#Mr carrisford

[zoevint]

MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIENDS!!!!

~ The Penniless Princess 🥺 oh to be adopted by a British asparagus

[darkhorse-javert]

Fuff-tober Day 4 'Cinderella Moment'

The near-finale scenes of a Victorian Era Foyle's War/ A Little Princess crossover I haven't written yet. (oops) Going on the idea 'the "ugly duckling" gets their moment to shine'- for our beloved Sam's a bit of an Ugly Duckling at Lyminster.

A/N the dashes '-th Regiment' for example, are intended, ala Jane Austen.

Ram Das and Carrisford are particularly drawn from the excellent 1987 BBC version. (Can be found on YouTube)

Sam had settled herself on a discreet chair in the small drawing room of Lyminster House hands folded neatly and demurely on her lap, and for want of anything better to do, observed the new occupier of the moment.

'A gentleman', her father had disclosed before he brought her in company, 'well travelled, but who had been very ill, and who had rented the house for it's good air and quiet location to aid his recuperation.' He looked unwell still, the bones standing out on his face and hands, a sallow pale colour on his skin, in spite of the fire and the blanket tucked around his shoulders by the Sikh servant-man.

Sick at heart or soul too, it appeared, the haunted echo in his eyes. She listened as Catholic-esque, he softly unburdened his troubles onto her fathers listening ears. "- my old school friend, he gave me the money, more than he should have," he gave a rueful cough of black laughter "and I ruined him, with those diamonds. Ruined and killed the best kindest man I ever knew, they should have locked me up for it."

"Were a man locked up for every little mistake, condemned for every sin, there would be only innocent babes left in the world." Her father soothes "And you did not kill your friend..."

"The shock brought on the illness which killed him, which is much the same thing." The man looks away from her father, face twisting, in pain or bitterness. "And after all that, the mines come good, more than I could ever have dreamed for. But what good is it?"

Her father opens his mouth, but the man cuts him off with a wave of his hand, "Don't talk of charity, I'd give my half of the fortune just to find Crewe's daughter. Looked all over Europe, all the way to Russia in schools, but I can't find her." His eyes are bleaker still, "Poor little Sarah."

He says the last more to himself than to them, but her ears catch it.

Diamonds, Crewe, Daughter, Sarah, well, Sara. "How do you spell Crewe, Sir? C-R-E-W?" Sam asks, pressing her folded hands into each other. Do not get his hopes up, do not get mine up either

Her father turns to look reprovingly at her, shaking his head ever so slightly.

But Mr Carmichael only lifts his head slightly from where he has slumped in his chair, "C-R-E-W-E." He emphasises the last letter "Captain Ralph Crewe. -th Regiment." It all has the monotone of words said over and over, or in a dream or a fever. His chest heaves

The right spelling, the same story.

"I know where she is!" She barely holds herself sitting in the chair, and fails.

"Samantha!" Her father barks, "it is not decourous to interrupt. Is that what they taught you at the Seminary?"

But she had eyes only for Mr. Carrisford as she goes towards him, he's pushing himself violently upright in his chair, eyes lighting up, "You know where she is? You're sure?"

"She's at Miss Minchin's Seminary for Young Ladies on - Square in London. She came there when she was seven and I was eleven. She grew up in India, she speaks Hindustani," "Sam stared about the room, what else can I tell him "She told me about Shiva, and Ganesh, and Buhdda.." She whirls abot, pointing to each of the statues in turn. "Her mother was French, but died before she knew her, Sara speaks it as well as a Frenchwoman herself." She runs out of breath, gasps inelegently for more

"Yes," Carrisford says, a bright, near wild flush on his face "I remember Crewe married a French lady- Isabelle, her name was." He looks only at Sam "She's at this Seminary, you say?"

"Yes." Now the hard bit, Sam draws closer to the man "When her -Sara's- father - that is, Captain Crewe - died, Miss Minchin kept her on as a servant, to 'cover the debts' she said." Carrisford's face plunges in agony and she hears even her unshockable father gasp.

"A Servant Crewe's little Sara?" Then Carrisford is shouting towards a door "Ram Das... Ram Das! Ram Das!" He reaches forwards and grabs at Sam's hands, his grip surprisingly strong for the frailness of her hands. Ram Das rushes in, a flash of gold in the corner of her vision.

She drops to her knees in front of Mr Carrisford, putting them on the same level, and sees tears brimming in the man's eyes. "Thank You." He wheezes, "Thank you." Now words fly out from him in a rushing torrent, one arm reaching to push off the covering blanket, "Ram Das, we go to London, order the carriage ready to the station. Jaladi, Jaladi!" But the torrent ends in a gasp and a fit of coughing, shaking the man through.

Sam glances at Ram Das as the Sikh steps closer, pulls the blanket back around, a hand on his master's shoulder to keep him down "No Sahib, no London for you. See, you are not yet well enough."

"You don't understand," Carrisford half snaps, half pleads, staring at the other man, "Sara's there - Miss Crewe."

Sam watches as Ram Das nods, "I understand this, Sahib. But I also know you will put youself back in bed, being like this. You will not go to London. Doctor Sahib said Rest."

Sam bites her lip, it is far too true that Carrisford is in no fit state to travel to London. And even he seems to accept this, stopping his efforts to move from the chair. Instead he looks to where their hands are still folded together, to her, and then over her shoulder to where her father must be. His eyes are burning bright.

"Reverend, would you go? You and your daughter? Go and bring her back? I'll give you a letter for the Mistress of the Seminary, giving you authority to do so- I've seen Crewe's papers, I'm Sara's guardian-in-law. If she won't take that, my lawyer Carmichael lives nearby, go to him"

Sam twists, heedless of any damage to her dress, hating the stiff bodice, to look at her father. His face is a little stunned, but he slowly nods. "If you have the proof of this Mr Carrisford, and you, Samantha," His eyes come to rest on her "can identify the girl..."

Sam nods quickly, Please, please.

Her father dips his chin "Then I would be happy to help."

"Excellent." Carrisford beams, years of pain falling away from his face

[dumbass-duo-showdown]

BEST DAD BATTLE: DAD MANSION BREAK IN/SECOND CHANCE

ROUND 2 SHAVEDOWN

[kingedmundsroyalmurder]

In the middle of Valancy Stirling's fourteenth year, a great excitement came to Deerwood. Valancy heard the news from Cousin Olive, who had heard from her parents. Olive pulled Valancy aside after school one day and told her with great importance, "Have you heard? A Princess is coming to live here!" Sara Crewe meets Valancy Stirling.

Chapter four: Valancy discovers a new pastime and the Stirlings hatch a plan.

Author's note: moving forward, for the sake of actually getting work done at work and also saving my wrists, I'll be posting chapters weekly, on Thursdays.

Read the full fic at the AO3 link above, or read just chapter four below!

Valancy had no idea of the turmoil she had caused in her cousin that day, nor did she have the slightest inkling that, when Olive had indignantly relayed the news to her parents that evening, Aunt Wellington had actually chastised Olive for listening in. "Eavesdroppers never hear any good about themselves," Aunt Wellington had reminded her furious daughter, and she had allowed Olive to flounce off to bed without supper. Aunt Wellington had not particularly enjoyed her tea with Mr. Carrisford and his ward, but she had been very pleased by the social recognition it brought to her, and she did not want Olive to squander their family's opportunity in a fit of childish jealousy.

But as we have said, Valancy knew nothing of this. The only thing Valancy knew was that, for the first time in her entire life, someone had chosen her. And not just anyone, either. For, the more they talked, the more Valancy felt that Sara Crewe was the most interesting person in the entire world. Sara told stories as easily as breathing, and it seemed like everything she said had a hint of magic or adventure in it. She told Valancy more about India, and about the voyage from London to Deerwood. When she tired of those, she invented fairy stories out of thin air, epics about lords and princesses that would have been right at home in the Blue Castle. Once, Valancy got up the courage to shyly suggest an idea for a story that Sara was telling, a fantastical tale about a woman traveling through a sea of flowers to get to her long lost brother.

"Perhaps there is a bird that eats only the honey from these flowers," Valancy said. "So small it can hide in the petals, but just big enough to carry a message."

Sara seized on the idea with alacrity, and expanded on it, giving the bird eyes made of gemstones and wings of gossamer thread. "And the woman saw the bird and said to it, 'My friend, I beg you, will you aid me in my quest?' And the bird said -- do you think the bird can talk, Valancy?"

"Of course it can," Valancy said, too wrapped up in the story to feel shy. "But its voice is as small as it is, so no one has ever heard it before."

"And the bird said, 'If it is within my power I shall help, my lady, but I ask a favor in return.'" Sara paused, looking at Valancy, and Valancy realized that Sara was inviting her to join in the telling of the story.

"The bird… the bird said, 'I am looking for my lost love,'" Valancy said, and Sara smiled encouragingly at her to continue. "'She has feathers soft as these flower petals, and her eyes shine like sapphires. We were separated when a great wind swept across the sea. I found shelter in a budding blossom, but she was tossed into the wind like an elm seed and carried away. You are tall, my lady, and can see far into the horizon. Will you help me search for her?'"

Sara recognized the story, as Valancy had hoped she would, and she clapped her hands with delight. After that they shared the story, with Sara playing the part of the woman and Valancy transforming herself into a tiny, magical bird fluttering alongside her. When at last, after several days of telling, the pair found their respective happiness, Sara and Valancy had accumulated a sizable audience of listeners. The weather had turned cold, and many of the students found it far more enjoyable to listen to this new, odd form of theatre happening in the schoolroom than to brave the bitter wind of Muskoka winter. Had she stopped to reflect, Valancy would have been utterly tongue tied by such an audience. She had never been able to recite well, and dreaded the times when Miss Bryant called upon her to answer a question in front of everybody. But in the midst of the telling, she did not have time to even notice the audience. She barely saw them at all, caught up as she was in the sea of flowers, her gossamer wings beating rapidly to keep pace with Sara's stride.

Olive, although she doggedly refused to join the growing group of girls (and a few of the younger boys) listening to the story, did make one more effort to reverse the catastrophe. She told her mother that Doss was making up fairy stories, and that all that excitement couldn't be good for her cousin's health or her moral upbringing. Aunt Wellington felt this an alarming enough development to share with Mrs. Fredrick and Cousin Stickles, and an emergency council was held one day while the girls were at school.

"She's always been such a good girl," Mrs. Fredrick Stirling said worriedly. "She reads too much, of course, but I've never permitted her any novels. Where could she be coming up with these things?" Aunt Wellington had passed along Olive's report that Valancy fancied herself a bird -- and a male bird at that -- and the news was proving nearly too much for Mrs. Stirling's nerves.

"Come now Amelia," Uncle Benjamin said. Sara Crewe had sent her servant girl to his store the other day and spent a great deal there, and he was feeling indulgent of the young princess. "Children will have these flights of fancy sometimes. Has she stopped doing her chores?"

Mrs. Stirling had to admit that Valancy had not.

"Has she started talking this nonsense to you and Christine?"

No, Valancy had not breathed a word to her mother or Cousin Stickles about any of this. Mrs. Stirling frowned as she recalled how she had asked Doss every evening that week how school had been and not once had Doss said a word to her about being a bird or a sea of flowers or any of the rest of these lunacies.

"She certainly should have told you," Uncle Benjamin said, when Mrs. Fredrick relayed this. "But really, Amelia, she's a young girl. You have to expect these things sometimes."

"I never did anything like this when I was a girl," Mrs. Fredrick Stirling said, deeply affronted.

"Nor does Olive," Aunt Wellington added, feeling accused by association.

Uncle Benjamin saw that he would have to be more direct, if he wanted to be understood. "Be sensible, Amelia," he said. "Your daughter has befriended the richest girl in the whole town." And here he realized that in all the excitement he had forgotten to share the newest piece of news he had gleaned about Miss Sara Crewe. "I heard this morning that she's the heiress to the richest diamond mine in all of India, and she and her guardian certainly spend money like that's the truth. She's bound to have some eccentricities. I don't see any harm in letting Doss hang around with her, not when she has that much good fortune to spare."

"But Doss has precious few marital prospects as it is," Mrs. Stirling said, uncharacteristically speaking one of her private fears out loud. "Eccentricities are all very well when you're a diamond heiress, but what will people think if Doss goes around spouting nonsense like that?"

"They'll think that Doss has a very wealthy friend and that she's an excellent girl to marry because of it," Uncle Benjamin said firmly. The women in the room looked doubtful of this pronouncement, but as Uncle Benjamin was the only man present he was taken as the authority on male preference.

"I… I suppose she's not so bad," Mrs. Stirling said after a moment. "Miss Crewe, that is. She said hello very respectfully to everyone in church last week. But really. Birds?"

"Maybe you can encourage her towards more sensible past times," Uncle Benjamin allowed. The inspiration struck. "Invite her here, where you can watch over them."

Mrs. Stirling's hands flew to her mouth. "Here?" she gasped, looking around at her sitting room. "I couldn't possibly entertain an heiress here! Why we can barely afford to have the family over once a year for our anniversary!"

Uncle Benjamin considered the problem. Aunt Wellington, whom he would normally expect to jump in and offer to host, remained conspicuously silent. She had not forgiven Sara the slight against Olive, for all that she had reprimanded Olive for overhearing it. After a moment he nodded decisively. "I've got it," he proclaimed.

"What?" Cousin Stickles asked. In the absence of Valancy, it fell to her to ask the prompting questions.

"I shall invite Mr. Carrisford and his ward over for dinner next Saturday. You," and here he nodded to Aunt Wellington and Mrs. Fredrick in turn, "shall join us, and bring your daughters to keep Miss Crewe company." He sat back in his chair, looking extremely pleased with himself.

Aunt Wellington and Mrs. Fredrick Stirling agreed that this was a capital idea. Aunt Wellington very much liked the idea of repaying Mr. Carrisford's hospitality without having to host him herself, and Mrs. Stirling was anxious to see Miss Crewe and Doss for herself. She trusted Benjamin's judgment, of course, but, well, it wasn't his daughter thinking she was a bird. Things were different to a mother.

***

Valancy felt she might faint when she heard of the plan that evening. A torrent of memories tumbled through her mind, each more dreadful than the last, of past Stirling clan dinner parties. Uncle Benjamin would make jokes only he found amusing and Uncle James would grow cross when the conversation did not meet his standard of refinement and Cousin Georgiana would talk endlessly of funerals. Aunt Wellington would no doubt tell the story of the missing wedding teaspoon, and Uncle Benjamin would bring up the raspberry jam, and Mrs. Fredrick would tell of how she had sneezed when being measured for her school dress and the pattern had come out crooked. All this, Valancy could have born and, indeed, did bear each time the clan gathered. But to hear all the usual topics trotted out in front of Sara!

'I shan't be able to bear it,' Valancy thought wildly. 'Truly, I shall die on the spot if Uncle Benjamin so much as looks in the direction of a jam pot.'

"Did you hear me Doss?" Mrs. Stirling asked, cutting through Valancy's racing thoughts.

"No," Valancy admitted. "I'm sorry."

"I said, be sure to write your Uncle Benjamin a thank you card for his generosity," Mrs. Stirling said. She peered at Valancy over her knitting. "Are you catching cold again? You look peaky."

"I'm fine," Valancy said. Then, because there was nothing else she could say, she added, "I'll be sure to write Uncle Benjamin tonight before bed."

"Good," Mrs. Stirling said.

"It's a pity it's bound to snow next week," Cousin Stickles said. "Doss will surely ketch measles if she walks to Benjamin's in the snow."

The other two reflected on the statement. "Providence will provide," Mrs. Stirling said after a moment. She said this with such unshakable majesty that the other two busied themselves with their work just to avoid having to admit that they did not see how such a thing could be done.

"Maybe the weather will be nice," Valancy ventured. Both Mrs. Stirling and Cousin Stickles contradicted this immediately, and Cousin Stickles launched into a complaint about the dreariness of winter, which seemed to come earlier every year and each time last longer than the previous. Valancy applied herself to her quilt and tried to take refuge in the Blue Castle. She found it particularly difficult that evening, for each time she had just settled in another entirely mundane worry would cross her mind and the entire castle crumbled away. At one point she imagined Uncle Benjamin asking Sara why young ladies were like bad grammarians and she turned so violently pale that Mrs. Stirling sent Cousin Stickles to fetch the thermometer at once.

"You'd best go to bed early," Cousin Stickles told her, although the thermometer had turned up nothing unusual. "You've been so lucky with colds this year -- only two, and it's nearly Christmas! It won't do for you to ketch one this close to the holidays."

Valancy had been sick with cold more Christmases than she had been well, although it would not do to remind Cousin Stickles of this. Instead, glad to have an excuse to quit her endless quilt piecing early, she dutifully put her work aside and went up to her room.

In truth, she did feel a little queer. A pit of dread had opened deep in her stomach and she knew already that nothing would fill it until the dinner party had passed. But the only thing worse than going to the dinner party would be falling sick and missing it. Oh, she would not be able to stand it if Sara went and she did not and she was forced to stay home and imagine all the things that the Stirling clan were saying about her.

She would be careful, she resolved. She would take great care not to get sick before Saturday. She would stay inside and she would stay out of the rain and -- and here Valancy steeled herself before making this last silent promise -- she would ask Cousin Stickles to rub Redfern's liniment on her chest in the evenings. After all, Cousin Stickles always said that it couldn't do any harm and it might do some good. Valancy needed all the good she could muster.

[harleychick91]

I think it’s safe to say that I’ll enjoy all three of the books in the Feminine Pursuits series by Olivia Waite. The first being The Lady’s Guide to Celestial Machines. The narrator Morag Sims brings all the characters to life. I will admit, this one took a bit longer for me to enjoy because I just finished The Lady’s Guide and missed those characters. But soon enough, Maddie and Sophia stole my heart.

It's not a crime to steal a heart...

Sophie Roseingrave hates nothing more than a swindler. After her family lost their piano shop to a con man in London, they're trying to start fresh in a new town. Her father is convinced Carrisford is an upright and honest place, but Sophie is not so sure. She has grave suspicions about silk-weaver Madeline Crewe, whose stunning beauty doesn't hide the fact that she's up to something.

All Maddie Crewe needs is one big score, one grand heist to properly fund the weavers' union forever. She has found her mark in Mr. Giles, a greedy draper, and the entire association of weavers and tailors and clothing merchants has agreed to help her. The very last thing she needs is a small but determined piano-teacher and composer sticking her nose in other people's business. If Sophie won't be put off, the only thing to do is to seduce her to the cause.

Will Sophie's scruples force her to confess the plot before Maddie gets her money? Or will Maddie lose her nerve along with her heart?

[elliottandstuff50]

Meet All the Characters

Jessie

Gretrude

Lavinia Herbert

Sara Crewe

Amelia Minchin

Miss Minchin

Peter

Lottie Legh

Ermemgarde St. John

Ram Dass

Mr. Carrisford

James

Molly

Becky

Characters go to Ghamgeen Kurd Anime and Nippon Animation.

[ojamajoprincess]

the 1986 version of a little princess is good bc:

has a majority of the dialogue directly quoted from the book

scenes are adapted well

good, period accurate costume design

the added in dialogue is miss amelia being like “it is hardly ladylike expressing yourself, lottie” and Aya calling Crew out for sending Sara away to school

[rockislandadultreads]

Picks for PRIDE: Queer Historical Romances

A Lady for a Duke by Alexis Hall

When Viola Caroll was presumed dead at Waterloo she took the opportunity to live, at last, as herself. But freedom does not come without a price, and Viola paid for hers with the loss of her wealth, her title, and her closest companion, Justin de Vere, the Duke of Gracewood. Only when their families reconnect, years after the war, does Viola learn how deep that loss truly was. Shattered without her, Gracewood has retreated so far into grief that Viola barely recognises her old friend in the lonely, brooding man he has become. As Viola strives to bring Gracewood back to himself, fresh desires give new names to old feelings. Feelings that would have been impossible once and may be impossible still, but which Viola cannot deny. Even if they cost her everything, all over again.

The Perks of Loving a Wallflower by Erica Ridley

As a master of disguise, Thomasina Wynchester can be a polite young lady—or a bawdy old man. Anything to solve the case. Her latest assignment unveils a top-secret military cipher covering up an enigma that goes back centuries. But when Tommy’s beautiful new client turns out to be the highborn lady she’s secretly smitten with, more than her mission is at stake... Bluestocking Miss Philippa York doesn’t believe in love. Her cold heart didn't pitter-patter when she was betrothed to a duke, nor did it break when he married someone else. All Philippa desires is to rescue her priceless manuscript and decode its clues to unmask a villain. She hates that she needs a man's help—so she’s delighted to discover the clever, charming baron at her side is in fact a woman. Her cold heart... did it just pitter-patter?

The Hellion's Waltz by Olivia Waite

It’s not a crime to steal a heart... Sophie Roseingrave hates nothing more than a swindler. After her family lost their piano shop to a con man in London, they’re trying to start fresh in a new town. Her father is convinced Carrisford is an upright and honest place, but Sophie is not so sure. She has grave suspicions about silk-weaver Madeline Crewe, whose stunning beauty doesn’t hide the fact that she’s up to something. All Maddie Crewe needs is one big score, one grand heist to properly fund the weavers’ union forever. She has found her mark in Mr. Giles, a greedy draper, and the entire association of weavers and tailors and clothing merchants has agreed to help her. The very last thing she needs is a small but determined piano-teacher and composer sticking her nose in other people’s business. If Sophie won’t be put off, the only thing to do is to seduce her to the cause. Will Sophie’s scruples force her to confess the plot before Maddie gets her money? Or will Maddie lose her nerve along with her heart?

The Pursuit Of... by Courtney Milan

What do a Black American soldier, invalided out at Yorktown, and a white British officer who deserted his post have in common? Quite a bit, actually. • They attempted to kill each other the first time they met. • They're liable to try again at some point in the five-hundred mile journey that they're inexplicably sharing. • They are not falling in love with each other. • They are not falling in love with each other. • They are… Oh, no. The Pursuit Of… is about a love affair between two men and the Declaration of Independence. It’s a novella of around 38,000 words.

[sapphicbookclub]

The Hellion’s Waltz by Olivia Waite

Sophie Roseingrave hates nothing more than a swindler. After her family lost their piano shop to a con man in London, they’re trying to start fresh in a new town. Her father is convinced Carrisford is an upright and honest place, but Sophie is not so sure. She has grave suspicions about silk-weaver Madeline Crewe, whose stunning beauty doesn’t hide the fact that she’s up to something.

All Maddie Crewe needs is one big score, one grand heist to properly fund the weavers’ union forever. She has found her mark in Mr. Giles, a greedy draper, and the entire association of weavers and tailors and clothing merchants has agreed to help her. The very last thing she needs is a small but determined piano-teacher and composer sticking her nose in other people’s business. If Sophie won’t be put off, the only thing to do is to seduce her to the cause.

Will Sophie’s scruples force her to confess the plot before Maddie gets her money? Or will Maddie lose her nerve along with her heart?

Genres: historical, romance

Get the book from The Book Depository here!

[justbenice00]

If you're more offended by Sara Crewe saying the word 'fuck' than you are by Miss Minchin's abysmal treatment of her, then you are what's wrong with our society.

Mr. Carrisford

[dumbass-duo-showdown]

BEST DAD BATTLE: DAD MANSION BREAK IN/SECOND CHANCE ROUND 2

[malkaleh]

Dear Yuletide Writer

I’m mihrsuri here and on AO3 (also a note that I’m borrowing from another letter - I absolutely welcome treats. 

This letter is designed as a guide if it’s helpful for you to have a guide - if it isn’t helpful or doesn’t spark joy then go where joy is sparked! I promise I will be delighted by it. However I do have some triggers that are absolute hard line no’s  - I’ll list those below. 

(I’ve also borrowed some phrasing from @beatrice-otter‘s letter because I found it useful <3). 

Triggers: alpha beta omega, bdsm, daddy/daughter/little girl play, descriptions of dirty rooms, medical play, scat/water play, apocalypses/dystopian fic with no hope and explicit depictions of child sexual abuse and child prostitution. 

Please no incest or darkfic. I define "darkfic" as stuff where there's a lot of suffering and no hope even at the end and all the characters are terrible. Angst with a happy ending is fine, I enjoy it, but there's gotta be a payoff. Even an ambiguous ending is fine! But there has to be some note of grace or redemption or hope somewhere, it can't just be "people are awful and the world sucks, the end."

Likes:

*relationships where the people in them trust each other, value each other and know each other's strengths and weaknesses and how to work together with them. *COMPETENCE PORN. ALL THE COMPETENCE PORN. *Stories about people making things and surviving and building/rebuilding, in spite of challenges. *Stories about surviving and then thriving in spite of damage. *Found families. ALL THE FOUND FAMILIES. *Poly families with kids. *AUs. ALL THE GLORIOUS AUs. * To borrow/quote from a friend: men who love, value and appreciate their wives as intelligent, capable people with sense etc, major bonus points for if that woman actually presents "traditional femininity" -Awesome women who present as traditionally feminine and are wives, mothers and AWESOME. -OT3s who are all in love with each other is just ABSOLUTELY MY CAKE -People who upon being presented with a loved one as hostage situation knows that the loved one would absolutely murder them if they gave in. And they refuse to be held responsible for what the villain will do. -People getting on, talking to each other, having a community around them. -Ethical, kind and decent people who are NOT SILLY OR NAIVE.

-stories about living with and surviving trauma, especially rape and how you can still have kindness and good even with heavy scars.  *Dying for the greater good with grace and dignity *Mirror Universes! (Particularly 'crosses over with regular universe') *Multimedia stories

My AO3 bookmarks might be useful for this if you want to research further (also the tag ‘lils fic wishlist’ on this tumblr)

Fandoms:

Pellinor: I will admit to liking a good hurt/comfort fic featuring Cadvan. I’m also very fond of extremely feral protective Maerad but just in general, world building about Pellinor would be amazing.  And okay, this is another niche prompt which again, please feel free to ignore but I am so interested in the What If of ‘what if OT3 between Saliman/Cadvan/Ceredin who lived (I loved them in the bonus short story The Friendship) - what would that look like in the time of The Gift’ I would also love some Cadvan centric hurt/comfort or a story of the friendship Saliman and Cadvan built over the years. But honestly, go with what inspires you. Also in multimedia terms - did you want to write ‘in universe academic article about some aspect of bardic culture’? Any kind of in universe media content? So here for that!

Spinning Silver: I’m a biracial mizrahi jewish woman so anything about Miryem and Judaism would absolutely unabashedly delight me. I’m also here for the Staryk King and Mirnatius striking up a friendship based on ‘I love my wife SO MUCH isn’t she AWESOME’ and also sarcasm. 

A Little Princess: BIRACIAL (Desi Jewish) SARA CREWE. No honestly, that’s my feels. How does that change things, if in any way. Ralph Crewe/Mr Carrisford being a thing (you could absolutely add Sara’s mother and have a living OT3). 

[worstloki]

It was a very weird dream. I kinda wish it had lasted longer so I could have seen who Mr. Carrisford and Mr. Carmichael and everyone else was.

I’m pretty sure both the Tesseract and Leah were there, I just can’t remember which of them was Becky and which of them was in another role. Or what that other role was.

I also can’t remember Miss Amelia- I wanna say it was Frigga, but that doesn’t sound right. Oh well.

Now I’m thinking of all the possibilities of throwing Leah and Tess into an MCU fic 👀

[betterbooksandthings]

The Hellions Waltz by Olivia Waite

Olivia Waite's The Hellions Waltz is a shockingly tender romance placed in the center of a grand fleece. Sophie Roseingrave and her family's piano shop was left reeling when a swindler promised them fame and left them with unfulfilled promises and debt. Now, they have sold everything and left London and started again in Carrisford, an honest, quiet town. In walks Maddie Crewe, a swindler who is trying to sell magic cloth to a local draper, Mr. Giles, with the aim of funding the weavers’ union with the proceeds. But, when Sophie comes across the swindle, she will do anything to stop it. Will Sophie be able to stop the crime in time, or will Maddie's honesty steal her heart?

  The third novel in the Feminine Pursuits series does not disappoint with its historically accurate depiction of pianists, silk weavers, and unionists alike. The entire series centers on the products of female labor, the intellectual theft involved in many respectable male enterprises, and the value of undervalued work products. you may be happy to hear this novel is not an exception.

  Not to mention the splendid characters. Sophie is a kind, honest, and enthusiastic bisexual protagonist with a family that knows about and supports her partners. I love the way she teaches children and composes them with ease. Then you have Maddie, a talented silk-weaver and unionist. Her position in her community and commitment to her cause is commendable. Their relationship is interestingly balanced without a transition period where either had to discover their attraction to women. I enjoyed the primary characters, but Sophie's rambunctious family of musicians and Sophies supportive network of weavers brought the story to life.

  Now, the con at the center of the story was a bit ridiculous, but then again, it was a plot conceived with the premise that he knows nothing about science and is greedy enough to believe the ruse. Nevertheless, it was satisfying to see nonsense sold to a man who had terrorized local weavers for years.

  If you are looking for historical romance novels that center on queer women, these are the books to turn to. Be ready to pick up The Hellions Waltz by Olivia Waite upon its release on June 15, 2021.

Thank you, Avon and Harper Voyager via NetGalley for providing the eARC of The Hellion’s Waltz by Olivia Waite in exchange for my honest review.

[moretreasurewithinarchive]

So I finished A Little Princess today. And I'm torn. Should I have separate verses for the book and the movie? Or should I go with my original plan and combine them? The stuff at the school is no big deal, I can add that to what we see in the film. But my heart wants both Tom Carrisford to be involved AND her father to survive. I did like Mr. Randolph too so I wanted to keep him as well.

[doumekiss]

birthday girls (a little princess fanfic)

Sara/Becky // G // 487 words //  When they were much younger and Sara found out that Becky wasn't sure when her birthday was, she said the two would henceforth share hers.

When they were much younger and Sara found out that Becky wasn't sure when her birthday was, she said the two would henceforth share hers. And that's what they did for the next few years, on their twenty-fifth birthday Sara woke her up with kisses on her cheek and neck and a box with a big bow on the top. Inside there was a nice dress for Becky to wear to the party that would take place later. Becky in turn gave Sara a hardcover book with Russian fairy tales she had bought with the money she made embroidering for the ladies of high society in London.

Later at the party Sara was somewhat distracted talking to the sons of some of Mr Carrisford's friends, and when she turned her attention to Becky she found her no longer present in the ballroom of her benefactor's mansion. She found her shortly after sitting on a garden bench with her gaze fixed on the stars.

"Becky what are you doing here? It's cold"

"The cold doesn't bother me much. You should go back to the party I'll meet you later"

"No, it's our birthday I want to be with you. I can take the cold for the pleasure of your company."

"I don't want you to endure things for me"

"You're not just talking about the cold, right?"

"Some of the men at the party were flirting with you"

Sara laughed.

"So that's what this is about? Becky you should've known they weren't flirting with me, they were flirting with my money."

"Some of them maybe, but others had a certain sparkle in their eyes. You're an enchanting woman Sara, and there would be many interested even if you had nowhere to fall dead."

"Honest or not their interest is irrelevant, because the only person I want to be with in that way is you. You're worth much more than them, you were there for me when no one else was."

"You don't have to feel gratitude. Sara, whatever I have given you, you have already given me ten times more. And I sometimes feel that you miss opportunities for being with me."

"You're not taking anything from me, and even if you were what you give me is so much more precious. I love you and I want to spend my life with you, I knew that when I was nine years old and I know that now, and you should know that if it were allowed I would have made you my wife years ago "

Sara said and kissed Becky on the lips until she could feel the other smiling against her mouth.

"Thank you, I think I can get back now," Becky said slightly out of breath.

"Well, I don't want to. Let's stay here for a while, when it's time to cut the cake someone will come looking for us."

"As you wish Sara"

Also available on ao3