“You moved into the apartment next to mine and I can hear E V E R Y T H I N G you do”
“I was having a great day, then you football tackled me into a lake. I don’t CARE that I was almost assassinated, You AIMED for that lake.”
“I’ve noticed how much you love your garden and all your plants, and I don’t know how to flirt like other people so I may have accidentally asked you to teach me how to garden, but it’s the best part of my week.”
any gardener will tell you that tending plants can teach you many, many lessons that you can translate to your everyday life. to be observant, to try to anticipate problems before they occur, how to deal with problems and come up with creative solutions… gardening teaches you about patience, timing, action, etc…
however, when i look at my cacti and succulents i keep in my home, i remember the valuable lessons that they have taught me unlike any plant i have kept in my summer garden.
that, sometimes, to be nurturing, to be a real caretaker, means letting things be. the lesson that omission is an action. inaction is an action. withholding water, letting the plant sit in its dry soil, letting it search for the few drops of moisture it wants, is better than regular “care” and watering, like other plants need. the succulent leaves seem full to bursting with water, dark green and happy with life, but that is only when i care for them by “not” caring for them.
makes me pause and think about how adaptable we have to be in our approaches to love and interpersonal relationships. not everyone needs the same kind of “care” to bloom and be healthy… we are all programmed to need different kinds of care… in varying amounts…
you were wild and free and haughty with your hair long and loose
and your torn dress. your muddy boots, your bruised kneecaps.
you were young and bold and your smile was a wicked crooked thing
and your teeth were sharp and savage behind your wind-bitten, storm-kissed lips,
you did not care for love apart from the way your heart leapt like the spring lambs on the moors and you were beautiful
we raced through the heather and bridged the streams that rise up from the rocks like a spilled secret
and built fires high on the hills, making magic and mischief like the pagans of old and you shone as bright as the beacon
then you fell, with your serpent in the garden teaching you how to play the pianoforte perfectly
and that you should not play with boys with rough hands and rougher language and bruises shadowing their brow
and that to be wild and free is to be wrong and foolish and distasteful - said with a wince and a knowing sneaking smile
but I know how your heart works. I know how your every heartbeat feels when you’re rain-soaked and laughing and late for dinner
and you cannot be tethered. you will not let him make you into a model of well-bred beauty; your soul is far too much like mine.
love is obsession is jealousy is passion burning through my bones.
this, then, is my message, written on fine London-bought cream paper:
you always were too wild to be wedded.
and oh, what a wedding gift I have for you.
let the horses have their heads or they will throw you off; Mr. Heathcliff to Mrs. Catherine Linton, never sent but found smouldering
Jamie is the kind of person who needs regular doses of
undivided attention or else he starts getting Weird.
Like, one time Suzanne had to leave town for a conference
for three days and Coach got really overwhelmed with teaching and coaching. But
then around nighttime Coach realized the house was suspiciously quiet. Too
quiet. He even put Wicked in the CD player and turned it up, but his younger
son didn’t pop out of the woodwork like normal.
He found him on a sidewalk near the center of town, covered
in red body paint and holding up a placard. Coach was just relieved he didn’t
have to go down to the police station this time.
So from then on, the entire Bittle clan makes sure Jamie
gets regular doses of attention. Bitty calls him from Samwell at least once a
week to check in. Suzanne teaches him how to garden. Coach takes him out back
and they throw the football around for a bit. It’s good. Jamie stays out of the
public lock up.
Sometimes, someone will say “Do you think Jamies is a little…funny?”
And if Jamie hears he’ll whip around and say, “I’m not funny. I’m hilarious.”
It becomes a code for the gay underground at his school.
More than once Jamie hears his friend Cow sigh to herself when Linette walks
by. “I’m too hilarious and beautiful for this class.”
Jamie, Cow and Horace all go to prom together, and someone’s
parent laughs and says, “Look at Jamie! A girl on each arm! What a ladies man!”
And then when the three of them pile into the car Jamie will sigh woefully to
himself. “I’m too hilarious for this town.”
But imagine Bitty goes to Samwell for 5 years instead of 4.
Maybe he double majors or something, but whatever happens Jamie ends up
attending Samwell too.
So then you have TWO Bittles running around Samwell, and
when people talk about them they’re like, “Oh yeah. The Brothers Bittle. One is
super athletic—he’s captain of the hockey team. The other one loves musical
theater waaaay too much.” And then someone meets them at a kegster and they
look at Bitty like, “So how’s the theater department doing?” And Bitty is like,
“How should I know???” Someone meets Jamie and they’re like, “How’s hockey?”
and Jamie is like, “How can you think about hockey when Grantaire and Enjolras
are so in love?”
Everyone thinks Jamie is going to join the hockey team for
some reason, and it really pisses Jamie off. It gets to the point where he
quits calling sports by their sports names. “Oh yeah. My big brother plays
knife-shoe-Oreo-fight. My dad coaches egg-ball-hand-throw. My mom met him in
high school, when she was in acrobatic-encouragement-yelling. Oh, I learned to
dance like this when I took lessons in noisy-shoe-clicky-clack.”
Dex doesn’t deserve this kind of treatment.
By midterms Jamie is on a first name basis with the campus
cops. He keeps doing performative art on the quad and the police keep telling
him to put on pants, gdi. Bitty dies of fraternal shame at least once a week.
Affinity Housing is this stretch of houses and there’s a
theater house, a marching band house, two artsy houses, a house for psyc
majors, the zombie apocalypse house, etc. Think frat row but not for formal
fraternities. Jackson is a senior in the theater department and he gives his
dibs to Jamie.
The theater house is right next to the religious studies
house, and they are mortal enemies because the theater house is always loud. Always.
Listen. If you think hockey players are superstitious, just
know that hockey players look absolutely tame next to drama students. Opening
night rituals include: the Passing Around of the Gummy Sharks, shouting “Thespian
Lesbians” at each other at full volume, “Toy boat, toy boat, toy boat, toy
boyt-FUCK!”, rubbing the top of Guy Monty’s bald head, and kissing the director
on the cheek.
Bitty, being a big brother, knows this. He hugs Jamie tight
the night before a performance. “Break a leg,” he says. “Oh, and Jamie?” He
leans forward and whispers, “Macbeth.”
Campus police can hear Jamie Bittle screaming from across
the quad. “Should we check it out?” a rookie asks. His partner sips his coffee
and grunts. He’ll learn. They all learn.
After Bitty graduates and Jack is in the NHL for a season or
two, they come out as a couple. Which wouldn’t normally affect Jamie but the
reporters are super thirsty for deets and Bitty and Jack aren’t giving them
anything. Jamie starts finding reporters in his yard, on his way to classes,
lurking by the auditorium. It’s super annoying.
They catch him after an all nighter and Jamie is twitching
with caffeine. He has his script and his astronomy homework out because he can’t
focus on just one now and a reporter puts an audio recorder in his face and
asks for a soundbite. His eye twitches. “How can you think about Eric and Jack
at a time like this?” he hisses. “When dark matter and universal expansion ARE
SO IN LOVE?!”
Jamie calls Dex “Dad” unironically. “My hockey dad,” he says
when Nursey gives him a weird look.
Jamie for literally anything: “Hah, that sounds so gay. I’m
Jamie kicks open the door of the Haus. “DAD I NEED YOUR
Dex is like, “Are you going to be weird?”
“I AM BUILDING A SET!!!”
Which is how Dex ends up going to all the set building days
for the Samwell Theater Department. He does it for Jamie, and Bitty sends him
baked goods as an extra thank you. And the actors and techs keep giving Dex
their phone numbers even when he explains he is in a happy, stable, monogamous
Dex needs a drink.
Bitty coming to visit is such a weird trip, both for SMH and
the theater department. They learn too much about the Bittle household.
“Lol remember that time I told you serial killers lived in
the Fruity Pebbles box?” “Omg Dicky you are such an asshole.”
“Lol remember that time I told you that you were adopted.” “Omg!
That wasn’t funny!” “Jamie, you look almost exactly like Coach.” “Dicky, they
didn’t have any baby pics of me! How was I supposed to know!”
“Lol remember that time I told you bats like to nest in
people’s hair and then I dropped a squeaky toy on your head?” “Fuck you, Dicky.”
But then Jamie gets his revenge. He tells reporters about
Jack and Bitty. Well, he lies.
“Jack is afraid of snow globes.”
“Eric Bittle is afraid of the dark. Also he wets the bed.
Also he’s never kissed a girl!!! Also—wait, gimme back the recorder.”
“Jack Zimmermann has a tattoo of the Canadian flag on his
lower back. So does Eric. They’re friendship tattoos.”
“When Eric was little he wanted to be a chicken. As, like, a
“Eric Bittle was adopted.” (“Sir, you and Mr. Bittle have
the same face.”) “Are you saying all white people look the same?”
Jack, an only child, is really confused. “Why does your
brother hate you? Bitty, stop—stop laughing. Bitty, I’m serious. You’re
brothers, you shouldn’t fight.”
Jamie gets himself a Twitter account just so he can roast
his brother publicly. Of course, it goes both ways. The chirping is relentless.
Dad Bob gets in on it. Hockey fans are confused. Jamie is living.
There is a video on Bitty’s vlog, where he and Jamie are in
the kitchen trying to bake something. Well, Bitty is trying to bake something.
Jamie is being a huge pain in the ass. “I WANNA LICK THE BOWL!!!” “Jamie.
Sweetheart. There’s literally only eggs and sugar in it.” “Ugh! Fine. Can I
lick the spoon?” “…No.”
It devolves from there, to the point where Bitty and Jamie
are throwing whole eggs at each other. There are drifts of sugar on the
counters. The air is full of flour dust. Jack Zimmermann, professional NHL
player, has is back against the wall, wide-eyed. “Why are you guys so violent?”
The video cuts to a pristine kitchen, and Bitty wearing a
crisp, clean apron over crisp, clean clothes. He sets a perfect sheet cake on
the counter in front of the camera. “And that’s how y’all make a sheet cake.”
Kent Parson follows Jamie on Twitter because they’re both
sluts for absurdism. By the time Jamie graduates, the campus police know both
him and Kent by their first names. Their performance pieces go viral. Jamie
gets a spread in the Swallow. Bitty dies of fraternal shame again and he leaves
Kent at least four angry voicemails.
Lardo finds Jamie at the Drama House. “You have zero respect
for art.” “Uhhhh…” “I like that about you.”
Jamie calls everyone Dad. Bad Bob? Dad. Dex? Dad. The
student director of the play he’s in? Dad. Lardo? Dad. The female lead and his
love interest in the play? Dad. Lin-Manuel Miranda? Dad. Coach is frowning with
the phone pressed against his ear. “How come I’m never Dad?”
Dex makes a face. “I seriously don’t have answers, Mr.
Bittle. Why do you have my phone number?”
So Kairi was playing in front of the Castle’s front doors a little bit when Aqua met her right? What if she usually played with Dilan and Aeleus and would pick flowers for them all the time? Is that cute or what
Ok we’ve seen families with a long line of Gryffindors and others with all Slytherins but like what about households with Ravenclaw backgrounds dating back to the 1800s?
Liberal art cousins and stingy history teacher uncles butting heads at the family reunions. Families that always have something to do and somewhere to see.
Epic family vacations lbr
Ravenclaw families with a prestigious background as hard to live up to as Slytherin ones
Or Hufflepuff families with blood that runs deep and far back.
Hufflepuff families that are closer than Italians at dinner time.
Hufflepuff grannies teaching their grandkids to garden and bake sweets.
Hufflepuff parents teaching their kids to treat others as kindly as they can, even those they don’t feel deserve it.
Hufflepuff siblings making eachother flower crowns and daisy chains but also always being there to stand up for their family when they need it
I need more stories about families with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff backgrounds bc as much as I love Slytherin and Gryffindor they’re the only ones anybody seems to talk about and that needs to end tbh
this is a little too #real for my gardening blog but i cant wait to own my own house on a half acre of land not too far from a major city somewhere north of here where ill plant enough food to feed myself (for the most part) and keep a few chickens and maybe a goat if i get adventurous
“Malfoy. You can’t just start a question and then stop in the middle of it. Tell me.” She frowned.
Hermione Granger stood in front of her door as Draco Malfoy stood in front of her mumbling and silently looked away from her stare.
“I can’t. It’s embarrassing.” He said, his cheeks turning to a slightly pink shade.
“I promise, I won’t laugh.” She folded her arm. “This time.” She added.
He sighed. “Fine. But don’t tell anyone. Can you teach me about gardening?”
“What?” She asked, eyes wide open in shock.
“That thing with flowers, that my mother love. Isn’t it called gardening?” He asked.
“Yeah, it is. I just… I thought I didn’t heard you right. I can’t believe that the Draco Malfoy wants to know the secrets of the flowers.” She said trying to hide the laugh that was threatening to appear.
“You promised, Granger. ” Malfoy said to me with a serious face.
They’ve been friends for years after he had saved her from his aunts clutches, she then took out her hand for him to shake, Draco questions it at firat but then gave in after Hermione told him that they’re starting over again.
“I’m Hermione, Hermione Granger. And you are?”
He clasped his hand to hers and replied.
“You’re right. Tomorrow is the weekend. We won’t have work so you can come to me to learn. The first class is free but then you’ll have to pay.” She joked.
“Oh…I think I can find a method of payment that would be enjoyable for both of us.” He wiggled his brows, losing his embarrassment and he started smirking, making Hermione laugh.
“First rule: you don’t flirt with the teacher.”
“But where’s the fun in that?” He whined.
The next day Hermione stood on the veranda in front of her house waiting for Draco. She waved when she saw him approaching.
“Ready for the first lesson?” She joked as he opened her small fence door.
“I was born ready.” He laughed.
“Sit next to me and pay attention to the introduction part. It doesn’t matter where you plant the flower, in a pot or in a garden, you have to be very careful with the soil.
Flowers need good soil in order to grow. If you look at the soil in my garden, you can see the places where the flowers are planted aren’t heavy with clay, sand, or rocks.” She explained.
“Got it.” He said with his brows scrunched together.
“Let’s start with an easy flower, then we’ll slowly rise to the difficulty level. What do you say?” She questions.
“How difficult?” He frowned slightly.
“Malfoy. You play Quidditch. You can face a small flower challenge.” She chuckles.
“Pansies are easy to plant and they don’t need much. I’ve got some seeds. We’ll have to chose a place where the sun always touches. I’ll let you plant these at the end of the lesson as a quick test.” she said.
“You’ll give them to me easily?” He questions, looking down at the seeds.
“Now these pansies aren’t difficult to grow either. I planted one here in this pot. I’ll give it to you. It already has a flower and if you take care of her, more will blossom. Remember to water the pansy regularly.”
“Pansy.” He scowled, “Can I change the flowers’ name?”
“To what?” She asks.
“Hermione isn’t a flower Malfoy. Plus you can’t change a flowers’ name.”
“But Pansy.” He glared at the flower pot.
“Hi, Malfoy. I’m Pansy. Please take care of me.” She changed her voice and moved the flowers’ leaf as if the flower was waving at him.
“That was creepy.” He stated. She laughed and handed the pot to him.
“I’ll take care of it. I promise.” He said.
“Here are some gloves. I’ve got another plant here.” She handed him her pair of pink gloves.
“Don’t you have another colour?” he nervously laughed.
“Nope. It’s these,” she holds the pink gloves in front of her. “Or these.” She held another pair of red gloves.
He sighed, “I’ll take the girly gloves rather than the red, any day.”
“This is a trowel. You use it to dig holes.” She showed him the gardening tool.
He took it and made a few holes for the flower seeds.
“Perfect. You have a natural talent for gardening.” she laughed.
“Harry quick!” A voice shouted out.
The two in the garden turned to face the voice. Harry, Dean and Ron stood proudly like they’ve found something amazing.
Draco’s eyes widened and stood up, dropping the gardening tools.
“What are you doing here!?”
“Nice gloves, Malfoy!” Harry yelled out.
Draco looked down at his hands and quickly took off his gloves.
“Did you get that Harry?” Dean asked as he looked over Harry’s shoulder.
“I did.” He said, holding and looking to a rectangle device.
“Gotta keep this.” Harry said to himself.
“No! Delete that right now Potter.”
“No. I’m going to frame it.” He told him while zooming in on the pink gloves.
“If you do that, I’ll plant your head in this hole.” Draco shouted.
“Malfoy you’re going to scare those flowers with that scowl of yours!” Ron said.
“What, you finally realized you have no talent in Quidditch and you decided to pick up a girly activity?” Dean asked.
“I’m going to destroy you all in the field tomorrow.” Draco growled.
“Can you make us a book with flowers and how they should be taken care of? I’m sure my mum needs one.” Ron teased.
“Are you going to work in a muggle flower shop? If you do, can you give me a discount when I’ll come to buy flowers for my girlfriend?” Harry asked.
“Well, I find a man who knows the arts of gardening very attractive.” She defended Draco and kissed his cheek. “Just imagine how he treats a girl if he treats these flowers gentle.” She said and Draco put an arm around her waist.
“And just look at this muscles. I see that taking care of flowers is a good work out.” She placed her hand on Draco’s arm.
“Let’s go before, we lose the rest of the dignity we still have.” Harry said to Ron and Dean.
They left and Draco looked at her. “Thank you for defending me from your friends.” He said.
“Of course. And don’t worry. I’m sure Harry won’t frame those pictures, I’ll make sure of it.” She reassured him.
“I don’t care if they do. I have you next to me, so…” He shrugged off. “Now let’s get back to our work.” He said and looked to the place where the gardening tools rested.
“Draco.” she whispers and slowly touched his arm.
He hummed and looked into her eyes. It took a few moments before she stood on her toes and kissed him. He put his arms on her waist to bring her closer. She placed her hands on his back and they kissed.
“Thank you.” She whispered, as she withdrew from his lips.
“For what?” He asked, still dazed from the kiss.
“For enduring the teasing just to spend time with me.” I said.
“When did you find out that I like you?”
“When you asked me to teach you gardening. I know it’s not for Narcissa, she doesn’t do gardening, right? She has a flower garden and that’s it. I didn’t think you’d do it voluntarily.” She laughed.
“Was it that obvious?” Draco asked.
“Very.” She laughed and shook her head in amusement.
“Wait, d-do you…l-lik-” he stuttered.
“I-I mean, do you-?”
“Malfoy, are you trying to ask if I like you back?” She asks with one of her brows raised.
“Yes. Wait, you knew what I was going to say?”
“I apologize, I liked seeing you stutter, Malfoy.”
“Why did you change from Draco to Malfoy?”
“Oh, I did?” She teased as she went inside her house.
“Granger, come here.” He ran after her.
Their laughter filled her house as the two ran around trying to capture each other.
Notes: I think I broke my own heart writing this. It all gets too much for Hazza Bear! I tell you to enjoy but it’s unlikely x
Harry had been hidden in his office near the back of the house for what felt like years. You knew it had only been a few hours but since he arrived home from a day of meetings at 4pm, he’d been in there all evening, with it now steadily nearing 9:30pm on a Friday night; a Friday which would usually be spent either out at dinner with friends or with family, or maybe a takeaway night for the kids, but apart from a grunt as he got in, you nor the kids had heard a peep from behind the office door. He knew there was pizza waiting in the kitchen; he could smell it, but that didn’t tempt him to join his family. Isabella had finished all of her homework in the library after school so she was free for the weekend, and Zack and Tommy were out in the garden teaching George some new football tricks that they’d learnt at their Tuesday evening football training a few days ago. Every so often, the ball would hit the wall outside Harry’s office, causing a loud thud and then a sigh from him as he tried to concentrate.
You decided after five and half hours that you should at least check on him to make sure he was ok. Harry had a distinct line between when he could and when he shouldn’t be disturbed; work and his home life were incredibly separate unless you were attending a red carpet event or party with him, and one thing that annoyed him most was somebody interrupting him when he was deep in thought. He wouldn’t get angry, no, he would just sigh and give a look until said person left him alone. Making a cup of tea for him gave you a reason to go in besides just checking up on him but you knocked on the door to no answer. You sighed and opened the door anyway; it was your house too, you thought. He didn’t look up or turn around as you entered and his back stayed facing you as he leaned forward slightly, left arm resting on the table in front of his computer which was displaying all sorts of arithmetic.
▪ Effie moving to District 12 with Peeta once he finished recovering in the Capitol ▪ Effie moving in with Haymitch ▪ Effie trying to figure out how to use a non electric stove in District 12, resulting in a small fire and a significantly burned anniversary dinner ▪ Effie being asked to feed the geese when Haymitch is sick and she somehow ends up being chased by 4 very hungry geese as she runs in high heels throwing their food all around trying to throw them off her trail ▪ Effie deciding to finally take off her wig in front of the kids ▪ Peeta teaching Effie how to garden ▪ Effie taking care of Katniss as she goes into labor with her kids ▪ Effie draging Haymitch to the Capitol every so often to buy him new clothes ▪ Haymitch taking Effie on picnics at the lake Katniss found when hunting ▪ Haymitch and Effie acting like grandparents to Katniss and Peeta’s kids ▪ Haymitch picking flowers for Effie but just setting them on the counter and never actually giving them to her because he doesn’t want to be cheesy ▪ Effie deciding to clean the house and finding old pictures of Haymitch and his family ▪ Haymitch covering Effie with a blanket when she falls asleep on the couch after reading
I want sun-stained wooden floors and french windows and an untamed, untamable garden. I want your arms in the morning, pinning me under blankets. Ignoring my grouchy complaints and half-hearted attempts at escape. I want your laugh in the evening, your crinkled eyes the very same as the first time I met you. I want to be an english teacher. I want to be a writer. I want to be an art historian. I want to be an artist. I want to be around horses. I want to be a horse. I want to rush to do everything. I want to be able to do nothing. I want to know what I want. I want to stop being angry with myself for not knowing. I want to be responsible, reliable, steadfast. I want to be careless, indefinite, uncertain. I want sun and storms and mountains and trees. I want air so cold it freezes the end of my nose and makes me regret the existence of toes. I want long drives. Shitty gas station coffee and pillows against car windows. I want old music filled with memories and new music for making more. I want to be better at saying what I mean. I want to be better at at least saying something.
just the town though. manager had to teach a mini garden workshop and wanted an assistant. he did all the hard work (demonstration) and I did the little side stuff (carry things, cash people out, help them plant gardens). demos are always fun! everyone makes something different~.
but uh. wow. the drive down was sunny and bright until right at the end. we drove under the clouds and it was like walking into a dense forest. dark and low and cold. and the way home was white-out at times.
and on the road back to the greenhouses, we decided to go to Wendy’s for late lunch. his treat. so I was like, “shoot, if you’re paying, I’ll get something fancy.” and he cracked up bc “you’re not gonna find, like, ~steak and lobster~ there.” “nah man, the $5 sandwich instead of the $3 one. FANCY.”