#*❈ ‣ if we lay a strong enough foundation‚ we’ll pass it on to you. we’ll give the world to you. — ( v: single mother. )

[cannotflyarc]

@heygutlcss's raefer mcclellan sent: ❝ i like you here like this. ...in my bed. ❞

when he joined her in bed these past few weeks, it hasn't been the same. ( and johanna realizes how joined her in bed sounds even when it was just to fall asleep next to each other. truly. ) ever since the beach, she kept waiting for him. waiting for a sign that would hopefully be as clear as the light in the lighthouse since she could be awfully blind with such matters. waiting for the word. waiting for something as simple as a touch. and it never came. she knew he wanted this just as much as she did. as she washed away all the salt and the sand from that night on the beach, johanna couldn't help the giddy smile and excited butterflies in her stomach. they wanted each other . . . when was he going to finally --- ?

she liked the beach. she liked the sound of the waves in the background. she liked the smell of the salt and the way he touched her. they clung to each other and she smiled at his questions and tried not to mind when her cheeks turned pink when she asked hers.

gaze is fixated on the little mark left on her thigh. her thumb runs over it now. johanna had been caught in the moment. she hadn't thought about propriety and the reason behind . . . she'd enjoyed herself. she was happy.

❝ i'm usually in your bed. ❞ she doesn't move to look at him. there's the pink mark on her thigh. it's almost as if she's surprised it doesn't disappear when she traces a finger across it. last night had been real. after her wedding night with anthony, all of that happened. johanna hadn't meant to scare him. she hadn't meant for riff to find out about any of it. is she going to cry like last time? her other hand rises to wipe at her eyes before any tears could fall. she can't ruin this.

teeth sink into her lower lip. johanna knows what he means, of course, there isn't anything like being in his bed after last night ( which, technically, happened just this morning. ) ❝ are you . . . alright with it? are you alright? i didn't hurt you, did i? if i hurt you, we don't have to do anything like that ever again. i'm sorry. i should have . . . been better. should i leave? ❞ finally, she looks up at him, searching for the anger or pain in his eyes. she's ruined it already, hasn't she? ❝ sorry. ❞

[cagesings]

@heygutlcss ( starter call. )

it's strange to think they were happy. only yesterday when she was holding her daughter's hand as they flew up the stairs to the lighthouse, they were smiling at each other. the little secret kept between them was not such a little secret with the way her dresses tightened and the occasional thread popping when she attempted to put one on in the morning. it was nothing she couldn't fix, though later that day, she found the old dresses she'd worn the last time she was in need of one. for the first time in her life, johanna had been looking at her side profile with a sense of pride. a little smile tugging at her lips as she grabbed at riff's hands to place them over. a frantic excitement over what might be a potential movement. a false alarm, but it painted a brilliant shine of hope in their faces. yesterday was better. yesterday they were happy.

yesterday johanna planned on telling laura she was going to be a big sister. today she can at least be thankful that she decided to postpone. she can't imagine how she would tell her daughter that she wasn't going to be a big sister after all.

fingertips are numb, in the same position as they were when the midwife left. crumpled on her lap. moments before, her nails were digging into her skin. a poor attempt distracting herself from the pain and hoping that this wasn't what she thought it was. perhaps, it was only her mind tricking her. when she was expecting laura, she had bizarre dreams that occasionally featured a loss. this was a dream, wasn't it? there couldn't be that much blood. but could a dream properly conjure up the feeling of wanting to throw up at the sight of blood and how numb she felt after finding out?

that was only a few minutes ago. despite the ringing in her ears, she can hear the door open. she can make out her own "come in," though johanna knows he doesn't knock on the door. besides, this room was technically riff's before her things slowly moved in. there's no reason for him to. gaze flickers to him. she would rather climb out of bed and make him sit down and keep him in her line of sight in case he got himself stuck somewhere. instead, johanna lifts a weak hand, beckoning him to come nearer to her. she would like to hold his hand. that always made her feel better before.

some of the numbness seems to fall away. her own mind betrays her, even knowing how difficult these words will be to form. the midwife said something about managing pain, but johanna didn't realize that it would hurt. how is she supposed to say it? there isn't a single syllable in the english language to describe . . . she doesn't know so she choices the simplest words she can,

❝ i lost our baby. ❞

[lizardtheacorn]

happy birthday :3

HAPPY THEODOSIA DAY 😇😇

[carewyncromwell]

“My father wasn’t around -- (My father wasn’t around) I swear that I’ll be around for you. I’ll do whatever it takes; I’ll make a million mistakes; I’ll make the world safe and sound for you... We’ll come of age with our young nation -- We’ll bleed and fight for you... We’ll make it right for you! If we lay a strong enough foundation, We’ll pass it on to you -- we'll give the world to you, And you'll blow us all away... Someday, someday...”

~“Dear Theodosia (cover)” by Regina Spektor and Ben Folds

x~x~x~x

partially inspired by a conversation with @dat-silvers-girl​​ // featuring a quick reference to Katriona Cassiopeia @kc-and-co​​ 💜

x~x~x~x

The summer of 1998 had felt warmer than it had in years. The warmth seemed to ripple from the outside in, given the immense relief that came with the death of Voldemort and with it the end of the Second Wizarding War. And even though yes, there was a lot of work still to do to restore balance to the world, right the wrongs committed during the War, and move forward toward a brighter future, everything still seemed to shine that touch brighter. 

Hope, it seems, can make even the most unremarkable rocks shine like diamonds.

It was in the summer, and right as Carewyn began what would be a long crusade to try and convict every ex-Death Eater for their crimes, that Carewyn received a letter from her old school friend and associate Orion Amari. He and his nearly two-year-old daughter Eos had recently returned to Montrose, Scotland, after being in hiding from the Death Eaters for several months. With the financial reimbursement he’d received from both the Ministry and the League as post-War damages, Orion had just managed to scrape together enough money to purchase a run-down old cottage in the woods outside of Montrose, which he was now working to fix up and obscure with the proper enchantments for himself and Eos to live in.

As much as I have never lamented living in a small one-room flat by myself, Orion’s letter explained, I realize that for a young child, such a place would lack stimulation and even less chance for freedom and exploration. Perhaps a home in such a quiet and green place, as opposed to the suburbs or in the country, could provide a sanctuary for Eos: one where she can experience many wonderful new things and experiment with her own magic away from prying eyes. And perhaps, on a more selfish note, being more physically removed from town could give me some cover from more overzealous members of the press, who I’ve only been able to keep at bay in the past by living alongside Muggles. 

Carewyn was touched by how much her old friend thought of his daughter’s happiness. She wished she’d had the freedom with her own job and income to consider moving into a larger space herself -- she loved her tiny flat in London, but recently she had had to make some layout changes, so as to give her new ward -- twelve-year-old Erik Apollo -- some space of his own. 

Mum came over to give me a hand with turning the hall closet into a second bedroom last week, Carewyn confided to Orion in a letter of her own at one point. She had to do the same thing for me when I was young, so she has plenty of experience with such magic -- but I was only a bit older than Eos, back then. Erik is set to start his first year at Hogwarts next month: he deserves some space of his own, and privacy at that, and he can’t have that in such a small room. Erik’s been referring to the new room as his��“shoebox” as a joke -- even if he’s said multiple times that its size isn’t a problem and I know he means it, I still hope I can find a safe way to expand his room a bit more before he comes home for the holidays. 

In September, Carewyn brought Erik to Platform Nine and Three Quarters to start his first year at school. Despite the sticky, unpleasant heat clinging to the air, the curly blond-haired boy was dressed in a black turtleneck and jeans -- Erik didn’t like the looks he got from passerby for the magical burn scars around his neck, which had been inflicted on him by Death Eater Thorfinn Rowle. 

“Do you have everything you need?” Carewyn asked him. “Your trunk? Your wallet?”

“Everything and everyone,” said Erik with a wry smile, indicating the black-and-white tuxedo cat yowling in his carrier at his side.

Carewyn offered her ward’s new familiar a pitying smile as she brought a hand up to the bars of his cage, petting the top of his head with a single finger.

“Aww...it’s all right,” she said gently. “Erik can take you out on the train.”

“Only if he agrees not to claw anybody,” Erik said dryly. When the cat yowled unhappily again, he added, “Sorry, Han Solo, I don’t have enough to pay off the train conductor if you cause any permanent damage.”

Carewyn laughed softly behind her hand, which made Erik’s light blue eyes sparkle with that bit more satisfaction. 

“I’d best be off,” said Erik stridently. “Train’s leaving in ten.”

Carewyn nodded in agreement. She brought a hand onto his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. 

“Send me an owl if you need anything,” she said seriously. “There’ll be plenty of owls in the owlery you can use to send me a letter...and even if you end up in Hufflepuff or Slytherin, there are collection trays where post can be delivered down to you, outside of mealtimes.”

Erik nodded. “Thanks, Ms. Cromwell.”

Carewyn gave him a brave smile. Then, opening her arms, she encircled the small boy in a full, warm hug -- Erik, even despite the straightness of his posture, accepted her hold and even gave her a light squeeze before releasing her and dashing up to the open train door, hoisting his trunk up after him. Then, with one last wave, he retreated into the train car to get settled for the trip to school. 

It was a strange, bereft kind of feeling, watching the train with Erik on board pull out of the station and out of sight. Even if the boy truly was only twelve years younger than her and was of an age more like a younger sibling than a child, Carewyn couldn’t help but wonder if her own mother felt like this, watching Jacob and her leave for school all those years ago.

Later that September, Carewyn received another letter from Orion. This one’s contents, however, surprised Carewyn more than any of the others they’d exchanged.

Carewyn,

I realize that for someone as enamored with plans and order as you, this request will be very abrupt -- but would you be able to visit Eos and me here in Scotland at all tomorrow evening? Any time around sunset would be suitable.

Please do not hesitate in your response. Even if it must be no, I will simply be happy to receive a letter from you so quickly.

Orion

Carewyn read the letter several times in slight confusion. The request was definitely a bit out of left field. Orion had come to see her several times, both as she helped him secure legal custody of Eos and when he came to the Ministry as a representative for the Quidditch League. Carewyn had even let Orion sleep on her couch overnight without planning ahead, simply because he had to report back to the Ministry right away the next morning. But Orion hadn’t ever asked her to come to his place before -- if nothing else, it was still very newly “his place,” as it was. Him suddenly inviting her over without explaining why...it signaled that his reason had to be important...

Carewyn’s eyes lingered on the last line as she took out some parchment and wrote out a quick response of her own.

Orion,

I should be able to finish up with my casework by 8:00. I could Floo from my office right over to you, if you’d like.

Let me know,

Carewyn

The Ministry lawyer folded the short note into thirds, closed it with a seal, and held it out to the owl so it could snatch it up in its beak and fly off, back out of her office and out of sight down the hall.

Orion’s response came mere hours later. It was even shorter, and its flowing, yet messy penmanship -- typical to Orion -- was a bit more slanted, as if it had been written very quickly.

8:00 is a lovely time to look forward to. While making your trip, simply ask to be brought to “Dawn’s Haven.”

Until tomorrow,

Orion

The following night Carewyn didn’t even bother changing out of the dress robes she was wearing into her spare Muggle clothes, as she did whenever she walked home from work. She instead headed straight for the closest Ministry fireplace, tossing some of the spare powder into the grate at her feet before clearly declaring Orion’s directions:

“Dawn’s Haven!”

The emerald green flames flared up around her, encompassing her vision as she was hurtled through space. About twenty seconds later, she found herself reaching another much less polished grate, out of which she exited. When she did, she had to brush aside a strange curtain of hanging green and violet beads just to climb up and out of the grate.

When Carewyn looked up and around, she found herself in a very small, but quaint little cottage. The walls were all made of stained oak and it was decorated eclectically, with a stylized sunflower-printed rug, several mandala floor pillows, a footstool shaped like a turtle, a tiered indoor water fountain, and hanging plants and Arabian-style glass lanterns attached to the beams overhead. There was even a star chart, enchanted with glowing stars and constellations, carved into the ceiling. The lighting was very dim, and yet as warm and colorful as sunlight through a stained glass window. The whole place also smelled of soothing incense -- lavender and sandalwood.

And standing right in front of Carewyn to meet her was Orion himself. He immediately took her hands and helped her straighten up, since she’d bent down to brush the soot from her robes.

“Carewyn,” he said. “How good it is to see you.”

The size and brightness of his smile startled Carewyn. She didn’t think she’d seen him look so happy since she’d agreed to rejoin his Quidditch team back in her sixth year.

“...It’s good to see you too,” she said, still slightly stunned.

She glanced around for Eos. She found the newly-two-year-old girl sitting on her knees at the window across the room, biting her lower lip as she smiled broadly at Carewyn too.

“Your shoulders appear very tense,” said Orion.

Carewyn glanced back awkwardly toward the small stone fireplace she’d just walked through. “Well, from your letter, I’d thought maybe something was wrong, but...”

She brought a hand through her ginger bangs, feeling a bit chagrined.

Orion’s expression softened.

“I see,” he said, his face becoming a bit sheepish despite himself. “Forgive me, Carewyn. It seems in my eagerness, I neglected to reassure you that this was merely a social visit, rather than a fire you had to put out...”

“I didn’t think that,” Carewyn said very quickly, “I just -- well, I just assumed that you had something serious on your mind -- that you needed my input on something...like about your custody of Eos, or the Quidditch League, or...”

“Carewyn.”

Carewyn paused when Orion gave the hand of hers he was still holding a light squeeze. She looked up, just as Orion quickly released her hand, bringing his hand up through his own unevenly cut hair to brush it out of his face.

“I realize you’re trying to reassure me,” he said, sounding rather self-effacing, “but...it’s not comforting, to know I have left you thinking that I would only ever summon you here to ask for your help. And for that, I am sorry.”

Guilt flooded through Carewyn. “No! I don’t think that! It’s just...well, everyone’s needed more help, these days. I’ve had to help a lot of people lately...”

“Me included,” said Orion with a small, sad smile.

“It’s nothing I’ve done unwillingly,” Carewyn said fiercely. “I like helping people, Orion -- it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, to help those people I care about...those people who need my help.”

She couldn’t look him in the eye, so she settled for his shoulder instead.

“...I’ve liked helping you,” she murmured. “You and Eos. Seeing you with her...hearing about what you want for her future...I want to help you achieve that happiness, for her.”

Orion’s black eyes seemed to gleam with a strange, almost deeper glint. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could conjure up any response --

“Caywhen!”

Both Orion and Carewyn straightened up abruptly, and then immediately looked down. Eos had uneasily climbed down from the window ledge and toddled over across the room over to them -- and in that moment, the tiny girl flung out her arms and grabbed onto Carewyn’s right leg through her robes.

Carewyn stared, open-mouthed, from Eos to Orion, who looked just as surprised as she was.

“Did...did she just say my...?”

Eos’s black eyes, identical in color to her father’s, were shining like gems as she pointed urgently up at the window behind her with her pudgy little finger.

“Caywhen!” the little girl said again.

She gave a tug to Carewyn’s leg.

Still faintly stunned, Carewyn let the little girl lead her over to the window. Eos tried to hoist herself up onto the windowsill -- Carewyn helped her climb up, and Eos tapped the glass meaningfully.

Carewyn looked out, to see nothing but darkness. Through the glass, however, she could barely make out a strange sound -- an ethereal sound, echoing through the night...

Almost like music...

Moving the beaded curtain aside to reach the window latch, Carewyn undid it and opened the window so as to better hear.

Sure enough, it was music -- a beautiful, melodic, haunting song, played by instruments she almost thought she recognized: something like a harp, as well as something like a lute...

Carewyn was left mesmerized, just leaning over the window ledge with Eos and listening. The little girl was entranced, her mouth slightly open and her wide black eyes drifting around the window and over the dark woods. She’d clearly never heard anything like it before and could do nothing but just drink it in.

Orion was so quiet that Carewyn didn’t even realize he’d come up alongside her to stand over Eos until his muscular arm brushed up beside hers. When Carewyn looked up, his black eyes were locked on her face and his lips were spread in a gentle smile.

“It’s a turning of the seasons,” he said softly. “From what the previous tenant told me when I bought this house, the selkies that live near the shore like to mark the equinoxes. And now that autumn has officially begun in the eyes of the stars...so have the selkies returned to shore, to play music through the night in celebration.”

Carewyn’s eyes widened.

“Then...then this is why you invited me,” she said in understanding. “So I could hear the selkies’ music?”

Orion’s eyes trailed over Carewyn’s face with something fonder. “Of course. I knew if there was anyone on this Earth who would appreciate it, it would be you, Carewyn Cromwell.”

Carewyn felt her cheeks warm with a happy blush, unable to hold in how very touched she was by this.

“Caywhen?”

Carewyn looked down at Eos. The little girl had taken hold of her sleeve and given it a light tug as she looked back out the window. Carewyn could sense both awe and curiosity coming off Orion’s daughter through the eye contact they’d made, and it made her bright red lips spread into a smile.

“Those are selkies, Eos,” she said gently. “They’re playing music.”

Eos was listening to Carewyn with rapt attention, even as the two looked back out the open window.

“They sound pretty, don’t they?” said Carewyn.

Eos smiled and nodded, settling herself down on the sill on her stomach and resting her face in both hands so she could lean a bit out the window and listen.

Carewyn smiled fondly down at the little girl, looking back over her shoulder at Orion. Waves of undiluted pride and warmth rippled off of the Montrose Magpie as he gazed down at his daughter. When his eyes flitted up to Carewyn, that warmth seemed to settle slightly as he tried to compose himself, but it still seemed to flood out of Orion’s eyes, accompanied by flickers of memory -- cradling a newborn until she stopped crying -- covering her eyes to tell her to be quiet as they hid together in the shadows --

“Eos listens far more than she speaks,” Orion said very softly.

Carewyn smiled slightly. “Like her father?”

Orion smiled too, but only briefly. “Yes...but not for the same reason. She learned how to be silent at such a young age that, now, I fear she may be more comfortable being silent than in expressing herself openly. She does not mimic sounds others make. She does not experiment with forming words, as other children I’ve seen do. She doesn’t speak much at all, aside from very specific words. ‘Here.’ ‘No.’ ‘Help.’ ‘Dad.’”

Something strange flickered over Orion’s face -- was that shyness?

“...Even...other people’s names are quite rare. Just the ones she’s heard me say before, with some frequency. ‘Skye’ -- ‘Nully’ -- ‘KC’ -- ‘Wath’ -- ”

“And ‘Caywhen,’” Carewyn finished, unable to keep herself from smiling. She even felt her cheeks warming with a charmed blush.

Orion’s face seemed to flush a bit too despite himself. “Apparently so.”

Carewyn tilted her head at him in confusion.

“I was just as surprised to hear your name emerge from Eos’s mouth as you were,” Orion admitted, smiling through the flush in his cheeks. “...I suppose I didn’t realize just how often I’ve spoken of you, as of late...”

Carewyn smiled a bit more kindly. “Hmm...well, we have spent a lot of time together, these last few months.”

She reached out and gently took his hand.

“I’m glad I’ve been able to see you again,” she said, “instead of just writing letters. Even if the circumstances haven’t been exactly ideal.”

“...Indeed.”

Orion’s gaze drifted down at their hands. His thumb lightly slid along the back of her hand as he secured his hold.

“It’s...been a blessing, to reconnect with you after so long, Carewyn,” he said softly. “To...spend time with you like this...without any threat looming over us...nor any mantle of heroism thrust upon you.”

His eyes gained something a bit more solemn as he met her gaze. She could sense something soothing coming off of him -- something akin to a hand over hers, lowering her wand for her...

“As much as you have helped Eos and me...and as grateful as I shall always be for that,” Orion said softly, “I want you to know...that my wish to see you can be just about want, and not always about need. And that even when it is the second...you can always say no, with no regrets.”

Carewyn stared at Orion for a moment, a bit taken aback. She could practically see him as a young man again, asking her multiple times to rejoin his Quidditch team, only for Carewyn to have to regretfully decline the invitation, in the face of her pursuing the Cursed Vaults and saving Jacob.

The memory made Carewyn’s lips curl up in a bittersweet smile as she glanced away.

“...Thank you. But honestly...I’m just glad that I’m in the position now that I don’t have to say no.”

At Eos shifting slightly, Carewyn looked down, to see the little girl adjusting underneath her and Orion so that she was more comfortably nestled between them. His black eyes softening fondly, Orion extended his hand not holding Carewyn’s and rested it beside his daughter, creating an almost canopy over her as he rested his chin lightly on top of her head and looked out the window. Carewyn watched the father and daughter with fondness before she too looked back out the window, listening to the sounds of the selkies’ mystical, celebratory melodies echoing through the trees.

The three sat there by the window for a long while. As the night wore on, the music evolved and changed. Soon it’d gotten late enough that Eos was getting restless, so the three shifted over to the living space. Orion brewed himself and Carewyn some lavender tea and Eos some hot water and lemon, while Eos sat in the papasan chair with Carewyn and she told Eos about the different musical instruments she could pick out in the selkies’ music.

“You hear that high, clear, echoing sound? Ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh. That’s something glass -- like a glass armonica.”

Eos smiled whenever Carewyn sang along with the selkies’ playing. The sight made Orion’s eyes sparkle with warmth as he came back over with two mugs of tea and one of hot water and lemon.

“Come get your narwhal, Eos,” he said amusedly.

This statement made more sense when he held up Eos’s mug, which was shaped like a ceramic blue narwhal.

Eos bounced right out of her spot next to Carewyn so she could take her mug from her father. She then toddled over to the pile of pillows on the floor, where she plopped herself down on her stomach, pointedly blew on the hot water three times, and took a long sip from her mug.

Orion walked over to Carewyn and held out two mugs of tea with a wry smile -- one white with a black octopus printed on it and the other black printed with the white words “I’d Rather Be Playing Quidditch” on it. With a laugh, Carewyn reached out and took the one decorated with the octopus.

“Was that other one a present?” she asked.

Orion grinned. “They both were. From McNully and Skye, respectively."

“And the narwhal?” asked Carewyn.

“Adopted by Eos -- paid for by KC,” Orion said with a grin.

Carewyn covered her mouth as she laughed. “I was thinking of ‘adopting’ a mug for Erik too, at some point.”

“Does he also enjoy tea?”

“Not so much -- but I thought some hot chocolate or butterbeer would be appropriate around Christmas.”

“A reasonable thought. Hot apple cider could also be a nice alternative.”

Taking a sip of the lavender tea from the black mug, the Chaser settled himself down next to his daughter on the pillows. Eos snuggled up beside her father, and Carewyn smiled seeing how gently Orion’s black eyes shined as he lightly ruffled her bangs with one hand.

“Orion?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for this,” Carewyn said softly. “All of this...the tea, the company, but also...well, the music. It’s just...”

She shifted herself in the chair, her hands holding the mug of tea in her lap as she looked back over toward the window wistfully.

“...It’s so beautiful,” she murmured.

After such a long War, full of fear and fighting and work and worrying -- after focusing solely on helping as many people as she could, with what little power she had to try to make things right...sitting in a comfortable, lavender-and-sandlewood-scented cottage, listening to selkies celebrate the season through song, was medicinal to Carewyn’s spirit in a way she couldn’t put into words.

Orion was quiet for a very, very long moment as he watched Carewyn. At one point, he even caught his little daughter biting her lip as she grinned up at him and Carewyn, and he quickly averted his gaze, trying to bite back a self-conscious smile of his own.

“...You’re welcome.”

Always, he never said aloud, but he hoped dearly would still come across. You will always be welcome, here. ...Always...

[mthguy]

“Dear Theodosia” from Hamilton performed by Leslie Odom, Jr. and Lin-Manuel Miranda from the Original Broadway Cast (2016)

“I’ll make the world safe and sound for you… …will come of age with our young nation We’ll bleed and fight for you, we’ll make it right for you If we lay a strong enough foundation We’ll pass it on to you, we’ll give the world to you And you’ll blow us all away... Someday, someday Yeah, you’ll blow us all away Someday, someday.”

[leoisstillalive]

i got a scrambly brain because i woke up at 5.30 am but sebastian and michael are aaron burr singing dear theodosia from hamilton and mick is theodosia. that’s all, g’day.

[cannotflyarc]

a part of her is tempted to take the offer to eat alone. even eating in front of anthony was difficult some nights. but it's been years. she should be over that by now ( wasn't she just thinking about how little she's eaten these last few days? . . .she didn't mean to. . . ) besides, it was more than gracious that mr. cauthon took the time and money to get her something to eat. johanna used to think that there was no one in the world as kind as anthony. most of her experiences have taught her that there wasn't anyone like him, but not everyone is out to get here. all these years later, she's still relearning that truth. there are good people and there are bad. mat cauthon is one of the good ones.

❝ no, no, i've got three chairs at the table. ❞ one for her, one for laura when she's older. one for anthony. just in case he still wanted to join her from above. ❝ please, make yourself comfortable. i can get everything ready. ❞ the last of her words are thrown over her shoulder at him as she wanders into the kitchen to fetch the necessaries. ❝ laura is still asleep. for now. she's been sleeping through the night, but i don't want to get too excited that we've reached that point. not yet. ❞ she's been sleeping through the night for months. it's johanna whose on edge. she sets plates down and organizes napkins and utilises as if they're preparing for a fine meal. ❝ what did you get? ❞

she allows him inside. he always finds himself looking around the place. it's a small neat place. it actually looks like a real home. even if there's something that's a little hollow all over the place. like there was a sadness inside of her that couldn't get shaken out? sometimes she looks a little lonely, sometimes he wonders if she really is, if she wants to be. he pauses to look at her, his eyes moving over her small face. then he lowers his gaze to the food.

she's so bloody grateful. and he's not even sure how to respond. he feels a bit of a heat at the back of his neck. and he considers just walking off right then. if she was going to get so bloody mushy about the whole thing. but he shakes the thought. this whole thing felt - well, a little fragile and he wasn't sure why. it's not exactly that he wants to stay. he had spent good money on that food. he had - well, light, she did look lonely, didn't she? "i've got a bit of everything." he says, reaching into one of the bags. he pauses, looks at her briefly before looking at the box in his hands. "unless you'd rather eat alone. there's enough here to last for days. either way."

[cannotflyarc]

@heygutlcss's raefer mcclellan sent: dip, sender skinny dips in front of receiver and invites them to join. 

the other side of the bed felt lonely. when she spread her fingers out, the mattress underneath was cold. it's been awhile since she's slept alone. back when anthony still went on the little fishing trips, after what happened, she would curl up on the ground next to laura's cradle. johanna doesn't do well when there's no one next to her. perhaps, that is why she gets out of bed and pulls on enough layers to preserve her modesty before meeting him in the lighthouse. maybe he picked up on the fact that she didn't want to be alone. maybe that was how they ended up laughing and exchanging stories as riff worked. maybe that was how they ended up wandering down to the beach when he was finished.

a finger drags along in the sand, lips muttering on about something unimportant, and she doesn't realize that riff isn't beside her anymore. how on earth he got up without her help, she doesn't know ( or the feeling of his hand on her shoulder is so familiar at this point that she doesn't realize it's there ). when she finally realizes that she doesn't feel him next to her anymore, she glances over at the shoreline.

❝ . . . and that's why i named that bird . . . ❞

oh.

even the limited lighting from the moon and lighthouse couldn't hide that.

oh. oh. oh.

eyes seem to be about as wide as that moon in the sky above them. oh, dear. oh, goodness. oh, good heaven above. johanna blinks. she can't believe for a second, that he actually . . . just . . . right there. in front of her.

both hands practically slap her face as she lunges to cover her eyes. despite how relaxed she may have gotten, far away from london and its society papers and levels of propriety, johanna is still a lady. though, there is the nagging thought in the back of her head: they are married.

perhaps, that was the thought on riff's mind at his invitation.

❝ what? ❞ she chokes out. she clears her throat. he can't be serious. her? he would like to . . . with her? just get in the water in that state and then what? float in it? there isn't really a point in this certain activity in the first place. it's all very silly. the way her cheeks are burning up is very silly. the fact that he is . . . her husband is . . . in this state is . . . ❝ i can't swim! ❞ though, dipping her toes in the water wouldn't be awful. ( the butterflies in her stomach slap with an added intensity at the thought of getting closer to him -- why is it that she doesn't hate that thought? ) ❝ i couldn't! ❞ curling her knees up to her chest, she lays her forehead down to avoid looking over at him as she unties her shoes. ❝ someone might see you like that! ❞

[cagesings]

@soldwrecked ( starter call. )

her heart carries more pity for mr. beliayev than it does for any of the stories the people down in town tell her. it all seems so silly compared to this. the people in town gossip about their little living arrangement. of the reason mr. hope's best friend doesn't come with the couple into the chapel. or the strange flightiness of mrs. hope. though, nearly everyone has a tale of mr. hope's kindness. johanna never expected anyone to be closer to them than the people in town, much less residing with them. for that single reason mr. beliayev deserves all of the pity in her chest. a mention in every prayer she says, kneeling at her bedside.

❝ my apologies again for these rather unfortunate circumstances, sir. ❞ her way of saying, "i'm very sorry mr. mcclellan torments you, he's mean to me too; now we can relate." johanna glances out the window. perhaps, anthony is up there explaining to riff why he can't just take someone's letters our of their hands. it's rude and even more so when he goes up to johanna, demanding that she read it out loud to him. she gives a pained smile to their guest. ❝ anthony is absolutely wonderful as i'm sure you've gathered. if it weren't for him . . . ❞ she wouldn't be here. ❝ i don't think mr. mcclellan ever apologies for what he does, but i'm incredibly sorry on his behalf. i shouldn't have read your letter at all. he just -- ❞ a deep breath to prevent herself from saying anything too derogatory about her husband's best friend ❝ -- i know it doesn't mean anything coming from me, but i am deeply apologetic about everything he does to you. he'll be a shining example to our child. ❞

[perfectdisastcr]

poor dad. i mean, this is gonna be so hard on him. @magicalmystery-muses from Theodosia to Alexander pls

“If there’s anything I know about your father, it’s that he’s relentless, easily one of the most insufferable people I know, but still, tireless. He’ll get through this, just as he’s gotten through the rest of his life.” Alexander knew all too well that thy had both shared their trials and tribulations, and now, at the peak of it all, it seemed to be resting on a precipice, eager to go either way. “Aaron Burr may not know what he stands for, but that makes him all the more resilient.”

@magicalmystery-muses | theodosia & alexander

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

you will come of age with our young nation

we’ll bleed and fight for you

we’ll make it right for you

if we lay a strong enough foundation,

we’ll pass it onto you

we’ll give the world to you

and you’ll blow us all away

someday, someday.

[griffintail]

My dearest daughter, I know you like Hamilton so I know you heard the song dear Theodosia and I can't help but think about Wilbur singing that to fundy and the reader. It hasn't left my mind since a week. So I wanted to know your opinion on that?

Dear Theodosia

Pairings: Parental! Wilbur x F! Reader

Warnings: None :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on now my beautiful little star,” Wilbur whispered as he gently bounced the girl as he walked around her nursey. “You need to sleep.”

The little girl just babbled though and Wilbur sighed quietly with a smile.

“You’re very greedy for lullabies, aren’t you? Alright, you win. I’ll sing for you.” He sat down in the chair he had in the room for himself. “What song should we sing tonight?”

There were obviously classics but Wilbur was better than that. He had his own songs and of course, he liked singing songs that wouldn’t usually be sung to children. Humming quietly, his face broke into a grin.

“I have the perfect song. Here we go little star.”

He cleared his throat lightly before singing softly.

“Dear Theodosia, what to say to you? You have my eyes; you have your mother's name. When you came into the world, you cried. And it broke my heart.”

He remembered the first time she had cried. She had been so quiet when he first found her, trying to rapidly dry her and warm her up, she didn’t have the energy to cry about her situation. Then when she cried for the first time, he had felt a pang of panic as he held tightly. He promised himself when she got older, she’d never cry.

“I'm dedicating every day to you. Domestic life was never quite my style. When you smile, you knock me out, I fall apart. And I thought I was so smart.”

That line had never felt so true to Wilbur. He had been ready to rebel and start a war, yet here he was in the middle of the war at home with his son and daughter.

“You will come of age with our young nation. We'll bleed and fight for you. We'll make it right for you. If we lay a strong enough foundation. We'll pass it on to you, we'll give the world to you. And you'll blow us all away. Someday, someday. Yeah, you'll blow us all away. Someday, someday.”

It was rather surreal to think about (Y/N) coming to age with L’Manberg that was forming around her, but he’d make sure he’d make a strong and powerful nation to keep her safe and give her all the freedom she deserved.

He smiled down at her as he saw she was asleep. Placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, he laid her down in her crib.

“Good night Theodosia.” He chuckled before leaving and closing the nursery door behind him.

He walked towards his room but paused as he looked into Fundy’s room to see the teenager just flopped on his bed and sleeping. Wilbur shook his head fondly before going in and carefully adjusting him in a comfortable position. After, he went back for the door but stopped once more as he looked back and leaned on the door frame.

“Oh Philip, when you smile, I am undone. My son, look at my son. Pride is not the word I'm looking for. There is so much more inside me now. Oh, Philip, you outshine the morning sun. My son. When you smile, I fall apart. And I thought I was so smart.”

Wilbur sang quietly as he watched Fundy sleep.

He was very proud of his son and he loved him so much. He smiled before leaving Fundy’s room and Fundy’s tail twitched as he smiled after hearing his father sing, having been faking his sleep.

Wilbur went into his study, putting his hat down on his desk as he sat down and looked down at his battle plans. Picking up a quill, he tried to calculate better plans than the ones he already had.

“My father wasn't around I swear that I'll be around for you I'll do whatever it takes I'll make a million mistakes I'll make the world safe and sound for you.”

Wilbur continued to sing under his breath as he wrote.

“You will come of age with our young nation. We'll bleed and fight for you. We'll make it right for you. If we lay a strong enough foundation. We'll pass it on to you, we'll give the world to you. And you'll blow us all away. Someday, someday. Yeah, you'll blow us all away. Someday, someday.”

His little star and Fundy would take this nation to great places when he couldn’t anymore. Right now, he had to make sure this nation saw past Dream’s dark reign to let his children had freedom and he would do whatever it takes to make that happen…

[cannotflyarc]

@luckhissoul sent: you’re lonely too.

❝ i'm a mother. mothers don't get lonely. ❞

she's forced-fed herself the lie so many times, to the point where saying the words out loud reminds her more of when she was in fogg's and certain threats became reality. mothers can't get lonely. they have their babies to look after and that's a full time job in itself. her daughter coos, smacks her hands together, giggles---how could she be lonely when she has that?

johanna doesn't allow herself to think about the last time she had a real conversation with another adult. not texting her siblings-in-law or thanking her mother-in-law for watching laura, but a real conversation. if this is a "real" conversation, does she really enjoy it if she's being accused of being lonely? ( yes, yes to both. she is lonely. she wants to talk about nothing or everything, either way. )

a sigh. ❝ you said "too." are you lonely? ❞ lips twist to the side. ❝ i'm sorry if you are. ❞ she's lonely, too.

[cagesings]

@soldwrecked, @heygutlcss, @whatsbehindthefacade

tight-lipped smile and fingers drumming against her lap, she contemplates her regret for her decision to answer the door. not that there's any wrong with the company sitting across from her in the parlor. he's quiet. it's uncharacteristic of her to even go near the door when she hears someone knocking on it. johanna would rather avoid the people from town. attending church service with them on sundays in one thing. the way they try to pry themselves in their lives is another. her visitor hardly spoke a word. he towered over her when she guided him into the parlor. he spoke in an accent she did not recognize. he simply sat there, waiting for her husband to get home.

( she doesn't like strange men in her home. they're unpredictable and despite him seemingly being good-mannered, she can't be sure it isn't a façade. )

❝ my apologies once again, mr. beliayev? ❞ johanna thinks that's his name. it's foreign. not very many beliayevs in london nor the other side of england. ❝ i thought he would be home by now. ❞ she swallows down a dry throat. a finger begins the endless cycle of roping a curl around it. she doesn't notice. ❝ he's just at the lighthouse. i'm sure you noticed it on the way up here. it's difficult to miss. i think it's rather pretty. especially when you see it at sunrise or sunset or just any time of day really. sunny or stormy or -- ❞ she's rambling. ❝ um, you said you were here for my husband? might i ask why? not that there's a bad reason to visit him -- he's really the best person in the world -- anyone would want to visit him. did you meet him while he was on shore leave, perhaps? ❞ / @soldwrecked

[queenaryastark]

Daenerys and Arya’s Respective Post-Series  Daughter and Son

You will come of age with our young nation We'll bleed and fight for you, we'll make it right for you If we lay a strong enough foundation We'll pass it on to you, we'll give the world to you And you'll blow us all away Someday, someday

[faerielleart]

based on this awesome piece of magnificence written by legend @someonestolemyshoes i hope this pic will convince the person who stole your shoes to give them back to you

i love angst but if there’s one thing i love more than angst it’s BABYFICS bless babyfics and bless authors who help us cope with canon

dropping my usual lyrics that imho go well with the pic, from “dear theodosia - hamilton”

i’m dedicating every day to you

domestic life was never quite my style

~

pride is not the word i’m looking for

there is so much more inside me now

you outshine the morning sun

when you smile i fall apart

and i thought i was so smart

~

my father wasn’t around

i swear that i’ll be around for you

i’ll do whatever it takes

i’ll make the world safe and sound for you

~

if we lay a strong enough foundation

we’ll pass it on to you, we’ll give the world to you

and you’ll blow us all away

someday, someday