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@maevebrownes
personal aesthetic request: moths, necromancy, divination
more here // request here
a moodboard for every month: april
16, 25
sixteen; the last song you listened to?
âSLEEPOVER by Hayley Kiyoko.â
twenty-five; you just found $100! how are you going to spend it?
"Right off the bat, I'd get a small popcorn at the theater...But If I were to sit with on it for a little bit, I'd spend maybe half on a new tattoo and half on a new shirt.â
13, 32, 48, 57
thirteen; your worst enemy?
âI donât have a worst enemy. Even if I did, I wouldnât name them, and I certainly wouldnât hex them so that they having a creeping sense of doubt for twenty-six hours or blotchy, burnlike scars on his body or cause his ears to itchy painfully whenever he lies⊠No, no, no. I wouldnât do that to my worst enemy. -- If I had one.â
thirty-two; you got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. but check out this cool shit⊠you can move to anywhere else in the world!
âTime-traveling? Sleeping with Celebrities? - What era was James Dean again? Early fifties, right? Yeah, that's where you'll find me. Or not.â
forty-eight; do you hold grudges?
âDepends on if Iâve heard what the person Iâm holding a grudge against has to say. I usually donât because people are chickenshit, - so, yeah, I hold grudges.â
fifty-seven; what is the last thing you drew a picture of?
âI donât draw. I hardly doodle. I don't have one fucking artistic bone in my body despite how hard my parents tried to find one.â
3,7,9,14,45,36,
three; the person you would never want to meet?
Answered.
seven; what shirt are you wearing?
Iâm wearing a black t-shirt. The hem of the sleeves are white, on the back is a small print of the middle finger emoji.â
nine; bright room or dark room?
âDepends on my mood. Sometimes I feed off of the sunrays that spill into a room. Other times, if Iâm feeling moody, I like my atomsphere to match my mood, so Iâll turn off the lights and close the blinds.â
fourteen; what is your current desktop picture?
âThis picture of a campfire.â
thirty-six; have you ever been admitted to the hospital?
âYeah, and not to my parents' knowledge, for a few stitches on my upper left arm, the back of my left thigh and my right thumb... That was my last, wild night in Johannesburg before leaving to come here.â
forty-five; if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
âIâm working on it right now, and itâs me trying to voice my opinions and how I feel more often. Iâve held it back for so long and I deserve to let my feelings be heard.â
( desmond browne. )
He creased his forehead for a moment, finding it ironic that sheâd call the woman in the mirror a witch. A witch wouldâve been able to trick him out of his magic â thatâd have been much more plausible than a ghost. His mouth fell open as he processed the thought, then he shut it again when her expression shifted from excitement to wariness. Maeve could see right through him, not like the fae could, but in her own way; she could read him like a book even when he wished she wouldnât, which was why heâd avoided her when he started dabbing into blood magic. Sheâd have seen through his lies. Sheâd have known, like she did now. The concerned look on her features pulled at his heartstrings.Â
âI did.â There was a knot in his throat where he kept the details of his own recklessness. Time and again he found himself there, drowning in the consequences of his mistakes; his dark curiosities. He took the leap when no one else would, and he paid the price for it when it didnât work in his favor. It was difficult to admit to the truth, to voice it and make it real. Desmond reached for her hand across the table, catching it in his. He couldnât feel her magic, nor would she feel his. Lost, or blocked, either way he was left with emptiness. It felt like before, like getting cut off from the covenâs magic; numbness. âShe took my magic. I donât know why or how, but itâs gone.â He swallowed, a pause to collect his strength. âIâll take it back, I just need to find out how.â
The eldest Browne sibling took her hand and she knew what had happened before Desmond voiced it. She felt a quick panic flutter into her chest, creating a quick rhythm of heart again ribcage. In return, she took both of her hands and cupped them around Desmondâs, as if to warm them. Her brows then furrowed, but not in worry, in anger. Her brother had been foolish to face Bloody Marry. She also knows and understands why he did it and not thinking about the repercussions. Or maybe he did, but the curiosity got in the way. It also angered her that this was one more thing that was taken away from Desmond. This time around, he had his little sister and she wasnât going anywhere.
Maeve chewed on her lip, pulling off dead skin, making the thicker flesh raw. âYou arenât going to find a way in a Grimoire. You know that, right?â She turns his hand over, palm facing up so that she could trace the lines in his hands with her index finger. âYou should go back and try using âpleaseâ,â She takes back her hands and in turn reaches for her drink, placing the straw between her lips, âIâm going to go to the washroom and summon her just so that I can kick her ass.â Meave sighs heavily, leaning back against the chair. âIâll do some digging of my own. Youâll get your magic back, Des.â She says, looking at her brother with hard determination before it melts into a softer expression. âSo, what does it feel like? To be human?â
desmond đ maeve
Desmond: You're the bratty one then.
Desmond: Your apathy concerns me.
Desmond: I'll take your word for it.
Maeve: Now you're just saying stuff you don't mean.
Maeve: As long as it's not you or three more people in this town I like who's not dying, I can carry on peacefully.
Maeve: You gonna tell me the more in-depth version as to why you sent a concerned text? Or are you going to stay vague as fuck?
our cinemagraphs on instagram: @kitchenghosts
you, a poser: god is dead
me, a necromancer and an opportunist: wait, what?
3, 6, 8, 15, 17, 20
three; the person you would never want to meet?
âNobody really comes to mind... That's probably because Iâve already met the person I would never want to meet, back in Johannesburg, and theyâre out of my life and incredibly unhappy.â
six; when you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought?
Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary⊠âI thought that Iâm a mess of a human being that should stop staying out until four in the morning when she has a shift at nine.â
eight; what do you label yourself as?
âPal, I have no idea. I didnât realize that people still use labels to describe themselves. If I had to pick⊠Maybe The Troublemaker? Or The Troubleseeker? The Free Spirit? This is shit that other people have called me, but I'm taking them for the sake of this question.â
fifteen; do you like someone?
âOf course I do. I like everyone I meet.â She smiles cheekily.
seventeen; you can press a button that will make anyone person explode. who would you blow up?
âDonald Trump. He fucked with the people, he fucked wih the envionment, and now heâs fucking with the elephants.â
twenty; what is your best physical attribute?
âMy long legs. They get me places quickly.â
desmond đ maeve
Desmond: I'm not the brooding one. I'm the mature one. There's a difference.
Desmond: Haven't you heard? The town is a mess tonight. People are dying.
Desmond: Just tell me you're somewhere safe.
Maeve: You can take the title of the brooding AND mature one. How about that?
Maeve: Isn't this town... Always a mess? And aren't people... Always dying?
Maeve: Yeah, sure. :) I'm somewhere safe.
( cael mercer. )
Tranquilitea would have been a cute spot for Maeve if it didnât smell like dirt. The scent was heavy as it lingured in the air; as did a few potted plants in circular glass bowls that hang from the ceiling. Maeve tipped it out of her way and let it swing behind her. âHey, you weirdo," The redhead calls to the familiar witch, her voice echoing in the small place. She still has mixed feelings about Cael, but she knew that grudge she held was slowly easing. She can't hold onto the resentment for long, she doesn't want to, and to get over the bitterness was to slowly easy the earth witch back into her life. Maeve was disappointed him like she would have been with a family member, not a friend. So, here she was. "Find any Griffinâs lately?â They haven't seen each other since the day they were suppose to get married. Maeve gives a snort of a laugh before she felt her stomach lurch at the thought. It would have been like marrying a brother. Alright, she needed to stop thinking about this. "Have any teas for nausea?"
( avery weaver. )
The revelation was enough to pull a giggle from the vampireâs lips after her brows unfurrowed. âDid you really? Did he really?â Another bit of laughter escaped before she continued. âDid he really think all itâd take was buying you a drink?â Stranger things had happened, but the nativity surrounding the man almost seemed innocent. The thought of his trusting nature stifled her giggles after a time. Perhaps he deserved it, but he seemed lucky a more devilish manipulation hadnât grabbed hold of him. âI donât think I would have ever thought of that, if Iâm being honest but thank you for the drinks.â She sipped from her glass, the burn still barely present on a numbed tongue. âI donât usually drink at bars, but they are always severely overpriced.â
The blonde gives a bit of laughter and Maeve silently promised her that she was going to try and keep up trying to get Avery to laugh for the rest of the night while they hung out. It was an improvement from five minutes ago and that was a good sign. âRight or wrong, mostly wrong, acting or looking a certain way can make a guy think youâre easy.â She says to the blonde with an underhanded grin and shrugs, âI play into that because Itâs not hard to get free drinks; guys just canât help themselves the poor schmucks.â Maeve takes a mouthful of her drink, halfway finishing it. âYou never thought about lying to someone to get free drinks?â She asks, brows raising, smile still on her lips. Essentially, thatâs what it came down to. Lying. And Maeve was kind of good at it. In the last five or so years, sheâs had more than enough practice. âDonât mention it, itâs not a problem.â It really wasnât. In fact, every now and then she would look to the crowd to see who she could use next. âYouâre not alone in that. No one really drinks at bars anymore because of that reason, unless itâs a huge event. I tend to binge drink before leaving the pre-party, but I tend to lose my buzz around eleven or twelve."
( calloway cain. )
Calloway shook off her next comment with an equally embarrassed grin, joking, âI usually donât worry about being obvious, because Iâm usually certain itâs obvious, no intuition required.â The confidence he saw in the redheaded stranger was something Calloway knew he would never possess, but he couldnât help but admire the girlâs effortless transition into conversation. He laughed at her more than accurate description of the party they had left, and responded, âThatâs true, though in all honesty it was so crowded I doubt that there were any closed doors left. I donât really know what I expected, but at least there was plenty of alcohol. Itâs hard to be too miserable with alcohol.â He reasoned lightly, though he wasnât sure he had drank enough to make him anything more than a little buzzed.Â
âThe energy was something else.â He said in agreement, though he had little time to reply as she seemed content in moving on from both the subject and the club. He watched in paranoid awe, as he always did in view of magic, as she incinerated her cigarette in her palm, which at least cleared up the feeling heâd had about her being a witch. In a knee-jerk decision, he followed the girl after she turned back to him, asking her, âWhere are we going?â
âIn a way, thatâs a good way to live. At least if you know youâre being obvious, you can give less of a fuck, right?â The Redhead replies as she walks along, arms swaying carefreely with a smile to match on her lips as if she were walking towards freedom. This was always her favourite part of the night; going to parties and leaving with strangers. It was a dicey move, but Maeve put confidence into her abilities to keep her safe. Probably too much confidence. The people she left with usually ended up holding a connection to her more than the people she went with in the first place. "Do you wish you could ever be that carefree?" She asks, "So carefree that you don't care that people see you? All doors opens! Mind, heart, soul. You know what I mean?" The tall witch looks to the other, eyes squinting slightly. The thing was... This wasn't even drunk babble. The vibration in the back pocket of her jeans caught her attention for a moment. Taking it out and looking at the screen, having to squint to get past the slightly blurred vision, she sees sheâs gotten a few text from Desmond. âAnywhere you want, babe. The whole town is ours.â She answers Calloway with a grin. âWhatâs your name, by the way?â
HOW ARE YOU REAL?