#home sweet home 1914

[from1837to1945]

Home, Sweet Home (1914, D.W. Griffith)

[vintagedreamsofsennett]

Mr. and Mrs. Ford Sterling

[morrieandlicky]

Sweet Moments Between Maurice and Alec That You Have Not Seen Before (From E.M. Forster's 1st Draft for Maurice)

Context: Forster's first version of Maurice, finished in 1914, has a rather different ending than the final published version (no hotel scene, and no boathouse reunion). See here.

Forster's first draft for Maurice is, in my opinion, the rawest in terms of boldly displaying the love shared between Maurice and Alec. This version shows much more of Alec's emotion and tenderness, as well as of Maurice's sentiments and affection towards Alec. It is definitely not as subtle as the final version, with quite a few straightforward declarations of love.

Hence, I'm disappointed that Forster did not manage to integrate at least some of these 1914 texts into the final version: it would've made the love between Maurice and Alec much more pronounced and convincing, as well as made Alec a character with more depth and feelings.

Having read Forster's first draft for Maurice, I share below some of these moments between Maurice and Alec that are not in the final version (ordered on how lovely I think each moment is. Bolded texts are the highlights).

1. After running into Mr. Ducie in the museum and Maurice bursting out to Alec.

M: "I'd possibly have blown out my own brains."

A: "Why?" he asked, stopping dead.

M: "I should have known by that time that I loved you."

A: "You can't, sir, you couldn't."

M: "I love you, sir be damned."

A: "Maurice"—never before had the word been spoken—"you're an angel."

M: "I don't want to hear that."

A: "Maurice, Maurice" his voice failed also; he had once said the rest to a woman. "Maurice - what you've said I feel. Understand?"

M: "I think so, but I want to be sure. Remember those rose bushes in the other rain? - Look at me hard - That's right. That'll do. It's settled." (Maurice is referring to the moment when Alec ran in the rain across the rose bushes at Penge just to see Maurice's face.)

2. The conversation after Maurice refuses to stay the night with Alec—a scenario that only happens in the first draft in 1914. Be prepared for tears.

A: "Come just for a little to me."

M: "If I came it would be for ever."

A: "Ever's the best."

M: "Why, man, you sail Thursday."

Alec found no answer.

...: here's when Maurice explains in a long paragraph why they can't be together because of their class difference and the fact that they're both men. But in this long paragraph Maurice pretty much brings up wanting to marry Alec—"We can't have the particular thing we want (which is roughly speaking marriage) unless we sacrifice something else"

M: I thought from that letter of yours you might want me to come. But, Alec, come where to?"

A: "I'd know if you weren't a gentleman," Alec said. "We'd a' found work together as mates."

M: "Yes, and if you were a gentleman, I'd take you this minute to my home.

A: "I'd a' been what young Clive was to you, then."

M: "He's a saint and we aren't. Leave out him."

A: "I'd a' been yours till death, then." ("I would've been yours till death, then")

M: "Out there if you get a chance to marry, take it. That's what I wish.

A: "Maurice, what'll you do without me, dear? Have you no other friends?"

Maurice dared not look forward to his own future. He rushed on the parting.

M: "And if there's ever a child, I shan't ever have that, so remember me."

A: "I'll remember you, child or none. God bless you. O God bless you, and be with you if I can't."

3. Right after Maurice puts his hand on Alec's back in the museum

"Yes, awfully serious," remarked Maurice, and rested his hand on Alec's shoulder, so that the fingers touched the back of the neck, doing this merely because he knew that he loved Alec, that he loved him not as a second Dickie Barry, but deeply, tenderly, for his own sake, beneath weakness and vulgarity.

4. In the museum, Alec in pain and acting cute

[Alec] had bitten his lip, his eyes were red too; face and body were cramped with pain.

M: "Alec -"

A: "Alec am I?"

M: "I'm sorry I used that other name of yours."

A: "Don't speak to me," he growled, "let me go, you calling me Alec when I"

M: "Did you give me away then on purpose?"

A: "You're correct.

M: "Was it to get money - or only to do me harm?"

A: "I couldn't say."

M: "Come, let's get away where we can finish our talk."

A: "What? What do you say?"

M: "Come along, Alec."

A: "Do you call me that still?"

M: "Come away, man, don't break down for God's sake...." He took hold of [Alec's] arm. The touch was not reminiscent; it hinted at a relation to come.

A: "Oh but you must, I want it." Alec yielded.

5. Maurice at night thinking about Alec's letter

He tried to forget the treacherous letter, but it stole back to his mind, and he suffered most during moments in bed, when it masqueraded as a real love letter, and offered him the completeness that Clive enjoyed with Anne.

(This is brilliant writing because we, as readers, know that Alec's letter is a love letter, yet Maurice's "muddles" prevent him from seeing it as a love letter, and it is only at night, when he's craving Alec's presence, that he's able to allow himself to see the truth and succumb to his feelings for Alec.

Here, again, is also a suggestion of Maurice wanting to marry Alec, like how Clive married Anne)

6. One version of Maurice's and Alec's first night together

A: "Good evening - sir, said the low voice. Was you wanting something? Couldn't you sleep?" It was the gamekeeper.

On your rounds? gasped Maurice, trying to sound natural, and felt corduroys. Their touch disconcerted him. Whither was he tending from Clive into what companionship?

A: "Just wait till I've set down my gun - eh aren't you trembling?"

M: "So are you - ah don't."

A: "Don't you like that?"

M: "I don't know."

A: "Christ you're fussy. Don't you like me to touch you."

M: "That's you lad."

A: "Yes."

Side notes: hopefully these will shut all the detractors (of the relationship between Maurice and Alec) up—namely Clive apologists, Clive+Maurice shippers, and all of those dark academia classist out there.

[sleepyelliee]

how john and abigail treat you after finding out you are dating their son. part two

before you continue !

GN reader, implied death of a loved one, AU where John and Abigail survive, brief mentions about the VDL gang, implied poverty on your side, 1914 Jack (nineteen years old.) loosely proofread, lmk if I miss a warning. no y/n, just 'you.'

abigail took notice after a couple weeks of how her son's wardrobe drawers are practically empty. she knew that he was growing and maybe he threw some of his old clothes away to make space for the newer ones she hand stitches him - which is what Abigail Marston was trying to convince herself for a long time despite the fact that he has been coming home all giddy and smiley.

Abigail was concerned at first, she was afraid that he might be hanging out with the wrong group of people - or worse. She didn't want her son to be following the path that they were running from for years. Afterall, all these years of raising the young man she tried to teach him morals and respect for other folks, she hoped all that work she put into that boy's head did an impact on him.

John also took a notice couple weeks after when he realized that some of the ranch work hasn't been completely done, indicating that the attempt of doing the chores were half-assed. He noticed that his boy has been returning home later than usual with such a giddy smile too, and would immediately go to bed than talk about his day. This was quite unusual for Jack Marston since most days they have dinner together and Jack occasionally talks about how his day went.

...

As Abigail was setting dinner on the dining table, she decided to ask her son about this new found behavior she's been observing lately. "Jack?" She called out to the young man, "We need to talk to you, son." She muttered as her gaze fell onto her beloved husband, giving him a nod to continue with the conversation as she sets down the plates on the table.

"We...uh, noticed your behavior," John began, trying to bring this up in an appropriate way, "You've been all giddy and smiley, is there somethin' you want to tell us?" John questioned as his gaze was set on his son who was lying back on the couch with a book in his hand.

Both parents were quite nervous with his behavior, they didn't know if he was hanging out with someone he shouldn't because he hardly ever went out until recently. Normally, the young man only went out to grab new books at the library, run an errand for his mother or went hunting with his father.

They didn't expect how Jack set his book down and went on a whole rant about you. They were trying to prepare themselves for the worst, but with the smile he had on his face and the rosy cheeks that grew more and more red when he spoke about you only told that he was crushing on or in an relationship with you already.

Jack told them how you looked, your sweet personality and how you would look at him - sending the young man into a blushing mess when he would soon get excited to tell his parents about all the adventures you go on, your favorite things to do.

Even if he eats dinner with his parents, he just takes a bite and list another thing about you that seems almost never ending. When his mother asks about his missing shirts, he tells them your struggling financially and needed it. That's when his mother and father knew he was completely infuriated with you.

...

Soon with his continuous rambling about you for days, John asks jack to bring you over, which his son immediately agreed to.

The moment you walked through the front door, with your fingers interlocked with Jack's and his son was blushing and flashing reassuring looks at you, they immediately know that their son is completely in love with you.

...

When the Marston's had dinner with you for the very first time, you were quite nervous. Your boyfriends parents asked questions about you that you never thought of before. Normally most things that would run through your head whenever you were not with jack was about your financial situation, you didn't have time to dilly-dally and ponder on useless things when you needed to feed yourself instead.

But alias, you tried to keep being respectful and speak whenever your spoken too. Both Abigail and John noticed how you mostly answered in one word answers, indicating you weren't too much of a talker. Your focus wasn't on the conversation, it was mostly on the food you were eating - Jack stated thousands of times he wasn't rich, but the food you were used to eating was nothing like this.

So, as an attempt to carry on the conversation with his parents, you mutter a compliment on the food. "Miss, Marston..uhm, you cook well." You stammered, you never realized until now how awkward you probably sounded at this moment.

Abigail was taken back for a moment before thanking you, she surprised you since her mannerisms and how she spoke was very comforting and warm. But the fact that your borrowing her son's clothes worried her deeply inside already despite not knowing you for long - she wondered how life at home for you was.

John also added to the conversation, almost most certain that your the one for his boy despite the fact he took a notice to your one worded answers, it reminded of one of his pals when he used to run in the gang and who helped him build this ranch couple years back before he moved up into Canada.

...

Recently after this whole encounter, you found yourself being invited more often to the ranch you visited not to long ago. Jack spoke about how his parents thought you were a good influence, how both took a liking to you and wanted you to come by more often.

You never expected yourself to make such an impression but you didn't argue when Jack basically dragged you back to his house.

With your constant arrivals to his house, you started to take notice how Abigail became a mother you never had. She taught you how to sew, cook new recipes and was always concerned about you, she would always offer food, clothes or ask if you wanted to spend the night. Afterall, she enjoyed spending time with you - she claimed, which was the truth. Abigail thought you were very sweet despite your rough upcoming and how you always tried to be polite to her or John even if it wasn't needed at times.

John was observant about you and your small mannerisms, how you polite towards him and his wife and how you were eager to learn new things whenever you were with Abigail. He asked you if you had anything else you liked to do, trying to not proceed in the topic of your backstory and you replied that you liked smoking a cigarette occasionally. After this whole encounter, he always buys you a freshly packed cigarettes that was your favorite brand and would invite you to come smoke with him on the porch as he would talk about his old stories about running in a gang - scolding you to not fall into the same path he once led.

Both of them became a fan of you and would always ask you if you wanted to stay the night, causing Jack to look so excited because he gets to spend more time with you. In most cases you would decline, but somehow you found yourself wrapped in heavy, warm blankets and in Jack's arms in his room as he would mutter sweet praises of how your a beauty.

Sometimes the couple would even find you and Jack wrapped up together on the couch after a long, tiring day when you guys would go out to travel the region - your head resting on his chest as his fingers were running through the strands of your hair and his legs tangled with yours. In most cases, Jack's hat would be covering your face when they find you two. They would never try to interrupt or make you guys wake up, only making small teasing comments as they leave the living room.

thank you so much for reading! please don't repost my work on any other platform, feel free to send any criticism! masterlist

[thepathwechooseif]

DEMO

In the English countryside in 1914, you live with your two children on your late husband’s grand estate. Two years have passed since the tragic sinking of the Titanic, from which you became a single parent.

Though surrounded by wealth and community, you remain lost in a fog of grief. But with the arrival of summer, the neighbouring family prepares to host their annual month-long house party. Your curious children persuade you to attend, hoping the festivities will lift your sorrow.

Lucas/Lucia Bertham, the family's charming heir, bonds with your children and seems to understand you in a way others cannot. But will secrets regarding their family's future prevent love?

Azra Hays arrives, a traveling storyteller with a gift for magic in their words that soothes your soul. Gardner Isaac Hill has loved you in silence, finding joy through your children's smiles.

More suitors await too - brilliant sculptor Zephyr Langston, whose art mirrors your heart, and Doctor Henry Bellman, who ministers to the people with patience and good humor.

As festivities crescendo with masques, fireworks and more, you start to believe in love and laughter again. But which person holds your whole heart? And will dark forces from the past destroy this new paradise you’ve begun to build?

The summer promises intrigue, blessings, and maybe a sweet romance if you can let go of history and embrace the gifts of tomorrow.

Customise your character as well as your children’s

Choose where you live and how you dress

Your choices have an impact on how society reacts to you!

Uncover secrets from your past!

Pursuing different ROs with varying levels of affection leads to unique story endings that resolve the mystery

Lucas/Lucia Bertham (m/f/nb)

The Heir, 26, Lucas/Lucia Bertham is the only child and heir to the prestigious title and lands of Bertham. They are a successful businessperson, but relish returning to their ancestral home each summer. While other young people prefer to travel abroad, they prefer the simple pleasures of country life. They take their duty as head of the manor seriously, helping tenants with an approachable demeanor. Though destined to marry well for station one day, they remain single and enjoy lively flirtations. While others dance at balls, they are the happiest hosting gatherings under the stars or riding alongside farm laborers by day. Lucas/Lucia lights up any room with their charm, wit and easy smiles. But is there a lonely heart searching for more beneath this carefree facade? As always, only time will tell what develops between Lucas/Lucia and you over the magical summer months at Bertham.

Isaac Hill(m)

The Gardner, 35, Isaac Hill has lived and worked on your estate for years. His strong, weather-worn hands coax beauty from the soil. Gardenings comes naturally to gentle-souled Isaac, as does his way with any creature in need of care. The expansive gardens are his pride and joy, a wonderland open for all to enjoy. Despite his huge build, muscular arms and calloused palms, his demeanor remains soft-spoken yet self-assured. While most village maidens sigh for officers or heirs, Isaac's gentle soul and way with children has turned many a head. But he remains devoted to coaxing new life from the earth, finding solace in small things. Perhaps amid the Bertham's blossoms, Isaac's own heart may bud anew this summer as well.

Zephyr Langston(m/f/nb)

The Sculptor, 27, Zephyr Langston hails from one of London's most prestigious arts families. Though young, their sculptures have already gained fame across England. While many London soirees vie for their presence, Zephyr relishes escaping to the countryside each summer. Using moody landscapes as inspiration, they work tirelessly to capture fleeting emotions in stone. Some say their sculptures are too sensually lifelike, but the Berthams proudly collect their edgy works. Zephyr charms salon attendees but remains unmarried, focused solely on their "passionate mistress," their art. Though prone to brooding moody spells while working, they come alive at parties with a playful wit. Could this summer be when they find inspiration of the heart as well as hands among the Bertham estate's rolling hills?

Henry Bellman(m)

The Doctor, 29, though young, he runs the village medical practice with a maturity beyond his years. What he lacks in words, Henry more than makes up for with his compassionate bedside manner. He listens with steady brown eyes that seem to see into patients' very souls. While others chat idly, Henry prefers observing life unfold with subtle calm. An avid reader, he's as learned as any university man but without pretense. More than one farmer's daughter has blushed starry-eyed receiving his attentions, yet he remains a bachelor focused solely on his work. The Berthams value Lucas greatly for his discretion and healing touch. But does his solemn façade hide deeper passions waiting to emerge? As always, only time will tell what mysteries lie beneath the calm exterior of Doctor Henry Bellman, and what intrigues he may stir in your heart this season.

Azra Hays(m/f/nb)

The Storyteller, 27, Azra Hays is a free spirit , with mischievous eyes like the summer sky. While others settle, Azra is happiest wandering the countryside in their worn boots, flute in hand.They’re a jack of all trades but lives for their art - spinning spellbinding tales that transport listeners far from their daily toils. With their easy smile and flirty manner, Azra charms all they meet. Yet beneath this bohemian exterior beats a kind and generous heart, always helping travelers in need. An orphan from youth, they never take their freedom or talents for granted. Azra makes their coin sharing folklore, gossip and bawdy jokes in villages along their route. But they save their most magical stories for moonlit campfires, weaving magic that leaves audiences in awe. Some say their nose for intrigue could even rival the Sherlock Holmes tales. Will Azra linger longer this year among Bertham's gardens and party revelries? Is there feeling breeding beyond friendship beneath Azra's roguish charm? As always, only time will tell the true depth of bonds woven beneath the summer stars.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Thanks to Curieously for finding this charming, colorful, 1914 cottage in Bisbee, Arizona. 3bds, 2ba, $425K. The home was painted by a local artist and the furnishings can be purchased separately.

So, if you buy the furnishings, the house is turn-key. The living room is cute, but I don't know if I like the high windows and being unable to see outside.

Love the kitchen. How colorful and adorable is this? And, it's big, too.

Look at the sweet original cabinet and pantry.

The primary bedroom is so colorful and cozy.

Look at the artwork. Such a cheery little house. And, there's a walk-in closet, also.

And, it has a colorful en-suite bath with lots of color. The bowl sink is beautiful, it looks like a sunburst.

The 2nd bedroom is so cute, too.

What a lovely dining area.

The 2nd bathroom has a beautiful tile shower.

The 3rd bedroom is also very pretty. The vintage linens in this home are wonderful.

A pretty path leads to the backyard.

There's a large deck in the back decorated so colorfully with a lovely shade tree on each side.

A small grassy area has a fun bench swing on the tree.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/313-Oak-Ave-Bisbee-AZ-85603/7389831_zpid/

[gicosmo]

Damn Those Marstons

Jack Marston x Fem!Reader.

Hey, RDR fans! I got into RDR2 a few months back and I literally binge watched play throughs of RDR1. This angsty idea for Jack popped up(because he can never be happy😔) and I just had to write it!

Synopsis: You’ve been with Jack for a few months now. When he asks you to meet his family, you would’ve never thought you would be meeting one of the two outlaws who killed your father.

Warnings: Takes place during RDR1(1914)(Jack is nineteen), alternate universe where the Marston family lives a bit longer lol, John uses his fake name ‘Jim Milton’, a little bit of arguing, just really sad angst.

“Can I tell you both somethin’?” Jack piped up at the dinner table, placing his spoon down into his bowl. Abigail and John immediately looked up at him, confusion written on both of their faces. It was pretty unusual for Jack to get all serious at random. Abigail nodded, “Of course. You can tell us anything, Jack.” She reached over, giving a gentle reassuring pat on his shoulder.

John remained quiet, observing his son. If anything, he was quite on edge, not wanting any bad news. Jack took a deep breath before a smile appeared on his face, “I’ve been seeing this lady. God— Ma, you’ll love her! She’s the sweetest, most loving lady you’ll meet.” Jack’s eyes sparkled as he went on a rant about his girlfriend. Abigail and John were shocked in the moment, but then proceeded to smile. They would be lying to themselves if they said they weren’t happy that Jack had finally found someone.

John chuckled as he looked at Abigail, “Looks like our boy is head over heels! When can we meet her, son?” Jack paused, thinking for a moment.

“How about tomorrow?” Jack answered, looking over at his mother, “If that’s okay with you, ma.”

Abigail laughed, nodding her head, “Of course it’s okay with me! I’ll cook a nice dinner for the four of us! I can’t wait to meet her.”

Jack was ecstatic! He was in his bed, looking up at the ceiling being unable to fall asleep. He couldn’t wait for you to meet his family. His mind was racing until he eventually tired himself out.

In the morning Jack was already at your front door. You opened it with a bright smile on your face, “Well I wasn’t expecting you today. Why do you have the dumb smile on your face? What are you planning?” You walked up to him, Jack leaning down to plant a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“I ain’t planning nothin’! Just… Will you come have dinner with my parents? Today?” Jack blurted out. It was evident he was pretty excited about this. You were taken aback by this. Dinner? With his parents?

You giggled sheepishly, “Geez, Jack. I wish you told me this sooner. I don’t think I got any nice clothes to give a good first impression…” Jack shook his head, grabbing your hands into his, “No need for fancy clothes no nothing. My parents don’t care about your wealth. They care about who you are.”

His words melted your heart. Jack bent down, pulling you in for a soft tender kiss. You always loved how gentle he was with you. Once he pulled away, you stepped back into your home, “Let me tell my mother i’ll be gone for a while. Mind waiting out here while I get ready?”

“Anything for you, darlin’.”

-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-

After getting ready, Jack helped you onto his horse and rode back to his home. The horse ride wasn’t silent what so ever as Jack couldn’t help but tell you how excited he was. All you could do was smile. It was nice seeing your lover get so excited about something.

Once you both arrive at Beechers Hope, he helped you off of the horse. He held your hand as you both walked up the step of his home. Abigail opened the door with a smile, “Why, hello! You must be the little lady Jack has been talking on and on about!” She walked up to you, giving you a friendly hug.

“Cmon now Ma— Don’t embarrass me like that…” Jack muttered, scratching his head and turning away out of embarrassment. Abigail rolled her eyes, “There’s nothing embarrassing about loving a lady! Now come on in! Dinner is almost ready!” She led you both inside the house, the scent of a good meal in the air.

“Where’s Pa?” Jack questioned, pulling a chair out for you to sit in. Abigail sighed and shrugged, “Joh— I mean, Jim went out a while ago. He said he’ll be back. He most definitely doesn’t want to miss out on this.” She reassured Jack.

Abigail sat down at the table with the both of you. She seemed like a lovely young woman. Sweet yet had a fierce aura to her. She questioned you about your home life, how you met Jack, all the basic questions a parent would ask their child’s lover.

You were honest with her. You told her how it was just you and your mother since your father was killed by some bad people when you were a kid. You spoke about how you only had some insight of two of the men who took your father’s life, hoping you wouldn’t run into them again. You spoke about how you met Jack while shopping for books, how the love for literature brought you both together.

Talking with Abigail felt so natural, both of you didn’t seem to notice someone enter the home. Jack smiled, “Took you long enough, sir.” You turned your head and immediately froze. All you could do was stare at the man with scars on his face.

“Took you long enough, Jim!” Abigail got up, gently slapping her husband’s arm. The man looked at you and smiled, “You must be the lovely lady Jack can’t shut up about! Nice to meet ya! I’m Jim. Jim Milton! You’ve already met Abigail…” You couldn’t hear his words anymore. Everything your boyfriend has told you was a lie.

There was no one named Jim Milton in this home. There wasn’t a Milton at all. The man in front of you was none other than John Marston. Jack wasn’t a Milton either. He was a Marston. They all were.

Your vision became blurry, your ears were ringing so loud. You couldn’t think straight. What could you do? What can you do?

You needed to leave.

“Hun? You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost…” You snapped back into reality as Jack held your hands gently, looking at you with concern. You gently pushed him away, shaking your head.

“I need to leave. Excuse me.” You pushed Jack out of the way, but he immediately grabbed your wrist. “Hey hey, what’s wrong? Did we do something? Did I do something?” Jack questioned, obviously really confused and concerned.

That’s when you just snapped. You couldn’t take the pain anymore.

“As a matter of fact you did do something. Marston.” You spat at him, Jack instantly taken aback by your outburst. Abigail gasped, her hands cupping over her mouth. John froze, if anything he was terrified at the fact that you knew who they were.

“Is this what people like you do, Marston!? You kill people who had families to go back to while you’re here living a great life with your family!?” You yelled at John. Jack glanced at his father, confused and utterly shocked.

Tears fell from your face as you shook your head, “You took my father from me. I was just a kid… How come you can live your best life, seeing your child grow up… But my father can’t?” You looked at all three of them before looking at Jack,

“I can’t be with the son of an outlaw. Especially to the outlaw that took my father’s life,” You looked back at John and Abigail, “If you’re worried about me telling others about where you live, don’t. I get nothing out of revenge. Just know that your actions will catch up to you. You can never leave your old life to live a new. It happened to my father, it will happen to you.”

You walked towards the front door, “I hope you all enjoy your lives. Goodbye.” With that, you left the home. You heard the front door swing up, footsteps rushing towards you. Turning around, it was Jack.

“Darlin’! Please, don’t leave. Look, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I know my Pa has done some horrible things— But I swear he’s a changed man!” Jack pulled you into an embrace, “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in so long. I— I love you…”

Jack’s words were sincere. They really were. But you couldn’t shake the disgusting feeling off of you. You gently pushed him off from you,

“Jack. I love you— Well… I loved you too. But I know my father would be rolling in his grave knowing I was dating the son of the man who killed him.”

Jack’s heart sunk. He couldn’t do anything but watch you walk away. What can he even say? It wasn’t long until John came out to check up on his son.

John reached down to place a hand on Jack’s shoulder, immediately getting rejected by him. Jack glared at his father, “Damnit old man, You’ve made my life a living hell. I can forgive you for so many other things you’ve done. But this? I don’t know if I can.”

Jack bumped his father’s shoulder as he walked back into the house. Abigail tried to comfort him, but he immediately shut that down. John and Abigail had a lot to talk about.

It took you a long while to get back home. Your mother greeted you with a loving smile, but all you could do was cry in her arms. She didn’t question nor judge you, she did what a mother does best and held you. Telling you it was going to be okay.

Damn those Marstons.

Damn that sweet loving boy you fell in love with.

And damn your heart for still loving him.

[scotianostra]

Charles Hamilton Sorley was born in Aberdeen on May 19th 1895, he became a soldier and lay dead in a field in France in his 20th year.

The son of a William Ritchie Sorley, a professor of moral philosophy, Charles was a precocious and academically gifted child. The family moved to Cambridge when he was five, and Sorley attended King’s College choir school and Marlborough College, with some study in Germany. He began publishing poetry in the school journal and won a scholarship to University College, Oxford. Sorley was in Germany in 1914 when World War I broke out, and he was interned for one night in prison at Trier.

Making his way back home, he enlisted in the Army and served in the trenches in France. Sorley was killed in action near Hulloch during the Battle of Loos, on 13th October 1915, shot in the head by a sniper. His last poem, When You See Millions of the Mouthless Dead, was found in his kitbag, it is a heart-breaking piece of prose, and I admit the first time I read it in 2012 it brought a tear to my eye.

A collection of Sorley’s poetry was published posthumously as Marlborough and other Poems and went through six editions in the first year. Because of his time in Germany, Sorley’s attitude toward the war was deeply conflicted from its start. His small body of poetry is ambivalent, ironic, and profound. Sorley has been described as “one of the three poets of importance killed during the war,” the others being Wilfred Owen and Isaac Rosenberg. His other works include The Collected Poems of Charles Hamilton Sorley.

Such, Such Is Death.

Such, such is Death: no triumph: no defeat: Only an empty pail, a slate rubbed clean, A merciful putting away of what has been.

And this we know: Death is not Life, effete, Life crushed, the broken pail. We who have seen So marvellous things know well the end not yet.

Victor and vanquished are a-one in death: Coward and brave: friend, foe. Ghosts do not say, "Come, what was your record when you drew breath?" But a big blot has hid each yesterday So poor, so manifestly incomplete. And your bright Promise, withered long and sped, Is touched, stirs, rises, opens and grows sweet And blossoms and is you, when you are dead.

[saintsir4n]

19

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF WAR

1914

"YOU'VE got a what?" Finn asked, the expecting couple.

Isaiah's gasped, "In where?"

Days had passed since the celebratory drink in honour of another Shelby baby and the boys were still confused about all of it, so Tommy and Eden pulled them aside from their learnings to explain as much as possible, considering he and his brothers would be leaving in very soon.

"How is a baby in there?" Isaiah turned to his best friend.

"Sex," Finn answered, despite not knowing what he was saying.

The couple looks at each other in shock watching the two interact.

"How does he..." Eden was too stunned so Tommy took over.

"Boys, Eden's got a baby in her tummy, just like Martha did –"

"-- she might again," Eden mumbled, luckily only Tommy heard but she gave him an 'I'll tell you later' look and he continued.

"The baby will come when I'm not here, so you two need to be on your best behaviour," Tommy instructed, leaning down as they stared up at him with their innocent faces, "no messin' around, no gettin' on her nerves, just be good, alright?"

His words went straight over their heads, "Does that mean I still get sweets?" Finn asked no one in particular.

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose, "Finn you've been told you're gonna be an uncle for the second time and you're worrying about sweets."

The Shelby boy awaited an answer.

"Yes, you'll get sweets Finny and another niece," Eden reassured him.

His brows pinched together, "What's that?"

Finn understood that he was an uncle but nothing more than that.

"Is it a girl?" Isaiah questioned, folding his arms, when he received a nod, the boys exchanged grimaces, "Ewww."

Immediately they ran off and went back to their books, leaving the couple alone.

"What the fuck?" Eden blinked rapidly.

Tommy took her hand, before palming her stomach once again.

"Now that's done, let's go," he said, nodding to the basket on the floor.

"But what's up with 'em?"

"Fuck knows."

__

Two days, the lads were leaving in two days. Tommy's heart hammered in his chest at the thought, nevertheless, he promised Eden a perfect day, filled with chocolate slices, sandwiches and a flask of tea. She wore the sweetest frock she could dig out of her closet, it was cheery red, matching the colour of her lips. He adorned a crease-free shirt which was concealed by his favourite navy blue jumper, his shoes were polished, and the gifted horseshoe and box were in his slacks.

Despite not carrying his gun with him, he decided the blades in his cap would suffice and along with the knife he knew that clung to Eden's thigh, they would be safe.

They rode Shadow once again, this time Eden was much more relaxed and free, the light wind combed through Tommy's hair and luckily didn't move a strand of hers, being that she styled it into a low bun.

After tying the horse to a nearby tree, they found the spot overlooked the city, allowing them to spread out the blanket and sit down, basking in the heat.

The sun felt like hot kisses against Eden's skin, leaving her with tints of amber, drawing Tommy's attention as he pulled out all the food he'd spent making up that morning. She was everything he dreamt of and more, the very thing that he yearned for in both body and spirit, she challenged him in ways he hated to love and often drove him to madness, but brought him back with only the right sequence of words. Eden bloody Dawkins, she was his home.

"What?" she felt his stare.

Tommy simply cocked his head to the side, raising his brow at her as a smile tugged at his lips.

"Aren't I simply a dream Tom?" she teased, winking at the man.

"That you are my love."

Eden bashfully laughed at his response and started to dig into the spread, she carved anything and everything, the previous night she'd woken up Tommy so he could make her some rose tea, he didn't have a clue of what she was on about and cautiously told his aunt about it. Polly wasn't pleased with being pulled out of her slumber but aided him anyway.

"How's the little one treatin' ya?" he gently palmed the slight swell of her stomach.

"Can't feel much, bumps don't show properly for another two months," when you're away, she wanted to add, but decided not to, "nausea's died down for now."

"Can see that," he nodded to a half-eaten sandwich in her hand, making her snort.

"And you can say it's a girl, Tom unless you don't believe your aunt," she gave him a pointed look.

"I believe her, things might change, just being realistic."

"'Cause you want a boy?"

"Did I say that?" his hand didn't leave her stomach as he picked up the flask.

"Y'know she's a girl, so you're not havin' a peaky blinder," she narrowed her eyes at him, "but by the grace of god, we have a boy he ain't becomin' a blinder Thomas alright? Promise me." he shrugged, making her hit his forehead, "You promised a perfect day so promise me."

He nodded after gulping down some tea, "Alright, I promise... if it's a boy he ain't becoming a blinder," he paused, "I'll make sure he goes to London and becomes one of those established toffs."

She scrunched up her face, "Ugh, I think I'd prefer a blinder."

They both started to laugh, but in truth wanted a bright future for their child, their children, not wanting them to be subjected to the same misfortunes they inherited, but it was a lot to ask for, let alone dream about. Money could change a lot, but it couldn't change blood.

"You thought of any names?" she asked, as he rested his head in her lap.

His eyes fluttered shut, "A few."

She gently patted him, "Spill."

He inhaled sharply, "It's a lot to ask..."

"Go on."

"Somethin' to do with my mum," his reply had her intrigued.

"Mara Shelby," he stiffly nodded at her mention, "it's a pretty name," she said smiling.

"Esme too," he added, recalling how he and John were up a couple of nights ago talking about it. Arthur joined in, and so did Ada before they passed out in the front room.

"Esmerelda," she liked how it rolled off her tongue.

He chuckled before saying the next, "Pollyanna, but don't tell Pol 'bout that."

"Secret safe with me," she giggled.

"You thought of any?"

"Nothing's come to mind, none have felt right, my mum told me that she spent months thinkin' of what to call me and then changed her mind on the day," she said, combing her hand through his thick locks.

"Really?"

"Yeah, spontaneous thing right?"

"Sounds it," as a man who made part of their child, he didn't want to influence Eden too much with the name of the baby, but the fact she was taking his input made him grateful.

"Just picturing the little girl, runnin' 'round, with a dog chasing her..." her eyes fluttered shut at the image.

"A dog, what one?" he questioned, envisioning the image also, it made his heart swell.

"Bullmastiff," she breathed out.

His eyes fluttered open. "Those big dogs?"

"Yeah, family dogs apparently, but can be brutal when needs be," she continued with the vision, believing it would be the perfect addition to the home they already dreamt of.

"Ballmastiff it is, anything else Mrs Shelby?" and with that question her eyes snapped open, glancing down at the smirking man.

She swallowed the lump at the back of her throat, "Not Mrs. Shelby yet, haven't even popped the question."

"That's true," Tommy sat up, then rose on one knee, rendering Eden to softly chuckle behind her shaking hand, "Now, I was gonna do this a while ago, back when I got permission from your parents. And yes even your dad gave me 'is blessin', a shock to me and all, but I promised I wasn't gonna fuck this up, and I'm not am I?"

"No, you aren't, keep it up."

"Been thinkin' of all the ways I was gonna ask you this, dreamin', talkin' talk my self 'bout how I was gonna ask you to be my wife, did it so often Pol thought 'bout 'avin' me admitted," a teary laugh escaped her at his confession. "So I thought what would my Edie do when she's stuck? She'd write it down wouldn't ya love?"

"I would," she admitted.

"But I couldn't do that," he jokily tutted, making her laugh even more, "I scrapped the paper and thought speakin' from the heart was better, even though I think I'm doin' a crap job at it, but you're smilin'" her smile reached her teary eyes, making his heart hammer once more, "best smile I've ever seen, the brightest too," his voice cracked slightly, "and a great woman once said 'you have to be a bright ball of fire to be seen' and I've never not seen you, Eden. You're everything to me, my bright ball of hope, Christ how sappy is that?"

"Keep goin'" She softly nudged him, despite her tears.

"Oh right," he reached into his back pocket, "even before that little one starting growin' inside you, I was gonna propose. We speak about the future and mine wouldn't be right — it couldn't be without you in it. You've always been in it, so Eden Mary Dawkins would you –"

"Yes," she practically fell into his arms, covering his face with kisses.

"Darlin' I 'aven't shown you the ring yet or properly asked the question."

"Fine, ask me," she playfully rolled her eyes, not letting go of him.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes, it was always gonna be yes," she exclaimed.

An uncharacteristically wide smile broke out on his face as he produced a small box, but that didn't stop her from kissing him and he immediately kissed back, flooding her with feelings that burst through his chest and she did the same, swirling his mouth with the joy that took over her.

Pulling away, he presented her with a ring, that she squealed out, much to his shock, sure it shone in the sunlight, but he didn't think it was much, in honesty he thought she would hate it, but it was the best he could do.

"Brought it for cheap, don't be mad," he said, settling down onto the blanket again.

Her brows furrowed slightly, "And why would I be mad?"

"You deserved better."

"It's perfect," she wasted no more time and slid it onto her finger.

She even laughed when he fitted his cap onto her head.

My secret blinder, he thought.

She wouldn't stop looking at the ring, so he took his time to speak again, "I want us to have the best weddin', but can't do it now only when I come back, so promise me you'll tell people we're married."

"For protection?..."

"Exactly, protection, our little Shelby needs it, just like you," he and his family agreed to it as well, making sure to spread the word that they'd wed, so no one questioned it. Even asking Jeremiah to pretend he performed the ceremony and Polly to put together a fake marriage certificate.

"'Course," she smiled at him, watching as he slipped on a wedding band of his own. "Should we make up our own vows then?"

"If you want," he couldn't stop smiling.

"Well, I... promise to be loyal to you, always, mind body and soul."

He let out a nervous chuckle, "Not to love ey?"

"You can love someone and hurt 'em right?" she blurted out, eyes widening at the words she spoke. It was out of experience she wanted to be cautious, she loved Tommy and he loved her, but the future they planned wouldn't be plane sailing. "I promise to always love you, also, but loyalty, our loyalty to each other can't be brought, or made, it was always there, alright?"

Tommy couldn't disagree despite himself.

"I promise to be loyal to you, always, mind body and soul."

They sealed that vow with a kiss, arguably far more meaningful and sacred than the last.

The sun brightened, bearing witness to the faux wedding, shining down on their rings with its harsh rays, before Tommy turned to whisper something to her bump, putting on voices for his daughter to hear, making his fiancé laugh at his utter foolishness as she ran her fingers through his hair. Thirty weeks left of her pregnancy to go and Tommy had to make the most of this moment, imagining what their child would look like before she popped out.

He was about to go through the flames of war, but right now all he could think of was his family, and how he would make sure to cherish them, despite how little time he had.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

a/n:

for a while, i was trying to figure out how far along eden is and she's roughly two months pregnant, give or take a week.

we all know when it comes to tommy loyalty is more vital than love, merely because he's committed atrocities in the name of love and family, so he's really not one to be trusted.

how did you find this chapter? the proposal? the happiness between teden?

next time chapter will be the last before the epilogue and bonus chapter, guys so might want to bring some tissues.

[stardust-swan]

How to Be a Real Life Mermaid 🌊🧜‍♀️🐚

The Look

🐚 Wear sea foam green, aquamarine, teal, ocean blue, soft grey, lilac, periwinkle, emerald, pale gold, white, deep blue, and turquoise

🐚 Pick flowy fabrics such as taffeta, chiffon, linen, silk, muslin, and sequined fabrics that resemble fish scales

🐚 Choose garments like maxi dresses, flowy skirts, bandeau off-the-shoulder tops, tank tops, soft scarves used as tops, shell clutches, woven bags, and pretty beaded sandals

🐚 Accessorise with jewellery made from pearls, sea glass, seashells, turquoise, aquamarine, opals, gold that resembles the sun glinting on the sea, and silver that reminds one of the metallic sheen of fish scales. Examples of accessories you can wear are bangles, anklets, layered necklaces, and pearl earrings

🐚 Makeup Ideas: eyeshadow in nudes like a sandy beach, greens and blues like the sea, or lavender and pink like a coral reef, shimmery highlight, dewy skin, coral pink lipstick, and seashell pink lipgloss

🐚 Hair Ideas: loose curls that look like ocean waves, fishtail plaits, green and blue hair dye, pearl hairclips, and sea salt hairspray. Brush your hair with a pretty wide-tooth comb.

The Lifestyle

🐚 Listen to songs such as Martha's Harbour by All About Eve, No Ordinary Love by Sade, Come Into the Water by Mitski, Pearl Diver by Mitski, Mariners Apartment Complex by Lana Del Rey, and Call of the Sea by Claudie Mackula (a longer mermaid playlist is here).

🐚 You can also listen to the sounds of the ocean, like whale song or waves crashing on the beach

🐚 Watch movies and TV shows such as Aquamarine, Splash, The Little Mermaid, H20: Just Add Water, Mr Peabody and the Mermaid, Miranda (1948), Mermaid Melody Pitchi Pitchi, Ponyo, Barbie in a Mermaid Tale, Barbie: The Pearl Princess, Neptune's Daughter (1914), A Daughter of the Gods (1916), Queen of the Sea (1918), Venus of the South Seas (1924), and Magic Island (1995)

🐚 Read books, fairytales, and poems such as The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen, The Mermaid Handbook by Carolyn Turgeon, Mermaids: The Myths, Legends, and Lore by Skye Alexander, A Daughter of the Sea by Amy Le Feuvre, Undine by Friedrich de la Motte Fouqué, The Mermaid by Alfred Lord Tennyson, and The Sea-Child by Katherine Mansfield

🐚 Mermaids are renowned for their beautiful siren song, so sing sweetly and brightly as often as you feel like it

🐚 Make your self smell like the ocean by using a deodorant like Old Spice Deep Sea, and perfumes like L by Lolita Lempicka, Acqua di Gioia, Salt Air by Skylar, Fleur de Corail by Lolita Lempicka, Seahorse by Zoologist, Nymphéas by Kismet Olfactive, Salina by Laborattorio Olfattivo, Alien Mirage by Mugler, Very Sexy Sea by Victoria's Secret, 20,000 Flowers Under the Sea by Tokyomilk, Nebbia Spessa by Filippo Sorcinelli, Tiziana Terenzi's Sea Stars Collection, Chant d'Extase by Nina Ricci, Sirena by Floris, Squid by Zoologist, and Orto Parisi Megamare (be aware that the latter two suit a dark siren who lures men to their deaths more than a sweet mermaid princess).

🐚 Make your home smell like the deep sea too, with sea salt scented diffusers and candles such as Yankee Candle Sea Minerals, Yankee Candle Seaside Woods, or Jo Malone Wood Sage and Sea Salt

🐚 Home Decor Ideas: silk sheets in blue, grey, and sea green, seashell jewellery trays, homemade terrariums, jellyfish embroidery, seashell candles, beaded curtains made from string and shells, paintings of maritime scenes, glass vases filled with layers of sand, seashells, and faux pearls, seashell shaped soap dishes, rattan furniture, woven baskets, treasure chests to keep your valuables in, mermaid figurines, a seashell or jellyfish mobile, a bowl filled with seashells, a glass bottle filled with ocean water or with a love letter inside to replicate a message in a bottle, mosaics with marine motifs like seahorses and shells, even an aquarium with colourful fish if you are able to care for them

🐚 Spend lots of time around near bodies of water, swimming in it to connect with your inner mermaid, or just walking in it and feeling the sand beneath your feet

🐚 Collect seashells and pretty pieces of sea glass thar wash up on the shore

🐚 Watch synchronised swimming, or even learn it yourself

🐚 Go diving, snorkeling, or mermaiding

🐚 Visit aquariums to see beautiful exotic fish and learn more about the ocean

🐚 Do your best to be sustainable; make the world a cleaner place for your fishy friends to live in. If possible, attend a beach clean-up group local to your area to help pick up litter

🐚 Carry a haircomb and hand mirror with you at all times (you can hotglue seashells and faux pearls on the back of the mirror to make it even more like a mermaid's treasure)

🐚 Watch documentaries and read books on the ocean, marine life, and nautical myths and legends

🐚 Enjoy snacking on seaweed soup, coconut water, and Guylian seashell chocolates

🐚 Take luxurious baths with dead sea salt, seaweed masks, small white bath bombs that resemble pearls, a coconut scented candle, and calming music

[justrainandcoffee]

Vendetta is not over (Luca Changretta x fem!oc)

Part 1: Ada Shelby.

And there's only two left.

Masterlist - Prologue

Summary: Almost 25 years ago, a black woman visited the Garrison. She was Luca Changretta's wife. Arthur Shelby remember that day very well because from that moment he lived his days thinking about her and the promise of death. He knew that she wasn't lying. Those black eyes... No matter what Tommy says. Vendetta is coming for them. Killed, one by one. And the first one is his sister Ada.

Warnings: Murder.|| Finn died in the second world war.

Words: 2.5k

1950

Mr. Changretta for his men. Just The Musician for the outsiders. That was his nickname, because the young man was a talented saxophonist. His mother, people said, was an extraordinary singer. Both passionate about jazz and blues. When he was a kid and accompanied her to her shows he always wanted to play an instrument and at the age of nine, his mother bought him his first saxophone and took classes with a prestigious friend of hers. Over a decade later the kid, now a man, was still playing music as a hobby.

His work was one very different.

The Musician's slender fingers, touched his sax the same way he pulled the trigger. With extraordinary precision.

"Don't give these bastards a second chance, Fabrizio."

"No, Mr. Changretta."

"Good boy, Fabrizio."

The Musician let out a sight before lit a cigarette. The lighter illuminated his face a brief second. His new white shirt was the only thing visible in that almost dark room. His skin was dark, same as his mother, he's tall -really tall- and thin. He never knew his father, but his mother always said to him that Luca was equally elegant as he was.

The Musician had a mission.

Kill the Shelbys.

One was dead. Sadly. The less important. The youngest one perished in war. His source in England told him that the news were devastated for the once numerous clan.

The Musician had three names now. Ada Thorne, Thomas Shelby and especially: Arthur Shelby.

His mother was against of killing a woman, but it just happened that Ada Thorne wasn't just a woman. She was the head of the Shelby company. And despite she was over 50 years old, Ada Thorne was dangerous like her brothers.

The Musician knew that her son was now living in France. Karl Thorne was a collage teacher but had no contact with his mother. His half sister was there in New York, married to a man and pregnant of her first child. Elizabeth Younger was a beautiful black woman a bit younger than him.

As far as the Musician knew, John Shelby's children were dispersed around Great Britain, minding their own business. Raised by Esme Lee, the once kids, grew up far away from the Shelbys business. Same as Billy Shelby, Arthur's son, who was now a priest something that Linda was proud about.

The cigarette smoke helped to create a mysterious atmosphere around him. Augustus Caesar Changretta, also known as, The Musician, smiled.

He had to go home. His wife was waiting for him. His beautiful, beautiful… Elizabeth Younger.

He loved her. She's sweet and tender. For her, he was just a saxophonist. A saxophonist named Caesar Young, his mother's last name. 'Ces', for her.

Little Elizabeth knew, that her husband was about to kill her mother, Ada Thorne.

The war is part of the past. For almost five years now.

Arthur left the cemetery. Finn Shelby didn't survive the battle. Being too young between 1914 and 1918, the boy didn't know about the horrors that him, Tommy and John had to witnessed.

"He was forced to kill for the Peaky Blinders, it's the same" his mind said to him.

Arthur tried to ignore that voice. He didn't expected another war two decades later, but humanity never learn. So, Finn went to fight for his country. Like millions of men. Like many other millions, Finn returned inside a coffin.

Of five Shelby siblings only three remained alive. He saw his face reflected on a window. He was old now. Finn was a still a young man. Poor Mary and the kids.

Lizzie left Tommy, Linda left him, Esme and Mary left the family. Freddie died ages ago. Love and Shelby apparently weren't compatible.

Arthur planned to go to London to see Ada. Maybe the next day, now he needed to rest.

On the corner of the street, he saw a young handsome black man. He was playing the saxophone for some pennies. He was really good.

The blood of Luca Changretta will chase you.

Those words returned to his mind. Changretta's wife warned them about a black man, Luca's son, seeking to revenge his father. Adelina was her name? Alina?

Aveline.

Aveline Changretta. The tall and beautiful black woman. The one who swore that Vendetta wasn't over.

For a moment the saxophonist and Arthur stared at each other. If it wasn't because he was playing the instrument, Arthur could've sworn that the young man was smirking.

_

"It was him, brother. It was him."

Arthur was in front of Tommy. Both men now had grey hair and wrinkles on their faces. Arthur was 62 years old now and Thomas, 60.

"You don't know that, Arthur. World is full of black men."

"I fookin' know! Why don't ya believe me?"

"You've been paranoid about a black kid the last 20 years or more, Arthur. Nothing happened, eh? We're still here. People always threatened us, no one succeeded."

"No one of those were a black woman with cold eyes talking about Changretta like that, either. Tommy…"

"Arthur, stop! I'm busy! That life it's part of our past. Women are impulsive, maybe she forgot. Maybe she married another man and have other kids. When back then I sent people to investigate, they found nothing. So, calm down!"

"Ya are underestimating this, Tom. Don't tell me I didn't warn ya. I'm goin' to visit Ada tomorrow."

"Ok. Maybe a a little trip will help you to think something different. London is full of black men, don't think that evry single one of them is his son."

Arthur didn't respond. He knew that Tommy was pretending that nothing of his past happened. He was a member of the parliament and wanted to be Prime Minister. He was a busy man. But the things they did… Arthur left his brother's office and went to the streets again. That corner where he saw the saxophonist, was now empty.

"I wish I'd be there with you," Elizabeth said. "I miss England. Isn't a coincidence that you have the opportunity to go there, Ces?"

The Musician was in his hotel bedroom speaking with his wife by phone. On the table was a gun and several bullets.

"It's a coincidence, my dear. But planes aren't safe for pregnant women. The air pressure…but I'll be back soon."

"Will you go to visit mom? I can call her and tell her about it."

"I don't know if I'll have time, Liz. But if I can, I'm going to pay a visit to her. I need to know my mother-in-law, sooner or later, after all."

"She's nice, Ces. People say that she's severe and some fear her, but she's nice. Don't ask Karl, tho. Their relationship is quite different."

"I'm sure of it. I'm going to sleep, Liz. It's late here. Love you."

"Bye, Ces. Rest well."

He hanged the phone and stared at his reflection on the mirror.

"I'm already planning to visit your mother, my dear," he thought.

It happened that the first time visiting his mother-in-law, it was going to be the last time, too.

The Musician smiled.

Arthur went to London the next day as he had planned. Good thing about cars now that they increased their speed considerably. Their old cars from decades ago had nothing to do with those made after the second war.

God bless the 50s.

London was the same as ever. Chaotic, noisy, polluted. People barely paying attention at those in front of their noses. Men reading newspapers sitting in benches, women walking their dogs, kids running…

Ada lived in a new house. This one was smallest than the previous one considering that she lived alone there. No one of her children were there anymore. Sweet Elizabeth even was pregnant. When Arthur knew the good news was extremely surprised. Where time went? Ada was about to be grandmother? How old was he, then?

Arthur knocked on her door and his sister opened. He always had a soft spot for her, she was still the little girl who was born in that old house in Watery Lane.

Arthur also noticed how small was his family now. There was a time where it was easy to mistake Karl and John's kids when all of them were running around. Arthur didn't know where they were. Fuck, he didn't even know where his son was, only he was a priest.

All of them put distance between them and their fathers. And mother.

Who could blame them? They killed. They tortured.

"Arthur!" Ada's voice brought him back again to reality.

"Ada."

"Get in. I just finished a call with Tommy. Same as ever."

"Yes. I know. He's just too old now to change."

"Talk to me about that," she said closing the door behind her.

Arthur never noticed that a black car was following him from the moment he left Birmingham. He never never noticed that a young man was standing in front of Ada's house. Neither did she. Far away in time were those days where she was hyper alert about everything and everyone around her around her.

The Musician felt his heart beating fast. But he was a patient man. If his mother was capable of waiting 25 years for this moment, he could wait a couple of hours.

.

"Are you sure?" Ada asked when at night Arthur was ready to leave her house after spending there the whole afternoon.

"Yeah. I need few drinks and then I'm going back home. Good to see ya, Ada."

"Same, Arthur. Take care right? Don't do nothing stupid."

"I'll be fine," he said hugging her for the last time.

One more hour passed. Arthur was in a pub very similar to the Garrison he owned once. The tv there was showing a contest show. Three men and a woman were participating. But he wasn't paying attention, he was thinking about other things.

"The blood of Luca Changretta will chase you."

Why was he so obsessed with it?

The black saxophonist. He couldn't stop thinking about him, even when he had seen plenty of street musicians before.

Aveline Changretta was in his mind. Smiling at him. And so was Luca. He could see the Italian man so clear like he was right in front of his eyes.

Vendetta.

Ada was in her car. She was looking for some papers she had forgotten inside it. The street was empty but the lights inside the people's houses were on. Families at that time used to enjoy tv programmes or they just were reunited to listen to the radio.

"Ada Thorne?"

A deep male voice made her shiver. And Ada was a woman who feared nothing. Through the opposite car window he could see a black man wearing a hat. He was smartly dress.

"Can I help you?" Under her car seat was a gun. She just needed to extend her arm and grabbed it.

"No. I'm just here because my father was killed by your brothers, long time ago. I just wanted tell you why I'm going to kill you…"

.

A woman occupied the seat next to his in that pub and asked for a Martini. Arthur didn't look at her, until her black hand brushed his. Arthur looked at her and his heart stopped.

"Hello, Mr. Shelby. So long… how are you?"

"The fook are ya' doing here?"

"Enjoying the night, like any other person."

Aveline smiled but Arthur didn't. She looked older, clearly the time passed for everyone, but she was still beautiful. Arthur remembered that she was tall but not that tall. Her lips were red as her dress. A white fur coat was over her shoulders.

"How life treated you, Mr. Shelby?"

Arthur didn't respond. He was staring at her, trying to read her thoughts, but Aveline was just smiling.

"I'm good," she continued "I kept singing, I learnt to play the piano… I raised my child…"

.

Bang. Bang

Two shots and Ada Thorne was part of the past now. She had time to grabbed her gun, but The Musician was faster.

He put a match in the fuel tank. The car started to burn immediately. When the neighbours could understand what was going on and go out, The Musician wasn't there anymore. But they saw a shadow.

In that street, in front of that white house, a car was burning and inside it was the only Shelby sister. Dead.

.

"It's a beautiful night, Mr. Shelby," Aveline said. "In other times, I used to go out and sing in front of a bonfire. By the way, Arthur… how is your sister Ada?"

Her smile was tremulous. Arthur stood up immediately. His brain was screaming Ada's name.

"Fook ya! Fook ya, ya bitch!"

No one listened to the conversation. The only certain thing was that people at the bar just saw a white man yelling at a black woman sitting there.

Aveline looked at Arthur ran out. There was a ghost of smile on her face.

Next day was a nightmare. Tommy went to London as soon as he knew what happened.

Police was asking them about the night before. Tommy was far way. But Arthur… As far as the police knew, Arthur was the last person who saw her alive.

"I didn't kill my fookin' sister!"

"Easy, Mr. Shelby. No one is blaming you," the detective in front of him was a black man in his forties. "You say a black woman is behind this?"

"She is! She fooking is!"

"But you don't have any proof. And witnesses say that you yelled at black woman last night."

"Are ya implying that I'm a fooking racist?! My sister is dead and ya say I'm a racist!!" Arthur stood up abruptly.

"I didn't say it. And please calm down or I'm going to arrest you."

"Fook ya," he said once last time.

One hour later, the detective ended the questions and finally they let him go. Still, he was a suspect.

Tommy was at Ada's house when Arthur returned. As always, his brother didn't express any emotions and that was what Arthur found more annoying. Their sister had been killed like a dog, or worse, and he was there cold as ice.

"What do you want me to do, eh? Scream at a police officer? Yell at God? To throw a tantrum?"

"I fookin told ya! I fookin told ya! The Changrettas! I saw her fookin last night! And now Ada's dead!"

"I heard you insulted a black woman. It's the only thing I know."

"You too? Ya fookin' too!! It was her, Tom! It was his wife!"

Tommy lit a cigarette and sat down in Ada's sofa. She was in the morgue now. Once the autopsy was over, police will give them her body.

"I called the cemetery," Tommy said "we're going to bury her in a good spot. There are trees there."

Arthur was crying.

"After the funeral I'm going to make some calls and see if there's a place where Mrs. Young is staying. Hard, considering her last name is quite common."

Tommy stood up again and patted his brother shoulder before going to Ada's office searching one of her bottles of whiskey.

Alone in that room, the man made of ice, cried too.

.

Very few people went to her funeral, three days later. Karl's flight landed that very day and for the first time in years he saw his uncles. Neither of them talked to each other and after it, Karl left England this time forever.

Police didn't have any news and Arthur was still the main suspect, but they didn't have any proof. And the black woman Arthur talked about was nowhere to be found.

Tommy knew he needed to focus but he was tired. The last person who deserved to die was Ada. She wasn't part of the business like the rest of the Shelbys. But her last name…

A vinyl record was over his table when Thomas Shelby arrived from the cemetery. Nothing but the silence received him. His mind was still processing the death of his sister. Tommy could read the legend:

"Mafia Records. Black Hand vol I"

There was a short message next to it "listen to me."

Tommy put the vinyl on his record player.

He could hear a soft music and a female voice humming. Then, she started singing. Her voice was indeed beautiful… except for the lyrics:

"Thomas Shelby, Thomas Shelby… are you there?

Thomas Shelby, Thomas Shelby… you're next."

[from1837to1945]

Henry Walthall in The Wanderer (1913, D.W. Griffith) and Home, Sweet Home (1914, D.W. Griffith)

[smolvenger]

Miss Narracott and The Captain Part Five (Cpn. James Nicholls x fem! Reader miniseries)

Fandom: War Horse

Word Count: 6K

Chapter Warnings: Angst and fluff. Pining. Drunkenness. Mentions of sex but no smut. Inspiration from Jane Austen and Little Women. Attempts at historic accuracy. I choose violence at the end.

Series Summary: It is 1912-1914. You are Y/N Narracott, the older sister of Albert Narracott. You must do what you can so your family can keep their farm. And so your brother can keep his beloved horse. Under financial struggles, you never expect romance to come into your life...until you have a chance encounter with James Nicholls- a Captain with a knack for drawing. But the threat of war lingers in the air...

Part One//Part Two//Part Three//Part Four//Part Five//Part Six Coming Soon!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

A/N: Comments, Reblogs, DMs, and Asks about my work are always appreciated! I always love doing period pieces like this! Feel free to ask to be tagged in this and/or my other stuff! Thank you!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract

@eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @infinitystoner @12-pm-510

He offered you to sit down at the table. Once you had, he took the place across from you.

“Why do you wish to speak to me alone, Mr. Lyons?" you asked.

He rubbed his hands together. Then he began.

"Miss Narracott, I have taken notice of you these past two years. Despite the low station of your family, you impressed me. Your sweet nature, work ethic, good sense, and pretty face. All admirable. However, your father is unable to provide for his own family. Or afford his own farm. You are trapped by a family that cannot provide for themselves, or you. But…there is a solution a compromise, if you will."

You folded your hands on the table. Looking right at him. Trying to see if your heart would stop in its place. You could attest truth in some of his words. Right now, bad luck took away your cash crop. Ruined crops meant no rent. The eggs, the milk, and your wages could only cover so much. You could sell the animals as a last resort. Though not Joey, it would break your brother's heart too much.

You knew where this was headed.

He looked around at this place. Though your family rented it, it was truly he who owned it. He owned the stone walls. The staircase. The windows you looked out so many times. The sink. The doors. He even tried to own Joey. And now you were only more thing he was trying to add to his collection of ownership.

But this house! So familiar and safe to you! It was filled with so many things that made it a home. Your embroidery with flowers and sentences sewed in hung on the walls. On the fireplace mantle was a clock Dad loved to polish. Mum’s pans hung over your head in the kitchen. The seats and fireplace could make a cold winter's night cozy. At this very table, you would gather to eat, read, sew, have cups of tea, and live. And now, all of that had to be packed up and squished to move to your uncles. Or sold one by one to make ends meet. To buy time for the plants to grow. Or until you all had to beg.

It was dark inside. It was the late shine of afternoon becoming evening, but still bright. But the stone walls blocked the sunlight.

It was summer after all. And it mocked you in its sunshine and youthful joy outside. You heard the chickens clucking and Joey's hooves trotting about without a care in the world.  Unlike you.

“Sir, you are proposing marriage to me,” you said directly.

“Yes, I am.”

 Panic made parts of you see stars. But your vision came to normal. You looked down at the table, to regather yourself, then back at him. You swallowed. Keeping it down. You would not give into “hysterics.” Not yet.

If only there could be a distraction. A bird at the window. A thundercloud. Albert's owl whistle. Joey poking his head through the window for a snack from the kitchen, even! No, there was none. Only this.  You put your hands on the table, fingers curled up. Everything in you sensed danger though you were at home and very still.

Part of you knew this would always happen. That it was only a matter of time. And now here was the moment. But why did you feel so horrible?

You wished you could run away. You wished you could run out the door and never speak to him again. To catch a cab out of the city to never deal with this! But…you forced yourself not to. Even if you didn’t want to be here, you knew it would come eventually. You would not flee. You would face him.  You would stay here and deal with it.

Father used to fight in the Bower wars. He was brave then.  Mum's brave. Albert's brave. I can be brave too, you thought.

 He leaned a little closer to you. You felt yourself flinch back. He then put a cold, soft hand over yours. He showed no nervousness, usual for some suitors. His eyes were sharp on you. Lyons cleared his throat with his other hand. He began speaking.

 “Miss Narracott… you have been the greatest surprise about this farm. About this family. And through these past two years, I have grown more and more affectionate with you. I think of all ladies here in town, you have my utmost opinion of superiority. Though I understand your family’s situation and standing more than anyone else, I can be a forgiving man. I can be a tender man beneath all this.”

He gestured to his overdressed striped waistcoat. He looked like an English zebra. If only Albert were with you. Then you both would bite your lips. Then flee to a corner and laugh at him. Then the next sentence hit you like a slap.

“And I will forgive your family's rent if you consent to be my wife.”

You heard the clock on the mantle tick.

“That was what you were discussing with my father?” you asked.

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“He said if you said yes, it was alright by him.”

You forced your breaths to slow. Your hand shook beneath his and your belly boiled. Was this a trap? An idea struck you.

“You are a businessman, not a charity man, Mr. Lyons. Said so yourself, I recall. You cannot seriously mean you would forgive my parent's rent all the time. You need income from your tenants,” you reasoned.

“You are correct. I could extend the forgiveness for a year at most.”

A year without rent. More than enough to recover the loss of crops. It was too good to be true. Was it?

“You say that you like me. What will my life be like after I marry you?” you queried.

Lyons smiled.

“You will live with me in my house. All my servants shall call you mistress. You won’t have to feed chickens for the rest of your life…You will have anything you could want- you have my word! Anything is yours!” he elaborated.

“Breakfast in bed delivered by maids every morning?” you asked.

“Of course, you can, I don’t see why not. It will be a comfortable, glamorous life. That is what I offer you.”

It seemed like the life of being a Wealthy Lady was finally in your grasp. Just like the ones in the catalogs.

“I-I…I don’t know what to say…this is a lot…” you babbled.

Tears were welling up in your eyes, slowly falling. One drop curled in a minuscule puddle on the tablecloth. You got out your handkerchief.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

"It's natural for women to cry with joy when they are proposed to! Especially like this!” he commented.

But you were crying for a different reason. The pure overwhelm of everything.

"Let me ask again-Would you like to be my wife, live a life of ease, and easily have your family keep their farm? I will make you happier more than any man here in town could."

 He even from his pocket got out a velvet box with a ring inside. It was encrusted with a diamond that glittered when the sun hit it. You must admit, it was beautiful and right up your alley. Costly, too. But it felt tight on your finger as if preparing it to be chopped off by a knife by squeezing the life out of it.

"That is what I have to offer you- whatever you want. Anything you wish for is yours, Miss Narracott.”

"Like gloves?" you asked.

"Your pick of them!"

"I have one that's missing...where is my glove?”

He tilted his head.

“Your what?” he asked.

“My cream-colored glove! One’s been missing for a year now! Did you take it? I thought you stole it out of fondness for me. I’d like it back, please,” you explained.

He blinked, shaking his head.

“I never took your glove!” he confirmed.

“Oh…I was mistaken….” You sighed.    

Your head was spinning. Breakfast in bed every morning. Motorcars. Fancy hats and all the dresses you craved at last. Servants. Never having to do a minute of work for the rest of your life. Afternoons spent lifting your feet up like a queen in town. Knowing your family’s house was safe. They had time to recover the lost crops. That they had stability…

“Miss, you try my patience. I do expect an answer- immediately,” he said.

But all while married to Lyons.

You looked up at him. You did not feel an ounce of attraction. You knew several older men who were far more handsome than he.  His ridiculous red mustache! Could you kiss those whiskers on your wedding day? Would they tickle? Would they make you sneeze or even laugh when you kissed him- not from joy but from how silly they looked on him? Could you sit with him and talk with him every day? Spend every meal with him? Could you attend every Sunday service beside him? Could you call David your stepson?

Then it came to the marital act. You were taught about what happened by your mother, your friends, and the farm animals. Could you see yourself wanting to bed this man? Could you… do these sorts of things to this man? Let him do all sorts of things to you? Could you crawl into the same bed as Lyons nightly? See his naked body? Let him see yours? Feel him on you? In you? Wake up next to his face every morning? You could push him away, but not for long. And what if you got pregnant? Would you want to carry this man’s child? Make more of him into the world?

He wasn’t old enough to die soon. And you doubt you could get away with murder. Or file a divorce.

Perhaps you could learn to love him. Even if he wasn’t a handsome man in your eyes, what about his character? Men didn’t have to be handsome to be kind, gentle, respectful husbands who treated their wives well.

Thinking back, you recalled every interaction. How he scoffed at rabbits as “vermin.” His behavior toward your family when they desperately tried to get the field plowed. He harassed your father and mother. Taunting their worries. Speaking with cruelty and superiority. Not even a whisper of sympathy for their situation. And not only to people beneath his power but to the people he wanted as in-laws!

He hadn’t changed a bit.

Was that a man you wanted to marry?

You thought of the field. The storm. The brokenness on your father’s face. The relief on it if you walked out, flashed the ring on your finger, and said, “The rent is forgiven for a year, Dad!”

Then you remembered your mother’s words. About being a woman. About self-sacrifice. About happiness.

How much you gave and sacrificed already for your family. If you made this one sacrifice; If you married this man, it would be no different than plunging a blade into yourself. Or tearing at each part of yourself until barely anything was left. An empty husk from your wedding day until death did you part. An empty, unhappy shell all your days.

That wasn't worth it.

You looked up into Lyon's eyes and said one word.

“No.”

He blinked. His smile was unfazed.

“What did you say?”

“I said no,” you clarified.

“No breakfast in bed?”

You took off the ring and placed it in the box. You slid it back to him. You stood up. Trying to feel taller than him as he sat.

“No to your offer. I cannot and will not accept,” you said.

“Your families rent! This is quite an incredible opportunity. Think of my generosity. Think of it!” he argued.

“You’re not proposing to me. You’re extorting me,” you accused.

You began to shake even more, tears poured out of your eyes. Yet you kept speaking.

“You’re not a nice man. And you wouldn’t be a good husband to me. So, do you hear me? My answer is no!”

You dipped your head down. You wiped the tears off with your sleeves, then looked back up. He got up as well, putting the box in his pocket.

“You will be our landlord. But no more. And you will respect that boundary. Or we will live somewhere else…” you told him.

“Very well then…My business here today is done. I’ll leave,” he replied.

You walked over and opened the door. Mr. Lyons stepped right outside, tipping his hat with a solemn look. His face frowning.

“You lost quite an opportunity, Miss Narracott,” he said.

 You heard a familiar honk. A smile returned to you at the sound.

“We have no servants here. Harold will see you out,” you announced.

Harold charged onto Lyons. Wings flapping and feathers flying. Lyons struggled to run out.  The goose bit his leg. Lyons let out an “Agh!” in pain. He lost any dignity he had left shaking away the offensive gander. The landlord couldn’t take a step without dealing with Harold’s nipping beak. He retreated to the door of the gate pursued by the goose.

Your parents had been sitting on the large rock near the bottom field. They jumped up and ran over to watch. Harold kept honking and flapping his wings at the threshold when your hopeless suitor got out. Off Lyons ran to his motorcar, his servant driving him far away. Harold let out a few final, triumphant honks at the gate. Then shook his head and waddled away like a parade of victory.

You heard Albert yelling out and his running footsteps.

“Y/N! Y/N! Don’t you worry, I’m right-“

Albert burst forth to the front yard. You saw he had a pitchfork in hand.

“Albie!” you said.

He looked around you, getting your shoulders with his free hand.

“Are you alright? I heard no screaming, but lots of raised voices, I did! He didn’t…didn’t hurt you, did he?” he asked.

“You…. you were going to attack him…to protect me?” you asked.

“Yes, like I promised you! Always will!”

You clutched him and cried. Finally releasing the urge to sob for the past hour. Dropping the pitchfork, he hugged you back. You heard your parents from behind.

“He made you an offer, didn’t he?” Mum asked.

Letting go of the hug, you turned to them and nodded.

“He said he’d forgive the rent for a year if I did. And I refused him,” you explained.

You began crying to your parents, wiping off a tear with your sleeve like a child who broke a teacup.

‘I’m so sorry…I know that…I know how much it would…it would have saved us…” you babbled to your parents.

You dreaded seeing two disappointed faces. Hearing disappointed words. But instead, your mother stepped forward.

“You’ve no reason to be sorry, come here, darling, come here…” she consoled.

She wrapped you into a hug. You dug into her purple blouse, crying into it. She rocked you as you stood, letting you cry. Then you peeked your head up at your father. Releasing the hug, you approached him.

“Dad I’m…I’m so sorry…I failed you; I know…I could have saved us, saved you and…and I didn’t!” you cried.

“Are you mad at me, girl? That’s what I’m worried about…” he asked.

You shook your head.

“No…you could have forced me, but you didn’t…you…you gave me a choice…you let me choose!” you answered.

He squeezed your arm. Then all three of them hugged you. A circle of warmth and love, safe to cry, safe to release.

“We’ll figure something out…Shhh, it’ll be alright…” Mum consoled you.

Releasing the hug, you saw Albert’s eyes light up with an idea.

“We have an uncle. We’ll ask him to hire us!” Albert suggested.

You then looked up at your stone house. The farm that had been your whole life. The farm that you refused them to keep at the price of your happiness.

“Where will we live, mum?” you asked.

“I’ll tell you. We’ll live together,” she answered.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You were grateful for the chores on the weekend and work on Monday. You were relieved to see customers, organize items, and hear your co-worker’s chatter. Anything to not obsess over what happened. They were a welcome distraction.  When you returned from work, Albert was all a-chatter. When you walked through the gate, he approached you and jumped subjects like a squirrel jumped through trees.

“Dover’s fair’s coming up and Joey’s got to win a prize again! He has to! And oh! Captain Nicholls stopped by to draw Joey today! Oh- and Andrew! Andrew’s winnin’ all the bees at school! Right clever, he is! And Dad says we got some eggs hatched up! Not too many washed up in the storm!  And Mum’s making beef and gravy for dinner! It’s already making my mouth water thinking about it! And there’s some fuss goin’ on in Austria-I heard this fellow was in his car and-“

 When he saw the look on your face, he shut his mouth. Then looked at you.

“How’re you today? Sad about Lyons?”

“Some. But it’s better,” you replied.

“I’m glad you said no, Y/N. Don’t want him as my brother-in-law, I don’t!” Albert confessed.

You let out a small laugh at the words and he gave you another hug.

Dad did what he always did when times were tough- go out to the pub. He left after dinner. No one said a peep when he walked out. All knew it was worthless to stop him.

That night, sleep was not easy to achieve. Your mind reeled about the confrontation with Lyons. Thinking through and playing each moment over and over, troubling and tormenting you. Unable to sleep, you got out of bed. You gathered a shawl and went downstairs to the fireplace, starting a fire. Curled up on a chair, you stared at it, the sound comforting you.

Then there was a knock on the door. Answering it, you saw Si Easton with your father’s arm over his shoulders.

“Bloody sloshed, he is! But got him home safe!”

“Si, thank you so much. Be careful getting back home,” you said.

Si tipped his hat and then left. Stumbling in his steps, you led dad to a chair, he was mumbling, humming a song.

“Here… Just relax now…I’ll get you a blanket and some water…” you comforted him.

Leaving, you fetched an old quilt and put it over him. Dad looked at you, his cheeks red and eyes glazed. You were lucky Dad was never a violent drunk. Only a happy, chatty one.

“Hmm…. you’re something of a princess, Y/N…” he slurred.

“I wish I actually was,” you commented.

“There was a row at the pub over you,” Dad continued.

You turned your head. Were these drunken ramblings over nothing? Or did this really happen?

“What do you mean?” you pressed further.

You sat down on the floor and held his hand as he rambled on.

“Hmph…some fellow…I don’t know how he found out, but he did. Grabbed Lyons by his suit- big, tall man. Slammed him on the wall! Yellin’ ‘What were your intentions with Miss Narracott?’ and Lyons couldn’t answer. The man was ready to box him with his cup, he was, if the others hadn’t pulled him off. Right before he could get a good box on ‘im.  All the men pulled ‘em apart, they did. Old Jonesy ran to ‘em. Scoldin’ about how he doesn’t like rows in his pub. Pulled ‘em apart and told to go home, sober up. Hmmm, good to know… didn’t think Devon was that small…but…interesting, isn’t it? At least he got him, so I didn’t have to!”

The fireplace crackled. You fetched him a cup of water. But it stood on the table near the chair, untouched.

“Did you talk about the proposal? Who fought Lyons?” you asked.

“Don’t remember, no…Hmmm…didn’t see nothin’ who he was…” he murmured.

He lowered his head, closed his eyes, and soon snored.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The next day, work was welcome again. Perhaps at break or at lunch, you would recount to your friends what happened. But when the thought occurred, the bell over the door rang. In walked Sarah Corbyn again. Back on her trail. Her dress was in a yellowish hue so that she shone like gold in that brown shop. She approached you.

“Can I help you?” you asked.

“I hear there are some new books that have arrived. I’d like to see them, please,” she requested.

“They’re over there,” you pointed, guiding her to the books.

She looked at two, then turned over to you with a smile of concern. But this time, you did not smile back. Maybe the rejection had emboldened you. You stiffened your body as if preparing for a fight with knives rather than the sugary cruelty of her words. You would not tolerate her viciousness anymore.

“I hope you are well!” she chirruped.

“I am,” you answered.

“How is work, Miss Narracott?”

“Good, as always, Miss Corbyn.”

She leaned in closer with a smile. But this time, you folded your hands in front of you. Not smiling back.

“Though, I must tell you, as I have before- as you are a friend of mine. About Captain Nicholls…

You looked into her eyes.

“Miss Corbyn, I do not like to discuss one’s personal matters at work. I have many things to do. I like to be productive with my time. Please do not discuss such things with me in the middle of my shift.”

She blinked her eyes. Her nose scrunched in disbelief. Then she shrugged. She turned to the books, purchased two, and left.

Once work ended and you left the shop, you saw her. She waited for you like a spider waiting for a fly to enter its web. But you were not going to be prey this time. Not without a fight.

She walked over to you with that same smile.

“Oh, how glad I am your shift is over!” she said.

You turned over and folded your arms, glaring into her eyes.

“Work is done, so let me speak frankly. Miss Corbyn, you can at least be honest with me.” You began.

She only smiled, with a slight tilt of her head.

“I am always honest with you!” she shrugged.

You stepped forward.

“Miss Corbyn- I do not want to hear your boasts about Captain Nicholls. I understand what you are doing and why it’s to me. I am tired of hearing it! I’m tired of your attacks and insults! Don’t think I don’t understand what you’re doing! I heard about your soap comment-it’s only because my family and I work hard! It’s not funny and it’s not right! I want you to stop. If you do this one more time, I’ll tell Nicholls himself- I doubt he would think you more admirable! If you think tormenting and bullying me will make you look better for your fiancée, you’re wrong!”

“Fiancée!?” she repeated.

“Is he your fiancée? He’s a respectable man! Not the type to leave a woman hanging! I thought he should be by now! Is he?” you asked.

She took a step back. She had a frown. Then she took off her gloves and showed her hands-no rings.

“We’re not engaged. I wish we were,” she said.

With that, she put her gloves back on. She turned on her heels and left.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

That Sunday, once church was over, you went up to Captain Nicholls.

“Good morning, Miss, what did you think of-“

“May we please talk outside?” you interrupted.

He blinked. He gave a glance at Major Stewart. Stewart tightened his lips.

“Of course, we can,” Nicholls answered.

 Joining the filtering congregation, both of you walk out to the street. A few feet from the church crowd.

“Are you in love with Miss Corbyn?” you asked directly.

He dropped his jaw, and his face became pink.

“What- no! She’s mad for me, but not I for her!” he cried.

“I ask because…I see her with you. All around you! Dancing with you!” you elaborated.

“Her father is a Lieutenant in the army. It’s impossible to say no to him when he invites me over. And so, it’s been impossible to avoid her,” Nicholls explained.

“You dance with her twice per social!” you argued.

A few heads turned, then they walked away. You stopped caring who overheard. You had to get the truth out of him.

“I made one promise in winter so she would not be partnerless at her first dance. Then in spring, I told her only one! She frowned but relented.”

Shame made a rock in your stomach. You realized you turned away from the two dances that spring out of spite. Not even looking. Had you turned back then, you would have seen only one dance between them. Not two. Flustered, you kept speaking.

“You’re always smiling at her!”

“I’m nothing if not polite, Miss Narracott!” he reasoned.

You stepped forward, your hands curled into fists on your sides.

“Did you lead her on?”

He held your gaze.

“I thought she was jolly, pleasant company at first. Then I dined with her family at their house. I saw her with her servants...and I confess, her behavior shocked me. Always demanding, never grateful. Her lack of…she seems to lack consideration of any person’s feelings but her own. I do not wish to speak ill of anyone, but it is the truth. I still owe her decent treatment, like any person. Especially a lady. No more, no less,” Nicholls finished.

You took a step back, bowing your head. Shame washing down on you. Were you no better than a jealous, clingy hen?

“Oh…I’m sorry, I just…if she was who you wanted, that was fine…I just…”

You took a step back. Then looked away. He walked around to see you, stopping in your tracks.

“I accept your apology. And Miss…your farm is still open for me to draw there; I’d like to visit today. If it won’t bother your duties …” he suggested.

“No, you may…you may visit,” you permitted.

Sure enough, around teatime, he did. Though he did not drink a drop of tea or eat a bite of his biscuit. But got his chair and sketchbook and set to work. You were in the laundry area to hang up wet clothes. Your father went down to the bottom fields. Mum stayed inside to scrub the floors. Albert went up to chat with the captain as Joey pranced about the grass. He took a deep breath. Surrounded on that lovely summer day, the sun shining and a light breeze blowing through.

“Joey’s quite wild today! Excited for the fair, he is! He’s got to run, sir! Too much spirit! Sorry for that!”

“You can ride him out, Albert. I can draw the chickens or Harold instead,” Nicholls permitted.

With that, Albert swung his leg over the horse and galloped off. But once he was gone, Nicholls approached you.

“But Miss…are you alright?” he asked, softening his voice.

“You mean about Miss Corbyn?”

“No, Mr. Lyons…” he clarified.

You stopped pinning up laundry, setting the shirt down on the basket.

“You heard?” you asked.

He nodded.

“Albert told me…how do you feel now?”

You let out a deep breath.

“I feel…I feel relieved. And worried. But…I feel free…” you confessed.

“And you’re safe? He has not…bothered you since then?” he continued.

You shook your head.

“No. Never brought it up again,” you said.

“That’s good…”

He stayed there. You hung up the wet shirt to dry. Then you took down and folded some dried socks in a separate basket. Nicholls looked away to the field but stayed still. He began to fidget with his hands. He then walked out but did not return to his chair and sketchbook. He paced a little about the yard. You then paused and took a step towards him.

“Sir, is something the matter? Are you feeling well?” you asked.

“Miss Narracott…could you come here, please?” he asked.

You took a few steps closer. Out into the sunshine where birds carried their songs, the breeze was gentle, and summer was in bloom. His hands kept fidgeting, though he took a deep breath.

“May I be frank?” he asked.

“Of course…”

“I’m so sorry for this misunderstanding about her…I wish you confronted me sooner…” he confided.

“It’s all done now! I know you’re heartbroken because you were in love with Miss Corbyn!” you assured him.

He looked into your eyes with gentleness.

“I never loved Miss Corbyn. I’m not in love with Miss Corbyn.” he confessed.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

He reached into the left front pocket of his uniform. And pulled out your long missing glove.

 You dropped your jaw and let out a gasp despite yourself, yet you felt yourself smile. You gaped at the glove then at him then the glove then him again. He offered you your glove and you felt it but didn’t remove it from his hand. Your heart raced, again trying to believe this was real. Everything- these words. This-this was real. If he was real.

 He then looked at you with eyes wide.

"You...you took my glove...you had it for a year..." you wondered.

"You lost it at church. It was a hot day. You took your gloves off and kept them in your hand. As you left, this one fell on the pew. I kept meaning to return it...but...I...I wanted a reminder. Always there. To think of you...remember you..."

"Captain Nicholls…” you gasped, wondering if your mind could form words now.

“Can I speak more?” he asked.

You nodded. He took a step closer, placing a hand over yours. Warm, calloused, and gentle to touch.

"Miss Narracott, I've admired you. You’re a lovely woman. Your kindness, your loyalty, your heart...how much you cared for your family. How strong you always were. How gentle you were with all the animals-even Harold! And I..."

You looked at him. His eyes began to brim with a few tears.

"It was not one day. It was every small day, every small hour I spent with you. Each time, the more I met you, the more I knew you, the easier it became. The more I felt for you. And every corner you turn, every time you turn away and leave…I pray for one more minute. One more chance. One more instance, only to see you, only one glance. To hear you say only one word. I cannot keep it a secret anymore-I love you, Miss Narracott. I adore you. I worship you. And I want you, more than I ever wanted anything…”

Such words were not easily recovered from. Nothing else registered. Only him. He blushed, then glanced down at your hand. He gave you the glove and let go.

"So, tell me and relieve my torment...do you feel the same? If not, I will never set foot on this farm again and bother you again," he said.

You took one step forward and placed a hand on his. Holding it and looking him in the eyes.

"James...James, I feel the same..." you answered.

It was the first time you ever said his first name. His shoulders relaxed. He broke into a beautiful, adoring smile at you.

 "I was...was never sure...and... The day Albert told me you were proposed to, I knew I had to gather the courage to tell you. That some gentleman with money would arrive and swoop you away. Then I'd have to stifle my feelings and let it die. I worried in that moment...I would lose you forever...not that I didn't want you to be happy. I only... I worried in your situation; you would marry out of desperation. That I had rivals I never expected..." he continued.

You placed the glove in his hand and put your second hand in his. You recalled your father’s drunken recollection.

“Albert told you about Lyons and Dad said there was a row at the pub. Did you-?”

“I had only one sip too many that night. I was tipsy, but I wasn’t drunk. And Lyons said something about being alone with you- it struck me. If he…took advantage of you …then you would be forced to marry him. Out of reputation.”

Nicholls lowered his head, then looked back at you.

” I lost control and…and I grabbed him onto the wall. I raised my voice at him. I threatened him if he did something. But…I did it because…I was frightened for you, and I didn’t want you hurt…” he finished.

He looked down, blushing red.

“I’m not proud of it. I’m not usually like this…I’m so sorry,” he apologized.

You shook your head, giving him a smile.

“But you did this because you worried about me. You cared for my well-being. You wanted me safe. How could I think less of you knowing that? It’s no matter,” you cooed.

 He was breathing heavily.

"But the matter Is I love you, Y/N."

He finally said your first name. You could have glowed from happiness. You looked up and smiled. There were tears in your eyes- this time from joy.

"I love you too, James."

 Suddenly there was the sound of clucks and a honk. Both of you jumped as Harold chased a bunch of chickens through the yard, Captain of his own charge.  Both of you let out a laugh as you stepped aside, then reclasped hands. In the distance, you heard a familiar "neigh!"

"But James your intentions are honorable, are they?” you asked.

“Yes.”

“This means...you will talk to my father, yes?" you asked.

His smile widened.

"Happily."

Your heart stopped in your chest, and you felt giddy.

"I never thought you’d feel towards me...never believed I was worthy of you..." you confessed.

"You are, oh, sweet Y/N, you are!" he whispered.

There again was the sound of hooves. Albert’s brown head in the far distance.

  "Albert will be soon...may I kiss your hand?" he asked.

"Yes."

 He took a brief glance down at it, feeling your palm and enjoying the touch.

"Y/N... darling..."

He smiled; eyes bright as he brought it up to kiss it. It was short, but his lips were soft. He breathed in as he kissed you, savoring each bit of you. And you savored the second you felt his lips on your hand. Then he released. Much too soon, you let go.

 You took returned to the laundry room, to fold and sort clothes Nicholls went back to his chair near the stable field. Albert galloped back in on Joey.

"Woah! Easy-boy! Aren't we a team, Captain!" Albert bragged atop the stallion.

"Indeed, you are!" James- for now, he was not only Nicholls but James! – replied.

Albert got off Joey and began to brush off the dirt on the horse.

"Nice and handsome- isn't he?"

"Yes, very. Do you agree, Miss Narracott?" James asked, turning towards you.

Both of you shared a smile at each other.

"He definitely is,” you answered.

Though after a few minutes of drawing, you saw out of the corner of your eye that James set his pencil down and closed the book. He got out of his chair and with a determined expression. He then looked over at you with a nod. You clutched the drying bed sheet you were getting off its line. James turned it over to your brother. Though you turned innocently to the laundry, your ears focused on them.

“Albert…where is your father now?”

“He’s down in the bottom field putting in seeds. Do you need him, sir?” Albert asked.

“I just want to speak to him.”

“Whatever for, sir?”

But before he could give the boy an answer, the gate swung open. Harold honked with an alert at a guest. You turned and saw Major Stewart rushing in.

“Jim! Jim! We’re needed immediately! Headquarters!” cried Major Stewart.

He turned his head.

“I need to go now, goodbye,” he wished Albert.

Albert dipped his head in farewell. Nicholls went over to you. Major Stewart at his heels.

“Goodbye Y/N, I’m sorry…”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

He leaned forward, giving you a whisper. Stewart stood back with folded arms and a raised eyebrow. His lips tried not to smile.

“Don’t worry…the minute I am free...”

“All the time you need, James.” You replied.

He put on his hat and tipped it at you. Saying his last goodbyes to his hosts, he left with Stewart.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You were smiling brightly the next day. You put on the nicest of your white blouses and darker-colored skirts for work. But you took extra time that morning on your appearance- in case James entered! And you saw him! You even found yourself grinning and humming as you restocked items throughout work.

“Why, someone’s cheery today! You were all doom and gloom last week, Y/N!” Alice commented as you both swept up some leftover dirt on the floor.

You leaned against the brush.

“Alice…can I confide in you?” you whispered.

“Oh, of course!” she said.

You softened your voice, the thought bubbling inside you like a hundred butterflies.

“Something…wonderful has happened. And something even better is about to happen…” you began.

“Ooo, don’t leave me in suspense! Tell me!” she urged in excitement, with a toothy grin.

As you leaned over, the words were right on the tip of your tongue. “I’m in love!! I’m in love and he loves me too! He finally told me yesterday! He’s going to talk to my father! And this means that-“

But instead, there was the sound of a loud engine and yelling. Muffled over crowds of people bursting into loud talk right outside the shop. The church bells were ringing, and they never rung outside of services.

“What’s all the fuss? Stay here girls- I’ll be back!” Mrs. Snow offered, opening the door.

All of you peeked outside. People were handing over newspapers. Some gathered around one gentleman in a motorcar with a brown mustache. And no one looked happy.

When Mrs. Snow returned, her face looked like a ghost.

“Ladies…we are at war with Germany.”

[otmaaromanovas]

What was Tatiana’s relationship with N Rodianov?

Hello there! Thank you for your question and I am sorry for the late reply!

Nikolai Nikolaevich Rodionov was Tatiana’s favourite officer on the Standart. The girls naturally had their favourite officers: Olga’s was Pavel Voronov, Maria's was Nikolai Demenkov, Anastasia’s was Georgii Taube. Some of these were obviously crushes, whereas some were just close friendships.

When Tatiana was suffering from typhoid, Alix sent notes to her to comfort her and give advice. In one of these notes she specificallly mentions she saw Rodionov. So judging by this he was definitely a family favourite and/or Alix knew that would cheer up dear Tatiana.

Here are some photos of them together:

And this super cute one of them sharing a coat to keep cosy!

From Tatiana’s diary and letters - Rodionov is almost always referred to as 'N.N.' (Nikolai Nikolaevich):

'29 May [Old Style, her birthday] Thursday [1914]. ...I played 2 singles sets [of Tennis] with N.N., both of which he won... I played 3 sets with N.N. against Papa and Olga, won two lost one. N.P. arrived. We had tea there. After that I had a rest and wrote telegrams... I sat between N.N. and N.P. It was very good. After that, there was a cinematograph in the dining room. I sat with N.N. on the divan. We went back home at 12. It was so awfully good. They drank my health three times at the table. So sweet and cosy. To be with such dear friends.' - Full diary entry here, translated by the wonderful Helen Azar

'10 January. [1916]. ...One of these days N.N. Rodionov is supposed to arrive, and I am very happy. We have not seen him for almost a year...'

Letter from Tatiana to Countess Zinaïda Tolstaya:

'1 March, 1918 Tobolsk. ...Write to me again. I love receiving your letters. Do you know where N.N. is at the moment? I know that his friend was killed in Simferopol and he was there too...'

She also wrote occasionally in her diary about speaking with him on the telephone, something that OTMA did with their favourite officers, mostly in the evening.

She didn’t write about him quite as passionately or often as Olga did about Pavel Voronov or AKSHV, so I don’t know whether you would consider it to be a ‘crush’, or just a particular favourite :) She sometimes called him 'dear N.N.', which could just be Russian endearment expressed in many of their letters and diaries, or something more romantic.

From the photos that exist of him, he seems to have been close to all the girls, posing with them affectionately, holding their hands, etc. They all write about him in their diaries fondly. Judging purely off photos, he seems to have been extra close with Tatiana and Anastasia. There are some super cute photos of him and Anastasia, I’ll attach them below! You’re pretty much guaranteed to find him in all their albums!

Rodionov survived the Revolution, despite staying loyal to the Imperial Family, which would have placed him in considerable danger. At some point he emigrated, and he passed away in 1962 in France, aged 76. He would have been 24 in 1910, and therefore his mid 20s during his time with the Romanovs.

Also, random fun fact, his hand writing was strikingly similar to Tatiana’s! The same very sloped, pointy text.

Hope this was helpful! To conclude, I don't know exactly whether Tatiana saw Rodionov as a favourite officer or more of a crush. She was more reserved than Olga, so her not writing about him like Olga did with her crushes is understandable when you consider her personality. But she clearly was very fond about him, and didn't forget him even in the last year of her life.

[scattered-irises]

Part V: Helix of Memories

Another prequel to the Dysonia AU.

More references to the Illusory Paradise...annnnnndd it's all Vocaloid characters. Whoops. Ah, well, you get a small paragraph on Christopher.

Rating: General

Word Count: 1914

Characters: Luka, Miku, Rin

Relationships: Background Luka/Gackpo

Warnings: Talks about human cloning

“Clones…? Count me out of it,” scoffs Rin. 

Luka looks at her sister in surprise. 

“I thought you, out of everyone else, would have been most excited about this proposal,” she remarks. 

Rin puts her hands on her hips. 

“On the contrary, if you actually thought about it,” she mutters. 

She gives Luka a sharp glare. 

“Human cloning is one of the things I would never support as a geneticist.”

“Why?” asks Miku, popping up from their sofa. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a way to remember someone like that?”

Rin purses her lips and shakes her head. 

“There’s too many environmental factors to ensure a perfect clone. Plus, they won’t even have the original’s memories, so there’s no point,” she adds. 

“What if that was the only way for you to see them again?” ventures Luka. 

Her younger sister stares at the floor while Miku makes a humming sound. Rin’s eyebrows slowly furrow, a frown appearing on her lips. 

“Don’t tell me you’re seriously considering that man’s proposal,” begins Rin. 

A long silence fills the room. Luka feels Miku’s judgemental gaze on her, hot as coals. Many years ago, Rin had worked under Dr. Realist’s supervision alongside Luka. After a long argument on the ethics of experimenting on extracted human brains, Rin had left the lab in a furious storm. Even now, her name tag continues to stare at her from the breakroom’s fridge. 

“It’s impossible!” continues Rin. She takes off her red-rimmed glasses and looks directly at Luka. “They’ll send you off to who-knows-where! Your mind wouldn’t be able to last…!” 

“I agree,” adds Miku. “Being in space for that long…It would be far too isolating.” 

Luka wets her lips and looks at her sisters. Rin had just returned home from work, evidenced by her irritability. Her lab coat hangs from one arm, the bow on her head crooked. Miku meanwhile, seemed to reflect Rin’s inner worries. 

“I…it’s still a few years off,” begins Luka. “That’s why I wanted to ask now, if you were willing to donate some of your DNA samples…”

Making a sound of disgust, Rin turns away from Luka and begins to walk upstairs. 

“Count me out of it,” she snarls. “I’ll have nothing to do with that man.”

In the silence that follows, Luka slowly turns to Miku, who holds her with a stony gaze. 

“You won’t be able to change her mind, you know,” says Miku. 

Luka lets out a sigh and nods. 

“I know.” 

Turning back to her computer, Miku continues typing up song lyrics. For a moment, Luka listens to the pitter pattering of her sister’s keyboard. Out of all of them, only Miku had pursued the arts. It never ceased to amaze Luka how easily lyrics flowed from Miku’s mind. And her voice…! Bright, warm and sweet, just like an angel’s. Their entire family was all good at singing, but Miku had long proven that she was the best. 

It seemed like everyone in her family had their own talents and their own destinies. Their oldest sister Meiko was a skilled manager, boosting Miku’s popularity to the top. Their older brother Kaito was a savvy businessman. Rin was one of the best geneticists in the city. Her twin, Len, was a renowned journalist. And Luka…her destiny was to the stars, far far away from everyone she knew and loved. 

Why did it have to be her?

“That Dr. Realist…How much do you trust him?” Miku asks suddenly. 

Taken aback, Luka runs her eyes across her sister’s screen. 

I gaze up at the stars in the transparent sky

I'm unable to fly, all I can do is cry

I've been wounded up alone, and whenever I feel lonely

"You came here to help me..."

The lyrics are oddly chilling, causing Luka to take a step back. 

Dr. Realist…She had been with him from the very beginning. They had their disagreements, but where it truly mattered, they were in lockstep. His dream was also her dream. In spite of his mercurial nature and carelessly dispensed insults about the human race, they shared a deep desire to save mankind. 

“I trust him with my entire being,” says Luka. “I know he doesn’t seem so, but he’s a true genius. He’ll be the one to save us all.”

Miku makes another humming sound. A pang twists Luka’s heart. On the distant STELLA colony, would there be anyone who would hum the same way Miku did? Surrounded by nothing but stars and the blackness of space, would there be anything remotely familiar? 

“I’m willing to give you the needed samples, but you must promise me something,” proposes Miku. 

“Yes?” 

Miku turns back, green eyes sparkling with amusement. 

“My clones are only allowed off of earth, alright? I don’t want to have to deal with an imposter!” she teases. 

Luka gives her sister an easy grin. 

“Of course. I’ll keep all your samples close to me at all times.”

Miku beams. 

“Good! Gumi’s songs about running into her clones always made me uneasy…”

Luka laughs at the mention of their neighbor. 

“I’ll be sure to ask her if she wants to donate,” she says. 

“You probably won’t have to ask…she’d volunteer!”

The sisters share an easy laugh. Their neighbor was always trying new things, it seemed. One time it was skydiving. Next, it was starting a podcast on kappa hunting. Yes, Luka definitely had to ask if Gumi wanted her clones on STELLA. She would add much-needed joy to the loneliness of space. 

Miku leans her head on the back of the sofa and looks back at Luka. A hint of sadness fills her expression. 

“In all seriousness…please treat my clones well…As you’ve done for me, I want you to watch over them and prevent them from falling into despair. Easy enough, right? ”

A nervous laugh crawls up Luka’s throat. She holds Miku’s gaze.

“That was a given,” says Luka. 

Happiness was so difficult to maintain and keep. 

Miku grins. 

“Does Gackpo know?”

Luka pauses. Her stomach does a small flip upon thinking about her fiancé. She looks down at her garnet ring. He had been so patient, waiting all of those years for her. Would he be able to bear the news that they would never marry, her body shipped off into the depths of space for eternity? 

“...Not yet,” admits Luka. 

Miku quirks an eyebrow. 

“You don’t want a clone of him on your colony?”

Luka looks out the window. A light drizzle has begun, dotting the window with small teardrops. 

“I don’t think so,” says Luka after a few moments. 

“Oh?” 

She thinks of Gackpo’s deep blue eyes and gentle smile. She thinks of running her hands down his chiseled jaw. His soft, purple hair and supple skin. His soothing, deep voice. Her lips tremble. She would have to leave him behind, along with all of her wishes and dreams on earth. 

A happy marriage. A normal family. A normal life. 

Having a clone of him would be a constant reminder of all she had lost. 

“He wouldn’t like the idea,” Luka replies quietly. 

“I see…”

To have a Gackpo that didn’t remember her, who couldn’t touch her, who couldn’t love her, would be merely a cheap copy. 

“What about your coworkers? Like that Christopher?” asks Miku. 

The thought of her coworker makes Luka pause. Whenever she looked at him, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity. He always seemed so sad, his bangs framing his long face with its sunken eyes. Would giving his clone another life on her colony result in a happier Christopher? She doesn’t know what to think of the idea. What would he be if he hadn’t been a scientist? On the colony, would he gaze out at the stars, searching for the dilapidated earth? Would he sing beneath the stars, glad to be rid of the bright moon? 

A small smile fills Luka’s lips when she thinks of Christopher singing. 

“I’ll think about it,” she replies. 

Miku types up a few more lyrics, humming beneath her breath. Luka watches as she writes, the melody filling her with sadness. 

The wish constituting such a desire

was absorbed into the deep, deep, darkness

The words I muttered helplessly

resound aimlessly in this room

It seems like the only one left behind in this world is me

“What’s this song about?” asks Luka. 

Miku doesn’t turn back to look at her, intensely gazing at her screen. 

“The loneliness of a wish granter,” she replies. 

“Interesting…”

“Actually, I think you’d be perfect for the song,” she adds. 

“Me?!”

“Mmhm!” 

Miku turns back, beaming. 

“I’m thinking of naming it The Lone Cell of the Stella Theatre,” she declares. 

“Well…!” 

“Being surrounded by clones of all your loved ones…won’t you be sad that they won’t remember you?” asks Miku.

The faces of Luka’s siblings fill her mind. The countless memories they made of singing and laughing together would have to be enough to carry her into eternity. The things their clones would do without her would be a gentle reminder of those moments. As the STELLA colony’s mind, she would know them, yet they would only see her as a distant god. 

Luka’s throat is dry. As STELLA, she would become an onlooker, forever shut out of the human world. She needed something to remind her that she was once human. 

Luka forces a smile and tilts her head. 

“Only a little bit. It’s enough for me to see all of you smiling,” she replies. 

“You’ll be a benevolent ruler then,” says Miku with a small smile. “How many times do you think you’ll clone me?”

Luka gives a small shrug. 

“Every hundred to two hundred years or so…just enough so that the people there won’t notice I’m cloning my lovely little sister.”

Miku giggles. 

“Maybe in one of my clones’ lives, they’ll be an idol-nun,” she jokes.  

“An idol-nun?!” echoes Luka incredulously.

Her sister shrugs, rolling her shoulders and then humming. 

“That was the first thing that came to mind. She could be a nun by day, idol by night.”

“Life on the colonies isn’t going to be like a manga!” protests Luka. 

“Are you sure? It sounds a lot like one from all you’ve told me,” says Miku, unwrapping a candy bar. 

She breaks it in half and offers it to Luka. Taking the candy, Luka takes a nibble and sighs. To many, Dr. Realist’s proposal sounded like a sci-fi novel or a pipe dream. Only a few were truly willing to believe him. The idea of sending a lone human to control and become a space colony seemed absurd, after all. 

“Laugh at me all you like, but it’ll come true someday,” says Luka resolutely. 

A hint of melancholy fills Miku’s face. She contemplates her candy bar and then bites into it. She chews methodically, with Luka silently counting how many times her sister chews before swallowing. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Swallow. 

Miku looks out the window, where the rain continues to fall. Meiko’s geraniums were starting to bend beneath the intensifying rain. Luka makes a mental note to heat up her sister’s favorite sake before she comes home. Miku was probably thinking the same thing. 

“I know,” sighs Miku after a moment of pondering the rain. “I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”

Placing a hand on Miku’s shoulder, Luka offers her sister a small smile. 

“We still have a few years left. Let’s enjoy them while we can.” 

[ifuckinglovedinosaurssomuchjesus]

Reviewing every Dinosaur movie ever: #1 Gertie the Dinosaur

RELEASE DATE:  February 18, 1914

SYNOPSIS:  Winsor McCay, the cartoonist behind the film, bets his friends on a trip to the museum that he can bring a dinosaur back to life. With months of work, he presents them with an animated film of Gertie, claiming it is his trained Brontosaurus. He shouts commands at her to do tricks, but she’s a rebellious dinosaur, and tends to goof off and gets easily distracted by food and the creatures that live near her. After teasing a mammoth, taking a nap, and drinking a lake dry, Winsor finally gets her to obey by letting her carry his animated form off screen on her back. Overjoyed by the movie, his friends happily pay for dinner.

THOUGHTS: Gertie the Dinosaur is not only the very first dinosaur film ever made, but one of the very first animation films as well. Originally designed as a  vaudeville act featuring Winsor himself, it’s a beloved benchmark of cinema and a wonderful start to the list.

Despite the age, it’s remarkably well animated. Gertie has a sense of weight and scale that really drives home her size and she moves much like a real animal with her muscles flexing her her abdomen changing to simulate her breathing. The sequence of her drinking is phenomenal as it so masterfully displays her shifting her weight forward as she reaches further down to the lowering water line.

My favorite little bit of trivia is how Gertie got her name:

He heard a couple of "sweet boys" [gay men] out in the hall talking to each other, and one of them said, "Oh, Bertie, wait a minute!" in a very sweet voice. He thought it was a good name, but wanted it to be a girl's name instead of a boy's, so he called it "Gertie".

— Paul Satterfield, Interview with Milt Gray, 1977

So always remember that the first dinosaur ever animated was named after a gay guy that the animator thought sounded sweet, wonderful factoid for any party.

At only 17 minutes long, it’s a wonderfully charming film that I recommend everyone to watch at least once for not only the joy of Gertie acting like a spoiled puppy but also getting to see a benchmark in animation. This was the first ever film to use keyframe animation, a technique still used to this day, and modern animators have a lot to thank Mr. McCay for pioneering the medium.

RATING: 9/10