#mllekurtz

[ID in alt text]

it was stormy and I had all my fairy lights on last night, so I unearthed and touched up this old WIP. enjoy~

"How has he been?" asks Beau, kicking back until she's balancing dangerously on the back two legs of her chair. She does this often, with a disregard for how quickly it could backfire on her, but then her reactions are quicker than Caleb's. Still. If he uses his foot to make it rock slightly under her to see the brief flick of fear across her face, that is between him and himself. "Obsessive," Caleb replies, sliding his foot back carefully as the chair rocks back onto four legs. "Hey!" "What? He is!" "No, for the fucking--you asshole." Caleb flinches back instinctively--the dining table between them isn't any protection from Beauregard's flying elbows--before he grins. "He has spreadsheets for the optimal watering schedule and exactly when they need to be rotated to maximise the sun!" "Coming from Mr 'I tracked my notebook usage to set up an auto-delivery every six weeks' Widogast. Pot, kettle, black, Caleb." "And does the wildflower know when the rain is coming? No! Yet it still grows!" "Let the man have his passions!" Caleb snorts. Essek has many passions, plants being the most recent. Though in all honesty, this one he quite likes. He hasn't mentioned it yet, but having greenery around is nice. Calming. And it makes him smile to see Essek pottering around with his little watering can and moisture monitor and talking to the plants. He really did need something that got him away from work. But half the fun of arguing with Beauregard is the argument itself, regardless of the content. "Beauregard, I no longer have a laundry. It's become a greenhouse!" "You really should look at moving. Apartments really are not set up for gardens, and it's good for him. Good for you too." Caleb swallows past the lump in his throat. They have spoken about it, about how it might be time to start looking for somewhere a little bigger, with a little more space, they just can't quite agree on where yet. It's also something he never thought he would be in a place to achieve--a relationship, or a house, or anything stable. A blessing, and he's terrified of moving too quickly least the house of cards comes crashing down around him. "Eventually. " "I'll send you a listing that Dairon was talking about recently. Has a vegetable garden and a small greenhouse. I think you might convince him once you see it." "I--it's not necessarily him that needs convincing. It feels... the apartment is safe. But a house?" "You could have a library. A whole nerd room of books. Isn't that worth doing something a little scary?" He thinks about it. Takes a breath. "Ja. Ja, it can be. No promises, but send it to me later." "We'll make a proper adult out of you yet."

"Perhaps Travis can help with this," he says, and taps one finger on the map. "This symbol represents an inn, where the two of you can get a room."

Sorry my notifications ate this ask, but thank you so much!!! That fic was a joy to share. Also I love your work, I can definitely see the cruel tentativeness at play in birds of prey 💕 thanks for sending this!

A gift for the wonderful @mllekurtz as part of the @cr-summer-wildflowers gift exchange!

Link to ‘Fundamental Forces Other Than Gravity’ is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28453104

And god, the idea that your friends are the most beautiful people in the world is so, so true. The first time that hit me was when I was in high school: I remember thinking very clearly one morning, before classes started “huh, isn’t it weird that none of my friends - no one I know, really - is ugly? What even is ugly?” 25 years later I have a vocabulary that can help describe these experiences a bit better, but I also have always had the words to say that my friends - including my beloved pocket friends - are beautiful. Gorgeous. Striking. Handsome. Dear and darling and lovely in many, many ways.