#Sweet gypsy wolf ;

[sanguinesinners]

|| (Roman has had enough love me thinks )

so give this post a like if you want Peter to prowl into your inbox and throw you a little something.

[sanguinesinners]

As smitten as Peter probably was starting to feel, the look he had given Uriah's had slowly sunk, as did his little heart. Expression had changed immediately as they had mentioned leaving.

It was no surprise to him, he had to take off whenever and wherever he could, for a means to survive the shit heads that would find out about him. Though this was different, and it kind of hit hard.

"Oh...Uh" Came his words that were afraid of leaving his lips as he quivered "I mean, I get it. You're an icon, your life is fucking travel and shit so I totally get you"

Peter reached to itch his neck, shifting in his position "Maybe I can see you? watch one of your performances? - I can totally get some money to come"

❝  just let me look at you for a little bit.  ❞ - From Peter rumancek, to anyone you desire.

{ @bloodthirsty-hero }

The giggle that leaves Uriah's lips is uncharacteristic. Giddy even as he feels those pretty blues on him. He can't remember the last time anyone had looked at him like that and it felt genuine. He didn't know how to react to any of it. All of this was new. Getting stuck in Hemlock Grove had been far from the plan and finding someone who looked at him like he was the sun and moon was even further.

"Guess you can look all you want. I- Me and the guys probably won't be here for much longer anyways ... once those parts for our tour bus finally come into the shop, I mean." It was a harsh reality, but one Uriah needed Peter to know.

[ghostcaterwaul]

Overview of My OCs

Putting this under a read more thing because it’s… pretty long even though it’s not even their full bios.

Btw, I'm aware that some of the faceclaims are problematic people, I chose those faceclaims without knowing they were problematic but that's just... How those characters permanently look in my head now so I'm really sorry if some of my faceclaim choices bother people but I'm not likely to change them.

A Chaotic Love (Working Title)

Mallory Blythe A sheltered 18-year-old with a strict religious upbringing. Jeremy’s love interest.

Jeremy Wolfe Typical damaged bad boy with a dark past from the wrong side of town. Mallory’s love interest.

Suburban Secrets (Working Title)

Lieselotte “Lottie” Moon Impulsive and arrogant teenager. “Not like other girls”.

Heloise Moon Lottie’s younger sister. Super smart. In all AP courses.

Devyn and the Roses (Working Title)

Devyn Valentyne Electro-glam punk vocalist and guitarist. Levi’s love interest.

Levi Rose Glam goth Bassist. Devyn’s love interest.

Natalie Rose Goth girl. Keyboards/synths/drum machine. Levi’s sister. Is super possessive of him.

Untitled Occult Detective Series

Elliot Alexander Non-binary punk sci-fi nerd. Saw a UFO when he was 12. Wesley’s significant other.

Wesley Williams Indie emo hipster hacker. Sees dead things. Caffeine addict. Elliot’s boyfriend.

The 100 OCs

Misty Sawyer One of the 100. Arrested for attacking her abusive father. Sweet soft fragile bean. Has Classical-Like Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. Has AUs for multiple fandoms. (Faceclaim: Katie Jane Garside [in the 90s])

Liam Thorne Misty’s best friend. One of the 100. Arrested for helping her hide after she attacked her father. The therapist friend. Has a Z Nation AU and a Stranger Things AU. (Faceclaim: Landon Liboiron)

Elijah Stone One of the 100. Arrested for vandalism. Rebellious, hyper, a bit chaotic. Has AUs for multiple fandoms. (Faceclaim: Dominic Harrison AKA Yungblud)

Nimue kom Floukru Born Storm kom Azgeda. Was too soft and precious for the Ice Nation. led to join Floukru and changed her name to Nimue as a way of running from her past. Became a healer after joining Floukru. (Faceclaim: Lily Rabe)

Z Nation OCs

Vixen Ran away as a teen before the apocalypse. Did some illegal stuff to survive like selling drugs and firearms with an abusive boyfriend. Also has done survival sex work. She was working as a stripper when the apocalypse hit. (Faceclaim: Kaya Scodelario)

Riot O’Reilly Grew up with an artist for a mom and a biker for a dad. Dad died in a motorcycle accident when they were 5 years old. was the singer in a touring DIY queerpunk band called Rotten Rainbow Warhead Dolls From Planet 420 and was playing a show when the apocalypse hit. Dyes their hair as often as they can with whatever they can find (even if it’s not exactly hair safe, has even used sharpie ink) to maintain a sense of normalcy. (Faceclaim: Bex Taylor-Klaus)

VTM PCs

Izzy Strange A Malkavian glitter punk vocalist with BPD and substance addiction.

Sybil Kross A Malkavian artist with PTSD and abandonment issues. (Faceclaim: Kimberly Freeman)

Multifandom OCs

Jet Gray Goth boy. Videographer. (Faceclaim: Kett Turton [as Clive Webb in Gypsy 83])

Olivia “Olly” Gray Jet’s younger sister. Goth girl. Plays guitar. (Faceclaim: Heather Baron-Gracie)

Leo Anderson A survivor of institutional abuse. drug dealer. Sings and plays guitar. Lives out of his car and often couch surfs. (Faceclaim: Colson Baker AKA Machine Gun Kelly [as Wes in Roadies. If you can find me a faceclaim with that exact hair and MGK's jawline, I might change this faceclaim tbh because I cannot stand MGK now. I've learned too much.])

Emily Walsh Musician. Had to play marriage counselor for her parents from a very young age. (Faceclaim: Tessa Violet [specifically with pink hair])

Other Fandom OCs

Ophelia Power Rangers in Space OC. Purple ranger. Space sorceress born on planet Xoia. Has an otherworldly feline creature from her home planet as a pet named Indigo. (Faceclaim: Sóley Sigurþórs)

Deirdre Doyle The Originals OC. Witch. Lots of trauma. (Faceclaim: Kat Dennings)

Other OCs

Adelaide St. Claire Louisiana Creole trans woman living in New Orleans. Voodoo practitioner. (I’m currently researching everything to do with Voodoo and plan on hiring a sensitivity reader for whichever work I include her in. I promise I won’t fuck it up!)

Astrid Shelley Old lonely widowed witch that lives in the woods on the edge of town. Agoraphobic. Has a familiar, a black vulture named Edgar. (Faceclaim: Anna-Varney Cantodea)

Luca Giger 400 year old vampire. Was sex trafficked at the age of 12, is now voluntarily a full-service sex worker. Was bitten at 20 years old by a client. (Faceclaim: Bartek Borowiec)

Arthur Julius “AJ” Montgomery III Dark academia OC. Artist, writer, musician, stoner. (Faceclaim: Timothee Chalamet)

Stitches the Carnie Ghoul (CW: Horror OC. Proceed with caution) Murderous people-devouring necrophiliac. Keeps some of her victims’ corpses as dolls that she has tea parties with inside her circus tent. (Faceclaim: Peggy Giggles)

Jezebel Bathory A succubus. (Faceclaim: Rose McGowan)

Gwendolyn Lightweaver An angel turned human as a punishment. (Faceclaim: Katherine Shepard AKA Sylvaine)

Ozraphaeus “Ozzy” Embershroud A demon with a pet hellhound named Mordred. (Faceclaim: Ville Valo)

Willa Meadowsong Faerie OC. Seelie court (Faceclaim: Tori Amos)

Gossamer Greywood Faerie OC. Unseelie court. (Faceclaim: Xilmordas)

Alice Hansen An artist, writer and multi-instrumentalist who struggles with undiagnosed mental illnesses and substance abuse. (Faceclaim: Holly Henry)

[zooterchet]

Twisted Metal: Black

No-Face: Allison Haimes; Hmong with Royal Lancaster, blinded by alcohol.

Raven: Christine Surka, Aramaic-Basaltic genome to inform other Romalians to defend.

Dollface: Jessica Bailey, Valentine genome of hunting the same color of blood having defected to royal service elsewhere.

Preacher: David Charlebois, Stoker genome as the Mark of the Wolf, the war waged against anti-Semites.

Bloody Mary: Jenna Williamson, Meir genome of Ottoman Seljuks at war with the refusal to readminister their childhood.

Agent Stone: Walter Kaufman, a police trooper reforming services from the inside to demand adherence to general's staff of military.

John Doe: Tim Jones, with homes in the old Arctic territories, and families already made before deployment.

Mister Grimm: Brian Warner, war medals as tattoos for claiming offense at a prior tattoo and a fight.

Billy Ray Stillwell: Andre Betmen, the Haitian artist having adopted Jewish blood, out of rebellion.

Yellowjacket: Joseph Kennedy III, the son of Ted Kennedy, the nephew of John F. Kennedy Sr. and Robert Kennedy, the cousin of John F. Kennedy Jr.

Axel: Christiano Marisco, Doubting Thomas, the living debt on others as enemies.

Black: Stacy Bundy, the cause for the tournament out of liaison's drive of activing Romalians.

Warthog: Ryan Gregson, having deduced cocktail of potion, to join the tournament based on video game play and athletic building of muscular beyond bully status.

Sweet Tooth: Having raped a contestant and forced into relationship, a framed Rabbinical.  The cause of the tournament.Calypso: The Bulger family, the hospital medical registers of Boston Union, studying the Gypsy genome for William McKinley and the lessons learned from MI-6 at the Spanish-American War; the origins of anti-Semitism, Jews being the slave owners throughout each period. 

[easyvetanswers]

Are you trying to think of a good name for your Bengal cat? Stop looking! We've made a list of 100 cute and unique names for both male and female Bengal cats. We've got you covered whether you want a name that shows their wild roots or something sweet and fun. You can always ask a cat vet for name suggestions if you are stuck. Find The Perfect Name For Your Bengal 50 Names for Male Bengal Cats: 50 Names for Female Bengal Cats: Apollo Athena Azlan Autumn Bandit Belle Blaze Cali Caesar Cassie Chase Cleo Cheetah Coco Chief Dakota Dante Daisy Diesel Diamond Duke Echo Finn Eden Gatsby Electra Gizmo Ella Hunter Ember Jagger Freya Jasper Ginger Khan Gypsy Leo Hera Loki Ivy Max Jasmine Maverick Jewel Merlin Juno Milo Kali Neo Kiara Onyx Layla Phoenix Lily Ranger Luna Rio Macy Rocco Mia Romeo Nala Roscoe Nevaeh Simba Nova Stryker Ophelia Thor Pandora Titan Pepper Tucker Phoenix Typhoon Raven Vega Remy Vinnie Ruby Winston Sable Wolf Sage Zeus Savannah Zorro Sierra Ace Skye Arlo Stella Atlas Tessa Bentley Trinity Blue Willow Brody Zoey We really hope that this list of 100 cute and unique Bengal Cat names has assisted you in selecting the ideal moniker for your pet. Take your time and make a thoughtful decision since the name you give your cat will stick with them for life. In addition to reflecting their personality, a fantastic name will make them feel loved and valued by your family. Happy naming and thanks for reading!    

[sanguinesinners]

This is accurate and real sweet @truesymphony

monsters-significant-other​:

Cuddling Your Werewolf

Hope you don’t mind fur on your clothes. Always.

Kisses will include tongue. More tongue. Did I forget tongue?

They lick you. Often.

Rubbing their face on your face. And your clothes. And your bed. They need to let the world know that you’re a bonded pair, okay? Can’t do anything unless you smell like them.

They often pick you up and hold you against their chest. You feel so safe and warm surrounded by all that muscle and fur.

Do you like being held? I hope you do because your werewolf loves to hold you. You are so small and cute to them.

When spooning, you’re probably the little spoon most of the time. But, please be the big spoon for your werewolf. They will love it. And will probably laugh at you when you sit back up and your face is covered with their fur.

Many accidental naps happen because you both get so cozy when you cuddle that you doze off.

But don’t worry, your werewolf is always there to wake you up with big, wet kisses.

@bloodthirsty-hero​

[sanguinesinners]

|| Give this post a like if you want a small prompt from - Peter Rumancek

[open-your-heart-and-your-eyes]

BIPOC PEOPLE IN THE ROCK MUSIC INDUSTRY

Post inspired by, and is an extension of this lovely post about POC emo icons by @rpf-bat. If I get anything wrong, please feel free to correct me. I’m going to try to keep the bios relatively short and sweet so I don’t write an entire essay. All my information was found from Google/Spotify search results or my pre-existing knowledge. Feel free to DM me for specific sources. Fair Use for educational purposes, no copywright infringement intended.

Acrassicauda: Iraqi metal band from Baghdad. Andy Capper and Gabi Sifre wrote Heavy Metal in Baghdad: The Story of Acrassicauda about the band’s formation and their fight to be able to play the music they love.

Booboo Stewart (Vic Lakota from The Relentless in Paradise City and American Satan, Seth Clearwater from The Twilight Saga: Eclipse, Jay from Disney’s Descendants, among many others): Blackfoot, Korean, Chinese, and Japanese.

Tom Morello (Rage Against The Machine, Audioslave, The Nightwatchman): biracial- Kenyan and white (quick side note: Morello has a bachelor’s degree in political science from Harvard, which I thought was really cool).

The HU: Mongolian metal band. They’ve worked with the likes of Jacoby Shaddix of Papa Roach (The Wolf’s Totem), Lzzy Hale of Halestorm (Song of Women), and Danny Case of From Ashes to New (Yuve Yuve Yu).

Jose “The Metal Ambassador” Mangin (radio personality/host and interviewer, Sirius XM): Mexican-American. Is often hosting on Sirius XM Octane and Liquid Metal.

Meet Me @ The Altar: Pop punk trio made up entirely of BIPOC musicians Edith Johnson (Black), Téa Campbell (Black), and Ada Juarez (Latinx). Three of their popular songs are Hit Like a Girl, Feel a Thing, and Garden.

Nandi Bushell: Zulu and white. The twelve year-old drummer has collaborated with Roman Morello, Tom Morello, Jack Black, and Greta Thunberg on Roman’s song The Children Will Rise Up! She has also played with the likes of Dave Grohl of Foo Fighters, Roger Taylor of Queen, Ringo Starr of The Beatles, and Matt Helders of The Arctic Monkeys (and likely more that I’m missing).

Joe Hahn (Linkin Park, Mr. Hahn): Korean-American. The man behind the band’s turntables and keyboard. Linkin Park’s Cure for The Itch on their album Hybrid Theory (2000) specifically highlights Hahn on the turntables within the first minute.

Ayron Jones: African-American. Jones is gaining traction in the scene. Two songs of his I’d like to note are Spinning Circles and Mercy from his 2021 album Child of the State. He has toured with the likes of Shinedown (and makes a hilarious feature in one of the band’s Tiktoks) and will tour with The Pretty Reckless and Black Stone Cherry this year.

BIPOC ICONS

Chuck Berry (The Chuck Berry Trio, Sir John’s Trio) Black. Widely successful, influential singer and guitarist known for Johnny B. Goode, You Can Never Tell, and No Particular Place To Go. Berry’s legacy is still deeply felt in his contemporaries today.

Prince (Prince and The Revolution, “The Artist Formerly Known as Prince,” 3rdeyegirl, Madhouse, 94 East, The Family) Black. Groundbreaking, inventive, and androgynous artist known for hits like When Doves Cry and Purple Rain. Prince has also written songs for others like Sinead O’Connor (Nothing Compares 2 U) and The Bangles (Manic Monday).

Jimi Hendrix (The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Band of Gypsys, Kings of Rhythm, Jimmy James and The Blue Frames): Black and Cherokee. Acknowledged by many to be one of the greatest (if not the greatest) guitarists of all time.

Slash (Guns N’ Roses, Velvet Revolver, Spinal Tap, Road Crew, and entirely too many others to list): biracial- Nigerian and white. He’s the guitarist for Guns N Roses, whose hits include (but are not limited to) Welcome to The Jungle and Sweet Child O’ Mine. He joined his bandmates of Guns N’ Roses Duff McKagan and Matt Sorum in the early 2000s to form Velvet Revolver, recruiting Scott Weiland of Stone Temple Pilots for vocals. He continues to release music, especially with Myles Kennedy of Myles Kennedy and the Conspirators and Alter Bridge (see Driving Rain).

Robert Trujilo (Metallica, Suicidal Tendencies, Mass Mental, Infectious Grooves): Mexican and unspecified Native American descent. Trujilo replaced Jason Newsted as guitarist for Metallica, starting as a full time recording member with St. Anger (2003).

Carlos Santana (Santana): Mexican-born Latinx. A legendary guitarist, Santana’s song Smooth featuring Matchbox Twenty’s Rob Thomas is still an incredibly popular hit to this day. A prolific part of the song is Santana’s guitar work at the beginning of and throughout the song. The riff is considered to rather iconic to rock music as a genre.

Freddie Mercury (Queen): Indian Parsi, born in Zanzibar. Mercury is also considered to be an LGBTQIA+ icon by many. He was a groundbreaking and charismatic performer (not to mention his prolific appearance and fashion). His absolute powerhouse of a voice behind Queen’s innumerable hits like Bohemian Rhapsody, We Will Rock You, and We Are The Champions earned Mercury a deity-like status in both the music industry and pop culture as a whole. He continues to influence and inspire many in the decades since his death.

To all my BIPOC beauties/handsome people:

You exist in this industry. You belong. Do not let anyone in this scene erase or invalidate you.

[carleighalpha]

Intertwining Vines

David's on the prowl for his newest victim. This time things are different.

Rating: M

Word Count: 1.2K

Imagine: Fluff & Smut

Warnings: Smut and Steamy

It was every night, the same time that David and his Lost Boys would venture on the boardwalk to find any prey they could feast on to satiate their hunger and dispose of the bodies. Yet, one girl was interesting to him.

" You've been staring at her for 30 mins!" Dwayne said in a joking way.

" Come on David, are you gonna charm her like every other blood bag or what?" Marko asked as he had a slight shake going.

" Don't be a chicken!" Paul said as David turned to him with a small grimace.

" Come on David!" Star said as she tried pulling him towards her.

" You know I don't think of you that way!" He said staring at the gypsy. She pouted before sauntering off. David's gaze turned back to the girl he continued to watch. He then began to walk towards her. The way she stood was strong. He didn't know if he wanted to fuck her or kill her. Time would tell.

" Hey." David said in a very quiet but powerful tone. The girl turned to him and he noticed her eyes. The {E/C} eyes caused him to lose his way for a mere moment of time.

" Can I help you?" She asked as David looked at her attire. Black jacket, blue crop top, black torn jeans, and black combat boots. Her {H/C} was striking as it went to her lower back.

" Just a name to your face there sexy." David said as the girl smirked at him.

He's strong and persistent. But the dead stench lingers. {Y/N} thought as she stared at the platinum blonde man in front of her.

" {Y/N} if you must know." She says in a playful tone. The vampire smirked at her and looked back at his boys before nodding to them that he has his own plans. They howl like crazy ones before going for their own meals.

" Seems you are the playful type. I'm David." David said with his signature smirk, hoping to lure her from playful eyes. Her body was nice, maybe he could get a taste.

" Why don't you follow me?" {Y/N} said as she flashed her own smile. David saw that her canines were unusually sharp, but all the more fun! David nodded and followed her down to the beach, close to the rock beds and ledges in the small wooded area. David put her back towards the rockface.

" I know what you are, David and you don't scare me." {Y/N} said with her eyes flashing a cold blue.

" Nice job luring me away, a lone wolf." She said as she let her lower lip trace David's ear. He felt his eyes roll a bit in the back of his head as she said those words.

" I could eat you." David said with a sadistic tone, but {Y/N} pressed her firm body against his as she released a strong pheromone.

" You can have a tase, as long as I can get some of what your hiding." {Y/N} said as she almost ripped his pant loose. He growled at that, he knew what he wanted. He wanted to fuck her nice and good.

" I think we can arrange that." David said with a fanged grin. {Y/N} kissed him hard with a new fire in her belly. She was heated and ready.

" Come on David!" {Y/N} said in a lustful tone. David felt his erection becoming painfully hard at this moment. {Y/N} removed David's jacket as he had her jump up. Her legs wrapped around his waist. {Y/N}'s jacket came off with no effort.

" God Fuck!" David growled against her neck as {Y/N} was against a tree. She tore her own top off after her feet were touching the ground. David got his shirt off and threw it to the ground. {Y/N} had no bra on as David immediately wrapped his lips around one of her nipples while his other hand worked the other. {Y/N} yelped in excitement as her body got more and more heated.

" Fuck David!" {Y/N} moaned out as he came up and placed a kiss upon her neck, she held his head there. David then bit down on her, letting her sweet blood into his mouth. It was liquid ecstasy to him. He didn't want to be greedy, he took very little before sealing it away.

" That was amazing, and we haven't even fucked yet." {Y/N} said with a smile. David smirked as he got her pants off, she wasn't even wearing underwear and she smelt divine, almost like a bitch in heat.

" Fuck you smell good!" David said as {Y/N} moaned as he played with her sensitive nub. {Y/N} felt her fangs extend, the feeling of orgasm was reaching as David put two fingers inside her and began scissoring them together. The wetness of her sweet core made David stop for a moment to lick her wetness. He growled before spreading her legs apart and licking her deeply as he played with her clit.

" Fuck!" {Y/N} cried out as her claws grew, gripping his hair as he ate her out. She was a sweet drink that he craved and he only just discovered her. It wasn't long before she was howling out as David licked her to bliss. He drank every last drop of her sweet release. He soon got up and kissed her as he removed his pants and aligned his cock. He entered her fast and hard.

" God fuck!" David growled as he placed ghosting kisses on her neck. {Y/N} gripped his mullet as her walls squeezed him tight. The rhythm he created was fast and heated, David almost felt her wall gripping him like a vise.

" Christ!" {Y/N} growled as her eyes glowed that cold steel blue of her wolf. She hoped up and wrapped her legs around him as he sat down. Her hands-on his shoulders as she bounced up and down, her wetness made it easier for her to slide up and down on his cock. He gripped her back as he left bleeding scratch marks there. The wounds closed fast as David's bloodlust occurred. He moved her {H/C} hair out of the way and bit her neck to drink her blood. Her howl of pleasure caused her walls to tighten around his cock again.

" Christ David!" {Y/N} shrieked as David pounded into her hard with a closing climax at the edge. David let her neck go as he growled out. He stilled deep within her and came deep within her. {Y/N}'s eyes flashed with knowledge of what was happening within her very being. David helps her get off of him. {Y/N} smirks at him.

" You did me a great service David." {Y/N} smirked as warmth settled within her. He had no idea what she meant. {Y/N} got on all fours and changed into this beautiful white wolf and vanished into the woods. David smirked as he got her clothes that remained and placed them on a stump before leaving.

" Werewolves." David said as he smirked before leaving.

[sanguinesinners]

Roman & Peter

[sanguinesinners]

❛  all of this is my fault.  ❜ Caleb to Peter

"Feelings aren't your fault"

Peter's silence had finally broken, he knew what was coming. Ever since trying to call upon Roman multiple times, only to see the Upir frantic with packing, and talks of getting out of Hemlock Grove for good... Of course, He knew he would know about travelling.

But he didn't know that things would start to change between them all.

"You're magnetic and... I guess since you came into our shitty lives. You made an impact. A pretty hard one - I can see why He loves you"

Rumancek managed a weak smile, though it was painful, it had also carried sincerity. He knew he'd lose him, but if it meant that Caleb would be happy. then that would of been his wish, and goal... finally come true.

@ofthestcrs

[inkyblinders]

Together with You

Gif credits to @peakyblinded and @captaindelafere

Pairing: Johnny Dogs x Reader

Requested by: @anythingwriter "I don’t really have a specific plot, but definitely a y/n reader. Ummm maybe where the reader is his wife or something and everyone loves her bc she’s just so sweet?? Idrk lol but I’m sure it’ll be great whatever it is!!"

Author’s note: The story took me a while to plan out because I didn’t want it to be too generic, you know? Also we don’t know too much about Johnny Dogs from the series. It’s a little different from what I’m used to, but I hope you like it! My requests are still open for everyone as well :)

Summary: Johnny Dogs and you spend a day at the Cheltenham Races (555 words).

Warnings: None

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

It’s a lovely day for a fair, you think to yourself as you watch the lords and ladies mill about by the refreshment stand. They weren’t royalty, to be sure, but it’s what you and Johnny have grown to call these people, with their top hats and jewels and posh affectations.

You can hardly believe it’s only been a year since you were one of them. But one day you traded your silks for linen and your coiffed hair for sensible braids, and haven’t looked back since.

Just then, three little figures blur past you.

Johnny Dogs tries to chase after them while balancing a drink in each hand. By the time he reaches your table, he is huffing and red-faced, muttering under his breath in a good-naturedly sort of way.

“Little wolf cubs, I tellya. Give them a coin and all of a sudden they forget who their Da is.”

“Oh Johnny, they’re children. And it's a fair day, after all.” You sigh contentedly as you slip the lemonade. It is perfect.

“Let’s take a walk around the grounds,” Johnny stands up, clicks his heels, and offers you his hand in an imitation of a perfect gentleman. You accept with a little curtsy.

The Cheltenham Races. Most of the spectators are already at the horse track, cheering for their favorites and slipping in a bet or two. Normally Johnny would be whooping right along with them, but today he is content just to be with you.

Before long, you arrive in the large white horse tent where you wave a hand in greeting to Johnny’s cousins, who are currying the ponies they’re planning to sell. Seeing the horses patiently standing as their coats are brushed brings back a memory from a year ago. You wonder if Johnny is thinking the same thing.

“Do you remember Tully, my love?” He asks.

“Of course,” you laugh as you lean against his shoulder. “She nearly kicked you in the head while you were shoeing her, right there in that stall.”

“Only because I couldn’t stop looking at your pretty face.” He winks.

“Are you sure it wasn’t the pearls in my hair you had your eyes on?”

“Why no! That horse could have bit my arse and I wouldn’t have felt a pinch, so enchanted I was by your beauty.”

“Ah! So it’s just my beauty that entranced you, then?” You tease.

“Aye, at first, sure.” He admits, “But then it was after that I fell in love with you... Because you were kind and helped me up on my feet when the other lords and ladies just laughed...”

“...Do you regret it?”

Seeing his suddenly earnest look. You realize he isn’t talking about that day, but the year that came after. You sigh in exasperation as you reach out a hand to your husband's face.

“You’re a good man, Johnny Dogs.” You say simply. “A good man and a idiot.” You lift your toes and kiss his cheek. Gypsy life is hard, but there is nothing you couldn’t bear with Johnny by your side.

With his arms around your waist, the two of you follow the scent of cotton candy and popcorn and walk into the crowd.

[thetimeofthetwelfth]

so... has anyone else ever created a station on pandora for Labyrinth?

do it if you haven't and listen to the song selections, because it. is. perfection.

songs played so far:

don't you forget about me (she won't)

sweet dreams (yes...)

take on me (she will... later)

down under (i see what you did there)

separate ways (... don't.)

all the love (😭)

hungry like the wolf (😏)

don't stop me now (he is a sex machine lbr)

hold on, i'm comin' (don't worry toby!!)

gypsy (seriously?!? OMG. just... read the lyrics.)

PANDORA... ❤ your sareth shippers are showing.

[sanguinesinners]

My muse

Peter Rumancek; Visage

‘I prefer, Sexy man beast’

[indigaux]

African American Hoodoo History: Aunt Caroline Dye

My bad for originally posting this with content from a source that is reported culturally appropriative and plain inaccurate. Thanks to those who let me know! I’ve been MIA for so long, y’all are helping me to catch up on all the latest conjure tea. I appreciate your critiques <3 

PSA Information on how to begin working with the spirit of Aunt Caroline Dye is meant for Black witches and witches of the African diaspora only. 

About Aunt Caroline Dye

Caroline Tracy Dye (1843?–1918), better known as Aunt Caroline Dye,  was born into slavery in South Carolina. She was gifted with the Far-eye as a child, able to see things outside of the realm of the mundane. As she grew older and other folks became aware of her abilities, she was labeled “fortune-teller”, though some say she never saw herself as such. Aunt Caroline Dye was a highly respected seer whose name was recognized in Arkansas and the Mid-South in the early years of the twentieth century. She was born into slavery in Spartanburg, South Carolina, about 1843—there is conflicting information through the years about her date of birth and early life. According to Craig (2009): “Caroline Tracy became aware of her abilities as a seer while still a young child. She could reportedly see things outside her line of vision that others could not.” 

Aunt Caroline had a large following from all over the south and in particular from Tennessee. According to Craig (2009) she only used a deck of cards to help with her readings, and she  refused to give readings about love or the outcome of World War 1. “She did, however, tell many people the location of strayed or stolen livestock, sometimes giving specific directions, and she helped people locate missing jewelry. She gave visions of the future for her clients and offered advice on missing persons” (Craig, 2009). It was after Dye moved to Newport (Jackson County) that her reputation began to grow. She never claimed to be a fortune teller; that title was given to her by others. Her clients were both Black and White, and most showed their appreciation by paying her a few dollars for a reading, although payment was not required. Dye reported that she received twenty to thirty letters a day, with most including money for her services. It was said that some prominent White businessmen of Jackson County would not make important decisions before consulting her. All day long, people crowded into her home in Newport waiting for a reading. She took advantage of the large number of visitors and sold meals from her house. Dye reportedly only used a deck of cards to help her concentration and would not give readings about love or the outcome of World War I; she did, however, tell many people the location of  strayed or stolen livestock, sometimes giving specific directions, and she helped people locate missing jewelry. She gave visions of the future for her clients and offered advice on missing persons. Dye died on September 26, 1918, in Newport. After her death, large amounts of cash were reportedly found in her house. She is buried in Gum Grove Cemetery in Newport next to her husband, who had died in 1907.

Aunt Caroline Dye's legacy persists as her name is forever part of two songs written by Memphis bluesman W. C. Handy. According to Handy, the gypsy mentioned in “St. Louis Blues” (1914) was Caroline Dye. In addition, “Sundown Blues” (1923), was identified by Handy as the fortune teller (Aunt Caroline Dye) of Newport, Arkansas. You can listen to "Aunt Caroline Dyer Blues" by the Memphis Jug Band at the bottom of this page. Over the years, Aunt Caroline Dye's legend has grown to describe her as seer to hoodoo woman, two headed doctor, fortune teller, psychic and conjure doctor. 

Working with Aunt Caroline Dye

Aunt Caroline Dye is a Spirit Guide who has found her way onto the altars of rootworkers and spiritualists. She can be found alongside Dr. Martin Luther King, Dr. Gregorio Hernandez,  St. Michael, Jesus, and Mama Mary. She may be compatible with St. Anthony as well, since they both specialize in locating lost articles. Because of her reputation as fortune teller and psychic, items such as tarot cards, playing cards, crystals, and crystal balls can be found on her altar, although she is said to have never used any of that sort of paraphernalia. Keeping your own tools of divination on her altar makes  sense  in  terms  of asking  for  her  blessings  on  them and for helping you with your own gift of sight. Despite the fact that Caroline Dye was born a slave and illiterate—reportedly not even able to write her own name—she was a thriving business woman. She had a steady flow of cash coming in and is said to have invested in real estate and owned eight farms (Wolf, 1969). This tells me she would be a good  Spirit  to  petition  for  help  in  business matters and for keeping the money coming even in difficult economic times. She would be particularly suited for women of color who are in business for themselves. Offerings to Caroline Dye could include sugarcane syrup, cornbread, yams, pound cake, sweet tea, peaches, magnolias and Southern food in general. She is said to have kept a very clean and neat home, with her tables covered in white. Her altar can be kept similarly neat and clean and covered with a white cloth.

Not much has been written about Caroline Dye in terms of working with her as a Spirit Guide. Whenever this is the case, it behooves us to take a look at the person’s life to learn how they lived their lives and what was important to them. The things that stand out can be further amplified through silent meditation and by communing with the Spirit on a daily basis, remaining open to receiving what information they give us.  

Source: ConjureDoctors.com

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

First Meetings - Arthur Morgan/Elizabeth McGill

Series: Call it Fate or Call it Chance 

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Elizabeth McGill (Plus size, Female OC) 

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Summary: Arthur Morgan hears someone in distress in the woods and goes to help. It’s a small world though and soon finds himself meeting a friend of one of his acquaintances. Little does he know it’s the start of a relationship that might just change his fate.  

Warning: Talks of hunting, wolves get killed because they’re trying to eat OC, sorry! Talks of canon character death, spoilers? 

Rating: T

Notes: So, I don’t have the energy these days to write a full fic, but I figured if I write a series of interconnecting one-shots then I can write for these two, get the story there, but without needed them all to lead off from one another like chapters. This series will document that relationship between Arthur Morgan and Elizabeth McGill, a plus size, English OC of mine who’s basically the online character but with less of the outlaw stuff. I hope you love her as much as I do and I hope you enjoy this first part in the series.

Archiveofourown

I’m always happy for requests, suggestions, prompts, questions about this two even if my normal requests are closed. Feel free to draw my characters, feel free to write stuff for them, feel free to ask me questions about them. 

“Oh, go away you bloody little blighters! Shoo! I said shoo!” Arthur heard the call over all else, a lilting English accent, soft but scolding, like a mother to a troublesome child. He shifts Dave, the large black shire who he’d allowed Jack to name, forward, just breaching the tree line to see a woman standing on the lower branch of a tree, arms wrapped around the trunk. Wolves circled the base, baying, waiting, biding their time, hoping she’d slip. They were so entirely focused on her that they gave Arthur and the large horse no mind, not caring much for them at the moment. Clearly they had decided this woman was dinner and had some sort of spiteful vendetta, if wolves could feel spite that is. 

She was a plump thing, short in height, round in figure with dark chestnut hair piled high in a gibson style pompadour atop her head. Her cheeks were rouged and her lips painted a poppy red, heavy skirt falling around her feet, kicking up every now and then as a wolf attempted to jump high enough to reach her, to try for a bite. He watched her kick one a way, a well aimed kick that set the wolf flopping to the ground with a yelp before it got back up again growling. A pretty thing, for sure. 

Elizabeth McGill very rarely cursed out her horse, Scrawny, but today she was certainly doing so, mentally of course. She loved her big, doofus of a horse, the gypsy cob was anything but scrawny and he was gentle natured. He was, however, a coward when it came to wolves. He had bucked her so hard she’d lost her glasses, and in her haste to climb a tree hadn’t been able to find them again. If she could see she’d just shoot the bloody wolves circling her, unfortunately, she was blind as a, well, person without her glasses, and she did not trust that she’d hit a single one. She was usually a fine shot, hunting had become part of her trade, but...she usually could see while doing it. It also didn’t help that Scrawny had run off with all but her revolver, leaving her there. His loyalty was astounding. 

“Y’alright, miss?” She can’t see much, just a blurry shape at the edge of the trees, big enough to be a man on a horse, big and dark coloured. The voice is deep, a heavy southern drawl that is pleasant on the ears, even more so because she’s been waiting desperately for a helping hand. 

“I could do with a little assistance, sir!” She was usually the one helping others, but today, the tables had turned and she was not going to turn down the one person who’d arrived in the last half hour. She was fed up of clinging to a tree trunk especially in a heavy autumn skirt. She hadn’t been planning on hunting that day, she’d already done quite enough on the journey down from the Adler Ranch and had been close to Valentine, expecting to simply sell the pelts, teeth, claws, and the like that she’d gathered. Her first mistake was expecting a simple, calm journey of course. Things never were simple or calm, if it wasn’t a cougar attempting to eat her, an ambush by some local gang, or some fellow in need of help, then it was bad weather or snakes. The latter of which Scrawny hated even more than wolves, if that was possible. 

She didn’t so much as watch the man circle around on his horse, shooting the wolves, as much as squint ineffectively and listen to the sound of hooves clipping the dirt, snorts from a remarkably brave horse, and the dying yelps of wolves. Part of her was envious that Scrawny wasn’t that brave, had he been she could have easily dealt with the wolves herself and never ended up in this damnable tree.

“You can come down now, miss.” The man proffers a hand and Elizabeth takes it using its strength and a hand on his shoulder to keep her balance as she clambers down from her perch, she’s still blind and the help is appreciated. She doesn’t doubt that she’d easily take quite the tumble without guidance. He is nothing if not respectful, the other hand that rests at her waist to help down is placed just so as not to cause offence and is removed the moment her feet are on stable ground. 

What he truly notices is just how short she really is, now she’s beside him her head barely comes to his shoulder. He feels suddenly too imposing, large, and feels the urge to make himself smaller if only to appear less intimidating. 

“I...thank you, do you happen to see a pair of spectacles on the ground? My horse bucked me and I lost them...otherwise I would have handled the wolves myself but, i’m rather blind like this.” Arthur finally notices the way her hazel eyes don’t quite focus on him or her surroundings, when he speaks she can’t quite look him in the eye, but instead moves her gaze around as if trying to. Her squint is also more noticeable all of a sudden and he finds himself hastening to find her spectacles, looking across the ground careful to mind his step. 

“You probably shouldn’t go telling strange men that, ma’am, some might take advantage.” He doesn’t say it to be intimidating or the like, simply out of concern. She clearly couldn’t see well without them and a lesser man, someone like Micah, would surely take advantage. Her trust in him is refreshing but concerning at the same time. He, after all, does not consider himself to be a good man.

“Well, it’s a good thing that a gentleman like yourself happened by instead then, Mr…?” She knows he is concerned for her, she is sure like many men before he thinks her too naïve, too sweet, and perhaps he isn’t wrong on some of those counts. But, she preferred not to live life assuming the worst of everyone, even if people tended to prove that they were indeed rather rotten inside. The amount of strangers in need of help she’d stopped by only to be ambushed was rather alarming at times. But, she did pride herself on her own ability to look after herself, except when she found herself without her glasses. 

“Morgan, Arthur Morgan.” 

“Elizabeth McGill, a pleasure. Thank you, for stopping. I might have been up there for hours otherwise, until they got bored that is, but...I’ve known wolves to bide their time.” She pretends to help because really her running her hands along the grass isn’t doing much, she can’t see after all. 

“Uh, here, Miss McGill, your glasses.” He finds them a ways away from the tree, far enough that he knows she’d have never found them on her own. They’re round and surprisingly unbroken which he is oddly relieved to see for a man not at all invested in them. He passes them to her, watches them change the shape of her face, the clarity coming to her eyes as she blinks up at him with a soft smile. They suit her, feel like something she’s supposed to be wearing, not something that she has to wear. 

For the first time Elizabeth can see her saviour clearly and the man certainly impressed. He was tall, that she already knew even without her glasses, and he was broad, strong, the sort of man that could clearly lift a heavy weight, tackle a man to the ground or hold his own in a fist fight. Mr Morgan had a weathered, but handsome face, little freckles marked his skin, signs of spending time in the sun, his beard was long but neat, but most striking of all were his eyes. He had the most gentle bluish-green eyes she’d seen on a man of his size. 

“You gonna be okay? Your horse still around?” His brows pulled together in the middle out of concern and she found herself smiling at him without much thought. He had been kinder to her in the last 15 minutes than most people were. It warmed her heart just a little more. 

“He’ll be around,” She stops and whistles, sharp, and high. Clear as crystal, and waits a few beats before whistling again. This time Arthur can hear the sound of heavy hooves galloping forward and moves just in time to avoid a large palomino gypsy cob that comes careening out from behind some trees. The horse is lumbering and large as any draft horse is, white and cream dappled coat, dirty from his escape. His hindquarters are covered in pelts, more pelts than Arthur has ever seen, and it’s clear to him that this Miss McGill is a skilled hunter and, if not for her spectacle issue, would have been just fine on her own. It changes his opinion of her, shapes it from a naive, delicate woman, to someone more capable, though still seemingly sweet and lady-like. If possible his interest in her peaked further. 

She places her hands on her wide hips, scowling up at the horse, who’s nodding his head up and down at her in greeting with little nickering sounds, “Scrawny. I hope you know I’m terribly disappointed in you. Leaving me like that. I thought we agreed we were going to work on this wolf phobia of yours, or were you just conning me out of all those oatcakes?”

The horse huffs in a decidedly human way that makes Arthur grin, he doesn’t doubt the big thing had been making away with as many oatcakes as possible with absolutely no understanding or intention of facing a pack of wolves anytime soon.

“You’re lucky that kind Mr Morgan here was happy to help, what would you do if I was eaten by a ferocious pack of wolves?” The horse nickers and presses his large head against her, bumping into her hard enough for her to let out an ouph and take a few steps back. Her back hitting Arthur’s chest, he raised his hands to the tops of her arms to steady her before taking a polite step back, aware he could easily crowd her. 

“I was just doing what anyone would, Miss McGill.” She turns to raise an eyebrow at his words and he feels decidedly admonished before she’s even parted those red lips.

“I think we both know that’s not true, Mr Morgan. I’ve stopped to help enough people who’ve turned a gun on me to know that you are one of a small minority of good folk, whether you want to believe you are or not.” She watches him rub the back of his neck, worn hat tilting forward to hide half his face, but she can still see the beginning flush to his skin from the attention and the creeping little smile twisting at the corners of his mouth. It makes her smile in return, this large, imposing man, bashful at a little compliment like that. 

“What are you doing out here anyways, Miss?”

“I just came down from the mountains. I was visiting a friend who...well, she wasn’t there and her...her husband was dead.” There is a shaky pause, he can see her hand trembling slightly at the thought of her friend and her husband before she bunches it up in her skirt, “Did some hunting on the way down, figured I'd make my usual stop in Valentine to Ted, the butcher, usually gives me a fair price for the things I bring him.” 

Elizabeth can still see poor Jake’s face, cold, frozen solid in the back of a wagon. Some animals had gotten to him before he’d frozen completely and she’d spent a whole day just digging him a grave, hard work considering the ground was almost completely solid itself. But she couldn’t leave him like that and she knew he’d prefer being buried on his own property to burned or some such. She still had blisters on her palms from the digging, despite gloves the hard work had rubbed her hands raw. Made it a tad more difficult to hunt on the way down with her bow, but she’d managed. 

“What was your friend's name?”

“Mrs Adler, Sadie Adler. Used to do jobs for her and her husband when I visited...why?”

“Well, it’s a small world, Miss McGill.” He looks almost surprised at the name she’d thrown out, before smiling at her softly and elaborating, “Me and my friends, we found her oh about...3 weeks back? She was in a pretty bad state, but she’s been with us since. Awful business that with her husband, some O’Driscolls killed him.” Arthur looks apologetic and it soothes her distress to know that at least Sadie is safe, that at least despite all the bad luck in the world something had gone right for her. She hadn’t been found by someone else, someone who would hurt her and that was a small blessing in a world full of problems and bad people. 

“You and your friends?” It’s said with a raised eyebrow and all he can do is rub the back of his neck and look away from her. It doesn’t feel right to lie to her, when she clearly suspects his friends aren’t just his drinking buddies. But, he’s not entirely sure if he can trust her. She seems nice enough, but plenty of people seem nice enough till they find out you have a bounty on your head. Not that Elizabeth could take him in, he doubts given the sheer difference in size that she’d manage it on her own. But, he wouldn’t put it past her to try...if she were so inclined. To him she seems both gentle, delicate, and formidable, words that seem like they shouldn’t work together until you look at her. 

“Well…”

“Relax, Mr Morgan. I understand.” She does, she’s known enough ‘gangs’ of ‘outlaws’ to know that not all are as bad or dishonourable as they seem and that the need to protect their made family was great. She had her suspicions but if they had helped Sadie as Arthur had helped her then she had little doubt that they were the honourable sort of outlaw that she had little problem with. So long as innocent people weren’t getting hurt and the poor weren’t being robbed from she had few objections, even if she personally wasn’t comfortable with robbing or lying, herself. 

The world was a harsh place, few could support themselves on simple law abiding trades like hunting. She was lucky in that respect. One mouth to feed was different to 20. 

“Could I...I hesitate to ask, after all you’ve done for me, Mr Morgan...but could I see her? I...I can’t imagine what she’s going through and I’d like her to know Jake had a proper burial. I did rites and all. She deserves to know.” She twists her hands together, nervous of his answer. She could understand if he said no, he clearly needed to protect his gang and she was a stranger to him. But, she wanted to see her friend and most of all she wanted her friend to know that Jake wasn’t left out there to be eaten or for someone else to find. She’d even managed to gather some of Sadie’s things from the ranch in the end. Photos and trinkets that she’d hoped at the time to be able to give her if she was still alive. 

Arthur rubbed a large scarred hand across his beard, the hairs scratching at his skin as he looked at her. She was small in stature, soft in body, and those hazel eyes held honest intentions. Taking her back to camp wasn’t without risk, but a liar knew a liar when he saw one. She didn’t care about his gang, she wasn’t hunting them down for a fat bounty, she just wanted to see her friend and after everything Mrs Adler had been through he thought she might want to see her friend too. 

With a deep sigh and a quick thought that he hoped he wasn’t making a terrible mistake, Arthur pulled the black bandana from his back pocket. “I’d have to blindfold you, Miss...I gotta...I gotta protect them and I can’t be havin’ you know where we’re at. You understand?”

She could walk away, that was the offer. Be blindfolded by this stranger, this tall, broad, imposing figure or walk away. It was an easy decision to make. He was large and he was imposing, but the gentle way he held out the piece of cloth, the soft furrow to his brow, the way he hunched his shoulders to look smaller, all those things told her he was a good man. Not a pure man, not devoid of wrongdoing or bad deeds, but good in the sort of way that a man out here could be good. She would be safe with him. She could trust his intentions towards her. 

“I understand, Mr Morgan.” She consents taking the fabric from him, it is softer than she expects, “Before we go, I'd suggest we skin those wolves. Your camp needs food I'm sure and those pelts’ll fetch you a good bit of coin, waste not want not.”

“Are you sure?” She’s the hunter after all, or it seems that way and part of Arthur can’t help but feel like she’d have done just fine without him had her glasses not been knocked off. Maybe, she’d been wanting to hunt the four wolves in the first place. He doesn’t want to offend her by taking what she might see as hers, but she just gives him another one of those looks that reminds him of a prettier, younger, much more amicable Ms. Grimshaw. 

 “Mr Morgan, you shot them, they’re yours to plunder. I have enough bloody pelts as it is, Scrawny here would probably complain if he had a few more to carry, right boy?” As if in answer the big cob nods his head up and down with a huff, clearly used to be used as a pack horse. He’s not sure the horse really understands the question, but it’s clear he’s a responsive horse used to a talkative owner, not like Dave who’s stood quietly behind Arthur, only occasionally nudging him with his nose and nibbling at strands of his hair as if expecting a sugar cube to be there. 

“Well, if you’re sure…” She helps him skin them, while she hadn’t intended to do any skinning today and her blouse would certainly hate her for it, sharing the work would make it go quicker and she could offer a few tips as they went. Not much seeing as Mr Morgan was already a skilled hunter by the looks of things. The pelts were in fine condition, he was clearly a good shot, one rifle round to each wolf’s head, no mess, no unnecessary injuries or wasted ammunition. While they had wanted to kill her, she held a healthy respect for wolves and was glad that they didn’t die slowly. Quickly, cleanly, and humanely, something she held dear when it came to hunting. 

Elizabeth grabbed a ratty cloth from her saddlebag, using it and some water from a canteen to clean her arms, it was never smart to leave blood on you and it wasn’t particularly nice either. She offered both to Arthur who gladly did the same, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, thick forearms being cleaned of blood. It was startling to her in that moment that she didn’t feel scared or worried at all. Here she was in the woods with a stranger, a broad, striking and clearly strong stranger, who had multiple guns, a hunting knife, and a bow all on hand. Yet, she didn’t feel a lick of apprehension or worry. 

“Who’s this beautiful boy then?” There was a split second when Arthur, despite himself, almost thought she was talking to him. That was clearly not the case when he looked up startled to see her approaching Dave. The large shire usually disliked others, but was only watching the woman cautiously, deciding whether to bite, kick, or con her out of some food. When Hosea had given him the large beast claiming he was hard to handle and that he’d be better off selling him, something in Arthur had understood. The horse was a bit like him, he was a bit world weary, cautious of others, afraid of getting hurt, but underneath it all a soft hearted thing. 

“...Dave.” He wished in that moment that he hadn’t allowed Jack to name the shire, he loved Dave. Had bonded well with him, but telling a pretty lady that your horse was named Dave rather than Boadicea was a might embarrassing especially when that horse was 17 hands high and capable of trampling wolves underfoot. 

“He’s beautiful.” She likes his name, not that she says that, but it’s clear from the flush to Arthur’s cheeks that he’s not confident in the name choice. She thinks it suits. The shire is beautiful, giant compared to her and larger than Scrawny who was an impressive 15 hands high, especially considering his breed. The Shire pawed at the ground as she got closer, but she hushed him, little quiet comments and soothing sounds, a hand pulling a sugar cube from a skirt pocket. 

There was always something special about getting a horse like that to trust you, to eat from your palm and accept the touch of your hand to their neck. Dave was clearly a distrusting animal, but he let her pat his neck and brush his forehead. He let her tie Scrawny’s reins to his saddlehorn knowing she couldn’t guide herself blindfolded. 

“He don’t usually take to people too well…”

“Well, he just needs a kind touch that’s all. Someone hurt him real bad and he just needs to know that won’t happen again, right, sweetheart?” She says to the horse in a gentle tone, low and quiet. Arthur feels as if she’s talking about him, he thinks on the times he’s been bitten, the way he’s drawn back from people and he understands a little bit more why he and Dave work so well together. They’re two sides of the same damn coin and this woman had a way with both of them already. 

She takes a few steps back, before turning and clambering up into her own saddle. Despite the sheer size of her own horse, she manages well enough to clamber on up even in a thick, heavy skirt. She settles herself, arranges her skirt and takes those delicate round spectacles off and pockets them before grabbing the fabric he’d given her. 

“You’ll make sure Scrawny doesn’t run into any trees?” 

“I got you, miss. Don’t you worry.” It’s with that that Elizabeth wraps the blindfold around her eyes and tightens it at the back of her head, hand holding onto the saddlehorn as they begin to move. 

Arthur cannot help but be a little bit in awe at the trust she has decided to place in him.