My small renovation of the New Moon Shack in Moonwood Mill. ✨

15 + Lup & Magnus for the incredibly specific au prompts?

15. nothing against your choices at all, honestly kind of enthralled, but the fishnets and thigh-high boots and pirate blouse seem like a lot for this 8am class

(no longer accepting but you can find the prompts here!!)

--

If there was anything Magnus prided himself on (and he prided himself on a lot of things), it was how friendly he was. "Rustically hospitable" was how Ma phrased it, but he just called it plain ol' likeable him. His charm was defientely helpful considering he had moved half way across the country for this college and didn't know anybody. It had only been three weeks but Magnus had gained a lot of friends. He was proud of himself.

But the woman who sat in front of him during entry-level mathematics? Magnus had no clue how to talk to her.

Her personality seemed to switch by the day. On the first day of class, she had come in and smiled at him before sitting down. The next day, when Magnus tried to strike up a conversation before class, she didn't seem to recognize him at all. The day after that, she had not-so-subtly leaned to the side so Magnus could copy her notes after he had bemoaned to the person sitting next to him about how hard it was to see the whiteboard. The very next day, she had snapped her laptop shut the moment Magnus tried to get a peek.

He had no clue what to make of her. But if there was anything else that Magnus prided himself on (and there were a LOT of things), it was how stubborn he was. So the Monday of week three, Magnus switched seats and sat directly next to her. She came in closer to eight, giving him a smile and setting up her notebooks.

One other thing about her was her outfits. Magnus had never seen one person wear so many completely different styles. Last week, it was a lot of warm tones and black, until she showed up in layers of cooler colors and a big floppy hat that made it even more difficult for Magnus to see the board. That day, he had tried to compliment her nails and ask her if it was difficult changing the style every other day, but she had just given him a side-eye and sunken lower into her seat.

Today, she was wearing what Magnus could only describe as a pirate blouse, the type with the big poofy sleeves. She had fishnet leggings and thigh-high boots. But it was all in warm colors, so Magnus must have caught her on a good day.

"Changed seats?" she asked.

"Gonna see if I can read the board a little better from here," Magnus said. "And I wanted to ask you something."

"Oh?" she said, now seeming a little guarded, more like she was in cool color days. Magnus backtracked a bit. What he meant to say was something like "do you have a secret twin who comes to class every other day or...???" but what he said instead was,

"Nothing against your choices at all, honestly kind of enthralled, but the fishnets and thigh-high boots and pirate blouse seem like a lot for an eight AM class."

She blinked at him. And then, she cracked into a grin and let out a little laugh. Laughing meant he did the correct thing, right? Right?

"You're a hoot, babe," she said, patting him on the arm. "Yeah, it's a lot for this class. But I gotta give my best every day, right? No gain without pain, or whatever."

"I get that!" Magnus said. "I'm not that good at fashion but you seem to know what you're doing, at least. I think I've been wearing cargo shorts since I was born."

"Some people have to bear that burden," she said gravely. "I don't think I ever got your name."

"I think I said it on the second day of class?" Magnus said. She grimaced. "But it's been a while! So no problem! I'm Magnus, Magnus Burnsides."

"Lup," she said, holding out a hand for him to shake. He did so, enthusiastically. Lup laughed again. "I hope sitting here can help you see better. Here-" she flipped through her notebook and tore a piece of the last page off. She scribbled down her number on it. "If you can't make it out, just text me, K?"

"I will," Magnus said. "Thank you!"

"No prob, my man," Lup said, leaning back a bit in her seat. "We gotta help each other out."

Magnus thought back to her glaring at him over his shoulder last week but decided not to bring it up. He was hopefully on her good side for now, at least.

chiaroscuro

artist!Robert Plant AU one shot.

a/n: this really started out as a song I wanted to write. But I knew I had to turn it into a longer writing!!

themes: fluff, mild implications of nsfw and tw: childhood trauma.

summary: in which Y/N becomes a muse for Robert, a landscape artist in more ways than one. (Man, that summary is so shit but let's roll with it)

pairing: artist!Robert Plant x fem!reader

chi·a·ro·scu·ro

the treatment of light and shade in drawing and painting.

an effect of contrasted light and shadow created by light falling unevenly or from a particular direction on something.

"Lean back for me a bit more, darling. That's right, relax."

As she moves, the old sofa creaks beneath her. Chilled air gusts through a partially opened window, making her shiver and sending miniscule bumps all over her bare skin. Her eyes drift over the fixtures inside the cozy cabin, illuminated by an outmoded oil lamp situated on the man's table. Several tiny moths were floating around it as the flame wavered ever so slightly from the breeze.

Scattered were all paintbrushes and smudges of paint were messily smeared all over the table. A round board was placed so close at the edge (one she heard him call before —a palette). In the middle is a rustic cup with half-empty, now cold tea. But a paint-smudged hand grasped on its handle and swiftly brought it over to a mouth. 

Then her eyes met his.

His frizzled, curly blond locks are pulled into a disheveled bun. One he pinned up so carelessly with a thin, unused paintbrush as to prevent it from obstructing his view but a few ringlets managed to escape and are now framing his face.

Ivory-colored shirt, a few buttons undone to reveal smooth skin of his collarbones which were also marked with a few shades of paint. Some scattered across his jawline to his cheek. 

Lips are pursed and eyes are pulled into deep concentration, they are set into a particular part of her. As if to capture the exact curvature of the crease on her waist.

Salient was the cleft on his chin and the sharp edge of his cheekbones by the incandescent light lent by the lamp, making him look like a contrast between sinister and elegance.

He dipped a brush and carefully made short strokes on the canvas, pausing every now and then to look at her.

The sun was setting and the sky was shaded a dull gray, providing so little of brightness which seemed to have darkened even more being situated in a lush forest.

Many months ago at this time of the day, she would have just been getting up from her sleep. Wake up and get ready for a long shift. It was a routine she had gotten so used to every day.

Take a bath. Eat. Pick out an outfit. Put on makeup. Be into the persona.

She would become a completely different person as soon as she stepped into the establishment she knew for as long as she moved into the town a few months ago.

From having to move into different cities and using different names to hide her identity. All of it to escape the filthy and haunted ghost of her past. 

Screaming. Glass breaking. Bruises. Slamming doors.  All of the things a child shouldn't have to go through. She took a risk and ran away from it.

And here is where she ended up thirteen years later.

Lacklustre eyes unmoving as they steadily stared back at her in a blurry mirror inside the changing room. All the girls' chattering seemed to have been muted and faded in the background as she gazed at her reflection. She picked up the small item in her hand, before taking the cap off and swiped the crimson lipstick across her chapped lips, creating a thick shade.

"Y/N, you ready to go?"

She turned her head back to Don, the club manager. She smiled and moved her head in a single nod.

“Sure, Don. Just give me a short moment”. She adjusted the strap of her black velvet dress and walked on the familiar, dimly lit hallway. Her stilettos clapped quietly on the floor as she padded and stopped in front of a red curtain covering the doorway from the side to the stage. 

"How's it going, folks? Alright, alright. I'd get right into it. This is the moment you've all been waiting for. The crowd favourite, slithers like a python, mistress of the night; Marilyn"

Then, she waited as the main lights switched off and took her cue to enter as smoke filled the platform. Coloured lights gleamed right through. She situated herself right in the middle then circled her hand on the pole as the first note of the song started to hum quietly. Like a distant patter of rain—calm before the storm. Her hips moved into the rhythm and fluidly sneaked around the pole as the cloud of smoke started to clear out. Gazing into the crowd of men, her blood-red lips quirk into a smirk.

It was the only time she knew she had complete power and control. And she relished it, savoring the potency. 

Her hands smoothed all over her now slightly perspired skin as men clamored and hooted for her. Bills were haphazardly thrown into the dancefloor. Something that she wasn't used to when she first started, it made her feel cheap. Dirty. But her routine carried on almost every night, she eventually got used to it and had even grown to like it.

Then she spotted him. 

Big ball of golden hair illuminated by stage lights. He was situated amongst the sea of predators, his eyes followed the fluidity of her movements. But what struck her the most was the way he was watching her. It wasn't shadowed by lust, but more of an intense wonder and curiosity. It was as if he was memorizing each part of her curves, but for another purpose.

Her gaze somewhat mirrored his. He definitely wasn't strange-looking. Hell, he might have been the most beautiful man she has ever seen. He didn't belong to a place where no good men wander around. Both his beguiling beauty and aura was completely out of place for such a place like this.

The song then came to a stop. Her number was over but her eyes remained locked with his. It was only then she came back to consciousness as Don's voice boomed into the large speakers, signalling the end of her performance. She collected the bills scattered on the floor and walked off the stage, throwing a last glance into the crowd as she took her exit.

He was gone.

He wouldn't show up for a couple of days. She was sure, of course. The moment she steps out, her eyes would already be skimming through the lounge, and would sigh in disappointment if she didn't spot any sign of him.

"Have you seen your mysterious man yet?"

One of the girls she was closest to, Hershey, asked as she counted the thick block of bills on her hand.

"He wasn't out there tonight"

"You could have been hallucinating. Anyway, you told me he was 'like an angel'"

Hershey laughed, mimicking the way she had said the last part with a breathy tone and added, "Or could have been disappointed in your dance number, ran away and swore to not step a foot into this place again"

She stopped momentarily, chuckled lightly and sighed, "You may not be far from the truth but we'll see."

Then he would be there the next night, positioned right at a table at the back. His curly locks gave his identity right away, with his elbows propped up and fingers poised against his chin, bearing the same gaze. 

Later that night, he'd be waiting right outside of the club.

"The show was spectacular."

She tilted her head to him, nodded and smiled.

"Thank you."

She wasn't sure how it ended up with her sitting on a stool inside a cozy 24-hour operating diner so late at night, chatting with her "mysterious man" late at night, who introduced himself as Robert. He was apparently a landscape artist and has traveled the world where he finds inspirations for his works.

"The best place I have ever been to? Hm. I'd say Machu Picchu, set in the high mountains of Andes in Peru, above a river called Urubamba. I had to hike all the way up, and you could see the breathtaking view when you reach the top."

"That does sound very lovely." She sighed wistfully.

"Have you ever traveled anywhere outside the country?"

"Oh no, I have not. I move to different places a lot but I've never gone out, never had the chance to."

"Ah, you should! It's wonderful."

She nodded, "Do you only do landscaping?"

"Well, no. I do a little bit of abstract art but I focus mainly on landscaping. I was thinking of expanding more, though. Maybe portrait, or nude art."

"That's a good idea. An artist has to come out of his comfort zone and be able to become great."

"Yeah…", he trailed off, as if lost in thought. "I hope this doesn't come off as strange or I as a creep. But may I ask you to be my muse? Don't worry! We'll only do portrait." He added the last sentence quickly.

She tilted her head to the side and looked at him, her brows furrowed deep in thought.

"You don't have to s—"

"I'll do it."

A few days later, she was again popped up on a stool inside his flat just a few blocks away from the club. His place was spacious, but had a very rustic feel to the interior design. A few souvenirs from different countries were neatly placed on a shelf and most of his paintings were hung stylistically on the walls (in which she stared at in complete awe for what she could tell an hour each painting until he had to drag her away to his studio)

Her fingers fiddled as she tried to stay still under his calculating gaze. She never had much problem with how she looked and never had insecurities. Perhaps she just didn't care enough to be insecure. But at that moment, she thought of how she must've appeared to him and if she was good-looking enough to be an inspiration for his art.

"Are you alright there?"

"Yes! Yes, I… Yeah I'm alright."

His hand stopped and placed the paintbrush on the table. "Are you sure? If you're not comfortable or if you need a break, we could stop for a bit."

She shook her head vigorously, "No, it's okay. Don't worry."

"If you say so."

She let her eyes travel from his bare foot, to his khaki trousers, to his satin shirt with top three buttons undone, to his face. Oh, his gorgeous face. It was pulled into a deep concentration as he stared at his work, giving her some time to study his majestic features.

His eyes flickered to hers as if sensing her stare and playfully frowned, a small smile curled on the side of his lips.

"What?"

"What?"

He laughed, "You were staring."

"I was. Is it a crime?"

"No, I wouldn't say it is." He said with a teasing edge to his voice. 

It was their arrangement which they stick to a few times a week. On her day off, after work if she wasn't feeling too exhausted. There was an obvious attraction lingering inside the room of his small studio but none of them acted upon it other than just casual flirtations thrown around. He was a perfect gentleman and had always been accommodating. A couple of times he would insist on paying her in which she would always refuse to accept. 

"The tea you make for me is enough for a payment." She had jokingly said. "Do not worry about it, Robert. Really, it's okay. I'm making enough from my job."

One night, after their sessions, they had too many drinks and bottles were littered over the table along with his paint brushes which had long dried of paint. 

"Tell me about you, Marilyn. Mistress of the night, who apparently, slithers like a python." He mused, mentioning her alias. His glossy eyes filled with mirth.

She snorted, took a long swig of beer and swiped the back of her hand across her mouth. 

"Marilyn is… Nobody. I'm nobody. I came from somewhere that in my mind, ceased to exist." She stared ahead. "I ran away from home. Who calls it a home anyway?" She laughed humorlessly.

"My parents fought a lot. They spent so much time fighting, they didn't even have time for me. Looking back at it now, I could have just preferred that. But then, they turned their anger towards me." She sniffed and quickly wiped the salty tears before they even slid down to her flushed cheeks.

"I went to my grandparents. They loved me so much and I loved them so dearly. But they were not my parents. Eventually, both of them passed away and I was left on my own. But I was eighteen. I didn't have to go back to my parents. So I went to different cities, finding places where I could feel like I could fit in. Looked for jobs, and then I ended up here. I made friends and I have my own place, but it still never felt like home."

He was quietly staring at her, and the silence was deafening. Then he lifted his free hand to her face and ran the back of his index finger to dry her cheeks. Her hand caught his and brought it to her lips and placed a soft kiss. 

"But with you, it feels… different. I like hanging out with you. I like being with you. You feel like home to me, Robert."

Her voice echoed softly as he took his time to reply. But he didn't, instead, he leaned down and sealed his lips against hers. 

He layed limply on top of her body as he shuddered from his release. Both tried to desperately catch for their breath as her hand smoothed down his back and the other combed through his damp locks. He slid out of her and dropped beside her, not too long before he enclosed his arms over her and pulled closer. He catches her lips on his in a lazy kiss and smiled.

"You feel like home to me too, Y/N."

Her heart soared and nuzzled her nose against his.

"I want to paint you like this. May I? You are so beautiful. In light and in shadow."

She blushed, "Yes, but right now? I'm tired."

"No, no. We'll do it tomorrow. I'll take you somewhere." His warm breath hit her skin as he whispered.

"Where?" She whispered back.

"Well, I'm not telling you that. But it was what I helped my Father build when I was younger. It's somewhat like a special place for me, and I want you to see it."

He gazed at her as he waited for her to respond.

"Okay."

Under the light of the lamp, she peers at him under her lashes.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Mm? I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You know what it is. Cut it out or I'll never get to finish this."

She huffs. "You're no fun"

"I can prove you otherwise in a few minutes."

He continued to do his finishing touches and leaned back to admire his work.

"That isn't too bad. But nothing compares to the real art."

"And what might that be?"

"You, my love." He stood up, walked over to where she was, placed his hand at the back of her neck and pulled her to him.

"I've been waiting for this for hours."

"I've been giving you hints and you insist on finishing your art."

He chuckled. "Of course I had to."

His fingers danced their way from her sides to her hips, rubbing along the marks littered across her skin.

"Are you ready to see it?" He murmured against her neck. She shudders as she nodded, giving their playful banter a break. 

He bit her earlobe softly, "Okay."

He walked over to his canvas and carefully turned it around to face her.

She gasps.

.

⭐ writings list ⭐

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taglist: @jonesyjonesyjonesy , @princesspagey , @ritacaroline , @jimmys-zeppelin , @rebel-without-a-zeppelin , @reincarnated70sbaby (if you wanted to be added in, let me know 🤘🏻🤗)

I’m happy I’m sad I’m motivated I’m unmotivated I’m sick I’m taken I have a crush I’m in love I’m single I’m brokenhearted

I want to sleep I want to study I want to go out I want to stay home I have school today I have work today

I’m afraid of spiders I’m afraid of being alone I’m afraid of snakes I’m afraid of flying I’m afraid of failure I’m afraid of clowns

I took chemistry classes in high school I took math classes in high school I took English classes in high school I took geography classes in high school I took biology classes in high school I had gym in high school I took art classes in high school I took science classes in high school I took history classes in high school I took physics classes in high school I was in the theatre after school program in high school I had some sort of music classes in high school I had some sort of dance classes in high school

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Bold the things you’ve never done.

I’ve never gone to Disney World. I’ve never been out of my home country. I’ve never kissed a stranger on the lips. I’ve never read a book over eight hundred pages. I’ve never painted a picture on a canvas. I’ve never sang in front of a large crowd by myself.

I’ve never had braces. I’ve never learned French. I’ve never had a fight with my dad. I’ve never updated my status through my phone. I’ve never used Nair. I’ve never cut my wrists. I’ve never wanted plastic surgery. I’ve never drank organic regular milk. I’ve never learned Chinese. I’ve never blew up a balloon. I’ve never changed a baby’s diaper. I’ve never lost my phone for good. I’ve never lost a friend through death. I’ve never met one of my grandparents. I’ve never met someone with my exact name. I’ve never dated someone with red hair. I’ve never put on eyeliner for myself. I’ve never took a dance class. I’ve never tried weed. I’ve never tried drugs. I’ve never cooked dinner for my family. I’ve never had anything besides my ears pierced. I’ve never had a tattoo. I’ve never went to the beach to tan. I’ve never kissed anyone on the lips that was younger than me. I’ve never dumped someone. I’ve never stepped in something nasty barefooted. I’ve never cheated on someone. I’ve never waxed anything on my body. I’ve never dyed my whole head a different color. I’ve never kissed anyone who was above the age of seventeen. I’ve never kissed in the rain. I’ve never gone a day without laughing. I’ve never got held back a grade. I’ve never stolen anything over twenty dollars.

-

Aries

Waiting until the last minute TL;DR (too long, didn’t read) Angry crying 4 am seamless Big flirt Hot yoga “Why are you so upset? I’m over it now” No filter Cutting in line at the store Skipping to the “good part” Ignoring the speed limit Tinder Shoplifting Exclamation points!!! Bad tattoos Caffeine addiction Toned AF Muay Thai “Don’t touch me” Breaking a bone Spelling errors Picking fights for no reason Lowkey really sensitive Skipping breakfast 7/24

Taurus Falling asleep on the subway Going barefoot Using hands as utensils Calling in sick Materialism Tree climbing Cuddling Controlling the aux Great British baking show “I deserve to treat myself” Aesthetics Spending the whole day in bed Anything that says “natural” on it Long-term relationships Expensive sheets Picnics in the park Essential oils Sex as exercise Tender Wearing the same outfit 3 days in a row Says a controversial opinion and then “I’m not going to argue” Calm, cool, and collected Silk everything 5 meals a day 7/24

Gemini Giving unqualified advice 50 different tangents “Prove it” Playing Devil’s advocate Can’t keep a secret Scamming Carrying a book around Arguing for fun Always knowing the latest gossip Adderall Spilling guts to the Uber driver Rationalizing emotions Lying to be more interesting Most active in the group chat Anxiety Telling the same story 10 times to perfect it Philosophy 1000 ideas per minute Sardonic sense of humor Full of interesting facts 23 best friends Internet memes Forgot how to cry Living a double life 4/24

Cancer Screenshots Same friends since high school Sleeps with a stuffed animal Vintage clothes Cries when yelled at Going home early Nesting Holding grudges Mood swings Drinking tea Supporting others’ chaos Social anxiety HGTV Super protective of loved ones Accidental emotional manipulation Cooking for friends Likes animals more than humans Meeting someone and immediately planning their whole lives together Empathizing with film protagonists Vivid childhood memories “Mi casa es tu casa” Serial monogamist Good emotional memory Big hugs 8/24

Leo Mid-day outfit changes Giving out compliments Taking an hour to get ready Accidentally flirting Making friends in the Uber pool Using a window as a mirror Passionate emotional outbursts Lowkey insecure Creating drama to avoid boredom Opening up after just meeting someone Going to the spa Needing to make opinions known Large but fragile ego Wanting recognition for your generosity Making a scene Pretending life is reality TV Giving really subjective advice Overdressed for the function Creative genius Social media as therapy Trying something and being instantly good at it Can’t take a joke Self-care Urge to stand out 7/24

Virgo Over-analyzing friendships Fact check Knowing a little about everything Helping people get their shit together Very specific tastes Fixing it or making it 10x worse Personal projects Health routines Pretending to have your shit together Repeating a task over and over until it’s perfect On good terms with your trash exes Stretching self too thin Stuck in negative thought cycles Noticing little things no one else notices Needs to quit like 3 things Nitpicking Self-sacrificing Hyperfocus Reading 3 books at once “Sorry for the late reply” Functioning on 3 hours of sleep Can’t turn brain off Neurotic Putting yourself last 17/24

Libra Fomo (fear of missing out) Saying yes to every opportunity A little bit of suck up Fear of being alone Flirting with everyone but your crush Tossing a coin to make big decisions Easily influenced Art films Strong sense of right and wrong Torn between being social and having much needed alone time New crush every day Going to museums Overthinking romantic relationships Truly admiring all your friends Adopting others’ hobbies and mannerisms Overdraft fees Showing up late or not showing up at all Avoiding conflicts at all costs Talking about past romances on the first date Gossipy but with good intentions Panicking when someone raises their voice Trying to see both sides Unable to end a bad relationship Pretending to hate drama 9/24

Scorpio Resting bitch face Keeping the right amount of secrets Has a “hit” list (either meaning) Needing to have control in relationships Knowing what you want and exactly how to get it Disappearing at parties Morbid thoughts Believes in “energy” Attractive Staring from across the room Stalking crush’s social media Fascination with cults Still in an emo phase Breaking hearts but sad about it Trust issues All black Existential angst Silently walking away from uninteresting conversations Chaotic emotions behind a calm mask Craving emotional intensity “What am I gonna gain from it?” Seeming intimidating, actually really sensitive Friendships of utility Loves crime 12/24

Sagittarius Losing interest and quitting anything that doesn’t come easily Giving opinions without being asked No inside voice Arguing as foreplay Backpacking trips Talking over people Stating opinions as facts Corny jokes Took one philosophy class and is basically Nietzsche now Always having the last word Using big words to sound smart Speaking more than one language Fueled by laughter Calling friends on their BS Asking for advice and then not taking it Needing to change activities every 30 minutes Telling it like it is Correcting people Unwaveringly optimistic Laugh can be heard from across the room Talking about a book after only reading the Wikipedia synopsis Learning a lot from travel Periodically getting rid of all your belongings Pulling out a party trick 9/24

Capricorn Fear of not living up to potential Overcommitting Anything ‘rustic’ Favorite song is the NPR jingle Has real, tangible goals Repressing trauma Always on time Slow and steady Minding your own business Prefers on one hangs to group hangs Work/life balance Putting more money into savings than you take out Acting 20 years older than you actually are Is prepared for the worst-case scenario Never asking for help Reading for fun Is actually normcore Taking care of business Taking things seriously Motivated by stress Minimalism Hanging out with the same 3 people Bashful around crush Holding friends to high standards 9/24

Aquarius Lowkey superstitious Obscure music David Lynch Weird makeup Self-given haircuts Bad at flirting Feeling like an alien Reding conspiracy theories on the internet Estranged from emotions Experimental poetry Martyr complex Being called a free spirit Abstract concepts Making plans and canceling them Intellectual superiority A little arrogant Loves an underdog Using a thesaurus Activism Fuck the rules Intentionally provocative Highly ethical Queer theory Niche knowledge base 1/24

Pisces Head in the clouds Misplacing keys Unofficially moving in with friends Easily overwhelmed Empathizing with plants Existential crisis #3 Really long showers Leaving clothes in a pile on the ground Using fantasies as an escape Romantic drama Need for constant validation Acts either 7 or 70 Incredibly active imagination Cripplingly self-aware Over-apologizing In love with 10 people at once Binge drinking Giving good advice but can’t apply it to yourself Secretly writes poetry Crying in the bathroom at work Can’t take criticism Mind reading #NoBoundaries Saying something deep out of nowhere 12/24

I am most like a Virgo (my actual sign)

-

You have an ex You don’t wear glasses You have blue/gray/green eyes

You’re pretty tall

You can drive a manual transmission car

You know how to change the oil

You know all about cars

You have a serious passion for photography

You’ve known your best friend since middle school You’re close friends with someone since elementary school You prefer Quiznos over Subway

You’re in a relationship You’ve had a rebound before You’ve been in a relationship for five years

You’ve cheated before

You’ve dated someone who was Asian You’ve dated someone who was Hispanic

You’ve dated someone of your own ethnicity You like to sleep a lot You were born in winter Your birthday is in February

You’re the oldest in your family

You have a younger sister You have a cat You don’t have step-parents You often work the night shifts at your job

You can play the drums

You know a lot about flowers

You’re allergic to shellfish

You like garlic You like a lot of cheese

You get real Christmas trees

You’ve been in a car accident before You’ve snuck people over to your house You’re part Hawaiian

You’re a Pisces

You have no tattoos You have no piercings You have brown hair You have a Steam account You don’t have a Twitter

You’re hardly on any networking sites

You have an XBox360 You don’t like Playstation products very much

You have relatives in Alaska and/or Hawaii

You have a Toshiba laptop

You love German Shepherds You love Welsh Corgis You are Republican

You are Methodist

Your room is rarely ever clean

You’ve drunk dialed someone

A nasty rumor has been spread about you You’re in college One of your parents was at one point enlisted in the military

You are close with your family You like paintballing

You don’t smoke You don’t do drugs

You have a habit of keeping things you borrowed longer than expected

Hoot and Howl, Chapter 1

TITLE: Hoot and Howl CHAPTER NUMBER: 1/? AUTHOR: Losille2000 CHARACTERS: Actor!Chris Evans/OFC GENRE: Paranormal Romance (more on the magical realism side?) FIC SUMMARY: Chris goes on a camping trip to calm the noisy anxiety in his head, but it ends up leading him into his own messed up version of a Disney movie. When he said he wanted to be a Disney prince as a boy, this was absolutely not what he meant. Especially considering that the princess is also, well... about that... RATING: M (sex, language) WARNINGS:  Nothing. AUTHORS NOTES: This is the second story in the Seasons of Magic series, so the same “world” as Home is set in. I will continue Home, but this needed to get out. Also, it has obviously been a very long time since I’ve updated and/or written anything of great substance, so please be kind. That said, I do appreciate any concrit if you have it. You do NOT need to read Home to understand this story.

Also a quick message to my readers who are coming back: welcome back! I appreciate you all so much. I know it's been a long, long time since I've updated. A lot has happened in 2 years (for one, I am now teaching full time, and teaching eats all of your extra time). A lot is still happening. But this unprecedented time at home has given me an opportunity to try to write again. Enjoy!

Previous Chapter - Also available on Archive of Our Own!

Chapter 1

The speeding truck, rusted out and sputtering, navigated over a narrow gravel driveway and through dense pine forest for a quarter mile off the main highway until the path opened into a clearing. Inside the clearing was a simple country farmhouse with hunter green shutters and aged white siding, sedate and quiet, but for faint white smoke curling out of a tall stone chimney. A vibrant forest behind the house was aflame in brilliant autumnal colors, cloaking the mountain in shades of kingly red and gold as it reached into a stormy sky.

 Chris only wished he could truly appreciate nature’s beauty, rhapsodize on it, photograph it, consider how, even when it seemed like the world was going to shit, there was still… this. But he couldn’t; rather, he kept his eyes keenly affixed on the narrow drive to assure that he and his passenger reached their destination in relative safety.

 Relative, being the operative word.

As though to test him, the truck bounced over a particularly uneven patch of gravel. The rear swerved and his heart jumped to his throat, but he was able to right the vehicle with a steady shift of the steering wheel and a determined clamp of teeth on his lower lip. Only belatedly did he remind himself to breathe, to calm the heart once again beating a heavy tattoo in his chest.

 Chris inhaled deeply, twice, and instantly regretted it. The cabin reeked of wet dog and man, mud, and the metallic tang of blood. His stomach clenched. Giving in, he took his eyes off the road for just a moment to glance at his companion, who had curled up on the truck’s bench seat beside him. The red and blue plaid flannel he used to wrap Dodger’s mangled paw had soaked through and now just looked dark brown.

 “Just a few more seconds, buddy,” he murmured, more to hear himself speak, to reassure himself, to connect again with the world instead of spiraling into another panic attack. He’d been doing so well avoiding them recently, too. “We’re almost there.”

 Chris hadn’t seen it happen, really, the incident that led them to this enchanting farmhouse with the green shutters. They’d been out on the river, he and Dodger, two days into a two-week solo camping sabbatical.  Dodger skipped between stones and barked at random creatures scurrying around the banks of the river while Chris adjusted the nylon fishing line on his pole, attempting to catch dinner. Then he heard a yelp and a splash; when his eyes darted in the direction of the sound, Dodger was already struggling to swim in the swift river current.

 Chris jumped into the icy river immediately, without considering the toll it could take on his unprepared body—the river was just a few feet deep, but it was certainly deep enough and cold enough to freeze every vital organ for a split second and prolong the rescue of his precious friend.

 Fortunately, he’d plucked the pup out of the rushing water by the collar just before Dodger was out of reach, and then trudged slowly back to the embankment through thick muddy riverbed, thinking all was fine now and Dodger simply needed to dry off. Other than struggling in the current, it wasn’t a rare occurrence that Dodger’s natural mischief led him to fall in a body of water—be it natural or manmade, like the swimming pool back in LA. Dodger would fall in, get out, Chris would dry him off and then the dog would go lay down, the natural consequence having fully chastised him for being silly.

 But this wasn’t like that at all. Only when they made it back to dry land did Chris notice the blood dripping freely from the canine’s front paw, made all the worse from the water saturating his fur. Somehow, Chris had kept it together long enough to rip a piece of his flannel shirt off and tightly tourniquet Dodger’s leg; never mind that he had a stack of towels and blankets in a duffel bag a few feet away, which might have been useful—also—to warm a shivering, scared animal.

 Then the anxiety hit him, literally knocked him on his own ass, as he scrambled through his fishing tackle box for the emergency burner phone. The one that could dial out for emergency services and receive calls from his mom, because his mom was the only one with the number.

 The phone still had a charge and the old crappy mobile internet had come through for him when he searched for the closest veterinarian, even all the way out in the middle of the Massachusetts wilderness. He’d practically thrown Dodger into the truck and sped away from the campsite, with the fishing line still dangling in the river. 

 Now that he thought about it, or at least, now that the adrenaline had subsided a bit, he realized the mistake he made. If he even made it back to camp tonight, that pole would probably be long gone. And so was any chance of eating because it would be too dark to do any fishing with the other poles he brought with him. The energy bars and backup rations he packed would only go so far to fill his man-sized stomach—and they were supposed to be provisions to last two weeks. He didn’t want to go back into civilization for at least that long.

 Chris grumbled. This was why he didn’t have kids—he could barely handle his dog’s injuries, let alone anything worse. How would he ever react with an actual human child? Leave another fishing pole in the river? Or, if they were at home, leave the stove on and burn an entire house down?

 The thought was absurd!

 Him having children of his own was a ridiculous idea. He absolutely was not qualified. The fact that his girlfriend was pressuring him to commit to that—to finally settle down—only made matters worse. There was nothing he wanted more in the world than to settle down to have a family, but the other person in the relationship had to understand the difference between wanting something and knowing one’s personal limitations. His level of anxiety, despite all the work he had done learning to manage it over the years, was not at the point where he could contemplate children.

 This trauma was a perfect example. Fuck. He probably wasn’t even qualified to have a fur child, now that he thought about. He certainly didn’t feel like he was worthy of the companionship of this perfect spirit lying beside him and whimpering in pain because he hadn’t been paying attention.

 He glanced at Dodger again, but the dog didn’t even pick his head up this time, so he reached out to place a reassuring hand on his back. They’d get to the vet, and everything would be fine. It had to be. He couldn’t lose him.

 A few seconds later, Chris pulled into a parking spot alongside a tiny Toyota Prius, which he found completely incongruous to the rustic storybook farmhouse sitting before it. These places were made for old beaters like his, or something with a little more substance—even if he did appreciate the owner’s care for the environment.

 His old truck creaked to a stop, the noisy clunking machine rattling until it finally fell silent a few seconds later. Dodger whined again and tried to stand on his bad paw, only to slide back down the vinyl seat with the wet shirt rag. He scooped the dog into his arms and pressed his lips to the dog’s head—a completely illogical thing to do at a time like this because it clearly wasn’t going to make Dodger’s paw heal instantly, but it made Chris feel better—and bound up the three front steps toward the second door on the other end of the large porch with the small plaque that read “Dr. Bird, DVM.”

 Grateful the door had been left partially ajar, he nudged his shoulder against it and stepped into a room that looked like any other doctor’s waiting room—human or animal—except for the fact that he was the only person staring at a space he wished were filled with a reception desk with a receptionist. Someone… anyone… who could help Dodger. Immediately. All he found were worn vinyl-cushioned benches, magazines piled on an end table, and lamps glowing soft yellow light into the four corners of wood-paneled walls.

 There was also another door, this one presumably leading further into the house, but it remained firmly shut.

 His anxiety clawed back up his throat and began to strangle him—should he have instead gone to the other vet in the other direction, though another half hour away? Had Dodger lost too much blood? The dog seemed limp in his arms. Was it… was it too late? Should he just barge in through the other door to look for help?

 Chris opened his mouth to yell, but his entreaty died on his lips when the closed door creaked open. A massive cat with a fluffy white coat loped into the room, clearly unphased with the seriousness of the situation. He frowned at the odd creature as it stopped just in front of him, looked up and slowly blinked large jade-green eyes. The proximity of the feline made him uneasy; not only was Dodger uncaring of an animal that he would have otherwise had a real problem with staring up at them, but Chris felt the cat was assessing them frankly, and not in any typical cat-like way.

 The cat made a soft chittering sound, as though trying to communicate with him. Chris’ frown deepened. This was getting them nowhere, fast. And this cat gave off some really fucking weird vibes. And if he weren’t mistaken, it felt like the animal was rolling its eyes in disgust that he, a human, had not been able to understand Cat.

 Was this a dream? Was he hallucinating this? More importantly, what kind of medical professional allowed a cat to be the welcome committee to a place of business, never mind that it was a veterinarian’s office?

 The cat “receptionist” blinked again and sat down heavily, flicking its long tail before emitting a rumbling and, if Chris were being honest, perturbed meow. It echoed in the barren room, but the sound was finally enough to pique Dodger’s interest. The dog turned his head quizzically with perked ears.

 Dodger yipped twice at the animal but didn’t struggle like he wanted to get down and chase the cat. In response, as though they—the dog and the cat—had somehow communicated the problem to each other, the cat stood back up and trotted back to the door and disappeared.

 Chris tried to speak again; a blur of feathers stopped him this time as a large grey bird soared into the room and landed on a perch affixed to the opposite wall. He’d not noticed the protrusion there, as it was made of the same wood as the paneling and blended in with the walls.

 The grey parrot with crimson tail feathers turned to look at him, clucking a few times then saying in a strange parrot voice, “Just a minute! Just a minute!”

 Chris considered turning around and leaving. This was too strange, and his canine companion was too precious to be dealing with a doctor who didn’t have a proper staff and left the care up to a weird fluffball cat and a parrot. When he turned toward the door, the bird suddenly sounded like a Star Wars droid, booping and beeping and trilling like R2D2, then changed to words. “Don’t go! Don’t g—”

 “I’m so sorry!” A new voice—a feminine one, smooth and alto—broke into his periphery. “I was in the middle of something that couldn’t be put down.”

 He whipped around to come face-to-face with a blessedly human figure standing before him, all wind-tousled jet hair and large obsidian eyes. Concern etched an otherwise blemish-free face of smooth tawny skin. She was probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever beheld, but that notion, too, was immediately forgotten like the beauty of the landscape outside, in favor of the creature in his arms.

 “My dog, he—” Chris began, snapping out of his momentary trance.

 She swooped into action, flicking her eyes down to Dodger. She hummed and reached for him. “Let me take him back and have a look.”

 “Can’t I go back?” he asked, reluctantly handing Dodger over.

 She cradled the dog to her chest; Dodger didn’t struggle as she spoke softly. “It’ll be okay, Dodger.”

 “You look as white as a ghost,” she said then, her voice now firm. “You need to sit down and calm down. You’re not going to be any help to your dog or to me if you’re freaking us both out during an exam. Let me look at the injury and stop any active bleeding. Then we’ll talk.”

 And with that, she was gone so quickly he could have sworn she had kicked up a cloud of dust in her wake. However, he did what she’d instructed and collapsed onto one of the old benches, then covered his face with his hands and prayed. He didn’t do a lot of it these days, preferring other forms of soul searching, but he did say a few silent words. Dodger needed to be okay. He couldn’t lose this one constant in his hectic, always changing life. At least not until the dog had lived a long, fulfilled life at his side.

 If only his anxiety would let him think positively.

🌹OC Questionnaire: Lisandra🌹

a.k.a. The Gardener Reader from A Rose Among the Briars series

Full name

Lisandra Lannon

Preferred name/nickname

Lis, Lissy, The Flower Lady

Generally referred to as

Lis, Lovely Rose, Buttercup

Appearance

FACECLAIM: Here is a commission of Lis as well as this portrait I made using Artbreeder:

SEX: Female

HEIGHT: 5’3...short

WEIGHT: Lightweight but hearty where it counts

BUILD: A little curvy with some muscle in the arms and legs from gardening

HAIR: soft, long, and as red as rose. It comes down to the middle of her back. Sometimes worn down and other times in a braid. And always a flower tucked behind her ear or a flower crown atop her head.

SKIN: White. Smooth and sunkissed in some places. A little rough around the hands from gardening but soff everywhere else.

EYES: Peridot Green like the stem of a rose. They always seem to sparkle with mirth. Long eyelashes.

MOUTH: small mouth with plump lips and slightly crooked teeth lightly stained from copious amounts of tea.

NOSE: small and rounded with just barely pointed on the tip and small nostrils.

HANDS: small with clipped fingernails, but nothing fancy since they’ll just end up getting dirty while gardening. A little rough but softer than one expects thanks to great skin care.

FEET: small and dainty. Well trimmed and painted nails since they don’t get the brunt of damage from gardening. Soft and smooth thanks to pedicures.

SCARS: One on her right knee from landing on some sharp rocks while falling off an old rickety bridge. Another on the palm of her right hand from deflecting an object being thrown at her. And a few small ones from gardening.

CLOTHES: Cottage and Rustic Chic. Lots of dresses and flowery patterns.

OTHER FEATURES: To be determined.

OTHER NOTABLE FEATURES: To be determined.

Speech

VOICECLAIM: To be determined.

ACCENT: Some country twang creeps out every now and then.

VERBAL TICS: She has a tendency to use flowey puns a lot.

LANGUAGE: English, Latin, French, and the local dialect of her hometown.

ARTICULATION: Very articulate when explaining things, especially if it’s about flowers or a subject she enjoys immensely.

EDUCATION: Her words tend to be mellifluous depending on the topic of conversation, but doesn’t rely on an extensive vocabulary to do so.

LAUGHTER: Sounds like tinkling bells on the wind, and she laughs quite often every day.

GRUMP: Not very often. She’s more than likely to pout or grumble softly when annoyed.

BREATHING: She tends to gasp and sigh a lot.

Mannerisms

FACE: Very expressive face. Has a hard time hiding emotions on her face.

HANDS: Very expressive hands. Moves a lot while talking.

LEGS/FEET: Stays pretty still. Kicking/twirling the ground with her foot if nervous.

EMOTIONAL OUTBURSTS: Gets a little teary eyed before straight up crying when upset, and jumps/bounces around with joy when really excited.

HABITS: She hums a lot while gardening, cooking, cleaning etc. She fiddles with her hair a lot and bites her lip as a nervous habit.

POSTURE: Pretty good posture with a little slump when fully relaxed or sad.

WALKING POSTURE: Has a little skip in her step, sometimes does a little twirl if she’s really happy.

SITTING POSTURE: Legs crossed at the ankles and legs splayed out to the side if sitting on the ground.

PERSONAL SPACE: Doesn’t have much of a personal bubble and respects others personal space.

SPACIAL AWARENESS: A little clumsy when taken by surprise.

OTHER: Has a tendency to throw flower showers randomly.

Health

DIET: A lot of home cooked meals. Well balanced with a lot of fresh produce and herbs from her garden. Breakfast food is her favorite and tends to be really sweet. Loves making pastries and desserts. Usually remembers to eat unless really distracted by work.

SLEEP: Sleeps regularly. Tries to keep a sleep schedule, but sometimes stays up late. Usually takes a short nap after a hard day of gardening.

EXERCISE: A little exercise by walking around the city. Does a little yoga if the weather is bad.

ACTIVITY: Works really hard. Tends to work past the point of exhaustion if she’s really determined and motivated.

CLEANLINESS: Regular baths and showers with a skin care regimen for her hands.

ODOUR: Sweet, warm, and slightly floral.

MEDICINAL DRUGS: Takes medicine for irregular menstrual cycles.

NARCOTICS: No.

ADDICTIONS: No.

ILLNESS: No.

INJURIES: Her knee still hurts every now and then.

PARASITES: No.

OTHER: To be determined.

Personal

INTROVERT/EXTROVERT?: An introverted extrovert. Very outgoing and expressive, but has been a little introverted for the past few years.

OPTIMIST/PESSIMIST: Definitely an optimist.

GENDER: Female.

SEXUALITY: She has no set preference in regards to sex and/or genger. As long as they’re a very passionate person. Any kind of display of intentional cruelness or overbearing/manipulative control instantly turns her off. 

ROMANTIC: A huge sucker for romance, both giving and receiving all the romantic attention. Has dreams of being married one day and maybe even a kid if she’s lucky enough.

MEMORY: Pretty good memory but can be a little forgetful about certain things like returning borrowed books.

PLANNING: She’s good at planning and tends to stick with it up to a point. Has no problems going with the flow if it doesn’t go quite as planned and has been known to leap before looking from time to time.

PENSIVE: She reflects a little while gardening when not daydreaming or really upset about something.

INTUITION: Has really good intuition, which is why she uses it a lot when solving a problem.

PROBLEM SOLVING: Pretty good at it as long as it allows for thinking outside the box.

GOALS: To bring a smile upon everyone’s face with every bloom she grows. And she does this by selling her flowers and arrangement through her online business.

INSECURITIES: She’s a little insecure about the color of her hair since being made fun of by her classmates in her hometown. This is the center of her deep insecurity about being abandoned and left alone. She handles it pretty well behind smiles, but doesn’t go out of her way to hide it when people ask about it.

ACHIEVEMENTS: She’s very proud of starting her own online business called Flower Showers.

ANXIETY: the unknown beneath deep water and the thought of her loved ones being in danger.

OVERWHELMED: She only feels like things are too much when she’s really stressed.

SELF-HELP: She’s always very patient when she tackles life’s problems.

COMFORTS: Gardening, Baking, and Smelling Flowers

BAD HABITS: She pulls her hair a lot.

PHILOSOPHY: Not very religious. She believes you should only do unto others what you would do unto yourself and that kindness will always bring happiness to not only your life but other’s life as well.

TRIGGERS: Deep water and loud shouting.

The Past

PARENTS/GUARDIANS: She loved her mother, but she felt very hurt and confused when her mother left her at such a young age. She got along well with her grandmother, but her grandfather was always so cold around her.

SCHOOL: She did very well in school and still got a lot of attention despite being the outcast of the town.

ADOLESCENCE: That time of her life was okay, but she didn’t like all the sudden attention she got after puberty.

LEAVING HOME: It was bittersweet but necessary. She couldn’t make her dreams come true in her hometown and her grandpa made it very clear that she was no longer welcome, so she left to live a better life.

FURTHER EDUCATION: She went to college to study plants and flowers, but ended up taking a few business courses as well.

FIRST JOB: A baker and waitress at the local pizzeria/bakery shoppe in her hometown.

LIFE EVENTS: Her mother leaving her with the grandparents definitely changed her life early on. Giving her grandmother the first flower she ever grew by herself made her want to grow flowers to bring smiles to people’s faces as her life’s goal. Her grandpa crossing the line during a heated argument convinced her to leave her hometown after she graduated.

WORST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: Her grandpa crossed the line and hurt her.

BEST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: She told her darling devil “I love you.”

LESSONS: Sometimes you have to endure the dark murky depths to truly appreciate the light of life, and that the bittersweet parts of your life can be sweetened with better memories.

LOOKING BACK: If Lis could re-play her life and do something differently, she would not go to the lake that one foggy day.

Relationships

FAMILY: The crew at Devil May Cry are pretty much her family now.

FRIENDSHIPS: She had one close friend in her hometown, but she soon lost contact with him after she moved away. Since then, she’s never really had any close friends until meeting Vergil and the rest of the crew. She makes friends very easily with all sorts of people if given the chance.

FRIENDS IN NEED: She will always be there with tea, baked goods, and flower showers to help cheer up her friends. She’s also a great listener and sometimes offers some quirky advice that is oddly comforting.

NEEDING A FRIEND: She’s gotten so used to being alone, so it doesn’t even cross her mind to seek someone out for help and support. Which is why some of the crew have learned to check up on her whenever they feel that she needs a helping hand.

ANNOYANCES: She’s a very patient woman, so arguments rarely happen on her side. But she does tend to be a bit passive aggressive when annoyed.

ROMANCE: She’s very honest and had no problem wooing people with genuine compliments along with the proper flowers that have the perfect message. She’s attracted to people with a huge passion for whatever drives them.

MARITAL PROBLEMS: She’s not married, but she would be the type to air out the problem and talk it through with her partner.

ADVERSARIES: She doesn’t tolerate bigotry or cruelty of any kind.

ENEMIES: Anyone who derives joy from suffering will immediately be seen as an enemy in her eyes.

STRANGERS: She’s respectful of strangers since her job always brings around a lot of different people. Even when some of them are rude she’ll always have a smile on her face.

FUN STUFF: She loves to chat over tea, bake, read books, listen to music, trade stories, and explore new places as well as go for walks in familiar places.

DATING: It doesn’t matter where they are or what they’re doing so long as she’s with her romantic partner. But she does have a fondness for intimate settings where it's just the two of them alone.

BEST FRIEND: Her and Kyrie have become very fast friends while working together on the flowers for Kyrie’s wedding.

LOVE: Vergil will always be the darling devil of her heart.

WORST ENEMY: Invasive plants and garden pests that eat her precious flowers.

Interactions

MINGLING: She’s quite the social butterfly if given the chance to spread her wings.

COMFORT LEVELS: She’s very comfortable talking to people since that’s part of her job. The only time she’s uncomfortable is when people are being rude or touching without her permission.

PHYSICAL: She loves to give hugs, but only if someone is comfortable with that. She also tends to pat arms as well as lean onto arms and shoulders.

GROUPS: She does very well in groups and doesn’t mind hanging around in big crowds.

OPENNESS: She opens up very easily up to a certain extent. It takes her time to feel comfortable enough to talk openly about her unusual childhood.

GENEROSITY: She loves to give flowers and baked goods to her close friends all the time. She would also be willing to lend money if needed. And everytime someone gives her a gift she always claims that they don’t have to give her anything, but it secretly makes her really happy.

JEALOUSY: She rarely ever gets jealous unless it has something to do with gardening such as someone having better flowers than her, but even then it's very fleeting. When it comes to romantic jealousy she’ll pretend that it doesn’t bother her, but she will prove why she’s better through subtle means like giving her lover extra attention.

TEMPER: She has a lot of patience, but her tempers tend to be very explosive if she ever gets that angry.

EMPATHY: Very empathetic but does tend to speak brazenly without much thought sometimes.

AFFECTION: Flowers showers, gifting baked goods, hugs and kisses if appropriate.

DISTASTE: She gets a little tense, tightening around the eyes and mouth with some fist clenching, but she’s too sweet to speak about out loud until it becomes unbearable. She has been known to give a flower that represents her disdain.

ETIQUETTE: She’s polite and has great hospitality to anyone visiting her garden.

RESPONSIBILITY: She admits when she’s wrong and tries to make up for her mistakes.

SELF ESTEEM: She learned to stick up for herself ever since she was young and growing up in her hometown. This lovely rose is not afraid to show her thorns when she must.

CONFIDENCE: She’s very confident in who she is and her abilities, but she does care a little about what people think of her.

HONESTY: She always speaks her mind, sometimes bluntly so, but does try to word it in a way that won’t offend.

LEADER OR FOLLOWER: She’s a little of both. She can take the lead when it comes to her areas of expertise, but also knows when it's good to follow too.

PARTY TRICKS: She knows her way around a hoe...a gardening hoe that is and she can fold her tongue into the shape of a three leafed clover.

PRAISE: Compliments and praise always make her blush with joy.

FAILURES: Sometimes her curiosity makes her a bit nosy and she only sees the good in people, which can be seen as a little naive by those who only want to protect her.

CRITICISM: She takes it very well...unless it’s about her gardening. It’s pretty much a declaration of war if you criticise her garden.

INSULTS: It depends on who’s insulting her. She won’t bat an eye at some, but then get teary eyed at others.

EMBARRASSMENT: She gets the sudden urge to hide whenever she’s embarrassed. Her cheeks turn red and all she wants to do is get away. But she’s not easily embarrassed so this rarely happens.

FLIRTING: She can be a little flirty, but doesn’t even realize it.

ATTENTION SPAN: She can hold her concentration well when she puts her mind to it. But she has been known to be distracted from time to time.

SITUATIONS: She’s good at dealing with difficult social situations. Usually likes to mediate an argument or disagreement with calm serenity and flower showers.

Life

CAREER: Gardener and florist extraordinaire! Owner of the online business called Flower Showers and she absolutely adores it.

PROMOTION: She’s pretty happy where she is at the moment.

BOSS: She’s her own boss.

DUTY: Provides fresh flowers for bouquets and floral arrangements for special occasions. She also makes homemade tea blends and other floral products such as rose water, soap, and perfume.

TECH: She’s pretty knowledgeable about modern tech since her whole business is online.

POLITICS: Not very political.

COMBAT SKILLS: Doesn’t have much combat skills outside of using gardening tools.

HOME: Has a lot of well organized clutter. Very rustic with a lot of warm colors and floral patterns.

DAILY LIFE: Goes through the day-to-day tasks with a smile on her face.

INDEPENDENCE: Very independent since leaving her hometown.

COOKING: She’s a great cook. Her specialty is baking pastries.

BUILDING: Knows a little DIY around the house, but needs to call an expert if it’s more complicated. She also knows how to sew and can make all types of clothing.

CLEANING: She tries to keep her organized clutter neat and tidy, but sometimes she can forget to do some chores when she’s really busy or distracted from work or a creative endeavor.

SHOPPING: She likes to go shopping when the mood strikes her, but she’s prone to impulsive buying that just adds to the clutter of her house.

DRIVING: She drives a dark pastel blue Volkswagen Beetle with pink and red floral decals.

FINANCES: She’s financially stable and pays her bills on time, but some are on automatic pay since she has a habit of forgetting sometimes.

MARRIAGE: Not married but wouldn’t mind getting hitched with the right person and spending their life together in total bliss.

KIDS: No kids but maybe one day.

PETS: No pets but some of the critters in her garden have names.

DEPENDANTS: No.

LAW: Not much trouble with law.

COURT: Had to go there to claim her inheritance from her mother.

PRISON: No.

TRAVELLING: She hasn’t had much of a chance to travel, but she would love to in the future.

MEDICAL: She begrudgingly goes to doctor and dentist when she has to, but gets really nervous when they have to use needles.

ILLNESS: No.

WORRIES: She worries about her loved ones when they are away for a long time.

PEACE: She doesn’t mind peace and quiet, but prefers to have a little noise like soft music or birds chirping in her garden in the background.

PARTYING: She doesn’t go out to party much, but doesn’t mind if it’s for some kind of celebration. She prefers to stay in and just hang out with a small group of friends.

HOBBIES: Gardening is not only her job but her favorite hobby as well. She also likes to make cute flowery decorations for her baked goods, flower embroidery, and playing the piano.

I used this detailed character meme here to fill this all out (the OP’s tumblr is either deactivated or on private so I cannot provide the link there) 

[ @lambentlodestar & @hyaciiintho​​ / —– COLOURS ]     A C C E P T I N G !!

Baby blossoms? for the color ask.

//Olive, Currant, and Baby Blossoms !!// 

olive: is your muse prone to feeling envious of others? if yes, what is it that they typically feel envious over? currant: what's something that absolutely disgusts your muse (can be a person, place, thing, ect)? baby blossoms: does your muse have a favourite scent? what is it, and why?

so when these were sent in yesterday, i thought about them all, but now i seem to have forgotten what i wanted to talk about so forgive me if.... i’m a little distracted or not descriptive in these.

OLIVE: simply put -- NO. not really. that being said, he can STILL feel envious, it just happens far & few in between. though if i had to be honest i think its not that he’s envious of others but rather what they have. for the most part, he wants to be free. & before you say, ‘why khepri! isn’t he free to do whatever? like, he smashes pots! he’s totally allowed to do whatever & whenever he wants.’ No. just no..... allow me to explain. 

link is NOT free. he is BOUND by duty under farore. there is no freedom for him. he is the representation of courage & he has the brand of the gods. there is absolutely NO way that he considers himself free. he is at the mercy of the gods & their antics. he’s hylia’s chosen hero & he has to follow through with what THEY’VE told him to do. & after he kills ganon? it’s just pretty much them spitting in his face & telling him that he’s not needed anymore. & yet they still expect so much of him. he’s tired. he’s VERY tired. & he just wants.... to be happy & free. so anybody who has that, he can get a little envious with. but he never really... acts on it. not unless they’re being an asshole about it. cause let me tell you, he will get annoyed with you REALLY FAST if you flaunt what you have been blessed with. but aside from that? naw. he’s just tired. & he doesn’t really get super jealous of others. he’s pretty.... chill about it like 99% of the time.

read more cause it gonna get a bit long.

CURRANT: to be fair... it’s very HARD to pinpoint what link is naturally repulsed by. this goes for like literally anything. since he will pretty much put anything in his mouth to eat/drink, its like... *shrug emoji* for food/liquids. that being said.... slimy things DO kinda give him the shivers. also, keep in mind that he will legit drink purple chu jelly over and over again if he has nothing else on him. so... food? yea. nothing there that disgusts him. but you know what. there are other things that could potentially disgust him.

okay but real talk. something that he absolutely abhors is like... the idea of... giving into the deepest & darkest desires. like... giving up and letting evil control you. mind you that... link has his OWN demons that he fights off internally. like.. he never wants to give into the dark -- and yes, there is a dark part of him there, he’s not immune to it. but anything that is like... inherently evil he hates so much. which is funny to think cause... he isn’t repulsed by ganon -- in fact he pities him!!! but its not the people that disgusts him. its the concept... of just that evil taking over & control of you. that’s what he hates. for example.... when he battle’s the twilit monsters, he genuinely is DISGUSTED with the fact that such darkness can be so harmful to others. he doens’t want to KILL anybody who’s been taken over by that dark energy -- its more like he wants to HELP them fight that evil away. unfortunately some people aren’t strong enough for that, so they have to be ended by his hand. but it’s his merciful way of freeing them. 

Please please don’t mistake the idea that link HATES bad guys. he just hates the EVIL thats taken over them. as i have said, link sees the goodness in people no matter what. he tries to. i wrote a drabble once about how he HATES killing shadow beasts. he hates it cause.... they were once midna’s people. HE’S KILLING PEOPLE. the same goes for stalfos. but honestly there is no other way around it, he has to kill them in order to help them & rest their souls.

but anyway, i digrest. TL;DR: link is disgusted by the concept of evil/darkness.

BABY BLOSSOMS: things are looking tight on my end, & gotta get ready for work here soon so i will try to keep this brief. but he has actually TWO! well i suppose there’s a lot of scents that he loves so asking if he has a favourite scent is hard cause... theres SO MANY. ( it also very much depends on which verse/timeline  we are looking at ) but if we are looking at his main verse... 2 VERY different things.

first one -- he.... loves the smell of home. and honestly this can be taken two different ways. the first is quite literally HOME. ordon village. it definitely has that country smell it it. but its... not FARM smell. its more like... wheaty if that makes sense??? idk my brain is fried and i suppose i can go into this later but really ordon just has that rustic smell to it. doesn’t smell bad at all. sometimes its a bit crisp, but its not at all like... the towns you smell. sometimes it’s sweet. you can smell the pies sitting on the windows, cooling. just overall very homey. not to mention all the damn pumpkins give ordon village a rather pumpkin-y smell.

but you know... home can also... be taken as... ‘home is where the heart is’ so legit. he loves the smell of ‘HOME.’ what that home is is really dependent cause.... its definitely a person. or rather, its just something that he feels so SAFE around.... but you know talking about this point brings up point number 2.

second smell -- midna. like.. she’s not a smell but at the same time its like... he loves her smell... he LOVES midna’s scent. he feels so much at ease just... smelling her at times. and i cannot describe what she smells like to him cause she legit jsut smells like MIDNA. thats it that’s literally all there is to it. you can’t ask him well what does she smell like cause he’ll just say midna. don’t scold him about it cause he’ll get a little butthurt about it. but really that’s all there is to it. but let me tell you. when she leaves.... he’s so sad and he has absolutely NOTHING to compare to her smell... and he’s kinda forgotten what she smells like. but he knows that when he does see her again, he’s just gonna be so happy to smell her scent again cause... its like that high you get from smelling something SO GOOD. he gets so happy.... like nothing else matters, you know?

anyway... again this was a bit rushed, but hella maybe one day i’ll get more into it. though for now i must leave it at this cause i have work in 30 minutes :’)

Title: Homeless at Home Fandom: Red Dead Redemption Genre: fanfiction, chapters, angst, reader insert, fluff, slow burn, friends-to-lovers, pre-game Characters: Young!Arthur Morgan, Dutch Van Der Linde, Hosea Mathews, Arthur Morgan/ Reader, Female reader, Arthur x Reader, Arthur Morgan x Reader, Arthur/ You, Young!reader Chapter: One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight

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(( Hi I’ve been very busy with college and I’ve had these chapters sitting around so I might as well post them!! Thanks for all the support!! ))

Description:

There were five horses that you could see. Two on the left and three on the right. The first two in the left stalls where females, both working horses and way too big for you to ride. You walked a little further into the stables and found two other horses facing towards you. A white and brown spotted female and a grey male. Both small and friendly looking. Your attention, however, was caught by the last horse in the further stall deep within the stables. You could only see his rear end, he was facing the wrong way. His coat was bright blonde. Warm and yellow like the sun, but he had a dark fluffy tail as black as the night. A mustang. You had seen plenty like him in the wild. 

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The sun was falling slowly from its high throne, falling into the mountain range above. The wild colors of reds and blues and yellows bloomed across the sky making a messy painting of a sunset. The cool valley was a lot different from the hot desert but you welcomed the change with open arms. It was a bit chilly. A sneaky little breeze worked past the nape of your neck and caused you to pulled tighter on your thin sweater. You could barely remember the boiling heat you left behind in the summer sun of Arizona. A lot had changed, you reminded yourself as you pulled a pair of fingerless gloves from your pocket and put them on.

You had made it to Nevada, just as Dutch had wanted some few months ago. But you didn’t get there according to Dutch’s original plans. Actually, you didn’t get according to plan at all.

It happened a few months ago, you could barely remember the rush of it all. Dutch had some… Business partner named Colm O’Driscoll. Apparently, Dutch cut him short by a lot of money in some bank robbery. You got to meet Colm and his brother one night when they stormed into your camp during dinner. They demanded money and a lot of it.

When Dutch stood tall and waved his hands in peace, saying he had no such money and made no such promise, Colm swore he’d be back and that he had better have his money. Dutch took the threat as if it were a train heading straight towards him at maximum capacity.

That night he made you all pack everything as quickly as possible. Susan and Arthur did most of the heavy lifting while Hosea ran ahead on horseback to scout a path out of the county. Dutch kept you close to his side all night, making sure you were within arm’s length. You didn’t remember much after that, you were so tired that you slept half the trip.

Colm and his brother chased you and your gang out of Dodge, and you were pretty sure he was following you north into Nevada too. You left in such a hurry in the middle of the night. You still think about it. Much to your surprise though, Annabelle came with you too.

When Dutch told her of his true nature, which was that he was a wanted criminal across the country, she didn’t shy away and leave him like most of his other suitors. She insisted on coming with you, she left her book store behind for her sister to take care of.

Several months had passed now. You were slowly returning to your usually chipper self. Ever since that drunk assaulted you… You changed. You were more quiet than normal, and you were very depressed. You couldn’t stop thinking about it, about your mother, about your father, about how fucked up your life was ever since those bastards killed your parents. You were so stuck in your rut that you nearly didn’t notice your 13th birthday approaching.

The hot desert summer was replaced with cool and shady autumn. Dutch had taken you to the furthers corner of Nevada. 40 miles south of Oregon, 35 miles east of California, in the shadow of Paradise Mountain, you rested in the grassy valley known as Paradise Valley. A few miles within was the bustling busy farming town known as Sugartown. It was nice to return to a climate you were more familiar with. Autumn was always your favorite season. The colors, the smell, the food. You loved it all.

The gang wanted to do something special for your birthday. They wanted a party, but you asked them to keep it simple. Today, however, you were going to face another fear. You had gone to town with Hosea, he was picking up some supplies from the general store, and you asked him if you could run off a bit on your own. He was wary, unsure if you could handle yourself alone seeing as last time you nearly gotten killed. But he let you go after he gave you a spare revolver he had on him. You knew you wouldn’t need it.

Ever since you told Dutch how badly you wanted to be a doctor, he had started collecting medical books for you. More so Annabelle found those books for you, seeing as she was a better bookworm than either you or Dutch. She was lucky to find a few on your trip up to Sugartown, but there wasn’t a book store here much to your disappointment. The books she got you though were not a lot of help. They were outdated and old and surely could use an up keeping. They mostly taught you very basic medical concepts that anyone could know.

You stood outside a building, staring at its door. Your eyes flicker to the sign above that read ‘Doctor’s Office.’ The biggest fear you had right now was stepping inside that building and asking the doctor inside if he had any old books he’d like to give up. Another fear was that he would say no to you. One, because you were still a child, and two… you were female. You could always remember all the men that gave your mother a hard time simply because she was a woman. She gave up on her dream to be a doctor, moved as far away as possible from her family, and became a stay at home mom who occasionally made medicine from local fauna and sold them.

“Okay,” You told yourself, “You can do this. You got this,” You hyped yourself up, biting your lip, and then rushed towards the door. The second you got near it you made a sharp U-turn and waltzed back into the street. This was going to be hard. You didn’t have a lot of time. Hosea would be getting done with his supply run soon. Taking a big deep breath, you held it in and ran for the door again. This time you managed to freeze on the spot with your hand barely touching the door nob. You counted to three then turned the nob and opened the door.

It was old and rustic inside the little doctor’s office. There was a man sitting behind a counter reading a newspaper. He looked old, but not elderly. He was stuck somewhere in-between. He looked nice though, so that was a plus. He stood up, folded his paper and greeted you with a smile.

“Hey there, miss,”

“Hi,” You sounded small like a shy little mouse. You kept your arms folded across your chest and held tightly to your arms, “Um… I’m sorry to bother you.”

“Not at all,” He wasn’t very tall. Much shorter than Dutch or Arthur, and he had warm creamy brown hair that matched his shabby handlebar mustache, “What can I get for you?” His glasses were thick and reflected the low light coming in from the afternoon sun.

“Um- I.. I was wondering if you had any books you’d like to get rid of?” You pressed your lips into a thin line and gnawed on your inner cheek, “I-I.. I’m collecting them for educational reasons. Um-… Like books on medicine? And how to make them?” The doctor seemed very surprised by your request. You rushed out some fumbled words saying, “They aren’t for me! I… It’s for my church?” Your lie sounded like a question and the man raised a brow.

“Sure,” He said slowly while observing your bazaar behavior, “Let me check in my office,” He disappeared for several minutes. You stood in your spot, awkward and nervous while biting your tongue and grinding your teeth.

You looked around the office. It was cute and humble. There were photos on the wall but you couldn’t make out who of. There was the counter that you stood behind, then a doorway behind it that lead down to a hallway that you couldn’t see the end of. Some soft comfy chairs cluttered against the adjacent wall of the counter. There were some shelves on the walls too with dozens of jars and cans that you guessed were medicines.

He came back with three very large books. They looked old, but not as old as the one’s Annabelle got for you. He set them down on the low counter between you and him,

“What’s your name, miss?” When your eyes bugged wide, he went on to say, “Oh- not to pry or anything. You just remind me of someone I use to know. You look a lot like this woman I used to date, I worked for her father in New York City.”

You approached the counter with caution, “Um.. I’m Edna. Edna Lancaster,” You lied on the spot, not wanting to give away who you were. His words boggled your mind however, “You said you're from New York City?”

He slid the books towards your end of the counter, “Mhm. I use to work for this man named Harrison McDuffy. You look a lot like his daughter Blaire,” You tried so very hard not to gasp. He just spoke your mother’s name, her maiden name and your grandfather’s name, “A shame. I heard she and her husband died. They never found her daughter though,”

With care, you took the heavy books from the counter. They stood stacked against your chest, “You must have been close. That’s so sad to hear.” You’re lips twitched and quivered into an awkward smile that flustered back and forth between that and a grimace. The books were a bit heavier than you expected.

“A bit,” Said the doctor as he took off his glasses and smuggled them clean with a part of his coat, “I hope you can find a good home for those books,” He pointed a free finger at your stack in your arms.

“Oh-” You sucked in a sharp breath, “I will- for sure! Definitely!” You were acting a little… odd. Perhaps it was a mix between the weight of the books pulling your arms down and the odd and creepy information you have learned from this man, “Thank you so much!” You spun quickly on your heel and hurried to get to the door.

As you lightly kicked the door open and breezed past it into the cool air you heard the man call out, “Come back any time!” You made a mental note to never go back there ever again. The books strained your arms and caused cramps to start forming between your shoulders. Where the hell was Hosea and the wagon? You tracked back to the outer edges of town where you last saw him.

Frantically you looked around. Your heart started to flutter in the wrong direction. Were was Hosea? Did he forget you? You hated how worried and tense you had become in the last half year. From your parent's death to the drunk bastard who assaulted you… Life was throwing a lot of hard balls at your way. You hoped it didn’t get worse. You weren’t sure if your worried mind could handle it.

Suddenly you felt a tap on your shoulder and you let out a small yip and turned around. Fear washed away and formed into heat that soaked your cheeks. A scarlet blush of embarrassment covered your face at that animal like sound that came out of you seconds before, “Hosea!” You whisper-yelled, “You scared me!”

The older man chuckled and without warning took those books from your arms. You wanted to carry them because you were mature and your own person but mostly stubborn, but you were relieved to finally breathe again. Your arms hung like wet noodles by your sides as you walked with Hosea.

He seemed overly happy, more than usual, “Where’d you get these, girl?” He quirked a smile and raised a brow, “Steal ‘em?” He let out a laugh but you didn’t.

Your little brows furrowed together, “No,” You quipped out, “I asked for them. They’re medicine books,” A flash of your gaze ran over Hosea. You shared a glance for a second before you rounded the street corner where you spotted the wagon.

“Oooh,” He sounded out, “More to add to the collection, hm?” He had gotten to the wagon’s back end and tucked them in between two egg crates, “How many of those books do you have now? Seven?”

“Yeah,” You walked around the wagon and towards the front end, “I’ve read the other ones so much that I needed a few more,” You started to step up into the seats above when Hosea called out to you.

“Hold on a second, (Y/N),” Hosea came up from behind you and spoke while you climbed back down, “We’ve got one more thing to get.”

When your feet smacked back onto the dirty and dusty road you asked Hosea, “What else do we need to get? It looks like we’ve got enough supplies for a few weeks,” The back wagon was jammed packed full of crates and jugs and boxes, “I don’t think we’ve got room for anything else back there.”

“That’s alright,” The two of you started walking again, “This doesn’t go in a wagon,” You wondered where you were going and looked at each store that you passed and didn’t go into. Was it money? Jewelry? Cigars? Was it something small enough to fit in your pocket if it didn’t need to go in a wagon? You weren’t very sure but what you did notice was that you were getting close and closer to the stables in the center of Sugartown. Did he need horse supplies? Hm.

A man was waiting in front of the large open stable doors. The smell of horse, hay, and manure wafted from the darkness within. The stable boy approached Hosea and they met each other halfway with a firm handshake and a smile.

“Hosea!” He exclaimed as if he hadn’t seen the man in many years, “It’s good to see you again!” They both laughed at that with low and loud chuckles.

“What can I say, David, you’re a very handsome man with very handsome horses,” Another fit of chuckles at the inside jokes you just didn’t understand. Who was this man?

Why had you never seen or heard of this… David before? Hosea’s voice snapped you out of your confused and dazed state, “Is Bessie still around? She said she had to leave but I wanted to catch her before she ran off and closed up for the day.” Bessie, another person you didn’t know.

You wondered why you were here and why Hosea brought you along. It sounded like he was being a humble con man by befriending these people and was surely working towards their demise as well. Don’t mistake the mild manner Hosea for being as sweet and innocent as he lets the world see. You’ve seen Hosea lose his temper faster than Dutch, and was scarier too. At least with Dutch, it’s a lot of yelling and finger-pointing…

Hosea was the kind of guy to go missing when made angry or mad. Then he’d come back with a loaded gun, point it at your back, and make you apologize to him publicly while threatening your life. You’ve seen him do this twice to some lawmen before. You couldn’t believe it… two cops standing side by side with smiles as wide as the grand canyon, sweating bullets, while happy smiling Hosea stood behind them with a gun in each hand at each spine, he’d shoot them paralyzed, which was worse than death.

You shook away the vivid memory and followed Hosea and David inside the stables. They were chatting amongst each other and you didn’t care to listen. You stared at the horses inside. There wasn’t that many, just a handful here and there. A woman came from one of the empty stalls, she wore clothes just like you. A poofy and loose tan blouse and was tucked into her pants, which in turn was tucked into her knee-high riding boots. She looked wealthy, happy, and like she enjoyed what she was doing. This was Bessie. Her hair was a deep oak brown that bounced around in thick lockets and curls.

The smile on Bessie’s face went from mild to extravagant the second she locked eyes with Hosea. Who has the woman and why haven’t you met her before? How long has

Hosea knew her? She quickly left her work, leaning the pitchfork on the wall and scurried over.

“Hosea! I was just about to close up!” She stopped right in front of him, hands folded away as she crossed her arms, and smiled wide again, “Is this (Y/N)?” Bessie looked at you and you felt the urge to stick your tongue out at her, but you kept put.

He placed a hand on your head like he always did, and Hosea nodded, “Sure is. She’s the one and only,” He sounded proud to introduce you to this woman, “She’s very bright and I think today is her birthday?” No… No!

You looked up at the man, the cheeky grin on his face, “No, Hosea I said-” It didn’t matter what you said. Bessie seemed to already know it was your birthday too. She cut you off with a little giggle.

“Oh! Is it? Why that’s so neat. How old are you (Y/N)?” Well, at least she was nice. Bessie stared at you with bright green eyes.

“Um- uh.. I’m 13.” God you hated it. You hated saying it. You didn’t want to be 13. You didn’t want to be 12 either. You wanted to be 11 years old, two summers ago when your parents took you to Canada for your birthday. So much has changed since then. You honestly hated it and you hated thinking about it. Never again would you have another good birthday. So long as your parents were dead, you were sure every birthday to come would suck and make you just as depressed as you were today.

However, something was about to change, something that would change your spoiled opinion on birthdays. Bessie looked at you, joy on her face and light and life and oddly love breathed from her skin and oozed into the air. Her kindness was toxic. What was it about women that made them love you so much? Maybe it was the fact that you looked like a little boy for the most part. Maybe they found it cute that a little girl was dressed like a little boy. But Bessie wasn’t wearing a dress or hats or gloves or heals or anything ladylike, though she was as beautiful as a princess despite that.

“(Y/N),” You stared at her, “Would you like a birthday present?” You wanted to say no but when you gazed up at Hosea, he beamed down at you and nodded his head silently.

Everyone was grossly happy while you were wallowing in depression.

“Sure,” You finally said after a moment or two, “I guess, yeah.”

“Well,” Hosea started, “How would you like a horse?” He asked you, a hand now at your shoulder as he gave a gentle squeeze, “It’s about time you started learning how to ride.”

Everything made sense now. All the smiles, the kindness, it was all for your birthday after all. Everyone wanted to spoil you but you just really wanted a hug and someone to cry on.

But a horse? A real one? Your own? For a brief second, you had a flash of thoughts squeeze around in your mind. You’d have a new friend and a new responsibility. You saw yourself learning how to ride a horse, loving the gentle beast and exploring the world by horseback. How much was it going to cost though? You didn’t want the gang spending money on you when you did nothing to bring money to the gang. You felt conflicted.

Your hesitation caused Bessie to inch closer to you, a smile still on her face, “You can pick out anyone you want from my stables today if you like.” You did kind of like the sound of that. You looked to Hosea for reassurance and he pressed a hand into your back to walk you forward.

There were five horses that you could see. Two on the left and three on the right. The first two in the left stalls where females, both working horses and way too big for you to ride. You walked a little further into the stables and found two other horses facing towards you. A white and brown spotted female and a grey male. Both small and friendly looking. Your attention, however, was caught by the last horse in the further stall deep within the stables. You could only see his rear end, he was facing the wrong way. His coat was bright blonde. Warm and yellow like the sun, but he had a dark fluffy tail as black as the night. A mustang. You had seen plenty like him in the wild. 

“What about this one?” You pointed at the golden mustang while watching Bessie’s smile slowly fall.

“Oh-… he’s.. I wouldn’t pick him,” She met up with you as you stared into the stall. You could see his mane, just as black as his tail, “He’s not broken in yet.”

“Broken in?” The knowledge you had on horses was limited. Sure, you could go out into the world and have little to no problem identifying which plant is what, but horse terms? Broken in? Colic? Chaps? Spurs? Stirrups? That was all… cowboy stuff. Outlaw stuff. You didn’t know those things.

Hosea had managed to join you as well in the back end of the stables, “Means you can’t ride him. He’s a wild horse that hasn’t been beaten into obedience yet,” It sounded awful when he put it like that.

You took a few steps forward then approached the stall. The mustang inside swung his ear around towards you, “He’s pretty,” You said quietly, “He does look a little wild,” Wild and majestic and beautiful. To your surprise, and everyone else’s, the mustang slowly turned around in his stall. He looked beautiful, yes, but sad. He looked hurt and very much broken despite what Bessie and Hosea said.

The two adults shared a worried glance. This horse was foul and temperamental. Hosea had tried to ride him once when Bessie first got him. That was an awfully painful day he didn’t want to remember. Since then the mustang had stubbornly kept to himself and avoid most humans he came in contact with. Yet here he was, now sticking his head out of his stall and sniffing towards you. His head was handsome as well. The mustang’s snout was black but faded into the warm gold of the rest of his coat.

Bessie was about to pull you back, fearing the temperamental beast might try to snap his jaws at you. Yet nothing like that happened. You raised a hand and met the horse halfway while he sniffed at your fingers before trying to lick them. Maybe he wanted something to eat? He wasn’t that mean, “You guys are liars, he’s so nice,” You glanced back at Hosea and Bessie who was wide-eyed surprised.

Your smile was small and shy and you turned back to the horse, “You just want a friend,” You said quietly, “Right?” You stared into one of his eyes and saw your own reflection. It was decided then, and nothing could change your mind. This was the horse for you. Bessie tried for a second time to talk you out of picking the mustang but she couldn’t shake you away from him. There wasn’t a mean old animal in him, just a scared and lonely one, much like yourself.

Not once did the mustang fight you when you pulled at the ropes that made the make-shift reins around his neck. He slowly followed you out of the stall as you guided him towards the front of the stables. Hosea had picked out a saddle for you but you refused to put it on the mustang or even ride him. You weren’t ready yet and you wanted to love this animal not make him a tool.

“Not gonna ride him then?” Hosea asked.

You shook your head as you watched David the stable boy carry a saddle down the road and through town to where the wagon was. Hosea stood beside you, “Not yet,” You said, “I will after we’ve had him around for a bit,” You didn’t know much about horses, or animals even, but you knew you had to respect them.

“Got a name?”

You hadn’t even thought of one. You looked deep into your mind, searching for a name for this majestic beast. The horse was standing behind you, minding his own business as he swatted flies away with his tail. You turned around and approached him, giggling a little when he bobbed his head and curled his lips and lapping out to smell your hand. He already looked a lot happier to be out of that stall.

“Callus… You look like a Callus,” You told the horse. His ears flicked towards you then away again. David had given you some sugar cubes that you dug out of your pocket and gave to him. It wasn’t a flattering name, but you liked it. And so his name was Callus.

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Everyone was so happy. Maybe it was just an excuse to party and drink, but everyone seemed to be enjoying your birthday a whole lot more than you. You sat on a log beside the open fire, a smile on your face despite how empty and fake it was. Callus was tucked away with all the other horses and you’d catch yourself looking at him every now and then. He was a bit of a bastard on the ride back home because he was tied behind the wagon and he kept trying to run away. You felt bad, you wanted to let him loose and run free but Hosea paid good money for him.

The new camp was right along a river deep in the woods not too far outside Sugartown. It was a good 15-minute ride back to camp. The shelter of the trees kept you away from the sun’s warm rays. Leaves had dried and turned bright colors. Red, yellow and orange leaves would flutter to the ground every now and then. Some blackberry bushes grew along the banks of the river and that was where you decided to put your tent. Once you had gotten back to camp and unloaded the supplies, everyone made sure to bask you in some kind of attention. Dutch and Annabelle had gotten you new clothes seeing as you were growing out of the ones you already had. You were very thankful because you honestly needed new clothes and they weren’t all that bad either. Susan had gotten you some real riding boots with spurs and everything. You’d be a made into the perfect little cowgirl before you even knew it. Arthur had greeted you with a smile and flagged you over towards the center of camp were food awaited.

The gang sat down at dinner with you, joking and laughing and singing songs. It was all very merry and you joined in from time to time. You didn’t want anyone to worry, and you didn’t want to bother anyone with your problems or how you felt deep inside. You had to be happy for them, they cared for you after all. Dutch had even offered you a drink of whiskey which you bravely and foolishly drank. It took everything in your power to not spit out the bitter and hot liquid. It stung on the way down and warmed your insides. Why did all these freaks enjoy this stuff? Ugh, you were not key on trying whiskey again for a long time.

That didn’t stop the rest of the gang from drinking. At some point in the night, you excused yourself away from them and over to your tent. You sat along the little bench you had outside the front curtains, looking over the spurs you had gotten. You flicked the little star and watched it spin, spin, spin then stop. You flicked it again, and again, and then held the spurs in your lap. Silence followed and filled your head while you blocked out the sound of Dutch’s low boisterous laughter mingled with Susan’s evil cackle.

Why couldn’t you have had one more birthday with them? Just one more year? Why couldn’t your parents… Why did they die? Why did it have to be them? Why you? Why you’re family? You traced your finger along the leather work in your spurs, wondering what life would be like if nothing ever happened. What would your mother have gotten you this year? Probably a new pair of shoes and a dress, with a doll and a book, like she did almost every year. Your father would have taken you out for lunch, gone into town and bought you candy and whatever else you wanted. At the end of the night, you’d all have dinner together, cuddle on the couch while your mother read stories from a book. You’d fall asleep with them there on the couch….

You missed them so much. You could feel the tears well up in your eyes. Why now? Why did it have to hurt so much now?

“(Y/n)?” Shit! Flustered and embarrassed you rubbed your eyes quickly. You made sure no tears had fallen or escaped.

“Y-yeah?” You looked up and over the little wall of blackberry bushes, you had between you and the camp. It was Arthur. You could barely make out his face in the dark. The only light you had came from the small lantern beside your feet. He made a little dip of his head, gesturing to the spot beside you.

You scooted over and made room for him as he passed by, “You disappeared,” His face was a little dirty. He had dirt smudged into his cheek and nose. His hair was looking a little longer too. It just barely curled around the back of his ears. Hosea had normally made sure to keep Arthur’s hair well groomed because Arthur was a little to stupid to remind himself sometimes. But lately, Hosea has been distracted by only what you could have guessed was Bessie.

He was right though, you had disappeared, “I’m just a little tired,” You lied.

“Bullshit,” Arthur sat down beside you and nudged you along the bench some more. You sat side by side, you could feel the warmth radiate off him in the places you touched,

“You normally don’t go to bed till well past one in the morning,”

How did he know that? You squinted at him, “I had a rough day,” You didn’t want to ask that question. He wasn’t wrong though. You did spend most nights awake and reading books. You rarely got any sleep nowadays. Nightmares were evil, tricky and sneaky creatures that had made themselves at home in your dreams, “Hosea made me get a freaking horse! That’s a lot to take in.”

For some reason, he laughed at that and you felt a small smile twitch on your lips, “Well, I guess that’s a lot. I stole my first horse,” He gave you a side glance with an awkward smile, “I’m surprised Hosea actually got the money to buy that horse for you. He must really like you, Dutch too.” You already knew that. You could see the love they had for you, they showed it in their own ways. The same for Susan and Annabelle. They all loved you for some odd reason. What was so great about you?

“They like you too,” You quipped, “We’re their kids to them,” That was the truth. They loved Arthur just as much as they loved you.

“Mhm, we always will be, I’m afraid,” The two of you shared an odd laugh. Arthur made himself busy though and dug around in that satchel he always had on him, “I didn’t come over here to just pester you though,” he said.

“Oh yeah?” You didn’t think he was pestering you.

“Yeah,” Arthur found what he was looking for and you watched his brows raise and a grin grow on his face, “I know you said no gifts, and not to make a big deal out of it but I got you something,” He had something in his hands that you couldn’t make out. You felt a heavy pit form in your chest.

“Come on Arthur- I thought at least you would listen to me. Everyone got me something already-”

“Stop it!” He waved a hand in the air and gave you this look of honesty, “You’re still a kid. Enjoy it,” At the same time he handed you a small box that could fit in your lap, “Open it.”

He was bossy, wasn’t he? You took in a deep breath, feeling the air fill your lungs and you breathed away the dark pit in your chest. Carefully you lifted the lid. It was hard to see, the light was limited in the dark, but you could make out two things.

A beautiful knife was sitting in the box, latched and sealed by its leather holster. It was beautiful because the handle was as white as snow with vivid flowers and skulls carved into it. The details were burned into the handle so that the dark black contrasted the satin white. You unhitched the latch holding the large blade in place. You watched the silver light reflect the midnight moon as you pulled the knife free. You could see a similar pattern etched into the blade that was on the handle. It was a large hunting knife.

“I know you aren’t to keen on keeping a gun on you- and… I thought you could use something to protect yourself with- And it comes in handy too,” Arthur’s 16-year-old voice was still awkward and broken in many places. He gazed away as you held the knife in your hands. Was he worried if you’d like it? You flipped it a few times slowly in your hands, looking over both sides. It was amazing. He stammered on saying, “You can stop borrowing mine now.”

There was one last thing in the box. You set the knife down and gently picked up the delicate little paper inside. It looked like he tore it from a journal. As you unfolded the note you could make out a ‘Have a Happy Birthday, (Y/n).’ With a drawing of a rosebud barely blooming on a thorny stem. He signed it with a small capital letter ‘A.’

“You drew this?” You looked up at him with raised brows.

“The art book helped a lot,” The book you got him that awful night… “I thought you’d like something pretty to hang up. I see you staring at roses a lot too.”

You looked back down at the drawing. It was really good, it looked like he really took his time on it. The petals were shaded well, and the stem looked as though it was hovering above the page. You felt a sad part of your heart crack open and break loose.

“They were my mother’s favorite flower,” Your voice was shallow and low, “She use to grow bushes all over the house… They’re all probably dead now.” You thought more about your mother and how much you missed her. She was everything to you, your role model and teacher. On today of all days, you missed her the most. You let out a heavy sigh and saw a tear fall that you didn’t even realize was there. It splatted onto the note and slowly stained into the page.

Arthur noticed rather quickly and leaned forward, “Hey-” He looked worried and confused, “What’s with the tears, kid?”

You tried your best to fight your sadness and keep them back, “I..” You opened your mouth then closed it, sighed and finally said, “I miss my mother… I wish she was here,”

A small sob slipped from your throat, “Everyone…” You sucked in a sharp and shaky breath. You felt a few more tears roll down your cheeks, “They’ve all been nice and they got me stuff but I still feel….” You were at a loss for words, “I feel bad,” You finally bubbled out.

It was hard to watch you cry. Arthur didn’t much like seeing your tears, especially in vain. But he understood your pain. He could feel in a deep locked part of his heart the pain it felt to grow older another year and miss everything you use to have. He missed his mother too, and he also hated his birthday. Every year it came around it just reminded him how much older he was and how much further away from his mother he got. He carefully wrapped an arm around you, unsure how to comfort you in such a dire time, but he tried his best.

“It’s alright,” He said as you leaned into his embrace, “It’s alright, (Y/n), you can feel bad.”

You shook your head, “I don’t want to. I want to go back- I don’t want to live like this. I want my parents, I want my home!” You started to sob even more. You couldn’t understand your own grief, it came sudden and in larger and larger waves. You felt like your world had already fallen apart and you had just only realized it. It wasn’t until now did you ever really let yourself grieve about your parent’s death. And you hated it, you felt awful, you felt a type of raw pain that couldn’t be healed.

Yet Arthur stayed put while he felt your pain. He didn’t stop you from crying, and he didn’t speak because he knew there was nothing he could do but just be there for you.

He sucked in a deep breath and as the air passed through his lungs and out of his body, he remembered how much he use to cry and how much he wished he has someone to hold him. This was the least he could do for you.

“I hate this,” You muttered quietly as you caught your breath, “I hate being alive.”

“Don’t say that,” Arthur spoke slowly but with a lot of emotion, “Don’t go down that hole,”

You sat up and rubbed your cheeks and eyes, you were still crying, “I do though. I hate it, I want… I want to be with my parents and that’s not here.” He knew what you were trying to say without saying it. Everyone noticed the change in you over the past few months. You had grown more quiet, you did your chores less often and slept very little and busied yourself with reading anything you could.

As you stared at the ground you could imagine the look on his face. One of those sad but concerned ones where his brows knit together slightly and a frown was pulling down his lips, “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you have us.” He was right, you didn’t want to hear that. You knew you had them and it was unfair to say this, but the gang wasn’t enough. The gang was actually the opposite of what you wanted but this is what you were stuck with. That’s not to say you didn’t care about all of them… they just… they weren’t your parents.

You took a chance and glanced up at him, he wasn’t even staring at you. He was looking towards the heart of camp, where the adults had started to chat quietly amongst themselves. Their voices sounded miles away. “I miss my ma every day,” Arthur said each word carefully like he planned them out in his head, “I think about her… Every day. And I try not to. The less I think about her…” He paused and scratched his jaw than his neck, “The more I feel like a regular person.” It sounded painful for him to admit, and his advice was bad but personal. He wasn’t very good at expressing himself… At least not vocally.

A lump formed in your throat and you swallowed it down while biting your inner cheek. You took a quick breath in and blinked, “I can’t stop thinking about her,” Your mother was never far from your thoughts, and recently, she was the only thing on your mind, “I… I want to be her… I want to be just like her and make her proud. I… How do I do that? Like this? Here?”

Arthur shook his head and shrugged, “Don’t think about it. Try your best not to at least. It’s what I do. I just try and remember my ma and how good she was, not what she wanted or if she was here or if this or if… anything. She’s gone. It’s hard to accept but… not thinking about it might be a step,” It wasn’t, not a healthy one at least. But it was the easy way out, just blocking out the thought of your mother, she was gone, she isn’t here. Don’t think about her. Don’t think about her, your father, your home, “Think about the gang,” Arthur said as if he was reading your mind, “Think about Dutch and what he wants and Hosea too. Listen to Susan, do your chores, leave the camp once in a while. Don’t stay in your tent all day hiding and only coming out to eat.” He had made his point. But he wasn’t lecturing you, he was speaking from experience. He could remember when he first joined the gang when Dutch took him in, and how hard it was to accept this new life, you were in the same boat.

Maybe you had gotten yourself into a rut too, “I know,” You admitted, knowing that you had abandoned your daily lifestyle “It’s not easy.”

“It’s not,” Arthur shifted around in his seat a bit, “We might not be family, (Y/n), but we’re all we got. You can leave any time you want, no one is forcing you to stay. We didn’t kidnap you, we just took you in because it was the right thing to do,” You heard that many times before. The right thing to do… that was one of Dutch’s ‘morals’ and teachings and he preached it often.

It had been so hard accepting this new life. It had almost been a year now. Almost, it’d be a year in the spring. The first few months where fun because you escaped death, but after that is when the reality set in that your parents were gone. You were just lucky enough to get robbed by the nicest outlaws you’ve ever met.

In a way, you felt better. Not perfect, still depressed but there was a weight off your shoulders. You felt lighter somehow, “Thank you, Arthur,” You muttered.

“Naah,” He drawled out as he hoisted himself to his feet, “Don’t thank me,” You sat up straight and remembered the box in your lap. You clutched it close, cherishing it already, “Just get some sleep, alright?”

“Okay, Pops,” The smallest, shyest smirk crawled on your face.

“Don’t call me that.” When Arthur’s face dropped to a wince you snickered quietly.

You looked at him, “Sorry, Pa,”

Arthur threw his hand in the air and pointed a finger at your with a glare in his eyes, “Dammit (Y/n)! I’m serious! Go to bed you snot and be ready to wake up early!” He started to stomp off. He made it pretty far before he finally stopped and looked back at you, unsure if he actually got through to you or not.

You sat there for a second then got up, holding the box as you brought it up to your chest, “Goodnight, Arthur,” You gave him a smile as you picked up the lantern resting beside the bench.

He smiled back and gave a silent nod of his head in return before heading back into camp. You stood there for a moment and watched him return to the others. The mumbled and talked, then Arthur whispered something to Dutch and before you knew it they were smiling again. For outlaws, they sure were happy… simple folk loved simple things you supposed. You killed the lantern and walked into your tent feeling tired for the first time in days. You felt the call of sleep as you sat down on your bed, it lulled and cradled you into peaceful dreams.

Witch Barbara! Au fic

(IM- THIS IS SO LONG. But please enjoy this fic au because I love it sm. Also mermaid Barbara au fan art 🤔🤔🤔 dam we really do like making Barbara like a magical goddess or sm because she IS)

In a world full of witches and worlocks you’d assume a boy like Adam would have run into one by now? Well you’d be quite wrong.

Adam Maitland was the third son of a very well respected witch hunting family, though he had never hunted nor in counted a witch before. His two older brothers had captured their first witches at 18 and 20, wile his parents had captured countless. Morbid? Sure but, that was just the way things had always been. Adam was just around 25 and, he was always looking for ways to impress his family. Grades, a degree, a stable job, and they were very proud but Adam always knew he could do more. He knew capturing his first witch would finally be the key to helping secure his family’s name and really make them proud. It would also give him maybe the lightest bit of accomplishment. The only thing standing in his way was, where DOSE one locate a witch? Surely they were hard to find and only lived in deep creepy woods where you’d have to hunt them. Right?

Adam let out a sigh of defeat as he leaned back in his work chair. At this rate it be almost impossible to locate one, since well his parents had ticks on EVERY witch in their area they probably had-. It hit him.

“I’ll just check the map! God why didn’t I think of that before!” He grabbed the glasses that sat neatly on the desk and put them on. He quickly walked across the dusty attic where he worked on most of his projects to a desk parallel to his own. The desk was perfectly spotless as his parents checked the map almost every day. Turning the map around he scanned over the town with his finger. Most names had an X crossed through them, seeing that they were dead or captured. Though one remained in marked. A little name at the top of a hill just a little ways out of town. Adams eyes scanned over the name;

“Barbara Miller. 25, no recent activity.”

“Barbara?” Adam questioned to himself, after all he didn’t expect a witch to be named something as ‘tame’ as Barbara. His parents always brought home weird names witches, like Jadis or Locasta. Not Barbara.

Though it didn’t matter to him this old hag would be dead by morning, and he’d make sure of it. She also didn’t seem like the type to put up to much of a fight as ‘no recent activity’ was printed next to her name. Adam set back the map where it was and went to a near by window, outside the sun was just going down but on the far skyline he could see the faint outline of a house, his destination.

Just as the sun left the sky it very quickly retuned. Before sunrise Adam was already packing for his trip. What did one need for a trip like this? Is packing necessary? Will I be staying there for more than one night?! Adam shook his head and put many things in his bag in a blur. Food weapons things like that.

Once the bag was finished he slung it across his shoulder and took one last look out the window to the house. His hands shook a bit as he looked, maybe regretting how cocky he was last night at the map.

Adam stepped out onto the porch just outside his front door and waved goodbye to his parents, who were in the living room. Once the door was completely shut he let out a sigh then regrouped and was ready to go. Or, as ready as you can be. He started his journey to the house and by logic thought it be best to sneak around the back through the woods. So that’s what he did. The woods went from in town just by the department store all the way to god knows where. Though he did remember seeing the woods go just behind the witches home.

As he came into town it was quite bare, for good reason seeing how early it was. So he had no trouble slipping silently into the wood. The woods were nothing special, lots of grass and fern, lots of trees, and maybe the occasional fairy. Adam found himself stumbling however over the steep hills and fallen debris. He struggled mostly on having his feet correctly placed of the steep hills as to not fall. He held trees with his left hand trying to keep himself stable as the other gripped anything infront of him as to pull himself up.

Through the woods he went, and before long he could see the exit just as the sun started to peak over the sky line. Adam smiled as he watched the sun, still concealed by the trees and shrubs. His eyes however were drawn to something else, a house just infront of him.

He came up on the left side of the house. The house is what you’d expect from a witch, it was mostly surrounded by shrubbery and a large garden of multicolor flowers. There were also many fruit trees and berry bushes along with vines of fruit. Though there were lots of things Adam didn’t expect from the house. There were lots of candles Incased in beautifully bent metals, and pretty chairs placed side by side on the porch. The house’s exterior also caught him by surprise, it was pearly white and had a more country feel. The house seemed sturdy and was decorated with brick and lots of arch windows. Adam was fully expecting an old rickety house with a poison ivy path that lead to a front door where he was sure to be risking his life. But, this really wasn’t it.

Adam waited a bit, his mind a little unleaded by the normality of it all. But, he was here to slay an ugly old witch and that’s what he was here to do. He gripped the strap of his bag and got up on one knee, then onto his feet. He went to step out of the brush when he heard the sound of windchimes and a door opening.

He immediately stepped back into the woods and took cover, who knew what could come out of that door. He squinted a bit trying to see the figure clearly. Sure enough off the porch came Barbara, the witch.

She wore a black sundress with roses and a large black hat with flowers decorating the top. Though because of the hat Adam couldn’t see her face clearly. He watched as she went to tend her garden and to Adam surprise, without magic. She walked about her garden with a silver watering can sprinkling the plants with water. Adam turned away from the house and sighed softly in defeat. Surely his parents must have just targeted some weird lady in a house. Though just when he was about to give up and go home he heard the soft “wosh” of magic behind him. He sat in petrified fear, had she heard him? What’s she going to do to him? He surely didn’t have enough time to-. His throughts were cut off by a soft voice.

“Hello? Are you alright.”

Adam slowly turned to face the voice and when he did he finally saw the face of the witch. Adam was unable to speak, she didn’t look like a witch at all! In fact she was, beautiful.

“Are you Alright? Why are you in the woods. Are you lost?” Barbara spoke again. Adam shook his head.

“No I’m alright I uh.” Adam looked around, telling her he was up here to kill her was probably not the best explanation at the moment. “Was hiking and I got lost.” Barbara’s eyes lit up.

“Oh! Well then please come in you look very tired. Can I offer you some tea or cake.” She gave him a warm smile.

Adams Brain was running with so many thoughts but, eventually he smiled back, “Yeah. I’d like that a lot!”

Inside her house was absolutely breathtaking. It was a mix of rustic country and a mystical otherworldly style. Adam was surprised at all the color and again normality of it all. Barbara was maybe, just maybe changing his mind about witches. Maybe what his parents told him, wasn’t true? Barbara brought him into a rather large kitchen with a nice little table in the corner, the tea and cake already set. Adams mind raced, was this a trap? Was it enchanted was he going to DIE! Barbara laughed a little as she went and hung up her hat by many others of different styles.

“It’s ok relax. You look like someone’s trying to hurt you. I assure you, no evil spirits can enter my home.” For some reason Barbara’s voice made him a little less petrified.

He politely found his way to the table as Barbara did too. Barbara poured the tea into two cups infront of her and face one to Adam. He started down at the slightly tinted water his mind racing on what to do.

“Oh dear. You’re not allergic to lavender right? I heard it helps with stress.” Adam looked up to see Barbara’s once calm and friendly exterior fade into a worried one. Adam was very yuck to respond,

“No no! I just spaced out that’s all.” He took the cup in his hands and drank some, it was possibly one of the best teas he had ever had.

“So whats you’re name?” Barbara asked from across the table cutting into a cake that was also on the table.

“My names Adam Maitland, and you?”

“Barbara Miller.” She smiled oblivious of his last name. And for the first time someone saw Adam for him, and not just his family.

“You know I really love that name, Adam. It really suits you.” Adam adjusted his glasses a bit, “Well your name is very pretty too.”

After a little wile of small talk became hours of long chats and conversations. Weird conversation that almost included no magic what so ever. Soon Barbara had peered our the window and the sun had already started to set. She turned back to Adam who had just started on a story about his first dog.

“Adam,” he stopped, “look!” She pointed to the window where the orange and pink hues filled the dimly lit room. “Would you like to go watch?” Adam nodded and she smiled taking his hand and leading him outside. They stood on the porch Barbara still holding Adams hand as they watched the sun set below the horizon.

Adam looked over at the witch who’s head was now rested on his shoulder, and though he shouldn’t he felt some sort of feeling toward her. A strong and ever present one. As the sun set Adam felt as if his hatred for witch dissipate, perhaps they weren’t all they were talked about. Barbara surly wasn’t. He tried not to think about it to hard and to stay in the moment. Taking this moment with only him, the beautiful sun and the wi- wonderful Barbara by his side as if it were to last forever.

Lucille and Eliott met when they were both very young, here is a piece of their love story. They truly loved each other, maybe in a wrong way, but love isn’t always an easy thing to live and to do. From 2014 to 2019. From Lucille to Lucas, with a lot of Eliott in the middle. 

Summer break

July 17, 2018, 10:10 pm From December 2017, Eliott had became more and more distant by the day. Involved in many activities, he didn't spend much time at home and was overflowing with inspiration and creativity. At the community center, where he spent much of his free time, the young man had met people who quickly became good friends. Lucille had never met these guys. If she felt frustrated and even a bit anxious at this idea, she tried for months to make nothing appear to Eliott. After all, she had to respect the intimacy and privacy of her boyfriend... And then, as long as he was happy, there was nothing to worry about. However, in early June, the young man had entered a manic crisis. From what Lucille could understand, his mind state had taken him to do things, with his new friends, which he had immediately regretted. Then followed a violent friendly break-up which then plunged him into a deep depressive crisis. Unable to find the strength to get out of his room, he had been unable to get to the bac exams. From then on, it was decided that Eliott would repeat his third year in order to get the bac in 2019. Lucille, despite her anxiety for Eliott's state of health, had graduated with honors. Following this disastrous end of the school year, Eliott's parents had suggested to him and Lucille, to spend a week, just the two of them, in their small family home. If Eliott, coming out of his depressive crisis but still very bruised by the loss of his friends, had initially appeared reluctant to this idea, Mr. and Mrs. Demaury had finally convinced him, arguing that these few days spent away from Paris could be a great reliese for him.

The house, an old mill renovated in a country and rustic style, was in the countryside of Seine-et-Marne, just an hour from the capital. Taking advantage of the July sun and the slow pace of holidays, the two teenagers slept very late, went to long lazy walks and took time to read a lot near the water. One evening, a small ball was organised on the square of the village near by. The couple, more used to Parisian parties than to provincial balls, thought anyway that it would probably be nice to go there. After eating, Lucille had a quick shower before going out. Busy to dry her wet body, she heard voices from the living room.

"Good evening, Madame Ciroteau. -Oh Eliott! My God, you grew up! I passed right in front of the house, I thought to see your parents there. You're here for the holidays?" Lucille recognised the cheerful voice of an old lady. Perhaps she was a neighbor or a friend of the family. "Just a week with my girlfriend.” Eliott replied. "Oh. Very well, very well! You come under the chestnut trees? There is a small music band. -Yes, yes, we will be there in a few minutes. We're getting ready." A small smile bloomed on Lucille's lips. It was silly but she liked when Eliott used that small "we". "We're getting ready"... In fact, he was already ready to leave, he was only waiting for Lucille. But he still said, "We're getting ready". This simple "we" was everything for the girl. Her pride and her hopes. Despite everything, despite the cheatings, the tensions, the doubts, Eliott and she remained a "we". "We can go together if you want.” The old lady said. "Oh, Lucille, my girlfriend, isn't quite ready yet and..." Lucille knocked on the door of the bathroom. "Eliott!” She called. "Yeah? -You can leave, I'll join you later, I won't be long. -You're sure? -Yes, yes, go ahead. -Ok, see you later. -See you!" The young woman liked the idea that Eliott could talk to other people, even if it just was this old woman. Lucille imagined her lover walking alongside the old lady, in great conversation about the family, her jams or his childhood memories. This very simple and sweet moment, could maybe help him to forget the struggles of the last months. Once totally dry, Lucille slipped on simple white cotton underwear and opened one of the cupboards where she had put all her clothes. After a few seconds of hesitation, she chose a little floral dress that her mother had given her a few weeks before. The young woman looked at herself in the mirror. The yellow dress was short, about mid thigh. Her breast was highlighted by a small cord coming to close the cleavage. The silky texture on her skin was a very nice feeling. Leaning a little more towards the mirror, she untied her thick brown hair, she put a thin layer of mascara on her eyelashes and colored her lips with a discreet pink lipstick. Leaving the bathroom, she put on her thin leather sandals, grabbed her purse and left to join Eliott. The village square was delimited by a dozen impressive chestnut trees, extending their shades to its center. In a corner, a small wooden platform had been installed to accommodate the musicians. An accordion, a guitar, drums and a small keyboard played old standards of french variety and musette. Seated at old iron tables or around the bar, young and old people laughed and talked together. In the small space separating the platform from the first tables, very young children danced and ran after each other. Small colored bulbs hanged on trees lighted the faces of a soft dim light.

Lucille stopped for a moment. A nice atmosphere was floating in the air, some way old-fashioned and at the same time out of time. The young woman had the impression of diving into a pre-war film, as if modern life, its computers, its stress and its pollution had never been in this place. Smiling, she walked towards the bar. Walking in the direction of Eliott, Lucille felt some men's stares on her. The young woman knew it well, her body looked good in this dress, it emphasised her firm breasts and her thin legs. Despite all these looks, she only had eyes for Eliott. The latter, precisely, leaning on the bar in conversation with his counter-neighbors, had turned around and was staring at her. Lucille smiled and kissed him on his cheek, leaving a small mark of lipstick that she delicately cleaned with her thumb. After that Eliott introduced her to the people at his side, friends of the Demaury family, the couple spent a long time talking about nothing and everything with them over a few glasses of red wine. Night had fallen completely when Eliott took Lucille's hands and showed her the small space in front of the platform where the children were still playing on the accordion rhythms. "You coming?” He whispered in a smile. Lucille turned to the small stage. "But... Nobody's dancing..." She replied blushing. "Who cares?" He laughed, dragging her to the front of the stage. They started to dance. One hand of Eliott resting on her waist, the other in her left hand, Lucille was at first embarrassed to expose herself in this way. Then, seconds flying by, her body relaxed. She focused on the accordion and piano sounds, and Eliott's face lit by the multicolored garlands. Only these sounds and that sight mattered at the moment.The young man closed his eyes. Lucille rested her head against his chest, feeling his heart beat close to her ear. "You know... Sometimes I wonder why it's so complicated.” Whispered the young man close to her hair, between the notes of the band. The girl pulled slightly away and stared into his blue-grey eyes. "What's complicated?” She asked him. "Well... to feel as good as I feel now, not to be hurt, not to screw everything. To be happy just like that, right now. I wish this moment could lasts forever..." Lucille smiled, sighed and rested her head against him. "I think we're learning step by step..." she whispered, squeezing him a little harder. Hugging her back, putting his arms around her, Eliott gently put his chin on her head. "Do you think we'll ever be able to be happy all the time? -Yes. Yes I do." Lucille closed her eyes, letting herself be lulled by the melodies of the band, the laughter of the children, the smell of the blossom chestnut trees and the warmth of Eliott's body dancing against her.

Applesaucing and pancaking: week of 1/25/21

Breaking out that jar of organic applesauce this week. Maybe I’ll actually buy more applesauce in the future, but in smaller containers. Also made two types of pancakes this week.

Sourdough spelt country loaf

Grade: C

Such a disappointment. I really want to master rustic bread and even made a full recipe for once...but the rise wasn’t there. And the color wasn’t there. And the taste wasn’t great as I didn’t mix the salt very well.

It might’ve overproved during bulk fermentation. The shaping probably wasn’t great either - I’m not going to use the proving bowl anymore, since the marking doesn’t stay through baking anyway. I’ll try a smaller recipe next time and overnight proof in a smaller bowl. Hopefully that will be better.

Recipe: spelt country loaf from Make it Dough

Sourdough applesauce cake

Grade: B

I wanted to use up a lot of applesauce in one go. Actually I stumbled upon another sourdough applesauce cake recipe first and liked it for the applesauce. It was pretty fun to make since the preferment was very bubbly. But the baking itself wasn’t great. I might’ve overbaked because the color of my cake was pale and it sounded like it still needed more time, but by the time I took it out, it was dry.

This was a rare occurrence when I think I actually needed more sugar in the batter. Not to say that the cake was bad-tasting, but it did lack a certain punch.

Recipe: applesauce cake from Cakewalk

Wonton wrapper chives pancakes

Grade: B+

I bought dumpling wrappers in the past to make this recipe, but by the time I got around to making it, I only had wonton wrappers. Indeed, as the recipe stated, those wrappers were too thin, so the chives didn’t integrate into dough. But using chives instead of scallions was fun, and I want to buy more chives again.

Recipe: easy shortcut scallion pancakes from the Woks of Life

Sourdough butterscotch smarties blondies

Grade: B-

I got two mini boxes of Smarties from a date. I finished one box but I thought, hey wouldn’t it be cool to use up the other box and my butterscotch chips as well as try out a sourdough blondie recipe AND use applesauce for some of the butter?

I’m not really sure I succeeded. First, the butterscotch chips actually melted, which they hadn’t in my cookies, so that was interesting. It was also too sweet, even though I cut down the sugar by 50%. And it was hard to taste the Smarties because there were so few of them.

I would definitely make blondies again, but adjust all the ratios so it’s healthier (even less butter / sugar and more applesauce!) and be more careful with the add-ins.

Recipe: sourdough blondies from Baking Sense

Sourdough injera with tomato and eggs

Grade: B+

I’m almost done with my teff flour, which is bittersweet. On the one hand, I hate that it takes up room in my fridge. On the other hand, it really smells good and would make great pancakes even without injera.

This time my injera had more eyes on top vs. the bottom, like last time. I keep forgetting that the key to a good injera (and probably pancakes in general) is to make sure that the pan is really hot before pouring in the batter.

The tomato and eggs went well too. Semi-blanching the tomatoes before stir frying makes it so much easier to mash and bring out the flavor with the eggs. It was a good meal overall.

Recipe:  the riddle of Ethiopian injera from Unfussy Epicure

Sourdough crêpes

Grade: B+

I want to get better at making crêpes so I can make those fancy Lady M cakes. And because the current French module I was working on had to do with crêpes, although I opted for a sourdough recipe to use up my poor underfed soupy discard.

I remembered to heat up the pan first before pouring the batter, but the first crêpe still shattered because I tried to flip it before it was ready. The second one however looked almost legit! I ate the broken one with applesauce and the second one wrapped around a whole banana. Excited to give this another try soon.

Recipe: sourdough crêpes from Little Spoon Farm

Sourdough brioche with lotus paste

Grade: A-

I usually opt for melted butter versions of brioche, but after the panettone and other enriched breads where I worked in the butter by hand, I felt more confident about trying this recipe.

I’m so glad I did. It felt amazing to feel the dough come together from a buttery sticky mess to a smooth ball under my hands. So addictive. I also used my Kerrygold for the first time in this recipe, although I can’t honestly say I taste a big difference. Some of the smaller buns were stuffed with lotus paste that I originally planned to use in mooncakes.

The taste was amazing and buttery. Crust is still too hard despite brushing with butter, like most of my breads. But somehow the crunchy crust worked with the creamy lotus paste, so I call this a win.

Recipe: the sourdough brioche bread from Home Grown Happiness

Raspberry baked oatmeal cups

Grade: A

I planned this for next week but made it early because of early meetings. The original recipe called for apples but in the eleventh hour I decided to use frozen raspberries, which was good because the frozen raspberries were a frozen mess that could not have been used as decoration (the original reason for buying them). The tartness also really worked actually.

I’m basically obsessed with baked oatmeal. The texture is just so amazing. I realize I can probably achieve this on the stove if I actually use more oatmeal. Next time I wouldn’t bother with baking them as individual cups...they still fell apart a bit as I took them out, and honestly the way I’m storing them isn’t that friendly for oatmeal cups.

Yay for oatmeal breakfast tomorrow morning!

Recipe: apple cinnamon baked oatmeal cups from Sally’s Baking Addiction

Awakening the Senses

No doubt, Spring has arrived. Ready or not.  Slightly resistant of the notion, personally, since as I’ve gotten more mature I embrace fall and winter. But it’s the time to embrace and not hold back. Make way for what wants to enter. Clear the space. Spring is here!  And here we have Wisteria, Italian style.  The color is simply divine. The species is rather invasive. I wanted to begin my post with nature, as always, and thought this was a great way to sum up Spring’s arrival via a shot I took in Italy. Welcome to this journey.

Below we see the unusual cypress trees indicative of the Italian countryside. I love them! When I shoot photos, I just go with my instincts and what captures my eye.

Easter has come and gone, but I spent my time in bed with a flu that I never saw coming. The trip to Italy this month I pretended to be my end-all, be-all. The trip with answers. My salvation.  Enlightenment. Or so I thought. I am on the up from being so far down, hallucinations during the night and all in a numb yet feverish state for more than three nights in a row. In retrospect, I think it was a mind altering drug. Not. I now realize my body shut down. Had no choice but to embrace hiding from the 80+degree days Easter Sunday and Marathon Monday. Simply hiding. Tossing and turning within my deep charcoal linen sheets enveloping me in within this tumultuous turmoil of fever. Thank God for grapefruit juice and blinds. This too, shall pass. I digress.

Palm Sunday

The Church. It’s Palm Sunday. I am in Florence. For the second trip from our home base of Montecatini- Tuscany. The highlight of my trip to Italy, in all honesty was the serendipitous discovery through the scent. Incense smoke from the cobblestone back streets in Florence, not far from the Santa Maria Train Station, leading my sister and I towards this elegant antique structure. The the overpowering fluid scent moving with intoxicating lure through the air – beckoning a surprise discovery. Here comes the mystery…..Embarking on this beauty and spirituality in this environment.

Palm Sunday 2017 Florence. Love. Heart opening.  The scent of Frankincense filled the Church’s entirety. Oh Bless.

We took part in Palm Sunday Mass, in Latin, like eras gone by in the US. The experience and the authenticity of  church, the nuns, looking like a painting, the architecture. I  was transported to another century. The history was soul grounding. Aren’t the ladies gorgeous?  Their graceful voices filled with melody envelop the entire church. The scene below I captured with my phone  during mass. A no no. But look at them! This scene looks like a painting. Their cloaks so majestic! This Latin mass set the tone of the day trip to Florence for me.

As we left this beautiful scene behind us, we ventured out by foot into the tourist driven scenes around the city of Florence. I placed my eyes and camera to work, seeking new discoveries and nuances along the beaten path. No stone left unturned. Taking nothing for granted. The history and age depicted below from a simple shot of these weathered shutter doors spoke to me of their years of wear and oh, what a beautiful patina tones.

OH the architecture with effortless beauty and stature. I recognized various tones of Ochre sprinkled throughout the country as its signature color. The rustic buildings and terrain lend themselves to these earthy tones.

I never tired of seeing these colors everywhere. The building below is a bit more elaborate than those above, regardless the natural age and beauty took breath away.

Food, Glorious Food

I wish I had a bevy of photos portraying the amazing food we had, but much to my dismay, the food was not that at all. It seems to me that there are more Italian restaurants with better ambiance here in the United States. And you can be sure you will not have to listen to the likes of Joe Cocker or Elton John while dining, as we did there in these very brightly lit rooms. WHAT THE HELL? I say. And no, we were not in tourist areas. We found little places family run, speaking next to no English. No candlelight. Just artificial flowers and ghastly lighting! Crazy!

The pasta was light, certainly delicious, but what’s with the lack of vegetables on every single menu? This  dish below was the best one on the entire trip. Succulent. Fresh wide pasta tubes crawling with seafood. Simply delicious! Not to mention the Tuscan wine we had to accompany our meal. Just a delight!  So wrapping up my trip, I will say that I missed having vegetable options, and am perplexed as to the void of them. Upon my return home, I hightailed it to Russo’s market in Watertown. I was immediately elevated back to a level of sophistication, in-depth produce offerings and fresh pastas unlike I’d ever seen. Alas it IS Spring.

I am totally perplexed as to the absence of all vegetables in Italy. Not in the street, on the menus, no where in sight! Perhaps it was the region we visited. I am not certain, but I do know this – here, they prominently thrive and exist.  I am very grateful and blessed to be a part of this earth here in New England. You serve us well! Spring represents many things, but in the realm of food, as the soil becomes richer and richer in nutrients, the spring bounty awakens. Artichokes and asparagus are the most obvious foods that represent Spring to me. Stuffing artichokes is a ritual I grew up with. It was our holiday food. I celebrate many different holidays with this beautiful vegetable. Slightly complex, but worth every moment. The Romans and Greeks advocated the medicinal and health benefiting  qualities of this thistle.  The high fiber content not to missed either.  The antioxidants and vitamins also offer vitamin C, vitamin K, rich in the B complex not to mention high in potassium. They need some time to prepare, but worth the effort. I love to sautée them after they have been cut in quarters and trimmed, with shallots, garlic, olive oil, salt and pepper. They are delicious one leaf at a time. The stems are especially hearty and fibrous.

Mushrooms on the other hand are plentiful at Russo’s market. They have so many varieties, and in all honesty- slightly scary to me since I am unfamiliar with many of them. The concept of foraging mushrooms turns me on, but that is not my calling. I’ll leave that to the pros. Radicchio, baby lettuce and fresh asparagus below in major abundance. The bitter deep red leaves of radicchio just taste so good raw, or grilled. Have you ever tried to grill them? They take on a very nutty flavor. Drizzle a little olive oil, salt, pepper and just a dash of balsamic before they hit the heat. I’ll show you a salad I conjured up in celebration of my return from Italy below, using escarole, radicchio, clementine slices and black Moroccan olives.

This salad was so refreshing, especially after the absence of raw vegetables. The colors, textures and  the taste was spot on, balanced and divine. Oh did I mention shaved fennel? I’ve posted the dressing recipe in the past, I believe. Please for pardon the repeat. 4 tablespoons of red wine vinegar, 2tsp dijon country style mustard, 2 minced cloves garlic, 2/3 cup olive oil drizzled into the mix. Add a small amount of cracked pepper. Voila. Done.

Marilyn Sang ‘Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend’

There you have it! Spring has sprung. April. The month of Diamonds. The birthstone for April. Clarity. Purity. Diamonds glistening in the sun, catching the light with grace. The healing properties of this magnificent stone are abundant. Diamonds truly are the symbol of purity. Their white light can help you bring your life into a cohesive whole. They bond relationships bringing love and clarity into a partnership. This stone has been the symbol of wealth for centuries. It is a stone of manifestation, attracting abundance. Diamonds are also well known to impart fearlessness, invincibility and fortitude. Diamonds clear emotional and mental pain, reducing fear and bring about new beginnings. This is a highly creative stone stimulating imagination and inventiveness. Happy Birthday you April babies!  One of my new pieces, AMODINI,  shown below looks like a relic from the Victorian era.  The multi strands of hand cut amethyst stones are wire wrapped making the connection. I’ve attached a locket as the pendant, swinging from a diamond bale which is held by all 5 strands. A halo of diamonds surround the enclosed locket. The circle measures 1.25″ and the necklace is 17″ in length.

Diamonds are a girl’s best friend! They simply make you feel good and rich when wearing them. Anywhere on the body!  For some reason, I’m favoring the circular shape, so here are a pair of diamond disc earrings, PRAMA, suspended on 18k gold earwires. These babies are 15mm and ready to order. I have 11mm in stock. Aren’t these dangle and drop earrings gorgeous?

And let me introduce to you a brand new piece featuring a circular Sunburst with a dangling tourmaline in the center. The piece is suspended from black onyx, spinel, lava and olive wood. The only color visible here is the subtle blue tourmaline. It was shot in early morning light against my zinc desk. Soon enough the weather will break and allow me to shoot outdoors once again.

This Diamond Sunburst makes me think about the sun growing higher in the sky, as the season sets in. Summer will be here before we know it. It’s time to embrace the warmth and all of the newly sprouted plants. Our souls are also sprouting. Remember that. We are living creatures with awakening senses. Time to celebrate our renewal!

I hope you enjoyed this blog journey.

Yours in joy,

Dava

(Originally posted April 23, 2017)

Adtwixt - News: Beautiful Kitchen Sponge Holder

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Viki  does not want to work chapter 1:

Chris: Hello you Are you well? Are you back in this miserable country yet? X

Viki: The infamous Chris E. appeared! I am back indeed!:) Good to be back! I am very up for work on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and on the weekend.

Chris: What about Thursdays?

Viki: jk fucking rowling huh? No more Wild Bill?

Chris: JK muthaf***in’ Rowling, yessir. Have you been chatting with Lilla muthaf***in’ Vindics?

Viki: Unfortunately i was absent the first week of Uni because of the other job and can’t really miss more of these without making people angry. I even know the availability. She forwarded to me. A few steps ahead of you, man.

Chris: They would definitely not mind you missing Thursday. They told me. They see the chance to work on a JK Rowling project as a massive benefit to your work.

Viki: I know filmmakers like you. Who chat people up, telling them that this is a good opportunity. I gotcha.

Chris: We’re the best kind of people. You can call me Weinsteener.

Viki: I am telling you working with me on Tuesdays and Wednesdays is very uplifting and it is a good opportunity for you as well and also a privilege. See that table-turning? How am I doing?

Chris: Yes that’s true. But I don’t need anyone tomorrow. I need THURSDAY. Which as we all know is the new TUESDAY and WEDNESDAY!!!

Viki: I also feel like after 6 months of work I wanna kick people in the faces, regardless of age, gender, status. I am standing up for equality. Equal kicks.

Chris: On Thursday I will line these people up for you

Viki: Let’s wait another week to convince me when I look at my bank account and get a proper stroke about London prices. I am too rich to be convinced.

Chris: Rich in fiscal matters maybe, but as rich in terms of London Unit Bases visited?

Viki: A sad parking lot you mean?

Chris: Actually, yeah. Right.

Viki: So I know that you are working now as well and took 10 very valuable minutes on convincing me but maybe the best is if I straight forward turn THIS TIME down. So you can catch some other PA’s for now and then I am coming back on my knees very soon, hoping that you will forgive me.

Chris: You are dead to me.

Chris: I can’t even remember your name or why I even contacted you. Was it about a broken boiler?

Viki: (Sad and relieved laughing in the background)

Chris: If you are that person trying to sell magic Gypsy pegs don’t bother, I have loads already.

Viki: Well, do not underestimate those pegs, they really work. I have tried them if you want more I can help you. 

Chris: What colors do you have? Anything in duck egg? 

Viki: Marble. That is a new version very chic.

Chris: I am not into that Greek shit. I want a rustic French kitchen vibe.

Viki: That’s very 2000’s I am telling you. See? In the end, I am making you buy something from me.

Chris: I am sure it is but I want either 1946 or 2033. None of that between shit.

Viki: How much is a PA wage? 120? I can give you one of them on Tuesday or Wednesday for 125 pounds.

Chris: Enough for a night out at Pizza Express.

Viki: I prefer Dominos. After a few beers, it tastes like heaven for a couple of mins. Do not wait until it turns cold. Nono we do not do that. That reflects on your life eventually.

Chris: I prefer Chinese.

Viki: The oily noodles or the sticky chicken/dog? 

Chris: Isn’t sticky chicken something posh people play at school when they are flirting with homosexuality?

Viki: I guess I haven’t experienced things you did Chris.

Chris: There wasn’t enough money in my family for me to flirt with homosexuality. I just ended up on the streets with a glass bottle up my bum for a bit of spare cash.

Viki: I see now why you liked working on Wild Bill. So many people trying to stick up things in your ass and expect you to smile.

Chris: I knew people like you would judge me for my past. You pretend to be understanding socialists but really you are just pro-Royalist. You like the royal family because they subject to lower classes to glass bottles up bums.

Viki: Long live the Queen. People said it way too much and now she lives forever.

Chris: She’s just a realistic marzipan model. Do you ever see her lips move? 

Viki: Can imagine a family lunch on Sunday at the Palace everyone is just thinking: die die die die.

Chris: The reason Phillip crashed that car? Because he was made of marzipan and couldn’t actually drive.

Viki: Impressive theory, so far the most realistic I’ve heard.

Chris: Theory is something that could be possible, like milking an ant, marzipan royalty is 100% FACT - it has been trialed around Europe for the last 50 years and those who have threatened to out the truth have met a sad end. There is a reason both Grace Kelly and Princess Di found themselves in unfortunate car accidents...

Viki: I am still not coming on Thursday.

Paparazzi / Admit One

Pairing: Leo, Ravi/Reader (separated per character)

Request: [anon] falling for a girl despite the scandal it would cause

Word Count: 1,635

Notes: First request, whoo! Starting off strong and tackling both a Leo and Ravi scenario. I don’t really write VIXX as musical artists (if that makes any sense, like I tend to write them in different genres) so this was a little out of my comfort zone, but I think it went well! This is what this blog is for anyway, practice, so thank you for that ^^ It was a bit shorter than I would have liked, but I hope you still enjoy it, anon! For other readers, please don’t be afraid to request away!

// T A E K W O O N ☀

The air was humid and heavy. The kind of summer heat that suffocated your lungs and stuck your hair to your neck in a sticky mess. She wished for a cool breeze, anything to soothe her burning skin as she fanned herself impatiently with the now crumpled university pamphlet in her hand.

She was on her way home from orientation, enrolled in a prestigious liberal arts school in the heart of Seoul just a few months prior. There was a certain allure about the country, the creative aesthetic that drew her to studying here. Trading her hometown on the other side of the world for the far east. Towering buildings and glittering skylines, beautiful oceans, and rolling plains, even if she changed her mind and decided to move out of the bustling metropolis, she wouldn’t have a problem finding another home here.

Meeting others had been a challenge since the move. A foreigner like her stood out in a nation of raven hair, porcelain skin, and slim figures. She was tall with fawn locks and eyes the color of water, rich golden bronze skin. Piercing side glances were a feeling she was used to. Out of disgust or curiosity, she had no idea.

An audible sigh escapes her lips as she’s greeted with a refreshing wave of air conditioning, stepping into a coffee shop just a short walk away from the train station. Several others seem to have a similar idea of cooling down with a cold drink and she takes her place in line.

Her number is called the same time as the barista finishes up another order. Scrolling through the news of her home country when she collides into a firm body and sends her drink tumbling to the floor.

Iced coffee catches the young man’s white t-shirt and he hisses through his teeth. He instinctively steadies her by the crook of her forearm and she doesn’t miss how hot his hand feels on her skin. Must be the summer heat.

She makes the mistake of looking up.

Breathtaking. Lean and tall, taller than her by a full head and that alone is enough to make her swoon. Tousled onyx hair and piercing eyes blown wide in surprise.

And then she sees the coffee stains on his clothes and her cheeks burn crimson.

“I’m s-so sorry,” she stammers out. She can hear unkind murmurs left and right and she wants to melt into a puddle right there.

Don’t they teach manners where she’s from?

She wasn’t even looking.

Stupid foreigner.

She moves to grab some napkins from the countertop but he stops her with another gentle touch to her arm.

“You spilled yours too,” he smiles, his voice breathy and kind. She doesn’t even notice until he motions with his gaze.

Her white shoes, now splashed orange, are now sticking to the floor with her fluttering movements.

“Who even gets a smoothie from a coffee shop?” he teases. Her unease disappears and she can’t help but laugh along with him.

**

He buys her a new drink and they take a window seat nestled in the back of the shop. He tells her his name is Taekwoon and his accent when he tries to pronounce hers makes her smile so wide that her cheeks ache.

She notices the stares rather quickly, rather indiscreet looks cast over shoulders of customers towards them. She feels her mood sour as she picks up more impolite whispers. Of course she would stand out, even more so with such an exceptionally attractive young man sitting in front of her.

He notices her discomfort. “We can go somewhere else if you like?” he offers. She wants nothing more than to spend more time with this new acquaintance but that familiar sinking feeling in her stomach sets in and she shakes her head. “It’s alright, I should head home anyway.” she says. His eyes fall slightly in disappointment.

“When can I see you again?” he asks her.

The question pulls the corners of her lips into a smile. “Sorry?”

“Next weekend. I’ll meet you here, okay?”

He pulls her hand in his and pens down a phone number on the back of a napkin.

(“I’ll write it here in case you spill anything again.”)

**

Their dates slowly progress from coffee outings once he finds out she doesn’t take caffeine well in that form. (“No wonder you ordered a smoothie.”) It’s their seventh night out together, an evening dinner at one of her favorite restaurants when she notices his phone light up on the tabletop. He moves to click it off before his notifications are illuminated but she doesn’t miss the plethora of messages.

She doesn’t think anything of it until out of the corner of her eye, she sees someone gesture in their direction, followed by the muffled snap of a cell phone shutter. Taekwoon pays no mind and looks up from his meal to ask her about dessert when their gazes lock and everything falls into place.

She remembers seeing that face somewhere before, buried within her subconscious. An early morning segment on the news of a music group coming back with a new album, the main vocalist’s serenade filling her kitchen as she fixed breakfast.

Leo, she remembers. She nearly drops her fork.

“This is..this is such a bad idea…” she murmurs to no one in particular.

He stops chewing. “What did you say, sweetheart?”

That does nothing to stop her pulse from skyrocketing at the fact that she’s currently dining with a pop star.

“I don’t think we should do this anymore..” she says. He definitely heard that.

“What?”

She bites her lip but the words still tumble out.

“This,” she gestures to the two of them, “a-and me. Someone like you shouldn’t be with me. I’m too different, I draw attention. You deserve someone more..” her words trail off and she hides her face. She feels that same gentle touch on her arm.

“Don’t you think I went into this business for attention? I’m used to it.” he says behind a kind smile. She’s about to interject but he continues. “And you’re not just a publicity stunt, you’re so much more than that.”

Again, he takes her hand in his like that blistering hot day not so long ago. “It’s not a crime.” he whispers and the camera shutters fire off like bullets, “Let them see,”

// ☽ W O N SH I K

Cozy mornings like this is what she loved about Sundays. The traffic had been light to the bookstore despite the rain, but that did little to spoil her mood. Her paycheck had come in the week prior and she was dead set on treating herself to some new reads, thank you very much.

The Classics section was one of her favorites, if she had to choose of course. With the mint chamomile tea she had sipped with breakfast this morning having cleared her mind, she begins her process of thumbing through pages and covers for a taste.

Another figure joins her just a few shelves down. Sporting silver hair and a button down plaid shirt paired with dark jeans, a Brontë book in hand. She studies him as he studies his novel, his fingers ghosting over the text.

“Jane Eyre? I haven’t seen many people here pick that up.”

He looks up from his page and flashes her a grin. “Yeah, I have this soft spot for romance novels.”

“The English edition you’re reading, can you understand it?”

“No,” he laughs, “but I’m learning. I’ve heard there’s some gothic elements and I wanted to give it a shot.”

“If that’s what you’re reading it for, I wouldn’t recommend that one,” she says. And just like that, she’s bonding with a complete stranger over literary devices. “Try this,” she hands him a copy of Frankenstein and mentally thanks her high school English teacher for those boring lectures on 19th century literature. More mystery and rustic for obvious reasons.

He lets out a low whistle and skims the excerpt on the back.

“I think I’ll really enjoy this, thank you.”

She mirrors his smile and goes back to the shelf in front of her before there’s a tap on her shoulder.

“Have you read this?” he asks. It’s a hefty hardcover. War & Peace.

She chuckles. “I can’t say that I have.” She flips through it and finds something wedged between the pages. A phone number scrawled on notebook paper.

“And you can use that as a bookmark.”

**

Wonshik takes her to record stores and music concerts, fitting places for two intellectual minds as he liked to call it. She learns that he has a thing for music and composing, something she hadn’t expected from his cool exterior.

They go to the museum one rainy afternoon. She likes seeing him babble with childlike excitement about the Roman and Greek exhibits, staying respectfully quiet while she studies romantic paintings.

He insists on paying for their lunch at the museum restaurant on the first floor despite how expensive it is. They giggle over a shared meal of overpriced sandwiches and bottled juice.

**

She finds out about his musical career that weekend. After the museum, he had spent quite a bit of time jotting down in a notebook, to which her quick eyes had spotted lyrics and sketches.

She had gotten up to leave then, worried about his future as an artist and the scandal it would cause, how a relationship would hinder his creativity with distractions.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re the problem. You’re the complete opposite of that,” he says after her and stops her in the doorway, “You’re my muse. You inspire me.”

Her blood roars in her ears. “Still,” she whispers, “If your company finds out..”

He shakes his head with a chuckle. “Then they’ll only know what their music came from.”

Of Blood and Fire

Word Count: 3,120

Characters: Ignis Scientia, OC

Warnings: Swearing, Violence, and topless tackling.  

Summary: With the threat of invasion looming over the horizon, Lucis sends their best strategist to strike an alliance with the Infernians who have only just ended their Isolation period. When plans go awry, Ignis learns first hand of why the Rogues thrive on blood and fire…

Special thanks to @itshaejinju, @xnoctits,  @atarostarling for your support. You guys make writing so much easier to share. 

Of Blood and Fire

Chapter Two

A twisting in his gut was his only warning before feeling searing pain in his back. Just before he could scream, a gloved hand clamped over his mouth. Muffled voices reached his ears as he struggled to deduce whether it spoke kindly or cruelly whenever a pinch caused his eyes to flutter close.

Mint green eyes shot open as nausea overwhelmed his senses. The blur of a trashcan entered his sight as he lurched forward, allowing the metallic taste to escape. He could feel a burning desperation in his stomach as his vision spun. The vague touch of hands on him made him panic as he materialized his daggers, stabbing in blind directions.  

“Please calm down…” A voice urged. “Take a breath.” A light touch to his bicep was all he needed to target his strength, plunging the dagger forward. He’d caught skin, as droplets of blood landed on his face. Mint green eyes sharpened as he saw a weak spot, aiming directly for the heart of the person standing above him. A painful pinch stopped him as pressure to the back of his neck froze his movements. An unsettling chill seeped into his bones as he felt his arms fall to his sides. Eyes wide in shock.

A pair of legs bent to his level as he felt something cold on his forehead. “I will not hurt you.” The accent was heavy, the words spoken without complete confidence as Ignis locked eyes with violet. “Please, get back into bed.”

 As Ignis tried to remember the events leading up to this moment, a draft entered the room as his vision sharpened long enough glance down at his naked form. Feeling blood rush to his cheeks, he grabbed the first item available. Tearing the fluffy white blanket from the bed behind him, he stood unsteadily, eyes searching for an exit. “Tell me where I am!” His demand made Emniya flinch as she cautiously stood. Holding the blanket with one hand, and materializing a dagger with the other, he realized how much height he had on her smaller frame. Not taller than 5’6, with an untrained posture, he deduced that she would be easy to take down if necessary. He instinctively squared his shoulders, ready to strike whenever a round of dizziness caused him to collapse.

 The sun’s final rays heated his flesh as Ignis eyes fluttered open. He sat up gently this time, preventing another vomiting episode. In search of his spectacles, he noticed a steaming egg dish in front of him. Without thinking he hungrily scooped the food into his mouth with the foreign utensil. Even in his haste, he could taste the various spices and herbs as he finished with a satisfactory look in his eyes. Gaining a bit of strength, he looked towards the end of the bed where his clothes were neatly folded. Dressing himself in all but his shirt, he took a moment to analyze his surroundings. He’d been resting in a sleeping nook with a wooden side table next to it. Books, journals, and an old picture frame lined the table as Ignis lifted the of photo Emniya and Kostya embracing each other. Her lips pressing a kiss to his cheek. Kostya’s smile spread from ear to ear.

 His eyes drifted to the Ifrit statue surrounded by candles and incense as Ignis recalled what he’d read about the Infernian’s current ideology clash. At the very end of the hall was a room divider and a bookshelf closing in on what he assumed was Kostya’s space. A makeshift bed consisted of fluffy colorful pillows and blankets as images of the boy sliding open the grate flashed in his memory. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he continued to search for his glasses.

His body began to ache, stiff from not moving as he slowly walked towards the stairs. From where he stood, he could see a living area connected by a table leading to the confines of an old country kitchen. Entering he took comfort amongst the rustic dishware, the window garden lining from the kitchen window to the small table in front of the face of the clocktower. Freshly harvested lavender dried in the sun as he noticed the mortar and pestle holding a bright orange spice inside. The stove was still warm as he deduced that whomever saved him had only recently left him to his own devices.

 Entering the living area, he found a fireplace draped with a blanket of greyed soot. He’d stepped on a pile of wanted posters as they revealed Emniya with bold lettering attached:

Wanted for Distributing Illegal Substances. Reward: 5000 gil.

Scanning the other wanted posters, he glimpsed many accused of several crimes ranging from drug trafficking, to theft, to murder. Casting doubt on the integrity of his saviors, Ignis all but limped towards the clocktower’s face. His vision wasn’t quite strong enough to make out exactly what was transpiring in the enclosed courtyard but from what he could tell, it wasn’t good.

  >>>> 

 The enclosed courtyard used to serve as a place of comfort in her childhood. The smell of incense blended well with the summer blossoms that caressed the smooth stones beneath her bare feet. Emniya had often felt lulled into the embrace of the environment as the weight of isolation faded from mind. Tonight however, under the light of the full moon, Emniya could feel something was off. In the center of the courtyard, a great fire burned with a growing crowd surrounding it. Nearly everyone in the family was present, a rare and borderline reckless decision unheard of for the Matriarch. Mother was wearing her ruby and gold arm cuff. A forbidden item that could lead to her hand being removed by the current Commander. In her hand was a long, lapis blue pipe filled with poppy powder. Another offense that could lead to her missing a limb. Both only appeared when something terrible was about to happen as Emniya swallowed her fear.  

A fist connected with what remained of Zedd’s face. The middle-aged man and his wife were of the select few permitted to live outside the blood walls. He had previously implored Mother for more protection against the daemons that plagued their farm. Such a request would only be granted if the famer was able to afford it.

Judging by the amount of blood splatter and missing skin, he wasn’t.

Mother, her hair in silvery twists running along her back, gazed with astute azures at the man being beaten to a pulp by the muscly Rogues. She inhaled another puff of poppy powder, unfazed by Zedd’s pleas. It wasn’t until Mother caught Emniya in her peripherals did she raise her hand, halting the oncoming punch.

Emniya felt the eyes of the others on her as time seemed to slow to a glacial pace. Over the years, she’d learned the truths that all Rogues were bound to. The fealty to the Matriarch was comprised in three parts.

No withholding of tithe went unpunished.

Her ambergine eyes glanced towards Zedd. His arms were tied to the chair behind him, his head nodding as he choked on his blood.

Her eyes widened, the sound of her heartbeat echoing in her ears. She bit her lower lip seeing Kostya next to the one person she’d hope he never meet. Avarice. She didn’t fault the boy, ever. She’d chided herself into thinking that she had more time to protect him from the Rogues. He was so young, still so naïve, still so damn impulsive.

Avarice was the one in charge of recruiting from the orphanage, a sickening sixth sense of who would be able to handle Initiation.

No one became a Rogue without bloodshed.

Pushing away the images of her own Initiation, Emniya felt her eyes flicker towards the ground, submitting, before leaning down to press a reluctant kiss to Mother’s wrinkled cheek.

And above all, no secret was worth keeping from the Matriarch.

Her eyes locked with icy azures as time resumed its natural speed. Emniya kneeled before the Matriarch.

“You called, mama?”

“Take a seat, daughter.” Her voice, deep and velvety, had always unnerved Emniya. Sitting crossed legged, Emniya did her best to prevent any emotion to cross her features, watching as Mother signaled for the beating to continue.

Desperate to focus on anything other than the light fading from the farmer’s eyes, Emniya glanced around the courtyard. Their numbers had grown to over a thousand in the past couple of years as she recognized former blood guards now enlisted in the ranks of the Rogues. Still, none of that explained why Mother had gathered so many of them together at once. Her eyes returned to where Kostya and Avarice had been standing, her nerves stricken with panic when she didn’t see them.

“You seem troubled, daughter. What concerns you?”

Emniya nodded towards the growing crowd. “This many people in this heat is making me queasy.” It was not a complete lie, Emniya disliked large crowds as she felt the energy of too many people.

In any case, Mother seemed content with her answer. “Patience. My announcement will have been worth the discomfort.”

Emniya watched with a pained expression as Mother motioned for Zedd’s beating to cease. Two of the Rogues dragging his body away. She stood from her throne as the courtyard fell silent.

“My dearest family. Today marks a victory for our people. The Commander in a rare moment of clarity has brought an end to Isolation.”

Allowing a moment of applause, Mother smiled before holding her hand up. “But this does not mean our bellum sacrum  is over. We cannot rest until the Infernian has been restored to his rightful glory! For it is through his bloodshed, that we are here. And it is through his wisdom and mercy that each generation be gifted with a Daughter of Ifrit.  ” Once again feeling the many stares on her, Emniya tensed as she rose to grab the Matriarch’s hand. “We will need your sacrifice, all of your sacrifices in these trials we face. For it is by the blood, his fire is restored.”

“By the blood, his fire is restored.” The chants echoed in the crowd as grey eyes filled with disdain.  

Like a contagion. Avarice propped herself against the wall, her eyes sharpening on Emniya. Mother, in all her power held together the constellate of Rogues. And had done so single handedly since Isolation had begun. In her perspective, Emniya wasted her potential on irrelevant rituals to Gods who had long since abandoned them. The time squandered using her own blood to create crystals, mixing incense, was already enough to send fire into her veins. But perhaps even more infuriating was the most incessant waste time. Prayer. Mother was aging, and would soon be passing on her title of Matriarch to one of them sooner than later. Avarice, while highly adroit in combat and interrogation was without her gifts of the Infernian.  Unlike Emniya however, she would not have wasted such precious energy on creating tonics for the poor and sickly. She wouldn’t waste her clairsentience skills on petty matters such as gaining empathy for those who opposed her. Avarice would seek to build the Rogue’s strength. Creating a far more brutal, efficient force to overtake the state from the Commander. And she’d do it without the blessing of the Gods.

>>>> 

Emniya still felt the warmth from Mother’s kiss on her forehead. A rare spectacle of affection, Emniya couldn’t resist the smile tugging at her lips.  Mother had been withholding, shutting down any physical connection since Emniya could remember. And yet the mere touch of someone else brought comfort in a way she hadn’t realized she was missing.

It was late, as even the moon had tucked itself beneath the thick clouds. She allowed her mind to wander as she made her way home. The moon’s rays extended across the desert city as she gazed with curiosity at what lied outside the blood walls. Were the whispers true? That in the east existed an entire city of light? That in the west lie the gravesite where the Glacian finally rested? Only read about in books, Emniya had spent her childhood imagining what the other Gods must have been like. How did they treat their children on Eos? Did all of them require blood to receive their gifts? Her questions were an endless distraction until the night she and Kostya saved that man. A flicker of hope burned in her heart as Emniya dared to wonder what kind of life she and Kostya could have outside the blood walls.  

Her moment of respite was interrupted by a hand clamped over her mouth, tearing her from her thoughts. She squirmed feeling her body lifted from the ground before being thrust against a stone wall. Adrenaline had just coursed through her veins as she unconsciously grasped for her blade. Plunging the knife forward, she felt a vice grip threatening to crack her wrist. An unsettling laugh rose from the darkness as ambergine eyes locked with glimmering grey. Prying the knife from Emniya’s hand, Avarice used her other arm to pin Emniya’s neck.

“Release me, Avarice!” Emniya hissed as she thrust forward, almost loosening the grip at her neck.

“Why? Do you have somewhere to be? I’m surprised you aren’t sticking around to see if anyone needs healing…” Her voice was raspy, just barely above a whisper whenever she leaned closer, grey eyes just inches from violet. “Or rescuing…”

The was a flash of dread in Emniya’s eyes before she blinked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You were always a shit liar.”  Avarice slipped her free hand down Emniya’s uniform, snaking downward between their legs as the raven haired Rogue placed her hand dangerously close to an area she was already too familiar with. Emniya struggled, writhing under Avarice’s lustful gaze. “Why don’t you visit my bed anymore?” Emniya looked past her towards the oncoming flashlight from one of the blood guards patrols.

“Let go! If one of the blood guards see this …” Dread filled her eyes as a dark laugh fell from Avarice’s lips.

“If you’re quiet, they won’t notice us…It’s worked before, right?” Avarice’s hand worked in small circles against Emniya’s taut uniform as she continued to squirm.

“You have to stop.”

 “Is that what you truly want?” Avarice removed her arm from Emniya’s neck watching as she inhaled sharply.

 Releasing herself from Avarice’s grip, Emniya wasted no time in scaling the stone wall before vanishing from sight.

 An amused smirk crossed her features as Avarice licked her finger tips. Guard your precious secret while you can, dear Emi. Everything in the dark comes to light eventually.

 >>>>> 

 His time as advisor the future king of Lucis had provided the strategist an abundance of patience. However, sitting in a dark apartment alone in a foreign territory was enough to test his limits. His eyes were strained, causing a headache as he massaged his temple. His eyes on the doorknob, he tensed as it turned.  The front door opened quietly as a shadow crept inside. Materializing his daggers, he tackled the unsuspecting figure.

 Their bodies collapsed, as Emniya cried out. Her head smacked against the ground dizzying her. Twice now she was pinned, her face just inches from someone else’s in the dark.

 “Get off.”  She growled.

 “Provide me one reason why.” Ignis demanded.

 “Because…” She squirmed against him. “You cannot be seen.”

 Ignis reluctantly lifted himself from her Emniya stood quickly to close the door. Latching the deadbolt as she ignored his gaze. She slid her hand across the wall, in search of the light switch. A dim light flickered to life as she stood before him.

 For the first time he was able to analyze the person who rescued him. Her dark red cowl removed to reveal her short, messy curls. The same color of the calla lilles at his family’s estate. Her deep-set violet eyes were striking against her topaz flesh.  She was not traditionally beautiful. Not like he’d seen in Lucis. Her presence louder as if demanding to be heard. A look of uneasiness settled into her eyes as Ignis realized his daggers were still in hand.

“Who are you?” His tone was harsher than he intended as she tensed. “Emniya. And you are?”

“Scientia.”

“Sci-en-ti-a.” She sounded out his name as he nodded. She muttered something in Infernian as he narrowed his eyes. A blend of melodic with soft, deep undertones reached his ear as he waited for a translation she didn’t provide as she turned hesitantly towards the kitchen.  

“Are you hungry?”

The sincerity of the question caught him off guard. Regaining his composure, he nodded allowing the daggers to dematerialize.

“Did you…”Her voice trailed off as she struggled to find the word. “en..joy the dish from this morning?”

He nodded again, as he wondered how to better deal with the language barrier. The room fell silent as Ignis couldn’t resist standing at the edge of the counter watching her prepare the meal. He deduced she was partial to using mostly vegetables with an array of spices which he couldn’t help but appreciate.

 Splitting the dish evenly amongst their plates she looked at him curiously, her mouth turned inward as she set a plate in front of them. There was a pause before she returned to the kitchen bringing over a clay teapot and two cups.  

“How do you say…” She pointed at the clay pot.

“Teapot?”  

She shook her head, eyebrows knitted. Eyes downcast at her frustration.

“Tea?” Ignis eyed her finger tapping gently the teapot as he watched her eyes flicker with encouragement.

“Tea!”  She beamed before catching herself. Her smile faded from her face as she looked away, embarrassed.

Ignis placed his hand near hers, watching as she curled her fingers into a fist. “Emniya,” He began, studying her body language. She seemed anxious, a stark contrast to the enthusiasm he’d witnessed just a moment ago. “If you would like, I will teach you the language we speak in Lucis in exchange for your teachings in Infernian. Deal?” Extending his hand across the space between their cups, he watched as she began to lift her hand towards him. Her violet eyes were cautious as if she worried he was materialize a dagger through her palm. He offered a reassuring smile as she placed her hand in his.

“Good. Now shall we start with what we’re eating?” He lifted his utensil with his other hand pointing at the dish before them. In his peripherals he caught a smile tugged at her lips, her eyes containing a glimmer of…hope? He was eager to find out.

Bellum sacrum: Religious war. 

Next Chapter