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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

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The Stranger 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Summary: A stranger buys the farmstead nearby and disturbs your sleepy village life.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your grandmother waits for you on the porch. She has a book in hand as she sits on the wooden swing, nose scrunched beneath the wire of her glasses. She looks up as you near the bottom of the steps, the wagon rolling and rattling loudly behind Chris.

“Gramma,” you’re nearly breathless as you step up on the lowest step, “I got the groceries.”

She looks up over the frames of her glasses and closes her book. She clears her throat as she sets it beside her on the flat cushion and fixes the kinks around her ears. She stands with her slight hunch and tugs at the front of her handspun blouse.

“And who’s this?” She preens, “I wasn’t expecting company, sir.”

“Um,” you hesitate, waiting for him to answer. He doesn’t, “this is Chris?”

“Chris, ma’am,” he echoes at last, “I’m new around here. Just bought some property down the way. Wanted to come by and say thanks for that pie. Lucky me, we ran into each other in town.”

“Oh, gosh, that is so sweet,” she fawns as she comes to the top of the stairs, “I’m Sadie, I hope you enjoyed the pie. I didn’t have much left in the pantry, I know rhubarb’s not for everyone.”

“It was delicious,” he pushes the handle up and lets it stand on its own, “please, don’t trouble yourself.” He steps past you up the stairs, “very nice to meet you at last. I’ve heard a lot from your granddaughter.”

He offers his hand and she takes it gently. They shake as she smiles. “You have?”

“Please, sit,” he insists and gestures her back to the swing.

“Oh, thank you,” she swoons, “I just had my hip done, you see? Only just back on my feet.”

“Then it’s a good thing I came by, isn’t it? Looks like you two could use a spare pair of hands.”

“Um, I’ll get the groceries inside–”

“So, you two… talk?”

“Yeah, she was nice enough to deliver that pie and I guess we just hit it off. She didn’t say?” Chris sits beside her. You watch, dumbfounded. What is he talking about?

“No, she didn’t say she was sneaking off with some handsome man,” your grandmother trills.

“You are too nice, Sadie,” he grins, “I didn’t even get a chance to ask her out… you know, I know things are real old-fashioned around here so I thought I better check with you first.”

“Me? Oh, of course, of course!” She nearly claps her hands as she clasps them together, “my granddaughter… it’s about time she went out and had some fun. The dear helps me out so much–”

You grab a bag from the wagon and keep your chin down. Really? She doesn't call it help when you're alone. She tells you you're nagging or useless or irritating.

Chris clears his throat, “so I have your blessing?”

“Oh, certainly you do,” she squeals, “oh, honey, that’s so adorable.”

You look up as you climb the steps. Your stomach is doing somersaults. You can tell she’s already hearing bells. He has her in the palm of his hand and why not? She's only ever wanted you to finish the job your mother left undone. She wants someone she can boast about to the ladies at the quilting club.

“Woah, woah,” Chris stands as he glances over, “let me get that.” He stands and strides past your grandmother’s knees, “I’ll get everything sorted and you ladies can take it easy.”

“Now, that is just too much, sir.”

“It’s not enough,” he insists as he takes the bag from you, “Sadie, please call me Chris.”

“Chris,” she repeats, “you are a sweetheart, aren’t you?”

“Well, you know, it’s why I left the city. People don’t got much manners anymore. Out here, you all are so nice,” he turns and nears the front door, “can I get you something, Sadie? Water, tea?”

“I’m just fine, honey,” she chimes, “my, my, been so long since we had a man around to help.”

He nods and lets himself in through the screen door. You chew your lip and furrow your brow as he disappears inside. Your grandmother hisses your name.

“Dear, come here,” she points you next to her, “you didn’t say he was so handsome.”

“Gramma,” you groan as you drag your feet towards her.

“Oh, don’t you spoil this,” she grabs your wrist and tugs you down, “we’re gonna fix up one of your old dresses, do your hair nice…” she starts to pick at you.

“Gramma,” you drone again, “please–”

“Don’t be embarrassed. You’re a pretty young lady and he’s…” she makes a face, “well, isn’t he a certain kind. Never saw no men in my days with a jawline like that.”

You try not to cringe, forcing a smile again, “alright.”

“Try to be a little excited, dear! It’s your first date,” she exclaims, quickly tamping down her voice as the door opens squeakily.

She giggles and watches Chris as he goes to haul two more bags from the wagon. You watch him sheepishly and he looks over, sending you a grin that neatly hides away the sinister gleam in his eyes. You swallow and focus on your fidgeting hands as he once more passes through the front door.

“It’s not too late for you,” she pets your cheek and you flinch, “why don’t you go inside and ask him to stay for dinner.”

You stand and don’t say a word. As you go to the door, you hesitate. Your grandmother was never so happy about anything you did. No, but a complete stranger can walk up and have her singing his praises with just a ma’am and a smile.

#chris #dark!chris #dark chris #destroyer!chris #destroyer #drabble #backwoods au #au #the stranger #destroyer!chris x reader

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emeritusemeritus · 3 months

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Hi! First of all I love your work ❤️ and I hope you have an awesome spring 🌱 ☀️

My request is both twins being competitive to gain the reader's affection (smut and fluff and a bit angst).

Thank you so much for opening requests.

Thank you so much!! I cannot believe we are spring already, this year is flying by! This has been an absolute pleasure to write, I hope you enjoy🖤

Warnings: smut, mentions of piv, oral fm receiving, fingering, fluff, angst. I’m sorry about the ending.

Words: 1.8k

Fred and George went together like rhubarb and custard; always complementary and very rarely ever seen without their counterpart. They’d grown up together, literally from the second their cells had split in the womb and formed two identical replicas of one another. They’d shared a bedroom, a blossoming business, most classes and the title of beater on the quidditch team, but they had never shared girls.

That was, until you came along.

Fred talked about you first, telling both George and Lee about this gorgeous, funny girl he’d apparently fallen for, something completely out of character for Fred Weasley. Unbeknownst to Fred, George had actually spotted you a few weeks earlier and had been harbouring a crush since that moment.

The twins were naturally competitive but up until this point it had very rarely been with each other, usually as a team and not pitted against one another. This was completely new territory. To make matters worse, you weren’t sure who you liked more. You’d admitted that you’d liked them both, and had made it very clear that you could tell them apart and it wasn’t because you saw them as the same person, but still you absolutely could not choose.

Though they were still on talking terms, the tension between them was palpable. Fred seemed to enjoy stealing you away from his sibling, putting on a display whereas George was quieter about it, ignoring his brother’s show.

“Evening love,” Fred grinned as you approached the twins on the sofa in the common room, tired from the long day and feeling very sleepy. George greeted you with a sweet smile and began to budge up to make room between the two brothers but Fred pulled you unceremoniously into his lap, locking his arms around you. You knew it was a power play in front of his brother but you were too tired to care, choosing instead to curl up into his lap, enjoying the warmth Fred seemed to naturally radiate. Your hand found George’s, not wanting him to feel left out and you entwined your fingers with a smile, feeling your eyes shutting.

When you wake, there’s no sound except the fire slowly crackling and the sound of someone breathing. You turn slightly and see that you’d fallen asleep on Fred, cuddled into his side with his arm around you. Someone must have strewn a blanket over the both of you as Fred had clearly also fallen asleep, but your movement seemed to rouse him, his leg twitching underneath you and some sort of groan slipping from his lips. When you looked up to his face you couldn’t help but laugh, seeing that a piece of parchment had been taped to his forehead. He frowns as you delicately peel it off, his eyes opening slowly, a smile forming on his lips as he looks at you so closely to him before he grows again, seeing the parchment.

‘Gone to bed sleepyheads, G’

You smile, showing Fred the note as he brings his hand up to run at his forehead where the tape had been.

“Just you and me then princess,” he smirks, pulling you back down onto him, quickly looking around to see that you were both alone in the common room.

You make a sort of pleased hum as you rest you head back onto his shoulder, bathing in the warm he radiated. When he shifts, trying to get comfy again there’s something noticeable underneath you, poking you right in the thigh.

“Fred,” you say, adjusting your head to look up at him from under your lashes, slightly shocked. He looks largely unfazed, smirking down at you with his eyes still shut.

“Beautiful girl in my lap wiggling about, what did you think would happen sweetheart?” You nudge him gently and hear his little breathy laugh, making you bounce slightly as you learn against his chest.

You nudge him playfully, making him inadvertently move against you and you suddenly hear the most beautiful breathy moan from him as your arse moves across his erection. It’s like a fire has been lit under your skin, the noise propelling you into arousal even though you’re tired and your eyes want to close, your body is most definitely focused on Fred.

You lean up to kiss him, surprising him slightly before he leans forward and accepts the kiss, his lips moving against yours. He takes control quickly, sensing the urgency and arousal in the kiss and scoops you up with his hands, adjusting you on the sofa until you’re underneath him. He’s beautiful in the light of the fire, his red hair looking like it’s own flames, face illuminated to showcase his best features. His hands paw at you whilst yours wrap into his hair and underneath the collar of his T-shirt, the mood and playfulness of the conversation disappearing quickly.

“Let me touch you baby, please,” he says against your lips, fingers dancing across your hip until he cups the globe of your bum, squeezing gently.

“Please Freddie,” you say, not wanting to break the kiss, your hips moving on their own accord. He smirks and begins to slip his hand into your trousers, toying with the thin strip of underwear at the side before his fingers trace further down.

You bite your lip to stop moaning out when his fingers finally make contact with your pussy, his deep groan muffled against your lips.

His fingers are perfect, long and thin but with the dexterity that could outshine seasoned wandmakers. When his fingers slip inside you, first one and then another you feel like you’re in heaven. He kisses you gently, allowing you pauses when he feels you pull away to quietly moan, knowing he was hitting every single one of your spots. It’s so dirty, to be out in the open like this, Fred on top of you with his hand so clearly down your trousers. You’re cumming in no time at all, his name falling from your lips as you hold him close.

“Fucking beautiful,” he says, pulling away from you slightly as you come down from your high, a smile on both of your faces.

Once you recovered, your hands slipped down across his chest towards the obvious tent in his trousers but he stopped you, making you frown.

“Rules princess,” he says, fighting his own intrusive thoughts.

There was only one rule that existed between the twins and their little competition with you; you could be pleasured in any way you wanted but nothing could happen with either of them until you’d chosen.

“Self-preservation,” George had put it.

“Torture,” Fred had retorted. But he’d relented, agreeing that if you were going to pick one, he didn’t want to know that you’d slept with his brother too. You agreed, understanding, but right now you weren’t so certain.

“But,” you argued, feeling guilty that he was still hard and without any resolution. You can see his mind whirling, weighing up his options as he looks at your flushed face and pleading eyes, his lip pulled between his teeth in worry. He sighs, shaking his head slightly.

“Rules is rules sweetheart- and that’s coming from me.”

You kissed him goodnight, still feeling guilty as he tries to hide the obvious erection from you and trotted off to bed to think. You’d come very, very close to breaking the pact, did that mean you wanted Fred? Or where you just horny and carried away?

The next morning at breakfast, George was the one to pull you down beside him, his hand already linking with yours under the table.

“Meet me at the prefect bathroom later?” He says quietly, whispering into your ear and making goosebumps rise up on your skin at the proximity of his lips. You don’t look at him directly but instead bite your lip and give a little nod, eyes glazed over with a mixture of mischief and arousal. It seemed your little moment with Fred last night had awakened something in you that wasn’t completely fulfilled.

Arriving at the bathroom, you paused to take in just how gorgeous George looked in his T-shirt and cord trousers as he turns and notices you stood there, a sweet smile pulling at his face. You were already aroused, the feeling never leaving you all day, remembering his lips so close to your ear at breakfast.

The kiss is passionate and needy, which he recognises instantly and matches your energy. His hands are everywhere, on your neck, your breasts and on your hip to hold you close to him. It’s greedy and you can’t help but rub yourself against him, trying to get any friction you can to give you the relief you need.

“I’ve got you Angel,” he says, “you want this?”

When he drops to his knees in front of you, you feel like you’re done for. You nod feverishly, feeling a little gush of excitement and arousal as he begins to pull at your jeans, slipping them down your leg and off, along with your panties before he reaches out to hook your leg over his shoulder.

He starts to kiss around your lips, your inner thighs and you let out a whine so loud that you’re worried someone will have heard. His tongue pokes out and slowly draws a line right from your little aching hole to your throbbing clit, patting your folds with the tip of his tongue as you gasp and moan, clutching his hair tightly between your fingers.

He teases for a little while before he suddenly begins feasting on your cunt, licking up your arousal and sucking on your sensitive flesh. His tongue flicks quickly over your clit, sucking and slurping at the little bud until you’re crying out his name, hips moving as you climax riding his face.

“George,” you say, the only thing you’re able to say. “Want you, please.”

You’re so desperate to be filled, so painfully aroused that you almost lose it. You know the consequences, as does George but you don’t care at all, too concerned with your need.

George barely even hesitates, slipping open his brown woven belt and pulling down his cords and boxers until his cock, long, hard and perfect is released. You’re seconds away from joining until you jump apart, scrambling for your clothes having been spooked by a noise of the door opening.

The colour drains from your face when you see the intruder starting between you and George, both naked from the waist down though trying to cover yourselves the best you can.

Fred.

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley masterlist #fred weasley smut #george weasley smut #george weasley x reader x fred weasley #requests

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attichaos · 2 years

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P.3 Common Herbs A-Z

This is O-Z of some common herbs and their uses

*longer read*

Olive

Fidelity

Marriage

Peace

Money

Assures fidelity in love and is used to attract a marriage partner. Inspires fruitfulness and security in love, family, and business.

Onion

Prosperity

Stability

Endurance

Protection

Burn onion flowers to banish bad habits and negative influences. Cut onions in half and place in the corners of a room to absorb illness, then bury or burn the onion halves in the morning. Sacred to the moon.

Orange

Attracts abundance and happiness through love and marriage.

Concentrate on a yes/no question while eating an orange, then count the seeds -- an even number of seeds means the answer is no, an odd number of seeds means yes. Use the leaves and flowers in love rituals to bring on a marriage proposal. Add an infusion of orange to the bath to increase attractiveness and beauty.

Orange peel

Love

Divination

Luck

Money

House & business blessing

Add to love sachets to help someone make up their mind. Use in sachets & amulets to bring luck to business negotiations.

Orchid

Concentration

Strengthening memory

Focus

Will power

Oregano

Joy

Strength

Vitality

Added energy

Paprika

Use to add energy to any spell or mixture. Throw in someone's yard to cause them problems.

Parsley

Calms and protects the home

Draws prosperity

Financial increase

Luck

Restores a sense of well-being

Use in spells to increase strength & vitality after surgery or illness. Use in amulets or other magickal workings to help yourself out of a rut. Eat to provoke lust and promote fertility. Place on plates of food to guard against contamination. Useful for bath magick to purify and end misfortune. Mix with jasmine and carry in your shoe to make you more attractive to the opposite sex.

Parsnip

Male sex magick

Pear

Lust

Love

Eating pears induces love. Use dried fruit in amulets and sachets for love and lust.

Pea

Money

Love

Peppermint

Use to increase the vibrations of a space or in spells and incense for healing & purification. Place in sleep pillow to ensure peaceful sleep and bring about prophetic dreams. Use to anoint furnishings and household objects. Burn in a new home to clear out sickness and negative energy. Use in magickal workings to provide the push needed to bring change to one's life. Carry with other herbs to boost love & abundance wishes.

Pine

Promotes clean breaks, new beginnings, prosperity, success, strength, grounding, and growth; Also used for cleansing, purification, and repelling negativity. Great for house and business blessing.

Pineapple

Luck

Money

Chastity

Add an infusion of pineapple to the bath to attract luck.

Plum

Healing

Peace

Love

Poppy

Fertility

Prosperity

Love

Abundance

Potato

Image magick

Money

Luck

Healing

Pumpkin

Lunar magick

Radish

Protection

Lust

Rhubarb

Fidelity

Protection

Rose

Divine love

Close friendships

Domestic peace/happiness

Lasting relationships

Great for use in incense, potpourri or bath magick. Place around sprains and dark bruises to help them heal faster.

Rosemary

Carried and used in healing poppets for good health, used in love/lust spells, worn to improve memory, used in dream pillows to prevent nightmares, burned as incense for purification and removing negativity. Wear or carry while reading or completing tasks to improve memory of the material and aid clear thinking (great for students!). Use an infusion of rosemary to wash hands before any healing magick. Use in bath magick for purification. Associated with faeries.

Saffron

Aphrodisiac

Love

Healing

Happiness

Wind raising

Lust

Strength

Burn, wear, or carry for healing and strengthening psychic awareness. Commonly used in love magick, healing spells, and to control the weather. Wash hands with water and saffron or keep saffron sachets in your home to bring happiness.

Sage

Used for self purification and dealing with grief and loss. Carried to improve mental ability and bring wisdom. Used in healing sachets & incense. Promotes spiritual, mental, emotional & physical health and longevity. Removes negative energy. Place near a personal object of a person who is ailing when performing healing spells or rituals. Write a wish on a sage leaf and place it under your pillow for 3 nights -- if you dream of your wish, it will come true; if not, bury the leaf in the ground so that no bad will come to you.

Sea salt

Uses include cleansing crystals, purification, grounding, protection magick and ritual. Used on the altar to represent the Earth. Used with water for asperging, sea spells, consecration and casting circles. Used with garlic and rosemary to banish evil.

Shallot

Add an infusion of shallots to the bath for luck.

St Johns wort

Worn to prevent colds & fevers. Placed under pillow to induce prophetic, romantic dreams. Protects against all forms of baneful witchcraft. Place in a jar in a window or burn in a fireplace to protect from lightning, fire and evil spirits. Used for banishing, protection & blessing. Carry to strengthen courage and convictions or when confronting nasty situations. Burn to banish spirits and demons. Used in divination for the care of crystals. Note: Can be poisonous, use with caution.

Star anise

Burned as incense to increase psychic awareness & abilities. Placed on the altar to increase the power generated. Carried to bring luck.

Strawberry

Attracts success, good fortune, and favorable circumstances. Served as a love food. Leaves are carried for luck. Pregnant women carry a packet of the leaves to ease the pain of pregnancy and childbirth.

Sugar

Love spells

Sex magick

Sunflower

Energy

Protection

Power

Wisdom

Wishes

Sweet pea

Attracts friends and allies; Draws the loyalty and affection of others.

Sweet potato

Image magick

Tangerine

Promotes energy

Strength

Vitality

Awakens joy and dissolves negativity

Tea leaves

Use in talismans for courage or strength. Use as a base for lust drinks. Burn leaves to ensure future riches.

Tea tree

Eliminating confusion

Increasing harmony

Thyme

Attracts loyalty

Affection

The good opinion of others

Wear a sprig to ward off unbearable grief or provide strength and courage when needed. Burn or hang in the home for banishing, purification, and to attract good health for all occupants. Use in cleansing baths prior to working candle magick. Use in dream pillows to ward off nightmares and ensure restful sleep. Add a thyme infusion to the bath regularly to ensure a constant flow of money. Place in a jar and keep in the home or at work for good luck.

Tobacco

Promotes peace

Confidence

Personal strength

Banishing

Mix with salt and burn with a black candle to win a court case.

Tomato

Love spells

Turnip

Ending relationships

Vinegar

Banishing

Binding

Averting evil

Walnut

Access to divine energy

Bringing the blessing of the Gods

Wishes

Watercress

Lunar magick

Sex magick

Witch Hazel

Chastity

Protection

Carry to ease grief over a lost love. Use in a sachet to reduce passions. Use in love spells and spells to ward off evil.

And as always, merry meet <3

Atti <3

(photo - attichaos)

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psychoticallytrans · 10 months

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Cauliflower, the pale cousin of broccoli, is supposed to taste like mildly nutty nothingness. If it tastes really nasty to you, then you may be sensitive to tasting sulfur compounds, and should avoid cruciferous vegetables for your own happiness. A lot of kids are very sensitive to them, and they make broccoli and brussels sprouts taste awful to them. For most people, this goes away as they grow up, but some people don't grow out of it. It's less "being picky" and more of a "do you have the cilantro tastes like soap gene" situation.

An incomplete list of common non-cruciferous vegetables you can try instead:

Celery Sweet potatoes Tomatoes Okra Lettuce Alliums (Onions, leeks, garlic, shallots, etc.) Yams Carrots Squash Parsnip Artichoke All peppers Eggplant Chard Beets and beet greens Rhubarb

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saintsenara · 15 days

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Molly/Snape/Arthur? The Weasley kids+Harry figured the first Weasley family Christmas since Fred died would be a bit uncomfortable and emotionally fraught… and they were right, they just never could have imagined the exact reason

thank you very much for the ask, @silentgirlspeaksout!

i entirely back the idea of shipping snape with both molly and arthur individually, and so i think that - unusually for the throuples i deal with in this series - this is actually going to be a non-toxic triad...

one of the things which i think is really undervalued by the fandom is how the domestic role both molly and arthur [molly especially] play within the order is absolutely central to the order's ability to do its job. this is the case for molly's domestic labour - the resistance needs people who can cook and clean just as much as it needs people who can fight - but it's also the case for the emotional support both molly and arthur are shown in canon to provide for order members [especially tonks and lupin in half-blood prince].

snape existing outside of these experiences - refusing to engage with the order as a community by not eating or socialising with them - is a metaphor for the isolation his role as a spy brings [as well as a way of keeping the reader guessing about where his loyalties actually lie...].

but i think it's entirely plausible - especially given both molly and arthur's canonical willingness to take in waifs and strays - that both weasleys attempted a lot during order of the phoenix to get him to join them for meals and chat.

and i also think that one of the most profound examples of love - one which the series, which prioritises love-as-suffering and love-as-sacrifice [which snape's silent work in lily's memory encapsulates], hugely underappreciates - is love-as-comfort. i think you could do a lot with snape - a bitter, lonely, cold, hungry man - being cajoled by the twin forces of molly's nagging and arthur's affability into staying for a bit of rhubarb crumble, and this single act sparking something genuinely compelling between them...

[after all, as those of us in both snapemort and snumbledore nation know... he definitely has a weakness for being told what to do...]

because snape must respect molly and arthur - at least as much as he ever respects anyone. he doesn't insult them [at least in harry's hearing], arthur's mere presence in the room is enough to stop him and sirius fighting in order of the phoenix, and - of course - he puts himself in genuine danger [since voldemort doesn't strike me as the sort of person who'd think it was automatically fine for snape to have cut off one of his fellow death eaters' hands - even if it was "an accident"] to try and save george's life.

and so i also think you could do something really interesting with this triad post-war.

both molly and arthur - who, after all, stays in post at the ministry after voldemort's takeover until april 1998 - are well-placed to appreciate what snape had to go through as a spy. they are also - especially following fred's death - well-placed to appreciate how utterly grief changes your life, how you would do anything to soothe the pain of your grief, and how some of the things which help distract you are duty and fear - which means that, without the immediate need to keep going which war brings, your grief crashes down all the harder.

i'm always struck by sirius’ statement in order of the phoenix that arthur is a man who understands that “there are things worth dying for” in war. but i think that [very much unlike sirius...] arthur also demonstrates throughout canon that he understands the flip-side of this - that there are things worth living for, but that it's often harder to live for something than to die for it.

a snape who’s miraculously survived nagini’s bite [something else he and arthur have in common!], who finds himself unmoored in a world in which he’s just… free is a trope i adore. and i am very much invested in the idea that his extremely complicated journey towards being able to carry his grief without buckling under the weight would mesh very nice with molly and arthur's own, by providing an outlet for molly's canonical interest in caring for people and arthur's canonical interest in fixing things which allowed them to feel like they were doing something which made not just falling to pieces worth it.

#asks answered #asenora's opinions on ships #unhinged and deranged ships #or not as the case may be #severus snape #arthur weasley #molly weasley

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starfruitwines · 12 days

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Where Everything Stays ☆ Chapter Two

Pairing: Harvey / fem! original Character

Description: The cyclical nature of Mabel Alarie's existence entices Pelican Town's citizens.

Warnings: mentioned suicide, death (not main characters), dark magic, supernatural elements, gothic themes, bodily injury, grief, and past child loss // will continue to tag as I add chapters, but these are the main ones that come to mind. If you think I should tag more, please let me know, I respect your comfort.

Tags: slow burn, romance, past relationship with Haley, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 4.9K

cross posted on ao3

<< prev chapter☆

The feeling of optimism is something to be cherished. Kneeling at the foot of her small garden, she sighs in relief; the hardest part is done. Now, all she must do is wait for the roots to take hold in the soil. She had always been given parsnip seeds to signal the commencement of her journey, but this time, pleasantly, it was rhubarb and cauliflower. Higher yielding crops are always to be desired, and they should be harvestable just in time for her to purchase a good heaping of strawberry seeds. The strawberries grow to perfection without fail by the end of spring, and make for a refreshing wine by the hottest point of summer. Friday evenings had become her and her husband's tradition once, due to a shared love of this beverage. Weekly they’d meet at the lake outside of the forest, and he’d bring dinner, and she’d bring the wine and desert. It’d be the peak of summer, and they’d sit in the patch of dirt surrounded by tall grass and watch the birds until nearly eight-thirty when the sun began to set. The birds hardly varied in species, often they’d see common sea birds, geese and mourning doves. On the days nature allowed, they’d take wildflowers home with them, and give them a space in their vase on the kitchen table. With time this stopped. The novelty of it wore off eventually, and then came a time where she thought having children would solve her problems.

Late afternoon was creeping in on her, and she had to get to Pierre’s General Store before five. She hadn’t been overly demanding on herself, given her foot, which was not broken, just gruesomely bruised by morning. Harvey had said that it was a shock, and that she should consider herself lucky. Still, the tenderness of the skin is much to be desired. Nonetheless, her pantry is empty.

The walk into town always feels so short, because some of the best views in the valley are to be seen from the left of the bus stop outside her farm. The morphings of the mountains are elegant and dramatic in their shapes, and dotted into the green of the pine are flowering maple and willow trees. When moving down the path to town she wonders how much has actually changed. It’s hard to say if the shape of the mountains now are identical to how they once were. How sharp did the peaks once present, or has time not eroded them yet? With the pace she’s walking there isn’t much time to contemplate.

The clinic and its imperfectly white walls with blue chipped trim landmark the hub of the town. On clear winter days, when the trees stand bare she can see the clinic from her front porch. When fate allowed, and she was on her porch and Harvey his balcony, she’d wave hello to him, and once dating, waves turned to blown kisses. Conveniently attached to Harvey’s is Pierre’s. A door chime signals her arrival. She is faced with two sets of eyes and she’s now warm under the yellowing lights. Pierre, the sole working person, greets her brightly, as though he has eagerly been anticipating his newest customer. Their exchange is brief and more of a formality than anything, as Mabel has been burned by the town’s loose lipped monopoly man in the past. Elliott had gone from starring to shopping by the end of their introductions. She is left to be, but Mabel can feel attention on her as she walks somewhat aimlessly amongst the isles. She browses the sections of the store that she has seen time and time again. It’d be interesting if in each life the items on the shelves had new homes, but it’s never the case. Mundanities are a constant phenomena.

It’s the pet aisle where she is approached. Elliott, who had always been Harvey’s friend more so than hers, is typically more of a quiet, far-away neighbor. Yet, Harvey had always told her that once coaxed away from his desk he’s delightful to be around. Usually Mabel is one to be in and out of the store, but she's more warmed-up today, so she simply enjoys the conversation opposed to worrying about the farm and other, dreadfully pressing matters. So for today, she banters, with a smile on her face as she learns about his stationary addiction, which is apparently a right of passage for those who like to write. She had never considered how much detail went into the making of a pen or how the leather of a notebook can hold the key to one's heart. The big city school she attended had a pretentious sleekness to it, overcasted with professionalism and structure. She hadn’t taken many classes where the soul focus wasn’t business or advertising. Elliot tells her about the small liberal arts school he attended, in a mountain town some hundreds of miles away here. With his eyes to the floor, he admits to her that he dropped out his last year, but still managed to be a semi-successful writer despite abandoning his literature degree. He tells her about his experience with acceptance, not only with himself, but with others, and for the power of words.

He tells her about an essay from a French feminist he read in college that inspired him in radical ways, and it is why he came to desire the small shack he’s made a home of on Stardew’s shoreline. He describes the way she compares writing to masturbating, and Mabel finds this to be exquisitely crude of them, but her cheeks burn from smiling at him. He encouraged her to write about her feelings as a means of control, and she made a mental note to add a notebook to her shopping list. Elliott recalls the literature rather fondly, raving about the turns the essay takes the reader on. It’s been a long time since she reminisced about life before moving to Pelican Town, a time where her largest concern was getting an assignment in on time or meeting her bosses deadline. She had somehow finished her degree without taking any classes in the arts and humanities.

“I have a copy of it if I’ve piqued your interest,” He’s grinning when he offers, “It’s on condition though. Come join my get-together on Friday? It’s only a bonfire with dear friends.” Normally, on Fridays she’d be working with the wizard; often running errands in the mines, digging for that glowing purple iridium and prismatic shards that he’s always desperate for. And so much time has gone by she can’t recall Harvey ever inviting her to a bonfire.

But it sounds nice, and now that she and Emily aren’t on level terms, she realizes she should make the time to socialize, so she doesn’t grow cold and lonely. She marks it in the calendar. And if she doesn’t have fun, at least she gets a book out of it. They chat for a little while longer, inappropriately, in rhetoric and length, until it’s time to part ways with a promise to see one another in three days. As she checks out her groceries with Pierre, who is avoiding eye contact, her mind drifts to all the unknown details. Surely Emily won’t be there. The first Friday is the night she would meet Harvey at the bar, and Emily works that night. She checks out hastily, rushing to leave the store to retreat home. Elliott and Harvey are normally at the bar the first Friday of spring, so she’s left with a pit in her stomach.

When she walks towards the dirt path home, behind the oak tree on the side of the clinic, Harvey is kneeled over the dirt, wearing gloves with a small garden shovel in his hand. Sat a foot to his left are two dead doves lying stiff in the grass. He’s digging a small, yet deep hole. He is elbow deep in the dirt with specks of it staining the white linen of his rolled up sleeve. She doesn’t look any longer. When moving her gaze towards the path, he looks up at her, briefly, they catch each other's eyes. He says nothing as she brisks away without looking twice. Once on the path home she becomes overcome with a sick nostalgia and the smallest, most horrific parts of her find a sense of solace from this. Harvey never got the chance to say goodbye to his children. He had left that morning with a less-than-chipper, “Love you all, see ya later.” He’d been running late, tightening his tie while running out the door, without any coffee in his system. She’d gotten home late the night before, around a quarter to one, a little battered from the caves, but with perfect prismatic shards to show for it. He’d gotten out of bed when she had opened the door that night and stayed up with her to help dress her wounds. He didn’t talk much to her, but she knew what he was thinking. It’s how he protects himself: sometimes he’d just rather not know. So silently, he cleaned and disinfected the cut on her temple, not deep enough for stitches, but still in need of assistance. There’s a drowsiness to his movements as he unpackages the bandage, and he fumbles, just for a moment, to fit his nail under the lining of the sticky-side. Yet, he’s gentle when he puts her back together; he won’t look her in the eyes. When finished, he pressed a delicate kiss to her cheek, and released a deep, shaken exhale, “I have to go to bed. I have a patient in the morning.” He’d appeared to be sleeping when she finally made it under the sheets.

Two nights prior to that he had yelled—a rare occurrence—but she had found herself badly injured a disturbing amount in a two week span, and Harvey, desperate to understand, yet so unable to hear the real reason, had hit a breaking point. He sat at the table, put out by her lateness. He’d worked that day and put the kids to bed about six hours before she snuck in the front door. She hadn’t expected him to be awake, and only wished to tip toe towards the shower to rinse off and go to bed. When she turned her back to the door, they locked eyes and held a silence, but it was Harvey who spoke first. He's restrained, swallowing his venom when doing so, “Do you not feel even a little bad about it?”

She blinks, “what do you mean?”

“Are you kidding me?” He said, air laced in his words, and then released a deep sigh, exasperated as he ran his hands through his curls, “I’m just– I’m so tired, and you’re not here anymore.”

“Do you think I’m not tired also?” she frowns, walking towards the table.

“Are you even listening to me?” His eyes get wide and a vein becomes visible on his neck, “Warren kept asking for you today, and I couldn’t even tell him where you wer—”

“I told yo—”

“I don’t fucking believe you Mabel, okay?” He’s the headlights and she is the deer; it’s been a sleepless week, “It doesn’t make any sense— you can literally buy metals from Clint— there is no reason for you to be leaving every night! I mean—really what if something happens to you and I’m left here, alone, with two kids to raise— it’s reckless—and now—now you’re sitting here, looking at me like I’m fucking idiot for feeling this way! ” His hands flail out when he’s yelling, searching for understanding, and for a moment, she pities him, for she’s forgotten that they live in slightly different realities.

Before they have the chance to fight, Hazel’s poor cries are heard. Neither of them move to get up, but Harvey’s head falls to his hands, suddenly he looks so worn down and exhausted, so she said, “I’m gonna go see–”

Breathlessly, he says, “please—I’m sorry.”

She did all she could to soothe Hazel, whose cries were pulsating. At one point, Warner had barged into the nursery, crying himself, and begging his mom to make the baby stop. The only help that Harvey offered was to take Warner to her side of the bed to be farther away from his sister's wails. It’s not until the sun had nearly risen that Hazel finally fell asleep.

She stayed on the rocking chair beside her sleeping daughter with nothing more to do than watch the stars begin to dwindle as the blue in the sky became brighter. She couldn’t fall asleep, and didn’t have the strength to crawl in bed next to her family. The tantrums began when Hazel turned two, and became a common experience.

Her second birthday had been twenty-three years prior to that night. She’d made up her mind that morning when the sun’s beams alighted the nursery a dreamy shade of gold.

When she reaches the gate of her property, she is immediately greeted with a familiar face.

Marnie, is standing at her doorstep with a thin, not-quite fully grown husky. Marnie had known Mabel since she was in diapers, and was a loyal friend to her mother. Often she’d hear stories about their wild adventures. “Your parents, Gus, and Marnie used to pick the mushrooms right out the cow’s pen, and thought we were too dumb to notice. Those dumbasses would stay outside all day laying out with cows and really believed we didn’t know they were high as a kite” Her grandfather had admitted over a beer one night the summer before his passing.

Mabel had only known her as the sweet lady who brought them farm fresh eggs once a week. It’s hard to picture the woman she knows today as a former teenage dirtbag who once ran the town with her parents and Gus. She’s waiting a moment more on the old creaking step of her front porch, wearing a vibrant green and red dress, and the flyaways in her braid frame her sweet plump face. When Marnie turns around to leave she sees Mabel entering, “Very cute dog Marnie, It’s nice to see you!” She greets, walking towards her small home with a bag of groceries in hand.

“Oh!” Marnie’s hand flies to her heart, “Hello—thanks— I just found her on my way here, but anyways! I just wanted to drop in on you now that things have settled.” Things being the death of her grandfather, who to Mabel, has been dead for a long time. The dog by her feet rolls onto their back when she is close.

“Are you keeping the dog?” She asks rather sweetly. She knows the routine by now. It’s never the same pet that she receives, but nonetheless she enjoys the companionship. Last time, with Haley, she had been given a white fluffy bitch of a cat. She had despised Mabel all hours of the day except for feeding time. The terror, Faye, loved Haley though; often she’d be the model in her girlfriend’s photos, and was most likely to be found perched into her lap in a dominant stance.

“I don’t really think I have the space, but she’s stuck with me until I find her a home.” Marnie admits, “I was going to have my nephew pick up dog food on his way home from work.”

Mabel jumps in, “I’ll take her.”

“Really?” Marnie's eyes light up with a smile, “Are you sure sweetheart– that wasn’t my intent coming here— you know how I am with my furbabies, I can’t leave them on the streets,” She says in a needlessly apologetic way.

“Of course I am,” They both look down at the dog, who is lying about on the ground still tongue draping to the side of her mouth with heavy pants, “I could always use the company anyway.”

“Oh I’m so happy— this will be so good for you!” She says, stepping forward to give Mabel's arms a firm squeeze that only a mother could give. She’s feeling grateful today. Her pets that she’s acquired live, what Mabel believes to be, a perfect life. None of them die— they only just go away when she resets time. Of course she mourns and misses them greatly, but it brings her a sliver of peace to know that they don't succumb to sickness or death. This dog looks awfully similar to a dog she had as a child, one that she had lost to cancer. She shoves away the image of the bright white lights of the veterinary office in the city, and arranges plans with Marnie. Shane, her nephew, will just drop the food off on her doorstep on his way home, and they agree that come summer she should invest in a chicken or two. She doesn’t stay long as it’s dinner time, and she had only meant to just check in.

The dog cautiously explores the cabin as she cooks dinner, and while doing so the pitter patter of nails of the wood becomes comforting and distracts from indistinguishable noises in the woods. As the old gas stove heats up the already too-warm home, and she stirs her pasta in the water she begins to chew anxiously on the inside of her lip. The Friday where she’d normally connected with Harvey at the saloon was no longer happening, and she comes to accept that Emily could very well be at the bonfire, “What the fuck is happening,” she sighs before going back to her dinner.

The dog, who had yet to be named, abruptly jumps to put her paws on the window sill facing the farm and trees, and she starts barking fiercely. She steps away from the stove to look out the window to see what is happening but nothing is outside other than a darkening plot of trees, but the dog won’t slacken. Maybe it’s just because of her breed. She checks again only minutes later. When she peaks outside there is a bag of dog food, and two metal bowls, stuck to it is a note, “You’re welcome,” written sharply in blue ink. Shane is a prickly one.

When she returns to the stove, the burner is off and the boil of the water is starting to simmer down. Avoiding confession, she tells herself it is her memory becoming poor after all these years. When the night comes to a close, she is laying in bed with the dog, trying on names, but nothing fits. She decides it is a task for tomorrow.

That tomorrow, she stands over the garden with her hands on her hips. It takes two weeks for cauliflower and rhubarb to be harvestable, yet here they are, fully grown. She wonders if she should hang on to them for longer before selling them, as Pierre would most certainly have questions, the nosy man he is. She’d have to buy new crops before selling these ones, which wouldn’t be an issue if she’d be able to keep the money from her previous lifetimes, but no, she starts off each cycle with a measly 500 gold, and she’d already spent some to get groceries. She puts her harvest in the fridge, stored safely until she figures out what to do with her odd misfortune. Then to be easy on her foot, spends some time sitting in the dirt, weeding the land while the dog runs around.

It's near three in the afternoon when she decides to forage. Despite the dull ache that persists in her foot she sets forth, bringing the dog along. She hopes she doesn’t find ticks all over them when she leads the dog on a trek through the tall grass that leads to Cindersap Forest. Her list is short and simple: horseradish, dandelion, leek, and daffodil, and if she can, spring onion. The flowers are easy to find since they bloom freely across town, painting the grass with pigments of violet, yellow and white. The dandelions grow tall here, and have the potential to make a marvelous garnish for a meal. For now, she’ll sell them for profit to get her by until she can appropriately get rid of her preternatural harvest. The backway out the farm leads her to a field that creates an unpresuming neighborhood between her, Leah and Marnie’s homes. She walks past Leah's house to get to the forest, and keeps her gaze towards the deepening of the trees opposed to the other side of the lake and what lies near it.

It’s chilly without the sun on her skin, but she doesn’t mind. The dog trots beside her with relaxed eyes and a high tail, and when she stops to take from nature, the sweet puppy rolls to the ground in demand of belly rubs. As their walk continues, she gets snagged by the occasional thorn, knocking away at the fresh soft skin she’s left with from her time as an office worker. She plants her feet, and smooths over the skin on her forearm—strange—she had forgotten how soft she used to be. Before moving forward she glances at her foot, and frowns at the knowledge that beneath her combat boot is splatterings of black and blue against skin. So let it begin.

Their journey doesn’t last too long, as the sun still sets rather early at this point in the spring, and Mabel is not equipped to handle herself if they get stuck out in the dark. Luckily, she’d made out well on her journey, and even found some spring onions and mushrooms to sell. The walk home is quiet and the dog follows her home with an eager pace, as it's dinner time for them both. The first signs of sunset are apparent when they reach the lake. And the husky, ever so stubborn, had howled at Mabel when she had assumed they’d be taking the same path they came from. Mabel glances over at her dog's desired path and sees smog being emitted in the distance. “You’re lucky the sun is going down,” she caves, taking a parallel path. It doesn’t take long for her to pass the mossy stone tower. The windows glow a bright white and void essence is being vented into the sky. She doesn’t stop to look, but her neck cranes to keep an eye on the structure as she walks by. Luckily, he seemed busy. In the window she could see his figure fly from side to side with a swiftness as the lights from the construction pulsate. When out of sight she tries to forget. The magic of the valley had lost its charm. The first time she stepped into the tower she had been mesmerized by the unknown glows, luminescent stars, and the stacks of books filled to the brim with knowledge in an alien language.

Despite the towering figure behind her she moved forward. She still has a dog to name, and contemplates it on their stroll home. “What do you think your name should be?” She says in an enchantingly sweet tone. The only answer she gets is the fluff of her dog's tail being swayed by the wind as she jogs near the perimeter of the murky lake. Occasionally, she’ll get a little too close to the water, and Mabel fights the urge to yell at her to stay away. They’ll make it home soon enough. And dinners will be served and they’ll lay in bed before inevitably surrendering to sleep after an active day.

Seeing the entrance to the farm eases her stress, and she reaches it just as the sky is turning a deep shade of orange. It’s in front of her front door, while she's checking herself and the dog for ticks the wind in the valley begins to roar in the direction in which they came. It picks up the debris and flower petals from the ground and sends them into a spinning dance with one another. She busies herself though, only giving her attention to the black and white fur of her dog. When she goes inside she makes sure to triple check that all doors and windows are locked shut. The speed of the wind had become threatening. A sense of unnerving overtook the home that night. Each creak in the floorboard sent her looking over her shoulder and she’d never take her eyes off the reflection when she brushes her teeth.

She is close to sleep when the dog begins to scratch without restraint at the entrance of the home. Outside, she can hear the hiss of the wind piercing between the trees despite this . In a quick command she silences the dog, who still insists on storming outdoors. The darkness of the sky is daunting. The dog sits at her feet whimpering and unable to stay still all while looking wide-eyed at the front door. A rampant thumping is heard as the tail hits the wooden floors. The moths dancing under the dim bulb on the porch are all the eye can see, and the trees that sit only fifteen feet away from the front porch are invisible to her. The darkness of a small mountain town after sundown is never worth waiting up for. Flashlights only do so good. The dog starts up again with a mantra of deep woofs.

What if he’s sneaking around for her? She keeps peering her eyes into the window in hopes of seeing something to keep them inside. She turns off the indoor lights in hopes of a better view. When she returns to the old wooden windowsill the dog begins to pace anxiously, but she’s reluctant to open the door.

In her moment of indecision she hears the rush of liquid against the hard floors. “Fuck me,” She whispers as her hand reaches to clutch her chest, and when she looks away from the window the dog is squatting. The dog bolts back into the room to return to sleep, and leaves Mable with a puddle of piss to mop away. It’s getting late.

Her eyes burn and her yawns become more consistent by the time she's done cleaning the floor. She’s been awake far longer than she’d like to be, but knows it’s not the dog's fault. She’s on her knees with a sponge and bucket as she finishes, but it’s now time to stand and go to bed.

When she heaves herself off the ground she gasps and kicks over the piss filled bucket leaving it to spill around her feet. There is a hand on her shoulder. Her bones lock up and her muscles retract under the firm touch.

“What a mess,” He says. She can feel the puddle around her feet retract into nothing, leaving her standing stiff on an abruptly polished floor with sopping warm socks, “Aren’t you going to offer me some tea?”

“Of course,” Her jaw is bound so tightly that her teeth begin to ache, but she turns around with a tight smile. The purple of his hair stands out against the dark brown of the cabin’s old rotting wood.

“Dear,” he says, waltzing towards the kitchen, “Do you always live like this?” He picks up a vintage metal milk jug, one that’d only been for decor, and halfheartedly inspects it before sending it crashing to the floor with the flick of the wrist.

She hadn’t moved yet, but just watched him explore her home. He’d never been here before. He presses, “Has your mind finally gone mad or are you going to put on the kettle?”

She moves across the floor of her puny cabin, unable to think, and prepares the tea without a word. He helps himself to her ratted old couch, and kicks his feet on the TV stand, not avoiding the screen in the process. The heavy plastic scrapes against the varnish of the wood. He looks around her small cabin, twiddling his thumbs for some time before he states, “Hm. Seems as though you’re unhappy with me. Have you decided you’re too good for me now? I surely hope not considering our contract. You’re stuck with me until you meet the requirements.”

The kettle screeches.

“You’re making assumptions,” Mabel says as she takes the screaming kettle off the heat, “I’m busy is all.”

“I think you’re a liar,” The sound of mugs clashing against each interrupts him, as she shakingly prepares a late night caffeine fix, “I gave you magic! I gave you a perfect harvest, and you couldn’t be bothered to thank me— your concerned mentor! And the dog! You’ve been wanting a dog for ages!”

“That is you?” She asks. “Of course it’s me.” A wicked grin stretches across his face, “Her name is Morrigan.” Her tongue presses to her cheek, unsure on how to answer him. She knows the name but doesn't know her mythology.

“What do you want in your tea?” She asks distractedly.

“Actually Mabel,” With a thud, his shoes hit the floor, and he stands, “I better get going—It’s late my dear. I’ll show myself out now, and you will be at my tower on Friday like you’re meant to be.”

His heavy black cloak flaps loudly as he exits out the front door, and the wind from outside brings in a gust of cool air, reminding her that her socks are still doused in urine.

A/N: I'm genuinely, from the bottom of my heart, enjoying writing this story so much, so I hope you all can enjoy it too. Thank you for reading! <3

#saturn speaks #harvey fanfic #harvey sdv #sdv fanfic #stardew harvey #sdv #sdv headcanons #harvey fanfiction #stardew valley fanfic #fanfic #harvey fic #sdv harvey fanfic

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faguscarolinensis · 27 days

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Thalictrum flavum ssp. glaucum / Yellow Meadow-Rue at the Sarah P. Duke Gardens at Duke University in Durham, NC

#Thalictrum flavum ssp. glaucum #Thalictrum flavum #Thalictrum #ranunculaceae #Yellow Meadow-Rue #Common meadow-rue #Meadow-rue #Poor man's rhubarb #Plants #Flowers #nature photography #photographers on tumblr #Sarah P. Duke Gardens #Duke Gardens #Duke University #Durham #Durham NC #North Carolina #🌺🌻

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addiefoxdances · 15 days

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ADELAIDE FOX just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for 2 WEEKS, working as a MAGAZINE INTERN. that can’t be easy, especially at only 25 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit PETULANT and EMOTIONAL , but i know them to be DETERMINED and SOCIABLE. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to BROOKLYN!

General:

Birth Date: 23 August 1999 Birth Place: London, England Hometown: London, England Gender: Cis female Pronouns: She/her Orientation: Heterosexual (as far as she knows)

Occupation: Magazine intern (former professional ballarina) Language(s) Spoken: English, French Accent: Posh British Hair Colour: Blonde Eye Colour: Green Build: Very slight/slim Tattoos: None Piercings: One in each ear Clothing Style: Classic / girly Distinguishing Characteristics: Wide bright smile, long eyelashes, naturally earnest expression, small scar under her left eye on her cheekbone.

Addictions: Food restriction Drug Use: None Alcohol Use: Social drinker Positive Traits: polite, generous, compassionate, driven, charming Negative Traits: vain, childish, emotional, nervous, quick-tempered Fears: spiders, Atelophobia, atychiphobia Hobbies: Dance, fashion, pilates, baking Habits: Tugs on hair and rubs collarbone hard when nervous, chewing inside of her left cheek, pacing when anxious, always automatically smiles at babies and children

Favorite:

Weather: Sunshine Colour: Soft blue Music: Taylor Swift, Musical Theatre, Meghan Trainor, Maisie Peters, Top 40 Beverage: hot = english breakfast tea with oat milk. cold = san pellegrino lemon Food: Rhubarb crumble, salt and vinegar crisps, hash browns Animal: cats, dogs, flamingos, fainting goats

TW: Implied SA, implied ED, anxiety, and panic attacks.

Adelaide "Addie" Elizabeth Katherine Fox was born as the youngest child of the Fox family, destined to be their only daughter, and truly a youngest child through and through. Maybe because she grew up not the heir, nor the spare, but simply a third other option it was easier for her to develop her own outlook on life but that’s not to say it wasn’t still heavily influenced by her family name. A bright little girl she was always full of energy which was why it was no surprise to anyone that the first dance class she attended the tiny blonde fell totally in love with - an obsession with dance born there that day.

Always looking up to her older siblings but with a specifically special bond with her brother Austin she made sure to stay in contact with both brothers even as they grew up and left home. When they both moved country however? That was a bitter pill to swallow. Left back in London with only Austin’s pet dog King for company she found the only way to cope was to throw herself into her ever growing ballet career, pushing her body to breaking point everyday allowing her to rise to a position where last year she got to dance lead for the first time - Clara in The Nutcracker at The Royal Albert Hall.

So everything was ticking along fine until … well until one night backstage where she was accosted by a member of the production team who had drunk too much and the rest went as badly as you can imagine. Broken, a shell of herself, she became fraught with anxiety from the trauma causing horrible panic attacks, night terrors, and nasty flashbacks. Not to mention exacerbating her already bad eating disorder that was common among the dancers at the ballet company she was part of, striving for perfection an all times in ever way, including their bodies. Hardly able to function it got to a point where she just needed to get out - so she fled to New York City to be with her brothers for a little while. Away from the English media who had developed a viciously imposing fascination with the princess.

This move hasn’t gone down well with her parents, she hasn’t explained to them exactly what happened, just that if they wanted her to ever be able to attend an official function again they needed to allow her this small amount of space for a while. Leaving ballet back in the UK because of all the things it reminds her of she’s instead taken an internship at Vogue Fashion Magazine (Well the Fox name might have had something to do with that) in an attempt to find herself again in the midst of her ever declining emotional and physical stability.

Connections:

Brothers: Austin Fox & Conrad Fox Best friend/influence: Aurea Souza Protector: Dakota Love Fellow NYC newbie & new friend: Luna Mendez Acquaintance met through work: Marina Takei Colleague: Nathan Young Big Sister/Fellow Dancer: Zoey Rivera

#BOROUGHS.INTRO #about #intro #scrapbook #mental health tw #eating disorder tw #abuse tw

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exhausted-archivist · 7 months

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Tastes of Thedas Lore:

New Fauna, Food, Ingredients, and General Lore Introduced by the Cookbook

I'm putting this all in one list separate from the master list so it will be easy to find. I am also including all the information we've known from the sample pages for completeness. Source of all this information is from Dragon Age: The Official Cookbook: Taste of Thedas.

I have not included anything that was mentioned in previous media, for a complete list of all the lore mentioned in the cookbook as well as the other sources that mention it, please see this post. I'm putting all this below the cut in case you are trying to avoid spoilers, as well as the post itself is long.

NOTE: I did not include any of the ingredients from the recipes themselves, just the lore blurbs as it has been made clear the recipes not only do not match up, but are also rooted more in reality than Thedas.

Culture

Anderfels has a robust pig farming industry, the climate being well suited for them to grow to a generous size.

Kirkwall is known for their crab cakes.

Nevarran's culinary practices view food to be a feast for the eyes and mouth and thus place heavy importance on plating.

Orzammar holds a competition for the Best Sauce and participants will hatch plots to steal recipes of competitors. Leading recipes to be closely guarded secrets.

Some Orzammar dwarves insist that the proximity to lyrium and darkspawn only improve the flavor of edible deep mushrooms.

Tevinter seems to be the origins of cupcakes. They historically would use them to poison people.

There are custard connoisseurs across Thedas.

General Notes on lore

Isabela has a drinking game based on the number of enemies one has. The game has killed at least one man.

Krem suggested that Bull and the Chargers use the rice they were paid with to make rice pudding.

Krem seems to hold knowledge of all dishes the Chargers eat.

Varric and The Iron Bull love sweets.

Vivienne eats croissants every morning.

Vivienne is known for dressing blancmange with white chocolate curls and whole jasmine flowers, serving the dish on a black plate.

Wyverns, like phoenix, can be deadly if not prepared right.

Fauna

Ayesleigh Gulabi Goats - Rivain

Cuttlefish - Waters around Antiva

Poussin - I want to note this is usually a term used for a young chicken or spring chicken used in a recipe, but the lore blurb alludes to it being the name of an actual bird.

Prawns - Waters around Antiva

Shrimp - Waters around Antiva

Flora

Bitter Greens - Nevarra

Black Cherry - Orlais

Black Lichen - Orzammar/Deep Roads

Blood Orange - Nevarra

Chickpea - Rivain

Leek - Unclear origins, likely Antiva

Lemon Verbena - Rivain

Lentil - Universal staple, unclear of origin

Mango - Unknown origin, but it is a common enough ingredient for Orlesian nobility.

Nettle - Mentioned to be in Ferelden, unclear if that is the only origins

Red Grapes - Unknown origin, but it is a common enough ingredient for Orlesian nobility.

Rhubarb - Ferelden

Sweet Cherry - Orlais

Spinach - Unclear origin

Watercress - Frostbacks in origin potentially

Food Dishes

In the cookbook, it does note that there are multiple varieties across Thedas for certain dishes. I listed the regions given for the recipe provided in the cookbook as they are either "classics" or traditional for that region. The ones with multiple variations that are mentioned, I have marked with a **.

Apple Grenade - Antiva

Bark Bread - suggested alternative to black lichen

Black Lichen Bread - Orzammar, as it is also plainly referred to as "lichen bread"

Blancmange - Orlais

Blood Orange Salad - Nevarra

Couscous Salad - Rivain

Crab Cakes - Kirkwall

Crouton - Unclear, simply mentioned one needs to cook chickpeas to a "crouton-like crispiness."

Crow Feed - Antiva

Eggs à la Val Foret - Orlais

Ferelden Farmer's Pie - A term for a type of pie; such as the nug bacon and egg pie.

Fish Pockets - Seheron

Flat Bread - Nevarra

Forest Fruit Cobbler - Dalish

Found Cake - Ferelden

Fried Crab Legs - a substitute version of fried young giant spiders, Orzammar in origin, but substitution created by Devon

Fried Young Giant Spiders - Orzammar

Gnocchi - Antiva

Goat Custard - Rivain **

Grilled Poussin - Chasind

Gurgut Roast with Lowlander Spices and Mushroom Sauce - Avvar

Hearty Scones - Ferelden

Honey Carrots - Orlais **

Lamprey Cake - Not actually made with lamprey, just themed. Recipe created by Devon.

Lentil Soup - City Elf **

Merrill's Blood Soup - Dalish

Nettle Soup - origins unclear

Nug Bacon and Egg Pie - Ferelden

Paella - Antiva

Pastry Pockets - recipe originates with the Grey Wardens, cookbook notes of the Orlesian Grey Warden variation **

Poison Stings - Unclear, presumably Tevinter as they were Dorian's snack when traveling from Tevinter.

Potato and Leek Soup - Ferelden

Pumpkin Bread - Tevinter

Red Grape Compote - Unknown origin, but it is a common enough in use for Orlesian nobility.

Rice Pudding - Unclear as rice comes from Rivain and Antiva, but Krem supplies the recipe.

Roasted Prawns - a substitute for cave beetles, Orzammar in origin, but substitution created by Devon

Snail and Watercress Salad - Avvar in origins, but created by Devon with the Avvar to make snails more palatable to lowlanders.

Sour Cherries in Cream - Orlais

Spiced Jerky - Dalish **

Strawberry and Rhubarb Cobbler - Ferelden

Stuffed Cabbage - Ferelden

Stuffed Deep Mushrooms - Orzammar

Stuffed Vine Leaves - Tevinter

Sweet and Sour Cabbage Soup - Ferelden

Traviso Energy Balls - Antiva

Tzatziki - Tevinter

Turnip and Mutton Pie - Ferelden

Unidentified Meat - Tevinter

Yogurt Dip - Nevarra

Food Ingredients

Couscous - Rivain

Nug Bacon - Ferelden

Peanut Butter - Unknown origin, presumably Seheron as peanuts are mentioned in Sten's dream or Antivan given the recipe mentioning it.

Puff Pastry - Orlais

White Chocolate - Unclear the origins, but is used in Orlesian cuisine.

Whipped Cream - Unclear origins, potentially universal but noted to be used in Orlesian cooking.

Suggested Food

As in these might be eaten or not, it is unclear if the narrator was simply suggesting them out of pure speculation due to the dish's mystery.

Dracolisk

Dragon Urine - Suggested that the drink name may or may not be figurative.

Giant

Additional Notes

I included fried young giant spiders on this list because it is technically different from the roasted giant spider legs we see in the TTRPG adventure Buried Pasts.

Stuffed Vine Leaves may have appeared previously in the comic Deception. However I didn't feel I could make that determination unlike the desserts clearly shown in the comic Magekiller that are easily identified to me.

Quillback was mentioned in Unidentified Meat but isn't included as suggested or speculated food due to it being eaten by Inquisition soldiers in the Western Approach.

Saffron isn't a new spice to Thedas, as it was originally mention in the Last Court. It's origins seem to come from Antiva both due to the recipe and the fact they import most spices from Antiva in Serault.

Roasted turkey was first mentioned in the Dragon Age TTRPG. Thought it is common in the Free Marches, this dish is also popular among the Chasind.

Cupcakes seem to originate from Tevinter, as Cherry Cupcakes have been tied to them both in the cookbook but also the comic Magekiller.

Pumpkin Bread referenced to Tevinter, however we know that other nations such as Ferelden and Orlais, also grow pumpkins. The dish likely originates from Tevinter given the reference of it being used to tempt one to visit the Imperium. But thought it would be worth noting that pumpkins also exist in the south.

Licorice is previously mentioned by Dorian, referencing salted black licorice candy. But it may very well come from Riviain as the Rivaini tea blend has a variation that uses licorice root and they export the tea blend.

Additionally it seems peppermint and oregano also originate in Rivain.

Chocolate is not a new item to Thedas, however it is known to be imported to other nations from the Donnarks and Rivain.

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#dragon age #dragon age lore #food lore #flora lore #fauna lore #dragon age taste of thedas #da: tot #dragon age official cookbook #long post

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fungalfaggot · 10 months

Text

the evil rhubarb post pisses me off so much it's called forcing rhubarb it's not a different plant it's a very common technique for growing sweeter and less tough rhubarb mostly it is just grown under a large pot or bucket in the garden rather than a dedicated basement but it's fucking fine why r ppl treating it like a fuckin creepypasta. i hope every rhubarb pie you ever eat is chewy and bitter i place a rhubarb curse upon you

#rotbarks

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

Text

The Stranger 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Summary: A stranger buys the farmstead nearby and disturbs your sleepy village life.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You keep a frantic pace away from Clyde's place. Well, it isn't his anymore. You realise then you didn't get a name. You didn't get much of anything. Oh god. That was horrible. You told your grandmother you didn't want to bother. That man doesn't need a pie.

You come to the end of the drive and turn down the country road. At least it's good exercise. You shrug to yourself and cringe as you try to shake off the humiliation. Just stop thinking about it.

'Pie.'

Ugh, could you not think of anything else to say? You mutter to yourself about how stupid you are. What are you going to tell your grandma? She'll have a thousand questions, as nosy as she is.

As you carry on, wiping your sweaty palms on your flowy linen pants, you hear a rumbling. It's the familiar noise of a farmer's truck. You sidle over on the shoulder to make way for the passerby. To your surprise and chagrin, they don't pass. Instead, they slow and keep a snailish pace with you.

"Hey," the man calls. You know it's the stranger, his voice is stamped in your head; 'pie'. His eyes too. His bold blue irises stormy like the ocean. "Hey, let me give you a ride. Must be quite a ways you came down here."

"It's okay," you refuse to look over, "I'm fine."

"It's not too much trouble. I'm headed into town for some supplies. Maybe you know where I can find some chain."

He revs the truck, idling then bouncing forward with each step you make. You ball your fists tight as you stomp on. Why won't he let you go hide in shame?

"It was real sweet to bring that pie," he says, "what kind was it? I couldn't tell."

"Rhubarb," you answer, still bearing down on the country road. "I can walk, sir."

"I... I hope I didn't scare you," he says.

You're silent. You stalk onward. Home, home, always so far away. His stick shift cranks and the truck stops. He leaves it running as the door pops open and his footsteps march over the pavement onto the gravel.

"Will you please stop?" He comes up behind you, "look, where I'm from, we keep things even. You brought me a pie, I'll give you a ride."

You just want him to leave you alone. He might go away quicker if you just let him drive you. Then again, you don't like the idea of being alone in a car with him.

"No thank you."

"Hmm," he as good as growls, "you're the first unfriendly face I've met around here."

"I'm not..." you let your voice trail off, "sorry sir, but it's not far."

"Then it's no big thing."

"I like to walk," you squeak.

"Damn stubborn," he comments as he stops.

You keep going as his footsteps trail away. You don't look back as his engine roars again. He falls back into the same pattern as before, lurching forward little by little with your steps. You want him to go away so badly. You have tears in your eyes.

You look across the field. The Berrys are nice people. You gauge the distance to the trees. There's an old path you haven't been along since Cassidy still lived at home, your old babysitter.

You veer suddenly and fall into a sprint across the expanse of tall grass. You must look ridiculous but you've already made such a fool of yourself that it hardly matters. You're not really thinking, you're panicking.

You hear his engine stop and grumble in place. You pump your arms as you race over the flat ground and disappear behind the old well and down towards the brush. Your lungs burn but you don't stop. You can't.

He wouldn't follow you, would he?

You don't stop until you have to. You gasp and gulp and peer over your shoulder into the trees. There's nothing but the moss and scrambling critters. You stumble and lean on a thick trunk.

Great. You really outdid yourself. That man must think you're insane. Maybe you are.

You catch your breath and set back on the path home. Too bad the village is so small. The only way you'll never run into him again is if you take on a self-imposed exile.

Or you could just become a hermit.

You come in sight of your grandma's house. She's on the porch, swaying in the bench swing as she crochets. You tramp up the steps as she glance over without turning her head.

“That was quick,” she comments. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing,” you lie.

“You're a mess,” she scowls at your pants, mud splattered up the chambray.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you shrug. “Just took a shortcut.

“Mhmm, aren't you going to tell me about them?”

“Um,” you move to lean on the porch railing, “it was just some guy.”

“Some guy?” She wonders, needles clacking. “Young, old?”

“Er, I guess, pretty young…”

“So no wife? Single, hm,” she mulls.

“I think. I didn't ask.”

“Well, what's his name?”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” She narrows her eyes.

“I didn't… get it.”

“Ugh,” she frowns, “I should've gone myself but my hip. I'll have to call Lynette and see if she's heard anythinf else.”

“Sorry,” you pout.

“Well, you never were very social,” she tuts, “but I'd say you're more than old enough to learn. I'd like to have a great grandchild or two before I'm in the ground.”

“Grandma,” you exclaim, “don't talk like that.”

“You need me too. You need sense. You have no sense of urgency, dear. In a place like this, that's saying something.”

You deflate and throw your hands up, “sorry to disappoint… again.”

You push yourself off the railing and drag your feet towards the door.

“Oh don't be a child,” she reproaches.

You ignore her snipe, “what do you want for dinner?”

“Already in the oven,” she states tritely, “silly me, I thought you might invite the new neighbour to meet me, since I'm a but limited at the moment.”

“I… didn't think.”

She hums in disapproving agreement. You continue inside before she can make you feel any smaller. You know you're behind, you always have been. You're just as disappointed as she is.

#destroyer!chris #destroyer #chris x reader #dark!destroyer!chris #drabble #series #the stranger #au #backwoods au

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