#a little late because I had horrific food poisoning yesterday

[serickswrites]

Do You Trust Me?

Warnings: threat of death, violence, captivity, restraints, escape

Hero tried to pry the power suppression cuffs off their wrists. They had fallen for Supervillain's trap so easily. They cursed as the cuffs remained tight on their wrists.

A scraping sound outside their cell had Hero whirling round, fearful that Supervillain had come to make good on their promise to beat them to death. They raised their fists as they growled, "Come to finish me off?"

Villain's face appeared in the doorway. "No," they whispered back, "I've come to get you out of here."

Hero frowned. Surely this had to be a trapped. "Why, so you can just toy with me until your master is ready to kill me?"

Villain opened the door. "No, do you think so poorly of me?"

"Yes."

Villain held out their hand. "I'm here to rescue you, Hero. I am with Supervillain because..." their voice trailed off. "That's not relevant. Point is, I'm here to set you free. You weren't meant to be caught."

Hero stared at Villain's hand. This had to be a trap. "Do you trust me?" Villain said as they inched closer.

"No," Hero said uncertainly.

Villain sighed. "Well, I'm sorry about this then." They grabbed Hero's hand and teleported the two of them out of the cell.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@pepeniascat

[floralseokjin]

PBN drabble; A surprise

warnings; smidgen of angst, fluff!!  word count; 1.6k

author’s note; i know i’ve missed a lot of the in between, and i will try to catch up on those drabbles at a later date, but the need to write this was too much. it’s been an idea of mine for ages, finally had to share!! please enjoy the surprise 😘

5:15. 

Yoongi would be home any minute now. Your gut turned, a new kind of sick twisting your insides. For the past four days you’d felt awful. Throwing up a handful of times too. Yoongi was hellbent it was the steak you’d eaten on the weekend. You weren’t so sure. The restaurant you’d had it from was your favourite. You always ate there. 

No. This was a different kind of sick. You’d had food poisoning before, it was horrific. It wasn’t stomach flu either. Yoongi was fine, so it wasn’t catching. This was different. More of a constant nausea. It reminded you of carsickness. You used to suffer with that a lot when you were kid. 

You hadn’t thought much of it at first, maybe you were just tired or something, under the weather, but then Seulgi and her logic had suggested something yesterday afternoon. Maybe you were pregnant. Of course she’s been joking around, but you couldn’t shake it. What if you were?

You’d stopped taking the pill two months ago, wanting to try another form of contraception after giving your body a few months break. You’d been told your periods could be irregular to start off with, so while the first had come on time, you hadn’t thought much of the second one being late. Some of the signs had been there. Bloating, painful boobs, tiredness... just no actual period. A quick google search told you they were also early signs of pregnancy. Impossible. Surely? You’d been using a condom every single time. Although maybe they weren’t the most effective. What if one had split without you both realising? 

This morning Yoongi had already left for work by the time you’d woken up, still feeling rough. Your heart had sunk. There was only one thing left to do. Just to put your mind at ease. You needed to take a pregnancy test. Calling out of work (for the third day in a row), you’d gotten showered quickly, making the short walk to the drugstore in record time. You were being stupid, you kept telling yourself. You repeated it over and over again as you walked home. Over and over again as you rushed to the bathroom and peed on the stupid stick. There was no way you were pregnant. There couldn’t be. 

Could there? 

Waiting those three minutes for the results were the most nerve-racking (and longest) of your life, but nothing could prepare you once you saw those two pink lines. It was like your world had stopped. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. You immediately threw up. Whether it be from actual morning sickness, shock or panic. All three probably. 

You weren’t ready to have a baby, surely? Yes, you and Yoongi spoke about it from time to time, but it was mostly done in jest. You loved one another but that didn’t mean you were all set to have a baby. You’d been together 4 years, living together for just over one. What would he say? What would you even tell him?! 

You spent the rest of the day numb. Curled up on the sofa, the television playing to itself. You wanted to call your mom, you wanted to tell Seulgi, but you knew Yoongi should be the first to know. So alone, your thoughts orbited around all your anxieties. 

Hearing his keys in the front door, a fresh wave of nausea turned your gut. You heard him in the entry way, kicking his shoes off, his keys landing in the bowl on the little side table you’d both picked out. You’d made a home for yourselves so easily, the thought comforted you for a quick second, but then you saw his face come into view, stood in the doorway. 

“Hey,” he greeted softly, a puzzled look on his face. “I thought you were at work.�� 

“I called out.” Your voice was hoarse, you hadn’t used it in a few hours. 

As you cleared your throat, Yoongi’s frown deepened. “Are you still feeling sick?” He rushed over, taking a seat next to you, an arm wrapping around your shoulders. 

You leaned your head against him, letting your eyes flutter closed. Comforted by his warmth, his smell. Maybe this whole thing wasn’t so bad. You were in this with the man you trusted most in this world. The man you loved so fricking much. He loved you too. Always had. 

“It was that steak from Bruno’s, I’m telling you.” He was adamant, stroking a hand through your hair, fingers combing through the tangles. You’d been so out of it today you hadn’t even brushed it. “We should call them up, get our money back.” 

You pressed your face into his warmth, taking one last moment for yourself before you moved, left him, creating a distance between your bodies. “It wasn’t the steak.” 

You could hear the concern in his voice when he said your name. “What’s wrong?”

You shoved a hand in your hoody pocket, fist clenching around a stick of plastic, psyching yourself up. Beside you, Yoongi rubbed your back, getting more and more worried. He chuckled awkwardly. “Come on, babe, you’re scaring me.” 

You didn’t want to scare him. You found your voice, removing the test from your pocket as you spoke. “I’m feeling sick because I’m pregnant.” 

Saying the words out loud for the first time felt weird. Yoongi stiffened up beside you, eyes wide as he stared at the test in your hand. Hesitantly he took it from you, bringing it closer. You didn’t miss the way his fingers trembled. 

“What are we going to do, Yoongi?” Your voice was a whisper. “I don’t understand how it happened. We always use protection.” 

You didn’t think he heard you, still staring at the stick. “You’re pregnant?” You nodded as he finally tore his eyes away and looked at you. You watched the beginnings of smile twitch at his mouth. “We’re going to have a baby?” 

For a moment your chest felt lighter. “If you want to,” you heard yourself say. 

This time he broke out into gummy grin. Despite still looking and sounding dazed, he seemed...happy? Excited? “Of course I want to!” He exclaimed, in his own little world as he stared at the test again. 

He was holding it in both hands now, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. “You’re pregnant,” he pretty much awed. Your heart swelled. After feeling heavy all day it was  a very much welcomed improvement. 

“Wait–” He turned his head, suddenly realising something. “Do you want to?” Your earlier behaviour had only just dawned on him, now his forehead creased with fresh concern. 

“I’m in shock.” You answered honestly. “We didn’t plan for it. I thought maybe you’d...” You petered out. Why had you been so worried to tell him again? Taking his arm, you smiled. It felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. “I want to too.” 

Suddenly you found yourself embraced in his warmth, a bear hug of sorts, Yoongi’s arms squeezing you tight. You felt his lips at your crown and closed your eyes, gripping his sweatshirt, safe and sound. 

“Shit. We’re having a baby?!” He laughed in amazement, over your shoulder. He was still clutching the test. 

“I’m fairly certain.” You chuckled, a hand rooting around inside your hoody again. “I took three tests.” In a bid to be sure, you’d driven to a drugstore ten minutes away. All three had given you the same result. You were definitely pregnant. 

Yoongi broke away, laughing at what he’d just heard, eager to see the evidence. He held them all, gazing at each line and cross and even the word ‘pregnant’ in small black font. “Fuck. How did you piss so much?” 

The laughter bubbled from your throat. Of course it did. He had that ability. No matter the situation he could always get you laughing. You were even more thankful in this moment. 

“Anxiety.” (Although, you had read it was an early symptom of pregnancy too – peeing a lot.) 

Despite your laughter, a couple of tears trickled down your cheeks. Yoongi caught them immediately. “Hey, don’t cry,” he murmured, dropping the tests in his lap to reach for your face and kiss them away. 

“They’re not sad tears,” you reassured. You hadn’t cried all day but seeing Yoongi so happy was what got you in the end. 

His eyes were still filled with concern though, pushing the hair out of your face, searching for something in your eyes.. “Were you worried about telling me?” 

“I don’t know why,” you confirmed. It seemed silly now. All your worries seemed pointless. Why had you been so scared at the prospect of raising a child? Of course you could do it. Especially with Yoongi at your side. 

Yoongi understood you. He rubbed your upper back. “I know it’s a shock but it’s not the end of the world.” You smiled thankfully, letting his words soothe you. “In fact, you could say it’s the beginning of the world.” His happy little grin got you, giggling at his lame ass line. 

He leaned in, rubbing his nose with yours. “Our world.” You cupped his face as he pressed a kiss to your mouth, letting your eyes close briefly before he pulled away. “I love you,” he sang softly. 

His eyes were twinkling, the happiness he felt obvious. “I love you too,” you sang right back. 

Chuckling under his breath he was still amazed. “We made a baby.” 

Running your fingers through his dark hair, you grinned and confirmed. “We made a baby.”

[possiblypeachy]

tea & schemes. (6)

―; summary: welcome distractions can be found in the library-- besides the books, of course.

―; pairing: jacob frye x ofc

―; word count: 4.5k

―; warnings: none(?).

―; A/N: i... love them... a lot. writing this is like playing with little dolls and making them hold hands n stuff except!! i’m a baby that has an awareness of the healthy progression of a relationship and so i keep them just out of reach of each other to intensify the pining!! how splendid and good of me!!!! :))

anyway, please do enjoy!! (also, i made a pinterest board for this so hmu if you want me to send you the link bc it’s practically an amalgamation of pictures that make me happy)

―; part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

― ❊ ―

“Freddy?”

Florence took the hat she had been wearing and placed it on the table beside the door, haste dictating each of her movements. From placing cutlery on the dining table, Lissie gave her a sidewards glance, an eyebrow quirking upwards, but said nothing yet; if there was to be a quarrel, they could get it all out first before registered pacifier, Felicity Marlowe, would step in.

“Freddy?” For a young woman raised from birth to be delicate and heavenly, Florence sure did have a set of lungs on her. If Frederick hadn’t heard her shouting from downstairs yet, he might as well have been deaf. Even Lissie flinched back at her volume.

Floorboards creaked above them. Lissie stifled a laugh when a loud sigh could be heard at the top of the stairs. When Freddy’s face finally emerged from behind the corner, practically dragging himself down the stairs, she had to leave the room, lest she further irritate the man.

“You’re doing an excellent job of annoying the neighbours, my dear sister.” He observed, trudging toward the dining table to take a seat. Florence did the same, taking a spot right in front of him. After flattening and smoothing her skirts down, she leant forward on the table, hands clasped together just before her bowl. Upon noticing the seriousness in her posture, a worry began to grow within him. He gave a quick glance down to her interlocked fingers and noticed a slip of white between the gaps. “What’s this about?”

The fingers of Florence’s right hand dipped behind those of the left and emerged with a piece of paper-- evidence of her escapades. She slid it across the table toward her brother. “I met a lovely man in the library today; he was all charm and smiles. He even quoted some of Dickens’ work to woo me.”

Brows pulled downwards, Freddy took the slip of paper though had yet to look at it. “And, you think this is a world-ending problem why? Should he have quoted Shakespeare instead?”

She rolled her eyes and thrusted her still interlocked hand toward the note. “Read the bloody note, Fredd--”

“Hey! Elbows off the table.” Lissie, who had adopted a particularly maternal tone, scolded as she waddled over with the steaming pot of stew. It landed with a jarring thump! down onto the table beside them both. A tea towel hit Florence’s arm and she yelped, eyes meeting the blue of Lissie’s. “You should know this, lovely.”

Florence gestured between herself and Freddy. “He and I have something important to discuss; I think I should be allowed to put my elbows wherever I please, mother.”

Lissie chortled at her immaturity. “Your elbows are your own until food appears on this table. As soon as that happens, I’m afraid that I--”

“Revenge?” Both women stopped in their bickering to look at Freddy, who’s gaze dragged from the paper to his sister. His expression contorted, lips parted and brows knitted together as if speechless. “What does that mean, Florrie? What’s the man’s name?”

Lissie let out a small sigh when Florence leant toward her brother, elbows on the table, but began to spoon out the stew anyway, leaving the siblings to speak without her pestering.

“Willard Molyneux-Herbert.” The name rolled off of her tongue like a thick poison. “Ring any bells?”

She could see Freddy visibly dragging himself through his memories, gaze focused over her shoulder and into the past. Florence began to idly stir the stew with a spoon when her brother, unconvinced of his own mind’s capability, pointed into nothing. “I recall a… Alan Molyneux-Herbert. I brought him in a few months ago after his horrific surgical practices were presented to my people.”

Despite the unfortunate predicament she was in, that fire flickered to life in Florence’s eyes. Freddy suppressed a sigh upon noticing it. “He could be his older brother.” She got up on her feet to lean further toward her brother, scanning over as much of the note as she could so she could point to the line that backed up her theory. “See? They must’ve been close-- or business partners of some kind.”

He gave a hum, rolling the corner of the paper as he pondered. Then, he placed it to one side, prompting Florence to sit back down, and picked up his spoon. “Did he say anything… strange to you?”

“Besides being far too forward?” One of her eyebrows quirked upwards and Freddy grimaced, taking to eating a spoonful of his meal rather than replying. “He asked that I meet him again in the library tomorrow.”

After a few moments of quiet, his lips drew into a tight line. “I think you should.”

Florence scoffed before spooning a chunk of beef into her mouth. She covered her lips with the back of her hand as she spoke. “No objections to me doing the dirty work this time, brother dearest?”

Knowing that she’d hit back with something like that, he groaned. “It’s a public library; he can’t try to do anything in there besides torment you with his flirting.” He wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin and gestured to her. “I’m certain, after your scuffle with Mister Fullmore, you can handle yourself around one man. If familial similarities tell me anything, I doubt this Willard is the largest bloke either.” Florence hummed, pointing her spoon at Freddy to confirm his point. “Besides, I can hardly take your place can I?”

She gave a small laugh. “I think I’d enjoy seeing you try.”

“I’m sure you would.” He replied with a smile-- the kind that was accompanied by a fond shake of the head.

They ate quietly for a while with only the grandfather clock on the other side of the room creating steady noise. Lissie pottered about between them as their bowls began to empty, cooing gently to Duncan who had hopped down the stairs to collect any scraps that fell onto the floor. When Freddy finally finished, he didn’t leave the table as usual and instead leant back in his chair, staring at his sister. She soon noticed this and dragged her gaze away from the remnants of stew in her bowl. Spoon still held close to her mouth, she prompted him with a raise of both brows.

He clasped his hands together and rested them against his stomach. “Mister Frye visited before you returned. He asked me to ‘apologise on his behalf for dashing off today’.” Freddy mirrored her raised brows, which hadn’t yet moved from their position. It was as though she was a rat caught in a larder.

Slowly, she raised herself up from her bowl, placing the spoon neatly onto the napkin at the side. “I was… on my way to the library and we ran into one another. He rushed away because--”

“I’ve known you since you came out of the womb, Florence; stop lying to me.” Frederick stopped her, rolling his eyes until they met hers again. She huffed but was given no time to defend herself. “It seemed like, from what he told me at the door, that he ran off without so much as a thought to you or your feelings--”

“He came to apologise--”

“-- and only had his sight on his… agenda for London. You shouldn’t want to spend all of your time with a man who doesn’t consider your emotions, Florrie.”

Florence widened her eyes and shook her head, like her brother was stupid and she was drawing attention to it. “I’m not heartbroken, Freddy; Mister Frye can do as he pleases. I’m not going to bloody marry the man.”

Frederick breathed out a laugh. “That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said in weeks.” Seemingly satiated with her answer, he stood from his chair and patted down his waistcoat and the lap of his trousers. He partly did this to avoid Florence’s scalding stare, her jaw clenched in an attempt to keep back a smile of disbelief. With that done, he turned and made his way to the stairs, presumably retiring for the evening before his sister could bite back with anything too venomous.

Florence sighed, slumping back in her chair so Lissie could collect her bowl and cutlery.

Well, at least tomorrow would be interesting.

---

Florence found Willard sat at the same table the next day. Now, she was somewhat late, though that was mostly due to the fact that she had been standing in the entryway wiping sweat from her hands for a good amount of time. Lying and acting to appease someone you know is one thing but it gets a lot scarier when you’re dealing with a man who, in a few scrawled words and a look or two, had made himself seem very… nasty.

For someone who had been sat, alone, in a library for goodness only knows how long, Willard didn’t seem to have all too great of an interest in any of the hundreds of books on offer. Instead, he played with his thumbs, strands of golden hair tumbling onto his forehead. It was stupid, Florence thought as she approached him, but she still couldn’t possibly bring herself to deny the fact that Willard was a terribly beautiful man.

When a chair scraped across the wooden floor in front of him, his head snapped upwards. For a moment, he looked almost innocent: green eyes wide and lips parted just enough for Florence’s eyes to linger on them. However, upon taking in her blush-coloured dress and the curls in her hair, that conniving twist appeared on his lips and she instinctively looked away.

“Dear lady,” he began, voice rumbling like the beginnings of a roar, “I thought it impossible that you look more beautiful than yesterday but it appears you have proven me wrong.”

Florence, in an effort to not be sucked into the whirling green of his eyes, rubbed her nose with a finger and acted like she was picking something from the skirt of her dress. “You flatter me, Mister Molyneux-Herbert.”

She sensed that he’d placed his upturned hand on the table in front of her and she finally dragged her gaze to him. His palm begged for her own. “Please, Miss Abberline, call me Willard.”

Florence smiled-- a courteous gesture though not at all genuine; it seemed to satisfy him enough. Her fingers relished in the cool wood of the table before taking their place in his hand. “If that’s the case, you may call me Florence.”

Like yesterday, he placed a lingering kiss on the back of her hand. She allowed her gaze to flicker away, seemingly flustered under the attention, her lips curling into a coy smile.

This was terrible. Horrendous. A nightmare. Florence delighted in her skill of manipulation but had never had to act so… submissive before. It seemed that Willard only held that sweet glint in his eyes when she shied away from him-- when she acted petite and enamoured by male attention. It made her want to tug her hand away and--

A cough sounded behind her and she jolted, pulling her hand away from Willard in the process. While not exactly how she had planned getting away from him, she was still grateful that it had worked. As Florence turned in her seat, ready to give the disturbance a small, thankful smile, she met a pair of hazel eyes.

Wait. She knew those eyes.

Her vision finally focused on the rest of the face.

Jacob.

Half of her said to turn around as to not make Willard suspicious of anything. The other half declared that if she simply spun around that it would look strange too. So, Florence faced halfway between them both, gaze able to dart between the pair. Though, with how peeved Willard looked, she didn’t particularly want to glance in his direction.

“Who are you? Can’t you tell that the lady and I are busy?”

So, he was an emotionally volatile man too. Great.

When Florence looked to Jacob, awaiting his response, he caught her eyes, brows twitching just enough for her to assume he was quite taken aback by Willard. “The name’s Jacob Frye, sir. I’m here to collect Miss Abberline; her brother says it’s urgent.”

A slight panic struck Florence.

What did Freddy need? Had something gone wrong? Was he hurt?

Wide eyes flickered over to Willard, her hands already arranging her skirts to make it easier for her to stand. There was a strange glint in his gaze. He was focused on Jacob; his sudden hostility had quietened. Much to her surprise, Willard didn’t open his mouth to speak again, instead leaving the conversation open to her.

“Why? What does he need?” Florence rose from her seat, eyes now trained onto Jacob. “He hadn’t said about something ‘urgent’ this morning.”

Jacob shrugged, giving an unknowing frown. “He didn’t tell me anything else-- only requested that you get back home as soon as you can.”

A hand to her forehead, she let out a heavy sigh. “Willard,” She began; Jacob seemed to be quite intent on listening in on the exchange, “I must cut our meeting short. I am beyond sorry but… Frederick never usually calls on me in such a manner so it must be important.”

“I can accompany you, dear lady. My carriage and driver should be nearby.” Willard tensed to stand but Jacob held out a hand. The blond slowly lowered himself once again. Florence could feel rage ebbing off of him-- likely thanks to being pushed about by a man of a lower class.

“Sergeant Abberline asked only for her. I can get her home safely, Will.” Willard visibly bristled and Florence could’ve sworn that she could see the beginnings of a smile playing at Jacob’s lips. “Now,” Jacob held out a hand, which Florence took, to help her out of the alcove, “if you don’t mind, the lady and I should be off.”

With that, he swept his arm in the direction of the exit-- a dramatic gesture that made Florence suppress a smile-- and the two of them left the building. She didn’t dare to even look back at Willard, lest he kill her with his burning stare alone.

When the thunder of carriages upon stone and the chatter of people returned to her senses, Florence turned to Jacob, who was still leading her along. A hand came to his arm, half to get his attention and half to give her the leverage to walk alongside him. “Right, Jacob, what’s the matter with Freddy? If he’s in the hospital for something, I swear--”

“Nothing’s the matter.”

“-- I will get my hands on-- wait. What?” Florence stopped on the pavement, expression crumpled with confusion. “What do you mean ‘nothing’s the matter’?”

Jacob, having realised that Florence had paused, reeled backwards to address her. There was a grin on his face that had an undertone of caution; he was unsure if he had made a mistake. What with the look of annoyed bewilderment painted across her features-- brows drawn together, lips parted, nose scrunched up-- it was expected for Jacob to have a genuine sense of worry settle in his stomach.

“I mean that you looked terribly uncomfortable in there and I thought, being the saint to society that I am--” Florence’s jaw shifted to one side slightly, her hands on her hips, in an attempt to keep a relenting smile from tugging at her lips. He was insufferable. “-- that I would be doing you a favour by stealing you away.” His eyes, having been thrown around dramatically while he was speaking, drifted hopefully back to her. One of his brows raised and his lips curled into an apologetic smile.

Florence said nothing.

Jacob stayed frozen in that position for a few moments more before slumping, sighing lightly. “I’m sorry for worrying you.” He held a hand out toward her, beckoning. “I’ll make it up to you with a surprise-- I promise.”

She looked between his hand and his face, then finally grinned. Jacob’s shoulders visibly relaxed and it only made her laugh, sweeping gleefully toward him. “Seems like I worried you there. Care about my feelings do we, dear Jacob? My brother was concerned that you didn’t.” Rather than taking his hand, she hooked her arm around his, leveraging herself to his side.

“You are a menace, Flor.” His smile said otherwise, however.

“Only to you.”

They locked eyes for a moment, smiles softening into something different altogether. Florence could suddenly feel her heart in her ears. There was that heaviness of breath in her chest-- a choking swell of her feelings.

No. No. Not again.

As though struck by lightning, her gaze darted away, blinking a few times like she was resetting herself. “Where might this surprise be then, Jacob?” Florence looked back to him, though she appeared to have steeled herself somewhat. When she noticed the light of concern in his eyes, a light squeeze came to his bicep alongside a smile.

Deciding against saying anything about the sudden change in her demeanour, he began to walk them both along the street. “Well, I recently met a bloke by the name of Robert Topping. Strange man, with an even stranger sense of fashion--”

“Yes, because you are the pinnacle of that area.” Her other arm moved around to tug at his untucked shirt and he batted her away, chuckling.

“You’ll see the man soon and you’ll be eating your own words, dear Flor.” Jacob shook his head, as if he were recalling Robert’s dress sense and shivering at it.

“Why? What does this Topping fellow have to do with where we’re going?”

“Will you let me speak without interrupting?”

Florence huffed out a laugh, gesturing in a forward motion with her hand. “Go ahead; I’ll try not to interject.”

Jacob nodded a ‘thank you’ as he tugged her down a backstreet, glancing from place to place to ensure he was going the right way. “Well, Topping is a bookie for a variety of events but my personal favourite are the fights. So, I thought I might bring you along to a fight club to watch a few matches-- get invigorated, you know?”

“Oh, I’ve heard of these fight clubs. Freddy often complains about them.” Florence mentioned. “I suppose he just doesn’t understand why people would fight against each other for fun.”

Jacob raised a brow. “You’ve heard of them before?”

“Why does that surprise you?” Florence glanced up at him, confused.

He paused for a moment, then shrugged. “I’m not sure, I just supposed there’d been a rule surrounding the secrecy of fight clubs or something.”

Now far too wound up in this string of their own thoughts, the pair walked in silence for a short time. Once again, Jacob seemed to have a knack for leading Florence down alleyways that she didn’t even know existed. He often gave a nod or a wave to people dressed in green-- his ‘rooks’, she remembered-- which she began to do as well, if only to seem more like a friend of Jacob’s than anything else; she supposed she didn’t want to get the reputation of ‘that bird that Jacob buys’. It appeared as though her upbringing-- filled with reminders to remain a respectable woman-- had stuck in some ways more than others.

Jacob turned to her for a brief moment, mouth opened, but no words came. One of her brows tugged downwards. “What is it?”

He looked away again and breathed out a sigh through his nose. “I don’t mean to… intrude on your personal business but--”

“Willard?” The light-heartedness in her tone relaxed Jacob and a relieved smile curved his lips.

“Yes. I didn’t realise you had a gentleman suitor, hm?”

Florence grimaced and made a noise akin to “blergh”. “No, I wouldn’t count Willard as that, despite his trying.” Jacob raised a brow, urging her to elaborate. “The first words he said to me were a quote from one of your dear old friend Dickens’ novels. Then, he introduced himself as the--” she mimicked a man’s voice, “--’third son to the Earl of Carnarvon’.” She sighed, throwing her hand into the air. “I mean, how pompous can one man be?”

Jacob had been grinning the whole time, quite amused with her ranting. “So, I take it you’re not interested then, despite his beautiful blond locks?” He acted like he was flipping hair over his shoulder and she laughed, shaking her head.

“I most certainly am not interested-- mostly because he supposedly has some kind of grudge against my brother and wants revenge by means of me.” He felt her grip on his arm tighten somewhat and realised that, although her tone sounded fairly unfazed by the idea, Florence was really quite angry. “I don’t understand why all men interested in me have some kind of criminal inclination.”

Jacob, an assassin and criminal by trade, gave a slight laugh, raising his eyebrows and averting his gaze by glancing down a nearby backstreet. “They certainly do.”

Quiet fell between them once again but only because he was considering. He took the few moments in which they descended a set of stairs to weigh up his options.

With a certain degree of courage mustered, Jacob asked: “Have you ever been with someone, Flor? Like... romantically?” as normally as he could.

She didn’t seem to pick up on the riot in his mind but still frowned somewhat. “Yes. Well, sort of. I tend not to enjoy thinking of it.”

He furrowed his brows. “Why not?” A cheeky laugh slipped passed his lips and an elbow nudged into her side. “Was he a disaster in bed?”

A harsh squeeze came to his arm and, through a chuckle, he yelped at the pinch it caused. When he looked to her, she was glaring at him but a light of amusement danced through the gold in her eyes. “No, Jacob, I’ve never even--” she paused, glancing to the side, defeated. He grinned, infuriating her further. She continued, if only to stop him from saying anything else. “Thomas Langhorne is the terrible man who I used to love but he broke my heart and is now married to my eldest sister, Harriett.”

Jacob blinked a few times at the speed in which she said this, having to rewind her words in his head. “What? He’s married to who? I feel like there’s more to this-- if you’re willing to tell, of course.”

Florence sighed quietly. It was a tender topic still and merely scraping the surface of it made her want to pummel Thomas. Though, the look in Jacob’s eyes was overbearingly patient and that little voice in the back of her head convinced her that perhaps sharing the memory might have a relieving effect.

“When I was fifteen, I fell in love with the mayor’s son, Thomas Langhorne. It was the kind of young love you read in books, you know? There were butterflies and nights stolen away and ugh!” She groaned, brows forced together. Honestly, it almost looked as if Florence could throw up at the thought. “He promised to have my hand in marriage and young me, being foolish, fell hopelessly in love with Thomas. I never understood why we had to keep everything a secret, however.” Ah, here was the problem, Jacob suspected. He could almost feel her nails piercing through his coat with how angrily she held his arm. “I figured out that little conundrum when I took a trip to our cellar and found him…” Florence grimaced and took a breath to brace herself, “... inside my sister.”

“Bloody Hell.” Jacob hissed through his teeth, looking down at her in disbelief. Her vision seemed to be glazed with fury and didn’t notice the concern for her in his eyes.

“It turns out they loved each other and Thomas had used me to get to Harriet. I was simply the idiot who thought I was in love.” Florence, feeling heavy-hearted but altogether like a weight had been loosened from her shoulders, gave a bitter little laugh. The grip on his arm lessened. “So, I have decided to stay away from all matters romance until I absolutely must marry someone, lest I have all of society frown upon me.”

Jacob felt a pang of hurt somewhere-- not at her declaration to steer clear of love but at the mere fact that such a man could take a treasure like Florence and stand on her like he did. It was terrible, he thought, that a young woman, during the years in which they all dream of falling in love, had barred herself from doing just that because of the selfish desires of this Thomas bloke.

“I don’t think you should give up on love so easily, Flor.” He mentioned to her, gesturing for her to let go of his arm and walk behind him down a tight alleyway. “Besides, this Langhorne fellow doesn’t seem like the ideal man.” There was a pause, then Jacob huffed out a laugh. “How big was he?”

When they emerged from the alleyway, getting closer to the distant sounds of a crowd cheering, the light that finally hit Florence revealed a mightily confused expression. She had an inkling of what he meant but wanted confirmation. Her eyes narrowed. “How do you mean?”

Jacob gave an impish grin. “You know: the downstairs.” He waggled his eyebrows and Florence snorted.

“I called the ordeal a ‘little conundrum’ for a reason, dear Jacob.” Amusement bled back into her eyes and the way she was smiling told him that she was keeping back laughter.

“Well then, you should forget little Thom being your first love. Let your sister have him, eh?” The pair came to a door and the roaring crowd was most certainly behind it. Jacob swept an arm forward to encourage her to go in front of him before he revealed the arena. “Find another first-- one who actually knows what’s right there in front of him.”

Perhaps Jacob was right; Thomas didn’t deserve to have such an impact on her life. He was a rat of a man and Harriett could keep him. Florence would find someone far better: someone who could make her laugh, who would calm her anxieties, who would adventure with her, despite what everyone says. Yes. Yes. She at least deserved that.

“Plus, I’m certain the next bloke you find will have a much bigger--”

Florence thrust the doors open and the two of them drowned in the roar of the crowd, bells ringing and bookies begging for bets. Despite the noise, she could sense that Jacob was chuckling behind her.

What a dastardly man, she thought with a smile.

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What the latest research actually says (and doesn’t) about organic

Photo Credit: TumblingRun

Precise analysis of scientific articles isn’t always easy and almost never quick.  Today’s media has much to report on and respond to, and increasingly, corners get cut in taking the time to get the news out in the most accurate way. A new journal article published in Science Advances highlights many areas where organic agriculture excels: higher biodiversity, improved soil and water quality, greater profitability, and higher nutritional value.  But much of the current media coverage focuses less on the content of the paper and more on a few out of context quotes, and the guarded title of the article, “Many shades of gray—The context-dependent performance of organic agriculture”.

The actual language of the full article emphasizes the multitude of benefits of organic, while underscoring areas where more research is needed.  Several misleading media articles have been sensationalized and are headlining a phrase in the study stating that “organic agriculture cannot be the Holy Grail for our sustainable food security challenges.”  These reports miss the main point of the article, which can be summarized by another equally compelling quote from the researchers in the final section of the paper: “we conclude that organic agriculture offers many benefits and could be an important part of a suite of strategies to improve the sustainability and equity of our food system.”

We all have an incredible amount of information to absorb, and it’s critical that we get the most accurate facts in order to make the most informed choices in our daily lives. The Organic Center is here to help. The Center is a trusted, accurate, and in-depth resource for individuals interested in diving beyond the headlines and into the facts.

Let’s look now at what this latest research is really about. The Center has done a careful review of the work; here are the actual findings of the study:

Photo Credit: Janice Cullivan

Biodiversity

The study authors examine several impact areas of organic, and find that many show significant benefits when organic practices are employed.  When they look at biodiversity, for example, they state “the benefits of organic management for biodiversity of wildlife on farmland are clear, with a typical increase in organism abundance of 40 to 50% across different taxa.”

Soil Health

They find  that soil benefits from organic practices. They note that organic farms have higher organic carbon content, reduced soil erosion, higher soil health and fertility parameters, and higher soil fauna abundance.  The authors also tackle a common misconception about organic farming in comparison with conventional no-till farming, showing that the same proportion of organic farmers use reduced-tillage as conventional farmers.

Climate Change

The study explains that most organically managed crops put out lower N2O and total greenhouse gas emissions per unit area.  Organic is also more energy efficient (primarily because of the ban on synthetic fertilizers), and improves soil carbon sequestration.  However, the authors note more research is needed on the climate impacts of carbon sequestration, and that lower yields in organic can reduce these benefits when analyses are conducted on a per-yield-output basis.

Water Quality

Photo Credit: Faungg

Organic agriculture does not use synthetic pesticides, and typically employ integrated pest management in combination with materials that are less harmful to the environment, so can help prevent negative impacts on native species and preserve the quality of drinking water.

Nitrogen and phosphorus leaching is also an important aspect of water quality.  While the authors point out that “on average, N leaching per unit area in organic agriculture appears to be lower,” they go on to note that further research is needed, as variation in N runoff data is high.  They also call for more research examining the impact of organic management on phosphorus runoff, as there are a limited number of studies examining this issue.

Water Use

Because organic management results in soils better able to hold water and with higher water infiltration rates, the authors suggest that organic farming “can lead to higher yields and water use efficiency under drought and excessive rainfall conditions and to lower water limitation of organic yields.”

Farmer and Farmworker Livelihoods

The authors show organic farming is more profitable than conventional farming, because organic products receive a higher price premium, and production costs are similar between organic and conventional production.  Organic also uses techniques that can “provide more stable yields and to be more resilient to extreme weather events”, and the organic price premiums can help buffer against price volatility.  The authors also note organic can be especially beneficial for farmers in low-income countries because organic can help with “the organization of farmers in cooperatives, building of social networks, integration of traditional knowledge, providing training, and access to health and credit programs through the certifying and exporting agency.”

Unfortunately, when it comes to farm worker livelihoods, there is little research examining what role organic plays.  The authors note that currently organic regulations do not include labor guidelines.  While organic does tend to employ more individuals, more research is needed on the impact of organic practices on farm worker income.

Photo Credit: USDA

Farmer and farm worker health

The benefits of organic farming associated with farmer and farm worker health are highlighted in this study as “one of the most important advantages of organic management for farm workers.”  Synthetic pesticides are banned from use on organic farms, and therefore prevent pesticide poisoning, which is estimated to cause a million chronic diseases and deaths per year.

Consumer health

On average, studies examining organic crops show they have higher levels of secondary metabolites, vitamins, and mineral nutrients than their conventional counterparts. However, there is a large amount of variability among studies, and the authors say more research is needed in this area.  Organic also has consistent benefits to consumers in reducing dietary pesticide exposure.  The impact of these benefits is context dependent, however, and may be more important in low-income or developing countries.

Consumer access

Unfortunately, the same price premiums that benefit farmers can cause organic food to cost more than conventional products, leading to reduced access for consumers.  There is a large amount of variability across the sector, however, with some products having comparable prices, and others showing up to a 60% price increase for organic.  There are several techniques consumers can use  to have access to organic at a lower cost.  For example, the authors note that organic Community Supported Agriculture shares “can provide considerable cost savings to consumers, even compared to conventional produce.”  Additionally, as research on organic methods increases, tools will be available for farmers to help them reduce production costs – a reduction that could then be passed on to consumers.

Yields

Yields output and stability are an area where more research is needed to ensure that organic producers can employ methods resulting in yields comparable to conventional yields.  The authors note because organic farmers use organic soil amendments and more diverse crop rotations they can experience higher stability in yields over time, but they are also prone to pest and weed surges. Currently, many organic farmers lack the tools they need to ensure stable high-output yields, but as more research details best practices this yield gap is shrinking.

Scaling-up Organic

Photo Credit: Mark Goebel

In addition to examining the costs and benefits of organic, the authors also detail ways for scaling up organic, and improving yields.  For example, they note that many organic farms are currently located in marginal areas, while large-scale conventional farms are located in areas with prime fertility.  If the scale of organic increased to encompass some of these high-fertility areas, we might see a dramatic increase in organic yield.  Research focused on breeds that are optimized for organic farming would also help to increase organic yields. Ninety-five percent of current crop varieties have been developed for high-input conventional management, and may not be well suited for organic systems.  It is also important to think about nutrient availability as we consider scaling up organic systems.  Currently, many organic farms rely on nutrient inputs from conventional farms, so an analysis of alternative nutrient sources, including biological fixation from legumes, would be critical as conventional farms became less abundant.

Research Needs

The study also includes a section about knowledge gaps and areas where additional research is needed, including yield stability, soil erosion, pesticide leaching, water use, farm wages, labor pesticide exposure, and consumer prices.  They also cite the need for additional research on organic systems in low-income countries, identification of factors that drive the range of organic performance, and the environmental performance of organic agriculture per yield-output.

Conclusion

In the final section of the paper, the authors provide recommendations for how organic can amplify its many benefits.  Specifically, they recommend more research on organic-specific crop varieties, continued focus on incorporating environmental best practices and labor rights into the organic standards, additional research and extension services on organic best practices, continued development of domestic organic markets and certification, subsidies for organic farmers, coupling organic and fair trade labels, and improved access of organic for low-income consumers.

The researchers conclude by showing that organic has had positive impacts on all of agriculture, noting that “the influence of organic agriculture extends beyond the ~1% of agricultural land it covers at present. Many conventional farms have, in recent years, increased the use of organic practices such as conservation tillage, cover cropping, or composts.”

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