#liz cromwell

[tenderbittersweet]

Me watching Wolf Hall:

#wolf hall #wolf hall memes #thomas cromwell #thomas more #liz cromwell #johane williamson #anne boleyn #henry viii #jane seymour #mary boleyn #jane rochford #mary i #fandom #shipping #rarepairs #personal #op

[wulfhalls]

HIS HEART AND MIND TRAVELLED NORTH WITH THE CARDINAL INTO EXILE

#sorry. its about thomas cromwell and his dad master cardinal wolsey again. AGAIN YEAH #this is my real life he thought #go back to bed liz #with my master gone north there is no one to invent me #crying uncontrollably #wolf hall #the mirror and the light #📚 #txt.me

[carewyncromwell]

“Riff raff -- street rat -- I don’t buy that! If only they’d look closer... Would they see a poor boy? No, siree... They’d find out there’s so much more to me...”

~“One Jump Ahead (reprise)” from Aladdin

x~x~x~x

Despite being very happy in Slytherin, Carewyn didn’t make any friends in her own house in her first two years at school, aside from her best friend, Rowan Khanna. In her own dormroom, she had to rest her head beside Liz Tuttle (who seemed amiable enough, but was painfully shy), Ismelda Murk (a rather sadistic sort who turned Carewyn right off), and Merula Snyde (Carewyn’s school enemy likely for the rest of eternity). As for the boys, most of them seemed like total idiots, prone to drinking faulty potions just to prove they could -- and the biggest idiot of them all seemed to be the one called Barnaby Lee. 

Barnaby Lee was a tall, brawny sort with russet-colored hair, a square jawline, and ears that popped out from his head a bit like a troll’s. A troll was honestly the best comparison point Carewyn could make for him upon first meeting -- when Merula introduced him and Ismelda Murk as her new “friends” at the beginning of their third year, the first thing he said to Carewyn was that if she messed with Merula, he’d vanish all the bones in her body. Carewyn, perfectly unintimidated despite his muscles and superior height, couldn’t help but sass him. 

“If you stay friends with Merula, I won’t have to do anything to you. I reckon that’ll bring you more than enough misery.”

Yet Barnaby seemed to completely miss her point. 

“Not when Merula, Ismelda, and I find the Cursed Vaults!” he said conversationally, as if Carewyn hadn’t just insulted him. “What’s inside those Vaults is going to make me stronger -- Merula said so. And if doing what Merula says is the only way I can get to them, I’ll do what I have to.”

Carewyn crossed her arms, cocking an eyebrow coolly. “Merula told you you’d only get to the Cursed Vaults by following her orders?”

No one could possibly be that stupid. And yet Barnaby, it seemed, was. When Carewyn actually had the audacity to ask if Merula could just be lying to take advantage of him, the way she did with everyone, Barnaby looked so taken aback and confused that he strode away, his face scrunched up in a tight frown. 

“Don’t try to make me think, Cromwell.”

Carewyn put Barnaby Lee out of her mind after that discussion, at least until she met Tulip Karasu. Carewyn ended up helping Tulip ward off Barnaby and Ismelda with a Jumbo Dumgbomb so that Carewyn could get Merula’s key to Jacob’s room, and after Carewyn and Tulip successfully warded off the boggart that had taken over the abandoned room, the two set about looking through Jacob’s old notes for clues. After some investigation, including doing some reconnaissance in the Library with Bill, Carewyn came to the conclusion that the next Vault had to be inside the Restricted Section of the Library -- and that the broken wand and scribble-ridden book that had been left behind in the Ice Vault had to have been left there to help them open it! Tulip was thrilled -- and, as it turned out, she had an idea of dealing with another problem: namely, Merula trying to stop them from entering the Vault. 

“Remember Barnaby Lee?” Tulip asked. 

Carewyn frowned. “Merula’s own personal troll guard? Of course.”

Tulip smirked. “Barnaby might not be that smart, but he is strong. Maybe the toughest wizard in our year. On top of that, he’s someone Merula’s confided in -- he’ll know her really well, and he’ll know what her plans are.”

As much as he can know anything, I suppose, Carewyn thought dryly. 

Carewyn considered this. Barnaby certainly seemed pretty stupid...but at the same time, he didn’t seem half as malevolent as either Ismelda or Merula were. For as comfortable as he was about violence, he’d responded so...well, innocently, upon being confronted with the thought that Merula could be lying to him -- almost as if he himself was so dim that lying wasn’t something he would ever think of doing himself.

He seems really dumb, Carewyn thought to herself, but maybe that’s the problem. Maybe he’s just so dumb that he never even considered doing anything other than what Merula told him to do...

Carewyn’s light blue eyes drifted off to the wall thoughtfully. 

“Hm, well...as much as Barnaby’s kind of brought this on himself, for following along with Merula’s whims, just to try to make himself stronger,” she said at last, “it does seem pretty rotten, that Merula’s able to take advantage of him, just because she can.”

She nodded determinedly. “Okay. I’ll try to talk him around.”

He wouldn’t be able to help Merula stop us, if he agrees to help us instead, after all. 

Tulip gave Carewyn an encouraging nod. “You can do it, Carewyn Cromwell. Just do what you did with me, the other day.”

Carewyn blinked. “What, you mean, be a decent human being?”

Tulip gave a short laugh. “Well, sure! You got me to open up, didn’t you? Still don’t fully know how you managed it...but you made me feel heard. Like you cared.”

Despite the smirk on her face, her black eyes glinted with something a bit more sincere. 

“Just be everything you are that Merula isn’t. Let Barnaby see that you’re the better choice.”

With this advice in hand, Carewyn went to go talk to Barnaby in the Great Hall. His response to her sincerest, kindest attempt to coax him onto her side, however, was not what she had expected. 

And so that was how Carewyn Cromwell ended up on the Training Grounds with Barnaby Lee, dueling for nearly an entire hour until Barnaby was finally beaten down enough to accept defeat.

Once Carewyn had reversed his Full Body-Bind, she immediately took hold of Barnaby’s arm and extended it out toward her. 

“Uh...what are you doing?” asked Barnaby, confused. 

Carewyn shushed him. “Hold still. Ferula.”

She set about bandaging the cuts she’d inflicted on his arm -- then she set about trying to fix Barnaby’s sleeve, which had gotten ripped and burned by the same attack.

“Reparo. Scourgify.”

A couple of delicate sparks of light puffed out of Carewyn’s wand and sealed up around Barnaby’s arm. Barnaby blinked in surprise at his magically repaired, but still blood-stained sleeve. 

“I’m sorry -- I don’t know any Charms strong enough to get rid of those stains yet,” Carewyn apologized lowly, “but at least it’s a little better than it was...”

Barnaby blinked again at Carewyn, looking that bit more confused than ever.  Without paying him any mind, the tiny redhead set about bandaging and cleaning up his other arm and shoulder. By the time she was finished bandaging it, Barnaby finally seemed to have collected his thoughts. 

“...Hm,” he said at last. “I always thought you had to be mean to hurt somebody that badly...”

Carewyn frowned deeply even as she finished cleaning Barnaby’s other sleeve. 

“It’s not nice to hurt people,” she said very firmly. “But you said I had to beat you in order to get you to help me...so I did what I had to.”

Barnaby considered this. “So you did something you didn’t want to do, just to get what you wanted...”

His face then burst into an oddly bright grin. “...Merula was wrong! You do act like a Slytherin."

Carewyn raised her eyebrows coolly. “Merula’s wrong about a lot of things.”

Once she’d finished what she was doing, she tucked her wand back in her robes, looking up at the taller Slytherin critically. 

“So, Barnaby? Are you going to keep your word and help me instead of Merula?”

Barnaby rolled his sleeves back up where they’d been before, that brighter smile still blazing on his face. “As long as we can celebrate our partnership with a Butterbeer.”

Carewyn raised an eyebrow at this, but ultimately decided there was no harm in it and shrugged. She’d honestly prefer a conversation over fighting, anyhow. 

“All right.”

~*~

Once Carewyn had shed her full robes, she met Barnaby in Hogsmeade, right outside the Three Broomsticks. When she arrived, the blood on his sleeves had been cleaned up.

“Madam Rosmerta saw the fresh bloodstains on my sleeves and asked if I’d been in a fight,” Barnaby said brightly. “I told her I was! I had to reassure her that the blood was mine, though -- she’d looked really worried, when she heard I was fighting you...”

Rosmerta did indeed look a bit relieved to see Carewyn, when she brought them each a pint of butterbeer.

“On the house,” she said.

Carewyn immediately tried to protest, but Rosmerta merely smiled and gave her a light tap to the nose.

“No ‘buts,’ young lady,” she said, her smile becoming a bit wryer. “Consider this a bit of encouragement for both of you to settle your differences with words and not wands.”

As she bustled off, Barnaby smiled.

“That was awful nice of her,” he said conversationally as he picked up his glass. “I always like a Butterbeer after dueling -- they say it heals bruises and broken bones.”

Carewyn squinted at him in bewilderment. “Who said that?”

Barnaby’s eyes drifted up toward the ceiling thoughtfully. “...I can’t remember. I’m sure someone probably said it...”

He brushed this thought away as he took a long gulp of Butterbeer. 

“Anyway...thanks for such a great duel!” he said. “I can see how you beat Merula twice...just a shame I didn’t get to see them myself...”

“They really weren’t that exciting,” Carewyn dismissed politely as she too took a sip from her mug. 

She paused. Then, despite herself, she couldn’t help but ask, “How did you even get involved with Merula anyway?”

Barnaby shrugged as he took a sip of Butterbeer. “We have a lot in common, with her parents and mine both being...you know.”

Carewyn frowned. A murky memory returned to her mind -- Rowan in their first year, telling her a terrible secret about Merula’s parents...

She stiffened. “Your parents were Death Eaters?” 

Barnaby lowered his mug with a small frown. 

“Why are you so surprised?” he asked as he wiped the white foam from his upper lip. “Everyone knows Slytherins have the most interesting childhoods. I reckon you probably have some Dark wizards in your family too, right?”

Carewyn crossed her arms uncomfortably. “Not really.”

Unless you count my mum’s father being a total creep.

“So does that mean that you agree with Merula?” she asked, her voice low with displeasure. “That Muggles are inferior, and Muggle-borns like Ben shouldn’t be allowed to go to Hogwarts?”

Barnaby looked thoughtful. “Well, I’ve never met a real Muggle before, so I don’t know about that...but Ben Copper seems okay. Kind of wimpy sometimes, but he’s nice. He helped me with my Charms homework once last year, when I was having trouble,” he added with a smile. “I was misreading the directions in the book, so he offered to read them aloud for me and then showed me how to do the wand movement right. He’s really good at Charms!”

Carewyn couldn’t help but smile a bit at the sincere praise of her friend. 

“He is,” she agreed.

Knowing Barnaby didn’t seem to harbor any prejudice toward Muggles and Muggle-borns either made her relax that bit more. She took another sip of Butterbeer before pressing on.

“Muggles aren’t inferior, for the record,” she said very firmly. 

Barnaby tilted his head to the side. “They’re not?”

“No,” said Carewyn. “My mum ran away from home to live in the Muggle World. She raised Jacob and me the Muggle way too. Muggles aren’t perfect, sure, but wizards aren’t either...and they’ve done a lot of amazing things too, things even wizards haven’t done.”

“Like what?” Barnaby said curiously. 

“Well, they’ve been to the moon, for one.”

Barnaby’s eyes lit up. “Really? Did they meet the man who lives there?”

Carewyn gave a bewildered double-blink. “What man?”

“The Man in the Moon!” Barnaby said cheerfully. “I’ve heard people talking about him before. I reckon he’s got to be some wizard who got stuck up there a long time ago -- were the Muggles able to bring him back to Earth with them?”

Carewyn was so stunned she couldn’t stop herself from bursting into giggles.

“Oh -- no,” she choked out through her laughter. “No, the Man in the Moon -- that’s just an old children’s story, Barnaby! When Muggles first took pictures of the moon, they thought they saw a face carved into its surface...so people used to tell stories about a Man in the Moon!”

Instead of being discouraged by this, though, Barnaby’s eyes were brighter than ever. “I’ve done that before! I once saw a face in my shepherd’s pie, when I was a kid -- my dad smacked the back of my head with one of his shoes for crying while I was eating it.”

Carewyn’s mouth dropped open. 

“He did what?” she gasped. 

“Well, I was crying really hard,” Barnaby said self-deprecatingly. “But it was so tasty that I kept eating it, which kind of made me feel worse...”

Carewyn ignored this. 

“You weren’t hurt, were you?” she demanded concernedly. “When he hit you?”

“Huh? Oh, no -- not that badly,” Barnaby reassured her. “Dad got me light, that time.”

He looked startled when this only served to make Carewyn more upset. 

“It’s okay,” he said quickly. “Dad just wanted to make sure I was strong, that’s all. Grandmum always reminds me of that too -- that only the strong survive and all. She’s not so strong physically, but she’s really good with curses, like Mum and Dad were.”

“Was she a Death Eater too?” asked Carewyn grimly. 

“No -- Grandmum’s not a Dark witch, she really only collects stuff. That’s why I stay with her and Antioch now, over the holidays.”

“Antioch?”

“Grandmum’s crup,” Barnaby explained. He grinned as he added in a slightly lower voice, “I call him ‘Annie’ for short, though Grandmum hates it.”

Carewyn quickly stifled a smile behind her hand. Barnaby suddenly looked incredibly self-conscious and looked down into his Butterbeer.

“...Huh. I don’t think I’ve ever talked this much about myself to anybody before...” He looked up at Carewyn hesitantly. “...This isn’t weird for you, is it?”

“Of course not!” Carewyn said at once. 

“Hm,” said Barnaby. He looked thoughtful. “Well, it is a little weird to me...”

Carewyn’s face became very serious. 

“Barnaby...if there’s something you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to,” she said firmly. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

Barnaby considered this. Then, looking slightly surer of himself, he said, “Does your mother scold you a lot, Carewyn?”

Carewyn frowned. “No.”

“Hmm...” Barnaby looked thoughtful. “What about your dad? Does he call you names? Do they collect Dark artifacts?” 

“No,” said Carewyn, very confused. “My dad’s a Muggle.”

Barnaby looked sheepish. 

“Sorry,” he said. “I was trying to figure out if we have anything in common too -- like Merula and I do. You said you don’t have any Dark wizards in your family, though, and I know you’re not an only child like me, since you have your brother...”

His sincerity again surprised Carewyn. 

It was so strange -- Barnaby had seemed so brutish and stupid, at first glance. Carewyn had followed Rowan’s example early on and seen him as akin to a troll, just stupidly following around after Merula and wrecking things left and right. And yet now, upon being shown basic human decency, he was opening up like a flower hungry for a bit of water and sunshine. 

A prickle of pity flicked at the inside of Carewyn’s heart. She looked down into her own Butterbeer thoughtfully.

“...Well, what about interests?” she suggested. “You like to duel, right? Is Defense Against the Dark Arts your favorite subject?”

Barnaby rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Not really -- I almost got frozen trying to bust our last professor out of the cursed ice last year. And the professor this year’s almost never around...”

Carewyn sighed tiredly. That was true -- the current Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had been paranoid about getting “taken out” by the curse affecting her predecessors and so had been largely replaced by about a dozen substitutes over the course of the term. No one knew whether her barely being around would protect her from the curse or not. 

“What is your favorite subject, then?” asked Carewyn. “Herbology? Potions?”

Most Slytherins got some favoritism from Snape, after all. 

Barnaby shook his head. “Mm, not really...I prefer Care of Magical Creatures.”

Carewyn’s eyes widened a bit. “Really?”

Barnaby looked rather self-conscious again. 

“Well, it’s just -- all the tough creatures, you know,” he said forcefully. “The dragons, and the manticores, and things...”

Carewyn could pretty easily tell he was putting on airs, though. She smiled.

“I love Care of Magical Creatures,” she said earnestly. 

Barnaby looked encouraged. “You do?”

“Yeah! Remember when Professor Kettleburn showed off that bonfire full of salamanders? I thought they were so beautiful, the way their eyes glowed.”

Barnaby’s eyes lit up as brightly as the salamanders’ eyes had. “Me too! I so wanted to hold one, even if Kettleburn said that they’d burn your hands, if you weren’t wearing the proper equipment...but they were just so cute!”

Carewyn’s face burst out into a huge, bright smile. Almost immediately Barnaby seemed to lose his nerve and he flushed. 

“I mean -- um...”

Feeling some compassion for how uncertain he looked, Carewyn cut his stammers off gently. 

“They were really cute,” she said, and her bright grin broadened further as Barnaby’s ears reddened. “I was so jealous that Liz Tuttle managed to get one to crawl up her arm.”

The light returned in full to Barnaby’s eyes, more excited than ever. “Me too! And that Charlie Weasley got one to roll over for him too -- I reckon the salamander must’ve liked him comparing her to a Chinese Fireball...”

Carewyn beamed. “Charlie’s brilliant, when it comes to dragons. I reckon that’s why everyone on the Quidditch pitch compares him to a Peruvian Vipertooth.”

“Oh, right -- because they’re the smallest and the fastest!” Barnaby laughed. “That’s smart! I don’t really know much about Quidditch...my parents were never really that interested in it.”

“What did you and your parents like to do together?” Carewyn asked as gently as she could. “Like, for fun.”

Barnaby considered this. “Mm, well...they didn’t do much of anything special with me, really, besides have meals and teach me lessons. They dropped me off at Granmum’s a lot of the time, when I was really little.”

He paused.

“...My dad did introduce me to You-Know-Who, once,” he admitted at last, very lowly.

Carewyn’s eyes grew very, very wide.

“You actually met him?” she whispered. 

Barnaby lowered his gaze down to the table between them. 

“I saw him, anyhow,” he said quietly. “My dad met with him at our house when I was little. I’d poked my head in to find out who was in, and that’s when my dad told him who I was.”

Carewyn tried to imagine a tiny Barnaby, eclipsed in the shadow of such a foreboding, monstrous man. It was a chilling thought.

“...You must’ve been so scared,” she said, her voice soft and weak in its horror. 

The memory of her You-Know-Who boggart, and the fear his heartless scarlet eyes had instilled in her, rushed over Carewyn like a cold wave. 

Barnaby shook his head. “Mm, at first, yeah. But my dad admired him. And looking at him closely...well, he looked kind of funny, to be honest. Super pale with these bony, old-man fingers -- no hair, no nose -- it made me think he must have a hard time enjoying any good food, if he can’t smell anything.”

Carewyn was so startled by Barnaby’s utter lack of fear that she gave a very short, strangled laugh. Then she went very quiet again, recalling again just how serious this whole thing was.

“He was the most powerful Dark wizard in the world, Barnaby,” she said very solemnly. “He killed so many people -- terrorized so many more...all with no remorse, and beyond reason...”

“I know,” said Barnaby. “But like I said, my dad admired him. And my dad always said that if I could become powerful like You-Know-Who, then I could do anything. I could do whatever I wanted, because no one would question my strength or try to stop me.”

Barnaby rested his muscular arms down on the table, his bottle green eyes once again falling down to his mug of Butterbeer.

“...Now that my dad’s in Azkaban...I’m just trying to keep doing that, like he said. Try to get stronger, so that I can do what I want to do.”

Carewyn stared at Barnaby, taking in the oddly pensive, melancholy look in his face. There was suddenly such a weight to his shoulders, like he was wearing some really heavy cloak someone else gave him that was way too big for him and didn’t suit him at all. It reminded Carewyn of her mother Lane, when she told her stories of her miserable life at the Cromwell estate...of needing to bury who she was and what she liked, just to fulfill her terrible parents’ expectations of her...

This is the boy I called Merula’s “troll guard?” 

The thought made Carewyn feel sick. All this time she’d merely seen Barnaby Lee as too stupid to go against what Merula told him, but...truly, it seemed how Merula treated him was how he’d always been treated -- by his parents, by his grandmother. Like you had to be cruel in order to make people respect you, like strength and power were all that matter...like his feelings didn’t matter...

He wasn’t stupid at all, Carewyn realized. He just didn’t know that he was being treated so unfairly -- that he deserved better than how the people in his life had always treated him...that that “better” way even existed...

“Carewyn?”

Carewyn blinked, her eyes refocusing on Barnaby after having zoned out. The Slytherin boy’s square face had twisted up in a hesitant, confused expression.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Carewyn looked away at once, suddenly incredibly uncomfortable. 

“I’m fine,” she said at once. “...Why?”

She asked this because Barnaby didn’t look fully convinced. 

“It’s just...your face looked so sad, just then,” he said uneasily. “Like you saw something awful...something no one else can see.”

Her heart had been slowly softening to Barnaby for a while now, but it was these words, and the sight of Barnaby looking up at her with such genuine concern, that finally made it fold. Her blue eyes blazed with a kind of decisive, compassionate fire as she looked down at her own reflection in the glass in front of her.

“...Maybe I did.”

She paused. When she spoke again, her voice was both firmer and warmer than before. 

“...I don’t know if your dad would agree with me, Barnaby...but I think you’re very strong.” 

Barnaby blinked. “You do?”

Carewyn nodded. “Mm-hm. And not just because you’ve got big muscles, or you know a lot of spells. I think you’re strong because you’re loyal, and honorable, and honest too. I think you’re strong because...even if your parents are Death Eaters, you don’t look down on Ben for his heritage...and even if your dad always told you to act tough, you still think salamanders are cute.”

She beamed at him.

“I think you’re strong because you’re you...and that’s all there is to it. I think that’s pretty brilliant.”

Barnaby stared at Carewyn, looking both bewildered and a bit overwhelmed. Then, flushing with embarrassment, he grinned self-consciously. 

“...You really are a very nice person, Carewyn,” he said, his bottle green eyes bright with validation. “I don’t get why Merula doesn’t like you at all.”

Carewyn gave a light huff. “Well, I don’t like her very much either. Or how she treats you.”

I didn’t like Merula taking advantage of Barnaby before, but to know all she’s really been doing is treating Barnaby the way his rotten family’s always treated him...

A surge of hatred toward Merula pulsed through Carewyn, even as she put down her now empty Butterbeer glass and gave Barnaby a more reassuring look. 

“Come on,” she said as she got up from her seat. “Let’s head on back to the castle -- it’s getting late.”

“Do you want me to help you with the Vaults now?” asked Barnaby.

Carewyn was reminded of the exchange she’d had with Tulip, where the Ravenclaw had acted as though she’d fully expected her only to care about the Cursed Vaults, like Merula did. 

“No,” said Carewyn. “I just don’t want us to get in trouble for breaking curfew.”

Barnaby looked sheepish again. “Oh yeah -- right...”

He got up from his chair too and started to follow Carewyn out of the Three Broomsticks. 

“We’ll have plenty of time to deal with the Vaults later, after I’ve hashed out a plan with Bill,” she said reassuringly. “I know Tulip will want to help too, so we’ll have to figure out what time works best for all of us.”

Barnaby’s eyes drifted up toward the cloudy sky as they headed out the front door. “Hm, yeah...reckon Bill Weasley’s schedule’s probably a bit different than ours...and he’s taking his OWLs this year, right?”

Carewyn nodded. “Right. I don’t want to stress him out too much, around his exams...they’re so important, when it comes to his future as a Cursebreaker.”

“I don’t know if I’d want to be a Cursebreaker, myself,” Barnaby said thoughtfully. "But it is pretty cool that Bill’s so sure of himself -- what he wants to do. And he’s really strong too -- I’ve seen him at the Dueling Club, and he almost always wins.”

He grinned. 

“Maybe now that you and I are working together, I could ask Bill to fight me next!” he said brightly.

Carewyn stifled a smile behind her hand. “Maybe you should phrase it as wanting to duel him, rather than fight him.”

She paused. Then her smile spread a bit more.

“I just figured out something we have in common,” she said. “We both think of other people’s feelings before our own.”

Barnaby blinked. Then his face brightened noticeably. 

“...Yeah! Yeah, I guess that’s true!”

His emerald eyes squinted, just to make enough room for his broad smile. 

“Say, Carewyn?” 

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to stop by the Magical Creature Preserve on the way to Kettleburn’s class tomorrow? I found a Knarl in his burrow the other day, and he’s really friendly...I think Hagrid must’ve found him before me, for him to be so good around humans...”

The suggestion made Carewyn’s own smile and eyes brighten that bit more. 

“Yeah,” she said. “I’d like that.”

And that was how Carewyn Cromwell and Barnaby Lee became such unlikely, but good friends seemingly overnight.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #my writing #barnaby lee #carewyn cromwell #tulip karasu #madam rosmerta #merula snyde #ismelda murk #liz tuttle #charlie weasley #lane cromwell #charles cromwell #rubeus hagrid #fanfiction #aesthetic

[scavengedluxury]

The sight that finished her off.

#uk politics #liz truss #oliver cromwell

[kramlabs]

"There is something behind the throne, greater than the king himself."

—William Pitt, Earl of Chatham and British Whig statesman, 1770

:

“We must assume that this something, since it never answered for one or more acts of regicide, is still in charge today. The thrones of Europe (as well as Japan and the Middle East) are merely a deceptive facade, in place to deflect the people's attention from the issues that matter to the shiny objects that generate news headlines, easy to manipulate and ultimately disposable.”

:

#city of london #doorknob assassins #everything is fucking managed #rothschild #conspiracy therapist #blackrock #Alex Krainer #liz truss #Sullivan and Cromwell #her majesty's pleasure

[asha-mage]

Their is always this moment in "Arthur returns" fics where the subject of how government has changed comes up and Merlin invariably goes "Oh yeah we have this thing called democracy now and it's really good haha" and each time I can't help but be taken back.

Cause look. I love Merlin but that boy is a hardcore, dyed in the wool Royalist if there ever was one. He believes in his King so much that he waited for more then a thousand years for the crisis bad enough that it would call Arthur back from Avalon to reclaim his throne, never doubting that he would return and he would fix everything when he did.

Merlin 100% believes in the institution of absolute monarchy as a result of Arthur. He would still be bitter about the Magna Carta in the year 2023 and have a dart board somewhere with a picture of Cromwell taped to it. He would be disgusted by the office of sovereign being reduced to figurehead celebrity and is convinced their hasn't been a proper sovereign since Anne Stuart. He calls the Hanovers "those posers from the continent". He likes the Windsors a little bit better but not much: George VI and Liz II won some points in his book for their services in World War 2, but he detests the advent of the modern "celebrity royal" for degrading the dignity of the crown to new lows.

Everything wrong with England and Britain, in his mind, is the fault of Parliament who he still sees as a bunch of unruly Barons and angry Roundheads squandering the nation's future to stay in power.

(If anything Arthur "I want what's best for my people always" Pendragon is the one much more into the idea of democracy and parliament, and would crush Merlin's hopes of simply dissolving to body by instead reforming it to make it more fair.)

#Merlin #Merlin BBC #arthur pendrgagon #merthur #their was 100% a moment during the interregnum where Merlin was holding his breath wondering 'is this it #'is it finally gonna happen' #and then the Cromwell died the Roundheads imploded and Chalres II came back #and was like fine as King #but Merlin still spent the next two decades storming around all grumpy cause he thought hed finally get to kiss arthurs stupid face again #and watch arthur behead cromwell

[mihrsuri]

‘fic my friends/mutuals might write in the Tudors OT3 verse universe’

@eidetictelekinetic listen I wrote the entire Handmaid In OT3 Verse Story (it’s an OT4) and obviously also there’s a daemon au you write Kate but I also feel like there’s an extensively plotted version of Standing Outside The Fire.

@herawell obviously the Mary Tudor POV of the entire journey to acceptance which is kind of a different take in fandom which tends to either have her embrace it, be unaware or be a cartoon villain (or angel).

@boleynecklace is absolutely (a) rocking the edits and (b) writing a series of fic about the Robert/Elizabeth angst with a happy ending year (1547). I also feel like a ‘EOY lives to see her grandchildren born’ happens.

@nocompromise-noregrets okay other than writing the loveliest Barduil AU set in Tudor England (famously in universe Barduil is canon + Lee Pace has a guest star part/cameo as Thomas Cromwell in a Tudor Mystery Show) and also is actually probably writing an epic about a ‘what if Liz Cromwell and her daughters lived’ OT4

#ot3: political power trio #thinking about adding more people #and details like

[vacantgodling]

a distraction

wip: vampires don’t take road trips (sorta; this won’t appear in the actual narrative bc it’s first person pov and darren would have no way of knowing — nor does he need to know — his uncle’s sex life 💀)

character(s): laurent rouzet-blanc (darren’s uncle, younger brother of liz but still 200+), raymond cromwell (laurent’s best friend) ; mentions of antoinette rouzet-blanc (laurent’s daughter with his deceased human wife emìlie “emily” shingle so a half-bloodling), carlotta sinclaire, viktor sinclaire, and erasmus sinclaire (carlotta & viktor’s father)

some minor spoilers to plot related things surprisingly. also grief and second chances at love & all of that. tagging as suggestive bc handsy making out. read at your own digression etc etc

The tick of the grandfather clock was on time to the click of brown leather dress shoes on the dark oak wood floor of the drawing room. Laurent looked up from the magazine draped elegantly over the gray-clad suit pants of his lap up at one Raymond Cromwell, arriving quite unannounced. His dark suspenders were strapped tight, a habit from his far off youth, and his brown coat was clutched tightly between his side and arm, like a lifeline he was loathe to release. A pipe was tightly clutched in his other palm, his entire stance and body language stiff and rigid and Laurent folded the magazine; gingerly laying it on his drawing room table.

“To what honor do I owe this visit?” Laurent asked plainly, not questioning how he got in, nor necessarily why. It was a disguised question, a verbal bait and switch for words that Laurent dared not ask, but their meaning felt. Raymond took a steadying breath, and Laurent sat at further attention.

“Smoke first.” Raymond decided after a heavy beat.

In a fluid motion his coat was tossed over a nearby floral chair, and his ever present newsboy cap followed. Wavy, thick, salt and chocolate tresses revealed themselves from underneath, stuck up and on end from their previous enclosure. Raymond ripped a hand through this unruly mop, only succeeding in making it messier. He sat down on the chaise immediately behind the one Laurent lounged on with a loud sigh and stuck the pipe in his mouth. He leant his head back until it was brushing against Laurent’s shoulder, exposing the smooth column of his neck.

“Do you have a light?” He drawled. Laurent nodded and reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket for his book of matches he always kept close for this purpose. “Upright.” Laurent chided, jostling him. Raymond complied and sat up straight, leaning into Laurent’s space enough so the other man could cup a hand around the black, worn bowl. He brought the delicate flame to the herbs within, illuminating just how bloodshot the sclera around Raymond’s deep crimson eyes were. But still, he didn’t prod. He leaned back when the pipe was lit, shaking out the match and tucking it into a different pocket in his coat to dispose of later. As he did so, he felt the shuddering inhale of Raymond’s lungs, turning his head to witness it all billow out of his friend’s nose and mouth, not entirely dissimilar to a dragon, milky and white.

It was another moment before Raymond finally said, with a noticeable lack of forewarning, “She’s dead, Laur.”

Laurent felt his shoulders tense, but when he turned to glance at Raymond out of the corner of his eyes, his expression was oh, so, carefully neutral.

“… Carlotta?” He asked, carefully. Raymond let out another shuddering breath and pinched the bridge of his nose with the hand not gripping his pipe. Laurent heard the pipe cracking between his friend’s distraught fingers. “That bastard fucking killed her.”

“Viktor?” Laurent hesitated to ask but Raymond immediately sucked his teeth.

“No. Erasmus.” That wasn’t who Laurent was expecting to hear. He turned again, draping his arm over the other chaise to look at Raymond fully but the man wouldn’t meet his gaze. Instead, he stared out of the large bay window before him, unseeing.

“How do you wager that, old friend?” In a rare show of physical contact, Laurent bumped Raymond’s elbow with his own and it finally made Raymond shift. His eyes slid back to Laurent’s.

“I’ve been watching that miserable piece of shit for a long time. I just know.”

Laurent studied Raymond’s face and not finding a trace of insincerity he closed his eyes, trying not to heave a sigh himself.

“I believe you.”

“She’s gone.” Raymond’s voice cracked a bit on the second word, but he didn’t have to say it for Laurent knew. He knew what he was feeling. What he never got to say. Two moths that were dancing around a mutual flame and it was suddenly, without warning, extinguished. Even if losing Emìlie wasn’t the same, Laurent knew. He knew.

“How long does it hurt, Laur?” Raymond asked, already scanning his thoughts. “It’s been nearly a century.” Laurent said quietly. “And I still feel her absence like the day I buried her.” From his peripheral, he saw Raymond bob his head, until it was tucked against his chest.

Silence fell.

Eventually Laurent grasped Raymond’s arm.

“She knew you loved her.” Was all he said. Raymond didn’t move still, the pipe nearly half fallen out of his lips. Laurent was almost worried that in his grief, Raymond simply passed out, but suddenly his friend jolted to his feet. The pipe still did fall, and Laurent reached out, grasping it before it clattered to the ground.

“Raymond?” It wasn’t often Laurent said his name. But at it, Raymond looked. Tears had finally begun to streak down his dark, chiseled face, and Laurent was up on his feet until Raymond was in front of him, pushing him back down into the chaise. Laurent wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but Raymond dropping onto his lap, knees bracketing his hips wasn’t one of the myriad of scenarios flipping through his mind.

Raymond crowded in close, until their noses were brushing, and Laurent draped his arms around his friend’s waist, studying him—waiting for his next move.

“I need a smoke.” Raymond’s whisper was husky and rasp, then dark lips were pressing into Laurent’s easier than breathing.

He didn’t push him away.

Laurent stroked long fingers against the bunched material of Raymond’s shirt tucked into his dress pants, and let his friend work his mouth open with long, languid drags of his tongue. Laurent’s eyes, half lidded and not fully closed, studied the half furrow of Raymond’s brows. If it was stress, or relief, pain or pleasure, he couldn’t tell. But he licked back against Raymond’s tongue as it started to retreat, coaxing him back to him after a scant parting for breath.

Raymond’s hands slid into Laurent’s long loose tresses of ink and silver, tugging until he let out an involuntary small gasp. It was then that the first rock of Raymond’s hips startled Laurent into this sudden reality. The reality that Carlotta was dead, and his beloved wife was long gone; where his best friend was kissing him and was perched on his lap. The reality that perhaps the two of them had always been this close to this cliff’s edge. The reality that this was all it took for them to finally tumble over it. Laurent’s hands gripped Raymond’s hips, holding him fast and steady, encouraging his hips to move again and they did with a dark, rumble of a moan in tandem against Laurent’s chest.

Raymond pulled back. He wiped a hand across his lips, perhaps to hide the wry, delighted grin that was tracing across his face.

“Damn.” He said. Laurent didn’t say anything. With their eyes still locked, Raymond rolled his hips once more. Testing. Prodding. Laurent hissed when they caught against his growing arousal.

“That thing you do with your eyebrows when you feel pleasure is quite… interesting.” His friend’s voice dropped to a inquisitive murmur, making Laurent scoff.

“My eyebrows aren’t doing anything.” However, Raymond paid him no mind, instead skating his fingers against Laurent’s jaw, then leant down to follow the trail with his lips.

“Laur…” Raymond’s voice was a heady rumble and Laurent just barely managed to stave off the urge to shiver. “Let me guess,” He reached up to card a hand through Raymond’s tousled hair. “You’ve wanted this for awhile.” Raymond huffed out a laugh. “Oh since we met, old friend. You’ve always been easy on the eyes.” Raymond pulled back only slightly to peek at Laurent’s raised eyebrow. Something warm stirred within him when it caused his friend to laugh. “Trust me. There’s only one reason I’ve ever fallen into Saph’s chambers—and it wasn’t for him.” Laurent couldn’t help his laugh if he tried, though as always, it bubbled as a low, dark chuckle. “So then were you jealous?” He couldn’t help but ask. “Of Em and I?”

“No.” That answer did give Laurent pause and he regarded him. The grief was still there, ever present in his eyes. But there was some spark of life beginning to return to them; a dollop of rich, bright hazel intermingling like a dance in his crimson eyes. Curiously, Laurent found himself lifting a hand to trail it thoughtfully against his friend’s dark cheek. Unless it were his imagination, Raymond lent into it.

“I was happy you found someone who made you less miserable. I still am.” Raymond’s smile was soft and pliable. “And you know Emily was a dear friend of mine. I felt partially responsible for your meeting.” Raymond chuckled, but finally leaned in once more, back into Laurent’s space. The heat, the arousal, it was all still there, and Raymond’s head fell to his neck. He pressed an exploring kiss there, then another one more searing when Laurent tilted his head to let him continue. “And before you worry your head about it, this doesn’t have to change anything between us.” Raymond’s voice was a hoarse rasp, circling the shell of his ear like a thick smoke. “I just need—“ Laurent pushed his hips up and Raymond’s words caught in his throat, clipped on a gasp. “A distraction.” Laurent finished for him. Yet, this felt like more than that. It was as if the strength of the revelation 100 years ago with Emìlie reached forward in time to strike him again, with interest—their history. Laurent wouldn’t pretend he’d looked at Raymond like this before, but he’d never looked at anyone, never thought himself capable of the emotions. Yet, he’d married, had a child, grieved—still grieved—and now his best friend’s comfortable weight on his lap felt just as right now as Emily’s did then. He couldn’t change the past, neither of them. They couldn’t restore what either of them lost. But their companionship, a distraction, an inquest into something more… Perhaps that was in order.

Before the topic could be breached or Laurent could make his thoughts known, the door to the study swung open to reveal a familiar tidy head of ginger hair; Antoinette’s darker, but still as vibrant as her mother’s.

“Father?” She called softly, her voice always comparable to a mouse. And well, Laurent knew wouldn’t take long for her eyes to find the two of them, entangled as they were. Raymond made no move to pull away, but he did pause his exploration towards Laurent’s jugular. Laurent tilted his head so he could meet his daughter’s eyes.

Her face blossomed red before he could say a word, and she quickly spun around and hurried back into the connecting corridor, without another word.

Against his neck, Raymond chuckled. “Poor Nettie. She wasn’t expecting to see her da like this I’m sure.” Laurent scoffed in reply, tilting his head back to gaze at the ceiling. He’d talk to Antoinette later, if she would see him. It was no different than the first time she’d stumbled upon him and her mother, though that was ages ago. She hadn’t looked him in the eyes for a week. He really wasn’t sure where her demureness came from.

“I didn’t say stop.” Laurent murmured instead. Raymond’s laugh and grip on his shoulders, tight and sure, as he got back to business made something warm and comfortable coil in Laurent’s gut.

They’d have more time to discover it later.

#s: darren and co #suggestive #ren writing #i’m only tagging suggestive bc there’s no penetration or nakedness just making out and getting hands #anyway #spoilers ig

[mariacallous]

Before emigrating from Ireland to teach in England in 2006, I assumed British people would know as much about me as I did about them. I was put right just one year into the job, in an east London staffroom, when a colleague teased: “Why the salad, Jen? I thought you Irish loved a potato.”

Contrary to the stereotype, Irish people don’t just happen to love potatoes. Pushed on to infertile land in west Ireland, most notoriously at Oliver Cromwell’s command, farmers had been encouraged to grow the ill-fated crop by their British colonisers. But when the blight came, little was done to help them. The resulting Great Hunger brought the death or emigration of 2 million people – more than a quarter of the Irish population – between 1845 and 1852.

Potato jokes aren’t funny to me – government turning its back on its own people during a time of crisis rarely is – but I heard dozens of similar gags during my 12 years in English and international British schools. They were never nasty – they just came from a place of absolute ignorance. Rubbing shoulders with colleagues in history departments, I quickly came to a realisation: while Irish students arguably learn too much about Ireland’s colonisation, British students certainly learn too little.

In every Irish classroom, children are reared on stories of oppression and rebellion. Every child understands the intricacies of Anglo-Irish relations. As a secondary English teacher, I can’t avoid plays, novels and poetry dealing with our complicated relationship with Britain. Irish students leave school with the historical and emotional weight of colonisation on their shoulders.

Compare that to Britain, where teaching English rightly involves texts focused on class, misogyny and injustice, often set around the second world war, but rarely relating to Britain’s relationship with Ireland, despite Ireland’s literary clout and proximity.

In 2016, my school embarked on a project on the British empire. Irish media were consumed by the centenary of the 1916 Easter Rising, a historic turning point in the fight against British rule. Naively, I offered a book on the subject to our head of history – it was returned to my desk the following morning. I should have known better.

Studying Othello in my A-level English class, we had a debate on race. I asked my intelligent, wonderful students whether white people can experience ethnic prejudice as seen in the play. No, they said. “What about Britain’s treatment of the Irish?” I asked. They looked at me blank-faced – of course they did. In response, I told them about the infamous signs my grandfather saw while living in London in the 50s: “No blacks, no Irish, no dogs.”

This failure of British schools to teach students anything about Ireland has far-reaching consequences. For one, if educated British people do not understand the difference between Ireland and the United Kingdom, they cannot understand Brexit. Take the Conservative MP Andrew Bridgen, who in 2018 confidently declared English people had a right to an Irish passport due to the common travel area. Or how about Boris Johnson, who, when concerns were raised about the possibility of a hard border, brushed off fears as “pure millennium bug stuff”, and later as a “folly”. Try using that word to any of the families and communities affected by decades of violence and devastating loss.

Even now, as Ireland and Britain continue to grapple with highly sensitive trade agreements in the wake of Brexit, knowledge of this kind matters. In June, Liz Truss, then foreign secretary and probably Britain’s next prime minister, summed up so much when, with a straight face, she pronounced taoiseach as “tea-sock”. In delicate negotiations, considering the historical British policy of eradicating the Irish language in Ireland, it’s paramount that elected politicians, at the very least, get Irish names right. When Queen Elizabeth spoke a few words in Irish at a state dinner in Dublin Castle, the former seat of British power in Ireland, she did something very significant. She showed Irish people and Irish culture her respect. Politicians must look to their recently deceased and beloved monarch for inspiration in this regard.

While British people are taught not to know – not to care – about Ireland’s history, Irish people carry the pain of it around with us. Every political gaffe, every time an Irish celebrity is wrongly claimed as British, every mix-up of Britain, Ireland and the United Kingdom – every time it happens, is corrected and happens again – sets our relationship back. It makes Irish people feel as if their nationality, their distinct cultural difference, is a detail too insignificant to learn about. Yes, it’s time we move on – but to do so requires respect and knowledge on both sides.

[ariparri]

Cardverse Character List

Here's the list of characters in each region!

The list will be updated when I figure out placements for other characters I still have yet to add.

I may have also forgotten some MCs , if I did just let me know so I can add them!

If anyone else would like to take part in this, you can read the desciption of each region in my masterlist post to find out which suit your MC can be part of!

Cardverse Masterlist

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

Country of Spades

Veruca McQuaid (Queen - short term)

Rowan Khanna (Jack)

Bill Weasley (Ace)

Coby McQuaid (King - in recovery)

Duncan Ashe (former Jack - deceased)

Erika Rath (Jack’s Guard)

Merula Snyde

Levi Kidd (recovering in Hearts)

Elora Dunn

Peregrine Pearce

≫ Exiled or Imprisoned ≪

Patricia Rakepick (former Ace/Queen)

Kazuhiro Shiratori (Assassin)

Verucca Buckthorn-Snyde (former Jack)

Eustace Burke (Doctor)

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

Land of Clubs

Orion Amari (King)

Helena Durazzo (Jack) @helenadurazzo

Talbott Winger (Law Enforcement)

Angelica Cole (Creature Marshal)

Liz Tuttle

Alanza Alves

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

Kingdom of Hearts

Diego Caplan (King)

Carewyn Cromwell (Queen) @carewyncromwell

Barnaby Lee (Ace)

Chiara Lobosca (Jack)

Sarahi Silvers (Castle Gardener) @dat-silvers-girl

Ben Copper

Felix Rosier

Percy Weasley

Rosalie Emilien

Declan Conroy

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

Diamond Empire

Penny Haywood (Queen)

Alina Markington (Jack)

Liv Tóth (Ace) @nerdyliv

Malachi Avery (King) @akikocho

Maya Avery

Jacob Avery

Carson Ivey

Jae Kim

Badeea Ali

Andre Egwu

Corey Hayden

Chester Davies

Aurélie Dumont

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

Jokers Domain

Nymphadora Tonks (Joker)

Tulip Karasu (Joker)

Murphy McNully (Ringmaster / Commentator)

Charlie Weasley (Beast Tamer)

Jacob Cromwell (Escape Artist) @carewyncromwell

Lizzie Jameson @lifeofkaze

Skye Parkin

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Facepaint Kid

Beatrice Haywood

Ismelda Murk

Jane Court

#hphm cardverse #hphm cardverse character list

[hyperions-fate]

It's hilarious to me that the historical trajectory of the British state and its ruling class started with Machiavellian master politicians like William Cecil and Thomas Cromwell, but will now terminate in a death-spiral of incompetence and irrelevance overseen by absolute morons like Liz Truss. Truly a poetic end.

[brood-mother]

In light of prime ministerial candidate Liz Truss claiming she would simply ignore the democratically elected leader of Scotland (to applause from the crowd), I’d like to remind people that Tories fucking despise Scots, they see us as a subhuman colonial asset, they have always done so and they always will. Never forget this video of a Tory MP from a couple of years ago saying they should enslave us and send us to the colonies again, to laughter and jeers of approval. It received very little backlash and was generally seen as a spot of good old English fun, just like Truss and her current bile. 

Fuck the Tories, fuck the Union, death to the United Kingdom, Saor Alba gu bràth.

[Transcription: “Landslides on the whole, do not produce effective governments, so our Prime Minister can rest assured of an effective and smooth five years. And it was the home of Oliver Cromwell, who defeated the Scots at Dunbar, incorporated Scotland into his protectorate, and transported the Scots as slaves to the colonies - (pause for laughter) now there’s an answer to the West Lothian question.”]

#feel free to rb #i feel like an insane person trying to explain what the attitude towards scots in the uk is to people from outside the uk #even when they're so fucking blatant in their contempt for us #THESE ARE THE PEOPLE WHO STORE NUKES A FEW MILES OUTSIDE OF OUR BIGGEST POPULATION CENTRE #if we leave the union and take our oil/gas with us watch out for the sudden 'accident' at faslane

[untuned-ukulele]

Why did we stop at Edward Colston? There are so many tributes and statues of racist, bigoted pricks in the UK. Why did we stop after one statue???

There's still every Winston Churchill statue that you find fucking everywhere, statue of Cecil Rhodes, Oliver Cromwell, John Mitchell and many more.

With everything that's currently happening here in UK (liz Truss being elected, all prices going up, no wages are going up, strikes might be banned, electric bills go WAY up, lost our human rights) it would be a great way to show the tories that we still don't take no shit, that we are still gonna fight for our rights, because I think they think they've worn us down just enough that they can do whatever the fuck they want but we need to show them they're wrong before it comes true, or before we dont have any rights left to protect

[carewyncromwell]

“And as you take that first step Upon a path that's all your own, You see it all so clearly -- The best way to survive is all alone.”

~“Open Up Your Eyes,” from My Little Pony: The Movie

x~x~x~x

It was a surprise to both the student body and the Wizarding World at large when the famous Cursebreaker Patricia Rakepick took the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the fall of 1988. There had been rumors for a long time that the job was cursed, with each teacher only lasting in the position for a year or less, so for such a well-regarded witch to leave her comfy job at Gringotts bank to take that unlucky teaching job in particular seemed very odd. Some theorized that she thought to break the curse on the job -- others, that she’d accepted the position to seek out the rest of Hogwarts’s mysterious Cursed Vaults. 

Carewyn Cromwell herself suspected the latter of those options. From the moment she first collided with Rakepick, she found there was this dodgy feeling she couldn’t shake, looking at the Cursebreaker. Perhaps it was because like Dumbledore and Snape, Carewyn couldn’t get a good fix on what Rakepick was feeling like she could a lot of other people...but it also could’ve been how interested Rakepick herself had stated she was in the Cursed Vaults and “revealing their secrets,” when she first arrived, as well as her overall attitude in how she tried to coax Carewyn to help her with her goals. Carewyn had long since decided she’d do whatever she had to in order to save Jacob from the Cursed Vaults, and she was far too proud to accept being one of Rakepick’s "assistants” when she could more than handle things on her own, or with her friends, who she knew had far more selfless motives to help her. 

The fifth years’ first class with Rakepick came at the end of the first week of term. All of the fifth years from all four houses were there, making it a very large class. Rakepick had been sitting at the desk at the back of the room when the students had first filed in -- her Niffler, Sickleworth, sat on top of it, and both he and his owner watched as the students all found their seats. Once everyone was seated, Rakepick rose from her seat and strutted around the desk to the front of the class out to address her students. 

“Good morning,” she said crisply. 

“I am aware that I’m your fifth instructor for this class, in just as many years...and that your previous instructors were just as questionable in their methods as in their characters. But rest assured, I intend to stand apart from my predecessors in at least one crucial way -- actually teaching you something. I am not only going to show you how to defend yourselves against the Dark Arts, but how to attack the Dark Arts head-on. You will receive the finest instruction from someone who has actually faced the worst that the Dark Arts has to offer.”

Carewyn noticed Merula at the table to the right of hers lean forward slightly, interested. Carewyn herself, however, merely crossed her arms -- Rakepick’s arrogance had always rubbed her the wrong way.  

“Some say this position is cursed,” Rakepick said with a smirk. “Well, breaking curses is what I do best.”

I don’t recall you breaking the Sleepwalking Curse last year, Carewyn thought cynically. No, instead you left it for Bill, Charlie, Hagrid, Torvus, and me to take care of...

Rakepick flourished her cloak aside with her arm as she strode over toward the blackboard.

“Now, then,” she said in a more business-like tone, “let us begin.”

She raised a hand and abruptly slapped the blackboard.

SMACK.

It spun all the way around, rattling loudly. Seemingly in response, a loud, angry-sounding groan echoed from the front of the classroom, making all of the students jump. 

“What was that?” Carewyn heard Diego Caplan’s voice at a desk behind her. 

“Is there a ghost hidden from view?” Carewyn heard Andre ask. 

“Unbeknownst to you,” Rakepick pronounced calmly as her eyes wandered over the class, “an ugly beast has been hiding among us from the moment we first entered this classroom.”

Carewyn shot a scathing look at Merula. Rakepick herself responded rather drolly. 

Her dark blue eyes then flitted over to Carewyn, boring into her face with a bit more focus than before.

“Miss Cromwell -- would you care to reveal the true beast in the room?” she said, gesturing to the empty floor to her right. “I believe the spell you would’ve used on the Vanished Stairs would work nicely here.”

Carewyn’s almond-shaped eyes narrowed in suspicion. Who told Rakepick about the Vanished Stairs? Dumbledore? Or someone else?

Nonetheless, she took her hornbeam wand out of her robes and pointed it at the spot Rakepick had indicated. 

“Revelio!”

In an instant, the illusion was stripped away, revealing a short, hunchbacked, sickly-looking creature with wrinkled grayish skin and pupilless lime green eyes. 

Ben gave a loud gasp. His dormmate Charlie, who was sitting next to him, was quick to reassure him.

“It’s okay, Ben,” he said with a smile. 

“He rattles the pipes and groans a lot, but he’s harmless.”

“Mr. Weasley is correct,” said Rakepick coolly. “While ghouls may appear horrifying, they are -- in fact -- relatively harmless. A nuisance, perhaps, but hardly a real threat. This makes them an ideal introductory subject, while providing a reminder that looks can be deceiving.”

Her gaze drifted back up onto the rest of the class, surveying them with a rather detached, yet all-seeing eye akin to a Wampus Cat. 

“Ghouls are dim-witted creatures, most commonly found in the attics or barns of old houses and farms. They’re commonly seen as household pests, akin to gnomes and doxies, but their size and overall adaptability makes it so that wizards sometimes have to intervene, when a ghoul has taken up residence in a house owned by Muggles -- yes, Miss Khanna?”

Rowan had raised her hand. Upon being called on, she brightly added, “That’s why the Ministry of Magic founded the Ghoul Task Force, right, Professor?”

“Correct, Miss Khanna,” Rakepick said rather dryly. “The Ministry loves to bureaucratize, in response to just about any minor problem.”

She put aside her condescension as she pressed on. 

“Despite their aforementioned lack of intelligence, ghouls are rarely hostile, and can actually become domesticated to a degree. You won’t be able to teach one of these creatures how to sit or fetch, but they can become a conversation piece in one’s home, at the very least.”

“Like fish in a fish tank?” asked Tonks. 

“Precisely, Miss Tonks,” said Rakepick. “There are different breeds of ghouls, as outlined by Newt Scamander in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. They all resemble this one, for the most part, but there is a special kind that can magically camouflage, disguising itself as an everyday object. I do believe you might be able to tell me what that kind of ghoul is called, Miss Tuttle?”

Liz gave a start. She hadn’t been expecting to be called on (she hardly ever raised her hand, outside of Care of Magical Creatures), and it made her incredibly uncomfortable.

“Ah -- well, uh...”

She glanced around awkwardly. Fortunately she managed to catch Carewyn’s eye -- her red-haired dormmate offered her a reassuring smile and nod.

“...That’d be ah...a Chameleon Ghoul,” Liz said meekly. 

Ralepick inclined her head to Liz. “Indeed. Five points to Slytherin.”

Liz blushed, looking both very flustered and delighted, as Rakepick continued in her lecture. 

“We won’t be covering Chameleon Ghouls specifically today, as they’re considered to be on the NEWT level...but should you ever have to face one, you can use the same technique Miss Cromwell demonstrated earlier, should you wish to make it visible.” 

“I don’t know if I’d want to make it visible,” Carewyn heard Ben mumble to Charlie.

Rakepick shot a quick, sharp look at Ben, who immediately stiffened up. The professor then turned her gaze over to Carewyn sitting at the table one over from him.

“Now that we’ve discussed what this creature is, we should turn to how best to deal with it.”

Carewyn frowned deeply. ‘Rid ourselves of it?’ You just said it was harmless!

Her eyes drifted down to her desk absently as she considered this. 

“...The Ghoul Task Force would probably be able to help,” Carewyn said quietly. “They’re supposed to relocate ghouls, if they’re somewhere they’re not supposed to be...”

Despite the politeness of the answer, Rakepick scoffed.

“I avoid interacting with the Ministry of Magic and its multitude of extraneous departments as much as possible,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Besides...I’m here to teach you how to defend yourselves, not to have others do it for you.”

She then returned her gaze to Carewyn a bit more sharply.

“So? What spell would you use, to remove this ghoul from my classroom?”

Carewyn stared Rakepick down, her eyes narrowing that bit more.

I could always paralyze it, she thought to herself. A full Body-Bind or Freezing Charm would stop it from getting away. Even Shrinking it would make it easier to pick up and carry out of here...

She then glanced at the ghoul beside Rakepick, which was currently creeping around under Rakepick’s desk, drool spilling out from between its crooked teeth as he peeked around at everyone. 

But ghouls are supposed to be harmless. I don’t want to terrify the poor thing, just because it’s being a bit of a nuisance...

Carewyn straightened up, sticking her chin out a bit. 

“...I’d use the Sleeping Charm,” she said. “Then it’d fall asleep, and I could Levitate it somewhere safer while it was sleeping.”

Rakepick raised her eyebrows, before her lips spread into another smirk.

“Very inventive,” she said quietly. “And quite advanced too, considering the Sleeping Charm isn’t typically taught until one’s sixth year.”

Her eyes went to Ben like a shot, and the Gryffindor once again tensed up.

“I do recall hearing that you’re supposed to be quite gifted at Charms, Mr. Copper,” Rakepick said very coolly. “Would you care to demonstrate Miss Cromwell’s choice of spell for us, on this ghoul?”

Ben looked incredibly reluctant. He glanced from Carewyn to Rakepick.

“Uh -- well, I -- ”

Rakepick’s eyes narrowed upon Ben’s face. It made Ben tense up that bit more, and he glanced at Carewyn again anxiously.

It’s okay, Ben, Carewyn tried to mentally urge him. You can do it.

Ben swallowed. Clenching his jaw, he shakily got to his feet, glancing from the ghoul to Carewyn to up at Rakepick and then back to the ghoul. He took several deep breaths as he pointed his wand at the ghoul.

“...Levisomnus!” he choked out at last. 

The spell collided with the ghoul’s head. The creature seemed to sway -- then, with a stupid grin winding its way onto its face, it flumped down onto the ground, snoring peacefully.

Rakepick tapped the sleeping ghoul very lightly with the toe of her boot. 

“Not bad,” she said lowly. “Not bad at all.”

Her eyes once again flitted to Ben critically, making the Gryffindor flinch. He tried in vain to put on a brave face as Rakepick turned back to the rest of her class. 

“Now, of course, for those of you who haven’t sought out Filius Flitwick’s good graces by reading ahead, there are easier ways, to remove such creatures. A Full-Body-Bind, for instance, or perhaps a Freezing Charm. Even the Shrinking Charm would be a good way to ‘bring this beast down to size...’”

“What about Incendio?” Ismelda asked eagerly. 

Liz looked horrified. “You don’t need to do that! Ghouls are gentle creatures -- you don’t need to attack them...”

“I didn’t mean burn the thing,” Ismelda said defensively, “I just meant to scare it out of wherever it is.”

“Contrary to what you might think, Ismelda, scaring people is never okay,” reproached Carewyn. “And neither is scaring innocent creatures.”

“I thought this was Defense Against the Dark Arts, not Moralizing 101,” Merula said scathingly. “Do I have to send yet another note to Snape asking to ship you off to Gryffindor, Cromwell?”

“We’d happily take her, Merula,” Charlie shot back with a mischievous grin. “Reckon it’s only ‘cause of Carey that you lot have won the House Cup the last four years...”

Rap-rap-rap-rap.

Rakepick had brought everyone in the class to complete silence simply by tapping her wand on her desk.

“As very entertaining as this discussion is,” she said dryly, “you can indulge in it after class time. For now, I would like you each to come up and take a turn with restraining this ghoul. You may use whatever method you would like, so long as it is effective and does not cause permanent damage. Miss Murk, as creative as I find your idea, I would politely discourage it for the interim -- there are quite a few flammable things in here that I would be greatly displeased to lose.”

And so one by one, all of the students -- aside from Ben, who’d already had his turn -- came up to overcome the ghoul. Some, like Tonks, used techniques Rakepick had suggested -- Merula in particular earned praise from Rakepick for her demonstration of the Full Body-Bind. Others got creative. Diego used Incarcerous to bind the ghoul with ropes he’d materialized from his wand. Liz materialized butterflies out of her wand and let the ghoul wander across the room in its attempt to catch and eat them. Barnaby actually disregarded his wand altogether and physically picked up the ghoul, hugging it so securely against his chest that the ghoul could only squirm like a toddler throwing a tantrum until the muscular Slytherin boy put it down again. 

By the end of class, Rakepick looked quite pleased.

“Well done, class. It seems that despite your substandard instruction to this point, you’ve managed to learn quite a bit about how to defend yourselves. Now all that’s left to do is to give you more knowledge about the Dark Arts themselves, so that you can continue on that road toward self-sufficiency.”

Her eyes lingered on Merula in particular, whose face was spread into a big, eager grin. Then she turned her focus back to the rest of the class. 

As the students all rose to leave, however, Rakepick added over her shoulder,

“Miss Cromwell, I’d like a word after class.”

Carewyn glanced at Charlie and Ben -- the second eldest Weasley looked surprised and a bit curious, while his dormmate looked incredibly uncertain. 

Offering Ben a reassuring smile, Carewyn then fixed a much more stoic expression on her face as she faced Rakepick again. As the rest of the class filed out, the fifth year Slytherin walked over to Rakepick’s desk, behind which the professor had sat down. 

Sickleworth gave a delighted little gurgle at the sight of Carewyn. He gave a running jump, and Carewyn had to open her hands quickly in order to catch the plump little Niffler.

“Aww,” Carewyn couldn’t help but smile indulgently as she rocked him, “hey, little guy -- it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Sickleworth cooed happily as he nuzzled the inside of Carewyn’s arm. 

“It appears that Sickleworth’s missed you,” Rakepick said lightly. “A very unusual thing, as you might expect -- Sickleworth doesn’t become attached to just anyone.” 

Carewyn’s smile left her face as she looked up at Rakepick, scratching Sickleworth’s neck absently. 

“...You wanted to speak to me?” she asked lowly. 

“Indeed,” said Rakepick. Her lips had curled up again in that arrogant smirk again. “I wanted to congratulate you, for earning the position of Slytherin Prefect. I daresay it will make your search for the Cursed Vaults easier, to now have the power to patrol the castle corridors after hours.”

Carewyn’s lips knit together tightly. Although it was true that yes, she may have thought this at the beginning, that being allowed to walk around the school at night would give her more time to find the next Vault, she sure as Hell wasn’t going to let Rakepick know that.

“I didn’t become a Prefect for my own sake,” she said sharply. “Professor Snape entrusted the position to me, and I intend to respect that trust.”

Rakepick’s expression only seemed more amused. “It is impressive that you were able to earn Severus Snape’s confidence. Especially considering just how many rules you’ve broken, while pursuing the Cursed Vaults.”

I didn’t want to break any rules. I wouldn’t have broken any of them at all, if it weren’t for Jacob -- if it weren’t for you and Dumbledore and everyone else somehow not being able to break the Vaults’ curses before I did -- 

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed that bit more, but she didn’t answer. Instead she turned her focus down to Sickleworth as she continued to pet him.

Rakepick’s gaze seemed to soften ever-so-slightly as soon as Carewyn was no longer looking at her. She watched Carewyn scratch under Sickleworth’s chin, her expression losing its smirk and becoming much more solemn.

“You seem to have forgiven Mr. Copper very quickly, after what happened last year,” said the professor.

Carewyn didn’t look up. 

“What happened wasn’t Ben’s fault,” she said softly. 

“So you believe his testimony?” Rakepick pressed her. “That he was controlled against his will?”

“Of course I do,” Carewyn said without skipping a beat. “Ben was just as scared as anyone, after what happened. He didn’t know who was controlling him.”

“Do not forget the lesson you just finished, Miss Cromwell,” Rakepick said grimly. “Appearances can often be deceiving. And as noble as trusting in your friends can seem...in the end, the only person you can truly rely on is yourself. Don’t let your affection for your friends blind you to that.”

Carewyn looked up at Rakepick, her narrowed blue eyes flashing. 

“This isn’t about trust,” she shot back coldly. “This is about me knowing Ben’s character well enough that I know he wouldn’t do something like this out of his own choice. He’s not the sort of person who would seek out the Cursed Vaults on his own volition, nor is he the sort of person who would ever attack his friends.”

Ben’s always been an honest person. You can see it, just by looking in his eyes. He doesn’t hide who he is or how he feels -- not like you. 

Rakepick’s lips came together tightly as Carewyn turned her focus back down to Sickleworth, rubbing his tummy in an attempt to distract him from his restless fidgeting. 

“Ben Copper is fortunate to have earned your faith,” she said darkly. “One can only hope that he won’t foolishly dash it.”

She clicked her teeth twice. At once, Sickleworth straightened up in Carewyn’s arms, before jumping right out of them so he could scamper up Rakepick’s arm and curl up on her shoulder. 

“The next Vault’s curse hasn’t activated yet,” Rakepick said brusquely, “but given the pattern set by the last four years, I don’t think it’s unlikely that it will, soon enough. When that happens, I would like your help to find the Vault and break its curse before anyone gets hurt.”

Carewyn raised her eyebrows.

“I thought you said the only person you can truly rely on is yourself,” she said very coolly. 

“Indeed I did,” said Rakepick just as coolly. “But you and I will both need help, if we’re to find that Vault. You do want to find your brother, don’t you?”

“Of course,” said Carewyn. “I just don’t trust you to help me.”

Rakepick cocked her eyebrows. 

“That’s disappointing to hear,” she said, “considering I saved your life not too long ago.”

There was a slight, passive-aggressive charge to the words -- like a chiding tap to the nose. 

Carewyn’s red lips curled up in a completely humorless smile as she turned on her heel. 

“Sorry, Professor -- but I’m afraid I’m not much for trusting anyone. Don’t take it personally.”

She glanced over her shoulder, gaging whether Rakepick was going to tell her not to leave. When she didn’t, she turned and walked off, right out of the classroom. 

Rakepick watched Carewyn go, her lips twitching with the traces of a small, dark smile despite herself.

I’m afraid I’m not much for trusting anyone.

In the end, the only person you can truly rely on is yourself.

She and Carewyn Cromwell truly were very much alike. 

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #my writing #gameplay #patricia rakepick #carewyn cromwell #ben copper #merula snyde #ismelda murk #liz tuttle #nymphadora tonks #charlie weasley #aesthetic #fanfiction

[belvoirhq]

enrollment has been afforded to the following SIXTEEN students at our esteemed institution . tysm to everyone that has applied , links to the discord server will be sent to you pending your acceptance !

╰・𓆩♱𓆪 ⠀ ⋆ ⠀ (cis female, she / her, liz gillies) is that VERONICA DANTES, the LAW JUNIOR who is also a DIAMOND? don’t they live in HESTER HALL? i didn’t know they were back in belvoir already. rumor has it that they're VENGEFUL but their friends say they're LOYAL. i also heard that SHE HAD AN ABORTION AFTER GETTING PREGNANT BY SOMEONE SHE WASNT SUPPOSED TO BE WITH. i wonder what this new school year holds for them.

╰・𓆩♱𓆪 ⠀ ⋆ ⠀ (former lover for ophelia & resident trouble maker, cismale, he/him, cris calenda) is that LORENZO MORETTI III , the ARCHITECTURE SENIOR who is also a L’ODRE DU DIAMONT ? don’t they live in DÒMHNALL HALL ? i didn’t know they were back in belvoir already. rumor has it that they're SHORT-TEMPERED but their friends say they're LOYAL. i also heard that HE RUNS AN UNDERGROUND FIGHT CLUB AND COLLECTS MONEY FOR BETS. i wonder what this new school year holds for them. 

╰・❀ ⠀ ⋆ ⠀ (cis female, she/her, olivia rodrigo) is that SYLVIE ORTEGA , the DIPLOMACY AND INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS SOPHOMORE who is also a MASK ? don’t they live in HESTER HALL ? i didn’t know they were back in belvoir already. rumor has it that they're CYNICAL but their friends say they're CARING. i also heard that HER FORMER SENATOR-TURNED-DIPLOMAT MOTHER WHO IS THE LEADER OF THE OPPOSITION GOT ASSIGNED THE CUSHY AMBASSADOR TO THE US JOB BECAUSE THEY HAD AN AGREEMENT WITH THE DICTATOR PRESIDENT TO LOOK THE OTHER WAY FOR THEIR CORRUPTION. i wonder what this new school year holds for them.

╰・𓆩♱𓆪 ⠀ ⋆ ⠀ (cis male, he/him, 22, rudy pankow) is that JOEY EMERSON, the LEGAL MANAGEMENT JUNIOR who is also a DIAMOND ? don’t they live in PITTMAN HALL ? i didn’t know they were back in belvoir already. rumor has it that they're COCKY/OBNOXIOUS but their friends say they're FUNNY. i also heard that HIS DAD PAID JOEY’S WAY INTO BELVOIR. i wonder what this new school year holds for them.

╰・𓆩♱𓆪 ⠀ ⋆ ⠀ (the leader of the masks, demi girl, twenty two, she / they, leah halton) is that YASMINA AL FAHIDI , the POLITICAL SCIENCE JUNIOR who is also a MASK ? don’t they live in HESTER HALL ? i didn’t know they were back in belvoir already. rumor has it that they're POWER HUNGRY but their friends say they're AMBITIOUS. i also heard that THEY RUN A REVENGE PORN WEBSITE CONTAINING THE LEAKED NUDES OF DOZENS OF THEIR PEERS THAT HAVE CROSSED THEM ONE WAY OR THE OTHER. i wonder what this new school year holds for them. 

╰・𓆩♱𓆪 ⠀ ⋆ ⠀ (the dean's son, agender, he/xe, twenty three, bright vachirawit) is that KITTICHAT 'KIT' SAELIM WINTHORPE , the FOURTH YEAR who is also a MASK ? don’t they live in PITTMAN ? i didn’t know they were back in belvoir already. rumor has it that they're MANIPULATIVE but their friends say they're PROTECTIVE. i also heard that ( TW CAR ACCIDENT ) HE WAS THE DRIVER IN A HIT AND RUN LAST SEMESTER AND DROVE OFF LEAVING THE VICTIM BEHIND. i wonder what this new school year holds for them.

╰・𓆩♱𓆪 ⠀ ⋆ ⠀ (the new leader of the diamonds / former rival of ophelia, ciswoman, she/her, twenty-four, mia goth) is that VIOLETTA WILLIAMS , the HISTORY SENIOR who is also a DIAMOND ? don’t they live in HESTER HALL ? i didn’t know they were back in belvoir already. rumor has it that they're VENGEFUL but their friends say they're TENDER-HEARTED. i also heard that HER FATHER'S A CON-MAN. i wonder what this new school year holds for them. 

╰・𓆩♱𓆪 ⠀ ⋆ ⠀ (cismale, he/him, nicholas galitzine) is that DORIAN CROMWELL , the THEATRE JUNIOR who is also a MASK ? don’t they live in DOMHNALL HALL ? i didn’t know they were back in belvoir already. rumor has it that they're SLY but their friends say they're WRY. i also heard that ( tw: suicide ) HE WAS INVOLVED IN A SUICIDE PACT WITH A FELLOW MASK THAT ONLY HE SURVIVED, BUT HIS FAMILY PAID THE OTHER FAMILY OFF FOR THEIR SILENCE AND HE SPENT TOOK A YEAR OFF SCHOOL TO BE IN A MENTAL INSTITUTE. i wonder what this new school year holds for them.

╰・𓆩♱𓆪 ⠀ ⋆ ⠀ (little miss nobody / ophelia’s twin sister, cis woman, she/her, twenty’3, bridget satterlee) is that LEONA ALBRECHT , the PERFORMING ARTS SENIOR who is also a DIAMOND ? don’t they live in PITTMAN HALL ? i didn’t know they were back in belvoir already. rumor has it that they're HEEDLESS but their friends say they're FREE-SPIRITED. i also heard that THE ONLY REASON SHE LEFT TO “STUDY ABOARD” LAST SEMESTER WAS BECAUSE SHE WAS PREGNANT. i wonder what this new school year holds for them.

╰・𓆩♱𓆪 ⠀ ⋆ ⠀ tw car accident,  drugs,  substance abuse  (cis man, he/him, twenty-three, alex fitzalan) is that FRANCIS WYMACK , the CLASSICS JUNIOR who is also a MASK ? don’t they live in DÒMHNALL HALL ? i didn’t know they were back in belvoir already. rumor has it that they're OBSESSIVE but their friends say they're CANDID. i also heard that HE WAS INVOLVED IN A DRUNK DRIVING ACCIDENT AND ALTHOUGH HIS ARREST AND DETAILS OF IT WERE SUPPRESSED FROM BEING PUBLIC, HIS FAMILY COULDN’T BUY HIS WAY OUT OF A FOUR MONTH MANDATED REHAB OVER THE SUMMER WHEN EVERYONE THOUGHT HE WAS JUST VACATIONING IN MYKONOS. i wonder what this new school year holds for them.

╰・𓆩♱𓆪 ⠀ ⋆ ⠀ tw murder !! witnessing a crime !! (cis woman, 22, she/her, madelyn cline) is that MARGARET ST. JAMES MONROE , the EDUCATION SENIOR who is also a L’ORDRE DU DIAMANT? don’t they live in HESTER HALL ? i didn’t know they were back in belvoir already. rumor has it that they're CYNICAL but their friends say they're FRIENDLY. i also heard that SHE WITNESSED OPHELIA’S MURDER AFTER A HUGE FIGHT. SHE HAS NO IDEA WHO DID IT– SHE CAN’T HELP BUT THINK IT WAS HER FAULT. i wonder what this new school year holds for them.

╰・𓆩♱𓆪 ⠀ ⋆ ⠀ (cis woman, she/her, twenty two, nailea devora) is that VICTORIA ‘TORI’ CABRERA , the FASHION DESIGN JUNIOR who is also a DIAMOND ? don’t they live in PITTMAN HALL ? i didn’t know they were back in belvoir already. rumor has it that they're GRUDGING but their friends say they're METICULOUS. i also heard that SHE’S AN ILLEGITIMATE CHILD OF A FAMOUS ACTOR HER MOTHER HAD A FLING WITH AND USES HER MOTHER’S MAIDEN NAME TO HIDE THE POTENTIAL SCANDAL. i wonder what this new school year holds for them.

╰・𓆩♱𓆪 ⠀ ⋆ ⠀ TW: DRUG USE, REHAB. (cis man, he/him, twenty-three, nico hiraga) is that KENJI 'KJ' ROTHSCHILD , the ENVIRONMENTAL SCIENCE SENIOR who is also a MASK ? don’t they live in PITTMAN HALL ? i didn’t know they were back in belvoir already. rumor has it that they're DEGENERATE but their friends say they're CHARISMATIC. i also heard that HE ALMOST OVERDOSED LAST SEMESTER AND HAD TO LEAVE SCHOOL TO ATTEND REHAB BUT HE'S ALREADY RELAPSED AND IS TRYING TO HIDE IT. i wonder what this new school year holds for them.

╰・𓆩♱𓆪 ⠀ ⋆ ⠀ (nonbinary , he / they , 23 , luca fersko) is that SANTIAGO ACCARDI , the FINE ARTS JUNIOR who is also a DIAMOND ? don’t they live in DOMHNALL HALL ? i didn’t know they were back in belvoir already. rumor has it that they're SELFISH but their friends say they're ECLECTIC. i also heard that THEY WERE THE MASTERMIND OF A BLING RING THAT TARGETED OLD MONEY. i wonder what this new school year holds for them.

╰・𓆩♱𓆪 ⠀ ⋆ ⠀ (the witness & daughter of sheriff & ophelia's former roommate , ciswoman , she/her , 24 , chase sui wonders) is that DAIYU ALIGHIERI, the PERFORMATIVE ARTS SENIOR who is also a DIAMOND ? don’t they live in HESTER HALL ? i didn’t know they were back in belvoir already. rumor has it that they're UNSTABLE but their friends say they're PASSIONATE. i also heard that SHE'S A STALKER (AND ROBBED OPHELIA'S ITEMS AFTER HER DEATH). i wonder what this new school year holds for them.

╰・𓆩♱𓆪 ⠀ ⋆ ⠀ (cisman , he / him , 23 , mason gooding) is that VINCENT WINDSOR , the ENGLISH LITERATURE JUNIOR who is also a MASK ? don’t they live in PITTMAN HALL ? i didn’t know they were back in belvoir already. rumor has it that they're INSINCERE but their friends say they're INSIGHTFUL. i also heard that HE'S HIS FATHER'S GHOSTWRITER. i wonder what this new school year holds for them. 

#accepted #rich kids rp #secrets rp #skeleton rp #university rp #mumu rp #semi appless rp

[the-fiction-witch]

Maxwell House

TV SHOW WOLF HALL COUPLE RAFE X READER RATING: SWEET

Marriage is a funny thing. 

It's complicated, messy and sometimes benefits knowone in the end. 

But still for all of us it's unavoidable. 

I knew someday I would have to be married, this was something I long understood as well as knowing my choice, opinions and feelings were all but irrelevant. 

For some people in the world, castle maids and stable boys marriage can be for love or at the very least for lust. But even then sometimes for the sake of standing and coin you can be sold off still. 

The higher you go the more likely that becomes and the concept of love is laughed at. 

And I knew I could not escape this, I may have been born in a humble life, my father convinced the lord cromwell to take me in, teach me in the ways of business and of course as the time he was not the high level he is now. 

I understood I would likely be married for the sake of business I had long come to terms with that fact, even if my heart so desperately longed to wed cromwell's eldest daughter, she was younger then me admittedly but I had grown so close with her we would talk often in the house often reading together of a dusky evening but nothing more. By the time cromwell entered the king's more direct service I understood we were Moving up on the world, going to court, to meetings to the king. I knew then that I had no hope. She would be arranged and wedded off to a lord and I'd be traded off for business even if it still hurt me when… when we lost the girls.

Liz had become like a mother to me, the girls my sister's when we lost them or broke us all. I like cromwell just focused on the work at hand we had enough weddings to worry about with the king and his so rapid changing favours. But one day he called me to his office.

"You asked to see me my lord"

"Of course yes. Come in rafe" he nods as he pushed away some paperwork I nodded and took a seat across the desk from him as he toyed with some papers "your not getting any younger, are you rafe?"

"No sir"

"Sometimes I look at you and can be convinced you are" he laughs making me chuckle a little

"Sometimes when looking in the mirror I admit I fool myself that"

"Many boys your age have long since formed their own households" he says "I know you have always been one to put yourself fully into your work rafe but, I think we both know the time has come" he says 

And regrettably I nodded I knew it was time any longer it would be a struggle to go at all "I have been in communication with your father, as I agreed as part of your training that I would help to make sure you got a good match and after some… debating we have arranged a match for you"

"You have?" I asked a little surprised

"Do you recall of the Y/l/n's?"

"Briefly my lord, often times in passing"

"They have a daughter"

"They do? I have not heard of her?" I pondered I had heard of the y/l/n's connections to the earl of lincoln and if I recall they had an impressive Manor somewhat snuggly on the cambridge and lincolnshire border, I know the Lord for long well with lord norfolk and often was with him in times of importance. But I had never heard of their daughter, never seen her at court or even heard mention of her perhaps she was kept a secret as many women in lordly families are to prevent issues arising. 

"We discussed the match at length and she is happy if you are"

"I would be happy" I nodded 

"Good we'll get it finalized then" he nods "I'd suggest you start packing" 

I nodded and headed out to my room looking at the life I had accumulated since I had been here, to think I was to be married, I'd be lord of the Maxwell house, married to the daughter of the y/l/n's.

I made sure I had everything I wanted to take with me, I said my goodbyes and climbed on my horse. I followed the staff member who has come to help take me out to the house who was currently pulling my belongings onna cart and I followed behind them making sure nothing was lost. We journeyed for a fair while before I saw it on the horizon this tall sticking stone house with vast fields and gardens surrounding it the began unpacking my things and I was greeted by the lord himself

"Ahh master rafe Sadler, my son in law to be" he smiled giving me a hug which I accepted a little unsure what else to say "as handsome as they said." He laughs

"Indeed" the lady smiled "I'm sure our daughter will be thrilled to meet you" she smiled as we headed inside it was a beautiful house with dark wood fixings an impressive chandelier and all sorts of other beautiful items 

"Would I be able to meet her?"

"Not until your wedding she's rather… privet girl" 

I accepted that and headed up to a small guest room for the next couple of days.