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more-quiverfull-sims · 3 years

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A Page from Evangeline Gorman’s Diary

Dear Diary,

You likely know my family, but you definitely don’t know me. My name is Evangeline May Gorman, #7 of 17 children. Here’s a picture of me as a little kid, surrounded by other toddlers...as always.

Some kids like being one of many, but I never have, really. I mean, being part of a big family has its fun parts. And I have siblings I’m close to...my twin and I, Cam, have always been best friends.

Still though, it’s hard to be known as #7 your whole life, not just by acquaintances, but by your own parents. Thank God for the piano. That’s what’s always saved me. Back in our old house, which was really cramped and required me and a bunch of my siblings to sleep in a renovated barn, it was my solace.

Me and Cam.

That’s me as a baby, chagrined over a new sibling. It’s probably Helen or Patience based on the year. (Yes, my Mom put little girls in blue bassinets...even though she criticizes my brother’s wife for doing the same thing!) Helen and Patience are the two girls just below me, and they’ve always been much better Quiverfull daughters. They never complain about all the cooking and cleaning we have to do. Sometimes when we’re alone, I try to hint that I might want more out of my life than what our parents envision for us...but I just get these weird, blank stares in return. The only people I can talk to are Hopie and Cam, and now Hopie’s married. I am really going to miss Cam this summer, but he’s a boy. He has a lot more freedom than I do at home. He understands why I decided to leave.

Me playing piano at our first house.

A few months ago, a famous musician named Gertrude Jones Carmello noticed me playing piano in church. She said I was really talented and eventually offered to train me full-time over the summer. I was so surprised, but even more surprised when my Mom agreed. I shouldn’t have been, though. My Mom would do anything to get noticed by the Carmellos. They’re like royalty in our circle...they’ve performed at the White House, been on t.v., and they have a ton of money...way more than my parents have. Mrs. Bennet (from Pride and Prejudice) would say it was a most beneficial connection.

Actually, it’s not so bad living here so far. Maybe it’s because this is where the Carmellos live...and there’s only six of them!

I live in a large suite in the basement next to the Carmello’s built-in piano studio. They have another piano in the main part of the house, but this one is used exclusively for lessons. I do feel a little lonely down there sometimes, which is why I decided to get a diary. I need someone to keep me company after seventeen years of living with eighteen other people.

Me practicing piano.

Mrs. Gertrude (as all her pupils call her) is a tough mentor, but she’s fair. I actually really like her. We train for about three hours a day five days a week, sometimes more if we get really in the zone. I love practicing, and I can tell that I’m improving by leaps and bounds while living here.

Another thing I should mention, since I could never tell any of my sisters about it...I really like the Carmello’s oldest son, Augustine. (I call him Auggie now!) I don’t just mean I like him in that way, though there’s no denying he’s gorgeous. I also just...like him. He’s friendly and fun to be around, and he actually asks me things about myself...things like what kind of music I like and if I want to be a famous musician like his Mom. Except for Cam, nobody has asked me that kind of thing before. My Mom always told me that piano is an “idol” and would faint if I ever told her I want a career! I still remember how she would keep me from playing piano to punish me when I didn’t follow rules...which was a lot, because there were so many. Skirts always covering the knee, not keeping a joyful countenance, not cheerfully obeying the first time...ugh. I’m glad I don’t have to worry about that here.

Auggie and I like to chat sometimes when I have time off from my lessons. We tell jokes and talk about music (he’s quite a talented musician). The only problem is that his Mom is ALWAYS there...

Like...

Always.

I guess I can’t blame her. The last thing she needs is a teenaged romance on her hands. I mean, for us, romance is totally forbidden before you’re married. You’re allowed to court, but only closely supervised. We’re not even allowed to talk about boys that way, not even with our own sisters. Auggie’s sister, Giada, was a little surprised when I told that. There’s varying levels of extreme in our religion, and although Giada still isn’t allowed to kiss her future husband until they’re married, she can talk about boys with our sister.

But my parents always have to be the most extreme about everything.

I wish that just once, I could have a real conversation with somebody...one that some adult isn’t hovering over. But that’s not likely to happen here...or at my parents’ house...or anywhere, until I’m married.

Oh well. That’s it for today, Diary.

#thegormans #quiverfull sims #fundie sims #sims 4 #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 legacy challenge

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ilyamatic · 3 years

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Echoes: In Another Life

Hey y'all! I'm bouncing around @arcana-echoes to bring you a glimpse into these Ayitians' alternate lives:

Tiny hands dug into the rich soil. It was days like this that Andrico remembers that he could be happy. It was hard otherwise. Sure he was a hero, damn near a national treasure but the people’s adoration did little to quell the unrest in his heart. Almost 13 years after the war the smell of blood still lingered wherever he went. His fallen men still visited in his dreams, angry and rotting. He should have done more. He could have done more. If he wanted to win so badly he should have sacrificed himself. Instead he led his men to slaughter while he lived the cushy life. No matter how tormented he lived it, how unfulfilled. A life full of politics and policy when his soul craved sweat and soil.

But out there in his garden that didn’t matter. All that mattered there was him, his little Fabienne, and the sunshine. Her wide gapped-toothed smile could chase away his most stubborn demons. It was a shame that she could never stay.

“Are you ready to clean up for lunch Fabi?” He asked as he pet her hair.

The little girl began to pout. “But Papa, you promised me we would plant all the flowers today!”

“Your mother would be very cross if I let you go hungry.”

Not that she wouldn’t find something else to be cross about, he thought bitterly.

“You don’t usually stop for anything when you’re in the garden,” Fabienne argued as she crossed her arms.

“Haven’t you heard Fabi? Se yon neg andeyo mwe ye!”

“Maman says that you are a country bumpkin.”

Andrico could feel his eyebrow twitch.

“Good thing she found a nice city boy to marry, hm?”

Fabienne made no comment as she stuck her hands back into the dirt. He should press harder, be a little more authoritative. But everyone, including the girl in question, knew that Fabienne had him wrapped around her little finger. There was no point in fighting it. All she had to do was look up at him with those coffee black eyes, eyes that were so like her mother’s, and he was a goner. Moreover, he wanted to pretend just a little longer. He didn’t want to be General El-Saieh. He didn’t want the nightmares, or the panic attacks, or the failed marriage, or the strained relationships with everyone around him. He wanted the sweat and soil and for his little daughter to remember her papa as a man who loved the earth and the people on it. Who kissed booboos and chased away monsters and sang her to sleep on the nights she stayed with him. So Andrico kissed the top of her head and handed her another bulb.

Lunch could wait a moment or two.

She should head left. There is nothing stopping her from going left. It wasn’t like there was anything worth staying here for. She was tired. Tired of the expectations, the lessons, the everything. She should leave her teacher behind, go left, and see where life takes her.

Jasna took a few steps and stopped. She could go left.

But what about my family?

Could she live with not seeing them again for years? Possibly ever?

The path she was on was irritating at best, stifling at it’s worse. But it was sure. Jasna knew where she was going, where she would end up. The idea of starting over was tempting. All her life all she ever wanted was the option to choose. And there it was, presenting itself as a caravan heading to a city called Vesuvia.

She could go left.

“Jasna,” her tutor Frantz called out from their wagon. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” she answered. “Just needed to stretch my legs.”

With that she turned on her heels and headed right.

Jai, Andrés, and Marie-Carmel under the cut

They watched as the shoreline got smaller. The Augustine Regime had fallen Their uncle was dead, beheaded by a ‘young upstart who just learned to wipe his own ass.’ Jai felt no sympathy, no remorse. They did not bat an eyelash as their family uprooted themselves in the middle of the night, fleeing onto a boat towards hopefully friendlier lands.

It’s what they deserved really. Their uncle for being an absolute tyrant, their parents complicit to the horrors, and them… and them for their silence. But not any longer. No, they refused to hold their tongue ever again.

They could hear light footsteps come up behind them. Their mother called out a name that never fit, never belonged to them. They squared their shoulders.

“Jai,” they called back.

They could feel their mother’s confusion.

“What?”

“My name is Jai,” they continued. “That person you’re looking for is not here. My name is Jai, I go by they, and you will address me as such.”

Their mother walked up and stood next to them. From the corner of their eye Jai could see their mother’s exasperation, anger, and grief.

“Must you do this now?” She practically spat.

“Yes. If not now, then when?”

They could feel her eyes bore into the side of their face.

“I have lost my home,” her mother said quietly. “ I have lost my home, my friends, and my country. Must I lose my daughter too?”

Jai could feel giggles and tears war in their gut. They could argue how their mother has not lost her child at all, that they were there, it was just that she had refused to see them for who they were. Jai could laugh in her face because all that her mother mourned was gained on the backs of a suffering nation. Instead they turned to look her in the eye and parroted her words from years ago.

“You cannot lose something you never had, cheri.”

The High Priestess bathed the infant in a tub full of hibiscus petals and fragrant oils. Blessing babies was meant for the acolytes, a routine job regarded beneath her station. However, Andrés could hardly find it in herself to give two shits.

As the human embodiment of the All Mothers, was she not to embody them? Was she not to walk in humility and kindness? To treat everyone with respect? If the All Mothers hadn’t hidden their spirits away in their realm Andrés would find the sisters that came before her and give them a tongue lashing. As if any task at the temple was beneath her. As she would ever pass up giving out The Mothers love. Idiots, the whole lot of them. But those were worries for another day.

Andrés gently wrapped the squirming baby in a soft linen cloth and handed them back to their parents.

“Go, my children. The love and the light of your Mothers will see you through to the end of your days.”

Teary eyes looked up to her gratefully. Often she wondered what people saw when they looked at her. Did they see a living goddess? Did they see power? Did they see The Divine Feminine in her?

Or did they see her, Andrés? A young woman thrust into adulthood too soon? Someone without all the answers but who tries her best for everyone? Do they see her regret?

“High Priestess,” an acolyte called from the doorway of the shrine. “The next family is ready.”

Andrés nodded as the previous family left, praises to the All Mothers and their Chosen Daughter heavy on their lips. She stood tall as the next family walked in, took their tiny baby in her arms with confidence, and began her blessings. In the presence of her children, there was no room for doubt.

“I love you,” he said as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. Marie-Carmel smiled lightly, enjoying the sun and the fresh air. She rested her head against her husband’s shoulder. It was a beautiful summer day. Her dear husband decided it would be the perfect day for a carriage ride. It was nice. It was romantic. She could not stop the words from spilling out.

“I love you too,” she said quietly and today it felt like she meant it.

It was terrible, she knew. Martine was not a bad man, not by a long shot. He was kind, generous, and smart. He was what anyone would want in a spouse. It was what she wanted in a spouse. And yet.

She does her best not to think of the loves of her past, the gentle Claudine or the funny Francois. They were all kind, generous, and smart but Mimi always found them lacking. And now Marie-Carmel was there, married to a man her Mimi adored but she found herself loving only on occasion.

Marie-Carmel does her best to not think of the notice on the community board.

Best Divorce Lawyer in Town!

Jean-Jacques Deroleaux Esq.

5555 Gardenia Street, Port Joyeux

Get your appointment today!

Her ‘friends’, all people of high society as her Mimi intended, were properly scandalized. She played the part, titterting behind an open fan at the depravity of it all but in her heart she wondered.

Her Mimi would be so disappointed! She would lose her friends! And Martine, poor sweet Martine. Oh he would be so heartbroken!

And yet.

Marie-Carmel rested her head on her husband’s shoulder, the flyer burning a hole in her dress all the while.

#the arcana #fan apprentice #the arcana mc #andrico the soft chaos boy #jasna the reluctant magician #jai the rebel #andrés the chosen one #marie carmel the runaway #arcana eotp #arcana echoes #we are in our feelings tonight lads

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crossyourheart-twff · 4 years

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Chapter 1

Edit: Here’s a link to Ao3 in case the visibility is bad:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23812213/chapters/57212440

Edit 2: Edits and formatting has been fixed!

The Mirror asked for a name. It was a simple enough question under normal circumstances. The problem was, these weren’t normal circumstances, therefore the person standing before it had no idea what to say. Not when the Mirror was talking, not with a room full of robed strangers craning in for a better view, and definitely not when a name could reveal so much…

“State thy name,” the Mirror droned again.

A name.

The figure considered giving a fake one, but if the mirror was magic, would it know? Would it sense the lie and expose them for what they truly were? The seconds tick-tick-ticked away at the audience’s patience. It was late and the already antsy students couldn’t wait forever. Even the more dignified ones that stood to one side of the mirror shuffled about. One rolled his eyes, another examined the moon out the window. State thy name…

Thy name...

Huh. Now that’s an idea.

The figure before the mirror cleared its throat. In a voice they hoped sounded appropriate, they answered, “Parker.”

There. Their name.

Their surname.

One of the students by the Mirror gusted out a sigh of relief. Parker suspected it came from one of the shorter ones, the red head, perhaps.

“Parker,” the Mirror repeated, not a hint of suspicion- or of any emotion, really- passed across it’s pallid face as it spoke, “The nature of thy soul is,” the Mirror closed its eyes. Parker didn’t breathe. The chamber was so quiet, the only sound was the creak of wooden benches as the other students leaned forward. At last, the Mirror opened its soulless eyes, “unknown to me.”

A wave of chatter broke through the hall. Parker swallowed. This couldn’t be good.

The Mirror was not finished. It spoke louder as if to compete with the flurry of whispered speculation, “I sense no magic from this one. There is no color, no shape. They are not suited to any dormitory.”

No magic.

Well, Parker could have told it that.

In a rush of green flames, the Mirror’s face vanished and the glass went dark. Whispers moved throughout the hall, the sound made the skin on Parker’s neck prickle. It was like sound the wind made through a palm tree before a thunderstorm, only much less comforting. What happened now? Parker’s thoughts went into overdrive, searching the memories of the last half hour to see if, somehow, they contained the solution to their current problem.

It started with the fire. There’d been a burst of flames so hot they’d singed the hair on Parker’s arms… Wait no. That wasn’t quite right. The fire wasn’t the problem, it was the demon cat. What was his name again? Ah, right. Grim. He was, after all, responsible for the explosion that knocked the lid off the coffin In which Parker woke. He’d made sure they were well aware of that. Of course, it wasn’t quite as shocking as the fact the demon cat could talk. Oh! and what’s more, he had the audacity to demand Parker give him clothes!

“Give me your uniform,” Grim crouched low on Parker’s stomach, “or I’ll roast you!” The fire at his ears flickered a brighter shade of blue as if to emphasize his threat. A scream tore through Parker’s throat as they shoved the creature away before sprinting out of the room.

Then again, Grim didn’t have all the blame…

“No magic!”

Parker snapped out of the memories as a masked man strode down the aisle to the dais where the mirror stood. Headmaster Dire Crowley, right on cue.

“Ahh, there you are!” He’d said just as Parker ducked behind one of the stone columns that lined the outer walkway. The stranger didn’t look any different than an average man, but what got Parker’s attention was the crow mask that hid the top half of his face. Like a fancy plague doctor. “I thought I saw someone come through here. Are you one of our new students? Honestly. The entrance ceremony is already well underway! You should be there with the rest of the first years and look at you! You’re not even properly-“ He rounded the column and stopped at once, “Oh. Oh, dear.”

Back in the present, Crowley reached the top of the dais.

“There is absolutely no way you were meant to be collected by a black carriage. Since the founding of this institution, there has not once been an error with student selection! How in the name of the Great Seven has a non-gifted-?” Someone in the crowd coughed and Crowley turned to the waiting students. As if suddenly remembering the sea of shocked faces gaping at him, he straightened. If they hadn’t known any better, Parker could have sworn he’d almost let the truth slip in front of the entire school.

“Where are we going?” the hem of Parker’s new robe dragged along the cobblestone path. The bird man had done something with his hand (magic?) and transformed Parker’s casual attire into, well, the robe.

“To the entrance ceremony, of course. Weren’t you listening?” The birdman didn’t take his eyes off the path ahead.

“Entrance ceremony…” Parker had to jog a bit to keep up his long gait, “Where am I, exactly?”

This time the birdman did glance over, “Still dazed from the trip? Very well. This,” he gestured to the building around them, “is Night Raven College, the most prestigious school of magic this side Twisted Wonderland,” even through his mask, Parker sensed his pointed look as he added, “for young men.”

For young men… oh. Oh.

The birdman must have caught the understanding as it settled across Parker’s face, “Now you’re getting it.”

”Then why am I here?”

“Ah, now that’s the question, isn’t it?” he said, “ I’m afraid if you haven’t a clue, then neither do I.”

Parker almost tripped on the hem of the robe. With a huff, they hitched it to up to their ankle and caught up to the birdman, “So, who are you, then?”

“I am Dire Crowley,” the birdman gestured to the campus around them, “headmaster of this fine establishment.”

They stopped in front of another set of doors. Where the entrance of the library was massive, these doors were a more accessible size, with intricate details carved along the post. Parker managed to catch a scarab beetle and lion’s head amongst the ornamentation before Headmaster Crowley regained their attention.

“Now, keep your hood up and stay here while I wrap up the ceremony. Soon as the students have vacated the hall, I’ll come fetch you,” he instructed.

“Okay?” Parker frowned, “Why can’t I just go inside? What was the point of,” she gestured to her robe, “this?”

“Because,” Crowley said," if a young la-“

The doors to the ceremonial hall opened then. Another man, this one unmasked and much bigger than Headmaster Crowley stood in the thresh hold.

“Headmaster,” the man seemed relieved to see Crowley, he opened his mouth to speak when Parker caught his eye, “Ah! Looks like we missed one! Come on, then! We just finished the dormitory assignments.” The man grabbed Parker by the arm and dragged who he thought was a student inside.

Crowley straightened his mask and addressed the room, “Well. It seems we’ve had a rather eventful evening. Consider today’s entrance ceremony over. Students, please follow your dorm leaders to your quarters. I expect to see everyone ready for lessons in the morning.”

No one moved despite the dismissal.

“Not a minute to be wasted,” the headmaster clapped his hands, “to your dorms at once!”

“Yes, Headmaster Crowley,” the red headed dorm leader said, then went on to lead his dorm out of the hall. Parker ducked away as whispers washed over the room. Row by row, the students left, each trailing behind one of the figures that stood at the dais. Parker didn’t dare meet any of their gazes. A minute passed as they waited to be sure the room was empty. After all of that, they couldn’t risk slipping up now. Once they were both certain they were the only two left in the hall, Parker ripped the hood away.

Her long hair tumbled free down her back.

“What was that?” she cried.

Headmaster Crowley shook his head, “There goes my Diamond Crown Academy theory… Well. You have my sincerest apologies for the spectacle. I can assure you, it was never my intention to subject you to such humiliation. Either way, I’m sure you’re ready to be sent home. If you’ll just step in front of the Dark Mirror.”

Parker did as she was told. After everything she’d been through, she was ready to go. Never mind how she ended up in that coffin in the school’s basement. Never mind where that stupid demon-cat had scampered off to. Soon she would be home, Crowley wouldn’t have to worry about the consequences of a girl winding up in a magical all-boys school, and she could chalk this whole thing up to a bad pizza dream.

“Excellent,” Crowley nodded once, “Now, picture your home clearly in your mind.”

Eyes shut tight, Parker called up every detail of her apartment, from her roommate’s theatre mugs to the chipped paint on the bottom corner of their front door. It was all there. Now it was Crowley’s turn to address the mirror. In the same tone of voice he used on his students, he raised his hands.

“Dark Mirror!”

The Mirror sparked to life in a rush of green flames. Crowley continued once the face reappeared, “Guide this one back to where she belongs!”

Parker braced herself for the room to spin, for some wind, or a free fall. When nothing happened, she heard Crowley clear his throat.

“Once more!” he commanded, “Guide this one-“

“I cannot,” the Mirror interrupted.

What.

“The place where she belongs is nowhere in our world,” the Mirror said, “Her home does not exist.”

Parker’s face turned cold as her blood drained away. Her home did not exist? What did that even mean? Crowley frowned, a finger tapped his chin as he admitted, “This is quite unusual indeed. Tell me. Where exactly do you come from?”

Parker couldn’t help but feel like he was suddenly suspicious of her. As if she somehow had anything to do with this! “St. Augustine.”

The headmaster didn’t move. In fact, Parker swore he didn’t even blink underneath his mask. She tried again.

“I’m from St. Augustine,” she said, “Florida?”

Still, Crowley did not respond.

“In the United States?”

A beat. Two beats. Three.

“I have never heard of such a place,” Crowley said at last.

Something cold shot through Parker’s chest, “You’ve never heard of the United States?”

And that was when, for the first time since she awoke, Parker truly felt afraid.

Well, except for the stuff with the demon-cat. He was terrifying.

One important note! Diamond Crown Academy is used with permission from @phoenix-manga, it is NOT my creation but it IS there’s!

This is a little slow, but it should pick up in the next chapter! Thanks for reading!

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quillreflections · 4 years

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Title: Rival Destinies

Chapter: Augustine Sycamore [1]

Series: Pokemon

Pairing: multiple/reader

Disclaimer: This is a collection; each boy gets his own chapters with his own running storyline, and they don’t intersect. It fits more into Quotev format than tumblr format.

We are together now, friends forever now.

You rub your eyes once more, trying to stifle another yawn. While your work can certainly be tiring, it's interesting and can be fun, too; the question you're trying to answer is one you've been curious about since even before you were a trainer, so being able to pursue your curiosity professionally is an enjoyable luxury.

The sound of your clattering keyboard is the only noise in the air for a long while- you thought you were the only one left in the office yet again, burning the Lampent oil as you're wont to do. Eventually, though, footsteps begin echoing up the stairs; you glance to the office door as it swings open, but since you've been staring at the computer screen for so long, your eyes haven't adjusted yet. You hear his voice before you can see his face.

"Ah, mademoiselle, you're still here! Your dedication is admirable, mon petite chou." Professor Sycamore steps over to the one window in your small office, raising the blinds for a moment. "As you can see, it's gotten dark; while I appreciate your work, it's time for a break for the evening, non?"

You smile at your boss. "Ah, sorry! I know I keep going into overtime, but I feel like I'm really close to a breakthrough!" He returns your smile with an equally-brilliant one, leaning over your shoulder to read your computer screen.

"Oui, the Fairy type; why did it first develop in Kalos? What causes the typing differences between the same species of Pokémon found here and in other regions? A fantastic mystery, darling."

He wanders over to the desks used by Dexio and Sina on their rare office days, quickly rearranging the files left open and shutting off those computers. From there, he moves to grab your coat from the rack, clearly holding it up for you to put on. His smile is gentle, but his eyes are firm.

"It's a mystery that can wait for another sunrise, mademoiselle."

You finally relent, straightening up your work station before letting him help you into your coat. The two of you check the offices once more as you exit the building, and then you're finally out on the streets of Lumiose.

As the professor had pointed out, it was well past sunset. Lumiose is gorgeous at night, with the main streets well-lit, and the light of the Tower shining over the entire city. Once Sycamore has locked the door, he turns to smile at you again, offering you his arm as the two of you begin walking.

"Mademoiselle, not to undermine your abilities, but may I walk you home tonight?"

You let go of his arm and stuff your hands in your coat pockets. "No, thank you! I don't live nearby, so there's no reason to go out of your way-"

His lips twitch into a frown, eyes roaming your face. "Well now I'm going to worry more, [Name]. Where do you live, exactly? I want to make sure you get home safely this late."

You bury your face in your scarf and shuffle your feet. Professor Sycamore is always so hard to say no to- he's a genuine, earnest man, and honestly, he's pretty attractive too- the way he's pouting at you with pleading eyes is enough to finagle the truth out.

"Sorry, I live out in Laverre city."

At your side, the professor comes to a stop, and you halt with him. He's staring at you hard enough to make you blush, and there's a note of disbelief in his voice when he speaks again.

"You- pardon, but you live in Laverre?!" You nod, and he gasps. "Mon Laporeille*, that- that's too far! You've been coming to work so early in the morning, and then staying so late at night-" You look away from him, flustered.

"It's really not that big a deal, sir; I love working here and for you so much, the travel really doesn't bother me-"

"[Name], dear, that's. . . ah, I don't want to critique you, because you've been such a wonderful assistant," He rests his chin in his hand and studies you silently for a moment. Eventually he nods.

"Starting tomorrow, you're to take a week for rest."

You look up at him, both confused and mildly miffed. "Professor, I've been making such good progress-"

"And absolutely working yourself into the ground doing it, dear. My mind can't be changed. Consider it a vacation." Then his serious features light up as he smiles again, stepping to the sidewalk curb and raising his hand to draw a cab. "Now, mon Laporeille, let's get you home."

☆☆☆☆☆

"Mon petite chou," - "My small sweet bun," loosely

"Mon Laporeille," - "My Buneary."

#rival destinies #augustine sycamore #pokemon

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ongoingaccident-deleted · 5 years

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More Evie

two more chapters of things that don’t really make sense can be found starting here or you can read them below the cut!

To whomever is looking for me:

Back off. I’ll find you first. I always do.

L.Q.

Lia,

I’m glad that you, at least, enjoy the hustle and bustle of the Imperial City. I, for one, am content to travel around the province with only occasional stops back - it’s much more peaceful that way. Not to mention there’s much less drama… though I suspect you enjoy all of that more than you let on. You’ve always been the only one of us with any head for politics. Our brothers were mostly just content to swing a sword at their problems until they disappeared.

Speaking of House Tercius, would you believe that the patriarch is currently being investigated for crimes of necromancy? I’m certain that they’re trying to keep that one under wraps before his son goes for promotion in the Mages Guild. It would certainly be a pity for such an influential family to be destroyed by one man’s mistake. As for the son of the Arctus family, I’ll have to warn Augie. I think he serves with the man!

Nothing about Cavus Valentius surprises me anymore. I’m only surprised he’s managed to cover everything up thus far. I heard he took the opportunity at the last gala he threw to stare down the bodice of every woman and most of the men that walked through the door.

I’ll have to write Daliah. She’s always been a dear friend, and she’s the finest alchemist I’ve ever met. Besides, we use quite a few healing salves and potions on a regular basis, and she makes them stronger than most.

I’ll keep an eye out for this woman, whoever she is. Anyone who knows that much is probably up to no good, and is potentially a threat to the Empire. Thank you for the warning, Lia.

Yours always,

Evie

L.Q.,

Cordelia Tercius is hunting for you. She believes you sold out her husband. [It’s time to call in that favor Anaise owes me.]

-A friend

My dearest Evelyne,

Please accept my most sincere congratulations on finding your place in the Imperial military. I have heard only complimentary things about your new outfit. [Pfft!] I trust that you will be exemplary among them. You have always been the most clever of all of us, baby sister.

As for myself, I find my days filled with frustration. There’s a terrible ogre blocking my unit from advancing to where we’re needed. It makes it impossible for us to pass through to Bruma and provide the assistance they’ve requested. I hope we’ll be rid of it soon - I don’t suppose you have any experience handling ogres? [Captain Flavian Crassius… I think June mentioned him recently.]

In brighter news, I recently heard rumors about Vita Lorellius’ impending nuptials. She’s to be married to that one Valentius boy - what was the name again, Cavus, I think? He, at least, will be thrilled. You ought to drop off a wedding gift. I’m sure she would appreciate it.

Your devoted brother,

Augustine

P.S. Gaius is having an unseemly wart problem. I don’t suppose you still keep that tonic on hand?

L.Q.,

Thought you’d want to know that Cordelia Tercius has been arrested after attempting to attack a beggar in the streets. Her husband’s crimes must have driven her to madness. [I owe Anaise too much for words. I’ll have to see about getting my hands on that stone she’s always on about.]

Dear Augustine,

You always flatter me, brother. I’ve heard some extremely commendable things about your outfit as well - at least for the most part. Rumor has it that Sergeant Phaestus has been attempting to contact the Dark Brotherhood. A shame if someone were to find evidence and bring it to light.

As a matter of fact, I do have some experience with ogres. The one in question is said to have gone mad and begun scrawling insane ramblings on papers it keeps hidden where it sleeps. If you could manage to get your hands on those, perhaps they would provide some clues you could use to your advantage.

I sent Vita a gift for her engagement and she seemed quite pleased with it. “Anything you need, just ask”, I believe was the phrase she used. I’m only thankful she managed to find a use for it before the engagement dissolved; apparently her husband-to-be said some terrible things about her in front of her mother and the marriage was forbidden. A pity for Cavus, I suppose.

Yours always,

Evelyne

P.S. Tell Gaius that his wart problem can be fixed with the attached tonic. Two drops in his drink and the problem will be gone for good.

L.Q.-

You have a traitor in your ranks. They know what the false name is, but not who it belongs to. Your friend knows more. [No rest for the wicked, hmm?]

-P

June,

I miss you dearly, brother. And - I beg you never to tell Lia of this - I do miss some of the hustle and bustle of city life. There’s just something so vibrant about the Imperial City that is distinctly lacking everywhere else.

How is life in the Temple treating you? Everything here is mostly calm, though Lia has been telling me rumors about a most horrific person by the name Livia Quintus. She said something about treason, even - can you possibly imagine?. I don’t suppose you’d know anything about her or those rumors that you’d be able to share with me?

As for me personally, I’ve been suffering from the most terrible headaches. And to make it worse, I think they’re coming from the tea I’ve been drinking. But it’s made me feel so much stronger in other aspects of my life, I couldn’t bear to give it up. Would you know anything about this? You’ve always been the only one of us inclined toward any of the healing arts.

At any rate, write back soon, June. I miss hearing from you. Don’t tell Gaius I said this, but you’ve always had the best stories.

Your loving sister,

Evelyne

I want everything you know about whoever in my squadron is hunting and I want it now. There’s too much riding on this for it to fail.

L.Q.

thank you for reading and i hope you enjoyed and that this confuses you less than it does me!

#cat writes #i hope this makes sense to someone #i know no one probably wants to read fanfic done entirely in letters about ocs #but fuck it i'm writing it anyway #i'm so sorry #tes #eso #evelyne antonius #just wait it gets worse #it's just so fun to write even if it's hard #i'm so so so sorry #this is a mess #i'm a mess #i don't think anyone wants to read this but i'm writing it anyway #hdmdhfj i'm trying #anyway cat can't see so it is probably sneep time for cat

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scandalesdeparis · 5 years

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Bonjour, sa fait longtemps!

How is everyone’s weekend? Clementine and I are still nursing our hangovers with more champagne after a darling bellboy helped us load a crate of bubbly in our car. Everyone in Le Journal, of course, each received a bottle on their desk-- the critic included -- and as promised, we bring you stories from the wedding.

Let me just pour myself a refill hm?

First off, congratulations to Monsieur Rousset and his beautiful bride, it’s always a win for us girls when a dancer bags a dependable man like Guillaume, so it’s no wonder that several Moulin girls took a page from Elodie Celestine’s playbook and were seen with their own potential golden ticket secured tightly in their arms. Some got it right, and others well...they surely could do better.

Like my darling Annette Micheaux who returned to us after a short-lived stint as a supposed Ziegfeld girl, she was seen swooning in the arms of former Le Journal writer Bhari Sinclair. Everyone can see just how much they adore each other and it seems nothing and no one can tear them apart... except that is, for a very insistent patron. The writer could do nothing but hand over his date to the brute with a smile on his face before making his exit.

I don’t think he ever had a chance to defend his lady’s honor but Bhari, my dear, when you get a girl from The Moulin, you have to remember: the pen is definitely not mightier than the sword.

Another Moulin girl in our radar is the infuriatingly dreamy Charlotte Leigh, who doesn’t seem to mind if she ends up in the streets. Charlotte was seen getting cozy with the disgraced Arturo de Marin and it got me wondering who paid who for the time. Say all you want about how unreliable that pianist is but that man can move, which is a relief because then he can teach the dream girl how to dance. And she’s definitely in need of a few lessons.

And don’t quote me here but I think I saw them wearing matching rings.

Now there weren’t a lot of L’Enfer and L’Ciel girls in attendance and whether it’s because they found the event too classy for their taste or they were too busy being down on all fours, we'll never know. But the infamous La Reine de la Nuit did make an appearance who surprisingly arrived solo. Either no one was good enough or nobody wanted to touch that dancer with a ten-feet pole, but Carmen Moreno managed to hold her head high and be an independent woman until it was time to play an old game of hide-the-pickle with one Malachi Murdock.

Not even a club ban could keep this pining, creepy, thin man away from his favorite hole.

Oops, I meant watering hole.

No one is safe, and that’s why our very own critic makes an appearance here. Gabriel de Silva may have forgone a date, but that didn’t mean he left the party alone. Maybe it was deliberate, maybe he planned to try his luck at the reception, but whatever it was that we saw, certainly made our eyebrows waggle. Now, where do we start?

From an ominous conversation with Anthony Holst to the tall drink of water that is Jean-Baptiste Sauvage tenderly caressing the critic’s hand, that’s a lot to unpack. Throw in the elegant Anais Veilleux walking out on Gabe in the middle of the dance floor, only to be seen sneaking out with him later in the evening... a lovers’ spat? Well, stick a fork in me and call me done.

My, my, Gabriel, you’ve been very busy.

But what of dear ol’ Jackie boy? Well, after looking like a very thirsty fish out of water when his date ditched him for the critic, the cinephile was seen nose to nose and doing under-the-table hand action with my favorite messy artist Anatole de Celeyran. Methinks it wasn’t losing the opera singer that got Jack Sauvage feeling blue, but what do I know?

Now, speaking of Anthony Holst, the business mogul-- and I use the term loosely -- played family man during the event, his lovely daughter was visiting in town which perhaps explains Vivienne Moreau at his side. Now being a fresh-faced, young girl like myself, their history predates me or my sister, but that doesn’t make us blind. If that isn’t the look of two people in love then I don’t know what that is.

And it’s not like they’re waiting on anything, au contraire, they should hurry up-- time is not on their side. Maybe Sofia should stay a little longer, just in case there’s another wedding?

And finally a few surprises, like the lovely Isla Allaway-- I dare you to say that three times fast --who opted to bring a canine companion instead. That just made her the smartest woman in the room. Personally, I’m glad that she didn’t arrive with a questionable company.

There’s also big daddy Augustin Badeaux who looked so dapper as he played the role of best man. But I must say that I’m a bit disappointed that he didn’t bring his handcuffs with him, then again, I didn’t ask. Oh, the things I could do to that man.

And how can I forget Lucianna Gatti, a woman after my own heart? I wasn’t able to say hello since I was busy doing lines powdering my nose in one of the stalls, but honey you’re a spitfire. Never change. Don’t forget to visit me and Clem at Le Journal the next time you’re in town.

...And that’s about it! Now you won’t feel so left out, dear reader, and next time, do try to join in on the fun. I swear to you, it’s much better experienced first hand.

𝐵𝒾𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝓍𝑜𝓍𝑜

#af.event #rousset-celestine wedding #lsrpg #city rp #town rp #period rp

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what-the--curtains · 2 years

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Playlist - Chapter 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. Bellyache – Billie Eilish (Waking up in the hospital)

My friends aren't far, in the back of my car, lay their bodies

Where's my mind?

My V is for Vendetta. Thought that I'd feel better, but now I got a bellyache

2. Freedom Hangs like Heaven – Iron and Wine ( Meeting with Snow)

Freedom hangs like heaven over everyone

Mary, carry your shame, well past all those eyes across the avenue

You know I'll do anything you want me to

3. Nothing Arrived – Villagers (The tour)

What were we hoping to get out of this? Some kind of momentary bliss?

My dear sweet nothing, let's start a new. From here all in is just me and you

Well I guess it's over. I guess it's begun It's a losers' table, but we've already won It's a funny battle, it's a constant game

4. Blinding – Florence and the Machine (Attempt)

Seems that I have been held in some dreaming state A tourist in the waking world, never quite awake

No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden

No more dreaming like a girl, so in love with the wrong world

5. Olympus – Sufjan Stevens and Augustine di Angelo (Board walk)

Oh, lift up your head, boy. Don't play pretend dead on the floor

Who will arrange my great escape? Hopelessly I have been torn from this outrage Tossing and turning uneasy, it cost me the cross Am I at rest or resigned in my chaos?

#Spotify

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scarlettrhettelizabethrichard · 3 years

Text

Chapter 8. New Encounters, my GWTW fanfiction

Read all the chapters edited of The Robillard Boutique, my fanfiction of Gone With the Wind, what happened next ? , on my blog : https://alarecherchedutempsperdu.over-blog.com/tag/the%20robillard%20boutique/

********************** New York, March 21, 1875

The three French girls were enjoying the crisp ocean air on the promenade deck. In a few minutes, they would set foot on the New World. And that would be the beginning of the adventure. The trip had lasted eight days. It was Roger Dax who, at the request of his partner, had gone to the offices of the Compagnie Générale Transatlantique, the French Line, at 6 rue Auber in Paris, to reserve tickets for Blanche Augustine Bonsart Ratier and her daughters Marguerite and Georgette Ratier. The transatlantic crossing was made on the ship SS Amérique*, which had left the port of Le Havre on March 13, 1875. During the journey, the young woman had met an American passenger, a shipowner by profession, who explained the history of this ship, the first French transatlantic. When it was built in 1864, it was named "Impératrice Eugénie", after the wife of Emperor Napoleon III. At that time, it served Central America, from Saint-Nazaire to Vera Cruz. "Do you realize, my young lady? On this bridge traveled, before you, the Empress of Mexico, Charlotte of Belgium. » "In 1870, after the fall of the Empire, the ship was renamed "Atlantique". For the past thirty years, the number of emigrants like you has been increasing. And the shipping companies have "sniffed" the good business. So, all the ships were progressively transformed to increase their capacity in passengers and in speed. Our boat here was completely remodeled in 1873 to be lengthened to 396 feet. The paddle wheel was removed and replaced by a propeller, and a mast was added. It's true that it looks good! The name was changed again to "America". Even if I am a regular on transatlantic journeyses, I am still amazed by the speed records, eight days instead of three weeks twenty years ago! ». Flattered by the interest that the pretty young lady seemed to have in his story, Mr. Watts continued to tell the story of their ship. "She returned to service in January 1874, heading from Le Havre to New York. But it was a close call, because three months later, on the return trip to Le Havre, the ship had to face a great storm. Imagine the fear of the 83 passengers and 152 crew members*! Fortunately, everyone was transferred to small ships that came to help. But the "America" was abandoned. An English ship came to tow it from Plymouth and then it had to return, as best it could, to the port of Le Havre to be repaired. » Blanche breathed a great sigh of relief at the retrospective apprehension of having been confronted with such a catastrophe. The American gentleman added, very happy with this conclusion: "And we have the pleasure to be part of this first Le Havre - New York* crossing since its modernization! This christening deserves to be celebrated. What do you think? "Smiling, he got up to get hot drinks for the young mother and her two little girls. Blanche Augustine Bonsart was once again delighted that the owner of "La Mode Duncan" had bought them a first class ticket in "cabin passage" instead of "steerage class". What a luxury to have a personal cabin! Her mother Augustine had replied that it was quite normal. The rich American was going to deprive her of her only daughter, not to mention little Germain, who would remain under her grandmother's protection. So, at least she was reassured that the trip would go well. The cabins were located in the middle of the boat so that one was not disturbed by the vibrations of the engines. The small room was luxurious, equipped with sheets, water basin, storage space, etc... Blanche was aware that she was one of the privileged few. Everything had been thought of so that the rich passengers would be comfortable. Even the door, with its slatted shutters, allowed for ventilation. The first class had one main living room where one could eat and chat with the other passengers. The room where these wealthy people gathered had two bays separated by a balustrade, furnished with long tables, chairs and upholstered armchairs. There were even bells to call the steward*. "When I think that I ate last night with the captain of the ship! How I wish Germain had been there too. My little boy would have been wide-eyed at the Captain's presence. And Papa would have been proud as a peacock to receive such a character in our estaminet in Lille!" The pretty girl Blanche attracted the eyes of the gentlemen gathered there. But she did not belong to their world. She was in solidarity with the emigrants of the steerage. These were middle-class or working-class people who had to make do with a place in the steerage. The common dormitories were overcrowded, with bunk beds. There was often a struggle to cook in the small stove the food that had been distributed by the shipping company in small portions before departure: oatmeal, cookies, flour, rice, sugar, molasses and a little tea. The single women with children could not defend themselves sufficiently and could only manage to prepare a hot meal from time to time. Everyone ate, slept and talked in the same room. Blanche was pleased that the weather had not been too bad during the crossing, allowing the occupants of the steerage (or "tween deck"), installed above the hold, to get some fresh air on the deck. Continuing his conversation with the Frenchwoman, the friendly shipowner recalled his experience as a passenger on the British ship "Oceanic" leaving from Liverpool. In 1870, this ship had at least 143 crew members, 166 privileged passengers in first class and, above all, a thousand people crammed into the "steerage". Fortunately, the legislation concerning the transatlantic crossing of emigrants had improved since the laws of 1840 and 1850. Before these more protective rules, the consequences of the crossing for the poor migrants could be dramatic, as the hygiene conditions were deplorable and epidemics were frequent. But they all left the Old Continent with hope in their hearts. They had fled famine, misery, religious discrimination and revolutions. So what did this painful journey matter? At the arrival, the hope of a new life in this mythical America was waiting for them. A small, frail hand tugged at the sleeve of her cape. "Maman, when are we arriving?" Blanche looked lovingly at Marguerite, "Soon, my dear. "Reassured, the child hugged her, and her twin sister followed suit. They were dressed warmly: their grandmother Augustine had knitted them large vests and bonnets of the same color. With the money from Roger Dax, her boss, Blanche had bought warm, durable coats for herself and her two daughters from the tailor on Boulevard de la Liberté in Lille. Since the day she received Duncan Vayton's telegram, the young woman had felt as if she were being swept away in a whirlwind. The faces of those she was leaving behind in France appeared to her as a regret: her parents, her brother Georges and especially her eldest child, Germain. Victor Ratier, her husband, had been dead for nearly five years. As for her own heart, it had been buried for a long time in a small village in the North of France, in Erny Saint-Julien. Like hundreds of passengers on deck, Blanche could see the American coastline getting closer and closer. In a few minutes, she would disembark, like all emigrants, at the Emigration Center in Castle Garden**, Manhattan. Her suitcase was ready. Mr. Vayton had insisted that she only pack a few clothes. It was complicated enough to travel with two little girls as young as five. When they arrived in Charleston, she could buy what she and her twins needed, at her boss's expense. Finally, it was time to disembark! With Marguerite and Georgette pressed up against her, Blanche followed the crowd of emigrants, sharing the feeling of being thrown into the unknown. "Maman! Is this America? " Georgette pouted in disappointment as she looked at the austere-looking, circular-shaped fort, which looked menacing. "Don't worry, my little ones. Soon we'll arrive at a nice house. But we have to be good in the meantime. » First, it was necessary to pass the customs formalities. The Captain of the "America" had previously established the list of passengers destined for American customs**. Here again, Blanche Bonsart had an exceptional privilege: in order to prevent her employee from being drowned among the hundreds of asylum seekers gathered in the large amphitheater, the powerful Charleston industrialist had asked his agent to come and greet her upon arrival, carrying a sign so that she would recognize him. As expected, he was there! Blanche breathed a sigh of relief. Duncan Vayton's man of trust guided her into a private office of U.S. Customs. All the documents were ready, including the employment contract with Vayton & Son Limited, her place of residence and, of course, the name of her contact in Charleston. Soon, the little Bonsart Ratier family was officially declared an emigrant of the United States of America. Duncan's employee made sure they had something to eat. He was now in charge of accompanying them to Charleston by train. A little more patience and Blanche Augustine Bonsart would arrive in Charleston! *****************

Charleston, March 21, 1875

The clock was ticking now. Duncan had set his priorities for the day: select the building that would be the headquarters and workshop for "La Mode Duncan," arrange for accommodations for his French employee and her children who would be arriving, and then entertain himself with Rebecca. In reviewing the Vayton & Son Ltd. property list, Duncan noted that there were three buildings in Charleston that had been renovated by his company that would fit his needs. The first house was quickly eliminated. It was a classic Charlestonian single house, but the showrooms would have been too small. The second visit was also disappointing: the colonial-style house was suited to the prestige of "La Mode Duncan" with its high ceilings and large windows. On the other hand, the state rooms would be too close to the sewing room, so the noise of the sewing machines would be disturbing. Tomorrow, his notary will put these buildings up for sale. His last possibility was on the south side of the Battery, near the Magniolas' Mansion! "What a beauty! "Duncan exclaimed as he admired the white building. This venerable antebellum palace was Italianate. It was primarily its asymmetrical "L" shape that set it apart from the others, with its front gable and a two-story, molded-vaulted loggia occupying three-quarters of the facade at the broken-angle end. Instantly, the designer of "La Mode Duncan" had the vision of his models walking around the piazza that encircled three quarters of the building, under the gaze of the invited clients admiring the show from both sides through the French doors in the impressive showroom. What a great show this will be! Because Duncan had already made up his mind, even before he entered the house: Duncan's Fashion USA had its permanent home at 26 South Battery. He passed through the door with sanded windows. An impressive spiral staircase faced him. The vast showrooms, with arches around the windows and room entrances, the waxed parquet floor bringing an authentic warmth to the place, the ceiling moldings reminiscent of Italian architectural motifs, all this ensemble would perfectly embody the luxury and elegance of the "La Mode Duncan" label. An octagonal skylight decorated with stained glass overhung the top of the stairs. Upstairs, smaller, well-lit rooms would be perfect for use as fitting rooms. Other narrower rooms would be used to store accessories and the most beautiful models visible to the privileged clients. His office was already chosen next door. The key architectural element in Duncan's choice of building was the famous "L" shape, which had a building alongside it that would allow the sewing room to operate in large spaces without the noise of the machines interfering with visitors to the showroom. An outbuilding had been added as a continuation. Duncan was pleased to see that these rooms had clearly been converted into separate living quarters. A kitchen, a bathroom, a dining room, and three bedrooms upstairs were perfect. Duncan would ask one of his Magniolas' Mansion housekeepers to freshen up the place. The butler would go in today to stock the little house with food, cleaning supplies and linens. When Blanche and the twins arrive, their beds will be ready!

Satisfied, Duncan headed back to the Magniolas' Mansion. He still had to select from a catalog the latest model of Wheeler and Wilson Sewing Machine Company, which would be shipped from Bridgeport, Connecticut. As for raw materials, and before the Duncan & Harvey mill was operational, the best fabrics from a northern mill would do. He would make the trip this week. He had already placed an order with his partner in France to send him the finest lace, embroidery, silk and organdy. ******************

The young man sighed with satisfaction. Everything was going as he had imagined. Tonight he could finally relax. He walked to a residential street near the Battery. The Widow Mansfield's house was well kept. No sooner had he signaled his presence with the door knocker than a smiling young woman greeted him. Rebecca, her brother John and Duncan had been childhood friends. They spent all their free time at each other's family homes. They were from the same social background, and the plantations of both families were close. As they grew up, the clan was still very close. It was a race to see who could do the most mischief between the two boys of the same age. Rebecca, two years younger than they were, followed them faithfully and shared their games. Later, John and Duncan went to school together. Then time separated them. A fortnight ago, Duncan stumbled across John Paxton on the street. The two old friends hugged loudly, happy to be reunited after all this time. Over a drink, sitting in a tavern, the two men recalled the years they had spent without seeing each other. John had become a shipowner, owning cargo vessels docked at the Battery's port. "Always wanting to be on the high seas! "Duncan commented, tapping his friend on the back of his shoulder. "I could say the same about you, the Parisian! ». John laughed. He was always cheerful. That was one of the qualities Duncan loved about him, a great optimist. Naturally, Duncan asked about his former childhood friend, Rebecca. "My dear sister is well. Should I even confess? She's fine! She is a widow, mind you! » Duncan looked surprised and was about to offer his condolences. But John Paxton stopped him with a wave of his hand. "Frankly, there's nothing to be sorry about. I'm not sad that he died of a heart attack. It was probably a fit of nastiness that took him! "John added wryly. Noting Duncan's raised eyebrows, the young man said, "He put my sister through hell. Jealousy, greed, and violence. In short, he had all the faults. It made my heart ache to see how unhappy Rebecca was under him. When he died four years ago, no one mourned him. Especially not his wife! » So Rebecca was free now... Duncan stared at his friend, smiling. They knew each other so well. I'd love to see her again. Did she go back to live with your parents? » "No, she kept her late husband's house. Let it at least serve her for something. » Duncan laughed under his breath. Good John, generous to everyone, had made an exception for his brother-in-law. "I was just about to go see her. Do you want to go with me? » And that's how he had found Rebecca. With the same pleasure as when they were teenagers. In fact, more pleasure because Rebecca was even more attractive than he remembered. The clan of the three had reformed. Then Duncan twice invited Rebecca to the restaurant and the theater. Their exchanges were full of gaiety and connivance. On the evening of March 21, 1875, his childhood friend invited him home for dinner. The young woman jumped on Duncan's neck in a natural way, recapturing the closeness of their teenage years. After a light meal, they enjoyed coffee in the living room. Duncan simply poured himself a glass of whiskey. "How good we are together! Don't you think so? " Rebecca relaxed in a shepherdess, and looked at her childhood friend with laughing eyes. "Sure, you know you're even prettier than you were at fifteen? "Duncan's blue eyes played with his young friend's gray ones. She made a small modest moue. The widow knew she was pretty and had never lacked for admirers. She had only made one mistake in her life, marrying Henry Mansfield. He was rich, of course, and she had inherited a substantial sum from him. Since his death, she felt like she could breathe again. She was enjoying life. And the admiring glances of the men in her world. After having been so constrained by a tyrannical husband, and recluse without being able to visit her friends, Rebecca had decided to enjoy her widow status as a free woman. Oh, very elegantly and discreetly, of course! Her birth and education as a lady of Charleston's good society did not allow her to display too much misbehavior. But one also knew how to be discreet in her world. She had had two affairs in the last four years. "In fact, nothing very captivating! " thought internally the young woman. "A stunt to pass the time. » But it would be different with Duncan Vayton if.... "Duncan, you know, I've never forgotten the afternoons we spent by the lake. How carefree the three of us were. Do you remember that? "She looked wistfully at her guest. Duncan felt like he was floating. The whiskey, of course, was working. But not only that. With Rebecca, golden years flashed before his eyes. And early teenage emotions... "Becca, I haven't forgotten anything. "He used the nickname from their childhood. "Especially not a certain stormy day when you and I had to take shelter in the lean-to by the riverbank. "Duncan's voice became more and more caressing. The blond curls of Rebecca had released from its bun. One of her had rested on her breast. With amusement, he compared it with the small breasts which he had caressed that day, under the rain. They had exchanged a real kiss for the first time. There had been many others before, behind a bush, in a corridor, but all that remained quite childish, like a slightly more demonstrative embrace. But, the fury of the storm had brutally stimulated their nascent envy. The caresses had become lascivious. Who knows what would have happened if John had not come to join them at that moment? Rebecca's cheeks reddened at this mention. Not because of embarrassment, but because she remembered her emotion, as if it was yesterday. An emotion which has just reappeared, even more violent. "How handsome he is! " thought she. Even as a child, she admired him. She adored him. Duncan, with his blonde hair, was her sunshine. As she grew up, she didn't even mind the other male friends who wanted to play with her. There was only Duncan. Then there was that first unsettling kiss in the lean-to. And then there were many more which followed. John was not fooled and had well understood the maneuver of his two companions. My goodness! He could see himself becoming Duncan Vayton's brother-in-law. And then the visits between the two teenagers became more and more frequent, as they were received by one family or another. So much so that the Vaytons and Paxtons began to dream.... It would be a beautiful alliance, that was certain. When Duncan and John went off to boarding school to study, it was a heartbreaker for Rebecca. As soon as the vacations rolled around, the sun came back out with Duncan's blond hair. The caresses between the two youngs became more precise and insistent. With a glass in his hand, sitting in the widow Mansfield's living room, Duncan mused as he moistened his lips, "I'd like to compare your little breasts from before with those of today..." It was at that precise moment that their eyes met. Duncan stood up, and without a word, walked up to his hostess, brushing against her. Rebecca shivered. "How is it possible to feel the same attraction as sixteen years ago? As if we had left each other yesterday? "She hadn't realized she'd spoken aloud. Duncan's azure eyes grew deeper. "Becca, you're more gorgeousl as ever. When I thought of Charleston, back in Paris, I saw your beautiful gray eyes again. "With one hand, he wrapped his arms around her shoulder. With the other, he lifted her chin and kissed her gently. With ardor, Rebecca answered his kiss. She had the impression to live a dream. After some languid embracing, Duncan stopped and bowed his head. "What is it? "the young woman asked. Her lifelong friend looked her squarely in the eye: "I have never lied to you, you know that. When we were young, I felt an immense tenderness for you. But I left because I didn't want to get married. I was too young. I even confessed to you that I didn't imagine one day committing myself. » "I know, I remember," Rebecca had lowered her head before Duncan caught her expression of sadness. "Unfortunately, I haven't changed my mind on that. I can even tell you that I will never marry. I am too used to my independence. And yet, you know that, as before, I am attracted to you. But you deserve the truth. I care about you too much. » Then, Rebecca looked him in the eyes. She clasped her hands around his neck and kissed him fiercely. When they caught their breath, she confidently stated: "My darling, I too love my freedom. I have been deprived of it too much. No more marital constraints, that's fine with me. We get along so well, Duncan. And... I betrayed myself earlier by speaking out loud. So you know how I feel. Why don't we both take advantage of our physical attraction and our immense closeness to enjoy life? No one would need to know. What do you think? "Her voice had softened a bit, for fear that Duncan wouldn't believe her detachment. In response, Duncan lifted her in his arms and laid her back on the couch. The friend-lovers had just rekindled the flame of adolescence. ****************

In the morning, after a cheerful breakfast, Duncan Vayton kissed Rebecca tenderly and left the Mansfield’s house. He had many things to do, including contacting his business agent in Charleston to let him know that Vayton's fashion house was hiring, and that they were looking for serious, experienced, motivated workers. It was only in the evening that James drove Duncan to the train station to greet the French woman and her two children. When he appeared on the platform, two little girls rushed towards him. "Tonton Duncan, Tonton Duncan! "(uncle), and they took turns kissing him. Blanche looked at them with a tender look. A great breath of happiness came over her. Then Duncan stood up and kissed the young woman on both cheeks. "At last, Blanche, you're here! I've been waiting for you because we have work to do! And I need my best seamstress to take over the sewing room. Welcome to America, Miss Blanche! » Duncan gave her his best smile. He was sure now that "La Mode Duncan" was well on its way, with the help of his loyal assistant.

***************** Notes on chapter 8 :

The Compagnie Générale Transatlantique was created in 1855 by the brothers Emile and Isaac Péreire. Transatlantic ship: first called Empress Eugenie PSS (1865~1871) America SS (until 1895) Built by the Chantier de l'Atlantique de Penhoët in Saint Nazaire. Inaugurated on April 23, 1864. Originally, she was 105.63 meters long, 13.41 meters wide, with a tonnage of 3,200 tons. Iron hull, two masts, with a speed of 12 knots. On February 16, 1865, it made its first crossing from Saint-Nazaire to Vera Cruz. In 1873, it was extended to 121.91 meters, with a tonnage of 4,585 tons. The first voyage from Le Havre to New York was resumed on 13 March 1875. No luck! In December 1875, she broke her propeller shaft while leaving, and had to be towed again to Ireland. In 1876, it was equipped with a lighthouse and electric light on the outside. She ran aground again on January 7, 1877 at Seabright, New Jersey, and was refloated on April 10. She resumed her transatlantic crossing on August 11, 1877. On May 1, 1886, she made her last trip from Le Havre to New York, and then moved on to the Le Havre - Panama route. In 1888, electric light was installed inside the ship. Finally, on January 28, 1895, it ran aground in Savanilla to be transformed into a wreck. Sources: Noel Reginald Pixell, wrecksite. Castle Garden, New York: the first emigration center, originally a military fort. This reception center was created in 1855 in order to prevent unscrupulous employees or swindlers from accosting emigrants upon their arrival in this unknown country in order to offer them lodging, shelter, and, ultimately, to swindle them. Custom passenger list.

Author : Arlette Dambron

**********

Disclaimers : I do not own the story and characters of Gone with the Wind, which belong to Margaret Mitchell. I have created the "world" of Duncan Vayton and Blanche Bonsart.

#fanfiction, #GWTW fanfiction, #GWTW fantic, #Gone with the Wind fanfiction, #end of Gone with the Wind, #migrants, #migration USA, #migration from Europe, #French roots, #french ancestors, #transatlantic trips, #transatlantic boats, #Castle Garden, #Charleston, #Battery house, #steerage class, #french boats

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tabloidtoc · 3 years

Text

National Examiner, March 15

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Arnold Schwarzenegger and his secret son Joseph Baena

Page 2: Cars of the Stars -- what they drove before they became famous -- Johnny Depp, Brad Pitt, Barack Obama, Tom Cruise, Vin Diesel

Page 3: Cameron Diaz, Katy Perry, Leonardo DiCaprio, Jon Stewart, Mila Kunis

Page 4: John Travolta's roles and costumes

Page 6: Charlie's Angels' star Jaclyn Smith reveals her secret recipe for her favorite green smoothie for staying young

Page 7: Treasure Chest -- meet the hairy hunks of Hollywood who aren't afraid to show off their chest hair -- Hugh Jackman, Antonio Banderas, Lee Majors, Nicolas Cage, Robert Redford, Steve Carell, Tom Selleck, Sam Elliott, Steve Guttenberg, Stanley Tucci, Alec Baldwin

Page 8: When a tiny one-year-old desperately needed a liver transplant , his uncle fearlessly stepped up to the plate and it ended up saving two lives

Page 9: Physical activity is one of the cornerstones of good health; in the U.S., only 19 percent of women and 26 percent of men currently meet the CDC's Physical Activity Guidelines for Americans, which recommended that adults get at least 150 minutes of moderate-intensity aerobic physical activity, or an equivalent combination, each week

* Peppermint is a minty herb native to Europe and Asia and for hundreds of years, people have used peppermint both as a flavoring and for its medicinal properties and they all come together with a cup of tasty tea

Page 10: Joseph Valadez recently received his college diploma at age 62, after spending half his life in prison

Page 11: Your Health -- being the strong, silent type is dangerous -- men must speak up when health issues appear

Page 12: George Clooney's rock bottom -- George barely survived a terrifying motor scooter accident and the brush with death brought him face-to-face with the worst moment of his life -- in July 2018 he was working in Italy on Catch-22 which he directed and also starred in and George was riding a scooter on the island of Sardinia when a Mercedes cut across his path and sparked the horrific crash where George catapulted over the bike's handlebars -- George says he'll never forget that instead of trying to help him, people were trying to snap pictures of the horrendous collision -- George has given up riding scooters since the accident on the orders of his wife, Amal Clooney

Page 14: Dear Tony, America's Top Psychic Healer -- however unhappy your life, change is always the answer

Page 15: Mariachi bands make everybody smile and that's why the neighbors of one family band got together to help them stay afloat in hard times

Page 16: Royal Ensemble -- what the stars wore to meet Queen Elizabeth -- Madonna, Jayne Mansfield, Joan Collins and Anthony Newley, Marilyn Monroe, Elton John, Angelina Jolie

Page 17: Yoko Ono, Barbra Streisand, Sally Field, Meryl Streep, Kirk Douglas, Halle Berry

Page 18: Fading eyesight is a common symptom of old age, but you can help keep your vision sharp just by eating the right foods -- Australian dietician Susie Burrell says these superfoods fight age-related eye problems, including macular degeneration and cataracts: kiwi, Brazil nuts, kale, chia, red pepper

Page 19: It was a race against time for a crocodile that ate a shoe and there was nothing in the medical literature to help surgeons figure out how to remove the offending footwear from the croc's stomach -- Anuket had gobbled up a sneaker that fell from someone ziplining above her pen at a St. Augustine alligator farm in Jacksonville, Florida. It threatened to cause a painful and possibly fatal blockage but docs at the University of Florida Veterinary Hospital put their best foot forward until they finally managed to extract the slime-coated sneaker

Page 20: Cover Story -- Arnold Schwarzenegger's secret son Joseph Baena -- it's complicated -- Arnold gushes with pride over his 23-year-old secret son Joseph and they're super close -- Joseph adores his dad and he wants to be just like him and he's doing just that by landing a part in the upcoming sci-fi flick The Chariot

Page 22: A kidnapped little girl is safe today thanks to two hero sanitation workers who acted on a hunch -- an Amber Alert went out after the ten-year-old child was abducted from a family member's Louisiana home, but no one had reported any sightings of the vehicle that took her until Dion Merrick and Brandon Antoine of Pelican Waste & Debris spotted a silver sedan and had a bad feeling about it so they called 911 and pulled their garbage truck over on the wrong side of the highway to block the car from escaping

* A brave firefighter who was quarantined in the hospital with a bad case of COVID-19 missed his buddies and they missed him back, so they found a clever workaround to visit him -- the Phoenix fire crew used a ladder truck so they could climb up and wave through the window to Dan Volcko, a 20-year veteran of the department

Page 24: After a storm dumped a foot of snow in Seattle, 90-year-old Fran Goldman was so determined to get her COVID-19 vaccine she walked six miles to get it -- Fran had spent weeks on the computer and phone desperately trying to get an appointment on the jab, but once she scored it, Seattle residents were told to stay off the dangerously icy roads so Fran bundled herself up in fleece pants and lots of layers, but wore a short-sleeved shirt underneath to make it easy for the nurse to give her the shot

Page 26: You're in Luck -- charms to help you heal, hope and fall in love -- horseshoes, dice, number seven, pennies, dreamcatchers, shooting star, elephants, ladybugs

Page 28: Keeping Pets Happy and Healthy -- Paws for Concern -- how dogs tell you they need help

* Vet time for kitty -- 8 warning signs your cat needs a checkup

Page 32: Mystical power of wind -- the breeze affects us all spiritually because air is made up of positive and negative energy -- ancient Greeks believed in the magical qualities of air pressure, speed and direction

Page 34: Leader of the Pack -- Elizabeth Starck has fostered nearly 500 pups, and she has no intention of stopping -- bighearted Elizabeth works with Southern Indiana Animal Rescue, a dedicated group that pairs up dogs with foster homes -- after the pooches come through her portal, Elizabeth feeds them, rubs their bellies and gives them their meds, sometimes administering up to 30 pills to different dogs twice a day -- eventually she sends them off to forever homes, even though it's so hard to say goodbye

Page 40: Don't turn up your nose at garlic -- every day, medical experts around the world are discovering new uses for the amazing herb -- toothache, hives, infection, fatigue, asthma and bronchitis, diabetes, arthritis, blood clots, heart disease, cancer, back pain, acne

Page 42: 20 things you didn't know about Sarah Jessica Parker

Page 44: Eyes on the Stars -- Mariska Hargitay snaps a pic in Manhattan on the set of Law & Order: Organized Crime (picture), Blue Bloods stars Donnie Wahlberg and Marisa Ramirez get goofy in Brooklyn (picture), John Legend strikes a pose in Hollywood (picture), Bette Midler and Martin Von Haselberg got hitched in 1984 but she recently revealed she only saw photos of their Las Vegas wedding just five years ago, Ricki Lake is hoping the third time's the charm as she's engaged to filmmaker Ross Burningham, Emma Roberts and Garrett Hedlund welcomed son Robert Rhodes but they aren't the only superstars in the little guy's life -- Garrett's Country Song co-star Tim McGraw is Rhodes' godfather

Page 45: Princess Eugenie and Jack Brooksbank cuddle their infant son August (picture), Steve Martin bumps into an extra on the NYC set of an upcoming comedy series called Only Murders in the Building (picture), Kim Kardashian and Kanye West's divorce will be straightforward, Tim Allen and Richard Karn have reunited for a History Channel show called Assembly Required, Jaime King filed for divorce from Kyle Newman nearly nine months ago after 13 years of marriage but while they've been duking it out in court over custody of their two sons Kyle has gotten a jump on starting a new family with Cyn who is a singer also known as Cynthia Nabozny revealed the new couple had a baby boy

Page 46: The send-off party for a beloved healer was all set at Rose Medical Center in Denver and the one everyone had gathered to celebrate came in on all fours -- Wynn the service-dog trainee wagged her tail and rolled over for belly rubs as the emotional emergency-room staff thanked her for keeping them sane during the most difficult of their COVID-19 pandemic days

Page 47: The best celebrities to pick on Hollywood Squares -- here's a few of the favorite stars and their most hilarious quips -- Charo, Marty Allen, Nanette Fabray, Joan Rivers, Paul Lynde, Rose Marie, Charlie Weaver, Zsa Zsa Gabor, Vincent Price

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mysticdelphox97 · 6 years

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Never Say Goodbye, a Fan Sequel: Chapter One

So my wonderful friend JJ, aka @11random-person11, decided to write a broken MarissonShipping fanfic called "When We Say Goodbye," and she finally finished the last part. Of course, I cannot stand the fact that there is a hella huge cliffhanger at the end, as well as numerous unanswered questions. Not to mention that I'm a huge emotional wreckage because of how the story ended.

However! With JJ’s generous permission, I have decided to write some of my interpretations of what happens after WWSG in my fan sequel, "Never Say Goodbye"! Please note that while I am writing this with my own ideas, JJ gets full credit for the story as a whole, since she came up with the initial plot and created her adorable Marisson child, Faith. And I’m going to be doing Mended MarissonShipping because Alain and Mairin deserve to be happy, gosh darn it!

Also, if a broken AU isn’t your cup of tea, then don't you worry! JJ has plenty of other works that include happy and fluffy and super sweet MarissonShipping moments. I definitely recommend giving those a read for sure! I hope you guys enjoy!

CHAPTER ONE.

“…I expect you to inform her as swiftly as possible. The quicker this goes through, the sooner you’ll have no connections to them—meaning I can finally make full use of you.”

The dark-haired man on the other side of the screen blinked. Stunned, no doubt, from the compromise they had just made. Even though it offered no benefit to him, other than his family would be unharmed.

At least, that’s what Lysandre told him.

After a moment of silence, the man spoke up. “…It shall be done, sir,” he said in a voice no louder than a whisper.

“Good. We’ll talk again soon, Alain.”

And with a single tap of his finger, he disconnected the call.

The moment the monitor went black, Lysandre let the façade he’d been putting on vanish. With a heavy groan, he pushed himself away slightly from the desk and rested his face in his hands. His head pounded with a dull headache, and tremors wracked his body. A series of coughs erupted from his lips, despite all his efforts to suppress it. The metallic taste of blood became all too familiar to him now.

“Bryony,” Lysandre croaked. Without even a moment’s hesitation, his former admin entered the small, dark office that he occupied.

“Yes, sir?”

“My medicine, if you will.”

He caught the briefest glimpse of concern on Bryony’s face, which was easier to do without her green visor. As quickly as the expression came, it disappeared, and Bryony exited the room with a curt nod towards her boss.

What’s left of him, in any case.

A sudden, intense shudder wracked through Lysandre’s body. He grimaced as pain surfaced to his chest, and found himself slipping from the chair and falling onto the carpet. He wheezed between coughs, blood spattering from his mouth. When it subsided, Lysandre forced himself to control his breathing. A bought of light-headedness caused him to lean over, but something preventing him from falling again.

“Oh, goodness. You have certainly seen better days, haven’t you?”

He recognized that voice, despite it being years since he last heard it. He turned his head towards the woman that had caught him, and was met with orange eyes and perfectly-maintained pink hair.

“What are you doing here?” Lysandre did not bother hiding the contempt laced on his tongue.

The woman frowned disapprovingly, but said nothing as she assisted him back onto the chair. She then sat on the edge of the desk, which creaked under her weight.

“I heard that you cheated death,” the woman remarked curtly.

Lysandre glared at her, his hands gripping tightly on the armrests of the chair. “I know that’s not why you’re here, Malva.” He spat out her name like a bad taste in his mouth.

Malva raised an eyebrow curiously at him. She sighed, adjusting her glasses before crossing her legs. “Is that so?” she asked, not bothering to give him an explanation for her sudden appearance.

The former boss of Team Flare grimaced. “Do you really want to play this game, Malva? Because I am not in the m—” he was interrupted with another fit of coughing. Thankfully, it wasn’t strong enough to send him over the edge again.

“Clearly, you seem unable to do much as it is,” she said. She waited for Lysandre to stop coughing before continuing. “It’s a wonder how you got that boy back under your control.”

Lysandre stared her down.

“Although, he’s hardly a boy anymore, is he? He married a wonderful woman, and even had an adorable little girl. But thanks to you, he’s lost that and much more. You are certainly a cruel man, Lysandre.”

“He’s not difficult to manipulate,” Lysandre responded. A thin film of perspiration began to form on his forehead. Where was Bryony?

Malva hummed in agreement. “I’ll say. He truly believes you actually killed the Professor,” she mused.

Lysandre’s eyebrows furrowed. “Because I did kill him,” he corrected her.

A mischievous smirk curled itself onto Malva’s lips. “Ah. Then it must be a coincidence that dear Augustine is being held captive in the Kanto region… by Team Rocket.”

Lysandre felt his skin grow cold. He could only stare at Malva, absolutely dumbfounded by what she just said. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

With a flick of her hair, Malva hopped from the desk, using her finger to trace its edge as she walked to the front of it. “I must say, you did a convincing enough job to fake his death. Even I was temporarily fooled,” she complimented. She stopped walking and turned to face Lysandre. “Although, I knew that was the plan from the very beginning.”

“How?”

“A reporter has her ways,” she said slyly. Lysandre knew there was more to it than that, however.

“If you know so much… why don’t you just tell Alain all of this?” Lysandre glowered.

“I’m not the one who forced him to cut all his ties with people, especially his own wife and daughter,” she retorted. Lysandre flinched at her words, and she noticed. “And something tells me you aren’t as thrilled to be dragging him into this.”

Lysandre’s eyes narrowed. “That is preposterous. Alain is merely a tool, nothing more.”

Malva frowned and crossed her arms. “Easier to see him as a tool rather than your own son, isn’t it?”

In one swift motion, Lysandre leapt from the chair and strode over to Malva. She took one step back, but nevertheless held her ground as he towered over her. His face contorted into a furious glare, and if looks could kill, she’d be dead several times over.

“You have no right…” he threatened. Lysandre expected her to continue, but she only stared at him. A knot began to form in his throat, and his fists were clenched.

He did not expect her gaze to soften. The look she gave him wasn’t that of pity, either. “Perhaps I’ve crossed a line,” she muttered, breaking away and glancing away from him.

“…He looks so much like her…” His voice was on the verge of breaking.

It was true, though. There was no doubt that Alain was his son… and that his mother was Alina. The first woman Lysandre fell in love with. He was practically a carbon copy of her. Lysandre brushed it off as his mind playing tricks on him when he first saw the boy. After all, Alina had left Lysandre before Alain had been born… but perhaps there was a chance she knew they were going to have a child, and left anyways.

It was because of Giovanni that Lysandre even found out, only to have that information be used as blackmail against him. As a means of paying off his debt to the boss of Team Rocket, who managed to save Lysandre’s life after nearly succumbing to the power of the Megalith’s energy. But it had left him weak and sick, and only Team Rocket could supply him with the medicine he needed in order to stay alive. Giovanni had the money and the power to put even someone like Lysandre in their place.

And as it stood now, Lysandre had no choice but to comply with his wishes. Which meant being stuck in this dreadful building complex in an abandoned section of town as his base of operations. It was far from the luxury he was used to at his laboratories… but there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

He was powerless. He’d never been powerless before. And he despised it.

“If finding this out has made you suddenly care for him… why are you dragging him into this?” Malva’s question brought Lysandre back to his senses. He looked at her as she stood, waiting for an answer.

“Because I can make sure his family is safe… by separating him from them,” he explained carefully. “Team Rocket would’ve taken Mairin and Faith away, like they did with the Professor. And I can’t imagine that they would be merciful with them.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t disagree with you on that,” Malva sighed. “Is this really alright with you, though? To keep up this charade of a villain, when you’re not even in control anymore?”

Lysandre scoffed. “I tried to destroy the world for the sake of making it beautiful again. I can’t change that, no matter what I do.” A wave of nausea suddenly rushed over him, and Lysandre winced at the sensation. “It’s better that I continue to be a villain. There’s no hope for this world to ever become beautiful again, anyway.”

The sound of the door opening caught both of their attention. Malva and Lysandre watched as Bryony carefully shut the door behind her and approached the desk.

“Your medicine, sir,” Bryony simply stated, placing the bottle of pills next to the monitor.

“I suppose that must be my cue to leave,” Malva remarked. She smiled at Bryony as she passed by, and made to open the door to leave.

“Malva.”

Upon hearing her name, Malva stopped and glanced back. “Yes?”

“What are you planning to do now?” Lysandre inquired.

Malva let out a quiet laugh. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she answered. There was a pause, and then she continued. “There’s no telling what Team Rocket has in store for us. I’m going to contact some… acquaintances. See if we can’t figure out what Giovanni’s planning.”

“It won’t be easy. The technology he’s using, and providing us with, is far more advanced that anything I’ve ever seen. And he has grunts stationed almost everywhere… it’ll be a challenge to sneak by him,” he warned.

Malva smiled. “I told you before, haven’t I? I have my ways.”

And with that, she opened the door and slipped away, shutting it behind her as she left.

A heavy sigh escaped Lysandre’s lips. With what little energy he had left, Lysandre ambled back towards the chair and pulled it up to the desk. He grabbed the medicine that Bryony had fetched for him and sat down, untwisting the cap and shaking out several pills from the container. In a single motion, Lysandre swallowed them, chasing it down with a glass of wine that had been left from earlier in the day.

“Sir… is it safe to be taking the medication with alcohol?” Bryony asked.

“The medicine doesn’t treat the sickness, just the symptoms,” Lysandre explained. He turned to face her. “Have you been able to locate the other former admins?”

Bryony tensed slightly. When she responded, she had trouble looking Lysandre in the eyes. “I… I was able to locate Mabel and contact her. She should be coming by within the week. Celosia and Aliana’s locations are unknown. As for Xerosic… he’s under strict federal monitorization.”

“Giovanni probably has the means to fix that,” Lysandre pondered.

“My apologies, sir. The grunts and I will continue to look for them.”

Lysandre waived a hand dismissively at her. “I’m sure they’ll be found soon,” he reassured her.

“Sir… if Team Rocket finds them first…” Bryony began to say.

“They won’t,” Lysandre cut her off. “We’ll find them, Bryony. They’ll be safe under my command, I assure you.”

Bryony said nothing, but worry was clearly etched on her visage. She mustered as best of a smile as she could, bowed in thanks, and quietly dismissed herself to continue her search. Lysandre was left by himself in the dismal office.

With a quick roll of his shoulders, Lysandre turned the monitor back on and pulled up some documents. He had custody papers to file, after all.

#mystic's fanfics #my fanfics #never say goodbye #pokeani #lysandre #malva #eventual marissonshipping

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thewahookid · 4 years

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August 28, 2020 Reflection – Conversion!

August 28, 2020 St. Augustine of Hippo

Dear Family of Mary!

“…Little children, you do not have a future or peace until your life begins with a personal conversion and a change to the good. Evil will cease and peace will begin to reign in your hearts and in the world…” (August 25, 2020)

Today is the Memorial of St. Augustine, the great Father of the Church. He lived from 354 to 430 AD. He had no belief in Christ as a young man and his lifestyle greatly wounded his Christian mother. But she never stopped praying for his conversion. And in 386 he had a huge conversion! He wrote brilliantly about his conversion in his Confessions, a foundational classic for Christians. I often think of St. Augustine when Our Lady brings up conversion. He is such a powerful example of personal conversion. So here is what he wrote about his conversion moment, a moment he had fought off for a long time! What a powerful witness he is for us. May we always seek deeper conversion and ask St. Augustine to help us:

St. Augustine’s Conversion Moment—excerpt from Confessions, Chapter 12 (trans. Albert C. Outler; text from Christian Classics Ethereal Library)

Now when deep reflection had drawn up out of the secret depths of my soul all my misery and had heaped it up before the sight of my heart, there arose a mighty storm, accompanied by a mighty rain of tears. That I might give way fully to my tears and lamentations, I stole away from Alypius, for it seemed to me that solitude was more appropriate for the business of weeping. I went far enough away that I could feel that even his presence was no restraint upon me. This was the way I felt at the time, and he realized it. I suppose I had said something before I started up and he noticed that the sound of my voice was choked with weeping. And so, he stayed alone, where we had been sitting together, greatly astonished.

I flung myself down under a fig tree–how I know not–and gave free course to my tears. The streams of my eyes gushed out an acceptable sacrifice to thee. And, not indeed in these words, but to this effect, I cried to thee: “And thou, O Lord, how long? How long, O Lord? Wilt thou be angry forever? Oh, remember not against us our former iniquities.” For I felt that I was still enthralled by them.

I sent up these sorrowful cries: “How long. How long? Tomorrow and tomorrow? Why not now? Why not this very hour make an end to my uncleanness?” I was saying these things and weeping in the most bitter contrition of my heart, when suddenly I heard the voice of a boy or a girl I know not which–coming from the neighboring house, chanting over and over again, “Pick it up, read it; pick it up, read it.” Immediately I ceased weeping and began most earnestly to think whether it was usual for children in some kind of game to sing such a song, but I could not remember ever having heard the like. So, damming the torrent of my tears, I got to my feet, for I could not but think that this was a divine command to open the Bible and read the first passage I should light upon. For I had heard how Anthony, accidentally coming into church while the gospel was being read, received the admonition as if what was read had been addressed to him: “Go and sell what you have and give it to the poor, and you shall have treasure in heaven; and come and follow me.”

By such an oracle he was forthwith converted to thee. So, I quickly returned to the bench where Alypius was sitting, for there I had put down the apostle’s book when I had left there. I snatched it up, opened it, and in silence read the paragraph on which my eyes first fell: “Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying, but put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh to fulfill the lusts thereof.” I wanted to read no further, nor did I need to. For instantly, as the sentence ended, there was infused in my heart something like the light of full certainty and all the gloom of doubt vanished away.

Closing the book, then, and putting my finger or something else for a mark I began–now with a tranquil countenance–to tell it all to Alypius. And he in turn disclosed to me what had been going on in himself, of which I knew nothing. He asked to see what I had read. I showed him, and he looked on even further than I had read. I had not known what followed. But indeed, it was this, “Him that is weak in the faith, receive.” This he applied to himself and told me so. By these words of warning he was strengthened, and by exercising his good resolution and purpose–all very much in keeping with his character, in which, in these respects, he was always far different from and better than I–he joined me in full commitment without any restless hesitation.

Then we went into my mother, and told her what happened, to her great joy. We explained to her how it had occurred–and she leaped for joy triumphant; and she blessed thee, who art “able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think.” For she saw that thou hadst granted her far more than she had ever asked for in all her pitiful and doleful lamentations. For thou didst so convert me to thee that I sought neither a wife nor any other of this world’s hopes but set my feet on that rule of faith which so many years before thou hadst showed her in her dream about me. And so, thou didst turn her grief into gladness more plentiful than she had ventured to desire, and dearer and purer than the desire she used to cherish of having grandchildren of my flesh. (St. Augustine’s Confessions)

I love the way St Augustine describes that moment when he realized his great depravity and saw his soul in relation to the truth. This moment is so necessary if we are to convert. We have to understand the mess of things we make of our lives when we live without God. Then conversion is possible.

Our Lady is with us to help us to convert, to see our lives in the light of truth and to be given the grace of repentance and conversion. It is the best moment in our lives!

#peace #conversion #repentance

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kalosstarters · 7 years

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One-shot: Much Ado about a Leather Jacket

When I posted my drawing of Mairin with Alain’s jacket, @modeststroke said: “I'm currently thinking about Manon stealing Alain's jacket and taking a bunch of selfies with it in different locations and sending them to him teasing him because he wants it back and can't freaking find her”, and that sounded so much fun that I decided to write a small fic about it. Not to be taken too seriously, I know that the characters probably sound a bit OOC because I exaggerated some things on purpose. (Sap warning, probably. Lemme decide that Mairin is 17 and Alain 20 here so it doesn’t quite follow my headcanons, but who cares)

words: 1406

Alain felt his phone buzzing in his pocket when he was about to leave his classroom. “What now?” he sighed in his mind, thinking that something that required his attention might have happened at the lab, and picked the phone to check his messages. At first he smiled a tiny bit, seeing a picture of his smiling best friend on his phone screen. But then, something in the photo caught his attention, and his smile faded.

A quiet “what the mew” came out of his mouth when he realized what was so weird about the photo. Mairin was wearing a black jacket - his jacket - in it, but from the background Alain couldn’t figure out where she was. The most annoying part was that she had never asked a permission to use it. He had told her dozens of times that she could borrow his fluffy scarf if she so wanted, but his leather jacket was a different story. He had gotten it as a birthday present from Professor Sycamore years ago, and because of that the jacket was particularly dear to him. With Mairin, there was a great risk that she would rip it or damage it in other ways.

The black haired boy pressed the “call” button on the bottom of the screen and didn’t have to wait long for the red head to answer.

“What?” the girl asked all too innocently, without even bothering to greet him.

“Oh, you know exactly what ‘what’, you have taken my jacket.” Alain growled to her in return.

“Excuse you, I’m only borrowing it because the only coat I had with me got dirty the other day when I fell.” Mairin couldn’t believe Alain got this riled up over a jacket and rolled her eyes even though he couldn’t see.

“Not an acceptable excuse, you could have at least asked my permission to use it first.”

“Well, I can’t just call you in the middle of your class and ask if it’s OK to use it. Dork.”

“That’s not the... Ugh. Where are you anyway? I’m gonna come and take that jacket back.” Alain sounded calm, but Mairin knew he was losing his patience.

“Alain! It’s not that big a deal! But if you really want it back, you are gonna have to find me first because I’m not telling you.” Alain couldn’t see Mairin’s face, but he guessed she was showing her tongue on the other side of the line.

“Oh really?” Alain sassed in response.

“Really,” Mairin laughed, and hanged up. Alain stared at his phone in frustration for a moment, but then decided to go to the lab to ask if Professor Sycamore knew where Mairin was.

Less than a minute later, he received a new photo message from Mairin, this time with a teasing pose. Alain could see some trees and rocks behind her, but that didn’t tell much about her whereabouts. It was not in the city, that much was clear. When Alain arrived in the lab, he immediately stormed to Professor Sycamore’s room, and the older man looked up from his papers in surprise hearing his almost-son make so much noise.

“What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

“Mairin took my jacket,” he admitted after considering how to bring that up without sounding ridiculous. He soon realized he had failed.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I saw it on her when she went out earlier today...” the Professor stated, not understanding why Alain looked like someone had stolen his keystone or something equally rare and valuable. He knew Mairin would definitely return that jacket later that day, and it was not like that piece of clothing was something irreplaceable.

“Do you know where she went? She sent me this pic...”

Alain showed the Professor the photos Mairin had shared with him, but he didn’t get any new information from the older man. Right when he was about to put his phone away, it alerted him about another new photo message. This time Mairin was playing a Tauros fighter with Chespie (Chespie naturally being the ‘tauros’), and the spiny armor Pokémon was pushing his spines against his leather jacket, as if trying to attack Mairin. This time the background was also visible (on purpose, Alain realized), and the two men recognized the place as the skate park right outside Lumiose City, on route 5. The photo was ridiculous, and in some other case Alain might have laughed at it, but to his annoyance Professor Sycamore chose exactly that moment to make fun of him:

“Aren’t you guys adorable! She clearly wants you to go get her... I mean, the jacket, because otherwise she wouldn’t have shown where she is.”

Alain blushed fiercely at the comment, and pulled his phone back from his father figure.

“Oh come on... as if something like that would happen!” he mumbled, but grabbed his beloved scarf, and left the lab. He refused to acknowledge the fact that Augustine had a point; Mairin had teased him about not revealing her whereabouts only a little while ago, but now she had already done it. Professor Sycamore just shook his head and smiled widely as the front door banged loudly below him.

Only 15 minutes later, Alain arrived at the skate park, and it didn’t take him long to spot a certain red head and her starter Pokémon resting under a tree nearby. Mairin used his black jacket as her pillow, and her eyes were closed when Alain stopped next to her.

“Hey! Wake up!”

“Huh? Oh hi Alain, you found us!” Mairin greeted him cheerfully, but didn’t rise from the ground.

“Can I finally get my jacket back?” Alain asked, combing his messy hair in annoyance.

“Yes, if you come and get it!” She didn’t make any move to get off of the piece of clothing Alain wanted back so badly, just looked at him expectantly, ready to fight back.

Alain quickly looked around, and since no one was watching them, he surprised both himself and her, and threw himself on the ground (nearly on Mairin) and started a tickle fight. That kept going for a while until Mairin finally rolled off the jacket, tears on her cheeks from laughing so hard, and Alain snatched it to himself. But before he could stand up, Mairin took a firm hold of his shoulders and pulled him back next to her. Their faces were really close, only a few inches away... And Mairin decided to close that space. Her lips pressed against his only for a moment, but it made both of them blush, and Mairin decided she should finally explain why she had dragged Alain to the park:

“Happy birthday, Alain.”

“What?” Alain had completely forgotten what day it was. “Is that why you took this?”

“Yes. I knew that I wouldn’t get you out otherwise, because you would have simply said ‘I have to finish this thing’, so I had to make a plan... And it worked pretty well!”

“Uh. What about that kiss, though? What did that mean?”

“Arceus, you can be so oblivious sometimes... It means I like you. And I wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”

Alain didn’t know how to respond so Mairin took advantage of the silence and added: “By the way, there’s a present in the pocket.”

Alain reached for the pocket of his jacket, and found a small box in there. In it, there was thin silver chain, but there wasn’t anything hanging from it.

“You still hadn’t figured out where to keep your keystone so I thought it would be nice if... we had matching ones? Of course, only if you want it.”

“Oh. That’s very nice of you.”

He took his keystone from his pant pocket and pulled the chain through the little hook the stone had. Then he let Mairin attach it around his neck, and looked at it for a while thoughtfully.

“It looks good.”

“It does!” Mairin exclaimed happily, pleased at her good gift choice.

“Thanks,” Alain said quietly after a while.

“For what?”

“For this all. It cheered me up.”

“Oh. I’m glad to hear that. Did you hear that, Chespie, we did i...”

Mairin couldn’t finish her sentence because she was interrupted Alain’s lips on hers. He admitted in his mind, while tasting the hot chocolate she had drunk a little while ago from her lips, that maybe Professor Sycamore hadn’t been that wrong after all.

#OK THE ENDING IS SO BAD LIKE /WHY/ but #yeah #(oh my god i just heard a certain blonde haired character say that nope)#marissonshipping #my fics #mairin #alain

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