midnight rain @isabelladesoto - Tumblr Blog

THE ENCHANTER - Isabella Sofia De Soto

pinterest. playlist. musings.(TBD)

CHARACTER INSPO: Yennefer (The Witcher.) Cassandra (Promising Young Woman.) Alina Starkov (The Grisha series), Nancy Wheeler (Stranger things.) & Fallon Carrington (Dynasty.)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: bad parenting, bribery, blackmail, missing persons, mental health issues unspecified, injury

#hmbintro #bad parenting tw #bad mental health tw #missing persons tw #black mail tw #injury tw

arcan3ly

the worst part was that clay knew everything her father said. he wasn’t good enough. the eldest calhoun brother could have told her father that an hour ago and saved the charade. as he stared at the other, his mouth pulled into a line—the insults ricocheted off of his frame as though he was a sheet of bulletproof glass. he couldn’t give isabella a home, a roof over her head, land to call her own, but he could give her love. maybe to the older male that wasn’t enough but, for clay, he was handing isabella the world on a silver platter. “she ain’t givin’ up her dreams.” he spoke, his voice never once cracking. “we’re happy. and i love her. an’ that might not be enough for people like you, but it’s enough for us. it’s a sad life, thinkin’ the only worthy thing to give is money.”

he was from a part of the world were marriages were often transactional, but he could promise isabella that wasn’t the case with them. she may have been giving up warmth, comfort, but she had forever in the palms of her hands, and he wouldn’t hesitate in giving her his everything. “maybe i ain’t got nothin’ to give her,” clay’s shoulders rose in a shrug, “but what i got is true. she deserves somebody to love her without the bells an’ whistles.” clay may have been a cowboy, but he wasn’t going to ride off into the sunset. he wasn’t going to run like a horse through an open gate. he was hers, and she was his, even if they needed to build their life back up from the ground.

he was testament to the fact that parents were merely dead weight, to be cut away like a rotten branch. his eyes, cold steel, burrowed into isabella's father’s, pearled with a sheen of tears—anger? love? he wasn’t entirely sure. maybe all fathers deserved to be lost in a kick-up of dust. clay’s own father was back in tennessee, with the same hairline as him, with the same golden locks; the miles between them would never feel like enough. saving hunter and their youngest brother all those years ago had been the best decision he had ever made, and he wished nothing more than to rip isabella away from the man that threatened to lay a hand upon her. “yeah,” clay spoke over his shoulder, shooting one last dagger into the eyes of the man that they’d lost the years to, “let’s get the hell outta here,”

the spring night licked at their cheeks as they burst out of the home. the ground was soft beneath clay’s boots, and a bitter coastal wind spun his straw like hair in a wave. nothing else mattered though, after the whirlwind that had just whipped through an evening that was meant to be a truce between men forever at war. a line had certainly been drawn in the sand, even if it hadn’t been the one clay or isabella had been hoping for. finally, they were free—they were cut loose from the shackles keeping them to the ground. “i’m okay, sweetheart,” clay assured, leaning into her hold, resting his forehead against her own. those blue eyes blinked away the shimmer that had formed, swallowing down the tears before they broke. “are you okay?”

isabelladesoto

Never in the wildest untamed parts of her imagination did Isabella think this would be her life- estranged from her parents, haunted by the unanswered questions of what happened to her sister, more scars both mental and physical from her time on broadway and no more certain of the next step now than she had been at eighteen. At least then, the future felt like forever away, and she had that innocent sense of immortality that clung to her like a second skin. She could have been and done anything she wanted. She didn't know then all the ways it would scar her.

Her relationship with her parents was never the sunny ideal she hoped for, her mother didn't teach her how to do her makeup or tell her about what it meant to become a woman and leave girlhood in her memories. Her father did not show her the soft ways she deserved to experience love, or how to take care of herself. It was all money and power and she knew in their own way that was as good as love. It was all the De Soto's could offer one another. It was endless in some ways. The protection from the outside, the safety net it was always there but it did not make up for the warmth of home that Isabella had been chasing her entire life, so much so that she made a career out of pretending to be someone else.

Tears blurred her vision, the echo of her father's voice muffled behind the door. She felt like she was underwater, her body trembled with latent adrenaline, and for a moment, she hadn't registered what Clay had said. She blinked away the urge to cry, "I don't understand what just happened. Not really." She swallowed and lifted her head, dried the tears that wisped her waterline, and squared her shoulders. "I have some of my own money. A good fair bit, actually. I'll be fine. We will be fine." She said, unable to face the reality that this may have been the last time she'd ever see her parents in any meaningful way. In some ways it felt like they were dying and her shoulders slumped with a quiver that shot through her body. "I can't stand here," Isabelle said and took off down the paved driveway walking quickly until it ended and turned into pastures of grass and dirt near the horse stables. She stopped and tossed her head back in frustration a low sob rattled her chest and she shook her head. "Why are they like this?" She whispered the words, strained painfully to be heard as she looked to Clay for some sort of answer knowing perhaps neither of them would ever truly know.

#chat. clay #abusive parent tw

rjbeckett-deactivated20230721

“Nah, this is me wanting to know.” RJ said with the utmost sincerity. His life was a bit out of sorts right now with own life and the whereabouts of Serena had been on his mind as of late with the sudden news of his discombobulated family. At least they were all visibly present and he knew that they were alive (some for now) and well. It made him all the more curious about someone he'd considered a good friend. His desire to be the best at work got the better of Beckett. As a result, his status as a husband, father, son, and friend became incredibly fragile. Now he was trying to do his best to repair the damages he unintentionally and unknowingly created. “Me. Peachy. I’ve definitely seen better days.” Everyone had their own baggage. It was a matter of just giving a damn enough about someone else for a few moments that you were able to dig out some of the unearthed truth they held close within themselves.

“No, I haven’t. I’ve been wanting to ask your parents, but…” They didn’t seem too concerned by their demeanor. A lot of people were privy to keeping things tucked in. No one wanted to be the town piranha, source, or victim of the gossip and rumor mill. It could be relentless. “I’ve asked the police department for any leads and they just tell me it's a closed case. There’s nothing further to look into, but that’s bullshit.”

isabelladesoto

"I don't have much nice to say. Nothing suited to polite chatting- I found out my father threatened Clay all those years ago when we got into some trouble, and that's why he stayed away. I was engaged." She held up an empty ring finger. The lighter band of flesh hadn't fully faded yet, "Now I'm not. I gave up a career on Broadway- but honestly, I don't think I could go back." Isabella paused the phantom ache of her injury, stalling her thoughts. "No one asks to know the truth...it's not always pleasant and people don't tend to care for the unpleasant parts." She gave him a knowing look but did not press. Isabella wasn't the type- if someone wanted to share, they would. If not unless she had good reason to she'd leave it for another time.

Isabella's frown deepened. "I hear my mother crying sometimes. I don't go over often. I think they're concerned over their image- or maybe they know something." Isabella drifted the thought into the open- she had thought it for awhile, maybe the worst had happened to Serena and they didn't know how to face it- Isa needed answered regardless she needed to know or there would always be this nagging push keeping her from truly moving on with her life. "I know it's bull shit." She hushed quietly grabbing his arm as she leaned in a bit, "I've been looking into it...on my own." She whispered between them unsure of how he'd take it- but she was tired of not talking, tired of not looking for help.

#chat. rj #missing persons tw

lalitakahn

lalita had made her way behind the counter when she had looked at the woman in front of her. "This woman looks just like you.." she told her a bit curious about the photo in front of her. was this girl playing a joke on her? "okay, we got more new age over the last three years." she confessed. "but i do have some books before then..do you know when she may have been in here?"

isabelladesoto

"Yea, I've been told we're twins." Isabella's response was sardonic and snappy, she frowned, realizing herself and took a deep breath and offered an apologetic look followed by shuffling silence. Maybe she'd gotten more than her fathers eyes and her mothers long fingers perfect for playing piano. Perhaps she got more of their less attractive qualities as well. Isabella worried her bottom lip. "She's been missing since last June..." She dropped her shoulders and put the photo away. "So anytime before then. We've lived her our entire lives. She was more of a movies girl than a books type tho."

#chat. lalita #missing persons tw

harpcrkclly-deactivated20230718

"Yeah, for remembrance and death. Veterans Day, Memorial Day. They're placed on tombstones represent eternal sleep." Harper offered, and then immediately swallowed it back with skepticism for her own memory after the woman said she'd read a book on flower language. But didn't remember. "Now I'm starting to doubt myself. You know what--" She took out her phone and did a quick Google search. "Yep, there we go. Found it!" Holding out the phone to the brunette, Harper smiled. "Random fact of the day for me." A brow raised at the thought of not being able to paint herself. And being shamed for enjoying her likeness. "I'd honestly follow you into war. You're just so...charismatic." Beautiful. She said with starry-eyes after listening. "I'm Harper."

isabelladesoto

Isabella frowned. Misery, eternal sleep- on and on it seemed like a good fit. She wondered if her parents would realize the meaning. If her mother and her friends had conversations on the languages of flowers or did they only discuss that shallow and vapid ways they could impose themselves to importance. It was a bitter, fleeting thought and she smiled demurely. "I didn't doubt you." She assured. Isabella had been complimented plenty- it came with the life she led and not often did she pay it mind but there was a special satisfaction to a compliment from someone who stood to gain nothing from you. She smiled in earnest and pointed a flower outwards at the blonde, "And what florals do we take into battle?" She asked shifting the flowers to gently fan hair from her face, "Isabella. It's lovely to meet you. The flattery doesn't hurt either."

#chat. harper

archivist-goldfish

#body image tw #visage. isabella

arcan3ly

although he could masquerade as being a part of violet’s world, clay was far from it. he was a boy born from mud, soil, hay—he didn’t belong in such grandiose locations, and that was alright with him. him and violet could settle down on their own ranch, someday. they could take the wealth she was accustomed to and plant it as seeds, create an empire for themselves and a family of their own. a few years ago such a thing seemed as though it was a work of fiction—now, with violet in his arms, their future was a real possibility. “not even then. i ain’t scared of him,” clay assured as they slowly swayed to the music, their bodies as one. if the evening could have stayed like that, he would have been happy. of course, for the couple who had strung together the remaining threads of their old life, happiness was something as difficult to wrangle as a rope whipping through the wind. violet’s cursing had the blonde glancing over one shoulder, one hand breaking from resting against her side, the other protectively looped around her middle just in case her father turned sour. he wasn’t sure whether or not mr de luca was as evil as his own father but, that night, he wasn’t taking any chances.

for the most part, clay remained silent. his blue eyes scanned from violet, to her mother, to her father, as though he was watching a particularly tense tennis match. it wasn’t until violet stepped out of his hold that he moved, too, standing against her as a bodyguard, staring down her father—and his boss—with a gaze of steel. “she’s her own person,” spoke clay, without even a tremor in his voice, “an’ she can love anybody she damn well pleases. we ain’t gonna show you respect after you’ve stripped me of the respect i’m owed, all this damn time. you treat me like the dirt on your shoe ‘cus i’m different, ‘cus you wanted you daughter to marry somebody she didn’t love all to preserve your perfect little empire.” it was then the facade fully broke, spitting at de luca’s feet as though he was raising the gauntlet for a saloon duel. “i ain’t scared of you no more. none of this was my doing. all i ever did was love your daughter an’, if that’s such a damn crime, then you can sure as hell lock me up and throw away the key. she’s feisty, she’s stubborn, and i love her—her talkin’ back to you is just what you deserve.”

he realised, then, that his days at the ranch were over. his wrangling the chickens, his fixing the fences—he would forever miss it, aching for a slice of the country whenever his truck rumbled on by. for violet, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. the moment mr de luca’s hand raised, clay clasped his fingers around his wrist and seized the man’s arm. maybe he wasn’t going to hit her, but clay’s muscle memory was a strong thing—he had endured enough nights on the end of his father’s knuckles to put himself between his boss and the love of his life. “she don’t need your damn help. you keep your hands off of her,” he seethed, a vein throbbing at his forehead, his neck flushed red with fury. "i hope everybody 'round here has seen what a piece of shit you really are tonight. maybe you think you can go around, treatin' people like dirt—" he released the man's arm, wiping his own palm against his leg as though it was now filthy, "—but you ain't treatin' her like dirt no more."

isabelladesoto

Violet had rebelled her entire life, she had never needed anyone to help her along the way. She pushed the boundary of what was accepted in polite society, in her parents world and felt all the better for it. It'd brought her to a world she loved, a world where she could have been anyone and anything. A world where she could have real influence and real love. She felt it when Clay moved to her side, always near reminding her that the years that had past were just says. A trickle in the grand scheme of what he was promising her. Her fingers curled around her hand at her side, but her eyes did not leave her fathers face.

The middle-aged man scoffed, her large chest shook and he looked at Clay with such contempt that if looks could kill...Violet didn't want to think about it, think about what her father was capable of doing. She held Clay's hand tighter and her father narrowed his eyes at Clay, "It's nothing to do with being different and everything to do with the underwhelming reality of everything you lack, boy." Mr. De Luca corrected with a sharp grimace, "You have nothing to give her. Love is good, and it is often misguided and easily lost. So what you love her. Will that be enough when you've got her living in a trailer giving up her dreams?" Violet interjected his cruelty just as her mother had harshly whispered his name. A warning if Violet had ever seen one.

He was not easily deterred, "You're not different. You're just not good enough." Mr. De Luca argued back, and Violet held up a hand. "I say what's good enough for me. I say what I want. I choose. Me. Not you. If you must insist on this hatred, then you don't need to be a part of my life." Her mother gasped as if she'd been struck. Her green eyes that mirrored Violet's swam with unshed tears. Violet knew she wouldn't say anything, for whatever reasons her mother had always allowed her father to lead. Furthering the wedge between them that now felt like a valley impossible to bridge.

Violet flinched as her father's hand rose. She was not often struck as a girl, but there had been a time or two enough that she would not soon forget what it felt like to have knuckles sting her cheeks. The impact she'd expected never came and her eyes opened to realize it was Clay who stood between herself and her father's ire. By now the commotion had drawn countless eyes swinging their way, it was a proper spectacle between them all and all Violet could see was them...but most importantly him. Violet wrapped herself securely to him. "Look at yourself, daddy." She said softly, "All this damage...all this pain and suffering. You did that." Violet wiped the tears that had fallen at her cheeks.

"Let's get out of her, Clay." She said without tearing her face away from her parents. Her mother had begun to cry, something Violet was unsure she was capable of until now. Begging her husband to do something, anything. "She's made her choice. She wants to throw away her life-" He did not finish his sentence, he threw up his arms and finally looked to his guests, grabbing a whiskey glass he left them there. "Stop gawking it's a party everyone -" He disappeared and Violet looked to her mother, "I'm sorry mom." She said to which her mother merely nodded as Violet left her childhood home. Once the door closed at her back she slumped and took several deep breaths to slow her racing heart. "Are you okay?" She asked, once she calmed enough either palm gently held on either side of his face.

#chat. clay #spring event #hmbevent2 #bad parenting tw #parental abuse tw

lalitakahn

lalita had loved her little bookstore. it was something she had worked hard to create as her own once her father had bought it for her. although it was in california she had did her best to make it a cozy little small town vibe book store. she tried to keep the popular and weirdest books in stock so everyone could find something they enjoyed. when she had presented the card lalita took it in her hand and looked at it. "oh you need your stamp." she mused. "that would be me. which is strange because i spend so much time in here.. today our paths cross and for good reasonings." she pointed out. moving to the counter she had grabbed her stamp pad and stand but paused when she dabbed it in the pad. "customer log?" she asked her curiously. "that depends... you arent trying to stalk someone are you?"

isabelladesoto

Violet took the few steps to follow Lalita into the store, a polite smile gracing her features as she got to the point of what she wanted. More than the stamp. "Sorta." She admitted honestly and pulled out a photograph of her and her identical twin sister. She tapped a finger over the image, "Serena De Luca." She said, sliding the photo across to her. She'd be damned if she let her parents continue to dictate how she looked for her sister. "She may have bought a few books from you- I don't know, maybe not. I'm just chasing down anything to see if it leads to an answer."

#chat. lalita #missing persons tw

just-foster

Foster sometimes wondered what people might've thought when he left town. He didn't kid himself into thinking there were be many people who cared, but the way he'd left so abruptly, no contact with anyone except a very choice few — there had to be someone who thought he had died. Probably more who took bets on how long he'd survive. No one would've guessed he'd end up here again, safe and alive — least of all him....

But he hadn't had a sister to keep him tethered to this place, no parents too afraid to find bad news. These circumstances weren't even remotely the same, and Foster wasn't the type to give out false hope just because it was easy. "No," he said, shaking his head. "I can't say that I have."

isabelladesoto

Violet drew a stabilizing breath, so deep that maybe if she were lucky, all the air could fill the hole inside of her where her sister was supposed to be, and as she held the breath, slowing time, it seemed to work. Only for a moment because that sort of suffering didn't care what you used to fill the void it crept into spaces you didn't even realize were there. It took over and hollowed you out all over again.

Violet exhaled and nodded. He was at least honest. She could respect that far more than the platitudes that most others in the know offered. Their condolences were almost as hollow as Violet was. Little offerings of shallow things looking for a morsel of her sadness. Something interesting they could tell their friends when asked about this small town haunted by the grief of half a woman. She could see right through those people, all their motives bare and boring. Honesty was refreshing, and so Violet ordered two more shots and slid one to him in silent thanks before knocking hers back in one gulp. "Most people would have lied to me." She responded, "But they know as much as I do that this isn't one of those no news is good news things." She exhaled her shoulders slumping. It was looking like whoever Serena met here wasn't showing and Violet was no more closer to answers now than she was weeks or months ago. All she had were frayed ribbons that made up a life she struggled to make sense of.

#chat. matty #mising persons tw

just-foster

Foster didn't ask why she told him over anyone else. Sometimes secrets needed to be shared with an impartial third party, and he'd learned to hide so much of himself, it wasn't the first time someone had seen whoever they needed him to be. A confidante, a one-night lover, the perfect stranger molded in their own image... Foster felt the most alive when he existed in these ephemeral spaces, when someone needed him in a way that cost him very little. He didn't collect secrets, but still they found their way to him, and he guarded every one close to his chest.

He only nodded when she asked him if he wanted a shot, taking it when it was offered and pouring it down his throat. "How long has she been gone?"

isabelladesoto

Violet tossed back the shot and promptly ordered two more. Twirling the empty shot glass,, "A year in June." She informed him with a tilt of her head. "It's very unlike her." She took a deep breath, "I think my parents are afraid to find out the worst...so am I." She admitted to a vulnerability Violet would never have fallen into on a normal night. "We missed our thirty-fifth birthday and I think that's when it settled in for me that something was terribly fucking wrong." Violet mused, "You ever hear of someone missing for a year and coming back unscathed...alive?"

#death tw #missing persons tw #chat. matty

arcan3ly

nothing would separate violet and clay again, not over his dead body. regardless of her father’s threats, of the worries tied to the wellbeing of his brothers, clay was here to stay—he had made a promise, and if there was one thing known about cowboys it was that a vow was a vow. the straw-haired ranchhand had attempted to dress up for the occasion, but even with a chambray collar to shield the redness of his neck and a last-minute shave, he was still just clay. rugged, hardened by the years, he stood next to violet, staring at he looming door in front of them and wishing the ground could swallow them both whole. his calloused fingers took hold of her hand, squeezing, offering a sweet smile that silently promised her things would be okay, that he wouldn’t leave no matter how uncomfortable the evening became. clay’s entire childhood had been discomfort. he could brave a few hours. “maybe we need things to change,” the male assured, "maybe we need to wipe that smug smile off your dad's face. there ain't nothin' he can say to take me away from you now i got you back."

eager to make a good impression towards those he knew and those he didn’t, he politely thanked the unfamiliar woman and reached his spare hand for her to shake. “ma’am.” clay spoke, following violet with a clueless bumble, his spit-shined ropers far from appropriate among the brogues and leather shoes. his nose scrunched as the music hit him—it wasn’t waylon, johnny cash, hank williams, and so it was far from familiar. “you’re gon’ be fine, i promise. there ain't anythin’ they can say that can tear us apart. they ain’t gonna be happy about it,” clay had already come to terms with such a thing, “but does it matter, ‘s long as we’re happy?” a fleeting smile was flashed to an onlooker as bodies flooded past them. his shoulders buckled, feeling sweat heavy his handlebar moustache, his back prickling with goose flesh. "c'mon, girl—you look pretty as a picture tonight, by the way. if i ain't told you yet."

isabelladesoto

Violet knew things needed to change. The fact that Clay stood in her parent's foyer a plus one guest rather than the boy she used to sneak in the summer she turned eighteen was a small change, but Violet knew her parents were encased in amber, stuck in a time not even Violet had ever belonged to no matter how hard she tried. Smoothing her palm down the front of his shirt, she smiled, and her nose scrunched, "Not even if he threatens to steal away your favorite album or your most prized possession?" Violet half teased in an attempt to smooth her nerves. Part of her was in a hurry to see them, to demand they give her answers. Another selfish part of her wanted to keep Clay to herself for as long as possible.

If she didn't know, she'd say he fit seamlessly into this world that she'd masqueraded in her entire life, but the polite way he greeted the staff and shook her hand gave him away, and Violet couldn't have been happier for it. Violet held his hand, her eyes scanning the room nervously. "I'm happy." As happy as she could be, at least where he was concerned, there was happiness. Violet swayed in front of him, both her hands on his chest, "You can tell me as much as you like." She cooed her arms over his shoulders just in time to see her parents spot them from behind him,"Shit." She breathed quietly and put a forced smile on her lips as she righted them both to face her parents.

Years of their meddling had come to a head and her mother's face paled as a twisted polite smile fell out of place on the matriarchs face. Her father was a stone of a man approaching them with his hands in his pockets. It was Mr. De Luca who spoke first, "Violet I didn't realize you were seeing Mr. Calhoun again. What happened to your fiance?" Violet sucked a sharp breath Jesse had become a ghost in her life thanks to her and it was something she'd have to contend with on her own, but the cool indifference he faced them with filled her with rage. "Oh fuck me. Cut the bull shit, dad." Violet seethed dropping all pretenses of the polite daughter they tried to force her to become.

Mrs. De Luca's smile dropped, and her eyes darted sharply at her daughter, "Violet Isobel De Luca, how dare you think you can speak to your father that way. Show him some respect." Violet's gaze volleyed between her parents, "Respect is earned, Mother." She said evenly despite the tremble that extended into her hands. "I know what you did." She said pointedly at her father. "Go ahead, Dad. Threaten him again." Violet stepped boldly closer, "Threaten me, Dad." She dared and shook her head. "You both control Serena where she is. Who knows...it's detrimental." She left no room for them to interject, "You can't keep controlling me too."

Violet's chest heaved with a shuddering breath, her mother looked close to tears, and her father's face was impassive except for the red at his temples and the vein thumping in his neck. "You did what?" Mrs. De Luca asked, clutching her necklace. "It was for her own good." He insisted, gesturing with a nod toward Clay. "This encourages the worst in our daughter. Do you think she'd talk to us this way if it wasn't for him?" Her father angled his body between them and their gues towering over Violet as he looked down at her, "I did not raise to be such a mouthy woman. You continue to push every boundary I make as if it isn't in your best interest."

Violet scoffed close to tears, "You wouldn't know a damn thing about what is best for me." Violet sniffled the rage of a fire in the pit of her stomach. "You don't know what's best for anyone. Not me, and Lucas, and not Serena!" She practically screamed, to which her father rose a hand as if he would slap her face; instead, he pointed curling his fingers into a fist. "This is a mistake, Violet, and if you can't come to that conclusion yourself you can say goodbye to any help from your mother and I in the future."

#chat. clay #bad parenting tw #abusive parent tw #missing persons tw

rjbeckett-deactivated20230721

"Shit, I'm sorry," he said tossing up a hand at Violet. If it was Serena, he would have damn near lost his mind. One day she was here and then it was a few days before he realized that she was gone. Not a trace to be found. Some people had the impulsivity of going off the grid without letting a soul in the world know. Serena never seemed the type as far as he was concerned. Yet, when he heard the various speculations and the lack thereof trying to pinpoint where the woman was, it was radio silence. His own tendencies had him looking into things, but he only ever ended up short. Bothering the De Luca about the whereabouts of their daughter didn't seem like an easy question either.

"Uh yeah, I was. Wanna grab a table?" he asked before opening the door for the brunette to head in first. He was starving, slightly sleep-deprived, and was looking forward to stuffing his face with nothing but carbohydrates for the next forty-five minutes or so. "How've you been?"

isabelladesoto

Violet almost said no, but the soft grumbling of her stomach reminded her that she'd failed to eat anything of substance all day, and instead of undoing all her plans, she nodded and walked into the restaurant. Violet sat across from him and pushed her hair back behind her shoulders, a sardonic chuckle, and she shook her head. "Is this a polite how are you where I say, just fine, and you?" She asked with a slight tilt of her head and a more friendly smile for the old friend, "Or is this something you actually want to know?" Violet mused, "If it's the former- I'm wonderful. How have you been?" She said with a forced smile blinking back the frustration that shadowed her face more than not these days. It wasn't all bad, but enough was bad that she felt the weight of it on her shoulders grinding her down into a flimsy slip of someone she'd sometimes not recognized.

When the waitress came Violet ordered for herself and waited for her to leave before she faced Rj again. "Have you seen my sister since all of this?" She asked her hands in her lap. Her parents had done their best bribing whoever needed to keep this out of the news. But Half Moon Bay was a small town, people talked. Violet wished they'd scream.

#chat. rj #missing persons tw #bribery tw

harpcrkclly-deactivated20230718

Wandering into Alena Jeans wasn’t a regular occurrence. A sort of spur of the moment curiosity when she randomly thought I want flowers for her house and somehow made a beeline to the shop. Mindlessly searching for an arrangement that stuck out to her, Harper was surprised to be presented by a different choice entirely. “Hm.” A breath of thought, gaze darting between the two. “I mean poppy’s kinda revolve around death in a way, don’t they? Not sure about tulips. They might actually symbolize exactly what you want them to for all I know.”

isabelladesoto

Violet rose her brows in interest, "Poppies symbolize death?" She questioned, her interest piqued and knowing it would be the best silent scream of all she'd felt. Her mother would hate it, and the petty part of her soul careened towards passive aggression. "I read a book on the language of flowers years ago, but I hardly remember it all." She said, placing the tulips back in search of poppies instead. "Fruit meant things too." She added after the fact. "There is actually a lot said in the symbolism of art and flowers." Violet continued, "Did you know it was considered vain, frivolous and shameful for women to paint themselves?" She asked, plucking a bouquet of poppies. "Women being shamed for enjoying their likeness since we learned how to put shit on walls." Violet scoffed. She'd always been favored for her looks. If she couldn't be the child her parents wanted at least she could look the part.

#chat. harper #sexism tw

lalitakahn

The whole community event was a lifesaver for Lalita. Sure the bookstore had been doing well, but busy had its slow point and lately with spring coming up and people getting out more they didnt visit the shop as much to buy books. So the event gave the community 20 percent off on her store and gave her more people to visit. So far it had all worked out well. The people who had came and got their stamps had mostly left with a few books as well, May was certainly going to be a good month for the little store and La. The woman had been placing a new order of books for her inventory when Winnie had alerted her that the woman was needing some attention. Looking up she took her glasses off and moved from behind the counter. Making her way over to the voice she moved around the corner. “Hey!” She said softly back shaking her head, “You’re not bothering me at all. What can I do you for this evening?” Winnie running up behind her to greet the customer as well. Lalita patted the large dogs head and he sat at ther feet

isabelladesoto

Violet wasn't sure exactly what she was looking for, a little bit of everything. As she approached the counter, realizing there was a dog she took paused, "Hi, dog." She said, briefly dropping her attention to the pup before facing Lalita with her card, "I have this little stamp thing." Violet flipped it between her fingers and palm, "I come in here all the time. I don't think I've ever run into the owner." She said with almost a sense of shame. The years she'd spent away from Half Moon Bay had paved the way for so many changes. So much was different, new carved paths that sometimes she wondered if there was much left for her- at least until Clay until the theater pulled her back in until she found a purpose outside of obsessing over what happened to her sister. It was still ever present in the back of her mind but now she felt like she at least had a life. "I'm actually not just looking for books and a stamp. I was wondering if you had a customer log or something where you can look up customers?"

#chat. lalita #hmbevent2 #hmbspringevent

Clayton & Violet

De Luca's annual dinner celebrating the ranch

@claytoncalhoun

They would find out eventually, she knew it would be impossible to hide. Especially now that Violet knew he was here, working for them forced into submission by her fathers ridiculous and very realistic threats. Violet couldn't live her life, or whatever their life together should be under the shadowy fear that her father would do something so terrible and cruel that would send Clay away from her again. It ate away at Violet, making a storm of her insides, her a thundering mess. She knew she had to tell them sooner rather than later. Get on with it before they found out on their own. No better place than a dinner full of old family friends, investors, and others her parents would want to impress. Her nerves were apparent as she picked at her nails, and stood awkwardly outside the large front door, the muffled sounds of the party inside less welcoming than the starry black sky at her back- she could turn away now, put it off, but that was not what he deserved, not what they deserved.

Violet ran her fingers through her hair and extended a hand for him to hold, "Once we go in it could change everything." She said more to herself than to Clay. She smiled fondly and rang the bell of her childhood home before kissing his jaw, the door swung open, and an old house employee Violet had known since childhood greeted her with a cautious smile, "Dorris." She greeted warmly, handing off her coat and leading in with Clay- the music swept through the grand entryway becoming towards the De Luca ballroom where they held larger parties. She could hear the laughter and conversation muddling into white noise. Violet was making purposeful strides, her eyes scanning the photographs on the wall, a portrait of the three De Luca children greeted her, only Violet was here tonight, "Remind me again that they're not that terrifying." She said with a humorless chuckle as the entryway of the ballroom yawned open into the next step into the next unknown.

#chat. clay #hmbevent #hmbspringevent

SPRING EVENT - BOOK HOP

@lalitakahn

Violet had almost all the stamps she needed for the bookstore hop and was only six days into the month. It helped she was looking for a massive distraction from her parents, and the quickly going cold case of her sisters disappearance. The books were piling up and Violet was pouring over page after page escaping reality and hoping to find more here in the stacks. The bell chimed notifying of her entrance as she strolled through the stacks, her fingers grazing the spines of dozens of books pulling from a shelf, Violet peeks up front for the owner, "Hello-" She calls the store mostly empty as the sounds of the music festival happening downtown reverb from the outside. "I'm sorry to bother you-" She called half paying attention half distracted by more titles that grabbed her attention.

#missing persons tw #chat. lalita

SPRING EVENT - Alena Jean's

@harpcrkclly

At the edge of downtown, there was Alena Jeans, local florist where every year, the De Luca's purchased thousands of florals for the annual De Luca camping retreat that begun with a luxury dinner to kick up the weekend. Violet found herself placing the orders, she was unsure why she hadn't confronted her parents yet for what they had done to her and Clay all those years ago, or why she was still running around for them- but here she was holding up a tulip and peony, circling to extend one each towards a poor patron who didn't ask to be pulled into Violet's world and yet here she was, "Which flower says fuck you and your pretentious play pretend weekend, get wrecked." Violet questioned both flowers extended outward.

#hmbspringevent #hmbevent #chat. harper

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