#dandelion honey without sugar

[mingtinys]

what dating seventeen feels like

pairing : seventeen x gn!reader

headcanons , fluff , misc

warnings : none

word count : 1.1 k

requested ? no

a/n: just a small collection of the things i love in life that i associate with seventeen

choi seungcheol

falling asleep on the couch and waking up in bed. chocolate-covered strawberries. the kind of love found in romcoms. expensive dinner dates and champagne.

cologne that lingers on your clothes and bed sheets. tight, bone-crushing, hugs. his hand almost always under the hem of your shirt, skin to skin (it grounds him). him letting you win when you play wrestle. cute aggression victim.

having a rock to hold on to amidst a raging current.

yoon jeonghan

diving under a crashing wave to find calm, gentle, water. rollercoasters with big drops. feathers. lavender fields. leaving the theater and realizing night has fallen.

always saying the same thing at the same time (it scares seokmin). naps on the couch. sending each other pictures of weird-looking animals with the caption "you" or "us." partners in crime. braiding his hair.

having not only a boyfriend but a best friend in jeonghan.

joshua hong

warm blankets, fresh from the dryer. pancakes and orange juice in the morning. raw honey. the scent of freshly baked bread. scented candles and wax melts.

lives up to the gentleman title. opens doors, bides by the sidewalk rule, lends you his jacket, etc. acts! of! service!! fighting over who pays the bill (he's actually ambushed your waiter to pay before you can even see the check). domestic, mundane, slice-of-life type of love.

a honeymoon phase that never ends.

wen junhui

walking down empty streets without a care in the world. morning cartoons. clingy cats. ice cream for dinner. frozen pizza with red wine. airport liminal space hours.

taking pictures of sunsets to send to each other. doodling on his hand. staying up until 3am accidentally. back hugs galore. resting his chin atop your head. him getting as close as possible when showing him something on your phone (i'm talking cheek smooshed up against yours). sleepy jun asking for kisses every morning.

living life in the moment because you know the future can wait for you two.

kwon soonyoung

energetic snow days. sledding, snowball fights, building snowmen. energy drinks and all-nighters. watermelon sugar. summer bonfires. the ambiance of muffled music through club bathrooms.

zoo dates. always wins you the biggest prizes at carnivals. his favorite place to nap is your lap. sweaty post-dance practice hugs. he gets pouty if you start a tv show without him. baking brownies at 3am. talks about you non-stop to anyone who will (or won't) listen.

excitement that isn't momentary or overwhelming. excitement that makes life meaningful.

jeon wonwoo

tulips blooming in the spring. waxing gibbous moons. amethyst. resting after a long, busy day. the scent of old, yellowed books. rhythmic clicking of a keyboard. warm, smooth, riverbank stones.

re-adjusting his glasses for him after every kiss. let's you design his character's outfits in video games. tells you about the book he's reading like it's gossip. he's always taking candid photos of you. quiet mornings. elderly couples who see you two are reminded of how they fell in love.

defining love not by how much it's said, but by how it's felt.

lee jihoon

thunderstorms that lull you to sleep. shiny, red guitars coming to life with smooth melodies. the crackle of a fire. rosemary. empty highways at night. lightning that strikes twice.

morning coffee dates at home. napping on his studio sofa while he works. quality! time! absolutely spoils you every chance he gets. pretends to act all cool when you catch him staring. writing songs for you. his hand routinely finds your knee when he's anxious. he prefers intimate and private acts of affection to the alternative.

cherishing all the little things that make your relationship important.

lee seokmin

wishing on dandelions. blue skies. morning dew on grass. golden hour. that burning sensation you get in your lungs when laughing too hard. iced lattes.

always asking permission to kiss you. so, so attentive. falling asleep on facetime. pillow forts. lots, and lots, and lots of nose kisses. him never wanting to leave you in the morning. "five more minutes" type of guy. his favorite feeling in the world is making you laugh.

finally knowing what it means to love someone so much you'd give the world for them.

kim mingyu

sleeping by a window with the sun warming your skin. hearing your favorite song on the radio. silky white sheets. first date jitters. first love. receiving a bouquet of roses.

admires you so, so, much. talks about you 24/7, much to his members' annoyance. (jk, they love you, they just like to tease him about it). literally a sponge the way he starts picking up your habits and slang. he's physically incapable of rejecting your puppy-dog eyes. likes to lay sprawled out on top of you. he'll often seek you out if he needs a little extra support.

the feeling that comes with knowing you've found "the one."

xu minghao

the autumn leaves changing. winter constellations. a solar eclipse. the quiet of a house before everyone wakes. those cozy granny-square blankets. white wine. laughing at scary movies.

wine and painting nights. him always making two cups of tea. art museum dates. swaying together to music in the kitchen. him secretly being a sucker for your doting. has your mannerisms memorized and prides himself on it. somehow always knows what to say when you're feeling down.

growing, learning, and experiencing life alongside each other.

boo seungkwan

warm, summer air. mystery flavored lollipops that somehow taste like every flavor all at once. rosy red cheeks.

teasing each other and inside jokes. nicknames like loser, stupid-head, idiot etc. (affectionate). hours long gossip sessions. kisses that taste of coffee and tangerine chapstick. stars in his eyes whenever you're doing literally anything. having his undivided attention.

resident happy pill and mood-maker seungkwan knowing he can let his mask fall around you without judgement.

hansol vernon chwe

watching city lights blur past in the passenger seat of a car at night. cereal at 1am. falling asleep while watching tv. poorly handmade, yet meaningful gifts. assorted candies. buying road trip snacks.

communicating with a single look. ice cream dates in the middle of winter. speaking purely in movie and tiktok references. late-night conversations that take a weird turn. (you've once debated if aliens would like pineapple on pizza). pretending not to notice how shy he gets when initiating physical affection.

loving the strange, bad, and hidden parts of each other as much as the good.

lee chan

the comforting buzz and motion of a subway at night. toothy smiles. watching reruns of your favorite childhood show. surprise parties. the first snow of the new year. concert lights.

driving at 2am, singing at the top of your lungs. random dance parties in the living room. getting noise complaints and giggling about it. pillow fights and board games, competitive, yet both trying to let the other win cause it'll make them happy. asking him to open jars. him getting exceptionally giddy to open said jars. (you're completely capable, but know he likes to feel needed).

making each other's inner child feel safe.

[loosesodamarble]

BC Next Gen OCs Favorite Drinks

Here we go, we're talking drinks now. There's so many that it was a little hard to keep them all unique so there are some repeats and some that are variants of each other.

Fausts

-Sterling: limeade -Dawn: sour lemonade -Dusk: sweet lemonade -Sirius: black coffee (no sugar or cream) -Merel: cinnamon hot cocoa -Vivian: strawberry milk

Roulacases

-Caelum: rose tea -Raphael: horchata

Adlais

-Silver: yogurt drinks -Clara: cappuccino coffee (with lots of extra cream)

Silvas

-Aecor: iced tea -Fleuriana: iced coffee -Chalivas: black tea (no sugar or cream) -Soleil: cola -Skylar: vanilla cola -Elana: orange cream soda -Eirlys: Earl Grey tea -Ferro: chocolate milk -Aimee: coconut milk -Naru: hot chocolate -Filomina: cranberry juice

Hearthas

-Maris: crimson orange juice (without magic run through) -Neave: crimson orange juice (with lots of magic run through) -Petrus: fruit punch

Deomines

-Remus: lime water -Romulus: apple cider -Fantasia: almond milk

Yamis

-Saki: shincha -Ann: sobacha -Kenzou: wasabi ginger ale -Kai'ichi: ginger beer -Shigehiro: konbucha

Cresswells

-Daniel: fruit smoothie -Jill: mint and cucumber water

Elves

-Avery: root beer -Elfrieda: dandelion tea -Alfred: egg nog

Others

-Leoray Vermillion: water -Cynthia Enoteca: mugicha -Jesse Voltia-Swing: hard candies dissolved in lemon-lime soda (chaotic little gremlin) -Kohaku Shirazaki: ginger tea with honey

[firstmedicaldiagnosticspvtltd]

WILD HERB RECIPES

Wild herb recipes taking into consideration food allergies

Liven up your food with wild herbs! Wild herbs add variety to your menu and are a good source of many important minerals and trace elements. Also, wild herbs have very few allergenic properties, making them a good source of enrichment for mindful eating habits, especially if you have a delayed food allergy, commonly called food intolerances.

Breakfast:

Wild herb quark

100 g wild herb mixture (mixture of eight different salad herbs), such as ground elder, wild mallow, chickweed, shepherd’s purse, dead-nettle, dandelion, campion, wild arugula—varies depending on season

250 g quark (can be substituted by goat or sheep cream cheese)

100 ml mineral water

Salt

freshly ground pepper

Preparation:

Peel and slice onions and shallots. Wash the herbs and shake dry.

Mix quark with mineral water until smooth, and season with salt and pepper. Fold in the herb mixture. Cover the quark and allow to stand for 30 minutes.

Wild herb scrambled eggs

Makes four servings:

250 g bacon, diced

1 large onion

50 g ground elder

6 chicken eggs (can be substituted for goose or quail eggs)

Salt, pepper, paprika

3 Tbsp mineral water

Preparation:

Finely chop onions. Sort ground elder and cut into small pieces. Render the bacon in the pan and sauté chopped onion until golden brown. Add ground elder and allow to soften at low heat, stirring repeatedly. Beat the eggs in a bowl, add mineral water, and whisk gently with a fork. Add the egg mixture to the pan and prepare like scrambled eggs. Season with paprika, salt, and pepper.

Main Dish:

Pear and carrot soup with common sorrel and wood sorrel

Makes four servings:

250 g pealed and finely chopped carrots

1 large pear

30 g butter (alternatively, clarified butter)

1 Tbsp honey

2 finely diced shallots

0.8 l strong vegetable stock without yeast

60 g common sorrel

10 g wood sorrel

4 Tbsp crème fraîche (alternatively, natural soy yogurt)

Salt, freshly ground white pepper

Preparation:

Melt the butter, add the finely chopped shallots, carrots, and sugar and sauté until glazed. Add stock and spices, and allow carrots to simmer until soft, approximately 20 minutes. Peal and core pear. Cut common sorrel into very fine strips. Add pear and crème fraîche to the carrots and purée in a blender. Season soup again afterwards. Place common sorrel on preheated deep plates, fill with hot soup, and garnish with wood sorrel. Instead of sorrel, cilantro also makes a nice compliment to this soup, but you will need about 50 g of cilantro and a few ground coriander seeds.

Risotto with common sorrel and wood sorrel

Makes four servings:

180 g rice

50 g finely diced vegetables: carrots, celery, and leek

1 finely diced onion

100 ml fresh cream (alternatively, sweetened soy milk)

30 g common sorrel leaves

20 g wood sorrel (hare’s foot)

Salt, freshly ground pepper

Preparation:

Cook the rice with chopped vegetables in a pressure cooker with a pinch of salt for about 10–15 minutes, allow to stand for another 5 minutes, and drain. Sauté the diced onions in butter (or clarified butter), add rice, and fill up with cream. Heat and stir occasionally. At the end, add fine strips of cut common sorrel and season generously again. Serve on deep plates and garnish with wood sorrel. (A fish fillet with crispy skin is very delicious when paired with this dish!)

Asparagus and tomatoes in gelée with chickweed pesto

Makes four servings:

400 g white and green asparagus, cooked

2 beefsteak tomatoes

0.2 l strong asparagus stock

4 gelatin sheets

Salt, freshly ground pepper

50 g chickweed

1 Tbsp roasted pine nuts

2 Tbsp hazelnut oil

Preparation:

Peel and dice beefsteak tomatoes. Bring the asparagus stock to boil, reduce a little, and strain through a cloth. Soak the gelatin sheets in cold water for a few minutes, squeeze out, and add to the hot stock. (You should have about 0.15 l of stock remaining after the reduction step.) Season again to taste. Brush a small loaf pan with a small amount of oil and line with plastic wrap. Cut the asparagus in half lengthwise and layer with tomatoes in the pan. Fill pan with warm broth and allow to thicken overnight. For the pesto, cut chickweed into small pieces and crush in mortar with a pinch of salt. Add pine nuts and also crush (thin with asparagus stock as needed). Fold in the nut oil, and season to taste again. Remove the cold terrine from the pan, slice with a very sharp knife, and serve with fresh chickweed, asparagus spears, and pesto.

Grilled chicken breast with wild garlic marinade

Makes four servings:

400 g chicken breast fillets

40 g wild garlic spread

Salt, pepper

Preparation:

Cut chicken breast fillets into slices and cover generously with wild garlic spread. Add salt and pepper as needed. Marinate in fridge for at least one hour. The marinated chicken fillets will release their best aroma on the grill, but they can also be fried in a pan with some rapeseed (canola) oil. Pair this dish with potato salad, rice, or noodles.

[tarzantips]

Home Remedies for Skin Detoxification: Get Glowing Naturally

Find the best home remedies for skin detoxification at home to get a clear, glowing complexion. These simple methods, which range from hydrating herbal teas to nourishing face masks and calming baths, will help you get rid of toxins and revitalize your skin.

Discover how to make powerful DIY skincare treatments with common kitchen ingredients like honey, cucumber, and turmeric.

These treatments provide a holistic approach to healthier skin, regardless of the condition causing your acne, dullness, or uneven skin tone. Accept these all-natural remedies for a complexion that is bright and cleansed.

Home Remedies for Skin Detoxification

1. Hydration

Maintaining enough water is essential for skin detoxification. Eight glasses of water a day or more can help your body rid itself of toxins, which can result in skin that is clearer and more radiant.

Staying hydrated helps to preserve the skin's moisture content and elasticity while assisting the body's natural detoxification processes. Herbal teas can also help with skin detoxification if you include them in your daily routine.

Antioxidant-rich green tea helps keep off free radicals and lessen inflammation. Dandelion root tea supports liver function and is well-known for its detoxifying qualities, which can help with skin clearing.

Because of its anti-inflammatory qualities, chamomile tea helps calm the skin and lessen redness.

2. Healthy Diet

For skin health and detoxification, a diet high in fruits and vegetables is necessary. Antioxidant-rich foods like carrots, spinach, and berries support skin repair and fight oxidative stress.

Free radicals can damage skin and speed up the aging process; antioxidants counteract these harmful agents.

Steer clear of processed foods, sugars, and fried foods to further detoxify your skin. These foods can aggravate skin conditions like inflammation and acne.

Rather, concentrate on eating complete, unprocessed foods that feed your skin from the inside out.

Include foods high in essential fatty acids and vitamins that promote healthy, glowing skin, that include avocados, nuts, seeds, and fatty fish.

3. Face Masks

Using face masks to draw out excess oil and impurities can be a very effective way to detoxify your skin. For this use, clay masks are great, especially those made of green or bentonite clay.

These clays' inherent detoxifying qualities aid in toxin absorption and pore cleaning.

Clay Mask:

One tablespoon of clay and one cup of water or apple cider vinegar should be combined into a smooth paste to make a clay mask. After applying the mixture to your face and letting it fully dry, wash it off with warm water.

Honey and Lemon Mask:

Honey and lemon can be combined to create another powerful home remedies for skin detoxification mask. Honey holds basic antibacterial and anti-inflammatory qualities, whereas lemons are high in vitamin C and can improve skin tone. Apply a mixture of one tablespoon of honey and a few drops of lemon juice to your face, let it sit for 10 to 15 minutes, and then wash it off with warm water.

4. Exfoliation

Regular exfoliation is necessary to keep skin clear and detoxified because it helps to remove dead skin cells, open up pores, and encourage cell renewal.

You can make a quick and easy exfoliating scrub with sugar.

Natural exfoliants like sugar can help remove dead skin cells from the skin without being too strong.

How to prepare:

One tablespoon of sugar and one tablespoon of coconut or olive oil combined make a sugar scrub. Apply the mixture to your damp skin and gently massage in circular motions, paying particular attention to any rough or clogged areas. Rinse with warm water after a few minutes of exfoliation. Once or twice a week use of this scrub can help maintain your skin clear of impurities and silky and smooth.

5. Steam Treatments

Steam treatments are a great way to unclog pores and help release impurities that have been holding onto the skin.

How to prepare:

Boil a pot of water and carefully transfer it into a bowl to perform a steam treatment at home. Keeping a safe distance to prevent burns, place your face over the bowl and cover your head with a towel to trap the steam. Give the steam room to do its work on your skin for 10 to 15 minutes. Your pores will open as a result of the heat, making it simpler to get rid of debris, oil, and other impurities. Herbs like chamomile, rosemary, or lavender can be added to the steaming water to further benefit from their additional calming and detoxifying qualities.

6. Dry Brushing

Dry brushing is a technique that may help in skin detoxification by promoting lymphatic drainage, enhancing circulation, and removing dead skin cells.

Before taking a shower, gently brush your dry skin in circular upward motions using a natural bristle brush. Work your way up to your heart starting at your feet.

This method helps encourage the lymphatic system's removal of toxins in addition to exfoliating the skin. Frequent dry brushing can improve the efficacy of your other skincare routines and leave your skin feeling and looking smoother and more radiant.

Read: What to apply on face overnight?

7. Apple Cider Vinegar Toner

Due to its natural astringent and antibacterial qualities, apple cider vinegar (ACV) is a great toner for skin detoxification. Acne and other imperfections can be resolved, and it helps maintain the pH balance of the skin.

How to prepare:

Combine one part apple cider vinegar with two parts water to create an ACV toner. Using a cotton pad, apply the mixture to your skin after washing it, being careful not to get any near your eyes. After a few minutes, remove it with a cool water rinse. Frequent application of this toner can help minimize inflammation, tighten pores, and enhance the texture of the skin overall.

8. Cucumber and Aloe Vera Juice

Combining the skin-soothing and hydrating properties of cucumber and aloe vera can be extremely beneficial for detoxification. Cucumber can help cool and hydrate the skin because of its high water content and anti-inflammatory qualities. Conversely, aloe vera is well-known for its restorative qualities and may help in the healing of damaged skin.

How to prepare:

To apply this remedy, puree a cucumber and combine it with fresh aloe vera gel. After applying this mixture to your face, rinse it off with cool water and let it sit for 15 to 20 minutes. This procedure can give skin a healthy glow, soothe irritated areas, and lessen puffiness.

9. Activated Charcoal Mask

The potent ability of activated charcoal to draw toxins and other impurities out of the skin is well known home remedies for skin detoxification.

Your skin can be thoroughly cleaned with an activated charcoal mask, which will remove oil, debris, and other impurities that can clog pores and result in blemishes.

How to prepare:

One tablespoon of activated charcoal powder and one tablespoon of water or aloe vera gel should be combined to form a paste in order to make a basic charcoal mask. After evenly applying the mask to your face avoid the eye area and let it sit for 10 to 15 minutes. After using warm water to rinse, pat dry your skin. Once a week use of this mask will help maintain your skin clear and detoxified.

10. Green Smoothies

Smoothie consumption is a great way to hydrate your skin from the inside out.

Rich in fruits like bananas, apples, or pineapple and loaded with leafy greens like spinach or kale, green smoothies offer vital vitamins, minerals, and antioxidants that promote skin health and detoxification.

These nutrients support in the synthesis of collagen, the restoration of damaged skin, and the prevention of free radical damage.

How to prepare:

Add ingredients with additional detoxifying qualities, such as spirulina, flaxseeds, or chia seeds, for an extra boost. Drinking a green smoothie every day will greatly enhance the appearance of your skin, making it appear more radiant and clear.

11. Turmeric and Yogurt Mask

Due to its well-known anti-inflammatory and antioxidant qualities, turmeric may help in skin detoxification and minimize imperfections.

Yogurt, which has lactic acid to moisturize and gently exfoliate the skin, when combined with this mask can help to clarify and brighten your complexion.

How to prepare:

Combine two tablespoons of plain yogurt with one teaspoon of turmeric powder to make the mask. Leave the mixture on your face for 10-15 minutes, being careful not to get any in your eyes. Use warm water to rinse it off. By using this mask on a regular basis, you can help your skin look healthier, lighten dark spots, and reduce redness.

Reference - CLICK HERE

[wolfofwinchester]

8. name two or more things your muse can’t leave the house without.

25. what do they do when they are deep in thought?

𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚌. 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚎 // accepting!

8. Your grandmother is a packrat, Elizabeth.

I can name several, actually. The woman never goes anywhere without her snack sachets, which are little sheer green bags filled with a variety of.. well, snacks! There's sweet and savory things ranging from small cuts of dried meat to what she calls 'sugar pearls', beads that have a very smooth, shiny surface and taste of sugar, spearmint and lavender. There's freshly foraged mulberries and steamed dandelions, and candied honey suckles to boot.

She never leaves home without her mother's broken pearl necklace, either. Keeps them wound up close, often clutching them like a rosary during travel and fiddling with the cracked pearls. She rubs them when in deep thought, something all of her progeny have seen. She's very protective over them, but would not mind letting them hold onto it and look it over. It's like her personal faith item, too. Doesn't catch attention, but there's been so much energy put into it with prayer that it counts.

Claudia also carries a silver dagger in her boot or up her sleeve, and three hatchets have their own hems sewn into her innermost petticoat layer. She never leaves home without her axe, either. It's always to be found close-by, let that be in the carriage, or in the lovely suitcase Tanaka carries around for her.

And lastly, because I was debating back and forth whether or not to mention it, is her green cloak. I count it as part of her wardrobe, but I figure it's loose enough to be counted as something she brings with her and also optionally leaves off as well. It's her cloak she's entirely dedicated to Brigid, and she considers it to be her own personal mantle. This is the biggest religious item you will find on her person outside of her mother's pearls, and it's her very own. It's very warm, makes the wearer feel quite safe.

If this woman ever has to be forced at gun point to unload everything she's carrying, she's going to take a while. She'd carry her whole room on her, if she could!

I've always used this gif to describe her and the junk she keeps on her person. It's so accurate.

25. Where is your mind now, Countess?

One leg crossed over the other, foot tapping at the air. elbow propped and fingers mustached over her lips. Claudia's mind has a terrible habit of wandering, and deep thought is nothing unusual. She has this long, eerie stare that's unnerved plenty of folk, and she doesn't seem to care if she is staring at anyone when she zones out, either. Definitely adds a bit to her "odd woman" reputation, especially when folk report that her gaze follows them when they've moved from her line of sight, even though she is not looking at them at all. That feeling doesn't quite lift until they're completely out of the room. Generally, it's nothing personal. She's just pinpointed them as her focal object. However, to those who hold it meaningfully.. they'd swear it follows them even when they're scuttled a great distance away.

Her children and grandchildren have held her gaze plenty of times, but it's so much softer. It's difficult for them to feel it's spooky or eerie when she's practically raised them, but Edward might have the odd complaint now and then. Where others feel trepidation, the children have always been able to snap Claudia back to reality easily.

[beautyandcare]

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[steriotypicaloutlaw]

More facts!

- He may be dense, but he caught on to the fact that Jacob has been watching him when he saw him doing so while he was changing his clothes one day, though he's never acknowledged it outwardly to him.

- He is half Irish, half Scottish and born in Ohio.

- He traveled a lot throughout his childhood, so his dialect is all over the place and his accent is very.. neutral.

- He moved to Texas for college and for a fresh start away from his family and the cult they joined.

- He knows English, Scottish Gaelic, Irish Gaelic, and is learning German.

- He volunteers at a local animal shelter.

- He wants a dog, but is usually too busy to take care of himself and prioritizes his shark's health over his own as it is.

- Has a vendetta against Austin and has threatened to find his personal car and slit his tires if he ever fucks with Jacob's packages again.

- His favorite colors are cyan and red.

- Calls Jacob a lot of little nicknames, including but not limited to: little dandelion, Jakey, big fella, puppy, sweetheart, sugar, honey/Hun, and pretty boy.

- Has a playlist dedicated to Jacob.

- His favorite snack is passion fruit flavor Pejoy.

- His favorite drink is tea of any kind. Hot, cold, sweetened, unsweetened, milk teas (with or without boba), sun tea, tea made in a microwave... doesn't matter. He loves tea.

- Plants. Fungi. Mosses. Lichens. Everywhere. Everything can be improved using nature themes of some kind. Have an old mirror that's falling apart? Seal it. Embrace it's worn look. Add moss! Add fungi! Add plants! Have a dresser that looks nice but made with cheap materials? Spruce that shit up! Throw some lichens on that bad boy!

- Puns. So many puns. He's a dad at heart. Complete with the jokes and affinity for cooking on the grill.

- Can't bake well, but will try.

- Horrible with names, like, really bad. Didn't remember the names of Jacob's fish for a while and had to listen in on him talking to them to learn their names.

- Will talk your ear off about fungi, mosses, and lichens.

- Had seen The X-Files at least seven times. Every season. And the movies.

- Knows how to make jams and properly canned and/or pickled goods.

- Has a breeding kink, among other kinks and fetishes, including somniphilia, voyeurism, bdsm, and puppy-play.

- Finds any way he can to distract Jacob and loves finding ways he can fluster him.

- Has intentionally left his outer shower curtain off and he only uses the clear inner one so Jacob can watch him shower.

- Gets off to knowing Jacob watches him when he touches himself.

New OC-

Quite obviously my Lurking For Love OC.

Their whole bathroom is nautical-themed and they keep lots of plants. They collect sharks, animal bones, little trinkets, movies, CDs, and figurines. They have a large tank in their basement where they keep their pet, a brown-banded bamboo shark. Their music taste is quite eclectic. They have a massive crush on Jacob and have taken pictures of him without his knowledge, though obviously not as many or as often as he has of them. They also draw him a lot and have nearly gotten caught doing so on several occasions. They aren't too skilled in technology or hiding things (digital or physical), so it wouldn't be surprising if Jacob were to find out about their crush sooner rather than later. They're also quite dense and oblivious to other's feelings towards them and also won't make the first move in a relationship as they aren't all that confident in their ability to not fuck things up, leading to them often just admiring their crushes from afar as they end up with other people.

[cahmilo]

3AM Shenanigans ㅡ carlos m.

pairing: carlos madrigal x reader

genre: crack, fluff

word count: 3k

tags: energetic and caffeinated reader, kind of ooc carlos, established relationship, modern au, texting fic, cursing, not proofread

summary: after downing a cup of coffee at midnight, you found it hard to fall back asleep. while bothering your boyfriend, you didn't expect a surprise visit from him at 3AM in the morning.

[repost] short drabble-ish based from this incorrect quote

11:59.

File Successfully Submitted.

"FUCK YEAH!!!!" You screamed at the top of your lungs. Jumping out of your chair, you immediately broke in to a physical explosion of body shaking and jumping to non-existent music. 

Having successfully passed an assignment a minute before it's due? It's practically your talent at this point. Kind of unhealthy, but you loved the rush and pressure more than crunching it a day before with absolutely 0 ideas on mind. And this, this literature review? 

It's definitely bad.

But at least it's done.

"Now what the fuck am I gonna do with this?" You asked yourself, holding your now half-empty cup of coffee. You underestimated the amount you needed and you were stuck with two options. If you left it out, it will go bad. if you drank it now, oh boy you're gonna have the sugar spike of your life. But what's life without a little goof in them?

Taking a big sip, you downed the sweet mocha caramel oreo java chip honey with 2 shots frappucino and whatever the heck more sugar-containing liquid you had asked for. 

Putting it back and getting ready for the night, you settled in your bed and cuddled yourself with your boyfriend's hoodie and resisting the urge to annoy him late at night by sending random TikToks that you found on your For You page. Looking back at the clock which was now 12:30, you turned of all gadgets and lights and hoped to go to sleep as you closed your eyes. 

━

1:30 AM. 

Your eyes were still as wide as an owls and you're starting to regret the last sip of your too sweet caffeinated drink because you can't even take a small nap. So much time has passed and there was still no sign of the sandman bringing you to dreamland. 

Having found no use of waiting to go to sleep, you muttered a curse as you grabbed your phone and hovered over Carlos' text messages. You contemplated bothering your boyfriend with your 1AM antics, but then realized that he wouldn't be bothered since he has his phone on DND at night. 

You: sent a link. 

You: was watching tiktoks and this dog reminds me of you 

You: fooken emo hair

You: bEcAusE ToNoIgHT wILL bE tHe nOiGhT tHaT i WilL fAhL foR yEww

You: i can probably spam you as much as i want since you said you had your phone on mute

You: sent a link. 

You: DUCKS ARE WATERPROOF. turns out they have this fur that makes them waterproof

You: just like dandelions

You: if i were to duct tape a duck with dandelions would that make them extra waterproof

You: lmfao duct tape

You: duck tape

You: IM CRYINGG DKHKJGH

Carlos: what the hell is wrong with you

You: oh hi amor

You: why you up so early

Carlos: ?? the question is why aren't you asleep so early

You: I can't sleep

Carlos: did you watch those horror cases again

You: NO

You: i finished my essay and i couldnt sleep because of the coffee

You: -welp i kinda did watch a horror documentary before that but its not that scary

You: okay fine i cant sleep im both caffeinated and terrified the tiktok i saw before the duck one had a scary jumpscare

Carlos: lmfao pussy ass

You: STOP IM NOT

Carlos: if u say so

You:.... 

You: i still cant sleep :<

Carlos: is that my problem

You: no

You: yk what im just gonna watch some tiktoks... ure obliged to open all of them in the morning

You: sent a link.

You: sent a link.

You: sent a link.

You: LOOK AT THIS ONE. BLACKPINK JENNIE FANCAM SHES SO FINE

You: would you be okay if i leave you for jennie

You: she kinda has a better ass

You: and i've seen you sway yours its not really the best ngl

You: sent a link.

You: sent a link.︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎

You: WHAT THE FUCK

You: SOMEONES AT MY DOOR

You: THEYRE KNOCKING

You: ITS PROBABLY SOME DRUNK DUDE THAT WANDERED IN MY HALLWAYS

You: OR A MURDERER

You: Carlos save me my knight in shining armor

You: THE KNOCKS ARE GETTING LOUDER

You: its probably a ghost or a monster im not having this rn

Carlos: why don't u let it in

You: THATS TERRIBLE ADVICE

Carlos: you wouldn't know unless u find out

You: and if its a murderer and i die, you won't have a lover anymore

Carlos: i can always find someone else

You: ?????!$?$?$ YOURE AWFUL

Carlos: just open the goddamn door idiot

Carlos: its cold out here

ㅡ

"Oh!" You jumped onto bed and immediately dashed through the door after reading his last texts. Carefully, you twisted the knob and opened it slightly, looking at the gap to see who it is. When you saw the love your life in his maroon hoodie and black pajamas, you instantly opened the door wide and jumped to his arms. Carlos almost stumbled but he managed to catch you as he put his arms under your thighs. 

"Jeez you're more energetic than I thought" Carlos mumbled in your embrace.

"How did you get here so fast?! You live on the other building!" You asked, finally letting go from the hug as you cupped his face and showered him with kisses. Carlos being used to your chaotic energy only giggled as he pushed you inside and locked the door.

"I snuck out. The dorm security guard had to go to the restroom so I ran out when he left" He said while walking to the kitchen island and placing a plastic bag on top of it. Like a lost puppy, you trailed along and followed him. "You owe me shit for making me come here at 2 in the morning."

"I didn't force you to come here"

"You brought it upon yourself when you texted, now" He smirked as he opened the plastic bag and grabbed something "-wanna have ramen?" 

You furrowed your eyebrows. "at 2AM?" 

Carlos shrugged his shoulders. "You're supposed to say yes, but I'll make it anyway. I was starving so I stopped by the convenience store before I came here" 

"Oooh did you stop by for-"

"Yes I brought you banana milk" 

"YAY" You jumped to his arms and gave him a big bear hug. Carlos in return, squeezed you so tight you almost couldn't breathe. He loves spoiling you so much because your smile always manages to make him lose his cool demeanor. You were the cutest sight he has ever seen and if it meant sacrificing his beauty sleep for this early in the morning, he would never want to think twice in sleeping ever again. 

━

"How long is this going to take?" You asked, spinning around the chair on the edge of the kitchen island. In front of you was Carlos who was busy making the ramen and opening the powder packets.

"The water literally just boiled" He explained while checking the pot of water. Putting the noodles in the pot, he hummed a song to pass the time. "Now we wait for 3 minutes" 

"Wait!" You jumped from the chair and dashed to the stereo. "Do you know what makes the wait more fun?"

Carlos peeked from afar, having unsure feelings about your devilish grin which he definitely knows you have something planned. "What?" 

"DANCE CONTEST!" You yelled, playing your favorite dance song as it echoes through the speakers. 

"Oh God, I just escaped this song from Camilo only to hear you play it on loud speakers." He facepalmed but then grew into a fit of laughter when you suddenly danced to the choreography in the empty space in front of him. 

"What the hell are you doing?" He screamed in between laughter. It was definitely not the same dance his twin was doing from before. While he cracked an egg to be placed in the soup, you continued dancing in your pajamas. As soon as he finished and let the meal sit, he gave in danced along with you in the chorus with more minimal movements compared to yours who was all over the place. 

"I knew you couldn't resist my favorite artists, you're such a fan" You pointed out while he rolled his eyes. 

"Shut up" He grumbled. 

━

Oh crap. It was already 3AM and you were blasting music on loud speakers for the entire building to hear. 

After getting second complaints from Carlos who was afraid of getting caught, your dance session ended abruptly as you two got ready to finally eat the ramen he prepared. 

"You're a good cook" You commented on his cooking, glancing at your now empty bowl. 

"It's an instant noodle pack, idiot" Carlos replied. "Everyone can do it."

You scoffed at his last comment and mocked him. "But you didn't let me do it. 'mI amOr LeT mE MaKe ThE rAmEn InsTeaD'" 

Carlos stood up from the chair and walked behind you, leaving you confused. Suddenly, he pulled you to a back hug and put his chin on your shoulders, flustering you. He grabbed your hands and put them in front of your face. 

"You see these hands?" You nodded as he continued. "These are the hands that passed a week old paper 2 minutes before the deadline. These are the hands that downed an entire cup of coffee at midnight. These are the hands that played that loud ass song on blast at 3AM in the morning, possibly calling for danger if I didn't ask you to turn it off. Now, can you give me a logical explanation as to why I would let the same hands operate open fire on a stove at 3 in the morning?"

You pursed your lips and squinted your eyes, humming and playing along acting like you were thinking of an answer. Your so-called 'train of thought' was interrupted when Carlos squished your cheeks and groaned while shaking you. Pushing his hand away, you crossed your eyebrows at him. 

"Your cuteness aggression is so fucking weird, you have a face of murder but your actions say otherwise. Like when you squished my sister's kitten with a sinister face" You picked up your bowl before he took it away from you immediately making you complain "Hey-" 

"Couldn't resist it when you look like an idiot" He cupped your cheeks again. "My idiot." He lightly kissed your nose and pulled away, grabbing the rest of the silverware. "Also, I'm not letting you touch the plates, I'm washing them." 

"Eh, less work for me thanks wifey"

"Don't call me that"

"Sorry wifey" 

━

3:00 AM...

"Okay I'm not gonna lie but that was fun" Carlos muttered out of breath as he pulled away from you while panting. "Just never ask me to do that again"

You guys were learning this dance challenge with Carlos and after your many attempts of begging, he just gave in. Tonight's challenge was the viral domino dance and although Carlos wouldn't want to admit, he was kinda having fun. 

"Learned from the best dancer I've known" You proudly said while gulping a glass of water as you re-watched the recorded video.

"That's the Carlos Madrigal effect" 

"No I was talking about Camilo" 

Carlos gave you a sour face while you laughed at him. Putting the video on your drafts, you looked up at him while he was wiping his sweaty forehead. 

"Now what?" You asked him.

"I'm just trying so hard not to throw up the ramen right now."

You laughed at your boyfriend who was still trying to catch his breath. "Okay fine, no more dancing. Wanna watch a movie?" 

"I have a better idea"

"What is it?" You asked him.

"Sleep. We sleep, Y/N."

"Oh" 

━

You didn't know how it ended up like this, but now you're lying on the bed cuddling with your boyfriend in animal onesies. Apparently when he went to the convenience store, Carlos also passed by a few outfits in the clothes part of the store and found the onesies. He bought you a sugar glider onesie while he got himself a panda one. 

After a night of energy and too much activity, you were finally happy you were getting sleepy. Maybe the coffee has worn off, or maybe it was because of the MSG from the ramen. One thing is for sure though, this was the highlight of the night. Lying on Carlos' chest while his hand plays with your hair and your legs are tangled together. 

"Amor," You called out to him, face still buried in his chest. You felt a vibration as he hummed in response. 

"Thank you for coming here for me" 

It wasn't much to say, but it felt enough for both of you. You and Carlos had just been in an official relationship for 2 months and you never felt even more happier as time goes by. But while still being early in the relationship, no one has dropped the "I love you" phrase yet, and although it took longer, it felt somehow right. It wasn't easy for you to openly display affection to each other and you both understood that.

It takes time, love takes time. The "I love you" can come later. You weren't rushing. For both of you, it's an important phrase and neither of you were ready just yet. BUT, you already felt the comfort of those words although not directly, just through Carlos' gestures that made you feel loved and cared for. Just like tonight.

"Don't thank me, mi vida. I would gladly spend any second of my time to be with you" Carlos muttered against the crown of your head, twirling and combing your hair with his fingers. That was his I love you. His quality time, his words of affirmation, his acts of service, those were his 'i love yous'.

And yours? It's a little difficult to tell from someone else but for Carlos, he definitely gets to experience your I love yous. Your constant snuggling, your shameless personality, your tears, your physical touch, your words of affirmation, all of those things were the ones only Carlos has seen and you meant to keep it that way.

"And uhm- sorry if I'm kind of a pain in the ass sometimes"

Carlos clicked his tongue. "Look at me" He grabbed your shoulders, causing you to pull yourself off and he cupped your face for you to face him. "You're not a pain in the ass okay? And you're never a handful. I like being around with you, you're like my happy pill. The sun to my moon."

His words never fail to make you smile in awe. Sometimes it makes you even tear up in joy and he urges you not to cry by saying even more sweet words that just makes you cry even harder. You're very lucky to have this man and he's very lucky to land someone like you. 

With an aww, you further snuggled into him, diving into the crook of his neck while he giggles at you. Holding you even tighter, you suddenly remembered one of the videos you were meant to send to him before his knocks scared you. 

"Oh wait, I forgot I was supposed to send you something" You pulled away and sat up on your bed, reaching for the phone by the bedside table. Carlos remained snuggled in your bedsheets, waiting for you to finish.

"This video I saw, wait I'll send it to you." You trailed off, busy scrolling through your phone. 

You were about to put it down until you heard a loud ding that startled you. You looked back to the beside table to see Carlos' phone shine brightly on.

"Amor, was that my notif?" You asked and glanced at Carlos who had a shy grin in his face. 

"Uhm, yea"

"But I thought you always have your phone on silent because it annoys you?" You put the phone back and went back to snuggle in his arms. 

"Technically it is, I just set it up so that the do not disturb option doesn't apply to you." Carlos said truthfully, intentionally hiding his face in your hair but you were smart enough to pull away and cup his face instead. 

"So you mean, the entire time I wasn't on silent for you?" 

He looked away and nodded.

"So, the whole time I was spamming your messages because I thought you were on silent, was actually not and you were hearing all those dings per second?" 

Carlos muttered under his breath. "I don't mind though" 

"Oh my god" You said as you let go of his face and dug back to his chest. "So I really did wake you up in the middle of the night" 

Carlos furrowed his eyebrows the moment he heard a guilt tone in your voice. "Hey." He grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. 

"I had it set for a reason okay? I never want to miss your messages and I hate it when you're mixed with other of my notifications. It's not your fault and I don't mind if you wake up or spam me or shit" 

"Awww" You cooed and gave him a light peck on the lips. "You love me so much" 

"Tch. I'm being nice here, appreciate it"

"I do! Next time you're officially invited for my next 3AM bullshit. Only you have an infinite invite" You said as you observe the big smile that he has. His eyes glimmering with pure bliss that made you fall deeper. 

"I accept. For tomorrow, I'm planning the activities. Ones that don't involve loud TikTok dancing" 

You hummed and nodded in response, giving him yet another peck in the lips making him laugh as if hes entranced in the sight of you completely drunk on each others love. 

"Thank you mi amor"

Funny how the lazy, barely moving Carlos Madrigal seemed to enjoy staying up late with you. Whether it would be dancing, singing, eating, or even playing video games. He would sacrifice his beauty sleep if it meant seeing you have the time of your life, it was worth it. Fuck sleep, you were worth it.

taglist: @thegirlwiththebangs @mirabelleza @carcat-02 @brushofease @camilos-luna @kitasgloves @ducky-is-dead-inside @elegantkidfansoul @moon-cakiie ++ join here

thumbnail by the artists of purrfect tale

[lemme-just-oops]

Arcana Twilight and drinks:

Aloheratz: Sometimes he drinks coffee. Is disgusted by the thought of adding sugar to coffee, he wants to feel his insides dye themselves dark from the liquid or he does not want it at all. ("I like my coffee the same way I like my nights. Dark, ednless and impossible to sleep through", a quote the man who always sleeps uses.)

Arcturus: Water and organic tea keep him going! Makes the best smoothies from ingredients you never considered that go together. Dandelion and nettle? He may use tea to cook things instead too. Noodles that taste like a berry tea? Welcome in his household. Most of his water income comes from food (especially cucumbers and melons) rather than normal water.

Pollux: This man has been banned from sugary drinks, because they mess him up. Sodas make him burp uncontrollably. His coffees have more sugar than actual sugar, tea mixed with honey. Gets headaches from energy drinks, but that does not stop him from drinking them.

Sirius: This man drinks bubble tea, do not try to convince yourself otherwise. He drinks anything, really. Soda, lemonade, water. If you dare him to drink water with a dissolved cookie in it, he will do it without changing his expression.

Vega: For someone so smart, he can be extremely dumb. Most of his liquid intake comes from soups. But he does drink a glass of water once in a while. Which still is not enough, but hey. He works on it.

[alilbihh]

woods&witches — knj

masterlist

pairing: namjoon x reader

summary: You think it ends with you saving a fox. That is, until you start getting love letters sent to your doorstep and little knick knacks left on your window sill.

genre: fox shifter!namjoon, witch!reader, fluff

words: 4.5k

a/n: this was meant for the bingo challenge but completely escaped its original prompt. anyway. heres shy!lovestruck!namjoon bc i love him. also no this is nOt a witch au blog idk whats wrong w me

A finch flutters onto your windowsill, and you shuffle over once you hear a tap, tap, tap on the glass. You push it open and the bird hops inside, beak leaning forward tentatively.

You take the letter. "Ah, so they sent you this time?" Or maybe the finch volunteered, you wouldn't be surprised. They are quite the gossips.

It's a soft blue envelope, and when you turn it over there's a scrawled #12 on the left side corner. You think that even if he hadn't written that, you'd know. It's easy to keep track, after all.

A maple leaf slips out when you open the envelope. You set it aside and tentatively take the letter, brush a hand over the ink. It was written by hand in messy but deliberate hand writing and it smells like chamomile and honey, like it was written under a half-moon.

You read it once then twice then three times until it feels like you've been dipped halfway underwater, until the buzzing of the midday cicadas has faded into white noise and everything is suddenly tinged blue.

The man, you deduced a while ago, tells tales of palm trees and blue ponds and red and pink frogs, of catching crabs on a stranded shore. He's writing poetry but he's not, writing reality but he's not, and you don't know how he does it, how he can make five paintings with just one phrase.

You clutch the letter to your chest, feel yourself have an out of body experience because of a not-poem. Your head whips towards the finch when it chirps suddenly, and you huff.

"Why're you still here?" You shield the letter from the bird's eyes. Its head tilts. "And don't give me that look, I know exactly what you're thinking."

The bird only gives another chirp before flying away.

You scoff out a laugh, and when you walk towards your bedside table, the drawer opens before you can even think too much about it. You glare at your walls before tucking the letter with the others, as if to stop the house from teasing you too much.

It all begins and ends on a sunny afternoon.

The tree roots whisper as you pass, as if to purposely lead you astray, but you follow them anyway. The forest is never wrong, after all.

So when you stumble against a snowy white fox lying on a field of wisteria, you're only a tad bit surprised.

"Ah, you don't want to do that," you say some time after it woke up in your home and stopped panicking. It's now looking down at your polka dot socks, then looks up sharply to stare at you. You don't think there's a way for foxes to show emotions, but you think that if there were, he'd be staring at you with a little bit of awe.

You clear your throat. "Your foot, I mean. You don't want to strain it."

It just keeps staring at you, one ear twitching a bit.

"Um." You say when it doesn't stop, "You'll be better in a few weeks time. It wasn't that serious."

The fox blink blink blinks before shaking itself off, fur spilling every which way. You take it as acknowledgement enough.

In a few minutes he's managed to sniff and inspect every piece of furniture in your home, ranging from your small couch to your droopy house plant. He trudges and limps and sometimes skips from place to place, and then becomes highly confused when you don't let him climb the kitchen table.

Yoongi appears on your window somewhere between the fox kneading at your rug and the fox trying to catch a moth with its mouth.

"Hey grump," you say to the black cat, scratching behind his ears. Yoongi's tail twitches in dismissal, but he whines when you stop petting him, anyway.

You can almost see when Yoongi's gaze settles on the fox, because when you turn to look he's frozen solid on your couch, as if hoping he can't be seen if he stays still enough. The cat gives you a look.

You raise a brow. "What? Don't look at me like that."

He keeps looking at you like that.

"I helped him over by the wisteria. His foot's a little bad, but it's nothing too bad." The fox stays curled up on your couch, digging his nails into the cushions much like a cat would. An ear twitches in your direction, as if he's sheepish but won't admit to it.

Yoongi mewls a single, drawn out mewl of acceptance. You nod nod nod, and the cat jumps down your window and disappears into the woods right when the wind starts blowing north and the sun starts climbing higher before dropping lower.

The world stills for a while as you work through your home, organizing your chipped cups and bent spoons and funny forks. The mushroom wraith on your door wiggles when you pass it by, and when the frog figurine on your counter croaks in greeting the fox nearly jumps out of its skin.

(The fox is gone by morning, right when the sun settles over the honeysuckle tumbling down your thatched roof. You try to feel for his presence, but it's overwhelmed by the snails and woodpeckers and oversized mushrooms.

You think that's when the letters started coming, perched nicely over your windowsill whenever you're not looking).

There's a man in your pond.

The carp in the water yells indignantly as the man tries to stand but tumbles, pondweed curled over his ankles as if begging him to stay. You just stare because the man tries to get up once then twice then three times, hair loose and windblown and positively drenched, twigs and pondweed in the knots.

You stare and stare until the man notices you and startles, looks away quickly before cringing and hesitatingly meeting your eyes. He lifts a hand, lowers it, lifts it again and waves. You wave back.

"Hello." You say. The man looks a little stunned, more stunned than when the carp had nipped at his feet. You point at the pond, "You're standing in my pond."

"Ah!" He startles, head whipping down like he'd forgotten all about it. "I am! In your pond, I mean. Sorry, sorry." The pondweed untangles itself mercifully, and he shuffles out of the water, toes curling into the dirt around it.

"It's okay!" You shoot him a thumbs up. He stares. "Do you want to, uh, come inside?"

So the man walks through the slim wooden trellis and diligently wipes his feet on the rug, shuffling through the door with hesitant steps. He looks a little like a painting left out too long in the rain, all ruffled hair and stiff shoulders, but pretty nonetheless.

"Would you like some tea?" You say, already grabbing the kettle from the cupboards, "It will have to have milk, though, since the cups don't like serving without."

"Okay! Tea is nice. Thank you." Then he smiles with knee-deep dimples and pinchable cheeks and something inside you kinda melts a little.

The man's name is Namjoon and his skin is tan despite it already being winter, the color of salted caramel. He's so bright you find it easier to look away, to look instead at the space around him, the shadow against the pane of his neck, the length of his-- very long legs. You'll pretend you never noticed that.

You don't talk about why he was in your pond, not really. He's already apologized to the carp, he says. You talk instead about mushroom glades and why avocados are acceptable dinner foods and his intense love for moths and his hopes for snow this year.

When Namjoon leaves it all feels a bit unprecedented. Lost souls show up on your doorstep often, always leaving after a cup of tea and a few helpful directions, but Namjoon doesn't look lost at all. Looks a little like he belongs, really.

He rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck, then sticks a hand out in offering. You shake his hand. He nods, lingers on the doorway, plays with a loose stitching of his soft green overalls.

"I'll-- be seeing you, then," he clears his throat, and you just laugh a little loosely because no, you won't. With lost souls, you never do.

Except Namjoon does return. He returns, in fact, in green baseball shorts and an open-collared shirt with sugar packets sticking out of the front pockets. He looks a bit like a dad showing up for his son's football game. Looks a little dangerous but in a harmless way, like a huge gangly bug. A six-foot stick insect hovering outside your door.

You're a little stunned. Very stunned. So stunned that Namjoon cringes, shuffles a bit on your welcome mat. It's a frog with a thought bubble that says welcome! that Namjoon has expressed his love for on multiple occasions.

"Hello," he purses his lips. "I... wanted to thank you. Again. For everything." He sucks in a breath. "Bad time? Bad time. I don't actually remember knocking-- did I knock? God, I didn't, did I? I'm so rude, I'm so sorry."

"No, no," you say once you've recovered. "You, you definitely knocked."

"Oh!" His lips form a surprised little 'o'. You're so fond. "That's good. Okay. I'll... be leaving, then."

"Um!" You interject, "You can come inside, if you want?"

So he comes inside and drinks tea and names the cactus by your windowsill Gerald and discusses his complaints on climate change and you're a little content and a lot confused, because--

Only creatures of the forest can find your house more than once.

Unless--

(That night, you knock on your own walls and glare indignantly. Say, "You led him here, didn't you?"

The walls do nothing. You think you hear a floorboard creak, though.

You stomp your feet like an overgrown child. "I don't know what you're trying to accomplish, but I'm not falling for it!"

No response. Except the wind chimes outside sing brightly, but when you look out the window there's no wind at all).

Namjoon visits once then twice then three times, always showing up unplanned and out of nowhere. He brings a pinecone first then a dandelion next, blushes and says I didn't pluck them against their will! I told them they looked pretty and they volunteered to help me.

He's so pretty it's become a little harder to hold in. He was always pretty, always smiles a bit too brightly, like he's swallowed a star and can't quite keep all the brightness to himself, but something's shifted a bit.

(You contemplate this in a mid afternoon. As in: whisper-screaming to the ceiling for a while. And then whisper-screaming some more when Yoongi walks directly across your face.

"You're a monster," you inform him.

He digs his tiny monster-claws into your stomach.)

One day, you learn the man is weirdly good at knitting. You learn he has a pretty solid grasp on quantum physics. You learn that when he laughs it's a little hah! under his breath, and when he really laughs it turns sideways and belly-up, pitching into something that could almost be defined as a giggle. You learn that you need to stop staring.

Another day, Namjoon sits in the corner of your couch, curled up reading a book he'd picked up from the next village over. It's small but very thick with what could only be very small letters, because he's squinting a bit as he reads. It's vastly endearing.

Another day, he makes cheesy bread in your toaster and felt bad about it for the next three weeks. Which is also the amount of time it took for you to get all the cheese out.

Everything's great.

Today, though, you're walking through the forest alone. The forest doesn't guide you, not really, maybe because it knows you're walking on your own terms.

The forest is noisy with the sounds of birds calling and trees growing and little things skipping here and there through the undergrowth. Your shoes are so muddy you don't really care for how much worse they get, and they squelch when your heels sink into puddles and spongy moss.

You walk and walk until you come across a clearing, a bird feeder propped neatly over a tree branch. A sparrow squawks when it sees you.

"Hello," you say in greeting, and the tree with the bird feeder sighs, the wind blowing and carrying the sound.

A tree root on the ground grabs a fistful of dirt and promptly flings it onto your knees. You shriek indignantly.

You have a lot to figure out, the tree echoes because of course it does. It has a history of saying things vaguely and hoping you'll understand.

"I don't understand," you say out loud.

It flings more dirt onto your knees. You step back protectively, "Okay, okay! I get it!"

One, two. Four clouds in the sky, for now, it says at last, and you're a bit afraid of prying, so you just accept what it says as fact and move on, say one last goodbye to the bluetit that flutters onto the bird feeder.

It starts raining not long after that, when more than four clouds settle over the evening sun, makes it a bit harder to maneuver through the woods. You walk based on feeling, a hand brushing over the tree trunks, silently cursing the tree.

Namjoon is already waiting when you arrive home, hurries forward when he spots you through the trees, holding an umbrella up high.

And it's-- sweet. Just a really sweet thing to do, really considerate. He could have waited inside, in the warmth and shelter, but instead he's walking through puddles to meet you halfway with an umbrella.

He looks a little funny when he stops in front of you, hair disheveled and sticking up in random places, eyes all worried and sullen. He looks like a goose.

"You look like a goose," you say out loud with a little laugh, "I'm already wet though, so there's not much point in this, you know?"

Namjoon's smile is a bit dopey, a bit sloppy at the edges. "But there's not many trees to shield you, from this point on." He says, "Let's-- go inside?"

So you go inside, the house already setting the fireplace with its never-ending firewood, the frog figurine croaking and the wind chimes singing and everything feels a little right. A little more homey.

"Did you find your way back easily?" Namjoon says later, hands cupping his tea mug as he sheepishly adds, "I know this is your-- home, obviously, I don't wanna just assume anything, but-- For me, it's a bit harder to navigate when it rains like this. Fogs my senses and all," he clears his throat.

You purse your lips to keep from smiling, "Do you know how a wood witch works, Namjoon?" You continue when he shakes his head, "A wood witch is the one who planted the first seed that sprouted the first tree that grew the first forest," you say, half-chanting it, cite it like a rhyme long forgotten.

He looks a bit awe-struck. A lot awe-struck. Says, "Oh." And that's that.

You add, sheepish, "It's really not much. I'm not as powerful as other wood witches, but I am grateful to the woods." You hum, "They gave me this cottage. They gave me who I am, really."

"Oh." Namjoon says. "Oh." He stares and stares, open mouthed and in awe and sort of dazed but pretty, pretty. His gaze trails over the room once before settling back on you, says, "You're all the beauty in the world."

And the world-- stills, maybe-- balanced atop a drop of nectar.

You whisper a small, delighted "Oh." And that's that.

Namjoon somehow manages to drag you outside the woods.

You're being dragged through busy streets, cars and crowds and carriages that boggle your senses. The difference between the village and the woods is astounding. (Not that you've never been to nearby cities or villages-- sometimes you crave poptarts and there's nothing you can do about it-- but it's been a while since you've walked into the very heart of it).

You might be a wood witch, but Namjoon is the one who looks a little — lost, outside the woods.

"This is my favorite corner cafe," he admits proudly, "Um, if Seokjin-hyung says anything, please be aware I'm not associated with him."

"Got it." You like this Seokjin guy already.

Taylor Swift is blasting through the speakers when you walk inside, a broad shouldered man swaying from side to side behind the counter as he pours milk into a cup. Once his eyes land on Namjoon he positively grins.

"Namjoon, my man!" He belts out a particularly impressive high note as Namjoon approaches him, but no one around seems at all fazed. "It's been so long!"

"I've been here last week, hyung." Namjoon says but he seems a bit happy to be missed, sheepishly ducking his head.

"That's too long. You should visit more often, it's great! I get free coffee here and don't have to walk through muddy paths and ominous sounds to visit you."

"It's not free though?" Namjoon frowns, "You may own the shop but you're the one who buys all the coffee in the first place."

The man behind the counter makes a noise that's too distorted to understand. "If I wanted someone to tear apart my ideas with logic I'd talk to Yoongi, you're both insufferable."

You want to interject but at the same time don't. You get so absorbed in your own thoughts you almost don't notice when they mention a Yoongi. Huh.

"Oh, you know Yoongi? The cat?" You blink when two sets of eyes settle on you.

"Ah, yes. Yoongi." The man you've now established has to be Seokjin sighs, resting a chin over his palm, "The devious fiend. The pest of the nest. The gremlin goblin."

"Do you ever think before you speak."

"I do! I thought of those words and then I said them."

Namjoon sighs and none of them elaborate any further, but you decide not to pry. You can always just ask Yoongi, anyway.

You both sit in a booth in the far corner where light reflects onto it perfectly but not in an overwhelming way, just enough to be warm and comforting. Seokjin pads over with your drink and Namjoon's latte and shoots excessive finger guns as he leaves, and Namjoon looks a bit like he's refraining from apologizing on his behalf.

Namjoon doodles on napkins and talks like he's reciting a far off poem, except he's talking about what should be the correct pronunciation of pickles and you're kinda maybe really hopelessly endeared.

"Do you think I should paint my nails?" He's saying, closely inspecting his nibbled nails, "Maybe it will make me stop biting my nails."

"Have you thought of green?"

He hums delightedly, "Green! I love green. I'm thinking pink though, since gender norms are a social construct and pink is just pretty in general."

"You'll look like a pretty little winter fairy!" You grin. He flushes pink, too.

Then when you get up to order another drink he stands quick, as if intending to order it for you, but you're already grinning and skipping to the counter and when you turn to look at him he's slowly sitting back down, defeated.

You're maybe smiling too hard when Seokjin walks to take your order. "Ah, Y/n-ssi! How may I help you, my gentle woodland elf?"

"Can I just have the same thing, please?" You say and he hums, walking mechanically towards his cabinets.

Then after staring dazedly at the separate christmas mugs and cinnamon buns and droopy plants, you're looking around when you spot a box by the back counter that looks like an awful lot like a letter slot, a stack of envelopes sitting neatly on top. Oh.

"What's that for?" You gesture towards the box, and Seokjin turns away from the coffee grinder to smile something a little gentle. A little secretive.

"We're a letter shop too, you know?" He looks like he's suppressing a sort of devious smile he doesn't want you to see, "We deliver letters on the writer’s behalf, so the sender stays anonymous."

Your organs twist and melt together all at once. You mumble a small "Oh" and that's that.

Then when you leave Seokjin winks before sending you both off, the man waving boisterously and maybe obnoxiously but you're immensely endeared, wave back until the shop is out of sight and Namjoon is sufficiently embarrassed.

You predictably invite Namjoon inside after you arrive home, deciding that soup after coffee doesn't sound too bad. So you watch as the fireflies do somersaults and the moths hover over lamps as you both go for seconds and then for thirds and you don't say much, maybe say nothing at all, but that's okay, too.

The soup signals a change, you think. Either

1) You are in love with Namjoon and need to tell him.

Or

2) You are in love with soup and need to seek help.

So you walk through the forest.

Namjoon is at home, you know, but you feel that talking to Namjoon about your possible love for Namjoon is a bit counterproductive, so you walk through the forest instead.

Everyone is still adjusting to last night's downpour, the floors muddy and the leaves droopy and everything smelling like wet earth. You walk but you're hovering a few inches off the ground, silently thank the forest for its kindness.

You walk through the forest again the next day, think back to the tree with the bird feeder and think that maybe he wasn't so vague after all. Just wish that he could tell you what to do next.

It's easier to listen to a tree's vague advice than it is to follow through with it, you think, until a few weeks later, when the universe decides you need a little push. A big push. The biggest push.

Namjoon has been visiting consistently for the past month or so, sometimes staying over and sometimes staying just before nightfall, but for maybe a week you haven't heard of him at all. He's disappeared without a trace.

The forest guides you this time, patches of sunlight shining through trees as you follow. You think you hear the shrill argument between a finch and a jay on the treetops as you navigate through mushroom patches and mossy rocks.

It's the field of wisteria. You're in the field of wisteria when you find a small burrow, a little home for a woodland creature.

When you turn, you see-- Namjoon. Namjoon, eyes widened in horror, a strangled sound breaking free from his throat. Two white fox ears standing ramrod straight on his head.

You clear your throat. Say, "Hi, Namjoon."

He shrieks.

A finch flutters onto the bird feeder, eyes twinkling, "Guys, you will not believe what I just found out--"

"We know," the jay says.

"We know," the bluetit says.

"We know," the sparrow says.

Even Yoongi mewls from a higher tree branch.

The finch squawks, gossip stolen from right under its wing, "How on Earth did you all know?"

"The forest made the house bigger," Yoongi drawls, tail swishing here and there, "And we all helped deliver the letters."

"Different from someone, we can actually keep secrets!" Says the jay, chest puffed proudly, ignoring the offended squeals from the finch.

"You know, it was actually kind of obvious."

You hum from beside Namjoon, his arm draped over the back of the couch inches away from dropping onto your shoulder. He wants to tug you closer, comb a hand through your hair, but the mere thought has his face burning and ears threatening to pop out at the stress. He's kissed you before, dozens of times, for many reasons and for no reason at all, but it all still feels a little nerve wrecking, like one push will have you burst at the seams.

(Which, frankly, is ridiculous-- you're the strongest person he knows, but-- but.)

"What is?" He says to distract himself.

"The letters stopped coming after you started showing up, and you literally took me to a letter shop." You falter and add, "And just.. the way you say things, it sounds like how you sound when you write. I don't know if I'm making sense, but it's-- nice." You explain, a hint of affection on your voice.

That has nothing to do with being a fox shifter and everything to do with you sitting so prettily next to him, smelling like Ilsan sunshine and kept promises and damp earth, like the forest itself.

"Hmm," he hums, a hand settling on your thigh, finally gathering the courage to drop his arm onto your shoulder--

"Namjoon, you really don't have to hesitate for this kind of stuff." You say, turning to look at him with a grin. His face burns as he clears his throat pointedly, crossing one leg over the other as he finally drops an arm over your shoulder.

"M'sorry," he mumbles.

"Don't be," You press a kiss to his chin, "And you better kiss me properly this instant, because it seems you still think that crocs are acceptable footwear. I'm gonna come to my senses any second now."

"Please don't," he says, a little wild. Then he's moving, nose brushing over your cheek, and then— and then—

A hand curling softly over your cheek, a little giggle, and his lips pressing gently over your own. Something a bit real. Un-takeback-able. You taste a lot like the poetry he writes, still writes, like you're pressing the wonders of the world to his lips, like he's skimming the universe with his hands.

(Once upon a time, you saved a fox lying in a field of wisteria.

The rest of the story is told in open envelopes, messages left for the moon to see.)

[itsmoonphobic]

Dream SMP characters and my interpretation of them:

-Techno: The smell of Dirt and soil,blood,wine and old books. Silk pillowcases,golden jewelry,mosaics,stained fingertips, grand staircases,scented candles,storyteller,lazy smiles, secretive,slow dancing,sad resting face,elegant language,cold weather,confident,doubts himself,philosophy, messy braids,glowdust flakes, poetry,graceful movements,neat and cursive handwriting, greek mythology, oriental music,pale skin,libraries,sarcasm, long-lasting friendships,quotes,frosted windows,layering clothes, know-it-all,rude but endearing,pile of papers,cherry blossoms,muted colors,overthinks everything,devotion,logical thinking,insomniac,scattered mind,castle walls,laid back,tired eyes,long debates,show over tell,lingering touches,rulebreaker, dirty palms,old movies freezing feet,old habits,late nights studying,early riser,skips meals,eye bags,tea with milk,velvet jackets,dimly lit by streetlights,ancient wood floors,flowy curtains,art museums, gravely morning voice,echos in the middle of nowhere,sleepy whispers,nostalgia everywhere,red lipstick stains,loves animal more than people,calm and quiet, healing stones,parked car conversations,sharp jaw,obsessed with memes,violins,doves, doves,floats instead of walks,unbroken promises,twisting and winding hair around fingers,nail biting, repeating phrases,mist secret scars,rumors,always wearing earphones,metaphorical, emotions fragile as a flower, speaks with his eyes,fluttery eyelashes,dog lover,forehead kisses,calligraphy,pretty knives,cares too much,lopsided grins,messy desks,talks for hours no,rolling his eyes all the time,powerful strides,wants to conquer the world,slender hands,good grades, dusty book covers,wax stamped envelopes,vintage mirrors

-Phil: The smell of cold air,pine trees and sandalwood.Dead birds and mothballs,stops on the sidewalk to make sure nobody is left behind,morning person,herbal teas,crows,eats breakfast outside,constellations,family portraits on walls, chirping and whistling,crime documentaries,cool father figure, graveyards,weeping angels,meteor shower,many friends but only a single close one,contagious laugh,fragile teacups,fog, early mornings,fuzzy blankets,springs of thyme,bare feet, empty streets,rosemary stems,flickering lanterns,burnt wood bowls,feather collector,antique silverware,a sky full of stars, skylights,torn pages,overstuffed bookshelves,makes you feel comfortable whenever you talk to him,organized,full of ideas, believes in magic,gives the best advice,lost in his own way, warm hugs,scrapbooks and bullet journals,old cars,soft features,daydreaming,bright eyes,getting lost in the woods,moonlight,self knitted sweaters, stargazing on tailgates,the universe,hand in hand with wandering hearts, garage sales,questioning life but feeling at peace,attic bedrooms and haylofts,pursuing science and desiring art, photo albums,hopeless romantic,dark chocolate,open windows and quirky morning rituals,actually knows what brunch is, succulents,a kind-hearted loner,free-spirit,plaid button-ups, always ready to let you rant,abandons projects quickly, complicated past,bold moves,goes with the flow,aims for things that seem unachievable,lives in extremes,knowing smiles,constantly busy with something new,soft touches,love at first sight,naps alot,subsequent tea stains,sparkly eyes, abandoned barns,handwritten notes,feather quills,fascination with the sky,whispering secrets to the wind,great with kids, takes a backpack everywhere,hugs trees,big winter coats,road trips,knows tons of medical info,bites his nails,comforting presence,lost souls,city lights from a high rise

-Wilbur: The smell of fire,smoke,caramel and coffee. Stands up for people who can't for themselves,emotional wreck,loves his family too much but still yells at them,soft turtlenecks,sits in different spots every time he eats dinner,chipped nailpolish, songwriter,probably depressed,wakes up in the middle of the night to write down random thoughts,heartbroken teenager songs,dark psychology and deep meanings,globes and maps, wants to travel and make lots of memories,curls of steam, earbuds in,spattered ink,good singer,keeps to himself,old music and dusty vinyl,the type of person that you could stare at for hours,loud laugh,ride or die,dreams about his future, believes in fresh starts and new beginnings, messy and tangled hair,summer nights,soft features,deep thinker and dimples, having crushes,musicals and theater, half finished diaries and laptop stickers,mixtapes,quirky love notes, secretly kinda insane,always ready for coffee,thrift shops, beachy waves, bonfires,probably drives too fast,cutoff jeans, cream and sugar,nude colors,always creating new problems for himself, fights for equality,long debates and tired eyes, tapping a rhythm and humming quietly,spends all his time on social media,beanie galore,trench coats,foggy glasses,cozy sweaters, dancing around his room to the Beatles,looking out the window when the sun is setting,birkenstocks,guitar strumming on a warm summer evening,bells and chimes,subtle sadness, the feeling of diving into a deep pool,perfect proportions,too many playlists,holding hands,pretty boy,sew on patches and bomber jackets,candid photos,warm sun on bare skin,dancing silhouettes on the sunsets,beach walks at midnight,messy but cozy room,different mood every minute,singing his favorite song at the top of his lungs,sharp grins,haunted houses, paranormal stuff,late night snack runs with friends,explores creeks and lakes,double checks everything he does,walking through hot sand,backyard campfires,acoustic songs,photo booths,train platforms at night,s'mores,sun bleached arbors

-Tommy: The smell of plastic,fresh cut grass and musk. Does the bare minimum at School,unless genuinely interested in a topic,doodles on the side of his paper,movie marathons,empty coca cola bottles everywhere,rope swings,glossy nailpolish,lots of energy,life of the party, kidcore ,can always make you laugh,loves photography,eyestrain and bright colors,bruised knees and untied shoelaces,paperballs in class,brand new red converse,denim jackets,pins and clips,chalk drawings in the middle of the road,every text contains emojis, garden sprinklers,graffiti,wreck this journal,vibrant dyed hair, scribbles and highlighter pens,carnivals,involed in many things, watermelon flavored anything,loves to climb trees,screaming on playgrounds,oversized t-shirts,stained glass windows, anklets,skateboards and hula hoops,milkshakes on the front porch,social butterfly,always in a hurry,pinkie promises,tangled headphones,melted crayons and gummy bears,bean bags and hummingbirds,spinning around till he gets dizzy,chaotic and crazy yet so fun to be around,rushing into things too quickly, roller coasters and derbies,doesn't get knocked back by criticism,cans of fizzy drinks and neon lights,skips school,tye dye shirts and nitendo games,impulse and class clown,sticks stickers on stranger's things,pickpockets his close friends,has to carry a walkie-talkie around with him at all times,sleepovers and sneaking out through windows,pockets full of change and random buttons,stands out in crowds and makes friends easily, pretends to be fearless but is scared of the littlest things,trips and rips his jeans daily,uno cards,social butterfly,music discs, fights with his family but would actually kill for them,broken handwriting,flannels and jerseys around his waist

-Tubbo: The smell of honey,fresh bread and citrus. Lowkey soft, hugging a teddy bear,pressed flowers,eats alot of bread,big hoodies,fairy lights and blanket forts,prank calls while holding in your laughter,beeswax candles,sidewalk dandelions,gentle cuddles on the couch,pastel yellow and cute doodles,flower crowns and diasy chains,plays the ukulele,fascinated by bees and supports local coffee shops,outdoorsy sunshine addict, sparklers and iced lemonade,festivals with fireworks and fireflies in mason jars,homework done as soon as its assigned, watercolor paintings,giggling uncontrollably,long hugs and lazy cartoon afternoons,park dates and forehead kisses,cutting pants into shorts,messy wild hair and pear lollipops,has tiny random braids decorated with golden yarn,hearing the crinkle of leaves underfoot,suprise piggy back rides,adult swim shows and lip gloss stains,being goofy without meaning to,bounces in his step and stops to pet stray animals,baked bread and washi tape bracelets,bike rides and summer picnics,rolling down a hill in the spring and bringing home grass stains on his jeans, waving at someone across a crowded room,spontaneous hang outs and self made clay rings,sitting in the warm sunlit grass on early spring mornings,rock painting and hiding them for other people to find,picking apples from trees but needing to be held up in order to reach one

-Ranboo: The smell of peppermint tea,denim and rain. Is there for everyone but never themselves,regrets things they said but can never find the nerves to apologize,clumps of mascara and winged eyeliner,writes down every tiny thing in notebooks, loves children and their friends,forgetting that they already grabbed a waterbottle,drawing on condensation windows,rainy days and puddles,always on the edge of a breakdown,elevator music and long limbs,old tape recordings and cassettes,moss covered ruins and greenhouses,wanting to be in multiple places at the same time,different colored socks,long hugs and head pats,reading under the covers,collages and spray paint,record players and walks alone through the woods,loves playing by creeks and collecting stones,always wondering and worrying about things they shouldn't,vivid dreams and leather jackets, silver necklaces and piercings,snoozing their alarm clock, seeing the moon in the early morning,blurry photographs and windswept hair,downpours and comfortable silence,wrapping gifts and handing them over with shaking hands,sitting on a rooftop and spontaneous plans,lofi sounds and long train roads,deja vu moments,randomly dissapears and sipping tea, cold concrete and city parks,tickets and brochures from places they visited,dusty parchment and desperately trying to be a good person,wikipedia articles and lace-up boots,often loses track of time while talking to people they love,sings to the radio and avoids conflict if possible,can't sit still for five minutes, perpetually in an emo phase and knows more than they let on, hawaiian shirts,henna tattoos and sparkling water,sleeping in complete darkness and the relief of falling into bed,midnight thunderstorms and anticipation for the coming day,lucky charms and the sound of rain hitting the windows

-Dream: The smell of apples,eucalyptus,vanilla and green tea. Freckles and smiley faces,glow sticks and wrinkled linen, probably a really good singer,wild laughter and jellyfish, popular,tanned skin and cruising with the top down,doesn't take shit from anyone,analytical and self assured,beachy waves and dreamy sunsets,running barefoot,likes being active and on the go at all times,sassy and dramatic as fuck,dream catchers and hammocks,glow in the dark stickers on his phonecase, feisty and a sense of danger,brought home stray cats when he was a child,falling in love with strangers,waking up early and continue laying on the bed,golden hours and 4pm naps,soft aching hands burried in messy hair,center of attention,static and heavy breathing,old percy jackson books under the bed, throwing pebbles at the closed windows of his friends' room, retro diners at 2am,adrenaline junkie and nighttime thriver,will go insane if cooped up indoors for too long,deadlines till last minute,oversleeping and coming home past midnight,naturally a really good surfer,hugs from behind and neck kisses,checking the fridge at 1am,ice cream in bed and cat cuddles,always picks up over facetime

Might make more parts for some of the other guys :)

[sirrriusblack]

In honour of the wonderful @e-of-west-glendia’s birthday, I wrote sickening, gay wolfstar fluff, enjoy :)

Happy Birthday, darling! It’s been over nine months since you first messaged me and I cannot put into words how happy I am that you did (because lord knows I wouldn’t have had the courage to do it). You’re one of the most talented, beautiful, kind, amazing, inspirational, fabulously gay and evil people I know and I love each and every minute I get to talk to you. Oh, and you’re so old now! Oo, who knows, you might even grow an inch or two this year :)) I hope you have the best day. Happy birthday! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

* * *

“Uh...hey babe,” Remus said, answering the door to find a leather-clad, dishevelled Sirius standing in front of him, two helmets in his hand. Sirius nodded and walked past Remus and into the bedroom of his tiny two-room flat. “Nice to see you too,” Remus mumbled under his breath and followed Sirius.

“You’re not busy at all today, are you?” he asked fishing through Remus’ drawers and pulling out clothes. Remus looked over his laptop, still open on the bed. He’d been working on an assignment for his English literature class. Well, he’d been sitting in front of his laptop and getting distracted by the Hamilton soundtrack that he’d paused before he opened the door.

“No,” Remus quickly answered. “Why?” Sirius threw an outfit to Remus, who, upon seeing it, shook his head and pulled out some better clothes.

“Well, I need you for something,” he said, watching Remus pull his sleep shirt over his head and replace it with a white collared one. Remus looked up.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, concerned. Sirius threw him his dark green sweater.

“Oh, yeah, let me rephrase that. I want you for something,” he corrected himself, and Remus raised an eyebrow, pulling the sweater over himself. Sirius reached out and hit him in the arm lightly. “Not that kind of something, stupid.” Remus pulled off his pyjama shorts and reached for the tan pair of trousers in his bed. “Although,” sirius, added, winking. Remus shook his head and finished dressing, pulling on socks and shoes while Sirius checked his phone.

“Done,” Remus said, walking out to the kitchen. Sirius stood and followed him.

“Ravishing,” he said, and Remus rolled his eyes. “Now, let’s go.” He watched Remus pull out a travel mug and flick the kettle on. “No. No tea.” Remus smiled sweetly. “Honey,” Sirius whined, sticking out his bottom lip.

“Ooh, good idea, babe,” Remus replied, pulling the honey out of the pantry and reaching for the tea jar. Sirius huffed and sat on one of the stools Remus had found on the side of the road and placed next to his kitchen counter. “You want some?” he asked.

“No, Moony,” he said. “I do not want some tea. I want to go.”

“And where would we be going exactly?” Remus heaped some sugar into the mug and opened the tea jar. “Black or chai?” he asked Sirius.

“Somewhere secret,” was all Sirius said. Remus chose black and poured the water into the mug.

“Well, if you get secrets, it’s only fair that I get tea,” he argued, adding some honey and stirring. Sirius sighed, standing and opening the fridge. He pulled out the milk and handed it to Remus, who placed it on the counter and waited a minute or so.

“There’s a chocolate milk in there if you want,” he said, gesturing to the fridge. Sirius’ eyes lit up and he opened the fridge again, eyes searching the shelves. “In the drawer,” Remus said, carrying the tea bag to the bin, careful not to drop water anywhere. He poured the milk and closed the lid on the cup, handing the carton to Sirius. “Okay, we can go now,” Remus said. He smiled and pocketed his phone. Sirius closed the lid of his chocolate milk and handed Remus the helmet, holding onto it to pull him closer, pressing their bodies together. “Oh,” Remus said. Sirius laughed.

“I love you, Moony,” he said, letting go of the helmet between them to wrap his arms around Remus’ neck.

“I love you too, Padfoot,” he replied, smiling. He leaned forward to meet their lips together, But Sirius ducked and put his helmet on, taking his chocolate milk with him. Remus laughed and followed, tea in his hand.

Sirius got on the motorbike, shoving the bottle into a bag that looked quite full. Remus raised an eyebrow.

“You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?” he asked, watching Sirius pull out a zip seal bag and motion for the travel mug. “You brought a—”

“Those cups always leak and I need the contents of the backpack to stay safe,” Sirius cut in, sealing it and putting the cup in said backpack. He threw it to Remus, who caught it, despite the weight.

“What is in this thing?” he asked, reaching for the zipper. Sirius frowned.

“Hey, no! No peeking. Get on the bike,” he ordered, clipping his helmet on properly. Remus pulled the backpack and his helmet on before he got on behind Sirius. “And no,” he said, finally. “It’s a surprise.” Sirius revved the engine. “Hold on tight.” Remus did. “To infinity and beyond!” He started driving.

* * *

The field of trimmed grass and yellow dandelions was not what Remus had been expecting. He didn’t say anything as Sirius took the backpack and lead him through the field, down to a line of trees. It was a beautiful day. The sun was out but there were enough clouds—fluffy and bright against the blue of the sky—to keep the heat of it away. And the flowers. Their yellow colour was beautiful against the vibrant green of the grass in full bloom and the white daisies sprinkled throughout.

When they reached the treeline, still without having spoken a word, Sirius reached into the bag and pulled out a blanket, laying it carefully on the grass, half under the shade of the trees. Remus opened his mouth to say something, but Sirius only leaned forward and shushed him with a small kiss and leaned back down the bag. He pulled out a portable speaker next, and set his phone down beside it, motioning for Remus to set it up. As he did so, he watched Sirius reach into the bag again and this time, pull out his chocolate milk, Remus’ tea, and a grocery bag full of something Remus couldn’t see. He placed the bag in the middle of the blanket and smiled up at Remus, waiting for the song to start playing. Can’t Help Falling In Love played on the speaker and Sirius’ smile grew wider. He leaned forward and kissed Remus, slowly, biting his lip as they parted. Remus pulled his phone out and typed something, moments before Sirius’ phone buzzed.

Can I speak now? the message read. Sirius laughed.

“Yeah, love, you can speak,” he said, lying down so his head was on Remus’ thigh.

“So is there a reason we’re sitting in a field of flowers on a Saturday morning?” he asked, running his fingers through Sirius’ hair.

“I missed you,” he replied simply. Remus hummed along to the music.

“See anything in the clouds?” he asked, leaning over to pick some flowers from the grass. He locked eyes with Sirius for a moment before he began working at the flowers.

“That one looks kind of like you.” Sirius pointed up at the sky. Remus squinted, twisting to get a better view.

“That looks like a pile of shit,” he said. Sirius laughed.

They stayed like that for a while, underneath the spring sun, braiding flowers and lounging on blankets, before Remus started whispering the last few lines of the song.

“Take my hand,” he sang softly, adding a daisy to the chain. “Take my whole life, too…” Sirius opened his eyes and looked up at Remus, tangled curls framing his face, golden in the sun. He was beautiful. “For I can’t help...” he locked eyes with Sirius, “falling in love with you.” Sirius sat up and leaned against Remus.

“For I can’t help...” he joined in, “falling in love with you,” they finished. Remus picked another flower, holding the chain up for judgement. Sirius nodded. He twisted to face Remus, both of them cross-legged and knees touching on the blanket. Remus finished off the chain, linking the two ends together to make a flower crown, and placed it on Sirius’ head.

The yellow and white contrasted beautifully against Sirius’ raven hair and Remus couldn’t seem to look away. His eyes were fixed on the strands of hair falling into Sirius’ eyes, the sleeves of his white shirt that he’d rolled up just before his helbows, the look in his eyes as he stared back at Remus.

“Well?” Sirius asked, breaking the silence. Remus smiled, lying back and pulling Sirius down next to him. He turned his head to look Sirius in the eye.

“Ravishing,” he whispered and winked, before turning to watch the clouds. Sirius snorted and flipped the grocery bag, tipping a mountain of chocolate and more junk food on the blanket next to them. “Oh, fuck yes,” Remus whispered, grabbing a chocolate bar.

“Good boyfriend?” Sirius asked, tearing open a bag of sour lollies. Remus tossed a piece of chocolate in the air and caught it in his mouth.

“The best,” he said, lying back down next to Sirius. “I love you, Padfoot.”

“I love you too, Moony.”

[systlin]

Hello Plauntie, what would you do in case of a disaster situation without expecting a lot of gov help. Like how to provide for a small community, a lot of people are going to be out of work (non US) so small incomes might disappear. To be able to sustain a smallish community and depending how the pandemic goes, we are thinking of agriculture, animal husbandry, resources handling, the security for it, fuel reserves and energy alternatives when the grid is down. We might have 1 month or 2.

I’m in perhaps a better place than many for this, because I live in a place with very rich agricultural land, regular rain, and plenty of springs and rivers for water. People who live in cities or in more arid areas with poor soil would be harder hit. I can just plow some ground, and there’s deep rich black topsoil, five to six feet of it, the legacy of the tallgrass prairie that built some of the richest land on the planet. 

What I’d do? I’d plant wheat and corn and oats and beans and squash and vegetables. I’d keep maintaining a compost heap to give back to the soil what I took out of it. I’d get my water from springs or a sand point pump, and boil it before drinking it. I already grow soapwort, which you can clean yourself with, and I’d make soap with wood ash and whatever fat was to hand. 

This area is also rich with cattails and oak trees. Cattails provide more carbohydrate starch calories per acre than wheat. I’d dig and process the rhizomes into cattail flour, which is incidentally gluten free and safe for anyone with gluten intolerance. The river nearby is filled with water lilies; the tubers and seeds are edible and choice. Acorns are produced in massive abundance in the fall, and after processing to remove tannins are delicious. Acorn meal makes excellent crackers and porridge. 

Nettles grow rampant here. Nettle leaves, cooked, are delicious and nutritious. There’s a multitude of edible plants here; dandelion, lamb’s quarter, wild asparagus, wild blackberries and raspberries, mulberry, gooseberry, garlic mustard, wild horseradish, pepperweed (good pepper substitute if you can’t get it), chicory, wild grapes, wild rose hips, wild carrot...the list goes on. Walnut and hickory trees grow everywhere, and the nuts are oily and rich and delicious. 

Mushrooms! Morels in spring, oyster mushrooms on dead wood in summer, puffballs, honey mushrooms, chicken of the woods, chanterelles (uncommon but I’ve found them few rare times), lion’s mane, coral mushrooms. 

For livestock; chickens chickens CHICKENS. Chickens can be fed food scraps and can forage for themselves, and are fantastic for pest control. (Watch them around gardens; they’ll eat your vegetables as readily as weeds. They in turn provide on average an egg a day, and when you clean their coop compost their bedding and droppings into lovely rich compost that will go back onto the garden. When they stop laying, you get chicken for dinner, and stock from the bones. Save the feathers; they make good stuffing, and the flight feathers make good dusters. 

Goats are also good; they give milk and will eat almost anything, and take less room than, say, cows. Goats can be trained to pull carts. Their bedding and droppings also goes on the compost heap. Also, of course, if you have some males and females, you’ll get more goats, and goat is tasty. 

Bees. They’ll pollinate your crops, and produce honey and wax and propolis. 

Fuel reserves; to be honest, this is a trickier thing. If you’re thinking petrochemical fuel, it might be harder to get. In my area, weedy trees grow everywhere, and when it comes to fuel I’d go for wood. It can easily be gathered, stacked, and stored. 

I’d invest in a still, too. Hell, I already have. Anything with sugar in it or any sort of grain can be brewed into alcohol, which can be used to fuel engines converted to run on it, can be used to sterilize hands and instruments as needed, and of course can be drunk. 

Solar and wind and water are all good options. We’ve got an abundance of all three here. The most difficult thing would be the initial cost and batteries to store the power generated. 

Security? I’m honestly less worried about that, and I speak as someone who is a pro security person there. If people showed up desperate, I’d feed them, give them drink, give them a safe place if they needed it, and even welcome them to stay so long as they pitched in. 

[narniaandplowmen]

to say the truth (or lose his love)

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier Also on AO3 2898 words.

Part 1 of the to say the truth (or lose his love) series

General Audiences / No Archive Warnings Apply Complete

In order to fulfil his contract, Geralt has to either kiss his true love, or find the Faery Queen's lost son. He assumes the latter will be easiest.

Jaskier had been feeling antsy for almost the entire day now. He didn't exactly know when it started, but as he looked at the apple Geralt had handed him in lieu of lunch, he suddenly realised that his insides were shaking and he was not at all hungry.

“There's a town three hours north.”  Geralt announced as Jaskier was contemplating the implications of his ever-growing anxiety.

"Ah! Lovely! An actual bed to sleep in tonight!”  He tried to measure his voice, but he knew Geralt could hear the artificiality of it. He had never been a very good actor.

“Hm.”

As they travelled in uncharacteristic silence, Jaskier's antsy feelings only grew and grew. Instead of becoming louder, as he usually did when he was nervous, he turned almost as quiet as the stoic Witcher himself.

“You okay bard?”

“What? Oh! Just looking at these beautiful trees, and all those-”  Jaskier’s voice broke as he suddenly realised that alongside the path grew "buttercups." Fuck.

“You sure you're okay?”

“I'm sure!" Jaskier was sure he was not okay, and he did not know who he was trying to get to believe otherwise.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~ 

“Fae.”  Geralt grumbled before the bard could even ask what the new contract was. "Been stealing the grain. Poisoning the cattle. The mayor's wife is about to give birth, they're fearing a changeling.”

“Aha.”  Jaskier just replied. “Are you waiting till tomorrow?”

“Sun’s still up for another few hours. Might as well try to find them now.”

“Yes. Right. Well. I'll just. Wait here for you to come back. Don't step in any circles, okay?”

And off the bard went, waving his lute questioningly at the innkeeper. Geralt rose an eyebrow, surprised that Jaskier hadn't insisted on coming along, as he usually did. Not that he minded. When the little town's mayor had told him about the village’s problems, Geralt had dreaded the prospect convincing Jaskier to stay behind almost as much as he was dreading fulfilling the contract. Not that he was going to complain, dealing with those damned Fae would be enough of a bother without the ever-blabbering Jaskier digging himself into holes he would not be able to climb out of. Still, weird. The sharp smell of anxiety hadn’t left the bard since early that morning, and Geralt made a mental note to keep a closer eye on him. Just to make sure he stayed okay. Not because they were friends , but, well, Geralt couldn’t imagine that an anxious bard could earn a lot of coin. And winter was coming up, and Geralt wasn’t so heartless as to leave Jaskier for the winter without any sort of security that the man would be okay. Not that he spent his time in Kaer Morhen worrying about the bard. No, they weren’t even friends.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

The Fae were not hard to find. Geralt had stumbled upon the first circle less than half an hour after leaving the village, meaning they had been living there for longer than the mayor had insinuated. Which also, Geralt realised, meant it would be more difficult to make them leave. He grunted and grabbed one of the sugar cubes he usually reserved for Roach, tossing it into the grass in the middle of the circle of blooming dandelions. A voice like the softest bells immediately replied.

“Witcher! Our Queen has been expecting you!”

Their Queen. That explained the proximity to the village. If the Court was big enough that it was ruled by a Queen rather than a Lady, it was properly able to defend itself against angry, overconfident villagers.

“What an honour,”  Geralt grunted sarcastically.

“She's straight ahead,”  the little fairy, a tiny green thing, pointed. “Take a right at the Oak, she's waiting near the buttercups.”

The creature said the final word as if they were supposed to mean something to him. He supposed they did. The bard's clothes always had a buttercup pattern. Not that he had been staring at the bard, no. He had just noticed it whilst repairing one of Jaskier's doubles. Just to stop his whining, not because he cared. He was just a nuisance, making his life more difficult every step of the way.

Ignoring the fairy's pointed look and carefully manoeuvring around the circle, Geralt made his way to the promised Queen.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

“You're back early! I don't suppose the Fae were incredibly forthcoming and ready to move immediately?”  There almost seemed to be hope in the bard's voice.

“No.”  He sighed. “They want payment.”  

“Of course they do. And surely they weren't as forthcoming as to actually tell you what they want?”

“They were.”

“Wait what?” the surprise in Jaskier's voice was genuine. “Since when does m- a Fae Queen clearly state what she wants? That makes it suspiciously easy.”

“How did you know there was a Queen?”

“What did she want? Honey? Fish? Coin?" Jaskier pointedly ignored the question.

“True love's kiss.”

“What.” Geralt almost wished he could have a painting made of the stunned look on the bard’s face. Just because it looked so funny, not because it made the bright blue eyes stand out gorgeously, not because it emphasised the beautiful curve of the young man’s eyebrows, not because- Geralt quickly shook his head.

“She wants me to kiss my true love. Or, alternatively, she wants me to deliver her son home.”

“Ah. So. Great, I'll- I'll go get my stuff. Leave you to- to find Yennefer.”

“Why would I try to find Yennefer?”

“You just said 'true love'?”

The Witcher rolled his eyes. “Yennefer is not my true anything. Now, did you see any suspicious adult men here during your performance?”

“Did I what now?”

Geralt started humming.

“Geralt! Are you singing?! And not even one of my songs?”

“Sh! I’m trying to remember...” And, to Jaskier’s flabbergasted surprise, the Witcher started to softly sing.

“Twenty years he’s come and gone, in winters lies he here.

But now, my child, the time is come, for him he holds so dear

to say the truth, or lose his love, the lute will let you see

my son, at last, should travel home with him he loves or me,

to him he loves or me. ”

Jaskier stared at him, eyes and mouth wide open. “You can sing.”

“That’s not the point, Jask-”

“You. Can. Sing!” The bard now truly sounded offended. “And you say that’s not the point? Geralt, How many times have I tried to get you to sing along with my songs? My ballads? And not even just in public! You refused to sing when we were sitting next to a campfire gods knows where-”

“Jaskier!”

“I have to say Geralt, if I knew it took a meeting with m- with a Fae to get you to sing I would have-”

“Your lute,” Geralt interrupted. “The lute should reveal the fairy prince. Did you see anyone strange whilst I was gone?”

“You can sing.”

“Anyone in the audience? Jaskier, please.”

“Nobody in the audience looked out of the ordinary, Geralt. And I doubt that the fairy prince would calmly stop to listen to music so near to his mother’s court.”

“The Queen said that she knew her son was in the village. We have to ask around, see if anyone here disappears during winters. That must be something people notice.”

“You’d be surprised,” Jaskier laughed, and Geralt couldn’t help but detect a bit of bitterness in the bard’s voice. “But if you’re so insistent, I’ve been asked to perform again when everyone has put their children to bed. So you can sit there and endlessly wait till your medallion starts vibrating or whatever, but I am pretty sure it won’t. There will be no fairy princes in the audience tonight.”

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

There were no fairy princes in the audience that night. Instead of staying hidden in the shadows, Geralt had wandered through the inn during Jaskier’s performance, carefully observing the guests. He had spoken with the innkeeper, the mayor, a few women who were all too willing to gossip about the ins and outs of everyone in the village, but he had heard nothing that could help. He kept thinking about the words the Queen had sung. The time had come for someone to say the truth? Who? The person the prince held dear? The prince himself? And why would the prince lose that person if the truth wasn’t spoken? He stared blankly as Jaskier carefully wiped the lute down, inspecting it for any potential damages. The lute will let you see.

“Jaskier.”

“Oh, are you done brooding?”

“I need to borrow your lute.”

“Wait, are you telling me you cannot only sing, but also play? Twenty years we have been travelling together, twenty long years and-”

“Not to play. To see.”

“Listen Geralt, if you don’t know the difference between glasses and an instrument I don’t know what to-”

“The song, Jaskier. It says the lute will let me see the prince, so maybe I have to hold the lute.”

The bard looked at him doubtfully.

“I won’t let any harm befall it. I know how important it is for you, Jaskier. I promise I won’t damage it. I will protect it like- Like I protect Roach.”

“Fine. But if you-”

“If something happens to it, I will do everything in my power to repair or replace it. I swear.”

“Good.” Jaskier bit his lip. “And make sure you return it before dinner. This is a well-paying crowd.”

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Geralt felt like a fool, wandering through the village holding Jaskier’s lute. It didn’t help that the lute wasn’t helping. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, nobody knew of anyone disappearing during winters, and, as far as he could track, there were no secret lovers either. So he did the only thing he could think of, and, lute in hand, walked back into the forest.

This time it took even less to find the fairy Queen. She seemed to be waiting for him, unsurprised that he came alone.

“You brought the lute.”

Geralt nodded. “I am sorry, your highness, but I have been unable to find your son. If you could but tell me how he looks li-”

“Give it to me.”

“What?”

“The lute. Give it to me.”

“It is not mine to give.”

The Queen smiled and waved her hand. “Don’t worry, Witcher, I know how much it means to the one it belongs to. He will get it back.” Geralt just looked at her. “He will get it back, whole, undamaged, in the exact state as it is now, before sunset.” the Queen specified. “I mean no harm to your bard.”

“He’s not my-”

“The lute, Witcher.”

Geralt sighed and, carefully not to enter the circle, handed the lute to the brown-haired lady.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

She did not break it. She did not enchant it, or cut its strings, or anything else. Instead, she played. One of Jaskier’s songs, Geralt recognised it. Not that he listened to the bard when he played, he tried to tune it out most of the time, but it wasn’t like he was completely able to avoid hearing the endless stream of music that joined him every place he went. After that song was done she played another, and another, and another. All of them written by Jaskier. She did not sing, though some of her servants would hum the occasional line or dance along.

It was getting late when Geralt spoke again. “You are a talented player, Lady, but I promised I would return this instrument to its owner before dinnertime. I could fetch you another lute from the village, if you want?” He knew from experience that even slightly antagonising a Fae court would make his task of getting them to leave exponentially more difficult.

“Ah, no, I think I like this lute better. It carries memories, you know,” she replied, continuing to play. Geralt was surprised at how suspiciously amiable this entire contract had gone. Any other Fae would have deviously tried to trick him by now, or forcibly dragged him into the circle. “Besides, the lute is not yours. I will return it to him who owns it.”

Fuck.

“You want me to fetch Jaskier.”

“Oh, there is no need for that. He is already on his way. He is pretty pissed, Witcher.”

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

The moment the words left the Queen’s mouth, Geralt heard the distant footsteps of the bard. He indeed sounded angry, but, as Jaskier came closer, Geralt noticed he smelled more of fear than of fury. Geralt frowned. Jaskier was never afraid. Sure, he would be scared of husbands he cuckolded, or the monsters Geralt fought, but never scared like this.

“What the fuck, Geralt. I lend you my lute, you promised you would keep it safe, and you hand it over to someone else? A Fae Queen? Are you mad? Are you short of a few marbles? A few thousand marbles, perhaps?”

“Hello, Julian.” The Queen said, before Geralt could say anything in defence of his actions. “You know I won’t ever let any harm come to your instrument.”

“I know m- I know. But he didn’t!”

“I promised him I would not harm the instrument, and I promised that you would have it back by sunset. He had no reason not to give the lute to me.”

“He still should not have. Give it back.”

“Come and get it.”

“Why now? Why like this?”

“It’s been twenty years, Julian. It’s time. And since you refuse to do it, I am forcing your hand. He has to know. You’re being unfair to him by keeping silent. He will discover someday, anyway. You have to make a choice, either reveal it now, voluntarily, or I will force you.”

“Fine.” And before Geralt could say anything, before he could step forward, grab Jaskier and drag him away, Jaskier stepped headfirst into the fairy circle and grabbed his lute from the Queen's outstretched hand.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

He didn’t die. Or faint. Or grow old rapidly. Jaskier just stood there, next to the Fae Queen, cradling his lute, and nothing changed. Geralt blinked. That was not true. Something did change. He became a little taller. His ears were a little bit more pointy. His smile a little wider, and everything about him became more regal than any king Geralt had ever seen.

“What. The. Fuck, Jaskier.”

“Geralt,” the bard said, with a mocking bow, “meet my mum. Mum, Geralt. Though you already knew that.” He stepped out of the circle, still firmly clutching his lute, and Jaskier became, well, Jaskier again. Not that he had ever not been Jaskier, but still.

Geralt just stared.

“I am sorry Geralt, I wanted to tell you, I really did, but I didn’t know you, and then Filavandrel gave me this lute, and- and I just sort of started following you, and- You never even admitted I was your friend! The only time we ever talked about Fae you just told me you thought all of them were cheating bastards!” Geralt winced. “Yennefer never told you? I am sure she knew. And- I mean, I never aged! We have been travelling for two decades and I still look as young as when we first met! Do you mean to tell me you never noticed?”

“I thought- Your salves and-”

“Those can’t completely stop someone from ageing! I-” Jaskier’s voice suddenly went from exasperated to really quiet. “I’m sorry. I’ll go grab my stuff from the inn. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure no Fae will ever harm you. I- I’ll see you in a bit, mum.” And with those words, Jaskier turned away and left.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

“He did want to tell you, you know.” The Queen’s voice sounded from behind him. “He was just afraid of losing you. I hoped this would give you two a push in the right direction, but it seemed like I was wrong.”

“Jaskier’s a faery?”

“Jaskier is my son. He is High Prince of the Summer Court, and will inherit my throne in a couple of centuries.”

“Centuries? He is immortal?”

“As long as he doesn’t get himself into too much trouble, yes, he is.”

“Jaskier’s immortal. He won’t die.” Geralt stared in the direction the bard had disappeared in as his brain and heart rapidly embraced feelings had refused to acknowledge for the past twenty years.

“He has lived for over six hundred years, and he will live at least another ten times that.”

Geralt ran.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

By the time he arrived at the inn, Jaskier had already packed his belongings and was saying goodbye to Roach. “Jaskier!”

“I’m sorry Geralt.”

“I love you.”

There was a loud twang as Jaskier’s prized lute hit the ground.

“I love you. And I didn’t tell you, and I didn’t tell myself, and- I thought you would die, Jaskier! I thought you would die, and leave me here, and it was easier just to pretend I didn’t like you than to admit it and see you grow old and leave-” Geralt’s words were cut off as the bard’s, his bard’s, lips hit his. The smell of flowers, the taste of honey, the soft touch of Jaskier’s hand on his cheek- It was beautiful and gorgeous and real.

“You don’t hate me? For keeping this secret so long?”

Geralt just shook his head and kissed.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

The village’s cattle were safe, in the end. So was the harvest, and the mayor’s child, or any other baby born, for that matter. The Witcher had fulfilled his contract and received his coin, and by the time a young Oxenfurt graduate passed through the village singing a song of a white-haired Witcher and his Faery love, the people had long forgotten about their own encounter with the White Wolf of Rivia. It was not like they could know that every winter, Kaer Morhen bloomed wild with tiny, yellow flowers. Or that, every summer solstice, the Fae Queen’s celebrations were attended by a witcher. Or that, for many, many, many years to come, a humble bard and a friend to humanity, with rings on their fingers, would travel the Continent, never leaving the other’s side.

[tarnishedhalo]

Get To Know the Muse: Andrew Riley

Favorite things.

season: Summer. The heat of the sun on my bones, the lack of ball-shrinking cold that eats into said bones and grinds them under ice-teeth. It’s beer, ball-game, and bikini weather. You can cook outdoors and everything smells like coconut oil and peaches. Sun’s up from about 0600 to about 2200. I really enjoy taking two weeks off and charter up to the Vineyard, staying at the summer house. Take the boat out to Devil’s Bridge and go fishing for stripped bass and squid, black sea bas and fluke, deep jigging with diamond jigs. I don’t feel trolling or bouncing live eels is very sporting.

pie: Unpatriotic as it might sound, I love deep dish cherry with the crumb top. Paired with a homemade vanilla bean ice cream. fruit:  I like peaches. The soft blushed curve, the crisp bite, the way it runs juicy out of your mouth. Fresh picked off the tree. I like guava too, passion fruit but don’t tell my sister. She’ll gloat. ice cream flavor: It’d be a toss up between English Tea Time which is black tea-infused vanilla with bits of shortbread in it, or maybe Cardamom black pepper, in a ginger-citrus base. I prefer cone to cup, and I’m not the kind that needs sprinkles, whipped cream, and stuff like that. Best cooking dip whether it’s dessert or dinner is to keep it simple. breakfast food: I’ve always tried to make sure Beth got a decent breakfast, things like pancakes and waffles, eggs and hash browns, fresh fruit. The chow in the Air Force tended to reinforce that because out of all the branches, it was the best. So when our schedules mix, that’s what we have. And when I’ve got work, then it’s a pot of coffee, a couple antacid tabs, and maybe one of them eggy muffin things with the hockey puck ‘egg’, bacon and cheese. alcoholic drink: Macallan 25 neat, three fingers.  soda flavor: Can’t go wrong with Coke, right? scent: Like personally? I love the smell of gun oil and leather, engine grease and summer grass with a hint of whiskey. As a cologne? something crisp or woodsy. On a woman? Depending on her skin chemistry something like Ed Hardy’s For Women, Azzaro’s Wanted Girl, or Tresor. Okay I really like Tresor. Like press my face into the curve her neck or her décolletage and breathe it in without trying to lick at...…anyway.  flowers: I like sunflowers, dandelions, daisies. But like that’s not really my area of expertise. When I put a bouquet together for someone, I consider her likes, her personality and go from there. animal: Dogs are cool movie: Tombstone tv show: I don’t really watch TV but that Brooklyn 99 thing is pretty funny.  book: How Much for Just the Planet by John M. Ford which was a hilarious Star Trek novel, if I am interested in something light. Or Neal Stephenson’s Anathem. What? I read. fairy tale: The Steadfast Tin Soldier and the Ballerina. genre of music: I like the blues, and classic rock. But I just like music in general. genre of movies: Westerns genre of books:  Scifi

Pick one.

hot or cold: Hot juice or soda: Soda tv or movie: Movie movie or book: Book late night talk shows or reality tv: Uh. Neither. {Talk shows, the trashier the better} twitter or Instagram: Instagram trees or flowers: Trees philosophy or psychology: Psychology ocean or lake: Lake water park or amusement park: Amusement Park {Particularly Coney Island back in the day} cats or dogs: Dogs fresh water or sparkling water: Tonic Water sugar or honey: Sugar cookies or candy: Cookies bath or shower: Bath morning or night: Night running or walking: Running piercings or tattoos: Tats frozen yogurt or ice cream: Ice cream vanilla or chocolate: Vanilla caramel or butterscotch: Caramel art or music: …Music t-shirt or button down: Either, depends on the occasion. text or call: Text ghosts or aliens: Aliens

Have they ever.

ridden a motorcycle: Yes, own one stolen something: I mean I think this is a very morally grey area. eaten an entire pizza by themselves: Who hasn’t? made a prank call: Absolutely broken a bone: Oh look, it’s a funny bitch.  fallen asleep during a concert or movie: Yes walked out of a movie because it was so bad: Yes been on the phone with someone for longer than 2 hours: On the Regular. dined & dashed: Wow, people do that? No. held a gun: For longer than I care to think about. Carrying two now, in fact. ding dong ditched: Yes gone skinny dipping: Yes cried during a movie: Fun fact, I have never cried in my entire life. smuggled food into a movie: Unfortunately. My sister is incredibly picky. lied to get a job: No practiced lines in front of a mirror: No.  tried to see how many marshmallows they can stuff in their mouth at once: who hasn’t. The record so far is 23 of the jumbo ones. been kicked out of somewhere: Yes been on a blind date: Yes. ghosted someone: No comment bragged about something they haven’t done: No said i love you without meaning it: No gotten in a fight: ~laughs~ fallen asleep on a bus: I’m a soldier. I can fall asleep anywhere, any time, ever.

Miscellaneous.

how do they take their tea or coffee: Strong, black, two sugars, and if possible, a shot or two of whiskey in it. what is their ideal date: Depends on who I’m taking out, you know? But just for myself? A rented out Michelin star restaurant, followed by an evening at a blues or jazz club. Maybe a little dancing, or alternatively, going somewhere we can look out over the city lights and talk. followed by coffee and dessert or a night cap, and then I would escort my date home. Because I’m a fucking gentleman. what are some of their guilty pleasures: Oh honey, if you feel guilty about it, it ain’t a pleasure. longest they’ve stayed up for: 78 Hours. Mission Classified. greatest talent: That’s classified. strange habits: Taking my leg off at night and having to use crutches or belly crawl? Let my sister sleep in bed with me? People say we’re codependent. can they do a handstand: If ordered to.

can they cook: I’m a beast in the kitchen, on a grill, or behind a bar. do they have allergies: Bullshit maybe, but otherwise, no. do they believe in love in first sight: No. have any special talents: I can field strip an M4 Carbine or an M9 in under 45 seconds to a minute. I can hold my breath for seven minutes. And before the Accident, I could literally fly.

stolen from: my dash stolen by: you

[heli0s-writes]

As it Was II: His Girl

Summary: You haven’t always been his girl. Pairing: Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader A/N: ANGST! Thank you for all the feedback and love! As it Was will be a 3 part series. Part 2 is told from Bucky’s perspective. See you next time for Part 3 :)

It’s always relief that washes over him first when he pulls into the road, seeing the house the same as when he left. The pinwheels, the mailbox, the swing you shove him into even though you know he doesn’t fit.

His playful girl with a stubborn streak.

It’s been two weeks without his girl and his home. He’s been on longer missions, but two weeks is two weeks too long, just as they all are.

The second emotion he feels is anticipation. Excitement for the embrace he’ll give and receive. The kisses, the fingers through his hair, the knowledge that you will be rushing downstairs and into his arms.

Sundown arrives late in the evening when summertime’s daylight spans nearly fifteen hours in the heat of June. The meadow buzzes alive in the breeze, ruffling winged insects through the tufts of wild grass and blown dandelions. His boots tread through the path, startling the idyllic soil beneath them.

There are no footsteps to herald his return, today; Bucky comes home to your back in front of the kitchen window. The door creaks open as he steps in, duffel bag in tow. He always imagines he would surprise you after these long trips, but that damn door and its loud hinges will never allow him the chance.

“Darlin’?” He calls, pushing it shut gently with his foot, “You alright?”

You turn, chin tucked into the hollow space of your collarbone and shoulder. The loosened braid of your hair sways over your spine, saffron half-wilted blossoms of Black-Eyed Susans gazing at him sadly.

The setting sun scatters against the window, streams through those sheer embroidered curtains you love so much, even though he says baby, they don’t do anything. His stubborn girl scoffs and fluffs then anyway.

He’s glad for those useless curtains now as the light illuminates your side profile. The corona of your shape from across the house makes him sigh in wonder.

His girl, wrapped in floating cream gauze. His girl, standing by the sink with oranges. His girl, soft and beautiful and bright, waiting for him.

You haven’t always been soft.

You haven’t always been his girl.

He knows something is wrong when you remain immobile, clutching the edge of the counter, abandoned cup of hand-squeezed juice and the carcasses of two halves next to the reamer.

“Honey? I’m coming over to you. Stay right there.”

You collapse in his arms before he gets the chance to lock them around. You smell crisp and clean, just a little briny with sweat from time spent outside. The jars on the counter and table are full again, this time accented with plucked sprigs of lavender and a small cattail from the pond.

“Oh, Buck,” You press your face into his shoulder, scrubbing your brow on the rough fabric of his jacket, “I love you.”

“Love you too.” He pauses, fingers prodding lightly over your body, searching for some physical aspect that might explain your ailment. Nothing. You hold tighter to him, letting your weight press down, and he supports you easily, nose rubbing the exposed skin of your neck.

“Where’s our little guy?”

“He’s sleeping. He chased ducks and then they chased him. Planted completely in mud. Bath time was… exhausting.”

Both of you chuckle at that. Little James, that precious boy had a rowdy streak in him, always too eager to rile something up— sometimes even his mother.

The laughter subsides as he continues to rub your back, waiting patiently for the other shoe to drop. Your heartache seeps into him, dampens his eyes and mouth, licking its way into his belly.

This happens, sometimes, because it’s bound to. The grief comes and goes, and when it arrives hard and grim, he cradles you in his arms regardless of how much he wishes his love is enough to keep you happy.

Today seems to be one of those days.

And it’s because you haven’t always been his girl.

He used to worry himself to sleep, straining to see your outline in the deep darkness of the bedroom. The house, sheltered by tree and leaves, lies so far away from the city that on a moonless night, he felt lost in a sea of ink.

The house once belonged to someone else. His place in the bed, too. The impression of a body larger than him, grander than him, a body you loved more than him. It would cradle him in its unsympathetic crease, and he would lie awake, listen to your deep breaths, soothe your nightmare sobbing, call your name when you would stutter Steve.

Steve. Steve. Steve.

The shadow that had hung over you both.

Steve was always ‘til the end of the line, until he wasn’t.

He wasn’t for Bucky, and he wasn’t for you.

Bucky had come back into the world five years later, found you and Steve elbow deep in the trenches of alien bodies and death—watched a love that had bloomed so fully continue to thrive, and it gave him hope.

Hope for himself, hope for the next day. Until it just… wasn’t.

Steve left Bucky, and Steve left you.

The cabin that evening had been illuminated by a single campfire in the front yard. The smell of burning objects and scorched kindling coaxed him forward. In front of the blaze, you stood, hair fixed into a tight knot. That shaved side he always liked glowed orange and red diagonal lines.

You knew, of course, way before he even arrived. You were always the quickest of them— alert, perched, could give Clint’s arrows a run for his money.

Hey.

He had never heard that gravel in your voice before.

In the flames were photographs, corners eaten away and twisted with heat until they turned black. Clothes, bed sheets, books, even the sketchbook— that old, leather-bound thing Steve always kept close to his chest. You had thrown them all in.

Wanna roast some marshmallows? Let’s get fat on sugar and chocolate. The world is safe.

A spark crackled in the fire the same time your voice did, but Bucky closed his eyes. Let you regain your composure because he knew you wouldn’t have wanted him to see you cry. Your voice was strained, full of resentment.

Everyone’s gone back to where they should be.

He smiled, lopsided and broken.

Not me. I’m here eatin’ marshmallows with you.

And then, joylessly, you had pointed to the dwindling pile of Steve’s fossils strewn about.

Throw some shit in. It feels good.

Your hand links itself inside of his as you tug him out of the kitchen and towards the living room couch. You place the glass into his palm, watch him drink the juice and kiss the corner of his mouth where a droplet remains. He loves it when you’re sweet, told you once it’s his favorite thing about you—that you can rot his teeth and hurt his stomach and he’ll still come back for seconds.

Thirds. Fourths. You scoffed, fixed on the anecdote of food, your appetite will bankrupt us.

He agreed then, kept the joke running.

“What is it?” Bucky’s hand finds your jaw, lifts it gently until he can see your eyes crawling with veins and lined in red, puffed, swollen. Crying again. “What is it, hon?”

Since James, you’ve started crying a million times more than he ever thought a person could—when he gets a fever, you cry. When he falls, you cry. He thinks it’s ridiculous, that you—his girl who can stab a man better even than he can—that when James cries, you cry. Darling, he is two and he will cry because a leaf dropped.

But you haven’t cried like this in months, almost a year—not like this, not split open and prolonged.

Bucky heart swells with dread when he thinks about why your face is raw with rubbing. “Is it?”

“Yeah.” You mutter, “Steve… he’s back. Stopped by earlier.”

His tongue feels like lead, sinking into his throat to strangle him. He hadn’t heard Steve’s name from your mouth in almost a year. The world had turned and turned without Steve Rogers, and when it seemed like both of you might have finally let go of the ghost, he comes back.

Where does Bucky start?

His girl, burrowed into his chest, tucked away in his arms, hides her face now. His girl, will she still be his girl?

It was only a few years ago that a new love sprung from the ashes of a dying one. And the corpse had lived a long life, full of memories that haunted you both. Bucky and Steve had quite a long life together, too.

He clutches tighter, rubs his arms up and down yours, squeezes like he is hoping you might just sink into his chest. Stay safe inside of him where the pain can’t find you anymore.

“Can we go to bed?” You sob suddenly, shaking in his hold, “Please let’s go to bed.”

He hated that bed for so long.

You used to lie in it for days at a time. He would come by and you would be upstairs in the loft on your side and staring out the window. Hey, Buck. The whole house smelled like earth and salt, as if you had flooded the wood with tears and it was still drying out.

Have you eaten? Have you slept? Have you done anything?

You only laughed dryly and burrowed deeper into the brand-new sheets, like everything else that used to be shared between two people. Do what? Go where? Sleep to dream of him? No, thank you.

Bucky had stomped downstairs, rummaged through the cabinets, found the half open bag of marshmallows from three weeks ago- stale and slightly stiff, and shoved handfuls of it into your mouth. You said we’d get fat on sugar. You better fucking eat this.

When both your cheeks were full and the sad tears turned into happy ones, he sat back with his arms crossed at the edge of the bed and huffed. And you’d spit the enormous, drenched, sticky pile out down your shirt and held your head in both your hands. I’m so fucked, Bucky. I’m screwed. I’m fucking screwed.

He didn’t know what you meant, because he was grieving too, but that string of panicked statements rang a thought more desperate than any he could have. Bucky didn’t feel fucked without Steve. Bucky felt… discarded. He felt… abandoned, forgotten, small. But he didn’t feel fucked.

It took two more visits, two more weeks, and an extraordinarily rainy night before you told him the truth.

There was shattered glass against the wall and your body slumped down on the opposite side of the kitchen. There was wracked sobbing, fingernails digging into your scalp and shoulder until he peeled them away pricked in red. Two months had passed, and you were pregnant. Did Steve know? Did you tell him? He would have stayed, if he knew.

Bucky had suddenly grown hopeful for a past that already passed. Steve would have stayed. Did the chance slip from you, to tell him? Did you know too late?

I had just found out. But then he told me his news first and … fuck him. Fuck him for leaving. Why would I tell him? So he could stay for a clump of cells and not me? So he could love an obligation and pine for a ghost? Fuck him.

And then suddenly, the clawing resumed, and Bucky wrestled to keep your hands away from your body, wrapping his legs over yours, holding you tight until your squirming died. He pressed his chin to the top of your head, gripped your back to his chest, and you both rocked on the floor. It’s gonna be okay. I got you. I’m here with you.

It rained the night you told him. It rained again when the boy arrived.

Nine months you carried him inside of you, hated him, hated his father, hated yourself.

Helen came to the cabin, because you couldn’t be bothered to leave. You were happy to die in labor, you had said with a grin. Bucky stood by her side, mouth set in a firm line and told you to shut the fuck up.

At that, you genuinely laughed so hard you had to cover your entire face with your hands and when you pulled them away, suddenly, Bucky thought that the glow some women get when they’re pregnant must have been twice as true for you.

The boy came with a clap of thunder.

Bucky had known carnage, but the birth was terrible and horrific and when you went pale with the loss, he swore that if you got what you wanted, he would die with you. Helen yelled at him to get the water, get the rags, and the bucket, and the needle. Wash the boy, wrap him, hustle, Sergeant!

The bundle thrust into his arms was softer than sand, wetter than water, crimson and sluiced with blood. Two blue eyes gleamed out of the swath of blanket and even though people say newborns are beautiful, he could only see a red and angry thing, tearing the life from you with the eyes of his old best friend.

Now his old best friend has returned for his old girl and his new baby boy.

And Bucky’s girl is still in his arms, pleading for him to let her rest.

“Okay, darlin’, let me clean up first. I’ll tuck you in.”

You grip his collar and tangle your hands in his hair, clambering to get into his lap. The skirt of your dress folds over all four entwined legs and you suddenly press your mouth to his in a blistering kiss.

“Let’s make a baby,” you sob distraughtly. “W-we… I-I want to make a baby with you, Bucky.”

He quiets your rambling, stills his own heartbreak for the sake of attending to yours, and returns your fever with softness.

“We’ve got one, hon’. He’s in bed.” He presses his forehead against yours and smiles, tries to make it look real so that you believe him, “Baby, we got a boy and he’s wonderful, even if he makes his mama chase him through mud.”

He loves that boy. He loves him like his own flesh and blood, and he’ll be damned if Steve thinks he can take him away.

Upstairs, a whine signals your attention, followed by a sound of choked crying before the wail of your son breaks loose. “C’mon,” Bucky urges.

He climbs slowly, waiting for you each step of the way. You linger, feet heavy along with your heart. By the time you make it through the doorway, Bucky already has James in his arms, rubbing his back, humming to him.

The boy fists Bucky’s hair, squeezing a handful in pulses, blubbering and singing a tuneless song. “Daddy’s home. Daddy, daddy. Sunnyshine outside.”

Bucky laughs, “James, it’s nighttime.” He kisses the top of James’ head anyway, “Can’t blame you, though, you’re too small to see out the window. We gotta teach you how to tell time.”

“Time t’ play?”

“No… time to go back to sleep.” Then, Bucky puts his head on top of James’ and pretends to snore loudly, the sound vibrating from his chest and into those golden locks. A shrill giggle escapes him and he pulls away just to come back and press his cheeks to his father’s face.

Bucky walks over to where you stand with your eyes pressed to the heel of your palms and tilts James up to your face. “Mama’s tired too, let’s all go to bed, yeah?”

Blessedly, the boy relents. He reaches over almost teetering out of Bucky’s arms and pulls on the thumb by your ear. “Night mama, love you.”

 On the edge of the bed, the old imprint has been pressed out. Bucky takes off his shoes, stretches his back and motions for you to come next to him. He kisses your fingertips and brushes the hair from your face, combs out the wilted wildflowers and you lean into his touch.

It’s been silent since James fell asleep. He can hear crickets and cicadas outside the window, woodland creatures coming alive in the twilight.

He watches the way your lips bend and fold inside your mouth to keep yourself locked away.

Sometimes your love is hidden inside a puzzle his hands are too clumsy to place together. There are pieces missing, he thinks, but still, he tries. Sometimes you blissfully help him with the task and sometimes you’re away from the table.

Tonight, you’re far from him. Lost somewhere in the memory and possibility of two hands many times more delicate than his.

Steve. Steve. Steve.

And he wonders if your heart will ever beat his name like that old rhythm it had known so well.

Your weight dips the mattress, and you lean your head onto his shoulder. “I love you.”

He hears it, but he never really hears it.

Not in the way it used to leave your tongue. Stevie, I love you. You giant idiot! You meatball, Steve! Full of ringing laughter right before you would crush your mouth to his, tug him by the collar into the dark of Cap’s compound bedroom.

The only flames Bucky knew were shared in moments of desperation, when the pain was too much and the fire was necessary.

James tucked into his crib, you crumpled on the floor. Bucky would sit by your side night after night, as he had been doing for the last thirteen months. It was dark, then, not even illuminated by a moonbeam.

You held on to his shirt, pushed him down, pressed both your hands to his neck and whispered. Thank you. Thank you. I love you. I love you.

The first kiss shared was wet and salty, tears slipping into the space between two open mouths. Teeth clicked, nails scratched, and you wouldn’t even let him pull away enough to ask if you were sure about it.

He knew you were beautiful. Seen it for years and years. But when you slipped off the shirt from your shoulders, the moon seemed to shine right out from your skin.

He worried himself to sleep next to you that night.

 “What do you want to do?” He asks now, pushing his fear away, “I’m here for you, whatever you want. Whatever is best.”

Your chin jabs his shoulder, “You are best. You are best for me, and James, and Bucky—d--” Tears roll down your cheeks, plop big, wet, crystal balls onto his arm. “Don’t you dare.”

For the second time that night, you crawl into his lap, straddle his waist, and his breath is punched out of his lungs in awe of your beauty. “I love you, idiot. Don’t ever say that to me again.”

“Alright, sweetheart,” he mumbles against your mouth, “I won’t.”

The flame burns tonight. You undress him with deft fingers, yanking his clothes, hissing when he pulls away to peel the shirt off— as if not touching him pains you. The dress stays on your waist, rucked up, its straps tugged down and the top pulled open to expose your chest—soft, heaving with love and agony.

Bucky. Bucky. I love you. I love you. I love you so much.

Desperate, again.

He’s not sure if you’re convincing him or yourself.

You tug his hair, grip his chest and back, kiss him until his head spins. The bed creaks softly, as if it doesn’t want to interrupt the sounds that your bodies create together.

He makes love to you, and even though he is bone tired from the mission and the drive, he doesn’t feel it until you tremble in his arms and slump against his chest. He doesn’t attend to himself until you’re underneath the covers, breathing deeply.

Then, Bucky lies down too, runs his hand through his hair and sobs into that inky night.

“Bucky?”

His heart stops beating in his chest. He’s frozen and caught.

You turn on your side, hand finding his damp cheek with some difficulty in the dark. “Baby,” you sigh, “Oh, Bucky...” A loud sniffle, a choke, and then your nose rubs against his. Your lips pat his tears away, kitten licks over the line of his sharp jaw.

“You’ve always been so good to me, baby. Always so good.”

 He’s heard those words before from your lips, after the boy came with the rain. Your eyes had fluttered and closed as Helen leaned against the doorframe, tearing off her gloves.

She’s okay, Sergeant. She’s just resting. You should, too.

He refused her, watched the baby in the makeshift bassinet as Helen unpacked her overnight bag in the guest room. He wiped your forehead with a damp towel, listened to the rain crash against the window, and sat down in the chair.

The room was a closed chamber trapping in the smell of wet pennies and sweat. He tugged the windowpane open and placed towels on the floor to catch the downpour. You woke with a yelp, jerked awake by thunder and a streak of lightning. It was only for a second, but Bucky held onto your hand, let you slip back to sleep.

Helen roused you both in the morning, let you hold the baby, taught you how to turn him on his stomach, how to settle him down, how to nurse. Bucky had stood up, ready to dismiss himself before he caught your wide eyes, terrified of the life in your arms.

He stayed as Helen guided your hand to massage the boy’s cheek. Little fists clenched the slipped-off hem of your shirt, his mouth opened, and you cried when he latched on.

The rain had subsided in the late hours of the night and the sun was rising high, streaming luminously into the loft. Helen moved to draw the curtains and give you some reprieve from the rays, but Bucky stopped her; you needed the sun and its warmth.

She nodded and agreed, and he slowly went to the bed and kneeled, looking up into your red eyes soaking your face.

Hey. He had smiled, wiping the trickling streams, Look. He nodded to the illuminated window, bent finger stroking the boy wrapped in cloth. No more rain, darlin’, it’s sunny out.

Outside was gold. Like the boy’s head. And you thought, like Bucky’s heart.

You’re so good to me. You cried, even though he quietly asked you to stop, because if you didn’t, he would start, too. You’ve always been so good to me.

Nine agonizing months and Bucky Barnes had been your rock and center and lighthouse in the dark.

Bucky, I love you.

It was a sunny morning when he wept and held his little family in his arms.

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