#i have 3 that have had the baby seeds planted for YEARS

[allsassnoclass]

🧠🧠

hello dear anon! i'm a little late getting to this, but ask and ye shall recieve!

send me a 🧠 for a long ramble about something i’m obsessed with lately

i am going to be honest with you! part of why this is so late is because i have no clue what i'm obsessed with lately! i've been pretty busy with my additional job at the haunted house, but i already rambled about my character there here. i guess i'm obsessed with the overall lore of the house, but i'm mostly obsessed with the way that no one knows it???? like. they never gave us a written out version despite multiple people asking and we have a lot of actors who joined late and never got a proper tour, so most of the cast doesn't know the full lore! which is not great honestly! so i'm typing it up and going to throw a link to the google doc in the work discord. also though i'm obsessed with the way that the character actors have been adding to and expanding on the lore. for example, i learned that my character has a girlfriend, because the actor who has been playing the friend searching for me has been telling patrons that they're girlfriends lol. canon gays at the haunted house!

send me a 🧠 for a long ramble about something i’m obsessed with lately

ahhhh i'm obsessed with very devoted character dynamics where one character is willing to do absolutely terrible things so that the other one doesn't have to! i just think it's very spicy. devotion to the point where you are willing to corrupt yourself so that the other person doesn't have to! i have some original stories that are in the very very early works and i'm considering switching one character dynamic slightly so that i could pull of something like that, but i think for plot reasons i would need to add a different character instead. idk man, i haven't had time to think about any of my own stories in a long long long time, but that's a type of dynamic that is very fascinating to me lately.

[hedgehog-moss]

I finally planted my garden last week! We had a couple of days of sun which gave me hope, but it's once again raining every day. Thoughts and prayers for my tomato plants, but I couldn't keep everyone in the greenhouse forever, I had to make room for other plants.

(In the fourth picture above you can see what's inside the hügelkultur mound—it's a pile of branches + llama manure + compost + potting soil. One thing I find great about it is how well it retains moisture! Well it's not a problem this year so far but during heat waves I water these plants a lot less than non-mound plants.)

In the greenhouse my seedlings have been struggling due to lack of sun. Impossible to get courgette plants so I had to buy a few from the young couple in town who recently started a plant nursery—they didn't have many either, and I had to share with the mayor who also came looking for courgette plants because slugs devoured all of his.

He must have seen on my face that I thought my plants didn't stand a chance if slugs don't even respect municipal authority, because he kindly advised me to place crowns of bedstraw (see above) around my plants to protect them. I didn't dare to ask "If it works so well why do you have no courgette plants left?" I just said thank you, and then spent an entire evening last week weaving this sticky weed into crowns and whatsapping photos of my art to the mayor, who always replied "More! More! It needs to be thicker! Like a doughnut!"

Meanwhile 1 leek in the greenhouse suddenly grew a lot thicker while the other 3 remained skinny and fearful-looking and I'm not sure why. They share a pot, so maybe it's like vanishing twin syndrome. My bell pepper seeds had the same asynchronous development issue—one pot is just now starting to have timid seedlings while the other (right next to it) already contains a grown-up plant with baby peppers:

By far my happiest greenhouse plants are the potatoes and lettuce. They shot up so fast! I've been eating a lot of lettuce lately but I can't keep up with how quickly they grow in this cold, rainy spring. And I haven't had any slug raids in the greenhouse so that's great.

My greenhouse squash, onions and pickles are still tiny and not worth a photo (harsh, but this post already has too many photos). My strawberries in the aquaponic towers are beautiful despite the lack of sun and I've been getting mini-harvests of 2-3 strawberries a day for two weeks! They're done now, but I started more seeds so maybe I can get a second round at the end of the month.

Three more things:

1. Morille helped a lot as I was planting the garden. She kept an eye on my gardening tools so no one would steal them, and sometimes used them as cheek-scratchers. At one point I put one of my beautiful bedstraw crowns around her neck so she looked like Philip III of Spain in that painting where he wears a big ruff, but tragically she ran away in outrage before I could take a picture, and when she returned she'd got rid of her collar.

2. At the cow parade the other day there was a lady at the market who sold jars of homemade pesto sauce made from all kinds of different plants, and it opened up my mind to entirely new pesto horizons!! I always make the traditional kind with basil, but I have plants that grow much faster than basil, like my rocket, so I tried making pesto with 1/3 basil 2/3 rocket (plus garlic, olive oil, parmesan, cashews) and it was so good! I have to explore all of her recipes now, like plantain or nettle or sage pesto...

3. There's a monster in the greenhouse. It appeared practically overnight and is quickly claiming more and more territory. Unlike last year it's not a parsley monster—it's my lemon balm. One day it was growing in its vertical tower, luxuriant but tidy, like a normal plant, and the next it had quintupled in volume and was threatening to swallow the nearest planter. Look at the tiny tomato plants, they look terrified of it!

I urgently need to fight back against this giant mélisse (as we call lemon balm) but I've been really busy and I keep putting it off, and then remembering anxiously at 11pm that I still have this creature to take care of, which is ironic seeing as lemon balm is supposed to relieve stress and anxiety. This is the exact opposite of why I planted you. Anyway if you never hear from me again after this post it's because I finally engaged in battle against this year's vegetal menace, and lost.

[moonbaetarot]

Pick a pile

First year of marriage

1. 2. 3.

Pile 1

Your first year of marriage is going to be very free and exciting this new chapter in your life is full of lots of new beginnings and adventures waiting for you during this year. I feel like this first year is very important to you and this marriage. You’re going to be traveling or moving a lot during this year as well. I see you having a lot of luck in your life things going your way for once. You and your future spouse had a very clear image of what life would be like after you got married so when you do you will follow through with these commitments. You may be receiving a trophy, award, certificate, license of some sort. This marriage is very balanced you and your future spouse are very compatible. You or your future spouse may work or get a job in law or a cop of some sort. You’re going to be planting your life long seeds like making a foundation for the many years and decades of love and life to come. I also see you just sitting back and wondering how this is happened like one day your reading this and the next your living life with your future spouse. You’re also going to be yourself more show more of you. I see you like creating something for yourself and your family like when a bird creates its nest so they can protect and have there babies so there may be some talk about children you may be tempted to have kids so early on in the marriage but I don’t see you having them right away. I also see that you feel very protected by your future spouse you feel like you can just relax now that you have them.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

Pile 2

You’re going to be on the right path you may have been feeling some nerves or “cold feet”. things are going to be moving very quickly after you two get married. You or your future spouse maybe even both careers is going to be important very much a hard worker Whatever this work is I see it as being very important and successful. This first year of marriage is very healing to the heart so much love and care. You may own a lot of pets with this person im seeing 2 dogs and a cat. This person is also very respected in their work. I do see y’all having a big vision about something like a house or land but you need money to get this so they are really putting in the work to be able to get this for you. There’s a lot of risk and investments that will be going into this relationship. your going to being feeling very secure you know that you will always have this person. Your future spouse Honors and respects you a lot. I feel like the masculine lets the feminine be in her energy and the feminine lets the masculine in his energy. The feminine in this relationship is mature, motherly, “house Wife” energy” you don’t even have to want or have kids yet but you radiate this energy. For some of you want kids I see a baby girl as your first. This first year of marriage is going to have lots of new things coming in for you i see it healing you emotionally a lot as well. You’re going to be realizing your purpose in life hearing “what was a made for” and this is what you were made for.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

Pile 3

Your first year of marriage is going to feel very rewarding there may have had to been lots and patience, waiting, trials and tribulations, challenges but you’re finally here and it’s finally paying off. You’re going to be celebrating this achievement. I do see you traveling a lot you may have went overseas for your honeymoon and it was really nice and relaxing. Your visions are Turing into reality you waited for these days for so long So much love and fulfillment. I feel Iike you manifested this I feel like one day you’re daydreaming about it and the next you’re living it. I feel like the years leading up to this marriage were really heavy like emotionally and physically and now that you can just breath it feels very peaceful. You or your future spouse may be very artistic or creative. The feminine here loves like a mother would very empathic, sensitive, compassionate and understanding very romantic as well. Yeah I do see things getting better for you two once you get married I don’t see this problem being between you and your future spouse but more of something or someone outside of the relationship maybe even long distance for some. This person definitely gives your princess treatment but I also see that you take care of this person really well to. Your future spouse makes you feel very emotionally secure.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

[thecapricunt1616]

Lily of the Valley - (c.b. oneshot)

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): “Yes, what is all this baby?” You asked, motioning to the roses. “Did I forget somethin? Our anniversary isn’t for another 2 months” you asked a bit nervously. Carmen wasn’t a stickler for dates, but it would break your heart if you were to forget something important. “No- no. I just…just love you- I wanted to show you, and especially after this week I know I’ve been crazy busy, and I’ve been comin’ in late and leavin’ early, and…I just wanted to show my best girl how much she means t’me” he kissed your forehead sweetly and you felt a blush creeping to your cheeks. 

O/S INSPO:  Lily of the Valley Soothing, calming, draws peace and tranquility, and repels negativity. Assists in empowering happiness and mental powers. Married couples should plant Lily of the Valley in their first garden to promote longevity of the marriage.  POSTED DATE:03/30/2024 W/C: 4,114

A/N: FINALLY!!!! I am so sorry this took forever! This O/S is based on this adorable request from the LOML @daysofyellowroses - please check out her blog! I hope this satisfies your Carmy Proposing idea! I'm sorry it took so long i've been sick, but we’re back baby!!! Requests are opennnn y'all!

WARNINGS FOR BTC: Smut, Swearing, NO USE OF Y/N - As little physical description as possible, fluffy Carmen, OC Carmy - (He's more emotionally grown obvi hahah)

You pushed the heavy, bulging tote bags full of groceries up your arm as you walked back to Your&Carmy’s shared Condo Building. The wildflower seeds you’d thrown on the little patches of grass on your walks to the train, along the sidewalk on your block had finally started to bloom. Adorable tiny little flowers in vibrant shades of blue, pink, purple, yellow, and white peeking out over the sidewalk's edge. 

Spring had most definitely sprung in Chicago by this point. Your commute whilst walking to work down Michigan Ave, passing the stunning array of tulips, had told you that fiercely every time you walked to and from the train this week on the way to work. It was finally Friday, and you couldn’t be happier. 

Carmen had been so busy this week- busier than normal. You’d usually just hang out with your best friends to fill that pathetic, lonely void while grading papers and doing your own assignments- but they were busy this week too! You were convinced the universe had bound you to loneliness this week, so naturally, all you wanted to do was get home, crawl into bed, and sleep- until Carmy came in around 2 to 3 am, and get that savored 15 minutes of cuddles after his shower, before exhaustion came over you again and you fell back asleep. 

You used your special key fob to get in the door of your condo’s shared building, which to your standards was very luxurious- it included amenities you’d never even thought of. You and Carmy had moved in together 3 months ago, it took a lot of convincing on your end. You and Carmy had lived on opposite ends of town, so every time you’d see eachother, (which was very often) -  it would be an hour's drive that he insisted- or, him losing the battle- and allowing you to take the train back all those stops. 

You weren’t particularly religious,  it was more just a personal preference - that you would be at least engaged before you were to move in together. Especially before having a mortgage together. You’d told Carmy this, and he’d given you the same answer each time over the last two years he’d been begging - “Baby we know we’re in love, you know we’re eachothers forever person - we tell eachother every day! We’ve been together 3 years, Let me take care of you” 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be taken care of- it’s just…you liked working. You loved your job, you’d went to school and earned a masters degree for Christ sake, and were currently working on your PHD. You couldn’t ever see yourself giving that up, and moving in with a boyfriend and him insisting on paying all the bills made you fear you’d fall pregnant, and then your professional life would be over. 

But, Carmen had insisted to you he wasn’t interested in children unless you were. You were sure at one point you never wanted them, but you were becoming more afraid, because seeing as amazing an uncle Carmen was, how naturally kind and understanding he was of children- it brought out something in you. It was so sudden that you could imagine turning your shared library / art studio into a nursery during slow time at work. 

You walked down the hall, in no rush to be home. The only presence waiting being your cat, Truffle, Carmy had insisted on the name due to his deep black fur. 

You approached the door, confused as to why you were hearing…music? From your apartment? You shook the hope of Carmy being home this early away, not wanting to be dissapointed. The neighbors downstairs must be blasting that same kind of jazz instrumental Carmy listens to so loud that you heard it through the floor. 

You unlock the door, and sure enough the music playing softly through the condo gets a tad louder but the first thing to catch your eye was the white and pink rose petals making a trail to the kitchen. You heard Carmy humming lightly, the sound of chopping on the cutting board. 

“Bear?” You quickly nudge the door shut with your hip, not even bothering to take your shoes off and rushing down the hall into the kitchen. Sitting atop the breakfast bar, was a vase packed with beautiful pink and white roses. 

He looks up from the cutting board “My favorite girl” he stops what he was doing immediately coming and taking the bags from your shoulders, setting them down before greeting you with a sweet kiss. He cupped your cheeks gently, pulling you in to him so you were flush together with his other hand.  

“You used our card f’that right?” He asked softly when he pulled away. You roll your eyes a bit, he had insisted you get a shared credit card, and that you purchase everything with it- and at the end of the month, he will show you the statement, and only pay a quarter of the total, just another one of the ways he assured every financial burden of yours was eased significantly. 

“Yes, what is all this baby?” You asked, motioning to the roses. “Did I forget somethin? Our anniversary isn’t for another 2 months” you asked a bit nervously. Carmen wasn’t a stickler for dates, but it would break your heart if you were to forget something important. 

“No- no. I just…just love you- I wanted to show you, and especially after this week I know I’ve been crazy busy, and I’ve been comin’ in late and leavin’ early, and…I just wanted to show my best girl how much she means t’me” he kissed your forehead sweetly and you felt a blush creeping to your cheeks. 

“That’s so sweet Bear. Thank you I love you, this is…no one’s ever done this- oh my god- are those balloons?” You giggled, seeing heart shaped foil balloons tied to your chair at the table and he smiled proudly. 

“Mmhmm, the lady at the flower place said that - we can talk about it later. You wanna cook w’me? You can just watch if you want?” He asked, gently brushing his fingers through your hair. 

“I never turn down a lesson from the best, let me go get changed real quick” you headed toward the bedroom and he stopped you by your hand pulling you back into his chest, kissing your neck with wet open mouth kisses earning a giggle that you couldn’t contain. 

“Mmm- don’t go in there right now, it’s for later. I already got your pajamas right here” he said going over to the couch and grabbing your favorite pair of sweatpants and his old ‘the beef’ tshirt that to you was the most comfortable thing in the world, especially when he wore it to bed for a few nights before giving it back. 

“For later huh?” You muse, taking off your heeled booties and unbuttoning your slacks before peeling them off and trading them for your soft fuzzy grey sweatpants. 

“Mmhmm” he hummed in response and took your pants for you and your blouse and bra as well, bringing them to the laundry room as you put the shirt on and got your hair situated into a bun. 

“What are we cooking today, chef?” You asked, heading over to the kitchen to see there were little bowls of vegetables that have been precut and you gasp happily. “Stop- are we really?” You giggled. 

“I told you that it’s easy baby but you hate eggplant so ratatouille isn’t gonna be something you’re a big fan of” he chuckled. You had watched the movie with him, and told him that the ratatouille dish looked insanely delicious and that you wanted him to make it for you, but he told you your aversion to eggplant would probably turn you off the dish. 

“But there isn’t eggplant” you said looking over the dishes filled with various vegetables. 

“That’s right, this is princess ratatouille. I’ve been figurin’ out different vegetables w’Syd that would work for it, we finally got it right. We have zucchini and a few different squashes, and we have onion and garlic, tomato, bell pepper, everything you like. I think you’ll love it baby.” He said rubbing your back gently. 

“Of course I’m gonna love it bear, I love everything we make together you have the magic touch. So what’s my job?” You asked eagerly. 

“You my special sous chef, are gonna help put the veggies in and I’m gonna do the sauce” He kissed your temple gently. 

“Ok! Let me get my apron” You said, happily turning to the drawer you kept your aprons in.

“Wait-” he said, holding your arm. You look back at him and he looked…nervous.”Is…something wrong?” You questioned, brows furrowed slightly in concern.

“No- no I um….i got you a new one” he said sheepishly, walking over to the island and opening up the cupboard beneath you never used. 

“Oh- ok..Leveling up are we?” You joked, happily leaning against the counter. 

“Jesus-” he chuckled, “Close y’r fuckin eyes- carnival psychic” he teases and you laughed, obliging and closing your eyes.

“Carnival psychic?” you asked and he came over gently putting bundle of fabric in your awaiting hands.

“I swear t’god- you went snoopin’? Open your eyes” he said. You opened your eyes, looking into your hands and seeing an apron. It was white, just like his, and folded perfectly. In thick black letters, intricately painted, ‘ Will You Marry Me? ‘ Adorned with a little red heart over the center pocket that had a square shaped bump.

You felt all of the blood leave your face, your knees feeling wobbly, your mouth gaping in to an O shape, as you stare down at the apron. “Where did you get this?” you whispered, completely awestruck. 

“I-I…um…made it?” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I- shit. Fuck- is this not how you pictured it? I’m so fuckin sorry babe- I-I thought…I dunno- like.. You wanted it private? Cause I know you said you’d never-” he’s interrupted by your lips crashing on his in a fervent wanting kiss, a mix of spit and teeth and lips and tongues, he moans softly into your mouth, squeezing your waist.

You were pressed together so firmly that the small box dug into your ribs, eventually pulling away from him with shaking hands and reaching into the pocket, pulling out the small black velvet box. You ever so carefully opened it, your breath catching in your throat when you saw the absolutely breathtaking ring.

“I-it’s not uh..not a diamond- cause I know you said-” you interrupt him

“Princesses and Queens don’t wear diamonds, they wear crystals” you finished, staring at the beautifully cut opal, at least 8 carats, banded by a intricate edwardian band… nothing short of a ring for a Goddess.

“But..But- this one…it does- it has both…because uh” he swallows thickly. “It…in my mind- when I s-saw it, it represented your soul, and your physical body.. And I liked that. Cause- y’re my diamond, but you’re also my queen, my everything, baby. Like how - how you said that…you wished your aura was opal? It is. It is, angel. And every time you look at that, I want you to remember that you’re beautiful from your diamond exterior, to your opal soul” he brushed his finger over the ring, before meeting your gaze once again.

He gently wiped the tears that were running down your cheeks freely, hot and wet and open. It was rare that Carmy genuinely used his words rather then his actions to express his love for you, so you were nothing short of savoring this. “Holy fucking shit” you laughed, shaking your head and looking down at the ring box. “Put it on my hand” you held your left hand out. 

He chuckled a bit, “so… yes? You will?” he asked carefully, pulling the ring out of the box.

“Are you kidding, YES! Put this ring on my finger and fuck me dumb- this is all i’ve ever wanted, Bear, I fucking love you- and youre asking if I want you to be my husband?! I’ve wanted nothing more for two years- at least!” you shake your left hand for emphasis, a wide large grin on your face.

He carefully slid the ring over your manicured finger, and it just made you cry more how it fit perfectly. “How do you know my size?!” you asked, since most of the vintage rings he'd bought you were adjustable so it didn't matter the size of the rings he’d gotten for you before.

He chuckled a bit, “so- y’re ring…y’know the one…y’thought you lost it at Chipotle like…ahhh- 8 months ago now? In the bathroom? Y’took it off at the table, you wore it on your ring finger so I had to take my chance. You kept sayin how it was like- the only ring you’d found that fit without takin’ it to the jewler. So uh” he dug in his jeans pocket, placing your beloved vintage ring with your starsign on it in your palm.

“I got that ring, based on the size. I got it uhhh…sorry dont be offended- it’s not new… I got it at an estate sale of this lady- it was crazy- the way I came across it babe… like fate. It was when Syd and I went to New York for that interview, she literally dragged me to this sale cause she said the lady who died was said to have a bunch of vintage fur and stuff she was looking f’somethin- anyway. We met the lady’s daughter- Stella? I think it was? Doesn’t matter… but she um..said her Ma was some crazy astrology nut, also said she only wore crystals. So I took a look… that was the first box I opened. And y’ring on my pinky, it fit perfect, so I tried it on- it fit like a glove. I’m glad we don't have to size it. Asked her if it was real, she said - her Ma told ‘er some…. Like life coach? Er- astrologer life coach author? Gave it to ‘er on a trip to Jamaica in the 60’s. Told ‘er ‘this ring will someday be worn on a hand proudly as a devotion of true love’- Miss- No! Madame ! Madame Stardust. Nutty name right?” he chuckled a bit. 

You smiled proudly at the ring, a devotion of true love indeed. “I think” you turned to the counter, stacking the bowls of vegetables together and putting them in the fridge as you friskily countered “you are not going in to work at all next week- wifes orders” you walked over to him, hips swaying. “And after you fuck me absolutely stupid” you grabbed his collar, pulling him in so your faces were meer inches apart “Oh- and we talk about how this mademe stardust? Confirms that our souls are indeed woven together like a fucking wicker basket” you kiss him roughly, weaving your fingers through his dirty blonde curls and tugging firmly. 

He moaned into your mouth, his hands trailing down and squeezing your ass firmly. You hummed in satisfaction, leaning against him and he stumbled back, back, back, pushing the bedroom door open with a squeak. You looked up, Breaking your kiss with wide eyes.

All throughout the bedroom, were printed photos of you and Carmy throughout the years, suspended with clear wire so it was as if the photos were floating midair. You clasp your hands over your mouth, admiring all the hard work and pure thought that had went into the gesture. You looked over all the photos, three years of memories hanging before you like a gallery of love surrounding you, all of your fondest happiest memories at every flicker of your eyes.

“Carmen” you whispered, walking forward and admiring each and every photograph…

He comes behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“Y’know how you said no work next week…” he said softly, kissing up your neck with wet, sexy, open mouthed kisses. “We leave Sunday… F’Cyprus” He said hotly in your ear, his breath tickling your neck causing a moan to escape your lips as he gently lifts your shirt, palming your breast gently.

“Is- is that-” you breathe out

“We’re getting a tour of Aphrodites Baths” he said softly, rolling your taught nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Ah- y-you remembered?” you gasped, he let out a soft deep chuckle, Kissing the corner of your mouth and gently laying you down upon the soft sheets of your shared bed. 

“I’d have proposed over a year ago- when I got the fuckin’ ring if i coulda gotten us the tour sooner” he muttered into your skin, tugging off your- (his) shirt, leaving supple, gentle kisses over your stomach and up your ribs.

“Mm- are we- can we swim?” I asked hopefully.

He  gently wipes your tears away, “No” he said a bit sadly, “We can dip our hands… some asshole ruined swimming for people years ago…before we met…but- we were also gonna Parga Greece, baby. We’re spending 2 days in Cyprus, then flying to Parga on a charter- we can swim, fuck, do whatever in those waters baby. Amidst the Goddess of the Underworld f’five whole days” he smirked and you gasped, as if he’d gotten you the moon on a string.

“The Acheron River?” you whisper and he nodded, gently rubbing his thumb over your lips.

“That is the sexiest thing i’ve ever heard in my life- you’re gonna make me cum in the 2nd most famous river of Hell?” you giggled and he snorts a laugh, pushing you on the bed gently.

“Fuck yeah, you little fuckin’ freak” he teased, tugging off your panties and sweatpants in one swift pull, leaving you soaked and bare before him.

You gasped at the rough action, quickly being soothed by soft, sweet kisses over your hipbones. 

“I fuckin smell y’kitten fuck” he growled, kissing the inner of your thigh in the way that made you creen. 

“Shit- good- right? If y’compared me to a seafood market i’d break your nose” you teased, hooking the crooks of your knees over his shoulders, shivering when he leaned in closer, his hot breath directly over your clit- his lapis blue eyes boring into yours.

“That question doesn’t deserve an answer” he grumbled hotly, spreading your folds with his fingers and admiring the wet, slick, mess in front of him. “S’fuckin pretty princess- fuckin’ prettiest pussy in the world” he nearly moaned, burrying his mouth where you needed him most, eyes fixed on yours.

You couldn’t even make a sound- a hot breathy gasp escaping your slack-jawed stance as your head flopped back on the mattress with a soft bounce. “Mmmmm shit” Carmy hummed, satisfied with your taste as if he was devouring his favorite dessert.

“F-Ffuuuckkk” you whimpered out pathetically, voice cracking and bleeding out between the fracture lines of your hot intense pleasure.

“Mmhmm-mmmhmmm” Carmy mumbled confidently against your now firm clit, tongue flicking over it at a mind-numbing pace, bringing you right to the edge and hanging you there by a single finger.

“Ahhhh-Ahhhh-Fuck!! Carmy! Oh- ohhhh!!!” You whined, spine pointing in an arch off the mattress, your hips and thighs quivering and shaking wildly as your orgasm crashed over you like hot lightning before you could even warn him, or know yourself it was so close.

“Goooood girl, thats it- mm- my good fuckin’ girl- Y’gonna be my fuckin’ wife baby? Mmm? Gonna be mine? F’rever?” He grumbled, placing a gentle kiss to your clit before placing gentle yet firm pressure over it with the pad of his tongue that made your hips buck with a mind of their own.

He chuckled slightly into your heat, the vibration causing you to whine pathetically. “Y-yes-yes-fuck i’mfuckinyoursBear-y’gonnamakemey’wife? Yeah? Gonna make me Mrs. fuckin Carmen Berzatto?” you slurred, pulling him into a messy wanting kiss, soughing at the flavor of your core coating his spit.

“Fuckin- spit in my fucking mouth- claim me” you groaned. He smiled against your lips, pulling away slightly, a thick hot string of saliva connecting the two of you.

“So fuckin dirty” he grumbled with a smirk “Open that filthy fucking mouth” he ordered, getting quiet for a moment as he gathered saliva in the front of his mouth.

You obeyed him immediately - your jaw going slack, tongue stuck out ever so slightly and eyes fluttered shut. Then- you felt it, hot, sweet, salty saliva coating your tongue, you groan at the flavor as it continues pooling over your tastebuds. “Do not fucking swallow yet- greedy girl” he tapped your chin firmly, before pulling your jaw open wider with Tthe pad of his thumb. 

“Stick out that pretty little tongue” he grumbled, you obeyed with a smile, opening wide as you could, sticking your tongue out far, showing off the creamy white saliva he’d dressed your tongue in, so much it was seeping down onto your chin, threatening to coat the front and back of your throat.

“Good girl- that's my good little kitten” he purred, “How d’you want me princess?” he gently collected the excess saliva from your chin on his thumb, sucking it off his digit hotly as he awaits your response while you swallow gratefully, the taste setting your soul ablaze.

“I want you to fucking claim me, Carmy, holy fuck- use me, worship me, fuck me like a goddamn animal- whatever you fucking want- please” you begged after you’d savored the taste while you swallowed, his sky blue eyes going dark as navy slacks with lust at the admission. 

“Yeah? Why not all three?” he pushed you down to the mattress by your throat, not hard enough to bruise- but hard enough for the breath to leave your lungs and your core to throb so hard you were clenching your thighs, trying to give any solace of pressure to your swollen aching clit.

“P-please” you stuttered, writhing against the mattress and he chuckled darkly. 

“Are we a little needy? Mmm princess?” he pushes your knees apart with his thigh, aiding the throbbing pressure with his strong fingers, rubbing firm, slow circles into the twitching bud that made your hips snap into the mattress and head fall back to the bed, eyes rolling back with a sharp gasp of pleasure. 

“Pl-please-” you gasp out, spine arching sharply as he replaced his fingers with his mouth on your clit, 2 fingers slipping inside of you with no resistance due to the fact your core was so soaked it was beginning to pool at the dip of your bum and soak the sheets. The squelching as he pumped into your g-spot mixed with your high-pitched moans and frisky growls was absolute sin.

He opens his jaw wider, tonguing your entrance wildly and nuzzling his strong nose against your clit in broad strokes, randomly flicking back and forth quickly making you squeal in pleasure as you grind against his mouth, fully out of control of your movements as if you were a puppet on a string.

“H-Hooooo-i’m cumming- oh- don’t you dare fucking stop Carmen” you growled, grabbing his curls and pullinghim further into your core. “I’m cumming- i’mcumming-holy-holyfuck-imfuuuckiing-AAAH!” your thighs and hips shake and quiver, stars of ethereal white filling your vision.

“Mmhmmm” he grumbled, coming up and sucking your nipple with his slick lips, his chin and nose soaked with your arousal, so much so his chin dripped onto your ribs. 

“H-Oh-yes Bear” you whined out, head tilting to meet his gaze. “I need you- I-I need you inside- like- fuck- when you- you have my knees around your hips and y-you fuckin’- just drill me Carmy- I need that- need you deep” You reverberated wantingly, wrapping your thighs around his waist taughtly, making it easier for him to take you exactly how you wanted.

“Jesus Christ- I can’t fuckin’ stand y’baby. Y’re like a fuckin’ drug- it’s like I fuckin’ function unless I’ve had a hit” he nibbed your collarbone, quickly removing his jeans and boxers, aligning himself with your entrance.

You gave him a mischievous smile, inching your hips forward. “C’mon- I don’t give a fuck ‘bout cooking right now- fuck me absolutely dumb- then take me to Sam’s f’r chocolate chip pancakes- sure that waitress will be over the moon bout my ring” you mused, capturing our lips together, as he scoops up your shoulders and holds you chest to chest, your third of many orgasms that night building throughout every muscle.

It was going to be a long night….

[redbatchedcumbermayned]

It all started under a duvet held up by an oar

Not so long ago I emailed Chris Tester, the voice of Heinrix van Calox in Owlcat’s recently released CRPG Rogue Trader, and asked if he would like to sit for an interview with me. Having some experience in interviewing people I like, most famously Oscar winner and all-around sweetheart Eddie Redmayne, this was not a completely nerve-wracking endeavour. And within a day of sending my email, Chris said yes. And what a pleasure it was interviewing him: Chris was so generous with his time, that the agreed upon 30 minutes turned into 50 minutes as we brushed upon many topics from his start as a theatre actor to his first voice-over role in a video game to his recently discovered hobby of playing D&D. Of course, we also spoke about all things Warhammer 40k, his new found fame brought on by voicing Heinrix and the insights he could share about the character.

I will publish this interview in three parts over the next week in text form and with the accompanying audio file (the audio quality is not spectacular but tumblr limits uploads to 10MB). If you quote or reshare, please quote me as the original source.

Part 2 of the interview

Part 3 of the interview

Fran: Thank you very much for taking your time.

Chris Tester: That's no problem. No problem at all.

F: So then let's start. You graduated in 2008.

CT: I did. Yes.

F: You started out as a stage actor. Did you always want to become a stage actor or an actor in general? Tell us a bit about your career.

CT: I always wanted to be a stage actor. Yes, as soon as I knew that I wanted to be an actor, which probably wasn't until I was a teenager. But yeah, my first passion was always the stage, and that was kind of borne out in my career. I would have been open to TV and film of course, if it had come along, I'm a huge fan of TV and film as well, but I never got an audition for any TV or film work.

I think I literally did about three short films in my 10, 12 years of actually professionally acting, and it is one of those industries where the more you do of one thing, the more you seem to find yourself doing the same thing to a degree. So yes, watching Shakespeare from an early age was one of my first passions.

And that was what first planted the seed of wanting to do it myself. The whole aspect of live performance is still something that I'm very passionate about. Up until 2020, when the world changed, I was trying to do two or three theatre shows a year, but since 2020, I haven't been near a stage and I doubt right now, especially with the way that the UK theatre scene is going, that I'm going to be back on stage anytime soon. I am resigned to that, but at some point in my career, I know I will be on stage again, because I can't live without it, but only for the right thing, both financially, but more importantly, creatively.

F: Your production company is currently on hiatus?

CT: I was the producer of a theatre company, which was run and was the baby of the director of the company, a guy called Ross Armstrong, who's one of the most talented writers and directors that I've ever worked with. I was helping out with a lot of the administration stuff so that he could still put me in plays. Instead of creating my own work because I'm not a very good writer or the best writer in the world, I support those people who will write me good parts. So yes, it is currently on hiatus, but never say never, we would always be looking to get back. It's difficult right now. It's difficult for all of us, because arts council subsidy, that way of being able to fund stuff, is drying up. We were doing a national tour of the UK when we were doing that [with the support of a subsidy]. There's even less money, there's even more people. I won't bore you with anything more than that, but it's kind of tough. We'd like to come back, but in the right way, and that's tricky to negotiate.

F: It's always hard as a stage actor to earn a living.

CT: Well, I've been spoiled by voice-over as well, and whereas when I was in my 20s and 30s then you're all about your art. And of course, I'm still all about my art, but I'm also about my wife and my cat and the mortgage and the bills and wanting to have nicer things to a degree as well. I've come to terms with that and voice-over does facilitate that as well as it opens you up to different roles and working with different people. So, I can't complain.

F: It's quite similar with making a living as a writer, because with a steady income you get used to a certain standard of living and once you have obligations and bills to pay, I think the stress on your mental health being creative and having all the stresses of regular life thrust upon you brings with it a challenge.

CT: It's a cliche we can very easily fall into: if I'm suffering, then it means I'm an artist. And that's not necessarily very true. It very often means that the art that we create only reflects one aspect of our lives, and it's usually a very tortured one. I am also about having wider experiences and broadening myself out. Whereas I think when I was in my twenties, I was thinking a bit more like: Oh, I'll experience the world and life through my art and just purely through my art. Whereas now necessarily I need to have a life outside of it as well, and then I can justify like I have the life so that I can feed my art or not, whatever. You know, I'll be a better artist by having a bit of a life outside of it. Maybe.

F: But that's what your twenties are for.

CT: Yeah, indeed.

F: Doing the crazy stuff, doing the band stuff 

CT: Yeah, yeah, exactly. So, there was certainly an aspect of that in my twenties.

F: So, what brought you to voice acting or voice-over work initially?

CT: Money. Video game stuff is kind of sexy and cool, and I'm a gamer, so that's important. Before I was a video gamer, I was a board gamer and off the back of that, I was a voracious video gamer, partly because I wasn't very good at team sports at school. I was always the person who was picked last in the football team. So that becomes part of your identity for better or worse. But video games, I was pretty good at, not amazing, but I was pretty good at, and I enjoyed it. And it gave me a different form of escapism as well, and off the back of that I always had an interest in them. 

So, the very first voiceover job was a video game: Dark Souls, which is quite a big franchise. At that time, I was your very typically jobbing actor. My acting agent came in and said: I got something for you. And so, I went in with that. But it was only in 2016, 2017 that I realised it was something that you could actually do yourself. People had recording studios at home and they were contacting people directly, not just going through agents. Because I'd basically written to the same 20 voice agents in the UK, mainly in London for like eight years in a row and not received anything. So, you keep knocking on those doors hoping. 

Before I'd even graduated from drama school, I'd burnt a CD and made these cases with my headshot on it and sent them all off at what at the time felt like great personal expense and didn't get anything for eight years in a row.  So, I was a bit like, I'm obviously doing something wrong, but I don't really know what, because I'm doing these workshops and getting good feedback. Then I found out through a couple of online courses, that there were ways and means of doing it myself, and that was a bit of a game changer for me, and within six months of having started, I was earning more through voice work than the bar job and the box office job that I was doing combined. Within six months, I was kind of like: “I gotta quit because I'm actually holding myself back from things.” So that was quite a big shift.

F: Somewhere you said, you started out under a duvet and with an oar.

CT: Yeah. On my website, I do have an image of it. [Dear reader, I could not locate this elusive photo] I literally had to take the duvet off my bed and put it into the living room, which was the quietest space in my then shared flat. I also had to wait until after one flat mate had watched TV and another one had used the table that had their washing on it. One of my flat mates had stolen an oar from some night out and that was perfect in order to be able to erect it over my head and the duvet as a frame. 

I did probably the first four or five months of voice recording like that. Probably about 10, 15 voiceover jobs that I actually got paid for, I was using that because it worked well enough. Since then, I've gone through various different iterations of a setup in the bedroom, to a setup in the hallway, to my current setup. In 2020 we moved to our first house, and this is the spare bedroom which I've had converted into a studio, which means my cat can be here asleep on me or near me getting fur everywhere, but it's fine. I can thrash around and I've got natural light to work in at the same time, which I find quite important. [Pictured below Chris' current setup.]

F: Very pretty. That's good. Guide us through a typical day of yours, if you like.

CT: Oh, sure. I mean, there is no typical day. And yet, and yet, and yet. A typical day for me is, because I am spending the vast majority of the day sitting in this room or somewhere close to this room, because I may need to record at short notice, because the vast majority of jobs are quite short notice. My priority is exercise for mental health more than anything. I've got some weights at the bottom of the garden, and I will get up first thing, and I will go there and I will do that after breakfast. And that's my minimal routine of physical activity done. 

And then I'll come back, and this is so rock and roll. Now what I do is, I spend like an hour on LinkedIn. And that's what you dreamed of as a creative person. Isn't it as an actor? I spend time on LinkedIn regularly every day, because it's a really good networking place for a lot of my types of work, and first thing in the morning, I'm a bit mentally sharper. So that's when I come up with a quick post that may be inspired by a bit of content that I've made elsewhere. That probably takes about 20 minutes and then I spend another 45 minutes to an hour engaging with people and saying hi and introducing myself and asking questions, whether that's with video producers or game developers or documentary makers or pretty much anything and everything. There are a lot of people who are active at that time. And so I do it.

And then after that, if I already have some recording lined up, then I'll prioritise mid-morning, because I've warmed up physically a bit more then, and I'm focused. So, you're going through the scripts, annotating the scripts, recording the scripts, editing the scripts. But then there could be live sessions at any time within that as well. I try to keep hours from nine till six. But occasionally, like with Rogue Trader, that was recorded at various different times of the day because we had people in New York, we had people in mainland Europe, and we had people in the UK. So all different time zones, so that can happen at any time. 

And then I try to do other kinds of bits and pieces of marketing whenever I've got free time to. I do use really exciting productivity hacks, like time blocking. Again, not something that as a creative individual, I was like: Oh God, this gets me so excited, because it doesn't, but it works. It's finding a system that works for you, but still has a certain kind of flexibility and fluidity. I'm trying to make sure that I get outside of the house, and that kind of stuff. 

Recently, over the last year, I’ve started doing audiobooks as well. That long form type of thing is quite nice to be able to dip into because sometimes you don't record for two, three days. You don't get the work. Nothing’s coming in. So, you’re marketing, but it kind of connects you back to the performance side of things to go: I can do a few chapters and you know, that kind of thing. So that's probably it. I try to formalise it, but you know, every voice actor’s day is radically different. There are people, some of the biggest names, going into different studios every week or every day. I very rarely, despite being based in London, I very rarely go into external studios. Like I would say 99 percent of the work I just do from home.

F: So how do you find the right voice for the specific type of voiceover work you do, maybe start with how did you find Heinrix's voice?

CT: Thankfully, Owlcat sent through quite a detailed casting breakdown. So, you get a picture, and that's pretty crucial, as well as a short bio, in terms of the background of the character, but not too much, because you have to sign an NDA, a non-disclosure agreement. But even if you do sign an NDA, I think developers are always slightly hesitant of giving you too much info about the game because things could still be changed. But I think I did get a picture of Heinrix, if not in the first audition, then certainly on the second one. From that you immediately think about the physicality and what might affect the voice, and there was also some direction in terms of what they were looking for. Anybody who has heard the character and me, they do not sound radically dissimilar. There's not a transformative process that I needed to go through, other than his sense of authority and the space that he takes up and the sureness that he has in that he has a kind of divine right from the emperor, so that level of confidence being brought through.

The other part of the audition was about the void ship [the Black Ship] that he'd been raised in and the horrors that he'd seen. And you as the actor have to do the detective work to go like this is showing another side, the more vulnerable side, the side that underpins all of his life choices up to this point. It's essentially playing the opposite to a degree. So it was kind of knowing when to let those elements bleed through a little bit. I think I had probably about a page worth of scripts, quite a lot of script actually to audition with. 

But I don't like to listen back to it a lot, because I think you get into your head. My biggest thing is stage work where it's ephemeral. You say it once and it could be different the next night. The whole point is that there's no one definitive way of doing things. Not quite the same with voice acting, where it's being recorded and you've got to get used to hearing it back. But I try not to overthink it. Just like record it two or three times with different impulses and then review and go like, those two seem pretty contrasting. I'll send those along and hope and then never hear anything back unless I do.

[thefrontofmymind]

Proof Positive 6

a/n: me uploading another part of this? who would have thought? (seriously though im sorry life got in the way quite badly ://)

series masterlist

You could hear chatter through the other end of the phone as Ross excused himself from the greenroom in whatever venue they were playing that night.

"How are you and the little 'un?" He asked in a gentle tone that echoed through the cinder block hallway he was standing in.

"We're good! Baby's the size of a strawberry now!" You answered excitedly. You never thought you'd be the person to track every day of your pregnancy, but when you got that first notification from your app saying your baby was the size of an orange seed, you couldn't help but get stirred by the fact that there was a real, living human growing inside of you.

A baby that was half you and half Ross—a pairing you never even thought about, but now your heart grew fonder with every shy smile, kiss, and tender hand touch.

"How was the show last night?"

"Oh, brilliant!" Ross exclaimed. You loved hearing him so animated when talking about his work. It reminded you of when you first met him, a bright-eyed twenty-four-year-old just starting to tackle the world.

"Wish you were here though...miss you so much..." he finished his spiel.

"Just think, when you get back to London, we'll be far along enough to tell everyone," you said with a smile.

"Can't wait to tell the guys, they'll shit!"

You heard some kind of shuffle on the phone; you could just make out the words.

"Can't wait to tell us what?" George's voice. Unmistakable.

Crap!

"Um..." Ross chuckled. "Uh.."

You couldn't help but laugh through the phone at Ross' attempts to string at least one sentence together.

"Seriously! What?!"

You might just have a way out of this. Maybe.

"Give George the phone," you told Ross, calm and collected.

You heard another shuffle as the phone was handed off.

"Hi...who's this?" George asked in a cautious voice.

"It's me!" You answered.

"Oh, hi! How are you going?" He asked, now excited. "What do you and Ross want to tell us all, then?"

"Well..." You trailed off, not quite sure how to word it. "Me and Ross... are me and Ross."

"Oh shit!" George laughed. then directed his attention to Ross, who was standing frozen in front of him. "You dog! How long has this been going on?"

"A couple months," Ross replied to him.

A notification came through on your laptop in front of you, an email with a subject line that started with "URGENT!"

"Okay, I gotta go, I have to get back to work."

"Alright, I'll hand you back to your boyfriend," George said with a grin, that even though you couldn't see it, you knew it was there.

"Gotta go, love you," you said once Ross was back on the phone.

"Love you too! see you in 3 weeks!"

"Counting down the days!" You replied, hanging up and getting back to work.

~~~

You’d lived in a bubble, really. It was almost like it wasn’t all quite real yet. You weren’t showing, and no one—well, barely anyone—knew. You tried not to think of this mess you and Ross had made, but with a random fleeting thought over one weekend, your palms gained a clammy sheen that you couldn’t get rid of.

You always tried to keep your head straight in times of stress; you were a pragmatist at heart, and as often as you could get lost in nihilism veiled as just being "realistic," you just wanted to rip the bandaid off and get everything out in the open to deal with the consequences, whatever they may be.

You sipped your takeaway coffee as you entered the Dirty Hits offices—decaf, unfortunately—and said a bright ‘good morning’ to the people you passed. You had a small desk by a window facing the street, which the miniature monstera plant sitting on a stack of some old quarterly reports loved when the sun was angled so perfectly to warm it every morning.

You could feel yourself shaking deep within your bones. You’d never been someone who got so wrapped up in the romance of the moment, but now, looking back, you realised you’d done just that. 

Today, you were exactly thirteen weeks along. It was now much less risky to start telling people, namely yours and Ross’ employer, Jamie. 

You had a direct view of him from your ergonomic desk chair, through the glass door of his office.

Rip the bandaid.

You stood quickly, like if you were to think about it too long, your legs would stop you, and strided to his office. With a gentle knock, you opened the door and leaned into the room.

“Could we have a quick chat? If you’re not busy.”

His face brightened when he saw you; he was always happy to see you, and you him. There was a certain bond between the two of you. It came down to faith and loyalty to each other. He’d given you a chance to pretty much build this entire label with him from the ground up, and you’d put your faith in him—and the band you’ve known all this time—that it would be a worthy investment. And in all these years, you’ve never strayed and been rewarded greatly for it—even more than Jamie even knew, well, for the next couple minutes anyway.

“How’ve you been, love? How was LA? I meant to shoot you a text, but I was busy with the girls this weekend, you know?” He rambled.

“It was good, Coachella was great.” You moved to sit in one of the plush leather—or was it a well-made pleather?—chairs in front of his pinewood desk.

“Didn’t get into too much trouble, then?”

You let out a chuckle. “No, no, not at all.” You let out a sigh. “There is something I need to bring up with you…”

A look of concern spread across his face. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”

“Um…” You let out a sigh. “I’m…having a baby.”

“Holy shit!” He smiled and bounced out of his seat and around his desk to give you a tight hug. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” you beamed back.

“Who’s the father? If you don’t mind me asking.” He scuttled back to his comfy swivel chair. “Or is it a ‘you’re doing it on your own’ sort of thing?”

You could feel heat travelling up your chest, your neck, your ears, and settling in your cheeks.

“That’s the bit that’s a bit... difficult,” you slowly sputtered out.

“Oh, do you now know who the father is? Sorry.”

“No, I know who it is.” Rip the bandaid. “It’s Ross.”

Jamie didn’t say anything for a moment, but you could see the cogs turning in his head behind his eyes, processing the information.

“Like…” He mimed playing a bass. “Our Ross?”

“Yeah,” you answered awkwardly. “We’ve been together for a little bit now, just keeping it quiet. But I’ll be showing soon, so...”

A smile stretched across his face. “I’m very happy for the two of you. Really.”

“Thanks,” you smiled back.

[trashmouth-richie]

series masterlist

series summary: Hawkins Annual Halloween Festival is in town, and this year you and your friends were lucky enough to work the event. But when some of your co-workers are missing, and a trail of blood leads to the woods behind the festival. Your friends work together to find out what’s going on. A killer is on the loose but who could it be? Or is it the town’s spooky secret of what really happened at Hawkins Lab?

chapter summary: darkness falls, reader takes a trip down memory lane with eddie, corroded coffin performs, the things start to go bump in the night.

chapter warnings: major character death, violent death, minor character death, blood, gore, monster descriptions, slaughter.

CH 3. THE ROCKSTAR AND THE REDLIGHTS

The green puddle of freshly brewed puke slapped hard and wet along the ground.

Another victim of Eddie, who long ago threw away the rule book and Creels poem about ride times.  

You slam another dollar into his outstretched cocky palm, hoping it stung. 

“Well thank you m’lady,” he says, batting his eyelashes, his dimple digging deep into his cheek, “Eddie 3, Pebs zilch, zero, nothing!” 

You shove him hard in the chest and it only makes him laugh harder, “c’mon sweetheart, you know I’m just fuckin with ya.” His big brown eyes squeeze at the edges and his lip turns to a frown when you throw up your chin and a middle finger his way. 

“S’not fair,” you pout, “you have control of the rides!” 

Eddie waves you off and pockets the cash, “Don’t be a sore loser.” 

Arms crossed you stare high above him, “ ‘m not!”  

You were. 

Always had been. 

Racing down the bumpy lane of Forest Hills Trailer park, Eddie’s clumsy ass would somehow always win, even when you had gotten new tennis shoes in the summer of ‘79. 

You’d pout and Eddie would spend the rest of the day trying to win you over. You always were a flair for the dramatics, but he never did mind your pouty lips and furrowed brow. 

In his eyes, there just wasn’t any other girl who could  compare. 

He slings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into a death grip of a hug. Pinning your arms tight against his chest so you couldn’t move,  he shook his long hair in your face, the curls tickling your nose until you squealed, and gave up. A surprised heat in your cheeks. 

He’s out of breath, a Cheshire grin on his face and deep huffs fan across the apples of your cheeks, fluttering your eyelashes. His grip hasn’t wavered, and you’re pretty sure you haven’t breathed at all as you look up at him, giggling. 

His fingers move to your jaw, and down the slope of your neck, fingering the necklace and the neckline of your shirt. 

Eddie blinks slowly and wets his lips, you can feel the pounding from both of your chests as you look up at him through your lashes with a stuttering breath. 

“Still mad at me, baby?” 

The shiver that runs down your body and hits like a lightning strike in your underwear is colossal. Baby. You’d hang onto that pet name the rest of your days. 

“I never was.” 

He smirks, and something that had been developing for years was suddenly flourishing, seeds planted and finally getting the sunlight and water that was needed to grow the crop. 

Whatever breath you let out he inhaled, but before he could move in closer, the familiar clink of Creel’s cane was right beside you and you both straightened up and put on a serious face. 

He looked deranged. You had never seen the black crumbled mess of teeth left in his mouth but suddenly they were on display, gums rotted, red and swollen around each jagged edge of decay. 

“I'm pulling the plug on rides, we’re starting the concert early, get these kids off here, you got fifteen minutes, hurry up!” He barked, before clicking away his cane hitting the gravel as he muttered nonsense to himself.  

“Oh fuck,” Eddie spins and quickly brings levers forward and backward, unlocking each basket full of teenagers and shooing them away. 

Locking up the rides with the heavy chains and locks, you snap the padlock shut ensuring its strength and join Eddie in his quickened pace to the rear entrance of the carnival where the stage was set up for Eddie’s band Corroded Coffin. 

Your mind is spinning with what ifs and did we just almost kiss? You wonder if he felt the same jolt of electricity you felt when you hadn’t leaned away from him. Wiping sweaty palms on your shorts you work hard on evening your breathing as you both stomped in the dirt with racing minds in silence towards the stage. 

—

“One cotton candy, a small popcorn and a medium Coke, two straws.” 

Steve pulls out his leather wallet and pays with a crisp fifty. Nancy frowns and rolls her eyes. 

“What?” Steve says, nonchalantly, tucking the change back into his tight jeans having changed once all the ice cream was gone and he closed shop, “It’s all I have.” 

Nancy sighs,  “thank you,” she says to the man behind the booth counter, reaching up and grabbing the sweet and salty snacks.

The man grumbles something under his breath, and slams the window shut with a snap, flicking the lights off just as quick. 

Nancy turns to follow Steve, matching his footsteps looking over her shoulder at the now foggy and desolate windows of the concessions booth they were just at. 

“That was weird,” she said softly, mostly to herself. 

Steve dives a large veiny hand into the popcorn, shoveling kernels into his mouth like he couldn’t get enough of the tasty treat. 

“I know right?” He says crunching through the buttery snack, “five dollars for burnt popcorn that tastes like buttcrack, what a fucking ripoff.” 

Nancy shakes her head, “yet you're still eating it?”

Steve ponders this but keeps eating, “I’m hungry Nance, Creel never gave me a break, and Robin fucking bailed on me.”

“You poor thing,” Nancy feigns to humor him, “need me to draw you a bath and rub your feet?” 

“You can rub something else if you’re offer— okay! okay, it was a joke, jeez!” 

Nancy thumped Steve one more time on his ear for good measure, “I meant that guy… he didn’t seem right.” 

Steve shrugs, “is anyone at this place? Fuck, look around.”

It was true, more people showed up to start working than any of you had anticipated, all looking stranger and sort of sickly, like they hadn’t seen daylight in years nor having the common skill to hold a conversation. 

“I'm just happy this holiday is almost over, I hate Halloween. ” she shudders, allowing herself to be tucked into the crook of Steve’s arm, slurping the flat pop and grimacing at its soured taste. 

—

The spray painted bed sheet reading “Corroded Coffin” rippled with the light breeze, the boys had already been setting up, Eddie’s warlock tucked safely into the worn guitar case by his microphone. 

“Nervous?” you ask as he breeches the steps. Grabbing an amp and moving it around to his liking. 

Eddie blows air through his mouth, as he lowers an amp down, “nah, never— its like breathing to me y’know? Second nature or whatever you wanna call it.” 

You nod along , hiding a smile with your hand curled into your lips, and you don’t see the way he smiles at you. His muse. He’d written songs about you for years now, ones he scribbled into a composition notebook and shoved into the depths of his mattress and the wall. 

His fingers reach out to pick a stray thread from the sleeve of your shirt, and the heat from his fingers pricks at your skin. 

“Gonna be where I can see you?” he asks, already knowing the answer but wanting to relish in your words, knowing that you were here for him. And you’d be in the crowd, front and center staring up at him. 

“Always am.” 

And there it was again, the shock the magnets pulling you two together. Him leaning on one knee down to you and your face looking up at him like he hung the moon. 

“Munson! Hurry up, that old creepy bastard didn’t give us any fuckin’ time!”  

—-

The trees were spinning. She was certain of that. Robin may not have the greatest sense of direction and when she stumbled into the woods on floaty brain cells and twinkly red eyes, the thought of getting lost hadn’t crossed her mind once. 

The hallucinations hadn’t stopped when she saw Vickie’s body hanging limply from that tree. She swore she heard two men yelling at each other, blaming one another for something they had lost. 

After over an hour of tripping over branches and a sour smelling buck covered in its own blood, Robin finally emerged from the treeline, more confused than when she went in. 

-

The screech from Eddie’s microphone made the crowd cover their ears in unison and he mutters a shit, sorry, with his hair hanging in his face.

The moon was large, shining a burnt dandelion yellow shaded by the dark indigo clouds.

You loved watching Corroded Coffin play. Going from their garage band days to performing on top of Eddie’s trailer for his birthday, and when they scored Tuesday nights at the Hideout— you, Eddie and the rest of the band drank until you were all sick, throwing up all over Jeff’s basement. Now they were playing a real outdoor event, and you couldn’t be more proud of your friend being one step closer to chasing his dreams. 

They’d been playing for the better half of an hour, the crowd singing along to today's favorites heard on the radio, requested specifically by Creel. It didn’t take long for Eddie to learn them, his ears could tune a fart in a steel bucket. 

Robin was clutching onto you, screaming lyrics along with Eddie and guzzling beer after warm beer, trying like hell to numb the feeling of rejection. She came stumbling out from a makeshift bar, a sinister look in her eyes, and when you asked what was going on— she shook her head and told you it was just the redrum. 

The buzz you were feeling from earlier never left, and it was or like you’d seen Eddie in a whole new light. As if he had transformed before your very eyes, shaking free of his chrysalis and spreading the beauty of his wings. 

His toothy wide smile. The dimples that caught in his cheeks whenever he found your eyes and winked your way. The way his curls lengthened and swayed across his back when he turned to Gareth and put a foot on his drum to thrash his guitar. 

He was breathtaking. 

The passion he held for music and the way it flowed through him was truly bewitching. And if you hadn’t known better you would have sworn you were under a trance. 

He reeked of talent, and you knew he would go far, leaving Hawkins and you behind in a cloud of dust. The thought of his dream coming true left traitorous tears in your eyes and you wiped at them hastily. 

When his guitar started to crane out, “Rocky Mountain Way”  your heart fell into your stomach. 

You remember the day he showed up on your doorstep, pants shorter than they should have been and out of breath, begging you to come over. 

Did you do it? 

His dimples already gave him away as he drug you behind him running all the way to Wayne’s trailer.

“Hurry P, hurry! Go on, sit down!”

“Alright Eddie,” you said in a pout, sitting down with a huff on the shag living room rug next to Wayne’s work boots, “ jeez you about tore my arm off! What’s going on?”

“Shh! I need to focus!”

Once you were situated, and his guitar was tuned up, he started the opening notes to the song. He tried to mimic his voice to Joe Walsh’s as best as he could, and even then he sounded good. His small hands flew over the frets with ease. He played the song over and over again in the cramped living room of Wayne’s trailer. And you stared in amazement. 

“You can be my manager when I’m famous, Pebbles.” He had said, tuning his strings a little bit more. 

You were sitting on the floor by his feet now, criss cross applesauce, writing a paper for your sixth grade History report. 

Craning your neck up to look at him, you scowl, “what does that even mean?” 

“I dunno really,” he admitted, sweeping his shoulder length hair from his eyes, and giving you a grin, “but it’s important enough that you’ll be rich too, and we can get out of here.” 

He thought about that for a bit, his dad had just left again, his mom had only called once in the last year, promising she’d come back for him but never did, the only people he could count on was you and his uncle, sometimes Billy. “Maybe Wayne can come too.”

It felt real then, like getting out of Hawkins would only take a single tank of gas and the money problems wouldn’t be an issue, and now you wish it was that easy. 

Another tear slips down your fac, and this time you don’t wipe it away. 

“That bad?” Jonathan says loudly behind your left, wading through the crowd of people, brushing his bangs from his sweaty forehead, he’s followed by Steve and Nancy, holding hands and sharing a blue cloud puff of cotton candy. 

“The opposite actually,” you answer, eyes gleaming in a  sad way, your fingers hesitant against your mouth to stop your lips from quivering. 

The five of you stand with eyes glued to the small rickety stage, in awe of how minor league you were compared to the rockstar vibes that illuminated him. 

The crowd cheers when the song ends. And Jonathan clicks his camera behind you, taking shots of Corroded Coffin on stage. 

“He’s a natural,” Nancy says, thumb in her mouth to suck the sugary gloss of melted sugar off, and Steve nods standing behind her resting his chin in her hair. 

The stage lights look spooky under Eddie’s chin and the second he winks at you—it happens again. The lights flicker bright red for a mere second, and then blitz back to normal. 

A screech.

And not from Eddie’s guitar or the wonky microphone. It was a loud, horrific scream. Sending pin pricks down your spine as it shattered through the night. The crowd went silent, looking around but wherever the screech came from went unnoticed. Hiding amongst the dense foggy treeline, waiting. 

Robin is the only one not paying any kind to what was going on, moving her hips to the low strum of the song still playing in her head 

You look up at Eddie with a confused look upon your face, waiting for him to offer the same expression, or a shrug, a look of what the fuck? But his eyes were trained forward like lasers— straight through the trees in the distance. As if he had some sort of ability to see something no one else could. A look you’ve never seen before that clouded his eyes, over taking his mind before he shook his head free. 

His eyes meet yours again and before the second screech ends he’s jumping from the stage and grabbing your hand, his eyes were frighteningly dark and his voice caught in his throat and rubbed his vocal cords like a scratchy violin, “we need to go, NOW!” 

The crowd filtered out, people ran in every direction in an attempt to avoid whatever was making that horrific noise, but you couldn’t see anything but the blur of families and the residents of Hawkins, Indiana running past you. 

It happened fast, quicker than you could comprehend. He was yelling for you to run, to follow him. The same hands that just played the prettiest of songs were now wrapped around your wrist and dragging you behind him. The same ache in your shoulder you felt that day almost ten years ago when he ran with you to show you his learned talent returned and you would have smiled if you weren’t absolutely terrified. You could barely register not that your own feet were moving willingly. 

It was like you were in a movie, and the VCR was on rewind. What the hell happened? 

Steve was running in front of you, hollering for Nancy to keep up. Her tear stained cheeks were dirty and her lips were blue from the cotton candy. 

Eddie’s jaw was set in a grit so tight his teeth were creaking under the pressure. You turned once to look behind you, and you wished you hadn’t. 

It was a beast, a monster shaped like a malnourished man. Long spindly arms and legs, translucent leathery skin, it’s mouth replicated a flower, and glittered with hundreds of razor sharp teeth. 

Its head was currently held high as it bellered loudly into the night, the blood from Chrissy Cunningham’s torso running down the flaps of its mouth, its taloned foot crushing her skull beneath it. 

Carnival goers were running in every which direction, and Eddie was screaming at Steve to get to his van. Blood was sprayed around the ground like a sprinkler system had gone off, arms and limbs were tossed in the air as if they were nothing. 

But the most terrifying thing of all was seeing Mr. Creel on stage, arms wide open, laughing maniacally. 

—

He fumbled with the walkie from his backpack, the arena caught on the canvas lining, and when it finally breaks free, loose papers, a broken pencil and a special little scribble of two stick figures came flying out with it. 

Frantic, he hits the button and begins his desperate attempt to get help. 

“Dustin! Code Red! We have a code red! Do you copy? Over!” 

Son-of-a-bitch!

 “Mike! Will! Code red! What is your location? Over!” 

Lucas had grabbed Max and ran as fast as he could into the top level of the fun house the second after he watched the demogorgan filet Mr. Clarke like a kabob on a grill. 

It was back. But how? 

He watched with his own eyes when El had closed the gates last time, hell he helped destroy that thing with bottle rockets and black cats. How was it back? 

His back was pressed to the back of a distorted mirror, hip to hip with Max. 

Max finally speaks, her normal glossy eyes were now clouded over in a milky trance, the same one that sprung the air from Lucas’ lungs whenever he saw it. But he knew her second sight was a sick gift from that night. 

“Lucas…” her voice breaks, trembling in the delivery,  “there’s more coming. He’s coming.” 

—

“What the hell was that?!” Steve yelled as soon as Eddie’s van was close, he threw open the sliding door and shoved Nancy into the back seat, looking behind him for the monster. You slammed the front door shut and rolled the crank for the window, your arm pumping fast as the glass slid slowly into the doorframe. 

“Demogorgan.” Eddie said matter of fact like as he finagled the keys into the ignition turning his wrist to start the van.

“A what?!” The three of you said in unison, if this weren’t a life or death situation, you would have said jinx. 

The engine sputtered and shook as Eddie purred into the steering wheel with a frustrated yell as he slammed his fist onto the dash.

“A dem—fuck, look I’ll tell you everything— but first we need to get the hell out here!” 

One more slam into the hood and Eddie’s heavy boot on the gas pedal— the van let out an exhausted sigh as it came to life. 

You looked at the dilapidated remnants of the carnival, an orangey red glow from the center of the stage slivered open and cast an ominous light behind Creel. 

Enormous slime covered black vines slithered and slinked as they broke from the underground, wrapping around the legs of unlucky onlookers and dragging them into the crimson abyss, drug straight to hell. 

The lights around the grandstand all blurred that same angry hue of red you swore you had seen last night out your window. 

Fingers wrap around your hand and from the rings you know it’s Eddie’s, he squeezes your hand and gives you a sad look, like a kicked dog.

The carnival looked like a scene that could only be described in a scary movie, but no matter how many times you blinked your eyes, it wouldn’t go away, this was real. 

“Yo! Wait!”

The voice was familiar, California cool with a slight Midwest accent coming through from years of living in Hawkins.

You looked at Eddie, his bangs were stuck to his forehead with sweat. And his tongue was poking out in concentration. 

From behind a car and hobbling on a broken leg was a long haired man, eyes wide and fear stricken as he waved his hands in the air. 

Eddie cranked the lever into reverse, and squealed his tires when he threw the van into drive, ready to get you and everyone else away from this literal bell on earth.

“Whoa whoa wait! It’s Argyle!” 

Nancy slid the van door open from the inside, screaming his name and trying to encourage him to run faster.

His clothes were ripped and haggard looking, his right arm was bleeding profusely, long claw marks that shredded his skin into limp ribbons, leaving the muscle and tissue exposed in a mixture of scarlet red and deep bronzed flesh. 

He was only yards away when he sighed with relief, “Man am I glad to see you guys, I lost Jonath—”

Argyle's sentence falls short as a pair of black scaly feet  hook into the meat of his shoulders and yank him upwards, into the dark sky. 

It was a large leathery bird-like creature, great expanse of wings with jagged skin and a razor sharp beak, gaping wide to show rows and rows of three inch teeth. 

Its black eyes swam in a sea of red, it stood on two muscled hind legs that had several blister-like sacs on them, oozing black liquid that reeked of decay. The body was boney, stretched tight with a scaly black leather skin riddled with bright red veins etched into it like tattoos. 

You watched in terror as another bird creature joined the first, swooping to collect Argyle’s feet in its mouth. Fighting for dominance. 

They had him at either end, swaying back in forth in jerky motions screeching loud and snapping their beaks in grit, struggling to stay airborne while fighting for their prey. 

Flying in different directions, their talons sunk deeper into Argyle's body, the guttural scream from him could shatter the noise barrier, and you swallow dryly as bile creeps up your throat. 

The four of you watch in horror as his torso disconnects in squelching threads of skin guts and bone. His body shreds in half with a wet snapping crunch, blood falling like rain onto the ground. 

Nancy’s screams filled the van as Steve slammed the metal door shut, jamming a thumb into the lock. And you don’t realize your screaming until Eddie’s hand squeezes yours tighter, and the vans tires squeal into the night. Away from the carnage. 

-

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[tomorrowsgardennc]

market update // october 5th

it do be pumpkin season 🎃 got this kratos variety pumpkin (perfect name) from a farmer friend and i sketched out a scary design on it during the slow parts of the day. hope to carve it later this week. future me might regret it.

today was actually a pretty busy day! sooooooooo many return customers from spring all realized i was back from summer break and in a new spot, and shared so many stories about their garden and what grew and what didn't.

one customer said he didn't expect a 100% germination rate on his okra, and he and one other customer "complained" that the okra from seed grew TOO fast!! one day would be tiny, and the next day is too big to harvest. i don't eat okra, nor harvest for produce because i know it has to be picked at *just the right time* and i have no idea when that is 🫣 so i just grow okra for seed only. i asked customers what variety of okra should i grow for seed next year. one said an okra that grows slower or smaller, another said purple okra. which i assume is the burgandy okra since it's a deep red, it can be kinda purple.

had people ask for garlic and onion, and i've been sold out for a couple weeks. might need to get more bulbs so i can grow even more and have even more more of those next year.

also had 2 people ask for parsley seeds. sadly all my parsley got eaten by swallowtail caterpillars in the spring, so never went to seed.

was telling a lot of people about overwintering pepper plants. we are getting lows in the 40s late this coming week, so pepper plants need to be dug up and brought inside. they are technically perennials if kept warm enough. i got a couple more i need to dig up this week myself.

another customer bought an eggplant transplant from me in the spring and she said it's the biggest eggplant plant she ever grew and still going strong. i only sold patio baby eggplants in the spring, and they're a dwarf variety so that's kinda funny.

QUESTION OF THE DAY: seed storage! lots of people were buying seeds that you can't start until spring, so they were asking how to make them last. short answer: cool, dark, dry place. ez pz. long answer: imma do a post soon of all the good options and why some options are bad.

i've also known for being the lady who sells these variety 6 packs. they're super popular and always sell out quick. i take 3 varieties, 2 each, and put them in a 6-cell like this. sometimes i have a theme, like in the spring i had a taco tuesday 6-pack (2 tomatoes, 2 hot peppers, 2 beans) or a pizza 6-pack (2 tomatoes, 2 basil, 2 sweet peppers). nobody else at the market does this, and customers love it because then they don't have to make a decision 😅 just an idea for others who are looking to sell transplants in the spring.

i sold out of my ground cherry produce within 30 minutes. last day i was offering them. guess i'm growing more next year 🫠 sold out of all but 3 of my kale plants by end of market. sold a good chunk of seeds too. hope my inventory lasts 🫠

not a lot of photos because of all the chit chats with customers, so enjoy this little fella until next week.

waved at 12 kids today, got 10 waves back in return. not bad, not bad.

[wisteriaiswriting]

gekko, phoenix, sage and astra with gender neutral reader who loves gardening (headcanons?)

𝕊/𝕆 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕘𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕟

Gekko, Phoenix, Sage and Astra headcanons + blurbs with reader who loves to garden.

Words: 1235

This guy cannot care for anything that isn't edible. They are the only thing he can care for.

When you're in the garden or a store he will follow you around trying to learn. Although he will forget everything as soon as you leave.

From here on out any present you get is something plant related. Whether it's some seed packets or a fake flower in a hand painted pot.

Though if you grow any type of vegetables he will suddenly become the teacher. (His mother grew her own vegetables as he grew up and taught him.)

“Oh Pájaro cantor~”

Gekko’s voice echoed in the hallways, he left earlier within the day and was just now returning. Alongside his voice and footsteps, there was also the movement of a plastic bag.

Turning around to see him stepping into the garden, following the steps towards you. Showing you were correct, he was carrying an opaque plastic bag.

"Love, I got these for you!"

The bag was filled with items you were familiar with, feeling a pot and hearing seeds in it. Opening it revealed the pot was filled with a mix of seed packets, from violas and roses to broccoli and leeks.

Pulling out the pot showed something new, the outside was painted. Covered in small doodles in all different colours, a yellow wingman, a blue dizzy, green mosh and a pink thrash. They all surrounded one bigger drawing.

It was you and Gekko holding hands. There were small hearts drawn around the both, clear they were drawn by your buddies. All were wobbly and uneven but clearly drawn with love.

"Aww, thanks Mateo~"

He has somehow become the worst agent to care for plants. (Please don't leave him in charge of any types.)

In his life he has somehow killed a succulent. (No one is sure how he did it??)

When he was still in school he probably learnt about some types but has now forgotten everything.

Will constantly watch you care for your plants but don't allow him near it please. (Weirdly enough he always knows when you're about to care for them.)

“Aw, c’mon love!”

Phoenix was whining from inside, the glass door was open but the other was shut and locked. You’ve learned quickly to not let him near the garden, especially alone. Your poor garden still hasn’t recovered from the accident.

“Not until you can be trusted!”

“I can be, just let me show you.”

You didn’t answer this time, continuing to replant your garden. A small patch was completely burnt so it was filled with seeds and sprouts, which you just finished planting.

“Look, you’re done planting right?”

He paused as if for you to respond, which only worried you.

“This means a new start! I can show you I’ve matured by caring for the babies.”

You could only look at him in worry and concern.

“I don’t think so, I'm not having a repeat.”

“My dear halcyon~ Let me show you!“

And you did, walking over to the door and unlocking it. You would clearly regret this.

During her first few years in the protocol she started the (still small) agent garden so she knows how to care for a variety of plants.

While she has grown vegetables she much prefers flowers, finds them easier.

When you need or want help she is always willing.

And if you have more than enough plants she will find others to build a greenhouse for them.

Sage had quickly banned you from the garden, even managing to drag others to stop you as well. And speaking of the others, you've realised how suspiciously busy they've been. But not with any missions or paperwork.

This continued for a few weeks, 3 to be exact. During that time Sage was one of the busiest with everything, missions, paperwork, hobbies and now this secret... thing? But that quickly came to an end.

"Angel?"

Sage had walked around the base trying to find you, ending up in the kitchen where you were making a drink. Apparently so distracted since you didn't react to the nickname.

Slowly and silently walking up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist. Her laughing started as you jumped, spinning around to see her.

"Wei!"

She stepped back as she whipped eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I've got another surprise for you~"

She reached and grabbed for your hand, pulling you along. A quick trip through the halls of the protocol, ending up with you both in her quarters.

The quarters consisted of her room, the medical room and an outdoor garden. Which 2 of the 3 were always open to others whether or not she was around.

The blinds were shut but clearly the door wasn't, the wind was making the bottoms move around.

"Now, close your eyes."

Doing as you're told resulted in hands covering your, now closed eyes. Using them to guide you where she wanted you. Through the door outside, walking the whole length of the stone path. Stepping off onto a soft patch of dirt.

Her hands pulled off and both reached for one of your own.

"Open~"

And you're glad you did, the sight was amazing. A decently sized greenhouse had been placed and built in the back of the garden. During this you missed the last few agents hanging around retreat inside.

Spinning around to tackle Sage into a hug.

"All for me?"

"Yes~"

Without any more words you dove for her lips, she responded quickly. And once oxygen came necessary you parted, both panting.

"Let's show your 'babies' their new home."

Akoma mu toffee - my/sweetheart (Closest translation so I apologize if this is incorrect.)

As she was growing up she had her own but small garden full of flowers. Having the chance to enlarge it and explore more plants during her time at the protocol.

When she found out you also gardened she offered to share, becoming ecstatic when you accepted. (Told everyone for the next week.)

If you grew or will grow any types of edible plants, new or old she will cook you both something with them. (If she's feeling nice the other agents can have some.)

Efia had led you towards your shared garden, shared meaning just for you two. Recently her side has been empty, the majority of her old plants were given to you. Meaning your side is fuller than ever since joining the protocol.

And she hasn’t stopped with her love of plants so something is up, you’re just not sure of what… yet. Recently she has been bringing in a lot more items, and last time you checked there were bags and boxes stacked in her room.

Now, weeks later she was finally putting them to use. But before entering she held her hands over your eyes, slowly leading you so you don’t trip. Stepping into, what you assume is the garden's entrance as she has you stop waking.

“Akwaaba!”

Your temporarily blinded has her hands are removed, the newly renovated garden is all you can see. Flower beds were full of a mix of flowers and vegetables, practically overflowing.

One was a mix of beautiful pink impala flowers (she also grew some inside on window shelves.) and light purple african daisies. Overhead the whole garden grew bougainvilleas, ranging from a hot pink to warm red giving the place a lot of shade.

In another bed was a range of chillies, she did like to add them to the majority of her meals. A few sprouts of tomatoes, broccoli, leaks and others. The other beds were full of your plants, she kept them all just moved them around.

There was even a sign at the front. It was clear she didn’t do the carving, being Skye’s handiwork. Labeled ‘Y/N and Astra’s Garden’ with small and harsh hearts surrounding, those were her work.

Her hand wrapped around your waist to pull you into her, head leaning on your shoulder.

“What’cha think Akoma mu toffee?”

“I love it, thank you Efia.”

[euphoricfilter]

hii!! i saw that you take requests? i was wondering if i could get a taehyung fluff where they celebrate their birthday! my birthday is Dec 31 and since his is Dec 30th i wanted something along the lines of like celebrating together alone bc my bdays have always been shitty and this year was the same so i want all the fluff you can give me please <3 if your requests r closed then that’s totally fine!!! i also wanted to say ur an amazing writer and i luv ur content so much!!

𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦:

pairing: kim taehyung x f! reader

genre: fluff || non-idol au || best friends to lovers au

summary: it was no secret that you had never been fond of your birthday, and taehyung hated that you always seemed to celebrate alone— your birthdays won’t be the only celebration each year now that taehyung’s flower has finally bloomed.

word count: 3.6k

tags/ warnings: fluff, nothing crazy, mild birthday slander, reader is an over-thinker, he calls her baby way too many times, tearful confessions

notes: I FOOKIN FINISHED ON MY BIRTHDAY LETS GO! this is my gift to all of you, my lovely readers!!

✿ ✿ ✿

Taehyung’s feeling for you were akin to a flower.

The day the two of you met, planting the seed of his budding feelings. Where you acted as the sunlight he needed to grow; wherever you were, he would follow—growing in whichever direction you were. The first signs of his seedling pushing past the surface of the soil had been months into your friendship.

Minutes after midnight and you’d been stood at his front door, cheeks washed red from the bitter winter air, almost hunched over as you catch your breath; clearly having ran, even as the clock struck 12 and a new day began. You hadn’t wavered from your mission, silently hoping that Taehyung was still awake, because even if it technically wasn’t his birthday anymore, you refused to let the magic fizzle out just yet.

“These are for you” you’d thrusted the bouquet into his chest, pretty little white narcissuses and prickly holly wrapped up in brown paper, tied ever so delicately with a white satin ribbon, where the little red berries rivalled the colour of your cheeks. Perhaps just as round, temping enough that Taehyung had to stop himself from asking to sink his teeth into your supple looking flesh.

“I looked online and it’s your birth flower” you’d told him, standing up a little taller, a little more confident when you see his blooming smile.

“You did this for me?” he asks, bearing the brunt the frigid December cold as he pulls his door open wider, fingers gentle as they close around your wrist, tugging you into the warmth of his apartment.

You nod, hands cupping around your cheeks to try and warm your face up a little. Radiator in the hall sending waves of mellowed heat your way until you could feel the tips of your toes and fingers, nose no longer icy.

Taehyung couldn’t help but smile, and you couldn’t help but think he had the prettiest smile you’d ever seen.

Always so radiant, always so expressive, always so Taehyung, that you couldn’t help but think your efforts were worth it when he looked down at you like that. The miniscule pain of scouring the city for a flower shop willing to help you late into the night, and winds that had almost knocked you over, it didn’t matter because Taehyung was smiling at you like that. Pretty-pretty Taehyung and his pretty-pretty smile.

“Thank you” he’d laughed, “Thank you so much. How about some hot chocolate to warm you up?” he’d offered, and you’d agreed, how could you not?

The stem of Taehyung’s flower had grown fast, with every free weekend the two of you spent together, the little spark of developing love had burst into rapid flames.

Taehyung didn’t mind, revelled in the fact he felt something so raw about another person, never having felt anything like this before. He’d been unsure, fumbling over himself until he found his footing, worked out what you liked and what you didn’t. A little clumsy with his growing adoration until he sat back and realised the feelings he had for you were very real. A shadow in his mind weighing the consequences of acting on his emotions, because why would he fuck this up if he already had you? Maybe not in the exact way he wanted, but it was better than not having you in his life at all.

He wasn’t above dating, had milled around in high school, experimenting with whoever he pleased but nothing would ever be able to compare to what he had for you. An inexplainable warmth that blossomed throughout his body, where delicate vines weaved around his heart and the most beautiful flowers had started to bloom. Where the more Tae learnt about you, the faster he was falling.

He’d never been a fan of the term ‘falling in love’ something a little too melodramatic for his tastes, the very thought of falling for another person less romantic than it had been painted out to be. Because if his life were to be art, then he never wanted it to be the soppy kind, where you know the end is never good and the characters of the play seemed to always live in impending doom. Where only one will come out on top and get what they want while the rest suffer.  

He’d learnt falling didn’t have to be bad, falling—where you’re cushioned by clouds crafted with passion to break the fall. Where kisses taste sweeter and bare skin on skin felt electrifying. Where your mind bubbles over with thoughts of that person until you can’t help the smile that threatens to tug at your lips, and you want to make sure they’re stood by your side. Because as long as you were near, then that’s all he needed.

Taehyung’s favourite type of falling is when you work up the courage to look into his eyes. Always shying away from eye-contact, always a little fidgety when you notice him looking at you for longer than deemed proper for just a friend. He liked your eyes because you’d always been expressive, ever so easy to read, and ever so pretty.

Your outer beauty had only ever been a bonus to Taehyung, and if he had to compare your beauty to any of his favourite things, then surely, he would compare you to a freshly bloomed flower.

✿ ✿ ✿

It was no secret to Taehyung that you hated your birthday.

You’d always seemed to withdraw yourself from everyone the week before the big day, and he’d asked once, why you held so much disdain towards it, and you’d simply shrugged. Telling him you never understood the hype and never felt the need to make it a big event out of it. You never minded celebrating your friends’ birthdays, always going to family parties with well-thought-out gifts and a little skip in your step, but never held the same when it came to you.

“What are you doing here?” you open the door wider when you see its only him, fingers fiddling with handle out of nervous habit— and he watches as you rock back and forth on your heels. Clearly not expecting his arrival, and he would have called, if he didn’t already know you were home.

It’s a little out of character for him to show up to your apartment unannounced, knowing you preferred when he told you at least a few hours in advance that he was coming over, or he wanted to take you out. And as much as you hated the niggling habit of overthinking, it had never put him off, simply moulding his life around your needs as if they were his own.

Because as long as you were happy, so was Taehyung. Another strange side effect of being in love with someone he supposes.

“Can you come with me?” his hands fall out the pockets of his coat, corners of his lips tugging up into a soft smile.

You blink up at him, eyebrows furrowing, “Like— right now?”

“Yeah” he nods, feeble guilt itching under his skin. Like an invisible rash that he couldn’t get rid of, irritable in a way he wants to pull his hair out.

His palm lays flat against your door, pushing it open wider to let himself in. You don’t seem all that worried as you close the door behind him as he slips his shoes off, coat slung over the arm of your couch before he’s making himself comfortable, running a hand through his windswept hair.

He turns to you, “Go get ready, I’ll wait here”

“Where are we going?” you call over your shoulder as you wander into your bedroom, uncaring as you leave the door open.

“My place” he bends forward, trying to catch sight of you as you scuttle around your room. Always fascinated by the way you move, often painfully unaware of your surroundings. Though he doesn’t mind all that much, tips of his fingers tingling each time his hands fall over your shoulders or holding you by the waist has he help guide you, your hand held in his, so you won’t get lost in a crowd, or simply just for the sake of holding you. Your skin like a magnet, drawing him closer whenever he was near, your very existence fascinating to him that he can never seem to get enough.

“Huh?” you pause in the doorway, head tilting, and Taehyung can’t help the smile that stretches onto his face, fondness blossoming around his heart, “Why didn’t you just call me over then?”

“I have a surprise for you” he waves you off, watching as you nod, hesitant, but a small part of his heart swells at the fact you trust him enough to play into his plan even if he can see you itching to ask a million other questions. Questions he would be more than happy to answer, though he doesn’t push. Simply lets you stew in your own thoughts, trusting that you’ll kept your faith in him, stepping forward if you truly needed anything.

“But why?” you throw another sweater over your shoulder, “What should I wear?”

Taehyung pushes himself up off the couch, wandering towards your bedroom—more than equipped in knowing your home, often acting like it was his own.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with, baby”

You flinch, not having expected him to be there when you had turned around, “What are we doing?”

“I told you it’s a surprise” he croons, picking up the clothes strewn across the floor.

He folds them into neat piles at the end of your bed— ready for you to put away later as you continue your search for something to wear. Knowing that if he weren’t to do it, they would be left blanketing your floor until you worked up the motivation to finally clean up. At least this way he’d gotten your least favourite part out of the way.

“But what if I’m overdressed, worse, what if I’m underdressed?” you turn back to look at him, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt as Taehyung simply stares; never one to back away from prolonged eye-contact.

“Baby, I told you to wear whatever you’re comfortable with. We’re only going to my place, nowhere else if you don’t want to” he soothes, beckoning you over with a hand. And you follow, always so good for him.

You stand between his legs, looking down at Taehyung where he sits on the edge of your bed, “No matter what you wear, you’re pretty, yeah?”

Taking your hands into his own, fingers laced, Taehyung watches as your mouth opens at the gentle contact, closing abruptly when you can’t seem to find the right words to say. Mind whirring behind your eyes, and he worries he’d pushed you too far.

Hesitantly you nod, “Okay” you whisper, swallowing thickly as his thumb runs over the back of your hand.

“Well done” he squeezes your fingers before he’s nudging you back towards your closet.

He watches as you peek over your shoulder, not very subtle as you try and match what he’s wearing.

“How about we match today?” he suggests, watching the lingering anxiety leave your body as your shoulders deflate, eyes lighting up.

“Really?” you ask, grey sweatpants already held tightly in your hands and Taehyung smiles.

“Of course, baby”

✿ ✿ ✿

“Are your eyes still closed?” Taehyung asks, as he bends down, helping you slip your shoes off.

You hum, hands falling onto his shoulders to keep balance. And he suddenly becomes hyper aware of how close the two of you are, hands gentle as he holds onto your ankle, your warm skin under his fingertips electric as his heartrate picks up.

Your hands slide down his arms when he stands at full height, fingers loosely gripping onto his wrists as he pulls you further into his apartment; careful to tug you around the toys his dog had left strewn across the floor of the living room.

Your feet sink into Taehyung’s plush carpet, pitter patter of Yeontan running into the room at the sound of your giggles, warming Taehyung’s heart. Simple domesticity of the situation maybe something Taehyung had been craving; because when he had you like this, no semi high-end dining, no unobtainable expectations from the eyes of others. Simply you and him, where the world beyond his apartment meant nothing, because it didn’t matter where he was as long as he was with you.

“Here we go” Taehyung pulls his wrists from your hands, picking Tannie up, “Open your eyes, baby”

Taehyung watches as your eyes flutter open. You blink down at his coffee table, head tilting in confusion before you’re turning to him.

“What’s all this?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed.

It hadn’t been much, nothing like he would have truly planned if he didn’t know you had what could only be described as a weird hatred towards your birthday. He’d made sure to get your favourite cake, balloons taped to the walls, all those of your favourite colour—handpicked out of each pack. You eye the platter of sandwiches, and he has to hold onto Yeontan a little tighter as the dog spots whatever other of your favourite snacks he’s picked up that morning. All laid out in little bowls, where confetti had been scattered over the table like the petals of a rose.

“It’s your birthday” he urges, smile still tugging at his lips.

You nod, “I know that but, why—” you gesture to the cake, to the small giftbox, utterly overwhelmed by what you see, and Taehyung wonders briefly if he’d rocked your brain into overdrive.

“I thought we could celebrate together, I know you don’t really like your birthday, but I thought for once I’d do something for you, like you’ve done for me”

“You did all this, for me?”

And although this isn’t his best work, nice restaurant in the middle of the city ready to be called for a late reservation if you hadn’t liked what he’d prepared for you. Wallet tucked away in the pocket of his coat just in case he took you for a walk around the park where he would buy you all the treats your heart desired until your bellies were full, sleepy on the way home; and maybe he would offer to carry you.

“Of course” he nods, letting Yeontan hop onto the couch before he’s tugging you to sit at the coffee table. Knees pressed against one another as you sit adjacent to Taehyung.  

You peek into the cake box, “Shut up, you didn’t buy one of those really pretty lunchbox cakes” your look up at Taehyung, eyes wide and he only grins. You stare at it in awe, purple iced flowers climbing the sides of the cake, blooming in shades of lavender and violet in gradient. Where fondant leaves weaved through bunches of flowers like wild vines.

“This is for you” he pushes the wrapped box across the table towards you. Brown paper tied off with a pretty white ribbon—little white daisy pin stuck in the centre of the bow.

He watches as you shake it. Fingers delicate as you pull the ribbon apart, dropped in a small pile beside the box of your cake, and he only expects you plan to save it for later. Scraps of long forgotten art supplies hidden in the depths of your closet for when you really needed it. Always a little bit of a hoarder, though you like to blame it on sentiment.  

The tips of your fingers skim over the velvety box, a deep red with little golden stars embroidered into the fabric, “What is it?”

“Open it” his back falls against the couch, fingers thrumming across his thigh, anxious of your reaction.

You lift the lid of the box, bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

“It’s so pretty” you murmur, head lifting to meet Taehyung’s gaze.

You watch him lift his hand; matching ring sat snug on his finger. Your gaze flickers down towards the ring in the box, “They’re matching?”

“Yeah”

The corners of your lips tug up into a smile, “You’re cute” you giggle, gentle as you pull the ring out of the box, sliding it onto your finger, the same one Taehyung had his on.

“You think so?” he leans forwards, eyebrows raising in question, and he watches as you swallow thickly, “Come on, don’t be shy now” his smile is lazy, a little cocky and you can’t seem to help the heat that tickles your cheeks red.

He watches you debate whether to stay silent or not, “Yes” you breathe, tongue slipping past your lips to wet them.

“Yes what?” he urges, revelling in the way you fidget in your spot—fingers itching to pull you closer into him, moulding the two of you into one being until he doesn’t know where you end, and he starts.

“I think you’re cute”

“I think you’re cute too” he smiles, deft fingers tucking his hair behind his ear.

“You what?” you splutter, “That’s not funny, Tae”

“It wasn’t meant to be” you watch as he sits up straight, careful as he takes your hands into his own, “Why would you think I’d joke about that?”

His eyebrows crease as you let out a long sigh, “Because well, you’re—you’re you and I’m just me”

“There’s nothing wrong with you” he shakes his head.

“I’m not perfect like you, Tae” you try to pull your hands from his, no real force behind the gesture, fingers barely slipping from his grasp.

“I’m not perfect” he laughs, leaning forwards like he wanted to tell you a secret, “You are though”

You blink, “I’m not” he watches as tears glaze over your eyes.

“Come on, baby, why’re you crying” he coos, gentle as he pushes your hair out of your face.

“Because I really like you, and I feel stupid” you admit, one hand still held in Taehyung’s as the other comes to wipe your face of the tears that cascade down your cheeks.

“I really like you too” Taehyung stands, manoeuvring his way around the table, falling to his knees beside you.

“No—not that kind of like. I like like you” you cover your face with your hands.

“Hey” he calls, “listen to me”

You snivel, daring peek out from behind your hands, a new wave of fresh tears glazing your cheeks shiny as he smiles, always so soft, always so reassuring.

“I like like you too, my baby” he laughs, barely there, but the puff of breath deflates his chest, “Haven’t I made it obvious enough?”

You shake your head, “Now I feel really stupid” you cry.

“No no no” he shakes his head, cupping your cheeks, “I clearly didn’t realise either”

You hiccup, “I’m sorry”

“What for?” his eyes flit between your own.

You frown, “Crying”

“Don’t apologize for that” his eyebrows crease, fond smile pulling at the corners of his lips, “Can I kiss you?”

He watches as your eyes widen a fraction, “Yes”

His thumb brushes away a lone tear when you close your eyes, watching as a sliver of peace washes over your face. And he understands, of course he does. All the built-up tension, nights of wondering if your feelings were to ever be reciprocated, if this budding love was one sided, if it could be more than friendship—all that doubt had evaporated. Exasperated whispers of how this would never work out, suddenly silent, mind and heart free. Pure unadulterated love soaring the skies like a dove let out of a cage with no plan of ever returning, the feeling of freedom, the freedom to love you, too addicting.  

Taehyung feels you smile into the kiss as his lips press against your own. Ever so soft, neither of you rushing.

Your arms slink around his shoulders, pulling his body closer to you as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. Your lips part, gentle gasp dripping off your tongue, tacky and sweet as his hands skim down your body, pulling you in between his legs.

Albeit reluctant, Taehyung pulls away, chest heaving for air as his heart hammers against his ribcage. Your fingers skim over your bottom lip.

“One more” you whisper, hands falling from Taehyung’s shoulders to cup his cheeks like he had your own.

“Okay” he nods, hands still firmly holding onto your hips as you press your chests together, head tilting. Your thumb brushes over his jaw when your lips meet, both a little surer, a little more confident in yourselves, Taehyung teasing as his tongue prods the seam of your lips.

You grant him access, embarrassed whine following a moan as his tongue slips into your mouth—any qualms about you not sharing his feelings bubbling into a fizzy confidence.

“Does this mean you’ll say yes to being my girlfriend?” he smiles down at you, lips a little kiss swollen and shiny.

“If that’s okay with you” you nod, eyes falling onto the ring on his finger, your own glinting in the light of the setting sun that spills through the window.

Taehyung’s feelings for you were akin to a flower.

A flower that had been in the budding stage for years, love disguised as vibrance, hidden away from your eyes as to not scare you away, attracting you like a bee only hoping you’d be happy with that he had to offer. A flower that was now in bloom, because really what it was missing was you. Just wholly you who adores Taehyung as much as he does you. Two flowers blooming in the same flower field where your stems intertwine, growth from here on out together rather than alone. Because even if your petals were the same as the rest of the flowers that grew around you, what you had was special; something none of the other flowers had—each other.  

“Guess this means we have a reason to celebrate your birthday every year” he leans forward, soft kiss pressed to your forehead.

🌱 feedback is always appreciated <3 and thank you for reading!

permanent tag list: @m1sss1mp @supernoonanyc

[balkanradfem]

So, since the gardening season was unsuccessful, and really sad, I've been dreaming of starting new seeds. I've decided, this time, I'm going to plant so many tomatoes that nothing will be able to prevent the tomato harvest. It's gonna be all tomato garden, 40+ tomato plants, I'll build shelters for them in case of hail, weave nets, I'm ready, let's do this.

However, it's October, and there's precious little I can do in October to start plants; if I germinate anything right now, there won't be enough sun for it to grow, and it will pout and die </3. It happens every year when I stubbornly plant basil and it checks out the daylight levels and decides to nope out of that situation.

So, instead, what I'm doing, is still learning about mushrooms! I'm going to the forest regularly and collecting anything that could possibly be edible, and trying it out. I've been lucky to find so many edible boletes, I've been drying them in the summer and I have a great dried mushroom stash, which will prove very valuable during the winter.

Now there's a mushroom that grows when nothing else is really available, the latin name is 'Neoboletus luridiformis' and it looks like this:

Cool, right? A red bolete mushroom. She's called Scarletina Bolete. Looks poisonous. However, sources claim that this mushroom is edible, granted it's cooked first. I've been sheepish to try it because it's so red, and there are red boletes that are 100% poisonous, so this is just a health risk. You can check if the mushroom is this one because it stains blue and black when you cut it, and mine do. This is how it looks like cut:

I mean that does look extremely unappetizing but it says right there on wikipedia that it's edible:

hmm so anyway, I've finally decided to stop being a coward, and I cooked the mushroom and had some yesterday! It's still not been a full 24 hours, but I'm faring well for now. If this turns to be a good food source, I'll be set for the entire year because this baby grows at all times in the forest.

Another cool thing I'm trying out is acorn pancakes. I discovered some people on youtube who are making acorn flour and then baking pancakes out of it, and I've been curious about acorns before, but now I'm set with instructions and knowledge on how to process it. Acorns were used as a source of flour before wheat was in use, and it was pretty great, because they didn't need to cut down forests, or plow the fields, or turn bunch of soil to dust; people can just collect acorns because oak trees are everywhere here. The only issue is that the acorns are filled with tannins, which is a chemical that produces a very bitter taste, which makes them not very tasty. However, people have also figured out how to ''wash the tannins out', and there's a process of boiling and throwing water away, or leaving them buried next to a riverbank for a year, in order to get them to taste good.

I haven't yet decided what route I'm going to take, but I collected some acorns last time I was in the forest:

I have to admit they feel very good to hold in hand. They're so nicely brown, almost chestnut in color, they're shiny, pleasant oval shape, and very heavy. It felt like I was holding something valuable, rich. Since they're a wild food, I know they have more nutrients in them than anything we developed ourselves, wild food generally has 3 times more nutrition than anything growing in a human-made garden.

I've also stumbled on a few acorns that have sprouted roots! I've collected them as well, and put them in a soil-filled container on my balcony, let's see if I can grow an oak tree. That would feel extremely cool to grow.

I'm also collecting and curing walnuts (apparently you can make a walnut butter out of them I did not know that), conkers (for the laundry detergent, I love them), nettle (drying into powder, using as a calcium supplement) and I've also found some violets growing at this time, so I collected the leaves for tea; they're medicinal for colds, flus and fevers.

I'm going to the forest again tomorrow, and hopefully I'll write another update about fun things I've found and trying out! Stay safe and don't follow my lead to eat weird things, unless you research them yourself.

[kickinganddriving]

Somebody Else

Notes: Requested by @starry-night-reid. I MISS PULI SO MUCH

paring: Christian Pulisic x reader

Song suggestion: Somebody Else- The 1975

Warnings: Swearing, super minor mentions of smutty things, sad christian

wc:1.4k

pt 2

I don't want your body

But I hate to think about you with somebody else

Our love has gone cold

You're intertwining your soul with somebody else

I'm looking through you

While you're looking through your phone

And then leaving with somebody else

No, I don't want your body

But I'm picturing your body with somebody else

It was a random Tuesday morning, the sun beaming through the windows of Christian’s apartment, at the moment he was mindlessly scrolling through instagram, in passing he saw a familiar face. He scrolls up and see’s your face, with another man kissing your cheek. The minute he could process what was going on in the photo, he felt a deep seed of jealousy plant itself in his stomach. His eyes fixate on the location tag on the post, London UK.

You and Christian broke up almost a year ago, but it had seemed that you had moved on faster than him. While you were dating, you weren’t just a piece of arm candy, you were his best friend, and with the break up Christian lost too much in one person. You dated for 2 1/2 years and it was the last time Christian felt truly happy, but he broke up with you. You got you an offer from your dream job, but it was back in the states. All he ever wanted was for you to be truly happy, which later bit him right in the ass. You worked there for around 7 months before they opened an office near London, and you chose to move back. Out of fear that he already met someone else or moved on, he was never told of your arrival.

5 months later you found yourself seeing a nice man, around the same age, who lives in your apartment complex. He has nice dark eyes, brown curly hair, and... god dammit, he’s like the Walmart Christian. He was a nice man, you could see yourself living a life with him. Would there be something missing, yes, but you could try to move past that. 

But for Christian, the past year had been absolute hell for him. He kept on getting injured, went to the world cup, but got taken out too early for his liking, and the one person he could always go to wasn’t his to go to anymore. The instagram post didn’t make it any better, not at all. While he was scrolling through your page, he saw one of the photos he took off you, it was his favorite photo. So entranced in the picture in front of him, he mindlessly liked it. Realizing what he did, he looked at the post date, 1 year ago. He fucked up.

And c'mon baby (I know)

This ain't the last time that I'll see your face

And c'mon baby (I know)

You said you'd find someone to take my place

After spending almost the entire 3 days wallowing in his room, barely responding to Mason or Ben’s texts and calls, the pair made it a point to get Christian out of the house and into a club. The guys thought clubs could fix almost any problem because it contained the holy trinity, music, alcohol, and girls. After quite literally dragging Christian out of his home, he found himself perched on a barstool, nursing a beer that was once cold, looking depressed as shit.

But guess where your now boyfriend wanted to go tonight, just guess? The same as the club that Ben and Mason had to choose. When you walked in the club you instantly recognized the face of one Mason Mount, but in trying not to draw too much attention to yourself, you just scurried off to a booth and waited for your boyfriend to come back with drinks. After a few drinks you found your way to the dance floor, trying to have a good time, but guess who else you saw, Benjamin James Chilwell. After a second of awkward eye contact, your boyfriend hobbled off to the bathroom, after he escorted you to the bar. 

After you told the order to the bartender, you heard a voice, a clear, distinct, and familiar voice. A voice that gave you the chills from miles away. 

“Your drink order still hasn’t changed” 

You turn your head to catch a glimpse of the person talking to you, Christian Fucking Mate Pulisic. He looked exhausted, not long after training exhausted, but mental torment exhausted. Your natural instinct was to give him the biggest hug and a kiss on the cheek, but you restrained.

“Christian” his name was the only thing you could say. Paralyzed with emotion, you couldn’t move, think, or barely speak. His name, something you’ve said countless numbers of times, moaning it like a prayer, sleepily whispering under your breath, saying it with the largest smile on your face, or the last time you said it to him when you kissed him for the last time as he dropped you off at the airport. 

“Yes jellybean?” You were nearly crying after he called you “jellybean”. Nobody has called you that in a year, but Christian always called you jellybean, because of your weird childhood obsession with them.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.” You said trying to find a way to try to make the entire situation better.

“To find out that you came back to London, or that you are dating someone else?” Christian says with an ounce of disbelief in his tone.

“Both” You nervously whimper, trying not to say something that could ruin the entire night even more.

“Who is he anyway? He looks looks me, but from fucking Walmart.” You missed his sense of blatant honesty and sarcasm when he had an ounce of alcohol in his system.

“You mean Sam? You innocently exclaim.

“Fucking Sam” He exasperatedly says after taking a swig oof his lukewarm beer.

“We should really talk sometime soon Chris”

Get someone you love

Get someone you need?

Fuck that, get money

I can't give you my soul

'Cause we're never alone

It had been a week since that night at the bar, and he could think about you. He had finally had enough, so after using a few favors he figured out where you lived. Being the stupid, lovesick, idiot he was, he didn’t think of taking an Uber, or driving himself to your apartment, no, he had to run in the rain without a jacket halfway across London.

It was a regular Friday evening, Sam was coming over with pizza in an hour, and you were peacefully on the couch watching Friends and a comfy set of lingerie and a short and pink silk night dress. You heard the doorbell ring, but you were not expecting anyone yet, so you went and opened the door. Behind the door revealed a drenched Christian.

“Christian what are you doing here?” You say with a slight chuckle.

“I love you, I love you so much” Christian holds and caresses your jawline with his cold hands as he pronounces his affection for you.

“Christian I-” He suddenly kissed you, it was not your first kiss, but it made it feel like it was your first kiss. The way you got butterflies in your stomach, something you haven’t felt in a while. Kissing him back, everything felt perfect, like the world was at peace and everything was perfect.

“Before you even mention Sam, I love you, and I don’t know why I let you go, and you just look so fucking beautiful right now, and I miss everything about you, jellybean” He says it so fast you almost couldn’t comprehend what he was saying.

“I love you too.” Right after the words left your lips, you were suddenly on his lips. Slowly backing up as he kicks the door closes and pushes your back up against the wall. Your lips move in perfect synchronization, as he takes your legs and wraps them around his waist so he has control of your mobility.

“Where’s your bedroom?” Christian manages to slip past his lips in midst of your kissing.

“Third door on the left” He carried you down the hallway into your room and slowly dropped you on the bed and he leaned over to continue kissing you. But then you both heard the find of the doorbell and a faint call.

“Babe open the door before the pizza gets cold” You then remembered about Sam.

“Oh shit”

[hedgehog-moss]

Some plant news! I've been waiting impatiently to see if the stuff I planted last autumn had survived the winter, and it's looking good so far. All my young fruit trees are blooming (quince, cherry, apple, mirabelle)

The persimmon has no blossoms but some microscopic leaves, I hope it grows more vigorous... I only lost one baby chestnut tree, which seems to have been massacred by a very angry animal. A boar having a bad day? I'll have to plant a couple more this autumn and protect them better. I can just use the remains of one of the many types of fences that Pampe has defeated.

My greenhouse now has to wear a blanket in the afternoons so it doesn't get too hot inside. I planted four flowering shrubs around it in November, so their roots will consolidate the new terraces, and I'm happy to say they are all accounted for—these two have already doubled in volume, they seem thrilled to be there:

Whereas these two all but disappeared during the winter, the ground just swallowed them; I wasn't too optimistic but they showed up again last month, with timid new leaves :) (The pics are very zoomed in, the resurrected shrubs are about the size of my fist but I'm proud of them)

Also I found wild redcurrants by the stream last year and I snapped a few small branches and just stuck them in a pot without really believing it would work. Internet said it would work but it seemed impossible. I left the pot outside all winter, never watering it or taking care of it in any way, with these four bare sticks that I sometimes looked at dubiously. It worked!!! They have leaves now! I made new redcurrant plants by sticking branches in dirt, it feels magical. They're my favourite berries too...

(My project for next autumn will be to propagate elderberry cuttings alongside the fence.) And speaking of berries, I got to eat my first aquaponic-grown strawberry today, it was delicious <3 Congratulations to the 42 fish who are hard at work fertilising the plants in the towers. There are many more strawberries in preparation!

I leave the greenhouse doors open all day when it's sunny so there are pollinators busily flying in and out, doing their job. I tried to relocate a few ladybirds to the strawberry towers to eat aphids but without success, I think they left immediately...

My lettuce and tomato plants are doing great, but the courgette plants got decimated by slugs despite my efforts to repel them. I ended up buying some organic antislug product a friend of my mum's recommended. I started new courgette seeds, and I'll wait until they're bigger to transplant them to slug territory.

The little Mexican orange tree is blossoming, and finally making new leaves (the new ones are yellow) after looking worryingly bald for a while this winter. The blossoms really do smell like orange blossoms! I know it's right there in the name but I'm still like oh look at you you talented orange tree, you got the smell of your flowers right on the first try and everything

Congrats to Mascarille who was looking for the greenhouse entrance in the above pic (she always has to walk around it a few times, she's confused by glass walls) and eventually triumphed over adversity.

Oh and I'm still getting fresh peas, in homeopathic quantities. I found that they grow well in the middle of winter so I'll plant a lot more this autumn when the towers aren't full of strawberries and herbs; for now I've started just eating them raw like little green candy.

Last but not least, Louise Michel the new hen has finally learnt how to climb my homemade stairs that lead to the greenhouse! Look at her showing off her new skill, all casually like this problem hasn't stumped her for weeks:

[sequinsmile-x]

Hold On To You

It's New Year's Eve, Emily is overdue, and they are going to Dave's house for his annual party. What could possibly go wrong?

-x-

Hi friends!

Happy New Year!! This is a fic based on a prompt I got asking for something where Emily is overdue and goes into labour at Dave's house at New Year's.

As always, I got entirely carried away and this is just shy of 5k words.

I really hope you enjoy this and that you have a good New Year. I just wanted to take the chance to say thank you for all the comments, kudos, likes and reblogs this year - it truly means the world that my writing means something to people.

Here's to another year of me putting these idiots in just about every situation <3

For the last time in 2023, please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: Pregnancy, Labour, cursing (but who can blame Emily, she's having a baby on her friend's couch)

Words: 4.8k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“We don’t have to go, sweetheart.” 

She rolls her eyes at her husband, something he misses entirely because he’s kneeling on the floor in front of her, dutifully tying her shoes with so much care and attention she doesn’t know whether to yell at him or kiss him. She rubs a circle on her belly, shifting on the couch in a failed attempt to get comfortable, something she’d been unable to do for months. 

“We should go,” she says, grunting at a particularly hard kick against her ribs, “Jack is excited to hang out with Henry, and he keeps saying he’ll make it to midnight this year.” 

It was Dave’s annual New Year's Eve party and whilst the idea of getting dressed up and spending her evening anywhere other than home was the last thing Emily wanted to do, she didn’t want to let Jack down. He was, at most, days away from being a big brother, and the last thing she wanted to do was make any potential resentment toward his new sibling start before they were even born. Jack’s initial reaction to finding out Emily was pregnant was less than ideal, his concerns that she would love the baby more than she loved him causing him to act out, to say things he immediately regretted and apologised for. Whilst that was months ago, it was something she still worried about, a seed in the back of her mind that had planted and bloomed, making her almost go out of her way to make sure Jack felt like a part of all of this. 

Aaron smiles up at her as he double loops the laces on her sneakers, “I think we both know he’ll be asleep in one of Dave’s spare rooms by 11 pm,” he stands up and sits next to her on the couch, looping one arm around her shoulders and resting his other hand on her bump, “You know he’d understand, Em.” 

She hums and rests her head on his shoulder, “I know, but we should still go,” she says, smiling when she feels the baby move, “Besides, if we stop going to things because I’m massively pregnant we’ll never go to anything again - I don’t think Pickle is ever coming out.” 

He can’t help but hide a smile in her hair at the use of the baby’s nickname, something that their actual name would soon replace. Whilst Aaron would have liked to have found out whether they were having a boy or a girl, Emily had insisted that they waited - wanting nothing more than to find out when her baby was passed to her, a well-earned surprise at the end of a long journey. He let her have the final call, knowing her opinion well outweighed his in matters like this, and instead, they’d settled on a nickname. 

Despite usually hating them, always pulling them out of burgers and handing them to him, she’d been craving pickles since the moment her nausea had stopped at the start of her second trimester. Their fridge was full of jars of them since she now had them with every meal, no matter how strange the combination, so naming their unborn child ‘Pickle’ made sense. 

“Only a couple more days to go until they induce you,” he says, kissing the top of her head, and she pulls back to look at him, her eyes narrowing. She was overdue by almost a week now and she was furious about it, her anger driving her to tears most nights as she struggled to get comfortable enough to sleep. Exhaustion and the almost primal need to hold her baby making her irritable. 

“No more ‘only a couple more days’ talk unless you’re the one with a baby pressing on your organs,” she says, and he nods, swallowing thickly, and she huffs out a short breath, “I don’t remember how it feels to breathe deeply.” 

“Of course,” he says, kissing her cheek, “Sorry, sweetheart.” 

She grimaces as pain washes over her, her belly briefly tight with it and she curses as she squeezes his hand, “Fucking practice contractions,” she grumbles, squeezing his hand tighter until the pain passes, “I’ve been having them all damn day,” she blows out a breath as it passes, “I swear to God if Spencer says something about them being ‘mild’ again I’m going to kill him.” 

Aaron clears his throat to cover a laugh, knowing it would do nothing short of getting him in trouble, and he rubs a soothing circle on her stomach as the tightness eases, “I don’t think he’ll ever say anything to you about pregnancy again after you made him cry last time.” 

She rolls her eyes, “I didn’t make him cry,” she denies, even though she knows she had, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as she remembers the conversation in question, “And anyway, he should never have called me a geriatric mother.” 

Jack comes bursting into the room before Aaron can say anything, the young boy's excitement palpable as he bounces on his feet in front of them. 

“Are we ready to go?” He asks, and Aaron nods, standing up and chuckling as he ruffles his son’s hair and he tries to dive out of the way. 

“We’re ready, Jack,” he says, digging his car keys out of his pocket and passing them over to him, “Why don’t you go wait in the car - we’ll be out in a minute.” 

Jack nods enthusiastically and runs out of the room, the sound of the front door being pulled open following shortly after. 

“You’re going to need to help me up,” Emily grumbles, smiling softly when she spots Aaron is already holding his hand out to her, “Thanks, honey.” 

She groans as she stands up, only letting go of Aaron’s hand when she’s up as straight as she can be there days. She winces as she presses her hands into her lower back, the ache more persistent than usual, and Aaron looks at her, his brows furrowed.

“You okay, sweetheart?” 

She nods, her lips pressed together as she shifts back and forth on her feet to ease some of the pressure, “I’m fine,” she says, looking down at her outfit and sighing, plucking at the dark green material of her dress, “I look like a blimp in a dress, but I’m fine.” 

He smiles and kisses her, his hand on her cheek as he holds her in place for a moment before he pulls back, “You look beautiful.” 

She hums and shakes her head at him, “You’re a liar, Aaron Hotchner,” she says, stamping her lips against his to stop him from arguing with her, “But I love you for it.” 

She groans quietly as she follows him out of the house, her waddle slowing her down in a way she hadn’t known was possible, the ache in her back not diminishing at all. She runs her hand up and down her bump. 

“Come on Pickle,” she mutters to her baby, unable to stop herself from smiling when she feels a kick that feels like a response, “Let’s go sit on a couch in Uncle Dave’s house for a change of scenery.” 

___

She smiles and listens and laughs at the right moments, but she can’t say she’s enjoying herself. She’s uncomfortable in a way she didn’t know was possible, unable to find any relief at all as she consistently shifts back and forth on the couch. Aaron, whose endless patience for her only seems to irritate her more in a way she knows he doesn’t deserve, goes out of his way to make her as comfortable as possible. He brings her pillows from one of Dave’s bedrooms, positioning them behind her back because he knows it’s better than the cushions from the couch itself, and he gets her whatever food she can stomach. 

She grimaces as another practice contraction starts to build, her grip on Aaron’s knee night as she places her hand there, and the only thing she can think is that she’s incredibly grateful Jack and Henry are in another room playing. 

“Are you okay, Em?” JJ asks, her eyebrows furrowed as she looks at her. Emily grits her teeth and nods, blowing out a slow breath as the pain reaches its peak. 

“I’m fine,” she says, smiling tightly as Aaron places his hand over hers on her knee, “It’s just Braxton Hicks,” she says, her body relaxing as the contraction passes, “I’ve been having them all day.”

“Are…are you sure they are Braxton Hicks?” Spencer asks, looking slightly nervous as everyone looks over at him. He clears his throat before continuing, “Only, they aren’t usually in a pattern. And when you got here they were 12 minutes apart and now they are closer to 7.”

“You’ve been timing her contractions?” Derek asks, frowning at Spencer, “That’s a little weird, Reid. Even for you.”

“It’s a pattern,” Spencer says, shrugging his shoulders, “I’m good at recognising patterns,” he looks back at Emily and cowers slightly under her glare, “I’m just saying, are you sure you’re not in labour?”

She scoffs and shakes her head, pressing her hand into her bump, “I’m not in labour,” she says, the denial sounding weak even to her own ears, and she turns to look at Aaron, “I’d know if I was in labour or not, right?” 

Aaron links his fingers through hers and squeezes her hand reassuringly. As worried as he was, especially because he had a feeling Spencer could be right, he knew this was not the time for him to freak out. He had to be there for his wife. 

“Do you think you could be?” He asks, ignoring the presence of their friends, all of his focus on her, on the way he could see her already frayed nerves coming even more unravelled. 

“I…don’t think I am-” she says, cutting herself off as she looks down at her lap, grimacing at the wet feeling between her legs, “Okay, I definitely am in labour,” she says, sounding much calmer than she feels as she looks back up at Aaron, “My water just broke.” 

“Are you sure?” He asks, looking her up and down. He’s aware of how their friends spring into action, how all of them stand up, but his focus is still on her. 

“Well, either that or I just peed myself on Dave’s couch.” 

“That couch is made of Italian leather,” Dave complains, taking a step back as Emily looks sharply at him, her glare followed by everyone else's, and he nods to himself, “It’s fine, it can be wipe cleaned.” 

Aaron makes sure his stern gaze is fixed on his friend for a beat longer than necessary before he looks back at his wife, “We’ll get you to the hospital, okay?” 

She nods, but her response is cut off as another contraction rolls through her, making her yell out as she grasps his hand, her nails digging into his skin, “Holy shit this one hurts.” 

“That wasn’t seven minutes,” Penelope says, wide-eyed as she looks back at Spencer, “I thought you said you were timing them.”

“I was,” he says, close to stuttering, “But maybe she’s having a precipitous labour,” he says, rolling his eyes when everyone except Aaron looks at him like he’s insane, “A fast labour. It comes on quickly. There are risk factors, including giving birth in an unsterilised environment-” 

“God I regret letting you read my pregnancy books on the jet,” Emily breathes out, cutting him off before he can carry on, her teeth clenched as the contraction barely lets up before she starts to have another one, “Fuck I’m having another one.” 

She rests her head against Aaron’s shoulder, her hands in tight fists around his shirt, and she desperately tries to breathe through it. Everything around her except the pain and him disappears. She’s vaguely aware of Aaron telling Dave to call an ambulance and asking JJ to go get some towels. He then turns his attention back to her, soft words of reassurance against her ear as she grunts. She pulls back to look at him and she’s grateful for how calm he seems, some of her panic eased by the way he looks at her. A sense of serenity that briefly makes her forget she was in what felt like advanced labour on their friend's couch. 

“We need to go,” she chokes out, shaking her head as he holds her steady where she’s sitting, stopping her from standing up, “We need to get to the hospital.” 

“Dave is calling for an ambulance, sweetheart,” Aaron says, cupping her cheek, wiping away tears she hadn’t realised had fallen, “I don’t want to risk getting stuck in traffic with you in this much pain, okay?” 

She hears what he hasn’t said, that this is happening too quickly. That if he was able to get her up, something she wasn’t entirely sure was possible even though she’d tried to stand, it was unlikely he’d get her all the way to the car. Even if he did, there was every chance she wouldn’t make it to the hospital. 

She whimpers, a sound she hates, as she shakes her head at him again, the pain rolling through her unrelenting, “I can’t have a baby here,” she says, “This wasn’t the birth plan. I was meant to be in the hospital, with painkillers and an epidural,” she groans in pain, looking past Aaron to see their friends still just standing there, “And it was meant to just be us.” 

Aaron’s heart fractures in his chest at how vulnerable she sounds. It was something he knew she’d hate, especially in front of their friends, so he knows he has to do something - that he has to give her back some semblance of control of a situation that had rapidly gotten out of their hands. He turns to look at his friends, his expression stern, hoping he leaves no room for argument.

“All of you need to get out of here now,” he says, watching how Derek and Penelope frown, the latter already stepping closer to them, “She doesn’t need an audience for this, so please go keep the kids company, make sure Jack isn’t worried, but get out of here.” They nod and start to leave but he stops them, “Reid, don’t go too far, just stay on the other side of the door, in case we need your help.” 

Spencer nods and follows the others out, pulling the door behind him until it was mostly closed, leaving just a small gap he could talk through if necessary. 

Aaron turns back to Emily and smiles in a way he hopes is encouraging, “See, it’s just us now, okay, baby?” He says and she nods, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she tries to stop herself from yelling out in pain again, tears streaming down her cheeks with the effort. 

“The ambulance is on the way but they said it might take some time,” Dave says through the crack in the door, “They said to examine her and if the baby does come to clear its airways and leave the-”

Aaron can see how every word Dave is saying is making Emily feel worse, the shock setting in on top of the pain she was in, so he cuts him off, even though he knows he’s just trying to help. 

“Thanks, Dave,” he says, his tone of voice making his feelings clear, “Go wait with the others, keep an eye out for the ambulance.” 

There’s a brief pause before Dave replies, JJ’s voice quiet in the background as she talks to him, “The towels are just inside the door for you.” 

Emily looks over at the soft, white, towels that JJ had placed on the floor for them and she groans, “God, we’re going to spend a fortune replacing those towels for Dave.”

“I think he can afford to replace them himself,” Aaron chuckles, his relief at a small flash of his wife peeking through from underneath her fear nothing short of palpable. He kisses her forehead, “I’ll get them, I’ll be right back.” 

She nods, unable to say anything as the relentless pain makes her feel nauseous. She places her hands on her stomach and tries to breathe, “I know I kept saying you needed to get out of there, kid,” she says, choking on a laugh, “But this isn’t what I meant.” 

Aaron walks over to the door and picks up the towels and he looks through the crack in the door. He’s grateful that the only person outside the room is Spencer, who is sitting on the floor, his back to the door, patiently waiting to help if he is needed. 

Aaron turns back to look at his wife, frowning when he sees she’s trying to lean down, her fingers grasping for the laces on her shoes that he’d tied so neatly earlier. 

“What are you doing, Em?” He asks, rushing back over and placing the towels on the arm of the chair. He puts his hand on her leg and stops her, taking over undoing her shoes for her. 

“I didn’t want to get my shoes on Dave’s couch,” she says, reaching out and grasping the sleeve of Aaron’s shirt as the pain gets worse, “Fuck,” she closes her eyes, shaking her head as she feels a lot of pressure, “I think I need to push.” 

“I think this couch is about to have a lot worse than your shoes on it,” Aaron replies, making quick work of taking her other shoe off too, letting them fall to the floor without worrying about tidying them up. He helps her so she’s lying on the couch and he’s sitting between her legs. He shifts so his hand is on her knee, squeezing it so she looks at him, “We need to get your underwear off, okay?” 

She wants to say no, wants to refuse, but she knows she can’t. She knew this baby was coming here and now, the urge to push making her entire body so tense she thought she could shatter into a million pieces. She nods and lifts her hips, letting him pull the material down her legs. 

He stuffs her underwear into his pocket, not wanting her to feel any more exposed than she already would if their friends were to walk in and see her underwear on the floor. He looks up at her when he hears her laugh, a curious look on his face as he tilts his head. 

“I think you did that the night we ended up in this mess,” she says, her hand on her stomach as she nods towards his pocket, “Although I seem to remember that underwear being sexy and not big enough to cover the Potomac.” 

He shakes his head at her and squeezes her knee again, “You look sexy in anything,” he winks at her and she tries to glare at him but it’s lost as a sound that he can only describe as animalistic comes out of her. He remembers that sound, and it briefly pulls him back to when Haley was having Jack. It feels like it happened to a different person, like he was no longer the man who had stood next to Haley’s side and held her hand as she gave birth to their son. He guessed on some level he wasn’t the same man he was different, and he liked to think he was better, “I’m just going to have a look, okay.” 

She nods, stopping him for a moment with a hand on his arm, “Promise me whatever you see down there you’re still going to want to have sex with me after this.” 

He leans in and stamps a kiss against her lips, “Nothing is ever going to stop me wanting to have sex with you, Em.” 

“You guys know I’m still out here, right?” Spencer asks, his voice breaking through the unlikely sanctuary they’d built in Dave’s living room, and they both look at the door sharply. 

“Reid.”

“Spencer.” 

They chastise simultaneously, their only answer silence, and then they look back at each other, and Emily nods, giving Aaron the go-ahead. He pushes her dress up to her hips and pushes her knees apart, blowing out a steady breath before he looks back up at her, hoping he’s been able to cover his own turbulent emotions to his already terrified wife. 

“I can see the head.” 

Her eyes go wide and she shakes her head, her trembling lips pressed together, “No it can’t be…” she drifts off, her head falling back against the couch cushions behind her and she screams, unable to keep it in any longer, “Fuck I think I need to push.” 

“Then you should push, sweetheart,” he says, “The baby is already on the way.” 

She swears that she feels her body take over, the immense pressure and pain forcing her to push even if she didn’t want to. She groans as she falls back, Spencer’s instructions from the other side of the door to slow down when the head comes out just about registering. 

“This sucks,” she says, her breath catching in her chest, her entire body on fire, “This sucks so fucking much.”

“You’re so close, Em,” Aaron says, his eyes fixed on the dark hair on their baby’s head, “So close.”

“That’s easy for you to say you asshole,” she says, outright calling him a name for the first time since this had all started, “You’re not the one giving birth in our friend's living room.” Instead of replying, Aaron takes her hand and places it on the baby’s head, watching as any anger or frustration melts away, her fingers shaking as she touches the baby’s hair, “Oh my God, that’s our baby’s head,” she says, looking up at him, her eyes shining, “That’s Pickle’s head.” 

Aaron nods, leaning in and pressing his forehead against hers, gladly passing her some of his strength, knowing he’d give her all of it if she asked. 

“You’re so close, Em,” he says again, the words actually encouraging this time, and he pulls away, taking his position back in between her legs, “Just one more push.”

She nods and sucks in a breath, bearing down with more strength than she thought she had as she lets out one final scream. She feels her baby slip into the world and Aaron’s waiting hands, and she gasps, the sensation followed by the longest moment of silence in her life. Then the baby cries, loud and squawking and totally furious to be born. Aaron clears the baby’s airways and he lets out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob as he looks up at his wife. 

“It’s a boy,” he says, looking back down at his son as he passes him over to Emily, her hands shaking as she takes the baby. 

“It’s a boy?” She asks in disbelief, her eyes fixed on her little boy, her son as she holds him to her, “We have a son,” she looks at Aaron, laughing through the tears that fall onto her cheeks, “Holy shit we have another little boy.”

“No cursing in front of him,” Aaron says, laying a towel over the still crying baby before he shifts to sit behind his wife, enjoying a moment with her and their newborn son before he has to worry about the next stage of all of this. 

“He’s literally two minutes old, honey,” she says resting on Aaron as he sits behind her, “He doesn’t even know where he is, let alone what a curse word is,” she stares at her little boy. He was bright red, his dark hair was glued down to his skin by god knows what, but he was beautiful, “He’s perfect.” 

Aaron kisses the side of her head, “Just like his Mommy,” he says, “I love you.”

She turns to look at him, her eyes shining with love and joy, “I love you too.”

There’s a soft knock on the door, drawing their attention away from each other, Dave’s voice breaking through the little bubble they’d created even though he remains on the other side of the door, “The ambulance is here, JJ is just showing them in now.” 

Aaron squeezes Emily closer, the way she tenses at the mention of other people, her eyes still fixed on the baby on her chest, and he runs his hand up and down her arm, “Thanks, Dave. Can you make sure-”

“Everyone is on the other side of the house with a strict instruction not to come over here until you’re gone.” 

Emily hums, almost talking to herself when she speaks, “I wonder what he had to bribe Pen with to agree to that.” 

“A case of my finest French wine, Bella,” he says, and they both know exactly what smile he has on his face even though they can’t see, “So it’s the couch, the towels and the wine that you owe me now.” 

She knows he’s joking, knows that he’d have given anything to help them through this, so all she does is lean in further to her husband's side as the door is pushed open and the EMTs walk in alone. 

“You can have anything you want, Dave,” she says, stroking her finger up and down her son’s soft cheek, “I have everything I need.” 

___

She’d never experienced peace at a hospital. 

It was always a place of trauma, of grief, but as she looked down at her son’s face as he slept against her, tucked in under her hospital gown, peace was the only word that seemed right. 

“How are you two doing?”

She smiles as she looks up at her husband, who was standing in the doorway having popped out in the hallway to make a couple of calls, the unrelenting joy on his face something she knew was reflected in her own. 

“We’re okay,” she says quietly as Aaron walks over, carefully joining her on the bed. She secures the baby against her as she shifts to allow her husband to sneak in behind her. She winces as she settles against him, offering him a smile as worry flashes across his face, “I’m okay, just very sore,” she scrunches her nose up as she tries to get comfortable, “Getting those stitches was not fun.” 

Once the EMTs had cut the chord and helped Emily deliver the placenta they’d brought them all to the hospital. JJ had agreed to take Jack home for the night, the little boy thankfully very agreeable despite his excitement at his sibling being born. Emily knew she’d be here for a couple of days, the quick labour and delivery meant the doctors wanted to keep an eye on her and the baby, and she was grateful for it - the residual fear that something was wrong even though her son had passed all of his tests with flying colours not quite leaving her alone. 

“Jack is already asleep,” Aaron says, “He and Henry are having a sleepover and the team is raising a glass to us all at midnight.” 

She hums contentedly, “As much as today was not what I wanted,” she says, tearing her eyes away from her son to look at Aaron, “I’m grateful for them,” she smiles softly, “And for the fact they respected our wishes.” 

“I would have barricaded the door if that’s what it took,” he says seriously and she kisses his jaw, pressing her love for him into his skin. The baby cries out and they both turn to look at him, Emily’s soft shushing and her lips against the top of his head enough to quieten him down, “We need a name for this little guy, I don’t think he’d thank us for calling him Pickle in about 15 years,” Aaron says, placing his hand on his son’s back, linking his fingers through Emily’s, “I think the boy name we had picked out works perfectly, don’t you?”

She studies her son’s face, desperate to log every little bit of it to her memory, well aware that these early days that felt long as they were happening would go far too quickly. She smiles and nods, trailing her knuckle softly down the baby’s cheek. 

“It’s perfect,” she says, shifting to kiss her son’s forehead, “Hi Hugo,” she says softly, tears she couldn’t explain if she wanted to gathering in her eyes, “Welcome to the world.” 

A cheer from the nurse's station, muffled by the closed door, draws their attention away from Hugo, and Aaron smiles as he checks his watch. 

“Happy New Year, sweetheart.” 

She smiles and leans in to kiss him, well aware this would be her favourite year yet, “Happy New Year, honey.” 

-x-

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[audrak79]

Broken, but not beyond repair...

I never imagined that at 45, having been married 24 years, and having spent 29 years in that same relationship, that I would be working through a divorce.  I have worked in the legal field helping others through their divorces for 27 years. The story of how I got here is not for all to know and certainly not something to share like this. It’s a story that affects many and, while their story is part of mine, that does not mean I have a right to air it all out.

A big part of my story began when I was 16. I had no clue who I was, where I was going, what I wanted to be, I was just a baby and knew one thing... I wanted out of where I was and I knew there had to be something better. What happened from here many would call a fairy tale. Much of it seemed that way. But as with any relationship, it had its problems, ups and downs. I’ve learned a lot in my life, most of it the hard way.  As with any relationship, we both could have and should have done better, worked harder for it. Life gets exhausting and people change. And while we can't change people or stop them from changing, we CAN control what we tolerate and how we respond to what’s in front of us.    

The last 3 years have been the toughest 3 years of my life.  It’s been trying on our family.  That’s a story and testimony for another blog... when the time is right.  Trauma affects our whole story and the stories of those closest to us and sometimes it even branches out further than that.  As Pastor Mike Todd has said, “what you don’t transform, you transfer.” Before you start a relationship, you should know your own identity or you will take on that of others and try to make them your own. Process your own trauma. You can't expect a good relationship if you don’t feel you can share your trauma because you've never faced it head on and you try to pretend it never happened. Get comfortable with yourself so that you can be vulnerable without fear of shame or embarrassment. It's hard to help someone through their trauma if you've never addressed your own. Faking it only causes bitterness, anger, anxiety, depression, stonewalling etc. and just as you can't control someone or change others, you can’t control their healing either, and you certainly won't help them when you ignore your own hurt. One thing I wish for every human, and I am still working on, is that we could all master the art of good communication. Listening more, talking less. Communicating expectations so assumptions don't leave one hurt unnecessarily. Sometimes a person just needs to know they are heard.

I've made poor choices, I'll continue to make poor choices. But I'm going to strive each day to make better choices. I'm going to try starting fresh and this time around, NOT do things out of order. I'm going to stay firm and grounded in Christ, so much that it spews out in everything I do and I will not be ashamed or embarrassed of what that looks like. I will love so hard that it makes others wonder where it comes from and plants a seed to be watered that has them seeking the Lord because they need that kind of joy in their life. I will forgive more as I also need forgiven and holding onto that seed of offense only allows a root of bitterness to grow. Life is painful. Words hurt. Life and death are in the power of the tongue (Proverbs 18:21) and it takes a lifetime of practice. Out of the heart the mouth speaks (Luke 6:45), which is why we need to check our hearts before we speak. 

Regret.... without the poor decisions I've made, I may never have come to know who I am, I wouldn't have some of the greatest things and experiences that I have had. While I have regret for any harm I may have done to others, and I am sad and even disappointed in myself for the way I have handled some things, I am not sure I would wish for things to have been different. In a perfect world, sure, but we live in a broken world and I'm going to pray that God will continue to make beauty from my ashes, even from the dumpster fires that I caused or fanned into flame. What I CAN do is, instead of focusing on what I did wrong or could have done better... repent, turn, start new, fresh, and try harder to simply be a better reflection of Christ today than I was yesterday. I know I will never regret following Him.

So, excuse me while I heal. It looks different for everyone and while this seems like a new life event as social media and public appearances paint a pretty picture, it may not be as fresh as the picture was painted. I'll likely not be on social media for a while other than to share an occasional Word from God with a picture of my coffee. I trust that those closest to me will reach out personally and directly. My profiles have my contact info in them. God is good, even when we aren't. Trust the process. Be willing to be refined in the fire. I promise, eternity with Christ is worth it. I was reading a few months ago in Isaiah and shared the following on social media:

“Studying this morning and as I hit Isaiah 38 and 39, I praised God for His reminder of the importance of humility, the dangers of pride, and that our actions have consequences. But most importantly, that EVEN when I suffer consequences, EVEN when things seem to go badly, EVEN in the midst of suffering... I will praise my God and thank Him for His love, correction, and grace. For His ways are higher than mine. Who am I to criticize His divine direction.”

I know who I am now. I am the daughter of the King Most High, a co-heir with Christ. I am chosen, forgiven, treasured, sought, beautiful, strong, flawless, never forsaken. I am His.

8/20/24

[dandelionsresilience]

Good News - March 15-21

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1. Comeback on the cards for Asian antelope declared extinct in Bangladesh

“Nilgais, the largest antelope species in Asia, are reappearing in northwestern Bangladesh, a country that was part of their historical range but where they were declared locally extinct in the 1930s due to habitat loss and hunting.”

2. Tribal Homes in Minnesotta [sic] Get $1.4M for Clean Electricity

““This grant will allow us to make electrification improvements to our members’ homes and involve them more directly in our efforts to change our energy narrative and achieve our net zero goal.””

3. Pollinators Flock to Flower-Filled Solar Panel Fields

“As populations of crucial pollinators decline, developers have been seeding the grounds of their solar arrays with native wildflowers. Now a five-year study published in Environmental Research Letters confirms that this approach boosts the pollinators’ abundance and diversity—with spillover benefits for surrounding farms.”

4. U.S. House of Representatives Passes WILD Act

“The WILD Act supports funding two different initiatives: […] the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service’s Partners for Fish and Wildlife Program offers critical support for voluntary conservation initiatives[, and…] The Multinational Species Conservation Funds play a pivotal role in supporting the conservation of imperiled species globally”

5. Private Gender Affirming Care Ban Fails To Advance In England After "Ferret Filibuster"

“A bill banning puberty blockers for trans youth and defining sex to exclude trans people was blocked from being heard after Labour MPs spoke at length on pet names and ferrets.”

6. Community-Led Effort to Plant Thousands of Seedlings

“Despite its urban surroundings, [the Tucki Tucki] creek serves as a vital refuge for the endangered platypus and purple spotted gudgeon populations. […] Planting native vegetation along the water’s edge serves multiple purposes. Not only does it provide crucial habitat for the endangered species, but it also helps stabilise the banks, mitigating erosion and reducing sedimentation in the creek.”

7. Court Ruling Halts Wolf Trapping and Snaring in Idaho Grizzly Bear Habitat

“[The ruling] will stop trapping and snaring […] to prevent the unlawful take of Endangered Species Act-protected grizzly bears. The decision stated, “There is ample evidence in the record, including from Idaho’s own witnesses, that lawfully set wolf traps and snares are reasonably likely to take grizzly bears in Idaho.””

8. A Boston grocery store is bringing community solar to a low-income area

“A group of energy-equity advocates in Boston is launching a community solar cooperative they say could be a scalable model for both reducing carbon emissions and building wealth in disadvantaged communities.”

9. Two-faced solar panels can generate more power at up to 70% less cost

“Scientists at the University of Surrey have built a new kind of solar panel with two faces, both of them pretty. Their flexible perovskite panels have electrodes made of tiny carbon nanotubes. These can generate more power with greater efficiency and at a cost 70% lower than existing solar panels.”

10. It's a boy! Athens zoo welcomes birth of rare pygmy hippo

“A rare and endangered pygmy hippopotamus has been born in Athens’ Attica Zoological Park for the first time in 10 years, delighting conservationists. A lack of male pygmy hippos in captivity had complicated breeding efforts, so zoo staff were “absolutely thrilled” the baby was a boy”

March 8-14 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)