#coal royalties

[townpostin]

Hemant Soren: Tribals Stronger Amid Challenges, Never Compromise Honor

CM hints at jail term, vows to strengthen Jharkhand despite obstacles Key Points: • Soren pays homage to Gua firing martyrs, hails tribal resilience • CM alleges conspiracy, claims Rs 1.36 lakh crore coal royalty due • Government plans Rs 1 lakh annual aid for households, launches 96 schemes JAMSHEDPUR – Chief Minister Hemant Soren emphasized tribal resilience and hinted at political challenges…

[fraugwinska]

Follow up idea to the person who suggested that lovely birthday doodle request,, Reader who can draw proficiently as a hobby and often sketches folks at the hotel in their sketch book. Alastor is a bit offended that no matter what it seems as though he’s no where in this book, when they retire for the night he brings it up almost as if he’s jealous and they laugh at him. He’s upset because now he feels as though they are making fun of him until they retrieve another book and turns out they draw him in privacy (he’s so special he has his own book) It’s so cute too theres little heart doodles and them holding hands everywhere

Darling, how can I say no to 1) you *handheart* and 2) to such a cute pürompt? Make way, guys, gals and non-binary pals, here comes the fluff-queen!

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Pictures of You

“ME NEXT! ME NEXT!” You tugged your sketchbook out of Niffty's small but surprisingly strong fingers. The little demon giggled and almost fell from your shoulder, making you laugh.

“Niff, any more doodles of you and I'd have to pay you royalties. Also, Angel asked first.”

You grinned, turning another page of the thick binder to an empty canvas and twirled the coal pen in your hand. Husk had just involuntarily changed his sleeping position from 'face in hands' to 'face on counter', groaning at the impact, so you wanted to start anew. Niffty resumed to braid your hair – you often let her just do what she wanted, she had a knack for it anyways – and huffed. “You only want to draw him because he can do impossible poses.” “Well, he is flexible.”

“Comes with the job, sweet cheeks.” Angel, who had entered through the door, grinned at you, taking his pink heart-shaped sunglasses off while he walked behind you, leaning over your shoulder. “Aw, toots, you really are talented, Husky looks like a snack there. Can I have that when 'ya done?”

“Have what, my effeminate fellow?” Angel jumped as Alastor materialized behind him without warning, releasing a startled 'Jesus Christ on a cracker!' while his lower set of arms clung onto your tensed shoulders. The radio demon laughed heartily, bending over slightly to look past Angel's head. He craned his neck and reached with his cane, forcing you to lean sideways so he could examine what you were drawing.

You flinched at the contact with the strangely warm metal, but didn't look up from the page. You only gripped the black coal tighter, feeling it beginning to crack. Alastor hummed in what sounded almost fond praise, giving a brief tap to Husk's shape on the paper.

"Marvelous! What a talent you have." he proclaimed. "Although I have to ask again, my dear, how come you never draw me? Surely I could..."

You lifted a finger, face scrunched up in concentration and shook your head, eyes firmly on the almost finished sketch. Alastor clicked his tongue in a displeased way, clawed fingers impatiently tapping the microphone at the end of his cane.

"Really, dearest. I have a great interest for-"

"Hold on!"

"-a unique idea of the possibilities-"

"Done!"

As you finished, you stretched your cramped hand, setting down the charcoal on the armrest of the red plush sofa and rubbing your fingers to get rid of the black stains. You ripped the paper out of the sketchbook and handed it to Angel, carefully avoiding Alastors burning eyes and ignoring the angry static pops sizzling on your skin.

"There you go, Ange. You can lock it in with a little coat of hairspray, otherwise it will smudge easily."

You hastily stood up, letting Niffty tumble down your back onto the sofa with a wild giggle while you quickly assembled your things. You saw Alastor open his mouth and interrupted whatever speech he might've wanted to deliver you, your heart racing and mouth unusually dry.

"Oh, would you look at the time, I promised Charlie to get laundry done by the evening, I better get going. Maybe another time, yeah? Okay, bye!"

You were already through the door by the time he had registered you leaving, mouth half-open and ready to protest against whatever injustice he felt you had done him. His eyebrow twitched slightly at your retreating figure, eyes flickering between the corner you disappeared around and Angel Dust, the latter laughing mockingly at the deer.

"Aw shucks, failing again, deer daddy? What is it now, the fifth time she blew 'ya off?"

"The seventh.", Niffty corrects him, scratching on the black spot where you had set the charcoal in between your work. Alastor gave her a sour expression, while Angel leaned back, eyeing the sketch of his subject of interest with lovingly.

"Maybe she took 'ya by heart, Smiles. Don't 'ya always say 'ya got a face for radio only?"

***

Alastor was fuming.

Everyone was in that damn book, everyone. And yet, he was nowhere in it to be found.

In his opinion he was far superior in beauty of aesthetics then, for example, Angel Dust, or Vaggie. Hell, Husk had even made an entry, and all he did was lay around and drink himself into oblivion. Why would you take the time to sketch these nobodies in detail instead of him? Was he that unimportant to you, did you deem him that unworthy? Or was this your subtle way of making fun of his appearance, his laughable predicament of being a predator in a prey body?

He thought he'd have been generous enough not to reprimand you, or destroy that damned book all together after all this time. It was your luck that he had developed a strange fondness of you. Alastor only ever bothered himself with a few souls since his arrival in hell, and his encounter with you was a happy coincidence indeed. You were so much less annoying, so much more quiet and respectful than most of the demons around him, with your charcoal pen behind your ear and a keen eye for beautiful things that you turned into artworks like it was your second nature.

And even though you've always seemed to take a liking to him, his patient questions for a sketch, a portrait or just anything of him was met by you with dismissiveness, awkward excuses or outright evading, only ever drawing other sinners, even the cursed piglet Angel called a pet. But never, never him.

This couldn't go on any longer. He would talk to you about it, and either you would draw him willingly or you would draw nothing at all.

Your room was located only three corridors down his own suite, right across of a broken down door. Despite the late hour you had left the door cracked open, music faintly streaming through it along the orange light of your desk lamp. Which meant you were still awake. Still working. Still drawing.

The door made no sound when he pushed it open, carefully peeking his head inside. He was right, your back was hunched over your desk, completely lost in your work while your voice hummed along with the little melody from the radio.

The radio he had gifted you. He snapped his fingers and the music screeched loudly before coming to a stop, the radio dying instantly and making you jump in your seat.

"JESUS!" You whipped your head around, clutching your heart. He gave his best charming smile, red eyes narrowing in on you.

"No dear, it's just me." he smiled maliciously and closed the door behind him, it clicking ominously shut. Locked. You laughed awkwardly, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face and hastily closed the thick, black sketchbook on the desk shut, a different one than the one from before. A new one. Another cursed one without him in it, surely.

"Haha, thank satan, I'm not dressed to meet the son of god." you quibbed, avoiding his gaze and twirling your pencil, something you always did when you were nervous.

He didn't join into your joke, instead he walked over to your dresser, where the filled sketchbook from before laid. Open, showing a detailed drawing of Keekee stretching in front of the fireplace. The blasted cat was the last straw.

"Why," Alastor spoke sharply, barely registering his antlers sprouting in angry cracks, "are there any and every sinners and creatures depicted in that... doggone, ridiculous thing?".

His words were spat with so much anger he missed your scared and confused look when you pushed your chair back, almost tripping and scrambling to get away. "What? Alastor, I..."

He hit the book once, almost tearing the thick parchment. "And not one mention of me? You have no idea how utterly vexing and insulting it is to feel ignored, or rather unnoted! What did I do, oh do tell, dear, that makes you think of me so below you that you just outright forget my existence?!"

Again, he hit the book, feeling it starting to rip from the amount of pent up frustration tightening his grip. But it did feel good, immensely so, to take it out on the damn thing he would have shredded weeks ago, if you didn't enjoy it so much.

"N-Nothing, you really don't... you don't understand...", you laughed nervously, eyes too pleading, too soft for his liking, as if you mocked him or worse: Pitied him. The thought alone fueled his anger further.

"Then I advise you to make me understand, my darling.", he growled, shoes scratching on the wooden floors with each step as he neared you, pressing you against the desk. "Because otherwise, I have no inhibitions to incinerate every single one of these god damn..."

"I draw you all the time. In your own book."

You grabbed the sketch book from the desk and thrust it in his face, spouting more nonsense with teary eyes that went deaf through his ears, only glaring at the cover and then opening it, ready for anything.

Nothing. Nothing but him.

There was no mention of anyone else.

There was nothing but him. His face. Portraits, stills, sketches, whole sceneries, doodles even.

Pages and pages full of his own features, his eyes looking back at him, so carefully captured in coal lines that his head reeled.

There he was, walking in long strides through the lobby, hair perfect and suit straight, the drawing so detailed it could've been a photography. On the other side was a picture of him, his eyes narrowed, showing no emotion as he stared down at the hotel papers in his hand. The next page, he was captured in a fight with that buffoon Sir Pentious, his is mouth cracked in an evil smile, claws stretched and ready to snap the snakes' airship in half.

And ever in between those artworks: Little doodles, as if drawn with an absent mind, of him and you. Holding hands. Embracing each other. Laughing together. Gazing into each others eyes. Silly hearts all around them.

Alastor almost dropped the book and the shakily uttered your name, for once truly at a loss for words.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Alastor...", he finally heard your muttering, voice trembling with tears. "I didn't know how... I was just... so... so embarrassed, and..."

Embarrassed. The absolute absurdity of it all.

Here he had been, worried you found him beneath the beauty you held in such esteem, wounded even so much as to bring out this unjustified anger. The fool he was. He was an idiot to have not considered the other possible explanations for your reticence.

Slowly, carefully, as if you'd spook and run should he move too fast, Alastor wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, still holding the book safely in his hand, pressing it into your back. At his will, his shadow lifted a hand and turned the radio on once again, a low hum resounding from the speakers as the soothing, quiet music continued.

"Mon cœur, the unnecessary pain you caused us both. And yet, I'm the one who has to apologize.", he said with an honesty he rarely spoke with. "We're both, evidently, quite hopeless. No use in keeping these feelings and words unsaid any longer then, hm? Can you forgive this old fool?"

You stared at him bewildered, at a loss for words yourself, before a relieved smile cracked your worried frown. Shiny tear streaks were running over your reddening cheeks, he wiped them off your face with a soft swipe of his thumb.

"Of course... As long as I can continue drawing you." You chuckled and pushed your face into his chest, Alastor was more than certain to hide the flush of your cheeks. He chuckled, gripping the book in his hands tighter as he buried his nose in your hair. You smelled like paper, paint and charcoal. And underneath it all lingered the scent of something new, yet familiar. Something... very much like him.

"Draw the both of us like this to perfection, darling, and that would be a deal worth to agree on."

[dovesdreaming]

A deal with a pirate

Summary: You and Harry fake date so that he can come to Auradon and you can show everyone you’re still a villain kid. Though maybe this deal got blurred when Harry became so charming.

A/N- sorry about not posting for a while works been giving me way too many extra hours and then my childhood 1D heart was broken. Will try to post more again!

Requested

Masterlist

-

Auradon had always been a place of glittering sunlight, lush gardens, and chirping birds, a world far removed from the shadows of the Isle of the Lost. The moment you stepped foot here, you felt the weight of its purity pressing down on you. But no matter how radiant the kingdom of Auradon was, there was always room for a little mischief, and as the daughter of Yzma, you knew how to find it. You had been here for a few months now, blending in among the children of royalty and reformed villains. But despite the perfect smiles and lessons on "goodness" you'd learned one important lesson: everyone had a price. That was the reason you found yourself in a small, forgotten courtyard behind the palace, waiting for someone who had no business being in Auradon.

Harry Hook. The infamous son of Captain Hook, complete with his devilish grin, coal-lined eyes, and ever-present hook hanging at his side, strolled toward you like he owned the place. His swagger never ceased to amaze you. He was, after all, a pirate and pirates rarely walked anywhere. They strutted. "Didn't think you'd be the type to call for help, love" he drawled, voice thick with his Isle accent as he approached. The teasing smirk playing on his lips was all too familiar. You crossed your arms, unfazed. "I'm not asking for help, Hook. It's business”.

Harry tilted his head, his ocean-blue eyes narrowing with curiosity. "Business, eh? And what's a prim and proper Auradon girl like you need from the likes of me?" You huffed, rolling your eyes. "I need a favor. A small one. You pretend to date me, just for a little while”.

That caught his attention. His brows shot up, and he leaned in slightly. "Aye? Now, why would you need a pirate boyfriend? Tryin' to stir up a little trouble, are ye?" You resisted the urge to snap back. Harry loved to push buttons, and you couldn’t afford to lose your cool, not yet. "I need people to think I’m not falling in line with the 'Auradon way' too much. They're starting to suspect I’m actually trying to be good”. "And you’re not?" Harry quirked an eyebrow, clearly amused. You smirked. "Let's just say my mother would roll over in her grave if she knew I was doing anything without an ulterior motive”. Harry let out a low chuckle. "Yzma's daughter. Of course. But what’s in it for me? I don’t fake date for free, love”.

You'd expected this. "You help me, and I’ll help you get to Auradon permanently. You’ve always wanted off that miserable Isle, right?" His eyes sparkled with interest, though he tried to hide it with another smirk. "Auradon, eh? And how are you plannin' to pull that off? They barely let me in for school events, and even then, it's like I'm smuggling treasure just to set foot here”. You shifted your weight, the familiar scheming instincts kicking in. "I’ve been working with some of the royals, doing a bit of undercover work. If you’re my 'boyfriend,' I can convince them you’re reformed. You know, good influence and all that. It’s only temporary, but if it works, you’ll have a shot at staying in Auradon for good”. Harry was quiet for a moment, studying you. His gaze was sharp, calculating. It was one thing to make a deal with a pirate, but it was another to trust one. He had to see the benefits for himself and he clearly did.

He flashed you a grin, all teeth and mischief. "Alright, darling. You’ve got yourself a deal. But I’ll warn ye… I don’t do anything halfway. If we’re gonna convince the royals, we’ll have to make it look real. Very real”. You swallowed, sensing the challenge in his tone but refusing to back down. "I can handle it. Can you?" Harry’s smirk widened. "Oh, I think you’ll find I’m more than capable”.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of whispered conversations, stolen glances, and staged rendezvous that started to feel a little too convincing. It was all part of the act, you told yourself. The long walks around the palace grounds, the way Harry would casually sling his arm around your shoulders in front of everyone, or how he'd wink at you across the dining hall when the Auradon kids were watching, it was all just a game. Except, sometimes, it didn’t feel like a game. One afternoon, while sitting on a bench in the palace gardens, away from prying eyes, you turned to Harry, trying to keep your tone casual. "You’re really laying it on thick, you know that?"

Harry leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head, looking as relaxed as ever. "That's the point, love. We're supposed to be convincing, aren't we?" You shot him a look. "Yeah, but I didn’t expect you to be so…" He leaned forward, smirking. "Charming?" You glared at him, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed you. "Annoying”. He laughed, and the sound was warm, almost infectious. "Aye, well, if I’m annoying, you’re the one who’s letting me. Seems to me like you’re enjoying this more than you care to admit”. You opened your mouth to argue, but something about the way his eyes sparkled with mischief, and something deeper, made the words die in your throat. Instead, you looked away, your heart pounding. "Don’t get too cocky, Hook. It’s still just a deal”.

Harry was quiet for a moment, the teasing edge in his voice softening. "Aye… a deal. But maybe it doesn't have to stay that way”. You froze, slowly turning back to him. His expression was serious now, the playful mask gone. For the first time, you saw vulnerability in his eyes something real beneath the pirate swagger. Your heart skipped a beat. This was Harry Hook, the son of one of the most dangerous villains in history. And yet, sitting here in the gardens of Auradon, he wasn’t the hardened pirate or the ruthless flirt. He was just a boy who wanted something more.

Before you could respond, Harry stood, stretching his arms above his head, the grin returning to his face like a shield. "Well, darling, we’ve got a party to attend tonight, and if we’re gonna keep up appearances, I suggest we make quite the entrance”. He held out his hand to you, and after a brief hesitation, you took it. Maybe this deal was becoming more complicated than you’d intended. But then again, deals with pirates usually did.

[zuko-always-lies]

Where did the money for Zuko's quest for the Avatar come from?

So Zuko got burned and banished and told that he had to find the Avatar to return home.

But the thing is that Zuko got a ship. Sure, it was an smaller, probably older ship, but it still represents a lot of value. And it has all sorts of running costs associated with it: coal, ammo for the trebuchets, feed for the war rhinos, spare parts, major repairs for whenever Avatar crashes it into an iceberg, etc. And then there's the crew. They need to be recruited or assigned somehow, replaced if there are deaths or desertions, fed, and paid. All of this costs a lot of money.

And then there's the fact that even beyond that, Book 1 Zuko and Iroh never seem to be short on money. They have plenty of fine food, Iroh can buy whatever he wants at the market, and Zuko even promises June "Iroh's weight in gold" if she helps capture Aang. All of this suggests that there's some substantial financial power behind Zuko.

Where is this money coming from? I see four main possibilities:

Zuko is being funded by the Fire Nation government, as part of the Fire Nation Navy. If this is true, this probably means that Ozai OK'd this government money going to his banished son. Note that the very much non-canon "Zuko's Story" comic (it was made in association with the much hated movie) has Azula be the one who interceded with Ozai and convinced him to give Zuko a ship.

As a prince, even a banished one, Zuko has access to some money, property, or income in his own name as part of his birthright, and this money is going to fund Zuko's expedition even with Zuko in exile. Note that this would mean that Ozai didn't bother to or perhaps want to strip Zuko of all his royal privileges.

Iroh has access to wealth, property, and income in his own name as a royal prince and as the former crown prince, and he's using to it fund the expedition.

Azula has access to some money or income in her own name due to being royalty, and she's using it to fund Zuko's quest. I think this is by far the least likely possibility, but it would also be objectively the funniest one if it were true.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

For my fellow Albertan's. https://www.thealbertan.com/mountain-view-county-news/coal-mining-reversal-a-double-betrayal-says-mountain-view-county-resident-10219289

[danibee33]

The Queen’s Guard

*COD medieval au - Simon Riley x reader

cw: arranged marriage, dark themes, attempted sa & non-graphic sa but pls *read at your own discretion*, gore/violence, sexual themes, etc.

word count: 1.1k

“Again.”

You can’t help but to flinch at the sound of swords being drawn; it rings in your ears, echos in the recesses of your brain. The piercing, metallic clangs resound throughout the room-

How long had you been here, anyway? Judging from the sunlight that peers through the high transom windows, its golden rays giving the great hall an ethereal sort of glow, it must be nearing time for dinner-

“I’ve seen enough, thank you.”

With a dismissive wave, you rise from the bronze throne and turn on your heel, eyes focused straight ahead, fixated on the intricate carvings in the doors, your escape just within reach-

“Your Grace..”

General Leon’s voice is laced with exasperation and warning, and your long history with him is the only reason you halt, your handmaid nearly bumping into you as you turn again- the young woman struggling to rearrange the ridiculous train on your gown as the man speaks,

“You cannot continue on without a Queen’s Guard- His Grace demands the position be filled.”

Oh, of course. How thoughtful of your kind husband. The husband who only sees you when the physicians deem you fertile enough to produce an heir. The husband who you’re not even sure could pick your face in a crowd because he only ever fucks you from behind, your face pushed down into the animal furs beneath you.

The husband who killed your last guard, gods rest his soul.

Yes, I’m sure he’s very concerned for my safety..

You give a heavy sigh, fighting the urge to roll your eyes as you feel the placating smile tug at your lips; the one you’re so, so good at. The practiced smile that puts everyone in the room at ease, the one you’ve perfected in your relatively short existence of being groomed for this very life.

The life everyone dreams of, a life of royalty, of the highest privilege and power- how little they truly know.

“Of course, please, let us meet the next one then.”

Taking your place upon the throne once again, you sit properly, prim and demure, just like you were taught. The very picture of perfection in your emerald colored silks, not a single hair out of place-

Yet, inside, you were wasting away, your thoughts boiling and raging, your anger smoldering just under the surface, like a vein of coal in the earth that’s been lit aflame- the embers never dying, but never able to turn into the inferno they so wishe to be.

You don’t bother to spare your gaze when the doors open with a low groan, the quiet footfalls that enter the space only really given away by the shifting of chainmail and armor.

They’re confident strides, you notice- long and steady, and without even seeing him yet, you can feel the energy shift around you, his presence seeming to fill every available void,

“Ser Simon Riley, Your Grace.”

With one look, you’re utterly struck by the imposing man walking towards you- shoulders and hips swaying with each deliberate step, left hand resting lazily on the hilt of his long-sword.

His armor plates are dark, obsidian in hue, so different from the usual flashy silver you see everywhere you look. He is a looming shadow in front of you, somehow as wide as he is tall, if that were possible- and his eyes. The skin around them have been smudged with kohl, making the mottled amber of his irises look preternatural, his unmoving gaze entirely focused on you, even when he bows,

“Your Majesty.”

Your mind screams danger, much like it would if a fully grown wolf had just sauntered through the doors, looking for its next meal- and yet, for as much fear as he inspires, there’s something that draws you in- like a siren singing to sailors lost at sea.

Returning his gesture, you gently nod, holding his eyes until the General calls him back to assume a fighting stance; and even then, you swear you see his head tilt just so, just enough to flash you an arrogant look as the guard takes his place across from him. Ser Simon must easily stand a head and a half taller than the other man, you think, his figure even more impressive than it was before.

The men exchange nods before drawing swords, their dance beginning the same as all the others, assessing and calculating each other until the guard makes the first move-

The heavy whoosh of his blade is dodged with little effort, the giant wraith of a man moving far faster than any of you expected. He gracefully ducks under the other’s still outstretched arm, placing himself in the perfect position to swing his own sword towards his opponent's exposed neck- a maneuver surely meant to behead if this were anything other than a mock duel.

“Reset-”

“No.” You stand abruptly, stepping down from the throne much to your own surprise, “Ser Simon, what experience do you have as a Royal Guard?”

“Your Grace, this is-”

With a raised hand, you quiet the General, watching the mysterious knight sheath his sword once more, bowing again as he faces you,

“None, Your Majesty.”

Well, at least he’s honest.

“What experience do you have then?”

His head tilts to the side, and you watch the other guards tense when he takes a single step closer, those damned eyes gleaming down at you with a hunger you’ve never quite seen before,

“Battle, Your Grace. I’ve seen far more than most.”

This time, it’s you moving towards him, and when you step closer, the Kingsguard follows suit, though it seems nothing goes unnoticed by the towering specter.

“Well, Ser, I do not go into battle.. You might be better suited for my husband’s army, no?”

You watch the very corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, his gaze narrowing in amusement, and you’re positive you would see a devilish smile on his lips if he removed the helmet,

“I might.” He says flippantly, broad shoulders shrugging as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, “But, I came here to serve you, My Queen.”

A deep and burning chill blooms in your core at his words and the resolute way he says them; it lights every nerve on fire, every cell and molecule, every atom in your being vibrating at a frequency you’ve never felt as the title rolls off his gilded tongue.

No, you’ve never met a man quite like this, and part of you questions if he truly is just a man at all- because no man has ever felt like this, no man has ever been able to pick you apart so quickly, make you feel bare with just his gaze alone.

He terrifies you as much as he excites you, and oh, how you’ve longed to feel something other than loathing, and boredom.

There is nothing practiced or placating about the smirk on your lips now as you nod toward your General, your handmaid once again adjusting the cumbersome fabric of your gown as you move forward-

“Well, you’ve gotten your wish, Ser Simon.” You coo as you breeze past him without a parting glance, “General Leon, make sure my guard is taken to his new quarters, will you?”

They fall into a sweeping bow as you exit, a quiet acknowledgement being the last thing you hear before the deep pulsing of your own heartbeat fills your ears.

What in the seven hells have I done..

[chapter 2 >>>]

[catherinetheprincessofwales]

 Baronet -> Coal-miners -> Royalty  

“A time may yet come, perchance, when a descendant of one of these simple artizans may arise, not unworthy of the Conyers' ancient renown; and it will be a gratifying discovery to some future genealogist, when he succeeds in tracing in the quarterings of such a descendant the unsullied bearing of Conyers of Durham." Sir Bernard Burke, 1861.

In 1861 the genealogist and publisher of Burke’s Peerage Sir Bernard Burke, in his book "Vicissitudes of Families", dedicated a chapter to the “The Fall of Conyers" which concludes with the following: "Magni stat nominis umbra! The poor Baronet left three daughters, married in very humble life: Jane, to William Hardy; Elizabeth, to Joseph Hutchinson; and Dorothy, to Joseph Barker, all working men in the little town of Chester-le-Street. A time may yet come, perchance, when a descendant of one of these simple artizans may arise, not unworthy of the Conyers' ancient renown; and it will be a gratifying discovery to some future genealogist, when he succeeds in tracing in the quarterings of such a descendant the unsullied bearing of Conyers of Durham."

Sir Thomas Conyers, was the 9th and last Baronet Conyers of Horden Hall. While a gentleman at birth, he was reduced to poverty and resided at the Durham Workhouse. His pride made him reject financial aid from his distant relatives, among them his second cousin Mary Eleanor Bowes, Countess of Strathmore, whose funeral he attended at Westminster Abbey in 1800. At the time she was one of the wealthiest women in England and is an ancestor of Elizabeth Bowes-Lyons, the late Queen Mother.

His later years were made somewhat more comfortable at the aid of another distant cousin, George Lumley-Saunderson, the 5th Earl of Scarborough who provided him with a small house. Sir Thomas died a pauper on 15 April 1810. His surviving children, three daughters had married working men in the little town of Chester-le-Street, County Durham. As if from a Thomas Hardy novel, his daughter Jane married a man named William Hardy. 

For five generations Sir Thomas Conyers descendants would work as labourers, and often in coal mines once owned by distant ancestors and now owned by the Bowes-Lyon family. By the sixth generation his descendant Robert Harrison, a carpenter left his family still working in the coal mines to seek opportunities in London. There he married and had a daughter, Dorothy who married a builder named Ronald Goldsmith. 

The early years of Dorothy and Ronald’s marriage and their children's upbringing were spent in a comfortable council house, providing the security needed to buy their own home. Their daughter, Carole, became a flight attendant and married a young flight dispatcher, Michael. They settled in Berkshire and spent a few years in Jordan, working for British Airways, before returning to Berkshire, where Carole started her own business at her kitchen table. 

Almost ten generations and 201 years after Sir Thomas Conyers died a pauper, his descendant Catherine Middleton married Prince William of Wales on 29 April 2011. 

Family Line 

Sir Thomas Conyers 9th Bt. Conyers of Horden (drawing) m. Isabel Lambton

Jane Conyers of Chester Le Street, County Durham m. William Hardy of

Jane Hardy of Biddick, County Durham m. James Liddell

Anthony Liddell of Little Lumley, County Durham m. Martha Stephenson 

Jane Liddell (photo) m. John Harrison 

John Harrison (photo) m. Jane Hill

Robert Harrison (photo) m. Elizabeth Temple 

Dorothy Harrison (photo) m. Ronald Goldsmith 

Carole Goldsmith m. Michael Middleton 

Catherine Middleton m. Prince William of Wales

[lily-s-world]

A few weeks ago scrolling through Instagram, I saw a reel about an upcoming queer book called "The Nightmare Before Kissmas." I decided to give this book a try because the idea of Holiday royalty falling for each other sounded different and fun. And I'm so glad I did because it was so romantic, sexy, fun and super queer!! The type of romcoms I adore.

I think my favorite part was the fact that from the first chapters, they tell you "hey, I'm bi, and so is my best friend Iris and my brother is definitely not straight but also not into labels." And I love them for it, especially how none of them make a big fuss about it. It was just a part of who they are.

There is one thing I had noticed in M/M books, and I think a lot of people will agree; about the constant fetishization of these types of relationships. I had tried a lot of queer series, just for them to end lacking any kind of female and sapphic characters, and the writing to be more fitting for a p0rn movie. I'm not saying you aren't allowed to write sexy scenes in books, but there is a difference between adding a few scenes here and there, than filling your book with extremely explicit descriptions of the act instead of an actual plot.

And this book avoided all of that by giving you an interesting plot about Coal (the protagonist) working to create a better future for his family and Holiday. All while waxing poetic about the Halloween prince. Coal describing his feelings for Hex are probably the most romantic paragraphs I had read in some time. I was swoning by how much these boys adored each other and how well they communicated.

I went and politely slided into the writer Instagram, noticed she is also going to write a story about Kris (Coal's brother), which is cool because I like him. So I asked about Iris, and she was kindly enough to reply and said that Iris is also getting his sapphic story 🩷🩷

I'm gonna be obsessed with this trio for the time being.

[ettena088]

Into The Digital Woods.

Once upon a time, in a distant digital kingdom, there was a small village at the edge of a vast digital forest. In that village, there lived a beautiful ragdoll, a somewhat paranoid jester, and a couple of chess pieces: a white king and a black queen, which was quite ironic since, being simple bakers, they lacked the riches that royalty was expected to have. However, this story isn't about the poverty and misfortune of these bakers... or maybe it is.

Ahem! As I was saying, each of these unique characters had a particular wish.

The beautiful doll wanted more than anything to attend the festival the King would host. The paranoid jester wished for her old cow to start giving milk again. And the couple of kings - I mean, of bakers - wanted to have a child. And it was thanks to these wishes that, unknowingly, the paths of these lovable characters would be wrapped up in a magical, risky, and strange adventure that would undoubtedly be an experience they would never forget.

It was a cloudy day, with a light drizzle, and the wind blew a gentle breeze. For many, this day would be as ordinary as the day before, but not for the beautiful ragdoll named Ragatha, because this special day marked the beginning of the festival the King had prepared to find a beautiful maiden to marry his son, Prince Jax.

So, Ragatha had woken up very early, intending to start her daily chores and hoping that if she finished on time, she could attend the festival.

"I heard you want to go to the festival," said a woman, in a mocking tone.

The poor doll's mother had died, and her father had remarried a woman with two daughters.

"Ragatha? At the festival?" someone else mocked. "Don't make me laugh! Taking her with us would completely ruin our image."

"I won't cause trouble, I just want to go to the festival and have a good time," Ragatha explained, tiredly. At that moment, the doll was scrubbing the kitchen floor.

"And what would you do there? Dance with the prince? Hahahaha," mocked a third voice.

"Just look at yourself! Look at your dress full of patches!" laughed one of the stepsisters.

"Or your hair, which looks like a bunch of worms tangled together," added the other sister while disgustedly touching a strand of the doll’s red woolen hair.

"People will laugh at you," the stepmother commented while kicking the bucket full of soap, causing it to fall and soak Ragatha's dress.

"However," whispered the doll.

"You want to go to the King's festival and dance in front of the prince," they finished together, bursting into a loud laugh.

The three were very beautiful, but they had hearts as black and vile as coal.

Meanwhile, in a humble and rustic cottage, the little jester, named Pomni, was accompanied by a thin, smelly cow named Gummigoo. The jester had no mother, and her father...

"What the hell is the cow doing inside the house?!" shouted a raspy voice, coming from a grumpy clown.

Well, he wasn’t very handsome or graceful.

"D-Dad," Pomni nervously replied, "W-well, I thought it would be a good idea to let Gummigoo stay inside today because maybe a warm environment is what he needs to finally give us milk."

"It's not 'he,' it's 'she.' How many times do I have to tell you?" said the clown, rolling his eyes. "Only females can give milk."

Pomni gently petted the cow's head, and with a mix of nervousness and seriousness, she responded, "But what if Gummigoo... identifies as a male? Maybe that's why he isn't giving milk, maybe he’s going through an... identity crisis."

Kaufmo fell silent for a second, blinking slowly before putting his hand to his face in frustration. "Pomni, my dear," he said quietly, "It's a cow! It doesn't matter how she identifies, only females give milk!"

Pomni shrugged with a small apologetic gesture but continued to look at him with a glint in her eyes. "I just... wish things were different."

Kaufmo let out a bitter laugh and threw his hands up. "Wishes, wishes, always wishes! Believe me, I have many wishes too, Pomni. I wish you weren’t so silly, that this house wasn’t a mess, that the cow was overflowing with milk, that the walls were made of gold... Oh, believe me, my dear, I wish for a lot of things!"

He was really trying to deal with fatherhood.

Meanwhile, with the bakers...

Knock, knock, knock.

"I’m coming!" answered the king piece named Kinger, walking awkwardly and distractedly toward the door. However, when he opened it...

"There’s no one here," he said confused, looking both ways outside the door.

"Are you sure, dear?" asked the other chess piece, named Queenie, as she approached her husband. "Maybe it was the wind... or someone has already left."

Kinger frowned, perplexed. "Maybe, but something feels strange."

Just then, a strange figure appeared floating behind them, making them jump in surprise.

"Hello! I'm hungry! Do you have bread? Or maybe Angel Food Cake, please!" exclaimed a floating bubble, seeming to move at an uncontrollable speed. Its voice was a jumble of words, it wore a red hood that contrasted with its floating figure, and its gaze was unsettling, intense and fixed.

"What...?" Kinger took a step back, his eyes wide open, staring at the floating bubble that had appeared out of nowhere.

"Who are you? And what are you doing here?" asked Queenie, clearly puzzled and somewhat alarmed, as she watched the strange figure approach without warning.

"I'm Bubble, but that doesn't matter," the bubble quickly replied, bouncing a bit. "I just want bread! NOT FOR ME! It’s for my grandmother. She... needs bread, and also... Angel Food Cake! She really likes it! And if you don’t have that, that’s fine! Anything, I just want bread, bread, please, for my grandmother. It’s important."

Kinger and Queenie exchanged a glance of utter disbelief, unsure of what to do or how to react to the unexpected appearance of this floating figure with a red hood speaking at full speed. Without a doubt, this day was stranger than ever.

On the other side, with the doll...

"I’m done! I’m done!" Ragatha cheerfully informed her stepmother and stepsisters.

Her stepsisters barely paid attention, but her stepmother, with her typical cold and mocking gaze, slowly walked over to inspect the doll's work.

"I’m not convinced," she said after a few seconds. "You’ll have to do something else if you want to go to the King’s festival."

Ragatha, with her face glowing with excitement, frowned, confused. "But what else could I do? I’ve finished everything..."

"Hmmm..." The stepmother thought for a moment, and after a few seconds, shouted, "Meeting!"

Hearing this, the stepsisters quickly gathered, forming a circle around the stepmother. They began to murmur among themselves, whispering and glancing at Ragatha with malicious smiles.

Ragatha, nervous, watched how they conspired in low voices. She could hear fragments of their conversation, words like "something difficult," "stay here," "an excuse," but she couldn’t understand what they were planning.

Finally, the stepmother raised her hand, and with an expression of superiority, turned toward Ragatha.

"Perfect," she said as she lifted a large jar full of lentils. With a quick movement, she dumped them onto the fireplace, letting the lentils scatter across the ashes.

"Now," she continued mockingly, "you’re going to pick up all these lentils before we finish getting ready for the ball. If you do, then you can go to the King’s festival."

Ragatha looked at the mess before her, and her face slowly sank into despair as she saw the lentils scattered everywhere.

"What are you waiting for, doll? If you don’t finish on time, you’re not going anywhere."

The stepsisters laughed among themselves as they headed to the other side of the house, leaving Ragatha with her daunting task.

Ragatha bent down, picking up the lentils one by one, feeling her frustration grow with every passing second. The minutes seemed endless, and her hope of attending the King’s festival faded more and more. However, something inside her wouldn't let her give up.

She looked out the window, where a group of birds was singing joyfully. An idea sparkled in her mind, and with a determined sigh, she stood up. With her soft, melodic voice, she began to sing:

"Birds of the sky,

Birds of the rooftops,

Leaves, fields, castles, and ponds.

Come down, little birds,

Leave the rooftops and leaves,

Leave the fields, castles, and ponds."

She sang with her soul, as if her voice could reach the heart of the birds. It wasn’t the first time she’d spoken to them; she’d always had a special connection with them. The melody flowed like a river, clear and peaceful, hoping her plea would be heard.

At first, the birds watched her from the branches, confused. But little by little, one by one, they began to approach, first cautiously, then with more confidence.

"Little friends, with feathers and wings,

Help me with this strange task.

The lentils are too many,

I can't handle them all,

Come to my aid, don’t give me more hours.

Search among the ashes,

Peck quickly, sift the ashes,

And fill the jar."

Soon, Ragatha found herself surrounded by a chorus of small birds who, following her song, began pecking and gathering the lentils scattered on the ground.

With their agile and quick movements, the birds started gathering the lentils, bringing them in small piles to the jar. Ragatha, excited, smiled as she saw how her song had worked.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY "SELL IT"?!

Pomni's voice echoed through the cabin, causing Gummigoo, the cow, to lift her head from her corner where she was still eating straw. Kaufmo, for his part, was standing in front of her with his hands on his hips, looking at his daughter with an expression of extreme frustration.

"Yes, Pomni! Sell it," Kaufmo repeated, without losing his annoyed tone.

"But he’s the best cow," the jester lamented while hugging the cow.

"She was! SHE was the best cow!" Kaufmo raised his voice, annoyed. "But SHE has been dry for over a month, giving us nothing! Not a drop of milk!"

Pomni, with eyes shining with sadness, looked at Gummigoo, who was watching her peacefully. "But... he’s always been with us. Why does he have to leave now?"

"Because she’s useless, Pomni! We can't keep her here out of pity! If she doesn't give milk, it makes no sense to keep taking care of her. Someone else could make use of her, even if it's for meat or to take her somewhere else where they’ll take better care of her!"

Pomni remained silent, hugging Gummigoo, unsure of what to say.

"I can't believe you’re saying this!" she finally whispered, with a frustrated and sad voice. "He’s not just a cow, he’s my best friend in the whole world!"

"Look at her!" exclaimed Kaufmo. "She has ticks on her ribs, flies in her eyes, and a huge lump on her rear that looks more like a hump. There's no time left! She’s getting old. And besides! No one has a cow as a friend. Sometimes I fear for your mental health, daughter."

And back to the bakers who, unfortunately, were still dealing with the annoying bubble.

"Oh! And do you have any buns? I love those," said Bubble, floating closer to them.

The bakers, completely exhausted by the presence of the bubble, looked at each other. Bubble didn't seem to have any intention of leaving and kept asking for more bread.

"One is enough," he said, taking a bun from the bread basket. "Or maybe four or six."

"Hey, hey, hey," said Kinger, frowning. "How do you plan to pay for all this?"

Bubble pulled three copper coins from their pocket, shaking them in front of them with a big smile. "With this, will it be enough?"

Kinger looked at her in disbelief. "Three coins? Are you kidding?"

Queenie, already on the verge of despair, raised her hand for silence. "That will be enough, Kinger, let's not make a drama. Let he have the buns, we are not going to ruin our day for three coins."

Bubble, looking at Queenie with bright eyes, added: "And... since I'm at it, could you give me a basket to carry all this? I don't want the bread to fall on the way and leave my poor grandmother with nothing."

Queenie, with a tired smile, sighed deeply and handed over an empty basket. "Here, take it. Hey, do you know how to get to your grandmother's house? The forest can be a dangerous place."

Bubble, without stopping for a moment, replied: "Of course, of course, my grandmother's house... it's easy! I just have to follow the straight path, right? I never get lost."

"Well, don’t stop for strangers," said Queenie while helping Bubble pack the bread. "And try not to get there too late. I don't want your grandmother to get scared."

"And save some for her, okay?" added Kinger, looking at the big pile of bread Bubble had gathered. "Don’t eat it all yourself, alright?"

Bubble smiled widely. "Of course! She needs it more than me! Since sick people need to eat a lot, even though she is very old, who knows? She may already be dead by the time I get there." And with the basket filled to the brim, he turned around and floated toward the forest, without looking back.

The bakers stood there watching, very confused, as Bubble walked away. "It's finally gone," Queenie finally said, relieved.

Kinger crossed his arms and watched where Bubble had gone. "I really hope he gets lost in the woods."

And so began the strange and absolutely not ordinary day of these unique characters.

𓆸𓆱𓆸𓆱𓆸𓆱𓆸𓆱𓆸𓆱𓆸𓆱𓆸𓆱𓆸𓆱𓆸

This is a kind of AU I’m planning to write! I’ve been meaning to adapt one of my favorite musicals, Into the Woods, for a while now, but I only recently found the time to start. This could count as the first chapter, and I plan to upload the whole story on Ao3 later, and maybe here on Tumblr as well.

I had so much fun writing this, even though it was a bit exhausting. The first chapter literally only covers the first 6 or 7 minutes of the musical. At first, I was undecided about whether to write the story as a musical or something more like a fairy tale (without songs). In the end, I decided to leave out the songs because I’m new to writing and wasn’t entirely happy with my first attempts at making it a musical.

I’ll try not to make too many changes to the original story, but I did omit some details to better adapt it to the world and characters of TADC.

For those who have already seen the musical (or the movie), I hope you enjoy what I’m working on. And for those who haven’t seen it yet, you absolutely should—it’s amazing!

Lastly, I want to mention that English isn’t my first language, so I’m working on improving it. I apologize for any grammatical errors you might find. 😅😅😅

[usssnarfblat]

Did Anastasia deserve to die for her family's crimes against Fieval's family?

I've always found it interesting that "Anastasia" and "An American Tail" were made by the same guy...

My mom got us "An American Tail" as kids, since we were Jewish, and a Disney-like movie with Jewish characters was a one-of-a-kind thing. ("The Prince of Egypt" was still a few years away. Yes, I'm that old.) More to the point, my dad's side of the family is largely Russian Jews, who immigrated in the early 1920s, for exactly the same reasons as the Mouskewitz. Being a child of this background and very literally obsessed with cats, I had mixed feelings about the movie.

When "Anastasia" came out a few years later, Mom didn't let that history stop us from enjoying the new princess movie, but she didn't shelter us from it either. We regarded it like we did the real history behind any sugar-coated princess movie. She even got us some history books about the real Romanov family, and we were fascinated by the subject.

Still, it's an odd elephant in the room, watching "Anastasia" and knowing that her granddad was the one who sent those Cossack cats after Fievel's village, and her dad himself continued doing it to the Jewish mice who didn't leave.

"Go, Pompom, Kibble and Fluff-Baron! Kill those Jew mice, and I'll give you extra catnip treats tonight!"

Don Bluth presents both the Romannov family and their victims with equal sympathy, even opening both movies with the family celebrating a holiday, with the kid heroes getting a plot-specific present, before being viciously attacked.

"Wow Grandmama! Fieval and Tanya could use this as a merry-go-round!"

*Cough* "Yes uh, about those Jewish mice Sweetie..."

Bluth's portrayal of the Romanov family is not entirely inaccurate. By all accounts, Nicholas II was a deeply loving father who both doted on his children, but raised them not to be spoiled. Despite being royalty, the princesses shared bedrooms and did charity work at hospitals.

It's a baffling irony that Nicholas was nevertheless was a tyrant, and not remotely just to his Jewish subjects. When I was about twelve, Mom got me the Dear America book A Coal Miner's Bride, about the Catholic Polish immigrants who also fled the oppression of the Russian Tzar. (Anastasia's family conquered part of Poland in the 1800s, banning the Pols from speaking their own language and drafting their sons into the Tzar's dick-measuring contest wars.) Anyway, that's what my mom's side of the family was fleeing when they immigrated. Yes, my family has double reason to hate the Romanovs.

So, I personally don't have a lot of sympathy for Nicholas II. But the horrors his poor wife and children endured in their final moments never fails to get the reaction from me.

The rationalization for the murder of the children and queen was that it was the only way to ensure that the monarchy never returned. But I assume most modern-thinking people would say that the ends do not justify the means in this case.

That said, millions of families like Anetka's and Fievel's suffered as bad or worse than the Romanovs, because of the Romanovs, and no one remembers them because they didn't wear tiaras. This no doubt was another factor that killed sympathy for the Romanov children. But they were still children.

The question today is, if we can feel for a family that was literal royalty, despite their father being an undeniable tyrant against our own families...can we also feel for Palestinian and Israeli families, during a conflict that is vastly more complicated than Imperial Russia?

Or do they need to be cute mice and glittery princesses to get our attention?

[darethshirl]

teia/viago angst (Royalty AU)

Antiva City is both grander and dirtier than Treviso, all classical lines and dilapidated cobblestones. Teia watches her step—and her purse—as she squeezes her way down Via di Palazzo, employing her sharp elbows to carve a path forward. Market day: a nightmare for the entire country, and twice as much for its capital. She tries to unearth some patriotic awe for this city and its heaving, sweaty masses, its colorful townhouses, its marble statues stained black from coal smoke. She succeeds, in a way. The centuries-old arch leading up to the royal palace is pretty impressive, built strong and tall and imposing.

Too bad her personal entanglements sour the feeling.

The crowd disperses somewhat once she reached the gardens, then disappears completely at the gates. Two severe-looking guards with plumes in their hats glare at her approach, but Teia's Crow status supersedes her elf ears. Being granted passage is quick work, and then it's just a long stroll down the hallway—lush carpet under her feet, portraits lining every free inch of the walls—until she's at the throne room.

Antiva's latest king is a study in understatement. Unlike his revered predecessors he's eschewed the robes and the scepter, the heavy crown and the ruby ring. Instead he stands in slim black silk, his boots polished and his diadem gleaming. His hair is a little longer. His gloves are the same.

“Your Majesty,” Teia intones, bowing mockingly low. When she resurfaces her smile is steady, and deadlier than any weapon. “Your loyal subject addresses you.”

Viago has always been worse than her at donning a mask. His discomfort, his wince—it’s there to see for those that know him, in his pinched brow, his thinly pressed lips. “Miss Cantori,” he says stiffly. And stops, staring down at her somberly. One might even say helplessly.

Unfortunately for him, Teia has never carried much mercy in her heart. “I hope you are in good health.”

“I—yes. Thank you. You as”—another wince, a smothered cough—”you as well. We hope.”

Teia sharpens her smile to a killing edge. “And yet the same can’t be said for our fair Antiva, can it? Not with the Antaam being made so welcome.”

Viago frowns. “It’s an occupation, not a soiree. I—we are doing what must be done for Antiva’s future. So she can have a future.”

“Is that what you tell to the people trapped in their own homes, unable to venture out without fearing for their freedom? To the people already dead?” And she’s not supposed to break like this, had planned to keep her cool with icy disdain, except fire surges in her veins regardless, the horror and injustice of it all choking her. “We can fight back, Viago!”

But Viago, cold man by nature, has now found his footing. “Just because we can doesn’t mean we should. In my opinion striking blindly would be too hasty, and entirely too unwise.”

“And your opinion is the only one that matters, is that it?”

If the hit registers, Viago doesn’t show it. He stares her down, unyielding and unblinking, his black eyes as pitiless as a snake’s. “That is correct.”

Teia means to scoff, but the sound comes out quavery, too bitter. “Then I suppose I never knew you.”

“You do know me.”

“I never knew you for a coward.” Teia digs her nails into her palms, to sublimate the feeling that’s making her eyes smart. “You’ve given up.”

“No. I’m waiting for the right moment to act,” Viago says, and Teia has always known the man is a viper, cold-blooded and patient, hoarding poisons and grudges alike in his black-veined heart—so why does this hurt so much?

She shakes her head. “Not good enough. Not for me, and not for the Crows.”

Viago’s back to frowning, some of that familiar mulishness seeping through his mask’s cracks. “Antiva would be best served if all her people work together.”

“Antiva would be best served by a swift end to this war. In my opinion.”

“It’s not that simple—”

“It is if you’re willing to hold the dagger—”

“Teia!” Viago shouts, and clearly regrets this breach of his control—but he unexpectedly doesn’t back down. Instead he allows his expression to turn truthful, the angle of his brow vulnerable, entreating. “Please. Can’t you just trust me?”

And maybe in another time, in another setting, she could have. With gritted teeth, sure, but enough to listen to him, to coax out the plans hidden beneath the plans. But the man in front of her right now, crown on his head and power at his fingertips, stressed and brittle and standing so much higher than her—this man is a stranger.

“The Crows have their own plans. You have been warned, your Majesty,” Teia says, bows, and walks away.

“Teia,” comes Viago’s voice, still entreating, but growing distant. He’s stayed rooted to the spot she found him in, throne at his back and ancestors framing his sides, unwilling—or unable—to follow her.

She doesn’t look back.

[liaromancewriter]

Inconvenient Truths

Premise: When Ethan’s mother is brought to the hospital after a drug overdose, it raises emotions he’d rather stay forgotten.

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Angst Words: 860

A/N: Set during 2.13. Submission for @choicesjunechallenge2024 prompt: Growing Sideways by Noah Kahan.

Tears flowed down his cheeks, but the darkness of the on-call room hid them from the shadows. Ethan Ramsey didn’t even know why he was crying or for whom.

It’s not like he didn’t know Louise was an addict. He’d learned that secret a long time ago and accepted it.

It also wasn’t like he needed a mother anymore. He’d done quite well for himself without one for twenty-five years.

So, why had seeing her wheeled into the emergency department on a gurney shaken him to the core?

For a second, he hadn’t recognized the deathly pale face beneath the oxygen mask. It wasn’t until Cassie cried out that it was his mother that he connected the dots.

He remembered being rooted to the spot, unable to get his legs to move or for his brain to process the scene. But then his medical training kicked into gear, and Louise was just another addict who had overdosed on opioids.

He leaped into action, scanning the patient with a clinical eye. Blue lips and fingertips. Shallow breathing. Pupils small and unresponsive….

And on it went. It was just another day in the hospital, with Dr. Ramsey working alongside his colleague Dr. Valentine to diagnose and treat a patient.

But it wasn’t that simple. Cassie Valentine wasn’t just any doctor. She was the woman he was in love with. American royalty with a perfect family and class leaking from her pores.

She hadn’t grown up hearing taunts about her mother running off with another man or seeing her father trying to save face and provide for his only child while working long hours as a single parent.

Truth be told. Ethan had never wanted Cassie to see that or know about his past. He was what he had molded himself into. A cultured and sophisticated man who kept a box at the opera, vacationed in five-star resorts and could call in favors at the American Medical Association with one quick phone call.

He was not the motherless man weeping in a darkened room, hunched over a cot, hands balled into tight fists, wishing for the impossible.

Ethan heard the door click and hurriedly wiped away the tears with his hands.

Cassie peeped cautiously through the crack before she rushed into the room, letting the door close behind her, and sat beside him on the small cot.

Leave me alone, he wanted to scream. Leave before I drag you down with me.

But his lips didn’t move. His voice seemed stuck in his throat like a lump of coal.

She gently ran her hand over his back, telling him without words that she was there for him. He supposed it was meant to be comforting. But right now, it felt like a vine of brambles stinging him with their sharp leaves.

“Ethan, are you alright?” Cassie asked softly, concern in her green eyes.

Somehow, the sympathy coating each word was worse than being comforted. Ethan was not that boy anymore. He didn’t need nor want her pity. So, he fell back on anger, an emotion so powerful he could sense it coursing through his veins.

“She does not get to do this to me,” he hissed. “She does not get to make me feel bad for her.”

“It’s okay to be sad,” she said.

“I’m not sad,” he countered vehemently. “I’m… I’m… angry.”

“That’s okay, too,” Cassie said gently. Her voice was calm and steady, as if taming a wild beast. “Anything you’re feeling right now is okay.”

No, it wasn’t, Ethan wanted to shout. Nothing about this situation was okay!

“I’m…”

For a second, the grief he bore for all he’d lost bubbled to the surface, and he felt tears sting the corner of his eyes.

Sensing his distress, Cassie pressed her lips against his, pouring everything she felt for him in the tender kiss.

When her arms circled his back, holding him close, he gripped her shoulders tightly and let himself take and take. His lips turned greedy, and he ignored her shocked gasp as he sucked out all the love as if he was a vampire hungry for blood.

The kiss was almost his undoing. His heart ached to believe that it was okay. That his mother showing up like this wasn’t a reflection of who he was.

But it was a lie. Just like this kiss was a lie.

He tamped down the vulnerability she brought out in him and brutally ended the kiss, pulling himself away.

Huffing in frustration and anger, he stood up. “I have to get back to work.”

Undeterred, Cassie stepped in front of him. “That was your mom, Ethan. She nearly died.” She placed one hand on his chest and cupped his face with the other. “You can take a minute. It’s okay——”

“No, it isn’t,” he snapped angrily, unable to hide his disbelief at how she didn’t understand him after all this time. “There are patients that need me much more than she does.”

Ethan marched out of the room before he said something he couldn’t take back, slamming the door behind him.

It was not okay. That much he was sure of.

--------------

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @jerzwriter @lady-calypso

@mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16

@justyourusualash @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate

[deathandnonexistentialdread]

i thought it would be fun if we can provide a rational explanation for the events that Pegasus is talking about that is not 'the work of a secret society', because why not.

(Edit: this has become very long and now i have beef with Pegasus. I might have taken this a bit too seriously. My bad)

the fall of Rome was not something that happened in a span of a few days. It was the consequence of various factors including internal strife, the corruption of government officials, war with other states, particularly the Ottomans, and to a certain extent, the rise of Christianity in the region.

as far as i know, which is not much tbh, a lot of the journeys and voyages were sponsored by the monarchies of various European countries so that the monarchy could increase its overall wealth. Colombus was funded by the Spanish monarchy in order to bring back gold and other valuables. (my knowledge of this is not the best so take this with a pinch of salt)

like the fall of Rome, revolutions are not spontaneous in nature and are the result of many injustices and years, if not centuries, of oppression done to the people who are revolting; although there is an incident that can be contributed to as the 'spark' that ignites the revolution.

Since the image is of the French revolution we can use that as an eg. While the storming of Bastille is commonly considered as the 'spark' of the French Revolution, a spark can only create a fire if there is enough kindling. And for the French Revolution, the increase of taxes on the Third Estate as well as the blatant discrimination and oppression of the Third Estate by the First (Clergy) and Second (Royalty) Estates who would not pay taxes, the harvest failures and the increasing prices of bread, the Age of Enlightenment which bought up ideas of democracy, equality, liberty and fraternity also contributed to the French Revolution.

the rise of Napoleon is a direct continuation of the French Revolution. Napoleon was an officer during the French Revolution and earned the people's respect that way. And he used that popularity to consolidate power, and later become Emperor

this is also not sudden. the rise of the Industrial Revolution is linked to many factors, including the flocking of people from rural areas to the cities, the mass production of goods, and the process of mechanization which was possible due to the large amounts of coal that England had at that time.

Even though the image that Pegaus uses is of the steam engine, the Industrial Revolution started from the loom industry.

One can also argue that the Industrial Revolution started when the people stopped regarding the environment around them as sacred and to be respected but rather as a resource that is meant to be exploited.

(again this is not something i know very well) to my knowledge the Renaissance is a result of the rediscovery and revival of the artwork and knowledge of the ancient Greeks and Romans, which were bought by the scholars who migrated from Constantinople, which was also a part of the Roman Empire (the first question) until it was conquered by the Ottomans, to Italy which became the heart of the Renaissance.

The Renaissance was also marked by the invention of the printing press (thank you Guttenberg) and the spread of ideas that the printing press provided, the riches that were accumulated by Europe, through trading with the East and the beginning of European superiority and was mostly a very elite-class movement, though the Black Death and the economic upheaval that was a direct result of it was also a important cause of the Renaissance.

this statement of his angers me a lot because it boils down revolutions, tragedies and periods of discovery and invention to 'sudden economic events'. They are not. All the above mentioned events are the result of ripples caused by the actions and consequences of events before it. While money was an important resource it was not the only one.

Revolutions do not only happen because of funding; they happen because the people made a stand against oppression and discrimination. The fall of an empire has many factors linked to it and the rise of dictators are possible because of the trust that the majority of the population place on the person. The Industrial Revolution and the Renaissance were the results of innovation, invention and rediscovery, as well as the presence of cheap labour.

Boling down all the happenings of the past to just the existence of money and the meddling of a secret society is disrespecting not only the lives and the memory of the people who have lived through the above mentioned events but also to the discipline of history itself.

If my answers are wrong or you guys want to say something, pls do that as well i love learning new things

[colourstreakgryffin]

heyyy, btw i hope you liked the story I wrote for you<33

can you write Tanjiro x fem reader for a royal au where Tanjiro is in charge of testing all food and drinks for the royal family to make sure it’s not poisoned by sniffing it? like maybe one day the chef just brings out the food and tanjiro doesn’t get to test it and it turns out the chef put something like cyanide in the reader’s tea or something like that and Tanjiro like runs in and quickly takes the tea from her before she can drink it.

Oooh! I really like the Royal AU aspect, it’s so smart! I’ve honestly been a roll with Tanjiro too and I’m all for it~! I love this angel of sunshine so much!

Kamado Tanjiro- Wait, Your Majesty

“My princess~!” Tanjiro, the Royal Poison Detector bowed politely as you giggled at his adorable, optimistic voice and passed him with a unwanted heavy heart. You didn’t want him to have to wait outside, you wanted him to come inside and eat with you

His job, at the castle of the royals, was to smell the supplies of foods and drinks shipped over from other kingdoms and from the kingdom’s own markets for any trance of deadly laces. You, alongside your parents, highly valued him and his incredible sense of smell, he was such a high position for something as simple as smelling food for poison, and it was why he got such a hefty check

He constantly protects your lives, from disease and from assassins with poison. Anything rotten or foul-smelling, the servants took Tanjiro’s word and immediately threw the food out. No matter how much it took to make it nor how safe it seemed

The King, your father, was truly thankful to Tanjiro over and over, for constantly protecting the lives of his beloved family and he was willingly to keep up his payment to the young man. He knew well that Tanjiro doesn’t lie, it’s impossible for such a loveable character to be twisted and lie, and the King even tested Tanjiro before he was hired as a precaution, the experiment was such a success that none of the royals doubted Tanjiro’s ability

Tanjiro wholeheartedly cared for the health and safety of his kingdom’s royalty, as he cared for the people like him’s health and safety. Tanjiro doesn’t really remember how he managed to land this role but he is always happy to be of service. On a cool but dazzling night, Tanjiro alongside a pair of highly-trained royal knights guarded the large entrance of the dining room. Tanjiro, himself, had lots of knight training and he could fight if he needed

Almost all knights he trained with proclaimed he was on a level of a prodigy as he mastered specific techniques and movements with little fail. Tanjiro is truly incredible and you knew that well, more than your parents did, you had developed a crush on the “lowly, coal boy”, the more you spent time with him

The dining room consisted of the King and Queen with their one and only daughter, you. Finishing up their lunch as you begin to crave a sweet treat as a nice touchup from your truly incredible dinner, asking the butler politely for a chocolate moose. Neither of your parents argued with your wants, you’re in charge of your own body and nobody can tell you what to do

“Royal Poison Detector, come” A friendly yet partly-exhausted maid remarked when she strolled up to him as Tanjiro immediately skipped over to her to follow her to the grand and familiar kitchen of the palace. Such a huge area that smelt like a culinary heaven, potent with savoury chicken, vegetables and pastries. Tanjiro smiled sweetly at the hardworking patrons of the castle as he watched them work vigorously

He felt truly pampered as a worker of the palace as compared to them. All he did to earn money and love from the royal family was sniff foods and shipments for anything fishy, he didn’t work his back off. Though, he was always willing to be around for you, the crowned princess, when no other knight was available or simply when you asked him too

It’s the least he can do

He suspected a wave of beautiful dishes to be presented to him by the many chefs but before the one glass of chocolate moose, in which he guessed was order by you or the Queen. The infamous King entered the kitchen and snapped his fingers for Tanjiro’s attention, ignoring the number of maids and butlers. Of course, Tanjiro immediately listened to his King’s orders and approached him with that unchanging, heart-fluttering beam. He must have wanted his services elsewhere?

It was simple and it made Tanjiro laugh a bit. The King wanted advice on princes of choice for you and he figured to ask the only other teenager your age and he was thankful that one is a boy. He may know the type of guy you would want and Tanjiro was surprised by the King’s rockiness. He understood well that he wanted the right suitor for his daughter and Tanjiro gave the older man his best opinion

As usual of the entire palace, the King took his word and flashed a grateful smile. He did that a lot and he wouldn’t stop. To him and his wife, Tanjiro is one of the most important workers they have

“Thank you, Tanjiro, my boy. Please return to your services now” Tanjiro nodded without a single ounce of refusal and turned around to be met with the eyes of a chef but nothing. Wait, where is the chef with the dessert? He hadn’t gotten the chance to smell the glass, it was his job to protect the family as he took a deep breath to try locate a trail leading out of the miniature ballroom-sized kitchen

And he did find a trail after only a few seconds of closing his eyes and smelling as deeply as he could… a disgusting smell trail

Poison! The dessert is poisoned!

“WAIT! MY PRINCESS!” Tanjiro called out at the top of his lungs, effectively alerting you to draw the sweet contents of the moose from your lips before anything could touch the skin. Your mother and father were equally as alarmed, they never argued with Tanjiro’s remarks. If he said something was poison, it was poison!

Tanjiro had sprinted out of the room and threw the doors open with heaves for air as he only thought to get that dessert away from you, the mere millisecond he realised he could smell a pungent thread of poison in the air. He can’t be too late to protect the family, no! He can’t! Thankfully, he had caught you, just in time before you took the first bite of your craved dessert

Oh thank goodness… he saved you

“IT’S POISON! DON’T EAT IT!” He was sprinting full speed to the table without a second to take a breath, he didn’t get to smell it as he was occupied discussing a important task with the King. Shit, no, he seriously hoped you didn’t take a bite of that moose, it didn’t seem like you did! His eyes didn’t trick him, were they? He could smell the hints of poison, such a powerful poison dumped inside the thick chocolate substances

It was disgusting… so thick and suffocating. What a nasty, chemical-like smell…

You dropped the spoon instantly once looking at his concerned plum reds, the spoonful of moose landing messily on the silky red sheet of the dinning table as Tanjiro scooped up the dessert-filled glass from in front of you and dumped all of the jello-ey sweet into the nearby bin with a sigh of relief. That awful potent smile of medicinal-like chemicals is finally gone. You’re safe again, though, he felt bad for interrupting the privacy of the royal family’s dinnertime

It’s not like the King and Queen would ever get mad at him for protecting their daughter. He was their savourer

Your father was furious at the fact poison was even inserted inside the dessert. What chef made the desert?! Has a assassin infiltrated the royal grounds?! He gruffly ordered every guard the kingdom had inside the walls to fish out the many high-grade chefs working under the kitchen roof and Tanjiro, using his mighty hound senses, effectively sniffed out the culprit from the long line of horrified persons

“This one, your majesty! He has some type of poison inside his pocket!” Tanjiro’s confident-toned statement was right as a plastic bottle of deadly cyanide pills was drawn out from the chef’s uniform pocket when the guards tackled him to the floor. Tanjiro was always right, he never got anything wrong and you felt yourself falling deeper in love with the Royal Poison Detector standing before you, he kept saving you over and over

He is so selfless and brave, yet he was polite and he apologised to your understanding parents for ruining the dinner. You didn’t even care if he accidentally poured wine all over your gown, you just love him. You’ve always loved Tanjiro and whatever suitor your father wanted you to marry wouldn’t be like him. He would accompany you at night anytime you felt uncomfortable and he was at your doorstep in a instant

Sure, he was just the Royal Poison Detector to your parents and to the palace’s systems but to you, he was like a personal bodyguard and your crush. He waited on your hand and foot with zero problem, he’d make such a great King to you. Tanjiro was truly honoured to serve the crowned princess as she pleased, from the bottom of his heart

What working class man like himself wouldn’t want to help such a beautiful advisory, like yourself

“I’m very glad you didn’t take a bite of that moose, your majesty. But don’t worry now, you’re safe”

[oceansarepink]

hold up, the trial is going to be a murder trial?

for who, the victim being Stella/Andre?

that's so beyond stupid in a setting where characters kill and maim each other with impunity. this has legit happened in plenty of other episodes and it's only now it matters??

I can only assume it's either Via or Blitzo on trial for saving Stolas' stupid ass from Stella/Andre.

at least if it's Blitzo it's furthering the classism theme by having it be murder only counts when poor does it to rich

but if so then it means we'll be at comical levels of Blitzo sacrificing himself for Stolas. he sacrifices his body to Stolas' deal to keep his business going, sacrifices his self-esteem when he gives up standing up for himself to tell Stolas in not so many words in apology tour that he's just dirt while Stolas is a pretty thing he doesn't deserve to touch, is soon to sacrifice his sense of self by roleplaying as the knight in shining armor Stolas always wanted and being totally out of character and mushy and romantic to 'redeem' himself

and now he might have to sacrifice his freedom to save Stolas in the s2 finale?

if that's all true it's going to make Stolas look even worse if he immediately ends up in a love triangle with Vassago. Blitzo has given up literally every bit of himself to please Stolas and it still might not be enough

and you just know if it's Blitzo on trial for murder it'll be another excuse for the characters to rake him over the coals with Stolas doing the bare minimum of standing up for Blitzo's character in court instead of, I don't know, telling the judge the entire situation is his fault to begin with because he cheated on his wife and that's the entire reason she went on the whole revenge quest (and he was the one to engineer the situation so Blitzo would be alone with him no matter how much the show tries to paint the affair like it's a thing that happened to Stolas and not something that nearly didn't happen at all because Blitzo just gave him pity sex)

Only the lives of Goetia really matter. Hence why moxxie was horrified at the idea of demon royalty being hurt but will barely blink after killing fellow imps at the princes command.

I believe there’s some grand gesture where stolas “takes the blame” as a martyr for Via and Blitz, which dramatically wins blitzos heart despite their incompatibility and constant destructive abuse between them. Even the fact someone has died and Octavia had to do it to prevent them from being hurt, is their fault because of their contract of glorified revenge sex against a woman for being mean.

It’s also a very handy way to make sure nobody can ever say stolas is bad to either of these people ever again. Even though he still was.

That’s why they’re all saying they hate Octavia. Unless there’s a twist where someone else killed the person. Probably. Then they can just quit the ruse and move back into the stolitz family mansion.

[eptodaytommorowforever]

Events In The History And Of The Life Of Elvis Presley Today On The 12th Of November In 1972

Elvis Presley Tour And Show Comes To San Bernardino CA.

A look back at Elvis Presley's 1972 outstanding concert at swing auditorium in San Bernardino CA

Sunday night, Nov. 12, 1972. The Santa Ana winds were howling, so typical of San Bernardino in November. And it was cold. But a sold-out crowd stood patiently to have an audience with The Legend . Elvis Presley was in the Swing Auditorium.

The Swing was the place east of L.A.'s Fabulous Forum to see virtually every top name act in the rock world, circa 1964 through 1981. Located on E Street, the auditorium was built in 1949 on the grounds of the National Orange Show and was named for Senator Ralph E. Swing, a San Bernardino legislator. What a glorious barn it was and what history played out on that stage. The Rolling Stones did their first American concert there in June 1964. The place rocked until a small plane crashed into it on Sept. 11, 1981 and the auditorium had to be demolished. One of the last shows played there featured Iron Maiden.

In between, rock royalty were regulars. Fleetwood Mac played more than five times. The Byrds, Buffalo Springfield, Jefferson Airplane, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Cream, Jimi Hendrix Experience, Led Zeppelin, The Doors, Black Sabbath, Ramones (as opening act), Chicago, Jethro Tull, Alice Cooper, the Grateful Dead (multiple times), Faces with Rod Stewart (also multiple times), Santana, the Kinks, Janis Joplin, Eric Clapton, the Beach Boys, and more. Look up how many of these acts are in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Just about everybody but the Beatles made it to the Swing.

Prior to the modern rock era, Bob Hope was almost an annual fixture at the Swing during the National Orange Show Fair. Other notables who performed there in the '50s and '60s included Sammy Davis Jr., Jack Benny, Judy Garland, Jerry Lewis, and George Burns. But never had a King played there before that night.

Yet, it wasn't as if Elvis Presley had never been to the IE. He did own a house for several of the Priscilla years in Palm Springs and was known to do some boating in Big Bear Lake. Many scenes of the totally forgettable remake movie 'Kid Galahad' were shot in Idyllwild. And, some of the outdoor footage in 1964's 'Kissin' Cousins' was shot in the San Bernardino Mountains. Still, this was different.

Elvis Presley's nationwide tour began at Madison Square Garden in New York, a city he had never before performed live in. The four concerts there were sold out and got rave reviews. At 37, he was 'lean, tanned and greasily handsome, his coal-black hair glistening with an oily 1950s sheen', as the New York Times' Grace Lichtenstein put it. At a press conference before the Madison Square Garden appearance, he was asked about the secret of his longevity on the pop music scene. 'I take Vitamin E', he told reporters.

From New York, the tour moved west, passing through cities like Milwaukee, Chicago, Wichita and Tulsa before continuing on to Las Vegas. Elvis stayed there for most of October before continuing the tour, which took him to Texas, Arizona, and into California. He hit Oakland, then San Bernardino, where he performed two sold-out shows - one on Nov. 12 and another on Nov. 13. rom there, he headed to the Long Beach Arena for two shows, the last stop before catching a plane for Honolulu where the tour would wrap up. Originally, the Honolulu show was planned to be broadcast worldwide by satellite, but the broadcast date was changed to early 1973 so it wouldn't conflict with the release of MGM's musical documentary Elvis on Tour. No matter. The show (actually four of them) went on. And in Honolulu, as well as in other cities on the tour, fans of all ages crowded concert venues to get a live view of the King.

So it was in San Bernardino. The Swing could hold about 10,000 people with a concert take of around $60,000. On that cold November night, fans crammed into the sold-out auditorium. With reserved seating, there was none of the festival seating chaos that marked the Swing rock shows - kids pushing and shoving and fighting to get to the stage area. This crowd was real diferent. I was way too young at 21. For the usual Swing rock show, most of the concertgoers were my age or younger. The guys had long hair, wore boots, Levis and denim work shirts (think the cover of a Creedence album.) The girls went braless, wore tight jeans or peasant dresses. There were always more guys than girls.

For Elvis Presley though, these fans had jobs, mortgages, and kids. The women clearly outnumbered the guys. They wore bright yellow or orange dresses, lots of makeup. Hairspray was huge. And, there were more than a few suicide blondes with hot pants and go-go boots. (I would never have sat on anything in the Swing in hot pants.) Jean Naté was locked in mortal combat with Charlie in a fragrance war. My Sin perfume held its own. Smoke from the bathrooms came from real Marlboro men (and women.)

My seat was in the cheap section - off to the side and high up, close to the glued-on tinsel that was a prominent feature of the Swing. The place always had a peculiar smell. Close to show time, greedy Colonel Tom's minions were at the stage hawking T-shirts, photos, and other assorted gee-gaws. I wonder just how much of that cash Elvis Presley received.

Finally, the lights lowered. The band started playing the theme from 2001: A Space Odyssey. Then, there he was - The King. He was resplendent in a black and red concert suit.

Though his show was typical of his Vegas show that he performed at the International Hotel (later known as the Las Vegas Hilton and now called the Westgate Las Vegas Resort & Casino), it didn't matter to his loyal subjects. He was live in San Berdoo! Old ladies screamed. It was hard to tell from my cheap seat, but I believe there were a few panties thrown at him.

His voice and physique were in A-plus form. He ripped through concert standards such as 'Polk Salad Annie', crooned to crowd favorite 'Can't Help Falling In Love', and did a couple of religious numbers with the gospel group J.D. Sumner and The Stamps.

No Elvis Presley show would be complete without the hits 'Hound Dog', 'All Shook Up', 'Jailhouse Rock', and 'American Trilogy'.

His band and entourage - the Sweet Inspirations, legendary guitar hero James Burton - provided a full sound that could not be duplicated by the typical four-man rock act. It was a show truly becoming of a King. The crowd responded as if seeing him for the first time. Bedlam broke out among the thousands of fans.

After about 90 minutes, despite fans calling for more, Elvis Presley left the auditorium for the San Bernardino Hilton, about $60,000 richer. I was a poor college kid. I went to Del Taco. What a Sunday night! rare candid photo's one captured of elvis presley leaving Oakland CA captured here by a female ep fan boarding is executive chartered jet heading to San Bernardino CA and performing here at this show wearing the white pinwheel jumpsuit and the white cape and the lions head belt captured by a fan audience member who was at this show concert.