#Caro Fraser

[bella-but-not-hadid444]

i’m reading this book, The Summer House Party by Caro Fraser on holiday (picked it up in a charity shop for 50p purely based on the cover and blurb alone) and tbh it’s not bad. it’s basically a slow burn romance between dan ranscombe and meg slater (latimer) who married a guy she doesn’t particularly love. it’s sorta slow and i have to force myself to read it, but it’s enjoyable nonetheless. i really hope they get together in the end. it’s set in the 1930s so it’s really interesting how different classes and people acted and went about their lives back then. plus how it affected their interpersonal relationships. i’m actually gonna start crying if meg and dan don’t get married. also i think paul is gayyyy as fuck but homophobic cuz he’s scared. thank god there’s sex scenes to keep me reading, i share a room with my family so i like to have my own secret pleasures while on holiday via books hehe

[j-august]

Antonia Fraser, Lady Caroline Lamb

[the-al-chemist]

The Beginning of a Symphony - Chapter 36

A/N: the night of the ball has finally arrived, and Ophelia is determined to make the most of this opportunity.

Warnings: Ophelia’s usual antics, plus fake-dating trope gone wrong.

OCs featured/mentioned: Carolyn Nyberg, Selene Fraser, Alan the ferret and Henry Lovecraft @lifeofkaze, Bradford Pendleton, Ivy Anders, Oliver Gerard and Eliot Gerard @kc-and-co, Adelia Selwyn @thatravenpuffwitch, Marigold Sterling and Cledwyn Ironwood @that-scouse-wizard, Victoria Summer @whatwouldvalerydo, Primrose Gray @endlessly-cursed, William Devlin and Maxwell Pembroke @unfortunate-arrow, Lydia Ellis @mjs-oc-corner

May 1897

The night of the Celestial Ball had arrived at last, and it was everything Ophelia had dreamed it would be. The Great Hall had been transformed into a grand ballroom, with the tables vanished to make enough space for people to dance, and a large obelisk in the very middle. Even the enchanted ceiling appeared more star-filled than usual, as if the very sky knew that this night was going to be one where something magical might happen.

Ophelia observed the scene from one of the seats that lined the walls of the Great Hall. Carolyn, Adelia, and Marigold were all on the dancefloor; Caro with Bradford Pendleton, Adelia with Teddy Ellison, and Marigold with Lydia Ellis. All three of them looked beautiful in their dress robes, and were the very pictures of poise and grace as they danced with their suitors.

The Slytherins were not the only ones who were looking and dancing exquisitely. Hufflepuff’s Ivy Anders flashed Ophelia a wide and friendly smile as she paraded past on the arm of Maxwell Pembroke, while Gryffindor’s Oliver Gerard and Victoria Summer appeared to be saving their smiles for each other. Primrose Grey from Ravenclaw was among the best dressed, smiling as she danced with her fiancé William Devlin. Ophelia felt a pang of jealousy. It was not fair, really. Primrose’s parents had picked out a wealthy suitor for her as a child, and she did not even need one. She clearly had enough money for pretty dresses and dance lessons without one.

As for Ophelia herself, she had managed to magically alter the dress her mother had bought her for birthday so it looked brand new and far fancier and more fashionable than it was in reality. She had arranged her newly blonde hair very prettily and applied a subtle amount of Marigold’s rouge to her cheeks in order to accentuate her newly green eyes. But as of yet, no one had asked her to dance with them.

It was peculiar; she looked as close to being beautiful as she ever would, and the stage had been set perfectly for her to showcase that, but somehow, she still found herself waiting in the wings. She had so many potential leading men, but she had yet to become a leading lady. Sitting to the side of the dance floor next to the wall, she may not have even been part of the ensemble. No, she was merely a piece of the scenery.

She was trying to act as if nothing was vexing her - after all, no gentleman would want to dance with a lady who did not smile nicely - but she was finding it increasingly difficult to not show how disappointed she was by this turn of events. Still, she was able to force a smile as Carolyn approached her, Bradford at her side, the two of them having retired from the dancefloor.

“Ophelia, are you not dancing?” Caro asked her, and Ophelia shook her head. “Why, has no one yet asked you?”

“No, sadly not.”

“Now, that simply will not do. You must have a dance,” said Brady. Ophelia looked at him hopefully, but his eyes had started to scan the dancefloor. “I’m certain that we can find someone to dance with you. Let’s see… Ah, just the person. Jim, old bean!”

At the sound of his name being called out, Jim Hexley walked towards the group. When he reached them, Brady etched around to clap him on the back.

“Jim, my friend, we have a young lady who wishes to dance and has no partner to dance with, and I see that you appear to have misplaced your dance partner.”

“Oh, well, I… I have not misplaced her. That is to say, I am quite certain of where she is. Over there, look.” Jim pointed in the direction of the refreshment table, where his twin sister Ethel was drinking pumpkinade with her own dance partner, Cledwyn Ironwood. On her other side, Selene Fraser was intently listening to something that Eliot Gerard was telling her.

“I take no joy in being the man to deliver this news to you, old chap, but it would appear that there are three of you in this partnership.”

“Yes, but then that… that has been the case since the beginning of the evening.”

As Jim spoke, the small, minky-furred body of a ferret climbed up over Selene’s shoulder and came to rest there, a small bow tie tied around its neck. Brady guffawed, Jim chuckled, and even Carolyn’s lips twitched a little.

“So, what do you say, Jim?” Brady asked, once he had finished laughing. “Fancy a turn about the room with Miss Burke here?”

Jim cleared his throat before nodding his head. “Uh, yes. Of course. It would be my pleasure. An honour. I… Ophelia, would you like to dance?”

Ophelia considered the offer. Jim Hexley was not the sort of wizard she had hoped to dance with. He was a decent enough fellow, but not at all wealthy. Still, one had to start somewhere, and everyone knew that a gentleman showing interest in a woman was sure to garner the interest of other men. So, she took Jim’s proffered hand and accompanied him to the dancefloor, where the couples had just begun to dance along to the polka music being played by an unmanned orchestra.

“I am afraid that I… I am not the best dancer,” Jim apologised. “Ethel and Selene did teach me - or attempted to teach me, I should say - but their efforts, I fear, have been in vain.”

“Do you think that is why Miss Fraser has set her sights on Eliot Gerard?” Ophelia asked. Jim shook his head. His face looked somewhat saddened. “Are you upset by this snub?”

“No. Not at all,” Jim almost smiled. “Selene and I are just friends. Perhaps more like family, with how close she and my sister are.”

“Then why do you seem downhearted?”

“It is nothing. I mean, I am not. I… Well, I had wished to accompany someone else tonight. I am sorry.”

“That is very well. I had wished to accompany someone else, as well.”

“Really? Who?”

“No one in particular. Just someone of status.”

“I see,” Jim nodded slowly, frowning. “I feel that I must be a disappointment.”

“It is better than dancing with no one at all, is it not?” Ophelia asked him.

“I am not certain that I agree. I… It seems to me that the more dances one has with others, the more one misses the company of the one they truly wish to dance with.”

“Well, maybe if the one you wish to dance with sees you dancing with another, she will find herself wishing that it was her you were dancing with and miss you in return.”

Jim looked thoughtful. “That is what my sister said. But so far, Héloïse has barely looked at me.”

“Does she know that you and Selene are only friends, and that Selene has also been accompanied by her ferret?”

“I… I do believe that she does.”

“Then perhaps this is why your sister’s plan has not worked. Say, I have an idea,” said Ophelia, suddenly feeling hopeful again. “A ruse, one which will allow us to help one another. If we each appear to be enjoying the other’s company as we dance, then other wizards shall wish to dance with me, and… Héloïse, did you say? Perhaps Héloïse will take notice of you at last. What say you?”

“It is as good a plan as any, I suppose,” Jim sighed. “How… How should I act towards you.”

“You may start by smiling,” Ophelia told him, and Jim laughed quietly to himself. “See? You are doing quite well already.”

They smiled at one another as they danced, barely talking. Jim did not seem to want to talk much, seeming to be too preoccupied with counting his steps to attempt to hold a conversation. Eventually, though, he asked her:

“Is it working? The ruse?”

“I think it is, yes,” Ophelia said. She looked around her at the boys at the edges of the hall. Several were looking at her, including Henry Lovecraft, who was watching the scene with the little dark-haired, dark-eyed girl at his side. “Héloïse is looking at us.”

“She is?” Jim’s eyes brightened. He cleared his throat. “Is she… What is she doing?”

“At present she is talking with Henry Lovecraft.”

“Ah.”

“He is putting an arm around her shoulders.”

“Oh.”

“I do believe that he is attempting to comfort her,” Ophelia informed Jim, watching as Héloïse took a deep breath and blinked rapidly. “Yes, she looks quite upset.”

“What? Is she-”

“No, don’t look, you’ll ruin the ruse,” said Ophelia. “It is working, is it not?” Jim nodded, but he looked doubtful. Ophelia turned her attention back to Héloïse and Henry Lovecraft. “She is sad, but Henry is saying something to her. She is shaking her head, and has stepped away from him.”

“She has?”

“Yes, but he’s taken hold of her hand. Oh, but she’s taken her hand back. She’s taken another step away from him. She… Oh.”

“What?” Jim asked urgently. “What is she doing?”

“I do not know,” said Ophelia. “She has left. She ran that way.” She pointed in the direction of the main doors out of the hall, and Jim turned his head to look, his lips parting and his arms falling to his sides. Ophelia sighed. “You should go after her.”

“Are you… You do not mind my leaving?”

“Of course not. The ruse has served its purpose.”

Jim bowed his head to her, and she curtsied back. And with that they parted ways, their ruse over. And it had worked. For as Jim rushed out of the Great Hall, Ophelia returned to her seat by the wall with more eyes on her than ever, knowing fully well that this time, she would not remain a wallflower for long.

[lifeofkaze]

☕️ and 🌙 for the October asks please?! 🧡

☕ coffee or tea: describe your OC’s favorite place to relax

Selene is the calmest - "calmest" - when she's out and about wandering the Highlands surrounding Fraser Hall.

Caro finds her relaxation in equal measures behind a bubbling cauldron - the more complex the potion the better - or in the most expensive boutiques the Wizarding Shopping Streets of Europe have to offer.

Henry, my beloved spirit animal, loves himself a calm and quiet and ABANDONED library.

🌙 moon: do any of your OCs have dark backstories or secrets they’re trying to keep?

The story of how Caro's eldest sister Alyssa was disfigured isn't exactly a secret but Caro isn't too keen to present it to the public either.

Ava's story is dark and twisted and heartbreaking and still prone to revelation to anyone but you and me.

The darkest secret any of my OCs harbours has got to be Dylan's. In the deepest darkest hour of the night, where no one can listen but the stars above and the dead underground, he would maybe - begrudgingly - admit that sometimes, under the right circumstances and with all the grace in his heart he has to offer... Rory McTavish isn't actually that bad.

[convenientalias]

Y’all I got the final queer book I bought in the mail! Judicial Whispers by Caro Fraser, second in the Caper Court series.

I’m pretty confident I’ll like this one bc I liked the first book (The Pupil). It’s like... lawyer drama with lots of interpersonal drama mixed in. Last book was about the adventures of the intern having a sexuality crisis and a financial crisis at the same time, this one is apparently more about his bisexual silver fox coworker. So it should be fun. By the way, if anyone wants to join me in reading this series, I would be happy bc I want to write fanfic and shit.

Anyways. I was gonna crop this photo but I thought it was kind of funny that you can see my suitcase in the background. Pajamas, queer Shakespeare retelling, and all--I’m heading into spring break and I intend to do basically nothing.

[mermaidsirennikita]

a) why do Lord John and Brianna stand thisclose to each other when they’re talking

b) why do I look at them and hear Shawn Mendes’s Treat You Better playing in the distance???

[lifeofkaze]

Omfg it’s looking absolutely fantastic. Definitely rethinking my resolution not to play it!

Hogwarts Legacy - Official Reveal Trailer | PS5

[italianoutlanders]

#Repost from @aurora.disegna . “Quando il mio corpo morirà, la mia anima rimarrà tua, niente si perde Sassenach, cambia solamente.” Perché l’amore supera ogni confine, ogni Craigh Na Dun. Valica ogni spazio temporale e va oltre ogni secolo... Viaggia attraverso i confini del tempo ma non cessa mai d’esistere.
L’amore, il vero amore, è un sentimento assoluto che unisce per l’eternità, supera le difficoltà più grandi ed è fatto di così tanta forza da vincere ogni guerra...

Caro James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser, grazie per le sue frasi d’altri tempi. • #outlander #outlanderfans #serietv #outlanderseries #jamesfraser #clairefraser #jamesandclaire #love #loveunconditionally #loveislove #lovedrawing #loveyourlife #loveyourjob #art #artoftheday #illustration #illustrationseries #illustrationartist #illustrationoftheday #illustrator #italianillustrator #digitalart #digitalillustration #digitalpainting #drawing #digitaldrawing #procreate #auroradisegna https://www.instagram.com/p/CPgns8yByN0/?utm_medium=tumblr

[the-literata-letters]

reading list - 900: history & geography

CLICK HERE TO ACCESS MY OTHER READING LISTS.

✵ ACTIVELY UPDATING ✵

☐  901: FOUCAULT, Michel – Les mots et les choses ☐  901: GOULD, Stephen Jay – Questioning the Millenium ☐  901: McNEILL, William H. – The Rise of the West ☐  902: WEIR, Stephen – Encyclopedia Idiotica ☐  907: JONNES, Jill – Eiffel's Tower ☐  909: HARARI, Yuval Noah – Homo Deus ☐  909: ROGAN, Eugene – The Arabs ☐  909: TOYNBEE, Arnold J. – A Study of History ☐  910: POOLE, Robert M. – Explorers House ☐  911: BROTTON, Jerry – A History of the World in 12 Maps ☐  914: SHANAHAN, Brendan – In Turkey I Am Beautiful ☐  914: WEST, Rebecca – Black Lamb and Grey Falcon ☐  915: FLETCHER, David – Brian on the Brahmaputra ☐  918: SIMONS, Eric – Darwin Slept Here ☐  919: KAVENNA, Joanna – The Ice Museum ☐  920: COLLINS, Paul – Banvard's Folly ☐  920: STRACHEY, Lytton – Eminent Victorians ☐  933: PEROWNE, Stuart – The Life & Times of Herod the Great ☐  936: TACITUS – Agricola ☐  937: BEARD, Mary – SPQR: A History of Ancient Rome ☐  937: SUETONIUS – De vita Caesarum ☐  937: TACITUS, Publius Cornelius – Annals ☐  938: McKEOWN, J. C. – A Cabinet of Greek Curiosities ☐  938: THUCYDIDES – History of the Peloponnesian War ☐  939: CLAPP, Nicholas – The Road to Ubar ☐  940: CHURCHILL, Winston – The Second World War ☐  940: MARKS, Leo – Between Silk and Cyanide ☐  940: TUCHMAN, Barbara – The Guns of August ☐  942: FRASER, Antonia – Faith and Treason ☐  943: HETT, Benjamin Carter – Burning the Reichstag ☐  946: ORWELL, George – Homage to Catalonia ☐  946: SHRADY, Nicholas – The Last Day ☐  949: ROSEN, William – Justinian's Flea ☐  951: SCHELL, Orville & DELURY, John – Wealth and Power ☐  951: SPENCE, Jonathan D. – The Gate of Heavenly Peace ☐  955: AXWORTHY, Michael – Revolutionary Iran ☐  956: ROBERTS, Jo – Contested Land, Contested Memory ☐  960: MEREDITH, Martin – The Fate of Africa ☐  966: De VILLIERS, Marq & HIRTLE, Sheila – Timbuktu ☐  967: DINESEN, Isak – Out of Africa ☐  970: KING, Thomas – The Inconvenient Indian ☐  971: HELE, Karl S. – The Nature of Empires and the Empires of Nature ☐  972: GLASSMAN, Steve & ANAYA, Armando – Cities of the Maya in Seven Epochs ☐  973: CUMMINGS, Joseph – Ten Tea Parties ☐  973: DUBOIS, W. E. B. – The Souls of Black Folk ☐  973: FOOTE, Shelby – The Civil War ☐  973: HOFSTADTER, Richard – The American Political Tradition and the Men Who Made It ☐  973: McPHERSON, James M. – Battle Cry of Freedom ☐  973: TURNER, Frederick Jackson – The Frontier in American History ☐  973: WILLIAMS, William Carlos – In the American Grain ☐  974: CARO, Robert A. – The Power Broker ☐  974: SHORTO, Russell – The Island at the Center of the World ☐  978: DRURY, Bob & CLAVIN, TOm – The Heart of Everything That Is ☐  981: LÉVI-STRAUSS, Claude – Tristes Tropiques ☐  985: ADAMS, Mark – Turn Right at Machu Picchu ☐  996: ALEXANDER, Caroline – The Bounty ☐  998: MULVANEY, Kieran – At the Ends of the Earth ☐  999: LEMONICK, Michael D. – Other Worlds

BIOGRAPHY

☐  ADAMS, Henry Brooks – The Education of Henry Adams ☐  ANGELOU, Maya – I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings ☐  BASCOM, Tom – Chameleon Days ☐  BATE, Walter Jackson – Samuel Johnson ☐  BETANCOURT, Ingrid – Even Silence Has an End ☐  BOYD, Julia – The Excellent Doctor Blackwell ☐  CAMPBELL, Olivia – Women in White Coats ☐  CHANG, Jung – Wild Swans ☐  CHENEY, Margaret – Tesla ☐  EVERITT, Anthony – Cicero ☐  FRANK, Anne – The Diary of a Young Girl ☐  FRANKLIN, Benjamin – The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin ☐  GILMOUR, David – Curzon ☐  GOWING, Lawrence – Vermeer ☐  HACKEL, Steven W. – Junipero Serra ☐  ISAACSON, Walter – The Code Breaker ☐  JAGER, Eric – Blood Royal ☐  JOHNSON, Paul – Mozart ☐  KALANITHI, Paul – When Breath Becomes Air ☐  KAPLAN, Fred – Thomas Carlyle ☐  KAY, Adam – This Is Going to Hurt ☐  LEKUTON, Joseph Lemosolai – Facing the Lion ☐  LEVI, Primo – Se questo è un uomo ☐  LOFTIS, Larry – The Princess Spy ☐  MALCOLM X – The Autobiography of Malcolm X ☐  MAN, John – Attila ☐  MAN, John – Gutenberg ☐  MARCHANT, Jo – The Shadow King ☐  MARKHAM, Beryl – West With the Night ☐  MEYER, G. J. – The Borgias ☐  MILTON, Giles – Samurai William ☐  MUKHERJEE, Siddhartha – The Emperor of All Maladies ☐  NABOKOV, Vladimir Vladimirovich – Insomniac Dreams ☐  NABOKOV, Vladimir Vladimirovich– Speak, Memory ☐  NIMURA, Janice P. – The Doctors Blackwell ☐  OLSZEWSKI, Erin Marie – Undercover Epicenter Nurse ☐  PARKER, Richard – The Improbable Return of Coco Chanel ☐  PAUSCH, Randy & ZASLOW, Jeffrey – The Last Lecture ☐  RANDALL, Margaret – Che on My Mind ☐  SCHILLACE, Brandy – Mr. Humble and Dr. Butcher ☐  SINCLAIR, David – The Land That Never Was ☐  SKLOOT, Rebecca – The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks ☐  STEINEM, Gloria – Marilyn ☐  TWAIN, Mark – The Autobiography of Mark Twain ☐  WALLS, Jeannette – The Glass Castle ☐  WASHINGTON, Booker T. – Up From Slavery ☐  WEATHERFORD, Jack – Genghis Khan ☐  WELSH, Mary Sue – One Woman in a Hundred ☐  WESTOVER, Tara – Educated ☐  WHITAKER, Robert – The Mapmaker's Wife ☐  WOLFF, Tobias – This Boy's Life ☐  WOODHAM-SMITH, Cecil – Florence Nightingale ☐  WRIGHT, Richard – Black Boy ☐  XUE, Xinran – Sky Burial

[doctorlissa]

@consiglierelorenzo

- Muy bien, mi hijo! - elogiou, com um sorriso largo desenhando-se nos lábios cheios, uma Elissa que pela primeira vez sequer precisara intervir na escovação dos dentes de Owen. O garotinho, de pouco mais de três anos, aos poucos conquistava independência sobre o próprio corpo, assim, pequenos elogios as suas pequenas grandes realizações faziam parte da rotina de mãe e filho. O sorriso largo da criança, mostrando os dentinhos, aquecia o coração de Thorne, e eram justamente momentos simples como aquele que faziam valer a pena o trabalho árduo que a maternidade exigia. Mães nunca tinham folga como ela bem experimentava naquele dia em que não precisaria comparecer ao St. Mungus. - Pode ir cumprimentar seu tio, mi vida.  - completou o acompanhando para fora do banheiro, de onde Owen saiu em disparada, para usufruir da companhia de Lorenzo ou tio Renzo como ele mesmo dizia. Seu primo, assim como seu avô e os tios paternos de Owen, eram as referências masculinas na vida da criança. Por mais que assumisse toda a responsabilidade pela criação, não era o suficiente para em Owen apagar a ausência de um pai. Aos três anos, frequentando a pré-escola, havia se tornado comum que ele questionasse o porquê ao contrário da maioria das outras crianças não possuía um pai presente. Era por conta dos constantes questionamentos que, para suprir anseios e ajustar-se a compreensão infantil, precisara agir de uma maneira que muito pouco apreciava: mentindo. A mentira em questão era a mais inocente possível; dizia que Theodore havia se tornado um pontinho luminoso no céu e que de lá cuidava do filho. Mierda, pensava toda vez ciente que muito provavelmente não receberia qualquer ajuda eficiente do falecido. Além da falácia contada mantinha uma única foto do Fraser acariciando sua barriga a cabeceira da cama de Owen - e odiava tal foto pois à época Theodore praticamente a enlouquecia com tentativas de controle. Entretanto, apesar de toda sua experiência traumática com o ex-namorado, entendia que não poderia deixar que sua experiência refletisse na de Owen com a memória do pai - que o universo fora bondoso em permitir que não conhecesse. Ainda que vez ou outra se perguntasse como seria a vida de ambos se Theodore não tivesse morrido em circunstâncias inexplicáveis, para dizer o mínimo, estava grata por não precisar se preocupar com o inferno no qual ele transformaria sua vida. - Guapo, olá, espero que não tenha trazido mais um dos seus presentes caros! Tudo bem que não ganho mal, mas não tenho qualquer condição de me equiparar ao seu poder aquisitivo para agradar! - o comentário apesar de assertivo não carregava qualquer crítica real ao primo e muito menos aos meios pelo qual Lorenzo formara a própria fortuna. Por opção sua, e sobretudo pela discrição do mais velho, preferia saber pouco sobre o que ele fazia para ganhar a vida, especialmente quando possuía a constante impressão de que em nada gostaria dos detalhes. - Se estragar o garoto o tornando um grande mimado eu juro que só deixo a Itália depois de fazer picadinho de você. - brincou assim que posicionou-se a frente do mais velho. O sorriso voltou a desenhar-se em seus lábios e expressava seu contentamento sempre que encontrava-se diante de seus parentes paternos. - Déjame saludarte como es debido. - expressou uma vez que apenas abrira a porta para que ele entrasse antes que voltasse ao banheiro para acompanhar Owen. Com fluidez a ex-corvina colocou-se nas pontas dos pés para beijá-lo tenramente nas duas bochecha, único lugar que sua baixa estatura permitia que alcançasse sem maiores dificuldades. Ao afastar-se procurou por Owen que já estava entretido com seus brinquedos e, entre os dados por Lorenzo, encontravam-se os de madeiras feitos por Malcolm, outro que precisaria fazer picadinho se mimasse demais a criança. - Ainda é cedo, mas, como de costume você já me parece um pouquinho agotado. - comentou, o mais despretensiosamente possível, ao dar a volta no balcão americano que separava sala e cozinha e onde o café da manhã seguia posto. - Servido? - ofereceu, educadamente, enquanto com um acenar de varinha colocava a louça já usada na pia. Em seus dias em casa a magia quebrava todos os galhos possíveis, caso contrário as folgas seriam tão estressantes quanto seu ritmo de trabalho. Embora o St. Mungus estivesse menos caótico pelas últimas semanas o clima no mundo bruxo seguia tenso, como se o perigo estivesse constantemente a espreita. - Por cierto, sem delonga, você está bem, guapo? Há algo consumindo seus neurônios renascentistas? - um sorriso breve, afetuoso, formou-se em seus lábios assim que sentou-se de frente para o primo. Embora não tivessem crescido próximos, por conta da distância geográfica, a conex��o que formaram durante os últimos anos a fazia acreditar que conseguia ler alguns dos sinais que transpareciam nas feições bonitas e taciturnas de Lorenzo. - Saudade de casa? Não me leve a mal, é bom tê-lo, apesar dos seus ocasionais exageros de segurança,… - enquanto se pronunciava o encarava com uma das sobrancelhas arqueadas, o que, junto a entonação em sua voz, deixava claro que detestava a segurança por mais que soubesse que ao menos para Owen era válida. - … por perto. Mas, bien, você nunca fica por muito tempo. Nem Ravi. Há algo que desconheço acontecendo? Pode e quer falar a respeito? - e caso ele não pudesse falar a respeito saberia que eram raras as chances de ser algo dentro da legalidade, o que instigaria sua preocupação com o mais velho mesmo ciente que ele sabia melhor que ninguém como se cuidar.

[jgmail]

NUESTRA GUERRA EPISTEMOLÓGICA (actualización)

Por Alexander Dugin

Traducción de Juan Gabriel Caro Rivera

 Un amigo académico italiano me envió unas notas extremadamente importantes sobre cómo el sistema educativo global aplica la censura, el desplazamiento y la cultura de la cancelación en el campo filosófico.

 Aquí está el contenido de sus muy precisas observaciones. En el sistema globalista cient��fico y educativo moderno (es decir, que afecta tanto a los países de Occidente como a los países del Oriente), las siguientes tendencias se pueden rastrear sin ambigüedades en las últimas tres décadas y están cobrando gran impulso:

 ·         Censurar (denunciar, cancelar) a Hegel a favor de la promoción de Schopenhauer;

·         Censurar (denunciar, cancelar) la lingüística científico-histórica (F. de Saussure, J. Devoto) y promover la lingüística analítica (Russell, Chomsky, Kim);

·         La subordinación de la filosofía a una disciplina que surgió no hace mucho, la psicología individual, con su enfoque analítico y una estricta censura (desplazamiento, anulación) de todo lo que va más allá de su alcance;

·         Censurar (denunciar, cancelar) el platonismo político;

·         Censurar (denunciar, cancelar) el empirismo y el dominio absoluto del racionalismo;

·         Censurar todo tipo de idealismo e historicismo que estarán sujetos a una dura prueba editorial;

·         Censurar (denunciar, cancelar) la semiótica, la epistemología y la imposición de la filosofía analítica y sus epistemologías psicológicas a partir de ellas, hacerlas inéditas para el ámbito humano;

·         Censurar (denunciar, cancelar) la lógica dialéctica y la promoción exclusiva de la lógica biunívoca;

·         Marginación y exclusión de cualquier apelación a la sociología positiva (Fraser, Weber, Durkheim, Simmel, De Martino, Eliade) y promoción agresiva de la medicalización, de la psicologización del pensamiento (en el centro de la cual está el individuo puro);

·         La única ciencia reconocida del hombre permitida por el sistema es la "antropología cultural" (a-estructural y a-histórica);

·         Censurar (denunciar, cancelar) y desmantelar todo estructuralismo, historicismo y negar cualquier fenomenología del pensamiento y su dependencia de los aspectos históricos y sociales.

·         El avance de la epistemología de la psicología analítica a-histórica y a-estructural: una filosofía editada en esta línea está obligada a subordinarse como una sirvienta (como en la Edad Media la filosofía era considerada un “sirvienta de la teología” - philosophia ancilla theologiae);

·         Censurar (denunciar, cancelar) la fenomenología;

·         Censurar (denunciar, cancelar) la correspondencia entre la evolución del pensamiento y la historia del arte, por un lado, y las diferentes culturas y sus geografías, teniendo en cuenta su formación, por el otro;

·         Imposición radical autoritaria de modelos basados ​​en la psicologización a-histórica y a-estructural en todas las formas de cultura y sociedad con la filosofía subordinada como su sirvienta, junto a un exilio totalitario y censura estricta de todos los disidentes y deslegitimación inmediata de cualquier punto de vista alternativo (enfoque puramente totalitario);

·         Censurar (denunciar, cancelar) todas las posibles correlaciones entre ideas, historias, estructuras sociales, espacios geográficos y temporalidad histórica (sólo se puede permitir en casos excepcionales si el concepto de individuo está en el centro dentro de este marco de la filosofía analítica).

 Ésta es una descripción increíblemente precisa de la esencia totalitaria de la epistemología liberal globalista. Reconozco en esta lista - por supuesto en la parte censurada - todos mis libros, conferencias, textos, cursos y conferencias. En más de 60 libros que he escrito, he defendido y desarrollado consistentemente:

 ·         El "idealismo" tradicionalista - hiper-idealismo que culmina en la teoría del Sujeto Radical;

·         El platonismo político y todas sus posibles aplicaciones;

·         El estructuralismo de todo tipo y género (desde Saussure, propiamente dicho, Trubetskoy y Jacobson hasta Lévi-Strauss, Ricoeur, Dumézil e incluso Foucault y Lacan);

·         La independencia de la filosofía de la psicología pervertida individualista y materialista (incluyendo la analítica, bi-conductista y cognitivista) con la defensa paralela de la psicología fenomenológica y la psicología de las profundidades (con especial atención a Gilbert Durand);

·         La semiótica y la semántica (V. Propp, A. Greimas)

·         La sociología de Durkheim, Simmel, Scheler y Sombart (con un enfoque particular en Louis Dumont y un énfasis en la sociología de la imaginación y la etnosociología);

·         La lógica dialéctica basada en un enfoque retórico de la conciencia;

·         La fenomenología aplicada a la más amplia gama posible de campos y temas científicos: culturas, pueblos, sociedades, civilizaciones; análisis comparativo (anti-jerárquico) de las civilizaciones, reconociendo el pluralismo de sus ontologías, "espacios" y temporalidades.

 También quiero enfatizar la necesidad de:

 ·         La defensa radical y el escrutinio de Heidegger (a quien odia la episteme globalista contemporánea);

·         Una reevaluación positiva adecuada de Aristóteles, leída principalmente en una perspectiva fenomenológica (la cancelación de Aristóteles comenzó en los albores de los tiempos modernos, fue renovada por Popper y hoy se supone que está siendo completada);

·         La protección de todo tipo de neoplatonismo desde Plotino y Proclo hasta los Dionisos Areopagita, Juan Escoto Eriugena, Dietrich von Freiberg, Eckhart y otros místicos renacentistas, Paracelso, Boehme y la filosofía religiosa rusa (sofiología - Soloviev, Florensky, Bulgakov);

·         La geopolítica euroasiática (la naturaleza primordial de la estructura es el elemento de la Tierra en la interpretación de C. Schmitt y teniendo en cuenta su influencia en el estructuralismo de N.S. Trubetskoy);

·         La rehabilitación de las teologías y religiones sagradas tradicionales, incluida la confianza absoluta en sus epistemologías contra el ateísmo y el materialismo.

 Naturalmente, rechazo categóricamente la filosofía analítica y el positivismo racional y considero el materialismo, el individualismo y su enfoque analítico de la conciencia como formas de una enfermedad mental. Al mismo tiempo, descarto la filosofía analítica como un malentendido, si hablamos de algo "obligatorio", con libre consideración, algo que proviene del pragmatismo americano, con su total indiferencia ante la prescripción tanto del sujeto como del objeto, puede resultar como algo divertido. En general, todo lo que sea opcional y esté libre del totalitarismo globalista y la hegemonía epistemológica de los liberales puede ser digno de investigación. Incluso, Dios me perdone, Russell.

 Son estos temas los que son objeto de la censura globalista - en relación con las escuelas, teorías, métodos, direcciones, orientaciones a las que están dedicadas casi todas mis obras - todos los volúmenes de Noomajía, todas las obras filosóficas, libros y libros de texto sobre sociología, estudios culturales, antropología, etnología y política. Resulta que tomé prestado de forma natural, ¡sin querer! - en este conflicto epistemológico, no sólo una de estas posiciones, sino una posición que une en sí misma, en cierto sentido, todo lo que se opone al paradigma epistemológico de la globalización liberal.

 Creo que esto es suficiente para entender por qué los diseñadores y agentes de esta censura epistemológica me llaman "el filósofo más peligroso del mundo". Y esto explica a la perfección todas las formas de anulación, denuncia, censura, satanización, marginación, caricaturización, criminalización en mi contra, con las que llevo más de 30 años lidiando.

 Amazon se niega a distribuir mis libros. Youtube no muestra mis videos. Twitter no transmite mis comentarios. Incluso Google me negó el derecho a usar el correo, que es el derecho de miles de millones de personas. Y, en general, todo esto me lo merezco: estoy del otro lado de las barricadas, y en el punto desde donde se ve toda la estructura de nuestra línea de defensa: desde la teología, el idealismo, la metafísica, el tradicionalismo hasta la sociología, la antropología, la fenomenología, el estructuralismo, el existencialismo, el psicoanálisis y la deconstrucción. Es, en cierto sentido, el puesto de mando de nuestro ejército epistemológico que libra una lucha mortal contra el mundo moderno. En este punto, no estoy solo. Pero no somos tantos de este lado. Casi nadie. Pero todavía algunos, sí es que los hay. Y esto solo inspira esperanza. Sí, aunque solo sea uno, no puedes retirarte. No es digno de un ser con un pensamiento libre el rendirse ante la presión de una mentira totalitaria. No importa lo poderosa que sea. No perdimos ante el totalitarismo soviético. También derrotaremos al totalitarismo liberal.

 Eso es la guerra epistemológica.

Los globalistas definitivamente perderán. Su sistema educativo debe ser completamente derrocado y destruido. Promueven un veneno mental puro. Es curioso que podamos reconocer fácilmente todas las mismas cosas no solo en Occidente, sino también en Rusia e incluso en China. Esta es una verdadera estructura de ocupación mental. Nuestras universidades, institutos e incluso escuelas están ocupadas por un enemigo ideológico, por portadores conscientes y, con frecuencia, inconscientes de la ideología totalitaria intolerante más severa.

Alguien actúa deliberadamente, promoviendo la filosofía analítica y denunciando a todos los disidentes, acusándolos de cualquier cosa, desde el esencialismo hasta el "fascismo" (esto afecta a los muy estúpidos). Las feministas liberales han añadido a esto la "masculinidad tóxica" que se encuentra en todas partes, mientras que los pervertidos luchan contra la "homofobia". Pero los representantes conscientes de la Gestapo liberal son minoría. Muchos más científicos y educadores se están saturando gradualmente con el veneno de esta estructura epistemológica totalitaria, a través de subvenciones, invitaciones indirectas, conferencias, publicaciones, etc.

Y al resto, y sobre todo los desafortunados estudiantes y escolares, se les saturo con esto defecto, como si nada más pudiera ser verdad.

 Pero no basta con criticar la realidad del terror liberal que nos rodea. Debemos rebelarnos, resistir, combatir y luchar por cada milímetro de espacio epistemológico. Nuestra soberanía epistemológica depende de ello.

 De qué sirve defender la soberanía de la forma, si perdemos la soberanía del contenido, es decir, perdemos la identidad, el espíritu, la cultura, la conciencia, la razón, dejándolos a merced de los fanáticos liberales globalistas.

 Debemos librar nuestra guerra epistemológica. Y el librarla ya es una victoria.

[talkingismylifewrites]

thanks lo (@sarinataylor) for tagging me

Name: caroline

Nickname: caro

Sign: taurus

Height: 5′8″

Languages: english, french, spanish, asl

Nationality: american

Favourite Season: autumn

Favourite Flower: yellow roses, blue hydrangeas, california poppies, and peonies

Favourite Scent: chanel number 5 and the smell of the ocean when it rains

Favourite Colour: green or yellow

Favourite Animal: giraffes 

Favourite Fictional Character: jamie fraser or jo march

Coffee, Tea or Hot Chocolate?: iced coffee, hot irish breakfast tea

Average Sleep Hours: depends on the day, but about 6 hrs?

Cats or Dogs? cats, but i have dogs! i love em both

# of Blankets You Sleep With: in my flat? one. in my childhood home? eight

Dream Trip: australia, south africa, and kenya

Blog Established: this one was in march of 2019?? i think?? so coming up on one year!

Followers: 159

Random Fact: i’m named after my mom’s favorite book from when she was a kid, and i taught myself to read when i was five 

tagging: @opheliedulac @queenofparrys

[the-al-chemist]

The Beginning of a Symphony - Chapter 26

A/N: Ophelia works on her master plan in secret…

OCs featured/mentioned: Adelia Selwyn @thatravenpuffwitch, Marigold Sterling @that-scouse-wizard, Frederick Lavigne @slytherindisaster, Leila Hellebore @whatwouldvalerydo, Bradford Pendleton @kc-and-co, Carolyn Nyberg, Selene Fraser and Alan the ferret @lifeofkaze

Warnings: Animal exploitation and experimentation.

November 1896

As Ophelia left the Great Hall after dinner, she and the other girls from her dormitory were accosted by Ethel Hexley from Gryffindor House.

“What do you want, Hexley?” Caro asked, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Ethel held out a folded leaf of parchment, which neither Caro nor any of the other girls took from her. “What is that?”

“It’s a poster,” Ethel told her. “Selene and I were hoping that you might display it in the Slytherin Common Room for us.”

Caro exchanged glances with Adelia and Marigold, the latter of whom reached out and took the parchment from her. Frowning, she unfolded it to reveal a sketch of a weasel and the words: ‘Missing Ferret: Lost, Stolen, or Kidnapped. Partial to Cockroach Clusters and answers to the name Alan. Generous reward for safe return.’

“Now, wait one minute,” said Adelia, pursing her lips. “Isn’t this the ferret that the two of you transfigured into a lion and let loose in our changing tents after the Quidditch match last week?”

“Yes, the very same. Have you seen him?”

“Not since he chased Frederick Lavigne out from the tents in only his breeches,” Marigold sniggered. “Is he still a lion, or is he a ferret again now?”

“A ferret, obviously. Otherwise I’d have asked Jimmy to draw a lion on the poster, wouldn’t I?”

“You could try asking Leila Hellebore. She was the one who managed to stop him from terrorising the other players.”

Ophelia shuddered, remembering how Leila had made the lion cower by baring her demonic fangs and hissing at it. She might have felt sorry for the beast, if it hadn’t smelt quite so terrible.

“I already have asked Leila, and she hadn’t seen him, either,” Ethel sighed deeply. “Selene and I are positively bereft without him.”

“Then perhaps you should not have released him in such a manner,” said Caro, shortly. “Now, if you are quite finished, we must get on. Good evening, Miss Hexley.”

“Good luck finding your ferret.”

The girls left for the Great Hall and set off for the dungeons. Before they descended the staircase, however, Ophelia let out an anguished noise.

“Oh no!” she exclaimed. “I am such a scatter-brained fool! I have to complete the essay for Herbology tomorrow. How could I possibly have forgotten?”

“Which essay?”

“I shall have to run to the library and finish it now. I shall see you all anon.”

With that, she turned tail and walked briskly up the corridor and away from them in the direction of the library. Once she turned the corner and was out of sight, she paused and listened out for their footsteps on the stairs behind her. Certain that they had now left, she retraced her steps and, with a look over her shoulder, opened a shabby looking wooden door and slipped behind it.

The room beyond the door was a storage room, filled with old cauldrons and barely bristled broomsticks, along with the caretaker’s cleaning equipment. She reached into the largest of the cauldrons and pulled out a small cage made of metal wire, containing a single minky-furred and foul-smelling ferret.

“Here you are, you stinky thing,” she told it, reaching into the pocket of her robes and pulling out a handful of food that she had stolen from the dinner table, which she scattered into the cage through the gaps between the metal wires. She used a handkerchief to wipe her hands, before pulling out her wand and pointing it at the ferret. “Now, stay still.”

She closed her eyes, envisioning the ferret turning a pure, brilliant white, and cast the spell she had looked up in a Transfiguration textbook she had found in the library earlier in the week: “Colovaria.”

She opened her eyes and groaned quietly. The ferret’s fur had indeed changed colour, but rather than white, it was now jet black. She tried again.

“Colovaria!”

This time, the ferret turned vivid fuchsia. Unwilling to give up until she had managed it, Ophelia repeated the procure over and over, the ferret turning every colour under the sun, until eventually, it finished the table scraps and grew tired of being her test subject, and began to gnaw at the bars of its cage, grunting angrily.

“I am sorry,” Ophelia told the now mustard-coloured ferret. “I did not realise that it would be quite so difficult. But do not fret. I am certain that your coat will return to its usual colour quite soon.”

This was a lie. Ophelia may have underestimated the spell’s difficulty, but she was all too aware of her own shortcomings when it came to magic. That was why she had borrowed the ferret in the first place; she had not wished to use the spell on herself until she had perfected it on something else. She did not wish to end up with her own hair a horrid yellow colour, not when she had envisioned it being a sweet, flaxen blonde, like Caro’s or Adelia’s.

She had decided that blonde hair would be her first step to becoming beautiful on the first night of the term, after Caro had returned from the summer even more towheaded than usual following two months of long days in the Swedish sunshine. Several people had stopped to compliment her hair, and Bradford Pendleton had stared at the pale golden colour of her tresses for an hour straight. Since then, Ophelia had tried every possible way she could think of to lighten her own mousey hair: sitting out in the sunshine for hours at a time, sneaking into the kitchens to steal honey and lemon juice, and keeping back some of the urine from her chamberpot. But with none of the methods had been overly effective, and having found that her skin had darkened, her hair had become sticky, and several people had started wrinkling their noses when in her vicinity, she had decided that she would be far better resorting to magic, even if her spellcasting was below par.

“It really is terrible being plain and poor and bad at magic,” she told the ferret, with a deep mournful sigh. The ferret stopped chewing at the bars to look at her. “No, you’re quite right. I really had ought to pull myself together. The sooner I get the hang of this, the sooner I will be beautiful, and the sooner you can return to Miss Hexley and Miss Fraser. Colovaria!”

This time, though the ferret did not turn white, its coat did lighten to a very pale shade of lilac. Well, that was an improvement at least.

“See? We shall be done in no time at all.”

And it was just as well, Ophelia thought. The smell of ferret was starting to make her feel quite sick, and she was quite looking forward to claiming the generous reward that was promised for its safe return.

[lifeofkaze]

Spring Break Challenge - Day 5

Prompt: Umbrella

A/N: From sunny Las Vegas we're back in rainy England for Day 5 of @kc-and-co Spring Break Challenge and it's time for some good old Sethel mischief.

Ethel Hexley belongs to @the-al-chemist, Cledwyn Ironwood to @that-scouse-wizard and Jin Watanabe to @whatwouldvalerydo (the latter two in mention)

Find all stories for this challenge in the masterpost here.

“Come back this instance, you wretched little goblins! This dress is French couture!” the shrill voice of Carolyn Nyberg echoed through the rainy courtyard.

Selene Fraser and Ethel Hexley weren’t fazed by the suddenly very unlady-like curses Carolyn was shouting after them; they were dashing through the cloisters laughing and screeching as they skittered around the corners on the wet soles of their shoes, Carolyn’s umbrella clutched firmly in Selene’s hands. Only when they had reached the dripping archway leading outside to the greenhouses was when they stopped.

“Have you seen her face?” Selene giggled and pressed her hands into her stinging sides. Her dress was splashed with dirt and water from running, and a trail of muddy footsteps clearly showed the path the two girls had taken.

“Wasn’t it the funniest thing?” Ethel laughed and looked up with a smug grin on her face. She had her hands resting on her thighs and was breathing heavily from their sprint. “What do you reckon, will Caro be in pursuit of us?”

Selene shook her head and Ethel ducked from the drops of cold water that were flying out of Selene’s hair. “In this downpour? No, I’d imagine she’s still in the courtyard screaming like a Banshee with her book over her head to protect her precious dress. Because didn’t you hear, Effy?” She held a hand over her head and pulled an exaggerated face as she called out in a high-pitched voice. “This is French couture!”

Ethel snickered. “Living under the Black Lake but being afraid of a little water. It must be so exhausting to be her.”

“Do you reckon she’ll be very vexed at us?”

“There is now way of knowing with Caro,” Ethel shrugged. “Her face always looks the same, as if she had something stuck under her nose.”

Both girls giggled to themselves and then took a closer look at their prize.

“What do you reckon should we do now?” Ethel asked and laid the umbrella they had relieved Caro of over her shoulder. She twirled it around in her hand and walked up and down the hallway with big, bouncy steps, flipping her hair over her shoulder every now and again and keeping her chin up so highly that her head was fully dipped back into her neck. “Don’t I make a fine lady, Selly?”

“The finest I’ve ever seen,” Selene agreed. She looked in the direction of the greenhouses with a frown. “I don’t fancy being stuck here.”

“No, me neither,” Ethel said and held linked arms with Selene. “We shall take a walk together, what do you say?”

“I say that’s a fantastic idea.”

They strolled through the rain, protected by Carolyn’s umbrella, making sure not to miss a single puddle to jump into. They had made it as far as the greenhouses when Selene suddenly pulled Ethel’s sleeve and made her stop.

“Pray, Effy, aren’t these Cledwyn, Henry and Jin right over there?”

Ethel craned her neck. “Where?”

“Right there, in the greenhouse.”

“What would they be doing in the greenhouse?”

“And without us?”

The two girls rushed to the slightly fogged glass wall of the greenhouse, and peered inside.

“They seem to be reading.”

“How dreadfully boring.”

“They must have forgotten we invited them for tea with us.”

“They must feel so bad about it,” Selene said sympathetically. Her eyes wandered up the side of the greenhouse and onto the roof. When she saw that one of the rooflights wasn’t closed properly a mischievous grin appeared onto her face.

“Effy,” she said, “how much water would you imagine this umbrella can hold when turned upside down?”

“A fair bit,” Ethel replied. She sounded surprised but when she followed Selene’s gaze first a look of understanding and then approval formed on her face.

“And how opposed are you to getting utterly drenched?”

“A little rain won’t melt you, like our dear mama is wont to say to Jimmy.”

“Excellent,” Selene smiled and closed the umbrella, not minding the rain hitting her face in the slightest. “Now, how do we get up there?”

[chasingtheshadowoflove]

“He was aware that somehow she had wrapped one of her legs round the back of one of his, as though to bring him even closer, and he slid his thigh between hers and gathered her against him, as though to absorb her, to melt her into him with kissing.”

The Pupil // Caro Fraser // 55

[melwikwrites]

Books I read in October

I missed a couple months of round-ups, so here’s one for October, a bit belated and without my usual cover images bc I’m too lazy.

The Pupil by Caro Fraser: The story of a lawyer intern trying to win a permanent job while having a crisis of sexuality. Queer book from 1994, so, mildly vintage! Older than me! First book in a series I may or may not continue reading.

Fire From Heaven by Mary Renault: I LOVE ALEXANDER THE GREAT. Also very very queer! Bc Alexander the Great! More vintage queer than The Pupil bc it’s from 1969. Also just good! 10/10, will probably reread, definitely looking into Mary Renault in the future.

The Ballad of Black Tom by Victor LaValle: Like Lovecraft but from a black person’s point of view. The real horror is humans (...especially racist white humans).

Never Come to Rest by Keira Michelle Teilford: What if an aristocrat femme woman and a suffragist butch

A Treason of Truths by Ada Harper: A queen and her loyal spymaster. Except the spymaster has seeecrets (yes, we’re all shocked). Now one of my fave f/f books.

One Night in Boukos by A.J. Demas: A kinda gay eunuch and a straight soldier search a fantasy city for their missing diplomat employer. False advertising in the title--this story does not take place in a single night.

The Magpie Lord by K.J. Charles: Ppl are always recommending this book as fantasy regency m/m and they never mention it’s hella dark? Like, spoopy?

Think of England by K.J. Charles: I did not intend to read two Charles books in one month but I guess I did. I liked this one better. Spy shenanigans and sexuality crises. So, my life basically.

Mating the Huntress by Talia Hibbert: She wants to murder him.

Paper Dolls Book One by Blythe Stone and Emma Chamberlain: Almost died of purple prose but still loved that good f/f highschool angst (but also warnings for abuse and a student/teacher relationship).

I read other books too but honestly this is already too many. If you’ve read any of these books and wanna chat, send me an ask, I’m up for it.