#but like I come from the family of the Beloved Daughter In Law for my Italian grandfather and lemme tell ya

[seaglassmelody]

Ok so people like to mull over the idea of Rook either having to earn Caterina’s favor or have to avoid her meddling in their relationship with Lucanis but as someone with an Italian grandparent with a favorite child

Imagine Rook as Caterina’s favorite. They rescued Lucanis. They protected House Dellamorte from Illario’s bad plan with the Venatori but still left him alive. They clearly have a knack for not only survival but protecting their people.

Rook as the one Caterina dotes on compared to Lucanis. She’s not technically First Talon anymore. Now she’s just a grandmother with an in-law! She can dote however she wants!

[just-some-random-blogger]

Snow Angel

Daemon's Version

I'll angel in the snow until I'm worthy but if it kills me, I tried.

Gwyane's Version ❄ Daemon's Version ❄ Aegon's Version ❄ Aemond's Version ❄ Jacaerys' Version ❄ Cregan's Version ❄ Criston's Version

Daemon Targaryen x Snow!Reader | 700< | cw: fem!reader, reader is Lord Rickon Stark's bastard daughter, canon divergence, angst, violence, blood, war, death, typos, etc.

A/N: renee rapp my beloved

Though you were his wife by law, you were not by heart.

It did not hurt you, at least not anymore. You understood your place. You understood your duty; your duty was to your house, to your family, to him.

This was how you found yourself in the crosshairs of peril.

Daemon had been lost for days on end. He'd not given word ever since his proclamation to seize Harrenhal for the Queen— for his niece, his beloved niece. You knew why he was so eager to act. He so badly wanted to win Rhaenyra's favor.

They had not seen eye to eye lately, and one could say it was your fault. You were getting in the middle of their relationship, you, his wife. It felt as though there was not a soul in Westeros who did not know of their relations, and yet even in that blatant shame, not once did you ever bring it up to your husband.

Not once.

Why?

Because he saved you when you were wed. You had been promised to an old lord known to be a wife beater. You were told that it was the best match you would ever get, but then you caught the interest of the prince of Dragonstone, even if for a fleeting moment.

You thought that what you had was akin to desire, if not love, but it seems he only married you to spite someone that truly stoked such a thing within him. And now, you were sent to the North to remind your half brother of House Stark's pledge to that person, to Queen Rhaenyra. Your kin did not take kindly to that. But it was not Cregan that found offence in your appearance, but his men, some five of them.

Daemon dreams about this in Harrenhal. He dreams of five direwolves pulling you apart, limb from limb. He wakes up in a cold sweat because of it. When he rouses with word that a raven came telling of the conditions of his wife, he did not need to read its contents to be inspired to saddle Caraxes.

He makes his dragon land inside Winterfell and demands, "WHERE IS MY WIFE?!"

Cregan runs and meets him once he dismounted, leading him to your room.

His expression falls when he sees you. You were badly cut and beaten. You looked like you were ready to greet the Stranger. He grabs Cregan by his furs and hisses, "where are the men that did this?"

"I've sent them to the Wall," Stark raises a hand, indicating he did not want to fight.

"The Wall?" he shoves him away, "their heads should be on a sp-"

"They are my men. I will do with them as-"

"They outnumbered and ambushed my wife! You think they deserve the honor of keeping their heads?!"

Daemon was about to draw Dark Sister, until he heard a soft voice call his name. He turns to you, catching the way you stirred, and immediately comes to your side.

You weakly reach out a hand and he takes it. He is warm, a complete opposite to you. You feel lethargic but you manage to pull your lips into a semblance of a smile. You whisper, "you've come."

Your husband stares at you. He clutches your hand in both of his.

You rub his skin with your thumb.

He shakes his head, "I will exact your injuries of your attackers. They will regret the day they left their mothers' cunts."

You no longer have the energy to respond. You weakly smile at him before closing your eyes.

He stays with you until you fall asleep. He stay with you until he is told your eyes would no longer open again. He had to be subdued before he killed the maester that announced the news.

Cregan could do little to stop the prince and Caraxes from flying off to the Wall. He all but threatened to burn the whole of it down if your attackers did not come forth. And when they do, Daemon tells them to fight him or be fed to his dragon.

And so the fools attacked him, and were slain, and were fed to his dragon anyway. He flies back to Harrenhal after, and you haunt him in his dreams.

[penkura]

Plz do a Husband corazon + child Law for mother's day 💐💛

Y E S omg I love Corazon, he'd be such a great husband and father. 🥺 On par or even better than Sanji imo.

I hope you don't mind that Corazon and the Reader have a biological daughter as well, I just thought it would be cute!! I also made this a modern AU one, because damn it, Corazon deserved to be happy. :'(

(Note: This is out of order from all requests simply due to the theme. I have made progress on the others!)

Corazon would have a whole plan, partly put together by thirteen-year-old Law and your toddler, Evangeline. Your daughter would draw you a card, while Corazon and Law focused on making you breakfast and of course, it would go all kinds of wrong.

You wake up to hushed shouting between your husband and adoptive son, Law telling Corazon he's going to burn the bacon and to stop smoking while he cooks. Your husband retorts that it's fine, nothing bad is going to happen. He's not going to set anything on fire, unlike at Christmas. For a few minutes you lay there on your phone, listening to your family down the hall. Evangeline eventually comes into your bedroom, pulling on your blanket and calling for you to pay attention to her.

“Mommy, mommy!”

You roll over and lift her up into your bed, giving her a tight hug while she laughs and returns it. What a joy she is, that last nearly three years have been a blessing with her and Law around, you wouldn’t change it for the world. Yes, some people have given your small family odd looks—what are two twenty-six-year-olds doing with a toddler and a teenager?—but you’ve learned to tune them out and ignore them. It didn’t matter what others thought, they could assume you’d had a teen pregnancy all they wanted. It wasn’t the truth, but some wouldn’t even listen or believe you. After all, you’d tried to explain it to your coworkers when you and Corazon adopted Law just before Evangeline was born, but even those close to you didn’t understand it.

“What’ve you got there, Evie?”

“Your gift!” She beams at you and holds the card she’d made out, the biggest grin on her little face. Just as planned, it’s a card she scribbled together, you can recognize your husband’s handwriting to make the words legible, but it’s still adorable that she tried so hard to make you something. There’s a cute little drawing of your family in the card, making you smile and hug her again,

“Thank you, Evie! I—” you’re stopped by the smell of smoke before the smoke detector goes off and kick off your blanket, running down the hall with your daughter in your arms and hearing Law yell that everything is fine, though you’re at the kitchen doorway before he finishes speaking. “What is happening?!”

Law turns to you and points at Corazon, who is waving a towel over the completely burnt bacon to try and get the smoke and smell out the window. “He burned breakfast again!”

“Not like you were helping, little shi—” Corazon stops himself when you send him a glare and cover Evangeline’s ears, shaking your head at him. After the one time she said ‘bastard’, you’d been very watchful of what words were said in your house, “Look, it’s fine! We can salvage it!”

“No, we can’t! It’s burnt black!”

Corazon ignores Law’s complaints for the moment, coming over to kiss your forehead and smile at Evangeline. “Did you give mommy her card?”

“I did!”

“That’s my girl!” Evangeline giggles while Corazon turns back to kiss you as a proper good morning. “Happy Mother’s Day.”

“Thank you, beloved.”

You’re briefly interrupted by a fancy bouquet of flowers being shoved between the two of you, Law looking away shyly as he holds them there for you, his own gift for you for the day that makes you almost cry and heart ache. He’d been with you as your son for the last three years, but this was the first time he’d given you anything on this day. You’ll never truly take the place of his mother, like Corazon won’t really take his father’s place and Evangeline his sister’s, but you’re glad for the smallest bit of progress that has him viewing you all as his family, and you hope for him to continuing viewing you all in that light, even as he grows up and out of your home one day.

“…Happy Mother’s Day.”

Crouching down enough to be eye level with him, you give Law a kiss on the forehead and a smile.

“Thank you so much, Law. I love them.”

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Handle With Care - Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: Reader and Aaron meet for the first time before she starts as a full-time nanny for Jack.

Notes: Hopefully will be at least 5 parts! I'm excited to be writing again :)

Word Count: 4.6K

I always believed in new beginnings, but as I stood on Aaron’s doorstep, rolling a suitcase in one hand and a Vera Bradley duffel bag in the other, I was tempted to question my resolute thinking. It had yet to fail me. Not when I was hardly eighteen and living on the other side of the country, vying for my spot at the esteemed culinary arts program. And not when I’m twenty-four with a stint as the private chef

Professional chef turned nanny–for my father’s beloved mentee, no less. My parents, ever supportive and ever loving, practically held an intervention when I showed up on their suburban door step a fractured shell of the bubbly daughter they dropped off at the airport. 

Five years later, I’m sleeping in the same bed. I had nightmares about leaving once again. And yesterday I gave up that bed for a full-time position as Aaron Hotchner’s live-in nanny. Aaron, who I never even met, is my father’s protege. He knew him as a whip-smart, young lawyer from a family Law dynasty at Quantico. My father took him under his wing and even after his early retirement from the BAU they would get together for an annual work lunch. 

I was nearly finished with my final year of the Los Angeles Culinary Arts Program when my fathers called to say that Aaron’s wife was murdered. I remembered thinking how lucky Dad was and how brave Daddy had to be. With one day off saving the world and the other left to hold down the fort with an awfully anxious only child daughter. 

One year later, I was unemployed and completely blacklisted from the culinary entertainment industry for reasons beyond my control and without my fault. I gripped the suitcase, my chipped fingernails so jagged they punctured my skin. 

Aaron had a nice house with a manicured front lawn, a big wrap around porch, and a fully furnished backyard. Clearly, he was a man with a lot of education and a lot of smarts to top it off. He worked hard. It showed, these neighborhoods of Arlington, Virginia weren’t cheap. No wonder my dads were dying to relocate to Georgia. 

The door swung open before I could work up the courage to ring the bell or knock on the dark cherry wood. Aaron answered. He wore a dark green men’s quarter zip that was pushed up, showing off his forearms. His dark, charcoal gray watch shone as he let me into his foyer. 

He had a foyer.

And a house that smelt like warm cinnamon and musk. 

“Y/N,” Aaron said, nodding to me with a smile, “Please give me your bags. And we’ll go sit and chat before Jack comes. His grandma is still in town and brought him to the zoo.” 

I complied. There wasn’t a need for me to protest. And clearly, by the looks of those forearms, he would have no problem handling my bags. I only brought a single suitcase, a duffel, and five boxes of books. Aaron’s mother-in-law, Lorriane, had been staying with them since Haley died a year and a half ago. But her husband broke his hip. Apparently, Aaron had added a mother-in-law suite for Lorriane and judging by the looks of his home, the suite I’d be living in for the foreseeable future was twice the size of my studio in LA. 

“Thanks.” I said, grabbing a seat on the brown fabric sofa, “My dad said I had to say hello to you for him. He still raves about you. Like all the time.” I chuckle, watching as Aaron hands me a glass of iced tea. 

“Marty’s a good man. He and Gideon built the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Our team is in constant debt to him.” Aaron spoke so formally, gesturing for enthusiasm with his hands. 

“Yeah, well. He’s always just been dad to me.” I smiled, the man I knew showed up to my field hockey games even if it meant holding office hours there. He was the most there dad I could ask for– maybe it was neck in neck for the both of them. 

“So Jack?” I said, breaking the silence. “How–how’s he been?” I couldn’t help but wonder. My dads had a close friend who helped them with their surrogacy journey, so while I didn’t have a mother in the traditional sense, the woman who I’ m half of  was still alive and in my life. Debra was more like an aunt to me, fun and spirited and eternally youthful. But I still had her. 

Unlike Jack, who’s Earthly ties to his mother were shredded in an horribly violent way. 

My dad hardly ever cried, but when he called and told me that Aaron’s wife died I could hear it in his raw voice. Aaron’s a man cut from the same cloth a Dad; stoic and responsible. He was a wall of somber trepidation, but somewhere deep inside I could make out the man that wasn’t cataclysmically destroyed. 

“Jack is…he’s a strong kid. I put him in therapy after it happened. He still goes once a week. Laura, she’s his therapist. She’s wonderful. Truly has helped Jack work through all this.”

“That’s good. That’s really good, Mr. Hotchner. It seems as though Jack has a solid foundation here.” I say, unsure what to say exactly. I can make an omelet six different ways, yet it’s lost on me to know what to say to a widower with a little boy. If I had to bear even a fraction of their grief, I’m sure it would break me. I would crumble. But these two boys? They’re a good man in the storm. And I know in my bones, it’s entirely Aaron’s doing. If that man is anything, he’s steady. 

“It’s Aaron. Please, Mr. Hotchner reminds me of my father.” He cringes, the lines on his eyes creasing, “Your dad said you’re a professionally trained chef? Unfortunately, Jack’s still squarely in the dinosaur shaped chicken nugget and baked tater tots phase. It’s been a struggle to get him to try anything new…for…for awhile now, if I’m being honest.” 

I nod, thinking that Jack’s food discouragement might stem from losing his mom. “Well, the way I see it, Jack lost his mom at how old? Four and half? That’s when we’re starting to really know what we like and don’t like to eat. His life was turned upside down and shaken all around when you lost her. So maybe he needed some consistency in a world of chaos. Not that your home is chaotic, it’s lovely and clean and happy. It’s just…loss…”

“Losing your mother as a toddler really fucks up your life.” Aaron says. He speaks so definitely, as if he means everything so ardently you could cast it into stone. 

“Yeah.” I add, somberly. “But I think we can get him to branch out. Make it a game. I’d love to cook with him. I can get him kid-safe tools so he can be involved in food preparation and cooking. Oh! Maybe Jack and I can have a garden. I’m sure that will get him eating vegetables and fruits.” 

Aaron’s neutral expression slowly transitions to a soft smile. He thumps his fingers on the wooden table, as he looks out through the deck. I could feel him glance back at me and then to the yard again. 

“I think that a garden would be lovely over on the side. It’s far enough away from the pool and patio.” Aaron offers, sipping his tea. It’s sweet tea, too sweet for me. Working in kitchens throughout my program has trained me to not only tolerate black coffee, but to actively seek it out. He smiles, his grin defining his face. “Good idea.” 

I feel heat at his praise. I like doing well, who doesn't? But after a series of mishaps and bad luck, an 'atta' girl is my Hail Mary of the month. I simply nod. “Simple things to start so he can see some quick results. I’ll get him super involved in it. Make him feel like he’s a part of a team.” 

“I work a lot. My team flies across the nation, as you know. It takes me away from here for days on end. It was getting too much for Lorriane. And how her husband broke his hip.” Aaron shakes his head, “Honestly, you couldn’t have shown up here at a better time.” 

He runs his pointer finger over the water rung pooled on the coasters. “Jack’s a very easy kid. Reasonable. But shy. He was shy even before Haley…even before last year. I’ve brought him to the pediatrician because he stopped talking for a while, but she said that we’ve all survived an immense trauma and our brains simply process and live through that trauma differently.”

Sitting there, I couldn’t help but think how lucky this little boy is. His dad was running up the hill; pushing that boulder up and up and up for an eternity. It must be an awfully lot to carry, without anyone to share the load. 

“Yeah. I’m sure it is? Is he going into Kindergarten after the summer?” I ask, wondering if Jack went to Kindergarten on time or if Aaron and his grandma kept him home when they lost Haley. 

“Lori, Haley’s mother, taught preschool for thirty-five years. She told me to keep him home for a year, let him be a little bit older and get the help he needs to heal and then send him. So I listened. I think that was one of the only decisions I made as a team this year.” 

Sympathy must have colored my face because Aaron’s demeanor shifted quickly. He sat up, sipping his iced tea and wiping his hands on his jeans. “So basically your weekdays are around 8am-7:30pm. And occasionally on the weekends when the team does have to be on location But recently, I’ve been trying to transition to a more leadership position at headquarters. Hopefully, that’ll mean less traveling.” 

I quickly journaled the hours down in my notebook. Live-in nannying hours are not for those looking for a job to allow them the life of leisure. Naturally that couldn’t possibly be true for a position whose main coworker is a five and a half year old boy. 

“Alright. So that’s summer hours. We’ll need to brainstorm lots of stuff to do all day. Maybe the library?” I write a small note to get ideas and have them approved by Aaron.

He nodded, “Yes, summer hours are a lot, but Jack will be going to a couple camps that his therapist recommended. So you can get a couple hours each day to yourself. I am ready to compensate accordingly. Between my new role at the BAU and other personal investments, we live comfortably. How’s $2,500 to start and then we’ll discuss a raise in the future. And naturally your room and anything you may want to eat or have will be covered by me.” Aaron says it again in a way that leaves no room for argument. He must’ve been a great lawyer; no wonder dad adores him. 

“That’s quite a lot of money.” I’m shocked and my face does a horrible job of hiding it. “I’m not a professional nanny. I’m good with kids. Really good. But I don’t do this for a living. This is you doing me a favor because if it wasn’t for you, I’d be a waitress at my dads’ country clubs” I cringed, my mind instantly filtering in an image of me serving one-time sorority sisters bottomless mimosas for an Easter Brunch. 

“I apologize if you though that it was up for discussion, Y/N. Your first month’s pay will be $2,500 each week. And then it will increase to $3,250 each week. If I’m asking you to work 13 hour days plus one weekend a month? I better be paying you that much. And you’re still on Marty’s health insurance?” 

I rolled my eyes, of course dad mentioned that to Aaron and of course Aaron double checked. Aaron just might have Marty, JD beat when it comes to thoroughness. “Yeah, till I’m 26. And that’s like…a year and change away.” I say, implying that it’s not up to me, or Aaron even, to know how long I’ll be with him. I wasn’t sure if I would ever venture out to LA again; not after what happened that sent me back here for good.

But the thing about food is that everyone wants good food, no matter where they live. And right now, the ones that wanted something good in their lives, lived in a lovely Colonial home on Moss Avenue. 

“I guess there’s no arguing with you, prosecutor.” I say, my voice increasing just so that it balances the line between teasing and something else…something else I should be too ashamed to admit. 

It elicited a smile from him and all of the sudden it was completely worth it. Aaron finishes his tea, and places it into the sink after dumping the remaining ice chips down the drain. 

“Non-negotiable. It’s in your contract. Along with a health insurance package should you need to go off Marty’s name. Plus all that tax information that I’ll get you someone to walk you through it.” Aaron explained. 

“Thank you.” I replied, grateful that it was both all above the table and that I would be given the resources to help me figure it out. Looking at the pile of paperwork in my lap, I was sure that if Aaron didn’t offer legal literacy assistance I would be way in over my head. “That’s wonderful. Really.” 

“I just…I just want my son to be a good kid with a good childhood. That’s all. I want to be there for him and if I’m not there, I want the next best thing there. You know?” Aaron said and I’m not sure if it’s a plea or statement. Or if it was stuck somewhere in the middle; lost at sea like Aaron was himself. An island unto himself, drifting as the tide rolled in. 

I break the silence. “What was Haley’s favorite meal?” 

Aaron smiled. His eyes, crinkling again. “She had chicken piccata on our first date. And we ate it at our wedding. And when she found out she was pregnant with Jack she made it for me.” I nodded, understanding the important link between food and memories. 

“Let’s make it. For Jack and you and Lorianne to share tonight before she leaves. It’s going to be a big transition for him to go from having grandma all the time to me, someone very new.” I expressed, hoping that I didn’t sound bossy or as if I wanted to parent Jack myself. 

“That’s a lovely idea, Y/N.” Aaron sighed. “But I never was much of a chef. I wouldn’t know the first place to start.” 

He leaned his hands against the table, a slight smile breaking the formidable since that had fallen between us in the moments before. I smiled back, standing from the table to reach my tote bag. 

I pulled out an apron, the kind that criss crossed over my back. It was denim blue with a canvas front and large pockets. 

“Move over,” I said, tying my apron, “It might be your kitchen, Aaron, but for tonight you’re kicked out” 

The chicken ended up being more chicken piccata adjacent than a true representation of the dish. I mixed a seasoned blend of flour and spices for the dredging. Then, butterflied and pounded the chicken breasts into thin pieces. 

Aaron’s kitchen was spacious and airy. There was a large island with barstools on one side and lots of pantry and cupboard space on the other. I stood at the island, dredging the chicken in seasoned flour before placing it nearly on paper towel lined trays. The chicken, thinned and butterflied, didn’t take long to cook in the oil and butter. 

I let the skillet heat up till the oil, butter, garlic, and capers produced a mouthwatering aroma. Aaron gave me a bottle of white wine, imperative to make the sauce taste even better. I added freshly squeezed lemon juice and lemon slices to the pan sauce, letting the brown bits cook a little bit more. I scraped the edges of the skillet, incorporating the sauce even more. 

I placed the chicken back into the pan, letting it absorb the lemony, garlicky flavor of the sauce. The sauce thickened, forming something that was similar enough to chicken piccata. I added a bit more butter to the pan, along with some lemon. I figured that it would stretch a little bit more for some sauce for the pasta on the side. 

The chicken was simmering in the pan and the pasta water nearly boiling, when Jack came home. He looked like his father, but must have gotten his lighter colored hair and eyes from his mother. 

Aaron walked into the kitchen with Jack, his hands resting on Jack’s shoulders protectively. Jack’s shy demeanor was evident as he peered over at me. I smiled and waved as I finished the pasta. 

“Jackie, this is Ms. Y/N.” Aaron introduced me to the young boy, who stood shyly by his father. “We talked about how Grandma Lorraine needs to go back home. And we’re gonna have a friend come and live here.” 

Jack nodded, his little mind clearly spinning and spinning to make sense of all this. He was clearly well adjusted, even for losing his mother at such a young age. 

“Hey, there Jack!” I smiled. “I made a good dinner for you and your dad. I heard you went to the zoo with Grandma. I love the zoo. Especially the tigers.” 

Jack nodded, eagerly walking around the kitchen island to talk about the zoo. “Yeah,” he said, “I liked the monkeys. They were funny. The babies were learning to climb and jump.” 

I nodded, plating up some food for Jack. “Super cool. They’re kinda like little people. The way they act and play.” I placed the plate on the counter. “I used the Cars plate. It was way too cool not to.” I crouched down and whispered to Jack, “Just make sure your dad doesn’t swipe it. Between you and me I can see him eying it from here.” 

Aaron chuckled, reaching high to grab not one, but two plates. He handed one to me before telling Jack to go sit for dinner. “You’re joining us. It’ll be good for us to get to know one another.” 

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“Nothing you do would be an intrusion. And it’s good for Jack to see that we’re friends. He’ll be more trusting of you.” 

I nodded, understanding that it was very important for Jack to become used to me. Especially considering Aaron’s job could take him away for days at a time. 

“Alright.” 

Aaron nodded. “Sit. I’ll get your plate.” 

There was an understanding that washed over me. An understanding that Aaron was the kind of man that didn’t ask for things. He was simply used to things he wanted being carried out. I envied that security. Maybe if I had even an ounce of it I would still be hacking it out in LA. Or maybe I wouldn’t have needed to figure it out because I would’ve figured it out already. 

Jack and Aaron went back and forth, swapping facts about dinosaurs. Jack was squarely in the dinosaur phase. Five minutes in, and I already had promised to help him find a dinosaur coloring book, with dinosaurs besides just the “cool ones”. 

“Uncle Spencer says that some dinosaurs had heads as big as a car!” Jack said, practically shrieking with excitement as he recounted all the facts a certain Uncle Spencer had told him. 

“Uncle Spencer’s so smart. And he’s a kid!” Several of Jack’s stories started with the aforementioned Uncle Spencer and I couldn’t help but wonder where the connection lay. Especially if, like Jack claimed, Spencer was a child. Sometimes some cousins are so far apart in age they’re more like an aunt or an uncle. Perhaps this was the case.

“Spencer is on my team.” My face must have shown my confusion. I always wore my emotions and thoughts on my sleeves, something that failed me several times over. Most notably when my friends in LA would get hit on by men at bars in the most vile of ways. One of the blessings of being deemed unapproachable by men was being left alone, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t burdened by their lack of tact in seducing women. “And he’s 28…yes about 28 now, and has been on the team since he was 23. He’s brilliant. Jason Gideon, who worked with Martin, scouted him when he was hardly 21. His mind works in ways that are simply unexplainable.” 

“Which means he must have some pretty sick dino facts?” I ask, my question causing a prickly smile to appear on Aaron’s face. Jack giggles, he must enjoy seeing his father smile. It seems that even though the boys find themselves moving alone, smiles are few and far between. Especially from the elder Hotchner. 

“And three phDs.” Aaron cut the rest of Jack’s chicken, sliding his plate over and reminding him to at least try the vegetables. “It’s like these kids are getting younger as fast as they are getting smarter. Sometimes I just look at Spencer and my knees hurt. Then again, I’m pretty sure I would beat him in anything athletic. Even though he’s much younger.” 

I raised my brow instinctively, smiling. “Was that a joke?” I deadpanned. “My dad said you made two jokes the entire time he knew you. And the first was…”

I stopped myself short. But it was far too late. Aaron, like myself and my father, knew when the first joke he made to my father was. His wedding day. My father had long retired, and moved his mind and soul far, far away from the BAU. He trusted Aaron and Gideon to handle it. Instead he decided to live as himself, freely with his husband and their daughter in the suburbs.

If there was one thing that I shouldn’t have done the first night working with a nanny family consisting of a widower and his son, it was to bring up the marriage of the widower. 

When Aaron married his late wife, Haley. My fathers attended, but I didn’t even remember. It must’ve been one of those times that Nana would sleepover. I remembered it was painting nails, ordering Chinese, and watching Walker, Texas Ranger and Family Feud. I remembered it as falling asleep to my Nana’s snoring as Home Shopping Club glowed on her ancient TV set and waking up to her chocolate chip pancakes. My father remembers it was the first time his young protege made a joke. And Aaron remembers it was the day he married the love of his life. 

“Daddy?” Jack said, cutting through the silence, “I don’t like veggies. They’re too mushy.” 

“Don’t eat them, bud.” Aaron, murmured, his voice laced with a guard that I hadn’t noticed till now. It was careful, like he crafted each tone and cadence before he spoke. “We’ll figure it out, Jack. Come on, let’s show Ms. Y/N her room. Where she’ll be staying.” 

Each sentence is clipped and calculated. I nod, smiling as Jack stands next to his father. 

“I’ll clean up.” 

Aaron nodded, thanking me as he took Jack up to get ready for bed. Minutes later, the kitchen was back to normal and a couple extra meals were packed away for leftovers. I left a note on the counter for Aaron in the morning. 

Lunch is in the fridge.

I always like to make extras! 

Have a nice day

Y/N

Aaron returned, without Jack. “You didn’t have to do the whole kitchen. I don’t expect that. This isn’t a housekeeping job, it’s taking care of Jack.” 

“I don’t mind. Being a chef…or I was a chef, as much as a pain in the ass cleaning and dishes can be sometimes it’s a good way to finish it all. I don’t know…I don’t make sense.” I chuckled, trailing off in a rambly way that fully gave away my nerves. My previous blunder had shaken me, especially since Aaron seemed completely unnerved, even though I knew it stung.

“I suppose, sometimes I used to stay late to do all the paperwork, even though the interns usually will do it for us.” Aaron wipped his hands on his pants.“Anyway, let me show you to the room. I had it cleaned over the weekend and put Lorianne up at a hotel for a couple nights so there wouldn’t be any issues or crossover.”

Aaron led me through the rest of the house. It was neat and tidy and I didn’t expect anything else from someone like Aaron, even though he does have a young, energetic son. There was just something meticulous about him. Something so put together and careful. And then there was me. Messy and complicated and unsure and terrified. Anyone would be that after having the carpet pulled out from under them. And I couldn’t name a bigger carpet than having to bury your life. 

There was a locked door that led to what Aaron explained as my private area. “Jack and I won’t come over here. From the time that I get home in the evenings, or frankly, some days, till I leave in the mornings is your own. This is your spot in the house, but my housekeepers that come twice a month will clean in here, if you’d like.” 

I nodded, grateful for that added bonus. The small attachment was the size of a studio apartment. There was a kitchenette with a nook tucked into the corner with the windows. The furniture matched the rest of the house, clearly Aaron had spared no expense to add this attachment. The queen sized bed was pushed up against the wall and nestled into the corner. Next to it was a nightstand with a lamp. And, as I turned the corner, was the crowning jewel. 

“Are those built–ins?” I asked, staring in disbelief. “Those are so gorgeous. I have like, easy, a ton, of books. God! Can I use them?” I turned, practically jumping from joy as Aaron chuckled reluctantly. 

“Of course. This room’s yours.” Aaron must’ve carried my bags into the bedroom while I was cooking because all of my belongings sat on the floor near the set of love seats and armchair. “I’ll leave you to get settled. 8:30 okay for tomorrow?” 

I nodded, stunned beyond belief as I opened my boxes of books. Aaron handed me a set of keys, one to the house, the shed, and the other to my area of the house. 

“You’re the only one that has a copy. If you want others made, I’ll cover the expense.” Aaron explained. “Have a good night, Y/N.” 

“Good night,” I replied, hooking the keys onto my set. “And thank you for this room. It’s nicer than my apartment in LA.” 

Aaron leaned against the doorframe, “Of course, I think Jack'll be very happy. It’s been hard to trust others. With him, honestly…Jack’s all I got left.” I had known Aaron for about three hours, heard stories of his skill and professionalism and talent for years, but he wasn’t someone that I had known, let alone even met. But in those three hours, I could count several times where I saw a sliver of emotions.

“I’ll leave you to it.” 

“Night.” 

“And Y/N?” Aaron said, stopping me as I reach down to start shelving books, “Food does hold memories. You’re right. I needed it. We did. Jack and I. He needs to remember her.” 

“Food has memories.” I said, shrugging, “You’re gonna have to learn I know more than you think I do.”

Taglist

@reidsbookclub @boldlyvoid @pear-1206 @this-is-calm-and-its-anne @little-jana @pastelpinkflowerlife @sarcasm-and-stiles @ilovefictionalmennn

[katerinaaqu]

The Death of Odysseus

So...I decided to chop myself some onions today! This idea was in my head quite some time! I am planning a Part 2 of this but I believe this can also stand on its own! As the title says...

Telemachus was marching across the hall slowly and steadily while supporting the body of his old father. Surely the celebrations for the harvest were going very well and people were having fun but the new King of the Cephallinians had to excuse himself to escort his father to his chambers, for he had apparently drunk more than what he should have and needed his rest. He didn’t mind that little break. Telemachus was never fond of huge crowds anyways and he liked some quiet and solitude. Ever since his father finally came back home after his redemption trip he often spent more time with him than with the servants! He had so much catch up to do with him and so much to talk about and learn from him! As the years passed and Telemachus finally grew old and experienced enough to become king at his own accord, Odysseus gave the throne to him, just like his father before him had also done, and he promised to support him. For Odysseus himself, his life seemed to have been completed with happiness. After his son got married and he brought to this world his beloved grandson, Perseptolis, whom he named after the family tradition himself, his happiness was completed. He had nothing more to expect. He felt his heart was filled with happiness and calmness after a lifetime of worries, torture and ordeals! His son had grown, he was doing a marvelous job as a king, and his grandson was strong and healthy, growing every day! What else could he ask for! Odysseus was already 79 years old, just a few hours away of his 80th birthday. Age was taking over his body pretty fast, especially given the ordeals he had gone through; his bones were often complaining, his arms and fingers often suffered from stiffness and pain, especially when the nights were humid and cold but Odysseus welcomed that pain with happiness. He had grown old when so many others wouldn’t even dream of and he was generally healthy; he still had all of his teeth and most of his hair and his wits were sharp as always, not deteriorating by age. He would praise Athena every day of his life for this. Somehow he would hate to become an imbecile with age, or so he used to say, he would hate to become a burden to his son especially given the sorrows he had given him unintentionally all these years back. Telemachus chuckled as he fixed his staggering father onto his body better.

“Now, now, father!” he said playfully, “I swear to gods, the older you get the more like a child you act!”

Odysseus chuckled.

“Well, my son, I am now old man, I have no responsibilities anymore other than catering to my family’s garden and play with your son and dear grandson of mine; gods bless him! I believe I earned myself the privilege to act so!”

Telemachus rolled his eyes.

“Even so, you shouldn’t have drunk so much! In your age you should watch your health better!”

Odysseus once again chuckled and made a dismissive move with his hand.

“Oh well…” he said nonchalant, “Wine is one of the few pleasures I have left in this miserable world at my age, my son!”

“Oh, father!” Telemachus scoffed, “Come on now!”

“Either way!” Odysseus shrugged, “This year’s brew was just too good to resist! And you did very good job selecting it and choosing the perfect time for the sea water to be mixed in it! You made it hard to resist!”

“Father! You’re unbelievable!”

“Part of my charm, I’m sure!”

Telemachus couldn’t help himself chuckle softly as he led his father to his bed chamber, to his beloved olive bed. Initially Odysseus had given that as a wedding chamber to his son and his daughter-in-law but for the past few months Odysseus had made this request if he could live his last days in that room where he gave life to this family, where he used to share with his mother his nights and early mornings. Odysseus was devastated when Penelope died. He mourned her for weeks. However Telemachus saw also how calmly he took it. They both grew old and finally enjoyed their lives. That last tribute of Odysseus closing her eyes seemed simply to close that circle. Odysseus mourned but he didn’t despair. He greeted her death like an old friend and thanked all gods that it found his wife healthy and happy and that she died peacefully in her sleep. Penelope had also requested that she were to be transferred to her old bed a little before she died; this was where she had left her last breath. Therefore, after Odysseus made the same request, Telemachus feared his father had sensed his own death coming, thus making him even more careful and worried of him. His father was dismissive of it, of course, and in a way he was right; he wouldn’t be around forever, but to Telemachus the news of losing his father were too sad, too scary to comprehend even if it was the most normal thing in the world. Either way he now led his father to his bed, slowly and steadily and assisted him to it. Odysseus sighed in relief as he was placed upon the mattress and assisted out of his sandals by his son. His son often did this; he attended to him himself, not asking the servants to do things like this. It was as if he was trying to make up the lost time. He breathed deeply again as the bed sheets were paced above his body as well as a blanket his wife had loomed for him; his favorite. It pictured an intricate pattern of olive branches, moly flowers and waves circling a ship that roamed close to a mountain-like island. The ship had three figures standing on them embracing. Penelope had spent months on this blanket and she had given to him as a gift a few years before when he was complaining for the pains in his body from the cold. His father could hardly part with it lately. He even jokingly (or perhaps not so much) said that he wanted this blanket to be his funeral shroud, covering the sheet.

“Is it comfortable?” Telemachus asked

“Yes, thank you…” Odysseus whispered

His hand slowly touched Telemachus’s cheek, feeling the black, curly, bushy beard covering it along with his warm flesh. He smiled affectionately with moist, onyx-black eyes, perceiving those blue eyes of his wife’s to him. Yes, Telemachus was their pride and joy. He took the best out of both of them! He had his strength, his resilience and he had taken his mother’s eyes, her kindness…her wisdom… Yes, Odysseus was proud of what they had done. This pride was exceeding any of the labors he performed in any war; any praise he ever received in his life seemed insignificant before this result he had before him…

“You go back to the celebrations, my son…” he whispered affectionately, “Go back and have fun…don’t spend the rest of the night here with your old father… I will be fine…”

Telemachus scoffed softly, feeling strangely emotional. For some reason his own eyes felt almost watery.

“You silly old man!” he whispered cupping his father’s hand on his cheek with his own, “Anyways, are you sure you are okay? I can ring for someone to come and attend to you”

“Positive…” Odysseus whispered, “I am fine. I will just sleep. I am really tired”

Telemachus shook his head defeated.

“Fine, but please do not hesitate to call if you need anything”

He stood up to leave.

“Telemachus”

Odysseus’s hand holding his wrist made him stop. He turned to look at the old, white-haired figure of his father’s.

“Thank you…” the tormented king whispered, “…For everything…”

Telemachus half-chuckled, again not sure why he was so emotional all of the sudden. Perhaps he too had more to drink than he should have and it affected him.

“What?” he asked, “That sounded almost like a goodbye…”

Odysseus smiled. His smile was calm and his eyes were glistering in the moonlight.

“What an idea!” he whispered, “There is much life left in these old bones! I buried many much younger than me! I have plenty of years ahead of me!”

Telemachus chuckled.

“Rest well, old man” he whispered and kissed his father’s brow

Odysseus could only nod as he watched his pride and joy, his son who grew strong and healthy, leave the wedding chamber where he was born into, with his crimson cape waving behind him. He smiled as he was alone in the moonlit room…his eyes shedding two tears.

He knew it was a lie.

It was the last, white lie Odysseus of Ithaca was to say…his last goodbye to this world and he wanted to see them off all smiling and celebrating. He didn’t want his last memory to be of his son crying or closing his eyes. This was the last task he had to do himself; alone. He didn’t have much time left and he knew it…and yet he felt calm. He had fulfilled his purpose. There was nothing else for him… He was happy.

*

He was breathing heavily. His large chest (not as muscular as it used to be) was moving up and down with each breath. He looked up at the canopy of olive branches and smiled. His eyes then moved to the side, to the window that had a clear view of the sea… His eyes filled with tears but these tears wouldn’t shed.

“Death will find you at ripe old age…peacefully…away from the sea…or by its salt huh…?” he whispered chanting the words of Tiresias

Death was something he considered so many times in his life; both with aversion and fear as well as with wishful thinking. Now he felt calm. He could hardly understand how he had survived so long; how he lived longer than many other men of his time; longer than his beloved Penelope… Now he knew it was his time drawing near… There in his favorite bed, under his olive tree…looking at the sea that gave him so much happiness so much adventure and so much torment… He felt calm. He closed his eyes for one second lifting away the tears that had filled his eyes.

“Odysseus…”

The unworldly and yet somehow familiar voice brought him back to reality. He opened his eyes to see that tall figure he never thought he would see again in his life; one of the few people that he wished to have met again and never did. His tall, square figure shone with incredible warm light, dressed up in a fine armor incorporating intricate patterns of feathers instead of plates. His magnificent plumed helmet brought up his dark eyes and the beard that adorned his cheeks and chin. He had a sword to his hip just like he could remember. His skin shone like golden, his long, brown curly hair neatly falling down his back under the helmet. He smiled without wanting to at that rigid figure before him.

“Diomedes!” he whispered

Diomedes smiled.

“It is I, Odysseus…indeed…”

Odysseus chuckled in delight.

“Wow…” he whispered, “I heard you bastard turned into a god by rumors but, on my word, I never expected to see it with my eyes… Gods you look the same as I remember…you haven’t changed!”

“Nothing and everything has changed…” Diomedes said in his deep, soothing voice

A god then! Odysseus didn’t know if he had to feel proud or a bit envious of him! However after years and years he spent on earth and learnt humility in the most painful ways, his envy was reduced to minimum. Diomedes deserved it, if half the stories that reached his ears about him were true. Besides who would want to live forever like this? He had people waited for him somewhere else too…

“So…” Odysseus whispered, “If you are here…that means…I am dying…right?”

“Yes…” Diomedes whispered.

That was definitely Diomedes he remembered. He never beat about the bushes and always came straight to the point.

“And you came to take me…”

“I asked Lord Hermes for the honor…yes.” Diomedes replied, “I was assigned with this task.”

“I see…”

“Are you afraid…?”

“No” the answer was simple; direct, “I have lived a long life…I have seen my son grow, I held my grandson in my hands…I nourished him too, to become a young man, I held my wife as she breathed my name one last time… I have nothing else to live for. My time would come… Death does no longer scare me. Death is not unknown to me…”

“Do you have any regrets?”

Yet another direct question. He breathed in and out once, looking upwards in thought.

“I would be a liar if I said I had none…” he finally confessed, “Many good men found death by my hand…many wicked too… I did many things I am proud of and many others I would always carry with me… The lives that fell under my command; both friends and foes alike are always present at my conscious”

“The war of Troy…”

“The war of Troy” Odysseus agreed, “Ten years we fought. Ten years we bled. Ten years we killed…and killed we did!”

“You and I especially”

“Quite so.” Odysseus agreed. “They called you ‘Lord of War Cry’; they called me ‘Sacker of Cities’… The titles would haunt us for the rest of our lives…”

“We bore them all our lives”

“Yes…we did…” he consequently scoffed, “And look at us now! You a god…and I an old man in my deathbed…who would have thought!”

“Do you want to linger a bit further…?”

Odysseus looked around once more.

“No” he replied, “I have lived everything any mortal could live. I am tired, Diomedes. Please take me now…I have nothing else to expect…”

Diomedes smiled one of his known, half-smiles. Child-soldier to the end; a man born and raised in war.

“I am to accompany you to your journey for a little while”

Odysseus smiled again.

“The journey to the Underworld is not unknown to me…I have not many surprises to expect… But I appreciate it…”

Diomedes extended his hand to him.

“It is time…” he whispered, “Time to go…”

“Yes…” Odysseus whispered, “I have one last request…”

“And what is that…?”

“Can I see my homeland one last time as I go…? Please…do not deny me this last thing…”

Diomedes smiled.

“Of course…”

Odysseus cried. He felt the last tears run down his wrinkled cheeks.

“Thank you…”

He took the hand of his old friend and closed his eyes. Once more, the much-enduring Odysseus accepted his fate… The last thing he saw before his eyelids blocked his mortal flesh eyes was the canopy of his olive bed and a tiny glimpse of the starry sky beyond…

***

My oh my what have I done indeed!!!! And be warned I was writing this while listening to this amazing piece of music from anime Tasogare Otome x Amnesia! I never manage to go through without tearing up with that one! TT-TT

So according to the prophecy of Tiresias Odysseus would die of ripe old age peacefully but ironically the translation from the phrase "εξ αλός" can be both translated "by its salt" or "away/out of its salt" so either his death would come "by the sea" or "away from the sea".

Somehow I tried once again to combine them! XD as you know me I cannot help myself. So Odysseus dies "away from the sea" in his bed at night but "by its salt" for he drank wine mixed with sea water before his death. There you go!

The age was picked so that Telemachus would be in his 40s when this happens. In a way he is at the same age as Odysseus was when he was at the final wars of Troy.

Yeah I imagined Telemachus being almost a copy of his father too apart from some more height and the eyes of Penelope (which were chosen randomly to be blue)

Tlemachus's wife is not named because the two prominient theories is either he gets married to the daughter of Nestor's or to Nausicaa. I sometimes tend to lean towards the second one solely because I find it interesting but I leave it to your imagination.

Perseptolis being named by Odysseus was part of an idea discussed with @ditoob before how the grandfather or grandmother leaves the name to the grandchildren after Autolycus names Odysseus.

And Diomedes is here!!! Imagine if these two never met so many years and meet when Odysseus dies!!! The idea was too much stuck in my head to ignore! So yes lo and behold my idea of a small dialog between them.

I hope you like it!

[hwasoup]

Of Liquor and Speakeasies

🌵|cowboy miguel x reader

| summary: you’re sent off by your family to be engaged to a man for business purposes, what happens when you get kidnapped by an outlaw ?

| content warning: death, neglect, emotional abuse, implied sexual content, kidnapping, historic themes

| word count: 5.0k words

author’s notes: finally the first chapter to this new fic is ouuuttt, i hope you guys enjoy reading this ! Also ty ty to @monarchberrysblog for proofreading and for helping me create the aesthetic of the post and to @bluesidez for being inspo for cowboy migs in general !!

Chapter One

A baby cries in the halls of a mansion, nurses running everywhere as the main head of the household Mr. Suarez holds the hand of his beloved maid very tightly.

“Maritza you can make it” he says softly. The maid, Maritza, weakened from childbirth looked at her lover and whispered “i….i don’t have much time….” She exhales. A nurse comes in with the newborn babe swaddled in a blanket. “Mr. Suarez, sir….it is a baby girl…”

The man, delighted at the news, looks at his lover who is very weak.. “a girl my love. my only girl” Maritza weakly looked at him and said in a whisper, “name the girl y/n…let her have your last name so that she may live comfortably…let a governess raise her instead of your wife…for she will bear hatred for the girl until her dying days…I love you my dear…” She kissed the baby’s head for the first and last time and her eyes closed and her hands slipped away from her lover. Mr. Suarez in fear whined to her “ Maritza, no! My love - please don’t leave me” his voice trembling “you’ll watch her grow, I’ll make sure she’s safe. Just stay with me…” His voice cracks as he holds back a sob, looking down at the newborn “She needs you” Maritza croaks softly as she let out her last breath “ be…happy…”

Mr. Suarez, devastated as he felt her hand weakens hold and slip away, lowers his head to her lifeless hand, the weight of the loss hitting him all at once. He took the child into his hands, cradling the baby closer to his chest, tears pooling in his eyes, feeling the burden of this new responsibility, his only daughter out of four boys. He instructed the doctor to proclaim his lover dead and to hide the birth of his daughter from society and to instead, legally place her birth certificate under his wife’s name. “ I’ll protect you, mija. I promise….I’ll make sure no one ever knows the truth.”

Time flew and the baby was eventually raised by a wet nurse and a nanny until she was old enough to attend schooling. By the age of 5, the baby learned how to properly pronounce her name, y/n Suarez and was brought to a separate room away from the rest of the family to be raised and brought up by a governess. As y/n became older, her father constantly doted on her and visited her constantly and made sure she had her place at the dinner table as well. Of course his wife wasn’t fond of that, so she always made sure that y/n would sit at the end of the table next to her where she would always whisper to the child to remind her that she’s a bastard child and the product of an affair. Her older half brothers, doing the same behind their father’s back due to their jealousy of her receiving the most attention.

However despite that, the governess taught and raised to be a proper lady and to be forgiving while helping her to remain and grow her own personality. By the time y/n was 17, she was able to attend her first social gathering and heard the whispers of gossiping rich women like her, wondering about the possible new law that could be implemented; The banning of liquor and bars. She wondered of course how that could possibly work, but by the time she was 18 the law had passed and liquor was banned.

Her father enraged by the law decided in his business man thinking, to help the people of this country by opening secret bars where liquor will secretly be provided. By the middle of 1920, Mr. Suarez became one of the most wealthiest businessmen in the country by opening secret speakeasies while working under the guise of “owning businesses”

———————————————————————————————————————

Present time: 1923

“Father what do you mean I have to go to California to meet Mr. Prescott” y/n scoffs to her father. Mr. Suarez looked at her and strictly said “Drew Prescott owns the most famous hotels in Los Angeles… I want you to meet him, it would be a profitable marriage if he agrees to the agreement” Y/n groaned as her shoulders sunk. She looked at him but sighed “As you wish…” she says. Y/n walked out of his office and went to a maid to pack her things and book her ticket for the soonest train ride for California. As she walked down the hall to her room she spots her older brother and sighs as he approached her “What now Diego, coming here to belittle me again, to remind me i’m not one of you again ?” Diego chuckles and smirks as he leans his body against the wall. “Oh hermanita, such a sharp tongue, can’t a brother congratulate his little sister’s engagement, so quick to be defensive as well... Can’t a brother wish you luck? After all to be sent like a parcel to Prescott sounds fascinating” Y/N sighed and looked at him “I don’t need your fake concern. If you cared so much, it wouldn’t be what father gains from me”

In that same hall her second older brother, Marco walked by and stopped joining the conversation and laughing “Oh, but it is our gain as well considering the peace we’ll finally have. Mama will finally laugh for once after years.” Y/n bit her lip as her voice tightened in an effort to stay calm “you’ve always been good at making her smile anyways by just keeping quiet and pretending everything is perfect, but there is one thing i know the truth about..”

Diego leaned closer “ Oh? And what is that little sister ?” Y/N leaned in and whispered “That you, Marco, Deluca, and Juan are nothing but shadows. You say that I’m beneath you, pero… you’re more trapped in this house than I ever was. Diego’s smile falters slightly, masking his discomfort. Marco’s face hardens as the two walk away. Leaving her with feelings of disappointment as well as annoyance. However, there was no time to be disappointed as she had to start packing to meet this Prescott man. She packed some of her clothes, some dresses, some shoes, not too many though in order to not overwhelm and stuff her luggage. Drowning in her thoughts she wished desperately that somehow she could be dragged out of this, to be swept off her feet, a sign of some sort. Just about anything that would keep her from going to Los Angeles to meet this man. Y/N groans in frustration and throws herself onto her bed and sighed. She looked up and then spotted her book, a gift her father gave her when she turned 15, an old wild west book about an outlaw who falls in love for a mistreated upperclass woman. Its an old childhood book, and yet the pages were filled of a dream of freedom she longed for. She shook her head and rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling of her bedroom.

She was ripped from her thoughts as she heard a knock on her door. Y/N immediately stood up and flattened out any wrinkles on her dress with her hands and cleared her throat while she spoke up “come in!” The door opened and there entered her father’s wife. Mrs. Suarez. Y/n immediately looked down and made sure not to make any eye contact or wrong movements around her. Mrs. Suarez took a turn around her room, her tone saccharine as ever “I see that you’re finally leaving, y/n. Took long enough. I thought I’d have to endure your presence forever” Y/N keeping her eyes down asked “Is there anything I may help you with ma’am ?” The older woman chuckled, circling her slowly “Help? Oh no, you’ve done more than enough. Soon, you’ll be out of the house, and I’ll no longer have to look at the mistake my husband brought home.” Y/N tensed slightly as she spoke softly “ I’m sure that Father only wants what’s best for the family.” Mrs. Suarez laughed bitterly at her words “Family? You’re not family. You’re a stain, an embarrassment. And once you’re married off to that hotel heir, you’ll be someone else’s problem.” She then stepped closer, grabbing y/n’s shoulder harshly, whispering to her “Just remember, no matter where you go, you’ll always be a bastard. And when you’re gone, I’ll make sure that your name is erased from this household.” Y/n flinches bur holds her composure as she spoke softly but firmly “That won’t change who I am” ….The woman smiles at her disgustingly and walked away “oh and by the way, your ship to New Orleans will be tomorrow…. I’ll make sure of it…maybe I’ll do it by making my husband a real daughter tonight” she then now finally left the room.

Y/N stared at the door once she left and simply muttered “I did not need to know about you getting all nasty with my father…” That night, y/n didn’t come down for dinner at the table as she was too busy staying in her room absorbing her surroundings and her current reality. She also didn’t want to come down simply because she was slightly disturbed due to hearing her father and Mrs. Suarez earlier moaning their heads off having sex which was unfortunately a hall away from her isolated bedroom. She should have known that Mrs. Suarez probably had that planned in order to torment her, which to y/n’s dismay did work.

The next day, y/n was at the port ready to board the passenger ship that would take her to New Orleans, there she stood with her father as she hugged him softly and whispered “please be happy and at peace now” she handed her luggage to a porter and went in line to get onto the ship. Finally making it inside after a bit of questioning and looking at her passport, she walked around to explore the ship a bit. Each step she took, she felt the weight of every step dragging her closer to a future she didn’t want. Her father’s words echoed in her mind: “A profitable marriage.” Was that all she was to him? Another business transaction? Of course she could only see the first class section of the ship as she was not allowed to even mingle with the commoners. As y/n walked around her heart raced as she glanced at the other women in their pristine dresses, their eyes filled with envy or pity as they stared at her outdated clothes. Her attire being from the 1910s, clothes that not even commoners wore anymore.She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling more out of place than ever. Y/n eventually found her cabin and sat down onto the bed. Looking around to familiarize herself with the window, the vanity, the dresser, and the bathroom. She sighed as she relaxed and closed her eyes for a bit of a nap in her temporary room. Time passes and the ship departed from the port and headed its way to New Orleans in three days time. Each passing mile to New Orleans felt like a nail in her coffin. The city that held the key to her future up ahead.

3 days later, the ship docked and y/n had officially arrived at New Orleans, there was people everywhere, jazz being played, a more warmer environment, the smell of the ocean clashing with the fresh smell of the nearby bayou. She then went through some questioning, some security to make her way to domestic arrivals and finally was able to get her luggage with her. She found her escort who would take her to the Union Station to finally get aboard the Sunset Limited, a steam train that has a route from New Orleans, directly to Los Angeles. As she walked with her escort she felt her hands getting clammy, her palms sweating, her breath shortening. Once she gets on that train, she will officially have to accept that she’s being sent off for marriage.”Drew Prescott” she mumbled quietly. Her escort brought her to the ticket stand and presented her paperwork and reservation for her seat. The ticket seller looked at her documentation as well as her passport and gave her the ticket. Y/N looked down as she read her ticket “platform five….huh…” Y/N eventually makes her way onto that platform and waited for a while in the first class seating lounge. An announcement was made, to alert all passengers to make way to the platform as the train was arriving. Y/N followed the other upper class men and women as to not get lost. Finally once she reached the Sunset Limited platform, she felt a sense of dread and fear. I can’t do this, I can’t marry a man I’ve just met. She holds the hem of her dress tightly to ease her anxious feelings.

A loud horn was heard. A huge black pullman train, the trains cars each having 6 wheels and painted with dark olive green paint with black roofs. The piece of machinery was a beauty, but it was also the one way ticket to her eventual fate. Y/N sighed once more and got on aboard. The train’s first class cars had spacious seating and chairs made with cushion and refineries. She kept walking to the next train cart and passed by the dining room, there was two rows of seating, the tables were made of either oak or mahogany, each table covered with a sheet of linen, the ceiling had chandeliers with soft illumination to bring a more softer ambiance, the carpet had an intricate design of what would be seen in baroque art. Finally she made it to the third train cart where the sleeping compartments would be. Since it was her alone traveling, she had her own compartment, y/n checked and noticed that her seat could convert into a soft bed. There was soft overhead lighting as well as folded sheets of the highest quality in the corner. There was also a bell to call for service from a pullman porter to make her bed and or to bring her refreshments. It was truly a compartment of the highest quality, and to even make things better her luggage was already tucked away in a small area in her compartment. At least she could take solace in this room of hers for a while. “Drew Prescott.” The name was already bitter on her tongue. Again after waiting for a while, the train departed. Her trip to Los Angeles finally starting, with the first stop being Baton Rouge. It was already nighttime considering the time she arrived by ship which was early in the morning. She knew it would be a good 8 to 10 hours until they reached to at least Houston. So she called for a porter to mend her bed, so that she could go to sleep and wake up in Texas.

The next morning, y/n woke up due to the announcement of the train nearing Houston in about 1 hour. She looked out her window and noticed the lush green farmland of Texas, lots of cows she had never seen before, even horses of different breeds she didn’t recognize. Y/N stretched her arms and got up from her bed and got dressed in a different abhorrent outfit that did not fit with the times. She once again called for a porter to make her bed into a seat again and went to the dining cart for some breakfast, by that time the train had officially made a stop in the growing city of Houston. It was much more different from her beloved New York, but she appreciated watching how this city was filled with different kinds of people. She watched as some people got off and how some got on the train and simply watched people as she ate a hearty breakfast For a good 30 minutes until the train departed again to San Antonio.

Somewhere in the middle of the route between Houston and San Antonio. Y/N was in the lounge cart doing some light reading in her old wild west book until the train came to a sudden halt. Y/n looked around confused and asked the nearest porter and asked “excuse me but why is the train halting?” The man responded with “oh nothing, they’re just refilling the coal and re oiling the metal for this lug to move on ma’am… nothing more” he popped off his hat a little to bid her a quick goodbye and walked through the train carts.

About 2 hours later, the train was still at a standstill, however a few miles away stood a bunch of men with their horses. One man however was loading up his revolver and some pocket knives in case of an emergency. “Alright gentleman, it has been exactly a long week of planning, this train will move in exactly 30 minutes and the security will get to the first class passenger car in 20…we have exactly a 10 minute window to loot the bags and find the diamond….take anything valuable” All of the men cheered in excitement and started putting on their bandanas and saddling up their horses. Their leader immediately got onto the back of his black steed and led the gang out from the shadows and straight to the first passenger car. Immediately the gang gets to work and managed to bust the car door open the leader stepped in and publicly announced “Mornin’ folks, sorry to bust y’all trip but this train car got somethin’ I want and imma get it….” The passengers yelped in surprise and scurried away in fear due to the man having a revolver in his hand. He then walked in between the empty space between the seats and spotted y/n, immediately he was confused onto why a woman was wearing something so out of date compared to the other ladies, he then carried on and continued as she lingered in his mind. A pretty woman simply sitting there reading a book not even phased by his appearance, not only that a rich woman as well. He couldn’t put his finger on it and kept walking and simply looted anything valuable that could be worth the money. Right before he left, he looked back at y/n deciding that he would kidnap her to ease his mind from questioning so much “cuse me young lady, but imma be kidnappin’ you now”

Y/n who was absorbed in her book looked up and saw the cowboy and her eyes widened ever so slightly, and for a moment she felt a bit of fear, the revolver in his hand, the confidence stance. Everything about him screamed danger. However, he looked interesting to look at. He had tanned skin and a muscular build. His eyes were a deep brownish red with short, brown wavy hair. He wore a long sleeve light blue shirt and had two buttons undone where you could peek at his pectorals and spot his chest hair. His jeans had red and blue chaps with a flame design and fringes on the side. The bottom of his boots were visible as well as a large belt with some ammo, a lasso, and another revolver hidden away by his torso. His face however was covered by his yellow bandana. Y/n stared for a minute, appreciating the clearly attractive man’s physique, if only those existed in New York she would have appreciated the city a bit more, but then realized what he said about her kidnapping her or something considering that the man had a deep souther drawl to his words.“pardon ?” She blinks a couple of times, then looks at him closely, as if weighing her options. But then something shifted, A sudden thought flashed in her mind. This is it. This is my way out. She looked at the man more closely, his rugged features sharp against the backdrop of a train car. A sign. This is the sign I was waiting for. Y/N quickly concluded that this was the sign. Y/N then paused with a slight smile crossing her lips and said “Alright then. Just let me take my book and purse”

The man looked at her in confusion, he expected the woman to jump, protest or scream, but the fact that she was quick to accept flustered him “ Wait…What? You’re not gonna scream or…I don’t know, protest?” Y/n rising to her feet, adjusted her dress and looked at him “Why would I? You’re offering me the adventure I’ve been waiting for.” She meets his gaze with a bold look. “Besides, it’s not really kidnapping if I’m willing to go.” As she packed her things, Y/N’s heart beat faster- not from fear but from the rush of freedom. For the first time, she was taking control of her fate. If I’m going to escape Prescott, it might as well be with this stranger. She simply then walked to the car’s door and hops out. The man stared at her confused, thrown off from his mood he muttered “Well, I’ll be damned.. wasn’t expectin’ this” but shrugged it off as he also needed to get off the train as soon as possible. He then quickly helped her mount his horse and got on right behind her. He pulled onto his horse’s reins and directed his steed and gang to the nearest town that was an hour on horseback. He chuckled to himself softly “You’re a strange one darlin’.”

During that ride however, y/n looked around the swampy area and asked “erm…do you know what town we’ll be arriving at ?” The man looked down at her and gruffly said “about a few miles out from Flationia…” y/n nodded as she understood despite not knowing where that was and kept quiet. About a few more minutes she then asked “what is your name…uhh sir?” The man quickly responded “My name is Miguel O'Hara” y/n nodded as she remembered his name “I’m y/n Suarez, it's nice to meet you..” she says. Miguel’s eyes widened at the familiar name, surprised to see that the grown woman with him wasn’t a child. “Suarez, huh, you look nothing like the missus or your father..”

y/n looked down and said “well uh...I am my father’s daughter...but not really his wife’s…” those words were enough for him to understand that she’s an illegitimate child. “A bastard child ey…” he mumbled. Y/n nodded at his words and looked into the distance “yea..” Miguel looked at the young woman for a bit then back at the terrain. The young woman clearly had some sort of history with being illegitimate, but he wouldn’t pry onto the subject.

Finally they arrived at the small town of Flatonia, a small bustling town that was slowly growing. He then got off his horse and took y/n gently as possible, then tied his horse onto a post, as his men did and they all walked into a single story inn. There were a few people already drinking at the bar and in booths. Miguel led them through the front room and headed to the counter. The innkeeper looks up to him and is surprised to see a man in a cowboy hat. “Well hello, stranger. What can I get for you?"

"I need a room. A big one. Me and my gang are gonna be staying for a night or two” Miguel says. The innkeeper looks at Miguel and his gang skeptically then looks a little closer* "And just what kinda business you boys gettin into to need a big room?" Y/n watched the interaction and then looked at her purse and bag of money. She decided that she would help them get inside the inn. Y/n looked at Miguel and back at the innkeeper. “Allow me” she says to Miguel, She then approached the innkeeper and looked into her money bag, pulled out a gold nugget and gave him the piece. However, the gold nugget has the Suarez name branded onto it, granting y/n immediate immunity if she were to go anywhere.

*The innkeeper's eyes widen when he sees the nugget. Immediately his entire demeanor changed as he saw her put the gold nugget on the counter "M-Miss Suarez! My apologies, I didn't know it was you! Of course, of course, I can get you the biggest room right away!" Y/n smiled and gave him a polite thank you. While they waited in the lobby for a bit, Miguel couldn’t help but praise her for quick thinking

"Impressive, darlin'. Didn't expect you to bring out the gold to get us the room that quickly." Y/n smiled at him and said “it's the least I could do for someone who took me away from the stickler rules of women in society…” Miguel raised his eyebrows surprised at her words but shrugged them off as he spoke to the rest of his men as they all waited in the lobby for the room to be prepared.

After a while the innkeeper arrived and brought Miguel, y/n, and his men to the biggest room. Miguel thanked the innkeeper as the man arrived and unlocked the room for them. He entered the room and looked around

"Well look at this, boys. I think this room will do nicely for us."

The rest of the men nodded and entered. They started settling in their space, claiming the beds they wanted. Y/n eventually looked around and found a bed that was closest to the bathroom and sat on it quietly feeling a bit uneasy, avoiding eye contact. “There’s enough beds for everyone. Surely you can sleep somewhere else ?” Miguel saw her and grinned as he leans against the bedpost. “Nah, I reckon you’ve got the wrong idea darlin’. You ain’t sleepin’ alone.” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as Miguel’s voice lowered, the rough drawl sending a thrill down her spine. She clenched her hands together to keep them from shaking, determined to not show any weakness. “Can’t have you runnin’ off in the middle of the night to alert the law, now can I?” Y/N frowned as she stood her ground “I’m not going anywhere. If i wanted to be free, I wouldn’t have come with you in the first place” Miguel raised an eyebrow at her, his eyes glinting in the lowlight “That right? You sure do talk like you know the game, but trust me little lady, you don’t” He steps even closer to her, his presence overwhelming, lowering his voice as his eyes lock with hers. “Now, be a good girl and make room. We got a long night ahead, and I don’t plan on sleepin’ on the floor” Y/N felt the heat rise to her cheeks, and for a brief moment, her breath caught. She tried to look away, but his smirk told her that he noticed.

y/n looked down then back up at him, exhaling slowly before muttering “Well at least let me remove this dress of mine….this corset is getting hard to breathe in” she huffed out “and I need a nightgown…I can’t sleep in my day clothes ” she says as she goes inside the bathroom. She locks herself in there to start removing her garments. Her heart pounded, but not from feat. Something else was stirring- something she didn’t want to admit.

Miguel sighed at her trying to maintain her prim and proper attitude, despite the amount of sass she had just given him. He chuckled and simply looked for the innkeeper to ask if he had any extra nightgowns for her. After a while, y/n emerged in the nightgown and went quickly into bed, avoiding his gaze picking the left side of the bed since it was facing the wall. Miguel then went inside the bathroom and changed into his night clothes which was just a loose shirt and some short loose pants. He walked out. “You could have just left me back at the train..” Miguel, climbing into bed on the right side beside her “Maybe. But where’s the fun in that? You got spunk darlin’. Makes me curious to see what kind of trouble you’ll cause.” Y/n, hesitant whispers “ you’re giving me something I’ve never had” Miguel raised an eyebrow “And what’s that?”

Y/n hesitant, whispers as if admitting a secret, “A choice” Miguel stayed quiet a sinking realization filled the pit of his stomach as he processed her words. He hadn’t thought much about what he was giving her- freedom, an escape, but hearing her say it made him realize that maybe he was offering more than just a way out. Miguel in a low voice after pausing for a bit “No….not yet.” As the lamp flickered off, the room filled with the quiet breathing of the others, but the space between them felt charged. None of them said a word, and yet they were fully aware of each other’s presence.

lmk if you would like to be tagged and have your age in bio!

taglist: @cupcakeinat0r

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

How would you envision Elrond and Elwing's reunion in Valinor 🥺? I can already imagine they would hug for a lonnngggg time to make up for the years of being forcefully separated from each other. Also, Elrond would be ecstatic to know that Celebrian and Elwing (in my head, lol) have bonded and become close to each other.

yesssss i too believe they would hug and cry for a very long time, like they'd just fall into each other's arms <3<3<3 and elrond can finally break down embraced by his mother the way he never had the chance to for literal thousands of years. a tangent, but i don't think elrond ever felt comfortable showing such extreme, uncontrollable vulnerability in front of others -- having been kidnapped as a child by the people who murdered most of his community and as good as forced his mother to suicide, he pretty much came to hide anything that could be perceived as "weakness" for fear of how maedhros and maglor would react to it. and even though he does grow more emotionally healthy once he finds people with whom he can truly have a good relationship, he still finds it difficult to so entirely let down his guard around people. but with elwing -- it's like he's a child again. as soon as he sees his mother's face, the exact same face that he remembers from his memories and his dreams, the exact same face he associates with strength and love and bravery ever since he was young -- everything all comes rushing out. it's like all the tears of pain and fear at her being taken from him are finally flowing after being reined in for millennia.

i can't imagine how utterly cathartic their reunion, at long last, would be to both of them. they wouldn't let go of each other for a while, that's for sure, and they would probably spend hours and hours and hours learning everything they can about each other. i doubt they'd be willing to be apart for at least several days after that. they are going EVERYWHERE together for the next month. joined at the hip. elwing at some point introduces him to all her friends and kin that she's met and connected with since she came to valinor, and elrond finds a litany of relatives who are delighted and proud and awed. lots of teleri especially are so heartened, particularly the ones who knew thingol from before they came west. that's the great-great-grandson of their king's beloved brother. and speaking of thingol -- elwing has already grown close to him since she came to valinor, she and elrond go to visit him together, and thingol cries once again and adopts yet another descendant. tbh he adopts every single descendant of his that sails west. spoils them rotten like they're children even though they're all grown adults who've seen some shit. what do you mean he can't shower them in every single gift that catches his eye or comes to mind. they're his descendants, he can do what he wants!! he will coddle them, and elrond is by no means an exception.

it's also my hc that elwing and celebrian meet when celebrian arrives in valinor! celebrian tells her mother-in-law all about elrond and all about elladan, elrohir, and arwen. elwing adores her daughter-in-law and celebrian is one of the few people who she'll regularly hang out with. they visit each other and everything, elwing is there with her when celebrian meets her telerin relatives (who already all know and love elwing). suffice to say you're right, elrond is absolutely delighted to learn how close his mother and wife have become. they all spend heaps of time with each other -- with earendil, too, when he comes home. it won't take away the injustice of elwing losing so much of her son's life, and elrond losing his mother at such a young age -- but it's good. at last they're the family they couldn't be long ago, and they're all very very happy together

[prettyboykatsuki]

What can you tell us about the prince shouto fic?

a lot has changed but not everything !!

the main premise of the fic is that prince shouto is trying to stage a coup and overthrow his dad. him inheriting the throne is uncontested because his siblings all forfeited rights to the throne but he wants to take control of the imperial palace before then and needs more people in his corner to make it happen

he seeks reader out on purpose after learning about her because of her lack of presence in high society lmao

reader is one of aizawas adopted kids who stays out of noble society and takes care of his land as a farmer and planned to do so until she died basically. keeps a low profile because she's a runaway from a fallen nation. talented swordsman (has good kinsthetic ability in general) but aizawa doesn't let her do any work with it because she's too violent and reckless. eventually she gave up asking in exchange for aizawa continuing to train her

todoroki lowkey sought her out on a whim but she ends up being a good fit for his bride. todoroki has a few more noble families who would happily marry their daughters to him / side with him but the imperial palace is incredibly hostile and it felt wrong to him to allow a normal noblewoman to marry into that mess lol so he needed someone who was more well suited to endure that. he finds reader on out of desperation but she ends up being perfect.

reader is so beloved. loyal + ruthless + cunning. frequently makes decisions on a whim. bad with socializing but extremely well loved by animals. holds a lot of anger. has some weirdly traditional views about random things like marriage. has a tendency towards violence and carnage. often holds petty grudges with shinso who she's been closed to since she lived on the streets.

prince shouto basically asks reader to come back with him to get married the day he goes to seek her out and reader is like. if you can send people to take care of the farm in my absence sure i'll get married to you. aizawa is like ???? but there wasnt a deep reason she just felt like she should go so she does 💀💀she makes me laugh so bad dkjskd

after getting married reader also becomes prince shoutos imperial knight since it's not technically against any laws and it gives her a reason to attend specific meetings. she's very sturdy and holds her own but she sucks at some etiquette stuff dskjfsjd

i think thats as much as i can spoil for now since this all takes place in the prologue and chapter 1 + 2. the rest of the story is split up into 3 main acts. acts 1 + 2 focus on executing the coup on the imperial palace and act three focuses on restructuring. its when stuff settles down and where they enter their wife husband arc forreal.

i love these two so very much you would not believe.

[whinlatter]

What about the dynamic between Ron and Ginny? I don’t see too many people talk about them other than the one time he tried to sl*t shame her.

this is a lovely one, thank you so much anon. the two baby weasleys. two beloved bruisers who will squabble til the cows come home but who would absolutely take bullets for each other in a heart beat... it's the loves of my life, ron and ginny weasley.

the dynamic between ron and ginny is, as you say, deeply misunderstood, deeply underrated and, ultimately, deeply loving. the ron haters will say ron's a misogynistic slut shamer towards his sister: the ginny haters (these are, i fear, much more numerous...) will say that ginny is a nasty bully towards her big brother, the family/molly's favourite who basks in greater limelight and parental love than poor tormented ronnie. i think that says more about fandom's inability to a) remember we are talking about children/teenagers, b) remember that tripping your brother to humble him when he's being openly horny about his future in sister in law is praxis, and c) grasp that conflict between characters does not preclude the presence of real love, care and mutual respect in their relationship. ron and ginny's dynamic is interesting because it brings out each characters' insecurities and flaws (for ron, his anxieties about his reputation among his own peers and his position within his own family, his worry about his family's wider reputation and wellbeing, his particular overbearing concern about ginny's safety post CoS; for ginny, her resentment of being overprotected, her inability to stomach hypocrisy and tendency to fly off the handle when confronted with it, her righteous temper in general...) but i think if the characters were, er, real, and you were able to show them the fandom takes/discourse around their relationship they'd be like, er, what? obviously we love each other to death. we're very very close. we're mates who enjoy each other's company and increasingly hang out a ton and treasure each other as dearly beloved family, what are you on about? like, yes, of course they bicker. of course they fight. but those two, in their core, are good. i think as adults they'd be closer still.

(there's been a horrid fanon tendency in the last few years to make a lot of hay out of the idea that molly desperately wanted a daughter and mistreated ron, her sixth son, as a result. this is an allegation that seems to have its sole canon basis in what the horcrux screams at ron ('least loved, always, by the mother who craved a daughter'). looking past the fact that the horcrux is, er, expressing ron's fears not reality (in its next breath claims hermione is .... in love with harry lads! tiktok fandom discourse do not like to remember this!), i think it's very important that even if this is ron's fear - that his mum loves him less than his siblings and only had him because she was trying to have a girl - it doesn't actually ever inform any resentment or jealousy towards ginny by ron. ron and ginny fight, of course, they do, but ron never makes this apparent anxiety ginny's problem. ginny could be someone ron bitterly resents, someone his mother and, by 1997, his best friend prefers. but he doesn't ever do that. ron just really loves his sister and wants her to be safe, and yeah, sometimes that pisses her off, but it doesn't come from a place of envy or resentment, which, given ron has oodles of that in other relationships, is saying something.)

my favourite ron and ginny moments:

in CoS when ron's desperate to see ginny get sorted and then gutted that he missed it :(

in CoS when ron teases ginny sweetly about her crush on harry but as soon as malfoy does it is ready to commit bodily harm

in PoA when ginny's suffering with the dementors and she goes looking for ron (even though the last thing he told her was to go away, lmao. just sibling things. fuck off and die! but also i would give you both my kidneys)

in GoF where ginny really is trying not to laugh at ron for asking out fleur when that is plainly fucking funny

in OotP when ron gets one singular look at michael corner and decides he is NOT good enough for his sister and also probably a traitor

in HBP when ron and ginny are at war with each other but ginny names her pygmy puff after him and as soon as ron is poisoned ginny is the first person on the scene (with hermione) and does up poirot with harry trying to solve the mystery of her beloved brother's assassination attempt. he will be avenged!

in DH when the catalyst for the ron/harry fight escalating and ron leaving is the moment ron accuses harry of not caring enough about ginny........ king shit sorry!

bonus in DH when ron's like yeah ofc i didn't go home are you mad. fred and george would have been fuming. and ginny, my moral weather vane, would have run me through with the rustiest of pikes

thank you for humouring me with this ask game anon!

[gojonanami]

I'm having a thought and I'm smacking you with it; Western AU where Satoru and Suguru are basically co sheriffs and Suguru has a thing going on with a cute gal from one of the biggest ranches in their community. The girls dad is a bit over protective since he lost his wife already and there was def a moment where Suguru was chased off the property after the dad caught him in bed w his daughter/reader, inspite that she ends up pregnant

Suguru decides to try and ask for the father's blessing, unfortunately he arrives on the property that faithful day to find everything in disarray, the father and younger siblings are dead and his love is missing.

Suguru being Suguru, spirals as a result, and it gets worse when he learns people turned a blind eye to the chaos on the ranch that day to protect themselves and he starts to take the law into his hand as judge, jury and prosecutor and finds himself lacking the empathy he once had.

Yaga, the big boss, basically tells Satoru has to bring Suguru in now because he's a danger to himself and others. Suguru skips town because Satoru more or less gives him a warning to leave by sunrise because he can't bring himself to hurt his friend.

Suguru makes himself a name as both a terror and a hero over the years as he hunts down people from the group that attacked his beloved's family home, since they're causing problems everywhere in the west. ( he totally has a gang comprised of characters that were his most loyal cultists from og canon )

It culminates to an insane showdown/shoot out in another settlement where Suguru happens to sees a kid stumble into the mess. Despite his lack of empathy and convoluted and unresolved emotions he can't find it in himself to abandon a child, so he scoops up the kid and tosses them to one of his gang mates

uhhh satoru is there it's a mess and something something, when it ends the child's mother is shouting the kids name, and Suguru pauses his escape because he recognizes that voice that's haunted him in his sleep for years and he turns around, there she is, his beloved. Alive and well. The child wiggles away from his men and runs to her, shouting mom.

Suguru didn't really look at the kid before but he does now. That black hair and purple eyes. Just like him. And his beloved looks up at him, ready to thank him for saving her child when she realizes it's him.

And all those emotions he thought he locked away comes undone and Suguru is just a fucking mess. They're here. They're alive. Somehow, they escaped their kidnappers and they've survived.

something something

idk the overarching mess of that one gang is resolved once Satoru and Suguru team up one last time to take the leader down and Satoru once again turns away and lies to Yaga that Suguru died in the shoot out. Suguru, their lover and child begin a new life together far away from it all on a ranch of their own.

okay I literally want to write this so bad and I love it so much — I’ve been racking my head for a western story and this is so good!!!

if you don’t mind, I would love to write this 🥹🥹🥹

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

Tess' Sharpuary - 9. Portrait

It's 1938, and sleep is evading Aesop. Difficult times are coming, and he can't help being worried for his family.

chapter specific tags: small angst, anxiety, comfort

relationships: aesop sharp x reader, aesop sharp & aesop's children

a/n: today I give you - aged up and bespeckled aesop. aged like a fine wine in my opinion 😁

9. Portrait (1.1k)

tw: mentions of ww2

Aesop Sharp, former Auror, former professor, and current shop owner, slowly walked through the hallway of his own home. It was the middle of the night, and his wife slept soundly in their bed. It was very rare for him not to be in there with her, sleeping even more soundly, snoring even (though he’d deny it), all the while keeping her nice and close in his tight embrace. It was most unusual for him to be up and about when he could instead have her warm soft body to hold.

Truth be told, he’s had trouble sleeping lately. His beloved homeland was on the brink of war. Again. 

And while the new situation brought a few positive things, like his daughter Magdala coming back with her husband and children to live in England, not wanting to be separated from them for years on end once more, it brought a lot of negatives as well. Those who thought the Great War was the worst thing to have ever befallen and would ever befall England were now positively terrified. 

From what the elder wizard knew, Muggles invented and developed so many wonderful things in the past twenty years, and he was once more convinced that Muggles could achieve anything they set their minds on even without magic. This conviction was further reinforced by Evelyn, his daughter-in-law, who, despite being a Muggle, had an amazingly brilliant head on her shoulders.

On the other hand, Muggles invented some fairly terrifying things as well... If his sources were correct, nobody would be truly safe, Muggles or wizards, and Aesop was terrified for his large family. He knew the chances of anything happening to himself and his wife were fairly slim since both of them lived so far in the Scottish countryside, but he worried a lot for his two sons and their families. Theodore lived with his wife and small son in London, and Eleazar and Evie worked in their shop in Diagon Alley every day. He had no doubt that if there was a war to come, London would be a number one target for enemy pilots. 

He and his wife talked about it fairly often, after every bit of news that could be heard on the wireless. They were ready to accept their children with their families as guests if need be, they were completely prepared to keep them safe with them, and shelter them, even though all of them were grown, capable adults with their own children. They’d make it work - they could maybe try to make the rooms larger, or even make use of the magically enhanced treehouse his children would play in when they were young. They’d have to make it work, so that everyone was safe…

All these thoughts were running wild in his head as he observed the many, many, many picture frames with photographs and portraits they kept in the hallway. From ones that were now over 80 years old, such as his parents’ wedding picture, to photographs as new as a week old. 

He smiled as his eyes took in every single one of them as they had done so many times before.

Portrait photograph of him the day he became a fully-fledged Auror, smiling confidently at the camera, flashing his teeth in a grin. He and Ashley on his 28th Birthday, ounging about in the Leaky cauldron, each with a glass of Firewhisky. His own wedding photos, he and his wife looking so very happy and in love, their eyes ever so slightly red from crying out of happiness. The pictures of their children in various stages of growth. Pictures that ranged from professionally done portraits to tiny little moments forever captured in time. They were all beloved absolutely, and he and his wife had long since given up on sorting out at least a few of them. 

Because of course they couldn’t! The photo of six-year-old Maggie in their bathtub, posing with a mountain of foam upon her head was very important, a photograph like this couldn’t be just hidden away! And neither could be the photo of Aesop buried in sand by the children, only his head peeking out, or Eleazar sleeping in one of his father’s cauldrons as a toddler, or Theo reading Beedle the Bard’s stories to little Natty who was ill with a cold. All of the many photographs of their grandchildren. Such small, little moments. Almost silly.  And yet, each of them built up the mosaic that was their life, making them vital to the elder wizard. And so, instead of sorting through them, and hiding some of them away in albums, the couple started working on a spell that would allow them to put multiple photographs into each frame, in a way that would have the photograph change every once in a while. It was not yet ready, but the former professor believed they were on the right path.

His hands took hold of one of the picture frames sitting on a wooden bureau. It was one of his all time favourites. A portrait of his wife sitting on a bench in their garden, just sort of watching the birds. It was the sole and only picture she was willing to take down, but Aesop straight-up refused. It was taken in July 1897 by Aesop himself, and neither of them had any idea yet that she was carrying Magdala Dinah Sharp under her heart already. Her body, however, seemed to have known, as she had a hand on her stomach, and was smiling unconsciously. 

No, Aesop refused to take this one down.

It was, after all, the beginning of the madly large collection of pictures they had now.

In this one sole picture, Aesop knew, was the reason he had trouble sleeping. Some 50 years ago, he had no idea he’d ever have this much to lose. But he was absolutely not about to lose anyone to this horrible war. He was through with losing loved ones. With a newfound determination that brought upon a strange feeling of comfort, he pressed a small kiss to the picture, before putting it down and making his way back to his bedroom.

Noiselessly, he took off his dressing gown and haphazardly placed it over a dresser, deposited his glasses upon the nightstand, and carefully slid under the covers next to his beloved. He knew he woke her up, she’s always been a light sleeper. The woman turned towards him and laid her head upon her chest, her arms wrapping around his torso. He gratefully settled into her embrace, the warmth of her body seeping into his own sweetly, his own arm curling around her shoulders.

“Are you alright, my love?” she whispered into the dark room, not wanting to break the atmosphere of their peaceful night. “I am,” Aesop replied in kind, “and I’m going to do everything in my power to ensure that we all are.”

And with that, sleep finally claimed him.

---

Thank you so much for reading! ❤

[AO3] - [Sharpuary 2024] - [Masterlist]

[luvrodite]

second star (988)

part of the dad!jason au. reader is referred to as 'mommy', female child original character, child illness, angst, allusions to canon relationships, bruce + dick make an appearance, happy ending.

your daughter falls ill when she's about four years old. it's the kind of sickness that leaves her bed-ridden for a while, her little coughs echoing down the hall while you make her soup with a tight heart. jason fares worse, tension lining his brow and you can see the shards of his broken heart glimmering in his eyes every time she cries.

he reads to her a lot, his drowsy, tired girl curled up in his arms while he turns the pages of her favourite book. the edges of the paper are softened from the years, the scrawl of her name on the front page wobbly and overlapping the title. most times, she falls asleep before he can finish the first chapter, but it's fitful, full of shallow breaths and restless murmuring. he doesn't leave her bedside, and in the end, neither do you, taking up residence in the armchair beside her bed while her father – too big for the princess bed her beloved uncle had bought her last year – hangs his legs off the bed frame.

she cries when you hold her as jason changes her bedding, her muscles aching in time with your heart. her curls are damp with sweat, her face with tears. you murmur promises to her, kissing her salt-tracked face, i know, baby, i know. it'll be quick, i promise. daddy just has to put new covers on.

sickness is no stranger to jason's family, who've had their fair share of broken bones and other wounds. still, they come by and you watch them try their best to hide their worry. dick, kneeling by his best girl's bed and softly tucking a curl behind her ear. hi, sweetheart, he murmurs sweetly, doing okay? 'course you are, brave girl. he presses brand new stuffed toy into her arms, tucking the giraffe under the covers.

he leaves her with a hug, and you watch jason follow him out of the room, unwilling to let his older brother go just yet. the front door remains shut, and you know that they've gravitated to the kitchen, low voices muffled through the walls. you turn to your girl, her tired eyes fixed on the orange splotches, mouth open as she touches its ears. mama, look. like on tv, she says tiredly, and you grin.

when you get better, we can write dickie a card to say thank you, huh?

one by one, the rest of the family come to visit their girl. and jason says very little, face stiffer and more solemn than he ought to be at his twenty nine years old, but you know him. he's glad they're here. devastated about why. terrified as to what might come.

he'd cried the night she was born, more than once. the first time he'd seen her, tiny, wrinkled thing that she was. the first time he'd held her – his whole world, right in the palm of his hands, he'd told you later that night in a whisper, watercolour eyes tearful and not for the first time that night. didn't ever think i would get here. thought maybe i got lucky with you, he had confessed. my luck can't be so bad if i've got her, too.

you knew he was remembering those words, remembering the ones he'd told you he loved you for the first time. i'm a cursed man, sweetheart. you'd be better off with someone else. and yet...and yet i'm too selfish not to tell you i want you. i love you.

it seems especially cruel a joke of fate to allow him this chance at happiness, and threaten it so quickly.

the doctor comes and goes. bruce pays for it before the man has left the room, and you think your husband might come to physical blows with his father, in the living room, when he finds out. he doesn't. 's not for me, he tells you later, when your baby girl has fallen asleep, his face pressed into your neck. he loves her, too.

and you can't deny it, the way your father-in-law dotes on her. the grumpy old man is wrapped around her littlest finger, as charmed as you've ever seen him when your firefly seeks him out at family gatherings. she spends most of dinner by his side, insistent on sitting next to papa, much to your chagrin and reminder of her manners. it's fine, he assures you quietly. she's much better behaved than any of my children.

you know that it simultaneously warms and embitters your husband, to watch him be so good with your daughter.

she gets better slowly.

the worst of it passes in the slowest night of your life, spent wetting rags and coaxing her to take the medicine she'd been prescribed, feeding bites of food to her while holding back your own fearful tears. jason takes over when she starts to throw a tantrum, only to run out of steam and cry quietly. you have to leave the room for a moment, struggling to catch your breath.

hey, he murmurs, from the next room. you think you can take a bite for me? i know, angel, but you gotta eat something. tell you what, i'll help you finish this, and when you're better, you, me and mommy are gonna go on a trip. anywhere you want.

beach? you hear her feeble voice suggest and he hums.

yeah. you wanna go swimming?

uh-huh.

the bowl is empty by the time you return, and you don't know if it's hope that colours your vision and puts rose in the apples of her cheeks. but jason seems to see it too, and you see grief and relief in his eyes when he catches your gaze. you stand by the bed, and his fingers find yours. in her pyjamas, your girl points to the book on her bedside table.

she stays awake to see the end of the book.

i don't know what spurred this on but i wanted to rip my heart out a little. unnamed todd baby you are the light of my life. i kept thinking about that poem about the father who got his sick daughter plums and just about in general how fathers love. it makes me so ill especially thinking about my own but i wanted to put jason in that situation and do it while trying to stay true to canon (somewhat). anyway. hope u liked this. it's unedited and hastily written but i hope it makes you feel something.

[secretlythepits]

He says that every hour he wants to scream.

I don’t blame him.

I worry about anger coming out sideways, not that there is any hint of that, just that it’s something humans do and I don’t want it to come my way. I am overloaded as it is. Besides worry for the logistics, I wonder if he thinks of missing me. I wonder if he’s jealous. Probably a little of both. It is very strange to be openly discussing his death but also avoiding certain topics like the plague.

I read that only 5% of widows remarry. That’s wildly low to me. I am not looking for a second marriage. I am not looking for love. I know it’s something that will have to find me as I have other priorities (not just responsibilities, but also dreams to pursue). I have been looking for an escape hatch for a while and now it feels like the bottom of the plane just disappeared at 20,000 feet.

The reality of the fall feels very different than the fantasy.

I am going to be alone.

The kids are close to graduation, one is only a year and half away. I have longed for some solitude and autonomy. Some is the keyword. It’s one thing to travel alone and then come back to a family, but will I really want to travel by myself and then live by myself? Won’t I get lonely? I am a solid half and half introvert/ extrovert. I need both. I remember both living life on my terms and feeling unloved when I was single. My birth chart says I will have a second, happier marriage— and that’s fun and unreal to think about.

Last night I tried to imagine my life after him in happy terms. The things I would do, the freedom I would feel. Caregiving is already so emotionally draining and I expect that to get worse and for it to become physically draining as well. I suppose his passing will come with a sense to relief from setting down that burden.

I realize that these thoughts are future worries. They take me out of my present worries and feel more mysterious and less impossible.

Seriously, how am I going to do this every day and have it only get harder? How can I focus on building my career when I am constantly reminded of all the pain he/ we are in?

I hope he feels great until the very end. That’s probably unrealistic, but I don’t want this to be drawn out torture. I want life until no life.

I hope he is able to ride his new bike for a long time. Cycling has always brought him joy, peace, and the present moment. I really worry that his tumored lungs will ruin it. He is not the therapy type. This is his way to work it out.

I’ve been noticing brain symptoms of mine popping up. Stress? Not enough sleep? It’s a nagging worry I keep to myself.

I’ve also had a case of the why me?s. If your parents are still alive, a part of me hates you out of jealousy. I mean, losing both parents by 43? And a husband at 50? I have already lost all the other major grownups of my childhood too. Come on, that’s just not fair! It boggles my mind that people my age and even decades older than me haven’t lost any primary person yet.

I’m ok. I can handle loss, but the thought that troubles me is: is this going to always be a constant in my life? Losing beloveds. My circle feels so small.

In my fantasy world last night, I imagined my sons married and giving me grandkids I doted on. They think I’m a crazy nana and they are right. I am adventurous and a free spirit with them. I imagined being remarried to someone who always wanted to hold my hand and tell me how much he loves me. I imagined having bonus grandkids I was allowed to nana too. I imagined feeling like my daughters in law and step daughter felt like my girls in my heart. They loved me back equally. I saw a home with lots of people getting up and down and moving around during some family gathering. It was full of life and love. I was a part of it all.

Will that be possible for me?

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Hi. I’m completely obsessed with your stories and writing style. I haven’t read anything from you I haven’t enjoyed. Can I please have a Law x Doflamingo daughter reader (fluffy angst or angsty fluff)? She was closer to Corazon (she learned Corazon’s secret but never told her father). Her and Law grew up together. When Corazon takes Law to find a cure, both of them promise to come back for her. But we know what happens with that whole thing (I’m 100% crying over that still). Then with Dressrosa, they reunite (remember their mutual feelings for each other that haven’t seemed to go away) and she helps them take down her father. Thank you!

I'm so glad you like my writing! I hope you like this one as much as my others!

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, Dressrosa spoilers, Doffy being... Doffy

Word Count:  1500

     How many years had it been since your uncle had left? You missed him. You vaguely knew what had happened to him. Your father had killed him for being a traitor. When you’d ‘learned’ about the truth behind his death, you’d pretended to be surprised, even though you’d known what he was a long time ago. He’d been more like a father to you than your actual father, kind, caring, nurturing. For all of your father’s talk about family, he was a shit father. Giolla had taken care of Baby 5, Dellinger, and Buffalo, but your father had insisted on ‘raising you himself’. As if by taking care of you, you’d turn out like him. But in a way, he himself was proof that that wasn’t always true, being nothing like his own mother and father. You missed Law as well, having gotten along quite well with the angry little boy. Even before he got to know Corazon well, you’d gotten along with him. Something in him just clicked with you. What was worse was that they’d promised to come back, promised to save you from this hell. Family this, family that, acting as if he was a kind and nurturing man. But he was just as much of a monster with his own family as he was with others. Those who didn’t obey him were… punished. In that moment of hope, in the split second where you thought that you would finally be free of him, you were brought crashing back down to the reality that you would never be free. As if you were a bird, a bird trapped in his cage. So you learned to obey him, you learned to do as he wished, to hide your true thoughts and feelings, to bury your morals, and to be the ruthless killer he desired. It wasn’t what you wanted, it wasn’t what you desired to do, but for the sake of not suffering the same fate as your beloved uncle, you did what you had to. In the depths of your heart and on the anniversary of your uncle’s death, you clung desperately to the same desire to be free as the day that they left. That one day, through some miracle, you might have a chance to escape. 

     Standing in the throne room with your father, you felt your heart skip a beat. He’d mentioned Law coming to Dressrosa, about what he would do to Law and the boy he was with, Luffy. It was a slim hope, little more than a tiny sliver, but it was something. You didn’t need much, just an opening, just enough to contact and reach Sengoku. He might not have raised your father, but having raised your uncle, you considered him as close to a grandfather as you might ever have. Corazon had told you about growing up with the man, about how kind he was. Sengoku could keep you safe, hide you from your father, it wasn’t the most ideal situation, but anything to get away from your father. All you needed was an opportunity, a lull in your father’s guard, just a second to slip away. If you could, if it was possible, you’d leave with Law, if you had the chance, he’d keep his promise and come for you, but you hadn’t had that kind of hope in years, your father was powerful, strong enough that few people could match him. While you yearned for an end to your father, you couldn’t bring yourself to pray for it like you did for your freedom. Freedom was an attainable goal, your father’s end seemed impossible by all but the yonkos. 

     Glancing at Law, chained to the throne of heart, you couldn’t stop the pounding of your heart. You’d been so close, leaving the boy as many tiny breadcrumbs as possible, little things to help him, things that would give you a chance. Had he simply not noticed them? Or had he outright ignored them? Either way, your sliver, your chance, was once again beginning to diminish and you weren’t sure you could handle that without breaking. Should this chance pass, should your liberation be once more out of reach, you may just fall into despair. It wasn’t long until things turned chaotic, until you were facing your father, your weapon out as you blocked a hit aimed for Law.

     “How many times must I be betrayed by my family? How much must I endure?” your father asked, seething with anger as you pushed against him. You knew you were no match for him, but you didn’t have to be. You could tell that Luffy and Law could do this, you just needed to provide them with an opening.

     “You and I were never family. Your blood may run through my veins, but only my uncle Rosinante and Law were ever my family. I’ve only ever sought your downfall, ever since I was a child, I’ve wanted nothing more than your death!” you shouted, pushing him back momentarily. You and Law traded, the boy surging forward to attack, repeatedly defended from Doflamino’s attacks by your weapon, allowing him to focus on wounding the man. Again and again, Law would attack, you would defend. Finally, the both of you kneeled before your father, his gun aimed at your heads. Law’s arm lay, severed on the ground as you faced your execution.

     “I’m… I’m sorry Y/n. I’m sorry I didn’t return sooner. I regret forcing you to endure this long.” he said softly, holding his arm where it had been removed.

     “You promised to come back, you never promised when. I suppose… I suppose if I had to die, I’m glad it was by your side.” you said with a small smile at him, “Just… before that, I want you to know… I always loved you.” you said, tears starting to fall down your cheeks, Law’s eyes widening while your father’s eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses. Blood dripped from his arm faster as he let go of it, taking your hand in his, giving a small smile. It wasn’t much, but you knew what he was telling you. Closing your eyes, you awaited your death.

     Wrapping Law’s arm, you smiled softly. Through some miracle, your father was now in chains, your deepest wish had been granted. Not only were you free, but your father had been taken down in the process. Law’s arm had been healed, he would have full use of it again, but you insisted on bandaging it in the off chance it started bleeding again or began hurting. At least, that was your excuse, in truth, you simply wanted to feel his skin beneath your fingertips, as if to prove that this was all real, that this wasn’t another dream. 

     “Y/n.” Law called, drawing your attention back to the man, “I may not have said it up there, but I love you as well. I have since we were young, I wanted to return to you sooner, but had no way of freeing you.” he said, making you smile. 

     “You still returned for me, that’s all I could ever ask for.” you said, gently tying his bandage, your eyes remaining on his as you gave his bandaged arm a small kiss. Law couldn’t help the blush that spread across his cheeks, looking away, making you giggle. 

     “Then I’d like to ask you something.” Law said, still blushing as you tilted your head in confusion, “I’d like you to join the Heart Pirates, to sail with me. I’m sure you’re sick of pirates after… everything, but I’d like to… you’ve gotten strong, you’d make a great addition.” he said, his cheeks turning an even brighter pink. He’d just told you he loved you, why couldn’t he bring himself to tell you that he wanted you by his side?

     “You have no idea how much I’d like that. It was something I never dared dream for, but desired all the same.” you said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. His cheeks were brighter than ever, the young man beyond flustered as he pulled his hat over his eyes, trying to hide his face. 

     “Th-then once we reach the rest of the crew, I’ll introduce you and you can become an official part of the crew and…” Law swallowed hard, pulling his hat even lower, his voice barely a whisper, “And perhaps… we could…” Law found himself unable to finish his sentence, freezing in place as you gave him a quick peck on the lips.

     “I’d really like that, all of that. Even the parts that you can’t say.” you said, caressing the stunned man’s cheek. He could still feel your lips on his as his heart pounded. All you’d wanted as a child was freedom from your father, all he’d wanted as a child was to live long enough to tell you how he felt. It seemed as if today was a day of hope and dreams.

[lizzy-bonnet]

Austenian Dads

A recent post about mothers-in-law by @bethanydelleman had me thinking about the dads in Jane Austen. We get a lot of discourse about mothers and mother figures, who have big, important roles in the stores, but her depictions of fatherhood are interesting too. Here, in my opinion, are the dads and dad-like figures in her novels, ranked from best to worst.

(note: I've left out deceased and barely-there dads, but I will note that Mr. Dashwood's attempt to look out for his daughters, and the amount of grief occasioned by his death, indicate that he is a Top Dad.)

Mr. Musgrove - Notwithstanding "poor Richard", Mr. Musgrove has three reasonably well-adjusted adult children, seems to love his younger children, and goes to his daughter's bedside when she is injured. His children all make Sensible Matches, and he likes kids enough to permit the little Harvilles to be brought back to Uppercross to increase its noise. He folds my beloved Anne into his family and treats her affectionately whenever she is with them. By the standards of the day, he seems pretty solid. 8/10 Least Bad Dad.

Sir John Middleton - Like Mr. Musgrove, Sir John is a people person. His immediate and unreserved adoption of the Dashwoods in their hour of need tells us that he is an unambiguously good-hearted person, which usually leads to loving parenting. His kids are young so we don't see him interacting much with them, but his desire to give everyone a nice time bodes well. He doesn't notice when his teasing goes to far. 7/10 definitely tells the same dad joke over and over.

Mr. Bennet - As a reader I love him because he's pithy, but he's honestly not a great dad, and is not modeling a happy marriage for his daughters. He shows favouritism to Lizzy, lets Lydia run wild, is hurtful towards Mary and Kitty, and fails to save up any money to bribe worthless young men to marry his daughters. 5/10 for putting all his eggs in the "having a son" basket and then doing nothing when the handle on the basket breaks.

Lt. Price - Loud, embarrassing, shiftless. Ignores his daughters but seems to maybe do OK with his sons? 3.5/10, tops.

Sir Walter Elliot - This fucking guy, am I right? He's vain, he's self-obsessed, he's a spendthrift, and he's a dreadful parent. His eldest daughter is his favourite and he basically forgets Anne and Mary exist when they're not directly in front of him (and sometimes doesn't notice them even when they are). His favouritism has damaged Anne and Mary in different ways to Mr. Bennet's to his younger daughters, but the source is the same: he has one child who is like him and others that he doesn't click with, so he basically lets them shift for themselves. In the Elliot household I'm certain this means that sensitive Anne was left to grieve her mother without any comfort from her father. It's no wonder she was ready to marry the first loving man she saw. When he sees her looking well, he thinks it's down to her skin care regimen. 3/10 merely Gowland's.

Sir Thomas Bertram - Poor Fanny, her father figures are both the pits. Sir Thomas knows absolutely zero about what any of his kids are like and can't see how bad Aunt Norris's influence is on all of them. He swings wildly between neglectful and overbearing, and then tries to pressure Fanny into marrying Henry Crawford despite his attentions making her visibly miserable. He also knows perfectly well that Fanny is shy, and yet does not give her any warning that he's throwing a ball for her coming out, plus he sends her home to Portsmouth as a sort of weirdo punishment to make her see what she's missing by not marrying Henry. 2/10 points and he really only gets these for 1. offering to free Maria from her engagement and 2. getting a fire in Fanny's grate, even if he left it until WAY too late to do her much good.

General Tilney - the closest Austen gives us to a villainous parent. The General is dictatorial to his children, oppressive around the house and occasionally creepy towards Catherine. This is made apparent by the fact that the Abbey suddenly becomes much more fun when he goes off to London. He shows himself the ultimate Bad Dad by tossing his daughter's friend out of the house without explanation and hardly the resources to get herself home. 0/10 Gothic Tyrant Dad.

[mosneakers]

Just a simple blink. And when Coraleye opens her eyes again, she and Agnes have transported to a new location.

Momentarily disoriented, Coraleye gasps in awe as recognition dawns upon her. Coraleye: Oh, I've been here before! This was your home in Moonlight Falls, wasn't it? A really sweet girl named Janie lives here now; she let me stay over once.

Agnes: Oh yes, Ms. Books. I have a feeling you'll be revisiting this house again very soon, sweetheart. [Smiles]

Agnes: [Continues] To answer your question, honey, Erik loved it here. We crafted a charming life for ourselves in this house. Our daughters thrived, we had good jobs. It was a time of contentment—a lovely chapter in our lives, really...

Coraleye: But something was missing...

Agnes: [Frowns and softly nods] Yes. And my goodness, did the guilt weigh awfully heavy on my heart! I had everything a poor widow could ask for: two darling daughters, a roof over my head, I was reunited with my beloved husband, for goodness sakes...

Coraleye frowns, offering comfort by softly grazing Agnes's back. Coraleye: [Softly] Grandma... Sometimes the heart wants what it wants, and it doesn't care about how things are "supposed" to go.

Agnes: I was so young... just like you, darling. And at that age, I still yearned for the finer things in life. Though I never said it aloud, Erik knew. He'd write about it occasionally. If it were up to him, we'd have stayed put, and put our savings towards expanding our family. But for me, I was just fine with two daughters. I would've much rather put our earnings towards offering our children a more comfortable lifestyle in Sunset Valley.

Coraleye: Well the difference is clear to see; you are beaming here! And it looks like those guests are really enjoying Grandpa's company. Agnes: Oh yes, that's Pauline and Hank Goddard. Erik was always the life of every party. Had almost everyone in stitches.

Coraleye: I couldn't help but notice lots of whispering going around when you weren't looking, though... Agnes: My, my... you are quite astute, babydoll. No, truth is I knew all about the whispering. Hank Goddard's in law enforcement; he was there when Erik was pronounced dead. The story we presented them was that Erik miraculously recovered from a lengthy coma through the power of prayer. Christopher Steele has his suspicions, but kept quiet about them since that dreadful incident.

Coraleye's glowing eyes widen with intrigue. Coraleye: ...The Sunset Valley Massacre?

Agnes: [Single nod] That's the one. Come darling, our time is fleeting, and there's much more to explore. After all, we wouldn't want to leave two hearts vying for your attention alone together for too long. I've read my fair share of novels where such scenarios end disastrously. [Wink]