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lambroseforlife · 4 years

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Well, this has been sitting in my drafts for a while now. After sudden renewed inspiration and a bunch of half-done research over a year later, here goes nothing. I felt that the best setup for this would take place between books 2 and 3 so maybe like 2 months after returning from Egypt? For those that are squeamish and dont like stuff about periods then duh, skip reading this.

— — —

'Blast it all!' I huffed as I dropped the stack of boxes on the floor. Pretty sizable ones, by the noticeable thump as they hit the ground.

'Mr Linton.' I heard a curt voice. Looking up, I stared into a pair of cold, familiar eyes.

'Yes, sir?' I grimaced at him. It was much easier than smiling when your ribs were aching and lungs wheezing for air.

'You are two minutes and twenty-three seconds slower than you were yesterday.' Snapping his pocket watch closed, he tucked it back into his waistcoat pocket. His gaze flickered back to me. 'I do not pay you for your tardiness.'

'No, sir.' I beamed. Well, I tried to anyway. 'Just for my delightful company.'

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. His mouth parted slightly as if to retort but then closed.

I made the mistake of looking into that glacial, intense stare of his and felt trapped. But I didn't want to escape. Not when I felt like I could forget my worries and problems from the rest of the world when it was just him and me. His gaze held mine and I had to suppress the urge to shiver. Not out of fear, though.

A flash of images came to mind. Soft lips melded to mine. Ripped clothing on a hotel bed. Cold desert nights spent in strong, comforting arms.

Snapping out of my daze, I shook my head.

'I...' I cleared my throat and glanced away. 'I better get a move on. Wouldn't want to waste time.'

Without waiting for a reply, I hurried back into my office and closed the door without looking back.

I met my reflection in the glass windows overlooking the tall buildings of London on a typical gloomy morning. If I squinted hard enough, I could see a blush forming on her cheeks.

Get a hold of yourself, Lilly!

This past month I had been polishing my acting skills. By that, I meant pretending that certain things in Egypt had never happened. In general, both my employer and I had smoothly settled into a routine that, well, made it seem that Egypt had never happened once we both returned back to London two months ago. A bit too smoothly, actually.

Although there were times when our gazes would linger on each other for one moment too long just like earlier...

Enough, Lilly! Back to work.

Marching back to my desk, I sat down and stretched. What was wrong with me today? I slept mostly decently last night, save for waking up late with some soreness in my lower back—

Plink.

Opening the metal tube on my desk, I unfolded the paper.

Mr Linton,

It is already thirty-two minutes past nine and I fail to see my daily correspondence on my desk.

Rikkard Ambrose

So we were back to communicating through notes now, were we? Flipping it over, I picked up the fountain pen on my desk and began to write.

Dear Mr Ambrose,

On it immediately, sir.

Yours, Lilly Linton

I folded the note and placed it back into the tube, pulling the lever. I opened one of the desk drawers and found the pile of letters Mr Stone had left for me to sort through. Pulling them out, I began to go through them when I heard a gurgling noise. I looked around, confused. Then I heard it again.

What was that noise? It sounded like it was coming from someone's— oh.

As if in protest, my stomach growled even louder.

Right. Another thing I forgot to do this morning after waking up late.

Well, times like these called for extra measures. Opening another desk drawer, I found out my treasured stash of chocolate and grabbed a bar.

Not exactly the healthiest option for breakfast but so what? It was chocolate!

Unwrapping the bar, I began to sort through the stack of letters for Mr Ambrose's correspondence for the day. I managed to finish going through it in under five minutes too— both the stack of letters and the bar of chocolate.

No sooner after sitting back down at my desk once I passed the letters through the letter slot at Mr Ambrose's door, I heard another plink.

I removed the letter from the tube and picked it up, beginning to read.

Mr Linton,

Why are there brown fingerprints on my correspondence?

Rikkard Ambrose

I frowned. What brown fingerprints was he referring to? Setting the note down on the table, I was about to reach for the charity letters in the waste paper basket when I noticed something odd about the note.

Upon further inspection, there were brown fingerprints on there too! But how did it get there? Where was it coming from?

Wait...

Slowly, I looked at my fingers and then at the wrapper of the finished chocolate bar. Then my fingers. Then the wrapper again.

Oops.

Wiping my fingers and the pen on my trousers, I thought about how to explain my slight predicament.

Dear Mr Ambrose,

There was a small accident while sorting your correspondence. I fixed it immediately so it shall not happen again.

Yours, Lilly Linton

That should suffice. I sent the letter through the tube and took out the small appointment book with all of Mr Ambrose's scheduled meetings. I had barely opened it to the current week when I heard another plink.

Mr Linton,

What do you mean by 'small accident'?

Rikkard Ambrose

Darn! I thought I had gotten away with it. I picked up the pen to write again.

Dear Mr Ambrose,

Just a small, teensy-weensy, tiny incident that is barely of any consequence. Really, no need to worry yourself. I've taken care of it.

Yours, Lilly Linton

Not even ten seconds had passed until the next plink.

Mr Linton,

Do not test my patience. Tell me what happened.

Rikkard Ambrose

Blast! He wasn't going to let this go, was he? Chewing my lip, I picked up the pen with sweaty palms. What to write this time?

Dear Mr Ambrose,

The aforementioned incident was minor, completely inconsequential. Not even a small accident, really. Just a small inconvenience involving chocolate.

Yours, Lilly Linton

With bated breath and my heart ready to jump out of my chest, I pulled the lever.

Perhaps he would move on from it?

Ha, as if! This was Mr Ambrose I was talking about here. Getting the Queen to dance on the rooftops of Buckingham Palace in her undergarments would have been more likely to happen.

As if on cue, icy silence radiated from behind the door to his office. The kind of silence that preceded judgment from kings before they gave the order for executions.

Now to any person, silence was just silence. But not with Mr Ambrose. As his secretary, I knew that there were at least ten types of silences after a few months of being in his employ.

Seconds stretched into minutes until finally...

Plink!

Holding my breath, I unfolded the letter.

Mr Linton,

I do not pay you to eat on the job as my secretary. There is a designated 30 minute break appointed in the afternoon for that. See to it that there are no more 'small inconveniences' to distract you. Knowledge is power is time is money.

Rikkard Ambrose

I suppose that could have gone worse than expected. Considering the incident at his factory two weeks ago. Also the other business deal from the other day. And...

Well, you get the picture.

Sighing, I set the note aside and decided to start on the day's tasks. Hopefully today would just be another day at work that would pass by quickly.

It wasn't until later that I realized just how wrong I was.

— — —

A few hours later, I was in the process of organising new files to be added to Mr Ambrose's already endless file collection when it happened.

I felt a building pressure in my lower abdomen, on the verge of becoming an entirely uncomfortable pressure in my lower regions.

Wonderful. Another thing that I had forgotten to do before leaving the house this morning.

Getting up slowly and carefully, I headed towards Mr Ambrose's door and knocked.

'Enter.' Came the composed, cool voice that I knew by heart at this point.

Shuffling into the room, I saw that Mr Ambrose surrounded by a pile of papers on his desk as usual, reading an opened file in front of him.

'Ehem.' I cleared my throat.

'What is it?' He didn't look up from the file.

I contemplated how to tell him that I needed to pee in the most delicate manner that I could currently manage. I decided to settle with:

'I need to use the powder room.'

He glanced up at me, then quickly back to his papers.

'Go in.' He jerked his head towards the direction of the small door that led to his personal bathroom.

Without expelling the contents of my bladder, I walked as fast I could to the door and shut it behind me. Dropping my trousers, I sat on the toilet to relieve myself.

This was one of those times when wearing trousers was more convenient than wearing a dress and hoop skirt. Once I finished my business, I was ready to pull up my trousers and get back to work.

That's when it happened.

That's when I saw it.

A small, reddish stain on the nether region of my brown trousers.

Oh no.

No.

No, no, no, nononono !

No! No! No!

Why now?

Well, that nasty inner voice in the back of my mind retorted, that explains everything so far today.

My sore back, waking up late, feeling sluggish and extra emotional, craving for chocolate. It all made sense now but...

I frantically tried to think back to when was the last time this happened. Let's see...sometime shortly after I had returned back to London after the Egypt trip. But why wasn't this an issue then?

Because, my inner voice piped up again, you were home on a Sunday afternoon when it started.

Blast! What was I going to do now?

I went over my options.

Option 1: Try to endure the rest of the day and hope that no one would notice. I could even tie my tailcoat around my waist. It would definitely look odd and probably rouse suspicion but maybe it could work?

Yeah, right. If you bleed through your tailcoat too, then you're done for. Say goodbye to your job.

Couldn't that inner voice of mine shut up already! Why did it have to be so rational?

Option 2: Resign my job before I would be found out.

Definitely not happening. Not when I had been through so much for this job including leaving the country twice and risking my life multiple times. There was no way that I, Lilly Linton, ifrit extraordinaire, would let something like this get in the way of my independence.

Which left option 3: Ask Mr Ambrose if I could take my lunch break early to go home and change.

Just the idea made me want to disappear on the spot. It was embarrassing enough that this had to happen but having to involve my boss too? This made the situation more dreadful a hundred times over. But...

What other choice did I have? Unfortunately, this was the best option compared to the other two.

Closing my eyes, I couldn't help but to let out a loud sigh.

Remember what I said earlier about trousers being convenient? I take it all back. This was definitely one of those times when wearing trousers was definitely not convenient! If I was wearing a dress, then there may have been a chance that I could have held on a bit until lunch break. But there was no choice, I needed to go home immediately to change my trousers and retrieve that.

However, the bigger issue was how to convince Mr Ambrose to let me take my lunch break earlier. What to tell him?

Mr Ambrose, I'm feeling a bit ill and would like to take a break.

Great. That would give him the grounds to dismiss me for the day, possibly even sack me, especially after what happened earlier with the chocolate.

My younger sister, Ella, has food poisoning and I need to check on her.

Nope. Mr Ambrose would be moved to sympathy as much as a mountain could budge.

My aunt has arranged a meeting with a prospective suitor for me this afternoon.

Not convincing in the slightest considering that Mr Ambrose knew that I would do anything to avoid the topic of marriage. Especially when it involved me.

Drat! What could I say?

Unbidden, another thought popped into my head.

Why not just tell him the truth?

What? As if that would ever work!

Not to mention, a woman's....time was a taboo topic. Despite my mother's early death and limited knowledge provided by my aunt, even I knew that was something proper ladies did not discuss with gentlemen in society. It was highly inappropriate.

But then again, since when were you a proper lady?

Good point. It's not like Mr Ambrose was a gentleman either by any means.

Still, the main issue was that would Mr Ambrose be understanding even if I told him the truth?

I doubted that someone like him even knew something like that about females anyway, given that he most likely came out of a giant boulder. It was impossible to imagine him with a mother, let alone two human parents.

Enough stalling, Lilly! It's now or never.

Five minutes later, I stepped out of the bathroom after working up enough courage. Mr Ambrose was still flipping through the same file, not having moved from his position.

Standing in front of his desk, I cleared my throat. No response.

I tried to get his attention again. 'Mr Ambrose?'

'What is it, Mr Linton?' His eyes never left the file.

'Er, I was wondering if...I could take my lunch break now?'

Damn! Why did my voice sound so weak?

His hand paused, right in the middle of flipping a page. Slowly, ever so slowly, he raised his eyes to meet mine.

I swallowed.

'What did you say?' His voice was deceptively calm.

'Could I take my lunch break now?'

If his stare was cold before, it was frosty now.

'Mr Linton, did I or did I not mention earlier that there is a designated thirty minute break for all employees?'

'Um, you did, sir.' I looked down at the stone floor. For some reason, it was particularly interesting.

'So why are you asking me this?' He reached to grab another file from one of the piles on his table.

'Well,' I bit my lip. 'I had another accident.'

Silence.

I risked a glance upwards. He seemed frozen, his hand still holding onto the file, save for the narrowing of his eyes by 0.000013 of a millimetre.

'By any chance,' he finally ground out, 'is this "accident" of yours similar to what happened earlier?'

'No.'

'No?'

'No.' I repeated, my throat dry. Why was this so hard? 'A worse accident. Much, much worse.'

He cocked his head. 'How so?'

'It involves my identity.'

Based on his expression, he knew what I was referring to. While I was his personal secretary during working hours, it was as Mr Victor Linton, not as my true self, Miss Lillian Linton.

A female.

'Mr Linton.' His voice was soft. Too soft. Like the momentary stillness before a hurricane. 'What. Did. You. Do?'

'I- I didn't do anything!' Why the heck was I stuttering? 'Well, not yet anyway.'

'Yet?'

It was both impressive and a bit unnerving how ominous he made just one word sound. I felt like a mouse that had been cornered by a tiger.

'What is going on?' He demanded, eyes flashing. 'Tell me!'

I bit my lip and his eyes zeroed in on the action, following my every movement.

'I'm not sure how to bring this up since you haven't been out in society much but have you heard about a woman's time?'

'A woman's time for what?'

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. This really wasn't going to be easy, was it? 'There comes a time when a girl matures into a woman. Her body undergoes some physical changes and afterwards, every once in a while, she...'

Plop.

My voice trailed off when his hand let go of the file he was holding onto and it dropped back onto the table.

His mouth was now slightly ajar and his eyes were cast downwards, scanning the contents of his desk.

'Oh.' His voice didn't sound as collected as before.

'Yes.'

So he did know about it after all. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised as I was, given what he repeated about time and knowledge and all that. But still, considering this was Mr Ambrose...

'What do you expect me to do about that?'

'Huh?'

'Don't you females usually do something to deal with it?'

'Well...yes, but—'

'So do what you need to do. Stop wasting my time already.'

'That's the issue, sir.' I snapped at him, too annoyed to focus on the fact that he had acknowledged my gender. 'I need to go home and change. That's why I asked if I could take my lunch break now.'

'Why do you need to go home? Can't you do it here?'

I nearly choked. That hardheaded, miserly head of his was really made of stone!

'I don't have any extra clothes here and what I use to take care of it is also at home too.'

He just stared at me.

I shrugged. 'I mean, I suppose I can wait until later to take my break. You'll have to risk my true identity being exposed once your workers see me bleeding all over the—'

'Mr Linton!'

Oh my. Was it just me or were his ears now tinged a bit red?

Pressing my palms into the table, I leaned forward. 'Or you could let me go home now and get this taken care of so I can get back to work sooner.'

He leaned forward as well, sea-coloured eyes clashing with hazel ones.

'Indeed, Mr Linton?' I felt his breath on my lips.

I arched an eyebrow. 'Indeed, Mr Ambrose.'

'Very well then.' He straightened back into his chair and picked up the file he dropped.

'W-What?' I blinked.

'You may take your lunch break now.'

'Really?' I stared at him in shock.

I couldn't believe it had actually worked! This was Mr Ambrose we were talking about here. I had half expected him to tell me something ridiculous along the lines of controlling my body's functions and to stop bleeding. It wouldn't have been the first time he had said something like that anyway.

'I don't like to repeat myself. Go now.'

My face broke out into a broad smile. 'Yes, sir!'

'Also, see to it that this doesn't happen again.' His stare was disapproving.

'You mean taking an early lunch break? Or are you referring to my other problem? Because I don't know how to break this to you but—'

'The clock is ticking, Mr Linton.'

'Yes, sir!' I gave a salute and left his office.

— — —

It's surprising really, what one can accomplish during a time of emergency. If you were to ask me how I was able to go back home, change my clothes and even eat an early lunch on my way back to Empire house all within the span of thirty minutes, I would tell you that I had no idea it was at all possible until today.

Maybe it was possibly due to luck? That certainly seemed to play a factor as the only people home were my uncle, locked up in his study as usual, and Leadfield, cleaning out the attic. It was a good thing too, since I hadn't bothered to change back into a dress in the garden shed before climbing through my bedroom window.

I was able to obtain some linen rags designated for times like these (part of the wonderful experience of being a female) and changed into another pair of my uncle's old trousers. I even packed extra rags in my briefcase, something I probably should have done in the first place. But eh, better late than never, I suppose.

Since I had five minutes to spare on my return back to Empire House, I was able to buy a sandwich and eat it on the way. I was starting to understand the concept of efficiency, especially after working for Mr Ambrose. Huh, it might not actually be all that bad.

Thankfully, the rest of work passed by uneventfully. Once I returned to my office, I saw that Mr Ambrose had shut the door to his own once again. He still could tell that I had returned though, for I had just sat down at my desk when I was pelted with more tasks to complete for the rest of the day, including retrieving more files. But I was determined to work even harder to make up for this morning.

By the time I took a look at my pocket watch, it was already dark outside. Eight o'clock on the dot.

Packing up my things, I was ready to leave when the door to Mr Ambrose's office opened, revealing his tall, dark figure in the doorway.

'Would you step into my office for a moment, Mr Linton?'

'Why?'

'I have something I wish to discuss with you.'

'You can discuss it here.'

'I can, But I would prefer not to.'

'I would prefer to.'

'You do not get to decide, Mr Linton. My office, now. Close the door behind you.'

I reluctantly followed him, shutting the door behind me. He sat back down in his chair, his posture ramrod straight with crossed arms.

'In regards to the matter earlier today...' He began in a low voice.

'Yes?' Did I take more than thirty minutes to return? Were there more mistakes I had made after my break?

'Are you sure that you're fit to work?'

'What?'

'Are you fit to work with your current state?'

Was he being serious right now? Judging by the expression on his face (or lack thereof), I had to say that he was.

'Why wouldn't I be?'

'Given what has transpired earlier today, I have reason to believe so, Mr Linton.'

A spark of anger flared within me. 'Mr Ambrose, besides the two incidents that happened before my break, did I give you any other reason to believe otherwise?'

'Well, no.' He had the nerve to sound reluctant!

'Then yes, I am plenty fit to work.' I glared at him. 'Mr Ambrose, just because of I'm losing a bit of blood does not mean that I am incapacitated.'

He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

'Furthermore, I am not weak. Women are not weak. We have been dealing with this since the beginning of time and haven't let it get in the way of doing what needs to be done.'

'I never said that you were weak, Mr Linton.'

'Then what are you trying to say?'

'I...' Something flashed in his eyes so quickly before I completely identify it. Concern?

'Nothing, Mr Linton.' That granite mask of his was back in place. 'You are dismissed for the day.'

I turned to leave but then paused.

'Thank you.'

He looked up from the papers in front of him.

'For what?'

'For letting me take my break early today.'

For being more understanding than I expected you to be.

Our eyes met for a fathomless moment. He nodded once.

You're welcome.

I gave him a small smile. Spinning on my heel, I left his office, feeling his eyes trail behind my retreating figure the entire time.

I guess that today may not have been a completely bad day after all.

— — —

Wow, that was a pretty long read. Kudos if you made it to the end. This was just my take on periods if they ever came up in the SnS world. I’m kinda sad that it never did considering this was a series about women’s rights and numerous other “taboo” topics in the Victorian era have been brought up in the books such as bathroom habits, “amorous congress” and “protection” for said congress. Oh well. I was able to articles to find 2 articles that I used for reference to write this. I’ll share them in a reblog since my post wont show in the tags due to the links. There’s not much known about periods in the Victorian Era since it was a “taboo” subject but there are some tidbits here and there that I was able to base this off of.

#storm and silence #in the eye of the storm #lilly linton #rikkard ambrose #fanfiction #oneshot #kinda a prompt but not really #repost since it didnt show up in the tags the first time #stuffartsy #knowledgeispoweristimeismoney

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conncrfms · 4 years

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𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐫𝐤’𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭 , 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐁 𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐈 ! 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐬 @𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐦𝐳 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 . 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐦𝐳 , 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐡 . 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐧𝐲𝐜 , 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 . 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐬 . ( 𝐜𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 + 𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐢𝐦 ) + ( 𝐦𝐲𝐚 , 𝟏𝟗 , 𝐬𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫 , 𝐩𝐬𝐭 )

hi lovelies! allow me to introduce myself! my name is mya, you can reach me on discord for plots at ˗ˏˋ 𝐦𝐲𝐚 ˎˊ˗#8406 and i have never had a single cohesive thought in my life! now that that’s out of the way let me introduce you to my demon child connor! i spent literal hours on his intro and it’s still not good but that’s besides the point but for your best viewing experience you may wanna see it through his blog for the ~aesthetics~ anyways on with the intro!

triggers will be tagged and marked accordingly as they come up but here’s what to look out for: cheating tw, death tw, cancer tw, and alcohol tw

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒

𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄

bellamy connor livingston

𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒

bells

𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘

october 26th, 1997

𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇��

6″0′

𝐀𝐆𝐄

23 years old

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑

male

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐒

he/him

𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

ceo of premier event manangement / event planner

𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒

english

𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

bisexual

𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌

alex fitzalan

here is his childhood home, family vacation home, and his current home

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

bellamy connor livingston was born in MANHATTAN NEW YORK on an unusually cold october day

his father was voted as the SENATOR of new york and his mother was a LUXURY REAL ESTATE AGENT who sold a majority of the penthouses on the upper east side, it wasn’t easy living in new york and NOT knowing who the livingston’s were, whether you saw their names on billboards on heard it in passing on television you knew who they were

but the livingston LEGACY precedes connor’s successful parents and goes way back to his ancestors who made their fortune, specifically one of his GREAT grandfathers who was granted 160,000 acres along the Hudson and was an OFFICIAL FUR TRADER AND BUSINESSMAN who earned the family a whopping $35 BILLION DOLLARS and the wealth continues to grow RICH KEEP GETTING RICHER

in short connor is a total TRUST FUND BABY.

while a family like this is usually drowning with TURMOIL the livingston’s lived a fairly scandal free life, even when you did MASSIVE DIGGING, no signs of infedlity, their four kids got along great, and they were BIG on philanthropy and giving to charity

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐖

this is until you stepped behind CLOSED DOORS which is were the livingston’s liked their SKELETONS to remain, connor’s dad, was a SERIAL CHEATER and the only reason no one ever spoke up is the livingston family INFLUENCE no one dared to cross them

𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐖

despite growing up in such a TOXIC ENVIROMENT connor was actually a really good kid, his grades were nothing to write home about, and he was definitely a CLASS CLOWN but he did what he was supposed to, and stayed out of trouble for the MOST PART

he was the ELDEST of four children so he felt the need to be a good influence on what would prove to be a BUMPY ROAD for the family

connor’s high school experience was not what you would expect from someone of his CALIBER, well at least not ALL of it

for starters he had the tendency to be a bit ARROGANT due to who his parents were and because he knew the scope of their influence, and he used this to his advantage, he was definitively a “DO YOU KNOW WHO MY FATHER IS?” ass bitch, partly due to the fact people had always treated him differently and thus it went straight to his already empty head

and he PARTIED a lot, whether it was throwing parties in a penthouse his mother rented SPECIFICALLY for him, attending LAVISH parties, or jetting off to THE HAMPTON’S “for lunch”, school became a DISTANT PRIORITY

so distant in fact his parents ended up hiring a TUTOR to help him with his studies, and you wouldn’t believe me when i say connor FELL and he fell HARD

so hard in fact i’d say he CRASHED, two planets colliding into each other that was although a CATASTROPHE was ENCHANTING to see, but i’m getting ahead of myself

BEATRICE or BEA as connor and nearly everyone else called her, was connor’s opposite in almost EVERY WAY, she was a straight a student, and connor could hold a c average if he made the effort to CHEAT, she went to their private school on a SCHOLARSHIP, his parents had enough money to buy the ENTIRE SCHOOL, but they were IN LOVE

and i mean the kind of love you see in ROMCOMS the kind of SICKENINGLY SWEET love that others will tell you is IMPOSSIBLE, but they made it work, bea made connor more serious but his studies, and he in turn fell COMPLETELY and EFFORTLESSLY in love. see BEA was already WHOLE so think of this story less of two halves COMPLETING each other, and more so two wholes COMPLEMENTING each other

they continued to date throughout the rest of high school, and BEA became apart of his family, his mother referred to BEA as her DAUGHTER IN LAW, it was cemented in everyone’s minds that one day the two of them would be MARRIED

oddly enough connor NEVER met BEA’S parents no matter how much he BEGGED and PLEADED, all it took was BEA telling him her family life was something she was UNCOMFORTABLE with and he dropped the subject COMPLETELY

due to BEA’S influence, connor applied to university, COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY, to be exact and got ACCEPTED into the school of BUSINESS, of course BEA also applied an got ACCEPTED into the school of SOCIAL SCIENCES

connor didn’t HESITATE to PROPOSE to BEA and to no one’s surprise she immediately said YES and the plan was to get married IMMEDIATELY and so the date was set for JULY 17TH 2017, the theme to be WINTER WONDERLAND, it was BEA’S idea a winter wedding in summer, and seeing the way it made her absolutely BEAM it was worth it

the MONTH of the wedding was a tense one, GRADUATION, PREPARING FOR COLLEGE, and a WEDDING

however TRAGEDY would strike, BEA was LATE to the WEDDING and anyone who knew BEA knew that she wasn’t LATE to anything, that’s when connor got a call that would change his life FOREVER

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖

remember how i told you BEA never wanted connor to meet her parents? that’s because BEA was sick, CANCER to be exact, and didn’t want connor to find out. her parents tried to rationalize that she didn’t want to seem him HURT, and that she told them EVERYTHING about him, she DIED with connor right by her side, and what was supposed to be the HAPPIEST moment of his life became the SADDEST

𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖

that was THREE YEARS AGO and to this day he hasn’t recovered since

𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐇𝐎𝐋 𝐓𝐖

since then he has gotten two new vices DRINKING and HOOKING UP, it’s not unusual to see him at a bar drinking his FIFTH or TENTH shot of vodka and taking home his SECOND or TENTH girl of the night

𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐇𝐎𝐋 𝐓𝐖

he has been CLOSED OFF to the idea of love ever since, and hasn’t held a STABLE relationship since then, he simply can’t see himself COMMITTING to anyone as he did with BEA

in LIGHTER news, he graduated from COLUMBIA with his associate’s in BUSINESS and is now a ceo of his own EVENT PLANNNG company, which has been extremely successful in putting on TOURS, CHARITY BANQUETS, CONVENTIONS, CONCERTS, and the like, they specialize in everything except WEDDINGS

and his father 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍 has started his presidential campaign, that connor has somehow managed to rope himself into

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓

he fights in an underground fighting ring.

it started innocently enough, after BEA passed away he wanted an outlet something where he didn’t have to think about the GUILT and could let out his ANGER, really he wanted something to distract from the SADNESS

BOXING seemed like a good idea until he couldn’t harness the anger and nearly KILLED his opponent

that’s when things fell into place, his “ FRIEND ” who witnessed the fight first hand told him about this fighting ring that him and a couple of other people were involved in and connor decided WHY THE HELL NOT, he felt as he had NOTHING else to LOSE

and thus began the cycle of showing up to work in shade to hide BLACK EYES and surprisingly enough BRUISES are easy to hide behind three piece suits

and now current day it’s become THERAPY for him, since a lot of the guys are just like him, looking to ESCAPE from something in their PAST

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

𝐙𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐂

scorpio sun, scorpio rising, virgo moon

𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

chaotic good

𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈

estp-a

𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌

type 7w8

𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

choleric

𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

slytherin

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒

in order: physical touch, quality time, receiving gifts, acts of service, and words of affirmation

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒

adaptable, adventurous, affable, affectionate, ambitious, amusing, attentive, brave, bright, calm, caring, charismatic, charming, committed, courageous, creative, decisive, dependable, determined, diligent, determined, direct, driven, easy-going, efficient, engaging, enthusiastic, extroverted, flirtatious, forthright, frank, fun-loving, funny, gregarious, intelligent, knowledgeable, lively, logical, loyal, mischievous, neat, objective, observant, open-minded, organized, outgoing, passionate, persistent, playful, practical, pragmatic, protective, quick-witted, rational, realistic, reliable, responsible, romantic, self-confident, sociable, strong-willed, and trustworthy

𝐍𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒

abrasive, aggressive, aloof, analytical, argumentative, arrogant, assertive, avoidant, belligerent, blunt, bossy, calculating, callous, cautious, competitive, condescending, confrontational, critical, cynical, deceitful, defiant, destructive, detached, discreet, dishonest, dramatic, evasive, explosive, foolhardy, grumpy, guarded, harsh, headstrong, impatient, impulsive, insensitive, intimidating, irrational, judgmental, melancholic, narcissistic, negative, opinionated, outspoken, perfectionist, pretentious, private, quick-tempered, rebellious, reckless, rude, secretive, stubborn, temperamental, thoughtless, unemotional, vain, and violent

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎

i’d like to say he’s a weird amalgamation of characters i liked in media i’ve consumed, and although he relates more to some characters than others this is an incomplete list of my influences

p.s. you can click on the names of a character to see a gifset of them that reminds me of connor <3

𝑺𝑪𝑶𝑻𝑻 𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑮 ( 𝐀𝐍𝐓-𝐌𝐀𝐍 ) , 𝑬𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑹 𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑶𝑷 ( 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 ) , 𝑹𝑰𝑮𝑩𝒀 ( 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖 ) , 𝑫𝑨𝑴𝑶𝑵 𝑺𝑨𝑳𝑽𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑬 ( 𝐓𝐕𝐃 ) , 𝑹𝒀𝑨𝑵 𝑯𝑶𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑫 ( 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 ) , 𝑱𝑶𝑯𝑵𝑵𝒀 𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑽𝑶 ( 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐎 ) , 𝑫𝑼𝑵𝑪𝑨𝑵 ( 𝐓𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐀 𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 ) , 𝑨𝑳𝑬𝑿 𝑹𝑼𝑺𝑺𝑶 ( 𝐖𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 ) , 𝑪𝑯𝑼𝑪𝑲 𝑩𝑨𝑺𝑺 ( 𝐆𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐏 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ) , 𝑪𝑨𝑺𝑬𝒀 𝑮𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑵𝑬𝑹 ( 𝐀𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 ) , 𝑳𝑼𝑲𝑬 𝑫𝑼𝑵𝑷𝑯𝒀 ( 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 ) , 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑫𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑲 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑮𝑨𝑵 ( 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒 )

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑰𝑪

𝑪𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑬𝑿𝑬𝑺 𝑶𝑵 𝑮𝑶𝑶𝑫 𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑴𝑺. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑬𝑿𝑬𝑺 𝑶𝑵 𝑩𝑨𝑫 𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑴𝑺. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑭𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑺 𝑻𝑶 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑭𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑺 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑩𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑭𝑰𝑻𝑺. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄.

𝑺𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑵𝒀 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑺𝑳𝑶𝑾 𝑩𝑼𝑹𝑵. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑷𝑹 𝑹𝑬𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑷. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑻𝑶𝑿𝑰𝑪 𝑹𝑬𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑷. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑼𝑵𝑹𝑬𝑸𝑼𝑰𝑻𝑬𝑫 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑷𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑵𝑰𝑪

𝑺𝑸𝑼𝑨𝑫. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑹𝑶𝑶𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑺. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑮𝑶𝑶𝑫 𝑰𝑵𝑭𝑳𝑼𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑩𝑨𝑫 𝑰𝑵𝑭𝑳𝑼𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑩𝑬𝑺𝑻 𝑭𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑵𝑫. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑪𝑯𝑰𝑳𝑫𝑯𝑶𝑶𝑫 𝑭𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑵𝑫. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑵𝑬𝑮𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑽𝑬

𝑭𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑺 𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑫 𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑴𝑰𝑬𝑺. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑴𝑰𝑬𝑺. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑭𝑹𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑴𝑰𝑬𝑺. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

if any of these interest you feel free to message me! i have ideas for all of them that i’m always ready to share! also feel free to mix and match any of the plots above a good influence who has an unrequited crush but is also his roommate? sounds like content to me, a friend with benefits turned best friend turned exes on bad terms we love to see it! and if none of these seem interesting to you fill free to check out connor’s wanted connections page!

#wealthyhq:intro #cheating tw #death tw #cancer tw #alcohol tw #i didn't proofread this #so if there's any typos #rip

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dettiot · 4 years

Text

Of All the Spice Joints in the Galaxy . . .

A Casablanca AU, featuring Obi-Wan Kenobi and Satine Kryze. Enjoy!

XXX

With the coming of the Galactic Civil War, many eyes turn hopefully or desperately towards the freedom of Mandalore. Corellia was the great embarkation point, but not everyone could reach Corellia directly. So by corvette or freighter, peoples all around the galaxy make their way to Onderon. There, with money or influence or luck, the fortunate ones can obtain exit visas for Corellia and then to Mandalore.

But others must wait . . . and wait . . . and wait.

XXX

Captain Quinlan Vos waited for the sleek transport to touch down and for the landing ramp to be lowered. Then he put on a smile as Major Sheev Palpatine of the Empire stepped out onto the landing platform.

"Major Palpatine, welcome to Onderon," Vos said, not meaning a word of it.

"Thank you," the major said, all smiles and smoothness. "I am ready to learn more about these exit visas that were stolen."

"Oh, we'll find out tonight at Club Obi-Wan. Everyone goes to Obi-Wan's," Vos said, leading the major to a speeder.

Palpatine nodded, looking thoughtful. "And what is this news about Garm Bel Iblis escaping the Empire and trying to make his way to Corellia?"

"We've been tracking his moves, but his way to Corellia is cut off. He will be able to go no further than Onderon," Vos said.

"Well done, Captain," Palpatine said approvingly. "I doubted the ability of any Jedi to be loyal to the Empire. But clearly, you have turned your back on that ancient religion."

Vos nodded and stayed quiet. Because he didn't want to say anything--not when he felt guilty over his actions. Was surviving worth it if he was more wracked with guilt than he had ever expected?

XXX

Club Obi-Wan was the most bustling nightclub on Onderon. It was due to three elements: the only-slightly-rigged gambling tables, the excellent music provided by the piano player Anakin Skywalker, and the complete outlawing of all political discussions. People of all affiliations were welcome at Obi-Wan's, and thus everyone came to Obi-Wan's.

The man himself was sitting at his normal table, his eyes focused on a chess board yet still aware of everything happening in his club. With coppery hair and a matching beard, dressed in a fine set of clothes, he fit in among his patrons yet stayed distant from all of them. He never drank with his customers or even joined them at their table. He was strictly neutral and refused to stick his neck out for anyone. Which meant in the upside-down world of Onderon, everyone trusted Obi-Wan.

Quinlan Vos was one of Obi-Wan's oldest friends, so he knew what to expect when he brought Major Palpatine in that night. But he was still surprised by what he observed when Garm Bel Iblis walked in.

First, the former Senator and leader of Imperial opposition was accompanied by a lady. Tall, blonde, with aristocratic features, she was a stunner.

Second, Obi-Wan noticed the woman immediately and rose to his feet, walking over to the couple. And he proceded to escort them to a table and sit down with them.

XXX

The moment Satine Kryze walked into his bar, Obi-Wan Kenobi wondered if karma was finally coming for him. Because how else to explain the appearance of the only woman he had ever loved, walking into his nightclub just like this?

She was even more beautiful than she had been, during that year they had spent together on Mandalore. Back then, she was thinner, angular, with an equally sharp tongue. Her beauty had matured and she had grown into her interesting, dramatic features.

He didn’t know why she was with Garm Bel Iblis, a man he couldn’t help admiring. But he didn’t really care why Bel Iblis was here or why that mattered to Vos. All he cared about was Satine.

Even to the point of breaking one of his rules and sitting down with them.

“It’s been a long time, Obi-Wan,” Satine said, gazing at him. “We haven’t seen each other since--”

“Since we were at Te Mesh’la Vaar’tu,” Obi-Wan said. “The day the Empire was declared.”

Satine nodded, the sadness making her blue eyes appear darker.

Obi-Wan wanted to kick himself for reminding her of what she had lost, but . . . but it was just so good to be near to her. Even with the galaxy’s hero sitting between them.

XXX

Rising to his feet, Vos ambled over to the table and clapped a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. "My, my, what is this? A precedent has been broken tonight!"

Obi-Wan shrugged off his hand while Bel Iblis rose to his feet and held his hand out. "Good evening, sir. Garm Bel Iblis."

"I'm well aware of you by reputation, Senator Bel Iblis," Vos said. "I am Captain Quinlan Vos, formerly of the Jedi Order and the administrator of Onderon."

"I see," Bel Iblis said, his eyes only slightly narrowing in reaction.

Vos didn't think anything of it, instead turning to smile at his female companion. "Good evening, mademoiselle."

"May I present Satine Kryze," Bel Iblis said.

"Enchanted," Vos said, bending over the hand that Miss Kryze presented to him.

"Good evening," she said in a rich yet light voice.

His old friend was hanging on every action of Miss Kryze, while hiding it from anyone who didn’t know him very well. Which made him wonder just what was going on here.

XXX

When Anakin Skywalker got the message that Satine Kryze wanted to talk to him, he braced himself. He had been there, playing the piano at Obi-Wan’s last club, when he had reconnected with Satine. That made him a first-hand witness to how Obi-Wan had fallen apart when Satine had left him with no word.

It had been luck that allowed Anakin to get Obi-Wan to Onderon, to a degree of safety. Obi-Wan hadn’t cared about his safety, but Anakin did.

So while he liked Satine, he didn’t really trust her. But he was also a romantic, and since Satine was here . . . might as well do what he could to help out. Especially since Obi-Wan had taken Satine’s escort up to his office, leaving the lady in question all alone.

“Hi, Satine,” he said, moving his piano into position and setting down the bench.

“Hello, Anakin,” she said, giving him a soft smile.

“It’s good to see you,” he said, letting his fingers play something soft and sweet and a little sad.

She nodded, brushing back a lock of blonde hair. “Thank you.”

Anakin kept playing, letting the music swirl between them, hoping it would prompt Satine to ask him the question he knew she wanted to ask.

“How is he?”

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked, glancing at her. “He’s . . . well, you know him. He’s running this place. Keeping busy.”

Another silence, filled only with his music, stretched out between them. And then, to Anakin’s surprise, Satine said, “Play it, Anakin.”

“You sure about that?” Anakin asked, raising an eyebrow. He would get in trouble with Obi-Wan for sure, since there was one song he was forbidden to play.

But Satine just nodded, and . . . well, it was her funeral.

So Anakin tilted his head back and began to sing along with the music.

“You must remember this/a kiss is still a kiss/on that you can rely. The fundamental things apply . . . as time goes by.”

XXX

Obi-Wan leaned back in his chair, looking at Garm Bel Iblis. The man was a legend: a crusading senator from Corellia, speaking out against the Republic’s decline, leading the opposition to the Empire. Thought dead multiple times, yet always able to escape and turn up.

If the man didn’t have a lick of Force sensitivity, Obi-Wan would think he had Jedi training.

“I understand you recently came into possession of two exit visas,” Bel Iblis said. “I am interested in them. For myself and Satine.”

“Is that so?” Obi-Wan asked, hearing the slight slur in his voice and cursing it. He had never had a problem with holding his liquor. Perhaps he was just drunk on Satine.

“Yes. I’m willing to pay any price,” Bel Iblis said.

Obi-Wan huffed. “So you can get away? Keep fighting the good fight?”

“To get Satine home,” Bel Iblis said. “She has a duty to her people. They need her.”

“While the galaxy needs you,” Obi-Wan pointed out.

Bel Iblis sighed softly. “I suppose that’s true. But I hope it isn’t. If the death of one man is all it would take to doom the opposition, then perhaps the fight against the Empire is a vain one. Perhaps the Empire is truly what the Empire wants then.”

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan said, swirling the Corellian whisky in his glass. “Well, I’m sorry I can’t help you, Senator Bel Iblis. But I don’t have any exit visas.”

Bel Iblis frowned. “I see.”

“Sorry I couldn’t help you,” Obi-Wan said, rising to his feet and making it clear the conversation was over.

“Of course. Thank you for your time,” Bel Iblis said, also standing and allowing Obi-Wan to escort him out.

It couldn’t happen fast enough, because Obi-Wan just wanted to be alone to drink himself under the table. But since he never got what he wanted, Vos was waiting outside the door, wearing a stupid smirk on his face.

“Obi-Wan, my friend!” Vos said, nodding to Bel Iblis and then sauntering into the office.

“Vos . . .”

“Oh, come now, Obi-Wan,” Vos said, picking up the bottle of whisky and pouring himself a glass. “You keep the best booze up here.” He settled down into a chair and sipped his drink, looking at Obi-Wan over the rim of the glass.

Closing the door with a sigh, Obi-Wan sat back down in his chair. The best way to deal with Vos was to let him say his piece, and then he’d get out.

“You know, when you arrived on Onderon, I had a full dossier on you,” Vos said, leaning back in his chair. “Twenty years ago, you fought on the side of the New Mandalorians. Fifteen years ago, you served during the Invasion of Naboo for the Nabooians. Eight years ago, you fought against the Separartists before they formed the Empire.”

“I got paid well for each job,” Obi-Wan pointed out.

Vos raised an eyebrow. “The winning side would have paid much better.” He took another sip. “You’re an idealist, Obi-Wan. You might pretend to be pragmatic and realistic, but I can recognize a former Jedi.”

“Is that so?” Obi-Wan said. “And what would you know about the Jedi Order? With how you turned your back on them and saved your skin?”

The blow hit home, Obi-Wan saw. And suddenly, he was done with all of this shavit.

“Get out, Vos,” he said, taking a healthy swallow of his drink.

“Very well, Obi-Wan,” Vos said, standing up and swaying slightly as he made his way out. “But be aware: Major Palpatine of the Empire is much less forgiving than I am.”

XXX

Satine took a breath as she climbed the steps to Obi-Wan’s office. It was the middle of the night and the club was dark and quiet. It was actually a bit creepy, but--but none of that matter. Not when more important matters than her heart were on the line.

Squaring her shoulders, she knocked on the door to the office. After waiting a few moments, she pressed her ear to the door and heard nothing.

The Obi-Wan she had seen tonight wasn’t the same man she had known twenty years ago, or five years ago. The man she had fallen in love with so long ago. He had probably drunk himself to sleep. Which meant she could search the club, looking for those exit visas . . .

Garm said Obi-Wan had denied having them, but Satine knew the man. He had them and he just didn’t want to give them to Garm. To her.

But stealing them from Obi-Wan would be like trying to turn two wrongs into a right. That was beneath her.

And Obi-Wan deserved to know the truth.

So without any further delay, Satine stepped into Obi-Wan’s office, spying the man slumped in a chair.

When she closed the door, she heard a sound. Turning around, she gasped when she saw Obi-Wan standing in front of her.

“My dear duchess,” he said, sounding utterly drunk and mad as hell. “To what do I owe the honor of such a late-night visit?”

Satine tilted her chin up, drawing upon all her aristocratic heritage. “I came for those exit visas. And . . . and to explain what happened five years ago.”

“I’m afraid, my dear, that neither of those things matter,” Obi-Wan said. “Since I don’t have the exit visas, and I don’t give a damn what happened five years ago.”

“I would disagree,” Satine said, sticking her nose in the air. “On both counts.”

He stared at her, pickled in liquor, his eyes full of anger, but looking closer, Satine could see more. The regret, the heartbreak.

“So maybe you’re right,” he said, holding on to the doorframe.

With a nod, Satine took a step back from him. Solely because of the smell wafting off him--not because being near to him turned her body into a flame.

She wanted to turn away and wrap her arms around herself as she spoke, but she would not show weakness. And she wanted to look at Obi-Wan as she told him the truth.

“Five years ago, when we reconnected . . . it was like something out of a dream,” Satine began. “I’ve loved you since we first met, and meeting you again, I felt the hand of fate at work.”

Obi-Wan snorted softly. “So what changed? How did the hand of fate move you away from me?”

Satine gazed at him. “Because I was married to Garm Bel Iblis.”

He blinked at her, then shook his head. “What?”

“I married him seven years ago. To secure an alliance for Mandalore with a powerful Core world, to show strength as the New Mandalorians were arguing against having a female ruler,” Satine said. “It was a political marriage, but Garm . . . he’s been good to me. He’s taken care of me. He’s supported me every step of the way. Just like I’ve supported him.”

Her knees felt weak and she sank down on a chair. “He had been arrested before we met again. I thought he was dead. I thought . . . I thought I could be with you. But then, the day we tried to leave, I found out he had escaped. And--and I had to go to him. And I couldn’t break your heart, by telling you the truth. So I just ran and hoped you would get over me.”

Now she bowed her head, the weight of her cowardice hitting her once again. How could she call herself a Mandalorian when she had acted so weak?

Swallowing, she looked back up at Obi-Wan. “Please. Give Garm the exit visa, so he can leave. And I will stay with you. I will do whatever you ask, if you only give him the visa. He--he can’t stay on Onderon much longer, not with how Major Palpatine is watching his every move.”

Obi-Wan stared at her. The silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable, and Satine stood up and started walking towards the door.

“You would sacrifice your people for him?”

Her back stiffened at Obi-Wan’s anger . . . and at his disbelief. “I would sacrifice them for the good of the galaxy, yes. But I was also willing to sacrifice them for you. Even though you’re not the man you used to be, Obi-Wan.”

And with that, she walked out of the office without a backwards glance.

XXX

This was crazy. Lying to Satine, lying to Bel Iblis, lying to Vos . . . there was no way he was going to be able to pull this off, Obi-Wan knew.

And when Major Palpatine stood before him, putting in a holo call to prevent the use of the stolen exit visas, Obi-Wan knew what he had to do.

Without any hesitation, he drew a blaster and shot Major Palpatine at point-blank range.

It was like the galaxy let out a deep breath as the major dropped to the ground. Obi-Wan pocketed the blaster as Satine and Bel Iblis clutched each other and Vos gaped at him.

Then Vos chuckled. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Obes.”

A guard ran up. “Captain Vos, I heard a blaster--” His eyes fell on the major’s body, then looked at Vos.

“Major Palpatine has been shot,” Vos said. He paused, then continued, “Round up the usual suspects.”

The sound of the transport starting its engines made Obi-Wan snap out of his daze. He turned to Satine and Bel Iblis and said, “It’s time for you to go.”

Satine blinked. “Go? Obi-Wan, what--”

Obi-Wan shoved the two exit visas into her hand. “You’re going with him. For the sake of your people. It’s your duty, Satine.”

As she looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. Obi-Wan swallowed. “The problems of two people don’t matter much in this galaxy. And if you stayed, you’d regret it someday.”

“Obi-Wan, please,” she said, lifting her chin. “We had a deal.”

“You only thought we did,” Obi-Wan said. “Now go. You have your duty and I have mine.”

Bel Iblis, showing more of that noble, gentlemanly attitude, stepped towards the transport, giving them a moment. Obi-Wan searched Satine’s face and lowered his voice, not sure if he wanted her to hear what he had to say, but wanting to say it regardless.

“I would have left the Jedi Order for you.”

A tear streaked down her face. She reached out and touched his cheek. “I have loved you always. I always will.”

The lump in his throat kept him from saying anything. He just leaned into her hand until she took it away and hurried towards the transport.

His eyes stayed locked on her form as she climbed aboard the transport. He could feel Vos come to stand beside him, and the captain said, “You know, Obi-Wan . . .”

“Wait until the transport leaves, Quinlan,” Obi-Wan said.

Showing that he wasn’t completely bitter and jaded, Vos did just that. Obi-Wan watched as the transport rose into the air, moving through the atmosphere, taking away the love of his life.

“Well,” Vos said. “It would seem that we’ve both declared war on the Empire.”

Obi-Wan looked at him. “You still have plausible denialability, Vos.”

Vos waved a hand in the air, brushing aside Obi-Wan’s objection. “There’s an opposition outpost at Ord Mantell. And I just happen to have the perfect ship. If you can pay our expenses.”

Letting out a soft huff of laughter, Obi-Wan said, “Our expenses? Quinlan, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

End.

#obitine #quinlan vos #sheev palpatine #garm bel iblis #anakin skywalker #star wars #GIVE ME ALL THE AUS

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pascalls · 4 years

Text

It’s a Gunderful Life

With nowhere to go on Christmas Eve, Charlie’s depressive episode is interrupted by none other than Gil Gunderson.

---------------------------------

Her text had ruined everything.

For once, Charlie had been prepared to spend a holiday with his son. He’d gone the extra mile - figured out a small motel where they advertised fun little Christmas trees in the rooms, had enough money to order a pizza, and even had a small present for the boy that was haphazardly wrapped and ready to be given.

But before he could even make the phone call to ask whether or not Connor was ready to be picked up, Connor’s mother had texted him instead.

[ Our son is spending Christmas with his grandparents. You can see him for New Years. ]

Charlie didn’t have the wherewithal to respond. The reservation for the motel was canceled, the money for the pizza was spent on a gross Stroopwafel Liqueur, and the present was dropped in the mail box for Connor to receive later. On top of his killed buzz, the chilly air was swirling about in such a way that it was generating a few wayward snowflakes. Even through the thick sweater he was wearing, the frost bit at him; as if the weather itself was really hammering the point home.

As Charlie walked down the street, the bitterness radiating from him was palpable. In fact, it was likely the only thing that was keeping him warm as his ears consistently flicked away the falling snow before it could settle on his scales for too long. The holiday meant that the Lovejoys had company, Sam was away on an urgent delivery run upstate, and sleeping on the cold tile floor underneath one of the tables at Moe’s was too depressing of an option. The bar was likely filled with other loners, just as put out as Charlie was. And he didn’t need that kind of energy pulling him even deeper into his lonely depression.

A sneeze made his ribs ache and he snuffled in agitation as he scooted himself into the dim glow of the nearest street light. He’d long since abandoned his disguise in favor of roaming the street like some kind of raccoon, looking for… Something. Anything. He didn’t quite know what. He’d finished off his booze - which had done very little to get him drunk - and with no cash in his pocket, that meant no food, no more drinks, and no… place to stay.

On a good day, Charlie battled loneliness and depression. This was certainly not a good day. It was smothering him. And after a brief moment of realizing that the light was at least providing the tiniest bit of warmth, Charlie sat right there on the curb, tail curled around him as he exhaled tiredly into the frosty air. What a shit Christmas.

He nearly leapt to his feet when a sudden harsh metal scraping interrupted his quiet revelry. His scales bristled like a spooked cat, but confusion overcame his desire to bolt as he spotted a familiar face that followed.

“...Hello Gil,” Charlie said, his tone exceptionally dry. God couldn’t have dropped literally anyone else into his lap on Christmas fucking Eve?

“Uh-hEY, it’s Mr. Walker and d-” Gil began to respond, his hands gripping the metal rim of the dented garbage can he seemed to be dragging down the street. “-aAH! What HAPPENED to ya?” He exclaimed when he turned to glance properly at Charlie who could only respond with a dull look in return.

A more intelligent part of the hybrid was telling himself that being caught out of his disguise might as well have been a straight shot right back to Burns. The more realistic - and depressed - part of himself was saying…

Nobody would believe Gil Gunderson anyway.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s a whole thing, it’s fine,” Charlie reassured him, scaly hands up in a placating gesture. “Tell me why you’re waking up the sewer rats by dragging that thing across the pavement.” He was quick to change the subject, and despite Gil’s momentary apprehension, the man seemed to divert just as easily.

“OH, well, yanno, it’s pretty cold out and I figured if I got this in between some of those apartment buildin’s over there, I could set some garbage on fire and get the ol’ hands nice and toasty! But uh… Well, I used the last of my matches to try and pop some popcorn kernels I found in my pocket earlier and ah… well, yeah that’s kinda just how it goes some days, I guess.”

“Riveting.” Charlie had little to offer the ramblings of the ever-depressing Gil, but he had to admit… a fire sounded nice right about then. He didn’t know how sure he was that he wouldn’t freeze to death if left to his own devices overnight. A fire would at least make sure he’d live to see another day. “...I might be able to help with that, actually.”

“Really?” Gil asked, his tone hopeful as Charlie came around to the other side of the can and lifted from the bottom. He didn’t want to summon up any more attention from any other passersby with the horrible screech of metal against concrete.

“Tell me where you want it and we can see if we can get it lit somehow.”

“Oh BOY, you’ve got a real nice heart there, Mr. Walker! I tell ya what, let’s go put it right between the Sears and the Radioshack!”

Charlie squinted from behind the can. “Gunderson, neither of those fucking places have existed for at least two years. Pretty sure it’s a Target and a Subway now.”

“Aw, you’re right.”

Sighing, Charlie hoisted the can up and in the direction of the two buildings, crossing a parking lot and avoiding bonking into a few cars along the way before setting it down in the darker shadows of the alley between them. It was sufficiently out of the way of any prying eyes and didn’t reek of piss and old sandwich meat, at the very least.

“Alright… uh… next step is… shit to burn,” Charlie mused, adjusting his glasses and glancing around.

“I’ve got some receipts in my pockets…” Gil proposed, reaching into his shoddy jacket and pulling out a huge clump of wadded up paper. He began to pull them apart one by one, dropping them into the can, but not before glancing at each one in turn and announcing loudly where they were from. “This one was from that slice of pizza I got the other day! Oh, but then I dropped it into the sewer grate… And THIS one is from those shoes I bought- ah, but then that dog ran off with ‘em…”

Rolling his eyes, Charlie ignored Gil’s babbles as he drifted over to a nearby dumpster, clawing his way up the side of it and peering in.

“Ah-hah,” he proclaimed, hopping in and beginning to toss out bits of plywood and newspapers. A few food wrappers made their way out of the dumpster and to the ground. A few minutes of digging yielded a large enough pile of garbage for Charlie to clamber back out, landing deftly on his feet. Glancing over at Gil, he breathed out a sigh when he realized the other man was still going through his receipts.

“GIL.”

“And this one was - Huh? What?”

“This stuff will burn a lot faster than a pocketful of receipts. C’mon now. Use your brain. Come get this shit and throw it in.”

Gil blinked before dumping the rest of the receipts into the can and quickly made his way over to start hoisting up the trash that Charlie had amassed, carrying it over and dumping it in as their makeshift kindling.

“Y’know, I could use this for-” Gil began, only to be interrupted by Charlie who smacked some of the plywood out of his hands and into their fire.

“No. Put all of it in.”

Gil didn’t argue, a little too intimidated by Charlie’s command to do so, and he obediently finished his task. The can was eventually full - full enough to keep a fire fed for a few hours, at least. By then, hopefully, the sun would be back up and it wouldn’t be such a chore to stay warm.

“Alright. Now… to burn. Hm. You got a phone on you?”

Reaching into his other pocket, Gil produced an old flip phone, clearly not up to modern standards. But Charlie didn’t really mind, reaching out to snag it from him and give it a once over.

“It ain’t the most high tech thing, but it lets me keep in touch with the kids when they-”

Before even bothering to let him finish, Charlie unceremoniously wrenched the battery out of the device, practically snapping the thing in half to do so. “I’ll get you a new one,” he lied, not looking at Gil as he began to fiddle with the battery casing with his claws.

“Wh- Oh. Well if it helps…” Gil replied, downtrodden, but not entirely beaten up about it. He leaned over to watch Charlie work, backing up only when the battery began to smoke and spark.

“Head’s up!” The hybrid exclaimed, tossing the battery in the can as it began to simmer and leak fluid. What he didn’t anticipate was the fluid, having left a streak along the ground as it hurtled into the can, ignited, sending flames rocketing towards their impromptu fire pit. A sudden wave of panic at the realization - BATTERIES EXPLODE - sent Charlie leaping at Gil to knock him down and away from the can as the sound of the battery bursting into shrapnel rattled their little alley. Smoke and flames burst from the pile of garbage, singeing the can and some of the brick wall next to it before it settled, leaving them laying in the aftermath of floaty, acrid smoke.

Charlie glanced back at the can which was, at least, alight now. And the preceding explosion had ensured that the entire area was… warm and smoky.

“WOW, that’s ONE WAY to light a fire!” Gil exclaimed from the ground, not bothering to get up just yet. Particularly due to Charlie still being squarely on top of him. The hybrid noticed after a few seconds, glancing down at Gil before scrambling away in embarrassment and dusting himself off as he got to his feet.

“Yeah… well… I’m… experienced.” Charlie bragged, despite the slight humiliation at possibly being caught in such a position with Gil of all people. But he couldn’t say that he hated having his ego pat. Even just a little. He busied himself with cleaning off his glasses as Gil pushed himself up to his feet in turn, making his way over to the can and placing his hands over the flames which had settled and now burned steadily.

“I gotta say, I was a little worried we wouldn’t have somethin’ to keep us warm tonight, but ya really came through!” Gil rubbed his hands together eagerly, offering Charlie a little smile, to which the hybrid had no response besides an awkward clearing of his throat as he drifted over to join the other man. His scales appreciated the warmth as he placed them over the fire, glancing over at Gil as the flames crackled quietly.

“...Why’re you out here by yourself anyway?” Charlie eventually asked, curiosity defeating his desire to not be rambled at again.

Gil shrugged sadly, but he maintained his smile. “Yanno how landlords are durin’ the holidays, they want their rent when they want it and when ya don’t got it, well, ya end up out on the street and all your stuff stays behind and they tell ya they wanna pawn it off…” He trailed off.

Frowning, the hybrid didn’t respond right away. He wasn’t entirely sure what was worse. Not having a place to go to begin with or being booted out of your place. Hm. He decided that he wasn’t interested in playing the pain olympics with a man who probably didn’t need it any more than he himself did.

“That’s rough, buddy,” he said after a moment.

“Did you get thrown out too?” Gil asked. “Ya seem like a guy who’s a lot more put together than I am, anyway!”

“Eh…” Charlie replied, noncommittally. He didn’t want to get into it. Especially not with Gil. “Just wasn’t interested in doing the whole… holiday thing.” He lied again, though a slight pang of guilt settled into the back of his mind, forcing him to pull his hands back to himself and drift away from the can to lean against a nearby wall. Sliding down, he eventually settled on the ground. Close enough to the fire to keep him warm, but not so close that he was forced to stare Gil Gunderson in the face and explain the depths of his depression.

The other man watched as Charlie drew away and, much to the hybrid’s dismay, joined him to sit against the wall. Gil seemed pleased just to have some kind of company. Charlie would have preferred it to be....

Maybe literally anyone else.

“It can get pretty tough around Christmas time when ya ain’t got anyone to spend the holiday with. I know how that can be,” Gil began. Charlie didn’t look up at him. He didn’t need to be told that. “But it ain’t all bad,” the man continued, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small paper bag.

What the hell else did this man have in his pockets? Charlie wondered. But he didn’t ask. Just squinted as Gil reached into the bag and produced two rectangular snack bars.

“It’s not much, but I managed to snag these cereal bars from my pantry before security threw me out. Ya want one?” Gil offered one of the bars to Charlie who stared, nonplussed at the offer. Something about it was-

-stabbing him directly in the chest somehow, and he wasn’t sure why.

“...Sure,” he replied eventually, reaching out to take one of the bars and turn it around in his hands. Lucky Charms. Cute. He peeled the wrapper off the bar and began to silently munch, still pointedly not looking at Gil. Embarrassed to be accepting the help. Thrown by not being able to stew in his depression with someone watching. Guilted by the realization that he’d shattered the man’s phone and now would certainly need to get him a new one.

The silence between them was interrupted by the faint beeping of Gil’s watch. Charlie’s ears twitched as he glanced over, continuing to savor his sad little snack meal.

“Guess that makes it Christmas now, huh? It’s midnight,” Gil said with a glance at the watch that continued to beep for a few more moments before going silent again.

“...Guess it does.” Charlie glanced up as the snowflakes continued to drift down around them. Not quite making it all the way to the ground before they melted into droplets of water or evaporating in the heat of their bonfire. He considered, for a moment, reaching for his phone to text Connor. Or Tim. Or Sam. Or - anyone. Maybe shoot his shot and see if anyone would respond to a sad lizard’s good tidings.

But he did none of those things.

Instead, he reached into his pocket to produce the only real thing he had on his person. His empty wallet. It had no money, no cards in it. Not even any sorts of identification. It was an older leather wallet that had seen better days. But it wasn’t the worst looking thing.

“Merry Christmas, Gil,” Charlie said as he offered up the wallet to the other man. “It’s not much. But you might be able to use it eventually.”

“Wha? Really? Ya mean it?” Gil responded, reaching out to take the wallet with enthusiasm. “You BET I’ll be able to use it! I’ll be able to hold all of my credit cards and maybe I can get them all paid off finally!”

The hybrid snorted in amusement. Stupid.

In a sudden and unexpected display of gratitude, Gil leaned over and wrapped arms around Charlie’s shoulders in a tight embrace. Charlie bristled, not anticipating the blatant affection, almost pulling away as a result. But Gil didn’t seem too eager to let go.

“You’ve made this the best Christmas I’ve had in a LONG time!” The man exclaimed, much to Charlie’s embarrassment. But… he had to admit…

It felt nice to be appreciated.

So he didn’t fuss, despite his desire to do so. Instead, he reached up and gave Gil a little pat on the head.

“You’re uh… you’re welcome.”

Charlie let Gil cling for a little longer, occupying himself by staring at the fire they’d constructed together. At least they were warm. They’d eaten something. And they weren’t alone. The hybrid wasn’t about to categorize it as any type of ‘good’, as far as holidays went, but…

Maybe it wasn’t the worst.

#tj writes #oc #simpsona #gil gunderson #BECAUSE CHARLIE x GIL IS A VALID SHIP NOW I GUESS

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kingedwardvi · 3 years

Text

Calendar of State Papers Foreign: Edward VI 1547-1553

1551.

Jan. 6. [Antwerp?] Gaeret Harman, goldsmith, to Sir William Cecil. After a good passage he arrived at Antwerp on New-year's day, at 10 p.m. whence he proceeded to Master Channerly [Chamberlain], at Brussels, and delivered the message.

Received for answer that they should have no need thereof, and it was hard to get it, because the Lady Regent is not at Brussels, and that if application were made to the Council for a passport, it might be thought suspicious; therefore bids him make the best shift he can to get a good ship or two as needs require and to get him to Zealand with Master Gondelfings [Kundelfinger] and his company, and with the first wind to sea.

Requests Cecil to procure for him a passport, since without it he may be stayed. Having a bit of the ore in his bag, he gave it to Gondelfings and the Burgomaster, the latter of whom immediately assayed it, and found it so good that there is no doubt if he have ore enough the King shall receive such honest profit as will cause the Council to regret that it has been so long delayed. Has had no tidings of Dansell's coming, or of the money, which grieves him. [Two pages.]

--- Jan. 7. Augsburg. Sir Richard Morysine to Cecil. Were well worthy blame, and unworthy either to receive long or short letters from Cecil, if he did not bid his shortest welcome and give most earnest thanks for them. Master Hales plieth him with precepts, and breeds a desire in him, as much as he can, to please them both.

Ciphering is to him such a pain, as he had rather do any drudgery than fall to it, and yet will he lie no more so open as he has done. Winchester's fault he can no way better amend, than in doing as he did, to be most against him. Well likes Mr. Wotton's wariness, and where he can, does mean to follow it. He does but tell reports for the most part, which is, in his fancy, a good part of his service; as he can seldom come where he may know whether they be true or otherwise.

If he does sometime say his conjecture, so it be thereafter hid under a cipher, his lack of judgment, in guessing otherwise than it is, may more justly be pitied than he shent for saying as he thinks. He had rather seem unwise than unwilling to further as much as he can; and what harm do councillors take, when he has said, which may think as they see cause and do what they best like?

That he is so open, the fault is Fortune's, and many times not his. He sometimes hears news of importance when he has scarce time to write them; if he shall send them, they must go as they may; if he stays them for cipher, they may come thither by other means, and he be shent for leaving his duty undone.

He supposes his letters come into England unseen; if they do not the Emperor is content men shall write the success of rebels as well as his good fortunes. He may be bold to favour that he ought, when W. made at his discourses to set up that he ought to have beaten down. Will follow him but when he is forced; learn to pardon faults, and he will make the fewer.

Cecil will perceive what charges will grow newly to him; if the Emperor goes into Hungary, he must either send home his wife or keep at Argentine [Strasburg]; do which he will, he is half undone. Marvels that his diet money cometh not; if that will not serve with more, is it reason he lacks it?

Prays Cecil will cry upon Mr. Hales to sell his western land; he left commission with him, and writes every post to him for it. He would be able someways to entice some to bring him advertisements. His geldings have hitherto served, he must now seek other shifts.

May no licence be granted to him but licence to want, and few to pity him? "Good Mr. Cecil, let me perceive that you have made my scuse of not writing, and that he hath as well a mind to help me out of this beggary as though I wrote daily. I wish you health, and my lady your wife sick of child."

P.S.—"You must in any wise help Christopher Mount to part of his money; if not to all. I know he wanteth; and, as little plenty as I have, I was driven to pity his needs more than mine own lacks. You shall at once do pleasure to twain." [Three pages.]

--- Jan. 8. [Antwerp?] Gaeret Harman, goldsmith, to Sir William Cecil. Earnestly desires that this money may be paid, as these men heartily desire to serve the King. After the Burgomaster had twice or thrice repeated the assay of the ore, he was as merry as if the King had given him 100 pounds, and said that if he might have ore enough, the whole realm should have cause to thank God for it.

Out of the 100 ounces would be got more than eight ounces of fine silver, and half a hundred of good lead. If Cecil will show this letter to the Council, they will see that he has always spoken the truth in regard to this matter, and it were pity that men of no experience should meddle in it, as they would lose the one half that God had given to them. [One page.]

--- Jan. 18. Greenwich. The Council to Sir John Masone. Acknowledge his letter of the 30th December, and commend his diligence. Desire to be informed what he has done in regard to the lewd French book against the King, and that he may let the French King know that, however anxious they are to be on friendly terms with the Scots, the latter will always provoke a breach of the peace.

Dr. Smith has farthered his own suit by printing at Paris a slanderous book against the Bishop of Canterbury. He has once deceived an Ambassador in Flanders, and by likelihood would deceive another in France; but indeed they know him too well to be deceived by him.

Mr. Chamberlain having lately been denied the service of his religion in Flanders, they have caused the Emperor's Ambassador to procure him liberty on pain of his own restraint here. Wish to know how he is treated in this respect in France. Mr. Pickering's preparations are well advanced, and the time of his departure will shortly be made known. Orders have been issued for the payment of Masone's diets. [Three pages. Copy in Sir J. Masone's LetterBook.] Eod. die.Draft of the preceding. [Four pages.]

--- Jan. 19. Blois. Henry II., King of France, to King Edward VI. In favour of Nicholas Guymonneau, a merchant of Orleans, whose vessel had been captured by the English in 1547, during the time of peace. [Broadside. French. Countersigned by De l'Aubespine.]

--- Jan. 20. Blois. Sir John Masone to the Council. Introducing the merchant of Orleans mentioned in the preceding letter, and urging his suit, the same being much made of by the French King and Court. [One page and a half.] Eod. die.Copy of the preceding in Sir J. Masone's Letter-Book. [One page and a half.]

--- Jan. 20. Augsburg. Sir Richard Morysine to Cecil. Is his land so increased since his coming out, or his substance so unknown, that men do think he may serve the King without his diets? He would he could, not that he cares, "if your intrade lasted no longer mine than I have to serve here."

If all his doings be still misliked, he is able to do no better, is sorry for it, and wishes some wise men might shortly call a fool home. He has written so much, and to so many, that he must have a new matter ere he can write more, and come home to make more friends ere he can write to any more.

Shall he continue at his cares where to have money, how to get his house found? What service can a mind thus distempered think upon? or if he chance to think upon any, how shall he do that he gladliest would? He prays God he come no more home, if he has not in this little while spent a thousand pounds within a fifty or three score.

He does ask yet but his diets, and if Mr. Hales would make as good haste in selling his land as he does in entreating him to it, would spend his own first, and cry for his allowances after. Does think there be that owe him their help. If they be not able to pay presently, he will bear with them; if they be, and will not, they do him a good deal of wrong.

He cannot serve without heart, nor live without money. Can less bear this his infelicity, that he must be where spending is necessary, where he must with unreasonable blushing borrow and still fail his day. Had rather write of other things, but sorrow guideth his heart, and his hand the pen.

God send him once home, and he trusts he shall better indent ere he come forth again. Will stop, and let rage of his race, praying that by some means or other he may be holpen to his due. " And thus in frost, all out of temper, I wish you more than I care for myself, health. Yours in temper and out of temper." [Two pages.]

---- Jan. 22. Blois. Sir John Masone to the Council. Requests passports for one year may be granted to Sir Hugh Campbell, Sheriff of Ayr, his son Matthew, their two wives, and eight servants, to go from and return to France through England; and as Sir Hugh intends to purchase here three or four curtalls, begs that they may be allowed to pass without staying, any restraint to the contrary, if such there be, notwithstanding. [One page.]

--- Jan. 22. Blois. Same to same. Requesting passports for Mr. Hugh Kennedy and Mr. Ringan (Ninian) Cranstoun, two Scottish gentlemen, with seven or eight attendants, their horses and other necessaries, to go to Scotland through England; also that such stoned horses or curtalls as he might desire—one or two being at the most—shall pass without restraint. [One page.]

---- Jan. 23. Blois. Same to same. Apprizes them of the departure of Mons. de Lansac, a native of Guienne and "gentleman for the mouth," who has been sent by the French King as a mediator for peace between England and Scotland. Again refers to the case of the merchant of Orleans mentioned in his letter of the 20th.

The military preparations are supposed to be against the Emperor. "This Court was never so secret, and therefore the harder it is to know any certainty of things but as time shall reveal them."

The Chancellor of France has been recently dismissed, on the ground, as common report goes, that he was too slow for the office; but wise men think there was some other matter.

"This Court is all set upon pastimes, and between Candlemas and Shrovetide shall the marriages go forward with much triumph." [Four pages and a half.]

Eod. dieCopy of the preceding in Sir John Masone's Letter-Book. [Four pages.]

---- Jan. 24. Blois. Sir John Masone to the Council. Requesting letters of safe conduct for Sir James Douglas, of Donnelanerycke (Drumlanrig), with eight or ten servants, returning to Scotland through England, and that the same may be sent by John Douglas, who will wait upon their Lordships for Lord Maxwell's safe conduct. [One page.]

---- Jan. 28 Greenwich. The Council to Sir John Masone. Introducing to him a secret agent, "one that Balneys (Balneaves) the Scot hath committed of trust to be in France," and who will bring to him as much intelligence as the Scots have. They have given him 10l. towards his charge. [Half a page. Noted by Masone to have been written in cipher. Copy in Sir John Masone's Letter-Book.]

--- Jan 29. Greenwich. Same to same. In consequence of intelligence received from France, Scotland, and elsewhere, that the great military preparations by the French are intended against England, they desire him to learn from the French King himself their meaning in these preparations. [One page. Copy in Sir J. Masone's Letter-Book.]

---- Jan. 31. Greenwich. Same to same. Introducing the bearer, Mr. Dudley, who accompanies the Vidame to France, and requesting that the usual attentions and good services may be shown to him. [Half a page. Copy in Sir J. Masone's Letter-Book.]

----

Feb. 3. Augsburg. Sir Richard Morysine to Cecil. Has now in all received three letters from him; as glad of these as sorry that any sent from him should come short. Was in his last letter, as by this is sure Cecil perceives, wonderfully cumbered for lack of money.

At home he had not many that ever he durst open his lips to borrow of them any money; and here he would fain be taken for no beggar, not that he passes so much to be one, as that, being so counted, he shall be less able to do good service.

The rest of his calling be able to lash and lay on, and he, poor soul, must oft lose his night's rest, for that he cannot day it as others do. Thanks him for his friendship and services. If he had heard of his money before, his warm letter, which he sent last of all, had frozen itself to nothing.

"Let my lady, your wife, take heed she writes no Greek, for if she do, Joannes Sturmius is like to see it Mr. Ascham hath already done her errand to him, and, I do believe, you and she shall shortly see their letters in print. I will not, for all my saying, do more than shall stand well with both your pleasures; and yet, lest she chide me for some others' quarrel, it were my best to say I would show her letters to strangers; so I know she would be afraid to chide me.

But, what she will, she can write to few that will give her more thanks for a curst letter than I. And yet, let her take heed, for I can, as you may see by my last, speak apace when I am angry."

His wife sends her commendations to Cecil and his lady, wishing that when the former is at Court without her the latter were here. Is glad Mr. Pickering goeth into France, and hopes he shall easily maintain amity at the Court there. Ωσπερ μεν η ειρηνη τοις ανθρωποις τ'αγαθα παντα τικτει ουτω δε πολλα τα λυπαρα, και κακα εκ του πολεμου γινεται. He means as he writes, and wishes they might for three years war with nobody. [Three pages.]

--- Feb. 7. Florence. Francis Peyto to the Earl of Warwick. Hears nothing farther of the General Council proclaimed at Rome. Some doubt expressed as to its proceeding, as many things may fall before Mayday to let the same. Favours have been offered to him of late, as, with the occasion of their so granting, the inclosure will show; to these his reply is deferred, because they be from Rome removed.

It is such as may both well excuse the not accepting, and also still maintain him in his credit. The Pope gives himself good time in feasts and triumphs which have been made this carnival. He is liberal of his pardons, for in this city be many of his jubilees. He is known altogether to be imperial, and only favourer of that faction. He rather attendeth to enrich his own, than of Cardinals to augment the number; for hitherto there is but one that hath the hat, where many more were hoped.

The Genoese are deceived in their vain hope, for at present Don Diego is there, and doth eftsoons return the labourers to the fortress, with whom it is there now matter of state that will with words gainsay the same. So is the liberty there enlarged! Spaniards keep them under awe, whose number daily increaseth in the country thereabouts, but in the city not yet received.

On the 25th ult. Don Garcia, son to the Viceroy of Naples, and brother to the Duchess here, passed in post this way to Augsburg. He seeks from the Emperor the reversion of Prince Doria's room upon the seas. Hitherto he has only had charge of the Neapolitan galleys, with which he has so well behaved, especially in the late taking of Africa, that he is thought likely to obtain his object; and the rather because of his brother-in-law, the Duke, a man of whose help oftimes the Emperor is served, and maketh good stay in his affairs in Italy.

He is also a Prince of wise and notable government, as by his proceedings daily is declared. It is thought that the Bishop of Rome and the Duke here will shortly raise some men to send to the service of the Emperor in Hungary, where he has recently gained from the Turk a strong fortress, with the death of many that were therein.

P.S. Has just received from Rome a letter of 31st January, copy of which he annexes to the inclosure. Is uncertain what may be the foundation of these conjectures, but will prove if he may learn the same. [One page and a half.] Incloses,

~ Copy letter from Rome of 17th January. Advises him to prevent Henry Stafford, who, at coming home, is likely to do him small pleasure, with a wise letter to some of his friends. He may thank his Lord's Grace and his uncle, who has of late spoken to the former in his behalf, and obtained a promise of effectual recommendation of him to any Prince of Italy, where he thinks he may best be entertained, and like a gentleman, in case he would willingly forsake all that he has in England, and return to Christ's laws.

Writer will communicate his mind more at length in next letter; meanwhile, let him consider which he should prefer of these four, the Duke of Florence, Duke of Urbino, Duke or Cardinal of Mantua, or Don Diego, all of whom are his Lord's entire friends. Were the writer to choose, he would select Urbino, for the quietness of that state, before the rest; he has a singular friend in good estimation both with the Duke and Duchess there to further Peyto in that behalf; but let him do as his heart likes best.

~Letter of 31st January. Of his Lord of Sarum, and the writer's love and affection towards him, he needs never to doubt, for he shall find them always ready to his advancement. By a former letter he might perceive in what state Mr. Thomas Stafford, his Lord's nephew, stands with his Grace, whom writer takes to be of such grace and qualities that perchance the time may come that both he and Peyto may be glad, not only to serve him, but that he ever came into these parts. He is not a little affectionate to Peyto upon his uncle's report and that of the writer; so that Peyto, being little older than he, may be hereafter better able to serve him than the writer, whose good years be almost past. No man living knows what he may come to.

Conjectures more things than may be thought on, and therefore writes this as a warning, that when the time comes, Peyto may say the writer prophesied this long before. Let him in the meanwhile proceed diligently in obtaining virtue, and serve God faithfully, and put not all his confidence and trust in a little plot of land he has at home, which every hour may be taken from him. Has been absent from Rome with his Lord's Grace for 15 days, for which reason he did not write last week. [One page.]

--- Feb. 7. Blois. Sir John Masone to the Council. Had received by Francisco their letter of the 29th January, on Monday, the 2d curt., at 7 p.m. Next morning requested audience, which was deferred for two days on account of the great pastimes invited. Gives an account of the King's and courtiers' tilting, the processions and masks, to which the Ambassadors were invited, and had places prepared for them; and of the grand banquet made by the Cardinal of Lorraine, at which the King himself was steward of the feast and the Constable clerk of the kitchen, "to which also were bade the Ambassadors, to see but not to feed."

He "never saw a more goodly or a richer sight. A man would have thought that all the jewels in Christendom had been assembled together, so gorgeously were the dames beset with great numbers of them, both their heads and bodies."

On Friday had audience of the King after dinner. Details at much length their conversation, and a subsequent one with the Constable, in both of which the most positive assurances of friendship and disclaimer of any hostile intentions were given. The general belief is, that the preparations are designed against the Emperor, whose Ambassador "standeth in such doubt, as he hath already sent away his wife."

Divers bands have been sent lately to Piedmont and some into Burgundy; and the Emperor, on the other side, makes himself strong in both places. The preparations made of soldiers are most in Gascoigne and Burgundy. The Swiss are, by all means, entertained, and so are all such states of Italy as these men make any account of.

The strife between the Bishop of Rome and the King for the archbishopric of Marseilles is ended, and the Bishop for this time hath his mind. The harangue against the English made at Court was by the prothonotary Monluc, in presence of the King, the Queen of Scots, the Cardinal of Lorraine, and Mons. de Guise, assembled to discuss the pacification of matters in Scotland. "It should seem he brast out therewith ex abundantia cordis, and of his cankered malice towards us."

Had brought the matter of the lewd book before the Council; states what occurred on the occasion. Has discovered that the author is Peter Hogue, "who hath long served in all practices between the subjects and the Prince against whom this King hath meant hostility. He was first Secretary to Rincon, and sithen to Poulin, and lastly he was joined with Monluc in Scotland and Ireland, and was at the commotion time in habit dissembled in England. But, finally being sent to the Emperer's countries to make some stir there, he is taken, and lieth by the feet in Riplemonde, like to have that that he hath long sithen deserved."

This Peter wrote the book, but as far as he can learn it was published by the said malicious Monluc, who is now in Gascony, and to whom they have promised shortly to speak withal. Concerning the service of his religion, he has ever since his coming to the Court, used on the holidays, for the most part, the communion, and some time in the working days the common prayers, which he causes to be done in the open place where he dines and sups, and at such an hour as the end thereof, for the most part, meets with the beginning of his dinner, and hitherto never found any man fault therewith, and yet have a good number at Sunday times come to the God-speed of it, as well Frenchmen as Scots.

Is informed that certain rovers have gone from these quarters to lie about the coast of Devonshire and Cornwall, among which, besides Scots and French, are many Englishmen. The blind Scot, that nameth himself Archbishop of Armachan [Armagh], passed by this Court five or six days ago, and was very much made of; he has gone in post to Rome, being appointed to be one of the doers in the Council.

Captain Poulin is restored to liberty. Chastillon is now in great credit. His heart is made to bleed by hearing the base sort of the Court, both Scots and French, who are glad to hear anything to the disadvantage of the English doctrine, talk of the buying and selling of offices in England, the decaying of grammar schools and the Universities, with many other enormities, which they show one to another, printed in English books, and set forth by English preachers.

Rolfe has come in his old age to be a student in Orleans. The Portuguese Ambassador, having a suit in England for certain plate and other things spoiled upon the sea, has requested him to write to their Lordships for favourable justice. He is a right honest man, therefore it were a good deed if he might be restored to some part of what he has lost. Desires to know what answer he shall give to the Earl of Huntly, who often sends to him touching his passport. [Eleven pages.]Eod. die.Copy of the preceding in Sir John Masone's Letter-Book. [Eleven pages and a half.]

----

Feb. 16. Westminster. The Council to Sir John Masone. Acquaint him with the proceedings at their conferences with Mons. de Lansac on the subjects of his mission, viz., the settling of differences between them and the Scots as to boundaries, the ransom of prisoners, free traffic on sea and land between the English and Scots, &c.

The main propositions had been agreed to, and what remained are to be arranged by Masone and Sir William Pickering, who is shortly to be sent to France on a special mission. The Bishop of Winchester was yesterday deprived of his bishopric, "and in his disobedience and obstinate refusing of the King's Majesty's mercy and favour, showed not only a wilful pride, but also a cankered heart of an evil subject." [Six pages. Draft.]

Eod. die.Contemporary copy of the preceding. [Six pages.] Eod. die.Copy of the preceding in Sir John Masone's Letter-Book, with copy of the articles delivered by Mons. de Lansac, and extract from a treaty between Edward IV. and James III. of Scotland, referred to in the letter, and which are not in the drafts. [Nine pages.]

---- Feb. 17. Westminster. Same to same. Sir William Pickering has departed with a joint commission for Masone and himself, as mentioned in their former letter; think that as Masone has more readiness in the French tongue, that he should take upon him the handling of the arguments contained in the instructions sent in their last.

On the same day that Lansac had received his answer, news arrived from the Captain of Berwick and Sir Robert Bowes that the Governor was at Edinburgh with all the French troops in Scotland and the complement of five or six Scottish ships, for the purpose, as was reported, of going to the borders to punish certain thieves in Liddesdale, but in reality, as the Captain of Berwick was informed, to make a sudden attack upon that town.

Of this they had apprized Lansac and the French Ambassador, who were immediately to despatch a messenger to Scotland to prevent hostilities. [Three pages and a half. Draft.] Eod. die.Copy of the preceding in Sir John Masone's Letter-Book. [Two pages and a half.]

--- Feb. 18. [Westminster.] Instructions from the King and Council to Sir John Masone and Sir William Pickering, sent to the French King for the purpose of settling the mission of Mons. Lansac by an amicable arrangement of all the differences between England and Scotland. [Eighteen pages. Draft.] Eod. die.Copy of the preceding in Sir John Masone's Letter-Book. [Eight pages.]

----

Feb. 23. Blois. Sir John Masone to the Council. Three or four days since was informed by a wise man and of practice, whom the French King uses often in his secret affairs in Germany, that notwithstanding all their fair words and specious appearance, the King and Court are bent upon war with England, and assuredly will if the Turk comes into Hungary.

That this is prompted by Mons. de Guise and his house, in so much as it is already half concluded to send away the Queen of Scots with all convenient speed, and with her 300 or 400 men of arms, and 10,000 foot. His informant is much affected to the English religion, and having a great desire to go to England to see Bucer, may probably accompany Masone on his return, when their Lordships may learn more.

Endeavouring subsequently to ascertain what ground there was for such assertions, had learned that lately the King was highly irritated by a letter from Lord Maxwell complaining of the refusal of his safe conduct; which feeling has been fomented by the Queen of Scots and her house, who bear in this Court the whole swing.

"The Scottish Queen desireth as much our subversion, if it lay in her power, as she desireth the preservation of herself, whose service in Scotland is so highly taken here, as she is in this Court made a goddess. Mons. de Guise and M. d'Aumale, and the Cardinal of Lorraine, partly at her egging, and partly upon an ambitious desire to make their house great, be no hindrance of her malicious desire."

The Constable, he thinks, would be content things proceeded otherwise. Recommends vigilance; Fistula dulce canit volucrem dum decipit auceps.

"The credit of the house of Guise in this Court passeth all others. For albeit the Constable hath the outward adminstration of all things, being for that service such a man as hard it were to find the like, yet have they as much credit as he with whom he is constrained to sail, and many times to take that course that he liketh never a whit."

Francisco has arrived with their Lordships' letter announcing their intention to send Pickering: as it may be sometime before they can have speech with the King, who is abroad hunting, and will not be within eight miles of the town for five or six days, sends back Francisco, who will inform them of the precarious state of his health, which compels him for the most part to keep his bed.

In case it shall please God in the mean season either to call for him, or to continue him in this weakness, their Lordships shall not do amiss to give Pickering commission to do the errand alone, wherein peradventure he will otherwise be scrupulous. The malapert glory of the Bishop of Winchester that was is in no place better known than in this Court. This day a great many Scottish gentlemen were despatched with commission to take shipping in Flanders. [Six pages. Indorsed by Cecil.] Eod. die.Copy of the preceding in Sir John Masone's Letter-Book. [Six pages and a half.]

---- Feb. 24. Augsburg. Sir Richard Morysine to Cecil. What should he look for Cecil's long letters, when the shortest be so comfortable to him? It is his comfort that all his doings do not displease. His trust is his time weareth fast away, and that some good chance or other will send him home. If ever he comes home again, and may do anything with those that do send him abroad, he thinks he can say so much for poor men tarrying at home, that he shall be the last that shall be sent with any great Court to shame himself.

His continual fear to lack, or rather his own continual lacks, must needs grieve him, and yet do they not half as much as that he is forced still to weary the Lords with his beggarly complaints. He thinks they would reckon him worthy some help, if they knew how his things waste away.

He could write of his beggary till to-morrow, and find matter plenty. If he goes to anything else, now the Lords' letters are done and he almost tired, Cecil sees œgri hominis somnia how they hang together. Makes suit that some clerk of the Council might write but this much to men that serve abroad, "your letters written such or such a day are received," &c.

If Cecil were in this case, he would think it as necessary as anything can be. Unquietness beareth such a rule in men's heads, while they may doubt whether things come as they be sent or no, that he shall do nothing wisely that feeleth that trouble, if he be no wiser than the writer is. Cecil sees he is troubled, therefore will no longer trouble Cecil. [Two pages.]

----

Feb. 25. List of despatches sent this day to Sir John Masone and Sir William Pickering, viz.:— 1. Credentials for Sir William Pickering as Ambassador. 2. Instructions for Sir William Pickering. 3. Letter of revocation of Sir John Masone. 4. Letters from the Council to Sir John Masone. 5. Letters to Sir William Pickering to send Thomas Dannett. [Half a page. Indorsed by Cecil.]

--- Feb. 25. Westminster.298. Letter from King Edward VI. to Sir John Masone. Revoking his appointment as Ambassador, and notifying that of Sir William Pickering as his successor in office. [One page. Copy in Sir J. Masone's Letter-Book.]

----

March 17. Blois. Henry II., King of France, to King Edward VI. Acknowledging receipt of his letter by Sir William Pickering, and his concession of such points as had been urged by Lansac; for the completing of what remains will shortly despatch a gentleman who will pass through England to Scotland. [Countersigned by Bochetel. One page. French.]

---- March 17. Blois. Sir John Masone to Cecil. Requests that there may be no delays in the business of Sir William Pickering, who has promised to return within 18 or 20 days. "These men sithen this last commission seem much altered in disposition towards us, and in all men's opinions we are like this year as the last to be friends. If they mean otherwise, they be devils and no men." The Master of Erskine, whom he takes to be a very honest man, and given to peace and unity, will, with M. de Lansac, within two days be in England. [One page.]

---

March 20. Blois. Sir John Masone to the Council. Requesting a safe conduct for the Archbishop of Glasgow and his retinue, desiring to go to and return from Scotland through England. [Half a page.]

--- March 21. Blois. Henry II., King of France, to King Edward VI. Re-credentials of the Sieur de Lansac, sent to England on the matters contained in the letter brought by Sir William Pickering [Countersigned by Bochetel. One page. French.]

--- March 23. Augsburg. Sir Richard Morysine to Cecil. Perceives by Mr. Hales that his ciphering now doth as much cumber Cecil as his lying too open at the first gave occasion for warning him to play closer. Sees that in vitium ducit culpœ fuga si caret arte, and will from henceforth mean to hit the mean. Were Cecil in his place, believes that he would send few of those things open-faced that are now covered with cipher.

Mr. Hales says he is too merry. He must answer and say they be morosiores quam quibus morem gerere vel queat vel velit, that cannot allow him more mirth than he at any times hitherto has used.

Mr. Hales writes that he has spoken to Cecil to help that the Lords may license him to have his diets in leather. "If you think I could be content to put you in silk, see that you help to clad me in leather." It is a mean spur to service to be always wanting; but he dares not touch this string, it maketh him all day after out of temper. [Three pages.]

--- March 23. Blois. Sir John Masone to the Council. Although the Master of Erskine and M. de Lansac were to have left last Thursday, they had been detained until this present Tuesday, "the occasion whereof is the far lying of the Chancellor from the Court, without whom, albeit he be removed from the seal, they conclude no great matter here; so much do they esteem a wise and a faithful servant, notwithstanding some displeasure taken with him upon a private matter.

The Master of Erskine seems to be of a plainer sort than many are of that country, and to mean very much the sincere reconciliation of the two nations together. M. de Lansac has everywhere made honourable report of their Lordships' courteous handling of him. M. d'Estrees has returned, but the vessel mentioned in his letter of the 18th has been stayed.

The Rhinegrave has returned from Denmark to a house of his wife in Gascony, albeit he was in sundry places by the way narrowly laid for. The Turk prepares 200 galleys for the recovery of Africa, to the great fear of all the coast of Italy, Sicily, and the islands in the Mediterranean. Much practice of late to make Parma hold of the French King in like manner as the state of Mirandola, and M. de Thermes, under pretence of going to Rome as Ambassador, has been some time there for that purpose, to the concluding whereof M. St. Pierre has very lately been despatched hence in post.

The Bishop of Rome winks at this, and thereby has provoked the choler of the Emperor, who cannot but must much storm thereat, since it will give the French King a hold to do great harm in Italy when he pleases.

There has been a great skirmish between Don Fernando and Signor Octavio touching the question of the frontiers of Parma and Piacenza, wherein many men are miscarried; and news have been received that Signor Octavio has beaten down all the Emperor's arms and crosses, and planted in their places the arms of France.

Recommends the case of the French merchant at Dover, as one very evident, even by the deposi tions of the inhabitants of Dover, and demanding speedy justice. Begs them to hasten the return of Pickering. [Three pages. Partly in cipher, deciphered.]

----

March 30. Cleves. William Duke of Cleves, to King Edward VI. Letters of credence in favour of Herman Cruser, Doctor of Laws, who visits England on business of the Duke's sister. [One page.]

----

April 7. Augsburg. Sir Richard Morysine to the Council. Hearing that the Lady Regent meant to make towards Flanders to-day, had on Saturday last requested an audience, which was granted the next morning at nine o'clock. Her Grace's professions of friendship on part of the Emperor and herself were great. Had told her that the news of this Court, which are that three French ships should be going into Ireland and drowned by the way, made him afraid the English should have good need of powder ere they should have leave to fetch it out of Flanders, if her Grace did not both help him to speak, and after help to speed such as should be appointed to fetch it.

That the Emperor had given him a very gentle answer, showing a desire to furnish as much as could be conveniently spared; yet he saw the suit would finally be committed to her Grace's order, and therefore prayed her as her plenty might serve their need to help them.

He had very good words, "if there were to spare, and we should have occasion to spend powder, we should," &c.; but his prayer is and shall be that there may be no more need of powder than they have will to afford it, and then it must either be wanted or fought hard for before it is had, or shortly after. M. D'Arras had been at Council with her Grace a great while before he came.

Whatsoever the matter was, he saw by her countenance she was in dumps, although, smiling twice or thrice, she did what she could to keep cares in the dark. Here be more posting and little audience given to foreign matters. The Bishop of Jaen, as yet, has not spoken with the Emperor since his coming. Pigghinus would fain take his leave.

The King of Sweden's men hitherto cannot get to his Majesty. The King of Poland's Ambassador has been there these two months upon taking his leave; he abideth his good hour. It is said that the Queen of Poland is either stark dead or not like to live, and that France will practise with him for a marriage. Has waited upon two Polish gentlemen that came to see the Lady Elizabeth's Grace.

Knows that they both went home great praisers of her person and of her bringing up. The Frenchmen that were here have gone, as their Ambassador told Bernardine, towards Vienna. Cannot imagine why they should travel that way, unless it be that France may give from thence better advices to the Turk.

Rumours here that France meaneth a voyage into Ireland. Letters from their Ambassador at the Turk's Court had arrived at Venice late at night. In the morning they called a Council, and forthwith despatched 600 new soldiers to Corfu, with money and victuals for themselves and those already there.

The Turk is said to have at Vallona, hard against Italy, 200 vessels to ship over horses, every vessel able well to carry little lack of 40 horses. To-day, Signor Gastaldo, who was Master of the Emperor's camp in his wars of Germany, goes towards Vienna. Some Spaniards lately slain by the Turks. Africa not thought to be the mark the Turk shooteth at. Italy and Sicily never fitter to be assaulted, both being so weary of the Spaniards that they care not who comes, so they may trudge away. Great dearth of corn and victuals in both.

The General Council, it is said, will be prorogued to September; because of inconvenience to those that are called and are now on their way to it, supposes they will counterfeit a beginning, but there be few likelihoods that it should last any while. Germany is unquiet, and like to wax madder now that cold and snow have almost left. Two of these French gentlemen that came hither of late did communicate at the Protestants' church under both kinds.

Duke of Oldenburg is said to have entered into Magdeburg with 300 men well horsed and well hearted. Will know more of the matters of that town by copy of a letter received from thence sent herewith (missing). Since then news have come that on the 25th March the inhabitants had given Duke Maurice's men another great overthrow, and taken prisoner his chief captain, Peter Pfefferkorn, with 200 more, whom, after disarming, they drove altogether before them into the town.

Mutual complaints of the Emperor's Council and Duke Maurice; the former thinking that the Duke might have done more than he hath, and the latter that he was promised better aid than hath been sent to him. Men mutter that the Duke will procure himself no longer the hatred of Germany by farther offering displeasure to these men.

The three Bishops-Electors and the Palsgrave, who have been always confederated, are, as it is said, together; some think for the Coadjutoria, others because the Emperor has taken into his hands Superiorem Palatinum, and the decease of this man doth make a claim ad Inferiorem. The Court will be but meanly furnished now King Maximilian has gone, the Queen going, and the Electors and Princes have left. The Prince of Spain is also ready to depart.

The Emperor has here a guard of 2,000 foot, and it is said intends to bring 1,500 cavalry into the town; if so, the horses there, that now can hardly get meat, must starve, or seek victuals in other places, there being no hay within a dozen English miles round about. People supposed his Majesty would have removed hence, because wine and all kinds of victuals wax not only unreasonable for their price, but not to be had for their scarceness; yet now it is thought they shall lie here most part of the summer.

Physicians think it perilous for his Majesty to remove till his health is stronger. Knows not whether it were better to be at the expense of removing where things may be had cheaper, or to remain here, dearth notwithstanding. Trusts their Lordships will devise, or rather have devised already, some help for him. [Four pages. A few lines in cipher, deciphered.]

---- April 10. Draft instructions by King Edward VI., with the advice of his Council, to Dr. Wotton, Dean of Canterbury and York, sent to the Emperor as Ambassador. He is to explain that no offence was intended by his Majesty, and if any discontent has been caused by the over-earnest speaking of religion to M. D'Arras or the Emperor by the Ambassador now revoked, it is to be ascribed to the excessive zeal of the man.

That his Majesty, on grounds of natural equity, expects that his Ambassador in Flanders shall have the same free exercise of his religion in Flanders as the Emperor's has in England. And in regard to the Lady Mary, that no promise of the exercise of religion had ever been made; that a prescribed form of common prayer has been established by Parliament, and that as a subject she is bound, as well as his Majesty, thereby, so should he not but do unjustly to violate it, or in any point to agree to the breaking of it. [Ten pages.]Two copies of the above, with slight variations, attached.

--- April. 11. [Greenwich.] Instructions by the King and Council to Sir William Pickering, sent to France to notify to the French King the appointment of the Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry [Richard Sampson], Sir Robert Bowes, Sir Leonard Beckwith, and Sir Thomas Chaloner as Commissioners to meet with those of France, for settling the boundaries of Scotland and England, about the beginning of May next, and to commence his duties as Ambassador on the departure of Sir John Masone. [Draft. Seven pages.]

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April 14. Augsburg. Sir Richard Morysine to the Council. So long as he hears not from their Lordships, he will pay no attention to the rumours that come abroad. And yet when it is reported that the French King meaneth to be busy in Ireland, and his Ambassador here says it is most false, he might both answer others, if he knew the state of matters at home, and believe the Ambassador as he should see cause.

It is said to be very certain that the French King has 28 galleys at Marseilles, and has lately sent thither 140,000 crowns to do such things withal as are in hand; there is also much making of biscuits and such like provision. Further, that a Turkish galiot has arrived there, to solicit the French King to be in readiness, that both their forces may be abroad at the same time.

The Emperor has also new ships and galleys at Barcelona. The Prince of Spain's departure is delayed, either because the French galleys may cumber his passage or because Andrew Doria has not yet returned from the succouring of Africa. Some say he means to seek out Dragut Rey, in hope to find him in certain straits where he must either fight or yield. Heard this day that Doria is very sick, and some think that by this time he is stark dead. Was told yesterday that letters from Venice mention the capture of a castle of the Duke of Ferrara by Ferrante Gonzaga; but heard to-day that it is a castle belonging to Parma, called Brusa. Whether it be the one or the other, it is thought that war will follow.

Yesterday came from the Bishop of Rome one Dandino, a bishop, to commune with the Emperor in matters of Parma; so that the Bishop has three bishops here, who severally practise with M. D'Arras. Dandino, having risen by the house of Farnese, is like to favour Duke Octavio's desires, being thought to be full Farnese, as the Bishop of Jaen is thought to be Imperial; but both, notwithstanding, use all their friendship to the service of a third.

Some reckon that the Bishop of Rome, either to dash the Council or for some other reason, so mindeth to cause a jar between the two Princes, that he will give to the Emperor all the interest that Rome has in Parma, and suffer him after to deal with France for the recovery of it as best he can. Carolo Vic [Carlowicius], agent here for Duke Maurice, was sent four days ago to his master by the Emperor, with instructions, it is supposed, to agree those of Magdeburg, finding less hope now to do them harm than at the beginning.

Their Lordships must take all these things as reports, and not as of his own certain knowledge. Hears that an old fellow with a long beard has gone from this Court to serve the Lady Mary; he was a good while servant to Chapuis, and after that to Dilphius, and he has letters, to whom Morysine wots not, from the French Ambassador, which he wrote with leisure and very diligently.

Three days since the Admiral of Flanders wrote hither that the French King's naval preparations are great, and thought it convenient the Emperor should have a good eye to his doings. To-day or to-morrow the Emperor entereth into the Diet, and it is thought will not tarry in it past 10 or 12 days: if he means to accord with Magdeburg and Bremen, as some suppose, it is like enough other things are in hand.

All men think certainly that war will be proclaimed ere May be quite expired. Pigghinus has taken leave of the Emperor, and goes, they say, to the Council. The Emperor has again written to all his, that they fail not to be at Trent on the day appointed. Thinks that the more show there is of a Council, the less it is meant; and that the Emperor's taking of guaiacum and writing of new letters is but to make men imagine that he thinks of nothing but of the Council; for if the Council were certainly meant, the first letters from the Emperor would serve well enough to command as many of his subjects as must and mean to obey.

Yesterday heard that the Bishop of Rome has imprisoned two Bishops in the Castle of St. Angelo, because they have become Protestants: one of these is the Bishop of Bergamo, a Venetian of good house; the other's name he knows not. Paulus Vergerius has set them a goodly example; if these be come, more may follow. Vergerius has done a marvellous deal of good by leaving his bishopric and forsaking his hope of growing great in the world; but he has done much more good by printing daily of new books, which go in great numbers into Italy. Many of these are dedicated to the King's Majesty.

The man has left all to follow Christ, and lives very hardly. Many there are can gladlier commend well doing, than provide that virtue go not a-begging. "Bucer's death has raised up again the bruit that was here, that we are become Jews. The tale is thus told: the King's Majesty asking Bucer how the Bishop of Rome's authority might be quite extinct? His answer was, 'Sir, Messias is not yet come, and therefore the authority that Christ hath given him is to be accounted as none.'"

Their Lordships see what lust they have to lie, that lie thus, not so much as colouring it with some likelihood of truth. "Bucer is safely laid up, and our country not the worse of a mite that they, which know no more of Christ than his name and dwelling-place, do take us all for damned souls." Many Spaniards and Italians this Lent past went to the Bishop of Rome's Nuncio to be absolved, for that they had served in the wars the King of England.

Yesterday saw a letter from Ferdinando's Court that as yet little harm has been done on either part, but the Bassa of Buda has gathered a great power, rather to defend himself than annoy others, although some think he waits a larger force from Adrianople and Belgrade, and then, on all sides at once, to set upon Transylvania. Sends herewith a letter from Wittenberg to an honest man of this town, containing the matters which have been done at Magdeburg during the last month. [Four pages.] Incloses,

319. I. From Wittenberg, 23d March. Here they are building boats for making a bridge across the Elbe. They make frequent sallies, and beyond all expectation defeat Maurice's troops. They intercept ammunition and provisions and convey them into the city. So vigorously do they fight, that two days ago heavy firing was heard about 12 miles from this, and is still occasionally.

All say that it is quite impossible they can take the city. The day before these letters were written many country people came to Wittenberg severely wounded, who said that they had saved their lives by concealing themselves behind the dead bodies.

When Maurice's troops surrounded the gate to prevent issue from the city, these countrymen were told to leave or abide the consequences. While they delayed 2,000 soldiers rushed out of the city, slew about 300 of them, and attacking a large number of troops who were defending the trenches, killed some, dispersed others, captured several together with a standard, and took them to the city.

These on the same night they dismissed, with white rods in their hands, after disarming them and writing down their names. John Margrave of Custrin desired to reconcile them to Maurice, and a convention was held at Corbet, but without results. [One page.]

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April 18. Amboise. Sir John Masone to the Council. George Paris, the Irish agent, mentioned in previous letters, has arrived, in company with a great gentleman from Ireland, offering the service of the rebels, with their country, to the French King, if he will send troops thither.

They have had very good countenance both of the King and of the Constable, and have been in communication with the Bishop of Rome's Ambassador; but it is understood that they have been informed they may look for no aid hence. Details the political intrigues and differences among the Scots at the Court. The Emperor is exceedingly displeased with the Pope, whom he believes to have been a worker in the affair of Parma; and it seems that he has no fancy to be doing with the French King, by whom he has been so pricked lately, as, if he had any mind thereunto, he could not have kept his patience.

Rumours that the Emperor mindeth to have war with the English. The Scottish Queen's shipping is hasted very much, and it is supposed that she will embark a month sooner than was determined. General musters through France. No great haste making there for sending to the General Council. The reports as to the Turk's intentions against Africa are dying away.

The frontier of France upon Spain is very straitly kept. The King of Navarre has been dangerously ill, but is recovering. Lady Fleming departed hence with child by the French King, and it is thought that upon the arrival of the Queen Dowager in Scotland she shall come again to fetch another. States his objections to corporations. Complains of the long absence of Pickering, of his continued feeble health, want of money, and relative discomforts and inconveniences. [Nine pages and a half.]Eod. die.Copy of the above in Sir John Masone's Letter-Book. [Nine pages. Printed by Tytler, Vol. i., p. 351.]

---- April 19. Brussels. Sir Thomas Chamberlain to same. A Secretary of this Court, named Matthew Strick, leaves in four or five days for Scotland, in the capacity of Ambassador resident there, and a like Ambassador from Scotland is expected. Bremen and Hamburg are reported to have agreed with the Emperor, but Magdeburg still holds out. Great warlike preparations are made in Spain, and all the merchant-vessels are pressed into service: their destination is not known, but is supposed to be for another voyage to Algiers. [One page.]

----- April 20. Greenwich. The Council to Sir John Masone. Sir William Pickering has been detained by them until the Scottish matter should be farther proceeded in. He now leaves, and they request he may be thoroughly instructed by Masone before he enters upon his official duties. [Half a page. Copy.]

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April 22. Amboise. Sir John Masone to the Council. The name of the person who came with George Paris is Cormac O'Connor, the eldest, as he says, of nine brothers all alive; and he states that his father is the great worker of all this rebellion, and could never be induced to submit, notwithstanding the general coming in of the rest of the Irish nobility, in the time of King Henry VIII., although he has one house within a stone's cast of the English pale, and another within 20 miles of it.

He charges the French King's messengers with causing the whole stir, and has requested from the Constable an aid of 5,000 men, which, with their own force, would suffice not only for defence but for offence. He has been put off with fair words, and is likely to receive nothing else; but the Queen Dowager of Scotland and the Vidame would fain have them helped. The Scots here are much discontented, and mislike the yoke that foolishly they have put their heads in. Mr. Dudley and Mr. Stukeley, who have been made very much of, return to England in seven or eight days.

Schertel, the Protestant captain of Augsburg, despairing of pardon from the Emperor, has within these three days come to the Court and having offered his service to the French King, is very well entertained for the first coming. Hears nothing of Pickering, whose tarrying he can only impute to his own ill-luck.

To-day news have arrived that the Queen of Bohemia has been brought to bed of a son, and that both her husband and the Prince of Spain were departing for Spain, the one to see his wife, and the other to keep the ordinary Courts held every fourth year in Castile, Aragon, and Catalonia, to the great advantage of the King. [Two pages and a half.]Eod. dieCopy of the preceding in Sir J. Masone's Letter-Book. [Two pages and a half.]

---- April 27. Amboise. Sir John Masone to the Council. The Irishmen mentioned in his last letter were on Friday willed to keep their lodgings, and to resort no more to the Court until they should be sent for. Supposes they will be despatched away very secretly, or that the object of their mission being so clearly known, it is not deemed expedient to entertain them so openly.

The departure of the Scottish Queen is deferred again; some think because of a fancy that the French King has for one of her train; Mr. Dudley has behaved himself in this Court very honestly, and has communicated to Masone all that he could learn by haunting the company of the Vidame, than whom a more superstitious man is not in all this realm, and who has done all in his power to have the Irishmen aided.

Longs to hear from England, having had no tidings from thence since the 26th of February. Begs to be informed if there is any alteration touching Pickering, in order that he may provide for such things as are necessary for his office, whereof, by too much trust, he is at this present so destitute as never was there in any Court a more miserable Ambassador.

Yesterday arrived a Danish nobleman, called the Count D'Igles, who was brought up at this Court, and has come, as he alleges, to christen a son of Marshal St. André. A post from the Commissioners on the frontiers of Scotland has just arrived by sea, and two days ago the Baron de Courton was despatched thither. [One page and a half.]Eod. die.Copy of the preceding in Sir J. Masone's Letter-Book. [One page.]

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April 28. Amboise. Henry II., King of France, to King Edward VI. Has instructed his Ambassador, the Sieur de Chemault, to request that his Majesty will cause to be delivered up to him a Scotsman, named Stuard, implicated in a conspiracy against his grand-daughter the Queen of Scotland. [French. One page.]

---- April 28. Augsburg. Sir Richard Morysine to Cecil. Though Germany cannot match England in sweet herbs, it can in nettles and such as have skill in stinging. He is a proof who wrote to the Council that Morysine was a messenger (αποστολος) rather than an Ambassador (πρεσβυς). Will not regard John Hales' complaints. Knows who says, it is strange if we can endure the cauteries of the physician, and not advice administered when we do wrong. Begs he will stand his friend, as he did by his attorney, when J. H. was there.

Knows the thanks that good advice deserves. Gives a quotation in Greek to this effect, and adds, "My Lady Cecil can easily spy my theft, and so see what I might a-stolen more. I must say my Lady Cecil, and not change an opinion so imprest in me." Must stick to his opinions in that Court like his grandfather. "Knight it you when you can, I may no more unknight you than I can unlady my wife, and yet her ladyship on working-days is very well content to be wrapped in English clothes, and like shortly to mourn for silk if leather make me not able to barat with some shifting mercer."

Thanks him for leather, as he expects to be baited when Wotton comes. Will be able to cast off the dog let loose upon him, if it be not the mastiff himself. Is sorry that Cecil would have him speak French, which he hardly understands; "Dieu vous garde, Mr. Buttes was wont to add, de bon jour." The French Ambassador has many advices that the two heads will not easily be reconciled. Cecil must induce him, for whose safety they are both most anxious, to yield a little of his state if the other cannot stoop.

Their chief object must be the security of the King and kingdom. Considers he is writing not only to Cecil, but to the Duke of Somerset. Cecil's lady must kneel for him, and pay his compliments to the Duchess. "In earnest, if I have no leather my men will go barefooted." Has written to Northampton and Warwick, in whom is all his trust. [Three pages. Holograph, partly in Greek, partly English in Greek characters.]

---- April 29. Amboise. Sir John Masone to the Council. A conspiracy to poison the young Queen of Scots has been detected. He that took the matter upon him is an archer of the guard, who has escaped into Ireland. Much search is made for him, and it is reported that he has been already stayed to be sent into Scotland, and so again into France.

The old Queen is fallen suddenly sick upon the opening of these news unto her. The design is supposed to have been devised by some miscontented Scots. The same post that brought these tidings also brought word that the Lady Fleming is brought a-bed of a man child, whereat the women here do not much rejoice.

On Monday a French post arrived from England, and since then there has been much talking of dissensions among certain of the English nobility. These he deplores, and thinks that the Ambassador ought to be informed of the truth of occurrents at home so as to stop such rumours: as for himself, these 10 weeks he is more ignorant of any occurrents of England than is the worst pack of this Court.

Is in continual hope of the return of Pickering. The Princess of Navarre is with child, to the great rejoicing of the whole house of Vendôme. The King of Navarre has settled 400 francs per ann. on the bearer who brought the news from his daughter, and on his heirs for ever.

The Duke of Vendôme is still with his father-in-law, not far from the frontiers; and it is thought that if the Emperor is not encumbered with the Turk, there shall be some exploit attempted for the recovery of Navarre. Has not heard from his doers in England touching the receipts of his diets, and beseeches their Lordships' aid herein.

He has lived on credit these two months, not without great interest, and as all his plate and moveables have been sent off, he has no help for himself on this side. His diets are not much more than 37 shillings a day, which only defray his horses and house rent. [Two pages.] Eod. die.Copy of the preceding in Sir J. Masone's Letter-Book. [Two pages.]

--- April 30. Venice. Peter Vannes to the Council. Takes advantage of the departure of a courier extraordinary to inform them that the Turk's preparations are daily more and more certified to be great, and besides the 109 galleys which he has ready, he is providing 40 or 50 more.

The doings of Andrew Doria are very prosperous to the Emperor's affairs, as will be seen by the inclosure communicated to him by the Emperor's Ambassador. The Bishop of Rome's demonstrations against Parma are like to turn into a calm, as it is reported that the Emperor is unwilling to kindle a war in Italy, and the Bishop of Rome is unable of himself to take any such enterprise in hand.

The Venetians are very busy, and in eight or ten days their general with the galleys shall set forth. The Prince of Spain, it is said, defers his journey to Spain until the return of Andrew Doria. This day Signor Daniel Barbaro has had his first audience of the Seigniory, and is understood to have reported very honourably of the King's Majesty and their Lordships. [One page and a half.] Inclosure.

----

May 1. Greenwich. Same to same. Informing him that on last St. George's day the French King had been elected a Knight of the Garter, and that on the 18th of the present month the Marquis of Northampton, the Bishop of Ely [Thomas Goodrich], and others are to go to France to invest his Majesty with the insignia of the Order, and requesting that he will remain to assist the deputation. [One page. Copy in Sir J. Masone's Letter-Book.]

---

May 6. Greenwich. The Earl of Warwick [John Dudley] to Sir John Masone. The delay in Sir William Pickering's return has been by occasion of this great Ambassade. Recommends his son Lord Lisle, who has been appointed Attaché to the Embassy. The Marquis of Northampton is to leave upon Monday in Whitsun-week. [One page. Copy in Sir John Masone's Letter-Book.]

----- May 7. Greenwich. The Council to Sir John Masone. Sending therewith his Majesty's letter to the French King of the 1st inst., desiring him to present it officially, and to mention the appointment of the Marquis of Northampton and the Bishop of Ely as Ambassadors extraordinary for the ceremony of investiture. [One page and a half. Draft.]

---- May 19. Chinon. Sir John Masone to the Council. Had received their letters of the 7th upon Thursday the 14th inst., and had ascribed the blame of their late despatch to the negligence of the courier or some inferior minister. On Monday, in Whitsun week, he waited upon the King, and presented the letter from the King his master. The French King was exceedingly delighted.

"I have not seen him more jocund, neither at any other time have I noted in him either a more pleasant or gentle countenance, either friendlier or more amiable words, which I could not guess but that they proceeded even from the bottom of his stomach."

Marshal St. André seems to rejoice very much of these outward signs of the increase of this amity. Is informed that he takes with him either two or three ships laden with wheat, and intends not to make too much haste to return, being desirous to have some experience of the English hunting, wherein they do exceed other nations. He also, it is said, brings with him a great number of the young gentlemen of the French Court.

If so, their Lordships doubtless will not let them lack convenient entertainment. Signor Ascanio has returned with certain overtures devised for the pacification of the matter of Parma, which it is thought will not take effect so soon, the less because that Don Fernando, on hearing of the revolt of Parma, had seized a town called Bozzelis [Bossolo], not far from thence, belonging to the Cardinal of Ferrara, and is now fortifying it. Its position being such as to impede supplies from Mirandola, marvellously troubles the French.

The Emperor is again reported to be dying. Has seen a letter from Rome, in which it is said that the Bishop of Armachan is thoroughly and very well despatched touching the matters of Ireland. What this may be he can rather conjecture than know certainly, but either is it some cursing, or giving the said realm in predam, or some mischief or other, which he trusts shall take the same effect as have other malicious practices which have hitherto been meant against England from that see.

The French King's ordinance, that all ecclesiastics shall reside half the year on their benefices, has given much offence to the Bishop of Rome. Monluc is likely to be sent thither concerning this. Congratulates them on their taking measures for the reformation of the coinage in England, which will be gladly appreciated both at home and abroad. Marshal St. André will not leave until he hears that the Marquis of Northampton has crossed the sea. [Three pages.]

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May 20. Brussels. Dr. Wotton to the Council. Arrived at Brussels on Monday in Whitsun-week, having tarried some days at Antwerp for sundry preparations necessary. Next morning Sir Thomas Chaloner and he sent notice of his arrival to the President de Mombarry, otherwise called de Saint Maurice, desiring audience of the Queen Regent.

Her Majesty did not return from hunting until late, but to-day (Wednesday), about 10 a.m., the President came and brought them to the Queen, to whom Wotton delivered the King's letter. She used herself gently enough, made much expression of amity, and mentioned that the Emperor would leave Augsburg in the beginning of next month to come downwards.

After leaving her they waited upon the French Queen, and did like commendations from the King to her; who also seemed to take it very well and used very gentle words to them. Intends to depart to-morrow, thinking to find the Emperor at Worms, where it is understood his Majesty will only wait for ships and boats convenient for him and his train.

Wherefore, had he not feared to offend the King, he could have been content to spare this journey to Augsburg or Worms, and have tarried for the Emperor here, knowing how little pleasure it is for strangers to travel in that barbarous country of Germany. "As I passed through Mechlin a servant of mine told me that one in a velvet coat asked him whether he were an Englishman? My man said, 'Yea,' The t'other asked him whether he were my servant? My man said, 'Yea.' 'Then,' quod the t'other, 'I pray you show your master that I would fain speak with him.' 'What is your name?' quod my man. 'Marry, Geoffrey Pole,' quod the other. When I heard this I told my man I would not speak with him, he having used himself as he had done.

Likewise here at Brussels, two gentlemen, the one called Kempe, the other Walgrave, would fain have spoken with me. I caused answer to be made to them that if they could make it appear to me that they had leave either to come out of England or to tarry here, I would be glad to speak with them, and else not. And so they went their ways." Desires to know his Majesty's pleasure whether he should have any communication with them, or other persons, if again sued for an interview. [Two pages.]

--- May 20. Greenwich. Commission from King Edward VI. to William Marquis of Northampton, Thomas Bishop of Ely, Sir John Masone, Sir Philip Hoby, Sir William Pickering, Sir Thomas Smith, and Dr. John Oliver, to conclude a treaty of marriage between his Majesty and the Princess Elizabeth, daughter of Henry II., King of France. [Three pages. Latin. Copy in Sir John Masone's Letter-Book.]

---

May 20. Greenwich. Commission from King Edward VI. to the same Commissioners to arrange a treaty of strict alliance and defence between France and England. [Three pages. Latin. Copy in Sir John Masone's Letter-Book.]

----

May 20. Greenwich. Instructions from King Edward VI. to the Marquis of Northampton and the other Commissioners aforesaid,—proceeding to France to invest Henry II. with the Order of the Garter,—to demand the Queen of Scots in marriage with the King of England; and in the event of that being refused, to solicit the hand of the Princess Elizabeth, daughter of the French monarch. With the various stipulations as to dowry, time for solemnization of the marriage, &c.

[Nine pages. Copy in Sir John Masone's LetterBook.] The treaty of marriage following upon the preceding commission has been printed by Rymer, Vol. xv., p. 273, 2d edition, 1728. First draft of the preceding (Eighteen pages), and fair copy thereof (Eight pages, indorsed by Cecil), without the three additional clauses contained in Masone's copy.

----

May 20. "A memoriall of such things as be to be considered for the instructions of the Lord Marquis" (Northampton). "An estimat of the enterteynement of the Lords that went over with my Lord Marquis." "A memorie for the enterteynement of my Lord Marquis and his treyne." In the first of these documents it is settled that there shall be no book of statutes (of the Order of the Garter), as hath been accustomed. [Five pages.]

---- May c. 20 or 21. Greenwich. King Edward VI. to Henry II., King of France. Informs him of the appointment of Commissioners to meet M. Lansac for settling the question of the Scottish boundaries, and giving credence to Sir William Pickering, who has been appointed resident Ambassador in France. [One page. Indorsed by Cecil. French. Copy.]

----

May 28. Angers. Sir John Masone to the Marquis of Northampton. Congratulates him on his arrival in France. The King is at present within three leagues of Angers. Recommends his Lordship for the more ease to come by water from Orleans, as the Loire is much greater than in times past at this season it hath been wont to be. M. de Boisdaulphin, a gentleman of much estimation and chief maître d'hôtel to the King, is to accompany M. de St. André to England and remain as Ambassador there. Has just been informed that the King will be here on Tuesday next, will not remain beyond three days, but will go to Chateaubriand, 15 or 16 leagues hence. [One page. Copy in Sir J. Masone's Letter-Book.]

----- May 31. Paris. The Marquis of Northampton to Sir John Masone. Thanks him for his letter, and informs him that his entertainment hitherto by the way has been so gentle and friendly that he is put out of care for needing of anything while he shall be in these parts. M. de Mandosse had met him at Boulogne, and M. de Villebon at Montreuil, and made him right good cheer, continuing their escort of him hither.

Had been visited by the Mayor and principal men of every town through which he passed, with such presents as they use. If Masone sees the King or the Constable, requests that he will express the Marquis's grateful sense of the attentions paid to him and his suite.

Was informed yesterday by M. de Mandosse that the King would receive him at Nantes. Will leave Paris about Wednesday next, and spend three days in journey between that city and Orleans, whence he will take the water as Masone recommends him. Sends his compliments to Lady Masone. [One page and a half. Copy in Sir J. Masone's Letter-Book.]

----

June 2. King Edward VI. to the Duke of Cleves. Re-credentials of Herman Cruser. Trusts that the answer conveyed by the bearer will appear just and reasonable. [Draft. One page.]

---- June 4. Paris. The Marquis of Northampton to the Council. Informs them of his honourable entertainment on his way to Paris and of his reception there. Will leave to-morrow, intending on Sunday to be at Orleans, whence he proceeds by water to Nantes, where the King willed him to arrive about the 15th. The Marshal St. André will bring with him to England a very brave company, and M. de Beaudaulphin, who is to remain there as Ambassador. Yesterday Sir Anthony Guidotti showed him a letter from Florence, which mentioned that Horatio Farnese, who had left Marseilles with two French galleys, intending to land on some part of the Italian coast, wherefrom he might best reach his brother at Parma, was by force of tempest driven into one of the Duke of Florence's ports called Vireg, near Pietra Santa, where, having with difficulty landed in a small boat, he was discovered and conveyed to the Duke then at Pietra Santa. Whether he will be detained or set at liberty by the Duke is not known. [Three pages. Indorsed by Cecil.]

---- June 4. Paris. Same to the Earl of Warwick, Lord Great Master of the King's Majesty's most honourable household. Sir William Pickering has been informed by Francis, a servant of the Vidame, who speaks good English, and in respect of having been educated there says he will at all times discover what he hears to be prejudicial to England, that one John Hutchins, an Englishman, formerly a tamborine under a lieutenant with Mr. Luttrell, has lately been at the French Court offering his service to the King, and to bring the Scilly Islands and some parts of Ireland into his hands.

The King gave small ear to his large promises, and licensed him to depart. He had thereafter seen the Vidame, and offered to send him intelligence from England, with plats, both of Jersey and Guernsey, and all the ports and coasts of England, desiring the company of some trusty Frenchman to deliver these things to him.

Francis has been appointed very shortly to go to him in England, and he has promised from time to time to communicate Hutchins' proceedings to their Lordships, advising that no steps be taken against him until he has commenced his enterprise, when they may both be arrested, and Francis put to gentle ward that the discovery may not seem to proceed from him.

Has also been told by Sir William Pickering, that having had certain letters delivered to him by a Scottish herald, to be conveyed to the French Court, he contrived to open them, and amongst others discovered one from the Master of Erskine to his wife, stating that when he last passed through England he had privily spoken with the Earl Bothwell, not mentioning the special matter, and requiring her to advertise him with all speed what the Scottish Queen's pleasure should be touching that mater. Refers to the preceding letter for particulars of his embassy. [Two pages. Indorsed by Cecil.]

----- June 4. Angers. Sir John Masone to the Marquis of Northampton. Has received his letter of the 31st May. The Constable, reckoning that his Lordship will reach Nantes about Thursday or Friday next week has arranged for his coming to Chateaubriand, the Constable's own house and seigniory, and has left this morning to prepare for his reception there; whither, the King, who arrived here on Wednesday, goes to-morrow.

Desires to be informed of the number and qualities of his suite, concerning which the harbingers inquire daily. His Lordship's lodging was appointed in this town with the rest of his train to the number of 100 beds. The Constable being desirous to feast M. St. André at Chateaubriand before his departure for England, hopes it may be agreeable to his Lordship. Touching the conduct of Senarpont on the frontiers, the Constable has therein written out of hand, seeming not well contented with the matter. M. de Chastillon goes in post to Picardy with 10 or 12 experienced captains to set an order upon the frontiers, and would have gone sooner but for his desire to see the Marquis here.

Thinks the cause of his going is the coming of the Emperor to the Low Countries. Horatio Farnese has been, contrary to his expectation, very well received by the Duke of Florence, and after good and friendly handling by the said Duke is departed safely and freely. [Two pages. Copy in Sir J. Masone's Letter-Book.]

--- June 4. Paris. The Marquis of Northampton to Sir John Masone. M. de Mandosse has informed him that, because of the preparations for his reception, the French King wills that in nowise should he arrive at Nantes before the 15th inst. This he regrets, and writes to let Masone understand the cause of his training upon the way. Tomorrow he intends to leave this, and to be at Orleans by Sunday night at the farthest. [Half a page. Copy in Sir J. Masone's Letter-Book.]

---- June 6. Plessis Macé. Henry II., King of France, to King Edward VI. Informing his Majesty of his election into the Order of St. Michael. [Broadside. Countersigned by De l' Aubespine. French.]

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beautiesandheadcanons · 4 years

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Today I just wanted to talk a little about a game I picked up over the holidays and finally got a chance to dive headfirst into: Horizon Zero Dawn.

It came in a bundle along with God of War (and The Last of Us, which I’m honestly not interested in in the slightest and have no idea what I’ll do with the game disc LOL) and while I did want to play it, God of War took precedence over it because of my experience with the series overall. This weekend (starting Friday, really) curiousity finally got the best of me and I loaded up the game and began to play.

And I then spent the remainder of the weekend playing through it until I finally finished it yesterday. Not a bad playtime considering the number of real hours I poured into the game. I didn’t do every little thing on the map, but I did complete all the offered side quests and errands (though I may have missed a few, as I’ve already discovered going back through in new game+ … I also didn’t touch the DLC just yet, purposefully keeping it back for the next go round) and I honestly feel that it was well worth the money and investment.

Playtime aside, the lore is incredible, and the story is what ultimately pulled me in. Yeah, shooting fire arrows at huge, hulking machines and mountain climbing here and there and everywhere is fun, but seeing Aloy’s journey from six months to nineteen years old and running the Proving and beyond is what motivated me to keep playing. For one because I wanted to explore this interesting world and for two because I wanted to know more and more about Aloy’s story and her real background.

I’ll keep this spoiler free, but I will say it’s really cool and refreshing to see a post-apocalyptic game that doesn’t involve guns as main weapons. Sure, games like Fallout (and presumably Metro and The Last of Us) are fun and engaging, but when put in perspective, they don’t make a whole lot of sense. I sometimes sit and wonder just who is manufacturing all of the bullets and guns and how they are effectively supplied throughout the wasteland even 200+ years since automated manufacturing was forcefully done away with via nuclear bomb. Immediately afterwards, sure, I can accept there was enough of a stockpile left to pillage and supply oneself with, but that long? I don’t think so. Instead, Horizon Zero Dawn goes back to traditional, old school weapons like spears and bows and arrows and it allows for a slightly more realistic take on a post-apocalypse set well after mankind’s downfall.

Of course, the whole story that was set in motion with Aloy’s birth is far deeper and meaningful than it initially appears to be, and joining her on both her personal quest to find out the truth and also defend what’s left of humanity is fairly soon revealed to be an intricately woven web of mystery that is slowly revealed over the course of the main questline. Again, I don’t want to give away any spoilers, but the journey she goes on, the people she meets and interacts with, and the places she ventures all in pursuit of more knowledge is amazingly captivating and it grabbed hold of me with a vengeance and wouldn’t let go until I finished the main story.

The only bit of criticism I will say is that the beginning moves rather slow, and I had actually played through the introduction/tutorial a while ago and stopped after that was done as I felt overwhelmed, both with story content and with new controls and playstyles. While it was necessary to both set up the story and to show the player how to use the focus and other aspects of combat, it just personally felt like too much information had been shoved into my brain and I had to take a break. Don’t get me wrong, I’m supremely happy that I came back and started playing, but they seem to throw a lot at you right in the beginning!

Overall, though, between the solid storytelling, the unique environments, and the diverse skills that cater to all different styles of play, Horizon Zero Dawn is the game I didn’t even know I needed, the unique post-apocalyptic game that gives a different look at how humans might rebuild a lost world. And despite any small flaws, it’s well worth the investment. If you have a PS4 and haven’t given it a whirl yet, I highly recommend taking a look. I don’t think you’ll regret it.

#horizon zero dawn #hzd #aloy #hzd aloy #horizon zero dawn aloy #aloy horizon #beauties and headcanons #elisabeths gaming corner

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fates-theysband · 4 years

Text

Chronophobia

Rating: T

Ship: Aeren Chapman/Tim Stoker (vaguely alluded to; this is more of a narrative oc profile)

Warnings: mentions of decapitation and vivisection, vaguely described gore, blood, head trauma, canon-typical thanatophobia triggers, more than canon-typical swearing (not in that order)

i literally am not capable of just writing a fic, it all has to be vaguely epistolary bs like “craigslist missed connection” and “basically a script for an episode of tma”. Jon’s dialogue is in bold, to make up for the fact that there’s not a single dialogue tag in this whole mess

"Statement of Avery Chapman, regarding the bizarre events preceding the death of their twin sibling Aeren Chapman. Statement taken direct from subject, twenty-third June two thousand and sixteen. Statement begins."

"Look, this isn't going to cast me in a great light to start off with, but I lied to get in the door. I mean, can you blame me? If I had let me in, and I’d heard the truth, I would've been like, 'We don't have time for pranksters, come back when you have an actual statement to give.' Because, I mean, come on. What I'm about to tell you sounds like bullshit. The truth is, I'm not Avery Chapman, and my statement has nothing to do with any events from before Aeren died. So, let me give you a more accurate version of what you just said."

"Statement of Aeren Chapman, regarding the bizarre events following their own untimely death. There, now it's on the record. Let's get into it.”

"My entire life, I could hear a ticking clock. Not literally. But I was always thinking about the time. How long would it take to do this? How much time until that? Will I be able to do everything I want or need before time runs out? Nobody really understood, of course. From the day I was old enough to even communicate that kind of feeling, all I ever heard was, 'Don't worry, you're young! You have all the time in the world!' And it was the same, right up until the end. I mean, guess that's not really fair to my folks. They tried to get me help, usually in the form of allergy meds that kind of had anti-anxiety properties in low lighting if you were really trying to see 'em. I've never been a cheap drunk and since my grandpappy on my mom’s side was, every psych I went to see was too scared of the Ghost of Addictions Past to give me anything that worked. So instead, I lived with the clock. And I got really good at pretending it wasn't there. Sometimes I could even enjoy the moment."

"That changed when I got older, of course. I'm from the US, if you couldn't tell from the...everything about me, and you probably can at least guess how it is over there. Go, go, go, until you drop dead if necessary, to appease the almighty money line. And unlike with school, with work you don't exactly get summers off. So that ticking clock came back full force. I remember, one time, my roommates and I were going to get carry-out and watch a movie, and I had work in the morning. One of my roommates, Jace, went out to pick up the food, and I guess he got stuck in traffic or something, because he didn't get back for an hour and all I could think was 'that's one less hour I have to actually relax before I have to get up and go back to work tomorrow', and I was on edge the entire rest of the night. Couldn't enjoy the movie, was short with Jace and Holly every time they tried to make conversation...just being a real irritable asshole."

"That was pretty close to when it happened, actually. Maybe a few weeks or so. I guess that would explain a lot. It doesn't matter what happened to me the night I died. All you really need to know is that it was violent, gruesome, and traumatic. For some reason, it didn't even register to me that I was dying until I realized I could hear the ticking, for real this time. With every single step it got louder and louder, matching pace with my feet staggering down the pavement as my body was basically falling apart below me, until I finally rounded a corner and collapsed. And then the ticking stopped, and I looked up."

"I could see a skeleton sitting in front of me, but...not the way a corpse would be sitting. Not the way I was sitting. They were sitting criss-cross applesauce, and for how old and dusty the bones looked I was shocked to see that they were dressed pretty young for, you know, a skeleton. Big skirt, peace sign shirt, hippie headband, that kind of thing. Could've died in the seventies, could have died last year. I didn't get to really figure that out before they motioned to the things laid out in front of them. Game tokens. Not an exhaustive amount of them, but I could see a chess piece, a die, and a deck of cards. All bone, because apparently every single psychopomp’s a corny bastard. I tried to decline. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I was sick of the clock and I couldn't see an upside to going back to it. They laughed at me. Not out loud, but they made the motions. Then they urged me to pick a token again. Asshole."

"By the way, turns out Death knows Yahtzee. I wouldn't say I expected to win. I wasn't even sure I hoped to win. All I wanted was an end to the not knowing. I figured something out that night, Archivist. It’s not death humans are afraid of, it’s uncertainty. If we knew for sure exactly what happened after we died, I don’t think anyone would be afraid to die.”

“Guess this goes without saying, but I won. Didn’t even cheat, just got a few really good rolls. I didn’t really know what to expect; I figured my insides would knit themselves back together and I’d rejoin the world of the living instead of playing Yahtzee with a hippie skeleton in a dark alley on a street that was normally a hell of a lot busier. That I’d go back to the miserable job and the crappy apartment and the ticking clock. But that isn’t what happened. If it was I would’ve taken this whole experience to my permanent grave. I mean, someone’s insides got knitted back together that night. But they weren’t mine. I watched the flesh fall off my bones as the skeleton in the long skirt became more and more alive, until a flesh-and-blood girl who couldn’t have been older than me stood up and left the alley. I think she said something to me as she was leaving. I want to say it was ‘forgive me’, but I’m thinking it was ‘better you than me’. For some reason I wasn’t scared or sad or anything but relieved. It sounds fucked up, I know, but have you ever lived a life where you had nothing to look forward to? At least with this I could see a way out.”

“I won’t bore you describing the interim. You look like a smart guy, you’re probably familiar with what the Grim Reaper does. What matters is how I got all the meat back. And why I’m wearing this massive coat and knit cap in June.” “You see, most people in the few years I did this were partial to the chance games, or low-skill board games. Roulette was a big one. So was blackjack. Someone got smart and tried Candyland once. But only one person ever picked chess.”

“He was maybe mid-thirties. Wasn’t really sure what had happened to him but he was covered in blood and terrified. I’d say ‘scared to death’ but that seems gauche. I don’t understand chess beyond the basic object of the game and what the different pieces can do, but even I could tell this guy was either terrible at chess or not in the right mental place to be making strategic decisions in a game for his life. Or both. Both is always an option."

“I could have wiped the floor with him, even with my lack of skill. He pretty much put his king in check by himself, all I did was avoid his clumsy attempts to capture my pieces. Here’s where you probably think I’m about to say ‘this is where I got sloppy’ or some shit like that. No. I knew exactly what I was doing and I meant to do it.”

“I’d say it was agonizingly long, but really, any amount of time is agonizingly long when the action is ‘playing chess in complete silence under a bridge somewhere in London’. But after the most frustrating game of my life, my clueless savior checkmated me. I told him I was sorry as I left. I don't know if he heard me over the screaming."

"Just like that, it was over. Quick trip to a library told me it had been about three years since I won the most important game of Yahtzee ever, and that same quick trip found me an extended family member in the area who didn't ask too many questions. Weird, really. Always thought my dad was an only child. But that's beside the point. Since becoming flesh again a few months ago, I haven't heard the ticking clock, metaphorically or literally. I suffered the agony of death and the indignity of reaping, and came out the same as I've ever been.”

“Or so I thought. Here’s the thing: whatever chose me that night didn’t like that ending for me. The dying are supposed to try to cheat Death. It’s in their nature. If they win by successfully cheating, more power to them. But Death is impartial. Death isn’t supposed to cheat. And Death certainly isn’t supposed to get clever and throw the game. Which brings me to the main reason I'm here, I guess. Give me a moment."

[There is a sound of a heavy coat hitting the floor]

"I normally don't wear tank tops, but in this case it's kind of important that I show as much as I can. Check this out."

[There is a sound of something unzipping]

"They unzip into shorts. Best sixteen pounds I ever spent. Would've just worn shorts, but with how big this coat is I would've looked like a flasher. And now, off with the hat. Don't freak out."

"Good god, what happened to you!?"

"I literally JUST said not to freak out, dude. Impressive you managed to keep it together up until the bleeding head wound though. A lesser man might have said that when he saw the sutures."

"None of this stuff actually happened to me, of course. Not in the sense that I was ever actually physically vivisected or beheaded or whacked in the head hard enough to crack my skull. These just happen to me. I wake up with them, for the most part. And...well, I'll spare you the gruesome stuff, but they're not stitched up neatly when I get them. Thank god Cousin Jesse's a passable seamstress, because hospitals tend to lose their shit when you bring in a patient who's still up walking around with several fatal wounds and no detectable pulse. Not something I want to deal with twice."

"So that's the whole story, I guess. I broke the rules, and now I'm suffering the consequences. The wounds go away, after a while. At first I thought it was mercy, but now I know it's because if some of them didn't disappear there eventually wouldn't be enough left of me to keep punishing. And, I'm not exactly an expert, but I think I'm supposed to suffer the damage from every single gruesome, unimaginably painful death that's ever happened to a human being before I'll be free. That's a lot of deaths. Good thing I have all the time in the world, I guess."

"Statement ends."

“Awesome. Is that all you need from me?”

“I believe so.”

“Great. Let me just get all my coverups back on...”

“Don’t forget your...trouser legs.”

“Of course not.”

[There is a sound of something zipping.]

“Uh, if I don’t see him on my way out, can you tell that hot guy with the undercut who showed me the way to your office that I’m sorry I ran into him? I turned the corner too fast and damn near hip-checked the poor guy into a wall. Not a great first impression.”

“I suppose so.”

“Thanks a bunch. I’d ask you to give him my number, too, buuuut right now I only have a home phone. Oh well. Later, skater.”

[Click.]

#self insert #self insert fic #questionable writing tag #i: aeren chapman #r: all in

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petitepistol · 4 years

Text

headcanon;but it is very messy

oh god strap in because this is going to be 3k words worth of rambling under the cut which you don't actually have to read since i posted it at 5am so it probably does not make much sense!! also I have only just recently accepted that my elena does not follow compilation timeline to the letter because I fucking hate the fact that before crisis placed her age at being a high school student almost immediately preceding the start of the original game and I always saw elena as being at least aerith's age by the time she became a turk so please bear with me as my elena uses a floating timeline to prevent her from being...like a literal teenager for original game fuck that noise they had cissnei be the uwu fifteen-year-old turk and elena gets to be her own character when im writing her so compilation can fuck right off

so first off her dad is a military man, and that entire side of his family? kind of just defaulted into the military for generations. well before shinra at least, the old shit. I'm constantly flabbergasted by the idea that shinra is the dominant military force on the planet when as little as forty years before game them were a fledgling company, and I'm fascinated by what kind of insane shit must have gone down to facilitate shinra going from defense contractor/power company to defacto global superpower, and what they superseded when that happened. so yeah her dad is military, and even after he was put out to pasture he still wound up teaching at a prestigious shinra sponsored academy in junon and both of his daughters attended.

her mom was upper middle class and driven as hell, had a ballet career which got cut short due to injury in her late teens. then she wound up going into nursing by her early twenties and spent some time working in deepground when it was still a run of the mill army hospital where she met elena's father who was...voluntarily a candidate for some biotech stuff that shinra was doing back when shinra was still a defense contractor, go figure he was one of many early examples of mako conditioning. they didn't get along at first but did wind up marrying but never actually settling down because of the nature of his career. she retired from nursing but did medical coding part-time.

elena's sister was born in deepground (canonically from the 'midgar slums' but deepground is pretty fucking close and it makes sense to the era and background worldbuilding), and things went as smoothly as possible at this point in time. elena herself was born in icicle because lol military stationed there (elena being an icicle native was also a very popular piece of fanon in the pre-compilation era and I feel like it may have had some supporting evidence in something like kaitai shinsho but I never really managed to cross-reference that so probably not true and just a gut feeling), and by then things were getting...fishy. details being covered up about the full extent of the side-effects of mako conditioning and rumors that shinra had an egregious amount of influence over the military at large. these things all turned out to be true, but elena's father kept his head down and did his duty because he was a good soldier. he was also in wutai on and off during this, before the situation over there fully hit the fan, so he had more pressing matters to worry about.

anyway, elena was born in icicle but she and her mother and sister weren't there for more than a year or so before it was back at it again in midgar because dad was being put on some kind of assignment that had him closely working with shinra. the general implication of this is he was doing legwork for the implementation of SOLDIER in a few years, but what that means can vary by interaction from being paperwork to mk ultra style endurance testing to teaching an adolescent jenova project specimen how to integrate into military procedure before they drop him in wutai which is slated to become an all-out conflagration very shortly. it all depends but the point is it is sticky and worsened significantly when his wife is killed in a car accident. if this seems familiar it is because I firmly believe elena is the aya brea of ffvii and parasite eve featured similar background story. I'm borrowing deal with it.

by this point, elena is around eight and in school but elena is just barely four and in the vehicle when it happens. mom is killed instantly, elena survives but barely fares better. she's in intensive care for a while and there is a period where they don't even know if she is going to be brain dead or just have permanent brain damage in the first few days. her sister is basically staying at a school friend's house for like...way more than a fortnight while this got sorted out because their dad still actually has orders to carry out, even if he isn't on a battlefield. at one point on of his higher-ups implies that it could be arranged to transfer elena from the civilian hospital to the recently renovated deepground and he turns it down and feels like shit for it because yeah, deepground probably would mean a better chance at his youngest daughters survival because of that cutting edge shinra biotech, but at what cost? he knows well enough now something is wrong and justifies his willingness to let fate take its course with elena by focusing on the fact that her sister is still alive and well and he needs to keep his head down for his older daughter because she needed him too, even though they barely saw each other during the crux of this.

so lo and behold elena does recover and goes through the icky sticky of physical therapy and does just fine. great, right? well yes but the family dynamic is stupidly fucked up. dad has done either really good or really bad on his assignment, and gets put out to pasture in junon to teach at a military academy that is now nearly entirely funded by shinra (yeah so in before crisis it is all but implicit that academy is in midgar but fuck that junon is the seat of military power it would be near there if anything). this is great because it keeps him in work and both of his daughters will benefit. which they do. elena's sister is an ideal student, and the roughness of losing her mother happened at a sensitive period but a period where she was old enough to understand what was going on. she was capable of being a little trooper through all of it, but the cost of it was not being able to emotionally process the loss of her mother and the fact that her little sister was still alive when mom was not. the seeds of discord are sown there and that will be an ongoing thing throughout their childhood and into adulthood. they don't hate each other, but the relationship is fraught with tension and it is far from a healthy dynamic, especially since their father has pulled back almost entirely from fatherhood. he has no idea what he is doing without his late wife, and can't organically interact with his daughters so he defaults to being an instructor. both of them flourish despite this, but it is not a good family dynamic.

paint over this family drama with the fact that wutai is now well and truly happening. the military is effectively controlled by shinra and very very soon the propaganda blitz surrounding SOLDIER is going to push that over the edge and shinra will be accepted on a public and official level as being the army. the slogans are changing and going from an old fashioned sense of unity to focusing on becoming top class and singularly extraordinary. there is an emphasis on joining to be great rather than joining for the greater good. the recruitment plays into the deeply seated neurosis of adolescence for a reason because the younger some kid joins up the more malleable they are to both the shinra rhetoric and the by now very refined mako enhancement process that costs so much but nets such spectacular gains. in fact, it costs far too much to ever justify wasting that kind of money on doing it to women. so yeah it is blog canon that women in the shinra army is not a thing that is encouraged and like hell would they ever be in SOLDIER. the company culture is an old boys club steeped in misogyny and the only reason scarlet succeeded is because she took that and marinated in it and played the game very well. dirge era deepground operatives are little more than a consequence of years of unethical human experimentation left to rot in a basement. we don't really see women in actual military positions in the original game. sexism is alive and well and it serves my characterization of elena and her development.

so yeah it is a time of paradigms shifting and reforming very rapidly. elena's sister takes to this with aplomb, she is a perfect cadet and in elena's eyes a perfect daughter. someone easier to idolize than the SOLDIERs on the glossy recruitment posters and more available than their emotionally distant father. she is pristine and by extension beloved, things elena wants to be as well. elena is too young to realize her sister doesn't have any better of a relationship with their father than she does, but who knows if that would change anything. she emulates her ideal sister but remains a half step behind, which makes perfect sense because elena is four years younger. from a critical perspective that half step is a very close gap because even if elena doesn't realize it, she is just as prodigious as her sister is. the difference is while her sister can follow orders to the letter, elena has the makings of a maverick. not a positive thing in the strict environment of a military academy, no matter how high her scores are. idealization goes hand and hand with a quiet resentment, the latter of which her sister has also harbored towards her ever since their later mother died and elena did not.

that simmering toxicity stays at a low boil until her sister graduates. at the top of the class, even she could not become anything. or at least, to elena it looks that way, as she watches her sister back her things for midgar where she will start as a trainee for an administrative/auditing position for the shinra electric power company. elena does not know what a turk is at this point, even if her father does. he seems as impassive as ever, even if that is not the case and in actuality he is struggling to accept the reality that his oldest daughter is far too smart for his own good and is entering a profession no one would ever want for their child. despite his distance and his lack of connection and all of his failings as a father he does love his children and that will eat away at him until he dies no doubt. but all elena sees is her shining example of an older sister being doomed to desk work. when gun leaves (because she becomes gun the moment she is added to the payroll) the real constant of elena's childhood also leaves. and during adolescence, that is hard for anyone. more so when you realize no matter how sharp your skills are your future is off the chopping block and there is no path for you to take with them.

elena goes from being a prodigy prone to pesky critical thinking to a prodigy with a chip on her shoulder. her technical marks don't plummet, in fact, quite the opposite. she picks up a secondary battle specialty, close-quarters combat, which will set her apart from her sister. she flourishes with equal parts precision and aggression, despite her small size. the academic commendations feel entirely hollow to her though, and in the way teenagers tend to do she convinces herself she is not much more than nothing. the memory of her sister becomes tarnished with the bitterness of her negative self-image. her instructors must hate her for her failures, she tells herself with false objectivity. her instructors include her actual father, who is nearly clueless aside from a vague feeling in the pit of his stomach and he doesn't know if that is due to his oldest daughter going into wetworks or the fact his younger daughter is shattering academic record after record with the sheer force of what he assumes to be ennui driven spite.

at least he is clueless until in the spring just after she turns fifteen she files for early certification to leave academy, just like every other boy in her year as well as every other boy on the continent and beyond. they do it to catch the recruitment push and join the army soon enough to have a shot at making SOLDIER before they age out. but elena can't do that and he knows it and braces himself to have that conversation with her, calling her into his office where she keeps her stance formal until he tells her to be as ease and even in the chair across from his desk her posture is tense. spine straight, eyes ahead. he begins what he thinks is going to be the "you know you can't join SOLDIER" conversation but she cuts him off in what he thinks is a somewhat uncharacteristic display, but to her is just another example of how disgraceful her conduct is and how she needs to get out of academy before brings the value of the whole institution down. she tells him this, she tells him she is aware of her shortcomings and the fact she has no future in a military career and her intention is to go to midgar and learn how to be a civilian on her own terms. he signs off on it because none of her bullet points are actually wrong.

midgar is a city of industry and a city of vice and she hasn't been there since she was a child. it is good to her and it is bad to her, as she unlearns years of quasi-military discipline and figures out how to be her own person. she still sometimes wears the academy uniform because old habits die hard and it is a durable thing. she has a one-room apartment in the slums and a job tending bar in wall market. the hours are early evening to after the last train ends and her circadian rhythm adjusts from 4am wakeups and beds made with hospital corners to the distorted clock that comes from living under a plate with no natural sunlight. there are just as many fights and skirmishes to be had in midgar but none of them are like the training exercises at academy. each one is a beautiful short-lived shrine, sometimes they are fun and on her terms, and other times they are fraught and meant for survival. elena relishes them all as a skillset she once thought was a dead-end turns out to be valuable once more. the major negative point is her sister.

gun is in midgar and wears a sleek black suit along with many other people in sleek black suits. elena hears the term 'turk' for the first time. whether they are urban legends or hired killers or pencil pushers who do double duty waterboarding enemies of a power company turned judge and jury doesn't matter. what matters is the deadness she can see in gun's green eyes when she drops by the bar before closing, oftentimes with equally dead-eyed coworkers. those confrontations are never pleasant, they are a powderkeg. elena would like to reach out to her sister, chase away the exhausted look in her face the way she can with other patrons, but the sentiment gets stuck in her throat and they just snipe at each other. gun is a terrible adult and so are all of her colleagues and they are trying their best to neutralize a growing terrorist threat and they are failing. when they come around in the low light of the bar illuminates the stark futility of everything after midnight.

elena does not know exactly what is going on at the highest level of intrigue but she has a good guess. shinra is shitting the bed, and that includes the turks and SOLDIER, which seems to her to be in the middle of a massive coverup as their public-facing 1sts disappear one after another. she wants no part of it and her agenda switches from mastering the nuances of being a civilian to finding sustainability and meaning outside of shinra as the cracks in the facade split ever wider. when the sector six plate is effectively destroyed, it takes the bar she worked at with it and elena decides it is time to get the hell out of midgar.

her years in wall market set her up with some interesting connections and the owner of a small weapons shop (who she might have married for tax purposes but that isn't fleshed out) sets her up with a distinguished older gentleman who is a complete asshole and happens to run guns all across the continent. despite his immaculate coiffure he is not a people person and requires someone who is both qualified to demonstrate his product and more pleasant to deal with than him, because the market is hot right now. shinra has never had much interest in dealing with flyover country. sure they build reactors in some of the backwaters, but not all of them. and no reactor meant no need for shinra to spend the money on protecting hick villages from increased monster presence. the planet is dying and the monsters are restless in the same way wildlife gets in the real world. the people in those tiny towns do their best to defend their homes and livelihood and that means purchasing weaponry, mostly old stock from competitors that shinra has long since crushed or acquired. shinra lets this happen because it is not a threat to them.

so, for a few years, elena is a pretty face with a bang and it is almost scarlettian. she never comes close to the sex appeal of the actual weapons development director of shinra, but it is enough to help move merchandise. most of the buyers are just people trying to survive in the middle of nowhere, but not always. sometimes they are rougher than that, but the money is good enough that she doesn't care about that, or the fact the man who employed her hates her guts and doesn't care much whether she lives or dies. it is a thrilling rush and it is outside of shinra and more than ever does she want to put as much distance as possible between shinra and herself. because her sister is dead according to a notification that tseng of the turks had been cordial enough to send to her father, news that he passed on in a voicemail to elena with a hollow tone. maybe he was trying to reconnect with her because she was now all he had left in the way of family. maybe he just had the same sense of duty as always. she never calls back to ask.

midgar calls her back though. one day her employer informs her with a vindictive grin that he has sold the business part and parcel and that includes her as an employee. acquired by shinra. the reason, ironically, is scarlet, whom she has been doing a two-bit impersonation of. scarlet is a forward thinker but that doesn't mean she can't be swayed by a stockpile of vintage firearms, and with the viciousness required of her position she can throw weight around and get her hands on anything. the weapons are what she wanted and elena knows this and rejects the notion that she will become apart of the shinra payroll because of this little merger. this is proven wrong in short order as her assets are frozen systematically because the turks are hard up for people. they know her. they knew her sister and they know her, even if they haven't kept tabs on her. as soon as the papers cross his desk tseng seizes the opportunity.

the interview with hr to place elena is a mere formality. there is no other place for her there but in the turks. elena, for all her audacity, accepts this and plasters on a professional veneer. the game begins and the world ends.

#ooc #headcanon #somebody sent me a very broad development ask and i wrote several thousand words in the middle of the night #holy shit im sorry for the wall of text someday i will clean this up i swear #some of this has been touched on in existing headcanon posts but not as a whole #as a whole it is...a lot to take in and whoever reads this has my condolences

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