#four mothers 1941

[kingoftheclaudes]

Propaganda

John Jasper (The Mystery of Edwin Drood) - Your Honor, he's a freak (affectionate). Claude is perfect when he's brooding and committing murder.

Adam Lemp (Four Daughters, Four Wives, Four Mothers) - Blustery but well-meaning, he never truly got the chance to really shine! He honestly should've gotten his own spin-off. I’d watch the heck out of it - just watching him give off girl dad energy while keeping everybody under his roof in check. I can totally see him and May Robson as siblings!

This is round one for The King of The Claudes tournament and other matchups can be found here!

Additional Propaganda under the cut!

John Jasper

Adam Lemp

[sweetbuckybarnes]

Who is This?: Chapter 2

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Y/N talks about how she met James Barnes and how she found herself in the modern world. Follow on from this fic.

"What the hell is going on?" Bucky nearly demanded, keeping his arms wrapped around his companion.

Sam raised his eyebrow. "I could ask you the same question, Barnes?" Sam looked at the young woman in Bucky's arms. "Who is this?"

Bucky looked down at her, Sam watched as a smile grew on his face. "This is Y/N. Y/N Barnes. My wife."

"I'm sorry, what was that? Wife? You two are married?" Sam asked, looking between Bucky and Y/N.

"Indeed we are, aren't we darling?"

Y/N looked at Bucky first with a smile then with dead eyes. "I'm still pissed with you," Sam couldn't place her accent. It was a strange combination of Brooklyn, southern and English.

"Babydoll," Bucky sighed, as his wife got up from the couch and walked to the kitchenette.

"No. Don't you babydoll, me. I had two officers with a telegram in their hand as they flat out told me you had fallen off a train in the Alps of all places, whilst you were on some stupid mission with Steve, they never went looking for you, they simply declared you were missing and you were most likely dead."

Bucky's face falls, realising how much she had missed him after he fell off the train. After he had escaped to Bucharest, his memories came back in flashes - her face had always been there front and centre. He never had the time to sit Steve down and ask him about the gorgeous girl in his memories. It had taken another trip to the Smithsonian Institution - and that's when he saw her further into the exhibition, her arms in both Bucky and Steve's as she looked up at him in awe. Bucky and Y/N were married on January 15, 1941 - four weeks after Bucky signed up.

He gets up also, leaving the blanket which once covered them in a ball on the couch. "Sweetheart," he said softly.

"They told me on our fucking anniversary as well!" The tears couldn't be held back as they started rolling down her cheeks.

"It may be late, but happy anniversary," Bucky says, which gets a watery sob out of Y/N - who returns the sentiment.

Sam walks around the couple and into the kitchenette. "How long have you two now been married then?"

They looked at each other. "If you don't count the time we were separated, three years."

"And if you do?" Sharon asks.

"Eighty-three."

"Seems like I owe you a lot of anniversary presents. And birthdays, and Christmas..." Bucky trails off. "Seeming like I'll always be in debt to you, doll."

She shakes her head, "I have you here now. That's the only present I need."

"So how did you two meet?" Sam asks.

August 3rd, 1922

It was the first day at Brooklyn Heights Elementary School. Winnifred Barnes held her eldest son's hand as she took him to school.

Little James Barnes was terrified, it would be his first full day away from his ma, he didn't know anyone and he had a strong feeling like he wanted to cry (his father George had firmly told him men don't cry).

The mother and son duo were stood in front of a little peg, which had his name stuck to it, he was in between someone called Steve and someone called Y/N (the little girl had already taken her coat off - which her mother was hanging up for her, as she dug through her backpack on the floor).

"Y/N what have I told you about sitting on the floor like that?" Y/N's mother said, cupping her hands underneath her armpits and sat her on her knees.

"I can't find my crayons, mama!" Y/N exclaimed, looking up at her mama.

James looked down into his backpack and saw the small pack of crayons his father had brought back home one night. "We can share mine," he tells the little girl on the floor, sitting down next to her.

She looked at him with a big smile. Even at four years old, he couldn't help but think she was the prettiest girl in the world.

"That's how you got your girl? Crayons when you were four?" Sam asks.

"No, I had always known she was beautiful, but it took me a long time to persuade her for a date."

Y/N looked at her husband with a singular raised eyebrow. "You went from girl to girl with no consideration of their feelings. I didn't want to be put on the same list."

"Not a chance, since we locked eyes on that cold floor in elementary school, I have always been yours."

January 15, 1940

"Please, doll," Bucky nearly begged, as Y/N made her way around the counter at the local diner where she currently works. "Just one date."

"No, James, you can't ask me just because you don't have a date for the night."

Bucky sighed, he loved how she was the only one (apart from his ma when he annoyed her) who still called him James. "But, doll."

"And what have I told you about calling me doll?"

"I could take you to Coney Island," which was shut down saying that was his and Steve's 'place to hang out without her'. Bucky denied it, saying that it wasn't right that he and Steve spent time together without her. "What about the movies?"

"The three of us have already seen everything at the movies right now."

Bucky looked at the ceiling, as he fiddled with his ice cream float. "You don't want to go to Coney Island, we've seen everything at the movies and you don't want to go to a diner..."

He heard someone make a passing comment that the river in that park upstate had frozen over and was perfect for. "Ice skating! That's it, I'll take you ice skating!"

Y/N looked over at him, "Will it shut you up?" He nodded. "Fine, you can take me ice skating."

Bucky let out a loud cheer. "I promise you, you won't regret it, babydoll."

Bucky leaned over pressed a kiss to her cheek and ran out of the diner - he missed Y/N rubbing her cheek with a growing smile on her face.

"You were smitten with me?"

"Since day one, babydoll."

They shared a kiss when the door was pushed open by someone who looked like he had a homemade costume Steve used to wear. "What the hell?"

"Alright, that's it. Your time is up. Tell me where Zemo is," someone came storming in, dressed like Steve, shield in one hand as he pointed at the other people in the room. Y/N looked from Bucky to Sam to Sharon and then back to Bucky.

"We know you're hiding him," his sidekick added, crossing his arms.

The Captain America wannabe ordered them to turn over Zemo, which Y/N countered with a comment about the Captain America wannabe running his mouth.

"How did I miss you?" He flirts.

Y/N raised her eyebrow at him, then looked up at Bucky (who whispered into her ear that they were trying to get the shield back). "Give me a second," She puts on a look on her face and makes her way over to the Captain America wannabe. "Oh my God, is that the shield?" She could see him preen at her words. "Can I have a look at it?"

Stupidly, he hands her the shield, Y/N looks it over, and then up at him. "Thanks," and makes her way back to Bucky.

"What are you doing with my shield?"

"I think you mean, my shield. Considering that it technically belongs to me."

Captain America wannabe looked at her confused, what the hell was she talking about? "Who even are you?"

"Who am I? He doesn't know, James!" Y/N looked up at Bucky.  "He doesn't know!" The couple laughed. "I'm Y/N, Steve's half-sister, and this muppet's wife."

"Wait, so how did you end up 80 years in the future?" Sam asks as the trio settles in for the night.

"Howard wanted to make another Super Soldier after the war after Steve had 'died'," she puts quotes around died, then turns her head to look at Bucky. "Yes, I know what happened to Howard and Maria," Bucky's face fell - she knew what he had done as the Winter Soldier(the war crimes he had committed had been plastered all over the news during his trial). 

Sam looked between Bucky and Y/N as he asked. "What happened? I presume you volunteered."

She nods her head. "I did. But, something went wrong. They gave me the serum, and I remember collapsing to the floor and the next thing I knew I was waking up in the year 2019, Steve's face over the top of mine, tears in his eyes, saying he was so happy to see me."

"Steve knew you were alive?" Bucky asked, looking at his wife in surprise. There were about two weeks between the Battle of Earth and Steve went back to the past. 

"I don't remember much from when I woke up, because I was falling in and out of sleep, for a long time." She says, looking up at the ceiling.

[girlactionfigure]

THURSDAY HERO: Franciszka Halamajowa

Chana and Moshe Malc were traditional Jews living in Sokal, Poland (modern-day Ukraine) with their two young children when the Nazis occupied their town in 1941. Immediately, local residents were emboldened to persecute their Jewish neighbors and violent attacks became common. A squalid, overcrowded Jewish ghetto was established in 1942 and the Malcs were taken from their home and forced to live there.

The Germans began rounding people up, a thousand at a time, and sending them from the ghetto to death camps. Frantically, the Malcs found an attic where six-year-old Chaim Malc could hide, and then Chana, Moshe and their toddler Lifsha, growing desperate, took refuge in a dank cellar with 30 other Jews. They were able to rescue Chaim from his solitary hiding place and bring him to the cellar, but unfortunately Lifsha wouldn’t stop crying. Tragically, a Jew who was forced by the Nazis to search for hidden Jews heard Lifsha’s wails and took her from her family and handed her over to a German soldier, making sure that the other Jews in the cellar wouldn’t be discovered.

Devastated by the loss of their precious daughter and aware that their own days in the ghetto were numbered, the Malcs knew their best chance of survival was to find a place to hide outside the ghetto. They managed to sneak out, but where could they go? They knew one Polish woman, Franciszka Halamajowa, and with nowhere else to turn, they went to her home and pleaded for help. Chaim Malc later explained how the family knew Franciszka. “You never know when you do a favor for someone what it will bring eventually. In 1936, my father and grandfather were traveling with a horse and wagon and they stopped for a woman who was waiting at the side of the road with a lot of parcels – this was how they met Franciszka.”

A kind-hearted woman who was grateful for the Malcs’ help several years before, Franciszka and her young adult daughter Helena warmly welcomed the Jewish family into their humble home. They furnished a small attic room above the pigsty for the Malcs and provided for all their needs. Franciszka’s son Wilmus helped them procure extra food and supplies for the hidden Jews. Franciszka and her family were fully aware of the risks they incurred by secretly sheltering the Malc family; the penalty for hiding Jews was execution on the spot. Franciszka was a devout Catholic who believed that God put the Malcs in her life so that she could help them. 

Soon, members of the extended Malc family also moved into Franciszka’s cramped attic, including Moshe’s mother, sisters and niece. A few months after that, Moshe’s brother Shmelke joined them, along with the four-person Kindler family, bringing the total of attic dwellers to thirteen. They had to keep quiet, and spent the long days praying, writing, and playing chess. Moshe Malc kept a diary in Yiddish, his native tongue. Amazingly, young Chaim later said, “There were high spirits in the hideout in the attic.”

Dr. Kindler was an experienced local physician who provided medical care when needed to the thirteen people in the tiny attic. Sadly, Chaya-Dvora Malc, Moshe’s sister, died of typhus and was buried under the apple tree in Franciszka’s yard. Dr. Kindler’s medical acumen prevented anybody else from getting sick, and in fact saved their lives in another way. Franciszka’s neighbors found out about the hidden Jews and threatened to report them to the Gestapo. In exchange for free medical care from Dr. Kindler, the neighbors kept their mouths shut. Meanwhile, the Polish residents of Sokal were abandoning the city because of the fear of enemy attacks. 

After the Jews had been safely hidden for twenty months, Franciszka was devastated when Nazis suddenly turned up at her front door. They didn’t know about the hidden Jews; they were there to build radar equipment on the roof of Franciszka’s home. Certain that the end was near, the Jews actually contemplated committing mass suicide rather than be sent to a Nazi death camp. Miraculously, the Germans suddenly abandoned the project – perhaps because the Russian army was closing in on Sokal. 

One month later, the city was liberated and for the first time in almost two years, the Malcs and Kindlers went outside. They were surprised to learn that Franciszka had actually hidden three more Jews inside her home, and they helped her cook meals and do laundry for the Malcs and Kindlers. Chaim later remembered the monumental day of liberation. “We emerged on a sunny day in July. We could hardly talk or walk. I was eight years old.” The thirteen Jews hidden by Franciszka were among only 30 of Sokal’s 6000 Jews to survive the war.

The Malcs went from Sokal to a Displaced Persons camp in Germany, where they had another son, Nathan, and then they immigrated to the United States. Franciszka never told anybody about her brave actions during the war, and went to her grave as an unknown hero. In 1984, Franciszka (posthumously) and Helena were honored as Righteous Among the Nations by Israeli Holocaust Memorial Yad Vashem.

Moshe Malc’s diary survived the war to become a family treasure. Sixty-four years after they were liberated, Moshe’s granddaughter Judy Maltz made a feature-length documentary about Franciszka Halamajowa, the brave and pious Polish woman who saved three Jewish families. The movie is called “No 4 Street of Our Lady” – Franciszka’s address. It wasn’t until after the movie came out that Franciszka’s own grandchildren learned the extent of what she did.

For saving 16 Jews from the Nazis, we honor Franciszka Halamajowa as this week’s Thursday Hero.

[vidavalor]

Hello! 👋 Just dropping in for a visit to my favourite online pub: your blog *chews on all your posts and slurps down your analyses*

I love the way you spell out the Ineffable Husband SpeakTM for us, and I was wondering what you think about Crowley’s “You don’t dance.” in 2.06, when Aziraphale asked to dance with him?

Crowley is mumbling a bit here & I wasn’t sure at first if he said “you” or “we” or something else, so I checked the subtitles as well. That aside, we know by this point that Aziraphale has done at least 3 I-Was-Wrong dances, so I wonder if Crowley is referring to something else?

Hi, @procrastiel! How's it going, love? Wouldn't say I spell anything out-- I just give my opinion-- but I appreciate the compliment! 💕Crowley's line is definitely "you don't dance" and ohh, yeah, I can deep dive on my opinion on what it means to dance. Deepest of dives-- this went everywhere. 😂 Mother of all metas for the mother of all Good Omens questions... We're having sandwiches-the-food tonight in honor of where your question crosses into God's tongue-in-cheek monologue on how many angels can get down on the heads of those Mrs. Sandwich seamstressing tools-- pins.

This is going to take a route through some heavy analysis of the argument over Gabriel and The Apology Dance and a few other things to get the root of your question, so, grab a beverage of choice before diving in. TW: Brief mentions of Satan's attacks on Crowley.

*rubs hands together and cues up the disco music* 😂

What does it mean to dance?

When we talk about dancing, there are roughly four different meanings of the word to look at with relation to Good Omens' story.

One meaning is the first one that comes to mind for most people, which is a physical dance-- as in, moving your body, usually to music.

The music, if it exists, can be in your head, a song you're singing aloud, or one that is playing in the room-- it doesn't matter. If you're moving, any and all of it would qualify as dancing. By this measure? Crowley canonically had seen Aziraphale dance before Aziraphale asked him to dance during The Meeting Ball because, well...

...here is Aziraphale dancing in front of Crowley in the bookshop in 1941:

Crowley's shock in 2.06 cannot be coming from never having seen Aziraphale dance at all, right? They've known each other for thousands of years and if Aziraphale was doing this fucking adorable little shuffle of excitement in the bookshop in 1941 then it's not really a stretch to assume that these two-- who canonically listen to records together in the evenings sometimes-- have danced together before.

In 1941, we see that Aziraphale liking to dance is not something he's actually hiding from Crowley because he's doing this cute little dance in front of him without a second thought. This is also interesting because one theory was that Crowley has no idea about Aziraphale liking to dance at all because he didn't appear to know about Aziraphale learning the gavotte. S2 turns that on its head a bit by saying that Crowley might not yet know about the gavotte-- we don't really know yet either way-- but he definitely does know that Aziraphale likes to dance and he was unsurprised to see him doing so in 1941.

The key thing here is that when they have danced together or in front of one another before? It was likely only in the privacy of the bookshop or another place like it. It was just the two of them.

When Crowley says "you don't dance" to Aziraphale, he's not meaning that Aziraphale doesn't dance at all. He's meaning something more expansive, as we'll look at with the other meanings of dancing below.

The second meaning is a verbal dance. These are interactions between more than one person in which the back-and-forth of what is being spoken has the give-and-take quality of a dance.

There can be different types of verbal dancing. Crowley and Aziraphale's word-nerdy flirting is a kind of verbal dance. It's a birdsong mating dance, especially since they are so hot for words. Being able to verbally entice and keep up with a partner makes flirting-- especially their kind of it-- a kind of dance and it's one they've been doing for thousands of years and both enjoy.

Another type of verbal dance between long-time partners is one that could be dubbed, as Crowley and Aziraphale call it, an "I Was Wrong" dance. This is an apology between partners who had an argument but want to get beyond it. No matter what you think the nature of Crowley & Aziraphale's relationship is, they've known each other for thousands of years and are de facto partnership married at this point so they have An Apology Routine TM. People who have been together a long time and who have the occasional spat often tend to fall into a rhythm with their apologies, knowing what needs to be said to just get to the other side of it, which they'd like to do as soon as possible because they miss each other and don't like being in conflict with one another.

When Aziraphale says he wants "a proper apology... with the little dance" as Crowley tries to get away with not doing the verbal dance that he knows he's going to end up doing lol, what Aziraphale means is that he wants the back-and-forth verbal dance they do as an apology. He doesn't want to just ignore what happened because he was really pissed and he's telling Crowley that he'd appreciate an actual apology and a bit of groveling before he's willing to let it go and move on.

The "little dance" in question isn't a physical dance-- it's basically the same apology dance we saw Crowley do back in S1 here:

When Crowley claimed he doesn't "do the dance" in S2, they both knew that wasn't true and so did we, really, because *points to the above gif* there's Crowley doing the dance in the middle of the street in S1. Claiming he doesn't "do the dance" is sometimes part of the dance if Crowley is the one apologizing as, unless Hell is actively, in that moment, trying to kill him-- like they were in S1-- he gets squirmy about apologies, even if he always eventually says them.

The reason why Crowley does the physical dance that he does during The Apology Dance is actually off of Aziraphale being just as dryly self-deprecating about the two of them and their relationship as Crowley winds up showing he is with The Apology Dance. It's rooted in Aziraphale's use of the word proper.

That word falls into the category in their speak of words like wily, thwart, smitten, demon, fiend, etc.. that have wildly contrasting meanings where they can be said on one level to mean one thing that is acceptable to an audience of angels, demons, or humans, but that also, on another level and within Crowley and Aziraphale's speak, has a funnier, more sexualized meaning.

Proper has an understood meaning of being something that is correct, acceptable, and appropriate. It means decent and respectable. It has a connotation that suggests that something deemed proper falls within the generally-accepted social rules of a society.

Within that word, though? Is the word prop.

I probably do not need to further define that but one sense of the word prop is that it is a theatrical term to describe an object being used in a play. From this, it also come to mean an object being used in sexual play. The humor for Crowley and Aziraphale comes from the fact that proper is a word related to what is considered acceptable in society while bedroom activities involving props have historically been considered "deviant" by those same societies.

The word exists in the sexual meaning in several other scenes in Good Omens. Such as:

Aziraphale in 1941 flirting with Crowley in the magic shop by using the silver rings magic trick as an innuendo-laden stand-in for handcuffs and going on about having a "gift for prop"... and in 2019, when Crowley joked that Aziraphale did not need to do his literal magic act because: "You can do proper magic. You can make things disappear."

Words containing the word thin relate to Crowley and disappear/appear are words with a root meaning of to come into view-- heavy emphasis on the to come part. Crowley sounds like he's talking about Aziraphale's supernatural magic abilities (and he likely also is lol) but he's wording it in such a way as to be really referring to Aziraphale's other skills as a true magician in bed.

Aziraphale, hilariously, teasing Crowley back by joking that making him come is not as fun as pulling a coin out of his ear 😂:

This is also the joke around Aziraphale doing things like popping into view from around corners or doorways or, in my favorite, from the other side of The Bentley in S2, as well as things like Crowley apparating into a space to see Aziraphale. They're magical so they can apparate-- literally appear and disappear from view-- and would do so to meet up with one another at times, as we've seen. It's a visual joke on appear/disappear and the verb to come.

There is also the hilarious "only I can properly thwart the wiles of the demon Crowley" from the deleted 1800 bookshop opening scene-- a sentence made up basically entirely of words with double meaning that make them sound like Aziraphale is saying to Gabriel and Sandalphon that he's the only one who can correctly stop Crowley's evil demonicness when he's also, with the same words, trying to alert Crowley, who has just arrived in the doorway, to the fact that the angels are here to recall him by saying a sentence that is like: but you can't take me back to Heaven! I'm the only one who has the first clue how to shag Crowley right.

So, in S2, Aziraphale is being a bit arch when he says he wants "a proper apology." They both know that he means it in terms of saying he wants a genuine, decent apology and nothing more than that. His dryness in choice and delivery of the word proper is Aziraphale being tongue-in-cheek with Crowley and aligning their history of well-balanced, healthy, sexual power dynamics with the fact that their argument was, at the core, a lot about aspects of trust and control that they *both* struggle with outside of their proper bedroom, where things are very different.

The argument was really a perfect storm of triggering both of their traumas and they both, technically, were right and wrong about things. Aziraphale's apology dance is, essentially, the whole 'our car/our bookshop' that becomes the rest of the season. The reason why it's Crowley doing The Apology Dance, though, is actually less about the subject matter of their argument and more about which one of them fucked up when it came to the stuff the argument shows us that they're working on together.

The argument over Gabriel actually shows us the extent to which they're a couple, in that they've clearly talked about working on things they do which trigger each other's trauma and are trying to be better at it. They're proactively working at trying to get better at arguing, which is the most married thing in creation. This is also indicative of both of them trying to manage different traumas and PTSD that they have and doing the best they can do while still not yet able to fully escape the root causes of those difficulties. That is something which any therapist will tell you is nearly impossible to do but they are both trying anyway and doing a pretty good job of it actually, all things considered. Where can we see this in the argument over Gabriel?

It is in that they each both do something when upset that is a trigger for the other's trauma and has, in the past, caused their discussions to implode, and how they both handle that with one another during this argument. When Aziraphale gets upset and anxious, his anger can take the form of saying words he doesn't mean-- words that are often completely and utterly absurd from an objective standpoint. Think of the bandstand argument, for instance, and Aziraphale's ludicrous attempt to say that he and Crowley aren't friends and-- the best one lol-- that he doesn't even like Crowley.

The audience and Crowley alike know this is bullshit and so does Aziraphale but it's the product of Heaven being a place of emotional repression and Aziraphale's perfectionism, which makes him feel like he's not supposed to ever actually feel the depression and anxiety and anger that he does. When upset, this bubbles up in him and explodes and the results are words he doesn't mean that make him feel terrible, further contribute to his pattern of negative self-thoughts, and hurt Crowley.

In S2, we might also notice, Aziraphale phrases his go-to of telling Crowley it's over as a defense mechanism as saying that Crowley is "at liberty to go", which has an implication that a certain amount of staying was occurring. While Crowley isn't living in the shop to the extent that he's there in the mornings because they're still trying not to get caught, this plus things like "we both get plenty of use out of it [the bookshop], don't we?" indicate that Aziraphale never really notices that Crowley no longer has his flat because Crowley just kind of lives in the bookshop now. He's there every day, to a point that Aziraphale defaulting to his usual anger response of breaking up with Crowley when upset is now phrased in such a way as to try to kick him out of the house. Crowley, though, knows better-- just like how Aziraphale knows better where Crowley's own issues are concerned.

Even though Crowley knows Aziraphale doesn't mean what he says when he's upset and is patient about it (the not even batting an eyelash "you doooo" in response to "I don't even like you" in the bandstand argument), it still hurts. So, that's what Aziraphale is trying to work on and we see that Crowley is working on it with him, an example of that being when Aziraphale is starting to lose it during the Gabriel argument and Crowley's response to it:

Crowley is basically saying honey, you're doing the thing-- and it works. This is what they've agreed upon as a way that Crowley can help Aziraphale when he's upset. He points out that Aziraphale is doing the thing he does, which seems to be something they've agreed on as a strategy for communicating better. He gives Aziraphale room to take a breath and say what he really means. Expressing how he really feels when the emotions are not positive ones is hard for Aziraphale because it involves admitting that he has these emotions in the first place.

So, Aziraphale does his part in their agreement and he rephrases what he was saying into what he actually means: that he would love for Crowley to help him with Gabriel but that if he won't, he won't. He is open about how he feels, which is Aziraphale doing what they agreed to do, and is a world of difference from how they were fighting before. He also expresses it in an especially positive way, as he uses words like 'love' and 'help' to say how he feels and what he needs.

This is why it's Crowley who winds up doing The Apology Dance.

What Crowley does in an argument that triggers Aziraphale is to leave. While, technically, sometimes leaving for a breath is not a terrible strategy in an argument, Crowley's tendency to leave is a flight-or-fight PTSD response that stems from a lack of trust in anyone but himself (and, honestly, often not even himself) to keep him safe. It's honestly not how he really feels about Aziraphale, whom he actually does trust with himself, but he sometimes lets fear and anxiety overwhelm him when triggered by situations in a way that relates to his past traumatic experiences.

Just as Aziraphale's struggle with his more volatile emotions is understandable considering what he's been through, so is Crowley's tendency to panic and bolt. The problem is that, just as Aziraphale's angry words can hurt Crowley, even if he understands where they come from and knows Aziraphale doesn't mean them, Crowley's tendency to leave hurts Aziraphale because it feels to him that Crowley doesn't trust him to make decisions that would keep Crowley safe.

They both are aware that their knee-jerk reactions of running away or sniping in anger are trauma responses and not terribly logical but they're both working on trying to heal enough to not have those responses with one another. In S2, they're stuck trying to manage all of that while still living in an environment that is dangerous for them and in which Armageddon could be around the corner again at any moment-- making it obviously harder to deal with things and also making the fact that they are both doing reasonably well with it all the more impressive and an indicator of how good they are for one another.

(It also makes the end of S2-- a series of miscommunications, some of which are not even their fault, that led to epic fucking disaster-- even more devastating because it doesn't actually reflect the healthy relationship that the beginning of the season emphasizes exists.)

Compounding these issues and part of why they're trying to work on them is that both of them trigger each other's PTSD when they react like this.

Aziraphale's words in anger and his tendency to push Crowley away leave Crowley feeling less secure around the one person who otherwise is the safest person he's ever met while Crowley's tendency to bolt in a panic, instead of staying and working through things, triggers Aziraphale's fear of abandonment (both in general and with Crowley) and, even more so, his terror over losing Crowley.

He's never sure when Crowley goes out the door if he's ever coming back because it's not really safe for him out there and S2 illustrates that Aziraphale has real trauma dating back to the time Crowley was taken in front of him in 1827, shown in him going to the spot in Edinburgh in the present where he lost Crowley and needing to call him from it to hear his voice. And, well, also to get a bonus praise kinky little boost from his partner for a job well done on working on his trauma stuff:

So, long story short, the argument they have over what to do about Gabriel's arrival really illustrates the extent to which they're both trying to manage a great deal of trauma together and, to help one another to do so, they have put some strategies into place for trying to do that more effectively. Aziraphale kept to his end of the bargain in this argument. He used more productive and open words to express how he was feeling. Crowley, though, did not hold up his end of the bargain here. He did when it came to helping Aziraphale with Aziraphale's part of it but he didn't when it came to managing his own trauma.

To be fair to Crowley? This situation was basically the exact perfect storm of a trigger for his PTSD and neither he nor Aziraphale are really going to be able to get much of anywhere significant with healing until all of this Heaven & Hell stuff is over in S3. So, that he fucked this up here is both sympathetic and not terribly surprising. It's also the root of him then spending the season reassuring Aziraphale that he's coming back and part of why he goes out the door in the end of 2.06 but he stays by the car. But, when it comes to just this argument over Gabriel in 2.01, it was Crowley who didn't try and that made Aziraphale upset.

This is where, though, that The Apology Dance shows that they're actually pretty healthy about arguing overall. Just the mention of this having existing for ages is establishing that trying to be better at disagreeing and having this little routine for getting back to a good place and starting to talk more after they've argued is not just something that has existed post-S1 but has been going on for, at minimum, hundreds of years, if not a whole lot longer. In essence, The Apology Dance exists as a bridge back to a place where they are less reactive and can talk through what's upsetting them-- which a lot of evidence suggests they are actually very good at doing with one another.

So, when Aziraphale tells Crowley that he wants "a proper apology", he's already injecting some humor into the moment, even if he is serious about not letting Crowley just skip over genuinely saying he is sorry. He is upset but he also loves Crowley and he's aware that the situation was pretty much the ultimate trigger for Crowley. It's just difficult for Aziraphale to watch because he wants Crowley to feel safe enough to heal more from a lot of this and feels like that he can't fully provide that, even if he is doing everything in his power to help Crowley with it. In a way, it's a foreshadowing how Aziraphale is going to fall in the end of S2 over the temptation of power that he thinks might help Crowley be safe.

The reason why Aziraphale chooses to use the word proper in saying he wants an apology-- and in that particularly dry tone-- is because he is very, very pissed that Crowley walked out the door rather than trusted him to have not put him into danger with Gabriel and to help him manage the situation. He's pointing out that Crowley trusts him implicitly in so many other ways, with the use of the wordplay there being a reference to the fact that he and Crowley have a healthy balance of power and an enormous amount of trust in their relationship overall, for which Aziraphale is using their positive sexual power dynamics as an example.

As different scenes have illustrated, when they mess around with those dynamics, they switch off allowing one another a sense of control over the other, even if the overall dynamics of such situations are never as cut-and-dry as that. The point is that Aziraphale's use of proper here is a direct reference to the fact that Crowley went out the door in a panic-stricken fit earlier but they both know that Crowley does trust Aziraphale to a great degree, and a great example of that to Aziraphale is the fact that Crowley-- as eleven hundred scenes in the show suggest lol-- is very into letting Aziraphale restrain him in bed. The reason why we even know this is because of how the show uses aspects of their sexuality to illustrate the level of trust and intimacy in their relationship.

Just as the wall slam scene in S1 exists to make it abundantly clear how much Aziraphale trusts Crowley and how he has nothing to fear from him by contrasting that with Aziraphale's response to being jumped by the angels in the street, the scenes that are referring to them using restraints, while illustrating that they both do, are centered around Crowley's thing for it, in particular, to help illustrate that he has the same kind of trust in and feeling of safety with Aziraphale that Aziraphale does with him.

The reason why Crowley liking to be tied up or handcuffed is given weight enough that it's a recurring thing mentioned in the story is because of how it's a different level of trust for him than it might be for someone else. While the wall slam scene contrasts Aziraphale's safety with Crowley versus the abuse of the angels, the handcuff thing is showing that Crowley, who is a survivor of attacks that render him unable to move or otherwise assert any control over himself and who has demonstrable PTSD from it, trusts Aziraphale enough and feels safe with him enough to explore with him the complexities of being a survivor of attacks involving a loss of control who also finds sometimes being restrained and giving up some control in bed arousing.

So, Aziraphale's "proper apology" is dryly mocking both of their control and trust issues by use of an example of a place in their relationship where they handle those issues without conflict, and that's in the great communication and ease of care for one another in bed. With use of proper, Aziraphale is subtly pointing out that Crowley is an assault survivor who trusts Aziraphale to him tie him up but he runs out of other situations in a panic, which is an example of the lack of logic that can occur in the face of trauma sometimes. It helps to prove how ridiculous they both are really being in general.

Which Crowley agrees with. Because he knows he was. Trauma isn't logical, it's knee-jerk emotional, and he felt bad about storming out and even worse when he found out from Beez what the repercussions of not helping might be so he's come back, heard the 'proper' comment, and is like fine, yes, you're right. We're ridiculous. I was ridiculous.

This is healthy as all fuck:

It matches the humor Aziraphale put in around his genuine anger with additional humor. It's self-deprecating and ego-free, just an admittance of having messed up and showing he's sorry by being a little ridiculous because how he reacted earlier, he knows, was also a little ridiculous. There's the hearing of proper and responding to that with a mock-submissive, self-deprecating, little dance and a bow and scrape. There's a dry, affectionate mocking of the two of them and their long history of apology conversations that all boil down to the lyrics of the little song Crowley makes up here: "You were right, you were right, I was wrong, and you were right."

The tongue-in-cheek vibe of Yes, you're correct. Are you satisfied now, my king? that pokes gentle fun at both of them and that actually winds up illustrating just how much trust and love there is between them as a result.

Aziraphale finding it hilarious to a point that he's working hard not to laugh long enough to respond with equal humor with the little soft dom-ish "very nice" and then miming a kiss at Crowley showing that they are actually good at this. They allow each other to be imperfect, know how to talk openly about how that makes them feel, and can recover from an argument with humor and affection.

This is also a good example of Crowley being supportive of Aziraphale expressing emotions and of Aziraphale trusting Crowley as someone safe to do that around. Aziraphale told Crowley exactly how he felt and what he needed here in a clear way that expressed his anger and frustration without descension into anything harmful and Crowley listened, acknowledged those emotions, and responded in a way that was supportive and positive.

The argument over Gabriel and The Apology Dance is what their relationship is really like when they can speak openly and directly to one another because they have the safety and privacy to do so. They actually do know how to talk to one another and they do it very well. Their present situation as of the end of S2 is more of a nightmare of unfortunate events and misunderstandings and it actually took a lot to get it to go that wrong because, normally, as we can see? It's relatively easy for them to get it right.

So, Crowley's Apology Dance was both verbal and a literal dance, yes, but Aziraphale's bemused response to it indicates he wasn't expecting the literal dance and the fact that Crowley made up and did the literal dance off of Aziraphale's use of proper, as we looked at, indicates that it was something he did for the first time in that moment, rather than how The Apology Dance usually goes.

The usual nature of Crowley and Aziraphale's "I Was Wrong" Dance is strictly verbal.

We can tell this by one of the years in which Aziraphale mentions that he did an "I Was Wrong" dance in the past: 1793.

When Aziraphale shows that he's really hurt by Crowley leaving and needs him to apologize, he lists three, prior times when it was Aziraphale who had fucked something up between them and was the one doing The Apology Dance as a result. The three years he uses as shorthand are 1650, 1793 and 1941. While we don't know anything about 1650 right now... and while we know about 1941 but not how it ends so maybe not yet quite enough to say we know why Aziraphale was doing an apology dance (though I would argue that maybe 1941 itself is a bit of a joint apology dance)... the one year here we do know enough about to use to inform our opinion about what their apology dances usually are is 1793.

What Aziraphale is apologizing for in 1793 is the rescue scenario winding up a bit of a disaster because of Aziraphale neglecting to take into account that if Jean-Claude The Executioner was having that much fun cutting people's heads off, he probably was disturbing in other ways as well. While Crowley covers up his reaction to apparating into the room just as Aziraphale is saying "no" and Jean-Claude is trying to get his clothes off, by the end of the scene, we see that Crowley is more bothered than he was letting on.

Jean-Claude becomes the only human in the entire series to date that we ever see Crowley intentionally push straight towards Hell and, in doing so, he renders Jean-Claude unable to form more than muted sounds of protest-- not at all projecting his own experiences of assault onto him or anything. Crowley makes the very dark joke that's in the above gif, savagely mocking a so-common-it's-cliche victim-blaming response to rape, making it clear in doing so what's been brought up for him as a result of what he saw when he first came into the room. Crowley is half out of it for the last moments of the scene and, at one point, sniffs like he's trying not to cry. Aziraphale had meant for it to be a fun, dashing-hero-to-the-rescue type of thing but the torture-happy prison cell atop the trauma trigger is what would make Aziraphale feel the need to apologize afterwards, even though Crowley knew he didn't intend any harm.

So, ask yourself this: did Aziraphale apologize for that by doing a silly dance?

I really don't think he did...

It wouldn't have been appropriate. The last thing Aziraphale would have done then is make light of how they both were feeling about something relating to this kind of trauma. It's not to say there wasn't any humor involved-- particularly, their form of really dark gallows humor-- but not in the midst of the genuine, actual apology. Aziraphale's "I Was Wrong" dance in 1793 was a back-and-forth of him verbally apologizing and Crowley insisting that it was fine and then Aziraphale, more or less, you were right and I was wrong-ing with other words until they both were okay to talk more and move forward.

Both of them were alright as a result and clearly had a memorable time in Paris afterwards, as Aziraphale is referencing it as a good example of the two of them working through things together in a positive way when he tells Crowley that Paris, 1793 is what he "wants for lunch" in 2008.

It's really why Aziraphale says he wants 1793 in the first place, when they have a zillion other times he could have referenced. The scene in 2008 is taking place after Crowley went missing the night before on assignment for Hell. Aziraphale doesn't need to be told by this point that Crowley was hurt but they've been in public the entire time since they've met up so there has not yet been a moment to try to really acknowledge it. By bringing up Paris 1793 in response to Crowley saying he wants to lunch, Aziraphale is using it as a shorthand to convey both that he's aware and that they'll handle it, like they always do, and it will all be alright. Paris 1793 seems like it is a particularly memorable example of them managing that to them, so it's the one that Aziraphale brings up.

This also accounts for the discrepancy in Aziraphale's expressions in 2008 when he talks about this particular time. When he first mentions Paris 1793, his response is layered. There's regret mixed in there. Pain. Complicated emotions. His smile to Crowley is kind of flat, like he's trying to remain more upbeat than he actually feels.

It's very different from the cheer of we had crepes! that emerges after Crowley's response to the suggestion is positive. It speaks to Paris 1793 being more complex than only the fun, memorable romp in France that it also was.

So, this would mean that The Apology Dance is usually a verbal thing, even though Crowley did a literal dance along with it in S2. This actually is not terribly surprising because Crowley and Aziraphale's language is an exercise in the literal and the figurative.

Everything in it physically exists as well as figuratively exists and that's part of the fun of it for them. It all has to work on the surface level as well as on other levels. There are literal crepes and figurative crepes, for example, while we're on the 1793 topic. Literal fish-- sushi, gravlax in dill sauce, etc..-- and figurative fish, like the two of them. When Aziraphale asked for "the little dance" of light grovel with the apology, Crowley did that by also giving him a literal dance to go along with their traditionally verbal dance. Why? Because Aziraphale called their apology routine a figurative "little dance", so Crowley gave him a literal one to go with it. Eventually, all the figurative has to be at least a little literal in some way. It's why God made sure that an actual nightingale-the-bird was actually singing in Berkeley Square at the end of S1 as her last language lesson to us. There were then now literal angels dining at The Ritz so a literal nightingale sang in literal Berkeley Square.

The S2 Apology Dance is likely then the first Apology Dance that involved a physical dance. I'm not sure that there were others in the past but I think there definitely will be more going forward and that's a good thing since a bit of silliness is very healthy. 😊

Ok, so, back to the "you don't dance" moment... remember ten years ago when I said there were roughly four meanings of dance?

We've defined two of them already: a literal, physical dance and a verbal dance. The other two are the dance of society and dance as sexual euphemism. Historically, these weren't always mutually exclusive things and Good Omens overlaps them in some ways a bit as well.

The dance of society is being an open, active participant in your society. Even though Aziraphale basically built the society around him through being the founder of the street, we've seen how he tends to keep himself one step removed from life on Whickber Street.

It's best summed up by his relationship to The Whickber Street Shopkeepers & Traders Association: he is a member of it but, until S2, he's never hosted the monthly meeting. He doesn't fully see himself as one of them because, as an angel, he's not supposed to want any of this human living stuff, even if he desperately does. He has imposter syndrome for days, feeling like he's always about to be exposed as not really one of them.

Aziraphale does enjoy himself at times. He does engage with the world around him. He just doesn't allow himself to belong to it and his reasons for doing so are not only about his angel feelings.

The human world hasn't always been a place where he fit, either.

It's only been very recently in history-- and Aziraphale has seen literally *all* of history-- when it has been comparatively safe enough for people like him and Crowley to live more openly. It's still not completely safe, obviously and unfortunately, but there is more general acceptance now, more acknowledged human rights and more laws to help secure those rights.

The things that Crowley was hoping were around the corner in 1967-- when England decriminalized homosexual sex between men over the age of 21 and he suggested that maybe he and Aziraphale could go for broke and try being less of a secret-- actually are here by the present of the story in both S1 and S2.

A lot of that is at the root of the humor in S2 as Gabriel's presence in the shop forces Crowley and Aziraphale out onto Whickber Street in the daylight for the first time and creates scenarios in which the shopkeepers-- chiefly, Nina-- are throwing them off by being more comfortable with having their relationship be acknowledged publicly than they are. Part of the joke is that they're still closeted in London Soho in the year 2023 and the humans cannot understand why because Crowley and Aziraphale can't tell them that it's their supernatural world causing them to remain a secret.

It is only relatively recently in human history that people at formal social gatherings like the ones in England that Aziraphale has been to for years danced with anybody they felt like, regardless of relationship or lack thereof to that person. For many years, while someone might stand up with the occasional maiden aunt out of politeness or whatever, most of the time, a request for a slot on a dance card was a declaration of romantic intent. It was done within the public eye and, while matchmaking was often economical more than romantic, it was at the heart of how society functioned.

To dance, in that sense, was to be a part of society.

Aziraphale was never a part of society in that way. Not just because he's an angel who is supposed to remain above the human fray but because he is queer and society, for a long time, was not built to openly accept him. He was on the fringes of it for both supernatural and human reasons. From what we've seen, literal, physical dancing has always been something of a metaphor for this struggle for Aziraphale.

When Crowley says that Aziraphale doesn't dance-- and it's really more, as we've seen, that Aziraphale doesn't dance in public-- what he means it that Aziraphale keeps himself back from being a fully engaged part of the group, out of a fear that it's not for him because both the supernatural and the human worlds have been teaching him for a long time that it is not.

To host a meeting of the local business association and have everyone to his house for a party... to have Gabriel and Maggie under the same roof... to have everyone knowing that Crowley is his partner... to be able to openly dance with Crowley in front of others like the couple that they are, in the same way that the Chengs and Mutt and his spouse are?

That is to dance.

That is Aziraphale trying for a life he's never had before.

It is this form of dancing-- the dance of society-- that Crowley has never seen Aziraphale do before and why he is so in shock when Aziraphale asks him to dance.

This is where we have to talk about what this has to do with the gavotte, the photo from 1941, Mrs. Sandwich, Duns Scotus, and disco... 🪩Yes, I know. Lots to chat about. 😊

Back in S1, as Crowley traps Hastur in his answering machine, we are treated to one of the best parts of God's narration: Her cheeky take on the human philosophical debate around the question:

"How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?"

The phrase comes from Protestant theologians in the 17th century who were mocking Catholic scholastics like Thomas Aquinas and Duns Scotus-- whose name is quite literally the origin of the word dunce, so overt was the mocking of these dudes' ideas. The show via Crowley also is referring to Duns Scotus in Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings when Crowley mocks the demons by spelling 'residence' as 'residunce' in Aziraphale's entry, joking with him about the fact that the demons will not be able to understand what the entries really contain. So, why the mocking of Duns Scotus and pals?

While it's not totally know if they ever did debate this question exactly, questions very much like it were debated in their circle and others in different parts of the world and these philosophers would get a bit in the weeds in the wrong direction with things. This isn't to say there is a right or a wrong way to think so much as to say the way they chose to approach questions like this was full of absurd focus on the least consequential things someone could look at and failing to really think about how considering these questions at all could impact their understanding of the world around them and contribute to making that world better.

They were not asking questions like: do angels exist in the first place? If they do, do they dance? If so, what makes them want to dance? What would it say about angels and living-- and us and living-- if angels did dance? Why the fuck would they want to dance on the head of a pin when they could dance anywhere? 😂 What does it say about us and our views on angels and ourselves that we're spending a great deal of time and resources debating questions about beings that we cannot even prove fucking exist in the first place?

Instead of considering anything like that, Duns Scotus and pals would spend time just working on the most arcane details of angelic and demonic existences-- on things like trying to figure out if angels could exist in more than one place at once or how small they could get and how they would get that small and how many of them could fit on the proverbial head of a pin and still dance on there?

You know... real, relevant, thought-provoking, big picture questions that we've all asked ourselves at one time or another. 😂

Those mocking questions like this made the question "how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?" a kind of catch-all for pointless debate and it has since become a shorthand phrase meaning basically a bullshit question of no relevance, the debate over which is a colossal fucking waste of time.

Some scholars went so far as to blame those engaging in this type of debate as being responsible for the fall of Constantinople, saying that basically these scholars were sitting around listening to themselves talk on absurd things of no importance to such an extent that it caused mass death and collapsed an empire.

It might be of note then that this question is so notoriously tied to the fall of Constantinople that Good Omens might be winking at the fact that angels dancing around a seamstress might be a prelude to Aziraphale's fall, which some of us think is what's happening at the end of S2.

So, when Hastur and Crowley go into Crowley's answering machine, God jumps in with a little wink to this question in an effort to prevent anyone from focusing on the single most non-important question in all of Good Omens:

How did they get into the answering machine?

The answer to that is that it doesn't matter. They're magical-- that's the answer.

It's not to say that there is not a ton of small detail in Good Omens worth exploring-- and other scenes encourage doing just that, like Shakespeare's "in your role as the audience, could you give us something more to work with?-- but the details worth looking at are ones that will underscore what the story is saying in a bigger picture, thematic sort of way.

God's point here is that if you're hung up on the Magical Technical Whateverness that is stuff like how the angels and demons travel, you're being a bit of a Duns Scotus and trying to solve a mystery that the show has zero intention of ever making be relevant to anything and doesn't really consider much of a mystery in the first place. You can sit there until you're blue in the face doing calculations and looking up scientific explanations and it just simply does not matter. You're barking up the wrong tree because the thing you're talking about has no significant relevance to the story.

"How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?" is basically the olden days, scholarly equivalent of rolling your eyes at half the comments in an online discussion for any sci-fi show that has ever existed. My friend and I call this kind of debate 'Photon Torpedo Jerk-Off' and what I mean by that is this: if you watch an episode of, say, Star Trek, and you think the most important thing to talk about that happened in the episode you just watched is whether or not these writers were accurate about the range of the photon torpedoes when they had the Enterprise blow up that Klingon warship, then you have missed the point of the episode entirely. If you're sitting around arguing about the sci-fi magical Whatever Tech and not talking about the story you've watched, you don't understand the point of what you've watched.

In Good Omens, the reason why God's monologue about how many angels can dance on the head a pin begins when it does is because it is a very sly joke on Duns Scotus-like debate, using the fact that the questions that were absurd to consider in real life are actually-- hilariously-- among the most pertinent to consider where Good Omens is concerned.

God brings up the pin-dancing question as a way to answer the question of what's happening with Crowley and Hastur going through the answering machine. She amusingly doesn't really answer the question and, instead, starts going on about the parts of "how many angel can dance on the head of a pin?" that should have been the bits being debated-- like whether or not angels dance at all and what if means that they do. Basically, Good Omens' response to how the answering machine bit works is "something something electrons" and they're proud of it and they should be because it doesn't fucking matter, which is why God's monologue in the answering machine sequence is really all about the bigger questions of the show and not the Duns Scotus-y question of "but how are they traveling through the telephone system exactly?" God simply just says that they are and moves onto more relevant things.

Even though the original debate over questions like "how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?" was theological and philosophical, the thoughts behind the absurdity of it very much apply to interpreting works of art. Because of its ties to religion and to angels, it makes for a very humorous way of telling the Good Omens audience that they will not really be explaining much of anything regarding to the technical whatzits of how angels and demons travel through electricity and things like that because that could not be less relevant to understanding the story.

The question "how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?", at one point, also had several variants. One was the same question but wondering how many demons could dance on the head of a pin, while others involved whether or not angels were "sexless"-- a question that was so confusing at the time that several sub-variants emerged as a result because people weren't entirely sure what that question meant...

Was the question asking if angels had a biological sex-- and, if so, was it asking if they had sex organs? Was it asking if the angels had a form of gender which, at the time and with these theologians, was mostly a question of whether or not angels could be what humans would have called male or female, with gender binary ideas of what that would mean intact? Many others thought a question of whether or not angels were sexless might be more directly about whether or not angels had sex.

(Amusingly, that question didn't really ever get asked about demons, as the sexuality around demonic lore has always been pretty notorious.)

The problem with these questions being asked by theologians is that they never took the opportunity to reflect on what it might say about humans and our societies that we thought these the most pertinent questions to answer about angels and demons. They never stopped and thought about the fact that to ask these questions meant they were not sure that this supernatural world that they believed in had the same sort of structure when it came to things like gender, sex and sexuality that humans do and how that is where the more interesting thoughts exist. Just by asking those questions, you could start to follow a path that maybe suggested that they were different from humans and it might be better if humans emulated some of those ideas, right?

But that's definitely not where these guys took this...

When scholastics would approach questions like this, they'd do so to make the concepts of angels and demons fit more securely into the worldview they were promoting. The very conservative would usually say that angels were genderless and also usually "above" sex and things like this reinforced their holiness. The demons could usually fuck because they were evil and nephilim and the like made for the usual brand of good, scary, weirdly sexual Bible stuff. The ones that did think that angels did gender thought angels thought about it in the same very rigidly binary and traditional ways of most societies.

In other words? Theologians took the mythical creatures of angels and demons and made their theories about them fit human societies to further their own, human goals, instead of using angels and demons to reflect upon those human societies and consider how different viewpoints might improve them.

Good Omens is completely sending up this mindset.

In Good Omens, the supernatural characters are a way of poking fun at these kind of humans who approach ideas about what angels and demons might be like with such rigidity and treat their fellow humans in the same way. The angels and demons are basically all queer in human terms by default because, in Heaven/Hell, gender is a constellation, biological sex is a 'do whatever you want with that, if anything at all', and, just like with the humans, asexuality and sexuality and everything along every possible spectrum related to it all exist. For the most part, human prejudice does not exist-- though prejudice itself does, in the form of the "other"-izing of the demons. Some of that human prejudice has slipped through-- see: Sandalphon-- but it's not as ubiquitous as it is on Earth.

The angels and demons in Good Omens come from a world where everyone is sort of assumed straight-out-of-the-box non-binary by default and queerness is more normalized because when your concept of gender begins without rigid ideas about what that is, damn near everyone winds up being what humans would refer to as queer because that umbrella is then basically anyone other than a cisgendered, heterosexual person... and what is a cisgendered, heterosexual person when gender is design-your-own-concept-of-this from the get-go? How would anyone be heterosexual, when the definition of that is rooted in binary views on gender that do not exist in the supernatural world of Good Omens?

The point of all of it is that if humans thought this way about one another more, the world would be a better place. Good Omens is a story about angels and demons that is using them to ask questions about humanity of a lot more value than "how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?" but, ironically? Some questions that come about as a result of considering that question in a different way-- as God helps us to do with her monologue-- like the question of whether or not angels dance and consideration of what that might mean-- are examples of some of best questions to ask to get to the heart of what Good Omens is saying and what it's story is all about.

In Good Omens, neither the supernatural world nor the human world are perfect. The supernatural characters seek to learn how to really live from the humans but the humans have a thing or two to learn about themselves that the supernatural beings-- with their choose-your-own-adventure ideas relating to gender, in particular-- could show them when it comes to true freedom.

If we made like the supernatural world of Good Omens and placed less focus on defining and labeling gender and sexuality in such strict terms and just looked at everyone else as fellow people and let people present themselves as they like and identify as they like and be attracted to who they're attracted to and love who they love, we'd just be seeing each other all as people-- which is what we all are.

It's also the point of the intentional vagueness of Gabriel's whole situation during his naked arrival in 2.01.

There is a fuckton happening in this scene but one of the biggest is the decision to make it unclear as to what was behind the box-- and that's the point. Are there a couple of hints here and there? Sure. You can make arguments in different directions and, for sure, the decision to make it vague, instead of including a suggestion that Gabriel's for sure Don Drapering it in that moment is a whole decision in and of itself. The point, though, is not to fixate on determining what, if any, situation Gabriel was rocking during his rather challenging Monday morning in S2 but to just ask yourself why it would matter to know?

There's nothing wrong with some idle curiosity, I don't think, but the ambiguity is the point. What would it matter if Gabriel was running in angelic neutral or sporting, as I think the scene is suggesting, some lady parts for the morning? It doesn't change anything about Gabriel because only humans would look at Gabriel and assume that he has a penis and find it shocking if he didn't because many of us are that limited in thought. Only humans would box (bad, unintentional pun lol) him into pronouns as a result and try to tell him that he can't use he/him if he sometimes doesn't have that penis.

All these humans are looking at his body and judging it-- who gives them the right?

Whatever you feel about Gabriel, you do feel for him in that moment because no one deserves to have their body judged by a zillion critical strangers... and isn't that what many of us are doing online? Isn't that what a lot of humans do about everything from gender to sexuality to weight and looks? We categorize and label and put all of these parameters on meeting the standards of those categories when none of it matters and everyone is unique and beautiful in their own ways.

The genius of the supernatural characters in Good Omens is that, in so many ways, they are not free and a lot of their issues overlap with those of the humans but in real, fundamental ways, they have default mindsets that humanity could really benefit from adopting. The Gabriel arrival scene underlines it by turning the camera back around on us by showing us an example of a very masculine person by traditional human standards, implying that his genitalia might differ from what we've been conditioned to expect from a person with his looks, and then making us consider how we feel about that and if maybe the whole idea of these kind of expectations isn't bullshit in the first place.

So... while Good Omens is sending up the limited mindset of the Duns Scotuses of the world, the joke with God's monologue is that, in the context of Good Omens itself?

From the standpoint of this story?

The related questions about angels and dancing and gender and sex that arise from asking the question: "How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?" are excellent questions.

They happen to be questions that, if you're asking them, you're getting into many of the themes of the story and you're looking at how the story is using angels and demons to talk about the experience of human living. What does matter in understanding the story of Good Omens is, ironically, the dumbass questions that these humans were asking back in the day about dancing angels and demons and their relationships to human ideas about gender, sex and sexuality at which Good Omens is poking more than a little fun.

To add to this, we also have the very funny way in which God presents the answers to these questions to us and that involves a wink towards the last type of dancing-- dancing as sexual euphemism.

In the original question of "how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?", the reason why it's a pin is obviously that pins are very, very small but it was sometimes referred to as well as a question of how many angels could dance on the head of a needle? This was because the detractors of this school of thought were creating puns, so they could call the debate of the question things like a "needless point" in their writings-- very Good Omens-y humorous of them. 😊 We're also now bringing into to conversation via needles and pins language related to the make and repair of clothes-- seamstress work-- as being tied to questions of sex and dancing as sexually euphemistic.

The visuals shown to us during God's monologue include Crowley and Aziraphale dancing separately, in different eras, with other beings-- Aziraphale with some humans and Crowley with some demons-- but with an undertone of sex in both scenes that gets at dancing as sexual euphemism. In Crowley's scene in the 1970s/very early 1980s, he and Hastur and Ligur are in some trippy disco sequence in which they are dancing with a pin but the pin is being used as different kinds of sexual dance-related poles.

This is a visual parallel of the innuendo around seamstress-related language in the series, with a pin-- a tool used by those who make and mend clothes-- being used as a pole, highlighting a (hilariously-presented) aspect of sexuality in dance. Mrs. Sandwich runs a bordello but the coded 19th century-era speech of Aziraphale's magic during The Meeting Ball results in her attempting to describe the sex work menu of her girls as being coded in the language of those who make and mend clothes. This comes from sex workers writing on government forms the 19th century that they were seamstresses to evade authorities (why Mrs. Sandwich says her girls stand on their own two feet "like the government said") and a use of seamstress language as euphemistic for sex that overlapped into coded slang of, in particular, homosexual men.

In one part of the disco sequence, Hastur, Ligur and Crowley are going around the pin like it's a maypole, which were involved in courtship rituals and fertility dances. In another moment, the three of them then turn the pin into a stripper pole and bust out some exotic dancing moves, all less using the pin/pole as prop in a seduction of someone else but more seemingly in place of that someone else, with exactly zero awareness of one another.

What the living fuck is this scene, really? 😂 Is the pin really large? Are they very small? Why can I still not stop laughing at the fact that they aren't dancing on the *head* of a pin but with it? Is Hastur trying to make out with the pole? Did Ligur really invent part of The Macarena decades ahead of its time? What perspective is this scene supposed to be shot from? lol Are we all just assumed high at this point from the disco lights and general trippiness of the sequence? Are any of these the most important questions of this sequence? Not by a long shot lol...

*tilts head* hiiiii Crowley...

What's that? Oh, sorry, right, finishing up the epic journey that is this meta... Yes, yes, sorry. Got distracted by the dancing snake... Which reminds me!

We can't talk about dancing as sexual euphemism without mentioning that the little glimpse into Crowley's bedroom in S1 that we see shows us that he has a wooden figurine of a dancing snake on a table in the corner, which seems like a wink towards Crowley and Aziraphale joking about being like the magician or musician who would play music to "charm" snakes into dancing for them. Crowley kept the dancing snake figurine in his bedroom so that is probably the ultimate in dancing as a sexual euphemism possible and it's another indicator that it's hardly the idea of dancing together being a form of sexual overture that has Crowley so confused when he says "you don't dance" in S2. Dancing, in that sense, is not new to them.

So, God's monologue is winking pretty heavily at dance-as-sexual-euphemism. In showing the dancing this way, God is using dancing to mean both literal dancing (as in, when she describes that Aziraphale is the only angel who dances-as-in-moves-to-music because he learned the gavotte) and also as an answer to the question of whether or not some of the angels and demons have sex. While not all of them do or have interest in doing so-- just like with the humans-- having Crowley and Aziraphale both exhibit a sense of sexuality in the dancing scenes here is more than a little suggestive of the fact that they both do.

So, how does that fit into our whole idea of dancing as it relates to a being a part of society?

Both Crowley and Aziraphale are shown dancing in different situations in different eras in which queer people existing on the fringes of society found a place in which they could express themselves-- but they are very different ways of expression.

Aziraphale learns to dance in a private club for wealthy, gay gentlemen and that is the only place in which he dances because he can do so freely there without too much concern that it will have repercussions for him in both his supernatural and his human worlds. Everyone there in the club is someone who also has a sense of secrecy and a need for discretion in common and they're all well-connected enough to ensure that their privacy remains intact. It's through basically finding a safe space in this club that Aziraphale can have a microcosm of what it would be like to exist more openly in the larger society as a whole.

Crowley, on the other hand?

While Crowley also lived through all of these eras alongside Aziraphale and had the same types of social limitations, we see him dancing openly in the liberation of the disco era. Disco changed everything. It was full of people who had never fit into society and gave voice to, in particular, more female, Black and queer people than ever before. The eventual backlash to disco had nothing to do with the music and everything to do with the changing attitudes about race, gender, sexual orientation, and sex itself at the heart of it.

The difference here is that disco was free to a point that you could dance with anybody. You and your friends could dance, you could dance with someone you wanted to hook up with, you could dance around to it in your house with your family. It didn't matter. While people had long since abandoned the formal rules of dance in mainstream society that existed in the eras of Jane Austen, by the time disco turned up, popular dance had freed itself to being just about self-expression and having fun. It was still sexy but it was no longer playing a formal role in the matchmaking process of people in society. It's about having fun and doing so in the open and much more free.

This is where we're going to look at what your question has to do with the gavotte and Aziraphale's cotillion ball in S2...

The gavotte scene in S1 is one of the most fascinating scenes in the series because nothing else like it exists in terms of how it is filmed. The scene of Aziraphale dancing the gavotte is filmed in such a way as to suggest we are actually watching a video of him doing so. Part of this comes from the lighting, the slightly jumpy 'old time movie' feel of the scene. But, it also comes from the fact that Aziraphale looks directly into the camera at several moments during the scene, in such a way that it makes it feel like he's not looking at *us* in a fourth-wall-breaking sort of way but that he's looking at a camera that exists within The Hundred Guineas Club and is filming them dancing.

This was likely possible at the time, especially in a club patronized by wealthy men. The Lumiere brothers patented the first movie-making cameras in 1895 so it could be argued that Aziraphale and friends are being filmed using a prototype of that technology. (A bit of film-related technology being a bit too early for the time by our human history standards is also shown on Good Omens in S2, when Furfur has a Polaroid camera just under a decade or so too soon, though some prototypes were in development not long after the time Furfur was shown with one.)

The point is that Aziraphale looks like he's letting himself be recorded dancing. Actually, the point is that Aziraphale looks like he is loving letting himself be recorded dancing and that's an enormous thing...

Think back to 1941 for a moment. Crowley and Aziraphale were nearly killed over the picture Furfur took of the two of them together. No audio/visual evidence of the two of them together exists. If they kept the picture, they've hidden it really, really well because they've been terrified of anyone finding them out. Does this recording of Aziraphale still exist, though? Does he have it? Was he going to show Crowley, maybe after everyone left The Meeting Ball?

Living-- existing-- can mean having a record of that existence. That's actually at the heart of the meta I wrote recently about Aziraphale's excitement over getting the Shostakovich record being about having a recording of a performance with history to him and Crowley.

Being a part of the world can mean letting yourself be a documented part of it.

We are shown that, in the late 1880s, Aziraphale let himself be recorded on video dancing with some human friends... which is to say that Aziraphale let himself live.

He let himself find some kindred spirits, learn something new, be an active participant in a group, and enjoy himself. He let all of that be documented and his kind of manic, unbridled joy over all of it is the mark of how rare a thing this level of engagement is for him.

So, why did he?

Why this dance? What does this have to do with The Meeting Ball?

Notice the backdrop of this scene. Other than Aziraphale and the other gentleman and the walls, there is really only one thing of note in the scene and it is in focus for much of the scene: the chandelier.

The gavotte is both a specific kind of dance and a kind of umbrella term for French folk dances from the 16th-18th centuries and a separate, different dance in the 19th century. It was apparently popular in the court of King Louis XIV, whose reign is referred to several times in Good Omens. (Crowley's gauche imitation Louis XIV furniture in his flat in S1; he was king in the time mentioned by Aziraphale in the French scene in S2; his mistress being Madame du Pompadour, historically credited with originating the hairstyle worn by Crowley since prior to Earth's existence, etc....)

Gavotte comes from gavoto, which meant mountaineer's dance or the dance of the mountain people and which, in turn, came from gavot, which meant a boor and a glutton. A boor is a country person or a farmer but it comes from the Latin bovis, meaning a cow or an ox. Etymologically-speaking? Of course this is the dance Aziraphale learned because the gavotte is a French dance of the ox glutton who enjoys a good "mountain" climb.

(The theory that they wrote The Sound of Music lives on. 😂)

Aziraphale learned the gavotte, of all dances, because he knew that Crowley would find the two of them dancing together to this dance in particular very amusing. He learned this dance in the late 1880s, likely with the intent of maybe, someday, being able to dance it with Crowley, which is likely why he was he was annoyed when it went out of style.

Still, we could theorize that one of the reasons why he allowed himself to be filmed dancing it is to have a record of his efforts to learn it-- not just for Crowley but in general-- and that maybe the chandelier in the bookshop is the one from his long-since-closed gentleman's club. It all shows that Aziraphale has wanted to dance, openly and publicly, both in general and with Crowley, for a very long time.

One of the reasons why he likely miracled everyone into 19th century speak during The Meeting Ball and brought down the chandelier and old style dancing was so that he could finally do just that. It isn't so much that Aziraphale needs to stick to old-fashioned dancing in general as it is that he just wanted to have an experience like those of other humans during that time that he wasn't allowed then to have-- by the rules of the human world, not just because of the dangers from his supernatural world.

But it's 2023 in S2 now. Queer people have been able to get married in England for a decade and partnership rights have been around for even longer. Mutt and his spouse's relationship would have been illegal in nine different ways barely a breath ago but they can live openly now. Gabriel has left Heaven and moved into the guest room. Things feel like there's a chance of change everywhere and Aziraphale has just had it and can't take one more night of Crowley slipping out before dawn so this whole "Maggie and Nina" party?

Do you remember how Aziraphale phrased the idea to Crowley?

Cotillion balls aren't just any ball. While cotillion was a style of country dance kind of like the gavotte, a cotillion ball was a coming out ball for young ladies in society. In parts of the world, they still exist, sometimes called now debutante balls.

What's so endearing about Aziraphale fixating on this idea is that a) Maggie and Nina are both women, which is not a match that would have been sanctioned by a cotillion ball in Jane Austen's day, which makes it sweet that Aziraphale is, in a way, trying to give this traditionally romantic idea of love at a dance to a pair of women who would not have had it be an option for them, historically, which is something to which he can relate but also b) Aziraphale is just really semi-consciously using the idea of a party styled after a coming out ball for women in society as his thinly-veiled excuse to have a coming out party of a different kind, of sorts, for himself and Crowley.

Aziraphale isn't closeted in the sense that he's not actively trying to convince anyone that he's straight (good Frances, what a waste of effort that would be lol) but he'd like to be just like everyone else and not have to hide his partner. In the scene where Mrs. Cheng tells him that she and her husband will be at the party, for example, Aziraphale has this kind of wistful look for a moment. He wants that. He'd like to just be chatting with the neighbors and tell them that yes, definitely, he and his husband will be by later on. It's a season of things like Muriel literally opening the door to them hiding in a closet to talk privately and Crowley insisting in the street to Nina that Aziraphale is not his partner but then saying nothing to correct her when she refers to Aziraphale that way when they're in the bookshop. It's Mrs. Sandwich knowing Crowley in part because she sees him slip out the bookshop side door every night but Nina not knowing him in 2.01 because they're hiding the fact that they're a couple so morning coffee is never a thing until it is in S2. The Meeting Ball is Aziraphale taking steps towards them no longer hiding it by having people over when Crowley is there and letting everyone know or assume that Crowley is his partner.

The party is really for Crowley. Having everyone speak outside of time, the theatre curtains, Gabriel circling with trays of food (which was honestly so funny-- The Supreme Archangel walking around all "try an ox rib" to everyone), the vol-au-vents (etymologically linked to nightingales and some of them seemed like they might have been oyster vol-au-vents), etc.. He did it all to dance with Crowley and ask him to stay.

These two are fucking adorable. Look at this angel, I mean, seriously:

Aziraphale has been hitting that since ancient Rome and he's over here, nervous and giddy like he's at his first middle school dance, so fucking excited to ask that dashing ginger currently having an anxiety attack to dance. They have been basically married for millennia and Aziraphale is standing there like I'm going to ask him, I'm going to really do it, I'm going to hold his hand and dance with him in front of everybody and they're all going to know he's mine. We're going to be like everybody else-- just people on Earth.

It's so damn cute.

So, lastly, there's one thing we have to talk about when it comes to dancing and that's the fact that it is a form of self-expression. This is where Aziraphale and his perfectionism come into play a little.

God, in S1, said that not dancing is one of "the distinguishing" features of angels and that Aziraphale, through learning the gavotte, is the only angel who dances (at least, in terms of literally dancing.) This contrasts with the demons, who all dance, though many of them are not particularly good at it. This is the fundamental difference between angels and demons.

The demons are all demons because they were all willing to express themselves as individuals, which is what dancing fundamentally is. The reason why Aziraphale is the only angel who dances in S1 is because the other angels who know how to dance are all now demons.

Dancing means putting yourself out there a bit. You have to be willing to make some mistakes. You have to be willing to look potentially silly in front of other people and learn to not care as much about it. You have to take some chances. You have to engage with others if you want to dance with other people-- so, you have to participate in the world around you a bit. You have to try new things, like hearing new music and learning new ways to move. You have to be your own person, in the sense that you have to have music you like to move to and decide what you'll look like doing that. You have to let yourself take up some space and work hard at shutting off your damn brain enough to enjoy it.

In the 1941, Part 2 scene that we started this meta out with, we saw Aziraphale openly dancing a bit in front of Crowley, a sign of how comfortable he was and is with him. He doesn't have to be perfect around Crowley. Just as Crowley doesn't have to be perfect around him and is willing to look ridiculous to around him, as in the case of The Apology Dance. Being able to be silly and vulnerable is a sign of trust. When you can lean on people you trust and have that kind of intimacy with them, it can make you feel braver to take some risks in the world as a whole. If you let one person in enough and learn how to dance in one or more ways with just them, you'll eventually feel like you can dance free, no matter who is watching.

In the same scene, Aziraphale admits to his conflicts over going to Goldstone's and how he worries that maybe the things in life that he enjoys are "for professional conjurers only"-- for humans only-- with Crowley helping to quiet that imposter syndrome noise in Aziraphale's mind. Crowley's gentleness and the care in his response are examples of why he is who Aziraphale chooses as a partner and why it's with him that he's long-dreamed of having be his dancing partner when he finally is able to publicly dance alongside others at a ball.

Aziraphale is equally considerate in how he treats Crowley and is not put off by spending their first dance in public together essentially trying to calm what he thinks at first is just Crowley's usual level of anxiety talking, knowing Crowley well enough to know that, for all his talk about wanting to live a more open life together, he's as afraid as Aziraphale is. Crowley is dancing anyway. Aziraphale wants to so that's enough for Crowley to do so.

Aziraphale doesn't need some perfectly smooth first dance out together-- though they dance easily and very well together. It doesn't matter how long he's waited. He cares more about trying to reassure Crowley and ease his stress. They actually aren't as safe as Aziraphale believes them to be at this moment but it's the intent that's sweet. He knows this dance is as scary as it is lovely and, as always, it's important to him that Crowley feel safe.

You have to admit that you're a person to dance.

That's what the dancing is all about.

You have to admit that you have a life and to start to accept that you are allowed one. You have to accept yourself as part of a community to publicly dance with a group. You have to feel ready to host the monthly meeting of The Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Traders Association because to do so is to be a participating member in a community and to be a participating member in a community is to be a person living a life on Earth.

It's not surprising, then, that when Aziraphale gets to a point-- a very delicate point but a point, nonetheless-- of feeling like it might be time for him to claim that life for himself, doing so begins with the first night that he's ever been able to be at a party and, just like a zillion other people before him, ask his partner to dance.

[hford0311]

Winter fun

Pairing: *1940s!Bucky x fem!reader*

*First a little flash back to the '20s*

Even as a child, Bucky would tolerate the snow, the ice, the cold. He would stay out just as long as he needed to before going back inside. You, meanwhile, would always race for your coat, hat, and everything in between when you saw the white fluff falling from the sky.

Today was no different. You woke to see the white powder outside your window, filling the street and sidewalk. You gave a small squeal, quickly dressing in your warmest sweater, socks tights, and skirt then re-discovering your winter outerwear. "Mama! I'm going outside!" You called in the apartment right before you shut the door behind you. "Wait!" Your mother called after you, making you pause halfway down the staircase. She just managed to put her robe and slippers on before she opened the door. "You're not going outside alone." You groaned and whined. One of the doors a floor above your mother opened. "Go, shoo, and I don't want to see you back at this door until dinner!" Mrs. Barnes' voice told her oldest children. "Bucky, Rebecca, Y/n is waiting to go outside with you!" Your own mother responded to the door being shut.

Next thing you know, all three of you were playing outside. You couldn't get enough. Snow angels, catching the fresh snow on your tongue! Rebecca whispered a dare to you. You giggled at the idea and nodded. A small ball of snow molded in between your mittens. You peaked over the small fort of snow and tossed it at the back of Bucky's head. "Hey!" He yelled in protest. You quickly slumped against the wall of snow, giggling with Rebecca. It was always fun to get a rise out of Bucky when it came to a grand victory, especially with the two year age difference. Winning over an older boy was a huge brag. "Nice throw, but he's gonna be mad once when he finds out it was you." Rebecca whispered. "I can take it. I love the snow. Bucky is a baby and hates it." You whispered back. "Y/n, Rebecca, if that was you, you better come out or there'll be trouble!" Bucky called the warning. You giggled. Rebecca almost stood, but you pulled her down. "Let him squirm," you threw another snowball at his face.

*December 1941*

Snowball fights and snow angels had now advanced to ice-skating as you grew over the next ten years. Plus, you learned it was an excellent excuse to hold onto your date from the last two years, not that you ever really got to do that. Your skills were good enough for some tricks, so it never bothered you much. You dressed in your warmest clothes and started up the stairs of the apartment building. You knocked on the Barnes' family door. "Rebecca!" You called, ice-skates dangling from your shoulders. She opened her door, ready to go. Bucky a few steps behind her. "You two can wait downstairs, I'll grab Steve." The oldest of your trio stated. A bit of shock hit. Rebecca grabbed your arm, walking downstairs. "Sorry, Mom insisted that James come with us. Turns out, she end up didn't forget how we came home late last year. So, it was big brother or nothing." She rolled your eyes. You secretly didn't mind. "I still think it was worth it." You stated. Affection had grown in your heart for the only male Barnes. However, you never did tell Rebecca that.

The four of you trekked your way to the less-populated skating pond. Less people meant more room for you to try tricks and Steve could go at whatever pace he felt comfortable without glares or odd looks from others. "Yes! Look! No one's here yet!" You exclaimed and raced to the bench closest to the pond and traded your boots for skates.

Hours were spent on that little pond. However, you never got bored of it or let the cold bother you. "Y/n, let's go, the sun's starting to set!" Bucky called to you from the bench. Rebecca and Steve were waiting at the top of the hill. "Okay, just let me do one more go of it." You responded and skated across the pond, getting closer to the center. "Don't get so close to the center!" Steve yelled. You rolled your eyes and kept circling, inching closer to the middle. "It's thick enough, Steve!" You leaped and twirled. Bucky sighed as he noticed the other pair starting to shiver. "Head on back, we'll catch up with you."

Crash! Splash! Screams!

"Oh, shit!" Bucky exclaimed and ran down to the pond. All of them could only see the circle of broken ice and your splashing arms. "Bucky! Be careful!" Rebecca yelled as her brother got on the ice with his boots.

You don't remember how you got there, but you were now right outside of the building, body slumped against Bucky's chest and shoulders as he carried you. "Cold," you murmured into his ear. "I know, we'll be inside soon." He comforted.

Steve went home, Rebecca helped you change into dry clothes as Bucky did the same on his own. "You're lucky," she mentioned as you got under the blankets on your bed. "I know." She sighed and sat next to you. "If Bucky wasn't there- I-" you grabbed her hand. "Don't think about it. I'm fine." You tried to convince her. The man of the hour then appeared in the doorframe. "Mom needs you," he mentioned to Rebecca. "I'll keep an eye on her." The siblings traded places.

This time, Bucky grasped your hand, "Still pretty cold," you nodded along with him. "Scoot over," he stated, standing and taking off his second pair of shoes. You obeyed. He managed to get under the blankets and wrapped his barely warmer body around yours. "We'll warm each other up." Your foreheads were pressed together. "Thank you...you saved me." You whispered. "Anyone would've-" "No," Bucky hushed you and kissed your forehead. His blue eyes met yours. "Still cold?" He questioned. Your head nodded. "Let me fix that," he breathed and pressed his lips against yours letting the warmth spread.

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Musings - Tentative Timeline (Pt1: 1940 - 1948)

I've been struggling with this for a while, cuz this ish just don't make sense, AMC. (I fully expect S3 to gotcha/retcon/fix stuff, esp. since who knows what Armand's tinkered around with in Louis' head.) I split this timeline in 2 parts: Pt1 has everything from 2x1 - 2x6ish; and then ofc Pt2 will cover as much as I can understand from the Trial's shenanigans.

(I'm just one person tryna figure out wtf is going on, so if y'all have any insights, please share!)

1940 - 1945

Claudia & Louis cross Eastern Europe (2x1)

pre-February 6, 1940: Mardi Gras, NOLA.

1x7 diary entry (x x): "Dear Diary, I've been planning the trip out in my head. When we get to Europe, we aren't going to look at any of the touristy sights. We are instead going straight to the Black Sea and then on to the Carpathian Mountains. Those are the places I've been reading about in the books I've brought with me. We had to learn so much…." (Carpathian countries inc. Austria, Czech Republic, Hungary, Poland, Romania, Serbia, Slovak Republic, and Ukraine.)

Roget (2x2): "We have not heard from Monsieur de Lioncourt since February 1940, when we processed several wires for him, for a party he was throwing."

September 8, 1941: 1x4 diary entry, Ploiesti, Romania: "The POWs are malnourished, nothing but bone and sinew. Their blood is bitter. It almost makes you feel sick to drink it. Catch 'em as they trudge from their work in the oil fields every night. They don't have much strength to fight..." (Ploiesti bombed for its oil from 1941-1944.)

1944: Madeleine's head is shaved during Paris' épuration légale along with the other Nazi collaborators. (An IRL photo from June 21, 1944.) France's Nazi occupied Vichy regime: July 10, 1940 - August 9, 1944. [see De Gaulle below]

Pre-1945: Cross from Ukraine into Nazi Romania (again). Claudia is speaking German to the Nazi at the checkpoint, who says "Black Ukranian? Waffen-SS, Checkpoint 30317."

DREAMSTAT: "Four years of grim wayfaring, and still no sight of the benevolent vampire."

April 30, 1945: "In Germany, Herr Hitler had popped a pill in his bunker, and Europe celebrated."

1944 / 1945: "But in Romania, the champagne fizzled and went flat. Soviets replaced Nazis.... War became occupation." (Soviet occupation of Romania lasted from 1944 - 1958.) Stopped by the racist Soviets in Emilia's town.

Post-April 30, 1945: 2x1 radio announcement: "The triumph over Hitler's evil can be felt throughout France, and in no more fantastic an example than the priceless works of art being bundled up in the countryside, lifted on to trucks and returned to their rightful place in Paris. And we of the BBC World Service, speaking for the rest of the western world, send a most grateful thank you to our allies in France with one of your very own. ['Y'a Pas D'Printemps' by Edith Piaf plays]."

1944 / 1945: "There is No Spring” by Edith Piaf is recorded July 4, 1944.

Late June, 1945: Louis & Claudia leave Romania (after Emilia & Daciana died); near the 1-year anniversary of There is No Spring; right before Venus de Milo was about to head to Paris along with the rest of the "priceless works of art being bundled up."

July 2, 1945: Venus de Milo officially returns to the Louvre. Louis & Claudia arrived in Paris with it. (August 1945: Louvre reopened.) "Claudia was entirely broken. She had left a part of herself in Romania. I knew I had to steer her far away from it. I chose the city that called to us on the radio. To the mother of New Orleans.... The war had turned off the lights, stripped its streets of their beauty, sent its avant-garde into exile. But now, the whole world was ready to return, to remake their lives. Pilgrims on their hopeful way."

1945

Claudia & Louis in Post-War Paris (2x2)

1944 - 1946: Charles De Gaulle chairs the Provisional Government of the French Republic June 3, 1944 - January 26, 1946. "De Gaulle's Paris had me etherized. If Claudia and I were looking over our shoulder at all, it was in astonishment our skin did not attract the same attention it did in America."

May 8, 1945: France's Sétif and Guelma Massacre of Algierian citizens (Franco-Algerian relations evaporated). DANIEL: "Right, because there wasn't any racism in mid-20th century France. I think your Algerian inferiors of the time might disagree." LOUIS: "But I wasn't an Algerian. I was an American, and if there was an assumption that I'd arrived to blow a trumpet or sing for my supper, it did not register as a slight in those days. I was just grateful knowing no one wanted to lynch me, or direct me to the far end of the café counter!"

1944 - 1949: Black markets & rationing chokehold over Paris.

LOUIS: "We hid ourselves away in an inconspicuous apartment in Le Neuvieme, passing ourselves off as moneyed Americans, over-spending for black market baguettes. It was the perfect cover."

ARMAND: "The estate of the family De LaCroix. Whilst their countrymen clutch ration cards, they've made quite a killing manipulating the black markets."

1945 - 1950: Paris' economy impoverished. "No salt, no butter. Can't have milk unless you got a newborn. And read here, 'Hospitals running low on Plaster-of-Paris for a record number of broken bones due to decalcification and undernourishment.' You want francs in pockets? These people are broke! I saw a woman tonight in a patchy five-year-old dress putting on a brand new lipstick.... Paris is on her way back. Give her a little time, is all."

LOUIS: "Five months of anxiety-producing choices, and not one 'bonjour,' or 'prépare-toi à mourir'?!"

ARMAND: "Five months removed from their velvet-heeled arrival, the Americans were finally coming to Pigalle."

SANTIAGO: "Five months of nights. Five insolent months of nights, waiting for you to humble us with your appearance. I ask you, Maitre, was it worth the wait?"

November 1945: Armand confronts Louis; invites Louis & Claudia to the Theatre des Vampires. (June to November is 5 months.) (ARMAND: "I had lost patience. I was convinced we were being toyed with and I could hold back the coven only so long. I knew the park well myself, knew what went on in the rambles there, so I was not surprised to find him without the girl. I would confront the elder, and make him aware of the ways rogue vampires were dealt with in Paris.")

LOUIS: Armand knows all about Lestat. CLAUDIA: How long's he known?! LOUIS: The whole time. Read our minds, first night at the theater.

November 14, 1945: 1x4 diary entry: "We've arrived in Paris, what a relief! My whole dead self feels revitalized head to toe. We might be outsiders to both human and Parisian life, but I do appreciate both now with such fervor! Granted, I've never hated my body [more]...." This also matches with Claudia meeting Madeleine and wanting clothes tailored to her size. And also with Louis remarking that it was only at the Theatre that "Claudia absolutely loved them. And it was the first time in Paris I had seen a smile or a laugh come out of her that wasn't for my benefit." By mid-November, Claudia's unhappy mood had vastly improved.

mid-December 1945: The coven hunt at Chateau de la Croix. "Claudia had attended a month of performances and the coven felt she had proven herself sincere." (Mid-December means this was likely a Christmas party the coven crashed! 😂🤣) Armand warns Louis to stop visiting Roget, and stop lying to the coven about Lestat/"Bruce."

1946

Claudia's coven initiation period; Loumand's courtship

Spring 1946:

Estelle sneezes during No Pain: "It's hay season!" This makes no effing sense for vampires to have allergies, but whatever, it was funny.

Louis keeps cruising gay parks. "There was a park I'd heard about. I would go to this park often. I was an armored thing that spring, someone steady on his feet, but… With a history of chasing the wrong kind of love." It is impossible for Louis to mean Spring of 1945, cuz that's when Hitler died, and that's before Venus de Milo arrived in Paris. This also makes no sense, if we accept that Armand met Louis in Nov. 1945, five months after their arrival.

Loumand starts courting. (LOUIS: "I walk a new part of the city every night. I try to get lost. Somehow I always end up back by the river [Seine]." ARMAND: "I started spending less time at the theater and more nights strolling the boulevards with Louis.")

Claudia is initiated in the coven; she doesn't sleep in the apartment anymore. (2x4, "What the f**k's gone on without me here?!")

Spring - Summer 1946: Baby LouLou starts performing [See Sept. '47 below.]

1946: Jean-Paul Sartre: "Evil is the product of the ability of humans to make abstract what is concrete," (2x3). A wildly popular quote, which no one ever cites. I can only assume it's an English translation of something Sartre originally said in French. All I could find that came remotely close is his Oct 1945 - Dec 1946 speech(es) L'existentialisme est un humanisme: "If values are uncertain, if they are still too abstract to determine the particular, concrete case under consideration, nothing remains but to trust in our instincts." IDFK, I'm not into all that confusing philosophical blahblah.

1946 - 1949: Loumand's sexcapades, Louis' photography. (RASHID: "The Paris Albums, 1946-1949." LOUIS: "Those were our young friends. Humans. Guys." ARMAND: "Some are very old now, most are dead. And some we simply drained for sport. Well… generally me! Louis has his ways.")

1947

Spring - Summer 1947: Louis starts art dealing.

LOUIS: I bought a Fougeron from you early in the year. I was a little short of asking, so I threw in that watch I was wearing. ALOIS: Ah, yes, yes, a good watch. Where did you hang the Fougeron? LOUIS: Over my bed all spring. Then I sold it to Germain Seligman in summer.

Fall 1947: Claudia's sick & tired of Baby LouLou

LOUIS: "By the 500th performance, Claudia was beyond bored."

ARMAND: "So explain to the company why the 500th performance of 'My Baby Loves Windows' felt more like a slog than a celebration?"

500 nights = 16 months, or 1.3 years, assuming Claudia did 1 performance every single night. In 2x4 Armand said: "Fifteen minutes a night to pretend."

CELESTE: Maitre might not have noticed as he has been nomadically attending the Theatre Des Vampires. SANTIAGO: And the infection spread what, year and a half ago? CELESTE: When a certain vampire was granted dispensation from coven membership.

September 1947: Boris Vian/Vernon Sullivan's Les morts ont tous la meme peau published. If we take Louis reading Vian's book the month it came out, in September, and 16 months of Baby LouLou performances, Claudia would've had to have started performing around June/Summer of 1946, give/take a few months, depending on when Louis got the book, and how regularly Claudia performed.

Fall 1947: Louis discusses R-26, where he's been visiting in 2x4.

ALOIS: So, you've been showing your work at the Perriers' salon? LOUIS: Always something interesting happening there. ALOIS: Maybe before the war more than now. But then I'm rarely out of my gallery.

Late 1947 - Early 1948

(There's A LOT that happens from 2x4 - 2x6 that I'm really unsure of. The ONLY diehard dates I have are for Louis' Wols painting, and Sam's Godot play. So I have to assume everything below happens within that timeframe.)

Celeste, Estelle & Santiago investigate Lestat at Roget's.

Armand lies about the Maitre coup: "In retrospect, the buffoon was in the audience, oblivious to the conspiracy uniting around him."

Madeleine almost gang-raped; Claudia reveals her vampirism

Claudia's final diary entry "Diaries are friends of last resort. I have found one not made of paper and glue. F**k these vampires."

Louis buys the Wols / Let's Go Sunning plays on the radio(?)

Louis meets Madeleine; Armand meets Madeleine

Sam's Godot play

Late 1947 - Early 1948: Santiago's Maitre coup starts; steals Claudia's diaries. Louis dumps DreamStat; Loumand's Arun/Maitre roleplay starts. (Because of the rain & lack of snow, I wonder if this is Fall 1987 / Spring 1948?)

Late 1947 - Early 1948: Sam starts writing several scripts:

Whatever play Santiago was rehearsing for, in 2x6's title "Like the light by which God made the world, before He made light." Meanwhile, the coven is passing around Claudia's diaries.

Waiting for Godot

The Trial script(?)

Late 1947 - Early 1948: Celeste, Estelle & Santiago investigate Lestat at Roget's.

Late 1947 - Early 1948: Louis buys a Wols (Alfred Otto Wolfgang Schulze), It's All Over The City (1947).

(Question: Is Jack Shaindlin's Let's Go Sunning (which plays as Santiago eavesdrops on Loumand banging) anachronistic, or does AMC know something I don't--more than likely--cuz Google keeps telling me it was first used in 1954 in the film Garden of Eden?)

Late 1947 - Early 1948: Louis meets Madeleine; Armand meets Madeleine (the same night, since they're all in the same clothes).

1948

HUGE timeskip. The ONLY definite timeframe I have is Godot.

October 9 1948 - January 29 1949: Waiting for Godot, by The Vampire Samuel Barclay / IRL Samuel Barclay Beckett.

Right after this scene, they cut to Dubai!Louis describing IRL events from 1949. So I'm cutting this post off here, to put all of that in context wrt the Trial, that also happened in 1949.

[scotianostra]

On September. 27th 1938, Queen Elizabeth, the world's largest ocean liner was launched on the Clyde.

The Queen Elizabeth was the sister ship of the Queen Mary, which was christened four years earlier, I covered this yesterday.

Unfortunately, her role as a luxury liner was short-lived - with the outbreak of the Second World War the following year, the Queen Elizabeth entered service in February 1940 as a troopship and didn’t return to her original role until October 1946.

The Cunard line’s enormous luxury ocean-goer was built on the river Clyde to sail between Southampton and New York, named after the Queen Consort (later the Queen Mother).

Following the outbreak of World War II, the security of Queen Elizabeth became a major concern for Cunard-White Star and the British Government. It was not safe to keep the ship in Scotland, as it was well known that she was a tempting target for the Luftwaffe.

Queen Elizabeth was painted in military grey before departing Clydebank for what was rumoured to be a short journey to Southampton. However, once in open sea the ship’s course was altered – Queen Elizabeth’s maiden voyage was to New York!

Thus, the untested and untried ship – then the world’s largest ocean liner – made a secret dash across the Atlantic to the safety of America. She arrived unannounced in New York, surprising officials and New Yorkers alike. Queen Elizabeth berthed alongside Queen Mary, Normandie and Mauretania Queen Elizabeth was requisitioned for wartime service on 13 November 1940.

The ship sailed to Singapore where she was refurbished into the world’s largest troop carrier. During the works, defensive armaments and a degaussing coil (to protect against mines) were fitted.

On 11th February, Queen Elizabeth sailed from Singapore bound for Sydney, Australia, arriving ten days later. Here the conversion into troop ship was completed and Queen Elizabeth undertook her first trooping voyage to the Middle East, carrying troops to Suez.

Queen Elizabeth later sailed to Canada, and carried troops to Sydney, while in 1942 the Admiralty considered possible future uses for the Queens. Their trooping capacity meant they were the most valuable large troop transports in service. When the USA entered the war in December 1941, the future use of Queen Elizabeth along with Queen Mary changed. Ultimately, the ships were most valuable operating the trooping service on the North Atlantic, and following a major overhaul Queen Elizabeth commenced this service. She remained in Government requisition for the rest of the war.

At the end of the war, Queen Elizabeth was famous on both sides of the Atlantic. The ship, which had carried over 750,000 troops, now commenced work repatriating those troops as well as the war brides.

Queen Elizabeth was released from Admiralty service in 1946. Her post-war overhaul and refurbishment was carried out both on the Clyde and at Southampton. This overhaul saw luxury passenger interiors installed aboard Queen Elizabeth, in preparation for civilan transatlantic services. Additionally, ship was painted in Cunard livery, while the machinery was overhauled.

Queen Elizabeth was given her full sea trials, and then officially accepted by Cunard. The ship made her maiden peacetime passenger voyage to New York on 16 October 1946.

Queen Elizabeth proved a popular ship and over the coming months the ship was well booked. On 17 April 1947, Queen Elizabeth ran aground near Brambles Bank as she made her approach to Southampton in thick fog. The ship was later successfully refloated.

In September 1951 Queen Elizabeth made her 100th peacetime transatlantic crossing. But as more passengers took to airline services, Cunard realised that they needed to upgrade Queen Elizabeth in order to keep her relevant in a changing world with a particular focus on longer duration cruising

As such, during a refurbishment in January 1952 the ship’s fuel capacity was increased allowing her to sail longer distances without refuelling. Additionally air-conditioning was fitted throughout, to allow the ship to undertake voyages into warm climates. Four years later, Queen Elizabeth was fitted with stabilisers, which greatly improved passenger comfort.

When Pan American World Airways flew the first Boeing 707 service across the Atlantic, the future for Queen Elizabeth was in doubt. By 1962 the decline in the number of passengers on the Atlantic shipping service (they had moved their business to airliners) led to an announcement that the ship would be used more and more for cruises.

Cunard gave Queen Elizabeth another major overhaul in Greenock, which involved an interior refurbishment and the creation of an outdoor swimming pool on Queen Elizabeth’s aft deck. This was combined with a new lido area which, it was hoped, would allow the ship to attract more cruise passengers.

Sadly, the 1966 Seaman’s Strike meant that the refreshed ship was laid up in Southampton for a number of weeks, which further impacted on Cunard’s financial viability. On 8 May 1967, Cunard announced the fates of the two Queens. Queen Mary was withdrawn from service later that year, while the Queen Elizabeth was to be retained until Autumn 1968, by which time it was hoped the QE2 would be ready as her replacement.

Queen Elizabeth was initially sold to a group of Philadelphian businessmen, who intended to turn her into a floating hotel in Florida. The ship made her final transatlantic crossing on 5 November 1968 before she was withdrawn from Cunard service.

Once in Florida, the ship was opened to the public, however this venture didn’t last and the ship was closed in late 1969. In 1970 the ship was auctioned and bought by C.Y.Tung, Hong Kong, who planned to convert the liner into the world’s largest Floating University.

Re-named Seawise University, the ship sailed for Hong Kong to be converted. The transformation was almost complete when a series of fires broke out aboard the ship, causing her to burn out and sink in the harbour, a sad end to a beautiful ship.

You can find more pics and info on the link below, including an 8 minute video. Among the pics you will see that although Queen Elizabeth was a luxury liner, it was not this way when it was in service during WW2, troops were crammed into every available space.

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

Better Off - Bernard DeMarco x OFC - Chapter 4

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |-| Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

AO3

Summary: Years before Susie's arrival at Thorpe Abbotts, one fateful loss changes the course of her life forever

Warnings: Grief, death, language, ANGST, dysfunctional family idk

Word Count: 2.9k

Tags: @xxluckystrike @latibvles @footprintsinthesxnd @mads-weasley @joyfulbookreviewmarvelspy

January, 1941

The church was quiet, rows of pews worn and bare. Sunlight flooded in through the tall, narrow windows, casting blocks of light against whitewashed walls, and the low, gentle chatter of guests in the doorway did nothing to rouse Susie from her daze, huddled at the furthest end of the front row of pews, tucked into the corner as if it would make her invisible. An old bible rested on the bench beside her, tattered and yellowed, and she ran her thumb across the blunted corners of the paper, never venturing far enough to open it, the words repulsive to her.

Her mother's voice always plucked itself from a crowd, that warm, Irish lilt in stark contrast against the rough, Mancunian drawl possessed by her children, as if they belonged to the city before they did her. She didn't bother listening in to the others' conversations - didn't try to distinguish the voices of strangers from those of her blood. None of them could have had anything even remotely interesting to say to her.

The pew creaked beside her, and Susie glanced up as Beatrice took her seat, leaving a few metres of separation between the pair of them. Three years her elder, her sister dressed head-to-toe in black, gloved hands clutching at her purse, hair curling neatly below her ears, immaculately done makeup obscured by the veil that hung in front of her face. Susie looked down at her own clothes - a white button down, an old brown skirt - it wasn't right, wasn't traditional or proper, but it was what she had.

"No husband?" She asked, a hint of an edge lacing her voice. Beatrice sucked in a long breath, chest heaving with the weight of it.

"No. He's busy."

"I bet he is."

Finally turning to look at her, venom in her gaze, Beatrice opened her mouth to speak, Susie already itching to interrupt her. But both fell silent, jaws snapping shut as another figure sat down in between them, a human barrier to prevent the inevitable spat before it could form.

"Always classy, girls," Sally huffed, newborn cradled in one arm, the other elbow propped up against the back of the pew as she kept an eye on her other son.

Beatrice sighed, posture relaxing as she let go of the offensive. No one questioned Sally - the eldest sister who had lifted them in her arms the way she now did her own children, who had wiped their tears and cleaned their scraped knees when their parents had been preoccupied. So much older and wiser than the rest of them, there was a removal there, as if she could no longer quite be considered their sister, their equal.

Susie shifted in her seat, wincing slightly as a dull ache shot through her thigh. She could feel Sally's gaze fixed on her. "Susie," She spoke gently, the infant in her arms gurgling away to itself. "How long have you been sitting here?"

"Four hours."

"Jesus Christ," Beatrice muttered, staring up at the altar, unable to tear her eye from the framed photo of Ellie that beamed back at them. They'd chosen a photo of her as a child - why had they done that? That wasn't the Ellie she'd pulled from the rubble the morning after the bombs had fallen. That wasn't the Ellie shut away inside the casket. She didn't remember her that way. Anyone who did wasn't welcome here in Susie's eyes.

A clatter of books against the stone floor sounded behind them as Sally's other son knocked over a pile of Bibles, guilt flushing his cheeks a bright red as the crowd gathered by the door turned to stare. With a quick summons from his mother, he scrambled to his seat, little feet dangling over the edge of the pew, hands fidgeting restlessly. She heaved a long, heavy sigh, unable to look at the altar for more than a few seconds at a time. "At least she's with dad now."

Susie hummed. She didn’t have the heart to tell her she didn’t believe in God anymore.

They were separated irreparably now. Even today, not everyone was here. Ronnie and Patrick were still away fighting overseas, and Nancy had been noisily sobbing in the back corner since she arrived, her son sitting awkwardly in the opposite pew waiting for it all to be over. The sound of footsteps along the aisle drew Susie's gaze, and something lifted within her.

"Owen," She breathed, jumping to her feet and bounding over to meet her big brother. His eyes were bloodshot, gaze jittery and unable to meet hers - but then again, he never had liked to look her in the eye. She didn't mind it. Her hand found his arm, pressing reassuringly against the sleeve of his uniform, adorned with the emblem of the RAF Medical Services. "Come sit down, yeah?"

"Is-... Is she in the box?" He asked quietly, nervously glancing at the pallbearers.

Susie frowned, brow drawn. "No," She lied. "No, Ellie's not in there. It's just tradition - what Ma wanted."

"Ok. Yeah, ok, I'll sit," Owen nodded, and she noticed the fresh tears soaking the cuff of his sleeve from where he'd wiped them away on his way in. She offered him the seat that had once been hers, letting him press his body into the wood at the end of the bench, shying away from the crowds, shoulder hunched to avoid brushing against hers. Owen had never quite been considered normal - Ronnie used to get into trouble for beating other boys up at school in defence of his little brother - but it had only meant he never minded that Susie wasn't quite normal either. There was a solidarity in that, a shared acceptance that they weren't how the world tried to shape them.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Everyone cried during the ceremony. Everyone except Susie.

A nauseating guilt swelled within her as her brother and sisters quietly wept at her sides, and she squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she possibly could, willing a tear to fall, manifesting some sign of the grief within. What must they have thought of her? Her cold stare overseeing it all, flinching at every prayer. It was the perfect protestant funeral, the kind only their mother could have mustered.

She couldn't have left fast enough once it was all over, Owen's gentle grip on her cardigan using her as a guide through the crowds as they wormed their way through towards the door. Their house was a mere five doors down from the church, a looming presence throughout their childhood, a lingering reminder that someone was watching. But even in her home, she wasn't spared the misery.

Susie scarcely recognised half the people at Ellie's wake - crowding the kitchen, sitting in their chairs and lingering in the stairwell. What did any of them know - truly know - about her sister? Had they even had time to know her? Nineteen was too young to die. Too young for death to have any meaning. If the bombs had to kill someone, they should've killed Susie. At least then there'd have been some semblance of military strategy to it. No one won wars by slaughtering teenagers.

There was an empty cup in her hand as she sat at the kitchen table. She couldn't remember what had been in it. Upon the stove, the kettle was boiling, splitting the din of chatter with its unrelenting squeal. She squeezed the glass so tight she worried it might shatter, knuckles turning white with the pressure. Her mother passed behind her, absent-mindedly stroking her hair, warm palm skimming against her scalp. She wanted it to stay, wanted to lean back into it, but it was gone as soon as it came. Susie pushed her chair out, the legs screeching across the floor, bumping into a man she'd never met as she stood up, shouldering her way to the door.

It was almost silent in the attic, layers of brick and wood muffling the sound of voices. Laying back on her bed, she stared up at the roofing beams, the lingering smell of Ellie's perfume permeating the bedsheets. From the day she'd been old enough to leave the crib they'd shared this bed, shunting Patrick onto the narrow one in the corner - this was the girls' space, the floral quilts a private temple where only they existed. Lying on her side of it now, it felt uneven, like the whole thing would lose balance and tip over sideways, Ellie's presence necessary to its survival. Or maybe she was just necessary for Susie's.

Dust floated on the air, catching the light that flowed in through a leak in the ceiling. Her hand rested on the other side of the bed, the vague imprint of Ellie's body still engraved into the old mattress. It needed replacing years ago, but suddenly it was invaluable. On Christmas Eve night, the night after she'd died, Susie had stayed up all through the dark, lying in the impression of her sister, terrified it would lose her outline if she just left it there. But it never did.

The house had never been so full and so empty. Her brothers were aiding the war effort, billeted all over the place. Her sisters had all gotten married - found their own homes to raise their own children. She and Ellie had stayed up here in their attic, tucked beneath the covers like little girls again.

A creak on the stairs ripped her from her trance, her mother's head peering up through the trap door.

"I didn't know you were up here."

"That's ok."

Each floorboard let out an agonised creak as she crossed them, hands folded nervously at her front. Freshly forty years old, she looked at least a decade older, heavy bags of exhaustion tugging down on her eyelids. She wore the only black dress she owned, spotted with white polka dots, a stubborn coffee stain browning the hem where she could never quite scrub it away. The bed rocked towards Ellie's side as she climbed beneath the sheets, laying down in the space she had once owned.

All at once she seemed a child, tugging the blankets up to her chin, eyes squeezed shut as if willing sleep to claim her. She turned into Susie's side, pulling in a long breath. She wondered if she could smell Ellie here too.

"Can I sleep here tonight?" She asked meekly, like a girl begging her parents after a nightmare.

Susie's head lolled to the side, brow furrowed as she looked over at her. "Yeah, sure Ma. I'll go downstairs."

"Please don't."

It was silent for a while. Then the rustling of sheets sounded as Susie turned onto her side facing away from her mother, unable to bear staring at her for too long. She scarcely knew the woman lying next to her. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd climbed the steps to read them to sleep up here. Long gone were the days when Susie wished she would, but her absence could still be read in the room - in the drawings on the walls that no one had ever been scolded for, that no one had ever tried covering up because no one ever came to see them. This was their own little world, and she wasn't sure she wanted her mother up here at all.

"I'm sorry if I was a bad Ma," She spoke, voice muffled slightly by the pillow.

Susie took a deep breath, shoulders rising and falling with it. "You tried."

If nothing else, she knew that was true. Her mother had tried. She'd made half a dozen breakfasts with a baby on one hip. She'd read every report card and double-checked their homework when she managed to understand it. She'd stifled the pain of becoming a widow to tend to the pain of a bumped head or bruised elbow.

But she'd also let them go to bed hungry. She'd lied to their schools about their birthdays so they could drop out before their time. She'd been too poor and had too many children, and Susie wasn't sure she'd ever forgive her for it.

She needed to leave this house. The prospect of sleeping alone in this bed was worse than any other fate she could imagine. Already she could feel herself sticking - if she didn't tear herself away now she never would. Could she truly face driving past the wreckage of the factories every day on her way to Ridgeway? It would take months to rebuild. Months of remembering the moment she'd see her face, blood streaking through the brick dust, eyes half open and unseeing.

"Get some sleep. I'll bring you up some tea when everyone's left," Susie muttered, peeling the sheets away from her body and climbing out of bed, rubbing her eyes with the balls of her palms.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Beatrice stood on the doorstep, a cloud of cigarette smoke wafting in front of her face as she watched a child play in the gutter outside the wash house across the yard. The four walls that encircled their court of back-to-backs had once been their entire world. She remembered it looking bigger than this. There were rumours they'd be knocking houses like these down soon - no one wanted to move into them, these dilapidated remnants of a time long passed.

The sound of feet scuffing against tile alerted her to Susie's presence, sliding into the doorway beside her, wordlessly extending her hand for a cigarette. Beatrice passed one to her, holding out a lighter, the pair exhaling puffs of smoke simultaneously.

Who were they to each other? Susie stared back at her sister and realised she didn't have any idea.

"Ellie always used to ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up," She mused, watching on as the child across the yard was hurried inside by its mother, casting them a sympathetic glance as she went.

"She asked everyone that."

"Yeah. But she asked me the most, 'cause I never had an answer."

"Do you have one now?"

"... Don't think so."

The war made dreams insignificant. Nothing was about how they wanted to live anymore, everything was about what others needed them to be.

Beatrice had long discarded her hat, its presence remembered in the halo of frizz it left behind around her scalp. "What did she want to be again?"

"It was a ballerina for a while, then a painter I think. Or a writer. Might've been both."

"Don't forget when she wanted to be a scientist."

"Of course. And a pilot."

They'd begun to smile. When it had happened, she couldn't recall. But Ellie's mind had always been so far away, so filled to burst with a million dreams and ideas and fantasies that no one had any clue what she would go on to do. In the end, she did nothing. She had wished to change the world, and she had died on the floor of a textile mill.

A man in uniform came down the alleyway into the yard, hands folded politely behind his back as he approached the house. His gaze was fixed on Beatrice, as if Susie wasn't there at all.

"Car for you, ma'am."

"Thanks," She nodded, stomping her cigarette butt out on the front step. Taking a few steps away from the house, she turned, letting out a sigh as she fumbled with her purse. "Let Mum know I've gone, yeah? And Nancy."

"You're not staying for dinner?"

For a moment a look of shock flashed across her sister's face, as if appalled she'd even ask. "No. I need to be back in London by the time William gets home."

"Why? Not like you cook or anything."

Beatrice stared at her for a moment, grip on her bag tightening. "Mind your business, Susie."

Susie flicked her cigarette into the puddle at her sister's feet, the door closing on her with a slam. As she came inside, Nancy reached the bottom of the stairs, glancing out of the window behind her.

"Beatrice left?"

"Fucking bitch," She muttered, dragging one of the chairs away from the table to sit down.

"Don't say that."

"Fine. I love it when she comes up here in her fancy car to grace us with her condescending presence and remind us all that she doesn't have to be poor anymore."

Nancy gnawed at the inside of her cheek, wordlessly refilling the kettle and placing it on the stovetop. Her eyes were still red, and Susie suspected she'd gone upstairs to cry again. She'd always been the sensitive one of the bunch.

"I'm moving out," She said, the words seeming to echo back to her in the tiny kitchen.

"... Alright." Nancy nodded, something tight in her tone, as if she'd spoken through clenched teeth. "... Where will you go?"

"I was looking at Norfolk. There's some positions open down there, I could actually get promoted."

"That's a long way."

"... Yeah, Nance."

That's the fucking point.

[praxcrown5]

Carstober prompt #2 and 3: Ghost Driver and Spare Parts

Halloween Eve, 1941

“…and the only thing left after the monster attack was a crumpled license plate covered in fresh crankcrase oil!”  A red Cadillac Series 62–one James Glenrunner–leapt towards the small crowd of vehicles that were parked around him in a loose half-circle, laughing maniacally.

It was Halloween and the Glenrunner family was enjoying dinner and homespun Halloween-themed stories in the garage…as it was the only place large enough to accommodate everyone all at once. 

Normally, they’d be handing out metallic treats to the younger townsfolk, but it was a cold, rainy night with intermittent thunder and sleet.  No one with any lick of common sense was cruising the roads.

Annette Longhauler, a sleek black and chrome Cadillac Series 62 Sedannette, was parked alongside her husband, Samuel, a red, International Harvester Company semi.  Sam had the distinction of the being both the largest truck in the Longhauler family and one of the strongest trucks east of the Mississippi.  Normally, he’d be on the road through December, but a downturn in the economy had forced him to renegotiate his Time and Material Contract with the Federal Government, and he was garaged until further notice…. which was fine in his book, as it meant that he could spend some quality time with his family.  

He smiled down at a small, navy-blue car who was nestled between him and his wife: Their soon-to-be-three year old son, Hudson.  

“Ack!  Small bites, there, Hud… ” Annette snagged the end of her son’s teething toy—an old truck bumper--and tried to pull it away from him, but the child bit down as hard as he could and stubbornly refused to let go.  Annette pushed herself upright for more leverage, bringing all four of Hud’s tires off of the ground.  The kid growled and shook his body from side to side, like a gator with a fresh kill.  

“Eh, let him have it,” Chuckled a blue Oldsmobile model 50E.  “He can’t swallow the whole thing anyhow…”

Annette’s blue eyes flicked across her hood to focus on her father.  “But Pa…he could bite off something that’s too big for his crop.”

Otis Glenrunner, patriarch of the Glenrunner family, smiled and waved his front left tire, dismissively.  “His teeth ain’t strong enough for that yet…”

“If ya say so…” She set her son down, and returned to a resting position.  Hud followed closely, and once she was situated, he nestled back up against her front fender and continued gnawing on the bumper, looking very much proud of himself.

“Are y’all even listening…?” James pouted.

“We heard ‘ya,” Otis answered, looking annoyed.

“And…what did you think?”

“Urm…” Otis stammered. 

“It was…definitely a story,” Annette added, trying to sound upbeat.  

“But…I thought it was supposed to be a scary story…” Hud chimed in, distracted.

Otis laughed loudly before he could stop himself; even Sam chuckled. 

“Hud, that wasn’t very nice,” Annette corrected, gently.  

“But…I wasn’t scared.” The infant insisted, setting down the bumper and giving his mother a pleading look.  “And you always tell me to be honest…”

Otis continued laughing; he couldn’t help himself. 

James pursed his lips.  “My story was plenty scary…just ask your uncle.” He gestured towards the ramp leading down into the basement.  James’ twin brother, Carl, was staring back at him with wide, terrified eyes; his teal body was shaking loudly.

“Uncle Carl is a-scared of everythin’…” Hud snorted.

Now it was Annette’s turn to laugh.  “You aren’t wrong…”

“Hey!”

Annette smirked at her brother and stuck her tongue out at him.

There was a long pause, as everyone in the group looked around at everyone else.  “So…who’s gonna be the narrator this time?” Otis wondered.

“Whoever tells it better make sure it's scary!” Hud, glared at James and tamped his little tire for emphasis.  Suitably chastised, James pulled up along side his father, and took a long swig from the communal moonshine jug.

There was another pause, then Sam said in low voice.  “Urm…I have a story.”  

All eyes turned to him.  

“Really, Pa?  You have a scary story?”  Hud pushed himself upright and turned so that he could smile up at his father.  Sam was a truck of few words, and for him to offer…well, it definitely got everyone's attention.  “Is it really, really scary?”

The semi nodded.  “Very much so.”  He cast a sly look over his hood at James.  “Because unlike James’ story…mine actually happened.”

Everyone just stared at him.  Annette, especially, looked surprised.  

“Yay! A scary story!”  Hud zipped up to him and did a cute little spin, his expression rapturous.  

Sam raised a tire. “Settle down, now,” He rumbled with a smile, and Hud quickly scooted near his front bumper, barely able to contain his excitement.  

“My most common run is Atlanta to Jacksonville.  It’s an easy drive, even with a full load of lumber, and if you do it at night, there’s less traffic to contend with…except for the Ghost Drivers.”

Hud’s eyes were wide.  “Oo!”

“’Ghost Drivers’?” Annette wondered, leaning closer.

Sam nodded.  “I noticed the first one on my junior run on the 78, well east of Athens.  It was a lady car, with sky-blue paint, just…driving slowly on the shoulder without a care in the world.  Now that stretch was miles and miles away from anything in either direction, and I was likely the first vehicle that she’d seen since dusk.  Be that as it may, she didn’t acknowledge me as I drove past.  Instead, she just kept straddling the white line with a sort of vacant smile. I figured that she might be camping somewhere in the area, and didn’t think anything of it…but she was only the first.”

It’s not every trip you spot them. But sometimes you see a few on a single go, but I don’t ever recall seein’ them during the day; it’s only ever at night, and only when you’re driving far from civilization in the dark. The other trucks call them ‘Ghost Drivers’ or ‘Moon Wanderers,’ but I prefer the term “Fog Liners,” since that’s always where you always find them: on the fog line, following it the way a train follows its track.  All makes and models just…driving with nothing but the line and the pale light of the moon to guide them.  After a time, you don’t really pay them no mind…”

Annette stared at her husband with a look of surprise bordering on shock.  Despite doing their best to work through their communication issues, Sam had never mentioned any of this before.  

“One night, a few months ago, I passed by an old Buick model 10.  She was so rusted that there weren’t a splash of paint left on her, and the metal on her undercarriage would crumble and flake off anytime she hit a dip in the road.”  His gaze became distant then, like he was getting lost in the memory.  “And…I remember her eyes looking strange.  They were dull and…colorless, like they belonged to someone who was just about to pass on into the next life, but she was smiling the most serene smile you’d ever seen.  And then I noticed that her tires were all low on air.  Not flat, but very low.  So low that she probably wouldn’t make it to the next town…which was some fifty miles distant.  And they made a very distinctive sound: a slow, rhythmic ‘fwump, fwump, fwump…’”

He paused, seemingly for effect, but then he frowned and looked away.  “I…wanted to keep on driving, the scene unsettled me so much…but if she really was in trouble, I just couldn’t leave her out there for the scavengers.  So… I pulled onto the shoulder some distance ahead of her…and…I could hear the ‘fwump, fwump, fwump…’ of her tires as she drew near…”  

Hud scooted closer to Annette; eyes wide.  

Even James and Otis shuddered and drew nearer to one another.  Carl was no where to be seen.  No sooner than Sam said “ghost,” he’d disappeared into the basement, well out of hearing range.  

“‘Ma’am, are you ok?’ I called out, once I could see her in my rear views.  She looked so much more...disheveled up close, and I remember feeling very scared…but I was also worried for her, and that gave me the courage to call out to her a second time. ‘Ma’am? Your tires are low and you’re in the middle of nowhere...’ 

“She Just kept smiling and driving forward.

“My fuel pump was goin’ a mile a minute.  ‘She must be having some sort of medical episode, and needed help,’ I thought to myself.  I dropped my trailer and turned around, but then my brakes locked up. And, no matter how much I tried to move, I couldn’t; I was frozen in place.  And all I could do was watch as she got closer…and closer…”

Hud reversed until he was right up against Annette’s front left tire.

“Seeing as I was blocking the shoulder, she was forced to stop…and that’s when she looked at me.  Looked right through me with those colorless eyes.  She opened her mouth in a silent gape…and she grinned, her teeth pale and broken.  Then she darted forward, faster than a diving night hawk, and grabbed my tire…but not with her mouth.  It was some sort of mechanical arm that she had stowed in a panel on her right, front fender.  Before I knew what was happening, she was dragging me down the road, unfettted by my weight.  And the more I struggled, the more she just…smiled.  After what seemed like an eternity, my brakes unlocked and I spun with all the fight I had in me.  It was like hitting a concrete bridge pylon.”  He paused and drew in a ragged breath.  “She disappeared into the ditch…and I just stared at the spot where she’d gone over, unable to move, unbreathing for what seemed an eternity…”  His voice trailed off.  

“What happened to her?” Hud asked, fearfully.

“She climbed out of the ditch on her own power, and other than the rust that she’d had on her from the start, she was fine.  No dents.  No broken windows.  Nothing.  With how hard I hit her…I should have folded her in half…but there she was moving around like nothing was amiss.  And she met my gaze, then: She was still smiling, but she seemed…disappointed, and she maneuvered around me, though her eyes still bored onto mine.  ‘Fwump, fwump, fwump…’ the sound of her tires faded as she disappeared into the night.  I idled there, stunned, for a long time.  Eventually, I worked up the nerve to pick up my trailer, and continue on.  I caught up to her, in short order, and she was following the shoulder same as before.  But as I passed her, her eyes followed me.  And the last thing I saw of her as I drove away was her wide, happy, broken smile.”

The silence that claimed the room was profound.  

“I stopped at the next town, even though I had planned on driving through the night.  My whole front right fender was caved in from where I’d struck her.  And while I was getting fixed up, I started talking to the folks there.  Apparently, I was the first person to even attempt to speak to a Ghost Driver,” he shivered, suddenly, even though the garage wasn’t cold.  “Since then, I’ve seen plenty more, driving slowly on the shoulder, followin’ the fog line in the dark... I even saw a kid once.”  He looked out at the group of vehicles.  “But you know what’s strange…?”

“You mean aside from creepy, withered cars dragging a SEMI down the road?”  James chuckled, looking nervous.

Sam just smiled.  “The real strange thing is that every last one of ‘em notices me, now.  They watch me through their rear views as I come up behind them, lock eyes with me when I’m near, and then keep watching me until I’m well out of range of their headlights.”  

Hud squealed, and for a moment Annette was concerned that the story had been TOO scary.  But, she shouldn’t have worried.  Hud was fearless, and instead of cowering or crying, he began to circle the garage, excitedly, babbling about wanting to meet the rickety, old Ghost Driver who could toss his father around like a toy. 

The truck grinned, and intercepted the child on one of his laps.  “Was that scary enough for you, Hud?”

“It was even better than the ghost story Bobby’s Pa told us last year!”  His little tires tapped with glee.  “This is amazing!  I can’t wait to tell Bobby; he’s gonna be so jealous.”  He made a playful donut that brought him around to his father’s fender, the same fender that had been damaged in the story.  The metal had been repaired and repainted, but it didn’t stop Hud from reaching up to prod it gently with his tire.

“Yeah…” James said, haughtily, puffing himself up.  “That didn’t really happen.”

Sam locked eyes with the Cadillac.  He didn’t argue or get angry; he just stared.  And as the minutes stretched, longer, and longer, James’ eyes widened, and he slunk back looking horrified.  “By the Manufacturer….you’re serious?”

Sam’s expression changed, tottering somewhere between bemused, hesitant and tense.  As if he were glad for the company, but discomfited by having to recall the events of that night.  His gaze shifted as he noticed Otis watching him with a look he couldn't place.

After a moment, everyone, even Hud, noticed the silent conversation, held with their eyes.  Otis was an older car, and well-travelled.  Not to the same extent as his son-in-law, but you don't run moonshine through the Georgia high country and not see your fair share of…oddities.

“You’re lucky to have gotten away with just a dented fender,” Otis said at last.

Sam simply shrugged, and took a long drink from the moonshine jug. “That's what they say…” 

Annette goggled. Hud tamped his tires excitedly.  James looked like he was going to be sick.  And Carl, despite doing his darndest to stay out of pane-shot, heard the confirmation and fainted loudly.

Character refs/ref photos

Annette

Otis

Sam

James and Carl

Baby Doc

[simshousewindsor]

The Royal House of Windsor: A Royal Look Back

Her Majesty Zarah, Queen Dowager

Queen consort to His Majesty King Edward I Mother to His Majesty King George I

Zarah is mother to George I and Prince Louis, Duke of Kent and was consort to Edward II of Windenburg from 1941 - 1992. Zara is also a descendent of Albert I.

The feisty Queen Dowager comes from a long line of royals and is the gold standard for Royal etiquette and protocol. A Sulani princess by birth, and a Windenburg princess by marriage, Zarah was the fifth child of Zelio, Emperor of Sulani. Zelio was a grandson of Albert I and Queen Isabella, through their youngest son (Edward).

Official Engagement Portrait (1939)

King Edward I met 11 year old Princess Zarah while on a State visit with her father, Zelio, Emperor of Sulani. Upon returning to Windenburg, Edward I accepted the Emperor's proposal that Prince Edward Charles, who was also 11, and Princess Zarah be betrothed. The proposal was part of a larger land agreement between the two nations; sealing their bond.

From the age of 12, Zarah was prepared to be queen. Her education, peers, and life completely changed. When the pair turned 16 they began writing each other; with two "known" visits. On her 21st birthday, Princess Zarah travelled to Windenburg, the pair wed shortly after, and were created the Duke and Duchess of York.

Official Coronation Portrait (1941)

Edward I, unexpectedly passed away two years later, on 18 May 1941, and the Duke ascended the throne as Edward II.

Edward II’s reign saw the rise of socialsimism, commusimism, and the Sulani independence movement, all of which radically changed the political landscape of the Windenburg Empire, which itself reached its territorial peak by the beginning of the 1960s.

Pictured Above: The (then) Queen consort with her two children George and Louis at Buckingsim Palace (1977)

Finding it difficult to conceive, the government put immense pressure on the new King and Queen to produce an heir. His parents, Edward I and Queen Lara-Leigh, were also pressed by government to conceive, and it took them 11 years to conceive Edward II.

After 14.5 years, and multiple miscarriages, prayers were answered on 14 December 1962 with the birth of a son, Prince George Albert Edward (later King George I). The royal couple had another son, Prince Louis, four years later securing the throne.

Official State Portrait (1958)

As Queen consort, Zarah was far too busy to give Prince George and Prince Louis the time and attention she wanted, with the boys spending much of their youth at Cheaves school for boys. The 60s and 70s saw the Queen consort aiding the King on a multitude of royal tours. Her most intriguing international visit was to Simdia in 1971.

Simdia had been part of the Windenburg Empire within the Queen consort’s lifetime, with King Edward I and Queen Lara-Leigh having been the last Emperor and Empress of Simdia until the Windenburg Raj was dissolved in 1939. It marked a new chapter in relations between the two countries when the Queen consort and Edward II made a State visit – the first trip by a reigning Windenburg Monarch since the country gained its independence. The previous visit had taken place some 50 years before, in 1912, when King Edward I and Queen Lara-Leigh of Niregia were proclaimed Emperor and Empress of Simdia at the Delshi Simbar.

Pictured Above: The Queen Dowager (then Queen Mother) with her four grandchildren Lara, Anna, Leo, and Katherine at Beaverdam (2009)

Queen Zarah prided herself in knowledge and, as a grandmother, had a strong hand in Princess Katherine (later Queen Katherine I), Princess Lara, Princess Anna, and Prince Leo’s tutelage.

Her Majesty ensured each of her grandchildren were well-loved, well-read, well-mannered, well-spoken, and well-traveled. Her Majesty also ensured they were grounded with compassion for the sims less fortunate than them.

Official State Portrait (2019)

In her last Official State Portrait, Queen Zarah was photographed wearing full insignia, including the Royal Family Order of King Edward II and the Royal Family Order of King George I (she received her badge from her son two days before his Coronation).

Although not wearing it in the picture, Queen Zarah also received the Royal Order of King Edward I (July 1938). She was the only Windenburg royal to be the holder, during her lifetime, of four Royal Family Orders (including that of her granddaughter, Queen Katherine I).

Windenburg Royal Family (2021)

After the death of her husband, she became Queen Mother and split residences between Buckingsim Palace and Kently Estate, with both of her sons. After the death of her son (George I), she became Queen Dowager and, after her health declined, maintained permanent residence at the palace with her granddaughter, Katherine I.

The Queen Dowager retired from public life in 2019 but was still very beloved by the sims world and held great influence within the realm. Her Majesty died peacefully in her sleep at Buckingsim Palace on 13 Nov 2024, and until her death was not only the matriarch of the House of Windsor but one of the most influential sims of Windenburg.

A Royal Look Back Collection

[deadpresidents]

How many presidents have had both of their parents alive when they were president?

Three Presidents have had both parents alive when they became President:

•Ulysses S. Grant Grant was the first President with both of his parents alive at the time of his inauguration. His father, Jesse Root Grant, died on June 29, 1873 during Grant’s second term. His mother, Hannah Simpson Grant, survived both of his terms and died two years before he did, on May 11, 1883. •John F. Kennedy Not only were both of JFK’s Presidents alive when he became President, but they are the only parents of a President who both outlived him. JFK was assassinated in 1963. His father, Joseph P. Kennedy Sr., died in 1969, and his mother, Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy died in 1995 at the age of 104. •George W. Bush Both of Bush’s parents were alive when he took office and survived his entire two-term Presidency. His father, former President George H.W. Bush, died on November 30, 2018, just six months after the death of his mother, Barbara Bush, in April 2018.

Several Presidents have had either their father or mother still alive when they became President:

FATHER •John Quincy Adams: The first son of a President to be elected President himself was also the first President whose father was still alive at the time of his inauguration. John Adams died July 4, 1826, a little over a year into JQA’s Presidency. •Millard Fillmore: Nathaniel Fillmore lived through his son’s entire Presidency (1850-1853) and died in his 90s during the Civil War, on March 28, 1863. •Warren G. Harding: Harding’s father, George Tryon Harding, lived through his son’s entire Administration and died on November 19, 1928. Harding, who died in office on August 2, 1923, was the first President who was outlived by his father. •Calvin Coolidge: Not only did Coolidge’s father, John Calvin Coolidge, live to see his son become President, but he actually administered the oath of office. Coolidge, the Vice President at the time, was visiting his father when President Harding died in office and the elder Coolidge, a notary public, administered the Presidential oath at the family home in Vermont. Coolidge’s father died on March 18, 1926 during President Coolidge’s second term.

MOTHER •George Washington: Mary Ball Washington died August 25, 1789, a little less than four months after his first inauguration. •John Adams: Susanna Boylston Adams died  April 21, 1797, just under two months after Adams became President. •James Madison: Eleanor Conway Madison lived through both of her son’s terms as President (1809-1817) and died February 11, 1829 at the age of 98. •James K. Polk: Polk was the first President who didn’t outlive his mother. She died on January 11, 1852, almost three years after Polk left office and died. •James Garfield: Garfield’s mother, Eliza Ballou Garfield, lived to see him become President and die in office. She died on January 21, 1888, almost seven years after he was assassinated. •William McKinley: McKinley’s mother, Nancy Allison McKinley, lived to attend her son’s first inauguration, but died several months later, December 12, 1897. •Franklin D. Roosevelt: FDR’s mother, Sara Delano Roosevelt, lived to see her son inaugurated three times. She died during her son’s third term, on September 7, 1941. •Harry S. Truman: Truman’s mother, Martha Young Truman, lived to see her son succeed to the Presidency in April 1945. She died during his first term, on July 26, 1947, at the age of 94. •Jimmy Carter: Lillian Carter lived through her son’s entire Presidency and was even sent to represent him at events overseas several times, which made her a celebrity in her own right during his Presidency. She died on April 30, 1983, two years after Carter left the White House. •George H.W. Bush: Bush’s mother, Dorothy Walker Bush, lived to see her son become President. She died on November 19, 1992, two weeks after her son lost his bid for re-election. •Bill Clinton: Virginia Cassidy Kelley, Clinton’s mother, lived to see him become President but died less than a year later, on January 6, 1994.

[kingoftheclaudes]

Claude Rains Character Masterlist!

Here's a handy-dandy guide of all the wonderful characters Claude Rains has portrayed over a nearly seven decade long career. We encourage all to have a gander at all these invisible men, prefects of police, fathers, criminal masterminds, otherworldly beings, and men of history alike! Each link will take you to a picture of that specific character, so even if you're not familiar with them, you can send in propaganda anyhow (such as 'what a lovely wig!', 'astonishing facial hair!', or even 'such a beautiful hat!'). We also realize that two of these characters share a name - John Stevenson (from The Last Outpost and Strange Holiday, respectively), so when submitting propaganda for these characters, please indicate which one! We will try our best to sort through the submissions regardless!

List is in chronological order, however, we are omitting for reasons explained in the pinned post the characters of Clarkis from Build Thy House and The Mayor from The Pied Piper of Hamelin!

(1933) The Invisible Man - Dr. Jack Griffin/The Invisible Man

(1934) Crime Without Passion - Lee Gentry

(1934) The Man Who Reclaimed His Head - Paul Verin

(1935) The Mystery of Edwin Drood - John Jasper

(1935) The Clairvoyant/The Evil Mind - Maximus

(1935) The Last Outpost - John Stevenson

(1936) Hearts Divided - Napoleon Bonaparte

(1936) Anthony Adverse - Marquis Don Luis

(1937) Stolen Holiday - Stefan Orloff

(1937) The Prince and the Pauper - Earl of Hertford/Edward Seymour

(1937) They Won't Forget - D.A. Andrew 'Andy' J. Griffin

(1938) White Banners - Paul Ward

(1938) Gold Is Where You Find It - Colonel Christopher 'Chris' Ferris

(1938) The Adventures of Robin Hood - Prince John

(1938) Four Daughters - Adam Lemp

(1939) They Made Me a Criminal - Detective Monty Phelan

(1939) Juarez - Emperor Louis Napoleon III

(1939) Sons of Liberty - Haym Salomon

(1939) Daughters Courageous - Jim Masters

(1939) Mr. Smith Goes to Washington - Senator Joseph Harrison Paine

(1939) Four Wives - Adam Lemp

(1940) Saturday's Children - Henry Halevy

(1940) The Sea Hawk - Don José Álvarez de Córdoba

(1940) Lady with Red Hair - David Belasco

(1941) Four Mothers - Adam Lemp

(1941) Here Comes Mr. Jordan - Mr. Jordan

(1941) The Wolf Man - Sir John Talbot

(1942) Kings Row - Dr. Alexander Tower

(1942) Moontide - Nutsy

(1942) Now, Voyager - Dr. Jaquith

(1942) Casablanca - Captain Louis Renault

(1943) Forever and a Day - Ambrose Pomfret

(1943) Phantom of the Opera - Erique Claudin/The Phantom

(1944) Passage to Marseille - Captain Freycinet

(1944) Mr. Skeffington - Job Skeffington

(1945) Strange Holiday - John Stevenson

(1945) This Love of Ours - Joseph Targel

(1945) Caesar and Cleopatra - Julius Caesar

(1946) Notorious - Alexander Sebastian

(1946) Angel on My Shoulder - Nick

(1946) Deception - Alexander Hollenius

(1947) The Unsuspected - Victor Grandison

(1949) The Passionate Friends - Howard Justin

(1949) Rope of Sand - Arthur 'Fred' Martingale

(1949) Song of Surrender - Elisha Hunt

(1950) The White Tower - Paul DeLambre

(1950) Where Danger Lives - Frederick Lannington

(1951) Sealed Cargo - Captain Skalder

(1952) The Man Who Watched the Trains Go By/The Paris Express - Kees Poppinga

(1956) Lisbon - Aristides Mavros

(1959) This Earth is Mine - Phillipe Rambeau

(1960) The Lost World - Professor George Edward Challenger

(1961) Battle of the Worlds - Professor Benson

(1962) Lawrence of Arabia - Mr. Dryden

(1963) Twilight of Honor - Art Harper

(1965) The Greatest Story Ever Told - Herod the Great

[can-of-pringles]

My character names and short bios for my Ghost AU lore

(warnings for RHRN spoilers, though I'll probably be updating it when we get more info) (I'm including picrews of some of the OCs, though not the ones already established since it's very easy to find pictures of them elsewhere)

Neil Teodoro Emeritus/Nihil Emeritus/Papa Nihil March 19, 1941-March 3, 2020 Born in Italy, moved to the US with his mother when he was too young to remember. Estranged from his father who was a previous Papa. Brought back to the Ministry when he was an adult by Sister Imperator. Leader of Ghost from mid-1960s to late 1970s. Has four kids (possibly five if we're including RHRN spoilers)

Elizabeth "Betty" Liliana Emeritus/Sister Elizabeth January 5, 1921-TBA Born in Italy, had a relationship with a Papa during the time. Ended up having a son with him. She and her son Neil ended up moving to the US when her ex didn't want to be in their lives anymore. Picrew:

Lucas Theodore Clarkson/Primo Emeritus/Papa Primo October 8, 1957-March 2018 Born in the US, co-parented by Nihil and Lucy Clarkson for a while until he was brought to the Ministry by his father. Nihil changed his name to Primo Emeritus. Leader of Ghost from 2008-2012.

Lucille "Lucy" Clarkson June 12, 1941-TBA Born in the US, dated Neil in high school. Had Lucas when she and Neil were sixteen. Mostly raised him on her own with help from her family, Neil, and his mother. Originally planned on marrying Neil once she finished college but it didn't work out. Allowed Nihil to bring Lucas to the Ministry when he was a bit older. Wasn't involved with the Ministry. Received updates on Primo and saw him occasionally. Picrew (pictured around highschool ish here):

Lauro (LOW-ro) 'Secondo' Emeritus/Papa Secondo October 24, 1970-March 2018 Born in LA to Papa Nihil and a Sister of Sin named Dafne. Grew up in the Italy Ministry. Leader of Ghost from 2012-2015.

Dafne (Italian spelling of Daphne) Santoro/Sister Dafne August 23, 1943-TBA Born in Italy, grew up in the Ministry. Used to be in a long-term relationship with Papa Nihil but broke it off when he cheated. Mother to Secondo. Picrew:

Lorenzo 'Terzo' Emeritus/Papa Terzo January 28, 1971-March 2018 Born in LA to Rosalie Arnaud (she gave him up to the Ministry). Grew up in the Ministry. Was in a serious relationship with Omega Ghoul from 1997 all the way until Terzo's death. Leader of Ghost from 2015-2017.

Rosalie Arnaud May 11, 1948-??? Born in France. Traveled to LA. Met and had a fling with Papa Nihil which resulted in Terzo. Was not in Terzo's life. Picrew:

Irene Acerbi/Sister Irene/Sister Imperator April 3, 1944-September 12, 2023 Born in Italy, past mostly unknown. Brought Papa Nihil back to the Ministry. Has had an on-and-off relationship with Papa Nihil throughout the years. Secret mother to Copia. Involved with Ghost for years. Had Primo, Secondo, and Terzo killed.

Copia Abate/Cardinal Copia/Papa Copia/Frater Imperator July 7, 1979- Grew up in Italy at the Ministry as a supposed orphan. Saw Primo, Secondo, and Terzo as his brother figures. Saw Sister Imperator as a mother figure. Didn't know Sister Imperator and Papa Nihil were his parents until semi-recently. In a relationship (eventually) with Silas Petersson. Leader of Ghost from March 2018-2023. Promoted to Sister's position once she passed, under the title of Frater Imperator. Only has a last name for legal reasons given to him by the Clergy and it's just Abate (From Italian abate meaning "abbot, priest")

Silas Adrian Petersson May 14, 1986- Born in Austin, Texas. Spent his childhood between Texas and Sweden with his mother in Texas and his father in Sweden. Moved to Linköping, Sweden some time in his late teens. In a relationship (eventually) with Copia. Works as a janitor at the Ministry. Started working there in 2013.

Caroline "Carol" Andrews & Nicholas Petersson Carol: 1962- Nicholas: 1961- Carol: Born outside Dallas, Texas. Nicholas: Born in Sweden, near Linköping. They met when Nicholas participated in the foreign exchange student program at Carol's high school. Dated and eventually married. Had Silas. Eventually divorced on good terms (they weren't compatible and are just best friends now) when he was a kid. Co-parented Silas very well post-divorce. Stay very involved with each other's lives. Picrews:

Hanna Liv (LEEV) Ekström (EHK-struum) December 4, 1987- Born in Sweden. Childhood best friends with Silas. In a relationship (eventually) with Kersti. Works as a dog groomer.

Kersti (SHEHSH-tee) Beck/Sister Kersti March 11, 1986- Born in Sápmi to her parents, her father is Sámi, and her mother is Swedish. Her parents decided to move closer to her mother's Swedish family and assimilate more due to pressures. In a relationship (eventually) with Hanna. Became a Sister of Sin at the Ministry. Her stay there was always going to be temporary until she moved back to her childhood home in Sápmi.

Pigeon Ghoul ??? Summoned as a "spare ghoul" during Cardinal Copia's era. Air and Multi Ghoul lineage. Wears an old mask and uniform.

[girlactionfigure]

THURSDAY HERO: Princess Alice

Amazing story! Princess Alice was an unconventional royal who prioritized helping others over wealth and privilege. She devoted her life to good deeds and spiritual growth, and was notable among European royalty for taking Jews into her home during the Holocaust.

Princess Alice stood out for another reason: she was deaf from birth.

Born in 1885 at Windsor Castle, Alice was the great-granddaughter of Queen Victoria. She learned to lip read at a young age, and could speak several languages. Alice was widely regarded as the most beautiful princess in Europe.

At age 17, Alice fell in love with dashing Prince Andrew of Greece and they were married in 1903. Alice and Andrew had four daughters and a son. Their son Philip would later be married to Queen Elizabeth II. Alice communicated with her children mainly in sign language.

Political turmoil in Greece forced the royal family into exile. They settled in a sleepy suburb of Paris, where Alice threw herself into charitable work helping Greek refugees. Her husband left her for a life of gambling and debauchery in Monte Carlo.

Relying on the charity of wealthy relatives, Alice found strength in her Greek Orthodox faith. She became increasingly religious, and believed that she was receiving divine messages and had healing powers. She yearned to share her faith and mystical experiences with others, but instead was dismissed as mentally unhinged.

Alice had a nervous breakdown in 1930. She was committed against her will to a mental institution in Switzerland, with a dubious diagnosis of schizophrenia. Alice did not even get a chance to say goodbye to her children. Her youngest, 9 year old Philip, returned from a picnic to find his mother gone.

Alice tried desperately to leave the asylum, but was kept prisoner in Switzerland for 2 1/2 years. During that time, her beloved son Philip was sent to live with relatives, and her four daughters married German princes. Alice was not allowed to attend any of their weddings.

Finally, in 1932, Alice was released. She became a wanderer, traveling through Europe by herself, staying with relatives or at bed & breakfast inns. In 1935, Alice returned to Greece, where she lived alone in a modest two bedroom apartment and worked with the poor.

The Germans occupied Athens in April 1941. Alice devoted herself to relieving the tremendous suffering in her country. She worked for the Red Cross, organizing soup kitchens and creating shelters for orphaned children. Alice also started a nursing service to provide health care to the poorest Athenians.

In 1943, the Germans started deporting the Jews of Athens to concentration camps. Alice hid a Jewish widow, Rachel Cohen, and her children in her own apartment for over a year. Rachel’s late husband, Haimaki Cohen, was an advisor to King George I of Greece, and Alice considered it her solemn duty to save the remaining Cohen family.

Alice lived yards from Gestapo headquarters. When the Germans became suspicious of her and started asking questions, she used her deafness as an excuse not to answer them. Alice kept the Cohen family safe until Greece was liberated in 1944.

After the war, Alice founded her own religious order, the Christian Sisterhood of Martha and Mary, and became a nun. She built a convent and orphanage in a poverty-stricken part of Athens. Alice dressed in a nun’s habit consisting of a drab gray robe, white wimple, cord and rosary beads – but still enjoyed smoking and playing cards.

In 1967, after a Greek military coup, Alice finally returned to Great Britain. She lived at Buckingham Palace with her son Philip and daughter-in-law, Queen Elizabeth II.

Alice died in 1969. She owned no possessions, having given everything to the poor. Before she died, Alice expressed a desire to be buried at the Convent of Saint Mary Magdalene on the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem, but instead was laid to rest in the Royal Crypt in Windsor Castle.

In 1988, almost 20 years after she died, Alice’s dying wish was finally granted. Her remains were sent to Jerusalem, where she was buried on the Mount of Olives.

In 1994, Alice was honored by the Holocaust Memorial in Jerusalem (Yad Vashem) as Righteous Among The Nations. Her son Prince Philip said of his mother’s wartime heroism, “I suspect that it never occurred to her that her action was in any way special. She was a person with a deep religious faith, and she would have considered it to be a perfectly natural human reaction to fellow beings in distress.”

Video

[eretzyisrael]

By BEATRICE SAYERS

An event in London last week to mark the exodus and expulsion of Jews from Arab countries became an opportunity to counter the current far-left narrative that paints Israel as a country of white settlers.

Organiser Lyn Julius, who runs Harif, the association of Jews from the Middle East and North Africa, told the audience at JW3 that 50 percent of Jews in Israel have roots in Arab and Muslim countries. They had not left those countries willingly, she added, and many left as a result of massacres.

“Families butchered like sheep, bodies buried in the debris of homes in which pogromists had locked the families before setting them on fire. Jewish girls raped, their breasts cut off. No, I am not describing 7 October 2023,” Julius said. “We have been here before. It’s an anti-Jewish atrocity which occurred in Constantine, Algeria, in 1934. But I could have cited any number of similarly barbaric atrocities: in Fez, Morocco, in 1912, in Tripoli, Libya, in 1945, in Iraq in 1941 the Farhud, which claimed the lives of at least 179 Jews.”

She pointed out that Israel was “the solution to pre-existing antisemitism” that had led to pogroms across the region. “In a generation and a half almost all the ancient, pre-Islamic Jewish communities of the Middle East and North Africa have been ethnically cleansed. Hamas simply wants to finish the job. From almost a million Jews in 1948, only about 4,000 remain, and that number dwindles year by year.”

Julius herself is the child of parents who came to Britain from the Iraqi capital Baghdad in 1950. A film shown at the event presented testimony from Jews who had been forced out of their native counties in the Middle East and North Africa.

Jocelyne Shrago is one of the four people interviewed in the film, commissioned from Daisy Abboudi, deputy director of the oral history archive Sephardi Voices UK.

Shrago, who was born in Algeria, told how during the Constantine pogrom her parents and sister went over the wall to the Arab family who lived next door, who saved them. She recalls the bombing campaign during the Algerian war of independence in the 1950s, when she covered her baby niece with her body to protect her. “People had to leave in ‘62 because on the walls there was graffiti that said ‘La valise ou le cercueil’, ‘the suitcase or the coffin’.” Some went to Israel. Her family on both sides went to France, where she lived until 1968, when she moved to the UK.

Other speakers at the event last Thursday, the ninth that Harif has organised, included Baroness (Ruth) Deech, Joseph Dweck, senior rabbi of the S&P Sephardi Community, Marie van der Zyl, president of the Board of Deputies, Claudia Mendoza, chief executive of the Jewish Leadership Council, and the Israeli ambassador Tzipi Hotovely. The ambassador said Mizrachi Jews were not just 50 percent of Israel’s population but had shaped her history. “Israel today is a very healthy mix between west and east.”

Mendoza spoke movingly about her mother’s family, who are from Aden. They were forced to flee and her grandfather was murdered. “The clarity with which my family speak when they talk about threats to your life because you’re a Jew resonate more than ever today. They have seen it before and they do not have the luxury of denalism.”

But she also had a powerful and uplifting message to the Jewish community, and warned it not catastrophise or retreat into itself.

“The polling that we’ve done at the JLC [Jewish Leadership Council] after the October 7 attack shows that while there may be a small number of extremists in the UK who support Hamas, and they must be called out, the vast majority of British people recognise them for the murderous terrorists that they are and they reject those that wish to target jews here in the UK.

“If we fight as if we are surrounded exclusively by enemies, we risk by that very attitude making enemies we didn’t previously have, and losing friends whose sympathies we fail to notice. We have so many friends, I promise you that.”

[mycolourfullworld]

Olivia de Havilland

*She confessed had an intense crush on Errol Flynn during the years of their filming, saying that it was hard to resist his charms.She and Errol Flynn acted together in eight movies: The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), Captain Blood (1935), The Charge of the Light Brigade (1936), Dodge City (1939), Four's a Crowd (1938), The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939), Santa Fe Trail (1940), and They Died with Their Boots On (1941) Both are also featured in a ninth film, Thank Your Lucky Stars (1943), although in separate scenes.

*Olivia accepted two film roles turned down by Ginger Rogers: To Each His Own (1946) and The Snake Pit (1948). She won an Oscar for To Each His Own (1946) and was nominated for The Snake Pit (1948). Rogers later regretted turning down the roles and wrote: "It seemed Olivia knew a good thing when she saw it. Perhaps Olivia should thank me for such poor judgment".

*She and Joan Fontaine are the first sisters to win Oscars and the first ones to be Oscar-nominated in the same year.Relations between Olivia and younger sister Joan Fontaine were never strong and worsened in 1941, when both were nominated for Best Actress Oscars. Their mutual dislike and jealousy escalated into an all-out feud after Fontaine won for Suspicion (1941). Despite the fact that de Havilland went on to win two Academy Awards of her own, they remained permanently estranged.As de Havilland once told a reporter: “My sister was born a lion, and I was born a tiger, and in the laws of the jungle, they were never friends.”

*James Cagney has said that she was his favorite leading lady. They appeared together in The Irish in Us (1935), A Midsummer Night's Dream (1935), and made a most memorable romantic pairing in The Strawberry Blonde (1941).

*In 1943, de Havilland battled Warner Brothers in court over her contract with the film company. This marked the beginning of the end of the studio system as the California Supreme Court ruled in favour of de Havilland who claimed Warner Bros. was forcing her to stay beyond her seven-year agreement. As of 1945, the “de Havilland rule” was put into place by all major Hollywood studios, effectively stating that companies could not sign actors to contracts that extended beyond a maximum of seven calendar years.

*In 1965 she became the first female president of the jury at the Cannes Film Festival.

*Revealed in a UK press interview that she was a great admirer of Queen Mother (whom she had earlier portrayed in the TV film The Royal Romance of Charles and Diana (1982)), stating that she hoped "to follow her example and live many years longer". De Havilland would go onto match and beat the Queen Mother's eventual lifespan of 101 years and 238 days old.De Havilland died at age 104.