in the dark of the night ~

ardora rousseau thirty three years old ~ "And then [s]he greeted [Darkness] as an old friend, and went with Him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life."

[ardora-rousseau-blog]

angelinelaurent‌:

“Aw, give it twenty minutes, and you’ll have your hot water. Don’t be such a drama queen.” Angel rolled their eyes and moved to shrug into their clothes. “You can get me food till then anyways, it’ll make the time pass faster.”

Rolling her eyes, she started back into her apartment. “Come on. Get your ass in here.” She gestured to the couch with her right hand and started rummaging through her makeshift pantry. She’d found the dresser on the side of the road years back and simply pulled the drawers out, hallowed it out, and put shelves into it. A project, sure, but a useful piece of furniture to have around. “I’ve got Oreos and cheddar cheese puffs. Pick wisely. Whatever you’re not eating is mine.” 

[ardora-rousseau-blog]

oz-smith‌:

“Maybe I will.” Oz gave, never one to argue for a prolonged time. “Like I said, it’s not up to me.” She wasn’t the first to tell him he was going to end up staying somewhere, and he was sure she wouldn’t be the last. Someday, he was sure one of them was going to be right, he just hadn’t found that place yet. He still had the wanderlust burning at his feet and the voice in his head telling him it wasn’t time to stop yet, he still had more to do, more to see. It was a hard thing to explain to people, especially those who didn’t believe the same way that he did. Faith was such a radical concept under different eyes, he knew. He had been on the other side of it, and the idea of someone up and leaving their life just because they believed there was someone watching out for them was insane. Half the time he didn’t know where his dinner was coming from, or if he was going to have a place to stay the next week, but he’d gotten to the point where it didn’t bother him much anymore. He knew that he would be taken care of. 

“You and I took different paths out of that, clearly.” It didn’t take much to see she was from the street. Apparently Paris and Chicago weren’t actually all that different, to see the results that they both spat out. Oz had turned out different, but that was because of the people who had taken him in, dragged him out and set him on a different path. Everyone found their own way, after all. “I got the option to be soft and I was all for that.” He winked at her, as he slid back into his seat, waiting for the coffee to cycle through brewing. 

Ardora knew what it was to fold when you didn’t really want to argue anymore and it was just what the man in front of her was doing. He was giving in simply because he didn’t want to argue. She could understand that; it was how she had often dealt with her brother, who thought he had a quick tongue but in reality, was just a moron. Henrik liked to get under people’s skin without a plan. Ardora was much more of the mindset to at least have a plan before you started screwing around with people. If you had to adapt the plan as you went, so be it. She’d often try to quell his stupidity with one word answers as opposed to long sentences that might just get him worked up or on more of a path of destruction.

She tilted her head when he said they had taken different paths. “You got soft from what? The champagne you drank at dinner parties?” A little quick to jump to conclusions, again, but she was not under the impression that Oz was anything but a silver-spoon-fed blonde super baby. But perhaps maybe he was? She tilted her head, “unless you’re saying something else.” She was thrown off by his wink, unsure if she liked the sensation it sent through her or not.

[ardora-rousseau-blog]

oz-smith‌:

While Oz made a habit of studying people, he was also always the kind to reserve judgment. He was judged at glance by most people he met and had been for most his life, with a label slapped on him before people moved on. It had ceased to bother him at this point, but he did make an effort to not do the same to the people around him. So while he thought he was getting a feel for the type of woman the girl across from him was, he knew that it was only the surface that he was seeing at the moment. That generally the sharper the comments, the thicker the skin, the more that meant someone was trying to guard a lot of pain. He doubted that she would appreciate hearing that, so he kept it to himself. “I tend to stay on the move. But we’ll see, maybe Paris will keep me for a year or two, it’s not really up to me.” 

Oz went to work on starting the coffee, adding two extra spoonfuls of grounds to the filter. “I’ll drink it however people around me are.” He shrugged. He had learned to take things as he got them, be grateful for whatever was put in front of him, until he had lost all sense of pickiness. He added water and hit the brew button, before going to the fridge. “But I do tend to use cream when I’m somewhere that has it handy. It’s a luxury I don’t always have the option of.”

Ardora could count on one hand, one finger, really, the number of people who knew the extent of her personal struggle and pain. It was just her brother, Henrik. No one else had done more than scratch the surface and call her out for being a bitch, as if they expected that to hurt her feelings. She had been called that dozens of times and far worse by many. That was the way she wanted it; she’d rather be see as angry and mean than sensitive and struggling. In reality, she was all of those things but no one ever saw that, not anymore. With Henrik dead, along with the rest of her family, no one else stuck their neck out for her. Not that her parents had in the first place. But Henrik had. Ardora shook her head when he said Paris might be able to keep a hold on him for at least a year or two. “You say that, but that’s how most people end up staying here. The streets are always changing. It’s basically a different city every morning.” Another forkful left her plate more than half empty. She frowned slightly as she took another forkful. 

Ardora understood the luxury of creamer; that was almost why she preferred the coffee black and biter. It seemed silly to say it out loud, but when she heard him say it, she took a beat to process it, which was highly abnormal for her. It gave her just a fraction of a second to consider the fact that perhaps Oz was not as shiny and new as he appeared. “Yeah, I get that...” One last forkful and then she slid her plate away from her just enough to pull the coffee mug toward her. “I never got much of an option, so...biter I am.” A smirk crossed her red lips as she lifted the mug and downed what was left of the lukewarm coffee to make room for the fresh stuff.

[ardora-rousseau-blog]

oz-smith‌:

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I’ll be sure to take everything you say as the sincerest of compliments from here on out.” Oz assured, in his own less than sincere tone. Another quarter of his own breakfast disappeared, as he managed to shake his head at her and take a bite at the same time. “As long as I’m here in Paris, I will be more than happy to provide it.” If he was actually making breakfast that morning. He had a habit of running out and forgetting to eat in the morning, but maybe having someone else planning on the food would make a difference. 

He swiveled over to look at the coffee pot she was referring to. “Fresh pot,” he agreed, shoveling in the last of his omelet in a few rapid bites. He pushed up once more, taking his plate to the sink and dumping it in. Then his attention turned on the coffee, dumping out what was left of the cold, early morning coffee and rinsing it out. “You like your coffee strong, I’m guessing?” 

Ardora often judged people quickly and without much thought. Unless you were immediately interesting or ridiculously attractive, she didn’t care. Oz, while handsome, was not her usual type. She tended to lean toward brunettes of a lesser build than the man who sat in front of her shoveling his breakfast down. A zealot was also not high on her list of potential suitors in any capacity. She preferred the gutter rats, those who had grown up like she had without much in their bellies or in their homes. The man in front of her did not strike her as someone who had struggled. He was too perfect looking for that, even with the tattoos. Tilting her head, she furrowed her brow. “Thinking of leaving us, are we?” Ardora had never left Paris and had no reason to. The city provided what she needed and she was comfortable in her streets.

As Oz stood to make the coffee, she continued to slice and lift bits of the food he had made into her mouth. She thought about more salt but people were always telling her how bad it was for her. At that, she lifted the shaker and added more. Mouth half-full, she nodded, covering her mouth with her hand. “Mmm, dark, dark, dark. I rarely use cream. You?”

[ardora-rousseau-blog]

angelinelaurent‌:

“And you want me to do it for you?” They barely kept track of their own shit most days, other people was pushing it. Other people could go fuck themselves in fact, as far as they were concerned. “Darling, I’m afraid that’s not how the real world works.”

“No need to sound quite so disappointed. You do have a naked person in your bathroom, after all.”

Ardora nearly flipped the other person off at the sass but that was part of why they got along, even if it often seemed like they were at odds. “Oh, shove off, Angel. Naked or not, I still needed the hot water, which you’ve just told me is severely lacking.”

“Why is it that I always get screwed out of a shower? Jesus.”

[ardora-rousseau-blog]

jamesconnollyxf‌:

TW: Smut - under read more.

Keep reading

Ardora knew this was supposed to be a give and take but she didn’t quite care. She was grasping at skin, begging for more flesh, and as his hands slipped under her shirt, she knew he was thinking the same thing. She let him tug her shirt off and she tugged his upward the moment she could get her hands under it. Her breaths were short, desperate, despite the fact that she felt entirely in control of the situation. This had been entirely her idea; sure, James had played a part but she had made that bold move forty seconds ago that had gotten them here.

Her nails dragged down his back as her lips pressed against his collarbone. She nipped, twice, definite marks now blossoming on his skin. She fumbled with his belt, pulling the leather from the belt loops. She wasted no time in unbuttoning his pants and sliding her hand below the elastic. “Let me see what we’re working with...mmm, we can work with this...” She shifted, trying to set herself on top of the table. 

She hadn’t even skipped a beat when he set the other patrons away. Why would she have? It could be a useful skill to have on her side. And hell, it didn’t hurt that he was just hot.

[ardora-rousseau-blog]

fryabrndtt‌:

Freya never understood the draw to smoking, but she supposed that meant it wasn’t for everyone. She wouldn’t stop the woman from her indulgence though as she rolled her shoulders not minding if she did smoke in front of her. “They keep saying it’s only a matter of days until spring is here, but I’m finding that hard to believe,” She admitted looking around them unable to stop her frown, “You may have. I’ve been here for about two months now. What about you?”

Inhale. Ardora nodded, kicking at the patch of grass at her feet. It was wet and limp, barely still green in this cold. Luckily it wasn’t covered in snow, not now, anyway. “I don’t believe it. We’ll have another 3 weeks of this bullshit and then the mud.” This was one of the worst times of the year. She couldn’t stand the back and forth with the temperature. Cold, she could bundle up and deal with it; the warmth, she loved. The back and forth, no. She was over it and it hadn’t even started yet. 

“Mmm, years at this point. It’s a solid set-up. The kitchen knows what it’s doing so that’s always a good thing.” Good food was a luxury Ardora had not really grown up with. A stale granola bar and a cup of orange juice was not really a breakfast and there was only so many times a child could eat plain pasta or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before they simply wouldn’t eat them any more. To this day, grape jelly still made her gag.

[ardora-rousseau-blog]

oz-smith‌:

“I’m not sure that you mean it as a compliment, but I’m going to take it as one anyway.” Somehow he got the feeling that nice was not a word she used to describe people she liked, but he was okay with that. He was confident that he was winning her over in spite of that. Obviously, as her next comment landed and Oz started to laugh again. “I am always happy to provide the breakfast portion.” He offered, getting to work on his own portion of the omelet. A quarter of it was gone in one bite, until he realized that he didn’t have anything to drink and glanced around. “Is there any leftover coffee from this morning? I don’t mind reheating.” 

Ardora pushed the palm of hand against her chest and frowned deeply. “Oz, I am so sad that you think I would ever, ever be sarcastic.” Another forkful of omelet made its way into her mouth and she reached for the salt. She inverted the shaker and shook twice, then set it down. She watched him, nodding as he agreed to provide breakfast. “Don’t tempt me or I’ll schedule a breakfast meeting with you every morning. And you’ll never be able to get out of it.” She was joking, mostly. If it was one thing Ardora did not kid about, it was breakfast. She had grown up with half stale biscuits and rotten milk. A real breakfast was a luxury and she’d never pass it up again. 

Ardora nodded toward the coffee pot across the counter when he asked about coffee. “I mean, there’s that. You should just make a fresh pot. I’ll help you finish it...” There was no such thing as too much coffee and Oz had gone from confusing and frustrating to tolerable. But maybe it was just the omelet...

[ardora-rousseau-blog]

jamesconnollyxf‌:

TW: Smut - under read more.

Keep reading

TW: Smut - under read more.

When he cleared the entire bar without even so much as blinking, she knew she should have been scared. Terrified, even. But instead, she found herself unbelievably attracted to him in that moment. She no longer had to wonder what his take in magic was. It was blatantly obvious now that he could clear a room, perhaps eve more, with just his words. It made sense now, why she felt that tug in her chest if she didn’t do exactly what her body wanted her to. She found her lip between her teeth again but she didn’t have long because his lips were on hers without a second thought.

Her hands immediately snaked around his neck, one settling in the hair at the nape of his neck. She tugged slightly as she let her lips find his neck. She’d mark him up later. She had plenty of time for that. After a nip against his neck, her lips found his again. Between kisses, “You have a way with words.” She was being facetious, she knew, but she found the entire thing rather amusing. 

While he had no idea of her innate abilities, it was almost fitting, the two of them together. He could command people to do things at will and she could summon demons (and celestials, fey, the lot of them) but those were dark powers, between the two of them. Together, they could do more in a week than her entire troupe had been able to in the past year. Legal, probably not, but he didn’t seem the type to really care...

[ardora-rousseau-blog]

jamesconnollyxf‌:

TW: Smoking + Alcohol.

There was something lingering in that deep brunette gaze that James couldn’t quite manage to identify, a personality trait, perhaps? A judgment? She was deeper than she let on and he was well aware of that. He’d been aware ever since moving through her apartment, as it was likely the only space she hadn’t bothered to put false walls around. The pictures of her family, the occult texts… all of it harkened to the woman beneath the sultry exterior she was presenting to him. Did he want to dig beneath that? Did he want another mistake? No.

Their glasses clinked together as he bowed his head at her toast, taking a sip of the burning liquid for courage just as her hand slid along his thigh. The gesture, while expected in the long run, caught him off-guard in that moment and it took every ounce of his willpower not to spit a fine mist of burning liquor all over the woman. Where was this coming from? Confusion filled James’ thoughts as he studied her for a moment. Do I care?

Ever since how horribly James’ last attempt at monogamy had gone, he had tended to avoid anything but passing relations with the fairer sex. Meeting Ardora, he’d found a kinship in her sarcastic, biting wit. He told himself it was nothing more than two similar humours colliding and interweaving… and yet somewhere deep down he knew that to be a lie. With other girls, he had to force himself through the inevitable lead up to the final act. Wading through pleasantries and corny one-liners like sewage towards the glittering gem at the end of the tunnel that, in truth, was all either of them wanted. With Ardora, he found himself almost… enjoying that lead-up. So much so, he’d almost forgotten about that awaiting prize.

Her hand on his leg firmly reminded him of that final prize, well aware of the implications of such an act. It would cement them as just some passing fling, it would kill any chance he had of a more long term relationship. If he was lying to himself about her, he would never have another chance. Staring into her eyes for a long few seconds, his smile shifted. Death to love. He snuffed out his cigarette on the polished oak.

“Yours or mine?”

tw: smut (finally); under the read more already bc reasons.

Ardora knew this dance. She knew the give and take that came with making a move as bold as she had. Her tongue swept across her lower lip and she bit down softly, eyes settling on him. The few moments of silence between them was almost unsettling. Almost. But then James snuffed out his cigarette and his smile shifted. It was an obvious acceptance of the offer she had just laid out and when he asked her the question, she couldn’t help but laugh, turning away from him slightly. Her nails raked up his thigh and she stopped just shy of actually touching him.

She leaned in and whispered into his ear, “surprise me.” He knew where she lived but she wasn’t quire sure where his room was. Did he have a top floor suite like she did? Or was he on a lower floor, sharing a room? Would they be kicking his roommate out or would they be keeping his neighbor awake all night? Hell, they’d probably be doing that regardless.

 Ardora’s eyes remained focused solely on James, despite the warmth she knew was coming from the older gentleman at the bar. She had seen him eyeing her the moment she stepped inside. He was going to be pissy when they left. She could almost feel Vengeance in the bar, right now. He was hovering on the edge of the worlds, waiting for a moment to step in and sink his teeth into whoever crossed the line. Thus far, no one had reached out to touch her that she didn’t want touching her. James was safe; she wanted him. The others, though, they were at the mercy of her hellhound if they so much as looked at her the wrong way.

“Don’t wait too long...I just really wanna play.” 

[ardora-rousseau-blog]

oz-smith‌:

Oz only chuckled as her glare somehow managed to become fiercer. It was a glare that said she had seen some things, but so had he and that wouldn’t scare him off. “It comes from practice, I guess. Could be worse.” He pushed the portion of his breakfast onto her place, grin growing into something wide and genuine. He settled his plate back in front of him, looking down at it. He had worked hard to become this person he was now, and it was moments like this that sometimes still had him feeling like he was just lying to the people around him. But that was only his past talking. He looked back up. “I like to think I’m nice because I know firsthand that the world isn’t.” 

Taking a bite, she nodded at him. It most certainly could be worse. She had seen worse in the city, out on the streets. She saw all sorts of acts, programs, and presentations. There was always someone worse than who you were dealing with in that particular moment. The omelet was well-made, warm on the inside, soft all around. The cheese was perfectly melted but not too stringy. “You are certainly nice, I will give you that. And I will let you make me breakfast any day.” She lifted her fork at him and tilted her head almost totally parallel to the table, “which is a big deal, okay? I don’t do breakfast.” There was more to that statement -- I don’t do breakfast the morning after -- but she didn’t need to include that. He’d either get it with what she offered or he wouldn’t. Either way, she didn’t care; she had the omelet now and that was all the mattered.

[ardora-rousseau-blog]

Freya had once thought that two months was far long enough to settle into a house and become comfortable, and yet here she was feeling as if she was still on day one. She had come to realize though that she was often the most comfortable in the garden at least. It gave her a sense of calm being surrounded by growing plants. She was doing her best though to try and figure it out with the actual humans they were just a harder beast to control. She had been stepping into the back yard when something was falling just in front of her and she heard someone’s voice calling out to her. “If I had a useful one I’d give it to you,” She lifted the lighter though and did her best in order to toss it back up to her.

Ardora reached down for the lighter other woman tried to toss up to her and missed. Groaning, Ardora started to descent the fire escape to the ground. When she reached the ground, she snatched up the lighter. “This weather isn’t helping anything...” she muttered, cigarette between her teeth. “Am I good?” She meant was it okay to light up. Before getting an answer, though, she clicked her lighter one final time and a spark ignited, lighting the cigarette. She pocked the lighter and turned to face the other woman head on. “Have I seen you around? You live here?”

[ardora-rousseau-blog]

angelinelaurent‌:

“Who’s your neighbor?” Angel asked blankly. They probably did know, but it was hard to keep track sometimes. People came and went and then would move rooms without any notice. Which was why they didn’t even try to keep track of where people who would actually let them borrow their shower lived. This was easier, and hadn’t ended too badly yet. “At least you have lukewarm. Mine is always cold.”

“Name’s Laurent. You are?”

Ardora shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t keep track of other people’s bullshit.” The person in front of her seemed to be on a similar path of just not giving a fuck what anyone thought or did as long as it didn’t get in their way. Or perhaps she was just projecting and hoping that was the case. She had gotten her fill of sentimental, kind people the last few days and she just couldn’t handle any more of it.

“Ardora. I’m...” she glanced back into her room, “well, I’m here, for now.”

[ardora-rousseau-blog]

ardora rousseau, moodboard #002/???

[ardora-rousseau-blog]

jamesconnollyxf‌:

TW: Alcohol + Smoking

The bar was far from James’ usual venue of choice, the upholstery, snobby accents and rich alcohol clashed with his traditional desire for the unclean. Something about worn leather, cheap cigarettes and easy smiles made James feel far more at ease. Here, though, he wouldn’t bump into people he knew. Wouldn’t accidentally twist their desires through his powers as they inflated due to his heightened emotions. Glancing at a mirror at the far corner of the room, he thought he saw his eyes flare a deep pink, if only for a second. A friend - now dead - had joked that he looked feminine whenever he got mad, failing to realise that the unnatural colour reflected the height of his power coming to volatile fruition.

And then she walked in.

More eyes than just his swivelled at the appearance from the brunette. Those brown eyes sweeping the room in all its extravagance and yet seeming to find it… wanting. She was not impressed. James found himself grinning at that, another sip of his clear amber drink igniting a warming sensation in the pit of his belly.

As she sat down, his grin only widened as she took his drink for a sip. The slight shininess of her lips as a result drew his gaze for a moment before he finally managed to lift it back to her eyes. They had just looked so kissable, but something told him that she knew that… She always knew. “And I’m beginning to regret it, already.” He teased, fixing her with that amused grin and slight head tilt. “But I couldn’t just let you wallow around in loneliness without me, could I?” He lifted a hand, palm up as if beseeching the very heavens themselves, “For I am a generous god, am I not?” Even effecting a subtle old-fashioned lilt to his voice, cementing the joke.

In the wake of his statement and her subsequent question, he shrugged. Taking another deep drag from his cigarette, he waved a hand at the bar for another drink. “Do you see any other cigars, here?” He mused, still smiling slightly. It was something about her presence, something about her that made him grin like an idiot. He forced the expression to lighten. Indeed, throughout the bar, his was the only smoke. Only allowed through a slight bit of persuasion to the owner. As heralded by a sign at the door, smoking was strictly forbidden.

“Besides, the drinks are good and the patrons tend to leave each other alone. Just how I like it… unless they’re as hot as you.” He casts a brief, exaggerated glance around at the stuffy old men occupying several of the seats. “Nope, they’re not. Definitely not. Close though.” He quipped with a wink.

tw: alcohol, smoking

Whatever James thought he saw in the mirror, Ardora did not see. What she saw in front of her was a young man who thought he was hot shit, when, in reality, much like herself, he was nothing but broken glass on the bottom of someone’s foot. It wasn’t necessarily the worst thing to be but she knew what that meant. It meant baggage, a sob story no one wanted to hear and that he would probably never tell. It meant a shot of top shelf whiskey when you woke up some mornings or a shot of bottom shelf vodka to fall asleep. She was fine with that; this was her lot in life and she had made it for herself. 

“Generous God, hmm? Someone thinks highly of themselves.” While she wanted the sarcasm to be there, she knew her words came off more sultry than accusatory. She simply couldn’t help herself with him. It was a game they both knew they were playing. Half of the time, the poor saps she drew in weren’t aware of the fact that this was just a game to her. James seemed perfectly clear with his intentions and she knew he was at least aware of her tendency to play.

His smile, though, had her question whether or not he really understood how casual she kept things. Even men she saw for months on end were all kept at arm’s distance. No one got close, no one knew anything about her - not really. Once someone started to know you, they learned secrets and they learned about the broken pieces you didn’t want anyone to see. She shook her head and then nodded at the server who brought her a similar glass to James’. She lifted her glass to his, clinking it gently. “To a memorable night.”

At his compliment, she shifted in her seat, her hand sliding down his thigh. “And I’m quite sure that I could out perform every single one of them.” Not subtle, not in the slightest, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t here to putz around and pretend like this wasn’t what they were both after. The game of sarcasm and longing looks was over. It was time to take what was hers. And she’d be damned if he felt like he was the one who started any of this.

[ardora-rousseau-blog]

oz-smith‌:

“You’re gonna light me on fire if you glare any harder.” Oz pointed out, still grinning. Sooner or later she would figure out that it took more than a dirty look to scare him off; a trait which came from being the kind of person that drew criticism from nearly everyone. He doubted that she realized that, though. People rarely did, and he was content to let them go on that way unless they specifically asked him. “I do enough traveling that it doesn’t take me long to settle into a new place.” He shrugged, going to work on sawing the omelet in half and silently offering a half portion of it to her. It was big enough of a breakfast that he probably wouldn’t feel splitting it too much, and he could always grab a snack later. 

“As opposed to jokingly?” 

Ardora flattened her expression as he called her out for glaring. She narrowed her eyes, too, trying to figure out what exactly he was aiming to accomplish by engaging with her in the first place. “I don’t know how one gets comfortable enough anywhere to settle as quickly as you did. It’s remarkable. Bravo.” She shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee as he began cutting his omelet in half. When he slid half to her, she was taken aback, accepting it with a slight head tilt. “You really are just this nice of a human being. Where did you come from?” She wouldn’t have ever shared her breakfast, not even with her brother, and she’d do nearly anything for Henrik.

[ardora-rousseau-blog]

angelinelaurent‌:

“May have used all the hot water, you’ll need to wait a few minutes.” Angel was apparently unperturbed by having someone else in the bathroom when they exited the shower. “Fucking awful pipes in this place, I swear.”

Ardora stopped short as they stepped from inside her shower. Tilting her head, she scoffed. “I see my next door neighbor has just started inviting guests over without letting me know. Lovely.” She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted a brow. “But you’re right. The water pressure sucks and the water’s always lukewarm.”

“Who are you?”