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shadowtriovibes · 8 months

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the train ain't even left the station

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: G

Word Count: 2K

Summary: request: "If you're up for it I'd love to see a small lil fic of Sebastian sending his child off to Hogwarts for the very first time! Like maybe Sebastian is telling them about his adventures with Ominis and MC to make the child less nervous or just letting them know how exciting things will be for them :)"

in the same 'verse as "it's a sign of the times" [AO3]

Sebastian sets her down and rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Not too good, alright? It’s worth breaking a few rules every now and then to make a friend, or do what’s right.” “Like how you met Uncle Ominis and he showed you the Undercroft?” she says eagerly. A few feet away, you look up sharply from where you’re hugging Simon goodbye. “Did she just say ‘Undercroft?’” “No,” Sebastian and Anne-Marie say in unison.

September 1, 1910

Suspended overhead in the bustling terminal of King’s Cross Station is a massive clock. Every morning, hundreds of thousands of Londoners – both Muggles and wizards alike, though more often the former – pass underneath the clock as they hurry to catch their trains. Many will casually glance up to ensure they’re still on time as they make their way to work, school, or even the lucky few off on holiday.

As it happens, the first day of September brings countless students to the station on their way to boarding schools all over the U.K., meaning the station stays especially crowded well into the late morning. Worried mums and impatient dads all turn their eyes toward that clock, hoping their sprogs won’t be left on the platform on their very first day of school.

Just as the minute hand slides into place at the very bottom of the clock, a handsome young family emerges from a tiny waiting room positioned at the far end of the terminal.

Hundreds of Muggle men in their funny, black suits and odd little bowler hats have already walked right past the waiting room without sparing it a second glance. In fact, had any of them paused to do so, they would have read a small sign affixed to the door that simply read, “Out of Order.”

But inside that waiting room is a grand fireplace. Not just any fireplace, mind you – one that roared brilliantly twenty-four hours a day, never needs stoking, and, perhaps most importantly, spews out bright green flames.

Sebastian Sallow first exits the waiting room with a precarious cart loaded up with trunks, birdcages, and even some broomsticks of all things. If the Muggles passing by thought anything of the man’s rather odd collection of travel items, no one said a word.

He glances up at the clock and grins.

“Ten thirty,” he says confidently over his shoulder. “See? I told you we wouldn’t be late.”

Beside him is his young wife. Their smallest child, a boy just a few months shy of his fifth birthday, is dozing in her arms. Behind them are their oldest children, a pair of twins, chatting excitedly as they follow their parents toward the barricade between platforms nine and ten.

“Doesn’t it seem a bit redundant to Floo all the way down to London just to put the children on a train back to Scotland?” Sebastian mumbles as your family weaves its way through the flowing crowds.

“Perhaps, but all the children love riding the train,” you remind him fondly. “It’s a Hogwarts tradition, especially for the little ones.”

Having never had the chance to take the Hogwarts Express yourself, you find yourself mildly envious of your eldest children, both of whom will soon be taking their very first journey on the school’s scarlet red steamer train.

“Besides,” you add teasingly. “If I recall, you and Anne met Ominis on your first train ride to Hogwarts, correct?”

“Fine, I suppose you’ve got me there,” Sebastian relents with a soft smile. “I rather think this whole journey will have been worth it if the twins happen to make lifelong friends who save their lives several times over.”

“Do we have to?” your son Simon pipes up, sounding wary. “Because I packed a book I wanted to read.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow at you and gives you a look that reads, He is your son through and through.

“Trying to prove you’re a Ravenclaw already, are you?” Sebastian teases him. “Just like your mum, you are.”

“I’m going to be a Slytherin like you, Daddy!” your daughter Anne-Marie chimes in proudly. “Even Auntie Anne said so!”

You and Sebastian exchange a fond, albeit exasperated look. Ever since Anne (and eventually Sebastian) had accepted the life-limiting curse placed upon her by Rookwood, she’d instead focused on honing types of magic that don’t drain her of her energy or cause her any more pain. She’d found comfort in Divination and has grown into a very powerful Seer, though she often uses her gift to rile up your children with premonitions of being spoiled rotten on their birthday or soundly beating the other village children in their broomstick races.

However, predicting that your mischievous little girl will end up in Slytherin is a fairly safe bet, you imagine.

“I won’t be the least bit surprised if that’s true,” Sebastian says warmly. “But just know your mother and I will love you all the same no matter which house you end up in.”

“Even Hufflepuff?” Simon asks nervously. “Ernest from the village says Hufflepuffs are boring.”

“Don’t forget your Auntie Poppy is a Hufflepuff,” you tease him. “She’s anything but boring!”

That seems to cheer Simon up a bit, but your sweet, slightly shy boy falls back beside you as you get closer to the platform barricade.

“Alright, my love?” you ask him softly.

He reaches for your free hand and squirms up tightly against your side. “It’s really big…”

You size up the high brick archway before you. To the naked eye, it appears as solid as rock, and despite Sebastian’s reassurances that it’s perfectly safe to run straight at it, you imagine you’d be intimidated as well if you were only eleven years old.

“Don’t worry, darling,” you reassure him. “Your father and I will come with you to the platform, you won’t have to go through alone.”

He nods wordlessly and you squeeze his hand. Ever her father’s girl, Anne-Marie takes Sebastian’s arm and the two of them push the wobbly luggage cart straight at the archway, and in the blink of an eye, they’ve vanished.

“See?” you murmur to Simon. “Not so scary, is it?”

With your youngest still propped against your hip, you and Simon walk toward the barricade at a slower pace. You glance around to make sure no Muggles are watching as you slip through the magical brick facade, and then in the blink of an eye you’re on a pack platform surrounded by wizarding families and children in bright, colorful robes.

“Over here!” Sebastian calls out, and you see that he’s pulled the cart right up to the train.

“Help each other with your trunks, just like that,” Sebastian says as Simon and Anne-Marie first carry the trunk marked with an “S.S.” aboard the carriage and then return for the other marked with an “A.M.S.”

Then they carry in their owls – both young tawny birds raised from hatchlings, a gift from their Aunt Poppy. Finally, they return for their brooms, which Sebastian knows for a fact they ought not to have as first years, but he hopes he can talk Headmaster Weasley into looking the other way once they arrive with the intent of trying out for their house Quidditch teams.

(Raising your children in a wizarding village had been quite an eye-opening experience for you. Your twins have been on broomsticks since they could walk, and over the years their godfather Ominis has insisted on making sure they always have the latest model – one for each, so they won’t squabble over sharing.)

You pull Anne-Marie in for a tight hug once the children finish unloading their cart.

“You’ve got everything you need?” you ask her, pretending your voice hasn’t gone thick with tears. “I’ve packed you both some sweets for the ride, remember to share with your new friends, and write to us as soon as you get back to your dormitories please–”

“Yes, Mum,” she says, somewhat impatiently. “We promise we will.”

Anne-Marie kisses her littlest brother goodbye on his chubby cheek, fondly brushing back some of those messy brown curls your husband had given him.

“Why don’t you let your father give you a hug goodbye, sweetheart?” you gently prompt her.

You expect you’re the only one who’s noticed that Sebastian’s eyes have gotten a bit wet as he’d watched his children load up their belongings on the train. Even though he’d likely try to deny it if you prodded him, he sincerely looks like he could use a hug.

As soon as Anne-Marie approaches him with her arms out, Sebastian scoops her up against his chest like he’d often done when she was much smaller – only now her legs nearly touch the floor, and soon he’ll only be able to sway her like this with her feet firmly planted on the ground.

“Have a great term, sweetheart,” he tells her softly. “I can’t wait to hear all about it – even the parts that’ll exasperate your mother.”

“I promise I’ll be good,” she says ruefully.

Sebastian sets her down and rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Not too good, alright? It’s worth breaking a few rules every now and then to make a friend, or do what’s right.”

“Like how you met Uncle Ominis and he showed you the Undercroft?” she says eagerly.

A few feet away, you look up sharply from where you’re hugging Simon goodbye. “Did she just say ‘Undercroft?’”

“No,” Sebastian and Anne-Marie say in unison.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously and decide to leave it be for now, but as soon as you turn away, Sebastian leans down and whispers, “Write to Uncle Ominis and ask him where to find it. It’s a Sallow’s rite of passage.”

“I will,” she says excitedly. “And I’ll bring Simon.”

“Good girl,” he says proudly.

Anne-Marie manages to free Simon from your weepy grasp so that Sebastian can also pull him in for one last hug, reassuring his son he’ll be proud of him no matter which house he eventually calls home. Then the two link arms as they make their way toward the train, climbing up the stairs behind a gaggle of redheaded children (whose surname you could likely guess on the first try).

They settle into a compartment halfway down the carriage. Anne-Marie eagerly presses her face against the glass and makes a silly face at Sebastian, which he delightedly returns. Simon waves goodbye as well and holds up the book he’d packed, showing it off as if to say, “See Mum? We’ll be just fine.”

With your groggy son in your arms and Sebastian’s arm around your shoulders, you watch as the train slowly starts to rumble down the tracks and into the brilliant September sunshine. It’s carrying your children ever closer to your home, and yet further away from you than they’ve ever been.

You hide a few tears against the lapel of Sebastian’s robes; he kindly wipes away the rest with a handkerchief and kisses the redness on your cheeks and nose until you’re smiling once more.

“They’re going to have an incredible year,” he whispers to you. “It’s Hogwarts.”

You simply nod, not trusting yourself to answer without a stray sob slipping out.

Dozens of parents begin to Apparate away from the tracks as soon as the train rounds the corner, but with your youngest, you’ll need to make your way back to the station’s Floo flames to get home safely. This time pushing an empty cart, the three of you slip back through the brick barricade.

“It sure will feel quiet when we get home,” Sebastian says a little sadly.

“We’ve still got the littlest one,” you say softly, cradling your sleeping boy’s cheek as he clings to you through his nap. “He’ll keep us on our toes enough as he gets older.”

“I suppose,” Sebastian sighs, still sounding morose even as he reaches over and gently strokes the back of his fingers down your singleton’s back.

Then he perks up and raises an eyebrow at you. “Or perhaps we could try for a fourth?”

You shoot him a withering glare. “Not on your life, Sebastian Sallow. We’ve just sent the twins off to school, I think that means we should actually get to enjoy some peace and quiet for once.”

(Though when your twins come home for the winter holidays with countless tales of their adventures with new friends and their pockets stuffed full of Zonko’s products, Sebastian gets to be the one to tell them they’ll have a new baby sister the following summer.)

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian x mc #anne sallow #ominis gaunt #IT'S AN OFF TO HOGWARTS KIDFIC TADA

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alonetimelover · 1 year

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Easter Monday

pairing: Harry Styles x slavic(polish)!fem!reader

summary: Harry nad YN are spending their first Easter together, embracing their cultural differences. To celebrate Easter Monday Harry found something very interesting on the internet, hoping to make YN happy, he decided to surprise her with it - id didn't go as planned.

word count: ~1,3k (a little baby)

a/n: so i found out about this holiday in Poland and decided that it would make a fun, fluffy piece for the slavic!reader trope. if i got something wrong, please do tell me!

(another piece of wiriting with a slavic! reader is here > BRITs awards <)

masterlist

When Harry met YN, he promised himself to learn about Polish mores, some words to understand at least a part of what YN was talking about with her family back home and Polish food. Being a pescatarian excluded him from trying quite a few national dishes but YN found enough alternatives for him to eat. He loved it (or so he told YN).

Here he was, on Easter Sunday evening, researching Polish mores during Easter. For the first time in their relationship, they decided to spend those holidays together at Harry’s home in London.

The cultural differences were noticeable. YN didn’t grow up with Egg hunting on Sunday morning, but with going to church on Saturday to have food sacred. On Sunday morning there was an Easter breakfast - eggs (so many colourful eggs), the sour rye soup (yes, soup for breakfast) served in a round bread bowl, variable meat on the cold platter and, most importantly, cakes - mazurek and babka. Harry felt that he’d especially love those cakes.

Harry growing up didn’t do much for Easter. He enjoyed sleeping in for a few days, hunting eggs on Sunday and then going on with his life. His family never attached much importance towards Easter - they used those days for family time, hosting board games’ tournaments with a feast happening in the dining room.

So saying that YN’s way of celebrating was a shock for Harry was easily not enough.

“You want to celebrate the way that I’m used to?” She asked him two months before Easter.

“Yes.” He kissed her knuckles. “I want to spend it the way you always do. We’ll paint those colourful eggs and then eat this big breakfast.”

“Pisanki, those are the colourful eggs. And that big breakfast is almost not edible for you.”

“Because of meat?” YN nodded her head. “Well, then we’ll go to the local market and buy some plant based alternatives. Polish Easter breakfast with a twist. What do you say?”

“I love it.”

That was what they had done.

Harry invited his mother, sister and her fiancé to celebrate with them. All of them sat down with brushes and paint, and decorated the eggs. YN prepared the breakfast - with plant based sausage, and with two cakes baked just the way her grandma did, while Harry was responsible for taking care of the guests, saying “I’m so sorry, but I know, I’ll just ruin whatever you’re doing there, my love."

Everybody enjoyed breakfast, agreeing that soup being present was a mistake, but wasn’t untasty. Cakes did a furore - Anne asked for a recipe and Gemma promised to beg for them constantly. YN was happy that people appreciated her culture.

And when people left, just mere two hours ago, Harry and YN tidied up in the house and she went to sleep, he, on the other hand sat in front of his computer, searching. ‘What Poles do on Easter Monday?’ was a question tapped into a search bar. After clicking the first website linked, with a shock appearing on his face, eyebrows raising higher and higher with each word read, Harry stood up and went to the bedroom. He needed to visit a park tomorrow’s morning to get what was needed.

The next day YN woke up to a cold bed, which was more than expected - Harry was an early bird (woke up as early as 5 am) when YN liked to sleep until at least 6:30. After doing her morning stretches and going to the bathroom, she moved downstairs to start on the breakfast. Harry usually waited for her, so they could eat together and talk about their plans for a day.

“Harry! Baby! I’m making coffee, you want some?” She called into an (probably) empty house.

While not getting an answer, she went to the kitchen starting Harry’s fancy coffee machine. She needed caffeine.

It was strange that Harry didn’t leave any note, saying where he had gone. Nothing on the fridge, or under a fruit basket and no text either. She started to get worried when halfway through her first meal of the day Harry’s plate was still full and slowly getting cold.

Over the speakers, YN listened to Lana Del Rey’s album Ultraviolence, singing silently under her nose. She didn’t hear the back door slowly open and close. She didn’t hear the steps nearing her body. Most importantly, she didn’t hear the movement of the bucket full of water being directed at her.

“Ah!” She screeched when the cold water covered her whole body. From the top of her head to her toes, there was no dry spot. She was soaked and not in a good way.

“Happy śmigus-dyngus day!” Harry screamed, unconsciously murdering the language with a smile on his face, and started to hit YN with pussy willow branches.

“Harry! Are you out of your mind?” YN asked, trying to simultaneously flick the water from her face and catch the branch that had been continuously hitting her upper arm. “Harry, stop it!”

“What?” He asked, confused, stopping mid-air. “Why did you stop me? It’s a tradition!”

The ligt bulb switched on in YN's mind. She understood, for a moment looking at Harry with an open mouth and big eyes. “ Oh God!” She finally laughed. “Oh my God!”

“What - what is going on?”

“Harry, did you - did you find about this day on the internet?”

“Yes, obviously. Where would I get information about something like this from?” He still couldn’t comprehend the tradition that he was taking part of. What was the point of it?

“Maybe me. Someone that actually celebrates it?” YN prompted.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Harry said quietly, putting down the bucket and moving around the kitchen to get YN a clean tower.

“Listen - thank you -” she responded, after getting the towel, “- people don’t do it like this anymore.” She began drying herself off. “There is no hitting with branches. And not only boys are throwing water - it’s not gender-driven.”

Harry sat down in front of YN, getting sad.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised, clasping her hands in his. “I - I just wanted to do something that would make you feel like people around you know what you celebrate and do on specific holidays. ‘Supposed to be a surprise. Didn’t work. I’m sorry.” he kissed her knuckles, looking at her like a lost puppy. His eyes big and a little pout present on his lips.

“And I appreciate it so much.” She pecked his pout away, making him smirk. “These holidays, you've made me feel like I was back home. it means the most to me. Just didn’t like getting bitten up with a pussy willow.”

“Not a fan?” Harry’s smirk getting more daring.

“Not really. When it comes to Easter Monday, I’ve always just splashed people with water and called it a day. Well, when my cousins and I were younger, we used to just pour water on each other from the garden hose. It was entertaining. But always doing it outside of the house.” YN gave Harry a look towards the wet floor. “If not, we were cleaning not only the water but the whole house.”

“Am I going to be doing the same?” Harry asked with the same smirk from before, he enjoyed it.

“Yep. Absolutely.” YN stood up rapidly and moved to the closet to give Harry a mop. “Chop, chop!”

With a laugh, Harry gripped the mop and started cleaning. Unfortunately for him, the bucket he used was voluminous, and the amount of water on the floor was significant. While looking for the bucket to wring out the excess water, Harry lost his focus. Suddenly, his whole body started shivering from the cold liquid dripping from his head and down to the floor.

“Happy śmigus-dyngus day!” YN laughed at Harry.

Quickly enough, they both were running around the backyard - most clothes discarded in a run - under the rain of water from the garden hose. YN felt like a careless child again, and Harry decided just then he always wanted to see her that happy.

Sometimes misinformation on the internet could lead to good times, he thought. But only sometimes.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #slavic!reader #polish!reader #harry styles

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sadtonight · 2 years

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"...pizza time"

Summary: you craved pizza at ludicrous hour so you dialed nearest 24/7 pizza house. Alas when you took the first bite, the lights lit up in the kitchen. You were caught red-handed by someone...!

Characters: first year students;

Warnings: unhealthy food practices (guilty....), reader is gender neutral, reader is from the same dorm as the boys, could be viewed platonic or romantic;

Side notes: it's freaking 3 am, gosh...but I finished it quicker than I expected, ha! I love tasty food if you couldn't tell. Shout-out to my hometown pizza house chain, you are always staying in my heart 💙

Ace

— just as your eyes adjusted to sudden brightness, you immediately identified the person standing at the doorway near the light switch but it didn't really elevate your panic. No, in fact the feeling turned into chagrin upon casting a look at the witness's face: it was Ace;

— you would not feel so down if he came at any hour except for this one, precisely because you were in a predicament which red eyed male undoubtedly would use to his advantage;

— you froze at place whereas Ace approached the kitchen counter where flat cardboard box was laying, took a slice of a still hot pizza and bitten off half of the piece all the while making complains about you not informing him about ordering pizza but not ever once asking why doing so in the dead of night;

— he ate another two pieces murmuring word "yummy" and clasped his hands together to get rid of crumbs. Ideally, your dormmate going back to sleep was something you hoped to happen but despite your mental prayers to the Seven, Ace gave you a smile and expectant look;

— "Well, this was delicious but next time I'm choosing pizza, okay? Your treat of course, if you don't want to sleep hungry with a collar around your neck~" Ace cooed cheekily and left you alone with leftovers. Unsure if the defeat effected the food more than your mood, as it went cold by that time, you let out a sigh;

— now your head was stuffed with thoughts on how to get back at Ace instead of pizza in front of you, because extortion won't be only on his part. In the meantime you are deciding on which restaurant or café ginger was going to take you for the next few days when you cook up and execute revenge plan.

Deuce

— when the door opened, you accidentally crammed the whole pizza slice into your mouth while completely forgetting about about it being pipping hot, making you choke and tear up in seconds. Because of this, you couldn't let out any coherent sounds so instead it was half asleep Deuce who let a frightened yelp;

— poor boy have started loudly apologizing for interrupting without even realising what was he interrupting in the first place but you promptly gestured him to be quite by feverishly pressing your index finger to your lips and shaking your head to the sides;

— eventually, Deuce closed the kitchen doors so the two of you would not cause any more disturbance to the whole Heartslabyul dorm and, most importantly, its dorm leader;

— he apologized yet again but for another reason and quietly this time. He felt incredible guilt watching you look so miserable: sour expression and lowered shoulders, your tongue hurting from the burn and little to no desire to continue your night feast;

— blue haired boy promised to take you somewhere in order to make up for him startling you (there goes his allowance). It's just Deuce had unfortunately took up Ace's habit of eating at night so he wanted to grab a cookie and go back to sleep right away;

— that being said, he was still hungry, thus you let him eat a few slices because you wouldn't be able to taste the pizza or any food for a while anyways...

Jack

— today wasn't Jack's day at all: headache after headache. First he watered his potted cacti by mistake. Then some jerk yanked on his tail in the busy crowd and beastman tried chasing down the culprit only to be late for Crewel classes and getting extra work that held Jack back from his track club activities;

— and to add more annoyance first year forgot to take his water bottle since he was rushing to sport's field to do at least something. All of the incidents leading to Jack waking up in the middle of the night to get another glass of cool water from the kitchen;

— unlike other boys, wolf boy already knew by the scent alone that not only there was someone in the kitchen but they were also making or eating delicious smelling food which made it impossible to distinguish who was occupying the room;

— what Jack did not expect was to see you holding a slice of pizza tilted to the side and topping sliding off onto the floor while you locked eyes with his. You appeared to look like a deer caught in the headlights rather than his fellow dormmate;

— you gradually regained your composure and offered him some pizza to which weird out Jack refused. The scene that unfolded played before his eyes when he went back to bed, unanswered questions keeping him awake for some time;

— next morning beastman saw Ruggie poking around the kitchen in search of pizza leftovers for the reason that he stumbled upon pizza topping on the floor earlier, but Jack decided not to rat you out this time.

Epel

— ... this guy didn't even notice you initially. When you are lurking past beauty sleep hours you are bound to be quiet as a mouse and fully alert in case Pomefiore heads show up. If you are caught red-handed you have to either prepare an apology with explanation or make a run for it;

— in your case, you stopped on your tracks when you heard barely audible footsteps becoming increasingly louder. Panic shot straight into your limbs as you closed the box and run up to corner next to the door and held your breath. You weren't wolfing down a veggie salad after all!

— thankfully a mop of lavender hair came into view, it stopping before the fridge and getting some milk. Epel took a swing right from the bottle making you let out a snort that you tried to cover with your free hand;

— boy in question choked a little and instantly tore his face from the bottle with "what in tarnation?!", whirling his head in the dark towards your direction;

— you explained through your chuckles that you grew hungry and decided to get some fast food in spite of it being way past midnight;

— Epel grew curious as he has never tried real pizza before and only saw it in the commercials. You beaconed the boy to come closer and take a few slices when all of the sudden the lights switched on and all too familiar disapproving tsk tsk could be heard right beside both of you...

Sebek

— the loudest of them all! The whole dorm could hear half fae rushing in to investigate foreign sounds in the kitchen, sword and magic wand ready to strike the potential threat;

— Sebek felt relief and irritation wash over him simultaneously upon spotting you peacefully eating pizza. On the off chance he inquired if it was you going out through the main doors to get the delivery to which you replied positively;

— you see, it wasn't the first time something like that had happened, but it was instead with Lilia who often ordered food in the dead of night. This fact didn't convince knight in training to be more lax or loosen his guard but at least he stopped insisting on Malleus getting to safety each time Sebek suspecting danger;

— first year found your impromptu night snacking to be childish and got somewhat offended when you innocently suggested taking a slice;

— he can't be eating this unhealthy human food! He has to be in proper shape to serve his masters!! Although the smell and look of the dish was devilishly appealing, Sebek couldn't yield to mere fast food;

— ...the urge, however, was way stronger than half fae anticipated, making male retreat back to his room while munching the remains of tasty delicacy with the regret of not taking another piece lingering in the back of his mind.

#twisted wonderland headcanons #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #ace trapolla x reader #deuce spade x reader #jack howl x reader #epel felmier x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader

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sirenjose · 4 months

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Analysis of Anne (Annie) Lester

Annie’s mother came from a “wealthy British family” (likely a merchant family based on Annie’s backstory), while her father was a “nameless painter”. He was likely Czech as Annie’s original backstory mentions being either born into a Czech family or growing up in the Czech Republic.

Whether or not she actually lived in the Czech Republic, her father fell in love with her mother (Wendy), who he apparently saw as his “muse”. Based on what he says to Annie later and how he wants her to be, he apparently loved/admired Wendy due to her “ladylike demeanor”/”lady’s bearing”, “talent”, and beauty, while Annie’s trailer also uses the words “dignified, decent, elegant”.

Wendy really looking forward to Annie’s birth based on the baby room and wooden toys that she purchased for Annie. Unfortunately, she dies on November 29th due to hemorrhaging during Annie’s birth.

Annie’s father is very upset over her death, and even more so due to his view that Annie failed to adequately replace her in terms of talent, beauty, personality, and behavior. Due to this viewpoint, he likely was very strict on Annie, who he likely attempted to train and educate her on how to properly act like a lady and everything else he saw as necessary to be a lady.

This left Annie only 1 hour of free time a day. Only 1 hour where she was allowed to be in the baby room and play with the toys all left by her mother. Only 1 hour where she was allowed to “be herself”. Annie was clearly unhappy over how her father was trying to make her act and behave. Annie loved her mother but she could not perfectly replace her. She was her own person, a person that wasn’t the sort of perfect lady her father wanted her to be. But she had no choice while she still lived with her father, who showed little to no love to Annie due to her continued failure to be ladylike enough to replace her mother. So she used that 1 hour to escape from reality into her own fantasy world.

1 of the toys in that room is said to be “wings for gliding” with it seeming like “its owner was planning an escape with limited materials available”. It is possible she wanted to use these to escape her father, but for now I’m assuming she built them as part of her fantasy rather than actually used them to escape, but it’s hard to know for sure.

As Annie grew up, suitors attempted to woo her, though they were not the good type as her backstory describes them as “unscrupulous womanizers hoping to live a carefree life supported by her riches”. This had to do with the fact that, after Wendy’s death, Annie stood to inherit “50% of her estate, including property assets, when she comes of age”. They weren’t the only ones interested in Annie’s inheritance, as her own father, who likely had no real love or care left for Annie after this long, likely decided this money was the only thing of value left regarding Annie.

1 of the suitors Annie meets feels to her to be the perfect man. Considering her trailer mentions “The beautiful flowers, the adoration of the crowd, a gorgeous dress, and a seemingly perfect fiancé” as well as used the word “grandeur”. This could mean she was forced to act like a noble lady, likely including attending parties, which is where she met all these suitors, including the one she fell in love with.

Based on the fact Annie in her deductions says “He seems to know me well. Most importantly, he accepts me despite my shortcomings”, it almost seems less like Annie was interested in marrying and instead simply sought someone who offered her real love with no strings attached. Someone who loved her for who she was rather than desired her to be someone she wasn’t and didn’t want to be. After growing up under a strict father who showed her little to no love, a man who refused to accept the way she wanted to be and only showed approval if she did what he wanted, Annie sought acceptance. But this need made her vulnerable, as right now she was said to be “kindest to those she trusted and was prepared to believe in them implicitly—at least, this is what she used to believe”.

The issue with this implicit trust was that the man she thought would be the one, the love of her life, was actually another liar and scammer. Based on Annie’s deduction 8, Annie’s fiancé had been working with Annie’s father to manipulate Annie into marrying her so they could get their hands on her inheritance.

Considering Annie’s father interest in her inheritance, and based on how Annie’s deduction 2 describes Annie’s father as a “nameless painter” managing to somehow marry into a “wealthy British family”, I wonder if Annie’s father never truly loved Wendy or Annie and only married Wendy due to her wealth, just like the suitors trying to marry Annie for her inheritance now. I wonder how long he’d been planning to steal Annie’s wealth, and if he’d been thinking about it even before Annie’s birth. I also wonder if Annie’s fiancé was actually a friend of her father’s, and that could be why he was able to work with him to attempt to steal Annie’s inheritance. From how Annie says her fiancé knows and accepts her for who she is, I wonder if Annie’s father could’ve told her fiancé about Annie and her desire to give her fiancé a better chance at winning her over.

Based on Annie’s deduction 9, it seems they succeeded in getting that 50% from her. One of her backstories mentions she did get married and had a miscarriage too. Whether or not that happened, after the 2 scammed Annie out of her inheritance, and without Annie’s father financing Annie at all, her financial status fell “under the poverty level”. She also was deeply hurt by the betrayal, and it was only than that she began to not implicitly trust everyone.

Based on Annie’s 1st letter, it seems due to her poverty, she was forced to temporarily live at “Holloway Nursing Home”. While there, the mention of hoping to bring “uplifting” news helps further confirm Annie was pretty depressed after what had happened to her. Her trailer uses the words “Deceived, Manipulated and discarded, Just like a toy”, so this is likely how she felt after the betrayal, while “imprisonment” is how she felt with her father.

In the CN version, it instead calls it the “Holloway Sanatorium Temporary Ward”. A “sanatorium” is a medical facility providing long-term care (usually for treatment for people with chronic illnesses). It is possible she was sent here after her “miscarriage”. On the other hand, Holloway Sanatorium is actually a real place in Surrey, England. It was said to be “for the care and treatment of the insane of the upper and middle classes”. This implies Annie was likely sent here for reasons tied to her mental or emotional state.

She is referenced to have some pretty severe anxiety during the games which she likely developed due to how she grew up under her strict father who didn’t show Annie any love, only seeing her as a failure her whole life, with her backstory implying he made her feel “worthless”.

Her anxiety likely also ties to her toys, as these toys were said to symbolize “comfort, family, and stability, and she only feels when she is around them”. This could imply she developed a kind of dependence on them, as she may have essentially used them as an emotional/mental crutch and tied them in her mind to her mother, who Annie knew had loved her despite never having the chance to meet her, even though her mother was gone. Without any of her toys or safe room, her mental state likely deteriorates to some degree.

Besides her anxiety, there’s also the outcome of Annie’s fiancé with her father betraying her and taking the inheritance from her mother. Annie’s emotional state isn’t described anywhere, but it likely isn’t hard to imagine how this likely affected her.

Annie already had developed feelings of low self-worth, insecurity, and a multitude of other issues due to how she grew up under her father. Then when she was betrayed by someone she felt might finally accept her for who she is, this further devastated her mental state. We know, despite how she grew up, that she still trusted to some degree, and was kind and implicitly believed those she trusted, but this was destroyed following the betrayal, and she likely developed trust issues (becoming more guarded and afterwards not opening up as easily). Besides this, she obviously would’ve felt deep emotional pain, heartbreak, and betrayal after what her fiancé and father did. Anger, sadness, confusion and loss would also be expected, as well as lower self-confidence and increased self-doubts and insecurity.

If Annie had been sent to a mental facility, this could imply she, at least for a time, had extreme emotional instability, and could’ve been shifting between emotions quite rapidly, from sorrow enough to cause her to cry uncontrollably, to panic attacks, or even intense anger. I imagine it had to have been enough to impair their ability to function or threatened their well-being for her to be put there. It’s also possible she experienced delusions or hallucinations due to her distress or deteriorated mental state. At the very least, panic attacks tied to her severe anxiety (which could also reasonably put her at risk of arm) are also fairly likely. She was likely sent to the mental facility to help her stabilize.

While she was there, before she’d stabilized but was recovering, she met Nicholas Oz, an attorney appointed by Wendy to inform her that Annie’s current status had activated a portion of the will Wendy left for Annie, which gave her a different 30% of Wendy’s estate as Wendy had made Annie her “designated inheritor”. This was a 30% that had “remained unrecorded” and had included “Madam Lester's foreign assets and assets entrusted to the care of her relatives and friends, all of which will be inherited by you”. Included in the items inherited by Annie is a “brand new children's wooden aircraft”, which could be the same one she uses in game (and may have been a real life, better version of the wings she’d built herself in the past).

I wonder if Wendy potentially knew a bit of the about how Annie’s father truly was and did all this in advance for this very kind of situation. Maybe that’s why there was a condition in her will that gave Annie 30% if Annie fell below the poverty level, which could imply Wendy had potentially foresaw this happening.

In any case, Annie (now definitely not living with her father if she hadn’t already escaped him before) used the money to build a toy shop (the objects that had helped her escape her miserable reality into a fantasy world where she had real freedom) and pursue her own desires. She also hoped her store would help bring happiness to other children and help grow their own fantasy worlds. Her toyshop is successful, and is said to have helped her regain her confidence. She vows to “get back what she deserves and her dignity”.

The last thing we know is she receives an anonymous letter that promises information on the “two scammers” (aka her father and fiancé who stole her inheritance) and so she decides to go.

#idv #identity v #anne lester #toy merchant #idv anne #idv annie #identity v anne #identity v annie #idv toy merchant #identity v toy merchant #sirenjose analyses and theories

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ineffably-human · 8 months

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it's how definitive it is for me. it's how we've actually ficced and debated this for years and they wrote it so crudely and unimportant, in a way that they can't really revisit later. no chance of more thoughtful or better storytelling next year, about one of your show's central goddamn questions.

this is our arguable main character, he is our entry point into everything else. and as that entry point, Guillermo's story is about dedicating his entire life to something, finding meaning in it since he was young, finding and latching onto it when he's not even supposed to know it exists. clawing his way forward for a place at the table where he's decided he wants to sit. risking his life at least a half dozen times I can think of.

Guillermo's story is about damaging his relationship with the entire rest of the world, throwing himself in with people who take years to admit they even like him. rejecting his family and his innate nature and lineage. tying his most important relationship up in it: this is the person who'll give him the thing he wants most in the world. one day Nandor will look him in the eye as an equal, as someone Like Him, who can stand next to him forever. his relationship with Nandor, at every stage, has always been a combination of 'do I want you or do I want to be you? does claiming me as one of yours mean I am yours? am I allowed to have forever with you?'

Guillermo's story, this season, is reacting to every single stage and marker of finally getting what he wants with joy, with the exceptions of 1) stepping away from a family that never seemed to understand or fulfill him in the first place, 2) having it happen in a less than ideal place and way, hurting Nandor in the process. the central problem of his turning isn't his feelings, which are extremely clear, it's how this impacts his relationship with Nandor. (answer: exactly the way you think it will. he's upset and then he gets over it. nothing else changes.)

and then suddenly we're told: Guillermo can't be trusted about what he's consistently said he wants. he hasn't given thought to a regular, inextricable piece of what it means - even though he's been next to, and engaged in, violence that's way more direct and bloody and sometimes even more senseless. the guy whose vampire entry point was Anne Rice never thought about The Horrors for some reason, because he's an idiot now. some people can Handle It and some people Can't, and he Can't because by the way when the vampires said he couldn't get what he wanted because he was lacking in some way, they were right.

suddenly, in the eleventh hour, it's off the table now. and even though every single other part of him has been tied up in it for his entire adult life, that's somehow a simple decision to make.

and more importantly, the show is going to take maybe five minutes at best to tell us that, and to make it clear it's not something that's a 'maybe' or a 'someday'. character development can't smooth it out. he can't try to fix it. it's just how it is.

yeah, of course in life you prepare for things that then swerve unexpectedly and take you in different directions. there are things you dream of that aren't how you imagine in reality, and you change gears, and you adapt.

and those are huge moments. they matter.

Guillermo doesn't get to mourn it. he doesn't get to reflect on where it places him with his loved ones. he doesn't even really get space to decide it on his own before declaring it in front of everyone he's ever met.

he has no anchor for his entire place in the world anymore, and if the amount of attention and care paid (read: very little) means anything, we're not supposed to feel very much about that at all. and we're not meant to have any indication of where he's going next. and I fucking hate it.

it's a lazy, thoughtless, botched-ass job, and I expected better.

#fandom: wwdits #wwdits #what we do in the shadows #guillermo de la cruz #i am a meta gremlin #i am very sleep-deprived and very not normal about a fictional guy #so this is more unhinged than usual

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rgr-pop · 21 days

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if i was a normal level of unwell right now i’d be baking a loaf of bread. i don’t want to have to leave the house tomorrow and i can’t bring myself to go to this stupid womens meeting. i have been so clear that i can’t do non constructive meetings that don’t specifically need me right now because i’m worn so thin, but if i don’t come on my sunday off i’ll lose credibility and these other orgs won’t work on the abortion fund projects. it feels like it’s always all on me to defend the value of doing repro work— and sometimes that’s okay and as you know i’m stepping up to work on this structural problem. but the problem is that if i show any signs of fragility—or god forbid say, “i need my sunday to myself this week,” or even worse, “my pet snail is dying and it’s going to impact my productivity for a week,” what i will be told is, well, you don’t have the capacity to sustain this work, so we’re going to stop working on it.

and the problem isn’t exactly that i’m the only one doing it (right now for example i have a street outreach brigade pamphleting hash bash lol in ann arbor, a political research crew prepping for the leg piece, a new Posting partnership planned for soon, the fundraiser ask is being made by someone else, plus some workings in a second chapter… look at me defending the work to you!), but we don’t have quite everyone with ownership over the project yet (which you build to) and, as i’ve said, everyone is depending all their willingness to not put up walls around this on whether or not i personally look energized and perfect and like i know everything every time they see me. meanwhile i want only one thing all the time (to kill myself). and i can’t be in this position because i’m not doing great. but i’m an ill and severely mentally ill person who can—i know—do a couple hours a week of organizing most weeks. and i believe you can build effective campaigns that bring in more people and build capacity and bolster people’s belief in the power working collectively for 2-10 hours a week can have to change people’s lives and make them feel mostly better rather than mostly worse. it’s important to me to hold that line. but i personally can’t survive being scolded by social workers (anarchists) and sociopaths (postleninists and social movement strategists) not to mention the regular misogynists who I HAVE TO PRESENT THIS TO IN A WEEK HOPING THAT THEY DONT DO SOMETHING MEAN TO SCARY TO ME IN FRONT OF EVERYONE!!

anyway the thing is that i’m so fragile that i don’t see a way where this consciousness raising or whatever meeting doesn’t ruin my mood for the next few days, because every single one so far has been so bad it has edged on a traumatic experience. and i have to deal with that on top of everything else i have in my life (snail dying, baby, ANTS, being solely responsible for housework and most bills, feeding myself on no money, medical appointments, all my loved ones in crisis due to being poor women, eclipse???, my union, eating disorder, chronic pain, SNAIL DYING). and if you were a loser wannabe social worker you might say “it sounds like you don’t have capacity to organize” and, WRONG. i don’t have the capacity to waste two hours of my life + the bus travel on a consciousness raising meeting where someone tells me what’s wrong about me. and i disagree with the relational organizing (or even post bernie labor type) partisans a who say, that’s where the organizing happens. i disagree and i have a different theory of how this works (i may be inventing a caucus lol). and most importantly i think that i personally am more like a majority of working class women than i’m different. the main thing that makes me most different from other working class women is how much time i commit to communism. i want to change this!!!

today i need to work on things but i’m focused on my snail and the feelings around this. i’m having a hard time feeding myself. i don’t think crying on a saturday with my dying pet snail while managing mental illness during an eclipse makes me someone who can’t organize and i do NOT think getting psychologically torn to shreds by a social worker in training or a social movement strategist trying to force me to do drugs at a retreat is going to make me a better organizer.

j invited us over after the meeting and i’m overcome with guilt about coming empty handed. i miss him. i saw him in passing at the last meeting. he makes me happy and feel better. i don’t think i should be with him because i worry all i can do is complain. and he will be reminded why everyone hates me et cetera. but after i saw him that day when i wanted to die he reached out right after and said do you guys want to come over for dinner.

i can’t do the dishes. i made sniva a carrot. she got up to eat it. her trapdoor is so withered but i don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go on reddit to think about it. i want her to live six more days. i genuinely don’t know whether i’m neglecting her or should let it be. i am almost sure there is nothing i can do to fix her trapdoor. i’m going to do a small water change/replacement tonight if i can be upright enough. that’s it!! im as good as murdering her

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bethanydelleman · 1 year

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What were the chances that Mrs. Weston being a gorvernes got such a good, respectable and rich match as Mr. Weston is Emma? Even Jane Fairfax was considering becoming a gorvernes, and even though she was born poor but she was raised wealthly so I'm assuming gorvernesing must be a good profession in terms of money I suppose? Could any of the Dashwood or Bennett sisters could've considered that profession? Or was it beneath them and why/why not?

Governessing is not a good profession in terms of money, status, ability to marry, or anything. Mrs. Weston was very lucky to be in a family as kind and generous as the Woodhouses and to move in society enough to meet Mr. Weston.

Jane Fairfax (in one of Jane Austen's less palatable moments), compares being a governess to the slave trade:

“...Offices for the sale—not quite of human flesh—but of human intellect.”

“Oh! my dear, human flesh! You quite shock me; if you mean a fling at the slave-trade, I assure you Mr. Suckling was always rather a friend to the abolition.”

“I did not mean, I was not thinking of the slave-trade,” replied Jane; “governess-trade, I assure you, was all that I had in view; widely different certainly as to the guilt of those who carry it on; but as to the greater misery of the victims, I do not know where it lies. But I only mean to say that there are advertising offices, and that by applying to them I should have no doubt of very soon meeting with something that would do.”

Agnes Grey by Anne Brontë has a very realistic view of what a governess's life looked like and it is not great. Anne worked as a governess herself, by the way, and the novel is thought to be based on her own experience. Agnes works very long hours for not much pay (between £30-50 pounds per year usually), she is not considered a member of the family and rarely sees visitors. Remember, by the time of the novel, Miss Taylor isn't even teaching Emma anymore, she's basically a paid friend for Emma. That was the dream. Miss Taylor was clearly visiting with Emma's friends which is required to meet a man of gentry status.

Perhaps more importantly, and something Emma discusses as well, governesses were unprotected:

“Thank you, thank you—but on no account.—I would rather walk.—And for me to be afraid of walking alone!—I, who may so soon have to guard others!”

She spoke with great agitation; and Emma very feelingly replied, “That can be no reason for your being exposed to danger now. I must order the carriage....”

Agnes escapes unharmed, but governesses were often orphans, like Jane Fairfax (and probably Miss Taylor as her family is never mentioned), and they did not have men at hand to protect them or chaperones. So the possibility of their being preyed upon by the man of the family, or the sons, or visitors was unfortunately very real. Here are some accounts. However, Miss Taylor is in a house with no sons and Mr. Woodhouse, she is as safe as possible.

So, not only were most governesses not mixing in society enough to even meet a suitor, but even if you did, a man might not consider you because he assumes you are a ruined woman. Lovely.

Because of this danger, the wife of a family may also discriminate against pretty girls, as discussed here in A Woman of No Importance by Oscar Wilde:

Lady Hunstanton: ...Nobody likes to be asked favours. I remember poor Charlotte Pagden making herself quite unpopular one season, because she had a French governess she wanted to recommend to every one.

Lady Caroline. I saw the governess, Jane. Lady Pagden sent her to me. It was before Eleanor came out. She was far too good-looking to be in any respectable household. I don’t wonder Lady Pagden was so anxious to get rid of her.

Lady Hunstanton. Ah, that explains it.

Also, you needed to be well educated to get a good position. Miss Taylor and Jane Fairfax clearly are, but the Bennet sisters are most decidedly not. Maybe Elizabeth or Mary could pass but the rest would not be very desirable which would probably increase their chance of being in a bad position. The Dashwoods probably could, but they don't need to. They already make an income of £50 off their inheritance of £1000 each without doing any work.

If Mrs. Dashwood died, the £7000 pounds would be split between the girls. They would be able to live together on that income or contribute to the household of their brother or a cousin (pretty sure Sir John would take them in). So there is no way they would need to be governesses.

To sum up, most gentry women probably were doing whatever they could to avoid becoming a goveress.

#governess #jane austen #agnes grey #anne brontë #a woman of no importance #oscar wilde #no one wanted to be a governess #it was better to be miss bates #question response #really smart to have an unprotected 18 year old without family in a house with adult men #I would guess the real statistics were pretty dire

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gentlejack · 6 months

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Anne/Ann headcanons, mayhaps? / violetyorkshirelady

⚢ Thank you so much for this ask! I always love to talk about my sweet beloved Ann(e)s whom I miss and cherish so very much ;A; <;3

I think my favourite headcanons must be the ones that concern their day-to-day married life; the time they spend together; their shared little gestures; and most importantly the many things they do to improve each other's existence.

I live for them grooming and pampering each other. I am of the firm and unshakeable opinion that Anne frequently washes, combs and braids Ann's hair, and that Ann never wastes an opportunity to rub some nicely scented lotion into the work-roughened skin of Anne's hands in the evening.

Just as Anne is known to massage the anxiety knots out of Ann's poor shoulders, Ann has developed a special sense for deciphering the keenly-hidden failings of Anne's health. She always knows when Anne's knees are plagued by another arthritic flare, no matter how stubbornly Anne tries to conceal her discomfort. It's why Ann keeps knitting her fluffy knee pads to help against the hardships of those long, draughty winters at Shibden.

Ann has made herself perfectly, comfortably at home on Anne's lap and she occupies that proudly won space of hers whenever they're alone in the room together.

Anne keeps a close eye on Ann's physical and emotional health. She often tries to keep her busy by involving her in personal projects and shared ventures. And she always, always finds a way to make Ann eat, even on the days when she'd prefer to go hungry. (No self-punishing behaviour on Anne's watch!)

Anne's hands are always cool, Ann's hands are always warm. Anne also sticks her icy feet against Ann's shins when they're in bed together, and Ann never fails to gasp about it. But that's all right, because ...

Ann, in turn, drives Anne absolutely bonkers with her snoring. I love headcanons that are drawn from the historical records of their married life, and it never fails to crack me up that little Ann Walker had such an obnoxious snore that Anne frequently fled their bedroom to sleep in ever more ridiculous locations out of sheer desperation. (But she always returns to her wife's side in the wee hours of the morning, because she loves her.)

Now you must tell me some of your headcanons! <3

#( i love them your honour )#i dare to say i am like no one in the whole world. ( anne lister )#i really feel in love with her and have no fear of being very happy with her. ( ann walker )#i wish to make a name for myself. ( headcanons )#meerawrites #violetyorkshirelady

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randomfoggytiger · 2 years

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X-Files Collector’s Edition: Time Travel, Time Loops, and Just Wrong Timing

Time travel and loops were explored sparingly in the X Files universe; but what is a fandom without a handy dandy dump truck filled with more AUs to add to the fic landfill? These are just the few that passed my litmus test, either by earned merit or because there was at least something in them that was worth reading. Which ones are which is up to you, though I recommend ChaneenW’s, FridayAt9′s, somanycandle’s, Jo-Ann Lassiter’s, Donna’s, and Lolabeegood’s works (maybe because they have the happiest outlooks by the end.)

(**Edited: included @anders-hawke’s Nine Minutes? short**)

Loose chronological order below~

Here we go!

Timeline (mostly) Intact

vessel (saved at orphan_account on Ao3)

““The scientific explanation for all this is overwhelmingly simple: salt blocks hydration, dehydration rots the cells composing the human body. In spite of this, I am struck once again with the improbability that the laws of nature would mutate to allow such a phenomenon, to make a human being age fifty years in a matter of hours.””

Dod Kalm old Scully waits for death, pondering science and impending death.

Sheryl Nantus/Sheryl Martin’s (FFN) Nine Minutes

““It was a long time, when you sat and timed it.

Watching the digital figures spin up through the cycle; headed for the top figure of 9:00. Or 540 seconds. Or whatever you measured it by.

It was still nine minutes. Nine minutes that she could never have back again.””

Cancer Arc Scully has lived her life in her own self-imposed time loop: continually obsessing over the 9 minutes she lost in the Pilot, trying vainly to regain them back by resetting her watch every few minutes.

It’s not quite a time loop; but Scully is locked mentally in one, so it counts.

((BONUS! Works well with--

@lyndsaybones’s (Ao3) Incremental

““The watch fit her perfectly when she got it. He remembers thinking that it seemed child sized then. Do they make Omega watches for kids?

But the weight started sloughing off of her like autumn leaves and he started to feel more fear than hope. The watch starts telling more than time.””

Mulder observes the measure of Scully’s decay with her expensive new watch.))

ChaneenW’s

The Birds and the Bees

““We’re in this together,” he insisted, turning to look at her face.

“We’re in this together,” she repeated, squeezing her arms more tightly around him.

“We just need to find a way to remind ourselves,” he said, starting to slur a little as his face froze. “Some small thing that we do or say could change the whole sequence of events and maybe knock ourselves out of the loop before it gets this far.””

FTF albatrosses of Antarctica keep resetting Mulder and Scully’s journey from the hallway and escape from the alien spaceship (with varying results) until those two right the wrongs the bee made. It quickly devolves from any possible angst into humor and heart while getting subtly funnier the longer the loop goes.

Twice Upon a Time

““The more time he spent here, though, the more it became uncomfortably clear that Eddie hadn’t been wrong about him. He had been a loser back then: too focused on searching for the big answers to see what was right in front of him. And although he’d been immediately attracted to Scully when they first met, had instantly respected her knowledge and expertise, and had come to quickly trust her with his life, he had to acknowledge that it had taken him longer than it should have to realize how much he loved her.””

S9 Mulder wakes in his old apartment, confused to learn he has traveled back to the Eddie van Blundht case. At first he has fun breezily solving it and looking anew at his life; but soon S4 Scully notices how differently he’s acting as the glitz and glamor of time-travel fades and homesickness sets in.

@fridaysat9′s (Ao3) A Second’s Fraction

““Why, and more importantly, how, was she standing in her apartment? She had just been in the hospital with injuries and broken bones. She had been talking to Mulder, wishing for pain meds and sleep.

She lifted her arm, surprised to find that it was no longer in a sling. She moved to touch her face, which was completely free of injuries. She patted her hands down the front of her clothes, realizing she was wearing the shirt she had put on that morning. It was clean, and free of spilled coffee.””

Post Drive-- Scully is reset from a horrific car accident, having to live the same day over and over. She, by turns: deals with it alone, tries breaking routine, tries following Diana, tries reaching out to Mulder... all for them to fail. Soon, she is losing hope.

This is engaging, and never gets old.

Jo-Ann Lassiter’s Many Happy Returns

““Why are you making me come here?"

It sounded so like a mortally-wounded Mulder that any fear she may have harbored toward the--whatever it was--evaporated. She stepped from behind Mulder, closer to the doppleganger. "I'm sorry. It was an accident. But where did you come *from?* And what are you?"

The doppleganger gave a bitter laugh. "I'm him," it said, pointing at Mulder, "five years ago. When you died in that operating room in Alaska," it addressed her partner.””

S6/7 Scully accidentally summons an alternate universe Mulder, who is distraught to be brought back from the dead. Normal-Mulder is fascinated, then empathetic at his alternate’s pleas and answers to their questions. Both fix the problem in between comedic quips, heart-string tugs, and ~romance~.

Donna’s One More Time

““She was burned, he'd heard them, they didn't know why she was still alive. 90% of her body, her hair was gone and her skin was blackened or raw. She was unconscious, thank goodness. What would the pain have been . . . he didn't finish that thought. They were talking about amputating her fingers to cut down on infection. They'd already said if she lived, if, that they would have to look for donor skin because she didn't have enough left to graft. He'd heard them; they were using cadaver skin on her now.””

S6/7 Mulder is shot back in time to save Scully from being burned alive by an arsonist... only for all his efforts to almost be in vain. Also, ~romance~.

@somanycandles/FootlessData507’s The Disappearance of Bruce Speta

““A very Mulder-type explanation was beginning to hatch in her brain. “No,” she murmured to herself. “That’s not possible.” She shook her head, as if that would shake the theory away. But it wouldn’t go away. What if they were both the real Mulder? What if everything that everyone had told her was true?””

S6/7 Mulder and Scully place bets on finding out the cause of Tena’s friend’s problem: he suspects it’s the ghost of her missing husband while Scully thinks it’s a hoax. She, however, finds it’s all too real when she is shot into a mirror universe, where she needs the help of the “ghost” husband and her alternate self to get home.

Wonderfully fun, insightful, and leads to ~romance~.

Lolabeegood’s Five Months Lost (Gossamer)

““Sir, I need you to come over to my apartment right away. Mulder was here when I woke up."

"He was what?!" Skinner yelled.

"He's here, right now and...and he thinks he has been all along," she whispered as she looked toward the washroom.””

S8 Scully is shocked to find Mulder in her bed with false memories of the past five months. Skinner and TLG back her up to an increasingly terrified Mulder.

Such an underrated canon-divergent from S8-- so well-written, and it has the whole gang in character.

Gillian Leigh’s Visitor in the Desert

“Perplexed, Mulder opened his palm and lifted the dog tags out of his hand and examined them. He reached up behind him and turned on a light. The writing on the tags said,

Civilian Number: 11211013

Name: Rhiannon Mulder

DOB: December 22, 2002

His eyes widened. She was... his daughter?””

S9 Mulder is visited in the desert by his future daughter, who sends warnings from a bleak future. He high-tails it back to Scully, stops the adoption, and drags her, their family, and friends to an underground civilization built in advance of Colonization. Bill, Charlie, and Samantha already live there; and it’s a bit slice-of-lifey until Mulder decides to go on a vengeance mission that his future daughter has to come back, again, and warn him about.

prufrock’s love/plenilune’s (Ao3, Gossamer, WBM, colonizationhq)

Belphegor’s Prime (Ao3)

““Oh.” She seemed to wear the holster to appease him rather than herself, and she gave no sign she intended to return inside to call anyone. “Did you disable my car?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “That’s my thing. I leave my kids and drive 90 minutes, claiming I’m trying to solve a crime but really to chauffeur you around for the next few hours. Also, I’m from the future.””

Post IWTB-Colonization Scully is gone. Mulder time-travels to med student Scully, using his intelligence, desperation, and dedication to try to get her to answer the only clue Scully left. The answer eludes them both; and they spend the rest of his vanishing evening looking at pics of their kids, the future world, and healing each other’s wounds. As time begins to refigure and resettle, Mulder realizes where Scully is, and rushes on diminishing time to get her back.

I have heard this recced forever and ever, Amen; but finally got around to it while blitzing through prufrock’s fics. I think this is the only one of hers that gripped me, kept me engaged, and satisfied me by the end. Prufrock’s love writes stunning levels of intelligence with such seeming ease that it boggle the mind, and is even more impressive because it’s based in such meticulous care and research in every word she chose that it almost exhausts with its depth. This is absolutely a must- read (except for the part where med student Scully cheats on her bf with future Mulder, even if she will forget those actions. But that’s easily skipped and ignored.)

@lotsoforangesoutside’s Unnamed and Its Sequel

““Now, you two knuckleheads,” Bill turns toward the couple, “don’t tell me what Andy said has never crossed your mind. Will doesn’t look 15 and I bet a medical doctor and an Oxford graduate can come up with better cover stories than what you two have cooked up for us. I think you guys should run the new version by me before Dinner, yeah?”

The couple looks at each other as if they were in an episode of the Twilight Zone. Bill gives a light chuckle and shakes his head as he moseys his way out of the living room.””

Post IWTB-- Mulder and Scully have acquired a mysterious Jr. in addition to their younger son, William. Bill, for once, covers for them with timelines to other family members. The truth? Fox Jr. is William from the future, who traveled back, found his past self, and brought them both to their parents’ house.

Itero (formerly Humphreywrites’s fic)

““It is a remarkably small price to pay for a life that is full. A life that is so much happier than her lonely one with nothing but an empty apartment and lonely weekends. She was okay with that, but she hadn’t known what she was missing. She hadn’t known how dead she felt until every morning she woke up alive.””

FTF Scully wakes in a hospital in an alternate universe, the mother of three kids and happily married to Mulder. She quickly finds her footing, bonding with the kids and finding her new normal amidst failing grades, baby tears, and teenage angst. She wakes in a new timeline: 1993. And decides not to waste time.

It’s more Scully-contemplation than slice-of-life; and its maturity in tone sings.

allthistime’s i think i know you from somewhere

““So, when are you from? Tell me about the future!” Mulder said enthusiastically, practically bouncing up and down. Of course he’d barely be phased by a 54-year-old Scully waltzing into his office one Monday morning in 1993.

“Oh, I don’t think I should do that, Mulder. I do believe this is a dream or hallucination, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

He looked dejected for a moment before lighting up again.””

Revival Scully and ‘93 Scully swap places momentarily. Both Mulders are intrigued; and all parties have fun sharing POVs and fishing for details.

mrsagentspooky/agcntspooky‘s (also on dubitavero)

““Keeping his thoughts to himself and trying hard not to stare at the man who would have been - had been? would be? - his father, William nodded.

“I need to talk to you about an X-file, and… can you tell me the date?”

Although the last bit was told in a more sheepish tone (after all, who barges in in the middle of the night and asks for the date?), the whole sentence was scripted. Get his attention by mentioning the X-files straight away. Know where you stand by asking the date. He and Dana had been over it an thousand times.””

Time travel from Will’s POV. Will drops in on Mulder, asking for the date and camping out. Mulder is shocked and calls Scully over, who skeptically listens to Will’s explanation: Future Scully built a time machine to send him back for FBI files to prevent the destruction of the future.

These are EXCELLENTLY written in roleplay-format between two authors: they use little words to say a lot. Also, I love soaking in the atmosphere of this fic.

These stories are a bit scattered, so I’ll just leave the links below in order(?):

1 2 3 4 5

6 7 8 9 10

11 12 13 14 15

@ellivia’s Unnamed

““Whenever Mulder and Scully are in different time zones, he only refers to her as Past Scully or Future Scully.

“Oh that is so you. That is so Past Scully.””

IWTB-Revival Mulder likes to tease past-present-future Scully when she’s away on conferences. She finally kills him with sweetness overload.

This doesn’t exactly fit in the above criteria, but time-zones count... right?

Non-specific timeline AUs

@anders-hawke/@iwtbscully‘s Nine Minutes?

““He shook his head and let Scully buckle herself in as he shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side. “Scully, do you remember anything from those nine minutes? Anything real?”

Her giddy smile slipped from her face and she looked away from him into the unlit stretch of road ahead of them, marred only by Mulder’s X in the distance. “No. But I can prove to you that what I’m saying is true. The person who’s taking those people is Billy Miles. I saw a whole life in those nine minutes, Mulder. I lived a whole life. I made decisions and had thoughts and—and fell in love, had children… People died, too. People that I want to save. People that I have to save, knowing what I know.””

Revival Scully wakes from her death... to find herself losing nine minutes in the Pilot. She immediately gives Mulder the rundown, and watches as he processes all emotions at her revelations.

Julie Fortune’s The Ghost of You

““Mulder." Scully gloved up and reached out to take hold of the woman’s hand, lifting it by the thumb.

Hands did not move that way. Not like – empty sacks, the fingers bending like rubber, no stiffness to it at all.

Boneless. Scully lifted higher. The arm followed the hand, a piece of dead spaghetti.””

Mulder and Scully are unwittingly caught in a time loop: autopsying Future Scully’s pulverized body, zipping around to random moments in that day, and resetting the day completely. Some timelines are more successful than others, but all lead to their mutual abduction and her fatal fall.

I found this one courtesy of @mondfuchs-- so thank you!

Hestia01′s (Ao3) Time Lag

““It’s fine, what could happen?”

“I have a bad feeling about this, I don’t think you should.”

Scully wrests herself from her partner. “I just want a better look. It’s probably nothing.” She cleans her hands with a moist towelette, reaches in and picks up the stone.””

A magical museum stone shoots Scully into continual lifetimes-- forcing her to live them fully, die, and reset. When Mulder finally gets her back to the original, she has become depressed and suicidal.

Kristy Anderson’s The Fate of Time (2/2)

““When I woke up last night, all I could remember was our lives together on the X-Files, and I started aching for what I knew was lost from that. The companionship, the hard earned and well tested trust, the love built upon mutual respect and shared heartache. I ended up sitting down on the corner of 42nd and Broadway, just crying and missing us until the sun started rising. As the first rays of light began to shine, to bring life to the streets again, I finally allowed myself to remember the past three, almost four years together. It was as if the beginning of the new day was my new beginning.

"That's when I realized that if I gave this up, what we have now, I would miss this us even more.””

Mulder and Scully are sent to a reset timeline and live the ups and downs of kidnappings, promotions, opening their own X-Files division, and having Will earlier. It all crumbles when Scully dies from cancer, and they are sent back to their normal lives once again.

Rachel Anton’s Eleventh Hour

““I knew I had let her down. Again. And I vowed to make it up to her. Someday, somehow. One day I would have enough courage to let this thing happen, to let her give herself to me. One day I would have enough faith in myself, be a good enough person to trust myself with her.

I didn't even sense that something was wrong. I didn't even know.””

Mulder tracks down and brutally murders Scully’s killer. Due to insanity, he is placed in a mental hospital where a fellow patient asks him to volunteer as lab rat in a time-travel experiment. He’s shot back to the 80s and begins to track Scully down. ~Romance~ blooms somewhere down the line.

Gotta be honest, I DNF-ed this after Mulder agrees to the experiment; but will probably finish it later.

Honorable Mention: The Boy on the Beach by @cecilysass’s (Ao3, Gossamer). (I included her in one of the Mulder family compilations, so it felt like cheating to include her here, too.)

Enjoy!

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fortheloveofaussiegrit · 11 months

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aus gp 2023 (oscarmark wip and a little nsfw)

The knock at the door hadn’t been completely unexpected, and he didn’t want to admit that he had been waiting— but he had.

It was the early hours of the morning by the time Mark opened his hotel room door, and it wasn’t a shock to see Oscar standing, almost swaying from side to side, looking a little worse for wear. Oscar had raced in his first home grand prix earlier that day, and he had scored points just like Mark had all those years ago. So Mark had told him to go celebrate, and by the way Oscar was not quite able to hold Mark’s gaze and the way he almost stumbled while standing still, it wasn’t difficult to gauge just how much of a good time Oscar’d had.

“You’re still awake.” Oscar mumbled to his manager as he wobbled his way into the room.

"I am now." He replied, trying to stifle a yawn. He closed the door behind them, leaving his thoughts outside as he turned to see Oscar, noticing that his choice of words caused Oscar to spin so quickly back around that he almost toppled over.

“Sorry— i-i didn’t mean to wake you.”

Mark just shook his head and brushed him off, “you didn’t.”

Oscar just nodded, looking up at Mark. It was dark in the room with only the bedside lamp on, and his laptop was strewn on the bed from where he had been sitting and working. He had changed out of what he was wearing earlier, but he was still wearing jeans and a t-shirt— Jeans that Oscar had told him were just a little too tight, and the t-shirt that was also on the smaller side, but he made no complaints. The t-shirt that he wore was just tight enough on his arms to show off the definition of his muscles and the jeans… He loved the way the jeans spread over his thighs when he sat down, the denim stretching over his bulge at times too, and that image alone made Oscar feel even more unsteady on his feet.

He could see that his eyes looked tired, starting to curl around and droop at the corners. The wrinkles around his eyes pleated even more, and Oscar just wanted to run his fingers over each and every single one of them because he loved them. He loved the way they creased when he made Mark smile, when he grinned a congratulations in Oscar's direction, and most importantly, he loved the way they bunched together when Mark squeezed his eyes shut when he was close to cuming with his cock in Oscar’s mouth.

And Oscar was almost lost just staring at the man he believed he owed so much to... Not just for the help with his racing but for everything else that entailed too. The looking after him when he was younger; the making sure he was doing his homework; the making sure he was eating; checking his flights so he wouldn’t miss them, knocking on his hotel door when he knew Oscar would’ve slept through his alarm; taking him home with him so he could eat one of Ann’s home-cooked meals because he knew how badly the homesickness sucked at times; and just being there when no one else was.

Then that had all evolved into what they had now— not that they could label what they had now.

They had never really talked about what it was; it had just happened. It was sex, and it was also a whole lot more than just that too, but maybe because they knew it was wrong and it could never be anything more than a dirty little secret they both kept hidden in the depths of their pockets, that was why they were content with what they had and why they never questioned it. Oscar didn’t care that it was wrong; Mark cared for him, looked after him, maybe even loved him, and he could also set ablaze every single nerve in Oscar’s body when he ripped orgasm after orgasm from him. He was fine with it being condemned to hotel rooms and having to steal secret glances and touches in public because no one had ever made Oscar feel the way Mark did.

Mark, on the other hand, had been quite vocal about how wrong it was, with mumbles coming from Mark about how they shouldn’t be doing this, but then Oscar was sucking his cock into his mouth, and all those thoughts seemed to be forgotten.

Oscar wanted that now… he had gone out like Mark had told him too. He had been nearly carried into some swanky club in Melbourne and then preceded to get drunk… very drunk as he had been handed drink after drink and was even hoisted into the air on numerous occasions because they had a lot to celebrate: the boy from Melbourne had scored points in his first home grand prix.

But then later into the evening that familiar feeling of lust and inebriety started to mix in his stomach and then all he wanted was to be in Mark’s bed with Mark’s hands and mouth all over him.

That’s how he ended up stood before Mark with his hand reaching out to touch his cheek. To rub his thumb over that outgrown stubble, feeling the prickle against the palm of his hand. Wanting to feel it rub against his own cheek, to brush against his neck as Mark trailed kisses down his check. He wanted to feel it caress against the insides of his thighs as Mark bit kisses into his skin, drawing out bruises and yelps from Oscar as he did.

Then he was pushing onto his tiptoes so he could reach Mark’s lips with his, merely brushing a touch before Mark spoke.

“What are you doing here?” Mark asked as if it wasn’t obvious.

Oscar just grinned smugly as he reached to press his lips to Mark’s again before settling back on the heels of his feet as it seemed Mark was far more interested in talking then anything else.

“Couldn’t find someone to take you home and fuck you, is that it?” He teased as his lips curled into a grin as he looked to Oscar.

“They don’t fuck me like you do.”

Mark spluttered out a cough at that having to take a step back from the kid.

#this is me spewing out words #will be rewritten and finished at some point #.fortheloveofag fics

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lucy-ghoul · 1 year

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best books read in 2022 by yours truly, in no particular order:

the seven deaths of evelyn hardcastle by stuart turton (technically started in 2021 but finished in early january 2022, so it counts). murder mystery + time loop + redemption themes = perfect mix, 10/10 recommend

this is how you lose the time war by amal el-mohtar & max gladstone: space lesbians but what if they were enemies? lovely, lovely prose. one flaw tho: more of a ~i'm being poetic for the sake of being poetic~ than a character story. still, interesting read.

the plague by albert camus: i couldn't not include him. 5/5 stars, he's easily becoming one of my favorite authors.

hygiène de l'assassin by amélie nothomb: a female journalist succeeds where everyone else fails and interviews an old misanthropic and cynical nobel-winner author. but not everything is as it seems... insane little book, great characterization for the female protagonist. perfect ending. i couldn't put it down, thankfully it's quite short.

carmilla by j. sheridan le fanu: this doesn't need introductions, does it? :)

hedda gabler by henrik ibsen: a play revolving around a woman - daughter of a general, unsatisfied by her current circumstances and marriage. a fascinating female protagonist, especially for the time; the kind of writing you usually get for male characters, and a role every actress would give everything to play at least once.

salomé by oscar wilde: one act only, but it stays with you. particularly incisive adaptation of the biblical story; wilde's writing as usual is stunning.

an oresteia (agamemnon by aeschylus, elektra by sophokles, orestes by euripides) by anne carson: another read that doesn't need introductions.

the hours by michael cunningham: somehow based on mrs dalloway, it is about one day (and the life) of three women in three different time periods; among them, virginia woolf herself. lovely prose.

the cycle of earthsea by ursula k. le guin: series of 5 books (including one of short stories) masterfully written by ms le guin. the first book is a sort of fantasy buldingsroman about a young wizard named ged who, because of his hubris, makes a peculiar sort of enemy... the next books follow ged as he becomes an adult, a middle-aged, and an old man + a varied cast of characters (most importantly tenar, introduced in book 2). original worldbuilding and story (especially for the time - the first novel was published in the 60s), lovely prose and themes (light/dark as yin/yang, necessary to each other's existence - sw wishes it had what earthsea has) + beautiful love story in the last volumes. bonus: most characters in earthsea are very much not white. again, very avant-garde for the 60s, and something all adaptations deliberately ignored.

grendel by john gardner: based on the beowulf poem - the story told by the antagonist's point of view. just striking, and oh my god the themes. couldn't stop thinking about it for days.

in the night garden by catherynne m. valente: a girl trapped in a garden spins a labyrinth of fairy tales for a boy - the only person willing to listen to her - a la scheherazade. told in the usual beautiful prose made in valente, amazing settings and atmospheres.

the sundering duology by jacqueline carey. (thanks for the rec, @queen-zimraphel ❤️) basically a lotr retelling told by the Bad Guys' povs. the inspiration is clear but also it's meant to be a mirror and say 'what if?'. grey morality everywhere, elegant but simple prose + death and the maiden vibes from the local tormented dark lord/the beautiful elf lady. (tho the main love story is not about them specifically... but still.) a great tragedy, but masterfully told - this is how characters who were dead from the beginning and given a role to play in the narrative by a fate larger than them should be written.

honorary mentions to áqua viva by clarice lispector, waiting for godot by samuel beckett, enrico iv by luigi pirandello, and then there were none by agatha christie, sharp objects and gone girl by gillian flynn, in the margins by elena ferrante, ficciones by jorge luis borges, and obviously demons by fyodor dostoeveskij <3

#val speaks #misc books #txt

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undergroundbillions · 2 years

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A saga from the search side of things:

Sunday (the 25th) Tristan sent some links he found for MyHeritage, one of those ancestry record sites, but it took a subscription, or at least a free trial, to view. The previews confirmed the articles mentioned Mark Baker in the 1983 version of Raggedy Ann and Andy, so I was intrigued enough to sign up! I love cancelling free trials >:)

When I got to the pages, however, the actual images have me error messages, and I got were these shitty transcription attempts by the computer >:0 nevertheless I started a google doc and began copying them over to clean up later, along with their links.

Thing is, after I got the 1983 ones, I checked out his search results for Ivy Austin, which came up with even more. Then I switched it out for Raggedy Ann, and then Rag Dolly, going year by year (searching only newspapers within New York). SO now. I have 42 mentions. Most of with articles, a couple just short mentions in a ticket advertisement or full article about Russian relations.

:O 42

But aside from the shitty transcriptions, I KNEW some of these had pictures. You could TELL by the captions!!! And I was upset I couldn't find them!!! So with list of confirmed dates, headlines, and occasionally even page numbers in hand, I turned my attention to Google Newspapers. Now we've used them before, but they don't transcribe their stuff as often, so if you don't have specific dates to look for you're not going to find much. I began to dig, picking each issue and skimming through the pages (sometimes multiple issues for one article, if the date was wrong) until I came up with 23 of them! Not bad! Most importantly, I manged to find all the pictures, which included Ivy and Tricia in the bedboat from 1985, Snyder and friends throwing Gibson a surprise birthday party, and the iconic photo of Mark Baker and Ivy Austin as Andy & Ann! I spent seven hours at the library, this was the 27th.

So today. The 29th. I get back on to see if I can locate the three other articles I really wanted to find (some of the shorter mentions I didn't find worth the dig). And when I click on the MyHeritage link.

The pictures load.

THE PICTURES LOAD????? >:0

I would say "all those hours of work for nothing" but Ronnie reminds me that even if I can save higher quality photos now, at least we have links to the full spreads that aren't behind a paywall. So it takes me about an hour and now I have high quality pictures of all 42 mentions in my original list. And they're wonderful! And now we can clean up the transcriptions! And I really recommend reading them! And now I've got wiki pages to update! :D

-𝕸𝖔𝖉 𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖑 𝕯.

#found media #it's been an adventure #raggedy ann revival effort #raggedy ann #raggedy ann musical #rag dolly #raggedy ann broadway #rag dolly musical #mod general d #raggedy andy #rag dolly in the ussr

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cold-coffee1 · 2 years

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Anne-Marie was waiting patiently by the docks, unsure if Ron would actually turn up. She had worn a very nice dress. She had managed to borrow her mother’s old gloves, which she had stated she was fine with her taking, and, most importantly, her mother’s emerald brooch, something she cherished very deeply. It was only a matter of time before Ronald showed up, seeming a bit frantic, but nonetheless eager for the night to really begin.

R: “Miss Allenbach, might I say you look exceptional tonight. Your hair has been done beautifully, too. Frankly, I’m a little jealous.” Ron said, laughing softly but holding a very warm smile. Anne could feel the heat rise to her cheeks at his remark, trying her best to pass it off for the weather.

AM: “Oh, goodness, you flatter me, Ron. You look lovely this evening as well.” Anne said, her cheeks still flushed red. Ron smiled.

R: “Well, thank you very much. Now, you ready to get the night started?” He held out his hand for her. Anne frantically nodded and followed right with him, smiling like an idiot.

Walking to the entrance of the dockside restaurant. Anne found its modest appearance appealing. She didn’t really like the extremely fancy restaurants her parents used to take her to a lot, and since she became a proper woman she didn’t exactly go out with them much unless it was to meet family. Regardless, she curtsied and walked in.

AM: “You’re just such a gentleman, aren’t you, sir?” She laughed softly, entering the building, before turning to look at Ron, waiting.

R: “Well, obviously. It’s just the right thing to do for a lady. Especially for a lady such as yourself.” He smiled as he walked in and past Anne to get them a table, whose heart nearly could’ve burst out her chest from just how polite and tame of a man he was, compared to some others in the town who could barely even be considered ‘men’.

It took only a matter of minutes, they had gotten a table outside. The warm late-spring air of the night allowed a comfortable temperature for them to stay out there. The pair chatting it up on all types of topics. Ron discussed his work a bit, expressing how exhausted he had been lately and was looking forward to the fall harvest, so he could finally get himself a break. Anne, on the other hand, listened very intently. She could listen to him talk about the most boring thing, and he’d still find a way to capture her full and total attention. The two kept up their long conversations in between their meal that had taken only a short time to get there. The two kept the full attention of each other, laughter emanating from the table every so often, the pair enjoying the company of each other to each other’s fullest extent.

By the time they had finished their meals, they must’ve talked non-stop for well over an hour or two, only leaving because it had nearly passed midnight and the restaurant was closing. Ron went on to walk Anne home, and the pair continued chatting.

R: “Tonight’s been lovely, truly. I really needed this break away from work. I’d love to do something like this with you again.” Ron said, turning to Anne. They had finally made it to her house, and he helped her up the small staircase leading up to her door,

AM: “Well, of course, Ron! Tonight’s been truly delightful, and I can only hope we can grow more from acquaintances to friends... and maybe something more.” Anne mumbled to herself.

R: “Hm? What did you say, Miss Allenbach? Couldn’t quite hear you.” Ron said, curiously. Anne panicked, fiddling with the gloves on her hands.

AM: “U-uhm, nothing! Nothing, good night, Ron!” She said, smiling nervously and entering her home. Ron couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he began to walk back home himself, exhausted but happy.

#the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 challenge #sims 4 decades #sims 4 decades challenge #ts4 #ts4 story #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 decades #ts4 historical #ts4 challenge #allenbach dynasty

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benefits1986 · 6 months

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Dead-ends

That hyphen on the word "dead-end" makes more sense and no sense, at once. Or it is just me and my dyslexic moody nothingness, yet again? This morning, dad was supposed to go on a long ride in ode of the long weekend. In an hour or so, we heard a loud sound that seemed like a firecracker, a loud one to be exact. Since I am still recovering, I asked him to check it out. He opened the door of our tiny house and looked around. Lo and behold, his three-year old bike tire exploded. We were talking about how mother dragon must have been breathing down my neck and today, my dad's neck, too. LOL. I asked him to thank mom because he could have gone wild on the roads especially during lusongs na malala. He stopped and looked at me. I knew he misses mom more and more.

I nebulized today because I can feel my breath shorten a bit which is not usual for me. Asthmatic era na ba talaga ako as an old lady with pets who shed their furs a whole lot this time of the year? LOL. I said sorry to Vici as he had to sleep on his own because mhie, I am literally and figuratively breathless-ish. Damn this bug. Ang lala but we are not stopping. Dad asked me saan ba ako pupunta this long weekend. LOL. I said that he should stop irking me because I can't afford a binat. A number of close friends are recovering from the flu for two weeks and counting; and I CANNOT imagine me in that scenario. Anyhow, I am supposed to backpack in no less than Bicolandia. However, I need to prioritize my health not only in time for the mega mad dash to the end of Q4, 2023. More importantly, the past days and weeks taught me that I am not getting any younger. Yes, I am not taking any maintenance drugs, thankfully; but it does not mean that I can go all out non-stop. LOLOLLOLLOLL. FML. I went easy on OD-ing vitamins and meds because my liver maybe crying out loud. I remember LA Tenorio's post which talks about his bout with CA. It's not just about the game but most importantly, the one who drives the ball and is part of the team. It begins and end with the self... always. This is easier said than done especially when I along with countless millennials are experiencing the pull of gravity; regardless of BMI, insulin resistance, number of zeroes in our bank accounts or the emoji reacts that our feed grants us. :D LELS.

We're all racing toward our own versions of dead-ends. We're all bound by our breath and nothing else, really. We're all but a speck of dust in the wind. It's funny how we often say that dogs' dead-ends are shorter than ours; however, I'd like to believe that all dogs have a life well-lived. They know what true love, compassion, loyalty and pure intention are. Enough said. I might be too dramatic for tonight's thought fart. I guess this is my way of resisting the AI boss bitch streak which is where I'm swimming in and will be in for the next X number of years. I guess I'd want to believe that there is a better version of Her (the movie starring Joaquin Phoenix) in this lifetime. I guess, humanity will prevail if and only if there'd be people who'll choose to make their versions of dead-ends worthwhile. Can I just say that I kinda feel like Anne Frank right now? So many social unrest, injustice towards the women and the disadvantaged. So many unnecessary factions that can actually be tackled if and only if people come together to over-communicate and negotiate. If only we work toward our dead-ends to heal the world instead of lambasting it more and more, maybe, just maybe, we'd be in a better ground. Let's see. For the meantime, I shall rest my case. Catch you in the next one!

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tasmiq · 6 months

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Jumu'ah Sohbet: 27 October 2023

This week presented two very deep portals into the soul through Australia to the martial art of Silat. Two blessed individuals that are purposefully Shaykh Taner's older mureeds (followers). With Shukran Ya Allah (Divine gratitude) and bismillah ...

#1. A spritely soul first appeared at 1 am from Sydney, Australia. Here, Shaykh Ibrahim described how similar to South Africa, the climate was getting into the warmth of Summer. He began by conveying love to everyone, especially Murshid (Guide or Teacher) Taner Ansari in the next life and to a smiling Anne (our spiritual mother in this life) who was with us fellow multinational mureeds (followers). In a time of political chaos of the Muslim world that is potentially at the brink of World War III - I read last night, he spoke about taking charge of our brains.

How do we take charge of feeling worried, stressed, or concerned about the things happening in the world ... how do we find peace? The idea of the matter around us tends to make us feel small and distracted, especially with regard to the news projected in social media. They take us away from what's real, and most of what we see is not true anyway, as the Muslim world being at the brink of WWIII. We don't have enough evidence or facts to have an idea of the reality. So the first thing that we have to do is find truth within ourselves in a way that we understand it and see it as a process to gain certainty. The only certainty that we have is that there is Allah, and that's that! Everything else is manifestations of Allah.

When we start looking at what's the reality, what's the truth with self inquiry about our purpose. We begin with an understanding that there is Allah and our understanding is limited, but our hearts are not limited, and most importantly, Allah's love is unlimited and unconditional! So looking for where that takes us and where we are now, and then there is family and work, and people that we have to deal with ... So we come into this part of life with a lot of habits, worries, and expectations. And then there is our heart and how we deal with that, how do we bring them together? Fortunately, Sufism is one of the best ways Shaylh Ibrahim affirmes take us through the tricky parts of life. The tricky parts are when we start to worry and stress about the future.

#2. Shaykh Ibrahim continued where we ought to listen to our spiritual hearts, which means:

i. To have no expectations for a specific answer.

ii. That we're open and trust that our hearts will not hurt us.

iii. This is how we connect to Allah and everything around us. This sometimes takes time and space, where we are busy with things to do. Setting this time apart to recentre is really important. We can quietly lie in bed and be with our hearts. The more time we spend being with our hearts, the more we will hear what it has to say.

It doesn't mean it will say anything life-threatening or -changing, but it will give us clues about its preferences. The fact that it will be a quiet type of dialog is important, we ought to set aside an hour in a month, after Salat (prayer) or after Zikr, not doing anything and with no expectations. We must just see where our hearts take us, which may actually surprise us!

#3. Then Anne beautifully mirrored Shaykh Ibrahim's expansive soul. She reaffirmed the importance of making time for our spiritual hearts, and nurturing our connection to Allah. if we spend more time nurturing our connection to the world, Shaykh Taner and her were in a Sufi symposium in California many years back, when the world was suffering with wars and this and that. He interjected at a point, "Wait a minute, does anyone know a time that was nice, peaceful, and quiet?" All the Sufi teachers gave a chuckle in the first row after reflecting on what a true point that was. We must remember that what we spend time with, is what nurtures us!

So, waking up and making the intention to stay connected to our spiritual hearts, and going to sleep making the intention to stay close to our Rabita (heartfelt connection) and our hearts, is really why we're Sufi. We are about learning to stay positively connected with Allah, becoming a devotee of Allah, and living in love and gratefulness with Him. Does this mean that we ignore what is going on around us, and we stay unaffected? No, we must remember the Hadith about when we fully connect to Allah, we become Allah's Khalifa (vicegerant), and our hands become the hands that Allah does things through. Our hearts become the heart that Allah feels through, and there are many distractions out there, so we have to hold onto Allah's rope tightly

We have our Rabita (heartfelt connection), and whatever will be a touchstone as a tasbih, crystal, or nature itself. When we fall off our connection, our touchstone will help us reconnect with our teachers and Pirs. Our brains could be our biggest enemy or helper to our hearts. How will we keep this connection between our spiritual hearts and our brains solid? Intention is our way of staying connected to Allah. We have to see what Allah does through us. We should pray for humans, nature, and animals, and for Allah’s love to be established in people's hearts. Many things divide people's hearts, even down to religion, but love unifies us! We can walk into any Church, Mosque, or Synagogue, and if we talk of the love of God, no one will have an objection to that! When we say staying positive, we are really saying staying connected because that's where love exists!

We must not fall off the path by only watching the horrific news, but our Shaykh Taner watched the news where he knew everything that was going on during the day time, so that he could pray in the night time. This is staying positive, and it doesn't mean that we are happy, but it does mean that we are connected. Because that's the most positive action that we can take. Positivity for a Sufi is not a state of mind but a state of action that says, "I am choosing Allah, and it is not me but Allah who can do something about this. I don't have any power!"

#4. Thereafter, Shaykh Ibrahim mirrored Anne's soul when he reflected that spirituality is a process, and there is no quick answer, the intention will set into motion the process which will take some time to understand how we work as everyone works in a specific way. Our job is to see how we learn with our weaknesses and strengths. We can look at these as a combination of intelligences as how we approach and view the world. Part of our job is to learn what our inventory of strengths and weaknesses are, and as we do that, we can learn the processes that interfere with our ability to be with Allah. Hazrat Abdul Qadir Geylani identified this as polishing the heart and removing the obstacles that interfere with our connection to Allah. We need to understand that this is a long process, but as a Tariqa, we are blessed to have each other where we are not alone. The sulook (path) that we have is our own, but we are doing this together where somebody has our backs.

The courage and bravery that it takes to face oneself is the highest order. If we take it on, we must give ourselves some slack and keep a sense of humour through it as it is the most serious job one takes on. We must be sure to laugh at ourselves and our nafs because that takes away its energy! When we can shine a light on one of our problems, it doesn't have as much power over us! Its energy dissipates and begins to dissolve, and it gives us the energy to work on our next nafs factor 😅 Here, Khalifa Rubina joked that it's beautiful that we can be gentle with our nafs, yes it is a serious job, yet we can laugh and relax about it. It makes it more exciting, actually! Jihad usually has a strong connotation to it, but it's a jihad. May Allah make us successful with the most beautiful jihad 😆

#5. As a former senior martial arts student pre-accident, it took an accident to make me realise that I was missing spirituality in my former study of its physicality! Our Guru Rennie spelt out that we begin with intention - thereby activation of it by its repetition, which transforms into energy. In Sufism, our strength is gained from our spiritual mentors because our egos crave stillness and ease. Our transformation comes from our connection, which we feel in our hearts. Repetition as Zikr (Divine remembrance) is enabling us to protect ourselves and our communities. Silat gives us our shield of Allah! By connecting to our proprioception, we are reminding our bodies as Zikr itself.

"This is where Tasmi has a little advantage. She used to do martial arts, and now she's confined to a wheelchair so she's imagining each of these moves with her mind. We, after all, know where our body functions are," is where Guru Rennie graciously pointed to my truth.

At one point he powerfully said,

... I breathe out, and as I do, I say, "Oh Allah, let us be the peace makers." There is no holding onto the bad news on the Middle East ...

... I have been working on a lesson plan based on the shahadah, which has to do with certainty, in being certain where you are in space. It gets deep Sufism and Silat ...

... These are all blueprints to learn things, hand and foot patterns. We learn step by step. I am trying to set up the lesson structure of the website, so this has been incredibly helpful! ...

... We're getting close to setting up the website, Insha'Allah, what do I know? I'm just teaching!

😅😇🥹

This ends my spellbinding spiritual inspirations from the week, leaving me swimming in an ocean of gratitude:

Shukran Ya Allah × infinity

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