#The Faded Portrait of a Bygone Era

[zapreportsblog]

You know the “opposites attract” relationships?

How about do one with Brahms?

Brahms - clingy, protective, stiff

Reader - calm, trusting, soft

Brahms X calm! Reader

Thank youuuuu :)

❝clingy❞

✭ pairing : brahms heelshire x reader

✭ fandom : slashers

✭ summary : brahms is one hell of a touch starved man and when (y/n) came into his life he expected her to be just like all the others, but she isn’t. In fact she embraces him with welcome arms so does that mean all those people who left him are because it’s his fault?

✭ slashers masterlist

The wind whispered through the ancient trees that surrounded Heelshire Manor, casting eerie shadows on its aged façade. (Y/N) had applied for a simple job months ago, never imagining how peculiar her new role would become. The advertisement had called for a caretaker, someone to oversee the estate's unique collection of antiques and curiosities. Little did she know, her main charge would be a doll of all things.

The first time she laid eyes on the doll, she was taken aback. It was an exquisitely crafted replica of a man, dressed in aristocratic attire from a bygone era. The porcelain face bore an uncanny resemblance to the owner of the manor, Brahms Heelshire, whose family had owned the estate for generations. The locals whispered tales of the Hellshire curse, and their peculiar fascination only fueled the sense of mystery that hung over the manor.

As (Y/N) settled into her role, her days were filled with dusting ancient furniture, polishing silverware, and, most importantly, attending to the doll. The instructions were simple: ensure the doll's clothing remained impeccable, the porcelain visage remained pristine, and its position on the mantel stayed undisturbed. The task was mundane, yet it carried an air of reverence, as if the doll held some deeper significance that transcended its appearance.

Days turned into weeks, and (Y/N) gradually grew accustomed to her routine. The mansion's interior was an amalgamation of faded opulence and eerie silence. The walls seemed to whisper secrets, and the portraits of long-departed Heelshire ancestors stared down with solemn gazes. Every creak and rustle echoed through the hallways, keeping her senses on high alert.

One evening, as she carefully adjusted the doll's coat collar, she felt an inexplicable shiver run down her spine. A feeling of being watched settled over her, but she brushed it off as her imagination running wild. That night, though, as she lay in bed, she could have sworn she heard faint whispers carried on the breeze.

The following days brought a series of odd occurrences: a book left open to a specific page she hadn't touched, a teacup shifted slightly on its saucer. She couldn't shake the feeling that someone was playing tricks on her, but each time she looked around, the empty rooms offered no answers.

It was on the night of a thunderstorm that everything changed. Lightning illuminated the mansion's darkened interior, casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls. (Y/N) found herself drawn to the doll, her fingers tracing its delicate features in the dim light.

And then, as the thunder roared and rain beat against the windows, she heard a whisper so faint it might have been her own imagination. "(Y/N)…" The voice seemed to emanate from within the doll itself.

Startled, she stumbled back, her heart racing. But then, as if responding to an unseen presence, the doll's eyes blinked. A shock of realization coursed through her: the doll was no mere doll; it was a conduit to something more.

"(Y/N)…" The voice was clearer this time, resonating through the room. She watched in awe as the doll's porcelain skin began to soften, its limbs shifting, as if a dormant life was awakening.

And then, from the doll's heart, a figure emerged. A man, dressed in period clothing, stood before her, his eyes fixed upon her with a mix of curiosity and caution. It was Brahms Heelshire himself, or a spectral semblance of him.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still as they stared at each other in silence. (Y/N) was taken aback by the unexpected turn of events, her heart pounding in her chest. But amidst the shock and fear, an unspoken understanding passed between them.

The man, or whatever he was, spoke softly, his voice tinged with both melancholy and yearning. "You did not flee, as others before you have. Why?"

With a steady breath, (Y/N) met his gaze. "I believe that even the most peculiar of situations deserve a chance to be understood. And, in all honesty, I've grown fond of the company, even if it's a doll or a spectral form."

A ghostly smile touched his lips, and for the first time, she saw a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. "You’re courageous , (Y/N)."

And so, an unusual connection was forged within the walls of Heelshire Manor — a connection that transcended the boundaries between the living and the spectral. As (Y/N) continued her role as caretaker, the enigmatic Brahms Heelshire ventured forth from his hidden existence within the doll, revealing himself to her in a way no one else had dared to witness.

Over the course of the next few months and then two years, an unexpected bond blossomed between (Y/N) and Brahms. As the seasons changed, so did their relationship, evolving into something far beyond what (Y/N) could have ever anticipated. She had become accustomed to Brahms' spectral presence, his masked face a constant companion. Despite his initial mysterious aura, she found comfort in his company and the intriguing conversations they shared.

Brahms, for his part, reveled in the connection he had forged with (Y/N). No longer confined to the doll's form, he wandered the mansion's halls and rooms, always keeping a respectful distance from her. Yet, he was undeniably clingy, often hovering nearby, his presence an unspoken reassurance. His touch starvation, accumulated over years of isolation, drove him to seek her proximity. Whether it was watching her read in the library or tending to the mansion's gardens, he was there, his masked face silently observing.

Their bond deepened, and with time, their relationship took an unexpected turn. The unspoken attraction that had simmered between them evolved into a romantic connection. Their feelings grew steadily, and one evening, as the sun set over the mansion's sprawling gardens, Brahms removed his mask, revealing his disfigured face to (Y/N). She met his gaze without flinching, accepting him just as he was.

They became a couple, their connection forged in the quiet moments they shared, the lingering glances, and the touch of their hands. (Y/N) found herself drawn to his vulnerability and complexity, and he was captivated by her acceptance and compassion.

However, even as their relationship thrived, an undercurrent of unease began to surface. Brahms, though no longer confined to the doll, remained deeply afraid of losing (Y/N). His history of people fleeing from his presence had left scars that ran deep. His clinginess intensified, a silent plea for her to stay by his side.

As the months turned into years, Brahms' fear only grew. He watched as (Y/N) went about her daily routines, her calm demeanor seemingly unfazed by his constant presence. Yet, he couldn't shake the thought that his clinginess might drive her away. The fear of rejection gnawed at him, an invisible specter that haunted his every interaction with her.

One evening, as they sat by the fireplace, the crackling flames casting shadows on the walls, Brahms hesitated before speaking. "I fear that my need for your presence might become unbearable," he confessed, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

(Y/N) turned to him, her eyes soft and understanding. "Brahms, you're not driving me away. I'm here because I choose to be. Your presence doesn't suffocate me; it's become a comfort."

He looked at her with a mix of hope and trepidation, struggling to believe her words. "But I'm constantly clinging to you, fearing that you might vanish like the others."

Gently, she reached out and took his hand. "Brahms, you're not alone anymore. I'm not going anywhere. We'll face your fears together."

A fragile smile graced his lips as he intertwined his fingers with hers, the weight of his vulnerability lessening, if only by a fraction. With her steady presence by his side, he dared to hope that he could overcome his past and embrace the happiness that had entered his life.

Their journey was far from easy, but with time, patience, and unwavering support, (Y/N) and Brahms forged a love that transcended the boundaries of the living and the spectral. And through it all, they learned that sometimes, the most profound connections are born from the places where fear and acceptance collide.

[ouat-in-spare-oom-of-rivendell]

The Chronicles of Narnia Masterlist

Caspian

The Faded Portrait of a Bygone Era series

Summary: Five Royals ruled over Narnia, crowned by Aslan himself. Their story is legend throughout all the land. A great detail of note is that these Kings and Queens are from another world. The fifth is even more odd - for she came from the same world as the others, but from an entirely different century.

When this small family is separated by time, it seems unlikely that they will ever meet again. But Aslan’s will is a tricky thing. Will the five be able to cope in this new Narnia, when everything they knew has gone, and a Telmarine Prince makes a bid for the throne?

Series Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Magic, Major Character Death

Read on Ao3 (x Reader)

Read on Quotev (x OC)

Complete

Additional Content:

I made a playlist

Another playlist courtesy of @thefairywanderer !

Edmund Pevensie

Captain of the Guard one shot

Summary: A mysterious knight shows up and challenges the King to a duel. This stranger turns out to be connected to the royals' past.

Peter Pevensie

Some Things Are Meant to Be one shot

Summary: Peter is in love with you, but he thinks you love Edmund.

The Lady of Calormen one shot

Summary: The High King of Narnia is betrothed to a Calormen noblewoman. The entire kingdom is on edge, waiting to see what she will be like. After meeting her, however, Peter finds something stirring inside.

A Lovely Night one shot

Summary: Overwhelmed by royal duties, Peter starts to notice that he's slowly losing the one that means the most. What can be done to win her back?

Peter Pevensie comforting you after a nightmare (Golden Age) imagine

[stargirlaveblog]

7Seals

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Chapter 16*

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•Previous Chapter: Chapter Fifteen

•Next Chapter: Chapter Seventeen

•Chapter List

•New chapters every Thursday. Next update 3/21/24

•Content: Levi Ackerman × OC female. Slow Burn! Canon verse!

•Word Count: 4.4k

•Warning: This content may not be suitable for all readers. If you've watched all of AOT then you will understand that the show handles heavy subjects such as abuse, racism, violence, and other heavy subjects. This fanfiction will also have the same heavy themes. Chapters with heavy themes will be marked with (*) at each chapter. This chapter does contain themes of death. Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with that topic.

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Gassed  - Bobby Krlic (Midsommar Soundtrack)

0:00 ━❍────── 4:29

↻ ⊲ Ⅱ ⊳ ↺

VOLUME: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%

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As we gathered around the opulent dining table, the weight of memories pressed down upon me like a suffocating blanket. The clinking of silverware and the murmur of conversation faded into the background as I drifted further into the recesses of my mind.

The portraits adorning the walls seemed to leer at me, their frozen smiles mocking my pain. Each stroke of the brush captured a moment in time, a fragment of a life that no longer existed. My mother's face, forever preserved in oils, gazed down at me with an expression of warmth and love that felt like a cruel mockery of my current reality.

As we sat in the grand dining room, surrounded by the solemn gazes of the portraits, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. My likeness, frozen in time, stared back at me from its gilt frame, a silent testament to the innocence I had lost.

The girl in the painting seemed to mock me, her carefree smile was long gone. She was a relic of a bygone era, a reminder of the girl I would never be again. Her eyes held a spark of vitality that had long since faded from my own, a painful reminder of all that I had lost.

I couldn't bear to meet her gaze, couldn't bear to confront the stark reality of who I had become. In her eyes, I saw all the hopes and dreams that had been shattered by tragedy and loss. She was a ghost of my past, haunting me with memories of a life that could never be reclaimed.

As the conversation flowed around me, I felt myself sinking deeper into despair. Levi's voice, usually a source of strength and reassurance, was nothing more than background noise, his presence a distant echo in the cavernous room. Hange's laughter grated on my nerves, a sharp reminder of the carefree spirit I had once possessed.

I pushed my food around my plate, the taste of each morsel turning to ash in my mouth. The weight of my past hung heavy upon my shoulders, threatening to crush me beneath its burden. How could I face the future when the past loomed so large, casting a shadow that stretched back through the years?

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"Iris?" Her soft tones drifted from the hallway, gentle and reassuring.

I couldn't find the strength to respond, my heart heavy with sorrow and my eyes swollen with tears. I felt her presence draw near, her touch a soothing balm against the ache in my soul.

Her hand found its way to my back, tracing small circles that sent shivers down my spine. With a sigh, I leaned into her touch, grateful for the comfort she offered.

"You're worried, aren't you?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, filled with understanding and empathy.

"Worried doesn't even begin to cover it," I admitted, my voice choked with emotion.

"I know, and I'm sorry," she murmured, her words a gentle reminder of the sacrifices we had made for love. "But this was the only way to ensure his safety above ground. After his contract is up, he will be a free man."

"But what if he doesn't make it into the top ten?" I sobbed, the weight of uncertainty crushing me beneath its relentless force.

"I assure you, he will make the top ten," she insisted, her voice laced with determination. My mother was not one to make empty promises; she knew things that I could only imagine.

"Iris, please. Look at me," she implored, lifting my chin to meet her gaze. "Dry up those tears. Tonight is your last night with him before he leaves. Don't waste it on sorrow. Go and cherish every moment you have together."

I stared into her jade eyes, the warmth of her love washing over me like a gentle breeze. With a deep breath, I wiped away my tears, determined to make the most of the time we had left.

"Okay," I whispered, a flicker of hope igniting within me once more.

"Good," she said, rising from her seat and smoothing down her black dress. "Your father has requested my presence at the church tonight, so we won't be back until later."

"I love you, Iris."

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As Ivy's voice pierced through the haze of my daydream, I found myself swirling my glass of wine absentmindedly, the crimson liquid dancing in intricate patterns. Taking a sip, I let the rich taste wash over me, a fleeting distraction from the chaos unfolding at the dinner table.

There she was, Ivy, seated next to Levi, her infatuation palpable in every word she uttered. My father seemed thoroughly entertained by her antics, indulging her with amused chuckles while completely ignoring my presence. But then again, I hadn't exactly been the life of the party, choosing to drown in silence instead.

"So, Captain Levi, what made you choose my daughter for your squad?" My father's voice cut through the air, his gaze piercing through me with thinly veiled disapproval as I raised my glass to my lips once more.

"Erwin placed her with me," Levi's voice, a rare disruption in the symphony of chatter, broke through the tension at the table.

"So the rumors aren't true? You didn't handpick your squad members?" My father pressed further, his curiosity tinged with skepticism.

"No, I did," Levi asserted, his tone firm and unwavering.

As the conversation continued to ebb and flow around me, I couldn't help but feel a pang of irritation at the way Ivy hung onto his every word, her eyes sparkling with admiration, while my father seemed almost skeptical of Levi.

"So if given the choice, would you have chosen my daughter for your squad?" My father's inquiry hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the dinner table. His scrutiny was like a weight on my shoulders, pressing down with every passing moment.

I swirled the wine in my glass, its crimson hues dancing under the soft glow of the dining room chandelier. My father's questioning always had a way of making me feel like a child again, unsure and unsteady under his watchful eye. His doubts were no secret, his skepticism regarding my place in the Scouts was a constant source of tension between us.

"I would have still chosen your daughter if it was my choice," Levi spoke out, his voice softer than usual but only Hange and I would recognize the difference. To my family, he remained apathetic, his demeanor unwavering in the face of my father's interrogation.

I glanced up from my glass to meet Levi's gaze, finding a flicker of something unfamiliar in his steely eyes. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, a crack in his usual facade that only I seemed to notice.

"As a father, I was worried when I found out my eldest daughter joined the Scouts," my father admitted, his voice tinged with a mix of pride. "But knowing she's under your command, I have a good feeling she will be alright."

"She's fine on her own." His response was blunt and short as ever.

"If she truly was, then she'd be a captain already, not--" My father's voice grated on my nerves, but I wasn't about to let him finish that sentence unchallenged.

"I've had plenty of chances to be a captain. I just prefer being his right hand," I retorted, my tone dripping with defiance. It was like they were talking around me as if I were some puppet on strings instead of a soldier capable of making her own decisions.

My father's disapproving scoff only fueled my irritation.

"You passed up a captaincy just to keep playing second fiddle to him? You haven't changed a bit."

With a resigned sigh, my father stood up, signaling the end of dinner.

"Well, it's been lovely, but duty calls. Make yourselves at home. Elenor will show you to your rooms."

As he left the room, I resisted the urge to hurl my wine glass after him. It was just like him to avoid a confrontation, to walk away when things got uncomfortable.

Left at the table, I reached for the wine bottle, pouring myself a generous serving. The ruby liquid swirled in the glass, a comforting sight amidst the chaos of my family dinner.

When I glanced up, I found Levi's gaze already fixed on me, his eyes betraying a hint of amusement. I couldn't help but smirk back at him, raising my glass in a silent toast. His disapproving shake of the head only made me grin wider.

"You need to eat," Levi's voice broke through the heavy silence that had settled over the table.

"I'm not hungry," I retorted, parroting back all the times he'd refused food I'd offered him.

"Don't make me come over there," he warned.

I rolled my eyes, stabbing at my mashed potatoes with more force than necessary and shoveling a forkful into my mouth.

"Happy?" I mumbled with a full mouth.

"Ecstatic," he deadpanned.

Meanwhile, Hange was practically drooling over the food.

"Iris, you mind if I finish that?" they asked eagerly, reaching for the remnants of my meal.

"Is that even a question? Here," I replied, pushing the plate toward them with a smirk.

As Hange gobbled up the last of my food, their attention turned to the portraits lining the walls of the dining room.

"These are beautiful. How old were you guys when these were painted?" they asked, their mouths still half-full.

"Iris was fifteen, I was thirteen. It was a gift from our grandfather," Ivy answered, her gaze lingering on the paintings with a hint of nostalgia.

"Hmm, Iris, you look so innocent in yours," Hange observed, scrutinizing the portrait closely. "Wait, is that a paintbrush and canvas next to you?"

I sighed, knowing where this was going. "Yeah, good observation," I muttered sarcastically.

"Do you paint?" Hange inquired, genuinely curious.

"Obviously," Levi interjected, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he rose from his seat and made his exit.

"How did you not even know? You were roommates for a good five years."

With Levi gone, it was just Hange, my sister, and my left in the dining room. As Hange continued to pepper me with questions about my artistic endeavors, I couldn't help but feel a pang of annoyance at Levi's abrupt departure. But then again, that was just Levi being Levi.

"You know, Iris," Ivy began, her voice laced with a honeyed sweetness that made my skin crawl.

"I've always admired Captain Levi's...strength."

But Ivy wasn't finished. With a coy smile, she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"I must admit, Iris, I never realized how handsome Captain Levi was until now. It's nice to finally put a name to the face."

Her eyes glimmered with an intensity that made my stomach churn uncomfortably, her subtle gestures betraying a keen interest in a man who had never shown an inkling of reciprocation. Let alone a man she just met.

"I've heard tales of his valor," she continued, her tone dripping with exaggerated admiration, "and his dedication to the cause."

I exchanged a glance with Hange, silently pleading for intervention, but she merely offered an amused smirk, clearly reveling in Ivy's shameless flirtation.

"And speaking of dedication," Ivy added, her gaze lingering on me for a moment too long, "Iris, do you know if Captain Levi has any... personal commitments? Perhaps to someone special?"

The insinuation hung in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating me with its implications. Ivy's relentless pursuit of Levi's attention grated on my nerves, igniting a fierce discomfort that begged for escape.

With a strained smile, I rose from the table, clutching at the excuse of fetching another bottle of wine to mask my abrupt departure.

"Hange can tell you all about it," I muttered, my voice betraying a hint of urgency as I fled the suffocating atmosphere of the dining room, leaving behind Ivy's lingering gaze and the unsettling echo of her probing inquiries.

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I tiptoed past the dining room, where the echoes of Ivy and Hange's laughter reverberated through the corridors like a mischievous melody. They were knee-deep in their preparations for the upcoming ball, their voices beamed with excitement as they discussed everything from decorations to dance partners.

I couldn't bring myself to join them. The mere thought of endless hours spent deliberating over floral arrangements and seating charts made my head throb with an intensity that rivaled the morning sun. So instead, I sought refuge in the solitude of my old room, hoping to find solace in the familiar confines of my childhood sanctuary.

But even sleep proved to be an elusive escape, my dreams haunted by fragmented memories and whispered regrets. When I finally roused from my restless slumber, a throbbing headache greeted me like an unwelcome guest, a lingering reminder of the wine-fueled haze that had clouded my senses the night before.

Seeking respite from the cacophony of laughter downstairs, I made my way to the kitchen, the promise of a steaming cup of tea luring me like a siren's song. Yet, to my surprise, I found Elenor already there, her deft hands maneuvering with practiced ease as she prepared a tray laden with snacks and tea.

"Well, well, if it isn't our sleeping beauty," Elenor quipped, her smile warm and welcoming despite the late hour.

I offered her a sheepish grin, my headache pulsing with renewed vigor as I scanned the array of herbal remedies lining the shelves.

"Just the person I was hoping to see," I replied, my tone tinged with a hint of desperation.

Elenor's gaze softened with sympathy as she assessed my condition, her fingers deftly selecting a blend of lavender and ginger to soothe my aching head.

"Your mother's tea will do wonders," she assured me, her voice a gentle balm against the discordant symphony of my thoughts.

"Are you not lending a hand with the planning?" Elenor inquired, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

As she busied herself with the preparations, I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at the prospect of evading my duties yet again. At the same time, I didn't ask to be a part of the planning. I shook my head, a sigh escaping my lips as I resigned myself to my fate.

"Not my forte,"

But Elenor had other plans, her gaze unwavering as she handed me the tray, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes.

"Levi requested tea," she revealed, her smile knowing. "And since you're here, you might as well check in on your guest."

I opened my mouth to protest, but Elenor was already retreating, her laughter trailing behind her like a whisper in the wind. With a resigned sigh, I grasped the tray tightly, steeling myself for the inevitable encounter that awaited me. After all, if there was one thing more daunting than planning a ball, it was facing Levi Ackerman with a pounding headache but at least I had a tray of tea in hand.

As I stood in the hallway of my childhood home, the weight of the tray in my hands felt like an anchor tethering me to a past I longed to forget. Every step towards Levi's room I felt my stomach turn and my hands start to shake.

The portraits lining the walls seemed to mock me with their silent gaze, their painted eyes boring into my soul as if they knew the secrets I harbored within. Memories, both bitter and sweet, threatened to overwhelm me, each step forward a hesitant shuffle toward the inevitable.

Elenor's well-intentioned gesture had unwittingly become a catalyst for my torment, her innocent invitation to deliver tea to a guest transforming into a cruel reminder of everything I had lost. I wanted to scream, to lash out at the walls closing in around me, but the weight of my grief held me captive in its suffocating embrace.

With trembling hands, I approached the door to Levi's room, the wood worn smooth from years of use. I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest, the memories flooding my mind with a dizzying intensity.

My gaze fell upon the looming presence of the parlor room, its doors casting a shadow over my memories like a specter from the past. It had been years since I had dared to venture near that threshold, the weight of its significance bearing down on me with each passing moment.

The last time I crossed that threshold was the day my mother drew her final breath, the room forever frozen in time as a testament to the tragedy that had unfolded within its walls. It had become a sanctuary of sorrow, a sacred space untouched by the passage of time.

The memories that lingered within those walls were a haunting presence, a reminder of the pain and loss that had defined my existence ever since that fateful day. And yet, despite my best efforts to bury them, they clawed their way back to the surface, threatening to consume me once more.

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I couldn't wipe the grin off my face as Alexander guided the stallion through the gates, his hand firmly clasping mine. The exhilaration of our impending announcement coursed through me, making my heart race with anticipation.

Dismounting gracefully, Alexander extended his hand to help me down from the horse, his touch sending a shiver of excitement down my spine. I couldn't help but admire the glint of the ring on my finger, the sunlight catching the gemstone in a dazzling display.

"Ready to share the news?" Alexander's voice was filled with excitement as he gestured towards the house, his eyes shining with anticipation.

"My mother deserves to know first," I replied, a smile playing at the corners of my lips as Alexander led me towards the entrance.

As we burst through the door, Elenor's surprised voice greeted us, her eyes widening at our sudden arrival.

"Lady Iris!" she yelled, taken aback by our unannounced entrance.

"Sorry to barge in, Elenor. Do you know where mother is?" I asked my hand still intertwined with Alexander's, the ring sparkling in the light.

"In the piano room, but she didn't seem well," Elenor replied, concern etched on her face. "Perhaps it's best to wait until later."

"I have just the thing to cheer her up," I announced proudly, holding out my hand to reveal the dazzling ring.

Elenor gasped in astonishment, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of the ring.

"Oh, my, that's stunning," she exclaimed, her excitement contagious.

"This will surely bring a smile to her face! Off you go then!" With a warm smile, she ushered us towards the piano room, leaving me feeling buoyant and eager to share our joyous news with my mother.

As we burst into the room, my heart racing with anticipation, I scanned the parlor with eager eyes, searching for any sign of my mother's presence. But the room lay empty, void of the familiar warmth and laughter that usually filled its walls.

"Let's check the parlor," I urged, my voice trembling with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Gripping Alexander's hand tightly, I led the way, my steps quickening with each passing moment.

With a swift motion, I flung open the doors to my mother's sanctuary, my breath catching in my throat as I stepped inside. But instead of the welcoming embrace I had anticipated, the room seemed to darken before my eyes, the air heavy with an oppressive sense of foreboding.

A strangled cry tore from my lips as I stumbled forward, the weight of despair crashing over me like a tidal wave. Alexander's arms enveloped me, anchoring me to the ground as I sank to my knees, the world spinning around me in a dizzying blur.

Desperation clawed at my chest as I fought to reach her, my hands grasping for something, anything to hold onto. But Alexander held me back, his voice a distant echo in the chaos, his attempts to comfort me falling on deaf ears.

The sound of Elenor's scream pierced the air, shattering the silence with a jolt of raw emotion. My body trembled with exhaustion, every muscle aching with the weight of grief as I struggled to make sense of the nightmare unfolding around me.

But no matter how hard I tried, the truth remained unchanged, a bitter pill I couldn't swallow. And as the echoes of my cries filled the room, I felt the world slip away, consumed by darkness I could never escape.

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"Iris," Levi's voice broke through the haze of my thoughts, snapping me back to reality.

I blinked, startled to find him standing before me, his presence looming like a shadow in the dimly lit hallway. He wasn't clad in his usual uniform or stiff attire; instead, he wore something casual, an unexpected sight that softened his typically stern demeanor.

"Sorry," I stammered, momentarily flustered by his sudden appearance.

"I brought you tea." I lifted the tray in the offering, hoping to break the awkward silence that hung between us like a heavy fog.

Without a word, Levi reached out and snatched the tray from my grasp, his movements sharp and efficient. With a curt nod, he gestured for me to enter, holding the door open with an impatient air.

"Are you going to stand there all night?" His voice was laced with irritation, a sharp contrast to the calm facade he exuded just moments ago.

"Right. Sorry," I muttered, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up my cheeks as I followed him into the room.

The door clicked shut behind me, enclosing us in a cocoon of silence. I made my way to the seating area near the fireplace, the crackling flames casting flickering shadows across the room. It had been ages since I set foot in this space, and the sight of another person occupying it—especially Levi, of all people—sent a strange pang of discomfort through me.

Only these walls know the things that have happened in this room.

As Levi busied himself with pouring the tea, the tension in the room seemed to thicken, suffocating me with its weight. I fidgeted with the hem of my dress, unsure of what to say or do to break through the palpable awkwardness that hung between us like a heavy shroud.

"When was the last time you were back in this hell hole?" Levi's voice cut through the quiet, punctuated by the clink of his cup meeting his lips.

"The trials," I replied curtly, my tone matching his blunt demeanor.

He simply nodded, taking another sip of his tea, his expression unreadable.

"It's been that long, huh?" he remarked, his voice carrying a hint of sympathy.

"Yeah, I don't like being here," I admitted, feeling a twinge of discomfort at the memories this place evoked.

"I don't blame you. Your family—" He paused as if grappling with his next words, and I braced myself for the inevitable mention of my past.

"Irritating? Think they're better than everyone else? Annoying?" I supplied, cutting him off before he could tip-toe around the truth. His restraint was admirable, but sometimes honesty was necessary, especially in moments like these.

"No," he responded quickly, his eyes darting away from mine.

"Don't hold yourself back now," I teased, a playful smile tugging at my lips. "It's times like this when I need your witty remarks."

His gaze returned to meet mine, a flicker of relief dancing across his features.

"Your sister is a nuisance," he admitted, his tone tinged with frustration. "The woman does not shut up."

"Oh, it's only going to get worse," I chuckled, taking a sip of my tea. "Trust me."

"I don't understand," he groaned, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I just met her."

"Well, get ready," I quipped, a mischievous glint in my eye. "You're in for a wild ride."

"Everyone's heard the stories of Captain Levi and how he's dedicated to the cause," I mimicked Ivy's voice, earning an eye roll from Levi in response.

"I'm just doing my job," he replied, his tone clipped and dismissive.

"Yeah, and you're pretty good at it. Of course, people are going to talk about the guy with a Titan kill count of thirty-six," I remarked, unable to resist poking fun at his legendary status.

"It's not thirty-six," he groaned, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

"Yes, it is," I insisted, refusing to let him downplay his achievements.

"Can't be," he muttered, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the truth.

"I keep track."

"Well, don't. It's not useful," he retorted, his irritation evident.

"It's fun, and I'm going to continue to do so," I declared, standing up from my seat.

"Where are you going?" he interjected, his voice betraying a hint of concern.

"To bed, and so should you," I replied, flashing him a playful smirk.

"Big talk from someone who doesn't sleep," he fired back, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"Likewise," I countered, returning his smile as I made my way to the door. "Goodnight, Captain."

"Night," he responded, his gaze lingering on me as I exited the room.

"Iris," my father's voice called out from his study, the door ajar, inviting me in with its dim illumination.

With a heavy sigh, I stepped into the room, bracing myself for the inevitable confrontation.

"Father," I greeted him curtly as I entered.

"Close the door," he ordered, his tone firm and unwavering.

I complied, closing the door behind me with a soft click, the sound echoing in the tense silence that hung between us.

As my father removed his reading glasses and set them aside, his gaze bore into me with a harshness that cut to the core. It was a look I'd grown accustomed to over the years, but it still stung every time.

"You know how I feel about going into another man's room unwedded," he began, his words dripping with disdain. "Don't want to make the same mistake as last time."

"It's not like that. He's my captain," I protested, attempting to defend myself against his accusations.

"Captain and subordinates don't spend alone time together. It's inappropriate," he admonished, his voice growing harsher with each word. "You have a habit of inappropriate behavior. It makes our family look bad. He's from the underground; he's nothing but trouble."

I couldn't help but fire back, my stubbornness bubbling to the surface.

"Last I recall, you favored a boy from the underground."

"And look where that got you. Cowering under that fool's hands. I thought the Scouts were supposed to make you fearless and strengthen you. All that work and you're still weak."

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

A/N: Midsommar & Florence Pugh’s acting was my inspiration when writing Iris’s flashback about her mother. I’m sorry for such an eerie song to go with the chapter but if you’ve seen the movie then you’d understand what I’m trying to convey.

[the-goldenbunny-diaries]

The Woman In The Portrait

⚢ Pairing - Sana x reader

✎ Word Count - 1.4k

☆ Genre - Angst

♡ Description - You stumble upon an abandoned house and find yourself mesmerized with the portrait on the wall (A/N: so much inspiration came from this picture that I had to write something)

*note: italicized text either happens in your head or is a flashback of sorts, bold text is text happening out loud in the present*

★・・・・・・★

In the heart of a sleepy countryside, you stumble upon an old abandoned house, hidden amongst overgrown foliage. The place exudes an air of mystery and intrigue, beckoning you to explore its forgotten halls. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you venture inside, stepping cautiously over creaky floorboards and through dusty corridors.

As you roam the dilapidated rooms, a sense of nostalgia mixed with an eerie sensation settles upon you. Amidst the decay, you discover a faded, ornate frame hanging on the wall. Enclosed within the frame is a portrait of a strikingly beautiful young woman. Her long, dark brown hair cascades like silk down her shoulders, and she wears a resplendent white dress that seems to glow in the dim light. Her captivating eyes hold an enchanting allure that draws your gaze.

"Who could she be? And why is her portrait still here?"

Strangely, the woman in the portrait appears eerily lifelike, as though her eyes follow you around the room. You exchange puzzled glances, wondering who this mesmerizing figure might have been and why her picture adorns the wall of this abandoned place.

"It's as if she's watching me."

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a haunting twilight glow over the house, you can't resist investigating further. You delve deeper into the house's history, hoping to unravel the enigma surrounding the captivating woman in the portrait.

"I need to know more about this place and its history. There's something about her story that's pulling me in."

Through your research, you discover that the house belonged to a wealthy family from a bygone era. Legend has it that the young woman in the portrait is named Sana. She was said to have vanished mysteriously on the eve of her wedding, and her disappearance remains unsolved.

As you continue your relentless pursuit of the truth behind Sana's mysterious disappearance, the presence of the house becomes increasingly oppressive. The whispers grow louder, and shadows seem to dance in the corners of your vision. Every step feels heavy, as if an unseen force is trying to deter you from unveiling the secrets hidden within these walls.

Determined to unravel the mystery, you seek out the wisdom of the local historian, an elderly man named Park Jinyoung, known for his extensive knowledge of the town's history and legends. His eyes gleam with curiosity as you share your discoveries and the strange encounters with the portrait of Sana.

"Ah, young adventurer, you've stumbled upon a tale that has haunted this town for generations. The story of Sana is as tragic as it is enigmatic. Many have tried to decipher her fate, but the answers have always eluded us." He says.

You look at him with curious eyes. "Do you believe there's any truth to the legend? Could Sana's spirit still be lingering here?"

The older man strokes his white beard thoughtfully, his eyes distant with reminiscence. "There are some who claim to have witnessed strange occurrences, attributing them to Sana's restless spirit. Whether it's merely superstition or something more, I cannot say for certain. But there's no denying the house holds a peculiar energy, as if it yearns to reveal its secrets."

Your perk up a bit after his last few words. "I've seen her portrait. It's as if she's trying to communicate with me, calling for help."

"Ah yes,” He says. “The eyes of the departed can have a way of speaking to the living. They say the past and present sometimes intertwine in mysterious ways, especially in a place burdened by such history." 

Feeling a newfound sense of determination, you share your plans to uncover the truth and bring closure to Sana's spirit. "I won't rest until I find out what happened to her and give her the peace she deserves."

The man smiles but shakes his head. "A noble endeavor, my dear. But tread carefully, for some tales are better left undisturbed. The past can be a haunting place, and not all spirits welcome the intrusion of the living."

You nod, understanding the gravity of his advice. As you bid farewell to the wise historian, you carry with you a mix of trepidation and excitement. The weight of the mystery ahead is immense, but you are resolute in your quest for the truth. Armed with the knowledge you've gained and the support of those who believe in your cause, you set out to unravel the enigma surrounding Sana and the abandoned house. Little do you know that this journey will not only change the course of history for the town but also leave an indelible mark on your own soul.

★・・・・・・★

One stormy night, as lightning flashes through the broken windows, you find yourself standing before the haunting portrait of Sana. Her eyes seem to pierce through your very soul, and a chill runs down your spine. With trembling hands, you reach out to touch the portrait, and to your shock, it feels warm to the touch.

"This can't be real. But it is. It's like she's trying to communicate with me."

A shiver courses through your body as you realize that the boundary between the past and the present is blurring. The line that separates reality from the ethereal realm fades away, and Sana's spirit seems to merge with the world around you.

"Help me... find the truth..." Sana whispers to you

"Sana? Can you hear me? I'll do my best to help you, but I need to understand what happened." You yell.

Suddenly, you find yourself transported back in time, standing in a grand hall adorned with flickering candlelight. There, you witness a tragic scene unfolding before your eyes. Sana, in her resplendent white dress, stands frozen in fear as her jealous sister Momo confronts her, her face contorted with rage and envy. "You think you're so special, don't you? Well, you won't ruin my life with your beauty and charm!"

In a moment of sheer desperation, Momo’s anger escalates, and she raises her hand to strike Sana. The echo of the slap resounds through the hall, and you watch in horror as Sana stumbles backward, her head hitting the edge of a table.

"This can't be happening! I can't just stand by and watch." You say as you try to run toward Sana’s unmoving body. However, the world around you fades into darkness, and you feel an overwhelming sense of sorrow and injustice.

When you come to your senses, you find yourself back in the present, the storm still raging outside. The portrait of Sana now exudes a melancholic aura, and her eyes seem to be filled with unspoken pain. You realize that Sana's spirit is trapped within the confines of the house, unable to move on until her story is fully unraveled. With a heavy heart, you resolve to bring closure to Sana's tormented soul. Through your relentless efforts, you discover the truth about her tragic fate and confront her jealous sister’s descendants. As you reveal the long-concealed secrets, a profound sadness fills the air.

As you stand before the portrait of Sana once again, her once melancholic eyes now shimmer with gratitude. The atmosphere around you seems to shift, a soft glow enveloping her ethereal form. At that moment, the boundary between the past and present blurs once more, and Sana's spirit emerges from the painting, stepping out into the world before you.

Sana's voice, soft and resonant, fills the air as she speaks: "Thank you, kind soul, for releasing me from the shackles of time. Your unwavering dedication and compassion have brought solace to my restless spirit."

You're overcome with awe and humility, hardly able to find the words to respond. “Sana, it was an honor to help you find peace. You deserve to rest and be remembered for who you truly are."

Sana smiles, her face now a reflection of serenity and tranquility. "Though my journey here was fraught with sorrow, I am grateful for the light you've brought into this darkness. Remember, life is but a fleeting moment, and the echoes of our actions can resonate for eternity."

As her figure begins to fade, you reach out instinctively, trying to hold on to the moment.

You: "Goodbye, Sana. May your spirit find the happiness and serenity it deserves."

With a gentle touch, Sana's essence slowly dissipates back into the portrait. The soft glow recedes, and the atmosphere returns to normal. But the weight on your heart has lifted, replaced by a profound sense of fulfillment.

[casedoina]

Masterlist

Fate: Winx Series

Intertwining: Sky x Reader

Playing Games: Sky x Reader

The Sun Fades Series

Betrothed In Alfea

Twilight

Romeo and ... Cullen?! l series: Jacob Black x Cullen!Reader

The Imprint or The Blood Singer l series: Edward Cullen x Black!Reader

You're My Monster: Jasper Hale x Swan!reader

You're My Love: Jasper Hale x Swan!reader

You're My Major: Jasper Hale x Swan!reader

You're My Forever: Jasper Hale x Swan!reader

You're My Eternal Love: Edward Cullen x Reader

Adore You: Embry Call x Reader

Breathe In: Cullen Family x Reader

Sunday Shenanigans: Embry Call x Reader

The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Blacked Out: Kol Mikaelson x Reader

Cheater: Kol Mikaelson x Reader

Kol-Down: Kol Mikaelson x Reader

Hopeless: Klaus Mikaelson x Gilbert!reader

Imagine Meeting the Originals: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

The Secret of The Mikaselsons: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Ben Barnes

Y/N L/N and Ben Barnes being in Love for 10 minutes

In the Shadow of Your Heart: Billy Russo x Reader

Thirst Tweets: Ben Barnes x Reader

Draw Your Swords: Aleksander Morozova x Reader

Children of Sun and Darkness: The Darkling x Sun Summoner!Reader

The Weeklong Seminar Series

House Hunting: Billy Russo x Reader

Freezing: Ben Barnes x Reader

Used To Be: Darkling x Royal Wife Reader

Let Me Take Car of You: Ben Barnes x Reader

Narnia

The Faded Portrait of a Bygone Era: Prince Caspain x Reader

My Sweet Girl: Edmund Pevensie x Reader

The New Prophecy: Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Rewrite the Stars: Prince Caspain x Reader

Surprising Changes: Prince Caspain x Reader

Sliver Series: Caspain x Reader

Chicago

Control, Alt, Arrow: Greg 'Mouse' Gerwitz x Reader

Period Pains: Jay Halstead x Reader

When Have You Been: Jay Halstead x Reader

First Time: Jay Halstead x Reader

A Little Incentive: Jay Halstead x Reader

First Time: Matt Casey x Reader

Military Lovers: Jay Halstead x Reader

Outer Banks

I Know: JJ Maybank x Reader

Jealousy, Jealousy: JJ Maybank x Reader

Put the Pieces Back Together: JJ Maybank x Reader

Mistake: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Please Forgive Me: JJ Maybank x Reader

Kissing You: JJ Maybank x Reader

Kiss the Kook: John B Routledge X Reader

Unfixed: JJ Maybank x Reader

Good Morning Sunshine: JJ Maybank x Reader

Lucas Till

A New Start: Angus Macgyver x Reader

Shooter: Angus Macgyver x Reader

Yoga + Backyard Terrace: Angus Macgyver x Reader

Escape Plan: Angus Macgyver x Reader

You Matter To Me: Angus Macgyver x Reader

Badass: Angus Macgyver x Reader

Angus Macgvyer Imagine

Tom Holland

Secret Life: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Baby Bath, Baby Love: Tom Holland x Reader

By His Belt (Sweats): Tom Holland x Reader

Cool: Peter Parker x Reader

If We Were A Movie: Tom Holland x Reader

Shadowhunters

To Be Human: Alec x Reader

Betrayal: Jonathan Morgenstern x Reader

Linked: Jonathan Morgenstern x Reader

DC Comics

Abandoned: Tim Drake/Red Robin x Reader

He Likes Her: Wolf

Lantern: Connor Kent/Superboy x Reader

Starfire's Sister: Damian Wayne x Reader

Where You Belong: Damian Wayne x Reader

Pretty Girl: Damian Wayne x Reader

Space Heater: Damian Wayne x Reader

Superman's Daughter: Tim Drake x Kent!reader

Detective: Damian Wayne x Reader

Series

You Wake Up: Embry Call x Reader

Crazy, Rich, and They Hate Me: Jaehyun x Reader

Misc

Can You Keep Up?: Colby Brock x Reader

Faint: Colby Brock x Reader

A Lazy Saturday Morning: Jungkook Jeon x Reader

Running with Demons: Colby Brock x Reader

Breaking Free: Avengers x Reader

Home Sweet Home: Yeonjun Choi x Reader

In His Arms: Coby Brock x Reader

Like You: Yeonjun Choi x Reader

[oh-soo-diabolik]

untitled one shot

words: 2.1k will probably add more idk

Her hand grazes the handle of the large front door, twisting it open with a look of dissatisfaction; the door falls from its hinges, tipping over into the manor as she pushes it open. She sighs, practically hearing her card swipe once again.

‘Great, another thirty thousand plus yen I have to dish out’. [YN] wasn’t entirely sure why her aunt left such an old and unkempt estate in her name. Notably with only seventy-two million yen to her name; the renovations alone were going to cost half of that. [YN] knew she had no intentions of doing this project by herself, or in general at that.

If she had it her way, she would’ve sold the land for a hefty profit.

With her keys in hand, [YN] enters the ghoulish house; descending its long hallways, brushing her fingertips along its muted gray walls. With her hand to her face, she noticed a lack of dust. Her eyebrows cocked with confusion. “That's weird, it seems like someone’s been keeping the manor itself in expeditious condition, from the inside at least.’ she began to ponder. Something felt weird, unsettling even.

It was an uncomfortable feeling, one she couldn’t seem to shake. A fit of paranoia wrapped itself around her, coating her with fear . Her aunt’s bee Ghostly footsteps shuffle behind her, causing [YN] to turn and face the source of the sound. But there is nothing there to greet her. Undeterred, [YN] continues to ascend the halls of the manor. n dead for three years, so why was the house’s interior seemingly untouched by years of neglect?

Scanning the room and its contents in its entirety, she notices the portrait of a man with long snow-white hair and bright golden eyes, towering behind a woman and young boy with identical snow-like hair, the only difference seeming to be their crimson-colored eyes and the boy's expressions of uncertainty. The woman, who [YN] could only assume was the child’s mother, expresses a look of confusion and displacement.

“I wonder if auntie knew these people.” she mutters to herself. She reaches for the portrait, running her fingers along its golden embedded frame. Its rough edge penetrates her skin with a thin splitter of stain golden hide glue. Hissing in pain, she retacks her hand peering down at the small slither of hide embedded into her now sore finger. “Fuck, how old is this frame?”

As She gingerly removed the dagger-like protrusion from her finger, drops of crimson blood stained the polished wood beneath her. The pain slowly subsided, allowing her to gather her wits. Yet, as the metallic fragment clatter onto the floor, a chilling hush befell the room, briefly interrupted by the faint echo of footsteps behind her.

Turning towards the sound, her breath caught in her throat, her heart aflutter with trepidation. But there was a naught to greet her, save for the daunting void that enveloped the abandoned halls of the manor. A shiver ran down her spine, yet she refused to let her fear invade her resolve.

With unwavering determination, she proceeded up the labyrinthine corridors, their faded grandeur a testament to a bygone era. Cobwebs draped the portraits that lined the walls, veiling forgotten stories beneath a shroud of neglect.

As if someone intentionally left the stories to fade into the history itself, as if ashamed of its impact. And so, the portraits remained, untouched by the caretaker’s diligent hands. The house’s neglected condition only added to its air of mystery, causing [YN] to wonder what secrets it held.

Her eyes wander along the portraits, before coming to a halt, she stands in front of one particular picture. Her face expresses her disbelief upon seeing the snow-white haired man now standing alongside her aunt. [YN] questions the possibility of this being a mere coincidence, considering that the previous portraits of him were several centuries apart. Her aunt’s blonde hair and piercing sherbet eyes sent a shiver down her spine.

“Wait a minute, that’s not the same man.”

[YN] becomes suspicious as she notices that the man in the portrait is not the same person she expected. She narrows her eyes and approaches the portrait, realizing that it depicts the boy with striking red eyes instead of the golden-eyed man she unconsciously anticipated.

Perplexed, [YN] begins to wonder how such a thing could even be possible.

Studying the portrait, [YN] couldn’t help but become captivated by the man’s vibrant crimson eyes, drawn to his cold yet sad gaze. Her hands reach for the portrait, unmount it from the wall.

[YN] turns it over, opening the latches that keep it secured in its frame. Carefully, [YN] removes it and scans the back of it, reading the caption;

‘Master Sakamaki Subaru and Lady Yukimura Kome, nineteen thirty-seven.’

[YN] couldn't help but feel a mixture of curiosity and confusion as she held the photograph in her now sweaty hands.

The image showed the boy, no, the man with the crimson eyes and a woman, who she could only assume was her aunt Kome. However, what puzzled her the most was the fact that the photo seemed to have been taken decades before her supposed aunt’s birth.

The date printed on the photo, "Nineteen thirty-seven," kept drawing [YN]'s attention, practically taunting her.

The once serene air around her, now fills heavy with anxiety and panic. Grappling with the unknown and its uncertainty that accompanied it, something about this photograph groomed her with distress. As doubt began to creep into her thoughts, she couldn’t help but question if this was just another alabrite joke her aunt thought of on her deathbed.

A twisted and cruel joke.

But it was unimaginable that someone she trusted would play such a cruel and heartless trick on her, let alone the woman who raised her.

Though her aunt had always been a bit of a mischievous woman, she wouldn’t do such a thing, not in a time of grief nonetheless.

Her breath hitched as she felt a gentle gush of wind caress her cheek. The sudden aroma of woody musk and spice filled her nostrils, sending a shiver down her spine. It was as if nature whispered secrets into the air before wrapping her into its suffocating embrace. Her eyes close, allowing her to immerse into its comforting smell.

Turning her head, [YN] finds herself looking down the manor’s east wing. As she gazes down the seemingly endless corridor, a sense of curiosity washes over her. Taking a deep breath, she attempts to calm the fits of anxiety fluttering her chest.

The soft moonlight filters through the grande expansive windows, illuminating the polished floorboards with an inviting and soothing warmth. With a lump of anxiety in her throat, she carefully folds the photograph and slips it into her cardigan’s deep pockets. Mentally preparing herself, [YN] sets off down the halls, guided by its lingering woody aroma that permeates the air around her.

With each echoing step, she begins to ponder the previous life of the manor’s owners. She couldn’t help but wonder what they were like, what kind of family that walked these very halls she is now exploring. With a deep breath, she mutters to herself;

“Here goes nothing.”

In a state of unease, she stood within the dreary confines of the manor. Its walls, painted with a somber shade of gray. The eerie silence that enveloped the place, only seemed to intensify her feelings of insecurity.

Her footsteps echoed through the empty halls as she cautiously made her way forward. With her eyes bulging outward to a peculiar sight, a man no older than twenty-seven with blonde-hair falling messily over his forehead. She wasn’t entirely sure if she should be relieved that she wasn’t the only human presence or if she should be running towards the manor’s long broken exit.

In an attempt to gather the little courage she had, [YN] grabs an old vase that was conveniently placed to her left, in hopes this would be enough to save her from the possible outcome. She hesitantly steps towards the sleeping man. Eventually finding herself mere feets away from him, [YN] peers down towards the man’s pale-colored face.

"Hey you!" She called out to the man, trying to wake him up. She anxiously waited for his reply, but to no avail, he remained motionless on the couch. Holding onto the vase tightly, her grip becoming increasingly tight, she found the courage to call out to him once more. "Hey! You, on the couch, are you alive?".

As the words echoed through the room, a sense of urgency filled the air. The man's stillness was unnerving, his unmoving figure a cause for concern. With each passing second, her heart thumped louder, and her worry grew stronger. She wasn’t entirely sure what to do.

As [YN] took a step closer, her eyes scanned his face for any signs of life. The lines on his forehead remained undisturbed, his closed eyes betraying no flicker of consciousness. The room seemed to hold its breath, awaiting a response.

Startled by the man’s sudden awakening, [YN] dropped the vase without thinking, causing it to shatter on to the ground. She watches as the man’s tired eyes flutter open, revealing its bright-glaucous color.

“Who are you?” The man asked, glancing at her cowering figure with a look of annoyance, before a smirk formed on his face. “Well woman? Are you going to answer me?” He titled his head curiously, waiting for her response.

“I’m [YN] [LN].” She whispered, her voice trembling with fear and anxiety. Her cowering figure seemed to shrink even more under his cold hardened gaze. As if her very existence was nothing more than a burden. His stoic face only fueled her anxiety, making her shrink even more.

Her eyes begin to dart around the room, desperately seeking some form of a distraction, but to no avail, she shifts with anxiety. Her suffocating fragile ego did her no justice. [YN] knew she couldn't stand up against this intimidating man. Swallowing the lump of anxiety that strained her, she looked up to meet his gaze.

“I am the owner of this house, and you are not welcomed here. Now I advise you to leave before I call the police.” She sternly declares, “You don’t scare me.”

The man stands from the sofa, towering over her with an intimidating presence, he sniggers. “The owner? Last time I checked, this is my home and my couch. Who are you, little human” He hums with curiosity, as a smug grin plasters his pale face.

Her eyes widened with disbelief, as she struggles to comprehend the man’s antagonizing words. Who had died and made him king? For all she could know, he was a mere squatter, taking refuge in her home. She takes a deep breath, hoping to gather her thoughts and put them into words.

“Look, this house was left to me by my aunt Kome Yukimura.”

His chuckles turn into hearty laughter that echoes through the room around them. He was amused, truly amused at her sudden burst of courage. He wanted to see more of her sad attempts to control the environment around her. The man watches as her once cowering figure, stood tall with ‘courage’ and ‘bravery’.

“Kome? Yukimura? I heard of no such nam–oh, oh.”

Her eyebrows forward as she eagerly waits for his response, “What do you mean, ‘oh’? Did you know my aunt?” She spurs.

“I guess you can say that, but Subaru is the one to ask.” The blonde mutters as he sits down back on the sofa. “isn’t that right, Subaru?”

Her eyes scan the room around her, as her gaze stops on a man around twenty-four with snow-white colored hair, causing her breath to hitch. “The man with the snow-white hair and crimson eyes.” she mutters.

“Who is this woman, and why did you let her in, Shuu?” The man, dubbed ‘Subaru’, asked. He watches as the man, now dubbed Shuu, shrugs in response.

“I guess the scent of her blood piqued my curiosity.” Shuu says as a smirk tugs his lips.

“My blood?” [YN] mumbles as she eyes her pricked finger before turning to face Shuu. “How can you smell my blood? I merely pricked it back at the entrance.”

“Yet, the single droplet of your blood stains our floors.”

“Enough, I don’t feel like hearing you talk anymore, your voice is annoying me.” The voice of a third man interrupts the bickering trio.

A man with deep violet hair and tired looking violet eyes mutters with a frown plastering his face, he was surely no taller than five-six <Kanato>. “Who’s this?” he asked with a tilt to his head.

“Enough, why are you guys in this house? This house was left to me.” [YN] begins to panic, her eyes switching between the three men.

“Left to you? Who even are you!” The violet hair man hollers, his voice cracking with anger.

“I—I’m calling the police.” she says.

“That won’t be needed, I know who you are; you’re that woman’s niece. Though I can tell you didn’t get her looks.” Shuu grins.

“Why don’t we sit and talk about this?”

“Gladly.”

[th0ughtsblog]

Carmilla’s eternal love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s note: first time writing a fic😭

Words: 8K

!Do not copy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moonlit halls of Styria embraced an ethereal stillness, as if time itself had been suspended in the dance of shadows that played upon the cold stone walls. A haunting melody, carried by a gentle breeze, whispered secrets that seemed to echo through the centuries. In this enigmatic ambiance, you felt an irresistible pull, a magnetic force guiding you toward the heart of the castle's mystery.

As you stepped into the ancient corridors, the very air seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly energy. The towering spires of the castle loomed overhead, their grandeur a testament to centuries of history and hidden tales. Each stone, weathered by the passage of time, held a silent witness to the stories that unfolded within its formidable walls.

The creaking of floorboards beneath your feet resonated like a distant echo, as if the castle itself stirred from a long slumber, welcoming an unexpected visitor. It was as though the very stones, etched with the scars of time, harbored a secret longing to be unraveled by the curious soul that dared to venture into their depths.

The moon, a solitary guardian in the night sky, cast a silvery glow upon the intricate tapestries that adorned the walls. Their faded threads told tales of a bygone era, weaving a narrative of love, loss, and undying devotion. As you traced your fingers along the ancient fabric, you could almost feel the echoes of the past reverberating through the tapestry of time.

The air itself carried whispers—secrets of forgotten loves and silent sorrows. It was in this haunted symphony that you sensed the presence of something otherworldly, a force that transcended the boundaries of the mortal realm. It beckoned you further, urging you to explore the hidden chambers and concealed alcoves that held the castle's most guarded secrets.

In the embrace of the moonlit halls, you discovered a world where reality and fantasy blurred into a surreal tapestry. The flickering candlelight revealed portraits of long-forgotten faces, their eyes seeming to follow your every move with a spectral gaze. The castle, with its intricate architecture and centuries-old charm, became a living, breathing entity—a character in its own right, whispering tales of love and tragedy to those who would listen.

As you delved deeper into the labyrinthine corridors, an inexplicable warmth enveloped you. It was as if the very essence of the castle embraced your presence, acknowledging a kindred spirit that had long been absent from its hallowed halls. The journey became a dance, a rhythmic exchange between the seeker and the secrets that awaited discovery.

And there, in the heart of Styria's enigmatic embrace, you found yourself inexorably drawn to the mysterious figure of Carmilla. Her presence, like a shadow cast against the moonlit walls, embodied the very essence of the castle's secrets. The air crackled with anticipation as you ventured further, the grandeur of the ancient architecture heightening the allure of the immortal being that awaited your arrival.

Carmilla, the embodiment of dark allure and timeless beauty, possessed a magnetism that transcended the mortal realm. Her cascading dark curls framed a countenance that seemed sculpted by moonlight itself, an ethereal allure that left an indelible imprint on the recesses of your consciousness. Her piercing gaze, an enigmatic blend of mystery and desire, beckoned you into a world where shadows and secrets wove a delicate tapestry

As you wandered through the labyrinthine corridors of Styria's ancient castle, the air became thick with an electric tension, as if the very walls pulsated with the anticipation of an imminent encounter. Each step echoed in harmony with the rhythmic beat of your heart, as though the castle itself conspired to guide you toward a rendezvous with destiny.

In the midst of the moonlit symphony, a chance encounter unfolded like a carefully orchestrated dance. You turned a corner, and there she was—Carmilla, a vision of immortal beauty bathed in the soft glow of flickering candlelight. Her presence, both commanding and alluring, halted you in your tracks, a heartbeat suspended in time.

Her eyes, pools of obsidian depths, locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. There was an unspoken language in that gaze—a magnetic pull that transcended the boundaries of mere mortal connection. It was as though the universe itself had conspired to bring you face to face with the enigmatic vampire, the architect of the mysteries that lingered within the castle's ancient walls.

Carmilla's lips curled into a subtle yet enigmatic smile, a gesture that held the promise of secrets shared only between kindred spirits. The air crackled with an otherworldly energy as the two of you stood in a silent communion, the castle's timeless echoes amplifying the unspoken connection that unfolded in that fateful moment.

Her voice, a melodic cadence that echoed through the corridors, broke the silence. "I've watched you from the shadows," she confessed, the words carrying a weight of centuries-old longing. The admission hung in the air, a revelation that stirred the ancient stones and whispered tales of forbidden desires.

As the moon cast its silver glow upon Carmilla's porcelain skin, you felt the gravitational pull of a destiny that defied rationality. The labyrinthine corridors, once merely pathways through time and space, now bore witness to a cosmic dance—a dance between a mortal soul and an immortal being, entwined in a narrative that transcended the boundaries of mortality.

Her voice, a sultry whisper that traversed the boundaries between seduction and enchantment, sent shivers down your spine, awakening a dormant awareness of desires you had yet to comprehend. It was a melody that seemed to resonate with the very echoes of the castle's storied past, weaving a tapestry of mystery and intrigue that enveloped you in its ethereal embrace.

"There's something about you that calls to me," Carmilla confessed, her words hanging in the air like a secret spell, binding your fate to hers. The resonance of her voice echoed through the labyrinthine corridors, intertwining with the unseen threads of destiny that crisscrossed the castle's ancient stones.

From that moment on, your existence became a narrative intricately woven into the fabric of Carmilla's immortal tale. The enigmatic vampire, a living embodiment of centuries-old secrets, became both the guide and the gatekeeper to the mysteries that lay hidden within the castle's timeless walls.

As you delved deeper into the shadow-laden recesses of Styria, the castle unfolded its secrets with a deliberate and haunting grace. Whispers of forgotten whispers and echoes of bygone eras reverberated through the passages, each revelation a step closer to unraveling the enigma that was Carmilla.

The grand tapestries that adorned the walls seemed to come alive with spectral narratives, their faded threads narrating tales of love, betrayal, and the unquenchable thirst for immortality. Each stroke of your fingertips against the ancient fabric invoked a connection with the past, a communion with the spirits that had once roamed the castle's corridors.

The castle, like a living entity, began to divulge its guarded truths in cryptic whispers and elusive shadows. Carmilla, with her centuries of existence, became the key to deciphering the arcane language that resonated within the very foundations of Styria. Together, you and Carmilla embarked on a journey through the corridors of time, unraveling the enigma that bound her to the castle's haunted legacy.

The moon, an eternal witness to the unfolding drama, cast its silvery glow upon the tapestry of your shared quest for truth. Each night brought revelations that pushed the boundaries of mortal comprehension, as the connection between you and Carmilla deepened, transcending the mere curiosity that initially drew you together.

In the hallowed halls, where shadows danced with the echoes of the past, the truth about Carmilla emerged like a phoenix from the ashes. She, a creature of the night, bore witness to the eons that had passed, and you, a mortal soul, became the catalyst for the redemption she had sought through the ages.

The castle's secrets, unveiled through the lens of Carmilla's confessions and the spectral whispers of those long gone, painted a portrait of a love story entangled with the darker threads of history. The enigma of the vampire, once a looming specter, now stood before you, vulnerable and exposed, as the castle's timeless embrace cradled the unfolding narrative of your shared destiny.

Despite the palpable danger that lurked within the castle's ancient walls, an undeniable connection began to weave its way through the fabric of your shared existence with Carmilla. It was a connection born from the silent echoes of centuries, a forbidden dance between a mortal soul and an immortal being, set against the haunting backdrop of shadows and secrets.

The interlude between you and Carmilla unfolded like a delicate symphony, a passionate dance that defied the constraints of morality and reason. Each stolen moment, hidden in the recesses of the castle's labyrinthine corridors, added a new layer to the intricate tapestry of your burgeoning love.

One fateful evening, as the moon cast its enchanting glow upon the courtyard, the air thick with a tension that mirrored the anticipation of an impending storm, you found yourselves standing together in a silent communion. The world around you seemed to fade away, swallowed by the encroaching darkness, leaving only the two of you suspended in a moment pregnant with unspoken desires.

In that moonlit courtyard, where every stone held the weight of centuries and every shadow whispered tales of the past, Carmilla closed the distance between you. The anticipation hung in the air like a tangible force, a magnetic pull that drew you closer until your breaths became synchronized in a wordless exchange.

With a languid grace, Carmilla leaned in, her eyes reflecting the glow of the moon as her lips met yours in a gentle yet electrifying kiss. It was a collision of mortal warmth and immortal coolness, a union that sent ripples through the very fabric of your being. The castle itself seemed to sigh in acknowledgment, as though it bore witness to a love that defied the laws of existence.

As the kiss deepened, time became a mere illusion, and the boundaries that separated your worlds dissolved into the vast expanse of eternity. It was a moment frozen in the tapestry of time, a testament to the undeniable pull between you and the vampire who had stolen not just your breath but your heart as well.

The moon overhead bathed you in its silvery glow, casting a romantic hue upon the clandestine exchange. The courtyard, once a silent witness to centuries of untold stories, now bore witness to a love that dared to challenge the very essence of immortality.

The kiss, a promise of love and desire that transcended the mortal coil, left an indelible mark upon your souls. It was a declaration written in the language of passion, a whispered covenant that echoed through the ancient stones of Styria. In that moment, you and Carmilla became entwined in a love story that transcended the boundaries of time and mortality—a love story that would endure, echoing through the corridors of the castle for centuries to come.

As the days melted seamlessly into nights within the timeless embrace of Styria's walls, your love for Carmilla burgeoned like the most exquisite bloom, unfurling its petals in the moonlit corridors. The castle, once a bastion of solitude, now bore witness to a love that flourished despite the shadows that clung to its ancient stones.

Stolen moments became the currency of your affection, exchanged in hidden alcoves where the castle's secrets seemed to converge. It was in these secluded corners, veiled from the prying eyes of the outside world, that the narrative of your love story unfolded with a delicate grace.

Whispers of affection and laughter echoed through the stones, their ancient surfaces becoming the silent confidants to the intimacy that thrived in the shadows. The air, thick with the weight of centuries, carried the tender melodies of your shared moments, intertwining with the very essence of the castle that cradled your burgeoning love.

A tender touch, an exploration of fingertips tracing the contours of each other's skin, became a language unto itself—a silent dialogue of passion that spoke volumes in the unspoken cadence of love. The castle's ancient stones bore witness to the imprint of your connection, absorbing the warmth of each caress and etching it into the very core of Styria's storied history.

In those stolen moments, the world outside the castle ceased to exist, and the only reality that mattered was the one cocooned within its time-worn walls. The shadows, once harbingers of mystery, now served as the backdrop to the tableau of your shared affections—a testament to the transformative power of love within the darkest recesses of the unknown.

A lingering gaze, charged with the intensity of an unspoken promise, became a beacon that guided you through the maze of uncertainty. Carmilla's eyes, pools of depth and mystery, held the reflections of a love that transcended the boundaries of the mortal realm. Each gaze exchanged was a pledge, an affirmation that your hearts beat in unison within the castle's echoing halls.

The moonlit courtyard, once a witness to your electrifying kiss, became a stage for the ongoing symphony of your love. Beneath the celestial glow, you and Carmilla reveled in stolen glances and shared laughter, as if the very air itself conspired to amplify the joy of your connection.

The alcoves and hidden corners of Styria became your sanctuary, a sacred space where time stood still and the world outside was forgotten. The ancient walls, bearing the weight of secrets and centuries, became the canvas upon which your love story unfolded—a masterpiece painted with stolen moments and whispered confessions.

As the castle breathed with the rhythm of your shared existence, the tendrils of your love story extended beyond the temporal confines of night and day. In the alcoves, where shadows danced to the rhythm of your hearts, you and Carmilla carved an eternal refuge—an immortal testament to the enduring power of love within the heart of Styria's ancient embrace.

As the evening draped Styria in a tapestry of twilight hues, you and Carmilla found yourselves seated by the flickering fire in a chamber adorned with ancient tapestries and worn leather-bound books. The soft crackle of flames provided a comforting symphony, casting warm, dancing shadows that painted the room in an intimate glow.

Carmilla's presence, once veiled in an air of enigmatic allure, now emanated a warmth that transcended the coldness of her immortal existence. The grand fireplace, adorned with ornate carvings and centuries of history, seemed to acknowledge the transformative power of your connection.

The silence between you and Carmilla was a poignant prelude to the revelation that awaited, as the flames flickered in time with the gentle rhythm of your intertwined fingers. Her eyes, pools of obsidian depth, met yours with a sincerity that melted the barriers of time and immortality. In that shared gaze, you glimpsed the vulnerability that lingered beneath the veneer of a centuries-old existence.

"I never thought I could feel this way," Carmilla confessed, her voice a melodic cadence that resonated with the ancient walls. The admission, a revelation that echoed through the hallowed halls, carried the weight of centuries—a testament to the transformative power your presence had wrought upon her immortal heart.

The flickering flames cast shadows that danced upon Carmilla's features, illuminating the contours of a face that bore witness to eons. As her confession hung in the air, the realization of the depth of your connection became palpable—a cosmic shift in the tides of eternity that bound the two of you together.

Her fingers intertwined with yours, creating a tactile connection that transcended the ethereal. The touch, a fusion of warmth and coolness, symbolized the union of mortal and immortal—a bridge between worlds that had once seemed insurmountable. The castle, with its silent walls and ancient secrets, bore witness to this intimate exchange, a moment that resonated through the annals of time. "But with you, everything has changed," Carmilla continued, her words like a promise etched in the air. The acknowledgment of transformation hung in the flickering shadows, a declaration that reverberated through the very core of Styria's foundations.

The firelight flickered, casting an ever-changing mosaic of warmth upon the room—a visual manifestation of the metamorphosis that had taken place within Carmilla's immortal heart. The chamber, once a silent spectator to centuries of solitude, now bore witness to a love that defied expectations and rewrote the narrative of Carmilla's existence.

In that intimate moment, surrounded by the whispers of flames and the ancient echoes of Styria, you and Carmilla sat at the nexus of a love story that transcended time itself. The flickering fire became a silent witness to the revelation, its warm embrace mirroring the transformative power of the love that had blossomed between a mortal soul and an immortal being.

The castle, with its towering spires that reached towards the heavens, stood as a sentinel against the backdrop of the Styrian night. Once a symbol of haunting solitude, its ancient stones bore the weight of centuries, holding within their depths the whispered secrets of the countless souls who had crossed its threshold. Yet, as the moon cast its silvery glow upon the weathered façade, the castle transformed into a silent witness to a love story that unfolded within its timeless embrace.

The grandeur of Styria's stronghold, which had once resonated with the melancholy echoes of isolation, now became the canvas upon which the masterpiece of your love with Carmilla was painted. The very air within the castle seemed to shimmer with the newfound energy of passion, as if the walls themselves exhaled a sigh of relief, grateful for the respite from the centuries of solitude they had borne witness to.

As you and Carmilla traversed the labyrinthine corridors, the stones seemed to pulse with a quiet joy, their silent echoes attuned to the cadence of your shared footsteps. The castle's grand halls, once echoes of desolation, now bore the imprint of a love that defied expectations—a symphony of whispers that spoke of the transformative power of connection.

Hidden alcoves and forgotten chambers became the sanctuaries where your love flourished, each tender touch and stolen kiss etching its mark upon the very stones that had stood sentinel through the ages. The castle's secrets, once shrouded in a veil of mystery, now unfolded in a harmonious dance with the narrative of your shared affection

The moonlit courtyard, where your first electrifying kiss had transpired, became a sacred space that bore witness to the continued blossoming of your love. The ancient stones seemed to absorb the very essence of your connection, as if they themselves were entangled in the passion that unfolded beneath the celestial glow.

The walls, adorned with portraits of long-forgotten faces and ancient tapestries that told tales of love and loss, now held the memories of your shared moments. The castle's chambers, once silent witnesses to centuries of solitude, resonated with the laughter and whispers that echoed through the ages—a chorus of joy that permeated the very essence of Styria.

The gardens, once overgrown with thorns and neglect, now flourished with the vibrant colors of blossoms that mirrored the vividness of your love. The air within the courtyard carried the sweet fragrance of flowers, intermingled with the intoxicating aroma of passion—a sensory symphony that accompanied the unfolding chapters of your shared love story.

As the days turned into nights and the seasons cycled through their eternal dance, the castle stood as a testament to the resilience of love. The shadows that had once clung to the ancient stones now seemed to retreat, chased away by the warmth of your shared affection. The very foundations of Styria, which had borne witness to centuries of solitude, now cradled the love story that had rewritten its own history.

In the tapestry of time, where each thread represented a moment shared between you and Carmilla, the castle emerged as a living entity—a witness, a participant, and a silent guardian to the enduring power of a love that had blossomed within its hallowed halls. The grand spires, once symbols of isolation, now reached towards the heavens as if acknowledging the cosmic significance of the love story that had unfolded beneath their towering presence.

As the moon cast its gentle glow upon Styria, you and Carmilla found solace beneath the soft covers of the grand canopy bed, tucked away in the confines of a chamber adorned with tapestries that bore witness to centuries of history. The world outside the castle walls seemed to fade into obscurity, leaving only the sanctuary of your shared haven, where time itself appeared to stand still.

Carmilla's cool touch, like a silken caress against the warmth of your skin, became a soothing balm that transcended the boundaries of mere physical contact. The grandeur of the bed, draped in rich fabrics and surrounded by the echoes of a forgotten time, cradled the intimate cocoon where the outside world held no sway.

The gentle rhythm of Carmilla's heartbeat, a melodic echo that resonated with the very heartbeat of Styria, echoed in perfect sync with yours. The duet of heartbeats, entwined in a cosmic dance, became a symphony that serenaded the intimacy shared within the confines of your hidden sanctuary.

As your fingers traced patterns on Carmilla's pale skin, the world beyond the castle walls became a distant memory. The soft covers, enveloping the two of you in their embrace, bore witness to the delicate choreography of your shared affection—a dance of fingertips that spoke the unspoken language of love.

Carmilla, her dark curls cascading like a silken waterfall, leaned in with a languid grace. Soft kisses, a fusion of coolness and warmth, became the currency of your shared moments. Each kiss, an exploration of eternity, held the essence of a timeless love that transcended the mortal constraints of time.

The taste of eternity lingered on your lips, a lingering reminder of the boundless nature of your connection. The moon, a silent witness to your clandestine exchanges, bathed the chamber in a celestial glow, adding an ethereal quality to the intimate tableau that unfolded beneath its watchful gaze.

In the quietude of the chamber, the outside world seemed to disappear, leaving only the intimate exchange between you and Carmilla. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows upon the tapestries, as if the very walls themselves were animated by the dance of your love.

As you continued to trace patterns on Carmilla's skin, the air became charged with a palpable electricity—a manifestation of the undeniable chemistry that existed between you. The canopy bed, once a mere piece of furniture, now cradled the essence of your shared love, the soft covers absorbing the whispers of affection that painted the air with a delicate fragrance.

In this hidden refuge, where the world outside seemed to dissolve into oblivion, you and Carmilla created a timeless haven—a haven where the cool touch of an immortal being and the warmth of mortal affection melded into a harmonious embrace. The grand canopy bed, draped in the echoes of forgotten tales, became the stage for a love story that unfolded in the quiet moments of the night, beneath the watchful gaze of the moon and the hallowed walls of Styria.

In the cocoon of those intimate moments, Styria's ancient castle transformed into a haven where the burdens of immortality and the haunting echoes of the past dissipated like morning mist beneath the touch of the sun. As you and Carmilla embraced the sanctity of your love, the once-imposing stones now cradled the tender vulnerability of your whispered confessions and the effervescent melody of shared laughter.

The weight of immortality, which had hung like an invisible shroud over Carmilla's existence, lifted in the sanctuary of your shared love. The grandeur of the castle's architecture, once a reminder of the centuries that had witnessed Carmilla's solitary journey, now stood as a witness to the transformative power of your connection—a testament to the resilience of love against the backdrop of eternity.

Your whispered confessions, delicate admissions of love and longing, reverberated through the ancient halls like a whispered incantation. The tapestries, bearing silent witness to the tales of the past, now absorbed the essence of your shared moments, as if the very fabric of history was woven with the threads of your love. The echoes of your words intertwined with the spectral murmurs of those who had come before, creating a haunting symphony that echoed through the corridors of time.

Shared laughter, a celebration of the present moment, danced through the castle's halls like playful spirits. The grandeur of Styria's architecture, once a silent witness to the weight of history, now resonated with the joyous echoes of your shared mirth. Each laugh became a brushstroke on the canvas of time, painting the ancient stones with the vibrant hues of a love that defied the somber tones of the past.

As you and Carmilla reveled in the tender embrace of each other's company, the castle walls seemed to absorb the very essence of your connection. The grand halls, once solemn with the weight of secrets, now vibrated with the harmonious notes of your shared love—a symphony that echoed through the very stones that had witnessed centuries of solitude.

The flickering candlelight, casting an ethereal glow upon the chamber's rich tapestries, became a metaphor for the transient nature of your stolen moments. The shadows, once harboring the secrets of the castle, now danced in rhythm with the laughter and whispered confessions, creating a visual ode to the transcendent power of love within the heart of Styria.

In this haven, where time itself seemed to waltz to the melody of your shared affection, the castle became not just a dwelling of ancient history but a living testament to the transformative nature of love. The grand archways, the worn steps, and the silent corners bore witness to a love story that rewrote the narrative of Carmilla's immortal existence—an existence that, in the soft embrace of your whispered confessions and shared laughter, found solace in the sanctuary of a timeless haven.

With the passage of seasons, the nature of your love with Carmilla underwent a metamorphosis, each phase mirroring the ebb and flow of your shared romance within the timeless confines of Styria. Spring emerged as a harbinger of renewal, its arrival heralded by blossoms that unfolded in delicate homage to the blooming tapestry of your love. The castle, once adorned with the quietude of winter, now witnessed the vibrant resurgence of life that mirrored the burgeoning emotions between you and Carmilla.

The arrival of spring breathed new life into the ancient grounds, and the castle's courtyard became a canvas painted with the hues of blossoming flowers. The air, infused with the fragrant promise of love, carried the symphony of nature's awakening. In this season of renewal, your love with Carmilla unfolded like the petals of a delicate flower, each moment a testament to the beauty that blossomed within the sanctuary of Styria.

As the warmth of summer enveloped the castle in its embrace, the nights became a canvas for stolen kisses beneath the celestial expanse of stars. The grand courtyard, once a witness to centuries of solitude, now bore witness to the celestial dance of your shared affection. The echoes of whispered confessions and the tender touch of intertwined fingers resonated through the warm summer nights, creating a sonnet of love that serenaded the cosmos itself.

Autumn arrived, its crisp air carrying the promise of forever as the leaves began to don their fiery hues. The castle, draped in the rich colors of the changing season, became a backdrop for your love story's crescendo. The ancient stones, now kissed by the amber glow of autumnal sunlight, absorbed the essence of commitment that lingered in the crisp air. Each rustling leaf seemed to echo the whispered promises exchanged between you and Carmilla, as if the very earth itself celebrated the enduring nature of your connection.

Winter descended upon Styria with a quiet grace, its snowflakes adorning the castle in a silent blanket of serenity. The world beyond the ancient walls transformed into a wintry wonderland, creating a magical backdrop for your unfolding love story. The soft glow of candlelight and the warmth of shared embraces became a beacon of light within the winter's embrace, turning the castle into a haven of intimacy against the backdrop of the snow-laden landscape.

The snow-covered spires, once looming in stark solitude, now stood as sentinels to a love that had weathered the changing seasons. The courtyard, blanketed in pristine white, bore witness to the footprints of your shared journey, etching a story of endurance and resilience upon the wintry canvas. In the silent beauty of winter, your love with Carmilla found a timeless sanctuary, untouched by the passage of time.

In the tapestry of seasons, where each change symbolized a chapter in your love story, Styria became not only a witness to the metamorphosis of your romance but an active participant in the dance of love that unfolded within its hallowed halls. The castle, adorned with the imprints of changing seasons, embraced the ever-evolving nature of your love with Carmilla—a love that mirrored the beauty and resilience found in the cyclical rhythm of nature itself.

As the tendrils of love wove a rich tapestry in the heart of Styria, so too did the shadows of the past stretch their fingers, threatening to cast a looming veil over the newfound happiness between you and Carmilla. The castle, once a haven of love, echoed with the ghostly whispers of an ancient curse that had clung to Carmilla's existence for centuries. In the delicate dance of your shared affection, a formidable adversary emerged—an age-old curse that sought to challenge the resilience of your love.

The curse, like a specter from a bygone era, had long woven its dark threads into the very fabric of Carmilla's immortal existence. As your love flourished, the shadows of this malevolent enchantment manifested, threatening to unravel the delicate threads of your shared happiness. The castle, once a witness to the blossoming romance, now bore witness to the complexities that entwined the present with the echoes of a haunting history.

Together, you and Carmilla faced the challenges that the curse hurled at your path. The ancient stones of Styria, steeped in the weight of centuries, became silent observers to the resilience of a love that refused to be ensnared by the shackles of fate. The walls, which had borne witness to countless trials, now resonated with the determination to rewrite the tragic ending that history had seemingly dictated.

Adversaries, both tangible and metaphysical, emerged from the shadows, challenging the fortitude of your bond. The corridors that had once echoed with the laughter of shared moments now reverberated with the clash of wills—the indomitable spirit of your love confronting the looming specter of a curse that sought to extinguish the flame of your shared happiness.

In the face of adversity, your love with Carmilla became a poignant saga of resilience and defiance. Each challenge, a crucible that tested the mettle of your connection, brought forth the strength that lay at the core of your shared affection. The castle, a silent witness to the unfolding drama, stood as a metaphor for the endurance of love against the relentless currents of history.

The nights, once filled with stolen kisses beneath the stars, now became battlegrounds where the clash between love and curse played out. The moonlit courtyard, where once the symphony of your shared love echoed, now bore witness to the struggle for a future unburdened by the shadows of the past.

Yet, amidst the trials, the commitment between you and Carmilla strengthened. Each challenge, rather than being a harbinger of despair, became a crucible that forged an unbreakable bond. The castle's stones, engraved with the echoes of your determination, absorbed the essence of your shared resolve—a resolve that refused to let the ancient curse dictate the trajectory of your love story.

As you faced the shadows of the past, a narrative of redemption unfolded within Styria's hallowed halls. The curse, once an insurmountable obstacle, now became a catalyst for transformation. The castle, a witness to the resilience of love, bore witness to the rewriting of a tragic destiny—an affirmation that, against all odds, love could conquer even the darkest specters of history.

In the crucible of adversity, the love between you and Carmilla didn't just endure—it flourished and deepened, forging an unbreakable bond that defied the relentless currents of fate. The castle, once a silent spectator to the unfolding drama of your romance, now bore witness to the crescendo of passion and resilience that unfolded within its ancient walls.

In those moments of adversity, your love became a beacon of strength, a testament to the transformative power of unwavering commitment. The grandeur of Styria, with its towering spires and timeless echoes, stood as a symbol of the indomitable spirit that fueled your shared determination to overcome the shadows of the past.

Passion, like a tempest swirling within the castle's chambers, became an intimate dance that mirrored the tumultuous journey you and Carmilla embarked upon. The tapestries, once adorned with faded tales of love and loss, now absorbed the vibrant hues of your shared affections, weaving a narrative of resilience against the backdrop of an impending storm.

Longing, a poignant undercurrent that threaded through the fabric of your connection, manifested in stolen glances and lingering touches. The corridors, once witnesses to the clash between love and curse, now echoed with the whispered promises and shared desires that bridged the gap between mortality and immortality.

As adversity sought to cast its looming shadow over your love, each kiss became a declaration of defiance—an act of rebellion against the looming threat that sought to tear you apart. Lips met with a fervor that transcended the boundaries of mortal comprehension, the intensity of your connection a beacon of rebellion against the forces that sought to unravel the tapestry of your shared affection.

The moonlit courtyard, where once stolen kisses had blossomed beneath the celestial glow, now became the stage for an ongoing drama of love and defiance. The moon, an eternal witness to your shared journey, cast its silvery light upon the castle's stones, illuminating the passion that coursed through your veins as if to affirm the timeless nature of your love.

Each kiss, a fusion of mortal warmth and immortal coolness, left an indelible mark upon the narrative of your love story. The castle's ancient stones absorbed the echoes of defiance, etching into its very foundations the tale of two souls determined to rewrite their destiny.

In the face of adversity, your love evolved into a force that could not be subdued. The chambers, where once the echoes of conflict resounded, now vibrated with the harmonious cadence of shared affection—a melody that echoed through the castle's halls, drowning out the whispers of the past.

Through passion, longing, and the defiant exchange of kisses, you and Carmilla navigated the tempest that threatened to unravel your love. The castle, once a silent witness to centuries of solitude, now became a living testament to the transformative power of love—a power that not only defied adversity but also reshaped the very fabric of Styria's ancient history.

The castle, once an imposing prison of despair, underwent a metamorphosis—a silent witness to the triumphant crescendo of love over the looming shadows of darkness. The grandeur of Styria's architecture, which had once echoed with the melancholy sighs of solitude, now vibrated with the harmonious notes of victory, each stone bearing the weight of a history rewritten by the enduring power of love.

The looming curse, a specter that had cast its dark veil over Carmilla's immortal existence for centuries, now crumbled in the face of your shared resilience. The corridors, once haunted by the echoes of a tragic destiny, now resonated with the exultant symphony of liberation—a melody that heralded the breaking of chains that had bound Carmilla to a perpetual cycle of darkness.

The castle, with its towering spires and ancient stones, bore witness to the triumphant exodus from the shadows. The walls that had once trapped Carmilla's soul now reverberated with the echoes of newfound freedom, the very air infused with the heady scent of victory against the forces that sought to quell the flame of your shared love.

As the curse shattered like fragile glass, the moonlit courtyard, where your love story had unfolded in clandestine whispers and stolen kisses, now became the stage for the grand finale of redemption. The celestial glow bathed the scene in a soft radiance, illuminating the triumph that danced in your eyes and Carmilla's, as you emerged hand in hand from the ordeal that had tested the very fabric of your connection.

The castle transformed into a haven where echoes of joy replaced the haunting whispers of the past. The chambers, once steeped in the weight of centuries, now exhaled a collective sigh of relief—a cathartic release that mirrored the liberation of Carmilla's soul from the clutches of an ancient curse.

The tapestries, which had borne witness to tales of sorrow and despair, now depicted scenes of victory and love. The walls seemed to absorb the essence of the transformation, as if the very foundations of the castle itself celebrated the breaking of the shackles that had held Carmilla captive for far too long.

As you and Carmilla stood on the precipice of a new era, the castle embraced the promise of a future where eternity held the radiant glow of enduring love. The courtyard, once the setting for clandestine rendezvous, now became a sacred space where the echoes of triumph lingered, an eternal reminder of the power that love wielded in the face of darkness.

The spires, once symbols of isolation, now reached towards the heavens as if acknowledging the cosmic significance of the victory. The castle's stones, imprinted with the footsteps of history, now bore witness to a love story that defied destiny and rewrote the narrative etched in the annals of Styria's ancient history.

In the tapestry of time, your love story became an indelible chapter—a testament to the enduring power of love over the most formidable adversaries. Styria, once a prison of despair, now stood as a monument to the resilience of love—a beacon that shone brightly against the backdrop of a celestial canvas, promising a future where the triumph of love over darkness echoed through the corridors of eternity.

You and Carmilla found yourselves standing beneath the enchanting glow of the moonlit sky, the celestial orbs bearing witness to the culmination of a love story that had transcended the constraints of time. The castle, which had once stood as a fortress shrouded in mystery and sorrow, underwent a metamorphosis, its ancient stones now radiant with the warmth of your shared laughter and the undying joy of a love that had defied every conceivable odd.

The moon, casting its ethereal light upon the courtyard where your love had unfolded like a delicate tapestry, seemed to applaud the victory of your enduring connection. Its silvery glow illuminated the scene, turning the ancient stones into a reflective canvas that mirrored the celestial celebration of a love that had conquered not only the shadows of the past but also the very essence of time itself.

The echoes of your love story, like a haunting melody, reverberated through the corridors of the castle. The walls, once privy to tales of despair and solitude, now bore witness to the transformative power of a love that had rewritten the destiny inscribed in the very fabric of Styria's history. The air within the courtyard was filled with the whispers of triumph, as if the castle itself exhaled a sigh of relief, liberated from the shackles of its own haunting past.

As you and Carmilla stood together, the grand courtyard transformed into a sacred space where the echoes of your shared love lingered in the air. The spires, once veiled in the enigma of the unknown, now reached towards the heavens with a newfound luminosity, as if infused with the radiance of your triumphant love story. The very architecture of Styria seemed to dance with the vibrations of joy, the centuries-old stones vibrating with the resonance of a love that had blossomed within their ancient embrace.

Under the moonlit sky, the final chapters of your tale unfolded with a poignant beauty. The castle, now bathed in the silvery glow, stood as a living testament to the triumph of love over adversity. The courtyard, once a stage for clandestine encounters and whispered confessions, became a sanctuary where the echoes of your shared laughter intertwined with the gentle rustling of the night breeze—a harmonious symphony that underscored the conclusion of your epic journey.

The warmth of your shared laughter permeated the air, creating an atmosphere of pure elation that reverberated through the very core of Styria. The courtyard, once burdened with the weight of secrets, now bore witness to the joyous dance of your spirits—a celebration that echoed through the archways and alcoves, infusing every corner with the vibrant energy of your enduring love.

As the moon continued its celestial ballet, casting a silvery sheen upon your figures, the castle's transformation from a bastion of mystery and sorrow to a sanctuary of laughter and love became complete. The stars, like celestial spectators, twinkled in approval, illuminating the grand tapestry of your shared triumph against the cosmic backdrop of the night.

With hands entwined, you and Carmilla stood at the threshold of eternity, facing the horizon that stretched before you like an infinite canvas awaiting the strokes of destiny. The moonlit sky, a celestial tapestry that bore witness to the chapters of your love story, cast its silvery glow upon the landscape, illuminating the path that unfolded before you. The world beyond the castle's confines blurred into obscurity, leaving only the palpable certainty of your entwined love and the shimmering promise of a future where the lingering shadows of the past could no longer cast their haunting touch.

The courtyard, once a stage for the trials and triumphs of your love, now became a sacred space where the echoes of your shared journey lingered. The ancient stones beneath your feet seemed to pulse with the energy of centuries, absorbing the essence of your connection and reflecting it back in a dance of luminescence. As you and Carmilla faced the horizon, the castle's spires soared majestically, reaching towards the heavens with an enduring strength that mirrored the resilience of your immortal love.

The moon, a silent witness to the eternal vows exchanged between you and Carmilla, cast its gentle radiance upon the landscape. Each silver beam seemed to carry the whispers of a promise—a promise that transcended the boundaries of mortal existence, a promise that your love would endure through the ages, a promise that the future held untold chapters of joy and unity.

The air, filled with the fragrance of blooming blossoms and the echoes of your shared triumph, enveloped you in a cocoon of serenity. The world beyond the castle's walls, with its complexities and uncertainties, blurred into insignificance, leaving only the presence of your interconnected souls against the backdrop of the celestial night. The courtyard, once steeped in mystery and sorrow, now radiated with the warmth of your shared laughter and the vibrant energy of a love that had overcome every obstacle in its path.

With each heartbeat, you and Carmilla embraced the unfolding future, ready to navigate the uncharted seas of eternity hand in hand. The moonlit sky, with its celestial ballet of stars, a saga where love stood as an immortal beacon, a constant in the ever-changing tapestry of existence.

In this moment, under the moonlit sky, the castle and its surroundings became a sacred witness to the eternal promise you and Carmilla made to each other. The world outside blurred, leaving only the boundless expanse of love and the certainty that, together, you were ready to face whatever eternity had in store for your immortal love story.

In this sacred union, the castle and its surroundings transformed into a sanctuary where the eternal dance of your love unfolded. The whispers of the past became hymns of celebration, a chorus that echoed through the tapestry of eternity. As you and Carmilla ventured forth, hand in hand, the journey became a pilgrimage through the sacred realms of love—a journey that promised not only a shared future but an immortal legacy that would resonate through the ages.

[jadegretz]

Elysian Nightfall with Vampirella by Jade Gretz

In the heart of the darkened city, where shadows clung to the ancient architecture like ghostly tapestries, Vampirella found herself haunted by an unsettling revelation—a whisper from the echoes of her own past that beckoned her to unearth the secrets of her origin. The streets, usually prowled by the supernatural denizens of the night, now felt unusually silent as she traced the cryptic threads that led her to a forgotten corner of the city.

Vampirella stood before an abandoned mansion, its facade weathered by the passage of centuries. The air, thick with a foreboding stillness, seemed to bear witness to the memories that clung to the timeworn bricks. The mansion, a relic of an era long past, resonated with a supernatural energy that sent shivers down Vampirella's spine.

Driven by an insatiable curiosity, Vampirella crossed the threshold, the creaking door opening to reveal a grand foyer that echoed with the whispers of bygone eras. Dust-covered furniture and faded portraits adorned the walls, each telling a tale of a family that had long since faded into the annals of history. As she delved deeper into the mansion's recesses, a sense of déjà vu enveloped her—a feeling that these halls held a resonance with her own immortal existence.

Descending into a dimly lit cellar, Vampirella discovered a chamber concealed behind a heavy, cobweb-laden curtain. In the center of the room lay an ancient tome, bound in leather that had weathered the ages. The pages, yellowed with time, bore an inscription in a language that resonated with the vampiric echoes in her soul.

With each turned page, Vampirella unveiled the dark chapters of her origin—a bloodline cursed by a vengeful force that sought retribution for sins committed in a time long forgotten. The cursed bloodline, entwined with ancient rituals and eldritch pacts, manifested in each descendant with a burden that transcended the mere thirst for blood.

As Vampirella delved into the familial tapestry that unfolded before her, she discovered the existence of a progenitor—an ancestor whose actions had catalyzed the curse that now threatened her existence. The …(see the rest of the story at deviantart.com/jadegretzAI). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)

[baeshijima]

- For King and Country(nsfw but like its easy to skip over😒 and not much of)

- Pureheart

- A Recipe For Love

- The Faded Portrait of a Bygone Era

All of these are on ao3 and the person who wrote For King and Country is in the process of a new caspian fic which i already adore!!

BDJDJD TYSM NONNIE UR A LIFESAVER I SWEAR 😭💖

@rengokufrenzy LOOK

[timespakistan]

In praise of a page | Art & Culture No Pakistani artist has deserved a monograph as much as Meher Afroz. Not only because she is one of the leading names in Pakistani art, but also because her work is heavily embedded into the book; thus, a book on her art is a well-awaited homage, made possible by Le Tropical Pvt Ltd. Besides its editor, Nilofur Farrukh, 15 other contributors are included in A Beautiful Despair: The Art and Life of Meher Afroz, published in 2020. A book, rather a page, is essential in Meher Afroz’s art for several reasons. The immediate one is her background as a printmaker (highlighted by Romilla Kareem in her text, Between Metal and Paper: Works of a Master Printmaker). Mehr Afroz, at the beginning of her career in Pakistan, was recognised primarily as a printmaker, winning an award in the category from 1977 to 1985, at the National Exhibitions held in Islamabad. To some this aspect of her art practice may sound like a minor detail, but her early exposure to the process was pivotal in formulating her aesthetics. Printmaking, especially etching, requires that the artist alter a metal surface using tools and acids. What is achieved at the end is a paper – bearing an inked impression of that metallic sheet. Along with the intended content and subject, the surface quality – made possible through incising, immersion in acid, pressure from the printing press – contributes to the image. In some instances, the image. This is how paper, with its withered and crumpled appearance, became a significant and desirable pictorial entity for Afroz. In her essay, Be: Longing, Savita Apte comments that printmaking, “where recent formulations are layered over, faded or partially erased earlier ones, has also been interpreted as a metaphor for Meher’s gradual, though open-hearted assimilation of a new national identity”. Besides the national identity, perhaps the technique also contributed towards her quest to search a lost past. More than personal, it is cultural and religious heritage. Apte writes about the recital of marsiya and soz during Muharram in Lucknow. In these literary forms, a devotee recalls, and relives the martyrdom of Imam Hussain (with whom Allah was pleased) and his family, fourteen hundred years ago. A great contemporary reciter manages to create the historic incident in the minds of his listeners through his choice of words and the control of voice. This experience, of Muharram, is reflected in Afroz’s yearning to reclaim the past. To start with her prints with Indus Valley Civilisation’s script, these later incorporated elements of a collective memory, grief and emotion – echoing Iqbal’s line: Mairi Tamam Sarguzasht Khoye Huwon Ki Justaju. Meher Afroz resurrects a bygone era in her images and with their titles like Zindaan (prison) and Aseer (captive) which may refer to female members of Imam Hussain’s family/camp (with whom Allah was pleased) who were taken prisoners after the massacre in Karbala; besides suggesting the plight of humans in present situations. Zehra Hamdani Mirza, in her essay A Fire in the Moonlight, elaborates this: “Meher’s world view is sculpted by her spiritual centre. Karbala lies fixed in the firmament, like the sun and the moon. It shines in her motifs, rhetoric, and idea of the sublime. Her burnished works in metal, silver and gold evoke alams”. There are visual links with the Shia iconography, but more than these, her preference for darker hues, tarnished surfaces, cuts, scratches, slits, piercings (reminiscent of a print or a plate) act as a metaphor for painful past and equally painful present. Like words on a page, which are mere lines, but signify people, objects, ideas, events – shapes, marks, and textures in Meher Afroz’s works suggest meanings. The physicality of her imagery and its strong tactile sensibility reinforces her concerns. Shirts, coats and cloaks, with the gap/ghost of a human form, without its presence, body and features (Poshak series), are what Anoli Perera in her text, A Palimpsest’s Quest, calls “a ‘loss’ that is brought about with displacement of place… and also is a ‘loss’ that has occurred with the displacement of time”. According to Perera, “Poshak reminds us of the external skin we adorn ourselves with, to survive in the competitive world which becomes a futile exercise when everything is decaying within”. To most of us who have known Meher for decades, she does not come across as an activist participating in processions and agitations. Instead she takes the route of her work to comment on the grim conditions of her milieu. Her canvas with drawn bows and arrows, titled Main Hazara Hoon II, alludes to the sectarian killings of Shia community of Hazaras in the Islamic Republic. Another work Honour Killing, in the words of Perera “gives us a chilling reminder of the violence and brutality of the society in the name of family, religion and ethnicity”. In these and other works, she weaves words like rawadari, (tolerance), amn (peace) and amal (action) into visuals. The language keeps coming to her like a natural calling, not only the written script, but the language of material, too, is at its best in the hands of Meher Afroz. She has turned her temperament for printmaking into a personal idiom, since the process itself is about a residue of the past. A print is the after-image of an initial plate, so looking at a work made in this method is a pact with the memory. Meher Afroz, in her work, not only imbibes formal exquisiteness, but also the pictorial tradition of this region, narrative culture, and the religious past that is still present – for most of us. In her recent pieces, she has been using paper, fabric and some other non-art materials to fabricate visuals that look minimal in appearance, but hold a complexity in their construction and connotation. Geometry is another such element regularly emerging in her pieces. A popular tendency among art historians, critics and general public is to bracket a creative person in a set of motifs, ideas and imagery; and once that is established, sorting every work of the individual within that framework, not realising that artists are free souls so that with each new encounter with their creations we glimpse a new side or dimension to their artistic self. An interesting and useful feature of the monograph is that every contributor highlights a different aspect of the artist’s personality and art. Leafing through the book, with texts by such well known writers as Fahmida Riaz and Salima Hashmi, among others, a reader begins to formulate his/her own portrait of the painter. Probably a portrait made with the pigments of – what Orhan Pamuk calls huzun (grief), not private but of faith and politics, interwoven. The artist (as Amra Ali quotes in her essay A Sanctuary of Sacrifice) “recounts the [Urdu] verse by Mohsin Naqvi: ‘I was thinking what the treatment of sadness would be’”. In Meher Afroz’s case, A Beautiful Despair. The writer is an art critic based in Lahore. https://timespakistan.com/in-praise-of-a-page-art-culture/16517/?wpwautoposter=1618786849

[ouat-in-spare-oom-of-rivendell]

What happen to The Faded Portrait of a Bygone Era series posts??? When I click on it for tumblr it’s says post not found

I moved all of my works exclusively to Ao3 from now on, due to lack of interaction here on Tumblr. On my new masterlist, which should be the pinned post, all of the links will take you to the works on my Ao3.

[artstarstv]

The ghost of fabrics: Paintings by Ryosuke Kumakura

Japanese artist Ryosuke Kumakura is an award-winning Brooklyn-based artist who has painted still life series that goes beyond your typical fruit and landscapes—his forte is fabric. In other words, this artist is a master at capturing the souls of secondhand clothing (yes, even if it is his own). From his handkerchief series, where he captures folded fabrics from a bygone era, to his t-shirt series, where he has painted garb from his own drawers, the garments are painted with precision, style and a bit of mystery.

Kumakura, who recently showed at the NADA art fair in New York, and has shown with Patron Gallery in Chicago, is gearing up for exhibitions upcoming in Chicago and Los Angeles. In the meantime, Kumakura spoke to us about the spirit of self portraits, disowning clothing and why cats are a spiritual symbol.

You paint fabric things like handkerchiefs, which are like relics from the past, t-shirts and underwear, what do they represent to you?

Ryosuke Kumakura: To me, all subjects I paint represent the statement of painting today, especially the relationships between myself and oil paintings. Handkerchiefs are pretty much a faded tradition and that could explain the statement of representational paintings. Handkerchiefs make me think about a sentiment we have in old traditions and some sort of common nostalgia, but it’s also important for me to paint fabrics because that is actually what I paint on—when I start painting on canvas, I always feel slight guilty. It reminds me when I start using new clothes or shoes. It is like beginning of ruining cleanliness to make it your own. I always feel that paintings absorb the sweat, grime and tears of painters.

What do the different embroidery and folds say about your paintings of fabric?

I found the handkerchiefs in flea markets and thrift stores, while other fabrics—t-shirts and socks—are either from my own collection, or that of my close friends and family. While I don’t have any personal memories with the handkerchiefs, I spend time with the piece of the fabric for a long time; I appreciate the embroidery and lace as a reflection of our aesthetics in everyday life, which is a reminder of how important it is for us to keep around the arts.

Where did the t-shirt series come from? What does it say about you?

I started the t-shirt series after painting the handkerchiefs because I wanted to try something new that could speak more words to viewers. I think t-shirts are more common to people, I don't usually talk about the personal stories behind each t-shirt paintings, but the paintings tend to connect emotionally with viewers.  To me, all fabric paintings are portraits depicted in the absence of a human body.

What's your relationship to fashion?

I don't really know much about fashion, but I am certainly interested in how it keeps changing. It’s not only about expression of personality, it’s about how we create “fashionable” things in this world. Occasionally, older things become very cool, and then suddenly that becomes not cool, new things appear but when you notice it's fading next year, it eventually comes back 20 years later. At the time I painted the t-shirt with the Champion logo, I was looking for something simple that can give meaning on a blank canvas. Around the same time, I was reading a book and that said “art is branding,” so I literally took the word. I started to paint champion logos, just because I have many of them and wearing them in my studio. I think it’s interesting to see the statement of the Champion logo change outside of my paintings; the logo doesn’t belong to me, but my paintings do.

What do you learn about fabric upon immortalizing it into painting?

While I’m painting, I think, I learn more about myself rather than about the fabrics. However, I learned about how abstract they are, and all complicated details make what they are. I also feel like they have a physical age or a lifespan. I’m interested in how people decide when a garment becomes “too dirty” or “bad.” At some point, fabrics die in their owners mind, even they don’t have lives and often exist longer that humans do. A big stain on a t-shirt, a tiny hole in your sock, perhaps it is just out of style... I always feel like I am capturing the ghost of fabrics.

On an unrelated note, why do you paint cats?

I was stretching canvas, which is one of my favorite processes, and found the corners of canvases looks like cat ears, so I made it with humor and I need a sense of humor in my works. Also, some people find cat paintings as a kind of animal sculptures you can see at the entrance of Japanese shrine or temples. It’s like an attendant to the spiritual world. People tend to think cats have a special kind of spiritual connection with people, and my paintings are also about the spiritual connections between inanimate things and people. So I find it’s very interesting.

Check out Ryosuke Kumakura on Instagram, or visit his website at ryosukekumakura.com.

Interview by Nadja Sayej.

[ouat-in-spare-oom-of-rivendell]

hello! WAAHHH may i just say that i absolutely adore your "faded portrait of a bygone era" story! along with your "a peculiar fellowship", but may I ask if you're still planning on continuing the latter story? thank you so much!

Thank you so much!

I will continues APF at some point when I have the time and/or inspiration :)

[ouat-in-spare-oom-of-rivendell]

Hiiii!!! I’ve never done this before but I just wanted to say that I love your works and ‘faded portrait of a bygone era’ has literally changed me as a person. Its so beautifuly written I always reread it every month!❤️❤️❤️

Aww thank you so much 🥺🥺🥺 Genuinely that means a lot to hear. That work was very special to me and I had a wonderful time writing it (and an emotional time ending it 🥲). I'm so glad you enjoy it!

[ouat-in-spare-oom-of-rivendell]

So I just binged “faded portrait of a bygone era” and OHMYGOD IT WAS AMAZING?! I am about to read your ENTIRE master list now!!! Fan for life xxx

Aww thank you so much, truly. Most people don't bother to comment on or message about older works, so it really, really means a lot, especially since that series was definitely one of the ones I was most passionate again.

Thank you so much, and happy reading! I hope you enjoy everything else as well :)