Verdigris is a blue-green pigment that has been used since antiquity, whose name derives from an Old French phrase meaning “green of Greece.” Though it was the most vibrant green pigment available for much of history, it had an unstable color prone to changing over time, making it tricky to work with. It ultimately fell out of favor in the 19th century as newer, more stable greens became available.
When Plagg tags along on a field trip to a cheese factory, things start out fine. There’s an abundance of cheese to taste, after all, and he has all day to do it. However, things start going a bit wonky as soon as Plagg finds buckets filled with cheese curds and an unknown purplish liquid…
When Miss Bustier announced the class would be going on a field trip, Adrien was excited. He loved going out and exploring things that he didn’t get to see while he was homeschooled. It was almost always a promise of a low-stress day with his friends.
And then he found out where they were going. A cheese factory. And not just any cheese factory, but one of the bigger ones in the Paris area.
Needless to say, Plagg was a whole lot more excited than Adrien.
“You have to promise to behave,” Adrien told his kwami the morning before the field trip. “Stay in my bag, and I promise I’ll buy you cheese if we get to stop in their shop. If not, I’ll buy the cheese online.”
Plagg’s nose twitched irritably as he floated in front of Adrien’s face. “You expect me to stay in your bag all day while the lovely smell of cheese floats all around me? Your bag smells like sweaty teenage boy and I get bored hanging around there.”
Ciara was ten years old and the youngest of eight siblings. She found solace within the stone walls of a peasant Tuscan home in 1949. The hearth had been burning all day in preparation for her family’s Christmas Eve dinner, as well as it being the only means of keeping winter’s chill out of the tiny residence. It was a meagre spread in comparison to the lavish menu the wealthy families were enjoying, but for Ciara and her siblings, this was a feast. Salted cod had been prepared in a tomato stew and was simmering slowly, and the opportunity to eat fish was a blessing. The flavourful aroma filled the entire home, adding to the excitement.
The wooden harvest table covered in mismatched pottery bowls anchored the small home. A seasoned stale bread loaf soaked in olive oil and wine was at the centre on a large cutting board. She welcomed the grumbling ache in her stomach with sheer delight; tonight there was no possibility of going to bed hungry. On the mantel there were eight small sachet tied into peaks with twine, that Nonna Julietta had prepared the evening prior when all the children were asleep. The contents of the gifts were not a mystery and Ciara knew they would be edible. Placed beside the hearth was a small coniferous type tree that leaned slightly to one side. Its branches were sparse and shabby; they could hardly hold the weight of the treats the children were placing on them. The handful of nuts, fruits, and tiny candies with ribbons affixed to them were more than its limbs could sustain.
Over the door of the only bedroom in the house was a wooden crucifix. Ciara had the image of Christs’ sacrificial body with his arms outstretched embedded into her mind. This symbol sustained her family just as much as the large clay water basin that was required to be full at all times. Tonight was a celebration of Christs’ birth, but in reality was so much more.
Embedded deep within the Christian tradition was a family secret. A secret more ancient than even the cocoon of Christianity it submerged itself in. Under the covers of Catholicism was something that longed to be passed on, a hidden family heritage that was handed from one generation to the next. Ciara was immune to the concept of magic and healing. La Vecchia Religione was the soil that nourished her young life from the day of her birth and she was about to bloom.
Julietta was known and respected within their region as a wise woman with a special gift of healing. It was not uncommon to have someone knock on the door in need of help during the dark and early hours of the morning. Ciara was the only child of the eight who would wake with her Nonna and observe. Often herbs and other items were prepared with special rites performed, and Ciara was consumed by it all. By the glow of candle light, she watched each encounter in a pure enchantment. Her long brown curls would hang over her face as she leaned in to watch her Nonna grinding herbs with the mortar and pestle. Julietta would take a handkerchief and tie Ciara’s hair back, then gently place a kiss on the tip of her nose before she continued her work. Even tonight she followed her around the kitchen like an apprentice.
Now, when the meal was done and all the children were going to bed, Ciara was called over by her Nonna. She had long silvery black hair with a slight curl to it, but it was held back with a handkerchief. Sometimes the odd curl would slip from the sides and frame her beautiful ivory skin. Still at eighty years of age her skin was subtle and soft. Patting her lap she beckoned Ciara to climb up, while she sat in a wooden rocking chair by the fire. She loved this time with her grandmother, and often would sit and listen to stories while playing with her apron. Sometimes falling asleep with her hands wrapped around her neck and her head tucked perfectly in the crease of her shoulder.
Tonight was different, as it was Christmas Eve, and the one night of the year that familial gifts were taught and passed on to next female Strega. On a small table beside the chair was a parchment journal and a small bottle of olive oil. Ciara’s mother went outside and brought in a small bowl of water that had been sitting under the moonlight for several hours, and placed it on the table. Her hazel eyes wide in wonder. Ciara knew what this meant. With a humble eagerness she followed direction. The bowl was placed on Ciara’s lap with the her Nonna’s hands wrapped around hers. Several drops of oil were placed into the water just as Julietta guided Ciara’s finger to be submerged into the water. As they continued with the ritual they chanted, “Padre, Figlio, Spirito Santo…….”
As many prompts as are emerging from this brain child, I thought I would throw them all in one place for ease of access and organization. This will be consistently updated as more prompts are filled, and once the actual fic goes up, it will be listed here too with the most recent chapter listed beside it. I hope you enjoy!
The best time to wear a striped sweater is alllll the time🎶
Surprisingly it’s been raining here in California for most of the week. The grass is a bright, beautiful, emerald city of Oz green and I couldn’t be happier about it. I’ll try to post a pic of that soon. 💖
YAY! OOOOOKAY so this did NOT go the direction I originally intended it to, but I still like it? Roman AU is still new, so I am playing with things. I hope you enjoy!!! (Also first official piece I’ve written in 2017 I think? Thanks for helping me beat writer’s block in the face!)
“Students are excited for finals to be over, I’m just excited for a few weeks of nothing but soaking in the tub, wine, tv shows to catch up on and not having to fucking work.” Evie said as she sat back on the sofa in the university common room. “So much to catch up on.”
Imagine coming from a long day, after a terrible week of work, and its finally Friday. You find Loki having run you a lavender bath and has placed your favourite comic book next to it. As you soak and read, a hand appears in front of you; Loki has poured you a large glass of wine. He then proceeds to massage your shoulders as you soak in the bath and relax. After, he takes you to bed in his arms and holds you while you fall asleep.
Beautiful human Matt Bomer also has a beautiful voice, and it’s on full display in this ~*never-before-seen*~ Magic Mike XXL clip. Without giving too much away, here’s what’s going on: The guys are enjoying a wine-soaked evening with a group of wealthy southern ladies, one of whom is married to a man who’s never once made love to her with the lights on. That’s pretty depressing, so to cheer her up (and turn her on), Ken Doll (Bomer) serenades her with the song “Heaven.” The best way to describe it? Heaven.
She sets fire to aromatic plastic flowers
Calling it mathematical magic
& Eating fruit Soaked in wine
Worrying whilst wasting time
Consumed by her own history
She writes her own misery
a deliberately twisty mystery
Mutables are just here to soak up the wine and rhymes and vanish as quickly as they appeared… they are here to live many lives in one! and
once their curiosity (mutable is the intellect mode) has been satisfied,
its onto the next life, or brainwave… once they have learned everything
they feel they need to, its time to move on, and this is unlike Fixed,
who absolutely entrench themselves in every subject, read every book and
highlight every footnote, and Cardinal, who sparked the brainwave to begin with