#i have no clue all I know the bread burnt to a crisp

[stargazerspringles]

Funny meme >:D

[illyrianwingspans]

Do No Go Gentle: Donna

Link to song: Donna by the Lumineers

Synopsis: In which Feyre has a business meeting with a potential employer. 

TW: Vague mentions of self-harm and abuse. 

Ao3 Link

Chapter 21: Donna

Rhys

Like fucking clockwork, I woke with the rising sun.

It took less than five minutes to peel out of my sheets and pull some clothes on. Two minutes to down the shot of espresso and munch through an apple in the kitchen. One minute to creep back up the stairs quietly and open that door, just the tiniest slit—

Her figure was slumped to the side, arm dangling off the ledge of the bed. But I could see it, that steady up and down of her chest. Alive. Breathing. Peaceful.

Striking.

It was the only confirmation I needed before peeling back down the stairs and throwing on a pair of sneakers. As the pink clouds began to fade, my feet slammed against the pavement. The sun was still a blip on the horizon, Prythian wiping away the night’s remaining darkness, and with each song drowning out the noise in my ears more cars began to appear on the road as the rest of the city awoke. Soon enough, I was washed in the rays of sunshine. Sweat soaked through my thin long-sleeve, but I didn’t care. I just kept pushing.

It’d been three weeks since I ran. But this morning, I felt wired. Like my mind hadn’t turned off last night in its slumber. How could it? Not after what happened yesterday. Not after what Feyre told me last night.

I’d never felt anything like it before. It was a physical, throbbing ache in my chest, like my heart had truly cleaved in half and spilled all its venomous ichor into my body.

For some reason, it was worse than watching her perched on the ledge of the roof. Knowing that she’d been so miserable, for far longer than I could’ve imagined—

It struck something within me. Like a pianist crescendoing to the climax of a song only to play the wrong chord.

And I had no idea how to help her.

That’s what scared me the most out of all of this—despite my best efforts, Feyre’s condition was beyond my abilities. I’d done all I could out of my own personal experience to try and assuage the difficulties she’d experienced in the last three weeks, but this…

Last night, I felt completely and utterly useless. That was the worst part, I thought, about seeing someone you care about struggle with mental health issues—knowing that there is very little you can do to help. All I had were my words, carefully chosen to goad her into speaking as much as she comfortably would, and gentle enough to tell her that I was there for her, that I would support her. But all I wanted to do, all my instincts roared at me to do, was hold her. Hug her against me. Tell her that I was there, that I cared about her.

Those feelings pounding within my heart flared up again, and my foot faltered on its next step.

I stopped in my tracks. The rap music was still blaring in my ears. I ripped my earphones out, letting them dangle along my neck, and strode over to a nearby bench as I tried to shove some air into my lungs.

Fuck, I thought, I’m so out of shape.

My fingers were already dashing across the screen. Plenty of articles came up after the search, and I scrolled through them, taking screenshots of things that caught my eye. If I didn’t know how to help her, the least I could do was arm myself with some information. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a starting point.

When the steely pincers of anxiety finally unclamped themselves from my fried nerves, I was off again. There were so many other pieces of the story that seemed to root themselves in my mind, no matter how fast or hard I pushed my body, they never seemed to shake away.

I was in a car accident two years ago.

I killed someone.

It couldn’t have been her. No, I refused to hold onto that piece of illogical information my brain was trying to latch itself to. So I blasted my music up higher, and kept running.

***

Feyre

The only thing I knew how to cook was scrambled eggs.

Dad taught me how. When I was in high school, usually Elain made breakfast so I could have something in the mornings, but no one ever made me lunch. I relied on the lunch service the school provided for the ‘less fortunate’—but I couldn’t use it too often. No, if I went there every day, then the school got suspicious and started asking questions I wasn’t ready to answer. So, once or twice a week I’d go to the Home Ec room and take the cheese sandwich, apple and juice box—it was better than nothing. The counsellor would smile at me, I’d fake a story about sleeping in, missing the bus, anything but the truth that gnawed at the back of my mind.

We didn’t have money. We lived in a shitty two bedroom condo, bought with the remnants of money my dad had after mom died, and could barely pay for weekly groceries. Utilities, other household bills, dad paid when he was sober enough to read. But groceries came out of my pocket and the penance of a salary I earned as an administrative aid at school. It was only an hour or two after school, and it paid alright, but all the money went towards food.

My sisters didn’t bat an eye at the effort. They kept on their usual business, attending college on their scholarships. I sure as hell wasn’t smart enough to get a scholarship, but the financial aid department took one look at my level of income and offered to pay a hefty percentage, while the rest was covered by student loans. I thought I’d have to work those off for years.

Until he came along and paid them without even batting an eye. That, and any other outstanding debt my sisters or father had. And, and—I couldn’t leave out the wondrous house he’d bought on the other side of the city. The one we’d both helped my father move the boxes to, the one Nesta and Elain had definitely never visited after they’d moved out.

I couldn’t help but think about my dad. I wondered what he was doing right now, across the city, by himself. And the first thing that came to my mind was the bottle of whiskey sitting on the floor by his chair. He was always slumped in that chair with a faraway smile on his face. Sometimes I would sit next to him on the second hand couch and we’d watch TV together. Most of the time, I’d take one look at him and storm off to my room to imagine another life where none of it happened. Where mom didn’t die, where we weren’t flat broke, and I wasn’t miserable.

How I’d gone from the two bedroom condo to this townhouse, I didn’t want to think about. All I knew was that I’d never have to go back there again.

Because of him.

The front door opened and closed quietly, shaking me from my thoughts. I focused once again on my eggs, dividing both of them into two plates before setting four slices of bread in the toaster. When the footsteps got closer, I turned and saw Rhys there, sweat dripping down his face, rap musing blaring from his earphones. He hadn’t spotted me yet in the kitchen, his eyes on his phone. From where I stood between the stove and the kitchen island, I had a clear view of his hand reaching down to clutch his t-shirt and pull it over his head in one swift movement, ripping the earphones away as well.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t stare at his chest. Defined and smooth, pure muscle was glistening in the light from the bay windows at the front of the living room. His stomach was hardened, toned yet still soft where the tan skin heaved from his panting. And on his chest, down his biceps—

Tattoos. Beautiful, midnight blue tattoos swirling down his skin in inky swirls, contrasting his tanner colouring. I’d seen them, a peek of them that night at Rita’s, but glancing at them now, I couldn’t help but appreciate the craftsmanship behind such beauty. Art in all forms were difficult to master—but when your canvas was human flesh, it made it all the more impressive.

And on him, it looked breathtaking.

“Something smells burnt,” he smirked at me, wiping the sweat on his face with his t-shirt.

I gasped, jumping out of my stupor as I turned to the toaster. Of course, the four slices staring back at me were black. Burnt to a mother-fucking crisp.

I sighed. Of course out of the two components of this meal, I’d burn the most idiot-proof one. At least I had a reasonable excuse for it standing in the living room.

“Like what you see, darling?” Rhys called as he clambered up the stairs.

“Oh, go jump in the shower. I could smell you from down the block.”

I stared angrily down my plate as I shovelled the eggs into my mouth. The new round of toast was grilling, the toaster on a much lower setting this time, and it popped up by the time Rhys’s footsteps hit the ground level once again. How he’d managed to pull himself together so quickly—tux, gelled hair and shaven face, I had no clue, but I’d be lying to myself if I said he didn’t look immaculate. Nonetheless, I tried my best to ignore his presence after that spout before.

He grinned as he took me in sitting at the counter.

“Don’t give me that look.”

His brows shot up, but that playful, mischievous glint in his eyes remained. “What look?”

“Like a cat just caught a fucking mouse. I have half a mind to dump your breakfast in the garbage.”

“At least it’ll keep that pitiful toast you chucked away from getting lonely.” Nonetheless, he took the four slices from the toaster, deposited two of them on my plate, and dug into his meal perched on the edge of the counter.

“There’s no need to deny that you find me attractive, Feyre. Just try not to ogle me so openly next time. It was very objectifying, to be quite honest.”

My cheeks heated, and I said around my mouthful of buttery bread, “Just when I thought your level self-esteem couldn’t get any higher. You’ll probably be replaying that moment in your mind all day.”

“Got a busy day, darling. Meetings in the morning at the office and a very important lunch date that I simply cannot miss. But I will try to squeeze in some daydreaming.” He pointed at me with his fork, his plate already scraped clean despite starting after me.  “Cassian’s coming by to hang out with you after.”

I rolled my eyes. “A babysitter? Seriously?”

Rhys looked over his shoulder from where he stood perching a travel mug beneath this spout of his Nespresso machine. “Not a babysitter, Feyre. A friend. Some company. Someone other than me to talk to.”

“Sending Cassian is like sending a carbon copy of yourself but with more muscle.”

“Firstly, he misses you and wanted to spend some time together. And secondly, ouch. You ogle me, then you insult me?” He twisted the cap onto his mug and fished his keys out of the dish by the edge of the counter, making his way towards the door.

“I’ll make sure to tell the chef to poison you today at lunch!” I called down the townhouse’s main corridor.

“And I’ll tell Cassian you’ve been dying to try his new CrossFit exercises!”

I rolled my eyes, but smiled to myself nonetheless after the door shut quietly behind him.

As I gathered the dishes to be washed in the sink, my mind wandered to last night. The two of us hunched in that tub speaking quietly to each other, me unveiling the darkest thoughts curled into the back of my mind.

I’d never said those words out loud before. With him, we just ignored that it was there in the first place. Lucien and Ianthe only found out because of that one incident at a charity dinner, when Ianthe picked a dress for me without thinking twice about it, and my scars were on display for anyone who got within five feet of me. I outright refused to show up to the stupid thing, but everyone insisted I made an appearance. Once Tamlin saw why, he made an excuse. Those who asked him—because it was impolite to ask me to my face—believed they were scars from the accident.

We all knew it was a lie. Lucien tried talking about it a few times with me, but I pushed him away. How the hell was I supposed to explain that I got so furious with my own mind that I intentionally hurt myself? Every time I tried, there was this burning sensation within my chest. Shame. Shame and crushing embarrassment.

But last night seemed so…easy. I didn’t know what it was about Rhys. I just always felt the need to tell him the truth. Whether it was because he’d seen me at my worst, or because he seemed to understand me like nobody else ever had. It was so…weird. To have somebody to listen to you after so long spent trapped in the silence.

Weird, and absolutely terrifying.

But there was also that festering guilt, and shame—immense shame, for those few moments when I looked at him in the living room. When I… enjoyed looking at him.

When I enjoyed our quiet dinner together last night.

I shook my head as I scrubbed the plate, the memory dissolving in my mind.

***

After Cassian treated me to a gruelling workout at his gym, I found myself back at the house, showered and prepped for Rhys and I’s lunch. Cassian had lingered downstairs to drive me over because Rhys was still caught up in a meeting.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” I wondered as Cassian and I weaved through streets downtown. Today the city was bright, ripe with activity and flurries of people. The air was slowly getting warmer. Soon I wouldn’t have to wear a jacket anymore.

“I’ve worked enough over the past two months to take a day off every now and then. Plus, I don’t think my boss cares too much,” Cassian said with a wink.

True. It was a constant reminder that though these people were his family, he technically pulled rank over them at work, with the investigation. But when they were just together, hanging out, it completely slipped my mind.

“Are the rest of them at the office, then?”

“Azriel’s pretty much stuck to his computer monitoring any possible anomalies in Hybern’s movements. He’s got someone following him just to be safe, but so far nothing much has happened. Amren’s combing through old files and investigations affiliated with him to see if she can catch anything and researching possible loopholes to prevent him from making the sale for that land. ” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Mor’s just trying to keep calm in the building and helping Rhys out as much as she can, but things are starting to get a little chaotic.”

“How do you guys do it all?” I asked, eyes trailing upon the buildings, which seemed to get smaller and smaller as we neared the outskirts of the city.

He shrugged and said, “We’re fighting together for something we all believe in. You don’t really need much else.”

I looked over at Cassian, his hands gripping the wheel, his face passive and calm as he slowed the car to a stop before a red light. I said, “It’s nice that you all found each other. That you all have each other.”

“And now you’ve got us as well, Archeron. And we’ve got you.”

My eyes burned as I looked out the window once more.

***

I looked up to the restaurant’s blue sign. Sevenda’s.

No other buildings stood nearby. We were about fifteen minutes out of town, and Cassian had already turned back to Prythian. I was left standing here in the parking lot, clad in my best black knee length dress, staring at a diner.

Before I could take another step, the front door opened, and there was his smiling face.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come in?”

“We’ll each have your special with some bannock on the side please,” Rhys said without even glancing at the menu. I shifted in the black leather booth, gazing between him and the middle aged, brown skinned woman before us. Her stark black hair was tied back in a braid that fell down past her waist line, nearly catching on the stained apron lining her body.

“It’s been too long, Rhysand. I almost didn’t recognize you when you walked in.” She reached over and ruffled his hair, as though he weren’t the CEO of a major Prythian powerhouse corporation. Her smile was warm and teasing, her dark eyes crinkling at the corners.

Rhys rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. “You’re embarrassing me in front of a business partner, Sevenda.”

“What? She’s not your date?”

My cheeks heated. I took a sip of my water, watching Rhys expectantly, wondering how this entire debacle was going to go.

“A potential employee,” he corrected her smoothly, shooting a glance my way. “Feyre keeps declining my advances, unfortunately.”

“I’ll go on a date with you the day you wear something besides black or navy.” I said, jutting my chin out at the dark suit he wore. He must’ve had hundreds of them in his closet.

“That’s my girl. Don’t be afraid to put this boy in his place, Gods know he needs it.” Sevenda turned towards the kitchen.

“Believe me, she does.” Rhys smirked as our gazes met. His eyes shifted over me appreciatively. “Did I mention you look exquisite today Feyre?”

I replied with an eye roll, “That’s the third time you’ve told me in ten minutes.”

“Just making sure you know how delicious you look in that dress.”

“Do you have any sense of self-control?”

“Of course, but it tends to fade away when a beautiful woman looks at me like that.” He tilted his head towards me and the snarl that lined my lips.

“Be glad I’m not your employee yet, I think I’d have to file a sexual harassment claim.”

“Yet?” Rhys’s eyes glinted.

“Well, if you’d get on with your proposition, I could finally make up my mind.”

He cleared his throat. “Night Industries would like to offer you a temporary full-time position as a secretary for yours truly.” I watched as he carefully took a sip of his water, his eyes trained on me the entire time. “Mor usually does a lot of that work for me, but I need her focus on the Hybern investigation right now, and I’m spread out too thin at the moment to try and look for candidates that I know and trust to do the job well. You have some experience in an office. You’ve worked in a cafe for a year now and you know what working under pressure is like. I need that kind of person right now on my team.”

Just as he opened his mouth again, Sevenda burst from the back of the restaurant with a tray perched on her shoulder holding steaming food. Immediately, a rich, aromatic scent filled the quiet space, and my mouth watered.

Swiftly, as though she’d done this for years, Sevenda slid two plates on the table filled half with rice, half with an orange, creamy stew that made my stomach gargle. She set down two extra plates with what seemed like two round flat buns that were golden and crispy.

“Enjoy!” She chirped after refilling our glasses.

I didn’t hesitate as I took my first mouthful. Creamy, warm, sweet, salty—spicy. Not overly so, but just enough for my mouth to heat. The meat was gamey, and the vegetables tasted glorious in the saturated juices.

“Why is there nobody in this restaurant?” I demanded after swallowing my first bite.

Rhys said, “Well, we’re near the reserve. They mostly only have local regulars and travellers passing through."

I shook my head. “But this is delicious.”

Rhys was beaming. He took one of his flatbreads, bannock I was guessing, and dipped it into the stew. I did so as well, and nearly groaned at the delightful taste.

Rhys said after swallowing, “I’ve been coming here since I was a child. Restaurants like this don’t really exist in Prythian, and I sure as hell don’t know how to cook this well.”

After another bite, I added quietly, “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He only watched me with that intent stare of his, then wondered, “What do you think of my proposal?”

My fork paused halfway down to the plate. “My office experience was limited, and most probably completely different from what working with you will be like.” My lips parted to add something else, And I don’t know if I can handle the humiliation of learning simple tasks. Not quite able to meet his gaze, I said instead, “I need to know that you’ll be patient with my learning process.”

“Your first twenty hours of work will be purely training, and should you ever have questions, you never hesitate to ask. We’re a team. We all help each other out.”

“Okay.” I made a gesture in my hand, and he took it as the cue to carry on.

“Your baseline job is mainly answering phone calls and emails, manning the elevator, scheduling appointments and running other errands for me should I need them. I’ll also probably have other projects on the side concerning the Hybern investigation, like the meeting we’ve got set with the Bone Carver, but those are optional. I understand you may be uncomfortable with those.”

He looked up to me for confirmation, but I said nothing. We were both quiet for a few minutes as we ate our meal, and finally Rhys wiped his mouth with a napkin, took a sip of his water, and laid both of his palms flat on the table.

“It’s a nine to five job. It’s not necessarily difficult work, but it’s still good work. Something to get you back on your feet. I’m offering it as temporary, but say the word, and we’ll sign you on for good.” He reached into his leather messenger bag and pulled out a leather portfolio case, then slid it over to me. I tentatively opened it up, eyes darting across the document before me.

“Take the time to read it if you want. It’s legal jargon, but believe me, you’re the last person I’d screw over with fine print bullshit.”

But I wasn’t hearing him, because my eyes had trailed down to the number listed at the top of the second paragraph. It was difficult to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor.

150 000$ starting salary.

“I can’t accept that.”

He sighed. “I knew you would say that.”

I’d never seen a sum like that in my life, nevertheless in my name.

“Rhys,” I said, “it’s too much.”

“I am paying you in accordance of your work responsibilities, as well as the confidentiality of the information you’re handling. You’ll have control of files and information that could put me under should anything be leaked or spread to the mainstream media. It’s a lot to expect of someone.”

I couldn’t say anything. I could just stare at that contract, unable to meet the eyes of the man who’d veritably given me a new life. No strings attached.

Just out of the pure kindness of his heart. A friend looking out for a friend.

There was that part of the back of my mind that was blaring, this is a red flag. This is him all over again.

But he never offered me the anything. He never gave me time, or space, or options, or a way out. He dictated our lives. He had it all laid out for the two of us, the way he wanted it, whether I liked it or not.

Rhys was giving me a choice. One that I could deny, and continue living under his roof until Gods-know when I got another job, and feel like a pathetic, miserable leech.

Or I could accept his kindness. I could use this as an opportunity. Maybe not permanent—maybe work that would dress up my CV. A stepping stone.

I didn’t know what was next, what else the universe had in store for me. But I knew that this job came with a team, my friends, and as Cassian told me earlier in that car, a purpose. I was lacking that, these days.

So I finally looked Rhys straight in the eyes and said, “Do you have a pen?”

[bubblemintkitten]

Luca/Tan - first kiss. 1 of X

A/N: Okay, it’s June. It’s PRIDE month. It’s 2020 and the world is going to hell in a hurry, and I kinda had more than second thoughts about writing and publishing this. Because the BLM movement is really important, and I didn’t really want to drag any attention away from it. But on the other hand, we kinda need a little ray of sunshine, shone through a prism… So let’s set this off with claiming that it’s AU, because REASONS. Luca and Tan are both late 20’s or early 30’s. Luca served in the army before he decided to follow in the footsteps of his father and grandpa… The rest you’ll figure out on your own. -Oh, and yeah… This will turn into a series of ‘glimpses’ through the years.

Word count: 1495

 Working with him hurt. Not because he did anything wrong, but because he was so off limits. From the beaming white smile, to his glistening blue eyes, to that pretty blond ruffled mop he had on top of his head. Tan had to work hard not to stare.

They had worked together for three or four years now, and over that time he had learned that the team’s blond driver was nothing but pure sunshine. He was a force of life, and that smile of his was highly infectious.

But, off limits.

As easy going as he could be, he knew that Luca also had a hard and rough side. The ex-military side of him shone through any time they were in action. Then the blond was full business, and nothing like the human golden retriever he usually was.

Tan sipped his whiskey. It burned nicely down his throat. All the way down to his chest, before the warmth settled in his stomach.

Luca smirked and winked towards him, and suddenly he realized that his eyes had lingered a little too long on Luca’s plump lips. He could feel himself blush, and was thankful for the dimly lit bar they were in.

Street clapped Luca on the shoulder, leaning down to shout something into his ear without it being washed out by the loud bar and music. Luca shrugged, but then shook his head, and Street gave a thumbs up before he called something that looked like ‘keys under the mat’, which Luca nodded at. Then Street waved good bye to the rest of them before he left.

And Luca turned back towards him, giving a cheeky smile before he slammed down another shot of Tequila.

 *             *             *

 Luca had noticed that Tan sometimes rested his eyes on him a bit longer than expected, or necessary. But, could it be?

Nah, probably not. It was just his imagination, right? Right?

A guy he found that hot, couldn’t possibly be interested in him. Could he?

Any other random guy at a bar, and he would gladly shoot his shot, because heck… What did he have to lose? It wasn’t like he couldn’t get out of awkward, or slightly risky, situations. But, he worked with Tan, and a confessing what he felt on a Friday night would possibly be remembered when Monday rolled around and their next shift started.

Bit he couldn’t NOT do anything either. He had to do something, or else the whole situation would drive him crazy.

The agave alcohol was building his confidence and tearing down his sense of self preservation. A few more shots and who knew? Maybe he would? Maybe?

Heck, a few more shots and he could blame the tequila.

But what was he going to say come Monday if everything worked out? He hadn’t let it slip that he liked guys, he hadn’t confirmed that he liked girls either to be honest. But he guessed he was one of those guys where people just assumed that he was straight.

“Hey, Luca! There’s a girl for you!” Hondo’s elbow connected with his upper arm, acquiring his attention.

He looked over, it was a pretty little petite girl. Maybe a couple of years younger than him. Mid 20’s maybe?

“Nah, not really that into blondes.” He smirked, “Gotta start thinking about kids one day, and I’m not taking part of creating another blond haired, blue eyed person who has to deal with the SoCal sun. That’s just mean.”

“I don’t see you getting burnt to a crisp…”

“Nah, but… That girl has freckles. It’s cute, but… Sunburn…”

“Alright…” Hondo chuckled, “You would’ve made a cute couple though…”

“We would have looked like the perfect couple, designed by he-who’s-name-shall-not-be-mentioned…”

“HP or White House?”

“You get one guess.” Luca rolled his eyes,

“Not HP…” Deacon chuckled.

Luca nodded, “Correct.”

“How about that one….”

“Nice bouncy curls, but she would barely reach my midriff…” Luca frowned, “Man, my back would be in all kinds of trouble from bending over to kiss or hug her.”

Chris chuckled, “So, what is it… Do you want kids, or don’t you?”

“I want kids… In the future…” Luca shrugged, “But right now, not so much. I mean, I’m barely an adult yet…”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tan crack a smile, and his heart fluttered.

“Speaking of that, I need to be an adult tomorrow…” Deacon sighed, “I should leave, or the kids will get the better of me by lunch time.”

“Okay, say hi to Annie from us then…” Hondo chuckled, “Oh, and glass of water and a slice of bread before you turn in tonight, okay?”

Deacon nodded, “Thanks, you guys have fun. And Hondo, quit trying to hook the kid up with a girl, you should find one for yourself instead.”

Hondo just grinned, “See you Monday!”

  *             *             *

 A little while later, Hondo had the good sense to ask Chris if she wanted to dance for a bit. Making sure they both got their dance fix.

 *             *             *

 Now they were the only ones left by the table.

Tan took a good sip of his whiskey again. Letting the burning sensation soothe him a bit.

Luca smiled towards him, and he had to work to keep his eyes off the blonde’s lips.

“So, see anyone worth checking out?” Luca asked loudly, making sure Tan heard it.

He nodded, eyes glued on the man he found so pretty, “Yeah, definitely.”

Luca flashed one of his smiles again, the kind that did all kinds of things to something deep inside of him. How easy wouldn’t it have been to just lean in and kiss him? He was pretty sure the blond was a top notch kisser.

Damn, his eyes were glued to Luca’s lips again.

“You.” Realizing what he had just said, he cleared his throat tried to recover, “I meant, how about you? See anyone worth your while?”

“Yeah, there’s for sure someone I’d like to kiss…” Luca shrugged, not even trying to gaze across the room, his eyes flickering between Tan’s own lips and his eyes.

“But, you know how it is…” Luca laughed it off, “Can’t get everything you want, right?”

“Why not?”

“It would change things.” Luca ran a hand through his hair, a pink blush warming his cheeks. If it was emotion or alcohol was hard to tell. “And, I don’t want to lose anything I’ve got, you know…”

“Like, friendship?”

Luca nodded and looked away briefly, then he looked back at Tan, “Yeah. Friendship.”

Tan chuckled a little, “You know, the way you’ve slammed back shots the last 30 minutes, I’m pretty sure you could just blame them, if the outcome is not that great?”

“Yeah?” Luca chuckled, “You think so?”

“Yeah, I’d back you up…” Tan grinned back.

“What if I said…” Luca shrugged, “What if I said it was you?”

“Me?”

Luca nodded, but looked down at the table.

Tan poked him on the shoulder, forcing Luca to look back up. “What if I said, kiss me?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tan nodded, feeling like his heart was about to jump out of his chest when Luca leaned closer. And closer. And…

It was everything he had imagined it to be. A rough, calloused, hand around the back of his neck. Pulling him closer. A couple of fingers gently guiding his chin until his head was tilted the perfect angle for their first kiss.

A good kiss. Not wet and sloppy, not firm and emotionless.

Everything he wanted it to be.

Except, when they broke apart, he wanted more.

Neither of them spoke for a minute. They just studied each other’s face, looking for clues.

Figuring that Luca had put a bunch of effort into making the first move, he figured it was his duty to make the second one. “I could do this all night. If you let me…”

The flash of pearly whites was all the confirmation he needed. And they dove back in.

He still wanted more when they took a second pause, he needed more. And he felt it was mutual.

“Hey, why don’t you…” he swallowed hard, “Why don’t you come back home with me tonight? We can… Have a bit of fun… Maybe figure this out tomorrow…”

“Yeah?”

Tan nodded, “If you want to…”

Luca nodded, “I want to…”

Tan couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re good at this…”

“What?”

“Kissing.” Luca smirked, “A plus.”

“Pretty sure you’re better.” Tan chuckled, before leaning in once more.

 *             *             *

 “Would you look at that…” Hondo chuckled, bumping into Chris’s shoulder.

“I think we might’ve found a reason why your wingman game has been…”

“A failure?” Hondo smirked, “Yeah. I think so…”

Chris nodded, ”Might just be a one evening thing though….”

“Yeah…” he nodded, “Keep this a secret until they announce it?”

Chris nodded, “I think that’s what’s best.”

“Yeah.”

More to come...

[sweetheartjeongguk]

twitchy witchy girl

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: kiki’s delivery service au, fluff, minor angst

rating: pg

warning(s): oc is mean to jimin but makes up for it in the end, slight public humiliation

word count: 3.3k+

summary: maybe human boys aren’t so bad after all. 

a/n: here’s a late birthday gift to the loml park jimin 

masterlist | studio ghibli masterlist

“He’s here to see you again.”

Thud. Thud. Thud.

“Honey, stop slamming your head against the counter. You’re going to give yourself a concussion.”

“Sounds like a fun way to go.”

“He’s been waiting outside for quite some time.” The older woman hums, one hand on her pregnant belly and the other resting on top of your shoulder.

When you first arrived in the new beachside town, you had high hopes of being incredibly popular and staying in a fabulous mansion where you practically drown in luxury. Instead, you’re stuck living in a one-room apartment with your cat familiar, Mochi, and working for Lee Eunji and her husband as their very first delivery witch.    

While most of the townspeople saw witches as nothing but troublemakers, Eunji saw a new opportunity.

“Tell him I’m dead.” You rub at your forehead once the throbbing became too much.

“He said he’d buy a Ouija board.”

“Tell him I moved away.”

“He can literally see you.” Eunji scoffs, waving a hand towards the front of the store.

With a disgruntled huff, you lift your head to follow Eunji’s line of sight.

Park Jimin stands with his hands tucked in his front pockets and an exasperated look on his face. He paces in front of the doorway, muttering something to himself while glancing into the store from the corner of his eye. When he notices your staring, he skids to a stop.

To this day, you have no clue why he’s interested in you. Sure, you’re a witch who can do all types of magic and fly on a broomstick which is enough to entertain the grumpiest of fiends. But one thing’s for sure – you and Park Jimin are two different people heading down two different paths. He’s the stereotypical rich boy who’s loved and admired by all simply for breathing air. Meanwhile, you’re the scary girl who can’t hold a decent conversation with another person without them sputtering something about magic and witchcraft.

“See?” Eunji chuckles at your obvious discomfort. “Can’t back out of this one, bud. Just go see what he wants.”

“Do you think you can bail me out of jail after I charm him into a cockroach and squish him with my foot?” You lean your cheek against the crook of your elbow in thought.  

“How about…” Eunji brushes back the strands of hair that fall across your face. “…you not resort to murder and just talk to him like a normal human being?”

“You’re just saying that because you think he’s pretty. He’s cast a spell on you too.” You roll your eyes as Eunji motions for Jimin to come inside.

“You’re the only witch here, sweetheart.” Eunji winks before going to check on the freshly baked loaves of bread resting in the kitchen.  

Jimin glows brighter than usual, his swept-back blond hair hidden underneath a red beret that makes him look like a stereotypical French boy. You snort to yourself when you take in the rest of his outfit – black-and-white striped shirt tucked into slim-fitting slacks with sleek black dress shoes.

Talk about Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes.

“Why, hello there, Mr. Park! What can we do for you today?” Eunji peeps her head through the kitchen doorway.  

“Hi, Mrs. Lee.” Jimin replies smoothly, hands crossed behind his back in an innocent manner. “I was wondering if I could grab Y/N for a second.”

You could barely hold back your disgust when you notice Eunji melting under Jimin’s sweet fa��ade. He has virtually everyone in town wrapped around his stupid chubby pinky finger, and you refuse to let yourself fall for one of his tricks. 

“Y/N’s not here right now.” You grit your teeth. “Please leave a message after the fuc—"

“Y/N! Be nice.”

You push off of the stool you were sitting in behind the counter with a grunt. Your muscles are still sore from your delivery yesterday. Thankfully, there aren’t any major deliveries that afternoon so you’re free to stuff your face with as many as chocolate pastries as your heart desires.

Jimin draws in a small breath as you approach, mentally preparing his little speech he wrote on his way to the bakery that afternoon. He starts to open his mouth but only lets out a pathetic squeak as you roughly brush past him on your way to the pastry tray on the other side of the room.  

“Y/N!” Eunji scolds before turning to Jimin with an apologetic pout. “I’m so sorry about her, she’s still trying to get used to everything.”

“Oh no, I understand!” Jimin chuckles awkwardly, a hand reaching behind to rub the back of his neck. “Anyways…Y/N, there’s s-something I wanted to ask you.”

You hum absentmindedly as you stuff a large creampuff into your mouth. You wonder if you could cast a spell to speed up his spiel so that you’ll still have time to catch the new episode of your favorite television show that’s scheduled to air in a half hour.

“My aviation club at school is hosting a party this Saturday.” Jimin announces, his voice wavering from subtle nerves. “I was wondering if you would like to come.”

You silently scold your heart for thumping a little harder than usual. Attending a party with Jimin as his…date. The word should have sent a disgusted shiver down your spine, but all you get is a flood of butterflies in your stomach.

For some reason, the thought of Jimin in a tuxedo didn’t seem so bad.

“Oh, that sounds lovely!” Eunji claps her hands excitedly. “It’ll be a great chance for you to make some friends, Y/N!”

“Oh yeah, definitely!” Jimin blurts out. “The rest of the guys are just dying to meet a witch. They’re really curious to learn more about how your broom works!”

Just like that, the mood dies. As a matter of fact, it doesn’t just die. It comes barreling towards the earth in a frenzy of fire and heat, striking the ground with tremendous force and destroying everything in its path.

He didn’t want you to go with him – he just wants to show you off like some circus act to his friends.

In that moment, you’re reminded of why you didn’t trust him. He might have Eunji and everyone else fooled, but you know better. Park Jimin’s just like everyone else, and you curse yourself for nearly falling into his trap.

Eunji watches inquisitively as you make your way towards the boy holding the invitation in both hands. There’s a tight grin that stretches across your face in a Cheshire Cat-like manner. The sight is quite unsettling to Eunji, but Jimin still beams at you as if he’s found the answers to his prayers.

“An invitation just for me?” You grab the invitation, ignoring the pleasant sensation of his soft skin brushing against yours.

“Yup! I saved one just for you.” Jimin nods excitedly.

“Oh really?”

“Yes! We’re really interested in learn—”

Rrrrip.

Jimin’s smile breaks as you tear the card in half. You barely hear Eunji gasping in the background as you shred the invitation into several jagged pieces. With a snap of your fingers, the slivers of paper burst into flames and float pathetically to the linoleum floor in a burnt crisp.

In an instant, your crazed smile transforms into a disgusted scowl. “Thanks for the invite, but I’d prefer company with people who don’t use me as their personal flying monkey.”

“Y/N!” Eunji hisses sharply.

You ignore her. “I know you think that you’re being cute and funny, but honestly, you’re just annoying and pathetic.”

Jimin stands frozen in the middle of the bakery, his bleary eyes fixated on the burnt strips scattered across the floor. Eunji rushes over from the kitchen to collect the mess with a broom and dustpan, glancing up when she notices your figure escape through the backdoor towards your living quarters.

“Jimin, I am so sorry about her.” Eunji sighs in exasperation. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

Jimin nods stiffly. “It’s n-no problem. I understand…”

Eunji opens her mouth at another attempt of a worthless apology, but Jimin’s already turning on his heel and heading out of the door, the tiniest sniffle betraying his quiet composure. Eunji watches in pity as Jimin disappears down the street with his shoulders slumped forward and his hands tucked into his front pockets once more.

He’s lucky that his route continues straight down the road. That way, Eunji doesn’t notice the tears dribbling down his cheeks reddened from embarrassment.  

Ever since you burned his invitation in his face, Eunji hasn’t spoken to you. After you escaped the bakery and hid in your room to watch tv with Mochi, she barged in with the pile of ashes in her hands. She promptly tosses the charred papers on top of your nightstand, turning on her heel with a repulsed sneer.  

“I’m disappointed in you. Honestly.”

Whether you like it or not, your chest twinges with guilt. Apart from being like a second mother to you, Eunji’s your best friend. When you faced the threat of living out on the streets with no food or money, she was the one who took you under her wing and offered you not only a job but a place to sleep and eat.  

Now, it’s as if the sight of you makes her sick to her stomach. This time, you couldn’t even blame Park Jimin for it.

“If he just left me alone like I told him millions of times before, we wouldn’t be having this issue.”

“That may be,” Mochi purrs. “But you did embarrass him by burning his invitation in his face. The very same invitation he had kept specifically for you and only you.”

“So?” You grumble. “He only invited me because he wanted me to entertain his dumb friends.”

The gentle evening breeze soars in through your open window, chilling you to the bone. You slightly curse at yourself for not dressing in warmer pajamas, but your earnings for the month wouldn’t give you much. You’d borrow from Eunji, but 1) most of her wardrobe right now are maternity clothes and 2) she currently refuses to speak with you.

You let out a long whine, sounding exactly like your five-year-old self who cried when a wave toppled her over during a family vacation to the beach. “Do I have to?”

Mochi stares at you without a word.  

“What if I fake my death?”

“Y/N…”

“Okay, fine…but if he doesn’t accept my apology, then can I fake my death?”

You feel silly.

Dressed in a white dress that molds tightly against your waist and puffs out at the skirt, you look and feel like a creampuff. After begging for her forgiveness for two hours straight, Eunji goes to work on preparing your party outfit. You pout about the centimeter-thick layer of foundation and powder, but Eunji shrugs off your complaints with an uncaring smirk. Perhaps it’s your punishment for not listening to her in the first place.

“It’s itchy.” You whine as the lace fabric continues to scratch against your skin.

Eunji holds in her laughter as you shift uncomfortably in your seat. “If only you focused on your special magic training and not on hurting the feelings of people who like you, you could have learned how to cast an anti-itching spell.”

“Spells are hard…” You pout. “And he doesn’t like me, he just wants to pretend to get to know me so that he can tell people that he knows a witch. It’s exploitation at its finest.”

Eunji shakes her head in disbelief. “I’d think you witches would have some type of clairvoyance about you, but you’re completely dense.”

“I’m not a psychic.” You roll your eyes. “I’m starting to think that no one in this town cares enough to educate themselves on witch culture.”

“Well, if you weren’t such a grumpy old troll, then maybe you could educate those people about witches.” Eunji pokes your nose with the end of a concealer brush as she finishes up the last touch-ups to your makeup.

“I shouldn’t have to.” You try to cross your arms, but you find it almost impossible considering how tight the chest of the dress was. “For once, I want someone to learn for themselves for once instead of using me for laughs and giggles.”

Eunji sighs in defeat. While the makeup and fancy dress did wonders to brighten your usual gloomy appearance, the frown marring your brow seems to remain there permanently.  

“Honey…” Eunji says quietly. “I might not be a witch, but I know a thing or two about love. That boy definitely likes you for you, not because he wants to cross ‘Meet a witch’ off his bucket list.”

You continue to fiddle with the lace of the skirt, nearly ripping out a stray thread before laying your palms flat in your lap.

“I’ve never seen a boy so adamant about visiting a girl everyday even if he can just get one sentence in.” Eunji laughs softly. “Reminds me of my husband when we were first dating. He wouldn’t let me go for one second.”

You try to laugh, but you end up looking like you swallowed something inedible.  

“I’m not saying that you need to date him or anything.” Eunji shakes her head. “I’m just saying that you should give Jimin a chance. You’d do good with some friends in this town, even if it’s just him.”

With that, Eunji holds out a clenched fist. You’re quick to grab whatever’s in her hands, but you instantly blanch when the substance fills your palms. While most of the invitation’s burnt to a crisp, one part of the paper remains semi-readable.

“Ms. Witch…”

A couple days ago, you’d be rolling your eyes and threatening to shove your broomstick where the sun won’t shine if Jimin had called you by that nickname. Now, all you could feel is a delightful warmth that spreads from your face down to your toes.  

You’re screwed. You’re definitely screwed.

“You might want to head off now!” Eunji yells. You lift your head in surprise when you notice that she’s already escaped into the kitchen. “It looks like it’s going to rain! Better not be late!”

Desperately shoving the remnants of the invitation into your bra, you barely spare a coherent farewell as you dash into the street and kicking off the ground with your broomstick between your legs. As you head southwest towards the party, you force several deep breaths as you settle the anxiety that plagues your veins and kickstarts your heart into overdrive.

“This better work.” You whisper to yourself, ignoring the tiny droplets of water that begin to fall from the cluster of clouds above.

Your jaw drops at the vast size of the house. Classical music plays on repeat as the guests mingle around the dining room that looks as though it could fit an entire country and a half inside. You observe from the outside, completely unbothered as the rain soaks through your clothes and streaks your makeup. While you take a moment to admire the decorations strung across the walls and on the ceiling, your eyes wander in search of one individual in particular.

“Excuse me.” Someone coughs.

Behind you, a boy watches you with a dirty look, almost as if he wishes to say, “You obviously look like you don’t belong here”. While he isn’t far from the truth, you couldn’t help but mirror his unimpressed glare.

“I’m sorry, but this party is reserved for members only.” He retorts snootily. “I’m afraid I’m going to ask you to leave.”

“Jokes on you, asshole, I have an invitation…” You answer quickly.

“Is that so?” He asks with a pretentious scoff. “Where is it?”

You choke on your words. You almost forgot that the evidence is literally shoved inside your cleavage. “U-Um…well the thing is…”

“Y/N?”

You, along with Mr. Stick-Stuck-High-Up-In-My-Ass, turn towards the new visitor. Your heart prickles with something foreign at the sight of Park Jimin in a suit and tie and a cute flower tucked inside his pocket.

“Hi…” You reply meekly, eyes fixated on the growing puddle on the edge of the sidewalk.

You completely miss the elated glint in Jimin’s eyes.

“She’s your guest, Park?” The boy asks warily, still viewing you as some kind of creature who escaped from the Black Lagoon.  

You’ll be sure to add a little something extra to his hors d’oeuvres when you get the chance.

“Yeah, she’s my plus-one.” Jimin answers confidently. “I didn’t get to give her the invitation, but her name’s on the list if you want to check.”

The boy watches Jimin carefully before rolling his eyes. “I’ll be sure to check the list. Be sure that next time, everyone has an invite before they just show up unannounced and unwanted.”

Oh, how you wish you could use your magic for bad just once. Sure, you might face lifelong consequences that could inevitably affect your future…but would one time really make a difference?

“Sorry about him.” Jimin scratches the back of his neck. “Jihyun can be pretty uptight sometimes…”

“I can handle uptight just fine.” You shrug awkwardly. “T-Thanks though.”

Jimin clears his throat. “Yeah, of course! Anytime…”

There’s a brief moment of silence that you wish you could break without looking like a complete fool. Thankfully, Jimin takes the initiative from you.  

“Y-You look really pretty.”

Thankfully, the foundation that Eunji caked onto your cheeks covers any sign of redness. Unfortunately, it did make you look like you took a dip into a giant frosting container.

“Thanks, you don’t look so bad yourself.” You force yourself to playfully nudge at his shoulder. “You clean up rather nicely.”

“T-Thanks, my mom picked it out.” Jimin immediately clamps his mouth shut. You smile at the obvious embarrassment that floods his features and purses his lips into a demure pout.

It’s cute. In fact, it’s the type of cute that makes you want to drop everything and bring him back home to introduce to your entire family.

If only Eunji were here, she’d be getting a kick out of your emotional turmoil.

“Uh, a-anyways,” Jimin stammers nervously. “Why did you come tonight?”

You raise an eyebrow, making Jimin quickly backpedal on his words.

“N-Not that you’re not allowed to come! You’re totally allowed to come, it’s totally fine by me. I j-just thought you didn’t want to…you know, after you…burned the invitation to a crisp.”

“Oh yeah! That reminds me…”

Jimin pales as you dig inside to collect the blackened scraps, your tongue poking through the side of your mouth in concentration. He quickly diverts his attention towards the large oak tree hanging overhead, trying hard not to think about how your breasts are half a foot away from his face.

“There we are!”

Hesitantly craning his neck towards you once more, Jimin meets your upturned hands that cradle the destroyed scraps of the invitation. He cocks an eyebrow at this – what’s he supposed to do with that?

Jimin swallows his retort when suddenly, the papers swirl around almost like in a mini tornado, fusing back together. With a poof, the paper transforms from a charcoal black to its original eggshell white, complete with the original detailing and “Dear Ms. Witch…” at the very top of the card. As a special treat, you add an extra touch that Jimin can’t help but crack a smile at.

There’s a crude stick figure drawing of the two of you sitting side-by-side with a tiny pink heart floating above your heads. It may have been a trick of the light, but Jimin could swear that your little stick figure presses a kiss to stick figure Jimin’s cheek.

“Ta-da…” You smile shyly as you slip the paper into Jimin’s hand. “It’s corny, I know, but…”

“W-What changed your mind?” Jimin asks bashfully as he presses the card to his chest.

You shrug teasingly. “You’re not as bad as I thought you were. Also, it helps that you’re a little cute.”

“And the truth?”

“Eunji threatened to steal my broomstick and sell it in next week’s yard sale if I didn’t show up.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

[sussex-nature-lover]

Thursday 5th November 2020

Remember, Remember...

♦ if you click on a bold link it will navigate away from this blog to an outside site. Outside sites are not affiliated to this blog

In my book the most important things to remember on (and around) the 5th November are wildlife, domestic pets and safety first.

Our hedgehog population is in severe decline and they’re well known for crawling into what they think is going to be a safe space for a long nap. Hedgehogs who are the right weight have also probably gone into hibernation with the recent very cold snap.  It’s possible something might be hibernating within your bonfire pile if you’ve been stacking for a while ahead of lighting it.

Please, please do check thoroughly.

Fireworks are a very stressful event for animals, bear this in mind always and act responsibly. Advice from last year here.

My mobile phone vintage snap at dusk - the Stand Off

OK, lecture over.

Last night we drove by Ms NW the Elder’s, only the fourth time we’ve seen her this year: we had one nice lunch together back in January and two no touching socially distanced chats. This one was about 20 minutes stood in the street at a safe distance from her doorstep. In the short time we were there we saw a bat fly around several times and the local fox trot across the close. For anyone who doesn’t know, she’s in South East London but in a quiet road where she’s becoming more and more interested in the local bird and wildlife population. On the way we knew we were getting close when we heard Parakeets chattering away. We saw two large skeins of Geese flying as well and actually heard more on the way home. Funnily enough they heard Geese in the dark on Autumnwatch last night too.

On the drive back we got snarled in the ridiculous traffic that got mentions in the national press, so it took around two and a half hours to come less than 50 miles. According to some reports that was getting off lightly.

Culinary Note: we ended up having beans on toast for supper as it was something quick and we were both ravenous. Added a couple of drops of Tabasco to the beans which made them just the right amount of spicy and used pumpkin seed bread. Not quite haute cuisine but very tasty and welcome.

 At least there were some pretty fireworks to watch along the route - not huge amounts but some of them were quite spectacular lighting up the skies. As an aside, despite the huge moon, it did seem particularly dark last night. It was crisp and clear too, very cold. I saw Mars shining very clearly when we got home.

When I was little we had a tiny box of  Standard fireworks to light at home. A few candle type, some Catherine Wheels, a packet of sparklers (my personal highlight) and a rocket or two. It was usually something of a damp squib to be honest and there were often failures to light - very dangerous. I preferred the baked potato, sausages and beans on a chilly night.

By the time we had our own children things had moved on tremendously and we wouldn’t dream of getting fireworks for home, it was always the community bonfire and big organised display. I used to love those nights. We’d get all dressed up with our woolly hats, gloves and scarves and everyone from school seemed to go. All the neighbours set off for the local field around the same time, so you’d meet up walking along and once arrived there’d be candy floss and toffee apples and so on. There were hot dogs and burgers too I think, but we’d have our traditional supper beforehand, it’d help insulate us against the November night air. The bonfire was huge and stringent safety precautions were in place before the fireworks were let off. At the end there was a gentle procession home again amongst the excited children scuffling through the fallen leaves and sleepy tots in buggies. I’ve just read this out to my OH and he agrees how good it was. It was very well run and always pleasant company. What lovely memories.

“Remember, remember the Fifth of November” or “Please to Remember” are variations of a rhyme that commemorates the day in 1605 when a group of Roman Catholics including Guy Fawkes, were caught in the act of trying to blow up the Houses of Parliament.

When news of the plot got out, Londoners were so relieved that the conspirators had been caught that they lit bonfires throughout the city as a celebration. Over the centuries the celebrations have become more elaborate and now fabulous firework displays are a feature throughout England on the night of November 5th. A week or so prior to that, children make effigies of Guy Fawkes which they take door to door asking for ‘A penny for the Guy’.’ On Bonfire Night these Guys are traditionally burnt on top of a bonfire.

Funnily I’ve never known more than the first two lines of the old nursery rhyme

Remember, remember the Fifth of November, The Gunpowder Treason and Plot, I know of no reason Why the Gunpowder Treason Should ever be forgot. Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, t’was his intent To blow up the King and Parli’ment. Three-score barrels of powder below To prove old England’s overthrow; By God’s providence he was catch’d With a dark lantern and burning match. Holla boys, Holla boys, let the bells ring. Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King! And what should we do with him? Burn him!

Two things link up here for me. Firstly by sheer chance the National Trust property Chastleton, which I’ve only mentioned this week, was purchased from Robert Catesby, the leading figure behind the Gunpowder Plot.

That’s a fascinating read in the link, from a local newspaper. I can’t get my head around the intrigue, the danger and the money involved. It’s also a little bit spooky that the plot was originally intended for action the previous year, but was delayed because The Plague caused Parliament to be closed. 

Plague was one of the hazards of life in Britain from its dramatic appearance in 1348 with the Black Death. The Bills of Mortality began to be published regularly in 1603, in which year 33,347 deaths were recorded from plague. Between then and 1665, only four years had no recorded cases.

Secondly, is the matter of organised bonfire celebrations and Bonfire Societies. We’d never come across one until we moved to Sussex, where they are ‘a thing’ around the South East. I don’t know if they’re a thing further afield? Perhaps someone can enlighten me Boom Boom!!! <Pun Claxon> if they are.* see below for details

Back to Bonfire Societies, we’re not all that far from Battle, it’s where our ‘local’ police station is, although you wouldn’t want to walk it! and yes, it is that ‘Battel’ of 1066 and Hastings fame. In fact the local tourist organisation calls the area 1066 Country.

Fun Fact for your Zoom quizzes or how ever you’re going to be amusing yourselves: The Battle of Hastings wasn’t fought at Hastings. It was fought at ... BATTLE. Maybe they thought no one would take it all that seriously if they’d named it the Battle of Battle(Battel) 

The Battle of Hastings is curiously named, because it actually took place several miles away from Hastings, in the place now called Battle. An early chronicle simply states that it was a battle fought "at the hoary apple tree", a name which thankfully didn't catch on.

Anyway, if you do want to know the history of the oldest Bonfire Society and the making of effigies and so on, chose these links

Battel Bonfire Boyes

More info about the Guy

I don’t usually get political on social media, certain topics I much prefer to steer clear of, so take this as topical. Very topical. Quite often now public figures (of all kinds, not just political ones) are chosen as the year’s featured ‘Guy’ Boris Johnson has been a famous Guy too.

Just look at the scale of the build

So there we have it, a bit about nature, a wealth of trivia and some reminiscing and all because from today England is in official lockdown again,  A month long starter for ten - award yourself some cinder toffee or sticky parkin as a Bonfire Night prize if you know that one. If you do make some cinder toffee try dipping it in melted chocolate for your own homemade version of a Crunchie. Tomorrow, Thank Crunchie it’s Friday. Does anyone else recall that advert on the TV?

As we can’t be sure when we’ll all be free to celebrate again, enjoy this, the London Fireworks welcoming 2020. A new year is always full of hope. We just didn’t have a clue what a memorable year this was going to be did we. If we had, we might have decided to blow it up from the start!

Got to admit I thought twice about the Boom Boom joke just on the off-chance those words trigger monitoring by security services! Too paranoid? Well, you can’t be too careful, but no, for the record, I’m definitely not plotting to blow up anything. It’s just another childhood memory.

Plenty of linked reading today then to while away some time in lockdown or wherever you are. Stay safe chaps and fingers crossed for better days.

Poppy for Remembrance (not my photo)