#1900's ad

[misforgotten2]

National Geographic Magazine - October 1928

[demifiendrsa]

Canadian actor Donald Sutherland has passed away at age 88 after a long illness.

Sutherland rose to fame after starring in films including The Dirty Dozen, M*A*S*H, Kelly's Heroes, Klute, Don't Look Now, Fellini's Casanova, 1900, The Eagle Has Landed, National Lampoon's Animal House, Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978), The First Great Train Robbery, Ordinary People, and Eye of the Needle. He later went on to star in many other films where he appeared either in leading or supporting roles such as A Dry White Season, JFK (1991), Outbreak, A Time to Kill, Without Limits, Space Cowboys, Big Shot's Funeral, The Italian Job, Cold Mountain, Pride & Prejudice (2005), Aurora Borealis, The Hunger Games franchise, and Ad Astra. His most recent TV roles include Swimming With Sharks and Lawmen: Bass Reeves.

[akhaste]

Lee Yoon - Song of the Bandits Sketchs/ Studies 1920's & 1890's

Bonus: 1920's, but without the 'stache

[neocurio]

dYKE AUTO SUPPLY

[amtrak12]

Ah the existential panic of 'Is this chapter too long now?????': the only drawback of rewriting.

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ masterlist

𓆩♡𓆪 chapters:

1854 - could it be love?

1880 - labyrinth of my heart

1900 - with you i'm free

1943 - wounds and whispers

1973 - we meet again my dear...

1974 - ...but it was never meant to be

2003 - i can see us lost in the memory

2003 - who are we to fight the alchemy?

2003 - who are we to fight the alchemy? pt.2

2004 - i love you, i'm sorry

interlude - i have questions

2023 - nothing matters but you

𓆩♡𓆪 summary: Logan has spent lifetimes haunted by a curse only he understands—meeting the same woman, you, in every era, only to lose you over and over again. Each time, you’re reborn without memories of your past lives, while Logan, who remembers everything, tries in vain to protect you from the tragedies that seem destined to follow.

𓆩♡𓆪 pairing: Logan Howlett (X-Men) x fem!reader

𓆩♡𓆪 tags: fluff, angst, character death(s), outdated mindsets on women, mention of injuries, time skipping, soulmates, more tags to be added (more specific tags come along with chapter)

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Regarding silhouettes being key to recreating a certain decade's look and vibe: do you have any useful references for larger-bodied people? As a fat transmasc, I struggle to find my body type represented in historical fashion illustrations. Anything around the 1940's/50's/60's would be especially appreciated, as well as general-purpose advice for plus-size vintage aspirations. Thank you!

I don't have specific resources, but welcome folks to chime in. My two main observations, though:

1) Finding true vintage in your size may be tough, because larger garments tend to see the most wear and alterations over time. Read up on "survivorship bias" on why people think the past was only populated by skinny people, when it was nothing of the sort.

2) When sold as a set, men's suits have a 6" spread between chest and waist measurements. I rarely find a trans masc who fits a ready-made suit. So, when buying new vintage, shop for seperates.

That said, I did find this article about the evolution of Big & Tall men's sizing. It has a lot of vintage photos of fat men in casual and dressy attire, plus shopping recommendations. If you want more style examples, I'd suggest zeroing in on some of the fat celebs of the day and look for more photos.

(Quick warning - looks like this article has auto-generated ads, so you might see some weightloss garbage.)

If you are on Facebook, I regularly see large guys post in this vintage menswear group (as well as transmasc folks). People tend to just share their fits, but I'm sure there will be plenty of fat guys who can give you some good recommendations.

Hope that helps!

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Cute 1900 home in Three Oaks, MI has some very beautiful original features, and some modern hacks. (Like I wish they hadn't covered the chimney in siding.) 4bds 2ba, 2,283 sq ft, $620k.

The entrance foyer strikes me as odd. I wonder if they put up that wall. It just seems awkward.

I expect that an original mantle was moved from wherever the chimney is (the one that they covered in siding).

I was wondering what that weird, wrinkled curtain was for.

Turns out it's to hide the built-in wall storage for the electronics. I would take that down. It's ugly.

Cute, sunny dining room. Oooh, there's a little door behind the sideboard. That's got to be original. I wonder if the stairs were open at one time.

Adorable kitchen cabinets. I like the backsplash. Not a fan of tiled counters. The cabinet doors are sagging, though. I hope that can be fixed.

This is great- the original inset for the stove. I like the floor, too.

Very nice- they made an insert for the fridge, too.

Newer addition is a large sunroom.

Then, down this knotty pine hallway-

You come to another newer addition that houses a lap pool.

Now, we're on the upper level. It's pretty sunny up here.

This looks like a newer part of the house.

It looks like it used to be the attic.

How cute- a bright vintage bath.

Surprisingly roomy, being it's under the pitched roof.

Long driveway with a 2 car garage.

The lot size is .20 acre and there's a little covered patio, but plenty of space to expand.

In this aerial view you can see a weird extension they added to the house, that I think is the lap pool room.

But then, there's this empty space, too. I can't tell where this is. Could it be above the garage? Maybe it's accessed from the stairs next to the pool room. I don't know, but it has potential.

So many add-ons.

https://benstephen.cressyeverett.com/s/mi/berrien-county/three-oaks/49128/112-e-sycamore-street/dmgid_173230328.html

[oillipheist9000]

Heyy

So, this is mostly just a fun timeline I made with little research backing it, but I thought it might be cool to share?

It goes through what historical events happened throughout Alastor’s life that might have impacted him and sets the stage for what his life might have looked like. It does hinge quite a bit on US history, so I will also touch on parts of that for our friends who aren’t from the US and don’t know : D

Now keep in mind that this is more of just a list of fun facts that i’ve shoved into a readable outline, than anything put together lol.

Alastor is said to be in his 30’s or 40’s when he died in 1933, this puts his year of birth at a rough range of 1890-1900. For the purpose of this timeline, I will be assuming that Alastor was born in the year 1902 because I want to. This would make him 31 at the time of his death.

In 1892, the supreme court ruled on Plessy vs Ferguson, which was what established the idea of ‘Separate but Equal’ <- (i'm assuming people know what that is and stuff, if you don’t know, feel free to ask, I can give more of a history lesson)

From 1900-1909, education past the 5th grade did not EXIST in New Orleans for black children. This is a large part of why I believe a birth year of at least 1900 would be more accurate for Alastor, as he would have been 7-9 (2nd-4th) when middle school (6th-8th) became available to him.

In 1917, McDonogh No. 35 High School became the first public high school for black teens. Alastor would have been 15 in my timeline. This means that he would have likely been out of school for a year under the assumption that he wouldn’t be able to go anymore. (There were a couple private schools, but those were Expensive!!)

1920: KKK reemerged in Louisiana <- (again, assuming people know the history on this, if you would like a quick history lesson, lmk!!)

In 1921, Alastor graduated! Yay!! He is now 19!

Now, a fun fact! Throughout all of this, radio has not existed as a Thing in New Orleans. Alastor would not have grown up listening to the radio. It would have been new tech for him!!

In 1922, the first radio station came to New Orleans!!! It’s called WWL and it runs … drumroll please … ADS!!! In an attempt to raise funds for Loyola University! Exciting, right? : D

By 1927, the Federal Radio Commission was established in an effort to help organize airwaves, which had become messy and disorganized from the abundance of unlicensed, random people broadcasting.

1933: Alastor dies D:

Also 1933, oddly enough, A newspaper somehow managed to get radio stations in New Orleans legally banned from airing news from the last 24 hours?????

An interesting note. This ban went through in the summer. Deer season is in the winter (Dec-Jan), so it was either banned 6 months before or 6 months after Alastor’s death

1934: FRC is replaced by the Federal Communications Commission

This is pretty much all I have. I also am including some of the links to sources that I thought were interesting. Super open to discussions and questions lol. Hope someone enjoyed reading all this lmao

And also @nunalastor cause you seemed interested and I finally got everything together lol

[fannyrosie]

What do you mean, "I am overdressed for the beach"?

Today's little local history lesson that you won't find on any of the Village des écluses or Pointe-des-Cascades websites:

From 1900 to 1959, the Soulanges canal was where most boats would pass through to navigate the Saint-Laurent river in the area South-West of Montreal. At Pointe-des-Cascades, right next to the canal, there was an industrial site where all the maintenance materials for the canal were being built and stored, but when the canal closed in 1959, that site was left abandoned. In 1986, the site got revived, and the industrial buildings were repurposed as a summer theatre, restaurant and boutiques, and the riverside, as a small beach. However, the site was abandoned once again in the late 2010s, only to be picked up again by a new team wanting to restore the 80s resort it once was.

So, how is my 1980's does 1910's nautical outfit? I have also added a picture of my brother and I on that day, two pictures at Ste-Anne-de-Bellevue at sunset (with my sister and a different hat) and a picture of the abandoned "Hotel" (which was never a hotel) at Village des écluses, taken in April, on my Instagram post.

Outfit rundown Skirt: vintage Pink House Top: old Axes Femme Hat: vintage Shoes: old Queen Bee Parasol/umbrella (served both purposes that day): Alice and the Pirates Navy cat stamp brooch: Via Carousel All other jewellery: vintage

[justbelievinginmagic]

˗ˏˋ like a waltz ˎˊ˗ series masterlist

pairing(s): ATEEZ OT8 x Fem!Reader

series summary: Your entire life has been dedicated to one thing: the ballet. For decades, you’ve trained, lived, and breathed for ballet, hoping one day you’d be the star prima ballerina for the Cromer Opera House. Despite the shady politics of patrons and the daily strife of a disapproving choreographer, you were determined to rise to stardom by your own talent. When 8 mysterious bachelors arrive to town and fall for your charms, will you be able to reach your goal or be dragged into a selfish waltz between love and obsession?

OR – mafia ateez will do anything to keep the independent ballerina who aches for the spotlight by their side. anything.

warnings/tags: Inspired by Ateez’s Ice on my Teeth MV & Teasers, Mafia AU, Ballet AU, early 1900’s AU with some divergences in advancements (i.e if i think itd be cool to include, this world has it earlier than irl), 3rd person POV, use of YN, mxm, polyteez, mature topics, strong language, ballet lore, angst, fluff, suggestive topics, violence, unequal power dynamics, allusions to exploitation in ballet, injuries, smoking, more tags to be added.

word count: ~10k written; ongoing

part 1 - brisé (posted 11/20/2024) part 2 - developpe (tba)

[misforgotten2]

The Horseless Age March 1902

Floyd Clymer's Historical Motor Scrapbook No. 1 1944

[deatherella]

4to2 Steampunk'd Skylar Sets

@soloriya 's Skylar and Skylar Decor sets converted to Sims 2. These were her contribution to TSR's Steampunk'd Theme.

The Skylar set includes a dining table, dining chair, bench (made from a loveseat, your Sims won't sit on it to eat unless you use a mod like Inge's ), ceiling lamp, cabinet, painting (2 subsets), curtain (with diagonal), floor lamp, and . . .

That test Sim stared at it for hours. I think she liked it.

The deco set has three candles and a table lamp that all work, a bottle, robot, octopus, airship, box, and a whale.

Let's see, what else do you need to know? I added a back face to the inside of the sphere on the ceiling lamp since it had none. I don't remember what it was originally but now it's around 1900 poly on a mesh that uses four tiles. I added a glass subset to the dining table for the glass parts. The tabletop and base are recolorable - there's only a recolor for the base. The recolors Soloriya had were mostly a change of color for the metal. I did the painting with two subsets for less recolor files. The items with fabric have a red recolor. The bulb doesn't light up on the Hand Table Lamp. Under the bulb on the table the light pattern shows up right, not sure why the bulb isn't playing along. I replaced Maxis' light bulbs from the mesh I cloned with the ones for the ceiling lamp so they are Maxis' white and act accordingly. Windows with sills that stick out will go through the curtains. I think that's it.

Download Skylar

Download Skylar Decor

[radioisntdead]

Not the sender for the original ask but I'm sorry I cannot help but imagine an alternative where the reader summoning Rosie is the most angsty teen ever.

They're imagining the stereotypical giant red demon with goat legs and horns- but instead there is just a pretty lady and Rosie is CONCERNED because there is a teenager in the attic of their house summoning demons, not because of any normal reason but because whatever could a child need a demon for? Do they need help? Auntie Rosie will help!

Summoning a demon but instead of taking your soul you just get adopted. If you take this seriously (you don't have to) add as much angst as you wish.

Good evening my dear! Sorry this took forever to get out! It got buried in my drafts

I added a knockoff slasher dude solely to murk the reader because, I don't know as a plot for death?? I don't remember my thoughts when sleep deprived I'm so sorry

Anyways Auntie Rosie supremacy,

Rosie & reader

Platonic

Warnings!!

This isn't my best work, it was written late at night when I was mildly delusional, death, stereotypical slasher dude, OOC

You were home alone, sat in your dark and gloomy attic surrounded by lit candles, a book you had stolen from a shady book shop was open in your hands and you had drawn a summoning circle in red paint from the dollar store.

You took a deep breath before reading out the incantation written in the book, fully prepared for something grotesque to crawl out.

Wind came forth swirling around you as the circle glowed, the sound of the wind was almost deafening, you could feel your sweater clinging onto your skin, each loose thread itching your skin

You tried your best to ignore it as you continued chanting as something rose from the circle.

Once you had finished the spell you shut your eyes as the wind winded down.

"Oh my! You're quite young aren't cha'!"

Your eyes opened as you looked up, instead of some grotesque creature with blood and horns hanging off of it, was a lady,

Her skin was gray, she was dressed in early 1900's fashion and her eyes were pitch black, like a endless void.

"Are you going to say anything or are you just going to sit there with your mouth open catchin' flies?"

She said with an eyebrow raised.

"I, shit, I'm sorry I wasn't expecting someone so pretty? I was expecting more-"

"Well aren't you a charmer! Allow me to guess, You were expecting someone more demonic looking?"

You nodded, "Yeah,"

The woman tilted her head ever so slightly,

"Well aren't you going to introduce yourself?"

This felt like a trap, what if giving your name to her would give her control of you like a fae? Probably not, but what if it was?

"Likewise, it's a pleasure! You can call me Auntie Rosie!"

"I'm [Name], nice to meet you?"

"Auntie Rosie?"

You weren't expecting the creature you summoned to be a pretty cannibal named Rosie, let alone for her to adopt you as a surrogate nibling, telling you to call her Auntie Rosie and nothing else.

She had to leave soon after you summoned her because she had 'overlord duties ' and 'A town to run' but she told you to summon her again soon.

And so you did, the next time Rosie tutted at the messy attic, saying that you should tidy up the area more if you were going to invite guests over, she asked you to grab some cleaning supplies.

You snuck down into the hall, leaving Rosie alone for a moment, you were as quiet as a mouse as you tiptoed past your sleeping suspected serial killer of a godfather, managing to make it to the kitchen to grab a few cleaning supplies and a broom before sneaking back.

Rosie hummed as she began moving boxes around, shaking her head at the amount of dust and other things that littered the floor.

"I'm back, I got a broom, dustpan, and some Clorox wipes," you say as your head popped up from the entrance,

She said taking the broom,

"Good! Now let's make this place suitable, this much dust is horrible for your health! Horrible!"

You nodded, placing the remaining objects onto the floor and carefully picking up the boxes.

"You organize those pesky boxes dearie, I'll start sweeping."

The attic completely changed from gloomy to more refined within the day.

The boxes were stacked up forming a small wall with some free space behind it, the floors had been swept and sanitized (aside from the summoning circle) the candles were replaced with fresh ones, that book that summoned her was placed on one of the boxes.

Rosie had gone back and asked you to summon her back within the hour, bringing back some furniture with her.

She brought a smallish table, two fancy looking chairs, and a rug.

Rosie said as she sat in one of the chairs you in the other, drinking tea, you didn't know where she had gotten the tea from or when it got into your hands.

"Now that makes this place far better, far far better don't you think?"

You didn't like tea all that much but it felt rude to not drink it.

You wondered if it would kill you as you took a sip,

You glanced around at the open space, honestly it was overdo, you had been sleeping in there for a couple of years now and hadn't gotten around to it.

"Yeah, it feels less stuffy for sure,"

"As it should, now that's settled why did such a lovely young lady like yourself want to summon a demon?"

She asked setting her teacup down, getting straight to the point, you choked on your tea, clearing your throat you looked anywhere but in Rosie's void-like eyes.

It was silent for a few minutes,

"It's a long story, but basically parents went missing, moved in with my Godparents, Godmother went missing, Godfather started being suspicious, pretty sure he killed them, can't prove it and I think I'm next." You said in one large breath,

"Well shit, I wasn't expecting that, that's a very messy situation,"

"Auntie Rosie dearie."

"Yeah it is Miss Rosie,"

"Sorry Auntie Rosie."

You sat in silence for a moment, you fiddled with the hem of your sweater, did she believe you? Honestly you didn't particularly believe it yourself it was all suspected.

The attic felt gloomy again once Rosie left, you were once again left alone.

"Would you like me to eat him?"

"Par- Pardon me?!"

You let out a sigh before moving to one of the boxes pulling out a throw blanket and covering the circle, no one aside from you really came up there but couldn't hurt to be cautious.

You moved to the small space behind the boxes, you open another box pulling out a few two sleeping bags, layering them onto each other and placing a pillow on it, opening yet another box you pulled out a thick blanket, you laid on the sleeping bags, curling up into it and closing your eyes until sleep came for you.

A routine began, you'd carry on like normal, going to school, working shady part-time jobs, shoplift storage safe foods at large corporations like target, and go home before your Godfather finished work, sneak back into the attic, and depending on the day summon Rosie.

Rosie was concerned to say the least, you were young, not even a proper adult yet, and you were summoning cannibals in your Attic!

Not to mention how causally there was a whole missing people who were probably was murdered thing going on, would more detail go into that? No.

Rosie truly became an Aunt to you, bringing you trinkets, hyping you up, asking if you wanted her to eat your Godfather, after all that is what you originally summoned her for, but you didn't want to risk getting moved to a different area and having to redraw the circle to summon Rosie, what if you do it wrong? What if you never see her again?

So she didn't do anything to him, listening to your decision.

You would sometimes steal or buy something you think she'd like, and give it to her during her visits, she'd typically adore it whatever it was, because it came from you!

The two of you would have tea, give each other updates on life, and the afterlife.

It was nice, but like all nice things, it unfortunately came to an end.

You ran up the stairs, throwing your backpack at him to knock him down the stairs as you pulled out the attic ladder and hurriedly climbed the ladder up before kicking down the ladder to the attic, like a slasher protagonist, you hastily moved a few heavy boxes over the hatch.

He came home early, and when you walked inside the house to sneak upstairs into your attic, nothing was said, so it was concerning when he grabbed his murder weapon of choice and bolted off after you.

You just needed to summon Rosie and everything would be alright, they couldn't hurt you if Rosie was here,

You shakily pulled out the lighter that stayed in your pocket as you heard your Godfather shout your name, banging on the entrance.

Lighting the candles you scrambled to sit beside the circle, closing your eyes you began the summoning.

The wind began pushing as per usual,

The banging got louder, you could hear one of the boxes fall,

Just a few more seconds, and Auntie Rosie would appear, just a few more seconds and you'd be free, free from this lunatic, you could get a proper job that wasn't suspicious, probably go to collage, make proper friends that you could tell Rosie about with pride, you could give Rosie gifts that weren't stolen or cheap.

Just a few more seconds that's all you needed.

The hatch flew open, his eyes widened, no words were spoken, you didn't even get the chance to defend yourself when the murder weapon of choice, which was a machete because of course it was, stabbed into you.

Rosie appeared, smile dropping the moment she saw you on the ground, blood leaking into the Attic floors, the attic that she had helped you clean up, that she spent time with you in.

Rosie's eyes locked onto your godfather, bloody machete in hand, her mouth opened, revealing her razor sharp teeth.

Blood was splattered across the walls, Rosie wiped blood from her mouth with a handkerchief before kneeling down next to you and gently lifting you up into her lap,

Your eyes were glossy, and blood covered you.

You smiled up at her as she gently brushed away the hair from your face.

You tried to sit up but couldn't,

Rosie rubbed your back, trying to make you comfortable, unsure of what she could say to soothe you, you were dying and she could do much to stop it.

"Yes [Name]?"

"Auntie Rosie?"

"I,-" you take a painful breath, your last word privileges being revoked

"Shh, it's alright don't strain yourself, Close your eyes and rest dearie."

She said pulling you closer, rocking you gently in her arms until you breathed your last.

The door opened to the empty Emporium, Rosie sat in a chair writing down a grocery list,

"I'm sorry but the emporium's closed now!" She shouted over not looking up from her list.

"Auntie Rosie?"

Her head snapped over, eyes filling up with tears as she saw the very child that had died in her arms months ago, the child that she had adopted as her own, standing in her emporium with a nervous smile on their lovely face, the child she cared for had ended up below with her.

"[Name]? Oh my stars! my dear [name]!"

She got up from her seat, rushing over to embrace you, wrapping her arms around you as tears gathered up in your eyes.

"I missed you Auntie Rosie."

"I missed ya too Darlin', now-" she broke the hug and held your shoulders

"Let's get you settled in shall we? Are you hungry? I think we have some leftover pinkie fingers."

"I forgot you were a cannibal."

Rosie had prepared you a room, far better than the attic, because it was a legit room, with proper insulation.

You were staring in a mirror taking in your new appearance when Rosie knocked on the door,

"Sweetheart may I come in?"

"Sure! Come on in''

Rosie walked in and placed papers in front of you,

"Be a dear and sign these please"

"is this a contract for my soul?"

"Close! It's adoption papers, sign them."

Good evening folks, I crave sleep, also my apologies this was requested ages ago and I just now got to it, hope you enjoyed even though it's messy, I just killed off the reader the angst isn't that angsty

I wrote the angst first then everything else

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Pearls.

Synopsis: Raising a child was the hardest thing a mother could do, especially alone.

A/n: I was listening to Pearls by Sade and thought of Alastor’s mother, so I decided to write about it because I feel like no one talks about how much of a godsend that woman is. Everyone’s always talking about Alastor and the reader, or Alastor this and Alastor that , we need to thank the woman who gave us Alastor. (Vivziepop) HIS MOMMA THE SWEETEST WOMAN IN NEW ORLEANS LOUISIANA DAMNIT, anyways hope you guys enjoyed :)

Pearls by Sade

Warnings: Mentions of Cheating, mentions Racism, typical 1900’s - 1930’s stereotypes, NOT AN ALASTOR X READER, just a background one-shot on Alastor and his Momma because we need more of them out here

Navigation!! // Masterlist!! // Serendipity Writes (event)

There is a woman in Somalia

Scraping for pearls on the roadside

There's a force stronger than nature

Keeps her will alive

Sylvie tried her hardest. She was raising a son on her own, working anywhere she could. Lord knew things weren’t easy, but what was? Life was hard, and it wasn’t going to go soft on Sylvie just because of her newborn son. If someone would have told her a year ago the man she fell in love with would have left her with a child, she’d have incense all over her all the time.

Alastor’s father was not a bragger. In fact, he hid Sylvie as best as he could. Giving her money every week by midnight, enough to keep her mouth shut, though she would never tell anyone, but not enough money to last her and her son. Babies were expensive, and things were only becoming worth more and more money. Who in their right mind would hire a black woman to work for them? Hell, even showing her face was a bit risky, the only reason she hadn’t been thrown into jail was because of her son. Though she didn’t like admitting this fact.

She dressed in her best clothes, shined her shoes and kissed her son goodbye, leaving him with her most trusted support, her mother. Sylvies mother knew of her, frivolous activities, to say the least. But, that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to be there for her daughter any less. Sylvie tried her best to straighten her hair, despite her mother’s warnings not too. She needed to look pretty, tamed, and well kept. Having her large fro wouldn’t land her a job anywhere. She needed to look her best, even if it came off as a desperate attempt to survive. But she needed too.

She stands in front of the mirror, brushing her now straight head of hair as carefully as she could. A red hat sitting perfectly on her hair, her long beige skirt stopping just below her knees. Her long sleeve white shirt embellished with a perfect pearl necklace. Ironically, it wasn’t hers, but her mother’s. Her father had worked hard to get enough money to gift it to her mother. She sighed, mentally hoping that she got this job. It was hardly anything, fifty cents an hour. If she worked every day for a week, four hours the way the ad in the paper said, then she’d have ten dollars a week. With the money from Alastor’s father, that left her with thirty five dollars. The heat alone was forty dollars. She’d be five short, but thankfully living with her mother made things a bit, easier.

“Are you leaving in time?” Sylvie’s mother asks. She stands in the doorway with the small child in her hands, gently rocking him. He’s silent, soft snores flowing through Sylvie’s ears and she smiles. She walks toward her mother, away from the mirror and stops. She reaches out slowly, and her mother gently hands the child to her. She takes her son in her hands and smiles, turning away from her mother while slowly rocking her son. Her mother reaches forward to close the door quietly, letting Sylvie have her time with her son. Sylvie smiles down at him, sitting at the edge of her bed slowly.

“I’ll give you the best life I can.” She whispers, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I promise.”

This is how she's dying

She's dying to survive

Don't know what she's made of

I would like to be that brave

By the time Alastor was five he knew how to read and write fluently. He could read books for days and knew all the latest dances as Sylvie made it her priority to make him versatile. She wanted her son to be the best little man he could, well, little now at least.

“I don’t get it. Romeo was in love with every girl he saw.” Alastor said, adjusting his skeeters to look at her better. She stood at the stove, sliding peppers, onions and a few other spices into the pot in front of her. It had been two years since her mother passed, and she stayed in her house with Alastor, wanting to raise him around love. She knew her mother was looking down on them, and one day, hoped to be with her too.

“Honey, stories aren’t for you to understand. They’re just there to make you think.” She says, swiping her hands over the pot after putting the cutting board down. She smiles and turns to him, stopping her movements. She pinches his cheek before smiling. “From the looks of it, seems like it has you thinking too.” She says, before letting go to walk to the sink. Alastor follows behind her quickly, still speaking.

“Maybe, I’m not sure. Do you think they deserved to be together?” Alastor asked, before Sylvie shrugged, letting the cold water hit her hands. She cleans her hands off, shutting the water quickly before wiping her hands on her towel tucked neatly into the waistband of her apron.

“I think they deserved to be happy, and if that means the two of them being in love then, yes.” Sylvie says, perking up at the music flowing through the radio. Though fairly new, the small box was her favorite thing in the world, and raising Alastor with that love almost made it feel genetic. “Oh look honey, our song is on.” Sylvie says, turning the volume up a bit. Suddenly, Alastor begins dancing quickly in his place, and as Sylvie turns back to him, she finds herself laughing, watching her son dance his heart out all on his own, albeit a bit odd, but he was having fun, and that was what mattered. She danced her way back over to him, holding her hands out for him to grab, which he did, happily spinning around his mother with laughter.

“Oh the food!” Sylvie said through her laughs, walking back over to the pot while Alastor continued to dance until the songs end. He sits on the floor, watching his mother stir the pot, fixing his skeeters.

“What’cha making?” Alastor asked, standing on his tip-toes to see, leaning against the counter.

“Jambalaya.” She said with a wink.

She cries to the heaven above

There is a stone in my heart

She lives a life she didn't choose

And it hurts like brand new shoes

Alastor was eight years old when Sylvie found out his father was married to another woman. He was eight years old when the woman showed up to their home, her two kids with her. He watched the woman yell at his mother in their doorway, her kids behind her as they observed Alastor standing behind his mother.

“You filthy slut! Sleeping with my husband! How dare you?!” The woman screamed, jabbing her finger into Sylvie’s chest. She was in tears, embarrassed, confused, heartbroken and ashamed.

“I didn’t know! He didn’t tell me anything! I never knew you were married or even had kids!” Sylvie defended, an arm in front of Alastor to shield him from her. The woman stoped, looking at Alastor with disgust, before dread washed over her.

“Don’t tell me that boy is his…” She trailed off, voice getting quieter. Sylvie said nothing, turning to Alastor with a sad smile, teary eyed.

“How about you go, go to the sitting room. Okay?” She asked quietly, giving him her best smile. He nodded, giving the woman and her children one more look, before listening to his mother. Once he was out of earshot, Sylvie turned back to the woman and sighed. “Yes, that is his son. He doesn’t come to see us, and he never has.” Sylvie said, before looking at the woman’s children, a boy and a girl. Both were pale, with light blue eyes and lighter hair to match their mother. The boy looked more like Alastor’s father, and Sylvie couldn’t deny the way it hurt to look at him, so she looked away. “He doesn’t come here anymore. I haven’t seen him since I told him I was pregnant. That was eight years ago.” Sylvie said. The woman’s eyes widened.

“Eight years ago?” She asked in a whisper. Sylvie said nothing, smiling at the two kids.

“Please don’t let this tear your home apart.” Sylvie said, her heart going out to the woman’s children. “They don’t deserve that. It was in the past and I-… I’ve moved on.” Sylvie said, though it sounded like she was trying to convince herself. In truth, she had been jumping from job to job at night, while homeschooling Alastor during the day. Paying for good paper, school books. It was bad enough she had been wearing the same clothes for years, only spending money on Alastor. His clothes were larger than him, it was easier to buy them bigger so she didn’t need to keep wasting money on out-grown clothes.

“I see��let’s go children.” The woman said, putting her hands on the children’s shoulders and guiding them down the porch steps, which had been rotting away slowly due to the old wood. When they were finally out of sight, Sylvie shut the door, sighing with a heavy heart. She walked through the halls of the home and to the sitting room, finding Alastor sitting in silence, looking down at his hands, radio playing softly in the background.

“Hey honey.” Sylvie said softly, the boys head looking at her quickly.

“Hi momma.” He said quietly. She gave him a sad smile and sat down next to him.

“You okay?” She asked, and he just sat in silence again, looking down at his hands.

“Who was that?” Alastor asked, and Sylvie just sighed. She knew one day she would have to tell him, but so soon? Sylvie took a deep breath, her gaze fixed on Alastor’s questioning eyes. “Alastor, those children… they’re your father’s, and that woman is their mother,” she began gently, choosing her words with care. “Your father and I share a past that happened before you came into this world. It’s a complicated story, and I’ve been doing my best to shield you from it, wanting to give you a chance at a simpler life.” She paused, gauging his reaction before continuing, “Their family is a part of your history, and while I’ve moved on, it seems the past has a way of catching up with us. I want you to know that whatever happens, we face it together, as a family. You’re the most important thing in my life, Alastor, and nothing will change that.”

Hurts like brand new shoes

There is a woman in Somalia

The sun gives her no mercy

The same sky we lay under

Burns her to the bone

Alastor was ten when the topic of his father came up again. It was after Sylvie and him had come back from groceries. Sylvie was still working multiple jobs at night, leaving at eight once Alastor was tucked into bed and sound. She had begun to sell some of her things, he was growing quicker now. He was up to her shoulder, and he was only ten. Sylvie was average height, five feet and four inches, with Alastor at five feet and two inches. His hair was getting straighter the more he grew, his tight curls softening into looser ones, but still made him handsome nonetheless.

Walking up the stairs to the porch, Sylvie and Alastor stopped dead in their tracks upon seeing two children, around his age, sitting on their front porch chairs, plates of hot food in their hands. Sylvie had remembered them instantly, the boy especially looking like Alastor’s father.

“Hello. May we help you..?” Sylvie asked carefully, Alastor staring the two children down. The girl just frowned and looked to the ground, while the boy stood up. He was the same height as Alastor too.

“We wanted too… speak with you Miss..?” The boy questioned, unsure of Sylvie’s name. She lied on the spot, giving him some dumb white name instead of her own.

“Adam’s.” She said quickly. Alastor said nothing, but his face said it all as he watched his mother open the door to their home, paper bags in hand. Alastor held the rest, all the while staring at the young boy and girl. “Would you like to come in?” She asked the children, and the boy shook his head.

“No thank you Ms. Adam’s, we just wanted to ask you something. Is that alright?” The boy asked. Sylvie nodded slowly, opening the door wider for Alastor to step in. Alastor stood behind Sylvie, curiously watching.

“Oh alright, just a moment please then.” Sylvie said with a small smile, and the boy nodded back to her. Sylvie shut the door, and Alastor turned on his heel to the kitchen.

“Momma, are those the kids you told me about?” He asked, knowing Sylvie, his mother, had given him bits and pieces of his father’s history, his children and life. Sylvie said nothing until the two got to the kitchen, placing the groceries on the counter. Sylvie gave Alastor a thoughtful look, uncertainty clouding her features. "I'm not sure, honey. They didn't mention the reason," she admitted, her voice tinged with a hint of worry. "It seems they're here with questions or concerns. I'll find out when I talk to them." Alastor, sensing his mother's concern, stepped closer to her. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her in a reassuring hug. Sylvie embraced him back, the shared warmth a silent acknowledgment of their unbreakable bond.

"Alright, Momma. Let me know if you need me," Alastor said, offering his support as Sylvie prepared to face the unexpected visit from his half-siblings. Alastor stood in the kitchen, putting groceries away per Sylvie’s request. Sylvie steps back outside, nodding to the two children.

“So, what can I help you with?”

Long as afternoon shadows

It's gonna take her to get home

Each grain carefully wrapped up

Pearls for her little girl

Alastor moved away from home when he was eighteen, going to New York to pursue his career in journalism. Sylvie supported him fully, saving money every month since he was thirteen for the occasion. She’d have him read her the paper while she made dinner, listening to him talk and perfect his voice.

Recently for his birthday, Sylvie had taken him to see a play. Romeo and Juliet, the first ever ‘complex’ book he’d read, so naturally it was only right his first play follow the same format right?

“Take care of yourself for me, okay honey?” Sylvie asked as she stood at the station with Alastor. He just smiled down at her, watching her dust off his shoulders and straighten his tie.

“I will, don’t worry about me, please.” He said with a smile, allowing her to fix his hair and shift his skeeters, knowing it was just her nerves.

“You know I can’t help it.” She said with a soft smile, hearing the train horn go off again. “Go, before you miss your train.” She said quickly, stepping on her tip toes to kiss him on the cheek before stepping away. To her surprise, her son, who usually truly disliked anyone touching him, embraced her. She smiled and patted his back softly, trying her hardest not to cry right there. “Write me when you get there.” Sylvie said, and Alastor just nodded.

“Love you momma.” He said quietly to her, before he pulled away, a bright smile back on his face. “I’ll write you as soon as I get to the city.” He said, and Sylvie nodded. Watching her son get on the train and leave, adorned in his best suit, brand new as Sylvie had saved so much for it just for this moment.

Sylvie returned home that day, walking into her now empty home with tears in her eyes. She went to her bedroom, opening a small box out from under her bed. Tears streamed down her face as she opened the box, picking up a small bottle from inside, popping the cork off and tracing her finger along the rim. Then, quietly, she spoke to herself.

“s'il vous plaît, ancêtres, protégez-le aussi longtemps que vous le pouvez” ( “please ancestors, protect him for as long as you can”)

In the bustling city of New York, Alastor found that it was a bit easier to land a job, though not much, it was a start. He settled into the fast-paced rhythm of city life, immersing himself in the world of news and media. Soon enough, he climbed his way to the top, changing his accent and becoming so well known his mother listened to his broadcast everyday.

Back home, Sylvie eagerly awaited Alastor’s letters, cherishing every word that bridged the distance between them. The letters became a lifeline, a way for mother and son to stay connected despite the miles.

As Alastor navigated his way through the competitive world of journalism, he found success, but the city’s relentless pace also brought its own set of trials. He was a mixed man, people did not take kindly to that fact. But status meant more than anything and he had the money to get by. With each triumph and setback, he continued to write to Sylvie, sharing his experiences and seeking comfort in her unwavering support.

Their bond, though physically stretched, remained unbroken.

Hallelujah

Alastor was twenty three when he came back home. He had gotten a transfer and began to host his show in Louisiana. Living with his mother hadn’t been a difficult adjustment. In fact, to Alastor, it felt like things had fallen right back into place. Until it hadn’t. As Alastor grew, the shadows of both the roaring twenties and the practice of voodoo cast their complex hues over their lives. Sylvie, a practitioner of voodoo, had passed down the sacred traditions to her son, weaving a tapestry of mysticism and heritage into the fabric of their existence.

In moments of desperation, Alastor found himself drawn to the potent rituals he had learned from his mother. The voodoo practices, once a source of connection and understanding, became a tempting tool to manipulate circumstances in his favor. Alastor, in the pursuit of success and happiness, began using the ancient arts for personal gain, delving into a darker side of the mystic practices.

Sylvie, sensing her son's divergence from the righteous path of voodoo, couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. Yet, beneath her disapproval, a mother's unwavering love persisted. She yearned for Alastor's happiness, even if it meant witnessing him tread on ethically murky grounds. Sylvie grappled with the conflict between her teachings and her maternal instincts, understanding that her son's choices were his own to make. However, it was easier to ignore things when the shadows around her home didn’t taunt her, despite her son’s warnings to them. Often times, she’d find him tracing symbols onto his hand during a conversation with someone, always behind his back as he spoke. She’d find small towers made of sticks her backyard sometimes, hanging around tree’s and something’s hiding in bushes. She said nothing, deciding it was his choice, but she’d always cleanse her area, and began to beg the spirits to lead her son in the right direction.

Their home, once a haven of warmth, now harbored the echoes of decisions made in pursuit of desires. Sylvie, despite disapproving of Alastor's misuse of voodoo, remained a steadfast pillar of support. For a mother's love, resilient and unconditional, transcended the boundaries of right and wrong. The tangled threads of voodoo, jazz, and maternal love wove together in the backdrop of their lives, creating a narrative of complexity and nuance.

Hallelujah

It was when Sylvie fell ill that Alastor had begun to change his ways, or partially. Becoming bedridden, Sylvie could no longer do things. Her son had grown into a well respected man, one she loved and cherished so much. But, she feared her time was coming soon and thus could no longer keep him safe anymore. He had done so well as an adult, he made something respectable out of himself. He became someone. Her biggest hope for him had come true, he had made a name for himself, left his mark on the world through radio. She was so proud of him.

In Sylvie’s final days, Alastor found himself torn between the guilt of his previous actions and the desire to make amends. The echoes of the past whispered in his ear, urging him to rectify the missteps that had strained the sacred bond between mother and son. He knew his mother disapproved of the way he used her teachings, but it wasn’t easy living in the world, fighting to make ends meet and fighting for respect.

One evening, as the dim light of a fading sunset painted Sylvie’s room, Alastor made a silent vow to honor his mother’s teachings. With a heavy heart, he delved into the mystic arts not to manipulate fate, but to seek guidance and help. The flickering candles cast dancing shadows as Alastor immersed himself in the rituals he had once misused. He had tried everything, saving money for the best medication, home remedies, having specialists see her, everything.

As Sylvie’s condition worsened, Alastor found solace in being by her side, tending to her needs with a newfound tenderness. The past haunted him, yet the present held the opportunity for redemption. In caring for his ailing mother, Alastor discovered a profound connection that transcended the barriers of time and choices made.

The world outside continued to applaud Alastor’s radio success, unaware of the internal transformation transpiring within him. Sylvie, weakened but perceptive, observed the change in her son with a quiet pride. As Sylvie lay in her bed, the fragility of life evident in her every breath, Alastor approached with a mixture of reverence and regret. The room was adorned with flickering candles, casting an ethereal glow that danced on the walls.

“Mother, I… I’ve come to seek your guidance.” Sylvie, her eyes conveying a deep understanding, nodded weakly.

“Honey, my time here is waning. But I feel a shift within you. Talk to me, what’s wrong?” She asked, tightening her grip on her son’s hand. Alastor hesitated, the weight of his past actions pressing upon him.

“I’ve used the mystic arts for my own gain, tarnished their sanctity. I’ve tried everything to help you- I… I tried so much.” He said, at a loss for words. Silent tears bordered his eyes, Sylvie, though weakened, managed a gentle smile. “I should have listened more, learned more. I should’ve been better.” He said frustrated, angry tears slipping from his eyes and down his cheeks. He looked down, skeeters fogging as he fought his tears, holding onto his mother so tight and afraid to let go. “Is this my fault?” He asked quietly.

“No, never dear.” Sylvie said shaking her head softly. “I know you tried your best. All will be okay. I taught you well, raised a good man. You will get everything you want and more in this life, I promise you.” She said weakly, coughing a bit with the tissue in her hand. Finally she calmed down, speaking again. “The world is a stage. Make it your own.” She said smiling at him, and he just chuckled. She sighed and spoke again. “Life is a tapestry, my love. We learn, we grow. I know you are hurting.” She said, placing her hand weakly on his chest, but she continued. “I know you missed out on so much. So much I tried to give you, but you turned out so wonderful, so special. You did not disappoint, and I would do it all again to love you dear.” She said, hand cradling his cheek. “Don’t stop living when I’m gone.” She said to him, and he nodded, teary eyed, holding onto her hand.

“I love you momma.” He said, smiling sadly as he cried to her. Sylvie just smiled back, tears welling in her own eyes as she held onto him. She sat up slowly, beckoning Alastor to lean closer. She placed a kiss on his forehead with shaky hands, pulling away with a smile.

“I love you too honey.” She whispered.

As Sylvie’s final breaths approached, Alastor held her hand, seeking solace in the fragile yet profound connection they had forged. The room, filled with the scent of candles and the soft strains of jazz, became a sanctuary for a son bidding farewell to his guiding light.

The final moments with Sylvie became a sacred passage, where Alastor whispered words of love and gratitude, promising to carry forward the legacy she had bestowed upon him. As the room filled with a bittersweet melody of jazz playing softly in the background, Alastor prepared to face a world without his guiding light, determined to walk a path worthy of her memory.

She cries to the heaven above

There is a stone in my heart

She lives in a world she didn't choose

And it hurts like brand new shoes

Hurts like brand new shoes

[bevanne46]

How to Build a Fabric Stash without Breaking the Bank

Fabric can be expensive but it doesn’t have to be.  If you are not stuck on Name Brands or Specialty Fabric Store Exclusives here are some ways to build your fabric stash without costing an arm and a leg. I have made many beautiful quilts using various fabrics from various supplies. And I believe that the quality is not just in the fabric you use but also in your stitch work and seams sizes. If your seams are less than a ¼” they will not hold (personally I prefer to use a ½” seam allowance). If you are not securing your thread ends, your stitch work is going to come undone. So be sure to watch these things too.

Look for fabric at your local Thrift Store (Goodwill, Value Village, etc.)

I have found some wonderful fabrics in various sizes, notions, storage items and more at my local Thrift Stores. I have even found unfinished quilt tops that I have brought home and added a backing to then quilted. Remember that almost any size fabric remnant can be added to other remnants to make some wonderful scrappy quilts so save your own remnants after making a quilt, you may be able to use it later in another quilt.

Look for local Fabric Sales held by Quilting Guilds in Your Area.

We have 2 near me every summer.One charges $2 per pound for any fabric. The second one charges $2 per yard for any fabric. Both also sell batting, notions, books, machines, tools, and more.

Look for fabric on Facebook Marketplace, Nextdoor and other sites.

I sell extra fabric on Marketplace and Nextdoor. I have also found several ladies near me selling fabric that I have purchased. And some I have purchased with shipping to me.

Look for older 100% Cotton Sheets at your local Thrift Stores.

Back in the 1800’s and early 1900’s, Quilts were not show pieces. They were real functional blankets that were made from any and all fabrics they could get, usually used clothing. I think there is no reason why we cannot still do that instead of buying expensive fabrics. I have often used clothing, sheets, curtains, and other linens to make some wonderful, usable quilts. And there are some wonderful patterns you can use for quilts in bedsheets from the 1980’s and 1990’s. Note: I always wash anything from a Thrift Store before I use it.

Watch for Fabric Sales and Coupons for Joanns, Hobby Lobby and other Fabric & Craft Stores.

I know some quilters believe that the fabric from Joanns & Hobby Lobby is poor quality but I have not found any bad fabric from these stores.  We do not have a “Quilting” store close to me and because I’m handicapped, I will not drive an hour or more just to buy expensive fabric.  If I did that, I wouldn’t be able to afford to quilt.  I will also buy fabric from Walmart but I am more careful with my selection there as most fabric at Walmart is good but I have had one or two pieces that I felt were poorer quality.

Watch for Fabric Sales and Coupons for your Local Quilt Shop.

Quilt shops will also have occasional sales and/or coupons so if you prefer to shop at these locations take notice of when they have sales. Also ask if they ever give discounts to seniors or military.

Use New or Older Clothing.

I have made a lot of beautiful Memorial Quilts from a loved one’s clothing and T-Shirt quilts. I will use jeans, work shirts, uniforms, flannel, cotton, polyester and even some knits.  These can be a little trickier to work with because they are often stretchy fabrics but they will add a wonderful texture and visual variance to your quilts.  I recently found a pair of cotton pants with Mickey Mouse on them. I fell in love with them because they were so colorful, and I love bold colors. I found several other cotton fabrics that matched the colors in the Mickey pants and made a bold colorful quilt!

Rethink Your Backing Fabric

No one ever said your quilt backing had to be all New Cotton. You can use Fleece, Flannel or Bed Sheets as well. On many occasions I have found some wonderful fleece blankets on clearance and used these for my quilt backing.  Joanns right now has a great clearance sale on Flannel fabric. The best part about using some of these is that you can get then in a wider width so you may be able to make your backing in all one piece instead of 2 or more like when using regular cotton (unless you want your backing to be in various colors/patterns).  You can also use new or older cotton bed sheets for a quilt backing. Again, you can make your quilt backing in one solid piece with a sheet!

Check the Clearance Section for Your Favorite On-Line Stores

I have several on-lines stores that I love to shop from (e-Quilter, Missouri Star, etc.) but sometimes they can be expensive so I always check the clearance section of these stores. There are times I will find some beautiful fabrics on clearance so will purchase it then look for matching piece everywhere else so I can get the best deals. Also check for on-line sales from Joanns, Hobby Lobby and other on-lines stores that sell fabric and/or sheets.

Check Out Your Local Garage, Moving and Estate Sales

I have found some of the best deals at moving and estate sales because often the seller is willing to bargain with you. I once found an estate sale where a family was selling off all their mother’s quilting and sewing items because she had passed away and none of then sewed. There was more fabric and notions than I would have used in a year so I found lots of thread and items I purchased at a great price.

Note on Batting

I know that many quilters believe that the only batting you should use is expensive cotton batting. I disagree.  There are many forms of batting. Cotton/Poly blends, Polyester, and Fleece. I love cotton batting but cotton will break down quicker than polyester and I want my quilts to last a lifetime so for most of my quilts I actually use Polyester more often than not. I have taken the backing off many older quilts to do repair work and the cotton batting inside was all balled up and a real mess.

Now when I am doing the Quilt-as-you-Go method I use a Fleece batting. The fleece can be cut into smaller pieces, fabric added to the top and then sewn back together to make wonderful quilts. And the batting doesn’t get stuck in my machine.

Shop Around for your batting to find the best deals. Sometimes Joanns has a sale on batting but the best price I have found so far has been Walmart on-line.  I can buy a 96” x 9 yard Bolt of Poly Batting for just $30 on Walmart on-line. This bolt will make 4+ quilts depending on the size of the quilt and I will have lots of left overs for smaller projects like pillows, etc.  For me the best part is that because it’s 96” wide, I don’t have to piece together my batting before I can sandwich my quilt!