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shadcwdancrs · 3 years

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ekaterina mikhaylova;

“our ideology is ‘you can do what you want, too much is never enough’. we are the life, we are the light; we are the envy of the gods above.”

basics.

full name: ekaterina ‘erica’ aliena sofiy romanowicz mikhaylova, duchess of vitebsk. age, birthday: thirty three. / jan 11, 2087. gender, pronouns: genderfluid, she/they/he. will accept all gendered terms. sexual orientation: pansexual, polyamorous. birthplace: minsk, belarus. nationality: belarusian, polish. occupation: crown princess of belarus, duchess of vitebsk. betrothal status: betrothed to pedar glücksburg, prince of denmark. previously betrothed to theodore cellario, prince of monaco. previously betrothed to marcus o’rourke, prince of ireland. faceclaim: lyndsy fonseca.

appearance.

height: 5′4″. hair colour: dark brown. eye colour: blue. build: lithe, strong. tattoos: 'etoile’ across her right collarbone, several others i haven’t decided on yet. piercings: first and seconds, belly button, right ear helix, left ear daith, right nostril. scars: several i haven’t decided on yet.

psychology.

moral alignment: chaotic neutral. temperament: choleric. element: earth. zodiac: capricorn. mental disorders/conditions: bpd (undiagnosed), minor depression (undiagnosed).

family.

father: miroslav romanowicz mikhaylov. mother: unnamed popov [née wojciech] (biological mother). / natallia mikhaylova (step-mother). siblings: anastasya mikhaylova (32, younger sister), konstantin mikhaylov (30, younger brother), aksana mikhaylova (24, younger step-sister, not blood related), tetyana popova (28, younger half-sister), nikolai popov (25, younger half-brother), valentyna popova (24, youngest half-sibling). extended: svetlana kavaliuské (35, maternal cousin), rasa kavaliuské (33, maternal cousin), nevena maraš (32, paternal cousin), piotr wojciech (28, maternal cousin), ausra kavaliuské (27, maternal cousin), filipa wojciech (27, maternal cousin), henryk wojciech (26, maternal cousin), liliya mikhaylova (4, niece). pets: daisy (maltese shih tzu), jay (kelpie labrador).

misc.

language(s) spoken: belarusian, russian, polish, ukrainian, lithuanian, croatian, serbian, french, english, spanish, italian, mandarin. accent: belarusian, polish, plus a general amalgamation of a few eastern european accents. has been softened by her visits to western europe and favouritism for speaking english. drink: yes. smoke: yes.

bullet points.

---.

other notable connections.

alaya kazmir, princess of pakistan. murder accomplice, half-cousin (not blood related).

anna higgs, duchess of leinster. close friend, friends with benefits, fellow pr disaster, fellow not-cis friend.

anusha rai, crown princess of nepal. close friend, fellow pr disaster, fellow not-cis friend.

aurélie d’orléans, crown princess of france. future sister-in-law, fellow pr disaster.

benedict almeida. murder accomplice.

brielle d’orléans, princess of france. future sister-in-law, vaguely friendly.

charlie flanagan. soulmate, ex-boyfriend, best friend, ride or die, source of affection.

charlize d’orléans, princess of france. best friend, ride or die, sparring partner, fellow pr disaster, future sibling-in-law, fellow not-cis friend.

emerson ballantyne. murder accomplice.

emilia adley, crown princess of england. friend, fellow pr disaster.

frédéric könig, crown prince of switzerland. best friend, secret keeper, ride or die, future cousin-in-law.

grace cellario, princess of monaco. ex-girlfriend, best friend, source of affection.

jonas hertenstein, prince of germany. fellow not-cis friend.

lola gutierrez, princess of spain. best friend, source of affection (in denial).

lucille o’rourke, crown princess of ireland. best friend, fellow pr disaster.

marcus o’rourke, prince of ireland. enemy (affectionate), ex-betrothed, fellow not-cis friend.

morrigan flores, princess of canada. fellow pr disaster, hook-up.

pedar glücksburg, prince of denmark. betrothed, enemy (derogatory).

sarika vari, princess of hungary (previous crown). fellow pr disaster, future cousin-in-law.

thalia avci. murder accomplice, sugar baby.

theodore cellario, prince of monaco (npc). ex-betrothed, best friend.

#「 general 」 » intros.#「 general 」 » war of royals.#「 war of royals 」 » erica mikhaylova.

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bookworm-2692 · 4 years

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i was tagged by @childotkw also back in march but a couple of days after the other one

rules: you can usually tell a lot about a person by the type of music they listen to! put your music on shuffle and list the first ten songs, then tag ten people. no skipping!

American Pie - Don McLean

Dance Inside - The All-American Rejects

雨上がりに咲く花 - Spyair (a friend gave me this song... I had to google for a bit to find a list of songs so I could copy paste the title because I can’t type in Japanese (or read that) lmao)

Speak Now - Taylor Swift

On Dirait - Amir (artist for France in Eurovision 2016)

Dä ä bar å åk - Skidlandslaget

Vida Minha - Filipa Sousa (Eurovision Portugal 2012)

Dancing In The Rain - Ruth Lorenzo (Eurovision Spain 2014)

Gold On the Ceiling - The Black Keys

Chasing Rivers - Nano (Melodifestivalen 2019)

i’m so glad music now tells you the up next thing so i didn’t actually have to wait for all the songs to play to make this post given that im trying to do all the posts i was tagged in months ago

tagging: @caelytrix @lebannabell @the-pulp-almanac @spacedogprincess @adrift-in-eden @howimetthedoctor @hypnotized-so-mesmerized @darebo @friskbitz @justicetom21

#also means i can actually skip the songs i dont like #dont worry i wrote them all down but i dont have to subject myself to listening to all of them lmao #about me

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samtallchester · 1 year

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Whoever I am talking to at the time I am watching supernatural, I end up spamming their chat as I react.

I apologize to yall loves.

#filipa speaks

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drowning-in-dennor · 4 years

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The Verdict

After a harrowing selection, it’s time to see just who will advance to the finals. [A continuation of this.] [Recommended watching: Black Swan Siegfried variation by Mikio Kato, Prix de Lausanne 2014 (the choreography he uses is the same as Stellan’s)]

The one minute is over quickly. Panting and breathless, heart aching with how fast it’s beating, Henrik gets to his feet, spots blurring his vision and obscuring the audience, and bows. He can hear the thunderous applause from below the stage. He’s bowed to dozens of audiences since the beginning of his training, but every time, he’s felt the exhaustion and euphoria of dancing and knowing that people enjoyed it. Henrik runs backstage.

The adrenaline fades and he has to hold on to a wall, blinking until he can see properly again. The commentators are seated in a little booth behind him, and through the fading roar in his ears Henrik can hear one of them say, “and that was a delightful performance by Henrik Dansen.”

“Yes,” the other commentator agrees, “and next we have Stellan Grieg from Norway, also dancing a variation from Swan Lake.”

Heartbeat slowing, Henrik straightens up and looks out to the stage. From here, he’ll have a clear view of Stellan’s performance.

From the other side of the stage, Stellan walks onstage. The silvery sequins on his jacket sparkle beneath the spotlight, and his glossy white-gold hair gleams softly. Henrik catches sight of his face; he looks perfectly serene. Only his hand, clenched into a fist at his hip, shows how nervous he is.

Like what happened a little over a minute ago, the music starts.

Henrik has both seen and practiced the Black Swan variation hundreds of times, but despite that, Stellan’s interpretation of it is nothing like the versions he’s seen. Somehow, he’s made the variation entirely his, dancing so powerfully, so gracefully that he’s no longer playing the role of Siegfried, but a character of his own. All throughout, his expression remains composed and airy. He smiles as he finishes his tour jêtes and rushes centre stage for his entrechats, arms fluid and perfectly level. After the final jump, Stellan drops to one knee with the final fanfare of the music, arms poised lightly.

To applause, he stands up, bows, and runs backstage.

Stellan nears him, and Henrik notices that his cheeks are pink. He steps aside, allowing Stellan to double over, breathing hard. “I did it,” he pants.

“Yeah.” Henrik shoots out an arm to hold him steady when he nearly topples over. “You did great.”

“My arabesque was unsteady, my — my arms were too stiff…” Stellan blinks hard, trembling from head to toe. “Goodness, I messed up so bad.”

“No, no, your performance was fine.” He pats his back, adding, “the audience clapped really loudly, you know. They loved you.”

He stumbles away from Henrik, arms wrapped around himself. “Really?”

The applause Stellan got was plenty louder than what Henrik received at the end of his performance, that’s for sure. “Yeah. You might win the audience favourite award.”

“Maybe.” Stellan tosses his hair, his old self back. “We’ll find out this evening.”

They head back to the practice area and stay long enough to watch Sandor’s performance, that of a variation from La Bayadere. Then they go to the dressing room, change out of their suffocating costumes and meet up in the lobby of the theatre.

“We’ve got a few hours until the finalists are announced.” Henrik ruffles his hair, freeing it from the confines of the hairspray that held it in place before. “I have no clue where Berwald’s gone off to, so I can’t ask him to go shopping or whatever.” He looks at Stellan. “Do you want to spend the rest of the afternoon with me?”

He shrugs. “Sure, I guess. Should we go out for coffee?”

“Sounds good to me.”

…

All eighty of the candidates have gathered in the studio, and the commentators are summarising the day in front of a set of cameras, broadcasting themselves to the rest of the world. Standing on tiptoes to look over the sea of fellow dancers, Henrik peers at the empty floor, where the finalists are going to be standing soon.

Then the commentators approach them, holding out a microphone. “Do any of the candidates have anything to say?”

The first person to volunteer is candidate 206, a round-cheeked boy who waves cheerfully at the audience before speaking. “I loved learning from all these amazing teachers and adding onto what I already know. I’ve made lots of new friends, and it’s just been an amazing experience overall!”

Next to speak is 103, who takes the microphone with a smile. “Thank you for having me! I had an unforgettable five days, and I learned so much more than I ever imagined.”

To Henrik’s surprise, Stellan steps forward next. “This was my first-ever competition, and my first performance too,” he says. “This week has been wonderful, and I’m grateful to have the chance to come here.”

He disappears back into the crowd. Up front, it’s time to announce the twenty finalists. The artistic director of the Prix steps forward and begins. “Erika Zwingli, number 101.”

“Filipa Łukasiewicz, 110.”

One by one, the finalists step out, smiling triumphantly as they take their place on the dance floor. “Timo Väinämöinen, number 206.”

“Fleur Bonnefoy, 304.”

“Nataliya Plisetskaya, 315.”

“Henrik Dansen, 406.”

Shock flooding through him, Henrik shoulders through the crowd and bows to the jury. He stands with the other finalists, numb with surprise. Some of the spectators are clapping.

“Stellan Grieg, 407.”

Stellan joins him, eyes wide. Then, the rest of the finalists are called.

The announcements are over quickly, and the jury leaves. Henrik drops his shoulders. “Can’t believe I did it.”

“Neither can I.” Stellan shoots him one of his wicked smirks. “You, in the finals? What was the jury thinking?”

Henrik pouts.“You’re awful.”

“Indeed I am,” he purrs. “And the real competition starts now. There are only eight prize winners, and there’s no way they’d let two dancers doing the same variation win. That means one of us will have to fall behind.”

“You’re exactly right,” Henrik says. He looks right at Stellan, at those eyes sparked bright with anticipation. “Now, it’s just a matter of who that will be.”

#aph dennor #APH Denmark #APH Norway #aph fanfiction #my writing #ballet au #THEY WILL KISS #AT SOME POINT #I PROMISE

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alistonjdrake · 4 years

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Part Seven: The Stranger Queen

Queen Brandye Zych Mother to: Prince Toli & Prince Calvino Born: Year 1739 after the fall of the Saints Died: Year 1768 after the fall of the Saints

Again, it was not King Frederick’s decision or inclination to marry Brandye. In fact, in 1759, after returning home from a Rhine tour due to the news of the dead Queen Filipa, King Frederick had never heard of the 20-year-old Gegraen princess.

It was King Vadik of Oskya’s idea.

King Vadik married in 1749, the same year of his coronation, to Lukova Georgiy, Grand Duchess of Slovy. Oskya has a long, bitter history with Gegra. The two countries have never truly considered the other enemies, and at times have worked together, but conflict arises due to ownership of the Highlands and Oskyan armies using Gegraen land. Petty things like borrowed money never been paid back, incorrectly drawn or generous maps, whether people born in certain areas are more Gegraen or more Oskyan. The annoyance that is Highlander Geg, which sounds less like Lowlander Geg and more like a mix of Oskyi and Letrossi. Gegraens and Oskyans have always argued and in 1759, things were no different.

While King Frederick was at war in the Rhine, he requested the help of Oskya to supply his army. King Vadik could have moved his troops down through Slovy or Abenland, both nations more or less owned by Oskya, but he chose to have them go down through Gegra. The main reasons for this being Slovy has excruciatingly worse weather than Oskya and the journey would have been harsher, and until the end of 1759, Abenland would still be a republic. Since 1743, the lower class citizens of Abenland revolted against the ruling dukes and ran them out of the country who then took to begging King Vadik to storm the nation and take it back. Until the end of 1759, the Republic of Abenland would be fairly prosperous until inner struggles would make it ripe for Oskya to attack and it would fall into anarchy, but that was currently not of concern.

Marching through Gegra made them angry, and like many things, the problem was solved by marriage. One thing that made Gegra especially mad was being left out of the deals between Escan and Oskya. Escan was quickly growing a reputation and seemingly becoming the richest nation on the continent.

Brandye Zych was the daughter Archduchess Elżbieta Zych, sister to Prince Jakub Zych, who at the time was Gegra’s ovig marska. Gegra has twelve ruling families, and a main governing branch made up of the patriarchs of said families that claim to be equal partners in governing matters. They vote to elect to their ovig marska. But it is noted that out of eleven other possible families, Vadik selected a princess from one closest to the inner circle.

She was raised in the lowlands, in the capital of Jelberok. In her youth, she spoke Geg, Oskyi, and Kellish (as before 1761 and Kellish submission to both Oskya and Escan, the fanciful language was considered posh and impressive to learn). She spent her summers in her mother’s vast vacation home, was no stranger to scandalous courts as Gegra praises its industry of courtesans, she was a strong supporter of the arts, and was known for her good spirits.

Brandye was actually excited about the idea of living the only home she’d ever known, traveling all the way to Escan, and being queen in a country where she did not speak a word of the language. Perhaps to her, it was more exciting than the alternative, as Gegraen nobles usually marry their cousins or are doled out to Oskyan lords who are considerably more culturally and socially restrained. Escan had a reputation.

In truth, King Vadik had been in talk with the Zychs before Queen Filipa’s death, at first in the hopes of introducing Brandye as a possible mistress. With the timing, Brandye ended up arriving shortly after the funeral to the great dislike of the Merlo family but given she arrived with Oskyan troops, very little was said or done.

The only language they shared was Oskyi. So many in Escan had ignored King Frederick’s Oskyan background as the years stretched on. So many had forgotten their king liked to hunt, had spent his early years in the snow-covered mountains, and grew facial hair like their stern allies. His speaking Oskyi with his new wife brought back the loud whispers of how much of an outsider he truly was.

And despite Brandye’s taste for dancing and art, she did not fit in as well as she would have thought. The Escana did not take to her and she did not take to them. In her early days, she suffered from heat strokes often, fainting from long stretches of being out in the open. She did not like the food, was often laughed at for her attempts at learning Escan, sunburned easily, and would be sick often in the beginning. King Frederick liked her enough to get her pregnant before returning to the Rhine. He would say speaking to her reminded him of his childhood and very quickly grew fond of her.

The fondness would not last very long.

Queen Brandye had many factors working for her. When she had Prince Toli, the nation was happy in the way they had been when Prince Cidro was born. Prince Toli was a living symbol of an alliance. He tied Escan and Gegra together in blood. There were festivals and days of celebration. As a Gegraen, the thought of her husband having paramours did not bother it. Adultery is such a huge part of Gegra’s culture, especially among the rich and ruling classes. Most families grow up with their parent’s live-in courtesan being treated as just another family member. Such things were familiar to Brandye, as in reality, she had no “legal” father as her mother had stayed unmarried and had a close relationship with a courtesan instead.

While politics and government were not her strong suits, she relied on Prince Sebastian whenever King Frederick was away. Although the two of them could not talk very well, Prince Sebastian took it upon himself to help his sister-in-law learn Escan. She still liked to dance, and drink, and sing, even if most of the court saw her as strange and unapproachable. Queen Brandye surrounded herself with Gegraen ladies who were just as ostracized by the court.

The trouble started when Prince Toli spoke his first words. In Geg. It continued in 1761 when Queen Brandye was pregnant once more and now with fewer ladies who could speak to her because King Frederick did not want his children unable to understand what he thought should be their native language. But 1761 also marks the year Oskya and Escan divided the Kells between themselves. Escan took the West Kells, and to the rest of the world finally became known as the Escana Empire.

But it also marks the year a Kellish woman would come to Graza to start her career as a palace maid and at the age of 19, would catch the eye of King Frederick.

Queen Brandye was not as close to King Frederick’s paramours as perhaps Queen Trella had been. They did not share a dinner table with them, she did not call out to them in public (for she could not call out to anyone), but she was cordial. On holidays, she would give them minor gifts. She would never complain when King Frederick visited their bedchamber instead of hers, and as she was reaching the height of her pregnancy she understood the pattern where King Frederick momentarily ventured elsewhere.

It is also important to note, in Gegra all courtesans come from families of worth and so did King Frederick’s long term paramours. They were all courtiers who came from wealth and respected families and often when King Frederick broke his relationship with one, he’d take it upon himself to organize marriages and deals for them.

Queen Brandye was in confinement when King Frederick met the Kellish maid Luca Breacher and she probably would have prevented it otherwise. Luca Breacher practiced a unique hold over King Frederick and his judgment. He’d had dalliances with members of the serving class before but it was always something he discarded quickly, but he elevated Luca. Luca’s entry into court life overshadowed Prince Calvino’s birth. She was given her own rooms close to his, expensive jewelry and dresses, he would be seen escorting her around the gardens, servants would gossip that they slept in the same bed.

Queen Brandye was quickly infuriated. On her end, she was infatuated with her husband. She claimed to love him despite his faults and promiscuity. He’d always been kind to her, affectionate at times, but never going to the same grand lengths and gestures he afforded to a girl who months before had been scrubbing the halls. And Luca was known for her temper and bad attitude, going as far as to have (supposedly) slapped King Frederick in the face when he tried to leave her bed one morning to have breakfast with Queen Brandye.

Luca’s jealously was known to the whole court. One by one, King Frederick got rid of his other paramours. Some of which he’d had for years, some of which it was rumored he had children with, some of which had played a hand in government.

There were a few moments where Queen Brandye and Luca interacted. One most notable where Luca wore something similar to the queen and shouted loudly for all to hear that she cared very little for her, mocked her accent, and wished her the worse. At a New Year’s party, Queen Brandye demanded she bow to her, and when Luca refused she called her an “insolent little girl” and had her dragged out by guards only for King Frederick to relent and let her back in after she cried.

To the people of Graza, Luca Breacher would disappear suddenly in 1763 and it would be a relief to many. Especially Queen Brandye. But the changes in King Frederick were evident. He would not take another paramour and if he did sleep around there were instances where he’d have scratch marks on his cheek the next day. When asked by Prince Sebastian where they came from, he once said, “I found a Kellish lioness and I’m afraid she won’t let me go.”

Even with Luca Breacher gone from the public, the damage had been done. Queen Brandye and King Frederick’s marriage never repaired. He would outright yell at her in public when she complained, he fired all of her Gegraen ladies as Prince Toli grew older and spoke more Geg than he did Escan. He would take her authority over the education and care of her children out of her hands completely. Queen Brandye would refuse to be seen with him until he “repented for his whoredom”.

Queen Brandye became recluse and bitter but in truth, she was isolated. Her beginning had been comfortable. She’d been surrounded by friends that traveled with her from Geg, had a husband who was comfortable speaking a language they shared, and although was seen as an oddity, was not so poorly received. But in the second half of her marriage, she could still barely speak Escan and was now surrounded by people who only spoke it and mocked her for her inability. Her husband did not speak to her at all and when he did, it was during their fights. And she was now known as the queen who’d almost gotten into physical altercations with a mistress. And was considered a hypocrite for doing so considering her upbringing and earlier interactions with paramours.

In her own way, Queen Brandye did try to repair the relationship but King Frederick seemed strictly against her. He did not want to be near her and was in secret talks with Prince Sebastian about the possibilities of being granted a divorce.

He would not need one. In 1768, he and Queen Brandye would journey around some towns in Escan to grace the opening of schools he’d built. They would both get sick but while King Frederick would recover, Queen Brandye would not be so lucky. By the time they returned to Graza, she would be near death and choking on her own lungs.

King Frederick would spend the most time he had with her in years when she lay on her deathbed but when she took her last breath, the stories would say he’d be married again within the week to a woman who had never disappeared at all.

#my writing #my characters #tss trilogy #yes #I know this is long #it covers 9 years of marriage tho #And Brandye has a lot of relevant backstory that needs to be told #and also can't ignore the introduction of our girl Luca

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lukeskywaker4ever · 5 years

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The Tomb of King João I of Portugal and Queen Phillipa of Lancaster

In the central part of the Founder’s Chapel is the conjugal tomb of the founding King, D. João I and D. Filipa de Lencastre on top of eight lions.

This tomb belongs to a new "type" of tombs, where there is a tendency for greater naturalism, a growing concern with regard to the treatment of the human figure; In this way, this tomb presents the statues of the king and queen as if they were to be seen from above.

The King is presented with his warrior armor and sword in hand.

The Queen is in a cloak, with the bible in one hand and the other holding her husband's hand. This type of marital tombs is of English influence.

It is a large tomb and, contrary to tradition, does not have the faces populated with images of saints or biblical scenes, but only, and on each side respectively in Latin, the epitaphs of the king and queen, referring to their merits and actions.

On King João I side:

He speaks of a king "serene, and always convinced, victorious, magnificent, in enlightened virtues" and also "the first among all Christians, who after the general loss of Spain, was lord of the famous city of Ceuta in Africa". He also notes his city and year of birth (although the year is not the correct one, since he writes 1358 and not 1357), and the fact that he was armed knight at the age of five (although many historians say he was at age seven). remembers his government of Lisbon after D. Fernando's death, defending it from the siege of the king of Castile, his raising as king in Coimbra, the great victory in the pitched battle over Castile, followed by the conquest of many castles from which the enemies had taken over. Returns the praise of other fatherly acts, such as the change from the Caesar Age to the Christ Age, the liberation from the kingdom of debauchery, imposing virtue. He writes about Ceuta's conquest once again, noting the names of the infants who accompanied him. Also about the death of King João I on 14 August 1433 surrounded by his sons and much of the nobility, commemorating the 18th and 8th day of the conquest of Ceuta, and exactly 48 years of the victory over Castile, the famous Battle of Aljubarrota.

It emphasizes the translation of D. João's body "with great honor and majesty", accompanied by his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. He concludes by speaking of the second translation to the Founder's Chapel, and now the presence of the women of the royal family: Queen D. Leonor of Aragon, D. Isabel, wife of Infante D. Pedro, and D. Isabel, wife of Infante D. João .

On the Queen Philippa side:

On the side of his mother, D. Filipa, he gives great notoriety to her family, the royal family of the mighty English nation. He then writes of D. João's marriage to D. Filipa, and then writes of her virtues and costumes: pious but enlightened, even ennobling the prelates, her husband's lover, exemplary mother, charitable to the Church, friendly to with the poor, the lady who cared for their maidens, prepared them for marriage, the friend of the people, the just, the defender of peace among Christians. By his life and teaching he was a guide and exemplary of "well married" and still master,discreet grace and gallantry, of courtly art. She received sacraments at the time of her death and reminded each son of their good doing. Deceased on July 19, 1415, she was buried in the predivary of Odivelas monastery. On October 9, 1416, being exhumed. "Her whole body was found without corruption, and was accompanied by a sweet smell," having been transferred to the Monastery of Batalha by her husband King João I, her children, prelates, friars, court nobles, maidens, and deposited on 15 October in the main chapel of the monastery. Subsequently, in 1434 she was transferred to the Founder's Chapel and royal tomb together with her husband.

At the head of the tomb, above the heads of the royal couple, are two canopies, with the once-polychrome coat of arms of the King and Queen and the Order of the Garter cross with the inscription “honny soit qui mal y think”. All around there is a frieze ornamented with foliage stylizations and where you can read D. João I's motto “Pour bien” and that of his wife “Il me plait”.

#royal tombs #king joao i of portugal #queen philippa of lancaster #founders chapel #batalha monastery #portugal #reblog

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shannaraisles · 5 years

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Comfort & Ploy - Chapter 3

Carver Hawke needs a girlfriend for the festive season. Filipa Trevelyan needs an excuse not to spend Satinalia with her parents. Best friends pretending to be lovers … what could possibly go wrong?

[Read on AO3]

*****

Waking from a good night's sleep after a long day was always a good feeling. Especially this morning, Filipa lazily reflected as she slowly surfaced to consciousness. Usually her apartment was frozen, so she was huddled tight beneath layers of blankets, but this morning, she was toasty warm.

Almost too warm, actually. She yawned, tilting her head as the precursor to rolling onto her back, only to realize that she couldn't actually move. That the firm pillow beneath her head was not only warm, but radiating heat, rising and falling in a slow, comforting rhythm. That the wrap of the blanket around her shoulders was not actually a blanket at all, but a firm, well muscled arm, holding her close to an equally firm, well muscled chest.

Sweet Maker, she'd cuddled up to Carver in the night. And he'd let her! He was cuddling her back and ... Andraste's knickerweasels ... her leg was thrown right over his hips, her body pressed so close to his she might as well have been inside his pajamas with him.

She should have been absolutely mortified. She should have rolled away as quickly and gently as possible. A friend wouldn't let their friend wake up in this kind of compromising position, especially when she knew he would blush as red as the fire engines he drove on a daily basis back home. But ... there was a but. There had never been a but before. Not only that; she was deliberately not thinking about what that but might be.

She hazarded a wary tilt of her head to look up at his sleeping face. He was such a handsome man, she reflected. She'd always known it. You couldn't be friends with Carver Hawke without being very aware that women had a tendency to make fools of themselves trying to get his attention. He'd never given them more than the time of day, though. Filipa had initially assumed he wasn't interested in women, but had learned later in their friendship that he was actually terrible at talking to women he fancied. If he could get laid without having to speak at all, it would be so much better for all concerned.

Filipa stopped that thought abruptly, aware that there was a sudden sharp pang in her chest at even the possibility of Carver finding anyone attractive enough to overcome his inability to talk like a human being to a pretty girl. She frowned, absently focusing on the beat of his heart beneath the palm of her hand, marveling at how steady both it and his breathing were, even when she was wrapped around him so completely. She'd be lying if she said she had never found him attractive - Maker knew she had wasted plenty of daydreams on him during the first months they had known one another - but it had never come to anything. That was why she had felt safe in agreeing to help him fool his brother this Satinalia.

She sighed softly, rolling her eyes at herself. Great, just great. You promised it wasn't going to get weird, and now it's weird. Good going, Pip.

Well, she could at least do the decent thing and untangle herself before he woke up. With careful, gentle movements, she drew her leg back from its rest over his body, delicately loosening the grip of his arm about her shoulders. But as she moved to roll away, he rolled with her, big strong arms wrapping close about her body once again to pull her back close to his chest, fitting the long line of his body to hers with a sleepy mumble.

Filipa swallowed hard, trying not to shiver at the sensation of his breath against the back of her neck, or the warm, liquid warmth that was gathering, unbidden, deep in her belly. Shit. There was no getting out of this particular embrace, not without waking him up. She was just going to have to forge through the awkwardness for his sake. It wasn't his fault she had suddenly realized for the second time that he was pretty much everything she could ever wish for in a man.

He nestled closer into her neck, sleeping lips brushing her skin, and she felt the blush begin to paint her body, starting from somewhere around her naval and rushing upward to cast her face in shades of delighted, ashamed rose. Worse, the arm he had wrapped from beneath her neck bent further around her, one large hand closing with unconscious possession about her t-shirt-clad breast.

"Mmm ..."

Abruptly, she silenced that unconscious moan with a sharp intake of breath, shocked at herself and, if she was honest, more than a little turned on by Carver's sleeping affection. She never would have guessed he was a hugger in his sleep, but then, they had never shared a bed before. This was new territory for both of them.

She was not going to take advantage of him, though. Steeling herself, Filipa gently slid her hand between his palm and her breast, carefully unfolding his arm until it lay flatter against the bed. The other, she just as gently eased from about her waist, slowly inching forward until she could clamber out of the bed without waking him. Breathing a sigh of relief, she looked back at her sleeping companion, and watched as he groped for her for a moment before gathering her pillow into his arms and burying his face into it. It was such an endearing sight that, for a moment, she forgot to breathe normally, eventually forced to inhale or pass out.

"Get yourself together, Pip," she muttered harshly, turning away so that she was not tempted to watch him sleeping any longer. "You're his beard, that's all. Best friends is better than no friends at all."

Catching up her clothes, she headed for the bathroom, determined to sort her head out for the day to come so that Carver need never know just how much she had enjoyed waking up next to him.

By the time they arrived at her sister's house a few hours later, Filipa was fairly sure she had herself under control. Carver didn't seem to be any the wiser about her gloriously unexpected sexual awakening as far as he was concerned, which was just as well. She knew she was acting a little out of character, a little shyer than usual, but he hadn't commented on it. In fact, he seemed far more relaxed today than he had yesterday, an attitude that resulted in them stamping up onto the Rutherfords' porch with his arm slung about her shoulders. It was so easy to pretend with him ... too easy, she realized. Because it wasn't a pretense, for her. This is so bad. I am a bad person.

Thankfully, Mila had plans for them, roping them both into helping set up the festive tree with Alys directing things from the middle of the living room, except when she wanted to get hands on, in which case Carver was enlisted to hold the little girl up as high as she wanted to go to "fix" the decorations they had been putting up.

"So," Mila said, after pulling her little sister into the kitchen for a moment, "how long have you been seeing each other? You were kind of evasive yesterday, you know."

Filipa rolled her eyes.

"Because I don't see how the length of a relationship should reflect on its strength," she countered, determined to continue being as vague as she possibly could be. "You were technically only seeing Cullen for a couple of months before you moved in with him and Alys."

"We'd been writing to each other for a year," Mila argued. "And my relationship has nothing to do with yours. You are my darling little sister, and in order to be sure you are being treated like the goddess you deserve, I need to know all the details."

"Translation - you are desperate for gossip you can lord over Ksenia and Mama," was Filipa's sardonic reply.

"That, too." Mila was nothing, if not honest, flashing her sister a grin to soften the reality. "You seem pretty comfortable with each other, I have to admit," she went on. "Last night must have been quite the night, though. I don't think I've seen you stare this much at a boy since you were fifteen."

"And I'm going to stop you right there," Filipa said quickly, though she couldn't stop the blush from rising again. That was hardly going to convince Mila she was wrong. "What does or does not happen in bed does not need to be shared with the world."

"I feel like this was a bad time to come into the kitchen," Carver said from the doorway, hovering with a faintly embarrassed look on his face.

"No, your timing is perfect," Filipa assured him, moving away from her sister to join Carver in the doorway.

That turned out to be a very bad move.

"Mistletoe!" Alys exclaimed with absolute delight.

Filipa turned her head to find the little girl bouncing up and down on her toes, waving her hand excitedly at the mantle above them. With a sinking feeling, she followed the line of that happy hand, and sighed. Yes, of course, there had to be a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the kitchen doorframe. She should have known there would be some in this house - it was one of Alys' favorite stories about Mila and Cullen getting together, the day she had all but forced them to kiss under the mistletoe. Mila snorted with laughter, but did nothing to call her daughter off as the little girl skipped forward.

"You have to kiss, it's a law," Alys insisted. "It's not like you don't kiss normally, 'cos you're all smoochy like Mum and Dad."

Filipa lifted her eyes to Carver's, seeing the panic hidden mostly deep in his gaze. Oh,bugger. They'd discussed this possibility, they'd agreed they could do it if they absolutely had to. But that had been before she had woken up in his arms and realized that she was quite probably in love with her best friend.

To her surprise, however, he seemed to swallow down that brief moment of panic, a small smile quirking at his lips as he glanced down at Alys.

"One small peck do you?" he asked.

The little redhead frowned, hands on her hips.

"That's not a kiss you give someone you love," she insisted firmly.

"It's the kind of kiss you give your Dad," Filipa pointed out, jumping on this as a last desperate hope.

"But Carver's not your Dad, he's your squeeze," Alys countered in her adorably stubborn way.

"She's got you there," Mila said from the kitchen. "And you're spending too much time with Isabela, Nuglet."

"You have to kiss under the mistletoe," Alys went on, ignoring her mother's commentary from the other side of the couple she wanted to see some real affection from. "It's a rule. Something bad happens if you don't."

"Well, we can't have anything bad happening to your Auntie Pip," Carver agreed.

Filipa stared at him, genuinely shocked that he seemed so calm in the face of this blatant bullying from a child. He caught her stare, his own smile more reassuring than she could have expected, reaching out to tug her a little closer by the belt loops on her jeans.

"Maker, anyone would think you'd never kissed before!"

Mila's laugh made Filipa blush, but it did remind her that she owed Carver the benefit of keeping up appearances. She could handle this. Right?

Forcing herself to relax, she rolled her eyes, rising up onto her toes to meet him as he bent down to her. For just a moment, she almost hesitated, but Carver didn't. His lips touched hers softly, just the barest brush, before claiming her mouth with a firm, gentle kiss that sent butterflies spiraling through her body. She responded without thinking, curling her hands to his wide biceps as his hands found somewhere to rest on her back, forcing herself not to give into the glorious sensation of being kissed by Carver Hawke. Just a mistletoe kiss, nothing to get worked up over, she told herself, deliberately drawing back before she could get lost in that sensation.

Alys cheered, clapping her hands together happily, and threw her arms around both of their waists in a slightly self-congratulatory hug. Filipa snorted with laughter, automatically wrapping one arm about the little girl as Carver's hands dropped from her own back.

"That was ... weird," he murmured.

Weird. The bubble burst instantly. She had promised him this would not get weird, and here they were. It was weird, and she was pretty sure it was her fault. She shouldn't have let herself respond so eagerly to that kiss; she should have let him lead it and end it on his own terms.

"It's always weird when an eleven-year-old forces you to kiss in public," Mila assured Carver cheerfully. "Come and have a cup of coffee, you'll get over it. And no more bullying people, little miss, or I'm going to have to forget where I put the cocoa again."

"Awww ..."

Alys' complaint brought a smile back to Carver's face, at least, both of them stepping back to let the little girl muscle between them to join her mother at the kitchen island. Filipa let out a long breath, rubbing a hand through her hair. She was going to have to try harder to keep this from getting weirder.

"Wasn't a bad kind of weird," Carver added, throwing her an almost teasing grin before stepping away to join her sister for the promised coffee.

And despite herself, Filipa felt a faint flare of hope at that comment, her own smile returning as she shuffled after him, catching Alys by the waist to lift her up onto the counter and tickle the little mischief-maker for her part in that awkward exchange. So weird didn't necessarily mean bad. That was good to know.

#comfort & ploy #dragon age #modern au #dear friend universe #carver hawke #filipa trevelyan #mila rutherford #alys rutherford #waking up together #realizing feelings #friends to lovers #fake relationship #mistletoe kiss

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juniorformulamotorsport · 5 years

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Sunday, 14th July 2019 – The Yeatman, Vila Nova de Gaia

Sunday night was the blow out meal of the weekend, a 2 Michelin-starred tasting menu in what might be the best hotel in the area, the Yeatman. First, however, we stopped off for a drink in Porto before getting a taxi across to Vila Nova de Gaia. In our search for a good place to get a drink, we stumbled upon the Livraria da Baixa, another of the ex-bookshops that have become other things over the years. There seems to be quite a bit of that going on in Porto. We had yet another porto tonico, and this one was different again. The barman asked us which one we liked best, but they were all good in their own ways.

After we’d finished our drinks we headed to the Intercontinental and asked the concierge to find us a taxi to the Yeatman. It didn’t appear, after all, to be the sort of place we wanted to fetch up in looking all sweaty and dishevelled! Also, we wanted to get there a little early so we could have a second round of drinks in Dick’s Bar up there. We’d heard it had excellent views. The taxi pulled up and several uniformed doormen appeared to hold doors open and point the way for us.

It’s very nice! We were escorted in, shown to the restaurant, and asked if we could start the evening in the bar. We were soon installed in a table on the terrace overlooking the river and it is certainly reasonable to say they have a view. As well as the river, and Porto opposite, you get a view of the gardens and the swimming pool – the latter appeared to be full of seagulls using it as a giant birdbath. Perhaps they have a better class of seagull at the Yeatman. Who knows!

Armed with a port cocktail each we dragged our attention away from the seagulls, and towards the view. The weather was not as clear as we might have liked, but the vista is still pretty impressive, even without sunshine and blue skies. I rather imagine in fine weather it would be gorgeous.

The port cocktails were pretty good too!

We decided it was best not to have a second round, and instead moved across to the restaurant to start dinner. There is only the tasting menu (at €170 per person), but if, as we did, you reserve online, this is emailed to you along with your confirmation so you can let the restaurant know if there is anything you don’t eat. In our case it was the pork option, so we let them know and then relaxed into the evening, knowing we’d be well looked after. I should also say that the restaurant has great views, but we weren’t on a window table (I assume those probably go to people actually staying at the hotel), so I only got a photo at the end of the evening.

The first thing that happened, given the Yeatman is part of the Taylor’s port group, was that we were offered a glass of white port as an aperitif while we looked at the menu to make sure it was still to our liking, and we checked the wine list and decided on that or the matching wines chosen by the restaurant for an extra €75 for 6 different wines). The wines in question can also all be bought through the Yeatman Wine Club so it was really easy to establish what we’d had for once. The aperitif was a glass of Churchill’s Dry White which is rather more sweet than the name implies, though it still has a good, dry finish and peppery notes that would probably mean it’s good with cheese too. It worked very well in the heat, well chilled as it was, even if taking a good sniff of it left condensation all over the glass!

Before the first course of the tasting menu arrived, our first glass of wine was delivered, a Filipa Pato 3b Rosé (https://www.theyeatmanwineclub.com/en/espumante-filipa-pato-rose-3b) or more precisely perhaps Filipa Pato & William Wouter 3B Metodo Traditional Rosé, Bairrada, Beiras, Portugal, fresh, elegant, sparkling and just the thing with the parade of amuse bouches that arrived next.

First up, however, was a pair of cool towels for us to freshen up with, which were much welcomed.

The first morsels of food started to appear! And they were good! The first items was described as a Cocktail of apple, spinach and kale (manzana, espinacas y col) and was served with a very fresh bowl of oyster, jalapeños and apples with was fresh from the apples, tasted of the sea and packed a lively punch from the jalapeños.

It was soon joined by a tiny selection of “fish and chips” with two tangles of thinly chipped potato, and a piece of batters fish each. It was both fun and fabulous, and it was quite clear that the kitchen and the chef know what they are doing and have a sense of humour.

The cocktail was delicious (and may be the only way to deal with kale in a way that makes it palatable rather than like trying to eat crispy cardboard)! It was also a slightly alarming shade of green, with sweetness from the apple overlaying a slight cabbage-y bitterness.

The next round was barbeque chicken, and again demonstrated both humour and skill with a chicken sandwich, a smoked chicken oyster in panko breadcrumbs, and a chicken liver mousse, and superb even to those of us who normally avoid chicken (mostly for fear of how it might have been raised, though I rather suspect that the Yeatman is as concerned about provenance as Lynne and I are).

The final round of amuse bouches was tuna-based with a bonito “nitrogeno” that was tartare-style…

And a tuna “sandwich”, with fish roe and mayonnaise wrapped in a nori seaweed sheet. It was a fun thing, full of flavour and it came with its own little dramatic reveal from inside a scroll of paper that the waiter then opened at the table. I was liking this place, because although there is a formality to the Yeatman, there is also a great deal of playfulness, and the staff could not be friendlier.

The sommelier brought the next wine, an Ilha do Pico Arinto 2017, from the Azores and fermented in oak vats for 6 months. The result is incredibly drinkable, especially with seafood, which is where the menu started. It doesn’t look as if it often escapes from the Portuguese speaking world, which is a pity because I really enjoyed it and would like to drink more of it.

It went brilliants with the Gamba Blanca (crayfish) with crab and clams. The crab and clams were in the form of a neat little beignet, and we were encouraged to use our hands to eat it rather than being wussy and using cutlery, neat though the cutlery was.

There was a sauce with it that needed to be scooped up and smeared on the beignet, and it was a positive pleasure to do just that. The dish was described as including chawanmushi, a traditional Japanese appetiser of steamed savoury egg custard and usually full of things like prawns, fish cake, mushrooms and so on so I assume that was what was holding the crab and clam mix together.

The crayfish came separately, carrying on the egg custard theme but being decorated with what the French would probably call mimosa style eggs, coriander and a traditional broth. It was a most excellent portion of shrimp, prawn, crayfish, whatever you want to call it.

We had moved, oenologically, onto a new white wine, this time a glass of Anselmo Mendes Parcela Unica 2016, made from Alvarinho grapes. We got the expected peach, citrus and minerality from it, which went well with the shrimp, and also with the cuttlefish that was brought out next. These were tiny cuttlefish served two ways, with fried rice and with a gloriously unctuous spicy Hollandaise sauce. The first pieces were served an a plate possibly made from a dried cuttlefish, which just made me laugh…

It also tasted good, especially dredged through the spicy Hollandaise sauce.

The other pieces came on a plate decorated with octopus shapes. It seemed a lot of trouble to go to, but then it’s that sort of place.

We knew we’d moved on from fish when the waiters brought us some butter in a very stylish box…

There was also a dish of olive oil, the oil a lovely shade of golden yellow that instantly made me want to dunk some bread in it.

That was made possible when the loaf of sourdough was put in front of us.

We had reached what would usually be the suckling pig course, but the restaurant swapped things round and served us the national beef first. It was a small but perfectly cooked piece, the iron of the rare meet working brilliantly with the roasted spring onion, the Jerusalem artichoke puree, and the rich, deep civet sauce. The meat would probably have fallen apart with just the application of a spoon, but we used our knives, cutting small pieces to try and make it last as long as possible. With it was drank a mighty fine, deep Maria João Private Collection 2008 from the Dão, and made possibly from Alfrocheiro, Aragonez, Touriga Nacional, and Jaen grapes (at least the 2010 was), with notes of chocolate, toasted cocoa, spices and dried red fruits that I definitely picked up.

If the beef and wine combination was good, the replacement for the suckling pig, which came next was sublime. It was the same accompaniments or mango, coconut and chilli, but served with two perfectly cooked pigeon breasts, the skin beautifully seasoned and crsip. We drank a Boavista Reserva 2015. I’ve seen the wine described as “deep ruby colour. Complex, deep, intense and seductive hints of both red and black fruit, plus tobacco, spices and dark chocolate”. I see no reason to disagree with that assessment.

The last of the pigeon was gone, and it was on to the home straight for a dessert or two, starting with wild strawberries (in different textures), including a soup served in a wonderfully complicated drinking vessel. This definitely was essence of strawberries in all their wonderful forms, and it was a brilliant way to complete an excellent meal. Especially with a glass of Adega de Favaios Moscatel Colheita 1999, a sweet white moscatel instead of a port, but made with much the same levels of care, commitment and, dare I say it, obsession to create an ideal dessert wine. The Moscatel Galego grape produces a clear, bright, golden coloured wine, with citrus freshness and honeyed sweetness that matches fruit as well as chocolate. It’s a wonderful wine.

There was also São Tomé chocolate (with toasted corn, toffee, and whipped cream) which came along with the terrifyingly well-stocked petit fours trolley. We resisted the temptation of an offer to let us have a piece of everything on the trolley because I think we’d have needed to be put of trolleys to be taken out to the foyer if we’d done that.

I did weaken and have a tiny doughtnut, and a pastel de nata though, along with a cute little meringue.

We turned down the offer of infusions or coffee and were presented with a copy of the menu each in a lovely sealed envelope, along with a list of the wines we’d drunk. It was a lovely evening, and we were more than happy to get a taxi back to the Intercontinental instead of trying to walk to the metro (which would be doable, but who wantes to after a meal like that, right?)

Food 2019 – The Yeatman, Vila Nova de Gaia Sunday, 14th July 2019 - The Yeatman, Vila Nova de Gaia Sunday night was the blow out meal of the weekend, a 2 Michelin-starred tasting menu in what might be the best hotel in the area, …

#2019 #Bars #Cocktails #Cooking #Dick&039;s Bar #Dinners #Drink #Europe #Food #Food and Drink #Hospitality #Hotels #Porto #Portugal #Restaurants #The Yeatman #Travel #Vila Nova de Gaia #Wine

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