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kazyurmao · 6 months

Text

ɪɴ ᴇxɪʟᴇ

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

Word Count: 1869

Diluc x Best Friend Reader

Synopsis: He could never love you back, as much as you wanted—your childhood friend betrays you. The paths of two best friends disconnect.

Warnings: Unrequited love, angst, no comfort, mentions of physical abuse (and mental)

└───❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚┘

Your pupils constricted, and your eyes widened at the sight of your impending doom. Your breath had become shallow—you were running out of breath. Up–and down, your chest had become heavy at the sight of Diluc running away from the scene—he was escaping as you were being left to rot in hell.

You begged for a deity—any deity to come and save you, screaming from the immense stab in your soul. You were running out of breath, tears spilling over to the ground, your disparity was ascending to the last moments of your life.

He wasn’t coming.

He wasn’t rescuing

He wasn’t saving

He—Ragnvidr— was leaving you.

As he took Jean, he took off not even looking back, as he didn’t even let any minute slide in choosing her over you.

Why must it come to this?

✿

Laughter

They used to laugh, hiding amongst the Vitis vinifera, his red eyes—the color of apothecia crimson red—looked over at you with sweet innocence. They laughed, he would shove syrahs into your mouth, “Father wouldn’t notice (y/n)!” He whispered with a small giggle being let out amongst his lips.

They laughed, he would gently take a hold of your hands—his hands were soft—warm—he was a spark of flame. Gently guiding you far away from the ballroom, they went outside to eat merlots—the plumpness of the grape made it all the sweeter to taste when he was by your side.

They laughed, and you watched him from the sidelines, as he swayed his claymore from one side to another. You carried a basket of boysenberry and mulberry—his father had gotten angry that they ate so much from the Vitis vinifera. You sat on the sidelines, as he trained to be a knight—your knight

“We laughed.”

✿

You have grown to love you.

You were only fifteen when you learned that you were madly smitten over his laughter.

You were only fifteen when you learned that you loved his red hair.

You were only fifteen when you learned that you adored his eyes.

You were only fifteen when you learned that your heart skipped when he held your hand.

You were only fifteen when you learned that you loved Diluc Ragnvidr.

yet

You were only sixteen when you learned—

He was in love with another.

“I have grown to love you, but you have not grown to love me.”

✿

The treasure hoarders aim their weapons at you—it is faith that you will end up dying. Slowly releasing your last breath, alongside your love for Ragnvidr.

He never dared to look at you.

Closing your eyes—you awaited for your exile to reach your line of life.

✿

You roamed the lands of Teyvat.

As an exile you roamed. It was that of an unfortunate event—

oh so unfortunate.

The Damselette had reached her hands of holiness to your disparity. Her angelic look—her holiness, she had taken pity on a poor soul—

on your soul.

The divinity of that you were forever indebted to her kindness. You kneeled for her, “Oh my divinity, oh my, how may I please your holiness?”

you were propaganda for the Fatui, you roamed the lands of Teyvat to find fools who were willing to appease the Tsaritsa. You were a mere poster to cleanse the minds of foolish citizens to create a contract with the Fatui.

The fallen angel whispered her divine teachings to you—-of course, you would do anything to appease her.

It was to appease her for the compensation of saving you from your fate. You've escaped fate—you’ve gone against the heavenly principles, ran away from the doom that was supposed to happen on your 17th birthday—your death.

You alone laughed at the gods—whom you prayed countless times to save you, you laughed at the face of Barbatos himself. For the Damselette had become your goddess alone—only you prayed to her to plead for mercy. As you laugh at the face of freedom—you have come to despise freedom.

And most importantly you have come to hate him.

Diluc Ragnvidr

✿

Last Tango in Monstadt,

“Strange dear, but true dear,”

You murmur, hoping, the winds of the west will convey your message to the only boy you had ever fallen in love with—and no you were not a woman that just ‘liked’ him. He had charmed your heart from the very beginning.

So sweet—he was so sweet.

His warm hands slightly touched your cheek—he cupped your cheeks with his rough fingers, kissing your forehead with his warm lips. “It will be alright, everything is alright, I’ll keep holding you—until your tears become that of comfort,” his gentle words—he was the sun—your sun.

It had been a tragedy—hillitrolls had surrounded your vision, and you were just trying to stroll around the whispering wood. Such a tragedy that the nearby hilitroll camp deemed you as a potential threat.

Luck—mercy always stood by your side as Diluc, your knight and shining armor, is quick to hear your prayers.

You used to think—-that the Anemo Archon had heard your pleas, and as a result, he had sent you Diluc from the heavens.

“Don’t worry you are safe,” he constantly reassures you—he makes sure to reassure you, after all, you were his childhood best friend. He will never want to lose his best friend to death itself.

✿

In other words.

so—-why

You plead, as tears rumble down your cheeks, your tears block your view—yet you are still aware of his decision. “Why didn’t you pick me…?” of course, he never heard your whisper—for the first time the wind did not convey your pleas for help.

Maybe because the wind is absent? You don’t know.

It was a standoff, two girls pleading for a life—and one man to make the decision.

You used to think that he would always prioritize you—-think—but that is not the case anymore. For his love was far greater than your value in his heart. It was obvious—so obvious—but you stood there with the illusion that maybe—maybe—-he would choose you.

The treasure hoarders were ruthless, demanding mora.

It's so ironic that the richest man in Monstadt could only save one person.

Maybe he only wanted to save one—who knows?

You can’t help but remember his emotions—his eyes, he looked over you—-it was his goodbye to you. And you stood there with tears spoiling the ground, as you screeched, and he carried Jean over his shoulders—running away from your fate.

Pathetic.

Maybe the Anemo Archos was busy hearing your pleas for freedom? Who knows. But one thing happened that day. The treasure hoarders tortured you. Bringing your skin to burn over their campfire—their grins and monstrous laughs echoed all over their hangout. You pleaded for mercy, hoping….hoping….he (Diluc) would come back to save you. The torture lasted for a whole week, and you….had to endure the pain and heartbreak. You wondered what you did in your past life to deserve this.

They will cut your hair, burn your fingertips, constantly kick your stomach, have you chained up, and never feed you or give water. The people of Monstadt wondered why all the sudden the caves of the south cried, yet they would turn a blind eye knowing nothing could be done.

Leave you to die—and to at last rot.

It was.

A soft voice—a melody you will hear engulf the cave, her innocence sounded that of an angel. She was an angel. Her white clothes—her halo—her wings that covered her body. Her eyes were sacred, permanently closed. Sinners like you were not worthy to stare at an angel like her.

Her hands replicated the same warmth that a foreign person used to do.

You closed your eyes, and her voice engulfed your body. Her lullaby put you to rest, maybe she was the angel that would take you to the afterlife—maybe.

However, you couldn’t help but feel an eerie touch by the hands of her holiness. She didn’t feel like an angel—but her demeanor was that of something more powerful than a simple person with a vision

She smiled, and with that—you will serve your master for an eternity.

✿

Elogia Cinerosa

You can’t completely remember how—how you had entered to be the servant for the Damselette, she had gifted you divinity—a delusion. You are her utmost faithful servant, she will send you out on expeditions leaving you to recruit fools.

You were a sort of sensation, a popular figure among the traitors, replicating the same lullaby she had sung to you—you trapped the jesters of every nation to fall under the greatness of the Tsaritsa.

You performed, singing around the taverns—the opera houses—entertaining foolish civilians. You were a puppet—a puppet to your dearest Damselette.

✿

Dance for me Diluc

It wouldn’t take long.

You were sent out to perform in Monstadt—the land of the ‘free.’

It wouldn’t take long for you to lock eyes with the man you used to cherish.

His orbs widened at the sight of your presence in his bar, his hands were shaking, hearing the crack of the wine glass. The world shattered around his bar, you like to think of his life shock because you were alive. But you knew he was shocked to see you with an insignia of Fatui.

You knew—you knew everything

The death of his father, how he went on a rampage to kill every Fatui he saw.

His eyes no longer carried softness, nor reinsurance, this time you were going to die.

But not from the hands of treasure hoarders—but by his own very hands.

You both interlocked, but you no longer held the eyes of a smitten fool. You performed, continuing to strike and lure drunken men.

Oh, how he knew—Diluc knew your plot, your scheme.

✿

Lovers.

Your polearm clashed against his claymore—using your electro vision you managed to form a claymore yourself. You kept dodging his attacks—only missing by an inch, you sprinted towards him—and jumped by using your polearm as leverage. You held your electro claymore with your left hand—you were slightly above him, yet he managed to block your attack quickly.

You both were at it for a couple of hours—you knew he was more powerful.

You knew.

You felt your delusion become even more difficult to handle—and it was harrowing. It felt like lighting kept striking your body over and over. “You Fatui scum, you never know when to stop!” Diluc’s voice itself had become lighting, as he ran towards you—and you knew, oh you knew—

So ironic being killed by the man you adored.

Your body could no longer handle the immense amount of pain, and you glared at him—clutching your side, “Then do us the honor and kill this scum? Why don’t you Diluc,” you spatted out his name.

Oh how much you hated his name.

You were on your knees—knowing the outcome, you stared at him for the last time. You weren’t that woman anymore—the woman he thought you would be, the woman that was so kind, the girl that would await him on the sidelines with a basket of grapes, the girl who was glad to see him.

Because he had killed that girl—and he will kill the current woman that stands in front of him.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Authors note:

Hello everyone! it’s a pleasure to meet everyone (well if you are reading this who knows). This is my first time (obviously) writing a fanfic, and overall I am new to the Tumblr space. I do apologize for my writing style—I don’t write fan fiction as I am more into other forms of writing. However, I have been very fascinated with how people write fan fiction—I know it's a bit weird. The formatting for this fanfic is all over the place—I’ll try my best to adapt to a format that is more adequate for fanfics. ALSO I apologize for the abrupt ending (lowkey embarrassed to post this)

Anyways! Have a good life <3

— Mao

#diluc x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc angst #diluc x reader angst #genshin x you

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ruershrimo · 4 months

Note

#18 with platonic Brother-in-law Diluc! I think it would be funny if Traveller!Reader (jokingly) and Paimon (not so jokingly) kept asking for increasingly expensive things for Christmas. Whether Diluc delivers is up to you.

the christmas mix | #18- santa baby & #7- rocking around the christmas tree | brother-in-law!diluc and traveller!reader (platonic), husband!kaeya x traveller!reader (romantic)

event masterlist

features diluc (platonic), kaeya (romantic), traveller!reader

notes: hello honey, I really hope this is okay!! you were so sweet and I really liked your idea hahah it just took me a while. I’m so sorry if it’s not up to standard and wasn’t worth the wait (please let me know if you’d like me to write anything else in the future to compensate ;v;,,). regardless, I hope you have a wonderful christmas ❤️!!

warnings: none, really (except for no capitalisation, I suppose?)

summary: it seems like paimon doesn’t have any regard for diluc’s bank account (and why would she?), and that your husband and his brother will be having a good christmas this year, whether they’d like to admit it or not.

christmas in mondstadt, you’ve come to learn, is always a cheery, beautiful thing. there are stalls temporarily set up in springvale and the city itself, selling mulled dandelion wine, more varieties of wurst than there were dandelion seeds in teyvat, and all kinds of lovely little trinkets from traditionally made wooden toys to handmade christmas tree ornaments. it’s like the one time of the year when parents are taking their children all the way to dragonspine to play with the snow, the time when citizens are flocking to the cathedral to pray to their lord (who just so happens to be the drunkard singing christmas carols in the tavern), the time when families are gathering by the fireplace to chat and bask in each other’s presence or sitting by the table to enjoy a lovingly prepared meal at christmas gatherings, parties and the like. even some members of the knights of favonius are taking a break no matter how busy they are— especially jean, lord knows how much the lady needs a break— and you and your husband kaeya already have loads of preparations underway for christmas gatherings and the like.

it was a lovely thing.

“merry christmas,” your brother-in-law— diluc ragnvindr, the wine tycoon himself— greets you as you enter the tavern after a long day of commissions (it was to be expected, what with all the preparations needed to be made for a safe and pleasant christmas).

kaeya waves at you as you sit by the counter, before you peck his cheek and tuck some few of his luscious strands of blue hair behind his ear with a “hello, love”.

“merry christmas to you too,” you reply to diluc, “even if it’s only, like— a whole week away?”

“well, christmas in mondstadt starts a month before the actual day itself,” kaeya jokes, “and I’m sure my dear brother would be pleased to gift you whatever christmas present you’d like, wouldn’t you, diluc?”

diluc grimaces as if looking at the most disgusting thing he’d ever seen. (it was funny.) “shouldn’t you be doing that for your own spouse, kaeya?” even the way he says his brother’s name sounds like he’s spitting it out, though you know he doesn’t truly despise him, and so you try your best to hold a snort.

“oooh, ooh, master diluc!” paimon starts, rather discourteously (or maybe out of a lack of care for how the poor man would perceive her) waving her little arms about before his face, “maybe you can give us some really tasty, fancy food for christmas!”

“hmm, expensive, too,” you join in, teasing him, “oh, please, diluc? or maybe even one of those new automobile machines they’re working on in fontaine…”

it seems kaeya’s getting the hint— your hint, at least, since it seems like paimon is every bit serious about this unlike you and your husband. “well, you heard them, diluc—”

“I am not getting you a car from fontaine of all places. and aren’t you already closely acquainted with the actual Chief Justice himself?”

and on it went, with paimon naming every thing she could think of, and you (or your beloved kaeya) listing whatever else was more expensive than what she did as if you were raising the price at an auction— yet one difference this had from an actual auction was that instead of the buyers paying for the increasingly costly dishes, gifts and goods, it was poor master diluc instead.

and your brother-in-law, though annoyed, was never fazed by the prices themselves and kept at the empty glasses he had been cleaning.

—

“do you think he’ll actually get any of what we said we wanted?” you ask as the two you walk out the tavern, a dozed-off paimon in your arms.

“I don’t think so,” kaeya begins, “but knowing him… well, let’s just say that whatever he decides to do will be interesting, to say the least.”

“uh-huh,” you reply, raising a brow.

—

there’s music playing from the gramophone, a jolly tune that kaeya hums as the fireplace crackles in tune with in delight.

“kaeya,” you call. he stops mid-hum, setting down the cutlery on the table. he gets up immediately, like a pet to its owner’s voice, and suddenly you’re giggling fondly at the thought without having noticed it.

“yes?” from behind his arms circle you like a warm, snug blanket, luscious and long strands of beautiful blue tickling your back and the nape of your neck, and his hand on your waist.

“I think that madman really did it,” you grin, gesturing to the bottom of the ornately decorated (courtesy of both yours and kaeya’s ideas for where to place each and every ornament) christmas tree, and each of the gifts below them (from how you know what each one is, you’re quite sure he’s not the best gift-wrapper around, but definitely the wealthiest): a cutting-edge thirty-million-mora watch from fontaine, bespoke paimon-sized garments made from liyuean materials and handmade by inazuman tailors, and even a limited-edition TCG card yet to be fully released to the public (you know cyno would be punching the air right now if he knew). “or, at least, he tried to get some, even though some of the wishes we brought up were almost unfulfillable. he tried to get most of them.”

“well I suppose we ought to just wait for him to come, if he’ll even visit,” kaeya says.

“wonder how he even snuck it all here in the first place,” you jest, though you suppose the darknight hero had temporarily done some christmas duties in santa’s stead the night before, “and I’m sure that he’ll come,” you finish, pecking your husband on the cheek.

—

“merry christmas,” diluc says as he walks through the door, and although it’s late and most of the others have left, the clock has yet to strike midnight and it’s still christmas night.

“and a happy christmas to you too, diluc,” kaeya greets, “and I was surprised you actually delivered. you wouldn’t happen to just be fooling us with the wrapping paper, would you?”

“do you want me to have done so?”

pft— even after regaining some of what they had before they bore the titles of estranged brothers, your husband was still absolutely incorrigible. (it was really funny, especially now that you knew each word they spoke to the other had less hate and more love than the last; that you knew it was more of playful jesting against a thoroughly annoyed sigh instead of vestiges of a duel many, many years ago.)

but still. poor old master diluc, having to deal with his brother and his spouse, as well as the borderline unmeetable demands of said brother’s spouse’s long-time travelling companion.

“haha! I was just joking, diluc. but thank you, for this, I suppose.”

“mhm,” you add, “you should’ve seen paimon’s face when she saw the wrapping— actually, we were waiting for you to come so that we could open all of the presents together, right in front of the person who’d gotten them for us.

“paimon!” you call, directing your voice to the rooms above you and up the stairs, “diluc’s here.”

then she floats down, and, like a child, wags her legs about excitedly. “ooh, paimon was so excited for this!”

so the four of you open the gifts together, untangling the poorly-tied ribbons (again, you’re sure diluc must have tried his best, and done so on his own, too) and tearing away at the wrapping paper. paimon squeals in delight with each gift opened, and kaeya whips out a kamera for a picture of the four of you.

—

“merry christmas, diluc,” kaeya says, handing him the gift, “from me to you.”

—

“grape juice, huh?”

“of course. he likes it, after all,” kaeya answered as he sat by the christmas tree, wrapping paper, scissors and tape scattered all over the floor, and then he pointed to the leather-wrapped object beside him, “but this makes everything better.”

“a book? it looks beautiful,” you commented.

“no, a photo album. to capture memories we used to store old mementoes and photos in old boxes, but now that kameras are getting more and more common than ever, I decided to get one like this. see?” he grinned, displaying its opened pages before you, “it has these cases to protect and preserve the photos inside.”

“oh, kaeya,” you kissed his cheek, “it’s wonderful. I’m sure he’ll love it.”

event taglist (please send an ask if you’d like to be added!):

wishing everyone a happy christmas ❤️!

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jjkamochoso · 19 days

Text

The Perfect Fit

Story Overview: Levi Ackerman begrudgingly finds himself falling in love with the Survey Corps’ seamstress. Will they be able to own up to their feelings for each other? Or is their love doomed to fail before they discover the truths of each other’s hearts? This slow burn reader insert story will be filled with angst, yearning, and a bit of mystery as we slowly unravel the truths behind Y/N’s past… and explore her and Levi’s future!

Chapter 3

Chapter 2 linked here

Chapter 4 linked here

Levi Ackerman x female reader

Warnings: cussing, minor character death (not graphic)

As the hours rolled by with nobody from the surrounding villages showing up to their appointments with you, you started to get stressed out. Were they all a bunch of no shows on purpose? Your prices weren’t extravagant but you knew times were tough on everyone, especially after the breach of Wall Maria. Citizens of Wall Rose were fighting for their fair share of resources and jobs while refugees tried their best to not starve on the streets. It was a constant battle for food and wages for anyone outside Wall Sina and you hated to see people fighting amongst themselves when a much larger threat loomed right outside the failing walls. With nothing else to do, you took the time to look over Captain Levi’s torn cape and decide how you were going to mend it. Why did he do that in the first place? Was he taking pity on you? You didn’t mean to tell him all your financial woes, they just slipped out in the heat of the moment. Maybe he just wanted to test your skills with the sewing machine he got you? Yes, that had to be it. You had given the machine a trial run earlier and now you felt confident enough to use it on commissioned pieces. Taking in a deep breath to steady yourself in the midst of the most important project of your life, you got to work.

You sewed tirelessly throughout the afternoon and evening, barely stopping for breaks. You needed to be sure this cape was done before you took your horse into the village tomorrow to see a veterinarian. Speaking of your horse, you heard her let out a long, high pitched whinny. You quickly pushed your chair away from the table and hurried outside. She looked even sicker than she did this morning—an extremely bad sign. She could barely stand, wobbling in her pasture. There was no way she could make the journey into the village, you’d have to run there and ask for an emergency veterinarian house call. You began to cuddle up to her, whispering sweet nothings to her to calm her down, and you could tell she was becoming more and more content. Placing a long, sweet kiss to her snout, you reluctantly pulled away.

“Hold on for me, sweetheart. I’m going to get you some help. Just hang in there. Please.”

Your horse just looked at you and you prayed to whatever higher being might hear you that she understood your intentions. You ran back inside to grab a lantern and jacket for the run through the chilly night air. Taking one last look at your horse, you ran as fast as your legs could take you to the village with the vet.

You were sure that when you came running into the village you looked like a complete madwoman, but you didn’t care. All you knew was that you needed to get to the vet’s house as fast as humanly possible. When you saw his house, the front lantern thankfully still lit, you ran up to the door and pounded on it.

“Dr. Becker! Dr. Becker! Please, it’s an emergency! My horse is sick. I need your help, please!”

There was no answer. Your fists collided with the door mercilessly until finally there was movement behind the creaking wood.

“Don’t you realize how late it is, girl?” the older doctor asked, opening the door. He had a disgruntled look on his face that only slightly softened when he noticed how desperate and close to tears you were.

“Please, Dr. Becker, my horse is sick. She can barely stand, won’t eat, and she’s been coughing. I’m begging you, please do an emergency house call right now for her. I don’t know where else to go.”

He sighed, rubbing his hand on his face. “I’m off duty right now, you know.”

“I know. I have money,” you said, pulling out a pouch of coins and letting him inspect them to prove their authenticity. He let out a “hmmph!” and collected his medical bag.

“Come, child. Show me the way.”

When your house came into view, it took all you had to not climb out of the cart you were riding in to run and greet your beloved companion. As Dr. Becker parked his horses, you ran over to your own. She was lying down, completely still.

“No, no, no!” you exclaimed tearfully, your hand in front of her snout to check for breathing. There was none. Dr. Becker made his way over to you, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“I’ll check to make sure she’s truly gone before I leave.”

As he got on the ground to check her pulse, your mind was reeling. What were you going to do? You barely had enough money to cover the vet visit, there was no way you could afford a whole new horse! And what about your own house calls? You used to ride your horse into the village once a month to help out your elderly customers who couldn’t make the journey to your workshop. The kind veterinarian caught your eye and shook his head.

“I’m sorry. She’s dead.”

You were too numb to cry. In a daze, you handed the doctor your pouch of coins to cover the inconvenience of coming all this way, but he would only accept a third of the full payment.

“You need the money more than I do,” he explained, eyeing your deceased horse and ramshackle house. When he said goodbye and left, you realized you truly were alone. You didn’t know what to do with your horse’s body. It was going to be another hot day tomorrow and you didn’t want her to rot in the sun. It was too late at night to do anything about it, though, so you covered her with a sheet and went to bed.

The next morning was extremely difficult for you. You had to drag your body out of bed, the stresses of last night weighing you down. After you nibbled on a small breakfast, you heard a cart coming down your dirt path.

“Dr. Becker said there was a deceased animal here to dispose of?” one of the men had asked you when you walked outside. You confirmed, pointing the team to white sheet in the pasture. They loaded her onto the cart and you whispered a final farewell to your best friend and most faithful companion. Going back inside, you looked around you, gauging what work still needed to be done. You spied Levi’s cape in the same spot you discarded it hours prior. You knew that had to be finished first since he was coming to pick it up later today. You tried to drown yourself in the work but it didn’t distract you enough. When your tears landed on his cape, it took everything inside you not to scream out in frustration. You went to the bathroom to splash water on your face, hoping it would ground you. Instead, you just took notice of your unkempt appearance. Your life had gone from normal to shambles in a matter of hours and you were at a loss of what to do. It was difficult times like these that made you wonder if you made a mistake leaving Wall Sina…

No.

You couldn’t afford to dwell on things you can’t change. You could only look forward and that’s exactly what you were going to do. Getting ahold of yourself, you reminded yourself that Captain Levi entrusted you with his cape, meaning your career, at least, wasn’t in shambles. You had a great skill set that was near impossible to replicate so at least you had that going for you. You got back to work, still worried about your future but less distraught.

Another work day over, you awaited Levi’s arrival at your door for the pick up of his belonging. When the clock struck 5pm, you expected to hear him knocking at your door, but there was nothing. You didn’t know much about the man, but you knew he was always on time. You furrowed your brows when it turned to 5:10 and there was no sign of him. Was he going to stand you up like everyone else today?

BAM BAM BAM

Whoever was at your door, it certainly wasn’t the captain. You heard bickering on the other side of the door.

“Eren! You can’t pound on a door like that, especially if it’s a lady’s house!”

“Shut up, Armin. We’re in a hurry. I don’t need Captain Levi being any madder at us for being late than he already is.”

You opened the door to reveal a trio of teens.

“Ms. L/n! We’re here to pick up Captain Levi’s cape,” Armin said, a sweet smile on his face. You were well acquainted with these kids, mostly because they were always running into battle and ending up with torn uniforms (especially Eren—what on earth could he be doing to always end up with shredded shirts?).

“I’ll get that for you right away. Please, come in.”

The kids walked into your place, seemingly scrutinizing it.

“Yes, I know it’s dirty and falling apart. Your captain already lectured me on it.”

“That’s no surprise. He’s always in a bad mood,” Eren grumbled. You gave Armin the cape and Mikasa handed you the money. It was a large sum but you couldn’t even find it within your heart to be excited.

“Thanks you guys. Want any treats while you’re here?”

Their eyes lit up. Even Mikasa seemed to have a happier expression on her face as you handed them each a small piece of pastry you had made a few days prior. As they snacked, you noticed Mikasa eyeing your embroidery hoop.

“I do embroidery too. Anything you want, I’ll do it. Personal clothes or inside of uniforms. Names, symbols, whatever. Since you kids are almost single-handedly keeping me in business with all the clothes of yours I fix, the first few personalizations are on the house.”

Mikasa looked lost in thought, like she was remembering a long lost memory or something. All of a sudden, her face turned back to her near emotionless state. The three of them gave you their thanks and were ready to leave when Armin spoke up once more.

“Ms. L/n? Where’s your horse, I brought her a small apple slice. I know how much she loves them.”

You really didn’t want to cry in front of the kids over something so silly but you were close to breaking down.

“She died last night,” you explained, letting out a shaky breath. “She was sick for a short period and died in the 20 minutes I left to get the veterinarian.”

The blonde, upon hearing the news, gave you a big hug. “I’m so sorry, I knew how much you loved her. We all did.”

“What are you going to do now? Get a new one?” questioned Eren.

“I’m not sure yet, but that’s not for you kids to worry about. Now head back before Captain Grumpy finds out you’ve been messing around here too long.” When the kids and their horses were out of view, you let out another long sigh. What were you going to do?

Levi had been swarmed with meetings, swarmed with paperwork, swarmed with people bothering the shit out of him. He was in a worse mood than usual and anybody who got in his way felt his wrath. He felt bad for snapping at people, but his head just hadn’t been in the right place the past few days. Ever since his run ins with the seamstress, she hadn’t left his mind. She was strange to him, too happy go lucky for her own good. She was careless; who walks through forests without a horse these days? She was too kind for her own good. He was also jealous of the way y/n’s job was ridiculously ordinary. Being a seamstress in these times sounded woefully mediocre compared to fighting titans. It was, admittedly, still an important job. He gave her shit for showing preference to Hange’s uniforms, but if he was telling the truth, he would’ve never noticed that she wasn’t using a sewing machine. Her work was neat, precise—traits Levi could appreciate. The thing about y/n that bothered Levi the most was how damn pretty she was. Sure, he’d been attracted to a few women here and there, but they all paled in comparison. There was something about her that was magnetic, pulling Levi in, causing him to want to know more about her. This thought made him want to puke. He couldn’t get attached to any more people, he couldn’t afford to. Levi’s heart had been smashed into too many pieces by now, too many deaths he’d had to face of people he loved. His head was in the right place, trying to convince him to ignore her and focus on his duty as a soldier, but he found himself listening to his heart more and more. Finding that sewing machine for you was a pain in the ass since they were extremely hard to find, especially in working order. He had pulled some strings to get information, eventually buying one off a villager who’d “acquired” it in the interior. Then, him taking you home was something he’d never thought he would do for some stranger, especially letting you hold him in such a way that made his breath catch in his throat and his hands go clammy. The final nail in the coffin was when his fingers disobeyed any notion of common sense, ripping the biggest hole he could manage in his cape for you to fix so you could make some more money. It was no secret he had a soft spot for animals, but there was no reason he should’ve felt as bad for you and your horse as he did. Also, your house was a total wreck and he wanted to scream at Erwin for allowing you to reside there. When he thought back about his actions, he grimaced. You were just some girl he met a few days ago. How were you making such an impact in his life already? That’s why he made Eren and his friends pick up his cape. He needed to avoid you for as long as possible, needing a clear head and heart to save humanity, not pine over a random woman. He looked over the freshly fixed cape, admiring your handiwork. He could barely make out where you had sewed it back together. Your talent was a sight to behold and he was glad his intuition was right to put his trust in you. He placed the soft cloth into a drawer to wear another time and decided he needed some tea to clear his head. When he reached the cafeteria, he overheard the trio talking about you.

“That’s so sad about Ms. L/n’s horse. I wonder how she’s going to keep working without her,” Armin had said. Levi’s eyes widened slightly. Did your horse die that quickly? That would be bad news for you, personally, and him, professionally. He and the Scouts relied on you to come in half the week to do your work in the castle. There was no way you would be walking here and back, Levi would never allow you to put yourself in danger like that. He pretended not to listen, warming water in a kettle.

“I know. I feel bad for her, but there’s no way we can use the resources to keep traveling back and forth every time we need something fixed. It would be easier if she lived here.”

“Maybe if y/n lives here, you won’t have to do uncharacteristically nice things to spend time with her.”

Levi jumped at the sound of Hange’s voice unexpectedly in his ear. “Fuck off, four eyes. You almost made me spill my tea.”

Hange just laughed while Levi rolled his eyes. He hated to admit it, but Eren and Hange both had a point. If you worked for the Survey Corps, why wouldn’t you live with them? There was plenty of room here, it wasn’t like the place was overflowing with soldiers. He took his tea to go, finding solace in the quiet of his room. If Hange and the other soldiers wanted you to live here, fine. He just didn’t want to get involved with anything surrounding you. What did he care what you did, where you lived, what you spent your time doing? And where did Hange get the idea he wanted to spend time with you? Your meetings had been coincidental and ones of convenience. Whether or not you moved in with the Scouts, it would be of no matter to Levi. Like he thought before, he didn’t need another person to care about—you would die prematurely and leave him all alone, just like everyone else did.

Chapter 4

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x you #levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader angst #levi ackerman x reader fluff #levi fluff #levi angst

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sarahjswift · 11 months

Text

A Terrible Day - Rowaelin Oneshot

I'm trying to expand my writing resume on this app, because all the wonderful creators I follow have these insanely long masterlists with links that lead to more links that lead to more links and it's everything I want to be XD

I wrote this in a frenzy of two hours, including breaks for running and to gulp down some iced tea and eat a slice of cheesecake :D

If you go to my masterlist(https://docs.google.com/document/d/1rNsQz959dwBibJ4ydmb6_0fixjSEBXBiVRKVoyd-tQ0/edit), you will see the fics I wrote for the 2023 Aelin Week. Most, if not all of my fics are in AUs but I thought I'd switch it up with a "what happened next" kind of fic, which is what I did for Aelin Week. Not saying I liked it more than my other AUs, but it was just cozy to write you know? ☺☺

If you'd like me to do more of these, let me know! It's a Oneshot for now but we'll see, I could just do short stories of their adventures inbetween my current projects!

This is the most NSFW thing I've ever written and I felt so guilty doing it - I kept glancing around like I had a bomb or something LMAO. It's not even that bad I don't think, but I COULDN'T DO IT *sobs*

How do you fanfic writers do it???

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Language, Smut

Summary: Aelin has a bad day and sweet sweet Rowan cheers her up (mostly just fluff)

Tag List <33: @backtobl4ck, @aelinchocolatelover, @renxzs, @blue-bird17, @autumnbabylon, and @luell1q

enjoy dear readers!!

Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius had had a terrible day.

Not like her usual bad days - where Fleetfoot had rubbed mud all over a new dress, or the bakery in Terrasen Square was closed (although she shuddered whenever she thought of those days) - but bad in the sense that she felt her chest constricting. Darrow hadn’t budged on the topic of Aelin’s passion project - a community garden for the citizens of Terrasen. A trivial want, yes, but it was close to Aelin’s heart.

However, as Darrow had made extremely clear at their meeting; “A community garden is a complete waste of resources. We need to focus on rebuilding Terrasen before we have the time to worry about meaningless projects such as that.”

Now Aelin was trudging down the hallway, melancholic. At least it’s the end of the week, she thought glumly. She had no more meetings, nothing to work on for the next three days.

The queen reached her private corridor. Here lay her bedroom, personal library, and office(well, one of many). Aelin often felt guilt over the luxuries that she indulged here, but she couldn't help wanting to live in this area of the castle - her parents had as well, and she could sometimes hear the pitter-patter of her feet running down the hall, her giggles as she raced her father. Remembering these moments was a happy thing, but today it just made her more depressed.

Two guards monitored this corridor - Beor and Alys. Beor was a kind, shy man, and the only time he ever talked was to rave about his wife and two young daughters. Alys was a fierce woman who had clearly been through unimaginable things, which only became more apparent from the vicious scar slashed down the side of her face. She was strong and reminded Aelin of Nesryn. Aelin liked the two guards greatly, but she pitied them occasionally when she was reminded of what…sounds they were witness to, as they were stationed outside her bedroom door during the night. The morning after her birthday, Beor could barely look her in the eye without going beet red.

Aelin nodded to them as she passed. “Majesty,” they both murmured, bowing briefly. She flashed them a quick smile, all she could muster, before retreating into her bedroom. She faced the door, locked it behind her, and burst into tears.

All the stress from the day caught up to her - Darrow, missing her parents, the strain of the crown. She slid to the floor, not even bothering to turn around as she cried, hugging herself. She prayed Alys and Beor couldn’t hear her, not as-

“Aelin?”

She froze when she heard that deep voice say her name. “Shit.” She knew who it was instantly, but turned around still to find her husband and mate, Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius. He stood there, his face full of concern for his wife, and the sight of it made Aelin sob harder.

“Hey, hey,” Rowan soothed, advancing toward her in a split second. He held her close, sitting there on the floor with her, and Aelin turned fully toward him, clutching his shirt, crying into his neck. He was so strong, so steady that Aelin felt like she’d been drowning and now she’d found a lifevest.

Rowan stroked her hair and rubbed her back simultaneously, patiently waiting as she cried it out. Finally, she scooted back, sniffling. “Oh, Gods, I’m so sorry.” Aelin couldn’t meet his eye as she wiped her cheeks, focusing on the floor. She probably looked like a mess.

“Aelin.” He tilted her face up, piercing green eyes scanning her face. She only realized now he was tense, jaw clenched, filled with a mix of concern and anger that somebody had hurt her, something only a mate could feel. “What happened?”

“I’m fine, first of all,” she sighed. She smiled as he slumped with relief, but it faded as she recounted her day. “Darrow…Darrow is still very against the garden idea. I don’t know, maybe it’s stupid. He sure thinks it is.”

“Wait, why is he against the garden?” Rowan frowned. “I love the idea.”

Aelin arched a brow. “I think you’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m not!” her mate protested. “It’s a great idea, Aelin. Darrow might not see it, but it could help those who were affected - ah, hell, let’s be frank. I think every being in the world has at least some trauma, and I really think the garden could help them. It could help them build something, trust in something.”

“Well, thank you, buzzard. That’s the idea, but it’s too silly to spend money on.” Aelin leaned back into her husband, who immediately encircled his arms around her. She ran her fingers down his muscled arms, pressing down slightly. She snickered as she felt him flex underneath her fingertips. “We need the money to be put toward the library, and just getting our bearings after the war.”

“I thought we were well off.”

“We are - our coffers run extremely deep. I don’t think we will have to worry about money ever again, thank Gods. But that’s us. Our money is different from Terrasen’s money.”

“Hmm.” Aelin could almost feel Rowan frowning, thinking of something to help her problem. The thought warmed her heart and she tilted her head up, observing him. He is so beautiful, she thought. His bronze skin was smooth, his lashes long, his bone structure immaculate. But of course, she was drawn to his eyes. It was always his pine green eyes. They would always, always be her favorite asset of his. She ran her fingers lightly over his face, tracing it to memory like she’d done hundreds of times, like she’d do many more times.

“Aelin,” he breathed. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his. He opened up to her and she kissed him deeply, threading her fingers through his hair to tug him to her. She felt his warm hands slip up her shirt and she broke the kiss, biting her lip as she watched him. Rowan leaned in and kissed down her neck. She gasped as she felt his tongue on her skin, digging her hands into his shoulders.

She kissed him roughly, their lips falling into a rhythm, and she made to unbutton her shirt. “Wait,” Rowan murmured onto her lips, holding her hands firmly in his to still them. She broke away, confused and a little hurt. As if seeing the second emotion in her eyes, he kissed her on the lips quickly - or at least, he tried to make it quick, but Aelin followed his head with her own, prolonging the kiss. As her tongue brushed his, her mate groaned before pulling away again.

“Why do you keep pulling away?” she panted, resting her forehead on his. Rowan released her hands to stroke her cheeks. She felt him breathe in her scent and smiled, knowing it comforted him as much as his did her.

“Well, for one I’m not taking you on the floor,” he started, chuckling when she smacked his arm.

It’s not like it’s never been done before, she said to him, mind-to-mind. She felt him freeze and glance up at her smirking face.

“You’re making this harder,” he grumbled.

“Good,” she snickered. He stared at her confused, before going red as he got the joke. She cackled for the first time today, standing up from the floor. She helped him get to his feet as well, laughing again as he winced and rubbed his back. Her buzzard, ever the old man.

“And two,” he glared at her, “I thought it would help you cheer up if we went to Finlas’s.”

Aelin squealed. Finlas, a kind old man, owned her favorite place to eat in Terrasen - Finlas’s. He served the most amazing dishes, not to mention their desserts. “Yes. Oh, Rowan, you’re the best!”

Rowan grinned, pleased with himself. “Well, let's go then.”

They got ready in a matter of minutes. As Rowan went to tell Alys and Beor, Aelin checked her reflection and groaned. Her face was red and puffy from crying. She splashed cold water on her face and frantically rubbed a jade green marble over her skin, something Lysandra had said would help with puffiness and bone structure. Luckily, it seemed to do the job. Dressed in the simple white shirt and black skin tight pants she’d worn all day, Aelin grabbed her bag and hurried to leave.

The mates walked out of the castle and towards the Square, hand in hand. It was a beautiful early summer evening, the sky darkening to pinks and purples, the humid air cooling to an ideal temperature. The spring flowers were giving way to green, every tree lush and bountiful. Aelin swelled with happiness as she looked around her kingdom, even more so as they reached the Square and saw people milling about, shopping and talking.

They reached Finlas’s and Rowan hurried to open the door for her. Aelin smirked as she passed. “What a gentleman,” she teased, and Rowan rolled his eyes. To their delight, Finlas himself greeted them and led them to a booth in the back. The back of the establishment was clearly meant for couples, with its dimmer lighting and flickering candles on the tables. Each seat even had a red rose placed atop its plate. As they walked by, people stared and whispered to each other.

“Enjoy your meal,” Finlas said warmly, before bowing and hurrying off to greet the next customer. Aelin settled into the cushioned booth, watching her mate as he did the same.

“What are you going to get?” Rowan asked. Aelin opened her mouth to respond before he interrupted. “Wait, no - let me guess. A medium-rare, absolutely massive steak with fried potatoes, and a fizzy drink?”

Aelin grinned. “Exactly. Great job, buzzard. Now let me guess; a curry that you will burn your tongue on like you do every single time, an iced tea and some bread?”

Rowan barked a laugh. “Exactly.”

They ordered just that, and enjoyed the meal. Aelin groaned improperly as she took her first bite of steak, sounding enough like another activity that Rowan shot her an annoyed look.

“Sometimes I can’t tell if food or me gives you more pleasure,” he hissed across the table.

“Can’t it be both?” Rowan was not pleased with that, and to Aelin’s delight her husband glared at her plate for the next ten minutes, as if it were another man who had stolen her away.

They talked of their days and their plans for the next coming weeks. Rowan was working every day on the building of the library, which was coming along speedily, most likely thanks to his Fae strength and speed. He’d even begun to help with the design aspect of the building, something Aelin wholeheartedly trusted him with. “By this time next year, you will most likely be picking out books to stock the library with,” Rowan told her. A task Aelin was most excited for, and already planning to enlist Dorian with.

Finlas brought them a huge chocolate cake free of charge. “Oh no, we couldn’t,” Aelin protested, reaching for her wallet. “It’s really to trouble at all-”

“Stop, Your Majesty,” Finlas said gently. “After what you’ve done for us - you deserve all the food in this restaurant for free.” At Aelin’s confusion, he explained; “I was a victim to a Valg raiding of my village. They took my son for their army, but…Your Majesty made sure he was safe. I have my son back now.”

“That was all Yrene, not me,” she managed to say, overcome with grief for Finlas.

Finlas shook his head. “No, Majesty. It was because of Lady Yrene, but you were the one who saved Lady Westfall, and then sent Lord Chaol to the Southern Continent to heal. Because of your kindness, you saved my son, no matter how distant the efforts were.”

Aelin couldn’t see through the blur of tears, and gave Finlas a watery smile. “Thank you.”

They walked back to the castle, the sky even darker. Aelin smiled as she looked around, surrounded by people walking through the city. Laughter filled the air, the type of laughter she hadn’t heard in a while. She pulled Rowan into an alleyway abruptly, ignoring his yelp of surprise.

“Thank you, Rowan,” she said to him. “My day was shit and now…you turned it into a happy day. You…you truly just know me so well. It still surprises me sometimes.”

Rowan smiled down at her, his face soft and open in a way she knew it only was for her. “Anything for my Fireheart.”

He bent his head and kissed her. She drew him down, opening the kiss. She felt him wrap a shield around them and glanced over, giggling when she saw him using his power to prop large slates of wood to separate their alley from the bustling town square. The noise disappeared, the only sound their ragged breaths.

“I love you,” she breathed, tipping her head back as he pulled her shirt off. His nostrils flared as he took her in, gripping her waist, rubbing his thumb over her skin.

“I love you too,” he gritted out, his eyes near black. He leaned forward and Aelin couldn’t help her loud moan as he went to work on her upper assets. She felt him huff a laugh onto her skin, and managed to pant out a; “What?”

“I made you moan louder than when you ate that steak,” he smirked, staring up at her with an expression of complete male satisfaction. She laughed, but went quiet as he claimed her mouth.

Quickly they were both only in their lower undergarments, standing in their piles of clothes. Aelin shifted impatiently, waiting for him to take her against the brick, but he was examining the wall with concern. “What are you waiting for?” she begged.

“This seems...unsanitary,” he frowned. She whined, but he still wouldn’t move - at least, until she dragged her fingers down, down his stomach…

Later, he rolled off of her, both of them panting. After the alley, they’d dressed and hurried home before he took her twice more. She should give Beor and Alys a raise, honestly.

Aelin sunk into the pillows, sleep already overtaking her. She was so glad they’d invested in this luxurious, massive bed. Rowan laid on top of her, his head on her heart, and Aelin’s arms encircled him, fingers toying with his hair. With her mate laying with her like this, the plush mattress beneath her, the soft blankets, and the feeling of happy exhaustion from the pleasure of before, she was in heaven. But just before sleep took her, her mate interrupted the peaceful silence.

“Fireheart,” he whispered into the darkness, “did you have a good day?”

Aelin smiled down at her mate, knowing the male in her arms was the male she’d worship and adore for the rest of her days. “Yes, Buzzard. Yes I did.”

#sarah j maas #throne of glass #fanfic #rowaelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #little canon fluffs #adorable #rowaelin fanfic

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queengiuliettafirstlady · 8 months

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Taste of Home

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairing: Leonardo Da Vinci x Le Comte de Saint-Germaine

Tag: Established relationship Cooking Kisses Spicy lines Fluff

Word Count 991

Author’s Note: The song is La donna è mobile from Rigoletto written by Giuseppe Verdi.

A little something to celebrate Italy with Leonardo and his lover, in a ordinary day with a normal amount of dishes prepared from our italian chef, much to the delight of the residents, with some sweet and spicy adding, I very much hope will be of your taste like this little dish I prepared myself take a seat and enjoy the feast. 🥰

Tag list

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @lordsisterxotome @aquagirl1978 @violettduchess @atelieredux @klutzyroses @randonauticrap @thewitchofbooks @princess-pray-a @itsjudesfault

You can find me on AO3 as QueenJuliet 😊

Thank you for everyone who will like, reblog, or comment please be gentle with me english is not my first language so please do not leave rude comments I apologise for eventual errors I hope you will like it 😊

It was a summer day at the mansion, the whole nation simmered with perfumes and sounds he never heard of more pleasant, except the ones of his native country, an heavy sigh escaped from his lips at the thought as he shifted around the table, filled to the brim with his skillful hands creations.

La donna è mobile

Qual piuma al vento,

Muta d'accento - e di pensiero.

Sempre un amabile,

Leggiadro viso,

In pianto o in riso, è menzognero.

The fragrant perfume of white bread still warm from the oven placed in a plate next to the baci di dama, the unmistakable aroma of gianduia melted well with the bitter scent of coffee of the tiramisu, the yellow color of the polenta stalked in contrast with the red cover of the lasagna placed next to it, on a side of the candid tablecloth stretched a feast of pasta of any kind and pizza with various filling, enough to satisfy every taste, everything rigorously handmade following the recipes he known by heart. Amidst its chaos stood the improvised cook who do not even remotely cared about any intruder immersed in the task of stirring the red tomato sauce in the pot, carefully blowing air on it before savouring its taste rolling on his tongue as he hummed in delight, his fingers from time to time threw some ingredients in one of the pan like a magician practising his magic in broad daylight, bathing everything in sight in its warm hues.

È sempre misero

Chi a lei s'affida,

Chi le confida - mal cauto il core!

Pur mai non sentesi

Felice appieno

Chi su quel seno - non liba amore!

He let out a chuckle, laughing at the irony of singing about the love for a woman, his parents words ringed still clear in his ear.

-Do not show us your face unless you have took a wife.-

-Ah if only they knew.

“What are you preparing today ?”

The arms of his husband wrapped around his torso, like the sun brushing away all his dark thoughts, smiling at the soft kiss he left on his neck

“Geez there are people watching us ya know ?” his low chuckle reverberated in his chest, a tone of defiance in his voice he loved so much hearing sing for him in the bed

“Who ?”

“Someone will surely come out of this frat house you create.”

a soft giggle escaped his lips as he pulled away, he leaned against the counter to face him as he spoke.

“I see you have given Sebastian the day off.”

“He deserved it that poor guy acting all up as he is our maid and butler at once.”

He dipped the spoon in the tomato sauce pot once more, bringing the point to his lips, it tasted like home, like the country he could not come back to if not as outsider or traveller, the one he still felt to belong, both italian and french at once even though he far preferred to call himself citizen of the world, inhabitant of the earth, belonging anywhere and nowhere at once, but when the light goes down and he had to find a shelter he knew exactly where to go, the same place he would have kept coming back to over and over again, the one and only he would have chosen in every universe in every timeline even after thousand years he would have still come back home to him, the only man who intrigued him, he felt to know everything and nothing of every time they talked, a mystery he would have gladly spend all eternity discovering, each side of him a precious treasure he collected in his heart.

Before he could do anything he moved to block him against the counter, a cat like smirk on his lips as he stared in his husband’s golden eyes sensual and alluring, leaning over to press a soft kiss on his nose, his gesture made him smile at his boldness, he never was good at masking his own desire, at least not like le Comte taught from a young age to conceal every emotion and so he took action cupping his face in his hands melting his own lips on his, lacing his own hands on his husband’s hips to steady him.

Their kiss was sweet and deep, intoxicating and exhilarating pervading each and every one of his sense leaving him speechless and astounded, butterflies swirling inside his heart, fluttering with all the love he felt for his husband, the sweetest of flavour invading his tongue spreading on his palate, it was the most delicious meal he had ever had in all his life and it was only the first course he though smiling to himself, for the even sweeter dessert that waited for them both in bed, late at night when all the others were asleep and the clock struck midnight signing the start of the time for lover.

Reluctantly they pulled away panting for air, lost in each other's gaze so much to not notice their butler peeking from the doorframe, sliding noiselessly away once he witnessed that forbidden view.

He kissed his forehead tenderly, revelling in the astoundment glimmering in his golden eyes

“I love you so my ferret.” a smile so bright like the sun itself brightened his gorgeous features

“I love my cat too.” he smiled softly to him, feeling his lips leave a little kiss on his nose making him chuckle, he really did puzzled him one minute he was bold and the other shy, but he knew that despite all their bicker and banter their love was genuine, hidden deep in their hearts only for one another.

Their love confessed countless time with each moan and groan escaping their lips, with every kiss sealing their soul together and that night would have been not exception, basking in the soft alluring gleaming in his eyes at his heartfelt words murmured tenderly on his skin as they laid on their sides looking at one another with only the aster as guardian of their love, because it did not matter how much times they kissed or made love or how many refined dishes they tasted, he always had and always would have been his favourite flavour of them all, because to him his husband tasted like home.

#ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire comte #ikevamp comte #ikemen vampire leonardo #ikevamp leonardo #my writing #ikevamp

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swamp-gothic · 6 months

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Southern Gothic

It sits low and heavy in my stomach. The dread. It gnaws at me like a lethargic mist gathering over a murky swamp.

It’s been this way for a while now.

The gators circling, hunger in their predatory eyes, ready to death-roll me at any moment.

Around me, in the darkening twilight, the cicadas sing their hymns to the smothering heat, like a preacher sermonizing to his congregation in an old, white-washed chapel. The old steeple and cross rise above the trees over yonder.

The graveyard around the old church has been swallowed by the swamp, and God’s favorite haunt will soon follow unless the rest of the wood rots away first. They promise that you will find answers to your questions about eternity here. Just know that those may be the last answers you ever find.

In the post-antebellum south, deep down where the waters threaten to flood and drown, lies the city that is sinking two inches a year and will one day go under. A place where things have changed yet still stayed the same. Here she lies, the Great Deep South, where those born on the bayou are as intricately tangled as the kudzu vines.

And the bayou, slipping into night, comes alive with a haunting restlessness that rings deep in my bones. It is growth and decay, sin and forgiveness. You need to be careful where you wade in the flood waters, what lurks below with sharp teeth and moss-stained scales, will drag you to your death.

They told us it was the promised land, of southern hospitality and comfort, but these lands were once Klan Kountry. Jim Crow laws and lynchings- a passing haint that forgetfulness can’t seem to fade. The old plantation houses, deep in disrepair, are all fallen grandeur and secrets. Their inhabitants refuse to admit the sins of their forefathers upon those they enslaved.

The scars, the infection, and the curses yelled to the howling wind, still linger.

The snakes are climbing the trees, so you don’t turn your back, bite back the bitter sting of the Bible belt against your skin.

There’s a breeze but you can’t feel it. It’s too damn hot to feel anything but the suffocation. You count your blessings anyway. Some days you’re seized by unexplainable melancholy, probably remnants of the horrors that unfolded beneath your very feet.

It could be worse.

In the South, we hurl curses during the week and repent on Sunday. And “you should join a Bible study” is the offered thought, when you’re young and ‘lost’ or don’t know which way is up. But I think God left this place long ago, and no matter how loud you pray, he ain’t gonna hear.

Around here, every home houses a bible and a loaded gun. We paint our houses bright hues and our ceilings blue. The wasps won’t nest, and the ghosts get confused. But this whole place is filled with ghosts, every citizen a taphophile, every stone a grave marker.

Our tea may be sweet, but the history hangs heavy here; bitter and sharp. Don’t make the mistake of thinking history won’t hang on to you.

These small towns with idyllic facades, that seem frozen in time, stow-away a lush terror—a deep dark history fraught with murder, slavery, and the paranormal. Sun-aged skin and southern drawls hide dark, twisting stories that slither between attraction and repulsion like grotesque contradictions.

By: C.B. Winchester

https://cbwinchesterauthor.wordpress.com/2022/11/23/southern-gothic-2/

#american gothic #southern gothic #appalachain gothic #new orleans #alligator #horror #bayou gothic #bayou country #louisiana #bayou aesthetic #swamp gothic #swamp aesthetic #deep south #the deep south #southern aesthetic

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laugtherhyena · 4 months

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Lf new year celebrations 🎊

A few months back me and my friends brainstormed what new year celebrations would be like in the lf, i can't think of a better time to post these! Happy new year everyone :]

-Every year the Forest kingdom organizes a huge parade for the new year, starting at 10pm with a message from their current ruler, after that the members of the manticore guard will march through the streets of Greenbourn as many Dawn magic users will use their powers to launch countess of flowers in the night sky.

Forest kingdom

-Its a very hyped up event and many people from different towns go to Grenbourn on new years even just to see it.

-the other towns tend to have their own parades/street parties as well, while they're not as big as the one in Greenbourn, one thing is certain; on January 1st there will be flowers and petals scattered everywhere from the celebration of the past night.

Mountain kingdom

-During the new year an enormous aurora borealis can be seen in the night sky pretty much everywhere on the Mountain kingdom, it's a once a year event no one wants to miss. During it families tend to organize their supper on tables or picnic blankets outside their houses so that they can watch the aurora.

-Since everything is outside it ends up becoming a collective banquet, with people sharing food from each other's tables, kids running around playing and bards singing through the night as couples dance happily. Some people even challenge themselves to stay awake the whole night to not miss a second of the aurora.

-The festivities are a bit different at the Cult of the frozen guardian/Hidden salvation. While its members still watch the aurora outside their houses, this is done with everyone in a circle while they collectively pray for the frozen guardian to bless the year to come. This praying section lasts several hours and anyone who disturbs the celebration will be punished accordingly the next day.

Desert kingdom

-The Desert kingdom has the most diverse amount of new year celebrations. For the Phoenixes who are monarchy and members of the high society, an enormous gala is hosted by the queens in their castle followed by a banquet of the best food you can imagine. It's a very fancy celebration where the queens share their plans for the years to come and business deals can be made.

-Meanwhile, the rest of the population has the habit of setting off fireworks in the night sky and watching them from outside their houses, many day magic users also use their abilities to make pyrotechnic shows in the sky as well. Despite the kingdom's usual mean nature, it's one night where everyone can simply sit together and enjoy the festivities.

-The spider's in Rockyashes and rebellion members who cannot go outside due to their faces being known to the public also have a different celebration. They tend to host a party on their bases where they will talk with one another, eat and dance the night away.

Ocean kingdom

-Similar to the Desert kingdom, in the Ocean a big fancy party is hosted by the ruler for them, the monarchy and high society to enjoy. This party lasts the whole night and the Ocean kingdom royal guard has to stay guarding the perimeter through the whole event to make sure everything will go perfectly. Richer Middle class families and citizens from Shining reefs tend to host their own new year parties as well.

-For the low class citizens who live in the provinces, or anyone who used to live there but managed to rise in status, the new year's celebration is not one or partying loudly on the streets. It's a simple dinner at their houses with friends and family, a night to be thankful for getting the luxury of having your family not have been taken away from you.

-Many families tend to bake sweets and hand them to other peers and friends on new year's eve who have their own celebrations to attend as a way to show that they do care for them. Parents who've recently lost their children to the takers tend to take the night to mourn them on this date, praying that they're safe on the depths.

-Sea serpents don't really celebrate the new year, most of them see it as just another night as everything always looks and feels the same in Roaring depths. At most they will get a pat on the back from their peers or caretakers for making it to another year and that's about it. Sometimes a few serpents will sneak to the surface to look at the night sky.

Shore kingdom

-On new year's eve, Shore folk from all across the kingdom gather up on the kingdom's beaches and set up towels all across the sand where they will sit with friends and family to have their supper, watching the tides as they eat. When midnight hits multiple fireworks will be launched from behind the people and will explode over the ocean, creating a beating pyrotechnic display.

-Many people tend to go out swimming on the beach or just play in the shallow water after the firework show, some will try to jump up seven waves, as they believe this helps wash out everything bad from the previous year and bring luck for the one to come.

-Finding a serpent scale on a new year's celebration is considered a sign that something great will happen to you in the upcoming year.

Sanctuary of peace + Land of no rulers

-Sanctuary guardians don't really celebrate the new years as they can't leave their duty to go join the festivities, most used to just take it as a day ro rest easy, some would write to their families if they were still alive, and others would climb up to the highest place in the sanctuary to try and watch the festivities from afar.

-There is no official celebration at the Land of no rulers, the few people who live there tend to just go be a part of the celebration of a kingdom nearby.

#these were so fun to think of I'm glad i got a cool time to post them #character in the image is Oddalia! she is like. the origin lf character so it feels fitting to put her there #like i created her and since I can't make qn oc without an universe for them to exist in i thought of the basic concept #of fantasy land and power crystals #showed to my friends and they loved it! everyone started giving ideas and ideas and before we knew it #we had spent like 2 weeks building the world already #those were some of the most fun times of my life #luminous fragments #lf #fantasy universe #fantasy world #Oddalia #hyena scribbles #hyena ramblings

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cheesemonky · 3 months

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The night lay cold, only faint sounds of cars filling the empty space. The town lay cold, the streets barren aside from the occasional citizen. But you? You lay warm, warm in his embrace and warm in his bed. Warm like you have never experienced anything other than the freezing night. And his arms hold you close to him. Your ear presses against his chest, listening closely to the steady beat of your lover's heart.

"Sometimes, when I think of you, I pray so that hell may not condemn me for my selfishness, for I fear I might never let you go." He whispers softly, lips brushing lightly against your forehead. The words he says are like a symphony and you almost taste how sweet they are.

"When I look to the sky, I wonder how there is someone that shines brighter than the sun and stars themselves." And what you say melts his heart almost more than he did yours. Sometimes you don't mind the cold, not when you're here with him.

The night which once laid cold was now filled with the pure essence of devotion. The town, no longer barren, filled slowly with lovers, family and all in between. And you? You lay warm, warm in his embrace and in his bed. Just like it was meant to be.

#silly little night time thoughts #sigh #him <3 #content?!?#<3

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 2 years

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Of Care And Comfort

I am alive! Also, it occured to me that i never actually wrote a sickfic before, so I set the basic idea, thought itď be short and sweet and then I went crazy on the keyboard. Some of the things I wrote were most definitely NOT in the idea, but they just came so naturally and after I went over it to fix typos I actually really liked it. So I hope you will too. (ps: poor meow meow)

Please, check out my other stories from this no vampires alternate universe - A Simple Case of Love

Of Care And Comfort - 3.9K

tw: illness (influenza), vomiting

It was to be a regular Sunday mass. You were sitting with Erin in your usual pew, waiting for Father Paul to arrive for the homily. Except today he was nowhere to be found. You looked at your watch for the umpteenth time today - he was twenty minutes late already. Turning around, your eyes connected with those of Warren Flynn. You questioned him with your gaze, but he merely shrugged his shoulders and continued standing with the other altarboy, Ooker, by the church entrance. You were getting rather worried for the priest and when Bev finally proclaimed that she'd check up on him, you were nearly glad she was here.

Not five minutes later, Beverly returned to the church, stood at the top of the stairs in front of the altar and spoke: "Unfortunately, we'll have to cancel mass today, Father Hill is not feeling well. I'll have to stay with him, of course, but if anyone could get a hold of Dr Gunning and bring her over to the rectory, that'd be great, thank you." You immediately looked at Erin and she could only nod, before you stood up and left at a quick pace. As your legs automatically led you towards the house of the Island's doctor, you prayed Paul's predicament wasn't anything serious or life-threatening. The citizens of Crockett Island just got used to having Father Paul as their pastor, and after Leeza Scarborough miraculously regained the feeling in her legs, he was becoming well beloved by the people. He was a fair, kind man and it'd be horrible if something happened to him.

Before you knew it, you were knocking on Sarah's door, not too roughly, but rather insistently. Sarah opened after a while, looking confused as people didn't usually come around to her place while Sunday mass was in progress. "(F/N)? Hi, how come you're not in Saint Patrick's?" she asked, looking you up and down curiously. "Sarah," you said, a little out of breath, "I'm sorry to bother you, but Father Paul is ill and needs a doctor." "Oh, gosh, give me five minutes, I'm gonna get dressed." Only then did you notice that Dr Gunning was actually wearing her dressing gown and slippers, probably having only woken up a while prior to your arrival. You nodded and waited outside.

True to her word, Sarah was dressed quickly and you both set off back towards the rectory. Upon reaching it, you knocked on the door, a bit softer this time, and waited for someone to allow you entry. "Come in," came Bev's voice and you braced yourself and opened the door. Your gaze immediately fell on Father Paul, who was sitting on the tiny sofa, elbows on his knees and face in his hands. He looked up when you and Sarah entered and, oh boy. Paul was dressed in his usual church attire, so it seemed he actually tried to go and serve mass, but one look at him made it painfully obvious he was in no state to do so. He was pale as a ghost and his skin was clammy. His hair, which was normally styled back, was a mess too. Few strands of it fell into his eyes and got stuck to his sweating forehead. Paul's eyes were red with dark circles underneath them and Bev only completed the look of a completely ill man by bringing a bucket into the living area and setting it near the priest's feet.

You stood back while Sarah got to work, asking Father Paul questions and checking his vitals. After drawing his blood, she sat back. "Well, I'm going to run some tests on this," she said waving the vial of blood , "but I'm fairly certain you got yourself a nasty flu. High temperature, nausea, headache, etcetera, etcetera. Well, I'll know for sure in a day or two. Any idea of how you could've come by it?" Father Paul, who looked very pitiful still and was wincing at every louder sound finally opened his mouth to speak: "I think I know," he croaked and eyed you momentarily, "when I was on the mainland because of the meeting with the dioceses; Reverend O'Neil was present and he did sneeze a lot. He blamed it on hay fever." Sarah stored her equipment while Paul was speaking, carefully putting the blood vial into her case so it wouldn't break. "Well, Father, you best take some ibuprofen for the fever, drink plenty of fluids and rest. I'll run some tests at home and will check up on you in a few days." She turned to leave. You offered a soft 'Get well soon' to the priest and went to leave with her, planning to go check up on him yourself soon.

You couldn't have been more shocked at what happened next. As you and Dr Gunning slowly walked away from the rectory and towards the road, Bev Keane called after you: "(F/N (L/N), please wait." You stopped in your tracks and witnessed Sarah give you a pitying look before she said her goodbyes and parted ways with you. You and Bev hadn't spoken since the (one-sided) confrontation in church weeks ago, when Father Paul told her off in your defence. Since then, both of you became rather excellent at ignoring one another's existence, save for a few cold looks. "Can I help you?" you asked neutrally. "Actually you can," said Bev with a tense smile, "It's Father Hill." That got your attention, alright. "It's rather obvious he’ll need someone to take care of him on the weekdays while he's unwell, or at the very least check up on him every now and then. I unfortunately cannot fill this role, as I am teaching the entire day. You on the other hand," she vaguely moved her hand in your direction, "don't really have an actual job, do you. That's a lot of free time you have on hand and perhaps you ought to use it to do your Christian duty. Seeing as you and Father Hill... get on well, it shouldn't be a problem for you. That is if it doesn't inconvenience your life too much."

As much as you'd like to not help Bev Keane, you very much wanted to aid Father Paul in any way you could. Therefore you swallowed your retort about writing being a real job, and that taking care of a dear friend did not any way inconvenience you, and tried to put on the most polite tone you could muster: "I'll come tomorrow then."

---

You kept your promise and the next day, once you were sure Bev had gone to school and wouldn't come back, packed some food and ingredients into a bag and set off towards the rectory. You didn't even knock and entered quietly, fully expecting Paul to be sleeping in his bedroom. You were in for a surprise. There, on that tiny sofa where two people could barely fit, laid the priest. You had no idea how on earth did he fit there considering his height, but you really had no time to ponder that question. Father Paul was curled into himself, breathing hard and releasing a small whimper every now and then, he was very obviously in pain.

You immediately dropped everything and moved up to the couch, kneeling beside it close to the man's head. You put your hand on his shoulder and gave a light squeeze. "Paul?" you asked slowly. He uncovered his face a little and you immediately noticed that he looked much worse than yesterday, his eyes were more red and unfocused and heat was radiating off his pale skin. "(F/N)," he said in a hoarse voice, "I think I'm going to-'' You knew exactly what was going to happen and were thankfully quick in your reactions. Grabbing the bucket you saw Bev put there yesterday, you shoved it next to the sofa and quickly pulled Paul's head over it. The poor man proceeded to promptly empty his stomach into it. You caressed his back and head, and made gentle shushing noises, comforting him throughout his ordeal.

A few minutes later there was only dry-heaving coming from Father Paul, and then it all stopped. You carefully rolled him on his side and, after making sure he wouldn't be sick again, went to empty the bucket and bring a wet flannel, a glass of water and some medication to help with the nausea and fever Sarah gave you after you told her you’d be taking care of Paul. "Do you think you can sit?" you asked once you came back with all the items. Father Paul made a non-committal groan. You set the bucket back next to the sofa, just to be sure, and put everything else on a table. "Here, let me help," very, very slowly you helped Paul into a sitting position. You took the flannel and started dabbing him with it, his forehead, his cheeks, his neck, finally wiping his lips with it. He barely reacted to the cool cloth, his eyes were glossed over and not really looking at anything. "You're wearing the clothes from yesterday," you observed, speaking softly, aware he probably wasn't listening to you, "we should get you into a set of pyjamas, get you comfortable in your bed. This crappy old thing will only make your back ache too." ‘Did Bev just leave him here like this?’

Well, getting him to bed was easier said than done. Despite his lean frame, Father Paul was rather heavy and he leaned his entire weight into you as you helped him stand. The height difference didn’t make it easy for you either. You had to half drag, half carry him to his bedroom, all the while holding the bucket in your left hand in case the priest was about to be sick again. You didn't even know how you did it, but in the end you really did manage to bring him to his bedroom. Sometime later, you sat Paul against the headboard of his bed, content to just leave him there for a while while you fetched everything else you deemed important into the room. Rinsing the flannel, you once again wiped down his sweaty brow and then put the cold cloth on his heated neck. This time, there was a reaction. Father Paul sighed with relief and closed his eyes and you saw his muscles untensing a little. Now came the most difficult part.

You searched the bedroom for some pyjamas - the priest would hardly be comfortable in his trousers and clerical shirt with collar. You finally picked a plain short sleeved t-shirt and sleeping shorts, all the while preparing yourself. If you claimed you never imagined taking off Father Paul's clothes, you'd be lying through your teeth, but this was definitely NOT the way you wanted it to go. Still, you couldn't just leave him in his current clothes, as they were completely soaked with his sweat and sticking to his skin. You took a deep breath and got to work. Almost clinically, you unbuttoned Paul's shirt piece by piece, until you could slip it from his shoulders and onto the bed. Taking the cloth again, you dabbed at his collarbone and chest and under his arms. He was in no shape to take a shower and it was better than nothing. It was actually much easier than you thought it would be - tender feelings or not, you were here most importantly as a friend helping a friend in need. After you were done with washing him at least a little, you helped Paul into the t-shirt. To save you both the embarrassment, you made quick work of his trousers, cladding him in the shorts hurriedly. However, it seemed Paul was quite out of it again and seemed to barely take notice that he had just been completely undressed and re-dressed by you.

"Hey," you spoke and patted his cheek softly to get his attention. He turned his bleary eyes at you. "I'm going to need you to take your meds and drink some water, ok? Can you do that for me?" Paul thought for a moment and then nodded. You ever so carefully put the pill against his lips and he took it in. Then you helped him wash it down with water, instructing him to take small sips and ready to reach for the bucket any time. It ironically reminded you of seeing people accepting communion from him. To your delight, he actually managed to keep the medicine and small amount of fluid down. "Listen," you got his attention again, "I'm going to help you lie down now." You did just so and soon he was on his right side again, facing the door to the living room. You moved the bucket close to him again and made to go to the kitchen. A large but severely weakened hand suddenly enveloped your wrist and tried to stop you. You turned around to see Paul looking at you desperately. Sighing, you kneeled next to the bed, took the hand that reached out and put it to his chest, holding it within your own: "Hey, don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. I'll just be in the next room." Paul seemed hesitant. "I'm not leaving you. Promise. If you need me, just call, I'll be right back. But please, try to get some sleep now, ok? Can you try? Please, for me?" You were caressing his cheek with your free hand without realising it, but it seemed Paul was aware of it, for he closed his eyes and leaned into it. After a while, you released his hand and moved away, no protest coming now as the priest really did doze off.

You managed to quickly locate the bag you brought with you and immediately set to work. Everyone knew that the best food you could eat when you’re ill is hot rich chicken soup. You had no idea what the science behind it was, but there was never a time when you wouldn't feel better after eating a bowl of it; were you fighting a flu, a cold, a nasty break-up or a massive hangover. It was getting dark once you were done and so you decided to check up on Father Paul before going home. He was still in his bed, sleeping. Turning on a lamp, you gave him a quick look over - some colour returned to his face and when you put your hand on his forehead, you could feel the fever has climbed down slightly. It was not gone, however, and it was time for another dose of the meds. Once again reaching for Paul's shoulder and squeezing it, you whispered his name into his ear. He stirred and then opened his eyes, looking at you. He seemed way more there than in the morning and looked at you with slight confusion at finding you here. "Hey," you said, still whispering, "You've been sleeping for some time. Are you still tired?" He blinked once, twice, then: "Yeah..." "I figured. Don't worry, I won't keep you awake, but you need to take your meds and some more water. Then I'll let you sleep again, okay?" This time it was much easier, as Paul was much more responsive and actually almost managed to sit up on his own. He also drank more water now.

For a while, he just sat leaning against the headboard with closed eyes, breathing slowly. "Are you ready to lie back down now?" you asked softly and he hummed in agreement, settling upon his side yet again. "Are you going to stay?" asked Father Paul as you were reaching to turn off the lamp. You originally planned to go home for the night, but hearing his hoarse voice and then looking into his sad puppy eyes wouldn't allow you to do so with a clean conscience. "Yes. Of course I'm going to stay," you said and stroked a single finger along his jaw, "I'll be in the living room, whatever you need. Goodnight, Paul."

---

You sat on the sofa in the rectory, after wolfing down one bowl of the soup you made - you brought no food for yourself, since you didn't know you'd be spending the night. No matter, though, you made enough soup to last for some time and one bowl wouldn't make a difference at all. You half expected Bev to show up and check up on Father Paul, maybe criticise that you're not taking care of him well enough, or complain that your soup stinks or something. However, it was nearing ten o'clock and she was nowhere to be seen, so after checking up on the sleeping Paul one last time, you made yourself comfortable on the sofa. Or, well, you tried to. How on earth did you manage to fall asleep on this hellish thing before was beyond you... Not really, you knew that the only reason you'd fallen asleep on this couch was the man who now slept in the next room, plagued by fever. You really were doing your best, but you still wished you could do more. The state you found the poor man in this morning was honestly terrifying. He did look better in the evening, but he truly should've drank more of the water. You had to get an actual meal into him in the morning if possible, or else he could get worse again.

You didn't notice falling asleep until you woke up in the morning. It was still fairly early, as the sun wasn’t done climbing above the horizon and you immediately registered what had woken you. There was a sound from inside the house, somewhere behind you and as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes you realised it was the sound of running water. You got up from the sofa, wincing as your muscles protested. You probably would have been better off sleeping on the floor, you thought bitterly as you moved towards the bedroom. You leaned against the doorframe and gazed into the dim room - the bed was empty and, delightfully, so was the bucket. The door to the bathroom was closed and you could now clearly identify the sink faucet running. A short while later, the door opened and out came Father Paul, his legs slightly shaky, but carrying his weight.

He just leaned against a cabinet for support when he noticed you. "Hello," he murmured, "you... You actually stayed?" His voice sounded slightly better and he was obviously aware now. The prolonged standing seemed to tire him though, so you walked over to him to help him back into bed: "Of course I stayed. I promised you I would, didn't I?" When you sat him down Father Paul smiled at you. His smile was nowhere near as radiant as it usually is, but it was just as soft. He definitely looked better than yesterday, his cheeks had some pink in them now and there was a spark in his eye where yesterday had only been dull mist. You sat down right next to him, unbothered by the close proximity for once and touched his forehead with the back of your hand. Satisfied with the temperature dropping a bit again, you let your hand fall. "You hungry?" you asked after a moment. "Starving," replied the priest quietly. You sat up again and made your way to the kitchen, speaking up a bit so he heard you: "That's good. You probably shouldn't eat too much at once, so your stomach doesn't get upset again, but it's important for you to eat something, or the medication itself could make you sick."

You heated a smaller portion of the soup on a stove and put it in a bowl onto a tray to bring into Paul's bedroom. Paul ate slowly, as you advised him, but seemed like he wanted to shovel the food into his mouth after the first spoonful hit his tongue. Which you found greatly flattering of course. After he was done, you supplied him with another glass of water which he emptied soon, small sip after sip, washing down another pill in the process. You then remained sitting in his bed, talking and while Paul's spirits seemed high, you could see the exhaustion setting in quickly. "Forgive me," he said at one point, suddenly sounding sad. You looked at him confused: "What for?" Paul rubbed his eyes with his hand and sighed. "I'm sorry you had to see me like.. that. That you have to take care of me. I feel so stupid, I kept you here all night because of a flu. I didn't want to be a burden," he said at last, voice hoarse again. He wouldn't look at you and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around him and put his head to rest on your shoulder, holding him tight. "Don't be silly," you said, gentle yet firm, "don't say silly things like that. You're not stupid, and you're not a burden, and you don't apologise when you're ill. I'm here, because I want to be here and I'm taking care of you, because I want you to get well again. I really care about you, you know."

Father Paul was returning your embrace softly, forehead pressed into the crook of your neck. You could gradually feel his arms faltering in their hold and so you let him out of your arms and smiled at him: "I mean that. Don't you talk like that again. And don't think like that either, please. Promise?" The priest gave you a smile in return and nodded. You excused yourself to clean up the bowl and move the rest of the soup into the fridge and made him lean against the headboard again. After you were done, you snuck a peek into his room to find him asleep again. You silently walked over to the man with a smile and carefully brushed the hair that fell into his forehead to the side, letting your hand linger for just a moment. When he subconsciously leaned into your touch again, you let your fingers slowly comb through his silky raven locks, mindful not to wake him. As he slept, his face got so calm and relaxed, even more open than it normally was. He was beautiful, in body and in spirit. You enjoyed the feeling for as long as you could before pulling your hand away. He made an unhappy little sound but remained asleep. Slipping out of the bedroom you collected your bag. You really needed to take a shower at home and, seeing as you would probably be staying in the rectory until you nursed the priest back to health, you had to grab some necessities. Sleeping bag, for one, no way you were going to spend one more night on that godawful sofa. After double checking that you had everything, you entered the bedroom one more time. A minute or two passed. Then you quietly approached the bed again and leaned in, pressing your lips to Father Paul's forehead, right above his expressive eyebrows.

---

Father Paul woke, feeling much better than he did two days ago. Slightly faint still, but since he was no longer bent over the godforsaken bucket, he considered it a win. The rectory was silent and he looked around for any sign of (F/N). What he found was a piece of folded paper on his nightstand. He slowly took a hold of it. "I’ll be back soon, x (F/N)" it read and the priest smiled into the page. He laid down onto his back and looked up into the ceiling, as if there was a night sky above him. And on his forehead, there was a phantom of a kiss.

Hope you liked it. As always, you can check this story on AO3. I’m dying for feedback c: Looong Author’s note bellow.

---

Author’s note - Beverly isn’t exactly fond of Father Paul in this universe (to the point of leaving him suffer on the sofa) and I will explain why: I think in the canon, Bev wasn’t too ‘Keane’ on Father Paul until she realised it was Monsignor Pruitt. After experiencing no consequences for what she did to Pike, maybe she even saw it fit to get rid of the new priest (cue the school closet poison scene). She started to suspect something after seeing the photo on the wall, of course and probably thought like: either - he’s not going to die because he’s monsignor pruitt and he’s young again and that’s sus enough to not die, or - he’s going to die, but it’ll be okay, cause everyone knew he had been sick for a while. And when she realised Paul WAS Pruitt, she started to be ultra ‘caring’ cause that’s how she used to manipulate pruitt before too and it worked. SO while she doesn’t attempt to poison him in this universe, she simply doesn’t care for him, hence just leaving him in pain on the sofa and not checking up on him was no biggie for her.

#midnight mass #midnight mass fanfiction #reader insert #father paul hill x reader #father paul x reader #fanfiction #sickfic #hurt/comfort #father paul #father paul hill #Beverly keane #Sarah gunning

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whispers-soundtrack-project · 2 years

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Songs For The Spooky Season

Playlist Part One

With Halloween just about a week away, I figured it was high time to break out the Spooky Music!

Link to the Spotify Playlist is at the bottom of the post

Man Or A Monster (Sam Tinnesz, ft. Zayde Wolf)

The lines are blurred, you keep rubbing your eyes * The tables turn, now it's time to survive

Silent Lucidity (Queensryche)

Living twice at once you learn * You're safe from pain in the dream domain * A soul set free to fly

It's A Sin (Hidden Citizens)

At school they taught me how to be * So pure in thought and word and deed * They didn't quite succeed

Eye Of The Zombie (John Fogerty)

Shadows on the mountain, and the night begins to fall * Gather up the children, 'fore the darkness takes us all

Something Wicked This Way Comes (James Warburton & Diana Haunts)

Fall down to your knees * Pray for sweet salvation * As the gloaming slowly creeps * Comes while you are sleeping

Love Song For A Vampire (Annie Lennox)

Once I had the rarest rose * That ever deigned to bloom * Cruel winter chilled the bud * And stole my flower too soon

The River (Blues Saraceno)

Evil comes if you call my name * The wicked, they shall rise * The river sand's gonna wash me clean * The river don't run dry

Meet Me In The Woods (Lord Huron)

Follow me into the endless night * I can bring your fears to life * Show me yours and I'll show you mine * Meet me in the woods tonight

Ghost (Kate Rusby)

By the moon * There, your pale lips, they haunt me * By the moon * In your tender arms, they dance me * By the moon * They can hear you call

Don't Pay The Ferryman (Chris de Burgh)

And then the lightning flashed, and the thunder roared, * And people calling out his name, * And dancing bones that jabbered and a-moaned * On the water

#halloween #halloween music #spooky #spooky season #scary #halloween playlist #halloween songs #holidays #playlist #Spotify

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poleaxewife · 1 year

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As I stumble around my room late in the evening after spending all day providing emotional support and a shoulder to cry on to a dear and personal friend of find my thoughts and drawn to my identity.

Who am I? Why am I like this? Why do I have the hang-ups that I do? Why do I have the things that I'm comfortable with that I do?

I think about things that I shouldn't in ways that make me feel strange.. I compare myself to others in my communities. Others like me. I find companionship at solidarity in those who have experienced things that I have. And at the same time I feel a terrible sense of disconnect. Of otherness. Of not belonging. Sometimes I fear I don't belong anywhere. Not because of lack of feeling nor lack of trying of course. I feel like a girl I try to be one. When I feel like one I feel happy when I don't I feel sad. I know what I am deep down inside I'm a girl and I love that. But I'm bad at it and I'm new to it and I've become surrounded by people who are good at it and aren't new to it. I find myself comparing and contrasting between me and them between us and them. I hear them talk I listen to their sweet and musical voices and I wish so desperately that I could be like them. Now I lay here in the depths of the night is the room slowly spins around me and I consider what tomorrow will bring. The sensation fills me with trepidation with joy And terrible terrible Loneliness.

I suspect in the coming days and maybe the coming weeks there will be great changes in my life. I pray that they are good warm tidings bringing joy. But still I fear that the things I dread that follow me will rear their heads. I fear that an invisible edit that I cannot understand or explain is that to get me. I don't know why I don't know who but still I fear it. Listen nebula's contact of something that I don't know and can't control that wants nothing more than to destroy me. My paranoia seeps into everything I do without even thinking. I can't even go to the bathroom without feeling the paranoia. I deliberately tilt my phone off and away from me so I know I will be out of reach of the camera and still be able to see my phone to scroll through YouTube shorts the 10,000th time. It's still unperfectly content to sleep with a wire tap in my room thank you Google. And still I am happy enough to leave my location on despite it being unnecessary thank you Samsung. It is a paradox that I live with everyday why do I not fear that my phone is wire tapped? And why do I fear that the ones that I love and trust most or conspiring against me? Why? For what purpose? Every every day and every night I am consumed by these terrible thoughts and awful anxieties that never go away. I know that they are logical I know they are mad. But still I fear that they are not I fear that I am on to something. And then the others in my mind protect me from things that aren't there. And the others in my mind become more and more different every single day. And sometimes I fear that the others in my mind will assume me and I won't exist any longer And the others in my mind feel the same exact thing and I still Threatened to inflict oblivion Upon them. I push them down I fight them back I keep them away like barbarians at a gate. They're not perbarians they are just as much citizens of this body as I am. And still and still still still every day I am consumed by fear. Every day I ostracize myself inflict hurt as I can to myself. I don't use knives I don't use fire sometimes I pull my hair but most of the time words will suffice. I have become something of an expert at making myself Miserable. I don't even know why I'm writing all of this down. I don't know who this is for maybe it's not for anybody. I don't even know if this is for me or for Vicky or for Mako or for Char or for whoever else is hiding up here. That's the real Kicker. I don't even know if I have a complete list of personalities. There are gaps and I don't know why. My memory has never been great it's a side effect of being depressed it's also a side effect of being autistic and having a strong pot habit. It could be any number of things worst case scenario I have one more personality or 2 or maybe more. And the thought of that drives me sane with worry.

Who are you I scream into the void who am II scbeam I beg for response and I know that even if I got it I wouldn't remember it. I am something so very small part of something so very large another days it fills me with awe and wonder do you know I exist as an infantastically small speck and an unbelievably massive universe but on nights like this where the air is clear and my thoughts weigh heavily it scares me so deeply I can't even breathe.

#cassie speaks #vent tag #did vent #gender vent #being a t4t lesbian with DID is maddening #speech to text

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ziracona · 2 years

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The thing about Cosmos in the Lostbelt is that the reason Lostbelt 1 was so good, and every Lostbelt since 1 has fallen so short is really simple. It’s that Higashide looked at the setup and went, “Oh okay. I get this. I write tragedies. I understand what this means” (and he also doesn’t have the ethics of used diaper). LB1 went “the tragedy is that, the conflict is, the story, the core is, that instigators aside for the moment, everyone else living inside a Lostbelt did nothing wrong, and neither did the original timeline. They’re just regular people. But against their say or input, they are now caught in a story where only one world, one timeline, can exist, and any timeline existing means the death of the others. There’s no going back. And it’s not about who deserves to live; they all do. It’s about the tragedy that they all can’t. You aren’t evil for trying to save your own timeline, and the natives of each Lostbelt aren’t evil for fighting for theirs. It’s just sad. And you all have to fight for the people who can’t, and pray you win, while they pray they win, and any victory will be one you or whoever wins can never get over, but that’s the way it is now. It’s a tragedy. It’s not a story about heroes and self righteousness, it’s about perseverance and love and inevitability and loss. And assigning meaning to loss.

And every Lostbelt since has been like “Uhhhhhh what’s the conflict?? We simultaneously have to like, have enough to object to to be the good guys, but enough good the opponent can monologue about how they’re the good guy who deserves to win? We need to argue original earth deserves to be gone because some people were bad?? To make conflict right? The conflict is who is more righteous, right? It’s about who deserves to live, right?? It’s The Universe’s Next Top Timeline, right? I only understand really repetitive superhero media it’s all I know.” So we end up with like, the game and characters trying to say ‘the absolute cultural genocide and colonization and fascism is great because uhhh there aren’t wars now that everyone is assimilated and rebellions all get killed, which makes it superior to real life where the world isn’t perfect.’ Or ‘this place just lost its despot and hasn’t had a war in these last 3 minutes ergo these humans won’t be normal like all humans are and fall into conflict again and this will be a peaceful paradise how dare you challenge it?’ Or ‘this place where humans get treated like livestock is actually soooo soft and sweet bc they’re raised to like being treated this way : )” and it makes it unbelievably enraging to play. Like, LB1 is the only one so far even to narratively place rebels in the world as the goodguys instead of arguing some fascist regime is great (not counting LB4 rebels bc they really skimmed the issues too much to count in either direction).

Anyway it’s gross but it’s also so fucking depressing, because Lostbelt 1 was SO good, and it had such a fascinating premise, and was so good, but no writer since seems to even realize what made it noteworthy. Like, from the start you got native inhabitants POV with Patxi, and repeatedly the entire story did, and their world and the citizens mattered, and ever since you barely get a blip of inhabitants, the big losers and people who actually matter and have things at stake, and only give time to heroic spirits that usually are awful bastards like Quin Shi Huang and get to escape anyway if the Lb ends, for just sooo much super fight drama™️, or Crypter drama. Like they just throw you A Child™️ you know nothing about except they’re CuTe so you feel soooo guilty. But they don’t even work to make them a person with a character. Like LB2 and 4s little girls and LB3s little boy could easily be the same person. And it makes me so upset and mad we could have had it all but the writers suck and I want to beat them up with my fists.

#cosmos in the lostbelt #fate go #fate grand order #cosmos in the lostbelt spoilers #but nobody else knows ethics or how to write tragedy. all they know is self righteous posturing Stan Imperialism and Suck

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shanniiine · 1 year

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flowery love

the first short story to introduce the greater hoccosin region.

genre: romantic fiction

word count: 7058

you can also find it on my wattpad and on my writing portfolio

“Violet,” her father smiled. “You’re going to do amazing things with this little shop–for this, I pray.”

“Thank you, father, I couldn’t have gotten here without you” the young woman beamed, grabbing her father, and bringing him into a hug. “I just hope that the locals will accept me despite who I am.”

“This town is lucky to have you,” he said into her shoulder. “Never forget that.”

~ ✿ ✿ ✿ ~

Violet’s Violets opened its doors well over fifty years ago and in that time, it had cemented itself as one of the societal foundations of Hoccosin, the small town that was fortunate enough to be the home of such a cozy little flower shop. Over the years, as new people moved to town and became acquainted with all the intricacies of the small town that seemed like it was in a world separate unto its own, it became a commonplace rite of passage that in order to become a true Hoccosin citizen–native or not, one must purchase a bouquet of flowers from the double-V and gift it to another resident. Then, the gifter would be quietly welcomed as a genuine Hoccosinian, and they would be permitted to call this quaint, little town their true home.

The humble shop was practically smack dab in the center of Verona Avenue, the town’s main street, and was known to be welcoming and homey beyond what words could describe. All sorts of hydrangeas, orchids, roses, daffodils, daisies, and a dozen other types of flowers spilled out the door and lined the shopfront, all in pristine shape and in the most admirable sorts of pots. Anytime an unsuspecting pedestrian would pass by, they would feel themself beckoned inside by the sweet aromas and beautiful blossoms, unable to resist the temptation to enter the cozy shop. Some might joke that it was witchcraft or sorcery, but any long-time resident could tell you that it was all-natural and that Violet really was just that good at tending to her flowers. She cared for them as if they were her children–which she had none of her own unless you counted the fluffy white cat that lazed around her shop or the local teens from the nearby boarding school who took such a liking to her quiet and kind demeanor, that they effectively made the double-V their after-school hangout spot.

There was a large, square wooden table in front of the front windows, which she used as a workbench to pot and re-pot flowers, but when it wasn’t coated in soil and plant trimmings, those teens could sit around it and do homework, or just chat–which happened to be what they ended up doing most of the time. Ivy, sword ferns, and other vined plants resided in hanging pots that lined the sides of the shop, while the walls were fitted with wooden shelves that proudly displayed plants for sale. Violet’s register was in the back of the shop, from there she could overlook her works of art, customers coming in to browse or find a quiet spot to relax, and she relished in all of it–for this, owning a successful business, had been her childhood dream, and she was pulling it off–extremely well, in fact.

“Hello?” an older woman feigned, peeking her head through the glass front door. “Could I ask for some help if it wouldn’t be too much of a bother?”

The woman had a curly grey bob haircut and wore browline oval-shaped glasses. Her face was covered in wrinkles, especially around the corners of her mouth and eyes–smile lines. Her eyes were a soft shade of green and her nose was as small as a button. She wore a cream blouse beneath a sage green trenchcoat and a long, pastel pink skirt that cut off just before her black loafers.

Violet jumped at the sound of the bell ringing and made her way to meet the woman who looked to be somewhat near her in age. “‘Course!” she declared with a smile, meeting her by the doorway. “And what would be the occasion?”

“For a loss...”

“Oh,” Violet’s smile dropped. “I’m terribly sorry that this has become of you, may I offer you a hug?”

The woman didn’t even respond, instead, she took the shopkeeper into an embrace. “This has been a long time coming,” she muttered into Violet’s shoulder. “But I’d be a damned fool if I turned down a hug.”

“Oh-ho-ho,” Violet laughed a little, draping her arms around the stranger and completing the hug. “A woman who knows what she wants, I love it.”

“Thank you for your kindness, stranger,” she croaked, pulling away, a tiny tear forming the corner of her eye. “Now,” she collected herself. “Where might I have to go off to in this delightful shop to get my hands on a bouquet of chamomile flowers?”

“Chamomile…” an interesting flower choice for mourning, she thought to herself, but who am I to judge!

“Well, that will be just right this way!” Violet chirped, heading to the far wall that was practically overflowing with all the different types of flowers on display.

“Oh,” the lady’s voice dropped. “Well, those are them, I–I suppose I’ll be ready to go in no time.”

Violet’s heart sank at the sight of this woman, she wanted to hug her again, to soothe her worries and remind her that whoever she lost lived a long life–well she couldn’t guarantee that, then a life full of love–or that either, drats! Well then, she could always count on ol’ reliable: this woman loved her late friend, spouse, child, second cousin, whomever it was that she so tragically lost–and that was enough in itself.

As Violet opened her mouth to offer some more words of condolences, the woman piped up.

“I know we just met, but I don’t have any friends or family in town so I’m going to the resting place all by my lonesome, but if it’s no skin off your back, would you consider accompanying me as I say goodbye?”

“Why–”

“Oh, what am I saying–I haven't even introduced myself; my name is Theodosia, my friends call me Theo–although I suppose no one’s really called me that in years, at any rate, if it’s not an intrusion–”

“Of course, I’ll accompany you, I’d be honored to. Anyone who gives a hug as good as that deserves some compassion,” Violet laughed. “I’m Violet, by the way, as the store’s name implies.”

“Oh, wondrous day, wondrous day! Thank you, Violet, you've made a friend in me today!”

Any sight of tears in Theo’s eyes was long gone, instead, the sadness had been replaced by a jubilant radiance–it was almost blinding.

“I can close up shop early today and we can make our journey to the final resting place in a jiffy,” Violet declared.

The teens gathered around the wooden table had been eavesdropping on the conversation–it was a rare sight to see Violet so invested in a customer. The oldest of the kids nodded to their friends after Violet’s declaration, signaling that it was time for them to scram. Books were closed and papers shoved into backpacks, and just like that, Violet and Theo were left standing all by themselves in the colorful store. “Well that was much easier to get those teens out than I thought it was going to be,” Theo said in genuine surprise.

“Oh them? They love me!” Violet half-joked. “But yes, they’re a good bunch, it’s always a treat to have them in here…” her voice trailed off. “At any rate!” Violet perked back up to attention. “Let’s get this show on the road! Let me just grab my coat.” “Oh but, I need to pay for the flowers–”

“No, you don’t! The manager says they’re on the house, and what she says goes, so I wouldn’t want to argue with her,” Violet smiled as she returned with her black, fluffy coat in hand.

“Oh no, I insist, please let me pay–” “Oh no, I insist. C’mon! Let’s skedaddle before someone else comes in with another story about a lost loved one and tries to steal me away from you.”

Theo shuffled her feet back and forth, fiddling with a single, white petal of the flowers she was now the declared owner of, “Well, I–”

Violet turned to face her new friend and met her gaze with a cockeyed smile. Just say okay, she mouthed. “Hmm, okay. Okay! Let’s go!” “That’s the spirit!” Violet cheered. “Lily, we’ll be back in a bit, you’re in charge!”

A white cat emerged from underneath the register in the back of the store, stretched her front legs, let out a massive yawn, and flopped on her side on the stone floor.

“Thank you for the flowers, Lily!” Theo said.

Violet cocked an eyebrow at Theo.

“Well, you said she’s in charge, I assume she must be the manager.”

Violet smiled at the humorous notion, “We should get out of her hair before she demands her bi-hourly cuddles.”

Violet reached for Theo’s empty hand as the pair chuckled, Theo accepted her grasp, and they were off to the races like two horses bred to run, Violet’s shoulder-length white hair bobbing up and down. Violet rushed out the front door with Theo in tow, both laughing from the sudden rush of adrenaline. Violet flowed through the sequence of motions to lock the front door as soon as they stepped outside into the chilly, late-winter air. Violet brushed her hands down her denim overalls and turned to her new friend. “Alright,” Violet turned to grab Theo’s hand again. “This time, you’re leading; where to?”

~ ✿ ✿ ✿ ~

Violet followed Theo along the sidewalks of Hoccosin, heading toward the western outskirts of town–the way Theo double-guessed every turn, constantly performing double-takes at every street sign, she definitely wasn’t a native, that much Violet could clearly tell.

“If my asking isn’t an intrusion,” Violet spoke up. “Why is it that you’re performing the burial here?”

“I grew up in Drexwood City, but ever since I was but a young girl, I’ve yearned to live in a small town. Then, after the loss, I decided that it was time for a fresh start and that this would be the perfect place to achieve just that.”

“I’m from Drexwood, too,” Violet smiled.

“How did you end up here?” Theo asked.

“Well, I was a boarding student at The Hoccosin Academy for Young Emerging Scholars–but everyone around here calls it THAYES, just on the outskirts of town,” Violet said, pointing toward a castle-esque building on the north side of town. “Anyhow, I was a boarding student there from the time I was eleven to seventeen, and I fell in love with the cozy little town, so once I had saved up enough money to support myself, I moved back here when I was just a few years over twenty and opened up the flower shop.”

“Oh, what a beautiful little story,” Theo mused.

Violet smiled to herself, thinking back to her younger years. In the time that Violet had lived in Hoccosin, she had familiarized herself with newcomers, the long-time residents, and every type in between. When someone would first move here, they tended to follow one of two types: the bluff, which faked exuberant confidence; and the tentative, the type that embodied the likes of a young child, lost in a grocery store, searching for a parent to no avail. Both types of newcomers would eventually fall into a sort of groove, eventually becoming comfortable enough to declare ignorance or to ask for help. It was always a pleasant sight to witness someone grow comfortable with the uncomfortableness that comes with moving somewhere new. When Violet moved back to Hoccosin during her early adult years, she wasn’t so lucky as to receive a helping hand from a local. The spirit of Hoccosin had greatly shifted in recent decades; when Violet first opened her shop, she was viewed as a spinster–shameful that she wasn’t married and instead opening a business on her own. But, as the social tides shifted, her single-ness came to be viewed in more of a positive light, eventually even being admired by some of the townsfolk.

Violet was lost in thought, thinking back on all the people she had had the pleasure of meeting during her life, as the pair strolled up to a poplar tree that looked as if it could tell stories of days long forgotten if one took the time to sit and listen. She snapped back to attention, and with a quick glance over her shoulder, noticed that they had just taken a turn off Huckleberry Lane and had found themselves in the Avon Cemetery.

“Here we are…he’s buried just over yonder,” Theo croaked.

‘He,’ Violet promptly noted the gender of the deceased, nodding to herself.

Violet took note of how Theo’s brisk pace slowed as they neared the gravesite. Violet hastened her speed for just a moment to catch up to her walking partner, she met her gaze and offered a supporting smile. Theo smiled back and reached for Violet’s hand, taking it into her own soft grasp.

“Here,” Theo pointed to a small tombstone on the outskirts of the cemetery that was only a few steps in front of them.

Violet released her grip on Theo’s hand to move closer to the headstone.

Chamomile, it read, “to my longest-standing companion; Je ta’aime”

“And who was Chamomile to you-?” Violet started to ask.

“He was my cat. The little bugger held on to life for some twenty-odd years, I hardly know what it’s like to live without putting someone else’s needs before my own anymore.”

Theo crouched down, her long, pastel pink skirt brushing against the grass and dirt. She mumbled something of a prayer to herself and then neatly placed the flowers by the gravestone.

“Thank you for being here with me,” a few tears streamed down her petite, wrinkled face.

“No, thank you for allowing me to be here,” Violet grabbed her new friend into another hug. “Thank you.”

“You’re–you’re welcome,” she sniffled.

~ ✿ ✿ ✿ ~

The following days were something of a blur.

Theo was in the process of securing an apartment in town, in the meanwhile, she was lodging at the Poshley Inn and spending the vast majority of her days in the double-V, assisting Vy–she had come to call her that, with whatever duties Vy asked of her. Sweeping, mopping, trimming, vacuuming, watering plants–although Vy quickly came to realize that Theo was a culprit of over-watering, so she found herself peeking over her shoulder, directing her as to when to start and stop.

“I’ll pay you a generous wage,” Violet offered the first night. “With all that you’re doing, you deserve a sizable one.” “Oh, pish,” Theo retorted. “I’ve long retired; this is an extracurricular and I wouldn’t be putting in the effort if I didn’t want to.”

That came to be a normal conversation between them for the first couple of evenings until Vy rolled over and chose to take Theo’s remarks at face value–something she did not tend to do.

Vy found herself mesmerized by the energy that Theo created by being in the shop with her. Her welcoming nature matched that of Vy’s, and her captivating presence brought a new type of intimacy to the shop; they quickly discovered that they were a wonderfully well-suited pair–in the work environment.

After Violet unlocked the front doors every day, Theo wasn’t long after her. She followed the same sequence of actions each time she entered the shop; skipping toward Vy’s cat, Lily, and rubbing her belly, cooing over her, decreeing that she must be the best cat in the whole wide world!

“Today’s the day, right?” Violet asked.

“Oh, well I suppose it is!” Theo said, popping her head up to look away from the cat and into Violet’s blue eyes.

“Alright, the first appointment is at noon, so we can close up for an extra-long lunch a little before then,” Violet said.

“Sounds perfect! Just perfect! I can’t wait to be able to call myself a Hoccosinian!”

“Well, to be able to really do that–” Violet was cut off by a young man, probably somewhere in his early twenties, sweating profusely, wearing a tweed suit and brown loafers, bursting through the door.

“I need– I need a bouquet,” he panted.

Theo’s eyes lit up at the sight of the customer. Violet was much more accustomed to helping the slow, thoughtful patrons–the customers who came in, demanding flowers in a hurry and rushing Violet’s process were never her cup of tea, but a necessary evil as part of being a business owner. Theo on the other hand was most welcoming to these hectic customers, she just had a magic touch–she knew exactly what to say and when to say it, something that Violet was never the best at herself.

“What’s the occasion, sweetie?” Theo asked, walking toward the young gentleman.

His hair was gelled, and he emanated an aura of suaveness–but not if you were to look into his eyes. His facial expression was that of someone in immense pain–not physical pain, but emotional pain, Violet had seen many people wear that same expression over the years.

“Anni–Anniversary,” he said.

“Oh, how wonderful!” Theo said, gently placing her hand on his shoulder. “Are you interested in an assortment of flowers or a mono-bouquet?”

“Whatever’s quickest, I’m supposed to meet her–oh no, now,” the man said, his face dropping.

“This calls for roses!” Theo declared, marching toward the back of the shop that contained shelves upon shelves of pre-prepared bouquets, the man’s head hanging low as he followed her.

“Here you are!” Theo said, handing him a bouquet of a dozen roses, varying in shades, a few pink, a couple white, but the majority red.

The distraught man handed Theo a twenty-dollar bill, nodded, and sprinted back the way he came.

“Oh shoot, does the twenty cover a rose bouquet?” Theo asked.

Violet smiled, nodding in response, “You know just how to work with ‘em.”

“Well, what can I say? I speak hopeless romantic.”

The two women laughed as they carried on with their usual morning duties.

As noontime drew near, Violet closed the register and grabbed her coat and clipboard that had all her notes, while Theo patted Lily and told her to not burn the place down while they were out.

With the brisk wind blowing through their grey and white hairdos, Violet locked the glass doors and smiled at Theo.

“If we cut across that way,” Violet said, pointing at the through-street right in front of the shop.

“Wait, don’t tell me, that’s Rush Street?” Theo asked hopefully.

“Very good! You’re memorizing the street names rather quickly.”

Theo smiled victoriously, “Sorry, you were saying?”

“Yes, well, we can head directly to the first apartment complex if we go across this way, then you can get a feel for the building, and see how you feel about the complex.”

“Well then, let’s hop right to it!”

The first few apartments were a bust, Theo wanted something larger, something smaller, something with a better view, something more private. Violet couldn’t blame her for being picky, in all likelihood, this was to be the last place Theo would ever live, she might as well get everything she wanted in her new home.

“Okay, this next one is pretty expensive,” Violet said.

“I make enough money, I sell flowers at a little shop in town, Violet’s Violets, ever heard of it?” Theo said.

“I thought that was an extracurricular?” Violet asked, cocking her head.

Theo’s eyes squinched as she grabbed onto Violet’s shoulders, “Oh, you.” She laughed.

As the pair approached the monochromatically colored townhouses, Violet pointed to the left.

“And there is that aforementioned flower shop,” Violet said.

“Oh, how wonderful! I could live right here, next to the shop?” Theo asked.

The townhouses at Landing Creek were the cream of the crop in Hoccosin. Forty townhouses with a decadent Victorian facade, each colored a different shade of wine red, beige, forest green, and a dozen other colors. The back row was the most coveted, as they came with a beautiful view of the Hoccosin River. Given the close proximity to the double-V, Violet had always dreamt of one day calling Landing Creek her home.

“The unit available is…” Violet paused, glancing at the notes on her clipboard. “Ooo, lucky you! It’s got a great view.”

Theo’s eyes lit up at the notion of a view, “You know exactly what a woman wants to hear.”

“It’s time to reacquaint yourself with nature and slow living,” Violet said.

“Lead the way!” Theo said.

Standing on the fourth-floor balcony, overlooking the river, Theo took a deep breath, “This is it,” she said. “I’m going to put in an offer.”

Vy stepped out next to her, taking in the view. “It isn’t too spacious? There aren’t too many stories?”

“No, it’s perfect,” Theo said. “I suppose, I could benefit from a housemate?”

Vy blinked, taken aback by the proposition. The two had become quite the duo as of late, but they still hadn’t even known each other for an entire calendar month.

Vy stood there in shock for a moment before Theo reached out to her new friend. “Oh no, I don’t mean that– or well, I suppose I don’t not mean that, but– I meant a pet. I could very much benefit from having a furry companion around.”

“Oh–oh of course!” Violet laughed. “Oh, of course, you meant a pet. The closest cat shelter is in Drexwood, I’m sure we could take a bus over there sometime this weekend and pick out another perfect little bugger for you.”

“Sounds perfect! It’s a date,” Theo said.

Violet blinked a few times and then smiled.

“I can’t believe we were able to find you an apartment, I thought we were going to have to resort to building one from scratch in the forests of Hickory Grove!” Violet laughed as she unlocked the front door to the double-V.

“I can’t believe you had that diamond at your disposal and waited until the end of our hunt to show it to me!” Theo said.

“You never want to reveal that you have a winning hand too early,” Violet said as she opened the door, motioning for Theo to enter.

“Oh, where’s the little precious gremlin,” Theo said, making her way through the front of the store.

“Mrooow,” Lily moaned, having been woken up from her afternoon nap.

“There she is!” Theo said, skipping towards the white fluff who had plopped in front of the register. “You didn’t set the store ablaze! I’m so proud of you.”

Violet exhaled a little laugh to herself and moved behind the counter, grabbing a loaf of bread, a butter knife, and jars of peanut butter and strawberry jam from under the counter.

“Tonight,” Violet began, “we feast like kings!” She said as she triumphantly placed the items on the counter.

“Oh?” Theo said, standing up. “Oh! Oh, PB and J’s–”

“This is always my go-to meal after an exhilarating activity like today’s.”

Theo slowly rubbed her fingers together and looked down at her shoes.

“But, if you’d prefer another option, we could always go to the Fresh from Scratch Bakery just down the street–” Violet said, unsure if she had done something wrong.

“No, no. I love peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, they remind me of a different time in my life, before I had come into my own. I haven’t had one since then.”

Violet, unsure of how to proceed, walked around to meet Theo and took her into a hug. While she wanted to ask her what time in her life she was referencing, Violet thought back to all the times when her curiosity, instead of connecting her with others, actually ended up pushing those closest to her away.

“When–” Theo stammered, her head draped over Violet’s shoulder, “whenever we would have a hard day, we would make PB and J’s. If he had a hard time at work or if I had a hard time in the classroom, that was our tradition.”

‘He,’ Violet promptly noted the gender of the presumed deceased.

“Thank you for sharing this with me,” Violet said, stepping back from the embrace. Violet noted how flushed Theo’s face had become, her eyes now pinkish red.

“Thank you for listening,” Theo smiled. “Now let’s make some PB and J’s and make a new tradition, hm?”

“Yes, yes indeed,” Violet said.

~ ✿ ✿ ✿ ~

That weekend, Vy and Theo took the hour-long bus from Hoccosin to Drexwood City.

“It’s been so long since I was last here,” Vy said as the pair stepped off the bus and onto the sidewalk outside a high-rise building. “You’ll be the navigator today!”

A few other people got off at the same stop, joining the herd of people on the sidewalk being shepherded toward their varying destinations.

“Well, lucky for you,” Theo smiled. “The Cat Cove is just across the street.”

The cat shelter was surprisingly small for being in a bustling city. The kittens were separated in one room, running around and playing with each other, and the adult cats were secluded in another room. About a dozen or so kittens bounded towards Theo as soon as she sat on the bench in front of them, while Vy stood off to the side, just taking in the moment.

“Oh, look at this one!” Theo said as a tabby kitten crawled up her dusty pink shawl and nuzzled into her face.

“That’s Dom,” the young cat shelter volunteer said. “He loves being as close to you as possible at all times.”

Dom curled up on Theo’s shoulder and nuzzled into her ear which made Theo laugh. Vy’s nose crinkled at the sight of Theo enjoying herself so much, Vy admired how much of herself Theo was willing to let others see without restraint. Vy had always felt such a strong need to be careful and calculating, so to see Theo so unafraid to be herself all the time, regardless of who was watching, was something of a wonder to Vy.

“Oh, I love him, but let’s go check out the adult cats,” Theo said, putting Dom back down on the bench beside her.

The volunteer led them into the next room where well over a dozen adult cats were lounging in cat trees, on the floor, and by windowsills.

Upon entering, a small tortoiseshell cat pranced up to Theo and rubbed against her legs.

“That’s Minerva, all of her litter was adopted recently but she’s still a kitten herself,” the volunteer said.

“So young and precious,” Vy said.

“And what’s that one’s name?” Theo asked, pointing to a grey and white cat with a stubby tail laying on a bench by the door.

“That’s Remy, he’s a real sweetie. I don’t know what it is about our grey cats right now, but they all love laps.”

Vy watched as Theo slowly reached out her hand to Remy to let him sniff her, and then as she sat down beside him and began petting him.

“What happened to his tail?” Vy asked as Remy got into her lap.

“When the trap-neuter-release team found him, his tail was cck,” the volunteer motioned a harsh curve with her pointer finger. “So, they had to amputate it, but he’s as happy as a clam now. Aren’t you buddy?”

Minerva strolled towards Violet, making eye contact with her, and then rubbing up against her legs.

“I’ll leave you guys to it, if you have any more questions or need any help just give me a holler!” The volunteer said as they walked back through the door to the kitten room.

“Are you leaning towards any cat?” Vy asked.

“I don’t know what it was,” Theo said as the pair crossed the street back towards the bus stop. “They were all so sweet but none of them were it–if that makes any sense?”

“It does,” Vy said, the wind rushing through her hair.

“None of them were Lily…none of them were Chamomile,” Theo said.

“We’ll find you the perfect companion, we will,” Vy said.

Despite their unsuccessful pilgrimage into Drexwood, the pair hopped off the bus back in Hoccosin with wide smiles.

“So you were in Skógur house, is that how it’s pronounced? Theo asked, stepping onto the sidewalk.

“Yep, you got it! Aside from the Himinnur house, we were the most prestigious house one could hope to get into at THAYES,” Vy explained, following closely behind her.

“Oh, and why is that?”

“Just the…nature of the house. Anyone could get into Sólgulur, but to get into Skógur or Himinnur one had to either possess certain abilities or pass a grueling set of exams.”

“And what kind of abilities would one have to possess–” Theo began to ask, but Vy cut her off.

“May’s Diner is right over there if you’d like to stop there for lunch.”

“Oh! Is this the place with the famous cucumber soup that you mentioned on the bus ride?” Theo asked.

“That’s the one! C’mon, this way.”

“Howdy, Violet!” A woman around the same age as Violet and Theo said as the pair entered the homey diner.

May’s Diner had opened just a couple of years before Violet’s Violets and being just a few storefronts down, May and Violet had always had an amicable friendship. Just like May, the diner was incredibly warm and welcoming. May’s always smelled of freshly brewed coffee, no matter the time of day, and just like the double-V, was another common hangout spot for teens attending the academy. It was a Mom and Pop style restaurant, so there were only about twenty wooden tabletops around the diner. The restaurant was at about half capacity, with a few couples, young families, and groups of teens spread out throughout the establishment. A loud ding emanated from the back where an older man wearing an all-white outfit that was covered in grease stains stuck his head out through a window from the kitchen as he placed a platter of fries and a hamburger onto a ledge. A young Asian woman with long black hair wearing a pink apron who had been talking to a customer at a nearby table perked up at the sound of the bell, stopped her conversation, and strolled over to pick up the order.

“And who is this with you?” May asked, smiling coyly.

“This is Theodosia,” Violet said.

“Hello, I’m Theo,” she said, reaching out to shake May’s hand

May was wearing a white button-down with short sleeves, black slacks, and a half-length pink apron covered in brown stains of varying shades. She had tightly knit grey curls that reached just above her chin and elegant facial features.

Vy watched as May took Theo’s hand in her own and shook it gingerly. “Where have you been hiding this one?”

“I only just recently moved to Hoccosin from Drexwood,” Theo said. “It’s lovely to make your acquaintance.”

“Well, I’m overjoyed that you decided to stop by my diner today! Let me sit you at a booth and then I’ll get your orders.”

After perusing the menus for a few minutes, Violet ordered a small seafood platter and Theo ordered cucumber soup.

“So what was your time at THAYES like?” Theo asked, leaning toward Vy from across the booth. “What were you like as a student then?”

Vy blushed as Theo closed some of the distance between them. “Well, I was quite…rowdy…in my younger years.”

“You? Rowdy? I simply find that hard to believe.” Theo said.

“It’s the truth. I had a hard time going a week without causing some kind of a ruckus in class–there was one time during ch–” She paused, “During chemistry class, that I accidentally set a classmate’s hair on fire because she was flipping her head around near a lit bunsen burner.”

“Oh! Well, that hardly sounds like your fault. She shouldn’t have been acting so recklessly near a lit flame.”

“I suppose…I was still reprimanded by the teacher and my housemaster that day. That was just one instance out of many, so they always seemed to assume the worst in me.”

Vy saw Theo’s eyes turn sorrowful for a moment, a small, sympathetic smirk forming on her face.

“My time in high school was very different I suppose,” Theo said. “I was something of a homebody until I attended college.”

“Oh?” Vy asked. “What changed?”

“A good friend. She and I met during our first weeks there and did everything together. She was much more adventurous than I ever could’ve hoped to be.”

‘She,’ Violet promptly noted the gender.

“There was one night during midterms when we spent hours on a midnight stroll. Eventually, we found ourselves by train tracks, we followed them until we realized we had walked to the next town over.”

“Whatever happened to her?” Vy asked.

“We drifted apart, I couldn’t tell you why, but not a single day goes by that I don’t think of her and reminisce on how much our friendship meant to me.”

Vy thought back on her own life. How many of her friendships had seemingly ended out of the blue for reasons unapparent to her? She had the urge to reach out, to take Theo’s hand and commiserate, but just as she was about to do so, their waitress came over with their lunches.

“Oh, thank you Rai, darling,” Theo said, making space on the table for her to set their food down.

“Of course, and if there’s anything else that I can do for you, just raise a hand,” Rai, the waitress, said as she did a small curtsy and walked away.

“This smells divine! Let’s dig in before it gets cold,” Theo said.

~ ✿ ✿ ✿ ~

The following Friday, Theo only came to the shop for just a few hours. She stepped out early as there were to be a few furniture deliveries arriving at her new townhouse. As the evening drew near, Violet closed up shop a few minutes early.

“I’ll see you later tonight, Lily, love you!” Violet said as she stepped outside.

She headed straight to Netta Grocery which was just a few storefronts down on Verona Avenue.

Upon entering the local grocery store, Violet was met with the scents of freshly baked bread and aromatic fruits.

“Hey, Violet!” A gentleman in his forties wearing a sage green apron said over his shoulder while bagging a young woman’s groceries.

“Hi there, Nate, nice to see you,” Violet said, walking towards the bakery section at the front of the store and perusing the different loaves of bread.

After dancing her fingers over the various different types of loaves–white, pumpernickel, sourdough, rye, multigrain, gluten-free, she settled on the old faithful: whole wheat. Violet placed the loaf of bread into her baby blue knitted bag and turned away from the bread. She had never asked Theo what her favorite type of bread was, but she didn’t seem to have any complaints over the type of bread when they had been eating the PB and J’s the other day, so she brushed the worry aside.

Next, Violet moved towards the various fruits and vegetables, her eyes glazing over each crate until she reached the tomatoes. She picked out a vine of six plump tomatoes, each that were as big as the palm of her hand. Next, she eyed the onions that were in a nearby crate and picked out three yellow onions, and carefully placed them into her bag beside the tomatoes.

Then, she headed for the deli section on the side of the grocery store, eyeing each of the different types of freshly sliced cheeses. Violet selected a dozen slices of Monterey Jack wrapped in cellophane paper and smiled to herself.

The final items on her grocery list were butter and heavy cream, which she found nestled in the back left-hand corner of the store, next to the milk and other dairy products.

Standing in line, she eyed the various items resting in her bag and hoped that this surprise would be welcomed.

“Whatcha got for me tonight, Violet?” Nate asked as she moved to the front of the line.

“Just a few items,” she said, placing the bag onto the conveyor belt.

“Ooo, making your world-famous tomato soup?” Nate asked, scanning each item.

“How’d you guess?” Violet said, reaching for her coin purse.

“Well,” Nate said, accepting the cash from Violet. “I hope that whoever the lucky person is, they know that they’re gonna be eating liquid gold tonight!”

Knocking on the door to Theo’s townhouse, Violet heard a small crash and a distant “coming!” Moments later, Theo opened the door, her hair tied up in a bun, wearing a white blouse and a long flowing mint green skirt.

“Vy! What a lovely surprise, come in, come in! What do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well, I thought that you might be in need of a fresh home-cooked meal?” Vy asked.

“You know the way to a woman’s heart,” Theo smiled.

The living room was full of life; a burgundy couch in the center of the room facing the cobblestone fireplace, boxes strewn here and there, and paintings and portraits in decadent frames lining the walls where they will eventually be hung.

“You don’t stop what you’re doing,” Vy said, heading straight for the kitchen. “Dinner will be ready in half an hour!”

After eating the liquid gold tomato soup and grilled cheeses atop a cardboard box coffee table, Vy and Theo leaned back against the couch.

“I haven’t had a meal that good in ages!” Theo said. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Vy said.

Theo yawned, reaching her arms out in front of her, and then nestled into Vy’s chest.

Vy’s eyes shot wide open, not having expected Theo to have moved so close to her. She wasn't uncomfortable with the sudden closeness, rather, she just hadn’t expected Theo to have initiated it.

“I haven’t had a night like this since he–my late husband, Nygel, passed on,” Theo said.

‘Nygel,’ Vy promptly noted the name to herself.

“He was a lovely man and a wonderful husband, the marriage was full of mutual respect and love just not–love-love, if that means anything,” Theo said, gesturing her hand upwards.

“I was never lucky enough to find a partner suitable enough for marriage,” Vy began, before taking a deep breath and continuing. “I had a lovely girlfriend during my time in the Academy, but our lives were on two different paths, and I refused to let my guard down.” Vy’s voice trailed off. “But ultimately, I’m okay with that, I’ve filled my life with plants and Lily and other types of love instead.”

“Love is such a fickle thing, I hope that one day we can both find it again,” Theo said, craning her neck up to look into Vy’s eyes.

“I hope so, too,” Vy said, maintaining eye contact.

~ ✿ ✿ ✿ ~

That night, as Violet lay down in bed, she thought about the last few weeks that she had spent with her new friend. Staring up at the popcorn ceiling, she considered all the years she had spent living alone in the small town. Yes, she had her faithful cat who went with her from home to work every day, but as far as human companionship, Violet had all but overlooked that department. Maybe it was time to reconsider her current arrangement. Maybe it was time to give love another try.

The following day, Violet arrived at the shop extra early, Lily right at her ankles. She wanted to prepare the store for Theo’s arrival–a homecoming, as it may. Opening the glass doors, Lily bounded inside, heading straight to her favorite morning nap spot under the counter. Violet dusted the shelves, wiped the soil off the sides of pots, and tinkered with the mechanics of the grow lights. Glancing down at her watch, Violet realized that Theo should have arrived a few minutes ago. In their short time knowing each other, Theo was certainly known to be punctual. Violet cocked her head, looking toward Lily as she yawned and slinked her way out of her nook.

“Sorry, she isn’t here yet, Lily,” Violet said.

Lily meowed hoarsely in response.

Violet chuckled to herself; a cat freshly woken from a nap was one of her favorite sights to behold–for it was one of the most vulnerable and precious sights.

“I suppose I can brew some tea for her,” Violet thought aloud.

Violet snipped a few sprigs of fresh mint from the windowsill, nabbed some spare chamomile blossoms off the shelf, and moved to the counter. She pulled a tea kettle out of the lower cabinet, filled it with water from the farmhouse-style sink, and plugged it into the socket at the countertop. She then retrieved two teacups from the top drawer and placed a few chamomile petals and some mint in each glass. Admiring her work, Violet continued to wonder what her friend must be off doing.

Half an hour later, one teacup now empty and the other room temperature, Violet was sat at the workbench, biting her nails. Lily meowed at her feet, brushing her fluffy tail against her legs.

Then, the door jingled open as Theodosia stepped inside, carrying the grandest bouquet of violets.

“I’m so sorry for my tardiness,” Theo said, sitting across from Vy at the workbench.

“Well, you’re clearly excused, you obviously were out on a very important errand,” Vy laughed.

“Oh, yes! These are for you,” Theo said, handing her the bouquet. “I’ve heard through the grapevine that in order to be a ‘true Hoccosinian’ one must gift a bouquet of flowers to a current resident, and I also learned that to date, no one has ever given you, the bouquet queen, a bouquet, so, I wanted to change that.”

With tears filling the corners of Vy’s eyes, she placed the bouquet on the table and maneuvered around the other side of the table to take Theo into a hug.

“Thank you for thinking of me,” Vy said.

“It was the least I could do, after everything you’ve done for me, helping me get accustomed to a new town, for being my first friend here,” Theo said, hugging Vy back.

“I’ve done some thinking,” Vy said, pulling away from the hug but remaining closely beside Theo, their knees brushing. “And I know you said that you want a furry companion, and I think Lily would be the perfect fit for you.”

“Oh–I could never take her from you, that’s preposterous!”

“Don’t be dismayed, Lily would stay with me, I am insinuating that instead of gaining solely a pet as a housemate, I would move in with you as well. I know it may be brash, but we’re not young anymore, we don’t have the need to mince words anymore.”

A smile spread across Theo’s face as she took Violet back into another hug. “Oh, wondrous day! I would be honored!”

Vy pulled back from the hug, staring into Theo’s eyes, admiring her beautiful face, and felt herself soften as her heart begged for her to fall into her emotions fully, deeply, and without restraint. Just as Theo would do.

Vy opened her mouth to speak but was caught off guard by Theo gently grasping her face with both hands.

“May we not mince words? Theo asked.

Violet nodded her head slowly, a small part of herself still unsure.

But as Theo’s soft lips took Vy’s into her own, she felt that everything was suddenly right in the world. She felt herself fall into love, for the first time, without restraint.

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