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unholyhelbig · 3 years

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[A/N: I finally updated "Dead Ivy" after a good year. Here is Chapter one if you haven't checked it out yet!]

Beca could feel the soil beneath her fingertips. It was soft, freshly overturned, and in a way, comforting. She was careful not to let her knees touch the ground- not privy to the dark stains that would splay against the fabric. The tree stood tall above her, stretching its large oak branches towards the pluming blue sky. A nice summer breeze tussled her hair, and she was sure that if she breathed in, she would smell freshly cut grass and chlorine from the neighbor’s pool.

The treehouse had long since been torn down to make room for her mother’s garden. Something that stood at the end of the fenced in yard. For a while, she grew tomatoes and zucchini. Beca could still remember the first red bulb that poked its head from the dirt. They made a salad from store-bought spinach and divided up the little thing, no bigger than a golf ball. It was still the best tomato that Beca had ever had.

She sighed at the hand that squeezed her shoulder gently. Her father smelled of aftershave and bourbon. His tie wasn’t fastened all the way to his white button down, and he had strung his suit jacket over his arm. He held a sad look that was shielded by the sun as Beca squinted at him. She pulled herself to her feet, feeling the age of her aching bones as she stepped back from the large oak tree and stared up at the branches.

“Do you remember when I fell out of this tree and broke my arm?” She asked.

Her fathers’ eyes crinkled at the memory as he gave her a sad smile. She had needed him to run beside her when he first took the training wheels off her bike. She had needed him when she learned how to drive and took out the Johnson’s mailbox. But when she dropped from a higher spot in the oak tree and felt something audibly snap, it was her mother that came to the rescue.

She had been clipping up sheets to the clothesline, claiming that the summer air was always better for stuff like that. A beautiful woman that would beam endlessly and cradle Beca in her arms with her stormy eyes and eerie calm. Beca needed that right now. Needed it to get through the handshakes and the hugs. The baked goods and casseroles that people deemed necessary when something like this happened.

“I do.” He chuckled wearily, “I got a call at work that something had happened. You scared the hell out of me that day, kid.”

Beca snorted at the nickname. She and her father had gotten along significantly better since she moved out on her own- took up a place and a prominent career across the country in Los Angeles of all places. She had, of course, taken time off work to come back for the funeral. To pull into the sleepy little Georgia town with a giant oak tree that shook in the summer breeze. She squinted at the bark, at the carving so crudely made by a grooved pocket knife.

C + B FOREVER & EVER

The second half was etched in different handwriting, something more elegant and thought out. It was funny, really. When they were kids, it was easier to think about the future in terms of relationships. Of course, they would always be with one another- they wouldn’t fathom being apart. But then college. Careers. Plane rides. Marriage, kids, and divorces. All inevitable. All anything but forever.

“She still lives around here, you know? Owns a little café in the far side of town.”

“That so?”

He grunted and sniffed away any feeling that still leaked in his voice. No one would question them for standing out here- but they still felt obligated to go back inside the old farm style house with the wrap around porch and the honeysuckle bushes. Beca didn’t know how he could still live here. “Yeah. You should pay her a visit while you’re here. I bet she’d like that.”

Beca simply nodded and let the tips of her fingers trace of the words that had been weathered over time, but they were still there. They had stood the test of time, unlike her treehouse. Unlike the little plants of tomatoes and zucchini that had rotted away to decaying vines that stretched like deadened ivy up the side of the fence.

“Right. Well, we should probably go back inside. The quicker we talk to everyone, the quicker they can go home and mourn their memories.”

It was a grim thing to say, but it was the truth, so her father let the words die in the air before sliding on the suit jacket to cover up the sweat stains against his dress shirt. She let her hand fall and looped it around his arm like he was escorting her down the carpeted floor of a chapel on her wedding day. Instead of white, she dawned black, though. And so, did he.

She thought that drinking and sadness walked hand and hand. It was why the only two bars in town did so well on any given night, and if things were bad, any given day. The other place, the snake eye, had karaoke on Friday nights and Beca didn’t think she was well equipped to listen to TLC, so she chose The Red Sun instead.

There were repurposed Christmas lights strung against the bottom of the counter, hot to the touch. A low rock ballad cracked over the loudspeaker. She wasn’t sure if the jukebox that changed light settings every few beats actually had a purpose or if it just ate up quarters. Either way, Beca Mitchell was in her own world.

She tilted her head back and let the bourbon burn on the way down. A nice and subtle sting that washed the taste of stale crackers out of her mouth. It was the only thing in her stomach- despite the spread that was now packed with tin foil in the fridge. Her father was drinking too, she was sure, at home in his study. The house was too quiet for her, though.

Beca felt a twinge of guilt in her gut.

She had ignored the last call from her brother. She was in the middle of the meeting, and at the time, the buzzing of her phone sounded louder than anything else in the world. She flushed instantly and clicked the side of the device before staring back down at her notes and sunk further into her seat.

He had died the next day, she had forgotten to call him back. A car accident and a drunk driver. Which, she supposed, defeated the purpose of being here- in this stupid some-hazy bar with nothing but time on her hands. She considered switching her flight to something earlier. But then reconsidered as quickly as the thought entered her mind. Her father needed her, at least for now.

“Beca Mitchell?” The voice startled her, it broke through the garbled focus of the next song. She blinked a few times and turned her head to the side. Stacie Conrad. She looked older, wiser even, but maybe that was the glasses. The smile on her face aged her, but in the best way. Still impossibly attractive, and confident, it seems. “Is that really you?”

“As I live and breathe.”

She winced at her use of words, but Stacie didn’t seem to notice as she quickly wrapped her in an awkward hug, Beca still half-sitting on a bar stool. Still, she craved the embrace and hugged back naturally.

“God, how are you?” She pulled away, “That’s a stupid question… I mean, as well as you can be, I hope.”

Before Beca could answer she lifted her hand in the air and signaled the bartender, the woman busied herself with preparing Stacie’s usual and pouring another sour edge of bourbon into Beca’s glass. She wasn’t sure if she would drink it or not, but she appreciated the sentiment behind it. Stacie settled into the seat next to her.

“I’m doing fine,” She finally managed, earning a detrimental look. “As well as I can be.”

The bartender set two glasses in front of them and Beca wrinkled her nose at it before focusing her attention on Stacie, the way her own drink looked like radioactive fluid. It was always the fruity things that packed the most punch. Not the gritty glass that she would be nursing for the rest of their conversation.

“I’m sorry to hear about him, you know.” Stacie finally said after a beat of silence.

Beca simply nodded. She was numb to the situation at this point. Her whole body felt like a lead pipe. She and Jason didn’t get along too well. He traveled the world and she resented him for that. But they played nice during the holidays and smiled for family pictures. He got divorced young, married even younger. It still ached her whole entire being.

“You and most of the town,” Beca chuckled dryly, begging for a change of subject. “I haven’t seen you in what? Eleven years?”

“Twelve. God, we’re old.”

She was thankful that her high school friend could take a keenly dropped hint. The two of them encircled the same click during those years. It was better than giving in to the southern tenacity of it all. They would smoke behind the bleachers and drink if they were feeling lucky. They usually were.

Beca caught a glimpse at the wedding band that took over Stacie’s finger. It was simple, not overstated with large diamonds. A simple one that was surrounded by two smaller stones. She smiled “You’re married now?”

She took another gulp of her fruity drink and hummed in response, instinctively twirling it around her ring finger. She got a goofy grin on her face and twirled slightly to make eye contact with Beca. Sure, she had seen the social media posts. The cute announcements and the picturesque scenes.

“Happily, at that, we invited you to the wedding, you know?”

“I know, I know. And I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.”

“S’alright,” Stacie said with a beaming smile “Rose loves the panini press.”

Beca scoffed and picked up her glass, chancing a sip of the molten liquid. It hissed as she swallowed, and she blinked away the residual prick of pain that collected behind her eyes. Stacie glanced behind her at the group of girls that she had come in with- doctors like her, she supposed. They all had that tired professional look that the woman beside her carried.

“Listen, uh, how long are you in town? I’d love a chance to catch up in a setting with better lighting.”

“A couple of weeks, at most. We have to settle his estate.” She grimaced at the technical term. “I’ll be around.”

“We’ll catch up, promise?”

She gave Beca a squeeze on her shoulder and a sympathetic smile, but she didn’t say it again and Beca was thankful for that. She watched as Stacie went to the four other colleges that were in her inner circle. They all asked questions and cast wary looks her way- she lifted the glass and gave a smile before turning back to the bartender. She was cleaning out a glass and eyeing her.

“Promise,” Beca mumbled, tipping her head back the rest of the way, finishing the glass of bourbon she hadn’t even ordered.

#Beca Mitchell #Chloe Beale #bechloe #bechloe fic rec #pitch perfect #pitch perfect fic

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liquidstar · 4 years

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What are some different customs your world has? Or districts of the world

Alright so I’ve actually made a post talking a bit about each different province of the world, what they’re based on and who their rulers are and stuff like that, so as far as that part of the question goes you can get all that info here!

The general customs of the world are more or less similar to our own with a few key differences, I’ll just sort of bullet point what’s different (aside from the province stuff since that’s all in the other post)

I’m putting it under the cut and hoping to god that it formats correctly.

The most obvious change is that everything is fully magic-crystal powered, magic isn’t a finite resource so it’s obviously incredibly useful, and crystals are reusable despite being finite, but still a very important resource regardless, crystal mines and mining villages are actually fairly common. The reason this is my first bullet point is because the concept of everything being magic-powered is probably going to come up a few more times.

For example, cell phones. In-universe they’re called crystal screens (or just screens) use a type of magic that connects them to communication towers that transfer information to allow long-distance contact, there are also tablets and computers, they work more or less the same way normal smartphones and computers do with one huge difference... there’s no internet. You can call and text and you can do pretty much anything phones can do without the internet, but sadly there’s no fantasy Twitter (yet).

Being a wizard is a very real occupation, though exactly what type you are will depend, you can be a shop owner, healer, scholar, fighter, knight, teacher, adventurer, etc. but you will be expected to help people. You need to study for it of course, so magic schools are common (So are normal schools, and magic is an extra-curricular course you can take in those too, but it’s more of a general studies deal), but you could also be a professional apprentice or even be self taught.

Small villages will usually have their own “village wizard”, a wizard that dedicates themselves to helping their village in any way they can, whether it’s protecting them from monsters or healing their sick and injured, they’re someone who the village comes to for help. On the flip side though, wizards can also be seen as sort of celebrities, the big popular ones get featured on magazines and get brand deals and everything.

Colors are a big deal! It’s pretty easy to tell just by looking at most of my ocs that they’re heavily color coded with their outfits matching their eye colors (usually impossible eye colors at that, like red and purple and yellow). They live in a world where souls are a very real and very important thing, and you know the old saying, “Eyes are the window to the soul” (Taken a bit further by unique pupil shapes). Basically in-universe this is something people take very seriously, their own color is something very personal and symbolic of them, and out-of-universe I try to take that into account when designing them, like how Amary’s eye color is red but she wears mostly pink, a bleached and faded version of her true color. Other colors can be worn too of course, and there’s really no law that says you HAVE to dress a certain way, you can wear what you like.

Piggybacking off of that though, it’s traditional for people who are married or engaged to wear some type of sash or ribbon that’s their partner’s color. It’s similar to a wedding ring but the purpose is different, it’s not there to show other people that you’re married (They may still ask though) but as a symbol to your partner(s) of your commitment to them, it’s something very intimate that only people willing to spend the rest of their lives together would do. However wearing a different color doesn’t always mean marriage, it could easily just be your choice of fashion because you like that color, it’s not seen as weird to wear other colors! Because of that it’s also pretty common for kids and teenagers to occasionally have a bit of their crushes color somewhere on their clothes, kind of like when you doodle your name with your crush's last name.

Homophobia isn’t the same in their world as it is to us, but it’s not completely non-existent. For the most part it’s a lot better, there isn’t much pressure on the general population to have a specific default identity, but for people of higher status, gender roles are much more heavily enforced, princesses behave like princesses, princes behave like princes. That means women are expected to be with men and vice versa. This affects characters like Geran and Amary very strongly as nobility as they’re forced into certain roles, but normal average kids like Fennel and Rue have more freedom and ability to do what they like and like who they like.

Traveling is mostly through trains and zeppelins. The train system is a bit similar to the subway system in New York, it runs through the whole world, excluding places that are separated by the ocean, except for one specific underwater line that connects the wood province island to the rest of it on the mainland. Unlike New York subways though, the trains are laid For larger trips though, zeppelins are what are used, not planes! There are no planes at all, actually. Courtesy of the sky province, zeppelins use flight magic to keep afloat and are a very common mode of transport. Of course Boats are also fairly common, especially in the sea province for obvious reasons!

This one’s pretty minor but common terms and phrases that reference god in most cases are replaced with Iris’ name, “Oh sweet Iris” and “Holy mother of magic” are pretty common ways to say “Oh my fucking God”

Wizard hats/witch hats, you know, the big pointy ones, are a thing. They’re not always worn, in fact nowadays they’re more or less considered ceremonial, but their intent is to signify that a person is a wizard and if you need help you can come to them. They can look like anything, you get to design your own in your own unique color and fashion, but the general idea of a pointy wizard hat is there.

Dark magic is a very real thing, but it’s not a specific type of magic. “Dark magic” instead refers to illegal and unethical spells, these tend to fall under the categories of: general curses, spells meant to kill people, spells meant to reverse time, spells meant to bring back the dead, spells connected to Crocus, and spells that take away someone's personal freedom (ex. Mind control). There are exceptions but these spells are mostly very off limits and not to be used, especially because a lot of them have a much quicker and much more negative effect on your body than normal magic. Sure, try necromancy, but you won’t get cool sparkly hair you’ll decay like a corpse.

Holidays are different! There are four major ones, first off there’s the solstice festival which happens twice a year, one in the summer and one in the winter as the name implies, both days celebrate the things associated with their respective seasons as well as the day and night time, they used to celebrate Iris (Winter) and Crocus (Summer) but now the latter is more of a celebration of victory over him, the former is more winter-holiday-esque. The next major one is Mayday (Also Amary’s birthday!) which is a springtime celebration, which is already a thing in our world but is a much bigger deal in theirs (Maypoles galore lol) since their world holds flowers and plants to a very high regard. Lastly is the mid-fall celebration which is more or less a combination of Halloween and Mardi Gras, it was a celebration originally born from the concept of people “scaring away” monsters (It doesn’t work but it’s about morale) with their own costumes and eventually evolved into a bigger celebration, the only one of the for that takes place over multiple days from October 31st-November 2nd. So yes there is one for each season!

#sorry if this is overly wordy and there are typos i have the adhd disorder #finn's ocs #Anonymous #Answered

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hovercraft79 · 4 years

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Hello

Chapters: 1

Word Count: 6, 021

Fandom: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)

Rating: Teen

Warnings: smoking, bitterness

Summary: It’s been fifteen years since Ada Cackle last set foot on Cackle’s Academy grounds. But while her destiny can be delayed, it won’t be denied. Alma has finally demanded that her prodigal daughter return and prepare to take up the mantle of leadership. Is Ada ready for everything that entails? Maybe. There’s one surprise, though, that she never saw coming.

Notes: This is a slightly revamped entry from last year’s Hackle Summer Trope Challenge. I’m including it because it’s actually the first part of this year’s challenge – the ‘school’s out’ trope will pick up after this installment.

My plan is to fill in some of the gaping holes in the canon storylines: when Ada met Hecate, Hecate becoming a teacher and deputy head (as well as coming to terms with her confinement) and finally, the time period where Ada and Agatha tried to co-head the school. Somewhere along the way, these two might even fall in love.

I’ve kept everything within canon (though I did keep the 13-year age difference between Ada and Hecate, there’s certainly room for Ada to be older than that). If you notice anything that I missed feel free to let me know. This is using the ‘First Time’ prompt from last year.

The title comes from Lionel Ritchie’s song of the same name.

Thanks to Sparky for finally whipping this wip into shape.

The sun disappeared behind a cloud just as the dark figure on a broomstick began her descent towards the ground. “Fitting,” she muttered under her breath. She touched down lightly in the middle of the courtyard, sliding off her broomstick and stretching the muscles of her lower back.

Staring up at the castle, she snapped her fingers and a lit cigarette appeared at once. She took a deep drag, blowing a dense cloud of smoke across the lawn. It all looked much the same as it did the last time she was here, nearly twenty years ago. It felt smaller, though, like an old dress that didn’t quite fit anymore. Another drag, another cloud of blue-gray smoke. Another time, she thought. She raked her fingers through her windblown hair – or tried to anyway. The tangled mess refused to cooperate.

“You’re hardly the picture of a proper headmistress, Ada.” Alma Cackle appeared in front of her daughter, waving the cigarette smoke away.

“Criticizing before you’ve even fully materialized? That’s quick, even for you.” Ada dropped her cigarette onto the grass and crushed it with her boot. “Good thing I’m not Headmistress, then.” She placed the back of her hand to her forehead. “Well met, Mother.”

“Welcome home, Ada. You’ve been gone too long. It’s time you started preparing for your birthright.” Alma transferred Ada’s belongings to her rooms. “I’ve cleared Mrs. Drill’s old room for you. It’s been empty since she left to spend more time with little Dimity.”

Ada nodded. She hadn’t fancied staying in the room she and Agatha had shared as children. Too many memories coupled with too much emptiness without her sister there. She’d barely tolerated the two years she’d spent in the room alone, after Agatha had been sent to Wormwood’s.

“Come along then.” She looked pointedly at Ada’s jeans and the faded Pretenders t-shirt under her leather jacket. “I’m sure you’ll want to change into something more appropriate.” Alma turned and walked towards the castle door.

Rolling her eyes, Ada nonetheless followed her mother into the castle. “I don’t reckon you’ll see me in traditional witching robes any time soon.”

Alma sighed but didn’t argue. “Have you spoken to your sister lately?”

“She sends her regards,” Ada said, suddenly very tired. They’d spoken, all right. Agatha’s angry words still scraped inside her skull. Favorite. Betrayal. Abandoned. Why didn’t Agatha understand that Ada didn’t have any more choice in this than she did? They were each forced to live out a destiny based on nothing more than which name came first on a birth scroll.

It’s not like she’d asked for this.

She’d spent nearly twenty years being anywhere but here. She’d left for Weirdsister’s the week after she’d finished her final term at Cackle’s. She’d stayed for summer terms, spent holidays with friends whenever she could and taken an entire year to broomstick across Europe – sometimes with Agatha, sometimes not. She’d taken her teaching credentials to Moonridge High School and then on to Amulet’s Academy. Now she was back. Home, she supposed. Her mother had left no room for argument. In a few years, Alma would retire, and Ada would be headmistress. It was time for Ada to assume her place. She’d start by teaching a few Potions classes, lifting the load from the insufferable Miss Gullet. Then, she would take over as Deputy Head Mistress, learning the ins and outs of running an academy. It all seemed rather bleak and planned out as far as she was concerned.

Ada studied the dining room. The banners had been replaced, but the food was just as bland and the chairs just as uncomfortable as they’d ever been. She’d forgotten how cold it was in the castle and already regretted giving up her leather jacket for a long-sleeved denim shirt.

“Do you have your lesson plans sorted yet?” Alma asked. “You’re taking over the first and second years, correct?”

“For now. I’ll be adding a level each term until a permanent Potions teacher can be hired. Everything is ready, Mother. I’ve taught Potions before, you know.”

“But you haven’t taught it here, Ada. I’ll not have my own daughter coddling the girls. Cackle’s has a long—”

“A long tradition of top marks in Potions, yes, Mother, I know.”

Alma was about to reply when Miss Gullet interrupted her.

“Don’t you fret, Mrs. C. I’ll keep an eye out for her.” Miss Gullet reached across and patted Ada’s hand. “After all, you couldn’t ask for a better mentor than yours truly.”

Gwen Bat, the Chanting teacher, threw her napkin down on her plate. “I rather think I could, Miss Gullet,” she snapped as she pushed away from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Cackle, I’ve lost my appetite.” She walked stiffly away, disappearing before she’d even gotten halfway to the door.

Blinking back and forth between Miss Gullet and her mother, Ada wondered what that was all about.

“Oh, never you mind that old witch.” Miss Gullet waved Gwen away. “She’s been in a mood ever since that dodgery old wizard did a runner on her. Can’t say I blame the bloke.”

Ada looked at her mother, but Alma just shook her head. Later, she supposed, she’d have to get the story later. For now, Ada would be content to get through dinner and retire to her rooms. A headache pricked just behind her left eyebrow, and she felt certain that a tumbler of Witch’s Brew would be just the trick for getting rid of it.

-----

For the third time, Ada ran her finger along the spine of each book on the library shelf. She couldn’t quite believe that Thornapple’s Advanced Potionry wasn’t there. Humming softly, Ada checked the adjoining shelves, just in case. She didn’t find it there, either. Hands on hips, she huffed her hair out of her eyes. Ada glanced around as if she didn’t already know she was standing in the restricted section of the library. Students weren’t allowed to check these books out. They weren’t even allowed in this section without explicit permission. A long-forgotten memory wriggled its way out of a dark corner of Ada’s brain.

It was the middle of the night and the library was much darker than Ada expected it to be. She cast a tiny light spell – about half a second too late. “MONA! Look out!” Ada pointed at the lamp on the table, but Mona had already knocked it with her elbow. Her heart pounded in her chest as the lamp tipped, wobbled, then settled back on its base. She’d scarcely relaxed when Agatha’s hissing made her jump again.

“Will you two be quiet! We’ll never hear the end of it if Mother catches us in here!” Agatha leaned over Mona until the she shrank back, huddling next to Ada. “And if I miss the dance at Weirdsister’s next week, you’ll never hear the end of it from me.” Agatha whipped around and continued sneaking through the library. “And put that light out!”

Ada and Mona exchanged worried glances and crept along behind her, fumbling their way into the restricted section. Agatha had bamboozled the young new librarian into revealing that the wards surrounding the restricted section only kept the books in; it didn’t keep the girls out.

“I still don’t see why this dance is sooooo bloody important,” Mona griped.

Once again, Agatha spun around and glared. “Because Georgie Wintercherry will be there, which means Judith Starling will be there. Which means I will be there. No silly rule that you have to be at least seventeen is going to keep me out of that dance. That toad isn’t getting her claws in him if I can help it. If you weren’t such a little girl, you’d know that.”

“Toads don’t have claws—”

“Shut UP, Mona!” Agatha hissed.

“Well they don’t! And I don’t know what you’re on about – you’re three months older than me. Ada’s older than you!”

“Don’t get me started on that bloody thirteen minutes.”

Ada shook her head, pulling herself back to the present, though she couldn’t keep her eyes from finding the volume they’d been after that night. They’d found it then, too, but hadn’t been powerful enough to make it work. Agatha hadn’t been able to sneak into the Weirdsister’s dance, and Judith had indeed gotten her claws into Georgie – their oldest girl would soon be entering Cackle’s. Looking back, Ada realized that night was probably when the seed for the plan to take their mother’s power had been planted in the garden of Agatha’s brain. Oh well, Ada thought, it doesn’t pay to travel down some old roads. Gathering up the rest of her books, she made her way to the circulation desk, reminding herself to smile at each student as she passed.

“Ada!” Miss Inkwell wriggled a pinky in the air. “I mean, Miss Cackle,” she said in her poshest voice. Ada rolled her eyes and dropped her books onto the library counter, thunking much louder than Ada intended. A dozen heads popped up, as curious students looked to see who was making all the noise.

“Sorry, girls!” Ada ducked her head and waved. “Carry on.” She turned to Miss Inkwell and grimaced.

“Don’t worry about it, Ada. You probably just woke half of them up.” She pulled Ada’s books towards her. “Gracious, you do have a bit of light reading planned.” Her eyes widened as she read the titles. “You must be planning to keep those girls on their toes!”

“It’s really for me – just trying to keep the old quill sharp.” Ada tapped her temple with a long red fingernail. “Um… I wasn’t able to find quite everything I was looking for. The card catalog shows that we should have a copy of Thornapple’s Advanced Potionry in the restricted section, but I can’t seem to find it. I can’t imagine that someone would check it out.

“Thornapple’s?” Her eyes widened when she heard the title. “Ada… that’s some advanced work, even for Fifth Years… surely, you aren’t…”

“Merlin’s beard, no! I’d rather live to a ripe old age. The truth is, it’s been a while since I’ve taught Potions; I’ve been teaching Spell Science for the past eight years. I need to brush up.”

“I see… best get cracking then.” Miss Inkwell summoned a well-worn box with a drawer, its walnut finish darkened by age. “Let me just check on that book for you.” She slid open the drawer, and expert fingers flipped through the cards. “Oh! Why yes, it is checked out, but it’s due back in on Tuesday. I’ll set it aside for you.” Smiling sympathetically up at Ada, she was just closing the drawer when a loud crack and puff of yellow smoke came from the far end of the library. “Let me just…” She held up a finger and transferred away.

Ada glanced back towards the sound but decided Miss Inkwell would have things well in hand. She pulled the drawer around to sneak a peek at the card. Maybe she would ask whoever had it if they were finished with it. She pulled out the card and read the name: H. Hardbroom, written in precise script. Ada thought she’d met everyone on staff, but apparently she hadn’t. A second puff of smoke wafted over the bookshelves. Sighing, Ada transferred into the thick of it.

-----

“Stop fussing with the collar, Ada,” Alma said without looking up from her paperwork.

“It itches.” Ada tugged again at the offending collar.

“You’re whinging like a petulant child.” Alma finally looked up, peering at her daughter over the top of her bifocals. “It’s better than that ridiculous leather jacket you insist on wearing.”

“Hmpf.” Ada pretended to check her list of preparations for the Yule Party. The jumper was warmer than her motorcycle jacket, but she’d never admit that to her mother. She’d already stopped wearing her concert t-shirts, mostly, bowing to her mother’s persistent insistence that they weren’t professional enough, even if they were hidden under her robes. She knew her mother wouldn’t be satisfied until Ada wore the same drab skirts and frumpy jumpers that she did. Never, Ada vowed to herself, no bulky jumpers – sleek power suits would be her signature outfit once she was Headmistress. “I’m going down to the kitchens. I want to go over the preparations for the Yule Dinner with Mrs. Coriander.” If she expected more than a grunt from her mother, Ada didn’t get it.

By the time she arrived in the kitchen, Ada was doubly glad for the jumper. No matter how many warming spells they cast, it just wasn’t possible to heat the entirety of the castle in winter. Corridors were simply left as they were.

Ada opened the doors to the hurly-burly of the kitchen and realized immediately that she was in the way. Pressing herself against the wall, she finally spotted Mrs. Coriander on the other side of the kitchen, going through an order of produce with a young woman Ada didn’t recognize. Holding her breath, Ada made her way across the kitchen, dodging floating pots of boiling soup, flying vegetables, and a near-miss with the backswing of a meat cleaver. She reached Mrs. Coriander just as the unfamiliar witch transferred away. “Bouncing bats, Edna! I had no idea it would be so… chaotic!”

Edna Coriander laughed a raspy, acid-washed laugh. “Just you wait, Miss Cackle. Now that the last of the produce is here, we can really get our skates on.” She passed off the basket of vegetables to a kitchen witch that scurried by. “What can I do for you?”

Ada picked up a sheet of paper that had been blown off the table by the passing witch: the receipt for the produce. Ada scanned the items, impressed at the variety of plants available at this time of year. The name at the bottom caught her eye, H. Hardbroom, written in the same neat script she remembered from the library. She turned to ask Mrs. Coriander about the young woman but was cut off by the squawking of three different time crows going off at once. Now was certainly not the time. With a jaunty wave to Mrs. Coriander and a shout of ‘good luck’ to the rest of the kitchen witches, Ada transferred out into the hallway. Breathing in the sudden quiet, she wrapped her jumper tighter around her chest and began the long trudge back to her mother’s office.

-----

“Have you finished with the expense reports yet, Ada? We need to pay this month’s bills before next month’s get here.”

“Almost, Mother, there’s one that doesn’t make any sense.” She levitated a notice to her mother’s desk. “It’s for a grocery delivery, but not to here, to Darkwood Cottage.”

Alma didn’t even glance at the paper; she just flicked her fingers and sent it floating back to Ada. “Just pay it.”

“Why would I pay it? Why would groceries be delivered to Darkwood?” Ada snatched the bill from the air. “I’ll speak to the grocers; I’m sure it’s a simple mista—”

“Pay it, Ada!” Alma barked. Forcing her voice back to calmness, she went on, “It isn’t a mistake.”

Ada may have spent the better part of the last twenty years away, but she remembered her mother well enough to recognize that this bill represented A Thing. And whatever it was, it was something that her mother didn’t want to get into. And that meant Ada had to ask. “What is this about, Mother? There’s something you don’t want to tell me.”

Alma took her glasses off, methodically cleaning and recleaning the lenses with a cloth she’d magicked up. Ada held her tongue, certain that any more pushing on her part would shut the entire topic down.

Finally, Alma put her glasses back on and looked up with the saddest, weariest eyes Ada ever remembered seeing in her mother’s face. “I guess you may as well know now; you’ll become the Sealkeeper once you take over as Headmistress.”

“Sealkeeper? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Ada felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle.

“No. You wouldn’t have, thank the heavens. It’s old magic. I think Hecate is the last witch requiring a Sealkeeper.” Alma gestured to the chairs in front of the fireplace and summoned her tea set. “Not quite ten years after you’d graduated, I think you were at Moonridge at the time…” Alma poured herself a cup of tea, thinking. “No matter,” she said at last. “You’d been gone a while, and we’d started a new term and were just getting to know our new girls. There was one… Och, Ada, she was a real firecracker, that one. Bright, lively, clever little thing. Still holds the record for the highest scores on her entrance exams. Her name was Joy – and if ever a girl was suited to her name, it was her. Joy Hardbroom.”

“Hardbroom? There’s a Hardbroom that sells us produce and checks out books from the restricted section of the library. You don’t mean that Hardbroom?” Alma nodded and sipped her tea. “Hang on then… aren’t the Hardbrooms also that old-fashioned family that keeps lobbying to bring back the boundary rules that separated us from the Ordinary world?”

“That’s the one. Remember that about them; it’s important.” She summoned a plate of biscuits and offered one to Ada. The Hardbrooms… old magic. Powerful. Unyielding in their adherence to the Code. They brought Joy up the same way – in a very strict, very structured household. But like I said, Joy was bright, curious, vivacious. I think coming to Cackle’s was the first time she’d ever had any sort of freedom at all.”

Ada frowned. This already sounded like a story with a bad ending. “What happened? When Joy got all this freedom…something had to have happened.”

“To this day I don’t know where she got the idea, but during her second year she decided to sneak down to the village one weekend.” Alma vanished her teacup and hoisted herself to her feet. After a moment staring into the flames, she started pacing in front of the fireplace. “Seems the girl spent weeks in the library working out how to get past the wards. Too clever for her own good it turned out. That first trip to the village was like getting dosed with Faerie dust. She went back again and again. Found an Ordinary girl with just enough magic that she could see through the Concealment spell.”

“How is that even possible? If she could see…” Ada joined her mother at the fireplace. “What happened? Did the girl expose Joy as a witch?”

Alma shook her head. “No. Rumors had been going around that Joy had been leaving the grounds, but nobody thought she was going to the village. At least not until Miss Willowbark found a poster in Joy’s room. It was for a music festival that had happened in the village.”

A chill settled in Ada’s chest, right behind her breastbone. Willowbark. She’d never met a person less suited to teaching than Imelda Willowbark. She hated children. She was a stickler for the Code – for all rules, really. “She got caught, didn’t she?”

“Breaking one of our highest laws. Imelda wanted her expelled. Immediately. I… well… after what happened with your sister… I wanted to give her another chance. Imelda went to the Great Witch to try and have the girl expelled. Fortunately, the Great Witch sided with me. Joy wouldn’t be expelled, but she would be confined to the Academy for the remainder of her schooling.” Alma shrugged. “It seemed reasonable. She could go with her parents on holidays, but during term she would be confined to the school grounds.”

“But something else happened, didn’t it?” Ada did a few quick calculations. “She’s got to be twenty-three… twenty-four? Why does she get groceries from Cackle’s?”

“I need to show you something. Come along.” Alma held her hand out. Ada stared at it for a handful of seconds before grasping it.

The next thing she knew, they were standing at the edge of the forest on the south side of the castle. Before them stood a statue of a girl wearing a Cackle’s Academy uniform. “I don’t remember this being here.” Ada circled the statue, noting the detail. She ran a hand down the statue’s arm. It was exquisitely done. Too exquisitely. A knot began to form in the pit of her stomach.

“You wouldn’t.” Alma stepped up and brushed some dirt and leaves from the shoulders. “This is Indigo Moon, the friend Joy made in town. Her best friend.”

“How…” Ada snatched her hand off the girl’s arm. “How did this happen?”

“Loneliness. I don’t think anyone understood just how lonely Joy was. I know I didn’t. I should have, though. When her parents refused to pick her up on holidays, I should have seen about her, but she insisted she was fine. Turns out, she was miserable – isolated and lonely. Desperate for her friend.”

Ada brushed tears out of her eyes. She wasn’t one to break the Code, not after everything that had happened with Agatha, but surely they had to see that sometimes what a young witch needed was understanding. She turned back to Indigo Moon. “How did this happen, Mother?”

“Joy stole my Wishing Star. She couldn’t leave Cackle’s, so she brought her friend to her. Then she gave her magic so she could stay.” Alma shivered as a cold draft of air whistled through the trees. “Night’s falling. Let’s finish this up in my office.” She transferred them back.

“I don’t reckon I need to tell you what happens when you give magic to a non-magical person, do I?” Alma asked once she’d settled herself back in her chair.

Ada leaned forward, elbows to knees, cradling her head in her hands. “No.” Everyone knew what happened. Magic in the Ordinary drove them mad. And turned them to stone if they didn’t relinquish the magic. How many of Witchdom’s childhood stories involved an Ordinary getting their hands-on magic and the terrible consequences that followed? No one ever gave up their magic in the stories. “So what happened? Her confinement just became… permanent? Even though she was a child?”

“Eventually, yes, that’s the punishment she received. She would remain confined to the Academy grounds for as long as the girl remained stone.”

“But she was a child!” Ada threw her hands into the air. “This is just like Agatha! One mistake and your whole life gets taken away from you?”

“The Code is the Code for a reason, Ada!” Alma pointed towards the forest. “What about that little girl out there, Ada? Her life got taken away as well.”

“Don’t try to defend this, this, abomination of a decision that you imposed on a child!”

“That I imposed?” Alma laughed bitterly. “You’re suffering from bloody delusions of grandeur if you think a headmistress has that sort of authority. No, Ada, that punishment came from the Great Witch herself.”

“But you didn’t try and prevent it, did you, Mother?” Ada was shouting now. “She was a child, Mother, and you just let her life be ruined, exactly like you did Agatha.”

“Prevent it? No, Ada, I didn’t try to prevent it. I argued with every last breath I had for them to confine this brilliant little girl to Cackle’s instead of stripping her of her magic, erasing her memory and throwing her out to the Ordinaries.”

Ada sucked in a lungful of air so fast she choked.

“That’s right. They wanted to strip every drop of magic from her blood. Publicly. Turn her into an example for everyone. Her parents were perfectly happy to have her confined if it kept it all private. It worked. The Great Witch made me responsible for her. That’s why I’m Sealkeeper. It’s why you will be, too.” Alma slumped down in her chair. “As long as that girl is stone, Hecate remains confined to the grounds.”

“Hecate?”

“Her middle name. Joy changed her name after that day. She changed everything about herself. How she looked, how she acted, what she went by. I can’t even imagine the guilt that little girl felt – still feels. She caused the person she loved most in the world to cease to exist.”

Ada dropped into the chair across from her mother. An Ordinary life with freedom but no magic? Or a life with magic, but no freedom? Ada wasn’t sure they’d really done Joy, or Hecate, any favors. “And no one’s been able to reverse the spell?” She knew the answer before her mother shook her head. “So, what did you do with her?”

“Do? I did whatever I could for her. I gave her as much freedom as I could. I gave her free reign in the library so she could try to find a spell or potion to restore Indigo. I brought in a counselor once a week to help her deal with her guilt and shame.”

“Did it work?”

“For a time. It took a while, but eventually, thanks to one very persistent young witch, she made new friends. She had a new best friend, but it all fell apart when they graduated. I think that’s when it truly became real for Hecate, when she watched them all leave but she couldn’t.” Alma shrugged. “As for her future… I made sure there was no mention of any of this on her school record and arranged for correspondence courses. I offered to arrange for a tutor so she could get her teaching credentials in case she ever wanted to work as a teacher here. She never expressed any interest in it, and I don’t blame her. She moved to Darkwood Cottage and keeps to herself. We provide her needs and purchase her vegetables and potions ingredients. On rare occasions I’ve been able to persuade her to join us for the odd ritual or holiday.”

Ada leaned back in her chair. It was a lot to take in. “Am I her… jailor? Warden?”

“NO!” Alma snapped. “If it were up to me, she would have been free to leave years ago. Her original crime isn’t even a crime anymore. “But it isn’t up to me,” she sighed. “The Great Witch placed the wards herself, and only she or her successor can undo them. As long as Indigo Moon remains stone, Hecate is confined to Cackle’s. If Indigo is ever restored, you’ll be able to remove the ward. It doesn’t happen automatically.” Alma summoned a bottle of wine and two glasses. Ada accepted hers gratefully. “Truthfully, Ada, I don’t think she’d leave even if she could. I don’t think she’d leave Indigo behind.”

Ada downed her glass in a single gulp and immediately poured another. Some days, she really wished Agatha had been born first.

-----

“What do you mean, we’re out?” Ada stared at the empty cupboard. “How can we be out? I know we ordered more than enough nettles.” Mrs. Coriander wrung her hands for an answer. “What happened to the ones we had?”

“As best I can tell, the Spell Science Fourth Years were working on some sort of healing spell and accidentally summoned a plague of locusts. All I know is more bugs flew through my kitchen than I’ve ever seen in my life!”

Ada shook her head, struggling to keep her cool. “Where can we get more? The market?”

“Sorry, Miss, I tried them straight away. We cleaned them out with our first order. I tried the other markets, too.” Her hands twisted harder. “I’m so sorry, Miss Cackle… With everyone wanting nettle soup for the spring meal… We’ve got all the dairy and such for the more traditional part of the meal.”

At least there’s that, Ada thought, ruefully. The nettles were the main ingredient in the soup Cackle’s served for their Imbolc luncheon – the very same soup that Christobelle Cackle had served the first class of girls over a millennium ago. Back then, it had simply been her favorite soup, made from the first greens of spring and appropriate for feasts celebrating new beginnings, such as Imbolc and Selection Day. Now, time had rendered it an honored tradition, passed down through generations of Cackles and carried on by countless former students.

New beginnings, her mother had said, as had every headmistress of Cackle’s Academy that had preceded her. Ada wasn’t about to be the one that broke that tradition – or tell her mother that they couldn’t make the proper soup. Her nerves screamed for a cigarette.

Ada pushed the craving away, for now. “It isn’t your fault, Mrs. Coriander. You were hardly responsible for a plague of locusts.” She squeezed the cook’s arm. “Go on and get done what you can. I’ll try to come up with something.” Ada nodded, trying desperately to convey confidence she didn’t feel.

Ada strode down the corridor, her heart and feet both flying as she raced to the potion’s storeroom. She rifled through every shelf, adrenalin sparking like magic when she spotted a jar labelled ‘nettles,’ but it crashed just as quickly when she pulled the jar down and saw they were spiny-leafed nettles. Her temper started sparking along with her adrenalin. Miss Gullet caused this whole disaster, or allowed it, yet she was nowhere to be found when it was time to put things right. Trying to think clearly, Ada studied the jars and boxes, searching for anything that might work as a substitute, but there was nothing.

She slid down the wall, cradling her head in her hands. Why did she ever think she would be capable of being Headmistress. She felt something roll against her foot, a jar of dried flower petals. She turned the jar and read the label – Dog’s Mercury. The label was handwritten in small, neat script. Ada’s eyes narrowed – she recognized this handwriting. It was the same handwriting she’d been seeing on the grocery receipts. For produce. Hecate Hardbroom’s handwriting. It was a long shot, Ada knew that. But… She pushed herself to her feet and summoned her broom. She could be at Darkwood Cottage in less than an hour. “What do I have to lose?” she muttered to no one in particular as she mounted her broom.

-----

From the sky, Darkwood Cottage, tucked at the very edges of the Academy’s extensive grounds, looked warm and welcoming. Up close, Ada could see how worn and tired it had become. It was tidy, though. She could tell that it wasn’t being neglected. As she touched down, she felt the slight tingle of magic as she passed through the occupant’s wards. Glancing about, Ada was impressed by the neat rows of vegetables off to the side of the cottage. The front garden was a jumble of flowers and herbs, each one healthier and lusher than the last. Clearly, powerful magic had brought spring early to Darkwood Cottage. The desperate spark of hope glowed a bit brighter.

Ada leaned her broom against the house and knocked, straightening her clothes as she waited. Feeling unusually self-conscious, she wished she’d taken the time to change out of her dark jeans and Iron Maiden t-shirt. She’d been planning to change later, of course, but then the whole business with the nettles started and…

The door swung open, and Ada found herself face to face with a beanpole of a young woman. She looked down at Ada with eyebrows raised impossibly high – whether that was from surprise at finding Ada on her doorstep or the severe bun that sat atop her head, Ada couldn’t know.

Smiling as brightly as she could, Ada bowed deeply. “Well met, Miss Hardbroom. I do apologize for showing up unannounced.” Dark eyes traveled up and down Ada’s body, frowning, and once again Ada wished she’d taken the time to change. “Please forgive my appearance, it’s been a rather hectic day.” The young woman was still staring at her, and Ada couldn’t tell if it was confusion or distaste that was winning the battle for her expression. She held her hand out, hoping that would break the tension. “I’m Ada—”

“Cackle. Mrs. Cackle’s oldest daughter.” With a start, she raised her hand and returned the formal greeting. “Well met, Miss Cackle.” She straightened and opened the door wider, beckoning Ada inside. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

Ada dropped her hand and followed Hecate inside. She explained the problem with the nettles, but her eyes never stopped roaming the inside of the cottage. Shelves filled with potions ingredients lined the walls. Hundreds upon hundreds of bottles and jars sat neatly in rows, each labeled with that same precise script Ada remembered. It was better stocked than any potions lab Ada had ever seen. Finally, her situation explained, Ada couldn’t contain herself anymore. “This is incredible, Miss Hardbroom! I’ve never seen any lab as well turned out as what you’ve made here!”

Flushing with obvious pride, Hecate looked around the room herself. “It’s my life’s work, I suppose you could say.” Her shoulders sagged as her eyes dropped to the floor. “I assume you know… my circumstances.”

“Mother told me.”

“I’m sorry for the burden I’ve placed on you.” Hecate turned around and made her way into the pantry, returning a moment later with a pair of wicker baskets. “I know where to find what you need. There’s a grove that’s sheltered; plants usually sprout earlier in the season. I can transfer us there in a moment, if you’ll allow me?”

Ada nodded and held out her arm. The strength of Hecate’s magic surprised her. No wonder she’d been able to visit the Ordinaries and harness a Wishing Star. In no time, both baskets had been filled and the nettles magicked back to the kitchens.

“You’ve saved my skin, Miss Hardbroom,” Ada said as she helped Hecate clean the baskets and put them away. “I didn’t fancy having to tell Mother we couldn’t make the traditional soup.”

“I expect not,” Hecate said, drying her hands. “Your mother has been very kind to me, though, certainly kinder than I deserved.” She gestured to her kettle. “May I offer you some tea? Or do you need to get back for the banquet?”

“The banquet, I’m afraid.” A thought struck her. “I would be honored if you would join us, Miss Hardbroom. After all, we would hardly be having the banquet if it weren’t for you.” At least I wouldn’t, Ada thought to herself, Mother would have me cleaning out the kitchen bins for sure.

“Thank you for the invitation, Miss Cackle, but—”

“That’s a yes, then? Excellent!” Ada’s cheeky grin was contagious, and soon the younger woman was agreeing to go.

“You don’t have to fuss over me, you know,” Hecate said as Ada was mounting her broom. “Just because I’m bound to the Academy doesn’t mean that you’re obligated to me in any way. I’m content here, and my work keeps me busy.”

Ada thought a moment. Hecate’s work, no doubt, consisted almost entirely of trying to find a potion that would release Indigo Moon. She’d seen the bookshelves filled with journals, and a quick peek at an open one on the kitchen table had Ada itching to read more. “That’s something we have in common then, isn’t it?” Ada asked, leaning on her broom. “We’re both tied to this place, in one way or another. I hope that we might be friends.”

Hecate blinked in surprise – then blinked again, trying to keep tears at bay. “That would be… I don’t... If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Ada said, holding a hand out as she mounted her broom. “I’ll see you at the banquet, then? It’s at the usual time.”

Hecate reached out and shook Ada’s hand. “At the banquet. I’ll be there early, in case you need an extra pair of hands.”

“Well met, Hecate Hardbroom. I’ll see you then.” Ada pushed off and made her way back to the castle, certain that she’d just met someone extraordinary.

#Hackle Summer Trope Challenge 2019 #but it's part 1 of HST 2020 #Hackle #pre-relationship #season 3 fix-it #TWW17

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darkmindsotome · 5 years

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A Case of Jealousy

Ikevamp long/short of my little OC and Arthot.

Warning: This descends into debauchery(smut). **Please read responsibly.**

tagging: @a-shout-to-the-void, @xathia-89, @umbralaperture and @jennacat84 If you want to be removed from tagging let me know :)

Darkmindsotome Masterlist

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A case of Jealousy

Opulent was a word that only touched the peak of this 19th-century excuse for a house party. The ballroom was full of people rubber necking and brown-nosing their way around the room. If you ignored the scale of it this was nothing unusual even in the 21st century.

Keeping her back straight in her gown provided by the Comte she stood next to her escort for the evening, smiling pleasantly at the approaching well-wishers hoping that her desire to yawn was suppressed enough to not show.

“Pardon Aerion. I had hoped to provide you with a much more relaxed stay but it appears…” The Comte spoke softly just loud enough for only her to hear.

“Work intervenes? You have no need to apologise Comte. If I were back in my own time, I would still have had this kind of event to attend.” She smiled and tried to ignore the enquiring looks she felt from behind. It didn’t matter how many times she had attended things like this it seemed the locals still wished to observe her as some sort of curio in a cabinet.

“You are too kind. However, I still feel responsible for all of this. Allow me to grant you a day off tomorrow.” He returned his attention to another approaching well-wisher, his words hanging in the air as if subtitles were on pause. Elegantly he extended his hand and polite affirmation at another guest. Their conversation had continued in this fashion all evening.

“Ordinarily I might be inclined to politely refuse your suggestion but I fear my feet may have other ideas after tonight so I graciously accept on their behalf.” Aerion gave her light-hearted acceptance. There was no denying the Comte and his generosity. The gowns, shoes, accessories had all arrived at her room as if by the magic that was Sebastian. The quality of such things was unequivocal to anything she had in her time.

“Mais bien sûr. Ah, pardon. I see someone I had business with ce soir. I hate to leave you unattended.” The Comte had a pained look on his face as he spoke.

“Please I’ll be fine I’ll just get a drink and wait for you to return.” Her attempt to reassure the man was met with his apologetic expression softening. His golden eyes that sometimes seemed so expressive with unspoken emotions like deep lost pools of thought appeared warmer right now. His lips bowed into a charming smile.

“You could also enjoy some of the food.” He indicated the sublimely displayed tables of finger food set out at the far side of the room.

“In this corset?” Her quip was partly true. The food did indeed look delicious but she was acutely aware of the whale boning stitched tightly into the fabric that was compressing her insides. It did give her body a much better silhouette in the gown but that did not mean she was comfortable.

“Très bien merci Aerion.” The Comte gave a small low chuckle as he placed a brief kiss on the back of her hand and left her side, cutting his way towards his intended business of the evening.

---

His hand cramped whilst still holding his pen signally that it was time to stop. He had been writing in his room since the muse struck him at some point around lunchtime. He remembered the brief interruption from the mansion’s latest guest arriving with a glass of rouge to sate his hunger. Curious creature that she was he couldn’t deny it was exhilarating to have such back and forth with her during their conversations. She tended to broach a desire to not take part in extreme displays of idiocy but she was also not a total wet blanket.

He had found himself drawn to her when she had taken to traversing the library in search of nightly reading material. This was by no means strange, but the topics she had decided to choose from had piqued his interests. Thickly bound texts on philosophy, mythology and even more intriguing were the works of psychology she had added to her borrowed literature. He hadn’t seen someone devour a book in such a fashion outside of the study hall in school. Stretching his arms above his head the desire to go in search of coffee struck. Removing his reading glasses and placing them on top of his new manuscript Arthur rolled his head to ease the stiffness in his neck.

His short jaunt to the kitchen caused him to develop a bounce to his step as the idea that he might see the pretty little skirt there with her arms submerged in soapy suds cleaning the dishes from dinner. How would she react to him sliding up behind her and whispering a greeting in her ear? He would probably resemble a drowned rat afterwards but it would be worth it.

Aerion was a woman out of her time, displaced if you would prefer to use the term. Unlike the residents of the manor who were now not really part of time, in a mortal sense anyway. He could remember how Napoleon had attempted to hide her on her arrival and chuckled. As if you could hide such a rarity. He had spoken lightly in jest as was his habit. But somewhere along the way with all their bickering and bantering he had found himself even more aware of his eyes following the woman. Her short white hair, jauntily styled to one side of her face revealed all of her neck. She seemed oblivious to what such a sight could provoke in an establishment such as this. How the open show of vulnerability might cause the inner beast to stir.

She was quick-witted with a sharp tongue at times. Her eyes had a way to pin you to the spot that could rival the Comte if she so desired. It was certainly a thrill to have the luxury of their little daily interactions in his extended life span. His pace increased without his noticing and when he came at last to the kitchen doors he did find someone in there doing dishes as he had thought but it was the wrong human.

“Good Evening Sebastian.”

“Arthur.” Sebastian glanced over at the new arrival who sauntered into the kitchen making a beeline for the coffee-making paraphernalia. “You seem happy.”

“Tonight is a good night. I managed to put an end to that accursed tale. Only one thing could improve my mood further. Where is the enchanting Governess?” Arthur busied himself with the coffee bean grinder, cranking its handle releasing the fresh raw scent of the ground beans into the air.

“Aerion is with le Comte attending a ball.” Sebastian’s reply was matter of fact. His attention had returned to the dishes in the basin.

“Ball? Not that tediously dull one that he was talking about at dinner last week?” Arthur placed the powder into the french press waiting on the hot water to boil.

“The very same. He had made arrangements for her to attend with him, I delivered her gown myself.”

“I see. Well, well.” Arthur’s hand stilled momentarily as he poured the water allowing it to aerate with the coffee grounds enough to become the perfect brew.

He had a few pleasures left in his life. Coffee, fudge and women. The latter had become something akin to habit lately. He had found himself conversing with the pretty little things in the city only to discover his interest wanting. There was something stirring and he recognised enough of it to know it wasn’t going to change without intervention.

“I’ll be stepping out for a time Sebastian.” Arthur placed the lid on the coffee pot and turned on his heel marching out of the room.

“Very well. What about your coffee?” Sebastian arched his brow noting the sudden shift in demeanour from Arthur.

“You have it!”

---

Roughly ten minutes. That was how long it took for her to attract attention perched on a chair provided by a wall in the ballroom and rather, unfortunately, it was also how long she had been listening to a young man’s babbling as he recounted numerous anecdotes of his travelling outside of the city as he in his own words “experienced the spice of life.”

This basically meant he was a historical version of a modern era young adult who had taken a gap year and a job where ever he could find it as he dicked around the Dordogne, or whatever the 19th-century equivalent was for one of those holidays that was essentially one excuse after another to chase temptation in all its forms.

“… And then the owner of the vineyard.” The young man’s energetic delivery of the same thing repeated was becoming a source of a growing headache. She maintained eye contact with a detached non-committal smile on her face but inwardly was calculating how long it would be till the Comte came back and saved her. There was a lull in his talking indicating a required response from her.

“Fascinating. I have to say I really enjoy travelling myself. Tuscany sounds a little similar.”

“Oh! You enjoy travelling too? Perhaps I should invite you on my next trip.” The smile that flashed over his expression did little more than add to her rapidly increasing desire to just leave the party. Her eyebrow twitched as she silently cursed herself for walking right into that one.

“I wouldn’t hold your breath…” She muttered into her wine as she tilted the glass back.

“Pardon?”

“I said I was curious about the depth. The ocean looks so vast and dark when you go to the coast but I don’t think I’ve ever been close enough to answer the question.” She was certainly tired. The man in front of her was becoming more and more intoxicated either by the flow of alcohol he was guzzling or by the rarity of having someone be polite enough to fake interest in his tales of youthful debauchery.

“You are so charming. We really should find out and whilst we are discovering the answer to that question we could find the answers to other things as well no?” His hand reached out towards hers that was resting on her lap. There was no attempt to hide behind a mask about anything of the things he was considering. His body was beginning to draw closer but before she could do anything about it she felt his hand leave hers as his body was guided with force away from her.

“There you are Aerion. Wouldn’t you know this place is so large I quite lost you for a time? Careless of me.”

“Arthur?”

He was an unlikely rescuer to be sure. He wasn’t a bad guy really but compared to the rest of the men in the mansion there was just something about him that always seemed to flip that switch in her. The one that usually prevented that inner snark from tumbling from her like a waterfall.

“You two are together? I had no idea. You never said you were with someone.” The young man was flustered. His desire to shift blame was evidence of that. But that wasn’t what had caught her attention.

Arthur was being unusually threatening. She could feel the intimidation rolling off him as he smiled at the other man, placing his body as if to shield her.

“Well, now you know. Poor form dear boy to try to go after someone else’s partner.” His blue eyes reflected the ice in his voice. The nonchalant attitude he usually possessed seemed to have abandoned him completely.

“Your what now?” She couldn’t help but voice confusion. Arthur was a terrible flirt and an incorrigible tease but whatever they had had not progressed past that since her arrival. He was a decent drinking partner and conversationalist in the long evenings where she found she couldn’t sleep. But when had I become “his”?

“Pardon monsieur. I really had no idea.” The terrified young man freed himself from Arthur’s grip and scuttled away into the crowd.

“Arthur? What do you think you are doing?” Aerion enquired drawing his cold eyes from the direction of the rapidly retreating man to hers.

“That’s my line. Were you intent to let such a man lay his hands on you?” Arthur rounded on her now. It was predatory and completely different from the Arthur she knew.

“Of course, I wasn’t!”

“Really? I have to wonder. The evidence such as it is would suggest otherwise.” His face softened a fraction as he elegantly scooped up her hand that had been held by the other man. Tracing his long fingers over it, his thumb rubbing her palm in circles.

“Well, the “evidence” as you call it is wrong.” Her reassuring denial seemed to fall on deaf ears and as she attempted to retrieve her hand from the ticklish feeling of his fingers tracing her skin only to have his grip shift to clamp around her wrist.

“Ho, ho. So, we have a mystery on our hands? What jolly good luck then that you have me to help discover the truth.” He firmly pulled her arm making her rise from her chair and almost tumble into his chest.

“Arthur!”

“Come along. Unless you would prefer, I conduct my investigation systematically with an audience?” It was difficult to tell if that was another one of his little teases or not but she had no desire to test her own theory on how far Arthur would take things even in public like this. She was supposed to attend as a favour to her Host.

“The Comte…”

“Will figure out what happened. Come on now.”

---

Leading her from the ballroom in a route march Arthur had said no more to her. Even after bundling her into a coach and ordering the driver to take them back to the mansion he had barely cast a single glance in her direction. The only contact they had was his strong grip from his large hand that remained wrapped around her wrist. The heat of it rose in increments that felt like standing a little too close to a naked candle flame.

If she had thought she could escape back to her room she had been gravely mistaken. Arthur opened his bedroom door dragging her in behind him and kicked it shut with such force it made the books on the shelves in there judder.

His soft lips crashed into hers stealing her cries of confusion along with the air from her crushed lungs. Whether it was from the corset or the passionate kiss it was hard to tell what had her head spinning more. The tip of his tongue traced her lips and his teeth grazed the soft velveteen skin as they nipped at her mouth teasing it open again this time more gently. For a moment her mind turned to the old adage about still waters running deep. You really couldn’t tell one hundred per cent what someone was going to do until it happened.

Her back as pressed into the thick wood door behind her. She could feel it putting pressure against her body as Arthur pushed his body flush to hers, his hands stroking all over her gown exploring her outline. Raising her hands to press against his chest seemed to draw him back into the reality of the situation enough for him to at least allow her the chance to gasp for air.

“… Why?” Her breathy whisper tickled over his skin as he pulled back to take in the view. The usually composed, practically perfect woman reduced to a slip of a girl dyed the same shade of dusky rose as her fine silk gown.

“You insist on asking questions you already know the answers to? And you call me a tease…” His mouth was back on hers before swiftly slipping to her jaw trailing innumerable feather-light kisses along it before drawing back once more rapidly devouring her mouth again. The varying attack ranging from sweet and gentle to fiery desperation had her feeling like her knees were about ready to buckle.

“Arthur…”

His name on her lips stoked the fires consuming him from the inside out more. He could feel her body slip under his hands and adjusted her, placing his knee between her legs strengthening her stability. Fingers dancing over the embroidery of the garment found the ties behind her, with a hard tug the knot came loose and so to did a carnal growl from him as the enchanting female in his arms gained enough of an upper hand with her newfound freedom to breathe to sink her own teeth into his collar bone. His hip rolled grinding his knee hard against her centre.

“Biting a vampire? How bold you are.” His low voice trickled into her ear warm as the summer sun and sweet as honey.

“Ah… you bloody tease Arthur.” She was panting in his arms returning his embrace stroke for stroke as she too ran her hands over him, their clothes becoming increasingly more dishevelled.

“If you think this is bad however are you going to handle what comes next?” There was a devilish smirk on his face as he scooped her up practically tossing her on his leather sofa.

“Huh?!” Her pale blue eyes darkened with lust were wide at the sudden change in location. Not giving her time to adjust Arthur clambered on top of her pinning her arms above her head kissing his way along the soft pale flesh of her inner arms as he made his way back to her heaving torso.

With one hand he reached around her back, his fingers lacing into the short hair on her neck pushing her forward into a strong kiss that had his tongue wrapping around hers. His hand slipping lower down each of her exposed vertebrae discovered the slackened ties to the corset and pulled them more. As the last of the tension left the fabric he managed to free her of its confides completely, relishing the sight of her delicate ethereal form spilling forth into the open air.

“Don’t just stare.” Her protests at his lingering gaze had him chuckling.

“Why? You are a rare beauty. Just my type.” He ran a single long digit from her clavicle to her naval drawing small circles on her hot skin as he looked up into those hooded eyes. “Your body really is much more honest than you are.”

“What are you even--?” Her words were cut off by his hand as it pushed past the layers of fabric gathered at her waist as easily as if they weren’t there at all. Her back arched as he toyed with her most sensitive area.

“See how wet you are? I dare say you were feeling me long before this. What a bad girl you are.” His low methodical tone coupled with his words worked too well. It had her twitching under his masterful hands, just like every other playing piece in any one of Arthur’s games he knew how to work her to his advantage. A fact that under usual circumstances was highly irritating was not the worst conclusion at the current time.

“Ah, I’m n-not…”

“Don’t worry I love bad girls. Just be honest with me and let me love you for all you are.” He slipped his weight lower flipping what was left of the skirt of the gown higher. Exposed to the elements she could do very little but watch in stunned silence as Arthur busied himself between her thighs.

His fingers dug into the swell of her hip leading her body into a change of angle that allowed his tongue to better perform its task. Time stopped when he glanced up at her from between her legs, one hand moving to run along the length of it before he sunk his fangs into the flesh there. The sudden sharp pinprick of pain quickly faded and morphed into a mind-numbing blissful fog that had her writhing happily on a wave of ecstasy. He maintained his ministrations to her core as he drank her own particular sweet brand of rouge. His mind was equally fogged as he realised how hard it was going to be to go back to drinking anything else. Her cries of pleasure had him withdraw, gazing at her wonton face. His fingers remained scissoring inside her, alternating pace and angle driving her closer to the precipice.

“You look like you want something.” His words were only answered by the increased panting of the woman lying prone on his sofa. “Tell me. Tell me Aerion what do you want?”

“Argh! Arthur…” Her groan of protest against his teasing was like sweetened poison.

“Sorry, you’ll have to speak up. I think it's an age thing, my hearing you know?” He moved his free hand to the buckle on his trousers removing them from his body with a practised hand.

“Damn you… Arthur, I want you.”

“Such sweet words. How could I ever refuse Lady’s choice?”

Dragging her towards his lap he guided himself into her an buried his length inside. She was so warm he felt as if he was going to melt as her walls clamped around him with each rock of his hips. The leather creaked beneath them and the room filled with the lusty sighs and carnal moan from each of them as they reached a crescendo that could have rivalled a Diva’s Aria.

Languidly rubbing his hands over her bare shoulders after carrying her to bed Arthur placed a gentle kiss to her nape. Causing Aerion to wriggle in his arms her buttocks brushing against him reviving his desire from moments earlier.

“Are you quite alright?”

“Mmmm, yeah. I think so.” She turned in his arms and he could see her glowing skin. “Why?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were prepared for round two.”

---

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winduphaurchefant · 5 years

Text

REALLY LONG CHARACTER SURVEY » Reese Farouel

RULES. Repost, don’t reblog! Tag 10! Good luck!

TAGGED BY. @to-the-voiceless

TAGGING. @fivebrights and anyone else who wants to do it since the rest of flowr has been tagged

BASICS.

FULL NAME : Charalise Farouel

NICKNAME : Reese, which she uses instead of her actual first name. It stuck.

AGE : 28

BIRTHDAY : 28th day of the 6th umbral moon (12/28)

ETHNIC GROUP : Elezen / Wildwood and Duskwight parentage

NATIONALITY : Sharlayan

LANGUAGE / S : Eorzean Common, Sharlayan, and bits of some niche languages.

ORIENTATION : Bi (is inexperienced with the concept of polyamory but might be willing to try if it comes up)

RELATIONSHIP STATUS : In flowrverse (our fc where we are All wol)) she’s most likely taken by Haurchefant because there’s absolutely no fucking way he’d die on her watch. In-game universe is less concrete, her self esteem is quite low so she doesn’t actively seek relationships but she’s prone to getting crushes easily; Urianger being one of them.

HOME TOWN / AREA : The Sharlayan Colony, Dravania

CURRENT HOME : A small cottage on the very fringes of the Lavender Beds. Also technically Fortemps manor and her room in the Pendants.

PROFESSION : Scholar (in the literal sense), Adventurer, and Warrior of Light

PHYSICAL.

HAIR : Café au lait blonde. She used to have it quite long, reaching past her hips, not styled in any specific way but brushed at least. After the Seventh Umbral Calamity she’s kept it quite short for practical purposes and usually hacks away at it herself, much to her friend Lunya’s chagrin.

EYES : Almond shaped eyes of deep blue with a halo of gold around the pupil, accentuated by her thick brows which are uncommon for most Elezen.

FACE : An oval shaped face with a tall, straight nose. Not overly animated in her expressions since the calamity.

LIPS : Has somewhat pouty lips and a bad habit of lip biting

COMPLEXION : Fair skin that freckles easily, she has the ability to tan but makes sure to apply salves to her skin before leaving for areas with more intense sunlight. Lots of moles, with a few noticeable ones on her face.

BLEMISHES : None that are noticeable

SCARS : A Lot. She has a very prominent scar across her back which she usually likes to cover up.

TATTOOS : None. She enjoys seeing other people’s tattoos but wouldn’t get one for herself, she hates feeling stuck with something.

HEIGHT : Average height for an Elezen at around 6′3″

WEIGHT : 180 lbs give or take, most of it is muscle

BUILD : Tall and lean, quite muscular but not very toned. Her muscles were built more for purpose and less for show, like a power lifter. She could probably roundhouse kick someones head clean off. Pear shaped.

FEATURES : Her prominent brows and two moles beside her right eye

ALLERGIES : No known allergies, but she can get sick very easily.

USUAL HAIR STYLE : When it was long she usually just wore it down and free flowing, she does the same with her short hair although it doesn’t flow as much.

USUAL FACE LOOK : Her expression is usually quite stoic with a hint of Very Tired to spice things up. Is known frequently to come down with a case of RBF

USUAL CLOTHING : Loose tunics and some fitted trousers and boots when she’s sitting around researching or not doing much, she’ll just pile on armour as needed. Starts to wear things that are a bit more form fitting or aesthetically pleasing as she becomes more comfortable with herself.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR / S : Heights, being trapped, death, death of loved ones, failure, being abandoned, and... spiders

ASPIRATION / S : To just be... content. Surrounded by people she loves and who earnestly love her in return.

POSITIVE TRAITS : Empathetic, resilient, compassionate, she is the unstoppable force and the immovable object.

NEGATIVE TRAITS : She is the unstoppable force and the immovable object. Tends to bottle her feelings and has a hard time trusting people. Self-sacrificing. Low self worth.

MBTI : INFP-T (Mediator)

ZODIAC : Althyk (Capricorn)

TEMPERAMENT : Cross between phlegmatic and melancholic

SOUL TYPE / S : Server

ANIMALS : Dire wolf, lioness, sparrow

VICE HABIT / S: Prone to bouts of just... lying there. Doesn’t sleep very well so she ends up half finishing a lot of things.

FAITH : Unsure

GHOSTS ? : Yes.

AFTERLIFE ? : Possibly

REINCARNATION ? : Possibly

ALIENS ? : Anything’s possible!

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT : She really doesn’t like thinking about politics after being absolutely smothered by The Bibliothecs. Very left leaning

EDUCATION LEVEL : Received a proper education at the Studium in Old Sharlayan, sponsored by a certain Archon. Her interests were too varied to become an Archon and was constantly belittled for her niche areas of study. If she only applied herself...

FAMILY.

FATHER : Barnimonchet Farouel. (Status Unknown) Archon Barnimonchet was the foremost expert on aetherytes and aetherical travel. Having led repairs to multiple aetheryte systems across Eorzea and a member of the Antitower excursion team, he drifted (literally) quite frequently between the Studium and the colony. Despite his meek nature and tendency to ramble, there is no doubting that he was worthy of the title of Archon.

MOTHER : Nenne Farouel née Phillone (Status Unknown) Archon Nenne was a master in the studies of all things alchemical, including potions, crystal structures, and inks for grimoires and tomes. Her preferred area of study was researching ways to better the body and mind, noting the aetherical compositions of different beings and brewing revitalizing concotions; especially her recent invention which coined the term "Craftman's Tea", creating the recipe as a way to help her husband in his work. She often found herself in the Arboretum gathering ingredients and helping out her fellows tasked with groundskeeping, scolding tones of "Barn!" could be frequently heard echoing through the Telmatology quarter as her husband and formerly mentioned Archon fumbled his way through the vined walkways to visit her.

SIBLINGS : None

EXTENDED FAMILY : No knowledge of extended blood family. The closest she had to a parental figure was Archon Louisoix who had originally offered to babysit her as a babe when her parents left on orders to study an aetherical disturbance, after which they disappeared. He took on the role as a surrogate parent for her, having no trust in Sharlayan’s current care system. Takes on an older sibling role with the younger scions.

NAME MEANING / S : I named her Reese Peepo because I like Reese’s Pieces and the peepo video was popular at the time. Charalise is a nonsense name I gave her to fit in with why she’s Reese.

HISTORICAL CONNECTION ?: none

FAVORITES.

BOOK : She loves history books with any knowledge predating the fourth astral era, and has been known to read the occasional romance novel when no one is looking. Has grown to hate learning about anything Allagan.

DEITY : No specific deity

HOLIDAY : Starlight Celebration

MONTH : October (Fifth umbral moon)

SEASON : Fall/Winter

PLACE : Urth’s Gift

WEATHER : Rain

SOUND / S: Wind blowing through the trees, crackling of firewood, morning bird calls, the cello

SCENT / S : Clean laundry, freshly baked goods, flowers, cut grass

TASTE / S : Savoury, warm spices, nothing too sweet

FEEL / S : Heavy blankets, smooth crystal, soft leaves

ANIMAL / S : All

NUMBER : none

COLORS : Earthy colours and the blue of the ocean on a clear day

EXTRA.

TALENTS : Gardening, sword fighting, art, singing (she usually does it by herself), healing magic

BAD AT : Staying level headed, opening up, decorating, fashion

TURN ONS : Honesty, good sense of humour, kindness

TURN OFFS : Cruelty, making fun of her interests, being ignored, arrogance

HOBBIES : Researching lost civilizations, anything creative, cooking

TROPES : Rage Breaking Point, It Sucks to Be the Chosen One, Big Fucking Sword, Adorkable, Conveniently an Orphan, Friend to All Living Things, Broken Hero, I Just Want to Be Loved, Badass Bookworm

QUOTES :

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 : If you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?

A1 : Probably a LOTR-esque high fantasy adventure movie

Q2 : What would their soundtrack/score sound like?

A2 : Lots of cello and choir pieces

Q3 : Why did you start writing this character?

A3 : She’s basically my self insert but with a little extra Oomph

Q4 : What first attracted you to this character?

A4 : She’s basically my self insert

Q5 : Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5 : She’s not very expressive, she’s not used to being super goofy or anything which I am

Q6 : What do you have in common with your muse?

A6 : Lots

Q7 : How does your muse feel about you?

A7 : Probably pretty chill, would probably go and get pizza together

Q8 : What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with?

A8 : Haurchefant intentionally or unintentionally tends to break her stony facade with his ceaseless flirting and a barrage of compliments which usually ends up with Reese either cracking a little smile or turning beet red and abruptly leaving the room. He brings out the morosexual in her. She instantly becomes brighter than the sun when she’s around anyone far younger than her, switching to a more motherly persona. Alphinaud and Alisaie receive the brunt of her affections before Ryne comes along. Neither will admit to the fact they both actually enjoy it.

Q9 : What gives you inspiration to write your muse?

A9 : Honestly listening to LOZ music since she’s basically Link but a little bit to the left

Q10 : How long did this take you to complete?

A10 : F.....four days

#ffxiv #ask meme #reese #reese farouel #elezen

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kitsune-kirei · 5 years

Text

Neverending Survey: Kirei Meztli

RULES: Repost, do not reblog. Tag 10 blogs! (Or as many as you’d like)

Tagged by: @lightofthecrystal, @elegie-de-sang, @ataki-yuuto, and @lillies-n-lilacs, thank you for tagging me, It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these!

Tagging: @gaillaffxiv, @infiniteleftdoesffxiv, @sparrow-ffxiv, @fensa-valehart, @mai-takeda, @seina-kurokiba, @gaggle-of-dorks-ffxiv, @jorandalkitor, @thesinsofgreed

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Kirei Meztli ( @kitsune-kirei )

NICKNAME: Kitsune, Kitsu, Rei, The Firefox.

AGE: Unknown, looks in her 20′s or 30′s.

BIRTHDAY: Unknown.

ETHNIC GROUP: Half Hyur, Half Doman .

NATIONALITY: Ul’dahian, Doman.

LANGUAGE/S: Hingan, Eorzean.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual.

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Quoiromantic (thank you for this term Spurrow)

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Complicated as fuck.

HOME TOWN / AREA: Yanxia, deep within the bamboo forests.

CURRENT HOME: A hidden cave in the Mists. The location is unknown, except to those Kirei has become dedicated to.

PROFESSION: Flower arranger/seller, deliverer, information broker, exorcist, spy.

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Curly, wavy, and messy, fire orange in color, recently cut to cheek length.

EYES: Peculiar lavender eyes.

FACE: Almost doll-like and delicate in appearance, sometimes covered in dirt.

LIPS: A bit pouty, rarely wears lip-paint.

COMPLEXION: Olive, dewy.

BLEMISHES: A mole on the left side of her chin.

SCARS: Small, barely noticeable scars mar her entire body.

TATTOOS: None, sometimes Kirei will mess with Henna.

HEIGHT: 5′6, pretty tall for a Miqo’te.

BUILD: Skinny, lanky, tall.

FEATURES: Foxlike ears and a foxlike tail.

ALLERGIES: None.

USUAL FACE LOOK: Neutral, melancholic, bright, friendly, ever present smile.

USUAL CLOTHING: Practical clothing on the skin-showing side.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S: Losing sense of taste, hands and feet being cut off, feeling trapped.

ASPIRATION/S: To liberate every single slave under the Echion slave branch, to understand what it means to be human.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Empathetic, helpful, friendly, dedicated worker, passionate, self sacrificing, able to look at the bigger picture, peacekeeper.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Self sacrificing, self pitying, generous to the point of poverty, feral, half truths, holds too many secrets.

TEMPERAMENT: Phlegmatic- individuals tend to be relaxed, peaceful, quiet, and easy-going. They are sympathetic and care about others, yet they try to hide their emotions. Melancholic- individuals tend to be analytical and detail-oriented, and they are deep thinkers and feelers.

SOUL TYPE/S: The Shaman- This type of soul is wise and old. They can give great advice as well as truly connect with people around them. Others often feel better in their presence.

ANIMALS: Fox, Deer, Otter.

VICE HABIT/S: Smoking, drugs every so often, having strong urges to dig holes in the ground out of nowhere, toxic relationships, succumbs to feral instincts every now and then.

FAITH: Loose faith in Kami/ Shinto.

GHOSTS?: Yes, Kirei can communicate to spirits and sense ones nearby.

AFTERLIFE?: Yes.

REINCARNATION?: Yes. Kirei has brief episodes where she gets feelings from her last lifetime, and rarely, will share a familiar feeling among people she had been acquainted with in her past life.

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral.

EDUCATION LEVEL: Taught to read and write, self studying.

FAMILY.

FATHER: R’ihan Meztli - Estranged, Keeper of the Moon. Kirei traveled with her father in Thanalan for a while before he ultimately sold her to a slaver. Spent his life work searching for a powerful Kami in the east.

MOTHER: Leiote Sekai - Deceased, Doman Hyur. Leiote was a Geiko in Hingashi, and was well known for her ethereal presence, beauty, and kindness. She was ultimately charmed by the outsider R’ihan Meztli, and they both moved back to her home village in Yanxia to start a family.

SIBLINGS: Kaeyu Meztli - Half sibling, half Keeper half Seeker. Kaeyu and Kirei don’t know the other exists. Kaeyu has a reputation for being rather rambunctious and a trouble maker.

EXTENDED FAMILY: Kirei has family on her mother’s and father’s side, but she doesn’t know anything about them, or there whereabouts.

NAME MEANING/S: Kirei (きれい)- The Hingan word for ‘pretty’, or ‘beautiful’. It has been heavily implied to Kirei by others, that she was named after her mother’s beauty and kindness in hopes that she would inherit these traits.

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: None.

FAVORITES.

BOOK: A Hingan child’s book called ‘The Tale of Mohatsu-Otome’, otherwise known as the Eastern version of Rapunzel.

DEITY: None.

HOLIDAY: Moonfire Faire.

MONTH: Fall seasons.

SEASON: Autumn.

PLACE: The astral plane, various hidden nooks and crannies throughout Eorzea, Doman bath houses, hot springs.

WEATHER: Sunny with a chill in the air, warm desert days, rainy.

SOUND / S: Ethereal singing, the singing of lesser nature spirits within the woods, wind chimes, ocean waves, water, the rustle of leaves in the wind.

SCENT / S: Incense, tobacco, fresh unpicked flowers, old tomes, herbs, fresh baked bread, tea.

TASTE / S: Peaches, apples, fresh sweet cream.

FEEL / S: Soft and bristly fur, warmth, fresh snow, crunchy leaves, fine sand, hot rocks, pebbles.

ANIMAL / S: Goobbue, Tortoises, smaller creatures.

NUMBER: 3, 6, 9, 33.

COLORS: Rich purple, pink, light/bright blue, green.

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Dancing, healing, cooking, making shitty looking but durable furniture, sewing, manipulation, twin daggers, aether control.

BAD AT: Lying, drawing, staying clean, writing.

TURN ONS: Charming cockiness, depth, intensity, shoulders, meaningful words, white eyes, dark eyes, smirks, someone who can figure her out, making her laugh, a nice voice.

TURN OFFS: Simple minds, tunnel vision, someone who doesn’t listen to her words, racism, un-needed/careless violence and aggression, calling her a ‘cat’, unflattering colors, self absorbed.

HOBBIES: Flower frolicking, cooking, traveling, swimming, making junk, people watching.

TROPES: Girl next door, Hippie, Undere/Yandere

QUOTES:

“I want to understand... The weight of a human life.”

“We need to keep moving forward. We have our eyes in the front for a reason after all, there is no point in looking back to the past.”

“I take a hold of my fate with my own two hands. I will not leave things to chance.”

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 : If you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?

A1 : I’m not sure about the title, but it would definitely have to be an animated film. And It would probably be about Kirei’s backstory and about her parents. There’s a lot of details about her past that I don’t get to touch on too much in RP.

Q2 : What would their soundtrack/score sound like?

A2 : Something that would invoke a lot of emotion if possible. Ghibli/Disney-esque would be awesomeeee.

Q3 : Why did you start writing this character?

A3 : Long story short, something happened to me while visiting Japan that gave me inspiration to write Kirei. Close friends know the entire story, but its a bit long and wild. I’ll just say it involves a Fox shrine I ran into!

Q4 : What first attracted you to this character?

A4 : Besides the thing that happened in Japan, I wanted a character where I was able to express my interest in things like shamanism and the spirit world. I also was really attracted to the idea of writing a character that was still kind to others even though she has no reason to be, due to the rough life she lived.

Q5 : Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5 : I’m a really open person who likes to approach people to start conversations, but Kirei is the opposite of that. It makes it a bit harder to approach in RP since I wrote her to be a wallflower. She’s also much more reserved than I am, so if there’s a wild scene happening in RP that I would like to get in on, I really can’t on Kirei since she’s not one to participate in things unless asked.

Q6 : What do you have in common with your muse?

A6 : Probably too much in hindsight rofl. Kirei is the first RP character I ever wrote, so I gave her a lot of commonalities from myself so it would be easier to write her and learn how to RP.

Q7 : How does your muse feel about you?

A7 : She would probably tell me that I’m trying my best, but she thinks that with most!

Q8 : What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ?

A8 : A whole other side of Kirei comes out if she interacts with manipulative/cunning characters, and I really enjoy writing that darker side of her that appears.

Q9 : What gives you inspiration to write your muse ?

A9: A big inspiration for the core of Kirei is Tohru Honda from Fruits Basket (if you couldn’t tell but all the fruits basket stuff I reblog). I just loved how she was written, and how she stayed kind despite her hard life, and I loved her layers and how she viewed others. Tohru gave me a lot if inspiration to be kind to others growing up, Kirei is really just a homage to her.

Q10: How long did this take you to complete ?

A10: TOO LONG, I worked on it on and off throughout the week.

Thanks for reading if you stuck around this long!

#ffxiv #ffxiv rp #ff14 #ff14 rp #kirei meztli

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thevoilinauttheory · 5 years

Text

Never-Ending Survey | Maximiloix

Tagged by @elegie-de-sang! Thank you so much, and thank you for your patience! It’s been a while since I got this orz

Tagging: uhh... anyone who has wanted to do this and hasn’t! Please! Do! It! And tag me! I want to see all of your lovely characters!

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Maximiloix Soleil Voilinaut

NICKNAME: (Hates all of his nicknames) Max [by most], Maxie [by Caromont].

AGE: 109

BIRTHDAY: 28th Sun of the 1st Astral Moon

ETHNIC GROUP: Elezen

NATIONALITY: Ishgardian

LANGUAGE/S: Common, Old Ishgardian, Old Sharlayan, Dragonspeak (to a degree, his pronunciation is horrible), Sign Language; in the process of teaching himself Far Eastern languages and dialects; is familiar with Ilsabardian words and terms, unable to speak the language fluently.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION : Pansexual

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION : Panromantic

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: It’s complicated. Legally, he’s single.

HOME TOWN / AREA: Ishgard, Coerthas

CURRENT HOME: Mist, Limsa Lominsa

PROFESSION: Teacher, Aetherologist, Historian

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Unnaturally white with hints of brown. Base of neck length, kind of wavy. Very well groomed and taken care of.

EYES: One is a whitish-silver, the other is a light teal. Almond shaped, with constant bags under them.

FACE: Squared, angular jaw. High cheekbones.

LIPS: Kinda average for his face shape and size, always wears lipstick.

COMPLEXION: Tanned from outdoor work, usually on the paler side.

BLEMISHES: Aside from the bags under his eyes, he has very few visible blemishes.

SCARS: A lot. Mostly covering his chest and back. The most noticeable ones are the thin scar along his cheek, and a nasty deformation on his right arm.

TATTOOS: Geometrical patterns are tattooed around his entire body, everywhere except his face, to help him cast magic easier and more efficiently.

HEIGHT: 7′4′‘

WEIGHT: ~200lbs.

BUILD: Lanky and frail looking. He has muscle due to his time as a logger and Templar, but he is lacking in physical strength with his old age.

FEATURES: Long and well kept fingernails, well-groomed. All other prominent features have already been stated.

ALLERGIES: Deathly allergic to mushrooms.

USUAL HAIR STYLE: Well washed and maintained, looks very soft. It is usually kept loose. On rare occasions, it will be tied back to keep it from getting in his face while he works.

USUAL FACE LOOK : Annoyed, irritated, and angry.

USUAL CLOTHING: Does not have much of a closet - or he does, and he prefers to wear the same thing everyday. Garishly long white robes, tight black pants, black high-heeled boots, and a black eyepatch.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S: Drowning, being buried alive, being alone, being forgotten, losing his friends and family, powerlessness.

ASPIRATION/S: To correct his many mistakes, and hopefully become on good terms with his family. Or at least speaking terms.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Protective, inquisitive, friend to the poor man. He *does* know how to have fun, I swear.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Almost constantly annoyed or irritated at something; power-hungry; selfish; will not hesitate to throw anyone under him when it comes to gaining new power and knowledge.

TEMPERAMENT: Choleric / Melancholic

SOUL TYPE/S: 16% Educator / 15% Thinker / 12% Leader

ANIMAL/S: Falcon.

VICE HABIT/S: Alcoholism, Self-Martyrdom

FAITH: Halone, apparently.

GHOSTS?: Believes in them to a degree.

AFTERLIFE?: Kind of?

REINCARNATION?: A more plausible and sensible option after death.

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Absolutely loathes people of noble birth, unless proven themselves to *not* be assholes. Stays on the side of the poor man, and will fight for their rights.

EDUCATION LEVEL: While he doesn’t know everything, he does know a lot for someone who’s education level is “I learned how to read”. There were no schools for him to attend as a child, so he learned through experience, traveling, and reading.

FAMILY.

FATHER : Adelnard Voilinaut

MOTHER : Genevieve Voilinaut

SIBLINGS : He is the eldest of 9 - here’s a list.

EXTENDED FAMILY: He has a lot of children and extended family members, and here’s a list as well!

NAME MEANING/S: Based off the Common, Eorzean, name, Maximillion - which means “Greatest Rival”. (Also I just used the random name generator and went “what a cool ass name” until I learned how to pronounce it.)

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: None, in-game.

FAVORITES.

BOOK: Will never admit it, but thoroughly enjoys raunchy romance novels. Good luck finding his collection.

DEITY: Halone.

HOLIDAY: The Starlight Celebration. It gives him a reason to (begrudgingly - to keep up appearances) give gifts to people.

MONTH: Likely the 6th Umbral Moon (December)- not only the month of his favorite holiday and season; but it was the month he met Caromont as well.

SEASON: Winter.

PLACE: Says Ishgard, but really wherever his family and friends are.

WEATHER: Loves snow, maybe not blizzards, but definitely show showers.

SOUND / S: Silence, tea kettle boiling, pages of books flipping.

SCENT / S: Coerthan cedar; Dravanian Lilies; Furymint.

TASTE / S: Furymint, black tea - lots of salt.

FEEL / S: Wool and mink. Sanded down and polished wood; cold stone.

ANIMAL / S: Likes animals, will not own any. Falcons are his favorite.

NUMBER: 3,582. Specific, but there’s a reason behind it.

COLORS: White, blue, gold.

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Magic and all things magical in nature; the ability to learn new things quickly.

BAD AT: Focusing on anything that is not studying or interesting to him; cooking; can’t swim; bad at dealing with people - even worse if the person is upset.

TURN ONS: Major turn ons include having his hair pulled on, and being embarrassed in public or in front of others. He is attracted to intelligence and someone he can lean on; being attractive is a plus.

TURN OFFS: Needy, or greedy for his attention. Displays low intelligence in situations that do not call for it. Sexually, does not like preforming oral - does not like mouth stuff, whatsoever.

HOBBIES: Reading, teaching, studying new things, traveling/adventuring.

TROPES: Jerk with a Heart of Gold; Big Ego, Hidden Depths; Villain with Good Publicity

QUOTES:

“He is not yours to burn - get out, GET OUT!”

“I have not felt such exhilaration in years…”

“I am not stupid, I am mad. You were a fool to trust me in the first place.”

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 : If you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?

A1 : It would probably be one of those villain origin stories, either of his life growing up; or it would be him slowly going mad - like my Memories!AU. It would be very dark, definitely an R movie, maybe even something horror-esque. As for titles? /shrug I’m no good with those.

Q2 : What would their soundtrack/score sound like?

A2 : Definitely piano, organ, and harpsichord based. Maybe a little violin and cello. Something soft and somewhat haunting.

Q3 : Why did you start writing this character?

A3 : Ha... ha... I don’t want to admit that it gave me a reason to be mean to people lmao. I’m generally a super nice person, a people pleaser, and a rug that everyone walks over. Max’s character was supposed to reflect a couple of things - if I handled my guilt worse than I have irl, and if he were the sarcastic, rude, bastard I have no heart to be.

Q4 : What first attracted you to this character?

A4 : ^^ The above. Max was originally supposed to be young, naive, clumsy, and an anxiety ridden mess; and for the love of god, do not get me started on his original design. He became the opposite of those things, and Lothaire took up the mantle of his original personality.

Q5 : Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5 : Max is an absolute fucking asshat that can’t let things be. Let dead things be dead, kind of thing. Can’t move on. He will definitely step on his friends and family if it meant gaining more power.

Q6 : What do you have in common with your muse?

A6 : The guilt of believing that we are the cause of the death to a loved one. I’m pretty sure I handled it better. We also have a lot of internalized rage.

Q7 : How does your muse feel about you?

A7 : lmao, he probably hates me. I *am* the source of all of his angst and anger, tbh. His life has been a mess and it is literally all my fault.

Q8 : What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ?

A8 : Caromont, Shango, and Amarice - definitely. All three are people who push his ability to be a better person.

Q9 : What gives you inspiration to write your muse ?

A9 : Max is one of those characters that everyday is inspiration for him - it’s just finding the motivation to write. He’s not necessarily my longest running XIV character, but he is certainly one of my favorites to RP.

Q10 : How long did this take you to complete ?

A10 : A while - I lost motivation, forgot it was in my drafts, then got it done during my entire shift at work lmao.

A big ol’ shoutout to @shangomango and @amarice-sovald for their characters and helping shape Max into what he is today.

#tagged answers #about: Maximiloix Voilinaut #the cold truth: tagged

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squigglysquidd · 5 years

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Asks! Cuz I’m a greedy B for your OCs. Parable - do the twins have a favorite human tradition? How often do they see pop pop when they’re adults and what’s that relationship like? What’s Castis’ take on his kids bonding to humans? What are Arcellie’s opinion on Saren falling for Cassia? Does Saren think of Ellie as his mom? Fibonacci- what is Castis’ opinion on humans? Did Nihlus tell Ashlyn “I love you” first? What is something Jana does casually that Garrus finds incredibly hot?

I love all the questions!!!!!

Parable

Do the twins have a favorite human tradition?

Cassia likes the tradition of gathering up the entire family to celebrate certain holidays. A close second is giving gifts on holidays, but turians have some holidays and special occasions like that, so it’s not strictly a human thing. I’d say that turians also gather as families, but not usually with everyone, extended family included. For them, that means everyone from the Normandy and their families joins in on the festivities and that’s not too usual for turians. Turians separate work and life, so it’s not often that they get close enough to fellow soldiers, subordinates, or superiors to end up having huge gatherings for holidays. That, and humans have more holidays that call for it than turians. Seriously, we humans celebrate everything, lol.

Being how they were raised, Damocles can’t really say he has experience to compare it to, but from what he’s learned of turian customs, he can say that he really likes how humans tend to embrace changes when compared to turians. Sure, there are still stubborn prejudices and whatnot, but a huge thing is the fact that even with such a powerful military presence, humans don’t actually force their people into mandatory service. We all know turians require at least some time in the military, but humans are like ‘oh, you want to study music? Well, here ya go. Have fun!’ while turian society would rather you serve your people in some way. Sure, Damocles went into a military of sorts with the Wraiths, but he’s happy that it was his decision to do so, not one forced on him and he has an ulterior motive in liking it because he knows that, had they been in turian society, his best friend and love, Aeson, would have had a hard life. He’s not only a traitor’s son, but he just isn’t cut out for combat of any kind despite Damocles’ every attempt to train him. Aeson’s just too passive in nature and Damocles knows with sobering certainty that his friend probably wouldn’t have survived combat if he was ever thrown into it. (Not much of a demand for fishermen in the military, so Aeson would’ve been forced into a position he wouldn’t have been comfortable in)

How often do they see Pop-pop when they’re adults and what’s that relationship like?

Enjoying travel as much as she does, Cassia sees Pop-pop quite often. Usually, if she’s around his neck of the woods, she’ll stop by. Sometimes they can meet on the Citadel or she’ll see him at his home on Palaven, but she’s also really careful not to directly attract attention to herself because of her family’s notoriety so if he says it isn’t safe to visit for whatever reason, she sticks to vidcalls. Their relationship is really close because she tends to follow a more strict code of morals than her brother. Sure, she doesn’t exactly follow rules, but Castis has long since realized that following regulations may not be in that family’s repertoire. Plus, I don’t think Cassia could ever have a bad relationship with someone even if she tried.

Damocles is different, however. We all know how imposing he looks, and that attracts unwanted attention if he ever goes anywhere. Usually, he only visits Pop-pop when he can manage to hitch a ride on a Wraith transport to Palaven, Palaven being a bit of a safe place for the Vakarians thanks to Primarch Victus’ relation and subtle protection towards them. Damocles gets antsy at Pop-pop’s though, because he can’t do anything that may attract attention. He’s explored the area around Pop-pop’s home to the point he could probably walk it blindfolded and there’s only so many extranet games he can play by himself or with Aeson to keep him occupied in his downtime. He’s also a lot like his father in his rebelliousness and though Castis has cooled some to Garrus and Jane’s ways, they still butt heads at times. Damocles, in these cases, can actually be considered worse than his dad and, unlike Garrus who tries to keep the peace for the most part, Damocles won’t give as easily. Damocles is headstrong and lets emotion rule his thinking in almost every setting, so he’s nearly impossible to effect. It’s because of this that Castis, for once, keeps his stricter morals under check so as not to ruin the few chances he gets to see his grandson.

What Castis’ take on his kids bonding to humans?

Honestly, after all the family has gone through, he’s just happy his kids are happy. He’s learned to accept that Garrus will always go against the grain in terms of turian culture and traditions because he’s learned the hard way after losing Valeria and going through the Reaper War that there could always be a day where it’ll be too late to reconcile with the idea of their differences. Solana’s relationship is much easier to accept because she and James are much more traditional (and he’s got experience with human family thanks to how different Jane is to everything he expected). Years ago, he would’ve put up a fight about it, but now he’s realized that it doesn’t matter the species so long as his children are happy. Life’s too short for pettiness, he’s come to realize, and family doesn’t always mean blood.

What are Arcellie’s opinion on Saren falling for Cassia?

Arcanus is just so damn relieved someone’s there to show his son the ropes in life, so to speak. He sees what being raised in a tank has done in terms of his son’s ability to fit into society and Cassia seems the perfect person to show him the good in actually interacting with other people outside of work. Saren makes it hard enough to get along with as stunted as he is already, so he needs that exact opposite in Cassia to balance it out and give Saren a real life he will enjoy, even if he doesn’t immediately know it.

Ellie thinks it’s really cute. She adores Cassia because she’s just so damn lovable and mature for her age. Ellie was initially really worried Saren wasn’t getting the concept of dealing with people on a personal level, but didn’t know how to go about getting him to open up. To tell the truth, she was actually worried about interacting with him at first because she remembered her colossal failure in a relationship with Arcanus in the beginning and didn’t want to cause a rift between herself, Arcanus, and Saren. She’s hesitant in relationships because she spent so much of her life in secret, so the fact that Cassia and Saren seemed to click from the very beginning is a huge sigh of relief because she’s eventually admitted to herself that she sees Saren as a kind of step-son, even with as untraditional as his ‘birth’ was.

Does Saren think of Ellie as his mom?

Good question. I don’t think he’s ever called her ‘mother’ before or put that word to his feelings towards her, but he unintentionally treats her as one. Arcanus is his father in both genetics, but also in guidance and the shared personality they have, but Ellie is different for him. At first, he didn’t have any kind of emotion to associate with her besides an acceptance and a bit of gratitude because of what she was to his father. It didn’t help that Ellie was wary of what she should be for him too, but eventually, he begins to see Ellie as a person separate from his father and she gains confidence that she isn’t going to ‘mess this up’ because she’s so rusty with relationships. Saren now associates guidance of a different kind with Ellie. There’s just some things that a father can’t teach you and, in interacting with Ellie, he’s learned some things that come from having a mother. Sure, most of it is Cassia’s doing, but he’s learned how to love someone from watching his ‘parents.’ He knows how his father is because he technically ‘is’ his father, but he’s learned how to be tender and what devotion looks like from a different person in seeing how Ellie interacts with Arcanus. He actually goes to her at times when he wants to do something nice for Cassia but doesn’t want Cassia to learn of it. Between her and Jane, all his romanticism has pretty much been learned by his ‘mother’ and mother-in-law.

Fibonacci

What is Castis’ opinion on humans?

As Primarch, he is wary of humans. Still so young to the whole of Eros and its politics, he thinks they are too demanding of attention and a place in the government (at least, that was before Sovereign) because it was like they came in and wanted a voice without actually proving they could handle the responsibility. We have to remember that their first act was to wage a small war with his people because they wanted to expand and didn’t think of diplomacy when the turians stood their ground, instead of seeing it as an invitation for battle. He still doesn’t trust many humans and sees undeserving arrogance in many dignitaries, but Jon and Garrus’ belief in him has helped Castis see the good in them. It’s why, after Sovereign’s attack, Castis reached out to King Stephan Hackett to propose trade lines between their peoples. He was happy to learn that the King was closer to Jon than Udina in thinking, so it’s helped him to be more open to humans when it comes to meeting individuals instead of a blanket view of them from what he sees of their representatives.

Did Nihlus tell Ashlin ‘I love you’ first?

Actually, he didn’t outright say it in a human way. Ashlin was the first one to put it to words, but he was courting her for a long time in a turian way with gifts and subvocals. They finally got to that point once he realized his attempts didn’t seem to be getting noticed and learned human poetry to impress her and express his feelings in a way she’d enjoy (she likes poetry in this AU). His poem is pretty much a love confession without saying the word, so it led to Ashlin finally putting the word out there in her response. Really, they were kinda idiots about the whole love thing in the beginning, lol

What is something that Jana does casually that Garrus finds incredibly hot?

Before they’re a pair, he has a weird interest in her hair as well as her eyes. He hasn’t seen many people with long hair like waves of fire or eyes that shift with the colors of the earth (her eyes are hazel). Like many fighters with long hair, she tends to keep it up or done so that it’s out of the way, but she’s just like any other woman and has to brush it. When she does, and he sees it, he’s almost entranced with the way it flows. Fire is powerful to Alysim and the image of someone running their fingers and a comb through it is almost unearthly.

Once they’re together, it’s her little touches that drive him absolutely insane. Turians aren’t touchy by nature and she usually wouldn’t be either in public, but she does it a lot as a way of grounding herself in this new reality. She doesn’t want to lose him like she did her husband, so she’s always reminding herself with touch and even kisses and after a life without any sort of partner to speak of, he’s starved for affection without even knowing it at first. Sure, he’s had touches from his family, but never a romantic partner, and once they’re a pair, they are both very touch-oriented in and outside the bedroom. It’s actually kinda cute how surprised he is by just how good being touched, hugged, and kissed feels even without it ever leading to sex.

Thanks so much for the asks!!! I loved them!!!

#Parable #Damcoles Vakarian #Cassia Vakarian #Saren Reguix #Arcanus Reguix #Ellie Hunter #Arcellie #Cassia x Saren #Castis Vakarian #Primarch Castis Vakarian #Fibonacci #Papa Vakarian #Atheling Garrus Vakarian #Garrus Vakarian #Female Shepard #Shakarian #Jana Shepard #wafflesrock16

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mercurykelly · 5 years

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Day Five -- A long-held goal realized: Mesa Verde

Up close and personal -- my first view of Cliff Palace

I’m up early, hoping to arrive at the park as soon as it opens at 8 AM. After luxuriating in my hot tub last night, I washed out a few items and hung them to dry. I am now shocked to find that all of these items dried overnight. It would take two or maybe three days for them to dry under similar circumstances in Seattle. I cleverly deduce that this area must be very dry indeed. (Continue reading below.)

Cliff Palace from an overlook

Balcony House through a telescope

Spruce Tree House

DAY FIVE -- A long-held goal realized: Mesa Verde

I eat a quick bowl of oatmeal at Holiday Inn’s free breakfast and head out into a lovely sunny morning. I’ve wanted to visit Mesa Verde for more than 20 years and intend to devote this entire day to it. The last time I drove through here on my way to visit my sister and her new twin girls (who are about to turn 21, OMG) I didn’t plan well enough and didn’t have time to tour the park, for which you need a minimum of three hours to see anything at all. I now plan to make up for that omission.

I stop at the Park Entrance Station where I get in a short line to buy a ticket for a ranger-led tour. There are three tours listed: Cliff Palace, Balcony House and Long House, however today only the Cliff Palace tour is available. Signs warn that the tour of Cliff Palace is very strenuous so I fret while waiting in line, worried that the tour might be more than I can handle. When it’s my turn to talk to the ranger selling tickets, I ask for more details about the tour. She tells me I will have to negotiate 4 ten-foot ladders and walk over uneven and rocky ground. I reason (under my breath) that if I managed to climb to the top of St. Paul’s Cathedral only six months ago, I should be able to manage this.

So you want a ticket? Yes, please. I expect it to be expensive, but the price is just $5.00. When I express surprise at the minimal fee, the ranger says, if you want to spend big money you can buy a tour from the private company that contracts out for us. She jerks her head in the direction of a desk manned by someone who does not appear to be a ranger. I consider this option briefly, but per the sign these tours are long (nine hours!) and involve being driven around the park in a huge bus (I hate being a captive audience) so I decide to explore the rest of the park on my own after seeing the Cliff Palace.

My tour is scheduled for 10:00 AM. After selling me a ticket, the ranger says I have plenty of time to get there as long as I don’t dawdle – it’s an hour-long drive to the top of the mesa. She gives me a map and marks the spot where the tour will begin. An hour! Yikes. I skip the exhibits and head out to my car.

At the park entrance, I point to the senior pass hanging from my rear-view mirror and ask the ranger if she needs anything else. At Canyonlands I was waved through on the strength of this pass, but at Mesa Verde I have to show an ID and submit my pass for close scrutiny. I suppose this is an indication of how popular this park is – nothing is taken for granted.

To get to the heart of the park, I now follow a road that winds 1500 feet up the side of the mesa. The elevation in Cortez is 6200 feet; now I will be climbing to over 8000. The road to the top of the mesa must be taken slowly as it is very narrow with hairpin turns. (For the first years of the park’s existence, this was a graded dirt, one-way road. Before a vehicle started up the road to the top of the mesa, a telephone call (from a phone box at the bottom) made sure no one was on their way down, then all downwards traffic was held until the caller arrived at the top. (I learned this fascinating fact by reading a book called “Our Trip to Mesa Verde 1922” that I purchased in the gift shop later.)

I drive straight to the meeting spot for the tour and am the first to arrive. Due to a recent rockfall that has closed the usual entrance, our tour will enter Cliff Palace at the same place we exit. Soon there are several of us waiting for the ranger to show up. I strike up a conversation with a couple of women who appear to be about my age and mention the fact that I am traveling alone. They are suitably impressed. I show off a little: travel when you want, where you want, I say, and they nod appreciatively. I briefly sketch out my route and mention that I stopped to see the Great Salt Lake. They want to know what I thought of it. The question feels loaded so I hedge a bit. Well it seemed quite nice this time, but my last visit wasn’t quite as positive. (Trying to say both that I liked it and also that I didn’t, so I can take my cue from their reaction. But I never quite decide what they think of the lake or why they asked. I get a sense that they might live near Salt Lake and are not terribly impressed.)

They ask if I have any sunscreen, so I get some out of my car. Then I ask if they have any ibuprofen as the headache I woke up with is unrelenting. They do. It’s a good trade and there are smiles all round. These brief friendly encounters are one of the best parts of travel. (I realize later that I was probably suffering from low-grade altitude sickness during my stay in Cortez and Mesa Verde. In spite of taking ibuprofen the headache stayed with me the entire day.)

Our tour guide shows up. At exactly 10 o’clock she leads us down a short trail to the ladders. She tells us we will go down one by one and after descending we are to follow the path to the right and join her near the ruins where we will wait for everyone to climb down and join us. There are four 10-foot ladders made out of rounded, bark-free, tourist-worn tree trunks about six inches in width and a yard long which although precipitous are fairly easy to negotiate. I make the mistake of taking my walking sticks with me (because we were warned that we would have to traverse uneven ground) and they make my descent much clumsier, clanking against the rungs of the ladder and even getting caught up behind them. I have to move carefully and make sure every step is secure and the sticks make it difficult as it seems I am untangling them constantly. Even with these issues, I’m not the slowest by any means, which is a relief. (Several are slower including a woman with acrophobia who takes so long to descend and needs so much help the ranger has to start the tour without her.)

After successfully negotiating the ladders I follow a well-worn trail around the rock face and suddenly the Cliff Palace ruins are before me – a sandstone city of towers, living and storage rooms, kivas and open work areas. It looks just like the photos I’ve studied and for some reason this seems incredible – a long-treasured wish suddenly coming true. After years of wanting to see this site now it’s right in front of me and I’m overwhelmed.

I find it impossible to see these structures and not also feel intrigued by the mysteries that can never be answered. Why did these ancient people move from the top of the mesa where they had lived from AD 550 to AD 1200 and down into the cliffs? Why did they suddenly abandon the cliff dwellings in AD 1300, leaving behind many prized possessions such as mats, ceramic vessels and stores of food? There are many theories, but it is impossible to answer these questions definitively. What an enigmatic and evocative place.

Our ranger is knowledgeable and enthusiastic. She tells us that Mesa Verde has been a national park since 1906 and that it was the first park established to protect cultural and archaeological treasures rather than natural wonders. The archaeological sites needed protection as they were increasingly being plundered by travelers and explorers. Even the man given credit for discovering the ruins – Richard Wetherill—is considered by some to be more plunderer than archaeologist.

The ruins are empty now, their contents scattered across the country in museums. It seems a shame that it isn’t possible to see the pottery and other artifacts in the place they originated. I promise myself that I will visit some of these museums in the near future, to get a better feel for the people who lived here.

But at least the ruins remain. Our guide tells us that Cliff Palace contains 150 rooms, 75 open areas, and 21 kivas. There are both round and square towers and many storage rooms and granaries. She shares some of the theories about the use of Cliff Palace – some believe it was a residence for several families, some believe it was largely a ceremonial site with a few people caring for it and living in residence. Some believe it was used strategically during conflict. When she talks about the reason the inhabitants abandoned these dwellings, she discusses factors that may have contributed to their decision – several years of drought in the years immediately before their departure, for instance. She concludes by saying she believes they moved on because, based on their culture and beliefs, it was simply time to go.

Although our guide has a wealth of knowledge about Mesa Verde and the people who lived here, (she tells us she has worked as an archaeologist in this area for years) she is too matter of fact for my liking. I long to hear someone speculate about the past and weave stories about the people who used to be called the Anasazi. (Researchers and archaeologists stopped using this term when they realized it was a Navajo word meaning ancient enemy.) The current and more accurate name for the people who lived in Mesa Verde is Ancestral Puebloans.

The tour ends and we now have to climb back up the ladders. It’s considerably harder than climbing down, even worse than I anticipated. I stop between each section of ladder and try to briefly catch my breath—briefly, because I don’t want to be obviously incapable – which has more to do with pride than anything else. There is no question that the altitude is affecting me, especially while climbing these four ten-foot ladders. When I get to the top I’m gasping, heart racing, and wishing I’d thought to bring along my inhaler, which I rarely need but could really use now.

There are several benches at the top of the ladders – placed strategically for tourists who need to stop and catch their breath. I’m surprised to see that it’s not only we older folks who need to rest after the climb—people 30 years younger than me are panting and gasping as well. The unfortunate woman with acrophobia is nowhere to be seen.

I return to my car, with plans to drive around the top of the mesa and see as much of the park as is possible in a day of touring. There is so much more to see – the park contains 5000 archeological sites, including 600 cliff dwellings. Of course, only a small fraction of these are available to tour – but even so, there is far more than can be seen in one day: Spruce Tree House, Fire House Ruins, Square Tower House Overlook, Oak Tree House Ruins, Sunset House, Balcony House, Mesa Top, Long House, Step House – the list goes on and on. I do my best and drive to as many of these as I can. One of the highlights of Mesa Verde is Balcony House, so I walk out about ¾ of a mile to a spot where you can view it from across a canyon. There is a telescope you can train on the site for a closer look and I manage to take a photograph through this telescope. (The round photo above.)

I also check out the Mesa Top ruins, where the Ancestral Puebloans lived hundreds of years longer than they lived in the cliff dwellings, and drive both the Cliff Palace and Mesa Top Loops, stopping frequently to walk to overlooks and examine excavated ruins.

It is late in the afternoon when I make it to the Chapin Mesa Archaeological Museum. Spruce Tree House Overlook is nearby and there is a lovely paved path on which you can walk down for a closer look but by this point I am so exhausted I don’t feel able to walk even this short distance. (For someone who can only manage a flying visit, this is definitely the place to go – The Spruce Tree House is an impressive site and easy to get to, plus it is within walking distance of a café, museum and bookstore. If you were pressed for time you could hit just this one area of the park.)

Although feeling very tired I manage to visit the bookstore, where I overdo it as usual and buy four (!) books about Mesa Verde because I am still longing for more – I want something I can take with me and savor after this day is over. Also, I hope the books will satisfy some of the curiosity I still feel about the people who lived here and their fate.

One of the books is simply for fun: a Nevada Barr mystery (this is a fun series with a female protagonist who is a ranger who moves from national park to national park, solving a different mystery in each. I had read the mystery set in Mesa Verde many years earlier – (so long ago I could no longer remember who-done-it.) It was fun to reread and this time around be able to recognize many of the landmarks and know that I had actually set foot in many of them!)

I also buy a very short tract written by three young women who visited the park in 1920 (they walked to Mesa Verde from their homes in Colorado), another book based on interviews with Marietta Wetherill, wife of Richard who excavated extensively here and in Chaco Canyon. My fourth book ends up being the best of the lot – I buy it because it appears to be a book that will satisfy my craving for more detailed information about the people who lived here -- a book that will bring those early days to life and provide answers or at least speculation about their lives and motivations: “House of Rain” by Craig Childs. The research and effort that went into his book is astounding. What a luxury to have someone do extensive research (including many long walks across the desert), interview archaeologists and scientists, and pull together all of these many threads of knowledge into a cohesive whole. Even better, Childs can write like a dream—the kind of writing you just fall into. I highly recommend it.

In addition to these books I buy souvenirs for myself and family, then head over to the cafe and grab a late lunch. By this point I’ve reached the end of my endurance and am ready to head back to my hot tub. I’ve seen a lot, and even though I can’t see everything (I don’t make it to the Wetherill Mesa, where Step House and Long House are located), I have finally satisfied some of my curiosity about Mesa Verde. I drive down off the mesa and return to my motel room, so exhausted I don’t have the energy to walk across the parking lot for a meal.

But all I saw and experienced today makes the extreme exhaustion worth it. I am as pleased with my efforts as I would be if I ran a marathon or hiked a mountain – the exhaustion is just a symptom of having explored and learned to the utmost. And the things I did and saw today couldn’t be a more perfect match for my personal interests and inclinations – beautiful scenery, fascinating ruins, and enough information to imagine how life was lived hundreds of years ago. I loved every minute of it.

#MesaVerde #FourCorners #travelinglady #traveladdict #roadtrip #ancestralpuebloans

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hovercraft79 · 5 years

Text

Hello

Chapters: 1

Word Count: 5,813

Fandom: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)

Rating: Teen

Warnings: smoking, bitterness

Notes: We all know what kind of roller-coaster Series 3 was for the fandom. As I said, though, there were so many holes. This is my attempt to fill one of those holes – essentially, when Ada met Hecate. I’ve kept everything within canon (though I did keep the 13-year age difference between Ada and Hecate, there’s certainly room for Ada to be older than that). If you notice anything that I missed feel free to let me know. This is using the ‘First Time’ prompt.

Thanks so much to @cosmic-llin for organizing this event again! You’re awesome!

The title comes from Lionel Ritchie’s song of the same name.

This one is making its way into the wilds without Sparky’s oversight. We can all hope for the best. Or wait for the one I post to AO3 after she’s had a chance to correct my grammatical tomfoolery.

_______

Staring up at the castle, she snapped her fingers and a lit cigarette appeared at once. She took a deep drag, blowing a dense cloud of smoke across the lawn. It all looked exactly the same as it did the last time she was here, some fifteen years ago. Another drag, another cloud of blue-gray smoke. Another time, she thought. She raked her fingers through her windblown hair, or tried to anyway. The tangled mess refused to cooperate.

“You’re hardly the picture of a proper headmistress, Ada.” Alma Cackle appeared in front of her daughter, waving the cigarette smoke away.

“Criticizing before you’ve even fully materialized, Mother? That’s quick, even for you.” Ada dropped her cigarette onto the grass and crushed it with her boot. “Good thing I’m not a headmistress, then.” She placed the back of her hand to her forehead. “Well met, Mother.”

“Welcome home, Ada. You’ve been gone too long. It’s time you started preparing for your birthright.” Alma transferred Ada’s belongings to her rooms. “I’ve cleared Miss Drill’s old room for you. It’s been empty since she retired to spend more time with little Dimity.”

Rolling her eyes, Ada nonetheless followed her mother into the castle. “I don’t reckon you’ll see me in traditional witches robes any time soon.”

Alma sighed but didn’t argue. “Have you spoken to your sister lately?”

“She sends her regards,” Ada said, suddenly very tired. They’d spoken, all right. Agatha’s angry words still scraped along inside her skull. Favorite. Betrayal. Abandoned. Why didn’t Agatha understand that she didn’t have any more choice in this than she did? Both of them were forced to live out destinies based on which name was listed first on a birth scroll.

It’s not like she’d asked for this.

She’d spent the last fifteen years being anywhere but here. She’d left for Weirdsister’s the week after she’d finished her final term at Cackle’s. She’d stayed for summer terms, spent holidays with friends whenever she could and taken an entire year to broomstick across Europe sometimes with Agatha, sometimes not. She’d taken her teaching credentials to Moonridge High School and then on to Amulet’s Academy. Now she was back. Home, she supposed. Her mother had left no room for argument. In three years, Alma would retire, and Ada would be headmistress. It was time for Ada to assume her place. She’d start by teaching a few Potions classes, lifting the load from the insufferable Miss Gullet. On top of that, she would be Deputy Head Mistress, learning the ins and outs of running an academy. It all seemed rather bleak and planned out as far as she was concerned.

“Do you have your lesson plans sorted yet?” Alma asked. “You’re taking over the first and second years, correct?”

“Everything is ready, Mother. I’ve taught Potions before, you know.”

“But you haven’t taught it here, Ada. I’ll not have my own daughter coddling the girls. Cackle’s has a long—”

“A long tradition of top marks in Potions, yes, Mother, I know.”

Alma was about to reply when Miss Gullet interrupted her.

“Don’t you fret, Mrs. C. I’ll keep an eye out for her.” Miss Gullet reached across and patted Ada’s hand. “After all, you couldn’t ask for a better mentor than yours truly.”

Gwen Bat, the Chanting teacher, threw her napkin onto the table. “I rather think I could, Miss Gullet.” She pushed away from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Cackle, I’ve lost my appetite.” She walked stiffly away, disappearing before she’d even gotten halfway to the door.

Blinking back and forth between Miss Gullet and her mother, Ada wondered what that was all about.

“Oh, never you mind that old witch.” Miss Gullet waved Gwen away. “She’s been in a mood ever since that dodgery old wizard did a runner on her.”

Ada looked at her mother, but Alma just shook her head. Later, she supposed, she’d have to get the story later. For now, Ada would be content to get through dinner and retire to her rooms. A headache pricked just behind her left eyebrow and she felt certain that a tumbler of Witches Brew would be just the trick for getting rid of it.

For the third time, Ada ran her finger along the spine of each book on the library shelf. She couldn’t quite believe that Thornapple’s Advanced Potionry wasn’t there. Humming softly, Ada checked the adjoining shelves, just in case. She didn’t find it there, either. Hands on hips, she huffed her hair out of her eyes in frustration. Ada glanced around as if she didn’t already know she was standing in the restricted section of the library. Students weren’t allowed to check these books out. They weren’t even allowed in this section without explicit permission. Ada blanched as a long-forgotten memory wriggled its way out of her brain.

“Will you two be quiet! We’ll never hear the end of it if Mother catches us in here!” She leaned over Mona until the she shrank back, huddling next to Ada. “And if I miss the dance at Weirdsister’s next week, you’ll never hear the end of it from me.” Agatha whipped around and continued sneaking through the library. “And put that light out!”

“I still don’t see why this dance is sooooo bloody important,” Mona griped.

Once again Agatha spun around and glared. “Because Georgie Wintercherry will be there, which means Judith Starling will be there. Which means I will be there. No silly rule that you have to be at least seventeen is going to keep me out of that dance. That toad isn’t getting her claws in him if I can help it. If you weren’t such a little girl, you’d know that.”

“Toads don’t have claws—”

“Shut UP, Mona!” Agatha hissed.

“Well they don’t! And I don’t know what you’re on about – you’re three months older than me. Ada’s older than you!”

“Don’t get me started on that bloody thirteen minutes.”

Ada shook her head, pulling herself back to the present, though she couldn’t keep her eyes from finding the volume they’d been after that night. They’d found it then, too, but hadn’t been powerful enough to make it work. Agatha hadn’t been able to sneak into the Weirdsister’s dance and Judith had indeed gotten her claws into Georgie – their oldest girl would soon be entering Cackle’s. Looking back, Ada realized that night was probably when the seed for the plan to take their mother’s power had been planted in the garden of Agatha’s brain. Oh well, Ada thought, it doesn’t pay to travel down some old roads. Gathering up the rest of her books, she made her way to the circulation desk, reminding herself to smile at each student as she passed.

“Ada!” Miss Inkwell wriggled a pinky in the air. “I mean, Miss Cackle,” she said in her poshest voice. Ada rolled her eyes dropped her books onto the library counter, thunking much louder than Ada intended. A dozen heads popped up, as curious students looked to see who was making all the noise.

“Sorry, girls!” Ada ducked her head and waved. “Carry on.” She turned to Miss Inkwell and grimaced.

“Don’t worry about it, Ada. You probably just woke half of them up.” She pulled Ada’s books towards her. “Gracious, you do have a bit of light reading planned.” Her eyes widened as she read the titles. “These are some advanced potions books, even for Fifth Years.”

“It’s really for me, just trying to keep the old quill sharp.” Ada tapped her temple with a long red fingernail. “Um… I wasn’t able to find quite everything I was looking for. The card catalog shows that we should have a copy of Thornapple’s Advanced Potionry in the restricted section, but I can’t seem to find it. I can’t imagine that someone would check it out.

“Thornapple’s?” Her eyes widened when she heard the title. “Ada… that’s some advanced work, even for Fifth Years… surely, you aren’t…”

“Merlin’s beard, no! I’d rather live to a ripe old age. The truth is, it’s been a while since I’ve taught Potions, I’ve been teaching Spell Science for the past eight years. I need to brush up.”

“I see… best get cracking then.” Miss Inkwell summoned a well-worn box with a drawer, its walnut finish darkened by age. “Let me just check on that book for you.” She slid open the drawer and expert fingers flipped through the cards. “Oh! Why yes, it is checked out, but it’s due back in on Tuesday. I’ll set it aside for you.” Smiling sympathetically up at Ada, she was just closing the drawer when a loud crack and puff of yellow smoke came from the far end of the library. “Let me just…” She held up a finger and transferred away.

Ada glanced back towards the sound but decided Miss Inkwell would have things well in hand. She pulled the drawer around to sneak a peek at the card. Maybe she could ask whoever had it if they were finished with it. She pulled out the card and read the name: H. Hardbroom, written in precise script. Ada thought she’d met everyone on staff, but apparently, she hadn’t. A second puff of smoke wafted over the bookshelves. Sighing, Ada transferred into the thick of it.

“Stop fussing with the collar, Ada,” Alma said without looking up from her paperwork.

“It itches.” Ada tugged again at the offending collar.

“Hmpf.” Ada pretended to check her list of preparations for the Yule Party. The jumper was warmer than her motorcycle jacket, but she’d never admit that to her mother. She’d already stopped wearing her concert t-shirts, mostly, bowing to her mother’s persistent insistence that they weren’t professional enough, even if they were hidden under her robes. She knew her mother wouldn’t be satisfied until Ada wore the same drab skirts and frumpy jumpers that she did. Never, Ada vowed to herself, no bulky jumpers – sleek power suits would be her signature outfit once she was Headmistress. “I’m going down to the kitchens. I want to go over the preparations for the Yule Dinner with Mrs. Tapioca.” If she expected more than a grunt from her mother, Ada didn’t get it.

Ada opened the doors to the hurly-burly of the kitchen and realized immediately that she was in the way. Pressing herself against the wall, she finally spotted Mrs. Tapioca on the other side of the kitchen, going through an order of produce with a young woman Ada didn’t recognize. Holding her breath, Ada made her way across the kitchen, dodging floating pots of boiling soup, flying vegetables, and a near-miss with the backswing of a meat cleaver. She reached Mrs. Tapioca just as the unfamiliar witch transferred away. “Bouncing bats, Edna! I had no idea it would be so… chaotic!”

Edna Tapioca laughed a raspy, acid-washed laugh. “Just you wait, Miss Cackle. Now that the last of the produce is here, we can really get our skates on.” She passed off the basket of vegetables to a kitchen witch that scurried by. “What can I do for you?”

Ada picked up a sheet of paper that had been blown off the table by the passing witch: the receipt for the produce. Ada scanned the items, impressed at the variety of plants available at this time of year. The name at the bottom caught her eye, H. Hardbroom, written in the same neat script she remembered from the library. She turned to ask Mrs. Tapioca about her but was cut off by the squawking of three different time-crows going off at once. Now was certainly not the time. With a jaunty wave to Mrs. Tapioca and a shouted ‘good luck’ to the rest of the kitchen witches, Ada transferred out into the hallway. Breathing in the sudden quiet, she wrapped her jumper tighter around her chest and began the long trudge back to her mother’s office.

“Have you finished with the expense reports yet, Ada? We need to pay this month’s bills before next month’s get here.”

“Almost, Mother, there’s one that doesn’t make any sense.” She levitated a notice to her mother’s desk. “It’s for a grocery delivery, but not to here, to Darkwood Cottage.”

Alma didn’t even glance at the paper, she just flicked her fingers and sent it floating back to Ada. “Just pay it.”

“Why would I pay it? Why would groceries be delivered to Darkwood?” Ada snatched the bill from the air. “I’ll speak to the grocers; I’m sure it’s a simple mista—”

“Pay it, Ada!” Alma barked. Forcing her voice back to calmness, she went on, “It isn’t a mistake.”

Alma took her glasses off and spent a very long time cleaning them with a cloth she’d magicked up. Ada held her tongue, certain that any more pushing on her part would shut the entire topic down.

Finally, Alma put her glasses back on and looked up with the saddest, weariest eyes Ada ever remembered seeing in her mother’s face. “I guess you may as well know now, you’ll become the Sealkeeper once you take over as Headmistress.”

“Sealkeeper? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Ada felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle.

“No. You wouldn’t have, thank the heavens. It’s old magic. I think Hecate is the last witch requiring a Sealkeeper.” Alma gestured to the chairs in front of the fireplace and summoned her tea set. “Not quite ten years after you’d graduated, I think you were at Moonridge at the time…” Alma poured herself a cup of tea, thinking. “No matter,” she said at last. “You’d been gone a while and we’d started a new term and we were just getting to know our new girls but there was one… Oi, Ada, she was a real stand out. Bright, lively, clever little thing. Still holds the record for the highest scores on her entrance exams. Her name was Joy – and if ever a girl was suited to her name, it was her. Joy Hardbroom.”

“Hardbroom? As in the Hardbroom that sells us produce? That checks out books from the restricted section of the library?” Alma nodded and sipped her tea. “Hang on then… aren’t the Hardbrooms also that old-fashioned family that keeps lobbying to bring back the boundary rules that separated us from the Ordinary world?”

“That’s the one. Remember that about them, it’s important.” She summoned a plate of biscuits and offered one to Ada. “They were a very serious family. Very rigid in their adherence to the Code and they’d brought Joy up in a very strict, very structured household. But like I said, Joy was bright, curious, vivacious. I think coming to Cackle’s was the first time she’d ever had any sort of freedom at all.”

Ada frowned. This already sounded like a story with a bad ending. “What happened? When Joy got all this freedom…something had to have happened.”

“To this day I don’t know where she got the idea, but during her second year she decided to sneak down to the village one weekend.” Alma vanished her teacup and hoisted herself to her feet then started pacing in front of the fireplace. “Seems the girl spent weeks in the library working out how to get past the wards. Too clever for her own good it turned out. That first trip to the village was like getting dosed with Faerie dust. She went back again and again. Found an Ordinary girl with just enough magic that she could see through the Concealment spell.”

“How is that even possible? If she could see…” Ada joined her mother at the fireplace. “What happened? Did the girl expose Joy as a witch?”

“Breaking one of our highest laws. Imelda wanted her expelled. Immediately. I… well… after what happened with your sister… I wanted to give her another chance. Imelda went to the Great Witch and fortunately, she sided with me. Joy wouldn’t be expelled, but she would be confined to the Academy for the remainder of her schooling.” Alma shrugged. “It seemed reasonable. She could go with her parents on holidays, but during term she would be confined to the school grounds.”

“But something else happened, didn’t it?” Ada did a few quick calculations. “She’s got to be twenty-three… twenty-four? Why does she get groceries from Cackle’s?”

“I need to show you something. Come along.” Alma held her hand out. Ada stared at it for a handful of seconds before grasping it.

“You wouldn’t.” Alma stepped up and brushed some dirt and leaves from the shoulders. “This is Indigo Moon, the friend Joy made in town. Her best friend.”

“How…” Ada snatched her hand off the girl’s arm. “How did this happen?”

“Loneliness. I don’t think anyone understood just how lonely Joy was. I know I didn’t. I should have, though. When her parents refused to pick her up on holidays, I should have seen about her, but she insisted she was fine. Turns out, she was miserable - isolated and lonely. Desperate for her friend.”

Ada brushed tears out of her eyes. She wasn’t one to break the Code, but surely they had to see that sometimes what a young witch needed was understanding. She turned back to Indigo Moon. “How did this happen, Mother?”

“I don’t reckon I need to tell you what happens when you give magic to a non-magical person, do I?” Alma asked once she’d settled herself back in her chair.

“Eventually, yes, that’s the punishment she received. She would remain confined to the Academy grounds for as long as the girl remained stone.”

“But she was a child!” Ada threw her hands into the air. “This is just like Agatha! One mistake and your whole life gets taken away from you?”

“The Code is the Code for a reason, Ada!” Alma pointed towards the forest. “What about that little girl out there, Ada? Her life got taken away as well.”

“Don’t try to defend this, this, abomination of a decision that you imposed on a child!”

“But you didn’t try and prevent it, did you, Mother?” Ada was shouting now. “She was a child, Mother, and you just let her life be ruined, exactly like you did Agatha.”

Ada sucked in a lungful of air so fast she choked.

“Hecate?”

Ada dropped into the chair across from her mother. An Ordinary life with no magic but freedom? Or a life with magic but no freedom? Ada wasn’t sure they’d really done Joy or, Hecate, any favors. “And no one’s been able to reverse the spell?” She knew the answer before her mother shook her head. “So, what did you do with her?”

“Do? I did whatever I could for her. I gave her as much freedom as I could. I gave her free reign in the library so she could try and find a spell or potion to restore Indigo. I brought in a counselor once a week to help her deal with her guilt and shame.”

“Did it work?”

“For a time. It took a while, but eventually, thanks to one very persistent young witch, she made new friends. She had a new best friend, but it all fell apart when they graduated. I think that’s when it truly became real for Hecate, when she watched them all leave but she couldn’t.” Alma shrugged. “As for her future… I made sure there was no mention of any of this on her school record and arranged for correspondence courses. I helped her arrange for a tutor so she could get her teaching credentials in case she ever wanted to work as a teacher here. She hasn’t wanted to teach here, and I don’t blame her. She moved to Darkwood Cottage and keeps to herself. We provide her needs and purchase her vegetables and potions ingredients. On very rare occasions I’ve been able to persuade her to join us for the odd ritual or holiday.”

Ada leaned back in her chair. It was a lot to take in. “Am I her… jailor? Warden?”

“NO!” Alma snapped. “If it were up to me, she would have been free to leave years ago. Her original crime isn’t even a crime anymore. “But it isn’t up to me,” she sighed. The Great Witch placed the wards herself and only she or her successor can undo them. As long as Indigo Moon remains stone, Hecate is confined to Cackle’s. If Indigo is ever restored, you’ll be able to remove the ward. It doesn’t happen automatically.” Alma summoned a bottle of wine and two glasses. Ada accepted hers gratefully. “Truthfully, Ada, I don’t think she’d leave even if she could. I don’t think she’d leave Indigo behind.”

Ada downed her glass in a single gulp and immediately poured another. Some days, she really wished Agatha had been born first.

“What do you mean, we’re out?” Ada stared at the empty cupboard. “How can we be out? I know we ordered more than enough nettles.” Mrs. Tapioca wrung her hands for an answer. “What happened to the ones we had?”

Ada shook her head, trying desperately to keep her cool. The nettles were the main ingredient in the traditional soup served on Selection Day – the very same soup that Chistobelle Cackle had served the first class of girls over a millennium ago. Ada wasn’t about to be the one that broke that tradition – or told her mother that they couldn’t make the proper soup. “Where can we get more? The market?”

“Sorry, Miss, I tried them straight away. We cleaned them out with our first order. I tried the other markets, too.” Her hands twisted harder. “I’m so sorry, Miss Cackle…”

“It isn’t your fault, Mrs. Tapioca. You were hardly responsible for a plague of locusts.” She squeezed the cook’s arm. “Go on and get done what you can. I’ll try to come up with something.” Ada nodded, trying desperately to convey confidence she didn’t feel.

Ada strode down the corridor, her heart and feet both flying as she raced to the potion’s storeroom. She rifled through every shelf, adrenalin sparking like magic when she spotted a jar labelled ‘nettles,’ but it crashed just as quickly when she pulled the jar down and saw they were spiny-leafed nettles. Her temper started sparking along with her adrenalin. Miss Gullet caused this whole disaster, or allowed it, yet she was nowhere to be found when it was time to put things right. Trying to think clearly, Ada studied the jars and boxes, trying to find anything that might work as a substitute, but there was nothing.

She slid down the wall, cradling her head in her hands. Why did she ever think she would be capable of being Headmistress. She felt something roll against her foot, a jar of dried flower petals. She turned the jar and read the label – Dog’s Mercury. The label was handwritten in small, neat script. Ada’s eyes narrowed – she recognized this handwriting. It was the same handwriting she’d been seeing on the grocery receipts. For produce. Hecate Hardbroom’s handwriting. It was a long shot, Ada knew that. But… She pushed herself to her feet and summoned her broom. She could be at Darkwood Cottage in less than an hour. “What do I have to lose?” She muttered to no one in particular as she mounted her broom.

The door swung open and Ada found herself face to face with a beanpole of a young woman. She looked down at Ada with eyebrows raised impossibly high – whether that was from surprise at finding Ada on her doorstep or the severe bun that sat atop her head, Ada couldn’t know.

Smiling as brightly as she could, Ada bowed deeply. “Well met, Miss Hardbroom. I do apologize for showing up unannounced.” Dark eyes traveled up and down Ada’s body, frowning, and once again Ada wished she’d taken the time to change. “Please forgive my appearance, it’s been a rather hectic day.” The young woman was still staring at her and Ada couldn’t tell if it was confusion or distaste that was winning the battle for her expression. She held her hand out, hoping that would break the tension. “I’m Ada—”

“Mother told me.”

“I’m sorry for the burden I’ve placed on you.” Hecate turned around and made her way into the pantry, returning a moment later with a pair of wicker baskets. “I know where to find what you need. I can transfer us there in a moment, if you’ll allow me?”

“You’ve saved my skin, Miss Hardbroom,” Ada said as she helped Hecate clean the baskets and put them away. “I didn’t fancy having to tell Mother we couldn’t make the traditional soup.”

“Thank you for the invitation, Miss Cackle, but—”

“That’s a yes, then? Excellent!” Ada’s cheeky grin was contagious and soon the younger woman was agreeing to go.

Ada thought a moment. Hecate’s work, no doubt, consisted almost entirely of trying to find a potion that would release Indigo Moon. She’d seen the bookshelves filled with journals and a quick peek at an open one on the kitchen table had Ada itching to read more. “That’s something we have in common then, isn’t it?” Ada asked, leaning on her broom. “We’re both tied to this place, in one way or another. I hope that we might be friends.”

Hecate blinked in surprise – then blinked again, trying to keep tears at bay. “That would be… I don’t... If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Ada said, holding a hand out as she mounted her broom. “I’ll see you at the banquet, then? It’s at the usual time.”

Hecate reached out and shook Ada’s hand. “At the banquet. I’ll be there early, in case you need an extra pair of hands.”

“Well met, Hecate Hardbroom. I’ll see you then.” Ada pushed off and made her way back to the castle, certain that she’d just met someone extraordinary.

#hackle summer trope challenge #hackle #Hecate Hardbroom #Ada Cackle

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unholyhelbiglinked · 5 years

Text

Dead Ivy | Chapter One

CHECK IT OUT FROM THE START | AO3 LINK

“Do you remember when I fell out of this tree and broke my arm?” She asked.

“I do.” He chuckled wearily, “I got a call at work that something had happened. You scared the hell out of me that day, kid.”

C + B FOREVER & EVER

“She still lives around here, you know? Owns a little café in the far side of town.”

“That so?”

“Right. Well, we should probably go back inside. The quicker we talk to everyone, the quicker they can go home and mourn their memories.”

Beca felt a twinge of guilt in her gut.

“As I live and breathe.”

“God, how are you?” She pulled away, “That’s a stupid question… I mean, as well as you can be, I hope.”

“I’m doing fine,” She finally managed, earning a detrimental look. “As well as I can be.”

“I’m sorry to hear about him, you know.” Stacie finally said after a beat of silence.

“You and most of the town,” Beca chuckled dryly, begging for a change of subject. “I haven’t seen you in what? Eleven years?”

“Twelve. God, we’re old.”

“Happily, at that, we invited you to the wedding, you know?”

“I know, I know. And I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.”

“S’alright,” Stacie said with a beaming smile “Rose loves the panini press.”

“Listen, uh, how long are you in town? I’d love a chance to catch up in a setting with better lighting.”

“A couple of weeks, at most. We have to settle his estate.” She grimaced at the technical term. “I’ll be around.”

“We’ll catch up, promise?”

“Promise,” Beca mumbled, tipping her head back the rest of the way, finishing the glass of bourbon she hadn’t even ordered.

#Beca Mitchell #Chloe Beale #Bechloe #fanfiction #pitch perfect fanfiction #pitch perfect

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lillianfromaccounting · 5 years

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Finally getting around to this!

Was tagged by @cenobitic-anchorite (thank you!)

Putting this under a read more, because I wrote a lot.

1. What is your favorite movie? My answer to this is always Sleeping Beauty because it was the first movie that I stayed up watching with no adults. Like I must have been around 7 and my older cousin was 12 and we stayed up watching it after all the adults went to sleep. So for me, it signified some sort of independence. (On another note, that same cousin and I also stayed up to watch Pretty Woman before I realized what was going on in that movie.)

I know sometimes it’s a cop out answer, because I really can’t pick a favorite live action movie. There’s too many and I love a lot of them. Also, usually, when I say Sleeping Beauty, based on the other person’s reaction, I can tell if they’ll be compatible and/or get my vibe or not.

2. If you had to drastically change your hair, how would you cut it and what color would you dye it? I want rainbow hair, but I can’t have that where I work. I’ve been saying I’ve wanted to dye it red for several months now, but haven’t made the appointment yet (long story, but also mostly me dragging my feet). I’ve ALWAYS wanted a pixie cut, but have always been told that my face shape isn’t good for it (I did it senior year of college and there were people who flat out told me never to get that hair cut again). I’ll do it again, when I feel like I have the energy to maintain it.

3. Can you drive a manual transmission car? lol, no. I can just barely drive an automatic. (Fact: I got my license at age 23 and didn’t regularly drive until 32.)

4. What’s your favorite thing to cook or bake? Why? Is there a word limit to this? Cuz we’ll be here a few days. lol Favorite thing to bake is scones because I love scones. I also love to bake pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. And anything with a short pastry, so pies, tarts. I LOVE making sweet danishes. Oh crumb cakes. Oooh it’s season for fresh cranberries. I make a really good cranberry lime crumb cake. Cake, in just about every variation (rounds, sheet, cup, etc.) I like these because they’re delicious (and very few bakeries make them well, and I’m a dessert snob. If I’m eating it, it better be worth the calories. I’m also very particular about my cake to frosting/crumb ratio). Also, fact: I suck at baking regular cookies. I can do it, but they never look right and I’m pretty sure I’m screwing up the ratio of dry to wet ingredients or the butter’s not cold enough or something, but yeah, my cookies always look seriously deformed. (yes, I’ve seen that chart that troubleshoots cookies. No, it hasn’t helped.)

Favorite thing to cook. Hm... go to comfort stuff: penne vodka, but really, I like trying new recipes.

5. How old were you when you got your ears pierced (if your ears aren’t pierced, do you want to get them pierced? The first time I got my ears pierced, I think I was in 8th grade, so 13-ish. After the initial however long it was that you’re supposed to keep them in, I got lazy so I didn’t keep earrings in all the time (and they hurt my ears), so the holes apparently closed. I got them re-pierced in sophomore or junior year of high school and again, after a little while, they closed again. I was thinking about getting them re-pierced again.

6. Do you like Thanksgiving? Why or why not? I LOVE Thanksgiving. Yes, the historical aspect can go to hell, but personally, I love Thanksgiving. So growing up, being Chinese, we never celebrated American Thanksgiving. When I was about 13, I got a bread making book from the Scholastic book fair and discovered that we had a working oven (Chinese people don’t cook with ovens. We have a wok and a rice cooker. That’s really all you need.). Anyway, I started baking bread and it was amazing.

Also, our local supermarket would do the holiday promotion of if you spend $X, you can get a free holiday protein, and being a household of 8 (sometimes 10), we hit that spending threshold very, very quickly. So one year, I told my mom that we’re getting a turkey, instead of the ham that she likes. She was skeptical, but I was hell bent on celebrating American Thanksgiving and figuring out what this whole turkey hoopla was about.

I started cooking a Thanksgiving feast for my family (immediate and extended) from the age of 14. I did a sticky rice stuffing in the bird. Mashed sweet potatoes (no marshmallow. it’s sweet enough by itself.) I always made a lasagna (with cheese from DiPalo’s, where I would wait hours on line for our order) or another pasta dish. We did Chinese vegetables. And every year, we would pick new recipes we’d want to try. By ‘we’, I mean me. I would pick new recipes that I’d want to try and my three younger siblings would be obligatory sous chefs. And since bread baking happened in the wee early hours of the morning, we would have it for breakfast. So then I expanded the menu to include breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It became an all day thing and I was (and still am) obsessed.

Oh, it probably also helped to know that I come from a very large extended family and everyone would come through our house during holidays. Usually, it’s because my family hosted the mah jong parties, so we were kinda party central. My biggest Thanksgiving, we had about 50 people cycle through the house that day, so I had to make sure I had food enough for 50 people. Growing up, I’m pretty sure we never had less than 30. (It’s been a shock for me these past several years when we’ve hosted less than 20 people on turkey day.)

Then, my siblings would find recipes that they want to try, and Thanksgiving was this day where we would try food. Not all the recipes worked out, but no one ever got sick or food poisoning (oh man, I have stories from adjacent family members). But yeah. It’s an insane production and I love every minute of it (especially since my mom did the clean up, because bless that woman, she messed up Jiffy corn bread mix when she tried to bake, so she sticks to cleaning).

Anyway, after I got married, I demanded Thanksgiving, which my in-laws didn’t care about because they were getting it catered anyway. But I found out the hard way that they’ve sucked the soul out of my Thanksgiving festivities. One person demanded Stove Top (over fresh sausage dressing?!??!!). Fine. Another prefers roasted turkey (as opposed to smoked or fried). Year after year, they keep telling me to make less food, because they don’t enjoy watching me cook (they think I work too hard, but they also don’t understand that I’m having the time of my life).

At this point, I know that in order to get back to the Thanksgiving that I want to celebrate, it will be after that generation has passed. It’s fine.

I used to start planning my Thanksgiving menu in March, studying recipes and picking and choosing stuff up until like two weeks before hand. Ever since the kids came along, that excitement has also waned. But I’m excited for this year. There will be apple cider mimosas. And I’m roasting a savory pumpkin. And there will be artichokes. Oh and one of my good friends went to Dominique Ansel Kitchen’s pie night this year and had a poached pear chocolate pie that she said was divine. I am attempting to recreate it based on her descriptions of the textures and her pictures. This is what I live for.

(where the fuck is that barney stinson challenge accepted gif when you need it?)

and yes, this year will be my 24th year cooking Thanksgiving dinner.

7. If you could live in the world of one film, which one would you pick? Oh man. D2: The Mighty Ducks. Ok, I lied. I do have a favorite live action movie. I wish I had a more creative answer to this. Yeah, Harry Potter’s world would be cool. Yeah, I identify with hobbits. Any of the Star Treks would also be good in terms of universes. But I want Adam Banks to teach (13-14 year old) me how to ice skate.

8. What kind of pet have you never had, but have always wanted? lol one of my bffs and I always wanted a baby panda.

9. If you won the huge lottery, what would be the first 3 things you’d do?Get a good fucking lawyer, set up a shell foundation so it’s not listed in mine or my husband’s name, prepare to disappear after a couple of years of acting normal. Then, for the more fun three, pay off debt, travel, get a house somewhere the fuck else.

Ceno’s answer was too perfect, so I left it, mainly because I’d pretty much do the same. I’d buy my parents a new house and hire a chauffeur for them. Also @katiekeysburg will get a chauffeur. And I’d throw money at teleportation research. And fund a bunch of gofundmes.

10. Have you ever gotten a tattoo? What is it? If you haven’t, do you want one? I do not have any but I’ve always wanted one of my Chinese name above my ankle and I’ve always wanted the pi character somewhere (debated various locations). One day, when I get the guts to. (and when it’s seasonally appropriate to get one above my ankle, cuz omg I never knew about the various care required while it heals.)

11. What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done? hahaha um. Probably calling the cops on an online friend who I thought was going to kill himself, but he really wasn’t (but I didn’t know that). (hey kids, don’t put your addresses in your aol profiles--yes I’m ancient.) actually, I’ve done my share to stupid aol/online shit. it will probably come back to haunt me if i ever run for public office or marry a celebrity.

Ok, real stupid thing. I’m a severe klutz, and one time I walked off a raised cement slab (like the kind that statues would sit on) and sprained my ankle. It was probably 3 inches off the ground on the side that I got on it, but it was further off the ground on the other side, so when I got off the slab, I misjudged where to put my foot and I rolled my ankle. Ended up at the ER and they put me in a soft cast. I had to have crutches to get around campus and this one guy who I don’t even know his name, picked me up and carried me up the campus hill (we had a really big hill), and it was against my consent. I did NOT want him to pick me up. It was terrible. Anyway, I rolled my ankle by walking. I have tons of stupid shit. How much time you got?

I was also pretty pretentious when I was younger. (I might still be. I’m not as self aware as I wish to be.) I once asked an Italian friend to try my tomato sauce and asked him what was missing because it didn’t taste right. (I know. I was so gross. You learn from your own grossness though.)

What other stupidity? I fawned over boys. My bff gave me a copy of The Giving Tree in college (I had never read it before) as a metaphor of how much of myself I gave to this toxic dude. I sobbed reading it for the first time.

In hindsight, not getting my license at 17 was a pretty stupid move too. But that also had to do with life circumstances.

OH. Turning down an interview for an internship with my dream company at the time, because I had already accepted an internship position with another company.

Trying to explain to my MBA ethics class how my industry worked only to get it mansplained back to me (pretty stupid of me to have tried in the first place).

Going for my MBA was also a pretty stupid move in the holistic view of my life.

12. Have you accomplished your New Year’s Resolution for 2018? I honestly don’t remember if I even made resolutions, so I’m going to say hard no.

13. If you could get any degree from any school, free of charge, what would you pick? Criminal Psychology. Ceno, we can go to school together! (this reminds me I need to catch up on last week’s Criminal Minds) Another option would be anything in the forensics sciences. I would also like to learn massage therapy. And I want to take that artisan bread breaking course at the Institute of Culinary Education.

I forget how many people I’m supposed to tag. @katiekeysburg @daisyjm75 @steverogersnotebook

#personal #long post #tagged #this was fun #if only to explain my love of thanksgiving

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sp00kymulderr · 6 years

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dO THEM ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL /EVIL LAUGH (??)/ uhm from the "let's talk about" post úwù 💗 I'm sorry I'm making you write so much but i really wanna know!!! ILYSM

ANYTHING FOR YOOOU!

There is a lot here, I’m apparently feeling very chatty tonight so sorry about some of the long ramble-y answers again:

1: Talk about the first time you watched your favorite movie.

Itwas 2005, and 15 year old me had dragged my dad and brother to thecinema to see a movie that looked really interesting to me – itfeatured several badass women in the main cast at a time when Iwasn’t seeing much with actually strong, well written femalecharacters in. So I had to see this, and it was sci-fi which my wholefamily enjoys, so off we went to watch it. At the beginning, therewas a filmed intro of Joss Whedon talking about the movie and aboutthe TV series it came from, which I knew nothing about and thatworried me. But then the film started and I swear my heart stoppedfor a moment, I fell so deeply in love with the setting, thecharacters, the cast. The film was Serenity, and it started a lot forme

2: Talk about your first kiss.

Myfirst kiss wasn’t special like I wish it had been. I was about 14and it was with my best friend at the time, a guy who I had nofeelings towards whatsoever. I regret the kiss a lot, and the kissesthat followed. I wish I hadn’t felt pressured in to it the way Idid.

3: Talk about the person you’ve had the most intense romantic feelings for.

Idon’t really get intense feelings for people that often, especiallynot now I’m older. There was a guy when I was in secondary schoolthough, who I genuinely thought I loved (I didn’t). It was veryunrequited and took over my life for too long, and was a catalyst tothe depression I later suffered with.

4: Talk about the thing you regret most so far.

Partof me regrets going to uni, but then I think about all theexperiences I had at uni and I would never have had those, or madethose friends, or enjoyed myself that much anywhere else. I can’tthink of much that I really really regret, I tend to think thingsthrough a lot before I do them.

5: Talk about the best birthday you’ve had.

Iam the queen of good birthdays, istg! I ALWAYS go on holiday for mybirthday, have ever since I was young, so I have so many good ones.But I think it has to be between going to New York for my 21stor Berlin for my 23rd (my favourite place in the wholeworld), or this past birthday which I spent on my own in New Zealandand got to go to Hobbiton for the first time!

6: Talk about the worst birthday you’ve had.

Ihave genuinely not had a bad birthday yet. This year would’ve beensad if I hadn’t gone to Hobbiton, as I was completely on my own forthe first birthday ever.

7: Talk about your biggest insecurity.

I’ma total mess of insecurities tbh. I wouldn’t know where to start.

8: Talk about the thing you are most proud of.

In2012, when I left uni and moved to London on my own, I started a blogcalled The Theatre Tourist where I wrote about two of my biggestpassions; theatre and travel. A year after I started it, I got myfirst invite to review a theatre production which I accepted havingnever written a review. Once I wrote it, I knew this was what Iwanted to be doing, I fell completely in love with it. And to thisday I still run that blog, I have a fair few readers and connectionswith theatre PR’S all around the world. Currently I’m writing atleast a review a month for New Zealand theatre but when I was back inLondon I was being invited to at least 4 a week every week. I am soproud of that blog.

9: Talk about little things on your body that you like the most.

Mytattoos. They make me feel better about myself because I find thembeautiful and they mean a lot to me.

10: Talk about the biggest fight you’ve ever had.

Thatbest friend I mentioned earlier. He accused me of all sorts andcaused so much stupid drama in my life. We had a massive argument inthe hallway at school once, I ended up in tears in the bathroom andwe stopped talking to each other. He was a massive fucking jerk andI’m glad he’s not in my life any more.

11: Talk about the best dream you’ve ever had.

Ihad a lot of great dreams just before I moved to New Zealand, aboutwhat a great time I was going to have out here, and they havedefinitely come true

12: Talk about the worst dream you’ve ever had.

Istress dream quite a lot, the most recent one was losing my family ina natural disaster and it was awful.

13: Talk about the first time you had sex/how you imagine your first time.

Iwaited quite a while, so I was 18 when I lost it. It wasn’t perfectbut it was nice and with someone I liked at the time. It was, however, in a single bed which was AWFUL god. But other than that, there’s not much to talk about.

14: Talk about a vacation.

Whichone to choose though??? I love travelling and have been so lucky totravel a lot, I studied tourism and it’s always been a huge part ofmy life. That’s why I’m out here on this beautiful island in themiddle of nowhere right now.

15: Talk about the time you were most content in life.

Idon’t feel content a lot, but my first and subsequent 6 visits toBerlin have been the best I’ve ever felt in my whole life. Berlinis the one place I feel completely at home and know I belong.

16: Talk about the best party you’ve ever been to.

Idon’t go to a lot of parties! And the ones I went to when I wasyounger, I don’t remember a lot of them… I went to a really funfoam party in my first year of uni that I always remember fondly iffuzzily.

18: Talk about something that happened in elementary school.

Whichone is elementary? Primary I think? Jesus, who remembers primaryschool? I don’t think much exciting happened when I was that young!

19: Talk about something that happened in middle school.

Waitwhat’s middle school if the next question is high school? Do theyhave a school between primary and secondary in America? I’mCONFUSED

20: Talk about something that happened in high school.

Ohall sorts of shit.

21: Talk about a time you had to turn someone down.

Therewas this guy in college who I became pretty close friends with thenlater told me he really liked me. He was sweet but so not my type soI just said no and then he never spoke to me again lol

22: Talk about your worst fear.

Interms of an actual phobia, I’m really afraid of dogs. Which ispretty inconvenient, they make me panic.

23: Talk about a time someone turned you down.

Ugh,I got drunk at a work party and asked out a guy from IT I had beeneyeing up and he turned me down which is fair enough I was a messback then. But then I had to see him at work all the time and it wasso embarrassing for me.

24: Talk about something someone told you that meant a lot.

Justrecently I’ve been having a crisis about what I’m going to dowith my life once I get back to the UK next year, I want to get a jobI actually love as opposed to ending up in a shitty call centre jobhating my life again. But the other day my manager told me that shegenuinely believes I can do absolutely anything and be brilliant atit, and that just boosted my confidence so much.

26: Talk about things you do when you’re sick.

Iusually try and just get on with things and don’t admit I’m sickunless it’s really bad. I hate sitting still, I need to be doingsomething all the time even when ill.

31: Talk about what you think death is like.

Scary?Death scares me, I can’t lie. I try not to think about it.

32: Talk about a place you remember from your childhood.

TheatreRoyal Bath, I associate so many good memories with this building.When I was a kid and first expressed an interest in Shakespeare mymum used to sometimes take me to see plays there. I started a massivething in me and it’s always a place that makes me feel happy.

33: Talk about what you do when you are sad.

Iput on music. Loud. Usually Bowie, because I know he will make mefeel better, he always does.

34: Talk about the worst physical pain you’ve endured.

Ireally hope this doesn’t tempt fate, but as of yet I’ve onlyexperienced self inflicted pain. Never broken a bone or sprainedanything. Uhm so probably my first tattoo but even then that was a good pain for the most part.

35: Talk about things you wish you could stop doing.

Beinganxious. Seriously, if I could control my anxiety or make itdissapear things would be so different.

38: Talk about songs that remind you of certain people.

Meand my dad share a fairly similar musical taste, and he was the onewho introduced me to all the musicians I love so deeply now.Specifically listening to Delilah by The Sensational Alex Harvey Bandmakes me think of him. With my mum, we both love Alice Cooper so anytime I hear him I think of her.

39: Talk about things you wish you’d known earlier.

Iwish I’d known earlier that there’s no shame in ‘sleeping around’.I felt ashamed for a long time about my sexual habits, and got shamedfor them. I know now that it’s all bullshit and me being in controlof my sexuality is a good thing.

Ialso wish someone had told me that you’re allowed to have stops andstarts in your career, for years after uni I tried so hard to followa career path that wasn’t working for me but I thought I would be afailure if I gave up, or if I ended up doing something that didn’trelate to my degree. Even though I still struggle with the idea of acareer, I at least do know now that I am allowed to do whatever thehell I want whether I studied for it or not.

40: Talk about the end of something in your life.

In 2016 the West Endmusical Sunny Afternoon closed. By the time it closed I had seen it150 times, literally seeing it at the very least once a week for twowhole years. It changed me a lot – I became more confident, I madea group of the best friends I’ve ever had, I started a fan groupfor it and worked with the marketing team for the show on a socialmedia campaign. It was a HUGE part of my life. When the show closedit felt like the end of an era, I really didn’t know what I wasgoing to do without it. It meant so much to me. But now I have allthese great friends who still talk and hang out and I have two castsof actors whose careers I’ll be following for the rest of my life.

#personal #get to know me #weird because I dont like talking about myself IRL but on the internet SURE heres my whole life story #Sorry a lot of these are angsty I'm in a weird headspace

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