*GIP because mun says I can - yay!*

( Also...the full pic! )

Name Margaret Bethany Francis (Maggie)
Fandom: OC
2.8 mun prompt: Very often in fics and role-play, scent is overlooked. So tell us, in your muse’s world, what are some scents that they like, encounter or even have? How does your muse smell? How does their home smell? What scents do they find comforting or disturbing? Is there a scent that can trigger a reaction in your muse?
Word Count: 151

Maggie loves the scent of:

Cotton candy, Monster size heated pretzels, Caramel, Popcorn – all carnival Boardwalk related. Happy memories of childhood in Atlantic City.

Vermouth – she swears up and down that gin does not smell, but in a martini, the Vermouth has a pleasant scent.

Cheer laundry detergent and clothes drying on the line in Spring or Summer. Her mother loved to hang dry clothes and Maggie would chase her younger brother through the sheets, playing tag or hide and seek.

Salt water – she’d probably stop everything she was doing (if currently in AC), if suddenly, this smell disappeared.

Maggie hates the scent of:

Pine.

Sage and chalk. Reminds her of the desert where two bodies are still buried. *eye dart*

Jägermeister and most any other liqueur.

Cabbage cooking on the stove. She can’t get past the smell to eat it.

Maggie smells like:

CHANEL 5 Perfume, fresh linen, and martinis.

Margaret Bethany Francis (Call her Maggie)
Fandom: OC
Topic: 2.6 3. It was a great plan! The one little thing that went wrong was...

It wasn’t right. Her brother had worked so hard, planned for so long and now this was heaped upon him unfairly. It had been several months since his last fight in the ring and that awful loss. Both hands, fully capable of fighting, but the doctors told him the chances were practically zero that he would be allowed in the ring again.

Maggie could never keep the info straight, but the bottom line was that Michael was never going to be able to fight again. One good punch to the head and he’d either be one, dead, or two, a walking punch-drunk dribbling idiot. When the doctor would not certify him to be able to enter the ring again, he had fallen into a depressive funk the likes of which Maggie had never seen. He was staying with her – had been doing so since the fight and he had done nothing but stare out the window at the shore, thinking only God knows what and only speaking when necessary.

Making him lunch first, she propped up the pillows behind him for no other reason than to keep herself busy.

Patting him on the shoulder, she took a deep breath and left him to his own devices for the day.

…

“You know God, of all the people you wanted to test, you had to go and pick my brother. ”

Maggie sat in the front row, attempting to clear her thoughts and not really being successful at it – all for waiting her turn at confession. It was a long line today. No need to kill her feet while waiting. Though she had every right to be here, Maggie rarely felt right about it. Everything from the way she lived her life since Vegas, exploiting her ability to lend luck by accepting gratuity. Her sex life aside, she knew full well that there more sins that just lust and violence. She’d been guilty of almost all except sloth and false witness …well, just sloth. That only one sin was ignored, would not go in her favor should she try to justify herself while in confession.

Did she still have it in her to really pull off a true confession and not just the dribble that most people spewed out every week? She didn’t know, but she had to try. There was no way she could really pray to help Michael find a new course in his life, now that he could no longer box, unless she cleaned her own house and put her guilt in order. Her parents taught that way to her at home. That much she recalled, wincing, wondering not for the first time what her parents really thought of how she lived. Only this time, she actually felt a little bad about it.

An hour later, it was her turn and Maggie stepped inside, closed the door, trying not to hyperventilate.

Name: Margaret Bethany Francis (call her Maggie)
Fandom: OC
Topic: 2.5.1-I Stone Poneys – Different Drum (If you are familiar with the brilliant voice of Linda Rondstat, you will know it is her plaintive wail on this very liberated song about a girl who just isn’t interested in getting tied down.)
Oh don't get me wrong
It's not that I knock it
It's just that I'm not in the market
For a boy who wants to love only me
Yes and I ain't saying you ain't pretty
All I'm sayin's that I'm not ready
For any person, place or thing
To try and pull the reins in on me
Word count: 300

Byron, Jack, Matthew who is really Kronos but she doesn’t know that, Stelios, Daemon, and a whole host of others. Singular dates for a singular kind of gal. Maggie wasn’t a ball-busting feminist, not that she didn’t root for them or anything. Maggie simply had a one-track mind when it came to socializing with the opposite sex. Have fun, seize the moment, and then go do what was known as the rest of her life. She worked hard, played hard, and invested her money wiser than some people would expect of her spectacularly outward nature. She didn’t want to take into account the extra time that a real relationship would take out of her life.

It didn’t mean that she did not appreciate the men in her life in whatever capacity that they came to the table with. Some were just friends that she went on outings with; some, maybe one or two, there was actual sex, because hey, a girl had needs too, you know.

Below the surface, there were her dreams of the perfect guy wouldn’t monopolize her time, would leave her breathless and happy, wouldn’t ask too many questions about a past she never talked about, and wanted to dance with one foot in the past and the other in the present. They definitely would have a love for retro, and, and …well, the list was long but not mandatory, she supposed. As long as they had their own money and didn’t want to take hers, she could relax a little. Her childhood friend, Maggie Doyle, was always telling her to lower her standards or she’d end up an old maid. At twenty-nine, she wondered the truth of that statement. She had no biological time clock to speak of; she had her own money, why should she get married or commit herself to another?

One o’clock in the afternoon, dressed warmly in black  jeans , a cashmere red sweater, and a white winter jacket, Maggie waited in front of  the Ripley’s Believe it or Not’  building where she said she would  meet Daemon.  It was definitely cold outside, but it was not wet and for that, she was happy. Wet would mean not much fun at the pier, as rides would be down or  at least some of them anyway. As she checked out a nearby magazine-news stand, she looked through several issues of Swing magazine, clicking the heels of her shoes every so often.

 

Maggie had just gotten home from dropping her parents off at the airport. They protested the whole time; traveling on Christmas day of all times. Maggie insisted that t his day was best considering everyone was already where they were meant to be. It would be smooth sailing, she promised, waving as they turned to go into the passenger only areas. They had been to Midnight Mass, she shouted out to remind her mother to relax.

They were going to love their cruise from Florida to New Zealand!

Letting herself inside, Maggie smiled. All her decorations were up and gifts had been mailed or given ages ago or so it seemed.

She burst out laughing when she saw her tea set up on the kitchen counter. A little reminder that Poseidon may very well be showing up today. Who knew. Don seemed kind of spastic about time like that. She might not even catch his visit until the New Year. when he finally remembered.

The house itself was made of all kinds of awesome. She had splurged and leased for the year, a three bedroom fully furnished home right there on the beach with a private strip of sand.. She loved it! Watching as the sun rose from the sliding glass doors, she got an odd idea. A few looks here and there and Maggie was dressed warmly (as the weather was really freaking weird lately in regards to the coastal waters).

With gear in hand. She was going to make a sand castle while she waited to see if Don remembered or not.

(ooc -pre-dated to Xmas- Take your time and do your owed prompts. I can wait. :D)

As LJ have now starting this flagging journals and made it possible to set journals for Adult Concepts and see how posts go on a case by case basis.

Character name: Maggie Margaret Bethany Francis
Fandom: OC
Disclaimers warning: none
Challenge topic: picture prompt
Rating: G
Word Count: 167 words

Oooh boy, it was cold today. Maggie shivered and pulled her sweater around her just a bit tighter. Not so bad though that she couldn’t dip her toes into the ocean’s waves that were lapping at the shore and doing its best to cover up the tracks of all who walked it’s shores just hours before. Maggie knew better than to go too far out in this weather – only to the ankles and never for too long. She liked the near numbing feeling from freezing at her feet level and she loved the contrast of warm dry heat above. The salty air was something she had known since a baby. She traveled far and wide, at least in her opinion, but she always came back home. Maybe it was for the love of casinos and family here in Atlantic City that she kept coming back.

Or maybe, just maybe, she couldn’t tear herself away from the shores that seemed to nurture a Jersey girl with wandering feet.