Claire Keane

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
RMH
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occasionally subtle
ojovivo

#extradirty

izzy's playlists!
Sade Olutola
Misplaced Lens Cap
trying on a metaphor
NASA
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JBB: An Artblog!

Andulka
hello vonnie
Show & Tell

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@serenitydusk
Forget-me-not to remember
fairy rings ع˖⁺ ⋆ ୭ .⋆。⋆༶⋆˙⊹
" Perhaps the moon is a frozen tear."
- Anne Sexton, from The poets of Ignorance in " the complete proms of Anne Sexton."
Not As It Seems: Chapter 4
Thomas, after a long day of working on projects assigned by Mr. Agrawal, let out a breath as he leaned back in his office chair. This is another routine he could get lost in too, he thinks. Typing on his keyboard, headphones on, music playing-- it’s nice. This is easy, this is okay. Monotony and something to get lost in.
Which makes the chaos of his life all the more exhausting when the peace is broken, his phone buzzing on the desk next to his mousepad. Fumbling, he threw his headphones down off of his head and picked up his phone, lifting it to his ear as he stood to walk into one of the small privacy offices.
“Tom? It’s Sally. Nicholas-- We’re on our way to the hospital.” The panic in the nurses’ voice makes Thomas’ eye twitch and his fingertips crackle. He shoves them into his pocket, pushing his back against the wall.
“What’s happened?” Despite the fact that he felt like he was going to throw up, Thomas managed a calm facade.
“They think it’s a stroke, hon. Can you get off work early? It doesn’t look good.”
Fuck. Shit. No, this can’t be happening. Three years of moving around and changing scenery and trying to make things work only to lose the thing he was so desperately trying to hang on to. This can’t happen. Anything but this.
“I’ll--” The crack in his voice makes him flinch, another flicker at his fingertips, the fresh smell of rain fills the office as his control slips on his magic.. God, he has to keep it together. “I’ll call a taxi. I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”
“Alright, lad. I’ll keep you updated, yeah?”
The phone stays in its place by his ear for the next few minutes as Thomas takes deep breaths and tries to calm his nerves. Father would be okay. Nicholas Monroe was one tough man, and he would stick around. He’d promised Thomas he’d be there. He’d be okay. “You alright, Thomas?” David poked his head into the room, knuckles rapping against the door. His posh accent made his tone soft, and it took everything in Thomas to muster a small nod. “Yeah-- I-- My father is being taken to the hospital. Is-- Can I?”
“Say no more, mate. Family comes first. Let me know if you need tomorrow too, yeah?”
“Thanks, Mr.-- Ah, sorry, David. I appreciate you.”
-----------------------------------------------------
David had originally wanted to confront the boy.
After hours of researching who the real Thomas McCormick was, He had chewed the end of a pencil to hell trying to figure out how this kid-- a perfect carbon copy of a dead teen-- was currently working in the computer lab in his section.
Apparently, Allah had other plans.
It was now three hours later, and after puzzling over newspaper articles and police reports, David thought he had earned himself a drink.
“Ivanka, I have had quite the day! One of the new interns is doing my head in.” David slid into his normal booth, opening his menu and looking up to see…. Not Ivanka.
“Sorry, Mate, Ivanka called in. I thought you’d heard…” Richard, a pudgy fifty-some year old waiter who’d been working this joint since the late 80s, frowned down at him. “Something about ‘her kid?”
“Oh, shit! I’ll have to text her later. Do you know what happened?”
“Not much. Her nanny took ‘im to the hospital and she said she couldn’t come in.”
David leaned back in the booth, brows furrowed. Crazy coincidence. David shook his head slowly, looking back up at Richard. “I’ll start with the strongest shot of whiskey you have, mate.”
-------------------------------------------------
Well, the magic certainly wasn’t new, as they had previously thought. No, the magic had always been there. Like a subtle buzz of a fluorescent light, it had flown under the radar until it either got louder or stopped altogether.
And this incessant buzzing had gotten louder.
What Aurelias had been picking up on was overexertion. Exhaustion from an elongated game of hide and seek. From what Viktor could tell with the strong smell of bergamot and the soft smell of fresh rain was that the witch he was looking for was wearing a protection spell, masking themself and hiding among the pale-blooded humans. But a scent was not enough, and this temporary exhaustion would pass when their little lion had the chance to cover themself once more.
That meant Viktor had to act quickly. He had to play chess with a ghost, one who knew he lurked in the shadows. For such a clever little witch, he would need a clever spell and a very clever plan.
The circle was set against the hardwood floors of the chapel-- a repurposed building in the college campus-turned-coven. Dark lambs' blood made up the circle, with two eye-shaped rings that made a smaller circle in the middle where they overlapped. In the center, a dark splotch of black paint represented the pupil of Aurelias’ eye. Where the two eyes’ corners touched the circle, a candle burned, the only light by which the disciples worked as they laid sand outside the entirety of the circle. Viktor knelt in the center of the circle, taking the knife in his hand and cutting into his palm. As the blood dripped onto the pupil, gestured for one of his attendants to bring in the last piece of the ritual; A pet of the Fae.
Aurelias had a few pets, but Noah was favored among them. Sweet, soft-spoken and ruthlessly clever, the boy had been a very good find. He had traded his freedom in for a friend, one who had been the original target of Aurelias’ collection. He was the perfect vessel between worlds, and his skin and blood sang with earth magic so powerful it was truly as though he was meant to be a faepet.
The ginger-headed boy was led into the center of the circle, where he was guided to kneel facing Viktor. He was blindfolded, using his hands to find Viktor’s. With one hand he touched the floorboards where the pupil was etched, and with the other he gently grazed over Viktor’s bloody palm, his fingers tingling. He gasped as his vision came into view, guided by fae magic and letting himself be possessed by Aurelias.
A woman, Viktor. His fae whispered, the deep voice unnatural through a boy of barely twenty. You’ll find her in a pub. Milton’s. Middle-aged, dark hair and gray eyes. Noah will know the way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
TAGLIST!! @pigeonwhumps, @emmettnet, @serenitydusk, @winedark-whump
Masterlist!!
Not As It Seems - In a world full of magic, both natural and given, not everything is as it appears... Not As It Seems: Prologue Not As It Seems: Chapter 1 Not As It Seems: Chapter 2 Not As It Seems: Chapter 3 Not As It Seems: Chapter 4
(please lemme know if these don't work)
Not As It Seems - Chapter 1
Complete control of an all-consuming flame of power comes with a cost. Of course, most things do require payment, bargains, or deals. Even gods are indebted to the likes of man, their power demanding worship as a token, a deal. Dark magics were not an exception, but an example of the most powerful kind.
Viktor was well aware of this fact. Dark magics were forbidden, yes, because many fools got themselves torn up in the web of faekind, trying to control the creature instead of making mutual partnerships. But Viktor knew what it took to be powerful. To be worthy. To be significant. And he was. With years of experience, he had himself a coven of witches and mages that had sworn him loyalty for power. For significance. For a home. All the creatures who had been outcast by the ever-arrogant Covenant found themselves welcomed by one of the most feared and dangerous men in London. Hell, even most of England. He gave them access to Faekind willing to inhabit bodies and gift more powerful gifts than what came naturally, and in return they promised him loyalty. And to their new fae partners, food. Just like Viktor exampled.
You see, he had one of the most powerful kinds of magic because of how sweet his payment was to the fae in his shadow. For never ending youth, for fire magic so hot it made ashes of great buildings and difficult people, for the influence he had over his underlings, he paid in the blood of other creatures. He collected wayward, powerful things that did not quite know their place, and he lured them into his own traps, where they signed deals and made pacts that trapped them as pets to the fae. He had made himself an emperor to an empire of magic-selling and magic-goods, with a worthy harem to match the ferociously hungry beast that helped him forge his power. Greed is always one of the most deadly and unforgiving antagonists, yes, and it is what makes Viktor all the more dangerous. There is no length he will hesitate to go to hold the world in his hands.
Reader, it is important to understand all of this because it is where our story begins; A dark night full of rain in October, the sky lighting up occasionally with bursts of light from the storm bustling over London. Viktor was standing at his desk, looking over the latest shipping updates for some very potent potions he would be selling to one of the members of London's parliament in exchange for favor in the newest legislation concerning the Covenant and Witchcraft. He hadn't really noticed the persistent tingling in his fingers until the dull crackle gave way to pops and snaps, his dark eyes-- black from corruption thick and oily-- lifting slowly to a glass orb on his desk.
Something fun has come to us, Viktor, Whispered his fae, his shadow. A meal. A friend. A little lion.
"I do not understand. You have to be more clear, Aurelias."
Do you not feel it? The crackle of lightning? The bubble of energy?
"It is nothing but the storm. And London is huge, how would you be able to tell if it was a single mage?"
Because this is different. Aurelias insisted. The storm is an old friend of mine, and this is not her. This is someone new.
"Fine. I shall look into it, but don't get your hopes up. Maybe it is just a new power grid." But Viktor knew better. Something-- no, someone fun has come, indeed.
And he would find them.
Not As It Seems - Prologue
The boy was tall, broad shouldered, and slouched. Crazy black curls bounced around his oblong face, bright amber eyes reflecting and exuding cleverness. He walked with an air of confidence that came with youth, an easy smile on his lips as he made idle chatter with the movers as they brought in the furniture and boxes for the two small bedrooms, the tiny living room, adequate-enough kitchen, and single bathroom apartment.
A boy, moving to the city to take care of his dad. It's easy to start over, especially when the boy-- an avid technology enthusiast and handy mechanic-- already landed a job. Thomas was his name. Thomas McCormick.
The movers smiled at the boy as he described the college he was thinking of applying to, some community college nearby for computer science. They nodded along, wishing him luck. "Not much of a partier, then, huh?" one joked.
"Nope, I'm not really into any of that anyhow," Thomas had smiled, captivating and confident and smooth. That was Thomas, though. A sweet, tall lad with an easy, ever-brave smile.
But when the door to the apartment closed, and the movers left… Well, what if I told you, reader, that there is no Thomas McCormick? Or, at least, that this was not someone who existed.
Looks can be deceiving, no?
Basically the beginning of Muse for Rent, lol. Poor Tavi.
@serenitydusk
That is 100000% accurate. Poor Tavi indeed!!
by eddiekruger
Two identical infants lay in the cradle. “One you bore, the other is a Changeling. Choose wisely,” the Fae’s voice echoed from the shadows. “I’m taking both my children,” the mother said defiantly.
Once upon a time there was a peasant woman who was unhappy because she had no children. She was happy in all other things – her husband was kind and loving, and they owned their farm and had food and money enough. But she longed for children.
She went to church and prayed for a child every Sunday, but no child came. She went to every midwife and wise woman for miles around, and followed all their advice, but no child came.
So at last, though she knew of the dangers, she drew her brown woolen shawl over her head and on Midsummer’s Eve she went out to the forest, to a certain clearing, and dropped a copper penny and a lock of her hair into the old well there, and she wished for a child.
“You know,” a voice said behind her, a low and cunning voice, a voice that had a coax and a wheedle and a sly laugh all mixed up in it together, “that there will be a price to pay later.”
She did not turn to look at the creature. She knew better. “I know it,” she said, still staring into the well. “And I also know that I may set conditions.”
“That is true,” the creature said, after a moment, and there was less laugh in its voice now. It wasn’t pleased that she knew that. “What condition do you set? A boy child? A lucky one?”
“That the child will come to no harm,” she said, lifting her head to stare into the woods. “Whether I succeed in paying your price, or passing your test, or not, the child will not suffer. It will not die, or be hurt, or cursed with ill luck or any other thing. No harm of any kind.”
“Ahhhhh.” The sound was long and low, between a sigh and a hum. “Yes. That is a fair condition. Whatever price there is, whatever test there is, it will be for you and you alone.” A long, slender hand extended into her sight, almost human save for the skin, as pale a green as a new leaf. The hand held a pear, ripe and sweet, though the pears were nowhere ripe yet. “Eat this,” the voice said, and she trembled with the effort of keeping her eyes straight ahead. “All of it, on your way home. Before you enter your own gate, plant the core of it beside the gate, where the ground is soft and rich. You will have what you ask for.”
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Love hurts.
@serenitydusk @when-the-sun-goes-dark
I love it ;-; It reminds me of my cat babies jumping on my back.