#hes come to most holidays. funerals. weddings.

[realbacchus]

My favorite type of family members are just those random friends who get claimed by someone and then stick around long enough to be considered children, siblings, aunts/uncles, grandparents....

[bwabys-scenarios]

Heya! Just thinking about Kurapika cuase he my fav. Since Kurta culture is such a big deal to him, how would he try to teach his significant other about it? Would he try to teach them as they go along or would he try to distance himself from his past culture? Thanks for writing these Headcannons, they get me through my busy work week lollll

Kurapika and his culture, thoughts and HCs

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

A/N: This is less of an x reader and more of Kurta tradition HCs! Also, these are all made up and not inspired by anything specific, so any likeliness to actual cultural practices is not intended. The only tradition that is inspired by real culture is the last one, which is inspired by Dia De Los Muertos(which is obvious but I wanted to give credit where credit is due!!)

Thoughts

Absolutely! As the only Kurta left alive, he’s the only one that can keep his culture and traditions alive. It’s one of the reasons he wants children so badly, he wants to have his clan again!

I think Kurapika isn’t the type to force you to learn or expect you to participate in his culture, after all it’s not your own, but he’d very much appreciate it if you did. You’re his everything, all he has left in this world and the future mother of his children, and he’d be over the moon if you wore the traditional tabards on special holidays and practiced the traditional dance that the Kurta people would preform on their wedding nights.

He also won’t be overbearing with having his kids participate, but will be filled with joy when the little ones ask why daddy is wearing something different and praying on certain days.

Kurapika will bully his friends into celebrating with him, though. Gon and Killua have their own Kurta tabards that they have to wear when then come over during holidays. And no, Gon’s isn’t green. You’ll see why later on in this post.

HCs

-I think the Kurtas had many different traditions, which I will list here.

-One tradition I already mentioned, which is the bride and groom performing a specific dance on their wedding day. It’s a sign of devotion and love that lasts a lifetime, so it’s one of the only things Kurapika really wants you to do.

-Another is celebrating the coming of fall and harvests, alone with spring, summer, and winter. Each season has a different celebration and traditions, like dancing in the snow and leaving your favorite preserved fruit in the windowsill as an offering.

-You give that fruit during winter, a time where the fields are barren so when the fruit is ripe again, the gods give back tenfold.

-In spring, there are always flowers decorating doorframes, most families represented by a specific flower(marigolds for Kurapika’s family!), which is said to strengthen the spirits of each household.

-During summer, the children all made little dolls out of straw(or clay if their family works with it) and fill them with sweets, then leave them in the forest. This is an offering to the forest spirits so they can continue to coexists among each other. The Kurta people have a lot of respect for nature, always giving back what they take.

-The most important tradition takes place during late fall, right before winter. It’s a day to remember your loved ones who have passed, and obviously this holiday is especially rough for Kurapika. Before the massacre, it was a day that was spent celebrating the lives that once were, but now it is full of grief. He wears all green. Brown and earthy tones are used for grieving too, like for widows that are in states of mourning, but green is reserved for funerals. The earthy times symbolize the deceased giving their bodies back to the earth, and the inevitably of returning to dust.

-Because their scarlet eyes are treasured in the clan and green is opposite to red, green is seen as a color of morning. Fun fact, the first time Kurapika saw Gon, he assumed he was in a deep state of mourning because he was wearing an entirely green outfit. Of course he soon learned that the Kurta way of mourning was different than the rest of the world, but that didn’t stop him from being more gentle with Gon for a while.

-Kurapika prefers to pray alone when he’s in mourning. He gets choked up and cries sometimes, and needs time to collect himself and process the tremendous loss he feels.

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟐 (𝟏/𝟐)   ❛ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 ❜   |   ZUYATL HOUSE, APRIL 1991

❧  𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲  /  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

   ❛  The family gathered in Intizara every spring to celebrate Matias’ birthday, but the location lost its charm in 1991. Wedded as it was to memories of holidays past, ones freshly lacquered with sadness, the estate felt inappropriate. Aides arranged for this year’s party to take place in Nakawe where a night in the open courtyard of Zuyatl House would suffice. Matias was never eager to be in the spotlight, but he understood the ritual of celebration meant something to his wife and children. They treated it as a thanksgiving of sorts—an opportunity to make lavish toasts in his name, to perform familial harmony for him, to present thoughtful gifts they (or their aides) had spent a year deciding upon. An undercurrent of competition annually motivated the extravagance, in no small part out of envy for the effortless sincerity of Safya's contributions.

❧ grandma back at it

𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

After an hour of aimless mingling as the sun set, Beatriz called the family together for the first of several toasts. Her speeches in the past had been brief but emphatic. Today, she appeared distracted, casting her eyes everywhere but on Matias as she spoke. 

“If there are better men,” she opined, swirling the wine in her glass. “I have not met them. This is the ...” Beatriz paused and wrinkled her brow. “Fortieth? Forty-first? Either way, we’ve celebrated many birthdays. This is the hardest and unhappiest, so I’ll say that I remain grateful. The Villars had no idea what they were doing when they gave you to me, but they found out soon enough. Forty more? I pray.” 

Matias gazed up at her the whole while, soaking in what she said with a gentle smile, but the mood around the table descended rapidly into apprehension. Beatriz, in her indifferent way, named the tension hanging over the party like the warm yellow lights strung across the courtyard. This was the first intimate family gathering since the funeral. It was, too, the first time most of the siblings had assembled and the only time anyone except Matias had spent informally with Beatriz. Even as they fell into the muscle memory of conversation and laughter, a general consensus simmered below the surface. No one wanted to be there. No one wanted to mimic the gestures and expression of happiness they didn’t feel. The sentiments were authentic, but they did not come from a place of joy. 

The toasts after Beatriz lacked her willingness to state the obvious, even if there were a few wry references to Safya’s absence. Arnaut emphasized gratitude as well, although he meant it as an acknowledgement that he no longer had to cross an ocean to attend family get-togethers. Olalla teared up as she described baking the cake alone this year; Safya had been no expert pâtissier, but the abrupt end of a thirty-year tradition caught her off-guard. Martin and Sebastian stuck to safe, tragedy-free childhood memories of their father. Blanca, though absent, expressed her regard for her father’s unwavering support in a card read by Arnaut and left the death unmentioned. 

When it was Matias’ turn to speak, he said simply, “I won’t give a speech. What I want to say is that being here, together, this year, is the greatest gift of all. Thank you. I love each of you—everyone here, everyone who isn’t. Please, now, let’s eat.”

Beatriz left before dessert. She rose, tossed her napkin onto the table, and floated away with a silent farewell squeeze of Matias’ shoulder. He remained engaged in conversation, but Salvatore’s eyes followed her as she left the room. More than just his steady gaze, Prissy followed her, too. She took fast strides with long legs, easily catching up with Beatriz whose steps slowed the moment she believed herself out of sight. If she heard Prissy’s footsteps—and, almost certainly, she did—then she gave no notice. 

“You don’t feel shame, do you?” 

Prissy’s hand clasped Beatriz’s shoulder, and she urged her to turn around with a tug. Although Beatriz obliged, her expression was hard. Hateful, their mother called it. 

“No.”

Then, “What do you want?” 

Prissy scoffed. “We haven’t even cut the cake. You’re a piece of work, Birdie.” 

The pair stood almost toe to toe, but Priscila towered over her sister as she had for decades. Beatriz had been nearing eleven years old when her sister was born, although she was mature for her age and carried herself with precocious sobriety to match. For a time, Priscila had been small and round. Adolescence came, and she shot up, a seedling made of willowy limbs, thinned out to reveal the striking combination of strong features she inherited. Few could guess, once they were grown women, the wide gap of years between them. Beatriz never gave the impression that she was the younger sister, but Priscila’s statuesque presence granted her a compelling illusion of command and seasoning. 

When they stood together like this, Beatriz thought of their father, whose height and eyes Priscila possessed. The resemblance filled her with envy. 

Priscila was talking again, her brow set low and her dark eyes boring, entirely unfazed, into Beatriz’s resentful stare. “You’ve got all the grit and endurance in the world for everyone and everything,” she complained. “Except for the people who love you. I just don’t get it.”

“Hysterics, over a cake?” Beatriz sneered in response. 

For all of her gentility, Prissy was also an impatient person. Beatriz knew this. She had poked and prodded her sister for years, able to rile her up or bring her down with the kind of precision honed best by siblings. Years apart hadn’t changed that. With a transoceanic letter or strategically missed phone call, Beatriz could rest assured Priscila would be wearing the exact look of infuriated astonishment she donned now. 

That never faded. Neither, too, did the desire of most people, including Priscila, to be heard and taken seriously. 

“It’s not about the cake,” Priscila snapped. She angled, pointing with a sharp-nailed finger into the room where Mateo stood, suppressing laughter while his uncles shoved each other like children. 

“It’s family. I visit those boys twice a week,” Priscila said, turning back to glare at Beatriz. As she continued, Beatriz watched Mateo with Martin and Sebastian. “They’re barely alive, and you made it worse. Isolating them, taking them from their home, making their only parent out to be—”

When Beatriz cut her off, her demeanor had changed. She wasn’t the defensive, condescending older sister who seemed intent on toying with Priscila’s clearly heightened emotions instead of digesting her complaints. Beatriz did know what Priscila wanted to discuss. She had left her chair on impulse, propelled by anger that had nothing to do with Matias’ birthday party. It had everything to do with how Beatriz existed, like some aloof god, above everyone in attendance even as she altered and diverted the flow of their lives. This conversation wasn’t one Priscila prepared in advance to have and, even if she had, it wasn’t one Beatriz would allow. 

Beatriz responded to her the way she would have a disgruntled minister or arrogant reporter. Her shoulders were squared, and she fixed her scowl into a kind of neutral expression as she stated, “Let me stop you there.”

“They’re fine,” she continued. Priscila listened, hands fastened to her hips, brows lower than ever. “If this is the worst thing that ever happens to them, they’ll be luckier than most. Certainly more blessed than I was at that age. I turned out fine, and so did you.” She added, quickly but with the tone of a dubious suggestion, “I suppose.”

Priscila sighed, which Beatriz took as an admission of defeat. “All that contempt,” she whined. “Doesn’t it get tiring?”

Beatriz wagged her finger. “Look in the mirror. This has been a good, wholesome evening. You’re being ugly.”

Now, while Priscila swallowed an indignant gasp, Beatriz took a half step closer. She spoke near Priscila but looked past her, once again eyeing the warmly lit scene of family reunion playing out just beyond earshot. “Don’t start an argument about this with me again,” she warned. “I will finish it next time, and you won’t like that at all.”

Having said her piece, Beatriz stepped away and turned. Priscila let her go, squeezing her hips tighter as she felt her face grow warmer and warmer.

TRANSCRIPT:

BEATRIZ | If there are better men, I have not met them. This is the … Fortieth? Forty-first? Either way, we’ve celebrated many birthdays.

BEATRIZ | This is the hardest and unhappiest, so I’ll say that I remain grateful. The Villars had no idea what they were doing when they gave you to me, but they found out soon enough.

BEATRIZ | … Forty more? I pray.

MATIAS | I won’t give a speech. What I want to say is that being here, together, this year, is the greatest gift of all. Thank you. I love each of you—everyone here, everyone who isn’t. Please, now, let’s eat.

[Overlapping conversations, laughter, music]

PRISSY | You don’t feel shame, do you?

BEATRIZ | No. What do you want? PRISSY | We haven’t even cut the cake. You’re a piece of work, Birdie

PRISSY | You’ve got all the grit and endurance in the world for everyone and everything, except for the people who love you. I just don’t get it.

BEATRIZ | Hysterics, over a cake?

PRISSY | It’s not about the cake. It’s family. I visit those boys twice a week. They’re barely alive, and you made it worse. Isolating them, taking them from their home, making their only parent out to be— BEATRIZ | Let me stop you there.

BEATRIZ | They’re fine. If this is the worst thing that ever happens to them, they’ll be luckier than most. Certainly more blessed than I was at that age. I turned out fine, and so did you. I suppose. PRISSY | All that contempt. Doesn’t it get tiring?

BEATRIZ | Look in the mirror. This has been a good, wholesome evening. You’re being ugly.

BEATRIZ | Don’t start an argument about this with me again. I will finish it next time, and you won’t like that at all.

[Beatriz knocking]

[writingonleaves]

bundles of flowers (we'll wade through the hours of cold) - brock boeser

pairing: brock boeser x original female character

warnings: literally nothing, lots of fluff, flower research i did two years ago, not proofread

title: “promise" by ben howard

word count: 2.7k

author’s note: dug up a creative writing piece i wrote two years ago for a class and tweaked it a bit to create this. happy holidays to all. hope you all enjoy <3

*****

It’s a routine.

When Amber Chen was a young girl, she spent most days after school at Petals Lab & Design, zooming through the front door into her father’s waiting arms, chattering about the meal she had whipped up in the play kitchen at Kindergarten that day. Customers would fawn at her pigtails as she hid shyly behind her father or skipped behind the counter and hoisted herself up on a stool, munching on apple slices her mother had cut.

During her high school days, she would be sure to lock her car twice, twirling her keys around her pointer finger as she walked in. She’d drop her backpack, placing her iced green tea in the center of the counter. If the shop was filled with customers, she’d go into the back room and check the whiteboard filled with her father’s scrawl. If the shop was empty, she’d lean her head on her chin while listening as her parents rattled on about shipments or what was going to for dinner that night. On Mondays and Fridays, it was just her and Xavier or Willow in the shop. On those afternoons, she blasted the music a little louder, swayed her hips a little bolder and dragged whichever poor soul was working that day into a dramatic dance that always left both of them laughing. 

Once Amber went to college, she still found herself coming in every other Sunday to help out, with a sample of whatever baked good she had made that week, an iced green tea, a hot black coffee and a cappuccino. Her mother would always roll her eyes, before reaching for a cookie or cupcake or brownie, chewing it thoughtfully for a couple of seconds and scrunching up her nose. 

“This is too sweet,” she’d say, or, “Too much chocolate.” 

Her father would then wander out, taking a small sip of his coffee first before placing a gentle kiss in her hair. 

“Missed you. How are classes?” Before she could answer, he would always get distracted by something else, whether it be a customer, a phone call or the sudden epiphany of remembering something he had to do hours ago. 

Amber knows that a bouquet of lilies was always acceptable for a funeral or that corsages cost $30 on average, and that yes, they can find a flower color to match the dress. She could rattle off cost estimation for bouquets by the time she was 13. She even finds herself from time to time sitting across from couples at a table tucked in the back corner of their shop, pulling out wrinkled papers to consult them about the floral arrangements for their wedding. 

One hot morning in July, she’s left completely alone to open the shop. Her parents are helping with preparations at a large wedding. She had decided to play one of her favorite playlists over the speakers, soft guitar plucking and the honey-like voice of John Mayer accompanying the routine of putting out the flowers that had arrived that morning. The music’s louder than usual, as people usually flock in about an hour after opening.

But this time, the bell rings after two songs, and she looks up to see a guy around her age, gray hoodie over his blonde hair, black vans covering his feet. The neutral color scheme of his outfit heavily contrasts the bright colors of the flowers around him. He has a calm aura about him, hunched shoulders as if he’s trying to make himself smaller to fit into the shop. She shoots him a tired smile before going back to stocking the bouquets of roses. She waits until the end of the song to speak up, finding him glancing at the orchids.

“Anything I can help you with today?”

He looks up, “Uh, not at the moment.” His hand reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. “My mom’s birthday is today, and I’m a jackass who is getting her something right before she wakes up.”

“Well, orchids are always a solid choice.” Amber backs away with a small nod. “Let me know if you need anything.” He hums in thanks, and she walks back to the register. 

She pulls out her laptop and looks over the materials her eventual boss sent her to read before her first day of work in a month,  singing along to “Daughters” under her breath, ears alert for the tinkling of the bell at the front door. 

She looks up to see the guy shuffling to the counter, and closes her laptop. He clears his throat, eyes bright and smile contagious. “Do you happen to do custom bouquets?”

“We do.” Amber walks from behind the counter and leads him to their lab, eyes going to the multitudes of flowers and brain already spinning with ideas. “Tell me about your mom. What’s your relationship with her like?”

He blinks. “Good. She’s literally always smiling. Has never yelled at me once. She’s the strongest woman I know.” He trails off as she gathers a couple of various stems. “That all you need?”

“Well, let’s see.” She points at each flower as she describes them. “Gerbera Daisies represent happiness, pink carnations represent gratitude and peonies represent prosperity and good health. Pair all that with some baby’s breath and you got a beautiful bouquet right there.” She raises an eyebrow. “Ultimately though, it’s your gift. I can do whatever you’d like.”

“No,” he shakes his head with a nervous chuckle. “It’s perfect. Go ahead.”

She flashes him a grin before methodically cutting the stems of the flowers, arranging them into a lively arrangement of colors and wrapping it all together with tissue paper and a ribbon to match.

He pays for the bouquet at the register, and when she comes around the counter to hand it to him, he thanks her before ducking his head down and walking back out into the muggy Saturday morning air. She blinks as she watches him get into his car, but shakes her head to herself as the phone starts ringing. 

A few weeks later, Amber finds herself waking up to a frantic call from her mother, asking if she can meet up at Camrose Hill for a wedding. Her father has to deal with a shipping miscommunication back at the store, and she needs one more helping hand. When Amber arrives, she steps out, travel mug filled with tea in her right hand and her left hand smoothing down her red floral dress. After asking around, she finds her mother next to carts filled with roses in various colors. With a quick hug, Amber gets to work on building the arch, the light breeze making her regret not putting her hair up. 

“Funny seeing you here.”

She looks up and blinks twice, standing up from her crouched position. 

“Good morning.” She eyes him up and down, admiring his white button up and black dress pants. 

“You here for the wedding?”

“I’m the Best Man, actually.” He chuckles, shoving his hand in his pockets. “My best friend’s getting married.”

“Congratulations,” she says softly, climbing onto a nearby chair to reach the top of the arch. “Beautiful place to do it too.”

He nods, eyebrows furrowing as she stumbles slightly in her heeled sandals. “Do you need help?”

“Absolutely not. You’re a guest. You shouldn’t even be out here right now.” He eyes her warily when she attempts to reach down to grab some roses off the cart, hands automatically going up as she almost falls over. She sighs, “Fine. Grab me five ivory ones and three pink ones, please. And the scissors.”

“So, what do they mean?”

“Hm?”

“The roses. What do they mean?”

She glances at him as she intertwines the stems together, wiggling her fingers at him for more flowers. “They’re roses. Roses are pretty typical for a wedding, generally symbolizing love. I’m sure you know that.”

“How about the colors?” 

“Your friend’s soon to be wife chose ivory instead of white, and ivory usually means gracefulness. Peach roses are usually given as a thank you gift, so gratitude and sincerity is tied to that one. I’ll admit that green roses are more rarer in weddings, but it means growth, so perhaps the start of growing together as a married couple?” She shrugs. “Or maybe she just likes the color combination.”

“Knowing Stacy? It was probably very methodical.”

Amber laughs airily, before sticking her hand out. “Help me down? I need to move the chair to the other side.”

Before he can respond, someone from inside the tent calls his name. He helps her down quickly, before running his hand through his hair. 

She hums. Brock. It fits. “So that’s your name.”

“Can I get yours?” He asks hopefully. 

His name is called again and Amber shrugs with a sly grin. “Another time. Think you’re needed, Best Man.”

With a slight huff, he backs away with a wave. Her attention goes back to her fingers as she threads the flowers into the white arch, listening to the chatter of the other employees preparing. She’s out of the venue before the guests have even started arriving.

The summer always brings in tourists from all over, many itching to take a peek at a shop that has a rainbow of flowers outside of its doors. Balancing her new job at a PR firm, she pops in to help her parents, fingers slowly getting scars and cheekbones beginning to hurt daily. 

On a day where the sun is shining bright and the shop is in a lull during lunch hour, Brock walks in. His smile is wide as he makes small talk with her mother across the shop. Amber freezes when she sees both sets of eyes on her, and swallows her tea as he walks over. 

“Hi again.”

“I came in yesterday looking for you,” he said. “Your parents told me to come back today.”

“Looking for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Did they tell you my name?” 

“Amber.” Fuck, her name rolls off his tongue so sweetly. 

“That’s what they call me.”

“Beautiful name for a stunning girl.”

She snorts, “What can I do for you?”

He grins slightly at her professional tone. “My mom was complaining about how her place isn’t homey enough, so I figured I’d come to my favorite flower shop and talk to the experts about how to fix that.”

“My parents could’ve helped you with that.”

“I know, but I wanted your opinion.”

She moves from behind the counter, lips lifting into a smile as he immediately follows her. “If you want just a bouquet, you can never go wrong with sunflowers. And judging from your sporadically timed visits, you’re probably not around town much, so it wouldn’t be wise to get a plant that you would actually have to take care of. Unless that’s what your mother wants.”

“How do you-”

She stops in front of the sunflowers, ignoring his question. “We got a fresh delivery this morning. If you don’t like these, there are plenty of orchids I’d suggest as well.”

“I’ll take the sunflowers. What’s the special meaning of these?”

“Exactly what they look like. They bring happiness into people’s day.”

“That they do.” She feels her cheeks flush from his stare.

She quickly rings him up and bids him farewell as he walks out the door, smiling to her parents along the way. They both turn their heads to look at her as soon as the door shuts, and she rolls her eyes before venturing into the back room, ignoring the shout of questions and comments.

Winter rolls around quickly. Every time someone has purchased sunflowers these past couple of months, she can’t help but think of Brock; the last image of him imprinted in her brain was him walking out the door with sunflowers in his hand. That was four months ago.

Since then, Amber’s figured out who he is. Brock Boeser. Vancouver Canucks. Minnesota’s very own. She’s spent many nights with a few glasses of wine deep thinking too much about it. 

She’s outside the shop one day after a long day of work, on top of a ladder, gloved fingers fumbling around with the string of lights. Her cheeks are rosy, snowflakes are sticking to her hair and she’s been yawning every five minutes for the last hour, but she’s determined to get these lights up before she locks up in 15 minutes. The poinsettias, mistletoe and holly are scheduled to arrive the next morning.

“Are you guys still open?”

She straightens up at the familiar voice and tightens the gray scarf around her neck. “Yep. I’ll be down in a minute.” She hangs the last of the lights and plugs them in. Wiping her eyes with the heels of her palms, she stores the ladder away and walks in. 

“Brock. Hey. What can I help you with today?” She asks, ducking into the back room to hang up her coat. The shop is quiet, crooning notes of Spotify’s “Christmas Coffeehouse” playing in the background. The dark blue button up peeking out of his black winter coat makes her smile. It’s the most color she has ever seen on him.

“Can you help me with a bouquet?”

“Of course.” She observes the half-empty buckets. “What things do you want to symbolize this time?”

“I actually know what I want.”

“Oh yeah? Great. What would you like?”

“Purple lilacs, irises, pink roses and baby’s breath, please.”

“Just give me a second. The roses are in the back.” She begins arranging the flowers and looks up as she’s grabbing the wrapping paper, noticing his confused stare. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, you just, didn’t tell me what they mean. Like, the flowers.”

Amber chuckles. “You’ve obviously done your research. You still want me to?” Brock nods. “Okay, purple lilacs symbolize first love, irises symbolize wisdom and eloquence. Roses are romantic, but pink ones specifically? That symbolizes admiration. So I would guess you’re giving this to someone you like, maybe a romantic partner? Someone you haven’t been with for long?”

He whistles, “Damn. You’re good.”

Her heart sinks the slightest bit as she shrugs, before a particular set of flower stems caught her eye. “I know it’s your bouquet, but how would you feel about adding daffodils? It would add a beautiful contrast to all the purple you have in here. I won’t even charge you for it.”

“Add them in, and charge me for it too.” She plucks the daffodils out of the bin, separating them throughout the bouquet. “What do those mean?” Brock asks. 

“The daffodils?”

“Yeah.”

She clears her throat. “New beginnings.”

After adding the finishing touch of a purple ribbon, she punches the sale in the register and walks from behind the counter to hand the bouquet to him. 

Brock shakes his head. “Nope.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “Sorry?”

“They’re for you, actually.” She raises an eyebrow, and he continues, flexing his fingers continuously. “It’s my stupid way of asking if you would like to go on a date with me.”

She looks down at the bouquet and back up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Right now?”

“If you’re free. Or in a couple weeks. I, uh, I don’t work around here, unfortunately. So I won’t be back in Minnesota until about a month or two.”

“I know who you are, Brock Boeser.” She hands the flowers to him again. “Hold these while I close up?”

“Is that a yes?”

Amber grins, scanning the shop. “Yeah. It’s not stupid, by the way.” She shuts off the lights, grabs her coat and locks the front door, her date for the night following her obediently. “It’s actually really sweet.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.” She tentatively reaches for his fingers with her other hand as she admires the bouquet. “Do you wanna know something?”

“Anything,” He says, leaning down so he can hear her better.

“Daffodils are actually my favorite flower.”

“Like, ever? Out of all flowers?”

“Out of all flowers.”

He leads her to Osteria La Buca with a wink that has her stomach flipping. “What a coincidence.”

She looks down at the bouquet with a smile.

[bratzforchris]

Just a Dream

❃

Summary: The good die young doesn't make sense to you until it does. In which your fiancé dies in combat and you must learn to make peace with knowing he's always with you. Based off of "Just a Dream" by Carrie Underwood.

Pairing: Soldier!Luke x feminine reader

Warnings: Angst (no happy ending), death, combat/war, funeral scene

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: This is what a week spending every day with a dysfunctional family at the holidays does to an author 🙃

❃

You bit down hard on your bottom lip as you stared into the rearview mirror in your car. The face staring back at you almost didn’t feel like yours. Your eyes had been dusted with soft, gold eyeshadow, which felt almost disrespectful for the occasion. Your eyes were bloodshot, accompanied by dark purple bags. It was hard to believe that you’d turned eighteen just two short weeks ago. The face that stared back at you was someone who had experienced a lifetime of hurt. You couldn’t believe that the reason you were going to the church tonight wasn’t for your and Luke’s wedding. It was almost like a cruel twist of fate. 

You glanced over at the passenger seat of your old car and felt the tears well up in your eyes despite your best efforts. The cardboard box was like a sick taunt, filled to the brim with letters Luke had sent you, along with a sixpence and one of his old, ratty Converse. If someone who didn’t know you saw your current state, they’d think you actually were going to get married. You didn’t know why, but you had even followed the “something borrowed, something blue” and worn your one of your mother’s old hair clips and your cobalt locket from the blond. 

As you pulled out of your driveway, you hardly registered the fifteen minute trip from your home to the church. It had been almost two weeks, and not of it felt real. Every night before you went to bed you prayed that you would wake up to Luke and everything would be some sort of awful dream. Thankfully, everyone had gone inside the church by the time you arrived. You didn’t have the energy to talk to anyone. Quickly sliding out of your car, you grabbed your bouquet of black roses and hurried toward the building. Almost like they were waiting for you, the church doors opened wide as soon as you were outside them. You hurriedly pulled your veil down as you surveyed the scene, trying not to cry as everyone turned to look at you. The fact that this was actually real nearly made you turn on your heel and flee. 

The military band began to play and before you could stop yourself, your bouquet fell out of your hands. You didn’t understand why this had to happen to you. What kind of dark joke was it to take your beautiful, blond boyfriend who was only nineteen away from the world? It felt unfair, if that was even a strong enough word. You’d been counting on forever with Luke, but now you didn’t know. You didn’t know how you were going to continue, knowing the man that was everything was gone; taken just like that. As you walked down the aisle, you heard the whispers of your family and friends saying “he’s not coming home now” or “at least he died honorably”, which was true. 

Luke was the most selfless person you had ever known, right up until the day he died. You could practically still picture when you got the news. You were rushing to get to your class at the local community college campus, stressed because you hadn’t heard from Luke that morning. It wasn’t unusual for you two to go a few hours without texting, especially considering your boyfriend was deployed, but you hadn’t heard from him since your call yesterday afternoon. Just as you went to rush out the front door, your phone rang with a call from an unknown number. You didn’t know why, but something in you told you to answer the call. You could still hear the voice of the commander rolling through the phone, awfully monotone for the news he was delivering. Luke Robert Hemmings, your fiancé and best friend, had died earlier that morning on October 15th, defending his unit at only nineteen years old. 

As the memory played like a bad highlight reel through your mind, you felt like you were looking from a distance. This wasn’t your life, you were just an observer watching an awful dream. Keeping your head down and your veil pulled over your head to hide the tears, you took a seat next to Luke’s mom and your own as the preacher began to speak. 

“Let us bow our heads and pray,” he spoke. “May the Lord lift this heroic young man’s soul and heal the hurt that has been done to his family.”

Once he had finished his speech, the congregation stood up and began to sing a song you had never heard, but that hurt you all the same. It didn’t seem right to take such a young, loving, beautiful man like Luke away from the world. He had had dreams; he was going to get his PhD while in the military, marry you, start a family. And now, none of those things would ever be accomplished. 

You were called to the front of the church, where you stood by Luke’s closed casket. It had been deemed that his injuries were too “gory” for an open casket funeral, but you would’ve given your last dime to see your beautiful blond just one more time. The thought of his blue eyes laying lifeless behind that wooden lid made you bite your lip as you teared up once again. Before you knew it, a commander was handing you a folded up American flag, and you clutched it to your chest. This was the last material thing you had left from Luke, and you would cherish it for the rest of your days. It was all you had left of him. 

The guards that were for military funerals lined up and rang one more unloaded shot, almost like a send off to Luke. It didn’t matter that there weren’t any actual bullets. It felt like a bullet in your heart nonetheless. Luke was never coming back. You would never see him back from deployment, or on your wedding day, or at the hospital when you had your first child. He was gone. 

The rest of his funeral passed by in a blur, with family and friends offering their condolences. You didn’t hear them, though. You were too busy twisting the diamond engagement ring around your finger. You and Luke had had a wedding planned for as soon as he returned from deployment, but it seemed unfair to think about that now. The fact that you would go on with your life and grow old, but he would stay forever nineteen, all because he died defending his country. 

Somehow though, you knew he would always be with you. Luke had been like that, ever since you’d started dating sophomore year. He had a way of making you feel better, even when he wasn’t around. All you had to do was think of his corny jokes or his crooked smile and everything was okay again. Maybe that wouldn’t be the case now, but you would never forget how loved Luke made you feel as long as you lived. Maybe you’d wake up and this would all be a dream, but for now, you made peace with the fact that your guardian angel would always be watching over you, calling you his lover, just like before.  

[richincolor]

New Releases - Week of Oct. 9, 2023

We have history, fantasy, a contemporary rom-com, a memoir, and a retelling this week. It's quite a range in just four books. Does anything catch your eye?

Brooms by Jasmine Walls Levine Querido

It’s 1930s Mississippi. Magic is permitted only in certain circumstances, and by certain people. Unsanctioned broom racing is banned. But for those who need the money, or the thrills…it’s there to be found.

Meet Billie Mae, captain of the Night Storms racing team, and Loretta, her best friend and second-in-command. They’re determined to make enough money to move out west to a state that allows Black folks to legally use magic and take part in national races.

Cheng-Kwan – doing her best to handle the delicate and dangerous double act of being the perfect “son” to her parents, and being true to herself while racing.

Mattie and Emma — Choctaw and Black — the youngest of the group and trying to dodge government officials who want to send them and their newly-surfaced powers away to boarding school.

And Luella, in love with Billie Mae. Her powers were sealed away years ago after she fought back against the government. She’ll do anything to prevent the same fate for her cousins.

Brooms is a queer, witchy Fast and the Furious that shines light on history not often told – it’s everything you’d ever want to read in a graphic novel.

The Fall of Whit Rivera by Crystal Maldonado Holiday House

Frenemies Whit and Zay have been at odds for years (ever since he broke up with her in, like, the most embarrassing way imaginable), so when they’re forced to organize the fall formal together, it’s a literal disaster. Sparks fly as Whitney—type-A, passionate, a perfectionist, and a certified sweater-weather fanatic—butts heads with Zay, a dry, relaxed skater boy who takes everything in stride. But not all of those sparks are bad. . . .

Has their feud been a big misunderstanding all along?

Blisteringly funny and profoundly well-observed, The Fall of Whit Rivera is a snug and cozy autumn romcom that also tackles weightier topics like PCOS, chronic illness, sexuality, fatphobia, Latine identity, and class. Funny, honest, insightful, romantic, and poignant, it is classic Crystal Maldonado—and it will have her legion of fans absolutely swooning.

Huda F Cares by Huda Fahmy Dial Books

Huda and her sisters can’t believe it when her parents announce that they’re actually taking a vacation this summer . . . to DISNEY WORLD! But it’s not quite as perfect as it seems. First Huda has to survive a 24-hour road trip from Michigan to Florida, with her sisters annoying her all the way. And then she can’t help but notice the people staring at her and her family when they pray in public. Back home in Dearborn she and her family blend right in because there are so many other Muslim families, but not so much in Florida and along the way.

It’s a vacation of forced (but unexpectly successful?) sisterly bonding, a complicated new friendship, a bit more independence, and some mixed feelings about her family’s public prayers. Huda is proud of her religion and who she is, but she still sure wishes she didn’t care so much what other people thought.

Realm of Wonders (The Queen’s Council #3) by Alexandra Monir Disney Hyperion 

Jasmine thought that she had earned her happily ever after when she and Aladdin defeated Jafar. Then her beloved father dies and, overnight, all her plans for the future change. Instead of her wedding, she’s now planning a funeral and a coronation—her coronation, to become the first woman to rule Agrabah. Jasmine has always been headstrong, but for the first time in her life, she finds herself faltering.

Then from beyond the grave, her father seems to pass along a message: Someone is coming. She must find the book. Before Jasmine can figure out what that means, her claim to the throne is called into question.

Her father’s old counsellors decree that the best way to determine the true ruler is a tournament; a series of tests, each one increasing in difficulty—and danger. Now, with help from the mystical Queen’s Council, Jasmine must assemble her own team of advisers, win the tournament, and uncover the mystery of her father’s last message, so she can prove to her people—and herself—that she deserves to rule Agrabah.

[eirenical]

I've been struggling to figure out how to make this post, or even if I want to, for days now.

In Jewish traditions, we're all too well aware that within each celebration of joy, there is potential for sorrow. That each moment of happiness comes with the risk of pain, the reminder of pain. It's why we break a glass at a wedding.

At a funeral we rend our clothes.

Or in modern times, a symbolic ribbon.

This is to show that with the loss of this person, there has forever been a hole torn in the fabric of your life. A hole that can never again be mended.

On Tuesday, I lost my Uncle.

Most of you probably have a certain image in your mind when you think of the word "Uncle." Someone you see at holidays or a few times a year. Maybe they send you a card for your birthday or show up with a gift.

That's not who my Uncle was to me.

He wasn't an "uncle" the way most people think of an uncle. He was my third parent for my entire life. For almost 45 years. And for the last decade and a half, I lived with him, shared his home, squabbled with him like only an adult daughter can, and was there for him when he needed me, just like he's always been here for me when I needed him.

I feel like there's been a hole torn through the center of my life and all I can process are the empty places, so many empty places, where he stood, larger than life for so many years and where he just ISN'T anymore.

I still look downstairs when I wake up at 5 to see if the light is on in the kitchen to know if he's awake... and it's not on.

I still look down the hallway to the den when I come downstairs to see if he's reading on the couch or at the computer and he isn't there.

I still look to see if he already turned the outside light on at night before going over to my parents' for dinner.

I still try to tell him there's a brie thief in the house whenever I steal some of his brie for breakfast because I know it makes him happy to know I like what he likes.

I still try to check to see if he has books to return to the library when I go to return mine.

I can't go downstairs in the middle of the night to get a drink, because I know he won't be awake at 1 AM to catch me and complain about how he can't sleep and how I should be sleeping.

I burst into tears when I took his "#1 Uncle" mug out of the dishwasher the other night, knowing he'll never use it again.

Yesterday my nephew said to me "Can we go to your house and get more noodles for soup?" and I almost fucking cried because it's not my house, it's HIS house and I just live here.

And then my niece sat down on the floor in MY spot while I was sitting in HIS chair and leaned her head back against my hand for head rubs just like I used to do to HIM and I guess that my thing now, and I don't even know how to PROCESS THAT because he was the best of ALL of us and his shoes are way too big for me to fill, but my niece and nephew need me to fill them as best I can, and I'm going to be rattling around in them for decades before I even get close to being a FRACTION of who he was.

I don't know how to do this.

...it's only been four days.

I miss him.

I want him back.

:'(

[vacantgodling]

26, 27, 47, 58 for any of ur polycules!

thank you 💛 i think i’ll do this about the celestial lovers since i don’t talk about them that much lol

26. Of the members who live together, what are the household dynamics like? How do they split chores, manage finances, etc.?

so all of them live together in the celestial palace after dag becomes the celestial ruler. because they’re basically uhhhh “deities” (kinda) they don’t really do chores and manage finances and things like that, they have maaaany live in servants that kind of handle all of those things.

however, the stuff they do kind of handle household wise (ig) is how to rule the spheres—so i guess basically i could break that down (we love worldbuilding on the fly pff).

so when it comes to managing resources (food, the economy, etc): almine and izul oversee that. mainly because the two of them are the most pragmatic and good with numbers and distribution.

humanitarian issues and crises (such as natural disasters) tend to be dealt with by zhujen and muu. they’re extremely empathetic people—zhujen gives off a motherly aura and it does tend to help calm people and help them listen to her, meanwhile muu grew up in the region most likely to have natural disasters—denjai—which is a giant swamp that’s constantly hit with monsoons and the like so he just knows the area very well.

conflict resolution (aka issues between spheres) is usually dealt by vigustav and aenlin. viggo coming from the region most likely to have conflict (vukter) helps because he understands the culture best and he can be firm and intimidating when he needs to and aenlin is a very good judge and executioner. the two of them handle dealing with the ugly stuff the best.

finally, public events and appearances are usually dealt with by rhohanen and lilliabet. many holidays and ceremonies are lilliabet’s forte, meanwhile rhohanen is there for affairs of state like coronations, funerals, the stuffier stuff because he’s good at it.

and where does dag fit in in all of this? aside from all the spiritual and metaphysical duties of the celestial ruler, he tends to deal with all of it when he absolutely has to. in part of choosing the lovers was to also find people that would help him be able to manage all of this. so, i hope that kind of answers your question lol 😅

27. Of the members who live together, do they all sleep in one bed too? All separate bedrooms? Something in-between?

as mentioned, they all live together in the celestial palace and because it’s a palace they all have separate rooms decorated according to their styles and tastes. they do however tend to congregate together a lot or sleep in either each other’s rooms or some of the, for lack of better words, nesting rooms together esp after certain activities 👀

the other exception to sleeping separately is every night, they all rotate between sleeping in dag’s room which is the main celestial chamber. the thing about their poly is technically, the easiest way to think about it is a ruler (dag) and their harem (everyone else) so they’re all married to him first, however he loves that they’ve all grown to love one another as well. ngl he has the most cohesive lover’s circle of any ruler lmao 💀

47. Did any monogamous partners discover they were polyamorous after the relationship opened up? How did they find out?

interesting question because i guess all of them? the relationship was always quasi-open from jump just bc of the nature of the celestial ruler and their lovers (which tldr the celestial ruler cannot ascend until they go to every sphere (or kingdom) and choose one member of the royal family to be wed to. this doesn’t automatically guarantee they’ll ascend as there are other hopefuls who have been trained for this too But that’s a long explanation i can get into later PFF) BUT none of the lovers meet each other fully until or unless the hopeful they wed becomes the celestial ruler. since dag does become that, they all finally meet each other face to face and for a good while, it was very much friendly and getting to know each other/feeling out the dynamics. dag (and technically aenlin) obviously knew all of them beforehand so once things settled they kind of had a big meeting where he was like “hey yeah like as long as well all get along and care for one another, please feel free to define your relationships for yourselves.”

the first one to Know that he was poly is technically aenlin though he knew the whole time as he was trained as a hopeful too alongside dag (long story). and he did develop a friendliness with many of them. he’s the first one to branch into something more territory with izul first, surprisingly. but that’s bc izul is hard to warm up to others and they sort of clung to aenlin as a familiar face when dag wasn’t around and yknow as they say. one thing lead to another. and then as they slowly got to know each other and spent more time together (all of them) things went from friendly to… lovey dovey and steamy lmao. i’d say 5 years into dag’s rule they’ve all become very entertwined.

58. How does the polycule celebrate anniversaries?

it’s a WHOLEEEE thing. mainly because they kind of end up becoming whole holidays in their world. each sphere does have their own holidays and important events but ig “interspherical” holidays are dictated by whoever the ruler is just bc rulers can live for a few thousand years if nothing happens to them tm (sans the ruler before dag rip). so the anniversary of their marriage, each lover’s birthday, important dates to them… all kinda get tossed on the big ol calendar and celebrated with a big party of some kind. then they usually after the main festivities have smaller celebrations with just the 9 of them and there’s a lot of pampering and ngl probably a lotta orgies LMAO

[yikeshereiam]

do you mind if i ask about all of them???? (not top gun au tho, cuz i don't want spoilers since i didn't read it yet)

hi!! okay, I'm absolutely down to give you snippets from as many as possible, because I'm honestly pumped about most of these ideas and could talk about them for hours, really.

teen wolf movie fix-it (scalira + thiam)

Hale Auto Shop is– objectively– not a terrible place to work. 

Sure, Theo would prefer somewhere that isn’t located right in the hell-hole that is Beacon Hills, but there’s only so many places that’ll hire you without a formal address, or well, any personal records, so beggars can’t really be choosers. 

And Derek isn’t a bad boss. Not usually anyway. He pays well, offers lengthy holidays and reimburses for any travel required. His kid is an absolute nuisance though. Which, in retrospect, is pretty on brand for most members of Scott’s pack. Theo really shouldn’t expect any different. But having to call the Sheriff’s department at the bare minimum of once a week to let them know that Eli has successfully managed to run off with the piece-of-shit jeep– again– gets old fast.

Theo is a hale (thiam)

It wasn’t his sister's funeral– no, that would come later. When Theo was a little older and not that much wiser; when he was sick of the itch under his skin and the empty cavern his mother had left in his chest after she broke the news to him, her gentle voice caressing every fibre of his coiling muscles as she whispered ‘they’re all gone’ into the darkness of the night. 

Well, Theo supposed, it was a sister’s funeral. Many sisters, actually. The sisters of the kid sitting up the very front of the church. Sharp jaw clenched. His brown eyes swollen and brimmed with unshed tears.

superhero au - before and after (thiam + scalia)

Grand Mountain. 

The be-all-to-end-all. A registered Variant’s wet dream. The United Nations’ Official Variant Registry’s (or the OVR’s) very own private academy. Built to harbour the most powerful of beings. And churn out soldiers worthy of taking down whatever inter-galactic threat decides to show its face within Earth’s atmosphere. 

A home away from home, for people like Liam.

secret relationship except their famous and married (thiam)

Liam scowls. “Not all of us can get scouted by Marvel, Raeken.” 

Theo kisses him again. “I know.” 

“I still have some artistic integrity,” Liam grumbles, chasing his mouth when Theo decides to pull back. “Unlike you.” 

thiam proposal

Theo grins. “You’re the only person I need, baby.” 

“God help me.” 

“What?” Theo gasps and has the gall to remove his arm from around Liam’s shoulders to gesture in-between them pointedly, eyes sparked with mirth. “You don’t think this is forever?” 

Liam has a feeling he knows where this is going, even if most of his brain is fogged up and focused on the way Theo’s hair is framing his face.  “If you propose to me at this wedding, I’m going to say no.” 

Theo wrinkles his nose. A loose strand bounces against his forehead. “You always say no when I propose.” 

Liam looks away from him and nods. “Maybe you should take the hint.”

[definitely-not-cereal-og]

I just kinda had this idea, its just a little ficlet about Todd.  

(TW: Death mention, Cancer mention)

Todd settled down in a small town, nice, quiet, and (most importantly) very far away from where he grew up. While he tried his hardest to take his friends with him, he only managed to convince a few to disobey their parents wishes. He lived a quiet life, working a small dead-end job that earned him just enough to get by. It wasn’t very fulfilling, but it left him with enough time to work on his poetry and his books. Filling each notebook he bought with poems and stories, he slowly filled his bookshelves. You could never be truly alone when surrounded by memories. 

Knox and Charlie always kept tabs on him, making sure he was actually getting out and enjoying himself. Eventually they convinced Todd that he deserved to have someone in his life other than them. Todd decided to foster a kid. They helped him fill out the paperwork, find a new and higher paying job, and clean out his spare rooms for the biggest and best decision he had ever made. He ended up taking in a couple teens as the years went by, some of them aging out of the system while in his care. Free time was harder to come by, but he never once regretted helping these kids. Some of them kept in contact with Todd.

As the years went by, he became more isolated. Sure, his kids kept him busy with family occasions, holidays, weddings, and anniversaries, but he really never felt as wanted as he used to. He was content, but his lust life slowly started to leave as he just fell into routine. He never really did stop writing, that was the only thing that truly brought him joy towards the end. His kids, who had read many of his stories, tried to convince him to publish them, but he didn’t really want to. He agreed to publish one of his poetry books, a short one, mainly about plays and the last great act of life. It made some good sales but never really sold out. Todd was ok with that, he wasn’t really built for the attention fame brought anyways. Charlie bought it but refused to read it, despite how much Knox sang the praises of his favorite poem, Nuwanda, about a call from god. Todd finally agreed to let his kids publish as many of his books as they wanted, but only if they did so after he passed.

He was almost 70 when Charlie passed. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but he didn’t want to know. Todd and Knox helped arrange the funeral. It was the first time since they graduated that he had seen the rest of the group. He wished he had more to talk about. Charlie’s daughter gave him Charlie’s old poems so Todd framed them and put them in his study, right next to his class photo and an old picture of Keating he had torn out of a yearbook and blown up. The study was starting to look more like a museum as the years went by. 

Two days after the funeral, his grandsons were born, Neil and Charlie. Todd hadn’t been as happy in decades as he was when he heard their names. He spent the next year reading to them and telling them stories of his life while in Welton, something he hadn’t talked about to anyone besides his books. They were babies, so they were happy to listen. Todd started to collect organize his poetry books by the age Neil and Charlie would be when he would give them to the boys. He wanted them to have something to help them get by when the going got tough. 

Knox moved in with Todd when he couldn’t live on his own anymore. His family had all moved away to live the most of their lives and he didn’t want to be the reason anyone stayed behind. Todd did his best to care for him, enjoying feeling useful again, but he was only 75 when Knox finally moved on. Most of Knox’s family flew in for the funeral, but still gathering a bigger crowd than Todd ever thought he would have.

It wasn’t long after that Todd was diagnosed with cancer, stage 4. It was hard to tell where it started at this point. He declined chemo, he was content with the life he had lived and he missed his friends. Electing to pass while surrounded by family, he happily spent the rest of his life writing letters. During his last week, he mailed out every one of them. One went to Pitts, Meeks, and Cameron to tell them he had missed them and wished them well. One was addressed to someone whom he hoped was family of Mr. Keating, thanking them for the best year of his life, and one went to Helton, simply holding a photograph of Todd and his friends from when they all went to school there and asking them to hang it in the hall with a plaque that said “carpe diem”. The last one he addressed to Neil Perry. Nobody knew what it said, as he asked it not to be opened. He wanted it to go with him, his last words to Neil. Todd had so much to tell him when he got to see him again. 

[ricard-blythe-ffxiv]

Incipience

Frustration - he was used to the feeling. 

It was common in his line of work and typically it was something that he took with a grain of salt. Not every lead panned out. Not every witness was valuable. Not every piece of information was worth what he paid to obtain it.

Usually all it took was a drink, a night to sit with his annoyance, and he moved on to the next task. And there was always a next task.

Such was the way of things.

But that was before, when he felt he had the leeway to escape. That leeway was no longer available.

Ricard reached up, brushing the snow from his hair as he waved off assistance from the doormen as he stepped through the doors of the Blythe estate and headed straight towards his office. 

He’d returned from Thavnair just days before, already frustrated with every lead and bit of information he’d obtained feeling as though it had led him in circles for days, and within minutes of walking in the door he’d been bombarded with missives and requests. There’d been no time to sort through what information he had obtained because there were demands on his attention that refused to be set aside

Some personal, invitations to different events involving the holidays that he had (thankfully) missed due to being away, some having to due with wanting information on the wedding that could, and should have been answered by his mother or his bride to be during his absence (not that he expected it to have been taken care of…he’d get to those eventually), and some that were business requests disguised as personal requests - those he’d answer last, simply because he was irritated and had no desire to play games. 

Then there were the few that drew his attention due to the…apparent straightforward nature of the request. Business requests, which were often directed towards his father, but had been addressed to him. 

One specifically coming from a ‘Lady Gray’ and appeared particularly interesting - and interesting was at the very least worth a return letter…and a meeting which he’d taken no time at all to arrange.

Meetings meant fewer hours available to be drawn into meetings related to wedding concerns, after all. 

Ricard exhaled sharply as he took a seat behind his desk, flipping open the few files he’d been able to obtain on the woman in question and leaning back as he scanned over the contents, gaze cutting to the clock on the far side of the room for a moment waiting for the Lady Gray’s arrival.

It was often that Wren wrote most of Cordelia’s correspondences, the ones she perhaps deemed ‘less important’ or something of the like. However, in this instance, it had been the Lady’s very own hand that penned the letter addressed to the newly found interest of hers after being informed by her Warden. 

When the response arrived upon the silver platter that was gently extended to her by one of the housemaids, Cordelia was hardly surprised and yet still pleased all the same. She simply slipped a small letter opener under the seal to break it, flipping the parchment upward as her eyes scanned the words. Perfect, this was a good beginning at the very least. 

She donned a gown of grey and mauve purple fabrics, tight-fitting in the bodice but billowing from the hips elegantly yet still informal enough for a simple meeting. It was the first excursion she made from the manor in something other than mourning attire since her late husband’s funeral and by the Twelve was she pleased to be doing so. Wren had discussed the final details of what she learned of the Blythes as she aided in getting her Lady ready and Cordelia was prepared to see her first true venture in the public as the head of her household. “Let’s go make a new friend, hm?” She said through a grin as she stepped from the carriage outside of the Blythe manor and smoothed her dress, adjusted her rings, and made for the entrance.

The door to the manor was opened for her shortly after the first knock and one of the staff offered to take her coat as another patiently waited to guide her up towards Ricard’s office. 

The manor was busy - the holidays had only recently passed and it seemed as though already the staff had moved from the holidays to transitioning to prepare for the upcoming wedding and all of the events that that would entail. The two elder Blythes could be heard, vaguely, in one of the sitting rooms - the details of their conversation were impossible to make out, as the staff member continued to lead the lady through the hallways before eventually stopping before a pair of double doors well removed from the main hall and knocking loudly.

“Sir, Lady Gray is here to meet with you.”

“Lead her in, Vincent.”

The man in question offered a nod to the lady in question before opening one of the doors and then offering a bow before allowing the lady to enter first.

Ricard stood, moving from around his desk, adjusting his vest as he walked towards the center of the room to greet his guest. Dressed in dark slacks, a white button up and dark vest, he looked every bit the professional - charming smile added to boot. 

“Lady Gray. A pleasure to meet you, and welcome. I’m Ricard Blythe. Please, come in, have a seat, make yourself comfortable and we can discuss how I can be of service to you - your missive was quite intriguing.”  He motioned towards the seats positioned before the fire place - a cart prepared with food and drink nearby. 

There had been very few times she dealt with any business on her own and when she had it mostly included handmaidens or household staff looking for work or giving her womanly input on jewels and fabrics that her husband would purchase. Sometimes, Ambrose took her to meetings if only to tug her around to be the pretty little thing on his arm. The thought of it in that moment firstly brought a disgusted twitch to her features but then came the enjoyment that she no longer had to deal with it all. 

Upon entering, she offered the man a slight nod in greeting, a smile matching his own as she spoke. “The pleasure is all mine, Lord Blythe.” Cordelia offered as she crossed the room to where he had gestured and found herself comfortably seated. Cozied up next to a fireplace, business or pleasure, it was always her preferred way to spend her time and as such, this was the perfect introduction. “I am pleased to hear you found it so. I hope that I have not intruded too much on your time, the word in the city is that you and yours are quite the busy bunch.” 

“Is that so?” Ricard moved to the cart, head tilted ever so slightly and eyebrow quirked in amusement. “I acknowledge that things have been quite…active in recent months. And this city does enjoy a good rumor, almost as much as it does a good wedding. The idea of both is almost too much for it to handle. Almost. Both for the possible gains that can be achieved. But I digress, what can I get for you, Lady Gray? To drink first, and then we can get to the business discussion.”

Her eyes glanced toward the cart, a low bit of a chuckle sang from her chest before taking a breath in thought. Of course there were drinks involved in business, she knew that from the way Ambrose always smelled of it when he came home from meetings. Cordelia knew well enough to keep her wits about her but she also knew better than to decline the offer. “I’ll have whatever you are.” She said simply, her thumb rubbed over the ring on her finger idly as she watched him prepare the drinks. “Surely you find yourself looking forward to your nuptials, it is a very exciting time.” 

“Coffee it is then.” There was a low hum as Ricard went about pouring two cups, also setting out cream and sugar, should she desire to add any to hers. First meetings were always full of interesting little notes, bits of information and details that he may file away and use at some later point in time.  Her approach to the niceties was one such detail. “It is, as you so astutely pointed out, a very busy time.”

He turned, offering out a small cup and saucer to her before taking the seat across from her with his own cup in hand with a small smile. “Merging two houses takes no small amount of finesse and while the business dealings were handled months ago the social dealings have been ongoing since, and I imagine will continue well after the ceremony has completed. Not that’s either here or there. Your missive mentioned some interest in the services I have to offer.” He lifted his cup taking a small sip, his blue eyes appearing just a shade lighter in the firelight. “Which services are those, Lady Gray? Just how may I be of service to you?”

The saucer and up was retrieved delicately, opting out of sugar and cream as she preferred the bitterness of plain black coffee. She was surprised by his choice, though she accepted graciously all the same.  “Mm, I recall such a time.” She mused, lifting the cup to her lips to enjoy a meager sip before continuing. “A little overdone, if you ask me. But such is the way of our lives, hm?” Clearing her throat softly, she lowered the saucer to rest upon her lap with one hand holding it and the other simply cupping the side. 

“I would agree that it’s very much over done, but as I’ve been informed, my part is to show up and strike the handsome figure at the head of the church and to say my lines as instructed, and then to fulfill the role of the dutiful husband, and so I shall. If my mother had her way there would have been nothing but social obligations since the moment of the engagements announcement, but there’s business to be done.” He lifted his cup, taking another - longer - sip and turning his attention back to her and listening attentively.

Cordelia took a moment, looking him over and gauging her response before offering it. “I honestly have not entirely decided that  just yet, however, as my late husband handled the finance and trade of our house I am looking to broaden the horizons in which he left. I aim to, at the very least, form a new point of trade within Ishgard and perhaps beyond.” There was more to add, though she opted to leave it at that for the time being to see in which direction the conversation swayed from this point. 

“Broadening one’s financial horizons, particularly in today’s day and age is never a bad thing, and is certainly achievable - the matter would be determining how you’d like do to that, if you had a certain idea in mind, or if you’re looking to leave that in the hands of another. I did, after receiving your missive, do a bit of digging - a personal habit of mine I’m afraid - into your late husband’s previous advisor.” The corner of Ricard’s mouth quirked up for a brief moment as he turned his cup in his hands. “Not the most…distinguished of individuals. He’s been around for quite some time - so he is established is that sense.  My father indicated that he’d dealt with him a time or two, but the man had a habit of overstepping his bounds. I’d have to take a closer look at your current financial statements to get a better idea of just where things stand what the best next step may look like, but I do believe, regardless of the current situation, that broadening your horizons and securing a future both within and outside of Ishgard is an obtainable future, Lady Gray.”

She tilted her head slightly, a grin forming over her lips before she once again lifted the cup to sip from the coffee before she mused, “It would seem we have both done our homework, then.” Taking a slow and intentional breath after returning the cup to the saucer upon her lap she cleared her throat and nodded. “Kylian Levieux has been in my husband’s pockets for as long as I can recall even before our union and not once have I found myself pleased with not only his work but his intentions. Lord Gray made a fine name for himself and his household with plenty of funds; however, I see where there are changes and growth to be made.” There was a brief pause as she looked to him with an intent gaze. “Mister Levieux would be the beginning to that change.” 

“Information is a…valuable asset. A weapon, in the right hands.” Ricard leaned back in his chair, with an easy smile before taking a small sip from his cup. He easily met her gaze before setting his cup and saucer to the side on the small table beside his chair. “In the right hands it can be wielded with deadly precision, leading to just the outcome one wants. In the wrong hands - which sounds like what may have happened with Mister Levieux - there’s quite a bit of fumbling as one tries to master that which they have no business trying to handle. I can only venture a guess that Levieux was well out of his league in attempting to manage your late husband’s affairs - or at least in a way that suited your needs in a satisfactory manner. Or else you wouldn’t be here speaking to me.” 

His grin grew mischievous, “Or that nasty habit of overstepping his bounds got him into trouble. No matter. Whatever his misstep, that is his issue to deal with. Our business relates to how to develop the ties you have within Ishgard, as it’s a safe assumption that Levieux did not do a terribly good job of that, and then to work on establishing additional bonds outside of the city. Correct? Have you specific industries that you’d like to invest in, Lady Gray?”

“I may not be entirely as well versed or experienced in the this role, but I have learned enough to know well that knowledge is as powerful as coin.” She took a breath, leaning to also now set aside her cup and saucer. The conversation topic of her financial advisor left her sour though she showed it very little. “Overstepping, yes..” A quiet musing that was almost to herself and yet it waved it on to continue forward with the conversation. “The Gray’s finances are hardly in a state of disrepair or in need of salvaging, we have the coffers and  I would be willing to collect the records to share with you in the future should this go further. My husband’s ventures were in textile and jewels and as I stated before and hile lucrative especially in our city, I am aware there’s more to gain. I have not yet decided entirely on the next route to take… thus I’ve sought out perhaps those that might offer something in that matter. Invest, is the exact use in which I look for, an exponential growing relationship that offers reaping benefits on both ends.” 

“There’s certainly room to expand. New markets to explore, and if you’re looking to expand outside of textiles and jewlery, there are always other opportunities.” He rested his elbow against the arm rest before leaning to the side, settling his chin against his hand. “I suppose, the real question here, is what do you want, Lady Gray. A broad and narrow question all in one…” Again, he had that mischievous grin as he settled back in his chair.

The question was straight forward enough and yet left open for a world of answers to follow. It had been the first time she truly took a moment to consider what did she want? Cordelia knew vaguely of her desires at their core, but how she wanted to achieve them, well, that was still left to be desired. After considering his inquiry, holding her gaze on him as she did so, a follow up came with certainty. “My husband left everything in the hands of Levieux; the finances and where they are allocated, including what I am given as an allowance. I want financial freedom out of his hands and in mine where it belongs. Once I have that, then I will have the ability to ensure further investments beyond what meager amounts I could offer now. I trust that is understandable enough, Lord Blythe.” 

Ricard’s grin took on a dangerous edge for a brief moment. “Well that does make things a bit more difficult. It sounds as though mister Levieux’s continued presence in creating quite the headache.” He reached for his cup, finishing off what remained. “I think I might need to have a…chat with the man, see if we can’t get this little misunderstanding straightened out for you, Lady Gray…I suggest you start to consider where you would like to make those investments while I work towards…straightening out Mister Levieux. I assure you, your finances will be back in you control before the end of the week.”

A grin of her own began to form as Cordelia took in Ricard’s response and she was officially pleased with her decision to seek him out. They had only just met and were already at an understanding enough that she could see her plans beginning to fall into place. Her body settled a bit more into the chair, still remaining ever the graceful ladylike demeanor, of course, but she took a breath and nodded once. “Delightful.” Fingers intertwined to rest her hands upon her lap as she mused. “Any suggestions that I might look into? Curious of your opinions. My family has never had any interest in funding the dealings in which yours have but could it be something worthwhile to perhaps offer investments…here?” 

“I would offer you the same advice I would any of my clients, Lady Gray. Am I entirely biased in believing that the…work we do here is worth the investment and the return would be worthwhile? Absolutely, I am - however, I’m not so biased that I wouldn’t recommend waiting  and seeing that this first job, this chat is completed to your satisfaction before we make any decisions.” He drummed the fingers of his right hand against the arm rest of his chair. “That being said, as I previously indicated, there are other industries that - once your finances are back under your control - you could expand out to, and there are also other houses that are looking to expand their reach that you might look into partnering with. With the right investments here at home that may be a good way to start making an impact in the markets outside of Ishgard.”

His gaze shifted towards the fire for a moment, his tongue brushing across one of his canines. “My…soon to be sister in law, Vahalia Cress, may be a good woman to speak to if that type of partnership sounds interesting.” He kept his gaze on the flames a moment longer before finally turning back towards his company, easy grin back in place. “And then, of course, there are the more traditional industries - though there hasn’t been as much of a need for armor and weaponry as in years past there is always some demand. Technology always has demand, textiles and jewelry - luxury items have been in higher demand as of late, so really the possibilities are endless once your headache is seen to.”

She allowed a quiet chuckle to escape considering her actions already in motion to seek out Vahalia, though she was hardly surprised at his suggestion to do so. All the names on her list were connected in some way and she hoped that would work to her advantage in the future. “Oh, I fully intend on taking the time to see this venture completed before stepping into the next. I just like to have a few steps planned in multiple directions depending on the path I end up going.” Granite hues followed his gaze toward the fireplace, the soft crackling of the wood one of the most comforting sounds to her as a finger tapped upon the knuckle of her opposite hand. “Point in case, I already have sought to meet Lady Cress as I find that I might come to enjoy whatever partnership may come of that. Full circle, hm?” 

“Full circle indeed…it seems you’re already one step ahead of most then, Lady Gray.” He reached over, tracing the rim of his now empty cup. “So, we’ve an idea of what you’d like to do after your most pressing need is addressed, let us turn our attention to that most pressing need.”

Sharp blue eyes glanced across at her with a devious edge to them. “Tell me everything you can think of regarding mister Kylian Levieux - and try not to leave anything out. I intend for this conversation I plan on having with him to be a rather…intense one.”

Upon feeling his gaze on her once more, she met it with her own yet again. Prior to this whole mess, she hadn’t known very much of Kylian simply that of his job title and the bare minimum of the work he handle for her husband when he was alive. However, Wren had not only done her digging on this new web of a network she was entwining  herself in, she had made sure to learn what she could of the man threatening Cordelia. Pressing her lips together briefly, she prepared herself to dole out those details. “Mister Levieux… financial advisor with deep pockets. Married, though I believe rather estranged as would be typical of most marriages in our society. From what I’ve gathered is that he spends more of his time and coin on women that are not his wife than anything. He takes a larger cut of his clients money investments than necessary and if I’m correct, I do not believe they’re even fully aware of it.” A stark pause came as she lingered on the last words, considering her next carefully before deciding to continue.

“His primary tactic seems to be blackmail, which has been no different than what he has threatened me with, which as you can tell, I’ve not taken lightly to.” 

“I don’t imagine many would take kindly to such behavior.” Ricard lifted a hand, tapping at his chin lightly for a moment before pushing up out of his chair and moving over to the drink cart. “Can I get you a refill, Lady Gray?” He picked up the carafe, bringing it over and refilling his cup, waiting for her response patiently, the wheels in his head already turning. 

If Levieux had a tendency to blackmail, spend money on women, and most importantly - spend money that wasn’t his that meant there was going to be a paper trail that multiple people were likely looking at…which in turn meant he was going to have to be careful. A little extra caution never hurt anything.

“Any idea where he tends to spend a majority of his time - or if he has an office, where it may be located?”

A hand lifted, palm toward him in denial of his offer for a refill. “No, thank you.” She replied with the gentle shaking of her head, though as his next question came, she continued further. “I believe my late husband did most of his visits with him either in our home or his own, however I do know he holds office in the Pillars within the city not far from his residence. If you wished, I could have my warden deliver what details further that she has for him. I would have brought it along, although I wanted to test the waters before doing so.” 

There was a low chuckle as Ricard eased back down into his chair, the carafe set aside for the time being and his newly refilled cup settled between his hands once again. “Understandable, given your only experience with financial advisors had been with Levieux and the fact that I was an unknown entity.” He smiled, charming grin in place once more. “I don’t believe I’ll need any additional information, Lady Gray - what I have is more than enough to have Mister Levieux…dancing to the tune you’d like him to dance to in no time.”

The smile was in place yes, but there was a dangerous edge to it and the wheels were turning. “Actually, one  last question, and I believe I’ll have all that I need. Do you believe his wife is aware of his rather…numerous indiscretions? It doesn’t seem as though he’s been terribly discrete about them…”

Her head tilted to the side and slightly forward, affording him a ‘knowing’ look as she continued to grin as well. “If she does know, she has done a fine job of hiding her feelings toward it. It is hard to say who is aware of these acts he commits, I simply know that Wren was able to learn of them through some digging and she is rather good at her job.” Lids lowered as her eyes fell to her hands, fingers toying with the rings on her fingers again out of simple habit though eventually returned her attention to Ricard. “Either she doesn’t know, knows and hides it, or knows and just doesn’t care. Dear woman.” 

“Hm - or, one other possibility…she may be under the impression that there is nothing she is able to do about it. A falsity that I’m quite certain mister Levieux would be happy to continue to ensure she believes. It’d be a shame if she were to learn that that were not the case and there were, in fact, several options available to her.” He lifted his cup, taking a short sip followed by a low hum. “It seems I have a few meetings to attend over the next couple of days - my week has suddenly become quite entertaining.”

“Oh, good, I was worried it would be too much of an issue,” her tone almost sounded as if she were teasing in a way as she adjusted in her chair, changing one leg crossed over to the other. Cordelia couldn’t help but chuckle dryly as she glanced to the fire with a smirk. “It’s a shame…” she began, trailing off slightly when her gaze found his again. “… a shame you’re a soon to be married man, Lord Blythe.”

“Ricard. Lord Blythe is generally reserved for my father, or for painfully formal events. There are a few within my circle who prefer to utilize my last name instead, simply calling me Blythe - but I leave that up to your discretion and preference.” Once more the cup was set down, his hand resting against the arm rest as he tilted his head ever so slightly with an easy, playful smile. “Is that so?” 

Darkened lips pressed together before the tip of her tongue caressed her bottom lip just so. She was perhaps overstepping and likely being a bit too forward but social boundaries had never stopped her before when she was in a private setting. “Very well then, yes that’s so, Ricard.” A pause allowed for her to take a long calculated breath before she continued. “I would say pardon the blunt observation but I’m not quite sorry.”

“And I would say that there’s nothing to be sorry for. You’re allowed to have your observations, be they blunt or not.” His smile widened for a moment before a low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he reached for his cup, taking another sip of coffee. “Hm, there may be some out there who share that sentiment - I can be quite the good time, I assure you. But as it currently stands I have made a promise to another and will see it through. Whether it is in business or in a more personal setting…I keep my word.” He lifted his cup again, taking a much longer sip. 

“Admirable,” she stated with a clicking of her tongue and a gentle shrug of her shoulders. A slight tilt of her head from side to side signified her dignified defeat in the moment. “I suppose I should be thankful for that considering our business together, then. And since that is settled, I feel it is now as good of a time as any to get out of your busy schedule and be on my way.” Hands pressed to either side of the chair she sat in to push herself to standing, placing her clasped hands now rested over her abdomen. 

“As you wish - I’ll send a missive once I have news for you. As previously stated…I don’t imagine it will take longer than a week.” Ricard set aside his cup before standing as well, offering her his arm before motioning towards the door. “I can walk you out if you’d like. It can be a bit of a maze trying to find your way back to the main hall.”

A brief nod came with a quiet hum. “A week will do more than fine, I look forward to your update.” Her eyes flicked to his offered arm and originally opted to see herself out but at the last moment allowed herself to accept the gesture with a faint smile. “Very well, I wouldn’t want to be rude with your hospitality.”

“I’m sure it will be an…interesting read. This way, Lady Gray.” He offered an easy smile as he guided her towards the door, pushing open one of the double doors and guiding her back through the series of halls that he seemed to have no issue with, but could easily cause problems for one who wasn’t as familiar with the path, eventually coming to the main hall once again. He stopped just short of the front door where the same staff that had greeted her upon her arrival were waiting once more. “It was lovely to meet you, Lady Gray - I look forward to our future meetings. I’ll be in touch soon. Please, let me know if I can be of service in any other way prior to our next meeting.” He released her arm, taking a small step back and offering a small bow as the staff members went about gathering her things and bringing them to her. 

She followed at his side with a prideful sort of demeanor about her as she typically had. “It was equally as lovely meeting you, Ricard. And please, Cordelia.” There was a chuckle as she stepped away from him and gathered her furs to wrap around her shoulders as she called back to him before stepping through the doors out into the cold. “I most certainly will do so and anticipate our next meeting all the same.” 

Ricard watched her go, waiting for the door to close before loosely crossing his arms over his chest and turning on his heel to move towards the stairs and back to his office. “Vincent?”

“Yes, sir?” The staff member appeared and followed a step behind, listening attentively. 

“I need you to send a missive to Baines. I want to know every little detail there is on Kylian Levieux and his wife before the end of business tomorrow. Also tell him to…check in with the local herbalists. He’ll know what to look for.”

“...I…as you say, sir.”

Ricard’s gaze cut to the man for a moment before pushing the door to his office open and walking inside as he wandered over to his desk, opening one of the drawers and pulling the cigar case out, pulling free and unlit cigar and clipping off the end as he retrieved his lighter and settled back behind his desk. As he moved to light the cigar he couldn’t help but think that the coming days had the potential to be quite entertaining indeed.

Collab writing with @promethea-silk

[satocidal]

I forgot about the bengali 💀 but yes, I've heard of it

And omo, it's like

My country is heavily christian but probably not in the ways you would expect

Like, ppl don't care much about the bible and all that besides holidays, being anti lgbt and being offended if you don't practice a religion 💀

It's more of an effect of not being let to practice religion during the communist days ngl (Revolution was in 89 and was bloody af)

But we got cool traditions for Christmas such as "colind" (going from house to house and singing to get money and sweets), we have the goat (which is basically made out of paper and there's a whole scene around it with a doctor and a rroma person and all that. Boys used to make a competition out of who has the nicest, most colorful goat). We got the bears (which are many times actual bears costumes. As in, made of their fur. They use drums and roll in the snow). After new year we go sing again but spread grains of rice for luck. We have to wear red and new things on new years (even money in our clothes) to attract luck. My parents used to gently tap my forehead at the first thunder of the year with a metallic spoon for a "clear, smart mind". On 1st march we have mărțișor, which means giving tiny things with red and white strings. We have the easter and we make eggs red and have a competition of cracking eggs one against another and washing our faces in the morning with money and a red egg. We have a special dessert given at funerals (colivă). And the weddings? Weddings are so fun. We crack glasses for luck. We dance. Cars honk in the whole city and people have fun. We have traditional dances and music and a costume. At my sister's wedding, my brother (as per tradition) was at the front door, negotiating with her husband, who had to bribe him in order to pass 🤣. We "steal" the bride and the husband has to negotiate to get her back.

I love the traditions in my country, tbh. They're loud and colorful.

Not all christians have the same traditions from what I gathered.

There's also the "devil's eye" which is basically someone looking at you and having intense feelings of either hatred, jealousy or admiration. It can be undone with an old tale singing you have to "catch" by hearing it from someone else or it can be lessened by wearing red.

Vampires are based on one of our old leaders, for example. Our vampires are scarier tho (strigoi).

The legends we have. Oh my god. They're quite scary and so cool.

~🦊

Wait I FORGOT TO ANSWER THIs😭I’m so sorry baby

Ok ok ok we have similarities sweets💀 but like y’all so cool fr (had me in the second para itself lol)

So we don’t have any similar festivals but the weddings? So we do this thing where the bride’s sisters and cousins and all steal the shoes of the groom and he has to negotiate em back and it’s just. Weddings are just a way to make money for bride’s cousins (I’m the literal best negotiator when it comes to getting money🫶)

And we have that devil’s eye thing too—I don’t believe much into it but yes

[camgoloud]

a couple days ago the lovely @nancywheeeler​ tagged me to do an ao3 wrapped here! i have had a Very busy weekend so i am only now getting to actually posting, but here are my belated responses:

Works published: 5 at the moment (with at least 2 more i’ll be putting up before the end of the year; possibly one or two more than that if i can get my act together and finish up the treat(s) i’ve been chipping away at in exchange to my main assignments in a couple holiday exchanges. busy end of the year for me!)

Words written: 41510 posted this year so far—more than i thought!

Hits: 3647 on my 2022 fics

Bookmarks: 118

Most popular by kudos: Do my friends think I’m dying? (or do I just need to go to sleep?), my singular to-date contribution to the ted lasso/colin hughes fandom and first foray into redditfic (which by the way was SUCH a blast to write that i think i’m going to have to do it again sometime soon. i ought to be more sorry about that than i am)

Most hits: look at the desperate man (omg rip to this fic... worked on it for a little bit this summer when i was feeling particularly angsty about Some Stuff i was dealing with. ran out of angst steam halfway through the final chapter because my life improved lol, got re-possessed by various locked tomb wips around nona release day, and now i kind of just don’t ever want to look at it anymore. maybe i’ll finish it someday?)

Longest: same as previous

Shortest: shovel talk (in f major) (most of which was hurriedly written in one day as a last-hurrah before nona came out to smash my entire life into bits!)

Most comments: inside problems which people have been VERY nice to me about agghhhh

Fic that made me cry: any discussion about the fics that did maximum emotional damage to me MUST mention syntheseas’ INCREDIBLY ambitious and well-written nothing but dark and sound, which i reread following its most recent update. if you’re a locked tomb fan and you’re not already keeping up with this fic... well you need to be. basically. shoutout also to @forjodssake​’s feeling good was easy when he sang the blues, which i just read this thursday and have STILL not recovered from—AMAZING character work!!!

Fic that made me smile: so many! but my favorite comfort read for the last year and change has been @nancywheeeler​‘s four weddings and no funeral. melts my heart every time! cannot recommend highly enough :)

Gifts: does this mean gifts given or gifts received? unclear. anyway in terms of gifts given—do my friends think i’m dying was my tribute to @nancywheeeler​‘s excellent good old-fashioned lover boy, and i’ve got exchange fics i’ll be posting for a few people shortly. for gifts received, there’s whatever comes out of those exchanges!

Collaborations: none this year—or ever before, actually! BUT i am very very interested in the prospect… 👀 friends/mutuals/likeminded individuals active in any of my fandoms, if you’ve ever got an Idea you want to bang on about together or are particularly interested in fleshing out any of the half-formed Concepts i toss out into the void, hit me up and maybe we can make something happen! (well, hit me up whenever my dms are working again, anyway… the shadowban glitch which i’ve been living under for going on a MONTH now is a curse upon this earth)

Events taken part in: yuletide 2022, and the 2022 locked tomb holiday exchange!

thanks again em for the tag! in turn i will tag @aberfaeth​, @rnanqo​, @palamedes-sextus​, and anyone else who’s interested! (and who actually sees this—unsure if any of you will get a notification when i post this, due to the aforementioned shadowban :/)

[acelucky]

NYE Post

I love a good NYE post where I summarise the ups and downs of the year and put into thoughts what I’m looking forward to next year. I try to keep it brief, I rarely succeed. I feel this is essentially like those old fashioned round robin letters people still occasionally do in Christmas cards!

Bad bits - All the World Events/cost of living and energy crisis/War and weather aside... I finally caught covid, an old friend passed away in horrible circumstances, my dear bunny Cloud died in June, a relative has fallen very ill and may not have long left to live and at the start of the year my mental health was in shocking shape. I also broke my wrist playing 5-aside football with work in September.

The Good - I completed an amazing course of therapy which has left me feeling so much more confident and happy in myself - it really has changed my outlook on life. I saw the Francis Bacon exhibit at the Royal Academy of Arts in March, I’ve also visited several fascinating museums and exhibitions. There’s been lots of concerts, the most amazing being seeing Placebo again at Portsmouth Guildhall, seeing Joe Jackson with my dad and after years of trying to see them live, getting to see Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds at all points east festival with @cassandrafey  My husband and I had a long road trip up to the lake district to visit his family as well as see where he grew up and visit some of my favourite places too, it was lovely. I did a 27 and a half mile walk with work for charity (The Surrey Three Peaks challenge but we got a bit lost), it was the most physically difficult thing I’ve done in my life and I was so proud of myself. For my birthday we went to Longleat Safari and stayed overnight nearby - we fed the lorikeets and the seals, it was absolutely perfect.  In October my husband and I went abroad for the first time since June 2019, we went to Rhodes, Greece and it was beautiful, relaxing and romantic. We had a lovely wedding anniversary and went to the Theatre to see Swan Lake. And finally we had a 3 night family holiday to Bruges where we experienced all the magic of late Autumn/cold crisp winter and saw all the Christmas lights.

New Year’s Resolutions - I pretty much have one this year and that is simply. To be more mindful. More mindful about what I spend my money on, what I eat, how I take care of myself, how I react to situations, what I reveal about myself at work, how much I drink at comedy gigs, what and who I spend time and energy on. 

Looking to 2023 - On the one hand next year already has some very big plans and will be busy, but due to this my plan is to keep other times quieter than usual and focus more on me and the relationships I hold dear/my home. I’ll still be performing comedy but not doing as much or chasing it, I’ll continue to run the comedy night’s I run and will still perform once or twice a month at new gigs/the best gigs/gigs worth doing and am doing a Split show at Brighton and Ventnor fringe festivals, but that’s it. I want to focus more on the funeral industry and potential career change and my writing.

Plans for 2023 - There’s a few loose ones like my husband and I hopefully going to Ireland for a week. But set in stone the biggest adventure I have is going to New Zealand with my dad in May (and a night in Singapore) to explore, show him my favourite places and see family. We have Beltane Festival at the end of April at Butser Ancient Farm and in September I’m off to Budapest with the wonderful @cassandrafey to see IAMX. Oh and we may have bought tickets to see Def Leppard and Motley Crue in London....

So that’s my re-cap for the year, whether anyone reads it or not, it strangely makes me feel better knowing I’ve written it all down and can reflect in time to come.

In the meantime, I wish you all a very Happy New Year! 

(Photos are of: Cloud the bunny, Sunset in Rhodes, me on my birthday, The Lake District with my husband, Bruges)

[oldsalempost-blog]

The Old Salem Post

                   Our  Local Tamassee-Salem SC Area News each Monday except holidays                                          Contact: theoldsalempost@gmail.com                              Distributed to local businesses, town hall, library.                            Volume 7 Issue 15                                                                                                  Week of March 25, 2024                https://www.tumblr.com/settings/blog/oldsalempost-blog                                                         Lynne Martin Publishing

EDITOR: I hope you supported the delicious breakfast fundraiser on Saturday by the Salem Fire and Rescue Department.  It was absolutely a treat to enjoy the kind of breakfast many of us were raised on. And, most of us turned out pretty good!  Maybe that is what our world is missing:  good home cooking and sharing love around the table!         LynneRMartin

TOWN of SALEM:  * Visit the Downtown Market every Sat, Winter hours 9am-1pm. The  Easter Community Egg Hunt  is Saturday, March 30th at 10AM at the Town Park.  Bring your basket.                                        April 13th at 5PM with be the first Downtown Car Show.  The Fire Department will be selling food.    

SALEM LIBRARY:  Hours Monday 10am-6pm. Tues-Friday 9am-5pm. Closed 12-1 each day for lunch.  Self-Defense Class:  Wednesday March 27th 4pm-5:30pm at the Salem Community Building.  For adults and anyone 10 and older may attend, but must be accompanied by an adult.   Registration is required. Class size limited.  944-0912 for more information.

Jottings from Miz Jeannie  by Jeannie Barnwell.  Four Words to NEVER Say                                     Upon hearing of a sudden death, the four words that you must NEVER say to a friend are: What do you need?  These words require that a stunned mourner  must be responsible for performing a household inventory when what she really needs to do is to remain NUMB.  Years ago, 25 year old son Allan was killed in a traffic accident. These are unsolicited gestures that I will always remember:  *a basket of breakfast needs-- muffins, coffee, creamer, cute paper plates & cups   *  Sue placed a book at the door for visitors to sign  * Lola prepared a spiral notebook in the kitchen to record food brought by neighbors  * then a shopping bag appeared with necessities of the paper variety.  Oh! Wait? Shouldn't we call the neighbors to be sure that there is no duplication?  NO! Shouldn't we find out what the bereaved family needs?   No! They are not responsible  for knowing what they need while planning a funeral, welcoming out of town guests, and coming to grips with the reality that their life will never be the same   Do not take time to form a committee. YOU are responsible for immediately tending to this family .   I love you Oconee County!  Remember that you are a woman/man of the RESURRECTION! Miz Jeannie 

ASHTON RECALLS    by Ashton Hester      MICA MINE WAS PLANNED IN SALEM IN 1944 -              (The following story was in the February 10, 1944 Keowee Courier). . .Four or five mica mines will be opened up in Oconee county within a few weeks, a representative of the Colonial Mica corporation of Asheville, N.C. stated yesterday. He did not state where all the mines will be located, but mentioned that one will be in Salem and one will be in the Whetstone area. . .The representative is A.K. Frost, who is staying in Walhalla this week. He said the purpose of his trip here was "to locate mica and to arrange to open up mines". . .Persons who have mica on their property and are interested in selling it should contact Mr. Frost at Hotel Isaquena or Arthur Brown, president of the Walhalla Chamber of Commerce.                                                                                               .                                       

JOCASSEE VALLEY BREWING COMPANY,(JVBC) & COFFEE SHOP* 13412 N Hwy 11 Open Wed–Sat 9am-9pm and Sunday 2pm-7pm. Events this week:  Wed:  Singer-Songwriter night hosted by Rick Malec at 6:30pm. Food:  Blue Ridge Grill.   Thursday:  Old Time Jam Night at  6:30pm  Food:  Blue Ridge Grill  Fri:  Music: Rachel Van Slyke at 6:30pm Food:  Fish Fry Friday and more by the Blue Ridge Grill.   Sat– Music: Josh & Molly Johnson at 6:30pm Food: Blue Ridge Grill                    Sun:  2pm-7pm.  Happy Easter! More info 864-873-0048 * Proudly serving  fresh brewed Pisgah Coffee Roasters

Many People Still do not know and are amazed  about this Food Opportunity: 

The Clemson Area Food Exchange has been selling produce and table items from the farm in Pickens, Anderson and Oconee counties for the last 15 years.  SALEM is on the drop off on Tuesday 4:30pm -6pm, hosted by  Sisters Restaurant on the porch, 281Stamp Creek Rd. Order between Friday pm- Monday noon. First two orders complimentary, then $ 20/ year per household. Order on line at Clemsonareafoodexchange.com                                        

LOCAL BUSINESS:  PRIORITY ONE GRADING: Septic tanks, Water lines, Land clearing and more. Call 864-903-3458

2024 UPCOMING EVENTS                                                                                                                                         .     

April 26th, 7 PM Friday Evening Wellness Event:  Reclaiming Our Inalienable Wellness  Doors open at 6:30 PM  Free event hosted by ENAC featuring speaker Meredith Orlowski, AFMC, INHC.  Bring your friends and family along. Gain Energy, Lose Weight, Feel Happy, & Save the World While Doing it! 

Mother’s Day Afternoon Tea on Saturday, May 4th  from 2 PM-4 PM:   Join us for a special afternoon and treat yourself to delicious goodies, hot tea, and a guest speaker!  Our youngest guests will enjoy manicures and a craft!  $10 per guest.  All funds will be donated to support the Eagles Nest Art Center.  RSVP and find more information:  Kayla or Emma Lusk at 864-903-0681

Oconee Mountain Opry:  May 18th at 7PM.   Jef Wilson, West End String Band, Mystery guests, comedy and more.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

The Eagles Nest Treasure Store is open every Saturday morning 9AM-12PM.  We are accepting donations during that time or call 864-557-2462.  We still have many beautiful gowns short and long to choose from.

For Information on sponsorships, events, volunteering, donations, or rentals call 864-280-1258 or email us at eaglesnestartcenter@gmail.com.  Check out our website Eaglesnestartcenter.org as future events are added.     

Rentals for birthday parties and class reunions.  $100 for 4 hours minimum for the commons area                                                              

                                                                       CHURCH NEWS                                                                                                                                                            Bethel Presbyterian Church (PCUSA),  580 Bethel Church Rd Walhalla, 29691. Worship at 10:30 a.m.   March 31 Message by George Harper, Easter Sunday with Communion.                                                                                                                   Boones Creek Baptist Church, 264 Boones Creek Road, Salem invites you to join us for regular worship service on Sunday morning with Sunday School at 10am and followed by worship at 11am.   Please join us for Easter Sunrise Service Sunday, March 31 at 7AM at the Devil’s Fork State Park at the concessions stand/bathhouse area. After service everyone is invited to breakfast at the church fellowship building.                                                                                                                                              

Salem Methodist Church: 520 Church Street, Salem.  9AM for breakfast, 9:30AM for Sunday School, and 10:30AM for Worship.  You may tune in to our live service on Facebook or view it later on our website  Maundy Thursday or Holy Thursday will be held this Thursday at 6:30PM and Holy Communion will be observed as we remember the events surrounding the betrayal and crucifixion of our Lord Jesus Christ.  Easter Sunrise Service 7AM with breakfast to follow. Please know all are welcomed and invited. 

Sharing Good News:  Tune in to 96.7 a Good News Christian Radio.  The morning speakers share how they have come through struggles and challenges of life.   Christians have failures, short comings, problems with relationships, and children.  The speakers share how they have grown and overcome trusting in God’s Holy Word and His promises in the Bible.

CONSERVATION Thoughts:    “Human beings cannot live without Mother Earth, but the planet can live without humans." "The Earth does not belong to us: we belong to the Earth." "Harmony with land is like harmony with a friend; you cannot cherish his right hand and chop off his left."  authors unknown

What is a megalopolis?  Continuous urban areas where millions of people live.

Find an Easter Service--The Son will Rise

[idontlikejazzsonowitsmyname]

I'm going to tell you guys a story about a man, who we're just gonna call John.

John has just returned home from his family holiday in Spain. he's spent the last two weeks enjoying the sunshine, visiting different beaches, and swimming in various pools with his gorgeous beautiful kick ass wife and children. But as he unpacks his suitcase, his heart sinks. His favorite t-shirt, the one he's worn to game nights, and college parties, to both weddings and funerals, has cherished for years, is nowhere to be found.

At first, John tries to convince himself that it's just been misplaced, hidden beneath and within the endless abyss that is traveling luggage. He checks every pocket, every nook and cranny of every bag, but the t-shirt is still missing. Panic sets in as he remembers all the different pools they have visited during their trip. How can he have lost it? He's been so careful with their belongings, always double-checking that everything is accounted for.

As the realization dawns on him that he may never see his beloved t-shirt again, John's distress only grows. He can't shake the feeling of loss, the emptiness that came with the absence of something so dear to him. His brother tries to console him, but he can't be comforted. The t-shirt is irreplaceable, a part of his identity, a symbol of his very being, practically a more permanent part of his physical self than his own flesh and bones.

John's brother tells him to "get good" and to find a new shirt, the old one was fading anyways, johns wife tells him he should find a new shirt, to try searching within the yawning abyss that is the Penny's store for a different shirt to piss off his stuck up in laws with.

And search he does.

Days turn into weeks, but John's obsession with the shirt only intensifies. He scours many shops, searching for a replacement, but nothing can compare to the original. He even considered going back to Spain to retrace their steps and search for it, but the idea of leaving his family behind and the expense of the trip made it impossible, that, and John can't follow directions for shit, as well as the fact that John wouldn't be too comfortable identifying himself as the owner of the lost T-shirt.

In the end, John has to come to terms with the fact that his favorite t-shirt might be gone forever. He can't help but feel a sense of loss, as if a part of himself is missing. But he knew that life would go on, and he would have to find new ways to hold onto the memories of his mortal vessel. Perhaps, he thought, it's time to let go of the past and embrace the present. But deep down, he knew that he would always miss that t-shirt, the one that has been with him through so many adventures and held so many cherished memories.

That is until he realized his bitch-ass, but still cherished, wife's been wearing said shirt to bed for the past few days, and because John is a "blind-ass bitch" he never noticed it until one day, he woke up earlier than usual, experiencing the warm embrace that is elderly joint aching, upon confrontation John's dearest, but less dearer than usual, wife answers his pleads for answers by saying "i wanted to see how long it took."

The end

I don't have a picture of the shirt on me, because I'm not John and unlike John, who have access to that shirt all the time, i would not.

But i do have this stock image of a better version of the shirt, one that isnt the world's most horrible mixture of bleached green and pink dye, but doesn't have two unicorns having a gay wedding stitched onto a sleeve.