#Lady Beatrice Sharpe

[lazy-cat-corner]

I think Lucille subconsciously saw her mother in Edith. Was it parts she loved or hated, I’m not sure but it seems seeing Edith wearing her mother’s ring and (seemingly) taking her place as Thomas’s (maternal?) source of physical and emotional comfort is what caused her so much rage and hostility against Edith.

She’s unable to differentiate the variations of love and the capacity people can feel for more than one person. So even if it’s not true that Edith was a maternal figure to Thomas, it doesn’t matter. Because in Lucille’s world the only kind of love she knows was the love she has for Thomas and the twisted love her parents neglected to give them. So if Edith doesn’t fit in one box, she must fit in another.

Which is why I wonder if putting Edith in her mother’s wheelchair and caring for her in the same sick bed was all intentional. She even specifically used the same weapon she used to kill her mother to kill Edith with! Like a part of her mother is still haunting her. She worries if she lets things continue her life will return back in the attic alone and under her mother’s control.

Maybe Lucille didn’t fight for revenge or pain. Maybe a subconscious part of her was fighting for her freedom.

#crimson peak #lucille sharpe #edith cushing #lady beatrice sharpe

[unicyclehippo]

Hmmm...how about a one word prompt of...Skin?

for @possibilistfanfiction i hope it makes u laugh

//

two

//

every week, superion talks to beatrice late tuesday night. at the end of every call, she asks to speak to you and you let her.

are you struggling with anything? she’ll ask, or what has your week been like? or, how are you, ava? she doesn’t ask that one often because it makes you hang up on her fast. like. what the fuck are you supposed to do? she says your name nicely, makes it sound like she wants to know about you, not the halo, and yeah. it’s a bit much to deal with.

‘we went to the thrift shop,’ you tell her week two, ‘and spent half the money you sent us on clothes. beatrice got new pyjamas.’ from the kitchen, beatrice sends you a betrayed look. you wave at her. you’re not going to tell superion that you picked out boxers for her—black, comfortable—and that you think you’re going to have a heart attack every night because beatrice has surprisingly buff legs, toned, and the first time she came out of the bathroom in boxers you had to put your hands under your head, pin them down with your heavy fucking skull so you didn’t touch her legs, her knees. how knees could be sweet, you have no fucking clue, but beatrice’s knees are sweet, soft in repose and then sharp and strong when she moves and. yeah. anyway.

‘i’ve never bought clothes before,’ you tell superion, and beatrice looks startled and a little sad and you laugh because it’s funny, actually, not sad. ‘i stole the hottest dress from this rich lady’s house—um, borrowed, i mean. they don’t really have high fashion here but i picked up some cute stuff. right, bea?’ beatrice ducks her head. ‘she says yes and also wants to know if spending this money means i’m your sugar baby now. or the pope’s. ow! okay, she didn’t say that but she did throw a pen at me. i’m your halobearer, that’s so rude!’

‘phase through it next time,’ beatrice suggests, and almost smiles when you flip her off.

//

‘hello, ava. is there anything you wish to talk about tonight?’

you have been thinking of things to say all week that’ll make superion hang up on you and so, when you pluck the phone out of beatrice’s hand, you’re grinning. she picks up on your energy and excuses herself to the bathroom.

‘so much. where to start? bea has been kicking my ass in training. i think she’s enjoying it. is that allowed? i thought nuns were supposed to not enjoy things.’

‘i’m sure any and all enjoyment pertains to the pleasure all instructors feel when their student shows improvement.’

‘no,’ you muse. beatrice is for sure eavesdropping so you raise your voice a little and say, ‘i think she’s a sadist.’

the bathroom door slides open half an inch, just enough for beatrice to shoot a forbidding look out at you. it’s undermined by the way some of her hair hangs free of her bun and the toothpaste smeared at the corner of her mouth and she’s brushing neatly and you want so badly to squash up next to her and clean your teeth there with her, in your stupidly small bathroom, so you forget all your nun jokes you’ve prepared and say,

‘all good here, supes. catch you next week,’ and hang up on her.

beatrice is in boxers that show off her knees. her sleep shirt is tucked into the waistband of her boxers, which is so endearing you think you might explode. you press your fingers to her hip and nudge her away from the sink so you can get in there and wet your brush. you do the same thing every night. she ought to know by now. she does know by now. you think she wants you to touch her, to lay your hand gently on her hip and make her space into your space. the toothpaste is minty and froths up as you brush enthusiastically. beatrice swishes her mouthwash. puts her hand on your wrist. you obediently shuffle away from the sink so she can spit neatly into it. 

‘short conversation with mother superion tonight.’

you shrug. ‘tired, i guess.’ it’s half true. you would have happily made a nuisance of yourself but tonight, you just want to brush your teeth next to beatrice and go to bed.

‘am i pushing you too hard?’

you consider the question. tuck your hair behind your ears so it doesn’t get in the way when you bend, spit into the sink too, like beatrice did. rinse. wash your brush, strick it into the polka dot toothbrush holder on the counter.

‘i want to learn. i’ll do whatever i have to do.’ beatrice eyes you like you’ve said something really interesting, which is worrisome because you don’t know what about that was interesting. ‘bedtime. wanna be little spoon tonight?’

beatrice goes pink at the offer and you can’t resist lifting a hand to her cheek, to touch it. she doesn’t pull away, but her eyes go wide.

‘sorry.’

‘no, sorry,’ you say almost immediately. ‘um. i’ll check the front door is locked.’ you run out of the bathroom, through to the kitchen and the front door. thunk your head hard against the wood and swear under your breath. blindly reach for the door handle. turn it gently. it hits the lock and you release it. you stand there for a few long minutes, hearing the sounds of the bedsheets and beatrice shuffling and the click of the lamp turning off and then the apartment is dark and still and there’s a longing right on the centre of your tongue, dry and empty like a wafer sucking the moisture from your mouth, and you want to pick up the phone and tell superion, i want to live. i don’t want beatrice to teach me how to fight, i don’t want you to know my name, i want this to be real. a home in the mountains and a girl who wants me to touch her. 

beatrice pretends to be asleep when you finally join her, crawling into bed and pulling the sheets up to your shoulders. you’re always careful about touching her, when and where you do it, and tonight is no exception.

‘bea?’ you whisper.

‘yes, ava?’

‘can i –‘ you reach over. hover your hand over her forearm.

beatrice shuffles in the bed. the lamps in the street outside are dim and they have covers that keep the light shining down to the street instead of filling the sky. it’s not enough to see beatrice by. you light the halo—the tiniest bit—and her expression goes awed and nervous all at once.

‘you shouldn’t.’

touch her? use the halo?

‘i want to. feels good.’ beatrice breaths out. she won’t say it, and won’t ask you, but when you move your hand to hover over her wrist, sidle close enough to hold her, she doesn’t stop you. ‘g’dnight, bea.’

‘goodnight, ava. sleep well.’

//

‘good evening, ava. i trust you are well?’

‘we got jobs!’

‘beatrice informed me.’

‘of course she did,’ you roll your eyes. catch sight of the brim of the pink cowboy hat still squashed onto your head you had been given tonight as a prize, the only thing you had wanted. it's a little small, maybe made for a kid, but whatever. ‘did she tell you it’s at a bar? she doesn’t drink but she’s killing it at the books. i don’t have the same hang ups – hans is teaching me everything about being a great bartender and it involves a lot of alcohol. i can – he’s german and i drunk him under the table. i think the halo helped. do you – can the halo heal being drunk, do you think? did i cheat? maybe i should give him this hat back.’

‘i will ask you not to test the limits of the halo in this manner.’

‘i know, i know, control the halo, don’t draw attention, blah blah blah—bea already gave me the speech. i’m being safe. it was just some fun, mother,’ you tease, feeling loose and good and happy. ‘the hat suits me, though. it’s pink.’

superion’s smile bleeds into her voice. you grin, imagining it. a smile on that stern face. that’s the best, that’s one of the things you love the most, making people smile, making people laugh, especially when you have to find the right way to come at it. this feels almost too easy? you’re just…telling her about your day and your job and the hat you won but you know that she’s smiling and you’re a little drunk so you decide not to think about whether she likes you or is showing some softer side of herself for your benefit and just enjoy it. 

‘you are entitled to some fun, ava.’

‘tell bea that. and her too. she can have fun too. she doesn’t have to drink, just relax a tiny bit. right?’

‘sister beatrice will attend her duty as she sees fit, you know that. and,’ she adds dryly, ‘i believe she is more likely to listen to you when it comes to relaxation.’

‘what you’re saying is i need to convince her. i need to tempt her.’

superion sighs. ‘drink some water, please, ava. look after yourself. and beatrice.’

‘yeah, always.’

//

there’s a girl who comes to your bar to flirt with you specifically. you know that because she told you, because she pressed her teeth to the pink of her lip and pressed against the hardwood bar, leaning over it to give you a good—really good—view of her chest and for a second you’d forgotten that there was anyone else in the bar when she looked at you so intently. and she told you.

‘you know i’ve been flirting with you, right?’

‘you? no way, this is a huge surprise,’ you’d teased, because she’s been super unsubtle.

the other night, she’d let the condensation from her beer bottle drip onto her chest and asked so sweetly for a napkin and laughed when you went tongue-tied and clumsy, dropping the cocktail shaker. which was fine because it was empty but it had clanged on the stone floor and hans had looked over with this stupidly knowing grin and only laughed when you flipped him off. 

‘sometimes girls don’t know,’ she’d shrugged. ‘and i don’t like to waste my time. you like girls?’

you spin the beer bottle in your hand, because it’s a fun trick and because it makes girls look at your hands. dani is no exception. you haven’t said it out loud before but you want to. should you wait for a special moment? or does the moment become special when you say it?

‘girls are incredible,’ is what you end up saying. it’s not that you’re scared, it’s just that beatrice isn’t here and some part of you kind of expected to say it to her first, the way she’d shared that with you. 

dani doesn’t take it as a cop out, thank god. she grins, big and bold, and tosses her hair back over her shoulder. ‘yeah. incredible. let me take you out, ava—dinner, dancing, drinks. what do you say?’

you should say no. for multiple reasons, but chief among them the fact that when dani used her water on her tits trick, you’d thought about beatrice and what her reaction would be if you tried it on her. probably, it’s a dick move to think about another girl when one is being so kind as to show you her tits. but. beatrice is a nun and dani is not. super not. she’s portuguese and taller than you—most people are, to be fair—and you like that the bar is lifted over where the customers sit so she has to look up at you, but you also like looking up at her and the way she crowds you a little, smirks down at you when you sit a little sluttily on the barstool next to her, hand on her knee. she wears, like, a dozen silver rings and her earrings dangle and glitter when she shakes her head, which she does when you make her laugh really hard, and when you think about kissing her it’s, yeah. good. it makes you a little tongue-tied and you stumble over your words and dani looks at you like she knows what you were thinking about which is. yeah. good. 

you say yes.

//

'—compromising our mission here, compromising the halo, compromising herself—'

'whoa! where does the halo come into this? i'm not whipping my top off for her, it's a date.'

beatrice glares at you. she's standing tall and straight—well, rigid—and with the dark clouds gathering outside the window you're a little worried god will mistake her for a lightning rod, but mostly you're worried that you've actually hurt her by agreeing to go on this date. but then she goes and says,

'this is a stupid risk, you can't just - just--'

and you hate being called stupid so instead of trying to calm her down, you rise up to meet her. 'just what? say yes when a girl asks me out?'

'yes!'

'why not?' beatrice glares over your head, unable to meet your eyes. 'give me the phone.'

'what? no!'

'yes, give me the phone.'

'i'm still debriefing mother s—'

'give me the phone or i'll debrief on my date,' you tell her, and you can feel the anger and spite spitting on your tongue and sparking in your eyes. now she does meet your eyes; hers are black with fury, her jaw tense, and you're doubly pissed because you'd said yes to the date because dani is hot and has this quick flirty humour and because she looked at you like she could eat you up and it's a hell of a feeling to be on the receiving end of a look like that, but beatrice... beatrice is pissed and you're nearly positive it isn't because of the mission, and god, whatever your rules are about thinking nuns are hot, she looks hot with her jaw clenched and the muscles of her neck and shoulders tense like she's thinking about keeping you from the door by whatever means necessary. but she is a nun and you're not an asshole, or entirely selfish, so you said yes to dani because if you can't kiss the girl you like, you should be able to kiss a girl you like. right? 

beatrice flicks a look over your outfit—high-waisted jeans, a shirt that shrunk in the one laundry load you did so now it shows off a decent strip of belly, and a blue sweater tied around your waist that you'd found over the back of the couch, in case it ends up raining—and she scowls.

'fine. fine.'

she grabs your wrist. your skin sears where she touches you—god, is this allowed? is this allowed? i'm gonna be thinking about this tonight in my alone time, is this allowed, dude?—and you open your hand, you'll take whatever she'll give you. you're so startled by her hand on you that you forget to be angry. if she weren't a nun, if she were a little more open, if she liked you the way you like her... 

she drops the phone into your hand. it’s heavy and you nearly drop it, focused on—god forgive you, or better yet, mind your own fucking business dude—her. ask me out. ask me on a date. look at me like you want to push me against the brick wall outside where we work together and kiss me. she must see some of that in your eyes because she drags in a shaky breath and all the anger leaves her. she doesn’t move away. you look at her lips. 

‘ava…’

your thumb flickers to mute the phone. ‘tell me not to go.’

beatrice huffs. ‘you want to.’

‘i’ll stay. i won’t go. if you ask.’

her hand goes to your hip. you want to know how much of her hand can fit there, on your skin where your top rides up. but she doesn’t touch you, even though you’re aching for it, even though she can see that you’re aching for it. it’s like there’s an invisible barrier that blocks her from moving those last few centimetres. 

‘i’m taking a shift tonight,’ she says. ‘hans is sick.’

‘oh.’

‘i won’t be home. after. i’ll be back tomorrow,’ she says hurriedly, before your heart can totally break. ‘but not tonight.’

‘i’m not bringing her home. you know that, right?’

‘it would be fine if you did,’ beatrice lies, and pushes past you into the kitchen to collect her things. 

you let her go. lift the phone to your ear. 

‘hey. what’s the company policy on halobearers going out with girls? also, like, your personal policy. not that it fucking matters, i’m gonna do it anyway, but i suppose i’m curious. lesbians…thoughts?’

beatrice slams the front door behind her. 

superion doesn't talk straight away—ha. you hear a chair dragging on stone and then a creak as she sits. 

'well,' she says, and you forget about beatrice as much as you can because superion doesn't sound angry or disgusted. only considering. and this question isn’t totally about beatrice, it’s about you too, and you don’t care what superion thinks of you, you don’t. but. 'there is nothing written to specifically bar halobearers from dating girls.' nuns, on the other hand, she doesn't say but you hear it loud and clear. 'as for my personal policies... they revolve around, and are cemented in, caring for and protecting my order and my girls.’

‘what kind of protection?’

‘physical and emotional strength is paramount, as you know. if you are being safe, and if it is something that will make you happy, then i have no reason to forbid it.’

you think on that for a minute. then, in a small voice you don’t recognise, you ask her, ‘are you excited for me? can you be excited for me?’ tears sting your eyes and the back of your throat prickles with heat like you’ve drunk hot sauce again, or whiskey, and before superion can say anything, you break in again with, ‘i’m going to be late,’ kind of brusquely. ‘bye.’

//

after dinner and dancing and drinks, all the things she had promised, dani offers to walk you home. 

you lean back against a lamppost and wind your fingers into the lapels of her lilac blazer and tug her forward, kiss her eagerly. the streetlight is almost the same warm gold as the halo, which is snug and silent between your shoulders. dani tastes like coffee, from her espresso martini. she kisses you, bold and unafraid. you’ve thought a couple times tonight about going home with her and you think about it again now, about letting her walk you home, about holding her hand as you let her into the apartment and pushing the same hand down the front of your jeans, into the underwear you bought new for precisely this reason, to where you’re slick between your legs and wanting but–

‘this was fun,’ you tell her, panting just a little. 

she groans. kisses your jaw, your neck. fuck. ‘why does it sound like you’re saying goodnight?’

‘i - well - you’re making it fucking hard -’ you say, and laugh, and your stomach twists a little because if you had said that to bea she would press her lips together and shake her head and the way her laugh escapes as a huff makes you feel like you could walk over oceans, shoot up into the fucking sky. you make that joke in front of dani and she laughs, sure, but then half a second later her teeth are on your skin over your pulse and neither of you are thinking about the joke. which is fair. but while you want dani to touch you, she doesn’t make you feel like you can take on the world. she kiss you again. puts her hands on your waist, thumbs sliding up to brush over your belly. hands sliding up until her thumbs are dipping beneath your shirt, fingers wrapping around your hips, and you feel fucking incredible, delicate and wanted and hot. but. 

‘dani, fuck -’

‘yeah, i know, saying goodnight.’ she sounds pretty wrecked too, which is a huge boost to your self-esteem because all you’re doing is clinging to her but apparently that’s fine. ‘you’re sure i can’t walk you to your door?’

‘if you walked me back, i’d take you upstairs,’ you tell her, and put a hand to her chest, push her gently away. ‘which - i had a lot of fun, but i can’t.’

dani nods. ‘text me when you get home though.’

‘of course, yeah.’

she takes a step back. out of the halo of the streetlight. you rake your eyes over her—she turned up in matching lilac blazer and slacks with this tiny white crop under the blazer and perfectly white sneakers, a few silver necklaces—and it reminds you a little of seeing doctor salvius for the first time, honestly, in her full pantsuit moment, and maybe you have a thing for women who look like they know what the fuck they want and how to get it. 

‘fuck.’

‘baby, i’m trying.’

you flip her off and push away from the lamppost. ‘thanks for tonight. i had a really good time.’

she smiles and watches you leave. you look back when you reach the end of the road and she’s still there, waves. 

by the time you get into the apartment, you’re considerably more drunk than you’d felt when you left the bar. you get the door unlocked, kick it closed behind you, and text dani as you struggle out of your jeans, kicking them vaguely in the direction of the wardrobe.

made it home thx for tonight

she doesn’t answer immediately. which is fair, she was drunk too and maybe she went back into the bar or whatever and you don’t really care but beatrice isn’t home and the apartment is quiet and cold and you’re standing pantless in the middle of the room and there’s a sinking feeling in your gut when you realise that you’re sad. it’s not fair. it’s not fair. 

the phone is hidden away under a loose floorboard, because of course it is. you hear the wood snap as you peel it up. you’re alive and super strong and drunk and it's fine, the phone shouldn't be hidden away anyway, you shouldn't be hidden away. you pull it out, call the only number programmed into this stupid, bulky phone. 

‘beatrice?’ 

‘no, it’s me.’

‘ah, ava. hello.’ 

you climb to your knees, push onto your feet. she sounds fine that you’ve called, totally unbothered. ‘i’m not struggling,’ you tell her. 

‘i’m glad to hear it.’

‘i’m fine.’ 

she’s quiet. you think about her towering over you. i know you killed yourself. you are a coward. you think about her standing in front of you, putting herself between you and harm. you are worthy. you are. 

‘i’m fine,’ you say again, anger hot on your tongue, hot down your spine. ‘i’ve been fine this whole fucking time but you keep asking so, so if you don’t believe me, let me tell you and maybe you’ll listen this time. i am fine. i’m not struggling. we’re hiding away from the fight and camila is in danger all the time and mary is gone and you - you talk to me but you don’t know me! you don’t know anything about me, and i know you don’t because you still think i’m going to run, or kill myself, but i never did, i never did and i won’t so stop asking me about my fucking life.’

‘ava,’ 

‘and stop saying my name! scolding me? poor crippled girl out on the streets—i have a job! i have friends! i’m really not fucking interested in what you think of me! fuck. you’re all the same. you nuns…you think b-because i’m not on my knees, crying and praying that i’m not grateful? i died! i’m alive! i’m grateful. you want me to thank you? you w-want me to learn how to be perfect from bea so that i’m worthy of the halo? so you don’t decide you’ve had enough of me? lighten the fucking burden of me? fuck perfection, fuck worthiness, fuck your god, and fuck your halo!’ you yell into the phone. anger stings your lungs; there’s not enough space around it for all the air you need. 

‘breathe, ava.’ superion’s voice is muffled by distance and the crackling of the phone line and the dizzy swirl of your head. ‘ava,’ she says more sharply. ‘breathe.’

you breathe in. 

‘good. again.’

you breathe in again, til your chest hurts with it. stumble over to the couch and curl into the arm of it, hand on your chest, feeling the trembling of your muscles, the desperation of your body to breathe, to live. 

superion can hear when you settle a little. ‘i am sorry. my questions have never been about doubt.’ you scoff. ‘if you had come to the OCS another way, i would have asked you these things. i would have taken the time to know you. it is not doubt, ava.’

‘then what the fuck is it?’

‘it is care.’

‘fuck you.’

‘ava,’ 

‘no! fuck you. you’re not my mother.’ you want to cry. you want your scars back. you want anything that tells you you’ve been wanted even once, even if it’s that—a sick, dreamy, drowning memory of a twisting road by the ocean, and scars where a parade of people worked to save your life. your skin is blemish free. ‘i had a mother.’ you pick yourself up from the couch. slam through the kitchen cupboards until you find the vodka hans gifted you. you pour a shot into a stripey mug, clear liquid sloshing onto the tabletop. ‘i had a mother and she died and you’re not her. and the nun who cared for me killed me twice, you know. so. fuck.’ you throw back the shot. it stings. ‘you’re not my mother and i hate your stupid god and you don’t get to care about me. i don’t care. i don’t care. it’s not fair. my mum would—i could’ve told her, i could’ve come home to her. hey mum, i went on a date with a girl tonight and it was really nice. but i can’t tell her because she’s dead and you’re a shitty substitute.’

you drink again. and then—because the anger doesn’t feel as good as you hoped it would and doesn’t do anything about the sadness unspooling in your stomach, glossy and tangled like the tape out of a cassette—you twist the cap back onto the vodka and set it back into the cupboard. 

superion says, ‘i’m not your mother. that’s true. but i am here to listen to you, and guide you. and i was unduly harsh on you but there is no doubt in my mind or my heart that you are worthy, not only of the halo but of the extraordinary life you will lead. and i am sorry that you cannot kiss someone and go home and call your mother.’

you’re standing, still pantless, in the kitchen and superion is being nice to you when you’ve just yelled at her more than you’ve yelled at anyone, ever. you sniffle. ‘a girl. kiss a girl and call my mother.’

‘yes. a girl.’

‘that’s important.’

‘i understand.’

‘it’s scary,’ you admit. ‘but it’s really awesome. and - and i don’t want to give any time to people and the church who think it’s a sin, i really don’t. because there are people who think - who have been made to think that it is a sin, that they’re bad and they’re not. they’re really wonderful, they’re beautiful and incredible and good. and i know you have faith in something, i don’t want - i don’t want to disrespect that - you love god and that’s cool or whatever. but if god has a plan for me, it’s shitty and it hurt and it’s not fair and i don’t want - i don’t believe in anything that cruel, i’m not going to and you can’t make me.’ you’re really tired all of a sudden. and very drunk. ‘i want my mum. do you have - you can talk to the pope, right? can he talk to god for me? can he make sure my mum is happy? i don’t believe but i think she did. can you - can you tell me if she’s happy? do you think she’d be proud of me?’

superion’s voice is thick with something you are too drunk to decipher. ‘yes, ava. she would.’ you feel turned inside out. like she’s touching raw, exposed nerves when she says, ‘thank you for talking to me.’

‘had to get drunk ‘n’ sad to do it. hooray.’ 

‘please drink some water and ensure the door is locked.’

‘’kay.’ you shuffle around to lock the door. pour a glass of water. it spills a little down your front but, whatever, it’s just water. ‘okay,’ you say again when you’re done. ‘sorry. for yelling.’

‘you are forgiven. and ava… you are fine. you are good. you do not believe, but i do, that God has made you in His image.’

‘wow. god��s really hot, huh? that’s cool.’ 

//

you sleep. beatrice is home when you wake up, sitting at the kitchen table with a book, a bowl of cut-up fruit, and a croissant. you don’t have a headache—thanks, halo—but your mouth is dry like you’ve eaten a mouthful of fucking sand and when you stumble out of bed to dunk your head in the kitchen sink, drinking straight from the table, she watches you, hawk-eyed. 

it’s only when you stand, wipe your chin with your wrist, and flop into the chair opposite beatrice, stealing a piece of her fruit, that you realise you are pantless. without pants. 

the tips of beatrice’s ears are red. her jaw is tight. ‘please put your pants away when you take them off,’ she says, and turns the page of her book even though you’re pretty sure she wasn’t done reading the last one. 

‘uh. yeah. i will.’

her finger taps against the spine of the book. ‘did you - was it fun?’

‘yeah.’ 

‘good. i’m glad.’ beatrice pushes the croissant over to you. ‘pain au chocolat,’ she says, and you realise that the croissant isn’t hers, it’s yours, she bought it for you because she never buys herself chocolate croissants. you think of her standing in the beautiful, warm bakery after a stupid long shift and buying you a pastry to eat after you went on a date with another woman and she watches your hands for a while as you split the croissant, which flakes between your fingers, smears buttery goodness everywhere. you break off a tiny bit and hold it out to her. ‘it’s  for you,’ she says, shakes her head. 

‘try it.’

she gives in. she gives in, beautiful when she does it. hungry. takes the little piece and pops it between her lips, which curl upwards, pastry melting, chocolate melting on her tongue. there’s a bit of pastry on her lip and the whole room is full of light. 

#tagging my stories #prompt fill #avatrice #warrior nun #i would kill n die for ava i hope u know that #mother superion

[angelasscribbles]

What Once Was

Fandom: Vying for Versailles (Romance Club)

Summary: Renee married someone else. But what happens when Alexandre comes back into her life?

“Madame, you have a visitor.”

Renée looked up from her writing desk curiously. She hadn’t been expecting anyone. “Who is it, Beatrice?”

Beatrice had served Renee since she had first set foot in Versailles all those years ago. She had risen from lady’s maid to maîtresse d'hôtel. Her duties now involved overseeing all the other household servants at Chateau de Marly.

“It’s Monsieur Bontemps, Madame.”

The door to the study swung wide as the mistress of house backed away, revealing Alexandre, his fingers twisting nervously at the hat clasped in his hands.

Renee rose from her desk with surprised delight and swept across the room to greet him with a hug. “Alexandre! This is a pleasant surprise! Wait….” She drew back with a worried crease across her brow, “Is all well? The king—”

“The king is fine, Madame.”

Her good mood faltered as her eyes tracked his face noting the agitation in his stance. Very little rattled the king’s spymaster. “Then why are you here?”

“I was hoping we could have a private conversation.” His eyes darted around the room. “May I come in?”

“Certainly, but I think we would be more comfortable in the small sitting room.” She stepped out of the study and led him down the hallway to the smallest of the sitting rooms. It was cozy, plush, and private.

She gave Beatrice instructions to send a maid in with tea service then she shut the door. Turning back to him, she crossed her arms and studied him closely.

He was fidgety, clearly wound up about something, which was completely out of character for him. She couldn’t help the smile that crawled across her face as she took in his agitation. “Do I still make you nervous, Alexandre?”

“You do have a way of knocking my equilibrium off balance, Madame.” He gave her a small smile.

The affection and heat in his gaze sent butterflies exploding through her stomach. “That is good to know, Monsieur.”

He arched an eyebrow skeptically, “You think me indifferent to you?”

“Perhaps.”

“I could never be indifferent to you.” The pure, undisguised longing on his face sent shivers cascading down her spine.

There was a brief lull in their conversation as the tea was served. Renee watched the maid retreat as she stirred her tea. With her eyes focused on the cup in her hand, she softly said, “You should have stayed.”

“Renee…I couldn’t stay in close proximity to you knowing I could never touch you again.”

She glanced up at him and her tone was sharp as she told him, “Those were the choices you made.”

He sighed as he carefully sat his cup on the table. It was the same argument they’d had before he had left for Geneva to serve the king’s interest in Switzerland. “You didn’t choose me.”

“I did. I simply didn’t choose only you,” she reminded him. “And it’s not like you were ever going to marry me anyway.”

“A spymaster—”

“I know. Believe me, I remember all your excuses.”

“They weren’t excuses.”

“Weren’t they?”

He didn’t answer. He had told her that they could never be a couple. He hadn’t had a noble title back then and his work made it almost impossible to conduct a love affair. But when she had accepted a proposal from the Prince du Sang, it had felt like a knife plunged into his heart.

He drew in a deep breath and decided to tell her the truth. “There’s something you don’t know, Renee. I did approach Louis about a possible match. The king had been offering to ennoble me for years. I thought, maybe…”

Renee jerked in surprise, nearly spilling her tea in the process, “What?”

“My request was rejected out of hand and when Philippe got down on one knee in front of the entire court a mere day later, I understood why.”

Louis loved him like a brother. But Philippe was his brother. And he had probably asked first. The prince was a better match for her anyway. He knew that.

Renee quickly sat her cup down and tried to quell the shaking in her hands. “Alexandre…why didn’t you tell me?”

“After witnessing firsthand your pure joy at accepting another man’s proposal? What would have been the point?” He had, instead, determined to keep his distance from her.

And yet when their paths crossed, he had found that he still could not resist her. “Do you remember that night in Paris, right before your wedding?”

Madame de France, princess, duchess, and marquise did not blush easily, but her cheeks colored at the reminder. “Of course I do. But why are you bringing that up? Why are you bringing any of it up now?”

“Pardon?”

“Why discuss these things now? After all this time?”

“Ah, yes.” And here was the reason for his visit. “Do you remember when you told me that you would recognize me anywhere?”

“Yes. And you said the same. What does that have to do with why you’re here?”

“Only that I by chance saw you last time I was in Paris on the king’s business. I only saw your profile as you climbed into your carriage, but I knew it was you.”

“And you didn’t think to say hello?”

“I started to but then I saw your son.”

“Louis-Philippe?”

“Yes. One of the servants handed him up into the carriage to you and I got a clear view of his face, Renee.”

Her heart stopped. “And?”

“And he favors neither the prince nor a certain count that you are overly fond of.”

She ignored his reference to Armand as her heart started to thump even harder. She knew exactly who the child favored but she wasn’t going to make this easy on him. Her hands and her voice were steady as she looked him directly in the eye. “What are you asking me, Alexandre?”

“Is he….is he mine?”

She jumped up from her seat and stalked across the room to stare out the window. After a long pause, she replied, “You are not a father in the way that Philippe is. You do not tuck him into bed at night nor ease his fears when the thunder booms. He does not know you.”

He stood and followed her across the room, resting a hand on her shoulder. “That’s not what I’m asking, and you know it.”

Without turning to look at him, she whispered, “Yes, he was conceived that night in Paris.”

Alexandre’s world tilted on its axis. He had known, of course, the moment he had seen the child’s face. But to have confirmation…. He dropped his hand and stepped away from her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Anger flared through her as she spun to face him and flung his own words back at him. “What would have been the point? You ran away from me fast enough the moment you didn’t like my choices.”

“But a child, Renee!”

“By the time I knew I was with child, I was already married! What would you have had me do? Put it in a letter so your enemies could use it against us both? You well know how easy it is to intercept correspondence.”

He nodded in acquiescence. He could not fault her logic. “And the Prince du Sang... does he….”

“Philippe knows. He does not care.”

“I find that hard to believe, Madame.”

“Did you think we were cuckolding him every time we were together?”

“Well…”

“I told you, before he even proposed, what our arrangement was!”

“Yes, but I—”

“You what? You thought I was lying?” She stepped closer. So close she could smell the vanilla and cardamom scent that always clung to him. So close that she could feel the heat radiating from him, sense the tension in his body, “I may lie to everyone else in service to my king and my country, but I have never lied to you nor him! I do not lie to the people that I love.”

Alexandre froze, shock, pleasure, and disbelief coursing through him at her words. She loved him?

Oblivious to his reaction to her unintentional confession, she plowed on. “And your assertation that I would have divided loyalties was preposterous! My loyalty to my husband would never put me at cross purposes with you, Alexandre and you know it! Philippe loves his brother and is loyal to him. Furthermore, I do not tell him everything that I know or that I do. He understands and respects the need for discretion when it comes to my duties as a spymaster! He would never ask me to betray—”

“Alright! Alright!” He held both hands up in surrender with a bemused chuckle.

“It’s not funny, Alexandre!” She stood in the middle of the room, just inches from him, cheeks red and chest heaving with emotion.

He was struck nearly speechless by her beauty. She was even more breathtaking when she was angry. How was that possible? He took an involuntary step toward her.

She froze, her eyes trained on him, but she didn’t back away.

He took another step toward her, this one purposeful.

They stood, unmoving, staring into each other’s eyes; two hearts pounding in anticipation. He lifted a hand and reached out for her just as the sitting room door banged open.

“There you are, my love! I—oh! I didn’t realize we had company.” The prince stopped short, causing the chevalier who had been hot on his heels to collide into his backside.

Alexandre jerked his hand back and stepped away awkwardly. “My prince! I…” he executed a low bow. “So lovely to see you again.”

Philippe’s eyes took in the valet’s flushed and guilty expression and then his wife’s stoic demeanor. Renee had not backed away when he entered the room. She had stood her ground. Her ire was evident and he smothered a smile. He understood everything. “It’s always a pleasure to see you, Alexandre, but let’s not pretend you came here for me.”

“I….” For the first time in his life, Alexandre was struck completely speechless.

Renee finally moved, closing the distance to greet her husband with a hug and a quick peck on the cheek. She murmured in his ear, “He knows about Louie.”

“Hm,” he hugged her back, but his gaze was trained on his brother’s spymaster.

Renee moved around her husband to greet the chevalier with the same hug and kiss she had just given her husband. “How was grouse hunting?”

“As usual, we didn’t find a single grouse but at least we didn’t end up drunk in a fountain again.” The chevalier laughed at his own joke as he returned her hug. Not a day passed that he didn’t count his blessings.

There had been a time when the king had been adamant that Philippe make a political marriage, likely to some English noblewoman who would expect fidelity from him. He would forever be grateful that Louis had allowed the prince to marry Renee and that Renee had never blinked at the relationship between the two men. Now he practically lived at Chateau de Marly and was both a godfather and cherished uncle to their son. They functioned very well as a threesome and while his whole heart belonged to the prince, he wasn’t completely indifferent to Renee.

He also liked the life they had built together very much so he glared suspiciously at the intruder. “Why are you here, Monsieur Bontemps?”

Finally recovering, Alexander stiffly replied, “I had some…business to discuss with the duchess.”

Renee snorted. “Business? Is that what this is, Alexandre?”

He flushed scarlet which caused the other two men in the room to laugh.

The prince spoke first. “Let’s drop the pretense, shall we? Renee and I have no secrets from each other nor do I keep secrets from the chevalier. His discretion is not in question. You may speak freely. Everyone in this room knows that Louis is your son. So why are you really here?”

“Do you wish to challenge me to a duel, Monsieur?” Alexandre asked carefully.

Philippe looked at him askance. “Why would I do that?”

Alexandre shook his head slowly. “Most men in your position would.” It was dawning on him that Renee had been telling the full truth of the matter. Philippe showed no signs of rage or jealousy.

Of course, it was an open secret at court that his affair with the chevalier never ended, but for most men indulging their own desires did not mean they were tolerant of their wives doing the same.

Philippe’s face broke into a wide smile. “When have you ever known me to be like most men? Come now, stay for dinner and we can discuss everything.”

“As tempting as that sounds…I have some urgent business matters I must attend to tonight. However….”

“Yes?”

“With your leave, I would like to visit the child. As a family friend, of course. I would never disclose the true nature of our relationship to him.”

“You want a relationship with our son?” Renee asked so quietly he almost missed it.

Turning to face her with beseeching eyes he answered her. “If it pleases you, then yes.”

Renee closed her eyes briefly as she fought against the onslaught of conflicting emotions that collided inside her at the thought. When she opened them again, she blinked up at him. “I think I would like that very much.”

Profound relief swirled through him at her answer. He had not known what to expect when he knocked on her door, but things had gone better than he could have imagined. Turning his attention back to Philippe, he asked, “And this is alright with you?”

“It is. You’ll find Louie is a capricious and wild little hellion who delights in his friendships with children and adults alike. I think he’ll be good for you.”

Alexandre barked out a surprised laugh. “He’ll be good for me?”

“Yes….” Philippe drawled out with a mischievous grin. “I think you need to loosen up and he’s just the person to help you do it.”

The king’s valet turned to go but an idea had taken root in his mind and he could not let it go. Turning back he asked, “And your wife?”

“What about her?”

“May I have permission to resume our….friendship?”

“Oh, he wants to court your wife!” The chevalier chortled out loud.

“Monsieur,” Philippe shook his head. “You disappoint me. I thought you understood. You do not need my permission. You need hers.”

Alexandre turned slowly, his heart thudding in his chest. “Madame. I would be most grateful if you would agree to indulge me in a conversation soon. I think we have many things to discuss.”

“For how long?”

“I’m sorry?”

“How long will these discussions go on? When do you leave again?”

He nodded in understanding. “Given today's revelations, and assuming you will continue to welcome me as a visitor in your home, I will start making the preparations to return to my house in Paris immediately and permanently.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment and then she nodded. “I would like you to get to know our son and I would be open to you and I having a conversation about where we go from there.”

He couldn’t help the smile that crawled across his face. He left the chateau with a spring in his step.

The truth was, he had not been happy since he’d left court shortly after her wedding. He hadn’t thought he could share her, open relationship with her husband or not. But an even larger concern had been his fear of openly loving her, thereby making her a target for his enemies, which were many.

He would never be comfortable being physically affectionate with her in front of others, he was more private than that, but if there was still a relationship to be had with her, there couldn’t be a more perfect cover than her marriage. No one ever had to know what she meant to him, or that he had a child. They could therefore never be used against him.

The thought of rekindling what they once had made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time….happiness.

It was entirely possible that things had worked out for him after all.

#vying for versailles #rc vying for versailles #rc vfv #rc alexandre #rc renée #fanfiction #fanfic #romance club #vfv

[butchhamlet]

hi i consider you to be the ultimate authority on turning shakespeare characters into lesbians, so do you have any thoughts on wlw macbeth and lady macbeth (so far my only thought is, "that would be hot. and tragic")

the macbeths are in the same category as benedick and beatrice for me, that is, the "these characters being a man and a woman is very integral to their story, their development, and the way they interact with one another but also i want them to be lesbians soooooo fucking bad" category. which. well. there's the answer i guess KDHFKNSDFKNDSFNS. i'm not sure i have a proper intelligent answer here, because a LOT of things about the dynamic are less thematically rich if macbeth is a woman, but, like. maybe i want him to be a woman. what then. maybe i think it would be sexy for a woman to be the best warrior in scotland. maybe i think it would be interesting for the macbeths to do a murder to become dual queens. maybe i think the implication that the macbeths have lost a child hits in a different way if it's seen as something preventing them from being/having a "proper" family. maybe i think about two women who love each other so much and so fiercely that they would do anything to be together, and the tragedy that comes with the two of them then disintegrating so far from each other that they both die alone. maybe i think they're hot,

also i know i'm the guy who butches people but in my heart of hearts the lesbian macbeths are femme4femme. except lady macbeth is femme like a femme fatale in red velvet with sharp eyeliner and macbeth is femme like that picture of the muppet in a sweater

also ALSO. this makes macbeth and lady m vs macduff and malcolm wlw/mlm hostility, which compels me

#or lady macbeth is butch. that's also an option #which personally i find more interesting than the obvious butch macbeth / femme lady m #because . i dunno. maybe i'm thinking with my d[gunshot] #max.txt #asks #macbeth #lady macbeth

[vintagetvstars]

Bea Arthur Vs. Bea Benaderet

Propaganda

Bea Arthur - (Golden Girls, Maude) - Okay okay where do I even start!! Bea Arthur is incredibly attractive. She has a SUPER deep voice (stunning), a sort of regal, statuesque way of moving and talking, and she can kill you with a single piercing look. Like seriously. Her Looks have become a thing in both shows she plays a lead character in. Did I mention: TWO characters were *written for her*!! When she did Maude in 1972, she'd appeared on All in the Family as a side character and the people there loved her so much they went "this woman needs her own TV show". SO THEY WROTE IT. And made 6 seasons of it. That's how good she is. When the pilot for The Golden Girls was written, creator Susan Harris described the part that Bea would end up playing as a "Bea Arthur type" before they'd even cast her in the role. She was Jewish, she served as a typist and truck driver in the marines during WWII, she had a whole career off and on Broadway behind her by the time she started her career in television, and she was an ally to the gay community — there's even a shelter for homeless queer youth named after her. And did I mention her voice?? Because she can sing too!

Bea Benaderet - (The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show, Petticoat Junction, The Beverly Hillbillies) - she's so good in everything she's in. she was also a voice actress and did betty rubble in the flintstones and a lot of looney tunes!

Master Poll List of the Hot Vintage TV Ladies Bracket

Additional propaganda below the cut

Bea Arthur:

She was just so funny and compelling onscreen. She had great timing. And she was beautiful no matter what age and she was an incredibly LGBT+ ally.

I think it's a very common experience to start watching The Golden Girls and immediately develop a crush on Dorothy Zbornak - and it's not a coincidence. Between her statuesque figure, her regal poise, her sharp wit and her wonderful, deep voice, Bea Arthur brings so much to the table that it's impossible not to be head-over-heels in love with her from the very first moment she appears on screen. Career-wise, she's a legend of the small screen; she received the third most Emmy nominations for Lead Actress in a Comedy Series (an incredible 9!). Her guest appearance as Maude in All in the Family impressed both the public and the executives so much that they made a spin-off series *especially for her*. She led Maude - the sitcom - for six incredible seasons to critical and public acclaim, and this would already be enough to nominate her among the greats, but then - as the true queen she was - she went on to star into *another* legendary show, The Golden Girls, as *another* legendary character, Dorothy, and won another Emmy (as well as several nominations) for it, just because she could. As for her private life, she was known as a private, introverted person, who loved the simple things in life; all her fellow TV stars (including Angela Lansbury, who was a dear friend of hers) recall her as a kind, decent person and a wonderful professional, with impeccable work ethic and truly immaculate comedic timing. We do not support the military complex here, but we do support girlbosses winning, so let me just mention that she was one of the first women (ever!) to join the US marines; she was also a licensed medical technician. All in all - a legendary lady who definitely deserves your vote!

how many people can dress up as the Statue of Liberty and look this good?

have you ever seen a woman so beautiful you started crying

MOTHER

soft butch queen. Who else could rock a papillon like that?!?

1982 Bea Arthur - Fifty Percent.avi

Beatrice Arthur, Down in the Depths, 1980 TV

Bea Benaderet:

#BornOnThisDay: Bea Benaderet | #TheBeverlyHillbillies

#vintage tv stars poll #tv ladies 1 #bea benaderet #bea arthur #Youtube

[possibilistfanfiction]

Prompt suggestion I loved the grandmas! So Ava's grandmas squad at the wedding maybe? :D

you've been to many, many weddings in your life: your own, the most important; your siblings' and your children's and your grandchildren's, blessing after blessing. most have been fun, and, especially as you get older, you enjoy everyone happily bringing you copious amounts of champagne and an extra slice of cake, dancing with you on rotation.

you've been to so many weddings but, of them all, this might be the most beautiful.

part of it is probably because, as you had discovered, beatrice has more money than god. she's not flashy about spending it; whenever she comes to the country club to have lunch, she's in soft earth tones, but you have been wealthy long enough to notice the clean tailoring and how her hair, especially after she cuts it short — which ava had informed your group of breathlessly one day — is always neat and shiny, her rolex and ring understated but beautiful all the same. it feels, retrospectively, a little like you've gotten to watch them both grow up, and grow into themselves. also, amusingly, you hadn't quite realized how wealthy she was until you'd gone to their home for lunar new year, two years ago, and then you had fully comprehended, with a fair amount of humor, because ava had never mentioned anything and had always been excited and friendly and down to earth, more than happy to spend time with a group of old ladies.

this is also the most beautiful because it's on the beach, and because all of it is designed to be accessible for anyone with mobility aids, even though it's in the sand. everyone has taken their shoes off, and there are flowers everywhere and a small, wooden altar, ornate and subtle, that beatrice and ava stand in front of. there's stephanotis woven into ava's hair, and her dress is all gossamer and lace, small straps over her shoulders and the back dipping low. you've seen her scars almost every week since you'd met, but you've been alive a long time and you know that there's a measure of love that exists in her life — fought for by her; inevitably created by her, you think, too, with her steadfastness and her undeniable charm — that makes those scars just part of this night. part of this love.

beatrice, in a sharp navy suit and a t-shirt tucked in underneath, her slacks rolled up above her ankles, has been crying since she saw ava, sniffling and laughing intermittently, and ava had started to cry while she was saying her own vows. it's a simple ceremony, short and so heartfelt, and angela offers you an ornate embroidered hanky silently when beatrice quietly promises her life to ava; they've invited everyone they love and still she says it like they're the only two people in the world.

at the reception, eventually ava finds you on the dance floor, even though her eyes flit back to beatrice often.

ava smiles at the young man — named keiko, he'd said, one of beatrice's friends from the dojo — currently dancing with you and he kisses her cheek with a laugh when she asks to cut in.

'sorry,' she says, 'if you wanted to keep dancing with him. i will say that he has a very cute boyfriend anyway.'

you laugh. 'i would rather dance with you; it's kind of beatrice to spare you.'

'eh, i have her forever. i wanted to dance with the second most beautiful woman here.'

you laugh. 'she is very, very handsome.'

ava groans. 'i didn't know she was going to wear that jacket. her brother surprised her with it.'

it's gorgeous, maybe one of the most beautiful pieces you've ever seen; angela had gasped quietly when beatrice and ava had walked in, and it had made you laugh around a crostini. 'i've asked all my children and grandchildren this, at their weddings,' you say, and you don't miss the way ava's eyes water immediately, 'are you happy?'

of course, you already know the answer. you've never seen two people happier with each other, more comfortable in and out of each other's orbits together, like you have the two of them. ava reminds you of aaron, you often think, with a pang you've felt for the past seven years — joyful, the entire world a little in awe of them, the delight of knowing that you're the center of their universe overcoming everything else.

'this is the happiest day of my life. i am — it's beyond words.'

it makes you want to cry, but you already have and ava glances over your shoulder with a soft smile, meant for one person only. 'good,' you tell her. 'you will have all the happiness in this life, with the love you've found.'

'it feels like a miracle.' she looks at the ring on her finger, elegant; perfect for her and her constant motion, inlaid with diamonds.

'it is a miracle,' you say. 'a blessing, a love like yours.'

'ruth, i really can't cry again.' you laugh. 'but — yes. i've loved her before, many times, i think. in one way or the other.'

she says it like there's only truth to it; certainty. without doubt. faith. maybe you will be young again; maybe you will meet aaron in some other form and build another life, blessings greater than the stars. beatrice's hair falls into her eyes and she dances with her niece and nephew. 'i believe you have.'

ava smiles. 'thank you for coming, and for the dance.'

you hug her, hold her to you for a moment, one of your favorite people in the world. a slow song starts and you spin her by the hips. 'go dance with your wife.'

she melts a little, a grin on her face. 'yeah,' she says, 'my wife.'

the party goes late, the joy overflowing. beatrice looks asleep on her feet when you leave but you hug her too, with her beautiful jacket and eyes that are always only ever for ava.

'thank you for coming,' she says, hugging you tight, 'and for being so wonderful to ava, and to me.'

'congratulations, on an undoubtedly beautiful life. thank you for letting me be in it.'

she nods, her smile gentle. you find angela and head to her car; thank god she can still competently drive at night.

'burgers?' you ask, and she laughs.

'didn't we eat so much food?'

you shrug. 'milkshakes, at least?'

'you are a terrible influence,' she says, but she grins and drives toward in n out and she's your best friend. another blessing, in this life, another love.

'i'm glad we've lived long enough to see that wedding.'

'don't call us old.'

'what was your favorite part.'

angela smiles, gently, bathed in the streetlights while you wait at an intersection. 'their vows, of course.'

in this life, and the next and the next, you remember. 'they mean them.'

'yes,' angela says. 'more than anyone i've ever met.'

'our grandchildren.'

angela laughs. 'a good night.'

she caves and orders herself a cheeseburger too, and then drives to the beach. you can't sit on her trunk anymore but you roll the windows down and it counts, this life and the next, all the same.

#wn #avatrice #avatrice fic #prompts #avas grandmas! they have also adopted bea #i love them #butch bea 🥺🫡

[stardancerluv]

A Time to Love and to Fight

Part: Thirty One

Summary: The truth comes to life.

Notes/Warnings: Angst, flashbacks to the barricade, mortality questions. 🍋Lemonade🍋 came to London in the 1800’s they made it with Honey, before it became chic…men on ships used to drink it to prevent scurvy.

❤️s, feedback, reblogs and comments are appreciated.

He slipped free of his coat, untied and pulled his scarlet scarf from his throat. Laying them on his desk, he turned and kelt in front of his cupboard. When the door creaked open, he glanced around. He hated hiding this from you. It wasn’t in his nature.

Though he did not want to risk upsetting you or his unborn child. Uncovering, the sabers, he took the one had grown more comfortable toward. Inhaling, he began slicing through the room.

At first it was only his room that was a blur as he moved around. His heart began to beat harder, his breathing shallowed as his room began to fade it shifted in his mind to when he had first began to art of the sword. It had been at an early age when he learned on how easy it was for him move about. He was good at dodging and deflecting.

As a child, he never found it hard to find a place for his foot when climbing a tree or running across rocks that made it easier to cross a brook on his family’s estate. His heart lurched as his mind brought back the moments in the alley. The space easily had grown tight and the air had soured with plumes of smoke from the pistols and canons. The barricade fell broken in mere moments. A vision of his friend, Courfeyrac; he had long since laid rest his memory. He had been brave stood tall and made it possible for him and you run away from the soldiers that burst through the doors.

Stopping, lifting his arm clad in a start white sleeve he brushed aside the sweat that blossomed on his forehead. Thank you dear friend, he whispered in his mind.

“Mon amour.” There was a knock and creek of his door opening as your voice fluttered over to his ears.

Turned on his heal.

“There you are.” Your voice was so light, like the sunlight that shone into his room.

He coughed, holding the sword close to him. He glanced back at you over his shoulder. “Yes?”

He saw your brow furrow and your smile wavered but remained.

“A message came. I thought we’d read it together.”

“Ah, yes…yes. Bring it and yourself to the sitting room. I will shall join you shortly.”

“Oh, yes that shall be pleasant.” And his door snapped shut.

He relaxed, though annoyance prickled him. He hated that his words to you were as sharp as the sword in his hands. His heart rode his emotions, his actions. He crossed the short distance to his cupboard. He had to compose himself before joining you.

******

“My lady?” The soft voice of Beatrice broke the world of the book in your lap.

“Oh? Yes?” You were still getting addressed as such. Greta had always been respectful but lady, that was an entirely different class then you ever expected to be addressed in. And in these last couple of months. You realized not to argue with Beatrice over it. In the end, it only helped you and Enjolras in your new life.

“Sorry to disturb you but a message came for Sir Julien.”

You put the book down and with a quick breath, you stood and went over to her. “I would love to bring it to him.”

“I am sure, he will enjoy that all the more.”

Beatrice then handed it to you before turning and returning back to whatever task she busied herself with beforehand.

You can tell it had been replaced on the smooth and more elegant paper for the destination it was to reach. The paper felt very nice nice in your hands.

******

You were confused as to why he had not turned to even face you. His words, his tone were like an icy shadow compared to the days you had heard him speak warmly and passionately.

“Oh, yes that shall be pleasant.”

You felt a churning inside of you, not wanting anything further from this shadow of the man you loved, you closed the door at his last word.

******

On the small table besides the chaise, you tossed away the fine paper. The exchange between the two of you didn’t make you inclined to hold it any longer.

Eyeing the pitcher you wondered of its contents. You smiled seeing the sweet lemon and honey mixture. Beatrice, knowing you didn’t always want to ring by bell or other means would leave you pitchers ready for your thirst would fall over you. Though it was best kept inside because if you were to go to the garden, she would bring it out. Because if not it attracted more beings then the flowers did.

You poured yourself a glass, then holding your day dress just so you said down on the chaise. The cushions were very comforting and the dye chosen in it always pleased you. It reminded you on the sun shining down water by a forest or the ocean when it was not angry.

******

“There is my ange.” You noticed that his words had soften.

You barely glanced his way, and u took a sip from your cup.

He closed the door and soon his shadow fell over you, as he stopped on the other side of the table.

“Is this the message?”

You looked up, you immediately noticed the top buttons on his billowy shirt were undone and a flush dusted his cheeks. It made you pause. “Yes.”

You noticed that he also poured himself a cup. “I am glad you are fond of this.” He held up the cup and soon he snatched the envelope in his other hand and came and sat beside you. He took sip.

“It is very pleasant. It lays close to my heart like a deep rose tea.”

He smiled. “You do enjoy your tea.”

You nodded.

He put the cup down. He held up the envelope. “From home, I do wonder what they coiled possibly want.”

You put down your cup, reaching up you drew his hand down. “What is the matter?”

His brows knit together. “What are you questioning?“

You swallowed. “You.”

The flush returned to his cheeks.

“I see you infrequently unless it is time to slumber or eat.” You shrugged. “Yes, on the occasion I see you in the garden and we take in its beauty like we did in the park so long ago. But now, you act as if I have grown to be a nuisance or I am no longer bare any importance in your life.”

You finally spoke of all that had been lingering in your heart. A tear escaped and ran down your cheek.

He pressed his lips together, he placed the letter back on the table and finished what was in his cup. You didn’t dare move, you felt as if he was gonna spring off the chaise like a kitten would if it was hoping to catch a butterfly or a mouse. And right now you couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving your side.

Then he did the unexpected. He shifted and moved till he was sitting like he had under the willow in garden of your home. His back now more comfortably supported by the curve of the chaise.

The sight of him before you as such made your heart yearn.

“Do not break my heart.”

“Oh, my sweet amour.” Easily, having forgotten the strength he has you found yourself nestled close to him.

You laid like this. Silence had fallen over the two of you like a blanket would have. You felt the beat of his hear, the warmth of his breath and his arms draped loosely around you. That you knew was for fear of disturbing the baby that still grew with you.

“Oh my amour.” He spoke again lifting his chin from where it had nestled in the strands of your hair.

“Our life, our destiny more mine that yours may cause your heart to break, not I. In my wild, undignified ways I will always love you.”

His words, the feel of his heart beating harder, made you move so you could look at him.

“Not long after we arrived and wonderful news of the blessing of a child filled our new home. A storm, a shadow drifted and reached our shores from our past.”

You watched as he swallowed. Despite the warmth of him around you, coolness prickled you.

“A man, a solider is seeking revenge for my action. I struck down his son at the barricade. Now he is searching and wishes to do the same to me.”

“That was during a fight, skirmish I dare say. Deaths, men get slain.”

He nodded.

“Did I grow angry at the boat that went down or the ocean that swallowed my father? No. I was made that it was my father. Does be not see this?”

“No. He does not see that it was an act or war. There was no personal thoughts. It was a question of survival.”

You nestled close. “What are you to do?”

“I watch my shadow and I have been practicing with the sabers, my father sent me.”

“Enjolras, why…but why?” You were at a loss as why did not fair this horrific news with you.

One of his gently reached and held what he could of your growing stomach.

“What if he found you while you would be at the tavern? Were I then to find out when you would not return to us?”

He stilled under you. “To be honest, the thought had never came to me.”

******

You had not been able to sleep, reading by candlelight finally you felt as sleepiness clawed at you.

You felt the bed give after what felt like moments after you had pulled the blanket more tightly around you.

“Enjolras?” Your voice scratchy from sleep.

“Yes, mon amour.”

The bed gave only this time, only beside you. You blinked at the now glow of the candle on the table beside the bed.

Looking up you smiled seeing, Enjolras in and out of the shadows. It made him all the more handsome at that moment. You watched as could see etched on his face.

“Are you alright?”

“I just could have sworn I had just crawler back into bed when you awoke. I was worried I disturbed you.”

“I don’t think so. I had just used the water closet and seeing the dawn, I knew I had best travel to the harbor. The package mentioned in the letter should be arriving today.”

“Would you have awoken me?”

He smiled and ran his fingers through his curls. “Once the carriage was ready.”

“Let me come with you.”

You put your hand over his.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

“I will stay in the carriage. I need to do something outside of our estate.”

He pressed his lips together. He knew there was no stopping you.

“You are my husband.” You admitted. You were not that rebellious.

He inhaled and absently rubbed his goatee. “Maybe we can eat at the tavern or perhaps even do a little shopping.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but make me a promise my amour.”

“Please, if I grow concerned you will listen to me. I don’t quite trust these English men.”

“I promise.”

*******

The carriage rolled and bumped through the countryside. The world world turned but a murky dark blue, to purple to violet and finally to a clear light blue.

You say absently, after stirring.

“Looks like it will be a good day.” You yawn softly, waling more from your unexpected nap.

With the shaking, the creaks and cracks of the carriage the two of you actually had drifted off for more that half of the portion of the trip to the city proper.

He gave you a side long glance. “You look like a proper English lady with the hat and the gloves.” He rolled his shoulders, before stretching out his legs with a sigh.

You squeezed his arm before glancing down at yourself. “You think so?”

“Only far lovelier.”

Your cheeks flushed. “Enjolras. How is it you still make me blush.”

“Because my words speak the truth.”

@henry-cavs-tudor @corrodedcoffn @dealswiththedevilsblog @randomstory56 @pl1nfa1 @phantomxoxo @ladybug0095 @the-iridescent-phoenix @maryan028 @kindablackenedsuperhero @amethyst-serenade @moondev1l @samunson83 @julieteagk @little-wormwood @wafflepixie @shadyhamiltonfanatic @gretavankleep37 @peacefroggg23 @capailluiscedove @poisonedeuphoria

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn fanfic #joe quinn fanfic #enjolras #bbc!enjolras #bbc! enjolras imagine #bbc! enjolras fanfiction #bbc! enjolras x fem!reader #enjolras x fem!reader #enjolras x reader #enjolras x you #enjolras x y/n #bbc les mis #les miserables #bbc! les miserables #les miserable imagine #les miserables fanfiction #a time to love and to fight #part 31

[moongurl95]

Chapter 9 – Secrets of the Restricted Section

It was a sunny day that afternoon in early September, though the breeze coming through the Black Lake made the air cool and the gentle waves that could be heard lapping at the nearby Boathouse almost managed to lull Beatrice into a nice nap following her rather eventful morning and the hearty lunch she just had from the Great Hall—

“Enjoying ourselves, aren’t we?” Came the teasing tone from her companion, to which Beatrice could only hum in acknowledgement as she let her eyes close a moment too long before she could respond, “I quite like this view, Sebastian, thank you.” It reminded her of days back in the convent when she’d sneak down the cliffs to swim by the sea…

“I’m curious though…” Sebastian’s voice had her blinking past her drowsiness as she leaned back onto the gazebo’s railings, tucking her legs beneath her on the stone bench where they sat, the open book on her lap failing to hold her attention for much longer.

“About…?” She’d rested her chin on her hand in an attempt to stifle a yawn, finding amusement instead in having had observed how Sebastian scribbled away at his Charms homework, the tip of his tongue peeking out in concentration just moments ago. There was something charming about him, truly. Beatrice just didn’t know what to make of the Slytherin as this was, by far, the longest time she’d spent in the company of any boy her age. Mother Superior would have surely scolded her ear off had she seen her now, unchaperoned, no less.

“You mentioned your… Nana, being the one who raised you to be aware of Magic— does that mean she was in Ravenclaw too?” Sebastian’s question seemingly chased away any thought of rest from her sleep-addled mind as Beatrice weighed her next words.

“I— assumed she was… She— never really talked much about herself before marrying my grandfather. I actually only have this to go by…” Beatrice then slowly pulled out a simple bronze locket, the eagle intricately engraved on its face seemed to be enough evidence to her claim. She never dared to wear it before though, only kept it close to her person in fear that any of the Sisters might catch a glimpse of the enchanted moving photographs inside…

“May I?” Sebastian had asked, clearly intrigued as he held a hopeful hand out. Why not? She supposed there was no real reason now to hide any magical object in a Wizarding school, after all. In fact, the only thing she had to keep from doing right now was giggling at Sebastian’s poorly concealed attempt to try and find any similarities she shared with the only photos she had of her Nana and mother.

She remembered her Nana having a sternness to her features, while fair for her age at the time the photo was taken, was held back by her hair always kept in a tight bun. A sharp nose only accentuating what Beatrice would recall to be a mostly solemn pair of blue eyes, that looked out from the monochrome photo— no trace of a smile but just tilting her face towards the camera.

Beatrice had sometimes caught a far-away look cast upon her Nana’s face, though she was never privy to her past in the Wizarding World, she doubted the older witch was anymore aware of such a thing called Ancient Magic... Her mother however was a curious case.

A young lady, no older than Beatrice, smiled gently back from the photograph, Roséline Hayes had a calmly face which was softly framed by pale wavy locks of hair— Beatrice had nothing to go by other than this photo, but she found her mother to be quite pretty. Nana had also once remarked with a wistful smile, how her mother took mostly after her grandfather, and seeing how Beatrice didn’t seem to have inherited the fairer features from her maternal side of the family, this only cemented the fact that she might have taken more after her faceless sire, only adding to her Nana’s additional grief.

“Have you tried asking your mentor about her? They may have been contemporaries during their time at Hogwarts?” Sebastian had asked further, turning the locket over as if he’d find any more than what only the pictures offered.

“Professor Fig doesn’t recall of an Aileen who looks like my Nana. Although admittedly a first name is not much to go by if I have no idea of the maiden name she used to carry before then…” She trailed of as if in afterthought, “But enough about me, what about your parents? Was any one of them sorted into Slytherin?” Beatrice hastily chose to change the topic then, reaching for the locket in Sebastian’s hands as she carefully pocketed it.

Her companion thankfully let the matter focus on him instead, almost bashfully rubbing at the nape of his neck before he responded, “Only my uncle actually. My father was a Gryffindor and mother was a Ravenclaw, wasn’t the least bit surprised when the Sorting Hat gave us options.” He paused then, as if hesitating what to say next, “But like I said, Anne made the decision for both of us when she decided to befriend Ominis and I followed suit. I garner it’s the same for your case?”

“Likewise. Though what you said about the Sorting Hat giving you options, had it also mentioned anything about Hufflepuff?” Beatrice did wonder about the fourth house decked in vibrant yellow.

“Ah, our friends who are loyal to a fault, with patience being their virtue. The Sorting Hat may have also mentioned something along those lines to me before…” Sebastian had chuckled as if in remembrance before casting her a teasing look, “But the way I see it, ironically goes against what we’re planning later tonight…”

Beatrice awoke to the insistent chuffs from Hermes as he pulled at the strands of her hair, she had to quietly wave him away as she blearily tried to make sense of how much time had passed when she looked towards the hourglass by her roommates’ side of shelves— thankful that it was a quieter way to track time as she mostly heard Constance’s and Samantha’s soft snores of sleep.

Stroking the heart shaped down that lined Hermes’ feathered face, Beatrice gave him his treat for dutifully waking her up as she had instructed him to, before she quietly pushed open her bedside window to let the barn owl fly off into the night. Casting one last look at the journal entry she’d made about the day, Beatrice silently slipped on her school robe as she carefully made her way out of their dorm room…

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : –. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧

Keeping her footfalls light as she made her way up the wooden stairs and into the Common Room, Beatrice had only just passed by the armory guarding the staircase to the girls’ dorms when she’d then heard footsteps coming down from the stairs behind her. Thinking to back away further into the adjoined room by the fireplace, Beatrice held back a gasp as a hand came out to cover her mouth from behind, gently guiding her to crouch by a wooden trophy case beside the entryway curtain.

It wasn’t until the dim lighting had shown who it was did Beatrice try to even out her breathing, nodding as the other had raised a finger to his lips, motioning her to keep quiet before he’d let go of her as he stood straight and acted like he was just about to round the corner meeting the approaching footsteps, “Larson, all clear here?” Beatrice now recognized the haughty voice that spoke up first.

“Yes, and I’d also checked outside for anyone who couldn’t answer the riddle before curfew.” She saw Andrew reply lightly from her vantage point, not risking to confirm the identity of the other boy he was talking to.

“Can’t have the moonminds costing us more House points, after all.” A scoff, before the other had continued, “That gives me an excuse to use the Floo Flames then, you’re sure you aren’t coming to the Prefects’ Bath tonight? I heard some ladies were actually expecting you.” Beatrice couldn’t help but raise her brows in intrigue upon hearing the last part being said.

“I’d rather not, Fawley. Someone needs to wait for our Housemates to get back from their Astronomy class.”

“Suit yourself. Got the pick of the crop yet you’d rather be the nice lad that finishes last.” Their upperclassman left with a taunting laugh before the whoosh of the Flames had signaled Fawley’s departure.

Beatrice had watched Andrew’s tense posture slowly relax before she’d slowly straightened from her hiding spot and moved closer to him, “So… Popular with the ladies, I hear.” She’d tried for a lighter approach, but Andrew only frowned further as he shook his head, “It’s like an initiation for the new Prefects for the year actually, not quite the type of crowd I’d find myself fond of, really.”

It was his turn then to raise his brows, “But don’t think I’ll let you off the hook too easily.” Crossing his arms, Andrew now regarded her fully, “Please tell me you aren’t off to another Hidden Corridor or whatnot for the sake of another’s trivial sense of worth.”

“I see you’ve also heard about that then…” Beatrice may have caught wind as to what happened after she’d given Duncan his “proof of courage”, though the bespectacled boy had been wise enough to steer clear of her after making such comments about Blood statuses of all things.

“Turned him into a right prat, that he did— all bark and now would probably bite too. Will most likely have to intervene these days once Everett decides to snatch that damn leaf out of Hobhouse’s pillow.” Andrew rubbed at his temple, clearly looking troubled with the situation that Beatrice now felt quite remorseful, she had unwittingly caused it after all.

“I’d have to apologize Andrew, but I really need to go tonight, it’s… actually for myself this time— I promise to make it up to you in some way… Please?”

“I see, well...” He gave her a look as if in utter concentration before sighing, “Would it trouble you to grace me with your time this weekend on a trip to Hogsmeade then?”

That made her blink, she had already made plans to go there with Sebastian this weekend, so it definitely wouldn’t hurt to bring another friend along, “Of course, I’d be happy to.”

“Great! Then might I suggest using the Floo on your way out?” She watched as he gave a quick glance to the nearby grandfather clock before decisively saying, “Drop by at the one near the Divination Classroom and carefully make your way down the spiral staircase once there, it’d be a safer way to get to the Central Hall from here.”

“What—?” Before Beatrice could question how exactly Andrew would know where she was planning to meet Sebastian for the night, the blond was already quickly guiding her towards Ignatia Wildsmith’s bust, his last words of advice only intriguing her more before the Flames had engulfed her.

“And Beatrice, try to put your trust in people more, alright?

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : –. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧

Trust. Sebastian had really found it surprising that Professor Weasley had entrusted him with escorting his new classmate only yesterday, but then again, wasn’t it Beatrice herself that requested his company? And here he was again, having been the one she first thought of to ask in accompanying her in this curious search… He wondered what it really was she’d be looking for down there in those dusty shelves of books— most of which Sebastian himself had scoured over in his search of a possible cure for Anne’s curse.

It was obvious Beatrice was keeping something big from him— no matter how confused she was on casting that powerful blast of magic yesterday, Sebastian was sure it somehow related to why that goblin had Rookwood chasing after them in The Three Broomsticks. He’d risk assuming that Beatrice saw him as someone reliable at this point, but he needed to give her a reason to trust him with her secrets…

Sebastian thought this through silently as he just about relaxed his arms on the balustrade behind him when a flutter of robes caught his eye and there, silently making her way down towards him, was the subject of his current dilemma— the dim light silhouetting her form seemed to give her an even more enigmatic approach to which he’d felt his heart skip a beat, again. Sebastian tried to brush it off by smiling teasingly her way as he raised a finger to his lips, motioning for Beatrice to quietly come over to where he stood, “See there? That’s the door that we need to reach.” He nodded towards the Library’s left entryway, “And those annoying prefects would love nothing more than to rat on us to Scribner, so don’t let them see us— understood?”

“I can be sneaky. Let’s go.” She’d responded with such contained enthusiasm that Sebastian had to hold back a chuckle.

“Hold on now. There’s a spell you should know— the Disillusionment Charm. Good for getting places you’re not supposed to be. Cast it, and you’ll appear as little more than a trick of the light. Just as long as you keep your distance and stay quiet.”

“You mean I’ll actually be able to turn invisible?” Her eyes seemed to gleam like emeralds now as Sebastian watched her excitement form.

“Something like that. It’s not as foolproof as a cloak, but those are expensive. And spells— spells are free. Give it a try.” He wasn’t sure if this was one of the spells Fig had at least taught Beatrice over the summer, but Sebastian made sure to slowly show her the proper wand movement before he’d cast the Disillusionment on himself.

And while Sebastian wasn’t surprised at her getting it at the first cast, he had raised an eyebrow— or two— at observing how easily Beatrice even incorporated the use of Basic Cast to distract the prefects away from their respective posts. She really is good at being sneaky… He’d thought in amusement though remained quiet as a Jobberknoll following after her down the stairs leading into the Library.

It wasn’t until they entered though that Sebastian kept himself from bumping into Beatrice, “Blast. The librarian’s still here. Quick, behind the bookcase.” He’d grabbed at what he assumed to be part of her sleeve but was momentarily shocked to be met with the warmth of her hand, but he instinctively held onto her tighter as he pulled her into hiding before they’d cast off their Disillusionment.

“Damn.” Sebastian couldn’t help but curse quietly as he looked past the bookcase’s corner.

“You told me the librarian would be gone by now.” Beatrice hissed anxiously at him.

“I said ‘usually’, but it’ll still be all right. Do you see her desk behind me?” At seeing her terse nod in response, Sebastian had calmly continued instructing, “The key is in the drawer of that desk. Now, here’s what we’re going to do: I’ll create a distraction to draw her away, while you focus on getting the key. I’ll meet you outside the Restricted Section.” He’d finished, nodding over to the fenced-off area of the Library.

“Wait, why do we need a key? Isn’t there a spell for this?”

Sebastian met Beatrice’s obvious question with an almost sheepish look before answering, “Alohamora? That’s how I always used to get in, but the librarian twigged that I knew the spell and cast an Anti-Alohamora charm on the lock. So now it’s just this key.” Shrugging as he met Beatrice’s troubled look, he quickly tried to alleviate her worries, “But don’t worry. I said I’d get you in, and I always keep my word. Trust me.”

He felt her hand squeeze his back in understanding after he’d assured her, only now noticing that he’d been holding her hand all this while, “You distract; I get the key. Understood.” The way she’d gazed back into his eyes had him quickly pulling his hand away from her, hoping he’d cast his Disillusionment fast enough that she hadn’t noticed the way his face seemingly burned up. Sebastian attributed his racing heart to adrenaline as he quickly searched for a way to lure Scribner away from her desk, focusing on a chair as he quietly murmured Confringo to blow it up into smithereens.

“Is someone there? Is that you, Peeves?”

Now sure to have caught Scribner’s attention, Sebastian hastily drew away from the mess he’d made and anxiously waited for Beatrice by the locked entryway to the Restricted Section, hoping she really was as sneaky as he first observed her to be— “That wasn’t so difficult after all.” He relaxed somewhat upon glimpsing Beatrice’s shimmering silhouette cast in Disillusionment, quickly but quietly unlocking the gate, “Now, to find that book.”

Upon entering, Sebastian curiously observed as Beatrice’s silhouette quickly pilfered through a chest by the corner of the staircase after she’d murmured Revelio, only stopping her when she’d tried to reach for a book on their way down, “That one’s charmed to look more useful than it is. It’s fooled me twice. Never judge a tome by its cover, I say.”

“A tome had floated out of Scribner’s desk when I was getting the key. Thought for a moment it’d scream bloody murder when I saw my name on its page.”

“Ah, that would be the Book of Records, keeps every borrowed book in check— even the Restricted ones. Did you ask it for the title you’re looking for?”

“I actually don’t—"

Sebastian had to interrupt Beatrice as he quickly pulled her back towards him before they rounded the corner on the next floor down, “Ghost. Don’t let her see you.” He’d whispered, only then inadvertently realizing he’d grabbed her by the waist as he tried to get his mind to focus on making a distraction, but Beatrice beat him to it by casting at an armor across the room. He didn’t have time to wince at the noise that might even attract Scribner’s attention from upstairs, because Beatrice had now grabbed him by his hand and was swiftly leading them past the ghosts.

“Should be in the clear now. No need for us to be skulking about.” He’d huffed out a breath as they descended, casting off his Disillusionment before Beatrice followed suit, a dazzling flush evident on her cheeks as she smiled at him with barely contained excitement from their shared rush of adrenaline.

“So… What is it you’ve been looking for?” She’d asked in a hesitant tone as they continued their way down the stairs, seemingly not wanting to prod, but Sebastian had by now expected her to ask him that at one point. He thought on his response though, not wanting to see the usual look of sympathy being cast his way, especially from her who he felt the need to impress…

Waiting after she’d murmured a Revelio upon the section they’d just entered, Sebastian settled on giving her a vague but truthful answer, “I’m looking for a cure to help my twin sister, Anne— so that she can return to Hogwarts. Because Merlin knows everyone else has given up.” He’d waited then to see how she’d respond, dreading she’d only look back at him with pity evident in her green gaze, but instead she’d looked up from her Field Guide to cast him a look of confusion.

“Why do you think you’ll find a cure in the Restricted Section? Does the Hogwarts matron have nothing that can help Anne?” This was a start. She hadn’t dismissed his plight with baseless words of comfort, in fact, she even sounded like she’d taken his words in disbelief as she continued to search the area they were in.

“No. We’ve tried everyone from Nurse Blainey to St. Mungo’s.” He tried to explain, watching with a hint of curiosity as she’d pulled out a jangling pouch of what looked like Galleons from a chest she’d opened, “But I can research on my own. No need to concern yourself with that right now. Let’s focus on what you’re after. Which is what, precisely?” Sebastian pushed the pouch of coins back towards her as she tried to offer it to him in full.

“I’ll know it when I see it.” She’d countered just as vaguely, counting the pouch’s contents before she seemed to pocket a portion of it then insistently pushed the rest into Sebastian’s hands.

“You’re being awfully cryptic.” He’d caved, not wanting to push back but equally just as frustrated, despite having accepted the pouch of coins she’d offered.

All Sebastian could do for now was silently watch over Beatrice as she gleaned pass books, skimming through titles and tapping on the ones he’d assumed might have caught her interest— the latest causing him to raise an eyebrow, “Secrets of the Darkest Arts? I’m impressed.”

He caught himself from saying more though as he carefully eyed Beatrice’s reaction to his comment— half expecting a disapproving look from her— yet she only stared at the tome a second longer, expression unreadable, before moving away. Interesting was one thing, but now Sebastian had to wonder just how open Beatrice was to learning a few darker spells— something told him she’d need it…

Entering a door in the backmost part of the room, Sebastian kept his eyes about, he always thought this area to be just a place of storage for the whole Library, he’d doubt Beatrice would find anything worthwhile here. Though he began to second guess himself after she’d cast another Revelio upon the room, before heading towards what looked to be a chest just inconspicuously placed on a tabletop.

More miniature than the previous ones he’d seen her pilfer through, Sebastian couldn’t help the look of disbelief on his face upon seeing the wand handle Beatrice had pulled out— there illuminated by the nearby desk lamp was a handle that looked to be exactly like his own! “Would you look at that… might just as well be the original piece, don’t you think?” He’d murmured, still not quite sure himself.

“I didn’t think I would take you seriously the first time you mentioned these wand handles back in Hogsmeade, but this is my 4th find, so what are 38 more? Might as well make space for this collection, won’t you agree?” Beatrice’s lighthearted tone only left Sebastian more flabbergasted.

“I’m sorry, did you say 4th? Wherever did you find the previous ones, if I may so ask?”

“I found my 2nd one in a similar chest much like this in Professor Fig’s classroom, though the other two were given more as thanks from Cressida Blume and Zenobia Noke after I’d— well, assisted them in recovering some personal belongings of theirs…” She’d replied almost sheepishly.

Before Sebastian could ask her more about it though, he was quick to pull Beatrice behind him as a nearby hanging armor came crashing beside them. The thunderous clashing of metals was enough to make them hold their breaths as Sebastian waited to expect the worst, their shaky exhales the only thing that could be heard between them. He waited seconds before deciding to cast Reparo but was all too suddenly interrupted by a malignant entity popping through the bookshelf right across from them.

“Who have we here? Sebastian Sallow and his new little friend, out exploring where they shouldn’t be!” Came the shrill voice, mocking them by even waving a finger in front of their faces, “Naughty naughty, you’ll get caughty!”

“Peeves, don’t you—” Sebastian’s voice was merely cut off by the nasty poltergeist’s incessant yammering whilst floating away, “I’m going to tell! I’m going to tell! I’m going to tell!”

“Blasted Peeves. I’ve got to stop him, or at least get to the librarian with a good excuse for all of this.” He grumbled, pulling away from his hold on Beatrice as he was about to hunt down the annoying fiend, when he felt a firm tug on his robe sleeve.

“Wait. I— don’t want you getting into trouble for me.” She’d look at him then, a troubled expression clear on her face as she gazed up at him, seeming unsure. Did she doubt he’d be able to handle this predicament or maybe she was wary that he’ll blame this all on her?

“I have a way with the faculty when it comes to disciplinary matters. Besides— I like having friends who are in my debt.” Sebastian chose to teasingly assuage her on both accounts, “Now, go. Good luck with your search.” He offered her an encouraging smile before turning away, off on a search of his own as he couldn’t help but grumble, “Now, where has that damned poltergeist got to?”

If his memory served him well, Sebastian did hear Peeves boisterously chanting about being trapped and confined in a jar once, and while he might be tempted to do just about that to the poltergeist, Sebastian dreaded the thought that he’d ultimately get expelled from Hogwarts after the chaos it’d most likely cause. He doubted even Ominis could save his hair after that— and although he had an inkling his friend knew where Sebastian was off to again, the sightless blond had absolutely no idea that Sebastian would not be going alone tonight on another trip to the Restricted Section.

Having found it already suspicious that even the couple of screeching ghosts were now gone from their posts on his way up, Sebastian thought it wise to keep himself under his Disillusionment as he maintained a peripheral view of the Library from the upper floor. Choosing to position himself away from The Old Librarian’s portrait, Sebastian crouched by the balustrades’ edge as he mulled over the most effective Silencing Charm he could use on Peeves— he had doubts if Oscausi would work on making an incorporeal being’s mouth disappear, but perhaps a simple Silencio might work—

“Guess who’s in the Restricted Section, asking for another round of detention? Of course, it’s none other than Sebastian Sallow, but can you guess the other fellow?”

Damn. Sebastian watched with growing dread as he saw Peeves finally come out of hiding, trying to catch Scribner’s attention, though since the garishly dressed ghoul was more known for his penchant for causing mischief and mayhem, the old witch hadn’t paid Peeves much mind at first. Thinking fast, Sebastian cast at the nearest object between the Library’s shelves on the lower floor where the poltergeist was weaving through— he needed to stall Peeves there long enough to shut him up.

Swiftly but silently taking the spiral stairs down, Sebastian kept a mocking interval of casting on random objects to make it sound like Peeves was the one causing all the ruckus, while also keeping the poltergeist distracted enough away from Scribner.

“What mess are you causing again now, Peeves?!” Scribner’s shriek sounded close enough that it jolted his focus from his Disillusionment and caused Sebastian to miss casting the Silencing Charm on the poltergeist by a mere good millimeter, which only resulted with Peeves weaving around him mockingly before—

“Sneaking in the Restricted Section— again!” Scribner now shrieked from behind Sebastian as he turned to face her, “I had thought we were through with this mischief. Clearly detentions are insufficient. I’m afraid I must take this to the Headmaster.”

Sebastian felt his blood chill then, about to make her see reason, “But—”

“That being said, Peeves informs me that you didn’t come alone tonight.” Scribner interrupted him, not wanting to hear any more excuses as she set a piercing look on her weathered face, “If someone has coerced you, I would have you tell me.”

For a moment, Sebastian glared at Peeves’ gloating smile before trying to meet the Madam’s stare, though he quickly had to look down in fear that she might notice his worried expression wasn’t exactly for himself but for someone else’s safety…

“You’re a bright boy. Don’t waste this.”

He remembered Beatrice’s almost searching gaze as she looked up at him, unsure, before they’d parted ways. Sebastian just realized what had crossed her mind then, but he now knew how he was going to answer if he was planning to win Beatrice’s trust. “There was nobody else. I came alone.” He’d met Scribner’s gaze then, straightening his shoulders as his voice answered with clear certainty.

“Oh, Sebastian.” The expected look of disappointed on her face came as no surprise to Sebastian as she tutted at him, “What will your uncle say?” The mention of his uncle as Scribner walked away made dread settle in the pit of his stomach, enough to not even care as Peeves blew a raspberry to his face.

Just as he was about to follow the librarian out to be escorted by the Prefects back to his Common Room though, Sebastian spotted the telltale flutter of cobalt blue robes moving away from a lower bookcase. He was glad to know Beatrice would get out of here safe, especially is she used the Library’s Floo Flame back to her tower, Sebastian just hoped she didn’t get into more trouble after this…

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : –. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧

next chapter ⤜⤏

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy oc #hl mc #hl oc #beatrice hayes #hogwarts legacy characters #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow #andrew larson #hogwarts legacy andrew larson #sebastian x mc x ominis #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy fanfic #writing in progress

[girlbosswar]

ROUND 2 MASTERLIST

I apologize for the wait

Here are the round 2 matchups

SIDE ONE

Sharpay Evans (High School Musical) Vs. Queen (deltarune)

Reko Yabusame (Your Turn To Die -Death Game By Majority-) Vs. Sunset Shimmer (My Little Pony: Equestria Girls)

Megaera (Hades) Vs. Agent 8 (Splatoon 2: Octo Expansion)

Amy Rose (Sonic the Hedgehog CD) Vs. Maya Fey (Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney)

Morganthe (Wizard 101) Vs. The Administrator (Team Fortress 2)

Audria Rose (Descendants) Vs. Motoko Kusanagi (Ghost in the Shell)

Toriel (UNDERTALE) Vs. Aspheera (Ninjago)

Sara Chidouin (Your Turn To Die -Death Game By Majority-) Vs. Callie (Splatoon)

Marina (Splatoon 2) Vs. Jolyne Cujoh (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure)

Ema Skye (Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney) Vs. Daisy (Super Mario Land)

Nyota Uhura (Star Trek) Vs. Regina George (Mean Girls)

Olivier Mira Armstrong (Fullmetal Alchemist) Vs. Lady Iron Fan (Monkie Kid)

Hornet (Hollow Night) Vs. Franziska von Karma (Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Justice for All)

Eleanor Shellstrop (The Good Place) Vs. Buffy Anne Summers (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

Gertrude Robinson (The Magnus Archives) Vs. April O’Neil (ROTTMNT)

Princess Carolyn (Bojack Horseman) Vs. Madoka Kaname (Puella Magi Madoka Magica)

Reagan Ridley (Inside Job) Vs. P.I.X.A.L (Ninjago)

Monika (Doki Doki Literature Club) Vs. Korra (The Legend of Korra)

Bulma (Dragon Ball) Vs. Lady Macbeth (Macbeth)

Susie (deltarune) Vs. Fairy Godmother (Shrek 2)

Rumi Usagiyama (My Hero Academia) Vs. Lauren Mallard (Welcome to Night Vale)

Bayonetta (Bayonetta) Vs. Azula (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Frye (Splatoon 3) Vs. Ann Takamaki (Persona 5)

GLaDOS (Portal) Vs. Kyoko Sakura (Puella Magi Madoka Magica)

Marina (OMORI) Vs. Clawdeen Wolf (Monster High)

Alcina Dimitrescu (Resident Evil) Vs. Miss Piggy (The Muppets)

Lord Dominator (Wander Over Yonder) & Homura Akemi (Puella Magi Madoka Magica) Vs. Aradia Megido (Homestuck)

Dahlia Hawthorne (Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Trials and Tribulations) Vs. Lucina (Fire Emblem)

Marie (Splatoon) Vs. Toph Beifong (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

SIDE TWO

Hatsune Miku (Vocaloid) Vs. Solar Flare (Plants vs. Zombies)

Mia Fey (Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney) Vs. Agent 3 (Splatoon)

Isabelle (Animal Crossing: New Leaf) Vs. Tabitha Chrysanthemum Scarlet (Scarlet Hollow)

Astrid Hofferson (How To Train Your Dragon) Vs. Athena Cykes (Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Dual Destinies)

Rapunzel (Tangled) Vs. Nami (One Piece)

Nadja (What We Do in the Shadows) Vs. Bridget (Guilty Gear)

Vriska Serket (Homestuck) Vs. Yosano Akiko (Bungo Stray Dogs)

Celestia Ludenberg (Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc) Vs. Helen Richardson (The Magnus Archives)

Akane Kurushiki (Zero Escape: 9 Hours 9 Persons 9 Doors) Vs. Clementine (Stray)

Nancy Wheeler (Stranger Things) Vs. Annabeth Chase (Heroes of Olympus)

Jinx (League of Legends/The Arcana) Vs. Lotus (Zero Escape: 9 Hours 9 Persons 9 Doors)

Yang Xiao Long (RWBY) Vs. Kitty Softpaws (Puss and Boots)

Boss (AI: The Somnium Files) Vs. Coco Adel (RWBY)

Harumi (Ninjago) Vs. Lady with an Ermine (Leonardo da Vinci)

Edalyn Clawthorne (The Owl House) Vs. Darling Charming (Ever After High)

Pearl (Splatoon 2) Vs. Carmelita Montoya Fox (Sly Cooper)

Vex’ahlia (Critical Role) Vs. Queen (Chess)

Lup (The Adventure Zone) Vs. Sweetheart (OMORI)

Sister Beatrice (Warrior Nun) Vs. Katara (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Samus Aran (Metroid) Vs. Clover (Zero Escape: 9 Hours 9 Persons 9 Doors)

Jessie (Pokémon) Vs. Fiona (Shrek)

Dana Cardinal (Welcome to Night Vale) Vs. Rose Lalonde (Homestuck)

Nadia Vulvokov (Russian Doll) Vs. Lucille Sharpe (Crimson Peak)

Undyne (UNDERTALE) Vs. Ryūko Matoi (Kill la Kill)

Mari (OMORI) Vs. Rosalina (Super Mario Galaxy)

Weiss Schnee (RWBY) Vs. Elizabert Megafig (Bugsnax)

Cleo de Nile (Monster High) Vs. Skylor Chen (Ninjago)

Barbie (Barbie) Vs. Cynthia (Pokémon Diamond/Pearl)

[marzipanandminutiae]

Who's Rosemary? I wanna hear about that OC!

I mean, hey, give me half an excuse...

Rosemary is the youngest child of Beatrice Sharpe's youngest sister (Beatrice being, canonically, the oldest of Several). She's eight years old in 1902, and her parents and three older brothers died tragically a few weeks ago when an unknown party poisoned their soup. Rosemary, having been sent to bed without supper, was spared- something the old aunt who looked after her during the inquiry proclaimed an absolute miracle.

("First poor Beatrice's youngest, and now you. That's a nephew and a niece I've seen through foul murder. If ever a family were marked for tragedy...") (Poor Beatrice's eldest does not rate a mention.)

But she must have a more permanent home, with someone younger and stronger who can care for a child. How kind of her grown-up cousins to take her into their grand country-house sight unseen! They wrote, you see. She's just misplaced the letter.

Upon her arrival at the front steps of Allerdale Hall, after barely a moment's pause, her cousin Lucille thanks the constable for seeing her here safely and ushers her inside. She doesn't yet know that no child with tattered clothes and fading bruises would have been turned away, even without the letter from their mother to hers that she's clutching like a protective talisman.

The tall man, she guesses must be cousin Thomas. An explanation of the little blonde lady will have to wait, as she's bustled upstairs for a hot bath and something more substantial to wear. Little girls can recieve proper introductions- and explain the murder they absolutely committed, no doubt in any of the Sharpes' minds -once they're wrapped in a warm dressing-gown with a nice bracing cup of tea.

other tidbits about her include:

Rosemary was not her name Before. she chose it herself. her three parents do not know or want to know what her birth family called her, and they picked a middle name for her at her request (Diana)

she falls in love with clockwork and Making Things, becoming Thomas' extremely eager workshop assistant. all her parents, of course, lavish her somewhat haphazard creations with praise. or, you know, as close as Lucille comes to any emotive display that could be called "lavishing"

Lucille is actually the best at the practical realities of child-rearing, of the three adults. after all, she's the only one with experience- even if she was a child herself at the time

left alone with a child, Thomas would be the babysitter kids love and parents hate, who lets them stay up until midnight and eat ice cream for dinner because saying "no" is hard and they're just so cute! Edith is very Oh God How Parent? at first- she expected children, but in the nebulous Future, not right now -but realizing kids are just Small Inexperienced People helps considerably

would the Sharpes be good parents to a normal child, beyond the basic Keep Kid Alive practicalities? probably not. but Rosemary wouldn't get on too well with normal parents, either. so while things aren't perfect, it evens out

Rosemary Loves Dante (the dog, who is NOT dead). Dante Loves Rosemary. this is adorable. you agree.

tl;dr- Crimson Peak OT3 kidfic, ft. the Sharpe siblings' distant cousin who pulled a Merricat on her abusive family. I may never formally write her into a story, but I love to Rotate her (as my friends can attest)

#ask #anon #OC #fanfic #kidfic #child abuse mention #people definitely don't come to this fandom for that sort of content which makes me less likely to write her for real #but I love her so much #I love that she represents a chance for characters to be the saviors they needed as children but never had #I love her for herself- tiny nerd murderess slowly learning how to be A Child and feel safe and loved

[phantomoftheparadise0002]

Time to sum up my fave doug monsters and creatures✨

Baron afanas

Saru

The amphibian man

The angel of death

The silver surfer

Abe sapien

Edith's mother

Lady beatrice sharpe

Gentleman

Thin clown

La gueule

Mac tonight

Carl

The thrickster

Billy butcherson

El fauno

The pale man

The bye bye man

At least the ones i know so far and in make-up. I will make a list with human characters as well at some point.

[fucked-up-character-tournament]

Tentative list for best horror and thriller girls:

1. Maria from Mad Father

2. Reiko Mikami from Another

3. Bridget, from the webtoon Nonesuch,

4. Ha-Im, from webtoon Never-ending Darling.

5. Riot Maidstone (from Hello From The Hallowoods),

6. Martha from Ravenous 1999

7. Grace, from Ready or Not (2019).

8. Regan Abbott (A Quiet Place)

9. Ava (Ex Machina)

10. Beatrice (Over the Garden Wall)

11. Jennifer from Jennifer’s Body

12. Rozy from the guy upstairs

13. Rachel (Rachel Rising comic book series)

14. Amanda Young, SAW,

15. Wendy Torrance, “The Shining” movie

16. Pannochka - Viy

17. Blind Mag (Repo! The Genetic Opera)

18. Sasha from the magnus archives

19. Mina Harker (Dracula

20. Lex Foster from Black Friday.

21. Charlotte from Hello Charlotte!

22. Carrie White, Carrie

23. Scarlet, I’m the Grim Reaper

24. So Jung-hwa, Strangers from Hell

25. Dana Scully, The X Files

26. Akane Tsunemori, Psycho Pass

27. Mima Kirigoe, Perfect Blue

28. Nina Fortner, Monster

29. Eva Heinemann, Monster

30. Edith Cushing, Crimson Peak

31. Lucille Sharpe, Crimson Peak

32. Ellen Ripley, Alien

33. Clarice Starling, Silence of the Lambs

34. Lisa Reisert, Red Eye

35. Laurie Strode, Halloween

36. Kayo Hinazuki, Erased

37. Hondomachi, ID Invaded

38. Yonaka Kurai, Mogeko Castle

39. Ib, IB

40. Re-L Mayer, Ergo Proxy

41. Kyun Yoon, Bastard

42. Jisu, Sweet Home

43. Lauren Sinclair, Purple Hyacinth

44. Nita, Market of Monsters series

45. Rose the Hat from Doctor Sleep (2019 movie and Stephen King book)

46. Sidney Prescott from the original Scream movies,

47. Jade Daniels, Indian Lake Trilogy/My Heart is a chainsaw by Stephen Graham Jones

48. Villanelle, killing eve

49. Harrow from gideon the ninth/Locked Tomb

50. Maggie, Everything is Fine

51. Chaerin Eun, Surviving Romance

52. Finn, I’m Dating a Psychopath

53. Rayne Liebert, Homesick

54. Ha-im Yun, Never Ending Darling

55. Ashlyn Banner, School Bus Graveyard

56. Chae-ah Han, Trapped

57. Jeongmin Choi, Dreaming Freedom

58. Frankie, Stagtown

59. India Stoker, Stoker

60. Nam-ra, All of Us Are Dead

61. Ji-woo, My Name

62. Nanno, Girl From Nowhere

63. Emerald, Nope

64. Jessica Jones

65. Susy, Wait Until Dark

66. Margot, The Menu

67. Vera, Just Like Home

68. Rosemary, Rosemary’s Baby

69. Gertrude Robinson, The Magnus Archives

70. Alex, Oxenfree

71. Margaret Lanternman/The Log Lady, Twin Peaks,

72. Audrey Horne, Twin Peaks,

73. Su-an, Train to Busan

74. Ji-a, Tale of the Nine Tailed

75. Cha Ji-won, Flower of Evil

76. Coraline

77. Helen Lyle, Candyman

78. Nancy, Nightmare on Elm Street

79. Mrs. De Winter, Rebecca

80. Mrs. Danvers, Rebecca

81. Shiki Ryougi, Garden of Sinners

82. Kirsty Cotton, Hellraiser

83. Pearl, Pearl

84. Take-ju, Thirst

85. Suzy Bannion, Suspiria

86. Lain, Serial Experiments Lain

87. Asami Yamazaki, Audition

88. Naru, Prey

89. Eli, Let the Right One In

90. The Girl, A Girl walks home alone at night

91. Cecilia, Immaculate

92. Evie Alexander, The Invitation

93. Maren, Bones and All

94. Michelle, 10 Cloverfield Lane

95. Thomasin, The VVitch

96. Emma, None Shall Sleep

97. Contestanta, A Dowry of Blood

98. Brigid O’Shaughnessy, Maltese Falcon

99. Sandra Voyter, Anatomy of a Fall

100. Lisa, Rear Window

#polls

[toxic-mothers-tourney]

Round one winners

Your Mom (real life) vs. Mary Keay (The Magnus Archives)

Odalia Blight (The Owl House) vs. Marisa Coulter (His Dark Materials)

Naomi Bunch (Crazy Ex-Girlfriend) vs. Alice Smith/Cooper (Riverdale)

Kikyo Zoldyck (Hunter x Hunter) *opponent disqualified*

Mother Gothel (Tangled) vs. Zira (Lion King 2)

Cersei Lannister (ASOIAF/GOT) vs. Caroline Collingwood (Succession)

Morgan Fey (Ace Attorney) vs. Pelleamena Novenarius (The Locked Tomb)

Other Mother (Coraline) vs. Margaret White (Carrie)

Mrs. Asahina/Mafuyu's mom (Project Sekai: Colorful Stage) vs. Shadow Weaver (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)

Rosa Ushiromiya (Umineko no Naku Koro ni) vs. Cora Mills (Once Upon a Time)

Yu Ziyuan/Madame Yu (MDZS/CQL) vs. Rainflower (Warriors)

Lucille Bluth (Arrested Development) vs. Adora Crellin (Sharp Objects)

Lusamine (Pokemon) vs. Lady Tremaine (Cinderella)

Fleabag's Godmother (Fleabag) vs. Dorothy Walker (Jessica Jones)

Beatrice Horseman (Bojack Horseman) vs. Elnora Samaya/Prospera Mercury (Mobile Suit Gundam: the Witch from Mercury)

Medusa Gorgon (Soul Eater) vs. Fairy Godmother (Shrek 2)

Most polls had a large margin of victory! I expect a tighter race for round two. Stay tuned!

#winners #round 1 #I am bitterly mourning myu's loss. those cats are powerful opponents

[forfamily]

the famiglia.

dario zeppeli. 81. 6'2". likes cat naps in the sun, a strong coffee, and his wife's smile. dislikes slackers, pickles, and modern architecture. former don of the zeppeli family; still commands great respect. not as scary as you think he is once you get to know him. hamon user.

beatrice zeppeli. 79. 5'5". likes afternoon tea, playing the piano, and the opera. dislikes messiness, unnecessary violence, and sour foods. the wife of dario; some claim she was the true power behind the scenes during her husband's reign. a kind, strong woman. a master sharp shooter.

dante zeppeli. 39. 6'2". likes dogs, sleeping, and when the day is relatively stress-free ( it is, in fact, never stress-free). dislikes fucking paperwork, incompetence, and when someone takes a romantic interest in his cousin. the son of dario's younger sister, giada. the current underboss and the one bianca trusts the most in the world (next to her grandparents). hamon user.

vincent galilei. 60. 6'3". dario's consigliere, now bianca's. knows the law inside out and backward (in italy and other countries). cool under pressure. manages all of zeppeli's legal financial interests. stand user.

tommaso "tommy" granita. 24. 5'11". enjoys chess and mathematics. capo of chiaia. rumored to be related to the zeppeli's consigliere but nothing is confirmed. hamon user.

tira "titi" misu. 23. 5'5". capo of san ferdinando. likes collecting earrings. enjoys tea at the end of a long day. originally worked at one of zeppeli's brothels; intervened during an assassination attempt while the don was visiting nd saved bianca's life. stand user.

giotto "toto" panetone. 29. 5'10". collects keyboards. capo of arenella and the intelligence squad. the watchers and gatherers. this squad knows things before the government does and knows things the government wishes they didn't. stand user.

petrarca "pet" affogato. 25. 6'. capo of vomero. a true playboy and lady's man who enjoys collecting perfume. he and leo have beef, much to bianca's dismay. hamon user.

donatello "dona" ricotti. 31. 5'11". capo of pianura and search and recovery. when there seems to be no hope or the government fails to find a missing (or stolen) loved one, sometimes one needs those who can move where the police cannot or aren't willing to. often partners with the intelligence squad. stand user.

michelangelo "mich" pomodori. 28. 6'1". a self-proclaimed foodie. capo of soccavo and the demolition squad. the heavy hitters, when brawn is needed above everything else... or a good distraction. stand user.

raphael "raph" scacci. 30. 6' capo of Bagnoli and the assassination squad. a group who moves in the shadows of napoli. once bianca issues a hit, the target is already dead; it's just a matter of when they stop breathing. stand user.

leonardo "leo" panello. 34. 6'2". capo of fuorigrotta. enjoys fast cars and going for long rides when he can; he also enjoys building model cars. has a low tolerance for bullshit. may or may not have a thing for the boss and dislikes when petrarca (attempts) to flirt with bianca. hamon user.

#;headcanons #;the zeppeli famiglia #i'll probably come back later to add more to this as I flesh them out #but here are the basics

[missyourflight]

some stuff i read and watched in july:

somebody somewhere (s1 & 2): fucking loved this!! about going home again, queer community in a small town, belting, a fat woman who Fucks

the bear (s2): yes chef obvs, fishes into forks is just unbearably good

the sixth commandment: heartbreaking stuff - like an attempt at true crime storytelling with humanity and empathy and like a sense of love surrounding the victims? interesting to think about with penance

jaws: for the first time somehow?? obviously it's fantastic 🦈

return to seoul: love a story about a chaotic unmoored girl, great lipstick

nimona: RIZ AHMED FOREVER

oppenheimer: christopher nolan still can't write a woman and likely never will but in General i loved this!! some of us have been cillian murphy hive since the early 00s and own the way we live now feat. wambsgams macfadyen on dvd etc, is it not enough to see his beautiful face, large, how is the trinity test sequence so tense when you Know what's going to happen, full circle since seeing pearl harbour in the cinema in 2001 for josh hartnett reasons etc

barbie: extremely extremely fun if i didn't love its feminism always, very glad i saw this greta/letterboxd bit before so i could eye all the influences, ryan gosling is On One and it's wonderful

no hard feelings: i feel like someone (@powerful-owl??) was writing maxiel no hard feelings tumblr fic and having now seen the film i am in Need of it

naoise dolan, exciting times: read this and immediately pressed it on my sister; the hk specificity is for her, the queer stuff is for me

eve babitz, slow days, fast company: i have never been to california and i only want to go to eve's LA

eliza clark, penance: really smart sharp take on the industrial true crime complex etc, chucking brexit and folk horror and the seaside and excruciatingly accurate tumblr representation at it and making everything work. i keep turning it over together with the sixth commandment and death of a bookseller

greg doran, my shakespeare: a director's journey through the first folio: theatrical memoirs def one of my fave sub-genres, i loved spending this bit of time sinking into these plays again and hearing about all the different productions (harriet walter beatrice my lady wife etc)

#monthly media #sophposting

[onwesterlywinds]

PROMPT #9: Yawn

A shame, thought Hrjt, that summer had come and gone so quickly. She had meant to pay another visit to Valnain, maybe spend a bit longer in Dalmasca. In truth, a strange and almost unfamiliar melancholy had compelled her to remain along her beach.

Only when the equinox came did she recognize that mood for what it was: a premonition of something, someone, stirring in the void.

The first of the voidsent soldiers emerged in the early morning, while she was scouring the ocean for kelp. She was dangerously close to a rip current - a glassy surface where there should otherwise be churning waves. How far it would pull her out to sea, she did not know, but she did not have her staff to avail her.

The voidgate opened above her head, yawning wide for a single moment, and spat out a vodoriga. It writhed for a moment in the salted spray but righted itself in time to avoid hitting the water, and it needed but a moment to lock eyes with its quarry: her.

She took as deep of a breath as she could and dove under, not knowing if vodorigas, being of the ninth rung of voidsent hierarchy, were as averse to running water as many of their other lower-ranked brethren. There was too much silt in the water, a gift from the river nearby, for her to track her progress back to land. A sharp line of pain tore across the bottom of her foot and she recoiled, thinking the creature had her in its grasp, only for her foot to touch another sharp rock covered in algae.

The ebbing tide had pulled her a little too far south from her camp. With the last dregs of strength from the meager breath she'd taken, she kicked with all her might until her knees at last touched smooth sand, and the water was still clouded but not half as dark. She stumbled naked from the water, threw back her head of wet hair, and raised her arms to cast something to freeze her pursuer in place.

The words died on her lips, as the vodoriga was nowhere in sight.

"What..." she breathed. Sure enough, she could not sense the faintest hint of its presence anywhere, nor that of the voidgate that had been its entryway into the Source. It was as if neither had ever existed, though of course it had: Hrjt had been mistaken of a great many things in her life, but her intuition never failed her where the void was concerned.

And she had seen the single-minded purpose in the vodoriga's black eyes.

The arioch came next, later that evening, as the sun was setting earlier than ever. Despite its overwhelming presence and prodigious size, she dispelled it easily with a bolt of lightning; the cloud cover overhead provided enough static to add some power to her cast. The arioch shrieked and fell out of the sky, but before it could hit the sand with a force that would surely break it, its voidgate reappeared beneath it to swallow it whole - and both blinked out of existence.

Hrjt had studied the void and its workings for her entire adult life, yet never had she seen gates move as if of their own accord. The closest possibility that came to mind was the magicks by which some Garleans bound themselves to voidsent, with many taking advantage of that power to traverse distances in the blink of an eye - but to play with entire voidgates necessitated a much stronger power, and its wielder coming from the Thirteenth.

The last of the voidsent pursuers confirmed that theory with no room for doubt. In the dead of night, on a new moon with clouds to blot out the stars, the hum and whirl of another voidgate roused Hrjt from her sleep.

"Queen Beatrice seeks the broken one," came an eerie voice. The name triggered in Hrjt a long-dormant memory of solitude, of discovery. "Who are you, broken one? Who are you, that you should command my lady's attention?"

Her soul was surely as bright as a beacon to the creature, whatever they were - and their words confirmed that they were after her. She reached for her staff and summoned from it an orb of flame, bright and bold enough to illuminate her surroundings for a few yalms all around.

A giant insect leg came into view, then another; where they met was a nude, inverted torso with an all too beautiful face and long hair trailing down to the dark sand below. This was no mere servant: this time, Beatrice had sent a fellow voidsent noble to deal with her.

"I do not know," Hrjt replied. "But tell your queen I will suffer her interruptions no longer."

The creature let out a hoarse, rattling laugh, like the facsimile of a lady's amusement. "Just as she would have it, for she bids you join her. Rejoice, sweet mortal - you are to become one with the Queen of Troia herself!"

Hrjt loosed the fireball, but the voidsent dodged it easily with a single lift of their long, thin leg. They jumped into the air, impossibly high in the renewed darkness, and Hrjt only knew they landed when they sent a curtain of wet sand scattering in all directions. She spat it from her mouth and tried again, anticipating this time that the voidsent would seek to evade, and then to close in.

Just as the voidsent noble leaned in with its body to spear her in their array of sharp spines, Hrjt conjured another burst of flame. They screamed in agony as their white skin began to blister.

"Please, my lady!" she screamed. "Call me back, it burns, it-!"

Once more, the creature disappeared. Only the thin lines of insect legs traced through the sand left any indication that a being of great power had been there only moments ago.

Hrjt threw her arms wide and shouted up at the nighttime sky. "COME AND FIND ME YOURSELF, BEATRICE!" she called. "COME AND TAKE WHAT YOU ARE OWED!"

Far off to windward, toward the Ridorana Lighthouse, a bolt of lightning streaked through the sky, as if to mark her challenge.

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