#then you have juniper who was just odd from birth

[fae-aoife]

- - - PERSONALITY

(+) CURIOUS // She was born with a hunger for knowledge, and for understanding. Nothing upsets Aoife like an unanswered question, and she’ll go out of her way to fill in any gaps. This was something her parents allowed. They had a hands-off approach to their daughter, and permitted her to explore the world and learn at her own pace if only because it kept her out from under their feet. She’ll take things apart just to see how they go back together again, though she’s also quickly frustrated if things don’t go her way. It’s why she has such a love/hate relationship with the human world: she’s seen so little of it so there’s endless potential for exploration, but it’s also intensely frustrating because it’s so far removed from the world she experienced growing up that she struggles to wrap her mind around so much of it.

(+) LOYAL // To the point of devotion. Some might even say obsession. When Aoife cares for someone, there’s no line she wouldn’t cross. She’s typically slow to develop those feelings (with the odd exception, like Juniper – she knows he’s terrified of her, but she adores him and he’s so sweet when he’s spooked), but once they’re there she will carry them forever. This does on occasion lead to moments of hypocrisy, because she’ll fly into a rage over someone she doesn’t care for, and then willingly overlook similar flaws in those she does care for. Those who earn her loyalty find it to have deep roots and unshakeable foundations.

(+) AMBITIOUS // When Aoife looks at the world around her, she doesn’t see a finished piece, a framed painting. She sees gaps. Empty spots, where things ought to be different. Many might disagree with the things she would like to put into this world, but no one can say she won’t work hard for it. When the mood takes her, she’ll work tirelessly towards her goal. She wants never to be bored, and rarely sits still. She doesn’t have some end goal, some lofty ambition that overshadows everything else; rather, she’ll spot something she doesn’t like, throw everything into fixing it, and then flit off to whatever else has caught her attention. Nobody can accuse her of shying away from hard work. The only caveat is that she has to be personally invested in it - she’ll certainly not waste her time on someone else’s ambitions, not unless they benefit her, too.

(-) DECEITFUL // It’s barely even on purpose. With her youthful face and her sweet smile, most look at Aoife and see a doe-like little darling. Humans, for the most part, see what they want to see, so they don’t notice that when she smiles her teeth are a little too sharp, and her gaze always lingers just a little too long. They choose to see a dear thing, rather than the centuries old malevolent creature that she is. It used to infuriate her, to be so consistently underestimated - in the Otherworld most of them know better now, but any time she forays into the Mortal Realm she has to contend with leery old men calling at her from their cars, well meaning idiots offering to ‘walk her home’, asking if she’s alright as if she can’t take care of herself. It used to infuriate her, until she came to realise the power in being underestimated. Nobody sees you coming. She leans into it now, and is happy to play up the sweet young ingenue lens that people so readily view her through. (Part of what endears Juniper so much to her is that unlike most that live in the Mortal Realm, he looks at her with fear. She thinks this is sensible of him, as well as cute.)

(-) UNFORGIVING // There are no second chances. Once Aoife has been crossed, that being is as good as dead to her. If they’re human, they might really be dead. If they’re fae, she’ll do everything in her power to ignore their existence, and will be willingly blind to any redeeming feature they might crave. Her loyalty is hard won and unconditional, but on the other end of that scale is her hatred. She has no capacity for forgiveness, and has been known to harbour grudges for centuries, often over petty things - a human that she is particularly possessive about, failing to tell her about something she felt she ought to know about, things like that.

(-) JEALOUS // There is a story that Aoife’s mother told her: when Aoife was curled up in the warm confines of the womb, there was another in there alongside her. And yet when the time came for her birth, only one little fae emerged. As the story goes, Aoife developed a distaste for sharing at such a young age that she refused even to share her mother with a sibling. She was greedy when she was young, and grew into a petulantly jealous immortal. When Aoife has something, it belongs to her and no one else, and there isn’t a soul on any realm that could convince her to part with something she cares for. If someone challenges her over her possessions, she’ll fly into a rage. Even those she might consider to be ‘friends’ know better than to ask Aoife to share: whether it be food, a human, a lover, a flower, she’ll only clutch it all the tighter if she knows someone else wants it.

#about

[not-poignant]

It's odd questions time! Can you tell how fae give birth (in general, because I get that there may be exceptions)? Like, is it always in human form (like Crielle)? Though I suppose that the swans that lived with Oengus probably gave birth in their true form? Are there species in which is the male to give birth (like sea horses)? Anything else that you think may be relevant for our curiosity?

Woo I love odd questions time!

I don’t really have a ‘general’ answer. I mean I suppose I’d say that most do give birth via a vaginal canal or cloaca or something that basically mirrors what would happen in like the ‘our realm natural counterpart.’

But Augus was born in a lake. Like. A lake gave birth to him. He had a weird lake vine umbilical cord that passed nutrients to him (and is why he has a navel) but he was...born...in a lake...genetically...fae are...the best scientists and make a lot of sense always.

Shifters can give birth in shifter form, but if they choose to, they can’t change into human form for the duration. And because it can be dangerous for shifters to stay in true form for too long (i.e. they can lose sight of themselves like Oengus’ swan offspring did), most elect to give birth in human (or hybrid) form. Which is why instead of a clutch of swans, in Gulvi’s case, there are individual swan children of vastly different ages.

Male seahorse shifters can give birth to offspring in true form, and also in hybrid form, but not in human form. The biology just doesn’t carry all the way through.

And some fae literally kind of just appear. Like, the Nightingale. Or Augus and Ash. Or the Nain Rouge. There are a lot of fae that were never ‘birthed’ in a traditional sense. They never grew in another living being’s body and they have no familiarity to that process. And there would be others who can only be birthed by following a sacred ritual, like, ‘I harvest the first juniper to show berries in the season and put those berries in a clay vase with clay gathered from the black shores of X and then I wait exactly 1,546 days and then on the eleventh hour of the etc. etc. etc.’ and that might result in a child.

So I guess it is like, ‘depends on the species.’ And while I’d say most of the fae we’ve met have been born in more ‘traditional’ senses, there’s still plenty in the cast that haven’t been, like Ash and Augus, the Nain Rouge, Albion, Ondine etc.

#asks and answers #fae tales verse #fae tales #fae tales worldbuilding #birth and pregnancy #the fae without parents #often live alone #and struggle to understand the concept of family #but then you know #gwyn was born in a more traditional sense #and he also struggles to understand the concept of family #Anonymous

[oldearthcartography]

DMC: Consequences

The Party According to Juniper (Because I can and it’s fun). @artisticmiserys , @thepamdeathforgot , @softbutchtaako , @divineyoukai​

Juniper

Hello! I am Juniper! 

I am a champion of Forina.  I was raised in the town of Haven, It is a very nice place and my parents are the nicest people in the world.  I am really glad that the rest of the party will get to meet them soon and that I will get to see them.  I am an Earth Genasi but I spent most of my life not knowing that.  

When I left to become a hero I also hoped to learn more about myself.  I have always been a bit different than anyone around me.   I think sometimes people do not take me seriously because I am a little odd but it does not take very long for them to realise that I am actually very competent and can handle myself very well. 

Unfortunately finding my birth mother was not helpful, as she is about as different from me as you can be in a very bad way. But even if I am different I like the way I am. And if I do not fit in anywhere in particular, I will instead fit everywhere and help protect all the people, and green growing places, and animals, and towns... and all the good things.

I love my friends and I love Jaskier and I would do anything for them.  They are very good people and we are all doing very good things in the world. 

Arradeth

Arradeth is great. She is very generous, enjoys food as much as I do - she is always saving bits of it for later - and she is also very funny. I sometimes do not understand her jokes right away but I still enjoy them.

She agrees with me a lot, though she is understated in her agreement usually saying something like, “Sure, Juniper” or “Sure, whatever Juniper”.  She does not much like hugs, which is too bad because I think she needs some.  I hope that Elevialle can give her the hugs she needs.

Rae

Rae is one of the wisest, most focused women I have met.  She is favoured by Korryl herself and tasked with a mighty quest! She is very powerful and without her healing abilities we all would have been dead, many times over. She and Arradeth bicker a lot but I know it is how they express affection.  

She is the most serious one in the group and I am glad that she let me help her find a new hobby recently. I still think we should keep trying new ones together because it was a lot of fun!  She seems to be content with just the one hobby for now though.

Jaskier

Jas is the prettiest, smartest, bravest person I have ever known!  She can do so many things and she knows so much! She was the first person I had met who knew what I was! She is also very good with people and naturally gathers admirers everywhere we go.  She is fantastic.

She is very powerful and I know that she wants to protect me as much as I want to keep her safe. As long as we are together we will be able to face down almost anything!

Sometimes she gets a bit sad and distant but that is alright, I am here when she needs me and I know that after she takes the time she needs she will be back and I can snuggle up with her.

It is very lucky that we found each other and I am very glad I get to be with her. She is also an excellent teacher and has taught me many new skills.

Elevialle

Elevialle is very skilled and very smart and very pretty! She reminds me of some the Green Guard of Haven who trained me! Just like them she is very good at finding her way, and tracking, and being quiet.  These are things they tried to teach me but while I am good at most things these do not come easily to me but Elevialle is so good at them.  

But she is also not very good at talking to people, that is okay, not everyone is.

She really likes Arradeth, I am not always good at picking these things up but even I cannot miss it and it is really nice because I think the whole Laergulon thing was tough for both of them.

#personal log #DMC: Consequences #my games #Juniper #I love her so much

[insomniac-arrest]

It is too bad I am but a Cat, and you are the Sun

genre: urban fantasy, witches/familiars, original wlw

words: 7k

Summary: A cursed witch familiar falls in love with the next door neighbor gardener girl 

warning: for injury

You get up at around seven every day, I know it’s around seven because I often see you lift your head, blink at your phone a couple times and press the grey square on the screen. Sometimes you do that twice. Or three times. Or four.

You’re usually at least upright by 7:30 and threading your fingers through your hair, messing it up and contemplating the thick knots that had formed overnight.

You go to take one long shower with steam wafting up through the crack in the door. I am honestly concerned about how long your showers are, how hot they could possibly be? The steam sticks to the ceiling and amusement spreads throughout my chest.

You start to hurry around eight, you’re outside by then, always. Like there’s a timer in your head that brings you out with the sun. It’s eight and you are outside on the terrace with rows of tomato plants and snap peas and mint leafs on either side.

I’ve never seen you grow anything but herbs and vegetables, but maybe that’s because of space or preference or some bad experience with a daisy. Either way, I see you frantically preen and anguish over every leaf and clump of dry soil.

This is my favorite part of the morning, where you get out your little hose and water bottle and go from plant to plant, delicately sprinkling water overhead, smiling and touching the soft skin. I imagine it’s soft, I haven’t touched anything like that in some time.

Not like you would.

You tie your auburn hair back to tend your favorite one: the watermelon. I’ve never seen it actually flower and create the nascent bulb for the fruit, but I think you have faith. You whisper to it and pump your hand in the air, like a cheer or chant.

I think you are patient and kind, people who like plants have that look about them. Maybe it’s just my wishful thinking, but my chest tightens every time you talk to your watermelon.

You run back inside after that and grab a protein bar and thermos, filled to the brim with two earl grey tea bags. I wish you would eat more than protein bars for breakfast, you spend so much time growing vegetables after all.

You slip on the same comfortable white shoes every day and dash out your apartment like you couldn’t be bothered.

Then, then I look up back at your little garden and twitch my tail, I wish you would come back. I wish the world turned a little slower.

----------

Your sister comes every Thursday, I don’t think you like your sister, she frets. She grabs your hair and points at split ends, she opens the fridge and points out all the empty spots.

She’s older than you, she has a broad look about her, like she was carrying something on her shoulders we couldn’t see. She frowns at you and picks up pieces of paper to show you the lines, sometimes they’re just numbers.

She has one frazzled ponytail on the nape of her neck and a collection of red shirts that all look the same, and she frets.

You sometimes roll your eyes and say something she doesn’t like, you argue, sometimes you sit down in front of the TV and watch some show that makes your body rock with laughter. You like your sister, you always carefully wrap up leftover food for her and kiss her cheek before she leaves.

She likes you too, she brings you seeds and little watering cans with frogs and polka dots on them, I’ve never seen you use one more than once but you always clap your hands and squeal. I sat there for hours after the first time you beamed like that.

She kisses your forehead before she leaves.

Once she brought you watering can with a cat on it, God I hoped, just a moment, a brief painful moment, that you liked cats. It’s something I dismiss quickly, like the temptation to swerve into oncoming traffic or scream off a tall building.

-----

You have asthma, it made me fluff up all along my spine the first time. I saw you outside your own building, sprinting through the rain with your eyes wild. The wind was whipping over the city with angry fingers and howling breath, and yes, your potted plants had blown over.

You almost slip, sprinting through the downpour as you reach for the overhang on the apartment building next to yours. And then reach for a small white device, you shake it and inhale.

My eyes go wide, I wish I hadn’t seen it, I really wish I hadn’t.

You inhaled deeply and hold your chest as you wheeze in and out, I want to be down there, or a thousand miles away.

-------

You like silly TV shows that seem to make you laugh and you go to bed at ten every night, which is too bad because that’s when I am the most awake. You own a flute that you never seem to pick up and several different coats with various holes in them.

I don’t know how you get so many holes in all your coats, even the new ones, I’m not sure you know either.

You have several calendars around your apartment, you mark things down on a huge one in the corner, the one with horses on it that you drew a little stick figure on the top of during a party.

You have a smattering of freckles over softly brown skin and thick auburn hair that seems to get away from you in every way. Your nose is slightly crooked but I can’t imagine you're bothered by it. You once had friends over and spent the party with your nose taped back like a pug dog, you never stopped laughing.

I don’t know what they call you, I hope it’s something nice, I hope it’s something warm.

--------

I never thought I would meet you, I wasn’t supposed to. Technically, like any other creature after all this time, I was supposed to be dead.

Instead, I was curled up in the corner of a dusty brown room with my ears pressed back. I feel the pressure of the room change before I hear her.

A crackle sizzles through the room that ruffles my back hairs and makes my whiskers twitch. A flash comes from the corner and a figure steps out.

“Nevermore!” I turn my head languidly. A woman in a heavy dark robe and a crooked mouth stares me down. She was young, only seventeen, but her hands were gnarled and pale, like they were losing blood every moment.

She kept her chin tucked down and her yellow eyes flashed in the dark, “Tibetan juniper.”

I get up and stretch, arching my long back and feeling my tail curl up behind me, I yawn. Jules taps her staff on the floor, “if we had time to catch flies with our mouths I’d hire a net, get.” She swats at me and I turn around in circles before glancing over my shoulder, Jules was forgetting about me quickly. Turning back to the ring in the middle of the room and mumbling to herself. I turn around in a circle a disappear into the nearest shadow.

Tibetan wind soon rakes across my back and I blink into a brilliant white winter. I start walking.

You were out buying groceries, I know this because it was Sunday and you always come home with stuffed brown bags on Sunday. I think about that as I trundle through the snow banks and toward blue fruit on a shaking branch.

----------

She named me Nevermore, like the poem. Like I was just an extension of one long dead poem that you could steal the words from and feel vindicated. Like I was just her cat- and she thought I should have a silly name.

I’ve forgotten my birth, I forgot a lot of things. First colors and then thumbs and then the feel of cloth against my skin.

Jules didn’t take my voice, so that was at least something. But only a little something in a long line of nothing.

I stood by Jules side, stoically, the devil’s pet to the devil’s maid. And I forgot.

I was in the alley next to our when it happened the first time. Jules was out at work as I prowled the alleyway back and forth. The rats down here had more fight in them, but there were more of them anyway.

I hadn’t eaten that day so I was keeping my eyes wide and belly low to the ground, I hear the chitter of rodents behind the dumpster and I tread my feat lightly across the flattened boxes.

My muscles are tensing, haunches lowering, my shoulders ripple.

BANG

I jump and so do the rodents, I hear them scramble away in every which direction before I turn to check on the sound that ruined my moment. My eyes go wide when I see that it’s you, you were holding a phone to your ear and swaying back and forth as you made it into the dank alley.

I back up toward the wall with my hair fluffed up, I didn’t like the odds of this.

“No Jerry,” I hear her murmuring, “we can’t wait for the order tomorrow, Ms. Jenny wants it today. I know, I know, but you have to find a way around it, she’ll have my ass... Please?” I could have rolled my eyes, just threaten him.

She walks down my way and I see her short pink dress with the satin sheen and pearls around her throat, I don’t know what kind of party this could be. It didn’t matter, I turn around in a circle, readying myself to jump again.

My heart was already pulsing painfully from being this close, no one could know. What would Jules do?

I take the first step and then I hear a sniff.

“Oh God,” I turn around, there you are. Pushing your thick hair back and dabbing at the corner of your eye, you had hung up and were now hunched over in the alley.

You dial a number and I see your fingers shake as you lift the speaker up, “hey Camy, hope the twins are doing good. I just… yeah. Sorry, I know you hate that.” Your voice wavers and there is that painful pulse in my chest again. “I’m just, so stressed right now. The deal is almost falling through and miss Jenny is… yeah. Just, call me back.” I take a step forward, I don’t know what I’m looking for but I see you. All of you, tall and sleek and not through a window pane. You stand with your back to me and I want something that tastes orange and secret inside of me.

You hang up slowly and turn around without thinking, I freeze slightly. “Oh.” She breathes and blinks a couple times. I should shadow jump, right then and there, I should leave.

She puts her hand out, “what are you doing out here, kitty?” She looks both ways and I lay my ears down flat. “It’s going to rain, you should get home.” Her hand looks soft as it reaches for me, why was she so naive? I take a step back but we are inches apart. She is still reaching out, she cocks her head to the side, “do you have a home around here? You’re awfully pretty.” I should have disguised myself as a ratty stray, it didn’t matter, she was staring at me. I unwind slowly and glance back and forth.

I flick my tail, once, twice, an energy floods through me and I meet eyes with her, luck. I try to push the charm through my veins, luck.

I was a little rusty at spells by myself, Jules needed me more as a vessel or conduit than a spellcaster myself, but I still had it in me. I’m sorry.

I think the word as I push the fizzling, spitting energy through my skin and your hand touches behind my ear, “you’re a nice kitty, aren’t you?” Your brow folds in, “have I seen you around before?” Your hand strokes my head and I indulge, I nuzzle my head down into your palm and you laugh. “You’re sweet.” The charm courses from me into her, luck. It was the least I could give to you.

You laugh again and pets my long body until my hairs are flat, “you know what you’re doing.” She scratches my chin for a long moment before sighing, “I should get back in.”

Your phone begins to ring and I have a feeling the deal is about to go through. “Well,” she turns away but I’m already turning around in a circle, “Kitty, I think-”

I am whisked away back into the depth of my own shrouded home and the red red circle in the middle of the floor, the blood Jules was gathering was still drying. I run to the corner and try to look at the window to see you return that night.

------------

I crossed the Patch family when I was only nineteen, by now I was much older than that and yet not old enough at all. I was only nineteen and I wanted to take down the most prestigious witch family in town.

I thought they were twisted, too powerful for their own good and hoarding all the artifacts for themselves. I was young and arrogant, though I did further than anyone thought I would.

Then I fell into one of their transfiguration circles, it was over as quick as it started. I forgot the feeling of clothing against skin, what colors looked like, how sugar tasted. I remembered my dark jet black whiskered face more than my human one.

I served Georgia Patch first, then Alyssa, and now the youngest Patch, Jules.

Jules didn’t talk to her aging mother now but I figure one day I would serve her daughter too. Jules was curious in the way youngest daughters usually are, how they sometimes try to prove themselves to something wasn’t there.

Her hands were turning more clawed by the day, I felt the rush of sickly green magic surge through the loft daily, the smell of blood filled the small room and I saw the bags under her eyes turn into dark pools.

“Revive them,” she was muttering, stirring, sprinkling things in with one stiff handful after the next. “Revive.” She went back to muttering tongues as I placed my head down. Most people had some percent of witch left in them (I’m 2%! Well, I’m descended from the Wicker family, my mom side had a great great grandma, so on). But Jules wanted something more, forgotten magic, words that no one remembered any more, lost, stolen.

Rooms that smelled like blood and mold, I would have rolled my eyes if I could still do that. I yawn and watch her sprinkle something mossy down into a brew.

“Nevermore,” she grunts at me, “go make yourself useful if you’re just going to lounge there.” Jules curls her lips and I can see her pointy sharpened teeth again, it sends a pang of annoyance through my system.

I knead the pillow under me languidly before standing up. Jules eyes me, “I don’t need you distracting me,” she waves her hands in the air, “get.” I take a step back and turn into the nearest shadow, away from the bubbling cauldron and her fruitless journey to nowhere.

I’m on the street in a heartbeat, I shiver in the chilly breeze as the day edges into night. At the time, I thought it would be a regular evening, I run down Pearl street and make it to Broadway.

I think about trapping a pigeon in a magic circle to eat later, but I start to see people come out of houses with colorful wings and a mask with cartoonishly large eyes. I step backward, kids were yelling and running around with soft bags and pillowcases.

Their cries make my ears sit flat on my head and I turn around to go find my way home. I didn’t need all these people stepping on me or running over my tail. I start darting home, I wasn’t looking where I was going. It was thoughtless, maybe that’s what got me.

The invisible walls went up before I saw the white lettering on the ground, the glowing words, the witches circle on the sidewalk. I rush over the lines and into a hard surface.

“Rawr!” I yowl as I run into the see-through barrier and hear a cry of laughter.

“Did you get one? Damn dude,” I hear chatter and footsteps coming up behind me, I whip around with a slight snarl.

“She’s so big!”

“Rrrr!” I rumble at my enemies as I look up at them.

“Get the stick dude, the stick.” I fluff up as I take in a group of five eleven-year olds looking down at me. They all had masks on and dark clothes, one was holding a piece of cheap enchanted chalk, I bare my teeth, I didn’t like this.

“I can’t believe that worked,” the bigger one said with a smile, I couldn’t believe it either.

“Is she a real familiar?” The other one took a crooked stick and poked into the circle, I jump back from the prod.

“It got caught in the circle, didn’t it?” One of them replies back factually.

I hiss gently as they approach, snapping my tail back and forth dangerously, one of them holds a bottle up, “what happens when we spray her with this ya think?” I could see his white teeth spread out with glowing brilliance, he was holding a squirt bottle and a black poker stick. I hiss again.

The holy water comes down on my head in a stinging cloud, I run around in circles to avoid it but it hits the tips of my ears and shoulders anyway. I recoil from the harsh touch and scrunch my face up in a growl.

I hear a chorus of laughter, “she’s freaking the fuck out!”

They spritz another time and this time I jump backward, clawing at the air and ducking away from the spray.

“Make her stay still!” One of them calls, “I want to see if she catches fire from this stuff.” They do another couple clouds of holy water and I yowl loudly.

“Get her foot!”

“Stick her down.”

I dart away from the black fire poker stick stabbed at my foot, I dart left and then right. I dance around the persistent strikes until I feel a sharp smokey pain shoot through my right foot.

The biggest boy hoots, “Got her!”

“Rrrorw!” I yell, my heart racing and fear spiking through my system. Of all things, this is not how I wanted to go.

“Hey!” I feel myself freeze, so did the boys. “What the hell are you kids doing?” “Shit,” one of them pulled his mask down further. I decided right then that I hated Halloween.

“You heard me, what do you have there?” “Roooorow!” I make a loud call for someone, anyone though I already recognized the voice. Some part of me was in denial, you wouldn’t, we couldn’t. But I was right in front of your apartment.

“Is that a cat?” I hear clicking hurried footsteps, “what are you monsters-” “Hit it!” The kids throw their hands up, dropping the chalk and scattering in opposite directions.

“Oh my God,” your eyes are large, brown as sturdy oak trees and a whole entire field waiting to burst into wildflowers. I quickly go to lick my bleeding paw and hopefully duck away into the night, but your soft hand is reaching down. “What have they done to you, kitty?”

Your eyes are so tender, soft like pillows and satin sheets. I let you gently stroke my head, you click your tongue and scowl. “Nasty brutes.” You delicately hold my gaze and reach out, taking my foot in hand, I try and flinch away. “It’s alright now.” I know, I think back. I know.

“Hurting cats on halloween, what ingrates.” She takes something from her pocket. “Do you need a vet kitty?” She asks as she dabs at the shallow wound on my foot, soaking up the little bit of blood there.

I don’t say anything, I don’t know what I would say. You are kind in the way that people who love springtime and gift baskets are kind, I already knew that.

My heart is in my throat and you take out water and pour it over the little cut before patting it dry, inspecting it, holding my paw up. At some point I imagine it’s like holding hands, but that was sillier than the whole of anything else.

I look up at you, you smile down. “You’re that cat I saw before, the good luck one.” She presses her face down. “Don’t you have a home?” I twist slightly and she rubs her across my back, “poor thing.” I knew I’d have to leave, Jules was only happy with me being gone so long. “Kitty,” she croons and I can’t help but step forward and press myself up against her ankle. She laughs, “you’re a friendly thing.” She tries to pet me again, “I’ll make sure those boys are reported, why don’t you let me-” I go running down the street, no shadow step, nothing. My heart was still jack-hammering in my chest, I couldn’t do, I couldn’t keep indulging.

I run until I make it home and let you sit on the street with just the memory of a hurt stray cat.

-----------

I watch you the next day, carefully, hesitantly. You get up around seven, you take a terribly long shower. You tend your numerous plants on the terrace.

“What are you looking at this time Nevermore?” I turn to Jules slowly, she was looking out across the cityscape too, but in a bored monotone. Her face was more chalky than usual, her expression fixed and heavy. She had failed again last night to summon The Forgotten Words, or do much of anything it seemed.

She hums, “do you think it will take something more?” She mutters, her hand rakes across my fur, her nails digging into my back. “What do you think?” She glances at me, her eyebrow raising, “Would you like to sacrifice yourself for the greater Patch family?” I give her a blank look, my eyes focusing on her with intent, her mouth twitches up after a long moment. She laughs and turns away, “like you could offer anything.” She shakes her head and goes lumbering off back to her open book, “parsley, monkey brains, spoiled milk…” I keep my eyes outside and you get off to work around nine.

--

It happened again the night before the full moon, Jules was getting more ideas. I know this by the fact her heavy footsteps were thumping down the hallway in ones and twos, she was in a hurry and the mumbling was increasing.

“Parsley, spoiled milk, seeds, why didn’t I think of seeds?” She bursts through the door and addresses me sharply, “Nevermore!”

I look up gradually and she points at me, “do you see the woman across the way?” Oh no.

I don’t make a move, keeping myself perfectly still, Jules wasn’t looking at me. “She has a mark.” Jules points to her thinning wrist, “a gold star on her wrist.” Oh fuck.

A gold star, a luck charm, if I could speak I would quickly tell her that the neighbor must just have some witch in her or a relative’s small charm.

“That’s it,” Jules perches by the window, “we’ve been getting our plants from all these common fools,” she taps on the glass, “we need a witches garden.” I relax slightly, head bowing down and looking away, “I can felt the fortuna charm from here.” Jules mouth spreads out into a sharp wide smile, she tugs on my tail. “Go get the tomatoes and mint from her garden.” I sigh internally, I brought this on myself.

-----

I started stealing regularly from the neighbors garden.

It didn’t feel good, I knew how hard she worked on each plumy leaf, spending Saturdays digging through fertilizer and turning dirt over and over. My stomach turned each time, but something else in me swelled.

This is where she stood, this is where she tredded, where she stroked the heads of the snap peas and loved each and every green sprout. Plus, I finally got to come to her watermelon plants. I place a luck charm on them too, pushing a bright yellow light into their thin veins with a strong intent gaze. Let them grow, let Jules never know.

It was hard to wake up in the morning and see you tutt and fret over the missing sage leaves and the places where tomatoes used to be. But there wasn’t anything I could do, just get closer.

I never meant to meet you again, that night next to your apartment was enough, when you dabbed my paw and cradled my head. Your soft voice and kind words stuck with me in the endless nights of chanting words and pots bubbling over with God knows what.

Jules said she felt like she was getting closer, her hair was starting to fall out and I heard her leaving voice messages with hushed spitting whispers on her phone. I suspected it was to her mother.

It didn’t matter, I tried to spend less time in the loft and more time anywhere else. I wasn’t getting much sleep, but I always figured cat’s needed far too much sleep anyway.

It was one of those creasing cool nights in January after a long sleepless day when I met you again. I gently landed on the terrace across from us, placing my paws down as I exited the shadow of a sagebrush.

I surveyed what was left of the plants I hadn’t taken from. Jules needed more basil brewed in lambs blood, I was told to at the very least get the basil.

I walk in between the bean poles and various troughs of soil and sprouts, it was barely ever winter in Milton Southern California, but she wasn’t growing as many plants as before. My heart sinks at the thought.

I pad over to the glass door and the mini-greenhouse she created for picky plants and ones that needed moisture. The basil was right outside.

I lower my head as I approach, stepping lightly as I plan to tear off several more leaves and disappear without a sound.

“Ah-ha!” I jump and almost turn myself into a ragged image of red horns and sparking flames, scaring whatever dare challenge me. Instead, I see a cheery woman in beige. “So it’s you!”

I lower myself to the ground and narrow my eyes, it was you. Just as round-cheeked and freckly as the first time, you were beaming. Then your expression distilled into something more curious.

She cocked her head to the side, “kitty?” I turn on my heels, ready to leap away, but I feel a pair of hands wrap around my sides, fingers grasping my belly and lifting my paws off the ground. I squirm and consider flicking my tail and turning her inside out. I don’t, she lifts me to her chest and holds gently.

“Are you just hungry? Is that why you’re eating my plants,” You stroke my head, “you seemed so friendly. Maybe you are a stray afterall.” You held me close and turns toward the door. “How about a proper meal.” My heart throbs like a drumbeat playing an army down to a battlefield, I couldn’t just let myself be dragged into a home. But I could see the door approaching and my own claws retracting, I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t hurt you.

You close the door behind us and I smell spices and a fresh ink scent from the computer in the corner. She was printing something as she left the TV in front flashing. The sound was off but she had a large cup of earl grey tea and a pair of rubber gloves next to it.

You had been waiting for me.

I squirm in her arms as it all became too much, “mmmmrrr.” I growl at her softly and she places me down.

“Grumpy,” she huffs, “you really do need to eat.” Apparently I had been too kind to you the first time, you looked at me fondly and fluff my hair as I feel the thick carpet under my paws and warm air around me. Jules had kept the loft at a tepid freezing point for days now.

You jog across the room and reach high up into one of the cupboards. I follow in a little sluggish zig-zag.

I look up curiously, you are cracking open something and my ears perk up as I smell pungant tuna fish. My belly rumbles and the temptation overwhelms me, I pad over to the kitchen with my claws almost-out. I knew what was happening.

She places down the can of tuna and my heart swells a little bit and I put my head down to sniff the dish before starting to lap up the little fish.

“There you go,” she says lowly, “I can’t believe you’re the one terrorizing my garden.” She shakes her head, scratching me behind the ear as I eat. I rumble in the back of my throat, but not in a bad way.

“You’re a sweet girl, aren’t you?” She opens another tuna can for me and I always knew you were kind, perhaps too kind.

She washes up the dishes and starts humming to herself, “what about Little Black Shadow? Or Honey. Fausta? That means lucky, you seem lucky, all those deals went through at once after I met you.” I wonder why, I think to myself and don’t react.

“Fausta or Lucky, maybe Fortuna,” she laughs out loud, “you do love tuna.” She was putting on another pot of tea as I watched her, I hope she isn’t lonely, she is talking to me right then and there. I prepare myself to circle the nearest shadow.

She’s reaching down, “you seem very clean though, do you really not have a home?”  I stare at her blankly and she breaks into a smile and draws me closer, “my sister says I can’t have cats, that it will make my asthma worse somehow.” She snorts and tries to pick me up, I resist, but only a little.

She bundles me up and hugs me to her as we walk over to her couch. I can’t help it, I let her sit down with me on your lap and turn the volume on the TV up. I curl up, covering my feet with my tail and looking up at her.

She pets me and bends her head down.

“You can wait with me,” she whispers, “everyone else is with my mother right now, I couldn’t make it.” She sighs, “she should be okay. She should.” She turns up the volume again and I assume she’s waiting, and not just for me. I let you pet me, cooing sometimes and pressing your nose into my fur.

I don’t mind, I don’t mind a lot of things as I sit safe and dry in your arms. I knew what was happening.

I find the rumbling spreading my chest to my whole body, I purr as we both start to drift off on your wide couch, a movie called the Goonies plays in front of us on repeat.

I wish a wish so harsh and large that feels like it might rip me apart or lift me into the next hemisphere. It clings to my heart like a hangnail and I curl up tighter in your lap.

I push more luck from my small pool of magic into you, let your business thrive, let your mother recover. Let the world shine for you.

----------

I woke up in the morning with a full belly and warm ears, I had a sweet dream about my childhood, I was holding the string for the morning wash and dancing around with it in circles. I wanted to be a dancer at that point, and a hero, and everything else in between.

I blink open my cat eyes, away from the colors of the dream and back to your arms around my body and muted tones of the real world.

“There you are,” you were wiping at your eyes, “I didn’t want to wake you.” She hadn’t moved since dawn appeared it seemed like.

My internal clock tells me it’s around seven thirty, I give myself another minute of her warmth before I hop off delicately, she laughs.

“No more eating my plants little lady,” she tisks and straightens up with a crack from her back. “Or else I’ll have to feed you and cuddle you each night then.” God yes.

I turn around.

“Say,” she was still nudging me, poking at me with her foot as  I stood on the ground. “How would you feel about staying somewhere dry and safe each night? If it’s a yes just s-” Nevermore, I flinch as a voice splits through my head, get back here.

I hear nothing after that, you are picking up the phone. “Yes, this is Marissa,” I give you one long forlorn look, “how is she doing?” Pause, “that’s great!”

That fills me with something indescribable, I turn into the nearest shadow and disappear into the dank, rancid loft across the street from her.

Jules bares her sharpened teeth when I return, “I saw you.” She narrows her eyes and I consider hissing at her. She just starts muttering to herself and shaking her head, “stupid cat.” For once I agree with her.

-----

It happened one midnight, spring was starting with a tentative little foot in the door and I was tired. You had gone away to your families for christmas and I almost felt empty with that. Jules was gnashing her teeth and hadn’t left her single room loft in weeks. She hadn’t showered in weeks either, even if I mildly tried to hint at her she should.

I gave up rather easily, I was the Patch’s involuntary servant, not their nanny.

Jules was murmuring, I was looking out the window. The spring was coming, you were outside, digging and replanting large pots, there was soil smudged across your nose and I want the world.

Your mom had made a full recovery from her heart attack and you had been planting more and more since then.

“That’s where you’ve been, isn’t it?” I don’t make a move as Jules address me, coming up from behind and hovering. I turn a bored look in her direction, she rakes a hand down my side as if to pet me.

I try to convey that there wasn’t anything she could technically do to me, I could disappear at any moment I wanted to.

She glances at me instead, her lips spreading open, “good job Nevermore.” I want to groan at my own name, but her praise gets my attention.

She was staring out the window with crescent moon eyes, my blood runs cold. “Something is different.” She mutters hoarsely, “I can see it all over her. Gold, shining, that star on her wrist.” She gives a wild smile. “Lucky blood. It will be perfect for the circle.” My eyes go wide, I want to scream it, I want to choke her. No.

“Rrrrrrrrrrawr,” I growl and lift myself onto my feet, raising my haunches dangerously. She just frowns at me, “RRROW!” I growl again and send a wave of hot, burning magic in her direction.

“Shut up Nevermore,” she lifts her finger and I go flying across the room, “finally. Finally. I will bring back the words to humanity. They’ll sing my praise from coast to coast. Fortune really will be with us,” her eyes glow yellow, “thank you.”

I shake, I knew I did this to you, I did this. “Magic is stronger with love, isn’t it Nevermore?” She snorts, “white magic at least.”

I could tell she wasn’t impressed by White Powers. And then she was gone.

----

My paws were stuck to the floorboards, magically glued there by my mistress. I don’t know why she would do this, but my stomach had dropped and I felt sick. I had spent the last ten minutes calling at the top of my lungs, singing to the high heavens for someone to do something.

Nothing, nothing happened.

I had to do something, fear courses through me like fiery jet fuel, it stings and every nerve in my body is on fire. I try again, surging power through my paws, white magic that burned the bottom of my feet.

I send another shimmer of yellow light, luck, that pulsed and cut deep as I rip my feet off the floorboards. It stings but I resist the sticking magic keeping me there.

I tear out of the corner of the room with my entire form shaking, time, time, time was not with me. I’m counting down minutes as I sprint to the nearest shadow.

I careen into it and plant my feet as I feel cool tiles slide against my pads, “rrow!”

I scream and see the precinct turn their heads to me, I flick my tail and send the nearest pile of papers careening to the floor with a wave of power. “Mrrrow!” I try again.

“A witch!” Someone next me yells and I see people reaching for their guns.

I lay my ears down and bare my teeth, trying to convey something I couldn’t say.

“Step aside, step aside,” I see a woman in a long dark blue robe standing in front of me, she’s stoic and tall with glassy sharp eyes, the police station warlock. She had a giant bird of prey on her shoulder.

I call out to the falcon and the bird flaps its enormous wings, I try to articulate something to it in harsh whispers, an ancient tongue that I felt like I was just discovering.

The warlock turns her head slightly to listen and I don’t have time for this. I flick my tail again and send more papers flying, I turn toward the door, trying to get them to follow, to listen.

The warlock turns her head slowly, time is everywhere. She lifts her hand, “follow that familiar.”

I shoot out of the building with my nose pointed toward the smell of them, time, time, time. I could see the knife in Jules Patch’s hand. I could see the circle she was drawing.

The police officer’s feet pound after me, “slow down!”

“Is she allowed to do this?” “Someone is in trouble,” the warlock was catching up and I can only point toward the apartment.

I’m not sure how long it takes to get there, it feels like forever, but I know it wasn’t over yet. “Mrrrr!” I take the steps two at a time, I could feel my lungs throb in my chest, limbs starting to howl and breathe coming in sharp hurried bursts, I sprint.

“The MUS is off the charts! It’s picking up major black magic.” “Get your taser out,” The warlock picked up her staff and sent a ball of white light careening through the air, I watch it pass me with a crackle. It explodes the apartment door on front of it before sending a blinding white light into the room like a bomb. The Light Saturation clears the dark magic before the officers enter.

It was a precaution but I wanted them to be faster, I force myself through the light and to you, to your frightened shaking form. Your neck is bleeding, eyes wide and unblinking, mouth open.

You were alive, I could have collapsed on the spot, Jules was curled up on herself, retracting from the burst of blinding light that must have sucked from her dark spell.

“Pigs!” She shouts from the ground, “fucking fools.” Jules reaches for her staff next to her and I force a yellow pulse out of my paws and toward the wooden stick, it flies out of her reach.

Her caustic grating gaze falls on me, her mouth foaming, “traitor!” She shrieks, “betrayer!”

I kick the staff farther away and the police come bursting into the room next, “freeze!” Their tasers are up, hot on Jules crawling, twisting form.

“You’re holding back the future!” She shrieks, the sparks fly as the magic ball sends shocks through the witches thin body, she dances in midair like a marionette on jump rope strings.

A pang of pity, regret, courses through me as she spasms in the dank heavy air, makes me reel back for a moment, did I do the right thing? She was barely eighteen. And then I look at you. Your eyes are wide, brown as sturdy oaks and open fields before they sprout wildflowers.

“You,” you gasped at me, having most likely put two and two together. She trembles, “You’re hers.”

In some other world this isn’t it, we dabble into forgotten magic and my claws arc into fingertips. My arms stretch and fur sprouts into hair, I reach for you and hold your beautiful head as we cry about all the things that are lost.

We would embrace on the terrace the wind would blow through our hair, just as the watermelon begins to flower and all of time slows down, for just a moment.

Someone ushers me into a small dark cage.

“Edith Wentworth,” an authoritative voice reads out as they hold up a magic transcription, “you are under arrest for aiding and abiding a witch practicing black magic. You have the right to remain silent.”

They had found me, as they should. You stand up, teetering and uneasy, holding your neck and eyes unfocusing.

I go willingly into the cramped space and remember that no one knew how to reverse a complete animal transformation. You are holding back tears, the luck charm shines on your wrist vividly and firmly, I exhale. Jules was incapacitated on the floor, the blood circle was smeared and forgotten, the witches brew was simmering down.

You were whole and breathing and beautiful.

I go into the cage and watch the terrace outside as we leave, it becomes smaller and smaller as they carry me out, this isn’t the other story.

For it is too bad that I am but a cat, and you are the sun.

#witches #short stories #wlw #sapphic #lbgtq story #familiars #original story

[horseranches121]

Bozeman Ranches For Sale

Montana Tips

In 1971, Montana reclassified mountain lions as game pets as well as developed a controlled open season. This designation still stands.

" There.

are minimal states that allow mountain lion hunts, yet Montana can assert some of the very best locations for hunting these cats. Montana doesn't provide several moose tags, but they go away swiftly, and also the very same opts for the mountain goat. In truth, in 2019 a brand-new expense was presented to make Montana bighorn lamb, moose, mountain goat, and also grizzly birth become an as soon as in a lifetime harvest only. If the expense passes, it will certainly make these hunting opportunities evenmore desirable. This well-regarded Rocky Mountain state uses mule deer pursues, archery elk pursues, bear hunts, searching for antelopes on the levels, as well as amazing pursues for the age-old bighorn lamb. Combo searching licenses as well as application target dates notwithstanding a huge game search in Montana is the imagine a lifetime for numerous who hold the reasonable chase in the highest esteem as well as only desire.

to check out among our most beautiful states. Looking for a bit a lot more and even warm lunch for your hunting blind!.?. !? Follow my webpage, or on Facebook and Twitter. packing ... January 16, 2017 By Jack Ballard The journals of Meriwether Lewis, co-captain of the Lewis as well as Clark Expedition, include detailed summaries of the nationwhere they passed brand-new lands teaming with elk, deer as well as antelope. A few of Lewis.

The Story Of Montana Has Just Gone Global!

Montana Tips

' most poetic lines were booked for their surroundings in Montana where he created," As we handed down it appeared as if those scenes of visionary delight would certainly never ever have an end." This fervent praise for the landscape occurred not in the hills but on the eastern plains, along the financial institutions of the Missouri River. In addition to the sheer expanse of the landscape, the expedition was blown away with the plentiful wildlife in the location, especially those game pets that provided them with food: elk, mule as well as whitetail deer, bighorn lamb, bison, and pronghorn (antelope). Debt: Photo Courtesy Missouri River Nation The tough "breaks" along the Missouri include thick stands of ponderosa pines as well as junipers. Elk prosper in the middle of this cover. The plants and dirts of the region provide exceptional nourishment, enabling mature bulls to grow exceptionally large horns. Hunting these prize.

bulls with a rifle calls for a long-odds lottery license, but those that do attract have the possibility to take incredible animals. Archery hunting is likewise performed on a" draw-only "basis, however the probabilities are better. The due date for nonresident applications for archery and also rifle elk licenses is March 15. For even more details when and exactly how to use telephone call toll-free: 1-800-653-1319. Elk are located in various other locations, yet the majority of lie within a few miles of these prime places. As a basic regulation, elk density additionally enhances from eastern to west. For instance, less animals are located in the area around Fork Peck Dam rather than areas at the western end of the storage tank. Bountiful accessibility to public land is among the major.

destinations of elk hunting in Montana's Missouri River Country( there are more than a million acres of land open up to public searching in the Charles M. Russell National Wild animals Haven alone). Both state as well as federally handled public lands sprawl across thousands upon hundreds of acres of prime habitat. are additionally readily available throughout the area, supplying professional services to out-of-state hunters. Essentially, hunters need to be prepared to hunt at the very least a mile from lorry access, as elk normally keep a barrier of about that distance from motorized activity. Archers typically locate the most effective success in the amazing hours around daytime as well as sundown. Temperatures can be rather cozy in September and early October, providing elk inactive throughout the day, nonetheless, hunters seeking a diverse experience discover plenty to do at noontime. In addition to outstanding big-game hunting the Montana's Missouri River Country boasts robust populations of sharp-tailed and also sage complaint, as well as grey( Hungarian) partridges. Elk might be the marquee quarry psychological of numerous checking out hunters, but northeastern Montana likewise boasts outstanding opportunities for mule as well as whitetail deer. Mule deer are extensively dispersed throughout the region yet the majority of heavily concentrated in the Missouri Breaks and also adjacent grassy field habitat. The deep, bent coulees of the breaks supply superb cover, permitting some bucks.

to attain trophy condition. Mule deer can also be located on more open savanna and agricultural locations, particularly in position offering patches of bed linen cover. Credit Scores: Picture Politeness Missouri River Nation With such a variety in habitat and also simple accessibility to abundant public land, a mule deer quest can be as difficult as you intend to make it.

[etceciitangelus]

Profile

Name: Aleksandr Miles Meaning: Warrior, Gracious. Sex: Male Gender: Male Class: Support Age: 20 Sexuality: Asexual, Panromantic. Birth date/Date created: July 19th Place of Birth: Dublin - Ireland Place of Residence: Waterford - Ireland Occupation: Medical Student Faceclaim: Grant Gustin

Height: 6ft 0″ Weight: 132 pounds {9.5 Stone} Eye Colour: Juniper Green Tongue: Gaelic, English.

Family:

Father: Matthew Miles (Deceased)

Mother: Maryse Miles (Deceased)

Grandfather: George Miles (Guardian)

Adoptive Mother: Niamh Miles (Guardian)

Statistics:

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆  — physical strength. ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆  — offense ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★  ☆ ☆ ☆  — defence ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ — speed ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★  ☆ ☆  —  intelligence ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆  — accuracy ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆  — agility ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆  — stamina ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★   — teamwork ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆  — stealth

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ — bladed weapons ( swords, daggers ) ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆   — blunt weapons ( maces, clubs )   ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆  — ranged weapons ( archery, guns ) ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆   — shields   ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆  — polearms, spears & staves ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆  — traps   ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆  — poisons ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★  — medic ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆  — magic

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆  — battlefield command ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆  — naval ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆  — strategy  

Fighting style?   ( Bold - Applied )   Commander / Duelist / Honourable / Dishonourable / Would have others do their fighting /Stealthy / Long-ranged / Melee / Has fought in a tourney / Barbaric / A lover of fighting / A hater of fighting / Cowardly / Reckless  / Uses underhanded tricks / Unconventional weaponry / Renowned for their skill / Trained / Untrained / Keeps skills a secret / Won a battle / Lost a Battle / Ruthless / Merciful (depending on the situation.)

ISFJ

You have moderate preference of Introversion over Extraversion (55%)

You have slight preference of Sensing over Intuition (7%)

You have moderate preference of Feeling over Thinking (23%)

You have slight preference of Perceiving over Judging (11%)

Past:

Raised in a small country valley in Waterford, Aleksandr was not quite used to large happens. The worst thing which could have possibly happened in his life up until 15 was failing a test which would hinder his final outlooks for college. But alongside being brought up in such a small country lane, it was rather difficult for him to socialise with those who he related with - all of those he went to school with seemed to be fitting in with social normalities and skipping class, fighting one another and raiding local parks. In the far back, the boy was there, dying his hair soft pastel colours, studying for the next test and looking up and saving for his university plans. 

During his childhood, The boy was never quite as close with his father as he could have been. Often returning back from afterschool study sessions to a drunken mess of a parent and a wrecked house, a mass of peculiar scents and fumes and smashed glass decorating spoiled carpets.  Time was often spent trying to calm down his mother who slowly had become overworked and ill, the mind never wanting to think about what the woman would have had to go through alone when he was away for long durations of time. However, though the house could have been hectic, there was still an odd bond between the three.

At 15, closing to his birthday, a call had been sent to his school during studies to state the child would have to be taken to the hospital immediately due to a rather tragic car crash which hastily had left the boy sadly an orphan after the request to go to the hospital. Being the only family members he had known of, Aleksandr was forced to move in with his grandparents, such being the only option, besides becoming an orphan for only 3 years, which would allow him to continue in following his dreams in becoming a doctor.

Months later once his mind has began to settle, a strong family bond had grown over the grieving three of nephew and grandparents - all having lost those dearest to them.  Living so close to then the ocean, water had become a sight for sore eyes as well as that which could calm him down. Many fishing trips were taken with both grandfather and nephew - and though the younger was awful at the talent, he still joined for the pleasant company and surroundings. 

(Overwatch Aspect) Years passed and university was a success upon outstanding grades were earned during college. There was a small group of outcast like friends the Irish had gained, a wide variety of people finally which he could witness first had rather than cliche tv programs and movies.  But amongst the many posters which often promoted new classes and late night clubs, the random set which often were hung-up by anarchist students put Overwatch on display, the sights of the solider 76, advertisement of Mercy and an overly inspiration request which fell along the lines of “we need you!”

It was impossible to notice them, after awhile. They were there every corner, but of course, Aleksandr knew he could now have joined for just being a medical student, a nobody which had no special talent, poor social skills. A teenager which still played D&D every Wednesday night in the back of the closed library. 

Many nights were spent comprehending what those posters influences, the emotions they had brought out and the kind which could in fact made a difference. Endless tabs opened on his browser in studying the agents of Overwatch, their upbringing and talents, their lives and pasts.  Feet often dangled over the lock dock which bared an ocean to god knows where, the mind endlessly displayed imaginative images of what the pastel goth would look like in a uniform, what they could do to aid the world, would he have liked that position? would he have enjoyed the possible fame? would he be famous or infamous? he was 19 with still bleached hair, pastel pink tips from when he had been too lazy to redye it.  And the mind continued. Until it snapped back.  And he was not on the wooden pier which was a safehaven from the brisk cold waves. People shouted for him, worried humans which were horrified for his well being. But he was.. alright? lungs felt filled with water but he was... fine.  Wide eyes swayed arms over the rough surface, body seemed to be pushed and jolted endlessly, sirens from a called ambulance in the background, back meeting wooden pillars.  but he was okay. He felt.. oddly at peace.  Fingers wiggled over chilled salty water and the mind swore it was not loosing its sanity as it seemed such.. began to obey to his mercy.

There was no way to tell, there was no testing such a power again as blackness overtook the boy, head once again hitting against the eroding pillars. But some part of him told the them to sign up. Whether they were merely just a background assistant or a full fledged member did not bother him so. It seemed as though a real life quest had come to life.. Like everything he had played for in D&D appeared before his very eyes.

#{Aleksandr Miles}

[nancypullen]

Name Game

Nancy, Nancy, bo-bancy Banana-fana fo-fancy Fee-fi-mo-mancy Nancy! Now do yours.  Just kidding, I’m not really here to talk about that old song, as fun as that might be.  Does anyone even remember it anymore?  I’m a relic. I’m actually here to talk about some of the wonderful baby names I’ve seen lately.  I love, love, love that young parents are revisiting old names and dressing them up a bit.  My kids are of an age where many of their friends are starting or adding to their families and I get to see the birth announcements and registries. It’s so much fun.  In the last three months I have learned of three baby girls who have been given the most delicious names. On June 29th the arrival of a a 7 lb 15 oz bundle of joy was celebrated and she was given the name June Magnolia.  Could it be more perfect? I didn’t ask for permission to use last names, so I won’t - but does it really matter when you have a name as sweet as June Magnolia? Not long after that lovely event, another little girl was born and gifted with the name Norah Juniper.  I just couldn’t love it more.   I should add that both of these babies were born in the south so the odds are good that they’ll be called by both their first and middle names.  Crossing my fingers. Last but certainly not least, last night I learned of the imminent arrival of a little girl who will carry the name Elaina Jubilee.  Oh. My. Gosh.   I’m over the moon about that middle name!   I think these little ladies are destined for greatness. They all sound like they’d be important characters in a Harper Lee novel.  I’m a fan. I wish I could have do-overs.  When I was pregnant in the 80′s ultrasounds looked like lunar maps. There was no determining gender, it was pretty much just making sure the baby had a head and some limbs.  Cutting edge technology at the time, but not the precious 3D in utero portraits moms get now.  I had a boy and girl name at the ready both times.  When we had boy #1, the standby name had been Kelsey Elizabeth.  It wasn’t a name that I was passionate about, but it was one we could both agree on.  Just an ordinary name.  I’d played around with Olivia, Camille, and even Blythe but they all got a thumbs down from the mister. We ended up with our Matthew Flynn and he was perfect. The second time around I had a boy name I loved, but we waffled on the middle name.  I wanted Michael (that way each boy would have one name from their father) but the mister said he didn’t like it.  As an older, wiser woman I’d like to see a law stating that the person who carries and delivers the child, the one whose body changes forever, gets naming rights.  #guilttrip So instead of Michael I chose a family name from my side.  I figured that Flynn was from the fraternal line, so I’d use Christian from the maternal.  We welcomed our Tyler Christian and he was exactly what I wanted and what our family needed.  Had he been a girl, I’d settled on Molly Elizabeth or Molly Catherine (for my sister, though hers is spelled Cathryn)- but had also put the names Tabitha, Amelia (for my great grandmother),  and Juliana on my list, all met with disapproval from Mickey.   I was also going through a phase of loving names like Samantha (Sam) and Francesca (Frankie).  It’s probably best that I was a mother of boys as I never landed on the perfect girl name. We gave our sons good, solid names - names that would be fitting for an Olympic ski jumper as well as a supreme court justice.  I mean, some names tend to pigeonhole a person.  Have you ever met a minister named Blaze or a CEO named Treasure?  I’m thrilled to see a resurgence of Hazel, Opal, Violet, and Josephine, especially when they’re paired with sweet middle names. Remember Laura Ingalls Wilder? One of her younger sisters was named Caroline Celestia and as a child I thought that was beyond beautiful. The other was Grace Pearl which didn’t quite have the same magic. So that’s what I’m thinking about on a rainy Wednesday afternoon. Names, what they mean, who carries them, and the gift of a beautiful one.  I’m decades past my maternity years and I’ve been told I’m getting just the one, perfect grandchild...guess that means that I need a flock of chickens to name, or maybe a herd of goats.  You can bet there’d be a Jubilee in the mix.