January 23rd, 1882

Andrew Lyness,

I'm unsurprised someone like you has married an animal.

I wonder; are you into freaks, mudblood?

Kind regards,
Mr Benedict Bates

  

January 25, 1882

Terrible Man,My darling husband is by no means near the standard of mud. And I am by no means an animal. I am perfect. You are swine.
With hate,
Mrs. Lyness

  

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Juniper is a veela, your men are cray-cray for her.

Lady made pretties!

January 26th, 1882

"Wife" of the mudblood,

You are absolutely correct, your "husband" is beneath the standard of mud. I can appreciate that clarification.

However, my confusion arises in your attempt at calling me a pig; were you not born of an egg in a forest, as I'm to believe creatures like you are? You are closer an animal than I am a pig, Veela.

You'd be wise to learn your place (that is, back in the wild where you belong).

Yours in kind,
Mr Benedict Bates

  

January 27, 1882

Swine,To truly correct your idiotic assumption, my husband is beyond the standards of any other human in existance, while you are filth, making you quite close to your swine kin.

You are swine-like with your filth covered words, and the ignorance that has muddied your mind. I was born, destined even, to be complete perfection. I am reminded of this every day, by my own actions as well as the reassuring words of those I am closest to.

I belong in civilized society, where I was raised. One belongs in a place that they know and are familiar with, as I am familiar with human culture, not that of the woods. Papa raised me to be a proper lady, with the finest tutors that I rightfully deserve.
With hate,
Mrs. Lyness

  

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Juniper is a veela, your men are cray-cray for her.

Lady made pretties!

January 30th, 1882

"Wife" of the mudblood,

Your alleged husband is nothing more than a slave to your "charm"; you would be foolish to think his "feelings" for you have any merit:- is this not what your species does? Lure unsuspecting men into thinking they have feelings that aren't there?  You needn't answer; of course it is.

You also claim to know of a destiny beyond being the freak that you are, attempting to integrate into a society that does not care for you.

Veela, I wish to assure you now: you will never have a place in society. You must accept this before you can be happy (is that possible?)

Your papa raised a Veela; though, again, it is more likely he was manipulated into doing so than it was of his own free will.

Nota Bene: My apologies for the delay in writing you, I was tending to my family

Yours in kind,
Mr Benedict Bates

  

February 1, 1882

Disgusting Swine,My husband loves me, just as I love him. He is an amazing man and you will never understand his greatness. All you will ever see is your small, pathetic little life. You will forever feel alone and unwanted because you are stupid and write stupid things.

I am by no means a freak. Society is blind, and I do not care about their stupid views. Those of intelligence actually see my perfection, and you are obviously not intelligence. I am very happy, other than while reading your pathetic words.

Papa loves me, long before I became a woman. I am his favorite child, he treats me with a fatherly love, and he is my father, no matter what you say.

I feel bad for your family, they have to suffer being near you. At least my family loves me.
With hate,
Mrs. Lyness

  

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Juniper is a veela, your men are cray-cray for her.

Lady made pretties!

February 7th, 1882

Thing,

Apologies for the delay; I was busy spending time with my wife and three children, enjoying what true love is. I do feel sad you are not to experience that.

You seem to be confusing love with manipulation. A prisoner loves their captor as long as there's food. I presume you can at least cook, Veela?

The very fact that you feel the need to disparage society for your existence suggests to me that you know I am correct.

Your "perfection" lies within the sewers, animal.

Look in a gutter and you shall see your reflection.

Yours in kind,
Mr Benedict Bates

  

February 8, 1882

Pathetic Swine,How pathetic of you. I doubt they love you. You are a terrible person, and no one can love anyone as terrible as you.

I am a proper lady. Cooking is for the staff, which we have plenty of. My husband is not a prisoner, I have never forced him to marry me, he is the one to ask for my hand.

You are wrong, society as a whole is full of idiots, with few who are of intelligent minds, such as my husband. You were not born with this intelligence, as you have made clear.

Only the blind, such as yourself, would not recognize pure perfection, such as I. I do not feel sorry for you. The very fact that you have sent me several letter has even indicated that I am worth everyone’s time, even swine like you.
With pure hatred,
Mrs. Lyness

  

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Juniper is a veela, your men are cray-cray for her.

Lady made pretties!

February 10th, 1882

It,

Please stop with your miserable attempts at insults. They are depressing me.

You claim no one can love me and yet, the facts would suggest otherwise; and he may have asked for your hand, though I can speak with certainty when I say you are most assuredly the one who twisted his hand.

Society is what has given your alleged "husband" his wealth and that is likely the reason you latch onto him like the leech you are.

My time is not taken up by writing you and I can only offer my commendation that you write to me in pure hatred for I cannot lay claim to that feeling for you:

You are not worth any emotion from me, animal.

Yours,
Mr Benedict Bates

  

February 15, 1882

Depressed Pathetic Swine,I am glad for your depressed state. You have earned your suffering.

Fear and discomfort is not love, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you had threatened your wife into marrying you, for the sake of your pride. My husband was only ever shown a proper attitude, followed by love as we courted and married.

I do not need money. Papa would have taken care of me even if, unimaginably, I had become a spinster. And I was raised with him, I never insisted upon him to take care of me. I am no leech, but I assume you leech power and whatever else has given you means of living.

I doubt that I draw no emotion from you. You, the one who started with the childish name calling and belittlement. You, with your nasty words and assumptions. That takes effort and time, time that one would only take if the time and effort was worth it. Don’t deny it, don’t become even more pathetic than you already are.

You have earned no explanation as to why my letter is late.
With pure hatred,
Mrs. Lyness

  

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Juniper is a veela, your men are cray-cray for her.

Lady made pretties!

February 20th, 1882

The thing that lures,

Forgive me, your mindless rambling bored me to no end.

I didn't read what it was you wrote to me.

How does one get so creative with their names, one would ask, were one not talking to someone whom seems to only have 'pathetic', 'disgusting', and 'swine' in their vocabulary?

A mystery, it shall seem.

Sincerely,
Mr Benedict Bates

  

March 2, 1882

Uneducated Filth,Proper woman were never raised to know many insults, except for the rare occurrence such as this. I suppose your wife must talk with vile, uncivilized speech on a daily basis, as you clearly think this is acceptable for all woman of polite society. But how would you know? You are ignorant and would never have gained a proper woman. I suspect the gold digger that you call ‘Mrs Bates’ is a latter climber that you picked up off of the streets. How scandalous.

My vocabulary is very impressive, not that you could possibly understand such things. Unlike your parents, my father hired the best tutors to teach me, as is my right to learn from.
With boredom,
Mrs. Lyness

  

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Juniper is a veela, your men are cray-cray for her.

Lady made pretties!

March 4th, 1882

Freak,

On the contrary, my wife knows not to speak up when she needn't and animal, stop kidding yourself.

You are no more a proper woman than a whore is. That is to say, the fact you believe yourself to be anything more than a vile, freakish creature born of an egg is laughable. One might assume you to be a comic.

And pertaining to my wife; our relationship is one with which you couldn't hope to achieve.

I am sorry to say, that mudblood doesn't love you. He simply lusts over whatever charm you have on him. I daresay, it's much akin to the imperius curse. And that's illegal; Merlin, you ought to be to.

You have no right to learn, Veela. And you'd do best to know any other "rights" you have are only garnered because of your marriage to a wizard (even if he is a mudblood).

Yours in kind,
Mr Benedict Bates

  

March 5th, 1882

How dare you write to my wife like this?! You are a vile, despicable and intolerable excuse for a man who would see the end of my fist if I knew where you were. I come into to my office to see scorch marks everywhere and to find the cause of upset is a prejudiced blood purist - I'm not surprised. You must be very angry at yourself to spend your time writing to a woman instead of being productive. If we receive another owl from you, I will file for harassment You are disgusting.

howler by SabinaDrake, coded by Emily