#and the subject of thomas having come up again 8') ]

[shithowdy]

If not for the 3 paged book, what details on the image itself gave it away?

Let's look at it! For those who missed it, this is the image in question:

we already have a bad habit of disconnecting this sort of over the top high fantasy work from its creators (Angus McBride, Dave Mattingly, etc), which makes it easy to pass around in a memetic manner and kind of forget it's art in the first place. We tend to think of it almost as clipart, something generic, thomas kincade for people who play d&d. this makes it easily replicable and ripe for misuse, because people are less likely to seek out the source for something that already feels familiar and ubiquitous-- surely this is just public domain stuff, right?

Well, of course not. These days its easier than ever to just slap in a prompt that gives you something ALMOST familiar but not able to be meaningfully reverse searched, and that's how you end up with the current crisis on print sites and sellers like craggyscorner dot com, from where this image comes.

So how can you tell the familiar from the outright false? Some of the other images on the site this is from have better examples, but I'll stick with this one. Here are a few things to spot!

1.) I'll get the meaty, weird hand out of the way first. Hands aren't a reliable tell every time, but the fucked-up little thumb makes this one nice and obvious for us.

2.) There is hair randomly visible despite his being hooded; the ripples of the fabric and the hair also seem to merge.

3.) The columns do not match in pattern or width, nor do the capitals on them make any sense. The brickwork also follows no pattern-- mistakes not made by someone of this ostensible rendering skill.

4.) His knees extend way, way far out from his body and he appears to have three of them.

5.) This is a big one: AI struggles with defining edges on things, and often contours edges of background items to warp and match ones in the foreground-- think of how edited instagram photos warp bricks behind the subject. The visual is similar to that. This can be seen to a lesser degree in many places on the image, such as the book by the hand, or the bricks along his backside.

6.) Escher architecture. Again, not a professional mistake.

7.) ?????? He does not appear to have feet. The image politely fudges itself behind the text.

8.) Lastly, the robes are just a mess. AI doesn't really understand seams, or layers, or really how clothes work at all, which is how he ends up with what appears to be two hoods and a chiffon wrap around his waist. The folds and shadows are busy enough to be believable at a glance but they hide that nothing appears to look.... correct.

Also just for fun I tried to do my most charitable drawover of his anatomy. Yeah.

Can you spot more problems? You probably can.

[the-hem]

The Gospel Torah Tantra. What do the names of the 12 Disciples really mean?

Jesus was called Christ - "anointed, having no earthly counterpart" only once in the Gospels: See Matthew 1:16:

And Jacob begat Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus, who is called Christ.

and chapter 16:

13 Jesus came into the country of Caesarea Philippi. He asked His followers, “Who do people say that I, the Son of Man, am?” 14 They said, “Some say You are John the Baptist and some say Elijah and others say Jeremiah or one of the early preachers.”

15 He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” 16 Simon Peter said, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”

17 Jesus said to him, “Simon, son of Jonah, you are happy because you did not learn this from man. My Father in heaven has shown you this.

18 “And I tell you that you are Peter. On this rock I will build My church. The powers of hell will not be able to have power over My church. 19 I will give you the keys of the holy nation of heaven. Whatever you do not allow on earth will not have been allowed in heaven. Whatever you allow on earth will have been allowed in heaven.” 20 Then with strong words He told His followers to tell no one that He was the Christ.

In the Book of John, even though He says no one comes by the Father but by Him, Jesus makes it clear nothing comes or goes anywhere without the God of Israel.

Even still, as men, we must come to contend with earthly phenomena such as they are first if we want to comprehend God's Heavenly being:

John Chapter 3:

5 Jesus answered, “Very truly I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless they are born of water and the Spirit. 6 Flesh gives birth to flesh, but the Spirit[b] gives birth to spirit. 7 You should not be surprised at my saying, ‘You[c] must be born again.’ 8 The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.”[d]

9 “How can this be?” Nicodemus asked.

10 “You are Israel’s teacher,” said Jesus, “and do you not understand these things? 11 Very truly I tell you, we speak of what we know, and we testify to what we have seen, but still you people do not accept our testimony. 12 I have spoken to you of earthly things and you do not believe; how then will you believe if I speak of heavenly things?

First one recognizes one is not self made but made by God. Then what is made by man must be the subject of scrutiny and it will always come up lacking won't it?

What did the authors of the Gospels agree upon should come as a direct result of Christ's Testimony?

If we take the names of the Disciples and turn them into Tantra, a practical explanation of their roles in the scripture, look what happens:

Simon-Peter =He who listens, is a man of stone,

James= who follows, son of Zebedee= Gift of Yah

John=Yah is gracious, together these two are "sons of thunder"

Andrew= manliness, man of liberty

Philip= beloved of the military

Bartholomew= one who plows

Matthew= Gift of yah

Thomas=the twin

James son of Alphaeus= who follows to traverse or renew

Thaddeus= valiant

Simon the zealot

Judas= Let Him be praised

=

Who listens [to God] is a man of the Rock, who follows God's instructions, is a man of freedom but holds the reins of others, is a twin like God, Who traverses the heavens to renew [us]. Let us be brave and zealous like him, may our efforts praise Him.

This explains the purposes of God on earth renewal, and restates the very thing Jesus said- walk on the ground as a man of inscrutable countenance if you want to understand what traverses heaven.

[niiwa-angel]

1. I've been considering myself a radical feminist for about three years now.

2. I saw a video of Lia Thomas winning in the women's swim league and all the comments below were things like "cis women should get better at sports" or even more sexist nonsense. It really started to open my eyes to how poorly TRAs view women.

3. Yes, I would consider myself a TERF.

4. I have never identified as trans.

5. I'm bisexual. I try to avoid men in my dating poll but I wouldn't consider myself a separatist.

6. I think makeup is a complicated topic, because as an artistic expression, such as cosplay, illusion makeup, or Halloween makeup, I think it's really fun. I also think humans have a weird instinctual drive to decorate themselves, hence why every culture in history has come up with some kind of makeup on their own. That said, I think the push for women to wear full faces of makeup every day that hide every little blemish is rooted in insecurity and makeup companies thrive on those. I do still wear makeup occasionally, especially when I cosplay, and occasionally I'll do it on a special occasion, like a nice dinner or a party.

7. Sex work is the exploitation of poor women, trafficked women, and disabled women for the profit and entertainment of males. I have never done sex work.

8. I think real life porn, as in, actual humans on pictures or videos is exploitative, perpetuates violence against women, and maintains a demand for trafficking victims. However, I think things like animated erotica, written erotica like fanfiction, and comics are fine. There is no exploitation, no human trafficking, and while there could be an argument that it's unhealthy for people to become aroused by fake humans, I don't really consider that an issue. I have never watched porn but I do read erotica fanfiction.

9. The hijab, and any other religious head coverings, perpetuate the notion that the female body is dirty, a temptation, and a commodity. I am not now Muslim and I have never been a Muslim.

10. I still do a lot of the things I criticize. I shave my legs, pubic area, and under arms. I also wear makeup occasionally although again, it's mostly cosplay stuff. I shave because frankly, I really hate having hair in those areas, it may be patriarchal but I don't believe in making myself live in physical discomfort to make a political statement.

11. Gender is a cultural thing, it changes based on where in the world you are. Sex is biological. Women are oppressed for their sex, statistics should be taken based on sex, shelters, sports, and prisons should be segregated by sex.

12. I wouldn't consider myself a capitalist, I lean far more towards Socialism.

13. I am Canadian, I live in Ontario.

14. I wish more Radfems were open to talking about how unsustainable total separatism is. I don't believe we'll get anywhere if we all just refuse to engage with society. Early Suffragettes weren't hiding away and trying to move out to bumfuck nowhere, they fought to vote, hold office, work, own property, and be educated, they fought for the right to participate in and shape society and I feel that trying to hide away from it or escape it is not feminist.

15. Some people in my life know I'm a Radfem. I have a few college friends who are similarly minded that I talk to and I've broached the subject with my mom and sister. Other than that, no, I'm pretty quiet about it.

Questions for radblr / terfblr —

1. How long have y’all been radical feminists?

2. What ‘radicalized’ you?

3. Do you consider yourself a terf?

4. Have you ever (or currently) identified as transgender?

5. What is your sexuality? If attracted to males, do you consider yourself a separatist or are you still open to being with males (or do you have a boyfriend/husband currently)?

6. What is your opinion on makeup? Do you still wear it?

7. What is your opinion on ‘sex work’? Have you ever done ‘sex work’?

8. What is your opinion on pornography? Did you ever watch it in the past?

9. What is your opinion on the hijab? Are you a muslim/ex muslim?

10. Do you still do some of the things you criticize? (Shaving, makeup, etc)

11. What is your opinion on Gender vs. Sex?

12. Are you anti-capitalist?

13. What country (or continent) are you from?

14. What is a topic you wished more radfems would talk about?

15. Does anyone in your life know you’re a radfem?

Feel free to skip a question if it makes you uncomfortable!

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"GETS PROMOTION," Weekly Free Press & Weekly Farmer. March 12, 1913. Page 1. ---- COL. IRVINE Warden of Stony Mountain Penitentiary, Transferred to Kingston.

"PROMOTION FOR WESTERN OFFICIAL," Weekly Free Press & Weekly Farmer. March 12, 1913. Page 1. --- Col. Irvine, Warden Stonewall Penitentiary, Transferred to Kingston-May Not Accept. ---- Kingston, Ont., March 8. - Major W. S. Hughes, accountant of the penitentiary here, will leave for Ottawa next week, having received word of his appointment as inspector of penitentiaries. His salary will be $4,000 per year. Inspector G. W. Dawson has been transferred to the public works department, and Major Hughes will take his place. Lieut.-Col. Irvine, of Stony Mountain, will assume the position of warden of the penitentiary here in a few days.

DISTINGUISHED CAREER. Colonel A. J. Irvine was born in the city of Quebec on December 7, 1837. His father was a distinguished British soldier and while stationed at the ancient capital, acted as aide-de-camp for several governors-general, and was one of the gentlemen appointed to at- tend the Prince of Wales (the late King Edward VII) on the occasion of his visit to Canada In 1860. Col. Irvine was educated in Quebec high school and by private tutors. His education completed, he took up the profession of civil engineering and was employed on the construction of the Victoria bridge, under the builder, Alexander MacKenzie Ross, he being the only Canadian on a staff of one hundred men. He subsequently engaged in the timber business on the Gatineau river and attended the Kingston military school, where he won a prize as a cavalry swordsman.

When there was a call for volunteers in eastern Canada, to join a military expedition to the Red river to suppress the first Metis uprising. Col. Irvine immediately enlisted and having had military training and experience, was given the post of major. When the rebellion was suppressed, Col. Irvine wintered (1870-71) at Lower Fort Garry with a portion of the troops and in the following spring he was given the command of Fort Osborne. Here he remained until 1874 when the force was disbanded, and he was given an appointment with the R.N.W.M.P. as inspector under Commissioner McLeod. When Commissioner McLeod became a judge, he succeeded to the commissionership and continued to hold that important office until after the North West rebellion in 1885, meeting the responsibilities and performing the arduous duties of the office in a manner which has stamped him as an astute diplomat and a brave soldier.

His courage, his unfailing integrity and his kindness won the respect of the better disposed Indians and doubt helped to keep the unruly ones in subjection and to prevent bloodshed. Col. Irvine took an active part in suppressing the uprising under Louis Riel in 1885 and of all those who served in this rebellion, he was the only one who received the imperial service medal.

On retiring from the commissionership of the Mounted Police in 1885, Col. Irvine became Indian agent on the Blood reserve in southern Alberta. He held this post until 1892, when he was appointed warden of Stony Mountain penitentiary, succeeding the late Col. Bedson, a position in which his outstanding characteristic as a public officer, a fine conscientiousness in the performance of duty, was again manifested in every detail of the work devolving upon him.

Col. Irvine had two brothers and two sisters. Of the brothers one was a lawyer, who was at one time a business partner of Sir Wilfrid Laurier. The other was a soldier who served with honor the British army in India and Africa. Col. Irvine is a staunch Episcopalian more loyal and devoted member the Church of England never had.

Coming to Manitoba St. Thomas, Ont., March 8. - Capt. John C. Ponsford, of this city, has been appointed by the Dominion government warden of Stony Mountain penitentiary, successor to Col. Irvine, who has been transferred to the wardenship of the Kingston penitentiary.

Captain John C. Ponsford was born in St. Thomas in 1863, and after leaving school he was with Ponsford Bros., contractors, from 1894 to 1906. Captain Ponsford was tax collector for St. Thomas, resigning to go into business in El Paso, Texas, where he remained for a few years. He has been identified with the 25th regiment for many years. He also has always taken a great interest in sports. Capt. Ponsford will leave in about a week take up his new duties at Stony Mountain.

[kolanii-a-blog]

"Aren't you tired of lying to yourself?" @flint

Flint is quiet for a long time, gripping the edge of the counter top, staring out through the kitchen window at a world of sunlight and greenery, a simple world, a life he cannot access. It seems as though he might not answer Miranda at all- or worse, with the whitening of his knuckles and the tension in his jaw, it seems his temper might explode as it so often does- until a heavy, hissing sigh pulls from behind his teeth.

Every time she speaks of what they’ve lost–every time she guesses at how James feels about it, about him–something in him flinches and recoils. Maybe the wound is still too raw. Or maybe she’s right about the shame–

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Flint says, eventually. He sounds exhausted. Doesn’t want to snap at her, or push her further away when she’s become his whole world and he hers. But it’s a constant effort to keep the anger (the only outlet he has for the shame) in check. “I’m tired… of a lot of things.”

[fitz-higgins]

LGBT literature of the 1860s–1910s. Part 2

Ten more works! This time we have: a sci-fi novel by a transgender author, a major science study of homosexuality in the 19th century, Thomas Mann's homoerotic short story and more.

1. Two Loves, by Alfred Douglas (1894). This beautiful poem is a staple of gay culture, famous for its last line, the love that dare not speak its name, which became an euphemism for homosexuality and acted as code for homosexual men [see more about codes here]. [Read online]

2. Q. E. D., by Gertrude Stein (written in 1903, published in 1950). Based on Stein’s ill-fated relationship with May Bookstaver, this short story is about love between a young Adele and Helen. Interestingly, the story is the first novel that uses the word “queer” as a signifier of homosexual love. [Read online]

3. L'Immoraliste (The Immoralist), by André Gide André (1902). Another story of a married man who discovers that he is attracted to men, so much so that he virtually sacrifices her. Again, problematic, but offers an interesting insight as it is written by a homosexual (or bisexual) author who was familiar with gay community of France. [Read online in French or in English]

4. L’eredità di Saffo (Sappho’s Legacy), by Nada Peretti (1908). Out of scientific curiosity about lesbian relationships and after witnessing them in women’s boarding schools, Fede conducts a survey. The novel contains the results of this survey and also the letters from her friend Franz on this topic. The book is so explicit that Peretti was even tried for obscenity.

5. Fenny Skaller: Ein Leben der namenlosen Liebe (Fenny Skaller: A Life of the Nameless Love), by John Henry Mackay (1913). Another autobiographical novel that explores same-sex sexuality and the subject of “third sex” which was popular at that time. The protagonist, Fenny, discovers that he is not alone in his preferences through scientific studies. Curious, he studies sexology, but eventually comes to an identity that is resistant to theories of sexual intermediacy, mostly because of the way it describes homosexual people. Allow me an interesting quote: “He understood only so much: they had locked up his love in science’s wax-figure cabinet of monsters, of deformities and monstrosities of all kinds – there they had also classified him: among people with whom he had nothing in common, and could and would have nothing in common. But the love existed. It was there, and among those pages, filled with the confessions of the desperate, who did not understand themselves and who hoped for salvation from the doctor”. [Read online in English]

6. Beatrice the Sixteenth: Being the Personal Narrative of Mary Hatherley, M.B., Explorer and Geographer, by Irene Clyde (1909). Another Edwardian sci-fi (feminist utopia), written by a transgender author, no less! Mary Hatherley, an explorer, finds herself in a strange kingdom of Armeria where gender doesn’t seem to exists, and relationships are based on love and companionship, not sex.

7. The Claudine stories, by Colette (1900–1903: Claudine à l'école, Claudine à Paris, Claudine en ménage, Claudine s'en va). Semi-autobiographical story of Claudine and her journey from her school to the literary salons includes a lot of homoerotic motifs and describes Colette’s own experience in same-sex relationships. [Read all four novels in English or Claudine à l'école in French]

8. Tonio Kröger, by Thomas Mann (1903). A short story about a young man who is torn between his bourgeois and artistic heritage as well as between two sexualities as he falls in love both with a popular young man and with a young woman. [Read online in German or in English]

9. L’Affaire Oscar Wilde, by André Raffalovich (1895). Raffalovich was a poet, a critic of Oscar Wilde and for some time was considered the leading expert on homosexuality in France. In this essay he attacked Wilde, but not for homosexuality (he himself was a gay man, in relationship with John Gray) but for “encouraging vice in others”. Raffalovich did consider Wilde a criminal, but only because of the influence on “the vain youth”. [Read online in French, also available on Google Play]

10. Sexual Inversion (Studies in the Psychology of Sex, Vol. 2), by Havelock Ellis & John Addington Symonds (1900). Officially, this work’s author is only Ellis, because Symonds’ name was removed to avoid a scandal. He was a gay man and a very influental figure for homosexual men of the 19th century. This is the first English medical book about homosexuality. It explores same-sex relationships in different cultures and eras and classifies forms of “sexual inversion” in men and women. [Read online]

If you missed Part One, here it is! More to come. If you have suggestions feel free to submit them via comments, ask or DMs!

[liptonsbabe]

Hi would you mind doing a piece with the promos Misc 16 and fluff 8 with Thomas from the maze runner pretty please? Thanks!!

Thank u for requesting!

Thomas, where’s my kiddo? [Thomas]

Thomas x Fem! reader

#8 “I think you might be my soulmate.”

#16 “YOU SAID TO BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!”

From the fluff and misc prompt list here!

Word count: idk, sorry lol

warings: none

"Are you sure you can handle this? I mean, this will be the first time you'll be taking care of our little one without me."

"Are you kidding? This will be a piece of cake" Thomas told you as he placed his four year old son on his lap. The little boy laughed when his daddy kissed his cheek. You smiled

"It will be several hours, Thomas. You know Alby doesn't take meetings lightly."

"Will you calm down? It's going to be fine. For once in your life trust my judgment."

You sighed because you knew Thomas was right, you should trust him a little more and his ability to spend time with his son without either of them getting hurt. You smiled then left a kiss on both boys' cheeks.

"Okay, you two can have fun while I'm gone" They both cheered "Just make sure he doesn't put anything in his mouth and don't ever let him out of your sight, got it?"

Thomas rolled his eyes.

"We'll be fine, stop worrying."

"Great, then" You said goodbye watching as Thomas began to play with his little boy in his arms.

After two hours, the door to the meeting room opened with a bang revealing a sweaty Thomas. You frowned as you approached him.

"Tom, what are you doing here? And where is our son?"

"Uh... is he not here?" You looked at him sternly. Thomas raised his arms before you claimed "We're playing hide and seek! Yes, that's right. We're playing, so now it's my turn to find him, did you know our little guy is very good at hiding? I think he got it from you!".

"Thomas..." You warned him. He smiled nervously

"Yes, I think you guys are lot alike. You're both adorable, funny and very naughty. I think you might be my soul mate, ya know"

"Thomas" you repeated looking at him with annoyance. He was babbling things trying to evade the subject so you would forget why he was there. You grabbed him by the wrist squeezing him hard "I'm not going to repeat it again, so be honest where is my son?"

Thomas shrugged his shoulders, defeated

"Fine! I lost him!"

"Thomas!"

"It wasn't my fault! I don't know how it happened, I just left him for a moment near the box playing with his wooden strollers while I got a juice box from the kitchen!"

"I warned you not to leave him alone!" you yelled hitting his chest.

"YOU SAID TO BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME! and it was only a couple of minutes!"

You left the room a nervous wreck because even though you shouted your son's name three times he didn't answer. Alby organized the search in no time and that's how you and Thomas found yourselves walking all over the glade arguing.

Time passed as your concern grew. Alby had already sent the runners out to take a look at the main corridors of the maze but they still didn't have much luck. Thomas let out a sigh before taking your hands and continuing to search for his little boy.

Something seemed to come to Thomas' mind all of a sudden.

"The chocolate cave!"

"What?"

"He's in there!"

Without another word, Thomas ran out into the kitchen where no one had taken the time to look. Inside the huge drawer where Frypan kept the chocolate for his special cakes was your son, covered from head to toe in chocolate and with his belly swollen from eating so much candy. You let out a sigh of relief.

The little boy's eyes lit up after seeing his father. He threw himself into his arms, staining Thomas's shirt with the candy.

"Daddy!"

"God, baby, you had us worried sick."

"You found me!" your son laughed. Thomas nodded, embarrassed

"No matter where you are, your dad is always going to find you" You both stroked his hair making him laugh. Thomas kissed his forehead "Holy shit, you almost made me pee my pants!"

"Mommy! Daddy's saying bad words!"

"Yeah, I heard that" That was the moment Thomas knew he had screwed up. Your look made him shrug his shoulders even with his son in his arms "Daddy will be grounded for quite a while, and so are you!"

[theshelbyclan]

Horse Thieves

Summary: The Shelby siblings are still building their imperium, and they need a horse to do it.

(Gif by @madshelby​)

A/N: I asked around a bit and people wanted to read a lot more about Teddy, so I decided to use this request by one lovely anon: Hello! I've never done a request for a fic before so please excuse me if this isn't the right way to do it 🙈 But I noticed your requests were open and read the prompts list you linked to for Shelby sister prompts - so can I request something that incorporates 7.“car. Now”, 8.“what story do you want tonight” and 14.“your heading the right way for a smacked backside”. Thank you! I decided to base this on this idea I had in the longer Teddy series, where she refers to a time when she stole a horse with Tommy. So see this as a prequel if you will, set before the series. Words: 2773

*** “Whatever you do, you’re not using Finn.” “I won’t…” “I mean it, Thomas,” Aunt Polly warned, “You’ve only been back for five minutes from France and I will not have you endangering my nephew, after I’ve kept him safe for fucking four years.” 

Tommy sighed, “Yes, I understand.” Polly looked at her nephew with a distrustful gaze, “Why do we need the horse?” “Betting’s down,” he slowly lit a cigarette, “We need our own. A horse that looks good. Convinces people to lay a bet.” She had to agree with that, “Where will you go?” “To the place where people most expect a horse to be stolen.” “Why?” “Hide in plain sight,” he pointed, “you taught me that.” “I thought I taught you everything…” Polly mused sternly. Tommy nodded slowly, “Maybe. And now I’m acting on it…” After a short pause, he said, “I’m gonna do it, Pol. I’ll make this family rich. Trust me.” “What about the little ones?” “I’m doing this for them, alright, so that they won’t have to grow up like we did!” Fire was burning in his eyes when he spoke, but Polly had never seen him quite like this. He was different these days. After pondering for a while, she said, “So tell me where.” Tommy took a deep breath, knowing she’d disapprove, “The fair.” “For fuck’s sake, Thomas!” *** “WELCOME TO THE FAIR!” Arthur bellowed, which scared most people in his vicinity away, but it made Teddy, who was used to it, literally jump for joy. Arthur grinned broadly and lifted his little sister up onto his shoulders, shouting, “Now look here, sweet girl, this is where we bloody come from and don’t you forget it!” “Arthur, can I have a candied apple?” Teddy asked him, knowing he wouldn’t refuse her anything when he was in a mood like this. “You can have all the apples, Teddy!” he replied with a grand gesture. John came walking besides them and quietly said to his brother, “They’re here.” “Good,” Arthur said uncharacteristically gently, and he lifted Teddy off his shoulders again, “Tommy’s in place.” “What about Finn, Arthur?” he said, playing with his toothpick. Arthur winked at his suddenly much younger brother, “Don’t worry, brother. He’s off playing with the Boswell kids. He’ll be no bloody trouble.” John grinned down at Teddy, “Unlike this one!” “You know why, John?” Teddy asked cheekily, “Because Finn is like Arthur, but I am like you!” John laughed manically out loud and Arthur bellowed, “She’s fucking right!” “How about that apple, Arthur?” Teddy asked innocently, quickly adding a, “Please?” “Wait here, princess.” As they continued walking, John took Teddy’s hand in his and said to her, “Look at all the horses, Teddy. Maybe one day you could have one of your own.” “But I already have the pony you gave me when you came back,” she looked up with adoring eyes. It was no secret that Teddy had four heroes in life, and those were her brothers. He looked down, “Yeah, but one day you’ll have a horse. Promise.” “John?” she asked, suddenly serious, “You won’t go away again, will you?” “Go where? Why would I leave my favourite little girl!” “You did before…” John stopped and turned to her, “Listen, that was the war… You know I don’t like talking about that…” “I know…” “But the war’s over. No more fucking mud for us, alright?” he said earnestly. He tried desperately to hide the pain he felt. Teddy nodded. “I’m sorry,” John blurted out all of a sudden, “I’m sorry we left you. We didn’t know… what it’d be… we thought it would be…” he simply couldn’t find the words. “I know,” she interrupted him in a high voice, “It’s okay. Just don’t do it again, alright?” “Alright,” he smiled. Then he changed his tone again, happy to switch subjects, “Now, what story do you want tonight?” “One about a horse!” “How about we get you a real one?” John suggested light-heartedly.

Teddy giggled because she thought he was joking, slipped her hand into his again and started skipping. Then she looked over at Arthur, who was just in the process of stealing an apple for her. It was good to have her brothers back again. 

“Teddy?” John asked, “think you could do something for me?” “Like what?” “Tommy needs our help.” “With what?” her eyebrows shot up. John coughed once and waited for Arthur to join them, “Eat your apple. And listen, Tommy needs us to help him with something.” Mouth full of candied apple, “whaff kinf of somefingff?” “Just do as we tell you to,” John explained, “and then Tommy’ll tell you what to do.” Arthur nodded, “He’s already instructed us.” “Arthur,” John became unsure, “Are we really involving our eight-year-old sister in this?” “She’ll be fine, John-boy! She’s fucking smart, she is.” “I am,” Teddy replied proudly. The candied apple was nearly gone already.

“Alright, Teddy-girl, you listen to me, yeah?” John bend down to her level, “I need you to pretend you got lost, or maybe ask for help, or cry! Can you cry?” Teddy sniffled a little, “I’m not sure,” she then said in her normal voice. “Don’t worry if you can’t! Just scream a lot, alright?” “Wait!” she said, “Give me a second….” And she pouted her lips again, scrunched up her nose and suddenly tears were falling down her cheeks. “Bloody hell…” Arthur mumbled, as he turned to John, “you fucking created a monster.” “I’m crying!” Teddy said triumphantly through her tears, “Now what?” John shook her head to banish the emotions he felt over seeing his baby sister cry, “Go to Tommy.” Teddy quickly darted off and went in search of her other brother. When she found him, she announced herself with, “Look, Tommy, real tears!” “What the fuck?” Tommy replied in shock, “What happened, tell me now!” “Nothing!” she quipped, “John made me.”   “I’ll fucking kill him,” her brother said automatically, “Did he throw you up in the air again?” Teddy grinned, “No, and besides that doesn’t make me cry…” “It did when you broke your arm.” She waved a disinterested hand, “Fine. But I mean he told me to cry because you needed a disattraction! “Distraction.” “Yes!” Tommy knelt down and said in a hushed voice, “Alright, first things first, you can never, ever tell Aunt Polly about this, do you hear me?” Teddy nodded obediently. “I mean it Teddy. She’ll have my fucking balls…” A high voice replied, “Which balls?” He sighed deeply again, regretting his words intensely, “Listen to me, eh? Don’t tell Aunt Pol.” “I will,” but a vague twinkle had come into Teddy’s eyes the second she realised her big tough brother was scared of Aunt Polly too.

Tommy lifted up Teddy and she rested on his hip, hugged close by his arm. She could vaguely smell his hair, his cigarette and a whiff of horse on him. This was her brother, who’d been gone for two whole years. She was only little when he’d gone, but Teddy remembered she cried a lot. All she ever wanted at night was for John to play with her and for Arthur to sit with her and for Tommy to tell her stories. She and Finn used to curl up together and cry. But now he was home, not the same, but still home.

“See them?” Tommy pointed, with a smile playing about his lips like he used to have all the time before the war, “See that family?” Teddy followed his hand with her eyes, “Yeah, the ones with the man with the blue scarf?” “That’s the one,” he nodded, “I need you to distract them.” “Why?” “So I can take their horse.” Teddy turned to face Tommy, and as she grinned, his face lit up as well, “Are we going to steal the horse, Tommy?” Teddy whispered excitedly. “Yes.” She lowered her voice even more, “just you and me?” Softly, he planted a kiss on her head, “Can’t do it without you…” Couldn’t do any of this without you here, he thought, but didn’t say it. “Alright,” he continued, “I’m going to talk to the man with the scarf. Meanwhile, John and Arthur are going to pick a fight with some other men, over by the candied apples, you see?” “That’s why I got an apple…” Teddy mused, slightly disappointed. Tommy quickly got her attention back, “I’ll be talking to him about this other family I know,” he waved a hand, “it’ll be something useless, but I’ll get him to walk away. John-boy is itching to punch someone, so he will, don’t get scared, alright?” Teddy frowned, “I’m not scared of John.” “Now, you see that horse, the black one, by the water?” She peered through the crowd of people and finally caught a glimpse of the beauty. Her eyes lit up in a way that only the Shelby’s eyes light up when looking at a horse. “There’s two boys with him. I need you to go to them. Make sure they walk away from the horse.” “Tommy…” Teddy thought out loud, “Won’t they know it was us?” He smirked at his sister’s intellect, “No. They don’t know us. Besides, they’re feuding with another family here. There’s a war coming, but we won’t be involved this time. Don’t worry about it, eh?” “Why are they fighting, Tommy?” she was not letting it go so easily. “Because I made it happen.” Then he walked a few feet so that they were both hidden from sight, “Now, I need you to distract the boys, and maybe some of the women as well. Cry, if you can, and if anything goes wrong, scream. I know you’re good at that…” “Who will take the horse?” “Johnny Dogs will. He’s close by,” Tommy leaned his forehead onto Teddy’s, “Think you can do it?” “Yes!” “Not too scared?” “Never!” Teddy replied enthusiastically, which slightly worried Tommy, but instead he said, “Go on.” So Teddy walked out behind the tent on her own and started thinking sad thoughts, just to make the tears come easily later on. There wasn’t much need for them though, because as soon as she approached the boys who were washing the horse, one called out, “Piss off!” “Fuck you!” Teddy replied in a flash, “This is free land and I’m a free woman!” she heard Aunt Polly say that once, “I’ll go where I fucking please!” One of the boys pushed her and angrily Teddy shoved him back. Then the second one came for her, and Teddy suddenly remembered her mission. So against all of her instincts, she let herself be pushed to the ground and started howling as soon as she landed. Immediately heads turned and Teddy cried like she hadn’t done in two years, “They pushed me!” But somewhere from out the corner of her eye, she saw Arthur arguing with someone and John landing a punch, almost in slow-motion, and she knew everything went according to plan. “Did not!” the boy protested nervously, “she started it!” Teddy curled up a little and held onto her leg like it was hurting, while trying to make herself as small as possible, “It hurts…” “What have you done!” a strange woman called out to one of the boys, who shrunk visibly as soon as he heard her voice, “fighting little girls now, are you?!” “I didn’t, ma! She started it!” but before he could finish his sentence, he’d gotten the first smack around the head. One down, one more to go. So Teddy upped the tears and it worked beautifully: the second boy didn’t wait for his mother to hear, but decided to run instead. Slowly, Teddy started to calm down, because if she just stood up now and showed it was all fake, everything would’ve been for nothing. She made that mistake once with Finn, and she wouldn’t be doing so again. After about a minute, chaos had descended on the fair. Men were fighting, Tommy was making an already nervous man simply anxious and this side of the camp was almost deserted. But where was Johnny? Teddy got up and hid near the beautiful horse. And then she saw him: somehow Johnny had ended up in the middle of the fight as well. This could ruin everything! “Come,” Teddy beckoned, “Come here! I promise I won’t hurt you…” and much to her own surprise, the horse obeyed. She untied the reigns and like he’d always been hers, he followed her down into the river. Teddy swam a little, wondered for only a second what Aunt Polly would say, and then climbed up onto the horse’s back in the water. From there on, she made a quick decision and urged the horse on. The river was low and couldn’t be seen all the way from the camp, so she kept the route of invisibility. After a while, she spurred the horse on and he climbed the riverside, with the tiny load still on his back. From this distance, Teddy could still see the fair, but because of the trees she was certain they couldn’t see her. “Now what?” she asked the horse, because she hadn’t really thought this through. In reply it neighed. “Shh!” Teddy scolded, “you want me to get caught?” So she steered the horse by its manes and made her way to where the family car was parked. With some luck, everyone else would still be too busy fighting. *** “Teddy!” Teddy turned her head and saw her brothers running, with sheer panic in their eyes. “Where the fuck were you?” Tommy demanded. Teddy shrunk a little at the anger in his voice, “I didn’t know where to go so I went here…” “Car. Now!” Tommy fumed. “That was actually smart, Tom,” Arthur defended her. Tommy ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “I thought something happened to you… That’s why I tell you not to leave my fucking side!” “I’m sorry…” she whimpered and tears started forming in her eyes again. “Don’t even try that,” John joked, “We know you can pretend now.” Looking caught, Teddy tried to hide the smile she shared with John. “That’s it, Tom,” Arthur walked back and forth to get rid of the adrenaline still coursing through his body, after they found there little sister was missing, “We’re not using our bloody sister again, for anything!” “Agreed,” Tommy said at once. “I thought you wanted the horse?” Teddy questioned. Again Tommy sighed and he lit another cigarette, “No fucking horse is worth losing you over, Teddy.” And that’s when she realised he wasn’t angry, just worried. “No fucking horse,” Arthur agreed. “But…” she started. John interrupted, “Forget about the horse, Teddy, we’re just glad you’re okay.” “But…” “Besides, we can get a horse some other way, eh?” Tommy continued, “Might even pay for it…” “But…” Tommy held up a hand, “Stop interrupting me, Teddy.” Instead Teddy interrupted him, “But the fucking horse is fucking here!” she pointed beyond the car at the woods, “Look! I rode him here after Johnny didn’t show up!” “I’ll be fucking damned,” Arthur blurted out, “she rode the fucking horse here.” John burst out laughing and simply high-fived Teddy, but Tommy looked as stunned as Arthur did. Anxiously, Teddy waited for Tommy’s reply, occasionally saying things like, “Johnny wasn’t coming,” and “my tears were almost dried up,” and “it wasn’t really my fault, the horse just followed me!” “Teddy Shelby,” Tommy said finally, “you little horse thief…” “You told me to,” Teddy said pointedly, but couldn’t quite hide the pride in her voice. “Oh, so this is our fault, eh?” Teddy shrugged and put on an angelic face, “Well, Arthur taught me how to steal, John taught me how to cry and you told me what to do…”

He pointed at her, “You’re heading the right way for a smacked backside...” Again Tommy looked at the horse and then he coughed a short laugh, “Alright, you win. We’re all horse thieves. Go get your horse.” “Mine?” “Yours.” As Teddy got the horse, the brothers still couldn’t get over the fact that she just did all of that. “Before we go home, there’s just one more thing, Teddy,” Tommy said, “Tell me again what I made you promise.” “Don’t tell Aunt Polly about this.” “Or?” he said menacingly, hoping he still had some authority over her by usually being the one who punished her, when he wasn’t teaching her how to steal that is… “She’ll have your balls.” Tommy eyed his two brothers who doubled over in laugher, but decided to ignore that. “Good girl.”

*** Masterlist

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

champagne problems (part 1)

here's my first part of my modern no magic "champagne problems" singer-songwriter quarantine thomastair AU! happy birthday to @foxglove-airmid even though I don't think it's your birthday where you live anymore (and I still haven't posted zia's birthday fic, it'll happen I swear)!

no content warnings for this part (besides maybe quarantine), but future parts will include discussions of mental illness, substance abuse, and a suicide attempt

obviously, the song alastair "wrote" in the fic is not mine, it's by taylor swift! and a few of the lyrics have been changed!

Masterlist | AO3

Thomas breathed out a sigh of relief as he lugged his suitcase up onto the fifth floor landing.

“‘Ere we are,” Piers announced as he unlocked the door.

Thomas was utterly exhausted, such was the result of taking a redeye flight across the Atlantic during a global pandemic, but any idea of rest that he’d had was interrupted when he heard the sound of piano flood the apartment.

“Ah, sorry about that,” Piers nodded, “One of my flatmates, the walls are paper thin. He can’t record at the studio right now, but he’s trying to finish his EP, so it’s been a bit noisier around here. He’ll take a break soon, hopefully.”

Thomas shook his head. “It’s no problem. Thank you, again, for allowing me to stay here. I’ll be looking for my own place as soon as the quarantine is up.”

“Of course. You’ve got the couch as long as you need it. Couldn��t just hang you out to dry, could I? Although, you did pick a god awful time to move to the city, if I do say so myself.”

Thomas sat down on the couch and tried to make himself comfortable. It was more comfortable than the flight or the airport, at least. “I know… I considered postponing the move, but the visa was so difficult to get, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity. They say this will all blow over in a couple of weeks, but borders are closing and I heard talk of them suspending all pending visa applications. I didn't know how long it would be if I waited, if the job was even still here for me at all.” Although at first entrance, the music had seemed to be a nuisance, it now comforted him. It wasn’t bad at all, in fact, it quite reminded him of the days Alastair’s playing had filled their flat…

“Where did you say you were working again? At a record company?”

“Yeah. I’m just doing pretty basic stuff for now, but if I ever do want to record my own music, I’ve got to start somewhere.”

“Hm,” Piers said, gesturing to the room the music was coming from. “Perhaps you’ll get on with him well, then. Would you like some tea?”

Thomas nodded and Piers went to start the teapot. Piers continued, “Though I suppose he's more of the tortured artist type. Very reserved, quite prickly. I didn't even meet him until a couple weeks after I moved in here because he was off in some psychiatric hospital.” Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was never one for gossip. “My other roommate’s nice, though, I think you’ll like him. He-”

“How did you end up in New York, again? I don’t think I ever asked.”

Piers dove into the subject change quite readily, explaining his uni - or college - years in New York City and his decision to stay afterwards. Thomas had tuned most of it out, truthfully. It wasn’t that he was trying to be rude, but he was rather exhausted, and Piers was wearing thin on his patience.

As the kettle started to whine, Thomas heard the musician begin to sing, and he froze. It sounded so much like Alastair. But it couldn't be, could it? With over 8 million people living in the city, he would not end up in Alastair's apartment by accident. His Alastair was certainly reserved and prickly, but it wasn't possible. It must be like all those times he thought he saw him on a street he'd never walked or heard his laugh in a café he'd never been to. Just his mind, tricking him. Even if he knew that voice so well, despite not hearing it in so long.

“It’s quite good, isn’t it? His first single just dropped.” Piers asked, bringing over his cup of tea. He hadn’t realized it, but he’d been staring intently at the door.

Thomas took the cup. “Hm? Yeah, I guess. Thanks.”

“You should look it up. It’s called “champagne problems” by Simurgh. That’s spelled- Well, it should come up.”

The name Simurgh sounded familiar, but Thomas couldn’t put his finger on where he knew it from. At Piers’ insistence, he pulled out his phone and brought up the song. As he skimmed through the first few lines, a cold feeling settled in his stomach.

“You booked the night train for a reason So you could sit there in this hurt Bustling crowds or silent sleepers You're not sure which is worse”

“Simurgh,” Thomas realized.

“Yeah, I think it’s Arabic or something.”

It took Thomas a moment to process that Piers was responding to him. “It’s Persian.” He was certain that Alastair would have some very stern words to say if he heard Piers confusing the two, actually. Thomas had admittedly let his Farsi skills deteriorate quite a bit since the breakup, but he was fairly certain the name came from the Shahnameh. There was no doubt in Thomas’ mind now: he was staying in Alastair’s apartment, and Alastair’s first single was about one of the most painful days in Thomas’ life. “I, er, I used to study it.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right!” Piers launched into a tangent that Thomas tuned out as he read through the rest of the page.

“Because I dropped your hand while dancing Left you out there standing Crestfallen on the landing Champagne problems”

“Thomas? Are you alright?”

He realized then that his hand was trembling so badly that his tea nearly spilled. He used his other hand to steady it. “Oh, uh, yes, I’m just tired.”

“Perhaps you should rest. I can ask Alastair to quiet down for a while-”

“No!” he exclaimed rather too forcefully. “No, that’s not necessary. I’d just rather not talk, if that’s alright.”

Piers nodded.

Thomas kept reading.

“Your mom's ring in your pocket My picture in your wallet Your heart was glass, I dropped it Champagne problems”

Of all the songs, why did he release the one about him? Why was it about a memory still so painful in Thomas’ heart, all of these years later? He remembered it so well, standing there, alone, shattered into a million pieces.

“You told your family for a reason You couldn't keep it in Your sister splashed out on the bottle Now no one's celebrating”

He was fairly certain that Barbara had been more excited than even he was, confident that Alastair would accept, and so very proud of her baby brother, all grown up. She’d been furious when it fell apart, but it was her who stood with him during the aftermath, who boarded him onto a train to Edinburgh to visit Eugenia when he couldn’t stand to be in the same city as him any longer, who went through his phone, blocking all of Alastair’s accounts so that he could obsess over him no longer, who comforted him as he wept and held him as he picked the pieces of himself back up again.

And all the more sour was the memory in light of her death.

“Dom Pérignon, you brought it No crowd of friends applauded Your hometown skeptics called it Champagne problems”

He looked up at Piers, who had fortunately become enthralled with something on his phone and was no longer paying Thomas any mind. He lifted the teacup gingerly to his lips, but he felt far too sick to take a drink.

“You had a speech, you're speechless Love slipped beyond your reaches And I couldn't give a reason Champagne problems”

A reason, that’s all Thomas had wanted. Just any explanation. He understood if they were moving too fast, or perhaps he’d misread something, but he just didn’t understand it.

Why? Why can’t you tell me why? I deserve an explanation, Alastair. Please, anything.

I… I’m sorry, Thomas.

Stop it! Stop apologizing! We can just go home and pretend this never happened, please, forget about all of it, it was a stupid idea-

Thomas, stop. I shouldn’t’ve… This was a mistake. I’m sorry I didn’t see that sooner.

That was the moment Thomas felt his heart stop beating.

“Your Midas touch on the Chevy door November flush and your flannel cure "This dorm was once a madhouse" I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me" How evergreen, our group of friends Don't think we'll say that word again And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls That we once walked through”

Despite the nearly two decades Thomas had spent in London before Alastair, it was never the same without him. He saw him everywhere he went, despite knowing he was thousands of miles away. After graduating uni that May, he accepted a spot at a graduate program in Spain and didn’t look back.

“One for the money, two for the show I never was ready so I watch you go Sometimes you just don't know the answer 'Til someone's on their knees and asks you "You’re the only one I want by my side, What a shame you’re fucked in the head," you said”

Those were the words that haunted Thomas’ nightmares, even now.

It’s you! It’s only you for me! It was always going to be you! But I can see now that I was never going to be enough for you, you and your secrets and walls and your lies. It’s a shame… it’s a shame you’re so fucked in the head, Alastair. You’ll never truly love anyone, will you? You’re not physically capable of it.

Alastair hadn’t responded. Thomas had wanted a rise out of him, any reaction at all, despite knowing how lethal and volatile Alastair could become when provoked. But there was nothing. Not a flicker of anything in his steeled expression. He’d simply looked down, apologized again for any pain that he’d caused, and left.

That was the last time they’d spoken.

Thomas and his sister left for Edinburgh that night, and when he’d returned to London, Alastair was gone.

“Well, you'll find the real thing instead Who'll patch up your tapestry that I shred And hold your hand while dancing Never leave you standing Crestfallen on the landing With champagne problems”

Thomas couldn’t imagine giving his heart to anyone again, not now and certainly not then. He’d dated in Madrid, but it had always stayed casual. He’d made sure of it. He could see now that he and Alastair had gotten together quickly, moved in together quickly, done all of it very quickly. After all, he’d fallen hard and fast. He gave all of himself to Alastair, and he’d nearly lost all of himself in the process.

“Your mom's ring in your pocket New picture in your wallet You won't remember all my Champagne problems

“You won't remember all my Champagne problems”

Now, he wondered what the rest of the story was. He’d convinced himself that Alastair had never loved him, that he was heartless and cruel, though he’d known that wasn’t true. Could Alastair have written this song if he’d never truly loved him? Perhaps he was a sociopath.

Thomas felt like he should run. Like he should pick up his bag and dart out of the apartment before Alastair could notice him, find some hotel somewhere with undoubtedly extraordinary high rates and just pretend like this never happened. He could get back on a plane and go back home to his parents and delete his phone browser history and pretend like this was all just a bad dream. But he could not move.

He didn’t know how many minutes had passed before Alastair’s door opened. He looked up with a start.

“Thomas,” Alastair breathed. He stood wide eyed, flushed.

“Do you two already know each other then?” Piers asked.

There was a moment of silence before Thomas cleared his throat. “We used to,” he said, looking down.

“I, er, I forgot that your friend was coming today,” Alastair told Piers. “It’s quite a long journey from London, you should have told me, I would have been quieter.”

Thomas considered correcting him for a moment, but decided not to. “Don’t worry about it. I heard you had your first big release. Congratulations.”

Alastair gave an awkward nod. “Thank you. Right, well, I’ll just…” He rushed over to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. “I’ll try to be a bit quieter.”

“Don’t- It’s fine, really. In fact, I’m sure there’s some hotel in the area I can stay at for now, actually-”

“Well, don’t leave on my account,” Alastair interrupted. “We agreed to let you stay here, and the city’s a bloody mess right now. I’ll stay out of your hair, Thomas.”

Thomas only nodded as Alastair disappeared back behind his bedroom door.

Thanks for reading! Taglist (ask to be +/-): @stxr-thxif @chaos-and-starlight @zosiaenrique @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @eugeniaslongsword @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid @writeforjordelia @sapphic-in @jem-nasium @fortheloveofthecarstairs @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @shadowrunner2000 @thewarthatsavedmylife @fair-childd @itsjusta-j-really

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Thursday 1 May 1834

7 5

1

soft hazy morning F49 ½° (in my study) at 8 10 at which hour at my desk till 8 35 – wrote the following  ‘Miss Lister left last night, with Mr Kendell’s painter a table-screen which Mr Kendell made 3 or 4 years ago for Miss Walker of Lidgate, and which wants a little repairing – the 2 leaves of the table part do not 2 sheet quite square, and small hook at the top, to fasten them together, is wanting – Miss Walker wishes the painted baize to be taken off, and replaced by plush or velvet, the same colour as the silk, so as to make the screen fit for drawing room furniture. Mr Kendell is requested to get it done in a week or 10 days as Miss Lister will call for it, probably about that time- Shibden Hall Wednesday evening 30th April 1834’ – out with Pickles and with Charles and James Howarth who removed the harness cupboard out of the north room preparing for laying new over-floor - deal over oak -  breakfast at 9 ½ alone in the drawing room – Washington came - measured off terrace and grass plot for Pickles - of the former 832 and of the latter 391 yards = 1223 yards of stuff removed the dry bridge, forming a mound there, to mask the arch of the new dry bridge - at 8d per yard = 1223/2 =611/6d. = £30.11.6 + £30.11.6/3 = £10.3.10 altogether = £40.15.4 - Letter 2 ½ page hurried from Miss Walker Heworth Grange, York – going to dine at Dr Belcombe’s – her maid so ill, obliged to call in Mr Mattison – no danger – merely a large gum boil – kind letter she had thought of me all Tuesday night and all Wednesday morning – the letter my aunt forwarded on Monday was from Washington to ask if one of Mr Macauley’s workmen might have the empty cottage at Lightcliffe – Mr Macauley to be responsible for the rent 4 guineas per annum. If I thought better to let him have it, to tell Washington so – yes!  so told him I had just heard from Miss W- who said Mr Macauley  was to have the cottage – W- to agree with Pickles to cast away the stuff dug out at the Whiskam toll-house -  wrote note to ‘Mr Lowe tailor Halifax’ to measure Matthew Avison and make Thomas’s dress suit to fit Matthew - coat to have new cuffs and waistcoat be new lined - sent Matthew at 10 20 with the above note and with note Miss W- left to ‘Mrs Musgrave The Vicarage’ and with my letter (vide above) to ‘Messrs. Kendells upholsterers Boar lane Leeds’ - a little while with my father and Marian – then wrote the above of today till 11 ½ - then ½ hour with the workmen and then down the old bank to Throp’s - staid there till 3 ½ seeing 100 hundred Portugal laurels - 100 hollies, 25 yews and 2 Irish ditto, 12 box, 1 large common acacia, 200 Spanish chesnuts (not quite foots) - 12 blue periwinkle for back of the hut, 6 lavender, and double [scented] violets fro John’s garden at the rustic chair - 20 Bloodacina, and 6 cedars of Libanus - returned up the old

SH:7/ML/E/17/0025

bank - met Mark Town coming to speak to me - Greenwood will let him have another field so that he may have about 20 D.W. - he wants his farmstead up by November - set Pickels and his man Dick and the other holing. John brought back the things (the cart with the shelvings jammed full) about 4 ½ from then to 7, got all the laurels, all the box and all the yews but 8in. along the approach road - John and I planted the lavender violets and periwinkle near the rustic chair and behind the hut - came in at 8 10 changed my dress (wet) - dinner at 8 ¾ - coffee – 20 minutes with my aunt - talking of her planting a yew, she said she should never get out again till she was carried out another way (meaning to her funeral) and burst into tears and asked to ring for her maid – I never saw her, my aunt, so low on this subject before however Marian came with a note from Mrs widow Ramsden (of the late Dr Ramsden the attorney’s brother) and talking of this  distracted my aunt a little from her nervousness - stood talking with Marian in the north room till 11 ¼ and then wrote the last 14 lines till 11 25 – civil note from Mrs Musgrave tonight to Miss W- in answer to my one sent – her protégé will be admitted to the national school, tho’ she as merely a subscriber of the girl’s school has no right to recommend boys – fine damp gloomy growing day – fine growing rain from about 5 pm for the rest of the afternoon and evening so that came in rather wettish – F51 ½° now at 11 ½ pm in my study

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 14/?

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your Name

Somehow! I decided that Y/N became more of an OC, I don't know how this happened, but I might release an AU just because I clearly can’t fanfiction Y/N lmao.

Warnings: Discussion of arrests, Mentions of alcoholism, Mentions of drug use, Mentions of Jason’s trauma, Mentions of relationships ending bad, Mentions of abuse (domestic), No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

“Your friends... all got arrested?” he paused, “Do you remember this? At all?” he questioned.

“Do you expect me to remember any of this? I was black-out drunk, Jason,” she said, “There’s a lot of questions that need to be answered now, I know that.”

“You going to worry about this now and fix it?”

“I really don’t want to deal with it. My memory of the night is non-existent anyway.”

“Getting drunk does that to you.”

“You’d think I would know that by now,” she muttered under her breath.

He chose to ignore that statement because clearly, she wasn’t prepared for everyone to know of that part of her past yet. But that was neither here nor there.

“Do you have any notes that you need to write?” he asked, trying to ease the tension. Hoping it would clearly make her feel better if he changed the subject.

“No, I can read my own notes. I only printed them out for you, Jay.”

“Well that’s very sweet of you to do, baby.”

“Got to make up for my recklessness somehow, I guess,” she laughed, “It is what it is, I guess.”

“You should be more confident in the fact that you don’t need to make up for recklessness,” he paused, “Did I ever tell you about that time I dared Dick to tuck and roll out of the car?”

“Dick mentioned it.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you that he made me do the same first, actually,” he laughed, “We were with dad, he was teaching me how to drive as one does, and when we stopped so dad could answer a phone call, Dick leant over to me and said, ‘During my demo, twenty bucks if you tuck and roll out of the car.’ and me, being a stupid teenager took the deal,” he laughed, “Dad was pissed at us two and refused to take Dick on my driving lessons after that.”

“Well that doesn’t explain why you made Dick tuck and roll out of the car,” she laughed.

“I’m getting to it! So the next time Dick was going to go for a drive with Dad, probably because he wanted to tell Dad about Barbara or something, I don’t know, I said, ‘To get your twenty bucks back, you tuck and roll out of the car this time.’ Dick, also being a stupid teenager, did it,” he laughed, “And that’s why dad never takes us on car rides now.”

“Have any of your other siblings tucked and rolled out of cars?”

“You say that like it’s a daily activity people just do.”

“Well, who’s to say your family is not one of those types of people?” she joked.

“Logic?”

“Logic? In the Wayne Manor? That’s rich.” she joked.

“Like you would know!” he retorted to her before grabbing her and yanking her onto his chest as he laid down on his bed.

“You’re dating a girl who flipped off the press twice, you cannot look at me and say your family possesses logical thinking.”

“That’s valid, I won’t dismiss that,” he laughed.

They let the news play in the background as they cuddled. Jason still had his stitches in and he said it was because Dick said, “You’ve been moving too much’ and the two of them laughed, knowing that that was likely going to be the outcome. They knew what they did, they knew it was worth it. Dick probably didn’t think it was worth it, if he even caught on,

Bruce had reamed Jason out for that, because Bruce did catch on. Bruce had to play the parenting role in this all, and he knew what Jason was like. He knew Jason likely wasn’t prepared for the escapade and journey they had took. 

He was right. Jason wasn’t prepared for that, he didn’t have the necessary items for it. Y/N and Jason didn’t care about that at the time, so they didn’t even bother to realize. Kids will be kids, Bruce supposed, and he hoped for the best possible outcome out of this. He knew Jason wasn’t ready, he didn’t know if Y/N was ready, but he knew if what he was scared would happen actually happened, he’d support the two of them unconditionally.

But they would continue to do their own thing as time went on, and even at 3 in the morning, no one could stop them from doing what they wanted, what they needed.

That was the beauty of the chase they had done to get to this point, the drama, the love, the pain, it all got them to the point where they were side-by-side in his bed, naked. Obviously they were going to have sex eventually, they just didn’t expect it this early on, but they also seemed to be speed running the entire relationship to the good parts, where they knew each other like the back of their hands, just enjoying the quality time they got with each other.

Yes, it was soon. But it worked for them, and that’s what mattered to all of them. Not just Jason and Y/N, it mattered to his family that even if they were quickening their pace, they were happy and understanding of sometimes it just goes a little faster than one would expect. It doesn’t mean it’s bad or doomed to fail, it just means it’s clicking in a lot of ways others didn’t.

Jason had a dating rep he didn’t like to admit. He was known for being a womanizer, a playboy, someone that dads everywhere didn’t want their daughters to be with. He was given this through the fact that he did have women come in and out of his life. He didn’t want it to be this way, but that’s how it ended up being when some women, most women, would crack under the pressure of his life. He moved fast because he thought it made up for the craziness that was his life. 

So, when he found out that Y/N didn’t like the press very much, he was ecstatic. He knew she didn’t know about what was being said about him everywhere, he knew she didn’t feel scared either, when she proved time and time again that she had a backbone to stand up against the press. Was she one-of-a-kind for this trait? No. Barbara also exhibited this with Dick and their relationship. But Jason had been so shit on by women he tried to date that Y/N was a nice change.

He didn’t want the press to be her new norm, that running from them would become her life, but he also didn’t know if that bothered her for a while, until he saw the articles. The ones calling her names and insulting her every feature, physical and character traits she had shown them. He knew that of course, with the games she had been playing, that they would insult her, and with the court case going on with her attacker, they were just more vicious.

That’s why he demanded she get into Dick’s car the morning after he found out about her drinking, not because he didn’t trust her or anything, but he knew with the ongoing case that she’d be bombarded worse than before. She realized this was his reasoning eventually, probably when she was in his arms.

Her dating streak had been better, but it still wasn't the best. She had a lot of secrets she felt like she needed to hide because of how they made her feel, but eventually she would come out with her stories, the assaults, the bad men, the way they used and used her and how she let it slide.

Being assaulted was something a lot of the population had to deal with and cope with, most likely never actually telling people of their assaults and just letting it simmer, deep, deep down in their brains. Wishing it would have just not happened. 

She wanted to talk about it, but she had also healed so much from it with the help of Jason. Sure, he didn’t fix all the issues she had with exes, but the fact that he didn’t treat her the way the others did, sure as hell helped. 

Writing and dance also helped her cope with a lot of the bad things that had happened to her. She figured if Jason went through bad things, he had an outlet too, because he did seem torn up, but not massively affected. Maybe he was good at hiding how he felt about it all, but maybe he had a way to deal with the trauma.

She knew his parents’ stories and how he was so young during so much of it, and he hoped, prayed even, that he had coped well with those events. But she had no control over most if not all of the events that transpired and how he handled dealing with them.

Both of their minds had a thing for wandering away from them at the worst yet best moments. When she got a call.

“Hello?” she questioned into the phone, when an automated voice returned.

“This is a prepaid call from Gotham County Jail. From inmate ‘Justine Wong’, to accept this call, please dial 1.”

She did.

“Thank you for your cooperation. All inmate calls are recorded. Your account balance is $40.50.”

“Y/N?” Justine asked.

“Hey, I’m here.”

“So, we have an issue,” she joked, “How much do you remember?”

“Nothing. I don’t remember anything.”

“I figured, fuck.”

“It seems issues follow me wherever I go, huh.”

“No, no. It’s our fault, myself, Kaitlin, Thomas, Christopher, we all dragged you out of the house and got you drinking. I barely even remember how it got to where it ended.”

“Well that... that isn’t ideal, Justine. Do you know when your court date is?” Y/N asked.

“I don’t even know if the guy is pressing charges, I hope he doesn’t.”

“You can say that again,” she joked.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess, I took you to the bar that night.”

“You did, yeah.”

“I should have known better.”

“It’s... it’s not that you should have known better, man. It’s... it’s that a bunch of unfortunate circumstances lead us to this point,” she tried to say to comfort her friend. She did feel like it was Justine’s fault in a way, but she didn’t know if fighting with her over the phone while she was held in jail for bodily harm charges was the best idea.

“I feel like you’re mad at me,” Justine admitted.

“It’s not important, really. We can talk about it in anywhere from a couple months to a year, hoping you get lucky.”

“I think we all want to get lucky, Y/N.”

“I know.”

“I think we’re running out of time here, with the call.”

“We are.”

“Well, I love you, man. I’m sorry about all of this.”

“I love you too.”

Click. She paused for a second, with Jason sleeping next to her, she questioned a lot. Whether these friends were even worth it at the end of the day. She had changed so much since she last saw them, trying to cut clean of alcohol, drugs, partying. And trying to better herself,

But she knew all 3 of them were trying to do so too. They really had just ended up in a bad situation. It was 4:34am, and she was just lost in thought when Jason turned into her in his sleep. She smiled.

She played with his hair a bit while he slept, trying to just calm herself. He seemed sweaty, and clutched his bed sheets with one of his hands, She thought maybe he needed comfort right now, not her. She didn’t ever notice this behavior before these moments, and it concerned her. 

He was a grown man having nightmares, she assumed, but she didn’t like it. He deserved to sleep peacefully throughout the night when he woke up in a cold sweat, clutching his sheets and having his hair stroked.

He didn’t question it and just laid on top of Y/N, and let her stroke his hair as he tried to go back to sleep. They didn’t say anything, either of them. It was just really early on a Thursday morning, and they were making the best of the situations they had been thrown in.

There wasn’t any tension between the two of them, but they knew they were a ticking time bomb, that eventually they would fight and the supposed  ‘Honeymoon Phase’ would be over. They didn’t like that thought, that one day they might be at each other’s throats, forgetting that a problem in the relationship is them two versus the issue and not them vs. each other. Fighting with their s.o scared them. 

Jason would fall asleep in her arms, slowly drifting away into unconsciousness. But he would exhibit the same behaviors as before. The fear in his face was palpable.

But Y/N was asleep this time, so when Jason woke, trying to scream, he slapped his hand over his mouth and cried, he didn’t want to wake her, but he also craved just telling her what had happened and how sleeping was so, so much harder for him than she thought. 

People thought the nightmares had slowed, but he just got good at hiding them.

[feysandandnyx]

You can say what you want, but Feyre will always be better than your sisters, starting with the fact that if Feyre hadn't forgiven you, you wouldn't have a book of your favorite to piss off. Preferring something is really subjective, you don't have to like a character even though he is the main character in the book. I've liked a lot of backers, Feyre is an exception and I've liked a lot of defective characters, I have no problem with that. But I never romanticized Nesta. I admit that she did some positive things, but I always found this badly built, as if Sarah didn’t know what to do with it. And honestly, if you think this character is complex you urgently need to expand your reading skills. She may be a different character, but to say that Nesta is complex in the first place is wanting to not recognize how abusive she was to Feyre, something that Sarah herself seems to have backed off in the end. Nesta's relationship with Feyre was not just a fight between sisters.

Nesta left a negative mark on Feyre that even the Feyre fighter needs to overcome. When you feel humiliated by someone to the point that it makes you feel less important, then we are not talking about a healthy relationship. Most cases of abuse occur among family members. So I will always say that Feyre would be more than justified in not wanting anything more with his sisters. Is Feyre a perfect character? No. She is far from being. But she is not obliged. It shouldn't be. She should not be forced to forgive people who have always taken good advantage of her and who have never done anything for her. The fact that Elain and Nesta helped in the war is a good thing, but the war was everyone's duty. They could have refused and died in the end. And it is necessary to highlight the role of Elain here, because if it weren't for Elain, Nesta would not have accepted to help Feyre even knowing what that meant. So I'm going to go back to my point to justify why I think Nesta is a character who actually suffers from a bad build and that Sarah tried to save at any cost in the end.

1- She spent the whole life sitting, 10 years, hating Feyre and waiting for her father to do something. But the narrative itself states that her father was crippled and that he developed some kind of trauma that made him apathetic. So, why do you expect such a person to go into a forest to hunt? Could he have tried other things? Yes. But you should also understand that it was limited.

2 - She lived with Feyre for 10 years without realizing that Feyre did not know how to read, but calling her ignorant and savage. How's that? You are built as a character who likes to read. Do you have a sensitivity for that and you didn't understand the basics? How old was Feyre when you were poor? How many years was your education considered complete and satisfactory when you were a few years older? Justifying that you didn't notice it to make you look better had the opposite effect, as it only showed how negligent you were. You weren't obliged to teach Feyre how to read, but you at least could have realized that she couldn't. She would have shown that at least you cared. It wasn't months or years of poverty, it was a decade. So you spent years calling Feyre ignorant and filthy and you never realized how bad she felt about it? So you are so good at discovering people's weaknesses and using it against them?

3 - Elain tries to justify the way she and Nesta were negligent with Feyre with: we had no skills and we didn't receive adequate training just for us to find out in addition that Feyre taught Nessa how to use a bow and even then she didn't move.

4 - it is useless to want to justify that the three were children. They were, in fact, the fault of the father of the three, but as I already pointed out, not without a reason. However, you and I know that Nesta's characterization would take you to that forest if it were for Elain. There would be no age, his mother's shadow or his father's hatred. She would have gone. She always prioritized Elain, including leaving Feyre alone with her father while he was assaulted and she hid with Elain

5 - Repentance? do not. She spent the rest of the years hating Feyre and spending her money on ribbons and boots she didn't need, again ignoring the rags her sister wore. And the narrative implied that Feyre really tried to argue about that, but her opinion didn't matter, there was always an urgency between Elain and Nesta for their futility to be attended to

6 - Don't try to discredit Feyre's point of view about Nesta when you are the first to isolate the positive points that Feyre spoke about his sister, for why show how much "complex" Nesta is

7 - Nesta's justification for Feyre about spending her money (stealing Feyre), was that she knew Feyre could get more. Nesta completely ignores how Feyre needed to risk his life in the forest every time she felt she could spend her money on new boots because "Feyre could get more". And how were you upset with her to the point of treating her badly because she was doing something when her father didn't and at the same time you stole her because you knew she would get more ?????

8 - It is sad to know that Feyre always needs to die or be kidnapped in order for Nesta to show how he feels about her;

9 - Feyre never did anything to make Nesta hate her other than being a better person than she is, even though Nesta feels entitled to hate her;

10 - Feyre is not to blame for Nesta's problems and failures, yet Nesta always finds a way to hurt her because she is angry with other people. She did this for 10 years while feeling angry at her father, she did it by telling about Feyre's risk of pregnancy in the most irresponsible way possible just because she was angry with Amaren. Don't come to me to say that she was concerned for Feyre's well being because she wasn't. If she had really been worried, she would have called Feyre for a chat and would have told her. But she just agreed with Rhysand and left the responsibility to save and support Feyre in his hands. Then she only remembered the danger that Feyre was in to destroy her relationship with Rhysand and Amaren. Seriously, your sister's pregnancy was risky and you couldn't think that she could have fallen dead right there just for you to have your victory over Amaren;

11- "You chose Feyre" Seriously Nesta, how dare you?

12 - It is very easy to build a character like Nesta and then resort to trauma to try to justify her and awaken the empathy of the reader. We got to the point that if we don't like Nesta, we are called misogynists and insensitive. However, before being abused, Nesta was abusive. Her mother was never an obstacle to protect Elain. So her mom is not a good excuse to try to explain why she never did anything for Feyre. Her attempted sexual assault does not give her the right to use people's trauma against them, as she does with Cassian. In fact, she always did this to Feyre before Thomas, Sarah just justified it with "I didn't really know that you couldn't read". Pathetic.

13- in most parts of acosf I couldn't say whether Nesta had a trauma to be cured by her father that she always mistreated for "being sick and traumatized" or if she was just a spoiled and selfish person who resented Feyre's happiness. I'm still confused;

14 - Sarah gave her impossible powers that she clearly didn't know how to develop. What was Nesta after all? A witch? A puppet of the Mother or death incarnate? I am confused about what her powers really were and I was not surprised by the lazy resolution that Sarah invented to get rid of them. I think we all agree that Feyre's pregnancy plot line didn't need to be there or it could have been developed without us having to see Feyre dying again. What a "creative".

I don't think Nesta is a bad character, I just think she is badly built because all of her justifications for behaving in a certain way are not satisfactory or open up holes in the narrative (her relationship with Elain is an example).

To make up for these construction flaws, Sarah tried to justify Nesta out of emotional issues. Establishing a toxic relationship with your mother in the past, an attempted sexual assault in the not-so-distant past, and the recent trauma caused by your father's death. Behind Nesta's decisions, there is always a purely emotional issue and that, in my view, takes away the complexity of the character.

She would be complex if she just admitted that and she was wrong and that was okay. Nobody is perfect. I got to see a good progression from Nesta to book 3 and I was fine with that. I thought that her whole issue with her father was worse than positive. But I think Sarah understands what Nesta was (abusive) and she wanted to ensure that she would be understood by opening up all of her feelings. I think it worked for some and for others it didn't. I found it appealing. I still don't like her, but I'm glad she is no longer allowed to be toxic. But for me she just needed to really explain herself and apologize to Feyre. I never thought Nesta really hated Feyre. The problem was not whether Nesta loved her or not, but the years when she was abusive to Feyre. She should have just recognized what it was and apologized for it.

[i-make-random-song-parodies]

Historically accurate Hamilton

Hamilton faces a lot of criticism because of its historical inaccuracies, but people seem to forget that it isn’t supposed to be completely accurate. It’s historical fiction, and many details were tweaked to make the musical run more smoothly, make more sense, and generally be easier for an audience to follow. To emphasise my point, I rewrote some of Hamilton to show what it might have been like if it was completely historically accurate (or, parts of it. I’m not rewriting an entire musical).

NB: I am by no means a historical expert. The following is meant for comedy purposes only

For songs where multiple people sing, the speaker will be denoted by the following letters: B – Burr, H – Hamilton, L – Lafayette, J – John Laurens, M – Hercules Mulligan, T – Thomas Jefferson,

Use of the squiggles (~~~~~) means some of the song was skipped

I think that’s everything! Enjoy the musical!!!!!

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

Aaron Burr – Historically accurate

~~~~~

B: You punched the bursar?

A: Nope

~~~~~

Showtime! Showtime! Yo!

J: I’m John Lauren’s, in the place to be! It’d make sense for you to meet all three Of us together, but unfortunately It’s gonna be a while ‘til you finally meet me!

L: Oui oui, mon ami, je m'appelle Lafayette! And just like Laurens, I have not arrived yet I sing from afar and I say “bonsoir” To these strangers at the bar, they do not know moi

M: Brrrah brraaah! I am Hercules Mulligan Talking to myself, cos I don’t have a single friend Wait, I’m already friends with Alex Ham, And this introduction’s pointless, cos he knows who I am! No more people, we need a solution The two of us alone can’t start a revolution!

Well, if it ain't the prodigy of Princeton college! Aaron Burr! Give us a verse, drop some knowledge!

B: Good luck with that, you’re all on your own, Even Hamilton can’t start a revolution alone

M: Burr, the revolution's imminent. What do you stall for?

H: If you stand for nothing Burr, what’ll you fall for?

M: Who? Who are you?

H: ….. Hamilton? Your friend?

M: Oh. Right. Yea.

*awkward pause, then lights go down*

The Story of Tonight – Historically accurate

M: Raise a glass to the two of us

H: Why are there so few of us?

M: Not much is happening tonight

H: I need another drink tonight

M: They will forget about tonight

The Schuyler Siblings:

Angelica, Eliza, John, Philip, Rensselaer, Cornelia, Catherine, and Peggy The Schuyler siblings Angelica, Peggy, Eliza, John, Philip, Rensselaer, Cornelia, Catherine WORK!

The 25 Duel Commandments

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

It’s the 25 duel commandments It’s the 25 duel commandments

Number 1:

Instead of giving a concise set of rules, To explain to the audience the basics about duels We’re gonna list every single commandment and derail The entire musical with unnecessary detail

Number 2:

Lee’s second wasn’t Aaron Burr it was his friend Major Evan Edwards, who you’re never gonna see again As Burr isn’t here, we miss some foreshadowing And Alexander’s death might not be as heart-shattering

Number 3:

Okay folks, this is taking too long We don’t have time for 25 commandments in one song By the time we finish you’ll have stopped paying attention So let’s just finish this, while there’s still some apprehension

Number 24: Look ‘em in the eye, aim no higher Summon all the courage you require Then count

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

Number 25 paces fire!

Cabinet battle #1 – Historically Accurate

W: Secretary Jefferson, you have the floor

T: Life liberty and the pursuit of happiness We fought for these ideals we shouldn’t settle for less But I’m quiet and reserved, and not a fan of fighting So I’m just gonna give you my objections in writing

W: Thank you, Secretary Jefferson Secretary Hamilton, your response

H: Thomas, that was a real nice declaration You speaking up at all is a cause for celebration But obviously, there isn’t that much to discuss Seeing as you didn’t kick up much of a fuss My new financial system is a masterpiece Our debts will be sorted, our independence will increase Tell me if you have any suggestions or notes But I have high hopes that I can rely on your votes

W: Great. Meeting concluded.

Cabinet Battle #2 – Historically Accurate

W: The issue on the table, France is on the verge of war with England And do we provide aid and troops to our French allies Or do we stay out of it, remember My decision on this matter is not subject to congressional approval The only person you have to convince is me Secretary Jefferson, you have the floor, sir

T: I’d really like to help out France But I’m still too shy to make a whole song and dance

W: Thank you Secretary Jefferson. Secretary Hamilton, your response

H: Jefferson’s dumb, let’s not get involved I’m sorry but not every problem can be solved By recklessly running to join the fight We stay out of it. Thank you, and goodnight.

W: Hamilton’s right. Hamilton, draft a statement of neutrality

T: Did you forget Lafayette?

H: Nope

T: Ok then

Burn – Historically Accurate

~~~~~

I’m erasing myself from the narrative Historians have no idea how Eliza reacted So neither will you Sorry, but for historical accuracy this song is through

The world was wide enough – Historically Accurate

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

There are 25 things you need to know There are 25 things you need to know

Number 1:

This duel was a long time coming You’d have known that if we hadn’t skipped most of the foreshadowing

Number 2:

A bunch of secondary characters were there I’d list all their names but you probably don’t care

Number 3:

The election wasn’t the main reason for Our duel. Hamilton, the bastard, son of a whore Tried to undermine me in my gubernatorial race So I told him “if you have something to say, name a time and place”

~~~~~

Number 24:

Look him in the eye aim no higher Summon all the courage you require Then count

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

Number 25 paces fire!

He aims his pistol over my shoulder, and fires. I strike him right between the ribs

~~~~~

BONUS SONG:

Who lives, who dies, who tells your story – Historically Accurate Summary

Let me tell you what I wish I’d known When I was young and dreamed of glory You cannot write A good, historically accurate story

Lin Manuel Miranda I’ll give him this His Hamilton musical is a work of art I couldn’t correct it if I tried And I’ve tried

Lin Manuel Miranda He took your country from knowing nothing about Hamilton to knowing at least some stuff about him I’m happy to admit it He deserves all the credit he gets

A historically inaccurate but still incredible story

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

You still here? Well congrats for making it this far!!! I hope you enjoyed, please (please) leave a comment if you enjoyed it, I survive purely on the validation I receive from others, and feel free to send me requests if you want :)

Credit to where I got all my info:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zhrVjfVmAow&t=518s

https://www.tampabay.com/life-culture/2020/07/03/politifact-fact-checking-hamilton-the-musical/

https://screenrant.com/hamilton-historical-inaccuracies-wrong-true-story/

[averyhappychainsawhalloween]

Reverence | Part 8

Thomas Hewitt X You | NSFW

Masterlist with links to other parts

Hoyt sneered down at you but suddenly he was blocked out by an old linen work shirt. Tommy had stepped in front of you, the muscles in his arms tensed and his fingers curled into fists. He looked ready for a fight. 

“Are you disrespecting my authority, boy?” Hoyt growled. The old man still had his gun pulled and you wondered, would Hoyt shoot Tommy if he came at him? You didn’t want to find out. When Thomas took a step towards Hoyt you put a hand on his arm to stop him. 

“It’s okay, Tommy,” you said, pulling your lips into a smile you didn’t feel in your heart. “I’ll be back later.” 

Your eyes met Hoyt’s. You wanted him to know the only reason Thomas wasn’t bashing his head in was you. 

Reluctantly, Thomas stepped aside. You crossed over to Hoyt, stepping over Dave’s body. 

“Let’s go, Sheriff.” 

You walked in silence to the store where Luda Mae was going through the trunk of Jake and Dave’s car. 

“Anything useful?” Hoyt barked at her. 

“There’s liquor,” she said, holding up a bottle of whiskey. “A lot of it.” 

She gathered everything useful into a box and carried in back into the store. Hoyt slipped into the drive’s side and waved for you to follow. You slid into the passenger’s seat and the engine roared to life. The radio began playing a rock song and Hoyt made a disgusted noise and clicked it off. 

He pulled out of the store and headed down the road towards the car graveyard you had gone through a week prior. 

“Family comes first, Thomas knows that,” he said, his eyes on the road. 

“Really? Didn’t seem like it back at the house,” you said lightly, your eyes watching the scenery pass outside. 

“You’re a curiosity, sweetheart. A toy he’ll get bored of and toss away so don’t put so much stock in what Tommy likes,” Hoyt said. 

“You think he’s stupid,” you said bitterly. 

“You’re a distraction,” Hoyt hissed, changing the subject. “He hardly gets anything done anymore.” 

“Because you don’t let me see him,” you countered.  

“You really think you’re god’s gift to us don’t ya?” Hoyt grumbled. 

“What?” 

“Don’t bullshit me, girl. You walk around the house like you own it,” Hoyt said. “In case you need reminding you were meat before you were a guest and you can be meat just as quick.” 

Fear pooled in your stomach and suddenly you wished you had hidden behind Tommy and instead of foolishly following Hoyt out here. 

The car came to an abrupt stop nearly knocking your head into the dashboard with the force of it. You both sat in silence as Hoyt pulled the car into place in the mass of rusted out vehicles and turned the engine off. 

“Tommy wouldn’t let you,” you said. Hoyt turned in his seat to look at you and you were very aware of his hand resting on the pistol at his hip. 

“You think Tommy’s in charge around here?” he asked. “He may be the biggest but he does what’s good for the family.” 

“Have I not been good for the family?” you asked. With as many chores as you’d been set to you couldn’t image that they didn’t think of you as even a little useful. 

“Cleanin’ the house doesn’t make you family,” Hoyt said. “And letting people get away is not good for the family.” 

“He didn’t get away,” you corrected. 

“No thanks to you,” Hoyt spit. 

Your shoulders sagged. You thought your place in the Hewitt house was solid but you were walking across thinner ice than you could have imagined. 

“You better watch yourself, girlie, because one wrong move again and I’ll blow your fucking brains out you understand?” Hoyt said, his beady eyes searing into you. 

You gave a small nod. 

“I can’t hear you.”

“Yes, I understand.” 

“Yes what?” he demanded. 

“Yes, sir, I understand,” you ground out through your teeth. 

Finally satisfied, Hoyt stepped out of the car slamming the door shut and left you alone in the heat. 

You had grown too comfortable here, that was for sure. Hoyt wasn’t as much of a dumb hick as you thought. You couldn’t leave now, he was far too trigger happy for that. 

Your hands were trembling and you curled your fingers into tight fists to keep them still. Despite everything you did for the family it would never be enough. You could scrub the floorboards until your fingers were stripped to the bone and Hoyt would still proclaim family first. 

Then you’d have to make yourself family. 

You jumped out of the car and started towards the house. You marched across the field with single minded fury. You leapt up the stairs not pausing to chat with Uncle Monty sitting outside and passed through the blood stained entry way knowing you’d get an ear full later for not cleaning it. You marched straight down into the basement and didn’t pause at the end of the staircase but pushed through the clutter to where Thomas was working.

His back was to you, his shoulders tense as he brought a clever down on the table with a loud thwack. You never paused but went right up to the table. His arm jerked when he saw you and quickly set the knife down. 

You stepped up onto the tips of your toes to wind your hands behind his neck. Tommy took the hint and bent down and when he was close enough you caught his lips with yours. Immediately he responded, pulling you into his arms and deepening the kiss. If you were frustrated from being separated for a week, Tommy was near irate. It was clear in the stiff muscles of his back and the tension in his neck every time Hoyt ordered you around. 

It wasn’t long before his hips were pressing your body against the work table. You could feel him growing hard through your clothes and you tried to bite back the excitement you felt but it was impossible. 

The mood was infectious. Tommy picked you up and carried you away from the butchering work to his corner of the basement. He set you on his bed and soon followed, leaning over you to keep your lips locked together. His tongue ran across your lips and explored your mouth, eager to taste. 

Your hands tugged at his apron and he made a frustrated noise as he broke the kiss to toss the garment off. He descended on you again, lips working feverishly against yours like he may never get to do it again. 

His fingers hiked your skirt up to your waist and dipped into your panties. He pressed his fingers inside of you, his thumb working against your clit, building more and more heat with each twist of his fingers. 

You moaned into his mouth, moving your hips to the rhythm of his fingers.

He broke your kiss, his hands leaving you to unbuckle his belt. He pulled himself from his pants and didn’t give you any time to admire his cock before it was pressing against your entrance. 

He pushed into you slowly, pressing you down into the mattress until he was fully sheathed inside. 

“You feel so good,” you moaned, sliding your fingers into his hair. Tommy grunted as he began moving inside of you, pulling out and thrusting back deeper than before. Your fingers tightened in his hair which spurred him on. 

“Oh God Tommy,” you breathed as he bucked into you. His eyes were closed above you, his breath coming quick as he moved into you again and again. You felt your peak building with each new wave of his hips. Your wrapped your legs around him, pushing him deeper inside. 

Thomas pressed his nose to the bend of your neck, panting against your skin as your hips met again and again until you hit your crescendo. You cried out as you came on his cock. Pleasure blurred everything in the world except Thomas. Hips worked faster until he came inside you with a groan that was closer to a growl. He pinned you down into the mattress as he filled you up, moaning against your skin. 

Once he finished he collapsed beside you, his arms pulling you against his chest. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and you relaxed against him content. 

You’d be family soon enough. 

[theartofimagining13]

WRITTEN BY: A.Wölf.

BASED ON: Imagine: After a big discussion with your fiancé Tom...

CHAPTER 1: DISENGAGEMENT

TEASER  |  POSTER

I tossed and turned all night and barely got any sleep.

After my fight with Thomas, how could I? We were getting married in less than two months and I had just spent the night without my fiancé by my side because he left in a fit of rage. I looked at my phone; no texts, no calls, and it was 8 in the morning. I was pissed now, lying in bed while staring at the ceiling, thinking, thinking, thinking until I came to the conclusion that I had no need to withstand this. And out of spite, I dialed the number of the one man who’d probably never do this to me.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” I asked.

“Are you okay?” Pedro answered with his morning voice on the other line.

“Yeah. Uhm… can I come over?”

Judging by his silence, I was sure that he was glancing at the clock and frowning because this wasn’t normal for us at all.

“Sure.” He said. “Are you- where are you?”

“I’ll tell you everything when I get there.”

I got out of the shower and packed a bag with essentials and favorites.

If Thomas could leave so easily, so could I, and I’d make it 10 times worse. Why would I subject myself to this shit? If we were fighting now, I didn’t even want to imagine what would happen if we went through with the wedding. I looked at my engagement ring and my stomach clenched. I hesitated but this had to be done, so I took it off and left it on Tom’s bedside table.

Au revoir, mon amour.

In the arms of my lover Pedro...

He gently drew invisible patterns on my naked skin with his fingertips after having shared his bed with me yet again. As soon as I crossed his threshold, I went in for a desperate kiss; childishly spiteful perhaps. My bag fell to the floor, and he immediately started removing my clothes. I could never get enough of him. He was such a passionate man, and even if I tried to describe the way he touched me, I would not find the right words because it was so contradictory; with the carefulness of a museum curator restoring a masterpiece but also with a you’re-not-going-anywhere tight grasp.

“I feel like Beauty and the Beast.” He said, pulling me out of my bliss.

“What?”

He just showed a lazy smile, left a soft kiss on my right shoulder and played with a strand of my hair while deep in thought. He was such cryptic man. I wish he’d elaborate on things. I always felt like there was something he wanted to tell me; his secrets, his motivations, a dark revelation. The most addictive trait about Pedro was that I couldn’t really read him and he kept me guessing.

“Are you sure you didn’t act on impulse?” He inquired.

“What do you mean?”

“You ended your engagement. Not by word but I think it was pretty implicit.” He paused. “Would you have done it even if I wasn’t in the picture?”

“I booked a hotel for the night if that’s what’s worrying you.” I said sounding little annoyed.

He was lying behind me, so I had his voice in my ear as if he was my conscience itself trying to confront me. He sighed.

“I just don’t want you to do things for the wrong reasons and then expect me to…” He began but trailed off. “I’m not the type of man who’ll give you a ring. That’s Tom, not me. And if that’s what you want, then you shouldn’t have left.”

I sat up and turned to face him, feeling insulted. His eyes traveled down my naked body before they locked on mine and I could see the desire in them, but he clenched his jaw as if restraining himself because we were in the middle of God knows what.

“Why are you sleeping with his fiancée then, huh? I thought you two were best friends.”

Pedro clenched his jaw and lifted his right hand to point threateningly at me with his index finger.

“Don’t…” He warned.

“What the fuck, then?” I snapped. “I came here because I wanted to… talk and be with you. I didn’t come to stay.”

“You say that now but what happens in a couple weeks when you can no longer afford that hotel?”

Well, that was harsh. 

What the fuck was this? Murphy’s law?

I tightened my jaw and looked away feeling stupid and unwelcome. I’d hate to admit that I hadn’t thought about it. I hadn’t packed a few things to just make myself at home here, but then again, I never asked myself what would happen in the next days? Deep down perhaps, I was hoping for Pedro to welcome me with open arms. And now, as I stared at him and how indifferently he reached for the cigarettes on his nightstand, I couldn’t help but feel meaningless.

“You didn’t think at all. You just left.” He scolded and made me feel worse. “You’re too young and impulsive.”

And used. He could’ve said these things before he fucked me. I knew that Pedro wasn’t an asshole, and on the rare occasions he acted like one, was because something else was eating at him. Good luck trying to get it out of him though.

And, today of all days he chose to act like this.

I was angry and sad, and I’d hate to cry in front of him because, at this point, I irrationally feared he’d let out a chuckle or ignore my tears. He couldn’t even light up his cigarette because the doorbell rang. He stood up to put on his jeans and grabbed his wallet before walking out of the room. And all of a sudden, rage set in; If I wasn’t taking my fiancé’s shit, I sure as hell wasn’t going to take Pedro’s. I got out of the bed and grudgingly put on my underwear to stomp my way into the living room where he would have to give me some fucking answers.

I thought he was paying the food delivery guy, but I froze in place when I met a pair of blue eyes I knew all too well.

“Tom…”

[pointnumbersixteen]

Random Notes from a 6AM Rewatch of the First Half of About Last Night (Help! My sleep schedule is out of control.)

1) Glad I didn’t live in the middle ages, where the highlight of my life probably would have been going into the city, eating an orange, and watching a bear (likely a trained dancing bear) kill I a man. (For reasons I’ve stated elsewhere, I don’t think it’s likely Mick actually went fishing with the king.) Then catching the plague and dying. 

2) Interestingly, from his cough-of-doom, it seems like Mick caught the pneumonic version of the plague. While there was a mild-to-moderate chance of surviving the plague in it’s other forms, the pneumonic plague has a 100% mortality rate without modern medicine.

3) I enjoy how the Captain just yells at Alison’s window until she comes to start his run. I wonder what his reaction was when she wasn’t at the door with the stopwatch when he finished. 

4) I’d totally be the person who took the opportunity to try on the suit of armor whilst drunk. Because let’s be honest, if I lived in Button House, I’d have probably tried it on sober. 

5) How in the world does Mike make that noise with his throat? 

6) I enjoy Thomas trying out various ‘sexy’ poses while waiting for Alison to walk into the kitchen. It’s very Thomas. And his little dance is as always adorable whenever it appears. 

7) Alison must have hit the bargain shelves at the second-hand media store, because that’s the only place I can imagine getting a VHS of anything called ‘Guernsey’s Nazi Past.’ Given that tv/VHS/dvd seemed new to all the ghosts but Julian, I imagine Heather Button was rather a Luddite and it doesn’t seem like the sort of thing Mike and Alison would have had in their collection, if they even had a VHS collection. I actually think this is kind of sweet, because it implies Alison went out looking to buy videos that would make the Captain happy.

8) ‘When you give in to gay abandon.’ Captain, one day someone’s going to tell you the modern meaning of that word and you’re going to be mortified. 

9) That is a very average looking naked dude you’re mesmerized by, Captain. I hope one day Julian introduces you to certain sections of the internet. You’ll be amazed by what you can see there. 

10) I’m amazed that the naked man managed to slip by without Fanny seeing him. 

11) I hope Julian’s exaggerating when he says that Fanny told him that she loved Dante more than anything else in the world. Because theoretically, in order to be Heather Button’s great-grand mother, Fanny had at least one actual child. That she never mentions. 

12) Once again Humphrey is only being included when he can be used as a sports implement. Oh well. At least he seems to be enjoying himself. (Although I feel like if he can phase through floors/ceilings what have you, this would have been a good time to do so, rather than being stuck on the roof.)

13) I love that when Alison screams at seeing the plague ghosts out of the basement, Walter (Ben’s ghost) gives a little wave. 

14) I also enjoy that when Julian questions the use of the word ‘people’ when talking about the plague victims, both incarnations of Ben- the Captain and Walter- give a little nod of confirmation that yes, these are people. 

15) Might be fun to brainstorm all the things Julian was subjected to public inquiries for. Embezzling money from the government for home renovations? Arms dealing to the Libyans? Well, honestly, I think he’d end up in jail for those two, so he probably didn’t get caught at them. What do we think he did get caught for, though? 

16) Walter, why do you have to treat Nigel like that? 

17) I enjoy that the Captain calls Pat ‘Patrick’ when he’s angry at him in this episode. Like, nickname basis has been revoked, we are no longer on those terms.