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ihathbenobiwankenobied · 9 months

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Obi-Wan Hurt/Comfort and Whump Rec 1: Long Fics

Some of my favorite multi-chaptered or longer form fics (>10K). These are whump, sickfics, angst fics, and hurt/comfort with some very general tags and descriptions. Please make sure you note the tags on ao3 before reading.

I tried to tag everyone I could find here on tumblr, but if you see your fic and want a tag, let me know and I'll add it in. To all the writers, thank you for these fics, I have read each of them multiple times and I am fucking in love with all of them.

Here we go, in no particular order:

Good Man of War - scrapathon

Codywan, OC clones and medics, 16.2K

This fic is so well written and it has some really well-characterized OC clones, including clone medic Zero, as well as a bit of codywan (which I can't resist).

Things Hidden, Things Forgotten- sospes

Codywan, Zygerria/Kadavo arc, 23.5K

This writer has some of the best codywan fics on their roster, but this one absolutely destroys me everytime. This fic covers Zygerria and gets into some of the emotional aspects of the experience for Obi-Wan.

Shoulder the Sky - @kcrabb88

Quinobi, rewritten ending for Palpatine, 149.4K

This fic is part one of the Shoulder the Sky Verse series and is one of my favorite fics of all time. This fic is incredibly detailed, and every character get's their time in the spotlight. The Obi-Wan whump is absolutely delicious, and lasts basically the entirety of this fic. The plot follows Obi-Wan's discovery of the identity of Darth Sidious and how this changes the course of the end days of the Clone Wars.

Whispers from the Dead - @kcrabb88

Quinobi, PTSD and medical trauma, 210K as of 8.14.2023 (WIP)

Another part of the Shoulder the Sky Verse series (please read the fic above first). This fic is a WIP and every time there is a new chapter I drop everything to read it. Equally as emotionally damaging, equally as much whump, and equally perfect characterizations of every single character. I won't spoil the plot, but it's a perfect continuation of the series.

Gaping Hollow - Walpger

Gen - Obi-Wan, Cody, and Ahsoka, Force-exhaustion and hypothermia, 18.1K

Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and Cody are trapped in a cave on the ice-planet Vandor and Obi-Wan uses the Force to keep them both warm and alive. This leads to impending Force-exhaustion. This is one of the earliest Obi-Wan-centric h/c fics I read and I love how the author describes Obi-Wan's use of the Force.

Enforced Convalescence - @swbumblebee

Gen - Obi-Wan, clones, and Jedi, sickfic/illness and fluff, 12.5K

Obi-Wan is ill and requires babysitting because he doesn't really know how to rest. This fic is endlessly soft, and Obi-Wan gets taken care of for once in his life. This author writes delightfully soft fics and this one is one of my absolute favorites.

Uja Nejah - @ijustreallylovedaredevil

Gen - Obi-Wan, OC clone medic Stim, clone troopers, Cody, diabetes and medical accuracy, 34.2K

Possibly my favorite fic of all time? Perhaps? Anything by whitchry9 is pure gold and this fic is only one example. This fic follows Obi-Wan's journey through his life as a Jedi diagnosed with diabetes. Deliciously whump, and my favorite OC clone medic, stim. You might as well read the whole series: a series of fics in which Obi Wan Kenobi having a disability somehow saves the galaxy

Iviin’hiibi te Tuur - @ijustreallylovedaredevil

Gen - Obi-Wan, OC clone medic Stim, clone troopers, Cody, epilepsy and medical accuracy, 16.4K

Surprise, surprise, yet another whitchry9 fic. This one is about Obi-Wan's life with epilepsy. This fic also has Stim and has a few extra oneshots that can be read with it.

every shadow - @kenobster

Gen - Obi-Wan, Anakin, Rex, Ahsoka, Cody, 501st, Zygerria/Kadavo arc and recovery, 34.9K as of 8.14.2023 (WIP)

This fic is a WIP and at 3/9 chapters, so I am going to to use part of the author's summary here: "during the mass casualty event following Kadavo and Zygerria, Obi-Wan and Anakin seek ways to cope with trauma." I am absolutely glued to this fic, and have already read all three chapters multiple times.

Finding Obi-Wan - @stolen-pen-name23

Gen - Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka, amnesia and angst, 86.8K

For the record, I think I read the entirety of this fic in one day because I just couldn't put it down. In this fic, Obi-Wan loses his memory and finds himself in the lower levels of Coruscant.

something inside this heart has died (you're in ruins) - revanchxst (BadWolfGirl01)

Codywan (implied or pre-slash), Zygerria/Kadavo arc, 22.6K

In this fic, Cody joins Obi-wan on the Zygerria arc rather than Rex. Very painful with a sprinkling of codywan. 1000 kudos for this fic.

The Consequences of a Crash - happygiraffe

Gen or pre-slash Obi-Wan & Anakin, crash-landing injury/infection, 44.9K

ALRIGHT. Alright. This is the first long-fic I read in this fandom, and remains one of my favorites to this day. Delicious whump, a really wonderful look at Obi-Wan and Anakin's relationship, especially as Anakin has just become a Jedi Knight. I reread this one at least once a month.

See My Dreams All Die - @hellotemporaryuniverse

Obi-Wan & Cody (implied codywan), torture by Darth Sidious, 34.7K

This fic is absolutely brutal in the best way. In this fic, Anakin dies and Sidious is looking for a new apprentice. Such good whump.

From the Same Stone - @kckenobi

Gen - Obi-Wan & Anakin, concussion and poisoning, 8.1K

I'm already breaking my own rules, because this fic is under 10K, but this fic is one of my favorites and it's just long enough that it felt like it should be included on this list. In this fic, Obi-Wan and Anakin get trapped in a mine and are slowly ingesting a toxin.

|to failure, sweet victor| - littlekaracan

Codywan, angst and physical fights, 20K

This fic is as fucking bittersweet as it gets. Absolutely destroys me with every read. This fic follows Obi-Wan and Cody on Tatooine, but Cody's chip can't be removed until it has deteriorated to a certain point. As a result, sometimes Cody isn't quite himself.

battle scars - series - @calltomuster

Gen - Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and Anakin, PTSD and medical trauma, 27.2K

This series gets into some of Obi-Wan's medical trauma and why avoids medical treatment. I can't get enough of the OC clone medic, Fuzzy, and I love how well the author writes Obi-Wan's PTSD.

shoulder the sky - series - Night_Fury

Codywan, Cerasi & Obi-Wan Kenobi & Nield, Qui-Gon & Obi-Wan, PTSD, temporary death, recovery, 196.1K

What can I say about this series? Probably too much. You will just need to read it to find out. Just read it.

chronic conditions - @deniigi

Codywan and clones, epilepsy and chronic illness, 13.1K

Yet another epileptic Obi-wan fic, this one through the lens of Kix and Cody. I am absolutely mesmerized by how this author writes, and I keep going back to this one over and over again.

Six Times Ahsoka Thought Her Grandmaster Was Dead, and the One Time He Actually Was - @pandora15 and lazarusII

Gen - Obi-Wan & Ahsoka, deathfic, 12.3K

The title says it all. You will be in pain.

heavy off a golden hue - @catboydogma

Codywan, hanahaki and chronic illness, 36.7K

This is a series which looks at Obi-Wan's life with chronic Hanahaki. This is such an amazing series, another set of fics I read in one sit-down.

Suddenly this is defeat - ealcynn

Gen, Landing at Point Rain and major injury, 13.3K

This fic is in first-person POV and does an incredible job of portraying Obi-Wan's perspective on the events based on the episode Landing at Point Rain.

This incessant snow - ealcynn

Gen, Landing at Point Rain and major injury, 20.7K

Part two to the above fic. Another extremely well-written fic. I absolutely adore the way Obi-Wan is written.

We Can Be Beautiful - OuzoAthena11

Codywan, panic attacks, 23.2K

The fic summary on ao3 says it best, "Five times Obi-Wan deals with anxiety or a panic attack and one time he causes minor anxiety in someone else." Really well written and soft fic.

Count My Little Scars I've Got Dozens Inside - nuclearturtle

Codywan (as adults), angst and de-aging, 27.1K

A de-aged Obi-Wan fic where Dooku attempts to gain his trust, but inevitably, doesn't. Very angsty. Extremely angsty.

Conjuring Miracles - @kcrabb88

Gen - Obi-Wan, Leia, Tala, Vader, PTSD, 29.8K

Another one by this author. In this fic, Tala doesn't get to Obi-Wan in time, and he ends up being taken with Leia to the the inquisitor base. There, he encounters Vader.

Rapture - @galateagalvanized

Codywan, depowered character, 62.5K

I think the summary on ao3 says it best, "An independent terrorist cell has developed a weapon capable of severing the bond between a Jedi and the Living Force. They test it on High General Obi-Wan Kenobi." Wonderful whump mixed with a great story, and of course, codywan.

Always Gold - happygiraffe

Gen - Obi-Wan & Anakin, terminal illness/cancer, 10K

In this fic, Obi-Wan is dying of cancer and just wants the best for his padawan. Prepare yourself, this one hurts.

As an Obi-Wan whump writer myself, I can't help but throw a couple of my own here (not that these are by any means on par with the quality of the incredible fics above). I have linked a couple below if you are interested:

orbit me slowly

Codywan, burns and recovery, 15.3K

After an injury leaves Obi-Wan down and out, he realizes that time isn't as unlimited as he once believed

green is the colour

Codywan, sickfic and injury, 14K

Obi-Wan, sick with the flu, is cornered by hundreds of droids. Cody and Anakin come to his rescue, but there is unresolved tension between them.

Hope you all enjoy this list!

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thesherrinfordfacility · 8 months

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i did not break my own heart last night thinking about the missing 1941 scene and have it sat in my brain all of today spinning around like a fucking microwave in order to not make you lot suffer with me. and i somehow feel i may be right about this so buckle up and lets break it down.

so yes, following on from this post, i think that there is going to be a third 1941 scene. twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern. it's been literally set up like that by even bringing back 1941 into s2 in the first place. but we're missing a crucial detail because it does not - at all, really - explain how they went from evading danger from hell and having a cosy candlelit bottle of red to celebrate, to the bastard 1967 scene. we all know this, this is nothing new.

the symbolism of nightingales is probably going to cast a shadow on this. these two excellent analyses look at the meaning of nightingales in the context of R&J, and the relation that the song has to this point in time, respectively. in summary; it's a song that should be around in 1941 courtesy of vera lynn and others, and the nightingale itself carries the meaning of love being hidden and forbidden by way of it singing under the cover of darkness, before being replaced with reality and soberness - represented by the lark. the Dinner of '41 scene is set in the bookshop at night; this would parallel - that they are safe and concealed, and truths can be shared, but the writing is on the wall that stepping outside would be to shatter the illusion, so to speak. it might be that the song itself gets miracled up onto the record player, or a wireless lying about - whatever. note: i don't think they'll dance though, not given crowley in ep5, "you don't dance"... but then again, if there ISNT a kiss in s3-1941, an aborted dance seems like the next best option... the cowardly one, but i'll take it

this would also track with aziraphale having his epiphany after the church in s1-1941; specifically, in my eyes, that he doesn't necessarily just realise he loves crowley, but that crowley by way of saving his books loves him too. this is only supported by the whole of the s2-1941 scene of trusting in each other as the only way to pull off the trick, the subterfuge. this is then, again, also important in the context of what i think happens in s3-1941.

i do think aziraphale is going to bring the books up again, and what crowley did, because it needs to be addressed. the Nazis/furfur confrontation has scared him, regardless of whether he saved them both, more than he realised. its put things into startling perspective. i think he's going to bring up the books, and actually question crowley a little more as to why he did it. the repeated use of, and subsequent weird reaction crowley has to, the use of the term "friend" in s2-1941 would indicate that this is going to be a focal point in s3-1941. are they just friends? is crowley disappointed that aziraphale is still referring to him as that, after what he did? 'saving' aziraphale in the church, and then saving his books? or is aziraphale just saying 'friends' so hesitantly in both instances because he's not completely sure where crowley stands?

we as the audience know the answer to this, but they obviously do not. if one of the crucial themes of s3 is going to be resolving miscommunication, it makes sense for this scene to be the first, and last, time they communicate properly... at least, until they sort out the issues that culminated in the Final Fifteen.

so let's say they start getting into a very roundabout way of discussing what they mean to each other. there will need to be the sobering, ice-water-over-the-head realisation however, as s2-1941 demonstrated, that they cannot belong to each other, because they manifestly belong to heaven and hell respectively. crowley is still being spied on, and it firmly places aziraphale in their line of sight too. it's going to bring up the holy water discussion; why crowley asked for it - to protect himself, whether by taking out demons or taking out himself, as long as it means he - and most importantly, aziraphale - does not get hurt.

they actively confess that they want to be together, in a way that is more than they are now. aziraphale wants to, but says that they can't, because it's too dangerous. crowley suggests that no one ever has to know, they can hide it (there, in the bookshop, whilst the nightingale is singing), and even if they are found out, they can run. "hell won't just be angry; they'll destroy you..." // "no one ever has to know".

aziraphale doesn't want to have to hide it, doesn't want a halfway measure- is still thinking in black and white. crowley however thinks that something is better than nothing - thinking in the grey. but ultimately, as long as they are still shackled, they cannot do what they want, and it puts the other in danger. "surely the great thing about being a demon is that you can do whatever you want" // "you sound jealous, angel...". instead, aziraphale promises that the day that they are no longer tied to heaven or hell, they can be together; crowley scoffs, thinking that that will never happen, so they will never happen, "you're so clever! how can someone as clever as you be so stupid?!"

the reason they can't right now is because they could be caught. they would have to skulk around, be ashamed, feel guilty - and aziraphale is tired of feeling like that. because only having crowley in secret would hurt more. not being able hold his hand, or dance with him, or kiss him, unless it was in the bookshop. if hell were to find out, crowley would be killed, true, but if heaven were to find out, aziraphale could be cast out. and if crowley survived hell long enough to see aziraphale fall - he'd never forgive himself, and in a way, i don't think he'd ever forgive aziraphale either.

it's tearing them to pieces, but they have to stop whatever is happening between them in its tracks. it's acknowledged, but it's not named. this gives them plausible deniability; if they called it 'love', it would be undeniable. so, aziraphale asks for crowley to go; asks him to leave before they do something they can't come back from. crowley doesn't listen - crowds him, gets in close, and aziraphale is powerless to stop it. doesn't want to stop it. he's selfish by nature, a selfless kind of selfishness, but he wants this with all his being. and then - "this is too fast, crowley, please don't..." // "im sorry, angel. please... please, forgive me". aziraphale never gets to answer, to grant him that, because boom - the actual first kiss.

so. now that i've had to make you read that, i'm going in for the kill. let's look at everything that follows - and look at how the above might recontextualise it.

1967: the offer of the picnic, the Ritz? ie. the literal lyrics of berkeley square? aziraphale has caved in the interest of giving crowley a weapon to use if all else fails, to protect him, but that's as far as he's willing to progress. everything else is still too painful; he's on the brink of tears, promising that one day they'll be able to do what they want, to be open about how they feel, but not yet. they can't. crowley tries to push, "ill give you a lift, anywhere you want to go..." (him offering again to run away? a second chance to leg it?), and aziraphale reminding him that they can't, he can't... don't make him go too fast again, it's not fair. it also sets up perfectly that aziraphale and crowley don't speak for the next 40 or so years (as far as we're aware) until armageddon is threatened.

bandstand: mostly this is still centred around the apocalypse contextually, but i think with the above hypothetical scene in mind (the offer to hide, to run away, to be together), aziraphale is sent back to remembering their mutual confession that they've nonverbally agreed not to bring up, because it's not safe, and it's too painful. they've skirted around it, and returned instead to a tentative kind of friendship at the beginning of s1, but they're still not safe to address why seeing each other again, being so close to each other and not being able to touch is so painful. anyway - aziraphale refuses their side, but the above scene would re-view this as 'our side can't exist yet, you know this! you know why it can't!', and crowley leaves, again after pushing a bit more than aziraphale can stand.

alpha centauri: basically a facsimile of the above; same steps, same dance. but this time, crowley harks back to aziraphale's foolish (?) hope that they will be together, without having to run away, when the day comes that they don't have to answer to heaven or hell. and aziraphale smacks him right back, echoing crowley asking for aziraphale's forgiveness in kissing him, "i forgive you." crowley knows exactly what aziraphale is getting at, there - he's answering crowley's whispered plea to forgive him for pushing, for trying to force him, for acting in desperation. but he's also not answering that - he's skirting around that very thing, forgiving him like a knife would, slicing back at crowley for not only insulting aziraphale on something that is likely a genuine insecurity of his, but also putting him back in his place, for their safeties, because them being together just cannot happen. not yet.

and "please forgive me" in 1941 might seem out of character, but idk if it is; crowley knows that doing what he's about to do will hurt aziraphale, aziraphale has (hypothetically) told him as much, but he needs to do it - and seeks not benevolence or forgiveness as crowley-the-demon, but actually seems aziraphale's forgiveness, as crowley-the-person. the echo would certainly match the tone given here, in multiple ways:

the ritz: i mean, what is there to say? yes, their song is literally playing on the piano, and heralds the shift in their being out from heaven and hell, the day has finally come where they can - again, going by this entirely hypothetical scene that ive concocted - actually be together as they want to. and the nightingale literally singing outside, but as @shoemakerobstetrician beautifully pointed out, god remarks that it's covered up by traffic. so actually, if we again refer back to R&J interpretation of the nightingale, the love is still hidden, still somewhat under wraps, but can only just about be heard over the noise of the streets outside. the prohibition of them being together, of loving each other, is dwindling. and one day, it'll stop singing altogether. that day is coming, it will come, and then they can do what they please. so whilst the ritz scene may well be a mark of them starting the next chapter, it's slow to take hold, there's still hesitancy - which absolutely makes sense when we see that they are still very tentative with each other come the beginning of s2.

s2 general: aziraphale realises their freedom first; he gets excited by the dance, and being able to show his love to crowley, completely and without barriers, in the form of the ball - what he has read to be the best way to do so. he touches crowley more. he shares his bookshop with him, gifts it to crowley as being his as well as aziraphale's, this safe space that is so wholly theirs that crowley has the power to grant entry. the same with the bentley - aziraphale sees it as theirs, and crowley silently agrees, granting aziraphale the same power. crowley is comfortable in the bookshop to remove his glasses, has a place for them. the bookshop becomes tidier, more minimalist, to make crowley more comfortable in it (it is more cluttered in s1, im certain of it). it might just be the grading between s1 and s2, and lack of clutter, but the yellow is more prominent - his literal favourite colour. everything just screams that aziraphale is ready to make good on his promise from s3-1941.

crowley... for once, is the one not quite catching up. not realising the little dates here and there are literally poses them as a couple (although yes, the coffee shop one is to prep crowley for the goob jumpscare), that aziraphale has granted him the power to grant entry. aziraphale literally asking, practically begging, crowley to help him hide goob. the mf colour of the walls. the colour of the bentley. it's not until nina outright asks him if they are together that he realises how careless they've been - but wait, is it careless if they have nothing to be careful of? well, arguably crowley does, hell are still hanging around him like a bad smell... but this is what he wanted! this is what he was pushing aziraphale for! so, does he risk it? he's not sure, but he's certainly realising that aziraphale is ready, if nothing else. and by the time the ladies stage their little intervention, crowley finally realises that the confession he started in 1941 now can be fully aired, can come out into the open.

the Feral Domestic: *fingers at temples* i know i have been fairly vocal about my interpretation of this scene, and frankly - until we get this hypothetical s3-1941 scene, i stand by it - but let's say this speculation about the scene is true, and re-examine the key points in the Final Fifteen that would completely turn on their heads in terms of meaning:

literally, harking back full circle to what aziraphale promised in 1967 as what they would do when they could fully acknowledge their love, and what they did as soon as - on paper - they were free at the end of s1. this is however before he's spoken to by nina and maggie, so maybe this is what crowley was planning in terms of confessing fully to aziraphale, but after their meddling he realised that yes, they need to actually talk about it again. he doesn't understand why they're telling him what they are - because he's existed so long in gestures and gifts and not talking, literally dismissed it now as a viable option, that it doesn't even occur to him to try talking again.

which is why he does something brave, and tries to tell aziraphale instead (say it out loud, make it undeniable, put a name to it, "i love you", something that i think was crowley's actual intention before aziraphale interrupts him) when he comes back to the shop... he's so nervous, because it's vulnerable, and because the last time he did, they ended up hiding for 50-ish years.

next up:

now, im reluctant to think that aziraphale lied in the Feral Domestic, because i do think the key thing at work is his paramount need to do the Right Thing (ie. make a difference in heaven). whilst metatron obviously manipulates him, im not entirely convinced that aziraphale wholly sees through it. i don't think he knew that metatron was up to something, i think the shaking off of this naivety is going to be part of his s3 character development. but this sentence - again, especially in context of the hypothetical s3-1941 scene - must on some level frighten him. especially if you take this meta into account, aziraphale must realise at least that they were never safe, even when they were denying what they were and how they felt, it didn't make a bit of difference. now, metatron could have just been talking about the arrangement, not referring to any romantic elements of any kind, but the threat of it? no wonder he pushes for crowley to join him in heaven; he could keep crowley safe there. they could be together, and heaven - in his eyes - would be able to say a word against it.

then:

the fear sets in; crowley was too late in telling him, acknowledging that they could be together, realising what aziraphale was saying to him without words, and now heaven has come for him. plonked them right back where they were in s2-1941, but perversely mirrored; instead of hell coming for crowley with violence, heaven came for aziraphale with kindness. crowley doesn't have a magic trick he can just do on the fly, perform it perfectly when the need for it is greatest, and has to cling to the hope that aziraphale still sees them as the barrier to them, the reason they can't be together. and in true miscommunication fashion, i think aziraphale does see it, but what metatron said lingers, and in addition to being inside the institution, changing it from the inside out, in order to make a difference... he knows that whilst it's exactly the opposite of what they wanted, he needs to make them safe. better to be inside the tent pissing out, than outside the tent pissing in.

but aziraphale doesn't tell crowley what metatron said, because instead he either deliberately tries to deny the implications of it (cognitive dissonance king behaviour), or he doesn't want to panic crowley and is trying to convey to crowley that he can't speak his concerns, not when the metatron could still be watching, and instead just needs crowley to trust him, take his hand, and join him in heaven where they can be safe. doesn't tell crowley that heaven hasn't captured him in shackles again, but he's willingly held out his wrists because it's the safest thing for him, and them, to do.

so it's one thing to look at what crowley's saying, but aziraphale's reaction? before, i just found it to be out of confusion, him not really understanding what crowley was saying, but tbh i never paid much attention to it (david stole this bit of the scene - not to put down my beloved michael here, but he did). and i know others have remarked here that aziraphale is flitting his eyes to the window and looks scared and stressed, but i don't completely think that its because he's scared that metatron is watching (although, now, i will accept with the rug thing and hypothetical s3-1941 in context it is definitely playing a part), but also because he's just starting to recognise that this is a repeat of the s3-1941 scene, "this sounds familiar, we've been here before... oh, we've definitely been here before... oh shit. i still can't do this, not unless he comes with me. we still can't be together, not in the way crowley wants. the way he's trying again, now, to ask for."

but the issue is: crowley wants to run away together. again. and i totally get why, but once again, going back to 1941: it's exactly the solution that will not work. they cannot run from this. heaven, and hell, will find them. they will come for them. it wasn't an option in 1941, it wasn't an option in 2019, and it isn't an option in 2023. aziraphale begins shaking his head - crowley is confessing, but a) aziraphale doesn't run from things, it isnt in his character, and b) it's just putting them back where they started - something that they have to hide. it defeats the purpose.

and this? yeah, im sure on neither side it was meant the way im about to interpret it, more of an unspoken thing, idk... but if the bookshop is indeed their place of safety, and is where they (as far as crowley sees it) can speak and keep their love, it makes sense that crowley is telling aziraphale he needs to stay. the bookshop can be interpreted so many ways - it represents their relationship, or that crowley means him, himself - but what if we looked at it like crowley is trying now to covet it, because it's protecting them? what if he's saying, "well, if you won't run away with me, we can't be free to have our relationship as we wanted it, not unless we stay here... heaven has come for you, has come for us, and whilst they're here we can't move. so what other option is left remain in this bookshop? to never leave it, and what we have inside it, because there's no other option in which we can be together if you won't run with me."

and what if aziraphale is saying, "no, i have an option, and that's to be together in heaven! they won't be able to do anything, not when im in the position the metatron has offered me, that can be our new bookshop... nothing lasts forever - this bookshop won't last forever, it's compromised, and we can't continue to secret away what we feel inside it, it's time to move forward."

welcome to the line that breaks my heart the most in this whole goddamn scene - and tbh i think is fairly self-explanatory in the hypothetical s3-1941 context. that aziraphale is trying, once again, to tell crowley that he is offering himself, letting them be an 'us', as crowley says shortly after - that before he couldnt do it, and these arent the best of circumstances, but they can finally do it and not have to hide in the bookshop. but crowley reminds him, "hey, i was in your shoes, remember. i wanted us to be together then, and you told me you couldn't, didn't want a halfway measure - well, now i don't either. and this will be a halfway measure, because i don't think us being together in heaven is going to go the way you hope it will. i understand a whole lot better than you do." in any case, it would explain why aziraphale choses this moment to look so devastated. this is what he promised crowley, but now crowley - to his mind, in the things left Unsaid - doesn't want it... him.

and then... back to the nightingales. they're not singing at all, not even under the rumble of traffic, like they were at the Ritz. they're completely absent - day has broken, the things unspoken have now been said, and there's no denying them anymore. from crowley's point of view, there was nothing to stop them this time, but if aziraphale won't run with him, then they have to go separate ways, because there is no other way. aziraphale knows there's the possibility that the only place they could actually be safe is heaven itself, that the bookshop was never as safe as they hoped it had been, but that crowley might actually come to see that. but the fact that crowley is resigned to just... returning to 'reality', to a world that's still turning where they aren't together? despite everything they've just said? "we could've been... us." well, that hurts.

and then... the kiss. now. im still of the mind that the kiss was an Issue. i definitely think it was meant out of love and desperation, and out of possibly being a goodbye. this would echo the hypothetical s3-1941 kiss... but it was hurtful. it was abrupt, and harsh, and not at all romantic (imo). it was possessive, and almost cruel. i do think still it was a last ditch attempt, a temptation, to get aziraphale to change his mind, before crowley leaves the shop and returns to the 'real world'. but it hurts aziraphale in many different ways - but with 1941 put in there, too? crowley is just testing his resolve, trying to push him, come around to giving in. crowley asked him to forgive him the last time he kissed aziraphale, and this time - this time, aziraphale is giving him what he asked for.

#did i just do a whole ass meta based off of a completely hypothetical non-existent hc of the third part of 1941?#yes - yes i did #but the Implications would not leave my brain #make of this what you will if you even got to the end and if you did frankly congratulations #good omens

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hooked-on-elvis · 3 months

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How did Elvis took care of his awesome hair? 🚿🍃

Plus, a quick overview on one of the King's hairdressers and Memphis Mafia man, Larry Geller: How somewhat he was the friend Elvis needed and how Elvis' over-controlling inner circle banned Geller from their surroundings for a while.

I was actually looking if I could find Elvis' haircut name - precisely the type of haircut he had on the '68 Comeback Special and "Charro!" (1968), since I'm a girl and I have zero idea about the names for male haircuts but I just love that haircut he had so much I wanted to talk about it... anyway. But I found an article about Elvis' hair care routine and that sounds very interesting to me, so it might be something you wanna know too.

This is told by Larry Geller, so this means this was Elvis' hair routine starting from mid 60's on, precisely from 1964 to 1967, and possibly also from late 1972 to 1977 *, periods in which Larry was responsible for taking care of the King's hair.

Geller, who will be launching his own line of organic hair products later this year, tested out some of his first custom mixes on Elvis. “I used to go to the health food store and get a benign base shampoo and get some vitamin capsules and pour 99 percent pure aloe vera and other herbs into it, and shake it up,” Geller tells Yahoo Beauty. “That’s what I used on Elvis’ hair. He said to me, right from the get-go, ‘You can do whatever you want with my hair, but one thing — make sure I keep it!’” Source: Yahoo Beauty: Elvis Presley’s Hairstylist Spills the King’s Secrets by Lilit Marcus. The article was shared on a Graceland's website on January 28, 2014.

Elvis, you're the best, man. LOL. Just that comment is worth this entire post. It made me laugh. But the article goes on.

Then there was the daily routine. “I shampooed his hair regularly, usually every day. I would massage his scalp for a few minutes, then brush his hair at least 50 or 60 strokes. I was focused on long-term health of his hair, which was so important,” Geller explains. He also used products like vitamin E and jojoba oil to style Elvis’ hair and replace conditioner. Hairspray was used to set it, with Geller alternating multiple brands so that none of them would dry out Elvis’ coif too much. As for its color, Geller dyed Elvis’ hair every two to three weeks with a L’Oreal formula. What did the two men discuss during all that grooming? Religion, philosophy, books, life, and anything else you can think of. “Elvis had everything,” says Geller. “He was an extraordinary human being. He had the greatest eyes, the greatest voice, fans galore. He also had great hair.”

Elvis in "Frankie and Johnny" and "Spinout", both 1966 movies.

Larry Geller styled Elvis’ hair for: "Roustabout" (1964), Girl Happy (1965), Tickle Me (1965), Harum Scarum (1965), Frankie and Johnny (1966), Paradise, Hawaiian Style (1966), Spinout (1966), Easy Come, Easy Go (1967), Double Trouble (1967), and Clambake (1967). Geller prepared Elvis’ hair for the last time for his funeral in August, 1977.

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Elvis' hair must have been so good smelling and soft. Washed every day, organic products to make it smooth and shiny as it was. 🫠🥹

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Now, if you want to understand why there's a pause in Larry's association with Elvis, here it is:

LARRY GELLER QUITS WORKING FOR ELVIS IN 1967: INDIRECTLY CAUSED BY ELVIS' HEAD INJURY POSTPONING THE FILMING FOR 'CLAMBAKE'.

On March 9, 1967, Elvis was staying in him home in Bel Air, Los Angeles, and one incident (Elvis tripped over a TV cord in his bathroom and banged his head against a porcelain bathtub) caused the beginning of the production for the movie "Clambake", for which he was preparing to, to be postponed. Colonel Parker was fuming when he heard about the need for Elvis to take a couple of weeks of resting to recover from the mild concussion he had. It was a critical moment in Elvis' life. By the time the filming begun, Elvis even put up some weight from his normal 170 lb (77 kg) to 200 lb (91 kg) — I said it before, whenever this happened to Elvis' body it was because he was extremely distressed. He was an emotional eater.

Getting back to the accident, Parker even thought Elvis did it on purpose not to fulfill his Hollywood commitment since Presley clearly was not happy about his movies anymore, something Parker somehow blamed it on Elvis' spiritual quest. He pulled some strings to manipulate Elvis to remove Larry Geller from his inner circle by saying to him that all that spiritual thing was getting too much into his head, distracting him from his business obligations. If not enough Parker said to Presley that Larry Geller was brainwashing him because of some personal agenda he must have had in his mind — it's mentioned by someone, somewhere (i'm sorry, I'm not gonna remember where I've read it now) that Geller was planning on using Elvis' money to open a religious study center or something like that).

Basically, Parker thought Larry was a threat because if Elvis decided in throwing his career away, like some say he was by becoming a preacher, Parker would lose his most profitable and only client. Consequently all the religion and spiritual "shit" (as they called) that Larry Geller had put inside the King's head (as they thought), presenting him with many books and having deep conversations for hours with Elvis about several religious and spiritual subjects but not exclusively that, they also talked about meditation and self improvement as a human beings, astrology and so on, all of that was threatening Parker's plans over Elvis.

But Parker didn't make it on his own. Even Priscilla says in her memoir book that Elvis was obsessively reading non-stop and wanting to share his learning with everybody else, but his friends and herself didn't care about none of this self-improvement and religious talk. His inner circle even looked at Presley's spiritual quest as somewhat annoying, including Priscilla. Their thoughts about Larry Geller were something like "Larry changed his mind. Elvis is not spending time with us as he used to." Ugh!

Nobody actually told Larry to leave, tho, and Elvis wouldn't do such thing if he didn't have a good reason to - until this point Larry was a confidant to him, one of the only people he could talk about life and wonder what was God's plan for him, his true life mission, something Elvis would never cease trying to understand. However, Elvis' inner circle and Colonel Parker begun making Geller feel uncomfortable, unwelcome among the group, while they took Elvis' attention back to them, practically forcing Geller to decide to finally leave and go away for good, and he did it. But it was not something definite.

Many things happened in Elvis' life since Larry Geller and him went different ways but by August 1972, tho, Geller got back in contact in Elvis when he attended one of Presley's concerts in Las Vegas, and from then on Larry begins working for Elvis again, till the end of the King's life in 1977.

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis history #elvis presley history #larry geller #memphis mafia #colonel parker #priscilla beaulieu #priscilla presley #elvis hair #elvis the king #elvis fans #elvis fandom #60s elvis #70s elvis

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neonghostlights · 1 year

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A/N: We'll Meet Again by Vera Lynn is used in this chapter. I actually love that song even though it's kind of creepy. It fits the vibes. Also, I promise we get more Eddie interactions in the next chapter.

Summary: You haven’t been the same since you woke up in the hospital with memory loss after the earthquake hit Hawkins. When strange things start happening and you feel like you’ve started losing your mind, a group of strangers offer to help. Even though you’ve never met them before, they seem to know you better than you think.

Warnings: Doctors, Weight loss/loss of appetite/food, Psychiatrist/Discussion of Readers Mental Health, Overbearing Parent, Nightmares, Blood, If I missed anything please let me know, Not proofread, 18 + only, Minors DNI

Word Count: 2.7k

Eddie Munson x Fem reader

Series Masterlist

Part Three

Monday, September 1st, 1986

The pounding on your front door matched the rhythmic pounding in your head. You hopped off your spot on the kitchen counter where you had been nursing your mug full of coffee to open the door for your mother. As the door opened you could see her standing on the doorstep with a frown etched across her face.

You followed her eyes as they trailed from your hair down to your shoes. Your mother always did this thing since the quake where she observed you, mentally making notes of what was off or changed since the last time she had seen you. You were pretty certain she probably kept a journal detailing how you looked or acted each time she saw you so she could go back and compare notes.

The soft hum of the engine came from her car still running in the driveway. The sky was cloudy and gray behind her, teasing the possibility of rain.

“Your clothes look looser,” your mom said as her eyes did another critical pass over you.

“Goodmorning, Mother. Happy to see you too on this beautiful morning,” you remarked sarcastically as you waved your arms at the cloudy world behind her. You turned to leave her at the open door as you took one last sip of your coffee and grabbed your bag off the couch.

“I’m serious,” she called after you. “Have you been eating?”

You huffed as you walked out the front door and closed it behind you. She stood over your shoulder as you locked the door. “Yes, I’ve been eating.”

It wasn’t a lie. You had been eating. But definitely not as much as you used to. It wasn’t something you had done on purpose. Food just didn’t hold much appeal after the first initial bites. Honestly, you hadn’t even thought much about your food intake or weight until you noticed the way your clothes started to fit now. Everyday you promised yourself that you would eat more just to push it off onto the next day. You should have known your mom would notice.

Your mother pursed her lips as she observed you climbing into the passenger seat of her car. The car that she has had for three years yet still had that new car smell.

“I have a good feeling about this new doctor,” she stated matter of factly as she started the car and reversed from the driveway.

You gave a half hearted hum before she continued. “I mean, he’s supposed to be the best neurologist in the Indianapolis area.”

“Do you really mean that or are you saying that because you know his parents?” you asked with an eye roll.

Your mom took a deep breath but didn’t say anything else as you reached over and turned on the radio. It was going to be a long car ride to Indianapolis.

The exam room was sterile and white. You currently sat on the exam table in the center of the room. The thin protective paper underneath you crinkled with each impatient swing of your legs.

Visiting the neurologist always made you nervous. You were always a little medical mystery that no one wanted to take the time to solve. The doctors in the hospital had made it seem like it was a cut and dry case of a head injury. But every time you’ve been to the doctor recently they seem to either not know or not care enough to dig deeper into why you weren’t getting better.

Hence why your mother had weaseled you into this new doctor's practice. She really did care and wanted to see you improve. Her way of showing it was just different than what you would expect.

“Can you please sit still and act your age?” your mother wrinkled her nose at the now ripped paper underneath your thighs.

“Sorry. I’m just nervous,” you muttered.

Her face softened at your admittance. It wasn’t often you admitted that your health worried you. You were usually the one brushing things off or always claiming that things were okay.

A loud knock sounded from the closed door before the doctor made his entrance.

Dr. Coleman was younger than you had expected. His charming smile when he walked into the room practically made your mother swoon from her chair.

You fought back the urge to gag.

“Well, hello there,” he said as he took your mother's hand.

“When Connie told me her son was a hot shot doctor I couldn’t believe it! Thank you so much for getting us in so soon!” She exclaimed.

“No problem at all,” he said before he turned to you. “And you must be my patient. Nice to meet you,” he said as he reached his hand out to you. You didn’t miss the way his tone softened greatly when he spoke to you. Like he was trying not to spook a wild animal.

You sent a quick nod as a greeting before he sat in a circular rolling chair and started to pull papers from the file he held under his arm.

“I looked over all of your records from the hospital and your previous doctor. I’m honestly very surprised with what I found,” he remarked. “But before we get into that, how are you feeling lately? What symptoms are you experiencing?”

You cleared your throat, not wanting to answer this question in front of your mom. You could only imagine the drama it would cause if you asked her to leave, plus having to deal with the interrogation on the ride home to Hawkins.

“Well, I'm still having daily headaches, memory loss, nightmares, and nosebleeds. I’ve recently noticed a lack of appetite and I think that’s made me lose some weight. Also, I think I’m having hallucinations.”

Your mothers head snapped to look at you. Dr. Coleman nodded like he wasn’t surprised.

“What kind of hallucinations?” The doctor asked as he read over your chart again.

You tried to swallow, your throat suddenly feeling very dry under your mothers glare. “Uh, well seeing things, hearing things, feeling things like I’m dreaming but I’m awake the whole time. And then I wake up and everything is normal.”

“Mhm,” he hummed as clicked off the overhead light and rolled closer in his chair and shined a bright light into your eyes, making you jump. He gave you an apologetic smile as he continued to look at your eyes and then moved on to using his cold hands to awkwardly palpate around your skull.

“Well, I think I have an idea of what might be going on,” he rolled back away from you and turned the light back on. He grabbed some prints of what looked like blurry pictures of a brain and held them in front of you and your mother so you could both see. The pictures were hard to see with the way he was holding them and you couldn’t really tell what you were looking at.

“These are some copies of your last brain scan and your first brain scan from the hospital when you first came in. I looked over the originals intensely and there’s one thing I noticed between the two of them. There’s no sign of any brain damage or injury in either of these. I’m looking at a perfectly healthy brain in both scans.”

“So what does that mean?” your mother asked as she put a hand to her own head.

“It means I think the initial diagnosis in the hospital was wrong. Looking at your records nothing indicated that you had hurt your head besides loss of consciousness, memory loss, and a headache. It’s my professional opinion that what you’re experiencing is psychiatric in nature, not physical. I have a list of great psychiatrists in the area that I think will be very beneficial for you.”

The room started to spin as you worked harder to get air in and out of your lungs. “I am not crazy,” you gritted out.

Your mother gasped at your tone. “I’m not saying you’re crazy,” the doctor said calmly. “It’s not unusual for ladies your age to feel a lot of pressure and stress, especially with some of the recent events around Hawkins. Perhaps the earthquake or some other event was a breaking point for your stress. The psychiatrists on this list should be able to find the right medication to help you.” He handed the list to your mother who was teary eyed and nodding along to every word he said.

“I am not stressed or under pressure. I hit my head in a freak accident. That’s it.” You jumped down from the table, ready to make your escape from the room.

“I know this is hard to hear. But physically the scans are telling me a different story. I wish you both the best of luck,” he said as he backed out of the room and shut the door behind him.

You didn’t spare your mom another glance as you stomped out of the office and into her car.

She stayed quiet as well for the majority of the ride home, sensing that you weren’t in the mood to talk. As you got closer to Hawkins, her need to say what was on her mind won.

“I’ll call in the morning and make you an appointment with one of the doctors on the list,” she said quietly, probably hoping you wouldn’t hear her.

“You can do that but that doesn’t mean I’ll go,” you snapped back. Your mom probably didn’t deserve your attitude, you were acting more like a fifteen year old than a twenty year old but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad. You knew you weren’t crazy like that stupid doctor had suggested.

Your mom took a deep breath before she spoke again. “I don’t see how it would hurt to get another perspective.”

She didn’t get it. She didn’t understand what it felt like to feel like this everyday. It was one thing to think of yourself as crazy, but to hear it from another person was too much. It made it too real. From not remembering certain things to the comments that Miss Joan had made in the grocery store that day, it felt like you were being left out of something. All of that on top of the fact that your mom had never actually told you how you ended up in the hospital made you suspicious.

“I’ll go if you tell me what happened to me during the earthquake,” you offered.

“What do you mean? We’ve talked about this before,” she said quickly.

You shook your head. “No, every time I ask any questions you change the subject. I just want to know where I was when it happened. Did you see me get hurt? How did I get to the hospital?”

She puckered her lips like she was physically stopping herself from saying anything damning. When the silence stretched for too long and it became clear that she wouldn’t be saying anything, you took matters into your own hands.

You smacked your hands against the dashboard, ignoring the sharp stinging in your palms. “God damnit, Mom! Just tell me!”

The car suddenly braked, causing you to jolt in your seat before it veered sharply to the side of the road. A passing car horn could be heard as someone honked at your mothers sudden maneuvers.

She sat staring straight ahead once the car was stopped and the flashers were on. Both her hands rested perfectly still against the wheel.

When she finally spoke it startled you. “I don’t know what happened to you. I was out of town for work and I got a call that you were in the hospital. When I asked what happened he said-“ She stopped herself abruptly, clamping her teeth together quickly.

“He who?” You demanded.

“I misspoke,” she said as she put the car back in gear and pulled out onto the road again. “Let's go get you something to eat before I take you home.”

You didn’t ask anymore questions for the rest of the day. If you were going to get any answers, you were going to have to go about it a different way.

You hesitantly walked into the office of your new psychiatrist.

The room was bleach white from the walls to the chairs, giving it a cold clinical feeling. Two chairs sat in the center of the room separated by a low coffee table. The coffee table housed a container of tissues, and oddly enough a record player.

You assumed that maybe the psychiatrist liked to use music during his sessions. You think you have heard before that music helps access certain parts of the brain. You don’t remember where you’ve learned that from.

You sit in the smaller chair that you assumed was designated for patients and place your forearms against the armrest, attempting to get comfortable as you wait for the doctor to arrive for your appointment.

You're surprised when you hear a slight crackling as the record player starts to play.

We’ll meet again

Don’t know where, don’t know when

The haunting tune unsettles you slightly as you shift in your seat, turning to face the door in hopes that it would make the doctor arrive faster.

“Well, hello there,” a man's voice said suddenly. You nearly jumped out of your seat when you realized the chair across from you was no longer empty.

In it sat a man wearing a white collared button down shirt, tucked neatly into white pants. His choice of outfit nearly made him blend in with the rest of his office. His blonde hair was styled and gelled perfectly on the top of his head.

But I know we’ll meet again

Some sunny day

He must be the doctor.

He gives you a kind smile full of bleach white teeth. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He’s soft spoken and sounds kind. You immediately feel comfortable in his presence.

“It’s okay,” you croak out. “I’ve been a little jumpy lately.”

His smile widens at that. “So I’ve heard. How else have you been feeling lately?”

You cleared your throat as you glanced back down at the record player that was still playing. You launched into the usual rundown of your symptoms. “Headaches, nosebleeds, nightmares-”

“No, no, no. Not your symptoms. Your feelings. How do you feel?”

Keep smiling through

Just like you always do

‘Til the blue skies drive the dark clouds

Far away

Your mouth was suddenly dry as you tried to think of an answer for him. “Um, tired, upset, confused, a little scared sometimes…”

“Guilty?” He interjected.

You tilted your head at him in confusion. “Why would I feel guilty?”

“He got hurt because of you. He was trying to protect you. Don’t you remember?” The psychiatrist's voice started to change. Gone was the soft spoken tone. His voice sounded deeper and distorted, making your hair stand on end.

You shook your head wildly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He let out a deep laugh. “The sooner you stop fighting then the sooner your suffering will all be over.”

Large black vines slithered out from under your chair, wrapping around your arms and pinning you into place. You thrashed against them in an attempt to get free but the more you moved the tighter they held you.

You watched in horror as the skin peeled off of his face and his hair melted away. Revealing disfigured skin of a monster. His once kind looking blue eyes were now cloudy and reptilian as he examined you like prey.

So will you, please, say hello

To the folks that I know?

Tell them I won’t be long

The walls of the office started to peel and drop away, leaving you in the middle of the world that you had only seen in your nightmares. Red flashes of lightning struck in the distance, Screeching of monsters echoed throughout the space.

You pulled against your restraints in another feeble attempt to free yourself.

The monster leaned in closer. “Don’t worry. We’ll meet again.”

You woke from your nightmare abruptly as you thrashed against the blankets. Blood dripped down your chin as it ran from your nose. You didn’t bother to wipe it away as you tried to catch your breath.

Maybe the doctor was right. Maybe you were crazy.

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starrbright · 22 days

Text

Last Degree Of Nature | Nanami K.

Stay longer in me. Take root. Vera Pavlova, A Weight on My Back (tr. Steven Seymour)

January 5, 2024—April 5

Last continuation for Prof. Nanami: X | X | X | X |

3k words. Sickening fluff, honestly. No smut, really sorry for that. 🙇🏽‍♀️🫶🏼🫂

image used: X | a quote i used is from the 2014 film 'about time'

I had a bad case of baby fever after december 14, so......yeah. And I really was going through it and I thought of this.

Still going through it.

A few months has passed. Everything continues to go well with Nanami. Too well. Is it stupid? Honestly, you could swear it is. You sigh under your breath, tutting your head sharply to wipe away the thoughts but it comes back, the voice of your professor speaking up almost unheard, what she discusses just passes by through your ears.

Your fingers gripped around your pen tightly and loose and tighten again and again in the moment of being filled with worrying bits, at least is is for you. It's difficult not to fall on your head on the table and try to bear away what's been stirring you for a bit of awhile now.

How could you even begin to explain what you're going through. Maybe it's normal. Maybe it's too early.

And it is normal. But it is too early.

Yet, God....like again, how could you not be in the state you're in--when the two of you have been nothing but lovesick fools. When he's been someone so, a man you never dared to wish for.

You've lost count how many times you drifted far off from replaying memories in a loop.

The first time you stepped into his home, it was one what would expect for a man like him. A home out of a novel. Grand but mirrored familiarity. You were glad for him to have seem that he knew of the warm little things that makes life big before he met you.

That's what it seemed. If one would only look once and flat, they'll only see how he presents himself; gray. And a big part of him is, his life and what makes him he.

Figurines of what a home is to fill the spaces.

And then along came you to be the muse of his colorful but now he realizes--empty canvases.

There never seemed to be a missing piece even when he seeked out to satisfy his flesh. Even when you arrived in his life only for both of your indulgence. There never was.

Until his heart wanted itself to be given to you. Until he offered and you accepted it. He found there were endless crevices that could be filled more beautifully.

To see you free roaming in his home. To have you in his arms, laying back against his chest as you read a book, with him savoring the rest he can have with you, free from the confines of his work for a while.

The sun beaming through the windows while the wind flows against the curtains. The shine of the sun on your brown skin, the specks of dust he sees from the light, every little marks and dots of hairs on your arm. With him holding you as he beholds all those; he's frozen in time. And what he'd give to capture every moment. To let it flow endlessly.

It doesn't need to be said, it's in all of it already anyways--at least not yet. One would say there's the kind of rush in the beauty of just letting it be.

Though how long? How long until it can be sees as not too early?

How much more walking through it to be enough?

A few times you two have been in the café you're now in to study, to wash yourself away from the distractions. Him, who else.

Though it's been less than ten minutes of being in the place, after being in the queue and now that it was your turn to order. The cashier already familiared of you, has a little smile, almost barely showing but it's a knowing one--and when you felt a presence behind you, she laughs.

Widened eyes as you recognized the scent of a perfume, the way those arms encircled around you, the squeeze of fingers to the side of your stomach. His voice. " Angel. " He greets sweetly with a kiss on your cheek.

You couldn't find your words, too abashed at his sudden presence, let alone in public as you both stand in the line, let alone the fine man holding a boquet in his other hand as he holds his woman. "Let's go." He says before you could even protest, he's already given an ample of money for someone who didn't buy anything, he's already got your things from the table you're supposed to be--he's already had you sitting in his car.

"I'm supposed to be studying." You spoke at last.

"I know." he only chuckles. "But I missed you." He simply adds as he leans close you, a hand delicately firm on your cheek to kiss your lips. The thick presence of his perfume dizzying against the vibrant scent of the flowers--to the way he drowns you with kisses.

How unfair.

And how cliche it is. You hadn't thought Nanami would have ever pulled the kind of act, In the library, among the aisles of bookshelves, you're pinned back against a shelf as he kisses you. But then again he has fucked you more than enough times in the campus.

You couldn't say it wasn't adorable that he asked for this. His office was a building away from where you're both in as he's to lecture in a few minutes and you to attend your own classes, so that is where you ended up; making do in the library for a mere time of kissing.

"This is risky." You uttered in haste the second you both stepped in the quiet facility, to which he only hushed with another one of his, 'I know'

Next thing you know, he's hovering tall in front of you, one of his arm laying against the shelf, the other on the side of your face. "Hi." He breathes. There's no smile on him. How is it possible his eyes says otherwise.

"Hi." Nothing from your voice but just a gentle mouth of the word, a mere smile painting to be wide.

Then it slowly fell as his thumb grazes on your lips. "Let me kiss you." he still utters those kind of words. Never fails to take your breath each time.

Resolve melting away every time.

The last one recently, one which is all too vivid in your head--was the last straw to have enable all the want for more.

It was the morning of Sunday when Nanami called. yourself fresh from breakfast and was just about to wash the dishes. He tells it was Gojo who planted the idea in his mind just last night from their usual night out to drink, and he himself wasn't opposed to said idea--he liked it, really. Despite he wouldn't credit Gojo too much for it, of course. A dinner later in his home, that is. With the two men and their children.

How could you say no?

You were too happy to prepare and cook all those dishes with him in his kitchen before the night arrives. Amidst a few conversation about Gojo and Geto, their children as well, the conversation went to a boy named Yuuji.

The said boy whom Nanami has invited for later. Telling of the little story as you continue all the work in the kitchen,

Evident that the man is very fond of the boy. Spoke of how Yuuji's late grandfather was the owner of the flower shop he sometimes go to before you both happened, the said boy taking over after while still studying along in the same school and class with Megumi. Spoke of how a good kid he is. Spoke of how the boy told him that his grandfather would have liked to meet the woman Nanami has found, the old man would've been over the moon to know the flowers Nanami usually buy for his house now would be for a lover. Spoke of how Yuuji was always thrilled when he walks in the shop, having known it'll be for you. Which all led to him insisting the kid to go for the dinner, telling how he literally brightened up when he heard it.

You couldn't wait for the night to arrive.

But nothing could have prepared you for it.

As some have said, 'no one can prepare you for the love people you love can feel for them.'

All so suddenly your nerves flutter rapidly when footsteps and voices make itself known further. "That would be them." Nanami says with a little laugh following as he wipes his hands with a kitchen towel before heading to them.

Though you only remain standing behind the island, your hands fresh off the powdered sugar from sprinkling them on the now done strawberry cake you made; a dessert for the kids, but of course much more for Nanami and Gojo that your man has told you who has a bigger sweet tooth than anyone else.

Your wandering mind filled with nervousness in those short seconds was abruptly interrupted with adorable loud voices of little girls as they run in the kitchen and around to the dining room. The three professors following after and behind them is who you figured to be Megumi and Yuuji. The pink haired boy must be certainly Yuuji, by his sunshine air and the beautifully arranged flowers he holds, eyes wide with a big smile. Megumi besides him with the jet black hair and cool demeanor he has. The little girls Nanami has told earlier, Nanako and Mimiko who were now running back to the kitchen, towards where you are, little hands reaching up on the edge of the counter and tiptoeing. Loudly delighted with the cake they see.

"They really rubbed off from Satoru." Geto huffs, a mere annoyance in his voice but the fondness in his calm eyes tells so much.

"They're children." Nanami reasons expectedly, the calmest smile on his face, eyes flickering to you. Your heart just keeps on fluttering.

"And I'm your soon to be husband." None other than Gojo speaks as ever proud he is, to which only Geto, Nanami and Megumi rolled their eyes to. You, Yuuji, Nanako and Mimiko however--and despite the little girl's already knows, they have the same look of awe you and Yuuji have. "That's....that's lovely." You speak up softly, wiping your hands clean.

"Congrats." Yuuji barely stopped himself from seemingly shouting.

Then Geto laughs lightly, "Thank you." Walking up to the counter with the bag he holds, delightfully reeking of a savory scent, Gojo as well with two bottles of expensive looking alcohol. "I asked him just last night--" he begins with a wide grin but was cut off by his fiance. "Barely. He was too drunk when he did." Geto scoffs as he takes out a food container from the paper bag. "I had to get hammered, I was too scared!" Gojo protests as he pop opens the one bottle of alcohol and looked for glasses.

"He couldn't have done it normally despite feeling so." Nanami chimes in simply as he starts to set up the dishes on the table, making Gojo just following him across the dining room with the glasses now on his hands, his own already filled as he goes with his mouth.

Leaving you with Geto as the two boys goes there as well, lightly playing along with the little girls as they converse.

"It's nice to see you again." Geto says while now helping you prepare all the little things for dinner to begin and go well. "In this kind of setting, I mean." he adds, a light chuckle he makes. Having seen you a few times in the campus, of course, with Nanami secretely or just around. "And I'm glad, by the way."

You nod, abashment about your relationship with their friend almost not there anymore. "The same to you. And I'm glad as well." Happily, you smile.

At last dinner began. If simply meeting them all has had your heart growing so much, you couldn't be more wrong. You were worriedly too happy to be wrong.

That's where you begin to get.....scared.

And how you now find yourself after days and days of contemplating it--standing in front of the door of Geto's office.

Doubts of confronting it plainly gone, you were just aching to let it all out, but not yet to the man himself, so instead it's Geto. You think it's only fitting for you to go to him.

Sighing almost tiredly, you then knock on the door, when you walk in and he's met by you. He just lightly smiles and nodded for you to go in. You sit on the chair across from him where he's still on his laptop, as your eyes are nowhere on particular, gathering the bare strength to speak it out at last--he just waits for you speak, having already as expectedly guess what the subject will be or rather who about.

You breathe deeply as your head turns away before it goes back to him.

"I think I want to marry Kento."

Geto's focus stops, fingers typing away on a sudden halt, gaze now to you and eyebrows raised, "Ah." His very mere shock fades slowly into a small smile.

"Yeah," you let out barely, lolling your head to the side. Your ears at last hearing those words, it suddenly feels ridiculous. But the arrow has already been shot in you. Too much and maddening it is, still you don't want it to go away.

You find yourself then to be unwavering. The resolve finding its permanent stay.

A shaking breath flows out of your mouth, a trembling hand ghosts on your forehead as you look down. "I want to marry him." Never mind your unsteady voice, you want to say it endlessly.

Nostalgia waves pass by Geto with what reveals. Several months ago, Nanami spoke you're the one. His everything. And there you are now with an admission any longing being would dream to hear for their own. He looks at his engagement ring. A few weeks earlier, his lover was clinging to him as he tear up, drunk, asking to marry him, rambling how he wants eternity with him, promising he'll be the bestest father for their children.

He didn't ever think their lives would be this happy, he only hoped.

Geto is wordless to say the least.

His eyes back on you, it's the mellowest you've ever seen on him, mouth opening slowly, it's what he thinks to say then. "Satoru wouldn't be too happy with a double wedding. You know how extra he is--"

A breathless laugh you make in a light disbelief, "I'm serious." You say in exasperation, tears starting to fill your eyes.

Geto just smiles gently, not saying aything. What more could be said when you're just too happy for a friend, to contentedly know that until an end, they won't be alone.

"What are you waiting for?"

Going on with your day after was still as distracting, it wasn't heavy anymore though. You don't remember when was the last time you were excited to see him again without any hesitations.

When you do at the end of the day, in his house, finding rest in each other's warmth, your heart remains to be thrumming of that same thrilling joy when time has allowed you both to be with each other again, that same rhythm of feeling when you first began to have a crush on him.

And in the quietness, you deem it's time to make it known to him.

As he keeps himself cozy with his face buried on your neck, your soft body laying against his chest and in between his legs--gently, you rose from his hold and awaking him in the process. You sit yourself back on the couch as he looks at you curiously, while ever sweetly gentle, your hands still twined as he makes so. So much for how much more.

After all the time of thinking about it, you didn't see the need nor want to beat around.

" I want to marry you. "

How does one even take that in?

You were sure you've never seen your lover lose the composure on his face like that. It's nothing but pleasant.

"Marry me." The bliss in saying it, truly.

And hearing it from you, seeing your smile you evidently keep from widening, the stars in your eyes. You've taken him from his paradise to a place far greater than he would ever thought of.

You've truly taken him aback this time. He hadn't seen you were visioning the same piece as him. It seemed both of you were going through the same dilemma after all. Drowned too deep to have seen it.

You hadn't seen his eyes looking at your ring finger when his hand is entangled to yours, thikning of all the kinds of rings you'd love. How could you have possibly know he's been wishing for you to never leave his house when the night falls, for him to wake each morning with you in his arms, to get up earlier than you and make you breakfast, have and enjoy meals together without looking at the time.

You didn't see what he was painting with his eyes upon dinner that one night. How you light yourself a flame and the kids a magnet to you.

Suddenly when he holds you from behind, his hand yearned to feel a life within you. Voices of little ones echoing pleasantly in his mind. Angels running around his home.

Despite unspoken, unknown; you've been meeting halfway.

Nanami let his lips break into an opened smile, a little laugh breathing out as he tightens his twined hand on yours. "You read my mind."

Your cheeks could already hurt from smiling so much, but couldn't find any words after, you only laid your hand on both of yours, pressing your lips on his knuckles and feel your eyes ache from the tears collecting. Your lover's smile turned gentle as he sees you. " Marry me. " He murmurs. Simply indulging himself in saying it. "I'll marry you. And you of me." He says, returning your kisses on both of your hands.

You feel what he feels when he said them, and he feels what you felt when you answered yes.

Laughter flows in the halls of his home when he takes you in his whole hold once again.

"Satoru wouldn't want a double wedding--"

"I would not dream of being in the same altar at the same time with that man."

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 Finally done with this 😭😭😭🗣️🙏🏽 i am so tired. just went to our dance practice for a subject and finished this after and still have to type it all after just writing it on paper as usual😀🫠 but here we are, and back home and still am miserable, ive been so busy with college, and it's midnight here, i have a group reporting tomorrow and i barely studied about it🫶🏼🫂 anyways, i thought of writing my little thoughts about this story, im sorry if it's silly or shit😭

i had nanami in his thirties, while our reader is twenty-five. i hadn't thought of what she's taking, really. i honestly forgot what nanami's expertise is 🤸🏾‍♀️ geto teaches art and field study 1, while gojo is in physics and physical education. they had nanako and mimiko just after they were born, heard from someone they know that the little girls' mother couldn't raise them, so they referred themselves willingly. megumi in an orphanage after the girls have grown. i really wish i involved shoko and haibara😔😔😔😔💔😔💔😔💔😔💔😔 let's just think of them being there. especially in their weddings😁 also while at campus earlier, i randomly chose songs in my playlists to queue and one of them is 'that part' by lauren spencer smith and i realized how this work is fitting for that song 😭💔😭😭😭💔😔😭💔

#starr's creations 🌟🍭#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento smut #nanami kento fluff #nanami x reader #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jjk anime #jjk manga #chubby!reader #anime x chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen x plus size reader #x chubby reader #jjk nanami kento

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probablyintensemuses · 6 months

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INCOMING: A DESPERATE COLLEGE STUDENTS OATHBOUND PREDICTIONS!!!!

CC @mageofspace__ on IG

TRACY!! I JUST FELL TO MY KNEES IN THE MIDDLE OF WALMART! THE WHOLE GANG!! I’m so happy to see Valec, Alice, Will, & Mariah in the flesh like wtf! But while we are here, I want to talk about some of my Oathbound predictions…because I can. ❤️⚔️💙

P.S. IF YOU HAVEN’T READ LB OR BM I SUGGEST YOU DO NOT CONTINUE! Spoilers ahead!

• Okay first, I truly believe that Bree has had her squire and kingsmage all along, Nick and Sel. I mean just with the relationships between those three, there is no way it goes any other way.

also, Alice will wake from her coma and have somehow inherited powers from Will as she was LITERALLY breathing his aether signature in. Like I’m not 100% sure how that would work, but we’ve seen it in media before, take Monica Rambeau and Wanda’s hex for an example! Maybe that interaction with magic will awaken Alice's own unique magic too, or maybe it's closely related to Bree again how the Mesmer did too in LB.

Regardless, when she awakens I think bby girl will be given an even more important role in the finale of this series. Maybe like being Will's squire...

• it’s going to come out that not only is shadow daddy, IYKYK not spoiling for potential new readers who have no sense of self-preservation and are reading this anyways, is not only Sel's father but VALECHEZ��s! Like not only would that be pure comedy considering how they were at each other's NECKS in BM, but it makes sense as to why Sel was succumbing to his demonia so fast, faster than others, maybe because a little more demon than others…

•I think this new magic system that Tracy is cooking up is going to tap into Natasia and Faye’s relationship a bit more and even Sel and Bree’s.

I also think it’s going to be the solution to not only Sel’s demonia, but Bree’s bloodmark, and even abatement and all these fucking legendborn oaths. I mean think about the word OATH, practically meaning something one HAS to abide by. Vera took an oath of sorts with the blood mark “one daughter at a time for all time.” The legend born and their oath of service and all this, as I call it, greedy magic which shortens their life spans, the Merlins too! What if, just what if, Faye and Natasia found a way to combine both their forms of magic (root + aether + blood craft) and created something entirely new? Something so potent and powerful, defying these “oaths” or what you could call them, curses, to cure all these things…and what if since Bree is from Faye’s lineage, sel from Natasia, what if they can do it together too.

• I think we will learn more about the Morgaine. More on Nick….hmm. A lot of LB fans keep calling him boring, but with his mom's disappearance, and the fact that Tracy is too good of an author to simply leave his arc hanging, I don't trust it. Maybe he will even go rogue, I'm not too sure ATP, but don't sleep on Nick!

• Lastly for my final predictions…more like a pipe dream. I really, for the life of me, need Bree to pull a Wanda from episodes 8-9 of WandaVision with Shadow Daddy.

We know Bree is smart and clever, this ain’t new! So, I need her to take what she has learned from shadow daddy, and then pull a clean uno reverse, and get out of there! EXPEDITIOUSLY!

Then from there, I need her to find Sel and Nastia (preferably in some cute cabin in the woods, and Natasia needs to be a MILF) this revelation of Bree's survival prompts Natasia to discuss the above ^^^ She and Bree get to work! Sel is now cured and they can get these oaths removed!!! Once these oaths are removed, the REGENTS ARE TOAST, TOR TOO! Then we get to work on Camlann in book 4! Cuz that’s how tf Tracy does it! Period!!

THESE ARE JUST MY PREDICTIONS, NONE OF THESE ARE CANON!! All I have to say is I'm fucking so excited about this book and even though it's still two years out I'm trusting Tracy's expertise to bring us something DE-LI-CIOUS! Also is it too much to ask that if this is adapted for television to have it animated, we know how much Tracy loves and takes influence from anime... it's only fair, and I feel can make for a more accurate and dynamic visual medium.

That's all for now. PEACE.

#legendborn3 #legendborn #bloodmarked #tracy deonn #legenbornpredictions #legendborn cycle #bree matthews #kingbree

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splatoonpolls · 2 months

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Mentally I am not the best so

Have this

*still stream their music and your soft if you disagree”

Extra things

You can’t leave, there needs to be at least 10 minutes of music discussion. There’s only one bottle of aloe Vera drink. You can not bring with you outside items like a book. But there is a computer that has league of legends. Though you can only play it for 10 minutes max.

#why I deleted TikTok #saying this as a system fan who hates the drummer #polls #I love polls

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loiladadiani · 11 months

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Emperor Nicholas I (1796 - 1855) and Empress Alexandra Feodorovna (1798 -1860 - nee Princess Friederike Luise Charlotte Wilhelmine of Prussia

Nicholas I, the Iron Tzar, and his sons

This couple was the first “Nicholas and Alexandra” in the Romanov Dynasty. They were Nicholas II's great grant-parents.

It was said that he was the best-looking man in Europe. She was tall and fair and enjoyed jewels, gowns, and balls. They loved each other, and their union was not unhappy, but he did not remain faithful to her (after he died, his last mistress was employed as Alexandra’s lectrice, and they became friends.) Nicholas and Alexandra had seven children, four sons, and three daughters. Those four sons would ensure that the generation of Romanovs following them would not want for male heirs. As a matter of fact, there would be too many Grand Dukes, making it necessary for his grandson, Alexander III, to change the Pauline laws, re-defining who would be considered a Grand Duke or Duchess, among other things (only grandsons/grandaughters of a Tzar would be Grand Duke/Duchesses; great-grandsons and so on would be Princes and Princesses of the blood).

Nicholas I with his four sons: Tsarevich Alexander Nikolayevich (1818 - 1881 - future Alexander II), Grand Duke Konstantin Nikolayevich (1827 - 1882), Grand Duke Nikolay Nikolayevich (1831 - 1891), and Grand Duke Mikhail Nikolayevich (1832- 1909.)

According to the literature, Nicholas raised his two elder sons very strictly but had more of a paternal relationship with the younger two. His priority was to bring them up so that they were true soldiers and so that when Alexander inherited the throne, the other three would help and support him. And they did. Nicholas I adored his daughters and was devastated when his youngest daughter Alexandra (better known as Adini), died. (His daughters would be discussed in another post.)

Below are the sons of Nicholas I and their spouses:

1. Emperor Alexander II and his first wife Empress Maria Alexandrovna (born Princess Wilhemine Marie of Hesse); Issue listed below (Only legitimate issue surviving to adulthood listed; not in birth order)

Grand Duchess Marie

Grand Duke Nicholas Alexandrovich

Alexander III

Grand Duke Vladimir

Grand Duke Alexei

Grand Duke Sergei

Grand Duke Pavel

2. Grand Duke Konstantin Nikolayevich and Grand Duchess Alexandra Iosifovna (Princess Alexandra of Saxe Altenburg); Issue listed below (Only legitimate issue surviving to adulthood listed; not in birth order) - They would be known as the "Konstantinovichi"

Grand Duke Nicholas

Grand Duke Konstantin

Grand Duke Dmitry

Grand Duke Vyacheslav

Grand Duchess Olga

Grand Duchess Vera

3. Grand Duke Nikolay Nikolayevich (the Elder) and Grand Duchess Alexandra Petrovna of Russia, born Duchess Alexandra Frederica Wilhelmina of Oldenburg. Issue listed below (Only legitimate issue surviving to adulthood listed; not in birth order); Known as the "Nikolayvichi”

Grand Duke Nicholas Nikolayevich

Grand Duke Peter Nikolayevich

4. Grand Duke Mikhail Nikolayevich and Grand Duchess Olga Feodorovna (nee Princess Cecilie of Baden) Issue listed below (Only legitimate issue surviving to adulthood listed; not in birth order) They were known as the "Mikhailovichi" (although they preferred to be called the "Michels;" the family called them the "Wild Caucasians" because they grew up in the Caucus and had strong opinions that they voiced loudly)

Grand Duchess Anastasia Mikhailovna

Grand Duke Nicholas Mikhailovich

Grand Duke Mikhail

Grand Duke George

Grand Duke Alexander

Grand Duke Sergei

Grand Duke Alexei

The children and grandchildren of these couples would be directly involved in one way or the other in the Great War, the Russian Revolution, the Civil War in Russia, and the overthrow of the monarchy and the Romanov Dynasty. Some would lose their lives, others would lose children, brothers, and spouses, and all would lose their country, status, and privileges.

#russian history #romanov dynasty #imperial russia #Emperor Nicholas I #Emperor Alexander II #Grand Duke Konstantin Nikolayevich #Grand Duchess Alexandra Iosifovna #Grand Duke Nikolay Nikolayevich #Grand Duchess Alexandra Petrovna of Russia #Grand Duke Mikhail Nikolaevich #Grand Duchess Olga Feodorovna #vintage photography

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otherpeoplesheartachept-2 · 5 months

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day 1: A Record of You and I

A diary from the mid 1700s kept by a man named Simon Snow, a farmhand for the Grimm estate. He records the death and the subsequent vampiric transformation of his close friend, and heir to the Grimm estate, Basilton Grimm.

Rating: M

Length: 4,321

Warnings: main character death/undeath. non-graphic (maybe slightly graphic) depictions of violence/blood, mentions of animal death, implied sex

Read on AO3 or below the cut

September 3rd 1742

I've never had a journal before but Basilton tells me it will help with my reading and writing. He's taught me all my letters and wants me to practice on my own now. He says he’ll continue reading to me if I like. He’ll keep helping me with handwriting too, but Basilton insists that having a personal record will do me good. Even so, I do not know what to record. Though I must not waste this lovely gift. Basilton says to write about my day, my thoughts. He must have more thoughts within him than I, for I am already out of things to say, and Basilton adds to his journal at all hours of the day.

September 6th 1742

Today I milked the cows and took them out in the field to graze. I ate fresh bread with a lot of butter. I did some other chores. It is late. I do not wish to write more.

September 7th 1742

Today I had porridge for breakfast, and some tasty stew Ebb made for supper. Charlie, the cattle dog, found a new favorite stick out in the pasture today, he hasn't stopped chewing it since this morning.

September 8th 1742

I hope Basil will forgive me for my short entries. It's not as if he’ll read what I put down here. Personal journals are to be personal, he tells me. So I’m just meant to speak to myself? I will keep at it, if only to gain more surety in my handwriting.

September 9th 1742

It is Sunday, I went to Mass. Basilton came to the cabin after the service. Brought me some scones Vera made. Sir Grimm does not approve of his son spending so much time with a farmhand, Basilton told me of another scolding he got earlier this week. I do not know why he spends time with me, against his father’s wishes, but I will not stop him. We ate lunch together. I enjoyed the food, and the company more. Basilton would call me a liar if he read that, my love of scones is rarely bested by anything, but Basilton is a good friend to me.

Everything feels so easy with Basil. He can make me laugh no matter what, even when he's poking fun at me. We talked for hours yesterday, and he listened when I spoke about my days, my observations of the cattle. Basil worries I work too hard, but I don't do much really, and I enjoy the labor. Besides, what else am I to do with my time? We discussed a poem Basil had read to me a few weeks ago. I am not usually one for poetry, but Basilton speaks about poems in a way that makes sense to me. I thought him unbearably arrogant when I first started working for his family, speaking of literature constantly and looking down his big nose at me. He still is arrogant at times, but now that we are friends I know he is also kind and caring and truly intelligent. He speaks of his sisters often, and how he worries he won’t meet his father’s expectations. He remains unmarried and this troubles Sir Grimm.

But Basilton has land to inherit and good social standing. He has many admirable qualities, and it goes without saying that he is handsome. He should have no trouble finding a wife. I said this to Basilton today but he became uncomfortable. Quickly, he brushed it off and picked up a new topic of conversation. This has happened before, I do not know if it’s the subject of marriage, or if he is too modest a man, but many times I have stated his good qualities, only for Basiton to blush and deny them, or leave the conversation.

September 20th 1742

I ate Turkey for supper yesterday. One of the bulls charged at me today because I looked at him wrong. Bastard. Gareth made me help him till the field today. Another bastard. He said he couldn’t get it done in time without help, despite the crops being his and his sons’ job, and the cattle being mine.

Went to the pub with Ebb, the goatherd yesterday. She told me a great joke about goats but I was drunk and can't remember it now. I might ask her to tell me it again.

September 22nd 1742

Today was an easy day, I fiddled with my carving knife while out in the field. Made a little wooden Charlie but when I showed it to him the blasted dog chewed it up. I tried to stop him but then I just laughed. I suppose I’m glad he found my carving nice enough to devour.

September 30th 1742

Basilton visited today. He brought me some of his books, said I could keep them, since I mentioned how much I liked the last one he read to me. I thanked him for the books, he is so kind to me. I do not know if I will ever read them though. Perhaps I should not have taken them. It’s not that I am ungrateful, I just didn’t know how to tell Basilton I mostly enjoy hearing his voice read to me, more than I care about the contents of the books. I am sad as this probably means he will not continue reading aloud to me.

October 1st 1742

I’ve not been writing as much as I feel I should. I fear my life is just not that interesting. Basilton tells me it’s plenty interesting. He’ll listen to my stories about cattle and Charlie without complaint. Gareth tells me my stories are boring though. “Who cares if a calf was born with a spot that looks just like a field mouse?” he said to me when I told that story at the pub last week. As if throwing seeds on the ground makes for great stories.

October 8th 1742

I found some poppies in the field, the first of the fall. I picked a couple of the red flowers. Gave them to Basil when he came round my cottage in the evening. He tried to resist them but I insisted. I told him it was repayment for the books he left with me. That wasn't all true, I just wanted to share the beauty of those little things with him. Basilton accepted the flowers then, I do hope he likes them. I cannot offer him much more, though I wish I had more to give to my friends.

October 10th 1742

I tried carving a flower out of wood but I cocked it up. I might try again with a thicker stick.

October 12th 1742

The cattle are well. The sun is shortening our days. I heard a bird song I did not recognize today, while out in the field. It was lovely. I must start saving up for a new winter coat, mine is threadbare and has not been keeping me warm enough as the world gets colder. Basilton tells me he’s going deer stalking with his cousins in a few days. He will be gone for at least a month. It will be their first hunt of the season.

October 15th 1742

Basilton left today. I tended to the cattle. I tried to brush off the sadness that seemed to hang over the day. Perhaps the cloudy days are affecting my mood, or the cold weather. I might just sleep early today.

October 30th 1742

He died. On that trip he

November 25th 1742

I went to Mass today. I sat alone. I tried to welcome the Holy Spirit but I feel so alone in this world. I grieve Basil every waking moment. I thought this would pass, it’s been nearly a month and still the wound is as fresh as the day I learned of his death. I’ve never had someone to lose before, like this. I loved him deeply, as if he were my own family I have come to realize. I find myself almost grateful that I did not know my parents, that I will not, one day, have to grieve them as well.

The Lord’s Day is the most painful, God forgive my soul for saying so. I cannot distract myself with work. I try to pray, but my mind wanders ever back to my lost friend. I grow tired of writing, but I will not put down this journal forever, Basilton wouldn't want me to.

November 27th 1742

I woke up this morning to something strange. I found one of the cows dead in the field. I hadn’t noticed any signs of sickness in the herd, but there were also no signs of an animal attack. There was no wound I could find, no blood. She looked strange, I cannot say why, though. It was as if something was missing, from beneath the skin. I told Sir Grimm, and the other farmhands, in case there is sickness in the herd. I’ll be keeping a closer watch on the cattle.

November 29th 1742

I visited Basilton’s grave this evening. It did me no good. I only felt the pain of loss much stronger standing there, reading his gravestone. It was as if there were a stake ran through my chest. I could hardly breathe through the sobs that came out of me. It was so strange, knowing Basilton was so close, only two meters or so below where I stood, and yet he was impossibly far.

It does me little good to dwell on these negative feelings.

November 30th 1742

I try to fill my days with actions. I inspect the cows twice, three times over, to check for any signs of decaying health. I pace the perimeter of the field while they graze. I help Gareth work the land when I should be resting. I chop enough firewood for this winter and the next two. I stay too long at the pub and drink more than I can afford. I imagine spots in my cabin that need cleaning, and I scrub and scrub and scrub until the pain in my hands is all that I can feel. And yet, I still ache for the companionship of Bailston. What am I to do with myself?

December 1st 1742

I cannot stop thinking of Basilton. Truly, I never stopped thinking of him, even when he was alive and with me. The Grimm family told us he was trampled by his own horse, fell off it while hunting. In quiet moments my mind creates imaginations of his last terrible moments. When I lay in bed, if I am not drunk as a lord, I cannot sleep for hours. I pray to God for a miracle, but my pleas are left unanswered. I know it to be foolish, but I cannot help myself. I would do anything for Basilton. Anything to see him again.

December 4th 1742

I do not want to write this, but I feel I must. I saw Basilton last night. I know, I know that he is dead, and God willing, he is at peace in heaven. But I came home from the pub late last night, crawled into bed, then, I saw Basil in my room, as if he were alive. He did not look ghostly, no, he looked as if he had new life coursing through him. His skin flush. His smile wide. There were no signs he had ever been dead.

I cried out, I could not help it. He came to me, to my bed. I sat up to meet him. And he held me. A hand pressed to my chest, the other wrapped around my back. His dark hair against my chin as he rested his face to my collar bone. We did not speak. I feared I would wake from the dream. And it must have been a dream.

I woke up this morning half expecting to see Basilton about the grounds, as if his death was a nightmare I could finally wake from. But he was not here, of course not. My mind has been so fixed on Basilton it only makes sense he would creep into my dreams.

December 5th 1742

It happened again, last night, I was not asleep this time. I was changing into my night clothes, when Basil appeared to me. I did not hear him come in. My candle cast his shadow against the wall. He must have been standing there as flesh and bone, not as a ghost or a vision. He wore regular clothes, not the burial shroud–made from his own family’s wool–that he was laid to rest in. He had on his purple vest with yellow embroidered flowers. It was one of his favorites, he told me years ago. Again he did not speak, but he touched my hand. He was so cool. a welcome feeling; I was so hot. I pulled him into an embrace. I whispered his name, I did not know what else I could do. I swear to God, he spoke my name in response.

Suddenly I felt so tired, so drained. Likely the day’s work catching up to me. I tried to fight the urge to sleep, but my eyes closed before I could watch Basilton leave, or say anything more to him.

December 6th 1742

Another cow, and one of the bulls have died, for the same mysterious reason as the first cow. The herd was restless yesterday, as if they could sense misfortune in the air, but I could not do anything to prevent their deaths. I do not even know what I need to be protecting them from.

I am worried, and unsettled.

December 8th 1742

The night before this last I stayed up, hoping to see my old friend again, though he never came. But last night I saw Basilton again. He spoke this time, only my name. My heart filled with joy to hear my friend’s deep voice call me Simon after I was sure we’d never be able to speak to each other again in this life. He sat beside me on the bed. I told him I had missed him. He placed a cool hand on my cheek, looked into my eyes. His were a familiar light grey, but he wore an expression I couldn't make sense of.

Then, he kissed me. I hesitate to write these words. He must be a sodomite. I have always heard such men are evil, but I could never think of Basilton that way. He's always been so lovely.

And the worst part is that I kissed him back. The best part is that I kissed him back. I have not kissed anyone before. He was so soft against my lips. So cool. His hand held my jaw, and his tongue pressed against my lips. An elation sprung up within me that I cannot describe. I held him tightly, wanting more than anything for this moment to last forever. I couldn’t help but think he should have done this sooner. We should have done this when Basil was still living.

Oh God! I weep remembering that he is dead.

Basilton kissed farther down my neck, across my collar bones, left kisses on my chest so hard they hurt. I did not stop him. He didn't go farther than my bosom, but-

I wanted him to. I felt as if under a spell, wrapped up in a world of pleasure balanced by the slightest pain. I wanted more, wanted all of him , but before I knew it I was awake, and alone, as the morning sun shown through my window.

I was slow in my work today. Gareth noticed, told me I should not be so lazy. My body betrays me, I feel so weak.

December 13th 1742

Basilton visits me nightly now. I welcome his touches, his hard kisses. I walk through my days now, dreaming of night.

The cows have begun to distrust me, they put up a fight when I try to milk them, and a few are no longer eating. I do not know why. Sir Grimm, despite having experience with livestock, seemed just as perplexed as I when I brought up the strange deaths and behaviors of his herd. Though, I know his mind is elsewhere, the mourning clothes he and Madam Grimm wear are a constant reminder of their loss.

I hear whispers at the pub of ghost sightings. I hear gossip from the house servants that the Grimm children wake up screaming in the nights now.

December 19th 1742

The weather gets worse. I feel frozen to the bone. My hands hurt daily. My work gets harder, as more animals under my care drop dead, and my strength seems to dwindle with each moment. The waking world has no joy, no pleasure left. But I go through each day, waiting for night. Only at night can I remember what happiness is. Basilton comes to me. He holds me, and we kiss for hours. Basil leaves marks and bruises on my skin but I welcome it. My hands praise the skin he uncovers for me. We commit sins I never knew could bring such pleasures.

December 20th 1742

I admit, I have not allowed myself to consider how or why Basilton appears to me alive, when I know he was laid in his grave two months ago. I just cannot think of it, I cannot search for reasons to distrust this gift I have. I may be a fool, or a doomed sodomite, but I cannot find it in me to fight what is happening. I cannot consider this to be anything but good or I might truly lose myself.

December 24th 1742

Last night was disturbing. Basilton came to my room as usual. We kissed, and lay together, and I felt so joyous, but quickly the tides turned. He pinned my naked body to the bed. He sat over me and tore at my flesh with his bare hands. I cried out but I could not stop him. Some dark part of me did not want to stop him. Basilton lapped up the blood that poured from my chest like a starved dog. The unGodly sight did things to me. As if possessed by something, I craved his bloodshed.

I do not know what is wrong with me.

I awoke with deep wounds on my chest. A mess of horror and lust arose within me as I touched the raised flesh, the dried blood. I know this is not natural, this is not holy. I should seek out a doctor, or a priest, but I can't stand the thought of losing my dear Basil again. I would open up a vein for him. I would tie our hearts together for eternity if it meant Basilton could be mine.

December 25th 1742

It is Christmas Day. A holiday that should be full of cheer. Basil once told me it was his favorite holiday, so it holds an extra special meaning for me. I wish he had been here, enjoying the day. I try not to be too sad, he will be here soon, arriving with the stars in the sky.

Ebb spent the day with me. I gave her a small wooden goat I carved. She does not say it but I know she misses her brother most around this time of year. I tried to be there for her, as I pretended not to notice the tears running down her red cheeks. But I found it hard to care. All my thoughts were consumed by anticipation for my next visit with Basilton. I know that is terrible. I tried to fight it, to focus on the friend I had with me at the moment, but I struggled. My mind, and my heart are trapped in a world with only Basilton and myself. A world no one else could understand.

December 26th 1742

Basilton attacked me again last night. My neck, chest, and stomach are covered in signs of his violent affection. Oh my dear God, I try to feel remorse, to summon disgust at our actions, but it is just not there within me. My mind is a haze of painful pleasure, my thoughts, along with my flesh and blood, fully consumed by Basilton. He is a fallen angel. He is a monster, and I must be one as well, but I have no will to change that.

I love him. I’ll love him no matter what we become.

I found more cattle dead this morning. Now nearly a third of the herd is gone. This time they have markings to match the wounds on my chest.

I told Ebb about the deaths, she told me a few goats have passed as well. I will tell the baronet tomorrow.

December 27th 1742

I went to tell Sir Grimm about the dead cows this morning.

In the manor I overheard the baronet and baronetess speaking of another attack last night. I stopped myself short of the doorway into Sir Grimm’s study. I stood in the hallway, slowing my breath to hear them through the door.

“Mordelia saw Basilton again last night. He hurt her, picked her up and left scratches on her back,” Daphne said to Malcolm. Sir Grimm stated he’s seen their son some nights as well. I became jealous upon hearing these words, at learning I was not the only one Basil is giving attention to. A foolish thought, of course he would want to see his family. But they spoke of him in fearful tones. They do not know my sweet Basil is only full of love.

“He is a vampire,” Sir Grimm said. I had to stop myself from crying out. Madam Grimm gasped, begged him no. Sir Grimm mumbled something comforting. “It must be done. He’s not our son anymore, Daphne, he is an evil creature.”

A vampire. The livestock dying, the frightened children, and my nightly visits from Basilton, all signs of a vampire. Dear God, Basil did not deserve such a fate!! I know what they will do to him: dig up his grave, stake his heart, cut off his head, and burn him to ashes.

He will be gone forever.

I cannot bear the thought!

I know now what I must do, and I must do it quickly.

Later on the 27th

Hastily, I have made my preparations. I could not risk Sir Grimm getting to Basilton first. I am prepared to go tonight.

December 28th 1742

I went to Basilton’s grave late last night. I was the only soul awake besides the owls. I brought along a lantern, a shovel, a small pack with all my coin and what few possessions I care to keep, and a small wheelbarrow I took from the barn. The light of my lantern guided me through the familiar trees and headstones, until I found the name Basilton Grimm carved into stone.

The rain poured down endlessly. The wet earth offered little resistance to my shovel, but digging was not quick work. The wind put out my lantern thrice. I gave up relighting, nothing would stop me. I had a singular purpose. I felt as if I’d been guided here, to this moment, to save my love.

After hours of labor, my shovel kissed the wood of a coffin, I nearly collapsed from relief, and exhaustion. Prying the lid from my Basil’s prison was harder than I had expected. Once I had it off, I threw it from the hole.

I wept. There was my dearest Basilton asleep in his coffin. I relit the lantern. I fell to my knees, sharing the cramped space with him. The light revealed a blood-stained mouth and burial shroud. His hair was a little longer, more lustrous than in life, his skin ruddy and plump. I worried I would find his face smashed, his body mangled from horses’ hooves, but he was unmarked and as beautiful as ever. His hands were free from his shroud, also bloody.

These are all signs of a vampire, but I could not care. I had to reach out to touch his cold flesh.

I had to kiss him.

My lips met his, and in that coffin, surrounded by earth, over the sound of the attacking rain, Basil softly moaned. I swear I heard it. I swear his lips moved against mine.

Elated with indescribable joy I tried to wake him more, desperate for proof he really was living. He did not open his eyes, or speak to me, or move. But when I pressed my ear to his chest I heard the drum of his heart beat steadily.

My sweet Basilton alive! Now that I have him, I will let no harm come to him. I will keep Basil safe from those who want to kill him again.

It is early morning now, the sun is just starting to peak over the land in the East. This will be my last entry. I shall leave my journal here, in my Basilton’s empty grave, in case anyone is searching for us. I care not who reads these words, they will not find us. I will be far away, with my love, finally happy.

(A note placed in the back of the journal)

Dearest Simon,

I hope this journal will be of use to you. I do believe keeping a journal will help you continue improving your literacy. And perhaps it will aid in other ways. I find it helps to have a private place for one's thoughts and feelings. My journals are a great comfort to me.

Beyond that, I must admit I do enjoy the thought that there will be a record of you and of I. That people may know who we were, and that we were good friends.

Yours truly,

Tyrannus Basilton Grimm

#carry on countdown 2023 #coc 2023 #carry on countdown #simon snow #baz pitch #vampire #blood #blood drinking #1700s au #simon snow pov #the simon snow series #carry on #the simon snow trilogy #fanfic #corascrap

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ladyandthewalrus · 2 years

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Social Class and Income Levels of IDV Characters

I’m back again with a long, intensive IDV post, this time regarding the quality of life most of Identity V’s characters would likely have led before coming to the manor. This list is not definitive and is based on a little guesswork in some areas, and also doesn’t include every single character, as I couldn’t find relevant information for every career, but I think provides an interesting look at character backgrounds, the sorts of resources they would have access to, and what life was like in the 1890s.

This post assumes that the vast majority of the characters live in the United Kingdom and that most of them were born there. As discussed in an earlier theory post, Oletus Manor is 100% in England and the DeRoss Couple and their daughter were English aristocrats. It also refers to fairly readily available information that can be found in various characters’ deduction systems, seasonal events, background and official videos, and birthday letters.

Lots- and I mean LOTS- of info below.

First, a few notes about the class system in the late Victorian United Kingdom:

- Class was highly stratified, and moving up the social ladder was extremely difficult.

- Class was not necessarily just tied to income. Upbringing, family background, etc were just as large a determinant, which is why you might have an impoverished aristocrat with tons of property but no income who would still be welcome in elite social circles, whereas an up-and coming business owner bringing in £3,000/year would be shunned. Class was who got invited over to dinner; class was whether or not you’d been educated, and if you had to work with your hands.

The Upper Class/Aristocracy/Nobility:

- The top of the class system under the royal family (boo). Men might hold political positions, but members of this class would not have careers, as such. These characters likely have a passive income from investments or land owned and generational wealth. hey own one or more homes and employ extensive live-in household staff, including maids, butlers, drivers, cooks, gardeners etc.They can travel widely and partake of various entertainments, having time to cultivate talents in the arts.

Mary: She is, or believes herself to be (??), Marie Antoinette, an Austrian princess and the Queen of France. Antoinette was infamous for her lavish lifestyle and voracious appetite for fashion.

Joseph: He is referred to as a Count, but French nobility does not actually use that exact title. It’s possible he is a Comte, which is the equivalent of an Earl/Count in England. Either way, this is a middle of the ranking noble title. In the 2021 Christmas Event, he mentions his family owning several manors, so the Desaulniers family has, or had, a considerable amount of property.

An interesting thing that makes me wonder if his family’s wealth is depleted is that he consistently dresses in extremely outdated clothing, but I believe that speaks more to his sentimental obsession with the past than anything else.

Chloe/Vera: The real Vera had the capital to open a store front to sell Chloe’s perfumes. There is no mention of either daughter working prior to this, and the family employs several maids. Presumably, Chloe’s perfumes were a good money maker, as the 1890s marked the “Golden Era” of perfume production and sales. It is unusual, but not impossible, that an upper-class woman would own a business.

Melly: A successful social climber who began as a maid before marrying her employer, who owned a manor. She is well educated, to the extent she has been invited to lecture at a college or university.

Edgar: Edgar does not paint to generate income. His family was able to afford a long-term art tutor for him, and he is not interested in the prize money offered by the manor because his family’s wealth is more than sufficient. He is squarely in the aristocrat category, and enjoyed a lifestyle most of the other characters could only have dreamed of, at least in a fiscal sense.

Galatea: Another individual who pursued art as a passion or hobby rather than actual trade.This would simply not be realistic for anyone outside the upper classes.

Memory/Alice DeRoss: Her father possessed the title of Baron. Her mother is depicted in TOR with an upper-class English accent. Her parents own Oletus manor, which they were able to purchase, and employ two known servants (Burke and Bane). Running such a large estate would require an army of maids, cooks, gardeners, etc, who are not directly mentioned but implied.

Keigan: In her background video, we see her family in very formal dress at a large, lavishly set dinner table. Her brother holds the position of judge at a major court, which brought with it a great deal of respect and import. The average clerk made very little money, but it’s implied she is acting as his unofficial assistant/helper due to sisterly obligation, and does not want for money.

Jack: a bit of conjecture, but Jack at least played at being an artist, and takes on the role of a gentleman. It does not appear he needed to work to support himself.

Annie: Her father is a painter of some note, and her mother was a noted society beauty who left her a considerable inheritance that her father and fiancé conspired to get their hands on.

Luca: A fallen aristocrat with a mother of noble birth. His interests include piano, books, and experiments, all of which point to a privileged upbringing. Only someone with resources could run experiments and futz about with specialized equipment, which is why so many scientists from past eras came from upper class or even noble backgrounds. His father, Herman, blew through their fortune, and after Luca’s incident with Alva, he would not be a socially accepted individual.

The “Educated” Middle Class:

-Individuals or households with an income up to around £1000/ year. The wives do not have to work, but see to the home (oversee staff) and partake in social obligations, plan parties, and help educate the children in the arts. Daughters may become teachers or governesses if they don’t marry or prior to marriage, or in wealthier families, not work at all. They own their home and have live-in staff, such a cook and maids. ( see model yearly budget for a man making £700/year here.) Vacations, domestic and abroad, and high-end entertainments are accessible. They have some time for hobbies, and probably play a musical instrument if also from a culturally upper-middle class family, such as a piano, violin, harpsichord, etc. Guitars, flutes etc would not be counted here, as they are more “common” instruments. These individuals might move in some of the same social circles as the aristocracy.

Emily: A well established Doctor working in a city hospital could expect to make up to £1000/ year, putting them at the upper end of the middle class. However, an independent Doctor would make much less, and in rural areas, would often be paid in food or services. Given Emily’s difficulties keeping her clinic open, she lingers in the border between being a member of the middle class “culturally”— we know she came from a middle class family and is educated— but she struggles with money and lacks for stability like some of the folks in the lower middle and many in the working classes. Despite a low income, her education would mean she’d be welcome in polite society.

Freddy: A top-payed Lawyer could make £1,200/ year, but Freddy is a bit of a failure. His actual financial status cannot be determined, but he is, like Emily, culturally middle class due to his education and white-collar job.

Aesop: Aesop Carl? relatively loaded, actually. The Victorian era was great for the funeral industry. The elaborate rituals surrounding mourning meant that those in adjacent careers were always busy, and it was fashionable to send off a loved one in great style. The lower classes imitated the lavish funerals of the wealthy, often bankrupting themselves in the process, because it was considered shameful to be unable to lay someone to rest properly, and reputation and respectability were of vital importance in the Victorian United Kingdom.

As with today, there was an outcry about the funerary industry driving up prices and taking advantage of grieving people to line their pockets even more.A nice funeral, modest but respectable, cost about £11, and embalming services were an additional £10. A funeral with all the bells and whistles would fall at £21. A skilled Embalmer is capable of tending to several corpses in a day. Even if Aesop and Jerry only handled 50 corpses a year, they’d be making £500. A modern mortician handles about 150 bodies a year, so that’s a cool £1500/year for them. This would mean a nice house with a garden, a maid, and a cook at the very least, presuming Jerry risked having staff around that could possibly catch him on his bullshit. (Though I guess he could just kill them too and replace them with someone who didn’t know better. Fucking Jerry). At least even if he was emotionally starved and groomed into becoming a murderer, he was still eating well, could have nice clothes, and take vacations?

Another downside though is that then as is often true now, people did not want to socialize with someone who worked closely with dead bodies, and funeral industry workers were often ostracized, making his position here a little tenuous.

His mother’s family appears to have been upper or middle class, as suggested by Aesop’s dance emote, in which he performs a pirouette. Ballet was an upper-class entertainment, and formal dance training would not be accessible to children of poorer families, and I doubt Jerry was enrolling him in a lot of extracurriculars, meaning he must have learned while still in his mother’s care.

Jose: A First Officer could make around £900/ year. His family was employed by the Queen, and once had a stellar reputation. Although sailors worked with their hands, a high-ranked officer on a ship was seen as fairly respectable.

Orpheus: Some conjecture here. Orpheus is, like Melly, someone who successfully moved up the social ladder, first being adopted by the aristocratic DeRoss couple and then making a name for himself as a novelist. His Survivor version is well-dressed in neat white clothes that would require maintenance and be antithetical to manual work that would dirty them.

Luchino: As a professor, he is educated and respectable, even if his methods are unconventional and his manner of dress hardly appropriate for the classroom.

Alva: He was a student together with Luca’s father, Herman, at an institute of higher education, meaning he is most likely from a family who could afford the expense of educating him.

EDIT: @ivy0309 pointed out that in the Mandarin version of Alva’s first deduction, the language states he comes from an impoverished place, meaning he was probably granted a scholarship and is another case of a successful social climber.

Ann: Ann’s deductions mention she wore exquisite and ornate mourning clothes after the deaths of her parents, suggesting her family had the money for funerals with pomp. She is also left land and at least two houses after her father’s passing.

Manually Laboring Middle Class:

Income wise these careers are middle class, being able to net £1000/year, but there was a difference between enjoying a good quality of life and being socially accepted. Iif you worked with your hands, no matter how skilled you were, you were still a laborer and seen as lacking in culture.

Tracy: A clockmaker made up to £400/year, which jumped to £840/ year if they also worked on watches as well. Her father, Mark, would have netted them enough money to fall into the working middle class, and this is before Tracy’s mechanical genius became evident. If Tracy’s life had gone differently, it is possible she could have become what was known as a Master Mechanic, a skilled worker who could earn £1000/ year, guaranteeing a high standard of living.

Demi: As a Barmaid alone, Demi would make about £150/ year, which would be difficult to survive on; however, she and her brother own their establishment. Their bar could make about £1000/ year, giving them a comfortable life in terms of amenities, but Barmaids were not respected and often suspected of being easy; many young women in major cities who worked in shops and restaurants took up sex work to supplement their meager incomes.

Leo: At one point appears to have owned two factories, both his initial textile factory and the doomed arms factory.

More or Less Stable Working Class

Emma: A gardener would make, at a maximum, £400/ year, and a young gardener like Emma would certainly not be able to earn that much. In her previous life as Lisa Beck before Leo made a bad investment, she was likely very comfortable, as Leo did own a presumably successful textile factory. She may be especially nostalgic for her childhood with her father because her situation changed drastically very rapidly, going from living in a pleasant environment with two parents, plenty of toys, good food and clothes/household with a steady income, to being placed in a Victorian orphanage and eventually becoming a manual laborer.

Helena: She wishes to attend college, but cannot afford to do so. We aren't exactly sure what her father does for work, but he is likely in the working class, as many middle class families could reasonably afford to educate at least one of their children, and Helena is, to our knowledge, an only child. They seem to have enough money to provide her with certain accommodations, like spectacles and her cane, though these may have been gifts from Sullivan.

Kevin: the lifestyle itself would be rough, but he could make around $480/year (sorry for the currency change, but he lived and worked in the USA, and England did not have cowboys).

Bane: A game keeper often had a relatively low income and would by that definition actually fall into the below category, but housing was almost always provided to men who held this job, taking a stressor off his plate. Steady employment/staying at a position for several years was also common, providing general stability.

Working Class and Extremely Poor:

-Families or households often struggling to scrape by on under or around £300/ year, sometimes with individuals making as little as £25/ year. A frugal family at the top end of this budget would overlap with lower middle class and would be able to employ a maid, putting appearances first and sacrificing other luxuries. There is less money for entertainment, and almost all of the income goes to food and housing. Little or no savings. The vast majority of the population falls in this category because things never change, with only 7.7% of workers making £340 or above, and 42.9% £192 or under.

Norton: Coal miners earned around £260/ year. Norton was looking for gold and gems, but it’s safe to assume his standard of living would have been about the same as a coal minder. Compared to some jobs, this wage may have seemed decent, but mining was brutal and incredibly dangerous. Miners typically lived in housing camps operated by mine owners, and had to buy their daily essentials from in-camp stores and commissaries.

Victor: I had to conjecture a little here, but senior postal service employees were making around £200-300/ year, and newer employees a starting annual wage of £90 so we can guess Victor falls around here as well. We also do not know about his family’s class background.

Andrew: Andrew probably wishes he really was a Train Conductor. In that job, he could have made £900/ year, granting him membership the middle class. Being a Grave Keeper or Grave Digger was an awful job, physically demanding and badly compensated. Cemeteries often stank of rotting bodies, and Grave Diggers had a low social standing because they worked so closely with corpses. I could not find concrete information about how much he would have made, but it would definitely fall below the £300/year mark that is the ceiling for entry into the lower middle class, given that the other Survivors with physical/ unskilled labor jobs seem to peak at the £200ish range.

Worth noting though not necessarily tied to class is the common misconception that Andrew is illiterate, which he certainly isn’t. His dedications include a diary entry he wrote in which he tries to justify to himself his bodysnatching activities, and he also received letters from Percy’s assistant. He might have a little trouble with small print due to his bad eyesight, but he can absolutely read and write. Most people, even the poorer classes, were at least somewhat literate in this period in the United Kingdom.

Outsiders/I Have No Idea

-These are characters with either extremely vague and mysterious pasts or who have extremely unconventional professions.

Patricia: A Voodoo practitioner, it is unclear if she performs the work of a Voodoo priestess, which could be lucrative. Marie Laveau, on whom she is allegedly loosely based, was very financial successful, but to be honest, I think the IDV writers have a very shaky grasp on actual Voodoo practices and beliefs (as do most folks probably who have no idea that a lot of practitioners are also Catholic. It's a syncretic religion so yes, Patricia’s nun costume actually makes some sense.)

Fiona: It is openly stated she comes from an unknown class. There aren’t really historical precedents I could find in my research for occultists of her stripe earning an income, as there’s no indication she goes around giving exhibitions or overseeing seaances. Many Victorians dabbled in the arcane as a hobby, but those who were able to fully devote themselves to their studies tended to come from very comfortable backgrounds, such as Helena Blavatsky and Aleister Crowley.

Kreacher: He is a thief. Nothing else to say.

Eli: Another character with an ambiguous background. We have little information about his family life, but he is considered in his write-up by the organizers of the manor games to be unemployed.

EDIT: @ivy0309 informed me Eli is listed as coming from a middle class background in the official setting book.

Ganji: He is likely extremely poor. I could not find anywhere what a professional athlete might have been paid, but we do at least know he cannot afford travel home to India.

William: He is presumably from a middle class family, given that he attended university. As with Andrew above, I have a seen of lot people claiming William is less intelligent/educated than he is, when he’s actually at least one of the most educated characters in the game. He may have made a poor decision drinking the poisoned wine and come off as a muscle head, but he is far from a himbo. I don’t know what his current social class could be considered, as professional athletes in the Victorian era were not the same was they are now, but William does appear based on his clothes to be a rugby player more or less full time?

Performers/Entertainers

-This is another tricky group to get a handle on, because the role of the entertainer in society meant that one could be exalted and idolized while also not being welcome in polite society. I cannot speak to actual income amounts for these characters, but can provide a few general notes of interest. Also worth noting is that a top-billed musician like Antonio would be treated very differently than the Hullabaloo performers, who were certainly seen as impolite and indecent.

Margaretha/Natalie: Female performers were often characterized as promiscuous and sexually available, and therefore sneered at. Margie is wearing the costume of an exotic dancer (for those who may not be aware, this doesn't meant actually foreign or exotic, it explicitly means a dance intended to arouse or excite). She is not doing well fiscally after Sergei’s death, and is implied by the description of her animal tamer costume to dance/busk for tips.

Her uncle and aunt who raised her lived in Lakeside, and Natalie is described as wearing a cheap cotton dress in a photograph of her living under their care. Her background then would likely fall under manually laboring/working class.

Mike: Mike is one of the circus’ most popular performers, so he makes more than Margaretha, but that's all I can guess.

Joker: He is less popular than Mike and Sergei, but is allowed his own tent because either he has enough status in the Hullabaloo or nobody wants to room with him.

Violetta: Her family abandoned her, and she was seen as an asset by Max. Likely has little to no money of her own.

Servais: He at least considers himself middle class and respectable, and his dress does suggest he is financially solvent.

Antonio: A musician welcomed at court who played for upper-class audiences. Antonio was raised to be a money-maker by a stern father and did receive royal patronage, but based on his personality traits I am willing to bet he has poor money management skills. His real-life inspiration, Niccolo Paganini, died in debt.

Murro: Treated as a possession by Bernard and then living on the run, it's hard to imagine he had any way of earning money after fleeing the circus, nor the necessary knowledge to exist within society.

Willis Brothers: I believe their situation would be similar to Violetta’s. Disabled sideshow performers could occasionally have quite lucrative careers, but this was rare.

This is far from comprehensive, but thank you so much for taking the time to read this far! If you have any questions or wish to discuss anything here, please feel free to talk to me!

A great resource for approximating the income ranges used above is this database, this is invaluable for looking at things like average wages, housing costs, price of goods in different countries (mostly the US, UK, and Western Europe) across decades and eras.

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starfxkr · 2 months

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the thing abt old spice is it doesnt smell like old man it just smells good sauvage will be an “old man” cologne when we’re older and every guy ive had a crush on (thats my age) smelled like old spice deodorant and weed what does that say about me well lets not discuss bc every girl i liked smelled like vera wang princess

#✨.txt

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stilespeters · 1 year

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SALVATION (series)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6)

pairing: colin zabel x reader

words: 1649

a/n: soo i decided to make this part shorter, the next one will be longer. Im sorry for not posting in a long time, idk if people still read salvation, but i do plan on posting more regularly:)

summary: you and colin make a plan to solve the case and head to the opening of the Hotel Cortez

warnings: swearing, a bit of info dump

part 4: salvation

The next day, you and Colin met up at a diner, and discussed the plan for Saturday when you would go to the Cortez. You had to know what the two of you were searching for. If you were there and you didn't know what to do, it would be pointless. All you knew was that the Cortez had something to do with the murders.

While you had ordered food, Colin explained to you why he suspected the Hotel Cortez was linked to the recent killings.

“I went through the files, and something caught my eye. The first two couples that were murdered two weeks ago had an invitation to the opening of the Hotel Cortez. It was found by forensics examiners in the living room. The examiners didn't find anything in Marie and Bernard’s living room. However, this afternoon I went back to the crime scene and looked more thoroughly in the upstairs bedroom, and know what I found?”

Your eyes widened. “An invitation to the opening of the Hotel Cortez.”

“Exactly,” Colin continued. “I found it in the drawer in the nightstand. Which means that all three of the couples that have been murdered, had an invitation. I don't think it’s a coincidence.” You took a bite of your food. So James March gave invitations to people who were now brutally murdered. It was indeed suspicious.

“What we know is that the killer isn't done killing, so we need to prevent him from doing so. I believe that the next victim also has an invite to the opening,"

"but how do we know who is the next target?”

Colin rubbed his temples and drank from his coke. “I don’t know yet.”

“This sick fuck is twisted beyond insanity,” you began and you grimaced. “What is the motive? Why suddenly after 5 years, is someone finishing what Kai started? I just don’t understand, something is just off about all of this, why would someone copy Kai? Why would James send invitations to future victims? How is everything connected?" you questioned while saying your thoughts aloud.

“A message.”

“What?”

“Maybe he is trying to send a message. 7 years ago, Kai killed 11 people, and he all did it with one goal: spread fear. One thing why it’s called the ‘fear is truth’ killings, is because each letter of the victims first name made the sentence ‘fear is truth.” you found it hard to follow his words but you tried your best.

“The first victim in 2016 was named Frances, the second one was Erin, the third one was Allison, then came Rory, then Isa, Sarah, Troy, Randy, Ursula, Thomas and Harrison. If you put all of the first letters of their names together in the order of the killings, you get ‘Fear Is Truth’. That's why it was so popular in the true crime media, and why it was called the 'FIT' murders."

You leaned forward in intrigue, and pressed your fingers to your temples.

“So what message is the killer trying to send?” you questioned and you sighed. “It could be that the copycat is also trying to spell a word with his victim's names.” You grabbed a napkin and grabbed the pen. You didn't remember who were the latest victims, but Colin immediately knew what you were trying to do, and he grabbed the files.

“The first victims are Janet and Max. The second victims were Chris and Clara, and the third and most recent victims are Bernard and Marie.”

“Which spells…” you underlined the first letters of their names. “It spells JMCCBM.”

You closed your eyes in disappointment and frustration. You really thought that this was something. Colin however, didn't give up yet. “Wait,” he started and he wrote everyone’s full name on the napkin.

“Janet Stacy, Max Allister, Chris Lee, Clara Vera, Bernard Allen and Marie Tobias.”

He scribbled something and you tried to read what he was writing upside down. “Their last names. Stacy, Allister, Lee, Vera, Allen, Tobias. It spells…” he began and he squinted his eyes. “Salvat?”

“What is Salvat?”

“I don’t know, it looks like the beginning of a word. You think it’s a coincidence?”

“Nothing about this case is a coincidence. This has to be it.” you closed your eyes. You were getting a headache, but you wanted to help Colin and so you thought long and hard. You were getting closer and closer to cracking the code, you just had to have an extra push into the right direction.

Something suddenly clicked in Colin's brain and he snapped his fingers as if trying to make him remember something. “What were the words Kai spoke in court to you?”

You looked up at him and your jaw dropped. You heard Kai’s voice in the back of your head like he was screaming it in your ear. "Fear is the only salvation mankind will ever know.”

“That’s it,” Colin began and the two of you clicked everything together as you spoke in unison. “Salvation.”

“You really think that’s our lead?” you asked and Colin nodded. “Like you said, it can't be a coincidence, nothing about these cases are coincidences. It’s like the killer is killing for fun, but is also trying to send a message. The killer is trying to spread fear again, and he's succeeding.”

A woman walked towards your table and placed two plates of food in front of you. You had ordered fish and chips and you gave the woman a quick smile. Colin continued “It has to be this, I’m sure of it. The killer is trying to finish the word Salvation just like Kai finished the words ‘fear is truth’. He is spelling the words with the letters of the victim's last names. The killer only needs three more letters. I, O and N.”

“So that means that whoever is the next victim has an invitation to the Hotel Cortez, and has a last name that starts with ‘I’.” Everything began to fall in place “Why are the only victims invited to the Hotel Cortez? What makes the Hotel Cortez special? And how do we find out who has an invitation?”

Colin rubbed his temples while thinking hard but before he could have any more time to think, you suddenly chirped up. “Wait, there has to be a guest list, if we see who is invited, we can figure out whose last name starts with an I.”

Colin opened his eyes. “So our goal tomorrow is to get the guest list and prevent the killer from striking again.”

“We have to catch the person who is doing this before he can finish the word ‘Salvation’.”

You and him both smiled as you looked at each other, and it was so satisfying to piece the puzzle together. You had never been interested in these types of things before. The world was cruel enough, but knowing that you might be able to help solve this thing, gave you a satisfying feeling.

Colin held up his hand for a high five.

“You and I, we make a pretty good team.”

The next day broke and you were as nervous as ever. The whole day, you had tried to occupy your thoughts with something other than the Hotel Cortez. You had taken the pills Vincent prescribed and to your relief, Kai hadn't shown up anywhere.

You walked down the stairs as the clock struck 7:45. Colin should be here soon to pick you up.

“You look pretty,” Zoe said as you walked into the kitchen and you twirled for her and smiled. “Thank you.”

You wore a wine red dress with spaghetti straps, and it clung to your body in every curve. There was a slit on your right side leading up to your thigh, and the smooth skin of your leg was exposed. Around your neck was a silver necklace that your mother gave you when you were 14, and you had hoop earrings that matched the silver color. You never dressed up like this, but knowing you'd be surrounded by elites, you wanted to dress the part.

Violet walked into the room and she whistled. “Dang, Y/n, you got a date or something?”

You kissed the back of your teeth to that question, and eventually nodded. “I am, actually.”

Zoe smiled. “Shut up?! Who is it?”

Before you could answer, the bell rang and all three of your heads snapped to the door. You fixed your hair one more time and walked to the hall. Zoe and Violet then looked at you as you walked to the door and opened it.

Colin Zabel had his hands in his pockets and looked down, until the door opened and he looked at you. His breath got caught up in his throat and his jaw fell open the slightest. “Holy shit.”

“Hello Detective,” you mused as you looked him up and down. He had a black suit with a black tie, and he looked elegant and stylish, yet he still looked like himself. You had always fancied men who looked great in a suit, but Colin was on a whole other level.

Zoe and Violet eyed him and then they gave you a knowing look. In just a short glance, you could translate their looks. They approved.

“Let me grab my purse and we can go.” You said and you walked to the living room. Zoe followed you and as you were in the living room, she tapped your shoulder. “He is the man from the tv?!” she whisper-shouted and you chuckled. “The detective? You never mentioned that he was your date?” she then looked puzzled “You’re going to the Hotel Cortez with him?”

“I wasn’t planning on going initially… wait- how do you know about the Cortez…” you began but you figured that she saw the invitation on the kitchen counter. “Never mind.”

You turned around and headed for the hall again. “I’m going, I’ll be back later. Don’t open the door for strangers.”

“I won’t. Have fun with your date!”

You reached the hall again and Violet had her arms crossed as she was talking to Colin. He had an unreadable expression on his face and you narrowed your eyes at Violet.

When he saw you, he looked somewhat relieved and he reached his hand out for you. You grabbed it as you walked out of the front door. You stopped for a second to look back ar Violet.

“Violet do me a favor, please don't smoke. or sneak out”

“I won’t.” she promised. You gave her a nod and you began to walk to Colin's car with him at your side.

Violet stood in the doorway and looked one more time at Colin and a smug look appeared on her face. You couldn't even walk 3 meters before she spoke up.

“Hey Y/n,” Violet asked. “Yeah?”

“Do me a favor.” you hummed to her words “Don’t get pregnant.”

She had a smug look on her face and you pressed your lips together in a thin line and rolled your eyes at her. She used your own line against you. Colin raised his eyebrows while looking amused, yet slightly scared. “Don't get what now?”

“Nothing, let's go” you linked your arm with his and together you wakked further without glancing back at your sister "We got a mission to accomplish."

#evan peters #evan peters smut #evan peters x reader #evan peters x you #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson smut #kai anderson x y/n #kai anderson x you #evan peters x y/n #colin zabel x reader #colin zabel x you #colin zabel smut #colin zabel x female reader #colin zabel #james patrick march #james patrick march smut

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oodlyenough · 29 days

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alright I'm finally playing turnabout succession and despite how many big reveals i'd already been spoiled for the case is still surprising me in parts and clearly going to be quite long so i thought i'd put some thoughts together now

I'm not-quite-finished the MASON system chapter so no spoilers plz

some general notes:

I knew Vera Misham existed but not really anything about her or her father so that whole first trial was fun

I can't believe the glass hand statue I've seen in fanart a million times is the world's least ergonomic nail polish bottle ?!?!? lmfaoo ... nothing like the feeling of sharp crystal fingertips digging into your palms while you apply a... clear topcoat ... okay

Ema popping up in court with a Kristoph impression just to fuck with Klavier is the funniest thing in the world I love her so much. #1 hater

extremely generous of the judicial system to let disbarred lawyer phoenix wright design and run the new thing lmfaoooo

god willing they'll give me a chance to say 'i've spent the last seven years building up an immunity to atroquinine'

troupe gramarye is fucked up man LMAO i mean i kind-of guessed but i didn't anticipate the levels of it and i think we've only scratched the surface so far

i knew the names 'zak gramarye' and 'shadi enigmar' from fandom and never in a million years would i have guessed which was the magician stage name and which was his birth certificate name

i'm not sure what i'm meant to be thinking of zak so far. they alternate a bit between him seeming to be at least something of a concerned father, popping back up to will stuff to trucy and wearing her locket etc ...and him being physically violent, abandoning her in the first place and scheming to ruin phoenix's life a second time for no reason. I was pretty sure the victim from 4-1 was trucy's dad, and at the time I wondered if his plan was to undermine Phoenix in order to take custody of Trucy again, but so far it seems like he was just ... being a dick? lmao. I dunno; case isn't over so presumably more of that will come to light

still a big fan of valant, he cracks me up idc if he shot that old man. the game is telling me there was friction bc he was in love with thalassa but it's too little too late when i've already decided he has a weird gay thing with zak and also canonically he is capable of impeccable thalassa drag, so

drew misham being like "i left my reclusive 12 year old alone with a strange adult to discuss crime. it's ok though bc she felt an immediate affinity for a man she describes as the devil and agrees to keep secrets for" sir what the fuck do you mean !!!!! rest in pieces honestly

actually when we hit the bit about 'well vera doesn't like many people but she liked him', i was like "she liked KRISTOPH???" and @nowwheresmynut was like "maybe it was one of the gramaryes since she's a stan" and i was like "oh that makes sense". but it doesn't. it was kristoph. Lmfao. child whisperer

the MASON system is so ??? lmao... why does my inventory carry over from past to present lmaooo. phoenix invented time travel (real) (not clickbait)

I was going to write a whole thing about the disbarment trial and the investigation portion but this post is already enormous so it might be its own thing. I have deeper thoughts about that stuff from like a... broader game/storytelling pov. I will say I knew there was a flashback trial but I did NOT know you got so many investigation portions as Phoenix what a nice surprise 😭😭😭 I miss him

#ace attorney #aa4 spoilers #oodly plays AA #turnabout succession

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evita-shelby · 3 months

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Tie your heart to mine

Chapter 19

Cw: suggestion of an illegal abortion(as an option)

Douglas hadn’t been expecting Thomas Shelby to call and order him to meet him at Diane’s Office.

The man sat on the desk Diane looked too young behind in and held as much authority as he did when he was the feared Sergeant Major of the 179th Company. It was his distinguished service in the tunnels that made the Crown turn a blind eye to his crimes, an open secret most knew.

“I would’ve asked to meet at a more relaxed setting, but I can’t risk getting caught with this.” The gangster turned politician offered him a medical file, one with all the signs of its legitimacy.

“Why?” Douglas asks wondering why this man who cannot stand his namesake would do this kindness.

“Because.” The same answer they always got during the war. This time it meant something different.

Because I’m a father too.

“If anyone asks, I called you here to discuss a job in the transportation department in my company. The file was retrieved from the physician that saw to your son and was misplaced by his nurse.” Shelby rubbed the cigarette on his lower lip before lighting it.

Douglas Bennett hasn’t run like this since Lois was born. He is out of breath and ready to collapse and by divine luck, finds Tom packing in his bedroom.

“Unpack, boy, you aren’t going anywhere!” Douglas tossed the file on the bed for him to see.

“How did you get this?” Tom does not open the file detailing some nonexistant thing that rendered him unfit to serve.

“Doesn’t matter, all that matters is that you won’t be coming back dead to me.” The older man is so relieved that he can’t help but grab his son’s head and kiss the mop of blond hair so like Vera’s. “You aren’t dying, Tom, you’re staying here away from the war.”

“Dad. I’m going, not gonna die there anyways.” They had never agreed on much, and yet this is the last thing he thought they would disagree on.

Tom has always placed himself first, his life, his fun. Tom’s selfishness always won and yet here he was refusing this last ticket to freedom thinking himself fucking immortal.

“That’s what everyone fucking says about it until your best friend dies in your bloody arms! Ships sink, they get attacked and you just can’t bullshit your way out of the prison camp or fucking death, Tom!” it always comes to him trying to shout sense into his bloody fucking head.

Stubborn as he was before the war. Douglas saw the boy who died in France so much he couldn’t live with him half the time.

“Diane’s seen it. I trust her visions, and if she says I’ll live long enough to marry her and give you grandchildren, then I know I’ll be fine wherever they send me.” Tom confessed his reasoning and resumed his packing.

“You’ve never believed in that bullshit and now you’re trusting someone’s who you’ve only known for less than six months?!” his father cannot wrap his head around how his son who doesn’t even believe in God believes a girl who claims to see the future.

“I believe her, and I’m going to marry her when the war fucking ends whether you like it or not.” He stands his ground, because of all the lessons he’s tried to teach him, that is what sticks in his thick head of his.

“Suit yourself then, boy.”

Those are the last words Douglas Bennett will speak to Tom until he returns from the Battle of River Plate.

“You’ll write to me, won’t you?” Diane’s voice is quiet and soft as they say goodbye at the station like all families and lovers are doing.

He has had the ring in his pocket since that morning and yet no moment feels right. Tom has never been one for thinking things through and living in the moment and yet this has him hesitating and doubting himself.

Perhaps it was because things had gone to shit with his old man again after he refused to present the phony certificate claiming he’s got some fucking heart condition, and his blind trust in Diane’s visions of his future.

He’d said goodbye to Lois who was getting on her own train as well and now he was here holding onto Diane who refuses to let go as if he was being sent out to die already instead of basic training.

“Yeah, gonna bore you to death with my letters so much you’ll know you’re worrying for nothing, Di.” He answered cradling her face in his hands and reminding himself it’s just basic training.

The blond is aware he could die in training too, but the vision Di had of them having a life after the war gives him the confidence to think himself immortal. That nothing will hurt him and that he won't come back as a shell of a man like his old man did.

Diane’s never been wrong.

“I love you.” She said holding back tears and the ring feels heavy in his pocket.

But he doesn’t reach for it, Tom knows she’d say yes, but it just doesn’t feel right.

“Steal away to Cornwall, and I’ll find a way to see you off-base, Di,” Tom leaned down to kiss her goodbye and added after, quietly as if it weren’t obvious, “I love you too.”

Lois knows she’s dome for when there is a second month she doesn’t bleed. There is no question about what led to this, and she hates there is no chance it wasn’t Charlie’s.

It would be easier if it had been him, no matter what decision she took he’d support her and do the right thing if need be.

“Did you ever think about what would happen if you and Tom weren’t playing it safe?” Lois rolls onto her side and sees Diane take her brother’s bed as if it always belonged to her.

She’d moved in here with them at dad’s suggestion. Not all the boarders were as nice as Mrs. Johnson, some distrusted her because of her Romani blood made worse by Tom’s presence almost every night in her bed.

So Lois’ dad asked her to stay one night and suddenly a month and a half later, Diane was living with them even if she still paid her rent to Mrs. Johnson.

“We’ve talked about it, well, more like joked. We agreed we’d get married and name the first girl Vera Eve after your mum and mine.” She spoke so sure of it, as if Tom’s ever been serious about anything longer than an hour.

“He’s serious when he wants to, or has some external force pushing him to be. The baby is Harry’s, a girl, by the way.”

The witch looked at her having heard her thoughts, how Tom dealt with this on a daily basis was beyond Lois’ understanding.

“I suppose Vera it is.” The Mancunian girl had really hoped it wouldn’t come to this.

One fucking time.

Single mother to Harry’s bastard baby daughter, just her fucking luck.

“You don’t have to, you know, there’s people you can go to. My mum knows someone in Birmingham who can do that.” Her mismatched eyes tell her she’s not kidding, that she really is suggesting an abortion.

Lois hadn’t considered she may have a way out.

She’d heard of it, as something wrong and dangerous and illegal, heard of women who pay to get rid of unwanted babies and go on living normal lives as if it never happened.

It was a tempting offer, something she wasn’t refusing right away because she isn’t even sure what she’s going to do with a baby.

“Don’t tell my dad or Tom, please. You know how they are.” The blue eyed girl pleaded and the witch nodded in understanding.

The distance between Manchester and Torpoint is enough that Diane only comes down twice a month and in her vardo hitched to horses and as a guest of a nearby farmer lending his land to some romani family Diane only met on her way here.

Tom knew Norman had his back and would cover him as he has always done, especially now that they’d be shipping out to the Falklands. There they’d go on to serve on the HMS Exeter in the warm and sunny part of the world. He’s a fleet arm air gunner, third class, just as she had said before the war became true as well.

If that came true then the rest will too, he reminds himself. He won’t die. He’ll be the same Tom who returns home. He’ll not become like his dad nor hers.

“Dad’s worrying for nothing, no reason for the gerries to be there. Just a bunch of trade ships.” The blond says tracing patterns on Diane’s bare back.

They don’t always fuck, some nights he just holds her pretending its still spring in Manchester. Does that now that his training is ending, and his first posting came.

Tonight he’d taken his time, committed each freckle and sound she made to memory. She’d follow him anywhere, but the Falklands isn’t somewhere she can go with ease.

“Argentina is a great admirer of the Germans, might be the only one who likes them in Latin America.” She knew about things like these because of her parents, figures she’d do her homework about his assignment before he even knows himself.

“Well, now they’ll admire the way I look in my uniform.” He joked hoping to put her at ease.

If she knew how it ends, why was she so worried?

“I’m gonna marry you. After the war, so I know I won’t die before that.” Tom had hoped for a better way to do this, and yet no place was as special to them as this canary yellow vardo.

She smiled and leaned up to kiss him again. “Is that why you’ve been carrying your mum’s ring in your pocket every time I come here?”

“Yeah, been wanting to since I left.” He answered leaning over to grab the coat from the bench next to the bed and finally popping the only question that’s ever made him truly nervous.

She’ll say yes, he knows she will.

#diane shelby #tom bennett world on fire #tom bennett x oc #tie your heart to mine #diane x tom #dianecore #peaky blinders au #douglas bennett #lois bennett world on fire

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scarlethoodi · 1 year

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Now that my emotions have settled and I’m more levelheaded- though I unfortunately don’t own a physical copy of the book to reference back to- I want to discuss why I think Bree’s root, being at Volition, her screaming at Vera-the hole and most importantly her cutting off contact with her ancestors and on a “lesser” scale denouncing Arthur. Anyways I wish I could re experience that moment when she screamed after Vera and broke through Volition’s barrier with her power surge.

The way I see it Bree doesn’t truly hold any negative feelings toward Vera but her frustrations were warranted. One daughter at a time for all time meant that while Vera was able to save her child (in a sense) she made her line just that- a line. The line of Vera is essentially a cord that will always snap on itself before restarting; there are no aunties, uncles, cousins, etc. The trauma Vera held being a slave is one that Bree will never understand-which she did acknowledge- but Vera didn’t have to face what her daughter, granddaughter and future ascendants had to afterwards. Because not only were they blood marked but also scions of Arthur (side note: Erebus was playing chess not checkers) which most didn’t even know about. I especially think of Jessie who tried the most to learn her powers but the fear of the Shadow man was practically debilitating. And then there’s how young a lot of them would’ve died- like we know Faye went to college and had a career so from the moment she became pregnant her life was on a time limit and she fortunately got 16 years to raise her daughter and be a wife and mother and Bree’s not having babies anytime soon on her journey to learning her powers so she’s safe but one of the ancestors didn’t even get to meet her daughter.

And as drastic as it may have seemed, Bree did exhaust all her options and the only thing left that would’ve connected her with her ancestors is their fear which would’ve hindered her especially now that she left with the Hunter-Erebus. And one of the main critics I see on Goodreads is that Bree didn’t care about her Root work or the community which is such an odd thought process, especially when she was always working with those powers just as much as Arthur’s- hell even more because it’s were her abilities as a medium and immunity to mesmer came from it’s just that her Root was only for defense making it harder for her to use. She cut her connection because there was nothing left that could be offered to her just like she cut her connection to Arthur because there was nothing left she’d get from him (besides he tricked her). I think the short stay at Volition despite how it ended was needed to truly demonstrate how much power Bree had within her from both sides of her lineage-which is really just one side because her ancestors were scions as well.

I think the best way I can think of it; Volition as a place for the descendants of the enslaved specifically root crafters was still such a separate thing from Bree’s power because we’re constantly told that blood crafted is a demonized power combine with how the Order does things with their oaths and ancestor lineages-taking/keeping instead of offering/borrowing the powers Bree had was always in some sort of contrast with other root crafters like Mariah and Patricia

Final point Bree had to distant herself from everything because as a median she was always in risk of possession and if she couldn’t properly put a lid on that while she’s going through training she’d probably get possessed again. Though I think between this and her Root work I’m excited to see where the story goes with her training

#legendborn #bloodmarked #the legendborn cycle #bree matthews #root work #root craft #can you tell I’m rusty at character analysis or whatever

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ninja-muse · 11 months

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So it's somehow the end of May? Not sure how that happened, even though I have been busy so of course the time has flown by! Things done this last month include hosting family multiple times, visiting my first cat café, visiting family, wedding reception, and baking my first rhubarb pie. Somehow I managed to fit 9 books and 2 DNFs in there, and was very good about not taking too many ARCs home. I didn't even buy anything!

Also, this is the first time I think I've ever underpacked physical books for a holiday. I thought for sure that the SF book I popped in my bag would last me at least three days but no, A History of What Comes Next was a fast read and lasted one. Thank goodness for Libby and my cache of T. Kingfisher e-novellas, is all I'm saying. Reading those back to back got my reading goal back on track for the year.

Novel is still progressing apace. Digger is still not shipped. It is reading outdoors weather but I've yet to do so. Nothing else to report.

And now without further ado, in order of enjoyment…

Magisteria - Nicholas Spencer

A history of the interactions between science and (Western) (mostly Christian) religion.

7.5/10

warning: discussions of racism, race science, eugenics, historical Islamophobia

After Villon - Roger Farr

Poetry written in conversation with a late medieval French criminal-poet.

🏳️‍🌈, 🇨🇦

The Sinister Booksellers of Bath - Garth Nix

Susan and Bath’s magical booksellers must rescue Merlin after he’s trapped in a map—which might mean taking on an unknown Sovereign.

6.5/10

🏳️‍🌈 secondary character (genderqueer), Afro-British secondary characters, Muslim secondary character

A History of What Comes Next - Sylvain Neuvel

A lineage of scientifically-minded women work behind the scenes with one goal: Get Them To The Stars Before Evil Kills Us All.

7/10

main characters consistently read as POC, 🏳️‍🌈 main character (sapphic), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary character (sapphic), Black-Russian secondary character, Chinese-American secondary character, 🇨🇦 Warning: attempted rape, early methods of conversion therapy

Vera Wong’s Unsolicited Advice for Murderers - Jesse Q. Sutanto

When Vera finds a body in her tea shop, she knows exactly what to do—call the police and then solve the murder herself.

7/10

Chinese-American protagonist, largely Asian-American cast, Chinese-Indonesian author

warning: domestic abuse (not physical)

A Master of Djinn - P. Djèlí Clark

Agent Fatma investigates a mass murder with possible ties to djinn magic.

7/10

largely Egyptian cast, Nubian secondary characters, 🏳️‍🌈 main character (lesbian), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary character (sapphic), largely Muslim cast, African-American author

warning: contains racists, colonial mindsets, and cultural appropriators

Kiss Her Once For Me - Alison Cochrun

Ellie agrees to a fake engagement and marriage over the Christmas holidays—only to find out her fiancé’s sister is the one-night stand she couldn’t get over.

7/10

🏳️‍🌈 main character (bi), main character with anxiety disorder, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (lesbian, trans, nonbinary, multisexual), Korean-American secondary characters, Latinx secondary character, Filipina secondary character, secondary character with ADHD

warning: depiction of anxiety and panic attacks, toxic parent-child relationship

Minor Mage - T. Kingfisher

Twelve-year-old Oliver is sent away from his village on a quest to bring back rain. He knows three spells, and one is to repel armadillo dander.

6.5/10

Mortal Follies - Alexis Hall

Maelys Micklemore has been cursed, a terrible thing for a young Regency woman. Her best hope of breaking the spell is the mannish Lady Georgiana, who might be a witch. Out in June.

6.5/10

🏳️‍🌈 protagonist (sapphic), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (sapphic, gay, trans woman), Black British secondary character, Afro-British secondary character

Picture Books

The Octopus Escapes - Maile Meloy with Felicia Salter (illustrator)

An octopus is brought to an aquarium. Being captive is great—at first.

DNF

The Last Heir to Blackwood Library - Hester Fox

Ivy inherits an estate in Yorkshire, with a magnificent library, recalcitrant servants, a ghost, and a curse.

The Absolute Book - Elizabeth Knox

A woman who lost her sister to violence finds herself drawn into another world with bearings on her family history.

Currently reading:

Shadowlands - Matthew Green

Short histories of lost settlements from across the UK.

The Gifts - Liz Hyder

In 1840s England, a woman grows wings.

Stats Monthly total: 9+1 Yearly total: 53/140 Queer books: 5 Authors of colour: 2 Books by women: 3 Authors outside the binary: 0 Canadian authors: 2 Off the TBR shelves: 2 Books hauled: 0 ARCs acquired: 3 ARCs unhauled: 2 DNFs: 2

January February March April

#books #booklr #bookblr #adult booklr #book covers #book photography #my photos #reading wrap-ups #book recommendations #rec lists #read in 2023 #who queue?

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