#No one thinks about Shallot.... sad sad day

[mewmewdoppio]

I think I am the first person to even consider this ship

[bobalegsanji]

Umakemenotwannadie

Chapter 1 ☆ Chapter 2 ☆ Chapter 3 ☆ Chapter 4 ☆ Chapter 5 ☆ Chapter 6

Sanji just needs a little love in a world that couldn’t care less

Modern magic AU. Zosan. Chapters: 6/?.

Trigger Warnings: depression, substance abuse, implied drug addiction, past childhood abuse, panic/anxiety attacks

One Piece Masterlist

In the upcoming weeks, Sanji begins to find his own routine, both around the house and in his school life.  The commute to his university isn’t even very long, but he manages to miss 3 classes by taking the wrong metro before he really figures it out. 

Sanji becomes the main head of food in the household. He helps Nami with the finances, so he knows exactly how much they have for food. With her help he starts making the grocery lists, often making Franky and Chopper get the actual ingredients. He has his own notebook, safely put in the cutlery drawer, with everyone’s favourite foods, allergies and dislikes. The only pages that are still blank are Luffy and Zoro’s. 

Sanji makes sure there’s enough food for breakfast and lunch, so everyone can grab whatever they want, but he provides dinner almost every night. The only exceptions are when Chopper or Usopp beg him to order take out, which he doesn’t allow too often. Most weekends, he gives in and makes breakfast for the house anyway. He wakes up early and doesn’t even trust Chopper near the toaster, so it’s a no-brainer, really. 

Robin often accompanies him in the kitchen. She likes to read with a cup of coffee, sometimes commenting on interesting findings from her studies. Sanji enjoys the company, cooking can get lonely sometimes. Robin knows exactly when she can talk to him and when she should stay quiet because he’s too focused. 

It’s been 3 weeks since he moved in, and he hasn’t really had any trouble with the magic-users in the house yet. He was a bit wary of Usopp at the start, but that’s mostly been resolved. Nami and Usopp don’t mention magic, at least not around him, so he doesn’t have anything to complain about. He takes extra care in the morning to take his suppressants, not that he ever forgets to take them in. It’s unconsciously built into his brain, similar to breathing and hearing. Every morning, he obsessively checks whether his stock is still enough: like it could suddenly vanish overnight. He still isn’t comfortable letting anyone touch him, but luckily no one seems to mind.

Because he’s become so comfortable, he almost forgot that Usopp is a herbalist. 

Almost. Until, one moment late in the day. Sanji is completely focused on his French tarragon chicken, not completely familiar with the recipe yet. Robin is lounging in a chair near the open doors, basking in the sunlight with another book. She hasn’t bothered Sanji much, because of which he is glad, he needs all the focus he can muster to get the proportions of onions to shallots right. When Usopp comes storming in with a small, potted plant with thick, healthy leaves, he barely notices.

‘’Sanji, can I leave Peony on the counter?’’

Sanji looks up from where he was dicing the onions. ‘’I guess, why?’’

‘’She’s getting lonely in my room. I think she’d like to watch you cook.’’

He stops cutting to send a death-stare at the plant, almost like it could burst into flames at any moment. 

‘’Chopper is not going to like you taking out Peony,’’ Robin comments.

‘’I don’t care about Chopper! Look how sad she is!’’

‘’I don’t see anything off with the plant, dear Usopp.’’

‘’She feels sad. She’s lonely. I think the other plants are bullying her.’’

‘’I’m uncertain whether they have the capabilities to do that.’’

Usopp’s ears begin to turn red. ‘’They can, I told you they’re intelligent!’’ 

‘’I have no doubt about that, but I’m not sure if she’ll understand the concept of dicing cabbage.’’

‘’That is not going anywhere near my kitchen, Usopp. I’m sorry,’’ Sanji states. No way in hell is he going to let that plant-thing stare at him all evening. 

‘’Firstly, Peony knows she’s not a cabbage, so she’s not going to get scared by Sanji cutting up some vegetables near her. Secondly, it’s a she.’’ Usopp pauses, his long rant forcing him to take a breath before finishing. ‘’Thirdly, please Sanji. Chopper will be fine if you allow it.’’

‘’I’m not cooking dinner with that thing anywhere near me,’’ Sanji goes back to focusing on dinner. If he ignores the problem, it might go away.

‘’You’re not even magical Sanji, you can’t even sense her, please.’’

He opts to ignore Usopp, who’s starting to become desperate. The problem is that he knows what Usopp is talking about. He remembers pushing his mother’s wheelchair through the garden on sunny days. Remembers the vibrant auras of everything around him. The splashes of blue on some plants he could see. He was never able to really connect with them: never able to hear them, or really understand their feelings, but he knew enough to sense the dreadful sadness coming from them. He asked his mother once why they looked like that. 

‘’That’s just life, Sanji,’’ she had said with a small smile. ‘’You can’t expect everyone and everything to be happy all the time, can you?’’

It was the first time he had felt his mother’s aura shift to a more navy colour. He had never asked her again. 

‘’You have no problem with my magical herbs in your kitchen, so what would Peony change?’’ 

‘’Usopp!’’ Robin looks angry, ‘’Don’t push him.’’

 Sanji stares wide-eyed at Usopp, ‘’your WHAT?’’

Usopp cringes at his loud voice. ‘’It’s not a big deal, really.’’

He stands up to rummage through the one cabinet he filled with the housemates’ items he doesn’t use. They barely had any unnecessary possessions in the kitchen, mainly a dozen or so glass bottles filled with various herbs and some random paper plates and cutlery. He had expected the greens were Usopp’s, but hadn’t realised they could contain magic. They didn’t hold a label, and he didn’t want to just use anyone’s ingredients without asking. He had planned on asking Usopp what they were exactly and if he could use them for cooking, but he had barely entered this cabinet, so he had forgotten they were there to begin with. 

He picks up two glass bottles to take a better look. They don’t look any different from normal spices, they don’t feel different. He wouldn’t have known if Usopp hadn’t told him. 

His hands tremble as he puts the two glass bottles down on the counter. 

‘’I promise, they’re not dangerous. The left bottle is serenitea. If you brew tea from it, it helps settle your nerves. The other one is serenade. It tastes kind of like how you would imagine a sunset tastes? Like happiness and warmth.’’

Sanji can’t respond, too focused on staring at the bottles like they’re going to talk back to him. 

‘’Sanji?’’ Robin asks softly. ‘’They’re not going to hurt you.’’

‘’I know,’’ Sanji snaps. He immediately regrets it. Is he really so far gone that he’s currently raising his voice at a beautiful lady?

‘’I think... I’m just going to take Peony and go…’’ Usopp says awkwardly. ‘’Robin, can I…?’’

She doesn’t take her eyes off Sanji, who’s still staring at the unmoving herbs.

‘’You can put Peony in my room for the time being,’’ she says. 

He nods and quickly leaves. The fall of the kitchen door brings Sanji out of his trance. 

He immediately walks over to Robin, ‘’I’m so sorry for snapping, my love. I didn’t mean to get mad at you. I should never, my love.’’ He’s so mad at himself right now.

‘’Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll make you a cup of tea?’’ She offers.

He immediately shakes his head, ‘’I have to finish dinner, Franky is almost done with class and I want it to be ready when he gets home.’’ 

‘’Sanji, sit down.’’

He nods and takes a seat at the table. Robin’s wish is his command, especially after the fool he just made of himself.

‘’Again, my dear, I’m so sorry for-’’

‘’Stop apologising.’’

He nods and keeps quiet. 

She picks up the jars and before Sanji can help himself, he speaks again, ‘’I don’t really want… Want that one.’’

Robin chuckles, ‘’I know, cook. I’m just putting them back. Is regular black tea fine?’’

That settles his nerves. The little nickname is endearing, he can feel a slight blush on his cheeks. ‘’That’s my favourite.’’

‘’I know,’’ she smiles sweetly as she gets to work.  

 A couple of minutes later, she puts down two steaming mugs of regular black tea.

‘’Thank you, my love.’’ Sanji takes a sip before continuing, ‘’This is brewed to absolute perfection.’’

Robin laughs, ‘’You know, you don’t have to compliment everything I do, right?’’

‘’But everything you do is perfect!’’

She plays with the little spoon in her teacup, but doesn’t answer. The air immediately turns more serious.

‘’I think we need to have a little talk about everything,’’ she says.

He doesn’t want to. Sanji is not stupid, he knows he’s messing up whatever dynamic the house had before he came. He doesn’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable or change who they are, but the way he reacts sometimes is out of his own power, it’s rooted deeply in his core. 

It would be so easy for Robin to tell him this isn’t going to work. He hasn’t even lived here all that long, three weeks is nothing compared to the years of friendship they all already had behind them. But he doesn’t want to leave; no matter how uncomfortable the Usopp-situation has been, he has never been as happy as in the past few weeks living with them. 

‘’I’m sorry, it just took me a bit by surprise.’’

Robin nods thoughtfully. ‘’I could see that.’’

He cringes at her words. ‘’I don’t… I don’t want to leave,’’ he confesses.

Robin looks surprised, ‘’No one said anything about you leaving.’’

‘’I know, it’s just… I don’t want to-’’ Tears prick in his eyes. It’s pathetic, why does he feel so many emotions? He’s only known her for such a short amount of time.

‘’You don’t have to explain yourself, I understand.’’

He looks up at her, meeting her eyes for the first time since the subject came up. ‘’I don’t want to be a burden. You didn’t even really need a new housemate to begin with.’’

Robin is quiet for a long time, simply staring into his eyes. Her gaze makes him uncomfortable, but he can’t break away for some reason.

‘’Do you know anything about magic?’’

Sanji hesitates to respond. He understands more than a normal human being, but definitely not enough to be called knowledgeable about the subject. He spent the last couple of years trying to suppress any knowledge he had, avoiding everything magic-related. His father never supported him indulging in the subject after finding out what useless ability he had inherited, but he’s not about to broadcast that right now.

‘’A bit,’’ he says sheepishly.

She hums and breaks her gaze. Sanji finally feels like he can breathe.

‘’Are you willing to learn?”’

He stutters a bit, not sure what to say, ‘’I- I’m not..’’

‘’You don’t have to learn everything, nor does it have to happen overnight. I just think you’ll be a lot more comfortable once you learn it’s not as dangerous as it seems.’’

Sanji stares at his teacup. ‘’Why don’t you… Why don’t you just ask me to move?’’

‘’Because you’re happy here. I know you’re a good fit.’’

‘’How are you so sure about that?’’

Robin smiles mischievously. ‘’Because Luffy says so. And I think so as well.’’

‘’What does that even mean?’’

She sips from her tea, averting her gaze from Sanji. ‘’I’m a clairvoyant.’’

Sanji can feel his jaw drop. 

‘’You’re… You’re magic as well?’’

She nods, ‘’I didn’t want to overwhelm you.’’

He lets that sink in for a moment. 

Okay, so, it’s not just Nami and Usopp. It’s Robin as well. Nami can control the fucking weather. Usopp talks to plants. And Robin can, can what exactly?

‘’What are you?’’

‘’Clairvoyant,’’ she repeats. ‘’Basically, I can perceive and see things beyond normal comprehension. I can’t control it very well, but I get visions of the future sometimes. They’re not always reliable or precise, though.’’

She gives him some time to think about it. 

‘’I didn’t- I didn’t know,’’ he stammers,

‘’I didn’t want to overwhelm you with it. I’ve gotten a vision of you before, that's how I recognised you in the coffee shop. I think you can be happy here, with us, but you have to work for it.’’

He nods. ‘’So…. So you think learning will help me?’’

‘’I think so.’’ She stands up to refill their cups. Sanji takes his with a thankful but uncertain smile.

‘’You can think about my offer, on helping you learn, I mean. It’s okay to say yes, and it’s okay to say no. But I’m uncertain whether you will find your place here if you refuse to change your views on our… our lifestyle.’’

He nods. She’s right, he has to accommodate if he wants to keep living here. He feels so at ease here, so comfortable, he’s not sure whether he’ll ever be happy if he doesn’t take her up on her offer.

‘’I don’t have to think about it.’’

She looks at him with hopeful eyes, ‘’So?’’

‘’I want to learn. But please don’t set the pace too high. I’m… I don’t have the best experience with magic.’’

She looks pleased with his answer. ‘’Don’t worry, we’ll go at your pace.’’

He’s relieved. At least Robin has his best interests in mind, so he doesn’t have to worry about that. There is just one more thing he wonders about.

‘’So are the others also...?’’

She nods before he can finish his sentence. ‘’Do you want to know?’’

It’d be best to get it over with now. ‘’Yes.’’

‘’Chopper is both an animal empath and a shapeshifter. He can communicate with almost all animals. He can change into animals as well, but that’s a work in progress,’’ she laughs as she says it. ‘’For now, he can do a deer. But that’s about it.’’

Sanji nods. Chopper can turn into animals. Okay okay okay okay

‘’Franky is a conjurer. He needs a link of some sort to do it, usually a sigil, that helps him call forth objects from other locations. It’s pretty cool to see. He’s not allowed to do it inside the house anymore, though.

Robin stays quiet to see his reaction. When he doesn’t say anything, she continues.

‘’Brook is an empathic healer. He can heal physical wounds, but also take away mental pain, even though that’s a lot harder and doesn’t always work.’’

Sanji doesn’t react, just lets the information sink in. 

‘’Are you okay?’’ Robin asks after a while.

‘’Yes, yes, of course I am.’’ Sanji circles the rim of his teacup with his finger, still lost in thought. 

‘’We didn’t want to keep it from you. We just thought it’d be best to let you settle in before you heard.’’

Sanji nods again, ‘’Thank you.’’

He makes a way to stand up. ‘“I think I have to continue dinner, if that’s okay. You can stay here if you want.’’

She doesn’t respond. Sanji takes that as his cue to resume dinner. 

It was a good decision to let Sanji settle in before letting him know. Otherwise, he would’ve most likely packed up his bags and rented another hotel room for who-knows-how-long. But he can’t. He’s felt so out of place all his life. The warmth this house and these people give him make it impossible to just up and leave. 

‘’Sanji?’’ She says after a while.

He hums, turning around to look at her. She’s staring out of the window, gaze unfocused. 

‘’You don’t have to tell us what happened.’’

She turns her head to look at him. Their eyes meet, and Sanji can feel the hair on his arms stand upright.

‘’About the magic. You don’t have to tell us anything.’’

He just stares, at a complete loss for words. He can’t break their gaze, he can’t do anything. He’s trapped in her eyes.

Only when she looks away does he blink.

‘’That’s all.’’

He doesn’t respond, just finishes up dinner as quickly as possible before Franky gets home. He doesn’t want to know what she knows.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

It takes two days before someone approaches him about the subject again. 

Sanji sits outside, a cigarette in hand, with a study book open before him that he hasn’t read a single sentence of yet. He’s been slipping up lately, skipping lectures and classes left and right. He never cared about his studies, he just knew he had to choose something, or he’d be sitting in his hotel room all day doing nothing. He had already joined quite late in the semester. He should be happy he even got admitted into his educational leadership studies, but he couldn’t care less. The classes on finance and instructional leadership just feel a bit too much like the dinner conversations back at home. 

‘’Cook, what’s for dinner tonight?’’ Nami comes outside in the most beautiful purple dress he’s ever seen.

He smiles at the nickname. Robin started it, but the others are starting to pick it up as well. He’s glad, it makes him feel important. Like he’s actually a member of the house now.

‘’Nami, my love, you look as perfect as ever,’’ he swoons.

‘’I know, I know. What’s for dinner?’’ She sits down in the empty seat next to him, the old chair creaking under her weight.

‘’I can make whatever my lady desires.’’

She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t tell him off. ‘’I don’t care. No actually, I do. Make that thing you made last week, with the fried eggs...’’

‘’Roasted duck with mikan sauce?’’

‘’Yes! That one! Please?’’

She didn’t need to do the puppy eyes, he would’ve made her anything she asked.

‘’Of course, my dear Nami. Anything for you!’’

She laughs as she picks up his mug, ‘’Is this coffee? And is it cold ?’’

‘’Hmm. I forgot I made it. I won’t let it go to waste, don’t worry.’’

She smiles mischievously as she holds the cup in two hands. ‘’I’m glad you won’t let it go to waste, can I ask you something?’’

Sanji stumps the last part of the cigarette in an old coffee cup. No one in the house smokes, so the cup has become his personal ashtray. ‘’I’ll answer anything for you.’’

‘’Do you know how to make onigiri? And meat?’’

‘’Of course. Onigiri is easy, and what kind of meat?’’

‘’Anything is fine. Luffy and Zoro are getting back on Saturday.’’

He pauses in the middle of lighting a new cigarette. That’s news. 

‘’They like that kind of food?’’

Nami hums. ‘’Zoro loves onigiri. And sake. Luffy eats everything, but he likes meat the most.’’ She’s quiet for a moment, aimlessly staring at the clear sky. ‘’I’m happy they’re back, they’ve been gone for five weeks or so now.’’

Sanji makes a mental note to add this new information to his notebook later. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before responding. ‘’Where have they been?’’

Nami’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘’’No clue. It’s Luffy and Zoro. Luffy’s always dragging him everywhere, it’s a pain in the ass most of the time.’’

‘’They don’t go to university?’’

‘’Oh no, Zoro does. He studies sports science or something, I don’t really know. He’s barely passing whatever he’s taking anyway. Luffy doesn’t go at all. He works at the coffee shop with Usopp. We’re close with the owner, so she lets Luffy go on his random rampages occasionally.’’ 

It’s interesting to hear about them. Sanji isn’t sure what to think of Zoro and Luffy. He still feels like the odd one out every now and again, but in general he’s comfortable. What if they don't like him? Will he just have to leave, even now that he’s ready to put in the work with Robin?

He’s lost in thought. He’s so far gone, he doesn’t even notice the now warm mug Nami pushes into his hands. Only when he absentmindedly takes a sip does he realise. 

‘’Huh?’’

‘’I heated it up for you.’’

He looks dubiously from the mug to the orange-haired beauty. ‘’You did what? When did you get up?’’

‘’I didn’t!’’ she smiles.

He doesn’t get it.

She puts up her hands.

…

He still doesn’t get it.

Her smile falters, ‘’Are you an idiot?’’

‘’Guess so?’’

‘’I can alter temperatures. Not just the weather, even though I’m best at that. I can heat up small things like a cup of coffee.’’

‘’Ah.’’

It’s quiet between them. Sanji’s mind is racing, he logically knows this doesn’t actually contain magic. It’s just been heated up, and that can’t be that bad, can it? He already sipped it, and he hasn’t died yet, so it shouldn’t matter. 

He feels anxiety clawing its way up his throat, but he refuses to give in now. He promised Robin he’d try to be more comfortable with it. 

‘’Thank you, that is sweet,’’ he manages to get out. He takes another careful sip, and he can’t lie, it doesn’t taste off. It’s just regular coffee.

Nami smiles as she repositions herself. ‘’Robin said she talked to you.’’

Sanji nods as he puts down the cup. He’ll finish it while it’s still hot, but he’ll take his time. Every sip takes a small mental discussion to convince himself. 

‘’She did.’’

‘’Well, this is your first lesson!’’ Nami’s face is all sunshine and rainbows, and Sanji can’t help but show a slight smile.

‘’Thank you, my dear Nami.’’

She gets up, before she can turn around she turns her attention to Sanji once more. ‘’Also, Peony now lives on top of the fridge.’’

She skips away like she didn’t just drop a fucking bombshell on him. What do you mean, Usopp’s carnivorous plant now lives in his favourite place?

He sighs deeply. What has he gotten himself into?

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

In the five days leading up to Saturday, he gets two more lessons.

He finds Chopper sitting outside on Wednesday morning, talking to a calico cat that’s lying on the grass. He’s pushing a small bowl of water towards it.

‘’For the last time, I’m not giving you milk. It’s bad for you.’’

‘“Excuse me,’’ Sanji says, confused. ‘’What are you doing exactly?’’

‘’Sanji! This is Neko!’’ Chopper smiles brightly, hand pointing towards the cat.

The cat lazily gets up and walks over to Sanji, head bunting his leg.

‘’Hi?’’ he says awkwardly. He goes down to pet its head. The cat immediately purrs.

‘’Zoro gave him milk once, and now he refuses to drink water. Do you know how bad dairy products are for cats?’’

The cat meows.

‘’You’re so spoiled, Neko.’’

Annoyed, Chopper puts the bowl of water on the grass. ‘’Don’t you dare give him milk, Sanji!’’ He says angrily as he storms off.

Sanji just stares at Neko. Lesson two, I guess , he thinks. 

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

The third lesson happens on Friday evening. 

Right before dinner is served, Robin walks in with a big, ancient-looking book. She drops it on the unmade kitchen table with a loud slam.

‘’What is that, my love?’’ Sanji asks curiously.

‘’It’s a history book about magic. Are you free this afternoon?’’

Sanji gulps. ‘’I am.’’

‘’Good,’’ she smiles. ‘’I thought it’d be best to teach you a bit more about the origins and basics.’’

He just nods, not even trying to go against her. If Robin made up her mind, it’s basically set in stone.

After dinner, they spend the evening hunched over the book. 

It contains lots of information Sanji didn’t know yet. He had never learned the basics of magic. His father didn’t care about bringing over magical knowledge, and especially not to him. He cared more about the power Sanji and his siblings held and the possibilities this gave him. 

He learns that magic actually is as old as time. No one knows exactly where it came from or what it is. Magic is just part of some people, it’s not tangible or visible, it just exists. Magical abilities are hereditary, but it’s unpredictable: sometimes it skips a generation, or the ability gets slightly altered into a new version. In general, there are certain branches that different people have an affinity for. 

“What about making someone magic?” He asks after a while, eyes tired from staring at the letters this long.

“What do you mean?” Robin says, not taking her eyes off the ancient pages. She’s completely in her element.

“Giving someone abilities. How does that work?”

“We just read the part about how magic is hereditary, are you sure you’re paying attention?” She finally looks up at him.

“Of course I am! But what about deciding on someone’s ability? Like… Like making someone a clairvoyant?’’ 

“Oh.” She returns her attention to the page on divination. “That’s not possible. Magic is way too uncontrollable for something like that.” 

Sanji stays silent.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

The next day, he wakes up tired. Robin made him stay up until 3 am to study, which is something he’s definitely not used to. He had planned on making breakfast, but the clock on his desk read 11:03, so it’s a bit too late for that. 

He spends the next hour cleaning up whatever needs to be cleaned in his bedroom. There’s barely any clutter, both men don’t own enough to make a mess, but Sanji decides to be a good person and clean Zoro’s part of the bedroom as well. Anything to be liked by his new roommate.

Only once both his and Zoro’s beds are made, Zoro’s clothes are in the laundry basket, and the floor has been vacuumed, does the room look tidy enough. Sanji makes sure to hide his magazines in a box under his bed. It’s not the best hiding spot, but if Zoro goes looking there, he doesn’t know what else he expected to find. Lastly, he reorganises his desk. His school books go in a big pile next to it. His desk is lined up with the small amount of trinkets he’s gathered over the years, he replaced them so they’re all lined up perfectly . He rechecks the amount of pills in his drawer as he takes his daily medication. His nerves settled a bit as he finished. 

Okay, he might be a bit neurotic, but it’s a nerve-wrecking day for him to meet Zoro ánd Luffy. Cut him some slack. 

The rest of the day went on as usual, minus the exciting talk of his housemates. Zoro and Luffy returning seem to put everyone but Sanji in high spirits, who’s just getting more nervous and agitated as the clock keeps ticking.

Nami and Brook accompany him in the kitchen as he starts dinner. It shouldn’t be long until the two men arrive, but Nami reassures him he can serve dinner at the same time as usual.

“Are you okay, Sanji?” Brook asks him.

“Of course,” he forcibly smiles. “Why?”

“You’re kind of... Restless,” Nami remarks.

“Are you nervous about meeting Luffy and Zoro?”

Sanji’s ears turn a soft shade of pink. No use in hiding it. “A bit.”

“Do you want me to ask Usopp to make you some calming tea?”

“No!” He immediately declines, he’s not ready to consume anything Usopp-related yet. “I’m great, thank you.”

At that moment, the front door opens.

Nami and Brook spring up, but before they can reach the kitchen door, a small boy with a straw hat runs in.

“NAAAAMIII!” He immediately jumps into her arms, making them fall in the process.

“Luffy, be-fucking-careful will you?” She screams.

Brook doesn’t notice her cursing, or at least pretends not to, as he hugs Luffy too, putting even more weight on her. 

A green-haired man walks in after Luffy, looking very amused at the scene in front of him.

“Nice to see you too, Nami.”

She pushes Luffy off of her to run in his arms. “Don’t ever leave that long again!”

He laughs as he hugs her back, “I couldn’t let Luffy go to Europe alone, could I?”

His eyes fall on Sanji. “You’re the new one?” 

Nami hums, “That’s Sanji. He makes the best food I’ve ever tasted.’’ She pulls back to turn to Sanji, ‘’This is Zoro.”

Before Zoro or Sanji can say anything else, Luffy suddenly stands right in front of him.

“Hi! I’m Luffy!” 

He goes in for a hug, but Sanji quickly dodges, making Luffy fall flat against the fridge. 

“I told you he doesn’t like physical contact,” Nami scolds him. “Why don’t you ever fucking listen to me?”

Luffy turns around, hand rubbing his nose. “I didn’t know he’d do that.”

Sanji just stands awkwardly leaning against the table. “I’m- I’m Sanji?” It sounds more like a question than an introduction.

“Is that a question?” Zoro asks mockingly, putting his bag right in the centre of the kitchen table.

Sanji scoffs. Something about the green-haired man pisses him off. It may be the nerves that haven’t completely stilled yet.  “No, it’s not. And we’re going to eat dinner in five minutes, so please take that off.”

Zoro turns his attention to Brook. “Is he always like that?”

Brook just nods, “Pretty much.”

“Can we eat any sooner?” Luffy comes in between the two.

Sanji takes a moment to really take Zoro and Luffy in. They did not prepare him for this.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

Ignoring the rocky introduction, the remainder of the evening went quite well. 

Zoro and Luffy love the dinner Sanji prepared. It takes both Nami and Usopp to make sure Luffy doesn’t try to hug Sanji again as a thank-you. He had prepared drinks as well, expecting the friends to stay up late. He made various cocktails for everyone but Zoro. For Zoro, he got his favourite brand of sake. 

Sanji learns more about everyone. It’s not the first time he’s seen Usopp or Brook tipsy, but it’s definitely the first time they’re this talkative. Whether it’s because they’re happy about their friend group being whole again or becoming more comfortable around Sanji, he’s not sure. 

All-in-all, it was a successful day. 

Sanji decides to go to bed first, wanting to give the friend group some time to catch up among themselves without him intruding. Not that they make him feel left out, the contrary: no one treats him any differently. Even Luffy acts like they’ve known each other for 3 years instead of 3 hours. The only exception is Zoro. He barely looks at Sanji and doesn’t try to string up a conversation, but Sanji doesn’t blame him. There are more important matters for him to focus on right now, like making sure Usopp doesn’t throw up all over the couch.

Sanji goes to bed content. He’s been stressing so much about today, now that it’s finally over, he realises all the nerves weren’t necessary. 

Robin was right. Maybe he can be happy here. 

Chapter 1 ☆ Chapter 2 ☆ Chapter 3 ☆ Chapter 4 ☆ Chapter 5 ☆ Chapter 6

[fuckkbrunch]

Okay I've been putting off writing this post for a week. I totally wasted spent my whole last weekend doing this fucking thanksgiving dinner. I literally didn't sit down for 9 hours on the turkey roasting day. Get ready for a long one...

I thought this would be good to bang out a few recipes in one weekend. My job gives out free turkeys to employees every Christmas, and this year we got two since my partner works with me now. We have a very small deep freeze, so I thought this would also help make some space since we didn't cook either of our turkeys during the actual holidays.

The cookbook has a pretty detailed thanksgiving section, where Tony explains how to set up a thanksgiving dinner over 4 days. First step, make a stock. This took me 8 hours.

Luckily I didn't need to buy any bones. I've had these necks and wings and bits hanging out in my freezer for a while. Scraps from past turkeys, roasted and raw ducks, and maybe a chicken. I added in the neck and wing tips from the new turkey as well.

Roasted those off for about 45 minutes, moving them around as needed. Prepped some mirepoix while that cooked, added it to my brand-spanking new cheapo stock pot, chucked in some thyme, and we're off to the races.

I underestimated how long this sucker would take to bring to a "high simmer". Took about an hour to get there, then had to stay at a medium simmer for 5 hours. At some point I realized it wasn't evaporating fast enough and cranked it for the final two hours.

My resulting stock. A little more than I needed, which turned out perfect. Rapid cooled it in the sink and finished this around 10:30pm. He says that if you've done it right, it should be a deep golden brown, and very gelatinous the next day, which it was. Hooray!

I had planned to get my stuffing together and baked off on this day as well, but didn't manage to. But I got the veg prep for the stuffing chopped up at least. His stuffing is the most expensive stuffing I've ever made. It's the wild mushrooms that got me. Thankfully my grocery store still had roasted chestnuts available in March, but I definitely couldn't find fresh wild mushrooms. So dried would have to do.

The recipe calls for a pound of the wild mushrooms, but this box of dried ones only comes to 70g when rehydrated and it ran me $9.

This sad pile cost me nine fucking dollars. Porcini, chanterelle, shiitake, portabello and oyster. A pretty good assortment at least. I rehydrated them using some of the extra stock I made. Definitely not paying $60 to get to a pound though, so I supplemented with some fresh baby king oyster mushrooms, and topped it off with regular cremini mushrooms.

Now I know the chestnuts might come off as cheating, since they're pre roasted, but I did roast them again myself, as the bag suggested.

The stuffing took me two hours to get together (thank fuck I did the chopping yesterday), then I got my monster 16lb bird ready for roasting. His prep for that is pretty simple. Just a rub down with butter, salt and pepper it and you're good to go. His method doesn't involve stuffing the bird, but I have emotional needs regarding bird stuffing, so I made extra in order to do so.

His stuffing has the giblets boiled and processed to add in at the end, but I couldn't find the giblets in my bird until I was ripping it apart to portion it (who puts the giblets under the skin in the chest/sternum cavity?? Put that shit inside the bird with the neck for fucks sake...) so instead I added in some of the turkey neck meat I had leftover from the stock scraps. I'll try again with the giblets next time.

Surprisingly, the gravy was pretty annoying. All that stock I made was specifically for the gravy, as well as some red wine and shallot reduction. I made the roux using pan drippings from the stock bones from the previous day, but as I was browning the roux I was thinking, damn this is a lot of roux. I've made a lot of gravy in my life and I've never used this much roux. So when I got to the point of adding the hot stock to the roux, it got SO THICK.

He says to continue cooking the gravy until it's "thick enough to coat a spoon", but this was already way thicker than that. I had to dump in all my extra stock, plus some fish sauce and soy sauce (which are optional parts of the gravy recipe) to "water" it down.

That and I may have lightly burned my outside-the-bird stuffing. It was totally saveable though.

This is the proudest I've ever been of roasting a turkey. I sent this photo to my friends as if it was a new baby photo. Just look at it.

Isn't she a beaut?

Basted her every half hour for about 4 hours. Ironically, my overzealous stuffing didn't get hot enough to get out of the danger zone before the bird overcooked, so I scooped it out, mixed it with the lightly burnt other stuffing and baked it off while the bird rested. Oh and I also made mashed potatoes, obviously. I needed a green side, so I also whipped out...

Tony really showed his age with this one. The only time I've ever had creamed spinach was when I was 5 years old, at my grandparents house.

Thank fuck you can buy pre washed, pre trimmed spinach these days, because by this point I was so done with all of this. Nothing more depressing than watching 2 big bags of spinach steam down into a tiny sheet pan worth of wet green. At least it came together quickly. The taste was just okay, something about the texture squicks me out.

Taters, stuffing spinach and gravy. The second money shot of the day. Also a little bundle of asparagus I steamed off in the microwave since it was getting old...

Holy fuck, it's over. Best turkey I've ever done, but man. I don't know if it was worth it.

| Thanksgiving + Creamed Spinach |

Taste is a 4 out of 5. Definitely good, but the stuffing literally tasted like any stuffing I've ever had, expensive ingredients be damned.

Difficulty is a 6 out of 5. Don't try this one if you've never done a thanksgiving on your own. Or recruit help if your kitchen space allows it.

Time was about 16 hours over two days. I'm not kidding. At least while reducing the stock, you can sit down now and then.

I portioned all of this into 18 meals for the freezer so we can have a mini thanksgiving whenever we want.

I wish I could have found some cranberries so I could've knocked out his cran relish recipe as well, but it's late March and beggars can't be choosers. I'll get to that in the fall, when I roast that other fucking turkey sitting in my freezer...

[purple-babygirl]

What about Bucky dealing with a Little that's very picky about food and nervous about trying new foods so Bucky does things like eating the new food first and then asks if the little would want some, and maybe something to do with the fact that the little eats the same few foods nearly everyday? You can ignore this if you want!!

Word count: 2,613

Warnings: ddlg dynamics, it's all fluff.

A/N: Hi! I loved this so much and I loved writing it and I really hope you like reading it just as much💜 Thank you for sharing this idea with me; it was awesome💜 Also, it might take me some time to get to your guys' asks, but I will never ignore you. Please enjoy xx💜💜 I know I said I was trying to write them shorter but they keep getting longer idk I like to make food so🤷

~~

chef daddy adventures

Bucky was a democratic daddy. He had rules and they were agreed upon and followed, but there were still certain things his girl got to choose to her own liking. Bucky would schedule a play date and she would decide what to wear. Bucky would say it's bath time and she'd point to the bath bomb she wanted to drop in the tub. Bucky would cook and she'd pick what she wanted to eat.

The thing was, though, that she picked almost the same things every single time. She ate the same things every week. And not only that, but there were stuff she would refuse to eat or even taste. Her doctor assured Bucky it wasn't something physical: no sensitive palate and no allergies. She was just a picky eater; always nervous about trying anything new.

This left Bucky with limited options both when he was cooking or ordering food. He wanted to make his girl comfortable, but that didn't mean he wanted her to miss out on all the benefits other foods offered because mushrooms were tasteless, seafood tasted ocean-rancid or the texture of cooked zucchinis was weird.

“Hey, bubba, what do you think we try something different today?” Bucky proposed after she picked fried chicken again when asked about what she wanted for dinner.

“Different?” She tilted her head, dropping her colouring pencil, letting Bucky carry her outside of the playroom.

“Mhm, maybe we could try a new recipe for chicken? You know daddy only makes you tasty stuff, right?” Bucky said as he sat her up on the kitchen counter.

“I don' know, dada..” she trailed off unsurely, the thought alone making her nervous.

“You're doubting daddy's cooking skills?” Bucky gasped, closing his eyes and clutching his heart.

“No, no, dada, no!” She assured him quickly, wrapping her limbs around him like a baby koala, arms and legs hugging his torso.

“You like daddy’s cooking then?” He asked her playfully.

“Yes, daddy, I like it a lot.”

“So you're gonna help daddy with our newest recipe?” Bucky opened one eye, smiling mischievously at the girl wrapped around him.

“Yes, daddy.” She meekly nodded in his chest.

“And you're gonna give it a try? Eat it with daddy?” He opened the other eye, his big hand rubbing her back.

“Yes, daddy,” she repeated, looking up at him.

“Such a good girl.” Bucky kissed her forehead and she smiled at the praise.

~

A few minutes later, Bucky had the needed ingredients on the spacious counter beside his girl: chicken breasts, shallot onions, a couple garlic cloves, cream, some shredded mozzarella and parmesan and mushrooms. Now, she did object to the addition of mushrooms to the dish, but Bucky convinced her it won't affect it because it had no taste. She couldn't argue against her own words.

Bucky could see the slight sadness on her face because she actually liked everything he put in that pan except for the sliced button mushrooms. But he needed her to give the fungi a chance.

“Bubba, you wanna sprinkle the cheese?” That should cheer her up.

~

“Baby doll, you wanna try some?” Bucky asked before scooping her a portion, though he knew what she was about to say.

“Only cream, no mushrooms, please, dada.” Exactly that.

“But, bubba- just give it a try.”

She stayed silent, her fingers pinching the tablecloth.

“For me?” Bucky pleaded with her gently.

“Dada..” she didn't want to say no but she didn't want to eat the mushrooms still.

“Here, look, daddy will try them first and I'll tell you if they don't taste good, okay? Promise,” Bucky said, scooping some cream and mushrooms on his spoon.

“Okay, daddy,” she agreed quietly, his promise making her feel less nervous. She trusted her Daddy's judgment.

“Bub, you're missing out,” Bucky told her as soon as he chewed his food, licking his spoon in emphasis, “those mushrooms are delicious.”

“They have a taste?” She asked with wide eyes, making Bucky smile big.

“Yup, taste like the cheesy cream sauce we made. You want one?” He picked one slice of mushroom, rubbing it in the white sauce.

She nodded, opening her mouth.

“Good girl.” Bucky slid the fork in her mouth, watching her face as she chewed.

“How does it taste, bub?”

“Like cream,” she confirmed with a smile.

“Wait till you try it with chicken in the same bite, hold on.” Bucky excitedly started preparing the next bite on her fork, internally sighing in relief that he was able to get her to try something new.

~

When he tried to do that again with zucchini though, Bucky miserably failed. The second she saw the tall vegetables through the plastic shopping bags, she asked Bucky if they could order pizza for dinner that night, not even giving him a chance to cook them for her. The same thing happened when he attempted to sneak shrimps into their linguine. She wasn't near as compliant as she was when they cooked the mushrooms. Maybe it was because mushrooms didn’t have a strong, distinct taste or texture for her to remember and complain about. Whatever the reason, she made one thing clear: she did not want her teeth anywhere near that green vegetable or that shellfish.

Bucky almost gave up on zucchinis and shrimps until one day when they were watching Ratatouille, a lamp lit above his head. He saw his girl mesmerized by the dish Remy made Ego so much that she constantly kept talking about it: how colorful it was, how she wished she could taste it and how she wondered what was in it. Bucky being Bucky, he knew the recipe. And he knew it essentially contained zucchinis. So the next day when grocery shopping, Bucky made sure to get all the ingredients needed to make one, delicious, authentic ratatouille for his girl.

Only problem was, she was a smart little one. She knew zucchinis when she saw them and she saw Bucky thin-slicing a few. So she refused to eat when dinner was on the table, asking if she could have noodles instead. It would be the fifth time that she'd wanted noodles for dinner that week. Bucky made her noodles anyway so she wouldn't feel left out on the dinner table, but he still had to convince her.

“Mmmm, it tastes so good, baby doll. I bet it's better than the one Remy made,” Bucky said, exaggeratingly savoring the bite he took.

“Remy is the best chef ever, dada,” she mumbled, fingers playing with the tablecloth.

“Exactly, so what does that tell ya?” His question made her gaze on the full pan in subtle contemplation.

“That daddy is a better chef?” She bit down.

“That's right. You want a taste, bub?” Bucky asked her softly.

“Dada, I don't like zucchinis,” she said in subtle frustration, her feet almost kicking air under the table. She wanted a taste, she just didn't want a taste of zucchini.

“Too bad; tastes delicious,” Bucky shrugged apologetically, watching her as he took another fork between his lips.

“Does it really taste good?” She wondered curiously, eyeing the tomato sauce-smeared plate.

He successfully had her attention.

“Mhm.”

“So good?”

“Yeah, so so good,” Bucky promised, “you wanna try?” He offered her the next loaded fork with a hopeful smile.

She stared at Bucky, hesitation clear in her eyes despite her mouth-watering at the sight and smell of the dish, the sweetness of basil filling the air.

“But just a li'l bite?” She negotiated, still trying to get out of having to eat zucchini.

“Just a little bite; see if you like it?” Bucky dropped the food back on the plate, getting her a smaller portion on the fork instead.

She nodded, “yes, please, dada.”

“Good girl. One little bite coming up. Open up, bub.” Bucky smiled, positioning the fork before her mouth.

She faintly pouted at the thought of zucchinis but opened up and let herself taste the food. The more she chewed the more her eyes widened, making Bucky chuckle.

Bucky didn't put any zucchini on the first fork, not wanting her to feel betrayed. He wanted her to warm up to the meal bit by bit, so he only gave her eggplant and tomato.

“You like it, baby doll?”

“Yes, dada. 'S delicious.” She nodded, tongue licking the side of her lips.

“Told ya.” Bucky grinned wider, reloading the fork for her.

“No, dada, that's too much zucchini,” she whined when she saw the bite he was preparing on the fork.

“Tell you what, did you like the sauce?” Bucky asked and she nodded in confirmation.

“Yeah? Okay, we'll dip it in lots of sauce, cover it up real good and you won't even know zucchini is there.” He promised, rolling the zucchini on the fork around in the bottom of the casserole pan.

“But I saw it.” She continued to whine.

“Trust me, bub, just like we did with the mushrooms, yeah? Open up.”

She obeyed and let Bucky feed her the sauced veggies and he was right, all she tasted was the amazing sauce and the slight crunch of the onions hid the weird texture of the zucchinis.

“Dada, wan' more please,” she requested with a sheepish smile after swallowing, her feet now swinging under the table.

Bucky was just staring at her, proud of himself that he got her to enjoy a food she would've continued to claim to hate minutes ago. He was more than happy to be the Remy to her Ego.

“Of course, baby doll.” He smiled wide, scooping another serving on the plate for her, “tell me I'm a better chef than Remy first,” Bucky teased, keeping the fork at a distance from her mouth.

“Dada's better.” She blushed, opening her mouth, making Bucky chuckle at her cuteness.

She was finally eating zucchinis and she was relishing them. That was amazing progress; Bucky just had to find a good movie for every food she refused to eat…

~

It was two weeks after Bucky made them ratatouille that he tried to sneak in another recipe containing something she didn't like to eat. Bucky had done his movie research.

And so on movie night, Bucky put on The Princess and The Frog for them to watch and made sure his baby had her eyes on the screen when Tiana's father was stirring the pot of gumbo.

“Oh, look how tasty that gumbo's looking, bubba.”

“It's a movie, dada. Real shrimps taste like-” She shook her head as her smart mouth ran.

“The ocean, yeah, I know, bub.” Bucky sighed, kissing her temple. The hardheadedness he'd encouraged on her before was coming back to bite him in the butt.

But Bucky wasn't a daddy to give up. He set up his ingredients the next day and invited his baby doll to the kitchen to assist. She was always happy when they were doing stuff together, and Bucky wanted her to see how everything was made so she knew what she was presented when it was time to eat.

Bucky did the dangerous stuff: peeled and deveined the shrimps, cut up the sausages and vegetables, minced the garlic, and simmered the sauce while she did the safer stuff like handing him the salt and pepper, tasting the warm broth a couple of times before Bucky dropped in the shrimps, and occasionally giggling when he would peck her nose or cheek.

“You wanna put in the last magic ingredient, baby doll?” Bucky suggested, pointing to the Tabasco sauce bottle.

“Yes, dada.” She nodded, happy that she gets to play Tiana's part.

She let Bucky open the bottle for her and hand it over, his hand on hers to make sure she didn't spill too much into the pot.

She was pleased to be cooking with her daddy, but she wasn't exactly as pleased about the thought that she might have to eat shrimps or something that tasted of it for dinner.

When they were seated, she didn't let Bucky scoop any shrimps for her. She only agreed to try the veggies and the sausages and maybe get a couple of warm broth spoons. But Bucky wasn't going to have it be like this.

“Oh my god! Who made these amazing shrimps that taste nothing like the ocean and everything like Tiana's gumbo; they are yummy!” Bucky announced loudly, making her giggle as she chewed her beef sausage slice. She was thankful the shrimps didn't ruin the whole dish for her.

“Baby doll, you've got to try this. It's too delicious!”

She shook her head stubbornly, trying not to gag as she watched Bucky bite into another shrimp.

“Bub, I promise it doesn't taste like the ocean.”

“I don't know, dada..” she replied, nervously picking at the tablecloth again.

Bucky frowned, disheartened, as his shoulders drooped. She didn't like that look on daddy. She wanted to make him smile.

“One bite?” She asked in her small voice, eyes becoming curious again.

“One bite.” Bucky cut her a small piece of the shrimp and carefully neared the fork to her mouth.

She pulled away before it touched her lips “but.. if I don't like it daddy eats the rest? Please?”

“Okay, baby doll, whatever you want.” He smiled in agreement.

She sniffed at the fork, surprised to find that it smelled of herbs instead of the ocean. She locked eyes with an expectant Bucky as she closed her lips around the fork. She pulled back and started chewing slowly, Bucky anxiously anticipating her wanting to spit the food out.

She chewed for a minute before swallowing and smiling. She actually smiled at the taste, “'S good, dada.”

“Really? You like it?” Bucky asked cheerfully and she nodded.

“Yeah, daddy didn’ lie to me. It doesn’t taste like the ocean.” She beamed gratefully.

“You want more?” He offered with a grin and she nodded harder.

“Yes, please, dada.”

Bucky was so contented with himself he could write it in the papers. His girl was eating stuff he cooked that she'd refused to eat from the hands of certified chefs before. And she is liking them! No spitting, no throwing up, no disgusted, grimacing facial expressions made. He was really succeeding!

~

“Dada? Thank you,” she whispered shyly to Bucky as she sat on the kitchen counter, watching him do the dishes.

“For what, baby doll?”

“For cookin' me all the delicious food in the world.”

Bucky turned the water off and dried his hands before walking to her and engulfing her in his arms, her face finding its hiding place in the crook of his neck, “you're welcome, bubba,” Bucky sighed, kissing her hair, “thank you for trying it.”

She pecked his jaw in reply. She was so precious and adorable and she didn’t even know it.

“And I also like it when daddy tastes the food for me first,” she added, pressing her nose further into his neck.

“Yeah? Why's that?” Bucky smiled at the thought of her feeling safe eating aft-

“'Cause then if it tastes bad daddy could eat it alone and I don't have to eat it.” She mumbled, making Bucky fake another gasp.

“An' because I trust daddy too,” she peeked at him, biting back a smile.

“Oh no, too late, young lady, my heart has already been broken.” Bucky shook his head dramatically, playfully trying to pull away from the hug.

“No, no, dada, I love you,” she giggled and wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, not wanting him to stop holding her.

Bucky laughed, “I love you too, bub.” Bucky kissed her forehead, nose and cheek, “I'll taste every food first for you.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

[ronniethemoonandsun]

Love Unholyc Walkthrough (William)

Season 3 | Destiny.

13th Day

|

08:00

Liam´s bed

Chat room: William

|

You should call me honey!

How did you know?! +William

|

Liam, are you jealous?

Did anyone tell you to leave? +William

|

Because I´m embarrassed... !

Why did Liam go like that, then? +William

|

I want Liam to stop looking for a way to break the curse

Liam, did you even sleep? +William

|

I wonder what Liam´s ideal type is!

I wonder how many Unholycs Liam dated! +William

|

Do you think Eater´s alright? +Eater

How much does Liam think I love Liam? +William

|

...That´s a disaster. Hearing that makes me anticipate the night already. (any option is fine)

We only have 5 days left of days like this, right? (any option is fine)

|

10:21

Seal

Chat room: Shallote, William

|

Huh? Wedding? (any option is fine)

Shasha! Are you feeling better?! (any option is fine)

|

We´re done proposing, so don´t worry, Shasha!

We´ll be fine after 5 days too, so don´t worry Shasha! +William

|

Calm down, Shasha...! Liam is doing his best. +William

Isn´t there something that I can do?

|

Thank you everyone. (any option is fine)

Honestly, I don´t want Liam or anyone to overdo themselves because of me... (any option is fine)

|

Of course, don´t worry!

Liam´s by my side, so I´ll be fine! +William

|

12:39

Lovey-dovey

Visual Novel: William

|

So you should just not leave my side. +William

S-shall I give you something?!

|

But our Liam is the most bad-tempered of them all, right? +William

What the hell do butler do...?

|

Why was I a lady, and not a princess?

Liam was a king, but weren´t you betrothed or have a fiancée? +William

|

Liam, are all butlers normally this good at self management? +William

Liam, does Pierce wear perfume to copy you?

|

14:50

Loosened tie

Visual Novel: Jung Hi, William

|

Who... Are you?

Are you... With Hi? +Jung Hi

|

I´m sorry, for making the two of you meet so suddenly...

It´s not something you should thank me for. Please say it to Hi. + Jung Hi

|

I´m sorry. (any option is fine)

Thank you. (any optiion is fine)

|

16:36

I had one too

Chat room: Jung Hi, Leo, Sol

|

It´s Sol who worries about Hi in the end.

Hi really did his meet his birth mother, Leo, Sol. +Jung Hi

|

Don´t worry, Sol. Hi isn´t downcast, he´s just more mature. +Sol

He only met his birth mother last night, so he must still be shocked... +Jung Hi

|

It looks like Sol doesn´t want to regard Eater as his enemy. +Sol

Eater isn´t... My enemy, at least. +Eater

|

Looks like Hi is affectionate because he takes after his mom.

Maybe she faintly knew that Eaters isn´t actually our enemy... +Eater

|

Yeah, I want to give Hi a chance to say it. +Jung Hi

Hi would tell it better than I would.

|

18:27

What we each need to do

Chat room: Jung Hi, Sol, Leo

|

You look happy, Hi? +Jung Hi

Everyone was waiting for Hi!

|

It looked like Mrs Yeon really loved Hi. +Jung Hi

Thank you for trying for me, Hi.

|

Shouldn´t you listen to the contents and then accept...!

I´m so thankful to you three from a very long time ago to now... +William

|

Sol, the back world... Is okay to use something like that? +Sol

Leo, it could be more dangerous than you think...! +Leo

|

20:45

Ties to meet again

Visual Novel: Leo, Agni, Dorian Gray

|

21:19

People who were once friends

Visual Novel: Leo, Sol, Jung Hi, Third

|

22:33

William´s three people

Visual Novel: William

|

Are you sad that it´s related to me, but Liam couldn´t do it? +William

Are you worries I might become fond of those three people because of this event?

|

I´m sorry, I´m just worried for the three people so right now is a bit...

I´m sorry, I keep thinking about Yeon so now is a bit... +William

|

Did you feel glad?

Were you sad? +William

|

23:00

How to forget your worries

Visual Novel: William

|

Yeah, I can´t stop worrying about the three people. +William

No, I´ll stop since Liam seems more worried about me.

|

Hug me from behind. +William

Hug me as you look at my face.

[eevee-of-rivia]

Love is a Dagger

Summary:  It's Valentine's Day and Will decided to surprise Hannibal with a home coocked meal, ther is only one problem. Hannibal dumped him. Again.

Will is tired of being dumped by Hannibal and he plans on confronting his lover once he gets home.

Pairing: Hannibal x Will

Word count: 3,9k

General Warnings: angst but with comfort

A.N:Please reblogs and comment are very important so if you like the fic consider do one or both things! Thank you!

Everything was perfect. The candles were lit up, releasing a pleasant smell of roses in the air. 

The dark sky outside was putting the room in the darkness, letting the candles lit up a bit on the table where Will put them. 

Unfortunately for the brunette, he was able to only prepare only one dish, not counting the dessert that was resting in the fridge, but he was quite proud of his work.

It was the first time he tried one of Hannibal’s fancy recipes and, after two more attempts, he was able to cook almost perfectly the main course for their Valentine Dinner. 

“Onglet with red wine shallots,” the man told to himself, carefully placing the pieces of meats in two black plates. 

It didn’t take him long to finish disposing of the meat on the plate so Will decided to pour some red wine in two glasses and to place them on the table, in front of the candles. 

Will looked once more at the table, a proud smile on his face, before running to his bedroom to wear the nice suit he specifically bought for the occasion. 

It was his first Valentine's Day with Hannibal and the brunette wanted everything to be perfect. 

It was almost eight o’clock when Will heard his phone ring. Quickly he walked towards the table where he put the phone before and answered the call. 

“Hello?” Will asked, not sure about who could call him at this hour. 

“Will I’m sorry but I think I won’t be able to be at home for another hour” Hannibal said in a sad tone. 

Will remained silent for a few seconds before closing the call, not answering Hannibal and not even saying goodbye. 

Say that the brunette was fucking pissed with Hannibal was an understatement. But he also was heartbroken. 

He put so much effort into preparing the perfect Valentine’s day dinner. 

He even bought a nice suit and changed his after-shave to please Hannibal, but everything was pointless now. 

Turning off the phone and putting it on the table the brunette decided to at least enjoy the wine. Sitting on a chair he grabbed one of the glasses full of wine and emptied it in a few seconds. 

It was only after a few minutes that he heard his dogs whining, probably they wanted to get inside because it was starting to get cold outside.

Sighing a bit the brunette gets up from the chair before walking towards the glass door that leads to the garden, opening it to let the dogs get inside.

Once they were all inside Will decided to lit up the fire, getting for himself a bottle of whiskey with a glass, and to sit in front of the chimney to cuddle with Winston a bit.

He was the only one who stayed with Will, deciding not to wander all over the house or to go to eat something.

The brunette looked at the dog for a few seconds before offering him a little smile that was immediately followed by a little bark.

Then, Winston decided that it was a good idea to put his head on Will’s lap, looking at him in the eyes and silently pleading his master to be patted on the head.

He shook a bit his head before taking another sip of the whiskey and starting to scratch behind Winston’s ear. His mind started to think about every time that Hannibal dumped stayed late at work.

The first time that Hannibal dumped Will was two months ago.

Hannibal was able to convince Will to go to the opera with him, even if it took a lot of time and a lot of promises of something fun when they came back home.

The older man also let, not so involuntary, slip that that particular night one of his favorite opera's actresses will be playing.

Sighing the brunette told his lover that he was gonna go with him, but only if his lover kept the promise to a fun night after being at the theater. 

It was only when Will was getting ready at Hannibal’s house, putting his black suit on and trying to tie the black tie, that he heard his phone ring once, signaling him that someone just sent him a text. 

Confused about who could have texted him at that time of the day the man left the tie hanging around his neck and walked towards the bedside table to pick up his phone. 

Unlocking it Will saw that the one who texted him was Hannibal. 

“Weird,” he thought, not sure about why his lover texted him. 

He always preferred calling him, enjoying the sound of the brunette’s voice and finding the conversation more real.

But the brunette only shrugged before focusing on the text and reading it.

“I’m sorry Will but I’m not gonna be able to participate in our date at the opera tonight. I know it was my idea but I got stuck at work.

I’m sorry Will” it was everything that the text said, leaving the brunette a bit speechless.

At first, he wasn’t really sad about that, he hated opera anyway and he was overly fond of participating in that kind of event, but the thought of not being able to enjoy Hannibal’s company was making him a bit sad.

Sighing a bit the man replied to the text, telling Hannibal that he didn’t have to worry about that and that they will go to the opera another day.

He put the phone back on the bedside table before starting to undress, wanting to get into more comfortable clothes to just chill in the house with his dogs.

He opted for putting on a pair of sweatpants and a simple shirt, planning on going to bed soon, before getting down the stairs and sitting on the couch with his dogs.

Hannibal never liked when Will let his dogs get on the couch but what he didn’t see couldn’t hurt him.

It didn’t take the brunette long before falling asleep on the couch, Winston resting his head on the man’s lap like he always used to do, while his dogs snuggled at his feet and fall asleep too.

Will woke up only two hours after because of a nightmare.

His forehead was wet with sweat, his clothes were soaked too, and all of his dogs were looking at him intently, worried about their master and his well-being.

The brunette took a few seconds to take deep breaths, trying to calm himself down a bit, before getting up from the couch and walking towards the switch to turn the lights on.

Once he was able to see the room again the man noticed that it was almost midnight and that Hannibal wasn’t home yet.

Frowning a bit the man, who was a bit sad that Hannibal wasn’t home yet, decided to go to bed letting his dogs follow him so he hadn’t to sleep alone.

He was a bit sad about the fact that he wasn’t going to fall asleep beside his lover but he knew that Hannibal took his job very seriously. 

Looking once again at his phone Will noticed that he hadn’t received other texts from Hannibal, so he just decided to turn it off and go to sleep.

His dogs laying themselves on the ground and the bed beside Will, keeping him company while waiting for Hannibal to come back home.

That was the first time that Hannibal ditched Will.

He wasn’t sad at first, he knew that sometimes Hannibal’s work would keep his lover busy for many hours so at first, he didn’t really think about it. 

Will too, sometimes, found himself staying late at work because Jack wanted him to work on some cases. 

But it was from the second time that his lover dumped him that the brunette started to have some intrusive thoughts. 

It was the second week of January and Will was having a really hard day. 

Jack had forced him to go on a very gruesome crime scene, and that left the brunette very stressed and on edge for the rest of the day. 

He spent all the time he was at the FBI in his lecture class, avoiding everyone he could avoid and working on the next lesson he had to expose. 

The only thing that kept him from telling to everyone to fuck off and leave everything to go home to his dogs was the thought of the romantic dinner that Hannibal was preparing for that night. 

The older man invited Will for dinner the previous day, telling him that it was passed a while since the last time that they could have a romantic dinner, only the two of them. 

Will wasn’t really sure at first. He wanted to see Hannibal but he also knew that Jack wouldn’t let him leave work early. At least not without a lot of convincing. 

But his lover was able to lure him to accept his offer of dinner, telling him that he bought a bottle of that fine whiskey that Will loved so much. 

So, after only a few seconds of pondering Hannibal’s offer, the brunette sighed and decided to accept the invite for dinner.

The man smiled at the thought of that conversation. Hannibal has always been good at convincing Will to join him at one of his fancy dinners.

He was lost in his thoughts, not really paying attention to the papers in front of him when he heard his phone ring.

The brunette didn’t know who would be calling him at his hour, nobody ever bothered to call him besides Hannibal but he knew that the man was at work right now.

Immediately after he thought about Alana who agreed to take care of his dogs for the night, smirking at the brunette when he explained to her the reason why he was asking her this favor.

Not checking who was calling him Will answered the phone, his tone a bit tired because of all the work he was doing.

“Hey Alana, is any of the dogs giving you some problems?” Will asked, expecting the woman to be the one who called him.

But instead of the woman’s voice, he heard the voice of his lover.

“Hello Will, unfortunately for you I’m not Alana,” Hannibal said, his tone serious.

The brunette frowned a bit, confused about why the man was calling him, but he quickly shook his head and spoke again.

“yeah sorry, I didn’t check the phone before answering the call. I thought she had a problem with the dogs” He explained to him, receiving only a low hm from the older man.

Will was going to ask Hannibal if he needed something when the man interrupted him, starting to talk.

“I’m sorry Will but work is taking me a lot of time. I’m afraid I won’t be able to participate in our date tonight” Hannibal told him, his tone serious but a bit tired, leaving Will silent for a few seconds.

The brunette didn’t say anything for a few seconds, trying to calm himself down to not to let Hannibal hear the disappointment in his voice.

It was only when he was sure that he could speak normally that Will answered to him.

“Don’t worry Hannibal, I understand” the brunette told him, his grip now tightening a bit on the phone.

He was looking forward to this dinner with Hannibal, and the fact that his lover had dumped him a second time was leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

Hearing the discomfort in Will’s voice the older man decided to check on him, asking him if everything was alright.

The brunette quickly dismissed the discussion, telling Hannibal that he was fine and that he had a lot of work to do.

The older man wasn’t really convinced but he had to go back to work too, so he just hummed and said goodbye to his lover promising him that he’d make it up to him.

At first, Will believed Hannibal, trusting his lover to make it up to him on the first occasion.

He tried to stay positive, to justify Hannibal and the fact that he was remaining at work more and more every day, leaving him alone most nights.

Even when he dumped him the third time. 

Will was very excited about that evening. He had managed to convince Hannibal to take Will’s dogs with him for a walk in the woods.

Will knew that Hannibal wasn’t really fond of animals, but his dogs meant everything to the brunette so, with a good amount of puppy eyes, he made his lover agree to a short walk in the woods.

They planned the walk for the first week of February, Will proposed to plan it for a Sunday so that they won’t be bothered with work.

Hannibal agreed with him and decided with the brunette a comfortable hour for them and the dogs go in the woods.

It was finally that Sunday and Will couldn’t wait for Hannibal to be here with him.

For the brunette was a big deal the fact that his lover decided to spend some time with his dogs, even if it will only be a couple of hours.

He was finishing preparing his dogs’ lunch when he heard his phone ring in the other room.

The brunette tried to quickly finish his work with the dog food but his pack wasn’t going to let him go before having the food that they deserved.

Sighing Will decided to concentrate on his current task, telling himself that he would call back whoever tried to reach him a moment before.

Except if he was Jack. Will wasn’t going to put up with the man’s bullshits, not today.

After all of his dogs have been happily served the brunette left the kitchen to go into the living room to search for his phone. He wasn’t sure of where he left it but, after a few minutes of research, he found it laying on a table.

Unlocking it he saw that he had missed a call from Hannibal and a message from him.

The brunette looked at the screen for a few seconds, his heart already sinking because of the knowledge of what the text was gonna say. 

Sighing heavily the man gathered the courage to open the text, finding that his fears were becoming true.

Indeed Hannibal texted him that he wasn’t gonna be able to join Will and his dogs for the walk in the woods, but this time he didn’t bother himself to text him why.

The brunette felt tears start to form in his eyes, slowly wetting his cheeks after a few seconds, while his breath was becoming short.

It was only when he felt the wet nose of Winston pocking at his side that the man relaxed a bit, the presence of the dog calming him down, before noticing the other message that Hannibal sent him.

“I’m sorry Will, I know I’m putting you over a hard situation but I promise you that I won’t let you down for Valentine’s day. I have a special surprise for you” was what the text said.

Will stared at the words on the screen for a while, not really knowing if he should trust that promise that his lover made.

Sighing he patted Winston on the head a few times before texting back to Hannibal, telling him he was looking forward to Valentine’s day and to not dump him again.

He wasn’t sure if Hannibal was gonna keep his promise, but Will wanted to trust him until the end.

And yet, here he was.

Sitting in front of the fire, the glass that once was full of whiskey was now empty, with Winston who had fallen asleep after a while.

Will didn’t know what he was gonna say to Hannibal when he was back home, but he knew that he wasn’t gonna be pretty to see.

He was tired of Hannibal’s bullshit, tired of looking forward to a special event with his lover before being dumped by the man that said to love him.

He was tired of not feeling loved.

The brunette has been lost in his thoughts for at least an hour when he felt the main door being open.

Will didn’t move a muscle, preferring to stay in front of the fire.

He knew that if he tried to confront the older man he would have started to cry again, and Will never liked to cry in front of people.

The brunette heard his lover calling for him but stayed silent, his grip tightening on the glass making his knuckles turn white.

It was only after a few seconds that Hannibal found Will in the living room, sitting on the ground in front of the fire that now was slowly dying down.

“Will? What are you doing sitting on the ground?” Hannibal asked, his voice low and a bit worried. He knew it was late, really late, and that he promised Will that he wasn’t going to let him down but he hoped that the brunette would let him explain himself.

Will only glanced at him before moving his head to look at the dog who was still sleeping near him.

“You tell me, Hannibal, I thought you were gonna be punctual but I’m not that important to you” the brunette spat out, his tone evidently angry and his voice a bit darker than normal.

He wanted to scream at him, to tell him everything that he was thinking right now.

He wanted to tell him that he never expected him to hurt him in that way, he thought that Hannibal loved him but he proved him wrong.

Hannibal looked at him for a few seconds. He knew that he deeply wronged the brunette in front of him but it was for a good cause and he was gonna show him.

Kneeling beside him Hannibal took Will’s free hand and, to the older man's surprise, he let the older man touch him.

Will has never been fond of physical contact but the more he learned to know Hannibal the more he craved that physical contact.

“Would you let me explain Will why I wronged you so many times?” the man asked him, his tone soft, trying not too angry more the brunette.

The room was silent for a while, the only thing that they could hear was their breaths.

It didn’t take long for that silence to be interrupted by Will’s cry, and that sound made Hannibal’s heartbreak.

He never wanted to make his love cry, he never wanted to hurt him but he couldn’t yet tell him the truth.

The older man was going to speak again, wanting to reassure Will, when the brunette quickly rose to his feet and looked at Hannibal in the eyes. His cheeks were still wet because of the tears.

“You don’t need to explain anything, Hannibal” will spat out his name.

“Just tell me that you don’t fucking love me anymore instead of dumping me every time!” he continued, taking a few steps back while being careful to not hurt Winston, who now was sitting on the ground and looking at him.

That words hurt Hannibal’s heart, he never thought that he hurt this much his Will and the only thing he wanted to do now was make him happy again.

Hannibal slowly walked towards Will, taking the few steps that separated him from the brunette, and smiling when the man didn’t step back and let him cup his cheek.

“I know I wronged you, Will, many times, but trust me when I say that I love you more than anyone and anything.

Trust me when I say that the only thing that I want in this world is to spend the rest of my life with you” Hannibal told him, his thumb gently caressing Will’s cheek.

The brunette relaxed a bit because of Hannibal’s touch, the man always bringing him comfort and always knowing how to make him relax.

He closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy for a bit the softness of his lover’s touch before speaking.

“Then why you dumped me so many times? Even if you promised me that you won’t do that again. Tell me, Hannibal, why?” Will asked him, opening his eyes and looking at the man in the eyes.

The older man only nodded before walking towards the door, making Will raise an eye brown and look at him with a confused expression.

He was going to ask him what the hell he was going when the brunette saw the man open the door and, immediately after, he saw a little black ball of fur run towards him.

Will looked intently at the dog who was running towards him, never leaving the pup out of his sight, scared about the fact that if he even looked away for a few seconds the dog would disappear.

It was only when the può was in front of Will that he realized that he had a little box in his mouth. The brunette crouched down on one knee to look better at the box but the pup immediately runoff.

Will quickly turned his body and was immediately able to catch the dog, lifting him in his arms and taking the box out of his mouth.

But when he opened it he found out that it was empty.

A bit confused he turned again to look at Hannibal, wanting to ask him for an explanation but he never could have expected what he found in front of him.

Hannibal was in front of Will, kneeling on one knee while holding a little black box in his hands.

He was looking at Will in the eyes, a little smile on his face.

“I know I wronged you many times before, Will, but I do love you and I would like to spend the rest of my days with you.

It took me a while to train that little puppy that now rests comfortably in your arms, forcing me to stay at work late many times. More than I would have preferred.

But that’s not important, not now.” Hannibal said, his voice low but soft and sweet.

He took a short breath before speaking again, asking Will something that he wanted to ask him for a long time.

“Will you marry me, Will?”

It took a few seconds for Will to realize that what was happening in front of him was true, and not a joke that his mind was playing on him.

When he realized that everything that was happening was real he gently put down the pup, letting him beside Winston, before kneeling in front of Hannibal and launching himself in his arms before kissing him.

That made both of the men fall to the ground, but neither of them cared about that, too much lost in the kiss to even think about something else that wasn’t their lover.

It took them a few minutes to interrupt the kiss, and the action was made only because they had to regain their breath.

“So, do I take that as a yes?” Hannibal asked Will, a bit out of breath, making the brunette chuckle and nod his head.

New tears were wetting his cheeks, but now they weren’t any more tears caused by sadness.

They were joy tears.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Verboten - Chapter Nineteen.

A big thank you to all who continue to interact with this story. I appreciate you all so much and apologise that the update is a day late. I was beyond busy and then tired yesterday once I’d arrived home. Enjoy! :)

Previous chapters - One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve  Thirteen  Fourteen  Fifteen  Sixteen  Seventeen  Eighteen

Visuals - The Verboten cast of characters post

Words - 3,279

Warnings - Bit o’ smut!

Tag list - In the comments! To be added/removed, please DM me :)

Chapter playlist - Creed - Torn

The trouble about being in love with someone who, for appearances at least, belongs to someone else, is when said person in love has to witness them together with that other person, just as Zoey did on New Year’s Eve, hating having to watch Tyler and Ella standing arm in arm. It made her sick to her stomach, if she was honest. It must have shown too, Cait sweeping over to her and putting a drink in her hand before ushering her out of the lounge and into the kitchen.

“You’re scowling, so I needed to come and check you before it became more obvious to anyone who doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“Thanks, Cait. I didn’t even realise that I was. Shit, I need to get a poker face, pronto!”  

Cait nodded, heading to the cooker to oversee the chicken thighs she has roasting in a large pan, the waft of honey, thyme and pepper drifting under Zoey’s nose as she opened the oven door making her salivate. Her eldest sister was a fabulous cook. “You’ve managed it well so far, I have to say. I think it’s different now, now there’s something more involved. Anyway, I don’t want to have this conversation, I just wanted to let you know.”

Zoey knew if must have been tough for her, being stuck in the middle and likely very uncomfortable about knowing something she couldn’t tell one sister out of loyalty to the other. “Can I help you with anything?”  

“Yes, chop the radishes and shallots, then add them to the salad with a small pour of the sauce from the grey bowl in the fridge, please.” Her tone alluded to her feelings over it all, Zoey knowing she must have felt such conflict inside.  

“I’m sorry, Cait. I know you’re burdened by it.”  

Sighing, Cait began to nod, pausing her slicing of a large, seeded baguette, turning her head to kiss Zoey’s shoulder. “I am, but it is what it is. I appreciate you acknowledging it. Love you, button.”

“Love you too.” She couldn’t help but wonder if Cait would remain there for her in the fallout from her and Tyler revealing their affair, or whether Ella’s pain would be so great that it eclipsed her desire to remain neutral. Ella’s pain. It had begun weighing on her greatly, even more so after the woman herself came and leaned into her space with an open mouth, gesturing with a pointed finger, Zoey laughing and feeding her radishes.

“I want to see you eat an absolute tonne of this food tonight, little miss teeny tiny,” she spoke, crunching through her mouthful as she wrapped her arms around her, resting her chin on her shoulder. As soon as it was all out in the open, this ended, Zoey knew it would. There was no way Ella would want anything to do with her after she discovered she’d been having an affair with her husband. She could kiss goodbye to such sweet moments like this.

“I will, yeah. I’m feeling quite hungry, actually.”

“You look happier too, so this can only be a good thing. We’re all here for you, whenever you want to tell us about what happened that made you so thin and sad in the first place, but if you don’t want to then that’s fine too. Just know we all love you much.” Zoey could feel her eyes filling with tears, grabbing the shallots and beginning to slice, so she could quickly pass off her crying and sniffing as a reaction to those.  

“Love you much too.” She confirmed, Ella pointing at her eyes and grabbing some kitchen paper.

“Onion tears!” Dabbing her eyes while she chopped, Zoey felt the guilt kick her really hard.  

‘No, rotten sister tears.’

Still, the guilt got kicked into touch later that night, when after New Year had been counted down, she saw her sister in a full lip lock with her husband, a wave of cold running through her to witness the man she loved kissing someone else. Tyler knew it too, mouthing ‘I’m sorry’ at her as she hugged Fran, slinking from the room soon after with her drink and vape, needing some alone time. She wasn’t by herself out in the garden for long, though.

“I’m sorry.” Tyler spoke, his arms folding around her.  

“No, it’s okay. I know you had to.”

“Yeah, but just because I had to make like everything is normal with my wife, it didn’t mean I was blind to my girlfriend’s feelings. Happy New Year, my baby. I love you.” He kissed her head and tightened the hug he held her in, the embrace fleeting when the noise from indoors neared the back door, Cait and Pete stripping to their underwear before bombing straight into the pool, a couple of their friends plus Fran following them.

While they stood laughing at the scene, Tyler going back to Ella’s side when she emerged from the house, Zoey stood beaming. It was the first time he’d called her his girlfriend. Despite the complications, she guessed it was exactly what she was, though. It was New Year, it was time for him to end things with her sister. He’d even found a house he wanted to go and view, asking her to go with him.  

“Would you mind if I didn’t? I mean, I dunno. It just feels weird,” she stated, lying in bed with him one afternoon a week into the New Year, Ella out with the children and Fran. “I’m not sure how either, almost like I shouldn’t be looking at a house with you because you haven’t left Ella yet, and I know it doesn’t make sense, but it just feels odd. I’m sorry.”

She snorted with laughter, hiding her face against his chest. “I’m mental, aren’t I?”

“Nope, furthest thing from it. You’ve been more steadying than you even realise throughout all of this. Confession time, but with all of the stress of being rejected by Ella, having a new born to care for, then the feelings of guilt over having an affair with you, I did feel the urge to reach for the pill bottle again. The solace of the void I used to feel with an opiate high would have taken the edge of it all, but in the end, it was you who was my solace.  

“Having what we eventually turned into kept me sane, gave me focus, made me feel needed and loved when I knew that back at home, the person who had meant to had emotionally checked out. Even when she tried to repair it, I felt the difference between. This is why I need to let myself out, because she isn’t brave enough to end our marriage, so I have to. But I just thought you should know how instrumental you’ve been in helping me not fall back into old habits.”

It made her beam at him, to hear that. Although she hadn’t voiced it, she’d wondered if his addiction issues might rear their ugly head in response to the stress. Who knew? They could still in the time to come, as well, she was mindful to note as she lay there, stroking his beard and kissing him. “You know how important you are to me. Your struggles are mine now, too. I’m in this for every part of what makes you, you, Tyler.”  

In turn, for him to hear that sealed just how close they’d become. This had to be hurried now, him finding a house and extracting himself from the relationship that no longer brought him happiness.  

He didn’t have an actual date on him ending his marriage, but until that happened, he and Zoey found themselves frequently in loving little moments like that, and still very much in naughty, we-shouldn't-be-doing-this territory at times. Like ten days later, while she was at work.

“Miss Hudson, there’s a police officer here to see you,” her secretary Abi said after knocking her door one afternoon between clients, looking a little nervous on her behalf.  

“Send him in.” There was only one police officer who’d be visiting her at work. She continued typing, looking up from under her lashes when the door closed behind her surprise visitor. “Can I help you, officer?”  

Walking around the desk, he leaned down to kiss her, hands grasping her knees to push her legs apart, moving to kneel before her. “Yes. You can be quiet and let me go down on you.”

“I have my next client in fifteen minutes!” she exclaimed, biting her lower lip as he hitched up her skirt, pulling off her thong and stuffing it into his pocket.  

“I’ll be done in five.”

“And you’re stealing my undies!” she further protested, yet didn’t stop him from yanking her to the edge of her chair and kissing his way up her thigh.

“You’ll get ‘em back, eventually. I’m doing a long-arsed shift. Let me have a piece of you with me right here in my pocket. I’ve missed you so much. Now, shut up and let me eat you alive.”

A breathless sigh left her mouth upon his tongue meeting her folds, tickling gently at first, delving within keenly, rolling over her clit firmly and precisely as he kneaded her thighs. He’d been dying for her since New Year’s Eve, wanting nothing more than to drag her off somewhere private at Cait’s. It wasn’t the time, though.  

His break that day? Definitely the time to have a mouthful of her, her high heels digging into his shoulders as she writhed against his mouth, the slow, firm drag of his tongue making her bloom, pleasure skittering from one nerve ending to the next.  

“Oh my god, Tyler! Fuck, you’re so, so good!”

“And you’re so, so fuckin’ wet. Damnit, I might have to just fuck you instead.”

“We really don’t have time!” she hissed urgently, her lover emerging from between her legs, kissing her forcefully as he pulled her down out of the chair, undoing his trousers.  

“There’s always time for me to see how hot you look when you’re split around my cock.” Kissing her again, he pushed her onto her back, hands parting her thighs as he steered into her centre, the hot, wet clutch of her cunt around him eliciting a hungry groan, their mouths meeting in a heated kiss, tongues swirling, passion abounding entirely as they gave in to the heat of the moment.

She felt her bum becoming grated against the carpet beneath her, his mouth at her neck as he moaned wantonly for her, driving himself into her heat, his thick cock dragging at her walls deliciously as she bit her lip to keep herself from screaming. He could be quiet, but with him, she always struggled. His brand of sex was much too electrifying.  

Fucking her with rapacious urgency right there behind her desk, he was mindful of the fact he had mere minutes to make her cum, not that such was ever a problem for him. The repeated grinding of his pubic bone against her clit had her reeling, his hand clasping over her mouth to muffle the squeal as with a series of flutters around him, she came hard.  

He spilled into her moments later, replacing the hand over her mouth with his lips, kissing her before getting up, fastening his trousers and winking as she stood and straightened up, leaving her to collapse back into her chair, utterly breathless.  

“Oh, that man. He’ll be the death of me.” She panted, taking her compact from her desk draw, tidying her smudged lipgloss and running a brush through her hair, grooming her dishevelled appearance with just seconds remaining before her client knocked the door.  

He had the house viewing that evening, the one she decided still not to go to, but they met for a beer afterwards and to watch the football. It felt almost unnatural to him, to have to stop himself from acting affectionately with her in public, Tyler realising just how much he’d checked out of his marriage by that point.  

“It was a shithole,” he began, sipping his beer, Zoey sighing, sad for him. “They’d tarted it up for the photographs, but it was dire, damp everywhere. So, back to the drawing board.”  

“I’d like to say you’re in no rush, but I think we both have to admit that’s not the case any longer. I mean, I don’t want to rush you, but I know you and I know that this double life isn’t sitting well with you. I know how much you want out.”  

Nodding in confirmation, he winked at her, loving how in tune with him she was. “That’s totally is, babe. It’s not fair on anyone at this point, to be living my truth in secret and what’s now a lie to me publicly. I’m shitting myself over it, though. What if my kids hate me?”

“They’re not going to hate you,” she began, Tyler cutting in.

“No? I have to try and find some way to tell them I’m not gonna be living with them any longer, because the way I used to feel about their mum, I now feel about their auntie Zoey. They’re gonna be so fuckin’ confused.”

“Maybe don’t tell them about me right away? I know you want to be honest with them, it’s the way you’ve always parented, but to ease them into the transition of going from you being there every day to only seeing them a few times a week, it might be best to leave me out of the new equation they’re going to need to get used to?”  

He realised her suggestion was likely the best course of action there, reaching beneath the table to discreetly squeeze her hand. “You’re wonderful, you know that? You always seem to have a solution to an issue, a way to keep me calm. I know I’m doing the right thing, forging ahead in a future with you.”  

The search for a place to call home would continue, but not for that night. That night, they cheered on the Queensland Lions with the rest of the bar, on a high after their win, Tyler dropping Zoey home since he’d only had one small beer, working early the next day so wanting not to be foggy. He never worked with a hangover, professional as he was where his job was concerned,  

Enjoying some kisses with her before she got out, she had him in hysterics when during those kisses, she ended up burping into his mouth, hiding her face in his lap. “Well, while you’re down there.”

“Oh, shut up!” He really roared at that point, pulling her into a hug.

“I love you so damn much, Zo.”

“Good!” Turning away, she burped again, keeping him laughing as she leaned in and gave him another kiss. “Love you, too. See you Friday.”

He laughed about it all the way home, still smiling as he entered the house, finding Ella in the lounge. His smile soon faded when she got up, storming up to him, her hand connecting with his face hard before presenting Zoey’s thong, hanging off her index finger.

He’d forgotten to take it out of his pocket before throwing his work trousers into the wash.  

Fuck.

“How long?”

“Ella...”

“How long have you been fucking the little tramp who this belongs to, Tyler?”  

“Ella, can I just...can we sit down and talk?”

“No. Answer me. How fucking long?”

His heart began to hammer as he realised that this was it, because of his own stupidity, his wife had now found out in a way he never wanted her to. Or subliminally, was this exactly what he wanted? For her to find the underwear and force the ending he was dreading delivering?  

“I said how long, Tyler!”

“Four months, then I stopped seeing her. It started up again recently, though.”  

“Four months?” she looked shattered at that admission, throwing the thong at him and punching him in the chest a few times before she shrank back, sobbing into her hand. “While we were working on things, you were fucking someone else the entire time?”

“No. That’s when I stopped, because I wanted to make a go of things with you. I really did.”

Scoffing, she scowled at him through her tears. “You were withdrawn the entire time.”

“So were you. Come on, Ella. Is being with me really what you want? I think if you’re honest with yourself, it isn’t, is it? I know you were going through the motions, I even heard you confess as much to Cait in the kitchen at Christmas.”

That wasn’t strictly true, Zoey being the one to hear it, but it bared mentioning. Ella didn’t see it that way, though.  

“How dare you try and blame this on me!”

“I’m not. Believe me, I take full responsibility for this. It was wrong, to cheat on you because I felt pushed away, it wasn’t a cogent excuse, I do know this,” he began, Ella cutting in.  

“Yeah? If you feel so fucking bad then why did you start fucking her again, huh?”

It was here that he had to deliver the blow he knew would wound her deeply.

“Because I’m in love with her. I’m done with our marriage, but please believe me when I say I never, ever wanted you to find out like this.” Bang. Her fist met his eye with a heartbroken howl, turning and fleeing to the garden, leaving him to stand there wincing. Following her out, he found her standing on the lawn, her shoulders shaking as she cried.  

“Go and pack a bag, Tyler. I want you out of the house. But not before I know one thing. Who is she?”

Seeing her this hurt, the part of him that still loved, but wasn’t in love with her, it wanted to protect her heart from further damage. “It doesn’t matter, does it? I cheated on you, that’s bad enough.”

“Why? Do I know her? Have you been ploughing one of my fucking friends?”  

Turning away, he retreated to the house, Ella hot on his heels. “It is, isn’t it? It’s someone I know! You cheat on me and you have the fucking indecency to do it with someone in our lives? Who is it? Who the fuck have you been dicking behind my back?”

Rage began to twist her pretty features, her chest rising and falling quickly, Tyler feeling tingly and hot with the unpleasantness that crept over him.  

Suddenly, she broke, launching herself at him, slapping him and punching his chest, her nails scratching his face. He let her at first, knowing he deserved every ounce of her ire, every single one of her assaults upon him, until she showed no signs of stopping. “Who is she? Tell me who she is, now! Tell me!”

“Ella, calm down.” He defended her flailing arms at that point, but not before she ended up scratching him in the eye, the sting sharp.  

“Tell me! Fucking tell me!” she roared. He had no choice. She wouldn’t stop until he gave up the name, the one name he knew would break her completely. He had to, though, before her rage woke the children. He didn’t want his little ones to possibly come down and witness such ugliness.  

“Tell me, tell me who she is!”  

“Zoey! It’s Zoey.”

Never before had he seen the colour drain so quickly from someone’s face as he did in the aftermath of him telling his wife that he’d been cheating on her with her sister.  

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Something Held | Feeding Habits Update #8

Hi all!

Not me not realizing it’s been 3 months since I posted a Feeding Habits update hahahahahaha. Today let’s chat chapter nine, SOMETHING HELD. This also marks the last chapter in Harrison’s POV so prepare to say goodbye to this icon!  TW: body horror, mental illness, trauma

Just a reminder: This is my original work and plagiarism of any form will not be tolerated.

Scene outline, excerpts & a little reflection on making difficult decisions that my not particularly benefit the book but benefit you as the writer under the cut because this update is GIGANTIC.

General taglist (please ask to be added or removed):

@if-one-of-us-falls, @qatarcookie, @chloeswords, @alicewestwater, @laughtracksonata, @shylawrites, @ev–writes, @jaydewritesfiction, @jennawritesstories @eowynandfaramir, @august-iswriting​, @aetherwrites​

Scene Breakdown

Scene A:

It has been two weeks since Lonan found Harrison at his shared apartment with Suzanna and things are getting strange. Lonan and Suz are getting closer, Harrison is getting more distant and slowly losing it. One morning, Harrison wakes hearing Lonan and Suz’s laughter, and crawls to the kitchen to investigate. When he reaches them, Suz is evening out Lonan’s hacked haircut and they’re both sobbing.

Scene B:

Shortly after this bizarre encounter, Suzanna steps out of the apartment for a breather because her son is sort of terrifying her! So Lonan and Harrison double-team to clean up Lonan’s hair shavings. Harrison begins eating the hair while Lonan stares and they have a conversation about the state of their friendship.

Scene Ba:

This scene is gross and confusing! More hair is ingested. My god.

Scene Bb:

After the above ordeal, both boys rinse off because they’ve been rolling?? around?? in??? hair?? but also?? things don’t stop being a little gross

Scene C:

An air of calm finally settles over the apartment. Lonan brews earl grey tea for him and Harrison to share and Harrison asks if he abandoned Lonan in the final chapter of Moth Work. Lonan doesn’t really answer this question so Harrison continues on his confused, but finally lucid (one-sided) conversation, admitting he understands he burdens his mother, who still has not returned. They circle back to the question of abandonment and Lonan answers Harrison the way he wants to be answered (yes), and this is a moment of freeing, where he feels some sort of responsibility in this irresponsible new life he’s led in NYC. They sort of agree to be friends again.

Scene D:

The boys head into the city to find Suzanna, heading to a bakery near the Hudson River. Lonan drives in his used car, a strange experience since Harrison has not seen him drive in years. Taking the opportunity, he searches through the car and finds a map in the glove compartment. The map is erratically scribbled over and it takes him to moment to realize this is Lonan’s map and the first indication that Lonan, who he has assumed is this stable, perfect person, is not as unscathed as he seems.

The boys pass the waterfront and Lonan nearly crashes the car into an oncoming truck. Harrison regains control of the vehicle tucking them into a side street. Shaken, Lonan apologizes for the mess he’s created both physically from his nosebleed and between Harrison and his mother, which gets Harrison a little antsy because he doesn’t like the suggestion that he’s going to leave. Lonan clarifies, stating he won’t if that’s what Harrison wants.

Scene E:

Later, everyone is back at home and Harrison wakes up to a Lonan-less bed. He gets up to investigate the strange dripping coming from the bathroom and opens the door to find Lonan precariously teetering over a sink filled with water. Harrison, concerned, moves him away and tries to ask why Lonan is presumably going underwater, but doesn’t push. They both stand on opposite sides of the bathroom until the sun rises.

My process:

Honestly, writing this chapter was a huge up and down. The first half of it came much easier to me, but the rest was a literal hellfire to get through. I think I was incredibly fatigued with writing in Harrison’s POV as I’d been writing it since June (I finished this chapter in either December or January). This book has been a pain in the ass to write despite me liking what it is, and I really think it being the only place I’ve physically “gone” since the pandemic makes it even harder to write. I felt claustrophobic in Harrison’s POV since I’ve been writing it for half a year, and in a lil ~breakdown~ my beautiful sister reminded me of something she’d previously told me, “it's not about what works, it's about what you want”.

Let’s chat about this for a sec! I think I was watching a Harmony Nice video on her “hard-to-swallow” self-care, and she basically outline (I’m paraphrasing here) that it’s critical we care for ourselves in ways that might not necessarily be easy to do. Honestly, leaving Harrison’s POV is one of those hard-to-swallow self-care things I literally had to do because my mental health was not happy with me! Y’all know my boys are very close to me, and I’m not picking favourites but Lonan is 2500 times easier for me to write with at the moment. I think Harrison’s situation and how he deals with it is much too similar to mine but in a way that is difficult to place (Lonan and I are unfortunately similar but in a way that is easier for me to understand about myself!). From the beginning of writing his POV I’ve been in Struggleville, but kept pushing through hoping the next chapter would be “the one”. Not to burst my own bubble but there is no such thing in the state of mind I was in! I was pushing myself to find something that doesn’t exist because my brain was really not equipped to do what I needed it to do. I really, really did not want to quit on Harrison’s POV, but I had to, not because I don’t like him (he’s my baby) but because I needed a moment to myself. I felt way too seen in ways I don’t really know how to address in myself, so writing him was horribly frustrating at all times (my fault, not his).

My characters really do live in my head rent-free lol. They live in there! They take up space! They take up energy! They take up concentration, and resources I need for myself! Empathy is so integral to my process, that I give a little part of myself in everything I write. This is a blessing because I really get to dig my heels into the mind of another person, but a curse because I’m not a machine (and sometimes I forget that). It is a lot of emotional energy and labour to give everything you have to fictional people. I don’t think an artist needs to be tortured to create good art (this is not it!) but I never truly practiced this well? In my attempt to be empathetic, I was torturing myself a little bit, not going to lie!

So to combat this, I decided I needed a change. Hence, this chapter is imperfect and probably needs some stuff added to it, and while I’ve only written little of Lonan’s second POV, I’m feeling a lot better! It’s nice to get “outside” in a different place lmao this is so sad (pandemic writing things).

Excerpts:

I wrote the beginning of this in a livestream I hosted on my YouTube channel! There’s also a shoutout here to my dragon tree Lisa <3 miss u boo

Two weeks go by. Lonan sleeps on the couch. Harrison wakes up at dawn—no earlier, no later. Suzanna buys a plant: a Madagascar dragon tree she names Lisa. June grows into the collar. Lonan plays sudoku in the newspaper. Harrison learns to bake focaccia, gluten-free, whole wheat. Suzanna learns to palm read, tells Lonan he’s experienced great betrayal (they stop the reading immediately; Lonan goes back to the newspapers). Harrison begins burning incense at sunrise—frankincense. The dragon tree nearly dies (Lonan saves it). It rains every weekday that contains the letter T. Lonan shifts stacks of soggy newspapers onto the breakfast table, answers crosswords with the help of Suzanna (four across, nine letters, Something held). Harrison burns a baguette. Suzanna buys a hanging basket of pothos. The power goes out for two days and the icebox floods the kitchen tile (Lonan mops it with old newspapers, the ink running like jellyfish). June barks for the first time. Harrison eats a bundle of dried bay leaves. Suzanna waters the plants with rainwater, icewater, wrung into a coffee tin. Harrison leaves the stove on while sautéing shallots (he eats them whole). Lonan wakes up feverish and fills out four newspaper crosswords, then falls asleep on the coffee table. Suzanna moulds panna cotta in coffee mugs and shares the batch with Lonan when they won’t tip out. Lonan teaches her how to propagate the pothos and soon they have twenty empty cans of cuttings poking from the windowsills. They rearrange the furniture, the couch facing the kitchen instead of the TV, the dining table right outside the bathroom, then put it all back the next day. They birdwatch from the tiny window with binoculars and a magnifying glass. They sort coupons. Whittle soaps. Watch Norwegian films without the subtitles. Discuss cliff diving. Make matching anklets (blue beads, elastic string, the plastic clacking how Harrison knows they’re coming). All of this they do as Harrison lies on his bed for two weeks, counting the corners of his ceiling and trying to determine a way to multiply them telepathically.

This is the very next paragraph!

At first he assumes they’re laughing. The sun nearly rising between other high rises, blotting his room with dawn. This is not a surprise. They are probably making pancakes out of buckwheat and discussing the hilarity of whole grains. They are probably laughing at store-bought cherry preserves. Too sour. Their cheeks puckered. But then the laughs get louder, and the sun rises higher and it’s not laughing at all, but gasping.

Here’s Harrison crawling!! is this straight out of the exorcist probably!

Harrison’s instinct is to crawl. As if his smallness against the ground will stop anyone from hearing him, even before he unlocks his door. On hands and knees he shuffles from his bed to his doorframe, edges the door open with his shoulder. On hands and knees he hikes through the hallway, the gasping getting louder, shuffling until he sees them. Lonan sitting on one of the kitchen stools, a grocery bag wound around his throat. Suzanna clacking scissors in two hands so their blades ping in the sun. Her fingers loped around his hair, knuckle-deep, the blades snipping, the gasps growing, them both sobbing, the hair falling, the sun stalking, their bodies rocking. Harrison takes it in from his crawl. Experiences it all on his knees.

So this excerpt seems really you know, normal:

They clean up the hair. Harrison with the dustpan, Lonan with the broom. Harrison still kneels. Lonan still cries. The only thing that has changed since crawling into the kitchen is that Suzanna is taking a walk around the apartment complex. She needs air. Room. If she cries long enough, a cigarette. So Lonan sweeps. Harrison collects. This repeats.

The kitchen smells of nutmeg. Freshly grated from a whole club over espresso, Harrison imagines. He smells this as he tracks Lonan with the dustpan, hovering its open belly for clippings of hair. And Lonan is so compliant, brushes cuttings of himself onto the plastic surface so Harrison can trash it. As Harrison looks on from his knees, Lonan diffuses in sunlight, the window illuminating only his edges. A body so familiar Harrison knows exactly where it flares with light or absorbs it. A body with skin like mulberry silk. A body he could recreate in charcoal with his eyes closed. His archangel translucent and luminescing.

Skip this excerpt if you don’t want to read about Harrison eating hair!! i’m sorry!

Harrison picks a bundle of fallen hair from the dustpan. It’s airy from being recently shampooed, smells faintly of pear, maybe even ginger. This hair, touched by a woman, or a few women, and cut by one, or a few, in different contexts. Eliza’s hands deveining the roots, and then Suzanna’s, trying to fix them. So Harrison eats it. That bundle like a toothpicked cube of cheese. He puts it in his mouth and swallows.

Lonan watches like he’s unconcerned. He watches this feral animal—Harrison must be something feral, starved of something and ravaged by that hunger. Chewing mouthfuls of hair like that will quell of him of what is missing, if there even is anything missing, something unidentifiable in this bland circuit of New York City, this time-loop of sonhood, this fresh start a dousing of flatness. As Harrison eats, he understands he consumes that something like it’s holy communion, reuniting with that something by absorbing it. And still, that hunger moves him, from finishing the dustpan of hair, and closer to Lonan.

“Do you think I’m a bad friend?” Harrison asks, wringing the corner of his lips clean from loose hairs. From this perspective, Harrison on his knees collecting hair, Lonan’s eyes look bluer. Maybe their saturation has nothing to do with the angle, but Harrison feels this is true; his eyes are so crystalline, they are temptingly edible. Like two plump blueberries. Or a matching set of clear glass marbles. Harrison swallows. He repeats, “Do you think I’m a bad friend?”

Lonan swallows, adjusts his grip on the broom. “We’d have to be friends for me to answer that.”

“Aren’t we?”

And here’s the rest of this scene!

“You’re my mother’s friend,” Harrison says. “She trusts you.” He crawls closer to Lonan. “You’ve got secrets. Rituals. Tell me her favourite finger-food and who she wants to marry.”

“I don’t know your mother that well.”

Harrison wraps a handle around Lonan’s ankle. A muscle there jumps like a dolphin breaching the water. He’s memorized this plane of skin, could rebuild it from single grains of sand while blindfolded. He furls his hands across its surface, unfurls.

“You garden with her,” Harrison says. “You share a plate for dessert.”

“She’s kind to me.”

“You cook her breakfast.” Harrison tugs on Lonan’s ankle, knowing it won’t raze him, knowing he’ll come down anyway. “You know the exact temperature she drinks her coffee down to the last digit.”

“I’m trying to be hospitable.”

“You’re trying to be a son.”

Lonan kneels. Crouching so they’re huddled over each other, so it’s nearly impossible to distinguish one body from the other, which one sinks, which one rises.

“My mother’s only got one son to live with,” Harrison says, his voice thin from a clogged throat. He reaches for Lonan’s scalp, scrapes a line down the centre, now an even plane of cropped hair. “And it isn’t me.”

“You’re unstable,” Lonan says, burrowing his face either into a cabinet or Harrison’s shoulder—neither can tell. “You won’t let yourself have friends.”

Farther, toward the tile they go, a pile of hair scattering. “My mother wants me to forgive you by replacing me with you.”

“She’s grieving,” Lonan says.

Harrison loses his hands. He doesn’t know where they disappear to, if he touches skin or tile. “I haven’t died,” he says. Skin or tile. Skin or tile.

Here’s an excerpt from scene C ft. this memoir bit from the time I was shocked that this university I visited had real FANCY teabags:

Lonan brews tea. Earl grey, from a tin. Harrison doesn’t know why he expects it to come from a bag. An individual paper sachet, or if he’s lucky, one of those fancy ones woven from nylon. But it’s from a tin. Two teaspoons into the bottom of a single mug they pass back and forth, wordless at the kitchen table. Strung in the bathroom, Harrison’s t-shirt hang-dries, nearly figure-like, an unfilled phantom. He tugs a throw around his shoulders and stares at his hands. Each crest of cuticle. Each bulb of knuckle. Each maze of fingerprints.

He is material. This is fact. Not just outlines. He’s got skin that goes pinkish when pinched, a pulse that juts from his wrist, two eyes that burn at the scent of lavender, ten fingers. But as he holds his hands up, studying them in the faint moonlight, it is difficult to believe his tangibility. In the city, he has lived as a haze. Fogging over grocery stores, eateries, nondescript. Fresh start has always implied an air of zest, a zing that should have fueled him to plant roots in this restart. But Harrison is rotten, aphid infected, overwatered, underwatered, then not watered at all. He flexes his fingers. He pops the joints. He tries to press his pinkie to the back of his hand. But none of this brings him back to himself. His hands continue feeling like someone else’s. His body invisibly marred in some way he can’t reverse, disconnected in retaliation.

Harrison reflecting on his relationship with his mother:

Suzanna has never left him alone this long, and to her detriment. He imagines her now, living the life she always should’ve lived, the life she lived before he crosscut his way to her most important thing. She’s probably at a salon, having her hair twirled with a round brush, making dinner reservations at some place always too expensive for two (extra points if it has a French name, more if she has to wait a half hour before getting a table). When she talks to her stylist, she doesn’t mention a son, but plans to travel up the west coast, all the way into Canada if she’s feeling adventurous. She’ll buy crime novels she’ll never read at duty-free, reapply a lipstick that cost her a paycheck in the reflection of a hand-dryer. After the salon, she’ll meet a woman at a wine bar, converse about children, and still not mention a son. Suzanna’s singleness will be a celebration.

The boys finally trucing it out <3

When Harrison finally opens his eyes, Lonan is staring at him. His eyes two reels of the Pacific. They cycle in blue. So much of him has changed, and yet he is still the same. Beyond the haircut, Lonan isn’t that much different. He can’t be much different. But as Harrison searches, splaying his palm on the wet table, he knows this is untrue. Lonan is hollower than he was last summer. A little more haunted. They have this in common, then.

“Can we be friends?” Harrison asks. With his pinkie, he finds himself writing against the damp table just as he did Lonan’s scalp not too long ago. Lonan’s gaze follows each loop of each letter, Harrison’s steady left hand.

Lonan is consumed studying what Harrison has written, where each letter connects in near-cursive scrawl. After a moment, he nods, once, twice, and then reverts to staring at the table’s new inscription. On its surface are two words: something held.

The boys in the car like old times <3

Lonan drives. This is strange because Harrison has not seen Lonan drive a car in over a year. Usually, Harrison takes the wheel, but tonight he guides them through the city, in search of Suzanna. His car is clean. This isn’t unexpected. A cherry-coloured hatchback that rattles whenever he makes a left turn. It smells vaguely of cotton air-freshener and the undercurrent of cigarettes.

“You still smoke?” Harrison pokes at the plastic nob for the radio, and it crackles to life. Synth and electric guitar pulse in 4/4 time.

“I bought it used.”

They’ve agreed to get to know one another while they search for Suzanna. Another restart, some attempt at an honest hour. As Lonan changes lanes, Harrison pokes open the car’s glove compartment. A tin of nicotine gum falls on the mat. A hot pink feather pokes from underneath the driver’s manual. Harrison hauls out both, runs the feather along the gum tin, then the back of his hand, and then Lonan’s cheek. When that rouses nothing, he unlocks the tin and removes a slit of gum. Right as he’s about to pop it in his mouth, Lonan says, “I wouldn’t eat that.”

“Why?” Harrison asks. “Did you lace it?”

“Like I said, I bought the car used.”

Harrison puts the gum back, and then the feather. He sticks his hand farther into the glove compartment, feels around until he drags out a map of the state, bilgy and half torn. He unfolds it, careful to avoid the rips, and flattens it against the dashboard. Almost immediately, it wilts against the cold, faded from time in the sun. It’s been marked up. Half with pencil, half with a red ballpoint pen. After a few minutes, Harrison understands the previous owner’s route. Or at least he does at first. Following the red pen arrows, they started at Long Island, then reached Manhattan. Then a much longer arrow takes him from Manhattan to Geneva, and then Buffalo. And then the red pen circles, once, twice, three times, four times, and what is in the centre doesn’t even have a city name. What it does say is HELP, in all-caps, each letter then melting into an illegible scrawl. Harrison sees bits of words: Luke, woe, hands, clay, guard, stray, each wobbly and disappearing into the other, becoming cities of their own, destroying others. He tries to understand the route, but the farther he pours over the map, recircling each line with his finger, the more lost he gets in the ink.

“Is this your map?” Harrison asks. There is no proof that it is. Even the handwriting is all wrong. Ragged. Confused. Desperate. Not like Lonan’s careful, hesitant print.

“Like I said, I bought the car used.”

“But is it your map?” Harrison asks again. Gently, he creases the paper and then slots it back into the glove compartment. Outside, they pass three convenience stores in a row, a flock of couples emerging from a bowling alley, tipsy and cradling leftover deep dish pizzas and mozzarella sticks. They pass two more convenience stores before Lonan finally answers.

“I was confused,” he says.

“This is more than confused,” Harrison says. “It’s disturbed.”

“I’m not disturbed.”

“But something is wrong with you.”

Lonan slows at a crosswalk. A group of teenaged girls whisk by in glitter and lip gloss.

“Yes,” he says.

This is Harrison trying to stop Lonan’s nosebleed after their bizarre swerve which I think is kind of <3 tendy <3

Harrison reaches for him. One hand on the back of his neck, and the other reared toward the red stream. His touch is tactful, so faint his fingerprints wouldn’t even be left behind, but still, the dabbing with his jacket’s hem is enough to redirect the blood’s flow from Lonan’s upper lip to the cuff of leather. The radio is still on, garbled like an unmassing of crepe paper lanterns.

This is the final excerpt for this update that takes us to the very end of the chapter! Harrison has just found Lonan supposedly head-first in the sink and though he asks at first why he is doing that, takes an alternate approach as the chapter closes:

Harrison gets up, his knees popping like gnawed bubble gum. He decides he will handle Lonan at a distance, if he chooses to handle him at all. Like a timid pet owner trying to tame their suddenly-rabid yorkie. Like a friend not trying to tip the full glass. To let its contents film at its surface, but never spill.

Somewhere in the apartment, Suzanna probably listens to them. If Harrison didn’t know her better, he’d imagine her pressed neatly against the door, waiting to hear the shuffle of their bodies or the tang of an argument. Instead, he imagines her at the kitchen table, gripping a glass of water for so long, half of it evaporates.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Harrison says, stepping back until his spine hits the counter’s lip. He curls his fingers under the granite. Looks toward the window, now a faint periwinkle. Lonan heaves. His fingers caging his face, an animal restrained. They stand there until the sun rises.

So that’s it for this gigantic update! I have like four short stories to update you on so I hope to be back soon!

—Rachel

[harvestheart]

THE MIRACLE OF THE T-BONES AND THE UN-NAMED STRANGER

Life sure is interesting. And, at times, it is downright odd. But not always a bad odd. At times the kindness of strangers is totally unexpected and downright remarkable.

I had to run up to Fry's because I needed a bag of pet food. As is my custom, I travel through the produce section first in search for what I can spot on special that will work into a fine meal. I snagged a bag of russet potatoes in the red mesh bags for a buck, a package of mushrooms for $1.49, a bag of Asian stir-fry mix for $1.99. They all had those yellow stickers on them showing they are reduced. So long as you cook that day or the next, you can save money while eating very well.

My next move was to run over to the meat section to pick up the chicken. I thought that should make a quick dinner for when I was done weed-eating in the backyard for the day. (I have to tackle these manual jobs a little at a time these days. The backyard is truly overgrown from our rains. I did manage a pretty good start on the weeds and overrun bermuda grass today.)

Anyway, back to this story. I have such interesting grocery trips.

So as I was headed to check out the price on chicken, I saw T-bones were on sale. I picked up a package and it was marked $35.00 but on sale, reduced to $15.27. Even on sale, I just don't want to pay that much. But the disappointment must have shown on my face. Maybe I looked sad or sighed, or both because this very nicely-dressed elderly man -- older than me if you can imagine -- said "You should get it."

I told him even on sale, I can only look at them.

He asked me if I wanted to split a package?

I told him, no, that was okay, I would really be okay with chicken, but thank you all the same.

So then he says, "Let me get it for you."

My immediate response was shock. I said, really, that was okay, I am okay, This is too much. (I meant your offer is too much, not that the cost was too much.)

He says, "I want to get it for you."

"No, no, really, it's fine. Just that you offered is so kind."

I have to say I was taken aback because I am not used to strange men offering to be so generous without a reason. Sure, when I was 20 or 30, men offered plenty. But they definitely had a reason. My alert system was now kicking in. But I figured we are in a public place and other people are around, so everything really is fine. I told him that was such a kind gesture, but I will just make up this stir-fry for dinner, gesturing to my bag of clearance stir-fry. It will be just fine.

Then it hit me, I had three clearance items in the cart and half a pudding cake. Maybe he thinks I am destitute. Maybe he thinks I can only afford half a cake.

So I told him, "It's fine, I have money."

At this point, I did a quick mental check on myself. Yes, I was dressed decently and appropriately, had jewelry on, was clean, hair was combed. I was carrying an expensive purse and wearing good shoes. Okay, I didn't look like a homeless person.

Then I thought maybe I remind him of someone from his past that he needed to make amends to. Or maybe he hit the lottery and is just sharing his good luck. Maybe he's just lonely. Maybe he wanted to feel good about himself for whatever reason. Maybe he had dementia and thought I was someone else. Maybe.Maybe.Maybe. My mind was racing.

So I got my package of chicken and started talking to another woman to sort of diffuse the situation. She had scoped out a great deal on pork loin but she wasn't sure it could be that cheap. What was normally a $10 pork loin roll was on sale for $2. She said, "Can this be right?" I looked at it and it was marked as she said, and I did tell her pork does go on sale about this time of year, before Easter. I offered that maybe they overbought and sometimes they do Manager's Specials, and had to move it or lose it. Maybe they were just trying to re-coop their costs.

She pulled six of the loins and she said, "I have a freezer. These will be great on the grill." She looked like she had stolen the crown jewels. She was so happy. I ended up getting two myself and put them in my basket. (Pork loin this week, folks.)

I parked my buggy and went down the pet food isle and got my bag of Kit-n-Kaboodles. When I got back to the cart, there was the man again holding the package of T-bones.

I thought, "What do I do now?"

The man said, "Please, let me do this." He handed me the package and underneath the package were three five-dollar bills, to cover the cost. Before I could say any more, he was walking away,

I only managed to get out a, "Thank you," and he was gone.

So that's how I ended up having T-bones tonight rather than my chicken stir-fry, which will be on the menu for tomorrow night.

Aren't people just amazing? Who am I to deprive him of his paying it forward, keeping him from exercising his act of kindness? I actually was deeply touched. It is the oddest times that your faith in humanity is revived.

I must say, I enjoyed a good steak, baked potato with mushroom and shallot gravy from the un-named stranger all the while thinking what a wonderful act of kindness he bestowed upon me this day.

I vow to do this for someone else one day when I am particularly flush.

Thank you wherever you are. Thank you whoever you are.

SHARE KINDNESS - PEACE AND GRACE

[wordsonaplate]

Getting Unstuck

I found myself in a pool of inaction, still waters stretching far in all directions. I knew I needed to start paddling one way or the other to move on, move forward.

For a decade I’ve been wanting to try to make bazang, also known as zongzi in Mandarin, but the process always felt daunting. The soaking, the waiting, the trimming, the stir-frying, the wrapping, all of it. I first realized there was a long process behind these rice dumplings when I was around elementary school-age. Back then, my Chinese school principal would organize a day in the summer to teach us how to make these. Hand-sized giant cones of sticky rice filled with all kinds of savory or sweet ingredients and wrapped in bamboo leaves. She’d come prepped with fillings and rice and we’d try to direct our small hands to fill and fold them into dense packages, many of which I’m sure she later rewrapped or pulled together tighter with extra twine.

The bazang would boil for hours and we would go to the courtyard in the back of the school, which was filled with baby grasshoppers. We would rustle the grass and look carefully for small, light green bodies that leapt from one blade to the next. When we spotted one, we would grab it by the head so its hind legs couldn’t kick us. Sometimes we would put them in jars, sometimes we would let them go. I caught them to prove I could. How mighty we wanted to seem, as children, especially to each other.

When the bazang was done, I’d unwrap one and let the steam hit my face, taking in the smell of pork, of five spice, of earthy bamboo leaves. I had seen bazang on restaurant tables, or pulled out of the freezer by my mom and stuck in a steamer. This was one of the first times I realized that there were foods I could devour in minutes but would take a day to make. It was a labor of love I’d save in my mind for the future, a gift I wanted to give when the time was right.

“You can’t let it put you in a state of inaction,” Lucas said, when I realized that the money tree we bought when we first moved to Seattle was dying rapidly. Mushrooms sprouted in its earth, full branches were yellowing and crinkling and falling off. We thought it had too much water or too little water, but neither was saving it. As it lives near the desk, I couldn’t sit next to it to work because it would remind me too much of the possibility of loss. So I avoided the space, coming back every now and then only to tell it to hang on, because didn’t I read some time ago that they could hear us?

It’s not that I believed the money tree to be the symbol of fortune, as it does in my culture. It wasn’t the material loss the saddened me. My mom had tried many times to grow one, and there was a breath of sadness that occupied our spaces when they didn’t make it. I remember sitting in my auntie’s house in Los Angeles, my neck stretched upward to follow her tall money tree from the ground to the second-floor ceiling. I was in awe. She had it for thirty years.

What I was afraid I’d lose in the death of this plant wasn’t fortune. I was afraid of the repeated failure that might come in trying again and again, solidifying my own personal myth that because my mom was never able to get one to live, I too would be stuck in a perpetual state of trying, of never realizing my dreams, if I couldn’t get mine to live.

Saving the plant might not have been difficult. I could have Googled it. I could have bought a fungicide to try. But taking a step forward felt like a massive task I didn’t want to face. So I let it continue to deteriorate.

On one of our walks we saw a dead rabbit stuck in a hole in fence. It was a limp ball of fluff, caught in place, deteriorated by time. It had died halfway through, one half of it in a world of cement, and the other half perpetually moving toward grass. I was sad and angry and nauseous. And I couldn’t get the image out of my mind.

I asked Lucas to buy a new plant, new dirt, a fungicide. Please, can you pick some up?

The only thing I felt like doing was to finally try to make bazang and gift myself that labor of love I had tucked away as a kid. I had texted my mom letting her know I was going to try to make bazang, and she had called me immediately, the excitement clear in her voice as she shared what used to be in her family’s dish. Pork. Shallots. Mushrooms. Dried shrimp. But I wanted to make it vegetarian, so we thought up ingredients to replace the meat. More mushrooms. bamboo shoots. Peanuts.

Like most calls about cooking, she never had a recipe for me the way many people think about recipes. She didn’t measure and didn’t ask me to measure. The steps were vague, the signs of completion boiled down to gut feeling. Questions of  “How much should I put?” would be answered with “You’ll know” or “Look it up online” or “What you feel like.”

She would not give me measurements and I had learned not to ask. Through this process, I think I’m gradually learning to let go of my desire to quantify. This does not equal that. These many thises is not needed to get that many thats. Go with what you feel like. It’s about trusting ourselves, isn’t it? To trust the deep centers we’ve created in growing older, the wells of memories that carry on in our fingers. And if we go with what we feel like and it doesn’t end up where it’s meant to be, we try again.

The message is always there to learn from our mistakes. But it’s not until we fold a few of them with the leaves facing the wrong way, or squeeze a little too hard, that the message sinks in. And it’ll take more and more of these instances to remove it from the cliche. We are all trapped in cycles of trying and trying again, but they’re building our centers inch-by-inch, shaping clay on a potter’s wheel.

Going through the rituals of scrubbing the leaves and running my hands through the rice felt like reading a letter I had written to my future self.

Dear older Angelica,

You can move forward by swirling your hand in the water, draining the deep purple aftermath, and repeating.

You can move forward by prepping.

You can move forward by putting things on heat and filling your space with smells you remember.

You can move forward by starting a long process and taking it one step at a time.

Love,

Elementary school Angelica

Lucas brushed off the mushrooms and repotted the money tree a few days ago. For now it seems its dying has slowed. No new leaves have turned yellow.

Thousands of years ago, according to legend, a famous Chinese poet who was grieving the downfall of his state plunged himself into the river. People threw zongzi into the water to prevent the fishes from eating his body.

When the first batch was done, I unwrapped the bamboo leaves and let the steam hit my face once again, wondering about the things we do to keep ourselves from being devoured.

[hortascountrysidenotes]

Call to Arms

Have just returned from a wonderful 5 days in the Valle d’Aosta but prior to the trip (more on that in a mo) the weather suddenly improved after continual wet and there was the urge to get out and do something!  I managed to get a big bonfire away which helped free up a little space in the glory hole. One or two more roses were pruned and quite a bit of work in and around the veg patch. Had a bit of a sort out in the greenhouse - finally harvested the last of the chillies which are now almost dried enough to blitz to go in a jar, and joy of joys managed to clean nearly all of the outside glass and paintwork - just the back to do.  Also managed to tie up the rather broken blind to let in maximum sunshine.

Unfortunately the marriage for Mavis didnt happen so we are rescheduled for the late spring - not ideal but just one of those things - possibly we could have done with being two days later - she was almost willing but not quite!

My annual quick flit to the mountains for a bit of r and r was absolutely perfect. After all the New Year festivities, it is a quiet week and skiing was a joy with virtually no-one on the pistes, blue sky the entire time and excellent snow conditions.  Had a great time catching up with my Italian friends, having to speak Italian a lot which was very good for me, and the chance to read two books in four days - taking the book in a backpack is brilliant when I had to ski alone, as the coffee break and lunch are excellent opportunities for a few chapters.  So I returned home feeling very refreshed and immediately changed my skiing attire for picking up attire for a long and hard day yesterday.  The girls were thrilled to see me but have been well looked after and had lots of lovely walks with Mr and Miss Horta.

Beautiful day today, contra all forecasts, so I managed a quick hour of starting to cut back and organise the traditionally driest of the borders.  A mole has as usual been causing turmoil but once I start working a bit more, and adding compost etc I think it will push off - it seems to be an annual event!  Pruned the Sweet Juliet and Prosperity rose and cut back to half, the Salvia involucrata - this used to be a pretty tender perennial and if you were lucky to get it through the winter, you definitely did not cut it down until March.  Now with much warmer winters it can take being reduced at least which helps in getting the preparations for spring under way.  I do wonder if we shall have a sting in the tail of February and March as at the moment it is somewhat ridiculous.  The aconites have been in full flower since New Years Eve, the Alliums are poking through in the main border and the great tits and pigeons were singing today as though it were the end of February.

The joy of the winter scents are all around - Sarcococca, Mahonia, Chimonanthus and Viburnums are brilliant and the winter flowering cherry I think is the best I have ever seen it.  Soon to come will be the Daphnes.

Sadly the warmer weather has caused a lot of my bedding plant cuttings to damp off and I have lost all the Verbenas that were doing so well till the end of December.  Luckily the vanilla scented Nemesias seem ok.

Am about to order all my seeds today as I realise I need to start thinking about getting shallots in - the garlic are all through, but as soon as seeds arrive I must sow the broad beans and sweet peas.  It seems to come round very fast!  The rhubarb is showing pink points so I had better put some buckets over the top to force it a little.

Off picking up again tomorrow, forecast is good and a good wind, midweek looks dodgy but still warm.  Grass is growing which is not helpful.  Help comes on Thursday with the last hedge to finish and then we can start on the sad removal of the badly affected box hedging.

Anytime now dont forget to remove the old leaves on the hellebores - the buds are forming up well and as soon as the flower shoots get a little taller it is best to remove these old leaves which get affected by virus so easily - also shows the flowers off to their best.  While it is still mild get the roses finished - the rugosas are shooting in places so they need doing. Prune apples and pears if not done, wisterias also - to 3 buds from main stem on the new growth, and vines before the sap starts to run too much.

HORTA

[quixotickaya]

Ostara

This is one of those times where I’m just sitting here wondering what I should be writing about.  No internal turmoil today, not hating myself or my job or people. Just looking around waiting for life to pass by so that I can go home to my hubby and our baby girl.

So since it’s happening this Saturday, I thought I’d mention the Ostara celebration.  It’s coming up much faster than I realized, and actually, so is the party that Annessa is planning for the 4 of us who have spring birthdays: Marty, Brandon, Me, and Ivy in that order.  This weekend is going to be packed full of parties!  The introvert in me is tired already.  The extrovert in me totally can’t wait to spend two days hanging out with fun people, celebrating spring, and being witchy.

I’ve spent a lot of time walking and peddling the last couple of days.  I even broke my 10,000 steps goal yesterday on my peddle bike at home in the kitchen while I was playing with Ivy.  I made it to exactly 11,000 steps, actually.  The bad news is, I forgot to sync my watch, and the steps didn’t get counted for Pokemon Go past 6,000.  So sad!

I did step on the scale again, and in my sleepy haze, I did not get an exact number, but I did note that it was less than yesterday, and that’s really all the confirmation I needed to just keep on doing what I’m doing.  I’m drinking a salad right now.  I put half an apple, 2 oz of greens, juice of half a lemon, and a couple slices of shallot into a mason jar and blended it up until the jar started to feel warm.  I’ve been making these for a couple weeks now, and I’ve got to say that I think I like baby spinach the best as far as greens to use.  I used the Spice Salad Mix from Léf Farms in the one I’m having today, and there’s a lot more to chew than I’m used to for some reason.

I’m also having a lot of trouble sitting still.

I already cleared it with my boss that I can come in a little early tomorrow so that I can leave a little early to enjoy the beautiful weather that we’re expecting.  I’d really like to take Ivy out to enjoy the sunshine.  Even an extra half an hour in the afternoon would be better than nothing.  I came in 10 minutes early today, and 15 minutes yesterday, so I only have to come in 35 minutes early tomorrow to get an hour of sunshine in the afternoon with my little one.  So stoked! Now let’s cross our fingers that I don’t hit my snooze button and accidentally turn my alarm off in the morning and totally fuck this up.  *crosses fingers*

Spring.  SPRING! *throws arms up in the air*  I am so ready for warmth, sun, and lots of walking.  Bring it on.

 -Angelique

[monstersandmaw]

Footsteps in the Snow - Chapter Five

Lein and Argis begin their journey (finally!) to Windstad Manor, and Lein sees a slightly different side to his housecarl along the way.

Table of Contents | Previous Chpt

He knew, as soon as his brain remembered how to think, that no one would come to him this time. He had ordered Argis not to come in if he heard him screaming in the middle of the night, and Argis had obeyed.

Shaking in the aftermath of the night terror, Lein felt dreadful. His head was full of sawdust and his muscles ached. Drier than the sands of Elsweyr, his throat was parched, and he reached a trembling hand out of the bedside table where his dwarven cup sat. The room was utterly dark, but that didn’t bother him. He was used to moving in shadow, and his spatial memory was excellent. He found the cup faultlessly, but the shaking in his muscles hindered drinking somewhat.

He sighed. He’d had too much to drink at the inn, made a fool of himself, and worked his brain into one of its darker corners. He got like that sometimes. And it would often come upon him when he’d been drinking.

Depressed, shivering, and suddenly overwhelmed by the power in his own body, he felt hot tears prick his eyes and begin to pour silently down his face. Perhaps the true legacy of the dragonborn was to walk through the days of their life alone. Vipir was gone, and in the wake of their fleeting reconnection, Lein felt loneliness wash over him until he began to drown in it. He ached for a closeness. Only a few months ago, Valdimar had written to him to say that he intended to marry his childhood sweetheart, Iona, and was worried about the future of his position with Lein as his housecarl in Hjaalmarch.

Lein of course had replied that he was delighted that Valdimar was going to be married, and that should he wish it there would always be a place for him and for his wife at Windstad, but if he or Iona would prefer not to live in the arse end of nowhere, right on the Sea of Ghosts, known for its violent winter storms, then he would quite understand. Valdimar, bless him, had sent a letter back with the same courier to express his gratitude, and to say that they would postpone the wedding until Lein returned to Hjaalmarch and would be able to attend.

Knowing that Valdimar and Iona would be planning their wedding now that they knew Lein was going to be there by winter solstice, knowing that he would be greeted by a couple very much in love, knowing that he would have to see their close fondness every moment of every day when he got there did not make him sour, but it did make him sad. He ached for that. He ached to have someone to share everything with. To stand by his side and just hold him up when it all got too much, and to do the same for them in return.

Sleep was a cruel and fickle mistress, and she too had left him that night.

He guessed it must have been some time near dawn, and he cast a candlelight spell, shuffling blearily around his room by its ethereal, blue glow. He splashed himself in a perfunctory wash, dressed, and then headed out into the hall. He avoided looking at Argis’ closed door as he passed, hoping the man was fast asleep. He paused though, listening hard, and heard thunderous snoring coming from the other side.

Because he was feeling sour and lonely and grumpy, and his entire body was still crackling with magicka, he summoned a flame atronach and used her to light the fire in the grate. She frowned when he gave the command to ignite the logs gently, her slender body shimmering with heat like strong sun on a dirt road in summer, but she shrugged and obeyed, tumbling backwards in a lazy somersault. When she had breathed life into the little flames around the logs, she stayed beside the fire, clearly loving the warmth and the noise of it.

Lein went to the little storeroom and saw that Argis had been right about the food situation. There were a few crates for perishables but most of them were empty. Only hard cheeses which kept for years in the cool dark of the larder, and a few cured hams were left. Lein sliced these up and prepared them for the road as he had done a thousand times, laying them between the folds of a waxed cloth and rolling it up after each piece was set down in order to keep the meat fresh and tightly sealed for at least the first day of their journey. Skyrim was not Elsweyr, and the meat would not spoil that quickly in the chill air. He cut the big cheese into sections and wrapped that up too in sheets of greaseproof paper he’d got from the butcher, and he stuffed one or two other things into the bundle as well.

When all that remained were six eggs, a little soft goat's cheese, some lightly-smoked, raw bacon, and the last of the shallots, he decided to make an omelette. He wasn’t the greatest cook, not a patch on Argis, but there were a few things he could make better than anyone else. Omelettes were one such thing.

After whisking up the eggs and chopping the onions into small chunks, he realised it was still too early for food, his stomach still feeling more than a little queasy. He swallowed down the last of the cow’s milk that stood on a block of enchanted ice, hoping the softly-creamy texture would sooth the churning in his belly.

With a crackle and a pop like a log of crumbling firewood, the atronach got bored and left him. He knew it’d been petty to summon her just to light the fire, but he didn’t really care. It had been nice to have something else moving around the still living room, even if it was a creature from beyond the doors of oblivion. He sighed, and toyed again with the idea of getting a dog. Maybe one of Gunmar’s war dogs that were half-wolf, half-dog? He couldn’t stand the way Banning’s war dogs constantly barked and yipped.

Perhaps a bit of gentle exercise would make him feel better, he mused.

Heading to the clear space near the fire, his bare feet hardly noticing the chill of the stone floor, he stood a moment with his eyes closed, hands quietly resting in front of his hips. Beginning some of the patterns he had learned with the Dark Brotherhood, he started with a slow, gentle one. It was more about balance training and precision of movement than practising killing strikes, and he had always enjoyed the tug and strain of muscles. He lost himself in the motions, his body working with the fluid grace of a dancer as he shifted with the speed of glacial ice from one stance to the next.

Twice he worked his way through all twenty four of the patterns, the last being the most fiendish of all. His body came to a halt at the end of the second cycle, centred and calm, if still completely exhausted and sleep deprived, and he stood motionless in the very centre of the space. Breathing hard, sweat rolling down the back of his neck, he remained otherwise perfectly still for nearly five minutes, concentrating on the intake and exhale of breath, working with the slow and steady surety of a blacksmith’s bellows.

When he opened his eyes he found Argis standing in the doorway watching him. “Morning,” he rumbled, his voice thick with sleep, though something burned in his eyes behind the grogginess.

Lein nodded silently, inhaling more deeply as though surfacing from underwater. He wondered how long Argis had been watching him.

Argis frowned when he saw the shadows under his thane’s eyes. “Did you even go to sleep, thane?” he asked.

A soft sigh shivered out of Lein’s lips, and he nodded once. “I didn’t get much rest though.”

“More terrors?” Argis asked carefully, sensing he trod on very thin ice.

Lein nodded again.

“Does… Does anything help?” Argis asked, still speaking tentatively.

Lein shook his head. Ruefully, he added, “Actually, skooma does, but I’ve seen too many of those poor bastards shaking and twitching on the side of the road to go down that route.” He sighed. “Mostly I just don’t sleep.”

Argis shook his head, his features filling with a sad kind of compassion that rekindled a lot of the ache Lein had worked so hard to drive from his chest. Argis crossed sleepily to the table where Lein had begun his breakfast plans, and looked up at him, forced by his blind eye to turn all the way around so he could see him properly. “You want to cook this morning?” he asked in a warm, even voice.

Lein sighed. “I had thought about making one of my speciality omelettes,” he said, “But if you have something you’d rather do with that lot, I don’t mind. I was going to have a proper wash and come back and cook it.”

“I’m happy to make one for you, or to leave it. Up to you,” Argis smiled.

Lein wondered why he was being quite so polite. Perhaps Lein really had made him uncomfortable with his mood swing the previous evening. Or perhaps it really was that he knew the truth about Lein’s preferences. Yet another sigh rolled from him and he shrugged. “I don’t mind.” The weariness in his tone caught even Lein by surprise as he shuffled out of the room towards the bathroom, feeling little better than he had when he’d gone to bed.

The searingly hot bath went some way towards making him feel more like a human and less like a six-hundred year old desiccated draugr, but still, when he emerged with his white hair dripping around his neck, bundled up in his favourite fur-collared jacket, he remained about as grumpy as a frost troll. Argis had left the ingredients alone and had returned to his bedroom, though the door was open. The smell of frying cubes of bacon seemed to draw him out, and as Lein began to soften the shallots in the hot bacon fat, he strolled out and quietly stood by the table.

“Would you like some tea?” Argis asked a moment or two later.

“Mmm, please,” he hummed, stirring the onions and adding the circles of goats cheese to fry before adding the whisked eggs to the enormous skillet.

“There’s no milk,” Argis murmured as he set the ceramic mug down beside Lein. The gesture was an easy, graceful lean, and it made Lein’s insides flip weirdly. He rolled his brown and blue eyes to himself, scolding himself for not getting a handle on his crush sooner. He really was behaving like some thirteen year old girl. And now Argis had to know.

“I drank it this morning, I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t take my tea with milk, and it was thoughtless of me.”

“I don’t mind,” he chuckled, setting two plates down near Lein so he could tip the omelette onto them when it was ready. “I like it either way.”

Lein snorted a soft laugh to himself at the irony of the comment. He shook his head, a strand of hair falling into his eyes. He swiped it away angrily. Argis seemed to sense that strange mood hovering above his shoulders like a wraith, and left him in peace.

With breakfast ready and smelling so good that even Lein felt like he could tolerate some food in his stomach, he cut the omelette in half and slid each bit onto the waiting plates.

Argis dug in with relish and was halfway through the hot meal before he paused to thank his thane. “This is great,” he enthused. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“I can’t, generally speaking,” Lein said, picking at his own food with a lot less vigour. “Not like you, but I can do a few things.” He gestured towards his plate with his fork, “This is one of them.”

“It’s good,” he smiled, polishing off the last few scraps of bacon and standing, taking his plate with him. He crossed to the table and cut a slice of thick, white bread from the last loaf on the table, wiping it over the plate to soak up the last few delicious smears before turning to Lein and asking, “You want some bread?”

Lein shook his head and looked back at his plate. There was still more than half left. “I can’t even finish this. You want it?”

“If you don’t,” Argis hedged gently. “You sure?”

Lein nodded, holding the plate out to him and closing his eyes briefly.

“You still want to head out today?” Argis asked, practically inhaling Lein’s leftovers. It was rather sweet, really.

“Yeah,” Lein said. “Yeah, I do. I think a nice open sky and a dozen or so miles of walking will do me some good. I don’t do well cooped up in cities. I get…” he gestured vaguely with his hand, “Funny…”

Argis only nodded once, before washing the plates and beginning to do the last checks on the house. Lein stayed by the fire, lost in thought. His bags were packed, his few valuables locked in the safe or stowed in his bags, his weapons readied. All that was lacking was his usual enthusiasm. He guessed that would come back under the gathering winter skies and after a few lungfuls of Skyrim’s freezing air.

The view from the balcony, over the valley beyond the walls, took Lein’s breath away. He wasn’t a morning person on the whole, so he rarely saw the dawn in all her splendour, but that morning was particularly lovely. A few clouds hung lazily in the ripening morning sky directly above them, with a thick bank building on the horizon. The sharp tooth of a lone mountain peak broke through the rising colour of the sky with a dark shadow. Mist gathered at the end of the valley where Markarth was nestled, woolly clouds snagging on the razor spine of the mountains, and as he lost himself in the sight, Lein was relieved to feel a little hope and happiness kindle.

The world was out there waiting for him. There were larger things than his petty personal struggles. He would overcome this. He had the World-Eater to destroy at some point, after all. He sucked in a huge breath of air and turned to look at Argis, who was also smiling softly at the view.

They locked Vlindrel Hall up, and Lein’s backpack bashed against his spine on the stairs, but he paid it little mind. A few guards paced about, their footsteps barely audible over the rush of water in the gullies outside the Silverblood Inn. Some spoke to Argis, but neither he nor his thane informed them they were leaving for a long time away. No use advertising an empty house to one and all. It was still early, but one or two traders were there setting up in the marketplace. For the most part, though, Argis and Lein were ignored as they moved towards the huge bronze gates.

Beyond in the stable yard, a pair of guards trained together breath billowing in the cold air, and one yelled at Argis to come over and have a swing. Argis chuckled at her and hefted his pack up his shoulder. “Can’t today, Morana.”

“Chicken!” she yelled, grinning, and Argis chuckled back. She waved at Lein, her plate gauntlet clinking warmly. “Safe travels, and may you find softer beds than those in Markarth!” she joked, playing on the old blessing which wished travellers safe skies and warm beds.

Lein nodded his thanks and waited for Argis to begin walking again, not wanting to rush the man out of his childhood home and onto the road before he was ready.

As they passed the carriage, Kibell the driver called out to him from his seat on the top, a mug of steaming tea in his hands, and asked if he wanted a ride. Lein politely turned him down, but crossed over to stroke the shaggy bay gelding’s nose anyway, laughing softly as the horse blew warm breath into his gloved hands and nosed about, hoping for an apple. Yes, his mood was brightening.

Not for the first time, Lein marvelled at the intricacies of the stone carvings on Markarth’s outer ramparts as he walked by them. Every surface bore a chisel mark of some sort, every corner a decorative band of egg and dart or swirling scrollwork. The towers as they passed beneath them were still clad in curved sheets of ancient, riveted dwarven metal, blazing untarnished like burnished gold in the early morning light. All the while they walked, Argis kept a steady, silent pace beside him.

The waterfall at the base of the top ramparts crashed spectacularly, and little flashes of light caught Lein’s keen eyes. The dragonflies darted in and out of the spray, their iridescent bodies glinting in the light like the tower roofs above them. Nature was getting on with its rhythm, and he sucked in a great breath of clean air. His tired body seemed to fill with new vigour, and the prickle behind his eyes began to vanish.

They were not the only ones out and about at that hour, and Left Hand Mine was bustling over the river to their right, and the scrape, scrape, scrape of a bristle brush on the air told him that old Vigdis was up, sweeping the path to the Salvius Farm. When she caught sight of him, she raised the broom and beckoned him over. He didn’t have the heart to turn her down, and he indulged her in a lengthy chat about how much she missed her son, Vigdis rabbiting on and on about Leontius, and how she wished he’d make the journey to see them from Old Hroldan. When Lein noticed Argis smiling indulgently as he rolled his shoulders out, Lein excused himself and wished her well, rejoining Argis on the road.

A rangy, wire-haired mutt came loping over to them before they’d gone another few paces down the road, the short shriek of a girl following in its wake, and Lein chuckled as Erith ran after the dog. “I’m starting to wonder if we’ll ever leave,” he shot sideways at Argis.

“Toran!” Erith yelled at the dog, “Toran, come here!” but the hound ignored her completely, marching up to Lein and sticking his wet nose straight into Lein’s hand. The scratchy muzzle tickled and Lein knelt to play with his ears. Eirith laughed too, and begged him to play hide and seek with her again. “I can’t this time,” he said, and her little face fell. “I’m going on an adventure with my friend.” But when he straightened, he fished a taffy treat out of an accessible pocket of his bag for her, and took her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger. “You look after Toran here,” he said, “And be good, won’t you. You remember what I taught you last time?”

She brought her little fists up into a pretty decent fighting stance and lashed out at him with a good jab-cross combination. He let the strikes connect with his stomach, though he tensed against the blows just in case. They weren’t half bad.

“Don’t let them get hold of you, but if they do, kick them where it hurts and run,” she said seriously.

“That’s it,” he laughed, ruffling her hair. “And don’t ever let anyone push you around. You still practising your reading and writing?”

She nodded again, her face earnest. “Pavo’s been going through some stories with me.”

“Good. You can make anything you like of yourself when you’re old enough,” he laughed. “Now, I must be going.” He scratched Toran’s ears one last time, and Argis said nothing as they left, though Lein had the distinct impression that he was looking at him more intently, as though he had just learned something new about his thane. “She’s sweet,” Lein mused aloud. “She often gets lonely there I think. Her parents work the mines, and Toran’s her only friend really. I got to know her a bit when I did a favour for one of the other miners.”

“Taught her some useful tricks too,” Argis added, eyeing Lein’s stomach where the girl had punched him.

“Yeah, well… It never pays to be too careful out here, and especially for a young girl.” He cast his eyes back at the retreating pair, cavorting around in the road again, Toran barking furiously. “And she’ll be a pretty young woman when she grows up. I’d hate to see her get hurt.”

Argis smiled again, and fixed him with his hazel eye. “Yeah,” he said, voice cracking.

Lein flashed him a quizzical look, but the housecarl only shook his head.

Neither man spoke as they walked briskly down the path, and Lein caught the whiff of wood-smoke as they neared the bridge and the signpost at the end of the valley. The sun broke gloriously above the mountains, light gilding the curved under-bellies of the clouds and filling the early day with a weak warmth. Their breath still fogged the air, and Lein took the path that led to Solitude. Up ahead they saw the signs of a Khajiit camp, the bleary eyed traders wrapped up against the Skyrim cold. Ri’saad, the elderly Khajiit sitting cross-legged on his mat, looked up brightly and purred when Lein crouched in front of him. Lein traded a few bits and bobs from him more out of courtesy than necessity, and Ri’saad murmured softly, “May your roads lead you to warm sands.”

Lein straightened with a rueful laugh and said, “I’m afraid our road leads us to icebergs and snowstorms, but I pray your road leads you back to warm sands soon, friend.”

The Khajiit nodded, tip of his tail twitching against the thick mat beneath him, but he said nothing more as they left.

Thick, heavy raindrops began to darken the earth about an hour later, and Lein grumbled, pulling up the shrouded cowl he liked to wear on the road. It was enchanted to improve his already impressive archery skills, but it served nicely to keep the rain out as they followed the wide, gushing river which carved a deep path, rushing and rumbling away to their right. A series of stunningly high waterfalls plunged down into foaming depths, and Lein felt his head spin a bit as he got too near the edge. For a dragonborn, who could supposedly ride on the backs of the great winged beasts, he had a piss-poor head for heights. Added to that was the evidence of mudslides and cliff collapses, no doubt brought on by the autumn rains. Piles of rubble, and raw-looking wounds gaping in the hillside, were clearly visible from the edge, and he rapidly found himself back on the relative safety of the paved road.

As they glimpsed the stone bridge at the end of the road, Argis grabbed him and hissed, “Forsworn, outside Kolskeggr Mine.” And he dropped down out of sight behind a boulder, leaving enough space for Lein to duck in next to him.

“How many?” Lein asked, sinking into a crouch beside him and drawing his bow from the hook on his pack, nocking an arrow in a swift, silent motion. The daedric bow, Flamekiss, crackled with magicka in his hands.

“I saw three, but there could be more,” he breathed, also nocking an arrow to his own bow.

Lein saw a movement then on the road and took aim, loosing the shaft on the exhale. The Forsworn went down with a yell in a cloud of red flames, and the other two rushed over to inspect the commotion, setting themselves up perfectly for Argis and Lein to take them out from their hiding place.

“I can’t see any more,” Argis murmured, straightening. “Wait here though. I’ll check…”

“I’m coming with you,” Lein hissed, and they made their way down the slope together. When no shrieking Forsworn hurled themselves out of the underbrush at them, they carried on their way, taking the road towards Karthwasten.

Just past Kolskeggr, the river broadened out into a rocky valley, splitting off east in one direction and north in another, the rocky promontory forming a bastion for what Argis told him was a series of Forsworn camps. Lein also knew that the Skyhaven Temple stood perched on the very top, wreathed as usual in a gloomy, dark cloud.

Beneath bare, wind-blasted trees, their branches adorned only with wet hanging moss, the two men passed in silence once more. Lein paused on the bridge below the Lover’s Stone to admire the plunging cascades, leaning on the damp stonework a moment. The dull ringing of a nirnroot caught his ears and he looked down to see the little plant glowing softly in the shadow of the bridge. He cast a playful look back at Argis, grinned, and then, to his housecarl’s complete horror, vaulted over the side of the bridge. Argis must have thought he was leaping to his death, because he yelped Lein’s name and rushed to the masonry edge, but sighed in relief when he saw that his thane was standing in ankle-deep mud just a short distance down, with the now-silent herb dangling triumphantly from his gloved fingers.

Lein flashed him another white smile, and Argis shook his head. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he said, still shaking his head. “I swear it, you’ll scare me to death.”

Lein only laughed and stowed the plant in his herb pouch before scrambling back up to the road again, accepting the gauntleted hand that his housecarl offered down to him. Argis’ good mood faded noticeably, however, as they neared the shadowy entrance to a cave. “Blind Cliff Cave,” he murmured. “Forsworn bastion. There’s a pair of hagravens there too.”

“I know,” Lein nodded. “Though there’s only one now, and she’s actually not entirely evil.”

“What?” he blasted, clearly shocked, coming to a dead halt. “They’re all evil.”

He shrugged, though Argis’ reaction had taken him by surprise. “Yeah, I’ll agree with you, but I had a contract from the jarl to recover his familial shield. One of the hagravens had stolen it. Petra, her name was.” Argis’ scowl deepened and he stayed rooted to the spot, glowering. “Anyway, Petra pissed Melka, her sister, off by taking over the tower and locking her up inside. I met the sister when I did the contract, and she started talking to me through the bars of her cage.” Argis was clearly still astounded, but Lein pressed on. “I nocked an arrow quick as you like, but she promised she wouldn’t harm me if I helped her kill her sister. I figured I’d give it a go – I’ve taken on hagravens before – so I freed Melka, and she gave me a flashy staff in return for my help.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t choose to go back in there, but I think that’s the only hagraven in the whole of Tamriel we don’t need to worry about.”

Argis’ huge feet seemed to have frozen to the hard-packed dirt of the road. “You helped one of them?” he hissed, breath shivering. “You know what they’re like, what they do to people… and still… you helped one?”

Lein’s eyes narrowed. “She was a useful ally in a very hairy situation,” he said carefully.

“You should have run her through afterwards,” he spat, stamping off down the road away from Blind Cliff Cave entrance.

Lein was stunned. He had never heard such acid venom from the quiet, gentle man.

With one last look over his shoulder at the bastion walls just visible in the cliffs above them, he hurried after him. With the river on their right, Lein walked along at the pace of a soldier, and Argis, equally unrelenting, kept perfectly in step along the mountainous river-gully path. His mood was black and sour as the clouds above them.

The silence that hung between them was different after that. It was awkward and sharp, like a stone in Lein’s boot, and he kept casting sidelong looks at his housecarl. Argis marched beside him, eyes locked on the horizon, jaw grinding, mouth set in a grim expression for miles until they came to the fork in the road which led to Karthwasten. Three imperial soldiers took a collective look at the two men and encouraged them to head to Solitude to join up. Lein had no interest in taking sides, and was a thane in places under both Stormcloak and Imperial control. He nodded politely at the soldiers and then continued on down the road.

They ate bread and cheese on the side of the road, barely stopping long enough to wash it down with some weak ale, and continued on their way as the day progressed. They’d barely said more than two words to each other since Blind Cliff Cave.

Smoke rose from an upper courtyard when they neared Broken Tower Redoubt, and Argis hissed that they could probably sneak past the lower battlements undetected or turn left at a cairn just before the keep, a route that would take them north instead towards the Stormcloak camp and then Dragonsbridge.

“I’d planned to go through Morthal and up that way to Windstad rather than over towards Solitude…” he said, still speaking cautiously as Argis was clearly still rattled by their talk at Blind Cliff Cave. “Which way would you rather go?”

Argis seemed taken aback by the question. “I… Why would you ask me?”

Lein smiled. “You said you’d been to Solitude but that it was a while back, but also that you’ve never been to Morthal. You might want to go to either.” He shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

“But…” Argis scowled. “But…?”

“But what? I’m the thane so we have to do what I say?” he snarled. “I’m the monster who helped a hagraven once so I’ve lost all your respect, if ever I had it? Is that it?”

Argis blinked, looking surprised all over again. He licked his scarred lips and sighed, softening, the anger draining out of him at the sight of the hurt expression plastered across Lein’s face. “I’m sorry,” he said eventually, exhaling. “Truly, I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Lein murmured, casting a glance back at the fortress looming ahead, hoping no one could see them.

“No,” Argis muttered. “It isn’t. It’s no secret that I hate the hagravens and the Forsworn with everything I am, but I wasn’t there with you in that tower. I had no right to judge you for your actions, or tell you how you should have handled it. I’m sorry.”

Lein’s mouth twitched into a smile and he clapped Argis on the shoulder. “You scared me there, big guy, with that anger of yours. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Argis’ face fell a little further and he blushed. “I don’t get angry very often,” he said, his voice rough and harsh as gravel, “But after what happened to… Something about hearing that you helped them just made me snap. I’m sorry.”

“Now’s not the time for this,” Lein said, turning back to the keep. As much as he desperately wanted to know what had happened to Argis, they had to get past the keep. “You want to sneak past, and head down to Morthal, or go to Dragonsbridge and Solitude?”

Argis eyed the keep, squinting in the flat light of the wet afternoon. Lein wondered if his eyesight gave him trouble. “What do you want to do?” Argis asked, still keeping his eyes on the castle.

“Either is fine,” he grinned.

“Alright,” he sighed. “Morthal. But I’m not sure I’m going to be as stealthy as you in this plate armour…”

Lein eased his pack down off his shoulder and rummaged around in the bit where he’d stashed his potions - carefully this time. He handed Argis a small bottle and said, “This should help…”

He looked at it with the same suspicion all Nords regarded potions that weren’t directly for healing, but he obviously decided Lein wasn’t about to give him skeever poison, and downed it.

“Come on,” Lein grinned. “You’re so quiet even I can’t hear you behind me.”

“Shut up and keep going, thane,” Argis snickered as they passed the doorway, creeping around the buttresses and making it past the keep without being discovered.

Shaking a little with built-up adrenaline, Lein stood on the cliff-top out of sight of the castle, and stared off into the distance. Argis stood beside him. “Is that Solitude?” the big housecarl asked, nodding at the barely-visible outlines of the city on the promontory.

“Yeah,” he said. “And behind that low, jagged peak there is Windstad. Morthal,” he added, pointing further east, “Is over that way.” He squinted through the rain that had been falling steadily all day. “Looks like the snows have come early this year in the north,” he grumbled as he saw white-dusted pine trees and the shoulders of the mountains banked with deep snow already.

With a sigh that mingled with the whipping wind, Lein turned away and began to walk slowly down the steep hill. He snagged idly at some sweet lavender from the roadside as they descended the blustery ridge, and he busied himself with tucking some of it jauntily into a buttonhole on his warm leather jerkin. He was so preoccupied with it that he didn’t even see the wolf in the craggy rocks to his right before Argis had snatched his own hunting bow from his back and loosed at it. It went down with a snarl, one of Argis’ ebony arrows lodged deep in its eye socket.

Lein looked up in surprise and then turned to Argis, who was calmly fitting his bow back on his backpack. When the housecarl looked up, he seemed almost embarrassed.

“Thank you,” Lein breathed. “I wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Argis mumbled modestly.

“Good thing,” Lein chuckled. “Come on.

Their progress east drew a yawn from Argis and Lein realised that while the heavy-set housecarl trained every day with the other guards, he was not used to walking long distances. “You think we should make camp soon?” Lein asked him.

Argis looked at the cloud-covered sky, squinting as rain splashed into his eyes, and he shrugged. “I’m tired,” he admitted, “But I don’t think it’s even late afternoon yet.”

“You’re good to keep going a little while longer then? We could rest up near Crabber’s Shanty,” he said. “But it’s a good five or six miles til then, and there’s a bandit camp at Robber’s Gorge we’ve got to get round first…”

“No, that’s ok,” Argis smiled. “I’m not gonna faint on you.”

“Good to know,” Lein grinned. “I don’t think I could carry you.”

Argis’ smile broadened and he looked at him more softly still. “It won’t come to that,” he said as they tramped along the curving road together. “Don’t worry. How are you holding up though? If you’ve had more than three hours sleep, you can call me a goat.”

Lein’s laughing response was cut short as his sharp eyes caught sight of a trio of dark wolves high on the hill above the path, but almost before he’d had time to register them, Argis had tapped him on the shoulder and pointed at two much larger predators stalking the paved surface of the road.

“Sabres,” he murmured.

“One each, one shot only?” Lein smirked.

“You’re on. And no extra magic.”

Lein raised his hand to his chest in mock horror. “I’m insulted!”

“Shut up, or you’ll lose our advantage,” he chuckled, sinking into a crouch and nocking an arrow in perfect synchrony with Lein.

Lein’s shot sailed through the air and thudded home in the beast’s forehead. Its mate spun with a snarl, claws digging into the road as it thundered along towards them. Argis cursed and loosed, but missed wildly. He swore and nocked another arrow, but Lein could see it was going to take him too long to aim. He already had another nocked. “Argis?”

“Do it,” he sighed. “I’m much better with a greatsword anyway.”

The second arrow whizzed and hit its mark, the sabre crumpling into the dust, carried several yards in a dramatic skid by the momentum of its charge. “Phew,” Lein breathed, stowing his bow back in its place. “Right, that’s enough, Mother Nature. I just want to get to Crabber’s Shanty now.”

Argis laughed softly in agreement. The road down onto the rocky pass in the mountains was mercifully empty, and Lein stopped every now and again to pluck tundra cotton and mountain flowers from the side of the way.

“You ever actually do anything with those?” Argis asked.

“You mean ‘do I weave pretty purple flower crowns with them’?’” Lein half giggled, skipping a couple of paces. When Argis barked a laugh in response, he added, “Yeah. This one’s got a number of uses,” he said, holding up a purple mountain flower and twirling it thoughtfully between his finger and thumb. He tapped Argis on the breastplate with it. “There was one in the potion you drank back there to sneak past those Forsworn.”

They laughed and joked, and Lein was pleased to find Argis relaxing again in his company. He wasn’t about to push him to talk about his hatred of the hagravens or the Forsworn just yet, but he would have been lying if he’d said he wasn’t interested.

Rounding the corner to a crossroads as evening deepened behind the dense grey clouds, Lein caught sight of a cart standing abandoned in the centre of a crossroads, with a chest sitting in the bed. Suddenly everything felt very wrong. He froze, and then tugged Argis back behind a rock.

“What is it?” Argis asked warily, recovering his balance, though he did not pull his arm out of Lein’s grip.

Lein shook his head, fingers clenched tight. “Bandits in the rocks. I’m sure of it. Hang on,” and he cast Argis a sidelong look. “I’m… er… going to shout, but, don’t worry, it’ll be a quiet one.” He watched Argis’ mismatching eyes narrow first in confusion, and then widen when he realised he was going to witness the dragonborn using the power of the Voice.

“Why?”

“It’s a shout to detect the life-force of all living things nearby. It’ll tell me how many there are. Ready your bow though, just in case.” He cleared his throat and added, “And it might make my eyes look kind of funny for a bit. Well, funnier than they already do anyway.”

Argis nodded, but still didn’t say anything. He seemed to have gone completely mute, and Lein couldn’t work out if it was from fear or excitement.

Lein took a moment to think on the words he would need, and on the true essence of their meaning. He inhaled deeply, and drew on the dragonblood inside him, calling on the power of the Voice, channelling the millennia of knowledge and magic. He felt the words rasp out of him in a shuddering whisper. “Laas yah nir.” His vision went black as his eyes readjusted and then the scene returned to him, exactly as it had been before. The only difference was the addition of five shimmering, red auras concealed in the rocks ahead.

Without turning to look at Argis, Lein readied his bow and crept forwards. Using signs he’d picked up from guards, he signalled how many there were, and their locations. Argis tapped his shoulder to signal his silent understanding.

Loosing two arrows in rapid succession, Lein silenced a couple of bandits before they could even work out what was happening. The others ducked out of range, and he heard an arrow sailing through the air, sinking into the frost chilled ground not three feet from where he had taken up position. He knew he’d have to fight at close range soon.

Drawing his ebony sword, feeling the magicka crackling in it, he stowed his bow again and sprinted out of his hiding place and ducked as another arrow shot at him. He heard Argis yell his name in desperate warning, but he didn’t stop to look. The hilt fitted perfectly in his palm, his fingers gripping it just tightly enough to wield it with confidence. As a huge orc charged, bellowing like a wounded mammoth, he ducked beneath the blow and drove the blade deep into his belly, turning and slicing his head clean off from behind. Another arrow embedded itself in the hillside beside him, and he rolled behind a boulder. He heard Argis give a great war shout, and peered out to see the steel of his massive greatsword flashing in the dim light.

Locked in combat with a big Nord in heavy near the cart, overburdened by the pack on his back, Argis couldn’t see the other bandit along the road on his blind side, aiming an arrow straight him. The shimmering effects of the shout still half blinded him, but he pelted down the hill, stones flying as he sprinted down the road. He shot past Argis and took on the remaining bandit alone. Their fight didn’t last long.

Lein turned back towards the chest, blade running red with blood, and saw Argis leaning on the hilt of his greatsword, the point dug into the cobbles of the road, clutching at his stomach, with the bandit lying dead at his feet. Blood was running between his fingers, and Lein’s heart lurched. “Gods, Argis,” he said, darting to his side. Dropping his sword in the dust, he reached his hands out, a golden light blossoming in his palms, and Argis sucked in a sharp breath as the warm light wrapped itself around him.

"Wha-? Hey!” he coughed, “That felt good!” He staggered a bit, and Lein steadied him, beginning to laugh in relief, amused by Argis’ head-rush.

“First time anyone’s used magic on you, I’m guessing,” he chuckled. And then he realised what he was really seeing. The aura whisper was still active, and red mist swirled around him, through him, in a pattern that Lein had never seen before. It was entrancing. Mesmerised by it, he simply stared until it began to fade and he felt his eyes returning to normal again.

“Lein?”

Wide eyed, he still couldn’t tear himself away from it as the last swirls of energy whipped around Argis’ chest.

“You ok? What’s wrong?”

“I…” he breathed, faltering, feeling lightheaded himself. “I’ve never seen an aura so beautiful,” he hissed, not even caring if he sounded foolish. He blinked and stared again. He realised with a jolt that his hand was actually resting on Argis’ chest-plate, fingers splayed, palm pressed against him. He jerked it back like he’d been shocked by lightning. “Gods, I’m sorry,” he spluttered. “I’m sorry. Forgive me,” and he turned away, busying himself with opening the chest and exploring the contents. “Fifty two gold, three lockpicks, and one bar of refined malachite,” he murmured to himself. He counted out twenty six gold pieces and popped them into his own coin purse at his belt. The rest he handed to Argis.

The housecarl took the pouch, but did nothing with it. When Lein realised this, he frowned. “It’s yours,” he said.

“What?”

“Half of it anyway.”

Argis stared at the bag in his hands like he’d never held so much gold in one go. It wasn’t that much, and Lein didn’t understand his bafflement. “My thane,” he murmured. “I… Are you sure?”

“You fought for your life back there - and mine - you earned it nine-times over!”

“But…”

“Come on,” Lein scowled, picking up his sword and tramping off down the road without looking back. The rain was easing up now, but the road was slick, slowing his usual march to a fast walk.

At the base of a waterfall, Lein noticed the setting sun flashing off a chest tucked away beneath a tree, and slithered down the rocks, wading up to his thighs in the freezing water. The lock must have been designed by a master locksmith, because it took him a couple of goes to get it open, but he was rewarded with another load of gold, a flawless diamond, and an enchanted ebony dagger. He looked up to see Argis coming more carefully down the riverbank, his heavy frame and armour putting him at a disadvantage over Lein in his flexible metal-studded leather.

Paused on the island in the middle of the shallow river, Lein nodded up at the palisade wall of the camp on the promontory. The towers of the encampment overlooked a mudcrab-filled pool into which the river drained, and he hissed, “That’s Robber’s Gorge. We want to avoid that if we can.”

Argis nodded in agreement, and followed Lein’s lead as he snuck up the hillside, his leathers squelching horribly after wading through the river. The little hut drew into sight in the distance, just visible in the middle of the narrow pass in the mountains as darkness fell properly around them.

Lein picked his way up the river, calling back to Argis, who was falling further behind him, to watch his ankles. There were hidden mudcrabs everywhere in the soft silt, and they liked nothing more than to grab at the heels of the passers by who disturbed them.

He heard Argis trip and stumble more times than he could count, and eventually there was a louder crash and a curse as he went down. “Fuck.”

“You ok?”

“Yeah,” he moaned, with a definite tone of dejection in his voice. He dusted himself off and mumbled, “I… I just… with my eye, I don’t do very well in the dark.”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Lein said. “That was thoughtless of me. I completely forgot.” He looked up at the shack and then back at Argis’ face. “Forgive me.”

In the fading light he looked surprised, but not offended, that Lein had forgotten that he was blind in that eye.

“It’s not far. I’m thinking we should camp on the far side of the hut. There’s usually a fisherman there, and I doubt she’ll share with us.” He watched Argis brushing dirt and mud off his trousers and adjusting his pack where it had shifted during his fall. Lein stepped back to him and said, “I’m sorry I didn’t bring a torch. We’re out of sight of Robber’s Gorge now. Here,” and he took Argis’ hand in his. Before he could get distracted by the smooth calluses and warm gentleness of his hand in Lein’s, he placed a ball of magelight in it, and when it hit his palm, it stuck there.

Argis turned his palm down to illuminate the rocks and then looked up at Lein. “How… How long will this last?”

“Not very long,” he said, trying hard not to laugh at the Nord’s nervousness. “And if you like, I can re-cast it when it goes out.”

“Thanks,” he said warily, still unsure about the magical light stuck to his hand. “It’s kind of freaky,” he said, wiggling it around. Lein did laugh then, and turned away to keep walking, more slowly this time, and much closer to him.

Argis still had trouble in the dark, and Lein wondered if perhaps the contrast between the blue-white glow of the magelight against the blackness was too great, still distorting the distances which he must have had trouble judging in full daylight, let alone darkness.

He coughed nervously after a few minutes and then, as Argis stumbled again on a loose river rock, said, “Look, I don’t want to patronise you, but would it be easier if you grabbed my arm?”

The housecarl sighed. In the silence behind the gesture, the magelight glimmered into nothingness and he watched Argis’ head lower, both his eyes closed. “Probably. I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t want to be a burden to you.”

“You’re not a burden,” Lein said, stepping close to him. “And it’s not your fault. Come on,” and he touched Argis lightly on his left arm. He slid his left hand up Lein’s slender arm and held him gently between his thumb and forefinger just above his elbow.

He didn’t trip half so much with Lein to guide him, and when they reached the hut a few minutes later, they saw the sleeping figure of a woman lying in the bed, just as Lein had predicted. His hand was warm and his grasp gentle, and Lein never wanted him to let go.

“There’s a nice spot I’ve used before, just up here,” he said. “There’s a good, clean waterfall, and some sheltered rocks.”

They waded through the shallow stream and crossed onto the far bank. All was exactly as Lein remembered. Except for the sabre cat curled up in his usual campsite. “Perfect,” Argis murmured when Lein told him what he could see. “What do we do now?”

With a snarl of frustration Lein drew his bow and shot the creature while it slumbered. He felt sorry for killing it, but there was no way he was making Argis walk another step in the dark. The man was exhausted and embarrassed, and they needed to curl up themselves, dry off their clothes around a fire, and get some sleep. They could afford to take a much shorter day the next day, even though the snows were beginning to fall over the forests around Morthal.

“Do we have to sleep with the corpse of that cat?” Argis asked. If Lein had told him to kiss a draugr he wouldn’t have sounded less thrilled.

“No,” Lein chuckled. “I have an idea. It’ll take another shout though. First one I ever learned. You up for one last bit of magic tonight?”

Argis smirked. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it, but sure, why not?”

The carcass of the big cat was blasted away under the power of Lein’s full shout of unrelenting force, leaving the campsite clear for them. They watched as it was washed away on the current of the river below.

Argis laughed long and loud as it spun through the air like a child’s toy flung aside, then let out a huge grunt as he took off his pack and rolled out his shoulders. “How far have we come today, you reckon?” he asked as he flopped onto the ground beside it and began to undo his bedroll from where it was strapped in a waxed sack to the bottom of the pack.

Lein undid his own and set it down on the ground in the relative shelter of the rocks. “Easily twenty miles,” he said. “I’m going to be sore tomorrow. It’s been ages since I’ve covered that much ground on foot.”

“Me too,” Argis groaned, kicking off his wet boots. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a spell for drying out clothes, have you?”

Lein chuckled. “No, but if you take your wet things off and give them to me I’ll light a fire and they can dry overnight.” He could have sworn he heard Argis mutter something about Lein stripping him, but since he wasn’t entirely sure, he definitely didn’t want to mention it.  “I don’t think it’s going to rain or snow any more tonight.”

With a fire going, wearing clean clothes and with their wet ones drying beside it on a makeshift driftwood rack, they both wolfed down some more bread and cheese, washed down with fresh water and a pint each of Nord Ale, and slipped into their bedrolls. Both men lay close to the fire for warmth as the late Frostfall snows began to gather in the distance. Lein lay on Argis’ right side, close enough that if they stretched their arms out, they would meet in the middle. He curled up in his bedroll, wearing just a linen shirt and his underwear inside the thick fur-lined sleeping bag, since his trousers were still soggy from the river. Normally he’d have put socks on, but he’d been too lazy to fish them out, so he lay there with icy toes and waited for sleep.

Argis was asleep in two minutes flat, snoring softly, the bedroll folded slightly back off his chest, as though he needed to vent heat instead of conserve it like Lein. His left arm was flung up above his head, and his right bent at the elbow, hand resting on his chest as it rose and fell. He shuffled in his sleep, and that hand shifted to lie on the damp grass beside him. The heat and glow of the fire was gorgeous, and Lein tried hard not to stare at the sharp planes of Argis’ roughly-hewn face in the light of the little flames, at his long lashes, or the way his exposed arm lay elegantly over the cool grass, fingers curled softly inwards, palm up.

He closed his eyes, fighting the urge to reach out and touch the bare skin of his arm, to feel those calluses again, to slip his fingers into Argis’ hand and feel his warmth flow into him.

Unable to bear it any longer, he allowed himself one tiny luxury. Repeating the words of the aura whisper shout from earlier, he sighed as that gently-swirling red energy filled his vision again. It twisted in and out of Argis’ body like smoke from an extinguished candle, spiralling and coiling around him lazily, richly, warmly. He stared unashamedly at him until the effects died and exhaustion washed over him.

When he woke with a start as usual some time in the dead of night, he saw that Argis hadn’t moved. Lein realised that he’d not shouted or screamed this time. He’d only awoken suddenly with that feeling of falling common to many dreamers who found themselves jolted awake in the night. Lein lay on his left side facing Argis still, and sighed. And then he frowned. There was a pressure on his right hand. He turned his eyes and looked down to where his right arm was lying on the ground between him and Argis. His eyes widened and his heart began to clang when he saw what was causing the pressure.

The housecarl’s strong fingers were clenched around Lein’s own.

His brown and blue eyes darted to Argis’ face, but the man appeared to be fast asleep. Lein couldn’t breathe for a moment he was so overwhelmed by the gesture. He didn’t care if it was an accident; he didn’t care if Argis had no idea he’d done it, or whether Lein himself had reached out for him in his dreams. What made his heartbeat thud in his throat was the fact that Argis was holding him, not the other way around.

Right then, as the unease that had woken him faded from his consciousness, that touch seemed the only thing anchoring him to the rocky hills of Skyrim, and he clung to Argis. He clung to him as sleep reached up for him a while later, letting the tingling warmth of the man’s hand guide him into a deep, and astonishingly peaceful sleep.

Chapter Six 

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[shallxt]

💜💙 !

💙- A sad memory that makes them cry

💜- A memory about one of their loved ones, happy or sad

A fragment of a forgotten memory. 

“Why are you still so weak, Shallot?

He was laying on the dirt. One again, the loser in another sparring match. He looks up, seeing his identical reflection looking down on him with a confident smirk. He was holding his hand down to him

The young Saiyan takes it and his pulled up by his brother. “Damn it..” He mutters, gritted his teeth and jerking his hand back. Frustration is bubbling in the back of his throat.

Yes, why? Why was he still falling behind him? He was the starry-eyed, energetic one. Yet he was always failing to overcome his brother in combat, even in the friendliest of terms. 

“Come on, let’s get back home. Supper should be on soon..” He turns his head in the direction of their family home. There wasn’t much time left for them there after all, by the time after the harvest the pair would be journeying off to the Capital for their rite of joining the military as warriors.

“I’ll...catch up with you. I need to clear my head..”

He wanders off in the opposite direction. He had to go where he could be alone and process this failure. To that special spot, only known to both brothers. A tree, scratched and broken apart by years of scrappy young boys climbing and playing on it. 

Sitting in the highest branch, he watches the sunset. He could feel it in his bones, the days of their youth would be behind them soon. He was excited, yes, of course! This was his idea and he was one of the most passionate members of their household of finally leave their humble farmlands and travel to the Capital to finally make something of himself. But how could he be so excited if he was going to remain so...unremarkable. So weak and under performing to his expectations. 

“Are you going to mope all night?” Taken by surprise and nearly falling out of the tree, the young Saiyan is greeted by the sudden appearance from below of his twin. “Mother said to come get you before supper gets cold. What’re you doing?”

He scowled, like an irritated primate perches himself on the thick tree branch and leers down at his sibling. 

“...Just thinking..”

“You think?”

“Shut up!”

His brother sighs, floating up to where his brother sat and leaned against the trunk of the tree. “It’s alright to be frustrated. I’d be if I was so weak--”

“You don’t have to say it like that! If this is your way to make me feel better then it sucks.”

He laughs, “I’m sorry. This kind of stuff is not my strong suit. But, what I’m trying to say is you will get stronger. You’re one of the hardest working guys I know. And I can’t wait for the day that we’re able to have an amazing fight as equals.”

“And I can’t wait for the day I finally get to kick your butt. Seeing you eat dirt, now that’ll be satisfying.”

“If the Gods will it, then it shall be so.”

He narrows his eyes at his twin, “Again with that crap? You’ve been listening to the elders too much. Those geezers are senile.”

“Is it so wrong to have something to believe in? Especially in this world of ours with conflict everyday. It gets tiresome after a while, hearing and seeing the aftermath of these idiotic wars. Those blind, war-hungry fools...There’s no balance! No matter how old King Sadala tries to force peace. It’s not the Saiyan way. There’s no balance, no equilibrium of power.”

“Then, when we’re elite soldiers in the army, let’s work on bringing peace and order to Sadala. I’ll watch your back if you watch mine.” He offers a hand to his brother.

He smirks, firmly grasping his brother’s hand.

“It’s a promise...”

[thisislizheather]

Navigating November 2020

Wonderful, another month has come and gone. It’s hard to tell when I’m in a bad mood these days. I feel like all of my moods are sprinkled with bits of sadness since it’s been such a rough year on everyone. It seems hard to be hopeful and optimistic for the coming months because of everything that has gone on already, but I think I’ll continue on with my internal mantra of “fake it ‘til you make it” - that’s healthy, right? In any case, here’s what happened last month:

I usually don’t mention the things that I don’t do, but this one is notable: I didn’t have the Thanksgiving croissant from Milk Bar this year (because I’m in Canada at the moment). So this is really just a reminder to myself to go hog-wild on them next November.

I can’t remember if I’ve mentioned them before, but the ready-made roast beef sandwiches at San Remo’s in Etobicoke? A PERFECT SANDWICH.

I rewatched the original (better) Jumanji and goddamit what a great movie. How did I forget what a perfect movie that was? Miss Robin Williams so much. Which reminds me: I gotta rewatch Jack soon (Coppola’s greatest movie, in my humble opinion). Haven’t seen that one in ages.

Some thoughts on how to have a less expensive Christmas.

Love the new “Oat Milk Latte” nail polish colour at Urban Outfitters. Something about a boring neutral has been really turning me on lately.

The best new hand lotion I’ve used in a long time: this Kiehl’s Hand Salve. I put it on once in the morning and once before bed and it’s crazy how soft it makes them, even if you wash your hands numerous times a day (which, god, I hope you’re doing).

I know that I tend to live in the past at times, but are you ever needing to print some photos fast and don’t know where to get it done? Years ago, they had machines at Shoppers and then they disappeared. And I just discovered that Staples has those print-right-now machines! It takes seconds to print from your phone and it’s crazy cheap. I think you can only get 4 x 6 in size, but still. That’s great!

I’ll always love Cobs Bread (thanks to Marla years ago for introducing me) but I just tried their garlic focaccia and my god. Heavenly. It also makes a great base for any kind of at-home grilled cheese or even an at-home garlic bread using garlic butter.

So I tried the Popeye’s chicken sandwich that people were stabbing each other for and… I fully understand the murdering mentality. It’s an incredible chicken sandwich. I was expecting not to understand the hype, but here I stand before you, four chicken sandwiches deep.

I’ve been consistently using the Luna Night Oil from Sunday Riley (a small version that came with a gift set) and I think it’s really working well. My skin looks amazing in the morning after each use. So I might bite the bullet and buy the full size when I run out.

Just so sad to see Alex Trebek pass away. Favourite clip, followed by second favourite clip.

I simply cannot stop ordering the vegetable fried rice from Fortune Dragon in Mississauga. Can’t and WON’T.

I had such a terrible experience using Skip The Dishes the other night (there was a problem with an order and the restaurant refused to fix the problem and I was on the phone with STD (hahah, can we all call them this from now on PLEASE) for over an hour, just disgusting). So now they’re banned in our house.

And speaking of annoying food experiences, Scaddabush got rid of the best sandwich on their menu. What. the. hell. It was a prosciutto cotto grilled cheese with Italian cured ham, caramelized onions, mozzarella, and fig jam on a focaccia bun and IT IS NO MORE. I did attempt to make it at home one night and it was actually really good, but still. Who wants to spend their evenings caramelizing onions for hours in the kitchen? Well, I do, for one. But regardless! Bad move, Scaddabush.

I came across these actually helpful, fast TikTok beauty tips.

Excited to visit this new food hall in Long Island City one day.

Love these two new Tierra Whack songs.

I love hearing these kinds of butterfly effect stories, always.

This whole listicle made me laugh.

How on earth can someone build a roller coaster in their backyard? People continue to impress me. This is amazing.

It’s pure and complete trash that chihuahuas never win dog shows. 

Look at this beauty from The National Dog Show.

Considering this beautiful palette for purchase even though I have plans to go nowhere, every night, for the rest of time.

I made these fondant potatoes and they were good! Love a new way to cook a potato.

I watched Coneheads for the first time and it was a surprisingly fun movie. It also happens to be the ultimate pro-immigration movie. Loved it.

I watched the Fresh Prince reunion and it was good! It was nice to see Nicky.

If you’re looking for a dog groomer in Mississauga, I can’t say enough good things about You Lucky Dog Grooming. They cut Baby Dog’s nails perfectly for $10 and it took less than five minutes. They were so gentle and caring, definitely only gonna go here from now on.

There were a few massive holes in the ceiling in my parents basement (an estimate said it would be $1000 to fix) so I went to Home Depot, got the supplies and did it myself. This is something I would never even want to do, let alone actually do, so the fact that it’s fixed now is insane. Here's what it looked like.

Above Photo: This whole job cost $17 from Home Depot. Nothing is impossible.

I made my niece Layla watch Sleeping With The Enemy and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button for the first time and I think she liked both, which obviously I love. Love making people I love watch things I love.

Absolutely in love with this song. And this one, too.

So I got fake nails. Here they are.

Yes, I love them. Yes, they look perfect every single day and that’s amazing. But no one tells you the cons, so let me tell you what they are.

Pressing buttons is an annoyance. The buttons of debit machines especially (I’ve incorrectly put in my pin about three times so far), but also remote controls and car radio dials.

Peeling onions or garlic. Or cutting anything on a cutting board in the kitchen, basically.

You know after a shower when you towel off the wet parts of the inside of your ears? Can’t be done.

All zippers and buttons add at least five minutes to your life.

Look, I’m not an animal but sometimes your nose needs a little cleaning when a tissue ain’t gonna cut it. That being said, it is IMPOSSIBLE to pick your nose with these.

Typing at your regular speed.

Peeling clementines is simply out of the question (which is annoying because they’re so in season right now).

Putting on and taking off necklaces.

And most of all, yes you can still scratch parts of your body, but it’s an unfulfilling scratch. These nails aren’t as sharp as my real ones, so the scratch is lackluster.

That being said, I do love them. I’m not sure if I’ll get them again, but they’re beautiful and I can definitely see the appeal.

I watched a few episodes of Somebody Feed Phil with my brother Robbie and it’s a pretty cute show. I only watched the New York, New Orleans, Venice & San Francisco episodes, but I’m sure I’ll watch the rest soon. I think I liked it because the host really lets the guests be the charming, endearing ones, and most TV hosts aren’t very good at that.

So since we missed both Thanksgivings this year, we picked a random day to do our turkey dinner and this year I did the rub for the bird (Mom handled all the gross stuff) and it came out amazing! Also made my favourite salad dressing (love a shallot in a dressing), this perfect cranberry sauce and best garlic bread. And instead of a whole pie, we just got mini pumpkin tarts from Whole Foods. The next day, I finally made the moist maker sandwich (from Friends) and it turned out really well.

Best tweets of the month can be found over here.

Some things that I’m looking forward to this month: watching the new season of Big Mouth, doing the Polar Drive experience, there have been only two snowstorms so far and I can’t wait for more to come, and I’ve already started baking the chocolate chip Nutella cookies that I love to make this time of year but I want to try something new as well so I’m thinking about giving these ones a try. Christmas will of course be different this year, it’s looking like it’ll be me, my parents (since I’ve been staying here since October), Nathan & Baby Dog on Christmas morning, which actually seems like it might be kind of intimate and nice. It’ll feel wrong in certain ways because I love having my entire family here, but I’m going to try and make the most of it.

If you’ve got any interest in reading last month’s roundup, you can see what went down in October over here.

[hortascountrysidenotes]

Wondering

A touch of spring has arrived and despite a regular light night time frost, the days have been noticeably warmer and the new shoots are clearly visible. Plants and trees everywhere are showing those exciting pin pricks of green - I always think this is especially beautiful on dogwood and willow.  The birds are really starting to kick off now, with the new season’s male blackbirds taking up their positions at dawn and dusk.  The pied wagtail has returned - no doubt to nest as usual under the solar panels on the garage roof!

The skylarks over two or three fields surrounding Brisley Common are providing the most phenomenal cheer at a time when the world has yet again been propelled into chaos.  When I walk the lanes and tracks with the girls I cant help wondering about the birds and wildlife in Ukraine - many urban birds displaced by terrible human actions and animals, many of them domesticated, frightened and probably now homeless and even ownerless.  Yet to hear the skylarks and see them soar up into a blue Norfolk sky, still gives one hope that despite all our terrible doings, the natural world still finds a way to survive.

Despite all the worry, succour can be found working the land - despite the sadness of losing Dan temporarily, with the wonderful help that has come to the rescue, the garden is looking absolutely fabulous.  His absence has spurred me on to do more myself and I have found myself doing little jobs that I have been looking at for a couple of years or more!  Jane and I re did the little troughs for alpines on Wednesday with some new saxifrages and Lithodora.  Simon pollarded the Salix alba Britzensis around the pond so now I have the fresh withies to make good the sweet pea wigwams.  The removal of the dear old topiary box snail in February meant that an old broken terracotta pot which the snail sort of curled around has been removed and this leaves a nice gap for a soon to arrive Libertia grandiflora.  We still have the dogwoods along the pond and ditch banks to prune hard and this year we must take some cuttings.

Jane and I also split up and potted up several items for a Plant Stall in May - masses of Geranium phaeum Samobor which always sells well, Nepeta Walkers Low which needed reducing - another job I had been putting off - Hemerocallis Bella Lugosi, Asters unknown but pretty and next week we shall turn our attention to potting up 3 different species of Brunnera, several young Helleborus and another Hemerocallis Stoke Poges.   I am happy to leave her in charge of taking cuttings of the scented pelargoniums as well - also good sellers.

About to sow some beetroot and chard in plugs, broad beans now in the cold frames and the garlic and shallots are now showing the first green shoot.  I have 30 Lavandula Silver Sands waiting to be planted around the bed outside the greenhouse where again all the box was removed in February.  I have ordered some extra pea shingle to sweep back underneath them which will hide the unsightly black membrane - another thing I had been meaning to do - get some more of that for one or two bare patches!  The potatoes are sitting on the spare room windowsill and I think can go in next week.  Cosmos seedlings are showing and the sweet peas looking good enough to go into the cold frame as soon as the lavender is out.

Poor Bertha is still suffering from a badly cut front pad so a lot of Vetwrap, clingfilm and natty sock systems are in play - it is always such a nuisance but we are now on the way to recovery and I hope by the end of next week she will be fully repaired.  The others are feeling bored as the walks are short and carefully selected to avoid too much wet or spiky terrain such as stubble!  

I have started to do some drawing and painting again - it is soothing in times of trouble and stops one endlessly looking at news items.