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stardust-swan · 6 months ago

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Secrets to the Arabian Princess Scent 💐🧴🪷

So with Arab perfumes becoming popular in the West due to their strong projection and beautiful smell, and the Arab world becoming known for our knowledge on how to smell good af, I (a half Moroccan) am going to reveal some other ways we ensure we smell amazing to the girlies on Tumblr who are interested in Arab perfumes or just in generally smelling amazing 😍 Most tips are Moroccan but many apply to the Arab world in general (under the cut because this turned into a long post) ✨💞💐

1) Good Eating Habits: When my mother moved here to Europe, she was immediately struck by how the people seemed to smell like "pig." And that's no coincidence. You are what you eat, so coming from a country where nobody eats pig to one where everyone eats it, of course you're going to be struck by people smelling like it from the inside out. Not just that, but in the Arab world, it's also way less common for people to eat takeout and drink alcohol, whereas in many parts of the West, these things are a normal part of many people's diets and affects their natural scent. A lot of Arabs have also talked about how Westerners smell like "milk," and this is because Westerners tend to consume more dairy products than people in the East do. It's also common for Arabs to eat fruit as dessert instead of having cakes or cookies all the time (although speaking of cookies and cakes, the scents of rosewater, orange blossom water, almonds, honey, vanilla, oranges and lemons commonly used in Arab baking fill up the house with a wonderful smell while they're baking). Teas made from various herbal infusions are popular throughout the Arab world. Spearmint, peppermint, sage, cardamom, cinnamon, hibiscus, chamomile, anise, and thyme are commonly used to flavor tea in MENA. Dried lime tea is drunk in the Arabian Peninsula. Coffee flavoured with cardamom is also common. I especially like Turkish coffee. Spices like cinnamon, cardamom, and cloves are commonly used in cooking, and the scent of them can cling to your clothes and hair. Herbs like mint and parsley, which have natural deodorising properties, are often used in meals.

I'm not saying that you need to cut any foods out in order to smell good, but you should consider reducing the amounts of unhealthy foods and red meats you eat, and make sure to drink plenty of water and eat veggies and fruit daily.

2) Keeping a Clean House: Here in Ireland, a lot of people don't clean their houses every day. I know multiple people that only clean their floor once a week, and have a couple of neighbours who don't do much cleaning themselves and just have a housekeeper visit to clean once a week. But in Morocco, people clean daily. The home is also deep cleaned once a week, we even wash the walls. We don't wear shoes inside, and not just that, but we also have different slippers specifically for wearing inside the bathroom. Living in a clean space is important for smelling good, because no matter what you do, you'll always end up smelling like wherever you live due to spending so much time there. The scent will cling to your clothes and hair. Which means if your house smells dirty, you will also smell dirty.

As well as making sure the house is clean, Arabs also make it smell pretty with extras. For example, in Morocco it's common to burn incense or bakhour (perfumed wood chips), and the scent permeates your clothes. People also keep pieces of musk in their wardrobes (wrapped in a handkerchief). It come in scents like orange blossom, jasmine, amber, sandalwood, chamomile and lavender. An unused bar of soap or a sachet of potpourri in your wardrobe will do the same job though if you can't or don't want to buy musk. The musk can also be used as a scented wax melt, a home scent (you just leave it in a bowl), a body perfume (rub it on your skin), a hair perfume (rub on your palms and run through the hair), or to scent bathwater. Solid perfume made from natural ingredients has the same effect. I like Lush Rose Jam solid perfume, as it smells like sweet roses and Turkish delight, and a little goes a long way.

Specific to Marrakech, you can buy jasmine balls which you just leave around the house (if you're not in Marrakech, you can just leave potpourri or dried flowers and herbs in sachets on your desk, bedside table, etc). The Marrakech herbal shops also sell sandalwood bark which you burn. Oud and amber are also burned. Herbs like lavender are sprinkled under carpets and rugs so the scent rises as they're stepped on. Room sprays from brands like Nabeel are used, which come in a range of lovely scents (like the warm vanilla and oud Kanz or the rich floral Raunaq).

3) Personal Hygiene: In the Arab world, people shower daily. In Morocco, we also go to the hammam (public bath) once a week, and we sit in the sauna room, and then rub our bodies with sabon beldi (black soap), a natural soap made from olive oil and black olives, leaving it on for a few minutes before rinsing it off. Then we scrub our skin with a kessa glove after it's marinated. Exfoliating dead skin regularly makes perfume cling to you better (if you order Korean bath towels from Amazon, they're very similar to Moroccan kessa gloves and you use them in a similar way). Then after washing our hair, we use a ghassoul clay mask (some people also rub henna into their skin). After washing the clay off, many people rub rosewater or argan oil into their skin before heading to the relaxation area to enjoy refreshments. As well as helping us smell good, it also makes our skin incomparably soft. When my parents were newlyweds, my father remarked on how he'd never felt a woman with such soft skin in his life before. My mother attributes it to regularly using the hammams before moving here.

Obviously not everyone has access to a hammam, but you can create a similar experience at home. Just sit in a steamy hot shower for 10-15 minutes, wash your skin with a natural soap and leave it on for a few minutes before rinsing off and exfoliating with a glove. Then tone with rosewater and apply oil to your body.

Dukhan treatments (smoke baths) are practiced in Sudan. Married women and brides anoint themselves with oil, before sitting over a chair with a hole in the centre. Under the seat, there is a pit, in which acacia wood, frankincense, or other aromatic woods and resins are burned in a clay vessel.

As well as showering daily (and using the hammam regularly if you're Maghrebi), many people in the Arab world also perform wudu (ritual cleansing) five times a day before praying.

Women commonly apply Musk Al Tahara (white musk), an attar that smells like vanilla, flowers and soft musk on the external parts of their vulva after periods.

Alum was commonly used as a natural deodorant in the Arab world in the past, and some still use it today.

Bidets are also common in the Arab world. In the Anglosphere they're uncommon, but it's easy to get a portable bidet (a small squeezable bottle with a nozzle) online.

We also wash our hands before meals, with a pitcher of water which is passed around the room. In Turkey, they use kolonya, made from fig blossoms, jasmine, rose, or citrus to disinfect their hands. In Morocco, it's common for women to scent their hands with rosewater or orange blossom water after meals.

4) Fragrances, Lotions and Potions: In the Arab world, perfumes are incredible. They're oil-based, so they have excellent projection and longevity. The olfactory notes commonly used in them are beautiful too: delicate rosewater and orange blossom water, exotic oud, sweet amber, vibrant roses and jasmine. In Morocco, gardenia scents are popular, even among men.

Emirati perfumes are the most well known in the West and are super good. Some personal favourites of mine include Oud Mood by Lattafa (Caramel, rose, saffron, and oud), Fatima Pink by Zimaya (Sweet rose that smells like a bit like Turkish delight. it's a dupe of the French Parfums De Marly Delina, however, the actual Delina smells very similar to generic rose oil perfumes you can get in the Arab world to begin with so Zimaya was basically able to dupe it to a T. Their version lasts really long too), Ameerat Al Arab by Lattafa (jasmine, a hint of oud, slightly citrusy. Also the name means "Arabian Princess" in English), Fakhar Rose by Lattafa (sweet, fruity, and very floral) and Yara by Lattafa (floral, amber, vanilla and strawberry). I buy my perfumes from Dubai Perfume Shop in Dublin, but they can be easily found online. Some well-known Arab perfume houses include Lattafa, Al Rehab, Zimaya, Al Qurashi, Amouage, Afnan, Ajmal, Asdaaf, Al Haramain, Armaf, Kayali, Maison Alhambra, and Swiss Arabian, but there are hundreds more.

As well as sprayable perfume, perfume oil is also used. It usually comes in rollerballs or small containers, is inexpensive, and lasts for ages. Like spray perfume, it comes in a huge variety of scents. You can also put it in diffusers or add some to cotton balls and leave in your wardrobe to scent clothes and linens.

Arabs know when to wear perfumes. For example, a rich, sweet, strong oud and vanilla scent will be beautiful in colder weather. But in warm weather, it will become cloying and sickly. Musk, amber and saffron are popular in winter, while rose, orange blossom and jasmine are popular in summer.

In the Arab world, many stalls in the Medina sell gorgeous oils, fragrances and soaps that are inexpensive. For example, the musk I mentioned above. As well as making your home smell incredible, you can also rub it on your body and you'll smell good for days.

Rosewater is commonly used as a toner and to remove makeup. In the town of Skoura, where my great grandparents were from, men even use it to shave with! Orange blossom water is also used in Arab beauty routines in a similar way to rosewater. You can apply either to a bath for extra luxury.

Argan oil is commonly used in Morocco on both skin and hair, as well as the less well-known but just as good prickly pear oil (which is very high in vitamin E). Pure argan oil actually smells mild and not fragrant (similar to olive oil), but for beauty, things like rose oil and menthol are commonly added, so it smells pretty good. Throughout the Middle East and North Africa, jasmine hair oil, castor oil and sweet almond oil (I like putting it in my baths and on my body) are easy to find. Usually Middle Eastern and South Asian shops in the West sell them too.

Honey and almond masks have been used since ancient times, and to this day are still popular. You can buy them basically anywhere. Homemade face masks made from honey and yoghurt or crushed figs and yoghurt are also used.

Aloe Vera is used to treat dry skin, acne, and sunburns. It has a cool and refreshing scent, perfect for the hot climate in many parts of the Arabian world. I like applying it after shaving as it's soothing, natural, and absorbs easily.

Frankincense, a resin used in the Middle East and North Africa for thousands of years, was traditionally used as a natural perfume. It's commonly used in incense. Frankincense oil is also good for the skin.

There are many beautiful scented soaps available in the Arab world. If you go to Turkish or Arab supermarkets, a lot of them will have a section where they sell hygiene products, including soaps with ingredients like argan, rose and oud, and olive oil. I've even found Syrian Aleppo soap before. You can just buy soaps from regular stores in scents like rose, jasmine, honey and almond, orange blossom and sandalwood for achieving that exotic scent though.

As well as using various oils, perfumes, and fragrant beauty treatments, Arab women also know how to layer these different scents to add dimension to them and avoid clashing. For example, a rose perfume over a vanilla lotion will always smell good. Other combinations that are good include almond and vanilla, rose and oud, rose and jasmine, lavender and lemon, rose and orange blossom, and orange blossom and vanilla. But there are many different combinations you can use to achieve a delicious scent that's unique to you.

I hope this was helpful, stay pretty ✨

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marsprincess889 · 1 year ago

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NAKSHATRAS AS GODDESSES

3/27

🔪KRITTIKA🔥

DISCLAIMER: This is based solely on my research and the patterns that I saw. I can't promise that I'm gonna be sure in all the coorelations, but I'm going to attribute each nakshatra a goddess that I think fits it the closest. If you're dissapointed, to make up for it, I'm going to list some other deities in the end that I think also fit the nakshatra. Don't come for me if you think I'm wrong, be respectful in the comments if you think so and have fun 🤍

This was easy and almost immidiate. The associations between this goddess and Krittika are so apparent I didn't hesitate for a second. Look out for other deities similar to her in the end.

Brigid

Pantheon: Celtic (Irish)

Name meaning: "the exalted one", "strength"

Associations: fire, spring, poetry and inspiration, healing and herbalism, smithcraft, agriculture, cattle and sheep.

Symbols: Brigid's cross, holy wells, eternal flame.

Brigid is one of the most highly- revered and widely worshipped Celtic goddesses. She'a triple goddess, representing the maiden, the mother and the crone. As a Maiden, she rules over poetry, music and ispiration. As a Mother, she's presiding over healing. As a Crone, she's the goddess of fire and smithcraft.

Frequently depicted with fiery red hair, she is no simple goddess, also ruling over waters and serenity. She's a protector of women and children, presiding over childbirth and motherhood. Also frequengly depicted with lambs and sheep (krittika's yoni animal) and swans. She's closely connected to agriculture and farm animals.

Brigid, also being connected to wells and rivers, has many landmarks in Ireland with a body of water. The most famous one is a well in Kildare, Ireland. Water from that well is said to have healing properties.

Her father was Dagda (good, great god), leader of the Irish tribe Tuatha Dé Danann ("people of goddess Danu"), which consisted of Irish deities who lived there before the ancestors of the modern Irish had arrived. Dagda was a wise man, an all-father and a Druid. Brigid married Bres, another member of that tribe and together they had three children. One of them, Ruadán, died and Brigid mourned him with profound and painful sadness. She's very devoted to protecting children and this might be a reason why.

In honor of her, there's a sacred fire lit in Kildare and is guarded by the Sisters of St. Brigid. There has been a fire in Kildare since the time Brigid was worshipped. It has been put out several times, but has been re-lit and is still burning. This suggests that the worship of Brigid has endured as she she survived and was made a Catholic saint when Christianity came to Europe.

I want to talk about why I chose her for Krittika while comparing her to very similar goddesses.

First one is the Roman Vesta. Virgins were chosen to keep the fire of vesta burning and it was said that if even one of them gave their virginity, the fire would burn out. In those instances when fire burned out by itself, the poor Vestal Virgins were to blame. Vesta is also the Roman Equivalent of the Greek Hestia, both being goddesses of the hearth, fire and home.

Krittika is the nakshatra that burns impurities through being precise and cutting away all that is not nessecary, hence a sharp object and a flame being its symbols. Bridging the signs of Aries and Taurus, it's often fiery and passionate but also feminine and nurturing.

An Indian deity ruling over Krittika is Agni_ God of fire. An Indian goddess that is coorelated to Krittika (and also Purva Phalguni) is Tripura Sundari, meaning "the most beautiful in three worlds". This three world- triple goddess coorelation is apparent to me, besides the obvious fire associations, as well as nurturing, fertility and agriculture.

In the lunar mansion of Krittika, there's a constellation called the Pleiades, often called "the seven sisters". This is another confirmation of Krittika's very feminine nature, despite also representing the birth of the cosmic man and being very fiery and passionate in general.

Some other deities that I'd coorelate with Krittika:

Hestia- another virginal goddess of fire, also associated with home and hearth

Tripura Sundari- Indian goddess, "the most beautiful in the worlds"

Vesta- Roman goddess of fire and virgins

Bel- Celtic sun and fire god, also associated with healing, thunder and purification.

That's it! I hope you enjoyed reading about Brigid. This is a very condensed post but I said pretty much everything I wanted to say. I hope you understood Brigid's energy and made the coorelation between her and Krittika. If you're Krittika, even if you're not, COMMENT, like and reblog. Love u, take care ❤🔥

#krittika #krittika nakshatra #nakshatras #vedic astrology #astrology #astrology observations #vedic astrology observations #brigid #celtic mythology #irish mythology #ireland #celtic #goddess #goddess brigid

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shannendoherty-fans · 2 months ago

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Shannen's Native American Descent

We all know Shannen Doherty was of Irish descent through the paternal side of her family.

The Doherty / O’Doherty family is an Irish clan based in County Donegal. The O’Dohertys are named after Dochartach (c. 10th century), a member of the Cenél Conaill dynasty which in medieval Irish genealogy traced itself to Niall of the Nine Hostages. The O’Doherty clan and family name is one of the most ancient in Europe. The clan traces its pedigree through history, pre-history, and mythology to 2BC. (Source)

Shannen and her dad, John Thomas Doherty, in Ireland ca. 1996/97.

Shannen was also from English and Scottish descent through her mother Rosa Elizabeth née Wright. The red-haired Southern belle also has Native American ancestry, most concretley the Chumash people (Source), and thus has Shannen (Source).

Shannen and her mum spending time in nature, ca.2024.

Shannen explained that she wasn't able to be with her dad when he passed away on the 4th of November of 2010. Her best friend Chris Cortazzo told her to spend some quality time with her mother and him at his ranch in Tennesse, which is surrounded by Native American ground. When she was there suddenly the wind shaked the plants and trees and she felt her father’s arms go around her and say “It’s ok baby, I love you. I’m here" (Source) (Source).

Her mother Rosa said that one of her great-great-grandmothers (she doesn't know the grade) was forced to move in the called "Trail of Tears", the forced displacement of approximately 60,000 people of the "Five Civilized Tribes" [Cherokee, Chickasaw, Choctaw, Muscogee (Creek), and Seminoles] between 1830 and 1850, and the additional thousands of Native Americans within that were ethnically cleansed by the United States government (Wiki). Furthermore, she said her ancestor was from the Chumash people and was forced to move from Mississipi to Oklahoma (Source).

Rosa also said about Shannen's Native American's heritage:

"The whole Indian heritage to Shannen was very, very important ... Shannen swore when she bought this property [a ranch in Malibu to live with her mum, her friends, and to do a shelter for horses]… she says, I just feel it. She says, I know that this is where I'm supposed to be. And she just felt that whole Indian."

Also she was proud of having directed "Charmed"'s episode "The Good, The Bad and The Cursed" that features a storyline involving American's First Nations people's and Native actors Kimberly Guerrero (from Colville and Salish-Kootenai native peoples from Alaska) and Michael Greyeyes (Nêhiyaw (Plains Cree) from Muskeg Lake Cree Nation in Saskatchewan, Canada).

Shannen Doherty (R) with First Nations' actors Kimberley Guerrero and Michael Greyeyes.

The Chumash are a Native American people of the central and southern coastal regions of California (Wiki), in portions of what is now Kern, San Luis Obispo, Santa Barbara, Ventura and Los Angeles counties, extending from Morro Bay in the north to Malibu in the south to Mt Pinos in the east. Their territory includes three of the Channel Islands: Santa Cruz, Santa Rosa, and San Miguel; the smaller island of Anacapa was likely inhabited seasonally due to the lack of a consistent water source.

Modern place names with Chumash origins include Malibu, Nipomo, Lompoc, Ojai, Pismo Beach, Point Mugu, Port Hueneme, Piru, Lake Castaic, Saticoy, Simi Valley and Somis. Archaeological research demonstrates that the Chumash people have deep roots in the Santa Barbara Channel area and lived along the southern California coast for millennia.

The Chumash lived in over 150 independent villages, speaking variations of the same language. Much of their culture consisted of basketry, bead manufacturing and trading, cuisine of local abalone and clam, herbalism which consisted of using local herbs to produce teas and medical reliefs, rock art, and the scorpion tree. The scorpion tree was significant to the Chumash as shown in its arborglyph: a carving depicting a six-legged creature with a headdress including a crown and two spheres. The shamans participated in the carving which was used in observations of the stars and in part of the Chumash calendar. The Chumash resided between the Santa Ynez Mountains and the California coasts where a bounty of resources could be found. The tribe lived in an area of three environments: the interior, the coast, and the Northern Channel Islands. Some researchers believe that the Chumash may have been visited by Polynesians between AD 400 and 800, nearly 1,000 years before Christopher Columbus reached the Americas.

Chumash Family by American sculptor George S. Stuart

The maritime explorer Juan Cabrillo was the first European to make contact with the coastal Alta Californian tribes in the year 1542. Spain claimed what is now California from that time forward, but did not return to settle until 1769, when the first Spanish soldiers and missionaries arrived with the double purpose of Christianizing the Native Americans and facilitating Spanish colonization. The Chumash people moved from their villages to the Franciscan missions between 1772 and 1817.

Mexico seized control of the missions in 1834. Tribespeople either fled into the interior, attempted farming for themselves and were driven off the land, or were enslaved by the new administrators. After 1849 most Chumash land was lost due to theft by Americans and a declining population, due to the effects of violence and disease. The remaining Chumash began to lose their cohesive identity. In 1855, a small piece of land (120 acres) was set aside for just over 100 remaining Chumash Indians near Santa Ynez mission. This land ultimately became the only Chumash reservation, although Chumash individuals and families also continued to live throughout their former territory in southern California.

No native Chumash speak their own language since Mary Yee, the last Barbareño speaker, died in 1965. Today, the Chumash are estimated to have a population of 5,000 members.

Map of the Trail of Tears

Chumash worldview is centered on the belief "that considers all things to be, in varying measure, alive, intelligent, dangerous, and sacred." "They assume that the universe with its three, or in some versions five, layers has always been here."

Human beings occupy the Middle Region, which rests upon two giant snakes. Chronological time is unimportant, though the past is divided into two sections: the universal flood that caused the First People to become the natural world and, thereafter the creation of human beings, the arrival of the Europeans, and the devastating consequences that followed."

The middle region (sometimes referred to as 'antap), where humans and spirits of this world live and where shamans could travel in vision quests, is interconnected with the lower world (C'oyinahsup) through the springs and marsh areas and is connected to the upper world through the mountains. In the lower world live snakes, frogs, salamanders. The world trembles or has earthquakes when the snakes which support the world writhe.

Water creatures are also in contact with the powers of the lower world and "were often depicted in rock art perhaps to bring more water to the Chumash or to appease underworld spirits' at times of hunger or disease." Itiashap is the home of the First People. Alapay is the upper world in Chumash cosmology where the "sky people" lived, who play an important role in the health of the people. Principle figures of the sky world include the Sun, the Moon, Lizard, Sky Coyote, and Eagle. The Sun is the source of life and is also "a source of disease and death." The Sky Coyote, also known as the Great Coyote of the Sky or Shnilemun, is considered to be a protector and according to Inseño Chumash lore, “looks out for the welfare of all in the world below him”. During the creation of mankind, the Sky Coyote was present among the other important cosmological figures. The Eagle, also known as Slo’w, is the force that maintains momentum and order among the other stars so that they do not fall down on and destroy earth.

Chumash pictographs.

The Chumash cosmology is also centered around astronomy. Rock art and arborglyphs that have been found within Chumash sites are thought to have depicted Polaris (the North Star) and Ursa Major (the Big Dipper). These two astrological entities were paramount to the Chumash belief system as well as their perception of time. It is believed that the Chumash used these constellations to determine what time of the year it was depending on the position of Ursa Major around Polaris.

***

I love that Shannen showed her respect to her ancestry in some "Charmed" episodes, like in 2x10 "Heartbreak City" (click to see if bigger):

Charmed 3x01 "The Honeymoon is Over" (click to see bigger):

And the already mentioned 3x14 "The Good, The Bad and The Cursed" (click to see bigger). Her love for horses also comes from that connection:

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pigeonflavouredcake · 2 years ago

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My Grimoire Research Library

this is a list of my major resource I've referenced/am currently referencing in my big grimoire project. For books I'll be linking the Goodreads page, for pdfs, websites and videos i'll link them directly.

There are plenty of generalised practitioner resources that can work for everyone but as I have Irish ancestry and worship Hellenic deities quite a few of my resources are centred around Celtic Ireland, ancient Greece and the Olympic mythos. If you follow other sects of paganism you are more than welcome to reblog with your own list of resources.

Parts of my grimoire discuss topics of new age spiritualism, dangerous conspiracy theories, and bigotry in witchcraft so some resources in this list focus on that.

Books

Apollodorus - The Library of Greek Mythology

Astrea Taylor - Intuitive Witchcraft

Dee Dee Chainey & Willow Winsham - Treasury of Folklore: Woodlands and Forests

John Ferguson - Among The Gods: An Archaeological Exploration of Ancient Greek Religion

Katharine Briggs - The Fairies in Tradition and Literature

Kevin Danaher - The Year in Ireland: Irish Calendar Customs

Laura O'Brien - Fairy Faith in Ireland

Lindsey C. Watson - Magic in Ancient Greece and Rome

Nicholas Culpeper - Culpeper's Complete Herbal

Plutarch - The Rise and Fall of Athens: Nine Greek Lives

R.B. Parkinson - A Little Gay History: Desire and Diversity Around the World

Rachel Patterson - Seventy Eight Degrees of Wisdom: A Tarot Journey to Self-Awareness

Raleigh Briggs - Make Your Place: Affordable & Sustainable Nesting Skills

Robin Wall Kimmerer - Braiding Sweetgrass

Ronald Hutton - The Witch: A History of Fear in Ancient Times

Rosemary Ellen Guiley - The Encyclopaedia of Witches and Witchcraft

Thomas N. Mitchell - Athens: A History of the World's First Democracy

Walter Stephens - Demon Lovers: Witchcraft S3x and the Crisis of Belief

Yvonne P. Chireau - Black Magic: Religion and The African American Conjuring Tradition

PDFs

Anti Defamation League - Hate on Display: Hate Symbols Database

Brandy Williams - White Light, Black Magic: Racism in Esoteric Thought

Cambridge SU Women’s Campaign - How to Spot TERF Ideology 2.0.

Blogs and Websites

Anti Defamation League

B. Ricardo Brown - Until Darwin: Science and the Origins of Race

Dr. S. Deacon Ritterbush - Dr Beachcomb

Folklore Thursday

Freedom of Mind Resource Centre - Steven Hassan’s BITE Model of Authoritarian Control

Institute for Strategic Dialogue

Royal Horticultural Society

The Duchas Project -National Folklore Collection

Vivienne Mackie - Vivscelticconnections

YouTube Videos

ContraPoints - Gender Critical

Emma Thorne Videos - Christian Fundie Says Halloween is SATANIC!

Owen Morgan (Telltale) - The Source Of All Conspiracies: A 1902 Document Called "The Protocols"

The Belief it or Not Podcast - Ep. 40 Satanic Panic, Ep 92. Wicca

Wendigoon - The Conspiracy Theory Iceberg

Other videos I haven't referenced but you may still want to check out

Atun-Shei Films - Ancient Aryans: The History of Crackpot N@zi Archaeology

Belief It Or Not - Ep. 90 - Logical Fallacies

Dragon Talisman - Tarot Documentary (A re-upload of the 1997 documentary Strictly Supernatural: Tarot and Astrology)

Lindsay Ellis - Tracing the Roots of Pop Culture Transphobia

Overly Sarcastic Productions - Miscellaneous Myths Playlist

Owen Morgan (Telltale) - SATANIC PANIC! 90s Video Slanders Satanists | Pagan Invasion Saga | Part 1

ReignBot - How Ouija Boards Became "Evil" | Obscura Archive Ep. 2

Ryan Beard - Demi Lovato Promoted a R4cist Lizard Cult

Super Eyepatch Wolf - The Bizarre World of Fake Psychics, Faith Healers and Mediums

Weird Reads with Emily Louise -The Infamous Hoaxes Iceberg Playlist

Wendigoon - The True Stories of the Warren Hauntings: The Conjuring, Annabelle, Amityville, and Other Encounters

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esoteric-chaos · 6 months ago

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Beltane Masterpost - Spoonie Witch Friendly

Beltane, also called Bealtaine or May Day is celebrated on May 1st in the Northern Hemisphere (November 1st in the Southern Hemisphere). However, some people choose to celebrate the exact halfway point between the Spring Equinox and Summer Solstice.

Beltane is a Gaelic May Day festival. It is traditionally celebrated once the sun sets on April 30th in the Northern Hemisphere (October 31st in the Southern Hemisphere) and continues on until sunset on May 1st.

With Beltane we celebrate fire, fertility and the return of life after its long slumber. Beltane is associated with creativity, prosperity, hope, fertility, and sexuality.

Beltane Correspondences

Colours

Green

Light Blue

Yellow

Purple

Pink

White

Brown

Herbal

Mint

Lemon Balm

Willow

Birch

Snapdragons

Roses

Lilacs

Violets

Daffodils

Daisies

Ivy

Lily of the Valley

Foxglove

Mugwort

and many more

Edibles

Honey

Wine

Lemonade

Strawberries

Spring Greens

Cherries

Dairy Products

Animals

Rabbits

Cows

Sheep

Bees

Robins

Hawks

Frogs

Doves

Crystals, Metals and Minerals

Rose Quartz

Jade

Aventurine

Garnet

Emerald

Tourmaline

Gold

Copper

Symbols

Flowers

Maypole

Fire

Handfasting

Sex

Floral crowns

Seeds

Fae

Wreaths

Ribbons

Spiritual Meanings

Prosperity

Fertility

Self-improvement

Marriage

Cleansing

Love

Lust

Sexuality

Manifestation

Strength

Protection

Scents

Mint

Lemon

Vanilla

Jasmine

Rose

Lilac

Floral

Gods / Goddesses / Spirits

May Queen – (Celtic)

Artemis – (Greek)

Flora - (Roman)

Hera - (Greek)

Persephone - (Greek) UPG

Aphrodite – (Greek)

Diana - (Roman)

Venus (Roman)

Freya - (Norse)

Bast - (Egyptian)

Asmodeus - (Demon) UPG

Herne/ Horned god

Faunus/ Pan – (Greek)

Priapus – (Greek)

Apollon - (Greek)

Apollo - (Roman)

Cernunnos – (Celtic)

Odin – (Norse)

The Green Man

Bacchus - (Greek)

Bes (Egyptian)

Bel – (Celtic)

Oak King - (Pagan)

Need some suggestions to celebrate? I've got you covered.

High-energy celebrations and ritual

Handfasting ceremony (pagan marriage ritual)

Protection ritual

Reworking wards

Sex magic

Bondfire

Divination

Fae offerings

Garden

Low energy celebrations

Growth tarot spread

Creation of flower crowns or garlands

Lighting candles or a fireplace

Microwave mug recipes

No energy celebrations

Rest

Using a sun lamp to bask in

Practicing self-love

Drink flora tea with honey

How you celebrate the holiday does not matter. You can choose to do any activity that feels right. These are only suggestions and remember that you're enough no matter what.

Also, please note some stuff is UPG. A great book is Year of the Witch by Temperance Alden, which honours the celebrations and if you want to work more seasonally. It's not Wiccan-based and has plenty of resources for every witch.

Feel free to post how you celebrate in the comments or reblogs!

Want to see more of my posts? Check out my Wheel of the Year Masterpost or my Main Masterpost.

Sources:

#witchcraft #witch #electic witch #witchblr #spoonie witch #paganism #wheel of the year #beltane #spoonie magic #may day #beltane masterpost #beltane correspondences #spoonie witchcraft #spoonie #chronic illness magic

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knickynoo · 15 days ago

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Back to the Future Part III, The Novel by Craig Shaw Gardner: Thoughts, commentary, and general ramblings

Part 3: Maggie and Seamus experience the most confusing evening of their entire lives

previous posts here

• So, last we left dear Martin, he had just tumbled down the cliffside, bonked his head, and was fantasizing about closing his eyes and never having to walk around in the Old West ever again. Very concerning stuff. But no worries! Not even his third serious concussion of the series can keep Marty down for long.

• He wakes up at the McFly Farm with Maggie speaking to him, and there’s this really sweet moment where it says, “Marty let out a sigh of relief. His mother’s voice made everything seem safe and sound.” He is a little confused about the Irish accent, though, but decides, “It probably had something to do with his fever.”

• That’s another thing. There are two mentions in the opening paragraphs noting Marty has a fever, which isn’t something I ever got a sense of in the movie. I always just assumed the cold cloth was because he’d hit his head and it was all she could think to do to try to help him and wake him up. This is an interesting revelation.

• Maggie hands him a steaming cup of some concoction she says will perk him up and bring down his apparent fever. Marty’s happy to accept what he thinks is an old fashioned herbal tea and takes a sip. “It wasn’t tea. He almost gagged. He felt like his eyes were going to leap out of his head. This stuff must be a hundred proof!” As soon as Maggie leaves the room to tend to William, Marty decides he doesn’t have time to get drunk and abandons the drink.

• Maggie hands William to Marty, and Marty is concerned because he doesn’t know how to hold a baby. Which is another interesting tidbit because we know Marty’s got a big family, at least on Lorraine’s side. I’m sure he's got lots of cousins who are much younger, so it's surprising that he wouldn’t be familiar with handling babies. Curious…

• During dinner, Seamus asks Marty what his “trade” is, and Marty has no clue what that word means. I’m going to blame the head injury for this. Seamus goes on to say, “By the condition of your hands, it’s clear that you ain’t a farmer or a lumberman or a miner. I’ve only seen hands like that on a gambler or a baby, and sure’n you ain’t no baby.”

Obsessed with that entire statement. Marty’s got dainty, delicate little hands and Seamus wants ANSWERS. Has he unknowingly taken a gambler into his home??

• Marty replies by saying he’s still in school, which is not the right thing to say since it was super weird back then for someone as old as Marty to still be getting an education (unless you were very wealthy and could afford college). Maggie and Seamus continue to be baffled.

• Marty changes the topic to asking them about Ireland, and Seamus says they’re from “Ballybowhill,” which I cannot find any evidence of being a real place. I found a Ballyhahill and a Ballyboghil and a Ballyboughal. So, I assume this was a typo? Anyone know? It’s cool to have that detail of exactly where they came from, though.

• Marty desperately has to use the bathroom, and he has SUCH A TIME trying to figure out how to ask where it is. Seamus and Maggie just have no clue what this “bathroom” is that this strange young man is talking about, and Marty doesn’t know any of the terms used at the time. (He doesn’t know the word outhouse?? Has this kid never seen an episode of “Little House on the Prairie??”)

• After some difficulty, they get it sorted and Marty scurries outside. The following text sums up how Seamus and Maggie are feeling nicely.

“Oh, dear. This was troublesome. They were good Christian folk and all, but perhaps, this time, their generosity had gone too far.”

• Maggie then says that it’s obvious Marty is “feeble-minded,” which is the old timey term for someone with an intellectual disability. She’s very concerned about the whole situation and how they’re going to handle it.

Seamus—kind, sweet Seamus—agrees that, yes, Marty is a bit off, but he’s got a feeling about the boy. They have to look after and take care of him, and his words put Maggie at ease. She decides that even though Marty is “simple”, he doesn’t seem like the type to cause any harm to them.

• Meanwhile, Marty runs from the outhouse in a state of horror and returns to the farmhouse to ask for directions into town. After some more confusion and blank stares from Seamus and Maggie, who are very concerned that Marty doesn’t seem to understand the concept of nighttime or danger, they convince him to wait until the morning. Seamus tells him it’s only FOURTEEN MILES to town.

Seamus takes him to the railroad tracks, and Marty has 6 miles to walk from there. Average walking speed is 3-4 miles, but keep in mind this is unpaved, gravelly terrain and under the hot sun, so let’s say Marty managed 2 mph. That’d be a 3 hour walk into town. Which is ridiculous and makes me all the more upset that Marty can’t get his ice water when he arrives at the saloon. Kid needs a Gatorade. That’s it for now. Hope things get better for Marty soon!! (They won’t!!)

#back to the future #bttf #marty mcfly #bttf iii: the novel

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georgiapeach30513 · 2 years ago

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A Little at a Time, Part 5

Summary: you can’t quit running into Andy

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut, unprotected sex, PIV sex, loss of virginity, blood, mentions of cheating, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 8.5K

Series Masterlist

*dividers by @firefly-graphics

“Uh,” you look over the lengthy menu of the coffee shop. It was more than just a K Cup and CoffeeMate. The menu was extensive, and you just wanted coffee. Exactly how hard was this supposed to be? “Well, what would you suggest?”

The girl slumps her shoulders staring at you. “Coffee.”

“Oh, I, um…I like caramel, and…I prefer creamy coffee. Not too sweet. Mamaw always says you’ll rot your teeth if it’s too sweet. Which she always likes drinking sweet tea all day.”

“What kind of coffee do you want?” The girl says shortly. She definitely wasn’t making this process easier, and still you apologize to her for the inconvenience, and being too dumb to figure out what coffee you wanted.

“Candace!” Another girl steps up behind her. “Please go make yourself useful and make some cold brew. Sorry. She’s…well, she’s just blunt. With very little patience and rarely is up front. Name is Tori. I’m always here. Own the place. What’s the problem sweetheart? Overwhelmed?”

You give her a bit of a nod, and she looks over your body a bit. Smiling as she steps back. “I’m sure you would love some of the seasonal brews, but everybody needs a go to coffee. You look like a caramel girl. Yes?” She was lovely. Much nicer than Candace before her, and it was like she was reading you to determine your perfect drink. “Okay, today, I’m suggesting a caramel macchiato. Don’t be afraid to tell me it doesn’t work. Or are you a tea girl? Judging by that accent I’m guessing it’s the good ole sweet tea, though. You already have the sugar in there?”

“Yeah. Two cups per gallon. I’m more of a one and half cups per gallon, but my Papaw always gives me a side eye. You gotta steep the bags for a long time. Actually I bought me and Mamaw some tea from Ireland, Lyons tea. Have you heard of it?”

“No,” she giggles at you, sliding over a cup of the iced macchiato that another employee had made, and you give it a taste, moaning at how good it was. “I only keep the best beans here. So you’re into hot tea?”

“It’s not terrible. I like a black tea, but herbal tea wasn’t for me. It’s,” she points at a customer behind you, and you raise your cup. Walking over to find a seat. You liked it here. It wasn’t pretentious, and the owner enjoyed having a traditional coffee shop while still trying to have high quality products and trying new things.

You smile, looking out the window. You liked it. You felt comfortable. You pull out a book, casually reading and sipping on your coffee. Settling back in the cozy chair. It smelled amazing here. It was one of the first times you felt comfortable. Apart from any times that the hot Bostonian was around you.

It didn’t make sense that this man you knew very little about had occupied your time so much. How you couldn’t stop thinking about him, and his kind smile. It was like he always appeared just when you needed him. He laughed at appropriate times, and not at you. Cole always seemed to talk down to you, and you had known him for years.

You hang your head down low, wondering why you had ever forced yourself to continue in that relationship. It was comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. You had made yourself believe that was all you were going to be good enough for, and yet he still made you too uncomfortable to ever be truly intimate with him. Every time you were intimate it was always him initiating it. You sniffle, refusing to let yourself cry another damn tear for Cole Turner. He wasn’t worth it.

Andy steps up to the counter, getting a quick head nod from Tori who was already making his regular brew while he scans the shoppe. Landing directly at a table for two with you alone, and one cup on the table. You looked zoned out while reading a book. Mostly touching your hair, or rubbing the bridge of your nose. Not paying any mind to anything around you.

“How long has she been here?” He asks Tori, who smiles at him. “What?”

“She’s a pretty girl. A bit overwhelmed with coffee. Talks a lot. Not from around here,” Andy nods his head, confused as to what point she was trying to make. “She’s probably just visiting. Why waste your time?”

“She’s not just visiting. She’s living here with a cousin,” his eyes go back to you, and you were none the wiser. He was able to actually look at you. You didn’t seem miserable to be here. You were at peace. “I’m going to talk to her.”

“Uh-huh. Is that all?” Andy offers a smile as a response. Grabbing his coffee to walk over to your table.

He stares at your expression, trying to get a better read on you. Poppy had told him to give you time, but you looked good. Happier than the first time that he had run into you. Definitely happier than when you were at the bar. Clearing his throat, you look up at him. With the biggest and prettiest smile, “This seat taken?”

“Oh, lord, yeah…I mean, no. Yeah, sit down. Sorry,” you bashfully laugh, trying to control your breathing. “You like coffee? I mean, of course you do. Unless that’s tea, is that tea?”

“It’s coffee,” he chuckles, and you have to look away. Biting at your tongue, and wiping your hands on your pants. “You come here often?”

“First time actually. Just a walk down the road. You know that you guys have everything within walking distance?”

“Poppy does because of the apartment. There’s houses further out that don’t. I’m guessing where you’re from, you don’t have that?”

You nearly choke on your coffee, trying to swallow it quickly to answer him. Wiping off the bit that spilled on the cup, and apologizing, “No, there’s a McDonald’s and a Dairy Queen. If you want coffee you pretty much have to make it at home. My Mamaw and Papaw they’re old school with the drip coffee, but I like a Keurig and a milk frother and I think I’m doing something special,” letting out a nervous laugh, you can’t help but to stare into his eyes. They were beautiful. That overflowing feeling of kindness and comfort warming you up.

“So what is it that you do Andy?”

“I’m the assistant district attorney, and you?”

“I taught pre-k. Nothing quite as glamorous as you. I put in an application at the daycare. I haven’t heard back from them though. I really need to find a job. I’d prefer not to go through all my savings, and I was blowing through a lot with the food delivery.”

“I think working with children is quite admirable. It can’t be easy,” you shake your head no, starting to giggle. Why were you like this? You never could have an easy conversation, but with Andy it was different. You weren’t trying to be anybody, but yourself.. “Does working with kids make you want them, or make you want to stay far away from them?”

“I’ve always wanted kids. Having a child or two is different than having twenty or more four year olds in one classroom. But they’re just little people, you know? They have their good days and bad days. They’re still learning right from wrong. Being introduced to other kids their own age that have been raised differently. They’re trying to control their big emotions in these little bitty bodies. Kids don’t confuse me. Adults do.”

“Hmm,” Andy had never thought about it quite like that. It made perfect sense. By the time people were adults they should know right from wrong. Should know that cheating on your husband was very wrong. “So…why Boston?”

“My cousin Poppy. I didn’t want to be in a small town around people who spread false gossip around like a bowl of tater salad at a cookout. You have the luxury of not everyone knowing your business here. I know that your inner circle may know, and some outside of that. But imagine going to a grocery store and people commenting about your relationship. Or finding out the immense amount of people that he was cheating on you with. You start questioning maybe I did something wrong, or maybe if I would have done this. But the fact of the matter is he wasn’t a good person, and he didn’t deserve me, and doesn’t deserve the friendship of his best friend. Yeah, he told the town I was sleeping with his best friend. I still don’t understand why he started that.”

“Wow,” you shared too much. Whatever this was is completely squashed because you shared too much. “He sounds like an asshole. How long do you think he was cheating?”

“Too long for me to stay with him. Out of sight out of mind. Figured it would eventually stop. Made excuses that my mind was running all these crazy scenarios only for those crazy scenarios to actually be true. So I’m the idiot.”

“He came home every night?” You give him a shrug, and Andy isn’t sure what to think. Did you really not care, or was there something more?

“I didn’t live with him. He is a cop and had weird hours. I hate being in a house alone. I stayed with him a lot, but lived with my grandparents. Pretty sure a lot of his cheating was while he was working.”

Andy hated this man and he didn’t even know his name, “So…he was engaging in sexual activity while in uniform?”

“He was engaged in sexual activity as a payment to get out of tickets. So I’ve been told. Nobody could tell me while I was engaged. But they like to talk now.”

“That’s illegal. Bribery is not just frowned upon, but is illegal an punishable. I’m sorry. I know, I didn’t do it, but…on the behalf of mankind that does not cheat, and will value a woman’s worth, I apologize. Not all men are like that, so I don’t want you to walk around here thinking that we are. Some are just bad. They’re going to cheat. Women, too. I don’t judge future women for what my ex wife did. That isn’t fair to me, and most certainly not you…uh…other women.”

You catch it, and Andy is fully aware that you caught it. He noticed your eyes light up at the comment, and he starts to relax more. He was hoping you would pick up on the fact that he was interested. Very interested. He would never treat you the way that Cole did. He would want to come home to you every night. “So you didn’t move in with him just because his work schedule?”

“There’s many reasons. I didn’t want to live with someone before marriage, but then I would stay days at a time. It was nice, but there was always something, you know? Something that never felt just right with Cole, and I think subconsciously I knew there was something wrong, so that’s why I never moved in. Even my Papaw wasn’t the biggest fan, he would talk to anybody. He just sat there and stared at things when Cole was around, and never looked in his eyes. That’s a big thing for Papaw. Mamaw…she’s your typical southern woman. She just wants to stuff food in your mouth and hear your flattery. But even she asked me so many times if I really wanted to marry him. I was so far in, I felt like I had to. He proposed, so I said yes. I’ve always allowed people to tell me what I need to do, including not living with someone I wasn’t married to.”

It made sense. This Cole, that Andy was definitely going to be digging more into, had used your obedience and people pleasing nature to shift things in his favor. He knew men just like Cole, and he couldn’t stand them. Here was this sweet woman who was this angelic little ball of radiance. You were personable, even if you overshared a bit. You were eager to make friends, or at least with him. You adapted to your surroundings, and Cole took advantage of that.

He sits across from you, listening to you talk about your hometown, and home life. Poppy was never quite this forthcoming. Choosing more to forget where she came from, but you spoke of this place like it was what shaped you into who you were, and you were proud of that fact. There was a fondness when talking about your grandparents especially.

“Wait, your mom?” He asks when you mention her, and you nod your head, finishing up the coffee, “How does she fit in your life?”

“Oh, that always confuses people. She’s the mayor of the town. When my dad passed, she put everything into her political life, and had no room to take care of me. I moved in with Mamaw and Papaw, and she comes by at least once a week, but she didn’t raise me. I think it was too hard for her. I remind her of my dad. And I don’t have daddy issues. Cole seemed to think I did. No, Papaw was a good father figure for me. He took me fishing, taught me how to play string instruments, even though neither of us can read music. He came to every one of my basketball games, or t-ball. He was always present, always steady. I don’t remember my dad, but I remember every time that my Papaw was there for me. He’d burn the world down if it meant protecting me. I became his other daughter.”

“I didn’t think you had daddy issues, Papaw sounds like a good man. Which string instruments?”

“Uhh…the only thing I’m not great at is the banjo. All those finger picks. Mandolin is my favorite. I can play a fiddle. Papaw used to help me with the stand up bass. I couldn’t hold it on my own. Guitar is his favorite though. They did these picking nights. Yes, in the south some people pick on their front porch, this is a real thing. Mamaw can’t play, but she has this big beautiful church voice, you know? The one that doesn’t need a microphone. You feel her words in your gut. It’s beautiful. Deep and rich. I don’t hate my childhood or my mother’s need to have someone else raise me. I had a good life. My Papaw, he had this thing for buying weird animals. We had these peacocks that roamed around the yard for awhile, and there was a buffalo. He was old and they were going to put him down, but Papaw wanted him to live his last days roaming in a pasture with a bunch of cows.”

“Peacocks randomly walking around your yard. Sounds…interesting. So you lived on a farm?” You shake your head no, and now Andy was even more confused. “A pasture of cows?”

“Oh, that was my Papaw’s brother. The cows were Uncle Sonny’s, but the pasture touched our driveway. Papaw talked to the cows. And of course Barry the buffalo,” you were fascinating. He could sit and talk to you for hours. Your face is so animated with every bit of information you give him, and he just couldn’t learn enough. “We always had a ton of mutt dogs. And they had official names, but Papaw seriously called them whatever name he could think of at that moment. Peanut and Snickers were his favorite names. There was a cat, but she was a useless thing. A few chickens, but he only bought them because they looked cool. There was a goat in the pasture, and Papaw called him Satan. Swore that ugly thing was the devil himself. He just randomly appeared on the porch making a mess of things, or would be on the hood of his truck.”

“Satan makes sense,” you continue talking to Andy, and he listens to every bit. It was like reading something completely made up. It was crazy to think people had grown up like this. You were able to run around completely unattended and barefoot creating stories of far off adventures, and eat apples with peacocks.

You were able to walk down this country dirt road and explore all day long. There was this sense of innocence to you, that he couldn’t place, but with a quick glance at his watch seeing the hours that had passed, he didn’t want this to end.

“Oh, lord, I am so sorry. I could seriously talk the horns off a goat. I’m sure you had something you needed to do. I just sometimes forget all that part of my life. It’s nice to relive my childhood.”

“You’re fine, honestly,” adorable is what you are. From the way you talked right down to your sweet accent, you were adorable. “I’ve loved this. I, uh…I don’t want to seem forward or anything, but I would like to continue this. Over drinks or something?”

“Wait…are you talking about a date?”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, but it doesn’t have to be something like that at all. It can be two people who enjoy talking, and someone wanting to show another someone the city of Boston.”

“No!” Andy laughs when you practically shout at him. You wanted to explore something more romantic. This was nice, but Cole never wanted to date. It was always wanting to get you home, and hoping that with enough making out you would actually have sex with him. He had fallen in love with your body, but not your mind. “I would love to go on a date with you.”

“Okay. So…uh, Friday night at seven work? Poppy’s bar? It doesn’t get rowdy until around nine. Nobody is eating food and everyone is drinking at that time, but I promise the food is amazing.”

“Okay. Yeah. Yes…yes, Andy, I think dinner sounds lovely. Seven? Friday? I can do that.”

“I look forward to it,” it was a quick motion, but he lays his hand over top of yours, and you can’t help but to preen up at him. Andy takes a quick look at your beaming face, having to say goodbye again, because his heart was fluttering. It felt like a school age crush all over again.

“Poppy!” Your cousin runs into the bedroom that you had been occupying, and immediately starts laughing. “Help.”

“Where are you going on a Friday night? I’m off tonight, I thought we were going to…Peach Blossom, this is date clothes.”

“Yep,” you agree, pulling something else out of the closet, before tossing it on the bed. “Help me.”

Poppy cocks her hip to the side, looking you up and down. Gauging your demeanor to see if you looked uncomfortable or just nervous, and then back to the clothes. A new pink Victoria’s Secret bag on the opposite of the floor. When you catch her looking, you slide it closer to the bed, hoping she didn’t actually see what she thinks she saw.

“Who?”

“Uh, don’t hate me. But you know that guy I kept telling you I was running into?” Smiling, she nods her head, “Well, his name is Andy.”

“Andy what?”

“Um…I didn’t get that part, but he’s the assistant district attorney, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find, right? Anyways.”

“Did you actually check? I mean, is there an Andy that’s the ADA?” You shake your head no, starting to reach for your phone. “I mean, how do we know anything this man has ever said? What if it’s all a lie?” She was right. How did you know? How did you know anything? You had seen this man at a grocery store twice and at a coffee shop.

“Well…I shouldn’t go on the date then?” Poppy wants to keep the charade up a little bit longer, but the look in your eyes when you start to think about canceling was almost hurting her darkened heart. It was a look she hadn’t ever seen you make when talking about someone you were engaged to. “But…he seems really nice. He was just recently divorced. And we were at the coffee shop for about four hours talking.”

“You talked to that man for four hours? About what?”

“Things. Life things. Like growing up in Georgia, and…Poppy, I really like him. If I can prove that he is in fact an ADA do you think, honestly, that it would be okay? Like surely if he works for the government he wouldn’t kill me right? Or…Poppy!” You scream at her when she starts laughing. She always had an easier time talking to men. She exuded sex appeal. Was a natural flirt with the prettiest lashes, puffy lips, even beauty marks that looked faked.

“Andy Barber is in fact the ADA, you’re fine.”

“You…you know him?” You ask, slinging a shirt at her. “You know this man, and you made me have second thoughts, because I felt he was going to kill me? You’re…you’re mean.”

“Ooh, shot to my heart. And you’re naive. I just want you to be careful. Your track record of one boyfriend and one fiancé, and they’re both the same person just doesn’t do you any favors, but,” her fingers begin lifting up different pieces of your clothing, before pairing the perfect outfit for you, “Andy is genuinely a good guy. He comes to the bar sometimes. Came a lot after divorcing Laurie. That’s how we met. He helped me out with my…well, he helped me press charges, and…this isn’t the time to talk about this because you have a date. And he’s a good man. He was there the night you were at the bar asking about you.”

“And you led me on like that? I can’t believe you, we’re supposed to be cousins and friends. I really like him. Like I like him more than I ever liked…Pops, can I be honest with you?”

“Does it have something to do with that bag of what I’m assuming is new lingerie?” You hate to admit it, but there was no denying the fact that you had bought lingerie just for this evening. It wasn’t overly revealing, and should things not work out, you could still see yourself wearing it. “Can we openly talk about yours and Cole’s relationship?” You nod your head, knowing that eventually this was going to come up. “What happened?”

“When we started dating, I did have that whole save yourself for marriage mentality because that’s what the pastor said. That continued, but then…the first time he touched me I liked it. But he scared me. Not like he ever hurt me, but I didn’t trust myself with him. He always wanted things to move so fast, and never wanted to just talk and get to know each other, and then it got to the point of me saying, well, I’ve already done this, might as well do more, but I never wanted to have sex with him. He wasn’t special enough.”

“But you were willing to marry him? Got that big fancy dress.”

“His mom insisted on that dress. But…I don’t know if I ever wanted to give him that part of me. It was like in the back of my head he never thought I was that special. I fit his idea of a wife. I would look good as the future sheriff’s wife. But I think we were two people that were just going through the motions.”

“And you think Andy is that person?” The big questions. You weren’t positive by any means, but positive enough to get something nice for the occasion.

“I don’t know. What I do know is I have talked to Andy more in the few hours we’ve been together than the three years Cole and I were together. I don’t know if Cole ever listened to me. If he did he would have made me feel comfortable around him. He always wanted to push my boundaries. Always wanted pictures, or videos, and I just wanted to talk. He only wanted to talk if it led to, well you know. With Andy, he listens, I feel comfortable, and I don’t have those reservations. I just want things to happen as they will.”

“I’m not going to give you a curfew, but I want you to at least communicate to me what’s happening. Like if you’re going to his house, tell me. You’re not losing your virginity in this apartment. I’m not listening to that shit. You could do a lot worse than Andy. Hell, you have. Peaches, I envy you,” you didn’t understand where this was coming from, because it was Poppy you had always envied. You wished you had her tenacity and her ability to not take shit off no one.

“You had this charmed life with Mamaw and Papaw. You knew what you wanted, and that was your perfect house with the white picket fence, two to four kids because you didn’t want your kids to be only children. A cute little dog that kept your kids rounded up and happy, and for some unknown reason you like people in power. Like Cole, the police officer, and now Andy. Hell, didn’t you used to have a crush on that one guy that became a fucking lawyer? You have always known what you wanted, and I wanted it all and wanted to try it all. What I’m saying is I see now how you wanted everything perfect, but just remember there’s no such thing. It’s okay to make mistakes, because you will always get back up. You will not let those mistakes drag you down. So go out and make mistakes. Because we’re Jackon’s, we always figure it out.”

“You think Andy is a mistake?”

“I think not going and thinking too much is a mistake. Have fun with Andy. Judging by your bag, have too much fun. If it feels right, it’s right. But don’t rush it either. If you’re having second thoughts, I promise that man ain’t going anywhere. He’ll wait on you,” while you had always been closer to Anna Kate, she always had the ability to agree with you, but Poppy told you what you needed to hear. And you loved her for that. The wild child of the Jackson granddaughters.

“Thanks. I’m going to enjoy myself.”

“You don’t like wine?” Andy asks, laughing when you grimace from the taste. “You liked what I suggested the other day.”

“Can I have that again? I’m sorry that was rude,” you hold the glass up, looking at it, and feeling so bad. “What is this?”

“A merlot. Quit trying to apologize to me, I suggested it, and you tried it. You don’t like it, and that’s fine. What do you normally drink?”

“One old fashioned. I’m honestly not big on drinking. I get…I’m friendly,” he holds a hand up for the waitress, asking for her to bring out two old fashioneds. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“We’re enjoying our food and drinks tonight. So no dry wines for you. Old fashioned, huh? Whiskey. It’s true what they say about southern women.”

“Not always. Poppy likes vodka. My Papaw is the whiskey and bourbon drinker. Mamaw doesn’t drink. You drink what you know. When Poppy, Anna Kate, and I were little we’d sneak to the cellar and get a bottle of Jack Daniels. No, it wasn’t a big wine cellar. It was this creepy underground bunker type thing. You had to walk past this crooked tree. There was this gnarly stick that kept the door closed, but eventually it was a lock because Papaw’s liquor kept going missing. Mamaw said we shouldn’t be drinking, but Papaw gave us the key. We earned a drink after walking past that old shed that had all these pigeons in there and that crooked tree. I always said it was poisoned, and if you touched it you would be cursed.”

“Did you ever touch it?”

“Hell no. I believed that. Didn’t stop us from sneaking down in there. What about your childhood?”

“Single mother. Not much to talk about. I’m more curious about yours. It seems so…almost made up, but I have no doubts you were doing all of this. Lived on a dirt road, never saw cars coming down the road unless they lived down it. It sounds beautiful.”

“You can walk to the house my grandpa grew up in. It’s more a shack than anything. There’s no power lines, because he didn’t grow up with electricity. No running water. It’s falling down now, but that place held magical powers, too. It’s funny the things we take for granted, like being able to bathe when you want to. Being able to take a drink without making sure the buckets were filled with spring water.”

“I’d like to see it someday.”

“I’d like to show you. Sorry,” you answer too quickly, ruining the moment when your foot knocks on Andy’s. “I’m such a clutz.”

“Keep it there,” oh boy. You were feeling things. Feeling things you had never felt for Cole. Things that you had thought you would only feel for your husband, but Andy was proving that all wrong. You were thankful for this tight seating, and Andy’s ability to rub his fingers on your knee.

A surge of heat rushes to your core, and you feel like you can no longer breathe. This was very different with Cole, because you want more. “You okay?” You give Andy a headnod, pepping yourself up to breathe. Just breathe.

“Is it hot in here? Are you hot?” Andy smiles, shaking his head. You were completely flustered, and it made you more adorable. Reaching for a glass of water, you take a big sip, and when his hand starts sliding away, you slam your own hand over his, “No, I like it.”

“Okay.”

“I like it too much,” your eyes go wide with your admission. How was he able to make you feel comfortable, and yet so nervous at the same time? “I hate myself.”

“It’s fine. Come here,” you stand up from your side of the table, moving to sit next to him, and he picks up your hand, placing it over his heart. It was beating out of his chest just like yours. “You’re not the only one, okay? It’s like every time I’m around you, this…this is what I feel.”

“I feel my heart pounding…all over,” you cuss under your breath, because you shouldn’t have told him that. He did not need to know everywhere that you could feel your pulse. Instead of his hand being on your knee it was much higher on your thigh. His thumb caresses your leg, but it stays properly over your skirt.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes. It’s perfectly fine.”

“You should drink your old fashioned. Please, keep talking.”

“And then what happened?” Andy asks, leaning in closer to you. It was getting late, and you could already hear the amount of people that was piling into the bar. But it was just a low hum. The only thing that mattered was Andy beside you. His head starts to tilt, and you rush towards his lips. You didn’t care about that careful build up because your body was aching with a need to touch him.

He slots his mouth against yours, and the kiss was an immediate connection. It seemed silly, but you could feel sparks flying. Lips parting as his tongue slides past your lips, gasping when it touches your own. Your body arches into his, and the hand that has been resting at your side travels up. Far enough up for his thumb to graze over your nipple, and you pull away from him, gasping for air.

“A-A-Andy?” You had to have been drunk off his lips, because what you were thinking in this moment is nowhere near what you normally would, but it felt right. “I don’t wanna stay here anymore.”

“Oh? I’m not quite sure I follow. Did…did I do something wrong?”

“Is there somewhere quiet to go? Like…”

“My place?” You nod your head enthusiastically, and Andy lays down a hundred dollar bill to cover well over the food, drinks, and tip. The two of you standing up, walking hand in hand out to the car.

The further away you get from the bar, the closer you lean into him, but Andy also couldn’t get enough. There was not enough time to touch you like he wanted to. Calculating in his head the amount of time it was going to take to drive you to his house, but he was going to make the most of it.

Every traffic light had him pulling you back in for a kiss. Hating he had to keep his eye on the light, before the two of you would look back out the windshield. His hand that rests on your leg, was dangerously high. He could feel the heat coming off your cunt. Feeling like a furnace that was radiating a blaze of arousal to his hand. You needed relief. He could almost smell how wet you were, and he wanted this night to last on into the morning.

Pulling into the garage, he rushes to your side of the door. Crashing his lips against your own as he struggles to open the door. The two of you hit and knock over too many things off the wall and counter until he stops in the living room. Waiting on you to decide where to go from there. Your chest heaves with a fervent need to have him all over your body, but also wanting to catch your breath.

The couch looks comfortable, so you back him up on it. Letting him fall to the cusions when you ruck up your skirt, and crawl over him. Having to pick up his hands to place on your body, “You’re okay with this?” He asks in between kisses.

“Just touch me,” and he does. He touches you all over. Squeezing and groping. Smoothing over your skin, and before you know it he was sucking bruises on your neck, while your body grinds over him, and you moan at the feeling of his cock growing harder under you. You hate comparing things to Cole, but you had never felt like this.

Andy’s fingers were capable, but still he gives you a moment to decide if you wanted to continue. When he realizes you weren’t objecting, he continues his motions in that spot on your body. Exploring every inch of your supple skin. It isn’t until his finger slides up and down your drenched and brand new panties, that you gasp, stopping your body.

Andy throws both hands up, panting as he stares at you, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I thought…thought that’s where we were going. I’m…I didn’t mean to.”

“No, no, you’re fine,” you smile, slowly rolling your hips on him. “I liked it.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” grabbing the hemline of your blouse, you pull it over your head, and he gets to stare at your pretty little new underwear. It framed your curves perfectly. Andy’s hands slide up and down your thighs, causing your kiss swollen lips to tremble.

“Will you tell me if we’re going too far?”

“Yes.”

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

“So, if I do this,” his hand dips back in between your thighs, letting his thumb rub over your soiled panties. “You like that?” You nod your head, and he slips his hand under the panties. Pulling the gusset out far enough that he was just feeling your slick on the lace. “You’ve made a mess for me.”

When he allows his thumb to touch your skin, your eyes close, rolling back in your head, and you let out a deep pornographic moan. “You like this?”

“Uh…huh,” squeaking out your words when he touches your bundle of nerves. Giving the little pearl flicks. Removing his hand, he circles both around your hips. Readjusting you, and leaning you back so he gets a clear view of your covered and weeping cunt.

Moving aside your panties, he stares at your folds, before looking back up at you. Two fingers push into your warmth, and he stares intently as your jaw goes slack. Your fingers dig into his skin as he scissors into you, “You have a tight little pussy. Are you still doing okay?”

“Andy…Andy,” you whimper his name as he slowly pumps into you. He was getting off on your pleasure, and still you wanted more. “I want you. I want you!” His fingers drive into you faster, curling up. Hitting over your spot over and over until your toes curl. Feelings that you had never felt before. Body tensing up as he works you over. Screaming out his name until your juices were pouring out of you, and you couldn’t focus. The room was blurry and spinning around.

You grab at his wrist, and he stops completely. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Do what?” Andy gives you a devilish smirk. Whoever you were with before did not know how to properly care for you if he could never make you squirt like that. “Peaches, what did you do?”

“I think…oh god, I think I peed. It’s not funny. I’m sorry.”

“Sweetheart, has peeing ever made you feel that good? If it has, I'm very jealous of your bathroom habits. Honey, have you never squirted?” You shake your head no, because your body most definitely had never done that before. “What you did was nothing to apologize about. So…what do you want to do now?”

“You?”

“You want to do me?” Now would be a perfect time to let him know you were a virgin, but you didn’t want him to take things slower. You were committed to it being tonight. You wanted Andy. It felt right. There was nothing even remotely telling you to slow down. He made you feel safe, and made you desire more.

“Yes. In the bed?”

Letting you stand up, he grabs at your hand, leading you into the bedroom, when he turns around to kiss over your sticky skin. Hands behind your back when your bra drops to the floor. Grabbing a handful of your tit, he lets his greedy mouth suck on you. You shimmy out of your skirt, and reach towards his pants. Nervously starting to undo his button. Letting the jeans sink to the floor when you palm his boxer briefs.

His breath comes out labored, and he just rips his button up off while you gaze at the thick cords of muscles that made up his arms and chest. Leading you to the bed when he removes his underwear. You glance down at his thick and heavy cock, and have never wanted nothing more. Staring up at him through your lashes when you back up on the bed. Setting in the center, and stare at Andy. He was a god among men.

Andy reaches into a drawer beside the bed, and pulls out a foil packet. Bringing it to his mouth his teeth clench as he rips it open. Blowing the excess out of his mouth before rolling the latex on his fat cock. Placing his knee on the bed, when he looks at you. Not your body, but you. “You sure?”

“Yes,” you whisper, and he crawls closer to you. Adjusting your legs wider to accommodate him and his broad body. Andy runs his fingers through your slit, changing to bring his tip to tease at your entrance. Watching your face as you nod. Staring at only him when he pushes into your tight channel, making your back arch into him. You wouldn’t cry, and you wouldn’t scream, but he had set you on fire.

“Fuck. Fuck. You’re so fucking tight. Shit. What…this is going to come off rude,” Andy struggles to breathe right along with you. Drawing his hips back, when he shoves himself back in. “Was…fuck…was he that small?” You laugh despite wanting to do other things. Trying not to cry even though it stung like hell. Every movement he made was worse than the one before.

Gripping at his back when he really starts thrusting into you. It stung. There was such a fullness to his girth inside your virginal cunt that it overwhelmed you. Nothing could have prepared you for this. “Andy…Andy.”

“Fucking hell,” he leans up a bit, seeing the tears in your eyes as he slows down. Looking down at where the two of you connect to see his cock wrapped in blood. “Oh my god. What happened? Are you okay? Did I do something?”

“I’m fine. Just keep going.”

“You’re bleeding. Did you start your period? What…?” You lift up to your elbows, horrified. He had you so stretched out. No wonder it was slightly painful. You drop down on the bed, mortified. “What is wrong?”

“I’m a…well, I was, I guess this is official, but I was a…uh, well, you see…you’re my first person. This is the first time. I was a virgin.”

“Oh,” Andy is a bit relieved, and a bit bothered you wouldn’t just tell him. “You…you didn’t think to tell someone? I mean, I just assumed. You said you stayed for days with deputy douche bag, and you never had sex?” You shake your head no, still covering your eyes. You couldn’t look at him. “Why? And please, just look at me. I’m inside you, I don’t think things get more intimate than this.”

You slowly let your hands fall to the bed below, looking up at Andy. Things weren’t feeling quite so uncomfortable anymore. Your pussy was adjusting to his width, and you were beginning to love the way the pressure felt, and even more how close he was to you. This was awkward, and still so very right. Even as he starts to pull out, you hold onto him, “Please don’t. I wanted to wait for marriage.”

“Okay, this…this doesn’t make me feel good.”

“No. With him. I went in thinking that’s what I should do, but all those years later, I still never felt comfortable enough to actually have sex. I was beginning to even dread the wedding night. I was using the excuse of waiting until marriage, because I didn’t want to fuck him. But with you…Andy, I wanted this. I wanted you. I’m not saying we have to get married. I’m saying I wanted this. I wanted you, and I wanted you to have this. I felt more comfortable with you than with someone who I had slept with, not sex, but slept beside, and held. I just didn’t want to have sex with him. I didn’t trust him.”

“If you would have told me…”

“You would have made me wait,” he shakes his head no, smiling down at you. You were completely right. He would have made you wait. He would have enjoyed taking you apart slowly. “Yeah, you would. You’re that kind of a guy. One date wouldn’t have been a long enough time.”

“I could have taken time with you. I could have used my fingers to stretch you out a bit more. I could have taken the time, and kissed on you a bit more, tasted you. Slid into you slower, or hell I don’t even know, realize what I had laying in my bed. You deserve more than you were given and if that jackass ever pushed you and made you feel like he was owed this, I’m sorry, but I think you deserve more than I just gave you, too.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not mad. This wasn’t some romance movie moment, but tonight has been the best night of my life. I came home with you because I like talking to you, and I like the way you make my body feel. I came home with you thinking that just making out would be plenty, but I did want this. I like the way you make me feel, yes, but I love the way you treat me. I barely know you, and still feel like I’ve known you my whole life. I don’t regret tonight. No part of it, maybe the not telling you part. But this feels nice, no?”

“This feels a lot better than nice. I just wish…”

“I don’t need a bed of roses because those wither away.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“It's a country song, anyways, I want you. And this moment. I want you to fuck…make love…have sex, whatever to call it. I want to feel you all over my body. Please…please just — I want this Andy, I want to feel you take control over my body,,” with a deep breath, Andy slowly pulls himself out of you, and slowly sinks back in. “Andy, are you clean?”

“Yeah.”

“So am I. Just don’t come in me.”

“You say that now,” he whispers, pulling himself completely out of you. Looking at your tight but gaping hole. He pulls off the condom, touching his tip at your entrance with a moan. “I do not care what you say or beg of me I will not put my cum in you, and I mean that.”

“Okay. Just…holy shit,” hands on his back, you scratch down the muscled skin as he pushes through your entrance. This was such a different feeling. Skin on skin. Everything became more sensitive, more intimate. And he doesn’t stop until he is fully sheathed into your wet heat. Settling his weight over you. Using his fingers to push back your hair as he starts a slow and steady pumps.

“Uh…uh,” a round of whimpering squeaks exit your mouth, and you want to close your eyes, and want to keep staring up at him. “Andy…An — dy.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore.”

“And it feels good?”

“So good. So — good. Oh!” He picks up the pace. It had been so long since he had someone like this. He couldn’t remember when he was able to fully feel what they felt like from the inside. He never trusted Laurie. But you were freely giving him every part of you. Every part of you was gripping him tightly; hand on his back, legs around his waist, and your cunt was making it hard to breathe. You were perfect.

He would have made you wait. You deserved that, but this was better than he could have imagined. Your perfect little whimpers, and the way your nails dig into his skin when he hits a certain spot just. Right. There. Lifting your back off the bed, you and him were so close, and fused together.

“Yeah. Yeah, you like the way I make you feel, huh?”

“Uh-huh. Andy…”

“You wanna try being on top? From behind?” You shake your head no, you didn’t want Andy to leave you for any second. “Okay, just this once. You’re gonna have to be a good girl and try other positions eventually, okay?”

“Okay. Andy…Andy. I’m…”

“Trust me, I can fucking tell. You’re doing such a good job. Have you stretched out and full of me. Got you right….right…right…fucking — there,” your cunt clenches down tight. Too tight for Andy to even move. He lets you ride out your high. Your eyes were deep dark pools of lust as you gaze owlishly up at him. Still panting with tears leaking out of your eyes as he pulls completely out of you. Wrapping his hand around his girth, fisting himself before spurting his thick cream up your stomach.

Giving a glance down to your ruined cunt when he rubs over your sensitive bean, “How are you feeling?”

“Overwhelmed,” Andy stares up at his spend laying on your body before gathering it up. Rubbing your clit with the mess, and you sit up. Moaning at his motions, but also everything else, “What…Andy, what are you doing?”

“Sperm dies outside of the body in about two minutes.”

“Do you always do this?” He shakes his head no, and he wasn’t lying. He had never wanted to see his spunk leak out of anyone more than you. Had never yearned to see someone’s cum mix with his own. “Do you want me to go home?”

“I’d prefer you stayed right there. I need to take care of you. Clean you up. Make sure you rehydrate. Snuggle you. Smell you.”

“And have sex again later?”

“No. We’ll do this again,” he slaps at your pussy before standing up, and waddling to the bathroom. “You’ll need a moment to rest.”

“We could try?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m interested in just a tight pussy. Tomorrow, breakfast in bed. We’ll go to the park or something. Watch a movie. Doesn’t matter. Just…” he walks back into the bedroom with a warm washcloth. Pressing it up against your tender sex, and moving up to wipe himself off you. “We can just enjoy each other.”

“But I want to have sex with you again,” you beg, tears forming in your eyes. You were going to be trouble. Your legs were still spread as if he was laying in between them. Your hole was spread so wide, but it was those pouting eyes. You had fully trusted him, and was pleading for more. Your pussy showed the signs of him having been seated so deep inside of you.

And it was like you wanted him to have a front row seat to view it. He doubted you were quite as cunning as that. There was still this confusion of not knowing of what to do. Judging by your conversations, you wanted the same things that Andy wanted out of life. Essentially a perfect match.

Andy had to remember that the two of you were still new. He didn’t want to jump in too deep into this relationship, but he could see something becoming more real. He did not feel things this passionately with Laurie. Didn’t have this strong desire to protect her, stay with her, and dote on her like he did you. She didn’t even want kids. Lied to him from the beginning about that.

You sigh softly, curling into his chest, and he holds you so tight. He should have known the second he pushed through your entrance that you were a virgin. The shock on your face, and biting at your lip as your eyes fill with tears. You were something he hadn’t felt before. Petting his hands up and down your back, he knows he could keep you like this forever.

“Andy, I don’t believe in dating around.”

“Don’t worry,” he takes a deep gulp. “I’ve only got time for one person, and she’s laying in my arms,” there was a soft giggle that vibrates his chest, and he pulls you even closer to him. He is sure there would be hell to pay with Poppy tomorrow, but right now, he just wanted to bask in the loss of your innocence glow. The way you randomly kissed over his chest, and your fingers tickle his belly. He could get used to this. He never wanted you to leave. He knew he needed to chill, but he was also going to let you decide what you wanted to do, and it did not appear that you wanted to be anywhere but in his arms. And he was not complaining.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @softsatnin @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @kittycatcait219 @sarahdonald87 @patzammit @elrw24 @redbloodedgurl @cjand10 @calwitch @sebsgirl71479

#a little at a time #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x fem!reader #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x you #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber fics #andy barber fic #andy barber smut #chris evans #defending jacob

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herbsbyasta · 2 years ago

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If you're looking for Irish nutritional diet food. Foods and beverages that are nutrient-rich give your body the energy and nutrients it needs to maintain and improve its health, lower its risk of contracting diseases, and lengthen its life span. Visit our website right away for additional details!

#iridology #iris diagnosis #master herbalist #nutritional diet #herbalism ireland #nutritionist #medical herbalist

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balladofthewhitehorse · 10 months ago

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What type of gifts does England prefer getting people? does he leave it last minute or do it weeks in advance? Does he even get people gifts at all? Does he even have anyone to give gifts to?

Although he may not look like it, England can be very sentimental. The odd workplace gift or secret Santa article that he’s forced to participate in for the good of the team that he often finds himself in service to are often vouchers or very shallow, basic gifts of some sort of biscuit tin or chocolate box. When the effort is made and the gift is willing, entirely of his own volition, it tends to take on a different and more meaningful form; England knows very well what his siblings like and what their hobbies are, remembering it even after centuries of constant fighting with them. He knows Wales likes birdsong and herbal tea, that Scotland prefers books and fishing and beetle collections. He knows Northern Ireland prefers video games to old artefacts (though England has noted, a thread of connection that runs through his eyes, to rest his hand on a centuries old tome - and to be reminded he is not just a fracture, a broken bit of glass left behind). Ireland too, is another name in England’s long memory of likes and dislikes - and he makes the effort sometimes, when he can be bothered with the effort of contacting her, of exchanging pleasantries with a thin veneer.

She likes woollen goods and kitchen appliances.

England isn’t a selfless or generous person by any means, but he’s efficient. Most gifts are brought ahead of time, hidden somewhere in his house. It’s whether or not he can remember where he left it is the key thing. He notices things, picks things up like a magpie - although one would remark he is more like a squirrel with the way that he stashes things for later and then forgets where he left it. As such, he buys gifts ahead of time - and gives them just in the nick of time, when he remembers that someone’s birthday or some other such occasion is coming up. He likes to do things well - however, and when he cares deeply, England is known to hunt down something of value to that person. Some have started rumours that when Portugal briefly mentioned this old map from long ago, England nearly turned entire libraries, archives, museums and universities upside down in keen search for it; England was not available for comment on this. In terms of who he generally gives gifts too, England usually gives gifts to his family first and foremost. Portugal as well. I think the most unexpected is the rare or out-of-blue gift that he will send to France; Complicated feelings exist between them these days and England remembers way back when, eons and eons ago when he considered France family - and vice versa.

#hws england #hws france #hws scotland #hws wales #hws portugal #hws ireland #hws northern ireland

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ohwynne · 5 months ago

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TIMING: After Wynne returned from Ireland LOCATION: Wynne's tiny home. PARTIES: @vanoincidence & @ohwynne SUMMARY: Wynne and Van have tea and talk about demons. CONTENT WARNING: N/A

The kettle whistled but it sounded to Wynne like a banshee screaming. Many things did. A creaking door, a howl of the wind, a beep of a phone. Their mind had become a tricky thing once more, memories leaking through as if they were a dripping faucet that never properly closed. Drip, drip, drip. Declan’s body. Elias’ blood. Regan passed out in the car. Drip, drip, drip. Jac dying at the altar. Padrig's guts ripped out. Their skirt getting caught in brambles as they ran.

They turned off the gas. The screaming stopped. They poured the hot water in two cups, moved over to Van and placed one in front of them. On the kitchen table stood a box with various bags of tea. Usually they’d try to make something fresh and herbal, but they didn’t have the energy, so dried tea it was.

Wynne sat with their legs pulled up, knees against the table. “I have … cookies somewhere. If you want.” They glanced at the table, wanted to lay their head on it and stare at the wall. They were so very tired. But Van was here and they had things to talk about. Big things. Rhiannon jumped on the table and they stroked his thick orange fur. “Yeah. You know.” They weren’t sure what they were saying. Nora wasn’t home, still. Everything was bad, still. “Sorry about the cat hairs.”

Van knew that Wynne had come home, but until she saw them, she wouldn’t feel satisfied with the statement. I’m home could mean a lot of things. It could mean what it meant to Nora who said she was coming home, but left soon after. Until Van saw Wynne, she wouldn’t feel settled, and even after she arrived at their front door, she still felt sick to her stomach over what had happened.

Van had hugged Wynne, something she never did. She didn’t really like physical contact, not in the way most people meant it. But it was purposeful, the way she had wrapped her arms around them, and the way she had let herself be directed inside.

She sat across from Wynne now, hands in her lap as they brought the water to a boil. It felt like she was being rattled inside, too. The lip of the pot bouncing as the water grew hotter and hotter. She felt like that most days. But the sound stopped, and steam reached just beneath her chin as the mug was pushed forward. She looked at the array of tea bags, opting for mint.

“I ate like, a ton before coming.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie, but not necessarily the truth. “Maybe we can uh, do cookies later or something.” Van looked up to meet Wynne’s gaze, thoughts whirring in one place, the topic of demons, banshees, Nora, and Declan all creating something vicious out of what wasn’t typically peaceful, but calmer. “No, I like them. I mean, I don’t like, go out of my way to get covered in cat hairs, but…” She cleared her throat. “You can sleep, you know. We can um– I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Okay was such a fucked up word, wasn’t it? “I thought that maybe…” She shrugged, “I was worried.”

The air was thick. Not with the oncoming summer or the threat of rain or pollen, but with unspoken things. There was a conversation to be had at this table, on this day, over these mugs of tea — there were veils to lift and things to confess. Wynne’s was tight with the anticipation of it, the knowledge that Van and them would grow closer through honesty but that they’d have to bare themself, too.

It might have been easier to do this over text, but it was better not to. They knew that. They were tired, anyway, of conveying ugly truths through messages on a screen. It was just hard to put these things to words. To know when they could stop talking about tea and cat hairs and food. When the conversation shifted. They hoped it’d just happen, that they wouldn’t have to awkwardly maneuvre the chit-chat into a Conversation.

They plucked a bag of tea from the container without looking, dropping it in. Their appetite hadn’t returned yet, even if they had. Besides, they only bought tea they liked anyway. “Oh, yeah, sounds good.” A few weeks ago they would have had freshly baked cookies. It has been hard to cook, though. They didn't like holding the knife.

“And no, it's okay, I need to try and sleep in the night, you know? Jet lag, or something. I don't get it but it's annoying.” They stared at their mug as Van worried, watching steam rise and curl. They wanted to be like that. “I’m here. That's what I care about most. That that's over. And that I'm also not … in my old home any more. I guess we should talk. Right? How do you… do that?” They pressed a hand against their forehead. “I mean I know how to talk. Obviously. Just… it's hard.”

“I’ve only ever been like, one timezone back, so I don’t think I ever got jet lag from that.” Exhaustion after travel looked different on everyone, and she knew that there were a lot more things than just air time plaguing Wynne. Van looked down at her tea as the color from the sachet bloomed through the water– something not quite true green bled through. It felt like she was looking at her insides.

She looked up at Wynne as they began to speak, eyebrows furrowing slightly in response to the non-questions that came through to meet in the middle. “Do… what? Talk? I just sorta open my mouth.” A harsh laugh left Van as she tried to push the unease away. She shook her head a moment later, pressing her index finger against the hot mug. It burned, but it was a reminder that she was here across from Wynne and that she couldn’t get lost to the whirring inside of her mind. She retracted her finger after a few seconds, drawing her hands back into her lap.

“You mean like, the demon thing, right?” She shrugged, “I don’t… actually know. It happens when I think I’m going to die.” She wasn’t sure if that was totally true given she didn’t think the situation with Diana called for a demon, but it was getting harder to parse through exactly what had happened these days. “But the rest of it, um– the melting, the other stuff… I break glass when I get nervous or upset, too. It’s magic.” The word fell off her tongue like it’d always been there. She had finally garnered a taste for it, and it was a strange thing to behold. “Somebody who– they also do magic, I think? Uh, they called me a summoner. I’ve been looking into it, but…” She twiddled her thumbs beneath the table, nails scraping along the edge of the wooden fixture. “It’s still kind of new? Not really new, but the um, acknowledging thing, I mean.”

They still struggled to even grasp the fact that they had gone and come back from Ireland, that a plane had taken them to a place in a so-called different timezone. Never mind all that had happened in that place. It was strange, to be struck by disbelief while also constantly remembering the things that had happened vividly. Wynne shrugged. “Fair enough. It’s not great. People complain about it like a lot at the airport.”

Van was laughing and they were too, but it wasn’t the way they usually laughed together. There was something morose about it, which was how they felt about things most of the time these days. As if a thick, dark cloak had been laid over everything. “Oh,” they said. “Me too. That’s how I do it too.” It was funny. But it also wasn’t. But it really was. When Wynne laughed again it was a little more sincere.

Van was magic. They’d suspected something like it, considering what had happened to the vampire. But the fact that it had to do with demons made Wynne feel uneasy — they knew there were nice (or at least … kind of nice) demons out there, but they had a feeling those were in the minority. “I … am … it’s good, that you’re acknowledging it more. I can try to help to look into it. Maybe the library can help.” Maybe it was in the restricted section, though. “So the thing … that claw that took the vampire, was that a demon?” They bit their lip. It would be very ironic if it was a demon who had saved them both from the vampire — but then a demon had helped them before. “Do you think planes are held up with magic like yours?” They frowned at their mug. “Um, not important. I just don’t get how they work without magic, so I think it is magic.” They pulled up one leg, placing their foot on the chair. “Demons … are dangerous.”

“I think that’s like, normal, right?” Van relaxed slightly, no longer feeling as though she might dissolve on the spot. There was a lot to be worried about these days, but she didn’t want to project that onto Wynne. They already had enough to deal with. “To talk with your mouth. I mean, I guess you could talk with other things, but…” She shrugged. Now wasn’t the time to get stuck on the logistics of how to talk in other ways.

She tried to not let Wynne’s expression deter her from continuing on with her explanation. “I’m a little worried that looking into it will like, make people look into me, you know?” If there were hunters for things like werewolves and undead, then who was to say there wasn’t a hunter for what she was, either? Maybe it was self-involved to think that, but she couldn’t be too sure. This world was still new to her. “But, um…” Did Wynne know that Teddy also possessed magic? She didn’t want to out them, so she didn’t bring them up by name. “I have some other help, and I think… I would like yours, too, if you’re offering it.” It might be nice to have somebody normal on the sidelines.

At Wynne’s question, Van faltered slightly. “I… didn’t know that’s what it was when it happened– that time or like, the others.” There had been others, and there was no shying away from that fact. “I’m not really sure… I don’t know a lot about this.” She wiggled her fingers above the table, looking down at them. They looked so normal, but each time magic swept over her, she could feel the electricity buzzing in the pads of her fingers, extending all the way down her wrists like some sort of alternate vein.

Iron pooled at the tip of Van’s tongue as Wynne stated the obvious. “I know– I definitely know that. I’m not– I don’t…” With a sigh, Van pushed some hair out of her eyes. “I’m learning about it. The magic part, not the demon part– I don’t know– I think that I need to learn about that part, too, if I want to be able to control stuff. But I guess– summoners– me, I–” Another deep breath, another finger pressed to the now cooling mug, “it’s not just demons… we can summon other things.” She hadn’t read a ton into it, being too preoccupied with everyone in Ireland and their fates, but now that everyone was back (except for Nora), maybe she could find the time again.

“I think so, yes. I saw a video of someone who talked without moving their mouth, though? But I assume the noise still came from their mouth.” Wynne frowned. It was really not the most important thing, and yet their mind kept coming back to it. It was baked air, like the things people had said on the stage of the trial. They didn’t mind it this time, though. “Or like, sign language.”

They nodded when Van asked if they understood. They did, in a way. There were always people looking out to hurt others, after all. It made sense maybe people would look into Van with bad intentions, too. “Of course. It’s good to be cautious. I think it always is. But I would be glad to help. And I’m glad you have help.” The world was so vast and to face it alone was impossible, though Wynne had tried in those first months after running from the commune. “I don’t know a lot about magic but I can look for answers.” Maybe that restricted section of the library should be broken into after all.

They felt a pang in their stomach as Van struggled to speak and hoped it wasn’t because of them. Wynne was silent as she tried to find the words, sipping their tea patiently and looking at her carefully. They tried to imagine what it was like, to begin to realize there was something within your power that you didn’t quite understand yet. They already struggled with all their own realizations — like that maybe they had grown up in a cult and that it was okay, really, that they were still alive. “It must be hard. To try and figure all this out. But um, you’re like not alone.”

They put down their mug. “I don’t … I don’t know a lot about magic, but I know some things about demons. Like that there are different types. And some are nice, but most of them are tricksters. And they can look like humans or like something else.” Wynne swallowed. “And some of them want human sacrifices. But there are rituals to get rid of them and other things. I can also learn more about it if you want, I have a source.” They didn’t want to name Teddy, but they were just around the corner. So was Gabagool, who was a bit more obviously a demon expert. “And other things? Like … if you got better, you could summon us freshly baked cookies?”

“Oh, true. Yeah.” Van pushed herself to think outside the box– to not be so embroiled with what she’d always been faced with. It was hard, acknowledging the things outside of her bubble, but it had to happen if she was going to face any growth. Wynne’s ways of looking at things was only further proof of that. It was a simple thing; a discussion about discussion, but it held more worth than just that alone.

Wynne seemed to understand her in a way that few did. They offered their help, but didn’t demand she take it. That felt… nice. Wynne was just Wynne, and for them to extend their hand, it meant a great deal to her. Van nodded, “I’d… really like that, Wynne. Thank you.” That almost felt too formal for her. “Like, I would really like that. I think it’d help a lot, to know I’m not doing it alone.” She hadn’t been– she had people in her corner, but with Wynne, it felt different. Maybe because they had a lot more to lose, so it made Van feel that much more protective.

The only demons that Van had been faced with so far were the kinds that saved her life. Were they good? Would they have killed her, too, if given the chance? She thought back to the feathery hand, and how if she plucked each delicate white strand away, what would be left? Somebody like her who had lost something? Or would it be something more sinister? “So it’s like people, like– all different kinds. That makes sense, too.” They wouldn’t all be bad– nothing could be all bad, because if that were true, then what Jade had done would have been right, and Van didn’t think what Jade had done, or did in her past, was right at all. But there were bad things, too, and Wynne affirmed that. It was a difficult thing to swallow– that maybe the portals she created that took down those going against her weren’t the only bad things. That the creatures she unknowingly asked for help were a part of it, too.

“It’s just… a lot. All of it.” Whether she meant the demons and her magic or the whole Ireland trip, she wasn’t sure. Van took a deep breath and looked down at the tea that was reflecting back at her. “I would like, so much rather summon cookies or something.” Hopefully they’d be regular cookies. “Or like, maybe if Nora runs away again, I can just summon her right back.” It was a joke she had exchanged with Emilio, but the idea of it felt less like a joke and more or less hopeful.

“But seriously, Wynne. I don’t– I won’t ever hurt you with it. I hope you know that.” Not intentionally, at least. She hoped by the time Wynne came face to face with her magic again, she’d have it under better control. Van offered them a weak smile. “It… this is all like, so messed up.” All of it. They should’ve been able to exist as regular twenty-somethings, not in complete fear that any move they made could end up with them in a casket. “I just wanted you to know that, though. The power stuff. It felt wrong um, not talking about it.”

Maybe that was the most important thing there was in the world. To not be alone when going through these kind of realizations, to have people to look along with you. Wynne wished they could be more to Van than an extra pair of eyes, that they could offer her a kind of guidance and wisdom that she certainly deserved — but when it came to magic they were wholly ignorant. But they’d try, and at the very least they would be there with tea and other things.

“Of course, Van. You know, you helped me so much. Help me still. With all the things I don’t know, which are a lot of things,” they smiled a little. “And I get that this is different, but it also isn’t. Friends help each other.” And this was easily accepted by now. Van was their friend and would continue to be their friend, even in the face of demons and former communes (cults?), even in the face of explosive magic.

They nodded. “Just like humans. Or people. All different kinds,” they echoed the sentiment, because it was the sentiment they were trying to build their life on. Wynne wasn’t struggling to develop a philosophy outside of the one they had abandoned, but this was a core part of it. Everyone had the ability to be good, just as everyone had the ability to be bad — and though some people had more powers to do bad with their bad intentions, it was still about intent. If a bad person had Van’s powers, it would be horrible. But Van was good. “But … I think they’re still, when they’re bad … they are very dangerous.”

Van was right. It was a lot, all of it. But it had been a lot since they had ran from home, the entire world an overwhelming cacophony of sound and bright lights. Though there was pain and fear, though, that lotness also came with these things. Van. Jokes. Tea. They clung to their cup. “Maybe you can practice that. And summoning Nora, but maybe you can use me for practice so she doesn’t have to know.”

Wynne frowned at Van before nodding their head again, meaning every bop of their head. “Of course. Of course, I know. I — you saved us, last time. And I am glad we’re talking about it. That we can talk more about my home, too. That it’s all … open and discussable and that it’s okay to discuss it. Because I trust you, okay? To hear my things, but also to not hurt me.”

“Yeah! Like, one day you’re going to totally wreck me at Mario Kart. Maybe not right now, but one day.” It felt nice to joke, to laugh with Wynne across from her. The days of staring down at her phone screen, of waiting for response after response; of finding out whether or not the people she cared about were okay weren’t necessarily behind her, but for the time being it was. At least, in Wynne and Regan’s case. Van so desperately wanted to find Nora, to show her the love that those in Wicked’s Rest had for her, to show her that even if home didn’t feel like home, it could mimic the feeling until it felt real. That was what it always felt like; Van never felt at home, but with Wynne across from her, she felt like she was getting closer. Van wanted both Nora and Wynne to feel that way, and she hoped that one day they would. “Friends definitely help each other, yeah.” Always, no matter what.

Wynne held warnings in the palm of their hand, spilling them onto the table. They traced them out– a warning, a promise, the acknowledgment that while other things might be dangerous, Wynne didn’t think she was dangerous. Van wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Most of her life, she’d been treated as a fragile thing, and so she learned how to crack at will, to fall apart as that was what most expected from her. Wynne treated her with the respect she’d been looking for, much like Erin and Nora. “I understand, and I trust you.” Because Van had no reason not to. Because Wynne spoke of these things with an understanding that rivaled the ability to actually dredge up shadows and souls alike.

Van snorted at the thought of practicing with Wynne. “Maybe when Teddy gets back we can try.” She didn’t think she’d actually use Wynne for any kind of summoning practice, but the offer sat heavy on her shoulders, or rather, the trust did.

As Wynne went on to speak, Van sat in a silence that enveloped her, not in fear or turmoil, but in hope and understanding. “What happened? Was it the– your home, right? Something happened… before you got here.” Van bit the inside of her cheek as she watched her friend, searching for something– for the moment she should reach across the table, even if she wasn’t very good at physical affection. She wanted to learn more about her friend, not just because Wynne had insisted, but because this level of trust meant something, and Van wanted to show that she was reliable.

They chuckled. “I totally will. The power of the toadstool will help me and I will finally get first place,” said Wynne, knowing that this was a very distant reality. They didn’t mind losing against Van so much, though, so it didn’t matter. They had skills that she didn’t have and through that they could help one another. It was very nice, actually. “Maybe we can play some games in a bit, if you want. Teddy got me a console –” They said the word with a bit of uncertainty, not sure if it was the right term. “– but I don’t really get it yet. It’s nice to watch Netflix with though.”

They gave their trust too easily, they knew that now, but the thing that existed between Van and them was different than that kind of trust. This was something that went deeper than believing things at face-value and expecting the best from people — this was the kind of trust that came with friendship, with knowing they could rely on Van. For fun, but for support and safety too. A kind of trust that Van wouldn’t exploit them or hurt them. “And I trust you.”

A large sip was taken from their cup, the tea not as hot as it had once been but still warming up their insides as it traveled down. They wanted to fill their mouth and throat and stomach with tea so they wouldn’t have to repeat what had happened — but they owed Van the truth. And it wasn’t like they hesitated because they thought she’d look at them different, after all. That fear of condemnation seemed to have left them, at the very least.

“My commune — well, maybe … maybe it was a cult, actually. But we revered a demon. It gave us boons and stuff. And we … well, had to sacrifice one person every so often, and it was supposed to be me, but I didn’t want to die, so —” They swallowed, even if their mouth was dry. “I ran away. And then they —” Again, their mouth was dry. Wynne looked at their hands around their mug. “Had to find a replacement, so it was my brother. And then … Emilio, he found out for me, and then … we went there. To get rid of the demon. And Dr Kavanagh helped, too. And –” They shrugged. “I guess it’s over now. But it doesn’t feel like it. I am still there sometimes. And I still — you know, think about what ifs. And being in Ireland was so … they were so weird there, but also similar to home. It’s … yeah. But I know about demons because of it. That’s what happened.”

Van’s eyes lit up at the promise of video games after the discussions of how deeply traumatized they both were had ended. Van liked having these kinds of conversations because it meant she was growing, but she was a girl who liked to game at heart, and at Wynne’s suggestion, she nodded. “No, for sure, we can definitely play! I can show you how to like, actually use it and stuff. For things other than Netflix.” She smiled at Wynne, wondering if she could get their phone later to install a few different games on. It was easy to get lost in the ways that their communion could revel in comfort, but she knew it was important to understand the ways in which they needed to be there for one another through the dark stuff, too. It was, at the very least, easier to acknowledge than before.

There was the temptation, after seeing the look in Wynne’s eyes, to tell them that they could discuss it later. But wouldn’t it hurt later, too? Wouldn’t there be that same look in their eye, the subtle shake of their fingers as they clasped it around their mug? Van knew that now was the time to listen, not to insist that they could revisit it another time. This was important, and Van had shared her truth no matter the fear that came with it, and Wynne wanted to do the same. Van owed it to them to listen instead of make excuses.

As Wynne went on to tell their story, Van could feel their mouth widening, forming a perfect and round ‘o’. That wasn’t something she had expected, but it made sense, with Wynne knowing a lot about demons. Or, at least, way more than she did. Van reached across the table finally, closing a hand over one of Wynne’s that was still wrapped around their mug. It felt like the right thing to do, and she wanted to do the right thing by them. “You feel guilty, right? About surviving? Both times?” Van could understand that, too. She felt guilty about Diana, about Debbie– hell, even about the banshees that had taken her home from her. How she had gotten to live in the bubble of safety, of what Jade didn’t categorize as dangerous– how others simply existing with what they were had been condemned. Wynne had been condemned, but they had crawled out of it– had escaped the fact of death, despite the odds. “I’m like, really glad you didn’t die.” She thought that much was obvious. “Before, and in Ireland. Both times. You deserve to live, you know.” This wasn’t about her, but she felt like she was talking to herself, too.

Van squeezed Wynne’s hand, running through the number of things people much wiser than her had said to her in the hopes of bringing her back from the brink. But it didn’t seem like Wynne was on any ledge. This was a conversation filled with hope and trust, and Van needed to treat it as such, instead of imposing her own versions of grief and understanding onto them. “I’m sorry about your brother.” Van’s lower lip trembled slightly as she spoke, “and I’m sorry that it feels like you’re still there.” Van knew how that felt. She was still in that parking lot, standing across from Diana. She was still in the grocery store with Debbie. She was standing across from the banshee that had taken the last thing of her family from her. But she was in front of Wynne, and Wynne was in front of her. They were here, together. “But you’re here. We both um… we both are. We’re both here, and like, it’s super– this is so dumb, but we’re stronger than our demons. Literally.” A hiccup left Van and she reached up to touch her face with her free hand, realizing that tears had begun streaming down her cheeks.

Wynne’s story made Van want to learn how to control her magic instead of run away from it. It shouldn’t have been the defining factor for her, considering the tragedies that had already occurred, but she wanted to make sure that Wynne would never have to face something like that again, not if she could help it. “Thank you. Um…” She blinked away the tears, “for telling me.”

“I’d really love that,” they said, smiling brightly. Van was so clever when it came to technology, but also someone that Wynne liked to learn from. And playing games they did like — even if the ones they were used to were more card or board based. Video games were fun to play by yourself, though, which was nice. They liked the idea of drowning out their thoughts by pushing buttons.

As the truth spilled from them, Van reacted with a kindness they might not have allowed a few months back. They no longer expected people to respond with anger, to condemn them for their betrayal and so they let their friend touch their hand. And even if Van were to tell them that they should have died, that they had been selfish and a traitor — they’d have the knowledge that plenty of others thought differently, themself included. But Van just took their hand and offered words of understanding.

They nodded tentatively, “Yes.” It was a heavy way to live, to feel like there should be something shameful about every breath and step taken. And yet that was the truth of it — they felt guilty for sitting here. “I’m trying … I’m trying not to. I am also glad I lived. Even if I feel guilty, too.” There would never be any undoing of it — no possible way to bring back Iwan or to turn the clock on what had happened in Ireland. Their past was a trail littered with mistake but it was a trail that kept going, winding through forest and field and past beaches. It kept going.

There was another dip of their head, their eyes glued to the squeeze of Van’s hand around theirs. Wynne took the sympathy in stride, not feeling discomforted as it came from the other. “Me too.” They looked at Van and at the tears on her face and felt something loosen in their throat, a tightness they hadn’t realized was there until now. They, too, cried. “It’s … no, it’s true. It’s not dumb at all. We are stronger than them.” The demon had died. Wynne still lived. That trail kept going.

“Of course. And – thank you for listening.” They turned their hand around so palm met palm and held onto Van’s, not wanting to let go just yet even if they didn’t know what to say any more.

Van had felt alone for so much of her life, that the feeling of having Wynne across from her still felt slightly foreign. It felt like that time by the mines with Nora, signs melting down to nothing as Nora exposed herself as an entirely different being altogether. She was learning things about those she called friends, and in turn it made her feel less alone, less… desperate for understanding.

They could take their time together, she thought. Her hand remained overtop of Wynne’s as she looked at them, vision only slightly blurred from the tears that ran down. It was a special thing, being able to fall into step with somebody else’s trauma, even if the ones that she’d experienced had been so far removed from anything that Wynne had. She bit the inside of her cheek as she watched them, “I’m glad you told me. Really, really glad, Wynne.” There was nothing but sincerity in her voice as she squeezed their hand.

With her other hand, she grabbed her mug which had cooled off considerably. The tea was lukewarm, but Van didn’t care. “I feel like, so adult right now.” Drinking tea and crying– she’d seen her mom do it a thousand times over. Only, her woes weren’t about a fragile daughter or money, but something entirely different. Things would be okay. Maybe not right now, when everything was so fresh, but eventually– Van had to believe that. Not only for her sake, but for Wynne’s, Nora’s, and Regan’s, too.

#van.#tea time.#threads.

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