#extra scruffy cupcake

[ludinusdaleth]

I am literally ALWAYSS thinking about Matt saying Essek smelled musky when they met him in campaign 3. Even if he was a pretty boi in campaign 2 I think hes a proper MAN now

Campaign 2 beginning transition transman Essek. Campaign 3, transman who's been in the game long enough to be comfy with a beard and long hair both, and doesn't mind if his pits are a bit huffable (Calebs sure are, no shame in it). And definitelyyyyyyyyyy a big hairy belly. Maybe he was chubby b4 but he is a proper, proper fat boi now

i really love this anon. there is nothing so relieving & refreshing as takes on essek that arent twinkish but rather embrace that hes a bit rough around the edges now. i was honestly shocked matt chose to explicitly say essek smelled like he hadnt showered, because in the past hes acted like elves dont "ripen", but im very glad for the progress. look, theres nothing inherently morally wrong about lithe twink essek, but im so tired of him being held to a fandom standard that acts like hes a graceful eternal 18 year old, rather than embracing that hes a disaster and a man over a hundred years old, worthy of caleb, a middle aged man's, time.

while i dont think essek could or would ever be masc on the level of a bodybuilder, i really love the idea of him being bearish, simultaneously weathered by being on the run often but also spoilt by caleb & jester. made soft(er) by love & attention he's definitely happy to recieve (ft. a million different cupcakes ordered to his door by jester, with extra dust of deliciousness on top), and aged & hardened by the days he isnt with family. essek with a belly in particular just makes me so happy to imagine; imagining him curled into his mantle whilst traveling only to relax, take off his gear, and instinctively plop his belly on the counter - only to blush blue when he realizes what he did, caleb with an eyebrow raised in amusement. also as you said too, i imagine him with at least a decent amount of fur - something about the shock of white on his face & chest & belly feels like perfect character design to me. he grows his hair out because of how distracted he is and to connect with kryn heritage both, and finds it frames his scruffy double chin well. soon his face carries a beautiful snowy beard.

eadwulf notices the drow getting hairier & bigger every time they meet and glances at caleb with a look that says "are you trying to sample what it was like to be with me, bren?" essek initially blushes against his will. eventually he learns to adjust his clothes slightly so wulf can see hes gained 20 lbs. wulf does the same with his belly, 50lbs heftier. now it's calebs turn to blush.

[fountainpenguin]

"Gather up your tears; keep 'em in your pocket...."

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I saw that we were short on Captain Tangent 'fics, so I wrote one... with no dialogue. Enjoy the boy!

“A penny for your thoughts (Oh no)”

Read on AO3

Character study series

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This was meant to be 2k words, but my OG opening line got pushed nearly 5k down by impromptu tangents and honestly I wouldn't have it any other way.

(First 1,000[+] words under the cut)

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For "safety reasons," Connor spends his whole 4th grade year with Uncle Bill, Aunt Josie, and his 6-year-old cousin Lilith. It's quite the adjustment. He's almost taller than all three of them (separately- not combined), even though his next growth spurt hasn't kicked in yet. Yeah, puberty's been taking its sweet time with that. He's started sprouting blond stubble down his legs and under his arms, but the extra hair is all he has to show for himself so far.

Rapid hair growth actually runs in the family. His dad used to sport a full, fuzzy beard. You know, both his parents have always had hairy arms and legs. It's fun to watch goosebumps prickle up in waves. Mom's arm does that when they watch scary movies together. Like Duskrunners: an enchanting tale of psychological horror and mystery! First filmed in 1944, directed by Cora J. Williams. The lead actress and actor later got married, even though they both died onscreen in much too gruesome of a way for a young boy to see. But it was fun!

Connor's been scruffy ever since he was a kid. He's still a kid, freshly 10 years old (His birthday flew past him in September) - but, well… you know. Once when he was young and roaming the beach with shovel and pail, he even overheard a little girl whisper to her mother, asking why he had "fur" all down his back. It's just how genetics dealt his hand. He also has poor teeth, but that's partly his own fault. He devours all sorts of sweets, especially from the arcade's prize counter or the coin dispenser machines at the front of the grocery store. You can find all sorts of hard candy there. His favorite flavor's cherry, but it wasn't always. For the last three years, he's leaned towards grape. Before that, he liked blueberry. Something about strong fruity flavors just tickles his fancy.

Though, there's definitely something to be said about cotton candy. A single lick always conjures up memories of exploring the amusement park, hand in hand with Dad while Mom snapped pictures with one of the dozen disposable cameras she carried around. Actually, dozen is a bit of a misconception. She had eight of those cameras. Gifts from her mother-in-law, they were. She rarely uses them anymore.

Not because she doesn't like her mother-in-law. Actually, they've always gotten along great. Connor's even named after her: his Granny Connie. There's an interesting story he can tell about her: Granny Connie thrived as the best swimmer on her high school team in her younger years. She won every contest. Her backyard stood full of conifers, and she even kept a pet conure as a kid. And she might have been a part-time con-woman. Not sure; her stories can be a little convoluted. One thing he does remember quite clearly is the way Granny Connie often said that telling stories reminded her of baking bread. Sometimes you have to let them sit and leave them there to rise. What a listener chooses to do with their freshly cut slice of bread after that is entirely up to them.

Sometimes Connor counts himself lucky to be blond. It was inevitable, of course. Both his parents have light-colored hair. It means he can see himself quite well in their old pictures- even the black and white ones. It feels familiar. Mom always says he looks just like she did back in her day. Undoubtedly true. See, Mom's always been as honest as a piggy bank. Her paintings reflect this; the landscapes she dabbles in shine without exaggeration. She gave up lying a long time ago, back when he was but a wee boy hoping for a cookie or cupcake in the evenings. The thing is, she often needs to think before she answers him. Her hands stall in completely different ways before she answers him in truth versus when she's lightly fibbing. He's picked up on that and she'll never pull one over him again.

Not that her lies have ever been cruel, by any means. Oh, goodness no. The fact is, Mom's all so very sensitive with her praise. He might be too, in her position; she's both an artist and an art critic. Makes her cranky sometimes. But really, she's the most supportive woman he could ask for as a mother. He and Ruth both love her dearly. Ruth's his half-sister, away at university right now. Sometimes she calls. She's quite busy at the moment, though. Seems like she's dating someone new every couple weeks, but at least the revolving door of potential partners always bring along exciting stories.

You wouldn't guess it if you only knew his mom, but Connor's been classed as "the tall one" ever since his birth. Entirely true! No embellishment necessary. He and Ruth always stand in the middle or back row of the extended family photos. The pictures hanging here in his aunt and uncle's hallway are proof of that. They have six photos- one for every other year since they tied a knot together. Where that knot lies now, he isn't sure. Aunt Josie is an eldest daughter. A bit of a control freak, but nice enough. Needs everything kept ship-shape, though, and she'll tell you in those exact words.

Once, Connor actually did try to sit cross-legged on the floor with most of his cousins during a photo session. It didn't really pan out. At least, not any better than their interactions around the kids' table come Thanksgiving. There are three young sprouts blooming from his mom's side and four on his dad's. Plus half a dozen more from Mom's first husband, but the Harrisons are certainly a wily bunch and even he can barely keep up with them. They seem to multiply like rabbits. Or was it rats?

No, definitely rabbits. Also through the Harrison side of his family, he and Ruth proudly claim connection with an estranged second cousin named Flynn who's been parasailing in fourteen different countries… or possibly more than that by now. All his cousins have such a varied range of interests that it's a wonder they all grew up in the same family. One of his cousins likes race cars. Two of them - they're twins - know more about dinosaurs than Connor ever will, even if he studies bones for the rest of his life. That's not to say he isn't fond of bones. He's always admired a good museum or aquarium exhibit depicting hulking skeletal beasts suspended on cable and twine. Though, he does know the difference between a tarsal and a metatarsal, so perhaps it's a worthy field of study to investigate as he grows older. What's that line of research called again? Paleontology?

You know, Connor was never into dinosaurs or race cars as a kid. He liked scaling trees, playing croquet, splashing through the creek, catching lizards and grasshoppers, and all sorts of adventuring like that. He used to scratch his legs up real good in the process. Er… real bad. Badly? Either way, Mom always sent him to rinse off when he came stumbling back home. Sometimes he'd even be hopping on one leg. Showers are never a delightful way to spend his free time, but it's a necessary cruelty; infection's no fun for anybody. She'd make a game of it. And it worked for them; she'd pay attention to him instead of to her art. Connor could talk to her one-sidedly while she looked him over, smearing rubbing alcohol up and down his legs with her palm. She'd kiss him on the forehead and ruffle his hair before he went romping off again, dragging a stuffed toy or a kite behind him.

[Cnt'd on AO3 - Link at top]

[oculusxcaro]

🍳 [Rorschach will beat up Khare's landlord for being a creep and a lazy slob (งಠل͜ಠ)ง ]

Send a 🍳 and my muse will cook something for you

Ever since the landlord came back from hospital, life had improved considerably. Things had stopped disappearing from her apartment other than the snacks that Khare left specifically for Rorschach to enjoy whenever he needed to lay low for an hour or two or the use of utilities he couldn't access out on the streets. She didn't mind, even when he didn't clean up after himself because it wasn't that big of a deal and she'd come to adore him as a friend. Khare wondered briefly how things might have turned out had she never ran into the masked vigilante. It wasn't a pleasant thought, not after some of the close calls she'd had that had been prevented because of him, be it because of his street smarts and natural disposition to violence making him right at home in a city as unfriendly as Gotham. As aloof as Rorschach could be, she did consider him a friend, a good one and wanted to do something nice for him, but what? Food was always a good choice since the man never carried anything other than the bare necessities, not trusting anything but canned food he could carry around. More tins of food wouldn't be turned away, she imagined, but maybe he'd like something else? Cold tins of beans day in and day out had to get boring, even if he didn't seem to like other foods very much. Khare perked up. There was something Rorschach liked very much, not the healthiest thing exactly but something she had easy access to - sugar. Rorschach loved sweet things, she'd even caught him sucking on sugar cubes, making her think about the sorrel horse she'd grown up watching back home in Hull. The next time she went to Pauli's Diner, Khare had a plan. A simple enough plan that should Rorschach pay a visit tonight, she'd have something nice for him to try - Vanilla Cupcakes with Buttercream Frosting. It wasn't a regular item on the menu but other than the buttercream frosting used for other desserts, a few eggs, sticks of butter and flour wouldn't go amiss in the kitchens. Besides, she needed the icing piper to be able to put the buttercream frosting on top, which was what she suspected Rorschach would be more interested in than the cupcake itself. With fresh vanilla buttercream whipped and whirled, the time came to pipe the stuff on top when the familiar *ting* of the diner entrance caught her attention. "Just a sec, I'll be right with you!" Khare called out as she washed her hands quickly, breaking out into a smile when she saw it was Rorschach. He was in his disguise, hard-lined face impassive as he approached the counter in the same manner he always did. His face free of the scruffy beginnings of a beard marked him as the culprit of the mess in her bathroom the other morning when she came home from work but Khare wasn't thinking to reprimand the man about the untidy way he'd left the place, rather that she had something important to share... "Hey Walter, long time no see! We've got some tins out in the kitchen if you'd like to take them off our hands but we just finished baking too if you'd like something fresh out of the oven? One time special per customer tonight, and since you're the first..." Khare said, retrieving the bag of canned beans along with a plated cupcake topped with extra buttercream. "Thought you might like something different from beans for a change, at no extra charge."

[biff-adventurer]

FFXIVWRITE 2023 - Prompt #3: Extra Credit - DOLLS

“Have you heard of the new FC that opened down the road?” asked Pudada, pouring her second cup of tea. “It’s a beautiful, pink manor with white accents. There was a pool in the yard! And everyone seemed to be having a good time in it. Though, I’m not sure having a pool in the front was the best idea. What if someone peered through the gates at those poor girls?”

“Oh, they seem a hardy lot to me,” purred H’zula, picking a cupcake from the tray. “They were catcalled by one of the Unicorns. The leader suddenly appeared, as though summoned by a thought! And then the Unicorn… went home with a broken nose.”

“I like the punching one,” said Zia who, for once, was not referring to Biff. The little cabbage fairy plucked H’zula’s cupcake nearly out of his mouth. “Punching one has spirit. Punching one always smiles and never lets other walking ones anger her!”

“I’ll admit, I like a strong woman,” concurred H’zula, reaching for his pilfered prize. Zia floated up to the ceiling fan, settling on one of its wings to munch in peace. The Miqo’te sighed.

“Oh… I know who yer talkin’ about.” Biff looked up from his tomestone as it blinked its frivolous lights off. His mussed hair and state of (un)dress, along with the childlike interest on his face, suggested his need for coffee the highest at the table–except that he was surrounded by mugs, and fidgeting like an old, allagan device receiving an endless stream of commands. “That’s Barbara’s FC. The DOLLS.”

“The… dolls?” Pudada tilted her head. “I’ve never heard of them. They were a beautiful bunch of ladies, certainly! You know her personally?”

“Scruffy one knows all ones,” said Zia with a sagely nod.

“What do you know about them?” asked H’zula, suddenly so interested he was leaning forward, resting his chin on a downturned hand. “Did you used to date Barbara?”

“I’m sure I’d remember her if he had,” muttered Pudada.

“No, no. It ain’t dolls. It’s DOLLS, like.” Biff set his tomestone on the table. He gesticulated for emphasis. “Dangerous Outrageous Loot Lovers. Their leader’s name is Barbara Milicent Handler. She’s the one with the hair.” So saying, he pulled fingers through his own hair, puffing it up.

H’zula snorted. Pudada couldn’t help but smile.

“I don’t remember seeing anyone with a hair-do like that,” said Pudada, “for I’m certain I would remember her!”

“Scruffy one misleads adventuring ones!” Zia huffed. They crumpled up their paper cup and threw it at H’zula’s head. “Blonde one, with long, beautiful hair and large, blue eyes is leading one! Leading one’s hair is big, but not scruffy like scruffy one’s!”

“I jes meant she has nice hair!” Biff pouted. “She’s been workin’ hard tae build that FC. Since a’fore the Final Days. But, y’know, not just anyone can enter.”

“Ahh, so there are standards?” H’zula fished the crumpled cup out of his luxurious, chestnut hair. “Just how high have they set them?”

“I can’t get in,” said Biff. He reached for the tea kettle, but Pudada slapped at his large, meaty man mitts with her dainty, Lalafellin hands and their pink painted fingertips.

“You must tell us why,” she urged. “I don’t know a thing about them! Neither does Ayame or Leodaire or Athey! I would write S’dennmo, but married life keeps her busy, as you know!”

H’zula chuckled. “I’m sure Zia knows.”

“This one knows,” said Zia, “but this one won’t tell!”

“It ain’t nothin’ special,” said Biff, rubbing his eyes. “Make me another cup an’ I’ll tell ye!”

“You told us never to let you get the jitters!” cried Pudada. “And now you have them behind our back!”

“Alright, alright!” The mess of a midlander sat upright and stretched his arms. “I’m gettin’ restless anyroad. Barbara, she won’t let in anybody that calls himself a man.”

“That’s it?” Pudada stared.

“I can’t say I blame her,” sighed H’zula, admiring a new pastry in his hand. “Men are the worst. I would know, as a man.”

“Exactly!” said Biff, pointing directly at H’zula. “Men are the WORST!”

Pudada looked between the two men with wide, wide eyes. When her gaze drifted to Zia, they simply shrugged. Then, a pregnant pause.

“Yes,” she said. “I suppose they really are.”

[kyleekhaos]

[lolabean1998]

This Better Work Part 2

Sweet Pea X OC

Summery; Hey guys, not sure how well this is going to go but I originally put it on Wattpad so its way long, but hopefully its not horrendous. Let me know what you think! So, it follows the story line kind of, it’s not exact but I have tried and it follows my OC Ali as she navigates through the hell that is Riverdale. Whilst struggling with financial, social and romantic difficulties, she has the added pressure of keeping up with school work and bonus of being thrown into the frightening world of the criminal underground.

Side Note; None of the gifs or pictures I use are mine, I’m not talented or smart enough to even begin an attempt at making my own. Thank you to those who have such abilities and if you don’t want me using them then please let me know so I can remove them for you. 

Word Count; 5,235 (Give or Take)

"Get in, we're picking up Izzy and dearest Mummy Masters before going on a girls afternoon at the spa!" Cheryl called from the driveway. Ali had spent her day filing paperwork, signing forms and reorganizing the stock room for the thousandth time. Alongside fixing the mistakes the apprentices made. It was fair to say she was stress and drained. She needed this spa evening.

"Cheryl Bombshell Blossom I Love you to the moon and back!" Ali cheered leaping from her desk and bolting through the door, waving good bye to the apprentice at the desk behind hers as she dived in besides Cheryl. 

"I know, I love you too." Cheryl replied, with a proud grin as she sped down the road towards Ali's house. 

It was nothing big or fancy, nor was it you typical northside house. Ali lived in an old stone cottage with large vines crawling up the side, the garden was flooded with life. Plants springing from every corner, it was small but cosy. Ali loved living there. Even though it was in desperate need of maintenance, it still felt like home and her uncle came around whenever he got the chance, to fix things and help around the house. Cheryl thought Ali's home was just what it should be, a home. There were photos of family and friends plastering the walls and it always smelt like cookies and home baking. Ali darted inside to jump in the shower ready to scrub wash away as much of the dirt and grime as she could. 

"Cheryl! So lovely to see you! We've just made red velvet cupcakes, want one?" Ali's mum greeted Cheryl embracing her in a big mum hug. Cheryl couldn't help but feel at home here. 

"Yes please, Mrs. Masters that would be lovely." She teased, taking a perfectly baked and decorated cupcake from the tray in front of her. 

"Oh, stop it. I've told you, call me Rosie please! Mrs. Masters makes me sound old." Rosie laughed giving her an amused scowl and placing a comforting hand on Cheryl’s arm before heading into the living room to tell Izzy it was time to go. 

The girls spent the evening relaxing drinking wine (lemonade for Izzy) and gossiping. Ali told them about the rumours she'd heard from different customers throughout the day, whilst Izzy told them all about the latest boy trouble in her year. It was the perfect end to a very stressful day. 

"Ali wake up. Ali wake up!" Izzy cheered excitedly, bouncing on the bottom of Ali's Bed. She lifted her head marginally from her pillow to glance over at the clock beside the vase filled with her favourite flowers. 8am. Ali flopped her head back onto her soft, blue pillow groaning as she pulled the pale blue duvet covers over her head. 

"Izzy it's 8am on a Sunday. This is my one day off!" Ali groaned sleepily into her pillow.

"Exactly Ali! It's your day off and you promised to help me and Sam with our science project! Please Ali! I made you tea and pancakes. Well mum made them, but I helped." Izzy beamed, her sweet innocence overwhelming Ali forcing her to get up like some twisted Jedi mind trick. She couldn't say no to her little sister. Slowly, she climbed out of bed throwing on a pair of scruffy, black, skinny jeans and a grey tank top over her black sports bra, grabbing a faded grey hoodie and the pair of fluffy neon orange socks Izzy had found for her before hopping down stairs. 

"You look like shit Ali!" Rosie stated handing her a large mug of tea and a plate of pancakes and blueberries.

"Thanks mum, good morning to you too." Ali replied sarcastically, laughing at her mothers no messing, straight to the point comment. Rosie handed Izzy a hair brush so she could start brushing her sisters insanely long and messy hair whilst Ali wolfed down her plateful of pancakes. Throwing her socks on and glugging down her tea in seconds.

"There you go Ali, mum showed me how to plait so I did your hair like Lara Croft! She's a Bad ass too!" Izzy grinned jumping down from her stool and running over to the front door to grab her helmet and Ali's combat boots. 

"Looks like you're off then Ali!" Rosie smiled gesturing to Izzy who was desperately trying to do the laces on her own combat boots. Ali thought it was cute that Izzy looked up to her so much. She even dressed like her. Izzy wore a pair of grey jeans and black t-shirt, paired with a black hoodie with a bright orange zip and tassels. That explains the socks. Ali thought as she wandered over to help Izzy tie her navy-blue combat boots.

"Oh, and I said I'd help Hog Eye balance the books for the Wyrm tonight. You should pop by and say hello." Rosie called as they threw on their helmets and fingerless leather gloves.

"All over it! Love you Mum!" The sisters called back in chorus before disappearing out the door and racing to the old Harley Davidson tucked away in its own little shed. That was the first thing to go up when they moved in. Before unpacking or doing any of the other usual moving house things people do. The Masters family spent the day choosing the perfect spot to build a shed for the Harley. 

"Hold on tight Izzy!" Ali called once Izzy tapped her shoulder giving her the ok. The girls sped off down the road heading towards the Sunday morning market in Greendale so they could grab some water balloons and the ingredients for s’mores. Though it was far too cold for a water fight, the girls agreed it would be a good distraction and make warming up by the fire all the more fun. 

Ali quickly parked the bike next to a bunch of others. Safety in numbers and what have you. Before swinging Izzy onto her back and sprinting off into the crowd to grab the supplies. They were quick and efficient with Ali grabbing the stuff they needed whilst Izzy counted out the cash and paid. The girls were finished and back at the bike in less than an hour. Packing the stuff in the bags either side of the seats laughing about a grouchy raven-haired boy they had bumped into on their way round.

"Maybe he was having a bad day!" Izzy thought as she sat on the back of the bike sipping her hot chocolate and looking over at the various array of bikes.

"You think maybe we should've bought him a hot chocolate to cheer him up?" Ali asked her sister. She loved spending time with her. Listening to the innocent, unfiltered comments that she came out with.

"With extra whipped cream and marshmallows!" Izzy agreed thinking back to the scowl hidden beneath a few strands of raven black hair. "He was crazy tall as well. So its not like he’s grumpy 'cos he couldn't reach the cookie jar!"

"Yeah he's like goliaths angry love child." Ali chuckled before her eyes shot wide open as it suddenly dawned on her. She quickly began scanning through the array of bikes until her gaze settled on the bike she had spent the previous night fixing up. 

"No freaking way! Izzy get over her with your printy camera thingy ma jig." She instructed, ushering towards the Harley she had fixed up.

"You mean my polaroid, but I'll let it slide. Why? What's up buttercup?" Izzy skipped over to the bike, puzzled by what was going on. 

"Jump on and strike a pose we are leaving this kid some crazy selfies to cheer him up." Ali replied, the determination in her voice was overpowering. 

Izzy climbed up on the bike and the girls began taking selfie after selfie, making a little sign with a piece of scrap paper in Ali's pocket and a permanent marker, that read 'Don't worry, you'll find your smile!'. They left the pile of selfies on the seat wrapped in a pretty, floral paper bag with a pack of water balloons on top before setting off towards Sunnyside Trailer park. 

"Morning Momma Fogarty!" The girls called as they pulled up outside the Fogarty family trailer.

"Ah girls come in, come in. I must pop out for a bit but Sam's inside doing her homework and Fangs is asleep. Feel free to wake him up and get him doing some homework. He was out all-night last night with his boy scouts group doing god knows what!" She rambled, welcoming the girls in and making them a cup of tea each before scurrying out the door, waving a final goodbye. Her orange floral dress hugging her chubby curves.

"Well that was intense. You guys get started on your science project. I'm going to go and wake up sleeping beauty." Ali grinned wickedly, heading down to the small room at the end of the trailer, pausing before she knocked on the door. 

"He doesn't have a person in there with him, does he?" Ali asked giving the girls a concerned glance. The tanned girl shook her head giggling as Ali nodded taking a deep breath before swinging the door to Fangs room open and leaning casually against the door frame.

"MAA its Sunday!" Fangs groaned into his pillow, the light stretching through the doorway was the only source of light in his small, trailer house bedroom. The stench of whiskey and beer hung thickly in the stale air.

"What's up Buttercup, the sunlight hurt?" Ali sympathised sarcastically before sauntering over to the curtains and flinging them open. 

"Come on tequila worm, coffees on and we're making a science project. Oh, and Mama Fogarty wants your homework done. I'll help if you get up before Izzy's finished filling the bucket. You have ice, right?" Ali asked rather seriously before disappearing out the door and moving to hold the door to the bathroom open. 

Turning to her sister and mouthing "Glass of water" to her. Izzy jumped up excited to be helping and grabbed a large pint glass of water for Ali. 

The second Fangs heard the tap running he bolted out of bed in a blind panic. His eyes shooting wide with fear as he realized his big mistake when the sudden urge to vomit took control of his limbs and insides. He bolted out his bedroom to the bathroom. Ali stood by the door until Izzy handed her a glass of water. Laughing when Ali winked at her before moving to crouch beside Fangs rubbing his back and handing him the glass. 

"Ali should we get the Hangover cure ready?" Izzy asked poking her head round the door frame.

"Better had and whilst you're at it, grab Fangs some comfy clothes. He appears to have forgotten he’s in his underwear." Ali spoke quietly trying not to make Fangs feel worse than he already did. 

"You and flower had a drinking contest didn't you. You know the giant is the undefeated champion right." Ali chatted, rubbing his back until he had nothing left to bring up. Fangs sat back, resting his head against the wall behind him as he sipped the water.

"I swear to god I'm never falling for that trick again! That bastard nearly killed me, he better be just as bad as me right now." Fangs mumbled, his eyes closed to shield himself from the killer headache consuming him. 

"He crazy tall, with dark hair and a neck tattoo? Scowls a lot?" Ali asked although she already knew the answer. 

"Yeah, why?" Fangs asked curiously.

"We bumped into him this morning at the market. Besides holding a very angry scowl he seemed perfectly fine. What were your drinking last night anyway?" Ali asked handing him a damp cloth to wipe his face and a pair of sweat pants and white vest.

"Vodka and Silver tequila. Why?" Fangs replied slowly getting to his feet with the help of Ali.

"That’s why he's fine dummy." Ali rolled her eyes at the boys gullible attitude. 

"You were doing vodka and tequila shots. He was doing water shots. They look very similar and he probably paid the bartender off. Honestly Fogarty I thought you gangsters were supposed to be hip to these tricks." Ali tutted helping Fangs stand steady as he threw on the sweat pants. Heading into the kitchen, being greeted by Izzy and Sam who were holding a glass off peculiar, green juice.

"Here you go Fangs, we made it to make you feel better. Painkillers are on the side." Sam chirped happy to be included in the sobering up of her older brother. Scowling a little when he ruffled her short, dark chocolate hair in thanks.

"Down it in one Fangs, tastes like horse piss but it's good stuff trust me." Ali insisted, handing him the glass and painkillers.

"Had much experience with that have you Ali cat?" Fangs teased downing the drink and painkillers in one. Ali was right it tasted awful but after about half an hour Fangs was feel much better. 

They had just finished the last of Fangs' English homework and half of the paper mache moulds when there was a loud knock at the door. 

"It's open but we demand feeding upon entry!" Ali called, standing up and making her way to the door as it opened. Revealing a girl only a little bit taller than Ali, with incredible pink and brown hair.

"Hey Topaz, no Jug?" Ali asked letting her inside. The girl smiled dumping her bag on the kitchen side next to Fangs and pulling out her homework. 

"Heard there was a study group and since Bughead are studying together I figure I'd come and join you guys, hope that's ok." Toni asked turning to look at Ali who was smiling as always.

"Absolutely, Fangs was just about to start his trig homework." Ali chirped handing over a notebook full of scribbles. 

"These are my notes, they should help explain it. I'm going to help the girls design the motor for their moving solar system ok?" Toni and Fangs rolled their eyes nodding with an amused smirk.

"So, I saw Sweat Pea this morning. Looks like he got you again huh Fangs?" Toni teased reading through the notes Ali had given her.

"Sounds like he got had by the old water, Vodka trick." Ali chuckled.

"Can we mock me later please?" Fangs groaned resting his head on his book and closing his eyes.

"It's ok Fangs. At some point I'll challenge the grouch to a drinking contest. You can mock him then instead." Ali grinned winking at Izzy when her head flew up in excitement. Ali knew every trick in the book, her father had practically written it and taught her everything he knew. 

The group spent the rest of the morning chatting and working hard. Toni and Fangs finished their homework rather quickly and moved to help with the paper mache whilst Ali showed Izzy and Sam how to build the water powered motor. 

"Well guys I'd say its a good job done. Just leave it to dry and we can paint it tomorrow!" Ali declared cheerfully, standing back to admire their hard work. Her hands resting on her hips. 

"Ali, I'm hungry can we go to Pops now?" Izzy whined, her stomach growling as she spoke. 

"Ok Kiddo, grab your helmet. You guys coming? Foods on me." Ali offered looking at everyone's hungry faces as she snatched her helmet and keys.

"I've got my uncles truck for the day so I can give Fangs and Sam a lift. I don't think you should be driving just yet." Toni grinned dragging Fangs through the door with the assistance of Sam, who was pushing and shoving him from behind. 

"Race you there?" Ali called lifting Izzy onto the back ok her bike. Toni snorted at the offer shaking her head.

"Do I look stupid to you? There's no way I'd win against you on that beast!" She called jumping into her truck and waiting for Fangs to climb in after Sam. 

"Fair point. See you there!" Ali called before speeding away. Izzy clinging tightly to her sisters waist laughing as they hit a straight stretch of road perfect for reaching top speed. 

After enjoying a big lunch at Pops, Toni and Fangs took Sam back to the trailer before heading to the Wyrm to pick up Jughead and Sweet Pea. Whilst Ali and Izzy made their way to the quarry to start setting up. Izzy lit a fire in the large metal drum at the centre of several old sofas and huge log, whilst Ali filled up the water balloons, placing piles of them in strategic places around the fire pit. Her music played cheerfully in the background as the girls danced as they worked. 

They had just finished filling up the last of the balloons and were making sure the towels were safely tucked away by the bike, where they wouldn't get wet. When they heard the familiar grumble of Toni's truck. Ali and Izzy grabbed a water balloon each before standing side by side on one of the logs surrounding the fire. Water balloons safely hidden behind their backs.

Toni and Fangs made their way over to the girls, closely followed by an overly serious Jughead and Scowling Sweet Pea. Ali grinned at Fangs as he stopped on the log opposite her. Toni made her way over to stand by Ali and Izzy. Secretly accepting the water balloon Izzy handed her from behind, being careful not to let Fangs see. They then waited for the other 2 to join Fangs before Ali spoke.

"Hey Jug, Fangs, Flower." She acknowledged with a mischievous grin, putting Jughead on edge.

"I don't like that look. Fangs why is she looking at us like that!" He said nervously sceptical, flinching when Ali's eyebrow twitched daringly.

"In my defence Jones, I tried. I really did." Fangs defended, looking at his friend apologetically.

"Who is this Northsider and why is she here?" Sweet Pea questioned giving Ali a disgusted scowl making Toni chuckle a bit. His scowl was different from his usual northside hatred glare.

"I, my dear flower," Ali replied sweetly, stepping forward and tilting her head to the side innocently. Making Fangs and Jughead gulp. They didn't like where this was going. 

"I’m the girl that’s going to get You wet." She grinned sweetly, before launching a large water balloon at Sweet Pea's face and diving behind the log she had jumped off. His face fell in horror as the ice-cold water collided with his chiselled cheek bones.

"IT'S GIRLS V BOYS! THIS MEANS WAR!" Izzy and Toni screamed launching their water balloons at the guys before running to grab more ammunition and take cover.

"Winner is the team that stays driest. Game finishes when we run out of balloons!" Ali yelled throwing another balloon at Sweet Pea who was pissed and determined to get revenge on the Northsider that had the audacity to attack him like that. 

The game went on for a while, each team using different tactics. Whilst the boys went for the panicked maniac approach. The girls decided to trap them. Tricking the boys into a false sense of security with a few poorly aimed throws. Making the guys think they had the upper hand. Moving in to strike a tree they thought the girls had huddled behind only to find nothing but a large X on the ground.

"X MARKS THE SPOT DUMMIES" Ali called from above them. She had scurried up the tree carrying a bag full of water balloons with Izzy and Toni placed strategically behind the trees surrounding the mark waiting for the signal. The girls immediately opened fire on the guys as they stood defence less, hopelessly trying to fight back. But resistance was futile. Especially after Ali tipped the large bag of balloons over them from above. Soaking them from head to toe. 

"Told you I'd get you wet!" Ali teased, grinning smugly from the branch she was perched on.

"OK Ali. You win!" Jughead called trying to stifle a laugh. Ringing out his hat and shaking out the water from his hair. Ali grinned victoriously as she climbed back down the now very slippery tree trunk, her foot slipping at the last step sending her flying backwards. She had just enough time to throw her legs back, pushing her way through the damp air in a recovery back flip. Her feet landing solidly between Fangs and Jughead. After several seconds of laughing at Ali's near miss with the ground, the group made their way back over to the fire throwing a few more logs on to build up the flames. Laughing and joking about the battle they had just fought.

"It goes without saying, girls are definitely better than boys!" Toni stated handing out towels, making Izzy giggle. 

"Ali pulled a Lara Croft on them!" Izzy squeaked happily, holding her tummy as a giggle fit took a hold of her. Pushing her on her side almost making her fall off the log she was sat on. But just as she was about to roll off, a large hand grabbed her, pulling her back up to safety. Sweet Pea chuckled as he looked down at the little girl still curled up in a raging fit of gut busting laughter. Wrapping a large muscular arm around her to hold her steady.

After a few minutes of everyone laughing at Izzy's uncontrollable giggles, the group managed to calm down, as did Izzy's giggles. Though she still had the occasional chuckle slip through. Ali chuckled at her little sisters innocence as she went to grab the food she had bought earlier. Placing a box of goodies in front of the group.

"Told you she'd help you find your smile!" Izzy murmured looking up at Sweet Pea who had been watching Ali as the group laughed and chatted. A small grin tweaking at the corners of his chapped lips. 

"Shush you and grab me a s’more." He replied warmly. Sending Izzy over to grab them both a s’more and a sandwich each. Ali looked at the handfuls of food in Izzy's arms, moving her gaze to Sweet Pea who was sat beside Fangs. An Izzy sized gap between them.

"You slave driver! Did you just send poor, frozen little Izzy over to grab Your food?" Ali accused playfully, chuckling at Izzy when she nodded her head happily before shuffling back over to her cosy spot between the two gangsters.

"I'm helping, Ali!" Izzy defended with a proud grin as Fangs wrapped her back up in a large purple towel.

The group sat there until it was too dark and cold to stay any longer. They silently packed everything away before heading to the Whyte Wyrm. Izzy rode in the truck with Toni and Fangs so she wouldn't freeze to death on the back of Ali's bike. Forcing Sweet Pea to ride with Ali on her bike and Jughead, who refused to ride with Ali ever again, managed to squeeze inside Toni's truck after being dragged in by Izzy.

"Not too bad for Northsider's are they?" Jughead teased Sweet Pea as they followed her inside the dimly lit bar.

"They're ok I guess," He shrugged, not letting Jughead know he was right. 

"Izzy's funny, annoying but tolerable." He grumbled waving to the bar tender and ordering a round of beers for the guys.

"You're just upset 'cos the kids more perceptive than you are." Fangs interjected grabbing his beer and leaning against the bar. Smirking at his friend.

"Hey Hog-Eye, can you tell mum we're here and can we get 2 ginger beers please. Its a school night and Izzy's here." Ali greeted cheerfully, her smile brighter than ever as she accepted the drinks handed to her.

"Drinks on the house kid. You and your mum do enough for us and don't think I haven't noticed the discounts you've been giving the Serpents." Hog Eye insisted, waving away the money Ali had pulled out.

"Hey what about me?!" Izzy asked looking a little upset peering over the edge of the bar on her tiptoes.

"Sorry kiddo almost forgot about your handy work with a paint brush." Hog eye apologized leaning over to ruffle her hair a little.

"Come on Izzy, lets see if the guys are brave enough to play us at pool. Thanks Hog-Eye!" Ali smiled guiding her little sister towards the pool table on the other side of the room.

"Hey Fangs, make sure she stays out of trouble. You know what she's like." Hog-Eye ordered nodding his head towards Ali and Izzy who were setting up the pool table.

"Come on Sweet Pea. Lets show these Northsiders how to play properly." He nudged, before making his way over. "Fancy a game? Girls V Boys rematch?" He asked jumping on a nearby stool. 

"That's hardly fair Fangs." Ali answered grabbing a stick from the corner and handing it to Izzy.

"Worried you're going to lose? Don't worry we'll go easy on you Northsiders." Sweet Pea mocked folding his arms, a smug grin plastered on his face. Izzy and Fangs rolled their eyes at his arrogance as Ali stepped forwards, almost squaring up to the 6'3 giant in front of her.

"On the contrary my darling," Ali's voice sickeningly sweet as was the innocent expression that washed over her face. "It's hardly fair because Izzy has more talent in her little finger than you do in your entire body." Ali teased wiggling her little finger at him.

"Bring it Northsider. 50 bucks says me, and Fangs win." Sweet Pea challenged stepping closer and looking down at Ali who was considerably shorter than him.

"This is getting intense. You could cut the sexual tension in here with a knife." Izzy whispered to Fangs, kneeling up on her stool and leaning forwards to rest her elbows on the table as they watched.

"I know." Fangs agreed before whipping round in shock at Izzy's comment, 

"Isabelle Masters watch your language! You shouldn't know about things like that at your age!" He scolded, making Izzy scowl at him.

"Dude I'm 8 not 2!" Izzy scoffed sticking her tongue out at him making him laugh. 

"Oh god they're shaking hands, you two are in for it now she's got that look again." She warned sitting up as her sister approached.

"Boy scout over here put 50 bucks on them winning. Fancy earning 50 bucks Izzy?" Ali questioned sarcastically. Izzy grinned nodding her head, her blonde plait falling over her shoulder as she jumped down from stool dragging it into position to start the game. 

"Said Izzy could break. Give them a fair chance." Sweet Pea told Fangs as the little girl took her position. Fangs looked at his friend in horror.

"You suggested it or were coerced?" Fangs demanded under his breath making his friend look at him dumb founded.

"What’s the difference?" He shrugged just as Izzy took her shot sending the balls flying across the table potting a red ball and a yellow ball. "Actually, don't answer that." 

"Looks like you're stripes. Fitting really considering you're about to get whipped." Ali mocked watching as Izzy took her second shot moving a striped ball away from its original spot, making it difficult for the Boy's to pot anything.

"Games only just begun Ali Cat. Plenty of time to kick your ass." Fangs sneered back before taking his shot, hitting his target but missing the shot. Ali shook her head, pouting sarcastically at him as he hung his head down in annoyance, avoiding the smug twinkle growing in the oppositions eyes. 

"Maybe next time sugar plum." Ali teased moving round the table to stand next to Sweet Pea in the far corner. Bending over the table to line up her shot sticking her ass out a little more than necessary. Grazing the side of his thigh as she raised the end of her stick to take her shot. Making him suck in a sharp breath of air. Ali smirked taking her shot and potting another ball. Standing straight, she turned to look at Sweet Pea who was gripping the stick in his hands so tight, his knuckles were turning white. The muscles in his jaw showing through as he clenched his jaw even more. She fluttered her big blue eyes at him, placing a friendly hand on his biceps and smiling brightly.

"Sorry did I get you then?" She asked winking at him before moving round to take her second shot.

"Looks like the kids are playing nicely together." Jughead observed as he and Toni watched from the bar.

"Which kids are you watching?" Toni snorted giving him a concerned side eye glance. 

"From what I can see, this game is big ball of passive aggression. Looks like Pea's met his match too. If he grips that stick anymore, hes going to be replacing it." Toni commented looking over at Jughead.

"You think there's something there don't you." Jughead proposed looking at the glint in Toni's eyes.

"All I'm saying is that Northsider has managed to get away with a lot more than most." Toni responded taking a swig of her beer. "And they've only just met."

"Yeah because Izzy's here. Sweet Pea may be a hot head but he's not a monster. He wouldn't scare an innocent kid like Izzy." Jughead debated, pointing to Izzy and Sweet Pea who had just shared a high ten when she won the game potting the final ball. "See, I rest my case." 

"Ok Jughead 20 bucks says I'm right. If there isn't some obvious flirting between them, you win. If there is, you owe me 20 bucks and be my slave for a day of my choosing. Deal?" Toni offered turning to Jughead and holding out her hand for him to shake to seal the deal.

"Fine. But if I win, I want my 20 bucks and you're my slave for a day of MY choosing." Jughead bargained shaking Toni's hand in agreement.

"30 bucks says they remain completely oblivious to their feelings." Hog-Eye interjected, leaning beside Jughead cleaning a glass as he watched the group set up another match. This time Fangs and Ali versus Izzy and Sweet Pea.

"That's an obvious bet Hog-Eye. The question is for how long. My money says maximum 2 months. They're bound to notice eventually." Toni judges, looking over at Hog-Eye for his opinion.

"No way. Ali is the most oblivious person ever. I say Sweet Pea notices before she does, but it takes him at least 3 months before he does." Hog Eye predicts looking to Toni and holding his hand out to seal the deal. "What do you say?" 

"Alright Hog-Eye, you're on!" She agrees shaking hands with the older Serpent.

[luckyfaeth]

hello welcome to my new favorite junksen au ! 

Aubrey is a corporate accountant at a large company, and she’s put so much time and investment into becoming the best at her job that she never really found anyone to date

But she desperately wanted a child, and she’s finally super secure financially and in a good place in her career. So she adopted a son.

Michael Reese Posen is the light of Aubrey’s life. He’s 8 years old and has the biggest green eyes and scruffy unruly brown hair and his favorite color is yellow and he loves dinosaurs and wants to be an astronaut.

He’s always been a little shy though, and Aubrey tries her best to get him to open up. The only one he’ll really talk to other than Aubrey is Bella, Stacie’s daughter (Stacie and Aubrey are coworkers and close friends)

Michael also generally doesn’t like school, but that changes when he starts 3rd grade.

He comes home after the first day and he’s absolutely raving about his teacher.

“Mama, my teacher’s name is Ms. Emily and she’s super nice and she has pretty flowers in her room they’re sunflowers so they’re my favorite color and there are fun decorations everywhere and she brought us cupcakes!”

Aubrey listens to Michael ramble on about school for another 20 minutes, and it warms her heart because he’s so happy and excited.

Michael comes home and talks about school and his awesome teacher almost every day

“Mama, Ms. Emily bakes us cupcakes when we have tests!” “Mama, Ms. Emily lets us listen to Disney songs and singalong and she said I have a good voice!” “Mama, Ms. Emily helped me learn how to spell a big word today!” “Mama, Ms. Emily sings and plays guitar!”

Aubrey is so amazed at how excited Michael is about school. Like, every morning he’s so excited to go see what Ms. Emily has planned for them

A couple months in, parent/teacher conferences roll around, and Aubrey finally gets to meet the famous Ms. Emily

She walks in the classroom (Which is like walking into a rainbow. Seriously, it’s so fucking bright) and sees who she assumes to be Michael’s teacher looking down at her desk writing something so she knocks on the door to get her attention and is like “Hello? I’m here for the parent teacher conference. I’m Michael’s mom?”

And Emily’s head pops up and she gives Aubrey a huge smile and oh no Aubrey is too gay

Ideally teacher!Emily always wears like, cute flowery dresses or fun sweaters in the winter or sometimes she'll have fun and wear like denim overalls that have cute patches on them (her students helped her pick them out!!)

Also the first outfit Emily wears in pp2 and the pink checkered button up under the sweater vest fit the teacher!Emily aesthetic anyway back to plot

“Ms. Posen! It’s so great to meet you. Michael’s told me all about you. I’m Emily Junk. You can call me Emily though. Guess you see why I go by Ms. Emily, huh?”

Aubrey laughs and is like “Oh, Michael absolutely adores you. Every day it’s Ms. Emily this, Ms. Emily that. I honestly have never seen him more excited than when you showed them that movie about dinosaurs”

Aubrey cannot believe how undeniably kind Emily is and also understands why Michael likes her so much

Calm down Aubrey.

Aubrey thanks Emily because Michael’s always been a little closed off but Emily has really helped that and Emily is like “Aw, it’s really nothing. He’s still a little shy with the rest of the class, besides Bella. But he loves talking to me about what he’s reading during quiet time.”

“Well, that’s huge for him. He barely talks to my parents even. Whatever it is you’re doing, it’s amazing.”

Emily totally blushes.

Emily highkey thinks Aubrey is so freakin' attractive like .... she showed up to the conference looking all professional bc she just came from work and oh wow ok emily don't have a crush on one of your student's moms!! omg.... but she's just so pretty and poised and !!!

As they’re finishing up, Emily leads Aubrey out and Aubrey sees that she’s wearing bright yellow converse that match her cute sundress and it’s adorable

“It was so nice to meet you Ms. Posen.”

“Please, Emily. I told you to call me Aubrey.”

“It was so nice to meet you Aubrey,” Emily smiles. “Sorry I was checking my phone while we were talking. Just a little bit of stress to start the day with.”

“Oh it’s no problem, I understand. What’s got you stressed?” Aubrey doesn’t know why she asks but she does

“I had a bunch of parents gathered to help volunteer at this Halloween party I’m doing for the kids, but one of them dropped out and it’s right around the corner...But it’s no big deal. I can totally handle it.”

Aubrey says what she’s thinking before she can think too hard about it

“I could volunteer. If you need the extra set of hands.”

“No no no I couldn’t ask you do to that…”

“I’d love to help, Emily.”

So Aubrey ends up helping out and she decorates Emily’s classroom with her and Emily finds it amusing that Aubrey needs to stand on her toes to reach the top of the chalkboard but Emily doesn’t

For Halloween Emily dresses up as Minnie Mouse with the Minnie ears and the polka dot dress and it’s so adorable

Chloe being Emily's teacher friend and she saw Aubrey and Emily decorating together yesterday and then taking down all of the decorations today and she sees Aubrey laughing and Emily grinning like a dork and is like “hhhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmMMMMM”

Aubrey and Michael leave and Chloe rushes over and Emily squeals because "dont scare me like that!!" but Chloe ignores her and she's like "you like her! you like her! emily you totes like her!!!!"

“No I don’t Chloe. Shut up”

Stacie and Aubrey talk about how the party went and Stacie is like “Aubrey, you think Emily is cute.”

“What? I mean, sure, she’s like a real-life Miss Honey. But I don’t-”

“Just admit you’re hot for teacher!”

“Stacie don’t say it like that.”

“Whatever, it’s true.”

Aubrey ends up volunteering to help at all of the other little events that Emily does for her class (Stacie says she’s whipped and Aubrey just says she wants to be more involved at the school. Stacie calls BS)

Emily offering Aubrey tea when she visits the classroom one day and Aubrey’s like “Sure thank you”

Emily pours her the tea and asks, “Honey?”

Aubrey’s really glad she wasn’t drinking yet because she would’ve spit it out “I-I’m sorry what???”

“Honey. With your tea??”

“OH”

Aubrey’s a blushing mess for once and Emily thinks it’s adorable

Michael totally catches onto Aubrey’s crush (as much as an 8 year old can) and asks “Mama do you like Ms. Emily?”

“Of course I do, sweetheart.”

“I thought so cuz you look at her like Flynn Ryder looks at Rapunzel” (Tangled is Michael’s favorite movie)

Aubrey’s like “Michael stay out of it this is adult business”

“Ok mama but if you wanted to marry Ms. Emily I’d be okay with it”

“Alright time for bed goodnight”

At the Christmas party Aubrey notices again how amazing Emily is with the kids (duh) and is like “you know I think if this was my job I’d never want kids” and Emily laughs but is like “nah I love them..I really do want kids someday still”

“How does your boyfriend feel about kids?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend..or girlfriend. Haha what a weird thing for you to assume. Oh no no Carter don’t poke Hannah with the candy cane!”

Aubrey screams a little internally because that was going so well goddamnit Carter what a little shit

Teacher appreciation week and Michael’s like “Mama we GOTTA get something for Ms. Emily”

“Ok so like what...a ... gift card? ...... maybe a....apple??? What do teachers like Michael”

Michael’s like “well ms emily really likes lots of things like animals and space and flowers and cupcakes and candy and -“

“Can you speed this up honey”

“Oh she likes mugs!! She has a different one everyday!!!”

Michael helping Aubrey pick out the Best Mugs for emily and they give her one for every day of the week because Aubrey is EXTRA!!!!

Emily’s like “oh my stars you didn’t have to do all this you know most people just give me a Starbucks gift card and are done with it...”

“Well I...we. We wanted to do something special for you.”

The last day Michael doesn’t show up with a mug and Emily is a little disappointed but she doesn’t question it

But then Aubrey comes to pick Michael up which is weird because usually Michael carpools with the Conrads but Emily gladly welcomes the visit

And Aubrey’s like “Michael could you give Ms. Emily and I one second to talk?”

“Am I in trouble?”

“No sweetheart”

Emily’s like “How can I help you Aubrey?”

“In the spirit of Teacher Appreciation week, I’d like to take you to dinner tonight. If you’d like.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet! I’d love to. Is Michael coming?”

Aubrey blinks. “No, I thought this could be just the two of us.”

“Oh. Well that’s kind of weird considering I’m his teacher and it’s for teacher appreciation week”

“It’s a date! A date. I’m asking you on a date”

“Oh. Ohhhh. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”

“Nevermind I shouldn’t have asked I just thought -”

“Aubrey, I’d love to go on a date with you tonight.”

[bamby0304]

Season’s Special: Chapter 10

Winter: December

Summary: Life was simple. You worked at the local cafe, starting your days baking some pies before setting off to serve customers. Everything was routine, all year round. Nothing changed. As a creature of habit you were quite content living your life the way it was. But when a flannel wearing flirt walks into the cafe one morning you begin to wonder if maybe you’re missing something…

Over the next twelve months things start to change. Over four seasons your world is turned upside down… only question is, is it for better or for worse?

Masterlist

Warnings: Some violence...

Bamby

You felt like crap. The Christmas holidays were fast approaching, the whole town was busy preparing for the coming festivities… and you felt like complete and utter crap.

It seemed the electrical and water problems Susie had been experiencing had come to your apartment- which also affected the cafe. Even after Susie went back to her place and informed you it was back to normal, you were left to deal with a building that had more mood swings than a tantrum throwing toddler.

With everyone bustling around town and planning parties, your month was completely booked. Orders were practically coming out of your ears there were so many of them. For the next four to five weeks you would have no free time.

The stress of your building and all the orders was making it hard for you to get some decent sleep. You felt drained all the time, like it didn’t matter if you slept for a hundred years, it still wouldn’t be enough. It was getting to the point where you felt so horrible you’d actually started being sick.

Food was off the table. Just the thought of eating made your stomach churn. All you could manage was the few bites you forced down your throat whenever you felt like you were going to pass out.

Coffee was your best friend. You didn’t usually drink as much as you had been lately, and you definitely never had it as strong as you had been. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

Every year you got a little under the weather around Christmas, so it wasn’t entirely odd for you to feel the way you did. But you didn’t recall it ever being this bad.

To be honest, you were pretty sure the cafe wouldn’t have survived the last few weeks if it weren’t for Tom and Susie. They’d, of course, taken notice in your change, and had stepped up without a word.

In the kitchen of the cafe you were alternating between sipping on coffee and making desserts. You had pies in the oven, cookies cooling on the bench, a cake mix ready to go, and cupcakes that needed to be decorated. That was just what you had going at that moment, there was still a seemingly never-ending list of orders still to be done.

Focusing on your work- and drink- you didn’t even notice when the front bell rang. Though, mind you, you hadn’t noticed it ringing all day, so it wasn’t a surprise you didn’t realise you had a customer.

Your attention was pulled away from your steaming, extra strong, cup of coffee when Susie walked in, a kind smile on her face. “Someone’s here for you, boss.”

Frowning, confused, you placed your mug down on the counter and headed out to the front of the room. That’s where you stopped dead in your tracks.

It had been almost four weeks since you’d seen him. Dean Winchester. He looked just as he had before he’d left, yet more handsome than ever. He looked a little more rugged and scruffy, his facial hair passed the shadow he usually let it grow to- though the hair was far from being untamed, unkempt or even close to what you could call a beard. But other than that, he still looked like Dean. Your Dean.

Slowly, a smile crept on your face, and before you knew what you were doing, you were running around the counter and towards him. He caught you as you threw your arms around him, jumping in the air. Spinning you around, his arms around your waist, his face buried in your neck, he held you close.

A moment later, you pulled back so you could look into those beautiful green eyes you’d missed so much. They were smiling up at you, crinkling at the corners.

“God, I missed you.” You let out a breath you’d been holding since he’d driven off all those weeks ago.

Chuckling against you, he nodded lightly. “I know what you mean.”

You sat at a table across from Dean, inside the café and away from the snow outside. The two of you were silent as you watched each other. You were sipping on your coffee again, while he had a drink of his own and- of course- a pie on the side.

“Spiced custard.” He nodded, breaking the silence, gesturing to his pie with the fork in his hand. “I like it.”

“Good.” You smiled lightly, feeling more content than you had in some time.

“But I was kinda hoping for something, I don’t know… special.” He gave you a pointed look.

“We’ve been busy,” you explained. “It actually took me a few days to realise the season had change, and by then my schedule was so full I never got time to think of a special.”

“Can I suggest pecan?” He grinned lightly.

“You always suggest pecan.”

He nodded in response, a small laugh falling from his lips as he turned back to his pie, the two of you silent once more.

The first week without Dean had been torture. You’d gotten so used to having him around that you forgot what it was like without him. Every time the bell rang you were sure it was him, coming back to grab some pie. But it never was.

By the second week you’d convinced yourself to be numb to the pain. You made yourself wait, and forced yourself to be as busy as possible. It had worked for a while… until the next week rolled by.

Week three was the worst. It was around then that Susie left your apartment and things started to change. Your place was a mess, your sleep patterns no better. Whenever you did sleep you had horrible nightmares of Dean… picturing him hurt and bloody… and dying.

For the last few days you’d been a mess. Working nonstop to distract yourself, even though that actually did nothing to keep your mind from going to dark thoughts. You drank as much coffee as you could handle, not wanting to sleep. Not wanting to see the nightmares. Your hair had started to thin and fall out here and there, your skin paling, eyes red rimmed with dark circles surrounding them. You were pretty sure you looked like some kind of monster.

But seeing Dean in real life- and in one piece- washed all your worry away. He was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

“I don’t mean to sound like an annoying, over-protective boyfriend, or anything,” Dean swallowed the last of his pie before meeting your eyes again, “but, is everything alright?”

Your smile vanished, replaced with a look of guilt and surprise. “What are you talking about?” you tried to play dumb.

“I’ve been kinda hoping you’d say something so I didn’t have to, but… you look like you haven’t slept in weeks. Or eaten in days,” he noted.

Maybe everything wasn’t going to be okay…

“It’s nothing.” You shrugged, trying to brush his worry off. “Just stress.”

“Because of the shop? If that’s the problem, I’m back, I’ll help out,” he offered.

Heart warming at his offer, you gave a small smile as you shook your head. “We’re fine. Really.”

“Then, what is it?”

Part of you wanted to keep trying to sweep everything under the rug. You didn’t want to worry anyone, especially Dean. But you also knew he wasn’t going to listen to anything but the truth. He wasn’t going to let this go until you told him everything.

Sighing, you leaned back in your chair and let it all out. “The electricity for one. We’ve changed the globes a million times but it must be the wires.”

“Lights keep flickering?”

You nodded, going on. “And the water pressure is off. Sometimes the water comes out murky and gross as well, which is not good when you’ve got to use it to cook. Then there’s the heating. No matter what we try, I’m always freezing.” You gestured to the layers of clothes you were wearing to prove a point.

“Any strange noises?”

“Well, yeah. But that could be the old building and pipes. Sometimes we get rats in the walls as well. And it has been kinda windy lately,” you noted.

There was a look on Dean’s face, as if he felt like all of the information you’d just given him was the worst news he could have heard. He looked as if you’d just told him someone had physically hurt you or something.

Not liking that look, you tried to give him a reassuring smile as you reached out to slip your hand into his. “But we’re fine, Dean, really.”

His eyes scanned you. They roamed over you from head to toe. There was no heat in his gaze like there usually was when he looked you over. Instead it was like he was examining you. As if he was trying to find some kind of injury, or anything that might be out of place.

When he spoke again you were a little concerned at the tone of his voice and the fact the look in his eyes hadn’t softened- despite your efforts. “Look, I gotta go home and grab some things, okay? I want you to stay here. With people. Maybe take Susie to the park or something? Go for a walk, I don’t know.”

“Dean,” you laughed lightly, “it’s snowing outside. I’m not going for a walk.”

“Fine. Just… just stay with people, okay? I don’t want you to be alone.” He got to his feet, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. “Promise me.”

All you could manage was a nod, his behaviour rendering you speechless.

Pleased with your response, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to your forehead before turning on his heels and walking out the door. Each time he turned back to look at you, you took notice of his tense jaw and worried eyes. You’d never seen someone so concerned before.

You’d tried to keep your promise. You really had. But when Dean didn’t come back and the store started to empty, you couldn’t find it in your heat to make Susie or Tom stay with you. Besides, you were exhausted. You wanted to sleep.

Now that Dean was back you’d hoped your nightmares would disappear. So, the moment you’d stepped into your apartment you’d shed your layers of clothing, leaving your tights and shirt on. You’d grabbed a blanket, popped a movie on, curled up on the couch and let yourself sleep.

Blood. Screams. Fire. Horror.

Fear. Pain. Anger. Sorrow.

All around you. Your nightmares were more alive than ever. They consumed your mind. Your soul. It was as if they were draining the happiness out of you. Like it was draining everything good. Leaving nothing but an emptiness that revolted you.

Try as you might, you tried to wake. You tried to pull yourself out of the terror. But your mind wouldn’t let it go. You had no control.

You could feel your physical body thrusting and convulsing. You could feel the edge of a scream hanging on your tongue. You could feel your skin slick with sweat while it shivered from a cold like nothing you’d ever felt before.

You could taste your own blood. It coated your mouth, thick and strong.

You could smell rotting flesh. Something so disgusting and wrong you could only think of one word to describe it. Death.

You could hear the incoherent murmurs of someone. They were angry. Their rage all consuming. Their rage consuming your energy. Their rage draining you.

Something loud in the distance pulled at your attention. Someone yelling. Something banging loud. You were pretty sure it was a fist on a door, but you couldn’t be certain. Your brain couldn’t focus on it properly.

More noises followed. Louder. Voices. Closer. Familiar and unfamiliar. Masculine. Worried. Hurried.

Then you felt hands. Strong, warm, welcome hands grasped your shoulders, shaking you. Hard. Fast. Urgent. Scared.

“Y/N!”

Your eyes shot open at the sound of Dean’s voice yelling your name.

He was leaning over you as you lay on the couch, covered in sweat despite how cold you felt. His eyes left yours, glancing down at your chest. Gaze following his, you found yourself looking at a dark red mark on your skin. A mark that looked exactly like a hand print.

“Where is she? Where’d she go?”

Pushing Dean away, you sat up suddenly, eyes wide and glued to the tall stranger in your house… and the shotgun in his hand.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Y/N, this is Sam. Sam, Y/N,” Dean quickly introduced as he grabbed your arm, pulling you to your feet.

“Sam? Sam, Sam? As in, your brother Sam?”

“Yes,” Dean answered gruffly, putting himself in front of you protectively for some reason.

You were confused. You had every right to be. For some unknown reason, your boyfriend and his brother had broken into your house in the middle of the night with a gun-

Dean pulled a gun of his own out, cutting your thoughts short.

“What are you doing with that?” You nodded to the weapon in his hands.

Before anyone could respond a woman suddenly appeared in the middle of your apartment. She had deathly grey skin and was dressed in ripped robes that were so dark they almost looked like shadows. She looked like something that had stepped out of a horror movie.

But she hadn’t stepped out of a movie. She was real… and she was in your apartment.

“Sam!” Dean called out to warn his brother, but it was too late.

The woman threw Sam across the apartment, holding him against the wall without laying a finger on him. He struggled to breath, pulling at an invisible force around his throat.

Knowing his brother was in danger, Dean dropped his gun and started rummaging through everything and anything he could get to. “What’s she connected to?” he asked.

Eyes glued to Sam, fear pulsing through your veins, it took you a moment to realise he’d directed the question at you.

“What?”

“The ghost? What’s she connected to?” Dean asked, voice raised and panicked as he hurried for you couch.”

“I don’t know what you’re-”

You didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence before Dean had pulled Susie’s book out from between the couch cushions.

Running to the kitchen, knowing Sam didn’t have much time left, Dean grabbing the salt off your bench and a lighter from his pocket. Throwing the book in your sink, he poured salt over it before setting it a light.

An ear-piercing scream echoed off the walls as the woman in black burst into flames before disappearing right before your eyes.

Sam fell to the ground, taking a deep and much needed breath. Dean leaned against the counter, panting hard himself. While you looked around you, your mind still processing everything.

“What the hell just happened?”

Bamby

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[aussiebee]

Derek showing up for a date with Stiles, though.

Like, maybe he’s a mechanic, or a grease monkey OR EVEN A ROUGHNECK, PERHAPS. He’s usually filthy, scruffy, unkempt; always with a surly expression and old, worn safety clothing with innumerable stains and rips and tears.

And maybe Stiles doesn’t see him every day, only two or three times a month because Derek works away, but he figures the schedule out and then makes sure to be around ‘by accident’: stopping by the florist on Main to say hi to Mrs Boyd just as Derek happens to call in to pass on the latest news about Vernon. Buying his bread from the bakery that Allison and Isaac run when Derek drops in to buy the first red velvet cupcake (his favourite) that he’s had in a month. Swinging by the station with an extra cupcake for the sheriff because maybe Derek was a bit of a hellraiser when he was a kid, but Sheriff Stilinski knew good when he saw it, even at sixteen.

And maybe Derek notices. Maybe he sees Stiles when he helps Mr. Bryson carrying his groceries home, walking slowly so the elderly man can keep up and chattering away with a smile like the sun. Dressing up in ridiculous costumes and doing all the best voices for Storytime at the library on Wednesday mornings. Studying at a park bench by the fountain in the city square so he can protect the innocent like his dad.

Maybe Derek fell in love with him just by listening to Sheriff Stilinski tell stories about his amazing son, with a mind like a trap and a heart the size of a mountain. Maybe Derek discovers for himself that not only is Stiles a great person, he’s pretty as hell when he turns suddenly before entering the hardware store and actually physically runs into Stiles who stares at him with eyes like honeyed bourbon and a smile like forever.

Maybe he smiles back, just a little because he’s shy, and asks if he can see Stiles when he gets back after his next swing. Of course Stiles says yes, how could he not? So they arrange it, and they text for the three weeks Derek is way, and Stiles is in so much trouble because his infatuation has turned into full-blown love and it hasn’t even been a month.

And maybe he has exams the day Derek gets back, but it’s okay, because they arrange to meet at the whiskey bar in Beacon City, away from the well-meaning but still prying eyes of everyone they know. Maybe Stiles is nervous and gets there thirty minutes early.

And then.

Then.

Maybe Derek walks in, and he fucking looks like that.

Not a skerrick of oil on him. Hair slicked back. Leather jacket, tight jeans and a tight, perfectly white tee. He’s sex walking, every fantasy Stiles’ incredibly agile mind has ever been able to conjure up. Then he smiles nervously with his adorable bunny teeth and yep, he’s done for.

Stiles is in so much trouble, but maybe he just can’t wait.

[arabellaflynn]

#spoiledratupdate

I lost Garion -- one of the old men -- a week ago today. It was not unexpected; a previous owner actually happened to know their birthdate, June 1st 2018, which means Garion was just shy of three. Hitting three for a rat is like a human hitting a hundred. Domesticated rattos live a lot longer than their feral counterparts, but not a lot of them make it quite that far. Garion also spent a fair chunk of last year suffering through the single worst bout of pneumonia I have ever seen a rat survive. He recovered pretty well, but never quite regained all of his weight, and had persistent breathing trouble that I'm guessing was down to scarring of the lungs, since it didn't respond to antibiotics but did remit a bit with the faceful of Dulera he got every morning.

I kept the two old men when the other six went off to Mainely Rat Rescue specifically because I figured Garion didn't have a lot of time left. It's difficult to re-home senior rats, I was already their third caretaker, and I did not like the idea that either Garion or his brother Errand might pass away while still in foster care. I wasn't about to split them up either; they'd been together literally their entire lives. Errand was not the brightest of rats even before he started trying to eat paint, but he's very protective. When Garion was wheezing, we had to stuff them both in the Sick Bay cage together (which you aren't supposed to do, lest the healthy one catch lurgy), or neither of them would really eat.

Garion settled into the role of crotchety old man quite a while ago, but he did give me just enough warning to deliver their birthday mini-cupcakes about a week early. (They both ate all the frosting off the top, then Errand flipped them over and trampled cake into everything. Which was pretty much what I expected.) I called the vet and made his Final Appointment as soon as I knew he was really in trouble, but Garion had other ideas. There was some complaining, some trapping his brother in a corner for cuddles, and some scuttling around looking for a comfortable spot that didn't exist. He got as much Tylenol as he wanted, since frankly hepatotoxicity wasn't exactly a concern anymore. I told him I loved him and his previous mommy loved him and I promised I would take care of his idiot brother. He spent his last hour or so laid out in my lap, being gently pet, going slower and slower and slower until finally he stopped.

Just as well. Garion hated traveling. I had to fill him right up to his beady little eyeballs with valerian-laced yogurt to get him to the new apartment. He would not have enjoyed an Uber ride to the vet.

As with all of my rats, Garion was sent off in a comfortable box, with all of the snacks and treasures he'll need in the afterlife. Chocolate chips, baby carrots, an extra birthday cupcake for the road, some chopsticks to gnaw on, one of his favorite crocheted huts to curl up in, and a stuffed version of his brother, so he has someone to cuddle with until he sees the real one again. 

If you want to honor his memory, two of his favorite hobbies were bossing his brother around, and climbing onto the highest thing he could find so he could perch like a scruffy little gargoyle, and peer judgmentally down on all below. I'm sure you all can figure something out. He was also a complete chocoholic. We would have gotten him help for it, but 12-step programs won't accept you until you admit you have a problem, and Garion saw absolutely nothing wrong with stealing and hoarding as many chocolate chips as he could find. Not even when he napped on the pile and mashed it into his fur. In his defense, "rat slept on something delicious" is rather a self-solving problem.

Errand is still with me. Aside from some thinning fur on his face, and some understandable sads right now, he is the same squashy dumbass he was a year ago. I have no idea how long he'll last. I gave him and Tseng a few days to adjust, then smeared them both with pistachio pudding and dumped the little fuckers in the bathtub, in the hopes that maybe that would make the other rat tasty enough to get along with. It worked for about three minutes, before Errand lost his temper over nothing. Tseng, who outweighs the old man by almost 50% but learned all of his ratting from Rude, did basically nothing to defend himself, and seemed confused by the very concept of someone trying to pick a fight. He managed to no-sell the whole thing so completely that I didn't realize Errand actually did nick him until I picked the little booger up.

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[annavaught-posts]

This summer (and this autumn) I have thought of small things. I’ve been looking at microcosms, at the little piece of ivory (I’m quoting Jane Austen) that is my life. I’ve been focused on my community and on my garden – most specifically on its plants and animals of all sizes. On birds and butterflies; insects; bees. Barry the hedgehog (more on him later), Gavin the bat and Wayne the pigeon or, rather Wayne’s descendants (Ditto.) And I’ve been minded to observe other places I know well – and really to look at them properly. That’s why I have a collection of Pembrokeshire sea glass on my window sill and a display of tiny crab, auger and razon shells on the bathroom shelf.

Three chickens.

Three cats.

Three boys.

A little background.

I don’t know about you, but I have experienced the past year as relentless and deeply stressful. Actually, I do know lots of people have felt this way. That’s partly why I’ve just written a piece for the next Patrician Press anthology (My Europe) on how I felt, the day after the Brexit vote, at my youngest lad’s school sports’ day. Traumatised, that’s what. You don’t need me to tell you about Trump, but I’m married to an American and my mother in law cries on the phone about it. So. Were you to look at social media over the past year, you’d have seen many people lamenting the state of the world, writing about armageddon. We’d had three big bereavements and that’s just the tip of what’s been happening for us… So much – and by this summer, I felt I was also struggling with my writing – time, space, skill; meeting then no; full manuscript, long pause, then no. Now, I am not complaining as this is hardly unusual, but it became neccessary to address how I felt: that it had stopped being a joy and had become, instead, about defeat and stress and competition. It had become about working quickly in order to prove that I could catch up for starting late. Well that’s no good, because if it’s like this, it’s nothing. It’s based on false premises; on assumptions; on thinking that anyone’s actually looking. My teaching was going well, but I was unable to see it and I think you can see where this is heading.

By the end of July, I felt consumed by worry and permanently under the weather; I could not enjoy things other than distractedly. I realised I was becoming ill. I had a couple of dissociative episodes. (Read about those elsewhere. Like on the NHS page: http://www.nhs.uk/conditions/dissociative-disorders/Pages/Introduction.aspx#Types-of-dissociative-disorder.) One was at the end of the morning school run. Top work. A distracted and unsafe-feeling walk in drizzle was its beginning. They are frightening, but I’ve met them before. Time to find a sympathetic ear and also, while being mindful of what’s going on in the world, and proactive, to understand that I don’t help anyone or any situation by reacting with anxiety. That prolonged stress, however much I call myself an ‘I can do this’ tiger, is a risk for this mind and in a predictable way. And I’ll not be so productive if I go mad again. So you see, I am writing about necessity as well as the choice or responsibility to regard and serve beauty and other living things.

So. Too much in my head, then.

Time, as I recover, to think small. Domestics. Things closer to home. Some of it was really there but not being given enough time and joy; some was new this summer. And I wonder if some of what I describe may sound twee. Can’t help that. But as I describe homespun happiness, let me tell you that, with my background, we are talking about necessity too. And also, with three boys, about calm and about their feeling love and health in their family home. I grew up in a beautiful place, but not once can I look back at my childhood without a feeling of deep discomfort. I’ve written about that widely, for trauma is closely connected with dissociation and, of course, other mental health problems. So I have a notion of how it can be. In the home. It truly helps to think about your immediate environment. Not with competition, but in order to nurture what is already there. And I need to.

So who’s about?

Chickens. Three, as you saw. They are rescue girls. They started coming to live with us when my youngest, now six, was one. He thought they were the funniest things. Now, there is nothing like helping tend something (or someone!) back to life and health. When I collected our first batch of rescue hens, it was a shock. They were half bald; their combs very pale and flopping to one side. That first night they stood still, unsure what to do as darkness fell because they’d been housed under striplights. I lost a few of these first girls quite quickly because they cannot always cope with the bacteria in the ground, owing to poor natural immunity. They have not had a natural life and their peck of dirt. I had a couple I reckon died simply of shock, but we’ve done our best with our girls – the current community (and I’ve plans for more, but no more boys and…probably…no more cats) – are called Cookie, Cocoa and Frostie. Along the way, we’ve also had Cupcake and Florence (where Grandma is from) and, once, a particularly pathetic arrival which my teenage son called, unaccountably, Stacey.

These girls are such a pleasure. They chuckle and crow and coo. It does not take long to nurse them to health and they eat well – scraps, pellets, bugs; mealworms as a treat. They do hilarious things like jump on two rigid little legs for a bunch of grapes bounced up and down on elastic. I’ve made them things – like the ‘pecky log’, the hollows of which I fill with peanut butter. Their bald bits grow back, their eyes brighten and their combs take colour and stand erect. And their eggs are beautiful, too. When I talk to them, they answer back and I pick them up and walk with them. Hens respond well to conversation and to human contact. Well, we all do. Occasionally they escape and I once came home and found all three, in a row, chuckling at the garden gate they could actually have flown over. Then, one of them told me that they were only going so far because they liked living with us. Their personalities are clearly different and my six year old would tell you that Frostie is grumpy, Cocoa is shy and Cookie is confident but has very good manners.

They make me happy. If you are interested in rehoming, here:

http://www.bhwt.org.uk/about-us/

It is a scandal that these poor creatures live in such awful conditions – and don’t be fooled by the ‘enriched cages’ system that came into place as an improvement. It is still –must be – a miserable, compacted, humiliating life. But you can consider doing something about that, though give them space and time.

Insects. I ordered in our firewood early this year, and we set about making log piles here and there over the summer holiday. These make a haven for woodlice and all sorts of creepy crawlies, thereby helping to strengthen and diversify what you have going on in your garden. There’s a place and a need for all these beasties. We also made the decison, earlier in this year, to leave only part of the garden tidy. I don’t know why I didn’t do this before. In the scruffy area around the kids’ trampoline and next to the chicken run, I’ve seeded wildflowers and planted bee mats (which are a biodegradable garden weft that’s full of seeds for plants bees like). You can get these and the seed at any garen centre. Also, seed your own. Shake heads from poppies or whatever crops up there or elsewhere in your garden. So this Summer of Small Things, we’ve been able to peek at bugs and, also, to watch what popped up in scruffy garden. What we planted; what arrived. There’s campion, poppies, foxgloves, scabious; different types of grass; some wheat and even a head or two of barley have popped up too. It’s serendipitous, healthy and it makes me feel calm and productive. And there are are more bees and butterflies about, whereas before it just seemed to be the occasional cabbage white. Now, I see meadow blue. And took joy in a comma.

In addition to the scruffy patch, the youngest and I set about putting in extra lavender and thyme plants for the bees and two buddleia for the butterflies. I’ve fitted in a few small trees here and there (we don’t have a massive garden, but it is stuffed to the gills!) and attached extra bird feeders (NOT above your chicken run, though), ladybird and bee houses (pretty little turquoise ones – did I say how much colour is a boost to my mood?) and I’m making a hedgehog house because we are being visited regularly by a hedgehog we’ve named Barry. Just the other night, Barry turned up with a small hedgehog which the kids think is his very small hedgehog partner but looks more like a babe to me; hedgehogs have their litters (usually) in June and July in case you were wondering. And I was sure to watch the swifts, swallows and house martins. There were nests near by. And to sit outside or lie on the grass at twilight and watch the bats, especially the one (and I do know it’s not necessarily the same one!) the littlee has named Gavin.

I met a student of mine the other day. That is, someone I taught ten years ago. His warmest memory was not nailing A Streetcar Named Desire or UCAS applications or anything, but the fact that he’d remembered what I’d told him about birdsong in one of the digressions that are, I think, a key part of teaching; of life. It was the sound of a wood pigeon on a roof. ‘What is that?’ ‘Don’t you know?’ said I. ‘That’s a wood pigeon and he sang, “My toe bleeds Betty” three times and then an urgent, “Look!”‘

And it’s true. Listen out. We have an old house, tall with three floors and a broad attic. A deep pleasure of mine is to hear a pigeon do his call from the chimney stack and listen to how his call reverberates through the wide chimney and out into the broad fireplace in our sitting room – and I love it. And lest you think I’ve turned into, I don’t know, Kirstie Allsop with my wide chimney and, get me, broad inglenook, let me tell you that, once upon a time, I bought this place, semi-derelict, and it has been done up very slowly. It is quirky and unfinished and full of old rugs and thousands of books and therein is love. My in laws and much extended family think we are living in a house that’s too eccentric and too small and express dislike of it. But wherein did those criteria evolve? There’s warmth; soft beds; loads of stuff to do and cunning places to hang out and hide. Why don’t you come round? I’d love that, really.

If I have any dream about raising my family here, it’s that people come in and get comfortable and chuck their shoes off. If they feel sad, I’ve got lots of blankets and, like I said, places to hide in. And I want the boys to witness that: what you might construct a home of. There’s a cellar under the kitchen (this place used to be a pub), accessed by a dangerous ladder and on the rainy days, we play football in that cellar and I’ve let them, ferrals, graffiti the walls. Because you don’t need all the gubbins you think you do or someone told you you had to factor in because you were…I don’t know…successful…a parent…middle class…Oh – (apologies but I also love cursing) – slightly fuck off. We feel that this house, as it has evolved, looks after us. I used to be swayed by criticism of it. But not any more. Comfort and a feeling that a house welcomes you in are not small things. I was reflecting on that, this summer, too. About the feelings that are engendered in and by a place.

Oh yes – I mentioned Wayne the pigeon. He was a fellow with a bad wing and I nursed him back to health and off he flew. A bit wobbly but he nixed it. Please don’t tell he was thereafter beaten up by the other pigeons. But anyway, when I hear ‘My toe bleeds Betty’ on our chimney stack, I tell the kids that these are likely the descendants of Wayne. The older ones think I’m a mad old git person, but they love it anyway.

Cats. Three rescue. One was a dubious ‘return’ to the animal shelter; the other two car park kittens. Max; Ginger; Daisy. The first is a bit moody and known locally as the Chubmeister because he’s convinced some older residents here and there that he’d benefit from a snack and has become truly portly; the second can do tricks – like jump through a hoop to retrieve a pom pom – and she especially loves glitter pom poms. When you come down in the morning, she’s sitting waiting, with the glitter pom pom. Throw my pompom, person. I derive intense happiness from this silly, tiny thing. Oh and third cat: local teenagers refer to her as ‘Kitler’ because of her unfortunate marking. (No need to elaborate.) And did I say that we once hatched a load of ladybird larvae and, extraordinarily, there’s a crack in the plaster near where we set them free from their little hatchery and they come back and overwinter in that crack, just above my thirteen year old’s bed?

And the summer. Just down to my family in Pembrokeshire. Clifftops and shell collecting; going out on the boats and watching the shadows in the water (jellyfish); my telling them where the basking shark lie and about secret footpaths. Watching the comical puffins off skomer and the porpoises and dolphins in the bay. Waiting expectantly for the seals to come into pup. Bewhiskered old man seals. Rock pools. Telling them to shuffle their feet so as to avoid weever fish.

All these things. Pretty things and being lost in and awed by the natural world. Simultaneously, of course, imperfection and mess and stress. Confusion and moil and toil. Donald Trump on twitter and the profligate disregard he and his family appear to have for others; it makes me cry to see someone so arrogant with such an egregiously limited world view. You can do some things and I could never not petition or challenge, and I cannot ever be the sort of person who can decide not to look. I tried once. I – I’m sorry if this sounds judgemental – felt that I was cruel and vacuous to try to switch off and focus only on self care (as I had been several times advised to do), because why do we exist if not to make lives better for one another? And in looking out, there is purpose for you.

But there are the other things to think about too so that a line can, at some point, be drawn. Your health; the little piece of ivory; the wildlife and animals you can look at, nurse and encourage right beside you. You can be a steward of what’s around you and revel in its beauty too: that’s why there’s a pile of foraged quinces sitting in our fireplace. They are russet and lime green and they smell oriental, as old and time and deeply familar all in one rush.

So yes, The Summer of Small Things. Time to reflect and to move more slowly in a world that had been whirling. It’s a start. And, like I said, come round. Bring seeds. Or buns. Agapanthus seed heads I can hang up for decorations. ‘Please take’ pears from the box down the lane. And Frostie, Cookie and Cocoa are rolling in dust baths but would love it if you have some leftover spaghetti. They think it’s worms and run from each other to secrete their haul before devouring it. Come see.

Anna x

The Summer of Small Things This summer (and this autumn) I have thought of small things. I've been looking at microcosms, at the little piece of ivory (I'm quoting Jane Austen) that is my life.