#& my house of stone ; your ivy grows • ageless

[lcfthaunted]

instead of writing i made another place for mazie.

[the-fiction-witch]

The Witch Of The Woods

REAL LIFE COUPLE TBS X READER RATING: SWEET

I stood with fear washing over me over and over again like waves onto the dusty sands, constantly I felt this fear moving in me my stomach felt like I had trapped within it a thousand butterflies, my legs as if made of jelly the sun still high in the sky and yet these woods had a darkness that loomed though them. I stepped over the threshold walking through the carpet of red and brown leaves crunching with each step underfoot, the canopy of thick tree branches and leaves at times concealed the sun, letting in only the occasional flicker of beautiful light, the scents of tree sap, flower pollen, grass and yet this strange alluring smell in the air that seemed to drive you ever closer to the centre of this maze of trees and rivers. the tricking sounds of the little river that goes through these woods, often with little streams passing across the woods in odd little ways almost to block your ways. after a good while of walking came across a sight to behold, the main little river flowing through the woods, with a little wooden bridge over it, on the other side of the bridge is a little cottage with smoke coming from the chimney, a garden of herbs, veg, and little tree's, ivy growing up the little cottages' walls,  a few bat boxes high in the rafters of the little cottage, a little waterwheel on the side of the house that turned the river it sat beside. I held my breath walking over the little bridge and onto the garden stones my steps enough to frighten me. I walked to the door and saw the little black rose and thrown door knocker so I took it in my hand and tapped twice. I tried to keep my breath steady not wanting to reveal my fear. The door opened and I was taken back my hands shaking as I saw her there.

This woman in the doorway wore black thigh high heeled boots with ribbon laces up the front, black twisted fishnets, black petticoats, a long dark purple dress, a black corset tightly tied above her dress with black ribbons the same as her boots, a black apron wrapped around her waist with spiderweb lace and a bat-shaped front pocket, the dress had tight purple leaves that went to her elbows with the black lace that matched the apron spurting out the ends, a rim of the same lace around the square top of her dress exposing her skin, she had an impressive necklace of metal thorns and rosebuds sitting flush against her skin, a large impressive gothic sone on a ring on her ring finger, her long freshly curled hair sat on her shoulders bouncing as she took slow breaths a purple and black bow tied in her hair sitting on the top of her head, she had gentle purple eyeshadow and a sharp black liner enough to cut your hand, a slight purple sparkle to her cheeks and nose, a dark triple lipstick across her lips that matched her dress and bow perfectly.

"Yes?" she asks wiping her hands on her apron

"I'm sorry I-" I stuttered "Dear witch of the woods, I have heard stories of your dark and powerful magic, as well as your unfavourable beauty please I beg of you I need a spell to help my family" I begged her taking her hand giving it a kiss and moving to my knees

"Witch of the- ohh for god" she sighed "Why does this keep happening?" she sighed "I am not the witch," she says taking her hand away and wiping where I kissed her on her apron

"Your not? but... I was told to find the witch. who lives in the woods?"

"You are looking for my husband," she says "Thomas!" she calls

and from the side of the house where some apple tree's sat emerged a tall, lanky man, with bright golden hair, dark brown eyes, an ageless face, dressed in some old blue pants and a white textured button-down with red suspenders holding his pants up,

"Hello darling" He smiles giving her a kiss

"You have a customer" she smiles heading inside the little house

"Ohh hello," He greeted me, "come along to my spell shed, she doesn't like me doing spells inside." he encouraged leading me around the back of the garden where a small apothecary style shed sat

"You're the witch? I uhh I thought"

"Yeah it's okay she gets it a lot"

"so your the immeasurably beautiful, immortal, all-powerful witch who lives in the woods?"

"aww thank you,"

"What does that make her then?" I asked

"Careful now Thomas" she warned having come out to put some laundry on a line

"My adorable goth wife" he smiled blowing her a kiss "Love ya"

"love you too" she giggled

"Now spells?" he says

[lcfthaunted]

@criticalfai1ure sent : johnny follows her out of the bar, half a mind still caught up in the argument he'd abruptly walked out on — the lunger shoutin’ to high heaven as the door swung closed behind him. “this … hurts you,”  he hazards, falling into step. “i didn’t expect he’d have that sorta power, this far removed.” it isn’t an apology but an admission to a failing he hadn’t anticipated. he isn’t certain he’ll be able to offer a sincere sorry, just yet. not so soon after coming face-to-face with doc fuckin’ holliday again, anyway.

It goes to show just how far she’s regressed since her husband turned up again that she’s surprised to find Johnny next to her. Mazie sighs, briefly presses her hand to his arm in silent apology. “He’s still my husband, Johnny. God forgive me, but that still means something to me.” Her lips purse, expression souring even further. “Don’t know why I thought time would change anything, though. Over a hundred years later, and I’m still playing second-fiddle in my own— God-forsaken marriage.” Leave it to John Henry to bring her this close to swearing. It’s hard not to think of everything she’d sacrificed for him, and while it had brought Johnny into her life, she’s still haunted by the road not traveled.

She sighs again, pressing her fingers over one eye. “I got errands that need running, and chores ‘round the house that need doing.” She sidles closer to him and takes his arm, fingers settling against his bicep. “Come help me? I can make us dinner, and we can think of something other than him?”

[lcfthaunted]

@criticalfai1ure • Johnny didn't request it but is getting something anyway because that's just the price of being my friend

The snowstorm rages on outside, and she’s been without power for a few hours now. No matter; she remembers life before widely available electricity, as does her companion. They manage just fine with a kettle over the fire and a blanket wrapped around them both.

Mazie sighs, settling more comfortably into Johnny’s side, her head on his shoulder and his arm around her. They’re folded together on the loveseat in front of her upstairs fireplace, watching the fire burn in the grate. She’s more contented than she can ever remember being before, certainly feeling far more wanted than her husband ever made her feel. She briefly glances down at her ring. She can’t remove it—it holds the spell keeping her ageless—but she wonders, not for the first time but considerably less idly than before, if she can move it to a different finger.

She shifts her attention back to Johnny. Now isn’t the time to experiment with her ring. She straightens, tugging the blanket over her shoulders as she readjusts. “Can I try something?” She murmurs, already anticipating his agreement. She pushes up onto her knees and straddles his lap, wrapping the blanket around him again from her new position. It’s not the first time they’ve been intimate, but it’s the first she’s initiated like this, apparent by the riotous pink splashed across her cheeks. Her knees bracketing his hips and her arms around his shoulders, there is no space left between them. Hesitant, she studies his expression for any misgivings, before her gaze falls to his lips. Another heartbeat and a half of hesitation, her eyes flicking up to meet his once more, before she kisses him, soft and slow and warm.

[lcfthaunted]

@criticalfai1ure • Doc sent : 30. A kiss to the palm of the hand

“John,” she begs in a whisper, but she knows it’s useless. Wyatt says jump, and her husband doesn’t bother asking how high. Ice eyes cut across to the sheriff, hatred burning bright. She doesn’t waste too much time on glaring at Wyatt, not when her husband is still here in front of her.

Mazie’s hand comes up to cover John Henry’s on her cheek, turning almost desperately into the touch. She never knows how long he’ll be gone when he goes on these runs with Wyatt, never knows how long she’ll be alone. She presses her lips to his palm, eyes sliding closed to hide how much this hurts. Just once, just once, she’d like to be his first choice. She’s no longer certain that marrying her had been his first choice.

But it’s always been Wyatt. Will always be Wyatt. Still, she begs. “Stay with me. Please.”

[lcfthaunted]

you leave mazie alone for fifty years and suddenly she's befriending jack the motherfucking ripper. 🙄

[lcfthaunted]

@criticalfai1ure • johnny ; inspo

Mazie gasps, startled, when the door opens, even though she had asked Johnny to come over. She wipes hastily at her cheeks, though there’s no hiding she’s been crying. When she’d asked him over, she’d wanted comfort, but between his agreement and his arrival, guilt had curdled in her stomach and left a sour taste in her mouth.

She’d called Johnny because she’s sweet on him and knew he would come, but what she wanted was her husband. She wants John Henry to show up on her doorstep with a handful of roadside flowers he picked because they reminded him of her eyes, and a sincere apology. She wants him to come in and make promises she knows from experience he won’t keep, but she likes hearing anyway. She wants him to cradle her face and kiss her, like he loves her, like he’s sorry for being away for so long, like he missed her.

And it’s cruel to Johnny for her to call him when she wants another man.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles miserably, and drops her head into her hands. “You don’t deserve this. I know too well what it is to be in your position and you… love, you deserve so much better than some- some bastard’s cast-offs.”

[lcfthaunted]

@criticalfai1ure • doc

She guides the truck through the homestead’s front gate for the first time in a quarter century. The dirt road to her house is nearly overgrown, but the truck handles just fine. She has no problem hauling her bags out of the bed, but she pauses on the porch nonetheless. She feels like an entirely different person from the one that last walked through the front door.

Almost reluctantly, she unlocks the door and props it open. The house is going to need airing out; if it needs any repairs, she’s sure John Henry can handle them. She brings her bags into the kitchen, piling them on the table. She has to turn the power back on before it’s worth loading the groceries into the refrigerator, anyway. She hadn’t noticed quite how quiet it was in the house until the hum of electricity broke it, and she idly wonders how she spent so long alone out here.

Groceries are put away, and she proceeds to prop open every window in the house. The light and fresh air chase away the mustiness of being closed up for a generation, as she uncovers the remaining furniture, tossing the drop cloths into the bed of the truck to deal with later. She hesitates as their wedding photo is revealed, fingers instinctively going to a locket she no longer wears. It’s difficult to make a decision, but ultimately, she takes the framed photograph down. It gets wrapped in a drop cloth and stored under the bed; if John Henry finds it, he can do with it what he wants. She’s not sure she can make any decisions concerning their past.

The house is dusted, the bed is made, new towels are put away in the bathroom. There’s not much by the way of comfort furniture; Mazie hadn’t designed the house to entertain. She doubted he would bother with a sofa or armchairs, anyway, not when the Earps are so close. He can spend his time with them if he’s in search of entertainment and company. Satisfied, she goes through and closes the windows again, locks the front door. She can’t get away from the house fast enough, now. There’s one more task before she can leave the homestead, though, so she pulls up in front of the Earp house and waits.

[lcfthaunted]

all you need to know about my wearp verse is fuck canon i do what i want

[lcfthaunted]

Chomping at the bit to write mazie (and allie) in the year and a half her husband is missing and she's Furious w him

[lcfthaunted]

e.mily a.ndras was a coward for not putting johnny ringo or any of the other cowboys in the show and i still think having mazie turn to johnny in doc's absence when he's in eden is the greatest idea ive had in ages

[lcfthaunted]

She doesn’t care why the townspeople step out of her way immediately. She is still too prone to tears to risk going out without her veil in place, though considerably shorter than full-length for ease of travel. It was no small feat, after all, to travel from Glenwood Springs to Purgatory as an unaccompanied woman. Safely arrived at the small town, though, she had a mission to complete. A devil to find.

“Mrs. Clootie,” she calls when she finds the sheriff’s wife.

The woman turns, almost starts when she sees Mazie. “For a moment, I thought you were one of my sister wives,” she says dryly. “What do you need?”

Mazie struggles to find her voice again, already on the brink of tears. “—Kate told me,” she manages finally. “About John Henry. Please.” Her voice cracks. “Where is my husband?”

“Oh,” Constance croons. “You’re the lady wife. Rather brave, coming here alone.” She leisurely closes the distance, close enough to see Mazie’s face through her veil. “Your pain is a balm to my own wounds. I am a mother- a mother whose children were slain for no reason. That is pain.”

“John Henry was too ill to do anything,” Maisy begs. “Why have you taken him from me?”

“I took him from Wyatt Earp, in exchange for my boys.”

Mazie lets out a harsh, angry laugh. “Wyatt never paid much mind to his collateral damage.” Her expression fractures again, and she can’t hold her tears back any longer. “Why be like him? Reunite me with my husband. Please.” She pulls her handkerchief from her sleeve, presses it to her mouth.

“He’s safe, alive and well. And will be always, as per our deal. But no matter how you beg, he will never be reunited with Wyatt Earp. He could search for centuries and never come close to finding him.” Constance steps around Mazie.

Constance is only a few steps away when Mazie says, “Wyatt can forget.”

Constance stops, turns back to Mazie.

Mazie’s only half turned toward her in return, wringing her handkerchief. “You know how men like to delude themselves. John Henry was ill. They said their goodbyes. Wyatt can just convince himself John Henry had died, and forget.”

"And what do you suggest," Constance says icily, not quite a question.

Mazie turns her head to look at Constance. “Wyatt feels responsible for me as his best friend’s widow. Extend to me the same deal you gave to my husband. I will search for him for centuries. Let me be a constant reminder to Wyatt of what he did. Of what he’s lost.”

“Or,” Constance offers, “you could leave him behind, like he left you. Consider it my consolation gift: your independence.”

Mazie shakes her head. “I can’t. I love him.” She lifts her handkerchief to wipe her eyes. “And I will never forgive Wyatt for what he took from me. For how much of him he took.”

Constance considers her for a moment, then holds out her hand. “Give me your wedding ring.”

Mazie clutches her left hand to her chest.

“I will give it right back. The spell needs metal and stone. And a drop of your blood.”

Mazie hesitantly pulls her glove off her left hand, eases the ring from her finger, and reluctantly sets it in Constance’s waiting palm. She has no intention of replacing her glove until her ring is safely back on her finger.

Constance reaches into her pocket, draws out a small penknife, and offers it to Mazie. “The tip of a finger should do.”

Mazie takes the blade, and after the briefest hesitation, slices open the tip of her index finger. Blood wells in the small wound, and she touches her finger to the ring when Constance instructs. As Constance intones quietly over the ring, Mazie puts her finger in her mouth to soothe it, then presses hard against the wound to stop the bleeding. By the time Constance offers her ring back, Mazie’s finger no longer hurts.

“As long as you wear that ring, you will be as immortal as your husband,” Constance says as Mazie takes her ring, sliding it back into place with a sigh.

She nods as she pulls her glove back into place, and with a murmured, “thank you,” she starts toward the hotel she chose for the night.

“Don’t you want to know about the curse my husband placed on the Earps?” Constance calls after her.

“What do I care what happens to the Earps?” Mazie says in response, steps never faltering.

[lcfthaunted]

“Doesn’t matter how much you want the answer to be something else,” she says irritably. “The information points to the cult. He’s been taking girls her age for years, and no one survives leaving. Either she’s still with him, or she’s been eaten by his shape-shifting wife.”

He snaps his teeth in her face. “Find another way.”

She sighs loudly, unshaken by his antics by now. “Tell me where my husband is.” She crosses her arms. “This is what the information points to. You’ve kept me here for six months. Just because you don’t like the answer, doesn’t mean there’s another one.”

“You’ll get your husband when I get my lead.”

“Then I suggest you go pay Lou a visit.”

He snarls and backhands her.

She goes down with a cry. She wipes at her mouth, unsurprised to find it come away bloody. She looks up at him, furious. “You’d best hope you’re long gone by the time I’m reunited with John Henry,” she spits, “because he will turn you into swiss cheese for that.” She stands and moves to the sink, spitting blood before filling a glass with water to rinse out her mouth.

“I’m not afraid of Doc Holliday.”

She laughs, low and cold. “Bobo. Robert. You’ve never seen him with me.” Ice eyes cut to him, and there is something there that unsettles him.

“Find my Lead. You get your husband. That’s the deal.”

“I could go get her, if you let me go. I’m sure he wouldn’t raise any eyebrows at me showing up.”

“And let you go running off on me?”

“Where would I go? Who would I turn to? I don’t have any allies in this town, let alone friends. And if you’re not lying, you’re the only one who can tell me where my husband is. Why would I leave?”

“I never pretended to understand you women folk.”

She glowers at him. “I understand what Wyatt saw in you. Now, either let me go get your lead, or leave me alone until you decide to accept the information I gave you.”

Another tense moment, and he storms from the trailer, door slamming behind him. It only takes a moment for her guard to shoot the locks again.

[lcfthaunted]

It's a small house, only meant to comfortably hold one or two people. The front porch frames the doorway and two windows; to the left is a swing bench, partially obscuring the window into the kitchen, and to the right are two chairs with a table between them framing the window into the living room. The front door opens directly into the living room, an archway to the kitchen to the left. Straight ahead is the doorway to the bedroom, and through that the door to the bathroom, on the left.

The kitchen is the brightest, warmest, most welcoming of the rooms. A second window is over the sink, with pots of herbs on the sill. A table stands in the middle, with an eclectic collection of chairs surrounding it. There is little counter space and a well-loved kettle sitting on the stove, waiting to be used. A washing machine has been added next to the refrigerator when water pipes were run to the house. She's learned to bake in much smaller batches since her exile from the Earp house, but there is still nearly always some freshly-baked good or another, remnants of her work soaking in the sink.

The bathroom shares a wall and water piping with the kitchen, a shower built around the clawfoot tub that has been there since its building. There is a small, frosted window above the tub. Her things are carefully organized on one side of the sink counter, the other open as if waiting for someone else.

There is a double bed, piled with blankets, in the bedroom. Bedside tables are on either side of the head, small lamps on each. One has a trinket dish, where her daily jewelry goes at the end of the day - her locket, earrings, any bracelets she may have worn. A jewelry box in her wardrobe holds whatever jewelry she doesn't wear, and pieces are switched out every morning when she dresses. The other table holds a white pillar candle, lit three times a year. The ornately carved wardrobe stands against the opposite wall, about two-thirds full with her dresses and shoes. The dresser stands against the far wall next to the window, half the drawers empty. On top is a carefully cultivated shrine with flower vases on either end, frequently changed out for fresh flowers. Tea lights sit in front of three framed photographs; one of a couple on their wedding day in the late 1800s, and two more of the featured groom. The tea lights have been lit multiple times. To the right of the bedroom door is a hat hook, still awaiting its use.

The living room isn't designed for entertaining. Tucked into the corner, in roughly the center of the house, is an old wood stove, meant to heat the house though once used for cooking, piping running up the wall and out to a small chimney in the roof. There is one armchair, meant for comfort, angled to face the north wall. Against the window is a roll-top desk, a laptop sitting on one side, writing implements and paper to the other. The desk also holds many, many years of correspondence with a friend helping her quest. Across the room is an old Singer sewing machine, set into its own desk. The desk and Singer share a chair, frequently found at the desk.

The entirety of the north wall is dedicated to her quest. A world map stretches across the wall, large and detailed, with flags, pins, and other markings covering it. Underneath and around it are newspaper clippings, records of stories, notes, and symbols to correspond each with a mark on the map. So far, every researched avenue has been a dead end.

[lcfthaunted]

She brightens, pleased at his acquiescence, a light flush creeping into her cheeks at his touch and his smile. There’s a beat of hesitation as she considers kissing his cheek, but maybe not now, not so soon after leaving John Henry—not when the risk of her husband seeing is still so high. She can imagine how he’d react, and she’d rather not deal with that right now. So she simply tugs Johnny along, mood lightening the further they get from the bar—and John Henry.

“Fabric store first—my order’s come in and I need to pick it up. Plus, last time I was in they had a bolt I’ve been dreaming of since, and if they still have it, I think I need to buy a few yards and make a new dress.” Her wardrobe has modernized quite a bit in the past century-plus, but there are still some old ways she keeps to; she’s still unwilling to give up her long skirts or her corset, and it’s easier for her to simply make her clothes than scour the internet for things that fit her criteria. “Then the hardware store for some supplies, and then groceries.” She tips a smile up at him. “You can help me decide what to make for dinner.”

the frown he harbors at the mention of her vows slowly gives way to something of a smirk as she settles into the crook of his arm. he knows god ain’t got a hand in anything johnny ringo touches — not when he was alive and certainly not now. but it isn't his name she's cursing, and isn’t that some kind of miracle all its own?

johnny hums along in thought. he's heard her besmirch earp's name and holliday's right alongside and he's agreed with her every single time, but there's a different kind of fire that's burning in his belly, now. she still loves the damn lunger. she’s around, still, because of him. johnny doesn’t know if he’s ever had a heart for breaking, but he decides he’s none too keen to find out.

some part of him wants to offer her a clean cut to save himself the hurt, but then she asks him to stay and he nods. doc can kill him a hundred times over ( and johnny ignores the way that thought makes his skin crawl ) but he thinks he’ll stay put a while longer. he’s never been all too good at doing the things he should — why start now?

❝ hell, when you put it like that… ❞ he trails off, not doing anything to hide his smile now as he brings his other hand up to cover hers.

[lcfthaunted]

updates:

instead of writing i made another place for mazie.