#Gale 1900

[miraplayssims]

The day of Benjamin and Theodora´s wedding had come. The bethroded hadn´t talked or even seen to eachother since their parents told them about their planned marriage and Benjamin felt it was high time to do so.

Leaving his parents and future in-laws talking outside, Benjamin walked in to the church where his sisters were waiting for the ceremony to begin.

He walked up to his Magdalena and cleared his throat, "Magda, do you know where Theo is?"

“I believe she´s getting ready in the sacristy," she said, giving him a sympathetic look, "how are you feeling, brother?"

"I´m fine," he sighed, "thank you."

Benjamin knocked on the door and heard a quiet "come in" from inside. When he entered and saw his childhood friend dressed in all white, silently sobbing with her face buried in her hands, his heart sank. My dear, dear friend, he thought, how I wish you wouldn´t be crying on your wedding day.

Benjamin kneeled down in front of the crying girl, "Oh Theo," he mumbled, "it´ll be all right."

Theodora looked up at him, wiping the tears from her cheeks, "yes," she nodded softly, "I´m being dramatic."

He grabbed her cold hands and squessed them thight, "no, you´re not. Cry if you want to, God knows I have," he whispered, "listen Theo, I swear to you I´ll try my best to make you happy, as a friend or as a husband. We don´t ever even have to share a bed, if that´s what you wish. We decide how this will work, no one else."

Theodora had stopped sobbing, but tears still trickled down her face, "I know you´ll be good to me, that´s not my worry. It´s just-," her voice thickened, "well, it´s just that I wish to have children some day. But as you said, perhaps we´ll never share the marital bed."

"If you wish to have children, we´ll have children," he reassured her.

Theodora stood up, smiling bleakly, "thank you," she whispered and embraced him, "you´re my dearest friend."

They stood there for a while in a silent embrace before Benjamin finally broke away, "come now, I think it´s time."

[cmonbartender]

The Road to Oz (1909) - John R Neill

[eyebagshawty]

Heads Will Roll (Haunted House AU)

Pairing: Actor!Astarion x Actor!F!Reader

Summary: It's a typical night working at Death Clutch Manor during the busiest time of the month; the week of Halloween. While our dear Tav is finishing up her makeup to scare some patrons, her "vampire" coworker has another thing in mind.

Warnings: Fake gore, biting, blood kink, pocket knives, SMUT (mdni!!!), oral, fingering, p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it), sort of public sex but not really (please message me if more warnings should be put in and I will update accordingly)

Other Tags: situationship to lovers, fem!reader, basically crack but make it sexy, alternate universe, Gale is a sassy and upset manager, Shadowheart is tired

Word Count: ~3.2k

A/N: This is my first fic in a while, and probably the first nsfw fic I've ever done. Please be gracious, please enjoy, and happy (early) Halloween!

"Quit hogging the palette Tav, I need my eyes to look like a void and quickly or this helmet isn't going to work," Shadowheart exhaled, looking over at you with an exasperated expression. You looked in the mirror at your face, painted stark white with green ooze dripping out of your mouth. You took one more dab of black face paint and stroked it in messy lines around your eyes, handing the palette over to her.

"I don't even know why Withers insisted on me being a possessed woman. It's kind of an exorcist knockoff? I don't know it just feels silly on me, and a bit corny at that."

"He's basically ancient, of course his taste for the costumes we wear would be as well. I mean look at me, what even is a dark justiciar?" She popped in her green sclera contacts, put on her helmet, and scowled at her reflection; a weird version of a knight with dark blood dripping out of the helmet eyesockets, along with stiff dark grey armor and medieval weaponry. You shrugged and looked to the provided straightjacket for your costume. How did they even put these things on in the 1900s? I should commit myself to a mental institution for even trying to figure out this stupid mess.

Shadowheart's head perked up at a knock on the door. She scoffed and rolled her eyes, looking over at you with her finger pointing in her mouth in a gagging motion. You stifled a giggle. "If it's Gale don't even think about coming in we're naked -- or I'll make sure Withers schedules you on Friday," she half-yelled in a monotone voice.

"All the better darling, maybe I can help my dear sweet Tav into her straightjacket while you weep about your dreadful costume in the break room."

A furious blush crossed your cheeks. You were dreading coming into work today, hoping to curl up at home with a hot chocolate to watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre while you cuddled with your cat. Now you were truly dreading coming into work because Astarion was here. You met him at the beginning of the month during auditions for the haunted house, and you had also been fucking him ever since. You weren't quite sure if there was something more between you, any proverbial strings attached, but you were racked with anxiety every time you were around him. Your feelings for him had only grown over the month you worked together, and now that Halloween was upon you, you didn't want what you guys had to end.

You sighed and opened the door to his smug grin and wiggling eyebrows. He looked good tonight, dressed in aristocratic victorian clothing, with a velvet cape cascading down his back. His red contacts made him look paler, the grey contouring stick giving him gaunt cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. His platinum blond hair was slicked back, and his fangs were just peeking through his smile and poking into his bottom lip. You stared at the latex-made holes in his neck, wishing it were real. You wanted him to bite into you, to drink from you; to be marked as his in an eternal bond.

You were staring. You snapped out of the haze, cheeks blazing and looking back up to his face. "What do you want Astarion? The tour starts in 10 minutes and I really can't figure this thing out." You tried to look nonchalant, you really did. Astarion let out a hearty laugh and grabbed one of the straightjacket belts, lacing it between his fingers.

"Well my treasure, I have come to offer my services. Perhaps we could go to the mens dressing room and I could help? In more ways than one of course." He makes a show of looking to your cleavage, pushed up inside the skintight leotard you'd pulled on for comfort. He looks back up to you, and his eyes soften a bit. "Only if you'd like, of course. I'm sure Jenevelle here would be more than happy to lay down her morningstar and help you into this torturous monstrosity as well," he finished with a light giggle.

Shadowheart, leering at you both during this decidedly strange interaction, scoffed and got up from her vanity chair. "First of all, don't call me that. And second, whatever it is that's going on right now? Leave me out of it. I'm gonna go see if Karlach has a monster for me to down before these customers suck the life out of me. And for godssakes, please lock the door." She swiftly shimmied away from you and Astarion and down the hallway. He closed the door and locked it with a soft click.

As soon as the click had reverberated through the room, his lips were hard pressed into yours, teeth and plastic fangs clashing together. He rubbed your sides and walked you over to the vanity counter before breaking away, breathing heavily and close to you. His breath smelled like cinnamon. "You know I always enjoy our little trysts my dear, but I think it shall be exceptionally fun in this crazy get up Withers picked out for you." You looked up into his eyes with a soft smile, your entire body feeling warm at the prospect of getting laid where you could so easily be found out. As he moved the black tresses of your wig to expose your neck, the thought of him marking you made a thought pop into your head -- and not a particularly comfortable one. As he leaned in, you pressed your hands to his chest with a sense of apprehension.

"Astarion, I need to ask you about something," you said, voice unusually quiet.

"Whatever about? Did I do something wrong?" His eyes widened and he moved to back away from you, but you held him in place with your legs which had unconsciously wrapped around his waist.

"No, no you could never do something wrong in that way to me and you know that," you stroked his cheek with your forefinger, "I just wanted to talk about us. Where we stand I guess." His brows furrowed, and you went to smooth out the creases with your thumb, nervously biting your lip. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've... how do I put it... fallen for you? You always know how to make me laugh, you're unreasonably out of my league, and well, we've grown really close lately. I can never stop thinking about you, and I care about you. Deeply. I understand if you don't feel the same way, but the month is almost over, which means work is almost over and I just wanted to-"

He silenced you by pressing his lips to yours. It wasn't fueled by passion and lust this time, but something softer and pure. He cupped your cheeks with warm hands and pulled away, looking at you with a vulnerable expression on his face. "I don't think anybody has wanted more with me in a while. Because of my devilishly good looks," he let out a nervous chuckle, "I've only really had one night stands without a promise for something real. But with you it's different. I find myself thinking about you, wondering what you're up to when we aren't scheduled together, hoping you're thinking about me." He interlocked his fingers with yours, stroking the pad of his thumb over your shiny press-on claw which you had just put on not 15 minutes ago. He looked at your joined hands and smiled to himself. 'I like you a lot, Tav. I love, well, this," He gestured with his other hand between you two, "And I want it all. I have fallen from great heights for you as well."

Your body felt like it had reached 1,000 degrees after his confession, eyes wide and lips parted. You couldn't believe somebody as beautiful (and sassy) as him could want something more with you. Holy shit holy shit holy shit I am telling Karlach about this immediately, you thought to yourself. You looked up at him with heavy lashes, a short puff of relieved air pushing past your lips. You looked at the clock next to the door and rolled your eyes, your lips pulling into a dopey smile. "This is good. Great, even. I wish we could keep talking, I really do, but you know Gale is gonna yell at us if we aren't there before the tour introduction. Can you please help me into this thing?"

Astarion scowled at the door then looked back into your eyes. He delicately grabbed one strap of your leotard, pulling it down your shoulder. He brought his mouth right next to your ear and whispered, "You know my sweet... I don't really care what boot-muncher Gale thinks. I'm hungry for you, absolutely starving." He nipped the shell of your ear lightly and you let out a shuddered breath. He stayed still, awaiting your response.

You brought your finger up to twirl a strand of his hair at the nape of his neck and whispered back, "You know, you can feed on me tonight if you'd like." He groaned softly and pressed his body deeper into you, getting impossibly close as your legs tightened around his waist.

"Oh darling, I thought you'd never ask."

He leant down to your neck and softly bit into it, suckling and soothing the pain with his tongue. You gasped grabbing onto his shoulders with your claws lightly digging into the velvet fabric draped over them. As he licked and sucked at that sweet spot in the crook of your neck, his fingers deftly stroked, pinched, and twisted your nipple. You brought up a hand to your mouth and let out a muffled cry of his name.

He pulled away and grabbed your hand back down to your side. "No no no, my sweet, there will be no secretive noises tonight. Now that we can truly be together I want everybody to hear everything that passes through those luscious lips of yours. Understand?" You gulped and nodded eagerly at him, your pupils blown wide in wanting for Astarion. Your Astarion.

Instead of returning to your neck, he gave the nipple that wasn't being touched attention with his mouth. He licked and sucked as if you held the nectar of the gods inside each breast and he was praying for a taste. You let out a loud, breathy moan, and he smiled smugly against your nipple. "Good girl, always listening to what I ask of her."

During this moment, booming echoes of the haunted house's tour introduction rang through the room. You could hear Gale announce every word. "Hello esteemed guests! It is my honor to welcome you to the Death Clutch Manor; the house of rot, where pure souls and joy come to decay, and the haunted fiends rise from the ashes to induce your terror," Gale let out a nervous but wicked laugh the next room over. These walls were a lot thinner than you thought.

Astarion moved with open-mouthed kisses down your body, traveling lower and lower until he reached your clothed pussy. He looked up at you, eyes half-lidded with a lazy smile, and tugged down the rest of your leotard.

"Star, are you sure we should be doing this? We could so get fired," You said as you nervously eyed the door, then looking back down to him. He kissed the insides of your thighs, coaxing another soft moan from you.

"Since when did you start calling me Star? I'm quite fond of it," He mumbled as his thumb started to rub slow circles into your clit. You whimpered, holding back more searing moans as they sizzled in your throat.

"I just, mmh, I-," You started. but you could barely even think. Two of his fingers had entered your folds, pumping deep in and out of your pulsating cunt.

"Use your words darling, talk to me," he cooed, leaning his head down to nip and suck at your thighs as his fingers continued.

"I always thought you reminded me of a starry sky, and it, fuck, it fits with your name-," You cut yourself off with a loud cry as his lips latched around your engorged clit, fingers reaching places they never had before as you opened yourself up to him.

You could hear the tour slowly moving away from you, Gale saying something about Jergal possessing some woman, and then gasping offendedly. "Well well well, it looks like our resident poltergeist is hiding from us. Perhaps in the rafters? Beneath the floorboards? Be sure to keep your eye out, for she could strike at any moment."

"Well, my moonlight, I don't think I could come up with a better nickname. It's like we're meant to be. This cunt is made for me, that's for sure," Astarion asserted. His fingers kept speeding up, his tongue working artfully around and on your clit. You were getting close, your whimpers and cries bouncing off the walls. Surely the patrons couldn't hear you…right?

With his free hand, Astarion slipped out a small pocket knife. Throughout the times you two had been intimate, he knew blood was what got you going. A bit odd, but to each their own, he thought, a mischievous smile spreading across his face as he continued to eat you out like a man starved for a year.

"Moonlight, you're mine, yes?" He asked as the blade flipped open. He looked up to you and his fingers paused their movements.

"Yes, fuck my star I want to be forever yours. Please keep going," You urged, desperate for the release you knew only he could give you.

"Lovely," He whispered to himself against your clit. His fingers resumed their motions, his free hand with the knife cutting the smallest letter A into your upper thigh. It wouldn't scar, and he of course would never truly cause you pain.

You screamed his name like a prayer as your orgasm crashed into you with the weight of a freight train, your pussy tightening around Astarion's fingers as he coaxed you through it. The sweet sting of the cuts coupled with the fact that his literal first initial was on your thigh for anyone to see had pushed you far over the edge. He moved over to the small cuts and licked them clean, getting another soft whimper from you.

You body relaxed against the vanity mirror, your head left in a daze. Astarion stood up from his position between your thighs and licked each digit clean of your slick. He kissed you again, and you tasted the sweet tang of your arousal from his lips, whimpering softly into his mouth. You pulled away and moved to stand up, yet his hands braced your thighs down against the countertop. "And where do you think you're going?" He said, his voice gruff and filled with lust. Now that he was standing, you could clearly see his own arousal pressed hard against his slacks.

"Well I figured you might want something too before we, you know..." You looked down at his clothed cock hungrily. Astarion lifted up your chin and kissed your nose.

"Now my moonlight, we can't let all that prep work go to waste. Besides, I need to feel you around me as soon as possible." His pupils were blown wide with lust and hunger. His hand came to rub your side again, stroking circles into the soft flesh. "Besides, all these screams from the patrons are nothing compared to the sound of my name, cried from your lips." He gave you a hard, passionate kiss, biting down lightly on your lower lip. You opened your mouth, moaning when his tongue slipped in and fought yours for dominance. He won of course, and let out a sultry groan as his tongue lovingly explored the expanse of your mouth and throat. You pulled away fast.

"Gods, please just fuck me." You helped him out of his shirt, kissing every inch of skin you could find. You could hear Gale off in the distance mumbling angrily into the mic. Something about 'where that damned vampire' was. At this point, you could care less if Gale found you two out. At least he would know that you were wholly Astarion's, and he was not going to share.

His cock sprang free from his underwear as he pulled it down and off his legs, standing bare before you. You licked your lips as you saw a fat drop of precum leak out of the flushed red tip. He came closer, the tip of his cock pressed right to the entrance of your folds. Your hips softly jolted forward, eager to be filled up. He kissed both of your cheeks and gazed down at you, red eyes filled with affection. "You're the first person I've ever truly cared for," He whispered, then gently pushed his length into you, filling you up inch by inch.

You both moaned together as he bottomed out inside of you. He kissed you gently as he waited for you to adjust to his size. When you were ready for him to move, he began gingerly thrusting into you, your walls pressing around him in a warm embrace. Out of all the times you two had sex, this was the most vulnerable he had ever been with you. You moaned at the thought, basking in his affections.

He began to thrust harder, gradually getting faster as he pulled out completely and then slammed all the way back in. He placed a hand on your neck as he moved, his thumb swiping in up and down motions. "Say my name moonlight." He began hitting that sweet spot, the one he knew so well, earning a breathy scream from your lips.

"Astarion, please Astarion, I'm so close I-" You released another loud cry as his cock began hitting your cervix. The coil in your stomach was wrung tight, ready to snap at any moment. His movements were growing erratic, his cock twitching as he kissed you wherever he could. Devouring you.

"Come for me, my love."

And with that you let out a loud string of curses, the band snapping as your vision went white. The fluttering of your walls around him was too much. "Paint me 'Star, please." He quickly unsheathed himself from you and released his seed all over your torso. He moaned, his cheeks flushed red as he covered you in every last drop.

You both breathed heavily together, barely getting over the high you'd just experienced. Nothing would ever compare to this moment and many more to come. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, your face paint smeared almost completely off. His mouth was covered in the white greasy paint, the green ooze mixing with it to create a light green color. "Let's get you all cleaned up before necklace-chewer finds us. The tour's over I think."

He gingerly wiped you clean with the fabric of his cape, giving your stomach a kiss when it finally looked spotless. You smiled at the show of affection, he was always good with aftercare but now it felt better. Special. Loving. He helped you down from the vanity countertop, your legs trembling as you got your bearings.

There was banging on the other side of the dressing room door, along with a very furious Gale. "Come out you two, right now. You've embarrassed our credibility as a haunted house completely for the years to come!" Jumping, you fumbled into your leotard, Astarion groaning at the sound of Gale's voice. He swiftly pulled on his slacks and shirt, the collar unbuttoned and rumpled.

"Come off it bone boy, Tav here was feeling sick. I was helping her," Astarion yelled. You both heard a string of curses and grumbles of your names. You giggled, pulling on a pair of jeans as well before collecting yourself and opening the door. You coughed and sniffled, hoping you could pull off Astarion's lie.

"I'm sorry Gale, I think a kid sneezed on me yesterday. Astarion was just getting me water and some Advil, I promise I'll rest up tonight and be ready for tomorrow." You looked up at him with puppy dog eyes. Astarion smirked as he leaned against the recently warmed countertop, shrugging at Gale's miffed expression.

Gale looked down at you, your hair messed up and bruises littering your neck. He huffed, face flushing red as he looked anywhere else. He was grateful you couldn't see through the skull paint, quickly adjusting the bow tie on his tux and running a hand over his slicked down hair. "Fine. But if you get sick again I'm gonna have Withers cut your pay until the end of the week." You squealed and gave him a platonic hug, Astarion's expression instantly souring.

"Thank you thank you thank you you're the best manager ever!" You bounded past him and out of the employee exit, waiting for Astarion by your car so he could continue 'tending to the sick' as he had put it.

[yellowbrickramble]

It's easy to forget that four years ago in 1900, Dorothy Gale was in this room talking to a giant papier mâché head.

[johnslittlespoon]

guys i accidentally just. on discord. brainrotted 1900+ words of uhhh modern au buckbucky john rimming his 'straight' very vanilla bestfriend gale and it all spawned from this concept

and listen. this wasn't intentional. i know i have so many wips. but surely... a little bit of very head over heels john enthusiastically eating gale out (and very selfishly hoping gale can't stop thinking about him when he hooks up with marge from then on) can't hurt... as a treat....

[marvelousmop]

The Mystery of John Burr the Chestnut Man

The Land of Oz is a series with many an obscure characters - most people could probably tell you about Dorothy, the Tin-Man, the Lion, and the Scarecrow, but how many know of Ozma? Or Tik-Tok? What of Professor H.M. Wogglebug T.E.? And that's just scratching the surface, considering there are so many books (around 40 considered "Canonical"), and then beyond that there are characters who pop up in works connected to Oz... and then there's the case of John Burr the Chestnut Man. Who the Hell is he?

Well, first, some context:

In the year 1900, L. Frank Baum published The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, complete with illustrations from W.W. Denslow. Due to their collaborative efforts on the book, it was agreed that both men should have the rights to the characters and various elements within the first book. This arrangement may sound a bit unusual, but really it should be fine as long as Denslow and Baum don't have some sort of falling out.

Guess what happened in 1902 while they were working on the Wizard of Oz Stage Musical?

So, Denslow and Baum went their separate ways, with Baum going on to write "The Marvelous Land of Oz", while Denslow continued illustrating for books such as "The Pearl and the Pumpkin". He also worked on a small book called "Denslow's Scarecrow and the Tin-Man", featuring a short story about the duo getting into some hijinx after deciding they were tired of working endlessly on the Wizard of Oz stage show - I'm sure he wasn't working through anything there.

Around the time Marvelous Land got published, he also worked on a newspaper series called "Queer Visitors from the Marvelous Land of Oz" which served both to promote the sequel and increase the reach of the Oz brand. It's also one of the few remaining artefacts of a time when Baum really wanted Professor Wogglebug to be the mascot of the Oz series, but that's a discussion for another time.

Denslow sees this and thinks "Well, I'll show him! I'll make my own newspaper series!" and so we got Denslow’s Scarecrow and the Tin-Man (yes he used the same name as he did for the book - he also split that book into two halves and published them in the newspaper series, so that’s confusing). Unlike Baum's strip, this series mainly stuck to the events of the 1902 stage musical, so Dorothy never left Oz and is also referred to as Dorothy Gale (a name Baum wouldn't use in prose until Ozma of Oz) or Dotty (her show-exclusive nickname). The first story also makes reference to a Good Witch covering the poppy field with snow, which didn't happen in the book but did happen in the musical. Other than this though, they keep references deliberately vague - no mention is made of King Pastoria II, Cynthia Synch, or Dorothy’s pet cow, Imogene (who replaces Toto in the stage musical - similarly, this series makes no reference to Toto). It’s interesting to see an Oz-related work be influenced by a very popular adaptation other than the MGM movie.

Okay, but who is John Burr the Chestnut Man?

John Burr is introduced in the second story in the Scarecrow and Tin-Man series, and immediately he raises questions. Apparently, he's the Fairy Godfather of the Scarecrow (which possibly links him to the Scarecrow's 1902 musical origin wherein he comes to life because Dorothy wished for a friend, but this isn't made explicit) and possibly the Tin-Man. It's not clear. The Scarecrow and the Tin-Man are joined at the hip for most of this series though, so it hardly matters. In his first appearance, he transports the Scarecrow, Tin-Man, and the Cowardly Lion down to Earth, making him one of the most powerful characters in the series at this point.

Later in the series, he hands the Scarecrow and the Tin-Man "Magic Passes" because nobody will tell these poor guys how money works, so they just keep stealing things (relatedly, the Scarecrow and the Tin-Man book I mentioned earlier where they're performing in the musical mentions that the two just aren't paid for their work... again, I'm sure Denslow wasn't working through anything there)... and that's it. That's all we know of him. He enters the narrative, fulfils this oddly powerful role for someone who isn't even hinted at in anything prior and is then forgotten about entirely.

Also, he sells chestnuts, that's why he's the chestnut man.

[Honestly, the funniest thing about this whole situation to me is that Denslow's Scarecrow and the Tin-Man series is just significantly better than Queer Visitors from the Marvelous Land of Oz - better art and the writing is just very charming - both are probably equally racist though, so be warned if you want to seek these out].

[midnigtartist]

I AM HEAR TO ASK ABOUT GALE AND DOTTY

Curious about how you came up with Dotty's character design because I love it a lot djfhvbdfh

Also very curious about what happens between her and Gale post-canon. I know that there's angst in their future and I'm 👀👀

I made a little inspo graphic for Dottys design actually! I think you could find if if you search her tag on my blog but basically i wanted to do a Proper Lady design, mixing elements from 1900 and 1960 design. I also wanted to include parts of heritage in the design (dotty is very heavily based off of india during imperialism- the pressure to conform to western standards of style- it was more obvious in her original ttrpg) hence the nose ring and the saree sash

Also royal blue is such a pretty color and wanted her to have a darker color palette so i went with greys and purples

But YES Dotty is just tragic and one of the things she and Gale would need to deal with post game would be her bone hurt curse

I think that kind of like Astarion and his vampirism the tadpole suppresses the worse symptoms but after its gone it starts to hit her full force. Necrotic deterioration of her bones from the inside causes her hands to shake and she starts to develop chronic pain that makes it hard for her to walk. It takes awhile for her to say anything to Gale bc she doesnt know whats wrong and doesnt want to worry him

The curse will eventually kill her so they need to get the party back together and go on a quest to break it, ultimately culminating in Dotty having to kill her uncle (who cursed her and her father before her) to break the curse. Despite that her life span is pretty significantly shortened and leaves her with chronic pain the rest of life

Dottys my sad girl and i love her so dearly

[cladriteradio]

April 5 should be a national holiday for old-movie buffs. Look at the stars it produced: Walter Huston (1883), Spencer Tracy (1900), Melvyn Douglas (1901), Bette Davis (1908) and Gregory Peck (1916), plus such lesser lights as Grady Sutton and Gale Storm.

[dorothygale]

i didn’t know that dorothy’s last name was gale for the longest time and honestly thought whenever u talked ab wanting the dorothygale url, it was some kind of mashup between dorothea (song) and gale hawthorne (hunger games) and i didn’t understand why you wanted it so bad

scout WHAT 😭😭😭 this is the funniest thing i've ever read i'm literally wheezing to death in my kitchen rn

⬆️ gif of dorothy gale, the main character of beloved children's book the wonderful wizard of oz (1900), later adapted into the iconic 1939 film, which i watched multiple times per day as a child & now at least once a year on my birthday, and for which i got my first tattoo when i turned 18

[mgahinugotnadila]

Many of our compatriots in the Mainland believe that the huaqiao [note below] are all capitalists. Even the relatives in our hometown [Tangshan] look upon the fanke [the Hokkien term denoting lamnang, "our people," who had left China to make a living in a foreign land; literally, visitors or guests in a foreign land] as landlords and feel that going abroad is the path to prosperity. They do not understand the truth about the huaqiao. Of course there are huaqiao capitalists, but they are few in number. Eighty to ninety percent of the huaqiao are laborers, and a majority of them are small-time vendors, storekeeprs, workers, and peasants. They scrimp on food and other necessities in order to save money and return home and support their families.

[Lagalag sa Nanyang (Nanyang Piaoliuji) ni Bai Ren, salin ni Joaquin Sy. Galing sa yugtong Introduksiyon ni Caroline Hau.]

Lagalag sa Nanyang (Nanyang Piaoliuji) by Bai Ren, translated by Joaquin Sy. Excerpt from the Introduction by Carioline Hau.

Note: Huaqiao for the most part of its hundred-year history connoted enforced migration or exile, with additional meanings of official protection extended to Chinese abroad as well as self-conscious patriotism among the Chinese abroad, expressed as "cultureal" commitment to remaining "Chinese" or restoring one's "Chineseness". [...] It has also been applied to settlers who are foreign subjects.

I found this interesting. It corresponds with the stories our yaya told us of her father, who was born in 1900s Southern China (which province, she doesn't know) and migrated to the Philippines around the first quarter of the 20th century, leaving behind a family. He was very poor and sold siomai and other dimsum, I believe. He couldn't marry my yaya's mother because there were laws prohibiting the marriage of Chinese people and Filipinos.

According to Caroline Hau's introduction, author Bai Ren (real name Wang Jisheng, also a poet, novelist and dramatist) was born in Fujian in 1918. He migrated to the Philippines in 1933, traveling through Visayas then Manila in Luzon. He returned to China in 1937.

[miraplayssims]

Magdalena’s work days were getting longer and longer. The long hours didn’t bother her, however she knew her parents weren’t all that happy about it. Most days she’d have to run all the way from town to get home in time for supper.

"I´m home!" Magdalena exclaimed when she all but fell through the door.

Eugene threw a quick glance at his winded daughter before getting back to scraping his plate clean, "how gracious of you to finally join us," he teased.

"Yes, yes, very amusing," she said, kissing her parents hello before sitting down at the table, "so, what have I missed?"

After supper when Alice, Magdalena and Theodora finally were done with the dishes, Magdalena cleared her throat.

"I have something to tell you," she said, "I didn´t bring it up at dinner because, well, I don´t know how Marion will react."

Alice studied her daughter´s face, trying to figure out wether the news were good or bad "out with it then, lassie."

"I know I haven´t been home much these last couple months becuase of work, even though I promised you and papa I´d be able to help out just as much as before," Magdalena began, "I feel like that isn´t fair to any of you, especially know that you´re here Theo. What I´m trying to say is, Ms. Billingsley has offered me to move in with her. I think it´s a good idea, it´s one less mouth to feed, and it would give the girl´s more space in our room."

Theodora hugged her friend, "how exciting, Magda!"

Magdalena gave her an appreciative smile, "thank you. What do you think, mama?"

"I´m very happy for you, dear" Alice said, "I´ll speak with your father, don´t worry, I´m certain he´ll be just as pleased."

A week or so later, the day finally came for Magdalena to move out. And although everyone was happy for her, they were all sad to see her go, especially Marion.

"I´ll miss you terribly," the girl frowned, burrying her face in Magdalena´s neck.

"Now, now, it´s only a short walk from town. I´ll come visit all the time, and you can visit me as well!" Magdalena reassured her sister.

"I´ll hold you to that," Alice said when it was her turn to say good bye, "farewell for now my dear girl. I´m so very proud of you. It turns out your father was right all along, that typeweriter was a very smart investment indeed."

[cmonbartender]

Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz (1908) - John R Neill

[witchesoz]

A queer Oz

Oz is queer. There is no denying it. The land of Oz, the world of Oz has been embraced by gay and lesbians and was included as part of the LGBT community long before this acronym even appeared. Oz-related medias have shaped the homosexual communities, and there is no better way to prove it than to point out a common term most people know by now… FOD. “Friend of Dorothy”, an expression to designate a gay man and was used very often in the second half of the 20th century in Northern America to speak of homosexuality while avoiding any of the nasty side-effects these kinds of talks could have in this time. It isn’t used much anymore, thanks to LGBT communities becoming much more open, known and accepted in more times, but it still was a very important part of gay culture and history, and a clear mark tying it all to the world of Oz, and the character of Dorothy Gale.

And when talking of the queer people and Oz, it is the 1939 movie that has to be talked about. It is THE catalyst, the landmark, the focus point of the gay connection with Oz, and one of the classic “queer movies” of the 20th century. The movie’s plot and style resonated deeply with gay people: it was about escaping a rigid, small town and an unpleasant black-and-white world, to enter into a fabulous and magical universe filled with extravagant characters and vibrant colors ; it was about a group of outcasts banding together as a group against threats and dangers ; it was about a young girl trying to escape into a world without any kind of troubles and who embraced openly the seemingly-flawed male characters she met along the way ; it was about learning that sometimes you do not need to change yourself to be who you want to be… Lines of the movie have been famously reinterpreted, such as the Cowardly Lion’s self description as a “dandy lion” or Glinda’s “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” ; and while the idea of a “rainbow flag” for the LGBT community would only arrive much later, the movie’s heavy emphasis on rainbows (and its most famous song, “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”) is thought to have played a key role in the queer communities decision to pick the rainbow as their symbol. Of course the fact that Judy Garland was the main actress of the movie also helped fuel this whole thing, since Judy Garland was one of the “gay icons” of the first half of the 20th century, adored by generations of gay men that made up a good part of her regular audiences (and let’s not even get in for example the number of gay men in her personal life, or how some people theorize that her funerals being held so close to the Stonewall Riots might have had some emotional influence over the incident).

The interesting thing is that, beyond the 1939 movie, the original Oz material, the book series written by L. Frank Baum, is also extremely queer-friendly (to the modern eye at least) and has been reused as an LGBT symbol. I can’t talk of Baum’s personal stance on gay people because I don’t think he ever brought up the subject – and anyway, we are talking about 1900s-1910s America, what do you expect? But the liberal use of words like “queer” and “gay” in their original, older sense in the stories, especially when talking about the inhabitants of Oz (and particularly about Dorothy’s recurring friends) has not escaped the modern eyes. The relationship between Dorothy, recurring heroine of the Oz books, and Ozma, the girl-queen of Oz, has also been re-interpreted in the light of modern sensibilities: the two girls are stated repeatedly to be good and great friends, but their relationship as “best friends” is also depicted with a lot of proclamations of “love”, used in a broad and more innocent sense than today, and with a lot of physical contact between the two, ranging from simply hands holding to actual kisses… The fact social and friendship norms back in early 20th century America were different back then has a lot to do about how what was just seen as two girls being best friends become easily reinterpreted as a lesbian relationship in modern days. A very similar case happens with the “queer friendship” of the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman.

But there is one thing we cannot forget, it is the existence in the very second Oz book, The Marvelous Land of Oz, of one of the earliest “trans” characters of modern literature, Tip “Tippetarius” that is revealed to be Ozma, princess of Oz…

Overall now you will find “Oz” included in the name of numerous gay bars, dance clubs or gay-oriented business (ranging from small gift gay gift shops to charity organizations for the AIDs crisis) ; Ozian characters and imagery often appear during Pride parades ; and the fact the Oz stories have been massively used in the world of musical theater (a very predominantly queer and gay form of media in America) keeps reinforcing this connection – the “Wicked” musical being a good example of this. And by focusing on Dorothy herself, and her actress Judy Garland, the gay community actually poured in a very strange and dual feeling – as Dorothy embodied some sort of joyful, queer-embracing, free and colorful innocence the gay men strived towards, while Garland with her infamously sad and tragic life reflected eerily the sufferings and despair felt by the very same community, with as a result the song “Over the Rainbow” becoming as much of a sweet gay ballad as an anthem of queer pain.

- - - - -

Two additional facts about “Friends of Dorothy”.

One is a cultural one: “Friends of Dorothy” might not just be a reference to Dorothy Gale, but also a nod to a real-life Dorothy, Dorothy Parker, a critic and humorist socialite who was very close to the world of gay men in the 20s and 30s (who were frequent among her personal audience as well as among the guest of her renowned lavish parties).

The second is a fun trivia: Between late 70s and early 80s, the NIS (Naval Investigation Service, future NCIS) started an investigation in Chicago about homosexuality in the military services, and upon learning of the expression “Friends of Dorothy”… took it as a literal code name. As in, they seriously believed that there was a woman named Dorothy who was some sort of central figure or secret leader of the entire network of homosexual military agents in Chicago, and started hunting down for her, in hope of catching her and forcing her to give up the name of all the gay members of the military services. And the fact this “Dorothy” figure was a mysterious and elusive one they had a hard time tracking just reinforced them in their belief that she was truly the beating heart of some sort of secret homosexual ring or gay conspiracy…

Well, actually three facts – but the third is a bit less fun. The same way the “FOD” term was used less and less as the queer communities changed, and even came to be considered as more of a “slang” than a safe euphemism, newer and younger generations of gay men actually started… half-rejecting half-breaking away from the entire Oz tie to gayness. Half breaking away because the Oz and Judy Garland obsession is perceived by some as a truly “generational” phenomenon and as being more relevant to the gay communities of the 20th than the 21st century, and the 1939 movie and books themselves are getting much less prominent place in popular culture as time passes by. But I also include “half-reject” because some people actually take offense to the whole “Friends of Dorothy” business and some younger gay activists view this whole Oz connection as an embarrassing stereotype or shameful part of the gay community past that contributes to a feeling of overall silly campy caricature of the gay man. While not going into an open debate, an “anti-Dorothy” feeling seems to appear in the 21st century gay generations… Though in parallel, the 21st century generations actually completely rediscovered and brought to light Ozma of Oz as a trans character (while she had been hidden in the shadows for most of the 20th century), and while gay men might reject the Dorothy etiquette, the lesbian elements of Oz are going strong and popular today, so maybe the “Friends of Dorothy” phenomenon is simply shifting away from men and male homosexuality to rather solidify itself again around trans and lesbians.

[scotianostra]

On July 16th 1882 thirty-one Shetland "sixerns", with a total of 105 crewmen were lost in a storm. The event is still remembered as "The Bad Day".

This post covers three Shetland fishing tragedies over a 68 year period, it ended the centuries old tradition of Haff fishing in small six manned bots in the open waters of the North Atlantic around Shetland. Two of these tragedies happened in July, the third in December, however I have decided to post about the three in the one post.

There were between 300 and 500 sixareens or sixerns in Shetland. The Haaf fishing proved to be a hard life for these boats and they only tended to last 5 or 6 years. When they finished their lives as a fishing vessel some ended up being used as a flit boat for moving livestock, peats and other goods between islands or from ship to shore. The sixareens may eventually have ended up as the roof of shed or outbuilding. Nothing was ever wasted in Shetland, especially if it was wooden!

The men would travel up between 20 and 40 miles offshore. As the men were dealing with a prevailing wind, they could usually only sail in one direction. They were always happier if they could row out with a relatively light boat and sail back with a heavy load of fish!

When they reached the fishing grounds, the fishermen would barely be in sight of the highest hills in Shetland. They would have sea all around them.

Haaf fishing was very dangerous due to the unpredictable nature of the weather far out at sea. However, when you look at the numbers of men that fished and the length of time that they fished for, the actual disasters are relatively few.

On 16th July 1832 31 Shetland “sixareens” and a total of 105 crewmen were lost in a storm. The event is still remembered as “The Bad Day”. A London Distress Fund was set up and raised the sum of £3000. The money was raised for the dependants of the crofter-fishermen lost. The crew of one boat in 1832, did manage a lucky escape from the storm as they were picked up by a passing American sloop. However, the Captain of the American vessel refused to alter his course to Philadelphia and so, despite passing close to Orkney, the survivors had to cross the Atlantic and endure a further six months away from home before returning.

During another storm on 20th July 1881, hurricane force winds caught the fishermen by surprise. The boats that tried to come home were mostly capsized or swamped, but those that stayed at their lines for the most part survived. In all ten boats foundered and 58 Haaf fishermen lost their lives. They left behind 34 widows and 85 orphans. Six of these boats and 36 of the men were from the fishing station at Gloup in North Yell. It was a tragic loss for a small community.

On the morning of 21st December 1900, boats from Firth, Mossbank and Toft set off for the winter haddock fishing. They were some 32 kilometres (20 miles) away, between the Horse of Burravpoe and  Snap, when they were caught in a sudden and severe gale from the north-west. Many were lost during the storm which came on in the space of five minutes. The fleet were scattered. One made it to Whalsay, Skerries and Lunning but the rest were lost.

22 men were drowned, leaving 15 widows (5 of whom were pregnant), and 51 children. Firth was hit the hardest. Many of the men were great fishermen and the disaster devastated the Delting fishing industry, which never recovered. The women continued to work the crofts. Children grew up and moved away, leading to a rapid decline in population.

The plight of the families left destitute led to a lot of publicity in local and national press. The Delting Disaster Fund was set up to help those affected and it was one of Queen Victoria’s last public acts to appeal for support.

These major fishing disasters signalled the beginning of the end for Haaf fishing. The herring fishery in the 1880s and the Crofter’s Act of 1886, which put an end to the truck system, were two more nails in its coffin.

Larger safer boats were introduced and undecked sixareens were replaced by fully decked smacks. Fishermen could finally install a few home comforts. However, when the steam trawler was introduced, longlining in large sailing boats couldn’t compete economically. Haaf fishing stopped quite quickly at this point.

There are few sixareens left in Shetland. There are a couple of replicas and bits and pieces lying around here and there. At the Shetland Museum and Archives there’s a replica sixareen called the Vaila Mae. She sails regularly in Lerwick Harbour and you can even get a trip on her during Shetland Boat Week!

One of the only surviving sixareens from the past can be seen in the Shetland Museum, see pic teo, . She was built as the Foula mail boat, which fished for a little while and then ended up as a flit boat for shifting peats. She didn’t spend much of her life as a fishing sixareen.

You can find memorials all over Shetland to those lost at sea.

[sansculottides]

Filipino workers have been familiar with Karl Marx since the 1900s. Marx's portrait is published in the Labor Day issue of the newspaper Balagtas, a working class newspaper of the Philippine labor movement at the time. This newspaper was also the organ publication of the Balangay ng mga Tipografo, Litografo, at Encuadernador, a labor organization consisting of print shop unions, established by print workers in 1904. The president of this organization, and the editor of Balagtas, was Hermenegildo Cruz (known to his friends as Bindoy), a labor leader from the proletarian class, and true organic intellectual. The slogan of Balagtas and the Balangay was translated from a line by Marx in the General Rules of the International Workingmen's Association: "The emancipation of the working class shall be conquered by the workers themselves." ("Ang katubusan ng mga manggagawa ay na sa manggagawa rin.")

Happy birthday Marxy!

---

Kilala na ng mga manggagawang Pilipino si Karl Marx noong taong 1900s pa. Nakalimbag ang litrato ni Marx sa Mayo Uno isyu ng diario Balagtas, isang publikasyon ng uring manggagawa at ng kilusang paggawa noong panahon na iyon. Itong diario rin ang organ publication ng Balangay ng mga Tipografo, Litografo, at Encuadernador na isang labor organization ng mga unyon ng mga imprenta, tinayo noong 1904. Ang pangulo nitong organisasyon, at ang tagapatnugot din ng Balagtas, ay si Hermenegildo Cruz (kilala sa mga kaibigan niya bilang Bindoy), isang lider-manggagawa, galing sa uring proletaryo, at tunay na organic intelektwal. Ang slogan ng Balagtas at ng Balangay ay salin sa isang linya ni Marx, galing sa General Rules of the International Workingmen's Association: "Ang katubusan ng mga manggagawa ay na sa manggagawa rin."

Happy bertdei Marxy!

[artmuns-a-hazbin]

what type of personality have you figured out for daisy so far? I LOVE HER DESIGN SM LIKE I FEEL LIKE SHE WOULD BE THE THERAPIST FRIEND OR SMTH LIKE THAT

Oh I had a pretty clear picture right away! (I’m so glad you like her!!)

She’s mildly inspired from July Garland, specifically her performance on Dorothy Gale. If there is anything that we know about Alastor it’s that he VERY MUCH cares for the women in his immediate family—and they both are biracial during the early decades of the 1900s. Back then (I’m not sure many know this) biracial people were not even legally human—that didn’t happen until the 60s.

So because of that, combined with Alastor’s not only general view on women, but also how he likely is about the women in his family specifically, I highly suspect that he would be the type of brother to be a tad…protective? I guess we’ll go with that.

Because of that, when they were alive Daisy and Alastor were more or less attached at the hip—and that becomes a bit of a problem down in Hell (especially with a certain deer man’s scheming). She admires her brother quite a lot; he was there for her and more or less raised her after their mum died. As Daisy often puts it;

“My big brother is the best thing since sliced bread!”

Obvious downside—Daisy is overly attached to Alastor and truthfully won’t go out much if she can’t tag along with him. It’s not that she doesn’t enjoy outings, it’s just that she never would consider that she even could do those things without him. It does not help that she is very much the opposite of Alastor—she’s been taught about keeping up the smile for control, but she never really quite got it. Her expressions are pretty plain in the face; you can tell pretty quickly what she’s thinking just looking at her. She can get attached to anyone fairly easily as long as they are nice to her, and she tends to have the habit of not reading between the lines and isn’t able to see when someone is just putting up a nice front. The only one she’s able to actually get a proper emotional read on is Alastor—and that’s only because she’s known him literally her whole life—she knows the difference between his laughs and smiles.

Daisy just barely met the requirements for Hell. For the why…I won’t get into that part. But I’ll leave you with something to think about!

She only just manifests in Hell not long after the finale of Hazbin season 1. Until that point, Alastor was more than certain she was in Heaven. Why did it take so long for her to pop up.