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its-moopoint · 1 year

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Weekend debate between sane and delusional OL fans. 🤪

Anonymous asked:

But what if they’re not hiding 5 children? That’s a lot to accuse them of based solely on how a woman looks in some photographs.

odessa-2

Oh but they are.

gabysachs

Based on the evidence that we've been seen for years it is certain that there is more than a child, at least 3 or 4 but not 5.

caligirl22

Where exactly are they hiding these five children? In a closet? A dungeon? Do the kids go to school? Has everyone who’s ever seen them been paid off? Have they never left wherever they’re being kept, like some sort of Scottish Flowers in the Attic type situation? LMAO. There’s zero evidence these children exist except in the fevered brains of people who can’t accept that two actors they like aren’t together in real life. It’s mentally deranged at this point. You should all seek help.

shoutlandish

@caligirl22 I won’t call you names and curse you with insults like you just did, but I will say that if you can’t see from the abundant visual evidence that C has been pregnant multiple times since 2016, then you don’t want to see it.

caligirl22

So I ask you again. If they have all these children, where are they? You all constantly claim they have multiple kids and then never expand on that. Where do these kids live? Why has no one ever seen them? Are they all homeschooled to keep their existence a secret? Do none of them have any friends and friends parents who know they exist and therefore must all be paid off not to reveal it? I’m not the one not seeing the truth. But please, answer my questions. Where are they all?

shoutlandish

@caligirl22 We never see Tony bopping around Glasgow, either. We don’t see photos of him or hear gossip about him, with or without Cait. So I guess that means he doesn’t live there with Cait. I don’t know where Cait & Sam are. I can only imagine that they are living a normal and quiet life in Scotland somewhere where nobody cares what we think about them.

caligirl22

There are lots of pictures of Tony. He’s also not a celebrity, so people aren’t trying to catch him on camera. Your claim is that five children exist and yet somehow have never been seen with their parents. Why won’t you answer my questions? Where do they live? The eldest ones you claim exist are definitely school age. Do they not go?

shoutlandish

@caligirl22 I have not seen photos of the children in Scotland, nor in LA. I doubt there are any paparazzi who would bother seeking any. I don’t think such photos would sell. In Scotland they’re not celebrities; they’re just a regular family, and they live like natives, I suppose. It’s actually a great place to live away from the spotlight. Anyway, I don’t need to see them to know that they exist because I have recognized Caitriona’s pregnancies.

caligirl22

So your argument is that Sam Heughan, a man who’s instantly spotted by the fandom everywhere he goes, is out and about with his five children all the time in Scotland but no one just ever takes a picture? Lol. Okay. There’s something wrong with you all for insisting a women gave birth five times when you have zero evidence of it, except for the fact that you long for it to be true. It’s sad actually. Your need to believe it broke your brains.

shoutlandish

@caligirl22 I think it’s sadder that you believe outrageous lies without ever questioning any of it. What you take as gospel my brain perceives as utter nonsense. However, I am not hostile toward you over your lack of observation and critical thinking skills. I just shake my head, let it go, and move on. Try it.

poughkeepsielass

@shoutlandish You’re a better woman than I am to bother arguing with her. The B* is now blocked.

caligirl22

I have. Lots of times. After I discovered the show fairly recently, I was shocked to discover there are so many nuts out there who believe - with zero evidence - that they’re married with five secret kids who have somehow magically never been spotted anywhere. But Sam and Cait seem like good people and I just got sick of you all being so awful to them & especially for Cait, lying that she’s not married and her child is Sam’s. That’s awful, hateful behavior to display towards anyone.

shoutlandish

@caligirl22 Ah, well, you are new. That explains a lot. Stick around. Follow lots of blogs here (not the haters, though; they’re too upsetting); eventually you will see the evidence that has accumulated over the years. There’s a ton. I’ve seen it all.

caligirl22

I wouldn’t consider two years new. I just haven’t been living my life around the fact that two actors have secretly hidden 5 human beings for nine plus years like you all. No, there’s no evidence. There’s things you all claim is evidence because you want to believe it so badly. But actual evidence? There’s zero. I just find it amazing that you’re all so awful that you don’t even feel a tiny bit bad about crapping on their real partners and kids like this, but it shows your true colors.

emel98

A man with father issues who plays a dedicated father for almost a decade is accused of hiding his paternity for the sake of fame and female following and tptb decision. Hmmmmm. Likely no.

shoutlandish

@emel98 If there is a birth certificate it would be all over Tumblr. Quit deliberately misleading people. If you can’t support your beliefs with concrete evidence or even some logic, then go away.

onsotel67

@caligirl22 I’ve been around since June 2022. Never in my life have I seen such a pile of circumstantial shit. I support your questions completely. There is no evidence to support these horrific rumours and attacks on 2 exceptional actors and people, and their families and friends. I decided to come here to find out what the fuss was about. Oh my word! Did I find a labyrinth of twisted minds, photoshopped images, blurry and nondescript evidence.

caligirl22

@onsotel67 Thank you! It’s honestly the craziest thing I’ve ever seen! Besides the fact that no one can hide five kids, Starz would be literally beside themselves with joy if they were a real life couple. The marketing opportunities and eyes that would bring their show! They would never forbid them to be together, even if they could, which they cannot. People claiming that are ridiculous. The ones lying about them aren’t fans, they’re just nuts who need something else in their lives.

caligirl22

@shoutlandish So you literally only follow people who confirm the beliefs you already hold and tell you what you want to hear and that’s your “evidence?” Come on now. If there was actual evidence, you’d be able to show something concrete. You can’t. Not one single actual thing proving they’re together and have kids. Because it’s all made up nonsense by people who can’t accept that a TV couple isn’t together in real life. People who attack their real life partners. It’s gross.

bellajustbella

I have seen a photo was on Instagram very briefly. Around the time of the infamous wedding. It was of Cait supervising a little girl on a trampoline. It was posted by the owner of an air’b’n’b in Spain welcoming Cait, Sam and their family to her property. No I didn’t take a screenshot. I was new to IG at the time and was in total shock at what I saw. It was one of a few separate photos. They were there one minute, gone the next. But I KNOW what I saw.

caligirl22

@shoutlandish So you’re arguing both that if there was a birth certificate it would be all over the internet while ALSO arguing that the birth certificates for five children Sam and Cait had together have never been found. Do you hear how little that makes sense? You’re the one making stuff up & misleading people. Take your own advice. If you can’t show concrete evidence or logic, stop lying about things.

wildfernflower

@caligirl22 Putting aside children, in fact there are at least a couple of reasons why STARZ (and SC themselves, too) would want at all costs to keep their RL relationship secret.

caligirl22

@wildfernflower Okay, leaving aside the fake kids, even though most of the people here insist they have multiple ones, Starz would absolutely not want to keep it a secret. It would literally be their best way to promo the show ever. They would have zero problem with it. They also have no control over it. Actors aren’t indentured servants. If they wanted to date, they could & Starz would take advantage of that & milk it for all it’s worth. It’s PR 101.

snowy-winter-11

@caligirl22 I understand what you think but i also came here because they were so many receipts live ones that i saw myself i had to see them. But I don't think there’s 5 no woman has 5 kids these days but i think 3 they seems to say 3 a lot… either SC are playing fan intensely or they can’t help themselves slipping stuff. S is the worst. Anyway think about it if ppl knew they were together the credibility they wouldn’t have for OL. If not together they had or have something to much interest between those 2!

langy60

@caligirl22 You say we are "mentally deranged" but your rant points the finger directly at you ! Just because we shippers don't think as you do DOES NOT make us deranged!! There is an abundance of evidence from 2014 that says Cait and Sam are together and that there are children. I don't believe there are 5 but definitely more than two Snooping around on here will do your beliefs no good it will only lead to disappointment. All snoopers like you are BLOCKED 🚫

Oh poor poor newbie trying to reason with the nutcake part of the fandom.

This new fan calls out all shipper lies, they don't reply to any of her questions and points out their hypocrisy lying about T being pictured with C.

Also Laughing my Ass off at the one trying to pass off the Instagram bullshit from Mallorca's troll as true. Just because there's a brunette in a picture it doesn't make her Cait. These folks don't get tired of lying.

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shyanshippingsociety · 2 years

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Shyan Shipping Society Mod Fic Rec List - August 2022

hello and welcome to the august fic rec list! your mods ve, shade, cerys, juice, rowan, and nicole have gathered some of our favorite fics (and commentary) for your reading pleasure! enjoy!

Ve:

Modus Broperandi by strawberrymilano | E, 28K, complete

Shane’s never had a bro bone in his body. Except, lately… Lately, whenever he sees a bro, he falls into natural bro behavior.

It’s an out-of-body experience.

Ghost!Ryan AU.

I'll be upon you by the moonlight side by drunkkenobi | E, 22K, complete

“It’s weird, you know.”

“Weird” wasn’t the word Shane would’ve used. Terrifying, scary, awful, upsetting, grotesque, sure, but weird? Not high on his list.

“What do you mean?”

“Just that Sara would get bit by a wolf on a full moon.”

“Ryan.”

Shade:

hey boy, take a look at me by weakspots | E, 17K, complete

Ryan is 27, for Christ’s sake, and he’s not exactly hideous, so there’s really no reason to spend his money on a dude — a dude — whose face he’ll never see but whose livestreams he’s been jerking off to for roughly 4 months now. He should be going out and partying and fucking random chicks. Or a guy, whatever, just to get it out of his system and confirm to himself that he really is 100% straight.

Because he is. This is morbid curiosity, if anything.

Teacher's Pet by chapscher | E, 24K, complete

“You aren’t describing a teacher’s pet! You’re describing… I don't know the name for it. Someone who tries to seduce their teacher so they can get a better grade.” “Isn’t that a teacher’s pet?” “No!” _ Ryan is tired of losing every episode of Puppet History and asks Shane to tutor him. Shane obliges and tries to keep the tutoring session on track even as they distract each other.

Cerys:

The Hierophant by carrieonfighting | T, 94K, complete

“So kids, for the last week, we’ve been discussing the fundamentals of duelling.” Shane lounged easily against his desk, robes hanging open haphazardly. Ryan snorted to himself, sitting at the back of the huge room, and he saw Shane’s ear twitch.

“So today, now that I have a partner, it seems like a fantastic time to demonstrate!” He announced. It was Ryan’s turn to twitch. “Professor Bergara is your new Divination teacher, he’ll be starting his classes after the weekend. Please stand up, Professor.”

“E-excuse me?” Ryan said, turning terribly red.

In which Ryan sees the future and moves to Scotland, meets his hero and isn't impressed, hears strange noises in the night, and interrogates some ghosts. After all these years, the castle still keeps its secrets.

A Gentleman of Spirit by breathtaken | E, 21K, complete

Newly impoverished and grieving the loss of his father, Mr Shane Madej is only attending Lady Bergara’s ball at Walcot Hall so that he can write an anonymous report on it for one of the gossip columns. He isn’t expecting to find the Baronet of Walcot’s eldest son – as rich and handsome as he is eccentric – attempting to contact a spirit behind the coach house; he certainly isn’t expecting to fall in love.

Juice:

Do I have a crush? by Dippingmytoesindreams | T, 2K, complete

No, he does not. AKA, Buzzfeed Violet’s Crush series, but make it shyan

Oh, Ryan by VictoriaAGrey | T, 10K, complete

Ryan thinks the holiday season is going to be a predictable affair until Ned calls in a two year old debt Ryan owes him. Honoring that two year old debt sets into motion an avalanche of bad decisions and miscommunications that land Ryan at his parent's house on Christmas Day with a baby and a best friend pretending to be his boyfriend.

Did he also mention Shane's living with him?

Rowan:

tender violet blue by 2many2spirits | E, 7K, complete

“Why’d you do it this time?”

“You asked,” Shane says with a shrug, and the enormity of the statement hits Ryan in the chest with a two-second delay, almost knocking the air from his lungs. Ryan’s never prepared for the way Shane can deliver absolutely devastating blows in the most casual way. It’s one of his most charming qualities. “And you’re so small, I couldn’t let you get hit by a wave and pulled out to sea on my watch. Linda would kill me. I’d have to walk back to LA.”

or; the intricate ritual is skinny dipping

(no actual rituals happen)

Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered Am I by colazitron | E, 17K, complete

Look, just because Ryan looks good dressed as Indiana Jones, or dressed in various other things, and just because Shane maybe has a feeling or two about it, doesn't mean it's a thing, okay? Shane's got this.

Or: 5 times Shane had a feeling about Ryan's outfit, +1 time he did something about it

Nicole:

Like Wildfire by makemadej | E, 20K, complete

“Is this gonna be a thing with you?” Ryan demands. “You can’t keep committing to stuff that no one else knows about! When people online say they want you to be more open and vulnerable, this is not what they mean.”

“I know!” Shane wails. “I fucked up.”

“Again,” Ryan points out, which is true but really not necessary.

(Or: the one where Shane accidentally tells Ryan's mom they're a couple and they commit to the bit)

Nicole’s Note: The first Shyan fic I ever read, which was my intro to the ship and the reason I joined the SSS!!

The Weird 'Verse by Little_Bunny | M, 169K, complete

It really started for a stupid reason, and that stupid reason was the Ohio State Penitentiary.

But then, things got set into motion, and before they knew it, the relationship between Ryan and Shane had changed in relatively subtle but hugely important ways. Ways that are a little weird. Ways that nobody had expected, although Sara had given her full, unwavering support.

Well... Maybe Curly had suspected something. But honestly, Curly got the gossip before God herself, so... That was nothing new.

Nicole’s Note: Queerplatonic Shyan/Shyanara with some of the best characterisation I’ve ever read!! You know a fic is good when you end up with tons of your own headcanons for the universe it’s set in

we hope you enjoy our recs! as always, leave comments and kudos on fics you like - those mean a lot to authors! and feel free to let us know if you have any recs!

- the mod team

#mod ve #fic finds #mod fic recs #shyan #buzzfeed unclean #buzzfeed after dark #shyan shipping society

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patethenovice · 2 years

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1) y’all ain’t got anything better to do? MAN you care about heads of state way more than heads of government.

2) y’all think countries don’t have national ceremonies? 😒 maybe it’s an american thing for all y’all who live somewhere that’s not washington dc. as i do live there, let me disabuse you of the notion that national ceremonies are a rarity. how about they take the money the royal family yields in tourism-related travel and trade to pay for the funeral and then use the millions leftover to send y’all a juicebox.

3) it’s not my place as someone who doesn’t live near the border of ireland and that...other place to hint at anything like encouraging a return of the Troubles. and this does kill me. as someone from a whose grandfather’s parents were chased out of British-identity-obsessed (they don’t have one; no one but you considers you British except for yourselves) inferiority-complex-manifesting via reaffirming with KKK enthusiasm Catholic-hatred (K.A.T.????) -land into Scotland where my grandfather was born before emigrating to Trump country, thus cutting me out of Irish and EU citizenship by THREE YEARS. i am, personally, an irish nationalist. personally meaning not an activist, not chanting or posting shit on the shitstain that is ulster (another reason i die is because my mic name is a variant of ulsterman 🤬🤬🤬🤬) do y’all realize it’s not your place to encourage a repeat of the Troubles? that’s where y'all are some real fucks. seriously, fuck yourself before you speak. a how-to: take a nice vibrator, get off, and rethink whether its your place to want to stir up the Troubles if you live comfortably away from the bombzone.

4) i don’t even put a lot of blame on the monarchy for the famine. when visiting famine ruins, i got the impression it was English landlords (aka 1%ers) who were profiting by and therefor enforcing the famine. i might be wrong. you could say it was done in the name of the monarchy. that’s where being head of state gets to be a position with a lot of cons. but royalty are RICH! King George (Queen Elizabeth’s father) died early out of boredom, not stress! He should have died sooner aehrhrgjhgajrghrjagharjgh!!!!!!

5) my fav (ex)royals said it was Charles, not Elizabeth, who was being passive aggressive and racist. by all means, say their narrative shouldn’t be more valid than your own if you must.

6) i don’t know why y’all are so opposed to the idea of separating the head of state and head of government in the first place. if we had a presence like that here in the states, uninvolved in politics, neutral, a first lady sort of type but way bigger, big enough to solidify an identity, an identity closer to the founding fathers than any 2 party system--i might not have 100% forsaken my nationality. my grandfather’s country might have been fucked by English colonialism but my mother’s country was fucked by American colonialism. so I’ve never been actually proud of America. but living abroad, I came to at least accept it as irreparably part of who I am. after trump became the whole embodiment of the US though? state and government? an ugly picture of an ugly face (the country’s ugly face; it’s redundant to mention trump’s face and mention ugliness). i choose to be drifting and s*icidal rather than face that stain of my identity again.

all in all?

keep calm and fuck y’all

#queen elizabeth #well i jumped on some dumbass bandwagons out of excitement in my younger years #when i still had excitement #there are storms we cannnnot weatherrrr #i had a dream my life would beeee so different from this hell im living so different now from what it seeeeemed #but all yall and the rest not yall have killed the dream #i dreameeeed

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gufettogrigio · 3 years

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Of tiny Scotts, illegible menus and Graham's patience

When you shove together a mismatch of larger-than-life-personalities, all with their odd quirks and idiosyncrasies and often running more on adrenaline than rationality...well, things are bound to go horribly wrong from time to time.

The concerning part is that things don’t usually go wrong between Jim and Jackie.

“See if A help ye wi choosin yer clothes again.” - Jackie is screaming by the time Graham is summoned to the scene - “Ye can gae oot nakit for aw A care!”

Jim looks mortally offended. Or as mortally offended as someone who seems to be trying to disappear under the table can look. “It was once! It's not my fault you canae read.”

“It's no ma fault ye canae make a decision tae save yerself.”

Graham winches. “Have you people tried to stop them?”

Jochen nods. “Tried, yes. We gave up when the only words we could understand were ‘fucking wank-stain’.”

"Please tell me that was Jackie."

Piers, Jochen and Jacky look panickedly at each other. Then at the floor. Jacky shakes his head.

Oh, well - Graham thinks as he plasters his best Mr Monaco smile on his face. They could always get the restaurant staff to call the police. For murder or attempted murder...mostly depending on how fast he can get the menu out of Jackie's hands.

Tiny Scotts are vicious creatures. But they are tiny. And fairly sturdy. So Graham plucks the menu away from Jackie and shoulders him unceremoniously into the booth. The element of surprise is on his side - so he has about thirty seconds before Jackie realizes that he is the closest to the complementary water and Jim that Graham is not tall enough for his feet to reach all the way across the booth so he could, theoretically, still kick Jackie in a shin.

“Can I get in on whatever this is?” - Graham asks, pleasantly. There’s an exchange of glares then Jackie flips open the menu while Jim finishes merging with the booth’s upholstery.

Jackie points to the menu. “Is this a p or a b?”

“I think it’s a q.” - Graham says, squinting at the menu. He is starting to see the problem.

He flip the page. Then he flips the following one. Then the one after that. He squints again at the third page - the double, flowery cursive on the page is positively giving him a headache. The red and light orange palette on marbled creamy background isn’t helping. Nor is it the fact that by page five of the bloody thing Graham has yet to reach the desserts. Who needs this much choice in their life? Not him.

He snaps the menu close, flagging down a waitress.

“Can we get the three least ordered items on the menu, please?” - he asks, smiling warmly at the terrified woman. The two squirming Scotts freeze.

“Graham…” - Jim whimpers - “Please no.”

Jackie nods, frantically. “Last time ye did that the cheese was alive.”

Graham grins, handing the menus back to the waitress. “You make your bed, you lie in it. What can be worse than a poor sheep’s stomach filled with its own entrails, after all?”

What he doesn't say as two murderous stares train on him, it's that he doesn't exactly plan to stick around long enought to find out, though.

#tiny fic #jim clark #jackie stewart #graham hill #feat. my horrible Scottish #after having lived in Scotland for 4 years I should know better #also Jim and Jackie love each other I swear💚#with thank yous to Misha Collins who actually did order the three least ordered things #the balls

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ukrfeminism · 2 years

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The founder of a charity supporting women who have suffered domestic violence has been interviewed by police after she was reported for hate crime after stressing its female-only services.

Nicola Murray was left “shocked and panicky” when detectives arrived at her door after an online announcement by Brodie’s Trust that it would no longer refer women to Edinburgh Rape Crisis Centre (ERCC).

Talking to the officers, Murray, from Stanley, near Perth, was taken aback when she said they told her: “We need to speak to you to ascertain what your thinking was behind making your statement.”

Murray, 43, founded Brodie’s Trust in 2018 to support women from all over the world “who’ve suffered pregnancy loss through domestic violence or forced termination” by directing victims to local services for help.

She and a colleague determined its revised policy towards ERCC following statements by Mridul Wadhwa, the trans woman appointed its CEO last year, who claimed “bigoted” victims of sexual violence should expect to be “challenged on their prejudices”.

ERCC clarified its position, saying it was not seeking to “re-educate survivors” but Wadhwa angered some feminists again when she accused opponents of controversial reforms to the Gender Recognition Act of legitimising far-right discrimination of trans people.

Ministers want to change the act to make it easier for people to change their legally recognised gender. A bill is expected at Holyrood this year. Earlier this week the Equality and Human Rights Commission told them “more detailed consideration is needed”.

In September Murray posted a message on social media on behalf of Brodie’s Trust saying: “Due to deeply concerning comments made by the current CEO of ERCC we have taken the decision to no longer signpost to this service. We cannot in all conscience send vulnerable women to the service in its current state.” The message continued: “We have no interest in our clients’ religion, sexuality nor political views . . . We are a women-only service run by women for women and will not be intimidated into changing our stance on this matter.”

Detectives from Edinburgh arrived at her door on November 4. Murray said: “I ushered them through to the living room. The first thing they said was, ‘Some of your tweets have been brought to our attention.’ When they brought out the screengrabs of the statement, I said, ‘Really?’

“They said, ‘Yeah, we just have to speak to you. You’ve not said anything hateful, there isn’t a crime here.’

“I said: ‘So why are you here?’ They said, ‘Because we need to speak to you to ascertain what your thinking was behind making your statement.’

“I said, ‘Protecting women and letting them know that when they come to us they have a woman-only space, and we won’t let anyone in who won’t maintain that.’”

Murray said: “Then they said, ‘We better watch what we are saying — we don’t want to be quoted as police officers saying such and such.’

“I said, ‘Don’t worry about that. It is insanity, isn’t it?’ They said, ‘It is.’ They wished me well and went away.

“I was taken aback by the whole thing. I don’t believe anyone who has read that statement could view it as hateful. It was simply an affirmation of what we are doing: we are a women-only space, we aren’t going to change that, given what we do. Men cannot get pregnant, therefore they cannot experience a miscarriage and domestic violence. Why would they even want to come?”

Marion Millar, an Airdrie accountant, was arrested last year under the 2003 Telecommunications Act for tweets deemed hateful, including one with ribbons in the colours of the suffragettes, tied in a supposed noose. All charges were later dropped.

Police Scotland did not confirm details of the interview at Murray’s house, but she has a photograph of the two officers entering her house.

Last week The Times reported a warning from Police Scotland that it could not comply fully with the demands of the new Hate Crime Act until next year, because officers were struggling to cope with a surge in reported offences caused by Twitter rows.

A 76 per cent rise in reported crimes in which the transgender issue was the aggravating factor (76 reports) contrasted with 6.1 per cent growth in all hate crime reports (3,782) reflecting the impact of online rows about trans rights and gender identity, according to the Scottish Police Federation.

The figures prompted a robust debate on social media. Whadwa posted: “Since 2019, I have reported hate to the police more times than I can count. No charges, no convictions. All those things happened to me. There are witnesses and they suffered with me, my family, my friends and colleagues and others that matter to me.”

Wadhwa and ERCC were approached for comment. Assistant Chief Constable Gary Ritchie said: “Hate crime and discrimination of any kind is deplorable and entirely unacceptable. Police Scotland will investigate every report of a hate crime or hate incident.”

In a statement the Scottish Police Federation said: “QED.”

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hozierandco · 3 years

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Henry Cavill x Reader / Lessons / SMUT

A/N: Henry has to learn how to play golf for a film but his teacher may teach him a bit more than golf. In which Henry is a clumsy cinnamon roll. Inuendos intended, sorry not sorry. SMUT: oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, teasing, cursing, cumshot. Read at your own risk.

For the sake of a film in which he would play an aristocrat, Henry had to know how to play golf. He had agreed to it though he never had one single piece of knowledge on the matter.

Him who had done life-endangering stunts was not going to abandon for golf. He had three weeks before the beginning of the set and had decided to spend his holidays at a golf resort off in Scotland where he was determined to master the skills to that sport.

Y/N had been working at the Baurheid Club for the past five summers. The rest of the year, she lived in Glasgow but since her uncle was the club's manager and since she knew all about golf, she kept on working there.

The season was about to start and she was in charge of giving private classes for top-notch clients. Her rock solid privacy was celebrated by all and she was the perfect fit to deal with bankers and members of the idle class. An actor was about to complete the list.

"Y/N, here's the list of your clients for the next week"

Three names as each client required all attention. Quality over quantity was the motto of the club on that regard. The second one rang a bell to Y/N: Henry Cavill.

"Why does that name sound familiar? We've already have him, perhaps?" Y/N asked to Olivia who was welcoming the clients in the resort and who happened to be a close friend to Y/N.

"He's an actor, you fool" she replied in a moment of rest from the wave of clients "A handsome one too, lucky you!"

Instead of rejoicing along with Olivia, Y/N just hoped he was not the megalomaniac kind and that he wouldn't be a nightmare to work with. She went on with her day, many things had to be fixed before her first classes the next day.

Henry arrived by the entrance desk where Olivia acknowledged him and welcomed her just like any other client, in spite of her shouting internally. He had packed the bare minimum so his installment was brief.

The next day, it was almost noon when he woke up so he took himself out to the cafeteria.

Y/N had finished her first class of the day with a young member of the Dutch royal family and was gaining back the main accomodatio, up to the staff's lunch room. She had not changed clothes as she was not to meet any client.

Or so she thought.

"Oh, come on now!" Y/N heard someone grunting in her back as she was about to open the door to the place where she had left her food. She turned around only to see a frustrated Henry Cavill.

"May I help you, sir?" Y/N asked.

"Yes, please!" Henry jumped on the occasion "I'm looking for the lunch room but I always end up in this corridor... It's a bloody labyrinth there", he added holding back a nervous laugh.

Henry came back from his frustration as his misery was coming to an end with Y/N's arrival and that's on his way back that he noticed just how splendid Y/N was.

"Please, let me be your guide"

"Thank you very much. By the way, I'm Henry"

"And I'm Y/N", she responded making the connection with the photograph of Henry Olivia had shown her on her phone.

Along their journey to the lunch room, the two of them made some small talk while Y/N had to keep her composure. Olivia was right, he was bloody handsome. Even more so that on any photograph. And besides, he was visibly not a douche but an angel, making her feel at ease early on in their conversation.

As they arrived by the cafeteria filled with expensive furniture, the actor accompanied his "thank yous" with an offer: "I'm all alone at the resort, I could use some company for the lunch"

It was tempting if it wasn't for the fact that Y/N and the whole staff wasn't allowed to eat with the clients.

"Oh I see..." Henry said as Y/N explained the situation "But what if it's the client's decision. Isn't the customer always right?" he completed, glad he had found this trick to make her stay.

"Well, I suppose that it's the rule, yeah..." Y/N had been upset to decline the offer but she figured that indeed, she could stay a little while. Besides, the cafeteria was big enough for her not to be seen by anyone.

"It's a yes, then?"

"Yes, it is"

"So, what do you do here anyway?" Henry asked her as he came back from the buffet.

"I'm a golf instructor"

"Well, in that case, I'll probably see you on the green"

"About that, I should probably tell you that I'm the one who's gonna take care of your lessons for as long as you stay"

"I cannot wait. Though I should apologise in advance"

Y/N quizzed him by fixing his eyes. Shit, those eyes... Don't stare, don't stare, Y/N thought.

"I'm probably the worst golf player in Britain"

***

"You want to hold it like that" Y/N informed the way to seize the putter as she placed herself behind the impressive stature she had in front of her.

She could not believe that she was giving in the cliché of being glued to get someone to play golf.

Henry had not exaggerated, he indeed was pretty bad. In fact, he lacked of coordination and Y/N had to constantly remind him of how he was supposed to swing his body.

"May I?"

"Yes!" Henry was relieved to hear that he would get more help from her as she suggested than she could grab his arms to show the move.

She took his arms by the elbows. Henry being in a polo, she could feel all of his muscles under her touch.

"There, that's right! You've got the move. Now try to hit the ball"

And Henry executed himself but failed to even graze it. He snickered and then gave in a frank laughter that Y/N echoed.

"Right, you're gonna need to spend more time with me, Mr. Cavill"

"It's all I'm dreaming of. Dinner with me tonight in the garden?"

The class ended and for Y/N, it meant the beginning of her third and last class of the day.

As it was only 4 pm, Henry joined the games room where he had a view on the green where Y/N was helping an old lady to practice.

Of course, Y/N was too busy to notice him but it didn't stop him to smile like a child at her.

He was admiring her grace and her air of benevolence when a man came to him "She's a beauty, isn't she?"

Henry nodded at the stranger who in turns carried on "It must run in the family"

As Henry took his eyes oof of Y/N to see whom he was talking to, the stranger introduced himself "I'm Max, the club's manager. Y/N's uncle"

"Oh! How do you do? I'm Henry"

Max nodded, knowing very well who his select guest was.

"Is she a great teacher to you?"

"For sure. It's just that I'm a terrible pupil"

Max laughed along with Henry "Ah, son, she'll make a great player out of you"

The dinner happened. Henry had changed into another polo paired with camel chinos.

Y/N too had changed into a strapless floral dress with brown sandals. She greeted Henry as she sat down in the grass on which Henry had displayed a basket of fruits.

They started drinking and talking as the moon rose in the sky.

"I've talked with your uncle this afternoon"

"Oh have you? He's quite something, isn't he?"

"That he is. According to him, you're the greatest teacher out there"

"And you doubt it?"

"I'll try to be as good as a lamb for you"

After dinner, Y/N suggested that they take a walk around the resort. Any way to make the night last longer was worth seizing.

Everything was calm. No one around. Under their feet, the grass was slightly wet as dew had started forming and tinting their shoes.

Y/N took off her shoes, soon followed by Henry who had not done something as spontaneous as throwing a picnic in a very long time.

With their shoes in their hands, they carried on walking on the grass as crickets were going for a symphony and more and more windows got dark afar.

"It's been ages since I hadn't spent a lovely night like that" Henry sighed with pleasure "but that being said, I should hit my bed if I want to be at the top of my performance for my strict instructor"

The two of them had gotten very close to one another "If I stay now, I'm staying the whole night" Henry commented as Y/N's lips were dangerously close to his.

"I would let you" Y/N replied.

***

Henry and Y/N had met regularly apart from the times set for the classes over the last two weeks and if Henry had barely gotten better, the two of them had grown fond of the other. They had kissed on the fourth night, but both of them were not craving for more. Henry did not wish to rush things, nor did Y/N though the tension became unbearable.

"Do you think your uncle would kick you out if you spent the night at my room tonight?" Henry ventured as the class was over, wishing that he could kiss her right there, on the green.

"I wouldn't mind being kicked out if it meant spending the night with you" Y/N answered as she put back the clubs in the trolley.

After they finished eating at their favourite spot, Henry seized Y/N's hand and together they traveld to his room.

As Henry opened the door, he preceded Y/N,cupping her face with his hands to make her follow him in the suite.

He shut the door behind her and took her in his arms, only letting go on her after having carefully laid her on the bed.

"It is my turn to teach you a lesson, baby", he purred in her ear as he had let his lips wander from her legs to her face.

He placed his body over Y/N's but suddenly he got repentant and cursed "Fuck, I came here with nothing..."

Of course, Henry had no plans of making love to his instructor when he had booked holidays at the resort and found himself caught off guard, without protection for the night.

"In my purse" Y/N told him where to look.

"You might just be the most prepared teacher ever"

"Just grab it" Y/N begged him as he was going for encores, giving another sequel of kisses to her skin.

Henry ripped the scabbard and took his apparel out of his trousers, dressing it for the occasion.

Gracious God! There was lot to look at...

Fully erect, Henry came back in bed where Y/N was trying her best not to stare at the length.

"You sure about this?" Henry inquired as he aligned himself.

"Never been more sure in my whole life"

Henry then slid his member, inch by inch to be sure that Y/N was coping with what she was given.

He was just half through when it began to hurt.

"It's alright, doll!" Henry consoled her "I'm sorry, I'll go slow, I promise"

Henry found his way out as he had an idea to ease the process. Y/N still under him, he got down on her and made a feast of the flesh flashing before his eyes.

There was no doubt: he was much better at this than with golf.

As Y/N looked down at the face that had found shelter between her legs, she noticed just how dedicate he was. He was giving it all the attention required.

His eyes were glistening by the feeble light above their head.

Henry's cock was beating a rhythm of its own, pleased at it was that Henry was able to make Y/N moan with just his tongue and fingers.

The resort was known for "its quiet nights" and "tranquil setting" but tonight, Henry was eager to go off the rails.

It did have the expected effect on Y/N since her lair had gotten damp. Henry let her come back from the mountain she had climbed before he dived inside.

This time around, the whole length got in no sooner said than done.

"You're just so gorgeous!" Henry articulated with difficulty as he was carrying his moves, putting more energy by every second that went by.

Y/N's fingers borrowed the path drawn by his torso which was dripping with sweat "You're one very good student. And a very hot one too"

Henry's heart was pounding in his chest as he lifted Y/N's legs to put them by each side of his spine. That way, he reached a new spot with the tip of his penis which made Y/N pant with his name on her lips.

"Henry!" she cried her lungs out through the dark of the night. The tranquil nights long gone.

"Come for me, doll!"

She didn't have to hear twice as she was unleashing her falls.

But Henry was insatiable. Though teased twice by the sight of Y/N coming for him, his cock was still showing no sign of weakness.

He was willing to let go of her lover to give her some rest while he would take care of himself but Y/N stopped him as he was about to take off the condom.

"I wouldn't mind a third lesson" she told him "Let's change the angle. Show me how your swing's going. As for your stamina, Mr. Cavill, it got much better"

Y/N got on all fours, spreading her legs for Henry to come up behind her. As he entered the well, Y/N stretched herself so that she in turn allowed more of Hnery to get in and out.

Henry was admiring the view as he held Y/N by her hips, pounding her.

In and out, fast at first, the sounds of his cock hitting the bottom of her cunt.

Then Henry who got tired of the the action - and who was not going to hold it back for very much longer as Y/N's moans were rushing his climax - got slow, savouring every second he had ahead of him before he would come too.

Sensing that Y/N was close to get her third orgasm as she got tight around his cock, he decided for her to come to do so as well, and hoped that it would arrive soon.

She did come, shouting and laughing as she came back.

"I don't want you to come in that. I want to see you coming for me, Henry"

Henry then quickly removed the piece of latex which was soiled with pre-cum. The sole fact of taking it off almost made him come.

Henry kneeled on the bed by the level of Y/N who was laying down and emptied himself on her stomach.

"I cannot wait for our next class" Henry said in a sigh as he rested his limbs by Y/N.

#henry cavill #imagines #henry cavill imagines #smut #oops i guess #mind that i wrote smut in the train for the sake of science #henry cavill x reader

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wolfuckstar · 3 years

Text

Handmade Heaven

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31377314/chapters/77593565

1st august, 1986, Friday, 4 days till New Moon.

Day after Harry's sixth birthday.

Keiss, north end of Sinclair's Bay, east coast of Caithness, Scotland.

Summer.

7 AM.

"When you learn to ride the bike, I will let you use the broom."

"I don't understand why I got a broom if I can't use THE BROOM."

Remus laughed from where he was sitting, the Daily Prophet covering his face from the wind, his winter robe over his sweatshirt.

"For the fifth time" Sirius yawned, probably still indignant at having risen with the sun on an unusually cloudy Friday for a summer. The man ran his hand over his beard, opened his mouth to continue talking, but seemed to think better of it and gave up.

"I want to fly on the broom!" As irritating as the boy could be, the two missing teeth in front of his mouth would not let any of the men present take him seriously.

"Well, I want a new record, are you going to give me one?"

Remus put the paper down and gave Sirius a dismayed look.

"I don't care about your record." Harry's bottom lip was almost quivering now.

"Don't you care about David Bowie's Labyrinth?"

The boy seemed to be in doubt now. And Sirius looked more awake than he did 5 minutes ago, which was great. But not that great, since he had forgotten the packet of cigarettes inside the house and the only place he could smoke was outside.

"Don't you care about Queen's Kind of Magic?!" He asked, his voice emphatic and a playful, slightly insane look on his pillow-stained face.

The six-year-old boy seemed to think for a moment, but his green eyes behind the round lenses of his glasses soon found the Nimbus 85 leaning against the entrance door of the house and his expression went rigid again.

"I want to fly! Moony!’’ Harry called.

"Harry, dear" Remus had already given up on finishing reading the news, and threw the newspaper on the woody floor of the porch while answering loudly so that they could hear him from the small road after the fence "If you manage to ride the bike till the lamppost and back three times, we'll let you ride the broom, okay?" He reached over to the small table beside him to reach for the cup of tea, trying hard not to sigh at the stinging pains in his ribs and elbows. The happiness he'd felt when they figured it out that the full moon was over a week before Harry's birthday had passed, and all he could feel were the consequences of the damage. He knew he should remain optimistic, there was no point in brooding over his sufferings, he and Sirius had learned that over the past six years. He could allow himself to feel the pain, but at some point, you just have to let it go.

Keiss had an elementary school, which was a surprise at first. On the outside, the building looked like just one of the small houses on High Street, two stories, two windows, simple plant pots made of clay scattered on the asphalt of the sidewalk. Harry had started attending school a year ago and frequently went to the small park next to it even on weekends, when they were too tired to walk to the ruins on the beach or when they just didn't want to eat sandwiches sitting on the stone wall of the harbor. Sometimes, they visited the field next to the school to teach him how to play football. Remus would teach them while Sirius would make contemptuous comments about how much better Quidditch was and how Muggles didn't use their imagination, but in the end, it was just because he didn't know how to play.

There was a church on South Street, parallel to High Street. And, like everything else in Keiss, you could see the church from the school, and the beach from the church, and the beach from anywhere in the village. There, the vastness of the sky, the grass, and the sea seemed to swallow up everything else, suffocating them with peace, freedom, and salt air.

They did not live exactly in Keiss’s downtown, but just a few minutes walking would take them there. They didn't have a car either. There was no need. They owned an old, faded blue and rusty bicycle that they used when they needed to go shopping. And now, there was the red children's bicycle, bought in Wick, a town to the south, also in Caithness County. Remus and Sirius had agreed to give Harry the broom, as long as the boy also learned to ride a bicycle. Once the two men understood that this was what Lily would like, it had been easy not to worry about the money that would spend on the present.

After a few minutes explaining the whole theory behind the practice, Harry seemed minimally ready to try it himself and Sirius removed his hand from the bicycle seat, where he was holding to balance it. The boy took half a step forward and fell to the side, falling obtusely on the asphalt.

The men waited a moment before making any moves or questions. They had learned that, depending on how they reacted, Harry tended to cry or not.

The boy rested his hands on the floor and looked at the godfather with a crease between his eyebrows as if he had understood something incredibly difficult.

"If I had fallen off the broom, it would have hurt more, wouldn't it?" Harry found out.

Sirius Black threw his head back in a laugh that reverberated through the silent properties around him.

"Come on" The man bowed, extending his hand, helping him to his feet. When Harry was already standing, Black ran his hands over his little legs, removing the dirt from the small pointed and scraped knees. Sirius saw that the glasses were slightly crooked and adjusted them, still laughing "If you pick up speed, the bike won't tip over."

"If I go faster ..." The boy thought out loud "How am I going to stop? I don't know how to stop.”

"Er ..." The man was clearly not a big bike connoisseur.

"Use the brakes, Harry." Remus replied as he approached, extending the second cup of tea to Sirius "Use the brakes and put a foot on the pavement slowly."

The boy nodded and picked up the bike from the floor. Black helped him to give momentum, accompanying him with his hand on the back of the bench to give balance. After a few steps, he released it again. Sirius went back to Remus and took the cup of tea as he said.

"Sometimes I forget that he is only six years old." He took a sip "He's so smart."

A few meters ahead, Harry fell again.

The boy stood still for a few seconds, probably wondering if any damage had been done that would be worth crying. Still lying on the floor, he looked back and smiled at the two men, then got up.

"At least, he thinks for a while before being dramatic." Remus smiled behind the cup "Unlike some."

Sirius shoved him lightly with his shoulder.

"Idiot."

They looked at the boy, who was now putting the bicycle in their direction to pedal back to the front of the house.

"I don't think I managed to say good morning to you with Harry jumping on the bed," Black commented, looking away from the boy.

"I don't think I'm going to be able to say good night too with the number of scratches that I will have to cure later." Remus replies, but leans in anyway, resting his chin on the other's shoulder, inhaling Sirius Black's scent until he feels ecstatic and whisper "Good morning."

"Good morning." As he leaned in to answer, Sirius' beard crawled along the side of his cheek, causing shivers on his back.

Some birds from the ocean sang above their heads. The green grass of the surrounding properties rustled in the wind. The sun was a bright spot in the cloud-covered sky. There were no mountains, just the immensity of fields interrupted by small lakes and the North Sea.

"Maybe we should tell Harry to start pressing the brakes now," Sirius murmured, his voice slightly concerned.

Lupin raised his head in time to see the boy speeding towards them.

“Moony! Pads! Look! Pads! At full speed!” Harry repeated the phrase his godfather had said. The wind laced his black hair back, and his toothless smile melted more than the surface of the hearts of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black.

"The brakes, Harry!"

Unfortunately, Remus had to heal scratches on more than one person that night.

#my writing #wolfstar #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #Wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar raising harry #wolfstar raised Harry #the marauders #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #remus x sirius #Harry Potter

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wickedw3asleys · 3 years

Text

MINEFIELDS - Pt.1

George Weasley x Reader

WARNINGS: mentions of death, trauma, mental instability, depression, ptsd... emotional scenes, basically almost angst but not too much...

AN: hello everyone! so i finally got the time to finish writing the first part of my second serie! (i know i haven't finished my Just Like Heaven one but i have adhd bare with me) and i'm pretty excited about this one since it's not going to be a specific genre like fluff or smut, it'll just be a mini fic, so i hope you'll like it!!🥰

☆:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::☆

The Battle of Hogwarts and Fred's premature death was a huge heartbreak for everybody. The ones you once were close to in school were now almost strangers to you. It was sad, pretty sad actually, but none of you got out the same from Hogwarts, and for you, you were still living the trauma and pain of fighting for your life and seeing your friends die, even 4 years later; never being able to fully heal.

You thought that forcing yourself to move on the second you got out of Scotland would help you, but in vain. It was hard for you to completely move on, and the only one that kept you company was Dean, your old Gryffindor friend, who happen to be now your long term boyfriend. He was the only one that was still there after all; not even Harry, Ron, Ginny or Neville bothered in keeping in touch... The only one that sent you a letter from time to time was Hermione. You found yourself writing to her as a sort of therapy, even though you did it once every three or four months. But she was there, somehow...

You learned from her the first year that her and Ron got in a relationship, finally after all these years of being chasing each other; Harry and Ginny were still together; even Luna was now in a happy and healthy relationship, but she couldn't keep you updated about the others.

The part that broke your heart the most was when she first mentioned Molly and Arthur in her letters; after the loss of their son they weren't the same, of course they were still the Weasleys you all once knew, but they were "empty", as Hermione described. Molly, still to this day, would put an extra plate at the family table, expecting to see Fred join them for dinner; and Arthur would spend more and more time in his office, trying to get his mind distracted.

And then George... For the first year he refused to look at himself in the mirror. He wouldn't sleep or eat properly. The day Fred died, a part of him died too, not as twins, but as individual too, and everybody saw it.

When Hermione told you about the hell George had had to go through during these 4 years, you couldn't help but hate yourself deeply for not being next to him and helping him going through that.

"Sometimes I find myself talking to Ronald and Ginny about him, we are all very concerned about him and his health, still to this day... After all, he did not only lost his twin that day... He also lost you..."

Fred, George and you were always together in your school days, since your first day at Hogwarts, even though they were a year older than you. You were always there for them and they were always there for you, always you three, through heaven and hell. You couldn't agree more with Hermione's words, and you hated yourself for that. You had been selfish, not being able to stand by George's side and not giving him any sign of life. At the time, you thought that it would be better for both of you to just disappear, but after all these years, you were completely regretting that decision.

"Sweetheart... Hermione wrote...", Dean says, entering your bedroom, handing you a folder piece of paper, "Are you okay?"

You were once again lost in your thoughts, always the same ones, but Dean always knew how to help you come back to reality. You appreciated that of him, never showing and ounce of pressure or frustration towards you, and you loved him. But you weren't sure if that was truly love or if you were just thankful for him being there... And it was a thought that was slowly killing you inside.

"Huh?", you shook your head, chasing all these intrusive thoughts from it, "Yeah, I'm okay... Let's see what she has to tell me today..."

Dean warmly smiled at you and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, "Okay, tell me if you need anything, alright?"

You nodded and opened the paper the moment he left the room.

"My dearest Y/N,

I hope you are doing well. Everything is great here, we are all doing good. Nothing much has changed, except for Harry and Ginny speaking of engagement... I was supposed to keep it secret because it is not entirely confirmed yet but I couldn't help myself from getting excited over it! A good new like this one is what we all need right now...

That is why I am writing to you, I was thinking about making a reunion... A family reunion... After all these years I think it is finally time to get together and talk around a good dinner... As we used to do... I think it would be great for everyone and Molly is already so excited to have you back home, she misses you so much, Y/N... We all mis you...

I hope I get your response soon...

Your dear friend,

Hermione."

You put the letter on your desk and sighed deeply. You knew one day you would have to go back to the Burrow and see everybody again, and you wanted too. You wanted to feel like home again, feel everybody's love and affection again. You truly had missed all that, but after second thoughts, you weren't sure it was a good idea...

Hermione said everybody was missing you, but was that true? Did they all want to see you? Or do they actually still hate you for leaving? You didn't want to face Ginny's, Harry's or Molly's gaze when you get there, you would be too ashamed of it...

"I think you should go...", Dean says after you explained the letter to him, "It's been 4 years, Y/N... You need to see them as much as they need to see you..."

"I know... But what if they hate me...", you say with a small voice.

"They don't hate you", your boyfriends take your hands in his, "I'm sure they've missed you. You practically lived there when we were in school... And you were always with Fred and George..."

The mention of Fred's name made your whole body shiver. It has been a long time since you've heard his name falling out of someone's mouth, and you could feel your heart drop at the sound of it.

"I miss them... So much...", you start tearing.

"I know, sweetheart, I know...", Dean pulls you in a tight hug, never letting you down and holding onto you for dear life.

"You really think I should go?", you ask a few minutes later.

"I do... I don't like the idea of leaving you alone but I think it would be better if you went by yourself... Next time I'll go with you"

"Are you sure?"

"Completely...", he smiled.

The days that followed Hermione's letter, you had sent your positive response to her and started packing your things for the few days you were going to spend at the Burrow. Hermione had told you that the only one aware of your visit was Molly of course, but it would be a total surprise for the rest, that information only making you more nervous.

The D-day came up more quick than you've had thought, but there you were, now standing in the middle of your living room, saying your goodbyes to Dean, surrounded by your bags.

"Good luck... Everything is going to be okay...", he says, leaving the last small peck on your lips.

You warmly smiled to him and in a second, you apparated on the field in front of the Burrow.

You could feel your eyes already water at the sight of it. It was like nothing had changed, and even after all the thing that house had been through, it looked the same as it did the first time you stayed there.

The smell of rain and wet grass filling your nostrils and the sound of the wind and early birds only made you more nostalgic. Damn you had missed this place. It was home, you were home.

After a moment trying to compose yourself, you took your bags and went straight to the building.

When you got to the front door, you realized that you didn't know what to do; should you knock? Should you just enter the house? Thinking that the second option would be the less appropriate, you decided to just knock, already nervous about who you'd get opening the door.

You waited a few seconds before hearing an echo of someone running though the house, followed by voices and sounds of plates.

"Harry, dear, can you please-

"Hello, Molly...", you smiled to the woman in front of you, "it's been a while..."

She was in complete shock. Her mouth completely open and strangely looking like she was about to pass out.

"Oh Merlin...", she breathes out, "Y/N... It's really you..."

You could see tears starting to form in her eyes, and you felt too weak to stop yours from falling. She opened her arms to you and you didn't hesitate to hug her, instantly starting to sob.

"Let me look at you... Oh my Lord...", she took your face in her hands, rubbing her thumbs on your cheeks, collecting your tears, "You're a grown woman now... I can't believe it... Arthur! Arthur, come here!"

She embraced you again in the warmest motherly hug you've ever received, which only made you sob more.

"What's wrong, mom?", Ron arrived at the door, followed by his sister, Hermione and Arthur, "Who's-

You slowly lift up you head from Molly's shoulder and faced everyone.

"Y/N... You came...", Hermione says, shocked.

"Of course I came..."

Everybody was speechless, not knowing if you were actually real or just a pure product of their imagination. Ginny instantly got towards you, embracing you as warmly as her mother.

"Merlin... How are you?", she asks.

"I'm fine... I'm sorry... I-

"You have nothing to be sorry for, darling...", Mr. Weasley was now the one to hug you.

When he let you go, you looked at the other three people; you couldn't really describe the looks on Harry and Ron's faces, they were visibly shocked, but you couldn't see if they were happy or mad to see you...

"Ronald...", you started to make your way towards him, but quickly, he took a few steps back, "I need to go...", he says, before leaving the room.

You knew it was a fair reaction, he had all the rights to hate you and be upset.

"I'm so sorry...", you sob, "I'm so so sorry..."

Harry put his hand on your shoulder and also embraced you in a warm hug.

You didn't expect the reunion to be this full of emotions, and it wasn't even breakfast's time yet...

Hermione and Ginny helped you with your bags, leading you to Charlie's empty room, the one you always used to stay in whenever you stayed with the Weasleys.

"It hasn't changed a bit...", you say, admiring the house as it was the first time you saw it.

The two girls entered the room and sat on the bed with you, only to stay there in silence hugging you for a moment. As you couldn't believe to actually be there, they couldn't believe it either.

You made a brief resume of what had happened in your life during these 4 years; why you had left, where you were living now, your life with Dean...

"Dean?", Ginny smiled, "Wow... I wasn't expecting that one..."

"Yeah... I hope it's okay though...", you say, embarrassed.

"Don't worry, it's completely fine... Besides...", she stops to lift her hand and wiggle her ring finger, now occupied with a big gemstone.

"Godric! You're joking!", you take her hand, "I mean... Hermione told me about something like this in the letter, but I didn't know it was confirmed!"

"Hermione!", Ginny scolds her.

"Sorry! You know I'm very bad at keeping secrets! I was so excited for you!"

The three of you kept laughing and talking about everything, making you forget about the moment you had been apprehending for the past few days: your first meeting with George.

"Breakfast's ready!", you hear Molly's voice echo through the house, making memories come back to you.

You slowly made your way down the stairs with the girls and when you got to the kitchen, you felt you whole body freeze.

You were feeling like you were about to pass out, but at the same time, you couldn't find yourself making any type of move, you weren't sure if you were still breathing. You felt the weight of the world on your shoulder when you saw the man you had shared so many moments with, and when he turned to face you, you saw his brother.

His body immediately copied yours, not being able to move or say anything, and for a good minute, George and you stood still, staring at each other; and as if you had read each other's mind at the same time, you ran towards each other and crashed in your arms, sobbing like babies. You felt his legs start to lose strength, and you not being able to help him stand, you both let your bodies fall to the ground, still hugging and holding on each other for dear life.

Neither of you had said anything yet, you were both too busy shaking and sobbing to say anything anyways.

The other people in the kitchen didn't say anything either, they just stood there, looking at George and you, knowing that it would be better to not interrupt you and just leave you let your emotions out.

George was obviously was more affected than you were, and you could feel his body tremble with every breath he tried to take.

"I m-missed you... so much...", he managed to say between sobs.

"I missed you too, Georgie...", you keep crying with him.

"W-why... did you... left me..."

"I know... I know... I shouldn't have... I'm so sorry...", you sobbed harder. How could you have done that to him? How could you have left him alone? After everything...

"I'm so sorry, Georgie... So sorry... I missed you so much..."

"Please, tell me you're staying...", he looked at you in the eyes. You could feel his sincerity emane from his body, and you knew he needed you. He needed you as much as you needed him.

"I am staying...", you managed to smile between your tears. George hugged you even tighter than before, crushing your body with his but you didn't care. You'd let him break your whole body if he needed to.

"Georgie... Honey...", you felt Molly's soft presence helping you get up and guiding the both of you to the table. When you sat down, you see that everybody was deeply affected by the scene that just happened; Molly still having tears running down her cheeks and Hermione and Ginny holding onto each other. Even Harry and Ron were on the verge of crying.

You sat down on your chair, George's eyes still on you and your hand in his.

"George, darling..."

You quickly turned your head to the voice behind you.

"Angie...", George got up, almost stumbling on his own feet.

"What is she doing here?", she asks, earning confused looks from everybody.

By the look she had on her face, you knew she wasn't happy to see you. She looked at you with disgust and anger, which was completely fair...

"How dare you?! You filthy little-

"Angie, it's okay... Please, calm down..."

"Calm down?! Look at you! Only her can make you feel that way again!"

"Angelina... I promise I came here to start things over... And do things correctly this time...", you say, tears forming again in your eyes.

"You have NO RIGHTS to be here! After all the damage you caused this family! NO RIGHTS!", she yelled, her eyes almost popping out of her head.

You looked at the people around the table, no one saying anything. Not even Molly was able to form coherent words, she was just there, heavily breathing.

"I'm going to go...", you slowly stand up from your seat, not wanting to make everyone more upset than they already were, "Angelina, I'm sorry..."

She glanced at you in anger, "you shouldn't be here", she spat.

"Y/N, don't leave, please...", George pleaded, eyes red and swollen.

"I'm just going out, I'll be okay, don't worry...", you caressed his arm trying to comfort him, and you could feel Angelina tensing her body at that action, eyes full of fire.

"I'm sorry...", you say before closing the door behind you.

#fred weasley #george weasley #harry potter #hogwarts #weasley twins #fred weasley x reader #george weasley smut #weasley twins x reader #fred weasley smut #george weasley x reader #george weasley fluff #george weasley fic #weasley twins fic #harry potter fic

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hogarthwrites · 3 years

Text

the three of us part 2 (request)

part one

pairing: sam drake/femme!reader (m/f)

genre: adventure

warnings: death mention, violence

words: 4,350

summary:

You receive grave news about Sam, and you're left to fend for yourself and your child. Years later, your daughter wants to finish what Sam had started, but you're in for a big surprise when Sam himself comes back.

note:

this was a request by @profoundapricotclodopera as a part two of the three of us <3

this follows the sequence of uncharted 4, but with alterations in the reader's, sam's, and samantha's POV's

The incessant knocking at the door woke you and Samantha up. She had crawled in next to you after a nightmare, but she wouldn’t tell you. You looked at the clock and saw that it was 2 AM. Who the hell would be at your door at this time?

“You think it’s Sam?” Samantha whispered.

“Maybe,” you got up and put your robe on. “And he’s your father, you should at least call him ‘dad’ or something.”

“Sam sounds cooler.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and made your way to the door.

“Mom, wait,” Samantha stood behind your bedroom door. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

You walked back to her and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll handle it.”

Nate stood at the door, a mix of panic and despair in his eyes. He stumbled into your living room, grabbing your shoulders.

“Nate?” You helped him up. “What’s happening?”

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but he couldn’t seem to get it out. “Sam…”

You were filled with dread all of a sudden. You saw Nate’s mouth move, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying. You didn’t wanna believe it. You couldn’t believe it.

Next thing you knew, you were on the ground while Nate tried to shake you awake.

“Mom?” Samantha’s voice echoed through your mind. “Mommy, are you okay?”

“I’m so, so sorry,” Nate was crying as he kneeled next to you.

“What happened?” Samantha asked.

Nate looked at his niece, trying to blink back his tears, but failed. How was he ever gonna tell this innocent child that her father was gone? He remembered how Sam told him about their mother when he was younger. Damn it all, he thought to himself. That was Sam. He always knew what to say.

“Nothing,” he lied, helping you up. “Go to bed, Sammie, I’ll take care of your mother.”

“Tell me it isn’t true,” you whispered as he helped you to the sofa and he looked away. “Nate, tell me it isn’t true.”

“I’m sorry,” he was crying again. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save him.”

“No,” you clenched at your chest. It hurt. It hurt so much. “He… He can’t be gone.”

You knew it was a bad idea, but you wanted to trust Sam. Now you’ve lost your husband, your true love, and your best friend all in one day. You didn’t know how you were going to live.

“I’m sorry.”

“I can’t tell her,” you wailed. “How am I ever gonna tell her?”

Samantha crouched at her door, listening to your conversation, hearing you cry out loud. She couldn’t understand it. How could Sam be gone? He always seemed like a rock to her, someone who was never scared, someone who would always protect her and her mother. He always scared away the monsters under her bed and taught her how to fight her bullies back.

“I’ll do it,” Uncle Nate said, and she heard his footsteps approach her bedroom.

She shakily stood up and walked back to her bed to hide under the covers. Nate sheepishly sat at the foot of her bed.

“Sammie?” He said quietly.

She peered out of her blanket and looked at her uncle. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

Nate blinked in surprise. “I’m sorry.”

“How?” Her voice quivered.

How? Nate gulped. He was shot a bunch of times by some prison guards and fell twenty feet. That’s how.

“He fell.”

“Why didn’t he just climb up?” She started crying as well. “Sam would always climb back up.”

Nate took her in his arms. He failed you, he failed Sam, and he especially failed her. He continued to talk to her until it was late. He had to get back before Rafe realised he was gone.

Samantha sniffled as she took the picture of her and Sam on her bedside table. Something inside her knew something bad was going to happen, but at the same time, she had a feeling he was alive.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered as she stared at Sam’s picture. “I’ll finish what you started.”

15 Years Later

You couldn't believe your eyes as Sam stood in your porch, soaking wet from the rain, a sad, soggy bouquet in his hands.

“Surprise,” he said softly.

You stood, blinking at him. You were definitely going psychotic. Instinctively, you closed the door, leaning against the wood to catch your breath.

You peeked through the peephole and sure enough, Sam was still there.

“I don't know about you, but it's freezing out here,” he said as you opened the door again.

“How do I know it's you and not just someone who looks like you?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Come on, baby, do I look that different? I'm still that stupid kid who got you pregnant all those years ago.”

You looked him up and down. He looked like Sam, but like you, he looked older, with more wrinkles and his hairline was different. Nonetheless, he was still handsome to you.

“It’s really, really cold out here,” he pulled his jacket around himself tighter.

You opened the door to let him in and he rubbed his arms as he dripped all over the foyer. You couldn't believe it was actually Sam, your Sam, and you reached out to touch his cheek.

He was cold and wet but he was real. Sam’s kind eyes were the same as ever and he looked at you tenderly.

You hugged him, not caring that your shirt was getting wet.

“Sam,” you sobbed into his sherpa jacket. “Oh, Sam, where have you been?”

He held you tight, burying his face in your hair. “I'm sorry,” he whispered.

“How did you…?” You looked down as he raised his shirt to show you where the bullets hit him.

“I don't know, they ‘fixed’ me up and let me rot in that prison.”

“You're still really handsome to me,” you kissed him. You hadn't kissed him in fifteen years and it was euphoric.

“You haven't changed a bit,” he pulled you into his chest as he deepened the kiss.

Yours and Sam’s clothes hung over the heater as you lay on the sofa naked. You'd forgotten what it felt like to really make love and Sam reminded you with the way he touched and kissed you.

“I missed out,” he looked around. “Is our little Sam in college?”

“Sam,” you sat up and looked at him. “She's 27.”

He blinked at you in surprise. “No, she couldn't be…”

Sam sat up as well and held his head in his hands. He couldn't believe it; he missed out on all of his daughter's life and all because he was careless on one job.

“Where is she now?” He asked quietly.

“She’s in Scotland.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “What the hell is our daughter doing in Scotland?”

“She wanted to finish what you started…”

“And you just let her?!” Sam stood up, his hand in his hair in frustration. “What if -- what if something happens to her?”

“You don't think I tried to stop her?” You stood up, pointing an accusative finger at him. “She's just as stubborn as you!”

Sam sighed. “Okay. Do you know who she's working with?”

“She didn't tell me, she just left.”

“Shit, she could be working with Rafe,” Sam picked up his boxers, but it was still damp. “Does Nathan know?”

“No,” you groaned. “I tried my best, okay? It wasn't easy raising her on my own.”

“We'll fix this,” Sam paced. “I have a lead, we have to get to her before…” He looked back at you. “Can I use your phone?”

Samantha

Samantha Morgan shivered in the cold, Scottish air. She loved Scotland, but she hated the cold. She just joined Shoreline as a desperate attempt to finish what Sam finished. When he disappeared she took his old last name, unable to cope with losing him.

She thinks she's in love with Rafe but she couldn't help but feel like he was hiding something from her. Either way, there was something to gain whether it was professional or not.

Nadine and Rafe were arguing again. There still wasn’t any sign of the treasure and Nadine was getting antsy, arguing that they should start using dynamite. It was getting too much for her, and she just wanted out.

They'd just come back from Italy and Rafe was irate. Apparently the cross was stolen but he was still too angry to tell her what had happened.

“Goddamn Drakes,” Rafe grumbled as he flung the door open to her room.

Samantha gave him a look. “I'd like to remind you who I'm related to.”

“It's your infuriating uncle and…” He glanced at you. “Nevermind.”

Sometimes he hated looking at her. She looked too much like her father and it just reminded him how he spent so much to get that ungrateful bastard out of prison just so he could disappear with everything he needed.

Luckily for Rafe, the next best Avery expert was Sam’s own daughter.

Reader

Sam and Nate had gone to look for the treasure. Sam made sure to try to update you on wherever they were, but it still worried you, especially now that you'd lost contact with Samantha. Not to mention, you had to hide it all from Elena.

“I just don't understand,” Elena held her head in her hands. “Jameson said there wasn't a Malaysia job, so where the hell would Nate have gone?”

You sighed, looking at her. You knew how she felt, scared to death about where her husband was, never knowing if he'd still show up or not.

“Elena,” you sat next to her. “There's something you should know.”

She looked up at you with tears in her eyes. “Where is he?”

You handed her your phone. “Ask him about Malaysia.”

Sam

Sam felt like shit. Not only did he lie to his baby brother, but now he's found out his own daughter was working for the enemy. He hasn't formally talked to her yet, but seeing her through binoculars next to Rafe gave him a nasty feeling.

What was he gonna say once he finally talked to her again? He wondered if she blamed him for not having a father figure growing up.

I'm sorry, Samantha. I'm so sorry.

Samantha

Samantha wasn't feeling any better. Rafe was acting weird and she felt guilty for being on the other side of her uncle and her father. She wanted to see Sam again, to remember what he was like before he left. What would he think of her now that she was an adult?

“He's going nuts,” Nadine muttered as she sat next to her. “MRE?”

“Thanks,” Samantha gratefully accepted any kind of food.

If it wasn't for Nadine she probably would've gone crazy, it's just she didn't share the same sentiment about the Drake brothers and it scared Samantha that it would put a strain on their relationship if she found out who her dad really was. Rafe had promised to keep it a secret, but at this point, she didn't know if she could trust him.

“All of them nuts and for some treasure,” Nadine frowned. “When I get my hands on those Drakes…”

“Yeah…” Samantha stared down at the dry biscuit in her hand. “Those Drakes…”

“Really makes me wonder where Sam came from. Feels like he just appeared out of nowhere.”

“Well he was presumed dead…” Samantha sheepishly said.

“He should've remained dead.”

Samantha pursed her lips, unsure of what to say. One of these days she knew the truth would come out and as much as she was happy about having her father back, she was scared of losing Nadine too.

“Fuck,” Samantha tumbled through the jungle. She'd lost Rafe, Nadine, and the mercenaries and she had no choice but to keep going. Find higher ground was what Sam always taught her and so she did. She kept climbing until she heard a familiar voice.

“I'm gonna scour this island inch by inch if I have to -- until I find that treasure. Now, if you're confused about what you're doing here, then you can go home, Nathan.”

She saw her father standing taller than her uncle Nate. He looked just like she remembered him, just a lot more worn out.

“Wait, wait, wait. I can go home?” Nate sounded irritated. “Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea what I put on the line to get you here?”

“How about what I put on the line?” Sam sounded hurt and Samantha felt it. “Okay? The last fifteen years of my life -- I never even got to see my own daughter grow up.”

She felt a pang in her chest and took a deep breath, wondering if she should go out there and talk to them.

“It has nothing to do with that!” Nate’s voice got louder.

“It has everything to do with that!”

“Oh crap,” Samantha cried as she tripped on a vine. The two men looked back at her, with Sam’s eyes wide open.

“Samantha?” They both asked in unison.

“Hey, Uncle Nate…” She stood up then looked at Sam. “Dad.”

“Samantha…” Sam whispered and embraced her tightly. “Holy fuck, you're so…”

“Old?” She mumbled, trying to hold back tears.

“I just can't believe it,” he stood back to take a good look at her. “At least you got my good looks… And your mother’s of course.”

Samantha looked up into his brown eyes, identical to hers, and began crying. “I missed you so much, dad.”

“I'm glad you're safe,” he hugged her.

Nate was staring into the distance.

“Uncle Nate?” Samantha asked.

“I -- I'm sorry to interrupt this reunion,” he walked towards some vines and pulled them apart. “Holy crap.”

“Avery’s insignia,” she gasped.

Sam was surprised at his daughter’s knowledge, but he also felt proud.

“You still wanna go home?” He turned to Nate.

“Let's just see what we can find.”

Sam wanted to catch up on everything he'd missed out on his daughter, constantly asking her questions. Did you go to college? Did you take history? Please don't tell me you're married already.

“Don't worry,” Samantha laughed. “I'm glad I didn't get married before you got back. No offence, Uncle Nate, but I would've preferred my father walking me down the aisle.”

“No worries,” Nate smiled at her. “All those years… You two are so alike. Like father, like daughter.”

Samantha laughed along, but she didn't want to tell them about Rafe. Not just yet. She just got her father back, she didn't want to ruin it.

Reader

Elena didn't say much as she looked out the window of Sully’s plane. It was all a mess and you knew Sam and Nate were probably feeling just as shitty. Elena definitely didn't hold back in calling you and Sully out on keeping this from her.

“What's the plan, kid?” Sully looked back at her.

“I don't know,” she sighed. “He always does this and I just… I don't know if it's worth it anymore.”

“I know you can't forgive me,” you sat in front of her. “But I know what it's like to lose the love of your life and I know how much you love Nate.”

“That's true,” she choked up. “Oh, god, we have to find him.”

You all turned when you heard the sounds of gunshots and bombs go off in the distance.

“That's gotta be them,” Sully started the plane. “What do you say?”

“Yeah,” Elena said in a shaky voice. “Let's find them.”

Samantha

The last time Samantha was at the end of a barrel of a gun was when she accompanied Rafe to a high class, very discreet casino at the penthouse of a luxurious hotel. He'd lost a game and the man in front of him -- Mr. Bell, was it? -- pointed a gun at her as a threat. Rafe shook it off, eventually talking their way out with a lot of cash.

This time, she was at the end of the barrel of Rafe’s gun and the wild, angry look in his eyes terrified her. Sam protectively moved in front of her.

“First your useless, pathetic father, and now you?” Rafe walked over to Sam and punched him hard.

“Dad!” Samantha kneeled to help him up.

Nadine gave her a disappointed look when she realised she was Sam’s kid. There was betrayal all around and it made her nervous.

“Look, let's work out a deal,” Nate tried to reason.

“Oh, a deal. I'd love to hear what you have in mind,” Rafe walked over and kicked Sam down again.

“Rafe, stop!” Samantha stood up and Rafe pointed the gun at her.

“What's the deal?” He said through gritted teeth.

Nate slowly helped Sam up. “You want Avery’s treasure? We'll help you find it.”

“And in exchange, I let you live?”

“Yeah, and a small cut.”

Rafe laughed out loud. “The gauchos on these Drakes.”

“Just enough to earn him his freedom, okay?”

Samantha and Rafe looked at Sam in confusion.

“What freedom?” She asked.

“Nathan--” Sam took a step forward.

“Yeah,” Nate cut him off. “He did hard time. Our time. And the guy who broke him out, Hector Alcázar -- he owes him a lot of money.”

“Alcázar?” Samantha asked. “But didn't he--”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Rafe frowned. “He died in a shootout in Argentina six months ago. I'm the one that got Samuel out.”

“What?” Nate looked betrayed and Samantha realised she and her father were the same, lying assholes.

“Wow. What did he tell you?” Rafe was amused. “What did she tell you? I'm sure she's just as slimy as her old man.”

“Rafe, stop--” She glanced at Sam he wouldn't meet any of their eyes. “Dad?”

She tried to catch her breath as she kneeled on the ground trying to make sense of what was happening. Before she knew it Rafe had his gun on Sam.

“You said it yourself; you keep running into dead ends,” Nate kept trying to reason. “Face it, Rafe. You need us.”

“You're right,” Rafe paused and pointed his gun at Nate. “I just need Sam.”

Reader

“He just came out of nowhere, huh?” Sully asked as he circled the island. Elena had gone on foot to find Nate, Sam, and Samantha and you anxiously waited for any signs.

“I found Nate,” Elena said into the radio.

“And Samantha?” You grabbed the radio. “Sam?”

“Rafe’s got them.”

Shit.

“Sully, we have to land. We have to find them.”

“Are you sure? Rafe and Nadine’s got a whole army down there,” Sully tapped on the yoke of the plane.

“We should help Nate and Elena. Please, this is my daughter and my husband,” you pleaded.

Sully landed the plane near the shore and you geared up before leaving. It made you nervous; this was Sam’s line of work, the type of work he always shielded you from and wanted to shield Samantha from. You weren’t even sure if you still knew how to climb stuff, but you had to look for them.

Oh, those two owe me for this.

Sam

“Rafe?” Sam angrily whispered at Samantha. “Of all people -- you were with Rafe?”

“He said he needed me,” she whispered back. “I know now it was a stupid mistake.”

“Damn right it was.”

“Look, I hate to ruin this… Family reunion… or something,” Rafe pushed Sam’s back with a gun. “But shut the fuck up and lead the way.”

Sam angrily glanced at Rafe and pushed on through the cave with Samantha close on his heels. He couldn’t believe it; the man who was responsible for his incarceration, the reason he missed out on life was with his own daughter. He didn’t know if he was more disappointed in himself or at Samantha.

He sighed. He couldn’t blame her; she was just like him: a stubborn liar. He wondered how you ever raised her by yourself.

“Sam,” Samantha nudged him and she pointed at a mummy. “Look.”

“Shit,” he whispered. “They’re traps.”

“What is it?” Rafe asked.

“It’s… Just a warning,” Samantha replied. “I guess Avery wanted to scare off anyone who happened to wander into his cave. Right, dad?”

“Right,” Sam glanced at her. “Just in case, I’ll go first. Samantha, stay close.”

Samantha

She took his hand the way she did when she was just a little girl, remembering the times he’d hold her hand when he taught her how to ride a skateboard or how to climb roofs. Despite the dangerous situation they were in and all the lies, she was happy to have him back.

They stood in front of the mummies, trying to figure out if any of them would blow up. It was then a mercenary pushed past them.

“Wait--” Sam called out, but it was too late. As the mercenary walked past a group of mummies, they all exploded one by one.

Sam ducked down, covering Samantha.

“Cover your mouth and your nose,” he whispered and took her hand.

She nodded and as they stood up, Sam ran, navigating his way through the tunnel, getting away from Rafe and his men. Samantha’s ears were ringing from all the explosions and she felt like she was going to faint from the smell, but as they got to a clearing, Sam let go of her hand.

“You okay?” He asked her before coughing.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Have we lost them?”

Sam looked back and nodded. “Yeah. They’ll be dealing with those mummies for a while.”

Light came in from the end of the cave, and Samantha peered into it. “There’s a shipyard out there.”

“You still wanna find that treasure?”

Reader

“That stubborn asshole,” you groaned as you watched Sam run away. He insisted on finding that treasure, and it frustrated you that he would put that above everyone else’s safety.

Nate had gone after him and Elena was riddled with anxiety as you waited by the shore. Sully had gone back to the plane to start it just in case you all needed a quick escape.

“Oh, Sam’s really done it now,” you paced back and forth and Samantha pulled at your elbow. “Oh, god, why did I ever agree to this stupid treasure hunt.”

“Mom, I’m sorry, I should’ve told you the truth.”

“Don’t start--” you sat down next to Elena and held your head in your hands.

“How do you think they’re doing there?” Elena asked.

You shrugged.

“Mom,” Samantha kneeled in front of you. “This was all he ever wanted.”

You shook your head. “Sammy, you could’ve gotten hurt. He didn’t think of that?”

“I came here on my own, mom, I’m old enough to take care of myself,” she took your hands in hers. “Please trust him a little more. I did this for him and if he found that treasure, he deserves it for all those years he spent in that prison.”

You looked into her eyes. She really took after Sam and it made you emotional to think he was presumed dead when he was her age. That was the man you loved then and despite everything, you still did love him.

“You’re right,” you hugged her.

“He’ll be alright,” she said, then looked at Elena. “Uncle Nate, too. Come on, he survived a hanging train in the Himalayas.”

Elena gave a small laugh. “I think we’re getting too old for all this.”

“Well, I’m not getting too old yet,” Samantha stood up tall.

It was then a large explosion came from the cave where Sam said the treasure was. You watched in horror as the mountain began crumbling apart. Samantha held yours and Elena’s hands as you watched, collectively holding your breaths.

“Oh my god,” Elena pointed at the water. “There they are.”

Nate and Sam swam to the shore, grabbing onto the sand for dear life. Elena ran to Nate and you and Samantha ran to Sam.

“Sully?” Elena said into her radio. “We found them.”

Present Day

A string quartet played as you nervously fiddled with the ring on your finger. As soon as you got home, Sam had presented you and Samantha all the treasure he managed to pocket in the ship, along with a ring he’d been keeping on him since he’d come back. You immediately accepted his proposal to marry him again.

“You look amazing,” Samantha kissed your cheek before she walked down the aisle as your maid of honour.

“You ready?” Sully held out his arm and you graciously accepted it.

“You know we never had a formal wedding the first time,” you whispered. “We were 19 and we exchanged cheap rings we found at a thrift shop.”

“Jesus, never realised how young you both were.”

“Yeah,” you blushed. “Nothing with Samuel Drake is ever planned, you know?”

You laughed at the memory. It was a few months after you’d given birth to Samantha and Sam wanted to take you out on a date. He took you to the usual dinner and a movie, but this time you’d pointed at a thrift shop where you saw some jewellery.

“Hey, why don’t we get married?” Sam had said and you looked at him in surprise. “We have a kid, so why not tie the knot?”

“You really wanna marry me?” You laughed.

“I mean,” he shrugged. “Yeah, I do.”

You bought matching rings then went to a court impromptu to make it official, just two 19 year olds in their worn out jeans swearing to love each other “until death do us part”. The judge had given you a funny look, but Sam was serious.

As you walked down the aisle, he had the same look as he did all those years ago, but this time he wore a suit and you were both surrounded by friends and family. He gave you a bright smile as he watched you.

“I’ll take it from here, Victor,” he said as he took your hand and kissed it. “Are you sure you wanna marry me?”

“Yes, Sam,” you stood in front of him and held his hands in yours. “I do.”

#sam drake x reader #uncharted fanfiction #sam drake #request

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cursebreaker-lilith · 3 years

Photo

I said I was gonna do this like a month ago and I’m late as usual lolol Anyways, have Fiona~

BASICS

Name: Fiona Fraser

Nicknames: TBD

Name Meaning: Anglicization of the Gaelic word meaning white or fair.

Gender: Cis Female

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 15

Birthday: August 20, 1875 (? Year depending on when the game is set)

Zodiac: Leo

Blood Status: Half-blood

Ethnicity/Nationality: Brazilian-Scottish

Sexuality: TBD

Appearance

Body:

Height: 158cm / 5′2

Build: Lean with light muscles

Eyes: Dark brown

Hair: Dark brown, slightly curly. Long and usually held back in a messy braid.

Skin: Light brown with freckles

Misc: Several small and mostly unnoticeable scars across her hands and ankles from dealing with animals

Material Items:

Clothing: Generally wears clothing meant for sports or plain trousers. Uncaring of most conventions for women’s clothing, considers them more guidelines than rules. Really only wears them because she’ll get in trouble with the school or because her sister wants her to.

Accessories: Not fond of wearing anything that could be easily yanked off of her body.

In their school bag: Wand, journal, animal treats, encyclopedia of common Scottish plants, another journal, textbooks, medical book, some rocks that she thinks are cool, at least have a dozen quills (she loses them frequently)

Reference:

Face Claim: TBD

Voice Claim: TBD

Personality

Traits:

+ friendly, observant, quick learner, athletic, extroverted, courteous

+/— independent, curious, quirky, blunt, impulsive, idealistic

— selfish, withdrawn, thoughtless, unreliable, flighty, forgetful

Description:

Fiona has always wanted to do things her way, and clashed with her grandfather because of this. Loves to go off on her own.

Loves learning. Mainly of the natural world, but she loves any fun trivia. Not great at learning in the usual classroom setting however.

She may not be the best at making friends, but she definitely puts her all into being cheerful and courteous.

Other:

Likes: Animals, nature, exploring, puzzles and logic, cool rocks or leaves or bugs

Dislikes: Being told what to do, sitting still, being inside, not receiving an explanation for why she can or can’t do something

MBTI: ENTP

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Hogwarts

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

OWL Classes:

Astronomy: 4/10 (A)

Charms: 7/10 (E)

DADA: 5/10 (A)

Flying: 5/10 (A)

Herbology: 8/10 (O)

History of Magic: 2/10 (P)

Potions: 6/10 (P)

Transfiguration: 6/10 (E)

OWL Electives:

Care of Magical Creatures: 10/10 (O)

Divination: 2/10 (P)

NEWT Classes:

Care of Magical Creatures: 10/10 (O)

Charms: 8/10 (E)

Herbology: 9/10 (O)

Extracurriculars:

Clubs: TBD

Quidditch: Doesn’t play Quidditch, but thinks it looks fun

Prefect or Head Boy/Girl: TBD

Best Classes:

Care of Magical Creatures Fiona has always had a fascination for the natural world and a gift in dealing with it, so it’s no surprise she immediately takes to the class.

Herbology See above. She also would frequently help her sister with gardening.

Worst Classes:

History of Magic Anything with book learning is hard for her.

Astronomy See above. She thinks it’s much more interesting than History of Magic though and at least tries to do well.

Divination She thought it would be fun but turned out to be about as poor of a Seer as possible.

Favorite Professors:

TBD

Least Favorite Professors:

TBD

Magic

1st Wand: Chestnut, Phoenix feather, 11 ½ in, springy

This is a most curious, multi-faceted wood, which varies greatly in its character depending on the wand core, and takes a great deal of colour from the personality that possesses it. The wand of chestnut is attracted to witches and wizards who are skilled tamers of magical beasts, those who possess great gifts in Herbology, and those who are natural fliers. However, when paired with dragon heartstring, it may find its best match among those who are overfond of luxury and material things, and less scrupulous than they should be about how they are obtained. Conversely, three successive heads of the Wizengamot have possessed chestnut and unicorn wands, for this combination shows a predilection for those concerned with all manner of justice.

Special Abilities: Able to see Ancient Magic

Boggart

Form: Herself, stuck to the floor and unable to move (representing being stuck in one place and unable to explore)

Riddikulus: Her plain gown turns into something ridiculous and she unsticks a foot only to fall on her butt

Amortentia

What they smell: TBD

What they smell like to others: Citrus, petrichor, lavender

Patronus

Form: Leopard

Memory: The first time she successfully healed a wounded animal and released it into the wild.

What they see in the Mirror of Erised: Her with her mother, father, and sister travelling the world

FAMILY

Sister: Fenella Fraser

Her identical twin sister. The two are very different, but very close due to the fact that they only had each other growing up. Fiona is very protective of her sister, but is also interested in seeing how things will go now that they don’t live in the same room anymore.

Grandfather: Alasdair Fraser

Fenella and Fiona were raised by their grandfather on a rural and isolated farm in Scotland since they were a baby. He was very strict and very paranoid and refused to let the girls go to Hogwarts, homeschooling them with help from Isla, who their grandfather barely tolerated. He died suddenly from illness when they were 15.

Father: Thiago Gonçalves

A Brazilian Muggle-born who was fond of travelling and adventure. Went to Castelobruxo and was an eager student. Currently missing.

Mother: Catrìona Fraser

A Scottish pureblood raised by her strict father. Never went to Hogwarts and homeschooled by him. Left his house the second she was old enough and ran off to find an adventure. Currently missing.

Guardian: Isla MacLean

A pureblood witch who lives nearby to the Fraser farm and one of the few aware of its location. Alasdair would (begrudgingly) invite her over every two weeks or so to help teach Fenella and Fiona as Isla worked as a tutor to younger wizarding children at the nearby town. Not knowing anyone else, when their grandfather died, the two girls went to her to help deal with his death and what comes after. She has reluctantly become their caretaker/guardian for when they aren’t at Hogwarts.

Pets:

Angel An angry old tomcat that they used as a rat catcher on their farm.

Has always been fond of taking care of wounded animals, or any that live on her grandfather’s farm and considered all of them her pets too.

FRIENDS

Best Friends:

Fenella Fraser Her sister, see above.

Good Friends:

TBD

Friends:

TBD

It’s Complicated:

TBD

Love Interests:

TBD

Dormmates:

TBD

Doesn’t Interact:

TBD

Enemies:

TBD

Story

Childhood:

Homeschooled by her strict grandfather and a neighbour before his death. After that, they went to live with the neighbour for several months and she became Fenella and Fiona’s caretaker and guardian before shuffling them off to Hogwarts.

Fiona was always in trouble with her grandfather. She didn’t like being told no without a reason why and frequently broke his rules to go off exploring on her own. She still loved him and was sad when he died, but was excited to be able to properly learn things at a school.

Hogwarts:

Was also quite shocked to be separated from her sister when they were Sorted into different Houses. She took it much better than Fenella however and quickly tried to make friends in Ravenclaw. Turned out to be not great at school, but always had fun with the Ravenclaw door’s riddles.

Adulthood:

TBD

Miscellaneous

Has ADHD but it’s undiagnosed because 1800s

Decent at art, at least when it comes to drawing animals or plants.

Has her own family curse related to Ancient Magic that I will probably expand more on when the games comes out lol

#hphl #hogwarts legacy #harry potter hogwarts legacy #hphl mc #hp hogwarts legacy #Fiona Fraser #art be mine #texttexttext post

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isitgintimeyet · 4 years

Text

Just A Friend

Just another Sunday and just another chapter. Thanks to all of you who read, like, reblog, comment. i appreciate it more than you know.

thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta

AO3

Chapter 4: From Park to Parlay

There’s something rather special about this time of year with the transition from spring to summer when everything is still so fresh and green. The long, light evenings make me feel like I’ve been given an extra couple of hours in my day.

My flat has a balcony. It’s small—just enough space for a bistro table, two chairs and a few pots of herbs—but I love it. I come home from work and sit out there, sometimes with a cup of coffee, sometimes with something a bit stronger. Of course this is weather dependent — I am in Scotland, after all.

But sometimes, like tonight, sitting on my balcony isn’t enough. I want to be outside in all that fresh air and sunshine. Plus, one of my neighbours has acquired a new hobby, apparently. It’s either learning the violin or strangling cats. Although it sounds more like the latter, I'm going to give her the benefit of the doubt and say it’s the former. I have finally managed to identify the piece she’s having a crack at. It’s from ‘Frozen’ — ‘Let It Go’ and I really wish she would.

Besides, if I wander into the park, there’s a certain ice cream kiosk that might still be open. My mouth waters at the thought of their cherry bakewell ice cream. So, I grab a cardigan, keys and a bit of cash, and head out.

As I stroll through the park, I’m thankful that I brought my cardigan. The sun is still warm, but there’s a distinct chill in the shade. Not enough of a chill to put me off an ice cream, though.

The kiosk is just on the verge of closing for the day, but he spies me doing that stupid little pretend run that’s actually no faster than walking and waits. I smile gratefully as I hand over the money in exchange for a double cone. Turning away, I can hear the shutters closing.

There’s a bench nearby, overlooking the pond and still in the sun… unoccupied. I sit down ready to enjoy my ice cream in peace. After the cacophony of a violin bow being scraped painfully across strings, this is sheer bliss — only the sound of a few argumentative ducks and the occasional playful dog. No-one to disturb me, no-one to—

At first, all I can hear are two voices, coming from the path behind me. Nothing above a murmur — one low pitched, the other higher. I can’t make out what they’re saying. Not that I would want to. The higher voice, a female, is definitely getting louder now. She’s not happy by the sound of it. The other, clearly male, keeps to a calm murmur.

“Are ye telling me I’m imagining things, then?”

I can’t hear the response, but it’s obviously not to her liking.

“I ken she works fer ye. But she has her eye on ye. I’m no’ stupid. D’ye think I’m a mug?”

The voice sounds a bit familiar but I can’t place it anywhere. Perhaps we go to the same coffee shops or bars or—

“That’s it, James Fraser. I’m going, I mean it... Ye ken where tae find me… this is me, going… bye… I said bye. Fine, dinna answer me, then.”

The annoyance in her voice registers in my brain. I know why she sounds so familiar— it’s little Miss James-Fraser-isn’t-here-don’t-call-again-ever. Which means that, at any moment, one or other of them might be rounding this corner and think that I was eavesdropping.

Quickly I get to my feet ready to walk away —slap bang straight into Samsonite-owning Jamie Fraser. I take a step back. The first thing I notice is he’s not wearing a white dress shirt this time. He’s far more casually dressed in a plain white t-shirt… a plain white t-shirt now adorned with a large splodge of pink ice cream right in the middle of his chest.

“Oh, gosh, I’m — I’m so sorry,” I stammer apologetically as I fumble in my pockets for a paper serviette or tissue.

He looks up. The vexed expression on his face gives way to one of amusement.

“Claire Beauchamp,” he announces. “I didna recognise ye without yer suitcase.”

“I am sorry,” I continue to apologise as I pass him a somewhat crumpled but clean tissue.

He makes no attempt to leave, but settles himself on the bench and starts to dab ineffectually at the pink stain.

“Was it good?” He nods at the battered cone I am still holding.

“Oh yes, the best. I’d buy you one as compensation but they’re closed now.”

“It’s fine. If I feel the need I can always suck on ma shirt.” He looks down at the stain, glaringly obvious against the pristine white of his t-shirt. “Sae, how are ye doing?”

I perch on the bench next to him. Apparently we’re having a conversation.

“I’m fine, thank you,” I answer politely. “And how are you?”

“Me, I’m no’ sae bad,” He looks annoyed, then shakes his head and gives a little half smile. “Look, I’m sorry if any of that… er…weel, if ye heard any of that.”

Do I lie? Pretend that I heard nothing? I’m not a very good liar. Geillis always says that I have a glass face, you can see every emotion clearly etched on it and I think she’s right. So I choose to answer noncommittally.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s jes’...” he pauses for a moment, considering his choice of words. “Jes’ … tricky.”

He seems lost in thought. Maybe I need to remind him that his wife-partner-girlfriend-housekeeper has just stormed off and will clearly be awaiting some sort of reaction from him.

“Shouldn’t you be… ?” I gesture towards the path in the direction she must have taken.

“Nah, I’m no’ going after her… no’ this time.” He adds the last bit under his breath.

“Oh, ok.”

“That's what she wants, ye ken. The attention, me chasing after her, making promises…” his voice tails off as he realises what he’s doing.

He looks at me and shrugs his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I shouldna be blathering like this tae ye. I dinna ken why.”

I do. Sometimes it’s easier to vent, to get things off your chest, to a stranger rather than family or friends. You can pretty much say what you like, confident that it’s not going to come back and bite you, or spread like chinese whispers around your peer group.

“No need to apologise. It can be easier explaining things to strangers, sometimes.”

He smiles. “Ah, but, I dinna think we’re strangers. After all, I’m well acquainted with yer holiday… er...shall we say, accessories.”

If his intention was to make me blush, he’s succeeded. I feel myself redden. “It was a hen party. I had to get into the spirit.”

“So ye say.” He raises an eyebrow as if to question my explanation. “Och, dinna mind me, I’m jes’ teasing.”

I screw my face up in mock disgust and he chuckles.

“My mam told me never tae pull faces else ye’ll be stuck like that if the wind changes.”

I assume a serious expression.

“That’s much better, Miss Beauchamp,” his face becomes serious too. “But, aye, I get what ye’re saying— about talking tae people ye dinna ken. Ye’ve no horse in this race, as it were. Everyone else that I ken seems tae have an opinion.”

I’m suddenly conscious that the remains of my cone are still in my hand, now totally melted. Noticing my awkward fidgeting, he returns the crumpled tissue to me. I wipe my hands and deposit all the debris in the bin by the bench. He settles back, obviously keen to continue our conversation.

“Sae, are ye up fer giving me yer opinion then about ma situation?”

I’ve never thought of myself as an agony aunt, but I’m curious to know more about him. It’s reassuring to know other people have complications in their love lives too.

“I don’t know enough to give you my opinion, but feel free to unload, if you want to.”

He leans forward, his large hands resting on his denim clad knees and sighs. He has very nice hands with neatly shaped nails, no ragged cuticles or bitten nails. There’s a smattering of reddish hairs on the back. I always notice a man’s hands. Frank had very smooth, elegant hands with long, slim fingers. Jamie’s are much broader than Frank’s, which fits with his whole Viking throwback vibe. I force myself away from his hands and focus on what he's telling me.

“Ye see, ye get tae an age where all yer friends are in couples and having bairns. And ye feel that’s what ye should do, have a proper ‘relationship’.”

I inhale sharply at the way he says the word, so similar to my own thoughts. He glances at me, and continues.

“Ah, ye ken what I mean. And sae ye go along wi’ it when ye friends introduce ye tae a lass. And ye date… and it’s nice, but there’s always that feeling that they want something more, that they want the whole ‘relationship’ thing. They want more than ye can give. And that leads tae disappointment and arguments. They push, trying tae force ye to commit.”

He sits back and looks at me. “Mebbe it’s…och, i dinna ken. Jes’ ignore me. I’m a stupid dolt.”

“No, I don’t mind at all. Honestly.”

“I mean, Laoghaire is a nice enough lass, but it seems the more she pushes, the more I back away. It makes her more suspicious. If I dinna want her, then she reckons I must be after another. What do ye think?”

Do I tell him about her answering his phone? I mean, it seems like he’s coming to a conclusion all by himself. I decide not to volunteer any more information. And I know I said I wouldn’t give an opinion, but I just can’t help it. This is all too familiar to me.

“It is difficult but, ask yourself, is this fair to Laoghaire, or fair to you? Will this keep happening? I mean, I don’t know her, but will she be satisfied with what you are prepared to give? I think you already know your answer. And I think you know what you must do.”

He sighs again. “Aye, I do. But it’s no’ a pleasant thing, is it?”

I shake my head. The image of Frank’s devastation is still fresh in my mind. “It never is.”

The bench is now in shade, and it’s cooled down a lot. I shiver and wrap my cardigan tightly around me. Time to head home, I think.

“Aye, ye’re right. Time tae go.”

I’m not sure if he’s talking about the evening chill, or what he needs to do about the whole Laoghaire situation.

We both stand up at the same time. He extends his hand, and I take it in mine, which is more than a bit grubby and sticky, with the odd bit of tissue still stuck to it.

“Thank ye for listening, Claire, and fer yer opinion. It’s been a big help tae me. I dinna ken what it is but I feel I can talk tae ye. And I promise, next time, it’s yer turn. Ye can vent like ye want tae me and I’ll do the listening.”

“Will there be a next time?”

He smiles. “Oh aye, I’m sure there will be.”

#outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #Claire Beauchamp #Jamie Fraser #Just a Friend #chapter 4

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mallowstep · 3 years

Text

visual impairment in the uk in the early 20th century preliminary research

so it's july, disabilities pride month, i'm researching for watlcitf (1910s ireland au), and i figured i should share what i'm looking at.

(the title for this post is so incredibly specific but that's because most research is. my previous post for watlcitf was like, 2k words exclusively going through census data for one census and one county in ireland. i named maybe twenty characters.)

anyway, disclaimers out of the way, tagging @foxstride because i think they'll be interested in this, let's get started.

unlike last time, i have a specific research goal: to determine what jay's life, as a blind person, would be in the uk (specifically, ireland) in the early 20th century (specifcally, 1900-1914), given that he's from a well-off family.

so i have the benefit of being a bit more focused.

unfortunately, i don't have a great backlog of information. i can't just pull up the national archives and start going through census data. that's alright, what else is research for?

i'm going to try to keep to things that are broadly accessible, but if i can't find things on the internet, i will be turning to my university's library resources.

getting my footing

so after checking that the obvious search (various combinations of the keywords form the title) didn't pull up anything particularly useful, i started going after disabilities in general in early 20th century england.

(i know i'm not set in england, but i also know that i can find broad coverage of information about the uk by starting my research in england.)

before i do that, thoough, we did have britannica's history of the blind, something i found fairly unhelpful. i already know braille was around by the 1910s, and then for some reason it tailspins into the us, which is exceptionally unhelpful.

(an interesting story might be sending jay abroad for a better education, but this is not that particular historical au.)

anyway, as per usual, britannica told me a lot of what i already knew and didn't offer any good leads to new information. (i draw the line at buying books for a fanfic. this is a one-shot. i am going to have written more about my research for it than the actual fic. sigh.)

so next up: historical england's a history of disability, which covers a wonderfully long time range, making it good for anyone from the middle ages to the recent past.

i jumped straight to disability in the 19th century, because their 20th century starts covering 1914 and on.

for those following along at home, the 4 headings in the sidebar are clickable links to articles with more information.

i know jay is going to be living at home, so while i did skim through the section on asylums and workhouses, neither of those are applicable here. we're skipping straight to the daily life of disabled people.

since about 50 years pass between the main time period of this article and my time period, i'm not sure how much i can rely on the attitudes section, but jumping off places.

some key quotes:

"These were the ambivalent Victorian attitudes towards disability - a combination of fear, pity, discomfort and an idea of divine judgement."

"Henry Fawcett (1833-1884), blinded as a young man, became Postmaster-General in 1880; he introduced the parcel post and the postal order."

"In 1838 the London Society for Teaching the Blind to Read was formed and in 1866 the Worcester College for the Blind ('for the blind sons of gentlemen') became the world's first further education provision for disabled people."

"In 1868 the British and Foreign Blind Association was formed by Dr Thomas Armitage, initially to promote the use of braille. It was to become the Royal National Institute for the Blind."

"In 1894 the first branch of the Guild of the Brave Poor Things (motto: 'Happy in My Lot') was formed as a self-help group for people with physical disabilities. They described themselves as a group to "make life sweet for the blind and crippled folk of all ages"."

so great! that gives me a good number of jumping off places. nothing ideal, but it's a start.

henry fawcett

seems like a good enough start. researching attitudes won't help me entirely, here, mostly in that i'll be better off starting with other things and seeing what i pick up.

well according to wikipedia, he was blinded as an adult while he was already in education.

that's incredibly frustrating.

moving on.

royal national institude for the blind

as i know this exists, i figured it's as good a place to start as any.

sticking with wikipedia, because frankly, sticking with wikipedia is as good a place to start as any, we're on the wikipedia page for royal national institute of blind people

wikipedia's history summary was saddening.

moving on.

rnib's history page is next up on the list.

well, the first key takeaway is the adoptation of a braille magazine ("progress") and braille contractions. i'm not doing an overview of braille here, because these research posts are primarly for my own benefit, and i'm comfortable with my understanding of braille as it stands.

alright, i'm frustratingly limited in what i've learned, but i'm making progress.

the white cane

i took a bit of a change of course. we went back to the drawing board: literally just googling "history of blind people" in vain hope but lo! i actually stumbled upon something.

a list of facts about the white cane lead me to the wikipedia page for the white cane lead me to an archived web link about the history of orientation and mobility and good lord! have i finally started getting somewhere.

this is entirely focused around the us, and i'm not going to type up a summary here as it's quite long.

that said, it's alltogether helpful. the biggest takeaway is that mobility was taught by individual teachers going home to home. exceptionally helpful tidbit, that is.

the thing with historical research is that there are things that feel like reasonable assumptions to make often aren't, so i feel quite happy in that knowledge.

to the specifics: ireland

alright, while i'm mostly unsatisfied with what i've done, i want to move on. i have a feeling that i'm going to need to revisit this. i actually just changed the title to preliminary research to account for this.

sigh.

so we've moved to the history of ncbi, the national council for the blind of ireland.

they were founded in 1931, meaning that my instinct to start in england was correct, but still. their history page confirms that home teaching is the big thing at the start.

summary and moving on

okay so i went to do some research into the history of education in the england (the status of ireland vs england is at the moment Complex, but suffice to say that for most purposes i'm searching for english history) to see if i could find any sort of wrap-up about home tutors vs schools, and.

lo.

i found something fairly useful. it's an elemetary education act for blind and deaf children, which, like, god. so useful.

laws are just. good ways of establishing the general outlook of a time period.

so.

unfortunately.

it does not apply to ireland and scotland, and yes, i do have to do research into the history of education in ireland, but i feel i have hit some kind of nebulous conclusion.

because this is half research notes and half helpful information for others (if anyone else needs this kind of specific information), i'll try to summarize here

schools were possibly able to handle blind students. by "handle" i mostly mean "provide a seat and something resembling education", but that's better than nothing.

most mobility, braille, etc., skills seem to be taught by instructors going home to home

thanks to the relatively low traffic, population density, etc., blind people seem to have a decent amount of mobility

that's all for now. my skills in research are not historical research, so i can't promise that like. i have the best critical thinking skills here. etc. etc.

#mine #txt #6th #July #2021 #July 6th 2021 #research #masterpost #ref #watlcitf #i gotta like sit down and start digging through primary sources next #the thing is because jay is his Brother it's like #annoying to do a lot of work because jay isn't pov #but he's also too important to brush it aside #anyway

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canis-lunaris · 3 years

Text

Introducing: The Wandering Witch AU

(With transgirl!Remus, questioning!Sirius and endless conversations about the metaphysics of wandless magic)

This is the latest installment of our various Wolfstar AU's with August, one we came up with while we were on a mini-holiday, celebrating our third anniversary.

In this universe, pureblood-supremacy is rampant, keeping the Wizarding World in the permanent dark ages. Muggle-born wizards are only allowed a wand upon being accepted at a magic school, and most institutions favour pureblood children over half-blood, or muggle-born students. Wands are registered and heavily regulated, including tracking-spells and random spot-checks for counterfeit, or unregistered wands by Ministry officials.

After a werewolf-attack at age 4, Remus Lupin’s father tries to teach her magic using his own wand, knowing she would never be allowed into Hogwarts. However, performing magic with someone else's wand is not only dangerous and illegal, but also extremely difficult. Remus — a savant, who can sense magical currents in a way none of her peers can — realises that she doesn't need a wand to focus her power, and instead develops her own way of casting — or spell-weaving, more accurately —, tying an intricate web of knots between intent and the ambient magical currents to shape reality to her will. While admittedly crude and volatile, her technique turns out surprisingly potent, which makes her more than capable of protecting herself against the many dangers of a transphobic, werewolf-hating world.

Because her condition places both her and her family in a vulnerable position (the "werewolf-issue is an ages-old favourite talking point of mainstream wizarding politics, including a fearmongering campaign designed to marginalise intelligent magical creatures and eradicate non-human magic users), the Lupins decide to avoid registering their child after the attack, relying on the help of muggle medicine and corrupt healers to nurse her back to health after the transformations. They move frequently, bouncing Remus from school to school, but once Remus has gotten a basic education, they settle down in an isolated cottage on the Scottish highlands, and her mum takes on the duty of homeschooling her.

Having been brought up in a mixed family and lived the majority of her life as a muggle, Remus is well-versed in the matters of 21st century life. Once they settle into their new home, she starts transitioning, takes up Luna as her middle name, but keeps Remus as her first name, refusing to abide by arbitrary societal rules about names being connected to certain genders, rather than the people wearing them. After both her parents meet a tragically early death in a car accident, Remus finds herself alone in the world, with both a house and a large sum of money to her name; she sells the cottage and spends her parents' life insurance settlement on getting bottom surgery, then sets out to travel the world, looking for someone, or something to find a meaningful connection with.

----------

On a glance, Cassandra Black is everything her most ancient and noble house could want for an heir. She is brilliant, powerful and a downright genious when it comes to magic; the only problem is, she's a bit too smart for her own good, and no amount of discipline can keep her from asking too many questions. The only thing her bewildered parents achieve with their constant, increasingly violent punishment is that young Cassandra stops asking them, and starts looking for answers of her own.

By the time she's 11, she's thoroughly disillusioned, worlds away from the conservative, blood-supremacist doctrines she was brought up with. Upon entering Hogwarts, she spends the first free breath of her life on convincing the Sorting Hat not to place her in Slytherin, a decision she pays for with the world as she knew it. In return, she gains a new, brighter one, full of friendship, adventure and budding romance — although dark secrets, stomach-turning injustice and bitter heartbreak too. When it comes to her parents' attention that she is sleeping with a witch, their treatment turns from toxic hostility to open abuse, severing all emotional ties between Cassandra and the House of Black. She spends five years as a proud Gryffindor, but by the time her 16th birthday rolls around, she feels like she'd learnt everything Hogwarts had to offer — the good and the bad alike. She decides not to return to the castle for the sixth year: instead, she uses the start of the school year to orchestrate an elaborate escape plan, that would make it impossible for her family to find her. She breaks her wand and vanishes into the night, never to be seen again.

British Wizarding society erupts in chaos, because even one as scandalous as the Black heiress, the mysterious disappearance of a 16-year-old, pureblood-aristocrat (and a witch, for that) brings the Ministry's messaging about public safety into question, and the story keeps the tabloids busy for the better part of a year. The family puts out an enticing bounty on their firstborn's head, but regardless of the spectacular reward, no one can locate Cassandra, and without a wand to track, she proves to be impossible to trace. Eventually, the tabloids move on and the story slowly fades into the background, although, en lieu of a body, they never officially assume her dead, and the family never gives up the secret search for their wayward, blood-traitor daughter.

----------

Three years later:

Somewhere, hidden in the mountains of Scotland, there is a halfway-house, for magical folks who need to get off the grid, for one reason or another. Remus is a regular visitor, using the shelter's reinforced cellar for the full moon, and taking her time to recover at the quaint little house for a while thereafter. Nobody bothers her there, and while people do use the retreat — it's always clean, stocked with food, healing items and clean bedding, among other obvious signs of habitation —, she'd never encountered any other guests during her visits. This time, however, an unpleasant surprise welcomes her, in form of a backpack and a half-drunk bottle of wine on the porch, and soon, she finds the owner of the items as well, lounging on her favorite sunning spot.

The stranger looks ragged; unkempt and malnourished, and when they speak, their voice sounds hoarse, like they haven't used it for a long time. Remus is immediately weary, even though the stranger looks very young and rather unimpressive, expect for the very posh accent and the fact that despite their extremely strong magical aura, they did look startled, almost terrified when Remus walked up behind them — and yet, their hand never even twitched to draw a concealed wand.

"I’m armed!" the stranger warns — maybe they expected a muggle? —, but still doesn't move to reveal any weapon. Remus is quite certain she could take them on in one-on-one combat regardless, should it come to that, but she finds it alarming that this runaway teen would survive alone in the wilderness for what seems like a considerable period; a feat that requires a number of skills and the kind of training that does not come with the elocution training the stranger's speech suggests. Not just the accent, the face too... Under the layers of dirt, severe sunburn and a fading black eye, there is just something eerily familiar about them.

She introduces herself as Remus — it's one of her favourite ways to quickly size up a person, based on their reaction to her obviously masculine name. She does the whole cheeky, "whatchagonnado" act she perfected throughout the years, expecting anything from a spiteful comment to a confused eyebrow-raise in response, but the stranger just nods and gives her a polite "hello, Remus", like this was the most normal interaction between two people who just met at a shelter for magical misfits, in the middle of fucking nowhere.

The stranger, however, is less forthcoming about their identity, and Remus has to openly ask for their name after 10 minutes of tense, but idle chitchat. The stranger blushes a deep red, and once again, there is that flash of panic in their eyes, before they blurt out "Sirius... Black."

"Oh."

Of course, Remus thinks, wondering how she missed it before. She knows exactly who Sirius is, or who they used to be — she'd seen this face a million times before; a younger, smoother version with fewer sharp angles and without the haunted look in their bloodshot eyes, but the very same face was once plastered all over Britain — on missing flyers, in front page news, later on wanted posters... 10.000 galleons are a fine bit of money for a head like this. She gives the stranger a sideways glance, and they glare right back at her, with a defiant expression that might have betrayed their famous origins, even without the esteemed family name. The Blacks, they do all look the same...

"Well, that answers the question whether you're a muggle" Sirius remarks with a bitter chuckle. "Look, I know what you're thinking. And yes, they do have the funds, but just so we are clear on this, if you move to draw, I'll attack you, and it's gonna be over before you ever reach your wand. You will lose, most likely die, and then I'll have to spend this lovely evening digging a hole for you in the woods instead of sharing a bottle of crappy wine. So, just don't, okay?"

Remus can't help but admire the kid's bravado — they aren't stupid, she can tell that much, if from nothing else, the fact that they somehow successfully evaded one of the most powerful magical families, and their countless footmen, for over three years without ever leaving a trace; and yet, they seem to know when they're outmatched.

"Who says I'd need to draw?" she smirks, hoping to provoke a quick duel out of the youth. She likes to get the power-struggle out of the way early on, just so nobody gets ideas while she's sleeping or in recovery. The young Black might turn out to be a reluctant ally, but they could mean real trouble after the full moon, if they were to follow family tradition in wanting to rid the world of a monster like herself. Three days left until the next transformation, which means she's at the height of her power, so taking Sirius out here and now would be the wisest, and she thinks she could do it without harming them too badly. Nothing she couldn't fix in a blink afterwards.

Sirius measures her with a curious squint, slowly raising their left hand into the air. All five fingers are adorned with a variety of silver rings, from plain, thin bands to heavy signets with rune-engraved stones. A web of glowing lines flare up on the back of their hand, spreading out from an intricate magic sigil on their wrist. They emit a faint, blueish white light, running along each finger to the tip, as Sirius charges up for a wandless spell. Flashy, but creative, Remus thinks, truly impressed for the first time. She's used to wizards relying on their wands to do the work for them, and she knows seven different ways to dismantle the connection before they ever get to fire off. The stranger's magic is different — it's raw and unpolished, but brutally powerful, and very complex, in a geometric sort of way. This would be more difficult than she initially thought, and she's unsure if she could immediately disarm Sirius without having to literally dis-arm them.

To avoid confrontation, she raises a hand in front of her too, conjuring a harmless little will-o-whisp in her palm — a trick she developed as a child, tied up on the bare cement floor of her parents' basement, waiting for the curse to take hold. There was no light in the basement; she was lonely, cold and terrified, so she made herself a friend, a cold flame to keep her company while she was waiting for the moon.

Sirius' eyebrows disappear somewhere under their tangled fringe, but their face lights up with a huge, mischievous grin:

"Remus, the girl raised by the wolves... You're not boring at all, are you?"

#the rest is history #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #fanfiction #wandering witch meets wondering bitch #trans!remus #trans!sirius #fanart #long post #julien draws

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weirdestbooks · 3 years

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Secret States Chapter 4

I Think America Broke A Few Countries

Australia POV

"Holy shit" I muttered under my breath as America left the room. America has kids. I'm an Uncle. But why didn't he he tell me? It sounds like nobody knew except America's kids. But why keep it a secret? I remember Mexico's angry and heartbroken face when she found out her son was alive. And America knew. Along with 5 other people. Why didn't they tell her?

I looked over at Liberia to see him talking to Marshall Islands, Palau, Micronesia and NATO. His siblings, My nieces/nephews. Holy shit. All the other countries and organizations seemed to be in the same mental shock as me. Maybe that's why America left. This is a lot to process. But why didn't he tell anyone?

"If you guys want to ask questions, you can." Micronesia said, rubbing the back of his neck the same way America, and Texas, my nephew, had. Was this some sort of family trait America's kids, my nieces/nephews, had. I tried to ask my questions, but i just ended up sputtering out words.

"Texas." Mexico said, "Do you know why America never told me about Texas?"

"The Mexican-American War started very soon after Texas was annexed, so they held off telling you then, mainly because Texas didn't want to talk to you. Then there was that whole thing in the 1860s and the southern states put more effort into fixing their relationship with Chedam (Dad) and the northern states, then there was the Spanish-American War and after WW2, Chedam refused to tell anyone about our siblings out of fear of what the Soviet Union, or other enemy countries would do." Palau explained.

What happened in the 1860s that required half the state to fix their relationship with Ame? I thought, I wasn't the only one however, because Japan asked the same question.

"What happened in the 1860s?" America's kids all began looking uncomfortable and nervous, shifting their feet around and refusing to make eye contact. Liberia cleared his throat and shifted nervously.

"We, we really don't talk about that. It...It's just...not something anyone's whose been part of the Union likes remembering. Please don't bring it up." Liberia said. Why didn't they want to tell us what happened. Did something horrible happen? What's makes them so nervous that none of America's sixty-two kids (oh god I'm an Uncle, America has kids) would want to talk about it.

And Liberia called America the Union, America was a Union, he had kids, I'm an Uncle.

"The Union?" I heard EU ask. NATO nodded.

"Like Texas and Dad said, America's a union. One of his nicknames...names? Anyway, one of them is the Union. Dad getting new states is referred to as 'states entering the Union' and I know Dad is called the Union in his Constitution because Massachusetts won't shut up about the Constitution and Revolution and everything like that." NATO commented.

NATO was my nephew. The North Atlantic Treaty Organization was my nephew. I see him at work almost everyday and I didn't know. Why America? Why didn't you tell us? I wanted to ask that questions so badly, but I was afraid of the answer. Did America not like me or trust me? Did he actually never fix his relationship with Dad and was just pretending to so their alliance would go better.

"Why didn't Ame tell us?" Canada asked. "Why didn't he tell his family?"

Cuba stood up after Canada said that.

Oh great. I thought I knew Ame's enemies were being to quiet. What's he got to say now?

"I think the Burning of Washington made him a bit more unwilling to tell you." Cuba said. What? Why would Cuba know anything about what America's states were like? Did America tell him? But, America's not friends with Cuba, so he couldn't have known, right? Oh god did I mess up my relationship with America so much that he trusted Cuba over me. Am I a horrible brother?

"And how would you know. You don't like America Cuba." North Korea said. "There's no way America told his enemy about his children. He knows we would use it against him."

"Oh no, Cuba knows." Liberia said, "So does Philippines."

Cuba did know? Oh god, how'd I mess up my relationship with America so badly that he told Cuba and not me. And Philippines knew? I knew Ame was closer to Philippines than he was Cuba, but how could he tell them and not me? Did Dad know, did Mom know, did my brothers know and they just didn't tell me? Did America just not trust me? I failed America then. He should've been able to talk to me, to trust me. New Zealand saw me panicking and reached over to hug me.

"Why...Why would Ame tell Cuba, a country he's not on great terms with, instead of telling, me, or our brothers or Mom or Dad?" I asked, finally sputtering out the question I so desperately wanted an answer for. Why America? How did we lose your trust?

"Because I used to live with America. Even though the Spanish-American War was supposed to give me independence, I didn't technically get independence until 1902. The four years between 1898 and 1902 I lived with America. He's not my dad though." Cuba explained. So America didn't tell him, when they were enemies. I let of a sigh of relief and tears pricked out of my eyes. I wanted to trust my brother, I loved him, but he didn't trust me. Not after we worked together to liberate the Pacific during WW2, not after I let myself become an American corporation (I'm not making that up, by the way. Australia is a US corporation for some weird reason.). I wanted America to trust me, but he didn't.

I failed as a brother.

——————————————————————

France POV

America, mon fils, you could of told me. I know I am not your biological mother, but I would of wanted to know. Did America not trust me, he called me Mom, but was that just fake. He kept so many secrets. Was he taking care of his children okay? Sixty-two is a lot. Was he ignoring his own health to care for them.

Australia seemed to be on the verge of tears. He was obviously heartbroken by the news that America refused to trust us with. New Zealand had a similar look, but did not seem to be about to cry. He was focused on hugging Australia, giving him some form of comfort.

Canada looked furious with himself because of what Cuba mentioned, the Burning of Washington. I wasn't sure what's that was, but both Canada and Britain recognized it. Maybe it was an event that happened during the American Revolution. Britain, on the other hand, looked understanding, as if he accepted that America never told him. Although, considering their history, Britain probably didn't have much hopes from America's trust.

Ireland looked shocked and happy. Ireland and America were close and referred to themselves and Scotland as the 'Rebellious Trio.' He didn't know, he looked just as surprised as the rest of us when Texas barged in, but he doesn't seem to hurt by it. Maybe I'm overthinking this, but no one has given us a clear answer on why America didn't tell us, although maybe that's just because its a question for America, not for his kids.

"Liberia, how difficult is it for mon fils to take care of you? He still remembers to take care of himself as well, oui?" I asked, wanting to make sure that mon fils wasn't hurting himself by trying to take on this burden alone.

"He is excellent at taking care of us, making sure to keep us alive, which trust me is a lot harder than it sounds. Even if Dad isn't home, the Thirteen, Vermont and DC watch over everyone and keeps major emergencies from breaking out." Liberia began to answer, before being cut off by Britain and Canada.

"Vermont?"

"Thirteen? Were America and Thirteen Colonies different people?"

Liberia and Palau laughed. Micronesia and NATO put their heads in their hands. Marshall Islands and Cuba rolled their eyes.

"The Thirteen are what the original states have been nicknamed. Baba and the Thirteen Colonies are the same person. It's just easier to say that than Delaware, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, New Jersey, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Maryland, and so on." Marshall Islands explained. That makes sense. I wonder if there are any other nicknames for large groups of states?

"What about Vermont? Is he the same person that was the Vermont Republic? He was mon ami (My friend)." Canada asked. I remember Canada telling me about him. Vermont Republic and Canada were very good friends, they both enjoyed making maple syrup and hanging out together. Canada talked about how upset he was when the Vermont Republic became a part of America. How many of America's kids are countries that everyone thought were dead.

How many people did America let others mourn, and refuse to tell them that their loved ones were alive? How many and why?

"Yes, he is. Most responsible out of all of the former countries that became states. Vermont can get the others to listen if he needs to, which is great because Cali and Tex never help even though they were former countries and should know how to be responsible. Hawaii does do a good job of getting us islands to play nice with everyone else." Micronesia explained.

"And to finish off your question, France," NATO began to explain, but being called France by him hurt. I was his grand-mère and he called me by my name. Maybe it's because we aren't close as grand-mère and petit fils (grandson), but it hurt, a lot.

"Dad does do a pretty good job at taking care of himself, aside for one thing. He never remembers to sleep. He gets home, hangs out with all the kids and then we eat dinner, hang out afterward, you know the drill. After everyone goes to bed, which is like 11pm, then he works on his paperwork. He gets so much of it that he normally does it till 3am, but that's if he's lucky. If there's some emergency in his country, like now, he gets it done at 5am. By then it's already to late to fall asleep. He also has insomnia, so even when he does get the chance to sleep, he normally can't." NATO finished explaining.

I put my hand over my mouth. Oh mon pauvre fils (my poor son), working himself to death to care for his children. If only he had told me sooner. I would of marched over and made sure mon fils slept. It's a very horrible habit that I need to help him fix.

"America doesn't sleep?" Germany asked. Germany was a well known workaholic, and due to that, he didn't sleep. This went on until he collapsed twice from exhaustion, he realized not sleeping was bad and he finally managed to get back a regular sleep schedule. If anyone knows how horrible that kind of schedule is for you, it's Germany.

"He does." Palau said, rolling her eyes, "And he last slept yesterday night, so he's not going to collapse anytime soon."

Thank goodness, although hopefully with the reveal of his states, we can get a healthier sleep schedule for America going. We could also see if their is a way we could cut back on his paperwork. Four hours of paperwork is ridiculous. I only get an hour myself. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that America's a union, or his children, but I will not allow mon fils to overwork himself like this.

Germany still looked concerned for America, but didn't ask other question. He seemed to be in deep though, poring over the information we had learned.

"Oh shit." Liberia then muttered.

"Everything good?" Marshall Islands asked. Liberia turned his phone towards him, were you could see it vibrating will a call.

"D's calling me. I'm fucking dead."

———————————————————————-

New Zealand POV

I had been told a lot about America before I met him. Dad would go on angry and hurt rants about how America was a traitor that didn't care about family. Canada told me how America was stubborn and put his people's needs above his own, even if it hurt him.

When Canada came home after the Burning of York I was furious. Canada had always talked highly of him, but he just ignores that and attacks him? When Washington burned, I wasn't upset. When Canada came back home talking about how he had fixed his relationship with America, I was skeptic. He had been betrayed and attacked and he still forgave him? I thought it was just Canada being naïve and nice.

I met America during World War 1, he just showed up with troops and weapons and walked over to Canada and said "Where's Britain? I've got to prove him wrong." America never tried to hurt Canada because he was Canada. He was being hurt by Dad and lashed out at Canada as a result. America did everything he could to protect Canada during that war. Thats when I finally realized America wasn't a traitor, he was just hurting. So I decided to do everything I could to get America to fix his relationships with the rest of the family.

By the end of World War 1, I had gotten America to un disown Uncle Scotland, Uncle Ireland and Uncle Wales. And at the end of World War 2 he had un disowned Dad and Uncle England.

America's always been overprotective of people he's cared about. So the fact that he kept his states secret wasn't a surprise. He has a lot of enemies who would use the states against him. The fact he kept the states secret from us, his family was surprising. Especially from Canada, who had always been America's closest confident. It hurt a lot.

But who was D and why did Liberia seem to be afraid of them.

"Should I answer?" Liberia asked.

"Aet (yes) you idiot! D's only going to get madder if you ignore it." Marshall responded. Liberia answered the phone and put in on speaker.

"LIBERIA!" a female voice roared out of the phone, causing Australia to flinch in my arms.

"Hey D. You're on speaker." He responded.

"Liberia, explain why you though it was a good idea to tell the countries about your siblings?" The voice, D, said much more calmly this time, although you could still hear a lot of anger in her voice.

"I didn't say anything. Texas did it." Liberia responded. Which is technically true, I guess, although it seems Liberia paid Texas to do it. I guess I should thank him. If it wasn't for Liberia, I wouldn't know I'm an Uncle, and I would of lived in blissful happiness not knowing my brother was hiding an enormous secret from me, from his family.

"Liberia. Everyone knows you paid him off. That's not like you. And Texas hates getting involved in politics outside the Union, so how'd you get him to do it." D questioned. Liberia smiled and opened his mouth to speak before being cut off by Côte d'Ivoire.

"Liberia, who is that?" She questioned, tilting her head to the side.

"Oh, its District of Columbia, better known as Washington DC. And D, you forgot that our brother is Illinois, the master of paying people off." Liberia answered for both women. Washington DC? America's capital had a countryhuman? If that was true, does that mean that all the capitals have one?

"Whose that Liberia?" Washington DC asked.

"It's Côte d'Ivoire." Liberia responded, "Like I said you're on speaker."

"How can the capital have a countryhuman? Does this mean our capitals have countryhumans? Is this another secret you are hiding from us?" China angrily accused.

"No. I'm a countryhuman because I'm a federal district, not the actual capital, although the capital rests in my borders and gives me my name." Washington DC explained.

"How'd you even find out already? Is Dad home?" Liberia asked DC.

"Yeah, he came home and filled the Thirteen, Vermont and I in on what happened. He talking with the adopted ones right now, asking if they want to come into tomorrows meetings to meet their bio families." DC answered. All the other countries started looking intensely and the phone in Liberia's hand. We had all seen Mexico's reunion with her son, and with the way both DC and America had worded it, Texas wasn't the only adopted state.

"That's cool. I'm guessing Alaska said no." Liberia commented. I guess Alaska must of had a bad relationship with whoever his biological parent was.

"Actually he said yes." DC responded. Liberia raised an eyebrow.

"Really. His dad neglected him and his brother was, well you know, and he still wants to meet the rest of his family. Got to give him credit Alaska's tough." Liberia said. I wonder who Alaska was. I knew he had to be one of my nephews, but I wonder who his biological family is. It seems like Liberia doesn't like them that much.

"Anyway, I have to go now, Liberia, you should probably get over here. Dad said he wants to lay out the ground rules for the states and he wants you, NATO, Palau, Marshall and Micro to know them so you can keep them from breaking them if you every see it happening." DC explained.

"Got it. Bye." Liberia said before hanging up, then, turning to us he says. "Well, we have to go. Bye"

Liberia turned around and left, followed by his siblings.

"I don't think we're doing to get anything done." UN said, waving their hand, "Meetings over for the day. You're dismissed."

Oh god what a meeting this was. And we're going to meet some of my nieces and nephews tomorrow, so I have a feeling America being a father and a union isn't going to be the biggest surprise so far.

—————————————————————————————

Canada POV

America is a union. America has kids. And according to Cuba, the Burning of Washington is the main reason why America never told me. I was confused by this answer at first. America and I had gotten over the Burnings of York and Washington. Then Liberia received a call and it all made sense.

Washington DC had a countryhuman. I set fire to a child, my niece. I burned a child to get revenge against her father.

But didn't America do the same to you. Payback is payback. A dark voice whispered in my head. Non! Don't think that way. The Burning of Washington was a mistake. I should of never gone along with Père's plan of revenge. I should of never burned Washington. Maybe if I hadn't, America would of allowed me to be an Uncle to his kids sooner.

It's all my fault. I burned any chance of winning America's trust when I burned Washington. I wonder if Washington DC would want to meet me, even after I burned he. I don't think so. I'll she'd see me as is a monster.

But you are one. You attacked a child. America hadn't been a country for long. How old you think she was, 20, 40, 60? She would have been young. The dark voice whispered again.

"Canada, Est-ce que ça va?" (Are you okay?" I heard Maman asked. I shook my head and gave Maman a hug before I started crying. Thankfully, most of the other countries had left and it was just Maman, Père, Uncle Ireland, Australia and New Zealand.

"Maman, J'ai attaqué Washington DC et aidé mon père à le brûler. DC est un paysan, j'ai attaqué l'un des enfants américains et je l'ai brûlée. Pourquoi l'Amérique m'a-t-elle pardonné cela? Je suis un horrible frère." (I attacked Washington DC and helped father burn it down. DC is a countryhuman, I attacked one of America's kids and burned her. Why did America forgive me for that. I'm a horrible brother.) I sobbed into Maman's arms.

I had always felt so guilty for the Burning of Washington, especially seeing how panicked and hurt America was, but now I learned that I had hurt, burned a child and America still somehow forgave me and tried to fix our relationship. I always thought we were so close, but now, after learning about America's kids, I don't think so.

But he was right in keeping them a secret from me. I'm just going to end up hurting them again. I hurt DC during the Burning of Washington, but how many other kids did I hurt? How many of my nieces and nephews did I hurt during the War of 1812?

"Mon fils, Tu n'as pas un horrible frère. L'Amérique vous a pardonné parce que c'est une personne gentille." (You are not a horrible brother. America forgave you because he is a kind person.) Maman said. I nodded sadly. I knew Maman was probably right, but that didn't stop my guilt.

I was Canada. Everyone called me the world's nicest country, but I attacked a child. If I was America, I would of never told me about my kids. I wouldn't of forgiven me either. How could America? How can he forgive people the way he does?

"Are you okay Canada?" Uncle Ireland asked. I nodded.

"I just feel so guilty. I burned down Washington DC and there is a countryhuman for DC, so I attacked America's child. And she was vey young when that happened. So I just don't understand why America forgave me for the Burning of Washington." I confessed, wiping away tears.

"You're not the only one who burned down Washington, Canada. I'm just as guilty as you are. But America didn't tell anyone, even people he knew and trusted, but hadn't wronged him in the past. I don't think his secrecy is based around past wrongs." Père said. I nodded, unsure of what to say. If America's secrecy isn't based around past wrongs. Than why didn't he tell us.

Why didn't we know?

————————————————————————————

United Kingdom's POV

History will show you that America and I have always butted heads and had conflicting viewpoints. After his Revolution, he wanted nothing to do with me, and I was so hurt by him declaring independence, what I thought of as a betrayal. I was so stubborn about showing him that he couldn't take care of himself, that he was a child and would be best off in my care.

He proved me wrong. I'm glad he did. America was 169 when he declared independence. He was not a child, far from it and I shouldn't have babied him the way I did. The War of 1812 happened after I foolishly decided to kidnap American sailors into my navy to fuel my war against France, and to get back at America for the Revolution.

That was a horrible mistake. America, unable to turn his fury and anger on me, turned it on his brother, on Canada. Then everything between America and Canada went downhill with the ruins of two burning cities, of two capitals, one burned in foolishness and the other in revenge. It's my fault, not Canada's that Washington and York burned. And its my fault that Canada is here, crying about a mistake he had that was the result of an even bigger one of mine.

"Ireland, we should probably go and inform our brothers of this. America did ask us to bring them to tomorrow's meeting." I said to Ireland. He nodded. France looked up from were she was comforting Canada and nodded.

"Go ahead and do that. I'll meet back at home." She said. I nodded before walking out of the room within Ireland.

"America has kids is not what I expected to learn today. And sixty-two? Why do you think he never told anyone?" Ireland asked. There's the question everyone's been asking, but hasn't gotten an answer to. I don't think I know why he didn't tell France or Canada, but I know why he didn't tell me.

After all, we have a history of bad blood. If my children were secret, I wouldn't share their existence with former enemies, even if they have proven themselves to be loyal. I wouldn't risk it.

"True be told, I haven't the faintest idea why he didn't tell anyone. I do know why he didn't tell me. After the Revolution and the War of 1812, I hurt him and probably some of his children as well. I think he wanted to tell someone, but the states didn't want him to. Either that or he was trying to protect them." I explained.

"You need to stop blaming yourself for everything that happening involving America's Revolution. You weren't the only person who was hurt. America disowned us, said he hated us and then tried to kill you and England." Ireland pointed out.

"True." I replied. We got to our car and Ireland got into the drivers seat.

"I can drive Ireland, its not a problem." I said.

"You need to think things over. I'll drive." He responded. Knowing that arguing would go nowhere, I nodded and got into the passenger side. Ireland pulled the car out and began thinking over the reveal of America states and other children. Texas looked the same as the last time I saw him and I wondered if any old territories were still around.

I remember Spanish Florida became British East Florida when he was under my possession, along with a new countryhuman that appeared for British West Florida. I gave them back to Spanish Empire after the Revolution, and I always wondered which one remained as the countryhuman for Spanish Florida. Then Spanish Empire sold Florida to America, which means one of the Florida's is alive and America's adopted kid.

"We're here. This is going to be some very awkward second hand news to bring." Ireland commented. I nodded. We walked up the front to the house before entering.

"Hey guys." Wales said from the couch where he was reading a book.

"Hello Wales. Do you know where Scotland, England and North are? Something...new was revealed during today's meeting and we'd prefer to tell you all at once." I asked. Wales nodded.

"They're outside. I can go get them." He said.

"If you don't mind." Wales got up and stretched.

"Not at all." He said before walking outside to get the rest of our brothers. I sighed and rubbed my forehead. This was going to be very hard to explain. A few moments passed before Wales came back.

"Hello Ireland, Britain. Wales said something happened during the meeting?" England asked as he came in.

"Yes. Do you remember Texas?" I asked. Scotland, England and Wales nodded while Northern Ireland sighed.

"This is something that happened before I was born, isn't it." He said in a resigned tone.

"Yes it is, sorry, anyway Texas was a country that broke away from Mexico and became his own nation for nine years before letting himself be annexed into America." Ireland explained.

"Well what does that have to do with what happened today? Texas is dead." Scotland said.

"Texas is not dead he walked into today's meeting." I responded.

"WHAT?"

"Yeah. Mexico got real teary before she remembered Texas was annexed into America and started yelled at him for not telling her that her son was alive. When UN asked how Texas was still alive, he told everyone that America was a union and when he took off his sunglasses, he had black eyes." Ireland explained. My brothers wore the same shock expressions that every at the meeting had when they found out.

"And because he's a union, his states, territories and his capital, which he called a federal district, all have countryhumans. NATO, Liberia, Marshall Island, Micronesia and Palau all said that America was their father alongside being the father of the states." I finished.

"America's a union and a dad?" England asked.

"Yes. He left before we could question him further, but it seems the only people outside of his children who knew were Cuba and Philippines, because both of the had been part of America before. He wants you guys to come into the meeting tomorrow, because he says he's bringing in all of his adopted kids."

"I'm coming." Scotland said, with nods of agreement from Wales, England and Northern Ireland.

America's family was going to be showing up to this reunion. I only hope this doesn't go badly. I'm worried about America's enemies getting back at him by using the states.

#secret states by weird #weird’s wattpad stories #countryhumans #statehumans #writing

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tyrannuspitch · 3 years

Text

been reading abt this one genetic study and it is rlly interesting but also bc using modern genetics to infer stuff abt history is something i'm Aware you have to be Cautious of it does kind of result in me having Knowledge that i don't feel entirely comfortable thinking of as Knowledge. which is a v weird state of mind. esp when some of the original phrasing was already really cautiously vague.

(cut to ramble abt boring things i am in no way qualified to teach)

like okay time to ramble: i found it bc as part of a long slowburn identity crisis i got rlly frustrated with what little i know of history & not having a clue where to place myself in it - like, england has had so many different waves of migration and changes of regime, and also aristocracy-focused history isn't always good at even distinguishing between those, and if we don't even know which of those groups we're descended from... do we know anything??? (eg: fucking druids wld be talking abt The Old Ways and i'd be sitting here like. okay even if you weren't glorified wiccans, are they "the Old Ways"? are they??? is that our history or someone else's entirely? like, literally, i don't have any particular interest in doing this, but if i theoretically WERE to try and return to the religion of my prechristian ancestors, should i reconstruct druidry or heathenry or smthn else entirely?)

SO i basically wanted to ask how much, if at all, are the modern english descended from the various groups who have lived here. Who The Fuck Actually Are We

and i did basically get a cautious answer! (after finding better scicomm than the fucking guardian, which didn't even take enough care to clearly separate "english and cornish" from "british". fuck the guardian.) the actual conclusions we can pretty safely draw re: this question are:

1. the modern english have a v high level of similarity with other peoples of the uk (the study said "british isles" but roi was not counted), much of which appears to be v ancient dna, which means the genetic evidence directly contradicts the old theory that the anglo-saxons completely displaced/wiped out the britons of england. which is nice. love when my ancestors do not commit genocide on my other ancestors

2. the genetic "clusters" in england and cornwall showed a significant minority of dna (less as you travel north) theorised to be anglo-saxon - "between 10% and 40%". which, like i was saying, is both Information and Non Information. "congratulations participants, you're helping our understanding of history evolve bc you're def partly descended from the ancient britons but you also appear to have some anglo-saxon ancestry!" "oh cool. how much?" "oh you know... some". i know it doesn't matter in the real world but sjfkflshlk damn historic population geneticists u live like this? (they weren't even saying "25% +/- 15%". didn't even give us an average. just like. somewhere in this range lol)

(okay actually i am in Explaining Mode so here goes. afaict part of the problem is they're not even sure which common ancestry to be counting. only clusters in england/cornwall have any northern german common ancestry, but everyone in the uk has danish common ancestry - BUT the danish dna is significantly higher than average in groups w n.german dna. so the problem is: what's ancient, what's anglo-saxon, could any of it be viking? we just don't know.)

(they might have been able to tell by dating it but idk if they tried. and also some of their other dating was coming out Wonky - eg iirc the n.german dna is mostly dated to abt 300 years after anglo-saxon migration ended. so what's going on? did the two communities just take a v long time to integrate, or is something afoot?)

(also, of course - england is pretty genetically homogenous but there is still Some variety by region in this genetic component so making a sweeping statement abt "the english" is hard.)

3. there is a Mystery ComponentTM that makes up a larger segment than the alleged anglo-saxon dna, is found in england, scotland and northern ireland BUT not wales (so it's not just Basic British Ingredients), and matches northern france? i think they're guessing prehistoric migration for that. idk if they dated it. Hmmmm. ~Mystery DNA~

4. methodological info if you're concerned: they used participants from rural areas whose grandparents had all been born in the 50mile radius from them, so region-specific info should be p trustworthy, and the sample size was over 2000. they also found their "clusters" algorithmically and then plotted them back onto the map, so there shouldn't be confirmation bias there.)

(if i *were* to complain, looking at their map... scotland and wales have some gaps in them. some significant gaps.)

5. smthn we might genuinely be concerned abt in the analysis of these results - are we taking the results from places we know to have a historical migration as more meaningful than those we don't? looking at the results shows me every single cluster has a small but significant portion of common ancestry with modern belgium, maybe 1/12. (i'm looking at blurry pie charts, that's my best guess lol.) no analysis i've read has mentioned it.

on the other hand - idk anything abt the history of belgium but i wld not be at all surprised if their genetics were basically somewhere between germany and france, and we've already discussed both those places.

plus, possibly more relevantly - they DID scan for similarities with various other countries in europe and didn't find them. eg, no signficant/detectable common ancestry with the finnish. so if it's showing up at all, let alone as 10% or more, it's more than just random noise.

so it's knowledge but it's not knowledge but it's /more/ knowledge than not knowledge? yeah. i'm having a great time

6. assorted fun(?) facts for those who made it this far:

-the most unique place genetically they found was orkney (note: there were no participants from shetland), who showed ~25% norwegian ancestry, followed by wales, who as we remember have no Mystery DNA.

-the differences between cornwall and devon were minor, but they were definitely there and they followed modern county line p much perfectly!

-there were two different clusters in northern ireland and the west of scotland, but they DIDN'T break down into ireland vs scotland. it looked more like it might be a highland/lowland gael/gall thing. i don't know if they checked if the n.irish respondents were catholic or protestant but uhh probably better not to all things considered

-no matter how minutely you break down genetic differences, there is a large group covering much of england that is basically homogenous. you can tell genetically which island in orkney someone's from, but you can't tell the difference between people from north yorkshire and people from kent.

okay this has been a poorly explained ramble if you'd like to read the damn thing yourself it's this: https://peopleofthebritishisles.web.ox.ac.uk/population-genetics

nb that is their website for laypeople, i've looked at a few different interpetations of this but i haven't looked at the actual paper (yet? dk if i can be bothered going deeper. we'll see)

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