#i mean france raised her afterall

[miikoissant]

Is it just me or I don't see this "girl canada"?

Sauce: Hetalia The Beautiful World Extra Disc episode 1 (literally the only episode)

[intercoursefluids]

Marry Me Part 1

Dick cracks the kitchen door open and takes a picture of the scene.

Marinette kneading dough with a focused look on her face, Damian sitting at the counter occasionally looking up at Marinette before continuing to sketch.

Dick turns to the side, noticing Alfred coming his way and scrambles to hide the evidence of his snooping.

Alfred looks at him, raising an eyebrow before walking in the door.

Dick waits around 6 minutes for Alfred to walk out and away before creeping back over to the door.

Soft instrumental music now fills the air, Marinette humming along as Damian watches her with a soft smile.

Marinette's soft humming fills the air accompanied by Damian's pencil strokes.

Dick pulls out his phone taking a small video and posting it to his personal twitter with the caption “It’s so Domestic!” followed with a crying emoji.

Marinette finishes kneading the dough and starts to form them into little rolls, placing them on the pan as she sways to the music.

Jason arrives just as she finishes.

Dick waves like crazy, signaling him to be quiet, and for once Jason listens.

He comes over peeking through the door with Dick before breaking out into a wide grin, pulling his phone out as Marinette places the pan in the oven, turning on the timer before washing her hands of the flour.

They watch as she hums swaying to the music as she dries her hand with a dish towel when the unexpected happens.

Now to understand their shock, you’ll need some background information.

Damian Wayne would rather gouge out his own eyes before dancing with someone.

So imagine their surprise when their little brother stands up and walks over to an oblivious Marinette, humming softly with her.

He taps her on the shoulder to get her attention before bowing at the waist and holding out his hand to her.

“May I have this dance?”

Marinette smiles blindingly bright before placing her hand in his.

He guides her around the room, spinning her periodically with the softest look any of them have ever seen on his face.

He starts to hum louder than before as he spins her before pulling her close again with a hand on her face.

Dick has to put a hand over his mouth and pass his phone to Jason because he's shaking so much. Tears stream freely down his face as he stifles his sobs.

“This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Neither brother even jumps at Selinas sudden voice, instead mutely nodding their agreements.

Dick leans back against his step-mom, sniffling at the display of affection playing out in front of them.

“It’s okay Dick, me and Selina are crying too.”

One look at Jason and Selina confirms that they are both in fact crying as they record. Well in Jason's case his eyes are a little shiny.

The song comes to an end as a timer rings.

They break away and Dick takes back his phone, stopping the video as Marinette checks and something in a pot on the stove.

Dick is about to step away when he notices Selina still filming and Tim walking towards them.

“What are you all doing? And why is Selina recording?”

Thankfully Tim seems to notice the secretive atmosphere and whispers not giving away their position to the two inside the kitchen.

“Your little brother is being sweet and I have a feeling that he’s not done being affectionate yet.”

Tim raises an eyebrow crouching down next to the rest of them and pulls out his phone before pointing it through the gap.

“Blackmail kinda sweet or make me cry kinda sweet?”

He turns back to the rest and sees Dicks face before pulling out a handkerchief that Marinette made him.

“Nevermind.”

They turn back in time to see Marinette finish stirring whatever is in the pot and move it off the heat before turning back to Damian.

Hugging him she rests her head on his chest with a smile as a new song starts up.

“Do you want to dance?”

Marinette looks up at Damian with a confused smile on her face.

“I thought we already did, mon chou?”

Damian chuckles softly tucking some of the hair that fell from her bun behind her ear.

“That we did, Habibiti. But against my better judgment I can’t help but find that dancing with you is one of the finer things in life.”

Marinette smirks at him, her hand coming up to grasp the wrist of the hand still cupping her cheek.

“Well then maybe we shouldn’t dance, afterall too much of something you enjoy can lead to an addiction.”

Damian smiles, swooping down to kiss her softly before pulling away.

“Indulge me just this once?”

Marinette sighs heavily, before speaking.

“Oh alright, but just this once.”

Behind the door there isn’t a dry eye in sight, even Jason shed a tear or two.

They start dancing again but not quite how they were before.

Before they were doing proper ballroom dances, now they just hold each other close and sway. Marinette's arms around his neck and her head resting on his chest, meanwhile Damians arms wrap around her waist, pulling her flush against him with his chin resting on top of her head, both of their eyes closed. The perfect picture of contentment.

Dick snaps a picture before immediately posting it to his twitter with an attempt at a caption that looks more like a keyboard smash since he can’t see very well through his tears.

They sway together for a long while before a second timer sounds.

They break apart, albeit reluctantly, and Marinette pulls the tray from the oven before carrying it over to the counter and switching the now golden brown buns to a cooling rack.

Since she is now facing the door the brothers plus Selina have a perfect view of Damians face from where he stands behind her.

Dick, now coherent enough to take pictures without them being blurry, lets the others film as he takes another picture. Posting it again to his private twitter so the rest of the family can see.

His face is full of pure adoration and love for the girl working in front of him.

“Mon Chou? Can you grab the glaze from the fridge? I need it.”

Damian immediately snaps out of his daze to do as she asks. He places the bowl by her hand before wrapping her up in a hug from behind, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

“I love you, Marinette.”

Dick immediately takes two pictures, one with just the hug and Marinette working and another of her smiling after he says he loves her. And just like the rest, he immediately uploads them.

She smiles, stepping away to untie her apron and walking away. Effectively breaking the hug much to their 4 spectators disappointment.

“I love you too, Damian.”

She walks around the counter to hang up her apron, leaving only a few feet between her and the people who are filming them.

She doesn’t make it.

“I think I want to marry you.”

The 4 sharp inhales go unnoticed by the two teens as Marinette drops her apron, spinning around to face Damian with a bright blush.

“What?”

Marinette's voice is barely a whisper, as Damian rounds the island to come stand next to her, taking her hands and accidentally angling them in the perfect view to show both of their faces to the cameras.

“Let me reword that. Marinette, I know I want to marry you.”

Tears start to form in her eyes as Damian gets down on one knee, pressing a kiss to each of her hands before he starts to speak again.

“Marinette, you are so incredibly phenomenal. Ever since the first day I met you I knew I was doomed to fall for you, I just wasn’t prepared for how hard I would actually fall.”

Dick snaps another picture managing to type out a simple “OMFG” before posting.

“You are the only one I have ever been able to see myself spending the rest of my life with, the only one I have ever wanted to spend the rest of my life with.”

Tears stream down Marinette's face as Damian looks into her eyes.

“I know that you have been hurt by the people you trusted most, you’ve told me how the people who were supposed to stay by your side turned you back on you.”

Damian sighs, turning her hands up and kissing her palms.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I vow from this day forward that in any way I may accidentally hurt you, even when I try my damndest to prevent it, that I will allow it to be done onto myself tenfold. I will stand by your side but I will never force you to remain by mine. When you want to take the lead I will cover your blind spots and protect you from those who try to blindside you. When you can’t think of a plan right away, or are too overwhelmed to take the lead I will stand front and center to cover you till we make it to safety. My sword arm, my strength, and my knowledge are at your disposal. And my heart and love are yours to take.”

Selina reaches over dick to Jason and Tim, putting her hands on their shoulders as they both cry freely.

“I know I’m not the best at expressing or even understanding my emotions.”

Marinette opens her mouth at his self deprecating tone, but Damian rushes to catch her off guard.

“Even so, the one thing I am sure of is that there will never be enough words to tell you just how much I love you. I will happily spend everyday for the rest of my life, trying to show you just how much you mean to me. And even then it won’t be enough.”

Damian pauses giving Marinette time to let out her thoughts before he continues.

“Oh Damian, I-, but what will everyone think? We’re 16! No one even knows I am with you outside of friends and family. What will we do when people call me a gold digger? I- people in France already don’t like me. I don’t want to drag you through the mud with me by agreeing to marry you Damian.”

Marinette winces, slowly pulling her hands away from Damians. He just grips them tighter.

“Marinette.” His serious tone makes everything go quiet, silencing even his brothers and stepmom's soft sobs.

“There are only two things in existence that could stop me from marrying you and one of them is if you say ‘No’. If the people in France believe that they have any say in what you do or don’t do just because they believe the words of a liar over you, it just proves that they are even dumber than I thought. As for our age? We can be engaged for the two years it takes us to turn 18, or if you want, we can wait longer. I don’t mind. And I’m pretty sure that if someone called you a ‘gold digger’ Jason, Dick, and Tim would put a stop to it before word even got to us.”

He gently pulls her hands back again, kissing her palms as she speaks.

“What's the other thing?”

He hums in question, meeting her eyes.

“You said that there were only two things that could stop you from marrying me, one was me saying ‘No’. What’s the other?”

Damian straightens slightly making sure she knows just how serious he is.

“Death.”

It's silent for a minute, no one daring to breathe.

“Yes.”

It's barely a whisper, hardly more than a breath, and yet it holds more worth than anything else in the world.

“Yes I will marry you, Damian.”

Damian immediately jumps up wrapping Marinette in a hug and spinning around with the before dropping to the ground again.

“I can’t believe you said yes.”

Marinette laughs at Damian, happy tears flowing down her face.

“You asked me!”

“I didn’t think that I was lucky enough for you to actually say yes!”

Marinette giggles again pulling Damian into a kiss that he happily returns, at least before he groans loudly and breaks, instead resting his forehead against hers.

“What's wrong?”

Damian sighs his shoulders lumping before answering.

“I have to tell my brothers and Selina by tomorrow. At least Dick and Selina so they can help me-”

He cuts off, paling severely.

“Dicks gonna kill me. I proposed to you without a ring, and he will skin me alive for it.”

Marinette laughs again.

“I’ll ask him to spare you. Besides, he can’t have me as his sister-in-law if he kills my husband.”

Marinette blushes at him as he smiles.

“Tomorrow, I’ll get the ring tomorrow. I don’t think I could wait any longer than that to finally put a ring on your finger.”

They cuddle up together, relishing in each other's presence.

Dick is the first to stand up, followed by Jason, Tim, and then Selina.

They walk down to the cave, all staying silent as their phones save the videos they were lucky enough to take.

Once they make it the tears start up again, full volume wails coming from dick and sniffles from Jason.

“That was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life!”

Dick cries into his stepmother's hair. His brothers following suit.

All of a sudden Dicks phone starts going off like crazy.

He pulls it out annoyed ready to tell whoever is on the other end off for interrupting his cry sesh.

467 notifications and climbing from twitter.

He opens it to the picture he snapped when Damian started swinging Marinette through the air with the caption ‘She said yes! BRB gonna go cry my eyes out’.

He looks at his username with horror, paling considerably as he looks at his family.

“I fucked up.”

[acciomalfoy]

the way the planets align (fred weasley x reader)

A/N; this fic is @fromashescomephoenixes child and i assisted in raising it :) so go check her out rn cos she is wonderful!

summary: y/n grew up alongside her two bestfriends, but life had other plans when y/n moved to france when she was 11. prior to the triwizards tournament, fred and y/n are forced to face the lives they lived, and the radio silence of the past year has an explanation afterall.

word count: a whopping 7.5k

-

It’s funny, really. How quickly life can pick you up, and how quickly life can throw you back down.

 “Faster!” I had screamed as the wind rushed through my hair. I remembered this moment the most. With the wind rushing through my hair and knotting it like nothing else, I felt like I was an eagle all the way up here. My nest? Quite simple really. The boy sitting in front of me. 

 Reality though, was quite different. I was on one of the Weasley’s seven brooms, and Fred was sat in front of me. I hadn’t met many quidditch players, but I already knew that Fred was a damn good one. We had had a plan, you see. Once we arrived at Hogwarts, we were going to become the youngest quidditch players ever. We had it all planned out..  

Fred began his descent to the ground in a swift plunge, and I clutched onto him tightly. If I made it to the ground, I was going to murder the idiot. 

 “Freddie!” I yelled out, and he only laughed.

 “Don’t worry y/n! I’m the best quidditch player of all time,” He yelled back, and I wasn’t quite sure what occurred in that moment, but as soon as Fred slowed down his descent by a fraction, I knew I was in for it. 

 “Sure you are,” I giggled. “Although I’m slightly better,” The wind caught Fred’s response to this, so I never heard it. Looking back, I wonder what he had said. For once, everything seemed perfect. When we reached the ground, I was torn between kissing the ground and wishing I was still flying with Fred.

 “I’ll never get sick of flying like that,” Fred smiled. The summer had made his freckles stand out even more than usual. I grinned back at him as we raced into the burrow.  

 “Darling y/n!” Molly greeted me cheerfully. “I haven’t seen you in ages! It must have been at least two hours,” she teased in a loving tone, and I could only grin back at her.

 “I missed you!” Ginny cheerfully chimed in as she gave me a hug. I waved to her and gave her a hug while Fred and George grabbed a couple of pumpkin pasties out of the cupboard.

 “Good afternoon y/n,” Percy greeted me as he peered over the top of his book. He was wearing strange glasses, which he swore he needed but Fred and George said he simply fancied that they made him look more grown up.

 “Er, hello!” I cheerfully replied. Percy always seemed so much more grown up than Fred and George and I, that I almost felt awkward talking with him.

 “Oh!” I remembered suddenly. “Would it be okay if Fred and George come over to my house for dinner tonight?” I asked Molly. Percy glanced up, but quickly resumed his uninterested reading.

 “Please mum!” Fred and George begged one unison. They liked my house because mum always made dessert. Although George always liked to tease me by saying Fred likes dinner anywhere that I was. I didn’t mind that idea, in fact it only made me blush, but I knew George was joking. Molly nodded her approval and we ran out the door, eager to spend the afternoon in the sun. 

 We began our hike to our absolute favourite picnic tree, where the sun was softly filtering through the leaves of the forest. We were by no means quiet as we joked and laughed our way through the woods.

 Finally we reached our picnic tree. I was the first to shimmy up the ladder. We had found the tree about three years ago, and from then on it became our hideout. The tree had such a huge trunk that even with all three of us we couldn’t get our arms around it! The trunk split into three large branches about eight feet off of the ground, and grew on from there.

 “We’ll have to find a new hideout at Hogwarts,” I sighed, but spoke loudly enough so they could hear me down the ladder.

 “I bet there’s some sort of secret room we could use!” Fred suggested eagerly.

 “Or we could just stinkbomb whatever room we want, and then no one else would want to use it!” George suggested as he popped his head over the top of the ladder.

 “Yeah, but I don’t know if I could even get used to that scent,” I wrinkled my nose in memory of the one we set off last Christmas.

 “Ah true,” Fred sighed. “Bet there’s a charm for that issue though!” We giggled and continued to talk about our plans for Hogwarts. We’d all be going next year, although I was still waiting for my letter since my birthday wasn’t until the next week. 

 -

 Dinner was certainly memorable that night. Fred, George and I walked back with about fifteen minutes to spare. They ran across the lane to get changed in time for dinner. I put on my favourite maroon dress and dashed downstairs just in time to hear the doorbell.

 “Hey guys!” Their marching grind beamed towards me and we sat down to a delicious dinner of homemade pizza. I should have noticed something was up, because we only ever had homemade pizza like that when there was big news. At the tender age of 10, this was the worst news I had ever received.

 “Are you boys excited for Hogwarts?” My mum had asked Fred and George. Of course, this launched us all into our carefully laid out plan. This extended to everything from what house we would be in, to what desserts we would eat on the first night.

 “Well, we have some exciting news,” My dad began. I glanced up, curious if my letter had arrived early or something. Unfortunately I was a bit preoccupied by a bit of cheese that was extra gooey on my pizza.

 “You’ll all get to experience two wizarding schools! In a way at least,” Mum announced this and we all instantly wanted to cheer. Secretly I hoped she would say we were all going on a gap year to Durmstrang. There was something so mysterious about it!

 “We’ve enrolled y/n at Beauxbatons as we’ll be moving there in August!” Dad positively beamed towards us all. Obviously they expected a rush of excitement about this, but what were we meant to say? I stared at my mother.

 “Without Fred and George?” My mom nodded a little sadly to confirm my worst fear.

 “But I’m sure you could all write letters or something!” My dad piped up. I felt like crying, but I couldn’t cry in front of Fred and George. Well, I could. They’d be very supportive, but I didn’t want to show them just how upset I was about it.

 “Excuse me,” I pushed aside my plate and left. I bounded up the stairs to my room, which was decorated with Holyhead Harpies posters. In a matter of moments my world had come crashing down. Beauxbatons was in France for Merlin’s sake! I would be completely and utterly alone. I sighed quietly, and opened up my window, leaning against the window sill. 

 It was quiet for a long time, the only sound I could hear being my own shallow breath as I tried to control my tears. A freckle covered arm nudged mine, and when I looked to my right I saw my best friend.

 “You know that nothing will change, right?” He asked quietly, and I laughed humorlessly.

 “Everything will change, Freddie. I can’t abuse Snape with you guys, or be the youngest chaser on the quidditch team. I want to go to Hogwarts.” I leaned my head on Fred’s shoulder, and he let out a long breath.

 “We can write to each other every week. Yeah, we can do that. Everything will be the same, nothing could tear us apart.” It was quiet again.

 “You promise?” I whispered, and he entwined his pinkie finger with mine.

 “I promise.”

••••

 Fred had fucking lied, I thought bitterly. We were sixteen now, and the letter exchanging had fallen through two years ago. I felt resentment rising in my chest, but I knew it was no one’s fault. It’s just the way that things unfold. Now, as I stood outside the Great Hall I had dreamt of entering my entire life, I had to still my hands as they involuntarily shook. I had nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to even be afraid of really, and yet I couldn’t stop my heart from clouding my judgement as it always had as a child. Maybe there was just something about Fred that made me lose all inhibitions. 

 “Now!” Madame Maxine shrieked, and the doors flew open with a resounding bang. There was a split second where we froze, the eyes of Hogwarts on us. It wasn’t until the older girls flew forward did the rest of us, and without even seeing him I just knew where Fred was sitting.

 Something about a sixth sense, our parents used to say. I was Fred’s twin instead of George, with how finely tuned our minds were. We were always able to sense when something had happened to the other, or pinpoint the exact location of one another despite being apart. 

 I willed myself to look away from the flurry of red robes in the centre table. Knowing my luck, I would see a Weasley with questions written all over their face. It was something I couldn’t handle right now. Something that maybe I would never be able to handle. I curtseyed when I was supposed to, eyeing a yellow-robed boy who winked at me, and we continued marching forward.

 I knew that the house of courage was the next house to be curtseyed to, and I decided that if I had gone to Hogwarts, I definitely wouldn’t have made it into that house. I stared at the ground as I curtseyed and continued forward. During the dance we performed I was looking at the roof or the ground, anywhere but the sea of students in front of us. We hurried to the side, and I made the fatal mistake of looking into the crowd.

 Right into the eyes of a smiling Fred Weasley. 

••••

I sat down angrily at the Ravenclaw table. I’m not sure if anger was the right word for what I was feeling. But really how else am I supposed to describe the heartbreak, the sense of loss, and fear I felt. It was all too much. I simply couldn’t stand being in the same room as him. Especially as it was the hall we had so expertly planned our pranks, and conversations, and lives for. 

 What hurt the most, quite possibly, was knowing that there had never been a relationship to begin with. I wasn’t sure how old I was when I realised Fred was definitely better looking than most, and at some point during our letter exchange I had begun to fall for my friend. 

 “Y/n?” My friend Marie nudged me. “You looked beautiful out there!” She encouraged me eagerly, seeing that I was incredibly quiet.

 “Merci, Marie.” I managed a small smile towards her. “I just feel a bit out of place,” I shrugged. 

 “Well, I’m sure any number of boys here are eager to make sure we feel right at home,” Marie wiggled her eyebrows towards me as I let out a small laugh. I rolled my eyes before picking up a fork. “What about...” Her eyes scanned the room for a minute.

 “That one!” She pointed towards the Gryffindor table. I nearly choked on my piece of potato when I saw that of all the boys in the room, she had picked him...

 Fred Weasley’s eyes burned into mine again. I couldn’t stand it a moment longer and I murmured a quick excuse before rising from the table and leaving the hall hurriedly.

••••

When making the choice of leaving the hall, I had forgotten one thing. I didn’t know my right from left in this fucking castle. Everything was dimly lit, and there were endless corridors and nooks that aided in my getting hopelessly lost. I could vaguely recall the halls from Hogwarts: A History, but that had been six, seven years ago. 

 Eventually, I gave up and collapsed into a secluded corner. All things considered, there could have been a worse spot to allow four years of harsh feelings catch up to me. The starlight dimly illuminated by shaking hands, and bounced off of my silvery blue skirt. It was altogether peaceful, apart from my soft shuddering sobs. 

 “Hey,” a voice suddenly broke the secrecy of my break down.

 “Fred, I don’t want to see you right now.” I groaned. His warm brown eyes and soft freckles were too much. They still made my heart flutter and my head spin. As if I was soaring through the air on my broom again, a little girl having a crush on a little boy.

 “What? Why not?” He asked, flabbergasted. I turned the other way, and began to trace the soft patterns of my wand, as I often did when I was nervous. 

 “We’re not friends anymore. You clearly forgot me.” I accused him. It felt good to finally see him and show him how awful he had been to stop writing.

 “You’re the one who stopped writing to me!” He fired back, and I slowly shook my head. He had ignored my letters for over a year and had the nerve to lie to my face about it. 

 “Go. Away.” I coldly turned, and positively bolted down the hall. The more I thought about it, the more upset I became. Letters had begun growing scarce around our third/fourth year, and it was seemingly reasonless. The trail had truly gone cold at the end of our fourth year, and that was when the real heartbreak had set in. What a time to be alive. 

••••

“George, did you keep writing to y/n?” Fred was sprawled on one of the many lounges in the Gryffindor common room, while George was lying at his feet. 

 “No, we never even started writing to each other,” He shrugged. Y/n and George had never been quite as close, and they naturally fell out of touch when she moved. 

 Fred pulled a crumpled piece of parchment out of his robe pocket, and lovingly smoothed it out.

 “She stopped writing to me in fourth year.” Fred whispered. At this George sat bolt upright. The thought of Fred and Y/n not being best friends was a startling one, one that had never come across his mind. 

 “What do you mean?” George asked, clearly stunned. His twin and y/n had written weekly for as long as he could remember. “Why didn’t you check if it got lost?” Fred shook his head.

 “I did George,” He held up the crumpled paper he was holding. His pained expression was almost too much for the twin to bare. “I wrote four fucking times. This one was going to be my last hope,” He crumpled it back up, and shoved it into a pocket dejectedly. 

 “Oh Fred...” George sighed. “I suppose a prank on Gin is out of the question then?”  

 “I can’t right now.” Fred ribbed his face in his hand. He felt so lost and confused after his encounter with y/n. How could she have thought he would ever want to stop writing to her? Something must have happened to the letters, but he felt like he must be kidding himself if he thought that 5 different letters could get lost. Errol wasn’t that old, was he? 

••••

I dressed quickly in the morning in my pale blue, silky uniform. Although I still sometimes wished that I had gone to Hogwarts, I had to say that the Beauxbatons uniform was much better. As I exited the dormitory I bumped into my friend Maurice who had just exited his dormitory.

 “Salut!” Maurice greeted me cheerfully as we fell into step beside each other. 

 “Quoi de neuf?” I muttered. Though we all mostly spoke English around each other, we also had fun, shorter chats in French. At Beauxbatons they taught most classes in English, except for potions since it was so precise and they couldn’t risk as translational mix up. 

 “You okay y/n?” Maurice asked, pausing and placing a hand on my shoulder. “Aunty Lisa told me to keep an eye on you,” I sighed. Of course, mother would set my cousin on my tail to make sure I didn’t stress. 

 “Never better,” I grinned. “I might, er, run to the bathroom before breakfast,” I turned and threw a wave towards Maurice before I left. I hurried down a random corridor and hoped I’d be able to find a hufflepuff or something to show me to the great hall later.

 For now, I didn’t pay any attention to where I was going as I slowly walked around. I let my eyes drink up the lovely sights of Hogwarts. It was still sinking in that I was finally seeing it, even if I was seeing it under much different circumstances than I had hoped. I ducked away into a corridor as I heard hurried footsteps coming up behind me. Unfortunately I had misjudged, and they were coming towards me, not passing me. 

 “Y/n?” I heard a voice that I vaguely recognised, but couldn’t place. “What are you doing here?” After a moment of thought I finally placed the voice to Percy Weasley. 

 Bloody hell, of the hundreds of student in the castle it seemed I’d only ever meet the Weasleys. 

 “Hello Percy,” I mustered up as much cheerfulness as I could and I tried to walk past him. He grabbed my arm, and I was forced to stop and converse with him.

 “Well!” He smiled broadly, “How have you been?” Clearly he had a much different memory of how close we had been, because he was acting about ten times kinder than I’d expect. 

 “Really well, thank you.” I turned my lips up, hoping to achieve a smile. “Are you hoping to participate in the tournament?” 

 “Oh heavens,” He laughed in a very uptight manner. “No, no. I work for the ministry now.” He said with an air of self importance. 

 “Well, congratulations.” I spoke, with a hint of sarcasm and I made to excuse myself.

 “Would you like me to walk you to breakfast?” I cringed as my escape was foiled. 

 “Er, actually, I was heading to my dorm.” I lied on the spot, cursing the sound of my grumbling tummy. 

 “Oh! Which tower are you in?” I again cursed my poor lie. Thankfully, I was saved (or further doomed) by Fred coming around the corner. 

 “Y/n! Can we please talk?” Fred sprinted towards me and grabbed my hand. I saw some sort of emotion flicker cross Percy’s eyes as I shouted good bye and followed Fred. I laughed once we turned a corner.

 “Thanks Freddie,” I grinned a moment, forgetting I was meant to be angry with him. One more look at his honey brown eyes sent the negative emotions straight into my heart, however. “I’ll be going now,” I began to leave haughtily.

 “No. You won’t.” Fred begged. “Please let me talk to you.” I nearly yielded, but couldn’t stand the idea of my heart broken again with excuses of why my friendship wasn’t worth it. 

 “I can’t talk to you, Fred. Merlin, it hurts for me to even look at you. It’s heartbreak if I’ve ever known it.” I whispered quietly before racing away. Somehow I ended up in the Great Hall, with snot and tears on my face. 

 Before entering, I gently cleaned my face with a charm, and reapplied the natural makeup I had on. Determined to brave the hall before risking running into another Weasley, I calmly walked towards the Ravenclaw table.

 “Oh Marie,” I groaned. It was I could do to keep my composure and not sprawl my head onto the table. Luckily, as my best friend she was able to see this. She patted my back gently, and placed a fresh chocolate croissant on my plate. “Thank you” I smiled. 

 “Of course,” She smiled back towards me. “Did you get lost?” She giggled slightly. 

 “More hopelessly than you could ever know!” To her this would seem like dramatic flair, however I truly felt lost at heart. Unsure how to proceed between Fred’s excuses, Percy’s kindness, and the stress of possibly entering the tournament. I wanted to believe that Fred was telling the truth about the letters, but it didn’t add up.

 The last letter I had sent before Fred stopped writing had been a special one. I had been unable to hold in my feelings towards him any longer. At the end of the letter I had explained that I loved him. Not in the sisterly, or friendly way that I had previously led him to believe. But a real love. 

 Of course he stopped writing. I couldn’t blame him. But I had hoped that he wouldn’t let in stop our friendship. It had hurt. It still hurt, because even though I was young I also knew more than ever that I loved Fred. 

--

“I heard that a ministry official is going to ask you to the ball, y/n.” Marie whispered in that way of hers, and I stared aghast.

“What? Surely that’s illegal.” I whispered back, and Madame Maxine stared at us over the rim of her glasses. I swallowed before picking up my quill.

“Nothing’s illegal for ministry officials, silly. Have you heard of Percy Weasley before?” I froze. Percy fucking Weasley. 

“No, I haven’t. He sounds like a proper nonce.” Marie and I broke into peels of laughter, and another look from Madame silenced us. 

“Will you say yes?” Marie had long mastered the ability to speak with her mouth closed, and had tried in vain to teach me.

“Absolutely not.” I replied, and the sounds we heard for the rest of the lesson were quill scratching parchment and our headmistresses voice. 

-- 

It was on my way to another lunch in the gardens that I was ambushed by arguably my favourite Weasley.

“Hey Georgie.” I couldn’t help the old nickname fall from my lips, and he smiled at me.

“I’ve missed you.” He said, and I smiled sadly.

“I’ve missed you too, silly. I assume you didn’t find me for pleasantries though. You were never the most tactful Weasley, were you?” I laughed at the look of sheer outrage on George’s face, and he eventually chuckled.

“Rumour has it that you stopped talking to my brother a year ago.” He said, and I sighed.

“Fred stopped writing to me after I sent him a letter confessing how I felt about him. Take that as you will, but I took it as a clear rejection.” I took a deep breath, now able to say Fred’s name without falling into pieces. George stopped.

“What? Fred said you stopped talking to him, and I don’t like to think of my brother as a liar.” He said hotly, and I stared at him.

“Am I a liar, Georgie?” 

It was quiet for a long time.

“No, you’re not.” 

-

“Miss L/n!” I should have known that I couldn’t escape Percy Weasley. He was relentless, and I wondered if he knew what the word no meant.

“Hi, Percy. I’m actually on my way to class, I’m afraid.” I tried to end the conversation before it could begin, but no such luck.

“Perfect! I’ve been meaning to walk you to class for a while! Gentlemens chivalry and all.” He looped an arm under mine and I reluctantly started walking.

“Now that I’ve got you here, I wonder how you managed to rank top three in all of your classes. Naturally, I always ranked top five, but that’s mildly less impressive. I think it goes without saying that I topped most of my NEWT’s, but I’m still intrigued on what your methods are. There’s still plenty of learning and memorising that goes on at the Ministry, you see, and I think that you and I would make a great team. Who knows, maybe you can be my assistant when I’m Minister of Magic one day.” I tuned Percy out as quickly as I could. Really, I couldn’t think of anyone who would actually want to listen to Percy for five minutes, let alone the rest of his life. 

I thought wistfully of Fred during the walk to my class, and how much my heart ached at the mention of his name. Maybe I had been harsh on him. Suppose our letters had been lost in the post? It wasn’t unlikely, and it sure would explain why he seemed so confused and upset. 

“Well, this is my stop.” I interrupted him as he droned on and on and on and on and-

“It was a pleasure as always.” Percy picked up my hand and I tried not to gag as he kissed it. Was there anything quite as horrible as this was? I didn’t think so. Oh, maybe your best friend cutting contact with you after you confess your love to him. My life was going spectacularly.  

“See ya.” I darted inside the classroom, spying Maurice and Marie sitting by the door. 

“Hey, y/n.” They chorussed. I noticed with relief that Madame hadn’t arrived yet, and I slid into the seat beside Maurice.

“Salut.” I sat in silence thinking about how weird Percy was, when my breath caught in my throat.

I hadn’t been ranked top three in every class this year, and the last time I had been ranked top three must have been in fourth year. I recalled a quill in my hand as I wrote to Fred excitedly, and the emptiness I had felt upon not receiving a letter. Was it possible? 

I think it was about time I had another chat with George. 

-

“Where are you going George?” Fred glanced up, half interested. His gaze was still fixed on the list of products him and his brother were assembling.

 “Ah, just for a stroll,” George explained as he subtly picked up Fred’s robe instead of his own. The twin hardly nodded, as he became immersed once more in the list of clever tricks and treats they had assembled. George thanked Merlin for his good luck and slipped out the portrait hole.

 Once safely in the corridor, George felt around in the inner pocket to find what he was looking for. Thankfully, it was right where Fred had left it. As always. George pulled out the crumpled parchment, but didn’t dare to open it. It was too personal he had decided. He was simply acting as a messenger, he reminded himself.

 Y/n had invited George to meet her in the library after lunch. Thankfully, after being at the castle for nearly two months at this point, she knew her way around. Now, George thought, all that’s left to do is deliver a letter.

-

“George!” I hissed from a secluded corner of the library. This library was nice, but if I’m being honest I preferred the lighter atmosphere of the library at Beauxbatons.

 “Oh! Hello y/n, fancy seeing you here!” George teased and winked towards me. In return I rolled my eyes, but still had to suppress a giggle at his overused joke. 

 “Look I need to ask-“ I began to feel a little flustered.

 “How did I get my dashing good looks?” He ran a hand through his hair and struck a pose. 

 “No I-“ 

 “Sorry doll, I’m taken. But I have a twin!” George sent finger guns my way, and pretended to swagger away.

 “No! George!” As frustrating as it was, I had missed George’s little jokes. “Did you know Percy had a crush on me?” I questioned firmly. George’s jaw dropped open.

 “I mean-“ He ribbed his neck sheepishly “We used to suspect it in first and second year. But Fred beat him up about it and we thought that was that!” I buried my face in my hands, cringing at the very thought. Merlin’s soggiest sock couldn’t make this any worse. 

 “I think I know what happened,” I sighed. I felt defeated, and mean. I couldn’t believe the things I had said to Fred. How I’d brushed him away. Now the task at hand was talking to that Weasel that had ruined everything. 

 “Well, I don’t know exactly what conclusion you’ve reached,” George gently spoke. “But I think you should read this,” Before he left he pressed the folded, crumpled parchment into her hand. 

-

“George!” Fred sang out as soon as George entered their dorm room. “I have a plan!” He leaped from bed to bed in a happy spirit that often accompanies new hopes.

 “I’m going to ask y/n to the ball!” He exclaimed. George sighed, unsure how his brother thought this would instantly fix things. Luckily for Fred, George had pulled a few extra strings for the odds to be completely in his favour. 

-

“Marie!” I sobbed as she came into the dorm. This was probably not how she expected to find me tonight, and the shock on her face was obvious. 

 I had ripped the covers off of my bed and wrapped them around me like a large cocoon. Then I had promptly laid down and cried for the better part of an hour. At least it was a good test of my makeup setting charm.

 The letter is what did it. Oh! The letter! I cradled it ever closer to my heart as I sobbed again. He had written with all the heartbreak I had felt, with all the love I had felt, with all of the friendship I had felt. And it never got to me! Just as my letter never got to him!

 “He loves me Marie!” I gasped. “He wrote me five letters.” Marie, like the true friend she was, promptly crawled into the cocoon with me and began to rock me softly. 

 “Hush, mon caneton,” she whispered. I steadied my breathing and hugged her tightly. Thank goodness that we had both decided to come on this trip. I don’t know what I would have done without her.

 “I love him too,” I admitted. 

 “Well what are you waiting for?” Marie asked with a knowing look on her face, and I slowly nodded. She was right.

 “Go attack that little weasel.” I laughed in delight, and Marie gave me a soft shove out of our cocoon of blankets.

 “Go!” She repeated, and with another shove I stumbled out of our room. I had no clue where I would find a certain Percy Weasley at this hour, and I didn/t quite know where to begin. Only one person reminded me of Percy, and I figured I may as well head to his room.

 “Professor Snape.” I smiled politely as he opened the door after I knocked, and he merely scowled.

 “Pray tell me what you are doing outside of my classroom.” He sneered, and I stopped smiling.

 “Do you know where I can find-” I was rudely interrupted by none other than the man of the hour.

 “Miss L/n! How I’ve longed to see you!” Percy popped out from being Snape, and I found myself being guided away from the dungeons by the very person I wanted to slap.

 “I’m sure I have longed to see you more.” I said, and he squeezed my shoulder. I almost threw up, right then and there.

 “Why were you looking for me, my dearest?” I was two seconds away from punching the smarmy bastard in the face, and I took a deep breath.

 “I just wanted to let you know that if you ever try to come between Fred and I again, the letters you stole will be the least of your worries. I will ruin you, Weasley, and you better not forget it.” I snarled as I shoved his shoulder before walking off, and the stunned silence fueled my satisfaction.

 It was time to find my Weasley.

 Twenty minutes later and I couldn't find a trace of him. My heart sunk to my stomach. What if my coolness had finally gotten through and he had given up? Was he avoiding me? I slumped into my seat at dinner and leaned my head on Marie's shoulder.

 "I can't find him," I sighed. She reached over and patted my back while she swallowed her bite of quiche.

 "Well, he couldn't have gone too far!" She attempted to cheer me up. Out of habit, my eyes wandered over to the area where Fred and George usually sat. I raised an eyebrow as I found that their spots were empty. Loud footsteps behind me caught my attention and I snapped my head around the other way.

 Thank Merlin, it was George. He was jogging towards me and his robes flapped behind him.

 "Y/n!" He greeted me once he was within earshot. I waved and grabbed another piece of pizza.

 "You play quidditch at Beauxbatons, right?" Marie perked up beside me and grinned before proceeding to sing my praises.

 "She's only the best chaser I've ever seen! You should've seen last sea-" I cut her off, blushing furiously.

 "Yes. I play quidditch." I rolled my eyes.

 "Great, can you help me with something?" George begged. I nodded and followed him out of the room. The sun was just beginning to set, and the air was quite chilly. I wondered what he could possibly need help with at this time. Especially since quidditch had been cancelled this year!

 After we left the hall, and I was extremely puzzled what was happening I began to ask a few quesitons.

 "Do you know where Fred is? I can't find him," I asked George who looked completely bewildered.

 "Fred? No I have no idea!" His voice reached incredibly strange pitches and I realised quite quickly that he was lying.

 "So. What do you need my help with?" I suppressed a grin as I began to see what was happening.

 "Er," There was a pause while George thought of what exactly he had summoned me for. Luckily for him, Ron and Ginny were walking by at that exact moment. "Ron was thinking of trying out for keeper!" He explained desperately.

 Ginny's eyebrows shot up, and she slugged Ron in the arm.

 "Good for you little brother!" Ron's face burned red as they walked away and he began to make excuses.

 "Don't we need Ron for this then?" I grinned at George, and he began to mutter something under his breath.

 The rest of the walk passed relatively quickly as George and I caught up about everything that had happened since I moved. We easily fell into conversation thanks to Fred keeping us both updated on the other. Finally we arrived at the field.

 "Godric! I'm late for something." George looked at his non-existent watch and ran away before I could stop him.

 "What the hell?" I muttered as I began walking back to the exit of the quidditch pitch. Unfortunately, in my angry haze I tripped right over a broom that was lying on the grass. Gingerly, I picked it up, and paused. Why not, I thought, as I mounted the stray broom.

 "Y/n!" From a distance, I thought George had come back. I sped forward slightly, moving the broom precisely and smoothly to greet him. Of course, by 'greet' I meant cast a harmless hair changing charm. Luckily (for his sake,) I quickly noticed it was Fred. Unluckily (for my sake) I was now incredibly flustered and unsure what to say. I chanced a timid wave, and thanked Merlin when he returned it, equally timidly.

 "I'm sorry!" I instantly shouted, speeding down from my perch in the sky. I pulled out of the short dive just a few feet off of the ground.

 "No y/n," Fred shook his head "I'm sorry. I should have known you would never stop writing." He stared at his feet, looking ashamed. "Must've been that goddamn bird," He let out a nervous laugh, but continued to stare at the ground. I didn't want to bring Percy into this yet. He didn't deserve a place in what I hoped would become a treasured memory.

 "It wasn't your fault," My heart was breaking at the pain on his face. But how do you break this sort of news kindly? "I shouldn't have thought you would stop writing either, I just-" I trailed off, unsure what to say.

 "What was in that last letter you sent?" He asked glancing up. I paused, hopping off my broom. Fred followed in his actions, and our eyes finally met.

 "Wait, you never even saw it?" I knew that he'd most likely never seen it, but I had always imagined Percy had let him receive it at least. Little did I know the precision that Percy carried out his plans with.

 He had begun by snatching a letter here and there. Laying the foundation for doubt of each other's consistency of correspondence. He had saved the letters sent by me, burned the ones sent by Fred, and written his own imaginary replies. I had become an obsession for him. So much so that when he saw me this year, he thought we would instantly pick up where we had left off in his imagined reality.

 The day I had sent the letter to Fred. That all important letter. He had taken it and saved it for himself. Looking upon my words of love, and imagining they were from him. The thought of Percy receiving those words instead of Fred brought tears to my eyes.

 "No," He admitted.

 "I wanted to tell you-" I cut myself off. What if all Fred was searching was the friendship we had previously shared? I bit my tongue and held a silent debate until I finally plucked up my courage.

 "I love you," I let the sweet words fly away towards him. I hoped they'd be returned. That their fragile wings would be cradled, rather than crushed. A momentary surprise froze Fred. The stress of the situation made those few seconds feel like hours. Hours of anguish and feeling entirely exposed and unprotected. Finally, Fred sprang in to motion. He rushed towards me, as his lips found mine, my eyes fluttered closed. It was just Fred and I, the aligned planets watching as their plan fell into place. Fred tasted like strawberries and he sucked softly on my lip. I couldn’t help from running my hand through his messy hair, and I felt him grin into the kiss. 

 "Go to the Yule ball with me my darling?" He asked softly as we broke apart.

 "Of course my love," I let my head rest on his strong chest as we let the last flickers of sunset wash over us.

 The ball had approached much quicker than expected. Over the past two weeks, a lot had happened. First, I had explained to Fred what Percy had done. I didn't want to create a rift between the brothers, but it was the only way to fully explain and resolve the situation. Fred had looked very solemn, and confronted Percy who denied everything. Unfortunately for him, he carried around my last letter with him which was quite incriminating when we discovered it.

 Fred and I had hardly spent a moment away from each other.

 I had a periwinkle blue mini dress on, which hugged tightly around me. Over top, I had a sheer silvery blue gown that shimmered like stars as I moved. All of the Beauxbatons girls had picked something of the same color scheme, but this dress felt so me that I didn't mind. After curling my hair into delicate ringlets I helped Marie curl her hair and then we left.

 I took a deep breath as we glided down the stairs after Madam Maxine. I could hardly contain my excitement. My heartbeat felt similar to when I was anticipating a particularly good match of quidditch.

 Fred was standing there looking spectacular in his dress robes. He had charmed his tie to be a periwinkle blue, and he was holding a small bouquet of lavender flowers. The moment I smelled them, I remembered that moment with him on that broom. I remembered the rush of adventure, the hint of recklessness, but most importantly: the trust. I trusted him so much.

 He took my hand, and we silently walked into the ball. It almost felt too perfect. Too cliche, not unique enough for such a special story. Our story that we were writing one page at a time.

 After a few songs spent pleasantly dancing, laughing, and whispering lost words to each other I had an idea.

 "Freddie?" I whispered as I leaned my head onto his chest.

 "Mmm?" He swayed us gently to the sweet music.

 "Can we leave?" I asked. "I want to go on a broom with you again," I explained. His face softened and he took my hand as we walked to the quidditch pitch.

 Here we were. Up in the air again. I spread my arms, testing if my eagle wings were still there. They were. And as an eagle, I had finally reunited with my nest. I brought my wings back down to take hold of the broomstick. This time I was in control, and I'd had a bit more practice than 10 year old Fred had had. So, I sent us into a steep dive, almost until it felt like a free fall.

 After the rush of adrenaline I soared back up until we reached the roof of Gryffindor tower. I couldn't stop myself from imagining how many sleepless nights we could've spent talking here. How many breakfasts, and boring classes I could've spent with him.

 As I saw the moonlight softly reflect off of Fred's pale face I realised then and there. He was my soulmate. He was my perfect match. He was the person that I didn't want to spend a single minute without unless I absolutely had to.

 I told him so too.

 "Freddie," We were holding hands again as we laid on top of a soft blanket he had conjured to lay down on the roof. The incline of it was just barely safe to lay down on without sliding off. I didn't feel scared though, I had Fred to anchor me.

 "You look beautiful in the moonlight y/n," He turned his lively eyes towards me. I blushed and smiled slightly.

 "I love you so much," I began. He kept his eyes trained into mine. Giving me his full attention. "I don't want to lose you again, okay?" I took a somewhat shaky breath. " I just mean, the past couple weeks have felt like a dream.” I said, and Fred held my hand.

 “I know, pretty girl. You won’t lose me again, not if there’s anything I can do about it.” I squeezed his hand back, and we watched the night sky in all its glory.

 I was standing in my dorm room, nearly ready to leave when an owl flew into the window. Plonk, I realised it was poor Errol. It appeared he could hardly handle a flight around Hogwarts anymore. I tucked him into a small blanket and gave him an owl treat. He let out an appreciative coo and snuggled into the cozy nest I'd made. I unrolled the parchment, and twirled the sprig of lavender that had been in the ribbon between my fingers.

 Dearest y/n,

 Today you go back to Beauxbatons. I'm sorry I can't be there in person, but I'm happy to tell you everything is going really well.

 The shop looks amazing, although they can't have it ready for us until some time next year. I figure this will work well anyway since we still have a few more products to perfect. (Thanks for helping us with the antidote for the puking pastilles by the way!!)

 Also, the apartment will be perfect I think. We would be on one of the very top floors, so you might feel a bit at home given your talent for quidditch. It's close to diagon alley, but actually in muggle London, which I thought you might like. I said we'd take it within the next 8 months, since I'll obviously be leaving school before graduation and you'll be graduating in March.

 I hope the carriage ride is fairly nice. I know it won't be perfect since yours truly isn't there (wink wink) but I hope I'll be able to visit soon! I have to go for another surprise I'm working on, but I'll owl soon. I have my eye out for lovesick, letter stealing brothers this time!

 Yours forever and a day,

 Freddie

[iliveinmyblanket]

Chapter one: I introduce you to my hoes

"fuck" I screamed, as I faked an orgasm for an Orangists in Holland. 

My name is Valentine Du Lac and I have the attention span of a goldfish. I’m Queen Anne of Austria, the spanish queen of france’s personal but probably not favourite spy (everybody knows that it was Madame D’Artagnan), quite frankly because I am a right pain in her arse. But I’m still often the one she sends out on a missions - no one’s going to care if a prostitute from the Court of Miracles has gone missing. She’s never said that, but it’s implied with the job.

The Job:  I was here to be the orangist’s lover and listen in on his conversations or force myself to listen in. Believe it or not Traditionalists are the most boring people I've ever met, which is funny because I've had to spend hours listening to Lucy Walters who invented the word ditzy. 

I'm gonna just give you a summary of me and Orange dutchman conversation. I forgot his name so I've just been replying to him as "sir" because quite frankly I don't have the attention span to care about man who assassinated some himbo named Johan DeWitt and his brother something deWitt -forgot his name to. I remember Johan because I like the name Johan, oh it's cornelis - see that's why I didn't remember it -what kind of pretentious name is cornelis? 

Anyway my job here was to get information, there was none, mainly because he already assassinated someone so he could stage a coup.

not really anything important. which really pissed me off, Anne really got freaked out by orange dutchman who were assassinating people and also got tipped off that traditionalists were heading to france.

which is bull. 

which is good because I don't ever have to see Orange Dutchman again.

Orange Dutchman gripped my hair, sniffing my neck and whispered, "will I see you again?"

A gave him a soft but fake smile, "of course sir"

No you won't, if you do, I will give you the deWitt treatment.

I smiled, kissed his cheek, and fucked off.

As you can tell I'm not one for too much detail in regards to things I don't care about.

All I am going to say is this is the story of how I and  two other bosses - Dominique Treville and Marie-Cessette Du Vallon; basically saved europe with our strength, swords, witty banter and aided by two himbos named Xandre and Raoul. 

get ready for adventure because we make it look bitchin'.

While I was heading back home, Dominique Treville - the daughter of the captain of the musketeer was also heading over there very quickly after reading a rather scary letter. whilst Marie-Cessette du Vallon already there she too lived at my home but had returned from a meeting with one member of the royal family. she  was now at the tavern with her fellow musketeers - Raoul de la Fare and Alexandre-Olivier D'artagnan. Marie-Cessette was the first female musketeer and one of the best of them.

now technically the home I am talking about is Paris, but you have to look inside further. not at the shiny places, not at the places that appear lively. I mean the place that looks dark, that looks broken. Look into the place that appears to be to be lifeless, but when you turn off the lights at the places that are seen to outshine everything. The place that is broken lights up like the sun.

The Court of Miracles.

The Court of Miracles is said to be the slums, the dirtiest part of Paris. that's according to the richest of Parisians. the court of miracles is the most interesting place in france, full of people of different races, of different accents, different appearances.  the most welcoming place in europe. though the structures were unstable, the society is most happy, most beautiful. see you were never judged for your job, or who you are, or what you did outside - as long as you didn't bring too much of that inside.

My mother moved from england after the english civil war, I was 16 years old, she was a whore just as I am now - puritan england was no place for a prostitute and her  out-of-wedlock daughter. She died a year later of syphilis, leaving a poor daughter penniless. 

So what does a daughter of a prostitute do, when their mother dies.

Becomes a fucking prostitute.

As opposed to non-fucking prostitutes. Years later a dark haired woman, with a blue dress and a black hooded, guided me to the palace and introduced me to the benevolent queen of france. it was suggested that I become her spy as I had caught the eye of many religious and royal officials. a women can never escape the male gaze, so why not use that to your advantage.

Marie-Cessette, whom was was an adventurous, resourceful girl, with a temper, and the first female musketeer. she was opinionated and did speak up when she didn't  agree with the men in her life. it's surprising neither of us became executed for being witches, men do not like being told what to do even if they are being outrageously pathetic. This night, this less than fine night because the sky was fucking pissing itself, Marie-Cessette was leaving a tavern in the court, she wore a white linen shirt, a blue leather doublet with the musketeers symbol (a crown) and black linen breeches with blue boots, and probably something gay like "I am gay" or "if found please return to Anne-Marie D'Orleans" I wasn't there, I'm under the assumption she was wearing that, that night considering that is the musketeers uniform not the “I am gay” part although they should have that as the uniform. Marie-Cessette had brown curly hair (proper curly, not some movie bullshit curly) that was short and tied in a bun.

Her eyes are dark and watchful. she was leaving to go to her uncle Aramis (not by blood but by heart).

Her father is the Musketeer Porthos du Vallon, who grew up in the court. he joined the musketeers when he 16. that was his only good choice out of the thousand terrible options for those born into destitution. That's where he met Aramis and Athos, the three of them becoming inseparable. that's where he met D'Artagnan -Xan's father, actually no he met D'Artagnan when D'Artagnan decided to stir shit up and duel three musketeers in one day. but that's another story, literally another story, literally in another book.

her mother Puce is known as the queen of the court, that means basically giving those in the court food and shelter, kicking people out that are stirring up trouble.

Puce and Porthos never had a son so even though Marie was to inherit the court of miracles crown, she was trained as a musketeer because Porthos wanted to raise one. did Marie get a choice? no? is she happy beating up misogynists? hella.

This girl that fought better than the manliest of men (although I wouldn't actual call them manly) was heading to her uncle Aramis, why? so he could deliver a love letter to Marie-Cessette's lover - Anne-Marie D'Orleans, the king's cousin.

so yeah isn't that like superillegal? yeah, not the homo part, I mean it is a bit. but like not as vibe checking as bedding the king's cousin when she is female.

guys be fucking whoever they want, but girls ArE ToO FrAgIlE aNd HaVE a ROle.

Meanwhile we go back to Dominique.  now Dominique she has had some pretty fucking horrible news.

Dominique Treville was the brunette usually snarky daughter of Treville, the captain of the musketeers. now nothing is snarky, everything for her is humourless. this morning Dominique had received news that  Treville had been murdered by the musketeer Aramis.

which as you can see is definitely not the case, why the fuck would Aramis the himbo who invented the word "straight ally" kill someone who he sees as a father?

he wouldn't.

But a girl who lived in the country with no knowledge of Aramis doesn't know. you probably shouldn't tell her that when she's a holding a fucking knife.

"put down the knife or you lose your neck"

Dominique turned slightly, noticing the blade that sat on her shoulder and centimetres away from her neck, while Dominique was standing over the Aramis who was sleeping

"he killed my father, so I wouldn't be protecting the murderer" Dominique replied agitated, she was in layman's term is done. with. everyone's. shit.

Marie-cessette - who was the owner of the blade had no Idea Dominique had another knife

Dominique batted the rapier away with said knife and pointed it at Marie.

If you want to understand how much of a boss Marie is, well just understand if she were to ever do a DNA test, it would show she's a hundred percent that bitch.  She grabbed Dominique's knife and punched her in the gut, then kicked her in the shins, Marie-Cessette proceeded to pick up her Rapier, as she did so, Dominique ran at her with her knife.

Aramis shot up from his bed and grabbed his rapier, held it against Dominique's neck and then held her in a choke hold.

"cessy, what in the lord's name is going on?" He grumbled sleepily.

Marie-Cessette shrugged and rolled her eyes as if to say that she did not have time for this shit.

"she says ya killed her pa?" she replied, swinging her sword aimlessly around.

"oh he a criminal? let me guess? " Aramis started and turned Dominique around so he could analyse her. "gang?  organised crime. has to be, you are clearly not parisian. too muscly, not pale enough. if I killed your father, then it was for a good reason"

Dominique scowled, bawling her hands into a fist as her nails dug into her palms. her breath increased in a mix of anger and fear.

"what good reason do you have for killing the captain of the musketeers!" Dominique roared.

The outburst caused a wave of deep silence. Marie's eyes dropped, she dropped her rapier. Aramis let go of Dominique and fell onto his bed.

Marie ran to him, to hold him.

"Treville, he...can't" Aramis cried hyperventilating, "no..he..."

Marie grabbed his face, which was flooding with tears, "don't speak"

Dominique was now fighting a war, either this was rather well planned or Dominique had been tricked. But Dominique was smart, there was no fakery in those tears (it wasn’t a youtube apology video afterall). 

Dominique dropped down, kneeling at the bed looking up at the sobbing man.

"you didn't kill him?"

Aramis shook his head, "he was a father to me, a father to paris."

Dominique banged her fists against the floor, and started to scream.

"who the fuck killed him then!" she yelled and ran out of the housing unit.

Marie started to follow her.

"cessy?" Aramis piped up as she started to exit.

"yeah mon oncle?" She replied solemnly.

"keep her safe, it's the least we can do to honour his memory." He asked her, before lying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling.

"I think she can handle safety on her own." she whispered.

"she can fight I'll admit." Aramis touched an etching on the wall, "but her recklessness will be a burden on her life."

Marie nodded and left the unit. She watched the girl with dusty hair. The daughter of treville was wearing a red corset, a dark, blue dress that fell to her knees, and black knee high boots, she wore a red tricorn hat. Dominique cut angrily up an apple with one of her knives.

"I want to help you!" Marie called.

Dominique rolled her eyes and launched a knife into a pole that was rather close to Marie's head. 

"thank you. " Marie sighed, grumpily. "I said I want to help you, not burden you. so stop being a bitch."

Dominique twiddled the other knife in her hand, "excuse me?"

Marie pulled the knife out of the pole, "you are the one throwing the knife at me. besides my mother, my father, your father helped build this citadel, are you sure you want to honour his memory by throwing blades into its foundations, and insult my family legacy." Marie shouted, despite not caring for family legacy.

"so what do you suppose I do then?" Dominique threw the apple off the balcony. "I'm back to square one."

"not if you let me help you" Marie replied, she flipped the knife and handed it to Dominique, "I'll take you to lieutenant D'artagnan, he can help us."

Dominique let out a deep exhale, and took the knife.

"I didn't get your name" Dominique said.

"Marie-Cessette Du Vallon" Marie held out her hand.

"Dominique Treville." Dominique took it and they shook.

"now let's get you to D'artagnan" Marie said, "oh and pick up that apple, rotten food is how sickness spreads, you heathen."

Dominique was rather sure that was not going to be the last time she was called a heathen.

Now it's for Xan and I's story. We a lot funkier.

[waywardxdreams]

fatherly conversations ;;

Tobias had to admit that he was at least a little nervous to speak with his father, especially since he was still trying to get himself to sober up and he was trying his best not to think about what he and Micha had just done in his room. He rubbed his fingers over his eyes, though he wasn’t really sure that was helping at all. He was even sure what to expect going into this talk. Was he supposed to be apologetic? Or was he supposed to be the one forgiving his father?

He arrived at the door to his father’s study, finding it closed which meant that he probably was in there. He hesitated for a moment before raising his fist and knocking, waiting for an answer. Part of him hoped that his father wasn’t actually in there and he would have an excuse to prolong this.

“Come in,” he heard his father’s voice call from inside and he groaned.

I guess we’re doing this, he thought to himself before opening the door and walking into the study. He closed the door behind him and walked over to his father’s desk.

His father looked up at him, a smile on his face as he motioned for his son to sit down. “Melody must have finally found you. Sorry I sent her to find you, I had to deal with something.”

Tobias’ stomach twisted, realizing then that Melody had most likely gone to look for him and might have even gone to his door before hearing something. If she really had heard anything, he couldn’t trust her not to bring it up with Micha. He figured, though, that it was better if she had only heard something rather than walking in. He wouldn’t have been able to recover from that.

“Yeah, I was finishing up giving Micha the tour,” he replied, figuring that was about as honest as he wanted to be.

His father looked over at him again, finally seeming as though he was really looking at him. He shifted in his seat under his father’s gaze, hoping that he didn’t realize that he was still drunk.

“Looks like you had a lot of fun,” his father said, his brows raised. “But I’m really glad that we could talk now.”

He set his jaw and nodded, leaning back into his chair. This had to be about the way they had left things, and if so, it was bound to dredge up the feelings he had felt when he had initially left. It wasn’t that he thought he would be so upset with his father again, he just didn’t want to be reminded of it.

His father looked like he was waiting for him to say something, but soon he nodded and continued, “That’s fine. I’ll talk.” He paused, looking like he was trying to find the right words to say. “I love you, Toby. And I have always tried to do things for you that I thought were in your best interest, and sometimes I mess up.”

“So trying to force a courtship on me was just a mistake?” Tobias asked, trying not to sound too upset.

His father sighed. “I’m trying to apologize, here. I did make a mistake, and I want you to know that I regret it. Your mother told me it wasn’t a good idea, but I thought maybe you would go along with it. You wouldn’t have had to stay at the palace, you would gain a lot of independence, and it would strengthen our relationship with France. I thought it would be beneficial all around.”

Tobias swallowed down his words, knowing that if he said anything now, it would just be something said out of anger. He really didn’t want this conversation to end like their last one had. It was clear that his father had had his best interest at heart, or what he assumed his best interest was, but he clearly didn’t know him.

“But I see how wrong all of that was,” his father continued, truly looking remorseful. “I hated the way we left things before. I told Micha, I thought I was going to lose you for good. He said there was no way that would happen, but you’re my son and I know you. You’re good at holding a grudge.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, though he didn’t avert his eyes. It was quiet between them for a few moments before he cleared his throat, finally finding his voice. “I couldn’t have left for good,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “I was angry, but I just needed space. You know...I didn’t hate you.”

His father nodded, running a hand through his hair. It was then that Tobias noticed just how much they looked alike. He could see so much of himself in his father, and it was unsettling, but also very familiar.

“And I forgive you,” Tobias continued, uncrossing his arms. “You don’t have to worry about me being mad anymore or wanting to leave for good. I’m really happy right now, and I have someone I love. Taking some space from here really gave me perspective.”

He cleared his throat again, thinking about the first letter he had sent his parents about Micha. “I was really nervous when I sent that letter about Micha being my boyfriend.” He felt his eyes welling up and he looked down at his lap. “I was happy when I got the letter back, but it hurt that it was only from mom. It made me feel like...” He sniffled, rubbing at his eyes as he tried not to cry. “I thought maybe you weren’t wanting to be as supportive as she was. That you didn’t approve, or something.”

He swallowed down his tears, taking a deep breath through his nose. He really didn’t want to cry in front of his father, especially not over something that didn’t really matter anymore. Micha was here and they had spoken and everything seemed to be fine. He approved and there wasn’t anything to worry about.

“Tobias,” his father said, not using his nickname, “I would never have disapproved. I’ve never cared that you like men, whatever you preference is. Did you think that none of us knew?”

He furrowed his brows, looking at his father again. “You knew? How?”

His father chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. “How do you think? Did you really think you were being subtle? I’ve seen you with your friends or at balls... I notice the people you flirt with.”

“Oh my god...” Tobias groaned, pressing his hands to his face. “So all this time? You just knew? Mom knew?” He didn’t even ask about Melody, since he had had confirmation that she knew long ago.

His father nodded. “We weren’t sure when you would say something. But it’s why I figured you might not mind if I set up that courtship. I’ve seen you flirt with plenty of girls before, and I know you’ve had girlfriends...”

“Dad, please,” he groaned again, leaning his head back to look up at the ceiling. “It’s fine. We don’t need to talk about me flirting with people, with girls or boys. Both topics are now very off-limits.”

“Alright, I get it.” His father chuckled, looking like he was debating something. “But is talking about engagements off-limits?”

Tobias looked back at him, raising a brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you probably should have taken off the engagement ring this morning if you were trying to hide it from us,” he said, nodding his head at his son’s left hand.

Tobias made a fist with that hand, as if hiding it now would do anything. “We weren’t trying to hide it necessarily...” he said, his voice trailing off. “We just were going to tell you all tomorrow. We weren’t sure how everyone would react. It only just happened yesterday.”

His father’s brows rose, nodding his head. “I understand. But everyone will be very excited about it.” He smiled, pausing for a moment before continuing, “So he proposed to you?”

“Don’t judge,” he replied with a laugh. “I didn’t know he was going to do it.”

“I’m not judging,” his father said, laughing with him. “I guess you ended up engaged afterall.”

Tobias nodded. “Yes, but on my own terms. I think that’s the important part.”

His father nodded, looking down at his desk before looking back over at his son. “I’m really proud of you. And I never want you to think you can’t come to me with anything. I like being involved in your life, and meeting the people that matter to you. I think Micha is good for you. You seem happier with him around.”

He was glad that it was obvious that he was happier. During the time he and Micha had been together, he had never felt happier. It was like a weight had been lifted when they met and everything he worried about just got further and further away.

“I am a lot happier,” he replied with a nod.

His father smiled and looked at him for a moment before saying anything more, “That’s good.” He sighed. “Well, I think you and Micha missed dinner, which is fine. I can have the cooks set something out for the two of you if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks, dad. I can go see if he’s hungry.” Tobias knew that he was, so he could probably convince Micha to eat with him. He stood up, running his hands over his pants. “I should probably go find him. He said he might look around on his own and I don’t want him getting lost.”

“Go ahead,” his father replied with a nod. “Thank you for talking to me, Toby.”

He smiled over at his dad, feeling like the conversation had gone better than expected. “I’m really happy to be here. Hopefully I won’t have to leave again for too long.” And with that, he gave his father another nod before leaving his study, closing the door behind him and walking down the hall to find his fiance.

[bloodlessbelmounte]

Incoming personal rant after watching a Polish woman talk about the Ukranian Crisis and how its dug up Eastern Europe's generational war trauma, this rant is mostly not related to this subject though:

(It's mainly about my Rroma heritage and my feelings of disconnect)

I always wanted to visit Eastern Europe, back when I was 12 I always wanted to visit. Partly because of a young hyperfixation on Vlad Dracula Tepes, and also cause I know as Rroma my family has passed through at some point in our history (afterall can't get from Indo-Arya to England without travelling through), especially when according to a DNA test I am Europe rolled into one. As far as I'm aware my great-great grandparents came to England from Eastern Europe. I mean shit like the Syrians and now Ukranians, Rroma people started as refugees fleeing war who could not find a new home to settle in. After a thousand years and we still have communities who cannot settle down and call a place home without being ran out by the local populace *cough cough* france and england *cough cough* And maybe I've wanted to visit because of the disconnect I feel with my ethinicity, I didn't even know I was Rroma until my mum was filling out my secondary school entry forms. Maybe she kept it from me because my father was a very obvious racist, or maybe it was because the kids in my village kept talking about the 'pikeys' who would camp in a public field and 'steal' their toys.

I was raised very White British, to the extent I question myself. 'Can I call myself Rroma even though I don't know the culture? Is having a Rroma great-grandmother enough?' I remember questioning if I should put that as my ethnicity when I was starting uni. Didn't help when my older brother's wife (whois a very English white middle class person) said to me that I shouldn't cause my family 'aren't real Gypsies' because we don't 'live in caravans and travel' in her words. As I've grown older my feelings of disconnect have frustrated me but I don't know where to start to patch this up. Do I start with learning a Romani dialect? Folklore? Maybe ask my nan about my great-grandmother because it seems our connection to our heritage died with her?

[rwby-fan-theories]

jaunes great grand father was the king of vale who is also ozpins predeccessor

look the king of vales sword is colored yellow ( note this is the first time in world of remnant where a characters weapon isnt the same color as their sihlouette the king right down to the scepter is the same color ( green) only the sword and scepter are different colors   and jaunes sword is named crocea mors which means yellow death ( which was the name of julius ceasers ( emperor of rome) sword which was said to have slain anyone it damaged/hurt( and it was said to shone brightly in the sun) ( and it was taken  so its a fitting name since  the king of vale wielded it in order to take out many foes in the battle and its shaped like crocea mors ( and it fits for the king of vale  to have a sword that was named after a sword  wielded by an emperor ( julius ceaser)  and a prince (nennius  for crocea mors had gotten stuck in his shield which he then used in battle  ) in real life the sword was used by royalty so it would fit for jaunes great great grandfather to have been  royalty  ( so its possible that the shield that turns into a sheath was made for the sword later  on or if they had changing weapons back then the king had kept the shield in sheath form ) ( heck given that jaune modified crocea mors with pyrrhas metal a previous user could have modified crocea mors to become a 2 sided blade

so jaunes sword was his great  great grandfathers sword and the shield that turns into a shieth  ( which fits as  a reference to how crocea mors got stuck in nennius shield) was made after the great war

http://sensicalabsurdities.tumblr.com/post/152741324441/guys-guys-so-you-know-how-jaune-is-staring-at

“

Guys. GUYS.

So you know how Jaune is staring at this statue in the volume 1 opening credits?

Right? Okay? And how volume 1 is when Jaune is going through this huge confidence crisis because he comes from this family of warriors that goes back for fucking ever and he doesn’t know if he can measure up?

And also how his sword, Crocea Mors, is a family heirloom?

Well, guys. GUYS.

The hunter in the statue is carrying Crocea Mors.

….

Guys, I’m pretty damn sure that the hunter being depicted in the statue is an ancestor of Jaune’s – obviously a highly famous and successful warrior who was such a great hero that he was chosen to be the immortal face of one of the prestigious Hunting academies. The kind of person who was a leader, an inspiration, a savior.

God, no wonder Jaune’s looking at it like this:

“How the hell am I supposed to measure up to that?”

EDIT: Elaboration

We know that:

a) The Hunting Academies came about after the end of the Great War

b) Jaune’s great-great-grandfather fought with Crocea Mors in the Great War

So I think that’s Jaune’s great-great-grandfather.

EDIT AGAIN:

@nikosarc suggested that maybe Jaune’s great-great-grandfather was the founder of Beacon and I AM ONE HUNDRED PERCENT HERE FOR THAT.)”

“

and the king of vale was the one who built all the hunting academies so it makes sense for them to make a statue of kingof vale in front of beacons academy which is in vale now plus ozpin represented the king piece so it makes sense for his predeccessor to have been an actual king . about the kingof vale being ozpins predecessor ozpin had went  " of course you remember how mistral headmaster’s room looks like , I buuilt it “ . to oscar and the king of vale was the one who founded  the academies so it makes since that the king of vale was ozpins predeccessor afterall and that would mean the king of vales soul merged with ozpins soul so that ozpin would have memories of king of vale ( ozpin would be a man with a merged conscience ( remember when ruby pointed out that it was like ozpin  wasnt even there after yang pointed out that he looked off  I mean qrow said it himself that ozpins predecessor founded the academies

http://roosterteeth.com/episode/rwby-season-1-episode-3

 and the  conscience of king of vale wouldnt dissappear  and would be passed on and ozpin would still  retain the memories which is why ozpin would refer to himself as helping  build the   and would see himself and the king of vale as one and the same due to the merging of souls

plus the king of vale was shown with ozpins cane

and some might like  question  and say ozpin was the kingof vale himself   well I have to point out that ozpin and the king of vale have very different body types so i dont believe that ozpin was the king of vale

  Jehanne" (medieval spelling for “Jeanne” - “Joan”) Joan of Arc dictated her letters. Three of the surviving ones are signed. Joan of Arc did not come from a place called Arc, but was born and raised in the village of Domrémy in what was then the northeastern frontier of the Kingdom of France.[1] In the English language her first name has been repeated as Joan since the fifteenth century because that was the only English equivalent for the feminine form of John during her lifetime. Her surviving signatures are all spelled Jehanne without surname. In French her name is today always rendered as Jeanne d'Arc, reflecting the modern spelling of her first name. The surname of Arc is a translation of d'Arc, which itself is a nineteenth-century French approximation of her father’s name. Apostrophes were never used in fifteenth-century French surnames, which sometimes leads to confusion between place names and other names that begin with the letter D. Based on Latin records, which do reflect a difference, her father’s name was more likelyDarc. " so given that jaune arc already referenced jaunes inspiration joan of arc as she is comonly reffered to with jaunes last name (and lets be honest jaune darc would have fit the color rule darc would sound like dark etc and would sound like dark yellow they could very well reference it by having the ar. Family’s surname going from darc to arc or having his great grandfather’s name actually be darc but having the name changed to arc or having the jaunes father surname be darc but have his kids take jaunes mothers surname which is arc. Etc basically the kings child surname changing to arc through either marriage or etc heck the king could have changed his name after retiring

plus  joan of arc jaunes inspiration was known for having visions/ hearing the voices of dead saints and ozpins cycle of Resurrection involves him merging souls with someone and it allows the previous one  to talk to them next one in their mind and guide them like with ozpin and oscar (who coincidentally was a farm while joan of arc was a farmer) so they would actually hear the voices of dead people so it would fit for jaunes ancestor to be one of ozpins past lives since they would go through the experience of hearing the voices of dead people which is what joan of arc is said to have gone through and the arc family symbol is the rainbow 

the symbol on his great great grandfathers weapon is a rainbow

https://www.reddit.com/r/RWBY/comments/1r7h2i/jaune_symbol_a_rainbow/

Monty, Kerry, and Miles said that Jaune’s symbol is not two moons but actually a rainbow

and the wizard of oz has a song called somewhere over the rainbow  and has rainbow symbolism

[atypical60]

BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND. MANY HAVE WONDERED.  MANY HAVE ASKED.

HERE YOU GO!

A couple of readers are curious as to how Bonaparte and I came to be a couple and I thought it would make for a fun post so here goes! I hope you enjoy….

Joséphine de Beauharnais and Napoleon Bonaparte

Seriously Josephine. Get outta my way. The Frenchman is mine!

The story of little loud-mouthed girl from New York and baguette loving little French Parisian boy….

My divorce wreaked some havoc—especially havoc in the form of a horrific financial downfall.   My oldest son was away in Austin at University of Texas. My middle son, my daughter and I were now housed in a small apartment. I may have lost our home, but at least there was a roof overhead.

It wasn’t easy. The water and electricity were constantly being shut off—so much so that the staff at Trenton Water Authority knew me by my first name. But—they were always pleasant and I always managed to scrape up enough cash to have the water put back on. Ditto the electricity.

I’ll skip some other bad stuff that I don’t want to get into. But—after a while, it was time to get back on the social train. I was signed up for a “trial” of 30 days on “Match.com”. I had two meetings over coffee, but just figured I was better off alone. Anyway, a couple of days before my “trial” ended, I figured I would peruse through the pickin’s.

Yes. We met on Match.com!

I stopped at a picture of a man in a light blue crew-neck sweater. I could tell it was wool and not polyester—that grabbed my shallow attention. Then I noticed this gentleman’s eyes were as blue as the color of the sweater. This gentleman appeared to be very distinguished. Something I was not. In fact I was sitting at the computer in granny pants and an old, holey T-Shirt.

I then went on to read his profile. He liked art (check); New York City (check, check, check); fine food (sorta check—I was cooking for teens but I love me a great and fancy meal!) and tennis (uncheck). OK –so three out of four wasn’t bad.

I love art..especially Renoir, so it was a good thing Bonaparte had a good appreciation–I mean, he’s French afterall…..

Given the fact he loved my home town, was also a plus!

Then I noticed where he was born and raised. Paris, France.

I had heard that Parisians were the rather “difficult” of all the Frenchmen–and women!

Oh.

Now, you need to understand something—I fed into that whole “Oh-the-French-hate-Americans” thing. Yes. After 9/11 I had a propensity to refer to “French Fries” as “Freedom” fries.

Yup! I don’t necessarily like fried potatoes, but I did refer to them as “freedom” fries. These days I just call them “Frites”!

I learned every single stereotypical image about the French from cartoons and TV shows.

Yes. My educational on French stereotypes were from “great” sources…

…although sometimes Pepe Le Pew is easier to understand.

However, something inside me, perhaps it was the contrarian or the curiosity, made me write a little blurb to him. It went something like this:

“So, you like art. Impressionism? It’s my fave. I love Renoir. You like NYC? I lived there for many years!” “You got an accent?” (THAT was a dopey question)

He wrote back. We spent a bit of time writing back and forth. I finally wrote to him that my “trial” was about to expire and I gave him my email address and told him to just shoot me an email.

We emailed back and forth and he asked me for my phone number. I gave it to him. He called. He had a very heavy accent that was somewhat hard to understand. But, we kept talking.

He asked me out—that last weekend of November 2004. Actually, Thanksgiving weekend. I explained to him that I could not make it because my daughter had a regional Irish Dance competition in Philadelphia and would be busy from Thanksgiving evening through that Sunday. (Yay! Party time at the Mid-Atlantic Regional Oireachtas!) Anyone involved in Irish Dance is fully-aware that you never make plans that conflict with those Thanksgiving weekend regionals!

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Irish Dance competitions, especially the Oireachtas, takes top priority. Over EVERYTHING!!! (spoken like a true dance mom)!

He asked if I wanted to meet him the following Friday. Friday, December 3rd, 2004. I nervously agreed. It was just easier talking on the phone and emailing than having to get all dressed up, and trying to look “pretty” and worrying how I looked, and did I look too fat…yada yada yada.

We both wanted to keep things casual so we met on somewhat safe and common ground. We met at The Marketplace in Princeton. The Marketplace was a smaller mall, and in that mall were many stores I frequented! (I spent many a rainy summer day there when the kids were young). In addition, I felt comfortable there. I figured if things turned sour, I could always use some retail therapy—and spend money I didn’t have.

I spent a lot of time, and money I didn’t have at this Princeton Mall. It was a safe place for our first meeting!

It was easy to spot Monsieur Bonaparte because, luckily, he looked just like his photo. In fact, he looked very nice. Until I noticed what he was wearing on his feet. A FRENCHMAN wearing TENNIS SHOES???? Yes! I was shocked. As much as I fed into the “anti-French” propaganda, the one thing I did have in common with the French was the disgust of white tennis shoes and/or sneakers. In my most humble opinion, tennis shoes belong on the tennis court and only on the tennis court.   The sneaker thing—only a few types of sneakers get my stamp of approval. Chuck Taylors and old-school Keds. End of story.

Was Bonaparte REALLY French–or was he faux-French. What self-respecting Frenchman would wear these on a DATE????

I become physically upset when I see tourists wearing white tennis shoes/sneakers, heavy ankle sport socks and ill-fitting shorts with t-shirts—especially when I see this kind of attire in a large city. It was bad enough for me to be seen off the courts with someone wearing these hideous shoes!

Those tennis shoes had my red flag at half-mast.

My red flag was at half-mast. Uh Oh!

As Bonaparte was not familiar with the Princeton area, so we took my car and we drove down Route 1 just a bit to grab a bite to eat at The Princetonian Diner.

Best diner in the Princeton area! The burgers and “freedom” fries are delicious!

Bonaparte had his red flag at half-mast upon entering my car—which, by the way he later deemed as the messiest car he had ever been in. I don’t even it being a mess except for a few pieces of sports equipment that belonged to the kids. The car wasn’t that bad. I mean really; he actually thinks he saw papers strewn on the floor!

My oh my. Bonaparte had HIS red flag at half mast after seeing the inside of my little green Cavalier.  Now we were even!

Wait. It gets better. After having a quick bite at the diner, Bonaparte asked me if I wanted to drive across the road to check out furniture at Ethan Allen and Domain. (I thought he was moving a bit fast!). It turned out his daughter was moving into a new place and he wanted to check out furniture for her.

Imagine that! This helicopter mom met her helicopter dad!

Get rid of those red flags. Helicopter Mom has met her true match..

The French version of the Helicopter Dad!!!!

We actually had a pretty good time checking out all that furniture—it seemed that we both had pretty much similar tastes!

Surprisingly, all the sofas and loveseats in our home are white and slipcovered! Who knew?

A stop at Starbucks ended our first “date” *giggle* *giggle*

A delightful end to our first date was a stop at Starbucks!

We have been together since that first date–but there’s more so read on…

Shortly thereafter, Bonaparte administered a “test”, unbeknownst to me. The test was disguised as a movie and dinner date. He was to cook dinner for me after seeing a “surprise” movie.

When I arrived at Bonaparte’s home, he was ready to leave. (*NOTE: Bonaparte is ALWAYS on time. Worse yet, he’s early. I am always late with the exception of doctor’s appointments, air and train travel. That’s it.) I think I may have been a couple of minutes late because he was not smiling. Oh wait. He’s French!

To lighten things up, I asked him “Why do you always wear those white tennis shoes? You’re supposed to be French! I thought the French had better taste in footwear?” “They really are not attractive!” (He didn’t realize I had a “thing” about footwear).

Embarrassed, he took the fugly tennis shoes off and changed into the classy, chic, European loafers, that he should have been wearing in the first place.

He also explained “Ah em so embarrahrrrazzz.” “Ah soughs zhat Americanzzz loved zuh tennis shuz.” “Ah em zoo ‘eppy ow don’ lek zhem.” “Ow ahr lek zuh Fra’shhh. Ow spek ur meen”.

(Translation: “I thought that Americans loved the tennis shoes. I am so happy you don’t like them. You are like the French. You speak your mind.”)

Score one for me!

While on the way to see the movie, he wouldn’t budge when I asked him whatmovie we were seeing. Instead, I hounded him about dinner. He was making roast chicken, French style. He then started talking about the various courses. He explained that we were having , in his words

“Pate and Cornish hen to start” He explained in his heavy accent.

I asked him why we were having Cornish hen before having chicken.

He knew I love a good meal, but Cornish Hen as a starter?  Whoa–I’m not that much of a little piggy!

He was becoming frustrated “Cornish hen..wizz mutar!!!”

Sensing his frustration, I started to laugh and asked why he was getting so upset.

Bonaparte: “Ow no zouz gren zings zhewish pip-ul et?” From zuh bar’rel?”

(Translation: “You know those green things jewish people eat? From the barrel?”)

Me:               “Yeah. You mean pickles??”

Bonaparte: “Oui.” Cornish hen ahr leedul peekuhls”.

Thus, I found out what “cornichon” were! Years later, I still cannot understand everything he says!

This is what the “Cornish hen” was! Oops!

The movie turned out to be “A Very Long Engagement”. A World War I epic of love and the search for a loved one. It starred Audrey Tatou and Gaspar Uliel as the doomed but engaged lovers, Mathilde and Manech. I loved this film. In fact, to this day it remains one of my faves!

I outsmarted Bonaparte! He had no idea I was a fan of French cinema!

This film turned out to be the “test”. Apparently, Bonaparte was unsure of a long-term relationship if I didn’t like French film. What he didn’t realize that I had been a fan of French cinema since my early twenties. Living in Manhattan gave me the opportunity to enjoy many French films. I was especially fond of Francois Truffaut, Louis Malle, Jean Renoir and Eric Rohmer. (Also..Bonaparte’s uncle, Yves Robert! Bonus!!!)

After expressing my disgust at this ridiculous test, I scored another one for me!

I guess the French are just more pragmatic in their relationship thinking! They judge compatibility  by film and food!

We’ve had ups and downs, but mostly ups.  We have fun and enjoy each other and balance each other very well. It’s nice!

I even introduced Bonaparte to selfies!

Bonaparte wasn’t used to divey bars in NYC until he met me! Here we are waiting for my son Roman’s band “Bad Man Yells” to begin playing. My oldest son Jake is with us. This is from 2010!

In Long Island. November 2011 at a family wedding (my side)!

So that’s it. Here’s a link to an article I wrote in “FrenchEntree” about my first attempt at making a nice French dinner for Bonaparte. It started out as a complete disaster but it really is a fun read:

My Dinner for Bonaparte

To keep you in the mood..Le Temps De L’Amour from Francois Hardy! Oh lala! XOXOXOXO

Move Over Josephine! Bonaparte is Mine!!! (The Story of how a New York Girl and Parisian Man Met) BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND. MANY HAVE WONDERED.  MANY HAVE ASKED. HERE YOU GO! A couple of readers are curious as to how Bonaparte and I came to be a couple and I thought it would make for a fun post so here goes!