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inky-duchess · 2 years ago

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Fantasy Guide to A Great House (19th-20th Century)

(I know, I've been slacking but I'm still alive)

When we think of the Victorians, the grand old Gilded Age or the Edwardians, we all think of those big mansions and manors where some of our favourite stories take place. But what and who did it take to run a great house?

Meet the Staff

Large numbers of staff were always needed to run great houses. Every department had its own management and its own teams, all working together to ensure everything ran smooth. There was both an interior and exterior team.

Interior

You can split the interior of the household into three departments: Service, Upkeep and Food Preparation.

Service

Butler: The Butler was the Head of all the household staff. He acted essentially as the manager of a great house, directing the staff on a day to day basis or at events on the command of the lord/lady/employer. Make staff would report mostly yo him and he would be in charge of keeping an eye on them. The Butler had charge of the wine cellars, the dining room, sometimes the pantry as well. As the manager of the house, Butlers were afforded the title of Mr. X. Our favourite examples being of course Mr Carson and Mr Pennyworth.

Valet: The valet was the male servant who handled the dressing of the men of the family. He would be in charge of his master's clothes, ensuring he was always dressed in the right outfit for the right activity (there was a lot) and be in charge of helping him into the outfit in question. The valet would also be in charge of cleanliness, sometimes shaving his master or running his bath. Valets were referred to as Surname and ranked in how their employer's ranked, for example the Lord’s valet would outrank his son's.

Lady's Maid: The lady's maid was similar to the valet. She was in charge of keeping the ladies of the house looking their best and handling their needs. She would style hair, care for jewels, mend clothes, care for clothes and often act as a companion, accompanying her lady on visits or day's out. The lady's maid was referred to by their surname.

Footman: The footman was a male servant who served at table, fetched items, handled heavy lifting such as luggage, opened and closed doors. Most footmen were young men and en chosen for good looks. Footmen polished the silver services at great houses and when called upon would often take on the role of valet to guests without a servant to help. Footmen were referred to as their firstname. Footmen were denoted by rank, the highest being first footman who had charge over the others and would assist the butler in some tasks.

Upkeep

Housekeeper:The housekeeper was second in command but she ran her most of the interior staff, especially those who took care of the house itself. She supervised all female staff. She helped the lady of the house when it came to running events and caring for guests. The housekeeper is always Mrs. Surname even when she's unmarried.

Housemaid: Housemaids clean the house. They would dust, make and strip beds, straighten things up and keep the house looking it's best. The housemaid was a servant that was almost never seen, usually rising early, lighting the fires, cleaning the house as the family moves from room to room. She was called by her Firstname.

Scullery Maid: The scullery maid is the lower ranking maid. She would also have been younger and less experienced. She was in charge of the more unsightly work: laying the fires, scrubbing the floors, emptying chamberpots, cleaning servant's chambers. She may even do mending and washing for other servants. She was called by her first name.

Hall boy: The hall boy was also young and handled the worst jobs. He would polish boots belonging to the family and sometimes staff, cempty the servant's chamberpots and waited on on the higher ranking servants. He was called by his name.

Food Preparation

Cook: The cook or chef was the third highest ranking servant downstairs and they ran their own department. They were in charge of the kitchen staff. All cooks and chefs would meet almost daily with the lady of the house to discuss menus and ordering but would answer to both housekeeper and butler. As with the housekeeper, a female cook or chef is Mrs Surname despite martial status and make cooks/chef are Mr.

Kitchen maid: The kitchen maid helped the cook/chef in preparing the food. She would be one of the first servants up, in charge of lighting the ovens and starting the breakfast for the family and servants. She would clean the kitchen, boil water when needed and bring food up to the servery when needed. She would be called by her first name.

Exterior

The house would needed a team on the outside to handle the stables, the gardens and any outdoor activity.

Gardeners: They would be responsible for the upkeep of the grounds itself, caring for the gardens. There would be multiple at a great house led by a head gardener.

Stableboy/groom/kennelmaster: They would take care of the family's horses and dogs. They would take care of tack, help plan hunts and riding pursuits and handle carriages.

Chauffeur: As automobiles became popular in this period, a chauffeur was needed to drive the family and take car of their motor.

Lives of Servants

Servants were paid very little at this time, mainly because most staff got free room and board. Most of the interior staff would live in the house itself and be supplied meals. Chauffeurs, gardeners etc would live nearby on the estate either as locals or be supplied a house as a staff member. Staff uniforms were also supplied. Days off were rare but not withheld. Permission was needed to leave the house either to visit the shop or take a few days off.

Servants were expected to be obedient, modest and humble at all times. They were expected to stand in the presence of their master's, speak only when spoken to and never question an order. They had to be ready for anything at the drop of a hat. You've set for a dozen guests but now there's five more coming? Tough luck, change the table settings. You get seasick? Nevermind that, your gentleman is going across the sea and as his valet you're going with him, like it or not.

Servants from one house often travelled to with the family to their other residences: the butler, footmen, chef, kitchen maids, lady's maid, valet would all go with the family while everybody else would get left behind. Every house would have its own housekeeper if it could be afforded. Housemaids and other staff needed could be hired locally when needed.

The Daily Routine

The working day of a servant in a grand house was a long arduous one.

Morning: At 6am, the servants rise. The scullery maid gets up and begins lighting the fires, starting with the kitchen. Then she cleans the kitchen top to bottom before the staff get in to cook. The kitchen maid would rise at the same time, helping with the cleaning. She would set for the servant's breakfast and start cooking it. The footmen open the shutters upstairs, cleans whatever tools they will need such as glasses and silverware, tend the lamps and sets for breakfast upstairs. The housemaids go about the house cleaning up after the night before, starting in the rooms that aren't being used (any room that's not the bedrooms). At around 8, the cook rises and starts the day. The kitchen maid serves breakfast to the other servants before returning to the kitchen to eat her own breakfast with the other kitchen staff. After breakfast, the housemaid will change her apron and deliver hot water to each of the bedrooms for the family. At 9, the family rise. Married women have breakfast in bed with all other family members and visitors eating in the dining room. Valets and lady's maids would have dressed them prior, gathering up any clothes to be mended or washed. The footmen and butlers will serve while the housemaids go into each empty room and begin their chores.

Midday: Just before midday, the chef would speak with the lady of the house to discuss menus. At around 11, the staff were permitted their first break, just enough time for a drink usually a cup of tea before they started again. The chef would start preparing for the main dinner of the evening with the lady's approval. Footmen would take their places at entrances or attend the family where he may be needed. At noon, the servants would have their dinner. At 1, the family would sit for their lunch. Once lunch is over, a footman might be permitted to attend personal business (with permission from the butler first) or be sent on errands out of the house such as delivering messages. While the family sit for breakfast, the maids tidy up any room they have been using since getting up.

Afternoon: The family take tea around 4. The footmen clear the tea before heading down to take their tea - a light meal- with the other servants around 5. Afterwards, the footmen will start to light the lamps, close the shutters and draw the curtains. The butler would oversee the laying of the table for dinner with the footmen. The first footman carries the silver, the second the china, while the butler sets the silver and glasses. If a guest is coming, a footman will remain on the door to see them in.

Evening: At 8, the footman or butler signals the start of supper. This is done by the rinibg of the gong or bell which gives the family and any staying guests, 15mins or more to get ready. Valets and lady's maids would already be upstairs at this point, helping their master/mistress. When the family head downstairs, they linger in the drawing room to chat while a footmen keeps an eye on them. Any guests visiting for dinner would be let in by a footman and announced upon entry. The butler announces dinner and escorts the family in. The footman serve the food while the butler pours the wine (chosen by the Lord with the butler's help). The footman stay in the dining room all throughout dinner, excepting when they go to the servery to collect the food from the kitchen maid. They serve and clear the plates for every course. When dinner is over, a footman will stay with the men while they drink their port while another serves the ladies their coffee in the drawing room. While dinner is on, the housemaid would tidy the empty rooms, check the fires and turn down the beds. At 9, the servants eat their supper while the family chill. When supper is over and the family is done for the night, the valets and lady's maids would ready their masters for bed. A footman would wait in the hall with candlesticks for the family and show any departing guest out. The kitchen staff would start to clean up while the butler starts locking up the house. The staff would get to bed about 11:30 - 12.

#Fantasy Guide to A Great House #Guide to A Great House part 1 #Staff #Employment #Historical reference #Writing reference #writeblr #Writing help #Writers guide #Writing research #writers resources #writing resources writing advice #Writing advice #19th century #20th century #Edwardian #Gilded age #Victorian era

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archive245 · 2 months ago

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ok so completely random thought but its been plaguing me so i have to let it out

so hear me out what if kayden has something to do with the serpents????

like rina said that some characters in the new hockey romance will be seen in kiss the villain, AND their hockey team is called the vipers, so what if there some connection between them, like some past members of the serpents are in the vipers hockey team and kayden knows them

and its said that many professors at tku have some relations to the mafia as well and the serpents are also a mafia run club sooo????

heres my pitch

yk the part in gom where they invade the serpent mansion and gareth is like at the control room while everyone else is like beating the shit out of the serpents

what if gareth bumps into professor kayden there after he was trying to escape, and gareth uses that to try blackmail him or something to get his attention (bc yk he cant be 100% sane hes asher carsons son after all)

and thats the shit he tried to pull on him, kayden gets pissed and corners him in that alleyway (that scene in gof)

and the rest is history !!!!!

lmk what you think 🫢

🤔

#booklr #rina kent #rinaverse #legacy of gods #kiss the villain

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us-cj · 16 hours ago

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President Trump is correct. I watched her "sermon." She is a liberal LGBTQ activist who flies the rainbow flag and marched for George Floyd and said Trump should leave office. Then, in 2020 when Antifa-BLM tried to burn down her church - she blamed President Trump - when he was the one that actually called to save it.

Who picked her to say this Communist garbage to President Trump from the pulpit:

"In the name of our God, I ask you to have mercy on people in this country who are scared now. There are gay and lesbian transgender children among Democratic, Republican and Independent families. Some fear for their lives.

And the people who pick our crops, clean office buildings, labor in poultry farms & meatpacking plants, wash dishes after we eat, work night shifts at hospitals - they may not be citizens or have proper documentation - but most immigrants are not criminals. They pay taxes. They are faithful members of our churches and mosques, synagogues and temples.

I ask you to have mercy Mr. President on those in our communities whose children fear that their parents will be taken away. That you help those who were fleeing war zones and persecution in their own lands. To find compassion and welcome here. Our God teaches us that we are to be merciful to the stranger. For we all want strangers in this land.

May God grant us strength & courage to honor the dignity of every human being. To speak truth to one another in love and walk humbly with each other and our God. For the good of all people in this nation and the world. Amen."

BEN CARSON: "These are words you would expect to hear from a barista, not a Bishop. She isn’t brave, or strong, or a unifier. She’s another pawn of the left whose Trump Derangement Syndrome has blinded her from truth or reason. She’s an activist. It’s disgraceful on many accounts."

FRANKLIN GRAHAM: "The National Cathedral has fallen into the hands of LGBTQ activists. So, it's not surprising this "lady bishop" spewed hate at Donald Trump today. National Cathedral has become a sanctuary of Satan."

GIORDANA: "Episcopalian Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde is a lesbian radical woke & DEI activist who believes she is chosen by God to scold President Trump regarding his TRANS policies."

MATT WALSH: "Just take one look at this witch and you know everything you need to know about her, even before she starts talking."

MEGYN KELLY: "Trump & Vance handled it perfectly - total class. This “bishop” who apparently prefers we mutilate children in the name of gender ideology & allow young girls to get gang raped by illegals at our open S border, however, is a rude, ignorant, TDS afflicted hack."

SCOTT ADAMS: "Lesbian Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde chose to pander to the LGBT whose movement has been wrecked by trans mental illness. She’s the same B who trashed Trump for saving her historical Episcopal church from burning to the ground after Trump hating liberals set it on fire."

CHARLIE KIRK: "Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde is the Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Washington. She's the first woman to hold the position. She was given a great honor today, a chance to unify America around a Christian message at the dawn of a new administration. Instead, she disgraced herself with a lecture you'd hear on CNN or an episode of The View. What an embarrassment."

PAUL SPERRY: "FEC filings reveal Mariann Budde & family have given exclusively to Democrats and collectively contributed several thousand dollars to Kamala, Obama, Biden. While she claims to champion the poor - property records show she lives in a $2 million+ colonial mansion with 6 bedrooms and 4.5 bathrooms in a leafy DC neighborhood. Her church claims that it receives no operating support from the federal government, but it does get grants from the federally funded nonprofit National Trust for Historic Preservation. Her family funded George Soros, worked for OBAMA FOR AMERICA and with Jack Smith at the Hague."

ERIC METAXAS: "Exactly WHO is responsible for setting the trap of Pres Trump attending that ridiculous service to hear the preposterous "bishop" insult him and the American people? Can we get to the bottom of that one ASAP? Seriously. We need answers. Who???"

Did the hack Bishop know that Trump danced with the VILLAGE PEOPLE the night before his inauguration? Did they look scared?

Scott Bessent, Trump's nominee for Treasury Secretary, an openly gay man, defended Trump and wrote this today:

https://x.com/mirandadevine/status/1882134235462742052

PS: THIS IS WHAT I WAS WRITING YESTERDAY FOR MY NEWSLETTER WHEN SUBSTACK WENT DOWN SYSTEMWIDE. LOOK AT JD'S FACE.

I WOULD ENCOURAGE YOU TO SHARE THIS WITH YOUR PASTOR.

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saintsir4n · 3 months ago

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Could you do one where Brian knew he fell in love with Carson 💙💙

FALLIN’, DREAMIN’

IT was a gradual feeling. That was for sure. Between the kisses and touches, and whispers of sweet nothings, that’s where the feelings truly blossomed.

The first time Brian saw Carson was like a vivid dream — a fantasy he never knew he could have or even desire. The more he stared at her, the more he believed pink could become his favourite colour. Her smile was enough to make his heart flutter and her voice made her hang onto every word. And when he saw the car she drove he damn near stopped breathing.

Carson beating him was something he didn’t know could happen, let alone in a race he thought would be primarily against Dom. He was elated and turned on when she crossed the line seconds before Dom and him in his steaming car.

Next came their first dance, shortly after she defended him to the team. It was to a Tyrese song and she was shocked at how well he could handle her. Her curves glided perfectly in his hands which were caressed with care. Their hearts beat as one to the melody they were lost in.

Jealousy had always been a thing for Brian. He knew what he had with Carson was real even if his initial intentions weren’t. Johnny Tran wasn’t a threat but made sure the police bust made on his mansion was done by him especially. And there was Vince, who never hesitated to comment on their relationship, or him, damn near almost ruining his chances with Carson at every turn. But Brian always took pleasure in wiping his grin off his face.

And although lust and adoration drew him to Carson.

He was sure that love bound him to her.

It was uncontrollable and he accepted it the second he knew it was true.

He never questioned it even though it went against every principle of his job.

But Carson was worth every second he spent anxious that any moment his cover could be blown and the operation would be busted. She was worth more than his job, or even the freedom he risked just by getting more and more close to her.

Carson Baker was his love and he was hers — he was certain of it.

Feeling Brian’s intense gaze on her, Carson looked up from the paintbrush she held and turned toward him. He sat, arms crossed in the busy garage seemingly lost in his thoughts.

“What are you smilin’ at lover boy?” She teased, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.

Brian blinked quickly before he innocently shrugged, “Nothin’”

“Well since you’re lyin’, come and help me with this paint job.” She waved the paintbrush around without letting the contents drip onto her overalls.

“No please?” He rose a questioning brow as he got up, and strode over.

She stood up also, allowing a grin to break through her face when he towered over her.

Carson cheekily retorted, “If it was a question I would’ve said it.”

“Damn, now I know why you get called a brat,” Brian said, tutting and shaking his head at her.

“Only now?” She cocked her head to the side.

“Nah, but I don’t care, give me the brush Sonny.”

As she let the paintbrush drop into his hand, his lips grazed hers, causing her eyes to briefly flutter shut. It was a slow kiss at first, but gradually with every second, he poured more into it. It felt more than any of kiss they’d shared. More personal, more passionate, more…love?

Carson couldn’t be sure, but she wouldn’t say it, not now.

“What was that for?” She asked, with a small gasp once he pulled away, sporting a boyish smile.

Brian simply replied, “Just wanted to.”

She giggled, “Well give me another one.”

Preparing to do just that, they heard a voice call out behind them.

“Don’t give her another one!”

It was Jesse, who pretended to gag at the sight.

Carson groaned, “Shut up Jesse!”

——

hope you enjoy!

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hometoursandotherstuff · 1 year ago

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The Rinckel Mansion is an 1876 Victorian Italianate in Carson City, Nevada and is decorated nicely, except for the kitchen remodel. 4bds, 3ba. $2.4M.

This is the only photo of the entrance hall, which is a weird choice.

The sitting room is so fancy, isn't it? All of the original moldings and woodwork is intact and the professionally painted ceiling is amazing.

This is one of 2 dining rooms. At some point it was a bed & breakfast, and has since been maintained by the current owners. Isn't that a nice alcove in the front of the room?

This is another dining room. The two front rooms would typically be sitting rooms, and this would be the dining room.

The kitchen is industrial, unchanged from when it was a business. I don't like the cabinetry, except for the antique Hoosier cabinet.

This room, currently used as a home office, has a beautiful alcove with a starry wall and ceiling.

The 2nd fl. hall at the top of the stairs.

Love the alcoves in the rooms. This is lovely.

The bedrooms are spacious, but if it was a B&B, there are only 4 bds and not all of them have dedicated bathrooms.

And, this is bedroom #3.

Bedroom #4 is set up as a family room.

This shower room is kind of a disjointed reno.

And, bath #2 is down a side hall.

In the yard is a porch and a very large pergola.

9,583 sq. ft. lot with lots of parking on the sides.

#victorian italianate #victorian homes #houses #house tours #home tour

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changingplumbob · 4 months ago

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Foster Household: Chapter 9, Part 3

James: So this is Ariadne

Ariadne: Hi Mr Foster

Harvey: Please, call me Harvey. I’m so excited to finally meet you, James has been singing your praises

Ariadne: You have a relaxing aura

Harvey: Thank you, I don’t really know what that means but it sounds like a compliment. You like fishing?

Ariadne: I love the outdoors

Harvey: So do I! Well we have a bunch of basic stuff, and the fishing hut is right over there if you need anything special. Or you might just enjoy the sea. Either way it’d be great to have you in the fishing club

Carson walks down to the beach after his appointment and is going to catch up with his mum when he hears the worst sound in the world, the voice of his brother.

Reece: Where have you been loser

Carson: None of your damn business egghead

Kayleigh: Boys, calm down, I’m trying to paint

Reece: Whatever, you probably weren’t doing anything interesting anyway, you never do

Carson: Yeah well at least I don’t use my partner as a substitute to appearing interesting

Reece: I’m plenty interesting idiot

Carson: Numbskull

Kayleigh: Reece, why don’t you go fish with your dad. Carson, that teen over there would probably like some company

Reece: Teen over- oh is that your girlfriend? Shall I read your diary and find out? We'll be even then

Carson: Unlike you when I start dating someone I’ll introduce them to mum and dad, not sneak them upstairs like I’m ashamed of them

Reece: Knew you hadn’t kissed anyone yet

Carson: Shut up, like you kissed anyone before Samir

Reece: I could have if I wanted to, unlike you I’m attractive

Carson: Attractive to a pig maybe

Kayleigh: Enough boys, break it up. Carson, go. Reece, shoo

Trying to put his brother out of his mind Carson walked over to Ariadne who was gazing at the sea.

Carson: Uh... hi

Ariadne: Hey Carson, good to see you

Carson hadn’t expected her to be so warm, or remember his name really. Ariadne was the year below him at school and even though they had had some mixed classes he hadn’t figured he’d be memorable to her.

Ariadne: Since we’re not at school and around everyone I wanted to say thank you

Carson: Thank you? For what?

Ariadne smiled and Carson felt himself smiling back even though he wasn’t sure what she was happy about.

Ariadne: My first day at school. I was super nervous and told everyone I live with my dad’s in Willow Creek. Since your dad is friends with James you had to have known I was adopted

Carson: I did, or I do

Ariadne: Exactly. You could have outed me, told everyone I was adopted and that my dads aren’t my dads but you didn’t. It... well it meant a lot to me, to not have to have any of those conversations when I was trying to fit in

Carson: So do none of them know James and Alexander adopted you?

Ariadne: Roger and Scarlett do, they’ve been to my house. Well...

Carson: The mansion?

Ariadne: It’s crazy big! Who needs so much space? But anyway yeah, they know. But I do worry about others finding out

Carson: Ah, you mean Artemisia I presume

Ariadne: She’s so beautiful but so mean

Carson: Beautiful? I guess she’s not bad

Ariadne: I’m sure she has half the school fawning over her

Carson: Well I wouldn’t put myself in that half, especially not with you around

He does have to take a moment to look at the sand after that, he couldn’t bear it if she laughed at his futile flirting attempts.

Ariadne: You wouldn’t?

Carson: No. Would... would you be in that half?

Ariadne: Some days but... I think there’s more than one way to be beautiful. She’s not the only one at school I find cute

Carson: Who else do you find cute

Ariadne: Oh Carson, that would be telling

Ariadne’s phone buzzes and she pulls it out of her pocket.

Ariadne: *smiling* Roger. I mean... the text is from him. He’s sorting out details for tonight

Carson: Oh... You’re going to the dance with him?

Ariadne: Just as friends to get the discounted ticket price, my dads may be loaded but Alexander does like to save some simoleons when he can. Will I see you there?

Carson: I’m not much of a dancer

Ariadne: That’s okay, we could just sit and talk. I mean... you don’t have to talk to me obviously. You’ve got your own friends

Before Carson can respond Harvey calls for him, it’s almost time for him to go to scouts. Managing a quick goodbye he goes to help Kayleigh pack up her paints.

After making sure Carson caught the right ferry Harvey headed out on to the water. He hadn’t managed to catch much in the morning but hopefully the deep water would yield better results. Moving to Sulani was definitely the right choice for him, he loved time outside and snow impacted his ability to fish. He had no misconceptions, it was Kayleigh’s money that had gotten them this life. He just hoped to fill it with grandchildren soon.

Back inside Kayleigh had some visitors, her daughter Keira and her new wife Marta.

Keira: It’s good to see you mum

Kayleigh: I wasn’t expecting you two today, the BBQ isn’t until tomorrow

Marta: We know, we just missed you

Kayleigh: Oh thanks sweetie. What’s new with you two

Marta: Our neighbour had kittens but Keira won’t let us adopt one

Keira: You don’t want a kitten and an infant at the same time

Marta: But... kitten

Kayleigh: Are you denying my daughter in law furbabies?

Keira: Okay it’s not fair for you to both gang up on me. Any animal takes training and care, people think cats are no effort but you’ve got to look after them properly

Kayleigh: I suppose you are an expert

Keira: Damn right I am, I have the student loan to prove it

Kayleigh: We paid for your degree

Keira: I... I have the paper to prove it

Previous ... Next

#sims 4 #the sims #simblr #my sims #ts4 #active simblr #R0910 #HarveyFoster #JamesGoth #AriadneSterlingFromBakersimmer #ReeceFoster #CarsonFoster #KayleighFoster #KeiraRomero #MartaRomero

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fipindustries · 7 months ago

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claw/spy x family spouse swap

Loid Forger/Mia Hurst: they catch on the truth about the other one in about 10 minutes, but neither will admit they know the truth to the other so they get stuck in this really stupid cold war chicken game of who blinks first. Loid wants to use Mia's connections to the criminal world to get intel, Mia wants to find out everything about Loid's org just for the sake of having more tools in her arsenal and be better prepared. they never stop flawlessly performing the perfect little couple routine. in some ways Mia is actually more relaxed because she knows how to handle someone like loid and doesnt have to deal with the uncertainty of wether he is really in love with her or not.

the sad truth is that loid cant help but actually start getting a bit of a crush on her when he sees how effective, efficient, smart and strong operator she is.

now i see Mia and Ripley as a package since she kidnapped her way before meeting carson. which means ripley and anya would be sisters. anya is terrified of Mia, specially because when she reads her mind things are a bit more confusing than they usually are, which is actually really frustrating for Mia. Loid finds out that ripley is kidnapped and so he has to make a choice, does he do the right thing and return her to natalie? but that might draw way too much unwanted attention to his marriage. he asks fiona to quietly make natalie dissapear. what fiona didnt count on was a certain journalist being there to record it all...

Yor Forger/Carson Hurst: carson finds out about yor's actual work, at first yor is like "oh no, i have to kill him now because he found out the truth, and he was so hot too! :(" but then carson is like "no, actually im super into this, in fact can i join your little group? sounds fun". at first yor is super hesitant that her leader would even go for it but after five minutes talking to the guy carson immediatly charms his way into the assasin group. they are now a super duper hot awesome kickass assasin duo. Carson somehow manages to even charm Yuri into liking him.

tyr can be a dynamo of a kid but yor has the stregth and stamina to keep up with him, teaches him how to channel his boundless energy into martial arts.

one day they are assigned a new objective. David Calvacanti. when they are out there together scouting the terrain, figuring out the best approach to infiltrate into his mansion and kill him they see a young teenage girl trying to escape...

#claw #wildbow #spy x family

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months ago

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This day in history

THIS WEDNESDAY (October 23) at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, GEORGIA, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

#10yrsago Mercilessly pricking the bubbles of AI, Big Data, machine learning https://spectrum.ieee.org/machinelearning-maestro-michael-jordan-on-the-delusions-of-big-data-and-other-huge-engineering-efforts

#10yrsago American businesses devour themselves to enrich the 1% https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2014/10/goldman-makes-it-official-that-the-stock-market-is-manipulated-buybacks-drive-valuations.html

#10yrsago WATCH: top Scientologists heaping abuse on apostate https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EG70fhg0wL4

#5yrsago Griefer terrorizes baby by taking over their Nest babycam…again https://www.siliconvalley.com/2019/10/18/the-voice-from-our-nest-camera-threatened-to-steal-our-baby/

#5yrsago It’s dismayingly easy to make an app that turns a smart-speaker into a password-stealing listening device and sneak it past the manufacturer’s security checks https://arstechnica.com/information-technology/2019/10/alexa-and-google-home-abused-to-eavesdrop-and-phish-passwords/

#5yrsago A shrewd guess about the Haunted Mansion’s mysterious Squeaky Door Ghost https://longforgottenhauntedmansion.blogspot.com/2019/10/the-squeaky-door-ghost.html

#5yrsago Rep Katie Porter: an Elizabeth Warren protege and single mom who destroys bumbling, mediocre rich guys in Congressional hearings https://newrepublic.com/article/155268/house-representative-katie-porter-schools-ben-carson-orea-jamie-dimon

#5yrsago Haunted Mansion/Ikea mashup tee https://www.teepublic.com/t-shirt/4196890-haunted-mansion-ikea-instructions

#1yrago The internet's original sin https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/21/the-internets-original-sin/

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

#pluralistic

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velvetvexations · 1 month ago

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Blue Conrad is Not a Good Man

I thought I'd post the first ever story I wrote for what would eventually become my setting. This was originally a backstory piece for a character I was playing in a Trophy Dark game GM'd by the amazing and lovely tricksterkisses. It's no longer what I'd consider "canon" and I've retired from submitting it, but it still has some importance to me.

This is a historical horror piece. Reference is made to slavery and Native American genocide, but are not the focus. CW for gore, ableism, suicide, and implied sexual assault.

You are no doubt aware, dearest readers, of the assertion that Blue Conrad is not a good man. Even in the United States of America, the land I don’t think it controversial to say is the most favored by our divine Father, contrarians and iconoclasts bandy about whispers undermining the hope, unity, and strength that Conrad, the most spectacular of frontier heroes, inspires in all of us. However, knowing the high regards with which our readership adores him, we may shock you by unreservedly agreeing with that statement, for Blue Conrad is not a good man. He is the very definition of a great man! Anything less is a slander that must be stamped out, and for that purpose we have put together a short overview of a life larger than legend.

Of course, Blue Conrad shares this present century with several men of great renown, whom we all owe so much. James Bowie, Davy Crockett, Kit Carson – and yet they all pale in comparison to the truth of Blue Conrad’s life. We believe that by the end of this tale, you will understand why we rate Conrad above them all.

We will start by saying it is naught but fanciful imagination that began the rumor Conrad was hatched from a rattlesnake egg boiled in wolf’s blood. Alistair “Blue” Conrad was actually born in a small cabin in Arkansas six miles from the nearest town. His father, John Conrad, was a veteran of the US Army while his mother, Anwen Reese, was a Welsh immigrant. Shortly after Alistair’s birth, he was blessed with a sister whom they called Blodwen, and in the short time they had together they were a happy family.

Though his father had survived more close shaves with the reaper’s scythe than can be counted, the man tragically caught his death one winter when his family needed him the most. This led to Alistair, at fourteen summers, being sent off quite a ways to work as a hired hand on the estate of Ezekiel Scabbard, cousin to the local preacher. Scabbard was an unruly, ugly old cuss who had no patience for a child shipped to him by a relative he forgot existed, but workers were in short supply and with Conrad’s family days of travel away, the miser saw a situation he would be able to exploit. In this way Conrad would support his mother and sister, though he would never see them again after waving goodbye.

The farm work was hard, and Scabbard cruel, but young Alistair persevered as his he imagined his father did in battle. Shortly after his arrival, Scabbard fired the rancher to which Alistair was apprenticed, placing all the responsibilities upon the young boy. Though technically he was no pitiful slave like those who toiled in Scabbard’s fields, Conrad personally received none of his pay. It would be three years until Conrad discovered his family had perished the winter after his arrival to the ranch. Scabbard seemed to have forgotten the matter entirely. Indeed, it has been attested by a credible witness that at one point before his villainy was revealed to Conrad, Scabbard had been asked by the sweat-soaked, sun-baked youth about his family, and Scabbard seemed to truly not remember any such arrangement ever existed.

After the truth came out, one would expect Conrad to have burnt the place down, striking down those who stood in his way until at last he arrived at the heart of the mansion to put a bullet straight through the head of the ghastly old devil, if you’ll forgive my expression. But he did not. Conrad simply took the man’s finest horse and vanished into the night. Scabbard was outraged, of course, but with the hostilities between the North and South on the verge of spilling over, he had bigger things to worry about up until his shockingly brutal death in a slave rebellion.

Some say the horse’s name was Starchaser, Lightning Legs, or if the teller is particularly ostentatious, Swift King. Actually, Conrad himself cannot remember, for rather than the lifelong companion depicted in the dime novels, he had it sold under the table to a business rival of Scabbard’s almost immediately upon arriving in the next town over. As soon as the sale was complete, he took the next train as far away as possible and has never endeared himself to any beast enough to give it a name in the years since.

Taking up any odd job he could, Conrad continued to grow big and strong, and in his free time honed his instincts to become a hunter-trapper hat would have made the great Artemis swoon. His reputation would stay contained to those he worked alongside and the wives he was occasionally accused of having seduced if not for the night four men cornered him in a back alley.

With the war hot and burning, men who did not join either cause were seen as cowards, despite the need for work for which women could not substitute. Conrad, somewhat absurdly, seemed to have had no interest in the killing of men! The young ladies of in the town of Jewel, where Conrad worked as a logger for a time, couldn’t help but find this powerful young man, with such a sweet and sensitive soul, to be a welcome reprieve from the boorish drunks. Conrad had even less interest in romance than he did war, but the longing he left in every girl’s eyes was enough to rile the town into a frenzy.

That frenzy would come to a thrilling climax when four other loggers cornered him at the end of one work day as they all made their way back to the beds with itchy blankets and stiff pillows. One carried a gun, two others an ax, and the last a hammer that could crack a man’s skull open like a chocolate treat filled with cherry syrup. The men were furious with Conrad, who outshone them in every way one could imagine, taking his solitary and quiet nature as further insult.

Were he literate, he might have been a writer of great novels, or been a journalist to rival Mark Twain, but the specific nature of Conrad’s talents kept him a big fish in a small pond. Now the little fish were growing restless. The tellers of tales do not include that the men were had each drained quite a large amount of liquor, but this omission we will not blame the gossips for, as we have a monopoly on access to the only first-hand accounts other than Conrad himself.

You’re no doubt well-aware of what happened. Most tellings are more or less accurate. He tried to ignore them. He was shoved backwards. They charged. He cleared leather faster than a hummingbird could flap it’s wings. What mattered was the change it stirred in him, subtle but important. Conrad had not been shy to violence before, but it was only then that he understood it for all that it was and wasn’t. Before, he would occasionally brawl as young men often do, but no more. Drunken fools or not, they had almost killed him. From now on, when violence came to Alistair Conrad, it ended as soon as it had begun.

After that, Conrad put on the blue uniform and guarded gold shipments heading east to support the Union’s war effort. It was here that he was to gain his next brush with fame. On one cold night as they lay at camp, one of the other two men escorting the cart was shot clean through the head, spraying a splatter of brain and bone onto the freezing grass. Conrad was quickest to react, diving behind cover with his gun. The other remaining guard, Marion Lord, was right behind him, but a musket ball smashed into Lord’s kneecap and sent him face first into the ground just short of the cover Conrad had taken.

“I will never forget the sight,” Lord would write after the war, his injury having made him pathetically useless to do anything other than reminisce for profit, “of Alistair popping out from behind that rock with his rifle and firing shots one after another. From my position I could see him reloading, and the speed with which he did so took my breath away. Yet, watching him move so quickly, I knew it must be impossible for him to be hitting anything, and even had he all the time in the world, we were surrounded by darkness blacker than could be believed. It was hypnotizing to watch and briefly took my mind from the pain in my knee, but I stayed mired in fear until he stopped, calmly stepped out from behind the boulder, and after making sure no one had survived his one-man counter-battery, began to treat my wounds without worry of enemy fire.”

Conrad killed no less than nine men that day. What amazing acts of carnage he could have performed had the war lasted longer we can only imagine, for alas, it was over all too soon. Having nowhere to return to, Conrad soon took an assignment to Fort Poe in Christland, California where he was, to his immense confusion, considered a war hero by all he met. As you are reading this humble publication, we’re sure the first ‘Poe’ to come to your mind is the author of delightful tales that one can’t help but be tingled with joy by. In fact, the fort was named for Edgar Allen’s grandfather, a quartermaster who was of great value during the Revolutionary War. What an astounding coincidence! There could not have been a greater foreshadowing of fate.

This would lead to Alistair’s more well-known moniker, as Fort Poe sat next to Lake Pantheon, which is known far and wide as the California Cerulean for it’s famous blue hue. Although Conrad never sough to capitalize on his deeds, his fame spread quickly when a gift from the wealthy Lord family arrived with a letter to the local newspaper. The letter declared that Alistair Conrad had been Marion’s ‘angel in blue’, and that when he heard of his friend’s latest posting he made up his mind to include with five-hundred dollars a revolver whose steel had been created and beautifully blued by the famous Von Herder, a blind German rightly considered one of the greatest gunsmith to have lived thanks to the thousands of dead men to his credit. All at once the name “Blue” came as though it sprung up from the ground, and his fame was sealed.

Although he ever really wanted was to continue breathing another day, gossip and commercial fiction has worked hard to convince the world he was an adventurer who sought out women to seduce and buried treasure to give to the needy. Alistair Conrad was but a man of flesh and bone, but Blue Conrad was one of blood and thunder. Children everywhere read chronicles of his life unaware his name was the only non-fictional element, with the exception of some that state 'Blue' as the one given at birth. Boys wanted to be just like him. Girls, meanwhile, promised themselves they’d never settle for a man lesser than the one described in those cheap and occasionally borderline pornographic booklets.

One fact that has never before been recorded in print is that Blue Conrad was married, for a short while, to a young Native woman who had taken the Christian name Sarah. She’d lived nearby, and after Blue left the army, he moved her to the nearby settlement that sat next to the lake and they were married. We have not, unfortunately, been able to interview her ourselves, as she was put beyond our reach long ago when she died in a raid by Natives that took with it the lives of both Fort Poe and the neighboring settlement in their entirety.

Only Conrad was spared that faithful day, for he had been out hunting. When he discovered what had happen, he went positively mad with sorrow, guilt, and most of all, a burning anger. I can only lament the misfortune that none of this publication’s handsomely talented artists were there to capture the scene in all it’s details. Conrad surely knew he hadn’t the slightest hope of finding his wife alive the second he saw the bodies left to rot in the street, but it was only upon finding Sarah’s still corpse that his mind truly snapped in two. With but the pull of a switch, Blue Conrad transformed into an inhuman machine of a man, for what shreds of his heart had survived the long years since his father’s death had been skewered by the same arrow that caught his wife.

When he arrived at a nearby logging camp, they considered retribution to be common sense, the kind of rage they all had for the senseless slaying of their kin, but they could not know the depths of fury that whirled in Blue Conrad like a twister of hellfire. Despite their miming of indignation, they treated the violence they visited on a quite helpless and completely unrelated tribe to be little more than a fun diversion, an afternoon spent gladly balancing the scales of life and death as Manifest Destiny commanded.

It was not so for Blue Conrad, who always killed dispassionately in the past simply to end a threat. From a distance that would have seemed as true as ever, for he crossed the bloodied ground like a man built from clockwork. To look him in the eyes, however, would reveal to you the tempest in his soul that drove him to perform such obscenely gorgeous violence. It didn’t matter that they were not the Natives the revenge had been intended for. Blue himself suspected something was amiss with the identification of their targets, but he let the suspicion die under the weight of his wrath.

That tempest did not leave him for quite some time, the sun rising and setting on a man who felt half-alive, doing the bare minimum to continue his heart’s beating. No words were spared for anyone, especially not those who came seeking a frontier celebrity. The most that could be gotten out of the great Blue Conrad was a stare that never failed to communicate the sincere warning that he would blow their brains into a puddle of pink soup if they didn’t leave him be.

That changed at last when a man by the name of Marcus Pike came to the house Conrad built next to Lake Pantheon, where he spent his years as the only living human for miles. The man was begging for help. Pike’s bride had been taken by outlaws on the day of their wedding, and the ransom was ruinous. He knew that only Blue Conrad could save her.

Indeed, it seemed so much like the plot of one of those grotesque little novels that it feels strange to call it the truth, and yet it really happened, and the situation had a quite curious effect on Conrad. Color came rushing back to his face as he heard Pike’s story. The tempest was gone, or at least finally beginning to die. Now there was once again a twinkle in his eye that had vanished the day he lost his wife. Conrad always despised the fame that hounded him, the lies, the romantic words written by men who had never seen a man die.

Now it gave him purpose.

The journey was effortless, for he knew the area well enough to have a good idea of where a gang of outlaws would wish to hide, and the details given by Pike narrowed it down to a gulch only a day’s ride away. With genuine interest, he pressed the groom to tell him of his bride, and the man joked that if Conrad wanted her for himself, it would not be difficult for such a hero to steal his love away from him.

“I swear, I wouldn’t!” Conrad laughed. “But we might die, and I’d like to know what I was dying for. Now that ain’t so much to ask, is it?”

“No, I suppose not!” Marcus Pike laughed in turn, and he told Conrad of her golden hair, her pale skin, her bright blue eyes. So much of her was unlike Sarah, and yet the love between her and her husband-to-be was so familiar that it brought tears to his eyes. You may not believe it, but it’s true. Blue Conrad was crying. Not weeping like a woman or wailing like an infant, but at last he could feel his spirit returning to a fraction of warmth he believed forever lost to him.

The next morning, Conrad and Pike made their move. There was only five outlaws. One was killed as he slept on sentry duty, two more were struck down in the gunfight that followed, and with the odds evened out and hearing it who it was they exchanged bullets with, the last two put down their guns and consented to being tied with rope. It was a trivial exercise.

Despite the quick and thorough victory, however, spoils were not as they had hoped. Inside one of the tents, they found the man’s wife, cold and dead, chained by the ankles. Her clothes were torn to shreds, she was covered in bruises, and a knife was buried in her chest

The next thing Conrad knew, Marcus Pike was pulling him from the badly beaten outlaws, still tied up and unable to resist the savage assault he had been delivering to the now almost unrecognizable men.

“Look man, my God! She plunged the knife into her own heart!” Pike shouted. “She killed herself! The faithless whore ended her own life, in shame for her sins with these criminals! Were we married she would have ruined my name!”

There was a sickening crack then. A few, actually, as Pike’s jaw had come unhinged, and teeth could be seen streaking through the air trailing a cloud of blood and saliva. Those two remaining outlaws had given up for fear of Blue Conrad. Neither could help but think they had not known what true fear was, let alone true fear of Blue Conrad, until they watched the dashing hero put his fist nearly clean through his friend’s face and with the new target of his fury laid out on his back delivered blows that could be compared to an elephant’s stomping foot.

Soon Pike’s eyes were pounded to uselessness, and the pain was too overwhelming to think coherently, but the very air he breathed was thick with hatred that spoke to him of his immanent and very painful demise. He could do nothing as he was bound the same as the criminals, and all three could only watch in horror as Conrad went to acquire firewood.

Oh, readers, how I wish I could have seen it. Just as Conrad drew his matches, the sky filled with dark clouds thick with rain. It was as if He Who Cast Our Father Out were pleading for Conrad to reconsider and show mercy, but Conrad simply waited out that grotesque bastard they call 'God' and sat staring at them until the rain had cleared, the men falling into deeper panic as his gaze bored into them.

After the deed was done, Conrad bade his horse to run in any direction it wished, and it did, into oblivion for all he cared. We do not know where he will end up in the short term, but we can only hope, friends, fellows, and Lords of Hell, that the pain and misery follows. As for where he will end up at the end of it all? Well, I would suggest you begin sharpening your knives now. We have quite the feast to look forward to, far exceeding the pitiful spirits he’s fed to us with every blackguard who died at his hand.

In conclusion, if you do not think Blue Conrad is a great man, rich with sin to wet our beaks, simply think back to all that I’ve written here, and the growling of your stomach will surely change your mind.

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Blue Conrad was heavily based on the real life Kit Carson, who really did lead the massacre of a tribe unrelated to the crime that instigated it. On another occasion, he set out to rescue a woman, only to find her captors had already killed her, and that she carried with her a dime novel of his fictionalized adventures when she died.

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