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#before i go and write more stuff on victorian death practices – @acemapleeh on Tumblr
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aboot fucking shit

@acemapleeh / acemapleeh.tumblr.com

call me ace : 28 : he/they : been drawing this circle for 14 years : putting my anthropolgy major and history minor to good use im sure
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Anonymous asked:

how about some more stuff about the fae?

Always happy to appease the Fair Folk
Summary: A newly acquired colony was now under Arthur’s care. In the month he’s been residing with him in the former French colony, little progress had been made in having the child open up to him. Perhaps some midnight stories of fairies and folklore might bring them a little closer together.
Characters: England, Canada
Word Count: 3265

il était une fois

Montreal, Quebec, Late Summer of 1763

Arthur rubbed at his eyes as he sat back in the wingback that was nowhere near as comfortable as his own back home or even the one in Massachusetts. The fire was still warm as it crackled in its hearth and the rum he brought to his lips was just as sweet and bitter. He hoped his business here could be finished soon. He had finished peace negotiations in Europe months ago, his pride swelling as his empire began to rise above those around him. Come victory came the spoils, including a little boy who was once under Francis’s “care.” Arthur had seen him, no, seen wasn’t the correct word. He caught glimpses of him in the trees and grass, occasionally clinging to Francis’s coattails. The first real look Arthur got of the lad was when he had stood in front of his crumpled guardian.

A boy.

One who didn’t even stand to Arthur’s hip with eyes full of tears stood arms raised to protect a man who barely gave him second thoughts.

He didn’t even know how to respond, the gun that was still raised and aimed slowly lowered in confusion.

The boy’s cheeks were puffed out in an attempt to look strong, that not even the Arctic winds could knock him down. He didn’t utter a single word but Arthur knew he had every intention of protecting the man bleeding behind him.

Arthur had yet to hear a single word from the small child. Even upon proper introductions and taking him under his care, the child would only look at Arthur with icy blue eyes. 

It felt as though no real progress had been made in the month Arthur had been residing in the former French colony. At first, he was simply worried the stupid frog hadn’t taught the boy English but it was clear he understood when Arthur or the housekeeper spoke to him. He had even tried speaking to him in French to try to warrant a response but even that approach proved fruitless.

Matthieu, he knew his name was though he quickly corrected it to Matthew, seemed to be perfectly content wandering the house and garden in silence, staring out into the woods through the cracks in the fence. 

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