#writing a future letter to my aunt in her gift

[icetones]

been a while since ive written anything lengthy in french, i feel like how walking after driving for ten hours feels

[cellythefloshie]

;; What My World Spins Around

Dedicated to @ladylooch for @wyattjohnston 's winter fic exchange 2k24

Summary: Christmas day sparks a series of unexpected gifts that lead you and Timo to face a question the two of you had been avoiding since his trade to the New Jersey Devils almost a whole year ago. What will your future hold, and will you be spending it together?

Tropes & TW: Brother's Teammate, Exes To Lovers, Friends with Benefits to Lovers, "we were on a break", gift giving, reader wears glasses, trade angst, - there is no smut in this fic - Injured Timo - written as if he will remain on IR until mid/late February.

Word Count: 4k+

A/N:  I was getting a little worried as the January days have been passing like falling dominos! But alas! My 2k24 Winter Fic Exchange entry is complete! A huge thank you to @wyattjohnston for organising the event and being so supportive when I ended up in your messages feeling like I was never going to be able to write a proper story again after months of not really writing because of my new job. And another huge thank you to @matthewtkachuk for letting me jump into their messages for the same reasons, and when I needed a little help to gain my confidence with Timo. I very much appreciate it! Now, for my lovely recipient, @ladylooch ! Thank you for giving me an opportunity to explore a player that I have only really admired from a far! It was so much fun doing the research and uncovering his career through the NHL in the last 7 seasons! I hope that I was able to touch on all the things you love about Timo and expected from this fic every time I dropped into your anons to ask questions. Enjoy!

There was only a single moment of calm on Christmas morning, and it could only come after gifts had been opened and breakfast had been eaten, and you intended to take advantage of it. The children could be heard in the family room, preoccupied with one of the many toys they had been spoiled with from their parents, Santa, and naturally, yourself. Being the fun live-in aunt came with a cost, not that you minded. You loved your family and your matching Christmas pajamas that would be plastered all over your family’s Instagram page for the coming weeks. And with the children distracted, you used your rare moment alone to enjoy your own gifts. 

Curled up in an armchair by the tree, you held your new book in your hands, your fingers holding each side carefully as you did your best not to crease the binding of the paperback romance novel. You had only been sitting there thirty minutes at most, but you were a quarter of the way done when you heard a pair of footsteps shuffle into the room. You didn’t have to look up to know who they belonged to. You had been hearing them her entire life. The slow, heavy step of slipper clad feet over hard wood could only belong to your brother. 

You had half expected him to be sleeping in front of the television with a Christmas movie playing on repeat for the kids already, but you could hear him shuffling around the Christmas tree just over your shoulder. The scratch of his slipper was harsh against your ears. 

“Making all that noise, you better be taking that tree down–” you finally spoke when the noise was becoming too much, all without looking up from the pages of your book. 

The tree never came down until after the new year, but in your mind, there was no other excuse he could have for making so much noise. 

“There’s still a present back here for you,” he claimed, and you peaked over the edge of the pages. 

“What is it?”

“Don’t know, but it’s not from me,” he told you, and his hand came into view in front of you. 

In it, he held a deep red envelope with your name written across it in an elegant cursive. It was unlike any you had seen before. It wasn’t your brother’s hand, or your sister in laws. Nor was it your mothers. The unfamiliarity of each letter left your brows to furrow as you placed your book down in your lap and took it from your brother’s hand. 

You opened it slowly, careful not to rip the pretty envelope as you pulled out what looked like a basic Christmas card. It was only when you opened it that you realized the magnitude of the gift: dinner reservations at your favorite restaurant in San Jose. 

It was the one restaurant where you spent every special occasion. Your birthday, anniversaries, celebrating your brother’s milestones, had all been spent there at the same table since your brother had been traded to San Jose almost a decade ago. But it was also a restaurant you had been avoiding since your own boyfriend had been traded from the team - giving you very little to celebrate as the status of their relationship had been called into question when he left. 

Were you single? You wouldn’t say so. 

Were you taken? You didn’t know the answer to that question either. 

You hadn’t broken up, but you were on a break. 

It was easier, or so that was what you both claimed, when there was a whole country between them. Timo was on the East Coast playing with the New Jersey Devils now, and you were on the West helping your sister-in-law raise her two children while your brother was busy in net for the San Jose Barracuda and the San Jose Sharks on the rare occasion. 

You could have gone with him, but that was a reality you chose to ignore. You couldn’t justify going to Jersey with him, not even when he asked. Your entire life was in San Jose, and uprooting it for someone who struggled to commit until your brother had found out you were sneaking around together, and hadn’t even thought about proposing in the five years you were officially together. 

Seeing the reservation sent memories of Timo flooding through your mind, your stomach feeling as if it were suddenly tied into knots as you looked up at your brother with a sad smile. 

“This isn’t from you?” You asked slowly, your voice on the verge of breaking. 

His large shoulders shrugged. “Not from us, but you should go. I don’t think you’ll regret it.”

***

Your dinner reservation wasn’t until the new year after the chaos of gift giving and family events were over. That also meant the restaurant scene was quieter. There was no waiting in line just to tell the hostess you had a reservation while they were turning others away on a thirty minutes or more waitlist. It also brought a certain peace. One that was laced with the gentle melody of classical restaurant music, the gentle clink of cutlery against fine china, and the subtle sound of wine being poured into your glass as you eyed up the menu you practically had memorized. 

“I didn’t order any wine,” you spoke, your gaze rising from the menu as one hand left the leather cover to push your glasses back up the bridge of your nose. 

The server didn’t stop his pour until he was satisfied with the fullness of the deep red wine in the glass. He then offered you a soft smile and displayed the label of the bottle to you. The wine was your favorite. The same one you had ordered every time you had dined in their establishment - which, in reality, was only two or three times a year. There was no way they would have remembered.

Lowering your menu further to place it down on the tabletop, you turned in your seat. You looked one way, and then the next looking for a familiar face. Your brother. Your sister-in-law. Timo. Anyone. But the surrounding faces in the restaurant were those of strangers, and the seat across from you at the table remained empty. You were alone, and would spend the remainder of your evening alone, too. 

Through the three courses of an appetizer, main course and dessert, you enjoyed it alone. The wine, and your favorite dishes, should have been enough to keep you distracted, but your mind found no peace as you stared at the glass of red wine. It became closer and closer to empty with each sip, but it couldn’t answer the question that haunted you in the back of your mind. 

Who had gone out of their way to make this reservation for you? 

Your questions were only fueled further when the bill was delivered to the table. You reached into the depths of your purse and pulled out your wallet, but you were met by the same smile he had when you had questioned the wine. The bill had  already been paid for. 

***

Dinner was just the first gift of many that you would receive in the month of January. The second came in the mail one day – the date one you couldn’t quite remember. It was a package among junk mail, its stiff cardboard box sandwiched between color flyers. You hadn’t expected a delivery, so you were going to leave it resting on the table for your brother, or his wife, but with a clumsy step you had walked into the table. It sent the flyers fluttering to the floor and your name became all too clear on the shipping label. 

You carried it with you up to the privacy of your bedroom before you opened it. The shock of the gift sending it to fall from your lap to lay open on the bed. Inside, a book. But not just any book, your favorite book. A special edition, signed by the author. 

Pushing up from your bed, you rushed down the hallway to the children’s room where your sister-in-law was with the kids. Their laughter was a pleasant sound to your ears, coaxing a smile as the question slipped from your lips without a proper announcement that you had come home, “that book that was on the table downstairs, that from you?”

She looked up from the children with a smile, her hair falling into her face before she could push it back with a single hand. “No, that wasn’t us,” she said, her smile knowing. She knew just who had sent you the book, but she wasn’t about to tell you. 

The next gift came on Valentine's Day. You were at the part-time job you balanced with helping with the child care of your brother’s kids. It was there you received a bouquet of flowers, your favorite flowers. They came with no card. It came with teases of having a secret admirer from your colleague, your brother when she arrived home, and the children. But now, you had an idea of who had been sending you all the gifts, but had yet to receive any confirmation. 

All your speculations were put to rest when you received one final gift box on the 20th of February. It was a large black box with a teal ribbon that sprawled halfway across the dinner table. You stared at it for a long moment, your hands sweating as they came together to nervously rub at each other. Teeth bit at your lower lip, and your lungs struggled to take a single breath as you reached out and tugged at a single strand of ribbon that made up the bow. It fell so fluidly away from the box it almost left you in awe as it draped over the table top but your eyes could only fixate on it for so long before your hands were lifting off the top of the box revealing bright red tissue paper inside. 

It was a harsh contrast from the cool hues of the teal to the heat of the red tissue paper - or maybe that was just the raise in her body temperature as you stood at the head of the table as you finally realized who had been sending you all the gifts since the holiday season. The box was stuffed with New Jersey Devils' merchandise. Everything from hats to t-shirts, to pucks and photographs. The box was filled with everything shot of a hockey stick and a set of hockey equipment – but what it did have was a hockey jersey. Black and red, and gorgeous with a 96 on the back and on the sleeves. And across the back, the name of your admirer, your boyfriend, your ex-boyfriend, whatever it was. Meier. 

You lifted it out of the box slowly, sighing as beneath it another gift came into view. A single ticket to the game against the San Jose Sharks in seven days. He wanted you to go, but could you? You had both been apart for so long already that the closure it would give you would do more harm than good. It left you to wonder that maybe it would just be easier to move on–

***

The San Jose Sharks had become a team that struggled to fill their seats beyond an 80% capacity most nights. They were falling back into a rebuild with fan favorites and rookies alike, getting traded away for draft picks to bolster the Sharks' future. But it came with a cost. Fan loyalty wavered, their faith in management wore thin. But on February 27th when Timo Meier returned to SAP Center, the fans followed. His name was on the backs of many and slid off the tongue of all. Some cursed him for leaving, others were excited to welcome him back if only for one night, and you were lost, silent among them. 

You walked with your head down, the large New Jersey Devils jersey hanging off your shoulders as you wound your way through the crowd to get to your seat. It was high up in the area, but not so high that you felt like you were in the ceiling. You could see the ice, but from down there, you were sure Timo wouldn’t be able to see you. The thought left you nervous. 

Going to the game had been a tough decision, but the thought of going and there being an empty seat left you felt guilty. Your attendance wasn’t a hard set decision on what your course of action with Timo would be. You could attend and decide that it was over - or it could reach the end of the game and you could decide that you wanted to try again. Or Maybe, he had decided it all for you. You could decide you wanted him, but the gifts had been a thank you for putting up with him, and a goodbye. At least then, after you were done crying, you might make a couple of bucks after selling it on eBay. 

You sat in your seat with your stomach in your throat, your eyes fell on your phone one minute, and then the next. Every second felt like hours, but then time seemed to freeze as the players flooded the ice to warm up. You held your breath, reading the backs of every single player that took to the ice until the parade from the tunnel was over. You sat there for a moment, your hands curled into fists in your lap and your nails pressing into your palms. Timo wasn’t among them. He wasn’t skating in circles, shooting a puck on the net, or talking up the trainer. He wasn’t on the ice at all. 

You stood up slowly, your eyes squinting as if you had just happened to miss him. You pressed up on your toes even, giving yourself an extra inch to see him, and yet, you still could not see him. 

In a breath from your lips, you cursed so quietly that even your own ears couldn’t hear it. He invited you all the way down there, to what? Not even play? You huffed out an exaggerated breath as you stepped back so that your legs were pressed into the seat of your chair. One hand reached back to lower it for you to sit, but before you could, you felt the warmth of a large hand on your shoulder. 

Turning in place, you saw the back wall first, the number of the section in bold a few seats away, but above you, as you tilted your head back, you saw the edge of one suite. Reaching past it was a single arm clad in a suit you knew could only belong to one person. 

“Timo,” his name was a whisper on your lips as your gaze found his. 

You were breathless as you stared at him. You had almost forgotten just what shade of blue his eyes were. Not too blue that they looked cold or harsh. They were soft and bright but had an almost gray tone, like the sky as a storm rolled in. Your lip quivered as you took in the color, as if you were seeing them for the first time. And if they hadn’t been enough to captivate you so fully you had forgotten about the tens of thousands of fans that gathered for the hockey game, Timo also wore that soft smile of his that had always left you smitten with him. 

“You made it,” he spoke as he leaned over the edge just to get a little closer to you. 

“I wasn’t going to miss this,” you told him with a smile, “but I thought you’d be out there.”

Your head cocked as you pointed back over your shoulder with a thumb towards the ice where his teammates were warming up from the game. 

Timo shrugged in response, his smile wavering and his eyes shifting away from yours for a moment. He was disappointed that much was clear. Had he been expecting you to be keeping tabs on him? “Been on IR since December-”

That’s right! You remembered seeing that headline circulating your social media pages months ago. You had even skimmed one article for the reason - a mid-body injury - and you had assumed that he had healed up and been back in the roster by now. But you were wrong. 

Worst of all, you just should have called. Or texted. Anything. You should have reached out, wished him well. You should have made sure that he was okay. Maybe then the two of you could have figured out just what was going on between the two of you. Yet, you stood before him not knowing his intent, or your own, but happy to see him. 

“That’s right, but then why fly all the way out here?”

“Or you,” he said your name with a smile as he pulled back just enough to find his seat. He was just behind you, just slightly elevated. When he sat all the way back, you couldn’t see him, but as the light went dim, Timo leaned forward, keeping his arm reaching out just enough that his hand could rest on your shoulder for the duration of the game. You could feel the warmth of his touch on your shoulder throughout the night, it only left you when Timo had gotten up throughout the game – including when he stood and waved to the crowd after they played a tribute to his time on the team high above on the screens.

It was a tribute that left you in tears. 

Image by image, one video clip after the next, you were forced through the years you spent with Timo. You weren’t in a single shot, no one else in the arena knew you existed - but you could fill the gaps between each game, between each milestone because you were there for every single one. You were just sneaking around when he took his rookie lap, but you were his girlfriend by the time he scored 5 goals in two periods and everything in between - right until the trade when you felt more like an ex-girlfriend than his partner. Yet, even after so much time apart, you loved him. You could feel it then and there as you sat surrounded by people who applauded him. You could feel it from your head to the very tips of your toes. 

You wanted nothing more to turn around in place and yell it at him. To proclaim it there as the crowd roared along with the game, yet you watched in silence, and welcomed the warmth of Timo’s touch again as he settled to watch the rest of the game with you. 

The two of you remained there long after the game was over and the stands were left empty. You stared down at the empty ice, his hand giving your shoulder a careful squeeze before he spoke out, “get your ass up here.”

“They aren’t waiting for you-”

“We’re in town for the night. I can get a car back to the hotel… com’on, I should be able to help you up,” Timo assured, his arm training outstretched to you as you stood. 

You took his offer carefully, your one hand collapsing with his as the other gripped at the edge of the suite. With his help, you climbed up and over the side, before you settled in the hold of his embrace. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he whispered into your hair, and your grip on him grew a little tighter. “I’ve missed you.”

You choked back a sob, “I’ve missed you too. So much.” More than you had realized, “but you like New Jersey?”

“Love it,” he sighed, “but-”

“But?” you asked weakly. 

“You aren’t there,” you felt his entire body rise and fall in a heavy sigh, and then came the cold of the arena to creep up on you as he pulled away. But he didn’t go far. He moved just far enough away to dip a hand into his pocket. Then, he offered you one final gift. 

Timo dropped a square velvet box down into your palm. It was small, but it felt like the weight of the world in your hands as your neck snapped back to look up at him. 

“Don’t worry,” he half chuckled, “I'm not proposing, but it is a promise.”

Lifting your hand up, you pushed open the box and let your eyes all on a dainty gold ring with a large ruby accompanying an equally beautiful diamond that glimmered in the light. 

“We were still so young when we first met, you remember?” He asked slowly, one hand finding your hip to draw you back in while the other found your cheek and stroked your hair from your face. 

You nodded, your eyes still fixated on the ring. 

“We still had so much growing up to do, and we did a lot of that together. Two kids screwing around, and even as things got more serious, it didn’t feel like much more than that,” but he didn’t need to tell you that. What he had felt, were the very things you had been feeling, but while you were scared he had been feeling trapped and was using the trade to get away from you, you had been hoping it would have finally been enough to commit to you. 

Almost a year later, you were finally getting your answer. 

“But it should have been. I should have proposed. Two, maybe three years in. Before the trade happened. So long ago,” he said your name like it was a curse, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, trying to hide the emotion that crept up on him as he spoke. “I owed you so much more, and I’ve wasted so much of our time growing up. But I needed it. I needed that time to realize what I had, what I had lost - what I can’t afford to lose, and it’s you. It’s always been you."

“I understand that after all this time, it's too late. That you’ve moved on - or maybe you haven’t, but you want to. You don’t have to say yes, because after what I’ve done I’d be surprised if you’d even say yes to a date with me but not promising to you was the greatest regret I’ve ever had and I’d like to try and make that right, if you’d let me.”

You stared at the ring for a long time in silence. Your eyes flickered from one glimmering gemstone to the other. It was flashy for a promise ring. Expensive. One you would wear on her right finger and not her left  - because the offer required no thought. You were going to accept. 

You loved Timo, and it was clear that he loved you, too. 

“As much as I would love to see you grovel,” you grinned a little too wide as you held out your right hand. It was bare, waiting. 

“There will be so much more time for that.” His words were a playful promise as he reached out for the ring and slid it down into its place on your finger. It was perfect. 

Tears burned as they built up in your eyes at the feeling of the ring around your finger. It was one you would have to get used to, but felt right. This was the way it was meant to be. You and Timo, and you hated how long it took for you both to reach that conclusion, but you were grateful you were finally there. Pressing up onto your toes, you threw your arms around Timo. You welcomed the strength of his arms around your body, and then you welcomed his kiss. Your stomach became giddy with butterflies as if it were the very first time and you smiled, knowing it wouldn’t be the last.

[shallyne]

My ACOTAR OC kids

Yesterday I asked if y'all wanted to read a fic with my OC's and someone voted no so I got demotivated but I may introduce you to all my babies

We start with Feysands kids!

Nyx

I count him as an OC because he's just a baby in the series!!

He/Him - Pansexual

Aries

First born and oldest Feysand child

Partner: Alara Cai

inherits Feyre's painting talents

has insomnia

He can play the guitar

Spends a year abroad

Works in Feyre's Studio

Best friends with Carl

Feyre's nickname for him is little star

Scared of Jelly (Nemesis' snake)

Tallest sibling

- Canon Universe (opposed to Modern Universe):

Prefers water powers

Nemesis

She/Her - Lesbian

Leo

Second born and third oldest of the siblings

Partner: Eirene

Dancer (Ballet)

Scared of thunderstorms (only Nyx can calm her down)

Hates physical contact

Dropped out of college

Always hungry

Shares clothes with Feyre

Has two pets

Jelly (snake)

Kronos (blind cat)

Best friends with Bragi

Feyre's nickname for her is little whirlwind

- Canon Universe:

future High Lady of the Night Court

prefers her fire powers

Bragi

They/Them - Non Binary

Libra

Last born and youngest of the siblings

Partner: Aiden Cai (only in Modern Universe)

Loves reading and writing poetry

Loves traveling

voluntarily visited a voaeding school

Plays the piano

Obsessed with Taylor Swift

Light/Dark Academia aesthetic

Very intelligent

Friends with Briar and Nemesis

Feyre's nickname for them is little shooting star

Probably on the spectrum

They aren't attached to their hair, they change it like they want it

- Canon Universe:

Born in the day court

has daemati powers, finds out through an accident and refuses to master them

Carl

He/Him - Straight

Cancer

Adopted and second oldest child of Feysand

Partner: Meadow

His mother died when he was six

Spent two years in an orphanage

Got adopted by Feysand at 8 years old after befriensing Nyx on the playground and becoming an inseparable duo

Best friends with Nyx

Friends with Meadow before officially getting into a relationship

Loves dragons

Confused but got the spirit

Clumsy

Has midnight zoomies

Secretely ripped under baggy clothes

Feysand purchased his mothers house when Carl was younger and gifted it to him when he was 18

Feyre's nickname for him is little sunshine

He wanted to be a vet but didn't pass his exams, now he works in an animal shelter

That was it for Feysand kids! Now we continue with the Elriel kids

Briar

She/her

Virgo

Oldest and first born child of Elriel

Straight-A student

Popular but nice

Introverted

Friends with the Feysand kids

Always studying, often with her cousin Bragi

Swimmer

Feyre is her favorite Aunt

Daisy

She/Her

Youngest and last born child of Elriel

Ice Skater

Big age gap between her and Briar, born after Feysand's first grandchild was born

That was it for Elriel, now for the partners of the Feysand kids!

Alara

She/Her - Straight

Taurus

Youngest and last born child of the Cai children

Partner: Nyx

Has three brothers who are protective of her

Nurse

Emotionally and verbally abused by her father

Mother was absent

Loves Cooking

Loves Nail art

Friends with Nemesis Archeron, Evalin Whitethorn Galathynius and Trinity Blackbeak-Havilliard

Plus size

Can sing very well but rarely does

Has a pet (together with Nyx)

A chihuahua named Baby

- Canon Universe:

Alara is a mortal born with healing powers

Her brothers send a letter to the Hugh Lord of Dawn to take Alara in to train her powers and get her away from the father, Feyre volunteers to take her in and train her

Falls in love with Fae Nyx

Dies of old age

Eirene

She/Her - Lesbian

Capricorn

Only Child

Partner: Nemesis

Born in Korea

Abandoned in a subway as a baby

Living with her dads in Australia, later in life moving to Velaris

Plays soccer

Has pink hair

Has a pet

A ferret named Popcorn

- Canon Universe:

is a lesser faerie

First lesser faerie to get into an official soccer team

Her pink hair is natural

Meadow

She/Her - unlabeled

Gemini

Only Child

Partner: Carl

Free spirit

Her real name is Rena, she chose Meadow for herself

Loves and lives in nature

Very into yoga

Mostly vegan but doesn't label herself

Has a pet

A pitbull named Mars

Aiden

He/Him

Partner: Bragi

Youngest brother and third born of the Cai children

Musician

(Fun) Facts

Rhys gives Nemesis his sister's old clothes, so they have a purpose again

Nemesis looks like a copy of Feyre, only that Nemesis has Rhys's violet eyes. Rhys realized when Nemesis got the same bangs that Feyre had as a teenager because they almost looked the same

Carl finds it extremely easy to get used to Meadows lifestyle

Nyx finds his mate a century after Alara's death but rejects the bond because he's still mourning his wife

Every birth story correlates to the fears and personalities of the biological Feysand kids

Feyre died during Nyx's birth and Nyx is extremely clingy to her

Nemesis was born during a very bad thunderstorm and is extremely scared of them

Bragi was born in the day court (the court with all the libraries, a whole other court) and loves traveling and reading. As a baby, Rhys and Feyre had to fly around with them when they got moody, because they just needed to be outside

Nemesis could have graduated college with great grades but she quickly found out that college for her and dropped out

Bragi and Aiden started getting to know each other when they argued about the best Taylor Swift songs during Nyx and Alara's wedding

Bragi was in a toxic relationship before, in the Canon universe she never dates anyone after that. In the Modern Universe, it takes almost a decade until Aiden and Bragi realize they are in love

Rhys didn't want to adopt Kronos first, later he became a cat dad and spoiled Kronos rotten, like the princess she is

Nyx and Alara's child is named Oizys

After Bragi's birth there was a rumor that Azriel was the real father because they have hazel eyes and a personality more fitting to Azriel's. Ofc they are Rhys's childs and tjey just inherited his mother's eye color

[fancyfeathers]

I am really interested how Eloise would even communicate with her aunts - the darlings

I think Louis's darling and her would spend the most time together

During the time skip, she would write letters to Albert’s darling since she was traveling around Europe and would know her next location from her aunt’s previous letter. And now Albert’s darling lives to spoil her children and nieces with gifts so quite often when a letter came for Eloise it would be accompanied by a large package, and she received perfume from France, playing cards from Spain, pressed tulips from Holand, watercolors from Germany, sheet music from Austria, photographs of ancient ruins from Greece, oil paints from Italy, and as her engagement gift (though this is somewhat false since many other gifts were sent with this one making it hard to know which one she was referring to when she said in her letter that this gift was her engagement gift) it was a beautiful set of sapphire and gold jewelry from Russia, earrings, a necklace, even a tiara, after all Eloise is going to be marrying a Duke so she must look the part as Duchess, it is sort of like when she gave William’s darling jewelry. This list does not include the insane amount of dresses and accessories that she bought from every city.

But then when she does return home back to England and starts her own business when she buys the high end hotel, she gets together with Eloise every week, especially when she is planning her wedding. They have tea and discuss her latest cases, take a trip to modiste to have her wedding dress made, look at flowers, invitations, and so on. Since her mother during the time skip moved away with Sherlock’s darling to find a new start, Albert’s darling really steps up to take Eloise and Madeline under her wing when she returns from her travels, and this does mean spoiling them and her own children to hell and back, her love language is gift giving and she is filthy rich.

“Oh my dearest, this is my gift to you, after all you deserve it, my dear future Duchess.”

Then with Louis’ darling, they were certainly close before the time skip, but during it she practically had no contact with her because Eloise does not want her Uncle Louis to know where she is just in case. Occasionally an unmarked letter will come in the mail for Louis’ darling and it will be from Eloise, just telling her and Louis, and whomever else is in the MI6 along with their darlings, that she is alive and well and perhaps write about her last case. These letters certainly worry Louis due to all the dangers she faces in her work and honestly Louis cannot help but see all his nieces and nephew as if they were still little children and not the young adults they are.

“Would you look at that, Louis. Seems like Eloise has finally made a name for herself, perhaps she is the next Sherlock Holmes-“

“Please do not compare her to him.”

Then with her own mother, she had no contact with other her mother during the time skip because she wanted her mother to have a brand new start and not feel like anyone was going to drag her down, even though her mom tells her that Eloise and Madeline would never be a burden, Eloise just wants her mom to have a brand new start. But Madeline and their mother exchange letters, Madeline informing her of what the two of them have been up to and sometimes even sending newspaper clips of Eloise’s latest case, and unknown to the two sisters right next to their mother as she reads the letters in her apartment in New York is their father, reading over the newspaper clips that are sent with them, while their newest daughter is tucked into bed and fast asleep.

“William, she is grown up now, Eloise can carry her own-“

“She was unconscious for two weeks when she tried to intervene with a mission and was caught in the crossfire, I do not think that can be considered as taking care of herself and I do not trust her to not do the same now.”

[merlinpotterandtherandom]

Morgana knows that it's dangerous, but she thinks that it's worth it, since it's more dangerous to keep this with her. She knows she has enough power, since she's the last High Priestess of the Old Religion, and the only person more powerful than her is Emrys. Or so her sister, Morgause, says.

Morgana starts the ritual, she isn't sure if it's going to work, but it's the best solution. She needs to protect this at all costs, even if it means she has to send it to the future. A baby starts to cry, she kisses his forehead and says "My sweet Hadrian, I hope I'll be able to join you in the future soon, but if not, I hope that someone will take good care of you, son. Mommy loves you, baby. Good luck". Now, she isn't happy about that, but she'll be damned if she lets Morgause or Cenred be around her baby. Her baby that Cenred and Morgause insisted that she should be the one to carry for Cenred. Morgause hated the idea of being pregnant and Cenred needed a heir and he wanted a magical one, so with Morgana there it was a win-win situation for Cenred and Morgause. Morgana accepted this with the condition that she would help raise the baby, no matter what.

Harry is not having a good summer, at all. 1- He can't send his boyfriend any letters 'cause it would be suspicious for both of them to be recieving letters and notes every hour 'cause they're that kind of couple that can talk about everything and anything to each other, thus they would be sending owls like crazy, so they decided it was for the best if they didn't write to each other. 2- His friends are not even bothering on replying his letters and when they do, the letters are more like notes than letters. 3- It's his 15th birthday and he just recieved a letter from his dead mother as a gift, the joy! 4- The letter explains how she isn't his mother, at least not biologically and says he should go to Gringotts to make an inheritance test to see who his biological parents are.

Harry manages to sneak out to go to Gringotts, there he talks to a Goblin and asks for an inheritance test. The Goblin takes him to a private office and asks for 3 drops of blood. Harry does that and when the results are shown, he drops the parchment in shock. The parchment reads:

Name: Hadrian Cenred Morgan Essetir Pendragon Alias: Harry James Potter, Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived Blood status: Half-blood Mother: Morgana Pendragon Father: King Cenred of Essetir Adoptive mother: Lily Jasmine Potter née Evans Adoptive father: James Fleamont Potter Birthday: 31 July 1405 (Quick note: Merlin is set sometime in the middle age-medieval times, so loosely 500-1500, I just chose a random year between these and put here, if you'd like to write a fic based on that, then you can change it, no problem.) Harry just stopped reading, he didn't want to know the other surprises this test might reveal. If he was originally born in 1405, how the fuck he got to 1980? He knows time travel is a thing, but that far? Harry doesn't think it's possible. He decides he wants to take a look around the Pendragon vault, maybe his biological mother left something to help him out there? So the Goblin takes him there and he finds a diary there, Harry picks it up and takes it to the Dursleys with him. He starts reading it. Harry at least now knows that he was sent to the future using a ritual, and that his mother had all the intention to join him. Harry is still trying to process that he isn't really James and Lily's son and that his biological mother is some historical figure that they learn about in the History of Magic class. After reading Morga- his mother's, diary, he finds out that she used the ritual to send Harry forward in time, 'cause she thought it would be the best place to hide him from his own father and from his aunt, since, by what Harry read, they would only use him for his powers or something like that.

So the Order chooses to come and pick Harry up when he's having an existential crisis. Typical. As soon Harry sees Sirius and Remus he asks them "Did you guys know?", not minding that they have a few members of the Order there with them, he just wants answers and the fact that Sirius and Remus just can't look at Harry...Well, it says a lot. So Harry asks "Why you didn't tell me? Why did you have to let me find out about it through a letter that she left me?". The rest of the Order is really confused on what Harry is talking about, but the entertainment is so good that they don't want to risk interrupting it to ask what the fuck is going on. When Sirius and Remus don't answer, Harry just sighs and says "Fine, when you're ready to be adults and talk to me about it, I suppose you know where to find me." and leaves to his room, that he's apparently sharing with Ron. Harry ignores Hermione, Ron and Ginny following him and asking what he was talking about; Harry doesn't think he's ready to talk to them about it. But he wants to talk to his boyfriend, though, so he sends a note to said boyfriend.

Harry doesn't use Hedwig to send the note, obviously, he sneaks out and uses an Owl Post. He doesn't have to wait much for an answer, though. And after a bit of conversation, they agreed to meet the next day, so Harry went to sleep with a smile on his face, knowing he would see his boyfriend the next day.

Harry finally manages to escape the Weasleys and Hermione and goes to meet his boyfriend. Harry smiled when he saw his boyfriend, and even though said boyfriend had a glamour on, Harry could recognize Draco anywhere. They go to Muggle London and find a adorable Cafe, they find a table and after they order something to drink, they start talking and Harry shows Draco the letter + the test, Draco is worried with something that he read in the test and asks Harry "Did you read the entire test?" to which Harry replies "No, I didn't want to have any more surprises, you know?" and Draco nods but says "You should take a look on where says potions, blocks and glamours...It seems like you have a few on you and also you seem to have something called Horcrux in your scar, you should definitely go back to Gringotts and ask for a cleaning ritual or something. You should go right after we finish here, love. I'm honestly worried with how many things you have on you." Harry gently takes his test back from Draco and sees that Draco is right. So they finish their drinks and Harry pays, 'cause he's more used to Muggle money than Draco, and Harry goes to Gringotts.

After Harry removes everything, including the Horcrux, he writes a quick note to let Draco know that he removed everything and is fine. Harry found out what was a Horcrux and that the one he had was just a small part, so Voldemort made more than one. He asks the Goblins if they can track the other ones, which they can, so Harry pays them to do it and destroy them in Harry's name and keep Harry updated, of course. So Harry goes back to Grimmald Place. No one noticed he left the house, 'cause he pretended to lock himself in the room they have Buckbeak in, so everyone just thought Harry was just being moody.

The Goblins did an amazing job and destroyed all of the Horcruxes, so Harry knows that the next time he faces Voldy, he can kill the old snake face for good. So Harry starts training. He reads every book that he can put his hands on of the Grimmald library and sneaks out to buy some more and even asks Draco for a few books that he can send from the Malfoy library that anyone would miss for a few days, which Draco gladly sends his boyfriend. Harry also goes to his vaults to see if there's any books that can be useful there. Sirius and Remus are confused at first when Harry asks them to teach him how to duel, but when Harry explains his logic, Sirius and Remus agree and start teaching Harry how to duel and even show him some spells they create that are supposed to be for pranks, but work really well in a duel as well. Harry works really hard 'cause he knows he has only a few weeks and he pretends to start his 5th year being at least decent on dueling and knowing a bunch of new spells.

5h year begins and Harry finds the Room of Requirement in the first week back and keeps on practicing, with Draco's help, since Draco had dueling classes since he was a kid. Harry finally feels like he's good enough to defeat Voldemort when he has an encounter with the snake face this year.

Harry & Co go to the Ministry 'cause Harry finally figured out that the weapon Voldy is looking for is really a prophecy, so he's curious to know what it says. They go right after they finish their OWLs. Of course it wasn't that simple, of course Moldyvoldy would have his Death Eaters there. Everyone has their shot with a Death Eater. After that Voldemort finally showed up and when Dumbledore + the Ministry employees + the Minister showed up, Harry stopped playing around with Vody and finally managed to defeat him. Now Voldemort is forever defeated. Of course, there's still Death Eaters around and of course Harry & Co still have to deal with the Ministry, but let's do one thing at the time.

[thedawnbeauty]

“Miss..?” A light tap on her shoulder blade, as Aurora turned around seeing a servant. She had been lost in her thoughts. As she raised her brows up, apologizing, as the servant handed her a letter addressed to her, signed from Matthew Blaine. The man who had been responsible for her younger brother. She slide her finger underneath his name several times, wondering the content of the letter.

“ Miss, are your things ready for the ship, we can take them for you.” As Aurora looked up and nodded slowly, as she opened the letter, as her eyes scanned over every word.

“ To the morning light, and the beauty of the dawn. A name so beautiful, and strong . It is a equal representation of your heritage, your strength and power. My son writes to me to inform me you, you are now at the mercy of other court. I will say it breaks my heart to learn you are no longer where you were intended to be. I know your mother wished for you happiness with Hana. But all young ones must leave the nest to explore what the world has to offer them. Even if that means making grave errors of judgement and things you can not take back. No matter how good your future deeds may be, your past will always be there. But that’s the beautiful thing about it, it is the past. I wish I could have written to you sooner, and helped encourage or present different guidance. But I understand having a powerful grandfather and wanting to meet their expectations. I understand having a powerful cousin, who intention and judgment is often clouded despite good intentions. I found pieces of myself with you, and I’m like me, you have been quite misunderstood and let to your own device. I know many speak of your parents, there strengths and their weaknesses. I think you could take a page of examples and use them for your own benefit. Your mother was charming, generous and a comfort to those who needed it. Your father was a good listener, head strong and confident. You have your own gifts and talents to develop and make. So, I write this to you as your uncle. Please tread carefully and surround yourself with trustworthy people. You have a chance to change everything. You have a chance to fix what was taken from your family. Have courage Aurora, and be kind. This will win you favor, and respect. That is what truly makes a good ruler. Your Aunt Leta and I, send are best wishes and love. “

@whostoblaine

[madefate]

A letter is delivered to Vepar's estate, along with a hand-drawn approximation of the estate itself, clearly done from memory. The handwriting on the letter is elegant and practiced, clearly carefully done. "My dear aunt Vepar, I regret to inform you that I will be unable to attend on the requested date as I am no longer allowed outside the palace at this time. I do apologize; I was very much looking forward to seeing you as well as your estate again. In an effort to make up for the lack of my presence, I have attempted to recreate it from memory as well as I was able. Though I am unable to venture forth from the palace, I do hope I will be able to see you soon. Your loving nephew, Stolas" / @helldustedstories

The light filtering through the glass walls of Vepar's solarium is the muted, deep blue green of Envy, comforting and all consuming. Her schedule is not so full that she can't take a few long moments to luxuriate before going through her daily messages. One of her sirens has dutifully left a pile of missives for her and Vepar has taken them to her vanity - the glass in the mirror occasionally flickering, as if it is more liquid than solid, and glazed with a pearlescent sheen.

When she finds the letter - plain, but on the thick cardstock that speaks of money - Vepar lingers on the handwriting on its face. She has her guess, and her confirmation when she unearths a letter, and its accompanying drawing. A fond smile pulls at her lips at the careful strokes that unerringly depict her estate - is that not just like him, so thoughtful. So talented.

Her smile wanes, though, as she reads through what Stolas has sent her, scanning the paper over a few times before she is satisfied she has thoroughly exhumed the meaning between the lines. Only then does she take her time thinking through her reply, fetching a pen and paper at once.

❝ My Darling Nephew,

Your words are enough to brighten my day, though your presence is that much sweeter. I am so sorry to hear that you will not be able to visit for some time; your apologies are not necessary. I understand that this is a crucial time for any young Goetia, though, of course, if there are other matters holding you back, you needn't apologize for them either.

You remain as talented and thoughtful as ever, little pearl. I shall save this, in the hopes that the artist will return one day for a visit and sign his work. In exchange, you will find with this a parcel. The hand mirror within is forged with the waters I have personally cursed, both of Hell and the world above. Your gifts are star touched and often leave you in the future, but you may find that, if you focus, you may be able to see more of the present that is beyond your reach.

Do not forget that every moment in this lifetime is simply that - a moment. If you look to the stars, you will find hope. And if you look to the waves, you will find me.

Until I see you again, all my love,

Vepar ❞

There have been many times over her very long life that have seen Vepar wanting nothing more than to drag her nails through Paimon's face, dipping them in poison, making her brother feel the agony that he seems to float above. This is no exception, but she has not come this far by caving to rash impulses. Instead, she neatly packages her scrying mirror and sends it off, knowing that Stolas will read between the lines and perhaps begin learning the art himself.

Then, she neatly and primly picks up another sheet of paper, this emblazoned with her royal seal, and writes, channeling her fury into cleverness.

❝ Brother,

You have become quite a stranger to me these past decades, though I respect the responsibilities on your shoulders. As always, I continue to follow your example and busy myself with work as well. But let us not forget how important it is to confer with each other, to ensure that those we serve are well supported.

As such, I will be visiting on business within the next few weeks. Provide me the times you are free, and I will accommodate your schedule.

Yours in Fealty,

Vepar ❞

Vepar knows how to play the game, but faking her subservience to that narcissistic blowhard makes her skin crawl more than it had with her late husband. She sends this one off clinically before retreating to her moon pool.

The moment her body slices through the water, adapting and growing the fins and gills that feel more natural than anything else, she feels a modicum of peace return to her. If she is going to start spinning some puppet strings, she is going to need to recharge her magic.

[00katrinka00]

Landcaster Legacy Gen 7 Update #7

Dear Diary I haven't heard from Gianna since before we moved. I think I'm done writing to her, the last letter I sent got returned back to me, so I don't think she wants to be my friend anymore. It's all my mother's fault, for forcing this move. -Violet

Soon it was Rosie's birthday, and she got the clingy trait.

Mads was enjoying her time as a stay-at-home mother. She often felt like she missed opportunities to bond with Leo and Violet since she was working so much. So, Mads was trying to soak up every moment she got with Rosie.

The end of the school year rolled around, and it was exam time. Leo spent a lot of time studying, and it all payed off considering he aced all of his exams. It left him feeling like he was one step closer his goal of becoming valedictorian.

On Saturday, Leo decided to get out of the house and head to the local thrift/boba shop in order to pick out a birthday present for Violet. He decided to order some boba first.

Once finished Leo headed upstairs and began looking around for Violet's present. He spotted a chair that he thought Violet would like in her bedroom. After a bit of contemplation Leo decided to buy the chair for his sister.

Violet spent most of her Saturday playing with Rosie. She decided that she did enjoy having a little sister, maybe she'd wanted one all along and just never realized.

As Violet's birthday party approached Mads got started on the cake. Meanwhile Violet and Ethan chatted together. "I'm so excited for this birthday!" Violet exclaimed. "You need to stop growing up," Ethan told her. "Well it's not like I have the power to stop aging" Violet said.

"Aunt Tyler!" Violet exclaimed as she ran to the door to greet her aunt. She knew having favorite family members wasn't very nice, but Violet couldn't help but name Tyler her favorite aunt. She was everything Violet hoped to be when she grew up. "Happy birthday kiddo!"

"Violet sweetheart!" her grandmother, Ember exclaimed. "Happy birthday my sweet girl." "Thanks, grandma!"

Before anyone knew it, Mads was calling Violet into the kitchen to blow out her candles. Violet got the self-absorbed trait.

After cake mads pulled Violet aside and decided to give her, her birthday gift. "A laptop!" Violet exclaimed. "Thank you!" "This way you can work on writing your papers and doing schoolwork," Mads said. "Oh," Violet's voice fell. "Right, school."

Natasha took a seat next to Leo. "So, I went to prom with Noah yesterday," she told him bitterly. "Okay," Leo said quietly. "Why'd you lie?" "Lie about what?" "On the phone the other day," Nat said. "You lied about all that stuff Noah apparently said about Violet and your mom"

"I didn't lie, I was telling the truth," Leo said defensively. "He really said all of that." "Noah isn't like that," said Natasha. "Fine, believe whomever you want to believe then. I just can't believe you're turning into one of them." "Whatever, Leo."

"So," Ember asked. "What are your plans for the future?" "I just aged up," Violet exclaimed. "If you must know I plan on finishing High School and then moving to Del Sol Valley and becoming a singer to be famous like Tyler, like my great great grandmother Lacy."

"Oh Violet dear You know I think you're incredibly talented but becoming famous like that is one in a million If that's what you want at least go to college you can meet people, network. Make contacts already in the industry" "Let's see what Tyler says" Violet called for her aunt

"Grandma thinks I should go to college, to network," Violet said to Tyler. "You didn't go and you're famous now, tell her it's not necessary. "Violet, I agree with her. I want you to succeed and the best way to do that is by going to college. I regret not going myself."

"See, Violet," Ember said. "Networking. Even Tyler agrees. Going to college is a good idea." "It'll give you a head start," Tyler added. "Oh, screw your networking," Violet snapped before storming off.

After everyone had left, Rosie waddled over to Violet and began babbling incoherently. "Are you telling me Happy Birthday?" Violet asked. "Ya!" Rosie exclaimed. "Aw, thank you sweet girl," Violet hugged her little sister.

"I have a gift for you," Leo approached his sister. Violet opened her gift excitedly, then all of a sudden, her face fell. "It's an apple," she said glumly. "You got me an apple?" "I picked it from the fruit bowl this morning" Leo told her, he was trying to hold back his laughter

"I'm just kidding," Leo finally told her. "Here." Violet opened the gift, "oh this will go great in my room!" she exclaimed. "Thank you, Leo." "Happy birthday, Vi."

[zikitwopointoh]

So, my family used to give me self help books for Christmas. I was like 16/17 when this “tradition” started. Yeah- thanks Aunt Carol, I’ve always wondered what the power of Now can do for me. I just wanted money…and isn’t that the best gift? Just free money. That’s also the best kind of money- like someone just saying “hey here’s some money, no you don’t have to do anything for it.” Kind of like we all become pan handlers during the Christmas season.

I met a guy onetime whose main job was being a pan handler. No, this was not a social meeting- we sadly had not matched on Tender. He told me his tricks though as if he somehow felt I would need them in the future. This oddly, was not the first time someone singled me out to tell me loads of information about questionable life choices. Do I give off some kind of scent or just have a criminal chic look about me? Anyways; he would go to a group of stores I knew, they were decently affluent and he said it didn’t matter what you put on your card board sign. That he had tested this once by just putting a smiley face on his sign. I guess he was keeping track on Excel of his daily profits and after data analytics realized this. But in all reality he told me he made about $200 a day and people would buy him food and give bottles of water and “it was great.” Like this was his life’s ambition. I suppose we should be happy he achieved his dream?

Things couldn’t have been going that great for him though as he was a client in a detox facility.

This Christmas I”d like the pain in my lumbar spine to go away. I don’t know if Santa covers this or takes my insurance- to this day my parents have not told me Santa doesn’t exist. To be fair if my dad told me he would be confirming the existence of ghosts or zombies- which leads to a question no one will answer for me. Can a ghost and a zombie come from the same person? Personally, and I know this is just my religious belief, I think so.

So I’ve decided to leave in good standing aka drop out of Wake Forest. This may be very stupid. It was ridiculously easy to get into Wake Forest. It took so little effort and they wanted me so much they gave me free money I didn’t even ask for (partial scholarship). But just because Im good at the market and can make people money does not mean I give a damn about business analytics and a regression line. So, at least I learned I hated business. It only cost 10k, but the stress induced anorexia was the best diet so far to get rid of my COVID lbs.

But I do have a plan. It’s always the same backup plan I have had my entire life. It’s just a little sharper in focus because I’ve moved it from an abstract plan C (plan B was to ride the rails as a hobo) to a solid Plan B. I’ll be applying to Northwestern University for my MFA in Creative Writing. So I thought, well who are the most famous authors I know? For recommendation letters of course and I happen to know a former poet laureate. One who told me they’d never forget my name. One who has a poem that inspired one of my top five poems. So, I went to google her to find her contact info1 and she teaches at Northwestern..:so I don’t think Northwestern would be AS impressed if one of their employees wrote me a letter of recommendation….

I went over a collection of poetry I wrote today, the ones I used to gain entry into my first creative writing graduate program and my mother who is an artist understood exactly what I meant when I told her that the writing surprised me. I was such a young writer. My pieces were solid and I’m still proud of them, but I was just a baby when I wrote them. I’m sure I’ll say the same in 10 years about things I write today. Our artwork is a diary of our lives. I looked at those poems today with older and much less critical eyes. Kinder eyes realizing I was just starting to hone my craft and I was trying hard. So many bad things happened in my 20s that my writing became very dark, after all what is life if not the backdrop of your art? I’m happy to say I see my old voice coming through again. The voice that made people laugh and think. The sardonic, sarcastic asshole that I apparently have healed enough finally to become again. So in the diary of my life- I’m recovering from the trauma of my 20s.

I hope they would all be proud of me.

[zerliebt]

Thanks for the tag my beloved rat <3 <3 

1. Were you named after anyone?

My mom swears I wasn’t but I am very suspicious about holding the same first name as her beloved childhood GUINEAPIG!! >:( My middle name is the name of my grandmother and I love it dearly! 

2. When was the last time you cried?

A few weeks ago, in the middle of a restaurant, when I received a very special gift. 

3. Do you have kids?

No, and I don’t plan on having any! I know the whole “cool aunt” thing is a joke but it’s genuinely something I aspire to be in the future. 

4. What sports do you play/have you played?

A bunch, but I mainly did horse riding (volting and dressage), ice skating, ballet, and swimming! :’) Nowadays I only go to the gym and play tennis for fun from time to time. 

5. Do you use sarcasm?

As much as the next person, but I tend to avoid self-deprecative or inauthentic comments. 

6. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Attitude, the way they hold/present themselves, and how they treat others. 

7. What’s your eye color?

A muddy green-brown! 

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Scary movies with happy endings 🤝

9. Any talents?

I'm a pretty decent cook and extremely good at navigating through crowds! I also have a good memory, and am great at organizing, and learning new things! I think my best talents are a) my ability to get genuinely excited for myself and others, and b) being able to bring people together! 

10. Where were you born?

Germany, but I spent most of my early childhood in the states. 

11. What are your hobbies?

Oh man, I’m notorious for having too many rotating hobbies; I love video games, board games, and tabletop, going out to dance, cooking and baking, various DIY projects, doing my own gel nails, weightlifting, hiking, growing plant cuttings, reading, going for walks, writing, throwing dinner parties, making snail mail letters, listening to podcasts, and I love going to comedy shows! I’m also part of my friend's non-profit environmental organization and I’ve recently gotten into clay sculpting and practicing my drawing skills! I’m also learning Japanese! 

12. Do you have any pets?

Yes! A cat named Augustus and I love him so so much! 

13. How tall are you?

More or less 5’6” (same as you rags!!! kiss me rn!!) 

14. Favorite subject in school?

English because the teacher let me read my books during the lessons. 

15. Dream job?

After visiting a monastery in third grade I wanted to become a nun because I liked the food there and, I quote: “don’t like boys anyway” lmaooo 

No Pressure tags: @abyssbull @astraluminaaa @bleuu-moon @devcica @maiamars

THANK YOU FOR TAGGING ME EMILY @lemon-bats 🥰🥰

1. Were you named after anyone?

To the best of my knowledge no, at least for my real name! My internet name, Rags, I actually just ended up snagging from one of my OCs - a washed up rockstar named Cosimo Ragatz, who was a recovering drug addict that founded an indie record label with his wife.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Oh god, it was some time last week?? So much real life stuff had piled up and I think it was honestly some kind of mini-break or smth, god only knows. But I’m feeling better now lol.

3. Do you have kids?

ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY NOT LMAO. My mom passed when I was young and I raised my younger siblings, I’ve done my time in the child rearing mines and I’m never doing it again.

4. What sports do you play/have you played?

For a really long time I rode horses and I was a really good three day eventer. I also really loved archery and swimming. I also rode dirt bikes too, and I’d love to get back into it!! 🥰🥰

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Yes indeed!! But I’m not sure that I use it as much as I used to. Not for any particular reason, I don’t think dgheh.

6. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

I’m boring and predictable and I pretty much always notice height first 😂😂 I do also notice face shapes and noses, though!!

7. What’s your eye color?

Dark brown that leans pretty close to black dfhjd.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Each have their own benefits and negatives!! A time and a place for everything 👏👏

9. Any talents?

I’m a good writer, and I’m pretty good at accents! I also like to think I’m the funniest asshole in any given room at any time 😂😅

10. Where were you born?

Commonwealth of Virginia babeyyyyy 🦩 there aren’t cardinal emojis, but I’m still barely south enough to be southern lol.

11. What are your hobbies?

I like posting video games, writing, playing dnd, a lil bit of digital art. Painting my nails. Dfhjd. Running outta stuff here, uhhhh. Panicking trying to remember my meds, but that’s more a full time occupation lol.

12. Do you have any pets?

Four dogs (a cocker spaniel, a border collie, a pit bull, and a boxer lab 🥰🥰), some barn cats, and a little grade paint horse named Rooster who’s a complete ASSHOLE.

13. How tall are you?

5’6” or 5’7”, it depends on how tall I want to feel that day dghjd

14. Favorite subject in school?

History and English!!! I really wanted to be a historical researcher for a career when I was in school and I still think about it. I would’ve liked to study Appalachian history from pre-Civil War to present.

15. Dream job?

LOL 😂😂 historical researcher, possibly an author, or a rare and antique jewelry shop owner siiigh. I really fell in love with fine jewelry at my last job, and I would DIE to be able to do it again, but in a much more niche fashion.

No Pressure tags: @smoggyfogbottom @brilliantblasphemer @dotcie @kastlequill @skinnyazn @snail-eggs @lunarvicar @siriusleee 💖💖

[urimaginespimp]

Ivy

Alfie Solomons x Shelby Sister Reader where she’s betrothed by Thomas for a truce, now her and Alfie’s secret love affair is in thin line.

A/N: Here I go again, associating an Evermore track to Alfie. Sorry not sorry!

--------

The air was cold at dawn. You’ve been sitting alone in a cemetery since last night, dreading the moment the day was slowly breaking, and how it reminded you of how time of his arrival was getting nearer.

No, you weren’t there to visit a deceased loved one, but might as well have started grieving for yourself. This was the haven where you would often meet Alfie to either stay and talk in each other’s arms, or where he’d fetch you and bring you somewhere you could freely be with each other for a night.

A full year of secret meetups undetected led you both from solely enjoying each other’s company and wits, to being inseparable. Your special spot was a few feet away from the actual gravestones. It was under a huge tree nearby.

You knew from the start that your fondness with each other would never be accepted by your family. And the odds of them actually even coming close to being open on the idea of you both became slimmer every time Alfie would get power in his head and betray your family despite your friendship.

Months would pass of you ignoring his apologies and notes pleading to meet; To be only forgiven when he’s in Thomas’ good graces again. But it became increasingly difficult to be warry of him when you started feeling funny whenever he’d laugh at your jokes, or when he’d offer his coat for both of you to stay under when it starts drizzling and you both forgot to bring an umbrella.

He’s started a goddamn blaze in you.

Now how were you to tell the lone man you’ve ever loved that your brother was planning on marrying you off for a truce?

You only found out last night, leading to you throwing a fit for the very first time towards your brother who tried to calm you down and make you understand the benefit it would bring to the family – much like what he did to John. The way he told you sounded like it was a mere suggestion. But you knew better that he’s already fixed it.

In a fit of tears and frustration from not being able to give him the truth to why you refuse to concede, Polly barging in the study to intervene and ask what was going on was your take to leave and go to your room, shouting loudly that he better leaves you alone that night.

It took you the night trying to write everything down for Alfie. How you were to be married, and begging him not to intervene. Because as much as you love him, you couldn’t risk him and your family being in another war with the still unknown family you were to be part of.

Sneaking out later on, that’s how you found yourself in your favorite spot in the cemetery crying your heart out, and reminiscing all the memories you hold so dear with Alfie.

Taking a deep breath, your hand took the folded page of paper from your coat pocket. You almost crumpled it and wait for Alfie to tell him yourself. But you were a coward and just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. Not when you know you wouldn’t be able to open your mouth without breaking down.

Taking a rock big enough to hold it in place, you placed your open letter under the tree and willed yourself to walk away from both your favorite place and your happiness that morning.

It’s been days and you have not uttered a word to your family. Still crying yourself to sleep every night, it became increasingly harder not to call Alfie and beg for forgiveness and ask him to take you away.

Alfie himself was sending your office missives after missives, asking you to see him at least. But all of it were left unanswered and kept in one of your desk’s drawers.

Tonight, was the celebration of your engagement and the first time you were to meet the man you were to be married to. You’ve learned from Polly that he was from a wealthy Italian family, about your age, and that he’s already seen you before and was actually the one to ask Thomas for your hand in marriage.

What a puss. You thought, He couldn’t even ask you and get rejected personally.

Well at least the dress he sent was decent. But hell were to freeze over before you would even consider wearing it.

Opening your closet, your hands skimmed through your numerous formal dresses, and finally landed on one that meant so much to you. It was beautiful, fit you perfectly, and it was a gift from Alfie.

They don’t know it’s from him, but you had to admit that wearing it in front of your family and future husband would be a satisfying last act of proclaiming your love for the King of Camden town.

The night began rather peacefully. It seemed that you were the only one miserable in the occasion thrown for you.

The man you were to marry was alright. He was polite, charming even. But he was a shy pup compared to a beast like Alfie. Sooner or later, you had to stop thinking about him.  

“What’s the Jew doing here, Tommy?” you heard your aunt ask Tommy discretely.

“I invited him, Poll. All bad blood in the past, he’s a good business partner.” He explained to your aunt.

But the rest of the conversation drowned out for you. He’s here.

For the first time in the entire night of the party, you moved from the corner you were sulking on, looking for the pair of opal eyes you were wishing to see. To hell with the Italian boy.

You were turning on every corner looking for him. If he really were in here, you figured he’d be in a corner somewhere like usual.

“I knew you’d look absolutely beautiful in that dress.” A voice called out just loud enough for you to catch. Snapping to the direction it came from, your eyes met Alfie’s.

He was dressed formally as asked, his beard was trimmed, and he had his hat on.

“Alfie I-“

“I’ll take a dance, yes.” He cut you off, not wanting to make you cry in front of the guests. Taking your hands in his freezing ones, he led you to the dance floor.

“I though you hated dancing in public?” you mused at him, placing your hands by his shoulders, ignoring the lump in your throat.  

“If this were to be our last one, everyone else be damned, yeah?” He answered, looking at you lovingly. You smiled. How could he still look at you so endearingly even after your cowardness?

“The wine’s shite by the way.” He commented, trying to make you laugh. He couldn’t stand looking so defeated anymore. You couldn’t resist breaking into a laugh, and bit your tongue from telling him the drinks are courtesy of your future husband.

Polly and Arthur were stood near each other, looking at the both of you dancing, when your aunt finally spoke up.

“She hasn’t cracked a smile ever since the night Thomas told her.” She told the oldest Shelby brother. “And all it took was for Solomons to dance with her.”

“Yeah, looking at ‘em makes me almost forget the bastard tried to kill me. It’s almost as if they’re…” Arthur didn’t get to finish what he was to say from the sudden realization. He knew that look. Yes, he’d never seen you look at anyone like that, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was - the color coming back to your face, almost as if it actually lit up at the presence of Camden town’s king.

Turning to Poll, she was already smirking at him. “She couldn’t tell Thomas the real reason she doesn’t to be married off for business. But you’re the eldest, Arthur, and when it’s on matters of your siblings’ personal happiness, you have to put your foot down.” Patting the back of his shoulder, she took her drink to go who knows.

“Is there somewhere we can talk, luv?” Alfie asked you quietly, sliding his hand on your shoulder, to your hand where he held it.

Looking around you, relief washed over when you saw that the guests were immersed in their own conversations and dance partners.

“Meet me in my room in a few minutes. It’s the third door at the right hall, and I’ll keep it slightly open.” You nervously told him, trying to keep your voice low.

Letting go of him, you acted natural, smiling at guests your way.

--------

In your room, you stood fidgeting with your fingers. The light from the crescent moon that peeked through your window was the only source of light.

What if he got lost and mistakenly entered Tommy’s office? Or that he decided to confront that fiancé of yours?

You were saved from the panic attack rising when your door finally creaked open bigger, and the silhouette of the man you love came in.

But before you could talk, his lips met yours desperately. Alfie hoped that his kiss would be able to tell you how much he’s missed you, how the past days felt like absolute hell, and how it led him to be willing in being a mister for you. A mister.

“Are you sure that brother of yours won’t be looking for ya? What if he found us out, pet?” He asked in between kisses to your neck.

“He’s gonna burn this house to the ground” you answered, gasping when he squeezed you in closer to him. You almost hated having to stop him. “Alfie, we came here to talk.” You weakly pushed him off you.

His eyes under the moonlight was glistening. It was only now that you realized he was crying. Taking his face in your hands, you held it gently, wiping his damp cheek.

“Alfie, I love you, okay? Everything that we had – no matter how it was only stolen moments, I’d live and die just to experience them again. But I can’t risk losing you and or anyone from my family for my personal reasons.” You tried to sound brave in front of him, knowing that the second you’d break, he’d take you with him.

He shook his head. “Now that’s just selfish of that brother of yours, pet. You know I could help settle any problem he has with ‘em Italians. He didn’t have to drag you into this.”

“And what, have him figure out why you’d go through great lengths for his sister whom you never seemed to care about?” Whenever Thomas was in the same room as you, the both of you would only resort to a formal greeting and not even try to converse. That was how you were able to keep it up so long. “It’s either I run or we dare come clean to him and see what we’ll become. He’ll find me either way, or he’ll shoot you dead.”

Alfie moved away from you, and walking by the window to take a breath and calm his nerves.

Suddenly the door to your bedroom was kicked completely open, revealing Arthur and Tommy who looked like they were ready to murder.

You didn’t know what came over you, but you immediately stood straight as if ready to block them before they could get to Alfie. But to your surprise, Arthur stayed standing by the doorway, and it was only Thomas who took a step closer.

“Alfie, you have one chance to tell me that what Arthur's saying isn’t true.” Tommy was seething, ordering him. “You of all people know my sisters are off limits.”

“It’s true, Tom.” You answered before Alfie could even open his mouth. If he were to push through marrying you off, at least leave him with the guilt for snatching your life away. “I love him.” Relief from finally being able to say it in front of your brothers washed over you.

“I am not gonna let you use my sister for whatever scheme it is that you fu-

“I was gonna ask her to marry me, you fucker!” Alfie growled from behind you, before finally reaching your side. You stood there gaping at him, having been clueless as well of his intentions.

“I went to meet her in our spot with a fucking ring in my hand, right. And what do I find? A letter from her telling me that some scum wants what’s only mine, and her cunt of a brother is allowing it!”

Arthur having been satisfied from what Alfie said, was smiling at you across the room. “And as the eldest of the family, I give you my blessing, so long as you promise to protect her.” He spoke, nodding at him. You wanted to run into your brother’s arms in gratitude, but Thomas spoke up again.

“Don’t celebrate yet, Alfie." He both looked at you with a stern expression. "There are Italians out there still thinking that there’s a marriage happening in a fortnight.”

Alfie scoffed at your brother’s statement. As if he hasn’t dealt with them before.

Taking your hand in his, he turned to your brother once more. “And what is expected to happen when I call off the marriage?” He asked him.

“I’m gonna start a war” you answered nervously.

Squeezing your hand, he turned to you. “Then it's gonna be the goddamn fight of my life, pet.”

[fandomscombine]

Baseless Jealousy

Oliver Wood Cousin!Reader x Jealous!Fred Weasley

WC:2307

BG: Fred and y/n’s relationship is currently 3 years long strong. After a summer apart, it seems to be a 3rd party had become closer to y/n. Is it something that Fred has to worry about or is it just baseless jealousy?

a/n: The pairing the won for this fic is Oliver Wood Cousin!Reader x Jealous! Fred Weasley, Thanks so much for voting!

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

>>JOIN MY WRITING CHALLENGE!<<

--

You and Fred started dating 3 years ago. Fred would like to believe that the relationship is strong, other people believes it so too. However ever since the start of 5th year, something started to get on his nerves, or should he say someone.

See, Fred had noticed you getting closer to his Quidditch captain, Oliver wood. He didn’t want to blame it on the summer you two spent apart but he could quite help himself. You had spent the entire apart, no letters whatsoever. At first, he tried to be understanding, it was after all a summer you and your family spent in Italy while attending your aunt’s wedding, you had told him that this was the first time in 8 years that the whole side of your mother’s family was present as they were all scattered into various parts of the world. He understood the importance of family so he had let it slide that you and he hadn’t communicated in the past 2 months- besides, it must be really exhausting to overwork the owls to post cross country.

Which was why he was so excited to finally see you in person at Platform 9 ¾ on the first of September, to his dismay, you had arrived with Oliver Wood. Back then he had pushed his jealousy aside and concluded as a coincidence that you had turned up together at the barrier. You and Oliver are just friends, he told himself, and that was completely fine.

Fred had sneaked a hug behind you and whispered into your ear. ‘Had a great summer?’

You had jumped at the touch but once you realised who is was from you relaxed. ‘Ohh Freddie!’ You turned and hit his chest. ‘Don’t scare me like that!’ Earning a laugh from him. ‘I did, I had such great times catching up with my cousins! You wouldn’t believe how much trouble we almost got into. But of course.’ Your fingers played with the back of his head. ‘I missed having my love around.’

~

‘Hey love I’m off to Quidditch practice now.’ Fred informed, kissing your cheek. ‘Will you be there?’ Ever since you and Fred got together 3 years ago, you would go cheer him on during Quidditch practices whenever you can.

This year however, more are at stake.

During the semi-finals, Quidditch matches are dotted with professional quidditch team mangers in hopes to scout for potential recruits to join their team upon graduation.

It is rumoured that the manager for Puddlemere United would be attending the next match, Hufflepuff vs Gryffindor. Puddlemere United being Oliver’s favourite and dream team, he had been pushing the team with more frequent trainings then ever, hoping to perform the best game they would ever play, to further increase his chances to chosen to be part of the team.

You looked up from the letter you were writing. ‘Yep, just gotta make a quick stop to the owlery. I’ll soon you soon okay?’

~

Arriving at the owlery, a large parcel instantly caught your eye. ‘Oh mum..’ Examining for any potential damage, which thankfully weren’t any.

The barn owl nearest it hooted. ‘Alright! Alright! I was looking if there were damages.’ The owl flapped its wings in annoyance. ‘Here,’ offering your owl some treats. ‘You’ll need to store up some energy on the way back.’ Another hoot sounded, this time from a grey owl, that you recognised belonged too your mother. ‘There’s some for you too.’ After the 2 owls finished their food, you attached your letter your owl’s leg. ‘This is for mother, a thank you note on behalf of Ollie. I’ll write another when we see his reaction to this-I can’t wait.’ You bid the 2 birds goodbye, watching until they disappear unto the horizon.

Now you turn to face your major problem. You had thought that your mother would have had it placed in a box, rather what you got was a large parcel that is clearly wrapped with parchment, with no subtlety in hiding what it truly is.

~

You had finally manged to sneak the parcel into the Gryffindor boys’ locker room, though it had taken a lot more effort than you thought.

You were just leaving when you had bumped into someone.

‘oopf! Sorr-‘

‘y/n love! What are you doing here?’  Fred wondered, looking over your shoulder, trying to figure out what you were up to. ‘You missed the whole practice.’

‘ohh it’s nothing really----Ayyeee! Not so fast!’ You grabbed Harry’s shoulder, preventing him in enter any further. In all honestly, you hadn’t hidden Oliver’s surprise well, there aren’t a lot of hiding places in the changing room. Determined to not ruin the surprise, you need, you must get Oliver to see it first. ‘Had any of you seen Oli-‘

Right then you heard his unmistakably Scottish accent. ‘I’m just saying George, with this new and improve game plan, we are for sure going win the House Cup!’

‘Oliver!’ You shouted, pushing your boyfriend and Harry aside to reach him. ‘Come quick, I’ve got something to show you!’ With all your strength you hauled him to move faster.

‘What is it now y/n? Can’t you see I’m……..’ Oliver had come to a stop. Based on his sudden lack of complaining, you knew he spotted it.

‘It’s a gift from mum and dad. We thought it would future help your chances to be in the professional league.’ You noted. ‘I wasn’t sure which one of these was your locker, so I decided to just hide it behind the benches.’

Oliver hurriedly torn away the wrappings. ‘Oh my…. y/n! A FIREBOLT!’ He turned towards his teammates with eyes watery. ‘A FIREBOLT, A 1993 EBONY WOOD WITH BIRCH TWIGS FIREBOLT!’ He declared with glee.

Too caught up in your cousin’s precious reaction to your gift, you however had failed to noticed Fred displeasure.

‘I think I’m gonna be sick. So much for a girlfriend.’ He grumbled to George. ‘Excuse me.’ Shoving his broom to Harry, Fred walked out of the locker room.

The next thing you knew, you were spinning through the air. Oliver had lifted you in celebration, ‘Thank you y/n thank you so much!’ He mumbled into your hair. ‘Pass on my gratitude to Aunty and Uncle.’  

‘Wait? Did you just say Aunty and Uncle?’ voiced a very confused Harry.

‘Yea.’ Confirmed Oliver. ‘Y/n is my cousin.’

George’s bafflement turned into a startle. ‘You’re joking right?’

‘No, why would be joking George?’ You frowned. ‘Didn’t you know?’

‘Nope’ He replied, popping the “p”. ‘Now it clears everything up. Freddie is going to be--.’

‘Speaking of, where is Freddie?’ You scanned around, wondering where he might have gone to. Which was when you spotted Harry holding up not one but two brooms. ‘Harry…’

‘y/n listen…..Freddie is uhh ’ George was trying to come up how to break it to you gently.

When Harry blurted out. ‘He left.’

‘He whot?’ demanded Oliver.

‘He left, said something about being sick of his girlfriend.’ Commented Harry frankly. ‘owhh!’

Even though it would have been too late to stop Harry from spitting out more wrongfully worded sentences- the damaged has been done- It still made George happy to put some sense into him. Praying that a smack on the head would have made Harry shut up, George took control of the situation, hoping it could still salvage the weakening remain of his twin’s and y/n relationship.

‘Listen y/n. Regarding my idiot brother, you got to know that he, like everyone else in the room, had thought that you and Oliver were flirting with each other.’

‘eww!’ You couldn’t control your reflex.

‘yeah, his emotions got to the best of him when he witnessed everything that got down here and stormed out because of jealousy.’

‘Oh gosh.’ You head towards the door, you could see a red figure walking towards the castle, kicking at fallen leaves every now and then. ‘I’ve got to get to him.’

You felt someone grab your arm ‘No let me handle this y/n.’ voiced Oliver. ‘I’m part of this… complication after all, besides I bet Fred’s fuming right now and as your older cousin, I am willing to take the heat and make him see reason until he has finally calmed down to talk to you with a clear head.’ He explained reassuringly.

‘But---

‘No buts.’ Oliver kissed your forehead. ‘Stay here and send for him back so all this misunderstanding could be sorted out. Now…’ he addressed Harry to get his new firebolt. ‘I’ve got a relationship to fix.’ Oliver hopped on the broom and sped away.

~

‘Fred! Fred!’ Screamed Oliver.

Fred choose to ignore him, picking up his pace.

Leaving Oliver with no choice but to cut him off.

‘WEASLEY!’ Oliver jumped off his broom.

‘Get Out of My Way Wood!’ Fred raised his hand to shove the other boy away but met with resistance. ‘I SAID GET OUT!’ Fred tried to free his fist from Oliver’s grasp, but the older boy was much stronger.

‘Not until you calm down and listen to what I have to say.’

‘Fine.’ Oliver let go of him, he raised his arms high in surrender. ‘y/n sent you, didn’t she?’

‘No. I came here on my own will. I told her to stay behind to protect her.’ Oliver confessed.

‘To protect her?’ scoffed Fred. ‘From what? From me?’

‘Yes, as a matter of fact.’

‘Oh of course, it’s HER who needs protecting and not me. Not me, after I see you both shamelessly act so close to one another, closer, might I tell you then her own boyfriend! If was as if I wasn’t there’

‘Fred,’

Fred brushed his hand away, ignoring Oliver’s interruption. ‘When did you two get so close anyway? You know at first, I tried to pass it off as friendship but as time when on, I could help but think-‘

‘Y/N IS MY COUSIN!’ blurted Oliver, unable to hear another person thinking that they were other than family. ‘THERE’S NOTHING GOING ON BETWEEN US!’

‘what?’  

‘Apparently for some reason most of you lot don’t know. George and Harry were just as surprised too. But yes, y/n is my cousin, on my father’s side. My father and her mother are brothers and sisters. I thought with all these years we’ve known each other that you’d know we’re related. Guess I was wrong.’

‘I….I didn’t know.. I’m sorry.’

‘Apology accepted but we both know there is someone more deserving of hearing that apology.’ Oliver nodded towards the locker room. ‘She’s there waiting.’

‘Thank you, Oliver.’ He held out his hand. ‘Friends?’

‘Friends’ Oliver shook his hand, the stared straight into his eyes. ‘BUT…’

‘but?’

‘But if you hurt her again Weasley, you have me to answer for, that is of course after she’s done her share.’ Without another word, Oliver flew off, testing out his new gift.

~

Fred ran full speed ahead, praying that he didn’t completely ruin a wondering 3-year relationship with the girl of his dreams. Before entering the room, he conjured up a bouquet of your favourite flowers, hoping that could help out his image.

Testing the waters, he called. ‘y/n? are you in here love?’

‘In here’ you sighed. He hated hearing you so sad. He hated it more that it was him causing you to feel that way.

Cautiously he made his way to you with arms outstretched. You accepted the flowers, to that he let himself relax a bit, bringing them up to you nose, you noted. ‘They smell nice, thank you.’

Fred was grateful that you hadn’t scolded him off on his baseless jealousy, still he knew he had to apologize and win his girl back. Kneeling in front where you sat, Fred took your hands and poured out his heart.

‘Y/n, I am sorry. I made a huge mistake, I… I got jealous of how you had gotten close to Oliver this year.’ He confessed.’ Ever since the start of this year, I thought that Oliver was stealing you away from me. I thought that perhaps you two had something going on behind my back.’

Chuckling to himself he continued. ‘I didn’t even realise that you were cousins until he told me just now. I feel so stupid. 3 years together, 5 years of knowing you. It was so obvious.’ Fred closed his eyes.

‘Still, with my worries, I should have asked, asked what you and Oliver were.’ He stressed. ‘I should have come and talked to you, to sort this out like what a, healthy, trusting and understanding relationship would. But instead I keep all my doubts and insecurities brew, I went deep into my own conclusions that were without evidence, I let my jealousy get the best of me.’

Fred brought your knuckles to his lips. ‘y/n love, I’m sorry. I love you and if you want a space, I understand. But there is no a day in this world where I would not rather be back in your loving arms. I hope that you could forgive me.’

‘Freddie, I forgive you.’ You cup his tear stained cheek. ‘It was just a stupid misunderstanding.’

Gesturing for him to sit beside you ‘I thought it was common knowledge that Oliver and I are cousins. Apparently not. Yes, we weren’t that close before.’ You admitted.  ‘But we really did get to know each other in the summer. 5 weeks either being sounded by adult relatives or small children, we hung out often, being the only 2 cousins similar in age.’

You return back into a more serious tone. ‘Of course, I did wish you had voiced it out, we could have avoided this conflict altogether. So, promise me this. Whatever problems may arise, before we delved into our own assumptions, we would always talk it out. Alright?’

‘I promise.’

~

Taglist [All/General]: @gruffle1​

Tagging also all those who voted for the~Oliver Wood Cousin!Reader x Jealous!Fred Weasley~ Thank you! @jenniweaslee​ @ najiler @ im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @ gweaslvy and the lovely anons!

[darethshirl]

OC Interview: Lyanna Lavellan

Thank you so much to @noire-pandora and @morganlefaye79 for tagging me for such a fun OC game! I had a blast writing this. 💜💜 I’m tagging in turn @rosella-writes, @melisusthewee, @cleverblackcat, @thevikingwoman, @ammocharis, @in-arlathan, @dreadfutures and anyone else who wants to do it!

Introduction

This event was organized a few weeks prior to the Winter Palace ball. Ambassador Josephine Montilyet had invited a few Orlesian journalists to Skyhold to interview the newly appointed Inquisitor.

Can you introduce yourself?

She looks at the speaker with a clear and steady gaze. “I am Lyanna vir Lavellan.”

What is your gender identity, orientation, and relationship status?

She tilts her head. “I don’t believe in labels, or constraints. I’m attracted to people first, not particular identities. And as for my relationship status...” She gives a coy smile. “Let’s just say I’m not searching right now.”

Where and when were you born?

"In my clan, somewhere in the Free Marches, 30 summers ago.”

What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

"Bow and arrow, and my one trusty dagger. I prefer picking out enemies from a distance, one by one, and going unnoticed during battle... but if I’m forced into close combat I have no problems getting my hands bloody. Also, ever since I became the Inquisitor I’ve received extra training on being stealthy.” Her eyes twinkle. “Not that I needed it.”

And finally, are you happy?

“Yes, I am. I have many things in my life to be grateful for.”

Family and friends

What is your family like? What is your relationship like with them?

She sighs, and looks slightly at the distance. “It’s a long story, and I won’t share the details, but my mother died when I was young and my father was never in the picture. I was raised by my aunt alongside my cousin Syranna.” She turns back to the speaker with a smile. “I’m very grateful for the family I have, and I love them both dearly. I wish I could see them more often than I do.”

Have you ever run away from home?

“I never needed to! Whenever I was feeling antsy as a teenager - or even older - my Keeper would always give me permission to visit other clans, or would just give me a mission that took me far enough away for the restlessness to dissipate.”

"Would you want to get married or have children?

"No.” She doesn’t elaborate.

Do you secretly hate any of your friends?

She raises a single eyebrow. “If I hated them, then they wouldn’t be my friends.”

What friend knows everything about you?

"I think all my friends know things about me. They all have pieces of my soul with them, and together, they all comprise me.”

Asked by fans

Can you read and write? Did you go to school?

"I learned to write and read elven runes by my hahrens, as all children of my clan did. As for human letters, I admit those give me more trouble. I had to learn as an adult, and in some ways I am still learning.”

The scariest prediction you made that later came true?

"I don’t actually think about the future. I don’t think I’ve ever made a prediction, true or otherwise.”

What is something you embarrassingly realised too late?

"Well...” She shifts. “When I was a child, I was convinced I’d eventually display my own magic. My cousin and aunt both had magic, so why wouldn’t I?” She shrugs with a self-deprecating smile. “It took me too long to realise that it wasn’t meant to be, for me.”

Do you have mental or physical problems?

“No, none for now.”

What's your main goal right now?

Her expression turns smooth and neutral. “To defeat Corypheus.”

Choices

Drink or eat?

“Food, definitely.” She suddenly chuckles. “Don’t tell Varric, but I don’t actually like the taste of alcohol.”

Cats or dogs?

She thinks about this with surprising seriousness, frowning for a long time. “...Cats, I think. It’s a hard choice, but at least cats are more independent.”

Optimist or pessimist?

"There are certain people who consider me a pessimist. But if you ask me, I’m simply a realist.”

Sassy or sarcastic?

She quirks a smile. “Aren’t those the same thing? Anyway, I’d like to think I’m neither.”

HAVE YOU EVER:

Been caught sneaking out?

Her eyes twinkle with humour. “Didn’t I tell you before? I’m good at sneaking.”

Broken a bone?

"No, but it was pure luck that I didn’t!”

Did you get flowers?

"My cousin and I used to gift each other flowers - or other pretty trinkets - regularly as children. As an adult, I’m usually the one giving flowers rather than receiving them.”

Ghosting someone?

"Right now? No.” Her gaze is cool and steady. “But I can, if I have to.”

You pretended to laugh at a joke you did not get?

“I’ve never pretended, but if someone laughs at their own joke I tend to laugh with them.” Her smile turns warm. “I just find it endearing.”

[olivarryprompts]

Fanfic Friday #11

Welcome to Fanfic Friday! Each Friday I post a new here and on A03. Enjoy x

Read and save it on A03 here https://archiveofourown.org/works/33567529

{fancy suits from dad}

Ships: Peter Stark & Tony Stark, Pepper Pots/Tony Stark

Warnings: swearing, just fluff otherwise :)

Wc: 2,319

Here’s the thing, Peter Parker grew up in Stark Tower, which eventually became Avengers Tower of course. So whilst his whole class was buzzing about their field trip, all he could think was, “shit, shit shit.” His dad was going to embarrass the hell out of him. His Aunts and Uncles were going to endlessly tease him.

So, no Peter was not looking forward to the field trip. Not in the slightest. He still wanted to go, though. He knew that the rumors of his internship being fake were started by Flash, the annoying teen. He also knew that Flash had not once said his real name, preferring the name Penis Parker. It didn’t bother him as much as it used to. Also since highschool began, Flash had calmed down with his bullying. Well, maybe Flash hadn’t calmed down and high school was just bigger and he had thicker skin. And a new support system with plenty of people to go to.

Peter had been adopted by the Starks when he was a mere ten years old. At first, he was terrible at receiving any gifts or even too much attention. Slowly but surely, he got more and more used to it. Now, he wouldn’t not know what to do if any of that was taken away. Plus, he really did find a liking for expensive suits, however shallow. He looked good in them, and his father always insisted on buying him more and more. Tony would always find an excuse to spoil the kid a little more, however much Pepper tried to stop him.

“Peter, please see me after class regarding an urgent matter.”

Brough out of his thoughts, Peter swiftly nodded his head.

He looked at the board to see the words from before still written on them, “Field Trip to Stark Industries!” It might as well have said, “Dig Peter Stark’s Grave!”

“So, let’s get started with today’s lesson, graphing imaginary numbers on the complex plane!” He’d done this one a while back with his father. Something about not only learning applicable science and engineering. Peter tapped his glass, and the episode of Arrow he’d been watching on the car ride over began playing. He’d be ever grateful for his father’s gift of EDITH to him. Pepper had tried to ban him from wearing them to school, but hastily gave up when Peter pulled the spiderman danger card.

“Alright, class dismissed. Please remember to do this homework pages 11-18 on this unit’s homework handout.”

Peter, forgetting his teacher's previous request, was very glad to be on his way home. He was one foot out of the door when the teacher called his name. Now, his day had gone pretty well up to that point. Bucky made pancakes for breakfast, which were delicious. There was wayyy less traffic on the way to school. He’d aced an essay and a couple of quizzes, and then he even participated in PE effectively. But alas, all good things had to come to an end.

“Mr. Parker? The discussion.”

“Right,” Peter thought, joining the teacher at his desk.

“Peter, you are truly a great kid. I know you’ve been through a lot recently and in your life, but it is no excuse to make up an internship. We both know that it is not real. Now, acknowledging that you have a bright future, the administration and I have come forward with an offer. If you agree to write an apology, expressing that you understand what you did was wrong and immoral, you will both be allowed to come on the trip and no punishment will be given to you. If you choose to not take this opportunity, you will be banned from the trip and will be chastised.

Peter just stood there, not really comprehending. Apparently Flash’s little rumors were a lot bigger than he anticipated.

“I-i-I’m not lying,” was all he could manage. He had filed all the right paperwork and proved his internship.

“I’m sorry to hear that you will not come forward with the truth. You have up until the day before the trip to hand in the letter if you change your mind. Goodbye Peter.”

Peter just let his legs take him out of the classroom, then out of the school, and then to the road, a couple blocks away, where his dad picks him up from.

“Hello mini-me.”

“Hey,” Peter said, jumping into the passenger seat.

“‘Hi Dad, thanks so much for taking time out of your busy schedule to pick me up each and every day. Sick new car by the way! I’d love to drive it sometime!”

Peter just rolled his eyes with a smile, “Car looks great dad. McLarren’s are superior yet.”

“Ungrateful, so so ungrateful. What’s got you in a mood then?”

“Nothin,” Peter said, pulling out his phone.

“Oh come on, tell me. Tell me or I’ll call Ted.”

“Ned, Dad. We’ve been friends for like three years.”

“Not the point.”

“Just something at school.”

“Wow how very descriptive. You know I’m trying to do the whole feelings thing here, and you should appreciate that coming from my emotionally stunted self.”

“You’re so dramatic. Basically we’re having a field trip to your tower, and I’m not allowed to go because the teacher doesn’t think I really have an “internship.” Which, to be fair I don’t but that’s on you and not me.”

“Nah na na. I offered you an internship, and you said I’d be bored.”

“It would be. Doing a project for your company under strict supervision of some person would be sucky. I mean I can do anything I want from the lab you built me.”

“I know, but remember technically you are my intern. Remember we did that whole personal intern bullshit for the school.”

“Oh right. Is that why you keep harassing me about submitting all my completed projects.”

“No, that’s all your mother. Something about not wanting a lawsuit over a fake internship.”

“Make sense. She tends to be a lot smarter than you.”

“Ah, I feel so attacked. The abuse I suffer.”

“You’re terrible.”

“I am internally crying, kid. Sobbing.”

“Shut up,” we laughed.

“Who’s home?”

“You saw Buck and Sam this morning. Nat and Steve came back from their mission this afternoon. Thor and Loki are back for dinner tonight.. Strange might be coming round, not sure though. Cliff and the family aren’t back for at least a couple weeks. Oh and Bruce is wholed up in his lab as usual.”

“Shit. Everyone staying till the end of the week.”

“Yeah, oh the field trip. You’re screwed. You should have not told me.”

“Ughhhhh!!!”

“I love your life Petey.”

Peter walked into the kitchen and saw Steve reading a newspaper.

“Uncle Steve! Your back!” he smiled, dropping his bag off near the sofa. Steve got up to give the smaller boy a hug.

“Yep. Mission completed.”

“Nice. Can you tell me about it?”

“Yeah, it was nothing too interesting. We just needed some more intel into a terrorist organization stationed in the US. Most of the mission was recon. The next steps are being taken in a couple weeks.”

“Good to know there’s an active terrorist organization out there,” Peter said lightly.

Steve just smiled, not quite understanding the modern humor.

“Where is everyone else?” he said, realizing the living room was not in it’s normal chaotic state that he’d come to love. The chaos was his favorite reminder that he had so many people. He liked having lots of people, even after all this time.

“Nat and Buck are training, they invited you to join if you want. Bruce is in his lab, and dont worry he slept and ate last night. Not sure about the rest.”

“Right, thanks. I think I’m going to go train.”

Before he knew it, it was Friday morning, and his school was coming to his home. He was going to try very hard to ignore them. To do so, he asked his mum to let him sit in on some meetings. He had an easy in to the R&D and mechanical side of the company via the other interns. He was actually planning on hanging out with some of the “other” interns later that day. They were always happy to let Pete in on their projects and let him give them a hand. But he was always interested in getting more detail about the business side of the company, and he liked to get a window into it. Pepper was always happy to show her son the ropes. I mean he was heir to the company after all, even if he didn’t know yet.

He asked his mum to only schedule meetings after 12 as he requested a sleep in. Pepper was always happy when Peter slept as he was a little too much like his father. So, he woke bright and early at 11:00 o’clock.

After a scroll through his phone and a quick shower, he was ready to pull on his far too expensive Brunellio’s custom suit. It was one of his favorites. His father had got it custom made when he was in Italy, and told him he simply could not resist getting one for the kid. Pepper just smiled.

He had a large breakfast (enhanced metabolism) and headed towards the 34th floor where his first meeting was located. He’d been shadowing his mum for almost a year now whenever it was convenient, so he had the rointine down. He was almost sure he could take over a few of her meetings.

“Hi honey,” Pepper said, giving the boy a quick kiss on the cheek on the way to her own chair beside him. Peter blushed before resuming his professional posture and facial expression.

“Good morning everyone, as you can see Peter will be joining us today. I want to talk about some of the services we provide for our employees and their feedback. I’m aware we have a large portion to talk about so Kendra please take it away on that front.”

The first meeting went smoothly as planned. It was a discussion on the progress of the internal services, aka the IT department. Peter hadn’t learned much about their IT department, so it was good to listen in to. Pre these meetings, he, of course, does research into the background stuff, so he’s not completely lost. Pepper’s assistant usually provides him with a packet of info about the Stark Industries side of things. He is also given a list of key words and concepts he might want to make sure he understands. The research is fun for him, it makes him feel all professional.

Usually he spoke during the meetings, asking a couple questions and suggesting some ideas, but for this one he just learned and took in. The next meeting, however, was very much so his field. He’d spoken a lot with advertising, becoming very interested in the data analysis behind it. He even took a stats class so he could keep up. In that one he asked questions Pepper was on the verge of asking twice. He also contributed to the analysis of data once. Pepper usually liked him to participate as it was good for him, but he always felt bad suggesting stuff to the senior adults. He usually spoke to his mum or dad about projects for the company, preferring that.

They hung back in the room of the second meeting.

“Good job in this one Pete. Took two questions right off my tongue.”

“Thanks ma,” he said, always appreciating some approval.

“That’s all I’ve got for you today, kid. Rest of the stuff is, ya know.”

“Course. Thanks for these two. It was good to learn about internal affairs a bit more. Have a gap of knowledge there.”

“Yeah. Was that the first time meeting our CIT?”

“I believe so.”

“Well, next time we have a broader IA meeting, I’ll pull you outta school,” Pepper suggested.

“Really? That’d be epic.”

“Course, hun. Jarvis, sort that out please.”

“Of course Mrs. Potts.”

“Thanks J,” Peter yelled.

“Anytime mini-boss. No need to disturb the entire floor.”

“Are AI supposed to be so snarky?”

“Dad programmed it, what else would it be?”

“Valid point.”

“Right, got to run. See you later.”

“Bye, love you mum!”

“Love you too, Pete.”

“Jarvis, could you send me the tour plan for the visiting tour today?”

“Absolutely, sir. They’re on your phone now.”

“Thanks J.”

Looking at the plans Peter smiled. He had successfully avoided them the entire day. It said they were supposed to head back to school at 2:30, and it was about to be three. Smile on his face, he trotted down to the lobby to grab a coffee before going to meet Loki at the arcade. Don’t judge them, it was their thing. Taking the private lift down, and then walking straight to the coffee stand and ordering.

“Mr. Parker!” he heard the angry voice of his teacher, “How dare you show up here aft-”

Shit. shit. Shit.

“Edith, call dad, and tell him it’s urgent in the lobby.”

“Of course Peter.”

“Peter, are you listening to me! You are going to face extreme consequences for this.”

“Your coffee,” the man said, not realizing it was Peter, level ten personal of the tower, that was being yelled at.

“Thanks.”

“How dare you get coffee! In this building! Security!”

Tony arrived spotting his son instantly.

“Kid this best be impor- I see.”

“Hey Mr. Stark,” Peter said weakly.

“Mr. Harrington is it? Please stop harassing my intern.”

“H-he, he is y-your intern?”

“Yes. My favorite. Please exit the building and never question him again. You will be hearing from me.”

Let’s just say, Monday was an interesting day. At least Flash backed off, he was definitely an intern at SI, and no one embarrassed him on the trip.

[adsosfraser]

The Stone’s Toll - Chapter Ten

Read on AO3

“We can’t stay here.” 

 “No, we can’t.” Jamie pulled his wife onto his bare chest. “And wee Hamish has sent a letter, requesting his cousin’s aide. Though he was vague on which, I’m sure he wasna comfortable writing Jamie Fraser on something the English could see.” 

 “So we go to Leoch with Fergus?” 

“I willna put ye in danger, the travel there will be treacherous now wi’ the English on our throats everywhere.” 

 “Well, I’m certainly not leaving you, James Fraser. Have you forgotten I’m wanted too? We go together. And, with us gone, Lallybroch will be safer, we’ll be safer for a while. But…” 

 “What is it Sassenach?” 

 “I know you and the sea aren’t close friends, but ports shouldn’t be as monitored as they were right after Culloden. The islands will be safer, Charles even fled to the Isle of Skye to go to France. In the future, some islands are even able to retain some of their culture, their tartan. We can always go there, it would be safer while we wait… for a pardon.” 

 “A pardon?” He was shocked. 

 “Yes. When I returned I placed three letters in the post at Inverness. Copies of historical letters I assume. They may give us the freedom we want.” 

 A sharp breath escaped his lips and he slumped back on the chair. “Christ, a pardon. You know how well that went the last time.” 

 “But this time there’s no more war, we’re done with that horror.” 

 “Aye, we’ll seek Hamish, then if we canna stay, we’ll bide on one of the wee islands.”

 “What’s this about ye up and leaving Jamie Fraser! And dinna think I’m not cross wi’ ye too Claire!”

 “Jenny,” Claire took her hand, “you know it isn’t safe for us to stay here. We got lucky the last time.” 

 “And I’ll no’ have my wife sleeping in a cave.”

 “Well, ye two eejits could at least wait ‘til yer goddaughter is christened! Ye dinna ha’ to leave wi’ yer tails tucked between yer legs so soon.” 

 “Goddaughter.” Her heart warmed and she squeezed Jenny’s arm.

 “I ken yer already her aunt, but ye’d make a fine goddaughter to the lass. I suppose that would make yer daft husband her godfather. Puir lass.” She feigned pity for the tiny girl in her arms. “Would the both o’ ye wait, jes’ one more day?” 

 Claire looked back at Jamie but already knew their answer. “Of course.” 

 The ceremony was brief, the priest wasn’t prepared to perform it so soon. Caitlin gurgled up at Claire in her arms. The holy water was sprinkled over her tiny forehead in the small kirk near Lallybroch. Other than the slight cry from the chill of water, Caitlin was a perfect baby. The Frasers and Murrays all joined back together to Lallybroch to celebrate. They enjoyed a small stew of rabbit and potato, the most filling one in weeks. Father Ross had the death certificate for Fergus ready to sign, but on seeing the boy alive and healthy, he walked towards the fire in the Great Room. 

 “Wait,” Claire shouted to his back. “Don’t burn it. Jenny, will you sign that?” 

 “He’s clearly no’ deid Claire, are ye off yer heid?” 

 “No, it’s just, it’s important that the document isn’t destroyed. I can’t explain how.” 

 “Verra weel.” She plucked it out of the Father’s hands and went off to the study. She mumbled, knowing long ago not to question her sister's strange nature. 

 Claire had ripped through the fabric of her dresses and the contents of her leather bag to pull out every piece of gold, silver, and jewellery that was left during the hours waiting for Father Ross. It was little less than three years’ salary in her time, but now it would support Lallybroch for years to come. She dumped it all out on the dining and the jewels, gold, and silver scattered and clattered against the wood surface. She had put away some for her and Jamie of course, enough to be comfortable on their journey, but even with the small dent into the funds on the table, it was still an astounding sum. Jamie spied her wedding ring on a chain within the pile and raised a brow to her, but she shrugged her shoulders in reply. 

 “A christening gift.” 

 Everyone at the table stared dumbfounded at the treasure disorganised on the table. A ‘Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ’ was supplied by her son. 

 “How Claire?” Ian piped up. 

 “I didn’t steal it if that’s what you're asking.”

 “Well, how on earth did ye find so much?” Jenny yelled, exasperated. 

 “It was my inheritance from my parents and uncle. And the man whose advances I turned down…gave some of it to me.” 

 “Jesus, Mary, and Bride, ye’ve been hiding this away all this time?” 

 “No, I’ve just recently acquired it myself. But now, it can be put to good use instead of rotting in some bank. Take it, Jenny, use it to save Lallybroch from the famine, clearances, and drought to come.”

 Jenny planted a sloppy kiss onto Claire’s cheek and handed Caitlin over to Ian. She grabbed her arms and began jumping excitedly. Claire even thought she heard a squeal from the small woman. Displays of affection from the woman were rare, and Claire felt so happy and touched that she included her in it. 

 “Claire ye have no idea how this will help us.” 

 “I have some idea.” 

 Their packing was done, and the horses were all lined up for the journey. Jenny embraced Claire, and she was reminded of the parting before Culloden all over again. 

 “Ye come back to us sister,” she raised her voice to a shout so Jamie could hear, “I dinna care much if this oaf does.” 

 “I love ye too Janet.” He pulled her from Claire into a giant hug. 

 “Och, ye ken I love ye too, a bràithair. Now, try to come back to us as quick as ye can. Lallybroch will be missing her Laird.”  

 A plant along the trail made Claire pause. It was a forget me not, and though it was only the beginning of March, it was blooming brilliantly against the grass of the glen. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that they were so close to the standing stones when she found it. She knew they needed to go back together, for closure. So she jumped off her horse and scooped her hands into the dirt. 

 “Jamie I want to go to Craigh na Dun before we stop into Inverness.” 

 Jamie pulled back on the reins of his horse and stalled in the middle of the path before Claire. He looked down at his wife and the flowers in her hands.

 “If you don’t want to that’s fine, I just wanted to plant these there, and we might never get another chance to do so.” 

 “Aye, we’ll go.”

 He dismounted his horse in one swift move. Carefully, Jamie helped Claire back up to her horse without crushing the delicate flowers in the process. Jamie passed the reins of his own horse to his son and climbed up behind his wife on her mare. 

 “Fergus, be a good lad and find a place to shelter in Inverness. Something not too in the open, or conspicuous either.” Jamie pulled out the bag of coins and tossed it to him. 

 “Oui, milord. I shall not fail you.” 

 Milord and papa, milady and maman, had become as interchangeable to Fergus as Jamie’s Sassenach, mo gràidh, mo nighean donn, and the countless other affectionate names he could come up with for his wife. 

 “Now off wi’ ye son, we’ll be shortly after.” 

 They held tight to each other, not able to bear even a second of lost connection. Fog clung to the air surrounding the tall monoliths and blocked the vision to the moor below. 

 “I wish I could punch it. But it won’t even let me do that.” 

 “How about this one to the side. Not too much danger of falling in fer yer wee hand.”

 She pulled slightly apart from him for the first time since they created the hi together. Her arm trembled as she reached out to lightly touch the stone closest to the centre one. Though it had become an unwitting victim of its brother’s actions, it would have to do. Lining up her arm, she delivered the first blow that jolted from the cold surface to the bones of her arm and shoulders 

 “Fuck you!” She screamed a gut-wrenching cry as she slammed her fist into the rock. “Fuck you! Fuck!”

 Her breath hitched and Jamie gathered her once again in his arms. He kissed her skinned knuckles. Giving her a few minutes to calm her racing heart and heaving lungs, Jamie cradled her tight to his chest, one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back. How many more tears would she cry, for something that was only the size of a blueberry? She knew she’d never lose the feeling of grief, but it would become more manageable most days. With her husband there to bear it with her, she knew it would be a certainty. 

 “I’m ready.” She patted his chest. “Are you?” 

 “Aye.” 

 “Do you want to punch it too?” 

 “No, that bastard stone’s taken too much from us. I won’t give it the satisfaction of flesh and blood from my hands as weel.” 

 She wanted to reach out and cradle the voice she had once heard to her chest, protect her against the violence of the stones. But it seemed it was her daughter instead who protected her. Digging the small hole into the ground by the outer stones, she smiled tearfully. Jamie’s strong hands were right beside hers, guiding the dirt away. Together they scooped the small plant into their hands, a mismatch of Jamie’s on top of Claire’s and then Claire’s on top of Jamie’s. They patted the dirt mound and encased the stems in the nutrients. With the task finished, Claire fell into Jamie’s lap and began to weep. She stroked his shirt with dirtied hands and left stains on the white linen. He rubbed the fabric on her back and Claire felt the moisture fall onto her hair and slowly down to her scalp. She offered him her sgian dubh and he etched into the centre stone with sharp angles, leaving the blade there as a gift.  Baby Fraser.  Claire’s hand trembled in his grip and she was almost consoled by the fact that she could feel his shaking too; he didn’t hide how it affected him as well. “I trust yer grandsire and grandmam are keeping ye out o’ trouble  a leannan . I love you. Tell Faith I love her too, and I ken she protects ye up there, but jes’ because she’s older doesna mean ye canna protect her as weel. Jes’ like I do fer yer auntie. Ye mind what yer family says, and we’ll meet again soon enough.” 

 Claire knelt down and gently cradled the small flower in her hand. “I love you, my baby girl. We love you so much.” 

 Jamie ripped off a strip from his sark and wrapped it around her bloodied knuckles with a kiss. They stayed to talk to the stone for a while. Jamie laughed with Claire after sharing an incident from his boyhood about a goat, some string, a bucket of shite, and his sister. Claire pulled out the photos from within her pockets and shared her child-self to their daughters, and the interesting marvels of the future. Jamie was proud he recognised the ‘airyplane’ from when Claire brought out the black and white pictures in the cave. He was bewildered of course at first, cursing the strange magic, but once he saw the brilliant smile of his Sassenach he knew the depiction couldn’t hold any evil. He especially liked seeing her as a bairn, with pigtails and a pink frilly dress and how the photos showed the change from cute baby to mature woman. She set one into the plastic wrap, a photo of her, her parents, and her uncle and buried it beneath the earth. 

 “Your family is with you always, my darling girl.” 

 With one last glance, they rode back to Inverness holding each other on the saddle. 

 Their short stay in Inverness was that: short. After the first night of full bellies and a warm fire, the innkeeper alerted the travellers to the presence of redcoats fifteen miles away. It gave them time to prepare themselves, instead of another hasty retreat to Leoch. 

 It was not nearly as strong of a fortress as it had once been. 

 Claire was put to use straight away, mending flesh and bone. Jamie was spirited away as well to advise his cousin in the Laird’s Tower. The only bright spot was the wonderful Mrs. Fitz. Fergus spent much of his time messing around the surgery and playing with the medicines, much to Claire’s annoyance. No matter how many times he insisted it would not happen again, his nimble little fingers were constantly filching items off of shelves and tables. So she sent him off to the kitchens.

 The ledgers had become impossible, and Leoch was close to ruin from partially funding the Jacobite cause. They felt the sharp absence of those who had fought bravely alongside them. None were left. Most of the men residing in the lands were either too old, too young, or too crippled to fight. There was talk of taking up a deal with the British, to leave Leoch and settle somewhere comfortable in America. Hamish was inclined to that option more and more each day. The Lairdship was not an easy thing for a twelve-year-old, let alone under such stress of a post-war climate. So, it was decided that the MacKenzies would sell Leoch to the British for land somewhere deep in Virginia. As much as it pained them to leave their culture and homeland in the hands of those bastards, they had no other choice. The lands produced nothing, the woodlands sparse, and their supplies pilfered by roaming soldiers. Claire felt guilty for the small amount of gold tucked into her dresses, but she told herself the amount she was left with couldn’t save them all. They stayed in constant communication with Jenny through letters and informed her of their impending move. Jenny wrote back to her cousins,  Alexander and Elizabeth Malcolm , just as often, if not more eager to know they were safe. 

 In the blistering heat of the summer, Claire, Jamie, and Fergus travelled in the safety of the band of MacKenzies. Virtually no redcoats bothered them on their way, patriot to king and country as the Laird most certainly was in their eyes. 

 At Ullapool, they said their last goodbyes as they split to different destinations. Jamie couldn’t possibly survive a month-long journey across the water. They purchased passage on the  Serendipity  and waited. 

 Jamie wretched off the side of the gangway as the ship made port. Stornoway, and from there they would hopefully find somewhere to settle down. A croft, north of Stornoway soon came to their attention. Most of their money went to purchase the land outright, they weren't too keen to rent one out as other crofters did, knowing the clearances would hit Scotland hard. So, Alexander Malcolm, his wife, and his son, began to build a home out of the small abandoned cottage. They hoped it would be temporary but would be fine if it wasn’t, for they had all they needed already: each other.

[suburbanbeatnik]

The short and very miserable life of Napoleon II, aka the Eaglet, aka Franz, Duke of Reichstadt: PART ONE

Napoleon’s son with Marie Louise, his second wife, the daughter of the Holy Roman Emperor Habsburg Emperor Francis II, is known by a variety of names: Napoleon II, the Eaglet, l’Aiglon, King of Rome, or Franz, Duke of Reichstadt. It seems to me this kid barely gets mentioned as a footnote in most popular biographies of Napoleon. Of course Napoleon loved kids, and was over the moon that he finally had his own legitimate child, his own son and heir. He doted on this adorable and spirited blond moppet, being super affectionate with him, playing with him, spending lots of time with him, bringing him into his study to cuddle with him as he read dispatches, or tossing him up into the air when the toddler pulled on his coat-tails.

It’s very sweet and heart-warming to read all these adorable father-son moments, but honestly it’s depressing as hell to realize the best years of the Eaglet’s life was up to the age of four.

When he parted from his father after his defeat in Russia, it was all horribly and sickeningly downhill from there.

So I was reading Octave Aubry’s biography The King of Rome: Napoleon II. It’s not a new bio by any means— it’s from 1932. But it is thoroughly researched and very well written, with lots of cites from various Viennese archives, and Jesus Christ, it is depressing. The Eaglet was physically and emotionally abused by the Habsburg side of his family and by their minions for most of his very short life, and it makes for a harrowing read.  

What did his mother do to stop it, you may ask? Unfortunately, the answer is absolutely nothing.

TW: CHILD ABUSE

So, the best that could be said about his mother, Marie Louise, was that she was a weak character. If I wanted to be more blunt, I’d say she was spineless enough to the point I wonder if she was even a vertebrate.  

She was, of course, raised to hate Napoleon as a child. But then she met him and fell in love with him. She was very eager to be loved and do everything he asked her to do, even if (as Andrew Roberts points out in his own mammoth biography of Napoleon) she wasn’t the brightest bulb. But perhaps she was a perfectly cromulent empress when war wasn’t on her doorstep and she wasn’t asked to make decisions: but once the war WAS on her doorstep and decision-making was called of her, she fell apart like wet tissue. As Aubry explains:

That it would be a capital mistake for Marie Louise and her son to leave Paris was painfully evident to everyone, even to the Empress herself. But no initiative could have been expected of her. Willing, always of the best intentions, she was a passive creature both by temperament and education. She could never be more than an instrument in the hands of others. But Hortense, who had a resolute spirit behind that bleat of hers, showed both intelligence and heart in the circumstances. She was waiting for Marie Louise when the council was over, and said to her:

‘Sister dear, you must realize that in leaving Paris you will be neutralizing the defense and so lose your crown. I observe that you are making the sacrifice with great resignation.’

The Empress replied gently, almost humbly:

‘You are right. It is not my fault— the Council has decided that way.’

She was hoping vaguely for a letter from the Emperor, a counter-order that would permit her to remain. [Aubry pg 54]

At this point Louise, after fleeing Paris, wanted to be reunited with Napoleon, but she just cried and wrung her hands, as her lady-in-waiting Mme Lannes, in cahoots with Talleyrand, poured poison into her ear about how Napoleon never loved her. Then Talleyrand conspired to have all of Louise’s stuff stolen. The soon-to-be-ex-empress continued to cry and do nothing, only to go “to her room to collapse on her knees at her bedside.”

Anyway, her father swooped in and picked her up, and Metternich arranged to have Neipperg, a dashing, managing middle-aged man in uniform (Louise definitely had a type), seduce her. Within the space of weeks, she immediately changed her tune with regards to her husband, and wanted to have nothing more to do with him. As for the Eaglet, though he ended up in Vienna, he was in the care of his beloved governess, Mme de Montesquiou, aka “Maman ‘Quiou.” He was in good hands while Maman ‘Quiou was allowed to stay with him, but she was deathly afraid of being sent away, since she knew Louise was indifferent to her child and would never do the right thing, now that she was the puppet of her father and of Metternich.

With her son whom she had not seen for three months and who was enraptured at her return, she [Marie Louise] concerned herself less and less. In spite of the caresses and the gifts that were showered upon her, Mme. de Montesquiou saw things clearly and passed her judgment. Writing to her husband who was urging her to leave Vienna she said:

“My dear, do not call it my duty to return to France. As I have already advised you, you would be putting me in the greatest embarrassment, and my conscience would trouble me all my life long… If that child has a mother, very well, I could place him in her hands and be satisfied. But she is nothing less than that: she is more indifferent to his fate than the veriest stranger in his service.”

And to an intimate she confided in disgust at what she suspected and intuited:

“I have seen painful things, and I keep seeing them every day.”  [Aubry pg 81]

Unfortunately, in 1815, Maman ‘Quiou was sent away. The Eaglet wept for two days straight, and was put into the care of a certain Countess Mitrovsky, “a creature of the Empress Maria-Ludovica and an intimate of Neipperg.” The loyal Meneval, who was also to be sent away, said good-bye to the little boy, and the change in the child’s demeanor was striking.

He was struck by the child’s earnest and melancholy air. He did not run to meet Meneval with his usual lively gestures and gay exclamations. He watched him, as he entered, with the utmost indifference. Countess Mitrovsky was with him. Every few seconds he would look at her as though in fear of a reprimand. After a few conventional phrases, Meneval took his hand and asked him if he had anything to say to his papa, for he was going soon to see him. The child looked at him sadly and went away, still silent, towards the embrasure of a distant window. Meneval bade good-bye to the Countess and Mme. Soufflot [one of the few remaining French waiting women], then, as he was leaving, stepped over to the little boy who stood watching him from the window. He bent low to bid him good-bye. And at that moment, he felt a tug at his coat and heard a trembling little voice say:

“Monsieur Meva, you will tell him that I still love him dearly.”

He was only four years old and for fourteen months he had not seen his father…

When he reached the antechamber, Meneval burst into tears. [Aubry, pgs 89-90]

Not long after this, the young King was delivered into the care of a tutor named Count Dietrichstein. The Eaglet, who was “dragged” by Countess Mitrovsky to meet Dietrichstein, refused to have anything to do with him, and Dietrichstein, while weeping, dramatically claimed to a friend “he cannot love me” as long as the last French women, even the aged nurse, were in Franz’s service. So Mme Soufflot, her daughter Fanny, and the others were banished, leaving Franz completely alone.

No more warmth about him, no more deep interest, no more deep interest, no soft hands to stroke his curls, no arms to clasp him too tight when he returned weary from a drive, no knees to spread him to let him rest, no more smiling reproofs for his shortcomings, no more love in short— real love, that is disinterested, unselfish love, love for himself and love for what he was. His mother was soon to leave him, to ascend to her throne in Parma. HIs grandfather Franz treated him kindly; but he had always sacrificed him for the interests of State and would sacrifice him again, if the Chancellor [Metternich] so ordered. As for his uncles, aunts, and cousins of Austria, however well they might treat him, however generous they might be, as certain of them were, they could not— and this was natural— help seeing in him, first of all, the son of Napoleon.

He was born with an affectionate disposition. He had loved his father infinitely. With his mother he had been tender and gentle. He had adored Mme de Montesquiou and Fanny Soufflot. Now he was compelled to close his heart. Brought up by men, raised only by men, but still too much of a child to become a man, he turned inward, escaped into the little universe he had made for himself with his memories of former days. For as young as he was, he had no hope, and he did not know there was a future. He was going to grow up that way, not unhappy if one only looks at the material content of life, but if one thinks of the needs of the heart, certainly not happy. [Aubry pgs 97-98]

Count Dietrichstein decided that he was going to stamp all the Frenchness out of the Eaglet’s mind, for he must become 100% a Habsburg. Nothing but German would be spoken to him, and when he clung to speaking French, crying that he didn’t want to be a German, that he wished to be a Frenchman, he was chastised, deprived of play and outings, and then, with the Emperor Franz’s approval, actually whipped. Yes— he was whipped. When he was only five years old, because he wouldn’t speak German.

But when even that wouldn’t work, Marie Louise sat him on her knee and told him solemnly that he must speak German to please his grandfather, which finally did the trick. Not long after this, she went to the little court in Parma. She requested for her son  to go with her, but when Metternich refused, she acquiesced meekly.

Once so light-hearted and gay, the child became timid and mistrustful, and after the departure of his friends, the French women, and would lie to protect himself. In such cases he would be punished, not harshly, but not gently either. He shrank more and more into himself, accordingly, and since the world had grown hostile, he now began to offer it only a surface of indifference. [Aubry, pg 100]

He began to act out, destroying his copy books and mutilating his toys, but would also become sensitive to injustice or cruelty, like a dog being whipped or a bird eating a worm. He was told he would no longer be called Napoleon: he was to be called Franz. When he objected, he was “promptly silenced.” He became used to the name, and from here on out he was usually called Franz.

Franz still fought with Dietrichstein, who commented on his “laziness” and “ill will,” and his many quarrels with the prince, although he was happy to note in his letters to Marie Louise that it ended with “my victories.” Metternich had the boy closely followed, reports sent regularly and classified into a “ponderous file.” Meanwhile, his mother, off in Parma, when she wasn’t writing letters to her son exhorting him to pious obedience, made the feeblest attempt to defend the interests of the newly christened Franz— Franz was cut off from the succession of Parma after Metternich decided that this was in the best interests of the monarchy in Italy, Marie Louise was “readily brought into line by Neipperg, who owned her now body and soul.”

…She expressed herself as satisfied in a private letter of October, 1817:

“My son’s future has been determined. You know  that I was never ambitious for thrones or States for him, but hoped he would be the richest and most charming gentleman in Austria.”  [Aubry pg 110]

Meanwhile, Napoleon was kept on the island of St Helena, waiting for news from his son, but he heard not a word from his wife or a line from his son for six years. When he died, he was looking at Franz’s portrait, and left him many legacies, such as his books, engravings, papers, coffee service and the family house in Ajaccio, but Franz saw none of it. His mother, who was pregnant at the time with Neipperg’s son, didn’t even tell her son of his father’s death. She refused to accept Napoleon’s heart, which his will bequeathed her, because, as Aubry says, “she was more interested in the inheritance: she filed objection to the transfer of the six millions on deposit with Laffitte out of which the bequests of the Emperor were to be paid. She would not permit Marchand [Napoleon’s valet] to deliver to her at Parma Napoleon’s laces and the bracelet made of his hair.” Napoleon even begged her to take his last physician, Dr Antommarchi, into her service: she refused to even meet with him, palming the doctor off on Neipperg, who glad-handed Antommachi and pushed him out the door when he started asking too many questions about Franz.

Louise did moan about Napoleon’s suffering on St Helena while she was giving birth to Neipperg’s child, but she promptly forgot it. “She was a weak and frivolous soul. She would have grieved longer over her pet parrot, Marguerite. She even expressed astonishment that Madame Mere should have asked the British government for Napoleon’s body.” [Aubry pg 120]

One of the junior tutors named Foresti was given the task to tell the ten year old Franz that his father was dead.

The child began to weep and he wept a long time, doubtless calling up in his memory the pale face which had softened to such tenderness whenever it drew near his own. He sat down near the window, his cheeks, and his hands that covered them, wet with tears. Foresti himself was deeply moved and tried to comfort him. But the child did not hear him. [Aubry pg 122]

As Prokesch, his best friend of his short adult life, put it later:

“The prince wept for a whole day, almost without stopping. Then, suddenly, he mastered his emotions, dried his eyes, rose and paced the floor up and down. Not a word came from his lips. And several weeks passed before he alluded  to his father’s death. He felt he must keep his grief to himself.”

Meanwhile, Franz was now thinking in German, but he still rebelled against his teachers, who, for years, beat him with the ferule (a type of paddle that resembled a long and large wooden spoon, the circular head often pierced with holes, and sometimes as large as a child’s head)— his grandfather the Emperor authorized “great severity” against him when he was being “stubborn”— but this stopped when it was clear beatings no longer had any affect. Except for brief months of pleasure during summer vacations at the castle of Persenbeug where Marie Louise deigned to leave Parma, Franz, who was completely without friends, was kept in solitude. He responded by withdrawing into himself and going into a fantasy world.  

He dreamed, and gained freedom by dreaming. As a small boy he loved to play: now that he was growing up, it was still what he liked to do best. Never did child love to dream more than he: that escape from time, from responsibilities, from disappointments, that journey without end, where ideas, colors and forms mingled according to one’s fantasy! As soon as he could flee the watchful care of Foresti or of Collin, instead of working at his translations, his themes, or his arithmetic exercises, he would open the huge gilt-edged volumes given to him on his birthdays by his grandfather or the Archdukes and leaning his head on his hand, began to dream with his eyes upon the awkward, rather ridiculous illustrations of those days, in which one could see beplumed generals prancing besides their armies with spent cannonballs lying at their horses’ feet, while down in one corner an aide-de-camp would be reading an order and in the other an almoner kneeling besides a stretcher to confess a dying soldier.

Sometimes, bending low over an atlas, he would travel in spirit far out over the blue seas to the continents bordered in loud colors. One day, Matthias Collin came into the room and found him, with his cheek resting on a map. The little prince did not get up at his approach. His teacher thought he was asleep. But on going towards him, he saw the child’s eyes were wide open. The boy gave a start of surprise and blushed. He had been dreaming. Collin was more indulgent than Foresti. He did not punish him. [Aubry pg 132]

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More to come in part two!