witchoftheflesh: Colin O'Donoghue (Smile - Comfy Sweater Dimples)
Adrian and Rey'd had a date planned for tonight - nothing major, just some spending a bit of time together. But when he saw the reindeer made of lights wandering through the Grove, he'd had a much, much better idea than just cooking dinner and maybe enlisting her help with making Christmas gifts.

"Do you think telling her to dress warmly will give it away?" he fretted at asked Boston. Boston, who was once again reminded how much energy Lydia-kitty had, opened one weary eye. "Yes," he said. "Telling her to dress warm in December is surely only something one would do if they were up to something."

Adrian scooped up Lydia-kitty, pulling her away from her current favorite toy: Boston's tail. "It's not that cold," he scoffed.

"Spoken like someone who grew up in a forest in Massachusetts," Boston said, letting his eyes drift shut again. "You should tell her to dress warmly. You'll only fuss if you don't."

"Good poi--hey! I don't fuss!"

Boston was not inclined to dignify that nonsense with a response. Not when there was prime napping to be done, and he was going to take advantage of it while Adrian entertained Lydia.

"Oh! Oh! Boston, I know the best way to handle this!" Adrian said, excited. He read off the text he'd just sent Rey. "Don't forget to dress warm--Baby, It's Cold Outside. Get it? Like the Christmas song!"

...If anybody needed Boston, he'd be hiding under a plant in the greenhouse. Emphasis on hiding.

[For the aforementioned date, if you'd be so kind!]
witchoftheflesh: (Looking - Head Bowed Closeup)
Adrian dipped the towel into a basin full of cool water, heavily scented with herbs, wrung it just dry enough that it wouldn't drip, and placed it on her lower abdomen. There was a folded washcloth on her forehead, another tucked under her neck and behind her knees, and draped over her side, held in place by her arms. Normally, he'd wipe her body down with cooling infusions, but he was trying to disturb her body's lamia as little as possible, and so had to settle for placing cool towels against what his mother called 'hot spots' and hope that helped bring her fever down instead. The remains of a mug of nourishing broth rested on the nightstand; he was careful to not to feed her too much at a time, so she wouldn't choke. His own bowl rested beside it, still steaming, a small enchantments on the bowl itself to keep the contents warm while it waited for him to finish up with her.


"You know, Pam, any time you wanted to wake up would be okay by me," he said, voice low and calm and conversational. "I'm trying to give you time to work through this on your own, but if you're still comatose on Monday, I'm going to have to start using actual magic, and I'm not sure I'm ready to pull the scales off these women's eyes and have them declare my Grove should be the next holistic retreat." Dip. Wring. Place. "I know you can do this, Pam. You're one of the strongest people I know. And I know, I know. Everything in its own time. I'm trying to be patient, but you've got me worried." Dip. Wring. Place.

Eventually, he ran out of towels and retreated back to the chair, sinking into it with a soft groan. He reached for his soup by rote; he didn't feel hungry, but he knew he had to replenish the energy he was spending on her, and food was easier than sleep. He held the bowl for a few minutes, letting the warmth of it sink into his hands. "Come on, Pam," he murmured. "Don't make me start with threats. I've got some single-user plastic packaging right here and I'm not afraid to use it."

[For the unconscious one and SP! NFB for distance]
witchoftheflesh: Colin O'Donoghue as Hook from OUaT (Action - Walking Sunglasses Casual)
The massive black cat crouched inside his plastic carry crate, fluffy tail lashing with indignity. "I can't believe you stuck me in the middle seat."

"Would you rather I carried you in my lap?" asked the black-dressed man sitting in the window seat beside him. "And keep it down. Normal cats don't talk, remember?"

The cat lowered his voice to an angry hiss, which wasn't much of an improvement. "I'd rather not be on this flying death contraption in the first place. There's no anti-falling ward, no safety charms, no magic of any sort! We're just hurtling through the air in a metal cylinder powered by explosions." He turned his green-eyed glare on the happy family sitting across the aisle. "I'm amazed there are any scalies left if this is how they travel."

Don't be rude, Boston )

"Did she hire a bodyguard out of an abundance of caution or because she...?" Boston asked from his carrier.

"Cute that you think Aunt Muriel has ever given me a straight answer in my entire life," the witch snorted as he slid the phone back into his pocket. "Now be quiet. I can't do a Nevermind while walking, and this place is packed." The cat grumbled but didn't say another recognizable word as the witch began marching down the disembarkation tunnel toward the sunny, crowded airport terminal. Time to find a bodyguard with a sign. "Could have given me a little more of a description, Aunt Muriel," he muttered.

And just like that, his phone chimed with an incoming text. He dug it back out of his pocket and saw the message was just a phone number and a name. Yelena Belova.

[Adapted from Chapter 1 of Hell For Hire by Rachel Aaron. NFB for off-island, and for the grumpy Russian babysitter bodyguard.]

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witchoftheflesh: Colin O'Donoghue (Default)
Adrian Blackwood

December 2025

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