#the weather was also exceedingly pleasant.

[ghostzzy]

im not a fan of being outside my house generally but i spent 7 hours out doing things today and i got to see many creatures including:

a turtle

an iguana

many children (playing baseball)

two rabbits

and the full moon (kind of like a creature)

[theinnerunderrain]

Picture Perfect [Yan!Albedo x Fem!Reader]

Warnings: Yandere themes, overprotective Albedo, suggestions of isolation, infantilization, timid reader, suggestions of synthetic creations and bioethics.

-

He figured that granting you the opportunity to explore your artistic side would be a fantastic educational opportunity. In addition to providing you with an activity to do, it would also be excellent to strengthen your general abilities and learn about the practical sketching methods. It appears that you have been in a terrible mood lately, perhaps as a result of him restricting limitations for roaming outdoors owing to the recent cold and threatening weather. But he was simply being considerate of your physical health, the last thing Albedo wanted was for you to catch a cold and be bedridden for a few days. Or worst case scenarios, it would be for you to somehow slip down a few patches of snow, tumbling to some sort of severe injury or perhaps even to your demise.

So there you are, perched a few feet from Albedo, with a sketchbook and a pencil in your fingers, prepared to scribble away. You attempted to sketch the man's contour by beginning with light, airy outlines and gradually adding detail in an effort to adequately reflect the expression on his face.

Even though you didn't want to admit it, it was exceedingly pleasant to be able to hold a pencil, which reminded you of the days when you used to sit outdoors in the sunlight and draw for a few hours. You ponder whether Albedo had made the initial suggestion because he knew about this small pastime of yours. Naturally, you won't mention that you are appreciative of his generosity since you do not want to feed the flame and encourage him to feel good about himself.

Of course, you won't get to enjoy this pleasure very frequently, so it's best to enjoy it now rather than later.

You briefly avert your focus from the picture in order to have a closer look at the young man and attempt to effectively convey the shape of his eyes. But as soon as your eyes land on his face, your gaze immediately shifts away, and you're astonished to see that he was also fixated attentively on you. His cyan eyes probed into your figure, making you doubt if you were the intended subject or if he was.

But you've always felt small and insignificant within Albedo's presence, despite the fact that the majority considered the man to be a kind character. He wasn't particularly imposing, although you weren't certain if the unwavering gaze in his eyes was one of affection or if it represented something more...sinister, something that merely considered you as a lab rat, one that he could manipulate to his will.

Or perhaps that's something that only Albedo could fully comprehend, or maybe even he didn't fully understand himself?

"Would you like me to change positions? I understand that sketching someone from a different vantage point can assist you to better understand their facial characteristics."

Perhaps the effectiveness of this practice was greater than he had first believed.

Albedo intended to be able to spend quality time with you, and since you shared some of his interests in painting, he wanted you to have a place where you could express your creativity. Why not make that interest a part of a joint activity that you can do?

You jerked out of your reverie as Albedo abruptly spoke. Once more straying from the image, your eyes finally came to rest just above his neck, too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

"N-No…. It's alright I wasn't thinking straight."

You whispered faintly before starting back up your work on the image, attempting to get rid of the unpleasant feeling within your chest as Albedo's eye bore hard into your frame.

Ah, yes. Albedo observed how your cheeks would turn a slight crimson anytime you were forced to look into his eyes, which signaled to him that you were a touch uneasy. The look would only linger for a little amount of time before returning to your sketch, possibly in an effort to capitalise on your embarrassment?

You were as enthralling as he had envisioned, perhaps even more so than he had thought. Your habit of biting your lips—possibly an instinctive action to help you concentrate on your work more effectively, was rather more indulging than he anticipated. Or the way your hands would scrawl frantically in the shadows to the picture as your eyes would squint momentarily at it, trying to make it just right.

How fascinating.

The following time, perhaps he ought to select objects that necessitate more physical exertion? It goes without saying that the purpose of this study is to observe how you react to different aspects of a situation, not for any other strange reasons. But he cannot help but envision what you'd appear like if you were stunned or perhaps even fearful. Although he isn't the most amorous individual, he is welcome to your affections and would be more than ready to give you a bit of a nudge if it meant you'd be more so.

He is, nevertheless, very happy with the current circumstances. Being befuddled and pleased that you were drawing him and making an attempt to offer him something. You probably won't know this for a while but Albedo would likely keep your sketch of him in an extremely secure place, almost like a parent securing their child's first drawing in a picture frame except yours is hidden from hindsight. You're not given that many opportunities to create something for him, although it is mainly his idea, so the idea of keeping something that you made, felt rather exciting to him.

Albedo values each and every invention you produce, thus he will treasure it tremendously. Even though he would certainly chastise you in some way, he would be somewhat amused if you wrote a poem expressing how much you loathe him.

You should appreciate and value all you produce, and he should plunder all he creates.

Thus, it makes perfect sense that he would hold you in great reverence as his most essential creation.

His greatest creation.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Thursday 5 December 1833

8

10 ¼

great deal of rain last night and rainy morning - tolerably fair about 9 tho’ the walking people held up their umbrellas - breakfast at 9 ½ - at my desk at 10 ½ - Lord H- who was to have come at 9 did not come till 11 and then for a few minutes to say his portmanteau was not come - had hardly gone away before he returned to introduce Mr. Henry Canning, our consul general here, a gentlemanly pleasant man - he was exceedingly civil - half tried to persuade me to go by Rotterdam - should be in time for the packet of Wednesday and then be certain of being in London on Thursday - but owned that if the weather was not very bad I might be in London on Monday or at farthest Tuesday by the Columbine from here at 6 on Saturday morning - then came Mr. Delaval, steam packet agent, sent by Mr. Canning - he said the journey to Rotterdam took 90 hours and with my heavy carriage might take now from 120 to 130 hours roads very bad from Bremen often no regular road at all - made of heather and sand till getting into Holland - had I set off yesterday morning could not have been in time for the Saturday’s packet from Rotterdam but if off tomorrow might be in time for that - but he thought me right to keep to my determination of going by the Columbine - had I arrived by 12 on Tuesday night it would have been an hour too late to embark the carriage even embarking it at 11 would have been dangerous it was such a stormy night - this satisfied me - I might pay in Danish money - would send a clerk to settle all this tomorrow - Lord H- then brought Mr. Stäcker, ‘a sort of a gentleman’ as Lord H- afterwards said secretary to our English post-office who offered to do anything he could for me - my Lord staid till after 2 - I strongly advised his never minding his things not being come, but go with Mr. Canning and dine at Mr. Jenish’s (Yanish pronounced) which he did - Dinner at 5 ½ - before and after wrote 3 pages and ends, amusing enough account of the journey, to Comtesse de Blucher,  and 3 pages pretty close to Lady Harriet de H- account of the journey perhaps less amusing but with 1 or 2 more particulars e.g. Thomas being knocked up and said I felt as if I had more right to tell her of my disappointment in being too late for the packet yesterday morning etc giving a little more way to my feeling about my poor aunt - begged her to give my compliments and thanks to Mr. Browne for managing so well for me - nobody could be more gentlemanly and considerate and useful than Lord H- said I expected at least 1 more letter - begged her to inquire for it at the hotel Royal and forward it to Shibden - begged Comtesse de B- to give my compliments to Comte Vargas de Bédémar and thanks for all his kind attention and say I hoped to be in London on Monday or Tuesday - told her of the good dinner and most excellent wine Comte d’Ahrenfeldt a gave us - said we wanted not this attention more to make us charmed with Copenhagen and all the kind people we saw there - adding ‘whatever may be the faults of the English,  they are not ungrateful’ - regretted leaving ‘the woody Funen unadmired because unseen’ - observed on the good roads there and going the 4 miles from Nyborg to Odense in 2 35 hour much to the credit of Prince Xtian’s government - ‘Oh! that the King in his most gracious pleasure would make the prince governor of Schleswig and Holstein also that his majesty’s high ways might be better’ - concluded very truly yours and affectionately yours to Lady Harriet - then wrote 3 pages and 1 end (not close) to Comtesse de Bourke saying I feared I could not give no good reason for not having written long since but that I had a letter ½ finished some time ago which I should have sent had not Miss Ferrall begged me to wait to know what her luggage coming by sea cost as Madame de B- wished me to pay it and add it to the account - should have been happy to do so, had I not been thus unexpectedly hurried away by a distressing account of the dangerous illness of a near relative - In the hurry of the moment had packed up my account book and could not easily to get to it therefore hoped she would excuse my giving the amount of all I could possibly think of her paying i.e. 300 fr. which I should be obliged to pay to Messrs. Laffitte on my account whenever it best suited her convenience - said Miss F- was a most agreeable sensible useful compagnon de voyage never making difficulties - the de Bluchers in great favour with the royal family and universally liked - had dined with them twice, and she would have been pleased to see how nicely all was managed - he very gentlemanly - sure she would like him if she knew him better - 3 very handsome children - she would be proud of them - Madame de Rosenkrantz inquired after very particularly seemed pleased with her remembrance and spoke of her in a manner she must have been gratified to have heard - should be very glad to hear from her - whenever I was in England any letter directed to Shibden hall near H-x Yorkshire would be sure to find me - concluded very truly yours then wrote 2 pages dated Hamburg Thursday  evening 5 December to my aunt to be ready to send off from London telling her her so indifferent account of herself and talking of her leg taking bad ways had determined me to set off as soon as I could - had not written before because I came along with the post - she would see me nearly as soon as my letter - not to be nervous about me for I was quite well and had had a very good journey - she might be sure of my coming - to tell Cordingley to have my room ready and a room for Thomas ‘I shall provide for Eugenie’ - wrote out journal of Tuesday and yesterday and came to my room at 9 - very fine day and night – F57° now at 9 ¾ am - took two spoonful of Epsom salts

Mr. Delaval said 1 German mile = 24,000 Rhenish or German feet and 1 foot English = nearly 13 inches German  For comparing all kinds of weights and measures recommended Crusens’ Comptorist 2vols. 8vo. – last edition several years ago

[georgesmith00x2]

Hydraulic Hose Pipe Repair Gainesville GA

There are many things which you need to do not forget earlier than shopping hydraulic elements for your agency. The maximum clear and critical thing is to find out a reliable and green hydraulic components manufacturer. There are many methods to discover the list of China producers, discover a Trustworthy Hydraulic Parts Manufacturer Articles such as the Internet. Here, we are going to inform you ways, in which, and from whom you can purchase goods that worth your investment to your industry. We will show some ideas, places and advices to help you finding out a dependable, truthful and modest manufacturer which allow you to expand your enterprise.

Hydraulic cars are driven by using hydraulic pumps and are best for running numerous distinct structures on a bit of system the use of the identical motor and pump device. The basic premise or operation of all hydraulic systems is the equal, Hydraulic hose pipe repairs it is what's known as a closed loop machine that permits a stress level to be constructed up in the gadget, which in turns provides torque or pressure to transport parts.

The hydraulic cars are also rated in several different ways as well. This will include the displacement of the motor, which can be constant or variable. Displacement in standard refers to the volume of the hydraulic fluid that is required to show the shaft of the motor, that's what gives the mechanical energy of the motor. Generally, this is measured in inches cubed or centimetres cubed. The higher the displacement the extra liquid this is required but additionally the extra strength generated. Fixed displacement motors have the identical torque in any respect motor speeds. A variable displacement motor allows for one of a kind speeds and torque, which lets in the motor to adjust output based on the load on the machine.

Hydraulic automobiles are also designed for precise viscosities or thicknesses of oil or liquid within the gadget. Oil temperature is also an essential attention, specifically while working in commercial forms of packages or in high temperature settings. The viscosity rating is vital if the equipment is to be operated in very bloodless weather due to the fact oil must be adjusted to a lighter weight oil in cold temperatures to preserve it flowing through the sealed system.

Depending on what type of utility your hydraulic pump unit is used for determines the precise hydraulic cylinder kind required. While there are some greater popular healthy cylinder options, custom replacement cylinders are to be had to healthy dimensions, mounts, or load capacities.

Hydraulic cylinders are widely known for reliability situation to positive conditions. Obviously, Regular Maintenance of Hydraulic Cylinders Articles the lengthy-term functionality of the hydraulic cylinders depends on how it turned into manufactured. Researches indicate that a well-designed hydraulic cylinder, manufactured the use of the great manufacturing manner will characteristic well for a lifetime without bothering you much. This is possible simplest if the hydraulic cylinders are difficulty to routine checks and preservation. You will understand the hydraulic structures are complex ones and so is its protection. This article is all about the not unusual upkeep this is wanted for the hydraulic cylinder systems.

There are hoses on the market which are drinking water safe hoses and are labelled as such. Some hoses come with caution labels that they may be no longer to be used for ingesting. But there are some that aren't labelled at all or the “exceptional print” is so small it's miles difficult to peer. But even supposing the hydraulic hose pipe repair, it's miles a clever concept to flush the hose thoroughly before taking a drink. And seasonal cleansing is exceedingly endorsed.

So, what is the pleasant way to easy out an existing hose?  A suitable way is to submerge your hose in a bucket packed with an aggregate of water and bleach and permit it soak for one complete day.  It is suggested that you use two teaspoons of bleach per gallon of water.  When it is finished soaking, unroll the hose and fasten to the aspect. Let water run via it for no less than 15 mins.

[gingerhotelsindia]

Things To Do Around Vapi And Finding A Comfortable Stay

Vapi in Gujarat's Valsad region is possibly one of the best instances of the state's increasing progress. Popular as one of Asia’s biggest industrial hubs, Vapi is a great contributor to the economy of Gujarat with amazing hotels in Vapi.

 Though there have been reports of growing pollution in the state as a result of this success, the stunning natural sites, pristine beaches nearby, and a dynamic local culture make this industrial metropolis a surprisingly attractive tourist destination.

 Vapi is noted for its historical legacy and spectacular ancient temples, which contain tremendous religious value and are also of interest to history buffs and archaeological enthusiasts. It is located on the banks of the River Damanganga near the southern end of the state. If you're going through Gujarat or heading to Daman, a stopover in Vapi could be a pleasant surprise.

 Local city buses are a popular source of transportation for Vapi residents. You can also hire auto-rickshaws, which run throughout the city. Private taxis or cabs are available for hiring and are possibly the greatest method to experience the city.

 Vapi is not your typical small town. Because of its exceptionally welcoming setting, it is a wonderful location for getaways that are both diverse and unique. Vapi is a beautiful city with many things to explore. Everything around you will overwhelm you once you arrive in Vapi. Vapi makes everything worth celebrating, from festivals to spirituality to food and culture.

 Let’s see the top things to do along with hotels in Vapi near railway station.

 To begin, there are the Daman Beaches to discover. Daman is only 12 kilometers from Vapi and is rich in heritage, culture, and magnificent beaches. If you want to spend your vacation enjoying pleasant weather, beautiful green settings, sandy coastlines with blue waters, and heritage monuments, Daman is the place to be.

 Daman is a charming tiny town surrounded by Maharashtra, Gujarat, and the magnificent Arabian Sea. Because Gujarat is primarily a dry state, many visitors rush to Daman to spend a relaxing evening with seafood and wine. It is also in close proximity to good hotels in Vapi.

 The Vanganga Garden, located about 15 kilometers from Vapi, is also one of the most gorgeous tourist destinations in the area. The garden is seven hectares in size and is located on the Silvassa-Vapi road. It is beside a gorgeous lake and has lovely grass and colorful flower beds. The gardens are lined with jogging paths, so if you are a fitness fanatic who enjoys exercising in nature, this is the spot for you.

 Visit the Rustic St. Jerome Fort. The massive St Jerome Fort in Daman, located 12 kilometers from Vapi, welcomes you with its river-facing entrances. The fort is also known as the Nani Daman Fort, and it contains a magnificent statue of St. Jerome, among the most renowned fathers of the Catholic Church, within its walls.

 Other attractions in the compound include Our Lady of the Sea Church and a Jain Temple. This magnificent fort provides a fantastic view of the surrounding fish market, nicely contrasting the antique with the modern. It is a memorial to the past, and the scenic surroundings and quiet mood make it among the most popular tourist destinations in Vapi. It is also in close proximity to good hotels in Vapi.

 The winter season, which lasts from October to March, is the greatest time to visit Vapi. Summers may be exceedingly hot, and the city receives just light rain in July and August.

 With so much to explore and discover, a well-timed trip is needed for sure. To increase the quality of your stay, good hotels in Vapi with excellent services are a must.

 Vapi, located on the banks of the Damanganga River, is the second-largest town in Gujarat and is home to various tourist attractions. Ginger Hotel Vapi is conveniently placed on the Mumbai-Surat highway (NH-48), between the bus stop and the Vapi train station.

 Ginger Vapi offers 90 beautifully appointed rooms with modern facilities, in-room dining, a multi-cuisine restaurant, a well-equipped Fitness Centre, and a boardroom-style meeting room that can seat 21 people.

 Why are Ginger hotels the best option for you when searching for hotels in Vapi near railway station? It is because of the distance between important landmarks.

 The hotel is close to the Vapi Railway Station, which is 4.7 kilometers away, and the Kolak River bridge is 850 meters away. The famous Empress Mall is only 650 m away from the hotel, and you can also experience delectable dishes at the hotel's in-house multi-cuisine restaurant, The Square Meal.

 Ginger Hotels are surely everything good you can ever wish to see and experience in a budget stay. So, what are you waiting for? Book your stay at Ginger Vapi, Gujarat today!

[totalenvironmentindia]

Which is the best affordable apartment in Bangalore?

Are you looking to circulate to a bustling metropolis like Bangalore?

 It is the ideal place for humans in search of adventure and an interesting lifestyle. With day-by-day hustle and bustle, breathtaking scenery, exceptional eating places, and exquisite nightlife options, this tech hub of India additionally gives an array of low-priced residences. In this article, we will look at what makes Bangalore so unique and the exceptionally affordable apartments within the metropolis. We’ll cowl all factors from vicinity to amenities that will help you decide which condominium could be satisfactory in your stay in this vibrant metropolis.

Luxurious residences highlights

Assuming you're searching out a low-cost apartment in Bangalore on a budget, right here are a few luxurious flats that you could don't forget:

1. Brigade Gateway: located in Devanahalli, this is one of the maximum pricey and sought-after residential projects in Bangalore. With world-magnificence amenities and specs, Brigade Gateway is in reality well worth thinking about in case you are seeking out an affordable yet costly condominium in Bangalore.

2. Sobha Lake garden: another costly residential task located in Whitefield, Sobha Lake garden offers 2/3 BHK residences with all of the cutting-edge facilities that you could assume from a luxurious apartment.

3. Godrej Emerald Isle: another expensive residential challenge placed in Brookefield, Godrej Emerald Isle gives three BHK flats with all the excessive-cease specifications that you might assume from a luxurious condo.

Four. Status Jindal town: that is a highly-priced gated community placed off Tumkur avenue which offers 2/3/4 BHK residences with global-class amenities. If you are searching for a less expensive but pricey rental in Bangalore, status Jindal city ought to simply be on your list.

Top-rate condominium in Bangalore facilities

If you're trying to find a less costly rental in Bangalore with top-rate services, the appearance no similar to Adarsh Palm Retreat. This pricey rental complex gives a diffusion of top-notch facilities to its citizens, which includes a fully prepared gymnasium, swimming pool, walking track, tennis courtroom, and much extra. In addition, the complicated is effortlessly positioned near many of Bangalore's fine buying department stores, eating places, and different sights.

Is that a pleasant time to put money into a total environment venture in Bangalore?

Bangalore has been one of the maximum happening actual estate markets in India for some time now. The town has visible superb growth in terms of Infrastructure, task opportunities, and overall development. This has ended in an increase in the call for flats and other residential belongings kinds in Bangalore.

The total environment task is one of the maximum popular initiatives in Bangalore. The project is developed through overall environment constructing systems Pvt Ltd, that's a leading actual property developer in India. The employer has been involved in many prestigious projects throughout India.

The total environment venture is located in Banashankari’s sixth stage, which is a well-advanced locality in Bangalore. The project offers 3 BHK residences at very low-priced prices.

The overall surroundings task is equipped with all of the current amenities that make lifestyles secure. Some of the facilities encompass a swimming pool, fitness center, kid's play vicinity, landscaped gardens, and lots greater.

Making an investment in the overall environmental challenge could be a smart selection as the demand for flats in Bangalore is growing daily.

Total environment assignment area

Bangalore is one of the main metropolitan cities in India and is also the capital of the southern country of Karnataka. The town is understood for its best weather and cosmopolitan lifestyle. It's also a hub for data technology (IT) companies. The price of dwelling in Bangalore is exceedingly excessive compared to different Indian towns, however, it's far nevertheless lower than living in Western nations.

There are numerous affordable flats in Bangalore that provide excellent lifestyles to its residents. A number of these residences are positioned within the important enterprise district (CBD), at the same time as others are placed inside the suburbs. The expenses of those residences vary depending on their vicinity, length, and facilities.

Here's a listing of a few less expensive apartments in Bangalore:

1. Brigade Gateway: This condo complex is positioned in the suburb of Malleswaram and gives 1, 2, and 3-bedroom flats at affordable prices. The complex has a swimming pool, health club, and youngsters' play location.

2. Prestige smart city: This condo complex is positioned close to Whitefield and offers 1 and a pair of bedroom flats at less expensive charges. The complex has a swimming pool, gym, and running song.

3. Salarpuria Sattva East Crest: This apartment complex is positioned within the suburb of Marathahalli and gives 1, 2, and three-bedroom residences at affordable expenses. The complex has a swimming pool, health club, yoga room, etc.

Get in touch

Internet site:- totalenvironmentindia.Com

Call:- +91 +99307 72000.

[ara-abroad]

11/10/2022

For this to make absolutely zero sense, as my emotions usually do, it’s essential for me to set the scene. It’s a sunny autumn day in a small town in France. Exactly where I wanted to be in the world. The air is crisp and breezy, balanced by the sunlight warming your skin just as the wind cools it. I had just finished a great day at work, and the students I worked with today had all been attentive and excited to have me in their classroom. At this particular moment, my friends Isma and Lau had taken a pit stop at the mechanic on our way to the gym so I decided to take advantage of the weather and wait outside. Right there, sitting on a curb in the parking lot of the French equivalent to Pep Boys, I suddenly burst into tears.

The thing about dropping everything and living in a country where you don’t speak the language is that despite having the expectation that it’ll be hard, you can’t predict when it’ll make you crack. Today was seemingly perfect, I ate lunch with friends, I was productive, I walked 6 miles, I got dressed up for work. At yet I was exhausted and exasperated and underneath it all, lonely. The words to describe it came to me as I tried to will myself to sleep tonight… It’s this nagging feeling that even though everyone has been exceedingly kind to me, it feels like no one is kind to me because I’m me. (Which is no one’s fault and is only solved by continuing to make effort to get to know all the friends I’ve made so far.) But today in particular, the fact that there is nobody here who makes plans and thinks to invite me because, I, Ariana, am pleasant company, felt crushing

I’ve always known I was never the planning type, I always liked showing up at my friends house last minute to hang out. But here I can’t do that. Nor am I the type to invite myself– I always existed under the philosophy that if I don’t get an invite, I’m not wanted. Honestly, I didn’t expect taking social initiative to be the most difficult part of going abroad. I didn’t expect it to be the thing that would require most of my energy. And I also didn’t account for the fact that it will take people much longer to get to know me–and vice versa– in French. Either way, I’m exhausted and I have to do it all over again tomorrow and the day after. Because that’s the only solution, and despite the fact that patience is the one thing I lack, I have more than enough determination. Plus my French is getting better even though most of the time I feel like it’s worse. Well actually, it just feels like my brain is mush all day. But hopefully one day soon my brain will become solid again. And maybe that day is tomorrow.

Until then,

Ara

[guzmansanchez53]

A Trendy Replica Bottega Veneta Bag

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[dourpeep]

Okay so like,, what do you think about kazuscara? I've been seeing things about them and stuff, so I was wondering about your opinion on having a relationship with them/being friends with them.

Ooo this is definitely an interesting one. I know that this ship in particular got really popular as soon as Kazuha was leaked months ago-

The dynamic definitely will be quite the thing.

(con't under the cut :D)

Kazuha is gentle, and deeply values people who are straightforward. He's kind as well, humble, exceedingly introspective, and believes that people are able to choose their fate and should not be controlled.

On the other hand, Scaramouche is brash and seen as two-faced, switching between his pleasant persona and what we assume to be his true one depending on which would best serve him at the moment in question. He's authoritative, sharp tongued, but also does have the same sort of introspection that Kazuha shows.

While Scara also (going off Surpassive Cup lore) shares the idea of controlling your own fate, he appears to lean more towards the extreme of it.

While Kazuha is mutable, going where the wind takes him and taking shelter as the weather shifts, Scaramouche takes action and makes his reality as he wishes it.

They're essentially two sides of the same coin (whereas Xiao and Kazuha are generally very similar in their personalities).

Now, once you're added to the mix, we start to see a few different things.

As friends? Hands down would work out.

It'd definitely be one of the friendships where people might question if you're actually friends. Inside jokes tend to be inside jokes to other inside jokes and the two of them are the only ones who'd get exactly why that sign is so funny--Kazuha chucking, a snort from Scaramouche.

You're constantly annoying each other, though the small smile on Scaramouche's face proves that he doesn't take the insult to his badly cut bangs (they're uneven this time because someone Tartaglia slammed the bathroom door open right as he cut it), jokes about how Kazuha's just one poem away from a garden, an offhand comment on how you really should get your eyes checked and also to please never do that again.

It's comfortable, fun, and there's really no hitches or bumps.

Well.

Except the fact that one is very stubborn and the other blasé to a fault. Scaramouche, in some moods, will be nearly impossible to sate. With his temper, he gets snippier, his patience is lower, and he really really can't be bothered with passing the salt so you better figure out how to get it yourself-

And, Kazuha will let it run it's course, knowing full well that he'll be calmed in a few hours. This is partly because Kazuha doesn't particularly like conflict. He'd rather solve things quickly to avoid any further problems...but with Scara being more action-based, this won't sit well with him.

He can only entertain so many light musings in this mood, after all-

This means it's up to you to play mediator and figure out what's gotten Scaramouche so worked up. Lucky for you, it's usually work related so you already have a little list of what's going on

Thus the flow chart was born:

...okay maybe it's not the best.

But! Luckily Scaramouche seems to be pretty satisfied with ranting, so you lend an ear while he paces the room.

But apart from this, he's actually a pretty decent friend. Maybe a bit callous, but hey--what can you do?

As for Kazuha, the main thing with him is he often gets stuck in his head. When you guys meet up, he'll politely decline or stare out the window vacantly. It's often that the things troubling him take up most his mind.

While ranting won't help, just letting him know that you're both here for him seems to help. There's a lingering loneliness and sorrow that you see in his eyes and, as much as it does hurt, you shouldn't pry.

Not to mention if you do (and Scaramouche has tried) he'll wave it off with a small smile and "I'll be alright."

NOW!!!

In a relationship, things change. While friends often do open up, these two are very dedicated in relationships. Full stop.

There's certain things that Scaramouche won't do for a friend that he might consider for his s/o. (or s/o's in this case). Specifically, he's not a vulnerable person. You never really see him as someone to be beaten down because he's always so ambitious and faces his problems head on.

But in a relationship, the dynamic shifts. The ranting still happens, of course, but now he'll silently return home with the jingle of keys only to trudge over to you and Kazuha, and promptly drag you both to lay down with him.

Only in a secure, deep relationship like this will he let it be seen that he's not as invincible as he pretends to be.

Physical touch is another thing that's welcome. As friends, there's the pushes and shoves, but he'll worm his way from hugs making a face or dodge a platonic smooch on the cheek.

In a relationship, he'll seek out the little touches, though slowly, and appreciate the way that you'll wrap your arms around him and rest your cheek on his back. Often, you'll return to Scaramouche half-leaning on Kazuha's shoulder while they sit and watch something as well, Kazuha with his eyes closed and Scara's half-open.

Speaking of, Kazuha's also a bit clingier in a relationship. He loves to slip his hand into yours or Scara's, even just around the house, peeking over shoulders to see what either of you are up to.

Little plants around the house are also his little addition to the space, lively and vibrant.

He definitely does cook for the two of you as well since Scaramouche is too busy to put time to the side to prep meals.

It's really safe to say that Kazuha doesn't change too much, as he's more open and true to himself compared to your shared love. He does, however, have to be the mature one once in a while when he realizes that you and Scaramouche are figuring out a way to get back at Tartaglia for that one comment he made last weekend-

--

I'll stop while I'm ahead aoihfaieh lemme know if there anything specific you wanted to know :DD

[dwellordream]

“...As well as considerable numbers of women among the poor pilgrims following the crusaders, there were always some working women following medieval armies, some doing laundry and kitchen work or nursing the wounded and others providing sexual services. When fighting broke out, women contributed by carrying drinking water and comforting the wounded. A number of aristocratic ladies in addition to Eleanor followed their crusader husbands, and they brought along servant girls and ladies in waiting, swelling the total number of women. 

Eleanor’s own personal entourage must have been quite large but the legend that she recruited a band of armed and mounted “Amazons” to ride with her alongside the crusading knights can be set aside. This improbable story apparently originated with a Greek chronicler’s description of the crusaders’ entry into Constantinople, written at least a generation after the event. The legend was taken up enthusiastically by nineteenth-century writers and is repeated in widely read twentieth-century books on Eleanor. 

The vast army made its way to Metz after a four-or five-day march from Paris and then marched on to Worms, where it crossed the Rhine. A traveler on horseback could average thirty-five miles a day, but Louis’s host was slowed by many persons on foot, slow-moving packhorses, and cumbersome two- and four-horse baggage carts and wagons clogging the roads. At Regensburg in Germany, baggage was loaded on barges to be sent down the Danube as far as Bulgaria, relieving the army of the carts that had “afforded more hope than usefulness” and raised much complaint from military men for holding up their progress on land.

A great deal of the supplies belonged to Eleanor, and her bulky baggage would cause criticism later. Even with her more than ample supplies, she could not have found travel conditions comfortable. A medieval road “hardly existed as a physical object,” being little more than a track connecting towns and villages, often containing impassable mudholes in wet weather. If Eleanor chose not to ride a horse, she could have had herself carried between two horses on a litter, as was common for noble ladies. She and other aristocratic ladies may have ridden part of the way in “chariots,” uncomfortable but highly decorated carts. Wheeled vehicles were not equipped with springs, and nobles usually disdained carts for their rough ride and also for their demeaning associations with peasants and laborers.

…On 4 October 1147, after a five-month journey, Louis and Eleanor arrived before the walls of Constantinople with the crusading army and its accompanying pilgrims. From the first sight of the massive Theodosian walls protecting the western approach, the great city made a powerful impression on Eleanor and her companions, even though at the time of the Second Crusade it was past its prime, the capital of a shrunken and weakened empire. Its great churches and palaces constructed under Constantine and Justinian were still standing and in daily use, unlike in Rome, where the Roman imperial monuments had fallen into ruin long ago. 

The “Great” or “Sacred Palace” overlooking the sea had periodically been enlarged and renovated and had grown into a city within a city. Connected to the palace complex were the nearby Hippodrome and the church of Hagia Sophia, illustrating the links between the emperor, his people, and the Church. Since the eleventh century, the imperial family had abandoned the Great Palace, favoring the Blachernae Palace built next to the city wall at the western landward edge of the city near the Golden Horn. 

It was to Blachernae that Louis was led for his first meeting with the emperor Manuel Komnenos. Odo of Deuil describes the palace: “Its exterior is of almost matchless beauty, but its interior surpasses anything that I can say about it. Throughout it is decorated elaborately with gold and a great variety of colors, and the floor is marble, paved with cunning workmanship; and I do not know whether the exquisite art or the exceedingly valuable stuffs endows it with the more beauty or value.”

At the gates of the city, Louis and his queen were met by a delegation from the city’s nobles and prominent citizens who welcomed them and invited them to meet their emperor. Odo of Deuil, observing the meeting, left a description: “When we approached the city, lo, all its nobles and wealthy men, clerics as well as lay people, trooped out to meet the king and received him with due honor, humbly asking him to appear before the emperor and to fulfill the emperor’s desire to see and talk with him.” Louis, “taking pity on the emperor’s fear,” agreed, and his first encounter with the Eastern emperor at the Blachernae Palace was cordial. 

Byzantine court etiquette with its obsequious obeisance to the emperor scandalized the French, but a concession was made to Louis, allowing him to sit in the emperor’s presence. The chronicler notes, “The two sovereigns were almost identical in age and stature, unlike only in dress and manners.” Eleanor is not mentioned in the account, but it is probable that she was anxious to accompany Louis on his first meeting with the Byzantine ruler to see him and his court for herself.

Manuel Komnenos made available to the French king and queen the Philopatium, a hunting lodge outside the city wall near the Blachernae Palace, and the army and the many servants and pilgrims following it camped nearby. The French crusading army spent about three weeks at Constantinople, crossing over to the Asian side of the Bosporus on 26 October. The emperor took Louis on sightseeing tours, showing him the many churches and their collections of holy relics, and after their tours he invited Louis to dine with him. The banquets at the emperor’s palace “afforded pleasure to ear, mouth, and eye with pomp as marvelous, viands as delicate, and pastimes as pleasant as the guests were illustrious.”

Meanwhile Eleanor and the empress were exchanging letters and becoming acquainted. The wife of Manuel Komnenos was German, the sister-in-law of the emperor Conrad, Bertha of Sulzbach. She had received a new name, Irene, after her marriage and conversion to the Eastern Orthodox religion in 1146. In theory, respectable Byzantine ladies were expected to be seldom seen and never heard in public. The empress’s quarters in the palace were under her sole control, guarded by eunuchs, and men were never supposed to enter—not even the emperor, unless with her permission. 

Yet in the twelfth century, Byzantine women, except for unmarried girls, were no longer so secluded as in earlier centuries, and the empress and her ladies attended receptions and banquets. Empress Irene and her guest Eleanor likely joined their husbands in the evening to dine with them in the emperor’s quarters. Louis, “a simple man who made a duty of simplicity,” soon found the excessive ceremonial and the extravagant titles of the many Byzantine court officials exasperating. His growing distaste for Constantinople was shared by his men as friction arose with the city’s money changers and merchants, whom the French suspected of price-gouging and of disdaining them. 

Eleanor’s impression of the Byzantine capital and the imperial court, however, was not likely to have been as negative as that of her husband and her countrymen. Perhaps Byzantium evoked memories of the sensuality and luxury of life at the Poitevin court, and she savored the contrast between the gorgeous spectacle of the imperial court’s ceremonies and the dull and drab Capetian royal court that she had left behind. Constantinople’s glories opened Eleanor’s eyes to “vast, lofty, undreamed-of possibilities for majesty.”

…In the half-century since the First Crusade, bitterness between crusaders and Eastern Christians had accumulated, building “a wall of incomprehension.” Crusading westerners visiting Constantinople felt inferior to the Byzantines, and they compensated by condemning the Greeks as over-civilized, too soft, effeminate, and degenerate for their tastes. Furthermore, western Christians condemned Eastern Orthodox Christians as heretics, and the chronicler Odo of Deuil reveals the ferocity of their hatred of Orthodox doctrinal errors. 

He writes, “Because of this they were judged not to be Christians, and the Franks considered killing them a matter of no importance and hence could with the more difficulty be restrained from pillage and plundering.” Greeks regarded westerners as coarse and crude barbarians, as shown by Anna Komnena’s account of the conduct of those passing through Constantinople on the First Crusade. 

She wrote, “Now the Frankish counts are naturally shameless and violent, naturally greedy of money too, and immoderate in everything they wish, and possess a flow of language greater than any other human race.” The behavior of the armies of the Second Crusade did nothing to change attitudes at the imperial court or among the people. Complaints about merchants and money changers’ cheating roused the crusaders to violence: they took with force what they could not buy, and they spoke openly of conquering Constantinople.”

- Ralph V. Turner, “Adventures and Misadventures on the Second Crusade, 1145–1149.” in Eleanor of Aquitaine: Queen of France, Queen of England

[starshipsofstarlord]

‘Tis The Damn Season | Hamish Duke

Warnings; includes angst, implications of smut (not too detailed), breakup, heart ache, sacrifice, pain, and angst again

Based of ‘tis the damn season by Taylor Swift

If I wanted to know who you were hanging with 

Whilst I was gone, I would’ve asked you

Belgrave, home. For a while, you had thought that Hamish had served as that shelter, but the brick road broke, splitting the pair of you apart. It was as though the pair of you were ice, thawing over the time that the independent plan had been brewing.

This place, it was to be missed. It was a great step of a risk that you were to be taking, and so was the weighing of your heart. It felt as though it would be difficult to carry, it would remain with you, surely even after you crossed and exited the borders of the town.

Leaving overall, let alone him was to be exceedingly difficult, any attachment had to be released, like a bird from a cage. But birds in cages had routines, they’d be fed, and get affection, but this one wouldn’t. He’d just be abandoned, left to fend for himself.

The man that had been the only dream that had rendered your brain at night placed the guitar into the back of your car. He knew that it, what you had, was ending.

This was the end, and alternately not the one that Hamish had been expecting. If you were leaving university behind you, in the reflection of your rear view mirror, he would be left standing, alone and broken hearted.

It’s the kind of cold, fogs up the windshield glass

But I felt it when I passed you

“Goodbye Hamish.” It felt like a cruel lyric that would be used in a song, a line you’d harmonise on stage.

Getting into the drivers seat, you allowed yourself a first and last glance through the chilled glass, blinking away any tears that threatened to spill.

He was a good man, there were great things ahead of Hamish Duke. But none of that included you, this was his journey now, you had already made the choice of yours.

And this was the price of it, the freezing of your heart; the truest and purest love that you had ever felt. No matter, you had already paid it, and caused pain for both Hamish and yourself.

There’s an ache in you, put there by the ache in me

But if it’s all the same to you

It’s the same to me

Turning the ignition on, you proceeded to drive past everything that you had ever known, all that you had love for.

The smallest distance seared a wrenching ache within your chest. It felt like a punishment for putting yourself first for once, it made you concerned, surely it shouldn’t have.

The car’s slow pace had Hamish biting his lip, containing any of his avid disagreements to this. He understood your priority, respected it even, but none of that made watching you leave any easier.

If anything, it gave him an urge to turn and head to a bar or something of the sort. But he remained, his heart sinking lower as you got further from his line of sight.

It shouldn’t have heart him as much as it did. It was common knowledge that first loves weren’t eternal. Time would only help him accept that cruel fact, or so he thought.

So we could call it even

You could call me “babe” for the weekend

Hamish’s body was under bliss, he had found his solace once more. He fit perfectly upon your nude form, it felt like his soul was rebuilding itself.

But he had to remember that you were only here for the weekend, you’d soon be gone again. And he would fall apart all over, just like the first time.

“Babe.” The blonde moaned, his hands intertwining with yours, he had missed more than just pleasure from your entanglements. He had beyond missed the entirety of your being.

The name that you were keen to lap from the tip of his theoretical tongue was a misplaced comfort. It shouldn’t however have the effect of such comfort, not when the pair of you were claiming to have been trying your hardest to move past what you had once been.

It was an old and tiring routine, that you were prone to returning to. The sinful actions were bad for each of your mental health, but it felt right to argue against it.

 The wisest decision would be to forget Hamish, and every notion he inclined you to feel, but it was too difficult, especially when he had you seeing orgasmic stars.

‘Tis the damn season, write this down

I’m staying at my parents’ house

“Aren’t you seeing any old friends from university this Christmas?” The question was poised by your mother, she was far too concerned by the fact that since your arrival you had hardly left the house.

It was even blurred by snow outside, not too much to the point where you’d have to be shovelling it from the porch, but it was enough. It was beautiful, perfect for this time in the season.

In fact, you loved the snow. But the memories that bombarded your mind from the wonderful weather had your mind rolling back to Hamish, specifically how blue his eyes appeared amongst the frosted surroundings.

The thought had you sniffling, holding in a post breakup breakdown from your mother’s eyes. She thought you were sick, demanding that you get something for ‘that runny nose of yours, it could be contagious’.

And the road looks real good now

And it always leads to you and my hometown

The exact second that you entered your car, your hands sternly hit the steering world. Were you not allowed to follow your career through the workings of the world without punishment?

Because it sure felt that way, as though you were being a rebel in a war, however the battlefield was that of your heart. It was tearing slowly, and had been over the entirety of your hopeful escapade.

It cried regularly to be united back with Hamish, to its rightful home. It was suffering from separation anxiety from him, clouding the gaps in your brain and making them think about the tall, handsome man alone.

And the road taken looks real good now

And it always leads to you and my hometown

Every time that you were in your car, it felt like you were leaving home all over again, and Hamish would be standing by, with his upset aura, trying his hardest to keep himself together.

It was the worst feeling, knowing that exiting town was essentially the same as stabbing him in the heart. There was no feeling worse than knowing that you had hurt Hamish, you still felt more than something for him.

Whenever you’d come by of a weekend, which was every couple of months, occasionally each few, you’d take the pill of seeing him. But not too long ago, you’d realised how cruel the self invitation really was.

He had been growing used to life without you, and then you’d reappear, lounging in his bed, only to rip away from him and cause a terrible ache in his heart when you’d return to your performing duties. It was unfair, so you refused this month to allow him to know that you were back, otherwise the painful pattern would only continue, and there’d never be an end to it.

I parked my car between the Methodist

And the school used to be ours

Belgrave university was right beside the pharmacy, it only made you feel actually sick. The memories from the school were returning, there were so many of them, it was as though they were trying to anchor you in the snow as you stepped out of your car.

Almost all of them included Hamish, he was the main attraction of the university anyways. But perhaps you had stood there reminiscing longer than you should have, because it seemed that you had drawn some unwanted attention.

Hamish. He was walking from the entrance, a sombre expression had been held upon his face until he saw you. And then his face was rivalled with hope and confusion, you hadn’t informed him that you were back yet.

He’d already expected you to be returning for the holidays, mostly for your family, however, you hadn’t told him, and from the wideness of your eyes, the realisation kicked into his instinct. You had had no intention to.

But he continued to walk towards you anyways, trying his best not to smile and coo at the adorableness of your red nose.

The holidays linger like bad perfume

You can run, but only so far

The thought of making a leg for it, sprinting as far away as possible, or getting back into your car and steering away certainly crossed your mind.

This interaction was certainly not a miracle of the season, it felt like a curse, ascending from hell itself. You hadn’t wanted to see him, but the universe had interfered and made a collaboration.

I escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave

But if it’s okay with you, it’s okay with me

However every time you came and left, this building confrontation had been avoided, with you packing your suitcase for the umpteenth time, zipping each of your mouths shut and hearing nothing but the sound of the wheels rolling across the concrete of your family’s driveway.

Now, to contradict it all, the pair of you were stood upon even ground, it wasn’t outside of either of your homes, it was strangely the perfect place for this. And you found your dread slightly dissipating, aware that this was always going to happen, the road had just ended.

We could call it even

You could call me “babe” for the weekend

He was confused as to what to say or do. This was the first instance that he had seen you again in a place other than in his sheets, it was overwhelming.

“You haven’t been answering my messages.” His tone was calm, but in it, pain was presented, his sad blue eyes also justified that aspect of his aura. “Here for another weekend?”

It came across as less pleasant than he had anticipated, he was stressed to say the least. Something happened to him, it was out of the ordinary, he had wanted to speak to someone, and the first person that had came to his mind was you.

‘Tis the damn season, write this down

I’m staying at my parents’ house

Wringing your hands at the sound of his voice, it was visible that his presence made you nervous. That wasn’t what he wanted at all, he already scared himself after that sheathing of wolf fur wrapped itself around him and chose him as its vessel. His intent wasn’t to make you mirror his discomfort.

And so he uncrossed his arms, putting them into his trouser pockets and tried to look as relaxed as his exterior could fathom.

“I’m staying with my parents, it’s the holidays and all. Had to come home somewhen.”

And the road not taken looks real good now

Time flies, messy as the mud on your truck tires

But you knew, that it was all to return to him. That was the universe’s plan for you, if you ever tried to get away, it’d only force you to reconnect once again. There was no escape, and a part of you was not complaining about that.

The other however was outrageous, nothing could ever be easy, it all drifted down shore from the plan, the ultimate dream. Using your voice to sing was the goal, however here you were instead, mentally cursing and dragging the name of the planet through the darkness inhabited in your neurons.

Now I’m missing your smile, hear me out

And the road not taken looks real good now

Right now, all you wished was to stay. His smile was inviting you to do, and so you stepped cautiously towards Hamish, hands going to his face and pressing the pads of your fingers to his cold cheeks.

Snow began to fall, but you could care less. It already felt like there was a blizzard forcing to search for shelter, and here it was, in the body of this one man. He was different from the rest, he was your road, the one you wanted to continue on, rather than drive away from.

And it always leads to you and my hometown

Sleep in half the day just for old times’ sake

His eyes shut at the contact, it was far more passionate than the times you had seen him during your occasional visits. Don’t get it mistaken, the sex was great, however it was a coping mechanism, rather than a true example of love.

There had been something missing, at first you assumed that it was the lack of labels between the two of you, however you proved yourself wrong after realising that it was the proximity that the pair of you had once had.

The loyalty, the trust, the knowledge that the two of you had traded. It had always been mutual, and so was this heartache, it wasn’t fair for the pair of you to be apart, yet still suffering from more than the distance.

I won’t ask you to wait if you don’t ask me to stay

So I’ll go back to L.A. and the so-called friends

There was one singular thing that Hamish desired to ask. However it’d be a two way street of cruelness if he allowed it to slip. But if he gave it permission to leave his mouth, then perhaps it would be a different story.

Everything could go back to normal, the way things had been. Except from him of course, he was forever changed, he was the house to a creature so unbelievable, yet proven real, that he could not just dispose of it. That would end in his death if he were to split from this monster within him.

But he would also die if he had to be distanced mentally from you any longer. He took one long stride of his leg, cupping the edges of your face, and clashed the two of your lips against his own. The contact was hungry, needing to swallow any last breaths that could possibly be breathed in each other’s presence.

If he had it his way, he wouldn’t break the unison against you, however he had to, otherwise he would surely have to catch your tired body, not that that would be the worst thing in the world.

“Stay, don’t go again.” It fell, permitting a moment of silence in the air. This required thought, but the answer could be sudden, if it were, then that would be the true response that he was seeking. It would be an instinct to remain here, with him, at your home.

Who’ll write books about me if I ever make it

And wonder about the only soul

It made a sigh tumble from the hollow of your throat, as though you were shocked by his defiance and desire. However you were not, the grand query was to come to pass sometime, it had been eventual, until now.

He had finally ripped the band aid from the soreness upon his beating chest, and done so to your own. He had opened the wound, allowing it to breathe in the surrounding air, making your own hitch as you thought of an appropriate reply.

It wasn’t professional to be so swayed by his proposition, however, what about all that you wanted to accomplish? The career you were pursuing, the town of Belgrave wouldn’t be so kind to permit you the reputation you were seeking. 

“I don’t know what to say.” The truth left your lips, the mind that was being stalled by all the possibilities, the two paths that were duelling for your footsteps, was suffering from total confliction. There was no easy answer, either way, you were to be giving something you loved up.

Who can tell which smiles I’m fakin’

And the heart I know I’m breakin’ is my own

“How about yes?” He was desperate to hear it, the confirmation that you would remain with him through the tough time that he was painfully living through. Your absence, albeit how it was completely your choice, did not help the situation. 

Hamish needed someone that not only he could rely on and trust, but would help him. Somebody whom could keep him in touch with his human side, and away from the likening to alcohol that he had picked up upon now that he was legal to purchase it himself.

“Okay. I’ll stay for a little, but no promises to it being permanent.” You had been swayed by not only his engorging blue eyes, but also the pain, the pleading that echoed behind them. He was desperate for you to remain with him, and you feared for his mental health if you didn’t compromise.

To leave the warmest bed I’ve ever know

We could call it even

Even though I’m leaving

The pin had dropped, the choice had been made. The sacrifice bled out from your heart, the same red as the sheets that were currently around you. Hamish stared up at the ceiling, his hand softly stroking the skin of your shoulder.

“It’s funny, every time that we spend the weekend together like this, I tell my mum that I’m seeing an old friend from school.” The sound of your voice pursed a smile to Hamish’s face, he huffed a small, almost wolfish laugh.

“That’s kind of the truth, if you think about it.” He pulled you closer, placing a slow yet short kiss upon your lips, to which you reciprocated. This had been the best choice that you could have made, for not only the man nestled in the bed beside you, but also yourself.

And I’ll be yours for the weekend

‘Tis the damn season

We could call it even

It was both a selfish and selfless call that you had taken. One that perhaps one day, you would kick yourself for making, but right now, you held no regret to it. Hamish had been your first love, and fate had it so that he would also be your last.

“My mum would be over the moon to know that I was with you rather than one of the girls that I took bio with.” She had forever been fond of Hamish, even before the two of you had became an item. Even your father had a likening to the young man. The pair would pleased that the two of you were still in communications.

“What are we now?” He asked seriously, he had reeled enough answers from you for one day, however it was another thing that he would have liked to know. He didn’t merely want you to be his only over the weekend, he wanted it to return to the way it all was, before your first departure, he’d ensure that you had already taken your last ticket out of town.

You could call me “babe” for the weekend

‘Tis the damn season, write this down

“Us, I suppose. The equals to one another, as we always were.” His dimples showed at the clarity that you provided. Until he felt a pain in his back, it cracked up through his spine as he felt it begin again.

The dreaded transition, the curse was sparking to life in the worst possible moment. He needed you to be away from him, if he harmed you, then that would surely kill him. He couldn’t have a mark from his own hand upon you, it would be against his will, but the blood would have still been drawn by himself.

I’m staying at my parents’ house

And the road not taken looks real good now

Time flies, messy as the mud on your truck tires

Hamish’s sudden seating in bed had you frowning, your hand caressed his his shoulder, however he snarled at your touch, harshly shrugging you off from him. To say you were worried was an understatement, in the light of the afterglow, he had always been quiet and calm, but this was something you had never witnessed. 

If you believed in anything beyond this world, perhaps you’d have suspected he was possessed by something greatly evil and controlling. But they were all tales, fiction and fairy tales that were drawn into illusions and dreams.

“Are you okay?” He wasn’t, and if he didn’t get space from you, then you too would be suffering. And so he spat the only thing that he could think of to get you to spook, to run far away from him.

Now I’m missing your smile, hear me out

We could just ride around

And the road not taken looks real good now

“I’ve changed my mind. Leave!” It was as though he roared the words at you, and he had you in a haste to scramble for your clothes and leave his room. This wasn’t supposed to happen, none of it. But he knew that he had been too greedy, he couldn’t be alive with this horrible circumstance that was inside of him and have you. 

It may not have been fair, but it was the safest route. In the end, he had figured it out, you couldn’t help him with this. He didn’t want to tell you, he didn’t want you to know that he was a monster. 

You never believed in the supernatural anyways, and that was now for the best. It would make you safer, and more importantly, have faith that he was just a jerk, not some killer that hunted under the full moon.

And it always leads to you and my hometown

It always leads to you and my hometown

You had escaped from your hometown. But Hamish would always draw you back, one way or another...

[bonktime]

Weather The Storm

Chapter 2: Hand Over Fist

Ezra (Prospect) x f!reader (no y/n) 1861 Lighthouse au 

Rated: E (just the whole story)

Previous // Masterlist // Next

Art by the incredible @honestly-shite​ I’m so blown away 🥰💘

Summary: Ezra settles into life in the north but he can’t seem to wrap his head around the keeper. As they dance around each other a clash with another local brings some truths into the light.

Warnings: Language, violence, a boat load of sexual tension, a bunch of victorian sexism, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort? (smut will come)

Note: Written in the 3rd person so i guess you could read as oc? but I never name or describe her, except being short. I had loads of fun writing this! Loads of descriptions of the weather because that’s who I am and also touching. Next chapter will probably be a little late but please forgive me!

Wordcount: 3630

~~~~~~~~~

The wind was like nothing else. Four days at sea and Ezra was fairly sure it was making him deaf. It roared and screamed through the wood of the boat like he's never heard. Rattling anything loose and merging with the groans of the beams and the waves into a great cacophony of noise.

There was a knack to sailing in winds so strong, one he was very glad he'd got the hang of previously else he would probably have been tossed overboard that first morning. Even so the violent movement of the ship beneath him had been a surprise. Any time he put anything down he had to keep a close eye or it would end up on the other side of the room. It made sleep exceedingly difficult when being tossed out of the hammock was a possibility, so he was lucky to get a couple of hours between shifts.

The work was hard and one particularly malicious seagull had made off with a biscuit he had been about to take a bite out of, combined with the lack of sleep and the rolling waves, it had made him irritable at best down right foul at worst. Still, the rest of the crew were likable and only jibed in a good humoured way at the newcomer. And, whenever the bite of the cold got too much, he had a new memory to warm him up. Even so as they came into port on that forth morning, he was picturing that warm bed and the flickering firelight. 

On the walk back along the sea something caught his eye. He stopped to pick it up.

 ⧫⧫⧫

Ezra arrived just as the keeper was leaving the lighthouse. She saw him crossing the causeway, as the sun peeked over the horizon, turning the sky every colour from deep blue to the brightest pink. He waved at her as she waited for him to approach, unable to help but admire her. Dressed in blue, she contrasted against the sky and its reflection in the water. She positively shone. As he got close, he smiled.

"It would appear I was wilfully incorrect about something"

"About what?" She cocked her head at him

"There is colour here. But to witness it you must have patience. "

He took a step closer. holding out his hand "I discovered this on my meander back to your charming abode, I believe you would appreciate it." In her hand he gently placed a chunk of sea glass, worn soft by the sands but still bright deep blue. He stayed close as she held it up to let the sun shine through. She could smell the sea on him, salty and something else. Looking up at him she wondered why he had been so thoughtful. "It's beautiful, thank you" he smiled at her, eyes creasing warmly.

 ⧫⧫⧫

A week passed and they talked in the mornings but their days never seemed to line up so they could only see each other for meals. Ezra spent his evenings in the living room, reading by the fire whenever he was home, and his mornings wandering the coast to distract himself from the woman in the water. 

Once on his walk he met the other keeper. The man had looked exhausted as if he was carrying a weight on his shoulders. He didn't say much, just to give his thanks to the other keeper and then he'd hurried away.

Further down the shoreline he liked to watch the market get set up. Watch the women waiting for the fishing boats to get in, preparing to gut and fillet and sell. He chatted to them sometimes, offering a hand carrying out the tables if they needed it. One girl always gave him a cup of tea after, laughing at his jokes and smiling. She was pretty and definitely would have caught his eye before. But now? He was friendly enough, and polite, but just couldn't work out why he was so uninterested. It wasn't like him. She made a nice friend though, and it was pleasant to get to know someone apart from the keeper even if he wasn't staying too long. And even if he didn't know the keeper all that well.

Ezra mentioned a woman he met at the fishery to the keeper. As much as she knew and liked her, it stung in a way the keeper couldn't quite identify. She was kind and soft and pretty and just the opposite of her. All of her hard edges and bitterness and isolation. But she didn't have any good cause or right to feel envious. Still, she thanked him for the warning, should she come across them together at least she wouldn’t be surprised.

 ⧫⧫⧫

There was another week of only seeing each other in the wee hours before both Ezra and the keeper had a shared day off.

He offered to come with her into town and help carry things. Mostly he just wanted her to show him around which she knew but she agreed anyway.

The sun showed itself as they walked together warming their skin. He watched the keeper raise her head to bask in it, smiling as she tried to explain what she needed from town with him interrupting after every item to ask questions.

She was glowing and it was starting to affect Ezra. Her skirt was pinned up a little above her ankles so it didn't dip in the sand and she'd forgone her usual headscarf and shawl to enjoy the sun. She had laughed at him as they'd left, at all his layers, called him a southern pansy. He'd grinned "Not everyone is so accustomed to this frigid weather. The cold bites those who it has not made an acquaintance with. Not unlike a wary dog."

"If you stayed a few winters here and swam in the North Sea you'd end up as hardy as any of us I reckon" he'd just smirked.

 ⧫⧫⧫

The keeper decided Ezra spoke just the way he did just to confuse people. Every time she’d asked him what a word meant he had grinned, but he did explain without condescension. He had spent nearly an hour chatting away to the grocer when she’d gone to the butcher and the baker. Upon asking, it turned out he had been trying to find a fruit he was fond of, but all the frills in his speech had led to a debate between the owners about what he had meant which he had then stayed quiet during just for enjoyment. When she had gone back to find him he was grinning ear to ear as the two men bickered. She had suppressed a laugh and sorted it out quickly before they had gotten even more irked by the outsider. Ezra had seen the laugh in her eyes though.

The final stop was the bookshop. A small place, stacked floor to ceiling and owned by the keeper’s oldest friend. She was sitting outside in the sun and jumped up wrapping the keeper in a warm hug. 

"Lass you work too fucking hard. I haven't seen hide nor hair of you in Christ knows how long!" 

She grinned; the first time Ezra had seen it. He should make her grin more.

"Aye I'm starting to agree, how're the bairns at this rate they'll have grown a foot before I can see them again. Oh, shit sorry.” She gestured to him “This is my lodger Ezra, Ezra this is Amelia."

He wonders vaguely if everyone the keeper knows can give looks that pierce the soul. He gives the shopkeeper a nod and her face breaks into a smile. As they headed into the shop, clouds began to gather overhead.

"Come on pet, I've got something new I just know you'll love."

The shop seemed ready to burst at the seams. Ezra paroused but couldn’t stop himself listening into their conversation.

“How have you been, really? I worry about you all alone up there.” Amelia asked her eyes full of concern. Ezra subtly rounded a bookshelf so he wouldn’t seem nosey.

“I… Well I’ve been worse like. Every day is easier and I’m not alone at the moment as you’ve seen.”

“You seem to collect sailors, you.”

The keeper laughed “I just like the company! And I like being alone the rest of the time as you well know.”

“Oh aye the company. Nothing to do with,” Amelia lowered her voice “I divn’t nah… the roguishly good looks? You always loved a bit of trouble, dafty that you are”

“Hey! He just rents the room, we’re… friends I guess.” Ezra wished he could see her to gage how she really felt.

“Sure you pet.”

 ⧫⧫⧫

20 minutes later they left, a copy of Great Expectations wrapped carefully in tissue paper and stowed at the bottom of her bag, surrounded so it would stay dry should it rain. As they stepped out a woman seized the keeper's arm, she was accompanied by the vicar and glaring viciously. The keeper swallowed and introduced Ezra, he saw how uncomfortable she was, how her mood had changed since just minutes before.

"The ever elusive keeper shows herself yet again" the vicar speaks, face impassive, "I thought you might have died since you don't attend church, perhaps you'd met god's reckoning after… being so loose with your commitments." 

Ezra watches her jaw clench "I have told you before, when I work the night, I cannot attend in the morning."

The other women smirked "Work the night is one way of putting it." She eyed Ezra.

The vicar sighed "It is disappointing you disobey god's will. Your father should have married you off while he had the chance. Then your husband would keep you in line. If he could see you now, he'd be so ashamed"

Ezra froze but before he could react, he saw the rage pass over her face, fiery and passionate. She couldn't help it, she saw red, couldn't stop herself. She punched the vicar square on the nose.

The other woman shrieked. "What is wrong with you? You've hurt him!" Indeed, blood did start to drip out of his nose but he straightened himself up and grabbed the keepers arm pulling her close and raising his fist to strike.

"You're nothing but a worthless little whore. It's no wonder your sailor left as soon as you-" he was cut off by Ezra's fist, catching his jaw and sending him sprawling.

"I will not abide you speaking to the lady in this manner." He shook out his hand, and stepped over him, bending to seize his hair and pressing his blade to his neck "And to strike her?" He scowled down at the man who was opening and shutting his mouth like a fish. "What is that mantra you holy men spout? Turn the other cheek." The keeper's jaw dropped, she had known Ezra was rough around the edges but to strike a man of God, to threaten him, for her?

Against the incoming storm, it was as if he'd grown. Become huge and monstrous and brutal in a way she hadn't seen, a glimpse of what lay beneath all his beautiful words and pleasant disposition. It moved something in the keeper, something dangerous. Not many people would far defend her, let alone in such a way. 

Lightning flashed overhead forking down to meet the sea, in the light she could see the hard glint in his eye, the one he'd worn when they'd first met, even as he smiled. This was a man who had done far worse and all she could feel was grateful. It squeezed around her heart.

"I suspected as much. You must have forgotten yourself for a moment." Ezra stood and pulled the vicar to his feet, squeezing his arm harshly still baring that viscous grin as he pulled him close and murmured "I'd truly hate for you to suffer another grievous lapse in judgement, who knows what may become of you."

The keeper looked at the other woman "Judge not lest ye be judged? You had better pray for forgiveness.” She stepped forwards shoulders back as thunder rumbled around them “There's a storm coming and your husband works the water. I'd hate for the lord to compel me to make an error." The woman gasped at her a cold glare. Ezra looked at the keeper as she straightened out her dress. He could have laughed at her nonchalance, it gave him pause, how he saw her quiet power. She would make quite the foe. She gave Ezra a nod and he took her arm as they walked away.

He can feel how tense she was through her arm, despite her calm demeanour panic and anxiety were coming off her in waves. They walked back along the beach in silence as the heavens opened, pouring rain down around them. Ezra frowned to himself, perhaps with all the flitting around he had forgotten how to behave. Had lost some of himself, every old sin chipping away at his humanity was taking its toll. He'd come here for some fucking quiet, why did he always find trouble, or make it? Perhaps those years… he wasn't good. Punching a priest though? The keeper was a menace.

Half way he stopped turning her to look at him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were married?" she looked away from him at the waves. White horses were being blown, throwing spray up into the air.

"I never was. He left before we could."

The rain beating down made it hard to look up at him, it dripped into her eyes and ran down her face like tears. The rain and thunder were near deafening as he looked at her face, saw the pain and the other emotion, the one he can't identify.

"What happened?" He nearly has to shout to be heard over the storm and the waves. Reaching for her, taking her hand and feeling the calluses on her fingers.

"What always happens! I fell in love, and I thought he did too. But after, after we. He did what sailors always do." she threw off his hand and stepped back, the sea lapping at her ankles.

"What is it sailors always do? I do not appreciate you painting us all with such broad strokes." Now he's shouting, a bit out of frustration but mostly to be heard as the wind begins to howl, merging sea spray and rain until the only thing he could see was her.

"He sailed away!" She was suddenly very grateful for the rain; he couldn't see the tears that had rolled down her face. He frowned at her a deep furrow in his brow. "And so, he's right! I am a whore and probably everything else too." She looked wild, wind whipping her skirt to and fro. She glared at him, daring him to judge her. "I was relieved! I didn't want to marry him, he wanted to leave and I didn't. I enjoyed what we did!" She pressed her palm to her forehead. No idea how he would react. "He could’ve said goodbye" she whispered it, let the crash of the waves muffle the sound.

To her surprise he tugged her hand away from her face, looking into her eyes, jaw set, rain plastering his hair to his head.

"Let's go home."

Keeping her hand gently clasped in his he led her along the beach to the island.

 ⧫⧫⧫

Both of them were soaked to the bone by the time they had re-entered the cottage. Ezra could feel the keepers hand trembling in his.

"Go change out of that wet garb, I'll light the blaze in the living room and set the water to boil"

She nodded and entered her room as he did his own. He quickly pulled off his wet clothes and tugged on a fresh shirt surprised to hear her call out to him.

"Ezra, can you help me?"

He entered her room slowly, still only in his long shirt, taking it in. The bed was wide enough for two and had as many blankets as his own, there was a small wardrobe and a chest and a stack of books on a bedside table. On top of which he saw the glass he'd given her, not yet added to the chime in the window.

She was in her corset and chemise, back to him, dripping onto the rag-rug on the floor.

"I can't seem to," she was reaching behind herself. "With it wet and my damn swollen knuckles I can't loosen the tie. Please, can you help?"

He swallowed thickly as she looked back at him then away. Gently he reached for her, big hands and nimble fingers beginning to loosen the knot. "I'll take a look at that hand if you would allow me, check you haven't done any tangible damage." She nodded.

As he finished, he couldn't help brushing his fingers across the bare skin of her shoulder. It was soft and warm under his cold fingers. She stiffened slightly and turned to him, looking up at his face. His frown remained but that steely glint was gone, giving way to wide sad eyes. She looked at his hands, big, strong and bruised. She took one in her own, inspecting the cut across his knuckles.

"You needn't hurt yourself in defence of me, I shouldn't have hit him." She gently rubbed her thumb over the swelling to check her hadn't dislocated anything and tried to ignore how he tensed.

"I could not abide his hurting you, not with his words and certainly not with his fist" he turned her hand mirroring her gesture to feel her knuckles, they were swollen but nothing felt out of place. He kept a hold of her hand as he looked back up at her face.

She looked into his eyes, deep and dark enough to fall into. They stared back into hers without hesitation. She held his hand for just a moment longer before letting go. As she did, he turned and left, closing the door gently behind him.

He didn't give her the chance to thank him.

 ⧫⧫⧫

When she had dressed and headed down stairs, Ezra was pouring tea, he looked up. She was still dishevelled and shivering a little.

"Come on, let's get warmed up"

He led her through to the living room and sat her down on the rug in front of the fire handing her a cup of tea. Sitting down across from her he spoke, his legs brushed hers as he stretched out but he didn’t move away.

"What I cannot apprehend is why you don't want to depart this glacial place. You are not treated compassionately and there are locations all over with preferable climates."

She gave a small smile. "Because I like it here, it isn't perfect but I have my friends and my work and my home and where would I go? How well do you think the world would treat a woman like me?"

He shrugged, "People may surprise you. They have me on many occasions. I even astonish myself sometimes"

"Or they'll behave exactly as they always do. People are predictable like that." She sighed and sipped her tea. The warmth of the fire finally took an effect. "It seems we are at an imbalance. You know plenty about me, although not because I wanted you to. How about you tell me where you got that accent?"

He grinned. "I suppose I can reveal a little information. If only for the sake of equality."

So, he told her. Told her about his home, his mother, about when she passed. How he had to work to survive and found that he didn't get seasick. He picked up words and dialect wherever he went, combining them with his own until he wasn't sure what he used to sound like. She had laughed at him upon learning he wasn't a strong swimmer. 

"I can't believe you haven't been thrown overboard and drowned yet! You're unbelievably lucky!" He'd loved the sound.

He missed out a lot of the more unsavoury details of the work he’d done but the whitewashed version was honest enough. How going back to where he grew up still hurt, he had only visited once. Instead, he travelled, worked, and enjoyed himself.

"I don't know. You said I must be lonely here but you, you travel alone. You can't make good friends, you've no home to return to." She watched his face. "It seems you're far more alone than I am"

His brow furrowed "We can agree to disagree on that."

"And I still don't understand why you're here. Why aren't you somewhere warm?"

He shrugged and avoided the question, "If I wasn't, I would not have had the astounding pleasure of meeting you."

She frowned at how he ignored her question, but brushed it off.

The rain was finally beginning to ease as Ezra dozed off. Sitting on the floor slumped against the chair by the fire. He looked peaceful, no shadows playing behind his eyes, so she didn't wake him. Instead as the sun dipped, she laid a blanket over him and went to light the light.

The winds had made for a tense shift. Always keeping a weather eye on the sea for ships that might have got into trouble but eventually the sun rose and she stopped the clockwork and went back to the cottage.

Ezra had already left to get to The Mistress and she was surprised at the slight sting that they hadn't got to say goodbye. Next time she'll wake him.

She was even more surprised by how much she missed his company.

~~~~~~~~

Glossary

Hand over fist: Going forth rapidly in an endeavour, comes from ‘hand over hand’ when climbing the rigging.

Bairns: Kids, affectionate

Divn’t nah: Don’t know, couldn’t not include this

Dafty: fool, idiot, affectionate

~~~~~~~~

Taglist

Ezra

@fandom-blackhole

WTS

@something-tofightfor

Because I crave validation

@danniburgh

[bonniebelleklyde]

The Small Hours

Note: This fic takes place within what I believe we’re now calling the Mistletoe Universe. Chronologically, it takes place after A Storm to Weather and before Mistletoe. I would highly recommend reading both first to have a full context for this! Thanks to the lovely anon who sent in the prompt for this-- Logan returning the favor from A Storm to Weather and comforting Janus regarding an irrational fear.

Word Count: 2651

Pairing: Loceit (romantic)

Warnings: The warning is a spoiler! Check the tags if concerned.

Summary: In the small hours of the morning, Logan finds Janus in a rather unusual position.

When Logan rose before the sun—not an entirely uncommon occurrence—and made his way to the kitchen to brew a very strong pot of coffee, he was not particularly alarmed at the sight of a figure, obscured by the darkness of the room, sitting atop the refrigerator. He simply nodded in its direction.

“Good morning, Virgil,” he said before stifling a yawn. “It’s a bit early for you, yes?”

There was nothing but silence in response. That was...odd. Concerned that something was troubling Virgil beyond his normal levels of anxiety, Logan flipped the light switch and jumped a bit when the light revealed that it was not Virgil at all sitting on top of the refrigerator, but Janus.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I—what are you doing up there?”

Logan was hardly an expert in these things, but something was definitely off about Janus, even absent the fact that Logan had never seen anyone other than Virgil choose this particular seating arrangement. Janus was fidgeting with his gloves, a habit that Logan had come to realize as indicative of nervousness in the deceitful side. He was also noticeably avoiding eye contact and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Unsure how to proceed, Logan followed Janus’s lead and averted his eyes, waiting for some sort of response. When he received none, he furrowed his brows in confusion. Janus was not exactly known for holding his tongue.

“Is something wrong?” he tried again, endeavoring to communicate through his tone that he was not prying for curiosity’s sake, but rather attempting to offer whatever assistance might be required. Logan doubted he was successful in this endeavor—he was rarely successful in conveying any tone to speak of, his words always seeming to come out dry and hollow.

“No, no, don’t mind me. Nothing’s wrong,” Janus said in a voice so quiet that Logan suspected it would have been drowned out by the sound of the coffee maker had the logical side turned it on.

Logan cocked his head to one side, turning over Janus’s words in his mind for a moment before gently shrugging his shoulders.

“You know, one would think—given who you are—that you would be better at that.”

It was Janus’s turn to furrow his brows.

“Better at what?”

“Lying.”

Janus blinked hard, his mouth falling open in an expression that Logan couldn’t be sure indicated offense or shock.

“I am literal deceit.”

Logan nodded, a small smirk crossing his face. “My point exactly— literal deceit should be more…adept at deception, no?”

Janus scratched at the back of his neck and did not speak for several long moments. Logan cursed himself inwardly— he hadn’t meant to offend, but he almost certainly had. He had essentially just told Janus (to his face, no less) that the other was bad at his job.

“I’m sorry,” he said after it became clear Janus was not planning on providing any sort of response. “I did not mean to imply that you are always—”

Janus cut Logan off by gently holding up his gloved hand, a tentative smile on his face.

“I know,” he said simply. “And you’re right. It was a lie. But I don’t…”

It was Logan’s turn to interrupt.  “Janus. I don’t intend to pry.”

Logan was reminded of the night when Janus had first become privy to the logical side’s irrational fear of thunder. He certainly hadn’t pried—had not mocked Logan or passed judgment in any way. He had not forced Logan to talk about his fear—a fact that Logan was exceedingly grateful for. No, Janus had simply…stayed. He’d borne out the storm beside him, with a steadying arm around Logan’s shoulders, for no other discernible reason than the simple fact that Logan had been afraid. Janus…Janus had been lovely. And he’d gone on to be equally lovely during the handful of thunderstorms that had occurred since that night. Almost immediately after the first crash of thunder sounded from each storm, Janus would materialize wherever Logan happened to be at the time. He wouldn’t say a word about the storm itself or about Logan’s silly fear. He’d beckon for Logan to sit beside them, and together they’d make their way through one novel or another, taking turns reading aloud to each other until either the storm had passed or they had drifted into sleep. Though his fear of thunder had never subsided, Logan became strangely fond of thunderstorms. Increasingly, he’d found himself wanting to…well. It didn’t matter what he wanted.

What did matter was that, through every embarrassing moment of it all, Janus was lovely. And while lovely was not a word Logan would ever attribute to himself, the very least he could do was—in the face of Janus’s obvious discomfort—afford the other his privacy.

There was a subtle change in Janus’s expression at Logan’s words. It seemed…softer, somehow. Logan quickly averted his eyes once again when he caught himself starting to stare. The last thing he wanted to do was make Janus any more uncomfortable than he apparently already was. He wondered briefly if Janus, too, was reminded of the storms. He became suddenly aware of how long the silence between them had stretched on for, and he coughed to dispel the strange tension hanging in the air. Remembering his motivation for entering the kitchen in the first place, Logan crossed the room to the coffee maker.

“Coffee?” he offered before chuckling softly when Janus wrinkled his nose. “Not a fellow caffeine enthusiast, then?”

“Oh, I drink plenty of tea,” Janus responded, his tone finally sounding a bit lighter now. “But I’ll never understand how you can drink that stuff—coffee is disgusting.”

Logan snorted in amusement as he began spooning out coffee grounds from his hidden stockpile. “Are you sure? You might find that you like mine— I keep the quality grounds well hidden from the others. You’ll find that the taste of coffee can vary quite widely depending on the type and origin of beans used to prepare it.”

“Is that so?” Janus returned, one eyebrow raised in skepticism. “Very well, I’ll try it if you like, but I make no promises regarding my reaction.”

Logan hummed in amusement, grinning as he got the brew started. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Janus nervously scanning the kitchen floor. Was there some sort of rodent about? Logan wondered idly but did not ask. Instead, he summoned a book—The Mystery of Edwin Drood—from its place on his nightstand, brandishing it for Janus to see before taking a seat at the kitchen table.

“I believe we left off on Chapter Three?” Logan asked quietly, turning to the appropriate page and looking to Janus’s face to determine whether this was the right course of action.

Janus’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and his grin widened just a bit. He shifted his position so that his back rested against the wall behind the refrigerator and closed his eyes.

“Yes, that sounds about right.”

Logan sported his own small grin as he lay the book out on the table in front of him.

“Excellent. Though I still don’t understand why you chose a book that is only half finished,” he remarked, his tone only slightly teasing.

Janus’s grin faltered at that, his eyes snapping open, and Logan worried that he may have inadvertently insulted the deceitful side once again. But Janus spoke before Logan could make his hurried apologies, his tone not offended but hesitant, perhaps even a bit nervous.

“I had thought…er, well…I thought that perhaps it might be interesting to trade theories about how it might have ended once we’ve finished. If you’d like to, that is.”

Logan was taken aback for a moment at the knowledge that Janus had selected this title because he was interested in discussing theories with him. That was…unusual. Logan was far more accustomed to his own academic musings being tolerated at best. The idea that someone valued them enough to actively seek them out…well, that was…that was quite pleasant. Logan felt something he couldn’t name—a warmth of some sort—bubble up in his chest, and he beamed up at Janus, not having the slightest clue why the other seemed so very nervous to reveal this incredible information to him.

“I think I would enjoy that immensely,” he said genuinely. “There are few things I find more satisfying than parsing out a good mystery, as you well know.”

Janus must have read Logan’s sincerity in his face, because the deceitful side’s apprehension melted away to be replaced by a brilliant smile to match Logan’s own. The corners of Logan’s lips were still tipped up as he watched Janus’s eyes fall closed again and as Logan began to read from the book.

Before long, he was interrupted by a buzzing sound signaling that the pot of coffee had finished brewing. Logan paused his reading and strode over to the cupboard to retrieve two mugs. When he’d poured both drinks, he looked to Janus with questioning eyes.

“Will you be joining me at the table, or should I hand this to you up there?”

He asked the question gently, kindly in a way that he hoped invited Janus to reveal whether there was some way that Logan could help him with his current predicament without pushing too forcefully. Janus averted his eyes and chewed at his lip.

“I…don’t normally make a habit of sitting up here,” he said slowly after several moments.

“No, you don’t,” Logan confirmed simply with a nod, leaning against the counter as he waited for the other to continue.

“It’s ridiculous,” Janus said through gritted teeth, clearly frustrated. “I don’t…I am being ridiculous.”

Janus’s face was bright red, and he seemed as if he was endeavoring to look anywhere but Logan’s face, and Logan turned his own gaze downward in an effort to minimize the other’s discomfort.

“More ridiculous than shaking like a leaf during every thunderstorm?” Logan asked softly, a small self-deprecating smile on his face.

At that, Janus’s eyes snapped up immediately to meet Logan’s.

“You are not ridiculous,” and something about the amount of sheer conviction in Janus’s voice stole every bit of Logan’s breath from him. “You are…”

Janus trailed off, either unable to come up with a word for what Logan was or unwilling to voice whatever word he may have had in mind.

“Well. Regardless,” the deceitful side continued, glancing away from Logan’s face once again. “I am being ridiculous. It really is so trivial, I…I should just come down…”

When Janus made no move to come down off of the refrigerator despite his words, Logan thought for a moment before offering, “Might there be anything I could do that would make coming down at all easier for you?”

It was clear from the hesitant look on Janus’s face that there was. In that moment, Logan wished he could be someone else—Roman or Patton perhaps, who were so much better at assuaging fears and dealing in emotions than Logan was. Janus deserved someone who was more practiced at this—who knew how to help Janus in the extraordinary way that Janus had helped Logan. Still, it was far too early for anyone else to be awake, so he supposed he would have to do.

“For what it is worth,” he said quietly, not having the slightest idea of what to say other than the simple truth, “I could never think you are ridiculous. You could tell me that you are up there to hide from the coffee pot, and I would think no less of you. You could tell me anything at all. I would never reveal the information to anyone else, and I would certainly never judge you.”

The words were inadequate, he was sure of it, but they were all Logan had. He watched with concern as Janus’s brow furrowed and his face contorted into an expression that Logan was not able to read. At the very least, Logan knew that Janus could be certain he was not lying. At long last, the deceitful side met his eyes once more with that same, unreadable expression.

“I’m afraid of spiders,” Janus finally confessed, his tone strained. “Virgil’s stupid pet must have escaped, because I woke up with the damned thing on my pillow, and it followed me into the kitchen.”

“Oh!” Logan responded, somewhat relieved that the situation was one that he could help with after all—and likely very easily at that. “I’ve actually assisted in retrieving it for Virgil several times. It should be no trouble doing so again. Do you have any idea where it might be now?”

Janus was hiding his face behind his hands now.

“I think it crawled under the oven, the last I saw.”

Roughly ten minutes later and with the practiced use of paper and string, Logan had successfully located the spider under the stove and seen it returned to its cage in Virgil’s room. Janus choked out a strained but sincere thank you, his face now an alarming shade of red.

“Thank me by coming down here and trying my coffee. I’ll make a convert out of you yet,” Logan teased, hoping the change in subject would lessen Janus’s embarrassment.

Logan lifted his hand in an offer to help Janus down from the refrigerator. Janus stared at the hand stretched out to him for just a moment before taking it and climbing down onto the counter and then finally to the floor. Logan found himself wishing—however irrationally—that Janus would forget to let go of his hand when his feet were once again on the ground, that Logan could remove Janus’s glove and interlace their fingers together, that they could—

Logan shook his head as if to physically shake that particular line of thought from his mind. He wondered briefly what it meant that he was thinking about such things with increasing frequency and resolved to consult Roman or Patton about the matter later. For now, he focused on keeping away the frown that threatened to form when Janus inevitably did let go of his hand.

“Alright,” Janus said with a small sigh as he took a seat at the table and looked toward Logan expectantly. “let’s get this over with.”

Logan smirked and handed a mug to Janus before taking the seat across from him. He nearly snorted his own coffee through his nose at the look of pure disgust on Janus’s face the moment the liquid had reached his tongue.

“I take it you’re not convinced?” he asked, not entirely successful in his effort to ward off a bout of laughter.

“This is revolting,” Janus said, glaring at his mug as though it had insulted him. “This is worse than what the others drink. I don’t know how you can stand it.”

Logan snickered and downed his own coffee in three gulps, more to prove a point than anything.

“Mark my words, I’ll sway you one day,” he promised, though not entirely serious.

“Can’t imagine how,” Janus said with a roll of his eyes before stretching out his hand. “Here, give me the book; I’ll pick up where you left off.”

Logan couldn’t help but grin as he handed the volume over. They had never before engaged in this strange practice of reading aloud to one another outside the context of a distraction from fear. Janus caught the grin and shot one back as he flipped to the correct page.

“May as well keep going. I’m eager to hear your thoughts on the identity of the murderer.”

There was that peculiar warmth in Logan’s chest again. This time, he simply allowed himself to bask in it. He would find clarity and answers regarding these strange and pleasant feelings Janus seemed to provoke in him later. For now, it was more than enough that they were there.

[ghost-party]

Next

Pairing: Nanami Kento x OC Word Count: 1.6K Warnings: death of a parent A/N: I’m currently reading the manga, but I’m not caught up yet. My brain just went “Nanami + books + meet-cute wholesomeness,” and here we are. I’m still trying to figure out how long this will end up being. And this is the first fanfic I’ve written in... well, a long time.

Nanami Kento has a bad habit.

He purchases books with every intention of reading them. The genre or subject doesn’t matter, as long as they leave him with a lingering curiosity after the first few pages. 

But he never seems to have the time to sit down and read them. No, that’s not right. He doesn’t make the time. Work keeps him busy. It also keeps him absurdly tired. He’s heard Gojo make the joke that sorcerers never sleep. He hates how true that feels. 

By the time he arrives home each night and goes through the motions of his usual routine — bath, dinner, chores, reports — he usually lacks the energy to focus on the words on the page. More than once, he’s woken in the early hours of the morning, bedside lamp still glowing, a barely-read book sprawled across his chest.

These days, he tries to exercise more self-control, reminding himself with the same discipline he brings to field work that his personal library is already at capacity.

But one day — a Friday, thankfully, and one that didn’t involve any overtime — he finds his resolve weakening at the sight of a small, nondescript bookshop tucked in between a florist and a corner café. 

It’s not very surprising that he’s never come across it before. He doesn’t usually take this route home. But having spent most of his day indoors, he had decided to make the most of the brisk autumn weather and prolong his walk.

He stands there, staring up at the sign — Twice-Told Tales — for what feels like an inordinate amount of time. With a frustrated huff, he gives in and steps inside.

A small bell jingles above him, and he’s enveloped in the familiar scent of old books, that subtle hint of vanilla. It always reminds him of his father’s study, with its built-in shelves and massive desk constantly cluttered with the detritus of his work. The same way that petrichor reminds him of walking home from school with his high school girlfriend, kissing her on the doorstep of her parents’ convenience store. (He’s not sure why that memory comes to mind now.)

Although he has a compulsive need for order in his personal life, a firm believer that everything in his apartment and on his person has a proper place, bookstores are, for whatever reason, exempt. Something about overflowing shelves, books stacked in precarious towers, organized by color or preference or size… It feels right.

And this particular shop seems to have found the sweet spot between order and chaos — just orderly enough to not overwhelm, but still brimming with the promise of surprises. Nanami loves few things more than discovering a book he hadn’t expected to find, or unearthing something he would never have thought to look for.

He’s thumbing through a well-worn travel guide — Budapest, one of the too many places he’s never been — when he hears footsteps approaching. He lifts his head and is struck by a strange, heady vertigo, like the floor has shifted beneath his feet.

From between the stacks toward the back of the store walks a woman. Mid-twenties, if he had to guess, wearing a dark green sweater and black pants. Her brown hair had been hastily pulled back and secured in a loose knot, wisps of it haloing her face. He takes in her small details — relaxed posture, lips quirked into a gentle half-smile, sleeves rolled to her elbows, revealing ink-smudged hands and a glimpse of a tattoo on her left wrist. (He was nothing if not exceedingly perceptive.)

When she looks up and meets his gaze, her smile widens. And before he can say hello, she says the last thing he would have expected: “I like your tie.”

Whenever someone told him that, it was nearly always a joke. After all, his usual tie — burnt yellow with bold flecks of black — was what many would call (and what Gojo did call, with an excess of enthusiasm) garish.

But this time, it’s sincere. And it briefly leaves him tongue-tied.

Finally, he manages a “thank you,” and he’s grateful that he doesn’t sound as confused as he feels. For whatever reason, he is finding it hard to look away. Luckily, she seems unbothered by the prolonged eye contact, still smiling.

“Your Japanese is very good.”

At that, she laughs. “That’s kind of you to say. I’ve lived here for a year, and I think I’ve improved. But I’m definitely still learning.”

He wants to ask where she’s from. He doesn’t know why. He wasn’t in the habit of asking personal questions of complete strangers. Instead, he says, “The shop name. It’s a reference to Hawthorne, isn’t it?”

She nods. “He was one of my father’s favorite authors. He had the name picked out before he’d even bought the building.” 

Nanami, to his surprise, feels the same way he does when he stumbles upon an intriguing book — he wants to know the rest of the story. Had her father retired? Or died? Is that why she had moved here? Uprooted her entire life to live abroad?

Why do you care so much? he asks himself. But he doesn’t have an answer.

“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”

He shakes his head. “Just browsing.”

“Well, if you need anything, let me know. I’ll be around.” 

In an effort to distract himself, he moves from shelf to shelf, perusing poetry, memoirs, thrillers, classics… He is pleased to find a small sitting area at the back of the store, two overstuffed armchairs beneath a window that overlooks a vegetable garden. Having picked up a new-to-him translation of Homer’s Odyssey, he decides to sit and read — at least for a little while. After all, it’s Friday. His usual routine could handle a wrinkle or two.

What he didn’t expect was to lose himself for two hours, until a kind, quiet voice breaks his concentration.

He looks up to find the shopkeeper seated in the chair beside him, holding two cups of what smells like mint tea. Her smile is halfway to a wince as she says, “Sorry... I hope I didn’t startle you. I made some tea and thought you might like some. Or there’s coffee, if you’d prefer that.”

“No, tea is fine. Thank you.” He accepts the cup and glances outside, noticing that the sun is already beginning to set. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. You’re probably closing soon.”

“Half an hour ago, actually. But I didn’t want to interrupt — I really don’t mind.” She nods toward the book resting on his knee. “Have you read it before?”

“Years ago. I’d forgotten how much I liked it.”

“I love that feeling. Like running into an old friend.”

They sit in companionable silence, drinking their tea, and Nanami feels calmer than he has all week. As if the instinctive tension he kept wound inside his body had loosened without him even noticing. It feels strange, in a pleasant way.

Perhaps that’s the reason why he finally asks, “You said this shop belonged to your father?” Using context clues, he opts for the past tense.

She nods. “For twelve years. But then he found out he had cancer, and it was too much work for him. I was in between jobs, had just gotten out of a long relationship…” Here, she pauses, and he notices something flicker in her gaze. But it’s gone too quickly. “And the lease was up on my apartment. So it felt like a sign, I guess. It took a lot of work, but I moved here. And when he died, I inherited this.” She gestures around at the shop. “And the apartment upstairs.”

“Why did you stay?” He’s startled by his own question, and when he notices her eyes widen, he continues, “I imagine it’s been lonely, with him gone, living in another country. You could have sold everything and moved back home.”

“That’s true.” She sets her now-empty teacup on the small table between them and curls one leg beneath her, leaning back into the chair. “I did think about it, at first. Because it all just felt so… overwhelming. But I wanted a fresh start, and that’s what kept me going. Now this feels more like home than my last home ever did.” She turns back to him, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sorry, that was a lot. You’re just easy to talk to.”

Yet another comment he isn’t used to hearing. If anything, he suspects he intimidates most people, with his blunt assessments and polite professionalism. But here is someone he barely knows, opening up to him like... a flower. A sunflower, he idly thinks, not sure exactly why he finds the comparison so fitting.

He glances down at his watch and reluctantly stands, grasping the book. “Thank you for the tea — and the conversation. But I should let you close for the evening.” He holds up Homer’s Odyssey and, indulging that bad habit of his, says, “I’ll take this.”

“Follow me. I’ll ring you up.”

When she hands him his receipt, she smiles at him again — that same open, warm smile that makes him feel like the world is tipping on its axis. It’s unnerving, that she can elicit such a reaction from him. But a small part of him also finds it fascinating.

“My name’s Olivia — Olivia Vale. What’s yours?”

“Nanami Kento.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nanami-san.” She leads him to the door, keys jingling in her hand. “I hope you come back soon.”

“I will.” And he means it.

[shadowtrooper1414]

Ricochet

Hey, guys! I know I don’t post my own stuff often, but I wanted to share this over here for people that may or may not be keeping an eye out for it. This fic was inspired by this post, asked by @rosytheribbiter over on @delimeful‘s page. I’m not entirely sure how I did, so please be nice to me. (Also, if enough people want me to, I’ll make an angstier follow-up that is all from Virgil’s POV)

Ao3 link for those of you who prefer that

Ships: Platonic DRLAMP (but can be read as vaguely romantic) tw: blood, injury, minor swearing, talk of dueling, gross mention of eyeballs (because Remus), sympathetic Remus and Janus - let me know if anything else needs to be tagged!

-----

Being a figment of the mind was a unique thing. Roman, Logan, and Patton had never had long-lasting injuries. Any wounds they did get would vanish sooner rather than later. Most of the time, it didn't even hurt. It made sense for them - they weren't real, after all. Even with eating and drinking water, it was unnecessary. Uncomfortable, if one doesn't do it for a while, yes, but it wasn't required to live. Obviously, at first, the other sides had assumed Virgil was the same as them. However, they noticed certain things about the anxious side, the closer he got to them.

Virgil always took a sharp breath when someone stubbed their toe, or he winced when one of the others grazed the stove. He would hide away when Roman came back from the Imagination with injuries. He kept his hands in his pockets the morning Logan spilled some scalding coffee on himself in a half-asleep state. No amount of coercing could get Virgil to remove his jacket the day after Patton ran his arm into a doorframe, despite the hundred-degree weather.

On top of that, Virgil had always been wary of injury, even when they were kids. It was assumed that it was an Anxiety thing - a Paranoia thing, at the time, really - but the Light Sides were unsure if that was really the case.

It took an unexpected turn one evening. Virgil was busy helping Patton with dinner while Roman was in the Imagination with Remus. Logan had been sitting in the community room reading when he heard a loud crash and a surprised gasp from Patton.

Logan stood quickly, book forgotten, and made his way to the kitchen. When he entered, Patton had corralled an exasperated-looking Virgil into a chair and pulled his jacket off. One sleeve of his purple long-sleeve shirt was slowly turning a dark reddish color, along with a patch on his back.

"Patton, really, I'm fine," Virgil said with an eye-roll.

"Kiddo, you're bleeding!" Patton exclaimed. "You are certainly not 'fine.'"

"What appears to be the problem?" Logan asked, announcing his presence. He eyed Virgil for a few moments. "Do you need any medical attention, Virgil?"

Virgil swore under his breath before pushing himself up, grabbing his jacket from the table. One hand was pressed firmly to his stomach. "I'll be fine. Just... I need some space."

Logan gently grabbed Virgil's arm as he tried to brush past. "Are you sure you are alright, Virgil?"

Virgil seemed to not process Logan for a second, as if he hadn't even noticed him before, then shot him a smirk. "Sure am, L." He carefully pulled his arm away before continuing to the stairs, which he half-stumbled up.

Logan looked to Patton with a raised eyebrow. Patton furrowed his brow, exceedingly concerned.

"Should we check on him?" Patton asked.

Logan paused for a few moments. "I'm... unsure."

-----

Later that evening, Roman came back from the Imagination, Remus in tow. Both were boasting about the "epic" duel they'd had with each other. It took a few minutes of no questions from Patton, and no statements about the event's absurdities from Logan before either twin realized something was wrong.

"What's up, Padre, nothing to congratulate us on?" Roman asked, vaguely teasing.

Patton blinked, then shot Roman a half-grin. "Sorry, just thinking about this dueling day!"

Logan let out a groan while Roman furrowed his brow. "Dueling - like... grueling?"

"Yeah, not my best, but..." Patton trailed off to shrug. He shook his head. "Anyway, who won in your duel?"

"I got impaled, so technically, Romano Cheesy over here won," Remus said, shouldering Roman a bit roughly. Roman winced a bit.

"Yeesh, careful with that shoulder," Roman half-whined. "You can't even remember that you mercilessly slammed your mace on it."

"Whoopsie, my bad," Remus said unapologetically.

Throughout the exchange, Logan shot Patton a careful look. Patton furrowed his brow, then looked to the twins.

"You two... got hurt?"

"Yeah, but it was no big deal," Roman said. "They're already gone."

"Can't say the same for ol' Virgie, though," Remus said, sounding a bit unhinged. A heavy silence fell over the room before Remus said. "Hey Calculator Watch, pass me those eyes. I want to put them in my pasta."

"Eyes..?" Logan asked, gazing at the table where there were, indeed, eyes. An entire jar of them. Unperturbed, Logan slid the container across the table. "Remus, what did you mean by 'can't say the same for Virgil?'"

Remus hummed distractedly, pouring the eyes all over his spaghetti. "What? Oh, it's nothin'. Don't mind me."

Roman shot Logan a puzzled glance. Logan shook his head and mouthed, "Later." Roman shrugged, seemingly satisfied with that. Logan, however, was starting to string together the pieces of this worrying picture.

When Virgil came down, his shoulders tense and back slouched, Logan very carefully kept his questions and thoughts to himself.

-----

Logan decided to confront Janus about it at a later date. It took a while before he could get the tricky side alone, and the answers he got... weren't exactly straight - pun completely unintended, Patton.

"I was wondering about Virgil," Logan had started one early morning - it was before even Patton got up.

"Do not go on," Janus had replied, putting together a hot cup of tea. "I just hate sharing things about people."

Logan waited a few moments, cataloging every strange event involving injuries and Virgil. "You noticed it too, have you not? The way he hides after one of us gets hurt, or when he covers up his reaction to a minor cut or burn. Even in the way he is wary about injuries, it is... strange. And I feel like it means something."

Janus hummed softly, sipping his tea. "Well, it is not the first thing he has hidden from you three, I will give him that." He side-eyed Logan. "Why do you ask?"

"The other day, during dinner preparations, he fled the kitchen after suffering from two large wounds that could not have come from anything in the kitchen."

"And why do you think I would know what is wrong?" Janus asked.

Logan hesitated. "You... knew Virgil. Before he came to us. He had to have trusted you at some point - more than he trusts us, at least."

"Well, he's definitely not doing it because he's concerned about you," Janus deflected. "I would most certainly ask, he'd love that."

Logan sighed. "I suppose you are right, Janus. I am simply... worried about him."

Janus let out a slow breath through his nose. "Logan, let Virgil come to you. He will, in time."

Logan nodded despite his frustration with that answer. There was some shuffling from the hall before Virgil entered. He looked halfway between bewildered and exhausted. He gently bumped Logan's shoulder before resting his chin over it. 

Virgil gazed at Janus carefully before closing his eyes. "Hey, L. Jan. What're you two talking about?"

"Oh, you know, the sky, space, the ozone layer," Janus said. He looked at Logan. "This was definitely not a pleasant chat, Logan, I most certainly did not enjoy it. I would hate to have another one sometime." With that, he half-sashayed out of the room. Logan watched him go, contemplating his non-answers.

"Did he bug you about anything, Lo?" Virgil asked sleepily.

"Not at all," Logan said. "I had been the one to seek him out. I had some questions for him, is all."

Virgil hummed, leaning further into Logan. "As long as he didn't bother you."

Logan smiled softly at Virgil. "Of course." He continued about his morning with Virgil literally half-asleep on his shoulder the whole time. He supposed he could postpone his investigation for a little while.

-----

The next couple of weeks passed, and Logan cataloged every out-of-place behavior Virgil exhibited when one of the others were injured. A burn here and there from Patton, some bruises from the twins adventuring in the Imagination. There was even a paper cut from Logan at some point - Logan had only seen it for a few moments, and it could have easily been dismissed. However, it had been too similar to the one he had gotten.

The next time Logan was able to document a significant injury, however, was an average Sunday afternoon. Roman and Virgil were cuddled close on the couch, debating about something or another when Remus and Janus entered, the latter limping.

Patton immediately jumped up from his place on the floor, concern on his face. "Janus is everything alright?!"

"Everything is just fine," Janus drawled, face set in a grimace. "Absolutely nothing happened."

"He fell down the stairs in the Subconscious while we were checking on the Other," Remus noted cheerfully. He plopped himself down next to Virgil. "Twisted an ankle. It'll fade eventually but probably hurts like a bitch."

Logan noticed Virgil glance down at his own ankle and wince. The anxious side cleared his throat and made to stand.

"It's getting kind of late, I should go to bed," Virgil said conspicuously.

"It's 2 PM," Janus deadpanned, moving to the couch. He gently pushed Virgil back onto the sofa, to which Virgil glared at him. "You will be going to your room."

Remus leaned into Virgil, grinning when Virgil grimaced. "Awe, c'mon, Virgie! It'll be like old times!"

"Yeah, sure," Virgil said, rolling his eyes.

Logan gently cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the three not-quite-bickering sides and the confused Light Sides. "Virgil, if I may..?" He carefully gestured to Virgil's ankle.

Virgil tensed, going pale, before looking to Janus. When Janus nodded and moved to sit on the couch armrest, Virgil sighed and rolled up his pant leg. The ankle was slowly swelling to a dark purple color.

Roman furrowed his brow. "Virgil, did you get hurt?"

"Not... exactly?" Virgil asked more than answered. He heaved a breath, fisting his hands in the sleeves of his hoodie. "More like... I took Janus's injury? I'm used to it, though. It's been happening since Thomas was a kid, so it's really no big deal. When any of you get hurt, it... ricochets to me." His voice had gotten tight and quiet near the end, and Virgil was hunching into himself. "I can deal with it myself - I usually do. Well, I did." He shot Janus and Remus a meaningful look.

Logan hummed. "So it is as I thought, then." At Virgil's surprised look, he continued. "Those few weeks ago, when you were seemingly injured out of nowhere, I decided to... try looking into it. As best as I could, anyway. I did my best not to pry into anything personal."

"Virgil, why didn't you tell us?" Patton said, seeming to just now find his voice.

"I... didn't want to make you worry," Virgil mumbled.

"You very much did not succeed," Roman said, tone gentle despite his words.

Logan stood. "If you would allow us to assist you, I will go get the first aid kit from the bathroom."

Virgil hesitated before sighing with a nod.

"Oh, I'll go bake some cookies while Logan patches you up, kiddo!" Patton exclaimed, quickly racing to the kitchen.

"Hey, RoRo, let's build an epic blanket fort," Remus said, jumping up from the couch. Roman quickly followed him, setting up the furniture so the fort would have good structural integrity.

Still perched on the couch's armrest, Janus shot Virgil a smirk. "Totally didn't tell you so."

Virgil ducked his head, face flushing. "Shuddup." And maybe lowering his head also allowed him to hide the soft smile on his face.

And that's how Virgil ended up in the middle of a cuddle pile, ankle bandaged and iced, with a Disney movie marathon running for the night.

[sabineelectricheart]

Death of a Bachelor

Summary: Sebastian is trying to drown his feelings in booze and other women. Abigail has had quite enough of it.

Rating: T - Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.

Words: 1000

Notes: Dumb men being dumb, it’s all. Hope you like it!

It was a fair, amene afternoon in the valley. It was still early Spring, the days were getting progressively longer and the weather was on that pleasant midpoint between the cold of Winter and the oppressive, humid heat of Summer.

Earlier that day, Sebastian had a lunch date in the city, with a professional violinist at the State Orchestra, one he was quite anticipating. They met over in the internet, their interests and personalities aligned quite nicely, and, as his friend Sam notes, she was exceedingly hot, with a blond hair with a blue streak hidden under the thick tresses and a slender, hourglass figure.

Really, even a man of high standards would find this girl a perfect candidate.

Such positive expectations made Abigail and Sam want to check on their friend as soon as possible, as Sebastian was awfully pleasant to be around whenever it so happens his mood struck a good note. Besides, they were much curious about whether the violinist lived up to the hype.

Alas, they had no luck and he was in no high spirits. When the two of them walked into his basement room, they found Sebastian laying across his bed sideways, his head hanging off of his bed so his friends appeared upside down as they walked in.

With a heaviness on their collective heart, the first thing they noticed was the smell of alcohol and the bottle in Sebastian hands, Abigail quickly taking it from him muttering something about spilling it and his stepfather’s rage if he saw the state of the young man.

Sebastian had a frown on his face as he rubbed his hands over his face in frustration and let out a long groan. Abigail walked up to the bed and sat down in front of him, pulling his hands away from his face.

“What’s up, Sebby?” Abigail asks with an encouraging tone, but still using the nickname as a jab, one he had not dignified himself to respond. “Any reason you are drunk so early?”

Before Sebastian could answer, Sam followed up with another question of his own.

“Yeah! I thought you finally had a date today! What happened?” His tone was cheery as usual, a mood the blond boy often defaults to whenever faced with uncomfortable situations.

Sebastian groaned again pulling a different bottle of hard spirits from under his bed as Abigail confiscated the last one, swinging it on his mouth and wondering why he was not feeling the pleasant burning on his throat.

“She just wasn’t right.” He slurred his words as he spoke.

Abigail walked away from the bed after pulling the unopened bottle from Sebastian’s hand, motioning to place it along with the other on the computer desk.

“Don’t you think it strange how every girl hasn’t been, quote-unquote, right, ever since that night with the farmer down the road?” The purple-haired girl wondered, knowing very well the answer to her question.

She means, of course, the late-night road trip they took to a cliff, beyond the county town, halfway to Zuzu City. Neither friend knew exactly why he chose to take the farmer there, of all places, but they knew they had a heart-to-heart and he emerged a changed man from it.

Sebastian attempted to glare at Abigail for his words but he could not hold back a smile in his drunken state as soon as he heard a reference to the girl living downhill from him.

Nevertheless, with the mention, he also felt frustrated and sad, and that made him want another gulp of hard alcohol. he yanked the bottle out of Abigail’s hands and quickly opened it taking a gulp of the amber liquid before the girl managed to pull it back away from him, while yelling severely at him.

“Sebastian, what is so wrong for you to have to drink yourself numb?” The purple-haired sneered. “You are falling for the girl. Admit it and pull yourself, and us, may I add, out of our damn misery!”

Sebastian put his hands over his ears like a child, his head getting increasingly flushed from both blushing and from hanging upside down on his bed. He rolled around until he was sat up in his bed cross legged with his hands in his lap as he fiddled with his thumbs.

“It feels like the sky is falling.” He muttered, feeling despondent. “How do I live with these damn sentiments?”

Sebastian was always over dramatic, and so the pair rolled their eyes dismissively.

“For the love of all Yoba, stop being such a drama queen, Sebastian!” Sam quickly dismissed. “Can’t you tell she obviously likes you too? She’s always hanging around you, she has given you a king’s ransom in pumpkin soup and yeti’s tears, not to mention that bouquet of hers, and she damn blushes at the very mention of your name. It’s kind of pathetic, really.”

Sebastian continued complaining about his new found feelings. “It feels like my heart is going to burst.”

Abigail came back from dumping the alcohol on the toilet and placing the bottles on the computer desk once again and began to tease Sebastian.

“Looks like it’s the death of a bachelor. A sad occasion, indeed.” She commented with a chuckle. “No more fooling around for you, Sebby. It’d do well to simply commit with a woman that clearly wants to put up with your ugly face and terrible demeanour come hell or high water. How will you ever survive?”

Sebastian pulled his blankets over his head, trying to no avail to rid his head of the burned images of the auburn-haired girl as he mumbled before he drifted off into a drunken sleep.

“I’m so fucked.” He bemoaned before started to snore softly.

The pair of friends rolled their eyes once again and left quietly. Sebastian with high spirits was very pleasant to be around, but a hungover Sebastian was a mean one, indeed. Besides, a little headache might be just what clears out his ideas.

*_*_*_*_*

Stardew Valley Masterlist