#to the grand rooms of Downton

[mizutoyama]

[belle-keys]

Saltburn: The Reign of British Bourgeois (Meta)

I recently had an interesting conversation with a close friend of mine who said, "I don't think Saltburn is really about class." She said she thought it was mainly about obsession, in the most individualist and interpersonal way possible. I naturally disagreed, and we argued about it for an hour. But I think the reason she didn't think it was really about class was because the film had a categorically anti-Marxist conclusion. That is, a very British conclusion. In many ways, Saltburn is a Thatcherite's wet dream. Let's discuss.

Saltburn isn’t an “Eat The Rich” narrative. It’s an “Absorb The Rich” narrative. I disagree that Saltburn is merely about an individual’s obsession with a particular guy or family. Saltburn is about the bourgeoisie’s obsession with the old English aristocracy.

Let’s establish the establishment: the modern English aristocracy whose family seats litter the shires. Saltburn aims to satirize the English Country House family drama, and then some. This is made evident when Felix informs Ollie that, whoa, the Evelyn Waugh himself based Brideshead Revisited and other works on Saltburn, on Felix’s family. The film, in my opinion, was kinda ballsy to go there and to do it so bluntly. So yeah, Saltburn wants to poke fun at the long-established English tradition of aristocratic family dramas such as Downton Abbey, Brideshead Revisited, Bridgerton, Poldark, Rebecca, etc. It’s no coincidence that the movie begins with an egregiously stereotypical sketch of Ollie struggling to fit in at Oxford, à la Charles Ryder. Felix Catton is Sebastian Flyte, and then some. And Ollie is obsessed with him, because look at him. Except… I believe Ollie’s obsession with Felix is less of an interpersonal homoerotic deranged clusterfuck than it is the bourgeois boy’s perennial fixation with the unreachable closed-door English aristocracy, the national pinnacle of inherited class and status in a nation founded on inherited class and status.

Saltburn, butler and all, is a perfect symbol of English aristocratic privilege (seconded by none other than Oxford, but the film didn’t care to explore the hierarchies present in British education and instead chose to focus on family in lieu of academia). Saltburn is grand, medieval, kitchy, isolated in the middle of whereverthefuckshire. One would think that Ollie was intending to infiltrate Saltburn to possess Felix, but I rather think he was intending to infiltrate Felix in order to possess Saltburn. To possess Saltburn is to possess the rank and place of the Catton’s in the world, to be the world. And Ollie doesn’t want to destroy the Cattons nearly as much as he wants to embody them.

I suppose Ollie’s need to absorb, to consume, to possess and to incarnate is obvious through his actions—drinking Felix’s semen in the bathtub, the period blood bit, the grave-fucking debacle. He worms his way through every aspect of the family members’ lives with the intent to become them, to suck them dry (see: “I’m a vampire”, how gothic). By the end when the Cattons are all dead, Ollie celebrates the privilege he has grasped, and in turn, the film applauds his feat rather than condemns him. Saltburn is a film that congratulates Ollie’s usurping of wealth and privilege, rooting for him from beginning to end. And the film never tries to interrogate itself and ask why Ollie is our hero. Ollie, who does not want to break the wheel as much as he wants to be in the room where it happens, even if that means destroying everyone else in his path. Ollie’s obsession, generally speaking, arises from the desire for status and rank rather than an inoccuous maniacal insanity. This is symbolized by his possession and control of Saltburn. If Saltburn were a gothic ghost story, then Ollie is our specter. And Saltburn is definitely rooting for the specter, full stop.

Britain is a nation of ranks and hierarchies, naturally averse to watering down pristine intergenerational blue blood with filthy postmodern capitalist dollars. “Stay in your place”, that is the Tory way. Even in a “modern, democratic” nation nonetheless governed by an antiquated Tory hegemony and quite opposed to both radicalism and revolution. Ollie, however, wants to be in the room where it happens in a world where only those who are born in that room ever get to enter it. It is why he faces this overwhelming yearning for Felix’s world and Saltburn’s beauty – it is, by default, off-limits to him no matter how hard he tries to reach it. In my opinion, Ollie’s fascination with Saltburn isn’t due to a homoerotic fixation on Felix. It’s due to an outsider’s bourgeois fixation on the romantic world of inherited English rank, status, and wealth. The romance of Saltburn, our need to romanticize the privileged upper class, is evident in the stunning cinematography and costuming. Farleigh is the first person in the family to notice Ollie’s insecurities and see it for what it is – he’s begging to be let in. Farleigh likewise takes the opportunity to constantly, antagonistically remind Ollie that Saltburn isn’t his world, that he will never fit in and will never be accepted as one of them: the tux will never perfectly fit. It is the tragedy of the almost-theres. So Ollie decides to just get rid of everyone in his way and prance about naked since the tux refuses to bloody fit.

It’s just so English, culturally speaking. To claw your way to the top to sit with the big boys rather than to criticize the system that bred the arduous, back-breaking, fatal climb in the first place. This is Tory meritocracy, founded on decades of policies to reduce taxes on properties such as Saltburn in Britain, to keep old peers in the Lords. Felix Catton is Sebastian Flyte is Margaret Thatcher. Thatcher who, despite brandishing her “common” background as a selling point during her political career, painstakingly perfected the Received Pronunciation of her Eton parliamentary peers and successfully died with the coveted title of Baroness added to her name. Thatcher, an Oxford scholarship kid like Ollie, who wormed her way into a title and country house and was yet forever plagued by her average, middle-class upbringing.

Ollie is obsessed with much more than a mere man. If Saltburn were a Marxist class story, truly dedicated to class critcism or subverting the English Country House drama, Ollie would have burned the whole damn place down. But Saltburn is rather a Tory class story about the insane lengths the British bouregoisie, obsessed with ascending class hierarchies and disillusioned by the lies of meritocracy, will go to possess the near-unpossessable ranks at the peak of English-textured privilege. The film is a performance in English upper-class tomfoolery and a celebration of its infiltration by the almost-theres.

And yet, the cycle perpetuates itself. Saltburn is ruled by a new lord. Nothing, really, has changed.

[hayleythesugarbowl]

Hey!! I saw your Thomas barrow headcanons and I was wondering if you could write a fic where the reader is a new maid and Thomas takes a liking to her and stands up for her and the reader then begins to fall for Thomas and he finds out somehow and tells her that he can’t love her and the reader understands and they end up as good friends? Thank you so much if you write this I love your writing!!

It’s Nice To Have a Friend || Thomas Barrow & reader • Part 1

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • thomas barrow masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: when your father dies and you’re forced to get a job as a maid at Downton you are greeted by Thomas Barrow who takes to helping you get settled in

word count: 1.4k

warnings: none

a/n: thank you so much for the request, I’ve been meaning to write for Thomas and so I decided to make this a series. this is the first of a three part series (part 2 and 3 are out now!!) enjoy <3🍒💋

<— another thomas fic • next part —>

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Downton Abbey. You took in the grand estate as you walked up towards the house, clutching your coat tighter around yourself.

     Saying you needed this job would be an understatement. What with your father’s death and your mother’s not being able to uphold the farm, you needed every penny you could get. Sure, being a maid wasn’t your ideal job, but it would do. There were less respectable positions than a housemaid in a estate such as Lord and Lady Grantham’s.

     You stuck your chin up. You were lucky to have gotten this job. And you would make a good maid—you would have to. It wasn’t where you imagined yourself when you were a little girl and dreamed of being the next Mary Shelley. But what were dreams to reality. You shook these thoughts off as you approached the house. 

     As you headed towards where you guessed the the servants entrance was, you thought about the decisions that had got you here. You hoped you’d made the right ones. You stopped for a moment, leaning up against the wall, hoping no one could see you. This had to go well. You took a minute to collect yourself. A door opened a little ways down and someone stepped out. You saw his figure walking towards you. 

     “Can I help you?” The man who now stood before you asked, with a slight air of suspicion. He had dark hair and dark eyes and you couldn’t help but notice how good-looking he was. God does have his favorites, you thought.

     “I’m (Y/n) (Y/l/n), the new housemaid.” You told him, standing up straighter.

     “I didn’t know we needed another housemaid,” the man said. 

     “Well I’m not here to mend cars,” you told him.

     “Ah, of course not,” he smiled, “I see you prefer to spend your time lurking in the shadows.”

     “I was merely looking for the servants entrance,” you countered.

     He looked you up and down, “Right. This way,” he led you farther down, towards the door he had previously exited. 

     “Well, now I’ve introduced myself, who might you be? I don’t suppose you’re the butler.”

     “In time,” he said mysteriously. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m Thomas Barrow, his Lordship’s valet. It’s a right here.”

     You turned right and were led into the servants quarters, a lively place, bustling with cooks and maids and footmen as they went about their work. As Thomas led you to the back of the room and into a hall you marveled at how many servants worked here. Sure, the house was large but you couldn’t imagine one family needing that much help. 

     “Here we are,” Thomas stopped in front of a room with the door propped open and you were met with a stern looking woman and an even more stern looking man. 

     “Ah, (Y/n), I see you’ve made it,” the woman greeted you, smiling, “I hope your trip wasn’t too rough.”

     “No ma’am,” you answered. 

     “We’re glad to have you (Y/n),” the man said, “Mrs. Hughes and I have been quite busy lately with such a limited staff. Thank you, Thomas, for showing her the way.” 

     Thomas nodded and as you looked around you, the door pushed open a tad and you saw that a maid with blonde hair had entered the room.

     “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said. 

     “We were just welcoming the new maid. (Y/n), this is Anna, the head housemaid. She’ll show you to your rooms.” Mr. Carson said. “You have a few minutes to get settled and then you’ll need to change. Mrs. Hughes can tell you when to get the girls rooms ready and when to turn the guest rooms. Daisy will wake you at 6:00 every morning.”

     The woman who must have been Anna led you down a hall. 

     “I don’t know how I’ll ever remember it all,” you said.

     “You’ll pick it up in no time,” Anna smiled encouragingly. She showed you to the room you were to be sharing with another one of the maids and you set your bag down that held your few possessions.

     Upon walking back to the servants dining room you found most of the people sitting around the table having a rest or mending something, their eyes on you once you walked in. 

      “So, has it always been your dream to be in service or did fate require it?” One woman said, not entirely kindly, you thought.

     “If you’re asking if I mean to be a housemaid my whole life then no, I can’t say that I do.” You answered honestly, maybe too honestly, you realized as the word tumbled out of your mouth. “I have my ambitions, just like the rest of us.”

     “You’ll do good to forget about them,” she drawled.

     “O’Brien doesn’t mean it,” Anna smiled at you, “I think it’s lovely that you’ve got dreams.”

     “You don’t mean to be here long then?” A kitchen girl asked you.

     “Oh I don’t mean that,” you said, “it’s a good position and I’m lucky to be here.”

     Suddenly, a cook with fiery red hair stormed into the room, glaring daggers at the girl who had just spoke. 

     “Daisy I said you could have a break not a day off!” 

     “Coming Mrs. Patmore,” Daisy scrambled off, glancing back at you with a worried look. 

     Thomas walked in just then, Daisy almost running into him, holding a cigarette, “Got a lot of ambitions, do you (Y/n)?”

     “I might,” you answered, looking at Thomas mysteriously. 

     “Well you mustn’t let Mr. Carson hear you talking about ‘em,” he lifted his cigarette to his mouth, “we’re not supposed to have thoughts and opinions down here.”

     “You have no trouble sharing yours,” O’Brien raised an eyebrow.

     “You’re one to talk,” he countered.

     You looked between them, and then turned to Anna, whispering, “They don’t get on, do they?”

     Anna turned to you. “They’re friends really,” she continued in a low voice, taking on a joking tone, “united in their treachery.”

     You didn’t think Thomas had seemed particularly treacherous. Cold maybe. Haughty sure. But not treacherous. However, first impressions were often wrong.

     Mr. Carson entered the room again. Everyone stood up, awaiting instruction. 

     “I’ve rung the dressing gong,” he said, “You must all begin to get ready for dinner. Everyone is ready to be dressed so you should head up at once. Thomas, His Lordship’s new shoes are in the boot room and they need brushing.”

     “Yes Mr. Carson.”

     Mrs. Hughes addressed you. “And (Y/n), if you could help Anna out by fetching Edith’s frock. It was being mended and I haven’t had a chance to send it up.” 

     “Yes Mrs. Hughes.” You went off with everyone else in a rush, heading in the same direction as Thomas.

     “Settling in yet?” Thomas asked you as you walked.

     “As much as I can,” you answered. “I hope so, at least.”

     He was silent a moment before saying, “Always rise when any of the family comes down here. Never appear in the dining room when dinner service is in progress. Prepare to serve long and tiring hours and don’t expect to be acknowledged for it neither. Remember that and you should be alright.”

     You looked at him. “Thank you, you’ve been ever so welcoming. I’ve no doubt you know this house like the back of your hand. If I was Mr. Carson I’d worry I’d be out of a job.”

     Thomas was silent.

     You accepted the silence for a few moments and then sought to break it. “So you seemed keen to talk about ambitions, what are your dreams, Mr. Barrow?”

     “Who says I’ve got dreams?”

     “Everyone has dreams,” you told him.

     “Not me,” he said cryptically. “People like me don’t have dreams.”

     “I don’t believe that. I think everyone’s got a right to hope just as anyone else.”

     “The world doesn’t share your views, my luck,” he said.

     As you pondered over what this meant, you followed Thomas into the boot room. He picked up a pair of shoes and grabbed a brush.

     “I’d like to become a novelist,” you said. “I like to write—that’s my dream.”

     He didn’t say anything

    You gathered a parcel that must have been Lady Edith’s dress and began to leave the room.  “That was a very interesting conversation, Mr. Barrow, thank you.”

     You turned back around before exiting. “I’d like to think we’ll become friends, you and I,” you told him.

     “Oh, (Y/n),” Thomas turned to you, stopping mid-brush, “I don’t have friends here. Everyone knows that.”

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<— another thomas fic • next part —>

ˋ°•*⁀➷ part 2 and 3 are up now hope you enjoyed this loves

[angelswing236]

"No, we're not doing that."

Fictober 24 challenge

Fandom: Downton Abbey

Fanfiction

Carson picked up the box and emptied it onto his desk, pursing his lips at the number of folded slips of paper falling onto his blotter.

‘They’ve certainly taken your proposal to heart,’ he said, disapprovingly.

‘Did you think they wouldn’t?’ Mrs Hughes said, reaching for a slip.

‘I didn’t expect this many suggestions. Personally, I don’t see any need for anything to change.’

‘No, I suppose you don’t,’ Mrs Hughes replied, unable to refrain from rolling her eyes. ‘But clearly, they do. And as much as you think it might, it won’t kill you to make some concessions.’

‘That is yet to be seen, Elsie. I am still of the opinion that there is a right way to do things and then there is every other way, and every other way has no place in a grand house like Downton.’

‘Let’s just see what some of the suggestions are, shall we? Before you make up your mind to refuse them all,’ Mrs Hughes said, opening her first slip of paper.

Carson picked one up and opened it, scanning it, his eyebrows rising.

‘No, we’re not doing that,’ he said, starting what he was quite sure would be a substantial rejected pile.

Mrs Hughes glanced up at him, frowning.

‘Or that. Or that. Or that,’ he continued, discarding slips of paper like confetti.

‘Are you even reading them properly?’

‘Of course, I am. I’m giving each one the consideration it deserves,’ he said, primly.

She narrowed her eyes at him and reached for his rejected pile.

‘What are you doing?’ Carson asked, indignantly.

‘Looking to see what the requests are that you find so impertinent,’ she said, shuffling through the papers. ‘Coffee as well as tea available during our breaks. Moving the wake-up call back half an hour on Sundays. Another easy chair in the servants’ hall. Permission to eat the biscuits the family don’t eat in the jars next to their beds. Well, none of those seem all that revolutionary to me.’

‘Coffee is expensive. And the family might get up early on Sundays. We don’t have the budget to waste on frivolities like another easy chair. And what if the family do want a biscuit and they are not there?’ Carson countered, not willing to budge on the standards he held dear.

‘Oh, Charlie, come on,’ Mrs Hughes said with a sigh. ‘You’ve got to at least consider some of these things.’

‘Why?’

‘Because times are changing, and you know as well as I do that it’s getting harder and harder to get anyone to come into service these days. We need to look after the people we’ve got and do what we can to encourage them to stay. When they can get decent wages without having to do the hours service positions demand, the least we can do is make the terms as appealing as we can.’

Carson blew out a sigh of his own. ‘Back in my day, you were grateful for what you got and that was enough.’

‘I think you have a bit of selective memory going on there. Did you never rail against unfairness or wish for a bit of loosening of the rules?’

Carson sniffed, saying nothing.

‘I know I did,’ Mrs Hughes continued. ‘And none of these suggestions so far are out of the realms of possibilities. No-one’s asking for more days off or a pay rise. It’s all things that are fairly reasonable. Mrs Patmore can make more coffee. We can raid the attic or some of the unused rooms for more easy chairs. Except for his lordship, the family never eat the biscuits. I don’t know why we even continue leaving the jars by the bed for the ladies. And I’m sure if you spoke to his lordship, he'd agree to a bit of a lie-in for the staff on a Sunday.’

‘I suppose,’ Carson said, grudgingly.

‘The key is to think that all these little changes are for the good of the house in the end, Charlie. Happy staff, happy house. Isn’t that what we say?’

‘Hmmph.’

‘Let’s look at what else they’re suggesting.’

‘If we must.’

‘I fear we must. If we’re to survive the modern age.’

[adoracora-elizabeth]

Music made me love you, chapter 40

The last curl was put up by O'Brien. "Your hair is ready, Milady."

This whole morning Cora was called Milady, and she had a tough time adjusting to it. This woman had hoovered around her, helping her with literally everything. It had come in handy with her dress and she had done wonders to her hair. O'Brien had created a masterpiece.

"Thank you, O'Brien, can you leave her Ladyship and me alone now," Rosamund said, sending Sarah away.

"Can you just send them away like that? It does seem unkind. And I am not married yet, so how come you call me her Ladyship?"

Rosamund stood behind Cora and put her veil in her hair. "For the staff, you are already 'her Ladyship' and yes, once you think they can go, you send them away."

"It does feel very unkind."

"You will get used to it." Rosamund stepped back to look at Cora. "You look like a princess. Robert will be stunned when he sees you."

Cora was relieved that Robert and she would not live at Downton right away. They had found a nice house close to the Chiswick Bridge. It was an old house, built in the 14th century, with a later added Queen Anne facade. The detached house was big, over 7000 sq. ft with seven bedrooms, three reception rooms and two bathrooms. Cora had thought it to be too big for them, but Robert had insisted. And Cora had loved the charm of the rooms.

"Are you going to hire staff once you move to 'West Hall Manor'?" Rosamund helped Cora up and fixed her train.

"Robert does want staff, but I can cook myself. I even like cooking. But I have agreed with a gardener and some girls to keep the house tidy and in order. So, there is more time for me to write and eventually care for little ones."

"Is there one coming already?" Rosamund asked surprised. "Is Peter getting a niece or nephew?"

"No." Cora responded. "Not yet. For now, we enjoy the cuddles we can get from Peter. He is growing up so fast. I saw that he lost his baby roles."

Rosamund got an extremely sweet look in her eyes. "He is growing up so fast and he is so smart already." She looked at Cora. "Now let us go down."

Cora had been installed in the room she would get after her marriage with Robert. Next to it was a small dressing room for Robert. This setup was still from the old times when husband and wife did not sleep in the same bedroom. The room was very spacious, and the bed looked extremely comfortable, tonight she would know how comfortable. Robert had suggested staying the night at Downton before going on their honeymoon.

+++

Music started playing when Cora walked down the stairs. All heads were turned, and she heard a collective aww. Robert was not in her sight yet. Once downstairs, Rosamund adjusted her train again, kissed her on her cheek and wished her good luck. Harold was waiting for her to take his arm.

"Are you ready for this next step?" He asked quietly.

Cora chuckled. "It is a bit late to have regrets."

Harold put his other hand on top of Cora’s. "Are you having doubts?"

This made Cora look up at him and with the biggest smile she answered. "Far from it."

"Good." They had reached the end of the great hall, where Robert was waiting for her. On the chairs, she saw her mother with Sorcha next to her. On the other side of the aisle was Violet with Patrick. Next to them were Rosamund and Marmaduke. She saw some familiar faces from the staff, Mrs. Hughes and Carson were accompanied by other people she had not met before.

+++

Robert felt his nerves getting worse when the guests all turned towards the grand staircase, he heard them gasp audible. He could not see Cora yet and that made him nervous. He was trying to imagine what kind of dress she was wearing. Would she have a big ballroom gown, or was it a very slim-fitting dress? He had not the faintest idea what she had chosen. He had tried to get it out of Rosamund, but he had not had much luck. She only told him the colour. An off-white dress it would be. She gave him a piece of the fabric so he could find a dress shirt in the same colour or a tie.

Finally, she came around the corner, holding her brother's arm. He almost grabbed John's arm, who was standing next to him. She was breathtakingly beautiful; her dress was nothing he could have imagined. It was fitted around her body perfectly, not too slim fitting but also not a ballroom gown. She was gliding towards him it felt. All the faces around her disappeared and he only saw her. Harold kissed her cheek before handing her to him.

Robert felt her gloved hand glide in his and he was relieved she was wearing gloves so she would not feel his sweaty palm. She softly squeezed his hand, while listening to the officiant.

+++

"You can now kiss the bride."

Robert turned towards Cora and carefully lifted her veil. Her lips were coloured with a soft pink. Her hyacinth-blue eyes were shining, she had a soft pink shade of eyeshadow on her eyelids. It was as if time stood still, and he saw every small detail on her face. Her mouth slightly twitched into a smile. Her nose that she crunched and her eyes, oh her eyes were full of love and anticipation. His hand softly on her jaw and cheeks, he pulled her close. He touched her lips briefly. "My wife." He murmured before kissing her more intense.

Suddenly the room around him came back to life and he was startled by the sound of applause. He broke his kiss and looked Cora in the eye. "Hello Mrs. Crawley." He smiled at her.

"Hello, my husband." She smiled back.

Robert felt Cora’s hand on his stomach and a second later she was kissing him again.

+++

Peter was trying to grab Cora’s earring, but she managed to keep it out of his reach. "You are growing so fast." She said in a soft affectionate tone.

"Guests are waiting to congratulate you, can you please join Robert." Violet stood in front of Cora with eyes cold as ice.

"Mama, it is their wedding day. Can you please calm down and be nice today." Rosamund said annoyed while taking Peter back in her arms.

Cora gave her a thankful look. "I am coming Lady Grantham."

Violet huffed and walked away.

"She is lady Grantham, is she not?" Cora was surprised by her response. She tried to address her in the right way, she did not want to mess up, especially not on her special day. But since this morning Violet had been on her nerves.

"She is indeed." Rosamund winked. "Mama is just not used to not getting things done in her way. Especially not with Robert who always followed her wishes, but since he met you, he is finally standing up for himself."

Cora sighed, she had been worried about Violet, and this did not make things better. She walked towards Robert who gave her such an adorable look that she almost forgot about Violet’s treatment of her.

"My dear, let me introduce you to Lord Flintshire, his father is the Marquess of Flintshire."

A good-looking man from around the same age as Robert was.

"Hugh has been a dear friend since we were children." Robert continued. Next to Hugh was a woman, she did not look happy Cora thought.

"Nice to meet you, Lord Flintshire." Cora said formal.

"You can call me Hugh. I am only a Lord for other people, not for friends. This is Susan, my fiancée." Hugh put his arm at Susan's back, who reluctantly shook Cora’s hand. "Robert, I know this is your wedding day, but can we talk for a minute or two?"

Robert looked at Cora for her approval. She kissed his cheek. "I will be fine; in the meantime, I can get to know Susan." Cora hoped that making friends in Robert’s circle would please Violet.

"Is that Lady Lancashire." Susan said, when Cora turned towards her to ask a question. A bit stunned, Cora was left alone. She looked around the great hall. All the chairs had been moved to the side and there was a small dance floor. She had loved twirling around in Robert's arm during their opening dance. He had chosen a slow waltz. A soft hand was placed on her arm, she saw Rosamund standing next to her.

"Time to say goodbye to your favourite nephew." She said, while handing Peter to Cora. "Do not feel bad about Susan. Hugh is a very nice man, but he asked a peculiar woman to marry him."

+++

"Why did you send O'Brien upstairs? I thought you only hired her for the day to help Cora get dressed and styled?" Patrick asked Violet while she wheeled him into his bedroom.

"Cora can use some help getting all those pins out of her hair and that dress is also not easy."

"You make it sound as if it is a nice thing you did. But you realise that it is their wedding night? Robert would love to help her I think."

"Patrick!" Violet said shocked.

"Dear, as if we do not know they enjoy each other company already and how do you think you will get grandchildren."

Violet hummed but did not say a word. She started to untie his shoes.

"Maybe I should ask Carson to help me? Or one of our boys, there are some potential future valets under them."

"You do not want me to help you?" Violet stopped and looked up.

"I want you to leave your son at peace with his new wife. That is all I am asking of you."

"He married the wrong girl; how can you be so calm and just let it all happen. I do not understand you." She pulled the first shoe off.

"Dear, we talked about this. You promised me to be more forgiving and you also promised me that you would not make her uncomfortable or feel unwelcome."

Violet threw both his shoes in a corner. "I just cannot believe Robert did not like Isabella and chose Cora instead. Can you imagine, marrying an American girl, when you can have a nice English Lady."

"Your son made a choice with his heart. And I am positive that Cora is a lady, and she will be an amazing Lady Grantham in the future."

"That we will see."

+++

Robert scooped Cora in his arms, when they reached the first landing on the stairs, this erupted a high-pitched shriek from Cora.

"You scared me." she giggled.

"Let us hurry upstairs, nobody has seen us escape."

Cora sighed, while wrapping her arms around his neck. "It feels like we are escaping indeed."

"Were you able to enjoy this day?" Robert lowered Cora back on her feet when they reached her new bedroom. Mrs. Hughes promised to make the room cosy and romantic for tonight. Cora's arms were still wrapped around his neck.

"I am now allowed to call me your wife, your Mrs. Crawley and that fills me with joy." She kissed him passionately, while reaching for the doorknob behind her. "Can we please get me out of this dress."

Robert growled and pushed Cora into the room once she opened the door.

"Oh my God!"

Robert let go off Cora so abruptly that she almost fell on the ground. He could grab her arm to keep her upright. They both looked in horror at O'Brien who was standing in the room.

"Why are you here?" Robert managed to ask.

"Lady Grantham had send me up earlier tonight, she said that Mrs. Crawley had asked for help taking off her dress and unpinning her hair."

To Robert's annoyance this woman did not even blush and she had a smug smile on her face. "Obviously she does not need help, especially not on her wedding day. Now please leave." he tried to keep his voice calm, but he was steaming. Why did his mother do this, why did she try to ruin things for him. What was it that made her feel she needed to do this.

Cora stepped close to Robert, when O'Brien closed the door, she brushed with her hands over his chest. "Do not let this upset you darling. It does not matter."

"But Cora." he now sounded sad. "It does matter. This shows that my mother does not have respect for you or even for me."

She now started to take of his jacket. She let it fall to the ground, she than pulled his tie lose and with that pulled him closer to her. She raised her chin, her lips hovering in front of his lips. "I only want to think about what you are going to do with me tonight." She kissed him on his lips. She left a trail of kisses when she moved to his neck.

"Oh Cora."

"Now please help me out of this dress." She turned around, in the meantime her hands were reaching for the pins holding up her hair.

"Please Milady. Let me help you to take of your lovely dress, brush your hair and then show you how heaven can be like."

[thommy-events]

Something smutty this way comes...

It's the Autumn Thommy Smut Fest!

Before you is a list of kinks and a list of Downton Abbey series locations. Use these (or think of your own!) to write delicious smut as perfectly vanilla or as fabulously freaky as you wish!

Fancy an extra challenge?

Let your smutty creations take place in the most difficult place possible! Will they get caught?

The Rules:

You must be over 18 to take part in this event. Please no minors, and we will check!

We want works within the Thommy ship

You can write fanfic, draw, paint, create playlists, collages - any form of art that follows our autumnal, smutty theme!

If you post your work on Tumblr, tag your post with #AutumnThommySmutFest2023. If you write fic on AO3, add it to the AutumnThommySmutFest2023 Collection!

Creations must be posted on your chosen platform(s) between the 26th November and 2nd December!

If you would like to get ideas, chat about fic, and have Thommy-centric time, also feel free to join our server, Thommy Events Workshop!

Go wild, go forth, go smutty! We already can't wait to see what everyone gets up to 👀

(Below are the kink prompts and locations should the graphic above be unclear!)

KINKS:

Wrists tied

Begging

Gentle sex

Biting

Blindfolded

Praise

Discipline

Rough sex

Nipple play

Stuffing

Edging

Worship

Slapping / spanking

Butt plug

Voyeurism

Rimming

Public sex

Orgasm Denial

Cream pie

Fire / Ice play

Hair pulling

Whipping

LOCATIONS:

Servant's Hall

Carson's Chair

Corridor

Gallery

Servant's Bedroom

Wall in the servants' yard

Front Door

Boot Room

Library desk

Lady Mary's vanity

Kitchen

Bench under the tree

Single bed at the pub

Folly

Grand staircase

Tom Branson's car

Library bookshelves

Doctor Clarkson's surgery

The Lake

Servant yard crates

Farmer's field

Lord Grantham's dressing room

The piano

[juliasdowntonstuff]

My entry to the Cobert Winter Fanfic Exchange has just been posted to Ao3 and ff.net as well as on here for anyone who might want to read. Thank you @bella-caecilia for organising this event, this was great fun and I’m so looking forward to reading what everyone wrote!

I chose the Hurt/Comfort category and my prompts were “You don’t have to be so brave with me” / laceration

Without further ado, this is set after S6E5 (the bloody dinner episode)

Robert was coming home. It had been two weeks since that fateful dinner party, a night she would never be able to forget, and now he was finally returning from the village hospital.

Cora was standing by the window in the small library of Downton, anxiously peeking out and letting her eyes wander over the grass and gravel leading all the way down to the gates of their estate.

He was supposed to arrive at the abbey at half past two. A quick look at the clock to her right told her that they were running late, almost half an hour already.

What if something had happened, what if he was not coming home after all?

Then, as her mind began to spin with all the what-ifs she could possibly come up with, each one worse than the one before, she saw a big motor coming up the gravel driveway. It was driving slowly, much too slowly for her liking, but after a while, she saw that this was the ambulance bringing him home. For the past two weeks, there was nothing she had wanted more than to simply hold him in her arms, to feel his presence with her while it was so sorely missed. She had found it hard to fall asleep without him next to her in bed every night, not that she would admit to that.

Quickly, Cora turned on her heel and left the room. With long strides, she crossed the entrance hall and walked out the front door to welcome him, just like they always did with their guests. Right when she came to a halt outside the grand wooden doors of their family home, the back doors of the ambulance opened and she got to look directly into his face, a sight she had been looking forward to for days now.

She had been so incredibly scared when they took him and rushed him to emergency surgery at the village hospital. She had been afraid that she would never get to see him again, that she would never get to see his gentle smile and feel his loving gaze on her, ever again.

The image of him lying in a pool of his own blood on the dining room floor, trying to tell her he loved her — it haunted her. She might have appeared put together as she tried to calm him down, but that was really just a façade. Deep down, she had been scared out of her mind, had been afraid of losing him forever. However much she had wanted to, she simply could not allow herself to fall to pieces in front of everyone — least of all their daughters, who had to watch their father be rushed away, covered in blood.

When Robert saw her, his face lit up into such a bright smile. But even the brightest and most sincere of smiles couldn't get rid of the dark circles under his eyes. His unusually sallow complexion worried her, as did his sunken cheeks. She had to remind herself that he had just undergone a major emergency surgery — of course, he was not going to come back home the picture of health. A gastrectomy was not to be underestimated, that's what Doctor Clarkson had told her when she visited Robert the morning after the incident.

She had expected him not to look his usual self, but not quite as bad as this. It would take a while and exceptionally good nursing to get him back on his feet. Cora was determined to help him as best she could.

The people who had driven him there set about getting his stretcher out of the ambulance to take him inside and up to the bedroom like they had been instructed to. Robert winced noticeably when they hoisted him out of the car, the sudden movement causing his fresh wound to hurt again despite the strong painkillers he had been given ahead of his departure from the village hospital.

"Cora!" he exclaimed weakly as they started to carry him inside past her. Upon this, though, the men stopped and waited until the Countess had had a chance to greet him.

„Welcome home, my dear. They will take you up to our room and I will join you as soon as I have talked to Doctor Clarkson," his wife replied reassuringly, letting her hand graze over his arm as he was carried inside once more.

Robert only managed a small nod in return, wincing and inhaling sharply at the swaying motions shaking him through.

He could hear her voice through the closed door, along with Doctor Clarkson's. However much he tried to concentrate to understand what they were saying, he could not hear a word of what was spoken. Their voices were simply too muffled by the wooden doors separating them from him lying in their bed, and his mind was still hazy from all the painkillers he had been given in the hospital.

Robert was already starting to drift back off to sleep, his eyelids getting increasingly heavy, when the door finally opened and Cora walked in.

She closed the door carefully behind her and took a seat in the chair that was put close to his bedside. When she reached out her hand to take his hand in hers, his eyes immediately flew open again. His gaze met his wife's, and he recognised the concerned look she tried to veil behind an encouraging and welcoming smile — he had seen this before.

"Oh my dear, I am so pleased to have you back home. You have no idea how worried the girls and I have been and how anxious we were to finally have you here with us again. Even your mother decided to let her grudge rest for now, though I suppose your return will lead her back on her warpath with me." She saw his blinking slow down — a clear sign he was tired — and so, after a short pause, Cora added: "I'll let you rest for now. I will redo the dressing on your wound after dinner, as Doctor Clarkson instructed."

Robert still had trouble speaking with his throat feeling sore, but he managed to croak out: "I am so- I'm so sorry you all had to witness this. But what about the nurse Doctor Clarkson wanted to send up to the house along with me?"

Cora handed him a cup of water already standing on his nightstand when he started to cough, wincing and pressing his hand to his side all the while.

"I sent her back to the hospital, she's more needed there to help with all the hurt and sick in the village. I can care for you, and Doctor Clarkson explained it all quite well. I know that I am capable of doing it," Cora said confidently when she set the glass back down.

"You really shouldn't, these are trained people for a reason and I wouldn't want you to have to see this," he whispered in reply.

"But I want to, Robert. Please."

Robert knew that this was an argument he was not going to win, his wife was quite headstrong when she wanted to be and clearly, she wanted in this case. So instead of arguing some more, he simply nodded slowly before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep again.

Later that night, Cora excused herself directly after dinner ended, not joining her family in the drawing room as usual. Instead, she climbed the flights of stairs to go to her bedroom and care for Robert. Mary and Edith had offered to help with the wound dressing, but Robert had refused them much more profusely than he had Cora when they had gone up to welcome him home after tea.

She felt nervous, even though there was no particular reason for her to be. Her husband was home and he was safe. He had had an emergency surgery a fortnight ago and there were hours when she didn't know if she'd ever see him again, but she did. The doctors managed to save him, to keep him there with her, and now it was on her to help him get better.

Doctor Clarkson had shown her how to dress the wound in fresh bandages and how to apply the creams and tinctures to help the wound heal quicker and better, and hopefully also scar less. He had also told her when to give him what kind of medicine to help manage his pain and minimise his discomfort. She was prepared as best as anyone probably could be and still, she was nervous.

What would it look like, how bad would it be?

Taking a deep breath to calm her down, she opened the door and entered their shared bedroom to find him asleep on the bed. However, he wasn't sleeping as peacefully as she had hoped — his face was pulled into some sort of grimace of constant pain.

Quietly, she gathered the supplies she would need to care for his wound and neatly assembled them all on his nightstand. Then, she took a seat in the chair that was still pulled to his bedside and tried to gently wake him from his uneasy slumber.

Robert heard a familiar, gentle and soft voice ring out to him and slowly, it took him out of his uneasy dream. Almost hesitantly, he came to and found himself face to face with his smiling wife.

"What a sight for sore eyes," he whispered softly, his voice heavy with sleep.

A wide smile graced Cora's features when he slowly reached out his arm for her to take. Gingerly, she put her hand in his offered one. When his fingers closed around her delicate hand, she was surprised by the strength of his hold. He had barely managed to reach out his arm, but his hold was fast and steady. That fact encouraged her, it gave her hope.

"Can you sit up in bed? I am afraid it is time to change your bandages and apply the creams Doctor Clarkson prescribed," Cora said after a while of simply sitting there and holding hands.

Robert nodded and further strengthened his grip on her to hoist himself up.

However, before he could even try to sit up on his own, Cora asked: "Do you want some more medicine to manage the pain? You did not take any this afternoon and you seemed to be in quite some pain when you were asleep just now."

Shaking his head no, he replied: "No, I can manage without." After a few short seconds and seeing her doubting look, he tried to distract her and added: "Are you sure you want to do this? Maybe Cousin Isobel coul-"

"No, Robert. I won't trouble her with this," she retorted sternly. Then, Cora stood up from her seated position to help him sit up in bed as well. "And now, let me help you."

He tried. He truly thought he would be able to do it. After only a second of trying, though, the pain in his abdomen became too much to bear and he wincingly fell back into the pillows. He didn't move, inhaling and exhaling quite sharply as he pressed a hand to his upper belly.

Cora let him catch his breath and then handed him a tiny glass filled with a clear liquid she took from the nightstand. Silently, she urged him to drink it, promising him a sip of water afterwards.

"You don't have to be so brave with me, dear. Take the medicine and it will all be a bit easier, for both of us. I can't bear to see you in such pain, not when there is something I can do to help," she said when he only eyed the small glass, clearly hesitant to sip it.

Begrudgingly, Robert drank the medicine, pulling a funny face at the lingering bitter and unpleasant taste.

They sat in silence for a little while, waiting for the medication to start working its magic. Slowly, Robert's tensely clenched jaw began to relax and his steely grip on the bed frame loosened.

"Let us try again, Cora," Robert said with a determined expression.

It cost him great strength and it hurt immensely, but he did it. They did. Somehow, he got into a seated position and managed to stay there while she unwrapped the white cloth bandages that were tightly wound around his torso.

The less his chest and belly were covered, the more her hands started to quiver. She kept her eyes fixed on the slowly disappearing bandages, until finally, the last of them fell away and she saw the wound.

Her breath got caught in her throat. She had imagined a lot, but nothing seemed to have come close to the reality. The wound was long and crooked, the edges jagged. It was painfully obvious that this had not been a planned operation. The flesh held together by the many stitches was coloured a sort of angry red, and it looked incredibly painful.

"That's why I wanted the nurse here to take care of this, at least in the beginning. I did not want you to have to see this, not when it still looks as bad as this," Robert whispered. He had noticed her hesitation and had seen and felt her movements cease when the bandages were gone.

Cora shook her head slightly at that.

"Why? You are my husband and I vowed to take care of you. I am not a young girl you could scare to death with this. You have been injured and I want to take care of you, that's all there is to it," she said, motioning towards his wound and the medical supplies on his nightstand.

With determination in her eyes, she set about caring for the scarring wound the way the doctor had instructed her to and before long, Robert got to lie back down with a fresh bandage wrapped around his torso underneath his nightshirt. This was exhausting, he had to admit, and he almost immediately dozed off into a light slumber.

Not much later, Cora got into bed next to him after her lady's maid had left the room. Baxter had worked silently and very efficiently so that she would not wake him when she helped Cora get ready for the night.

The mattress shifted when she got into bed, the motion woke him up and he watched as she tried to come closer while still trying to keep some distance between them so that she would not unintentionally hurt him.

"Thank you for doing this," Robert said, his voice heavy with sleep.

"We will manage this, you'll see. Just don't hesitate to take the pain medication from Doctor Clarkson, it is there to help you. You don't have to prove anything to me. It is not admitting a weakness or even defeat. You never have to be brave with me, dear."

Cora sat up in bed and placed an innocent kiss on his lips when he hesitantly nodded in agreement, followed by another one she placed on his jaw. Then, she settled back into bed and pulled the covers up over the two of them.

"Cora?" he asked again shortly thereafter.

She had already begun falling asleep, feeling exhausted after this day, and only managed a small: "Mmh?" in reply.

"I know this is hard for you, all of it. Just know one thing: you don't have to be so brave with me, either," he said firmly in the silence that had fallen over their room. His hand left the space on his belly where it had been resting until then and softly fell into the space between them.

Cora turned off the lights and settled into bed next to him. She couldn't cuddle up to him or even lie too close without possibly hurting him. But she could hold his hand, and so she did.

That night, for the first time in two weeks, she fell into an easy sleep, not haunted by a gruesome nightmare that took her back to the dinner party. She fell asleep with a smile on her face, thinking that finally, things were looking up again. She had her husband back home with her. Robert was lying next to her, he would eventually recover and she would help him as best she could. That was a promise she gave him and herself.

Things would turn out alright for them in the end, she was sure of it.

[housedeaubemarle]

The Grand Hunt - Part 1: The Call

Follows after 'A House Call' but without any direct connection.

Part 2: The Tracking

Part 3: The Hunt

Part 4: The Trophy

(written, as always, with the inimitable and ever patient @escherstrange-ffxiv who has been nothing but hospitable in allowing me to use her boys for FFXIV-Regency-with-a-side-of-Downton-Abbey-related shenanigans; I am much obliged)

tw: harassment, stalking, assault, blood

~*~

It has been about a month since the grand ball of Maintigny, a much-talked-of event in which joyous merrymaking and - because this is Ishgard - gleeful scandalising had taken place. Ishgardian highborn society still reflects on that starry night with fascination if not delight, much to Lady Oisinne de Maintigny’s satisfaction. Even certain members of the High Houses have been heard to still bring that night into conversation. 

That was then. Now, it is a calm early morning in late spring, and among the correspondence delivered (with increasing regularity) to House de Losstarot is a faintly-scented notecard, bordered with handsome filigree. Directly in the centre of the card is one handwritten sentence in (perhaps vexingly) familiar cursive script and brown ink. 

‘The Dowager Viscountess Philomene de Aubemarle kindly requests the pleasure of the Lords Joshua de Losstarot and Isillud de Losstarot’s company at her home, this day at 11 o’clock.’   

There is no instruction on what to do if they are unable to give her ladyship the pleasure of their company. 

~*~

"I swear to the Twelve if it's another social…"

Isillud reads and rereads the card. "To call someone so early and at such short notice for just a social call is most unlike the dowager."

"You think it's something else?"

He pockets the card. "She has done much for us; the least we can do is be prompt."

As if on cue, the carriage stops in front of House Aubemarle, with the crow perched on Isillud's shoulder helpfully cawing to inform the siblings. Joshua shields his eyes from the glare of the morning sun while Isillud gives three solid knocks on the door.

30 seconds later, ever reliably, Marceaux stands in the doorway. Not a single eyelash bats at the appearance of the dark bird on Isillud’s shoulder.

“Good morning, my lords. My lady will receive you in her drawing room. This way please.”

He guides them to said room, different from the cream confection they’d been received in on their first visit. This one is decorated in shades of pale dusky rose and pastel pink; nothing loud or garish, but it gives the impression of more warmth than the previous drawing room. Such warmth is augmented by a low fire burning in the hearth. And there, on another sofa before yet another full tea service on a similar low table, sits the Dowager Viscountess. She’s been staring into the fire, hands folded in her lap, when Marceaux announces “Lord Joshua de Losstarot and Lord Isillud de Losstarot” as he opens the door.

She turns her head, but does not rise since she is the elder relative. The woman sitting beside her, a Duskwight with sandy brown hair tied in a bun, does stand however, in order to give a respectful curtsey to the gentlemen. She appears older than the Losstarots, but bears no resemblance to the Dowager.

“Good morning, my lords. Your punctuality is commendable indeed. Please have a seat.” There is a brief pause when she notices the crow. Then she turns to her companion, bids the lady bend closer so that she may whisper something right in her ear.

“At once, milady,” replies the woman, and disappears quickly from the room, closing the door behind her. 

Meanwhile, the Dowager herself sits forward, and begins pouring a milky beverage into the porcelain cups. It is Ishgardian tea this time, it appears.

“I am sure the invitation was an inconvenient surprise, and you have my apologies. It is frankly barbaric to send a card at seven o’ clock and expect one’s guests four hours later on the same day."

All of them step forward to take their seats, with Joshua saying, "Not at all, Viscountess. It is our pleasure to serve after the kindness you have shown us since we first met."

"Even so, I shall be direct in order to make up for such discourteous manners.”

She finishes pouring and looks up at them. 

“I would like you to hunt down some people and enact justice on behalf of House de Aubemarle.”

Joshua's gracious smile changes to confusion at the Dowager's request. The crow tilts its beady eyes curiously at the Dowager though Isillud is the least affected of the trio.

"Like vigilantes?"

The Dowager tsks. ”Not quite vigilantes, my lord. I do not wish you to make a career out of it. But time is of the essence, and I find myself in need of some resourceful young men.”

She sits back against the sofa with her cup, but doesn’t lean into the cushions. Her posture is as straight as ever.

“Last evening, just after sundown I was told, two of our housemaids were returning from running errands at the Crozier, when some men accosted them. Those brutes made them the typical perverse propositions their kind always does, and when our maids tried to flee the situation, they were grabbed and manhandled into an alley.”

The calm on her face gradually gives way to stiff anger, as she continues. 

“It is surely by the mercy of the Fury that they successfully fought off these assailants before anything worse occurred, although not without some cost. They arrived home, both terrified, one wounded. It was not without effort to even discover from them the series of events I have just told you. Such is their condition that they cannot recollect anything that may help us conclusively identify these savages. Suspicions are all we have.”

The Dowager’s grip on her teacup tightens as her anger mounts.

“Ishgard is no city for the faint hearted. It has its myriad dangers. However, no one who wears the uniform of House Aubemarle has ever had to fear for their safety or dignity, from the Pillars to the Foundation. Someone has dared to touch our people. Something must be done.”

Joshua taps his chin, eyebrows knit as the cogs turn in his head. "Possibly the first time, or they aren't the only victims… Viscountess, do you know if your servants were the first attack in the Crozier? Have there been other noble houses who have this same issue?"

“To my knowledge, we have the misfortune to be the one and only occurrence. None of my circles have mentioned such violence in any capacity. And I would have heard if there had been such incidents.” She shakes her head. “Most of our concerns for safety involve idiots duelling each other over petty concerns, and the occasional, deluded individual who imagines their thievery will go undiscovered.”

The door of the room opens quietly, admitting the woman who had left earlier. She sets a small bowl of blackberries on the table.

The Dowager glances over, then gestures at it. “For your bird, if it should care for it, Lord Isillud.”

She continues, addressing the woman who's resumed her seat beside the Dowager. “Nisette, what were the girls doing in the Crozier?”

“They had been to the locksmith, milady. Mr Ofanleitasyn had ordered a new lock and key for the back kitchen door. There was a message sent in the late afternoon to say it was ready.” Nisette herself presses her lips together in some distress, and hesitates. It is only when the Dowager nods that she continues. 

“The others wouldn't have let Rewelle go in the first place, as no one was available to accompany her. But Rewelle insisted. She even roused Yisa earlier than usual to go with her.” 

The Dowager’s frown is disapproving, but she doesn't say anything. She turns back to her guests.

“My lords, there is a reason I do not believe this is any mere attempt at a robbery. As I said earlier, thieves who try to rob a noble house, much less servants who were not carrying anything particularly valuable, are deluded fools.

“No, this involves Rewelle, and thus suspicions, regrettably, must fall on Lord Ajax Gaussain.”

Isillud nods to his crow. "Go on, Will. Don't forget to thank the Viscountess for her hospitality." The crow glides to the bowl, cawing and bowing its head before helping itself.

Joshua has a look of distaste when he hears the name. "You think Lord Ajax fancies your servant and this is his way of intimidating her?"

The Dowager’s lip twitches slightly upwards at Joshua’s unhidden reaction. “Your brevity, Lord Joshua, is admirable though I find ‘fancy’ too agreeable a word for what is at play here.”

She lets out a breath, as if bracing herself for her own elaboration.

“He first caught sight of Rewelle late last year when he accompanied his mother here on a visit. I was preoccupied with my recovery, and so for ten days, my servants had to endure the foolish amount of bouquets and trinkets he sent to the manor’s back door in an attempt to woo her. All those ‘tributes’ were disposed of as soon as they were discovered. When a necklace arrived, they felt compelled to inform me and my daughter, despite my condition. I made Oudine bide her time while I wrote to Lady Amitte regarding the inappropriacy of her son’s behaviour. The necklace was also returned.”

(Beside her, Nisette nods silently as she keeps her head down, focusing on some stitching she has produced.)

“That woman,” says the Dowager with sharp disgust, “had the gall to say, ‘respectfully’, that her son would not ever pursue a lowborn woman, and perhaps, I had let my illness cloud my judgement. Nonetheless, as a ‘favour’ to myself and the name of Aubemarle, she would let it be known to her family, and request her son to inform his own… associates, that we would not countenance the harassment of our servants. She even sent that ridiculous necklace back. Our outrage at seeing it in this house again, I will not describe.”

The short silence which follows is filled in only by the sound of the crow’s beak clinking gently against the bowl as it picks up berries.

“For a time, it seemed Lady Amitte’s motherly advice worked. Nothing more darkened our back door, and we ensured no Gaussain ever entered our home again, no matter how many calling cards they left. Then, the shadowing began.” The Dowager takes a sip of her tea, more to calm herself than out of thirst. “Rewelle would go out into the city, and distinctly feel herself being watched. The girl thought it her own imagination, and so kept it to herself.

“Until the day he directly approached her in the Crozier.” The Dowager’s lip curls in a sneer. “I will not repeat the odious promises and reassurances he poured into her ear. Being one of her status, Rewelle could not safely deny his attention and was forced to have his company all the way to our back door.

“Mr Ofanleitasyn witnessed Lord Ajax leaving after Rewelle ran into the kitchen, frightened and upset. He himself asked to see my daughter at once and reported the entire incident.”

(Nisette has been silently glaring at her thread for a few minutes, as if the sewing had insulted her entire family line.)

“The servants were instructed not to let Rewelle run errands if possible, and if she had to, one other person was to be with her at all times. For her part, Oudine went to speak directly to Lord Tramault.”

The Dowager puts the cup down on her lap, and looks the Losstarots in the eye. She had already been angry from the moment she began her story.

The calmness of her tone doesn't match the fury burning in her dark brown eyes.

“‘Sending a lowborn woman little presents and walking her home is no crime’ was the answer given.”

Joshua looks at Isillud; the older brother notices the stare and instead turns to pet his crow, smoothing out the feathers with his fingers. 

"Indeed it is no crime, but," Joshua rises and paces the floor. "It is the inability to bow out like a gentleman after rejection that makes it twice as rude."

"She's just a conquest," Isillud adds. "Being the youngest just means he still has his mother's petticoats to cower under." A tiny smile curls at the corner of his mouth.

Joshua sticks his hands in his pockets, scowling at Isillud. "Some people just have all the luck," he mutters darkly. "That makes retribution more satisfying." 

"But all you have right now are suspicions." The bright emerald eyes of the older Losstarot look to the Dowager. "Please allow me to speak to Rewelle and her companion, Viscountess. Even if it's hired thugs, it'll be a start."

The Dowager stiffens visibly. “‘Just a conquest’ indeed. You know, your house currently possesses a most noble motto, 'May the Rood ever flourish', but perhaps ‘en toutes choses, brièveté’ would be more appropriate.”

Joshua is amused by the motto enough to grin, despite the Dowager's expression. "It would be ungracious to beat around the bush when you have spoken plain, Viscountess."

She gives him a look, then eyes Isillud warningly. “I shall not have one of this house be hunted, physically or verbally. Aubemarle has always taken care of those in our protection. I must ask for delicacy in your inquiries.”

Isillud remains serious. "If all goes to plan, she need not utter a word. I'll speak to them in your presence if it will allay your doubts." Joshua nods along with a smile that says, ‘He knows what he's doing.’

The older lady looks at each brother in turn, as if to appraise their intentions, then shakes her head. “Have a care, my lord. Such a promise, in the presence of others, will only inflame the rumours of your family's abilities.” 

The Dowager stretches her hand towards her attendant, who instantly puts away her stitching and places the Hornbill walking stick into her mistress’ hand. She gets up, prompting everyone else to stand.

“I will have them brought here. When your interview is concluded, have the goodness to stay a little longer - there are other things you ought to be apprised of before you begin any kind of search.”

Nisette curtsies, both Losstarots bow, the Dowager leaves. Only the gentle crackling of the fire, and the soft clicks of a crow’s beak fill the air upon her exit.

As soon as they are left alone Joshua flails. "Really? Here? And you call me reckless, Izzy, they're maids, the gossip will reach Ajax within two bells, no longer, and we'll lose the lead."

Isillud stares evenly at his brother. "And what was your plan?"

He hems and sputters back, "I-I don't know, use Rewelle to lure him out, make a rumour you're marrying her?"

"Ajax Gaussain has been telling every willing ear that I have bedded every man on the star, and you think he'll believe that?"

"He's not wrong!"

Isillud sticks a finger up at Joshua, "Not true, Marceaux still has his virtue intact."

"...Eventually!"

The crow caws, flapping its wings and making a clawing motion with its feet. Both brothers shout, "No!" in unison at it. 

Joshua scratches his head, "Whoever's doing this, we must lure them out of Ishgard first, there are too many eyes and wagging tongues to be subtle."

Isillud takes the liberty to settle in on the couch, sarcasm plain on his face, "I'll try."

~*~

The brothers wait - suggesting, disagreeing, re-suggesting, disagreeing again - for quite some time, before there is a polite knock on the door.

In a way, the young lords are to be pitied when expecting only two people, seven individuals instead pour through the doorway, practically filling the room. From the group, three of them come forward: two Wildwood Elezens - one wears a maid’s uniform, while the other has on a dark green gown, a chatelaine jingling softly with its accoutrements as she moves - and one Keeper Miqo’te, dwarfed by everyone in the room. 

Despite the vast difference in height, it is the Elezen maid who clings to the tiny Miqo’te girl, hand never leaving the latter’s shoulder. Her long, lustrous jet-black hair is tied back neatly, leaving two thin bangs to frame her lovely - worried - face. Her eyes are dark, with thick black lashes; below them are a shapely nose and rosy lips upon a fair, smooth complexion. If she had been highborn, the entirety of Ishgard would have fallen over themselves in their efforts to win even just a smile from her. This could not be any other than the Rewelle spoken of earlier.

Her support, Yisa, is a sight once never seen in the city, but now becoming ever so slightly more common. The first thing one is drawn to are her large, luminous eyes, their irises white like the full moon. They are well matched by her white hair, woven with faint pink-purple highlights, and two sharp furry ears that point upwards. A small braid hangs on each side of her blue-grey face. Thick white bandages are wrapped around her tiny forearms, going up past the puffy sleeves of her uniform; above her collar peeks the corner of another bandage.

The Elezen in the green gown, with honey-gold hair and pale green eyes, curtsies deeply. The retinue behind her, consisting of one Hyur woman, another Hyur man and two more Duskwight men follow suit with their silent greetings. All of them look grimly determined.

When she raises her head, the green-gowned one has a distressed expression despite her polite greetings. “Good afternoon, milords. I am Mrs Marinterre, the housekeeper. I was instructed to bring you Rewelle and Yisa.”

(Rewelle’s grip tightens. Yisa reaches up to her shoulder to pat her friend’s hand.)

“I do beg milords’ pardon for the intrusion of my other colleagues,” says Mrs Marinterre. “They are… very much concerned for Rewelle and Yisa. My lady, the Dowager Viscountess, has suggested that perhaps you might be able to put their fears to rest.”

(The Hyur footman at the back, with dark brown hair and black eyes, looks particularly unconvinced.) 

It is not done for servants to question their betters like this. In any other circumstance, this would be unheard of in such a tightly-run ship as the Aubemarle house. It would seem that they have been given special dispensation by the Dowager herself. Tellingly, Marceaux is absent - he had no say in any of this. Allay their doubts as well, not just mine, the Dowager is saying.

In the Losstarots’ case, they hadn’t known what to expect, but it certainly is not this. Isillud's eyes widen, his jaw slacks as he takes in the features of each and every servant. Joshua's mouth opens but no sound comes out, making him look like a goldfish with each false start. "Uhh…" 

But Isillud has not spent the last 5 years wandering the world in vain; he may still be adjusting to the inner workings of Ishgard's high society but he knows people, and people always need something to believe in.

You wish to make a show of this? So be it.

The painfully thin Elezen exhales, back straight, legs crossed. "Before I begin, I simply ask my captive audience that what will soon transpire does not leave the room." He puts a finger to his lips. "Ishgard is never ready for some secrets." Once he has the room's (silent, doubtful, confused) consensus, he removes his gloves with his teeth, because he knows he's absurdly beautiful when he does it. 

Joshua cringes at the scene, covering his face with his eyes while facing the door. He mentally calculates how long it will take the room to realise his disappearance; before he even begins the crow perches on his shoulder, claws digging through his jacket.

If Izzy stays, so do you, it says.

Isillud extends his hand to the crowd: a slender hand but with its fair share of cuts and creases, the sign of a life that hasn't been without its obstacles yet soft and graceful as a noble's hand should. He slowly sweeps his hand across the servants.

It stops in front of Yisa, not Rewelle.

"Perhaps, Miss Yisa, if you went first, you could assure Miss Rewelle of my intentions?" He drops his voice, soft and low as if he was coaxing a man to his bed. "You only need to hold my hand."

~*~

Tiny Yisa looks up at the very tall noble with his hand outstretched towards her. Well, all of them are tall, noble or not. But he seems taller, and from the way his green eyes glow (not even a Keeper’s eyes glow like that), and his voice calls like a turtledove to its mate… more curious than any other Ishgardian she’s met.

Her large eyes take him in, disconcertingly direct. Ishgardian servants don't look their masters so rudely in the face. But what she sees makes her blink slowly, consideringly. An ear flicks.

Then she turns from Isillud to look up at Mrs Marinterre and the rest of the staff. “He will help. There will be more danger if you all stay.”

“Yisa…” says the Hyur woman at the back, brow wrinkling in deep concern. 

The Miqo'te nods encouragingly. “Go. It will be fine.”

Mrs Marinterre looks at her thoughtfully, then at Rewelle. The black haired maid draws in a deep breath. “Please,” she says softly.

The housekeeper nods decisively, then curtsies towards the Losstarots. She turns around and begins gently shooing everyone out.

“But-!” 

“Come on, Lamb,” says one of the Elezen footmen, pushing his Hyur friend to the door. He stops to glance at the scene before him, the light gleaming on his glasses, before sweeping his still-protesting colleague out. Mrs Marinterre closes the door firmly.

In the much emptier room, Yisa looks back at Isillud. “I do not know your secrets, my lord, but I think you should love them better. Do you still wish me to go first?”

Neither brother knows what to say at this Keeper's ability to clear the room, in spite of the Dowager’s permissions, to boot.

Though Joshua looks at his brother for guidance, Isillud simply looks at the young woman in front of him, taken aback by her kindness. His hand falters as he says, "...thank you." Yet he still extends it to her. "Only if you wish it, otherwise it's best to proceed to Rewelle's."

Yisa nods, then very gently takes Rewelle’s hand from her shoulder. She squeezes it reassuringly.

“I am still here. I am well,” she says. “Be brave. Tell him what happened.”

Rewelle takes in yet another deep breath, then releases it. “Alright.”

Like an officiant at a wedding, Yisa softly places Rewelle’s hand into Isillud’s, then rests her own atop her friend’s. After an instant, she removes it. 

“I woke Yisa up earlier than she needed to,” begins the maid hesitantly. “I wanted her to go with me to the locksmith’s since everyone else was so busy. With my lady Viscount out of the city, we wanted to make the house ready for her return. The others didn’t wish me to go, but…” 

Rewelle’s worried brow now takes on a defiant turn. The delicate air of her previous expression disappears. “I didn’t want to be some… some bird in a cage. I didn’t want his lordship to win. So I insisted I go. Yisa was very kind to agree to come. Lamb kept arguing with me, kept saying to leave it to the next morning, but I wouldn’t listen.

“We got to the locksmith’s well enough. I even taught Yisa one of our children’s rhymes on the way. We said hello, and collected Mr Ofanleitasyn’s parcel. It was a small thing - just a lock and a key, wrapped in paper - so I slipped it into my pocket. The sun was going down, I remember.

“Then…” She pauses, swallows, continues. “Then, halfway on our walk back, Yisa said she could feel something strange.” Rewelle glances at the Miqo’te who nods solemnly, eyes still bright and gleaming. “She gets these… notions, when things aren’t right. When someone doesn’t mean well. So I said, hold my hand, and we’ll walk as quick as we can.

“Then two men. Two Elezens because they were too tall to be anything else. They stepped out right in front of us, blocking our way. Said… said nasty things about us.” Rewelle’s hand begins to tremble as her breathing picks up. “I told them to leave us alone, that we were from the Aubemarle house. They laughed. They laughed. Said that we could have been from Durendaire and it wouldn’t have mattered one whit.

“Then one of them said they knew the Viscount was away. That the old lady Aubemarle was just… was just…” She instinctively grips Isillud’s hand tighter, to try and stop shaking. Tears of anger pool in her eyes. “Was an old baggage with no power to protect us.”

Yisa reaches out to take her other hand, holding it tightly.

Rewelle, a little bolstered now, exhales. She continues. “Yisa told me there was another one of them behind us. So I told them they were rotten scum and their mothers would die of shame if they smelled their stench, and while they laughed, I threw the parcel at one of their heads.”

A very small, grim smile peeks out - the first time she’s done so since she entered the room. “I think I managed to get one of them, because one said something about their ‘bleedin’ eye’. While they did that, we ran sideways. I felt the one at the back lunge for us but we were too quick. At least… for a moment, we were too quick.”

The smile vanishes. “They grabbed us from behind. Called us all sorts of names. Dragged us into an alley… there was… a knife. Maybe two. They pointed it at us, said that if we didn’t want to be cut to ribbons and thrown out of the city into the abyss, we’d come along quiet-like.

“The knife frightened me. Greatly. I couldn’t move when I saw the blade. So I just kept quiet and nodded. But Yisa…” She looks at her friend, and tears roll down her cheeks. She sniffles, trying to breathe through the memory, but keeps going. 

“She leapt right at them, my lord. Like some sort of fearsome beast, screeching and yowling. She’s so small but so lightning fast, they couldn’t get at her properly. I don’t know how she did it, but she got all three men. She got them so fast in the dark.

“Yisa was the one who dragged me out. Told me to run and not stop. And we did. We ran all the way to the back door. I didn’t know…” Rewelle shakes her head. “I didn’t know Yisa had been so hurt until we reached home, and I saw all her blood on the floor.”

Rewelle stops; she raises her head to look up at Isillud, wordlessly pleading for him to say it is enough.

~*~

Isillud's eyes are shut tight, losing himself in the depths of her memory. Her narration fades into background noise as he retraces Rewelle's footsteps around Ishgard, looking up at the men who accosted them. 

A ruby clasp in one ear, too luxurious for a thug. 

He stares at the blade through her eyes, pointed at her neck: Small enough to be missed when one's frozen in fear yet large enough to show off. 

Show the mark to Joshua, he has an eye for brands. 

The thugs themselves have faces far too common in Ishgard, right down to the eye colour, but the clasp is as good a clue as any. His head bows lower as the memory goes on, fingers slowly wrapping around Rewelle's hand. 

Watch, don't look away as Ishgard did when your house fell.

The pool of blood jolts Isillud; he pulls away as if her touch is fire, his breath hitches from the rough return to reality and his eyes snap open at Rewelle's tear-streaked face silently pleading  to him. He looks at his bare hand, then slowly to her. It is hard to smile, not after what he has seen; he simply bows from his seat till his forehead touches his knees. "Thank you Miss Rewelle, you have been extremely helpful." He nods to Yisa, a silent cue that he's done.

Joshua - leaning against the couch the entire time - looks expectantly at Isillud. "There are things I'll need to show you when we get home," Isillud says, "I think you'll be able to recognize some if not all of them."

Rewelle, very surprised by the reaction but relieved that whatever strange thing the milord had been doing is over, steps back. She would have fallen if not for the steady hand of Yisa, who is staring at the lord, bent over double on the sofa. The other highborn, the younger one, seems at a loss for what to do himself apart from respond to his brother in the affirmative.

She looks back at Rewelle. “Are you alright?”

The Elezen hasn’t stopped shivering, but still answers, “Y, yes. I’m… fine. I will be.”

“Good. You will be.” Yisa pats her hand reassuringly and finally lets go. “Please will you go and find Mrs Marinterre? Tell her milord is finished here.” 

“Yisa?”

The Miqo’te smiles at last. “I will join you very shortly.” 

Rewelle nods. She curtsies to both the lords, murmurs a thank you and a good afternoon, and leaves quietly.

Yisa watches her go, then kneels in front of Isillud. The noble’s breathing is laboured, and she can see that he shakes. 

So in her calm, even voice, she asks very gently, like someone trying to lead an injured animal out from wherever it has curled itself up in: “Milord, I know this is not done in Ishgard. But I am not Ishgardian. Would you let me ask Menphina for her blessing for your trials?” 

Isillud busies himself by putting on his gloves, clasping his hands together in an effort to stop the shaking. He ponders over Yisa's offer, looking over her features for… what, he does not know. Her offer is plain yet he knows many would politely decline for the Fury's blessing is more than sufficient. Men have triumphed over dragons with it alone, after all.

And yet he remembers when he knew the Fury was no longer enough.

He smiles gently, nodding once. "That is very kind of you, thank you."

Yisa stands, raises one small hand as if in benediction. She shuts her own eyes now, and begins to murmur. 

It is not in Common nor Ishgardian, but something else entirely - the sounds wash over each other, syllable upon syllable brushing each other gently, like the susurration of long grass swept by wind under the pale light of a full moon. It is calming, and soft, and somehow, strangely cooling, even in the warm drawing room.

There may, or may not, be a faint, thin layer of frost surrounding Joshua, Will and Isillud as Yisa prays. It disappears as soon as one blinks.

The blessing is not long. She ends with ‘Menphina’, then reopens her eyes. Their luminosity seems to have increased as she smiles. “You too are kind, milord, to accept a servant’s small prayer, and not to Halone the Fury at that.”

“The Fury is one of the Twelve. She would not begrudge a prayer from her kin.” It is curious how the chill in his hands is not like the Ishgardian cold, but a soothing breeze to calm his heart.

A touch of approval appears in Yisa's expression. “Menphina the Lover sees fit to bless you, for you love. Too hard sometimes, She says, but you love, all the same.” She steps back, and curtsies. “Thank you both, milords. May your hunt be courageous, your prey worthy.”

"Thank you," Isillud says quietly as she leaves, her white tail brushing the door before it closes.

The crow appears to examine itself, poking its head beneath its wings and waddling in a circle shaking imaginary frost off its tail. Joshua, however, experiences none of it, instead his mind drifts to Zeir. Is she well? Has she returned to the Shroud?  He bites his lower lip. Will I ever have the chance to make up for what I did?

"Joshua."

The boy snaps back to reality. Isillud straightens his coat, standing by his side. "Let us say our farewells to the Dowager and be on our way. We have tough work ahead."

~*~

Against expectation, the lords Losstarot needn’t leave the room to find her ladyship. The Dowager herself comes in not long after Yisa’s departure - no doubt informed by the able Mrs Marinterre that the lords have completed their questioning - and unlike earlier, quite alone. Her walking stick is an able assistant as she moves into the room, quicker than people usually imagine. 

She takes her place in a chair this time, holding onto her cane. There is no preamble whatsoever, no reference to, much less apology for, the peculiar ill-discipline of her staff, and absolutely, no mention of Yisa’s oddness.

“So gentlemen, do you believe the noble name of Gaussain has been dragged into this sordid affair, or is it merely the ramblings of an old woman?”

"There seem to be clues pointing to it - a ruby earring and a blade. For a thug to brazenly wear a ruby in Ishgard knowing the implications means they must know the Gaussains in some form," Isillud explains. "Do you know if they have any such associations, or employ a certain group of people?"

Despite herself, and the fact that the young lord has brought up rubies - something the Gaussains have worked for years to be associated with - the Dowager raises an eyebrow. “You flatter me by thinking one of my age would be privy to the activities and agendas of men three times younger than myself.”

Seeing Joshua begin to open his mouth, she waves a dismissive hand - a little jest, in the only way the Dowager knows how.  

She looks away to stare at the fire, consulting memories of conversations and gossip that might be of use. 

At last, she says. “I have only little pieces of knowledge, my lord. I beg your indulgence if these are irrelevant to your efforts.

“First: House Gaussain, you may know, trades in bladed and edged weapons, but I do not place confidence in that regard. Their reach is long established, and far - most in the Pillars, and perhaps even the Brume, could have a Gaussain dagger. I have heard they were recently trying to reach some form of understanding with House Haillenarte regarding firearms, but that might be unimportant. 

“Second: among Lord Tramault’s favourite subjects is his family’s rubies. Oudine had been at a meeting once where he claimed their exclusivity and rarity were unmatched in this city. That their quality and cut could only be found in a place that knew gemstones just as Ishgard knew ice and snow.” Her voice flattens when she adds, “Lord Tramault’s love of the irritatingly dramatic is second only to his love of deriding Ishgard.”

She huffs, then continues. “And third: Lady Hailleone was lamenting how her younger grandsons had been frequenting a most unsuitable establishment. It was not enough that the place exposed her darlings to unsavoury dealings, but to be situated within sight of St Reymanaud's Cathedral was practically blasphemy.”

The Dowager looks up at them expectantly. “Those grandsons of hers are frequently seen in Lord Ajax's company. I shouldn't doubt that two noblemen of your stature will be able to locate the place, and persuade people to talk.”

Then her brows furrow in an actual confused expression. “Thugs wearing rubies in the Pillars? How stupid could they be?”

Joshua files the information in his head for further use, especially of House Gaussain's arms dealings. "The lure of luxury is often irresistible, Viscountess. Give a man or woman a free bauble and if it matches their eyes they'll wear it for life." He snorts derisively at his own opinion, one seemingly learned from experience. “Also, why does Lord Tramault still stay in Ishgard if he hates it so much? A man of his wealth could easily settle well in Ul'dah."

Isillud's ears have perked at the mention of grandsons. "An unsuitable establishment, you say? Tell me more."

While Joshua rolls his eyes, the Dowager holds back a remark - not a thing she's accustomed to, so it annoys her somewhat - about how Isillud seems rather too eager to keep the rumours regarding him much too alive. They are here to do her a favour, and what is more, have clearly accomplished more in one hour than she could have done in a day. So she should at least try to be as helpful as she can bring herself to be.

She replies to Joshua instead. “Spoken like one older than his years.” She shifts her weight, leaning a little bit more on her cane. “There has been a House Gaussain in Ishgard for as long as memory holds. I can only assume that for all his contempt, the respect and regard given to a house that has withstood so much is still an incentive to stay.”

Then she eyes Isillud, whose own green eyes have sparked a little more awake, still inexplicably waiting for her to come back to his question. 

“Young man, I have a feeling you can tell me far more about unsuitability. I ask you to remember your health at the very least. I do not know where this place is; perhaps one of my servants might have an idea. If my son were here, no doubt he’d be able to even tell you the number of bricks used to build it.”

She pauses a moment, then evidently reaches some decision within herself, because her indignation has not left her body nor her mind. It hasn’t left since she was told what had happened the night before.

“Let me be blunt, my lords. I myself am mother to a rascal and a wretch, so I am peculiarly not unaware ofcertain liberties men will take. However, there are rakes, and there are degenerates.” 

She glares at the fire as she speaks, perhaps a habit when there is no justifiable target to direct her anger towards. “Remont does not press attention on maids who do not desire it. He has flaws aplenty - the stubborn and deliberate inability to accept a refusal is not among them. Ajax, on the other hand, has no such honour. I am sure you have heard any amount of gossip regarding his… proclivities. No doubt the side effects of his selfishness, left to their own devices without succour or recourse, are pitter pattering around the Brume. But he is ever shielded, for he is a Gaussain.”

She is a little too far from the hearth for the firelight to fall on her face, but it does not appear necessary. Fury is what lights her eyes, as it had done earlier.

“I have played this game too long not to predict the outcome if I did what I ought. Whether it is I or Oudine who speaks, the High Houses will not be of help, not for the likes of a lowborn servant or a foreign Miqo’te. They will be of even less help if House Gaussain is involved.

“If you manage to find evidence, make it ironclad, unless you wish to see exactly how unforgiving Lord Tramault is when it comes to what he would call slander. Even if his youngest is an acknowledged libertine, Rewelle remains physically unharmed. There will not be a case to make in his eyes; there will be reprisals. One false step, and both Aubemarle and Losstarot will pay dearly.”

She looks up at the Losstarots finally, stern and determined. 

“But some devil drew blades on unarmed, untrained girls. He cannot be allowed to escape unscathed.”

Joshua puffs his chest at the Dowager's praise, recognition he has long sought to hear. Returning to Ishgard had indeed been the right choice.

"Ajax may be well-protected, Viscountess, but whether all his hirelings are is another matter," is Isillud’s comment.

Joshua looks at his brother. "You suggest a warning?"

"Provided we find the right men." Isillud pats his crow’s head, which it uses to nuzzle his hand. "We're looking for someone who has a scratched eye and a ruby earring."

"Doubtful Ajax will have them remove it, and it's probably a very loyal one." Joshua ponders briefly. "So they must come to us."

It is hard to tell whether Isillud is smiling at his crow or because he has a plan. "A shame we are very decent, lawful, upstanding young men."

Joshua seems to agree. "We'll talk to your servants about the place, the sooner we begin the less people will notice." He bows and turns on his heel to the door.

Isillud follows after taking a few seconds to reassure the Dowager. "We shall see that justice is served. Fury keep you, Viscountess."

“And the same to you both,” says the Dowager, inclining her head. The rage has simmered down palpably. She is the Dowager Viscountess again, at home in her drawing room without care. “I shall await news, good or otherwise.”

She waits an extra minute after they leave. Only then does she allow herself to sigh out loud, looking up at the ceiling. 

“Vouloix my love, put in a word with the Fury if you please. Your daughter has already been through much - surely you'll not see her house endure any more trouble.”

She pauses as if awaiting an answer, but of course, none arrives.

Outside, Marceaux is ready and waiting. His expression is far less poker faced than before, replaced instead with some concern, and mostly eagerness to help. It is also his way of apology for the previous rudeness of his subordinates, despite the Dowager's sanctioning their actions.

He bows to the brothers. “Milady the Viscountess has instructed us all to be at my lordships’ service. If there is anything any of us may assist with, I beg milords to allow us to do so.”

Isillud Losstarot demonstrates that he CAN have restraint, surprisingly, when he speaks to Marceaux. "Firstly, I hear the Gaussains place much pride in their rubies. Please send a sample to the house - preferably with some eclairs." And with a straight face too. "Secondly, include the address of the place Lady Hailleone's grandsons frequent, I suspect we may find our culprits there if not the Brume."

He bows politely to the older man. "I shall inform you anon if we require a third request. We thank you for your assistance."

The Losstarots make their due exit, climbing into their carriage. Joshua waits for it to move before he speaks. "You're trying to throw spies off with the eclairs, but you won't survive a bar fight."

"Neither can you," Isillud retorts. 

"Hmph." The youth sulks, watching House Aubemarle shrink in the distance.

Isillud steeples his fingers, watching his brother through them. "We're going to tell them a story instead."

"Puh-lease," Joshua snorts. "Everyone knows how close we are with the Viscountess."

"Which makes a betrayal even more irresistible, doesn't it?"

Joshua whips back to his brother. The initial reaction is of shock and horror. It freezes, then softens. "Ah."

Isillud's eyes seem luminous in the darkened carriage without the sun shining in from its curtained windows. "Stay home and wait for the package; be ready to receive my call."

"I thought you'd send me to the Brume."

"No, it's better if we look even more fractured than we already are."

"I beg of you, don't suck cocks until it's done."

"No guarantees."

~*~

Barely an hour later, a snow white Chocobo arrives at the front of the house of the Losstarots. Its tall rider alights swiftly, secures the bird to a post and walks up to the door. A box wrapped in plain brown paper hangs from a handle made of securely-tied twine in his hand.    

Two polite knocks elicit the presence of good Ser Drouhont at the door. With a quick smile, the blonde rider of the Chocobo presents the Dowager Viscountess’ compliments to the lords Losstarot, with a token. A sense of deja vu hangs in the air as the parcel is delivered.

The rider bows, bids Ser Drouhont a good afternoon and as quickly as he arrived, goes on his way.

Within the privacy of the house, when the paper is inevitably cut away, and the twine kept safely, half a dozen golden-brown muffins greet the eye. They're still warm and emit a pleasant aroma of honey and vanilla.

Tucked between the muffins on the left is a tiny thing wrapped in white crepe: a thinly wrought necklace. Nothing any highborn Ishgardian would bother with, but the very slim chain isn't remarkable. It is the simple, rather small teardrop of a pendant, gleaming a clear blood red under the light, that explains its inclusion in the box. 

Meanwhile, a twice-folded piece of paper sits atop the muffins on the right, bearing a message in unfamiliar handwriting:

‘Eclairs would take too long, so Mr Ofanleitasyn asks pardon for only being able to make honey muffins. Her ladyship warns that the jewel on the necklace is suspected to be Gaussain since it was the one given to Rewelle, but it is not certain. Her ladyship - in her words - has never been tempting enough to receive as precious a gift as a Gaussain ruby. 

Lady Hailleone de Chaunollet had been rather misdirected, perhaps deliberately. Find Journey’s End, a merchant of potions towards the back of the Crozier. Give the proprietor 3000 gil, and ask for a bottle of Lovers Meeting. They will grant you access to the bar beneath.

Good hunting to you all.’

-

To be continued

[bi-bard]

The Look - Jack Barber Imagine [Downton Abbey: A New Era]

Title: The Look

Pairing: Jack Barber X Reader

Word Count: 1,161 words

Warning(s): jealousy, insecurities

Summary: Jack invites (Y/n) out to visit the set of his new film. (Y/n) was more than excited to see a film set outside of a studio. However, some of said excitement is squashed once they catch sight of Jack's interactions with Lady Mary Talbot.

Author's Note: First of all, Mary's a better woman than me. Second of all, don't say I don't do anything for you people (I am still looking at that post about all those Hugh Dancy characters, by the way).

--------------------

When Jack first invited me to visit the set of his new film, I was hesitant.

I had no desire to be seen as some kind of distraction from the project.

But his insistence seemed to calm some of my anxieties. I finally agreed. We arranged for me to visit for a short portion of the time. A matter of days, truly.

It did bring me some comfort to know that I would not have to go as long as I expected without seeing him.

Downton was even grander than I had been expecting. I remember just staring up at the building with nothing, but shock written on my face.

"(Y/n)!"

I pulled my eyes away from the building when I heard my name being called.

"Jack," I said happily, jogging over to him.

He pulled me into a tight hug immediately. "Oh, I am so happy that you made it."

"So am I," I leaned back to look at Downton again. "This place doesn't quite feel real."

"I am barely starting to accept it myself," he chuckled. "Come on, I'll show you where we're filming."

Jack's hand was placed on my back as he guided me into the grand building.

I met so many people that it felt like names were falling out of some kind of cup in my head. I didn't know that my mind could feel like it was completely overflowing.

It was a gorgeous place.

The people were kind.

The film crew itself felt like they were surrounded by this pristine bubble. If you got too close, then you would pop that bubble and ruin the illusion. People on display like museum exhibits.

No one quite caught my attention like Lady Mary.

She was kind and clever. I didn't know much about her beyond that. We had only interacted a few times between scenes being filmed.

Those moments in between were enough for my mind to play tricks on itself.

I would watch Jack and Mary talk between scenes. She seemed to always be the first to help when things went wrong. She carried herself with this strange mix of humbleness, yet some self-awareness of her status and power in the current situation.

Jack just had this... look. I couldn't describe it beyond that. It was just a look. But it was enough for me to be uneasy.

Watching them interact made my stomach churn. I felt my palms sweating and my face warming up out of some kind of anger or embarrassment. I wasn't sure which one.

I tried to ignore it.

Jack and I had been together long enough for me to completely trust him. If he was trying to keep something from me or if he were truly questioning his feelings for me, then I would have liked to believe that he wouldn't insist that I come to visit.

I thought I had done well. I thought that I managed to hide my thoughts and feelings behind a wall of kind grins and short answers.

I truly had no indication that I had been the cause of any worry until Jack asked if he could speak with me.

"Of course," I answered. "What do you-"

"Not here," he said quietly. "In private."

I hesitated for a moment before nodding and following him into some room away from the others.

"What is it," I asked when the door closed behind us.

"Is something wrong?" he replied.

I shook my head. "No, of course not."

I wanted to believe that I had done a better job hiding my thoughts. I never thought that I was one to allow my feelings to be easily recognized. Granted, Jack always seemed to see through whatever disguise that I attempted to use.

"(Y/n)," he said quietly. He stepped forward before reaching out and taking my hand. "I'm sorry, but we have been together long enough for me to know when something is upsetting you."

I took a deep breath, but I couldn't bring myself to admit to what I had been thinking. It all felt so ridiculous when I thought about speaking about it.

"Darling...," Jack's voice dropped to a whisper as he stepped even closer. "Please..."

"You and Lady Mary seem... very close," I admitted. My face warmed up as embarrassment started to take over. "I feel like I'm watching you look at her the same way that people told me you looked at me."

I looked away, only feeling more embarrassed by the way Jack was looking at me.

"(Y/n)," he spoke up after a moment. "Please, look at me."

I took a deep breath before looking at him.

"I had no idea that you were uncomfortable with what I had done," he explained. "That may very well be my own fault. But I can promise that there is nothing between Lady Mary and me."

I felt the beginning of a soft smile forming at the corner of my lips. I would always trust him. Perhaps that could have been dangerous, but I would never have the heart to care about such a thing.

"You are the only one that I have ever had eyes for," he continued. "That 'way' people have said I look at you has never changed and has never been pointed at another being. It never will. I love you."

My smile formed fully at the sentiment. I still felt ridiculous for worrying, but now that was met with a sense of gratitude. How had I been so fortunate to find a man that could share such love with no hesitation?

"I love you too," I mumbled after a moment. "I'm so sorry. I should have come to you the moment these feelings surfaced. I never meant to pull you from your work by worrying about me."

"I believe I made the choice to worry about you long before I made the choice to make films," he replied. His free hand cupped the side of my face. "You will always be my first priority."

I leaned in and pecked his lips quickly. "You should get back to your film."

"I am going to see if I can find a place for us to share an evening away from the others," Jack said. "We both have earned a night to ourselves."

"That would be wonderful, Jack."

His smile only grew more as he admired me for a moment.

That was the first time I felt like I could truly see it. The way he looked at me. That small glint in his eye. I felt my face warming up under his gaze.

"Go," I pushed on his shoulder playfully.

He chuckled, kissing me again before going to head back out to work on the film.

I laughed a bit at him.

He was the best thing I had been lucky enough to have in my life.

And now I could see that he could have very well thought the very same way about me.

--------------------

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[muse-oleum]

Blind Dates OC Challenge: Lady Victoria Crawley

Fandoms: Downton Abbey/Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries

Time period: 1920s/30s

Face claim: Elisa Cifuentes in Las Chicas del Cable

So, hum, I haven't written on here in a veryyyy long time, forgive my rustiness. I've been toying with an idea for a crossover between Downton Abbey and Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries ever since I first watched the shows, because it just makes sense lol. This is my introduction to Lady Victoria Crawley, fourth and last child of Lord and Lady Grantham.

I wanted to participate in @mercurygray 's Blind Dates OC challenge, and thought it would be the perfect opportunity for me to write something *not* academia related. I hope you enjoy this first snippet of Victoria and perhaps there shall be more...

Victoria missed the Antipodes. She missed Christmas in the sun, the hustle and bustle of the city, the constant activity she had known for the past two years, living far away from home and yet as alive as she had ever felt. But she missed her friends the most.

She missed Phryne’s laugh and Dot’s sweet smile; she missed Jack’s skepticism and Hugh’s clumsiness, and even her two favorite commies had found a place in her heart, though she would deny it if anyone asked. They would happily throttle her if they ever heard her use that word, but she couldn’t help it, annoying them tickled her. 

But most of all she missed Mac. 

Mac and her stern attitude hiding a softness that few people ever truly got to witness. Mac and her sardonic replies to Phryne’s less than stellar ideas—and there had been many; how she’d survived this far, she’d never understand. Mac and the way she smiled softly just for her, even when she thought Victoria couldn’t see. 

She missed that smile most of all. 

Here, in England, it was so much harder to let herself truly be. But with Mac, tentatively at first, and then more fully once they’d both understood the coast was clear, that they would be safe with each other, it had been different. With her almost two decades more of experience, Mac had been a friend, at first, someone whom she could trust with her most damning secret, before it had morphed into something more. 

And just as quickly, Victoria had been called back to England, her grand-mother on her deathbed, asking for her. She hadn’t seen her once in the last two years, not since she’d left Downton behind after yet another row with her father, neither willing to bend before she’d decided to break instead. But the Dowager Lady Grantham was not someone to be refused and when she had demanded of her youngest grand-daughter that she should write to her, Victoria had made a half-hearted promise that she would. 

She regretted not keeping it, now. 

1928 was proving a difficult year for her family. Between her grand-mother’s illness, her mother’s tiredness (a false alarm, thankfully) and her own problems to face, returning to Downton in mourning had not been something to look forward to. She had left angry and she'd returned apprehensive. 

Mac would have helped, but she could hardly bring her to England while her family mourned yet another passing. She had offered, of course, wanting to be there for her as Victoria had been in the past, insisting that she could take a room at the Grantham Arms, that no one would be the wiser… But it was a lie and they both knew it. Lying, after all, was an art they had mastered; anyone in their position had to be a damn good liar in order to survive. 

And now, as she sat in the library, alone with the fire cracking in the grate, the quiet of the Abbey playing with her nerves, she wondered why she’d come home at all. And could she still call it home? It wasn’t anymore, not really. Home was with Phryne and Mr Butler, waiting for the next case to drop so they could make sure to crash down at the station, taking perverse pleasure in eviscerating Jack’s well-laid plans in moves that would have had her parents tying themselves into knots. He complained—a lot—but she knew he secretly loved it. 

She also knew that he was not so secretly half in love with Phryne, but she had an inkling that he’d rather be caught dead than admitting it. So she hadn’t pushed… yet. 

The door to the library opened, pulling her back to the present. 

“I thought I’d find you in here,” Edith said, closing the door softly behind her. 

Once upon a time, if someone had asked her which of her three elder sisters she’d most looked up to in her youth, she would have said Sybil. But after her death, she had grown closer to Edith, finding a source of comfort in her sister’s embrace, and amusement at the shrewdness she so easily disguised as passiveness. She had admired that; her ability to hide what she was feeling almost to the point of quasi-invisibility. A wallflower, that’s what Mary had called her, once, when she was feeling particularly vindictive. 

Edith may look like a flower, with her honey-blonde hair with a dash of red, which they’d both inherited from their father, her pink lips and beautiful green eyes, but she could be a thorny one too, and Mary often seemed to forget that. Victoria, on the other hand, had always been much quieter than either of her dark-haired sisters, trying to find her place as the youngest of four—and the disappointment of everybody’s hopes. But she and Edith were alike, and it had only become more apparent as they grew from girlhood to womanhood. 

Perhaps because of the age difference between Mary and herself, Victoria had never found herself on the cutting edge of her eldest sister’s sharp wit. If anything, she suspected that Mary was quite fond of her, if a little distant, as was natural for an eldest facing much larger troubles than the rearing of her littlest sister. While their twelve years difference had put a certain distance between Mary and herself, Edith and Sybil had loved to play with her, and, when the time came, taught her much more than their mother when it came to matters of the heart. And she'd learnt much.

Or at least as much as she could learn from two sisters for whom there had never been the slightest doubt that they would marry a man.

In truth, if Victoria thought long and hard about it, she remembered certain looks and allusions that Sybil had dropped, which made her think that perhaps she had known, just a bit, what her little sister was only just discovering. But then she'd died and left a gaping hole in their family that would never truly heal. 

But Edith, Victoria thought, would understand. Edith, she could tell, one day. 

“I’m very predictable,” she answered, smiling, laying her long-forgotten book on her lap. 

Her sister threw her a disbelieving look. “I wouldn’t say that,” Edith said, sitting down on the sofa next to her. “I still remember the shock on Mama’s face when you hurled yourself out of the door two years ago. Personally, I applauded you.”

“Of course you did,” she laughed, rolling her eyes. 

They fell silent, Edith lost in contemplation of the fire and Victoria pondering the qualities of sisters. On the tea table, a picture of her grandmother, all blonde curls and so young, taunted her. She quickly averted her eyes, unsettled by the clear blue gaze of a woman who was not here to scold her anymore. She noticed her sister looking at her, her eyes saddened by their recent loss but heavy with something else.

“There’s something I’d like to tell you.”

Victoria looked up from the cover of her book which she’d been fingering absent-mindedly, the silence between them natural enough that she had almost forgotten her sister’s presence. 

“It’s about Marigold.”

[throppelphaba]

Hi Liz! I finally caught up on s3 of sanditon. So much happened!! What are your thoughts on it?

ty for asking!!! lengthy observations here and under the cut

yesss! so my favorite observation someone had (on fb iirc) was that is was kind of a regency "love actually"? so many love stories, big and small, grand and humble. i love that. i think the absolute highlights was the montrose kids (harry + arthur too), georgiana and her mother, lady susan and samuel. tbh i like heybourne, they are cute, but they didn't intrigue me as much as the other couples. i do get chills at both cliffside scenes but the writing on colbourne was somewhat up and down for me. however, rewatching s1, i realize sidney pinged dramatically between extremely angry and being in love. he had great moments, "my truest self," the boat conversation, and really, really bad moments (ep 1 ballroom yelling, i think he yelled at charlotte aggressively in the boarding house where g lives, being a brothel patron [yike]). colbourne had great moments, cliffside confessions, trying to get her back in s2, developing into a more patient father, and bad moments, yelling at her after the garden party, being cold to his child and ward, etc. so i can't be an unalloyed devotee to either leading man. samuel, however, has never done anything wrong in his life ever!!!! that man has humor, wit, education, a career, but knows how to party down and flirt artfully with a high ranking courtier.

other highlights of the season:

miss hankins romcom heroine era is NOW

lady montrose was a FANTASTIC gentrified mrs bennet

the use of "gallows" to convey the risks of same sex love at the time was fantastic, they did not beat us over the head with it like some shows (fucking downton abbey). harry was so wonderful and charming and i was surprised because the preview pictures of the montroses didn't encourage me. i hate when shows introduce new characters but don't integrate them well or support them with good writing, but they were a fantastic contribution to existing characters and plots.

edwarddddd. ok augward is... yike. and him using wentworth's "you pierce my soul" was slightly yike. but jack fox is my legit show crush and i could watch him play anything, but villain-heroine is everything. eloise was INCREDIBLE during the scene where edward broke her heart, what a talent that young woman is!

lady denham romcom era!!! i love mr pryce, i also noted he tried to woo her with buggy rides which i HOPE is a throwback to esther and babbington with carriage rides

tom's trumpesque ruthless developer era was a lot but i know the narrative framework needs a 'villain' in every storyline. my only regret is it wasn't revealed mary was faking her illness to troll tom.

the interior set of g's party was EXQUISITE

some folks on fb wanted lockhart redeemed. hard no for me due to the racism, so i was glad to see him go full villainy, and his entrance was serving cruella (plus the fun little dandy cane was menacing until it was shown he didn't need it by skipping down the steps)

lady susan!!!!!! sophie winkleman being both minor british royalty AND a consummate actress is so charming to me. i was so glad to see that character developed instead of retaining the fairy godmother quality from s1 that didn't really show WHY she was drawn to charlotte.

the end was serving pure sense & sensibility with the confusion over engagements. the s&s ending is one of my faves of all time.

very interesting cinematography this season -- many beautiful shots from the floor up at g entering a room, behind people's heads

i loved to see the tea room feature heavily again, i love a good tea room

the show was kinda bold this season in a few ways: frank portrayal of racist and misogynist tropes of black women as hypersexual, seducing white men etc; the sidney slander during the trial dflkshfh; charlotte kissing colbourne whilst engaged

OTIS HEA. i liked him in s1 and thought they clearly showed his heart was true but behavior foolhardy. the actor looked so young in s1 but hottttt in s3.

so the homages. i was less a fan of the overt line borrowings ("you have bewitched me") and more a fan of storylines being borrowed (colbourne rescuing georgiana a la darcy rescuing lydia). i am not mad about it but it did take me out of the scenes somewhat, although i recognize it was fully intentional and meant to be a valentine to period drama devotess.

i take some issue with edward's storyline in s3 after going SO dark in s2. but i'm willing to have selective memory because i'm the jack fox fan of all time

ok last thing - i bought a sanditon prop from a dealer/collector. he has a whole box of them and i'm gonna help him index them and make sure real fans (instead of resellers) are able to have a chance at getting one. it's a prize ribbon from the sandcastle contest in s1 held by tom (kris marshall). i framed it with my pop's help. :)

ty for asking and sorry for writing so much!

[laresearchette]

Friday, February 10, 2023 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: DEAR EDWARD (Apple TV +) PINECONE & PONY (Apple TV +) AT MIDNIGHT (Paramount +) MEET ME IN PARIS (The Roku Channel) JOE BOB'S VICIOUS VEGAS VALENTINE (Shudder) MARVEL'S MOON GIRL AND DEVIL DINOSAUR (Disney Channel Canada) 8:0pm WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT? SPINNING OUT OF CONTROL (TBD - Lifetime Canada)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

AMAZON PRIME CANADA CLARKSON’S FARM (Season 2) FARZI FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY MONTANA STORY PALAVA SOMEBODY I USED TO KNOW

CBC GEM GHOSTS (Season 4) THE LAST BLACK MAN IN SAN FRANCISCO

CRAVE TV DOWNTON ABBEY: A NEW ERA GOOD NEIGHBORS THE GRAND SEDUCTION INTO THE FOREST LEAP YEAR LET ME IN LEVERAGE: REDEMPTION (Season 2) MACK & RITA MADEA’S WITNESS PROTECTION MEAN DREAMS MEN WITH BROOMS MILTON’S SECRET MR. A & MR. M: THE STORY OF A&M RECORDS (Episodes 1-2) MY AWKWARD SEXUAL ADVENTURE PLEASURE STEPHEN COLBERT PRESENTS TOONING OUT THE NEWS (Season 1) THE SWEARING JAR TRANSPLANT (Season 3) TYLER PERRY’S A MADEA CHRISTMAS TYLER PERRY’S BOO 2! A MADEA HALLOWEEN

DISNEY + STAR CROCODILES REVEALED DUG DAYS: CARL’S DATE MARVEL STUDIOS LEGENDS (Season 2 premiere) WINNIE THE POOH: A VALENTINE FOR YOU

NETFLIX CANADA 10 DAYS OF A GOOD MAN THE FLASH (Season 9 Premiere) FORGETTING SARAH MARSHALL LOVE ACTUALLY LOVE IS BLIND: AFTER THE ALTAR (Season 3) LOVE TO HATE YOU YOUR PLACE OR MINE

NHL HOCKEY (SN) 7:00pm: Kraken vs. Rangers (TSN4) 7:00pm: Leafs vs. Blue Jackets (SN) 10:00pm: Penguins vs. Ducks

NBA BASKETBALL   (SN Now) 7:00pm: Knicks vs. 76ers (SN1) 7:30pm: Jazz vs. Raptors (TSN2/TSN3/TSN4/TSN5) 8:00pm: Timberwolves vs. Grizzlies (SN1) 10:00pm: Mavericks vs. Kings (TSN2) 10:30pm: Bucks vs. Clippers

MARKETPLACE (CBC) 8:00pm: What the Fee?: Tackling three fees everyone hates: From sneaky add-ons to bills, to gift cards that decline in value and a restaurant with a charge many diners find distasteful; revealing the worst offenders and seeking answers from those behind the big bills.

THE LOVE CLUB: NICOLE (W Network) 8:00pm: At a New Year's Eve college party, four women make a vow to call on one another if they're ever in a romantic crisis. Ten years later, they find themselves resurrecting their love club as each searches for eternal happiness.

GWEN SHAMBLIN: STARVING FOR SALVATION (CTV Life) 8:00pm: Gwen Shamblin founds a Christian-based diet program, preaching the power of prayer for weight loss. Accumulating power and money as a larger-than-life public persona with dramatically teased hair, her reign comes to a tragic end in 2021.

STUFF THE BRITISH STOLE (CBC) 8:30pm: In the wake of a rebellion by Chinese martial artists against foreign military forces, a golden warrior statue looted by British colonial forces ends up in Australia.

NLL LACROSSE (TSN/TSN3) 9:00pm: Rush vs. Roughnecks

THE NATURE OF THINGS (CBC) 9:00pm: Walking with Ancients: New archaeological discoveries are challenging the understanding of when the first people arrived in North America, rewriting the human story.

TITANIC: 25 YEARS LATER WITH JAMES CAMERON (Nat Geo Canada) 9:00pm: Cameron debunks myths about the shipwreck and whether Jack could have survived.

THE SPENCER SISTERS (CTV) 9:00pm (NEW DAY AND TIME): When Darby's friend Kaia is wrongfully accused of plagiarism, Darby and Victoria must put aside their differences and investigate, uncovering a wide-ranging scandal.

THE SWEARING JAR (Crave) 9:00pm: Carey and Simon, an otherwise perfect couple, try to kick their swearing habit before their baby arrives.

CRIME BEAT (Global) 10:00pm: A Monster in Uniform Part 2: When the key suspect in a series of assaults and murders is brought in for questioning, a cat and mouse game unfolds in the interview room and ultimately leads to a shocking confession from a man leading a secret double life.

BOBBI KRISTINA BROWN: HER FRIENDS SPEAK (Super Channel Fuse) 10:00pm:  Bobbi Kristina Brown was born into a life of glitz, glamour, celebrity status, and all the substance abuse issues that come along with it. Exposed at an early age to living life in the fast lane, she was put on a fast track to becoming famous.

THE GOOD FATHER: THE MARTIN MACNEILL STORY (CTV Life) 12:00am:  Weeks after his wife's suspicious death, Dr. Martin MacNeill moves in his mistress under the guise of a live-in nanny. Shocked by her father's actions, his daughter begins to question everything she's known about him while uncovering a web of lies.

HARLEY QUINN: A VERY PROBLEMATIC VALENTINE'S DAY SPECIAL (adult swim) 12:30am:  Harley and Ivy celebrate their very first Valentine's Day together.

[seoul-bros]

Me, Myself and V: Veautiful Days

I am probably, no, let's say definitely, overthinking things again, but I'm curious what time period Tae is going for with his photofolio.

The equestrian look seems more, early 19th century, more Bridgeton than Downton Abbey.

But the books and travel trunks are more Grand Tour with Baedeker Guide in hand which give it a Room with a View, early 1900s kind of vibe although obviously not with that watch.

And the bed, okay no idea, I'm just worried about what is going to happen when it starts raining

Post Date: 06/12/2022

[everythingcanadian]

Windswept

Pairing: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent

Rating: G

No Warnings

Summary:

1932, Jimmy has a reason for October to be his favourite. Autumn is no longer so bleak or cold for him.

Day 12 of promptober: Favourite. This follows the Chapter titled: Warm Beige, Beer Mugs, and Quiet Comfort in my fic "Thommy, a storybook of mini fic " Link below if you want to read. I don't think you need to to get this. If you want to read the fic that goes before this here is the link. If not this should read fine on it's own.

AO3 Portal

Halloween was something Jimmy enjoyed immensely. He enjoyed the haunts and spooks and terror that bleed from stories to streets. The children he now taught were trying to scare each other or even him. The professors he had been taught by in years previous would try to wind up the students during October. He had seen plenty of costumes and decorations. He loved it. Had spent last Halloween up at the big house with Thomas and Daisy and much of the downstairs staff. He was somewhat welcomed back and handed a mug of spiced tea along with dinner. It was a special treat to enjoy the spookiest night of the year with old and new friends. 

 What he didn’t enjoy was the days leading up to it. The cold weather. The bite of the wind and the beginnings of jack frost coming in after summer had fled for the fall. The leaves that he loved to crunch under foot became slippery and flat. The vibrant colours going dull and brown when the rain washed all the life out of the village. When the sun stopped spending more time out and about and instead retreated to let his world go dull and dark. 

In previous years he had been alone in his bed for the most part, left to shiver and bemoan the colder mornings where his floor was as frigid as the earth outside the place he was staying in at the time. 

Now however, he had a lover to help warm the sheets with him. A lover whose body was soft and plump and oh so warm . A personal furnace for Jimmy to snuggle up to and press his nose against where shoulder met neck. Tangling warm calves and ankles with his chilled toes. A soft protest coming from behind red lips. Following it, deep inside a soft and hirsute chest, was a groan that came with waking. A stretch of limbs not far behind. And finally, the finale to the dance of becoming conscious, a lovely smile and barely open grey eyes. Stale and bad breath foreshadowing a sweet kiss. A grunt to lean over to the bedside table and look at the time.

Their cottage was still bathed in darkness. Dawn yet to break over their roof. Their room wouldn’t see proper sunlight until midday. Jimmy’s old room, the one he had taken when he had first moved back to Downton, would be the first room to get a lick of sun as it edged up over the horizon. 

Jimmy didn’t have work on a Sunday morning. The children he taught would be getting dressed for church in a little while. But he didn’t have to go anywhere this morning. Instead he pulled himself closer to his lover and sighed a great sigh as he settled back in for a snooze. 

Thomas spoke up softly. Voice just a whisper. Eyes closed again after looking at his watch. “We have hours yet, love. S’only four thirty. Don’t need t’be at the grand house ‘till noon.” Thomas reached out under the sheets and wrapped Jimmy up in his arm, letting Jimmy tuck himself under his chin. His sleep heavy words dragging them back under the blanket of sleep.

The cold wind that shook the trees clean of leaves made a racket outside their window. The rattle of the glass didn’t bother Thomas anymore. The first few weeks, when Thomas had gotten the place for himself, winds whipped down the road and over the farms to Thomas’ doorstep and had terrified him to no end. 

Once Jimmy moved in that one evening in ‘31 those fears faded to dull bouts of panic and blank stillness. Even when Jimmy was just across the hallway in his own bed for the next year and a bit, the storms never really bothered Thomas. And now, with Jimmy beside him, cozy and safe in their shared queen bed, Thomas had never felt safer. Jimmy had never felt as secure and sure of himself. Even while bathed in greys and browns, the world was still vibrant to him.

Halloween was Jimmy’s favourite time of the year. Yet with Thomas, it was now all of Autumn.

[jaydeemedia]

[ad_1] Heythrop Park Hotel is the ultimate spa and golf getaway in the Cotswolds. History, grandeur, and cool country aesthetics combine to create the decadent adults-only escape you deserve. Ad | This guide was produced in partnership with Warner Hotels. Heythrop Park is a grand golf and spa hotel located on the edge of the Cotswolds.  A sweeping driveway sets the scene for the Downton Abbey escape of your dreams. Once inside, a beautiful Italian Baroque-style manor house is surrounded by 440 acres of leafy countryside. Modern facilities and a relaxed country ambience create the perfect relaxed getaway. Lounge in grand sitting rooms inspired by the early 1900’s. Join rifle shooting, archery, or one of the many activities offered on the grounds. Indulge in a spa treatment with a glass of prosecco or have a round of golf in a beautiful setting. Here is all you need to know about staying at Heythrop Park, A Warner Hotel. COMMENTS // We do our best to keep the information in this guide up to date, if you notice anything has changed, please leave a comment below. BOOKINGS // Booking your trip via the links in this guide will earn us a small commission, at no extra cost to you. Thanks for your support – Paul & Mark. HEYTHROP PARK HOTEL, COTSWOLDS Warner’s Heythrop Park is a luxurious golf and spa hotel in Oxfordshire, on the edge of the Cotswolds. This ultimate country escape is set on 440 acres of rolling countryside containing ancient woods, lakes, rivers, golf course, and hiking trails. At its centre is the Grade II listed Manor House with an imposing sandstone façade supported by 12 columns. Inside, a grand staircase leads from the main reception to a mezzanine floor overlooking an opulent lobby. The period features and quirky modern touches provide a great spot to read a book, or attempt one of the daily quizzes. High tea can be taken in plush surroundings or you can simply stare out the windows at acres of green countryside. Modern additions like the theatre, late lounge, and multiple restaurant spaces mean you are never far away from fun and entertainment on a Heythrop country break. WHERE IS HEYTHROP PARK? Heythrop Park Hotel is located outside the village of Enstone near Chipping Norton (OX7 5UF). The estate is on the northern edge of the Cotswolds, an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty in central England.   By Car — Heythrop Park is around 1 hour, 30 minute’s drive from London, between junction 9 and 10 of the M40. By Train — The nearest train station to Heythrop is Charlbury which is a 1-hour, 20-minute journey from London Paddington. From Charlbury Station, it’s a 15-minute taxi ride to Heythrop. HEYTHROP PARK HISTORY Charles Talbot, the 1st Duke of Shrewsbury, employed architect Thomas Archer to build Heythrop House. After falling in love with Italy, he requested an Italian Baroque-style residence. The glorious building was completed in 1710. In 1831 the house was severely damaged by fire. Thomas Brassey, a railway magnate, bought the house. Albert, his son, renovated the shell and expanded the estate. The Jesuits purchased the house in 1922, turning it into a college. In 1969, NatWest bought the house and park adding further buildings for staff training. From 1999 the estate was operated as a Crowne Plaza Hotel. In 2018, Warner Hotels took the property, undertaking a massive but sympathetic transformation. Without altering the footprint of the original building, they opened in 2022 and the Heythrop Park Hotel was born AN EXCITING COTSWOLDS GOLF HOTEL Twisting through the 440 acres of leafy, undulating landscaped grounds is a 72 par championship standard golf course with USGA standard greens.   With 5 sets of tees which stretch out to an impressive 7,156 yards from the tips, Heythrop Park Golf course is a challenge. Test your mettle on the tight fairways and try to avoid the numerous water features. It’s a tricky course even for the pros. The carefully prepared

course and beautiful Cotswold scenery make for a memorable – if perhaps high scoring – round. Choose from a 1- or 2-night package including breakfast, dinner and golf. Visit warnerleisurehotels.co.uk for more information. A LUXURIOUS COTSWOLDS SPA HOTEL Golf is not the only treat. The Spa & Wellness Club offers a rejuvenating experience in their modern onsite facilities. Treat yourself to a face or body treatment. Heythrop Park Spa uses Temple Spa products, a luxury British skincare brand which is proudly cruelty free. Go for a power breakfast facial and be on your way in 25 minutes or luxuriate with a 115-minute prescriptive facial and massage, designed just for you. If you just want to unwind at your own pace, have a paddle in the 20-metre indoor heated pool or soak in the thermal steam room. We couldn’t resist a glass of prosecco in the hot tubs on the outdoor terrace, and found it hard to leave. ACTIVITIES AT HEYTHROP PARK We had great fun exploring all the activities that are on offer at Heythrop. For many of them, qualified instructors are on hand to get you up to pro level in no time. For others you just turn up and try your hand. Channel Robin Hood in an archery lesson on the grounds. (included) Hire an e-bike to explore the 440 acres at Heythrop. (extra) Get to know your liquor with a Gin Tasting experience. (extra) Try a traditional afternoon tea in a grand room. (extra) Have a shot at rifle shooting on the grounds. (included) Try laser clay or laser pistol shooting. (included) Book yourself into a Pilates class. (included) Have a round on snooker in the elegant Billiards Room. (included) Try your hand at bowls or croquet on the lawn. (included) Have a soak in the pool followed by the hot tub on the outdoor terrace. (included) ENTERTAINMENT AT HEYTHROP Over the three nights we stayed at Heythrop there was no shortage of entertainment. The hotel has two onsite theatres offering a variety of shows every night. The calendar includes artists from all over the country, like comedians, bands, acoustic sets, and DJ’s. The Theatre – Sit back and watch a live performance in The Theatre. It showcases everything from rock bands to pop acts, cinema experiences to musicals. The lush setting with bar tables will make you feel like you’re at the Kit Kat Klub from Cabaret. All performances are included in your package. The Late Lounge – With a bar next door and a dance floor in front of the stage, the Late Lounge is the place to check your inhibitions in at the door. Regular performances include several well-known tribute bands. During our visit we were treated to a star performance by Ami Vaziri. Outside the two main theatres, piano sets swoon while you enjoy a drink in the manor house reception or the Orangery. WHAT TO DO IN THE AREA? Heythrop Park is located on the edge of the Cotswolds, an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty with charming villages, excellent walking and a host of wonderful attractions. Read more in our guide to the best things to do in the Cotswolds.   Here are a few of our favourite Cotswold attractions near Heythrop. Blenheim Palace — Blenheim was the birthplace of Winston Churchill. It’s a stunning palace and a UNESCO World Heritage Site set on 200 acres of landscaped parklands. It’s just a 15-minute drive from Heythrop. Stow-on-the-Wold — Stow-on-the-Wold is a charming market village in the Cotswolds with a vibrant antiques scene. The town centres around a large market square surrounded by elegant Cotswolds townhouses. More details are in our best Cotswolds villages guide. Great Tew — Just a 10-minute drive from Heythrop, Great Tew is one of the most atmospheric villages in the country. The cottages with traditional thatched roofs make a great photo stop. Diddly Squat Farm Shop — Located just 10-minutes from Heythrop, it’s worth popping into Jeremy Clarkson’s farm shop, Diddly Squat. It’s open from 9:30 am to 4:30 pm Wednesday to Sunday. Oxford — Oxford is around 40 minutes from Heythrop so it’s easy to visit on your way.

You could see most of the main sights with our 1-day Oxford itinerary. If you have time for an overnight stay, read our guide to the best things to do in Oxford for some more ideas.   HEYTHROP PARK // DETAILS ROOM TYPES AT HEYTHROP PARK Heythrop Park has 337 rooms with choices to suit different budgets. Cosy – The cosy rooms are designed with solo travellers in mind. These pint-size spaces punch above their weight with all the modern conveniences for an indulgent stay. Standard – Standard rooms at Heythrop are the most economical option for 2 people. The rooms include double beds with stylings of earthy tones and vintage artwork. Deluxe – When you want some extra luxuries to level up your stay, the Deluxe Rooms are a great choice. They have super king-sized beds and armchairs. The style is elegant with wood paneling and heritage colours.   Superior – The 13 feet ceilings, ornate fireplaces, roll-top baths and marble bathrooms evoke all the Baroque splendour of the estate. Super king-sized beds and sofas take advantage of the country aspects from the large windows.   Search for your perfect room at Heythrop Park. YOUR HEYTHROP EXPERIENCE – WHAT’S INCLUDED? Heythrop Park is a spa hotel in the Cotswolds where you can be as active or idle as you wish. Enjoy the expansive grounds, take part in one of the many activities, or indulge in a therapeutic spa session. All bookings at Heythrop include breakfast and dinner. Kickstart the day with a hearty breakfast then finish up with a variety of options for dinner without the need to leave the property. Many of the activities on offer at Heythrop are also included in the price. Enjoy a live music act, take a yoga class, try your hand at archery or try a curious tea tasting experience, all for free. For more details, visit their website: warnerleisurehotels.co.uk WHERE TO EAT AT HEYTHROP Heythrop Park has a wide selection of food options with both traditional British dishes, and international favourites. Here’s what’s on offer: The Travelling Duke Pub & Kitchen – Named after Charles Talbot, the 1st Duke of Shrewsbury who built the first manor house. It’s a pub-style environment and serves British classics. The space is modern yet cosy with the option to eat outside when the sun is shining. It’s open for breakfast, lunch, and dinner from 8 am. Market Kitchen – The Market Kitchen is the main restaurant at Heythrop with a bright open feel and plenty of choice. Three-course dinner is included in your package. Order your entree and dessert at the table. The main course involves choosing from the tasty buffet. It’s open from 8 am to 10:30 am for breakfast and 6 to 8:30 pm for dinner. Brasserie32  – If you get the urge to dine like you’re in Downton Abbey, Brasserie32 is the place. The à la carte menu features beautifully presented dishes inspired by ingredients from the 1900s. The food is perfectly matched with the excellent service and elegant setting. It’s open from 8 am for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Brassey Bar – Named after Thomas Brassey who purchased the fire-damaged property in 1831, the Brassey is a lovely bar where you can grab a drink throughout the day. The nearby Snug is a library-like space for a cosy tipple.    THANKS FOR VISITING // WHERE NEXT? A BIG THANK YOU We’ve been providing free travel content on Anywhere We Roam since 2017. If you appreciate what we do, here are some ways you can support us. Thank you! Paul & Mark FOLLOW US ON INSTAGRAM USE OUR RESOURCES PAGE [ad_2] Source link

[hulkchloron99]

It's been a while. Me and my family just finished watching all of Downton Abbey (the series and two movies). It's really good. Yesterday, I was looking over these old posts, and I just noticed that Downton Abbey was on the list. I was surprised that you chose Carson to be part of the Live Action TV Show (or perhaps L.A.T.S., for short). I would have gone with Violet Crawley. It would be fun to see Violet and Sophia (Golden Girls) make quips to each other.

Though, I predict that in your version, Carson would have to share a bunk with Will Smith (The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air). It would be funny to see them interact.

For an option for a show to put in, if we're counting all Live Action Shows, I would have picked Earl Sinclair from Dinosaurs. Imagine three of the characters he would have to share a room with realize they are talking to an actual Dinosaur.

For Good Omens, I think it would be best to have Aziraphale instead of Crowley. This is because Aziraphale could mistake the Tenth Doctor for him. On another note, it would be hilarious if the Tenth Doctor, near the beginning, would try to make a grand speech about how he will get everyone out of the place they were all sent to, but can't spit out the words and being annoyed by it. Like how Korra couldn't reveal information to Zuko in your fanfic.

Actually, now that I have thought it over, I think it would be better to add live action TV adaptations to possible candidates for the 40, but for characters from Live Action TV Shows.

I would include...

Jon Snow from Game of Thrones

Shawn Spencer from Psych

Michael Scott or Jim Halpert from The Office

Leslie Knope or Ron Swanson from Parks and Rec

Edmund Blackadder or Baldrick from Blackadder

Neil from The Young Ones

and Gilligan from Gilligan's Island

What live action TV Shows would you pick?

There were so many shows that it was so hard to pick! But I did my best:

The Addams Family (1964): Gomez or Mortica

BBC Sherlock: John Watson (I know there are some who don’t like this version, but I like the idea of John becoming even more badass and getting a leg up on Sherlock).

Good Omens: Aziraphale or Crowley 

Merlin: Merlin of Arthur (I’m just imagining Arthur being surrounded by modern technology and calling it “sorcery!”)

House MD: House

Gilligan's Island: Gilligan

M*A*S*H: Hawkeye or Klinger (Look, the man KILLED IT in those dresses and was committed!)

Star Trek: The Original Series: Kirk or Spock

The Nanny: Fran or Niles

The Golden Girls: Rose or Dorothy or Sophia or Blanche (Listen, for so long I have wanted to see Niles from The Nanny and Sophia go toe to toe in an insult competition, so this is the closest I can get!)

The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air: Will Smith

Knight Rider (1982): Michael Knight or KITT (Can you imagine three of the people waking up in a room only to find a talking car with them as well?)

Dexter: Dexter

Fringe: Olivia or Walter or Peter

Stranger Things: Steve Harrington (The babysitter needs to be prepare) or El

Doctor Who: Tenth Doctor

Supernatural: Sam or Dean or Castiel

The Good Doctor: Shaun Murphy

Breaking Bad: Walter White or Jesse Pinkman

The Handmaid's Tale: June Osborne

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Buffy

Roswell (1999): Liz Parker or Max Evans

Fleabag: Fleabag

The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel: Miriam Maisel

Orange Is The New Black: Piper Chapman

Psych: Shawn Spencer

The Office: Michael Scott or Jim Halpert

Parks and Rec: Leslie Knope or Ron Swanson

Brooklyn Nine-Nine: Jake Peralta or Ray Holt

MacGyver (1985): Angus MacGyver

NCIS: Leroy Gibbs

Criminal Minds: Spencer Reid

The X-Files: Dana Scully or Fox Mulder

Full House: Jesse Katsopolis or Danny Tanner or Joey Gladstone

Corner Gas: Brent

Downton Abbey: Charles Carson

Monk: Adrien Monk

The Queen's Gambit: Beth Harmon

Columbo: Columbo

Murder, She Wrote: Jessica Beatrice Fletcher