#leonard x helen

[foundtherightwords]

Through the World's Far Ends

Pairing: Leonard Bast x Helen Schlegel (Howards End)

Summary: Several years after his ill-fated affair with Helen, Leonard enlists to fight in World War I, hoping it would put an end to his miserable life. However, when he runs into Helen again in the trenches of Passchendaele, Leonard discovers that life may still be worth living after all.

Warnings: angst, mentions of war, violence, and injuries, implied infidelity, suicide ideations

Word count: 7.2k

If I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam, A body of England's, breathing English air, Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

Those lines echoed in Leonard's ears as he looked over the mud-churned fields of Passchendaele that rainy October day of 1917. Had he read them ten years ago, back when he was still a boy of barely twenty-one with a head full of dreams and a heart full of poetry, he would have marveled at their beautiful ideal, their quiet exultation. Now, he couldn't help but snicker at them for their hopeless sentimentality. If there was anything of England in these foreign fields at all, it probably wouldn't be the England that pretty, posh Rupert Brooke was thinking about. No, it would be the England that Leonard himself was familiar with, the England of damp basement dwellings, of grimy streets, of cold and hunger, and long, tedious nights.

And if he should die, there would be no one to think of him. Not his brother and his two sisters, who had long ago given up on him. Certainly not Jacky, who would never have let him enlist had she still been alive. Poor Jacky. She had been rather excited when the war first broke out. To be honest, so had he. There had been a fevered exhilaration in the air, a sense of purpose in everything and everyone, hectic but thrilling at the same time, which had distracted the two of them, for a moment, from the miserable humdrum of their existence.

Still, for all that excitement, Jacky wouldn't hear of him enlisting, even though it would've at least solved their immediate financial problem—the Army pay wasn't much, but it would be something for her to live on. But she had burst into tears whenever he mentioned it. "No, Len!" she'd kept saying, clinging to him as if afraid Lord Kitchener would come to personally snatch him away. "If something happened to you, how would I live?"

Leonard had been tempted to say that if he should be killed, she could count on a war widow's pension, but Jacky had become so hysterical that he'd only given her a clumsy hug and said, "All right, Jacky, I won't go," while trying to hide the bitterness in his voice.

When she succumbed to the consumption that had been slowly eating away at her, a little over a year later, Leonard had sincerely mourned her. She had been his constant companion, for better or worse, for nearly ten years, and when she was gone, she left a void, if not in his heart then at least in his life. While she was alive, he had to find ways to provide for her, to take care of her. Without her, he was without a purpose.

After Jacky died, he'd thought that he would simply flicker out and die too. But he found that it was not so simple. Living had become a habit, and like any habit, it was difficult to shake off. And so he had enlisted, only waiting a decent period after Jacky's funeral so it wouldn't seem he was defying her memories. He didn't much care about the war. He only thought that if he couldn't give up his life on his own, he would let others snuff it out. He completed his training and was sent to Belgium just before conscription was introduced, in January 1916.

But even in the war, death eluded him. His health, which had suffered from malnourishment and the smog and grimes of London, actually improved thanks to Army food and regular, if strenuous, exercises. He didn't mind the cold and the wet and the mud of the trenches. And though he had seen men die in front of him, men blown to bits by shells, men cut to ribbons by barbed wires, men blistered and blinded and cooked inside out by mustard gas, and men who drowned in the mud because their friends were forbidden to pull them out, though death was all around him, he remained more or less untouched.

To be fair, he didn't exactly go looking for death. He thought that before he died, he should make himself useful and do what he could to help others, so he did. He followed orders without asking questions, bent his head under the explosions and the gas and the horrible weather and did as he was told. He tried not to shoot when he could help it, and when he did shoot, tried not to aim at anyone in particular. He didn't want that on his conscience as well. He preferred the menial work, never shying from digging and repairing the trenches, acting as a stretcher bearer, and carrying supplies to the front.

What he really wanted was to stop thinking. Once, a long time ago, during the darkest time of his life, and also the best time of his life, he'd wished for something to do, to stop him from thinking. Now he believed that if he toiled hard enough, made himself tired enough, he would be able to stop thinking. It didn't quite work yet. Even on days when he'd only had an hour or two of sleep, the thoughts kept coming, slowly but inexorably—about death, about Jacky, about things he'd done and hadn't done, about things he had buried deep in his mind—all rattling inside his skull like lunatics rattling the bars of their cages. The one thing he didn't think about was the future, for there was no future. The war may never end, and for some people, it would never end. Leonard had seen enough wounded men and shell-shocked men and men with scars deep within them, where nobody could see except for those who knew where to look, and he understood that those men would never come back from the war, regardless of what happened to them. Sometimes he wondered if he would be one of them.

Such thoughts were presently crowding his head as he turned over in the dugout, trying to find a comfortable position. There was a lull in the racket of gunfire and shellfire and rain, and he wanted to get some rest—not sleep, he had forgotten what it was like to really sleep for months now—before nightfall. A new shipment of supplies had just been brought in that day on mules and wagons, and Leonard's infantry unit would be assigned to haul these to the front after dusk fell.

The other men in the dugout were squabbling. Leonard didn't mind the bickering. In fact, he welcomed their voices to drown out the thoughts in his head. It appeared Percy Armitage had received some gramophone records in the post that had come with the supplies, but due to some accident or carelessness, the sleeves had been misplaced, and now they were arguing which was which and which to play first. The men were often sent little gifts like that from home, and these were freely shared amongst them all—it was how Leonard became acquainted with the works of Rupert Brooke and other war poets. Though books these days no longer held the allure and enchantment they once had for him, they were something to relieve the boredom in the trenches. All his life, Leonard had wished he could discuss books and music and culture with easiness, an easiness that did not come easily for men of his class. He thought, with a grim sense of smugness, that he could do so now, provided that the books were about the horrors of war.

"Lads, lads," Percy, a veteran of the Boer War and therefore older than most of them, was saying, like a stern but benevolent father to his children. "You shall all get a turn. But these are my records, and I'm going to choose first."

There was a scratching sound of the needle being lowered onto the record. The first soft notes floated out, and as if by magic, all the men fell silent, enraptured by the unimaginably normal, everyday sound of music.

But Leonard was mistaken—the music wasn't soft, not at all. For a moment, it seemed the shellfire and the thunder were coming in the middle of the day instead of at night as usual, as the first notes did not float but boomed from the gramophone, followed by bursts of what sounded like rapid gunfire that chased each other around the cramped dugout. While the music built and built, Leonard could almost hear the chill wind that blew across the battlefield, feel the drumming of the rain on his skin, and see, under his closed eyelids, the men jumping up from the trenches during a raid or slinking across No Man's Land for a reconnaissance in a moonless night. Herr Beethoven had never been to the trenches of Belgium, so how the devil did he capture it so well in his music? For it was, indeed, Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, such as Leonard hadn't heard in years and years.

And, as though stirred by the music, memories surfaced—the gallery at Covent Garden, the music halls, the evenings he could get away from his desk at Porphyrion early enough to lose himself for a few hours in music and culture, but he never quite managed to lose himself in it, not really, no matter how diligently he attended the operas and the concerts, no matter how many books he read, he knew all the names but could never form his own opinion about them. And another memory, one of those he had buried away—a girl, her hair coming loose under her hat, her eyes, so bright they lit up the dreary interior of the Prince Regent's Hall, transfixed on the orchestra while she swayed slightly to the music, her elbow almost touching his a few times.

For the first time in seven years, Leonard allowed himself to think of her a little.

Helen. Miss Schlegel. His Miss Schlegel. No, not his. Never his.

He'd looked at her with wonder and envy then, in the gloom of the Prince Regent's Hall, like a failed artist looking at a painting in the National Gallery. Why did the music move her so? What was she hearing that he wasn't? What did one have to do to acquire such passion? Even back then he'd known, this was something he could never attain, something he could never be, and that was what had drawn him to her. He'd always tried to pursue beauty, always on some hopeless quest for it, but only ended up getting sucked down into the mud—not that different from where he was now, really.

In the past seven years, he had become quite adept at not thinking about her. Whenever he saw something that reminded him of her—and a lot of things reminded him of her—he would immediately find something else to think of, was there anything left in the cupboard for supper, whether he could persuade the landlord to hold off the rent collection for another week, whether it was too soon to write to one of his sisters, Blanche or Laura, again, to ask for money. He'd think and think furiously until all thoughts of Helen were pushed from his mind. He did it almost automatically now. It had turned into a habit, like everything else. 

But here, in this cramped and clammy dugout, that habit had deserted him. Even some hours later, when he lifted the heavy pack full of hot rations on his back and walked out into the rain and the cold, she still occupied his thoughts, slow and dull as they were from lack of sleep. He stepped on the duckboards that crisscrossed the muddy landscape, one small figure in a long snaking line of similar figures, while shells and bullets whizzed by him, while the sweet stink of rot and the acrid smell of mustard gas assaulted his nostrils, while rain drummed on his tin hat, but he hardly noticed any of them. His mind was filled with Helen, Helen when he'd first seen her at the Prince Regent's Hall, Helen in her bright dining room at Wickham Place, her head tipped to the side as she urged him to talk about his walking, enthusiasm aflame in her eyes. And most of all, Helen when he'd last seen her. He heard her gently chiding voice, saw her face full of sympathy when she discovered the squalor in which he and Jacky had been living, felt the force of her righteous fury as she tried to help them, dragging them to confront the man she believed had been responsible for their misfortune—Henry Wilcox, the then-fiancé of Helen's sister, Margaret.

He thought of other things as well, things buried even deeper. He remembered the fire-lit room in the hotel in Oniton, the utter shame and despair he'd felt when he revealed the truth about Mr. Wilcox and Jacky to Helen, the tears in Helen's eyes as she drew him to her, her arms around him, comforting and seeking comfort at the same time, her mouth trembling under his, their bodies finding each other like two magnets, or perhaps two drowning victims in a heaving sea.

He wondered if she ever thought of him.

Probably not.

He wondered if she was still living in Germany. Margaret, Mrs. Wilcox, had told him so, on that freezing spring day seven years ago, when he trudged to the Wilcoxes' residence on Ducie Street in the hope of finding someone, anyone, to whom to confess his sin. Upon finding out from Mrs. Wilcox that Helen had been traveling in Germany and perhaps planning to stay there indefinitely, the confession died on his lips. He'd thought he knew her reason for staying away. Helen had asked her brother to send him a check of five thousand pounds, but the sight of it, with his guilt still so fresh in his mind, had burned Leonard so much that he'd returned it. At Ducie Street, he'd looked into Mrs. Wilcox's sharp and sad eyes, wondering what she knew, how much Helen had told her. Fear and shame had choked his voice, and he had gone back to his basement, unabsolved.

He had been so desperate, the remorse corroding him so relentlessly that he'd almost confessed to Jacky. But he'd held himself back. If he hadn't managed to control himself with Helen, then at least he had to control himself with Jacky. Telling her would have achieved nothing except to selfishly force her to bear the pain with him, and Jacky wouldn't have been able to bear it. Leonard had argued with himself that Jacky's affair with Mr. Wilcox might have driven him and Helen into each other's arms, but it didn't change the fact that Jacky had been the innocent party in his affair with Helen. It would have been cruel to deprive her of that innocence. And so Leonard had kept quiet and was determined never to think of Helen again, until now.

The irons of guilt were still there, but time and the horrors he'd witnessed in the war had blunted the edges, leaving only a kind of bittersweet nostalgia. Yes, he had done wrong and lost control of himself. But he had also gotten an adventure out of it, had seen and touched and tasted something of beauty. And hadn't he paid enough for his crime in the seven years since? So perhaps that was all right. He only wished Helen didn't have to pay as well.

Lost in his memories, Leonard didn't notice a shell exploding right next to him. He didn't feel the shrapnel hit him. He was only momentarily confused when the world went mute and turned sideways, but even that confusion didn't last long, for he soon had his answer when he fell off the duckboards and sank into the mud.

His last thought was, I hope they don't pull me out.

And then, the mud came over his head, and finally, mercifully, he stopped thinking.

***

In the field ambulance of the Women's Hospital Corps, Helen Schlegel was sitting down with a cigarette. What she really wanted was some hot cocoa, to have the thick sweet taste of it remind her of lazy evenings at Wickham Place, curled up on the bed with Meg and Tibby, talking about their day, laughing over nothing at all, in those carefree years that seemed a lifetime ago. But the supplies had run out, so she had to make do with a cigarette. She had been on her feet for nearly fourteen hours, and had only had about three hours of sleep before that, though she hardly felt tired anymore. Exhaustion was now a state of being, and she had gotten used to it, just as she had gotten used to a lot of things since joining the Corps two years ago. Even after the main Women's Hospital closed in Paris in 1915 and a new one opened in London, she had elected to stay with the field hospital, despite Meg's pleas for her to come home.

If Helen was honest with herself, she would admit that she was rather apprehensive about returning home. She hadn't stepped foot on English soil in seven years. When the war broke out, she had decided to stay in Munich, where she had been living at the time—after all, she was half-German, and she felt that to turn her back on Germany would equal turning her back on her own late father. Besides, there was a huge upsurge of anti-German hatred in England, as Meg had written to her. Tibby had had some trouble when enlisting due to his German last name. But it soon became clear that she could no longer go on living in Germany, if for nothing else than the simple reason of food shortage. Her German cousins were struggling themselves and could not help. So Helen had gotten on a train with every intention of returning to England, when her route brought her to Paris and the Women's Hospital there. Suddenly she'd found a place where she could be of use, since she spoke French and German and could help both patients and doctors. When Helen wrote to tell her sister she was staying, Meg had come to Paris herself, looking thin and worn-out, with gray in her hair. Her husband, Henry, had recently died. Henry's children, who had never quite accepted their father's second marriage, had kept their distance, and Meg had been living by herself in Howards End. Helen had briefly considered coming home to keep her sister company, but she'd decided she could do more good on the battlefield. So she'd told Meg to take care, and stayed.

When asked about her family, Helen always said that she'd lost her husband in the Somme. It was easier than the truth, though she believed that her fellow nurses and the doctors would not care or judge her if they knew. They were all women, most of them her age or older than her, but not by much, some younger, eager-eyed graduates from Oxford and Cambridge, and had seen a lot in their training. Looking at them, Helen wished she had gone to college, had done something more worthwhile with her youth. Oh, she had filled her days with plenty of pursuits, certainly, but what good had those done her, or anybody else, for that matter? Quite the opposite, in fact. It had all been frivolous, the meetings, the causes, the anger, and had led only to heartache and tragedy, not only for herself but for her family and for others as well. Yes, one good and beautiful thing had come from all that, but it was a miracle that it had existed at all, and Helen had to remind herself that the result of beauty did not absolve her of the sin she'd committed in creating it. She supposed it was why she had been so keen on staying at the front to help the wounded. She wished to atone.

And here was another chance for atonement—some stretcher-bearers were trudging toward the ambulance tent, their gait heavy and plodding. Helen sighed. She wasn't expecting to get any sleep—nighttime at the front was rarely quiet—but she'd had a letter from Meg and had been hoping to read it. Well, it could wait. She took one last drag of her cigarette, stubbed it out, and went out to meet the men.

When she first laid eyes on the form lying on the stretcher, in the gloom at the entrance of the tent, Helen thought the bearers were playing a practical joke and bringing them a load of sandbags. As they walked further into the light, she saw that it was not sandbags but a man, a man almost completely encased in mud. There were orders not to stop for anyone who fell off the duckboards, since doing so would hold up the line, but the stretcher-bearers explained that this man had been carrying hot rations, and the others, wanting to save his pack, had pulled him out along with it. The hot food had been recovered, so now here was the man—saved almost as an afterthought. Lucky bastard.

The women of the Corps didn't care who the wounded were, British or French or German, or why they were saved. So the mud-cased man was rolled off the stretcher onto a temporary bed. Helen and another nurse, Vera, who had left her history study at Queen's College in Cambridge to train with the Voluntary Aid Detachment, started picking off the mud in bloody chunks, dropping them into a bucket by the bed, and wiping off the residue with damp sponges. The man was still breathing, his chest moving up and down rapidly.

Vera removed the man's clothes with scissors and sucked in a breath. "He's got a lot of shrapnel in his legs, Helen," she said.

Helen continued to wash the man. "There's a lot on his back as well. I think he's going to need some morphine."

"I'll get it," Vera said and walked briskly off.

Under the sponge, the man shivered. "You seem to have a knack for finding me at my worst, Miss Schlegel," he said.

His voice was hoarse, clogged with mud, but it rang a bell in Helen's mind, a bell from far away and a long time ago, a time when she'd cared about music and art and social justice and fighting against the likes of Henry Wilcox. It had nothing to do with this world of mud and blood, when all she cared about was to help these men—boys, really—and to give them a little comfort while it still mattered. The war had simplified a lot of things for her. But apparently not enough, for here was the past, coming back for her in the form of—

"Mister Bast?" she asked, not quite believing it. "Leonard Bast?"

With trembling hands, she picked off the clay that had dried on his face like a death mask and gave him a quick wipe of the sponge. A pair of brown eyes, gentle and patient like those of a cocker spaniel's, blinked at her from under long lashes clumped together with mud.

"Good evening, Miss Schlegel," he said, with great difficulty.

Helen bolted up from the bed, heart hammering as if someone had trapped a machine gun in her chest.

Vera brought the morphine. "Are you all right, Helen?" she asked. "You're looking quite pale."

"I need some air," Helen managed to reply, before walking away, ignoring the bewildered look tinged with hurt in the brown eyes of the wounded man.

She ran out of the tent, into the cold and rain outside. The sky was a faded, patchy black cloth, lit up by the shells that flew and fell and exploded like fireworks. She couldn't tell if those shells came from the German side or the British side. She could only pray they didn't find their targets. A horrible smell hung in the air, the same smell that clung to her clothes and her hair and her sleep, the battlefield smell of death and gunpowder and mustard gas, but she breathed it in anyway, trying to clear her head and her heart.

Her first instinct was to weep, weep for the broken body covered in mud and the ruined, wheezing voice. Occasionally, she did weep over the wounded boys that came through the hospital, wept at the look in their eyes, sometimes imploring, sometimes reproachful, and at her own helplessness. But then came a burst of absurd joy, brighter than the shells exploding over her head. What did she have to be joyful about in this world, where boys were sent to die senselessly, meaninglessly? For a moment, she didn't care. He's here! Alive and—perhaps not well, exactly, but as well as could be! For a moment, she was that carefree girl again, curled up in bed with her brother and sister, comforted in the certainty that tomorrow would be exactly the same as today.

In the past seven years, if she thought about Leonard at all, it was often with regret and remorse. It was not that she wished she had behaved differently or things had turned out another way—no, never that. But she wished she could have given him some peace and let him know she never blamed him, so he mustn't blame himself. For she knew now what agony he'd lived through in all those years. One look at those eyes, so timid and frightened as they settled on her, and she knew. Yet there had been joy in those eyes as well, the same joy coursing through her that made her want to both laugh and cry.

Well, he was here now. If she wanted to let him know all that, she could. And she was finished with running away.

She went back inside. Vera was still washing Leonard's back, wiping away the seemingly inexhaustible mud. Helen took the sponge from her. "Let me do it," she said.

"Are you sure?" Vera asked. "You were very pale back there."

"I'm fine now. Go on, take your break." She handed Vera her pack of cigarettes.

With one last quizzical look at Helen, Vera pocketed the cigarettes and went out.

Leonard's eyes lit up as Helen sat down by the bed, and she felt her heart constrict, sweetly, painfully, in her chest.

"I thought you were a dream," he croaked.

"Don't try to talk," she said. It came out harsher than she'd intended. She asked him to move his fingers—good—move his toes—not good—turn his head—not so far, good—and told him she was going to remove the shrapnel now, short, business-like instructions and explanations, same as she did with all the wounded men.

"Have you been here all this time?" asked Leonard.

"We've been in Flanders since last year, yes."

He let out a small exhale, like a sigh, or perhaps a little laugh, amused at the twist of fate that had brought them together yet again.

"You're not pleased to see me," he said.

Helen reached for the tweezers, steadied her hand, and delicately picked a scrap of metal out of his flesh. "Don't be silly. I was shocked, that's all. It's not every day one finds a friend in a cake of mud."

"Is that what we are—friends?"

Were they? She didn't know what else to call him, what name she could give to the connection between them, fragile and near invisible yet indestructible as a strand of spider web. Henry Wilcox used to call Leonard her protégé, but she'd always hated how condescending that sounded. What then? Her lover? She didn't love him. What had happened between them that agonizing, intoxicating, magical night seven years ago was fueled by many things—pity, loneliness, even anger and a thirst for revenge—but not love. When she thought she'd fallen in love with Paul, Mr. Wilcox's youngest son, it had been madness. With Leonard, it had been madness as well, though a very different kind. She wasn't even sure if she was capable of loving someone in that way. Now, though, with her heart in turmoil and her hands shaking so much she was afraid she couldn't remove the shrapnel from his flesh without hurting him, Helen was no longer so sure.

So—a friend, then. It was inadequate, but it would have to do. She forced herself to say, as cheerfully as she could, "Yes, of course."

"I thought you'd be in England."

"I decided I would be more useful here."

They spoke politely, expressionlessly, like two passing acquaintances chatting at a train station's waiting room over cups of tea.

"How is—how's your family? Your brother and sister?"

"Tibby was wounded in Thiepval and was sent home last year. Meg is well. Her husband died, so she and—and Tibby are living at Howards End now. It's the Wilcoxes' country home, in Hertfordshire," she added, remembering that Leonard had never heard of Howards End.

Leonard was silent, then—"I'm sorry about Mr. Wilcox."

"I'm sorry for Meg. I've never liked him." Though she had come to understand Meg's love for Mr. Wilcox and no longer blamed the man for what happened with the Basts, Helen could never like him, personally. "How is Mrs. Bast?"

"She died, too," he said, his voice muted. "Consumption. Two years ago."

The tweezers froze between Helen's fingers. "Oh, Mr. Bast. I'm dreadfully sorry."

Leonard tried to shrug, but couldn't. They both fell quiet for a while. Helen thought about those who had gone and those who remained, like themselves, and how tangled their lives were, still. She also thought that Leonard had changed. Gone were his easily wounded pride, the bristling armor he clutched close to his person to protect himself from the world, and his desperate attempt at dignity. Now he gazed upon the world with more confidence, or perhaps simply with indifference, less troubled about what others thought of him. But he was sadder as well—indefinitely sadder, with that same faraway look in his eyes that she had seen in all of the wounded men that had gone through the hospital. She bent over his muddy body again.

"This large bit of shrapnel will have to come out under anesthetics," she said. "It can wait until the morning."

She finished getting out all the pieces of shrapnel she could, and slathered some antiseptic paste on the wounds. His body had changed as well. He was still thin and pale, but there was strength and a certain wiriness in him, and his paleness was simply due to the lack of sun, not from ill health. Muscles that she hadn't noticed before stood out in his back and shoulders. Then she realized she was caressing his back, blushed—and here she thought she'd forgotten how to blush—and pulled her hand away.

Leonard trembled again and grimaced. "I think—I think I'm getting my feelings back."

"Oh dear, how careless of me!" cried Helen. "I forgot—I'll give you some morphine for the pain." She injected the morphine, chattering inanely all the while, "It's good that you're feeling pain, you know. That means no nerves are damaged. But your leg is broken. I think you have a blighty one here. You'll have to go back to England." He looked away with a deep sigh, his eyes darkening, and didn't answer her. "You're not pleased about going home, Mr. Bast?"

"There's nothing for me to come home to."

If she wished to atone, then here was her chance. Yet for all her remorse, Helen had never once imagined what the scene of confession would look like, what she would say, what he would say. She took a deep breath, steeling herself.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bast—Leonard," she said.

Some light came back to his eyes when she called his name. "Sorry for what?"

"For running off that day—that morning—after—after—Oniton. For not explaining things afterward."

"There is nothing to explain." The light in his eyes dimmed again.

"Yes, there is. There is a lot to explain. Such as why I sent you that check—which, by the way, why did you send it back?"

"I told you, I didn't want your charity," he said through gritted teeth.

Helen smiled inwardly. Still that pride. So he hadn't changed after all, not that much. "It wasn't charity, you silly boy," she said, the term of endearment coming to her naturally. "I was—I was trying to right a wrong."

"You didn't do anything wrong."

"Yes, I did. I ruined your life."

"And I ruined yours," he said. "So I suppose we're even."

Helen gazed at him for a long, long time. He looked back straight at her. He had only done so once before, and when she caught the blaze in his eyes, the memory of their night came back, giving her strength. Eventually, she said, "You didn't ruin my life, Leonard. You have given me the best thing I could ever hope for."

And while Leonard looked on, puzzled, she retreated to the nurses' station in a corner of the tent, in search of Meg's letter.

***

Leonard watched her go. He'd considered refusing the morphine. The pain didn't bother him much. It was like the little irons, the ones that used to scorch his insides whenever he thought of Helen, had returned, only they were on the outside of his body now. Outside pain was much easier to bear. But while his mind was shrugging off the pain, his body couldn't, and his flesh jumped and writhed where the shrapnel had cut it, which was everywhere, inhibiting his breath, his speech. The morphine relaxed him, but it washed over his mind like the waves of some dark sea, making his head swim, making him afraid this had all been a dream.

It had been like a dream, when her voice came to him through the thick mud clogging his ears and the deafening ringing left by the explosion. If he hadn't been thinking of her just a moment before, he wouldn't have recognized that voice. It had seemed so impossible, so implausible, that she should be here. Even when darkness was lifted from his eyes and he saw her face bending over him in the lamplight, he still couldn't believe it.

He'd been anxious that she would not want to see him. When she ran off, leaving him with the other nurse, the one with the blonde hair pulled back into a severe bun under her white cap, he'd wanted to cry out, to stop her from leaving. She had left him once before, and he felt he would die if he let her leave again. But he couldn't find his voice, couldn't move. And when she came back, she remained brusque, as though she was angry. He couldn't blame her. She probably wanted nothing to do with him. But her hands were gentle as they moved over his wounds, and Leonard had allowed himself a sliver of hope.

His cheeks burned when he realized he was lying bare in front of her, with only a blanket covering his middle. If it didn't hurt so much, he would have laughed, too, laughed at himself for still feeling shy with her, after all that they had been through together.

She was coming back now, holding a small photograph, which she gave to Leonard. The photograph showed a child, a boy, about six or seven, wearing a sailor suit, with soft dark curls falling over his forehead. There was something vaguely familiar in the serious expression with which he was looking at the camera. Leonard thought perhaps it resembled Helen's, but he couldn't be sure.

"I should've stayed with him," Helen said, "but I couldn't stand by and do nothing while all this war effort is going on, so he's with Meg and Tibby at Howards End. His name is Leopold," she added, her voice slightly breathless. "I call him Leo."

"I don't understand," Leonard said. Was she trying to tell her that she was married? He glanced at her empty fingers, which told him nothing—nurses probably had to keep their hands empty and clean at all times. He tried handing the photograph back to her. She didn't take it.

"He's your son, Leonard," she said. "Our son."

Leonard lifted startled eyes to her face. She nodded, once. He looked at the photograph again. Yes, he saw it now. The familiar expression, which he'd thought to be Helen's, was his own. Those rounded, solemn eyes were his own.

Suddenly the irons came back, all sharp-edged and burning, as though Oniton had only been the night before. In the child, he saw all the pains, the fears she had gone through—that he had put her through. This was the real reason she stayed away, the reason she couldn't come home. His fault, his, his. The blanket, the lamp, the tent, Helen's eyes, they were all bearing down on him, crushing him. He couldn't breathe. He struggled weakly against the bedclothes, trying to get away from Helen, but his treacherous body refused to move.

Then he felt her hands on his shoulders, gently but firmly pushing him back down, and heard her voice by his ear. "Leonard, calm yourself," she was saying. "You didn't do anything wrong. I do not blame you. I am not angry. Please, calm down before you tear open these wounds again."

His desperate eyes searched for Helen's face. She was smiling at him, a small, tentative smile, fighting off the tears that were threatening to fall down her cheeks. At that smile, the scorching inside him cooled, and he breathed again, slowly.

"Miss Schlegel—" he began, once the thudding of his heart subsided.

"Helen, please," she said, her hands moving down his shoulders to clasp around his wrists.  

"Helen." He savored her name on his tongue, and it was so sweet that he had to say it again. "I looked for you, Helen. After—Oniton. I looked for you. I wanted to—to apologize—"

"There was nothing to apologize for."

"I went to Wickham Place, but you were gone. I was afraid you had to move because of me. Then I found your sister, and she told me you were in Germany. And I believed that I drove you away, that you didn't want to see me again—" He was rambling now, his tongue and mind and heart loosened by the morphine, or perhaps by Helen's smile and the solemn eyes of the boy in the photograph, and all the memories he'd buried away came rushing forth like a flood.

"There was a time when I never wanted to see you again," she said. "I know it sounds appalling, but for the longest time, I didn't want to see you. I just wanted to put the whole thing behind me." She looked away for a moment. Leonard thought he could see the pain of those early days in her eyes, but what he felt now wasn't guilt. For the first time since arriving in Belgium, he wished to live. To live, so he could make it up for her, for their son, and perhaps for himself as well. Helen was looking at him again, her eyes brightening. "But then Leo was born," she said. "And from the moment I held him, I've loved him so much that nothing else mattered anymore."

He wanted to ask if she ever loved him. No, now was not the time.

"What is he like?" He couldn't speak the boy's name, not yet.

A tender smile crossed Helen's face. "He's the sweetest. Rather serious for his age. Meg calls him an old soul. He reminds me of you sometimes." She squeezed his hand. "You'll see for yourself, when you go back to England."

England. It had seemed so inconceivable just that morning, yet it was frightfully tangible now. Hope pierced Leonard's heart like barbed wire. "But—"

"I'm not asking anything of you, Leonard. Just that you meet him. If you want."

"I do." As he said it, Leonard knew it was true. He'd thought he had no one, nothing left in England. But now he had something. And when he saw Helen's smile and the tears in her eyes as she looked at him, and felt her hand in his, he realized he had something here as well, a spot of light in this place of mud and death and madness.

Another wave of morphine crashed over him, but Leonard fought against it, not wanting to drown in it just yet. This miracle, this blessing was too precious, he didn't want to waste it in sleep.

 "I still don't believe you're really here," he murmured. "I was just thinking about you, right before I went under."

"Were you?"

"They were playing Beethoven's Fifth in the dugout. It reminded me of Prince Regent's Hall, of the day we met. Do you remember?"

A shy smile tugged at the corner of Helen's lips. "You still have some mud on your face," she said. She took the sponge and wiped away the mud. Her hand, whether by accident or on purpose, brushed across Leonard's lips. He managed to raise his arm, took that hand, and pressed her palm to his mouth. She didn't pull away.

The blonde nurse came back. A part of Leonard wished she would go away, and another part wished he could share their joy with her, with anyone. "You should get some rest, Helen," she said. "I can stay with him if necessary."

Helen squeezed Leonard's hand more tightly. "No, I'm all right," she answered, without taking her eyes off him.

The other nurse retreated. Helen lifted Leonard's hand, the one still holding on to hers, and kissed his knuckles. There was a moment of hesitation, and then, leaning down, she kissed his lips as well, tender and careful, so different from her fumbling, frenzied kisses that night so long ago.

"Sleep now," she whispered.

"Stay with me?" he asked, though he was already drifting off.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said, and, like a gesture of promise, took his hand again and laced her fingers through his.

Holding on to that hand, Leonard let out a deep sigh, and slept. While the rain and the thunder of shellfire continued outside, he slept and dreamed of their son, of England, and of home. Helen he didn't have to dream about, for she was there with him, and was going to be there when he woke up.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away, A pulse in the eternal mind, no less Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given; Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day; And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness, In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

THE END

A/N: Leonard is probably my favorite JQ character (after Eddie), and yet I struggled for the longest time to write something for him, probably because a) I'm too familiar with the source material and its other adaptation (the 1992 movie) and b) Leonard's story is rather finite and I couldn't figure out how to fix it in a way that makes sense to me. It wasn't until I reread "A Room with a View" and learned that Forster had written an epilogue/alternate ending that took place during World War I and II that I came up with the idea of doing something similar for poor Leonard. I totally ripped off a scene in A.S. Byatt's "The Children's Book" for this, btw.

The title is taken from Rupert Brooke's "The Beginning". The poem quoted in the opening and the end is "The Soldier", also by Rupert Brooke.

Thank you for reading!

[franzkafkagf]

RHAENYRA AND AEGON; SIBLINGS AS MORTAL ENEMIES

unknown, house of the dragon, ethel cain, george r. r. martin, natalie diaz, leonard cohen, julio cortázar, sophocles, helen oyeyemi, genesis

[obsidianstrawberrymilk]

eyy, same on the bi viktor hc and shipping helen and vik 🤝

i spef hc viktor as having not figured out being bi yet, as of current canon, but after taking time to settle into realizing he’s trans he realizes his feelings towards dudes isn’t just gender envy and he’s like holy shit, and has a bit of a crisis. spef hc that sexuality crisis occurs between the end of s3 and the probably inevitable s4 timeskip we’ll have thx to elliot’s voice being deeper during filming. the vik realizing he’s bi is probably be more then a bit complicated thx to his trauma w leonard 😔😔

imo 1) s1 viktor defo had a bit of a crush on helen 2) people take helen’s words way more harsh then they were actually meant, like i think she was probably a bit frustrated, bc viktor had been in third chair for years and the being late thing seemed like a somewhat regular occurrence, but while she’s a bit frustrated, she said the stuff she did outta tough love type thing/she)s one of those people who believes that being blunt helps people more often then not

all this partially just to say i think viktor and helen as a rivals to lover’s relationship would probably be more rivalry on viktor’s part then helen’s. there’d be mutual rivalryship, yes, but viktor would care about the rivalry a lot more then helen would which i think is absolutely hillarious

i like imagining and hoping (tho it’s obv unlikely) that viktor meets helen again in s4, bc they’re just cute

Okay yesss to all of this!! I doubt Viktor’s gonna meet Helen again in S4 but I REALLY WANT HIM TO bc it could show just how much he’s grown from S1. I feel like Helen was trying to give an honest critique ngl - we KNOW Viktor had been trying for other positions than third chair, so imo she was trying to give some honest advice that just came off as kinda rude.

So Viktor meeting her again and having that passion she said he lacked now that he’s off his pills would be so cool imo!!

Lmao yeah, I meant ‘enemies to lovers’ in the ‘got off on the wrong foot, single sided rivalry, oh shit they’re hot’ kind of way. I could absolutely see Viktor having a single sided rivalry with Helen - hey, Luther and Diego got a rivalry so now it’s his turn!

...And if that eventually turns into a romantic violin contest that ends w them leaning into each other and staring into each other’s eyes, who’s gonna tell?

I also 100% agree w you that he hasn’t figured out he’s bi yet. I feel like what happened with Leonard would make him a bit anxious to date men for a while tbh, so it would be difficult for him to figure it out. I really hope we can see canon bi Viktor in S4 (but then that’s what I said about bi Diego in S3 so ahaha), and I hope they like... actually address the trauma that leonard caused?? Bc it feels like they kinda ignored that for the past two seasons.

[femmehysteria]

Best Character Named X Poll

FOLLOW @best-character-named-x-poll

I'm doing a series of "Best Character Named X" polls where all the characters have the same first name but are from completely different media, feel free to send in name/charcacter suggestions, I'm posting one poll a day. New polls scheduled for 1:30PM GMT everyday.

ask box closed for now

WILL BE POSTING POLLS ON @best-character-named-x-poll FROM FEB 1ST

If your favourite character is not included in the poll very sorry i have either never heard of them or actively chose not to include them as theres only 6 characters per poll. Characters will only count of that is their first name, surnames do not count.

Round 85: David

Round 86: Tiffany

Round 87: Charlie

Round 88: Sandy

Round 89: Cody

Round 90: Amanda

Round 91: Jeremy

Past Polls and Poll Ideas under the cut

Names that I have a complete list for*

Caroline, Tyler, Louis, Leonard, Rebecca, Steve, Nicole, Isabelle, Victoria, Katherine, Jade, Alex, Sophie, Greg, Jake, Ellie, Isaac, Robin, Tony, Annie, Lisa, Margaret, Oliver, Clark, Kara, Phoebe, Emma, Ruby, Bart, Alfie, Beth, Julian, Nancy, Penny, Margaret, Tessa, Erica, Theresa, George, Kevin, Sebastian, Felix, Martin, Michael, Erin, Caleb, Helen, Charlotte, Kyle, Martha, Diana, Elsa, Gary, Zoe, Connor, Colin, Daisy, Eric, Maya, Adam, Andy, Magnus, Alma, Nora, Alice, Spike, Leon, Marcel, Kim, Juno, Sue, Chris, Otto, Donald, Daphne, Kate, Todd, Ned, Ken, Angel, Judy, Jo, Hazel, Naomi, Diego, Miranda, Joel, Lila, Duncan, Dexter, Meredith, Pearl, Lily, Malcolm, Napolean, Joan, Nico, Jamie, Nadia, Velma, Jill, Kiera, Rory, Evan, Tam, Klaus, Neil, Derek, Michelle, Luna, Laila, Cordelia, Zack, Imogen, Felicity, Cindy, Alicia, Kelly, Alan, April, Astrid, Delilah, Jodie, Claudia, Juliet, Karen, Jonas, Milo, Celia, Hannah, Joy, Ethan, Katya, Aria, Atticus, Ian, Cynthia, Faye, Frank, Boo, River, Corey, Gabrielle, Minerva, Ebony, Zia, Beverly, Rudy, Georgina

Names I have an incomplete list for (welcome to send character suggestions)

Richter, Sean, Troy, Cain, Agatha, Warren, Percy, Reggie, Mina, Ryan, Felicia, Dylan, Josh, Shirley, Debbie, Jared, June, Mabel, Ray, Chad, Moe, Hugh, Fearne, Christine, Joe, August, May, Scarlet, Alana, Leela, Manny, Dean, Francis, Mason, Oscar, Quinn, Guy, Ulrich, Wally, Yasmin, Tobias, Woody, Sabrina, Quentin, Margot, Alina, Matilda, Freya, Kendra, Angus, Ophelia, Leisel, Zelda, Adora, Piper, Scarlet, Sheila, Valentine, Laurie, Laurel, Fitz, Violet, Gabriel, Ford, Artemis, Owen, Bianca, Newton, Summer, Darcy, Noah, Taylor, Miriam, Hugh, Aurora, Hank, Henry, Dawn, Delia, Cosmo, Wanda, Zeke, Cecil, Aiden, Calvin, Ayesha, Beatrice, Parker, Chase, Hunter, Tina, Misty, Amaya, Amara, Harvey, Talia, Tatiana, Tanya, Orion, Eugene, Kit, Bo, Duke, Blue, Cameron, Rudolf, Mara, Marianne, Carl

Feel free to send more suggestions

*subject to change, you can still submit a character if there is no strikethrough if you think theres a character that its an absolute crime i dont add. Please don't suggest anything for the names with a strikethrough as they are polls that are already in my queue waiting to be published.

Past Polls

Round 1: Peter : WINNER: Peter Parker (Spider-Man)

Round 2: Elizabeth : WINNER: Elizabeth Swann (Pirates of the Caribbean)

Round 3: Jason : WINNER: Jason Mendoza (The Good Place)

Round 4: Eve : WINNER: EVE (WALL-E)

Round 5: Fred : WINNER: Fred Jones (Scooby-Doo)

Round 6: Rachel : WINNER: Rachel (Animorphs)

Round 7: Arthur : WINNER: Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Round 8: Amy : WINNER: Amy Pond (Doctor Who)

Round 9: Tom : WINNER: Tom (Tom and Jerry)

Round 10: Claire : WINNER: Clare Devlin (Derry Girls)

Round 11: James : WINNER: James (Pokemon)

Round 12: Max : WINNER: Max (Black Sails)

Round 13: Simon : WINNER: Simon Belmont (Castlevania)

Round 14: Jane : WINNER: Jane Crocker (Homestuck)

Round 15: Victor : WINNER: Victor Nikiforov (Yuri On Ice)

Round 16: Mary : WINNER: Mary Poppins (Mary Poppins)

Round 17: Will : WINNER: Will Graham (Hannibal)

Round 18: Laura : WINNER: Laura Palmer (Twin Peaks)

Round 19: Ben : WINNER: Ben "Obi-Wan" Kenobi (Star Wars)

Round 20: Chloe : WINNER: Chloe Price (Life Is Strange)

Round 21: John : WINNER: Jonathan Sims (The Magnus Archives)

Round 22: Lydia : WINNER: Lydia Deetz (Beetlejuice)

Round 23: Mark : WINNER: Marc Spector (Moon Knight)

Round 24: Jess : WINNER: Jesse Pinkman (Breaking Bad)

Round 25: Theo : WINNER: Theobald Gumbar (Dimension 20: A Crown Of Candy)

Round 26: Sarah: WINNER: Sarah Jane Smith (Doctor Who)

Round 27: Richard : WINNER: Richard Gansey III (The Raven Cycle)

Round 28: Cass : WINNER: Cassandra Cain (Batman)

Round 29: Edward : WINNER: Edward Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Round 30: Carm : WINNER: Carmen Sandiego (Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?)

Round 31: Hal : WINNER: HAL9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey)

Round 32: Sid : WINNER: Sydney Adamu (The Bear)

Round 33: Jack : WINNER: Captain Jack Harkness (Doctor Who)

Round 34: Stephanie : WINNER: Stephanie Brown (Batman)

Round 35: Ash : WINNER: Ash Ketchum (Pokemon)

Round 36: Veronica : WINNER: Veronica Sawyer (Heathers)

Round 37: Kurt : WINNER: Kurt Wagner aka Nightcrawler (X-Men)

Round 38: Eleanor : WINNER: Eleanor Shellstrop (The Good Place)

Round 39: Nathan : WINNER: Nathan Young (Misfits)

Round 40: Fiona : WINNER: Princess Fiona (Shrek)

Round 41: Gale : WINNER: Gayle Waters-Waters (Chris Fleming)

Round 42: Barbara : WINNER: Barbara Millicent Roberts aka Barbie (Barbie)

Round 43: Sam : WINNER: Samwise Gamgee (Lord of the Rings)

Round 44: Grace : WINNER: Grace Chastity (Nerdy Prudes Must Die)

Round 45: Barry : WINNER: Barry Bluejeans (The Adventure Zone)

Round 46: Raven : WINNER: Raven (Teen Titans)

Round 47: Dan : WINNER: Danny Fenton (Danny Phantom)

Round 48: Mia : WINNER: Mia Fey (Ace Attorney)

Round 49: Matt : WINNER: Matt Murdock (Daredevil)

Round 50: Rose : WINNER: Rose Tyler (Doctor Who)

Round 51: Robert : WINNER: Robbie Rotten (LazyTown)

Round 52: Lola : WINNER: Lola Bunny (Space Jam)

Round 53: Scott : WINNER: Scott Summers aka Cyclops (X-Men)

Round 54: Olivia : WINNER: Olivia Octavious (Spiderverse)

Round 55: Finn : WINNER: Finn the Human (Adventure Time)

Round 56: Emily : WINNER: Emily Charlton (The Devil Wears Prada)

Round 57: Elliot : WINNER: Eliot Spencer (Leverage)

Round 58: Sonia : WINNER: Sonia (Pokemon)

Round 59: Gideon : WINNER: Gideon Nav (The Locked Tomb)

Round 60: Jen : WINNER: Jennifer Check (Jennifer's Body)

Round 61: Miles : WINNER: Miles Morales (Spider-Man)

Round 62: Lana : WINNER: Lana Skye (Ace Attorney)

Round 63: Spencer : WINNER: Spencer Shay (iCarly)

Round 64: Tracy : WINNER: Tracy Turnbald (Hairspray!)

Round 65: Luke : WINNER: Luke Skywalker (Star Wars)

Round 66: Natalie : WINNER: Natalie Scatorccio (Yellowjackets)

Round 67: Harry : WINNER: Harry Du Bois (Disco Elysium)

Round 68: Lucy : WINNER: Lucy van Pelt (Peanuts)

Round 69: Damian : WINNER: Damian Wayne (Batman)

Round 70: Tabitha : WINNER: Tabitha Casper (Dan and Phil Games: Sims 4)

Round 71: Nick : WINNER: Nicholas D. Wolfwood (Trigun)

Round 72: Gwen : WINNER: Guinevere (Merlin)

Round 73: Paul : WINNER: Paulette Bonafonte (Legally Blonde)

Round 74: Abigail : WINNER: Abigail Hobbs (Hannibal)

Round 75: Jordan : WINNER: Jordan Baker (The Great Gatsby)

Round 76: Donna : WINNER: Donna Noble (Doctor Who)

Round 77: Morgan : WINNER: Morgana (Merlin)

Round 78: Allison : WINNER: Alison Cooper (BBC Ghosts)

Round 79: Patrick : WINNER: Patrick Star (Spongebob Squarepants)

Round 80: Linda : WINNER: Linda Belcher (Bob's Burgers)

Round 81: Philip : WINNER: Philip J. Fry (Futurama)

Round 82: Clarisse : WINNER: Clarisse La Rue (Percy Jackson)

Round 83: Jeff

Round 84: Maria

[fragbot]

Sappho implies that the invincible power of love took Anactoria away from her just as Aphrodite took Helen away from Menelaus. On this level, the emphasis on Menelaus' worth gets a bitter tone: Anactoria left Sappho, although Sappho considers herself worthy of her love.

- from "Shifting Helen: An Interpretation of Sappho, Fragment 16 (Voigt)," Ilja Leonard Pfeijffer (x)

[lands-of-fantasy]

Pride and Prejudice

Classic and loose adaptions from 1940, 1967, 1980, 1995, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2012, 2016, 2018, 2019

The second of Jane Austen’s novels, first published in 1813, is the most often adapted, inspiring various different takes on it. The ones pictures above are detailed below:

Pride and Prejudice (1940 Film)

This black and white film departs from the original novel in some (or should I say many?) points

Written by Aldous Huxley and Jane Murfin, adapted from the stage adaptation by Helen Jerome; directed by Robert Z. Leonard

Starring Greer Garson as Elizabeth Bennet, Laurence Olivier as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Edward Ashley Cooper as George Wickham, Maureen O'Sullivan as Jane Bennet, Bruce Lester as Mr. Charles Bingley, Ann Rutherford as Lydia Bennet, Melville Cooper as Mr. William Collins, among others.

Pride and Prejudice (1967 Miniseries)

6 episodes x 24min. Black and White footage Written by Nemone Lethbridge, directed by Joan Craft

Starring Celia Bannerman as Elizabeth Bennet, Lewis Fiander as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Richard Hampton as George Wickham, Polly Adams as Jane Bennet, David Savile as Mr. Charles Bingley, Lucy Fleming as Lydia Bennet, Julian Curry as Mr. William Collins, among others.

Pride and Prejudice (1980 Miniseries)

5 episodes x 54 min Written by Fay Weldon, directed by Cyril Coke

Starring Elizabeth Garvie as Elizabeth Bennet, David Rintoul as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Peter Settelen as George Wickham, Sabina Franklyn as Jane Bennet, Osmund Bullock as Mr. Charles Bingley, Natalie Ogle as Lydia Bennet, Malcolm Rennie as Mr. William Collins, among others.

Pride and Prejudice (1995 Miniseries)

6 episodes x 54 min Written by Andrew Davies, directed by Simon Langton

Starring Jennifer Ehle as Elizabeth Bennet, Colin Firth as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Adrian Lukis as George Wickham, Susannah Harker as Jane Bennet, Crispin Bonham-Carter as Mr. Charles Bingley, Julia Sawalha as Lydia Bennet, David Bamber as Mr. William Collins, among others.

Pride and Prejudice (2003 Indie Film)

Loose adaption set in modern Utah, USA Written by Anne Black, Jason Faller, Katherine Swigert; directed by Andrew Black

Starring Kam Heskin as Elizabeth Bennet, Orlando Seale as Will Darcy, Henry Maguire as Jack Wickham, Lucila Sola as Jane Vasquez, Ben Gourley as Charles Bingley, Kelly Stables as Lydia Meryton, Hubbel Palmer as William Collins, among others.

Bride and Prejudice (2004 Film)

Bollywood-style Musical. Loose adaption set in modern India and England. Written by Paul Mayeda Berges, Gurinder Chadha; directed by Gurinder Chadha

Starring Aishwarya Rai as Lalita Bakshi (Elizabeth), Martin Henderson as William "Will" Darcy,  Daniel Gillies as Johnny Wickham, Namrata Shirodkar as Jaya Bakshi (Jane), Naveen Andrews as Mr Balraj Uppal (Bingley), Peeya Rai Chowdhary as Lakhi Bakshi (Lydia), Nitin Ganatra as Kohli Saab (Collins), among others.

Pride and Prejudice (2005 Film)

Written by Deborah Moggach, directed by Joe Wright

Starring Keira Knightley as Elizabeth Bennet, Matthew Macfadyen as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Rupert Friend as George Wickham, Rosamund Pike as Jane Bennet, Simon Woods as Mr. Charles Bingley, Jena Malone as Lydia Bennet, Claudie Blakley as Charlotte Lucas, Tom Hollander as Mr. Collins, Donald Sutherland as Mr. Bennet, Judi Dench as Lady Catherine de Bourgh, among others.

The Lizzie Bennet Diaries (2012–13 Webseries)

160 episodes x 2-8 min, available on Youtube Loose adaption set in modern US, told in a vlog format

Created by Hank Green and Bernie Su, from Pemberley Digital

Starring Ashley Clements as Elizabeth Bennet, Daniel Vincent Gordh as William Darcy, Wes Aderhold as George Wickham, Laura Spencer as Jane Bennet, Christopher Sean as Bing Lee, Mary Kate Wiles as Lydia Bennet, Julia Cho as Charlotte Lu, Maxwell Glick as Ricky Collins, among others.

Lizzie’s videos amount to 100 episodes + 10 Q&A, but shorter series enrich the story by offering other characters’ perspectives, most notably Lydia’s (and also Georgiana’s). A playlist at Pemberley Digital’s Youtube channel features them all in order.

The series has also been adapted into a book, The Secret Diary of Lizzie Bennet (2014), and spawned a sequel novel, The Epic Adventures of Lydia Bennet (2015).

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (2016 Film)

Loose adaption inspired by the 2009 novel of the same name by Seth Grahame-Smith, which adds zombies to Austen’s original story. The movie makes alterations from the zombie book as well.

Written and directed by Burr Steers

Starring Lily James as Elizabeth Bennet, Sam Riley as Colonel Fitzwilliam Darcy, Jack Huston as George Wickham, Bella Heathcote as Jane Bennet, Douglas Booth as Mr. Charles Bingley, Ellie Bamber as Lydia Bennet, Matt Smith as Parson William Collins, among others.

Orgulho e Paixão (Pride and Passion) (2018 Telenovela)

Brazilian telenovela in Brazilian-Portuguese

162 episodes x 30-40min (original version) Loose adaption set in 1910s São Paulo state, Brazil

Created by Marcos Bernstein, directed by Fred Mayrink

Starring Nathalia Dill as Elisabeta Benetido, Thiago Lacerda as Sr. Darcy Williamson, Pâmela Tomé as Jane Benedito, Maurício Destri as Camilo Bittencourt (Bingley), Bruna Giphao as Lídia Benedito, Bruno Gissoni as Diogo Uirapuru (Wickham/Willoughby), among others.

The story takes inspiration from all 6 of Austen’s major novels (plus Lady Susan), but mostly from Pride and Prejudice. Others stars include Chandelly Braz as Mariana Benedito (Marianne Dashwood) and Anajú Dorigon as Cecília Benedito (Catherine Morland).

Features 100 episodes in the International cut. The telenovela has been broadcast in other countries and languages (such as Spanish) but as far as I know, not in English.

Pride and Prejudice: Atlanta (2019 TV Film)

Loose adaption set in modern Atlanta, USA. All-black cast. Written by Tracy McMillan, directed by Rhonda Baraka

Starring Tiffany Hines as Elizabeth Bennet, Juan Antonio as Will Darcy, Raney Branch as Jane Bennet, Brad James as Charles Bingley, Reginae Carter as Lydia Bennet, Carl Anthony Payne as Rev. Collins, among others.

*****

Personal favorites: 2005, then 1995. But also: The Lizzie Bennet Diaries, Orgulho e Paixão

I also enjoyed Atlanta and, while it’s been a while since I’ve seen Bride and Prejudice, it’s got Indian musical numbers so c’mon, one gotta watch it.

Back to the closer adaptions, despite its age, 1980 is also good! 1940 is...very different, but fun in its own way.

In fact, while I find some of these versions weaker, I could find enjoyment in all of them - but maybe that’s cause I’m a sucker for P&P.

[andrasta14]

So the cover of my book journal has me feeling like uncultured swine again, because all the book titles on it are famous couples/duos in literature, tv shows and movies etc and at least half of them have me like: ?????

I'm enough of a nerd to want to know where they're all from, and it's been bugging me for years. But Googling them feels somehow unsporting to me. lol (Plus I think some of the spellings are French?)

So...see a pair you recognize? Let me know. 🙏

~ Couples Listed ~

Fanfan & Alexandre = ???

Lana & Clark = Superman

Paul & Joanne = ???

Andromacue & Hector = The Iliad/Greek Mythology

Leonard & Salaì = ???

Orpheus and Eurydice = Greek Mythology

Lisbeth & Miriam = ???

Mathilde & Manech = ???

Chimène & Rodrigue = ???

Emma & Dexter = ???

Yves & Pierre = Yves Saint-Laurent and Pierre Bergé

Arlequin & Columbine = ???

Julien & Mme de Rênal = The Scarlet and the Black

Edward & Vivian = ???

Edith and Marcel = ???

Marty & Jennifer = Back to the Future

Franck & Ava = ???

Jack & Rose = Titantic

Elisabeth & Richard = ???

Chouchou & Loulou = ??? (The hell kind of names are those? lol)

Roger & Jessica = ??? (Idk the first thing that jumped to mind was Roger & Jessica Rabbit lol)

Figaro & Rosine = The Marriage of Figaro

Christian & Anastasia = 50 Shades of Grey

Leeloo & Korhen = ???

Abelard & Héloïse = medieval historical romance, unsure of details

Valmont & Cecile = Dangerous Liaisons

Sam & Molly = ???

Gaston & Melle Jeanne = ???

Drazic & Anita = ???

Don Juan & Charlotte = Don Juan/Don Giovanni

Mike & Susan = Desperate Housewives

Helen & Paris = The Iliad/Greek Mythology

Quasimodo & Esmeralda = The Hunchback of Notre-Dame

Rachel & Ross = Friends

Marilyn & John = Marilyn Munroe and John F. Kennedy?

Satine & Christian = Moulin Rouge

Dorian & Henri = The Portrait of Dorian Gray

Tarzan & Jane = Tarzan

Edward & Bella = Twilight

Nino & Amélie = Amélie

Mulder & Scully = The X-Files

Arthur & Paul = Arthur Rimbaud and Paul Verlaine

Harry & Sally = When Harry Met Sally

Sandy & Danny = Grease

Benny & Joon = Benny & Joon

Toi & Moi = ???

Maverick & Charlie = Top Gun

Candy & Anthony = ???

Odysseus & Penelope = The Odyssey/The Iliad/Greek Mythology

Thelma & Louise = Thelma & Louise

Titus & Berenice = Titus and Berenice is a 1676 tragedy by Thomas Otway.

Ariane & Solal = ???

Paul & Virginie = Paul and Virginie by Jacques-Henri Bernardin de Saint-Pierre (1788).

Johnny & BB = ???

Cyrano & Roxane = Cyrano de Bergerac

Marius & Fanny = ???

Chloe & Colin = ???

Adam & Eve = The Bible

Tristan & Iseult = Tristan and Isolde

Bonnie & Clyde = the historical Bonnie & Clyde

Popeye & Olive = Popeye the Sailor Man

Simone & Yves = ???

Buffy & Angel = Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Lauren & Humphrey = Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart?

Carrie and Mr Big = Sex in the City

Harry & Ginny = Harry Potter series

Clarence & Alabama = ???

Alceste & Célimène = ???

Lancelot & Guinevere = Arthurian legend

~*~

Edit:

From @theduchessofboredom

#arthur & paul could be art (arthur) garfunkel and paul simon #paul & virginie is the title of a famous 18th century novel #nino and amélie is definitely Amélie :) #yves & pierre are yves saint-laurent and pierre bergé

From @that-laj

Marty & Jennifer are from Back to the Future, if they’re the Marty and Jennifer I think they are.

@didoscity

Mike and susan are from desperate housewives (embarassed to know this). Also arthur and paul are definitely, to me, arthur rimbaud and paul verlaine. sorry for simon and garfunkel 😂

oh and titus and berenice is the name of a tragedy by corneille!

[drarreckyninja]

belated: drarreckyninja’s top 50 ships of Aug 2022 [8. Shelnard]

Fandom(s): The Big Bang Theory

Pairing: Sheldon Cooper x Leonard Hofstadter

Image:

Where u from? Texas || New Jersey

Families (my AU):

Sheldon: Mary (mom), Rob (stepdad), Georgie (older brother), Missy (younger twin sister), Connie (meemaw)

Leonard: Beverly (mom, psychiatrist), Helen (older sister), Michael (younger brother)

Subship(s): Howraj (Howard x Raj); Pamy (Penny x Amy)

[collectionbrunogrenier]

Raymonde April

Les petites tomates Épreuve argentique 30 x 44 cm Née au Nouveau-Brunswick en 1953, Raymonde April est l’une des plus importantes photographes de l’histoire du Québec. Depuis sa première exposition individuelle en 1977, à la galerie Powerhouse de Montréal, les expositions se multiplient, tant au Québec qu’en Europe. La liste des expositions impressionne, tant par le prestige des lieux que par leur diversité géographique. On la retrouve en 1986 au Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal et à la Coburg Gallery de Vancouver, à la Galerie Colbert de la Bibliothèque nationale de Paris (1989), à la Fundaciô La Caixa de Tarragone de Barcelone (1992), au Musée Arthur Rimbaud de Charleville-Mézières en France, également en 1992, au Musée d’art de Joliette (1997), à la Morris and Helen Belkin Art Gallery de Vancouver (1998), à la Galerie d’art Leonard et Bina Ellen de l’Université Concordia à Montréal (2001) et à la Manif d’art de Québec (2005).  Ses œuvres sont aujourd’hui présentes dans plusieurs collections publiques importantes, telles que le Musée des beaux-arts de Montréal, le Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal, la Banque d’œuvres d’art du Conseil des arts du Canada, le Musée canadien de la photographie contemporaine à Ottawa, la Bibliothèque nationale de Paris et le Musée national des beaux-arts du Québec. April est lauréate du prix Paul-Émile Borduas (2003), la plus prestigieuse distinction en arts visuels au Québec, du Paul de Hueck and Norman Walford Career Achievement Award for Art Photography (2005) et de l’Ordre du Canada (2010). 

Prix : 875 $ 

[highasaklaus]

honestly i thought Helen, the first chair violinist, would be Vanya’s love interest if anyone,,..... like,,,,,,, i can’t be the only one c’mon

[foundtherightwords]

(most of my fics are CC x OFC unless otherwise stated)

Tom Grant (Make Up)

Winter Light (AO3): angst, slow burn, sickfic, post-canon, non-explicit smut | 5 chapters + optional epilogue, 14.8k

Arthur Havisham (Dickensian)

The Road Forgotten (AO3): angst, slow burn, fix-it, post-canon, revenge, non-explicit smut | 14 chapters, 42.7k

Irresistibly Contagious (AO3): sequel to "The Road Forgotten", Christmas fic, fluff, found family | One-shot, 7k

Billy Knight (Lethal White/Strike)

The Quiet Chaos (AO3): angst, slow burn, developing relationship, post-canon, non-explicit smut | 10 chapters, 36.2K

The Simple Thought of You (AO3): sequel to "The Quiet Chaos", angst, childfree, proposal, non-explicit smut | 3 chapters, 9.2k

Ralph (Timewasters)

All Our Yesterdays (AO3): friends-to-lovers, slow burn, a bit of angst, time travel, post-canon, non-explicit smut | 14 chapters, 53.8k

Come, You Spirits (AO3): sort-of-sequel to "All Our Yesterdays", fluff, funny, spooky, established relationship | One-shot, 4.6k

Time Out in the Upside Down (AO3): "Stranger Things" x "Timewasters" crossover, funny | One-shot, 1.8k

Leonard Bast (Howards End)

Through the World's Far Ends (AO3): Leonard x Helen fix-it, World War I, angst, hurt/comfort | One-shot, 7.2k

Prince Paul (Catherine the Great)

The Firebird (AO3): fairytale AU, magic, adventure, slow burn, non-explicit smut | 16 chapters, 66.7k

Michael (Hoard)

Love, If You're Near (AO3): angst, hurt/comfort | One-shot, 6.8k

Derwin Grunauer (Overlord)

As the Sun Will Rise (WIP): post-WWII, Beauty and the Beast retelling | 21 chapters, ~82k

Hellcheer Masterlist

[lathalea]

For Better and For Worse

Good morning, how about a little fic for the Armitage Summer Splash event?

WEEK 1 - PROMPT 7

Trope: Soulmates Quote: “I’ve never loved you.”

Relationships: Raymond de Merville x OC Rating: G

You can find this fic on AO3.

Helene heard the sound of heavy footsteps and quickly glanced through the window. It was a foggy evening, but she noticed a tall silhouette walking along the castle rampart. A guard, she thought, observing his cloak fluttering behind him. She returned to her chair by the fireplace and resumed combing her hair. Tomorrow was a big day. Her stomach clenched.

“I hear congratulations are in order, lady Helene, since you are to wed Leonard do Poissy,” a man’s low growl startled her. She could not believe her ears, but she would recognize this voice everywhere.

“Raymond? God be praised! You are alive!” she approached him, wanting to throw her arms around her longed-for knight, but he took a step back towards the door.

He was even more strapping than she remembered. Scars marked his handsome face, his beard was thick and unruly, but it was Raymond, her Raymond, the one Helene gave her heart to before he rode off to fight in the Holy Land. The one who swore on his love to her that when he returned, they would always be together. 

More than twelve years passed since they saw each other last, but every single morning she prayed and hoped for Raymond’s safe return, counting the days until she would become his wife. And now he was there. One day before her wedding to another man.

“When have you come back?” Helene stopped in her tracks. Her voice trembled slightly.

“Now,” his voice was like a distant rumble of thunder.  “Worry not, my lady, I am leaving at dawn.”

“What are you saying? You returned to me,” she whispered, trying to take his hand, but he avoided her touch. “I have been waiting for you for so long!”

“It amuses me how your waiting consisted of finding another husband for yourself!” He narrowed his ice-blue eyes.

“No, Raymond, you don’t understand! It is a match made by my grandfather, the duke. I had no say in this. But now that you are here, I will go and tell him about our agreement! He will have to listen to me.”

“Do not trouble yourself on my account, my lady. I came only to pay my respects and wish you good fortune in marriage,” Raymond said coldly, his eyes refusing to leave her face.

“I suspected that you were dead. But you are not! I do not wish to marry de Poissy. His age… he could be my grandfather. Can you not see? It is you I want, not him! I love you!” she pleaded, tears running down his cheeks.

“But I’ve never loved you.” Silence rang in Helene’s ears. An invisible spear pierced her chest.

“You… but we pledged our hearts to each other. We bound our souls together! Have you forgotten? Raymond?”

“Those pledges were worthless. Silly childish dreams, nothing more,” he spat.

“Why are you hurting me so? I do not believe even a single word you say!” Her lips trembled. “You should. De Poissy will be just the husband you need. His coffers are full of coin. In his manor, you will want for nothing. And if you are not matched by age? The better for you, my lady. In several years, you will become an affluent widow, free to do as you please,” he smirked haughtily.

“Is that the life you wish for me? A loveless marriage and then a lonely widowhood?” 

Raymond stayed silent, but his fingers tightened on the pommel of his sword. Helene stepped closer to him, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. She stood so close to him that her opulent gown would surely brush against the mud stains on his cloak and the road dirt on his tunic, but she did not care about it even a bit. Raymond was alive and so close that she could rest her cheek on his chest and listen to his steady heartbeat, like she used to.

“A comfortable life. Safety. A roof over your head. Can you not see, woman?! This is what truly matters, not some foolish promises made by infatuated youths!” he growled at her like a rabid dog.

“I don’t care about any of those things if I am not to spend my life with you!” Helene shouted, pressing her index finger into his chest.

“Do you not understand?! I cannot give you any of those things! I live in a tent, in faraway Ireland, under a rainy sky, surrounded by enemies. I have no coffers and most of my coin goes to the soldiers under my command. This is a dangerous land and not a place for a lady of your stature!” he snapped back at her.

“Then I will stop being one if that is what it takes to be with you!” She grasped the folds of his tunic. “I can sleep on cold forest ground every night as long as you are beside me!”

“What use would I have of you there?” His tone chilled her to the bone. “You do not know what you speak of. Do your grandfather’s bidding and marry your lord. You will thank me later, lady Helene.”

“Lena. Not ‘lady Helene’. That is what you used to call me. Lena,” she stifled a sob. “Or have you forgotten that too?” His strong hands grabbed her wrists, but she did not let go of him. She saw a familiar glint in his eyes.

“There is no point in recalling the past,” Raymond hissed. “You would do well thinking of your future instead!”

“I am, you insufferable man!” she rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his.

A groan rumbled somewhere deep in his chest and his hands travelled to her face, cupping it, and then he returned the kiss with equal intensity. The hungry flames of their kiss rose towards the ceiling, its heat reaching all the way to her core. He peppered every inch of her face with countless, minuscule kisses and pulled her close to his heart.

“My Lena. My sweet, sweet Lena. My heart,” Raymond murmured into her hair, his arms wrapped around her so tight that she could barely breathe. But at that very moment breathing seemed unimportant. She found her way to his heart again and nothing else mattered.

“Raymond…” she muttered into his tunic, clinging to him as if her life depended on it. And perhaps it did.

“I missed you, Lena. Day after day after day… And when I finally arrived here, every single person spoke about your wedding. I knew I was too late, but I had to see you one last time,” his embrace tightened around her. “But when I saw you, as beautiful as day, about to be wed to another man, I could not bear it…”

“You have always had a temper, my love,” she chuckled softly and looked into his beloved face. “I do not wish to be wed to any other man. Take me from here, Raymond. Make me your wife.”

“Is this what you truly desire? A life of hardships and danger in a land across the sea?” A frown graced his features.

“There is nothing else I want more. We are destined to be together. For better and for worse. I have lost you once and I do not intend to lose you again,” Helene stated firmly.

“I love you, sweet Lena,” he said a moment before their lips met again, leaving her breathless. 

“I never doubted it,” she sighed and kissed him again.

***

When the church bells rang at midnight, a local fishmonger looked out the window with a yawn. The moon shone high in the sky, adding a dreamlike quality to the landscape. A heavily built dun horse galloped along the highroad, heading north. The fishmonger shook his head. Knights and their fancies. He yawned again and decided to return to bed.

Little did he know that the steed carried a knight with the love of his life in his arms.

💙💙💙 Read it? Like it? Spread the love and reblog it! 💙💙💙

📜 Searching for more stories to read and more art to look at? 📜 📜Here is the masterlist for Week 1 for the Armitage Summer Splash event. 📜

General taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed): @fizzyxcustard @shrimpsthings​ @dark-angel-is-back @sherala007 @amelia307 @anyaspidergirl-blog @jotink78 @rachel1959 @saltwater-in-the-afternoon @linasofia @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @legolasbadass @yourqueenunderthemountain @reblogunderthemountain @guardianofrivendell @elrawienthewhite @xmly-xo @tschrist1 @nelleedraws @beenovel @vee-vee-writes @mcchiberry @dumbassunderthemountain @errruvande @laurfilijames @emrfangirl @s0ftd3m0n @lilith15000 @kami-chan1512 @ragsweas @enchantzz @aduialel @myselfandfantasy @thewhiteladyofrohan @elliepie1226 @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @blairsanne @fckmini @clumsy-wonderland @wormsmith @mailinsblogofstuff @medusas-hairband @xxbyimm @guylty

[astrognossienne]

What celebrities can you think of that have managed to develop their sun or reach its highest potential if that makes sense? Like how you said Betty White is one of the few developed Capricorns, do you think there are others who have done the same with their sign?

aries: lady gaga, kristen stewart, reese witherspoon, jennifer garner, selena, jessica chastain, bette davis, marvin gaye, gregory peck

taurus: malcolm x, audrey hepburn, george clooney, leonardo da vinci, elizabeth II, penelope cruz, cher, william shakespeare, daniel day-lewis, stevie wonder, orson welles, tchaikovsky, socrates, jimmy stewart, laurence olivier

gemini: lauryn hill, lenny kravitz, jfk, marilyn monroe, stevie nicks, johnny depp, prince, paul mccartney, naomi campbell, judy garland, jean-paul sartre, marquis de sade, michael j. fox, anne frank, miles davis, josephine baker

cancer: robin williams, princess diana, meryl streep, diahann carroll, prince william, elon musk, solange, dalai lama, nikola tesla, tom hanks, nelson mandela, angela merkel, mike tyson, alexander the great, frida kahlo, liv tyler, ernest hemingway, anthony bourdain, julius caesar, natalie wood, franz kafka, ringo starr, richard branson, malala yousafzai, debie harry, elizabeth warren, chris cornell, missy elliott, marcel proust, antoine de saint-exupery, cat stevens, helen keller, kawhi leonard, lena horne, michael phelps

leo: jackie kennedy, jennifer lopez, arnold schwarzenegger, robert de niro, coco chanel, kate bush, helen mirren

virgo: michael jackson, keanu reeves, mother theresa, karl lagerfeld, elizabeth I, jeremy irons, ray charles, mary shelley

libra: desmond tutu, rita hayworth, cardi b, brigitte bardot, gwen stefani, catherine deneuve, kim kardashian, oscar wilde, bruce springsteen, christopher reeve

scorpio: lisa bonet, grace kelly, vivien leigh,alain delon, pablo picasso, winona ryder, marie curie, hedy lamarr, rupaul, chloe sevigny, robert f. kennedy, carl sagan, sylvia plath, joni mitchell, anna wintour, albert camus

sagittarius: jimi hendrix, zoe kravitz, brad pitt, bruce lee, tina turner, frank sinatra, ludwig van beethoven, edith piaf, maria callas, jane birkin, adam clayton powell jr, marina abramovic, jane austen, gianni versace

capricorn: david bowie, aaliyah, betty white, dolly parton, mlk, ralph fiennes, michelle obama, francoise hardy, kate moss, sade, marlene dietrich, joan of arc, benjamin franklin

aquarius: abraham lincoln, jennifer aniston, shakira, mozart, oprah, megan thee stallion, paul newman, fdr, thomas edison, virginia woolf, kelly rowland, brandy, michael hutchence, peter gabriel, eddie van halen

pisces: sidney poitier, anais nin, albert einstein, kurt cobain, liz taylor, drew barrymore, juliette binoche, edgar cayce, jon bon jovi, johnny cash, chopin, michelangelo, nina simone, fred rogers, ruth bader ginsburg

[writing-fanics]

i feel a leonard bast x wilcox reader is in order. one where y/n leaves Howard’s End to get away from her family goes to her friend Helen Schlegel’s house.

Eventually, she meets Leonard Bast and the two seemingly develop a close friendship for one another.

(Jacky doesn’t exist in this one but Leonard is still struggling)

They begin to develop feelings for one another. It plays out pretty much like it does in the show.

After going into a deep conversation, they end up sleeping with each other. I feel she would wake up to find the bedside empty.

when we get to the ending of the show tho. He doesn’t have an undiagnosed heart condition, and when that bookcase falls on him.

He’s alright just knocked unconscious. I just think that this story would be so sweet. Leonard lives.

when he asks her in his dazed state why she chose him she just responds with ‘because I love you.’

Story has happy ending Y:n and Leonard happily married with their son.

[letterful]

professional vibe diagnosis: madi @dearorpheus 🖤

KEY TERMS: gothic heroines, final girls, bluebeard narratives, death & the maiden, monster theory, dangerous appetites, antiquarianism, sawbones & their history, perfumery, poison bottles, cursed jewels, blood vials, soft & warm light, morbidness & coziness intertwined, with more than a dash of elegance & sophisticated taste 🖤

media recommendations under the cut!

(a sidenote: i did not include a lot of obvious choices, such as angela carter or helene cixous or anne carson or any gothic 101 authors, since i know for a fact you’re already familiar with them. to be perfectly honest, you’re one of the most well-read people i’ve ever met, so i wouldn’t be surprised if you were already familiar with most of these, but i did my best!)

Severance: Stories, Robert Olen Butler—talking heads! literally!

Fairy Tales for the Disillusioned: Enchanted Stories from the French Decadent Tradition,

The Leopard by Giuseppe Tomasi Di Lampedusa (for some truly exquisite prose),

Imaginary Lives by Marcel Schwob (oh, Schwob is criminally underrated; also,  these tales remind me of early Borges)

Kieślowski films! La Double Vie de Véronique (1991), especially—this scene is... somewhat spoiler-y, but goodness. it is beautiful, in a grandiose way. also, can we talk about the lyrics of the featured piece? 

speaking of Polish movies: Cold War (2018) & Ida (2013) are also a must!

Arthur Machen’s short stories, and especially The Inmost Light,

M. R. James’ short stories, of course, but especially Count Magnus,

The Lottery and Other Stories by Shirley Jackson; the entire collection serves as one of my favourite retellings of the Daemon Lover ballad, although it’s not a very straightforward one—The Man in the Blue Suit (slash James Harris) is at most a peripheral figure, and his status as a supernatural entity is up in the air, since most of the stories are uncanny instead of explicitly supernatural (and yet, whenever he enters the stage, something shifts in the atmosphere & things go... very wrong, very quickly). I especially recommend The Tooth!

speaking of daemon lovers, here’s an academic analysis of this motif: Demon-Lovers and Their Victims in British Fiction (an extended excerpt is available on Google Books)

still speaking of daemon lovers: The Book of Tobit! and, specifically, the story of Asmodeus and Sarah of Media, who might or might have not inspired the line about the woman wailing for her demon-lover in Coleridge’s Kubla Khan. also! this... retelling of sorts: (x)

The Song of the Sun: Collected Writings by Leah Bodine Drake (her poems of fantasy are quite wonderful; here’s an example!),

speaking of fantasy-themed poems... these anthologies are very good indeed (& beautifully published!): Monster Verse / Dead & Undead / Killer Verse / Bewitched & Haunted,

Het Lied van Heer Halewijn (a proto-Bluebeard story, and the Dutch equivalent of Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight)

speaking of... these are some of my favourite transformative works dealing with this ballad: (x) (x) (x) (once again, it’s fanfiction, but it’s quality fanfiction, cross my heart & hope to die)

german-language musicals! goodness, they’re some full-throated, pulpy, gothic extravaganza. here’s my favourite scene from Tanz der Vampire, and here’s the english lyrics, and here’s the english-language demo (it is... not as good as the original, alas). i also recommend Elisabeth & Rebecca! speaking of pulpy musicals: can we talk about the riddle from the scarlet pimpernel? because it has no business being this catchy. 

alright, i’ve covered some lowbrow musicals, so let’s talk highbrow now: The Great Comet is based on a tiny excerpt from War & Peace, but good god. it /feels/ monumental in scope. this song is... yeah. yeah. it’s also sung-through (like Les Mis, or Evita), so you’re not missing out on anything, even if you only listen to the cast recording!

speaking of songs with great Madi energy... Take This Waltz by Leonard Cohen (based on a poem by Lorca!) definitely reminds me of you!

also. Memorial by Susanne Sundfør. it’s the drama! and Kate Bush, obviously, especially Hammer Horror (even more obviously) <3 and this rendition of Memory! 

i don’t know whether you own ps4, or even consider yourself someone keen on video games as a medium, but madi. madi. madi. bloodborne is practically tailor-made for you, and i’m not even exaggerating. dubious medicine! secret cults! victorian architecture! blood, blood everywhere! eldritch abominations beyond human comprehension! i’m going to fly you to poland just so you can play it. 

on a related note... netflix’s castlevania is. well, i genuinely cannot say whether it’s good, but it’s fun, and its aesthetic is basically gothic on steroids. very explicit, that is to say: sex and murder usually take place simultaneously.

some academic books of interest that were not already included in my previous masterpost:

The Ring of Truth: And Other Myths of Sex and Jewelry,

the Devil’s Advocates series,

The Work of the Dead: A Cultural History of Mortal Remains,

Dark Banquet: Blood and the Curious Lives of Blood-Feeding Creatures,

Rabid: A Cultural History of the World's Most Diabolical Virus,

Severed: A History of Heads Lost and Heads Found,

The Science of Monsters + Science of the Magical.

[winsonsaw2003]

Looking For Descendants Of William Thomas Lewis (1790-1875) Bencoolen,Penang

I’m looking for descendants of William Thomas Lewis (1790-1875) to share some information.

Son of Henry Charlesz Lewis and ?. He was Resident Councillor of Penang from (1855-1860).He died in 1875 Penang,Malaysia. He married 1st,Jane Lancaster,2ndly Maria Antonetta Neubronner. His issue:- i) Jane Lewis ii) Elizabeth Martha Lewis (1821-1839). iii) Wilhemina Lewis (1823-1856). iv) Henrietta Elizabeth Lewis (1828-1891),Brighton married to Captain George Smart. Their issue:- ai)Alexander William Smart(1848-1922)married to Fanny Amelia Kearns.His issue:- bi)George Edward Smart,Royal Garrison Artillery(1881-?) married Marion Alice Barrow. bii)Sir Walter Alexander Smart(1883-1962)married Amy Nimr Pasha.His issue:- ci) Micky Smart(1935-1943).A niece,Soraya George Antonius. biii)Hugh Sale Smart(1885-1915). aii)George Henry Robert Smart(1850-1898) married Caroline Elizabeth Hughes. aiii)Annette Elizabeth Smart(1852-1922) married 1stly Thomas Munn & 2ndly John Frederick Sale. aiv)Edward de Sausmarez Smart(1859-1931)married 1stly Amy Beatrice Dugdale & 2ndly Elizabeth Raim. av)Helen Alexa Smart(1862-1941)Hove,Sussex,married Robert William Duff. v) Catherine Isabella Lewis(1829-?) married Joseph Rose. vi) William Lewis (1830-?). vii) Maria Mary Lewis (1834-1907) married Robert Crosse. Their issue:- ai) Rev.Thomas George Crosse (1850-1932) married Fanny Maria Nelson.His issue:- bi) Frances Katharine Crosse(1887-?) married Elwyn Storer Bowen. Their issue:- ci) John Elwyn Bowen (1928-1995). cii) Joan Beatrice Bowen (1931-1984). bii) Thomas Latymer Crosse(1889-1916). biii) Robert Grant Crosse (1894-1916). biv) George Hallewell Crosse(1896-1949),South Africa married Doris Jessie Forrester. His issue:- ci) Charles George Latymer Crosse. bv) Edward Neufville Crosse(1898-1970) married Margaret K Mackillop Brown. His issue:- ci) Gillian S Crosse married Martin W Evans aii) Charles Robert Crosse (1852-1921) married Catherine Da Costa Porter. His issue:- bi) Mary Da Costa Crosse(1878-1962) married Arthur Sydney Bates. Their issue:- ci) Anne Mary Bates(1915-2006) married John Oliver-Bellasis. Their issue:- di) Hugh Oliver-Bellasis bii) Whitworth Charles Crosse(1879-1948) married Enid Isobel Lewis. His issue:- ci) David Charles Whitworth Crosse(1923-2001). biii) Jeannette Annie Crosse(1881-1948) married Alan Harvey Lockyer Prynne. Their issue:- ci) Michael Whitworth Prynne (1912-1977) married Jean Violet Stewart. His issue:- di) Bridget Mary Prynne married Donald Ian Fleming Spence. Their issue:- ei) Arabella Jean Spence married Nicholas C I Burge. Their issue:- di) Lily Victoria Burge. dii) Thomas Charles H Burge. eii) Robert Ian James Spence. dii) Caroline Anne Prynne married Terence Michael Kehoe. Their issue:- ei) Susanna Jane Kehoe. eii) Catherine Jenny Kehoe. eiii) Olive Anne Kehoe. diii) Celia Jane Prynne married David Christopher Greenberg. Their issue:- ei) Christopher Michael Greenberg. eii) Richard Martin Greenberg. eiii) Alexander David Greenberg. div) Andrew Geoffrey Lockyer Prynne married Catriona Mary Brougham. His issue:- ei) Jessica Jean Prynne. eii) Miranda Wendy Prynne. eiii) Natasha Sally Prynne. cii) Mary C A Prynne(1913-?) married Norman A Leonard. ciii) Alan St George Prynne(1917-?) married Marcia Catherine Huggins. His issue:- di) ? Prynne (1943-?). biv) Reginald Meredith Crosse (Crosse-Kelly) (1883-1947) married Ethel Beatrice Bedingfeld Kelly. His issue:- ci) Richard C B Crosse-Kelly married Kathleen K Swan. His issue:- di) Angela C Crosse-Kelly married William E Strong. viii) Henry Alfred Lewis (1836-?). ix) George Lewis (1838-1858). x) Louisa Clemence Lewis (1839-?) married William Hewitt Seton-Burn. xi) Clarence Aleric Lewis (1842-1843). xii) Edward Lewis (1846-1847).

Please contact me at - winsonsaw20032000@yahoo.com