#Tawnie Baker

[queersrus]

request for cottagecore + sad-ish? id pack? please + thanks!

here's my attempt!

assuming id pack includes more than just the usual npts i'll throw in a few cottagecore and sad related labels i found

(nick)names:

ambrose, amos, ansel, acacia, ada, adelaide, arwin/arwen, ava, avery/averie, aviva, amaranth, able, arbor, art, arty/artie, asher, ainsley, acheron, adalia brandy/brandi, branwen, billie/billy, bryony, bill, banner, booker, bram

barley, brion, brian, bryce chloris, chandra, cyrene, cayenne, cade, clyde, chester, cliff denna, diana/dianna, diona, donna/dona, derby, dallas, danica, daphne, dixie, dawn, dylan

edmund, elenore, elodie, eudora, elenore/eleanor, ebony, erica, eila, eira, eve, eithne, everlee, elize, eliza, elizabeth, everlyn, elwood, emerson, elowen finnegan, freddy/freddie, frederick, fallin/fallon, florance/florence

fable, frank, frankie/franky, franklin/franklyn, faine, filbert, finneas ginny/ginnie, gale, georgia, george, georgina, granger halcyone, hana/hanna/hannah, harriet, harry, hayley/hailie/hailey, halie/hallie, heather, harlowe/harlow, harrow, hadar, hawl, hayes,

huck, holden, huso ilana, illiana/iliana, ingrid, ivory jane, janet/janette, jesse/jessie, josie, jose, jack, jackie, jackson kingston, kodi/kodie, kodiak, kylan

lupin, lian, liana/lianna, liane/lianne, linc, linden, lyle, lucius maisie, matilda, maude, mabel, merle, marin, mica/mika, mason/macon, martin, miller, miles nellie, nyssa, ned, nick, ness

opholia, oliver, olive, olivia, oleander, odell, oriel, oscar paisley, poppy, posie, phineas, parker rose, rosemary/rosemarie, rosy/rosie, rory, rosette, rosetta, rue, rosabel/rosabell/rosabelle, rosa, rosabela/rosabella, rosella, rosaria,

rosario, rob, robert, ray, reed, ridge, ryland, rowan, roan shiloh, sharon, scarlet/scarlett/skarlett, sam, samantha, samuel, sunny/sunnie, sawyer, shaw, shay, steve, stevie, stevia, sorell/sorrell, seb, sebby/sebbie, sebastian, saddie/sadie, sade

theodore, theo, tori, toria, tamie/tammie, tawny, terra, timber, tim, timothy, tanner, teddy/teddie, trevis/travis, trevor, tyler, tristan/tristin, tristah/trista, trystia verginia, vicky/vickie, victor, victoria, viola, violet/violette,

violeta/violetta, valerian, vernon winnie, willa, winston, winifred, winslow, will, william, willow, wade, wagner, warren, watts, watson, wilhelmina yvonne, yves zephyr/zephyre, zara, zinnia, zion

surnames:

appleyard, ashton, ashwood baker, brookstone, butterfield catkin, cobbler, cooper, copper, copperwood, copperfield, crestfallen dogwood, direwood, direbrook, direfield, desperfield, downyard

doleman fenlon, falkner, forlorn greenwood, greenfield, golding, goldwood, goldfield, griefman, griefwood, gardner

hilbrook, holbrook, heath, horsewood, horsefield, hawksley, harrowing, hawkswood, hawthorne, hawkner, hawkfield, holloway, hallowood

larken, limewood, lockhart, lovejoy mourner, mournwright, mournman nettleship

plowman, penrose, penwright redbrook, rosedale, redwood, rosewood, redfield summerfield, sweetnam, seawright, sorrowfield, sorrowbrook, shamewood, shamewright

thacker, thatcher westfield, wainwright, write/wright, wagonwright, woodsman, wyrmwood/wormwood, winterwood, winterrose, wretchwood, wretchman

system names:

the cottagecore *system, the sorrowful system, the melancholic cottage system, the mourning flowerbed system, the gloomy garden system, the tearful system, the harvest system

1st p prns: i/me/my/mine/myself

ci/cotte/cottagy/cottagine/cottageself hi/he/hy/harvestine/harvestself gi/garde/gardy/gardine/gardenself si/sade/sady/sadine/sadself si/sorre/sorry/sorrowine/sorrowself mi/me/mely/melancholine/melancholyself

2nd p prns: you/your/yours/yourself

co/cottager/cottagers/cottagerself ho/harvester/harvesters/harvesterself go/gardener/gardeners/gardenerself so/sader/sadders/sadderself so/sorrower/sorrowers/sorrowerself mo/melancholer/melancholers/melancholerself

3rd p prns: they/them/theirs/themself

co/cottage, cott/age, cot/cottage, cot/tage, cottage/cottages, cottage/core har/vest, ha/harvest, harv/est, harvest/harvests gar/den, gar/garden, garden/gardens, garden/core farm/core sa/sad, sad/sads, sa/ad, sad/sadden, so/sorrow, sor/row, sorr/ow, sorrow/sorrows, sorrow/sorrowful mel/melancholy, mel/ancholy, melan/choly, melancholy/melancholies, melancholy/melchancholic

titles:

the weeping gardener, the mourning farmer, the sad cottage dweller, the melancholic planter, the sorrowful woodsman

**one who lives a sad cottage life, one who mourns within ones cottage, one who weeps amongst ones gardens, one who copes with sadness through cottage life

book titles:

the sad little cottage, a melancholic villager, the weeping willows, the mourning garden, the sorrows of an old cottage, a pitiful harvest

genders:

buncottagecoric(link),

cottagegoric(link), cafdreamian(link), cottagecrittean(link), cottagecoric(link), Cálidatierramielgender(link)

epuisetristic(link)

gendersob(link)

Sadnostacatgender(link)

orientations: (n/a)

other:

cottagecore bpd(link)

many can be found by searching cottagecore genders/mogai/liom as well, there are many versions of cottagecore flags especially for lgbt related labels so they should not be hard to find if you feel like looking!

*system can be replaced with any alternative (ex. cluster, collective, hoard/horde, etc)

**one can be replaced with any prn

[athenas-weirdo-daughter]

ooc: THIS IS A RP ACCOUNT! My main is @book-girl4eva :)))

Name: Clara :D

Nicknames: Cee-Cee, but that's family-only

Age: 15 years

Ethnicity: mixed race (Black African and Greek)

Physical description: Tall, with tawny skin, almond shaped black-brown eyes and wild curly hair (naturally streaked with red)

Sexuality: bisexual

Cabin: 6, in case you hadn't guessed

Powers: very good at memorising useless shit (photographic memory), I can hit any target with deadly procession and owls love me!

Skills: archery, spear throwing, map reading, ice skating, acting, reading if that's a skill, being melo-dramatic

Flaws: need for reassurance from others or I'll hate myself 😍

Years at camp: Go here, like, 4 months ago

Year rounder? Probably will be for safety reasons

Dyslexia and adhd: no dyslexia, but yes adhd

Likes: sunsets, facts, training, jewelry, books, ice-cream, ect

Dislikes: monsters, cabbage soup, lakes (they scare me), camp bathrooms, ect

Mortal parent: lol as if I knew

Backstory: I've been fostered. A lot. And tbh I prefer some of the monsters to the families I've stayed with. I don't like to talk about it.

anyways that's it from me! Byeee!

Face claim: Malia Baker :]

[ashen-crest]

[ID: a digital drawing of a half-woman with tawny brown skin leaning against a wall. She has purple wavy hair on one side and an undercut with buzzed wave lines on the other. She's wearing a dark purple jacket with black trim and silver buttons, and has a bag stragged to her thigh. The text to her left reads: "Rory Basha: investigative journalist for the Dragon Post." then, in bullet points: "writing the story on Ambrose's kidnapping. hails from Deepriver. excels at dancing badly. has magical moving tattoos. Dawn's love interest." with purple hearts below the last bullet point. end ID]

Rosemond Street's Expansion: Rory Basha!

I have art for you!!! It's been so long!!

A Captured Cauldron, the sequel to A Rival Most Vial, is coming out this fall, and Rosemond Street's gotta make room for some new friends (and lovers, and enemies...)

We'll be in Ambrose, Eli, and Dawn's POV this go-round, which means we get to meet love interest Rory Basha through Dawn's (very infatuated) eyes.

“Sorry about that.” [Rory] staggered to her feet and dusted herself off. “Let me just clear this guy out real quick.” “What?” Dawn stood on tiptoe to look over her shoulder. The convention bar was a shambles. Chairs and barstools lay scattered while peaceful patrons crowded into the side booths, giving the woman and the aforementioned guy—a beefy human with a terrible sneer—space to brawl. “Come on, Franz,” the woman stalked back in, fists raised, grin wide. “If you really call that a punch, I’m gonna tell your editor about it and get you kicked off the adventuring beat.” The man lunged; she ducked, fluid as water. 

Next up: Viola, the new baker on Rosemond Street, and Nat, Ambrose's unlikely ally during his adventure below the city!

[megafaunatic]

Half an hour before sunset I came to a pine wood. It was already dark under the trees, but there was light in the ride as I walked along it from the west. Outside it was cold, but the wood was still warm. The boles of the pines glowed redly under the blue-black gloom of their branches. The wood had kept its dusk all day, and seemed now to be breathing it out again. I went quietly down the ride, listening to the last rich dungeon notes of a crow. In the middle of the wood, I stopped. A chill spread over my face and neck. Three yards away, on a pine branch close to the ride, there was a tawny owl. I held my breath. The owl did not move. I heard every small sound of the wood as loudly as though I too were an owl. It looked at the light reflected in my eyes. It waited. Its breast was white, thickly arrowed and speckled with tawny red. The redness passed over the sides of its face and head to form a rufous crown. The helmeted face was pale white, ascetic, half-human, bitter and withdrawn. The eyes were dark, intense, baleful. This helmet effect was grotesque, as though some lost and shrunken knight had withered to an owl. As I looked at those grape-blue eyes, fringed with their fiery gold, the bleak face seemed to crumple back into the dusk; only the eyes lived on. The slow recognition of an enemy came visibly to the owl, passing from the eyes, and spreading over the stony face like a shadow. But it had been startled out of its fear, and even now it did not fly at once. Neither of us could bear to look away. Its face was like a mask; macabre, ravaged, sorrowing, like the face of a drowned man. I moved. I could not help it. And the owl suddenly turned its head, shuffled along the branch as though cringing, and flew softly away into the wood.

— The Peregrine, J.A. Baker (pp. 78-79, 2005 NYRB edition)

[garnetblackwater]

The Rustle of Leaves

Human female x forest guardian

Chapter 4-What Is There To Say

The drive was quiet, Vanessa lost in her thoughts. No music playing, not even the radio buzzing away. She could only push herself to get home. Simple questions mumbled to herself. 

But why?

What does he want?

What even is he?

What did he mean by it is up to me?

Have I made a drastic mistake?

Why me?

What have I done? 

Just circular thoughts. Before she realized it, her keys were in hand standing before her door. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. The moment she reached for the door it swung open. Sandra Baker stood at 5 foot 6 inches,  her skin a warm tawny brown, a dark violet bob with a side part, several piercings on her ears and tattoo on the forearm holding the door, matching the one on Vanessa.

Sandy goes to yell, but once she sees the state of Vanessa she can only cry again. “Come on Cheeks, please don’t say I look that bad?” Vanessa walks into her apartment, moving Sandy out the way to look in the mirror. Blood had dried across her forehead and eyebrow, with small trails down her chin and neck. “Oh fuck me that looks bad,” vanessa turned back to sandy, the girls desperately trying to wipe tears away. “I am sorry, Sandy,” Vanessa swept the girl into a hug, “I promise to be more careful. I never meant to worry you.” Vanessa also began to cry, the stress of her encounter, the unknown consequences, and seeing her best friend worried to tears. It was all too much to hold in. 

“What happened Van? Do we need to take you to the hospital?”

“No, apparently I’m fine. I slipped and fell but it's mostly scrapes, and everything looks worse than it actually is.” Vanessa sighed, “At least that's what the rangers said.” 

The rangers being Ten. Fuck what can I even tell her? Can I tell her anything at all?

Sandy could see the cogs spinning away in Vanessa’s head, a deep sense of worry filling her chest. “Vanessa what happened?” Sandy asked sternly, her hand reaching out to touch the other woman.

The hair on the back of Vanessa’s neck stood on end. “How dare you use my government name? Who am I to you?” Sandy crossed her arms, Vanessa’s jest utterly disregarded.

”Ugh I don’t know what to say.”

“Say anything at this point, Vanessa?”

“Stop saying my name like that! Gosh its just,” Vanessa looked for any excuse she could use. She wasn’t sure she could say anything, let alone if she should. She doubted Sandy would believe her. Probably think she definitely had a concussion and rush her to the hospital. “It's just that I feel bad for everything. For worrying you so much. Also for rushing out of there so soon. I didn't properly thank them for saving my life. I feel like I should go back.” Not a lie exactly, Vanessa did feel bad for rushing away, but also she needed to go back. She had so many questions to ask, particularly in relation to this stupid deal she made.

“Well you are not going back alone.”

“Sandy, it's fine.”

“Nope. Not a negotiation. I will go with you. I’m not working next weekend, we can go together. We can even bring a thank you gift. Baked goods or some shit.” Sandy pushed behind her, “No go get cleaned up while I order food. You look like shit and I’m hungry.” Vanessa hugged Sandy and gave her a peck on the cheek before heading to the bathroom. Now that she could finally see herself in full, she really did look awful. Covered in muck and mud, scratched all over her legs, face and arms.The wound on her head had soaked her jacket,and blood had also dripped down the arm of her jacket, a bit splashed on her shorts. Well the magic tree man said I should be fine, if that fucking mens anything. 

Vanessa picked up her phone and snapped a picture. A day to remember I guess. Oh I should warn the others. Showing up to school tomorrow will be easier if some people know. 

She went to the “x-men” group chat skimming past all the new messages. Storm- Just a warning for tomorrow, I look like hell. I’ve been through hell. So don't freak out tomorrow.

Cyclops- Yeah yeah. Dramatic as always. Your bad day is still a good day compared to others.

Wolverine- Drink more water. Your hangover shouldn't be that bad.

Permafrost- I hate to agree but they are right.

More messages came through giving the same sentiment. Levels of disbelief and down play. “Well if they don't want to believe me.”

Storm- picture sent

Vanessa set her phone down as her notifications went wild. “Time for a shower.” She was indeed dramatic. Her body stung and ached all over. The heat of the shower acting as both a blessing and a curse. She hoped that she could wash away the grime on her body and the memories from her mind, even if just for a moment.

Ten left the rangers office and went back into the forest, his mind abuzz as he traversed the boughs. The day had been significant for him. He hadn’t planned for that deal to be made, truly. He really only intended to lead her to safety. But he couldn’t help but applaud her bravery, not just another lamb led by fear. She was definitely afraid he could smell it on her at the time, but she used her head. He enjoyed the look on her face in those moments. The defiance in her stance, the anger on her face, she was ready to fight for her life. Ten admired her in that moment, he couldn’t help but talk to her and see how far it would go.

It was worth it in the end. 

Ten angled himself in the branches and looked to the stars before he closed his eyes. “Vanessa Mae Carthwright,” her name like a prayer on his lips. He imagined her face again. Back to the moment she was in his arms, the softness of it when she finally let her guard down, brow no longer furrowed. Even as she wagged her feet to be set free, it brought a smile to his face. His heart raced as he remembered the feel of her skin, her hands gripping his arms, the closeness of her. She was so soft and plush against him, but she was also warm. Warmth was not something he often got out in the forest. Sure there were animals, bears that roamed, packs of wolves, but it wasn't the same. With Vanessa it didn't feel like a necessity. He would see her again, whether she came back to him or he had to hunt her down, he would see her again. He would experience the magic that was her again.

[nomorelikethat]

short story im working on Hi

While the sedan strikes the deer, dawn rips through the night.

In the driver seat is Mr. Baker, with one hand on the wheel. In the back, her green eyes zeroed into long swaths of darkness, is Camila Baker: his only daughter and, to his chagrin, his only child. The passenger seat is empty. Camila likes it better that way; the space between her father and herself allowing her to breathe. She used to feel ashamed of sitting in the back. It made her feel childish, and she fought to be allowed in the front seat. When she got there, Mr. Baker’s puny eyes zeroed in on her every action. Camila, don’t recline so far back; Camila, don’t chew gum so loudly; Don’t change the radio you know I love that song; Camila, do you ever shut up? And so, she returned to the backseat. It’s where he wants her. It’s where she’s safe.

In the moments before the accident (though knowing her father, Camila isn’t sure if that’s the right word, isn’t sure if he maybe saw the deer in his periphery and kept driving), Mr. Baker is talking to himself. He’s ranting about something, but Camila isn’t sure what exactly something is. Mr. Baker starts off by talking about the grades he got when he was in high school and God, Camila, really? Two B minuses? Do you even try?, but then at one point switches to how all the students at Ivies are far too radical, so maybe it’s a blessing that you’re so… Mr. Baker trails off, but Camila is sure that the next thing he’d say is either stupid, dumb, or useless. 

As Mr. Baker goes silent, he turns around to stare at Camila. He expects to see her eyes filled with tears, maybe her lips moving in the shape of the words, why are you so cruel— but Camila has not cried over her father in years, hasn’t cried in front of him in years, either. All he sees is the back of her head. 

It is then that the bumper makes contact with the hump between the deer’s torso and legs, the tawny color of the creature unchanged for a few seconds before its coat is drenched in crimson.

They can hear the accident before they see it; maybe even before they feel the front of the car crumple like an empty beer can littered onto grass, the remnants of some beautiful, nearly mythical high school party; the kind Camila has never gone to. The deer screeches, high pitched and urgent, almost sounding like the bleat of an ewe whose lambs wandered too far, or the wail of a spoiled newborn begging for something more than milk: something that its parents cannot give it or put words to. It’s the sound of something ending.

Camila’s airbag doesn’t go off. She jerks forward into the window and can almost smell the capillaries beneath her pimply forehead breaking, leaking. Mr. Baker’s, however, does; which might unleash some jealous animal from Camila’s core, some concern over what is fair and what is not, but only if she could focus on something besides the pounding noise of blood sloshing around her skull. Mr. Baker starts to hack, the cushion hitting him in the sternum. Maybe if the deer isn’t shrieking, the two could hear the crack of his breastbone splintering.

Camila and her father are silent, save for the wheezing from Mr. Bakers throat. He bats away the airbag, watching it slowly deflate. His lungs are still reeling. Camila pulls herself away from the window and her forehead sticks to the glass like thighs on sweltering afternoons, making a small suctioning noise as they part. She fumbles with the door handle for a moment, but it swings open. She stumbles out, not bothering to shut the door behind her.

The car’s headlights are the only thing illuminating the gravelly path stretching out before them. Mr. Baker always insists on driving through backroads. Traffic brings out the worst in me, he says, but he still simmers in anger on empty roads. Camila doesn’t mind; while highways make her father furious, they make her despondent. Wide, never-ending roads filled with beaming headlights leave her yearning for a clear view of the stars.

Camila keeps her distance from the deer. Sometime between when they struck the creature and when she exited the car, it toppled over, causing even more damage for the hood. Luckily for Mr. Baker, the brunt of its weight mostly fell on the passenger’s side. For a second, Camila is grateful for her father’s nitpicking: it saved her life. 

When Mr. Baker exits the car, he staggers towards the creature, his left leg heavy. 

[alittlebrownbat]

A snippet I'm working on

A tapping sound was coming from the window. 

Remus opened his eyes to the graying plaster above him. A watermark that spread from the corner strangely resembled a rabbit. Dust motes danced in the light beams that streamed in through the slats in the window shutters. He breathed in the new day and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He allowed himself a lie in, having arrived in the quiet stillness between night and morning, long after the drunks had stumbled off to bed, still before the bakers rose to prepare their dough. It must be at least 10 AM by now as the room was fully illuminated.

Remus pushed himself up onto his forearms to unlatch the shutters and allow entry to the tawny owl waiting outside. He unfurled the bit of parchment untied took from her leg. 

This evening, 6PM. Welcome back. - APWBD

He crumpled the note in his fist. The owl stares at him unblinking, expectant. 

“I’ve got nothing for you, I’m sorry,” he confessed. She nipped at his fingers and gave him an irritated hoot. 

“I said I was sorry! I’m hungry too.” 

She ruffled her feathers in a noticeably irritated manner and took flight from the window sill.

Remus took in the room around him for the first time, having slipped into sleep like a stone through water the night prior. It was cozy, an oil painting of a stone castle hung above the fireplace and a claret-colored armchair rested in the corner. He could hear muted conversations and the din of the dining area coming from the floor below. The smell of bacon permeated the air and his stomach audibly grumbled. Breakfast is still on then, thank god. 

Remus got out of bed and padded over to the bathroom. He almost regretted leaving the warmth of his cocoon of quilts, the creep of autumn felt in the floorboards and the porcelain of the sink. He splashed water on his face, running damp fingers through loose curls, and looked at himself in the mirror. Living as a vagabond had not been without cost, and it was apparent he had paid the price with his body. He hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks, or what felt closer to an eternity. It was evident in the hollows of his cheeks and the way his clothes hung loose on his already spindly frame. His hair badly needed a cut, but he took the time to quickly run a razor over the stubble on his face. It’ll have to do for now.

He’d spent the last 8 weeks with a werewolf pack in the wilderness of Glen Affric. Some packs were aligned with Voldemort but most were unaffiliated. Many were living as nomads, rotating forests for full moons to avoid both preying on wizards and falling prey themselves.

Remus’s mission had been as successful as any of the others. And after two years, he was unable to provide the packs with a good faith argument as to why fighting with the Order would benefit them. Voldemort was offering werewolves power, protection, a seat at the table, none of which had come to fruition. Remus’s assurances, and truthfully what they really needed – the chance at a magical education, employment, housing – were just as hollow. And so he spent weeks getting to know them, transforming with them, living by their side at Dumbledore’s order, a mission Remus realized he’d been marked for the day he got his Hogwarts letter. And his progress had been near minimal. 

Not that the rest of the Order was making much more progress than he, quite the opposite. They were being picked off in quick succession. Caradoc Dearborn went missing without a trace a few weeks previous. Without any attempts from him to make contact or leads for the Order to follow, they had all assumed the worst. Death Eaters had made Edgar Bones and his wife watch as they tortured and murdered their children before finally killing them as well. And Marlene and her family, well. Remus had locked himself in his room for days after the news of the McKinnons. He treated run-ins he had with other Order members as if they may be their last, because on many occasions, especially recently, they had been.

Remus pulled a wool jumper over his t-shirt and laced up his boots. After closing the door to his room and locking it behind him, he glanced in either direction, ensuring he was alone. 

Locus clausum. Protego totalum. Intrusor certiorem. He shuddered to think of returning to the room in any way but the way he was leaving it, unoccupied. Remus walked down the creaking wooden steps to the first floor where breakfast was being served. The radio voice of Freddie Mercury echoed from a room down the hall, bellowing why can’t we give ourselves one more chance?

[illarian-rambling]

Does your character believe in myths and fairy tales?

What is your character's favorite physical trait they possess?

Is there food that has made your character sick?

Has your character had a meaningful encounter with an animal?

What gift would your character give to someone they didn't like but felt obligated to?

For the ask game :)

Hm, I feel like taking about Twenari (for this ask game)

1. She lives in a mythical world, so while she does believe in ghosts and mermaids and faeries and such, that's because they're real. Hell, she was practically raised by a siren and a selkie. There are some fictional myths on Illaros, however, Twenari thinks of these more as insight into strange things people might’ve seen and been confused by. For example, dragons aren't real on Illaros and Twenari is aware of this, but she also knows that these myths probably grew out of encounters with drakelings.

2. Her favorite physical trait is probably her height. Twenari is a teenager full of teenaged angst, so she doesn't always feel the best about her body with all its acne and stretch marks, but she does like being the second tallest among her friends. She's also quite fond of her eye color, which is a pale tawny brown.

3. Any time she eats Izjik’s cooking, Twenari gets a stomachache, which is why Izjik is banned from the kitchen.

4. Nothing so far as animal encounters jumps out at me. She did get chased by a back of wolf-like creatures once - the products of a decaying demiplane - and has harbored a slight fear of dogs ever since.

5. Twenari’s a bit of a stickler for rules of propriety, so she would definitely get someone a gift if she thought she had to, despite not particularly liking them. She'd probably go with a plate of baked goods. She's a stellar baker, enjoys the process, and would be able to save some for herself.

Thanks for the asks!

[whenredheadsfly-blog]

The Blanched Isle <<Original Short Story>>

Trigger warning:

Blood

Violence

Religious Abuse of Power

The church on the sunny isle teemed with jovial work. On top of a rolling green hill, it sat content to take in the azure ocean and sunny skies while overlooking the center of its bustling town. All around its clay walls was paradise. Waves lapped over coastlines made of sugar, which transitioned from fine beaches to tall, soft grass. Further up the path laid white stone roads. Tall palms swayed in the breeze lazily and upon them settled exotic birds of various colors who sang even lazier songs. Occasionally a few would flutter from their perch, soaring over the residents to land upon blanch buildings, and watched with interest as people scurried to and fro. There was a buzz of excitement in the air. Today was a very important day after all. Fine clothes, wine, valuables and heirlooms were collected by the mothers to be brought. Fathers worked tirelessly in the lush forests or against the gleaming sea to find food for the event, and daughters picked flowers jealously to line the tables. They had not been selected to be the maiden of honor for the evening, but there was a responsibility still to be had that was sweetened with the thought of conversing with one of the especially handsome church boys. The community came together to prepare with fondness and a sense of family. Only for one did the streets part. 

She had not been a particularly intimidating girl, only 11 years of age. There was no reason for the women to give a disapproving eye. Certainly, no sense at all for some of the more superstitious men in the village to sidestep her entirely. Maybe the local's deeply tanned skin did not quite match the warm tawny of her own, but she thought it was close enough. They were tall where she was short. Lithe where she was stocky. Nothing damning in her differences. However, it was said her mother came from the desert, far from the crashing waves and salt kissed breeze. An outsider who had escaped the honor of her duty, and fled from responsibility in some far off land. The only memory of her were her two children, which stayed under the care of the church. Those inside the church suggested it was the other half of her lineage that caused room for concern. Where most residents on the island boasted inky black hair and blue eyes, hers were both the color of liquid mercury. Liquid moon that curled down her spine in a place that was ordained by the sun, with lunar eyes to match. She and her brother were simply not normal.

It had been her place as an outsider in the village that led to Maria's diligence and quiet nature. It was easy to speak with a soft voice when one had so much practice not speaking at all. As long as she and her brother had always been a part of the church, she had been in service to it, and she was thankful for the opportunity to do so. They had been gracious enough to not cast her to the street, considering the scandal and disgrace of her mother fleeing the island. Even in paradise, life could be harsh if there was no roof to grace the top of one's head.  Slipping through the crowd silently, she provided a colorless contrast to the variety of silks that matched the hues of the exotic birds, flowers, and sweet smelling kegs that carried hints of the rum the island took particular pride in. Despite the celebration, this was simply her day to run errands. The quicker she managed them, the faster she could sneak away to the beach for a peaceful hour or two during all the excitement.

Two men leaned idly over the market stand, holding each other's boredom at bay with chit-chat and rumors. " You heard that the Baker's girl was chosen? I could have told you that. She's a real pretty one. It's a shame to see her go, but I bet the fishing this year is incredible" 

The other laughed and slapped his stomach jovially. " Ah, don' go actin’ as if you had any chance? A shame a lout like you'se got his head in the sand! Get real!”

“ Talin had eyes for me and you knew it. I just don’t see the point of picking someone like her to go marry a man down there. There are plenty of pretty little things on the island, but she’s as sweet as the cake her ma makes. Who knows-- maybe I’ll steal a final kiss, so she can think of me when she’s down there?”

“ Nothin’ like romancin a girl with fish, I hear. Bold young boy, ya ar’,Ahaha!”

Red colored the young man's cheeks, causing him to glance away from his associate in a soft grumble. He was met with a bright, cold gaze, causing him to jump behind the market stall. " Pit's teeth! What do you want? You can't go sneaking up on people like that!" Maria ducked expertly out of the way of a widely gesturing arm, well practiced from years of hard lessons. Most of the time it didn't hurt, but she hadn't been tempted to test every man's good will.

" I need two bags of the dried flowers please, and some pearls from the week before. Both crushed and whole. It's for Talin tonight. The father asked me to see if you would be willing to let someone come around and pay for it tomorrow morning." The smell of rum and fish wafted in her face as the merchant leaned down and narrowed his eyes at her warily. “ They are for her makeup, to enhance her natural beauty” she added innocently, hoping to win the man over with the third party.

 " How do I know you're not just trying to run off with this for yourself?" He stared her down sternly, but her impassive face and deafening silence won out. " Fine, but run straight back. I will be mentioning this tonight during the meal. You hear?" Proud of getting the last word, he turned to collect her goods before shoving them unceremoniously into her chest. " Now run off. "

While she scurried away, they watched her go. " I'm telling you something is wrong with her" The younger said to his friend in a huff. " Did you see the way she just stared at me? Creepy. Like she's got no soul in her eyes." 

The elder man shrugged, chuckling in turn. " Ah, she's just a weird little girl. Keeps up in that church and the father makes sure she don't bother no one. Certainly gave you a fright, though, my brave boyo. Haha, haha!"

Throughout the day, errands blurred by. A fine set of cloth that had been dyed a dark, rich red for the girl to be swathed in; a fine perfume that had been distilled with some sweet fruit, flowers, and rum as binding; and hair pins were purchased for styling during the final descent. After all, one had to look their best when they were marrying a god. 

It was early afternoon when she reached her final destination on the docks. Maria hesitated at the wooden edge and stared at a large, foreign ship that sat at the very end. Merchants had been hired to bring particularly valuable items from the mainland. One set of which was to be the crowning piece of the ensemble for Talin. A fine set of ruby earrings, placed in gold that draped just to the top of the throat by dainty chains. Maria had heard the father speak of them, and it was difficult even for her, who hoped for nothing fine in her life, not to feel a little envious of the shine they must have given in the candlelight. 

Even the ship was a sense of wonder and mystery. It was proof that there was actually a world behind the distant horizon. These men traveled far away from jovial work and odd stares. Where did they go? What was the strangest thing they had ever seen? Was it this island? Reality, however, always had a tendency to get the better of her when she fantasized. Dreaming had always been Adrian’s talent. Earrings were just earrings, and they would never be hers. A ship was a ship, and the man who appeared to command it was suspicious at best. His shifting eyes matched his nimble finger, idling twisting some kind of glimmering piece of coin. His matted brown hair rested over his face and reminded her of one of the goats that grazed in the back of the rolling hills. 

 With a sharp breath, she straightened her spine, moving both arms back to re-arrange her silver locks of hair like a mane over one shoulder.  Her purposeful steps clunked on the docks and shot small ripples of water from the soggy baseboards into the ocean. Maria's focus may have been palpable in the way it gathered his attention. She stifled the air in her lungs for a moment more of bravery, and opened her mouth to speak. He beat her to it. 

" Did the father send you to me? No surprise. A pretty thing for a pretty thing." He teased cheekily through yellowed teeth. His content nature and unique, free spirit caught her off guard. Even through his appearance was dirty, there was something good intentioned in his grin. It caused a rare smile from her. She scrunched her nose to stifle the small giggle that erupted from her.

" But sir, if that was the case, would you not be wearing them?"  Raucous laughter startled two sleeping seabirds into taking flight, and the slap he put on her back knocked her very nearly off of her feet. The man caught her balance and placed a small pouch in Maria's bag, shaking his head in amusement with the way she clutched it.

" Now be off with you. This ain't no place for some small thing like you." After a moment of collecting herself, her small feet slapped against the dock back to the sands with a new sense of happiness. 

By the time Maria traveled up the docks, taking a small pause for a moment or two for herself at the bleached shores, the sun had started to beat down furiously. Dutifully, she trudged up the green grass through white streets. Her arms stung with the effort of carrying the increasingly heavy bags up what she had sworn was a small hill back home.The church itself was always pristine, but today the mothers had seen to it that every corner had been polished. The main hall was set with new tables that had candles lit at sunset, a hallway of light to signify the sacrifice their gods made below. A calling to one of them that Talin was ready to be received by a husband. To the right, double doors were open wide to expel the heat of the kitchen. From inside, all sorts of spices mingled together to create wonderful smells. A promise that the feast tonight would be one to remember.

The main hall was simple but elegant. The floor was made of a smooth, red clay that baked the heat from the sunlight and kept warm during the evening hours. On either side were beautifully carved benches made from the light wood of the island, leading up to a magnificent altar. Three steps up was the father’s podium, of the same material. Behind him rested a table that had been built into the floor. Normally it would carry texts that might be used during a sermon in the week, but now it shone in immense light. Plates, cups, and various items of gold adorned its smooth surface in a swollen crown, reflecting motes of amber against the walls. Glass of various colors hung from fine threads attached to the rafters, and they too imprinted colors that moved as they span. A royal crimson shine crossed the back of Maria’s hand. The color looked fair on her skin, and she couldn’t help but think back to the earrings from the strange man. Surely too fine for her.

Temptation won out. With a soft thud, the bag was dropped on a bench. Her hand reached into it quickly, fishing out the small velvet pouch. Her eyes darted to the entryway nervously, ears straining for a sign of anyone that would catch her in the middle of such a disobedient task. Practiced hands made for nimble fingers, and her experience swiping the occasional chocolate from the lazy cook paid off in the form of gold. Trembling in anticipation, she pulled them out of the bag and quickly turned to the table, burdened with luxury. Amongst all the finery laid a filigree laced mirror. Carefully, she propped it up at an angle to inspect her features. In a place like this, it might have been easy enough to trick herself that she, too, could be beautiful. The soft shadows complimented the gold reflection on her face in a stunning fashion. Occasional refraction of different colors from the globes crossed her features. Reds and violets dyed her hair the color of those exotic birds, if only for a moment. Maria bit her lip and shakily raised the delicate chain next to the side of her throat. She dare not put them in. 

Stories that had been diligently hummed at this pew had never had much weight to her, and Maria had been a girl who had been more wary of the darkness below than awestruck. It had taken her chance of a normal life on the island, and it would take her brother too, she had thought. The earring looked beautiful, and more shockingly, it looked so against her. Would it be so bad to go and become the wife of a god? After all, her brother would be sent below once the bare beginnings of his guardianship revealed themselves. Perhaps she was never comely here, but their blood was that of below. If Adrian could fit in, surely she could too. 

“Maria?” The voice that resonated the room in warm, deep tones caused her to jump in shock, jerking the precious items away from her ears and whirling. Red stained her cheeks with the heat of embarrassment of being caught. Before her stood a man in clean, rich clay colored pants and a white top. Above it, he wore a long and beautiful coat that drug to the floor in an intricate pattern dyed various shades of deep violets and crimsons, eventually fading to black where the cloth drug to the ground.  He was tall and lithe, with black hair and slid down his neck in waves, with crystalline ocean eyes to match. They seldom missed a thing in the church. Younger than most fathers before him, Xerces stood before her. The mothers of the city had called him handsome, but Maria only knew him for his unique kindness. “ What are you doing in here?”  

Silence filled the room soon after, as she shifted from foot to foot. Behind her back, the earrings were held so tightly as if, if willed, they could disappear entirely. “ I was just coming back to deliver the things for Talin tonight. I wanted to see how things were coming along for the celebration before I take the goats out” 

“ Maria…” His voice sounded a mix of tired and amused. A tone she was all too familiar with. “ You don’t have to lie to me. They’re beautiful, are they not? May I see them?” Xerces approached calmly, the bottom of his shoes clicking softly against the clay. He held out his hand, quirking a patient brow down at her, while she hesitated. Maria peered up through her lashes in guilt, not wanting to meet his cool gaze. However, Xerces was renowned for his patience, and with little prodding the earrings were placed delicately in his palm. With a soft grunt, he crouched to meet her eyes. “ It’s okay. I understand. I know that things have been difficult for you since your brother, and you had to be separated. It’s only natural you would want to follow.” 

“ I miss him, Father.” 

“ Of course you do. I could only imagine. I appreciate you for being so strong” His other hand placed itself on her shoulder and gripped it. “ But your duty is also to these people. More importantly, to the church and me. You may never be called below. I just want what’s best for you.” His brow furrowed down in concern. “ Please take these to Talin right away. I will pretend I did not see this tonight. Do not let me catch you doing this again, do you understand?” Maria could not meet his eyes. In response, Xerces snorted softly, his hand moved to her shoulder to her chin and tilted it up to meet his renowned gaze.

Tension filled the air at his stern expression bearing down with her. He never raised his voice at her , but it had never been necessary. Everyone in the church knew the infamy of Xerces’ stare. He had been a man from the mainland of Orus, and had fought in what he called bureaucratic battles constantly as a teenager and young man. In opposite, most of the folk on the island themselves were simple and single-minded. The few who disputed with him when he had first arrived had quickly been put in their place by silver-tongued words and knife like logic.  She swallowed and shifted from foot to foot nervously. “ I understand” 

“ Good, run along then. When you’re done tending to the goats, I will ensure I have a hot plate of food for you. Thank you.” 

Concession always felt like defeat… Xerces may have been a young father, but he was wise and concise. After all, when he had moved from Orus he came with more wealth and splendor than the church had ever seen. Some whispers wondered if he was originally one of the guardians who had come to bless the people here for their diligence. Maria wasn’t sure if she believed that part, but his insight into the minds of his followers might have been considered godly. She could hardly deny that it felt like sooth-seeing herself. With watchful eyes, he noted her quick departure away from him before turning to prepare for the rest of the ritual tonight.

Entrance halls bathed in gold became warm, welcoming hallways dimly kissed in candlelight. The ethereal sense of it ruined by the stone in her stomach about being caught. She had a hard time believing there would be no punishment for this, even if it meant he would be keeping a watchful eye on her. Maria turned left in the fork in the halls by the painting of godly men arising from a black void, down to the guest quarters. She passed the art that lined the walls, sweet smells of incense, and the scattering of volunteers that buzzed in and out of the room at the end of the hall. They gave her odd looks as she passed, clutching the large rucksack, and dutifully marched forward. As a hand laid on the knob, Maria could hear the chattering of excited young women inside. 

“ Not there Mama, I want my hair a little taller. With a strand curling down my neck just so. Maybe I can drape the silk around my shoulders?” 

“ I think your hair looks better down, over your shoulders! It’s so long and beautiful.” Another voice pipped up, younger and more excitable.

“ No one asked you, Ri! You’re just a little girl, what could you possibly know about how a woman should look?!” The first voice whined in return. “ Mama, she’s making fun of me!”

Summoning her courage, Maria swung open the door and bowed her head. The room was chaotic. A young woman of 19 was in the middle of shoving a much younger girl aside. Behind the two, a middle-aged woman fretted and fussed with the gorgeous ink locks of the maid. Talin had always been a beautiful girl. Tall and slender, with smooth skin darkened from the sun, only complimented by twin sapphire eyes. Many of the fishing boys gawked at her as she walked about the town to run errands for her family, and she had received attention from the men of the village as soon as she had come of age. It had been obvious that one day she would be picked to marry one of the guardians below. 

“ Uhm… Excuse me for interrupting. The Father sent me to deliver the rest of Talin's assemble tonight."  Maria mumbled, shuffling her feet towards one of the chairs to set down the final parts of Talin’s ensemble.

The woman in the back was first to act, peeling away from her two bickering daughters to hurriedly snatch the items out of Maria's hands. A moment of silence almost teased for a thank you between them, but she quickly turned away and moved back to her daughter. Expertly, she slapped Talin’s hand away from Ri and shuffled her younger daughter to the side.  Maria turned to the candles in the room and set to adjusting the light. There would be another volunteer coming back to do this soon. They would much rather have anyone else from the church to help, surely, but her mind was stuck back on those ruby earrings and how beautiful they had shone. If they were to be worn by a future goddess, it wouldn't hurt to get one final look. 

As if a comforted babe, Talin was soothed at the delivery of her dress. She babbled contently to herself, occasionally turning her head to ask her mother the odd question about what her new husband might be like. Her mother gushed rumors and stories about the guardians in turn. The excited squawking reminded her of parrots. While they spoke, the smell of sweet wine hung in the air. Maria closed her eyes and smiled for just a moment. They were not the same, but the sight of family made her heart ache for her brother. It was comforting to think that would some day be guarding her and the village as well. 

" Aya! Quit Lazing around and bring me the mirror!" Talin’s mother snapped as her daughter found a new part of her appearance to fret about.

The woman's sharp tone caused Maria to jump. Instinctively, she grasped a brass mirror on the wall and pulled it down carefully. The weight of it caused her to huff. Dutifully, she turned, but stopped back dead in her tracks. Before her, Talin had been transformed from a beautiful young girl to the most gracious woman she had ever seen. Her soft features became sharp, with thick black lines of charcoal over her eyes and darkened lashes. The drink had stained her lips an exquisite, flush color of crimson. Above all were the rubies. They hung down her long throat elegantly where the gems’ color reflected against her skin. Deep red, like exotic birds, flowers, and the wine in her cup. Shaking herself out of the stupor, Maria brought the mirror closer. 

" Oh wow… I hardly recognize myself. Mama, do you think this will be enough?"

“ You look more beautiful than anyone I’ve ever seen!” Maria couldn’t help blurting out behind the mirror, her small head peeking out from the huge sheet of brass. Talin tilted her head in surprise at the sudden response. Silence lingered in the room. It lasted long enough to leave the bitter sense of discomfort in the air, and to fill it Maria piped up again “Ah… I’m sorry for speaking out of turn. I wish you nothing but luck as the night goes on. “ 

“ Oh gods. If I’m beautiful, then why would I need luck? Mama. She’s mocking me like Riri! But worse!”  She stood in a huff and swatted her draping silks temperamentally away as if she was caught in spider webs. “  I don’t know who you think you are! I don’t need luck finding a husband. Not here, and especially not down there! Do you think you know better? Your mother couldn’t even stay with hers. What would your family know about anything! That’s why no one blessed you with color! With an enunciating downward jerk of her arms, the silk flared down around her sides. Ruby red mingled with gold and bronze reflections in the room. Her big blue eyes only became more clear with the water brimming in them. 

Sensing a temper tantrum, it was the mother who acted this time. She gingerly pushed her daughter into her chair and tipped the wine to her lips. “ Shh, Talin, we do not listen to the things in the dark” 

“ But I’m not from the dark! My brother was sent down as one of the guardians. We’re both from here!” Maria protested, feeling a bubble of frustration at the comment.

The acidic glare that she received for being impudent made her wince. As the woman approached, Maria hurriedly stepped back. A small hogshead of wine caught the back of her ankle, and she spilled onto her backside in a clumsy heap on the floor. Small trinkets scattered in disastrous singsong. Even the table she had reached out for wobbled but returning to its upright positioning. Instantaneously, the woman stood above, her calloused hand firmly grabbing Maria’s thin arm. Maria grimaced, expecting a hand across her cheek at the insult. 

“ I do not believe such things about you, silly girl, but you are scaring my Talin. So be off with you! Now.”

Peeling herself off the floor as with much grace as she could, Maria scrambled out of the doorway. She whirled about the corner and hurriedly made her way down the hall. Talin’s tantrum soon became a distant white noise as she approached the room of gates. Thankfully, it was quiet in this part of the church. Only priests would make their residence there, as they blessed the platform Talin would drop that very evening in sacred duty. The room itself was circular, half of it facing the church and the other half facing the hills behind. In the center was a massive trap door made of various sheets of wood, locked into place to keep the opening to the heavens safe. Above it hung a platform that resembled a bird’s cage at the top, with only two bars connecting it to the carved wood floor. It swayed to and fro from the ceiling by thick chains attached to a mechanism that would allow it to lower. The sides remained open, and in the forefront there was a small door to step out from. Sun filtered through stain glass windows that depicted women falling from the sky to an inky blackness below. From that dark color, hands reached out to catch their wives and keep them safe.

There was more decoration in the halls themselves, too. Here, the walls were adorned with fine oil paintings of impossibly handsome men and their partners. Her eyes slid side to side to take them in as she walked. They held the young women tight to their rippling bodies and kissed their necks and stomachs lovingly. Behind the pair, flourishes of crimson were used to depict passion. The women’s eyes were rolled back towards the heavens, not a thought of worry peering out from their empty expressions. The father suggested this was the look of great joy only an adult would understand. Looking upon them turned her fear into bitterness“ You don’t deserve a godly husband, I don’t care how beautiful you are.”  She grumbled. Surely the gods themselves would see Talin’s childishness and punish her for it. Perhaps they would even spit her back up to the surface in protest until they received a wiser wife! The thought made her smile, stepping out once more into the bright sunlight.

Goats on the island had a strange appearance about them. They were short and squat creatures, who moved lazily due to the fact that there were no natural predators to concern them here. Usually in speckled grays and browns, only sporting white on their long and matted fur at the very base of their legs on the hooves. A group of 10 stared up impatiently at their caretaker, a rope connecting all of them in a line. To the left, four more remained in their pen, Maria sighed softly as one stomped its hooves. “ I would not be too concerned of racing up the mountain, Sinead. You will not like where the road leads, I’m afraid.” Huffing, she collected a large weave basket with the tools she needed before grasping the rope and tugging the group along. “ Though Sinead I met a man today who looked just like you-- but unlike you, he was very kind. I think he may have been a pirate! Though… I’m not quite sure. I don’t think if pirates care very often if small things are on docks. What do you think?” Sinead’s stark bleat in response made Maria nod thoughtfully. “ I suppose you’re right. I will simply have to read another book on the matter to find out.”

On the back half of the island, the church was blessed with large, rolling pastures. The island didn’t have any noticeable outcropping or rocky coast. Thus, the hills were the tallest point, and one’s view could extend from here all the way down to the blanched, little village and sugar beach below. This was always one of her favorite chores. Knowing it would be sullied in a few hours, Maria took in the serene sight all the way out into the Horizon while the goats fed. Adrian and her had always spoken of what might have been beyond the sunset line. Far away countries with unimaginable cultures. She had even heard from the father that there was a substance that fell from the sky that was as pale as her hair! Perhaps even if it was never meant to be, Maria loved imagining what it might be like. On this little hill, she could escape her reality just a moment longer than usual. Xerces had only ever described it as cold and white, but that hardly left her any hints to imagine with. Was the texture grainy like sand, or was it as soft as cotton? Perhaps dense, like the white clay used to build homes here. If only she could reach out past that horizon…

Sinead’s impatient bleat shook Maria back to reality. What was a bright blue sky was now stained with golds and velvet crimson. She shot up in panic and jogged to the lead to pick it up off of the ground. Nervously, the goats shifted. They would normally be close to being back home at this time, and instead their slip of a caretaker led them in the opposite direction in her hurry. Through the tree line and all the way out to the other side of the island, where waves roared as they smashed into their beaches. This new territory boasted a sharp descent, where at the bottom there was a grate made of metal that seemed to fall into the earth. Before it was a small stone platform embraced by stairs that led all the way into the sand. There they were led and tied to a crooked tree. Sinead was taken off the rope and led up the stairs by Maria and her large basket. She seemed to settle him in before reaching inside for a small set of tools

Not a sound left his throat as Maria slit it. The goat’s eyes glazed over as he trembled his final life into the stones. The crimson liquid pooled at the base of the animal before draining down into the foul smelling grate. Maria crinkled her nose and frowned before turning to get another. One by one, she slaughtered the animals, hauling them over each other in a pile in the corner of the pedestal. Once the gruesome task was completed, she turned and pulled a lever to open the grate.The father had been clear about keeping it closed as long as possible. She pondered why that may be while shoving the bodies down to the chute and below. Maria furrowed her brows. They were going down to serve as the god’s feast to mirror the mortal realm, so what possible reason would there be for making sure the gate behind the church stayed shut?. Was it because this place made them sick? Could gods even get sick? It smelt way worse down there than it did up here. Something about it just didn’t make sense.

The hill fell silent from bells and bleats. Maria glanced at where Sinead once stood. The sun reflected off the fresh blood and gave it a gold sheen. Her own tawny hands were dripping it in, becoming sticky to the touch as it dried an ugly brown. She certainly hoped that she was not too late in her giving the gods their goats. The priests would have already been done with the butchering back home shortly after her departure. Dinner had likely been served at the church, and by the time she returned, Talin would have gone to the underworld. Maria had been tempted for a moment to hurry to see the finality of the festivities, but the idea of seeing someone so cruel be celebrated as she was made her chest tight. Instead, Maria took a leisurely stroll down the beach to wash off. This was a perfect time to go clean up, before the sharks started to hunt for the night. Besides, not a soul was on this side of the island during the celebration. Maria almost felt like she was the only person in the whole world. If only Adrian could be here to see the sunset here...

By the time Maria arrived at the church, the sun had long set, and stars had now taken up the sky. The moon was full tonight, and it made the walking path easy. At the hill above the white clay church, she could take in the people dancing by the windows. On further inspection, Talin’s mother wept with mixed emotions of pride and loss, all the while other women circled about her like hens.  She and her daughter Ri would stay here for the next few nights and allow the church to care for and bless them. It would be luck for Talin. Apparently the gods knew well that the mortal plane lost a beautiful light. The father had mentioned this was their way of offering condolences and thanks. 

It was her final responsibility to ensure the guest room was suitable for the two of them, and then Maria would be able to settle into her room for the night with hot goat stew and a book. Both beds were tidied up with fresh pillows and dried flower petals. They were delicate, soft things of ivory, accompanied by finer and much larger petals of crimson. The small love seat across the small room was given an additional bouquet of flowers, and a glass of wine was left by the footrest. Though her mother could not drink with her daughter on her wedding as per the island’s tradition, she could drink before resting for the evening to honor the occasion. Despite her bitterness for Talin, she was proud of the way she could take care of another family. Glancing over her work a final time, Maria nodded with satisfaction and made for the lonely corner of the church where the cellars used to be.

Morning here was always quiet, however today was especially so. Too much rum had filled many of the resident’s bellies-- and they would lay dead in their rooms for a few hours more before any real bustling came about. Maria crawled out of her bed, which had a modest wooden frame close to the red clay floor, and sucked in a breath of the damp air. The old cellar still was damp, and smelled of too ripe fruit and musk, but it had provided her a sanctuary of privacy away from the world of judgmental eyes and too many tasks. Even the father’s intentions, while kind and good, could be overbearing. She couldn’t help but wonder if he even knew as much. Perhaps it was why she was gifted this space away from everyone else. 

A bitter realization crossed Maria in a brief moment. Of course not. She was brought here to be kept away from others. It was his gift to the rest of the village. Only he would have to deal with her in great length then. A sacrifice for the community. 

Chest bound in knots, she walked out of the room to deal with the rest of the spoiled morning. Why did she always have to ruin things for herself? Normally not having to deal with the others was a blessing, and now another tremendous sense of loneliness crashed over her. Why did Adrian have to go? Even if he was a god, and what a silly thought of him being so, why did they take him so much sooner than all the others? As she walked past the room of gates, her eyes shifted to the side. Was he really going down there some day?

Her enormous silver eyes peered with shock at another girl standing in the room. She stood at one of its edges, faced away from Maria, to inspect the stained-glass. Her hands linked themselves behind her back as she swayed softly. It was Ri. It stood to reason she wouldn’t be sick like the adults, and it was common to have families visit where they had dropped their relatives the night before. Her trembling shoulders were terribly common, too. Maria shifted on her weight and glanced between the empty hall and the room once more. There was no reason to believe that Ri would have wanted her there. Surely she came here to be alone… 

With a heavy sigh, the strange girl stepped inside the room and walked the perimeter of the trap door. Her quiet steps were completely lost on Ri, who jumped as a delicate hand touched her shoulder. Expecting a harsh reaction, Maria jerked back. “ I’m so sorry to bother you. I just… I wanted to…” She trailed off, staring into the vast ocean of the other girl’s eyes. They had to be close to the same age. Even if it was for a good reason, it was terrible to lose one’s sibling. She had to be so lonely. The same loneliness that ate her own stomach away. With new-found resolve, she straightened and offered a soft smile. “ I know you must have come here to visit your sister. It’s the church’s duty to comfort you during these times.” 

“ Why would I need comfort, my sister is married to a god?” 

Almost as sharp as Talin’s, but not nearly as convincing. The glassiness in her eyes, however, offered more of the truth. It made the color in them shift like the tides. Maria couldn’t help the determination to see this girl smile. Is this what the father liked about his responsibilities? What would he do in this situation? “ It is… True, that passing the gate is a great honor, but you can still miss your sister. It’s normal because you love her. Even if you want what’s best for her!” Ri hesitated. She seemed to ponder if she wanted to be comforted at all, but eventually nodded slowly in response. “ I do miss her terribly already. I… Hope that her husband is so kind, and he better be the most handsome man in the world for her to leave us! Or else!” The two girls couldn’t help themselves, and shared a giggle at the declaration of war. “ Do… do you know anything about down there?”

“ I suppose not, but I know there will be at least one very kind boy. My brother is being sent down to live there. So if Talin meets him, I know she will have a friend at the very least. I would be willing to wager she is already quite popular there. I bet they eat up everything about her!” Maria felt guilty for lying. She had quite hoped Talin would be back by now for her bratty nature. “ So you don’t have to worry about a thing, okay?” 

Wiping her eyes and tucking her hair behind her ears, Ri slowly smiled. Maria could not help doing so in turn at her small victory. She would tell the father all about this when everyone was gone. “ Maria…”  Her own name in such a kind tone was sweet to hear. “Do you want to play? I don’t think I have quite the stomach to eat yet. I want to imagine all about what Talin is doing down there. Not only that, but I know I can’t visit her unless I am picked too, but we… We could at least pretend, right?” 

So they played. 

The girls imagined all kinds of scenarios together of the world below, taking turns imagining up their own little fantasy with one another. The two speculated that below the caves there must have been an entirely new world, with golden clouds and skies that were constantly stained the crimson and violets of a sunset. They ran back and forth to chase silken rabbits that the gods kept as their pets, and over endless fields of tall grass. It was Ri who ran to the top of the mountain and stood tall, looking down at her new friend. She glanced up at the rope that held the platform and leaped to grasp it. Maria gasped in horror. “ Ri you can’t stand there-- it’s too fragil--!”

Her voice was drowned out by Ri’s feet slapping against the wood for only a brief moment. The hollow noise around the room, followed by a scream that lasted far too long and a sickening crack. Where the young girl had stood now only had a large hole where her body had fallen through. Half of the circular structure groaned before falling apart and clattering against hard stone. Maria ran to the side of the void, falling on knees and shaking hands. Her eyes flickered quickly across the dark cave. Where was she?“ Ri?! RI!?” Seconds of waiting felt like eternity, but the fates were kind, and she was answered in kind by whimpering and soft sobs. Next to part of the broken door, a small figure was curled into a tight ball. There didn’t appear to be any blood, but the foot on the right seemed to be twisted unnaturally. It bent backwards at an odd, gruesome angle. “ Ri, I can see you. Please just hold on. I’m going to get the father right now!” 

“ What are you? You’re too young to be dropped yet…” 

Maria stopped mid-turn to stand. Her head shifted back to the darkness, where a third voice emerged. Her eyes strained to spot anything in the inky black, her fingernails digging into the shattered wood in anticipation of approaching footsteps. She waited on bated breath. 

Two eyes reflected in the darkness.

Then he stepped into the light. He was an impossibly handsome man, tall and lean. His hair auburn, curly, and fell just above his shoulders. Parts of it near the bottom seemed to stick to his alabaster skin. Something else seemed to be dangling right above his neck, glimmering gently in the newfound light. The stranger seemed to only just flinch at the brightness himself that came from the open gate before continuing to step forward. Maria gasped softly as he approached Ri, crouching down to inspect her. His long fingers brushed a stray tear away from her cheek. “ Oh, poor thing. You fell, didn’t you? What an unfortunate series of events for you. I suppose it’s all the best. I was so carried away with the first one…” His voice trailed off as curiosity crossed his expression. It quickly turned to recognition when his verdant eyes moved to meet Maria’s. He smiled. “ Oh, but your friend is here. Is that the church above us? How lucky for you, little Ri. She might lower the platform for me, so I can get you out. “

She felt frozen in time, staring back. This man really had to be a god. No one on the little island looked like him, and she could hardly imagine anyone in the world beyond to be as beautiful either. What would she even refer to him as? Why didn’t he look human? Why was his smile so sharp? 

“Well?”

“ Y…yes sir. Please give me a moment and I’ll pull the platform down. Thanks to the god…oop. Thank you… Uhm… for coming” Her cheeks flushed deep crimson as she stood and moved to the other side of the trap door. The position was precarious, now requiring her to lean over an open space to untie the platform. Maria fumbled with the ropes and tugged the structure free. The momentum almost caused her to spill into the dark pit herself, causing Maria to yelp and jump back. 

“Are you alright up there little one?”

“ Yes sir! I am opening the latch and lowering it down now. Erm… One more moment, please.”

Maria hurried about to the other side of the trap door and grasped one of the handles while the man below chuckled. Her fingers felt slick against the wood from the sweat, and her beanpole arms strained against the heavy wood of the gate. With a synchronized groan between her and the tracks, the rest of the hole to the netherworld opened, it's a wide maw pouring light into the cave below and illuminating the space in daylight. Maria stood proudly and moved to the lever at the side, glancing down to call down to the man. The platform started to hiss and moan as the chain unraveled from its base. It had always moved in a painfully slow pace. Father had mentioned this was to keep anyone descending safe from falling out from the jostling. At the very least, it gave Maria a clear view below for a minute or so more. In this light, his sharp features and teeth gleamed brilliantly of pearl, glinting in sharp points that didn’t befit the standard man. Across his neck and bare chest ran long, faint, marks that were light pink and slightly raised. As if something had scratched him wildly a few hours prior.

Along with a set of crimson ruby earrings, hung delicately from little gold chains. 

The darkness in the pit crawled towards her feet, wrapping itself delicately around her ankles. The shadows of dread curled about her calves, thighs, hips, and chest. Its tendrils embraced her throat and made it difficult to breathe. Before the sensation consumed her entirely, Maria tugged back on the lever. Equally unhappy to stop as it did start, the platform groaned and swung slowly in the center of the drop. At this perspective, the hole had to have been the depth of three churches. The gate. The goats. The stench. Her eyes shifted once more to the stained-glass on the wall, hands reaching to the heavens to catch falling maidens. No. To take them? What was the man before her? “ … Sir… You mentioned someone falling in earlier. She was supposed to go to the heavens and marry someone. I noticed…you’re wearing her earrings…”

“ Oh… I am, aren’t I? She gave them to me as a gift, you see. Are you having a hard time moving the platform down?”

“ I think it’s stuck. It would make sense. We do try to send down pretty things. She seemed rather attached to them. Does that mean you are her new husband?” 

“Is that so…?” The man tilted his eyes this way and that while he inspected her up above. In the light, his pupils dilated like a cat’s. He was getting used to the light. “ Yes. That’s right. I’m her new husband. She insisted I keep them while I find some things for her new home.”

“And the scratches?”

“Heh… An accident, I suppose. How can I help you get that platform fixed? You seem so nervous. I don’t want you to have an accident yourself, you know.” 

Maria stared long and hard down below. She had barely worked up the nerve to glance occasionally in his direction to watch, but there was no denying it now. Every little movement she made he watched. His eyes flickered to and fro at the slightest of movements. His throat moved from swallowing in excitement. Perhaps she was young and naive, but he reminded her more of a hungry dog than what she imagined a god to be. Her fingertips felt cold from the fight of her intuition battling the lessons the church had beat into her head. Something was wrong. There was one way to prove it. Mustering the rest of her bravery, Maria stepped away from the lever and met his eyes boldly with her own. “What is her name?”

“What?” He scoffed, a look of annoyance crossing his face.

“ Your wife. What is her name?” 

“Ah…Heh…” He shifted momentarily on his weight, standing over the shaking Ri. His eyes flittered down to her as he tried to think. “ I think your little friend is going into the shivers, little one.”

Her voice faltered in the beginning, but regardless, she took a deep breath and repeated herself. “ What was her name?”

Hissing softly under his breath, he crouched down to look at Ri again. He seemed to ponder for a few moments to himself, scratching his head and sighing deeply. “ It would have been easier for me if you had lowered it first … It’s not my fault that I was so excited, huh? You would really deny me a taste of a whole island? What a rude little brat.” Swiftly, he leapt, his body bounding half the distance between the bottom of the cave and the gate in an instant. Maria squealed in shock and pulled the lever up to raise the platform. It may have only raised a foot, but it was a welcome one when his fingertips grazed the bottom of the edge. A roar of anger shot out of his throat, and she fell to a heap on her knees in fear. Whatever that thing was, it was no god at all. It was some kind of beast. A monster! 

Dust kicked up where he landed on the ground. The man stood to his impressive height and grabbed his hair, pulling it back childishly while glaring up at her. He snarled his frustrations low in his throat, resounding off the walls of the cavern. “Fine! Fine! I thought brats were supposed to be stupid. So I won’t get to have my fun up there. I’ll just be…” He glanced over Maria’s scared face and then back down to the small thing curled up by his feet. “ …Thankful I suppose. For what you’ve given me. You know, in a way, I should be thankful of you in particular, brat. You’ve given me a second offering after all…” 

“W… What do you mean?! D… Don’t touch her! Give her back!”

“ I’m afraid, unless you want to lower that platform, that you won’t have much say in the matter. All this agitation has me hungry again, you see.” He bent over and grasped Ri by her good leg, half turning to leave. The jerking motion on the ground caused her to cry out in pain, reaching a small hand up to the surface. Maria cried out in turn and reached out to her too, grasping childishly at the air. “ Please don’t take her! You already had Talin. It’s not fair! Please!”

He paused for only a moment to wait for action, but despite herself, Maria knew the platform could not move. She knew that he would not be good to his word. That he wanted to come up to the surface for the same reason a wolf may enjoy the paradise that the island had to offer. It was all to feast. Shadows of dread forced themselves down her throat. The inaction said enough, and it only took a moment for him to turn once more. The two disappeared into the black. Fear expanded in her chest and turned to helplessness in an eruption of emotion, and when it became too much to bear, she screamed. It was fire in her lungs. It burned. The heat ricocheted in her rib cage, exploding up into her mouth, and threatened to consume her whole. Rolling sobs raced out of her body, forcing Maria to slump down onto her stomach and weep, body shaking from the emotions in the aftermath. 

It was the father who came to the scene first, rushing to the room. He had held her, shielding her from the view of curious priests, who were eventually turned away with great convincing. Their heads had at first been bobbing into the room of gates with disturbed horror at what they heard. Xerces’ sharp words and hard stares kept the world private, however, for a little while longer without much more prodding. She sobbed into his arms and provided context as best as she could, having to pause and struggle out words that felt like they might just make her choke entirely. Patiently, he endured the broken story. 

The rest of the day was dedicated to ensure the room of gates was closed, crates and boards blocking the entry to the open hole. Maria had been sent to her room during the work, but she could not help peering out of the doorway to watch the men work with an empty feeling in her stomach. Xerces’ final words that morning rang in her head again and again, a response after she explained the monster that had appeared before her. The one who took Ri, the one who ate Talin.

“ Sometimes, Maria, the most beautiful things are horrible too. I know this isn’t what you expected to see. I wanted to shield you all from it. It does not change who and what they are, and what must be given. I know in time you will come to find this as a blessing. But for now-- the girl’s mother simply needs to know Ri was chosen, too. This will be our little secret. Okay?”

Shaking the words out of her head, Maria stepped inside of her room and shut the door. Though Xerces was wise and a convincing man, she could not take his words to heart. There was nothing about what that thing did that was a blessing. She refused to believe that was what Adrian could become. She was overcome with frustration that there wasn’t anything she could do. Not a soul in the village would believe her over the father, not even the girl’s mother. One day she would find Adrian, and she would leave this awful place, away from monsters and gods. The cool and dark environment used to be comfortable, but now all she could think to was that endless black. Just in the corners of her imagination, she could see Ri being pulled out of sight by a man with earrings that glinted in the darkness.

They were the color of blood. 

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

AUGUST Celebrity Birthdays & Events

August Birthdays

Leo Stars (July 23-Aug 22) 1: Tempestt Bledsoe, Oluchi Onweagba 2: Alvina August 3: Chandler Kinney, Jo Marie Payton 4: Eris Baker, Yolonda Ross 5: Chip Fields, Janet DuBois, Thishiwe Ziqubu 6: Merrin Dungey, Regina Van Helvert 7: Kheris Rogers 8: Meagan Good, Kimberly Brooks, Tawny Cypress, Sherri Marina 9: Whitney Houston, Angely Gaviria, Troy Leigh-Anne Johnson, Ashlei Sharpe Chestnut 10: Yaani King 

11: Viola Davis, Sophie Okonedo 12: Imani Hakim, Yvette Nicole Brown 13: Dawnn Lewis, Deborah Ayorinde 14: Jackée Harry, Halle Berry, Marsai Martin, Aliyah Moulden, Kabrina Adams 15: Christine Adams, Andrea Lewis, Tanedra Howard 16: Angela Bassett, Simone Leigh, Karen Obilom 19: Sara Martins, Tracie Thoms, Paula Jai Parker 20: Ashley Nicole Williams 21: Loretta Devine, Kelis, Kaliegh Garris, Kiami Davael 22: Rachel Adedeji

Virgo Stars (Aug 23-Sept 22) 23: Angelique Noire, Clarissa Thibeaux 24: Ava Duvernay, Harriett D Foy 25: Ashley Winfrey, China Anne McClain 26: Ola Ray, Keke Palmer 27: Chandra Wilson, Demetria McKinney, Tiffany Boone 28: Samantha Liana Cole, Jessieca Alford, Quvenzhane Wallis 29: Kelly McCreary 30: Angel Coulby, Xernona Clayton 31: Phina Oruche, Jaylen Barron

August Events:

1: Spiderman Day | 2: International Friendship Day | 9: International Day of the World's Indigenous People | 13: Pan-African Flag Day | 23: National Dark Skin Day | 26. ANNOUNCEMENT: WE DO NOT CELEBRATE WHITE WOMEN'S RIGHT TO VOTE DAY HERE | 28: Power Rangers Day | 31: International Day for People of African Descent

[avictimofthejazz]

Tawnie: Ooh, somebody has a crush

Amy: Pfft, I don’t have a crush on Face. I just think he's cool. It’s not like I stay up at night thinking about him.

*Later that night*

Amy, very much awake: Uh oh.

[monstersandmaw]

If you are doing the one-word prompt game, then, scarecrow for my prompt

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

___

Wow. This one really got away from me, but then again, I probably owe you a longer story after all these years anyway! Thank you for the prompt! (heavily inspired by this haunted village ambience video on YouTube that I listen to a lot while writing).

Contents: a rather lonely male scarecrow x artistic gn reader, haunted village, a cheeky magpie, a cute rabbit, lots of soft fluff, sfw Wordcount: 2987

(prompts closed)

___

The last rays of sunlight glanced off mounded clumps of moss that choked the old, drystone wall on your left, and gave them all a little glint of gold. Part of you almost believed that if you were to risk a closer look into the cracks between the stones, you would find fairy coins and gems stashed there for safe keeping. Mud splashed up your boots from the rutted, potholed road which wound away down the hill, and off to your left, the looming beech wood whispered and rustled constantly, sending spiralling copper leaves out into the open fields to the right of the road.

Between the trees, twilight now began to pool and stretch, spreading like an ink stain over the carpet of fallen beech leaves and driving off the sun as night took its turn to watch over the woods and all the creatures who dwelt there.

A tawny owl took up a call from somewhere nearby. The broken half-refrain that sought a mate to complete the melody rang softly between the still trees, and you sighed, hoping he’d find a mate.

You’d heard about this place, the abandoned village in the valley, and had been travelling on foot for days to reach it with your sketch book in your bag and enough food to last you a week if you were careful. To your surprise, you glimpsed bright, fat, round pumpkins growing in the fields on your right, their coiling tendrils spreading merrily across the roughly tilled earth despite the place having lain barren and empty for generations. No one who lived within ten miles of this place ever dared come down this road, and yet there were fresh crops still growing in abandoned farmland.

“Full of ghosts and demons that place is,” the old baker’s wife had hissed at you that morning when you’d bought a loaf for the journey at the nearest town. “Don’t you go wandering around there…”

As you’d left that small, riverside town, with its creaking water mill and ringing blacksmith’s, a tall young man in a dark green cloak had come up to you and pressed a charm into your hands. He’d had a sharp, serious face and deep, black eyes, and people had whispered in the pub the night before that he was the witch’s son. You’d looked down at your hands and found a smooth disc made of antler with a familiar stave rune carved into it.

“To keep you safe,” he’d said, and turned away. You watched him walk a couple of paces before he stopped, sighed, and turned back to you. “I’ve been there,” he said. “To the village. Don’t take anything from there unless it’s given to you first.”

Unnerved by his odd advice, you’d just nodded, thanked him, and donned the protective amulet. It had warmed against your skin as it hung on its leather cord around your neck, and you ran your fingers over it a few times as you walked, thinking about this words again.

Now, as you peered over the planks of a rotting, dilapidated fence overlooking the village, you caught sight of a twisted old apple orchard swathed in evening mist in the wide, verdant valley off to your right, and what seemed to be a dark figure standing in the centre of it. Your heart fairly stopped beating until you realised that they weren’t moving at all, and it was only the faint breeze tugging at the corner of an old coat that was catching your eye. It was a scarecrow.

You camped that night in the only house that still seemed to have a solid, thatched roof, lighting a fire in the cold grate and sleeping in your bedroll on the flagstone floor rather than occupying the empty bed that had been left behind. It felt rude and presumptuous somehow.

After a spot of breakfast the next morning, you banked the fire and left your belongings neatly by the hearth, and looked around the small, single-roomed stone cottage before leaving. “Thank you for letting me sleep here,” you said aloud to no one in particular.

It seemed a bit silly, but it also important somehow, and you nearly jumped out of your skin when a magpie flapped its wings in the rafters above and laughed at you. “No harm in saying thank you,” you muttered to it, and stumbled out of the door, embarrassed.

Your morning was spent wandering the village, getting to know the layout of the old, tumbledown buildings, but your afternoon took you to the ancient apple orchard where you found the scarecrow again, standing sentry in the centre of the trees with his arms spread wide, almost in welcome.

You came to a halt in front of him and looked up into his weathered face, surprised at how friendly his features were. Sure, his face was made of sack cloth and bits of pale straw stuck out at the cuffs and hem of his linen shirt, but the roots that had been chosen for his hands all had four fingers and a gnarled thumb, and the branches that made up his legs beneath the brown broadcloth trousers stuffed with straw were in proportion with the rest of his body. He had big, leather boots on which, like the rest of his clothes and the wide-brimmed, leather hat he wore, were in far better condition than they had any right to be after he’d been presumably hanging on his post for a hundred years or more.

“I almost want to offer you an apple,” you chuckled nervously. “Don’t worry, I haven’t come to thieve from your orchard. I’ve just come to draw the trees. I hope that’s alright. You mind if I sit with you a while?”

Obviously, you got no answer from the silent scarecrow, and although his face was warped with age, it seemed to have a kindly, almost curious set to its vague features, and the stitched mouth seemed to smile a little at the corners.

You sat with your back resting against his post and lost yourself in the careful skate of charcoal and graphite over paper, drawing the speckled feathers of a thrush as it hopped about looking for snails, the curve of the old, white gate that hung off its hinges at a jaunty angle, the lines of the roofs of the village with their ribcage rafters showing, the twisting trunks of the trees like gnarled hands reaching up from the earth to share their fruits with the world. Your magpie joined you for a while and hopped about, chattering away to himself, and you laughed as he began to play with a fallen leaf for a while before flapping off and leaving a single feather behind. You drew that too, lying in the dewy grass, but left it where it lay. The warning of the witch’s son reminded you not to take what had not been offered.

It was only when a cool breeze caressed the back of your neck like a lover’s breath that you jolted and realised how long you’d been sitting there.

The had light faded unnoticed from the brilliant pinks and oranges of sunset to the calm, quiet lilacs and blues of dusk that you blinked, and you could barely see three feet in front of you now. It was only because your paper was white that you could see the marks after all. Fog rolled in from the edges of the low-walled orchard, but despite the way the white fingers crawled across the grass, it didn’t seem threatening in the least.

Groaning and rolling your neck to ease the built-up tension and stiffness, you set your sketchbook down and clambered to your feet, joints creaking after so long in one pose, and you stretched out your back as well. You looked up at the scarecrow and frowned. You could have sworn he had been looking towards the gate when you’d arrived, but his head was bowed down now and looking in your direction.

“You’ve been watching me sketch, have you?” you said, not sounding quite as confident as you’d hoped. Perhaps he’d just moved in a breath of wind earlier. “Well, don’t judge me too harshly, hm? It’s the having fun that counts, not the end result. I’m sorry I intruded on your peace for so long though.”

Again the softest, gentlest breeze wafted around your face and the pages of your sketchbook fluttered open until they stopped on one you’d done of the scarecrow himself.

You cocked an eyebrow. “You like it?” you asked, not really believing that you were actually communicating. “I’m not sure I captured your smile quite right. I can come back again tomorrow and try again though. You’ll tell me if I’m not welcome, right?”

In a flash of black and white wings that came down out of nowhere and made you yip in surprise, the magpie landed on the scarecrow’s shoulder and gave another harsh, laughing chatter at you. He almost seemed to be mocking your startled reaction. Then he fluttered down onto the grass, hopped around a bit, and stooped to pick something up. When he flapped back up to the scarecrow’s shoulder and hopped about, he had the iridescent feather in his beak. He cocked his head a few times and then stuck his neck forwards towards you.

“For me?” you asked, reaching slowly for the feather.

The bird nodded, and as you took it, he spoke. “For you.”

Your eyes went wide and you almost dropped the feather. The black and white bird danced around, apparently enjoying your surprise. Then he made another few cawing noises, flapped his wings, and then disappeared off through a gap in the apple trees. “Well, thank you,” you croaked into the silence he left behind. You knew that corvids could imitate human speech, but that had all been very… precise.

Patting the scarecrow’s chest near his shoulder in an informal farewell, you turned to pick up your sketchbook from the dewy grass and looked back one last time at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

When you stepped over the ruined gate to the orchard the next morning, you made deliberate note of where the scarecrow was looking, and it had definitely changed overnight. Now he was looking across at his right hand that was stretched out wide on the cruciform support from which he hung. In it, you saw a flash of white and a few flashes of colour, and frowned. He hadn’t been holding anything the previous day.

As you approached, you could see better what it was that he was holding, and you exhaled slowly. It was a beautiful bunch of silvery dried grasses, with bright dandelions, red poppies, and dusky blue harebells, all wrapped around with the fluffy heads of old man’s beard that loved to ramble freely over the hedgerows and walls.

“Is… Is that for me too?” you asked. “How did you get them?” An idea lodged itself in your mind and you couldn’t shake it. He was definitely able to look in different directions, so that must mean… “Can you move?”

Only the wind answered you for a long, stretching moment. Then, with the kind of aching slowness that made your heart stop, his head began to turn. Slowly, carefully, he nodded once.

You swallowed and took half a step back, heartbeat thudding. “Is it… Is it alright that I’m here?”

Again, to your immense relief, he nodded again. He moved like the rusty hinge of an old barn door.

“Can you speak?”

He paused, and for a second you thought perhaps he hadn’t understood, but then he nodded a third time.

You licked your lips nervously and looked at the flowers. “So… are they for me?”

Yet another nod was your only answer.

“Did you gather them yourself? I mean, can you… get down from there?” The idea of him roaming around the fields while you’d been fast asleep was partly terrifying and partly rather sweet, and it prompted another question before you’d even waited for the first to be answered. “Are we the only two people here?”

A warm, amused chuckle, like the crunching of autumn leaves, sounded from the scarecrow. He shook his head slightly.

“‘No’ we’re not alone or ‘no’ you can’t get down? Or ‘no’ you didn’t get them yourself?”

The gnarled fingers of his left hand twitched and then the rope that seemed to hold him lashed to the support loosened a fraction and he held up a finger in a gesture that asked you to wait, to slow down.

“I’m sorry,” you said, stepping back again. “I get a bit ahead of myself sometimes.”

Another friendly laugh sounded and you watched the stitched gash that formed his mouth stretch upwards at the corners. His hollow eye sockets lifted a little too and his whole face expressed a gentle mirth. “I can speak…” he said in a rasping, reedy voice. “Though I have had no one but that wretched magpie to talk to for years.”

He spoke fondly enough of the creature, despite his words, and you smiled.

“I can move and get down, though it takes… effort.”

“Oh. Do you mind if I stay and draw some more?”

“Not at all,” he said.

“You’re welcome to come down and join me. I could even draw you again… see if I can get your face right this time.”

He laughed, and the ropes uncoiled on their own, gently lowering him down to the grass. He was about your height, though he stood crookedly, leaning against the support behind him. He kept the brim of his hat tilted down as if to shield his face from you, and he shifted self-consciously as you looked at him. He held out the flowers and you watched the way his hands moved like living flesh, though they were undoubtedly made of the roots of a tree.

You took the flowers carefully from him and felt oddly choked. “I can’t remember the last time someone brought me flowers.”

“There’s not much out at this time of year, but…” he shrugged. “I found what I could. You were kind to sit and chat with me yesterday, even though you didn’t know I could hear you, and the magpie said you were polite in Old Rose’s cottage…”

“Thank you.”

Setting the flowers down beside your satchel, you drew out your sketchbook and sat cross-legged on the ground nearby. He sat as well, stretching his legs out in front of him and letting his hands lie softly in his lap. For a while he just watched you and then seemed to doze as the sun rose and lent a little weak warmth to the autumn day.

After a while, you began to ask him about the history of the village and why it had eventually been abandoned, and he talked in his rasping, faltering way for hours. A rabbit snuffled through the grass as the day wore on, and you froze, not wanting to startle it. It came right up to him, ears forward, nose twitching.

“Hello,” he murmured with a fond chuckle, and the creature leapt straight up into his lap. He cradled it and you carefully turned a new page in your sketchbook to try and capture it.

Luckily, the rabbit was in no hurry to leave, and he stroked his fingers through its fur long enough that you got three decent sketches out of it before it hopped off in search of the dewy dandelions growing between the trees. When he looked up at you and found you watching, he dipped his head again in a clearly bashful gesture.

“Want to see?” you said, waggling the sketchbook.

He nodded, and you went over to sit beside him. His finger shook as he trailed it carefully around the edge of the sketch, mindful not to smudge it, and then he looked up at you. This close, you could see the weave of the sack cloth that made up his face and the crinkles where the material pulled around his mouth and empty eye sockets. “You… I… Is this really how you see me?” he asked in a whisper barely louder than the breeze through the grasses.

With a frown, you turned your gaze back to the sketchbook to look at the drawings more critically. Was he offended? You thought you’d managed to capture the gentle way he’d cradled the rabbit’s soft body, the way his gnarl-knuckled hands had gracefully stroked its fur, the fond tilt of his head as he’d regarded the vulnerable creature in his care, but you’d also taken your time to match the way he listed slightly to one side, his broken-branch spine and crooked limbs not keeping him perfectly upright. It lent him a soft, shy quality, and you nodded. “I think you’re beautiful,” you said and then flushed hot with embarrassment.

He turned his head away and then looked back again, regarding you from the dark, shadowy hollows of his eyes. “No one has ever found me beautiful,” he said. “Not even the farmer who made me. I’m supposed to be frightening, you know? All the village children used to be afraid of me.”

“I’m sure you could be if you needed to be,” you said. “If I were here to steal apples, I mean. The rabbits aren’t a threat, and the magpie is only playful.”

“You could take anything you liked,” he breathed. “I wouldn’t stop you.”

“But could you if you wanted to?”

He paused. “Yes.”

You brought your hand to his cheek and found the sack cloth warm beneath your palm despite the autumn chill in the air. “Let me stay and sketch a while longer?”

“As long as you like,” he whispered back. “You’re welcome here as long as you like.”

___

| Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

[leejungchans]

obvious — c.sc

༉‧₊˚✧ for my 1k event !

requested by @svtglitch : hiya sol :00 may i request bakery/florist au with seungcheol (svt) ? (bee tee dubs i <3 u)

a/n: hi tawni <33 tysm for requesting!!!! idk if this is what you had in mind but i hope you’ll still like the direction i went w this 💕 ily too muahhh

word count | 0.9k

pairing | choi seungcheol (svt) x gender neutral reader

genre | fluff, bakery au, florist au

warning(s) / includes | brief alcohol and food mentions (please lmk if i missed anything!)

“Lovely wedding, isn’t it?”

You smile at the man who had just joined you at the open bar as he hops onto the stool next to yours.“Mm, indeed,” you agree before taking a sip from your glass. Apple juice, because you can’t drink on the job. “Though, it’s bad manners to look better than the groom, don’t you think, Seungcheol?”

As disgustingly corny as it is to say, he’ll always be the prettiest person you know. He’s the prettiest when he’s greeting customers with a warm grin, when he’s wearing his pink apron that has Cherry Bakery emblazoned across the front in red bubble font, even when he’s pulling an all-nighter to put the finishing touches on his special orders, icing sugar dusted across his shirt and counters as though a mini snowstorm had wreaked havoc in your kitchen.

And he’s still the prettiest right now, in his wedding guest attire of polished shoes, slacks and a crisp button-up, the sleeves neatly cuffed to expose his forearms. I clean up well, you recall him joking earlier today as you both rushed around the reception venue. It’s perhaps the biggest understatement you’ve heard this week, but you only had enough time to respond with a teasing call of just don’t get frosting on your shirt!

“Have you seen the floral centerpieces?” Seungcheol asks casually, gently plucking you out of your thoughts to bring you back to reality. “The colours and composition are stunning, whoever made them must be an artistic genius.”

You hide your smile behind the rim of your glass, cheeks warming from his praises. “I could say the same for whoever made the wedding cake. Tasted as good as it looked too. Have you tried it?”

Seungcheol angles his body to properly face you. Your eyes naturally drift to his collarbones, now further highlighted by the glow of the fairy lights hanging above you. He catches you staring, and smirks. “No, not yet,” he purrs, “maybe we could share a slice before it’s all gone—”

“Oh, good! You’re both here!” The bride glides over to you from the dance floor with her husband not far behind, and you’re reminded of a princess as the floaty tulle of her gown kisses the polished tiles.

Radiating pure happiness, she takes your hands in hers. “I just wanted to thank you again,” she tells you sincerely. Her wide eyes, accentuated by shimmery makeup, brim with unshed tears. The flowers looked so lovely today. I’m so glad my friend recommended you, I’m already planning to press some from my bouquet!”

Unable to conceal your relief at the positive reception, you give her hands a reassuring squeeze. “I’m happy that you like them. Congratulations again, and thank you for letting us join the reception!”

The bride beams, cheeks aglow with a pretty pink flush that you liken to the roses from her bouquet. “Of course, you two helped make this possible!” She moves on to Seungcheol. “And you—the cake was incredible. I know I said the same at the tasting, but it really is the best cake I’ve ever had.”

“Thank you,” he says with a gracious smile, “it’s an honour to be part of your special day.”

“I’m no baker, but the icing details must’ve taken forever,” the groom chimes in, “you did a great job.”

Briefly, Seungcheol’s eyes meet yours, and you just manage to catch the mirth swirling in them before he turns back to the couple. “Ah, well, I got lots of encouragement.”

The glance you two shared had seemingly not gone unnoticed under the bride’s observant gaze. “Babe,” she chirps with a snap of her fingers, looking over at her husband, “don’t they look like they’d be cute together? A lot of people meet their partners at weddings, y’know.”

“Actually,” out of the corner of your eye, you catch Seungcheol biting down on his lower lip to suppress a laugh, “we…uh—”

Taking your hesitance for discomfort, the groom offers a sheepish smile. “Sorry, we don’t mean to make you both uncomfortable.” He gazes affectionately at his wife as he interlaces their fingers. “We should get you some water, hm, darling? You’ve already had a few flutes of champagne.”

Seungcheol waits until the couple are out of earshot before swivelling in his stool to face you with a pout. “I’m surprised they haven’t noticed,” he mumbles, looking down at his shirt, “I thought it was pretty obvious I matched with you too.”

You grin, wholly endeared by your boyfriend’s sulky display as you pat his knee in consolation. “You know what they say, love does make you blind. But if it makes you feel any better, I think you look really good today.”

He perks up at your words, a cheeky smile now playing on his lips as he leans in close enough for you to catch a whiff of his cologne. The warm, woody scent is comfortingly familiar, reminding you of rare, lazy mornings with your head tucked under his chin, face nuzzled into his soft T-shirt. It’s a smell you now associate with him, with home.

“Well, I think you look even better,” he murmurs, leaving you hypnotised by the adoration dripping from his gaze, “what do you say we go get some of that cake now?”

Your hand slips into his, much like all the other times you’ve done before. “I say that’s a sweet idea.”

“Not as sweet as you, though.”

“Mm, let’s leave the cheesiness to the bride and groom for tonight.”

a/n: mom i love him 🧎🏻‍♀️ anyways if you made it this far ty for reading 💗

if you enjoyed my writing, please take a little time to reblog and/or give feedback to support it <3 interact with content creators please !

[happinessisallinyourhead]

Here's to a 2018 that ends in a place where I feel good about my life.

[i-luvsang]

first day of work but also pcd is beating my ass so Thoughts

- yeosang would take pictures all the things you said you liked on a trip to the mall, goes back the next day to get them all as little gifts to give you

- yunho is the boyfie to cuddle you and squish you if you try to leave.

“five more minutes *pout* please my love *puppy dog eyes* pretty please”

- felix would totally make baking into a competition if you both were bakers

- minghao would be the type of best friend to just enter your house when you aren’t there to make you food and have a sleepover if you were having a bad day

teehee you’re welcome (- 3 -)

oMG I LOVE THIS ALL THANK YOU TAWNI. good luck with work and stuff you got this!!!

this yeosang thought has me in tears. it all started when you went shopping at the mall together for the first time and you pointed out a few jewelry pieces you liked, nothing too fancy though. and the idea pops into his head to but the one that you said you liked most. but, it was still kind of early on in your relationship so he felt too shy to get it for you right away. the next day he happened to drive past the same mall and decided to hop in and grab that piece of jewelry. issue was, he got into the store and completely forgot which one you wanted most. so, from then on, he started snapping quick pictures of you favorite items so he’d never forget exactly what gift you’d love the most. he’s always subtle and bashful about it, and though you find it to be the sweetest thing ever, he always says it’s no big deal.

this is factual about yunho. “noooo don’t goooo” is a phrase you routinely hear, approximately every time you use the restroom in his presence. yes, at this point, that one’s more of a joke, but especially if you’re leaving for the day or even a few hours, he always wants “just five more minutes.” he just loves you so much and would rather die than let you go while you’re cuddling. always uses his irresistible puppy eyes, his strength, or both to keep you from being anywhere but in his arms.

baking competitions with felix >>> if you like to bake/are good at it the competitions are oddly serious?? not that you don’t joke around n stuff but like. y’all are taking this seriously !! when you’re both done, you make the members try everything without knowing who made which treat, and when people like yours more he doesn’t know whether to feel sulky or proud. he’s all “but don’t you guys like my baking” *pouts* but also “yeahhh that’s my baby get it !!!” there’s also the chance that you’re like me and can’t bake to save your life. even then he tries to have banking competitions with you. only thing is, he just ends up making it for you, and he’s all sweet and cute like “no no it’s okay, you didn’t know it’s not your fault” or “i got this, you just gotta mix it like this.” you both kinda give up on doing competitions because it gets too complicated and messy and he just ends up baking a singular thing with you, trying to teach you how he makes his brownies.

we all know i’m in love with minghao so im currently crying because that’s so cute :,) he has a copy of your key (he’s the only other person who does) and he knows where everything in your apartment is. so when you text him about how rough your day is going, he gets off work as early as he can, because no matter how much you tried to make it seem like it’d be fine, he could tell just from your texts how bad it was. he rushes off to your apartment, but stops at a grocery store along the way because he remembers that you at the last of your favorite snacks the last time he was over (which was approximately two days ago). so, with his hands full of snacks to last days (that you’ll both probably gorge on tonight), he steps into your house and starts cooking right away, pulling up your favorite recipe for the food you said you were craving yesterday. all by the time you get home, he has dinner on the table, his laptop, blankets, pillows, and snacks set up for a movie, and the herbal teas he left at your place a long time ago pulled out to help you relax.

[crazydreamercycle]

A catalogue of names that are just straight up normal words

Female

Acacia

Amber

Amethyst

Amity

Anemone

Anise

April

Aria

Aspen

Aster

Aura

Aurora

Autumn

Avalon

Avril (April, French)

Azalea

Azure

Bee

Beryl

Blanche (White, French)

Blondie

Blossom

Brandy

Bunny

Burgundy

Cadence

Calanthe

Calla

Camellia

Candy

Caprice

Chalice

Charisma

Charity

Chastity

Cherish

Cherry

Clarity

Clematis

Clemency

Columbine

Comfort

Coral

Coriander

Crystal

Daffodil

Dahlia

Daisy

Dawn

Delight

Delta

Destiny

Diamond

Dot

Dove

Dream

Easter

Ebony

Eglantine

Emerald

Epiphany

Essence

Fae

Faith

Fancy

Fawn

Felicity

Fern

Flower

Gay

Genesis

Genie

Gill

Ginger

Glory

Grace

Harmony

Hazel

Heather

Heaven

Holly

Honey

Honour

Hope

Hyacinth

Iris

Ivy

Jacinth

Jasmine

Jonquil

Journey

Joy

July

June

Kay

Kitty

Lacy

Lark

Laurel

Lavender

Liberty

Lilac

Lily

Lotus

Love

Magnolia

Maple

Marigold

May

Meadow

Melody

Mercy

Merry

Minty

Miracle

Missy

Misty

Modesty

Monday

Myrtle

Nan

Nanny

Olive

Opal

Paisley

Pansy

Patience

Peace

Pearl

Pen

Penny

Peony

Petal

Petunia

Piety

Piper

Pleasance

Poppy

Porsche

Posy

Precious

Primrose

Princess

Prissy

Queen

Rainbow

Rose

Rosemary

Rosy

Royalty

Ruby

Rue

Sapphire

Scarlet

Scout

Serenity

Shell

Sherry

Sienna

Spirit

Spring

Star

Sue

Summer

Sunshine

Symphony

Tansy

Tawny

Teal

Temperance

Tempest

Tiara

Topaz

Treasure

Trinity

Unique

Unity

Velvet

Verity

Violet

Willow

Winter

Male

Ace

Archer

Art

August

Baker

Bishop

Blaze

Brand

Brock

Bud

Buddy

Buster

Case

Cash

Chance

Chip

Chuck

Clair (Light/clear, French)

Clay

Clement

Cliff

Colt

Constant

Coy

Crew

Curt

Dane

Deacon

Dean

Den

Drake

Duke

Dutch

Earl

Earnest

Fisher

Fletcher

Flint

Ford

Forest

Foster

Fox

Frank

Garland

Gene

Gore

Grant

Gray

Grey

Griffin

Gunner

Guy

Hale

Hall

Hardy

Heath

Herb

Jack

Junior

Kelvin

King

Kip

Lane

Legend

Leo

Major

Mark

Marshal

Mason

Mat

Merit

Messiah

Miles

Moss

Newt

Noble

Norm

Pace

Peers

Peregrine

Pierce

Piers

Placid

Porter

Prince

Prosper

Ray

Read

Red

Reed

Rich

Ridge

Rob

Rocky

Rod

Roman

Rusty

Satchel

Scott

Shaw

Shepherd

Sly

Smith

Sonny

Spike

Stan

Sterling

Stew

Stone

Tad

Talon

Tanner

Teddy

Tiger

Trace

Van

Walker

Ward

Webster

Will

Wilt

Wolf

Woody

Wright

Unisex

Alpha

Angel

Ash

Berry

Blessing

Briar

Brook

Carol

Cat

Cedar

Christmas

Cyan

Dell

Derby

Dusty

Flick

Fortune

Gale

Garnet

Happy

Harper

Haven

Haze

Honor

Hunter

Indigo

Jade

Jewel

Justice

Kit

Lake

Lucky

Max

Merle

Noel

Ocean

Page

Patsy

Phoenix

Praise

Prudence

Rain

Raven

Reign

River

Rowan

Royal

Sage

Sandy

September

Sequoia

Silver

Sky

Sparrow

Storm

Sunday

Sunny

Temple

Wisdom