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Now that I have an aircon set up I can finally recover some sleep and get back on track with things. Do give H1 a follower and some praise, he has been a delight to work with so far.\n\nCover art by [iconname]H1DRAW[/iconname]", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Only one last chapter to do and it won't be as long of a wait as this one, sorry about that but the summer heat has been killing me. Now that I have an aircon set up I can finally recover some sleep and get back on track with things. Do give H1 a follower and some praise, he has been a delight to work with so far.

Cover art by \r\n\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tH1DRAW\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t		\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tH1DRAW\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
", "writing": "The morning was pleasant, but cold, when Rosey woke up. Rubbing her arms she sat up to find Parsnips sitting on the edge of her egg with his eyes looking at the morning sun. Without looking away he reached down to a small bag of popcorn on his lap and grabbed a handful. Rosey noticed that it was almost completely coated in sugar. \n\n“Parsnips? You're small again.”\n\n“And you’re awake!”\n\nParsnips replied excitedly as he rolled off the edge of the eggshell. Rosey crawled over to see where he went but found he had vanished. Looking around the forest in front of her she tried to stand up but found her legs to be weak. \n\n“I got you a gift!”\n\nParsnips suddenly called out from right behind her. She flinched a little, her hands suddenly grabbing the eggshell hard enough to snap a piece off. The feeling was nostalgic to her, but she still wished he would stop doing that.\n\n“Oh. Thanks.”\n\nRosey replied as she took the black box wrapped up in pink ribbon, and gave him the piece of the eggshell in return. Inside she found a fluffy black sweater and a familiar looking baret. After slipping them on she looked over the sweater and wrapped her hands around herself. The cozy fabric was the softest thing she had ever felt. \n\nShe opened her mouth to thank him again but upon seeing him gnawing on the eggshell she could not find the words. Instead she just patted him on the head. He beamed back at her with a smile before skipping forward and scooping her up in his small arms. After hopping out of the eggshell he stopped for a moment to adjust how he was holding her. His hand moved up and down to different spots on her rear before settling on her tail. Rosey almost giggled at the touch but she kept quiet and let him figure things out. \n\nParsnips walked for a while through the dappled forest. It was peaceful. Full of soft and distant birdsongs and the friendly buzz of bees sitting on flowers. The chilly breeze was no match for Rosey’s new sweater too and Parsnips’ touch was quite warm as well. Not as much as his bigger form, but enough to be comfortable. Resting her head against his, she watched the greenery pass them by. \n\n“So where are we going this fine morning?”\n\n“Oh! I was thinking… A picnic.”\n\nParsnips said as he stopped for a second and pulled out a wicker picnic basket from the nearest bush, much to Rosey’s amazement. He hooked it under his arm and adjusted his grip on her before continuing on his walk. \n\n“How do you do that?”\n\n“It’s quite easy, you just need to get a comfy blanket to sit on and then pile up as many tasty treats as you can find!”\n\n“No, not the picnic. How did you make that basket appear like that, is it magic?” \n\n“It’s wicker. Not sure what wicker is made of but it’s a really silly word!”\n\n“You’re doing this on purpose.”\n\n“Doing what?”\n\nParsnips said as his hand seemingly squeezed her tail.\n\n“Being strange, stranger than normal in fact. I just don’t understand anything some days.”\n\n“Better to have an empty head that’s happy than a big icky brain that knows all the bad stuff.”\n\n“But what if I wanted to know anyway?”\n\nSuddenly a strong but oddly warm breeze blew past as Parsnip’s eyes rolled around to look up to Rosey. She clenched her eyes and held a hand to her beret to stop it from flying away while her other arm held onto him. The forest grew silent with all the birdsongs and buzzing insects coming to a stop as he continued to gaze up to her. And then he smiled. His eyes rolled forward to look at the path ahead once more as the wind died down.\n\n“Ok! Pick up your brush.”\n\nParsnips said as he stopped next to a bush. \n\n“A brush?”\n\n“You’re an artist! Every artist needs a brush.”\n\nRosey looked down to the bush next to him. It looked like a normal bush, just one of thousands in a normal forest. Slowly extending her hand however she felt tense, unsure of what exactly was gonna happen. Swallowing the spit in her mouth she reached into the bush and grabbed the first thing her fingers touched. A stick. \n\n“Is… this my brush?”\n\n“No!”\n\nParsnips called out as he gently shook her about playfully, causing her to giggle from the sudden turbulence. Throwing the stick onto the ground she leaned over to look at him more proper. \n\n“So what is my brush?”\n\n“It’s like a pencil but with a ponytail.”\n\n“Yes, I know. But there is no bush in the brush, I mean, there is no brush in the bush!\n\n“There is, if you want one to be.”\n\nParsnip’s eyes flicked to meet her own and Rosey felt a cold shiver run down her spine. Sitting up again she instead turned her eyes up to the sky while thinking over his words. \n\n“So it's belief. If I really, really, want there to be a brush. There will be one.”\n\nRosey said quietly to herself before turning her gaze back down to the bush. She inhaled and focused the best she could, telling herself over and over that there is a brush in the bush. That when she would reach inside there would be one because that is where she left her brush and she was just getting it back. Slowly she reached into the bush, her hand sinking deep into the leaves as her fingers moved past the branches. She closed her eyes and pictured where her brush would be before reaching over and grabbing something. Pulling her hand out she slowly opened an eye, to find a brush in her hand. \n\n“Holy fuck, no way.”\n\n“You found your brush!” \n\n“Yeah...”\n\nPassing the brush to her other hand she reached back into the bush and focused really hard but when she pulled her hand out she was just holding another stick.\n\n“Hmm.”\n\n“You're an artist. You wear fluffy clothes, and cute berets, you have a brush and you paint.”\n\nParsnips spoke as he continued on his walk. Rosey did not quite understand what he meant at first but the more she thought about it the more it started to make some sense.\n\n“If I am an artist, so I can ‘pick up brushes and paint’ then what are you?”\n\n“I am a baker, a gardener, an actor and writer. I can draw with crayons but I am not the best yet. Oh oh, I also own a home and have lots of money. I know how to knit but sewing needles are too dangerous to play with. I am many things I guess!”\n\n“Yeah, you are.”\n\nRosey agreed as she rubbed the soft fabric of her sweater. She only now realized that it smelled faintly like freshly baked cookies. Warm and sweet. Resting her head against his again, Rosey closed her eyes and listened to the birdsongs as he continued to travel through the old forest. His steps were quick, light and despite the prancing motion he made sure not to shake Rosey out of her daydreams. \n\nAcross the meadows he ran as wild things slept beneath. Over looping rivers that had no source or end to them. Through wild groves of black roses and blood red thorns that dared not to slow his advance. The birds watched him at a distance, while beasts great and small made sure to stay clear of his path. As he passed by ancient cairns tied up with silk and bones, even the sun came out to light his way through the darkest parts of the old forest’s heart. Finally, after much travel he came to a stop on a hill that overlooked a large and beautiful valley. All over its meadows you could see small blue flowers in bloom. \n\n“We are here!”\n\nParsnips said as he gave Rosey a gentle shake. Opening up her eyes she let out a small yawn and stretched her arms out the best she could before taking a look around. The view was impressive, with not an ounce of fog obscuring the huge and sprawling valley laid before her. Stepping down from his arms she wobbled a bit before finding her balance. Walking up to the single tree that sat on the hill she placed a hand on it’s old bark and felt a pang of nostalgia and familiarity with this place, despite never being here before.\n\n“Is this Bluefield?”\n\n“It will be!” \n\nParsnips said as he unfurled the large picnic blanket and laid it out across the grass. Rosey looked to the valley. There were forests, and a river, some hills way off in the distance and countless blue flowers. While it was wild and natural she could recognize the hills she had once sat on, the fields she had painted in. It was Bluefield, but in a world where it never existed. \n\nShe looked back to Parsnips who was pulling out sandwiches with one hand while licking the palm of the other, that had been rubbing her tail all morning. She could not help but smirk.\n\n“You’re going to make a new Bluefield?” \n\n“Nope.” \n\nParsnips replied as he stopped licking his hand and reached into the basket with both. From within he pulled out an easel, followed by a large, very wide, canvas which he offered to Rosey. She took them but could not help but stare at him in doubt. \n\n“I think there is a bit of a difference in, eh, finding my brush, and painting a whole town.”\n\n“Silly, the brush was the hard part. The first step always is!”\n\nParsnips replied as he took out a hot pot of tea from the basket, several cups and plates, sugar, milk, honey, cream and jam alike. Dragging the easel over to the tree she placed it down facing the valley and fitted the canvas to it but as she gazed over the vast stretch of land before her she could not help but feel the slightest bit of doubt. \n\n“You’ll make something amazing I am sure! You’re a way, way, better artist than I am!\n\nParsnips spoke as he put six sugarcubes into his cup of tea, took a sip, and started to put more in. \n\n“I am gonna need more than a brush.”\n\nRosey replied as she went over to the basket and reached inside. She brought out a light pencil, then some tubes of paint in red and white, followed by pink and yellow, then blue and green and black. Lastly she got herself a palette. One stained with old paints and scratches, just like she always wanted.\n\nAfter leaving all her art supplies next to the easel she sat herself down on the picnic blanket and looked over the many things Parsnips had been pulling out of the small basket. The tea smelled fruity and delicious. The cakes were moist and warm as if they were just pulled from the oven. There was fruit, from bananas to strawberries that looked so ripe and juicy that Rosey could almost swear they were about to burst. Freshly baked bread, sliced and lightly toasted just waiting for one of the many preserves to be spread across it. Rosey wiped the drool from her chin and grabbed something at random as her stomach loudly growled. Once she had started to eat she was made aware of just how hungry she really was, and was unable to stop herself until that craving had been completely satisfied. \n\nIt took several breakfasts worth of food, a couple of brunches and a light lunch to finally make her feel full but she did not feel bloated by the end either. Rosey simply felt satisfied. Apart from the fantastic food this whole morning was something she had always dreamed of. A lovely picnic in the countryside with a handsome, caring, husband and a selection of fresh and delicious meals. Pouring herself some tea she debated for a moment what to do next and found the canvas to be calling to her. \n\nTaking up her pencil she started by tracing out the land before her, taking great care to get the peaks and valleys of how it flowed exactly the same as what her eyes could see. Next she traced out the river that flowed gently down from the valley’s edge and across its bottom before flowing out of the other side. With the main features done she then turned her attention to the happy little trees and flowers however she made sure to leave a large area in the middle of the valley less detailed, as if all the nature had been stripped away. \n\nNow that the lay of the land had been sorted she began to sketch out the foundations of the town. Roadways that cut through the valley and train tracks and made their way through the hills via tunnels came first, followed by a cute little dock on the river where canal boats could park. Up on the peaks of the valley she added windmills and solar panels before finally turning her attention to the main area. The style of buildings that she began to sketch out were of an older make, traditional for western parts of europe, but with modern additions that made them far more comfortable to live in. The main part of the town sat on both sides of the river while two wide bridges connected them for easy travel, furthermore bigger and more upstate buildings sat higher up on the valley’s slope. Even with just the sketch it already began to feel cozy and historical, as if it had always been here. \n\n“Don’t you think this is, like, a bit unfair. Surely other people could make more use of this magic stuff you can do more than I could?”\n\nRosey asked as she began to mix her paints together for the shades she wanted. \n\n“Rosey should respect herself more, not everybody can draw as well as she does without going blind.” \n\nParsnips said flatly before clearing his throat.\n\n“Rosey is the bestest artist I know of! You should be super proud of that.”\n\n“Y-yeah. I bet you're right on that.”\n\n“I always tell the truth! Not a single lie, I can promise you that!” \n\nPutting the brush to the canvas Rosey blinked a few times before starting to block out the larger shapes and forms of the land in front of her. Rich shades of green for the grass and trees, with a ribbon of blue for the river and finer speckles for the flowers. \n\n“You know, since I woke up yesterday. Or I guess hatched. Doesn’t that mean it was my birthday yesterday as well?”\n\n“Oh gosh! I need to bake you a cake, a super duper special cake! And presents too, yes!” \n\n“No need, I think everything you have given me today has more than made up for it.”\n\n“Oh that won’t do, no no no, every birthday needs cake.”\n\nRosey turned her head from the canvas for a second as her long ears picked up the sounds of him scribbling away on a notepad with a crayon. The concentration in his eyes and the way he stuck his tongue out was like a kid writing down his list for christmas. Adorable to say the least. Smiling warmly she turned her attention back to her painting and continued with the smaller details. \n\n“You are a baker, and a baker must bake. Just like an artist must draw, right?”\n\n“Mhm, mhm.” \n\nTime passed slowly with nothing but the warm summer breeze to count the minutes. Rosey found herself getting into the creative zone, with every brush stroke taking up all of her concentration. They went from broad and smooth movements for the larger amounts of the scene in front of her, to smaller and smaller details. Before she knew it she was using only a few hairs of the paintbrush to add bricks to even the most distant house. Her eyes could barely even see what she was painting and yet her hands moved perfectly. Not a blade of grass out of place. Not a pebble where it did not belong. \n\nAfter blinking a few times Rosey took her worn brush off the canvas and stepped back to look at it. The sheer detail and scale of it all surprised even herself. The rich use of colors, the sheer depth of every line. It was closer to a photograph than a painting!\n\nOnce the spots in her eyes had faded she stepped to the side of the canvas and took a look out at the shallow valley infront of her once more. It was beautiful. An old and historical country town nestled between a shallow valley, the meadows were speckled with blue while the wider parts of the valley further downriver opened up into bountiful, golden, wheat fields. It looked a lot like the bluefield she knew of, but also different in many small areas. Little improvements that suited her tastes. \n\nTurning around she found that Parsnips and the picnic had vanished with only a small side table left in his wake. Placed on it was a single black rose and a note decorated in pink and yellow. \n\n“Dearest Rosey, I have gone on ahead to do some totally not suspicious shopping in the lovely and very beautiful town you have painted. I will meet you at the cottage later on, signed daddy bunner Parsnips.”\n\n“He’s been learning.”\n\nRosey mused as she took the black rose and looked it over, before giving it a sniff. It was freshly cut and the possible meanings related to it was not lost on her either. She tucked it into her hat before picking up the painting and putting it under her arm. Heading down the grassy hill she began to make her way toward the town. \n\nSoon the soft grass of the valley turned into stones as a path appeared. They were clean and smooth but with weeds growing between the smallest of cracks. Rosey soon came upon a house that sat on the very edge of the town, a quiet and peaceful looking place with a beautifully lush garden covering the front yard. She glanced at it but did not stop for long as she continued her way downhill. The path grew wider and soon hedges started to flank her on both sides as she got closer to the town. After taking a turn she found herself on a small street with taller buildings on every side. Following it she soon found herself on the mainstreet that ran alongside the edge of the river itself. She stopped here for a moment, leaning on the metal railing overlooking the water. Breathing in the crisp air she let out a heavy sigh and looked around the town. There was a bakery, bookstores, art supplies and craft stores alike. A farmers market and fishmonger just a ways down the river too. There was just one thing wrong. The entire town was empty. Not a single soul anywhere to be seen, no sounds, no lights just a dead silence. \n\nRosey however already knew why it was quiet and considering she was wearing nothing but a sweater and a beret it was for the best there was nobody around to stare. Turning her attention downriver she began to follow the metal railing for a while before crossing over the wide stone bridge and continuing on down the other mainstreet.\n\nIt was a peculiar feeling to know where everything was laid out in a town that she had only created some moments ago. Even the buildings, alleyways and shops that she had not personally added due to the limited angle of the painting were fresh in her memory. All in all though it did prove useful for navigating the old streets. Heading further away from the town she made her way down the river and towards the wheat fields and farms. It was between the town and these farms that several quiet cottages sat, including a row of them labeled with an old metal sign. Daffodil Lane. \n\nEach cottage was like the rest. The front had a small fenced off garden with pretty flowers and neatly cut grass. The back of the cottages however had a much larger garden with another fence separating the wheat fields just across the way. Some had larger trees, others greenhouses or ponds. But just like the rest of the town it was all completely empty and quiet, except for one cottage at the very end where music could be faintly heard wafting through open windows. The sound was comforting and welcoming, the already smiling Rosey growing even more relaxed as she approached. \n\nGoing through the freshly oiled gate and across the paving stones dividing the front garden, Rosey stopped at the front door of her cottage. Turning around she looked at the view stretching ahead of her. Peaceful cottages, golden farms and a cute mossy town. Nodding to herself she turned around and opened the door. The inside was familiar but different in places. For one this cottage was a bit bigger than the old and even the front entrance was wider. Despite that, the sweet smell of things baking away and the cozy nature of the heating were exactly what she remembered. \n\nAfter placing the painting down in the hall, she headed left into the living room to find Parsnips waiting for her. \n\n“Surprise!”\n\nHe called out. Rosey noticed around away that he had just finished making a sizable cake, which now sat on the coffee table next to tea and other sweet snacks. The cake itself was not simple and the elaborate black icing that swirled around the edges reminded her of the rose he had left behind on the hill. \n\n“I made you a cake! And I got snacks and tea and a whole pile of your favorite films, at least I think they are your favorite films… Oh, and I would love to lick, um, give mouth sex as well! Happy birthday!” \n\nRosey felt hot. Not with arousal but with love, her cheeks burned and she felt shy like a young teenager getting a crush on some cool, older guy. Reaching down she kissed him on his forehead. \n\n“You’re sweet, but can you say ‘cunnilingus’ for me?”\n\n“Cunn-eee-lingas?”\n\n“Mhm, it’s a rather french sounding way of giving your wife mouth sex. And you’re free to give, cunnilingus, anytime you like.” \n\nRosey whispered to him as her tail wiggled back and two against her sweater.\n\n“Oh-kay!”\n\nParsnips suddenly called out as he slipped both of his hands up her sweater and took hold of her hips. Surprised Rosey stumbled back against the wall, her giggling quickly turning to a sweet moan as Parsnips took her words as literal as possible. The music helped drown out some of these flustered giggling moans but there was nobody in town yet to hear them, or the other such noises that would soon follow. ", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "The morning was pleasant, but cold, when Rosey woke up. Rubbing her arms she sat up to find Parsnips sitting on the edge of her egg with his eyes looking at the morning sun. Without looking away he reached down to a small bag of popcorn on his lap and grabbed a handful. Rosey noticed that it was almost completely coated in sugar.

“Parsnips? You're small again.”

“And you’re awake!”

Parsnips replied excitedly as he rolled off the edge of the eggshell. Rosey crawled over to see where he went but found he had vanished. Looking around the forest in front of her she tried to stand up but found her legs to be weak.

“I got you a gift!”

Parsnips suddenly called out from right behind her. She flinched a little, her hands suddenly grabbing the eggshell hard enough to snap a piece off. The feeling was nostalgic to her, but she still wished he would stop doing that.

“Oh. Thanks.”

Rosey replied as she took the black box wrapped up in pink ribbon, and gave him the piece of the eggshell in return. Inside she found a fluffy black sweater and a familiar looking baret. After slipping them on she looked over the sweater and wrapped her hands around herself. The cozy fabric was the softest thing she had ever felt.

She opened her mouth to thank him again but upon seeing him gnawing on the eggshell she could not find the words. Instead she just patted him on the head. He beamed back at her with a smile before skipping forward and scooping her up in his small arms. After hopping out of the eggshell he stopped for a moment to adjust how he was holding her. His hand moved up and down to different spots on her rear before settling on her tail. Rosey almost giggled at the touch but she kept quiet and let him figure things out.

Parsnips walked for a while through the dappled forest. It was peaceful. Full of soft and distant birdsongs and the friendly buzz of bees sitting on flowers. The chilly breeze was no match for Rosey’s new sweater too and Parsnips’ touch was quite warm as well. Not as much as his bigger form, but enough to be comfortable. Resting her head against his, she watched the greenery pass them by.

“So where are we going this fine morning?”

“Oh! I was thinking… A picnic.”

Parsnips said as he stopped for a second and pulled out a wicker picnic basket from the nearest bush, much to Rosey’s amazement. He hooked it under his arm and adjusted his grip on her before continuing on his walk.

“How do you do that?”

“It’s quite easy, you just need to get a comfy blanket to sit on and then pile up as many tasty treats as you can find!”

“No, not the picnic. How did you make that basket appear like that, is it magic?”

“It’s wicker. Not sure what wicker is made of but it’s a really silly word!”

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Doing what?”

Parsnips said as his hand seemingly squeezed her tail.

“Being strange, stranger than normal in fact. I just don’t understand anything some days.”

“Better to have an empty head that’s happy than a big icky brain that knows all the bad stuff.”

“But what if I wanted to know anyway?”

Suddenly a strong but oddly warm breeze blew past as Parsnip’s eyes rolled around to look up to Rosey. She clenched her eyes and held a hand to her beret to stop it from flying away while her other arm held onto him. The forest grew silent with all the birdsongs and buzzing insects coming to a stop as he continued to gaze up to her. And then he smiled. His eyes rolled forward to look at the path ahead once more as the wind died down.

“Ok! Pick up your brush.”

Parsnips said as he stopped next to a bush.

“A brush?”

“You’re an artist! Every artist needs a brush.”

Rosey looked down to the bush next to him. It looked like a normal bush, just one of thousands in a normal forest. Slowly extending her hand however she felt tense, unsure of what exactly was gonna happen. Swallowing the spit in her mouth she reached into the bush and grabbed the first thing her fingers touched. A stick.

“Is… this my brush?”

“No!”

Parsnips called out as he gently shook her about playfully, causing her to giggle from the sudden turbulence. Throwing the stick onto the ground she leaned over to look at him more proper.

“So what is my brush?”

“It’s like a pencil but with a ponytail.”

“Yes, I know. But there is no bush in the brush, I mean, there is no brush in the bush!

“There is, if you want one to be.”

Parsnip’s eyes flicked to meet her own and Rosey felt a cold shiver run down her spine. Sitting up again she instead turned her eyes up to the sky while thinking over his words.

“So it's belief. If I really, really, want there to be a brush. There will be one.”

Rosey said quietly to herself before turning her gaze back down to the bush. She inhaled and focused the best she could, telling herself over and over that there is a brush in the bush. That when she would reach inside there would be one because that is where she left her brush and she was just getting it back. Slowly she reached into the bush, her hand sinking deep into the leaves as her fingers moved past the branches. She closed her eyes and pictured where her brush would be before reaching over and grabbing something. Pulling her hand out she slowly opened an eye, to find a brush in her hand.

“Holy fuck, no way.”

“You found your brush!”

“Yeah...”

Passing the brush to her other hand she reached back into the bush and focused really hard but when she pulled her hand out she was just holding another stick.

“Hmm.”

“You're an artist. You wear fluffy clothes, and cute berets, you have a brush and you paint.”

Parsnips spoke as he continued on his walk. Rosey did not quite understand what he meant at first but the more she thought about it the more it started to make some sense.

“If I am an artist, so I can ‘pick up brushes and paint’ then what are you?”

“I am a baker, a gardener, an actor and writer. I can draw with crayons but I am not the best yet. Oh oh, I also own a home and have lots of money. I know how to knit but sewing needles are too dangerous to play with. I am many things I guess!”

“Yeah, you are.”

Rosey agreed as she rubbed the soft fabric of her sweater. She only now realized that it smelled faintly like freshly baked cookies. Warm and sweet. Resting her head against his again, Rosey closed her eyes and listened to the birdsongs as he continued to travel through the old forest. His steps were quick, light and despite the prancing motion he made sure not to shake Rosey out of her daydreams.

Across the meadows he ran as wild things slept beneath. Over looping rivers that had no source or end to them. Through wild groves of black roses and blood red thorns that dared not to slow his advance. The birds watched him at a distance, while beasts great and small made sure to stay clear of his path. As he passed by ancient cairns tied up with silk and bones, even the sun came out to light his way through the darkest parts of the old forest’s heart. Finally, after much travel he came to a stop on a hill that overlooked a large and beautiful valley. All over its meadows you could see small blue flowers in bloom.

“We are here!”

Parsnips said as he gave Rosey a gentle shake. Opening up her eyes she let out a small yawn and stretched her arms out the best she could before taking a look around. The view was impressive, with not an ounce of fog obscuring the huge and sprawling valley laid before her. Stepping down from his arms she wobbled a bit before finding her balance. Walking up to the single tree that sat on the hill she placed a hand on it’s old bark and felt a pang of nostalgia and familiarity with this place, despite never being here before.

“Is this Bluefield?”

“It will be!”

Parsnips said as he unfurled the large picnic blanket and laid it out across the grass. Rosey looked to the valley. There were forests, and a river, some hills way off in the distance and countless blue flowers. While it was wild and natural she could recognize the hills she had once sat on, the fields she had painted in. It was Bluefield, but in a world where it never existed.

She looked back to Parsnips who was pulling out sandwiches with one hand while licking the palm of the other, that had been rubbing her tail all morning. She could not help but smirk.

“You’re going to make a new Bluefield?”

“Nope.”

Parsnips replied as he stopped licking his hand and reached into the basket with both. From within he pulled out an easel, followed by a large, very wide, canvas which he offered to Rosey. She took them but could not help but stare at him in doubt.

“I think there is a bit of a difference in, eh, finding my brush, and painting a whole town.”

“Silly, the brush was the hard part. The first step always is!”

Parsnips replied as he took out a hot pot of tea from the basket, several cups and plates, sugar, milk, honey, cream and jam alike. Dragging the easel over to the tree she placed it down facing the valley and fitted the canvas to it but as she gazed over the vast stretch of land before her she could not help but feel the slightest bit of doubt.

“You’ll make something amazing I am sure! You’re a way, way, better artist than I am!

Parsnips spoke as he put six sugarcubes into his cup of tea, took a sip, and started to put more in.

“I am gonna need more than a brush.”

Rosey replied as she went over to the basket and reached inside. She brought out a light pencil, then some tubes of paint in red and white, followed by pink and yellow, then blue and green and black. Lastly she got herself a palette. One stained with old paints and scratches, just like she always wanted.

After leaving all her art supplies next to the easel she sat herself down on the picnic blanket and looked over the many things Parsnips had been pulling out of the small basket. The tea smelled fruity and delicious. The cakes were moist and warm as if they were just pulled from the oven. There was fruit, from bananas to strawberries that looked so ripe and juicy that Rosey could almost swear they were about to burst. Freshly baked bread, sliced and lightly toasted just waiting for one of the many preserves to be spread across it. Rosey wiped the drool from her chin and grabbed something at random as her stomach loudly growled. Once she had started to eat she was made aware of just how hungry she really was, and was unable to stop herself until that craving had been completely satisfied.

It took several breakfasts worth of food, a couple of brunches and a light lunch to finally make her feel full but she did not feel bloated by the end either. Rosey simply felt satisfied. Apart from the fantastic food this whole morning was something she had always dreamed of. A lovely picnic in the countryside with a handsome, caring, husband and a selection of fresh and delicious meals. Pouring herself some tea she debated for a moment what to do next and found the canvas to be calling to her.

Taking up her pencil she started by tracing out the land before her, taking great care to get the peaks and valleys of how it flowed exactly the same as what her eyes could see. Next she traced out the river that flowed gently down from the valley’s edge and across its bottom before flowing out of the other side. With the main features done she then turned her attention to the happy little trees and flowers however she made sure to leave a large area in the middle of the valley less detailed, as if all the nature had been stripped away.

Now that the lay of the land had been sorted she began to sketch out the foundations of the town. Roadways that cut through the valley and train tracks and made their way through the hills via tunnels came first, followed by a cute little dock on the river where canal boats could park. Up on the peaks of the valley she added windmills and solar panels before finally turning her attention to the main area. The style of buildings that she began to sketch out were of an older make, traditional for western parts of europe, but with modern additions that made them far more comfortable to live in. The main part of the town sat on both sides of the river while two wide bridges connected them for easy travel, furthermore bigger and more upstate buildings sat higher up on the valley’s slope. Even with just the sketch it already began to feel cozy and historical, as if it had always been here.

“Don’t you think this is, like, a bit unfair. Surely other people could make more use of this magic stuff you can do more than I could?”

Rosey asked as she began to mix her paints together for the shades she wanted.

“Rosey should respect herself more, not everybody can draw as well as she does without going blind.”

Parsnips said flatly before clearing his throat.

“Rosey is the bestest artist I know of! You should be super proud of that.”

“Y-yeah. I bet you're right on that.”

“I always tell the truth! Not a single lie, I can promise you that!”

Putting the brush to the canvas Rosey blinked a few times before starting to block out the larger shapes and forms of the land in front of her. Rich shades of green for the grass and trees, with a ribbon of blue for the river and finer speckles for the flowers.

“You know, since I woke up yesterday. Or I guess hatched. Doesn’t that mean it was my birthday yesterday as well?”

“Oh gosh! I need to bake you a cake, a super duper special cake! And presents too, yes!”

“No need, I think everything you have given me today has more than made up for it.”

“Oh that won’t do, no no no, every birthday needs cake.”

Rosey turned her head from the canvas for a second as her long ears picked up the sounds of him scribbling away on a notepad with a crayon. The concentration in his eyes and the way he stuck his tongue out was like a kid writing down his list for christmas. Adorable to say the least. Smiling warmly she turned her attention back to her painting and continued with the smaller details.

“You are a baker, and a baker must bake. Just like an artist must draw, right?”

“Mhm, mhm.”

Time passed slowly with nothing but the warm summer breeze to count the minutes. Rosey found herself getting into the creative zone, with every brush stroke taking up all of her concentration. They went from broad and smooth movements for the larger amounts of the scene in front of her, to smaller and smaller details. Before she knew it she was using only a few hairs of the paintbrush to add bricks to even the most distant house. Her eyes could barely even see what she was painting and yet her hands moved perfectly. Not a blade of grass out of place. Not a pebble where it did not belong.

After blinking a few times Rosey took her worn brush off the canvas and stepped back to look at it. The sheer detail and scale of it all surprised even herself. The rich use of colors, the sheer depth of every line. It was closer to a photograph than a painting!

Once the spots in her eyes had faded she stepped to the side of the canvas and took a look out at the shallow valley infront of her once more. It was beautiful. An old and historical country town nestled between a shallow valley, the meadows were speckled with blue while the wider parts of the valley further downriver opened up into bountiful, golden, wheat fields. It looked a lot like the bluefield she knew of, but also different in many small areas. Little improvements that suited her tastes.

Turning around she found that Parsnips and the picnic had vanished with only a small side table left in his wake. Placed on it was a single black rose and a note decorated in pink and yellow.

“Dearest Rosey, I have gone on ahead to do some totally not suspicious shopping in the lovely and very beautiful town you have painted. I will meet you at the cottage later on, signed daddy bunner Parsnips.”

“He’s been learning.”

Rosey mused as she took the black rose and looked it over, before giving it a sniff. It was freshly cut and the possible meanings related to it was not lost on her either. She tucked it into her hat before picking up the painting and putting it under her arm. Heading down the grassy hill she began to make her way toward the town.

Soon the soft grass of the valley turned into stones as a path appeared. They were clean and smooth but with weeds growing between the smallest of cracks. Rosey soon came upon a house that sat on the very edge of the town, a quiet and peaceful looking place with a beautifully lush garden covering the front yard. She glanced at it but did not stop for long as she continued her way downhill. The path grew wider and soon hedges started to flank her on both sides as she got closer to the town. After taking a turn she found herself on a small street with taller buildings on every side. Following it she soon found herself on the mainstreet that ran alongside the edge of the river itself. She stopped here for a moment, leaning on the metal railing overlooking the water. Breathing in the crisp air she let out a heavy sigh and looked around the town. There was a bakery, bookstores, art supplies and craft stores alike. A farmers market and fishmonger just a ways down the river too. There was just one thing wrong. The entire town was empty. Not a single soul anywhere to be seen, no sounds, no lights just a dead silence.

Rosey however already knew why it was quiet and considering she was wearing nothing but a sweater and a beret it was for the best there was nobody around to stare. Turning her attention downriver she began to follow the metal railing for a while before crossing over the wide stone bridge and continuing on down the other mainstreet.

It was a peculiar feeling to know where everything was laid out in a town that she had only created some moments ago. Even the buildings, alleyways and shops that she had not personally added due to the limited angle of the painting were fresh in her memory. All in all though it did prove useful for navigating the old streets. Heading further away from the town she made her way down the river and towards the wheat fields and farms. It was between the town and these farms that several quiet cottages sat, including a row of them labeled with an old metal sign. Daffodil Lane.

Each cottage was like the rest. The front had a small fenced off garden with pretty flowers and neatly cut grass. The back of the cottages however had a much larger garden with another fence separating the wheat fields just across the way. Some had larger trees, others greenhouses or ponds. But just like the rest of the town it was all completely empty and quiet, except for one cottage at the very end where music could be faintly heard wafting through open windows. The sound was comforting and welcoming, the already smiling Rosey growing even more relaxed as she approached.

Going through the freshly oiled gate and across the paving stones dividing the front garden, Rosey stopped at the front door of her cottage. Turning around she looked at the view stretching ahead of her. Peaceful cottages, golden farms and a cute mossy town. Nodding to herself she turned around and opened the door. The inside was familiar but different in places. For one this cottage was a bit bigger than the old and even the front entrance was wider. Despite that, the sweet smell of things baking away and the cozy nature of the heating were exactly what she remembered.

After placing the painting down in the hall, she headed left into the living room to find Parsnips waiting for her.

“Surprise!”

He called out. Rosey noticed around away that he had just finished making a sizable cake, which now sat on the coffee table next to tea and other sweet snacks. The cake itself was not simple and the elaborate black icing that swirled around the edges reminded her of the rose he had left behind on the hill.

“I made you a cake! And I got snacks and tea and a whole pile of your favorite films, at least I think they are your favorite films…  Oh, and I would love to lick, um, give mouth sex as well! Happy birthday!”

Rosey felt hot. Not with arousal but with love, her cheeks burned and she felt shy like a young teenager getting a crush on some cool, older guy. Reaching down she kissed him on his forehead.

“You’re sweet, but can you say ‘cunnilingus’ for me?”

“Cunn-eee-lingas?”

“Mhm, it’s a rather french sounding way of giving your wife mouth sex. And you’re free to give, cunnilingus, anytime you like.”

Rosey whispered to him as her tail wiggled back and two against her sweater.

“Oh-kay!”

Parsnips suddenly called out as he slipped both of his hands up her sweater and took hold of her hips. Surprised Rosey stumbled back against the wall, her giggling quickly turning to a sweet moan as Parsnips took her words as literal as possible. The music helped drown out some of these flustered giggling moans but there was nobody in town yet to hear them, or the other such noises that would soon follow. ", "pools_count": 2, "title": "Parsnip Chapter 9 - The first day, again", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "image/png", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "f", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "6", "views": "2097" }