Forlorn

Nothing was going right. Loki cursed under his breath as he fixed his shirt for the third time. His date with Darcy - the beautiful and wonderful Darcy - was in five minutes and it seemed like all of his shirts had decided to become rumpled. The bouquet of flowers he’d picked out for her, fresh and lovely just an hour ago, lay on his dresser looking forlorn. He frowned. He was already nervous, he didn’t need all of this.

But there was no more time to fix everything. He grabbed the bouquet and rushed out, thanking the stars she only lived one apartment over. When he knocked on her door, she answered it right away. “Hello, Loki,” she said, smiling.

He momentarily forgot how to speak and pushed the bouquet towards her. “Um, for you,” he mumbled. Her smile brightened as she took the bouquet. Loki raised his eyebrows as the flowers that had been wilting a second ago brightened as well.

“Flowers! Thank you. I haven’t had a date bring me these in a long while,” she said. “Well, uh, I…I own a flower shop,” he finished lamely, mentally kicking himself. But then she laughed, and it was such a sweet sound that he found himself relaxing and smiling back at her.

And that was when the lights in the city went out.

In the darkness, he felt her hand searching for his, her fingers sliding gently into the spaces between his own. “Did the power go out?” she asked. He peered into the distance across the darkened city. “I think so,” he replied, holding her hand a little tighter. “It’s not just this building. Oh, this is no good. The power at the restaurant will be out too.”

“Then let’s not go there,” she said. “No?” he asked, puzzled. “Let’s stay here,” she continued. “It’s a lovely night with a full moon out, and you’ve already got a table and chairs in front of your shop downstairs. We could get hot dogs from Old Sam down the street, and I’ve got a bottle of wine just sitting on my table waiting to be shared.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” he said, squeezing her hand gently. After she returned from her apartment with the wine and glasses, they made their way downstairs to the front of his shop. While he got the food, she set the table. When he returned, he disappeared into his shop for a second, and Darcy watched in amazement as a soft light started to glow from the flowers on display. 

“Did you light candles?” she asked, grinning. “Something like that,” he replied with a blush.

She handed him one of the empty glasses, which filled up with wine as he held it. They clinked glasses and enjoyed their unusual meal in the gentle moonlight. A calm, cooling breeze started to blow, finding its way through the street.

As more of the townspeople came out onto the sidewalk to enjoy the night, a song played on a kid’s portable radio drifted to their ears.

In the darkest night hour
I’ll search through the crowd
Your face is all that I see
I’ll give you everything
Baby, love me lights out

It may not have been the date he planned exactly, but as they leaned across the table to kiss, he realised that it was nothing short of magical.

Written for the Tasertricks Prompt Challenge. Apologies for being so late! I had so many artistic potato moments that I almost gave up on this one. Shoutout to pastatheory for keeping me going. Also shoutout to everyone who played a part in making this event a reality!

This is a continuation of sorts of my Flowershop tag fic, and also inspired by Kings episode 8 The Sabbath Queen. The song is XO by Beyoncé. Click on the picture for better quality.

Hestia

So here for our perusal, the thoughts of a certain Mlle. Gillenormand at seven moments in her life. Revived for the MajorlyMinor characters week

Hestia and Her Kindred

I

Her story, or rather lack of one, all began at her mother’s deathbed. Even in later years she could still see the room in its sharpest detail: her mother lying pale and too still in bed, the doctors arguing among themselves in a corner, and her little sister squalling in the arms of the nursemaid. The only person absent of course had been their father. She had not even bothered changing out of her stiff boarding school dress, but as soon as she had set down her belongings she rushed to her mother’s bedside and clasped her hand. “Maman? Maman, I’m here!” she had shouted.

Madame Gillenormand could only open her eyes for a second. Those once lustrous hazel orbs were now dull, made even more forlorn by her limp dark hair dragging about her face. “Celeste?”

“It’s me. I’m home,” she said. She loved it when her mother used her pet name ‘Celeste’, which always sounded so much better than her given name ‘Celestine’. “Maman, you’ll be better now—“

Madame Gillenormand shook her head tiredly as she let go of her eldest child’s hand. “You be a good girl, Celeste. Be a good girl for your sister.”

“But Maman—“ Celestine protested, only a moment before the doctors returned to the bed. “Is she dying? What are you going to do her?”

“We have to try another medicine. Run along, Mademoiselle Gillenormand,” the most stooped and frightful looking of the physicians had said.

Celestine looked around and saw that her sister and the nurse were now gone. The reek of physic hit her nose, forcing her to bolt out of the room. She ran through the house, past their father’s study where she could hear him having a chat with another nice woman who’d come to their home the day before, past guest rooms being emptied for the inevitable arrival of mourners, and all the way up to the quiet nursery in the topmost floor.

Their nurse was already asleep, having had only enough strength to put the younger Gillenormand girl in the cradle before dozing off in a chair. Celestine had to wipe her eyes before going to the cradle to see her sister. “You’re too little to know anything, Lucille,” she whispered when she saw the little girl staring back at her with a bewildered expression. She figured that she and Lucille were lucky; she’d known their mother for twelve years and Lucille for just two, but other children knew nothing of their parents at all. That did not make the situation any easier though.

Celestine sighed when she saw Lucille whimper and begin to fuss. Before she could scoop up her sister, the nursemaid stirred. “Mademoiselle Gillenormand, what are you doing?” the woman asked sharply.

“Only trying to help,” Celestine replied as she backed off from the cradle.

The nursemaid huffed and went to pick up Lucille. “Go somewhere else. Read your lessons.”

“Maman is dying.”

“Then go pray for her. Say your beads. They taught you at the convent, didn’t they?”

“Yes, Madame,” Celestine whispered before running off to her own room. She quickly unpacked her trunk and found her purple glass rosary at the bottom of everything, nearly squashed between a pair of stays. She snatched up the beads and clutched them to her chest, knowing better than to trust in human hands to hold.

Keep reading

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Chateau Clochard - The interior of this grand chateau actually no longer exists as it was destroyed by a fire in 2012. all that remains now is the grand facade. Originally built in the 1400’s a fire has been the demise of the home on 3 different occasions.

See the full history —> http://www.abandonedplaygrounds.com/the-abandoned-chateau-clochard-now-only-ruins-after-a-fire-in-2012/

Forlorn (a song I wrote, shit but oh well)

I’m sorry, I’m not always around

I guess its fate

Us to be forlorn

Heartsickness wrote

With all this time

Remotely lost from the next of kin

Think of mind, disaster

Solitary isolation

Memories never to be misplaced

Existence chased by death

Running with no burdens

Callous creature

Runs free to be apprehended, apprehended

Reckless love

Will not be futile

Evolution enceinted

Never forget,

Never forget,

Never forget

Reckless love

Will not be futile

Evolution enceinted

Never forget,

Never forget,

Never forget

With all this time

Remotely lost from the next of kin

Think of mind, disaster

Solitary isolation

Memories never to be misplaced

Existence chased by death

Running with no burdens

Callous creature

Runs free to be apprehended, apprehended

I’m sorry, I’m not always around

I guess its fate

Us to be forlorn

Heartsickness wrote