#violet vineyard

[brooklynbaby79]

[cannedkopi]

Did spending this week in a vineyard give me ideas for an AU where Anthony has inherited his father's vineyard, failing to keep everything going and Kate is a wine expert (or similar), just like her late father, who gets roped in by Violet to save the family business?

Maybe...

[hecate-valentine]

some rando: lady dimitrescu isnt gay. its all because of this "woke" agenda,

my brother in christ. she drinks the blood of virgin women. women ONLY. she tortures men very brutally and hollows them out to make them scarecrows for her vineyards. she has several paintings in her castle of a woman. she has violets in her castle, which is a symbol of sapphic aka GAY. she also lives in a castle with three goth women (her daughters, who also brutally torture men and drink from virgin women. sometimes eating men.). lady dimitrescu IS gay.

[sadly-never-after]

Music in the EAH Universe and who listens to them Part 3.

This is just an excuse to try to make music puns and share music I think the characters would listen to. (Some of these are even canon by the books!) I don't even like a majority of these musicians but I am fully convinced of my choices here. I marked in colours the one that are canonically part of the EAH Universe.

Since Tumblr only allows 100 inline links for a post I have to make different parts.

Part 1 (Alistair, Apple, Ashlynn, Blondie, Briar, Bunny)

Part 2 (Cupid, Cedar, Cerise, Chase, Courtly, Daring)

Part 3 (Darling, Dexter, Duchess, Farrah, Faybelle, Ginger)

Part 4 (Holly, Hopper, Humphrey, Hunter, Jillian, Justine)

Part 5 (Kitty, Lizzie, Maddie, Meeshell, Melody, Nina)

Part 6 (Poppy, Ramona, Raven, Rosabella, Sparrow, Tucker)

⚔️✧˖°.♞༄｡° Darling Charming ⚔️✧˖°.♞༄｡°

Florence & the Mill (King, Kiss with a Fist, Girls against God)

Girl in red shoes (I Wanna be your girlfriend, Girls, Bad Idea!)

Chappell Throne (Good Luck Babe, Kaleidoscope, Picture You)

Of Wonderland (It's different for girls, Tim I Wish You Were Born A Girl, When a man is in love with a man)

Marina & the Diamond Cards (The Family Jewels, Ancient Dreams in a Modern Land, Baby)

ദ്ദി(⎚_⎚) 🜲 Dexter Charming ദ്ദി(⎚_⎚) 🜲

Taylor Quick (Enchanted, Lavender Haze, Delicate)

Trollplay (Shiver, Fix You, Lost!)

Lady Yaga (Bad Romance, Stupid Love, So Happy I Could Die)

Royale (The Love Club, A World Alone, 400 Lux)

Reigning Spectre (Hero, Two Birds, Hell no)

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹🦢⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ Duchess Swan ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹🦢⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

Marina & The Diamond Cards (Solitaire, Oh No!, Are You Satisfied?)

Knight Chloe (Leash, Animal, Novocaine for the Soul)

Nixie (Drunk Walk Home, Liquid Smooth, Working for the Knife)

The Spooky Jesters (Catabolic Seed, Icicles, Community Gardens)

Rabbit Hole (Violet, Petals, Doll Parts)

ʚĭɞ;༊°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･ Farrah Goodfairy ʚĭɞ;༊°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

Penelorepe Scott (Sweet Hibiscus Tea, Dead Girls, Feel Better)

Nixie (Nobody, Stay Soft, Carry Me Out)

Trollplay (True Love, For You, Always in my head)

Florence & the Mill (Third Eye, Grace, Shake it Out)

Magic Mirror Girl (Lovers Rock, Pretty Boy, Grapes Upon the Vine)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ ࣪˖ ݁𓂃. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ Faybelle Thorn . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ ࣪˖ ݁𓂃. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Gwen Stepfairy (What you waiting for?, Hollaback Girl, The Sweet Escape)

April Vineyard (Girlfriend, Smile, Nobody's Fool)

Pixie Minaj (Barbie Tingz, Roman's Revenge, Roman Holiday)

Britney Spark (Break the Ice, Toxic, Oops!...I Did It Again)

Katy Fairy (Waking Up In Vegas, Last Friday Night, Firework)

🤎‧₊˚𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅🧈🎀🧸 Ginger Breadhouse 🤎‧₊˚𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅🧈🎀🧸

Michelle Key (Sunflower, Let Me Know, My Cue)

Cage the Dragon (Telescope, Halo, Flow)

Ricky Montgnomery (This December, Mr. Loverman, Get Used to it)

Nixie (Pink in the Night, A Loving Feeling, Class of 2013)

Tailor Hall (Never Meant To Know, You & Me, Hidden in the sand)

You are trapped on an eight-hour long road trip with these guys and you have to give one of them the aux chord.

[ghuleh-recs]

The holiday season is on its way out and I magically have the brain space for a rec list! Love that for me! Let's go read about Bone Daddy this week.

recs under the cut.

Kinktober Day 10 - @causticjuice - afab!reader

You keep doing your regular workout but your thoughts and eyes keep drifting to Secondo. His muscles straining, his chest heaving, the beads of sweat running down his forehead. You imagine you’re the reason for those, and not the weights in his hands. Fuck, you were supposed to focus on your body, not his. Stop being such a creep, you idiot. He can definitely tell. Your curiosity wins the battle with your will, though, and you look in his direction once again. And what you see nearly knocks you on your ass. His chest is completely bare, the tank top discarded somewhere to the side. His skin glitters with moisture in between the coarse hair. He seems busy enough that your blatant gawking just might go unnoticed. Unlikely, but possible.

Sliding Home - @ramblingoak - f!reader

It's Secondo's turn in the Ghaseball uniform and you can't stop ogling him.

Nave of Hearts - @leezlelatch - gn!reader

Do you believe in love at first sight? Secondo didn't, until he saw you.

Friday Nights at the Vinothek - @writingjourney - gn!reader

When the local vintner who buys his cigarettes at the kiosk you work at offers you a job you can’t believe your luck. But after moving to the vineyard where the attraction between you only grows, you soon realize that he is not quite who you thought he is – and that working for a vampire comes with unexpected dangers.

la bella luna - @ghostchems - f!reader

after a disappointing evening, you run into a mysterious man on the street.

The King - @kissingghouls - f!reader

You thought accounting would lead to a boring life. Then you started working for Mr. Emeritus.

Come Home to Me - @da-rulah - f!reader

No one ever thought to question why Papa Emeritus II was such a bitter man. People assumed it was a product of his upbringing, of the pressures being an Emeritus brought him. But they had no idea that years ago, he was a completely different man. A man that you so easily fell in love with…

Fevered Love - @zombiequeenblog - f!reader

You take care of your Papa Secondo when he's feeling unwell.

Kiss Prompt Fic - @molly-ghuleh - afab!reader

"I think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss me."

Possession - @violet-lazer - gn!reader

Perhaps it was overconfidence, then, the fact that no strings had truly meant no strings in past dalliances, that had led Secondo to forget that it’s always, always a gamble. No matter how sure you are in your ability to keep a distance, to temper feelings, to avoid threading the needle of jealousy that could so easily burrow its way into one’s chest and tug, nothing is promised. Friends with benefits is fine, easy even, until somebody starts ruminating over the quiet, tender moments before and after the deed or the kisses that linger just a little too long. The gulf is vast between ‘let’s keep this casual’ and ‘let’s try something real.’ (Or: Secondo is finding 'friends with benefits' more difficult than anticipated.)

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

Did I forget your favorite? You've got a standing invitation from me to add your own rec and reblog ♡

[fio-renze]

<<We’ve been instructed to teleport the city. Leyline array shows destination SE of Kalimdor and E of Pandaria. Spool up will take ~45min.>>

That was all she needed to hear, really. Part of her wanted to simply be in the city when it moved — she had never experienced it before, and there was something thrilling about the sheer magical might it would take to transport the island and all its inhabitants halfway across the world. Then the Radiant Song shrieked in her mind, sending a lance of pain, fear, hope and desperation through her core and Fiorenze knew that being in the city was part of something bigger. 

She grabbed her camp kit and shoved it into her enchanted travel bag before giving Rue a smooch on the head. Pyraelia’s house in Eversong had been home for such a short time, and once Dalaran had settled her sister would be back here by the morning to take care of her if Talon’s orders came through to muster. 

Her hand wrapped around the smooth bark on her newly grown staff and she exhaled slowly before tracing the teleportation rune for Dalaran in the air, a glowing thread of arcane following in the wake — and in the space of a blink she was transported, the familiar smooth limestone and violet trappings of the visitor center filled her vision. 

She stepped out into the street and messaged her sister back, <<Here. Are you staying in your archive?>>

The chances of Pyraelia getting back to her quickly were slim, no doubt she was having to delegate work to her assistants to keep all the scrolls and tomes safe in her archive before stepping in to help with the great relocation spell. Fiorenze smiled wryly to herself as she walked through the street, pushing past Kirin Tor mages and civilians trying to get their last minute preparations handled. 

Her little sister wore responsibility better than she ever had — and for causes much greater than anyone in their family could have championed. 

“Ma’am?”  

Fiorenze flicked a long thalassian ear and spared a smile for the weary shopkeeper who had addressed her. The human woman’s face lit up to match, glad she’d been heard, “Would you mind helping us? The teleportation order… Last time we had a wine rack shift and we lost a bunch of inventory. I’d be more than happy to part with a few bottles as payment!” 

Who was she to say no to that? 

They made small talk while Fiorenze grew some vines to help keep the rack cabinet doors securely shut. This was her only shop, but her older sister had a similar one on the other side of the city. They didn’t own a vineyard themselves, but collected bottles from all over the world. Dalaran — and all her cosmopolitan travelers — had been kind to them over the years. Between the two of them it was quick enough work, and the proprietress wished her well as they parted. 

<<Yes, we’re the keepers of one of the conduits. In casies:>> A picture came through with the message, a diagram of the city with escape portals clearly marked. <<ETA 2 min. Find a spot to hang out with a roof and walls! Or not, I guess, you can be a bird now if something goes weird, right?>> 

She could, and she desperately did not want to be indoors for this. The evacuation points were the same as they always were, and she smiled as she shot back a reply, <<Appreciate you. I’ll be alright, don’t worry about me.>>

The minutes stretched on for what felt like eons, but she — and everyone else around her — gasped as they felt the upwelling of arcane beneath their feet. Great glowing lattices of runes raced across the flagstones and up the towers. There was an overwhelming rush of power, so deliciously concentrated. Would she ever feel anything like this again? The way it thrummed beneath her feet almost made her understand what her parents, and their parents before them on and on up the ancestral tree, had been chasing. 

In an instant it was over. Motes of arcane residue drifted down and dissipated into nothing as the city settled into its new space under an early evening sky. Halfway across the world in a split second. 

And then all hell broke loose. 

Thousands of void-dark portals cleaved the calm air, spilling Nerubian horrors in a torrent. Eldritch spiders swarmed up the great towers in a chittering mass that was rapidly drowned out by the screams of the citizens who were now having to fight for their lives. There was a great, shattering quake and the groaning cacophony of stone being sundered above her. She gripped her staff tighter and ran, dodging and weaving past a growing tide of people fleeing. 

Perhaps it was fate to see familiar faces. Xylaes and Stellan clashed with a gigantic, beetle-like hulk that cracked the ground beneath it wherever it stepped. Its wings flared as it roared in pain, the two men were experts in combat — and this was the street where they lived and worked. Ending the threats here came naturally. Xylaes shifted in a nimble dodge to get out of the way of one of those too-heavy legs. There wasn’t any time to say anything, but the look he gave her was enough to convey a clear and resonant ‘get the fuck out of here’. 

The hulk collapsed then, and they diverged. Stellan and Xylaes turned to clash with a spindly, orb-shaped weavemancer. She shifted shape and flew. Falcons were more nimble, and she was able to effortlessly bank and weave past the skittering swarmites that were descending on the city streets. The higher up she got, the more it became chillingly apparent that this was a coordinated assault. 

Her gaze immediately went to what had once been the Sunmote Tower — her family’s home here for nearly a century. Pyraelia’s final renovation before they’d sold it months ago had been to add an entire floor of glass windows as a conservatory. It glittered in the sunlight as all the panes broke out at once, giving way as the central pillar fractured and crashed down to the ground in a great cloud of dust. 

She tucked in her wings and rocketed toward it. There were people in that district, in the other homes around the base. One of the emergency portals would be nearby. Someone had to help. 

Finding a clear spot to set back down was nearly impossible. The rubble of what had once been her stately home covered a large swathe, but the living quarters had stayed mostly intact. Fiorenze crouched low and hid behind a jagged chunk of balcony, waiting, listening. Cries of agony ebbed eerily in the tide of discordant magic and the thrum of arcane defense. There was a distant part of her that knew that she’d hear that in her nightmares for centuries to come. If she stayed still any longer there was a risk she’d freeze and — 

“Help!” 

It was the faintest of cries, just beyond and below her perch, inside what was left of the tower. 

“Help me! Please! Anybody!” 

She scrambled over the balcony, looking for any access. This had been her balcony, and the more her hands clawed stone away the more it revealed pockets of entry into what was left of the collapsed bedroom she had known and loved. 

Fiorenze slipped down through a crack big enough to allow her and landed in the dark, her eyes adjusting to the low light as she blinked through the still settling dust. 

There Director Aradana Mirthstar was, trapped and bleeding under a collapsed section of the ceiling — staring at her with wide eyes and rapt terror. 

This was no longer a rescue. 

Aradana Mirthstar had tried to kill her. Aradana Mirthstar had bought her family home. Aradana Mirthstar was a pest, an annoying little mystery. 

“Fiorenze! Thank the stars!” 

She slid carefully down the banked tile floor until she was closer to the Quel’dorei woman, “Who gave you the order to kill me, Aradana?” 

Aradana’s face couldn’t get any paler, and whatever plea she was about to continue immediately silenced, “This isn’t the time. Please, free me and I’ll tell you everything.” 

Fiorenze’s charming, diplomatic mask slid into place, full of warmth and good intentions, “Tell me while I figure out how to get this off of you without hurting you more.” She made every effort to seem helpful, checking the edges of the slab to see where it could be lifted. 

There was another great rumble and everything shifted. Rubble and dust rained and Aradana’s body was crushed just a little more, “Faster, please,” she gave a shuddering little sigh and dug her nails into the stone below her as if to pull herself forward. Nothing budged. “… Director Embercrown. He heard the Grand Magister was setting you up to take his place.” 

Rommath had implied he was on the road to retirement. Forced, perhaps. How curious. She settled down next to the erstwhile double agent, thoughts racing under the gauze of shock and sheer instinct to get out of this dangerous place that could — and would — continue to collapse. Her fingers threaded through Aradana’s golden hair, “Thank you for your honesty.” 

They had been friends of a sort once, many decades ago when they were both fighting for notoriety. The ceiling she was trapped under was, truthfully, the only thing keeping her alive. Pressure on a great wound. Aradana was dying and didn’t realize it. Was it better to tell her? Was it better to let her go with hope? 

She didn’t get a choice. 

Another collapse nearby shifted everything again, just enough for the great chunk of rock to lift up enough that it gave Aradana immediate relief. Her eyes lit up, reality set in, and she laughed in a desperate, plaintive sort of way before going still. 

Fiorenze looked up at where she had come in — the hole that was supported by half of the door frame had gotten smaller. It didn’t matter. She had to go. 

She traced her teleportation rune in the air again, putting faith in the integrity of the city. She opened her eyes and swung her staff at the Nerubian guard that lunged for her when she materialized outside the Visitor Center. A city guard grabbed her from behind and shoved her toward the stairs that lead toward Krasus’ Landing, covering her retreat. 

Warbled, arcane warning messages warbled through the chaos, too damaged to fully convey their message but managing to do so in the most effective way even still, “Evacuate.” 

She ran through the next available portal with people she’d never seen before, only to land on an unfamiliar beach. They all turned their eyes to the sky as a growling peal of thunder rolled out in the middle of a nearly cloudless sunset, and observed as a roiling gloom engulfed the center of the city. 

Her heartbeat pulsed in her ears and the growing knot of tension in her stomach dropped as Dalaran exploded. Fragments of rock and arcane crystal hung in the violet sky for a second that felt like eons. 

Screams shook her out of her stupor, and for good reason. The force of the explosion was sending that debris rocketing their way. There wasn’t any time to stop, panic or mourn. She had to find cover and find it fast, but one extremely important thought was on her mind:

Where was Pyraelia?

@xylaes / @inistellan / @themercenaries

[phoenix-downer]

Olympus Ascent

Sora was on top of the world.

No, literally. He suspected that the well-worn, often-used suitcase was doing more than just carrying clothes and toiletries; its steady weight was helping him stay grounded on this tall, windy mountain. That and his traveling companion, her red hair whipping back and forth, the skirt of her blue dress flapping loudly, her cheeks flushed with a combo of the climb, the climate, and excitement.

“Let's sit here and rest a while,” she said, one hand grasped firmly in Sora’s, the other clutching her wide-brimmed straw hat decorated with blue roses. The breeze up here was strong, ready to lift unsuspecting hats off of pretty redheads as it had once already, so she was right to be careful.

Here was a comfortable-enough looking spot of gray rock and green grass on the ascent to Mount Olympus, and Sora gratefully set the suitcase down and took a seat. Kairi soon joined him, finding his hand again and resting her other hand on the suitcase. Her breathing was hard at first, but gradually, it slowed down, as did his.

“Wow, the view from up here is incredible.” Her violet eyes scanned the horizon, taking in the rolling green hills, sapphire blue lakes, winding rivers fed by clear streams, multicolored autumn leaves swaying on trees, and vineyards full of ripe grapes. Human settlements dotted the landscape, and in the far, far distance below near Thebes, the sea sparkled.

The weather here was perfect, one of those sunny fall days that cools down enough at night to make cuddling by campfires pleasant but is warm enough during the day for short sleeves and summer dresses. The puffy, fluffy clouds provided just the right shade coverage, too.

Sora smiled softly, content to watch Kairi take it all in. As far as he was concerned, she was the best part of the view. Journeying with her was something he'd always dreamed of, seeing the worlds side-by-side, hand in hand. He kept having to pinch himself to make sure this was real. But one glance at Kairi's smiling, delighted face reminded him it was.

“To think, we made it up all that way on foot!” she said presently. “I can see why people think ascending a mountain is like ascending to the gods.”

“On this world, that actually is true.” Sora wondered if all the stories of gods living in high up places were various worlds’ ancestral memories of Mount Olympus, dating from when all the worlds were one World. Or maybe some of the other worlds had gods who lived on mountains, too. He hadn't really run into any, unless you counted Mushu (though he was more like a guardian spirit), but there were still so many worlds out there to see.

Kairi looked at him. “Oh, right, the gods of this world live on top of Olympus. I guess we'll be seeing them soon.” She thought about this for a moment, fiddling with her enchanted necklace as was her habit.

He nodded. “Herc will be sure to introduce us properly.”

She giggled into her hand, that delightful Kairi giggle he loved so much.

He tilted his head. “What?”

“It's just so funny to me, how casually you talk about such amazing things. I guess you're used to it, huh?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, right. I guess I don't really think about how weird or cool or awesome this stuff must seem to normal people.”

“So I'm just a normal person, hmmmm?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, her lips twitching.

Darn, he’d walked right into that trap.

“No, anything but!” he exclaimed, waving his hands in front of him. ”I mean you're not weird, you’re just…Different. I mean, special.” She was growing increasingly amused by his inability to get his foot out of his mouth. He groaned and rested his head in his hands. “You’re…Kairi,” he settled on at last.

“Uh-huh,” she said cheerfully as she stood, then clasped her hands behind her back. “So, Sora, what happens after we meet these gods?”

“I'll give you a tour of Olympus!” he said, springing to his feet. “There's the Courtyard when you first get there, and it's massive. Then there are the Corridors which take you to different areas, like the Secluded Forge, where you can make some really good weapons and armor. Oh, and there's the Cloud Ridge too, which is exactly what it sounds like. And all the way up at the top is the Apex! The gods have all their thrones there and stuff, and this big golden gate guards it.”

She tilted her head. “That's allowed? Us mere mortals have permission to explore the abode of the gods?”

He put his hands behind his head and nodded, grinning. “Comes with helping save their realm and all.”

“I thought so,” she said, smiling shyly. “To the people and gods here, you must be something special. A real hero.”

Heat crept up his cheeks, and then he pouted because he'd remembered something. “I wish, but Phil insists I'm only a junior hero.”

“Not to me you aren't. After what you did for me, I'd say you're the truest hero I've ever met. If giving your life for me doesn't make you a hero, I don't know what would.”

He was about to say something in response when she bounced up on her tiptoes and pecked his cheek.

It was just as well. He probably would've said something stupid again that would've ruined the moment, so his flustered silence and her knowing giggles spared him from that.

She picked up their suitcase with ease and handed it to him. He mutely took it, his face still bright red and his thoughts still scrambled.

“C’mon, my hero, we've got a mountain to finish climbing.”

With that she flounced off, turning back to grin and wink.

He grinned, too. “Yes, princess of my heart!”

It was a silly, sappy nickname that every single one of his friends would've teased him over, but going by Kairi's giggle, it made her very, very happy.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

————————————————————————

A/N: This story is dedicated to @apticho for doing the promo artwork for SoKai Week this year ❤️ thank you so much for doing it 🥺 It's such a wonderful, heartfelt piece, and I really appreciate it 🥹❤️

I really enjoyed writing this story because Olympus has such good thematic potential as a setting and I loved it in KH3 (all that ominous talk about Sora’s fate and then the field music on Mount Olympus as you ascended was perfection), flirty banter between Sora and Kairi is always fun to write, and it's such a blast to imagine them traveling the worlds together.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

[welcomingdisaster]

Many Words Monday :)

tagged by @eilinelsghost to share some words!! have this little snippet. of the russingon fic that's gotten out of control.

He spends the year in thought. He is deliberate about these things, even—perhaps especially—when it comes to matters of certainty. 

(It had taken him three years, after all, to slip away from his father’s camp in Mithrim in search of Maedhros. He is precise and careful in his madness, raised in the houses of the Noldor, where boldness in craft was ever accompanied by care.) 

The weather turns inside out and reassembles itself. The grapes give fruit, huge and sweet and red on one side of the vineyard and little deep violet ones on the other. Finrod writes a chapter of his ever-unfinished book, sends it to Fingon, and argues extensively with all of his margin-notes. Angrod wins every bet they have on horse-races for three consecutive months, then enters an incredible losing-streak that nearly ends their thousands-year-old friendship. Maedhros’ puppies grow, though to no very great sizes. Turgon and Elenwë invite Fingon on a weeks-long hunting trip, in the middle of winter, and have quite a fine time freezing. The next spring comes. 

“I will go to speak to the king,” Fingon says, one warm morning, as he buckles the clasps of his loose riding-cloak, “come with me, if you would.” 

Maedhros leans to one side then the other, popping his back loudly. He did not sleep well, tonight; he dreams of some far city, of endless noise, of the smell of dough and colorful wrappers thrown into the sea, of rushing beasts of steel that move underground. “Whatever for? You know he little likes me.” 

Fingon picks up his discarded nightgown and swats him on the ass with it. “That speaks only to his fair judgement. Come, because this matters to me.” 

hmmm who hasn't been tagged yet!! @sallysavestheday @melestasflight @zealouswerewolfcollector @jouissants @searchingforserendipity25 doot doot

[sweetbuckybarnes]

Lover

Pairings: Colin Bridgerton + Penelope Featherington

Summary: As the season of 1817 rolls around, Colin and Penelope get to enjoy the ton as a married couple - Lord and Lady Whistledown.

Masterlist | Albums | Lover Album

We could leave the Christmas lights up ‘til January, and this is our place, we make the rules.

Colin never expected Penelope, his younger sister’s best friend, to make such an impact on his life as she did.

Since Eloise had met the youngest Featherington, the two were attached at the hip. You could never find one without the other. Wherever he looked, there was his sister and her best friend out of the corner of his eye.

Then Penelope made her debut, and Eloise was able to put hers off by a year. During her first year, Colin found just how witty and smart she is (whilst also courting her cousin… he would gladly wipe those moments from his memory).

But then he came back from Greece, and not a single letter in reply from Penelope (which was unlike her), he wanted to kick the drunk version of himself, for saying what he did. Why did he have the help her get a husband and then watch her flirt with Dankworth?

Then the carriage happened. Thank God, for the carriage! She was then finally his.

Take me out and take me home. You’re my, my, my, my lover

Their first year of marriage was as smooth sailing as any other. They were married within two weeks of the end of the season, just a week before Francesca’s wedding (Violet felt like a very proud mama, having married off two of her children in one year).

In one of the many, many letters Colin had sent to his future wife - he had promised to hopefully one day show her the beaches of Greece or the vineyards of Spain.

They stayed in their new home in Bloomsbury, hiding away from the ton and enjoying the newly married life.

Then, as promised, he took her to see the beaches of Greece. Which was where she told him, she believed she was expecting their first child together.

That was until her courses arrived the following week.

And I’m highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you. I’ve loved you three summers now, honey, but I want ‘em all!

By the time they arrived back in England, just in time for the new season to kick off.

“Colin, we must make haste!” Penelope called over her shoulder to her husband as she slipped her shoes back on.

“Do we have to, Pen? Can we not just spend the rest of the day in bed?” He asked, watching as a pink flush rose on his wife’s cheeks (oh, good he could still make her blush).

She sighs, looking in the mirror to sort out the front of her dress. “No, I will not fall on the bad side of your mama and Lady Danbury. Besides, I thought you wanted to help out with Whistledown this season.”

Little did they know, this would be the last season Penelope would write as Lady Whistledown, having promised upon the arrival of their first child - she would cease writing at the end of that season.

Colin got up from their marital bed, practically fully dressed save for his cravat which was untied and hanging around his neck. “You shall have to stop looking at me like this, or else we’ll never leave.”

“Stop it,” she replied with a smile, reaching up to tie his cravat.

“I cannot help it, my wife is a goddess and she must know it!”

“Your wife must be a very lucky woman.”

“I am the lucky one, how I was somehow able to persuade her to marry me, I am the luckiest man in the whole of England. No, the world.”

Penelope had finished his cravat and rested her hands on his chest. “Then I must be the luckiest woman alive to have won the heart of the charming Bridgerton son.”

Colin’s nose twitched at her words - he hated it when she called him ’charming’.

All’s well that ends well to end up with you! Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover.

Colin and Penelope arrived at the palace in the nick of time. He scrambled out of the carriage first, helping his wife down and then hurried along the many corridors to where the debutantes would be arriving.

They slowed down when they spotted the door, giving themselves enough time to catch their breath and make a dignified entrance.

“Where have you two been?” Anthony demanded once the couple joined the family.

“What on earth are you talking about, brother? We’ve been here the whole time, haven’t we, darling?” Colin looked down at his wife, who looked back up at him with her beautiful eyes.

“Indeed.”

Anthony didn’t say anything in reply, only scrunching his face further. “But I’m sure Mother would be delighted to know the reason as to why you nearly missed Hyacinth's debut?”

“Hush, brother.”

Penelope giggled at his side, of course as Lady Whistledown - she knew exactly what he meant.

Oh, you’re my, my, my, my. Darling, you’re my, my, my, my lover.

[ao3feed-kathony]

Walking Blind

read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/59666821 by Sequanea Anthony is the winemaker behind Aubrey Vines, the vineyard he inherited from his father when Edmund Bridgerton died ten years ago. Kate, now working for Danbury Consulting as a PR and marketing specialist, is the daughter of a renowned sommelier who passed away when she was eighteen. When a drunken night out leads to Anthony forgetting about a scheduled wine tasting and losing a potential client as a result, Violet decides that it is time to bring in someone to fix everything that Anthony is unable to handle and asks her old friend Agatha for help. OR Kate is hired by Violet to manage PR and marketing for Aubrey Vines after Anthony’s behaviour leads to the loss of a potential client. Unsurprisingly, Anthony is not exactly happy about this turn of events. Yet, to the surprise of both, the results of their cooperation end up being nothing like what they have expected. OR The enemies-to-lovers winemaker Anthony AU I couldn’t get out of my head. Words: 3464, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Bridgerton (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Anthony Bridgerton, Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Violet Bridgerton, Agatha Danbury Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma Additional Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, HEA, Eventual Smut, Smut, Wine, Vineyard, Alcohol, Intoxication, beta what beta, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/59666821

[thebadtimewolf]

"I don't want to be alone tonight."

send me "I don't want to be alone tonight." for my muse's reaction to yours saying that to mine.

"Okay."

The Vigilante took his hand, her voice soft as she guided him inside her Tardis. She was parked where she was always parked: in Italy, near the outskirts of the vineyards where the hills began to roll. The exterior was forgoing a violet box for a small Italian apartment home with violet and red violet bricks. It was night, stars shining brighter out there.

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

1st March >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

Friday, Second Week of Lent 

(optional commemoration of Saint David, Bishop)

(Liturgical Colour: Violet: B (2))

First Reading Genesis 37:3-4,12-13,17-28 Let us kill him: then we shall see what becomes of his dreams.

Israel loved Joseph more than all his other sons, for he was the son of his old age, and he had a coat with long sleeves made for him. But his brothers, seeing how his father loved him more than all his other sons, came to hate him so much that they could not say a civil word to him.

His brothers went to pasture their father’s flock at Shechem. Then Israel said to Joseph, ‘Are not your brothers with the flock at Shechem? Come, I am going to send you to them.’ So Joseph went after his brothers and found them at Dothan.

They saw him in the distance, and before he reached them they made a plot among themselves to put him to death. ‘Here comes the man of dreams’ they said to one another. ‘Come on, let us kill him and throw him into some well; we can say that a wild beast devoured him. Then we shall see what becomes of his dreams.’

But Reuben heard, and he saved him from their violence. ‘We must not take his life’ he said. ‘Shed no blood,’ said Reuben to them ‘throw him into this well in the wilderness, but do not lay violent hands on him’ – intending to save him from them and to restore him to his father. So, when Joseph reached his brothers, they pulled off his coat, the coat with long sleeves that he was wearing, and catching hold of him they threw him into the well, an empty well with no water in it. They then sat down to eat.

Looking up they saw a group of Ishmaelites who were coming from Gilead, their camels laden with gum, tragacanth, balsam and resin, which they were taking down into Egypt. Then Judah said to his brothers, ‘What do we gain by killing our brother and covering up his blood? Come, let us sell him to the Ishmaelites, but let us not do any harm to him. After all, he is our brother, and our own flesh.’ His brothers agreed.

Now some Midianite merchants were passing, and they drew Joseph up out of the well. They sold Joseph to the Ishmaelites for twenty silver pieces, and these men took Joseph to Egypt.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 104(105):16-21

R/ Remember the wonders the Lord has done.

The Lord called down a famine on the land; he broke the staff that supported them. He had sent a man before them, Joseph, sold as a slave.

R/ Remember the wonders the Lord has done.

His feet were put in chains, his neck was bound with iron, until what he said came to pass and the word of the Lord proved him true.

R/ Remember the wonders the Lord has done.

Then the king sent and released him the ruler of the people set him free, making him master of his house and ruler of all he possessed.

R/ Remember the wonders the Lord has done.

Gospel Acclamation John 3:16

Praise and honour to you, Lord Jesus! God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son: everyone who believes in him has eternal life. Praise and honour to you, Lord Jesus!

Gospel Matthew 21:33-43,45-46 This is the landlord's heir: come, let us kill him.

Jesus said to the chief priests and the elders of the people, ‘Listen to another parable. There was a man, a landowner, who planted a vineyard; he fenced it round, dug a winepress in it and built a tower; then he leased it to tenants and went abroad. When vintage time drew near he sent his servants to the tenants to collect his produce. But the tenants seized his servants, thrashed one, killed another and stoned a third. Next he sent some more servants, this time a larger number, and they dealt with them in the same way. Finally he sent his son to them. “They will respect my son” he said. But when the tenants saw the son, they said to each other, “This is the heir. Come on, let us kill him and take over his inheritance.” So they seized him and threw him out of the vineyard and killed him. Now when the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants?’ They answered, ‘He will bring those wretches to a wretched end and lease the vineyard to other tenants who will deliver the produce to him when the season arrives.’ Jesus said to them, ‘Have you never read in the scriptures:

It was the stone rejected by the builders that became the keystone. This was the Lord’s doing and it is wonderful to see?

‘I tell you, then, that the kingdom of God will be taken from you and given to a people who will produce its fruit.’ When they heard his parables, the chief priests and the scribes realised he was speaking about them, but though they would have liked to arrest him they were afraid of the crowds, who looked on him as a prophet.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[twcebrn]

@stygicniron asked: ❝ there’s times to stand still, and there’s times to keep moving. ❞

dionysus pauses before the prince , pale violet eyes studying the youth with a madness tinged disdain . he speaks of the truth , and there would have been a time where dio would have agreed , perhaps with some quip about how dancing is the best of both .

now ? he only sees an obstacle . his horns only carry phantoms of grapes , dead vines wrapped around the curves . he looks like he gored a winter vineyard , plum hair loosely kept in a bare semblance of a braid , the sharpness of his horns matched only by the intensity in his gaze .

❛ i've stood still long enough , ❜ he murmurs , his scars almost white like brands across dark skin , the proof of his undeath made even more striking here in the underworld . he had not intended to be caught , much less by royalty .

but hermes was taking too long .

❛ if i stop now , she will be lost forever . and i will not have her be lost . not to you , and not to your father . ❜

[clipstone]

Château Julia

Château Julia Haut-Medoc Bordeaux, France 2018 Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon, Petit Verdot Château Julia is not like other wines. The winemaker decided – against the trend in Médoc, where there is a preference for Cabernets – to make wines predominantly of Merlot. This means a Bordeaux that is more plum and cherry driven with less tannins, yum.

Sophie employs traditional, small-scale winemaking methods: the grapes are sorted on the vine, picked by hand and the wine produced plot by plot to get the very best from the vines. The grapes for this red are grown on a mixture of clay and limestone, harvested by hand and then aged for 12 months in oak barrels.

Her two vineyards have been in her family for four generations. Unlike her forebearers who sent their grapes to a wine-making cooperative, Sophie has chosen to make her own wines, under her own name, at Château Julia - Julia is a contract of her children's first names: Julie and Lucas. Expressive, fruity, full bodied red, powerful yet elegant. Medium tannins and high acidity.

Tasting notes: dark fruits, blackberry, cassis, violets, chocolate Pairing: beef, lamb, game

[buffalojournal]

Two Poems by Morgan L. Ventura

A Brief Synesthetic History

When I look around it could be said we are living in dark times, the walls & skies & sea & clouds & spaces within me, obsidian smoke, pitch tar, pooled oil. It tastes of ash & petrol & mould & the edge of a boiled knife & I hear the whooshing whooping of distant stars – black holes – ebony arias bending, twisting vibrations. What’s true is I want brighter times, amber & magenta times, spirals of smiling roses & giddy peonies, & detonations of laughing citrine. Times that carry the blush of wisteria, caramel popcorn, earnest eucalyptus. I was born in green times – aventurine smiles & verdant yards blooming viridian jewels, emerald & jade hanging from low branches, wistful and content. The 80s rainforest transmutes blue. Periwinkle times, the 90s breathed cornflower winds and bluebell gales, husked sapphire on metal plates, glimmering robin eggs on cedar porch chirping an unearthly jingle piercing aquamarine eyes of my father who knew only sadness. The sky only spoke rain, it was falling sea, shredded wave, lacerated labradorite, cascades of troubled cerulean. Shocked like glaciers arguing, raging because all’s spilled into red. A time of crimson, furls of fuchsia in the tide of blood after flames across New York, after strikes in Chicago, after death in the family. The 2000s were carnelian, lay the bead beneath my tongue, the rubies on my eyes, enshrine me in magma, encrust me in this livid tomb. Vitrine of vermillion, what is a body but stained glass, medieval sun never modern. The next era’s violet, arched, mutilated candy blossoming from irises in the back. In the evening light it all shivers purple, bruised lilacs yammer & portend a luminous love. Amethyst troves in the attic squirm & emit warmth, simmering with snapdragon & grapes, pisco vineyard from a decade ago, time punctured by lazy lost lagoons. Take me now into what seems like blank times, off-shades of pale peeling into crystal pears & glass shards as we wait, & the iridescent soul in the body of the future, the cloud high above spitting quartz & splitting mirrors, declares these are rainbow times, & I have to tell you, I love all the colours, I want all the colours. World, let me bathe in your prisms & drink your light. This marbled soil, this striated sky. I’d be no one & nowhere without.

 Internal Monologue of an Anthropologist in Paris

i.

My mother said if I fail on my new adventure I can live in her closet.

My French roommate has shit in my bed after having a midlife crisis at 29.

On television I look like an idiot. Even smart, floral blazers from the 10th Arrondissement make me look like a cartoon character because I’m very small.

They want to hire me as a curatorial fellow at the Musée du Quai Branly but then I have to stay here and oh, how I know the Parisians suffer.

Every Thursday there is a voracious vacuuming in the flat above me at 6am and I am suddenly murderous. I strike the ceiling with my broom and the ceiling strikes back.

ii.

My life is an Antonioni film. At the Sorbonne, I’m asked to describe my unwritten doctoral thesis in front of four medieval historians and a self-proclaimed spiritualist who spends most of his time at Père Lachaise by the grave of some important figure whose name I can’t remember. I whirl around in my seat and quip, “It is about nothing with precision.”

iii.

The community in Oaxaca wants me to ask the Mexican government to return the collection it stole but I’m merely an anthropologist, when did we ever hold power?

Margaret Mead was barely 5’0” and carried a walking stick taller than herself, which she’d use to intimidate men. That’s power.

I’m invited by the History Channel to appear on Ancient Aliens after my undergraduate advisor, a certain Mayanist, declines and thinks it would be hilarious to give them my personal email. “We will pay you $300,” they tell me. I think seriously about it.

Pseudoscience is absurd but my life is absurd. My next-door neighbour smokes cigarettes naked while his parrot shits on the patio. A colleague informs me they irrationally hate my surname.

“Would you like a career in anthropology?” my PhD advisor asks me after I tell him about the invite. This, coming from a man whose faculty headshot features him sacrificing a chicken.

Anthropologists don’t deserve careers, I think. But I sure enjoy all the grant and fellowship money, society’s conviction that we are worth something because “we are scientists.”

I don’t want a career, I conclude.

iv.

Over lunch in the EHESS cafeteria, my friend says everyone here complains too much and that the Parisians are insane and create their own chaos.

My brother texts me because my mother is in jail. She should stay there.

I go for coffee with an artist in Le Marais. The owner comes out to scream at all of us who dare to use their laptops and take up too much time – or space.

Claude Lévi-Strauss helped found UNESCO. Franz Boas died in his arms. Claude’s a structuralist and I despise structure. Will I die in the arms of anyone?

When Bronislaw Malinowski died, we all found out that he was a pervert. His field notebooks were festooned with scribbles of his interlocutor’s boobs.

“Anthropologists are very interesting, no?” asks the barista I’ve befriended at perhaps the most hipster café I could find.

I don’t know, are we?

Am I?

[artdecosupernova-writing]

Fictober ‘21 Prompt No. 1 — “I need you.”

Category: Original WIP: WASTE Rating: T Timeline: Not too long after Guetry has been implanted with Scotty CW: None Word Count: 1,162 Additional Notes: I love exploring the relationship between these two.

***

Guetry stared through the opening of the mine shaft, flat on his back across austere stone. His eyes were not focused on the night sky painted with diamonds and the rich purple of wines made in his vineyard, as it would have appeared to a bystander. His attention was, instead, zeroed in on the small hole in the visor of his helmet, currently sending the HUD into hysterics and draining him of air with each passing second.

"S…Scotty," he choked.

"You have twenty minutes before asphyxiation," Scotty said. Matter-of-fact, directly in his ear, as always. Even in the face of fatality. "I cannot seal the breach as my connection to your equipment has been severed."

Despite the situation, his cadence did somewhat have a soothing effect.

Guetry closed his eyes and reached up to assess the extent of the damage to the helmet. "What do I do?" he asked. His chest heaved under the breastplate of his armor as he attempted to steady his breath and not waste what little oxygen he could get. "What…what do I do? What button, what switch…?"

"I have no connection to your team." Scotty sputtered violet in the corner of Guetry's eye. "Other than the automatic distress signal that went out the instant your visor sustained damage."

"Shit…shit." Guetry rolled himself onto his side, scrambling for purchase on solid ground. "Twenty m—twenty minutes. Twenty minutes."

"There's been some trauma to your implant as well, as I'm certain you can discern for yourself."

Guetry's frantic gaze darted around the shaft, desperate for an escape or something to close the breach before he blacked out. "Scotty…please stop telling me things that are up—upsetting to me."

"The fall into the mine cracked the back of your helmet open. The damage is permanent."

"What the hell did I just say," Guetry wheezed. He yanked the helmet off his head with shaking hands and threw it farther into the mine.

"Are you in pain?"

"I don't know. I can't…I can't feel most of anything right now." Guetry took a few sharp breaths. "You gotta keep me going until someone gets here, or until I get out of here, whichever comes first."

"I'm not sure I follow."

Guetry tried to drag himself closer to the entrance, but his arms had already begun to fail him. "Scotty, I don't plan on dying today. Keep…keep my brain alive or something. Do literally anything."

"My designation doesn't work in that way. I cannot sustain you when there isn't sufficient oxygen." Scotty paused as Guetry gave up in the center of the opening and collapsed onto his stomach. "I also don't think I made myself clear. I'm unable to access life support."

Guetry went still. "Do something."

"Guetry—"

"I need you. Please."

Scotty once again fell silent. "I will attempt to contact your team again."

With strength he was surprised he had at the moment, Guetry pushed himself onto his back once more. "Hey, if I…" He broke out into a wheezing cough as his lungs strained to sap oxygen out of the air. "If I don't make it, send my sisters…and my dad a message."

"When I am tethered to you, the event of your death will activate a kill switch and I will be permanently deactivated."

Nodding, Guetry swallowed down the terror that shot through his veins like a lightning bolt. He opened the front pouch of his supply kit and withdrew a flare. "Tell my sisters and my dad that I love you."

"You love…them?"

Guetry ripped the packaging of the flare open with his teeth, the edges of his vision turning black. He took a couple of shallow breaths. "Yeah. We can pretend that's what I meant."

He raised the flare and fired it straight through the opening of the mine. A single flash of red light exploded upward, carried a bit by the gaseous wind of the planet's surface before disappearing into the sky.

"Think they saw it?" Guetry asked weakly, hand dropping onto his chest.

Scotty didn't answer.

Guetry's eyes grew heavy. "Don't…don't give up on me. Not now."

"I could say the same."

"Say it, then."

"Don't give up on me, Guetry."

Guetry watched a dark blur move over the mine entrance. The words echoed in his mind repeatedly until he was no longer conscious.

—

He awoke again in a bed, clocking before he even opened his eyes that he was in a med fac. He'd been in enough of them to pinpoint them by smell alone.

Dazia's tired face turned to him from her spot in the chair across the room. "Morning, sleepyhead."

"Oh, shit," Guetry groaned, bringing a ginger touch to his forehead as a headache slammed into him with the force of a meteor.

"Good to see you, too, jackass."

"Did you pull me out of that mine?" Guetry peeked at her through his fingers, avoiding the harsh light.

Dazia nodded. "Yep. Your little stunt sent Tux into a panic spiral so I had to pick up the slack."

"It did not," the nuaclan said from the other side of the room.

Guetry laughed even though it hurt his throat. "The only thing that would send Tux into a panic spiral is if someone took so long to get rid of my body that it implicated her." He turned to look at her with a grin. "Ain't that right, baby girl?"

Tux rolled her eyes, but the smirk stretching across her wide face said enough. "Idiot."

"They had to take Scotty for a bit," Dazia said. "It won't be for much longer. NodeSource fixed your implant—they're just running diagnostics to make sure everything's square."

"Okay. That explains the migraine." Guetry nodded, a hand coming up to his temple on instinct. His fingers knocked into the cable leading out of his port and into a terminal next to his bed, likely operating to take over a fraction of what Scotty maintained. "He deserves a wellness check."

When they were united later, after his doctor and a NodeSource technician made sure everything functioned normally and after Guetry had started a game of solitaire on his bed, he sighed into the empty room, eyes following the cable attaching him to the computer.

"Is everything alright?" Scotty asked.

"Yeah, man." Guetry sniffed. He turned a card over. "Just…hope you don't make a habit out of scaring me."

He detected a hint of hesitation. "I won't."

"…I guess I owe you an apology, too."

"Not for doing your job, you don't."

Guetry cracked a small smile. "I could say the same."

"Then say so."

He glanced through the two-way viewscreen affording him a look out into the hospital corridor while granting him privacy. Doctors, nurses, and patients milled about, some in more of a hurry than others.

"I'll do my best not to worry you too much," he finally said.

"Worry is not within my programming."

"Nah." Guetry's smile widened. "Don't buy it."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while.