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@bctanist
#BCTANIST —— independent & selective LAUREL GATES / MARILYN THORNHILL from tim burton’s wednesday and personal headcanons. established Dec. 2022. cultivated by rae ( 30+, she/her ). warning: blog may contain triggering content. not spoiler free. *rules & verses found below cut.* sideblog to: matriiiarch
"No, I don't." He started shifting way too young, didn't even need the full moon to trigger it, much to his not-wolf father's horror. "Only two. Don't really have much in the way of memories that far back." Though he did remember accidentally summoning the great Baphomet at the tender age of four. But he was never sure how casually bringing that up would fare in civilised conversation.
"Honestly the fact that its expected is a crime. Would you chain the doors of a Christian Church shut on their Holy days?" While the comparison wasn't exactly the same, it made sense for the point he was trying to make. And he was nearly ready to continue his little rant, but the teacher's attempt to imitate what she'd heard the youth say made him laugh an actual laugh, one not laced with bitterness or contempt. "Points for effort."
But realistically, he did think he'd be able to take the creature on. If anything, he might just be the only student in the school that could have any hope if it really came down to it. He'd laugh at the thought. "Yeah, but how many students and mundies have to be slaughtered for anyone to do anything?"
THERE WAS A PART OF HER THAT COULD APPRECIATE the contempt in which he felt. She herself holding some of her own, but that was a different part of her that couldn't be revealed and so, she feigned a simple smile instead behind the veil. Teeth beaming between parted lips while attempting to ensure a sense of ignorance. It boded well in her favor that he thought her silly or even unjaded. ❝ Well, I am sorry to hear that, and I understand your concerns, really. Unfortunately, it really isn't up to me on how things are handled here at Nevermore. ❞ Whether he liked it or not, that was how things were done and in truth, she couldn't care less either way. ❝ The whole point is to prevent any form of slaughtering. But think what you will. Any qualms you may have can be brought up with Principal Weems if it's that important to you. ❞ As long as she continued to feign interest as Marilyn Thornhill, she would do her due diligence in portraying the role she's strived for years to perfect, regardless of how embarrassing that may be for her deep down.
HOPE MIGHT HAVE HAD PSYCHIC abilities , but her being correct had little to do with her numerous gifts and more to do with being able to read people . teeth clamp down upon bottom lip , chewing at it in the wake of loaded though seemingly innocuous question . toes wriggle rapidly in her boot , anxiety creeping in even more than it had before . " honestly , miss thornhill , since activating my vampire side i've been having ... difficulties , you know , adjusting . "
MARILYN COULDN'T EVEN REALLY BEGIN to pretend that she understood or knew what Hope was going through with all of these sudden changes. It wasn't quite like puberty, which she could've helped with, but no. This was different. The last person the triad should be speaking to was a normie of all people who didn't know a thing about anything save for certain things. Not enough to help, though. But it was her job to at least try or be there for moral support even to the slightest degree. ❝ I wish I could say that I did know, unfortunately we both know that isn't the case. ❞ Even if she wanted to, there was no way she'd ever be able to fully comprehend what the other was going through. ❝ If I may ask though, what do you mean? ❞ It might have been a stupid question, but Marilyn was after all maintaining a certain persona to make her out to be more naive than she actually was.
though she was in a coffee shop full of people , this voice is the one that startled her the most , as the rest was background sound ; this was directed right at her. she jolts a bit , wide eyes turning to regard the woman who spoke. she had not gotten in the queue for a drink yet , instead standing apart from the others so that she didn’t get in the way ; it seems this plan did not work as well as she thought it would have. she feels oddly foolish about this. “ no m—miss , i am n—not. “ she responds , as she clasps her hands in front of her. valerie had been doing what she can to be out in public more , through various means. she came here a few times , but never really ordered anything , just watched others go about their business & observed how they interacted with each other. valerie shuffles more to the side to show the other may go on if she so chooses , making a fiddling motion with her hands.
SHE HADN'T MEANT TO STARTLE THE WOMAN the way that she did and suddenly she felt bad about it. Why specifically, wasn't certain. But the confirmation that the other wasn't in line did offer Marilyn the opportunity to step forward. Eye contact made in Tyler's direction behind the counter who merely acknowledged her with a soft nod of the head, already knowing the redhead's usual order. For whatever the reason however, she turned to glance back at the woman she questioned earlier, ❝ I'm sorry. ❞ She begins to say, ❝ I really didn't mean to startle you earlier. I have a tab open, let me buy you a coffee or… something. ❞ By tab she meant it was free, but she wasn't about to go into detail about that. Of course, she expects the woman to refuse, but there was reassurance in her face that indicated a sense of urgency so as not to hold up the rest of the customers waiting in line. ❝ Please, it's my treat. ❞
“woefuller.” she exclaims, visage twisting up in a peculiar way, displaying a grotesque delight. she turns on her toes, walking beside her dorm mom. one success at a time, she’s willingly accepting this honor. albeit wednesday would never admit it verbally nor written, she misses the mother figure of the addams family. she misses morticia. their brawling, their understanding at the end of the day of what actually happened – a war of love, familial love. wednesday need to prove her mother she’s worthy and capable of many terrible things. it’s all linked to a breakdown, in which wednesday gave in to mrs. thornhill's feeble attempts at connecting with her.
a look to her side, wednesday blinks once and sees a splash of color in her mother’s place. the black and white family member she resembles the most is now traded to an auburn clay of hair. had her intentions to catch vocal cords to articulate their contents, she could hear her father’s disappointment. mistaking her mother for a fraud. a blasphemy. no, she has to annihilate that thought before it annihilates her. a shake of the head brings her back to reality, she’s walking down a long corridor with her dorm mom, carrying the violoncello on her shoulder. it can get heavy sometimes, particularly at times when she’s not contemplating morbid thoughts.
“rust only hides the true potential underneath. an ax, albeit rusty, can still be a useful weapon if carefully cleaned up.” a word of encouragement which lies its roots deep into her childhood. the memory of her father showing her how antique weapons have much value when cared for. formative years truly left a mark on her – or, perhaps, she’s just getting emotional, being away from her family. but like her father once said, she is a weapon and weapons don’t weep. “i haven’t had the opportunity to share my interest in classical music with any other person around here.” she no longer considered thornhill a normie, she was, in fact, an outcast, like wednesday.
obsidian hues lock contact with a tall red door at the end of the hall. if that wasn’t the room, she had been cornered by the only teacher she bitterly tolerated. “i appreciate the dreadful placement of this room.” somehow, the petite sleuth hadn’t wandered that far into nevermore academy, a shame truly to her name. with no hesitation, she reaches for the doorknob and opens the door. room seems rather empty, perfect to her needs. she scans around the room, admiring the one place she could be alone. wednesday places the cover for her cello on a desk and opens it before taking a few steps back. “i’m listening.” she adds, dragging a chair beside her, taking a seat.
OF ALL THE INDIVIDUALS WITHIN NEVERMORE ACADEMY, she hadn't expected to become quite so attached to Wednesday Addams. A mixture of affection and hatred all boiled up into one perplexing entity. To a degree, she felt protective and to another, a loathsome state of contradicting hatred that was built upon unknowing falsity. The Addams name in general had been placed upon tongue with a sour taste given her brother's history and yet, little did she know that it was all based on deception. If only someone had told her sooner, she might not have held the implications of destruction so easily. Even with Wednesday's cold and stoic demeanor, Marilyn had come to know her well enough to almost like her. But that hatred was far stronger, regardless of how badly she wished to push it all aside. None of the other outcasts gave her that strange sense of maternal instinct the way Wednesday Addams did and that in itself remained peculiar. Though it wouldn't last long, she told herself, she'd make sure of it. She couldn't let it. At the young girl's words, Marilyn merely acknowledged with a smile and a soft chuckle. What an imaginary way to metaphor rust in such a way that actually made sense, she thought. ❝ How right you are. ❞ She stated with some enthusiasm to tone, though that strictly her mask speaking. No matter the fact that she actually did acknowledge and appreciate those words. Do not get attached, she told herself. Soon enough they reached the entrance of the music room which even to her own surprise, was rarely used. One might have thought otherwise, but as far as Marilyn knew, it was usually mostly always vacant which would suit Wednesday's needs and wants perfectly. Taking a slight pause, she allows for the young Addams girl to take the initiative of moving forward and opening the door, following after her soon shortly thereafter. Hesitation rings violently in the back of her mind. She hadn't played for anyone, not even for herself, in years and she wonders if she could even still manage the right rhythm. Gulping, Marilyn nods at Wednesday's insistence, looking over to find one of the provided cello's along with a bow and bringing it over towards the offered seat. ❝ I, um… again, I haven't done this in quite some time. ❞ But the position came quite easy for her, surprisingly. Cello placed between parted legs while bringing bow at the ready, fingers upon strings until she finally begins to play. Drawing forth a sound that started off slow and almost ominous. She merely felt the sensation instead of playing something cliche or well known and instead, something completely new. Whatever came to mind.
: { Drusilla } :
Hands drawn close to her chest, fingers curling in anticipation of life instead of death. She smiles, too wide, too many teeth, both in the way Marilyn reminds her of a rabbit in the wake of a wolf, and the promise that a black thumb could turn green.
"The most bold promises require the most bold follow-through," she agreed after a moment, though the words were tinged in obvious warning. Should the flowers die, so did the botanist, and she would make the tastiest snack, Dru was sure of that
"Daisies are my most favorite, but lilies and irises and chrysanthemums, they all die as well, and I so love a death flower when it blooms. Can you make them grow as well?
IT WAS DIFFICULT TO GUARANTEE THE LIFE OF A PLANT under such dire circumstances. Flowers weren't immortal, eventually, they would die but with proper treatment and during the right time of year she'd at least be able to keep them in bloom for as long as possible. Thankfully for her, the desired plants requested would all need a decent amount of sunlight to which the vampire was incapable of accompanying. So she'd be able to make it work if she timed it all accordingly in assistance of keeping her own life consistent. The threat however, does not go unnoticed and Marilyn managed to gulp nervously in response. Clearing her throat, she does finally manage to speak. ❝ D-do you, um… have a specific chrysanthemum that you favor? Or I can just, you know what, I'll figure it out. ❞ She feigns an enthusiastic smile in return while nodding her head. ❝ But yes, yes of course I can. It's what I do! ❞
pizzaforensics:
Though it would be and was frowned upon to be flirting with a civilian, it came all too naturally to the deputy. It was something he couldn’t turn off and he wasn’t one to pass up an opportunity to get to know someone. Jericho was a small enough town, though, so he knew that anyone with a set of eyes and a pair of lips would be passing this mornings events off to the little old gossip ladies. Which didn’t bother him any considering he was used to that sort of thing from back home; though he’d been talked about for too many reasons. Also, Marilyn was cute and again, he couldn’t pass up a good thing especially since he wasn’t sure if he’d see her again anytime soon.
Hearing her laugh made him smile, hazel eyes squinting with the smile that was genuine. “They look an’ smell fresh,” he mused, knowing a thing or two about donuts. But also because they didn’t have the texture and smell of having sat out for a day or two. Which, really, wouldn’t have mattered much to him as he still would have ate the stale donuts; they went best with hot coffee anyways. The thought alone made him miss his grandmother then, waking up early to go to church on Sunday’s and how there’d always be donuts from the little grocery store. He sighed softly and gently placed the memories back in their corner as he took a sip of coffee with a hum.
Jason had the first donut polished off before she finally answered him. His smile remained as he leaned back in the seat, wiping his mouth of any crumbs and sugary glaze. “Seattle huh? Can’t say I’ve ever been that far north,” he chuckled, eyes glancing to the other donut on his plate before deciding to hold off on it for now. “Me? Well I’m from a lil town called Bon Temps in Louisiana,” he answered a bit proudly despite his reasonings for moving to Jericho the first time around and even now. “It’s north of New Orleans, lil itty bitty town with not much to it.”
TAKING A SIP OF HER OWN COFFEE AS HE SPOKE, she couldn't help but smile back at him once cup was placed back down. Really, his own was rather contagious, there was a vigor about him that was both skeptical yet fascinating though she couldn't quite put all of the pieces together. Still, it was a rarity in itself that anyone showed her this much attention, especially at Nevermore. Many of the teachers disregarded her entirely in fact, they objected to her presence there as a normie teaching at an outcast academy. So far, the only friend acquaintance she was able to even have at the school was Principal Weems which seemed only paradoxical. Thankfully, the tall women wasn't around although she assumes even if she was, it wouldn't be much of a big deal. It was easy for Marilyn to sort of fall off the woman's radar. She watched as Jason scarfed down the first donut, finding his eating habits rather amusing before they returned back to the subject matter of where they supposedly came from. At least she didn't have to question Jason's veracity. ❝ So I guess, you're used to small towns. ❞ She said with a small smile, ❝ Seattle's a pretty big city, sometimes I miss the cold and the rain. ❞ After so many years of wearing this mask, she was slowly starting to believe the lies herself, allowing them to sound more convincing as she feigns that sense of nostalgia. ❝ Can't say I've ever been to Louisiana, though I have always wanted to go to New Orleans. Especially during Mardi Gras. ❞ A chuckle escapes her then, almost like a soft giggle (at least that part was true). ❝ I like small towns though. I prefer the quiet over a bustling city. ❞ Hands grip at the cup in front of her, eyes glancing down at it for a brief moment as mouth scrunches slightly to the left. ❝ Do you mind if I ask what brought you here, to Jericho? ❞ She asks shyly, meeting his gaze once more.
“I am not okay, but not okay is how I’ve learned to live.”
— Don’t be fooled, M. L. L. (via noblehigh)
@bctanist | elle for her wife laurel
"So, I got good news and bad news," Eleanor opened with as she came up behind her, arms snaking around her waist and kisses left along her wife's neck and shoulder. For a moment, she held her tight, inhaling the scent of her expensive perfume Elle had bought her for their recent anniversary.
"I have to go to a conference a couple of states over, for like, a week. It's going to be boring and shitty and I don't want to, but I have no choice in the matter." The doctor sighed and rubbed her nose against the spot behind Laurel's ear, then pressed her lips against her pulse point.
"However," she continued, pressing her cheek against Laurel's, "I was thinking, instead of getting some shitty hotel that is going to be full with other snobby doctors, I could just bring you along and we rent some fancy little apartment for the week."
YEARS HAD PASSED SINCE THE INCIDENT AT NEVERMORE ; but life moved on. Not without some difficulties, of course, though she eventually found herself happy. Married, ironically to an outcast. The very beings she had threatened attempted to destroy. Eleanor Lipton changed her for the better, growing into a love that surprised even Laurel Gates. People grow and people change. Laurel now found herself in their lavished kitchen, cleaning up some leftover dishes that hadn't been taken care of the night before after dinner. The woman's voice was heard before arms were wrapped around Laurel's waist, causing her to pause in washing the plate in her hands. About to turn her head, she instead tilts it once lips kissed along the side of her neck, a soft hum escaping at the touch though she was eager to hear what Elle had to say. Eventually, she does turn her head, eyes nearly all the way closed while relishing the feel of her wife's embrace. The bad news does warrant a soft whine from Laurel, lips coming to pout after learning Elle would be gone for an entire week at some boring conference. But then the other continued with that single word "however" which suddenly brought some hope. Laurel's eyes slowly opening as cheeks met. Setting the plate down, she grabs the nearest towel to dry her hands and then places both above Eleanor's own, leaning back into her. ❝ Really? ❞ Words beamed before she turned around to face the other, bringing arms to wrap around her wife's neck, pressing their foreheads together. Lips curling into a smile, ❝ I think we should definitely make that happen. ❞
the answer delivered did not meet expectations, visage quick to display a frown. individuals do change, apparently, for the worst. perhaps that’s what happened to her mother, that led to the present moment. wednesday hears thornhill, but the message isn’t filtered – long was the road she took and it seems like she’s going in circles, always arriving at the same stop. it’s futile, but she holds onto the remnants that are left from a word most individuals describe as hope. perhaps she’s looking too closely at the topic, missing important points. it’d be more beneficial to take a step back and look at the bigger picture, that way, reality loses the chance to become distorted, to lack the realistic part.
“all i’m hearing is excuses.” she points out, cue the ghost of a smile that’s hinting on pallid visage. head turns the slightest bit to the side, wednesday now staring at her dorm mom, intrigue glinting in those obsidian hues of hers. “impressive.” single word is given, albeit it’s holding more purpose than a sentence or proper phrase could ever do. it’d be a bad reputation to the addams name had wednesday not plan a little experiment to be carried out. to find the results she’s looking for, one had to test it out. “i’m no stranger to mozart, though it pains me to admit i haven’t laid eyes on a tablature of his for a very long time,” steady pace abruptly stops, attention focused on thornhill. “would you mind entertaining my musical hunger? for old times sake.” there it is, the actual motive laid down in an amicable manner, raising the chances to be fulfilled.
THERE WERE A LOT OF THINGS IN HER PREVIOUS LIFE which had taken pause, though never fully forgotten. Music had been one of them, which is perhaps why she honestly enjoyed the melodies to which Wednesday played at night. It was breaking the rules, but Marilyn never was one to enforce them so long as there were never any complaints. She wanted her girls to trust her, like her, even. Most of them seemed to, though she knew that there would always be that dark cloud hanging over her head with being a normie at an outcast school. Looking towards Wednesday as they walked at her initial response, Marilyn frowned a bit. ❝ If that's what you want to call it. ❞ Excuses was always such a harsh word, triggering almost but she does her best not to let it get to her in such a way. Her mother's voice ringing in her head to which she deliberately ignores. Placing the mask of Marilyn Thornhill back onto expression with a beaming grin. They weren't far from the music room now, still quite surprised that no one had mentioned it to the girl before. Larissa or Enid especially should have at the very least offered the room as an option, but then again, no one seemed to mind hearing the other play even late into the evening. But it's the abrupt stop that causes Marilyn to suddenly pause in her steps, looking towards Wednesday with a slightly perplexed gaze, silently questioning. The inquired request only adding to confusion as brows furrowed. Just the thought of picking up a cello again and playing like she used to was both overwhelming and stimulating. ❝ Oh… I don't know if… ❞ she hesitates, quite honestly surprised by Wednesday's invitation to satiate what she referred to as her musical hunger. Inevitably though, the redhead shifts her expression and manages a small smile. ❝ I'd love to. Though I can't guarantee I'm not a tad bit rusty. ❞ It had been over ten years after all since she'd picked up an instrument, but the idea of it was actually welcoming. ❝ C'mon, it's not far from here. ❞
bctanist:
CONSIDERING A PLACE LIKE NEVERMORE, part of her realized that she probably shouldn't have been as surprised as she was to see a ghost floating through the arboretum. It had simply taken her aback a bit ; caught her off-guard. Clearing her throat, she shifts the glasses on her face upright and shakes her head, not wanting to be offensive by her sudden reaction to the other. ❝ No, no, I'm sorry, I didn't realize - umm… ❞ she wasn't really sure how to finish that sentence. In a way, she was entranced, eyes wide without even realizing it as she practically stared. ❝ Sorry, I've just, never seen or met a…. ghost, before? That is what you are, right? Is this not normal? ❞ Now she was just rambling, how embarrassing.
"Of sorts, yes." Emily nodded, a slight smile playing upon blue lips. "I'm not sure if you'd consider this 'normal', but I come and go as I please, wherever strikes my fancy. Tonight, I wanted a greenhouse, so here I am! I hope you don't mind."
Her smiles broadened as wisps of smoke the color of moonlight begin to swirl around her and each of the plants she'd marveled at. A blue butterfly flitted into the arboretum as if conjured by this strange enchantress, her large dark eyes darting towards it and seeming at once childlike and centuries old.
"Oh, where are my manners? I'm Emily. Is all of this yours?"
THE ROOM HAD BEEN OFF LIMITS FOR CERTAIN REASONS - mostly due to the poisonous plants that inhabited the place. But considering the other was already dead, at least Marilyn wouldn't have to worry about her touching anything she shouldn't. ❝ No, of course not. I don't mind at all. By all means… ❞ words trailed off as she watched the wisps of smoke form around the other, diving between the plants like a gentle caress. The redhead couldn't help but stare, though she tried her best not to be rude. Eyes dazzling, as if mystified, a bit startled once more when the blue butterfly appeared out of no where. She watched as it flew about, seemingly drawn and attached to the other. ❝ Wow. ❞ She muttered softly under her breath before suddenly blinking wildly, head shaking to clear her mind for a moment. ❝ Emily… it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Marilyn Thornhill, the botany professor here at Nevermore Academy. None of this is mine, necessarily. It belongs to the school but, I am in charge of the area. You… like plants, I take it? ❞
𝐩𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐚𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 — indie jason stackhouse from true blood and the sookie stackhouse series. original character and crossover friendly, plot driven, mature and triggering content present, twenty-one and older preferred. penned by char. ( psd credit )
color her impressed , this woman really knew her foliage ! slight upward twist of lips into thoughtful grin , amused . arms then cross ever casually below chest as she leans back even more than she already had . " you really are a botanist , huh ? " question comes and is meant more in humor than anything else . but the humor fades into a serious air , light hearted smile gradually morphing into solemn expression . " ... miss thornhill , " and with that , she leans forward with her elbows propped upon her knees and her hands folded together . " i gotta confess , i had a feeling that i'm here for more than just talking about plants ... "
THAT SLIGHT FORM OF FLATTERY DOESN'T GO UNNOTICED in fact, Marilyn does seem to blush a bit if only because she isn't used to many outcasts actually recognizing her expertise. ❝ I mean, that's why Principal Weems hired me. I doubt she'd hire some sap off the streets. ❞ There was a jest in there, but she could muse about it on her own. She really did have a fascination with plants in general, ever since she was a little girl. But she wasn't about to go there. Pushing up her glasses a bit, she does take note of the fact that it seemed as if the other had more to say or question and of course, when it's finally revealed, she isn't the least bit surprised by Hope's observation. With smile soon fading, even if only slightly, Marilyn clears her throat and clasps fingers together while placing them on top of her desk. ❝ You're right. Honestly, I wanted to check in on you. Nothing extravagant just, how are you doing here? ❞
Of all the instructors at 𝙽𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 , Ms. Thornhill was the one she endured with 𝘁𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗮𝗹 𝘃𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻. Being the advisor to the hall that she resided on while at the academy meant she would see even more of the woman that was quite her opposite ; 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒅 in presence of her personality and in the ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛᴇɴᴀɴᴄᴇ of her features. Wednesday’s hands remained close to her sides , slightly balled into bunches. Any direct correspondence she had with the staff put her on edge , usually because it was in the form of 𝖛𝖎𝖌𝖔𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖘 𝖗𝖊𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖉. She detected something about Ms. Thornhill that she wasn’t just a 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐞. That there was something else about her that she couldn’t 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒆 put a mark of approval or disapproval on. That somewhere within the 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 that determined the black and white shades of right and wrong , something wasn’t quite 𝗷𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 with her inward thought processes about her.
❝ I learned by 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 more than 𝗱𝗼𝗰𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗲 , ❞ she briefly ᴀʀᴛɪᴄᴜʟᴀᴛᴇᴅ , eyes never quite wavering from her. ❝ She spent the majority of her time in the 𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐦 , even with the handful that my brother and I were. ❞ She almost afforded a smile , but then thought better of it. ❝ I make it a 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 to know a little bit on every subject. ❞
THERE WAS ALWAYS SUCH AN INTENSITY to Wednesday that even Marilyn had to admire, to a degree. It was irritating. Something about her long, lingering stare made the redhead uncomfortable for several reasons though she did her best not to make that known. As long as Ms. Thornhill's mask was on, she felt as if she still held an advantage. The tricky part was to ensure that the young girl would hold no suspicion towards her (and here she thought manipulating Principal Weems was going to be the hardest part of her game). ❝ That is a great skill to have. ❞ She mused with acknowledgement before a light chuckle is presented. ❝ I used to be a handful for my parents as well, most kids are, I presume. Especially with family. As a teacher, I only get to see certain sides of my students. ❞ She pauses briefly, wanting to shut off that brief moment of Laurel aside in the back of her mind. No need to go down that rabbit hole, she thought, nor allow it to bleed into Marilyn's psyche. Smiling again, that same perky persona beaming with interest. ❝ So then, what would you say is your favorite subject? ❞
: { Drusilla } :
It's always been interesting to hear the words that drop from lips when death is on the line. Always wealth, or power, or items, all as useless to her as a toy boat.
This one, this one offers her help with daisies, which always wilt and die beneath her fingertips.
"Fickle as the cards," she agrees, fingers tapping together lightly, almost plucking at the air as she steps closer still, peering at the woman.
"You can make them live? Make them thrive?"
Perhaps a meal could wait.
MARILYN DOES MANAGE TO TAKE A SINGLE STEP BACK while the other continued to approach. Eyes remaining wide like a deer caught in headlights, not wanting to blink or shift gaze away for a second should the vampire choose to pounce. But then there is that slight shimmer of the potential for relief by the other's words, the redhead nodding her head almost profusely. Still knowing full well that it wasn't guaranteed Drusilla wouldn't change her mind at some point whenever she felt Marilyn to be useless to her. ❝ Oh, yes in fact, they're my specialty! I'm a botanist, it's what I do. I specialize in plants. I could help you grow whatever you wanted! ❞
bctanist:
pizzaforensics:
Seeing as this morning was going slow, it was only an indicator of how the rest of the day would be like. Jericho was somewhat quiet or it had been back in the day though he supposed that’s what happened when one left for a bit. However, no one knew he had lived in the small town years prior to showing up and taking the position at the station. And that’s how he liked it and would keep it.
So, as far as everyone in town and at the academy knew ( with the exception of a very tall headmistress ) Jason Stackhouse was new in town. Shaking her hand, he gave a nod with a polite smile, “I thought ya looked familiar. But yea…” he sighed, hand falling back to his side with a chuckle, “always on the move. ‘Til this mornin’…things seem ta be mellow an’ that’s alright with me.” He was probably jinxing it all, but he was simply stating the obvious. The line began to move, barely, so he shuffled along with the movement though his eyes remained on Marilyn. “Would ya like ta have coffee? I mean when I finally get mine an’ that’s if you don’t gotta run off back to the school yet.”
WITH HAND NOW BACK TO THE PLATE IN HAND, she was genuinely surprised by the other’s interest. She didn’t usually talk to anyone outside of Nevermore and even then, being the only ‘normie’ did cause some issues for concern. Most didn’t acknowledge her let alone make a point to converse and so, the fact that Jason Stackhouse was engaging, did leave her a bit stunned. ❝ Well… I’m glad to hear things are pretty tame for you. ❞ For now, she thinks. Smirk curling across pale lips, that is, until his latter inquiry which somewhat takes her off guard. Eyes flickering at him, she hesitates briefly before shoulder shrugs in what she could only attempt as a casual response. ❝ Yeah… um, once I get my coffee I can, meet you over in the corner. ❞ She gestures with a quick gaze towards the back corner booth. ❝ I’m not in any rush. ❞ She smirks, eyes looking towards Tyler briefly with a particular gaze that was subtle. It wouldn’t take long after that, that her order was ready and Jason was allowed to order whatever he needed. ❝ I’ll see you at the booth. ❞ Smirk still displayed even as she picks up her coffee and goes towards the booth in which she had selected. Fingers picking at the donut in front of her.
Though this was the first time they had spoken, he knew who she was and not because of his ability. Marilyn had been the talk of the town as she was the first normie to be allowed to teach at Nevermore. Every little old lady in their gossip circles were talking about the newest member of faculty at the freak show of a school. He paid no mind to the murmurs ( he knew the school did good and he was proof of that ) and went about his way most days. But even he had been surprised to learn of the redhead getting a teaching position especially since he thought that wasn’t allowed.
“Me too,” he mused with a small chuckle, arms coming to fold across his chest. It beat having to run all over town and further out of town so he’d take the slow day as a win. His attention, however, was solely on Marilyn Thornhill and getting to know her; he always had been forward when someone caught his eyes. “I’ll meet ya over there,” he nodded with a bright smile, noting the smirk she had.
Jason turned to look towards the menu, now second guessing his usual order. “Yes ma’am,” he murmured with a grin, giving Marilyn another nod as he watched her walk off before attention returned to the menu. It only took another couple minutes before he finally got his own coffee ( he decided against being adventurous for today ) as well as two fresh baked donuts; he could have easily eaten two dozen by himself. Once he had acquired his breakfast, the deputy came over to the booth and joined the teacher, sliding in across from her. “They looked so good I had ta get two,” he chuckled, plate placed in front of him before he picked one up and took a bite, groaning slightly at the taste.
Swallowing the bite in his mouth, remembering his manners, he wiped his mouth before he spoke again, “So, Marilyn, are ya from around here or a transplant like myself?”
IT CERTAINLY WASN'T OFTEN THAT SHE GOT HIT ON, most of the time whenever she wanted someone to hit on her they ignored her entire existence. So this was somehow a nice change of pace that she hadn't expected. Still, she had to be careful. Especially when considering two very important facts ; that 1. he was an outcast and 2. he was a deputy of the town. There were other reasons as well, of course, but she didn't want to think too heavily on those just yet. Her interest was, surprisingly genuine given the circumstances and in truth, she hated that. Yet, here she was, sitting at a corner booth in a coffee shop with the very type of being she had sworn to despise entirely. But when he sat down and began to speak, she couldn't help but smile and laugh. It had been a long time since anyone made her laugh, outside of feigned responses on her part. This laugh was pure and over something completely minor and ridiculous. She felt silly, and she liked it. ❝ I do hear they make them fresh every morning. ❞ She doubted that was true, but it was besides the point. The inquiry of her past and where she was from does give some hesitation though she tries not to make it obvious. Most people didn't ask about her, no one ever really seemed to care. The most interaction she had with anyone wanting to get to know her was her interview at Nevermore and even then, it was mostly credentials and experience histories. But that's how she usually preferred it. Not wanting to risk giving anything away when it came to actual truths. Sometimes, it made her feel bad. Lying all of the time. Lying to everyone. Lying to the people she actually grew to like. ❝ I uh… well, I guess I'm a transplant. ❞ No, she wasn't. Far from it, in fact, but she couldn't say that she was born and raised in Jericho with an entire family history that dated back to its first (pilgrim) settlers. ❝ I'm actually from…. Seattle. How about you? ❞
