#i think i'm going to skip february's box because i just don't vibe with the 'treacherous love' aesthetic

[ljf613]

OwlCrate Unboxed (01/24)

I just got my first @owlcrate box, and honestly, I wasn't really sure what to expect, or if this was really worth it-- I rarely spend more than $10 on a book, so the full charge of just one of these boxes (including shipping) definitely had me thinking twice. And what if, after all that, I didn't even like the book?

But one of the reasons I was willing to take a risk on this one was because the theme was clearly tailor-made for me specifically.

"Enchated to Meet You"? Regency-esque romance with magic and royalty? That soft, vintage aesthetic that I adore? Yes, please.

And I was not disappointed. While I still haven't read the book, so I can't say if I'll like it or not, what I can tell you is that before I even got particularly deep into the box, I already knew that the price I'd paid was more than worth it even without the book.

(To avoid spoilers, product images and reviews beneath the cut.)

First up, this canvas tote bag:

The design is based on a book called Once Upon a Broken Heart by Stephanie Garber. (It's on my to-read list, I'm just waiting for my hold to come in!) It's got a sweet, elfish woodland vibe going on-- I half-expect to see a tiny winged fairy peeking out from behind one of those toadstools. This bag is also has great functionality. I am always in need of a sturdy cloth bag to carry my books, and I am positive this is one I'll be getting a lot of use out of. The material is thick and durable, and it's wide and deep enough to easily hold at least half a dozen books without any stress. An all-around cute and useful item!

Next up, a reusable cleaning cloth:

The design is based on a book called Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor. (I'd never heard of this book before, but it looks intriguing, so I suppose I'll add it to the list.) It's kind of generic, but I do like the colors. And it does look like the kind of thing that would be perfect for dusting my desk and bookshelves. It's probably my least favorite item in the box, but I don't hate it.

Moving on to the metal bookmark:

The design is inspired by Emily Wilde's Encylopaedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett. (I just read it a few weeks ago, and the sequel is currently sitting on top of my dresser waithing for me to read it.) It's supposed to be Shadow, the dog belonging to the stories main character. However, my first thought upon seeing a large black dog in a forest, standing on a pile of skulls, was of Ruth from The Ancient Magus' Bride-- who just-so-happens to be one of my favorite characters ever. I hope no one minds if I continue to see it that way. (No hate to Shadow-- he's a good boy!) It's a very whimsical design and I like it a lot!

And now the coloring kit:

I definitely wasn't expecting this from a subscription book box, but I am absolutely not complaining. (I've been thinking I wanted to sit down with some colored pencils and coloring pages one of these days.) The quote on the left is from Pride & Prejudice (my beloved), the top-most is from Bridgerton (read the books and liked them well enough but have zero interest in watching the show), and the one on the right is from Outlander (I think that's a show based on some books, maybe I'll look into it one of these days). The quotes are lovely, I like the simple yet elegant floral designs, and I love the soft pastel color palette (and will absolutely be holding onto those pencils).

The last item (aside from the book) is the enamel pin:

The characters shown here are Sophie and Howl (+ Calcifer!) from Howl's Moving Castle (the book, not the movie, though I love them both!). I love enamel pins and happen to have a decent-sized collection, but I don't think I've ever seen a sliding design like this. This design is absolutely enchanting, and I'm looking forward to seeing more from this pin collection in future boxes. I included the envelope it came in because I think it's really cute, and it gives me some serious Violet Evergarden vibes. (The design on the backer card is also pretty! It's really evident that a lot of thought and care was put into every aspect of every item in this box.)

And, of course, there's the book:

This is A Fragile Enchantment by Allison Saft. I'm not going to take pictures of every single customization in this one, but suffice it to say that it looks really pretty and I'm hoping the story inside lives up to everything else in here.

All in all, I'm really happy with this box, and glad that I got it.

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

Fire On Fire: Chapter 25

(Ch. 24) ... (Ch. 1)

II Gallery II Symbol Guide II

Summary: "Friendship isn't a big thing– it's a million little things."

A/N: Here it is, y'all! 💖

Taglist: @latibvles @softguarnere @brassknucklespeirs @mccall-muffin @lieutenant-speirs @emmythespacecowgirl @holdingforgeneralhugs @parajumpboots @hxad-ovxr-hxart @sleepisforcowards @indigo-luvers @ax-elcfucker-blog @chaosklutz @mads-weasley @vibing-away @eightysix-baby @ithinkabouttzu

Contemporary: November 20th, 1944. Resistance Safehouse, Signy-l’Abbaye, France.

She had been told that her confinement in the dilapidated cabin was for her own protection but Alix was almost certain that the real purpose was to drive her mad enough that even if she were to be captured, she’d have nothing useful to say. 

And it was working, the agent thought as she flipped aimlessly through Wuthering Heights for the umpteenth time. 

She was going to go out of her mind.

No one in the OSS knew where the leak had come from meaning that everyone was now under suspicion, so the only conceivable solution had been to tuck Alix away somewhere verifiably secure until the source was discovered. 

Her sole contact with the outside world came in the form of visits from Captain Nixon, who was the very picture of maladaptive coping mechanisms as he collapsed into a beaten-in armchair by the fireplace with a drink in-hand. 

"Any word on Jen– I mean, Agent Perrault?" Alix inquired hopefully but her handler shook his head.

"Not since the last time you asked. Sorry to say but I wouldn't get your hopes up." 

He gave a sympathetic grimace before reminding her gently,

"MIA usually means captured or dead." 

"'Usually'," Alix insisted doggedly. 

"But not always. There's still a chance she's alive somewhere, waiting it out." 

Her case officer's expression was strained but he said nothing, opting to take a swig of his drink instead of discouraging her any further. 

There was a beat of comfortable silence between the pair and Alix picked at the shoddy couch-cushions beneath her leg with a chipped nail. 

She desperately wanted to ask about Joe but she knew better. 

She would play it cool.

"So what'd I miss? How is everyone?" she inquired casually but her handler let out a snort.  

"You mean, how's 'Joey' ?"

One of the many downsides of being friendly with an intelligence officer, Alix thought ruefully: They Know Too Much. 

 "A loose cannon, that's how he is," Nixon answered himself before taking a gulp of what was undoubtedly whiskey in his flask. 

"He's worried as Hell about you and he's taking it out on anybody within arm's reach. Not to mention, he keeps trying to weasel SITREPs out of me like your status and location aren't strictly Classified." 

The captain shook his head with a grudging, mirthless smirk.

"Have to say, I admire his tenacity but I swear to Christ, I'm half-tempted to put a rush on your paperwork just so I can get some goddamn sleep and Dick can have his best interrogator back. Liebgott's no good to anybody like this and don't we all know it."

Joe was worried about her? 

Alix didn't know what to say. 

Why should he be? 

Shouldn't he be relieved that he didn't have to tie up their inconvenient affair with a neat little bow?

But her conflicted musings were interrupted by the crinkling of cardboard. 

Nonchalantly fishing a small, rectangular snack box out of his pocket, Nixon tossed it over to her with an exaggerated sigh of reluctance. 

“From Muck again,” he elaborated as she caught it, as if she didn’t already know. 

Skip had made it a habit of saving his fruit bars for her. He had told her case officer that it was because he was bored of apricot but Alix knew for a fact that was a lie.

It had started long before that.

╔══ •🖤🖤•🖤🖤•🖤🖤• ══╗

9 Months Ago: February 5th, 1944. Aldbourne, England.

“Hey Doc, is it normal to lose feeling in your legs?" Alix wheezed as she and the rest of the company made the final trudge up the hill to their makeshift campsite. 

"Because I think mine have died." 

“Lucky you,” Don groaned from behind her as he plopped down onto the dirt.

“Mine feel like they're on fire.”

"Mais ya, Pyro," Roe answered as he settled across from her on the ground, swiping some sweat off his forward with his sleeve. 

"We jus' did an all-night hike an' on empty stomachs, no less. Perfectly normal to feel numb, I reckon." 

"Enjoy it," Penkala advised as he took a seat on the empty patch of grass next to Eugene. 

"After the Charley horse I got in Mile 9, I'd welcome some numbness right about now."

From a little ways away, Alix saw Skip Muck– their other best friend– shifting from foot to foot anxiously as he waited in line to speak to Captain Sobel.

As the only NCO in their friend group, it was Skip's job to report their times on each excursion. 

Alix was reasonably confident in their speed– especially on nighttime hikes which were a lot less grueling than in the blistering heat of the day– but Muck always did his best to pad their times anyway to avoid anyone getting in trouble. 

That was just the sort of person he was and Alix was eternally grateful.

The blond mimed dramatically shooting himself with his finger-gun as he waited for the unfortunately long-winded Mike Ranney to finish handing in his group's times and she let out a small giggle behind her hand.  

"Wonder if he'll be done by noon," Don snickered, voicing her own thoughts and Alix shrugged.

"We can dream," she joked as she began to unbox her breakfast unit. "But I'm too famished to wait any longer." 

"Agreed," Alex Penkala chimed in and the usual bartering began. 

"Hey Penk, I'll trade you my Pork & Eggs for your cereal bar," Alix piped up hopefully but the brown-haired trooper sat forward and squinted, his green eyes skeptically taking in Alix's offering.

"That's what that's s'posed to be?" he asked, seeming genuinely horrified. "Are you sure?" 

The Italian's weak nod was the only confirmation he needed to cement his decision.

"Nie, sorry," Penkala answered, partially in Polish and partially in English. 

Alix sighed but at least he had the decency to look somewhat apologetic. 

"Maybe another day?" he added as the spy turned to the friend seated on her left side. 

"What about you, Mal? Pork and eggs for half your biscuits?" she offered but Don jokingly shielded his crackers in response. 

"Fat chance," the redhead quipped. "These are getting drenched in coffee, soon as it's done."

"I'll remember this the next time you ask me for a Wrigley's," Alix teased before turning to the medic across the way, whose dark blue eyes were already fixed on her. 

"How about you, Gene? Up for a trade?"

She held up the tin with a hopeful smile so the medic could view the breakfast ration within but he shook his head apologetically. 

"Uh…'fraid I gotta pass on that," he responded, shooting her a sympathetic grimace as he eyed the tin. 

"It don' look fit for human consumption."

Roe wasn't wrong. 

The medic's prepackaged block of oatmeal had to be soaked in water from his canteen until it was an almost slop-like consistency the color of wet cement but it still looked better than the culinary monstrosity sitting before her in her own tin. 

Using her fork as a poking stick, Alix lightly prodded the chalky egg yolk, hoping to find an angle at which it might at least look a little bit appetizing but found none.

The blocks of pork were so solid that she could hardly get her fork through them and she found herself thinking wistfully of home. 

When she was home for breaks in Chestnut Hill, Penny would make the most incredible Irish breakfast known to man every morning – the fluffiest golden eggs, the most mouthwatering sausage accompanied by the scent of sizzling bacon and bread so fresh that you could hear the melodious crackle of the crust. 

Just the thought of it was making her stomach growl but her musings were interrupted when Doc Roe reached out from across the way and plunked 4 of his 8 biscuits onto her tray with a shy smile. 

"Ya can have 'em for free though, if ya want 'em, che– er, Pyro," he corrected quickly with an awkward cough before adding, "Hope they help." 

Alix beamed back at him. 

"Gene, you're a real peach, do you know that?" 

The tips of the medic's ears turned bright pink and he replied with a "De Rien" so soft that she barely heard it. 

Taking a bite of one of the biscuits, Alix let out a sudden yelp of pain as one of her molars connected with the rock-solid bread. 

"Cazzo! I think it chipped my tooth!"

"That's why you soak 'em first, genius," a familiar voice bubbled from behind her and Alix turned to greet her other best friend. 

"Well well, look what the cat finally dragged in," she remarked playfully as she scooted to make room for Skip in their little circle. 

"Christ, Skipper, did you get lost?" Don piped up in-between mouthfuls of soggy cracker.

"Nope, can't afford to," the blond replied with his trademark glowing grin and unflagging positivity, even as he settled cross-legged into the dirt. 

"Somebody's gotta keep you two outta the nuthouse." 

Eagerly pulling his breakfast unit onto his lap, Skip began sorting through the goods and Alix peeked over his shoulder.

It seemed like that day, only Skip had anything actually worth eating: a Dromedary Bar.

As he slowly peeled back the cellophane, the blond took a second to admire the tropical fruit concoction in his hands and Alix's stomach rumbled enviously. 

"Hungry?" he inquired as he began to worm the bar out of its packaging and Alix sighed wistfully. 

"Starving." 

Flicking out his pocketknife, the blond sawed the bar into two neat halves before scarfing his portion down and gallantly offering the second to his friend.

"You're a saint, Skipper," she proclaimed with a grateful grin as she eagerly wolfed down her half of the sweet treat. 

"Nah," he chuckled modestly, wiping his juice-stained hands off on his ODs. "Just looking out for family."  

“Bon Dieu,” Eugene had marveled from his seat across from them, shaking his head in quiet bemusement at the pair who had both already finished their sections of the bar. 

“Remind me not to let y’all near my mama’s beignets when she send 'em!”

That had been the moment when Joe passed by. 

It had started off innocuous enough, just another paratrooper admiring the scenery with his friends, those beautiful russet eyes roving the English landscape around them when they met hers and Alix’s heart thudded in her chest.

The electricity of the unspoken seemed to crackle in the air between them like a lightning storm, so much heat in one glance that it made her cheeks flush like a wild rose. 

For a brief second, a conflicted expression flashed across his face and Alix remembered the thought in her mind clear as day: 

Two months. 

It had been two months.

Joe looked as if he wanted to say something but before he could get it out, one of his best friends– Popeye, she remembered– had distracted him, babbling on and on about their future return to civilization in the coming days. 

Alix had never seen Joe appear less enthused. As he was being led away to where the rest of his friends were sitting, he took one last look over his shoulder at her, as if trying to commit her features to memory, as if gathering strength to stay away.

But why?

Two months, Alix remembered thinking sadly as she had watched the handsome paratrooper disappear. It had been two months since-

╚══ •🖤🖤•🖤🖤•🖤🖤• ══╝

The sound of snapping fingers dragged Alix from her memories like a vaudeville cane and when she looked up, she glimpsed a half-concerned, half-amused Lewis Nixon staring back at her from his spot in the armchair.

"Welcome back," he remarked and Alix let out a snort of derision, shrugging off his bemusement as she silently grappled with her thoughts.

Why did the memory of seeing Joe all those months ago make her brain burn? Why did that cryptic phrase echo in her mind: Two months. Two months since what?!

Shaking her head to clear it, the spy focused instead on lifting the ration box's lid and delicately unwrapping the cellophane in her lap.

“Jesus Christ, Nix, nice of you to save me some," she commented dryly, inspecting the remains of a crumbled chocolate bar with a cocked eyebrow.  

“Consider it repayment for making me your goddamn mailman,” Nixon deadpanned and Alix rolled her eyes. 

“Well if I was allowed outside, I wouldn’t have to have a mailman, now would I?”

“Not this again,” the intelligence officer groaned, holding up his hands in an exaggerated display of helplessness.

"I'm sorry I said anything!" 

But it was too late; the floodgates had opened and Alix was already launching into her spiel. 

“Nix, it’s been weeks,” she griped, slamming a free hand onto the moth-eaten sofa cushion beside her for emphasis. 

“I can’t take much more of this shit! I’m tired of twiddling my fucking thumbs while there’s a war going on out there!” 

“You’re preaching to the choir," her case officer said dryly, picking at a twig stuck to his fatigues. 

"As soon as your new cover's been backstopped, you'll be the second to know, I swear. So give it a rest, okay?" 

A beat of silence ensued and Alix wished fervently that she'd been allowed a radio so she could listen to music. 

But alas, a radio signal was too dangerous.

There was no swing jazz on Earth that was worth being found by the Gestapo.

"Have you heard anything about my next assignment?" she probed curiously and the flicker of recognition in his eyes told her he had. 

"That's 'Need To Know'," he replied evasively, casting a glance onto the worn-in floorboards. "And you don't, not yet." 

Alix huffed impatiently and strained to reach the knife set by her shoulder on the side-table.

Flexing her fingers around the grip, she gave it a leisurely throw just behind Nixon's shoulder at the faded red target on the wall with a THWACK causing him to duck in alarm.

"God, Runt, could you not do that please?" her handler snapped as Alix sent another sailing over his shoulder, the blade whizzing through the air and sinking into the target with another THWACK! 

"It's unsettling."

"Is it?" Alix cocked an eyebrow with a smirk, flinging her last knife at the target, the sharp metal sinking into the center with one final, satisfying THWACK! 

"My apologies." 

"You don't sound very sorry," Captain Nixon grumbled. "But you're going to be in a minute."

Digging into the canvas rucksack he'd placed on the floor earlier, the officer retrieved a hefty stack of paperwork and handed them over the coffee table to her.

"More notes, to be typed into complete reports by 8:00 tomorrow morning. And that's an order." 

"Enjoy it while it lasts, Nix," Alix commented sardonically over her shoulder, as she rose from the sofa and crossed to the faded black typewriter resting on the kitchen table.

"They can't keep me cooped up here forever. Soon, you'll have to type up your own fucking notes when I'm in the field again." 

"Well you're not there yet, hotshot," Nixon snorted derisively, the corners of his lips quirking up into a grudging smirk. 

"So get to work.