#also you get a noble little horsie :)

[candycryptids]

Y’all ever thinkin about the Odin fate

the sword chooses Them Her It Him Me You.

It Chooses, it Takes- does it whisper power? It must do something- besides the tempering. Or is it simply relying on the act of holding power that corrupts? It doesn’t seek others- it has You.

[attourney-at-lycan]

i want to talk about zane. (yes i just woke up and my first thought was block people)

tw men: physical and verbal abuse

in my rewrite i played a lot into his role as a priest as well his relationship with his family.

i believe garte taught zane to care a lot for his country and only his country. and hear me out it kinda works?

zane’s goal throughout the whole series is to gain power, he’s obsessed with power but why? no one’s born evil overnight and why would garte teach a kid to be cruel for no reason? and why zane of all his kids? why not garroth, what as different about garroth that he had to teach to zane?

anyway, questions aside, yeah- i believe zane genuinely loves his country and maybe grew up to believe that he should grow up to protect it. however he didn’t believe he was the one to be in power because that was garroth’s job. i think as envious as he was, he still thought garroth was sort of fitting to be a king, albeit a little too kind to others, he believed he himself could fill the role.

so god, imagine the anger and betrayal he felt when garroth ran away because he couldn’t marry someone. because he couldn’t commit to being lord (or king idk). because he didn’t care about o’khasis.

god that made no fucking sense oh my god.

aLSO- need for power could come from garte. i think garte is the type to believe that you have to beat someone down for them to grow stronger. i mean he didn’t do that with garroth and look how he turned out-

so i would not be shocked if garte would berate zane for being weak, or if he would start using physical abuse as a way to train “endurance”.

bro im so sorry im absolutely out order with my rants i keep losing track of shit-

ummm- recap, zane’s obsession with power grew because garte belittled him and raised to believe that o’khasis was the best place ever and that he should want to make it even better place. he wants to be powerful for both his father’s approval and for the better of the kingdom.

yes okay good recap, me.

back to zane being a priest thing. because garroth is gone, zane takes it upon himself to help o’khasis’ growth. he was already a priest by the time garroth ran away and didn’t feel like he’d fit as a king, so he decided to push for putting the church into government.

he was just your average human in physical talent, but he was extremely talented in getting people to listen to him, to believe what he says. and this is what i where i want to get with my biggest problem with zane in mcd.

zane’s a priest, he’s not supposed to be outwardly evil in public. im probably wrong but i don’t remember the people of o’khasis being scared or hating on zane- heck when he puts the city on lockdown, people listen to him.

so in my rewrite, zane has a fucking gilb tongue. he plays the extremely caring priest to his people (which i believe he cares for.. at first, and i’ll get to that in a bit) and when it comes to diplomatic shit, making deals with nobles, he knows how to manipulate them, butter them up with… just a couple words.

basically zane manipulates mansplains malewife /hj

what else did i want to talk about.

OH yeah- i also wanted to talk about garte. apparently he had a “near death experience” that ‘corrupted’ him because apparently this was why he treated vlyad like shit and fucked up zane.

and now im thinking, this was probably going to be a plot device to use later on because why would they specify this near death experience. my theory is that he’s a shadow knight. only thing that can pop into my head right now. either that or he didn’t have a near death experience because some abusers tend to flip flop attitudes a lot.

anyway, my brain isnt giving me any more on zane and im so sorry this was such a disorganized ramble- but idk as much as i kove mcd zane, i want to make him more than a grr evil power hungry priest who likes horsies because he deserves more! in my rewrite he’s someone who cares a lot about those he sworn to protect, very much like his brother, except his way to go about it.. grow a “bit” obsessive and it ends up causing mass murder and destruction because it doesn’t matter, they’re not the people he cares about and they’re in his way of getting the power he wants.

ok zane ramble over

[mushibashiraas]

i bought tickets to see the new downton abbey movie with my mom and i keep thinking of riddle. i mean, alice in wonderland IS set in mid to late 1800s/early 1900s, yes?

using Downton Abbey as a reference as well as making a lot of comparisons to life as a noble family in the early 1900s. and of course, just like with the jamil headcanons, i'm gonna try to mainly write for a gn!yuu/gn! oc. also, if i get any "life in victorian england" things wrong, i apologize. i'm word vomitting while geeking out about history lmao

btw! here's a link that i referenced for the "courting in victorian england" headcanons. and here's a playlist i made that i listened to while i wrote these. so go watch downton abbey!!!!! puh-lease! such a good, thrilling, classy, fun show. cannot wait for may 20th! ugh *dreams of getting all dolled up with my mom just to see a movie* lmao

- assuming the time for afternoon tea doesn't go against the Queen of Hearts' Rules, riddle always makes sure to take his tea after classes.

- being raised with a typical classical education of a well-known family, riddle knows how to play the piano and the violin. whether he'll allow an audience while he's playing or not will be up to his mood as well as — of course — the Queen of Hearts' Rules.

- for all of his talents and hard work, he's decent at singing. in fact if yuu, ace, or deuce catch him in the act, he gets so flustered and most likely will chase them around the heartslabyul dorm screeching "OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!"

- oh! can we also talk about his ceremonial robes vignette? *simps in ex-equestrian rider* to commemorate the little lord rosehearts on his first horse/taking his first equestrian lesson, his mother commissioned a photo to be taken as well as a well-known, professional artist friend of hers to paint a portrait of him.

- he looked so cute!! all wide-eyes and innocent. a big smile on his face as he cheered and encouraged (much to the shock and horror of his mother) for the horse to "pick up speed! pick up speed, horsie!" she immediately scolded him. thankfully, there was a trainer walking the horse around with the reins; riddle wasn't allowed to hold the reins until he was 9.

- it's kind of hinted at but he doesn't know how to cook. at all. and why would he when all of his meals and healthy snacks were concocted by chefs and bakers and kitchen maids employed in the Rosehearts household?

- even his afternoon tea snacks consisted of fruit and carefully measured-for-nutritional-value-by-his-mother sandwiches

- if he lived in a modern!au instead of twisted wonderland, he'd probably graduate from harvard law school as its top student. there is no winning an argument against/with this child.

- any loopholes found he'd quickly counter with Rule 610 before writing a note to see if he could personally amend that loophole (he'd have no such luck doing so as usual, unfortunately)

- it would be his dream to, unlike his mother, serve in the queen's court as her royal attorney. bby boy would be all starry-eyes his first court case. don't worry though! just like his time as heartslabyul's housewarden, he'd be a pro at masking his courtroom jitters and be nothing but professional and respectful.

- does riddle ever get sick? with one of the Queendom of Roses' best medical mages for a mother, he doesn't usually get sick. there was the time in his labcoat SR, though, where he caught a slight cold.

- if yuu gets sick, he is right there in the infirmary with one of mother's potions (the recipe memorized long ago) scolding them about studying too hard and how important it is to take a break or switch subject material.

- oh and you can bet your bottom thaumark that when referencing illnesses besides the simple cough or cold, he'll use their full names. for example, he'd call a sore throat "pharyngitis" or "streptococcal pharyngitis." ...............maybe "strep throat."

"Getting enough sleep is also essential to keeping any hints at a cold at bay. You're lucky it is just a simple cold! With you coming from another world, who knows how bad you would be. What if it was influenza or worse?! Even The Queen of Hearts did well to make sure she never got sick! Honestly, if Mother didn't send me more potions you'd succumb to a high fever and hallucinations....."

- considering he's so busy with his studies, duties as a dormhead, and learning how to cook caring for the hedgehogs, dating would be the last thing on his mind.

- but say — in the future, when he graduated from night raven college and learned how to cook — he found someone to share his life with, he'd court them properly.

- his mother, being as strict as she was, made sure he abided by the usual "courting" rules expected of men (similar to "courting rituals" in victorian england and the early 1900s).

- even though victorian women usually came out and were chaperoned to balls and dinner parties at the age of 17-18, his mother absolutelt forbade him from attending the majority of the charity banquets and dinners she and her husband were invited to/attended so that he could focus on the full curriculum she gave him.

- even so, she made sure to drill into him general manners and etiquette including courting other potential suitors. she did wish for him to marry well and make sure he didn't bring shame upon the Rosehearts name.

- the last time she brought him out to a holiday ball and dinner party, he almost "resumed his acquaintance with a former dance partner out on the street." *gasps* the horror! the audacity! one of the few mistakes he ever made against mother that he sorely regrets.

- now, unlike in victorian england where — for the woman — "intelligence was not encouraged, nor was any interest in politics" twisted wonderland is different and women are held in high regard as perfectly strong, capable, and more than intelligent. *looks at riddle's mother*

- aside from this being a wish from riddle's mother for his future spouse, riddle himself would independently wish for someone who is equally intelligent and clever. of course it would be nice to "play the role of a gentleman." but if they ever encountered something they could handle perfectly well on their own, then by all means he'd step back and proudly let them handle whatever it is. *cue the smug look on his face as he watches them thoroughly chastise rulebreakers*

[let-the-dream-begin]

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 10: If Only My Dreams

Chapter 9

Read on AO3

December 22

Claire, Gillian, and Faith were on their way to the stables. Gillian had insisted on coming, wanting to “see Faith in action,” as she put it. She’d been spending quite a lot of time with her over the past week. Mrs. Lickett would come in the morning to give Faith her lessons and educational playtime, but then she’d leave around noon, so crafts, movies, and the like were all up to Gillian. Claire had left Faith in Gillian’s care all the time back in England, so she was quite confident they’d be just fine, and things had been going swimmingly all week. Faith was quite enjoying her time with her Auntie, and Claire dreaded the day she had to leave, and the meltdown that would probably follow.

But that was a problem for another day.

When they arrived at the stable, Faith insisted on holding both of their hands in the parking lot, giving Gillian the honor of holding Horsie.

“Don’t you let that thing out of your sight,” Claire warned. “If anything happens to it there’ll be hell to pay. And I don’t mean from me.” She eyed Faith, and Gillian nodded in understanding.

“He’s been left before, has he?”

“Indeed. Never making that mistake again.”

They shared a laugh, which intensified as Faith gave a strong yank on both of their hands to make them get inside faster.

“Eager, isn’t she?” Gillian said, smirking.

“She loves it here, you have no idea,” Claire said, her chest warming. “Just wait until you see her with the horse. It’ll make you cry.”

When they got inside, Faith was bouncing as usual, humming loudly.

“Really, I dinna think I’ve ever seen her this excited fer anything that isna Disney,” Gillian said.

“That’s exactly what I said,” Claire laughed.

“Beauchamp gals!” Toni called as they approached the desk. “And who’s this?”

“This is Faith’s godmother, my best friend from back home. Gillian Edgars.”

“Hi, I’m Toni. It’s great to meet you.” She gave Gillian her hand, then a firm shake. She was wearing an obscenely ugly Christmas sweater and a Santa hat. Erica was donning a Santa hat as well, but if she was wearing a sweater, it wasn’t visible under her coat.

“This is Erica,” Claire said. “One of the volunteers that helps Jamie with Faith.”

“Jamie’s the — ”

“Her main therapist, yes,” Claire interjected before Gillian could say anything bawdy. “Shall we?”

Erica nodded and led them outside, Faith holding dutifully onto both hands again.

“That one likes the lasses,” Gillian whispered to Claire once they were outside.

Claire gave her a confused look. “Erica?” she stammered, in shock that Gillian was speculating about a fifteen year old girl.

“No, ye numpty! Toni!”

“How on Earth can you tell?” Claire said.

“I’ve always had an eye fer those things, ye ken.” She winked. “Does this place only employ hot people?”

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ…” Claire rolled her eyes and swatted her arm.

When they arrived at the stable, Faith’s excitement went through the roof, as always, and Gillian started laughing.

“She’s just the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen,” she chuckled as Erica opened the doors.

Waiting inside with Pippi was the six foot Scot, wearing an equally ridiculous Christmas sweater as Toni’s, also donning a Santa hat.

“Ah, there she is! The wee princess!” Jamie exclaimed. Faith giggled at being addressed as such, and she tugged ever harder on their hands.

“And who’s this, then?” Jamie looked to Gillian.

“This is my best friend from across the Atlantic, Gillian Edgars.”

“A fellow Scot,” Gillian said, shaking his hand.

“Ah! That’s braw!” Jamie beamed, then turned to Claire. “This is the godmother then?”

“Yes, this is Auntie Gi.”

“It’s very fine to finally meet ye, lass. Jamie Fraser.” He finally released her hand. “Claire goes on and on about ye.”

“Didna realize ye talked so much,” Gillian said, throwing Claire side-eye. “About me,” she added quickly.

Had Jamie not been standing right there, Claire would have swatted at her arm again.

“Aye. Well, Faith, d’ye want to show yer Auntie yer horse?” He crouched down to her, and she nodded, letting go of their hands. Faith’s muscle memory took over, and she tended to the creature just the way she’d been taught. “This is Pippi,” Jamie said. “Princess Faith’s noble steed.”

“Princess Faith, he says,” Gillian whispered dreamily, and Claire inconspicuously pinched her thigh.

“Are ye excited to show Auntie Gi how ye ride, lass?” Jamie said, and Faith nodded enthusiastically. “Right then, off we go.”

Jamie hung back with Claire and Gillian while Erica led Faith and Pippi. He and Gillian conversed rapidly in Gaelic, leaving Claire feeling rather stupid as she looked in awe between the two of them.

When they arrived at the riding hall, Gillian and Claire leaned against the fence, Gillian amazed how Faith handled the helmet.

“Oh, that was quite a struggle,” Claire said. “Got bit for that one, remember?”

“Right, ye called me that day,” Gillian said, nodding. “She’s so gentle wi’ the horse. Back there in the stable, ye were right, I almost cried like a bairn.”

“Wait until she gets on,” Claire said warmly. “It’s just incredible.”

“And he…is so good wi’ her,” Gillian said in disbelief. “Could God have created a more perfect specimen?”

That earned her another swat on the arm.

“Hi, Claire,” Mrs. Beardsley’s voice had Claire turning around.

“Oh, hello,” Claire said. “Gi, this is Fanny Beardsley.”

They reached over Claire to shake hands.

“This is your wife?” Fanny said, smiling sweetly.

This immediately had them both sputtering, struggling to not disturb the therapy by howling with laughter.

“She wishes!” Gillian exclaimed, earning yet another swat.

“No, no,” Claire said, wiping tears of laughter away. “This is Faith’s godmother. She’s just visiting for Christmas. We’ve been best friends since college.”

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” Fanny’s face was bright red.

“No, it’s alright, really,” Claire said, though she was still wheezing.

“It actually happens a lot,” Gillian said. “Lots of rumors back in college. Sadly, this one is straight as a pin.” Gillian patted her shoulder, and Claire rolled her eyes.

They passed the rest of the time watching Faith, Gillian whispering in awe and squealing in delight, clapping along with Claire and Erica when Faith earned celebration.

“She’s braw, Claire,” Gillian said, teary-eyed as Faith dismounted. “I’m really proud of her.”

They embraced each other around the shoulders, Claire resting her head on Gillian.

“Watch this,” Claire whispered. “She doesn’t do high-fives like a lot of the other kids, so Jamie does this with her instead.”

They watched the weekly ritual of Jamie giving his enthusiastic thumbs-up, his lopsided grin warming the chill in the air. Faith returned the thumbs up, bouncing and grinning.

“That is the cutest feckin’ thing.” Gillian shook her head in awe, eyes watering again.

They returned to the welcome center, three of them hand in hand, and Jamie leading the way walking backwards. Toni was ready with three candy canes to hand them when they arrived.

“Merry Christmas Beauchamps, and Auntie Gi.” Toni winked.

“Ah, before ye go,” Jamie said, reaching around the counter and producing a little gift bag. “Merry Christmas, Sassenach.” He handed Claire the bag, his cheeks flushing red. “From the stables,” he added quickly.

Claire’s brow furrowed, but she couldn’t help the tiny smile that graced her face. “Thank you. Merry Christmas, Jamie.”

She peered up at him through her lashes, and her smile disappeared at the sight of the look he was giving her. It was that same look that she’d caught him sporting time and time again, yet she still hadn’t gotten used to it.

What is it?

And why does it take my breath away…?

“Ready to go?” Gillian snapped Claire out of her reverie.

“Yes, yes let’s go,” Claire stammered, smiling perhaps a bit too brightly. “Merry Christmas Toni, Erica.”

“Merry Christmas!” they called in unison.

“Say bye-bye, Faith! Say Merry Christmas!” Faith smiled and waved, then pulled on her hand.

“Onto McDonald’s,” Claire said to Gillian.

“Aye, another delicacy,” she teased.

As they sat in the drive-thru, Gillian’s phone went off, and a sly grin spread across her face.

“What?” Claire asked.

“She texted me already,” Gillian said.

“Who did?”

Gillian turned around the phone to show Claire the screen:

Hi there! It’s Toni!

Claire’s jaw dropped, scandalized. “When did you give her your number?”

“When ye were busy making heart eyes at the Scot,” Gillian smirked and then quickly composed a response.

“I was not making heart eyes,” Claire said vehemently, inching the car forward and rolling down the window.

“Keep telling yerself that.”

——

McDonald’s eaten and milkshakes empty, the three of them were sitting under a blanket again watching Lilo and Stitch. They all brushed their teeth together, and Faith insisted on being tucked in by Gillian. Once that was all settled, Claire and Gillian sat on the couch again together, knowing they could stay up a bit later since Claire didn’t work tomorrow.

“Well? Ye havena opened it yet.” Gillian nudged her head toward the coffee table, where the little bag that Jamie had given Claire was still sitting.

“Oh. I’d forgotten about it,” Claire said, which was a blatant lie. She hadn’t stopped thinking about it since the moment he held it out to her. Truth be told, she was scared to open it. She hesitantly took it in her hands and opened the bag, removing layers of tissue paper.

She couldn’t help the stupid grin that spread wide across her entire face as she pulled out the contents. A bag of Lindt truffles, and a large back of sour patch kids. There was a festive post-it-note stuck to the truffles that said:

To make up for the candy corn. Merry Christmas, Sassenach.

Claire felt her entire face flush red, and her pulse began to race.

“Candy corn? What does that mean?” Gillian prodded.

“He, uh…he made me try candy corn, Halloween week,” Claire stammered. “I hated it, and he asked what kind of candy I do like.”

“Oh my God.” Gillian shoved her shoulder roughly. “Oh my God, Claire! Holy shite!”

“What…? What? Stop it!” Claire shoved her back and put the candy on the coffee table. “It’s just a joke. Relax.”

Gillian gaped at her in disbelief, then shook her head. “I was joking — well, half-joking — when I texted ye back in October, but God!”

“What?”

“How’s the sex?”

Claire’s eyes widened, and she leaned back in shock. “What sex?”

“With Fraser!”

“Jesus bloody Christ! There is no sex!” Claire’s face was hot as hell again, her mouth dry. “There’s no anything! He’s Faith’s therapist!”

“He’s givin’ ye sweets and gifts and ye’re no’ even putting out?” Gillian leaned back into the couch, crossing her arms. “Christ, he must really like you.”

“For fuck’s sake…” Claire scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re mad.” 

Claire threw the bag on the coffee table, but it landed a little faster than an empty bag should have.

“Is there something still in there?” Gillian said, snatching it at once and plunging her hand inside.

“Gi, stop, stop it! Let me have it!”

Gillian pulled out a hair bow, and her eyes narrowed. “What the Devil?”

“Let me see.” Claire took it from her, and her jaw went slack with realization.

“What?”

“It’s tartan,” Claire said. “The tartan from the clan in Brave.”

“What would ye want wi’ that?” Gillian scoffed.

“It’s not for me…” Claire said, her voice breathy. “It’s for Faith.”

Realization hit Gillian like a bolt of lightning. “Halloween. He wore tartan, and she dressed up from…”

“From Brave,” Claire finished with her.

“Bloody hell…” Gillian said. “He really, really likes ye.”

Claire swallowed thickly against the dryness in her throat, vainly attempting to wet her lips. Her head was spinning, and she could hardly breathe.

“Claire?”

“Well,” Claire said, her voice sounding more strained than she would have liked it to. “As much as I love the Disney movies, how about you and I watch a big-girl movie, hm?” Claire smiled, getting off the couch and retrieving a bottle of wine from the kitchen. “With some big-girl juice?”

Gillian giggled, apparently deciding to not push the subject any further. “Alright. But I’m picking the movie.”

——

Their first Christmas in their new home was nothing short of perfect. Claire had only requested two specific days off for the entire year: Christmas Day, and Faith’s birthday.

Gillian’s present to Claire had already been opened the night before, after Claire had showered from her long shift at the hospital. It was a matching set of Christmas pajamas, with a card that said:

Take this as a promise that we’ll always be together for the holiday.

They cried on each other for a few minutes before donning the pajamas, taking several pictures together in Claire’s full length mirror in her bedroom.

They slept in them and kept them on for presents, just as festive as Faith in her Disney Christmas nightgown. Claire’s present to Gillian was a Long Island t-shirt. Gillian had made a hobby of collecting stupid tourist t-shirts wherever she visited, and Claire had spent plenty of time finding the most touristy Long Island shirt she could.

Faith was beyond thrilled with every single Christmas present she received: her first dollhouse (from Santa), little sets of furniture and little dolls for the dollhouse (from Mummy), and a Merida Barbie doll from Auntie Gi. Claire also decided to give Faith the tartan bow on Christmas morning, handing it to her, saying:

“Look, lovie, another Merida present. This one is from Mister Jamie.”

Never one to be patient, Faith demanded that Claire put the bow in her hair at once, as Auntie Gi was struggling to free the dollhouse from its packaging.

Once Faith was satisfied that every present had been opened and arranged to her heart’s content, they moved into the kitchen to devour the edible arrangement of fruit that Gillian had insisted on getting for Christmas breakfast. Back in the day, Frank made festive pancakes for Christmas morning, and Gillian was determined to start traditions of their own.

Fruit eaten, it was time to start on the Christmas cookies. Claire had purchased several Christmas themed cookie-cutters a few weeks ago, so the three of them made a wide assortment of characters across a wide spectrum of colors. Claire had also bought food dye to use in vanilla icing, so Faith was free to let her creativity run wild, as if she were making edible crafts. All the while, Christmas music played from Claire’s phone, and Faith was humming along and bouncing all day.

Gillian was a slightly better cook than Claire was, so they tag teamed getting the small ham cooked all the way through, along with the green bean casserole (which Faith would not touch with a ten foot pole; she was fine with just ham and applesauce, thank you very much).

Mrs. Lickett had the rest of the holiday week off until the day after New Year’s, and Faith was more than happy to spend the extra time with Gillian. Mary Hawkins had sent Claire a Facebook invitation for a New Year’s party a few weeks ago, and she’d only recently responded that she’d be going. She was uncertain of taking Faith somewhere so crowded, but Mary made it very clear in the description of the event that it would be sensory-friendly. Joe had asked her one day at work if she had any plans for the New Year, surely meaning to invite her over if she didn’t, and Claire felt a strange sense of teenage-like pride in informing him that she did.

Claire’s shift ended at eight, which was exactly when Mary’s party started, so they were only about thirty minutes late. Mary was delighted to have Gillian as well. Despite Mary’s emphasis on a sensory-friendly party, Claire brought Faith’s noise cancelling headphones just in case. Despite the lack of noisemakers, music, or loud television, the constant hum of several voices was making Faith a bit distraught, so Claire put the headphones on her, and after a few minutes of getting used to her silence, she was content again.

Claire was pleased to see a lot of moms she recognized, including Fanny, Kezzie and Josiah running about with Thomas. She was introduced to Mary’s husband, Alex, almost as young as she was. Apparently, Thomas had been a happy accident when they were both still teenagers, and they got married right then. They were quite a sweet couple. 

When midnight came, hats and silent paper party-blowers were passed around. The tellie was kept low, and the countdown was done in hushed whispers. The only sound to be heard as the ball dropped was the crinkling of the party-blowers, a few scattered “Yay!”s, and jovial “Happy New Year!”s all around. Faith was quite content watching the paper curl in and out as she blew, giggling every time.

It wasn’t long after that when Faith started falling asleep, along with most of the other kids, all except Thomas. He was still bouncing off the walls somehow. Mary had given Claire a heartfelt thank you for coming, as did Alex. Claire felt as giddy and fulfilled as she had when they’d left the Abernathy home after Thanksgiving.

“That’s a great bunch,” Gillian said as they buckled themselves in.

“Yes…it really is.”

——

The following day while Claire was at work, Gillian had started to pack, being that her flight was on January second, but she didn’t get very far. Evidently, Faith immediately registered that packing meant that Auntie Gi would be leaving soon, and she was quite irritable and weepy for most of the day. She was inconsolable for the most part, only content when she was hanging onto Gillian or sitting in front of the tellie for a few moments of respite with a movie. She hardly touched her food that night, and when Claire had tried to get her to eat, she’d roughly shoved her plate across the table. Claire had permitted Gillian to be the one to give her a stern talking to; eventually she ate enough to satisfy Claire, and Gillian sat with her until she fell asleep.

Gillian returned to the living room to find Claire trying to rearrange her suitcase so it would actually close. She spent a few minutes trying to help, before they both ended up sitting on it in order to zipper it shut.

Gillian sighed. "Puir wee thing thinks she's miserable. I dinna want to leave either."

Claire draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in until their heads were resting together, not wanting to speak how she felt, lest she burst into tears.

“Can I ask ye something, Claire? And can ye promise me ye’ll be honest?”

“Of course,” Claire said, releasing her so they could look at each other. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing wrong, or maybe there is. I don’t know.” She sighed. “Ye ken I’ve been seeing Toni, aye?”

Claire shook her head jerkily, blinking in shock. “Um, no, I don’t ken! When have you been doing that?”

“After you and Faith are asleep.” She shrugged, as if it were the most casual thing in the world. “I got an Uber and met her somewhere the first time, now she just picks me up and takes me right to her place. She’s actually quite — ”

“Please, spare me,” Claire interjected quickly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you, of course, but I have to see her interact with my child once a week for the rest of forever.”

“Alright, alright.” Gillian put her hands up in surrender, giggling. “That wasna the point anyway. We dinna just have sex, we talk as well.”

“Well, I should hope,” Claire said wryly. “Be rather awkward otherwise.”

“Och, enough, ye wee prude.” Gillian shoved her arm. “What I’m trying to get at is that you have come up in conversation.”

“Me? In what context?”

“In ‘the Scot has the hots’ context.”

“Oh, Christ, Gi, not this again…”

“I’m serious, Claire,” Gillian said, her eyes widening, no joking in her tone at all. “I brought it up as a joke, ye know me. But then she just rattled off all these things…I’m no’ the only one who sees it. That’s all.”

“Sees what?”

“Are ye daft, woman?” Gillian blinked in disbelief, and then sighed exasperatedly.

“You haven’t asked me a question yet, you know,” Claire said defensively, crossing her arms. “That’s how you opened this conversation.”

“Alright. Fine. Why did ye no’ tell me he was at yer bloody apartment?” Gillian said flatly.

Claire stammered for a moment. “It didn’t seem at all important! Toni told you about that as well?”

“Aye, she did. Didna mean anything by it, just came up in conversation.”

“Right, in conversation about me.”

“Dinna get all fiery on me, Claire. It wasna all about you. She talked as much about Jamie.”

Claire was about to fire back again, but she quickly realized that Gillian was right; she was getting overly defensive and angry, something Gillian was never shy about calling her out on.

“Really. Why didn’t ye tell me?” Gillian asked again, softly.

“It wasn’t conscious…it just didn’t come up.” Claire started picking at a cuticle, focusing her vision there instead of on Gillian.

“Because ye didna want it to come up. Right?”

“It seemed…private. I don’t know. It wasn’t…like you think. Or like she thinks.” Claire hissed in pain at what she was doing to her finger, and Gillian swatted at her hand to make her stop.

“Toni says he makes all these exceptions fer Faith, bendin’ over backwards to make her happy.”

Claire’s head started spinning. “He’s just…being kind.”

“Aye, Claire,” Gillian chuckled. “Because he likes you. A lot more than I even thought.”

“That’s…that’s ridiculous.” Claire shook her head. “My child is his client.”

“Toni says it’s no’ the same as a regular therapist — ”

“Gillian, please…” Claire interrupted, a bit more forcefully than she meant to. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do. Really, I do. You’re my best friend, I get it. And I love you for it. But this…” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her thighs. “I don’t need this. I don’t need you to play matchmaker like we did in college.”

“Claire…”

“It’s alright, Gi. I’m not angry, I promise. I just…” She sighed. “I don’t need…I don’t need to be rescued anymore. Do you know what I mean? These past few months, just me and Faith…god, I’ve never felt so good about myself. I mean, hell, I’ve had doubt upon doubt creep into my mind, and not every day is good. But she is thriving here, and so am I. I don’t have to explain myself or my parenting to anyone anymore. And…fuck, Gi, I love it. I finally feel like…like I’m doing right by her.” She was surprised to feel the tears in her eyes, and she swallowed to keep them at bay. “For four years of her life, I was this…shell of myself. And god damn it, I pulled myself out of that. I know I had your help, always, and now I have Mrs. Lickett, and the Abernathy’s, and the whole community at the stables…but I did this. For her…and now I realize it was for me, too.”

Gillian put a hand on Claire’s knee. “I understand, hen.”

Claire nodded. “Jamie is incredibly kind, and thoughtful, and he’s done a lot for us. But it’s not what you think, and I don’t need…what you think it is. Faith doesn’t need that. She needs me. I need me. Am I…making any sense?”

“Ye are. Ye dinna have to explain yerself to me, Claire. I’m sorry,” Gillian said sheepishly. “Ye know me. Canna keep my neb out of anyone’s business. Least of all yers.”

Claire offered a tiny smile, then laid her head onto her shoulder. “Will you be seeing your American lover for one final tryst before you depart?”

Gillian snorted. “Nae, we’ve already said our goodbyes. Keeping it casual, ye ken. She’s just out of a relationship and all that.”

“Right. Well I’m glad you had that, however brief. Been a while since you’ve been with a woman, hasn’t it?”

“Aye, ye’re right! I was feeling starved for female affection after years of male disappointment!”

Claire guffawed loudly, and they both dissolved into a fit of giggles that carried into the wee hours of the morning.

[death-himself]

Hidden in Shadows—Chapter 6

Summary: Thomas's life was perfectly normal until his children started talking about this new big brother they have. He doesn't know what to do, this was never mentioned in those childcare books he read

Word Count: 1,101

Warnings: A bit of arguing, fluff and a confused dad (also Patton cries for a little bit but he’s ok)

previous next (AO3 Link)

It was a strange adjustment to make, having humans around that seemed to actually enjoy his presence. He definitely would never get used to them seeing him in the shadows and just casually pulling him out like it was normal.

Virgil watched from the shadows as the four humans ate dinner. Logan had been talking about something that had happened at school, which had somehow led to an argument between him and Roman about horses. Mr. Sanders was trying his best to keep the peace, but the two just kept getting louder and louder.

Patton pouted at the two before his gaze drifted from Logan to the shadows behind him where Virgil resided. Virgil smirked, glancing at their dad to ensure he wouldn’t see him, then waving at Patton. The toddler giggled, waving back. Mr. Sanders furrowed his brow, following Patton’s gaze. Virgil quickly hid within the shadows again, unseen by the visibly confused father. He bit back a snicker. God, it’s gonna be fun messing with him. Patton went back to pouting at Logan and Roman. 

“Virgey heard you two fighting an’ he doesn’t like it!” He spoke loudly, giving his brothers a stare that looked hilariously stern for a five-year-old. Roman and Logan blinked at him for a moment, before Roman huffed and resigned, crossing his arms indignantly. This only made their poor father even more confused.

“Who’s “Virgey”?”

“He’s our big brother!” Patton chirped. Virgil covered his mouth, his body trembling with laughter. Time to confuse the shit out of him. He watched as Mr. Sanders looked frantically between Logan and Roman, as if trying to guess which of Patton’s older brothers was nicknamed Virgey. “How, uh...how old is he, Patty?”

“I believe he said he was fifteen,” Logan spoke instead. Virgil watched as Mr. Sanders’s eyes widened, leaning forward as he stared at Logan. “You have a fifteen-year-old brother.” He stated. Logan nodded. “You don’t know him, but he stays here a lot.” Mr. Sanders stared, letting out a small, almost delirious laugh, shaking his head a bit.

“So he saw you two arguing? What’s he gonna do?” He spoke up after a moment, apparently deciding to just go along with it.

Roman groaned. “He’ll probably tell us not to fight and get along or something annoying like that.”

“Do you not recall when I told him someone hit me at school and he told me to kill them?” Logan pointed out.

“Well yeah, he had a point!”

“He gave me a detailed explanation on how to murder them! Along with all the gross details!” Virgil watched as their father’s face grew more and more horrified as they argued, holding back the laughter at the poor man’s confusion. Mr. Sanders silently stood up, taking everyone’s plates and heading into the kitchen to wash them. Curious, Virgil followed, slipping into the shadows next to the fridge to watch him.

He was staring blankly down into the sink, unmoving. He took a deep breath, blinking out of his daze and shaking his head. He chuckled to himself. “They just made an imaginary friend, that’s all.” He said, as if trying to convince himself. “Kids always have imaginary friends at this age. This is normal. They just happened to make a...collective imaginary brother. Who’s five years older than Roman.” He paused. “This is normal!” He chuckled to himself, slowly getting to washing the plates and cleaning up. If Virgil hadn’t found this whole situation so hilarious he would’ve felt bad for the guy.

Virgil headed back to the dinner table, seeing that Roman and Logan had ended their light argument with a small huff and Roman sticking his tongue out at him. He looked around the room, eyes passing over Virgil’s hiding spot before doing a quick double-take.

“I was right though, right, Doom and Gloom?”

“Right about what?”

“About the horses!” He shouted, as if offended that Virgil may have forgotten.

“Oh. Yeah, they’re more than just noble steeds knights ride into battle with.” Logan grinned. “See? I was right.”

“Yeah, in some cultures they eat them.” Patton blinked, before tears started forming in his eyes. “Not the horsies…” he whimpered.

“Oh shit—Pat, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay!” Virgil crouched in front of the toddler, frantically trying to comfort him. He then heard Mr. Sanders’s footsteps coming back. He glanced at the doorway nervously, before pulling Patton closer for a quick hug, rubbing a circle into his back. He pulled away, slipping into the shadows as their father came in.

“Pat? Hey, what’s wrong, bud?”

“Virgil told him that some people eat horses and he started crying.” Logan stated, watching as Mr. Sanders came over and picked up Patton. He gave Logan a confused look, before taking a deep breath and holding Patton closer.

“Well, uh...that’s not a very nice thing to tell a five year old who loves horses…” he spoke softly, looking down at Logan.

“Tell Virgil that it wasn’t nice then. I didn’t say anything bad!” Mr. Sanders blinked, looking around awkwardly.

“Uh, yeah, of course. My bad.” He looked around for a moment longer, before choosing a place near the kitchen to be where Virgil was standing. Virgil watched as the man turned his back to him and began berating him.

“Now listen here, young man,” he began with the confidence of someone who just tripped onto the stage during a performance, “it’s not nice to tell someone Patton’s age about these kinds of things. Especially—“

“Dad, you’re looking the wrong way. Virgil’s over there!” Roman pointed at Virgil, much to his father’s very well hidden annoyance. Patton let out a small giggle. Mr. Sanders took it as an excuse to get out of this situation.

“There. Feeling better, Patty-Cake?” Patton nodded, burrowing his head closer into his dad’s chest. “That’s good.” He smiled down at Patton, before turning back to his kids.

“So, who wants to watch a movie before bed?” Roman’s eyes lit up. “Me! I do!” He raced into the living room, already intent on being the one to choose the movie. Virgil followed him in, coming out of the shadows with a grin. “Well, well, well, looks like I avoided punishment.”

Roman picked up a pillow from the couch and wacked him in the leg. “You won’t for long!” He wacked him again, giggling as he shouted, “Take that! Ha ha!”

Virgil held back a snicker, pretending to die and slowly falling on the couch. Just as Roman was about to climb onto him, Mr. Sanders walked through the door, and Virgil was gone into the shadows again.

[ayma-nidiot]

The Ride - Sylvix fic Chapter 23

Also on AO3.

Trigger warning for alcohol/getting drunk. Next chapter will feature hangovers.

Chapter 23 – Camaraderie

“Your Highness, before you go…” A soldier Dimitri had not seen before approached. “I have an urgent message from Margrave Gautier. He’s helped to resolve the conflict in Faerghus.”

“Excellent. Now that the internal squabbles between nobles are done with, we need only focus on taking Enbarr.”

“Hehehe… That’s my old man.”

“Lord Sylvain! Sir, it’s good to see you’re well, like the margrave himself.”

“Hehehe… Likewise.”

“And I must apologize… I should have delivered the bad news first.”

“Bad news?” Dimitri asked.

“Margrave Gautier says he’s captured a man claiming to be involved in the Tragedy of Duscur, and he only wants to meet you at the monastery.”

“I see… Then we need to get going.”

“Your Highness.”

“Sylvain? You look like you’ve got something to say.”

Sylvain paused a while before telling Dimitri, “I know this may be a bit much to ask, but want to speak with Miklan. Can you bring him here, please?”

 “If you insist.” Dimitri showed a brief amazement but didn’t hesitate to give the order.

“What, you found that… that filth’s corpse?” The Gautier soldier asked.

“Nope, I’m as alive as ever, sadly for you!” Miklan laughed when of Dimitri’s men dragged him outside before Sylvain.

“No… No, it can’t be! What will the margrave say?”

“We’ll wait for that when the time comes,” answered Sylvain. “Now that he’s out here, though… Dimitri, please release him.”

“Are… Are you sure?”

Ignoring the reactions of everyone around him, Sylvain continued while looking at the Gautier soldier, “Of course I am. This man nearly singlehandedly took down the Death Knight. Surely we should give him some reward for that?”

“Very well. Since you’re the respected son of Margrave Gautier, this will be how I return the favour.” Dimitri nodded as a sign to undo Miklan’s chains.

“Hmph.” The Gautier soldier still wasn’t convinced that Miklan had turned over a new leaf. “Don’t think that you’re completely free from punishment. Just wait until the margrave himself is through with you.”

“Hehehe…” Miklan waved as the soldier walked off, and everyone else prepared to return to the monastery. “Same to you, buddy.”

“Miklan, wait! Humph. What an ingrate.” Sylvain attempted to stop Miklan in his tracks. But for some reason, he wanted to avoid him, and so the younger brother let it go for now – but not without seeing a crack of a smile on Miklan’s face.

Sylvain didn’t find locating Miklan – or any of his comrades – any easier when he got to the monastery a week later, either. He could feel the gravity of the upcoming battles as he – along with Mercedes and Byleth – paid a visit to the graveyard. And yet through it all, there were those like Annette, Ingrid, and Dorothea who wanted to dwell on happy thoughts as they strolled about the marketplace.

Of course, he knew just where to find his fiancé. But that didn’t stop Sylvain from lamenting, wishing he could find Felix somewhere other than the training grounds. Knowing him, Sylvain reluctantly picked up an ordinary lance as he headed there.

“Dammit, Felix…” Sylvain whined when he reached the training grounds doors. “You’ve got plenty of time to train… Ever hear of a little thing called- Oh? There’s someone else training in here at this hour? But whom? It’s probably Caspar or Raphael… In that case, I better stay out of the way and just wait until they’re done.”

Curious to find out who was daring enough to challenge Felix to a duel, Sylvain hid behind a crate and peered to the right of it.

“You’re… not too bad with the lance,” Felix commented of his sparring partner’s prowess. “Keep it up, and you’ll not only meet your father’s expectations – you’ll surpass them.”

It’s not like Felix to give others compliments… Sylvain thought. And the only ones I know who are that good with the lance are Dimitri, Ingrid, and-

“And you’re going to be a fine soldier of Fraldarius, yourself.”

No way… Miklan?! Sylvain was so shocked at the sound of Miklan’s voice that he came out of hiding. “Miklan? What are you doing here?”

“What else do you expect me to do at the training grounds, ballroom dance?”

“But why with Felix specifically?”

“…Okay, if you must know, it’s because I’ve got a long way if I want to be as good at using the Lance of Ruin as you are. And who better to train with than your fiancé, Felix?”

“So does this mean that you accept House Gautier again?”

“Who can say?” Miklan put his lance on a rack with many others used for training. “Depends on what our old man has to say about it.”

“Oh, and one more thing before we call it a night… Uh, I just… wanted… Ugh, I just wanted to say thank you for helping me is all! Even though I nearly dropped you in a well when we were kids.”

“Miklan, right now that’s completely asinine-”

“Not just that…” Miklan continued while the three of them walked out of the training grounds. “Thank you for showing me a little mercy, even though I don’t deserve it. Maybe as a token of thanks, I can treat you guys to drinks at the dining hall?”

“Hm… I’d rather not,” Felix answered. “But I’ll be more than happy to take Sylvain’s drunken ass back to his quarters. And maybe yours too, Miklan.”

“Sylvain, consider this… my way of sparring with you.”

“Is that a challenge? If that’s the case, then I’m down for it!”

“Ooh, a drinking contest?” Caspar had overheard. “I’ll win that!”

“The biggest one here – me – will!” Raphael declared.

“Sounds interesting… I think I’ll try, too.” Ingrid had just come back from the marketplace with Dorothea, Mercedes, and Annette.

“Goodness, we’ve attracted quite a crowd…” Sylvain shook his head as he barged the door open to the dining halls and shouted, “Head chef, I hope you’ve got enough booze for twenty.”

“Oh, Lord Sylvain!” One of the all-female bartenders that night – a pretty woman from Gautier – noticed her lord and his posse and started washed a wine glass. “What will it be tonight?”

Sylvain counted himself – and Miklan – lucky that this woman and the mostly common clientele that night didn’t recognize his older brother. “The petit sirah, please.”

“Ditto!” Miklan placed an enormous satchel of gold on the counter. “And did I mention I’m paying for all of this?”

“Then I’ll pay for the tip!” Caspar added a slightly smaller satchel. Eager to prove himself again, he took all the bottles of wine while Sylvain, Raphael, and Miklan carried the glasses.

“I… think I’ll have some, too,” spoke Mercedes as she started pouring herself some wine.

“Mercie, hold on! You can’t hold your alcohol… can you?”

“Hehe! You’d be surprised, Annie.”

“Then… I gotta join, too!” Annette turned around. “You’ll help carry us back to our quarters, right?”

“You can count on me!” Ashe replied.

As the contest started in earnest – and several participants had passed out already - Dedue mumbled, “Tch. What beasts. I just hope they don’t do this right before the march to Enbarr.”

“Dedue, they’re just trying to have a sense of camaraderie,” Dimitri answered. “Yes, training is important, but I want my soldiers to relax and trust one another. Otherwise, how can I expect the army morale to hold up? Even if this kind of get-together isn’t your thing, I would really love to see you interact with the others more.”

“Your Highness…”

“I don’t mean just barking commands at them, either! And… This is a request, not an order.”

“Annette…” Ashe grew concerned about Annette and her fourth glass of wine. “You don’t have to push yourself for something so… silly, you know.”

“Oh?” Annette seemed completely unaffected. “If I were you, I’d be a bit more nervous about the Gautier brothers, Caspar, and Raphael… I mean, look at them.”

“Maaaan!” Caspar slurred after the party had moved on to an even stronger wine. “It’s a good think that meanie Seteth ain’t here.. Hiccup! Barkeep, get us some more!”

“I don’t suppose you distracted him and Flayn with one of your juvenile tricks again?” Raphael asked Sylvain.

“Hahaha, what?” Miklan had hardly said anything since the contest began; already, he started feeling tipsy. “Heeeeey… Did ya all know that my baby brother Sylvain and Felix are-”

Though he was as drunk as drunk could be, Sylvain would not let Miklan spill the beans in Dimitri’s presence, and flicked him on the head. “Dumbarse, don’t go gossipin’ about others, ya hear?”

“Ow!” Miklan had black out thanks to that playful attack, while Sylvain showed absolutely no shame in what he did.

“Nyah nyah! You lost! How does it feel… to be the one who hosted this shebang and still lose!” Raphael intended to get up and mock Miklan further. Yet upon pushing his chain in, he discovered too late that he couldn’t stay awake anymore.

“Speaking of juvenile tricks…” Sylvain attempted to lift up his sixth glass of wine.

Right then and there, Felix decided that his fiancé had had enough. “Sylvain. You’re done.”

“Yooooo, Feeelix! You want some?”

“Oh, I want some. I want some sense knocked into you!” Felix grabbed Sylvain and Miklan, hoisted their arms around his shoulders. Then, turning for the door and dragging him, he said, “This clown is done.”

“Aww, come on, I wanna win! Let me go back!” Sylvain begged as they now entered the second floor.

“Can you stop talking for two seconds before I pass out from your disgusting breath?” Felix growled, dropping Miklan in Edelgard’s old room, then leaving for Sylvain’s room.

“Hehehe… To think, if I had hit on Edelgard all those years ago, Miklan would be sleeping in the stables with all the horsies!”

It was at that moment that Felix had decided he had enough of this drunken behaviour, and nearly tossed Sylvain on his bed like a basketball. “Sylvain.”

“Yeah, what?”

Felix sat down on the bed and spoke to Sylvain in a calmer – but still serious – matter. “You’re going to have to change this behaviour when we get married. You’re going to tear your liver open if you drink like that every day.”

“Eh? Who says I drink like this every day? I’ll have you know that I normally only drink a glass of wine every other day.”

Felix knew this to be true, turning to an even kinder tone. “I’m just… worried, you know? I want the man I love to live a long time.”

“Aww, how cute…” Sylvain hugged Felix from behind when he was distracted and grabbed at his crotch.

“No.” Felix got up immediately. “I’m not so horny as to take advantage of a drunk. You shouldn’t do it, either.”

Sylvain accepted this refusal with a smile. “Oh, I won’t. Because I love you too much and I won’t let you die early, especially for something horrible like getting drunk.”

Felix blushed slightly before turning to go to his own room. “W-Will you be okay by yourself tonight?”

“Yeah, I’ll call you if I need anything. We’re neighbors, after all.”

“And I’ll probably be the first to hear your obnoxious voice… Have a good night, Sylvain.”