#esme fairfield

[heleneplays]

Iconic lines - Ch. 7, Relics 2: The Crusader's Tomb

Can I just say what powerful *fake_choice these flavor texts were??? bc it really seriously lives in my mind rent free. Like hello bestie the ENERGIES,,, aha they're so sexy

---

QUICK LINKS -> [Relics Book 3 | Dashingdon | Itch.io Direct][Relics Book 2 | COG/HG Direct | Google Playstore | Steam OG Forum | Forum Update | Author's Blog] [Relics Book 1 | CoG/HG Direct | Google Playstore | Steam] [Fan-run Discord Server (Spillane Clown Brigade) | Permalink] [My Ko-Fi | Link]

[iggydabirdkid]

Heyo!  This is the second of the 6 drawings I have planned for Pride Month! 

The Relics Trilogy is one I thoroughly enjoyed, and the ending legitimately made me cry. It was perfect and I loved it so much. So this is a little thing I drew and wrote for my Olivia Spillane and Esme Fairfield. +++++

We Have the Time

“Esme? Sweetheart? Where are you?”

You stand at the bottom of the stairwell as you shout, hands cupped around your mouth and your voice echoing back at you from the emptiness of the lofty entrance hall. Silence is all that greats you and you sigh, your foot beginning a nervous tap the sound dulled somewhat by the plush red carpet on which you stand. You remove your fob watch from the pocket of your faded waistcoat to check the time which only results in your free hand starting a restless drumming against your thigh.

“Esme! We’re going to be late!” You shout again, slipping the watch back into its resting place as the familiar sound of loud yet fond laughter spills into the lobby from above.

“Late for what Darling?” comes the amused reply soon after, accompanied by the sound of footsteps making their way down the winding staircase, “We’re in no hurry!” Esme’s laugh tickles your ears as she finally comes into view, standing atop the landing in a dress of green and yellow backlit by the rare occurrence of early afternoon sun. As she starts her way down the last lot of stairs towards you you find yourself enraptured by her visage, “I know we’re both used to rushing around…” she starts as her foot leaves the last step and the sun abandons her form, “And normally Darling you know I would be all for it.” She wears an easy smile as she strides over, stopping just before you and reaching to cup your face with her soft hands, “But right now, I’d just like to enjoy the day with you. We have the time.” She smiles and the fingers that had been pitter-pattering against your leg stop their motions the same time as your foot rests perfectly still against the carpet.

You huff out a small laugh before leaning forwards, Esme meeting you halfway in a brief yet sweet kiss, “I’m sorry. I guess it’s still hard for me to relax after everything.”

“You and me both.” The smile she gives you this time doesn’t quite reach her eyes and what years ago had started off as a merely a seed of guilt, before growing to a small sapling as it sent out roots and anchored itself into the center of your chest, sprouts even further. Unaware of your thoughts you watch as Esme steps back a few paces and looks you up and down, “Really?” she rolls her eyes yet still they twinkle, “You’re wearing your expedition gear to a picnic?” Though she teases you still link arms as you head towards the door.

“Isn’t that the same dress you wore to one of Rémy’s more tame parties?” You feel the corners of your lips quirk upwards as you fail to hide the grin that finds its home on your face. You continue speaking as you pull the creaking wooden door open and you both step into the pleasantly warm air of the day, “I’m surprised that you managed to get that stain out.”

“Oh quiet you!” she hushes as you pull the door shut, lock it up, and place the brass key safety into the pocket of your forest green pants. You laugh and the sound of crunching gravel fills the air as you walk across to your bright red Morris Eight, the top down and the picnic basket visible on the back seat. As you approach the vehicle you pull slightly ahead of Esme and open the passenger door, slipping your arm from hers as you mock bow.

“My lady,” you drawl in a ridiculous attempt at a British accent, “Your buggy awaits.” You receive a light slap on the shoulder and you straighten back up.

“Quit it!” Esme’s fixes you with a glare and you laugh, leaning towards her to place a kiss on her cheek.

“You know you love me,” you smile as she shakes her head with a sigh, squeezing your arm before stepping into the car. You shut the door, round to the driver’s side, and get in before turning in your seat you lean over into the back to open up the hinged lid of the wicker basket.

“Honey?” Esme’s voice reaches your ears as you roll up your sleeves to the crook of your elbows and begin checking through the contents of the basket.

“I just want to make sure that everything’s here,” you reply without turning to face her, “We don’t get a lot of days like this and I just want to make sure everything is perfect.” As you feel a hand gently place itself upon your shoulder you stiffen.

“Honey…” you stop your rummaging, “It doesn’t have to be perfect.” Esme squeezes your shoulder lightly but doesn’t let go, instead slowly but insistently she begins to pull you back up. You reluctantly allow her to do so, making sure the lid of the basket is closed and latched before turning back around completely.

“I…” you struggle to find the words as lay your arm across the back of your seat and your fingers begin to drum against the washed-out black leather.

“Olivia, it’ll be fine.” She smiles at you and the world seems brighter for it, “And if something is missing, though knowing you I doubt it will be-“ A hand rests against your restless fingers to stop the tapping you didn’t realize you were still doing, “We’ll adjust.” As her soft fingers curl around your own and squeeze you take a deep breath and sigh.

“Thank you Esme. You always know the right things to say.” You spare her a warm smile before pulling your arm away and righting yourself in your seat. You place the key in the ignition, turn it and hearing the comforting purr of your trusty cars engine puts you at ease. As you pull away from your home and begin to accelerate, Esme shouts to be heard above the wind,

“How about we take the scenic route!” You glance at her and she grins, “We have the time!”

-------

“This was a great idea Olivia,” Esme pats your knee with her free hand before taking a bite of her sandwich. You watch as she closes her eyes, a smile curving her lips as she turns her face into the sun to soak up its warmth.

All you do is watch her.  

All you can do is watch her.

She looks nothing short of an Angel, and you feel all the more blessed to be allowed to bask in her radiance. You don’t realize you’re drumming your fingers on your thigh until Esme is looking at you with a frown, her eyes momentarily flicking down to your hand. You curl your fingers into your palm and give her what you hope is a convincing smile but you’re a shit liar and she knows your tells by now.

“Something’s bothering you. And don’t try and deny it.” She shakes her half-eaten sandwich at you and you snort a brief laugh as some of the fillings drop out.

“Just thinking about how lucky I am to have you.”

“That’s all well and good-“ You knew she’d be able to see through your feeble attempt at diverting her question, “- but you’ve been restless since you first woke up this morning.”

You sigh, “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just want this to be a nice day and I keep overthinking, and I know you said you don’t care about it being perfect but I want to make it perfect for you, and I know I’ve been rushing but weather like this hardly ever lasts long and-“ your rambling is stopped short as you watch Esme throw her sandwich to the side and tackle you to the ground. A squeak of surprise leaves your mouth as your back hits the scratchy fibers of the blanket beneath you.

“Olivia Spillane,” Esme mumbles as one of her arms flops over your waist. You smile and maneuver an arm beneath her, allowing her the rest her head upon your breast, “You think far too much.” You begin stroking your fingers through her golden hair, your other arm moving to grasp her upper arm and you pull her closer to you, “You always think so much. It’s what makes you you.” You hum in agreement, “But the war is over. We’re married. We have a stunning house and fantastic friends and you can afford to let your mind rest.”

“I just…”

“Shhhh,” Esme shushes you and you let out a soft laugh. She squeezes your waist and you lay your hand flat against her hair, drawing her just that bit closer to you as you rest a cheek atop her head and close your eyes against the glare of the sun overhead, “No thinking. No talking. We can just lay here, take in the sun, and relax.” You smile at her words, “We have the time.”

[jamesshawgames]

Character Profile: Esme Fairfield

Name: Lady Esmerelda Hortensia Frideswide Hildegunde Fairfield, Duchess of Dewsbury

Date of Birth: 17th May, 1911

Place of Birth: Cranthorpe House, Yorkshire, England

Appearance:

Bio: Lady Esmerelda Fairfield (she hates the title) is the daughter of Jolyon Fairfield, a landed aristocrat and peer of the realm, and his wife Constance. Two years after Esme was born, Constance died in childbirth, but the baby, Esme’s younger sister Harriet, survived. Esme’s father never remarried. Jolyon was only peripherally involved in Esme’s upbringing, as he was often absent from their ancestral Yorkshire estate for long periods on mysterious “business” in London. Harriet and Esme were mostly raised by Miss Strickland, their fierce Scottish governess. She gave the children a good general education, as well as teaching them all the skills that were expected of young aristocratic ladies: correct deportment, polite conversation, fashion, dancing, playing the piano. Esme was awful at most of these things, and she came to hate her lessons – especially since Miss Strickland was a fierce disciplinarian – but Harriet flourished, and soon grew up into exactly the sort of daughter that Jolyon wanted, respectable, polite, submissive and eager for a good marriage and a conventional upper-class life.

Esme had other ideas. Around the age of eleven, she started sneaking off the estate looking for adventure. More than once she was caught with some of the local village children, up to no good, climbing trees, breaking into abandoned places, scrapping with the village bully or scrumping for apples in old Farmer Barraclough’s orchard. She much preferred these exciting pursuits to the tedium of her lessons. In a strange way, though, and despite all the fierce punishments, it always seemed that Miss Strickland preferred the spirited Esme to the submissive Harriet, and Esme herself quietly came to love her governess. She could never understand why her father was so sure that a proper lady should grow up to be compliant, quiet and obedient, when the very governess he had hired to raise his daughters was none of these things.

When she turned sixteen, her father allowed her to leave the estate and travel with him to London, to his Mayfair townhouse, to take advantage of the cultural opportunities of the capital. By day, she did what her father wanted, visiting the museums and historical sites and high society events he expected. But by night, she often slipped out and found another London, one that appealed to her a lot more, a place of shady late-night jazz bars teeming with even shadier big-city criminals. Her childhood taste for adventure had never left her: she enjoyed the thrill of being in dangerous places, around dangerous people. A few years before this, she had begun to read some of her father’s recreational books, novels of high adventure in foreign climes by authors like H. Rider Haggard. These colonialist adventure stories filled her head with a glamorous picture of “The East”. Unusually for an aristocratic youth, she had never travelled – her father was too protective to let her go abroad – and soon she became gripped by a fierce desire to go and discover the Middle East for herself, and maybe to experience a few of these adventures in person.

On her eighteenth birthday, she asked her father for his permission to go traveling, to complete her education. He flat-out refused and gave her two options: she could either start looking for a husband or enroll in one of the ladies’ colleges at Oxford or Cambridge. She took Option C – she snuck off the estate one night with a suitcase full of Papa’s money, hopped the train to Liverpool and bought herself passage on the first ship to Beirut. With no clear idea what she wanted to see or do, she shook off the shackles of her sheltered upbringing and immersed herself in exploration. She soon realized that the Orientalizing image that her father’s books had given her of this part of the world was wrong, but luckily she loved the reality even more than the fantasy. Those first few months, she travelled widely, to Jerusalem, Amman, Cairo and Luxor, getting into wild scrapes every step of the way. She was picking up new skills all the time: in particular, she discovered that she was a natural with a pistol, as good a sharpshooter as anybody. But eventually, when Papa’s money ran out, she had no choice but to call England, for a tense, long-overdue conversation.

Her enraged father at first insisted that she return immediately, but she flat-out refused. Reluctantly, unwilling to simply abandon his daughter with nothing, Jolyon agreed to wire her cash on a monthly basis. In the years that followed, the old man slowly came to accept that his daughter wasn’t going to be what he wanted her to be, but it was tough at first, every conversation an ordeal. Esme herself, taking inspiration from other gentlewoman-adventurers like the famous Gertrude Bell, immersed herself in the local cultures, mastering Arabic to an almost-native level of proficiency and picking up some competence in several other local languages besides. She started taking on paying work to supplement her income: surveying the desert for cartography companies, accompanying archaeological expeditions through dangerous terrain, even doing freelance work for some Western intelligence agencies in the area. And then, about a year after she had arrived in Beirut, she went to Istanbul for the first time and crossed paths with the man who would change her life.

It was in a seedy café in Sultanahmet. Goons working for a Syrian gangster whom Esme had crossed backed her into a corner. Abdul al-Maliki, exiled prince of a deposed royal family, spotted the danger and swooped in to help her take care of her assailants. Before the day was out, they were in bed together. Esme soon learned that Abdul had the same attitude to love that she had first heard about from some avant-garde poets back in London: that a person could love more than one person, that love shouldn’t be a jealous or exclusive or restrictive thing. She and Abdul embarked on their long-lasting love affair, though both of them maintained other relationships at the same time. Abdul was smitten with Esme, and he agreed to leave his family home and travel with her on her adventures. Soon, the pair of them were well-known right across the Middle East and the Maghreb as fearless adventurers and explorers, never far from trouble.

Esme could never resist getting into danger or helping hopeless underdogs. And so, one day in 1934, when she spotted a hapless archaeologist being hunted through Jerusalem’s Old City by Nazi agents, she just had to get involved and lend a hand. And so began the greatest adventure of Esme Fairfield’s life…

[botheredbeewitched]

Esme Eliza Fairfield Graham

" I've looked death in the eyes, felt its embrace, kissed its icy lip, yet I didn't fall under its spell. I stood my ground and fought to stay alive."

Esme is the youngest and last child of Hortencia and Francis before he passed away a couple of years later. So despite being a Fairfield, Esme feels closer to the Butterworth children.

Sorted into Ravenclaw during her Hogwarts years, Esme was an avid reader and enjoy writing poetry about fantasy creatures and places. She was part of the Wizard Chess club and the Frog Choir. Had an aptitude for the CoMC, charms, and Alchemy.

In her CoMC classes she discovered an interest for the tiny flying creatures - Doxies, Pixies and Faries - and decided to specialize in that after she was done with school. She would study their venom, behavior, reproduction, the use of their part as ingredients and wandlore, and how to deal with them in cases of infestation, even producing a better version of the antivenom available at the time. (Several of her studies were later used by Newt Scamander in his own research.)

Esme married, soon after Hogwarts, her Hogwarts bestfriend and sweetheart, the Gryffindor, Jonah Graham. He also went into Magizoology, but as a Ministry Official, specifically in the Troll Patrol at the Beast Division. Not too long after their marriage, Esme fell pregnant of their only daughter, Melissa. Unfortunately, about two years later, Jonah was killed trying to protect Esme.

Sander Fernwall was a fellow housemate of Esme but knew her from their young years, and was completely obsessed with her, went as far as giving her a love potion spiked tea, which made her infatuated with him for a total of one day until Jonah noticed and took her to take the antidote. After that they never spoked again despite his attempts at apologizing.

Despite the silence, the distance, then later her marriage to Jonah, his obsession for her never subsided. When one day, completely drunk on firewhiskey, he apparated by their house and attacked them with the intent of having them and himself killed. But neither of them would go doen without a fight, especially considering their daughter's life was at risk.

Long story short, Jonas is fatally hit by a Confringo spell, and as Sander realizes she has no intention of giving in or killing him once and for all, he decides to run away.

Except after a week of grieving and her family hunting for Sander, Esme finds out Jonah left behind a print of his soul, meaning he decided to become ghost, despite know this would trap him forever, he just couldn't leave and without watching his son grow. As happy as she is to have him 'back', she knows it'll never be the same, never touch or feel his warmth again, never grow old together, never have him taste her recipes, and - as much as the thought shames her - feel as if she won't be able to be with somebody else since her dead husband is a ghost that'll hunt her until she dies.

It's complicated.

Esme can be very vain and spoiled sometimes, considering she was the youngest of the Fairfield children and very pretty since a young age. Despite that she has charm that drives people in and is great at making people feel special.

But much of her personality changes after that tragedy, she had lost her father, but was far too young to remember much of him, losing Jonah and losing her sense of safety and stability, rocked her world in a way her essence couldn't remain the same.

Very easily butts heads with the Butterfield side of the family since the younger girls were getting the attention that was almost exclusively hers, and also, as she grows older, she fails to place her under her so precious Ravenclaw-like order.

After Jonah's death, even after he returns as a ghost, she decides to sell her house to go back to live with her mother and dedicates most of her off-work time to taking care of Melissa.

Her relationship with Monroe was never the closest, to be fair her little sister always creeped her out a little with her constant enigmatic expression and silent ways. She's not completely opposed to her being sent away but feels guilty for encouraging her mother in this idea, that guilt growing even stronger after they find out Monroe does actually have powers.

Monroe ends up having a better relationship with Jonah's ghost than her own sister.

[goofyassauthor]

Conjunction ❂

As Bella and Edward settle into the second decade of their new life together, this time as college undergrads, Eve crashes into it with an almost equally powerful, brand new supernatural species and romance for them to navigate. Eve just wants to forget about home and graduate. Unfortunately for her, she is Edward and Bella's third and final mate. The two vampires think they've got this down pat and aren't expecting more from Eve than a fragile human and are delighted to find she is much, much more interesting than any of them could have known. Eve can't help but but be fascinated by the strange, attractive couple- and the longer she spends trying to decipher Edward and Bella, the less she can avoid the reality of her own unique biology.

Hello! I’ve been neck deep in the twilight renaissance for years now and the idea of Conjunction has totally consumed me for months so I’ve made a lil side blog to share it and any following chapters, mood boards, fics and headcannons I write.  I'm hoping to publish the first chapter on Ao3 in the next couple of days- you can read a teaser for it now under the cut! I would like to shout out @siswritespotterverseyanderes who has written the most AMAZING fic Rule One: Don't Be Afraid which was the final push for me to put this plot floating around in my brain into words! Rule One also features a polyamorous relationship with a complex, well-matched, sensible OC for two of the Cullens. Conjunction won’t feature an explicitly yandere dynamic like Rule One and instead features a Bella/Edward/OC relationship but Stephanie Meyer’s vampires truly do lend themselves to the trope quite nicely so if you notice me wander into yandere territory like @siswritespotterverseyanderes - thats why! I would also like to mention @seedandflame who I found just last night! (Writing this on the 26th of September 21') I LOVE the concept of releasing fan projects with teasers and their own dedicated blog. Conjunction won't get such special treatment from me but I've been quietly curating a Conjunction Pinterest board for a few weeks and it's so cool to see that there's other people on a similar wavelength. I can't wait to see what they've been cooking up on October 1st!

If you want some further details on Conjunction (think of it as a teaser for mostly chapter 1) see below!

Conjunction is less of a fix-it and more of a punt at redemption for Twilight. It deviates from the cannon at two points: prior to the events of the first book (the Cullens don’t spend time in Alaska before moving to Forks) and at the honeymoon. Bella never conceives, literally just has a great honeymoon, comes home, gets turned (Jacob fucks off into oblivion) and goes to college. Shortly after Charlie is also turned due to what would be an otherwise fatal *genuine for the first time in Forks history* animal attack. At the end of 2009 the coven, now including Charlie, leave Forks to spend another decade in a similarly dreary place but in 2020 everyone is already homesick. It's still too early to return to forks so in 2021 they move to Fairfield, Alaska which is where our story starts! This time they are all university students except for Esme and Carlisle (who have fallen into their traditional roles of doctor and wife and are now posing as the aunt and uncle of their (all adoptive of course) orphaned nieces and nephews and Charlie who now poses as their grandfather and simply vibes in immortal retirement. Before the semester starts they are introduced to the idea of polyamorous vampiric relationships via the Denali sisters. Bella is unabashedly fascinated with this phenomenon which Edward ✨notes✨

At the start of semester 1, we are introduced to the Twilight Saga’s bread and butter: our every-girl: Eve. Her role in this fic is to sort of fill in the gaps that Edward and Bella’s personalities present.

Like Edward and Bella, she is still a fundamentally good person but much more naturally drawn to mischief and chaos than either of them or even most other people. However, she is also self-aware and tries hard (with very little luck) to reign it in. Edward obviously has a telepathic front row seat to this conflict, relays it to Bella and the two of them find it very endearing at first and then attractive as they identify her as a mate fall for her in synchronicity.

Eve’s goodness is sort of informed by a more contemporary lens and uh less Mormonism. Thats not a dig at Stephanie- I just can't personally relate. I’m going to try to keep Edward and Bella in character as much as possible while leaving room to focus on their darker inclinations and develop their personalities as Eve continues to influence them. For instance, Eve is more cynical and realistic than either of them but matches their intense obsession with herself and each other once her interest in them kicks into gear. She is less oblivious than Bella and more emotionally intelligent than them both as her frontal cortex has had the chance develop past 17 lmao.

Due to their mutual obsession with her, Edward and Bella learn more about each other- Bella the full extent of Edwards unhinged ‘protective’ thought process (she recognises it for what it is but can’t bring herself to care because at the end of the day, its still attractive to her PLUS she is now identifying similar urges in herself in response to Eve.) Edward consequently begins to see Bella’s full personality/nature for what it is now thats she's become more confident and embodied since being turned. So much so in fact that it comes to match his own assertiveness. Basically at this point they are literally both just tops 😩

Crucially, at the start of our story Eve is already grappling with her own secret life-long supernatural inclinations. Once Bella and Edward recognise this as more than just having a cheeky personality, they assume she falls into the category of ‘gifted human' à la Alice and Bella before being changed. However, they come to realise that this is inaccurate, and Eve belongs to a new species unknown to vampires in the Twilight universe, kind of like how Forks Wolves are ‘shape-shifters’ and not werewolves. It's fairies. The new species are fairies. For the purposes of this story, fairies present as regulardegular humans with the exception of some key traits which manifest on a spectrum and as such, will often move through the world unconscious of their own true biology with only a few accurately identifying their own true species. It’s likely that some of those gifted humans were in fact a fairy prior to changing but not all, as fairies on the strong end of the spectrum in this story are defined by a distinct taxonomy. I'm keeping some of them under wraps for the sake of the plot but some fun ones to know include that these fairies:

- Are impervious to vampire venom

- Smell and taste really fukn good to vampires without serving any nutritional benefit (as evidenced in the lack of change in eye colour after a ‘feed’ wink wonk)*

*Bonus lore: while fairies can experience a similar phenomenon to ‘mating’ or ‘imprinting’ with pretty much any supernatural species, part of their passive but extreme to-the-point-of-self-destructive-see-Eve's-inner-turmoil secrecy is due to their unhappy experience with the worlds earliest vampires whom fairies have since functionally 'obliviated' or ✨disposed of✨which explains why the no one, not even the Volturi know they exist!

- Have a general disposition towards impulsivity; present mindedness (often at the expense of forethought); creativity; abstract thinking; an endearing ‘weirdness’ according to whatever culture they happen to belong to and resourcefulness.

- Are otherwise physically fragile as humans with the exception of scent which they are pretty equal on

Eve is one such example BUT like many of her species in the 21st century, modern social convention has prevented her from leaning into her traits in a meaningful way. However, the longer she spends focusing on Edward and Bella, the more she allows herself to explore her own biology��

[rcserph]

I promised I’d make a name masterlist when I reached 200 followers, and even though it’s been a while and I’m about to reach my next hundred, I finally did it. Here are some “elegant” sounding names (for both males & females) + surnames. Feel free to give it a like & a reblog if you found this helpful in any way, and thank you for everything! 

FEMALE NAMES:

Adelaide

Alessandra

Anastasia

Angelica

Annabelle

Anne

Antoinette

Antonella

Ariella

Audrey

Aurora

Beatrice

Bernadette

Beverly

Brianna

Bridget

Camilla

Carlotta

Caroline

Catherine

Charlotte

Clementine

Colette

Cordelia

Cynthia

Daisy

Delilah

Diana

Dorothy

Eleanor

Elizabeth

Eloise

Emilia

Emmaline

Emmanuelle

Esme

Evangeline

Felicity

Fleur

Gabrielle

Genevieve

Georgina

Gwendolyn

Gwyneth

Harriet

Harper

Helena

Isabella

Ivy

Jacqueline

Josephine

Juliette

Laurel

Louisa

Madelaine

Margaret

Margot

Marianna

Marie

Melinda

Meredith

Nadine

Natalie

Octavia

Odette

Olivia

Ophelia

Penelope

Petunia

Pippa

Poppy

Renee

Rosalie

Rosalind

Savannah

Scarlett

Sienna

Simone

Sophia

Stephanie

Susan

Sylvia

Tabitha

Tatum

Theodora

Valentina

Veronica

Victoria

Violet/Violetta

Virginia

Vivienne

Willa

Wren

MALE NAMES:

Albert

Alec

Alexander

Alfred

Alistair

Amadeus

Archibald

Arthur

Ashby

Atticus

Augustus

Bartholomew

Benjamin

Bertram

Bradley

Byron

Caesar

Caleb

Callum

Carson

Charles

Colin

Conrad

Dalton

Damien

Daniel

Dane

David

Dominic

Douglas

Edmund

Edward

Edwin

Egbert

Ezra

Felix

Finn

Frederick

Gabriel

Garrett

George

Gordon

Gregory

Harris

Harrison

Holden

Ian

James

Jasper

Jeremiah

Jonathan

Jude

Lance

Landon

Leonardo

Logan

Louis

Lucien

Malcolm

Matthew

Maurice

Maximillian

Miles

Milo

Nathaniel

Nicholas

Norman

Oliver

Orson

Paul

Peter

Phillip

Pierce

Quinn

Raphael

Richard

Robert

Roderick

Rufus

Rupert

Sebastian

Seth

Silas

Theodore

Thomas

Tobias

Vincent

Wesley

William

Xavier

Zachary

SURNAMES:

Abbott

Abernathy

Addington

Alderidge

Astor

Barnes

Baudelaire

Beaumont

Benson

Bentham

Berkshire

Bishop

Black

Bradford

Bradshaw

Buchanan

Burton

Cabot

Caldwell

Calloway

Campbell

Carraway

Caulfield

Chadwick

Chamberlayne

Compton

Cooper

Cromwell

Darling

Davenport

Donahue

Drummond

Fairchild

Fairfield

Fitzgerald

Fitzroy

Franklin

Grimaldi

Harding

Hastings

Hawthorne

Hearst

Hill

Hilton

Hollingsworth

Humphries

Lancaster

Lauder

Lexington

Lincoln

Locke

Lockwood

McCoy

Meyers

Montague

Montgomery

Pembroke

Pierce

Pratt

Pruitt

Radcliffe

Redfield

Reid

Reyes

Rhodes

Rhodes

Robinson

Rockingham

Rothchild/Rothschild

Schopenhauer

Schulz

Sinclair

Somers

Stone

Stratford

Talbot

Thompson

Townsend

Vanderbilt

Watson

Williams

Windsor

Wright

Wyndham

[t-baba]

#347: Using ES Modules in Node Today

This week's JavaScript news — Read this e-mail on the Web

JavaScript Weekly

Issue 347 — August 11, 2017

Use ES Modules in Node Today

@std/esm is a spec-compliant ES module loader for Node 4+ allowing you to transition more smoothly from CommonJS.

John-David Dalton

Techniques for Passing Data Between Promise Callbacks

Some approaches for sharing data between callbacks (which each have their own scope).

Dr. Axel Rauschmayer

🎉 New, Updated: Deep JavaScript Foundations with Kyle Simpson

Join Kyle Simpson, author of the popular “You Don’t Know JavaScript” book series, as he deep dives into JavaScript's core mechanics like scope, closure, this and prototypes ..plus new features in ES6 and more.

Frontend Masters   Sponsor

Next.js 3.0: The Universal React App Toolchain

The stable release of Next.js v3.0 arrived this week, bringing with it dynamic import support, static export support, code splitting and more.

Arunoda Susiripala and Tim Neutkens

Building a Simple AI Chatbot with the Web Speech API and Node

A complete walkthrough of bringing together browsers’ speech recognition support with Node and a third party natural language processing service.

Tomomi Imura

Reverse Engineering Obfuscated JavaScript (video)

A look at how one library achieves the irksome ‘pop under’ effect in Chrome 59, where others seemingly fail.

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[heleneplays]

Esme taking care of Sick!Helene

ESME MY HONEY DARLING, GET IT TOGETHER SWEETIE 🤡

---

The Fic: [Part 1] [Part 2]

Other ROs: [Abdul] [Cleo] [Dominique] [Esme] [María] [Rémy] [Zhu]

[heleneplays]

PLEASE its been months since i requested this and like. you sending it then almost immediately and me keeping it in here. as a treat.

BUT RN IM JUST LIKE. INCREDIBLY WEEPY ABT IT,,,, so posting it as part of ur TUMBLR REBIRTH <3

so!!! @jamesshawgames thank u once again for indulging me and sending this 🥺✨ literally so awesome and sweet of you and i count myself lucky lmao <3333

ANYWAYS the thing under read more :)

You asked for ROs looking after a sick MC. So here's the first three!

---

Sick MC scenarios, Part 1!

***

"Here, drink this. It always cheers me up when I'm feeling poorly."

Rémy bustles over to the bed with something clutched in his right hand. He thrusts it under your nose.

"Wine? I feel like death and you're going to make me drink wine?"

"Non. I am not giving you mere wine. I am giving you a 1921 Chateau la Gaffeliere. If this doesn't cure you, nothing will!"

The smell of the alcohol makes you gag. Rémy immediately snatches his hand away.

"Helene, I love you, and I am not a violent man. But I am warning you, if you throw up on this jacket I will suffocate you with a pillow."

***

"Are you feeling better yet?"

You sigh. "No, Dominique. It's only ten minutes since you last asked."

They kick their feet restlessly. "You know what will make you feel better? Activity! Lying in that bed all day is no good for you. How about--hear me out--how about we nip outside and just do some really, really easy and relaxing robbery?"

"What are you talking about? I can barely stand up!"

"You know that pawnbroker's on the corner? Well, I was having a look at the lock on their back door the other day, and it's really easy. We could just slip in the back and we'll be home before you know it. It'll be great fun. You'd get some fresh air. You wouldn't even have to climb up the wall or anything."

"Please! I feel like I'm dying here!"

They sigh. "You've been dying for two whole days now. I'm bored!"

"Do you want to go and rob something?" you ask, a little frustrated. "You do, don't you? Why don't you go and do that? I'll be OK for a little while. Go ahead, have some fun."

They spring to their feet, beaming widely, and kiss you on the forehead.

"Thanks Helene! You're the best! I'll be sure to shoplift you some paracetamol on the way home!"

***

"Here you go, Helene," chirps Esme, approaching the bed with a glass in her hand. "This is my old governess Mrs. Strickland's miracle cure. She always used to give me this as a child. It always made me feel better."

You peer skeptically into the glass. "Is that a raw egg in there?"

"Yes! She always put a raw egg in. I think, anyway. Honestly, I can't quite remember the exact recipe, so there's been a little bit of improvisation. Raw egg, sugar, chilli powder, honey and just a tiny little splash of whisky."

You turn up your nose as she brings it up to your mouth.

"A splash of whisky? It smells more like there's half a bottle in there!"

"Yes, there is," chirps Esme brightly. "It was a splash of whisky when I was a child. But you're a grown-up, so I compensated. Now come on, drink up!"

"Are you sure this is safe to drink? You've made it before?"

She purses her lips and shakes her head. "Not exactly. I didn't actually have to make it when I was a child. We had servants to do that. But I watched them make it sometimes. I'm pretty sure I got it right." She thinks for a second. "Oh no, wait, I did make it once! When Harriet got sick on her eleventh birthday!"

"And did it cure her?"

"Um, not exactly. We had to take her to the hospital, as I recall."

You look at her for a few seconds. Silently, she moves the glass away from your mouth.

"Yes. Perhaps not."

***

More to follow!

[heleneplays]

MCR-SocMed AU pt. 1

or in which Helene is experiencing the worst day today :)

[heleneplays]

You'll remain here (You'll remain dear inside)

LITERALLY FUCK ME I GUESS. SPENT THIS WHOLE DAY DOING NOTHING BUT WRITE FOR THE BLORBOS AND YOU KNOW WHAT. IDC. IT'S WORTH IT. THEY'RE WORTH IT.

anyways this are parts of the besties' pov, because I have unresolved feelings and half baked personifications of them screaming at me to write!!! them!!! down!!! so i am blaming my own issues but also James bc SIR. augh. my love for your goddamn blorbos is terminal and i succumb gladly :(

ok but honestly i was originally just going to write a meta fic of Helene actually becoming a self-aware character, that her choices were all predetermined, that it was a game etc etc on the second part but HEY things happen and next thing i know i wrote like 10k words instead of her choosing to fuck the narrative that good things have a price, and love is always enough in this three (?) part series of the endgame that never is, was, and hopefully never will be!!!!!!

ANYWAYS

forgot to say but stream GODSENT by BEN&BEN LIKE AUGH PLEASE.

again, María x Helene, but arching POVs from Sam, Cleo, Esme, Rémy, Zhu, and Dominique in the start of it all <3

---

Helene died, cradled in María's arms. They saw her breathe her last, focused on nothing but the woman who held her.

Sam almost wants to be bitter at that moment, because she'd gone and left, and her eyes never strayed. She didn't notice anyone else, had no other words to say except for María, and then they remember.

("It's always been her, Sam." She whispers, smiling brokenly as she stares straight ahead.)

So instead, they turn that bitterness into one part grief, nine parts wonder because throughout their adventures, the woman they consider their idol-turned-mentor-turned-friend was still as true to their heart, even in the face of broken dreams of the future, in the face of death.

---

"It feels like i'm playing God, when I hold these things in my hand." She whispers.

Sam remembers the island. Of how the Carxite podium held her, gripped her. The way inhuman rage looked at her, and how she ordered the island's defenses to activate.

Sam remembers the ozone smell, like fresh struck thunder; of vision of half-melted bodies of her enemies, of all the Nazis who set their boots into the shore.

Sam remembers calling out for her, and her cruel reply; remembers the light in her eyes gone, replaced with a dead-eyed imposter in her place sneering with cold contempt.

Of her breaking out of it, as they approached her, and as María, even then, stared at the woman with no ounce of fear.

Then Sam thinks about the silver-eyed goddess who stood in that place just moments ago, radiant with power, untouchable, but alive in the way the first one forgot; of how they snapped their fingers, and used the stone's powers like a familiar extension of their limb—not to kill everyone like she did then—but to delibitate and injure her enemies enough to stop them from interfering.

(Of how María, themselves, Belby, and in extension, the rest of their team shot Heidi Hahn in cold blood as Helene turned her wiles against the slippery snake beforehand.)

And of how they decisively struck down, with no measure of mercy, the other woman who made this endgame happen.

(Because if Sabine Schneider never found about the Archive, never subscribed to the Aryan ideals, never descended into a madness so familiar, then this clash of titans would have perhaps never borne fruit.)

(Atleast, Sam would like to think so.)

---

"Of all the people you included for this deathride of a mission, I didn't think you'd be the one to die, Helene."

---

Cleo looks at the woman she just helped lay down the couch, then towards Esme who was looking at Helene with a curious gaze. She looks as heartbreak settles in the woman's eyes, but not grief. She's seen enough people in the entirety of this war mourn and break into grief, but Esme seems to just breeze past that and go straight to acceptance.

Cleo feels discombobulated.

"It doesn't feel right, no?" The blonde's crisp tone shakes her out of stupor. The woman would be embarassed at being caught staring, but she's kind of past that.

"I don't—I mean, She is—" Cleo starts, trying to give words to her thoughts. Esme understands though.

"The first time I met her, I knew she was a star. She burned so fierce and brightly that day that she and my..." Esme shakes her head, voice pained but a broken smile painting her lips. "the day she and I met. Did you know we met during her dig in Jerusalem in '34? We crossed paths outside the Colony, and I felt something was about to happen after a brief moment our gazes met. Not even 10 minutes later, she was running out the Grand Salon, Nazis on her heels after she pissed them off— Next thing I knew, I was out there with the shattered remains of a pot, saving her from certain death by gunshot after she got herself cornered by one."

"I knew Spillane was a bit of a disaster, but to hear that she's just like that since then—"

"Oh no, don't get me wrong, Helene's a great big daredevil, but I was kind of a foolhardy self-proclaimed adventurer then, dragging Abdul all over the place, then it just clicked, you know? I do so hate bullies, and that day... made things clearer. Somehow."

"I kind of get it. She's a trailblazer, with almost 0 regards to conventional boundaries of society, then she drags you along for the ride."

"I went there willingly, i'll have you know!"

"Oh yeah? Well I was the one dragging her through it first!"

Both women look at each other, and laugh. It's painful, and others would say a touch hysterical, but it's something true, a release.

---

"I did her wrong, kinda a lot. Is it selfish of me to wish she was back, so I can apologize for some of the things I did?"

Esme keeps quiet for a few moments, before she replies.

"Helene got my man killed, you know. In '38, during that quest for that man looking for his ancestor's grave."

Cleo turns to look at her, shocked.

"I'm sorry, that's unkind." Esme sighs, but continues.

"It's just partly her fault. This... cult, they attacked our home because Helene was there, because I missed an adventure and it was a perfect excuse to get to see her. We were down to one floor, trying to survive, and it was a bloodbath, because their members so many, then Sam was clobbered down, and then Helene had to make a choice between me and Abdul."

Cleo wanted to ask so many things, but kept quiet.

"It was a split second, and I saw her looking at Abdul, thinking that my honeybear was going to be the one she saves, because to be quite honest, those two are more alike than I really would like to admit. And I was okay, I was ready for death because I love him, I loved him, I loved Abdul Al-Maliki, and I was alright as long as he lived—"

"But she chose you, instead."

"She did. And I wanted to hate her, because she saved me, instead of him, my light and the reason I loved so freely—And for a while, I did."

A slow smile curls into her face.

"I hated her. For all 10 seconds of it."

Cleo wants to be shocked. But she can't. Helene was, fundamentally, never unlikeable. She may be a clown at times, infuriating and stubborn; but never unlikeable.

(It's like a power of hers, they think. Helene has a great capacity to befriend people, soothe tempers, and charm others.)

(But she also was unflinching, unabashed, and unremorseful, especially against her enemies.)

"Helene has a great capacity for love. I was privelleged to part a small part of her heart, along with Abdul, and it was that part that I think, that gave her the instinct to save me. Love is not quantifiable by any means, but I think, Abdul told her just how far the depths go, and that moment made her choose differently."

Esme clenches her fist.

"I didn't understand then, but looking at how María held her, God, how she broke—She asked for my forgiveness before we left for this, y'know? I said I forgave her then, even if I didn't know why. Because even if his death hurts, he tried, she tried, and that's all I can really ask for."

(Abdul is a kind, good, gentle man. Slow to anger, with an infinite well of love. Helene is a kind, somewhat good, gentle woman. Slow to anger, with an infinite well of love.)

(Demons run when good men go to war.)

(So what would good women make run when they go to war?)

(Everything. Everyone.)

---

"You're right. Helene being dead feels surreal, because she survived far worse things. Most of which were my fault, because I kept omitting parts of the truth."

Cleo says after a while. She closes her eyes, thinking about every adventure she shared with the woman.

New Orleans. Congo. Romita. Kuzco.

All adventures fraught with deep, heavy things. Goddamned Racists, secret Nazis and murderous Natives, a Cannibalist group, and again, even more Nazis, except this time not-so-secret.

"I should be dead, to be honest. All the way back from Congo."

Cleo takes a deep breath.

"Our story starts in New Orleans, like I told you. She invited me to do a guest lecture in her fine, prissy, whites-only college, because she was like that; and we attracted the attention of the local Ku Klux Klan because of it. Things happened, and I dragged her to solve a mystery, we solved it only to get captured; she got lightly tortured for our troubles, almost maimed by a dog and then a croc. Then I invited her to Congo, she accepted, omitted that the jungle locals were growing more agressive, stumbled to a Nazi conspiracy, got captured, AGAIN, almost got branded as slaves, DID work one shift as one, staged a coup, overthrew the local soldier garrison... THEN HAD TO STAGE ANOTHER BATTLE YET AGAIN, but we survived; hell, we lived!"

Her hands shake, imperceptibly.

"We lived because she sent Sam and our guide, Jeff, with me, and she braved the north side alone with her part of the troops until we had to regroup as one, and then she saved me, while I was lying prone on my back, about to get skewered by their bayonets; but there she was, like an avenging little angel, smoking gun being reloaded faster than I could comprehend. And all I did get to say was thanks, because our adventure wasn't done, and after it all she was just—"

Cleo smiles, thinking about the Helene who literally flopped down on a bed and slept 48 hours straight.

"She went straight to sleep, heedless of everything else, didn't she?"

"Yeah."

They both take a second to collect themselves. Then Cleo continues.

"The next time we met was months after that, but she waved me off, getting me a drink 'til we went home drunk, and then I didn't talk to her about it again, and see her in person until Romita. I can't tell you want happened in Kuzco, but God, Romita? That place was a hundred ways more personal and fucked up than the whole back-to-back siege in Congo, because that... the monsters we encountered there? Truly Inhuman."

Cleo twists her fingers, trying not to remember the way her student flinched away from her, scared and emaciated; of the broken body of the girl, Mina–no, Stefania, flying down to the earth, and the crunch that followed after her self-made descent off the ravine.

(She tries to keep the chilling image of Ariadne Stokes smiling at them beforehand out of her mind, and shivers as she tried to think of what monster Helene faced. Because the ravenette was so silent and withdrawn afterwards, and she wouldn't speak of anything that transpired, even prodded.)

"Alone." Cleo says, and Esme searches her face, trying to understand. Then it clicks.

"You left her alone."

A statement, not a question.

"Yes. I'm not proud of it, but I've left her more times than I should have, all these years."

"...I won't ask why, or tell you what you should feel, because that's yours alone." Esme finally says, after a while. "But I'd like to think she's forgiven you anyways. She did that, kind of a lot."

"...Yeah, I know. I want to think that too."

---

"You saved... kinda a lot of asses, Spillane. But nobody's ever been able to save you, when it mattered."

"No, someone did."

And their gaze slides towards María, who's still looking out the window and into the empty night sky, looking for something only she could see.

---

Rémy can count on one hand the times he'd been out of words. As a learned man, he never had a lack of them, loving the way his voice sounds, especially at the throes of passion.

But hearing that his dear friend, the woman who dared him, once upon a time, to fuck one of his paramours in the top of the Eiffel, has been lost. Well, people can forgive him for not gracing them with his presence, right?

("You, you, you fiendish Frenchman!" Helene shakes with indignance, trying to pummel your back with her tiny fists as you carry her on your shoulder.)

(You laugh, real and deep. "Oh yes, I am a fiend, and I am indeed French! Congratulations on your astute observation, chérie." This is one of the many times you've met after a seminar, but the first you've seen the professional woman crack. Who knew all it took was getting her drunk and embarrassed?)

("Augh, damn you. The only person who should be handling me like this is Spanish and she's farrrrrr more cuter than you, Fournier!" She declares, and you almost colide with a post.)

("Well, well, well! Sounds like a juicy tale, Chérie! You should tell me all about it!")

("No." She pouts, and you feel her tense. "Talking about her makes me sad. And I don't like that.")

(You want to press, but it slips your mind, because the next moment, she's out like a light.)

Miles grimaces beside him, bone deep weariness hitting in the moment the news hits.

"—o can you guys come pick everyone here up?"

"Oui, hang on tight. We'll get the island secured."

---

"How does it go again? Ah, yes. Too rich for use, for Earth too dear."

---

Zhu feels numb, as he sits quietly on his perch, just back from staring from the corpse of his friend.

("You are better than this, Jian Zhu, and you better listen to someone who knows and believes that there IS a goodness that exists within you, with all that want to be a better man! It starts that this moment, by acknowledging that this is bigger than you, than Kao, than everything else you've planned for revenge; So please—" Her voice is five parts pleading, five parts command, and oh. There it is. "Please stay, and help me finish this once and for all.")

(It's at this precise moment you knew you'd come to the ends of the earth with her, for her.)

("Okay." You whisper. "Okay." You say again, more full, more forceful. Because you know your need is selfish, is stupid, but Helene understands, and she knows better than anyone else a part of your story now, and all she asks for is this time, to help her save the world.)

(And you couldn't disobey, even if you tried. Because she is part of your absolution, and you will be a supplicant for her earnest devotion, the same way you feel her protégé(?) does as they cling to her.)

(Helene Spillane may physically be the smallest woman in the room, but the magnitude of her presence fills her with unnatural grace and strength that she dons on and off as she pleases, like a cloak.)

---

"...I'm not surprised, because I know how far devotion can run. I... I understand."

---

Dominique has had some of the shittiest days lately. It nearly tops the moment they uncovered the camps, but—

Helene is still, and if they close their eyes, they could swear the woman was just sleeping, the way she was no less than 48 hours ago, deep in the jungle wilds while in Japan.

It looked deep, you thought, with the way she was so still; but the brief rest didn't last, and she handily opened her eyes to stare towards you, unseeing yet, but her hands flying to the throwing knife hidden in her side at a blink of an eye.

Then awareness fills them, and you shake you head, opting to get her to prepare instead.

(So no, denial is a bad look on you.)

It doesn't feel real, the assault on the fortress taking almost instantaneously after their mission, after a brief hour or two to get ready with tools and wait for the team to be assembled. Then the bloodbath, of fighting the ground troops, teaming up in several pairs because manpower, time, and the path to the end is limited, and you all needed to make sure the assault is fast and efficient for the world, the fate of the world hangs in this one mission, and you loathe to think the end of it fails.

You don't want to fail. Death is inevitable, and you are nonetheless proud for being included in this ragtag bunch of people fighting for a better tomorrow. Included in the imposible last defense of this mystical mumbo-jumbo, because of course alien and magical powers are goddamn real.

(Fires blaze in your heart as Helene makes the final rounds for one last time before the endgame starts. Final goodbyes were already said awhile ago, and everyone tenses in anticipation.)

(In a better world, you think, Helene would have made a great motivational speaker.)

(And then you snort. Because Helene actually hates speaking in front of a crowd, and most, if not all her extroverted tendencies were a front. You'd know, because for all the showmanship you've done for the sake of your career, part of it was just for you to show off your skills in a relatively anonymous manner.)

(Show a clown to the circus, and get your bread and gold, and all that jazz.)

You're going to miss her, you think. You look around and spot Sam cringing on the side, trying their best to patch themselves up with one hand.

And you can't help but sigh, because the woman you observed who'd have patted their head and give them a noogie before doing the patch-up themselves is gone.

(And never coming back...)

---

"Our time was brief, but hey, we always had fun, didn't we Helene my dear?"

---

They say death is the end.

---

Helene is dead.

And then she wakes up.

There are many questions to be answered. But looking into her eyes, even though something inside has fundamentally shifted, something added, something lost; it's still her.

So they hold off, and take the gift as it is.

---

The word of her death does not spread far. Everyone else agreed to keep it under wraps, the cost of victory still too raw, too dear to talk about.

They settle on half of a lie, that yes, she was briefly gone; but life-saving maneuvers got her back.

But everyone in that island remembers. Her friends; her chosen family— something will forever be changed, because they knew the finality, had lived it, and mourned it, however briefly; before she went and changed all the rules.

(Helene loves to defy expectations. This happening is no other. Everyone is safe, and it's free real estate.)

And because of it, they will all have the chance to talk, really talk, and a chance for a future. Altogether.

---

Helene sits in a bench under the shade. Silver strands caress her face as the wind shifts, blowing a gentle breeze against her face.

Beside her, María sits, saying nothing aside from quietly slipping her hand into hers, and squeezing it. A stray beam dapples from the trees, making the golden bands on their fingers glint in the fading light.

"Do you have any regrets, Helene?"

"Before? During? or After?"

"In any of them."

Helene is quiet, as she is most days. But María has grown to be patient, because love is kind, and makes better fools of them both.

"No."

Short and succinct, with a finality in her tone.

(María, as most of the years that have passed, had grown to understand her new language.)

"Okay. Me either."

And silence reigns.

It’s a loaded but comfortable silence, their two hearts beating as one, and for that moment, everything is enough.

---

"Hey, María?"

"Yes, Helene?"

"Do you know I love you?"

"Yes. Do you?"

"Know that you love me?"

"Yeah, that."

"I don't need to know. I always felt it."

"Even after all I put you through?"

"Even then. Even now. Forever will, and even then."

"How?"

"You're a masterful liar, María, but you can't fool someone like me."

The book snaps shut. And she looks down on her lap, where Helene lies as she wants.

"And what is 'like you', huh?"

Helene looks up at her, eyes bright, and ever so full of love.

"Someone who knows. Someone who sees. Someone who percieves."

She says, quietly, but confidently. Then the brunette shifts, bringing herself up, so different in the time she lied there unmoving, craded in the redhead's arms. And she cups her face in her small, warm hands, and brings herself close, close eneough that they can see the flecks in their irises; of the yellow and gold intersped in María's hazel, and the subtle silver that settled in Helene's dark, grey-brown.

"Most importantly, Someone who loves..." she whispers. "you."

(María kisses her, and it's heady, sweet, and everything Helene ever needs.)

---

"Why did you come back?"

"...Because I wanted to."

"And it's enough?"

You understand that she speaks from a fear, a fear that you'll abandon her for your chase of power. The fear of being left alone, because you already left this mortal coil once, and something hums in you, calling for the void.

You can't explain in words, so you capture her in a kiss. And then try.

"I fought the universe itself to come back here because I believed, María. I believed in humanity, in myself, and the people here I do so love."

"That doesn't answer if it's enough." She answers, her grip tighter at the second.

Am I enough, she what she really asks.

It should hurt, after all these years, this doubt; but instead, it teethers you. And you blink, and everything finally slots into place. So you match her, and hold her close.

You smile.

"I love you, María."

You are enough, is your reply.

[jamesshawgames]

So we know what jolyon thinks of the mc, but what are Harriet's opinions on us? I'm also vaguely interested in what her husband thinks as well

Thanks for the ask! Harriet is much more supportive than her father. She just wants Esme to be happy. Plus, she's a romantic, so she likes the idea of Esme marrying below her station, it's like the forbidden love thing from a romance novel or something.

[jamesshawgames]

Since i'm romancing Esme, when she propose to me she said that our wedding doesn't had to be real and that we had to act in front of our friends and family and still continue our arrangement to see other people, yet she said that she want to commit herself only to me, when she comes back in London can we discuss that i want a real marriage instead of a lie?. also for retirement since i'm getting old and a linguist can i join Esme on her job since she want to become a Diplomat and me a translator

Hi, thanks for the ask!

She didn't say that the wedding won't be "real". She just meant that it doesn't have to be a full, "official" religious ceremony if the player doesn't want that. It's a ceremony where you commit to each other in front of your friends, like an unofficial wedding. It's not a "lie", just a recognition that not all players will want a religious ceremony, and that some players who are romancing Esme (e.g. female Spillanes) would probably not have been able to have a full "official" wedding with her because that wasn't legal at the time. As for commitment, she has said that she wants to commit fully to you, but that she won't insist that you do the same since that wasn't the arrangement that you first entered into when you started seeing her. So it's not a "lie" or "acting", it's a full public commitment, which can (but doesn't have to) take the form of a traditional wedding. Hope that's clear.

[jamesshawgames]

Oh, my ask is if Esme/Abdul ever loved the MC, since i'm romancing Esme since 1st/2nd book, i ask her to move back with me in America but she says its a good idea but isn't possible, in Venice she say the MC is nothing more than a distraction and i feel sad, that's why i asked if they ever loved the MC and we are just a 2nd choice since their significant other died, will She regret Treating me as a Distraction, Will she realize that she's falling in love with me until its too late? Thank you

Oh yes, Esme / Abdul always loved the MC if you go down that romance path! They're polyamorous, which means that they can love people other than each other. The reason why Esme wouldn't go to America in Book 1 is that it was still a very new relationship and asking someone to move countries is quite a big step, and she wasn't ready to do that at that point. (In Book 3, she's more ready to make big changes to her life, so maybe that becomes an option at that stage). But it didn't mean that she didn't love the MC! Also, I'll have to look back at the Venice chapter, but I don't think I ever intended to suggest that the MC was just a "distraction". That isn't how she sees the MC. She has a special connection to Abdul, but she also does genuinely love Spillane on that path.

[jamesshawgames]

Would esme be up for kids with mc? I sort of imagine them turning into something like the wild thornberries and adventuring together.

I think eventually she would. She'd want to lead a slightly less crazy life. But who knows, maybe she'll start feeling the urge to settle down a little soon...

[heleneplays]

anyways i offer nothing but my interpretation of the cast as well, based on pre-existing materials & convos 💖:

in order: Sam, Dominique, Esme, Zhu, María, Rémy, Cleo, and Abdul 😳🥺💖

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[MC heights pt. 1]