#countes mathilde

[chieftyphoonchaos]

Where are we going Mathilde….Matera in Italy ?

No, dear ….James is standing there in an ambush to shoot you, he still hasn't accepted our engagement. So I told my parents we were going to Italy….

And we are not going to Italy….Lucky you got the "Schining",which warned you

You also have the Schining dear, you should use them more.

Anyway, we're not going to let those 2 ruin our engagement trips. Besides, I used to go to Matera every year with my mother, I've seen that city a bit tired, honestly….That's why we're going to another beautiful and sunny country and we're starting in the capital, where I've only been once

That's why I gave our original hotel tickets in Matera to my best friend and her young family, so my parents will definitely have company there

and so, in Matera, Italy

Caramia Mr. Bond and Mrs. Swann. Your daughter was kind enough to give us her tickets for the hotel here

Where is our daughter herself with her fiancé?

We're sorry, Mr. Bond, but we're not allowed to tell you that, she explicitly said that if we wanted her tickets for this holiday

Moreover, we are also very good friends with her fiancé Safin and we were invited to their wedding. So you can't shoot him. So just accept their engagement

But we will keep you good company, Mr. Bond and Mrs. Swann, and have a nice holiday together… We promised her that

Caramia, We have all the time in the world darling ❤️❤️

Meanwhile, somewhere much further south in Europe

Can we start a family as soon as possible Mathilde, Our friends Morticia and Gomez Addams already have a daughter together

Please be patient until after our wedding next year when we will start our family and I want at least 4 children with you

Do not forget the words of your father-in-law

"We Have Al The Time Of The World"

I love you ❤️

I love you too❤️

Sunny greetings from Athens, the capital of Greece where Count Lyutsifer and Countess Mathilde are on their engagement holiday

Lyutsifer en Mathilde ❤️❤️

[heromonty]

The newest Goth member aged up into a toddler this round and…

Oh. Well.

Strangetown Goal Completed: Max Evil Witch

Onto something slightly depressing, Cassandra hasn’t been doing too well since the whole Don and Dina situation. She needed some release. And who better than her friend who’s in love with her. What? You think she didn’t know? She’s not an idiot.

Unfortunately for Darren, while he was looking for a relationship, Cassie was looking for a quick and easy, no strings attached booty call. Why she thought she would get that with someone who has an unrequited love her, I don’t know. Their friendship is bit strained now as I’m sure you can imagine.

And finally, Belladonna is no longer the newest Goth in town. That title belongs to Mathilde for now.

[archduchessofnowhere]

Who from the Wittelsbach siblings do you think had the happiest marriage and who do you think had the unhappiest marriage, in your opinion?

I think Karl Theodor & Maria Josepha had the most happy marriage, while the least happy marriage was a tie between Maria Sophie & Francesco and Mathilde Ludovika & Louis.

Hello! Sorry for the wait. Although I can’t help but find the seventeen years age gap between Karl Theodor and Marie José icky, it does seem they were happy together. Out of all the siblings they seem to have had the most functional marriage for sure. Karl Theodor also had a good marriage with his first wife Sophie, though it was sadly a short one.

Helene and Louis both married for love to people beneath their status, though I can’t really say for sure how happy their marriages actually were. In Helene’s case simply because I haven’t found any sources that describe how her relationship with her husband Maximilian was, but given how deeply affected she was by his untimely death, I think it’s safe to assume it was a happy union.

In Louis’ case, we know that Elisabeth once told her lady-in-waiting that “It is a good thing that Henriette is his wife, for anybody else would long since have left him, and he is happy with her.” Valerie also wrote in her diary in 1884 that “Good Aunt Henriette is here and will stay until Saturday... When the attacking Uncle Louis isn’t around, Aunt is much more pleasant.” It seems that as he grew older Louis developed an erratic personality and was fit to burst of anger out of nowhere, which likely troubled his relationship with his family. I always trash Marie Larisch’s memoirs for being so unreliable, but I actually believe there is truth is this anecdote she recalls of going with her parents to the Opera in Vienna as a teenager:

during the ent’racte I whispered to papa that I should like something to eat. But I was not prepared for the wrath which followed this simple request. “Another word and I will box your ears,” he hissed. “How dare you be hungry at the Opera! And if you are, listen to the music and feed on its beauty.” I tried to follow his advice, but I felt really sinking, and although I adored the Opera, I was very glad to get back to Schönbrunn and supper.

I only can hope that these lapses in his personality didn’t occure too often.

My unpopular opinion is that I don’t think Marie and Francesco’s marriage was as miserable as it’s often assumed. While she did have a bad start with her husband, it seems that from 1868 (the year of their “reapprochment” aka when they started to sleep together regularly) onwards they had a good relationship. I just haven’t come across anything that really supports they didn’t get along in their old age. The only thing I’ve seen used as evidence of them being in “bad terms” is that Marie traveled alone often but so did Elisabeth, and no one argues that she and FJ hated each other because of that. Also Francesco II’s health was bad since the 1880s, so it’s not that weird that he couldn’t accompany his wife in her trips anymore (since he did travel with her to England in the 1870s).

Mathilde and Luigi were the most disfunctional marriage hands down, they had problems from the very beginning and their relationship only got worse as the years went by. They had been informaly engaged since Marie’s own marriage, and ok at the time it seem like a good idea to marry both sisters to the first and second in line of succession princes of a Catholic kingdom. But frankly they should’ve call it off after the Bourbons were deposed because the marriage promised no economic security to Mathilde, and even less personal happiness. Luigi got publicly drunk constantly, was unfaithful, and completely broke. On her older age Mathilde lived separated from her husband and after his death she had to depend on Elisabeth for support.

That being said, my answer to whom I think had the worst marriage is always going to be Sophie and Ferdinand d’Alençon, mainly because he had her locked up in a mental institution for months after she tried to divorce him. Which to me tops literally any other bad thing that anyone else on this post ever did to their spouse. But at the time everyone saw it as the right thing to do to “save” Sophie from herself, which is just sad.

Thank you for your question!

[yourdailyqueer]

do you have any posts about lesbians that were alive in the 1800s, I’m interested in that era and have been looking for some <3

Those actually labelled as Lesbian (I also have some bisexuals and *trans people from that era as well if interested):

I'm not counting anyone born after 1880 as they most likely didn't get well known in that era etc.

After 1800

Emma Stebbins - Born 1815

Charlotte Cushman - Born 1816

Rosalie Sully and Anne Hampton Brewster - born 1818

Matilda Hay - Born 1820

Rosa Bonheur - Born 1822

Adelaide Anne Procter - Born 1825

Emily Blackwell - Born 1826

Louisa Baring - Born 1827

Emily Dickinson and Harriet Hosmer - Born 1830

Felicita Vestvali and Amelia Edwards - Born 1831

Margaret Macpherson Grant - Born 1834

Octavia Hill - Born 1838

Emma Crow - Born 1839

Sophia Jex-Blake - Born 1840

Maria Louise Pool and Ella Wesner - Born 1841

Maria Konopnicka - 1842

Anna Yevreinova and Sarah Bernhardt - Born 1844

Annie Hindle - Born 1845

Rose Cleveland - Born 1846

Josie Mansfield - Born 1847

Edwina Kruse - Born 1848

Marie Fillunger - Born 1850

Eugenie Schumann - Born 1851

Sophie Elkan, Isa Asp and Louise Abbéma - Born 1853

Mary Garrett - Born 1854

Palmire Dumont - Born 1855

Louise Catherine Breslau, Anna Elizabeth Klumpke and Elisabeth Marbury - Born 1856

Ika Freudenberg, Lilian Welsh, Selma Lagerlöf, Eleonora Duse and Ethel Smyth - Born 1858

Lucy Elmina Anthony, Margaret Todd and Elsie de Wolfe - Born 1859

Rachilde and Jane Addams - Born 1860

Edith Watson, Vida Dutton Scudder, Valborg Olander and Maria Dulębianka - Born 1861

Loie Fuller - Born 1862

Madeleine Zillhardt, Hélène van Zuylen and Mathilde de Morny - Born 1863

Vesta Tilley and Johanna Elberskirchen - Born 1864

Sophia Goudstikker and Winnaretta Singer - Born 1865

Lydia Zinovieva-Annibal - Born 1866

Władysława Habicht, Polyxena Solovyova and Evelina Haverfield - Born 1867

Lida Heymann and Edith Lake Wilkinson - Born 1868 

Caroline Spurgeon, Edith Craig, Emma Willits, Flora Murray - Born 1869

Ethel Richardson, Agnes Elisabeth Overbeck, Gabrielle Bloch and Princess Vera Gedroits - Born 1870

Cicely Hamilton, Violet Gordon-Woodhouse, Elizabeth Fisher Read, Celia Wray, Maude Adams - Born 1872

Louisa Garrett Anderson, Sara Josephine Baker, Maud Allan - Born 1873

Lilian Barker, Pepi Litman, Mary Dewson, Toupie Lowther, Romaine Brooks, Gertrude Stein, Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven, Rachel Barrett and Amy Lowell - Born 1874

Élisabeth de Gramont - Born 1875

Alfhild Tamm, Sibilla Aleramo and Natalie Clifford Barney - Born 1876

Virginia Gildersleeve, Renée Vivien and Alice B. Toklas - Born 1877

Wanda Landowska and Alla Nazimova - Born 1879

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter nine

summary: you catch up with an old friend and luca makes you dinner.

warnings: fluff, eventual angst not use of y/n, conversations about divorce, slow burn, baby, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the storyline of the bear.

word count: 3.3k

listen to: the official 'burn your life down' playlist (songs mentioned in chapter are in this playlist!)

a/n: i've always pictured mathilde & jesper as the chalamet siblings AND astrid is in fact played by rina sawayama i don't make the rules (i do). thank you for all comments, reblogs, and screaming at me because we are all obsessed. seriously, it's an honor and i'm just so excited that you all are just as excited as me. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.

chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten

You spend your first Sunday afternoon without Luca, for the first time in a few weeks, deep cleaning your home. Between your new relationship and your work at the restaurant, you’d found yourself falling behind on chores. But he’d worked the late shift last night, filling in for a cook who called out, which is how you’d ended up with a night and morning of divine alone time. 

With your headphones on, it’s easy to multitask, simultaneously folding clothes while you catch up with your friend, formerly-sister-in-law, over the phone. 

“Anyways, work’s kept me so damn busy that I’ve barely had a moment in my own home but… we are all doing quite alright over here,” she explains, after detailing her travels all across Europe. 

Being a buyer for Nordstrom UK keeps her on the road, or rather, in the sky, at a frequent rate. 

“Well I’m glad you called. It’s good to hear from you. And It’s really good to catch up, Astrid,” you say, smiling to yourself as you finish folding a pile of t-shirts. 

“Well, just because you and Joe didn’t work out doesn’t change anything. You’re still my sister,” she replies, with a small laugh. “We’re family, regardless of the fact that he couldn’t keep a good thing around.”

“Astrid! You know it wasn’t like that,” you protest, though you know it’s all in jest.

“I know,” she sighs, and you can practically hear her rolling her eyes from all the way to England. “Selfishly, I’m just feeling a bit contrary about it, is all. But enough about me. How are you? How’s everything at the restaurant?”

“It’s been great. I… can’t believe that I have a restaurant,” you answer as you shake your head in disbelief.

“God, I’ve gotta get out there soon. I haven’t stopped thinking about that lumache from my last visit – what was it – last November? Yeah, it’s been too long,” Astrid recalls lightheartedly. 

“Yeah, it really has. Just let me know. You know I’m always up for hosting you,” you agree, hopeful that she’ll come visit soon. 

“Besides work, what else’s new? And don’t tell me you’re still just burying yourself in the restaurant because I don’t want to hear it,” she asks, a curious tone in her voice as she segways from work to 

“Well um…” you trail off, treading lightly over the delicate subject. 

The thing you want to tell her about is Luca, because he is what’s new in your life. His presence in your life is evident – it’s in the pair of sweatpants he tossed in with your laundry that you’re folding now, the spare toothbrush you ‘lent’ him that sits right next to yours, and the way that thinking of him makes your heart race. 

You don’t want to lie to her… but you’re also not sure what the etiquette is either. 

It’s not like this is included in the divorcee handbook you never got in the first place. 

“I’m… sort of seeing someone,” you admit, hesitantly. 

“What?!” she gasps, instantly giddy with excitement. “Yeah, we uh…” you hesitate, testing the waters since she seems excited about it. “We’ve been dating for about a month now, maybe.”

“Shut up! That’s mega! How’d you meet? Tell me everything,” she gushes. 

“Well, he actually came into the restaurant. Kind of became a regular and uh…” you explain, and she can hear the smile in your voice as you do. “He’s great. You’ll love this story, actually. He’s also a chef – a pastry chef. One night after coming in, he left a box of croissants for my staff and a handwritten note inviting me to come to the restaurant he works at. It was very….”

“Romantic. Wow…” Astrid adds, too excited for you as she listens. “And a bold move. Knows what he wants. I like him already.”

“Yeah, he’s… he’s really incredible. I swear. He has the patience of a saint, especially as I’ve uh… you know, I’ve been trying to figure this whole… dating after you end your marriage kinda thing,” you continue, chuckling in response to the awkwardness of it all. 

“We were friends actually, for a while. Just friends, which, I know you’ll yell at me about when you see what he looks like. But I think it was good for us, for me, really – to be friends first.”

“Well, now you have to send me a picture,” she requests, even more intrigued as you fiddle with your phone, pulling up a photo you took of Luca the other day. 

You wait a beat. Then another, seeing that the photo has been delivered as Astrid shrieks in your ear. 

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me, mate?!” she practically screams. 

“I know,” you squeal. 

“You are absolutely unbelievable,” she shakes her head, staring at the gorgeous blonde on her screen. “How did you not jump right into bed?!”

“Trust me,” you reply, the room suddenly feeling 5 degrees hotter. “After we agreed to start seeing each other, we didn’t wait very long.”

”Sounds like you have a boyfriend,” Astrid comments smugly, as she waits for your reaction. You have expect yourself to panic, but you don’t as you the words tumble out of your mouth. 

“I… it does sound that way, doesn’t it?” you ask her, your voice soft as you reply. 

“Absolutely, my darling,” Astrid replies, before changing the subject. “Okay, so how’s the sex?!”

“Astrid!” you protest with a laugh. “Do you really want to-?”

“Of fucking bloody course I do! Now spill!” she demands. 

You pause, grinning as your cheeks blush. 

“It’s fucking incredible,” you admit, eliciting a giggle from your friend. 

“Shit, babe,” she sighs, contently. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” you say back, because you’re pretty damn happy too. “Astrid, will you keep this between us? It’s just that it’s all still so new and….” 

You pause. 

“I just don’t want Joe to hear it from anyone but me.” 

“Of course,” she replies, compassionately, in deep understanding.

“What else are sisters for?”

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

You showed up to Luca’s flat uncertain of what to expect, but then he’d pulled you into his home and kissed you like you’d been on his mind all day – and in his defense, you really had. 

“Why don’t you come over Sunday night, then? Let me cook you dinner for a change,” he had suggested as you were figuring out your schedules for the week. 

“You sure you’ll be up for that after working overtime this week?” you’d asked in response. 

“I’ll be alright, love,” he’d answered, like he had unlimited energy when it came to you. 

And even though you’d asked him if you should bring dessert – only to be met with a cheeky comment about you being dessert – you showed up anyway with a matcha basque cheesecake in hand and a deli container filled with a yuzu scented whipped cream to top it with. 

So this is how you find yourself perched on top of Luca’s kitchen island countertop, after having watched his exceptional knife skills for the last thirty. You spend your evening snacking on sliced sourdough bread you’re not sure how he had the time to make, and sip on your glass of red wine while watching him prepare a coq au vin. You swear you’ve got hearts in your eyes when you look at him, watching his muscular, inked forearms flex with how he grips his chef’s knife. As music plays softly in the background, a playlist you can only imagine is the entirety of Luca’s music library put on shuffle, you busy yourself, refilling your wine glass for your second glass of the night. 

“Want another, babe?” you ask him, noticing that he’s on his way to empty as well. 

“Sure. Thank you, my love,” he replies, scooping a handful of chopped carrots up from his cutting board with a bench scraper, depositing them into a small bowl. You watch as Luca picks up his glass of wine and makes his way over to you. 

He hands you the glass, then places a gentle kiss against your lips, a smile spreading across his lips. Luca takes a few steps away so that you can fill his glass again, making a few swift movements to turn the heat down on the gas burner. 

“How was your day?” he asks, while still moving around his kitchen. 

You fill him in on your productive day of chores and catching up with an old friend while Luca listens, busy with removing the pieces of chicken out from the heavy, enameled, cast-iron pot and onto a plate. By the time Luca’s added hot oil to the pot, followed by the chopped carrots and peeled, halved cipollini onions, you’ve caught him up on the long version of Jesper’s latest love-life updates, since he and Claudio have now decided to make it official. 

“So you used to make this with your mom?” you ask curiously, changing the subject as you watch Luca scrape the browned bits off the bottom of the pot. 

He nods in response, stealing a glance your way, his lips turned up into a half smile. 

“Yeah. Most coq au vins can take up to three to four hours, but my mum didn’t have the time,” Luca explains, as you watch him remove the pieces of chicken from out of the heavy, enameled, cast-iron pot and onto a plate. “But it was important for her… to cook for me… to share that ritual with me when she could.” 

The sound of the wine and cognac mixture hitting the hot pan sizzles throughout Luca’s home, your nose filling with the smell of deglazed caramelized bits. 

“And I spent a lot of time as a kid watching the cooking channel, so while we didn’t exactly spend all Sunday cooking a classic French coq au vin, Jamie Oliver’s did the job quite well,” Luca recalls, sharing a piece of his relationship with food with you. 

“Well, it smells incredible,” you say, as he approaches you once more, this time with a full glass of wine in your hands, ready for him. 

As Luca leans in again, the way he kisses you is much more languid, slow, like time is limitless. You breathe him in, completely enamored with the man that’s kissing you, and before anything too wild can happen, he pulls away, leaving you wanting more. Luca smirks, and you swear he knows the effect he has on you. He presses a quick peck to your lips this time, before taking the glass of wine from your hands and heading back to his post in front of the stovetop. 

“This all goes back in,” he continues, using tongs to add the chicken and pancetta bits back into the simmering pot. “Then we braise it in the oven for about… thirty, forty minutes maybe.” 

You raise your glass of wine to your lips, taking a quick sip of the beaujolais you’re using both for the coq au vin and to unwind, listening as the song changes in the background, instantly recognizing the drum pattern. The corners of your lips turn up into a smile as you close your eyes, enjoying the familiarity of the song as you say:

“God, I love this song.”

Luca smiles, “It’s a classic. Great song.” 

Show me, show me, show me how you do that trick

The one that makes me scream, she said

The one that makes me laugh, she said

Threw her arms around my neck

“You know, I saw them when I was in my early 20s. It was just me and a bunch of somebody’s dads,” you grin, in reference to The Cure. 

Luca chuckles at your comment, before asking, “Did you really?” 

“Yes. And when they came out on stage, smoke machine and all, I wept because it was the fulfillment of a childhood dream – to see them. I… was a bit of an angsty teen,” you answer, raising your wine glass to your lips once more. 

“Think we all had an angsty phase, more or less. Mine was less pining to The Cure and more stirrin’ up trouble,” Luca admits, lightheartedly. 

“Again, and I’m holding you to it. You promised me pictures,” you remind him with aplomb. 

“I did, yeah,” he chuckles, shyly, with a sigh of resignation. 

You focus on enjoying one of your favorite songs and sipping on your glass of wine, as you watch Luca put the enameled cast-iron plot, full of the ready-to-braise coq au vin, into the oven. 

Comfortable silences between you and Luca have become more frequent. There are days that all you want to do is stay up till the early hours of the morning talking and kissing and fucking, and there are others that you love leaning into the quiet intimacy that seems to be developing between you. It’s almost as if you’ve forgotten what this feels like – the excitement of something new where you’re learning so much about each other and everything feels like the first time. 

It’s thrilling and it’s also safe. 

Luca makes you feel safe, and you can’t imagine doing this with anyone else but him. 

For a first time relationship, post-divorce, you really hit the jackpot, you think to yourself. 

Luca continues moving around the kitchen, drinking his wine in between clean up tasks, as if he’s at work, hell bent on keeping his station clean. He’s much better than you are at that, you observe, as he does a few dishes that he’s used up, instead of leaving them in the sink for tomorrow. 

As he dries his hands on a dish towel, the song changes, and the opening notes of Beyonce’s Love On Top begin playing. You smile as you hear the undeniable: 

Bring the beat in!

“Alright, mate. Hear me out,” Luca proposes, spinning around with excitement. “And I don’t say this lightly. But this. This is one of the greatest songs of all time.” 

“I-I’m sorry,” you giggle as you watch Luca dance to the song in his kitchen with a smoothness that’s somehow simultaneously a little silly. 

“What? You don’t agree?” he asks, shooting you a look as he ball changes towards you, earning another laugh from you. 

“No, I do. I love this song,” you grin from ear to ear. “I’m just so tickled by the fact that you love this song.”

“It’s Beyonce,” he defends, in his best ‘well-duh’ kind of tone, gesturing wildly. “C’mon. Let’s dance.” 

“Wh-,” you begin to say, before Luca’s practically pulling you off of the counter to join him. “Luca!!”

But he’s not having any of your protests as he wraps his arms around you. You hang onto him, holding him close as he leads you in a silly uptempo kind of dance, spinning and turning you with him in a way that has you in a fit of giggles. The two of you stumble from his kitchen into the living space area as you move together, embracing how goofy and ridiculous you both feel. 

Luca sings along softly, something you get a better listen to as soon as he’s pulling you close to him. 

“What the fuck!” you practically shriek, your jaw practically on the floor. 

“Hmm?” he hums in response, unphased by your outburst. 

“You’re unfuckingreal,” you balk, as you listen to him hum along to the Beyonce song. “I mean. You-, like, you look like this, you’re great in bed, and you have a nice singing voice? How-, how’s a girl ever supposed to stand a chance?” 

He chuckles, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, sending chills down your spine as he coos, teasingly, “I’m great in the sack, hmm?” 

Your heart skips a beat as you pull back, just enough to look into the eyes of your lover as you say, “Oh fuck off.”

He laughs again, this time, leaving a soft kiss against your ear, hugging you closer to him as you slow your dance down as the song begins to end. There’s a pause between this and the next song, providing the perfect opportunity for Luca to answer your earlier question. 

“You weren’t,” Luca replies, his voice quiet but sure. Supposed to stand a chance, he means. “I think we were supposed to meet. Supposed to be here.”

Supposed to fall in love. 

He leans down to kiss you as the next song begins, transitioning into a much bluesier sound. The crooning sounds of Etta James blast from Luca’s living room speakers, as you smile into the kiss. You groan, your heart aching in the best way as kiss him to:

I want a Sunday kind of love

A love to last past Saturday night

And I'd like to know it's more than love at first sight

And I want a Sunday kind of love, oh yeah, yeah

“My God. I think tonight’s shuffle is proof that you may just have the most versatile taste in music history,” you mumble, pulling away for a moment from the kiss. 

As you open your eyes, Luca’s just admiring you, an awestruck look on his face that steals your breath. No longer able to deflect with humor or anything else really, you lay your head on his chest, settling into the soft swaying motion of the dance that you and Luca have fallen into. Your arms go around his neck once more as Luca holds you close to him, making a mental note to remember this forever. 

“How did you know?” you ask Luca, softly. 

“What’s that, love?” he asks back. 

“You said that you thought we might be good at this. At… at an ‘us.’ When we talked about starting to see each other,” you begin, choosing your words carefully, underscored by the violins of the song. 

Luca takes a deep breath admitting that, “I didn’t.” 

“What do you mean?” you ask, looking up at him, your eyes full of adoration for the man that’s captured your heart.

“Babe, I-,” he starts, letting out a small laugh. “I knew we got on well. And that I liked you. And I thought… if we got on this well as friends and you felt the same, that we could give it a go. See what happens.” He takes a beat, choosing his words, before continuing with: 

“But, my love, I can’t predict the future. It could work out in the long run, it could not. But I wanted-, I want to see how far we can take it.”

You take a deep breath, because this conversation is deep-breath worthy. 

Notorious for wanting to read the last page of a book first, you know he’s right, that you can’t predict the future, and you, now just as much as he does, would like to see how far this could go. 

“Yeah it-, that makes complete sense,” you stammer, feeling incredibly vulnerable all of a sudden. You rest your head against his chest again, settling back into your slow sway to the beat. 

Like clockwork, the song ends, something a little more upbeat trickling in through the speakers. You and Luca remain in each others’ arms, content to stay here forever. You’re amazed at his confidence, at his fearlessness to take a chance on love, and you think to yourself, he might be teaching you some of that too. 

“Let’s take a trip together,” Luca suggests, the low resonance of his voice cutting through the quiet. “Maybe end of the month or something. An end of summer trip.” He chuckles, a hand coming up to stroke your hair as you enjoy the way his voice vibrates in his chest. 

“Fuck it. I could care less if we make it in time for the end of summer. Let’s just get out of the city together.” 

“That sounds spectacular,” you answer. 

And it’s there, in Luca’s arms after a dance party for two, that you think to yourself, you couldn’t be happier.

[napolebonasacc]

Painting around 1825 depicting the children of Jérôme Bonaparte and Catherine de Wurtemberg. The baby is Prince Jerome-Napoléon, nicknamed "Plon-Plon". It is from him that the current branch of the Imperial House came from; the little boy is Prince Jerome-Napoléon-Charles, Prince of Montfort, who will die at the age of thirty-two; the little girl is Princess Mathilde. The Children group posing in front of a landscape. It can be assumed that this is a site on the Adriatic coast, in the Porto di Fermo region, around Ancona. At the time of the painting, the Count of Montfort (name of exile Jerôme) and his family spent the summer months there in a villa he had built.

The Portrait is by Michel Ghislain Stapleaux, a student of Jacques-Louis David.

[kissalopa]

Bella is in Medical career, so she was able to determine the sex of Mathilde's future child 👩‍⚕️

That was one of the challenge's rule:

Determine the baby's sex for a sim parent +1 point

Maybe I should try and count points for gen 1 🤔

Previous || Next Beginning (Gen 2)

[uniquexusposts]

Her || Charles

Main characters: Charles Leclerc x OC Genre: fanfiction, fluff  Story type: novel  Part: 6/45 Word count: 2006 Co writer: @mistrose23 Story summary: Matilde Jørgensen, the new Scuderia Ferrari team principal, faced the nerve-wracking challenge of reviving the team's fortunes and aiming for a championship. Leading a historic team as a 'newbie' and separating her work and personal opinions posed a significant challenge. The big question: is she capable to do so?

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Chapter 4. F1 Giggles & Tea

"Another week, another episode of F1 Giggles & Tea," the girl with the blonde hair opened the podcast with her friend, her voice carrying a cheerful tone. "Today we are gonna talk about Matilde Jørgensen."

The girl with brunette hair, the co-host of the podcast, nodded and smiled widely. "The girl boss of the grid."

"The team principal of Ferrari."

"Not gonna lie, she is living the dream," the blonde girl said.

"Although she isn't the first female team principal in F1, she certainly is one of the youngest."

"Only 29 years old!" The girl with blonde wavy hair raised her eyebrow. "Did you know who she was before she joined Ferrari?"

The brunette slowly shook her head. "She wasn't on my radar until she debuted as team principal. The thing in F1 is that you will not be known until you do something special, or if you are a head of department or a principal."

"Yeah, it's a shame, actually. There are so many people working behind the scenes. But I looked Matilde up, because I feel like we need to give her a platform. She is a team principal, but I'm quite curious to know how she got there," the girl with the brown hair said and took a sip of her coffee. Even though the podcast was called F1 Giggles & Tea, the girl preferred iced coffees. But the name was nice. The co-host nodded. "Matilde Jørgensen is from Denmark. I found on her Instagram that she was born on October the 8th, and she is 29 years old-"

"I still cannot believe she is a team principal under 30. It's really impressive."

"I mean, it feels like Ferrari had no candidates but Matilde, like she was the only one who applied for the job, no offence to Matilde." They both laughed. "Anyway, she studied at the Technical University of Denmark: Engineering in IT and Economics, also doing a mathematical degree at the same time. She got a placement at Red Bull Racing in IT. After that, she got a job within Red Bull as a strategist, and worked her way up to Senior Strategist, working closely with Hannah Smitz. And now she is the team principal of Ferrari."

The brunette looked impressed. "It sounds so easy," she said. "And that while only being 29 years old."

"I'm 25 and I can't handle my job at the supermarket."

"I'm still crying myself to sleep over my studies." Laughter filled the podcast. "But to our comparison: how is she doing her job so far? Let's compare her to last year's season."

The girl with blonde hair nodded and grabbed her notes. "Bahrain, 2022: Charles p1 and Carlos p2 In 2023: Charles P5 and Carlos p4. Saudi Arabia, 2022: Charles p2 and Carlos p3. In 2023: Charles p4 and Carlos p5. Australia, 2022: Charles p1 and Carlos DNF. In 2023: Charles p2 and Carlos p4," she said. "Baku was after Monaco, but this year it is before Miami. So Baku, 2022: Charles DNF and Carlos DNF. In 2023: Charles p4 and Carlos p2."

"Hmm, it sounds like the start of 2022 was more promising than this year," the brunette mused.

"Yes, but let's be honest: the end of 2022 was a disaster for Ferrari. God knows what Mathilde had to deal with when she got there. I can imagine it was a mess," the blonde girl smirked. Let's compare the results so far after four races, shall we? Charles had 78 points in 2022 and currently has 53 points. Carlos had 33 points in 2022 and now has 46 points. In 2022 Ferrari had 96 points and they have 99 points in 2023. An overall difference of three points."

It was silent.

"It's... I hope they will stay consistent."

The blonde girl sighed. "I mean, Carlos has more points now. And the team has three more points. It's not a downward trend. Considering where Ferrari came from last season, it has improved already. I feel like the team is doing better, but we will find that out later this season."

"I hope this girl boss will fix this team. But first the next Grand Prix: Miami!"

* * *

The Floria sun blazed brightly in the midday sky as Matilde and the team gathered at the entrance of their hotel in Miami. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of race weekends and a lot of travel and it was intense. Someone from the media team proposed to go to the beach with the entire team. It was a much-needed break; it helped to adjust to the jet lag as well.

Matilde, who wore blue and white coloured linen shorts, a dark blue top and a white shirt, exchanged smiles with her colleagues as they gathered around in the lobby. The atmosphere was quite uncomfortable, perhaps it was because their team principal, their boss, was joining the team on a day out. At first, Matilde doubted going, because she would feel uncomfortable too, but Gemma convinced her to go, to work on the team building.

A few minutes later, the team made their way to the beach. Groups were formed, and people were talking. Matilde found an English girl among the hospitality people, they bonded because they both used to work for different teams. Liza used to work at Alpine and she started her job at Ferrari last year, one year ahead of Matilde. They could talk about Red Bull and Alpine and the things they had gone through.

The beach was a lively tableau of vibrant umbrellas, laughter and crashing waves. As Matilde and her team claimed an entire beach club, they settled down and ordered some drinks. Matilde sat down on a sunbed, looking around; almost the entire team was Italian, but there was a mix of nationalities and personalities after all. However, the common thread that bound them was their shared passion for racing.

Some people decided on dipping in the sea, others decided to work on their tan, or spend time together. Matilde grabbed a book out of her bag and decided to keep it to relax. She was reading the latest book by Norwegian writer Jo Nesbø.

"Oh, Jo Nesbø. My mum reads his books as well," Liza said. "She thinks they are amazing."

Matilde closed the book, realising reading wouldn't work. Her mind wasn't committed to it, she had too many thoughts racing through her head. "He is one of my favourite writers."

"It's so cliche, but I'm currently into reading those cheesy romances. Sarah Jio is currently my favourite writer," Liza replied and took a sip of her mojito.

A smirk left Matilde's mouth. "I read The Last Camellia on the plane. It's easy to read and it has such an amazing plot."

Liza nodded. "I loved that one too. Cliche, but good." She looked at the sea. "I don't know if you know this, or heard it, but there's a podcast going viral on TikTok. The viral episode is an episode about you."

Matilde raised her eyebrows. "I had no idea. What did they say?"

"Not much, but they talked about who you are since they didn't know much about you. They kinda dug into your history. Nothing personal came up, which made them frustrated," Liza chuckled. "Nothing negative."

"Who?"

"Two girls, they're hosting the 'F1 Giggles & Tea' podcast."

Matilde nodded. "I see." For the last few weeks, the media and fans have been very critical of Matilde. And she had to agree with them, because she too would create an opinion on a new team principal as well, but now that she was a team principal and people had an opinion on her, she had a different opinion on it. It felt unfair, because no one knew what she was doing and all the negative quotes were harsh on her. "I mean, I already read a few articles, positive articles, on how much they praise me for being a female team principal."

"You're doing a great job, Matilde. Ignore the media. Claire Williams did the same."

"As much as I respect Claire, things went downhill at Williams when she was the team principal."

"Then show them that you can do it. The Italians are tough, but you got this."

"I like your way of thinking."

"Give me a raise and we will talk again."

A laugh rolled over Matilde's lips. "We will see. Alright, enough about the media, I'm going to swim."

Liza nodded. "I will stay here and finish my drink. Will be there in a few minutes."

"Yes." Matilde got up and put on her sunglasses, making her way to the sea.

It was not like she was insecure about her body, but she knew that she didn't have a model body. She didn't have a six-pack, toned legs or arms. There was fat, she was midsized, skinny fat. And she was fine with it, she wasn't a gym girlie. But seeing all these models on the beach made her feel slightly uncomfortable.

While the team was enjoying a beach day, Charles had to follow his training scheme. He and his trainer Andrea were also on the beach. Andrea pushed Charles to his limit and it worked; Charles hated it and Andrea liked it.

As the training session progressed, Charles couldn't help but let his gaze wander occasionally towards the beach. He noticed some people from his team and it made him jealous. They relaxed on their day off and he still had to train. His eyes fell on a woman in a black bikini who was walking towards the sea. He tightened his jaw. His eyes lingered on Matilde's figure, she had beautiful curves. His attention was divided between the workout and the sight before him.

Andrea, noticing Charles' distraction, raised an eyebrow. "Focus," he said, his tone stern. "You're here to train, not to daydream."

Charles snapped back to attention, giving a sheepish grin. "Yep."

"Keep your focus on the workout, or you won't win."

As the workout continued, Charles struggled to keep his attention on his training. His eyes were inexplicably drawn to Matilde. She was talking to some other girl, both only having their feet in the water. Charles found himself following her movements, his concentration shattered.

Matilde walked further into the sea, the cool water offering a refreshing feeling from the sun's heat. She listened to Liza, who shared a story about a race she would never forget. Matilde let out a satisfied sigh, enjoying the sensation of the waves washing over her.

Andrea's patience wore thin as he watched Charles' lack of focus. With a sigh, he tossed a ball towards Charles, aiming it directly at his head. The ball made contact, snapping Charles out of his reverie.

"Ouch!"

Andrea crossed his arms, his annoyance was evident. "Maybe if you paid as much attention to your training as you do to whatever is distracting you, you would have caught that ball."

Charles muttered an apology, forcing himself to re-engage in the workout. But his eyes kept on wandering towards Matilde, who was now walking out of the sea, droplets of water clinging to her skin. His heart raced as he tried to regain his focus, but it was a tough battle.

Finally, Matilde saw Charles looking in her direction, and a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She had to pass him to go back to her sunbed. "Ah, lovely to train outside instead of the gym," she commented, her tone light and warm.

"Yes, quite the change of scenery," he replied curtly, his gaze flickering away. The response was colder than they both expected it to be.

Matilde squeezed her eyebrows together, sensing the change in his attitude. She was taken aback by his abruptness, but before she could reply to him, Charles turned his attention back to his workout. Matilde walked away, shook her head and walked back to her sunbed, following Liza.

As the workout processed, Charles pushed himself through the rest of his training, determined to shake off his distraction. But the memory of Matilde walking out of the sea, water glistening on her skin, lingered in his mind, igniting a spark of attraction that he couldn't ignore. 

Next chapter

[luminiferocity]

Chapter 12 of Let Me Count the Ways is up on AO3!

In this chapter, Q realises he has to make a decision, and Bond ends up in a bit of a pickle.

Full summary below the cut…

Let Me Count the Ways by luminiferocity Chapters: 12/20 Fandom: James Bond (Craig Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James Bond/Q Characters: James Bond, Q (James Bond), Eve Moneypenny, Bill Tanner, M | Gareth Mallory, Madeleine Swann, Mathilde (James Bond) Additional Tags: No Time to Die (2021) Fix-It, Canon-Typical Violence, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, and they were HOUSEMATES, James Bond's Tendency to Run, Q Backstory (James Bond), BAMF Q (James Bond), James Bond Is A Menace, Q is a Little Shit, Bond is Delighted, M | Gareth Mallory is So Done

Summary:

“I bet you can’t name five things that make me an attractive option.” Q cocks his head, as if considering Bond. “We can’t all seduce our way to as long a trail of broken lovers as you. Even at your advanced age.”

Q thinks Bond is incapable of actually being offended, hence why he feels safe to throw aspersions his way. Indeed, Bond’s eyes register surprise, then they crinkle in amusement.

“I bet you I can name six.”

“Hmm?”

“Six reasons why our dear Quartermaster is a catch. Number one, you’re incredibly charming.”

+

Or, what if Bond crashes Q’s date that night and never bloody leaves. A slow burn following NTTD and beyond, including Bond and Q discovering what they want in life and how to be the kind of people that can hold onto it.

[dabiconcordia]

Reapers

Sun-tanned men and women, toiling there together; six I count in all, in yon field of wheat, Where the rich ripe ears in the harvest weather Glow an orange gold through the sweltering heat.

Busy life is still, sunk in brooding leisure: Birds have hushed their singing in the hushed tree-tops; Not a single cloud mars the flawless azure; Not a shadow moves o'er the moveless crops;

In the glassy shallows, that no breath is creasing, Chestnut-coloured cows in the rushes dank Stand like cows of bronze, save when they flick the teasing Flies with switch of tail from each quivering flank.

Nature takes a rest—even her bees are sleeping, And the silent wood seems a church that's shut; But these human creatures cease not from their reaping While the corn stands high, waiting to be cut. by Mathilde Blind

[lupine-trees]

first & last

[ for @microficmay day 30. drarry | rating: t | word count: 78 | part 28 | part 1 here | tagged #lup’s microfic may | read the full story here ♡⋆˙ ]

— — —

Draco’s owl is a beautiful tawny screech owl, all pretty, freckled wings and soft semiplume feathers. Mathilde. She’s particularly fond of Harry.

She arrives in early June, two days after he’s gone, with a great and gentle swish, landing on the sill of Harry’s bedroom window.

Harry fusses over her, gracious, slips her the very best of his treats.

The letter he hastily unties from her leg is the first they exchange.

It is far from the last.

[demise-seems-dead]

@askingkyborg 's main here to bring you some depressing chip mini fic time because im dying

SPOILERS FOR EPISODES 32-34 AND TW FOR suicidal ideation, self harm, and some mentions of blood.

chip in todays ep was so insane for me i just i couldn't resist.

Mathidle hasn't felt a lot of warmth in their after life, and that's alright. The thing about ghosts is that they feel in opposition to a human. When you're alive, you get a spring to your step. You feel the kisses of the sun bead down over your eyelashes. The wind stirs hunger in your stomach and you fight against it in a little human battle. Your hands get warm when you work for too long, calluses thrumming with your pulse and very very warm. Mathilde knows this to be true.

They don't remember holding a lot of hands, but they remember the feeling, maybe due to its stark contrast to know. When a person is very alive, their hands get warm, and when they are dead and gone, their hands grow cold. And thus for ghosts it works the opposite. When alive hands are as cold as frosty knives but when on the brink of death their hands would be ever so warm. 

Ellgas hands were moderately warm. Not technically undead but having lived multiple life spans she grew warm. With Barney it was impossible to tell. Sometimes his hands felt hot, other times too cold. Hard to discern. By way of logic Chips hands are the coldest of course. Being the youngest of the party somehow, and pretty physically adept, he was the most alive of them all, and thus the coldest. Mathilde can't touch the tieflings hands without a shiver climbing up his non corporeal body. 

That's what made today so different. Chip’s are blazing warm. 

They’d been giving blood to the vanian worker in exchange for currency. Mathilde put themselves close to the brink of death, but for good reason. There is a ghost after all, dying again would be a stunt and a half. Their body has started to float, and their items are starting to slowly fade through their body as he inches closer to full spirit than not. It's not as if they enjoy it, but the familiar tickle isn't a bad thing. 

From beside them a sharp gasp comes from Barney's throat. A head turn shows chip loading up his crossbow, using the cocking stirrup and his foot to slide the bolt back with ease. Its a weird action for someone who had initially seemed hesitant to donate any blood at all. Mathilde raises an eyebrow just as the purple tiefling points the crossbow down at his foot and shoots. A shot of blood stains the white of his shoe and he noticeably grimaces. JJ mews from beside mathilde, circling where his feet are dangling. Mathilde knows kittens know when people are close to passing on, and especially a ghost cat. Mathilde bends a bit to scratch her tiny little grey head to let her know they're okay. It's weird knowing you're close to dying, but as a ghost it doesn't hurt, so it's a bit easier. Another crossbow bolt is shot, and JJ’s ears flatten down a little. 

Mathilde looks back up towards chip. A fuzzy outline is starting to show on him, blue and purple swirly. His face is tight and screwed up, nose pressed into grooves and eyes watering. They can hear a crack of barney's voice, like he's about to say something but pauses. The old man's brow furrows. The teller behind the counter starts counting out money softly, and chip moves in a quick motion. Mathilde momentarily thinks he's putting it away, but after a moment it's drawn, but up by his head. 

“Mon ami, maybe be a little bit more careful w-” Mathilde doesn't finish their thought before the bolt is wedged in chip's neck. It drips a long red string, and mathilde can see ellga lick her lips ever so slightly, but does not ignore the slight worry in her brows. 

Mathilde knows Chip can't take many more shots. Three if he was lucky. Yet it doesn't stop him from moving again. Mathilde closes their eyes as he hears the loading noise, and with the shot the blurry ghost-like outline grows stronger, the purple colour bloombing out more. Another shot. That makes five. He can only take one more. JJ is meowing at the tiefling, who's struggling to stand, blood dripping out of his mouth and leaned over the counter. The clerk seems unphased. 

Mathilde closes their eyes again, and sees a new colour. A soft green pushing the blue and the purple away in the dark. Instinctually, as the light brightens, mathilde opens their eyes. Chip is shuttering audibly, eyes lazing open and shut as he braces.

“Carols gone, what else is there to lose…?” JJ bats at chip’s leg, as if in an effort to stop him. Mathildes face stiffens  at the assassin's comment, and they gently wrap an arm around chip, protectively surrounding him with his wings. 

“Alright, I think that's enough. We’ve got plenty of spending money, right chip?” “...Spendin’ money… r-right, right yeah! Were, were rich!” The brunette moves to pick up his currency and his fingers fumble uselessly, eyes lidded slightly. Mathilde makes their hands noncorporeal and gently scoots the coins to his hands without him noticing, not to make him feel coddled. The alchemist shoots a look over his shoulder at mathilde, and mathilde nods back. The mood remains a bit darker and dreary, but chip seems somewhat stable. Mathilde takes his hand gently. The tieflings hands are warm as can be, and it makes a flood of warmth come over mathilde themselves. 

Weirdly, if just for a moment, he feels a second hand reach over theirs. They close their eyes and see a ghostly outline of a tiefling woman, her hand over yours and chips. She presses a finger to her lips and gives a soft but saddened smile. She mouths to them gently.

“Don't let him down this path, mathilde…” A ghostly wiz-consinite voice whispers in their head. He opens his eyes again to see chip leaning down, smiling at a photo in his hand. Mathilde smiles softly.

“I'm glad she's watching over you, my friend.” they say even though the rogue will likely forget his words from the blood loss. He nods and smiles a bit more. 

“‘M glad too, mathilde…” 

[castillon02]

007 Fest Masterpost

This 007 Fest was such a fun time! Although I was Le Tired and had a more lowkey kind of fest, I loved being able to hang out with other Bond fans, do some writing and crossword puzzles, make some comments, and encourage others.

Thank you to everyone who participated, and particularly to my fantastic co-mod, Lin, and to my fellow Station Head, Kitten-Kin, whose magnificent commenting frenzy helped my monthly goal get completed!

Monthly Accomplishments

Attended an LotR watch party hosted by Anya

Attended a Bond-themed Quiplash hosted by Ruggsie

Completed Bluebell's places-in-Bond crossword (tricky! :D)

Make them clean their own guns (whump prompts 'conditioned' and 'interrogated')

Kept Secret (whump prompt) 

Scavenger hunt: Bond in the wild 

300 words: the Omega watch ficlet 

Jet Twimbly update #4, #3 # 2, #1 

Jet Twimbly intro 

Q and Mathilde Headcanon 

Silenced, 200 words (whump prompt table)

Scavenger hunt: NTTD memes 

Simpatico, 100 words 

Trust but Verify, betrayed, 350 words (whump table, word count free space) 

Scavenger hunt: animals of Bond crossword puzzle  

[charlotte-of-wales]

Happy 21st birthday to Prince Gabriel of Belgium!

Born on 20 August 2003, Gabriel Baudouin Charles Marie is the elder son and second child of King Philippe and Queen Mathilde of Belgium. He is currently second in line to the throne of Belgium after his elder sister, Elisabeth.

He was named after his great-uncle King Baudouin of Belgium, his maternal uncle and godfather Count Charles-Henri d'Udekem d'Acoz and Virgin Mary.

In August 2022, the Royal Family announced that Gabriel will attend the Royal Military Academy of Belgium, studying social and military sciences in Dutch and will be a part of the 162nd class. In September 2022, the Prince received his blue beret and trained under the name "Gabriël van Saksen-Coburg".

Gabriel speaks Dutch, French and English.

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter three

summary: while you and luca seek inspiration outside of the kitchen, you finally share a piece of yourself with him.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, conversations about divorce, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 2.2k

a/n: thank you again for all the shares, reblogs, comments! let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

part two | masterlist | part four

It’s been a month or so since Luca’s tasting menu for one, and he’s been nothing but a good thing in your life: a friend, a collaborator, a regular diner who gives fantastic feedback. You’ve become fast friends, and after what he did for you, how could you not? You find yourself spending days off with him at a more frequent pace as of late: enjoying cups of coffee, perusing bookstores, following Luca on bicycle as he shows you the city’s lesser known, yet spectacular bakeries. He gives you a heads up when he can’t make it into the restaurant, but most Saturdays, he continues to make his regular Saturday 7 pm date week after week. 

Some days you make him something off-menu – something you’re working on, something you’re recipe testing, a dish you’ve bounced ideas around with him over – and other days he’s eager to try whatever new thing you’ve just added to your menu, insisting for you not to go through the trouble of whipping up anything else. It’s a special relationship – something only food-people can understand – and you’re glad that Luca entered your life. 

“Hey, your boyfriend’s here,” Jesper says, interrupting your dinner prep as he grabs your attention. 

“My what?” you ask him, with no clue in the world what he’s talking about. 

“Luca,” he answers plainly, as you and Mathilde both exchange a look. 

“Shut up, Jesper,” you both snap in unison, shooting a glare his way. 

You exchange another look with Mathilde, almost as if to say: you good? She nods towards the front of house as if to say: yes, I’ve got this covered. 

“Yeah, give me a second and I’ll be right out,” you finally direct towards Jesper, as you put down your knife. You reach a stopping point, wiping your hands on your apron, as you leave behind the Mikkelson twins bickering about what Jesper’s previous comment. 

Something about ‘you baby her’ from Jesper and a ‘you’re going to scare her away and this is a good thing, you idiot’ from Mathilde in return. At least that’s what you’re able to make out from your basic Danish language skills (you’re working on it, you swear, and right now you know enough to get by in the kitchen and that’s enough)!

You spot Luca with a package tucked underneath his arm as he leans up against the front door, waiting for you. 

“Hi,” you greet him, choosing to ignore the fact that your heart skips a beat as soon as you see him. 

“Hey. I was on my way to the post office around the corner. Thought I’d stop in and say hello,” he replies with that ever-charming crooked smile of his. 

“No, yeah, I-. I’m glad you did,” you return, unable to hide the smile that spreads across your lips. 

You don’t want to make a big deal out of it, especially if this is somehow something you’ve made up entirely in your head, but it seems as if Luca’s found different ways – different excuses – to stop in more and more frequently as of late. 

“What’s in the box?” you ask him, curiously, gesturing to the package he holds underneath his arm. 

“Remember that American I was telling you about? The one who came to stage?” he asks, looking down for a moment. 

“Yeah.”

“His restaurant opening is this week. Wanted to send this off. As a gift.”

“That’s kind of you.”

He blushes, just for a moment. 

“Think we’ve lost touch with the art of a handwritten note. A novelty these days,” he says, with a quick raise of both eyebrows. 

“Absolutely. I mean… it worked on me,” you chuckle, immediately regretting what’s come out of your mouth. 

You’re not sure why you said it and what exactly it is that worked on you you’re referring to, but it’s too late to take it back. 

“Yeah, I’ve got him to thank, really,” he chuckles, almost shyly. Taking a bolder approach as he continues with, “For reminding me to walk the walk. For bringing me to you.”

You pause, your heart catching in your throat. In the event of fight, flight, and freeze, it really feels like you’re choosing ‘freeze’ whenever Luca’s been around.

“I bet you’re a really great teacher,” are the words that fall out of your mouth, immediately regretting them for how silly your response sounds. 

“So was he,” he parries back. 

“Sure,” you nod, still reeling from whatever the hell came out of your mouth a moment ago. 

Your disconcerting slip-of-the-tongue seems to leave an uncomfortable silence between the two of you, tip-toeing around each other, unsure of who should make the next move. 

“Anyways,” Luca clears his throat, collecting himself. “I ehm, gotta get going. Gotta get back to the restaurant here in a few. It was good seeing you today.”

“You too,” is all you reply, frozen and stuck in your own head. 

What the hell is wrong with you? You think to yourself as you watch him go. 

“Luca, wait,” you say, pushing through the front door to your restaurant as you chase after him. 

He turns back towards you, a kind of ‘did I leave something behind?’ look on his face. 

“I can’t stop thinking…” you trail off, taking a breath before you continue your sentence, leaving Luca unsure of what you’ll say next. 

“...about that dish you’re stuck on. And about what you said.. about finding inspiration. Being open to… you know, what’s out there.”

“Yeah?” he asks, smiling at the thought of you thinking of him. 

“Yeah I… I think I have an idea,” you declare boldly. 

And it may be a baby step, but it’s a baby step towards him, towards who knows what, towards whatever’s ahead of you. 

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

You pitch the idea to Luca –  to explore different mediums of art as a way of seeking out inspiration (and maybe it’s just another excuse to see him too) – and after a few weeks of busy schedules, covering at the restaurant for coworkers-on-holiday, and lining up days off, you and Luca finally make it happen. It’s been over a year now, since the restaurant opened – and almost two since you came to Copenhagen in pursuit of a dream.

“Wait a second. So you haven’t read Rene Redzepi’s A Work In Progress?” Luca asks incredulously looking for confirmation of the obscene tidbit of information you’ve just revealed to him. 

“No,” you admit, guiltily stealing a glance his way. 

“My god, it’s fascinating! I’ll have to lend you my copy,” he charges forward, solving the problem at hand without question. 

“I’d like that,” you smile, almost to yourself as you think about how much you like being around Luca. “And I’d love to hear about your time at noma – what working under him was like.”

“Uh… that’s maybe a different story for a different time,” he deflects with a chuckle, shooting you a look. “Perhaps after a few pints.”

“Heard,” you nod in understanding, turning to him as the two of you find a good place to post up in the park. You and Luca set your lawn chairs down in Kongens Have, or rather The King’s Garden, right behind a row of other lawn chairs set up that face the tent-covered stage. 

“It’s good to see you,” you finally say, really taking him in. 

“It’s good to see you too. Sorry it’s just working out now,” Luca apologizes emphatically. 

“No, it’s okay! We uh… we’re both busy. We both run restaurants. I mean-, I’m surprised we figured it out in time for the show,” you reply, easily letting him off the hook. 

“This is pretty cool,” he says, taking in your surroundings. “First time here?”

“Yeah I-, I didn’t make it when I first moved here… and then this time last year I had just opened the restaurant so… yeah first time. You?”

“Yeah, first time,” he echoes with a reassuring nod. 

“Really? I just thought-, well, I thought Copenhagen Jazz Fest was like a huge deal here,” you inquire. 

He shrugs, responding with, “I reckon you’re a big jazz fan then, eh?”

“Yeah,” you say.

“Have you always been into it or-?” he questions curiously. 

“Uh, no. I… my ex,” you hesitate, figuring you should tell Luca sooner rather than later. “... my ex-husband is a music historian so… I got really into it when we first started seeing each other. 

He balks, only for a moment, hoping you don’t notice the strong reaction that briefly flashes across his face. 

“You were married?” he asks, barely able to hide the surprise in his voice.

“Yeah,” you admit, nervously. 

He waits a beat. 

“Do you… want to talk about it?” he asks carefully, with an honesty and genuine curiosity in his voice. 

“I-I don’t mind. As long as you don’t-,” you stammer, only a little taken aback by the grace he’s shown you. 

“Please,” he encourages, listening carefully. “I like learning about you.”

You freeze for a moment, searching for where to begin, and more than anything, in awe of Luca. 

“We met right after I moved back home to Boston – right after I finished school,” you begin, watching him carefully for any kind of reaction. 

“And it was good. For a long time. But after a few years of being together, his mom got sick and uh… we both decided that we wanted to move to London so that he could help his sisters take care of her. It was just easier… if we got married… with immigration and stuff.”

“But you loved him?”

“Yes,” you answer. “I think… we knew we wanted to stay together… so we took the leap, unafraid of the fact that everything has its expiration date too. Ours just uh, came a little sooner than we expected.”

“What happened?” Luca asks. 

You chuckle dryly, racking your brain for the answer to a question you’ve asked yourself a million times. 

“Um… moving back home changed a lot, I think. And we met when we were so young that I don’t think by the time we were caring for a sick parent together, we realized we didn’t really even know who we were anymore,” you explain, putting words to a feeling that’s live in your heart for so long – long enough that you’ve barely shared them with anyone else. 

“And… I was living in a whole new country without any kind of familiarity. I was homesick, and all of it – it was just really hard on the both of us,” you think through as you speak. 

“I think it just made us realize that we had changed… and that maybe we weren’t the same people who fell in love all those years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Luca apologizes, sending you an empathetic glance. 

“It’s okay,” you’re quick to reassure him. “It was tough. Don’t get me wrong. Like… really tough. But nothing… horribly wrong happened. Some people can grow together.” You pause, only for a moment. “We didn’t. We… weren’t those people, I guess. So we grew apart.”

Luca takes a few moments to process what you’ve just told him with a pensive look on his face – and you can’t blame him. 

He waits a beat, before returning his gaze to you, a respect for you in his eyes: for your honesty, for your story, for your resilience. 

“Are you still in love with him?” he finally asks. 

It’s a good question – an interesting one – and even more interesting that he asked in the first place. 

“There are parts of me that will always love him,” you share, the vulnerability coming more naturally to you as Luca makes you feel more and more comfortable. “He’ll always be a part of me and… I still keep in touch with his family, you know. They became… my family too.” You pause, knowing that you can say this next part with full conviction:

“But to answer your question, no. I'm not… I’m not in love with him anymore.”

Luca nods slowly, almost as if he’s waiting for you to change your mind – to take it back – to say something that convinces him otherwise. But you don’t, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to help himself from giving in to things he’s been feeling for you. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I asked,” Luca finally says. 

“No I-,” you begin. “I’m glad you did. It feels nice… having someone ask.”

He smiles, “Like I said. I like learning about you.”

And with that, the two of you settle into your lawn chairs as the performers make their way onto the stage. There’s a shift – within the crowd, between you and Luca – as the musicians take their places, ready to perform. With the first few notes, the tuning of a guitar, a few keys on the piano, you feel yourself relax a little, encompassed by the warmth of the Copenhagen summer night. 

It’s almost as if telling Luca, sharing this with him, has lifted a weight off of your shoulders – no longer hanging over your head as you go back and forth of when to tell him, and if you should tell him, and thoughts of ‘why the hell are you worrying about this it’s not like he wants to know’. 

Except he did and he does because he wants to know you. 

And tonight, because he asked, because he’s proven to be a great listener, and because he looks so damn good doing it, you might just let him.

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

a/n: ok how the hell are we feeling now that we know a little more about reader, her past, and why she's been holding back?! i honestly wanted to write a character that felt fresh, and different from me/my make my heart surrender character SO yeah, this where we're at --second chances at love and a story about opening up again -- with more to come.

[archduchessofnowhere]

Archduke Franz Josef goes to Bavaria

I was some days ago years old when I discovered that Franz Josef I's childhood diary is available in the Projekt Gutenberg. I'd been busy lately studying for upcoming exams and dreading for the future of my country, so I haven't had the time to look much into it, but for the little I've read it isn't that interesting - just short entries summarizing what he did on the day, with little to no personal thoughts. But even so I came across some entries that I thought might be of interest for you so I quickly put this post together, since I feel bad having this blog a bit abandoned as of lately.

At the beginning of September of 1843 the thirteen-years-old Archduke Franz Josef went with his mother to visit their Bavarian family in Munich. While "Franzi" (frustratingly to us) dedicates more words to describe what kind of animals he hunt that day than to his relatives, this somewhat dull entries still contain a very interesting piece of information: the earliest recorded meeting between him and his future wife, Duchess Elisabeth in Bavaria. So without further delay, here are the entries from September 2 and 3, which correspond to the first two days of the Archduke's visit to Munich (as always mandatory disclaimer that these are machine translations and therefore there may be/are some mistakes):

2. From Wasserburg we travelled to Munich, the beautiful dear Munich, where we saw the magnificent Festbau, the Basilica, the Ludwigskirche, the staircase of the library, the huge Bavaria by Stiegelmayer and the All Saints' Chapel.

We dined at Palais Leuchtenberg at half past four. Sad memories when we saw the lords, ladies and servants of poor Grandmama [Queen Caroline of Bavaria, who passed away in 1841]. I met the Crown Prince [Oscar] and Crown Princess [Josephine] of Sweden there.

We left Munich at 7 o'clock and arrived at Possenhofen at quarter past ten. We found there the Duke Max and all his children except Louis [Duke Ludwig Wilhelm], who is in Switzerland.

3 Sunday. We breakfasted with Aunt Louise [Duchess Ludovika], Helene, Elise [Elisabeth] and the very nice but almost spoilt Karl [Theodor]. At 10 o'clock we went into the dull chapel to hear mass, where I felt so sick that I had to be carried out of the chapel to an open window, where I got well again; then I lay down on the bed. At 12 o'clock I and Count Bombelles fished with Duke Max, where we caught 20 birch and white fish. I dined at my place with Count Bombelles and, because of my earlier habits, I only ate a plate of bouillons and an artichoke. In the afternoon we all went, even little Karl, to the king's castle on the opposite shore of the lake, where we had a snack. When we got home, I went straight to my room where I ate soup and then went to bed.

The Palais Leuchtenberg was the residence of Franz Josef's aunt Princess Auguste of Bavaria, the widow of Eugène de Beauharnais. Crown Princess Josephine was Auguste's and Eugène's eldest child, and therefore the future emperor's first cousin. I found this mention interesting because, even though they were closely related, the meetings between Franz Josef and the Bernadottes seem to have been rare, and I don't even know if he ever saw Josephine again when they were monarchs.

Meanwhile, Possenhofen was the summer residence of Duke Max in Bavaria's family (the Duke also had his own bachelor residence in which he spent most of his time, away from his family). Curiously FJ doesn't call him "uncle", though I don't know if this was for a particular reason or if he just didn't refer to the husbands of his aunts as uncles in general. At the time of this visit "Aunt Louise" was heavily pregnant with her seventh child, Mathilde, who would be born the 30th of that same month. His cousins Helene, Elisabeth (still called "Elise" by her relatives, the nickname "Sisi" would only appear in 1853) and Karl (whom apparently hadn't earned his nickname "Gackl" yet) were nine, five and four-years-old respectively. I have no idea why the twelve-years-old Louis, the eldest son the Ducal couple that FJ notes was missing, was in Switzerland. As for the youngest child of the couple - the still not two-years-old Marie - I suppose she was in the nursery, busy being a toddler, and that's why her cousin didn't saw her. Also it seems that passing out during Mass was really just A Thing That Happened, the place being so crowded and the incense being so strong, which may explain why Franz Josef is so casual about it in his writing.

Franz Josef and his mother stayed in Munich until September 6, so this was really a brief visit. The rest of the entries are just as exciting as the first two (ha!): visits to Possenhofen, the Palais Leuchtenberg and the Palais Max (the Ducal family's main residence in Munich), tea with Aunt Louise, family dinners, fishing and hunting (FJ feels the need to tells us exactly how many and what kind of birds did he shot, because obviously he knew the future historian would be dying to know that and not what he thought of his Bavarian relatives). There are two more things, however, that I would like to highlight from his entries. First, that despite having a reputation as a man uninterested in art, FJ deemed important to mention the many paintings and sculptures he saw in Munich; and second, this surprisingly poetic description of the lake Starnberg:

The wind whistled coldly across the lake, and the boat danced on the rolling waves of foam; it was a very beautiful sight; I thought I was on the sea, for towards the end of the lake the mountains were covered with clouds, and on this side one saw nothing but water, sky and a church tower illuminated by the sun.

And I have to give it to him, if he wanted, he could write more than short and dry descriptions.