#french abbey experiences

[angellayercake]

Banchetto: Formaggi e Frutta

Papa Emeritus III x Reader | NSFW

AO3 | Insalata | Masterpost

Selecting the pairings for cheese can be deceptively complicated. Anyone can put some cheese on a tray and call it done but for it to be truly good some serious thought needs to be done. Texture, flavour, sweet vs savoury, creamy vs crunchy, all build up to a well rounded dish. The first bite of a juicy grape paired with tang of a strong cheddar, or the sweet bitterness of cranberry with the mellow creaminess of a brie. Every element has to work together to create a bigger experience. If you make these choices with care then you will have a show stopping course and all you had to do was some slicing.

• • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

You had been lingering in his office. He was perched on the edge of his desk with his arms locked around you, preventing you from leaving and ending your time together for the day. The two of you had been in this position for at least half an hour, every time you tried to extricate yourself he would pull you in for one last kiss which became two, then three, then he would remember another important matter you just had to discuss right now. So far you had covered Cabaret the musical, why linen was the superior summer material, his favourite type of pen to do signings and the lies he used to tell people about ghoul mating habits. And now you were discussing your favourite cheeses.

‘I honestly have to say I don’t think I have tried a cheese I didn't like,’ you admit after listening to him explain why Italian cheeses were by far the best in the world. He wrinkles his nose at you, shaking his head in disgust. As inconsequential as these topics were, you enjoyed hearing his typically outlandish opinions and his passionate defence of them. You may have even been guilty of disagreeing with him deliberately from time to time just to enjoy his attempts to convince you of his point of view. 

‘Even the stinky ones?’ He looks like even just thinking of them is a displeasure he can’t abide, the charmingly emphasised wrinkles above the bridge of his nose almost distracting you from his argument. ‘The French, thinking they can get away with crimes against dairy just because of a few good ones,’ he grumbles, pulling a laugh from you. 

‘I think the English are guilty of that too, I am afraid,’ you remind him. ‘Have you ever tried Stinking Bishop?’

‘Ugh!! Never and I never will,’ he shakes his head again refusing to even entertain the thought. ‘But, cara mia, that is why everything Italian is far superior,’ he says, lifting his eyebrows suggestively and you suspect he isn’t just talking about cheese any more.

‘With what I have learned in the last few months I can’t say I disagree,’ you reply against his lips as he is already reeling you in for another kiss. You don’t let him distract you for too much longer though this time. ‘I don’t think you should judge a cheese until you try it with accompaniments though. The right flavours paired with the right cheese can make all the difference.’ 

‘I suppose there is some truth to what you say, mia cuocoina,’ he trails off for a moment looking like he is waging a battle internally before he takes a deep breath and continues. ‘Speaking of cheese, did you know there is a farmers market in town this weekend? I have heard they have very many types of cheese on sale there.’

‘I had heard, yes. It happens every month.’ You think back fondly to those trips out of the Abbey with Mona. ‘We used to take it in turns to go and pick up some obscure ingredients as a challenge for the others. I haven’t had a chance to go for a while.’

‘Would you like to go to this one? With me?’ His hesitancy makes your heart melt. How this man could ever think you wouldn’t want to go with him you have no idea? As if you don’t willingly spend almost every moment of your free time with him.

‘Are you asking me on a date, Terzo?’ You tease, hoping to ease his worry a little. The two of you may have done everything backwards but you can’t help the little thrill you get from the idea of him taking you on a proper date. He had been watching you nervously as he waited for your response but at your gentle teasing the corner of his lips pulled up in a smile even as a light blush crawled across his cheeks. 

‘Si, I am,’ he says simply, lifting his head and looking you directly in the eyes, hypnotising you for a moment in his gaze.

‘I would love to go with you,’ you reply as soon as you snap out of it, not wanting to leave him hanging any longer. His wide smile always takes your breath away and you stand there for far too long, just grinning at each other before you realise you do really need to leave. You give him one last kiss before making your way back to your room, mind full of your upcoming date. 

The morning arrives and you are up early having explained to Terzo that the earlier you get there the better. It would be less busy, you got the best pick of the produce and all the tasters won’t have sat out for so long. Taking your advice he had agreed to leave the Abbey around nine, and also on your advice you both were skipping breakfast, not wanting to fill yourselves up before you get there. But his morning coffee is non-negotiable… 

After getting ready you let yourself into his rooms and start the coffee machine. You can hear him moving about already so you don’t worry about getting him up, but instead have time to fuss about… well, everything. You smooth your hands over your outfit as you wait letting your nerves get the better of you for a second. It’s not to say you didn’t usually make an effort with your appearance, you did, but your clothes and hair had to be practical when cooking even if just for him. This was the first time you had had the opportunity to dress up and for some reason it had your stomach in knots. 

You wore your hair down today, letting the dark waves cascade down your back where they were usually secured in a bun and your make up was light as you had considered the time of day - just a subtle base and some eyeliner, mascara and lipstick to add a little emphasis to your features. The dress you picked was one you had never worn before. It was black, as was the majority of your wardrobe, but the light cotton fell softly over your figure, the hem ending at your mid-calf. It was buttoned up from your chest to your knees, giving a glimpse of leg and decolletage you hoped would capture his attention without flaunting too much. The puff sleeves and broderie anglaise finish the look and make it, in your opinion, the perfect dress for a date at the farmers market.

Just as you finish the coffee you hear him come to the door. You turn around a cup in each hand to catch him frozen in the doorway. With one hand he is clinging to the door frame and then other is laid dramatically over his heart. He is looking at you as if he has never seen you before. He looks incredible himself, his hair slicked back as you had not seen it for a long time and his face surprisingly clear of his paints, given you were leaving the Abbey. He is wearing an off-white revere collar shirt, habitually unbuttoned half way down his chest over tailored linen trousers in a soft dove grey with black woven loafers. He has a matching linen blazer over his arm, and he looks like he has just stepped out of the pages of a Milanese fashion magazine.

‘Good morning, Terzo,’ you greet as you go to hand him his coffee but he ignores it in favour of pulling you in for a kiss, letting go of the door frame and instead wrapping his arm around your waist and letting his hand glide down your body over the smooth fabric. You hum into his mouth enjoying his attentions but slightly worried about spilling coffee on you both as you hold them over his shoulders. ‘I could get used to this sort of greeting,’ you say when he lets you pull away, still seemingly at a loss for words. 

‘Grazie,’ he whispers, finally taking his coffee and savouring the first sip before continuing, letting his eyes roam all over you. ‘You are, well… beautiful doesn’t even cover it, I think. Sei una visione di bellezza, come non ne ho mai viste.’ He does this every now and then, slipping into his native tongue when he can’t seem to find the words to express himself in English. You don’t understand what he is saying but the sentiment is clear, so you let the melodic words wash over you and let your smile widen in response. 

‘You are looking very handsome today too.’ You cup his cheek with your now free hand and let him nuzzle into your palm. ‘I have been looking forward to this all week.’ 

‘Me too, cara mia.’ He places his hand over yours before taking it in his. ‘Are you ready to go?’

‘I’ve got my coffee, I've got you, I don't think I need anything else. And if we leave now everyone will still be at breakfast so we shouldn’t be bothered.’ With a nod and a smile he leads you from the kitchen through his rooms and out to the corridor, pausing only to lock the door behind you. You realise then that this is probably going to be the first time he has left the Abbey since returning from the last tour and what a big step this must be for him, as well as the two of you. You walk through the corridors quickly, leaving a plausible distance between you in case you were seen by anyone but before you reach the main entrance he leads you down an old corridor that, as far as you knew, only led to an older unused wing of the Abbey. 

‘Where are we going?’ You ask him as you follow him along the twists and turns of the dusty corridor but he just shushes you and continues as though he is looking for something. To your surprise he ignores the few doors you pass coming to a stop at an old painting covered in dust, which depicts what you can only assume is a life-sized satanic knight posing in his armour in the landscape of hell. Without any further explanation he feels around the edge of the frame until you hear a click and the painting swings forward revealing a secret set of stairs leading down to a door where you can see slivers of daylight seeping in where it has warped in its frame. Taking your hand he helps you down the steps before having to give the door a shove once, then twice before it opens and you find yourselves at the side of the main Abbey just outside the tall garden wall.  

‘This is the way we used to go when we didn’t want anyone to see us leaving,’ he says, shooting you a mischievous grin. ‘When we were boys especially and the older sisters wouldn’t give us the time of day we would sneak into town…’ He trails off realising the story he was about to tell you and his expression turns a little sheepish. ‘Well, you know how teenage boys can be.’ You shake your head at him good naturedly but take his offered hand so he can lead you down what is clearly a well trodden path through the public gardens to a side gate that opens on the main road into town.

• • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

The first and arguably most important consideration when preparing a dish like this is making everything bitesize. Slice things too small and the flavours will not balance well, slice things too big and you will end up with all sorts of mess, but getting it just right? A slice of cheese, a piece of fruit, a spoonful of chutney, a sliver of meat could all fit on a cracker and be eaten in one perfect bite.

• • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

It is a short pleasant walk especially on a morning like this. The Abbey is about half a mile from the town and despite the occasional comment or funny look, the residents seem to have accepted sharing the area with a satanic church a long time ago. The residents of the Abbey brought a lot of business to the local shops and trades people, doing their best to contribute to the community they were fringe members of which served to strengthen the tolerance of their presence. You yourself had good relationships with the local food stores, avoiding spending your budget at the supermarket as much as you could, so you had never experienced anything but a sideways glance from some of the more conservative members of the community. 

After about fifteen minutes you reach the town square which is already bustling with life even at this early hour of the weekend. Rows and rows of stalls fill the usually open space and there are already plenty of shoppers drifting from stall to stall. Having finished your coffees, you take his and put them in the nearest bin before pausing so you can come up with a plan of action.

‘When I come with Mona we try to be strategic,’ you explain as you try and suss out what the closest stalls are selling.

‘Oh, and why is this? To get the best produce? The best deals?’ He asks inquisitively, tilting his head as he thinks. You wish you could say those were the reasons but it was much less professional.

‘Nope. It is so we don’t get too full before we have eaten everything we want.’ He laughs loudly, clearly surprised at your reasoning but you try your best to keep your face straight. ‘It is important you know!’ you insist as his laughter calms.

‘You have been training me up for this moment, no?’ he says, patting his belly and winking at you knowingly.

‘Bigger appetites than yours have been defeated by the farmer’s market tasters, I will have you know,’ you respond, doing your best not to get distracted by his insinuation.

‘Psh, I could eat one of everything and still have room for whatever delicious dish you have planned for tonight.’ He winds his arm around your waist pulling you against his side as you walk together to the first stall. You can’t keep up your serious façade, his confidence and manhandling bringing a flush to your cheeks, at least until you realise what he said.

‘Need I remind you it is Saturday and my day off.’ You prod him in the side in retaliation and he jumps slightly when you catch his ticklish spot. He grabs your finger before you can poke him again, a little tug of war ensuing before he lets you free with a stern look.

‘Well I can cook for you then,’ he says, snapping his fingers as the idea comes to him. You dip your head for a moment, your chest feeling full at his insistence you spend even more of today together. Until the reality of him cooking anything for you sinks in. You had long suspected that he lacked even the most basic cooking skills, which was confirmed the only time you ever let him try to help you.

‘And what exactly are you going to cook for me?’ You ask as you reach the first stall filled with assorted jars of conserves and jams.

‘I will cook…’ He pauses, looking around at the closet stalls. ‘Cheese!’ he exclaims loudly, drawing some looks and a chuckle from the cheesemonger a couple of stalls over. He clears his throat, quieting his voice. ‘Cheese, cara mia, like we talked about the other night. Cheese and crackers and fruit and chutney. Like this!’ He picks up a jar of spiced cranberry chutney from the stall.

‘That will be 55 krona please, sir,’ the lady behind the stall tells him. He hands the jar to you and fishes his wallet out of his pocket, handing her cash and insisting she keep the change. 

‘That’s not exactly cooking is it,’ you scoff, putting the jar in one of the many tote bags you had thought to bring along. ‘But that being said, I would be happy to join you this evening.’ 

‘Maybe not but I can assure you I will put a lot more effort into dessert,’ he replies with a smirk as he pulls you towards the cheesemonger. ‘Now, Signior, I need a selection of your best cheese for mia cuocoina, and a little advice.’ 

He leads the way around the market, insisting on tasting this and that and asking questions of the vendors about flavour pairings and serving suggestions until your tote bags are beginning to weigh you both down. You find a bench at the edge of the square and flop down onto it taking the weight off your aching shoulders. He follows after you, sliding the bags to one side so he can sit right beside you. 

‘Try this, cara mia,’ he holds a small pastry to your lips, one he has already tried if the tell tale crumbs around his lips were anything to go buy. You almost refuse, your tactical plan having flown out the window long ago at his insistence you taste test almost everything. He looks at you beseechingly though and you cave, opening your mouth and allowing him to feed it to you. Before he can pull away though you close your lips around his fingers, getting your own back the only way you can right now. He freezes, his pupils blown wide as he watches you suck the tips of his fingers. 

‘Fancy seeing you here.’ A voice you recognise breaks through your lustful haze. You almost choke between the pastry and Terzo whipping his fingers from your mouth as if they were burning. You swallow your mouthful without even registering if it was nice or not as you turn to see Lilly and Rich stood before you. You jump up quickly, offering them each a hug, then trying to stand between them and Terzo, wracking your brain to explain why you were out in public with Papa's fingers in your mouth. 

‘Hi guys, what a lovely surprise. You should really try the pastries from over there, they are very good…’ You can feel your face burning completely at a loss on how to explain away what they must have seen.

‘Will Papa hand feed them to us as well?’ Rich asks sardonically, looking at you with your eyebrows raised as if waiting for an answer. At least until Lilly elbows him sharply in the ribs. 

‘It’s so nice to see you and to see you too, Papa. Hello!’ She says leaning around you to offer Terzo a wave. He stands dusting crumbs from his face and his shirt and carefully keeping some space between you as he shifts to see them both. 

‘Hello, Sister…’ He glances at you and you realise he has never met them before and some introductions are in order.

‘Lilly, Ter… Papa, this is Lilly and Rich. We work together in the kitchens.’ Lilly smiles at him offering another wave which he returns but Rich still doesn’t look impressed, clearly wanting to confront you both on what he saw.

‘Ah, si. Hello, Sister Lilly and Brother Rich. And I can assure you those pastries are delicious whether fed from my own hands or not.’ He switches his Papa persona on, and it’s a little jarring after all this time. ‘Sorella here, I have tired her out having her carry all these bags of things I wanted. I thought I better not tire her arms any further.’ 

‘Right,’ Rich replies slightly at a loss for words. You don’t think his story has helped the situation at all but though he looks a little awkward and uncomfortable, it doesn’t seem like Terzo really minds the two of you getting caught, so you take a deep breath and relax.

‘All this shopping and eating… I could do with another coffee, I think. Si…’ He nods to himself, already heading towards the coffee stall. ‘Anyone else?’ He asks almost as an afterthought and you all nod. ‘Four coffees then, ok.’ The three of you watch him go but as soon as he is out of earshot, they both turn to you.

‘What the hell was that?’ Rich asks in an angry whisper. ‘I thought you were just doing your job and he was far too stressed about getting fired to try it on? Not that it looked like he had to try that hard…’ He had always been protective of the three of you, but you couldn’t help feeling defensive when he had no idea what had been growing between you.

‘Oh leave her be, they both looked happy while they were doing it. What does it matter?’ You smile at Lilly appreciatively, thankful for her understanding.

‘Guys, please just listen.’ You knew you had to explain something. ‘We, well, look, we just-’ You can’t even find the words to start. It’s not like with Mona where you can tell her everything and she just understands, not that you have time for that anyway. You glance over to the stall and see him standing in line, carefully studying the menu and certainly not looking back over every few seconds. ‘I… I can’t really explain what we are; not at the moment,’ you sigh. ‘But Lilly is right, we are happy, everything is fine.’ 

‘You do look happy, and he looks better too.’ Lilly says reassuringly and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

‘Yeah, no one can accuse you of slacking on feeding him.’ Both you and Lilly turn to glare at him.

‘Don’t be a dick, Rich!’ she admonishes him, treating him to another elbow to the ribs.

‘What?’ He says defensively rubbing his side. ‘He is looking a lot more well-fed than he ever did before.’ It isn’t an apology but it is probably as close as you will get from Rich. 

‘Could you guys just keep this between us, please?’ You feel like you are begging, but the last thing you want is people finding out about the two of you through gossip. You hadn’t really thought about it or discussed it but you were sure that Terzo would like to tell his brothers himself when the time was right.

‘Keep what? There’s nothing to tell anyway, right Rich?’ She threatens him with her elbow one last time but relents when he agrees with a flinch.  

‘Right, nothing to tell.’ The three of you look at him just as he looks away sharply and he gets handed the tray of coffees. You feel a little relief but the silence is awkward as you wait for him to make his way back over. 

‘Caffè for everyone!’ He announces on his return and you each take a cup.

‘Thank you Papa, that was very kind,’ Lilly thanked him genuinely. ‘But we better get going. We have a list. Mona has really taken to bossing us around since you've been gone.’ You know she is joking, but it still sends a pang through you. As happy as you are in your current position, you do miss them. ‘Anyway, it was lovely to see you! Bye!’ She grabs Rich by the elbow and drags him away with only one last glare over his shoulder. 

‘Terzo, I’m sorry,’ You say slumping back onto the bench.  

‘They didn’t know about us?’ He asks cautiously. He sits beside you but leaves enough space to be considered decent and keeps his hands to himself. You can’t decide if you are disappointed or not. 

‘No, they didn’t.’ You shoot him a sideways glance and he is looking down at his coffee, his expression unreadable. 

‘So, you haven’t spoken to anyone about…?’ He trails off, neither of you at a point of being able to define what is going on between you. ‘Even before, you didn’t seek out your friends?’

‘Well I did… Mona, but I trust her. She would never say anything.’ He holds up a hand to halt you and you feel a bubble of panic starting to grow in your chest.

‘That’s not what I meant, cara mia.’ He finally looks at you now and the bubble dissolves. His eyes are warm, full of care. ‘I am glad you spoke to your friend about this, just as I am glad of her discretion. I would hate to think about you being so upset and also alone.’

‘You were dealing with it all alone.’ His hand rests on the bench between you and you place yours over the top. It feels wrong not to be touching at all during such a conversation. 

‘Ah, I am used to it,’ he says, brushing you off. ‘I am used to it.’ He turns his hand under yours loosely lacing your fingers together. ‘And anyway, I am not alone anymore am I?’ It’s a slow smile that grows across his face, like he is only just realising it now. 

‘No you aren’t,’ you confirm, squeezing his hand and returning his smile. If you had your way he would never be alone again. 

‘May I ask,’ he pauses like he isn’t sure he wants to ask what he is about to say. ‘Why you didn’t tell your other friends?’ But this is something you can easily offer him an answer to.

‘Well it’s just… Lilly is young, she is only twenty. It feels a little odd talking to her about relationships when she feels like a little sister, and Rich? Well, he is the biggest gossip in the whole kitchen. It’s not that I don’t trust him, but he just gets a little carried away sometimes.’ You can’t help your fond smile. ‘And he is pretty protective of us, even if he can be a little bit of a dick about it.’

‘I see, I see.’ He seems happy enough accepting your reasons. ‘Are you ok?’ He inches a little closer now, already over keeping a sensible distance. 

‘Yeah, I am.’ You decide even as you are saying it. The confrontation with your friends could have gone better, but it could have gone a lot worse. And it’s better you get caught by your friends then any other random inhabitant of the Abbey. In fact, you should have foreseen this happening, going out together so close to home. You wonder if he feels the same though. ‘Are you?’

‘Si, I think it is time to go home though,’ he says and you nod in agreement. You think you have both had enough excitement for today. ‘I called for a car while I was waiting for the coffee,’ he admits a little sheepishly. 

‘Oh, thank Satan.’ Your relief is palpable, both your full stomach and your sore shoulders thankful. ‘I thought we were going to have to carry all of this back.’ 

• • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

Presentation is the second most important consideration and for that you need a suitable foundation. Depending on the number of people you are catering for you need a vessel large enough to hold enough food. The material is less important, dictated by aesthetic preference, whether you prefer wood, glass, slate or porcelain. Consider whether you need vessels for particular ingredients, additional cutlery to serve. By planning for all eventualities you make sure the meal is a success.

• • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

With a plea from you and an order from Terzo a ghoul assists in carrying the bags back to his rooms, leaving them on the kitchen table before departing to wherever it is ghouls go when off duty. You begin to unpack, starting to sort out the haul to put in the appropriate storage but he comes behind you taking your wrists in his hands and steers you back out of the kitchen. 

‘Mia cuocoina please,’ he murmurs against the back of my head. ‘I need peace for the art I am about to create.’ You try to suppress your laugh but it comes out an inelegant snort.

‘I can help,’ you reply, twisting in his arms to look at him. ‘Just tell me what you want me to do.’ 

‘No,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘It is my turn to make food for you!’ He continues shepherding you backwards towards his office. ‘Go have a nap, visit friends, whatever.’ he drops a kiss on your lips before spinning you back around. 

‘You may come back in two hours,’ he swats at your ass as he opens the door and lets you out into the hallway. 

You pause for a moment wondering where you even wanted to go. Going back to your rooms wasn’t very appealing, there were no distractions there and you knew the time would crawl by. The kitchens were out of the question right now if you didn't want to be subjected to the interrogation you were spared in town, something you were keen to avoid as long as possible. The gardens were an option except you could still feel the ache in your arms from carrying the bags around the market and you know for certain if Primo catches you in the garden there was no chance you would be leaving unencumbered by whatever vegetables he could give you. 

Your wandering takes you past the upper clergy offices, mostly dark and unused of a Saturday afternoon but you spot movement behind one of the doors and you are not surprised when you realise whose it is. There is only one person you know that would willingly work on a Saturday and fortunately that was a person you had been meaning to speak to. Since you and Terzo had joined his brothers for lunch in fact. You had no sweet treats prepared for him today but you were sure he could do with a break. He could always do with a break. 

Approaching the closed door you knock softly and wait for him to answer and the slightly frantic scuffling you can hear lets you know you won’t have to wait long. But a few moments pass before he answers the door. His exhaustion is plain on his face, sadly not much different than any of the other times you have seen him lately. 

‘Sorella,’ he says with a tired smile when he registers it is you at his door. ‘How can I help you today?’

‘I found myself at a loose end and saw you were working!’ You explain as he holds the door open for you and gestures to the seat before his desk. ‘And why are you working on a Saturday?’

‘There is so much to do and so little time,’ he says, flopping back into his chair with a heavy sigh. ‘I was not busy today anyway so I thought why waste time when there is so much to catch up on.’ The clergy’s decision to remove Terzo from his position has caused more problems than you had first thought. You can’t help thinking how odd it is that no new Papa had been appointed after all these months when there was clearly a need but you set that aside for now.

‘Even you need a break Cardinal.’ You struggle to keep the worry from your voice.

‘Well you are here, let's have a break now.’ His smiles grows more genuine as he speaks. ‘I wished to speak with you anyway.’ 

‘Yes me too,’ you agree. It makes it easier now that he has brought it up himself. ‘I have been meaning to come and see you since the lunch but well, you know Papa, he was keeping me busy. Even on my day off he had me going into town with him to the farmers market.’ You are starting to worry your blush is becoming permanent and you hope your smile isn’t as sappy as it feels. If you plan to continue keeping your relationship quiet you really need to get better at schooling your reactions. 

‘Si, I imagine Papa has lots to keep you busy.’ he agrees laughing but his face turns serious. ‘He is.. Well he is treating you well Sorella?’ He pauses, seeming to choose his words carefully, his fingers coming up to play with his moustache nervously. ‘Like a gentleman? When things are hard I think sometimes he can forget he is a good man.’ You sense that Copia may be talking from personal experience and having seen that side of Terzo yourself you are keen to reassure him.

‘I think I understand what you mean, Cardinal, he …’ You pause thinking over your wording just as carefully. ‘When I first began working for him he was different, while everything was fresh but he, we, found a compromise. He has apologised for some of his more thoughtless actions.’ Copia raises his eyebrows and you panic momentarily. ‘Oh nothing so bad and really, I had a lot of sympathy for his situation. I wasn’t expecting him to be at his best.’ 

‘It was regrettable what happened.’ He takes off his beretta and runs his hands through his hair. ‘It .. well it was unexpected for all of us, I think but it is good to see him doing better.’ He does look genuinely relieved even though the situation has clearly impacted him. ‘All this food seems to be doing the trick eh?’

‘The food probably has helped, yes,’ you laugh, and the rest you thought, keeping that to yourself. ‘But I think it is really just time, Cardinal.’ He would have improved with or without you over time but you do like to think you have helped him move on a little faster then he may have done otherwise. 

‘Now, can we discuss those notes you brought me to translate?’ His direct questions bring you straight back down from your romantic imaginings.

‘I was waiting for you to bring them up.’ You know you owe him something of an explanation  but you are not above waiting to see what he has worked out for himself.  

‘They, well I suppose I don’t know enough to say really,’ he begins confidently before tailing off. ‘But they didn’t read like professional recipes.’

‘That's because they weren’t but Cardinal, it’s not my place to say more, not that I even really know anymore.’ In this at least you can be honest. You could probably make a good guess as to who wrote out the recipes but you aren’t willing to voice that now. ‘He gave me some recipes and he never said where they came from or why that was all he wanted and I didn’t feel it was my place to ask. There were things said at lunch that might have given me some clues but even so.’ 

‘Si, before. I noticed that too.’ He takes a deep breath before continuing. ‘It has not been long since I was considered an outsider to them and outsiders really know very little by design. If it hadn’t been announced that I was also Nihils son then that would still be the case. But even though I never grew up the way that they did, well Secondo and Terzo anyway, I was here in the Ministry already and I saw what happened.’ 

You say nothing, waiting for him to continue sensing his need to unburden himself. 

‘I was brought up as an orphan you see and while most children in the church are brought up communally, orphan or otherwise, the Emeritus brothers were always separate.’ He switches into lecture mode but you still hang on his every word. There were very few people you mixed with who had been a member of the church for so long. ‘Primo has always been here, his mother was a Sister of great reputation chosen especially to birth an heir but Terzo and Secondo, their mothers must have met Nihil on his travels because they weren’t brought to the church until the were ten, Secondo only a few months before Terzo.’  

‘What happened to their mothers?’ A part of you feels bad even asking but your curiosity wins out. You would not feel comfortable asking Terzo himself this but it feels like the last piece in a puzzle you had been building since you had accepted this position. 

‘They just carried on with their lives I suppose. I know Primo fought with Nihil about it, that their mother’s should have been invited to join them or at least to visit but it was decided. No distractions, they had had ten years of normal life and now they were to prepare for their future as men of the Emeritus line.’ His expression turns wry as he continues. ‘It makes me almost glad that he didn’t acknowledge me until recently. I might have liked having brothers growing up though.’ You pat his arm where it rests on the desk offering what little comfort you can.  

‘Anyway I know Terzo’s mother tried for a while, sending packages of food and presents for him but I don’t know what happened after that. One day they just stopped coming.’ Your heart clenches, for Terzo, for Copia, for all of them. They may be in some of the most powerful positions in the Clergy but it was clear they had all been forced to sacrifice a lot for the privilege. 

‘It sounds like it wasn’t easy for any of you.’ Like any organisation there were machinations going on far above the notice of normal members like yourself, you weren’t naïve enough to think otherwise but you found it jarring learning that somewhere that had felt immediately like home and safety to you had treated these men so poorly.  

‘No I suppose not.’ He rubs his hands over his face, the conversation having turned heavier than either of you expected. After a moment he offers you a tired smile. ‘Now tell me more about this farmers market.’ You while away the rest of the time describing in detail the stalls and the tasters and when you eventually leave you hope you both are feeling a little lighter. 

• • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

Once you have your vessel and your ingredients prepared then all that is left is the arrangement. There are endless ways to arrange the food enticingly. If you want your dish to be eye-catching and mouth watering you must consider the balance of colour and texture. You can create contrast with light and dark meats or cheeses. You may introduce pops of colours with fresh fruits and berries and mix textures with a soft cheese, a juicy fruit and a crisp cracker. Complimentary flavours could be grouped, the arrangement of your board encouraging certain combinations both traditional and daring. Your final result will be a visually appealing and delicious dish to present.

• • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

It’s been a long time since you have had to knock before entering his quarters but it feels appropriate now, giving him a chance to finish the final touches to his creation before you enter. You almost reach the point of knocking again, wondering if he hadn’t heard you when he pulls the door open. He was still wearing his shirt and trousers but he had borrowed your apron.

‘This looks good on you,’ you tease, pulling at the strap around his neck, but he only takes your hand and leads you inside.

‘Now cara mia you are in for a treat if I do say so myself.’ When you reach the dining room he stops you, placing his hands over your eyes as he guides you the final distance. ‘No peaking now,’ He says as he positions you at the end of the table. 

‘Ta daaa,’ He uncovers your eyes and as you blink you can’t help but be impressed. The centre of the table is covered in what may be every plate in the kitchen; each one has a different cheese and its suggested accompaniments arranged around it. You had fought valiantly for any cheeses other than Italian but he had refused to budge keen for you to taste all of his favourites. He pours you a glass of wine, a deep red and hands you a glass. 

‘This is Barolo, aged in oak caskets it is the most decadent of Italian wines. The King of wines they call it.’ You take a sip and examine the flavours. It is rich, fruity and floral but with an earthiness that should pair well with your meal this evening. You were by no means a wine expert but your palette was well developed over your career and you can tell an expensive wine when you taste one. 

‘Terzo this is very extravagant,’ you stop when he raises his hand.

‘You deserve the best, cara mia, as does this cheese!.’ He gestures across the table and you survey all the options before you, savouring another sip of the wine. In the middle he has laid out a selection of crackers, water, butter and grain in a variety of different shapes. There was crumbling gorgonzola drizzled with honey to calm the bite of the blue veins and topped with quartered grapes and shelled pistachios. Slices of nutty pecorino sit between folded slices of ham generously filled with halved figs and walnuts. Cubes of provolone mixed with slices of olive oil, cured sopressata and green olives and taleggio and apple slices wrapped in salty prosciutto. Finally a bowl of whipped mascarpone, dark red cherry and balsamic dressing pooling between the peaks and whole cherries and pecans sinking into the soft cheese. 

He pulls out your chair for you, getting you comfortably seated then he goes to take off the apron before joining you at the table waiting as you take in the whole spread. It is strange being on the receiving end of such a gesture. You can’t remember the last time someone had prepared an extravagant meal for you like this, even if he had only sliced and arranged the food, it was clear how much effort he has put in to impress you.

He lets you start helping yourself to the plate closest to you when you struggle to decide where to begin with so many enticing options. The two of you are quiet for a time only pausing to express your pleasure with the flavours to each other. After trying at least two helpings of each cheese you sit back with your wine before your stomach begins protesting after your second round of overindulging for the day.

‘Thank you for doing this Terzo,’ you say as you watch him assemble another mouthful. ‘I’m not sure I remember the last time someone did this for me.’ He pauses before taking a bite, looking at you in surprise.

‘Is that so?’ He looks thoughtful as he finishes off his mouthful, getting every trace from his fingers. ‘You are very welcome, cara mia. In fact I enjoyed doing this more than I thought.’ 

‘Am I out of a job now?’ You joke just to watch his eyes widen in panic.

‘Hold on no no!’ He shakes his head emphatically. ‘I did not mean that at all. I will always prefer your incredible cooking.’ 

‘I suppose I will stick around then,’ you reassure him.

‘Thank Satan as much as this was fun. I could not imagine doing it everyday, multiple times.’ He looks exhausted just thinking about it. ‘You are a superwoman, mia cuocoina.’ 

‘I’m not, I just enjoy it,’ you explain. You always had since you were young and had followed your mother around the kitchen.

 ‘Why do you think you were so drawn to cooking?’ He asks. It wasn’t something you had thought much about before. It had just been a fact of your life. 

‘Well I like food obviously,’ you say with a laugh but you pause as you think of what it is you enjoy most about it. ‘I think it's just such a big part of our lives, we have to eat to survive so why not make that as enjoyable as we can?’ Of course it is your job and has been for the longest time but there is a more personal element to it, especially when it comes to people you care about. ‘And you know if you can cook you can make your friend a delicious soup when they are ill, you can make their favourite pasta dish after they just got dumped or you can bewitch a man by making his stomach fall for you first,’ you finish with a wink.

‘Mmmm I see,’ he says sipping his wine, his eyes going heavy lidded as he regards you. ‘So this was your plan was it?’ His voice goes deep and teasing and you shift in your seat. 

‘No, just a happy accident.’ You lean towards him without even noticing, so easily drawn into his orbit. ‘I think my food was just too good for you to resist.’ He nods in agreement, conceding to your point but this conversation is far from its end.

‘And what about you?’ He holds your gaze, keeping you attentive to his every word. 

‘What about me?’ You ask, tilting your head not quite understanding his question.

‘What made you unable to resist your Papa?’ You swallow thickly. There are so many reasons you wouldn’t even know where to start.

‘You don’t need me to tell you how irresistible you are.’ you say instead. You aren’t against stroking his ego usually but you know he is well aware of his affect on people and you in particular. 

‘I have my own charms. I am in no doubt about that.’ He says confidently and you know it is true. ‘You though? I think it is a little different than any I have seduced before.’

‘Oh?’ You have an inkling where he is going with this. You had your suspicions that there were a lot more feelings involved then either of you were used to in your past relationships but this didn’t feel like the build up to a heartfelt confession. He was looking at you as if he had been leading you to a trap and you had just fallen in. 

‘You like feeding me.’ he states, matter of fact, placing his wine glass down on the table.

‘Yes we have discussed that.’ You are sure the two of you had discussed how you enjoyed taking care of him even as early as your first dinner together.  

‘No we haven’t. Feed me.’ His voice is hard but not cold as he orders you but you hesitate.

‘What?’ You think back trying to clear your confusion and you remember the lunch or more specifically just before when you had been reassuring him in his bedroom. You had known then that he wouldn’t drop that forever but it still didn’t make you any more prepared. 

‘I am not yet satisfied. Feed me.’ You swallow again, unable to control your body's reaction to his strict demands. You want to obey him, to feed him but again you hesitate. 

‘Terzo …’ He gives you a stern look cutting you off before you can continue. ‘Papa?’ It comes out as a question but it seems obvious what he wants. He rewards you with a smirk. 

‘I want some more gorgonzola, si,’ He encourages as you take a water cracker and begin to load it with cheese. ‘Plenty of honey too per favore then be a brava cuocoina and feed it to me. Then I will explain.’ You offer him the cracker and he tuts at you shaking his head.

‘Uh uh,’ he sighs. ‘Do it properly.’ He pushes the plates to the side and pats the table in front of him. You stand uncertainly but he pats the table again until you sit before him and offer him the cracker a second time. He scoots his chair forward forcing you to spread your legs to accommodate him but now he is in the perfect position for you to place the food in his waiting mouth. He chews slowly, moaning low as the flavours combine and harmonise on his tongue. 

‘Mia cuocoina, I think the taleggio now, no?’ You take his suggestion, the rolls of prosciutto and apple are much easier to feed him. He watches you for a moment before continuing. ‘There were clues you see but I did not notice at first. Now though, now your Papa understands.’ You offer him the next bite but his warm hand closes around your wrist holding you in place. 

‘You kiss me differently, did you know this? After we have eaten, you like me tasting of food you made me I think.’ You feel like you can’t breathe as he begins listing all the things he has noticed. ‘And my clothes, you look at me differently too, when things get a little tighter, tighter than they used to be. You like seeing how I have changed with every meal you have fed me I think.’ You can’t deny it because what he says is true. A part of you had hoped he might not have noticed everything but with every word that hope gets smaller and smaller. 

‘And now here. Your heart is racing and yet all I have done is eat a little from your own hands.’ He pauses to take a bite, his teeth sinking into the soft cheese and crisp apple and just grazing the tip of your fingers. ‘You enjoy feeding me, more than you realise I think.’ 

‘Papa I …’ You don’t know what to say. He doesn’t look angry or upset but you feel the urge to apologise even as words fail you. He swallows the last bite freeing your wrist.

‘Shhh it is ok mia cuocoina.’ His hands trail down to your ankles tracing miscellaneous shapes into your skin. ‘Cherries now per favore. The balsamic cherries with the mascarpone. His fingers creep up your calves ghosting the shape of you before hooking behind your knees. He pulls you forward until you are sitting at the edge of the table. You lean across him, choosing a butter cracker, the thicker texture better to support the soft cheese. 

‘I am craving something sweeter,’ he explains. You bring it to his lips, the cherry juice starting to drip down your fingers and he catches it with his tongue leaving a sticky trail behind it before closing his lips over the mouthful. Your breath catches in your throat and his eyelids droop seductively as he sucks the last traces of juice and cheese from your fingers. 

‘That didn’t quite hit the spot,’ he says, hands already sliding your skirt up your thighs until he can clearly see your underwear and the wet patch there is little point trying to hide. ‘Ah so I was right. You do enjoy hand feeding your Papa.’ He spreads your legs even further so he can lean close enough that you feel his steady breathing against you. ‘After all that fuss.’ He grazes his teeth over your clit, the material of your underwear protecting you but the threat still makes your thighs shake. When he does bite down it’s only on the hem of your underwear as he pulls them to the side leaving you bare to him for the first time.

He just looks at first holding you in suspense but in a split second his tongue is all over you yet somehow still not hitting any places you wanted him, needed him. Around and around he swirls his tongue over your folds, then the most gentle suction. Little sounds of enjoyment he seems unaware of that vibrate through you as he tastes you thoroughly. But his teasing as you fed him, his sucking and nipping at your fingers had already got you ready for so much more. Giving in you lace your fingers through his hair to guide him to exactly where you want his attention most but he resists all your attempts, making the frustration inside you build and build. You try another tactic grinding your hips against his face but he pulls away pressing your hips down onto the table and stopping any further movement and forcing a whine from deep in your chest.

‘Cuocoina, please. I am just trying to properly enjoy my meal.’ He pauses to lick a long stripe, tongue flat and broad to give you as much friction as possible. You can’t breathe, not for a moment, the sudden rush of pleasure the only thing your mind can comprehend but almost as soon as it starts it ends the only thing you can feel are the puffs of his warm breath.

‘But perhaps you would prefer to feed me this too?’ He positions himself that he is a hair's breadth away from you before his vice-like grip on your hips loosens. ‘Feed me’ he growls and you have to obey.

You grind your hips against him over and over, his tongue finding your entrance making your thighs shake as you fight to get him even deeper. Your foot loses purchase where it had settled on the arm of his chair and you scream as your clit catches the tip of his nose. One of his hands finds its way to your thigh helping to steady you but the other creeps up your body underneath your dress. He cups your breast over bra, his maddening fingers finding your already hard nipple through the light material pinching and twisting until you can't decide if you want to arch into his teasing hand or push back against his face. 

‘Papa! Terzooo,’ you moan his name in frustration, struggling as your pleasure builds to take what you need from him but he finally takes pity on you, hooking both your legs over his shoulders and lifting your hips clean off the table.

‘Fuck mia cuocoina,’ he growls against your core. He sucks your clit long and hard until you scream your toes curling against his back. ‘Sei la cosa migliore che abbia mai assaggiato, cazzo.’ You barely register his switch to Italian, too busy chanting his name in your pleasure fuelled delirium.

You are so close to the edge when his lips close over you sucking and sucking while his tongue swipes over your clit over and over again. You can feel it building, a charge shooting through your nerves from the soles of your feet to the palms of your hand and you continue babbling his name, repeating until it is almost meaningless. He pinches your nipple, hard, and you arch up from the table with a gasp just as he slides a finger inside you curling it perfectly to press against your g spot. 

Every bit of air is forced from your lungs as your orgasm overtakes you. Your ears begin to ring as the force of it pulses through your body and what feels like every muscle contracting and releasing as you gasp for air. Your hands are still gripping at his hair keeping him in place not that it is needed as he laps at you greedily, catching every last drop of your orgasm. 

‘Making sure you are well fed?’ You giggle deliriously, still feeling somewhat detached from reality. You release your death grip on his hair and he sets your hips back down on the table helping you ease the vice-like grip of your thighs around him. His face is wet with your slick but it only emphasises his flushed cheeks. He grins at you in satisfaction, his eyes sparkling as he takes in the state he has made of you.

He pulls you back upright by your hands after straightening your underwear and your dress but this time no one could mistake the treatment you had just received. Your balance has not yet returned and so helps you into his lap where you can lean against his warm body. As you get settled you can feel his hardness trapped beneath you but as you reach for him cupping him through his trousers, he catches your wrist gently and instead wraps your arms around his neck. He distracts you by stealing kisses and you discover you almost enjoy the taste of you on his lips as much as you enjoy the taste of the food you make him.   

He slows your frantic kisses down, only offering you slow pecks to help you actually catch your breath. He rubs your back soothingly over your dress and encourages you to rest against him but you still end up clinging to his shoulders to help keep you upright as the haze of your pleasure recedes leaving you exhausted. He tucks your hair behind your ear, his hand settling at the back of your neck.

‘Mmm, now I am satisfied,’ he whispers against your lips before distracting you again with his captivating kisses. 

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN ||SEASON 6 EPISODE 08 || I AM NOT ALONE ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

Come. Mo chridhe. Lie down.

There's nothing else to do,is there?

Nothing else but wait.

I might say an Act of Contrition.

We did that always the night before a battle.

Just in case.

All right, then. Just in case.

Wait. You say it in French?

Aye. I was fightingwi' French mercenaries then.

I didna want to stand out.

I can say it in Gaelic or English if ye prefer.

English, please. Just this once.

 Oh, my God,

I am heartily sorry for offending Thee.

I detest all my sins for thy just punishments,

but most of all, my God, because they offend Thee.

My God who art all good and deserving of all my love.

How many times, would you say, have I come close to dying?

I don't know.

You were dreadfully ill at the abbey after Wentworth,

and after Culloden, you said you had a terrible fever from your wounds.

You thought you might die.

Only Jenny nursed you through it.

Hmm, forced me through it, more like.

Hmm.

That's when Laoghaire tried to k*ll you.

And you forced me through that.

And likewise when the snake bit me.

Do you count the shipwreck?

You almost died then, not me.

Very well, then. Have it your way.

Hmm.

Then, of course, there's your...

Back. Aye.

You're a hard man to k*ll, I think.

Hmm.

That brings me a great deal of comfort.

Dare I ask why you're bringing this up, though?

 I was thinking about France. A thing that happened to me.

There was an auld fortune teller reading palms.

She grabbed my hand

and spat into my palm

before I could object.

Bent so close,

I could smell the ancient sweat of her.

"T'es un chat, toi," she said.

She said you were a cat?

Mm-hmm.

I tried to pull away, but she held firm.

Then she said, "Neuf."

She said she saw the number nine

written in my hand...and also death.

Do you think you have nine lives?

I hope so.

I never thought that hearing a litany of your near-death experiences would bring me so much peace.

Or maybe it's just the nearness of you.

[nanshe-of-nina]

Medieval Women Week || Favorite woman writer ↬ Marie de France

Who was this versatile author, the first woman of her times to have written successfully in the vernacular? She was definitely not Marie de Champagne, daughter of Eleanor of Aquitaine and patroness of Chrétien de Troyes, as Winkler suggested. A tempting, but by no means fully convincing, identification is with Marie, abbess of Shaftesbury in Dorset, illegitimate daughter of Geoffrey Plantagenet and half-sister to Henry II. … A claim has been made, albeit somewhat thin, for Mary, abbess of Reading. This abbey was well known as a centre of literary activity and had in its possession the Harley manuscript containing, as we have seen, both the Fables and the Lais. There is no clear-cut reason why either work could not have been written by an abbess or a nun, and there is some slight evidence of experience of monastic life in Le Fresne, Yonec and Eliduc. But the prominence of the motif of adultery in the Lais (see also fables 44 and 45), Marie’s attitude towards the dissolution of marriage in Le Fresne and Eliduc, and her evident interest in the chivalric life suggest that these love poems were not written by someone steeped in ecclesiastical ideology. … Marie de France was certainly an educated lady of good family, who knew Latin well enough to have contemplated translating a Latin work into French (Lais, Prologue, vv. 28–32) and to have done so in the case of the Espurgatoire. She was obviously a good linguist and acquired a sound knowledge of English before translating the fables. She was also fully conversant with the life and aspirations of the nobility of her time. Her education could well have been obtained in a convent and her knowledge of court life from her upbringing and personal experiences in England. Was she Marie, the eighth child of Waleran de Meulan (also called Waleran de Beaumont), a member of one of the greatest of the Norman houses? Waleran’s fief was in the French Vexin, which would tally with Marie’s statement that she comes from France and explain her evident local knowledge of the town of Pitres in the Norman Vexin… Marie de Meulan married Hugh Talbot, baron of Cleuville, owner of lands in Herefordshire and Buckinghamshire, as well as in Normandy, and a member of a family prominent in several English counties including Devonshire, Gloucestershire and Kent. Marie’s father is an interesting figure – a loyal and courageous soldier, but also a well-educated man who may have written Latin verse. Moreover, several of the manuscripts of the Historia Regum Britanniae of Geoffrey of Monmouth are dedicated to him. It is tempting to think that his daughter may have known William of Gloucester, a possible Count William, as his father was also one of Geoffrey’s dedicatees. Marie de Meulan may, however, have been too young to be Marie de France, as her birth seems to date from the 1140s, perhaps as late as 1150. The most recent identification has been as Marie, countess of Boulogne after 1154, daughter of Stephen of Blois (King of England, 1135–54) and of Matilda of Boulogne. Educated in a convent, Marie de Boulogne became abbess of Romsey in Hampshire, but was removed from her convent by Henry II, who wanted to keep Boulogne in his sway. She was married off to Matthew of Flanders and thus became the sister-in-law of Hervé II, son of Guiomar of Léon... Eventually, at some time between 1168 and 1180, Marie de Boulogne returned to a convent, perhaps that of Sainte Austreberthe at Montreuil-sur-Mer in her own county. Her Count William could have been William of Mandeville, a crusade companion of Philip of Flanders, her husband’s brother. The ‘noble king’ would probably have been the Young King, as Philip and Matthew, originally supporters of Henry II, changed sides in 1173. Marie herself may have already been a supporter of the Young King, as in 1168 she sent Louis clandestine information about the secret negotiations between Henry and the Emperor Frederick. — The Lais of Marie de France translated with an introduction by Glyn S. Burgess and Keith Busby

[johannestevans]

I have added my ongoing serials to ScribbleHub, in case people read there!

Prophet's Cry

Erotic romance/drama, M/M infidelity leading to M/M/M where a boss doesn't realise that the man he's started seeing is the husband of the subordinate coworker he's been fucking over his desk. Rated E, 20k+. This has a Steddyhands flavour if that's your vibe.

Prophet Shulman, Administrative Secretary at the Middlesbrough branch of Friar Holdings, has been on the verge of divorce for the past twenty years, almost ever since he got married.

Shagging his boss might make him as bad as his husband, but what the Hell's the point in trying to be good anymore?

Meanwhile, Vance Vixen, recently emerged from his own divorce and also the closet, when not shagging his Admin Secretary in the stationery cupboard, begins a delicate romance with a bartender named Gideon Shulman.

Read on ScribbleHub / / Ao3 / / Medium

Powder and Feathers

Dark erotic romance between a highly manipulative Fallen angel and a depressed, lonely alcoholic of an artist, fantasy and magical elements throughout. Rated E M/M with some fucking around, lots of kink, possession, weird flavours of trauma around bodily autonomy & abuse recovery.

This is originally inspired by Les Misérables, but if you love the French nastiness of Lestat de Lioncourt, you might enjoy the same vibes in Jean-Pierre Delacroix. Ditto if you generally like fucky angel mythology.

It seems to Aimé Deverell that there is very little point to life, except for what pleasures can be enjoyed before the grave. Life is short - thank God - but at least there's enough in the world to dull the senses in the meantime.

That philosophy shatters like glass when he meets Jean-Pierre, an angel.

Read on ScribbleHub / / Ao3 / / WorldAnvil / / Medium

Rescue Dogs

Slice-of-life and trauma recovery with some fucked-up romance and fantasy on the side between an ex-knight of the realm and destined hero and his ex-PE teacher. M/M with that E rating. Age gap, teacher/student vibes, trauma recovery, etc - ex-hero and child of destiny tries to be a normal person.

If you like the vibes of post-war fucked-up Snarry, you'll vibe with this; if you like the fucked-up destiny dynamics in BBC Merlin, ditto. In general, if you like it when men identify a little bit too much with abused dogs, this is the story for you.

Cecil Hobbes, an ex-PE teacher disgraced and looked down on in his hometown, has a new partner: Sir Valorous King, a knight of the realm, once a child of prophecy, and Cecil’s stalker.

A few months into their relationship, Cecil finally convinces Valorous to see a therapist, on the condition that Cecil attend one himself.

Read on ScribbleHub / / Ao3 / / WorldAnvil / / Medium

An Uncommon Betrothal

Period romance set in the 20th century interwar period between a disabled gentleman and his butler. Also E, also M/M. Lots of disability and chronic illness feelings here alongside a growing desire for and sense of queer community as a man begins for the first time to reach out and experiment with his sexuality whilst being disabled.

If you love Jeeves and Wooster or if you love more serious valet and butler vibes, such as Thomas plotlines in Downton Abbey, you'll vibe with this; if you're generally craving plots with disabled, fat, and neurodivergent men being very explicitly desiring, desirable, and desired, you'll like this!

Alexos Fox is of course quite sad when the long-time butler of his household, the man who all but raised him, retires. He is not at all prepared for the old man’s replacement: his exceedingly attractive and painfully tempting nephew, Harry Sutton.

Alexos, overcome with feelings that are simply too much to repress, tries his best to avoid him, but it seems that Mr Sutton has more than his employment on his mind as he attends his new employer with keen and concentrated focus.

Read on ScribbleHub / / Ao3 / / WorldAnvil / / Medium

[rumbelleshowdown]

-

Author: Rose Tea

Group: B

Prompts- Historical AU- Regency, monster hunter, flood.

-

Intentions

Miss Arabella French, known to those closest to her as Belle,   a rather handsome knowledgeable woman of one and twenty,  well-read and well- disposed by her gentle upbringing and naturally friendly demeanour, felt happy in the life she knew. The only daughter of the town parson,  she had a lifelong  passion for  knowledge and reading.  Due in no small part to the influence of her late mother,  who had fallen ill and was laid to rest  some three years ago. 

As she matured in age, however, Miss French began to  feel a sense of longing. A longing to  experience more of  the world beyond the walls of Avonlea Abbey or her father’s watchful eye . Years passed, and the family slowly began to sink into poverty.  Belle spent many an evening deep in prayer for any respite from her situation.  

She found  her answer one  spring afternoon. Arabella has taken a pause from her sewing to spend hours  engulfed in Byron when the Abbey was greeted with a visitor.  Marking the passage in her book,  Arabella tuned her ears to listen. 

She could hear three rather distinct voices:  one  she knew as her father,  the other  the unmistakable bragging tone of Captain Gaston—-- her recently betrothed, and the other unfamiliar but with an almost musical lilt.  

As curiosity got the better of her, Arabella  went to investigate. 

“Arabella, my dear,  “ Her father gave her  a soft smile.  “ May I  introduce you to Mr Gold.  He has come  to make an offer that he claims shall benefit us all.” 

Arabella looked at the man  curiously.  She had heard countless rumours  about Mr Gold. Many  had described him  as a sort of rake. The sort of man who preferred the company of a select few, if even that.  He was often called ‘a great beast’ and had a temperament to match.  

Swallowing hard, Arabella  gave  the man a petite curtsy.  “How do you do, Mr Gold? “   Trying to hide all traces of fear behind propriety.  

Mr Gold bowed with effort. “ it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said, before  turning back to the other two men. 

“Your offer” Arabella began,  her thoughts already racing. “ Do you plan on purchasing the Abbey?” 

Mr Gold’s expression changed.  He looked directly towards her.  “I had considered the thought,”  He rubbed his hands together.  “ Though   I believe I have a new offer in mind.” He  stepped towards her,  the shuffling of his cane on the floor growing louder with each step.   “ My proposition is to you, Miss French.  You shall come with me.” 

Arabella could see her father and Gaston’s mouths agape. 

“No!” exclaimed her father.  “ I cannot allow this.  She is my only daughter. Whatever your intentions may be , Gold,  I forbid this!” 

Gaston reached out a hand, as if grasping her shoulder in protection.  “ Miss French is engaged. To me. I know your sort. On the battlefields I’ve become adept at hunting monsters.” 

Mr Gold shook his head.  “I can assure you my intentions are nothing untoward.  “ He made a face in mock offense. “ I am simply in need of a caretaker. I am in possession of a rather large estate.  No harm will come to  her, and it shall be  enough payment to restore this”  He looked around the Abbey . “wretched place.” 

Arabella spoke up.  “I shall go with him.  I must.  This is is my home.  And I have often dreamt of seeing other places.” 

Her father sighed.  “Then  I approve.  I only pray that no harm will come to you.”  

—----

The carriage ride from Avonlea Abbey to  Gold’s estate felt like an eternity.  Mr Gold was not one for conversation, but  Belle  had brought a few books  to occupy herself on the way.  After their arrival and caring for the horses,   she assumed now would be as good a time as any to ask. 

“If I may, Mr Gold,  what shall I be required to do?”  She surveyed the estate .  It was massive, larger than  anywhere she had seen before. If the rumors were correct, Gold  had  made a generous bit of money dealing in wool and one of the up and coming factories.   

Gold raised a hand, ticking off each detail on his fingers.  “You are to keep  the estate clean, you are to  cook my meals, do a bit of sewing,  and you are to  go to market if necessary. I shall provide you the money .” 

Belle nodded, taking in each detail.  “I understand. Perhaps I could start by preparing your tea?”   

Maneuvering  to the kitchen,  she returned several moments later with a pot of tea and two steaming cups.  As she carried them , however, one of the cups slipped from her hand , hitting the floor . 

“I do aplogize!” Belle said frantically,  carefully bending down to clean it. “ It is only a chip.” 

“No matter. It is only a cup.” 

—-----

Months passed at the Gold estate.  Belle had gotten a sort of routine now each morning. She awoke as the sun rose ,  prepared his breakfast,  washed and mended any of his clothes , cleaned the kitchen ,  and every now and then—-usually on Sundays,  had a few moments in which she could delve into her books.  

One particular Sunday,,  something most extraordinary happened.   

After breakfast and her prayers and contemplation,  Belle had began to clear the dishes when the shuffling of a cane greeted her.  

“ Miss French,  a word?” 

Belle clumsily rinsed a pan .  “ Sir?” 

“ I have been invited to a ball this evening.  However,  I am out of practice at dancing and am in need of a partner.”  He gestured for her to follow him.   “And you shall wear this.”  He pointed to a golden silk gown laid onto her bed.   

A flood of emotions overtook Belle in that one moment.  “Oh, Mr Gold.  I cannot accept this.  “  

“Consider it a gift then.”  

—-----

The ballroom was crowded that night-  dancers bowing to their partners as the country dance began.   

As the last notes of the final piece played,  Belle looked into Mr Gold’s eyes as they danced.  She had not noticed the sadness and emotion permeating through them.   

“You are quite good” He commented,  nearly leaning in to kiss her.  “ And there is one other request, Miss French. :” 

Belle felt the warmth throughout her whole body at his kiss.  “ A request?” 

Mr Gold nodded.  “ When we were introduced ,  I explained my intentions to you and your father.  Do you recall?” 

Belle smiled.  “I do indeed.” 

“ And I shall add an additional one.  I intend to marry you.”  

-

[obsessedwithlarkin]

WELL-KNOWN DANCERS COMPETING AT KAR MESA:

ELITE DANCE PRO:

•Jordan Lavigne - Can't Turn You Loose, Uneven Grounds, Heart Of Stone

GATEWAY DANCE CENTER:

• Oakley Hill - New York New York

• Alaina Igleski- You Are So Beautiful

• Kaydence Lawton - White Flowers

• Colette Sutzman - Ring Them Bells

PLATTFORM:

• Jaycee Allen- Click Clack

• Brooklyn Bell - If I Ain't Got You

• Presley Bell- Wonder

• Ava Browne - Fallin

• Olivia Jacobs - Madness

• Aliyah Middleton - The Leaving Song

• Audrey Patton - It'll Be Okay, Experience

• Mallory Petit- Survive

• Audrey Tanney- Fields Of Gold

DANCE DELUXE:

• Brielle Bailey - I'm Available

• Livian Bailey- Dimples

• Aria Bongiorno- Heavenly Bodies, Home

• Adelina Quintanilla- Velma

• Azury Romero- Rose's Turn

• Remi Skidmore- Life Of The Party

• Vanessa Soto - Sway, Cloaked By Ravens Wings, Love In The Dark

• Brighton Taylor- Buisness Of Love, Good Girl

CLUB:

•Finley Adcox - Landslide

• Aubree Adjudani - I Like To Fuss

• Zoe Agacoili - Yellow Polka Dot Bikini

• Allie Aston - Buisness Of Love

• Riley Bagnoli- Good Looking, Always On My Mind

• Preslie Ball- Show Off

• Parker Banks - Yesterday, Good At Being Bad

• Haven Berwick- Weird People, Floating

• Brooklyn Besch - Illusions

• Kennedy Besch- In The Mood, Longing

• Kinsley Camp - Snowing

• Kennedi Cartwright- May It Be

• Aria Chaidez- That's My Boy

• Kennedy Chzarchowski- Broadway Baby

• Blakely Cox - Resilience

• Faye Cunnigham- Sweet Old Fashioned Girl

• Sunny Cunnigham- Here Comes The Sun

• Poppy Cunnigham- Strut

• Peyton De La Cerda- Oh So Quiet, Beautiful Dreamer

• Maddie Downs- Be A Little Bad

• Kennedy Elliott- A Thousand Years, Roxie

• Zoe Evans - Sweet Georgia Brown

• Everly Goldsmith- Roxie

• Evie Goodman- Beautiful Like Me

• Rory Hanson - Amayzing Mayzie

• Jolie Harris - Withstand

•Cara Hart- Take My Love

• Harlow Hilmo- Let You Go

• Dana Homes- Mama Makes 3

• Hazel Jenkins- Millie, Wherever You Will Go

• Kimber Keffler- One Of The Boys

• Lily Knopps- Rose's Turn, When We Remember, This Bitter Earth, Big Time

• Berkli Lehew- Proud Mary

• Bella Linman- Fawn, Black Swan

• Kendall Lovrant- My Boyfriend's Back

• Kennedy Marble- Hit Me With A Hot Note, Bitter Earth

• Peyton Marble - Charge It Please, Landslide

• Kinley Martz - Respect, Can You Feel The Love Tonight

• Kambria Merrill- Halleluijah

• Kailey Miller- Halleluijah

• Kriesten Morales- Evil Like Me

• Sailor Moyers- Give Him A Great Big Kiss

• Cambrie O'Haver- Crazy Little Thing Called Love, Winter

• Elodie Olson- Spanish Rose

• Avery Palacios- Off With Their Heads, Ohh Child

• Carsyn Palacios- Poor Unfortunate Souls

• Ava Palmer - Black Bird

• Kinley Palmer- Let Yourself Go

• Skye Parkinson- Songbird, You Gotta Get A Gimmick

• Blakely Paule- If They Could See Me Now, Pver The Rainbow

• Paislee Perkins- If

• Addison Pichette- Rain, Copacabana

• Avery Pichette- Baby Mine

• Dolly Putton- Rich & Famous

• Kynzlie Plote- I Prefer You

• Delaney Poulson- Big French Boyfriend, Once Upon Another Time

• Leo Robbins- It's Not Unusual

• River Robbins- I Remember You, Wild And Reckless

• Scarlett Robinson- Something New, Big Breaths

• Brielyn Rosales- Mambo Italiano

• Harper Scates - All That Jazz

• Remy Schwalb- Dimples, Silent Night

• Harper Schwalb- Clap, In The Light Of The Moon

• Abbey Scott- In My Memory, Razzle Dazzle

• Hadlie Scott- Locomotion

• Charlie Seals - Hold On Together, Lady Like Me

• River Sergerman- Unwanted

• Ellie Self - Emergence

• Tatum Self- Roxy Hart, Spectrum Of Love

• Paisley Self- Me And My Baby

• Jolene Serna- Baby Mine, Lipstick On Your Collar

• Olivia Serna- Don't Worry About Me

• Hazel Silverman- Mambo Italiano, Between Each Breath

• Hannah Slater- Snowing

• Bryn Spears- Le Jazz Hot, Youth

• Stella Stolz, I Need A Man

• Kate Valentine- Come Into My Arms

• Emersyn Varker- These Boots, Say Something,

• Emerson Van Houten - Little Bird

• Emersyn Vincent- Girl In 14G

• Eastyn Vose - I'm Not Taking Any Chances, Eternity

• Zoe Zwick- The Boyfriend

[beevean]

My main issue with the idea that Annette is supposed to be implulsive in the sense that it's an intended flaw is that she never gets flack for it

Oh sure she sorta gets flack from her teacher for how she treated Richter (and we know how that scene played out), but she's never outright called out for her impulsive behavior

The only exception is that one scene where Maria of all people tells her not to go outside and to wait for Richter to return, but nothing bad comes out of that experience, in fact she manages to track down and kill her slaverer, and in those moments where she does fuck up (like episode 2) the story never focuses on that, but it sure likes to focus on Richter's moment of weakness!

This.

Annette being angry and aggressive because of her past is understandable. Annette believing her pain is more important than that of who she sees as privileged Europeans is also understandable - wrong, but hey, trauma can do that to you.

But everyone just coddles her delicate sensitivities at the expense of Richter, who really does nothing wrong to be deserved such treatment. Dude just questioned Annette's impulsive "plan" of going to the abbey and wrecking havok, and he gets called a coward? He gets his trauma thrown into his face, when he shared it with Annette thinking she could sympathize? And the others don't even gasp???

And Cecile too! You think she's making a point that Richter and Annette suffered similar pain and she shouldn't judge, and then she literally implies that yes, French people will never care about Annette's pain! Woman! What are you doing! Stop proving her right!

This isn't even a racism or sexism issue. Alucard is just as much of a cunt to Trevor as Annette is, and once again Sypha defends him more readily than he ever defends Trevor. "ohhh but he's more depressed than you 🥺" you are a terrible person. And even then, at least the story wants us to think that Trevor "deserves" it for being allegedly rude! Richter is genuinely a nice guy!

And as you said, no one is mean enough to shake Annette by the shoulders and tell her "girl you're the one who fucked up. you're the reason edouard is a monster. stop being such an asshole. you're no better than us".

It's like when in NFCV, I'm supposed to cheer for Nosaac when he "forgave" Mehctor for not having agency. As if Nosaac didn't spend weeks killing innocents because he wanted an army, while Mehctor went through literal Hell for the crime of being a bit immature. No, we're supposed to be happy that he decided "eh I want to do more important shit with my life". Fuck off with your narrative favoritism.

[kavalyera]

11, 14 and 21 For your Vince oc pwease :3

11) What actor or voice actor do you see best playing as your OC?

Honestly the closest person I think matches Vince’s face shape is Caleb Landry Jones😭 I mean just look at the guy.

Doesn’t he look like a disturbed french medieval teenager that’s forced to study in an abbey/convent :3

14) What about any siblings, do they have any and is their relationship good?

Vince is a demon so she doesn’t really have siblings but if you count other demons then it’s bad….he literally eats other demons to exorcise them LMAO what a sibling relationship amirite mate

21) Any embarrassing secrets your OC demands you take to the grave but you will share anyway?

Vince wants to be a human, it sees how cool humans are (not really) and really does want to experience what it’s like being a human hence why they work so tightly with a Mother Superior who teaches young teenagers/adults how to be “good” in the eyes of God (well tbh they don’t gaf about God he just really wants to eat human food without feeling MORE hungry😭)

[macgyvertape]

Castlevania Nocturn s1 thoughts/liveblog

This season more like Castlevania: colonialism, and power structures that support it

For a Symphony of the Night adaptation the inclusion of symphonic and operatic music was fantastic, especially the attention to the times the music was diegetic vs nondiegetic

Really enjoyed how many outfit changes characters got, I really want some meta about the Emissary's costume changes because she has a wide range of outfits from modern to 2 different historical ones.

Favorite plotline: the whole Orlox/Mizrak relationship and both characters (it probably seems obvious based on what I focused on), least favorite plotline Richter gets his mojo/magic back based on processing grief aka vibes

Felt much more like a coming of age story line for the protagonists, and (without checking a timeline) them a few years younger than the series 1 Trevor/Sypha /Alucard

This show really balanced well the introduction of the cosmic threat (cat goddess filling Dracula’s place) vs local threat (Emissary here vs leader night creature s1 of main show) in a way I haven't seen since s1 of the original show

more liveblog notes below cut

I knew going in Olrox was gay, a fan favorite favorite of blogs I check, and had gifs portraying him sympathetically. Funny how that probably influenced my initial impression of the opening

Lmao of course the abbey is on the evil vampire side considering I saw gifs beforehand of one of the guys with Olrox. (edit: funny that Olrox isn’t with the main vampire group at that time in the season, so I was right about the alliance for the wrong reason) 

I like how the Emissary's clothing is so modern I can't tell if she's wearing hoof heels or has cloven feet

Edouard’s singing sounded super awkward without musical backing, sure the fact its Dido's lament is foreshadowing. 

Edouard has a tailcoat, I didn’t expect to see it during this time period considering this is before the Regency. Olrox is wearing a frock coat, that’s older style?

Oooh wish they had done the fight to Vivaldi’s summer presto instead and made it nondiegetic music vs generic action music

Devil forgemaster automation!? Note to self check when first steam engine is and the Victorian times which is when I usually thing steam/magic punk

Also lmao Olrox gets the last word again

Ok so they have the French aristocrat vampires doubling as confederate vampires with the explicit colonialism slavery

Do we get more evil lesbian vampries with a take over the world plan?

I’m glad night creatures are a thing here too, its such fun monster designs

Real inversion of Castlevania’s Isaac having forge mastering be freedom from slavery and here it be a process used by the institution of the church as a method of slavery

How does “we need a plan” mean “children with no experience of the world and no experience of the hard choices adults make” in Annette’s response and not have a response because the subject changes??? Like Richter has a point about snapshot moral decisions, 2 or 4 doesn’t have experience so they should really work out any difference of opinion

Oh no the last alive mother figure keeps being helpful that’s a death flag 

Damn lol Olrox and abbey sword guy were dtf Grindr quick. Ass shot!! lmao having that final conversation about demons and Olrox is doing it leaning back, legs spread, dick out 

Can’t wait to see how it goes paying that price, what demon and Olrox’s seemingly invested question “will you [pay the price]” edit: season 1 seems to have ended demon consequence free

The world building this season seems so much richer and broader than the previous Castlevania series, all these different types of demons, magic users, gods, and spirits

Nick pick note: ok the waterproofing can’t be good enough for water to not flow down the staircase into the cellars and give away the secret passage. ask me how I know water loves to travel into basements

I'm enjoying the Emissary's ahistorical fashion in modern club/bdsm gear. Holy shit the “all about sex with you priests, every orifice I have has teeth” holy shit vagina dentata. I literally had to rewind to make sure I heard that correctly 

When Maria’s mother was pushing the stone and talking about being there for people she loves I was thinking “wow considering the hair colors for Maria it  would be funny if the Abbot was her father because it would explain why Maria’s mother, a speaker, would be so defensive of him. But surely they won’t be that tropey predictable” then as soon as the eyes met I was like LMAO

Interesting that Olrox chose then to step in vs letting Mizrak fight Belmont, since maybe he’d be better off letting the Emissary get killed

Love vampires talking with vampires about being an immortal being trapped in the shadows as they power play each other 

“You’re the one with the brand on your forehead” this was such a metal af scene burning the slaver vampire in a cage of crosses. Especially the extremely distorted fisheye focus on the symbol that distort’s the vampries face even creepier 

Oh that’s a good shot of Maria being visually isolated in the black of the Abotts’s cloak when she learns he’s her father, with a bit of visual exaggeration.  The selected impressionism animation in this series is great

The Emissary is now in her second period style outfit (red militaryish tailcoat) the first being the black outfit worn for the funeral/graveyard that looked a lot more rococo aristocratic 

Wait wat, so the vampire messiah look like a white woman with red hair wearing double side petticoats in the European aristocrat style, who has a Russian name and was living in snowy Russia, but she’s talking like she is Sekhmet despite having no Egyptian characteristics at all. Like she looks nothing like the Emissary who is Egyptian. What’s up with that?

Grandpa Belmont is somehow beating “I attacked my son and devastated a country Dracula” in worst hurting a family member reaction to grief IMO

Lacrimosa is GOATed really just best choice to include for this moment especially how they did it with nondiegetic string accompaniment in Edouard’s PoV but that cuts out with the shift to Mizrak/Olrox PoV

“I love everything about adding tension to the relationship and denial of feelings with: "is [turning me into a vampire without permission] what you had planned for me" “Of course not… I’m not in love with you”

Fucking gun axe, and did the vampires just sit around listening to the family drama to know so much 

Nooo don’t hang a lampshade on an ending line be “witty, cunning, and brutal” then say “fuck it” which fits the standard 

Power play the Messiah calling Olrox a dragon when he turned into a Quetzalcoatl in ep1, and then doing a show of force to force him from an insincere bow into a deep on. You can tell he’s fucking pissed off

“Just read the fucking book” and Orlox gets the last word again lmao

Lmao the very on the nose bible verse lines “lift up thy feat” when the birds lift Maria up, the line about slipping after she nearly slips. Wonder what was done first; picking the psalm (Psalms 73:2-5) or the animation direction?

So I thought the vampire messiah was supposed to be an a fraud in identity, but damn she can control the moon. Or was Selhmet not a delusion but a actual magic being waiting to possess her and take over, as seen by the physical transformation to part cat?

I guess Orlox does care enough for Mizrak to get involved awww

Ah the establishing shot visible proof of the limit to the eclipse which doesn’t even cover all of France 

Love the angst breakup, Orlox/Mizrak favorite ship in the whole show

It felt obvious the mother figure character wouldn’t last the whole season but I wasn’t expecting her to be turned

Word Effect where The Emissary is built up as a power threat the whole season then she’s 1 hit KO to show Alucard’s power 

[thepastisalreadywritten]

SAINT OF THE DAY (January 12)

On January 12, Roman Catholics remember Saint Marguerite Bourgeoys, who not only founded a religious congregation but was also instrumental in establishing the Canadian city of Montreal.

Marguerite Bourgeoys was born on 17 April 1620, Good Friday, during a period of both colonial expansion and religious strife for Europe.

She was the seventh of thirteen children born into the middle-class household of Abraham Bourgeoys, a candle-maker, and Guillemette Gamier, in the northeastern province of Champagne in France.

By her own account, Marguerite had been “very light-hearted and well-liked by the other girls while growing up."

Her turn toward God's calling began in 1640, not long after her mother's death.

On October 7 of that year, during a procession honoring Our Lady of the Rosary, Marguerite had a mystical experience involving a statue of the Virgin Mary at Notre-Dame Abbey.

“We passed again in front of the portal of Notre-Dame, where there was a stone image above the door,” Marguerite later recounted.

“When I looked up and saw it, I thought it was very beautiful, and at the same time, I found myself so touched and so changed that I no longer knew myself. On my return to the house, everybody noticed the change.”

In later life, Marguerite would live out a profound imitation of the Virgin Mary who was, as she noted, “not cloistered but everywhere preserved an internal solitude” and never refused to be where charity or necessity required help.”

During the 17th century, it was unusual for consecrated women to have an active apostolate outside the cloister as Marguerite would go on to do.

From 1640 to 1652, she belonged to the non-cloistered “external” branch of the Congregation of Notre-Dame at Troyes, consisting of women trained as teachers in association with the order.

She also sought admission to several religious orders, including the Carmelites but was rejected.

Being turned down, the teacher from Troyes was free to volunteer for a 1653 voyage to the Canadian colony of Quebec.

Life in the colony was physically very difficult.

When Marguerite arrived, she found that children were not likely to survive to an age suitable for attending school.

Nevertheless, she began to work with the nurse in charge of Montreal’s hospital and eventually established her first school in a stable in 1658.

She traveled back to France that year and returned to Montreal with three more teachers and an assistant.

Because of their association with the original French Congregation of Notre-Dame, these women were called the the “Daughters of the Congregation.”

They would eventually become a religious order in their own right — the Congregation of Notre-Dame de Montreal, whose sisters sacrificed comfort and security to teach religion and other subjects to the children of the territory, then known as “New France.”

They would live in poverty and travel wherever they were needed, offering education and performing the works of mercy.

The founding of the order involved two further trips to France in 1670 and 1680.

During the first, Marguerite's project received approval under civil law from King Louis XIV.

The church hierarchy, however, showed reluctance toward a women's order with no cloistered nuns.

Their rule of life would not receive final approval until 1698, though the Bishop of Quebec had authorized their work in 1676.

Meanwhile, Marguerite and her companions persisted in their mission of teaching and charity.

This work proved so integral to life in Quebec that Marguerite became known as the “Mother of the Colony.”

Though the teaching sisters often lived in huts and suffered other hardships, the order grew.

They did not dedicate themselves solely to teaching children but also set up schools where they taught new immigrants how to survive in their surroundings.

As the order expanded, Marguerite passed leadership on to one of the sisters.

During the last two years of her life, the foundress – known by then as Sister Marguerite of the Blessed Sacrament – retired to pray in solitude.

On the last day of 1699, after a young member of the community became sick, Sister Marguerite prayed to God to suffer in her place.

The young woman recovered, while the aged foundress suffered for twelve days and died on 12 January 1700.

She was beatified by Pope Pius XII on 12 November 1950.

She was canonized by Pope John Paul II on 31 October 1982, as the first woman saint of the Catholic Church in Canada.

She is the patron saint of poverty, loss of parents, and people rejected by religious orders.

[blorbologist]

maggie! my sister and I are planning a road trip to canada this summer so as a canadian, anything you recommend doing, any absolute must sees?

!!! Oooh, have fun!

I can only really give concrete recommendations for Quebec and southern Ontario, and the later with less than a year of experience - so if you're headed to the prairies or BC I'm not much help.

For Québec:

If you stick to Montreal and the touristy areas, you lively won't need all that much French! Usually people clock that you're a tourist and will switch to English if they can. Less likely the farther you get from Montreal and the Townships.

Goes without saying, try a good poutine (There’s an invisible S in there, we pronounce it more like.. poutsine lmao)! Don't get it from a big chain except maybe Belle Province or Poutineville, the very best I've had have usually been from lil cantines. If they’re not using fresh cheese curds don't trust em.

Also Beaver Tails (a fried pastry brand). Usually have lil kiosks near events and sinfully good. My brother and I go bonkers for them.

In Montreal proper, I'd recommend a walk on Mt.Royal! I forget if the inside skating rink at Atwater is still available this time of year, but might be worth looking into. Vieux Montréal is a nice place to romp around, especially around the canals and the Atwater market. Avoid driving in and around MTL it's a living hell, move around by bus or metro(subway) if you can, you can get day passes easy enough. St.Catherine and Mt.Royal streets usually have fun stores and restaurants to poke around in, and the gay village is great! I'm pretty sure most amusement parks in the USA are bigger than La Ronde, so don't waste your time with it.

Zoo de Granby is one I went to a lot as a child and they do great conservation work and have beautiful exhibits + a fun water park! Bromont is great for winter fun, but wrong time of year, and their water park can be hit or miss.

Both Bromont and Sutton are great for hiking (I have good memories of getting up to a lake on Mt.Sutton just as the mist revealed it, so cool). Apparently so is Owl's Head, but I've only skii'd there. Bromont is expensive and the cops are real sticklers, Sutton is a lot smaller and personally I think more cute and chill.

Lac Brome/Lake Brome is just about the most anglophone place in the province outside of Montreal! You can do a lot of kayaking, boating and even just driving around the lake is nice. It is a tourist town with its businesses catered towards Montrealers weekending there, so everything is closed Mon/Tues but open over weekends. Just a very cute and anglophone town.

Memphremagog / Magog is both an okay town and a really great lake, bigger than Lac Brome if you'd rather get on the water there. Also fun local myths of a lake monster >:3c

If you like murder mysteries, Louise Penny based many locations in her series off of areas in the Townships - such as Brome Lake Books('s old location) and Abbey St.Benoit (which has great cheese). There are maps to help her fans run around and see the locations irl!

Due to the dairy industry there's a lot of great cheese and icecream in general. Coaticook has great icecream and a cool gorge (my ex lived there), but it’s very French so you might have trouble.

A personal highlight: drive up the St.Lawrence. it's gorgeous, sometimes there are whales, and just. Amazingly beautiful. Fuckoff cold water tho.

There are a ton if beautiful national parks in Quebec; Bic is a highlight personally.

For southern Ontario:

Niagara Falls is a mixed bag: the falls themselves are incredible, absolutely awe inspiring (I remember getting to my hotel room after and writing in a frenzy - the MIST from them hits you SEVERAL HUNDRED METERS AWAY). BUT the area around them are a tourist trap, overpriced and iffy.

I haven't run around Toronto much beyond getting lost going to n from the airport, but I've heard decent enough things?

Iirc there might be more Freedom Convoy bullshit going on in Ottawa, so keep an eye on the news if it's on your bucket list.

Also have heard p good things about the national parks, almost went camping with the other grads before schedule conflicts popped up.

Haven't done much due to gradschool unfortunately :c

I also know that Alberta has an incredible dinosaur museum with some amazing specimens, and Dinosaur Provincial Park is teaming with big fossils (almost went on a dig there but Covid happened).

Hope some of this helped!

[constantvigilante]

Watched the 1980s Northanger Abbey because 2007 is (APPARENTLY) no longer on Britbox and: what a strange experience

I have never seen a better illustration of the word "simpering" than Isabella Thorpe

The scene in the baths?! Mixed gender in all wet clothes with their hats and little plates of food?? (It's REAL, I'm SCREAMING)

Dont forget the 80s soundtrack!!

Cathy was so very gawpy in the first half, all eyes and teeth, but I didn't hate it, and kind of liked how she changed by the end

However, did kind of dislike Mr Tilney (though in fairness how does one compare to JJ Feild) He had a stagey quality that I've noticed in a number of Classic Who actors: an odd affectation in the tone, with occasional trills to hammer home how fancy they are.

Robert Hardy (General Tilney) was the only good actor

The 2007 version so clearly took cues from this one with the Gothic fantasy scenes but while 2007 always shot them in a way where they were clearly fantasy, in this there were a couple points I'm genuinely unsure about (the cartwheeling servant boy? The actual ending?) and that's such an interesting choice. I feel like they almost directed Felicity Jones and even cast her to look like the other actress even though they're styled so differently... but their expressions make them look really similar sometimes!

John Thorpe barely existed, as is only right, but they even cut his kinda-proposal, and changing his chat with the General from self-deluded boasting to intentional mischief completely changes his character

Isabella speedrunning friendship with Cathy so we never actually got to know her makes her pretty cut and dry insincere. I like getting to see them bond over books before James pops up

How dare you take away the Tilneys' genuine fortune and make the General a gambler who's going to ruin them all, is being a terrible father not enough

That French Lady

I want to watch 10 review videos starting with a review of the dance scenes

[monsterintheballroom]

Interview, well it´s more like a questionaire under the cut :-)

Dame Penelope Wilton: ‘My worst holiday was in Scotland’

The actress, 76, on tenacity, boarding schools and collecting art for the sake of it

Penelope Wilton is a multi-award-winning actress across stage and screen, who is best known for her role as Isobel Crawley in ITV’s Downton Abbey. Twice divorced, she has a daughter and two grandchildren, and lives in London. 

Best childhood memory?

I was five and my parents were moving house, so I was sent to stay with a great-aunt in Harrogate, as it was too much for my mother to look after me as well as my two-year-old sister Linda and my older sister Rosemary during the move. When it was time for me to go home, I was put on the train with the guard in his van. I then had to change trains at a station where my father was going to meet me. He ran down the platform and picked me up and I had him to myself for the whole journey on the other train. I was in heaven at the thrill of it all, because I adored him. To me, there was nothing more wonderful, as I was selfish about sharing him with my two sisters. 

Best subject at school?

History, which I still like now. I was never very good at school as I was slightly dyslexic, so my written work was frightful, but I really enjoyed history and still love good period biographies. As a little girl, I had gone to an extremely good convent school. But because my mother became ill, I then went to two terrible boarding schools with not very good teachers; anything I’ve learnt, I’ve taught myself. So I’ve always had a slight inferiority complex about my education. However, being an actor is a fascinating education in itself, as you are researching every­thing you do. So it set me on a path to find out about things. 

Best trait?

Tenacity: you have to stick with things, as a career, and life itself, obviously has its ups and downs. I almost gave up acting in my 20s as one theatre director was such a bully. I was so demoralised, because you’re not confident when you’re young – or I certainly wasn’t. I was also diminished by authority at school, but the experiences taught me that you have to fight that tyranny. Bullies like that don’t exist now in my industry; people nowadays wouldn’t put up with it. 

Best possession?

I can’t say my daughter and grandchildren because I don’t possess them, even though they are the most important things in my life. But I have a number of paintings of which I’m fond, particularly one by Winifred Nicholson. It’s a picture of Brittany with two Breton ladies, and a little white and grey house with a sandy track in front. It’s very charming and restful to look at. I collect art for its own sake: when I’ve made a bit of money, I buy a painting rather than anything else. Although I can’t buy any more as I can’t fit them in my house.

Best decision?

Having my daughter, Alice, who was quite a survivor as a baby. I’ve got a very nice son-in-law and two lovely grandchildren. Daniel is 10 and Ella is six; they show no sign of the acting gene, but she’s a good painter and he’s good at writing stories. 

Best film/play?

The best film when I was a child was Jacques Tati’s Monsieur Hulot’s Holiday. The ones I’ve liked best as an adult are by Scorsese and Spielberg. I’ve just watched The Godfather again, such a marvellous film. And anything with the late Lino Ventura in it, the Italian actor who starred in many French films. He was heaven. As for plays, I’m very fond of Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing – I’ve played Beatrice – and also Harold Pinter’s Betrayal, Terence Rattigan’s The Deep Blue Sea and Christopher Hampton’s The Philanthropist.

Best moment?

When I saw my daughter for the first time; she’s a theatre producer now. My first child, a boy, had been stillborn at 29 weeks. And Alice was only 2lb 9oz when she was born at 30 weeks, but she survived and it was wonderful: the best production of all.  

Worst childhood memory?

Being sent away to school when I was eight and then again when I was 11. I told my parents I hated it, but my mother was very ill and couldn’t cope with the three of us girls. I was too cowed by authority at the time; and I could only go home at half term, which was just a long weekend, anyway. You did get letters from your family, though – and eventually I got used to it. But there was never any chance of me sending my daughter to board, though I think Daniel would be happy to do so now, because he’s very sociable. 

Worst habit?

I’m very anxious about timekeeping, so I’m always very early and make a fuss if I think I’m going to be late. It’s because of what I do: as an actor, if you’re late, missing your cue is the worst thing that can happen to you. The play can’t start until you’re all there – you can’t phone in your performance. It’s a nightmare. I even got lost once on the way to the theatre.

Worst subject at school?

I never got the hang of maths: it was because of the teaching, they weren’t very good. It’s a very logical subject, so you mustn’t miss a brick in the building. I would still like to master it one day.

Worst job?

A television drama called The Song of Songs, in 1973: it was about the demimonde in Vienna at the turn of the last ­century. The director was a terrible bully – another one – and a ­horrible man. My drama school, the Drama Centre London, had taught me to stand up for myself and have a voice, but that wasn’t allowed on this set. And the rest of the cast were mostly much older than me. 

Worst holiday?

I went to Scotland as a young teenager with my family because my father loved fishing, but it rained the entire time. We traipsed round historic houses a lot as there was nothing else to do while it rained so incessantly. It wasn’t completely horrible as we were together as a family – and Dad had a lovely time because the weather was good for catching fish. But if you’re an adolescent, castles get a bit boring. 

Worst thing about modern life?

The extremes: no one seems to listen to anybody else. There’s no compromise, even though life is about compromise. Social media is a wonderful thing in some respects, but not when it’s having a malign influence on young people. I’m on WhatsApp for the family, but generally it wastes time when I could be doing something else. As for mobile phones, people are ­better about turning them off in the theatre now, but it used to happen a lot – and it was incredibly offputting when they went off. I would find my voice rising to try to hide the sound.

The absolute worst?

The loss of my elder sister Rosemary 18 months ago from the effects of Covid was the worst, because your sibling is in your life the longest of all your family members. Her death is still very fresh to me, so these are sad times. She was seven years older than me and had started to fall a lot, so she was not in a good state to catch Covid. Although she actually got over the virus, she had to go into hospital because her breathing was not good – and she caught a chest infection there. She was a brilliant woman and a wonderful television producer for the BBC’s Arena arts programmes, such as The RKO Story.

[theoriginalladya]

Hello! Your Caleb Shepard has inspired me to make the last push to get in touch with my Irish heritage, but I don’t know where to start. I definitely want to learn Gaelic.

Hello! Oh, what a lovely compliment and wow, how exciting!!!! Thank you!! I will admit, Caleb has become very dear to my heart and I have used him to learn a lot of things Irish that I never would have otherwise!

I'll be honest up front: I do not know Gaelic myself. That's one of those things on my 'to do' list that I probably should bump up to the top. Most of what I use in my stories come from a lot of searching around the internet. I have some experience learning a foreign language (French) as well as researching documents in others (the joys of being a history major lol) so I understand enough about phrasing and structure once I've found a few examples and can get a feel for it, but I also tend to do an over abundance of research to make sure I get a word or phrase as accurate as possible. I also follow some Irish blogs that help, too.

As for actually learning of the language, I have a couple of friends who have suggested I look into starting with Babbel. (I honestly know nothing about Babbel, but I have seen advertisements for it as well) I'm sure there must be other options out there, but I haven't started checking into them yet.

As for the other aspects of his Irish background - history, folktales, places, etc. - that is something that comes far more naturally to me! I was a history major in college ages ago and eventually ended up getting my MA in Medieval History. One benefit to that was learning how to research and how to discern reliable sources. It's a skill that has come in handy over the years (and as a result, when the research bug hits, I tend to go deeeeeeep into a subject just to satisfy my curiosity! lol).

Now, as for deciding where to make Caleb come from, I won't say I threw a dart at the map to choose (I'm not nearly so good at darts as he is!), but my parents visited Ireland about a decade ago and shared a bunch of photos and stories of their adventure. That fed into my love of geography, all things Celtic and history, and so I sat down at the computer, did a quick, general Google search on Irish history to get me started, and ended up chasing after bits and pieces that caught my interest. My Master's thesis was on the history of an abbey in England (of which I hope to one day publish an original fic with that as a large part of it's story) and in doing my research for that, I occasionally came across references to events in history that tied back to Ireland that piqued my interest as well. It's a research adventure that is still ongoing today - some thirty years after my MA Thesis and three and a half years after creating Caleb, but there's still more to learn about!

But like I said, I honestly cannot say what made me decide to plant Caleb in Shannon. He has the character background of an Earthborn Shepard, so I knew he'd be from a city. The foundation of his character, though, stems from a different game where I play Brigit, his mother, who is most definitely from rural Ireland. He was a natural fit for Mass Effect, and once I plonked him into Shannon, I started to explore the surrounding areas on maps, in folklore, in history, etc. It all kind of snowballed from there. I've scrounged up some 2nd hand travel guides for Ireland at used bookstores, read numerous books of Irish folktales I've collected over the years, and continue to search the Web for new and interesting tidbits to feed my fancy. My latest fixation has been on discovering more of the fae/fairy stories and folklore so I can adapt it to a Mass Effect/Fairy AU idea I have. Now to be fair, some of my fae knowledge is influenced by an RPG game I play as well as the information I've gathered, so please don't take it as 100% accurate, especially once I've added in the Mass Effect side of things!

So, all of my rambling aside - sorry about that, get me going on my characters and you might have to tell me to stop! lol - I would suggest a Google search to get you started or, alternatively, to help you narrow things down a bit to a starting point. Do you have a place you are really interested in? A story or bit of folklore? An ancestor from over there you'd like to learn more about? (trust me, tracing genealogy is just as dangerous for me - still happens to me whenever I pull mine out to update!) Could be something as simple as wondering about the history of Guinness beer or what Irish wool/yarn is native to the country or a W.B. Yeats poem you want to track down the meaning behind.

Come to think of it, a friend did pass along some W.B. Yeats back when I created Caleb. And my mom did give me some 'real Irish wool' yarn when she came back from that trip that I really need to dig out and make something with. Hmm....

(and feel free to drop other asks if you have specific questions! I'm sorry I've rambled on so long, but what a delight to find your comments in my inbox! thank you so much!!!)

[kathrynalicemc]

MIKAEL PROFILE - HPMA

IDENTITY

Name: Mikael Arcano-Thorne

Nicknames: Mik, Micky, Nerd (by Siv affectionately)

Pronouns: He/him

Birth Date: February 24th, 2002

Species: Human

Blood Status: Pureblood

Sexuality: TBD (Bi until proven otherwise)

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Nationality: Norwegian

Residence: Arcano House in Skalafell, Thorne Abbey in Britain, Fossan Cottage in Fossan Dragon Sanctuary

Languages: English, Norwegian (Modern & Old Norse), French, Latin, Greek, Anglo-Saxon/Ancient English, Arabic, Japanese, Ancient Runes, Sign Language (British and French. Thanks Aunty Devon). He slowly gains these during Hogwarts years to adulthood. (Norwegian accent)

APPEARANCE

Faceclaim: Ethan Peck

Height: 5’9”

Physique: Average and fit

Eye Color: Gray

Hair Color: Black

Hair style: Curly and short

Scars: None

Clothing: Flannel, jeans, hiker boots, sweaters and sweater vests, dress pants. He wears glasses by the time he gets to Hogwarts.

Tattoos: None

HOGWARTS

House: Ravenclaw

Wand: Beech, Phoenix Feather, 10 ¾”

“The true match for a beech wand will be, if young, wise beyond his or her years, and of full-grown, rich in understanding and experience. Beech wands perform very weakly for the narrow-minded and intolerant.”

Best Classes: Ancient Runes, History of Magic, Potions

Worst Classes: Divination, Herbology

Misc Magical Abilities: None

Boggart Form: Having everyone speaking to him and not understanding them or being understood back

Amortentia: Parchment, dust, pine trees, petrichor, leather

Patronus: Golden Eagle

Animagus: None

Patronus Memory: Playing annual quidditch tournaments at Yuletide with the whole Arcano Family, including his parents, sisters, and cousins

Dementor worst memory: A nightmare he had as a young child

Mirror of Erised: Being captain of the Quidditch team (teenager)

CAREER

11-18: Hogwarts Student (Prefect & Head Boy)

18-21: University student (Linguistics Major)

21+: Linguist and Translator

RELATIONSHIPS

Parents: Kaari Arcano & Semele Thorne @endlessly-cursed

Sisters: Siv & Lennox Arcano-Thorne

Grandparents: Alatar Arcano & Else Lionette

Grandparents: Anne Crouch & Stefan Thorne

Uncle & Aunt: Annika Arcano & Tyr Fraye

Cousins: Dayamanti, Dafne, and Dielle Arcano

Love Interest: TBD

Best Friends: His sisters and cousins

Friends: River St. James @gaygryffindorgal, Jupiter and Elio Durand @cursed-herbalist, more tbd

PERSONALITY

Child: As a kid, Mikael is pretty carefree and curious about the world. He wanted to join in the annual Yuletide family Quidditch tourney as soon as he could walk and talk. He may fall on the autism scale very slightly. He likes to hang out by himself and focus on his hobbies. He wasn’t super interested in learning combat like the rest of the kids but he still practices with a shortsword to keep in shape for Quidditch. However, he doesn’t like actually fighting someone and prefers peace. He also learns survival skills and tracking from his father and grandfather.

Teenage: He stays the same when a teenager, but even more interested in languages and Quidditch. He plays as a Keeper at Hogwarts and might even become Captain one day. He also becomes Head Boy and Prefect. By the time he finishes Hogwarts, he knows many languages. He doesn’t socialize much so he doesn’t have many friends, but the ones he does have he is loyal to. Mikael is always kind and generous to everyone.

Adulthood: Once he graduates, he attends muggle university (following in his fav cousin Dafne's footsteps) and studies linguistics and history. After that, he will become a Linguist for the Ministry. He might also take jobs on expeditions with various curse breakers or archeologists that hire him.

ATTITUDE

Most at Ease When: Studying languages, playing Quidditch, reading.

Stressed When: Socializing, loud noises, his sisters or cousins being chaotic and getting into trouble

Priorities: Knowledge, languages, family

Strength: Intellect, kind heart, empathetic, athletic, loyal

Weakness: Quiet, loner, can come off as a know it all

FAVORITES

Color: Blue, green, brown

Food: A nice sandwich with meat

Drink: Coffee and Earl Grey tea

Weather: Sunny spring day

Book: Literally any book he can get his hands on. Bonus if it deals with languages or history or both.

Hobbies: Quidditch (Keeper), sparring with a shortsword, reading, chess, hiking/tracking learned from Alatar and Kaari

[thehotelbalmoralgb]

The Balmoral Hotel Torquay has among the most distinctive and unique locations of the numerous hotels and bed and breakfast establishments located in the Torbay area. Positioned in the spectacular and most picturesque conservation area of Meadfoot, you can take in the glorious views of the sea from our extensive sun trapped landscaped gardens or stroll down to relax on the quiet blue flag beach just minutes’ walk away. Benefit from the peacefulness and tranquillity of Torquay’s very best kept secret yet stroll into the town harbour in ten minutes. Visit some of the very best attractions of Torquay such as Kent’s cavern, Torre Abbey and Torquay harbour all well within walking distance. The Balmoral Hotel Torquay is a 25 bedroom family run independent hotel in Torquay and we have been trading as such for over sixty years. We have firmly established our position as one of the top Torquay hotels offering an extensive selection of great value holiday breaks and special offers through the whole season. Many of our holiday packages include dining in our restaurant all included in the cost. We pride ourselves on delivering a fantastic holiday experience with a peaceful and informal ambience. Our leading Chef’s specialise in preparing top quality Italian French English cuisine with a twist that includes fish purchased direct from Brixham fish market. We only use local butchers for all our meats. All our vegetables are freshly prepared and where possible sourced from UK. We currently offer a variety of bedrooms starting from our quality cosy rooms to premium rooms with sea views overlooking our beautiful gardens. We also provide a variety of various breaks and packages all through the season which includes weekend breaks, midweek breaks, Christmas Breaks & New Year Breaks. Please note: We are an adult oriented hotel therefore we don’t accept children 5 or under.

Website: https://www.thehotelbalmoral.co.uk

Address: The Hotel Balmoral, Meadfoot Sea Road, Torquay, Devon, TQ1 2LQ

Phone Number: 01803 293381

Contact Email ID: contact@thehotelbalmoral.co.uk

Business Hours: Monday - Sunday : 08:00 AM - 11:00 PM