#the little shepherdess

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

Paul Peel (Canadian, 1860-1892) The Little Shepherdess, 1892 Art Gallery of Ontario

[clairity-org]

William-Adolphe Bouguereau, The Little Shepherdess, 1889, Oil on canvas, 7/20/22 #philbrook by Sharon Mollerus

[lemuseum]

[venustapolis]

Roadside Flowers, The Little Shepherdess (Jules Bastien-Lepage, 1882)

[nupaintings]

[cliopadra]

Had some free time and energy today, so have a little GO repaint of Fragonard’s “The Shepherdess” 🤸

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 1

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

wow this is another difficult one to go through. okay. okay.

it's been 57 years since we saw agatha kill her mother and the salemites - agatha should now be around 74, 75. how many of those years has she spent with rio? even if they met right away, that is a comparatively short time considering their long lives (rio's especially) and the almost 300 years they stayed separated afterwards.

the first thing we notice about the scene: just how damn green it is.

the forest and the river - rio, nature, is everywhere.

we're not told why agatha is running, but the obvious answer is that she is running from rio. she's in her shift, she was probably in their bed in the little cabin in the woods going through labor. and then rio told her that nicky was going to be stillborn and, in typical agatha fashion, she bolted, she tried to buy time, to bargain, to outrun the inevitable. but nature is all around, engulfing her. trying to escape is futile.

I so appreciate how bloody this scene is but I can't watch it, it's too much. she's run as far as she could, but the baby is coming now. she bites on a lemon and pushes. no family, no coven, no midwife. the one person in her corner, rio, has betrayed her.

that shot of rio so small between the trees, and yet the same exact color as the leaves? both one tiny person and the very essence of nature everywhere? I've got chills.

rio has brought her orchid so you know how serious the situation is. and I believe the costume department called this a shepherdess outfit? she chose this gentle look to guide nicky's little innocent soul to the other side.

you need to look at plaza's acting closely in this scene because while agatha's pain is on full display, raw and open, rio is keeping her pain close to her chest, she has no other choice. she swallows, she shakes her head ever so slightly. agatha is shaking her head too, completely and utterly devastated.

Rio walks closer, strong determined steps that don't match how difficult she's finding it to speak. her face contracts with pain before she smooths it back in a neutral expression. she shrugs a little, so small and apologetic. remember how formidable she was with alice, how clear she made it look that there was no escape? she can't quite bring herself to do that here.

you know by now what it means when agatha clutches her chest like that. you've seen her poor heart.

she licks her lips, she straighten up, vicious, ready to go into battle, ready to bite and hurt and beg and do everything, everything in her power to save nicky. we get this scene at the very end, when we know agatha and rio and their dynamic so intimately, and it's so easy to read what's happening. agatha will never go down with dignity, she'll fight till her last breath.

rio gives the tiniest of nods, she takes a deep breath. she knows agatha so well, she didn't expect anything less. while agatha is all over the place, rio is so still. her eyes are huge, and there's one stubborn tear that she's not allowing to fall. this has always been their dynamic - agatha's pain is too overwhelming, it engulfs all, there's no containing it. rio has to be strong and wise for the two of them.

this is rio losing her wife and child in one tragic swoop. this is rio being cast as the villain that took nicky's life.

this is futile. we can't fight Death.

oh, but she will try. she's been trying since we've known her. since she killed that poor dog to see if wanda could do something about it.

Death makes her decision.

not only does the grim reaper refuses to reap a soul. for the first time in all of history, she actively uses her magic to stop someone from dying. it goes against everything she stands for, and it's ultimately useless, because not even the power of the greatest Green Witch can heal nicky, she can only delay the inevitable. but she does it anyway, because she loves agatha too much. even if she knows perfectly well that she's just lost her forever.

rio is apparently impassible, but look closer: her nostrils are flaring, her jaw is trembling. if rio can't kill, by logic she can't generate life either. not that she's not able to - she's not allowed to, because she needs to be impartial. because if she lets herself fall in love with someone, it might just happen that their child will be stillborn in 18th century nowhere, massachusetts and Death might not be able to be selfless and impartial about it.

and then bye bye, sacred balance.

who the fuck came up with this story? and made it about lesbians, too? was it you, jac? I don't know if I want to kiss you or scream at you.

agatha doesn't recognize the world-shattering decision, the unprecedented sacrifice rio has just made for her. she can only think about nicky. how much time has she won? a day? a month? ten years? not knowing is torture.

and look, this is agatha, selfish to her very core. but can you blame her? can you feel anything but infinite pity and understanding for her at this moment? who is even to blame here? agatha, a mother begging for her child's life? rio going against every law and everything she believes in to give her beloveds one fleeting moment of reprieve?

there is no one to blame, not even nature - it has no concept of tragedy. (now that I think about it, agatha is the only person in history who could ever made nature feel.)

you did it, agatha, you made Death go away. you made your choice. it's you and nicky now.

oh god, kathryn, don't make that face. it's too much.

I spoke no spell, I said no incantation, you were made from scratch. the utter beauty that is agatha, the witch killer, the master of spells and craft, creating a baby (almost) the old fashioned way - the magic of life that no spell could ever improve.

this is agatha claiming nicky as hers. not rio's, only hers. she sought to have him for arguably selfish but deeply human reasons: because she needed to prove her mother wrong. because she wanted someone who would love her unquestioningly, unconditionally. because she was so, so lonely, and rio alone couldn't fill the chasm in her heart. she wanted her coven to grow from two to three, but looks like it's coven two again: her whole happiness is once again tied to only one person.

the little feetsies!

this shot, dear lord. green leaves and water taking over.

this entry was a lot. I need a hug.

go to episode 9 part 2

[stardust-swan]

The Kind of Girl I Want To Be

Buys herself pink peonies and roses

Wears scents like Parfums De Marly Delina and Oriana, Miss Dior, YSL Paris, Prada Candy, Mon Guerlain and Chanel Chance Eau Tendre (she sprays it in the morning, after showers, and before going to bed)

Bakes heart shaped sugar cookies and macarons

Spends rainy days sipping rose tea from floral china while reading beautifully bound classic novels

Has a bookshelf filled with first edition poetry books, gilded editions of fairytale books, volumes of the Little Books of Fashion series, leatherbound classics, and Harlequin romance novels

Drinks peppermint tea in the morning and camomile tea at night

Sleeps on pink silk sheets and has a satin kimono robe

Plays Brigitte Bardot, classical music, and soft jazz in the background

Takes ballates or yogalates classes

Plays the violin or cello

Watches Audrey Hepburn and Anna Karina films

Adds sweet almond oil and rose bath tea to her vanilla bubble bath

Has a seasonal pass to the ballet and regularly visits the theatre, old bookshops, botanical gardens, and art galleries

Keeps things like French Girl lip tints/Glossier lip balms/Too Faced lip glosses, a hand mirror, a comb, some bonbons, a book, a rollerball of perfume, hand cream, a piece of rose quartz, a scrunchie, a nail file, spray on SPF and bubblegum in her bag at all times

Is always up to date with Fashion Week

Writes in her diary daily in swirly writing using coloured gel pens, pressing flowers between the pages and spraying perfume samples on it

Lights Yankee Candle Fresh Cut Roses or Rainbow Cookie, keeps soap and lavender in her wardrobe, and has vanilla diffusers around the house

Lives in a cosy home filled with beautiful things, like paintings by local artists, lots of cushions and throws, soft lighting from salt lamps and fairy lights, potted herbs and succulents, vintage vases filled with floral arrangements, DIY macramé and embroidery projects, a bowl of different crystals, signature Barbies on a shelf, rattan furniture, fluffy towels in white, pink, baby blue, and lavender, pink Dove or rose Roger et Gallet soap and Jurlique rose hand cream on the bathroom sink, pictures of her loved ones in antique frames, floral patterns everywhere, antique mirrors, and beautiful porcelain teasets

Goes to French cafés to enjoy a vanilla oat latte with a millefeuille or almond croissant

Always wears diamond or pearl earrings (often paired with a charm bracelet or gold heart locket)

Enjoys rosé wine, champagne, and strawberry daiquiris at lunchtime occasionally

Snacks on strawberries, sugared almonds, dried fruit and nuts, and Turkish Delight

Applies powder, rosy blush, lipgloss, and puts ribbons in her hair at her vanity table, which is decorated with a ballerina music box, vintage perfume bottles, and trinkets shaped like swans, angels and shepherdesses

Has her morning and evening routines down pat: waking up to melodic music, opening the windows, making the bed, doing gentle yoga, simple skincare, getting dressed, applying makeup, and eating a simple but delicious breakfast in the morning, and having a warm shower, doing more decadent skincare, putting on comfy cotton or satin pyjamas, journalling, enjoying a calming cup of herbal tea, reading, looking out the window at the moon, and falling asleep to relaxing sounds like ocean waves, gentle rainfall, and white noise at night. Her life runs like clockwork.

Is gentle, sweet, romantic, and full of love to give

[riovidalharkness]

What does Death wear when she shows up to take a little boy from his mother? 1 had to sit with his question for a bit and eventually, I pitched Jac and Mary with the concept that Lady Death appears in whatever form the dead will recognize. In the case of episode 109, that meant something period appropriate, soft and inviting that wouldn't frighten Nicholas Scratch when she appears in the middle of the night. A shepherdess leading Nicholas the little lamb across the bridge into the afterlife The acid-apple-green hooded cloak took on a powerful quality in the springtime forest where we shot these scenes. She blended into the budding green trees and also stood out like a viper poised to strike. This is the first time we see her holding "the death flower". More on all of her flowers soon..

ACD: @christinecasaus ACD:@maddi_carroll Dyer: Annie Mary Lee cutter: Oksana Shore (in loving memory) First still: @chuckzlotnick

[wri0thesley]

oh to be a sweet naive chubby shepherdess, gently guiding their flock through the woods - perhaps thinking that you will take a different route, today. that there's a clearing just off the beaten path you could take a moment to rest in, as the sheep and lambs frolic around you. yourest for a little while in the sweet sun-dappled light, losing track of time in the warm weather and the comfort--

you do not know that someone (something) is lurking. you do not feel the greedy eyes that caress the heaving curve of your bosom over your stays, the place that the sleeves of your simple dress have begun to slip down your shoulders. you do not know about the shudder of hunger that goes through your voyeur when you delicately pick a plum or a peach from your little basket and bite into it, a droplet of juice running down the softness of your wrist, the intense pang of wanting that hits the same voyeur as they watch the sweet shepherdess giggle and lick it off--

you do not know the excitement building in their watcher, as you tell yourself that just a moment or two with their eyes closed could not possibly hurt. you've been walking all day, and you are not so far from the path after all, and the sheep are all grazing happily getting fat on this new green grass. your lashes falling to rest over the swell of your round cheeks, yourmouth opening to let out a soft little sleepy sigh - all witnessed by a creature that is rapidly becoming less and less human, as the fat white moon climbs like a pearl into the sky.

you are only startled awake when a clawed hand slowly drags down your soft full cheeks - when it hooks into the top of your stays, nestling between your chest. your breath catches as you stare into inhuman yellow-glowing eyes, as you see teeth the size of your forearm before you, hunger written clear in every inch of the wolf who has found you.

you gasp out, whimpering, something about your sheep - there is no blood around you, no wool poking from the corner of the wolf's mouth, but your flock is nowhere to be seen nevertheless. you wonder how long this wolf has been following you, coveting your sweet-natured flock, as well-fed and loving and fresh as you are . . . but the wolf just gives a slow growl of a laugh, and you gasp as it uses its not inconsiderable strength to grasp you by the waist, to push you so that your top half is splayed over the stump of a tree you've been resting on and your legs and rear are on the ground. it groans hungrily, nosing against your neck, burying its muzzle in the generous swell of your chest--

"little shepherdess," it says, in that same growl, hungry and sharp and wanting like a fairytale villain - and claws come to gather your simple skirts, your apron, pushing it up your legs to reveal your laddered stockings and the plump shape of your thighs and higher and higher and higher--

you notice, now, the thing between the beast's legs; thick and wanting, knotted at the base, of a size that would never never never (you're certain) fit in you--

"it is not your flock that i've been hungering for."

[gonerboy]

“If you see her, do not– I repeat, do NOT tell her where I am. Otherwise, she’ll start hounding me for a reading about her missing sheep again. I told her astrology isn’t meant to be used for such matters, but does she seem like the type to take no for an answer? Really… If she wants some help, why not go to the Knights? Or… you know what, why don’t you give her a hand next time you run low on commissions? That’ll keep you occupied for a day. (And it’ll keep her out of my hair, too…)”

-Astrologist Mona Megistus

◆ Name: Sasha

◆ Title: Snow-Touched Shepherdess

◆ Vision: Cryo

◆ Constellation: Pedum

If the wind should carry the sound of bells to your ears whilst walking near Mondstadt’s northern border, it may be Sasha and her flock of sheep out for a morning stroll.

Tugging at her cape, or each other’s tails, several pairs of hooved feet follow her like lemmings. So long as they stick together, they will be safe from harm – this is Sasha’s constant admonishment.

However, the spirit of freedom calls to beasts of all kinds within Mondstadt, and they are no exception. A fluttering butterfly catches Brigitta’s eye, a Geo Slime challenges Friedrich to a headbutting match, or an especially fragrant pastry draws the attention of Marta while on the street… like clockwork, something inevitably tempts at least one member of the procession to deviate from the path set for them by their ever-cautious guardian.

“Five, six… Wait! Where’s Gretl?!” As Sasha performs a headcount upon returning to the farm, the littlest among them is no longer present. “Ach, that naughty little Frechschaf… Liesl, come with me. Everyone else, stay here if you know what’s good for you. I’ll be back before sundown!”

And thus begins a day of searching and muttered curses. She prepares a strongly worded speech – How many times did she have to tell her not to stray? Did she know how long they spent looking for her? With every moment spent searching, Sasha’s seething only increases, her teeth grinding against one another in preparation to let loose.

However, upon finding the little ball of wool dozing in a field of dandelions, Sasha’s anger begins to melt like the morning frost under the sun. As she makes the long journey back north, a little lamb sleeps peacefully, slung over her shoulder.

After all, the scolding can wait until they’re back home, can’t it?

[sanjoongie]

All that's delicious is dipped in gold

To my lovely @daesukiii, here's a drabble I wrote in mind for you. I hope you enjoy and it brightens up your birthday 😘 thank you for being the seonghwa to my joong 😂

👑Pairing: Earl! Jung Wooyoung x Countess! Reader (f)

👑Au: Royalty Au

👑Trope: fuckboi to marriage 😆

👑Genre: smut, pwp

👑Rating: 18+, MDNI

👑Warnings: penetrative sex with no barrier (we are trying to make babies here), creampie, begging, nipple play, wooyoung just looking to take care of his new wifey

👑Word Count: 1,689

👑Summary: it's your first night with the earl and denying him only intensifies the pleasure he's about to bring to your marriage bed

You cling the luxurious sheets to your chest, your heart pounding a mile a minute. Any minute now the earl--your newly-appointed husband-- would enter this room. His domain, his rules. You needed to consummate the marriage, hopefully become pregnant with an heir. But you had married a scourge, a rogue, a lord with no honor. He was your husband now, however, and your body became his new plaything.

“I've arrived!” Wooyoung declared throwing the double doors open wide. He gulped deeply from a jeweled chalice and then threw the glass of wine against a wall, smashing it and letting out a loud noise of happiness at the beverage being consumed.

You flinched at the loud announcement and dramatics, clinging even tighter to the sheet as the footmen hastened to grab the handles of the doors and close them.

Wooyoung’s eager eyes sought out your body and he smiled slowly upon finding you naked and in his bed. “Ah, there you are, Countess.”

He strolled across the room, shrugging off his heavy jacket and throwing that to a chair before the roaring fireplace. He then pulled his flowing white shirt out of being tucked into the waist of his pants and then pulled his shirt off by grabbing the back of it and pulling it over his head. Bare-chest, Wooyoung began to crawl up the bed to you, toeing off his shoes momentarily. He got about halfway up the enormous bed until he started to pull the sheets downwards so that you would have nothing to hide behind.

“Come come, little shepherdess, I promise to not be too rough with your sheep.” Wooyoung had the audacity to grin and then run his tongue along his bottom lip.

“You're hardly a big bad wolf,” You scoffed at him, rolling your eyes.

“That's not what your nipples are saying, my love,” Wooyoung teased you.

“It's cold in here and you're taking away the blan--”

Wooyoung grabbed both your feet and pulled you bodily down the bed. You squealed as soon Wooyoung had you boxed in: hands on either side of your head and knees on either side of your hips. “Wife, we are to become one,” Wooyoung said with a roguish smile, perking up one side of his face.

“Let's be reasonable, Wooyoung it's been a long day,” You whispered.

“I agree. I should already have been tongue-deep into you and would be working myself into your tight heat. But someone has a sweet tooth and wanted another serving of dessert.” Wooyoung’s eyes followed the lines of your face, down your neck and into your bosom. “Now it's time for mine.”

“Wouldn't you rather have a deep sleep in which you could ravage me tomorrow?” You managed to squeak, feeling your breath quicken by Wooyoung and his likeness to a wolf wanting to eat you up.

“Why are you avoiding this, wife of mine?” Wooyoung gently bounced your breasts in the palms of his hands, making you moan in response.

“You're going to make me dick-drunk,” You whispered conspiratorially.

Wooyoung blinked at you several times before he finally cracked into laughter. “Are you afraid to become addicted to my lovemaking?” 

“What if you take a lover?” You wailed.

Wooyoung let out a scoff. “We just got married and you're already worried about our passion going cool?”

“I just don't want to get my hopes up,” You grumbled.

Wooyoung dropped his head to hover his lips over yours. “I won't ever let you down.”

With his lips slanted over yours, Wooyoung kissed like he always wanted to leave you wanting more. His short tongue would sweep across your lip to request entrance but when your own chased his, it went back into his mouth. He would pursue you with wanton eagerness but the minute you pushed back into his advances and he would pull back. You whimpered into his mouth and Wooyoung chuckled deeply.

“Please, Wooyoung,” You begged when he broke the kiss.

Wooyoung studied your features and he couldn't look more pleased. “I haven’t even given you what you want and you’re stupid for me.”

Wooyoung ignored the ache between your legs, and the press of his hard-on against the tightness of his pants, and paid homage to the globes of flesh on your chest that had been teasing him all night during the ball to celebrate your marriage. His red-from-wine tongue took broad licks of your nipple, eyes rolled up to your face to view it screwed up into pleasure. He left your nipples so spit-slick that they puckered in the cold air again.

Your lower half began to buck upwards in the air. “Woo-wooyoung,” You panted his name again.

“Tell me what you want from me, Countess,” Wooyoung tempted you with a playful smile.

“I need you… inside me… please!” You pleaded with a whine. 

Wooyoung sucked heavily on two fingers and then found the juncture between your thighs. He hardly needed to wet his fingers because you were almost weeping there for him. “Wife of mine, you are practically dripping for me.”

You casted an arm over your face. This was incredibly embarrassing. You knew this was going to happen. “Shut up, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung clucked his tongue at you. “That’s hardly the manner you should be addressing me, my love.”

Wooyoung began to play with your hole but only to torture you. He would push his finger only up to the first knuckle into your clenching hole and then he endlessly circled your clit but never actually brushed over your sensitive pearl. 

“Wooyoung,” You said his name through clenched teeth.

“Tell me properly what you want, Countess. I want the dirty words coming from your mouth. I want you to be improper just for me,” Wooyoung commanded, tongue caught between his teeth in anticipation. “If you can do that for me, I will fuck you straight to your orgasm.”

You whimpered and widened your legs. “Wooyoung, I need your pretty cock inside my wet hole, please, My Lord.”

The dash of manners tucked into the filthy sentence made Wooyoung’s eyes roll into the back of his head. Oh, he had lucked out by marrying you and making you his Countess. “It would be my pleasure, wife of mine.”

Wooyoung undid the ties of his pants and pulled them down his legs, only so far to free his dick and bare his ass. He played the head of his cock along the folds of your cunt, wetting up his thick cock so that he could penetrate you with ease. You swallowed in anticipation, watching as his head pushed past your wet lips and finally entered you. Your back arched as he fucked his way in; slowly making his way in with shallow thrusts that opened your tight heat to his intrusion. 

Once he was full hilt, all dogs were off to the race. His thrusts were accurate once he found the spongy area that made you gasp. He angled his thrusts so he could always rub over that place, no longer caring for his own orgasm and simply seeking out pleasure for his wife. 

“Woo--Woo,” You whimpered pitifully. At least you could still remember whose cock was inside of you.

“It’s okay, my love, I’ve got you,” Wooyoung cooed to you, pushing hair fondly from your face.

His thrusts were calculated, powerful, and you didn’t even know if you knew where you were right now. The rub of the velvet sheets under your naked body as Wooyoung coaxed an orgasm from you made you spare a moment to think, maybe, you could live the rest of your life in this bed with Wooyoung. “So good,” was all you could manage verbally.

Wooyoung was focused but he was losing his control. You were clenching around him like he was the only thing to keep you alive and that was his cock inside of you. His thrusts became sloppy and you whined at the difference of pace. Wooyoung blew some hair out of his face and mentally slapped himself. He said he would take care of you and he meant that. Did your cunt have to be so fucking good though?

“Gonna cum for me, my love?” Wooyoung said to you, searching to bring you back to him.

Your hands dug into the ample flesh of his ass, urging him deeper and harder inside of you. “Please, unload inside of me. I want you to drip out of me too.”

Well, there went all of Wooyoung’s good intentions.

His thrusts were harder, choppier, and he was gone. He needed the mental imagery out of his head and before his eyes. Wooyoung fucked you through your orgasm, single-mindedly. He didn’t miss the way you whined through the drawn-out orgasm. He didn’t miss the way your walls fluttered around him; like he needed anymore more encouragement to come inside of you. He thrusted deeply inside of you and then felt himself explode there. You had to be better than any well-trained courtesan in the realm. 

You were moaning his name, tossing your head back and forth, when Wooyoung suddenly pulled his cock from your hole. He crudely spread your cunt lips apart so he could watch your fluttering hole push his cum out. He watched with his mouth open in a small, pink ‘o’. He could get used to watching this, perhaps for the rest of his life.

“My lord…” You panted, attempting to push yourself up to meet Wooyoung’s happy grin at the sight between your legs. “That’s not going to get you heirs.”

Wooyoung made the rude noise of blowing a raspberry. “The night is still young. The first shot never matters the first time anyways.”

“The…” You blinked blearedly, “...first time?” 

Wooyoung moved his body up so that he could give your lips a quick peck. “Why, of course, wife of mine. I could hardly deny myself your body while it’s so readily available.”

You whimpered and Wooyoung laughed. “Perhaps some water first and a nice wipe down.”

Somehow you didn’t think that the wipe down was going to be as benign as he was selling it. And you found that you didn’t want it any other way.

[motdo-vn]

Introduction - Midnights of The Drowsy Owl

Visual Novel - Midnights of the Drowsy Owl

DEMO—TBA

Midnights of The Drowsy Owl is a novella magical realism, romance interactive fiction of five chapters. Romance is the foundation of the story, so there are no platonic relationships. It is influenced by mythologies with a lot of twists and turns, and a bit of Romanian influence.

When city life takes everything from you, you leave for a house you inherited from your late grandparents, in a town far away from the troubles of life: Caersolvita.

While strolling through the little town of Caersolvita after job hunting during the odd hours of the night, the old clock in the quaint settlement strikes twelve midnight, and a building down the dirt road illuminates the twilight.

Beads of light fall like stardust through the coffee-scented building. No one knows about it, and even if they did, they cannot find it. When midnight strikes, it all changes. Down the bricked pathway of the town, life clicks into light, and the twinkles of windchimes carry a bitter fragrance.

A “Looking to Hire!” board stands neatly by the doormat of the slightly tarnished place. With little hope of finding a job anytime soon, you enter the cafe. When offered a trainee position as a barista, you leave for home, unknowing of the wonders that await you when the dead hours of the night come about.

Features

Choose your gender: female, male, non-binary

Work at a quaint café in a rural town, shrouded in mystery and solitude.

Unravel the secrets of the midnight café.

Romance one of the four ROs and explore a fresh adventure with one of the three personalities chosen.

Deal with some snappy customers or different oddities.

Find out the history of Caersolvita through each route.

Enjoy a life of quietude and comfort, away from the worries of life.

Personalities: Loveable airhead, Taciturn fool, Sarcastic charmer

Character profile

(Gender-selectable)

Beautiful and dignified, Thana is the peculiar owner of the The Drowsy Owl. Behind the mysterious red eyes and snowy pale skin, the discipline of the body and grace follows each tilt of the wrist, where the whiffs of coffee beans stream along the cafe.

Admired by everyone in Caersolivita for sublime service, coupled with sweet words, Thana is the go-to barista if someone requires comfort or dark humor. Although the sorry state of the cafe, it is the first choice for everyone.

With every smile given to Thana, two more are returned, and with each heart that is offered, the more Thana guards the heart. Somehow, though, the trainee barista has a way with their words.

Unhinged. There is no other word that fits the young wolf-like Ylfa. A shepherdess along the hillside of Caersolvita, she meets each situation with the flash of her canines and a huff. With a beige bonnet laced around the edges, she fancies the lolita fashion, enjoying lavish dresses, contrary to her rambunctious voice. Or she may opt for a pink tank top with a red bow to match.

In the dead of night, a voice like a siren vying for love sings from the northern cliff at the very edge of the town. From the ruffled chestnut brown hair and perky ears gilded by the moonlight, her song willows past till dawnbreak.

Despite the tough and rowdy personality, Ylfa holds her hands close to her chest, sometimes shooting glances towards the trainee barista from the day they met eyes.

Idris (m)

Personal trainer by day, guardsman by night. Idris is often described as "too blunt for his own good." Towering over everyone in town, he is regarded as a dark warrior, a signature black hood hanging over his defined face. Polite and well-spoken, his sharp tongue still manages to overshadow such traits.

By the bridge that connects the mainland to the hook-shaped cliffside town, Idris guards the safety of the people. Always seen next to the old watchtower, most hear grunts from the place, running away in fear.

When he bumped his head against the door of Drowsy Owl, he meets gaze with the trainee barista, and color rose-pink erupts from the steely brown eyes.

Shaylah (nb)

Always smelling like honey and floral concoctions, Shaylah is a local apothecary who resides near the very edge of the cliff. Catching eyes everywhere they go, their sterling red hair shines like the sun under light. Always seen walking around town with a sunhat the size of an umbrella, Shaylah's ethereal voice wrecks the minds of people when their brash and uncouth words begin to lash out.

Spending the afternoon and night cooped up in their house, they take the blue flowers on the cliff, grinding them and creating concoctions. No one outside of the town knows what it truly is, and only Shaylah's family knows of it.

After spending a full day in their shop, taking a rest at midnight by The Drowsy Owl is usually what happens, accompanied by a cup of hibiscus tea. But now, where the bright eyes of the trainee barista caught them off-guard, they never forgot.

[venustapolis]

The Little Shepherdess (Paul Peel, 1892)

[galleryofart]

The Little Shepherdess

Artist: Jean-François Millet (French, 1814–1875)

Date: 1868–1872

Medium: Oil on panel

Collection: Art Institute of Chicago, Chicago, IL, United States

[argentumcor]

I watched the 10th Kingdom last night and it triggered a lot more core memories than I thought it would. It's a very good aughts (2000! The Twin Towers feature prominently in a few shots) fairy tale thing, a little bawdy, just the right amount of cynical, very fun, frequently bonkers. The entertainment world was different before Whedon and Gunn took to the MCU and before things had to be so sanitary- there are dead kids, it is definitely the real Grimm fairy tale land, actual innuendo between adults, there is a saucy fade-to-black, there is a best shepherdess contest that involves young women being sexy, and the villain is...like the situation with her is really unhappy and sad and it doesn't end with that particular thing being fixed.

I would have been 11 at the time my mom was making sure to catch this show and I realized last night that Wolf was the first man- not boy, I'd noticed boys- I noticed. He's good looking, though no Aragorn, but part of the charm is that the actor is clearly having a great time. I think if they had more budget, he would have occasionally turned into an actual wolf on screen, but they had budget for one very plot necessary well-trained animal.

I really like this era and style of fairy tale adaptations. The three that come to mind are The 10th Kingdom, Alice, and Tin Man. They're weird and wild and seem designed to appeal to me.