#sorrel rambles

[yumecryptid]

pokémas adding him to the trainer lodge was a mistake, i need to chew on him like a dog toy—

[sanguinewolves]

non canon oc ship save me. save me non canon oc ship

[dapplemoth]

still so surreal to me that one of the Erins based bramblestar off of their real life cat bramble and then he ended up becoming one of the more despised characters in the series. like what the fuck happened.

[chimerasofhafgufa]

🗝 Avalor likes how we figured out how to get a consistent dose of social media validation through posting progress pictures of long-term projects.

🗝 It kind of sucks we can't do that all the time because we plan to use someone else's Haku design to stitch onto our husband's shirt and by internet etiquette it's supposed to stay away from here. Because we don't know who drew it and how they would feel about that. Ergh...

🗝 Dreaming of the day we get ✨️famous✨️💅 and start getting people to ask us to embroider something they made.

[alexsrandomramblings]

Going to add sorrel and rose petals from the garden and woods to the frittata tonight. Alongside the more typical asparagus and goat cheese.

[aaronymous999]

Warrior Cats the New Prophecy except when Crowfeather and Leafpool run away together, they never come back.

I will try and remember to come back and elaborate on this once I finish my Sunset reread but I will have some ideas in the tags, which are not finalized because I forget what happens in Sunset so they may be contradictory

[thecatspirits]

You know when you think you have good ideas and then people give you even better ones and you now have the urge to rework everything else you've done. Couldn't be me right now.

Dang it Spotty why are you such a genius.

[ramshacklerumble]

i’ve had the concept of sorrel and cater working on a song for music club reasons in my head for a while (despite sorrel being in the film research club) and @twstinginthewind’s nrc music fest event popped up and i was like OH PERFECT!!! (explanatory ramble below)

regardless of the circumstances around just how they get into this project together, this whole thing is what gets them to get to know each other far better than anything else has since the time they’ve known one another. this is also a good example as to why they are unable to become romantically involved until adulthood.

cater is aware sorrel is at the very least attracted to him and while i wouldn’t say that he’s USING sorrel, he sure is taking advantage of whatever sorrel has for him to get sorrel to work on the project with him. this works out even better when sorrel shows legitimate aptitude for the song writing process (though much like with sorrel’s other work, he’s got a sharp perfectionist streak). though it’s nothing explosive, cater and sorrel do begin to clash in terms to how they approach the song and things get even more dicey for cater when VIL begins to question sorrel’s reasons for working with cater to begin with. she’s rather open about her views on cater being a flakey, uninspired and shallow phony and thinks little of sorrel “wasting” his talents on cater as she doesn’t think he’d truly appreciate any of it.

cater just wants something that looks and sounds cool for the ‘cam and vil doesn’t doubt they’ll be able to do that. but that’s just the issue, it’ll be just that.

her time working alongside sorrel as a creative on the film research club has shown her sorrel doesn’t work on anything for simple appearances. besides his genuine love and passion for his work, everything he works on has a message he truly believes in— be it a negative or positive one— it’s genuine. but when has cater ever done anything genuinely?

sorrel voices a quiet, but steady faith in cater being capable of creating something amazing— something that cater is secretly unsure how to feel about beyond feeling uncomfortable under the expectation. but cater also doesn’t miss the way sorrel begins to shift in the way he acts towards him as they continue working on this together.

sorrel himself is unsure what he actually feels for cater (in comparison to how he feels about trey at this point. that is, sorrel is fully aware he’s head-over-heels for the dude), but he does care about cater and he loves him as a friend, no question.

that said, it’s during the time that they’re working on this project together that sorrel realizes cater is…kind of really a mess. and though sorrel wants to continue to be cater’s friend and help when he’s able to— he gets the solid reality check that for his own mental health, he can’t be involved anymore beyond that with cater. he doesn’t push cater away exactly, more that sorrel minds how much of himself he’s willing to give away to him. (which is big for sorrel, who will give his entirety to someone he cares about, but that’s growth for you i suppose).

and i feel like this is definitely the start of an undercurrent of tension for the years to come, especially as cater’s coping mechanisms get more and more unhealthy.

taglist:

@cyanide-latte @inmateofthemind @tixdixl @blithesharem @thehollowwriter @jovieinramshackle

@theleechyskrunkly @skriblee-ksk @boopshoops @the-trinket-witch @twistedwonderlandshenanigans @kimikitti

@felix-cant-ski @nightwingshero @water-writings @beneathsakurashade (dm to be added)

[spurbleu]

rendezvous

ch.1 mother’s advice

[ johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x f!stripper!reader ]

▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎

S. mother left you with very little aside from her cat, calloused advice, and a legacy at your local brothel.

warnings. shameless men, customers service industry, mentions of abuse

a/n: lore drop and y'alls first meeting :) again, slowburn so be patient

word count: ~3.2k

‧︎༚︎☉°︎༚︎‧︎༚︎✳︎☉︎︎°︎‧︎༚︎‧︎

“Only eva’ let the good lookin’ ones get dirty wich ya, darlin,”

your mama had said rather plainly one night as you fixed her tea, voice coarse under cigarette,

“no use ina ugly fuck.”

Strange, how the only good advice she had given you (alive, at least. plenty of lessons from her dead), was about sex. She’d never been gentle enough with your hair to elicit the idea she might be with her words (but being a daughter meant you hoped). So, when you buried her, outdated ramblings and boorish tongue, most of what you took with you was boneless.

You packed the vulgar with the rest of the house, strapping it to the back of your truck and hoping it would nestle in the tobacco-less walls of your new apartment (a different shade of yellow- little kinder- absent of bile). Or maybe the newer wooden floors, eroded under boot heel, sturdy still.

On arrival you discovered it had found a less subtle home. Must have been some twisted fate (a mother’s memory- hardly sweet), that your new apartment was neighbors with your town’s brothel.

Funny, how a broke, orphaned woman like yourself, sun bleached elbows and sore neck, was given an opportunity to finally test the merit of a mother’s advice.

The withering building paralleled one of her last gifts to you, a lingerie set. Old brick red, lace trim gauze between blocks. Thick straps bridging bralette to panties like the iron beams holding up a raunchy sign- Rendezvous.

Stench of sex fogged up greasy windows, drunk mumblings of wifeless (or, a more depressing thought, married) men on its porch, wearing crucifixes in bogus devotion. The oak beneath their leather was rusting by their print of dust and the grooves beneath a bottle of beer- sorrel glass broken at the foot of creaky stairs.

Recently, your old church pews found their way back to your mind. You pushed the last of your boxes through the door, knees blushing purple with guilt. No, you had decided upon arrival- you wouldn’t even look at the place.

Pig stye, you’d convinced yourself, whore house. You turned your nose to it all, prissy and ornery even as they whistled from the railings, red knuckles itching for your attention. Hasty for the day they’d see you in dusk light, starting your shift. Only for you to leave them, day after day, cockdumb and unsatisfied.

And you had been doing so well, too.

That was until you opened the envelope- your mother’s allowance. The one useful thing that the drunken, deceased mess of a women could’ve given your hopeless soul. Magnum Opus of her faulty motherhood, forgiven with just some fucking money.

But she was always more complicated than that, wasn’t she. Peaking from the back of the white fold was, indeed, that wonderful, faded green of cash- but in front of it was a depressing beige- capitalized by black ink.

Girl,

Leave this apartment to you, take care of the old thing. That brothel knows me likes me; they’ll give you a job. Make yourself some real money, use my looks, darling. Be good. without me

Much love,

Mother.

You tossed the note aside before your hungry fingers tore the dip of the paper apart- revealing, and you counted a dozen times to be sure, sixteen dollars.

Sixteen dollars is what you’re worth. Cheap cattle at a fair, squalid men drooling as your mother snickers. Your scrawny legs buckled under the weight of the gold bell- which, you’ve now discovered, costs more than you do.

You’d be angrier if you were surprised. But you weren’t. Hell, sixteen wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been- with the way her money was spent on dozens of those cancer packs a day, cig smoke stealing your wages one stick at a time.

You plucked up her note, reading between the pen’s blood to find anything else. Searching, like you had in her for decades, for a little more. A secret message between your fiber taught liaison, written in the tone she had used with you (old spice on dry meat) up until she couldn’t anymore. You could hear it now, reading the note to you, and suddenly you were five again, tugging at her shawl as sleep nipped the last pages of your Goodnight Tales.

You didn’t fail to notice the way she signed it, either. Mother. You had always opted for the simpler, casual name, ‘mama’. It felt truer to what she was, an apparition of a parent spared by a younger nostalgia- lacking the reliance, the respect, of an actual mother.

Yet another opinion where the both of you seemed to diverge.

No, of course you weren’t surprised.

But you were now extremely aware she had limited your options to the worst one. No southern shop, built on dirt and sweat, was going to take a labor virgin without a foot in the door. Which meant the only place desperate enough to take soft, vestal hands and good hair was that ratty brothel.

So, stubborn oxen halting actual progress, you watched the bar for a week.

Perched on a chair by the sill, the last bags of honey tea in your cup as you observed the lulls in its busy. That way, when you eventually forced your ass from the dips it made in the old seat, you’d walk to the door with as little shame as possible.

As you scurried across the street at dawn, sunrise made the old cobble appear prettier than it was. Light finding the gaps between stone, serenity’s veil cast over the Dutch Gables in early morning. The birth of day scared off the grimier patrons, leaving you in the barren womb to watch it’s first breath. You paused there, relishing the one time the small market looked…worth it.

Seconds after you slide through the saloon doors, barely given enough time to drink up the sandy lighting and timber walls, a voice calls from behind the bar.

“We’re closed.”

She’s a natural blonde, you can tell by her lighter roots. Freckles contour a round face under eye bags- and you even catch the subtle crease of crows’ feet next to her grey eyes- blemished and old. Her lips screwed into what you think might be a permanent frown- that is until you speak,

“I’m here to apply.”

and it turns into a snarl, skin pitching at the bridge of her nostril, “We ain’t hirin’.”

Your mother’s note comes back to you, and you loosen the resentment in your voice as you say her name. “I’m her daughter. ‘Said I- you’d let me work here.”

The wrinkle laxed, and her snarl came down to a thin neutral line. “Did she finally kick the bucket?”

You nodded, unsure how to feel when her lips curled. “Damn. Y’had a firecracker of a mother. Worked alongside ‘er iner prime. Solid woman,” her eyes ran up your shoulders, “terrible mother, I reckon.”

You swallowed- she grinned. Her hand beckoned you to the stools, and you took a seat, shaking her outstretched hand. “You got ‘er looks. You’ll do fine ‘ere. Names Francesca.” Her eye narrowed to slits, “Nobody calls me Franny. Its Francesca, or Miss- got it?”

You nodded, and she flashed you another glimpse of her yellow teeth.

“I’ll start ya at the bar. See ‘ow long ya last.”

-

Turns out, you lasted a lot longer than she thought you would.

Swatting advances away as you gave patrons bottles, but smart enough to never get mouthy. You caught more flies with honey anyhow- so as your boots became comfortable in the mop-clean lumber floors, you’d occasionally entertain some of them.

“You single, sweetheart?” Slurred from a regular as you filled his tab. Grisly looking fellow, got years on you. Too many to be talking.

“Enough to work here.” You slid him a drink with a smile. Syrup on a glass rather than salt. The spread of his lips was telling- he tasted it.

Boisterous laughter- too loud to want just liquor- “’nough to sit on an old man’s lap?”

No. Not enough that they thought they’d get lucky- but that was the trick, wasn’t it? Just barely easy enough to send them wily looks over your shoulder, cover the spite in your voice with flirts- onion layered by a blushing red skin- weak enough that it kept them hoping. But never truly easy, moving to the next customer before the last could lean for a fat kiss.

You rolled your eyes with your back turned to him, jaw clicking in thin patience.

“Not over here. That’s for the other rooms.”

His eyes followed your pointer finger, attention sinking its dull teeth into the cardinal doors.

You pretended not to mind your position as the face of the brothel rather than the body of it. Why would you anyway? You’re sure the girls back there would kill for an easy job like yours- given the chance to politely navigate around advances rather than being forced to feed them. You only had to serve the dry slacks- and watch them as they left soiled. You didn’t have to see- no, make- that filthy in-between.

Church taught you enough. Nothing but festering confessionals behind that door.

But goodness, could you be childish. Curious mind, insecure heart- all of you greedy. You were positive they made bushels more than you- and all for some more skin, done up hair and lidded eyes?

You could do that.

Bitter, confusing envy. Makes you mad when Francesca gave you a hard no after asking for a promotion- but sorry as you curl in thin sheets before dreamless slumber.

(Did your greed weigh more than morals? Did church and your father’s absence teach you that little? Nothing should be this existential- but maybe that’s why it’s uprooting. Forked road- giving up a part of you either way.

You hate to admit you buried something of your own with your mother’s body, but what you hate more is that it’ll take this decision to figure out just what it was. Your innocence- daughterhood and a sweet virtue, or your hearth- the fight to survive and earn. Living for a little vice.

You’d dream in saturation on these nights, colors crisper than they’ve ever been- even young. You were never sure why the colors were so bright.)

So here you are, another night drawn as a sloppy line under a bar, marking…3 months? Sunrise and sunset look so similar nowadays, and it made the silhouette of an hourglass harder to etch in the tan pages of your moleskin.  

However, it did give you more time to sketch out the pub.

The booths pulled the same wood of the wall forward in a curved seat, split by a table and cushioned by yellow pillows- filled with rice, those damn things must have been harder than the booths themselves.

Around them, dark oak tables and creaky chairs- makes any working man feel ten pounds heavier with the way they whine when sat on. A candle and 3 coasters in the center of every round table, beckoning more drinks as the day died. In fact- those wax sticks were everywhere along the tavern- even in a chandelier that dangled above the liquor shelf, occasionally dripping hot tears on the bar.

Just the kind of place you’d expect to see the men you do.

Seedy- dusting in the corner of your bar are built scrawny- diet of yeast and grass evident in the hollow of their back. Mouths they hide from their mothers, hands that hit harder than their fathers. But in the redness of their cheeks- bloated by the sun and the contents you served them- was a weakness.

Masculine insecurity that had them calling you a ‘pretty bitch’. A compliment, but derogatory enough their clam tongue wasn’t revealed under the folds of their shell. No pearl, no wealth- just a common, beached, animal.

“’nother round, for mah fellows, baby.”

You glanced up. Sullen face, grey beard- twisted lips that cracked under ale. He flashed crooked teeth, and you strained a smile, forcing the tired plump of your cheeks to spread. You slipped your journal beneath the bar, taking his cups and filling them until the clouds of foam kissed the rim.

He flipped a couple coins on the counter, and you slid them into your palm.

You sighed, running your tongue along the cast of your teeth. Late hours were so boring- never new- repetitive that even the loud, sudden laughter from that back corner didn’t phase you anymore.

There were no more surprises- because everyone was here.

Ned and his calloused farmer men. Not too much of a hassle, sat in the back and called you names- but let you work. Callum and his wallowing ass in the center tables, nursing his umpteenth glass of the evening ever since his wife left.

And Silas- sweet boy- young and excited to drink. He’s more often than not by himself, drunk silly as he draws. You liked him more than the rest- brother feeling about him. Kinder.

So, it surprises you when the bell rings, well into the night, and he walks in.

Brutish arms- hung by shoulders that nearly reach the door frame. The rest of him was just as big- military fed, you had to assume. Strong jaw, buzzed skull except for a well-trimmed bush down the center. He stood out like a sore thumb, the slender builds of farmer boys a third of the bull that stood in front of you.

You weren’t the only one who noticed, as you heard the laughter behind you hush and Callum’s wallowing come to a lull. He didn’t seem to mind- especially as he made his way to the bar- eyes and smile beguiling- and directed at you.

Now you weren’t easily charmed- but you knew a handsome man when you saw one. It’s the particular weight on their shoulders- making their feet come down heavier and gate smooth.

Nothing wrong with looking at them- just as long as you don’t get too comfortable. Just because they’re clams with nicer shells, maybe even a pearl between clean teeth, doesn’t mean they’re any less washed up.

“Welcome. What can I get’cha tonight.” You offered him the same smile you gave everyone.

“Aye. A pint ‘il do.”

The thick arches of gaelic in his voice caught you off guard. Deep timbers, pine rooted in his throat, leaves lime with humor. It pooled in the back of your mouth- an aftertaste you found yourself liking.

You filled his glass, rolling the shock off your shoulders. “We don’t get many scots ‘n here.”

He chuckled as you handed him a glass, blue eyes unwavering as he took a sip. “Nae? Though’ it’da be fool of ‘em.”

He pulled a genuine laugh out of you- the sound of sarcasm familiar- comforting. “What brings you here.”

“Work.” He said plainly- but the twitch on his knuckle told you he wanted you to ask more.

“Military?”

“What gave ye tha’ idea?”

You hummed, eyes running up his shoulders. You didn’t miss how they squared, conscious under your gaze. “You don’t look like a farmer. Too much of you.”

“Aye, ere’s neva too much of me, darl.”

You sucked in your bottom lip. Charmer.

“So, you are military, then?”

“Yes ma’am.”

You idled your hands with one of the many dirty glasses that blistered under old soap studs and dried foam. The rags bumpy fabric prickled your fingers- enough to keep them from trembling when he spoke.

“What branch of the military brings you out in the middle of nowhere?”

“Most of em.”

Your lips thin to an embarrassed line. Right, of course. “I…guess I’m really asking what branch you are.”

He took another swing of his beer, and you watched as he tipped his jaw back- revealing the catch of his throat as he swallowed. Must have been on purpose- show off.  “SAS. On leave, yer place looked tidy,” his eyes gave you a once over, “good tae see ’m right.”

Turning to set the glass down gave you an excuse to avoid his eyes. Demin blue but not casual, deep-set and sharp. Military grade, you could tell by the way they really saw. Accessing you, ran up the hunch of your spine and the click of your wrist- aiming to find spare bullets and threats.

He’d come up empty, though. No, not in you. All he’d find was the jump of your heart against your cervical.

“Mmm,” you offered, “Its cute, I’ll give it that much. Good for the drinks.”

He nodded, “’N maybe somethin more…”

These are the moments when your mother’s voice comes back to you. Thick spit, coarse hair- tangled and suffocating- your lungs sting almost as much as the red print on your cheek.

“Foolish child.”

Your back was turned, so you thought maybe you’d finally been tempting enough to something pretty. That the lilt in his voice, the gravel as it went an octave deeper, accent blooming under light o’s and rolled r’s- meant for your company.

That maybe, the looks you had been told were your only asset, had finally done some good.

You were left disappointed when you turned back around, cheeks a hopeful rose, when his eyes had left you. Instead, past your shoulder, to the red doors.

You’d never seen what was actually behind them, Francesca made sure of that. You could only assume it was the collection of every mans desire painted pretty- shelves of toys, women in bright, expensive lingerie, red lips on rum ones. A childish image, really, but what else were you to do?

In a way, you were just as desperate to get behind those doors as every man here. Not necessarily in the same way- not to satisfy some sick desire, dig up a buried, old arousal that their poor wives didn’t anymore.

No, for you it was to satisfy your own insecurity. Hungry creature, eager to prove and ready to sweat. To be something- pretty, ugly, didn’t matter. As long as you had a place there, you’d be rich.

“Oh, yes,” you let your customer smile come back, editing the script you were given in your head, “pretty gals over there. If you wanted a-“

“Ye work tere?”

You choked on nothing. “What?”

“Do ye work ‘n ta brothel?”

Genuine curiosity. Maybe he was hiding something else behind thin lips, but the question came out too casual for its boldness that you wouldn’t’ve caught it. You found yourself unsure in your own body, standing stiff as your bones questioned whether to lean, sit, or run.

You chose none of the three, and instead you spoke.

“No.” Not yet. You wanted to add. He hummed, taking a last swig of his pint before placing the cup on the table with a…hefty tip. You opened your mouth to say something, but when your eyes met his you were quickly hushed.

Ripped denim, now razor blue. The yellow of the lights seemed to bring it out, and if you weren’t confident he had killed a man, you were now.

“Shame,” he said, standing, “Such a bloody waste.”

[bountydroid]

Darlin' pt 9

pt 1 / pt 2 / pt 3 / pt 4 / pt 5 / pt 6 / pt 7(SMUT) / pt 8 / pt 10 (SMUT)

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!reader

Description: Cooper gets vulnerable as they head to Moldaver.

TW: Angsty

Notes: Sorry this is a little shorter, I wanted to get something out for you guys since it has been so long. I appreciate your patience. Darlin' will end at the end of the TV series. So probably 1-3 more parts I haven't decided yet.

Sweat dripped down my face as my brows creased together. The very limited charm of the Wastelands has completely left, leaving me sweaty, angry, and very very tired. Cooper and I haven't said a word to each other since we left Sorrel behind. I know that he knows that I want answers, that I am upset, that I am scared. Instead of explaining himself, however, he stayed silent. This only increased my worries. My thoughts and fears ran rampant in my brain as I thought of every possibility. This woman, she meant something to him. I hoped that she was maybe a family member or a close friend. I knew it was likely false hope, but the thought of everything between me and Cooper was a lie? That he was leading me to a lover? I couldn't handle that thought, it was eating me alive. 

"Should be a couple o' days more walkin' darlin'. You think your little legs can handle that?" He jested, trying to improve the gloomy mood that hung over us. 

"Okay," I whispered back, I didn't know if he even heard me as I kept my eyes trained on my feet. I watched the sand move around my shoes like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Anything to keep my mind off of her. I could feel his eyes on me as he looked behind him, taking in my defeated form.

"It ain't what ya think." He says as he stops walking, finally addressing the issue. "It ain't like that."

"Whatever you say," I mumbled again as I brushed past him. I could feel his hand wrap around my wrist as he tugged me backward against his chest. 

"Listen to me damn it." He said angrily as he held me tight against him. I could feel myself starting to shake. I've been fighting the tears this whole time, but his raised voice finally broke the dam causing a broken sob to leave my mouth. 

"Don't yell at me." I cried out, frustrated at his reaction. I wanted him to kiss me, to coo at me, to hold me tight, but that wasn't the kind of man he was. He was just as broken as I was, and the years of wandering the Wastelands on his own left him an angry old man. 

"There ain't nothing worth cryin' about." He said as he spun me around to face him, "So stop it. Now." 

"Oh, am I inconveniencin’ you?" Venom slipped out of my mouth as I finally met his eyes, "Better leave me here then and just go after her."

He sighed, clearly annoyed as he pinched the leathery skin between his eyes. "You can be so damn stubborn." He mumbled. After he said that I let out an annoyed huff before turning back around with every intention of storming off, but before I could, he grabbed my arm again. "Stop it."

"Who is she then? When did our little adventure go from hunting bounties to hunting her?" I rambled angrily, not being able to keep the questions in any longer. "And when were you gonna tell me you are 200 years old? When did you meet her? You've been in the ground a long time, is she 200 years old? Is she your wife-"

"She's not my wife." He interrupted as he pinched my lips together to silence me. There was a moment of silence before he let my face go. Instead of continuing to berate him, I opted to stay quiet and rub my sore lips. "I ain't used to having someone I gotta explain myself to." He continued.

"You make it sound like such a chore." I scoffed out.

"Just listen to me, damn it. She's not my wife. She's not a lover. So, settle down." He huffed angrily. 

I silently stared up at him waiting for him to continue, to explain the pieces I was missing, however as time went on it became clear he wasn’t going to say anything else. My face changed from anger to disbelief as he stared down at me with his signature stony expression. I wanted to scream at him. To yell in his face. To berate him for keeping me in the dark. Instead, I just turned around quietly and started walking in the direction we were going earlier before shooting back at him with an aloof tone. “Whatever you say.”

I heard him scoff behind me, but this time he didn’t stop me from walking away. Instead, he chose to yell after me. “Does my age bother you? Me bein’ a ghoul is fine but an old ghoul? That's too gross for you?”

I stopped dead in my tracks before I whipped around to face him again. The look of disbelief still graced my face. “Of course that doesn’t bother me, Cooper. I can’t believe you would think that.” I could feel the tears returning to my eyes as we stood there staring at each other. “It’s the secrets that bother me. I told you everything about myself, but all you’ve told me is you had a wife and a daughter at some point. I’ve given you everything-“

“I know. I know darlin’.” He interrupted me as he walked up towards me. His scarred hands quickly found my cheeks as he cupped my face gently. The annoyed look he’d worn on his face this entire argument was gone, instead replaced with a look of sadness. “You deserve better than me.”

“Don’t.” I responded quickly, “Don’t do that. I am not gonna let you push me away Coop.” 

He gave me a sad smile before dropping his hands from my face, “Guess I am stuck with you then?”

I let out a surprised laugh as I grabbed ahold of his hands. “Yea. So you better start treatin’ me right.” I teased. 

His sad smile was exchanged for a happier one as he looked down at our joined hands. “How about we keep goin’ and find a place to stay for the night?”

I nodded my head quietly as I gave him a small peck on the lips before turning around, and dragging him close behind me. He scoffed and shook his head in disbelief, he had no idea what he had done to deserve love. He was a cold, hard man who thought he'd live the rest of his life alone and he had been fine with that. 

-

My mouth hung open in shock as we sat around the fire. Cooper explained everything, the vaults, the experiments, and his wife's role in everything. We took little breaks here and there, as it was clear this was hard on Coop. He hadn't told anyone about these things even before the bombs dropped. If he was a softer man, he would've cried. I sat still and listened carefully while casually rubbing his back with reassurance. I was happy that he felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable with me.

"And Moldaver, well she was the woman who helped me realize the truth about my wife. Now that I know she is alive, I am hopin' she knows where my daughter is." He explained quietly, a look of defeat on his face. 

"Do ya think she's still alive?" I asked tentatively. 

"If Moldaver is, I don't see why not." He responded. 

I nodded my head quietly as I tried my best to take in all of this information. This was beyond me, and we both knew it. 

"Well, I'll help you find her," I said giving him a small smile.

He scoffed as he he frowned. "You don't have to, it'll be dangerous darlin'."

"I know." I said reassuringly, "But we are a team now." I kissed him on the cheek softly, my lips lingering on his face. "You are stuck with my Cooper Howard."

Tag list: @bruhidkjustwannaread @msrawog @valdemarismynonbinarylove @whizbang-cap @topiramateagreeable 

@sitkafay @lightan117 @eykismyfav @ajeff855 @madelinealexandra

 @justme12200 @sihlaryn @raviolisenpai @ellabellabunny123 @impossessedbyjeongyeon

@leviathanleva @v3lv3tf0x @fallout-girl219 @savanahc @booksbabes

@gauky76 @green--beanie @fanfictiongirly23 @gobbodoggo @erissco

@hellveticabold @katgirl05 @tfamidoingwithmylife @miketastic25 @alex-does-art-things 

@harmfulb1tch @midwesternwitchery @dep-to-seed @danveration @chmerkovskiy-chmerkovskiy 

@sarahmclean15

[spidercoris]

i think we moved past this way too fast cause it was just NEVER MENTIONED AGAIN???? THIS WAS SO CREEPY AND ASHLYN JUST NEVER BROUGHT IT UP??? there’s a possibility she thought she was seeing things but remember how well that worked out LAST time at the sorrel weed house. i think it’s safe to say she should trust what she sees.

and also how he managed to wake up faster than tyler did even though i’m pretty sure his injury was a little worse? like everyone forgot about it and it’s driving me insane. and also how aiden’s injuries just WENT AWAY??? like i’m 99% tyler still has a gaping hole in his stomach but aiden’s just magically disappeared within a night minus a few scars on the side of his face??? it’s uncanny. yeah he still has side effects like not being able to walk easily and passing out but on a physical level how the hell did his injuries go away that fast? maybe i’m looking too much into it but it’s just odd to me.

and while i’m still on my ramble there’s also this?

again, NEVER BROUGHT UP AGAIN??? what is up with red making these huge jumpscare panels and then completely ignoring them in the next episodes. “oops just traumatized you guys with this awful image! let’s just put the topic away for another season 😁” WHAT.

[sanguinewolves]

also thinking about linden n sorrel THEYRE SUCH A GOOD MATTCHHH THEYRE SO. AUGHHH

[stalkerofthegods]

Lady Hestia Deep Dive

Lady Hestia is a wonderful goddess, she is always there for everyone, I adore Lady Hestia, I do not worship her personally but I know well that she is Amazing.

Herbs • Chaste trees, Rosemary, Parsley, Basil, Sorrel, vanilla, Cinnamon, coriander, Marjoram, Mint, Lemon balm, cloves, clary sage, Allspice, Angelica, Coriander, poppy seed, chamomile, Angelica, Bay, garlic, mint, peppermint, pepper, marjoram, The lavender, the chaste tree, the datura, the California poppy, the goldenrod, the hollyhock, the yarrow, the purple coneflower, all white flowers, Lavender, White roses, angel’s trumpet, goldenrod, hollyhock, and yarrow, pine, Wildflowers & sunflowers, raspberry leaves, sage, pearly everlasting, yellow rose

Animals• pigs, donkeys, one-year-old cows, a Crane. 

Zodiac & scared number  • unknown, I cannot find out what month she was born on, or the day. But I would associate numbers 1, and 6 because she is the oldest and the youngest (and etc, but who even likes my rambles?)

Colors •Gold, yellow, orange, red,  White, Gold, Lavender, light purple, black, silver, and dark red

Crystal•Carnelian, Garnet, Goldstone, Calcite, Topaz, garnet, amethyst, lapis lazuli, green tourmaline, Vanadinite, Quartz, gold, silver, and brass, Amber colored crystals, citrine, clear quartz, sunstone.

Symbols• a kettle, the hearth (fireplace), torch, candle

Jewelry you can wear in their honor• friendship bracelets 

Diety of• the virgin goddess of the home and hearth fire, cooking of meals, and sacrificial food for feasts, architecture, domesticity, family, and the state, and sacrificial flame

Patron of where the families ate and congregated, hospitality, family.

Offerings• give her prayer beads that remind you of her that are not Christian (or make one, which is better), wooden beads, Oil Lamps, Seven Day Candles (because they burn for 7 days), LED Candles, A Candle that reminds you of home, White or red candles, Apple juice, cider, Wine, Baked goods, keys to the home (preferably not stolen(looking at Hermes devotees))), Small kitchen antiques/objects,  pottery/cups/bowls, artwork of homey things, a meal, your favorite things, poetry, books, items you made, fall-themed stuff, spring-themed stuff, First/last foods & libations from a meal, Candles/flame, Honey, Pork, Cakes or Cookies made to look like one of Her symbols,), Keeping a candle/hearth fire or lamp constantly burning, Pictures of homes you want to live in one day, pictures of homes you have lived in, Pictures of architecture that you like, Teacups, teaspoons, tea towels, Childhood memories (ex- stuffed toys, baby clothes, old photos), Homegrown herbs, Toys or art of donkeys and pigs, Leaves or blooms from a chaste tree, Tea light candles (real or fake), Your favorite poetry or poetry you have written for Her, Your favorite books, Stories you have written, Art of flames, fire, candles, Garmets that you have made such as clothing, blankets, beanies, Homemade lotions, bath bombs, shower gel, bubble bath (You can ask Her to bless them then use them she probably won't say no), Beeswax products, honey, olive oil, pumpkin pie 

Devotional• Pick up rubbish in communal areas, Offer the first or last bites/portions of food your to her, Cooking/baking for yourself or others, Having a candle lit whenever possible (electric or real), playing a video of a fire place, Volunteerring at homeless or DV shelters, donating to homeless or DV shelters,  Setting healthy boundaries with friends and family, reading about Tea/Coffee magick, Getting involved with your local community, Advocating for policies you believe will better the community Allowing yourself to rest,  Do a chore you've been putting off for a long time, organize to hang out with some loved ones, Veil or bind your hair, Wear something red or orange, Make a devotional playlist for her, make a Pinterest board or a mood board for her, Learn about kitchen witchery, Cook a meal in her name, Clean the House, Put together a puzzle, Eat popcorn and watch a movie, do Knitting, read about knitting, donate yarn and

knitting supply’s, prepare food for family, make the table before eating, garden, Harvest berries, pick flowers, Donate to food charity/drives, Support people who lost their homes to natural disasters, Welcoming others into your home, Keeping the peace (especially in the home), Donations of time & money to Habitat for Humanity, Do little (or big) acts of kindness, If you have a fireplace light it for Her or build Her altar around it, Meditate next to a fire, Read poetry or a book, play a playlist for Her and play it while you clean or cooks, Clean your house/room and keep it nice and tidy, Take a cooking or baking class, Collect recipes and keep a recipe book, Host celebrations at your home, Remember your ancestors and learn more about them, Spend time with your pets, Take care of yourself and your mental and physical health (Your body is a home for you),  Take a hot bath, eat some ice cream, chill at home for a day, Pray to Her( ex- for protection, inspiration, happiness, guidance, and help getting rid of negative entities in the home, peace in the home, good food, an abundance of food, independence), help to start/tending to the hearth, work on having strong family bonds, Open your curtains and let the sunlight warm the room, Make a potful of tea and keep it in a large thermos, Watch movies that make you feel nostalgic and cozy, Say goodnight and good morning to her, Get an electric blanket and feel the warmth connect you to her, Cuddle a stuffed animal, Make a blog/journal filled with cozy homely things, Keep a few locally baked goodies nearby for when you need them, String up fairy lights and use them as your only light source, Whisper prayers and devotional pieces before you go to sleep, Use a Himalayan salt lamp to connect to feeling of a fire, Invest in little things (ex- pillowcases, photos, curtains) that make your room feel welcoming and peaceful, Make a little bottle filled with herbs and crystals and other things that remind you of her, Listen to music that makes your soul happy and your heart content, Take care of yourself (ex- Brush your hair, use a wet cloth on your face), Keep a tealight on you, Clean one small area of your house, Savor a hot drink, Do small, unnoticed acts of kindness, Always greet animals (both big and small), Do anything by candlelight,  Wear colors you associate with her, Practice your patience (both external and internal), Be a listening ear or shoulder to cry on for those who need it, Make compromises when it is healthiest for both parties, always have a lighter or matches, Listen to music that reminds you of her, Spend time tending to your body, Leave a big tip the next time you have a chance, Practice kindness in all areas of your life (including driving), Take a hot bath or shower with no time limit, Decorate a space, Build a fire, Compliment people (both strangers and loloved ones), Donate something (ex-clothes, money, or your time), Look at photos and embrace the happy nostalgia, Wear makeup or jewelry that reminds you of her, Wake up early to see the sunrise - or watch the sunset, Watch/read about acts of kindness to be inspired, wear prayer beads that are for her, go to a high school reunion, do a family reunion, do budgeting in her honor, do meal planning, set healthy boundaries, have a household notebook, do seasonal cleaning, try home remedies,As you light your gas stove, say a prayer to Hestia, Spend quiet quality time at home, Gather your family (including your chosen family) for a festive candlelit meal, Commit to spending more time with children and old people.

Ephithets•Äídios - eternal, Aïdius – See Äídios., Basileia - See Vasíleia, Bulaea - See Voulaia., Chloömorphus – See Khlöómorphos, Daughter of lovely-haired Rǽa, Khlöómorphos - verdan, Polýmorphos - multi-formed, Polyolbus – See Polýolvos, Polýolvos - rich in blessings, Potheinotáti - beloved, Prutaneia – See Prytaneia, Prytanei, Vasíleia - queen, Voulaia - of the council, Prytaneia -”of the Prytanis.” 

Equivalents• Vesta (Roman), loki (Norse), Brigid (Celtic), Hathor (Egyptian)

Signs they are reaching out• having a strong urge to Vail in her honor, seeing her animals and symbols in your dreams, and seeing her imagery a lot, everything at home suddenly going well.

Vows/omans• that she “would be a maiden all her days”

Morals• morally light/pure

Courting• None 

Past lovers/crushes• None

Personality• She avoids drama, and is generous, but her temper is volcanic in nature, she is slow to anger, but when she gets angry her rage is a force of nature. She is modest, tranquil, and industrious

Home• Mount Olympus 

Mortal or immortal • immortal 

Fact• Historically she is supposed to be the first deity offered to in a ritual due to being the goddess of fire, she's the oldest Olympian, She is spat out last by Kronos so she is also the youngest, she shares her seat with Diyonisus, she did not give it up, she receives a share of every sacrifice/prayer to the gods, and she is commonly seen alongside with Hermes, I would recommend putting their alters close together.

Element• fire 

Curses• a bad family life, food being burnt, having not enough food, being turned away at restaurants, being homeless, your house catching on fire 

Blessings• all domestic happiness and blessings

Roots• Greek mythology….and she was raised in her father's stomach, and at the first years of theogony era.

Friends• all of the gods, but most notably Hermes, but is not friends with Priapus, she dislikes him (he tried to rape her.) 

Parentage• Cronus and Rhea

Siblings• Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades, Demeter, Hera 

Pet• she has no pets.

Children • she has no children.

Appearance in astral or gen• she was typically represented wearing a veil and robe. In some images, she held a flowering branch or kettle as well.

Festivals • None, at every feast and meal a liberation was made to her name first and last, but I associate Thanksgiving with her, but her Roman counter part Vesta has 1-15 June of each year, an then another festival celebrated on 8-9 July.  Hestia is also mentioned on 8 June. But a neo-pagan sets aside 26 December – 22 January as a month devoted to Hestia.

Status• Virgin theoi goddess.

What disrespects her turning away people at your home (she is a goddess of hospitality and it was seen as disrespectful to her to do so.)

Planet• unknown 

Her Tarot cards• the Temperance, the fourteenth Major Arcana card.

Remind me of• Hot cocoa, and Thanksgiving. 

Scents/Inscene • Lavender, Rose, spring water,  rain, Pumpkin, Apple pie, cinnamon, fall leaves, Chamomile, Myrrh, Frankincense, Iris, Angelica, Peony, Angelica, iris, Sandalwood 

My opinion • I like her, but I'm scared of her too. (what a shocker!) 

Prayers• 

Historical-

Holy Queen of Sanctity, we hymn you, Hestia, whose abiding realm is Olympus and the middle point of earth and the Delphic laurel tree! You dance around Apollo’s towering temple rejoicing both in the tripod’s mantic voices and when Apollo sounds the seven strings of his golden phorminx and, with you, sings the praises of the feasting gods. We salute you, daughter of Kronos and Rhea, who alone brings firelight to the sacred altars of the gods; Hestia, reward our prayer, grant wealth obtained in honesty; then we shall always, dance around your glistening throne.

For the lost -

Blessed Hestia, the first and the last, and the always flame. May your light burn bright and strong, May your prayers be those of respect and love, May you guide the lost, And give to those who have nothing. I give thanks to you, Hestia, for all that you have done And continue to do.

For people with intrusive thoughts -

I ask Hestia, the kind goddess, to help those who feel down. May they find comfort and peace inside of their homes and inside their own minds. Protect them for their destructive thoughts, and be the safe place they need so much

A prayer for homeles—

In Hestia’s name, may you always have a home and a roof over your head. May you always be comfortable and warm with a full belly. May you always be in good spirits and good company, never knowing the pervading loneliness that envelopes the soul.

Morning 

Blessed Hestia, Fill this home with your light and bounty, As the day fills it with golden sunshine.

Evening

Glorious Hestia, Let your hearth fire warm this house, As night draws her shadowed cloak over it now.

Blessings of the kitchen-

Hestia bless my little kitchen, I love it’s every nook And bless me as I do my work, Wash pots and pans and cook. May the meals that I prepare, Be seasoned from above, With thy blessings and thy grace, But most of all thy love

Links/websites/sources •

ts-witchy-archive, constantly-disheveled, saryoak, eldritchhorror06, https://twelfthremedy.tumblr.com/post/625205765818515456/hestia-offerings/amp, https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/179727039352/offerings-to-hestiahttps://twelfthremedy.tumblr.com/post/625205765818515456/hestia-offerings/amphttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/179727039352/offerings-to-hestiahttps://www.learnreligions.com/hestia-greek-goddess-of-the-hearth-2561993#:~:text=Keep%20a%20candle%20dedicated%20to,prayers%2C%20songs%2C%20or%20hymns.https://www.theoi.com/Ouranios/Hestia.html#:~:text=In%20myth%20Hestia%20was%20the,youngest%20of%20the%20six%20Kronides.https://www.theoi.com/Ouranios/Hestia.htmlhttps://greekmythology.fandom.com/wiki/Hestia#google_vignettehttps://greekmythology.fandom.com/wiki/Hestiahttps://greekgodsandgoddesses.net/goddesses/hestia/https://www.hellenicgods.org/festivals-of-hellenismos---eortai https://hestiasservant.wordpress.com/2018/05/27/honoring-hestia-a-festival-every-day/https://www.elissos.com/the-family-goddess-hestia-mother-of-all-gods/#:~:text=The%20birth%20of%20Hestia%20dates,to%20his%20throne%2C%20his%20children.https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhea_(mythology)#:~:text=According%20to%20Hesiod%2C%20Rhea%20had,and%20Zeus%20in%20that%20order.https://www.reddit.com/r/pagan/comments/14sy8cj/is_hestia_reaching_out_to_me/https://mythopedia.com/topics/hestia

http://persephoneandhecate.blogspot.com/2011/06/exploring-archetypes-hestia.html?m=1https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/170063420188/bedridden-devotion-to-hestiahttps://honeyandhestia.tumblr.com/post/170063420188/bedridden-devotion-to-hestiahttps://www.tumblr.com/heatherwitch/160613514230/hestiavesta https://constantly-disheveled.tumblr.com/post/156636591525/can-a-hearth-fire-just-be-a-candle-that-you-lighthttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/169551188078/devotional-activities-for-hestiahttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/167758105763/jar-to-help-me-connect-to-hestia-chamomilehttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/171225676313/burn-herbs-and-spices-as-an-offering-to-hestia-i https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/183383795283/what-kind-of-crystals-would-yall-associate-with https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/171208375440/a-historical-prayer-to-hestiahttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/169394109439/i-ask-hestia-the-kind-goddess-to-help-those-who https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/166938581678/if-youre-still-doing-prayer-requests-may-you-be https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/178225408393/lady-hestia-goddess-of-comfort-and-warmth-to https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/183772520921/a-little-kitchen-prayer-for-hestia https://www.hellenicgods.org/festivals-of-hellenismos---eortai

I use resources, I do not own the info, and most deep dives have UPG (that I use in my work.) And I only take some information from sources. I am 14, this is my hobby, I am learning but I spent many hours and days on this, and I am always open to criticism. I have been doing worship for 5 years. Please know you can use the info, I do not sue, but I will take action if this work is used without permission and not put as a resource if used in any work. without permisson and not put as a resource if used in any work, for the public.

[willtheweaver]

OC questionnaire tag

Thanks for the tag @drchenquill

My questions are:

1. What’s your favorite scent?

2. Would you rather keep the memory of a loved one or keep an object that once belonged to them?

3. What is the worst pain you have ever experienced?

Well, it’s time to tug a few heartstrings again. Let’s go to A Feather in the Forest and hear from Fen and his adopted family. (As always when I do them, this takes place between the prologue and the main story and may contain minor spoilers)

1. What’s your favorite scent?

Fen: I love the scent of pines the most.

Playa: Only one? I would have to choose the smell that comes after the rain.

Caine: My first choice would be the smell of meat roasting over a fire.

2. Would you rather keep a memory of loved one or an object that once belonged to them?

Fen: Ooooo, why must this be so hard? Can I say both?

Sorrel: I know it sounds like cheating, but both are important. The memory gives context to the item, and the item helps give the memory meaning.

Caine: I simply can’t choose. An object without the memory is meaningless, and the memory needs the item to give it context.

3. What is the worst pain you have ever experienced?

Fen: I guess that breaking my leg would count. Don’t know how I did it, but I did. Was a real pain for the whole time it mended.

Sorrel: The worst pain is the one I am feeling right now. Been getting worse the last few weeks. Went to the healers and they confirmed the worst; the sickness that lingers around the wall is in me. I’ve got two, three years at most to live. I don’t know if either Fen or Caine would be able to cope. But I have to tell them sooner or later.

Caine: Without a doubt, the accident out on the game trails. When the tree fell on my leg…I blacked out. Don’t remember a thing. Was told later that I screamed for five seconds straight. Afterwards… the pain lingered for a week. The worst was the phantom pain where my leg used to be.

Tagging @winterandwords @indecentpause @rivenantiqnerd @oh-no-another-idea @smudged-red-ink

@sentfromwolves @talesofsorrowandofruin @mysticstarlightduck @autism-purgatory @kaylinalexanderbooks

@illarian-rambling @somethingclevermahogony @i-can-even-burn-salad @leahnardo-da-veggie and open tag for any who are interested

Your questions are:

1. What is your idea of a romantic date?

2. Can you be trusted to keep a secret?

3. What is one thing that makes your blood boil?

[ffxiv-f13ndish]

Message Received

((collab. drabble w/ @sorrel-haven ! [Lament]))

Lament sat at their writing desk, an open journal in front of them as they idly tapped out a rhythm. The blank page mocked them as they stared down at it. Their shoulders rose and fell with their heavy sigh. It seemed writing would not be happening at that moment. They crossed their arms over the book and buried their face as they began to doze off at their desk. Sleep fully took them after a few moments passed.

There were two firm knocks at the door before Virgil let himself into the study. Virgil walked over to stand across from Lament’s desk, setting down a paper before them. 

“I know, bed rest. However –” Virgil set down a piece of paper on the desk and slid it over to Lament. “Do pass this message to Dante at the thaumaturge’s guild. I would rather not have to send off the mimic for such a mundane task.”

Lament hadn’t stirred when Virgil entered the room. They had become a heavy sleeper over the years of living in the loud Sorrel house. Their hair partially obscured their face as they snored softly. 

Virgil gave a tilt of his head at the silence, only to then realize Lament was sleeping soundly. Ah, well it was a good thing he hadn’t continued rambling, else there would be nobody to hear. He glanced to the corner of a book that peeked out from under Lament’s crossed arms. Virgil reached out to give a curious tug, in hopes of reading what Lament had written – which, unbeknownst to Virgil, was presently nothing – but his hand paused nearby Lament’s head as his eyes wandered to their concealed expression. 

The crook of Virgil’s index finger gingerly moved the curtain of Lament’s hair from their face. His eyes scanned over their slumbering visage. They looked to be at peace. There was a charming softness he hadn’t quite noticed before, given how often they twisted their brow at him. Virgil’s gaze lingered.

His finger fondly brushed against the side of their face, sliding down the slope of their freckled cheekbone before he pulled his hand back. He supposed he could take care of this himself. 

Lament’s eyes suddenly shot open as they took in a sharp breath. They clutched their head as a sharp pain coursed through. Panic nearly set in as some of Virgil’s memories flooded in. When the pain subsided they were left out of breath, hands shaky. They looked around to reorient themself and caught sight of Virgil.

“V-Virgil… You startled me.” They tucked their hands away and sat back in their chair. 

Virgil stepped back as Lament had a very alarming awakening. At first, he wondered if it was a dream which caused them distress, but the clear expression of pain said otherwise. It was one he was familiar with.

His eyes widened a fraction.

“Of course… I suppose it isn’t unlikely that such a trait is shared among twins,” he mumbled  in wonder. His gaze fell cold.

“What did you see?” He inquired, stiffly.

“I… I saw a few memories, none too pleasant.” Lament said softly. “I… I didn’t mean to pry… I know that I’ve read your journal… but this is different, I’m sorry.”

Virgil remained silent for a moment. He breathed out slowly. He held up a hand.

“Let us be done with it,” Virgil responded with a stony expression. “Now, I’ve come to inquire of some assistance in delivering a message.”

It seemed Virgil had no intentions on lingering on what had happened, putting up an aloof visage. The barrier had come up. 

“Wait… are you mad? Did you not know?” Lament asked, confused by Virgil trying to shut it down so quickly and with so few words.

Virgil’s brow twitched, but there was no overt display of emotion across the Elezen’s features.

“I was unaware. And of course, I’m furious. Which is why it would benefit the both of us if you go and carry this out for me — or I could go out and do it myself,” Virgil coldly responded. He started to slide the paper back over to Lament, but paused. Virgil picked it back up.

“I’m wasting my time. I’ll do it myself,” he said as he turned towards the door. Lament quickly got up and went around the desk, grabbing Virgil’s sleeve.

“Wait a second, Virgil, don’t shut me out. Please talk to me…” Lament pleaded. 

Virgil stilled at the tug of his sleeve, but he didn’t turn to look at Lament.

“There is nothing to discuss-”

“Clearly there is! You’re upset and I can’t make it right if you keep it in. What are you upset about specifically? The things I saw? That you didn’t know? What?” Lament held on tight.

Virgil said nothing for a long while. His posture remained stiff, his breaths tense and slow as he maintained control. When he finally turned his head to look at Lament, his fiery gaze was set like hot daggers within his icy complexion.

The woe in Lament’s eyes startled him. Virgil’s glare softened, but his countenance remained hardened.

“There is nothing to make right after delving into what you could have possibly seen. There was nothing you controlled, and nothing that could remedy the past. You can not fix this, as there is nothing that you are responsible for fixing,” Virgil steadily responded. His other hand reached up, gently setting on top of their’s as they clutched at his sleeve.

Lament tensed at Virgil’s hand on his but quickly relaxed. They were able to relax for the time being.

“I can apologize for not warning you. My Echo…” Lament took in a breath,  “It’s triggered by skin on skin contact, if I'm aware… I can suppress it. And it’s not all the time if I'm not aware, mind you.”

“Given the nature of my research, it isn’t inexplicable that you and your sister would hide it from me. I had found out early on that she held the gift, and she had insisted you didn’t. I suppose I was misguided, else I’d refrain from… contact,” Virgil said, his gaze lingering on their lips for a moment before he met their eyes once more.

“I understand it is not something many can control. I had barely managed by the time I got a grasp on it, before the blessing had begun to fade,” he finished with a faint sigh, and his hand withdrew from Lament’s. 

“I am nowhere near Kore’s level of control, but I don’t need you to refrain…” Lament said letting it trail off at the end. 

“And I would not want to refrain,” Virgil admitted, a softer lilt in his voice.

“And please, don’t hold it against Kore, she probably was trying to protect me, and then forgot about the whole thing. She’s surprisingly scatterbrained for someone so seemingly put together.” Lament added.

 “Of course. Hiding such information was to be expected, given the circumstances at the time of the conversation. I would have done the same for you.” Virgil’s gaze broke, his head lowering as he pondered what Lament could have seen. 

“Do you understand… no, perhaps not understand, per se. Do you see why I carry out what I do? Why I must become stronger?” Virgil’s voice retained a softness, but there was a menacing linger in his tone. “There is much to rearrange. Much to destroy.” 

“I… I would gladly punish the individuals that wronged you. You needn’t even ask it of me.” Lament lightly touched Virgil’s face. “But I still won’t help raize the entire city. There are more souls there than the evil ones.”

“Even if you cut the rot from a plum, the mold has embedded deep inside. All that is left to do is to discard it,” Virgil said as he placed his hand over Lament’s. “I don’t expect your assistance, regarding that. I know you won’t do that.”

He reached out with his other hand and placed it on the small of their back as he stepped closer.

“Although… I’m certain it will make a thrilling tale for you to tell — isn’t that right, my songbird?” There was a brief flicker of a smile at Virgil’s lips, his head tilting to one side as he addressed the songwriter. 

“It’s still unwritten, we’ll see what turns it takes.” Lament smiled, pressing closer.

Virgil’s head tilted in the other direction as he gave a hum in thought.

“Then I suppose we shall have to see how it develops,” the Elezen said as he drew back. “Now then — will you be able to assist me with another matter?”

Lament pouted, “Which I might be more amenable to if you didn’t just ruin the moment.” 

Virgil’s head tilted once more.

“I’m sorry?” he responded, clearly not understanding.

“You should have kissed first then asked a favor. Just sayin.” Lament huffed. 

Virgil gave a faint ‘oh’ in response, before he proceeded to draw them in once more to give them a kiss. Lament leaned into the kiss. Savoring the moment, they smiled while their lips were still close.

“That’s better, now what’s the favor?”

“Shall I expect that to be necessary every time I must request a favor from now on?” Virgil dryly inquired, though the remark was but a playful jest. He held up the slip of paper once more.

“If you will, I’d like for you to deliver a message to Dante at the thaumaturge’s guild. He’s less inclined to shoot on sight when it is not myself or the mimic,” he requested. 

“Hmm, not sure how keen he’d be to see me after the last few interactions I’ve had with him… but I guess it’ll be better than him trying to attack you,” Lament said with a sigh, taking the paper from Virgil.

“Only a few interactions. Dante is vengeful, but not cruel,” he assured, resting his hands on Lament’s shoulders as he leaned in and kissed them on the forehead. “Thank you.” 

- - -

Lament leaned against a pillar in the Thaumaturge Guild’s public halls. They could have strolled through the guild if they wanted. They visited many times with Odetta in the past. They didn’t want to be alone in a room with Dante however; so when they checked in with the receptionist they asked her to have Dante meet them in the public chamber. Hopefully he’d decide to come out to play, Lament didn’t want to have to go find him.

Upon hearing of Lament’s request to meet with him out in the public chambers, Dante sunk deeper into the shelves of Ghost’s private study. Past interactions with Lament didn’t bode well for this meeting. Frankly, Lament was the last person Dante needed to see.

He busied himself with organizing books as he fought to ignore looming thoughts of the presence who awaited him outside.  Ghost peaked over her book.

“Are you not going to meet with Lament?” she asked as she turned a page.

Dante kept his eyes set on the shelf, scanning for anything out of order. Seemed that everything was set in place – save for himself.

“I just… I-I don’t think it's a good idea. Last time we spoke, they were waving around a scythe and I… well…” Dante apprehensively responded, idly poking at a groove in the bookshelf with a nail. “I don’t think they are here to make friends, anyways.”

“You don’t know why they’re here. Besides, Lament is dramatic, not vindictive.” She set the book down open in front of her and laced her fingers. She leaned forward on her elbows as her tail flicked. “Don’t make me order you to go see them. I will.”

Dante’s eyes and ears lowered. He gave a reluctant nod of his head.

“I’ll be back shortly,” he said with a sigh. Dante reluctantly left the study to go meet Lament.

It took everything in Dante to refrain from hiding behind one of the pillars in the public area. 

“Lament, yeah? Is there… something you need?”  He greeted Lament as he approached them slowly, bearing a nervous smile.

Lament sighed softly as they pulled out a letter from their pocket. They unfolded it and pushed away from the pillar as they began to read out loud.

“Dante, Due to the circumstances, which I will refrain from explaining in full detail, I will be having Lament share this information with you. Lament, please do not stray from details.” Lament scoffed lightly at the last line.

Dante stared in disbelief. Were they seriously just reading him a letter?

“I’m sorry – what? Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I really… really don’t want to hear what he has to say through you-” Dante quickly interjected, before Lament held up a finger to cut him off.

“I acknowledge your frustrations, and how the dissolution of our relationship had set us both on unfavorable courses. Our paths have intertwined once more, with the supposed pretense that for one path to continue, it must overtake the other. Pray, let us discuss a new path,” they continued. 

“Gods, does this man ever keep things brief?” Lament asked under their breath while reading ahead quietly to themself.

“He doesn’t. So he’s made you his messenger, along with being his guard?” Dante said with a breath of frustration. It didn’t seem he was entirely tuned in, and was more so troubled by the fact that it was Lament who had come to deliver Virgil’s message. “I want him. I want him here to deliver these words himself.”

“That’s too bad, he’s on bed rest, and you’re not exactly welcome to visit after the last time.” Lament said coldly. “He wants to help you. It would be good closure for the both of you to accept the help, without taking his eyes.”

Dante’s expression hardened. He crossed his arms, turning his face away as he burned holes into a wall with a glare.

“I’ve accepted his help before. He took more than he could give. It’s not… it’s not fair,” he mumbled, face twisted in distress as he reflected on earlier memories – and what he had seen recently at the Library. It disgusted him that he was still troubled by it.

“The eyes… I need them. He isn’t yours to care for – he isn’t yours to take,” said the Viera in a barely audible mumble, more so lamenting to himself than to Lament. 

“You can’t be serious.” Lament pinched the bridge of their nose. “He’s not yours anymore, it was two years ago. Get over it.”

Dante gritted his teeth in embarrassment.

“Look, it’s not about that. Just…” Dante closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. “Don’t you have a message to read?”

Lament stared at him for a moment. He let out a soft sigh and folded the letter back up. They tucked it in their pocket and sighed once more. Then they grabbed Dante by the shirt and shoved him to the wall, but not with enough force to hurt. Dante’s eyes widened, his gloved hands grabbing Lament’s wrists in defense, but he was too stunned to fully react right away.

“Stop pretending that you’re just after his eyes. I wouldn’t even need the Echo to see what’s in your heart when it’s clearly written on your face.” Lament said, irritation seeping into their words.

“You… you think you know everything. You don’t understand, and you haven’t seen it all. If you could see as clearly as you claim you can, then you need to take a better look at what happened. Because what you see from me is what will happen to you. There will be judgment,” Dante firmly stated as he found his voice once more. He looked up at Lament and held their gaze. 

“I’ve seen enough today. Thing is. I’m not you, what happened with you won’t happen with me,” Lament said with steely confidence.

“You’re right, you’re not me. Because you are just a coward,” Dante coldly spoke back in return. “You are enabling a monster, and you don’t want to see that you are wrong. Believe what you want, but you are truly weak.”

Dante held his tongue for a moment, uncertain if he really wanted to say the phrase that burned within his mind. Would that be too cruel?

He can be a little petty. 

“But by all means, if you’re into picking up my leftovers — go right ahead.”

Lament chuckled. “You are so delusional. I don’t care if he’s been with other people. His past is his past, his future is unwritten, all I care about is his present. And presently, I’m due back to his bed.” 

Lament took the letter out of their pocket and shoved it into Dante’s chest before releasing him. They stepped back and crossed their arms.

“Have Ghost deliver your response. She’ll tell me if you just throw the letter away.” Lament said before turning to walk away.

Dante scowled, holding the letter to his chest. He gave a sigh.

“You’ll tire yourself out protecting him. It’s a lot of work  to try and bring someone out of harm when it's all they pursue. Hells, when I first met him, he had just attempted surgery on himself. He’s not well in the head, but I guess neither are you,” Dante spoke up as Lament walked away. 

“Is that so? Well then what does that say about you?” Lament shouted over their shoulder and they left.

Either Dante didn’t want to entertain a response, or he couldn’t get a word out before he left – but he only shook his head. He stuffed the letter into his pocket and turned to walk back to the study.

[sbg-loving-pierog]

INTRODUCTION POST ~

Welcome to School Bus Graveyard Fanblog!

🌑Who the check am I?

This blog is owned by @flying-pierog-art ~ 🥟

(More under the cut!)

On my main blog you'll find preparations for creating my own webcomics, original art or content/art related to other interesting media like PAFL (mostly), Omori and others!

🌑What you'll find here:

Fancomics

Fanart

Occasional polls

Random SBG related rambles

Reblogs of SBG related posts (obv)

🌑What Is SBG?

School Bus Graveyard is a Thriller series and the greatest webtoon there is! It's made by lilredbeany and you can find it Here!

🌑Projects in Progress:

- comic of a noncanon AU where the gang never went inside the sorrel weed house

🌑YOU SHOULD KNOW‼️

I'll try my best to put spoiler warnings for specific episodes before talking about or posting pics from them, as well as specifying if they're slight or MASSIVE spoilers awaiting, but I can't say the same for the reblogs, so I'd recommend being up to date with the episodes before scrolling further down 🙏😔

I also won't be reblogging anything with fast pass spoilers so you're safe from that here 😚👍

ENJOY🌲🌲☻️🌲🌲🌲🌲