#jude & cora

[shesthespinstersimmer]

Spoiler (?)

A great big 🎩tip to @theosconfessions for letting Soren do Scarlet’s Love is Embarrassing Challenge - She had a blast and hopes Scar finds the love of her life because she deserves it 🖤

That being said, she knows they’ll always be friends; she better know she can call Soren whenever she likes. In the meantime, looks like the girls have some plans for her in Season 4 😉 

[callmejud3]

HEYYY JUDIE

soo I wrote a poem a month ago I would like to share it with you 😭

Hiiii !!!

Omg yes please do !!!!

[canibeyoungforever]

Masterlist

Imagines:

Neymar Jr

worrying

hurt

take care

here

not at all

your idiot

series:

fight for us: 1 2 3

cora (daughter reader )

Jude Bellingham

so what are we doing now?

princess

our future

Timothée Chalamet

baby bump

us against the world

Kylian Mbappé

your biggest fan

love you just how you are

support

living the dream

pregnant

proposal

sad

released

the drunk girl

all alone or maybe not

the lawyer

you and me forever and ever 2

late at night with you

boss 2

crazy in love with you

pretty woman

Richarlison

never hurt her

my savior

Cristiano Ronaldo

sick

headcanon:

kylian mbappé dating a female rapper

kylian mbappé becoming a father

a/n//you can send requests

english is not my first language

[assortedseaglass]

The Seamstress & The Sailor - Chapter Thirteen

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Very strong language, NSFW themes (kinda smutty?), depictions of war, World on Fire spoilers

Word Count: 4.1K

Notes: The banner is absolute potato quality, soz. We’re gonna say hello to the Vaughns, but we’re with Tom for the majority of this chapter. If you’ve seen the series, you know what’s happening. Buckle in, my dudes.

Late May, 1940

“Up you get, Dadda.”

A hand tucked under each of Fergal’s arms and hoisted him from the pew. He looked blindly at the faces around him. Each solemn and unrecognisable through his grief. The only faces he knew where those of his daughters. Cora and Bess holding him upright, Dot rubbing his back as they walked him out of the church. Beautiful spectres in their mourning veils, the girls moved through the congregation, shook hands with the priest and entered the piercing sun of the June day.

A few of their friends and neighbours were gathered at the church steps. There was Dennis Warley, Mrs Mason and her children, Mrs O’Connell and Mrs Flaherty. Queenie Warren, Roberta, Hattie and Jude. Leading the sea of black was Lois, her bump growing by the day, and Douglas.

“Could you hold this?” Bess whispered to Lois, who nodded and took the order of service from her hands. At the bottom of the page, after the service readings and the parish notices, was a small note. Mass dedicated to the memory of Albert Michael Vaughn. Together, the group formed a procession that made its slow journey from the church to the Vaughn’s home. Occasionally, Fergal wobbled on his feet as a new wave of grief wracked him, and the procession paused as his daughters steadied him. A few people meandered into their own homes after kissing the girls and shaking Fergal’s hand. Mrs O’Connell and Mrs Flaherty brought round a selection of sandwiches for the mourners, and Queenie set about making tea. Douglas led Fergal to his armchair and set him down, while Lois cradled a hysterical Dot. Cora made her way to them, and along with Lois, held her shaking little sister.

“Bess, I’m off,” Queenie’s voice was quiet as she handed Bess a cup of tea. She tried to keep her voice measured as she spoke again. “He really was the best of them.” Bess removed her veil and nodded. Queenie kissed her on the cheek and departed. Roberta, Hattie and Jude were next to say their goodbyes, with promises to visit Bess in Manchester next weekend. Soon, the house was occupied by just the Vaughns and the Bennetts. Cora saw Dot to bed, then set about scrubbing the china more vigorously than Bess had ever seen, Lois helped her put away the remnants of the dreadful day. Douglas spent a silent hour with Fergal by the unlit hearth, holding his hand and sharing a glass of whisky. Outside on the front step, Bess sat alone, gazing at Tom’s photograph. When the front door opened, she hastily tucked it into the belt of her dress. Someone settled on the step beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Bess inhaled the familiar smell of laundry detergent and relaxed into the arms she had become so used to. She and Douglas sat there a while, neither speaking for there was nothing to say. Eventually, Bess whispered into the descending night.

“I just want to hold him.” With Albie’s body buried somewhere in France, the Vaughns had been unable to hold a funeral. Unable to see their beloved Albie one last time. The string had been cut, and Bess’ kindred spirit was no more. Beneath Douglas’ arms, she began to shake. “I feel untethered,” she choked out. “Like I’m going to float away.” For what felt like hours, Bess cried and cried into Douglas’ shoulder. He said nothing, merely stroked her hair and let her wail. When her sobs eased into hiccupping breaths, he took her face in his hands.

“You’ll make it through, I promise.” He kissed the top of her head, opened the front door and called for his daughter.

“Douglas,” Bess’ voice cracked with the effort of using it. “I have some of Albie’s old clothes. I wondered if you might take them for Jan, next time you visit the Chase’s?” The older man nodded with a sad smile.

“I’ll be round in the morning.”

Lois clung to her father’s arm as they crossed the road, and when they had shut the door to their own home, Bess retrieved the photograph from her belt. It was real. Albie was the first of them to die. How many more would there be now? It had started. She kissed Tom’s face and prayed. Keep him safe, keep him safe, keep him safe.

✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼

“God help the Jerries if that’s the look you give ‘em.” Norman laughed as he watched Tom read over his post. “I wouldn’t cross you in a month of Sundays.”

“I have a date with a solider from the infirmary. He’s called James. I think we’re going to the Palais. How are you managing with only men aboard ship?”

Tom’s bottom lip quirked with annoyance. “How long until the auxiliaries leave?”

“About an hour, I reckon.”

Tom nodded with resolve. That evening, the HMS Keith was to join Operation Dynamo in the attempt evacuate Dunkirk. In dock reloading with fuel and supplies for the men they to rescue, most sailors aboard were taking a few hours of shore leave before entering the fray. The air had been tense all morning. The resulting lack of crew meant that when Tom entered the mess hall, he found it empty. He took Bess’ photograph from its permanent residence in his pocket and placed it on the table with his paper and pen. This letter better be a good one.

But when he tried to write, nothing came. He stared at the blank paper, unable to escape the image of Bess and this James man dancing at the Palais. Tom smirked as an idea popped into his head. Lighting a cigarette, he picked up the pen and with a laugh, began to write.

Bess,

I know what you’re trying to do. Telling me all about your little date in the hopes it will make me jealous. Would it make you smile, love, if I told you it was working?

Tell me more about James, love. Is he tall? Is he handsome? Does he know you like I do? Does he know that you hate wearing pink because it clashes with your hair? That you sneak fudge from the picture house into your pocket? That you collected feathers and eggshells when you were small, or that you write secret letters to a criminal like me?

Can he read you like I can? Does he know that when you don’t wear make up, or curl your hair, you feel defiant? Or that when you’re angry, your eyebrows straighten? That you only smoke as a means to avoid speaking? That when your eyes darken and those perfect lips of yours part, when you blush and it spreads right across your nose, it means you desperately want fucking?

Can he satisfy you like I can, Bess? What’s it like when he holds you? Are his fingers long? Have they been inside you yet? I know I could do it, Bess, if you’d let me. I heard the way your breath hitched every time I touched you. I watched your chest heave every time I got close. I see the way you watch me, the way you’ve always watched me.

God, what I’d give. You’re all I think about. At night, when the other men are sleeping, or else touching their cocks and pretending no-one’s noticed, it’s you I see when I close my eyes. I replay the day I watched you changing behind the screen each night. The outline of your body. Damn your family for coming home. What would have happened, do you think? After I had pinned your body beneath mine? If I try, I can hear you moaning my name. I can feel your cunt against me. If your family hadn’t come home I’d have ravished you, Bess. I’d have fucked you with my mouth, my fingers, my cock. Watched you take me. Watched unflappable Bess Vaughn come undone by my body. Made love to you until your mind could think of nothing but me. Can this James boy do that for you? Can he satisfy you like I could?

I can’t take it anymore. I can’t kiss another woman and pretend it’s you, calling them by your name. I don’t want to imagine anymore what those nimble fingers of your can do. I’m tired of using my hand and pretending it’s your mouth around me. I’m mad with wanting you, love. I’ll kill any man that gets in my way to you. You’re mine, Bess. You tell James that.

Yours, hungrily,

Tom.

He stopped writing and reread the letter. His cigarette had dwindled to a stub and when he reached the end of the letter, Tom barked a laugh. At least that was out of his system. Perhaps, one day, he would give it to her. He folded the page, placed it in an envelope and wrote, simply, Bess on the front before tucking it into his pocket. When Tom took out the second page of paper, he hung his head and thought. Really thought, before placing the pen upon the page.

Dear Bess,

Thank you for the letter. Please, if it upsets you, don’t write anymore. Your letters are the best thing that happens to me at sea, but I couldn’t bear being the cause of more pain.

I’m sure you’ll have all heard back home, but we’re starting the evacuation tonight. I won’t lie to you Bess, I’m terrified. Thousands all herded onto one beach with us to rescue them. Feel like sitting ducks. We’re going into something big, Bess, and I’m scared I won’t come back.

If I don’t, know that I think of you every second of every day. And if this James fella doesn’t treat you well then I’ll haunt him until his dying day. I hope he makes you happy, Bess.

If I do come back, I’ll spend the rest of my days regretting what I did to you but know this, I will make it right. I adore you.

Think of me, as I’m forever thinking of you,

Yours, always,

Tom.

Tom rubbed the pen between his fingers. That was it. That was all. Writing Bess’ name and address on the envelope, he hurried from the mess hall back to the cabin he shared with Norman.

“Gonna get a last look at land,” he said as he opened the door and placed the two letters he had written on his bunk, one addressed and one not. “You coming?”

“Last look? You’re optimistic.” Norman lay on his side and watched Tom don his cap. “You’re alright, gonna stay here and get some rest before it all.”

“Right you are.” With that, Tom made his way to the __ deck and watched shadows of cloud drift across the French docks. Two minutes after he departed, a ratings officer knocked on the cabin door. Norman answered.

“Anything for the post before we leave?”

“Just these,” Norman grabbed a letter of his own, addressed to his parents, and the two from Tom’s bunk. “Hang on, he hasn’t addressed this one.” Hastily, he copied Bess’ address from one envelope to the other and handed them to the man at the door, who looked at the name.

“Two letters to one girl?” He whistled lowly. “She must be a special one.”

✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼

Despite the calm water and pastel sky, by the eve of the evacuation’s second day, Tom’s agitation was reaching fever pitch. Arms resting on his knees, he watched the point behind Norman’s head where the horizon burned. Dunkirk. Tom was in half a mind to wrestle a paddle from an oarsman, just to give himself something to do. Their lifeboat, capacity 40, made its slow way back to the beach and the 300,000 people waiting to be rescued. From their position a mile off the coast, the evacuees looked like ants fleeing a magnify glass.

“What’s on your mind, Tom?” Norman asked. His back was to the beach and Tom envied his brief position of ignorance.

“How come our ship is called HMS Keith?” Tom tried to sound light, breezy. “Keith isn’t the name you give a fighting ship.”

“You what?”

“All the other ships are called Atlantic, Calcutta, Dreadnought, and we get Keith.”

Norman shrugged. “Well? What’s the problem with that?”

Tom leant down to fix his shoe in order to give his hands focus. “Well, Keith was always the name of the kid who wore a balaclava till April, candlewax snot hanging from his nose.” He thought irresistibly of Frank Smith and Norman laughed at him. The sound lightened Tom’s mood and he continued the jest. “How many trips back and forth have we done? Twenty? And not one tip all day-”

“Would you like it better if it was HMS Tom?”

“If it was called HMS Tom it wouldn’t be here, mate. It’d be cruising round the brothels of the Med.” Tom’s arms came to rest once more on his knees, head oscillating a little as he fixed his mouth in a smirk. Norman thought it made him look cocky, like he was gearing up for a fight. Tom knew that it was a nervous twitch, something to make himself seem bigger when danger loomed. He glanced behind Norman again. They were getting closer. Black smoke billowed in the town beyond the beach and the fearful shouting of the stranded filled the air like braying horses.

By the time they made it to the beach, Tom’s agitation had turned itself into reassurances to the soldiers and an eagerness to be as far away from France as possible. So close to England, it was almost as if he could smell home over the sea and gunpowder.

“Move it lads! Fritz is due to call again soon and he won’t be selling ice creams. You’ve had all day to sunbathe, just get on board, let’s go home, eh?” He called to the queue of soldiers shuffling into the shallow water. They looked like the living dead. Behind him, Norman and the oarsmen hauled them into the lifeboat. “Go on, here you are pal.” Tom gripped the shoulder of a man as he stumbled on the unstable ground. A young man in civilian clothing took his chance and pushed forward through the queue. Tom spotted him in an instant, pushing the man back as he tried to board the boat. “No chance, get to the back and wait your turn.”

“You can’t stop me,” The man looked like a ghost, eyes rimmed with purple circles and face ashen with tiredness. He wasn’t French, though from where, Tom didn’t know. The stranger lunged forwards.

“Oh yeah?” Tom pulled a pistol from the waistband of his uniform. “I can with this. Jerry’s only gone for his tea break. If we don’t get away on this tide, we get sunk, so killing you’s a small price if it stops all these fellas buying it too.” Tom hated this. He’d let him on if he could, but thousands of angry soldiers would end him before the Germans if he did. What’s more, with a tiny boat full of scared and exhausted men, he needed to assert that he was in control. It was chaos enough on the beach, God help them if it spilled over into the rescue boats.

The man stumbled forward and spoke lowly, pressing his chest into the gun. “I’m ready for death.”

“We’re all fucking ready for death, mate.” Tom scoffed and indicated at the men surrounding him. “We’re all ready for death.” Once more, he pointed the gun towards the man.

“SHOOT ME!” The man screamed. Before the war, it would have stunned Tom, but he’d seen too much to know that death was a welcome choice by many now. In the dark of the night, he thought about it too. Tom watched all hope fade from the man’s eyes and was about to take his hand when another solider grabbed the stranger by the shoulders.

“Get out of the way,” he growled, pulling him backwards until he fell into the shallows. “Get back and fight for your country, you Polish bugger.”

Thankful, Tom continued calling to the soldiers. “Right, behave lads. Any more hassle and we’ll be going home with a boat half full, alright? Now come on. I’ll put the kettle on for us, eh? Let’s go home.”

“You won’t want any of his tea,” Norman shouted as he pulled another man into the lifeboat. “Bath water tastes better.” A few soldiers let out half-hearted laughs, which for Tom and Norman, was an achievement in itself. They smiled at each other a moment and, there with his friend, Tom forgot about the war around them. For that second, they were just two friends on the beach at sunset. The sounds of war had faded.

A muted thud carried across the expanse of beach. Then another. The dull thumping of metal and rock. From the clouds above, Luftwaffe descended. Two from the east and two from the west, they wailed their battle cry. Sand soared into the air, each mound rising closer and closer to the boat. Tom froze. He looked around. Men were scrambling towards the boats, back up the beach towards the town. Debris from the already bombed out boats and trucks ripped through the air, through bodies. Like dominos men fell, or else were blown into the sky. Was Tom ready to die? If I don’t come back, know that I think of you every second of every day. He saw her. Sat at the piano. At the dancehall, tucked under the blankets and sat on the front step. On the carousel, hair aflame under the lights.

Boom, boom, BOOM. A missile struck the lifeboat nearest Tom’s own, and in a flash, he ran. From all sides, metal, sand and viscera attacked his senses. Weaving around scattered bodies, Tom ran as his eyes scanned the beach. What he was searching for, he didn’t know. Somewhere to hide? Someone sent to rescue the rescuers? The juddering of gunfire sounded and screams rent the air. Keep weaving. Bullets flew past his ears and he ducked. Through the mist of sand, he saw the metal hull of an overturned truck. If he could just reach it, he could clammer inside or hide beneath it. Twenty metres. His legs were burning. Ten metres. Next to him a man dropped. Five metres. Hot pain ripped through his shoulder. He could smell the burning of his own flesh. Taste gunpowder and iron on the air. The force of the bullet caused Tom to stagger and, breathless with pain, he collapsed.

✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼

The clattering of the ceramic pan rang echoed throughout the ward, and Bess fell into a seat by the soldier’s bed.

“What is the meaning of this?” The matron hissed as she stormed towards Bess. Joan and Helen looked at her from their nearby stations. Since the death of her brother, Bess’ ‘funny turns’, as Joan and Helen called them, increased but she had always managed to push through until now.

“I’m sorry, Sister Stern,” Bess knelt from the chair and fumbled to pick up the equipment. “I’m sorry-” A pair of gleaming boots entered her vision and she looked up. Sister Stern was staring at her down the bridge of her pinched nose.

“You’re white as a sheet,” the matron said, placing a hand on Bess’ forehead. “And burning up. Go home at once. You’re no use to us here in this state.”

“Yes, Sister.” Bess bowed her head, not looking at her friends as hurried away. Bess didn’t go home as the matron demanded. Instead, she boarded the first bus for Longsight. Something told her she had to get to the Bennett’s.

She heard him before she saw him. From beyond the turning to their street, Bess heard Douglas’ shouts through the fog.

“Anybody in?” There was the unmistakable thundering of fists on doors. “Hey? Are you in? Come on! Help me-” Bess’ feet hurried along the cobbles. More banging. “Hello? Are you in? Help me, help me, help me. Come on!” By the time she made out the man amongst the fog he was trembling, hands over his eyes and cowering on the pavement. Bess ran to him just as he slumped onto the floor.

“Douglas, ssh, come on.” She struggled to lift him. “Let’s get you inside.” Two more figures arrived through the haze.

“Dad?” Lois and Connie rushed forward and placed their arms beneath Douglas’.

“Help me get him in,” Bess said to Connie. “Lois, you get the door.” It was half an hour before the three women managed to get Douglas settled, and even then he muttered under his breath and stared into nothingness.

“I know it. I can feel it in here,” Douglas indicated to his chest, and Bess looked at the kitchen table scattered with newspapers and a magnifying glass. Another chip broke away from her heart.

“Any real news? Not one of your “feelings” like Gypsy Rose Lee on Blackpool Prom.” Lois said gently. She was just like Cora, and Bess gazed at her in awe. Pregnant and alone to look after her father, Lois Bennett was extraordinary.

“If anything’s happened to him, I made him go,” Douglas mumbled. “I told him to go. I…I made him-”

“Dad,” Lois tried to reason with him.

“I’m no dad. I’m no father. No father to you. No father to him. I’m no father, me.” Connie and Bess looked at each other as Douglas continued to spiral. “We just have to wait now.” He stood abruptly and made his way to the wireless.

“They’re not going to announce anything on the radio, are they? Not just like that-” Bess heard the plea in Lois’ voice but she was cut off by her father.

“Shut up, will you?”

Bess whispered to Connie. “I’ll back in a minute.” Connie merely nodded and watched Bess speed across the road. Dadda would know what to do. Wiping tears from her eyes, she opened the door to her childhood home.

“Dadda?” She called out. “Dadda?” No-one replied. Deflated, Bess realised that everyone would still be at work. Just as she turned to leave the house, a thud came from above her head. Tentatively, nervously, Bess made her way upstairs. “Hello?” The door to her old bedroom was open. Nothing. No-one. Across the hall, the door to her father’s room was ajar. “Dadda?” She pushed it open. Face down, drool spilling from his mouth, Fergal was asleep on the bed. One arm was flung out across the bed and beneath the hand that lolled over the frame, an empty whisky bottle lay on its side on the floor. She stared at his pitiful state for a moment, then her eyes drifted to the empty bed next to the door. Set out, perfectly folded atop the quilt, was a jumper and pair of moleskin trousers. A framed photo was propped on the pillow, and Albie smiled gently at her from the faded image. Bess wanted to scream. Instead, she stepped from the room and slammed the door to her old bedroom. She heard her father grunt. Good. She couldn’t care less about his sore head and sorry state. Sitting on the bed she once shared with Dot, Bess opened her purse and took out the photograph she always carried with her.

“Don’t you dare be dead, Tom Bennett. Don’t you dare.”

Notes: Woof. Writing this has been a rollercoaster. Just a little note again to say that I replaced Fred in the episode with lovely Norman. Poor Grzegorz too. I’m hoping we’ll see him and Tom interact again in WoF series 2, considering Grzegorz is now in Manchester. Also, the letter situation is very obviously inspired by Atonement, which incidentally has one of the best Dunkirk scenes in cinema!! Next chapter soon!

Tags: @aemonds-wifey @multiple-fandoms-girl @jessssica1234 @babyblue711 @anditsmywholeheart @allthefandomtherapy @valerie977 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @chainsawsangel @greenowlfactif @thelittleswanao3 @yentroucnagol @beiigegalx @skikikikiikhhjuuh @just-emmaaaa @mefools @aquakaris @its-actually-minicika @whoknows333 @arcielee @honeymaltgelato @girlwith-thepearlearring

[brok3n]

⭑ ˙₊⁺𓈒 ࣪LOOKING FOR DISCORD 1x1 PARTNERS⭒ ִֶָ˙ 𓈒˙₊⁺

hi there! i’m looking for some new rp partners to write with on discord. i tend to write in third person paragraphs and ask that my partner does the same. also, please be 18+. under the cut are a list of parings i’d like and the bolded characters are who i would play. like this if you are interested!

american horror story:

mallory / michael, kyle / zoe, & violet / tate.

anyone but you:

bea / ben.

bottoms:

hazel / pj, isabel / josie, & brittany / isabel.

boys, the:

annie / hughie, kimiko / frenchie, & becca / billy.

bridgerton:

anthony / kate, edwina / frederick, violet / edmund, charlotte / george, benedict / sophie, penelope / colin, eloise / sir philip, & eloise / theo.

caraval:

scarlett / julian, donatella / legend, & evangeline / jacks.

corpse bride:

emily / victor.

daisy jones and the six:

daisy / billy, camila / eddie, lisa / warren, & karen / graham.

dc:

dinah / helena, harley / ivy, harley / flag, selina / bruce, diana / steve, & raven / beast boy.

disney:

tink / peter pan, belle / beast, jasmine / aladdin, rapunzel / flynn, tiana / naveen, ariel / eric, & anna / kristoff.

five nights at freddy’s:

vanessa / mike, chica / foxy, & charlie / elizabeth.

folk of the air:

jude / cardan & taryn / locke.

grishaverse:

alina / darkling, shadow summoner oc / darkling, nina / matthias, kaz / inej, & nikolai / zoya.

invitation, the.

evie / walter.

knives out:

marta / ransom.

lisa frankenstein:

lisa / creature.

mean girls:

janis / regina & cady / aaron.

never have i ever.

ben / devi, trent / eleanor, aneesa / fabiola, & lindsay / paxton.

once upon a time:

emma / killian & august / ruby.

percy jackson and the olympians:

annabeth / percy, sally / poseidon, & thalia / luke.

ready or not:

grace / daniel.

red, white, and royal blue.

henry / alex.

rick and morty:

jessica / morty, unity / rick, beth / jerry, & tammy / summer.

scream:

chad / tara, danny / sam, ghost face oc / ethan.

teen wolf:

lydia / stiles & cora / isaac.

vampire diaries:

hope / landon, lizzie / landon, lizzie / mg.

[best-character-named-x-poll]

Best Character Named X Poll

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

please send suggestions via ask so i can see them, replies get lost in the notes. I reply chronologically so very sorry if it takes a while for me to answer

INBOX CLOSED DUE TO EXAM SEASON

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

Round 177: Lily

Round 178: Chris

Round 179: Joy

Round 180: Cain

Round 181: Leela

Round 182: Todd

Round 183: Kelly

Past Polls

Poll Ideas under the cut

Names that I have a complete list for*

Caroline, Rebecca, Steve, Victoria, Katherine, Robin, Clark, Phoebe, Julian, Nancy, Penny, Erica, Theresa, George, Felix, Michael, Charlotte, Diana, Zoe, Connor, Daisy, Maya, Andy, Alma, Nora, Juno, Otto, Donald, Angel, Judy, Jo, Hazel, Diego, Miranda, Lila, Duncan, Dexter, Meredith, Pearl, Malcolm, Napolean, Joan, Nico, Jamie, Kiera, Tam, Klaus, Luna, Laila, Zack, Imogen, Felicity, Cindy, Alicia, Alan, April, Astrid, Delilah, Jodie, Claudia, Juliet, Jonas, Milo, Celia, Katya, Atticus, Ian, Cynthia, Boo, River, Corey, Minerva, Ebony, Zia, Beverly, Rudy, Quentin, Marvin, Miriam, Roxy, Percy, Bianca, Shirley, Beatrice, Amara, Cleo, Cecil, Amaya, Ryan, Mabel, May, August, Manny, Francis, Matilda, Deborah, Josh, Jared, Sabrina, Kendra, Angus, Ophelia, Liesel, Zelda, Fitz, Aurora, Ramona, Misty, Talia, Orion, Roy, Kala, Madeline, Anastasia, Anna, Kit, Marian, Lena, Polly, Cora, Leah, Jules, Artemis, Irene, Margo, Laurie, Laurel, Hilda, Valentine, Reggie, Felicia, Joe, Monty, Quinn, Skye, Walter, Christine, Marissa, Edmund, Hope, Oberon, Lorna, Ace, Wally, Calvin, Alana, Jasper, Fergus, Bridget, Ulrich, Roger, Mason, Stella, Lenore, Wanda, Miguel, Winona, Hannibal, Newt, Aiden, Oscar, Tobias, Dorian, Dorothy, Una, Marnie, Mirabel, Wendel, Dora, Mort, Olympia, Toby, Chip, Harvey, Mara, Fearne, Axel, Gil, Bo, Remy, Rue, Leslie, Isabelle, Silas, Agnes, Luther, Sally, Delia, Zeke, Richter, Skylar, Scarlet, Bernard, Rusty, Ray, Nigel, Cosmo, Ruth, Selina, Harley, Blue, Cain, Warren, Missy, Perry, Paige, Duke, Tao, Gemma, Cornelius, Declan, Wendy, Apollo, Celeste, Clyde, Nicole, Summer, Hugh, Esther, Cole, Jean (french), Tatiana, Carl, Kieran, Melody, Adrian, Travis, Vivian, Haley, Elle, Prudence, Hans, Ralph, Azrael, Constance, Lauren, Molly, Agatha, Pauline, Athena, Darcy, Stan, Dana, Lee, Ford, Red, Stuart, Camille, Bruce, Cliff

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

Richter, Dylan, Chad, Moe, Dean, Guy, Yasmin, Woody, Alina, Freya, Adora, Piper, Gabriel, Owen, Noah, Taylor, Dawn, Ayesha, Parker, Chase, Hunter, Tina, Tanya, Cameron, Rudolf, Melvin, Melanie, Melissa, Melinda, Wolf, Orlando, Adele, Adeline, Jem, Dolores, Jude, Callie, Irma, Lara, Ginger, Terry, Bellamy, Jacob, Jackson, Reese, Nemo, Addison, Adelaide, Candy, Harriet, Abraham, Ragnar, Rupert, Ella, Destiny, Wendy, Bernard, Hero, Drew, Anita, Raphael, Wallace, Jean (feminine), Elena, Cheryl, Rita, Blair, Hugo, Ike, Gaius, Lance, Lois, Riley, Shane, Rod, Tegan, Matthias, Liam, Jed, Caeser, Ellis, Dennis, Josie, Mick, Mike, Heather, Trixie, Amber, Bailey, Esme, Ada, Briar, Puck, Eden, Annette, Letitia, Giselle, Suki, Zain, Keith, Ron, Olaf, Wilfred, Blaine, Pam, Brianna, Clive, Sabine, Roman, Carina, Kalina, Mindy, Wade, Julia, Marlene, Lex, Edith, Monet, Marina, Zara, Tsukasa, Octavia, Marcus, Elias, Mira, Sasha, Glen, Yukari, Dinah, Sloane, Farah, Norman

Feel free to send more suggestions

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

[speaksleazy]

⚠︎ ⟮ NPTs ⟯ ... Murder_drones.mp3 ⟩ Uzi Doorman

﹫ ❲ Requested by anonymous ❳

「 NAMES 」

Uzi¹, Uziel / Uzielle², Suzie / Suzi / Suzy, Ooze / Oozie, Yuri³, Uri, Nuri, Ezra, AK-47¹, M16¹, Bayonette¹, Shrapnelle, Railgunne, Cora, Blaidd, Vex / Vox, Crow, Corvid / Corvidae, Wolf / Wolfe / Wulf, Darknesse, Zomb / Zombie / Zombi, Avery, Jessi, Edgie, Nightcora / Nightcorie, Luna, Glitch, Vicky / Vickie, Mirrorre, Shatterre, Shard, Seventeen / 17 / 017, Darkexwolf, Synth, Misfortune, Six, Asher, Hexa, Batty, Renegade, Knives, Rave, Raven / Ravenne, Magnette, Maggie, Redacted / [REDACTED], Kandii, Axel / Axelle, Sid / Sidney, Jude, Terezi⁴, Vriska⁴, Ziggy, Angst / Angsty / Angstie, Yvonne, Nori, Mayday

¹ After firearms and weaponry. ² Hebrew. ³ Japanese. ⁴ After the characters from Homestuck.

「 PRONOUNS 」

Sh3/H3r, Crow/Crows, Caw/Caws, Sh_/H_r, Shx/Hxr, Dare/Dares, H_/H_m, Void/Voids, Shred/Shreds, H3/H1m, Rot/Rotz, Hx/Hxm, Th_y/Th_m, Violet/Violets, Glare/Glares, Blade/Blades, Th3y/Th3m, Xe/Xem, Rail/Gun, Shatter/Shard, Murder/Murders, Kandi/Kandis, Glitch/Glitches, ✘/✘s, :3/:3s, >:3/>:3s, !!/!!s, ?!/?!s, XD/XDs, ★/★s, ×/×s, ☠/☠s, 🧷/🧷s, 👾/👾s

「 TITLES 」

( Prn ) who shatters mirrors with ( prn ) gaze, ( Prn ) who walks among murder / disassembly drones, ( Prn ) with a purple / violet stare / glare, ( Prn ) with a kickass railgun, Darkxwolf17, ( Prn ) corvid form, ( Prn ) zombie / undead form, The coolest / sickest / angstiest worker drone, The daughter / son / child of Nori, ( Prn ) who is infected with absoluteSolver, ( Prn ) who is made of stainless steel

[wannabecatwriter]

List 3 of your favorite sims from other simmers you enjoy and explain why (Send this to 10 other blogs) 🌈

Thanks for the ask! This has been in my inbox for ages, it seems.

Citrine from @silversims

She's been through a lot and is still kicking it.

Cora and Jude from @shesthespinstersimmer

These ladies are doing their best to handle what life's throwing at them, and they're not giving up. Respect.

Robin from @rebouks

Is he still a tiny kiddo? Yes. Is he already dealing with a whole array of issues he's nowhere near prepared to deal with? Yes. Looking forward to seeing more of this little guy.

[cresswellslover]

[MASTERLIST]

friend me on goodreads <3

One-Shots

Tell Me (Elucien)

Two Broken Souls (Gwynriel)

Moonlit Promise (Gwynriel)

Book Playlists

Aelin and Rowan (Throne of Glass)

Manon and Dorian (Throne of Glass)

Feyre and Rhysand (A Court of Thorns and Roses)

Nesta and Cassian (A Court of Thorns and Roses)

Gwyneth and Azriel (A Court of Thorns and Roses)

Lidia and Ruhn (Crescent City)

Evangeline and Jacks (Once Upon a Broken Heart)

Audrey Rose and Thomas (Stalking Jack the Ripper)

Emilia and Wrath (Kingdom of the Wicked)

Juliette and Roma (These Violent Delights)

Jude and Cardan (The Folk of the Air)

Sarai and Lazlo (Strange the Dreamer)

Tessa and Will (The Infernal Devices)

Cordelia and James (The Last Hours)

Emma and Julian (The Dark Artifices)

Citra and Rowan (Arc of a Scythe)

Lila and Kell (Shades of Magic)

Nina and Matthias (Six of Crows)

Darcy and Lance (Zodiac Academy)

Hermione and Draco (Manacled)

Daisy and Christian (Magnolia Parks)

Book Sorters

Book Couples Sorter

Book Boyfriends Sorter

Book Girlfriends Sorter

Throne of Glass Characters Sorter

Sarah J. Maas Books Sorter

Cora Reilly’s Book Boyfriends Sorter

Rina Kent’s Book Boyfriends Sorter

Taylor Swift Sorters

Debut Sorter

Fearless (Taylor’s Version) Sorter

Speak Now Sorter

Red (Taylor’s Version) Sorter

1989 Sorter

Reputation Sorter

Lover Sorter

Folklore Sorter

Evermore Sorter

Folklore and Evermore Sorter

Midnights Sorter

Taylor Swift Sorter

The Tortured Poets Department Sorter

[theinquisitxor]

January 2023 Reading Wrap-Up

I read a whopping 15 books this month, which is the most I think I've ever read in a month. That is partially due to novella audiobooks, as I could get through each one in 4-5 hours. But, looking at previous Januarys, I do tend to read the most during this month. Most noteworthy: After starting the Wayward Children series back in 2019, I made myself catch up to the most recent release!

1.In An Absent Dream (Wayward Children #4) by Seanan Mcguire. 4/5 stars. This is one of my favorites of the series, and I saw aspects of myself in Elizabeth. This novella also contains many things I enjoy- especially goblin markets and bargains. portal fantasy, audiobook, novella.

2.The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon (trans. Lucia Graves) 4/5 stars. This may be the book that was on my physical tbr the longest. I got this book in high school and it followed me through college and now to my post-college life. I really enjoyed the immersiveness of this story; it makes me want to travel to Barcelona and retrace the footsteps of the characters. The story slowly built up to an explosive and cinematic ending, with twists and turns I did not see coming. I'm not 100% sure if I'm going to read the rest in the series though. historical fiction.

3.Come Tumbling Down (Wayward Children #5) by Seanan Mcguire. 3/5 stars. This was not my favorite, and while I'm glad I got to see how Jack and Jill's story resolved, this book felt largely unnecessary. However it was cool that Seanan Mcguire narrated the audiobook herself. portal fantasy, audiobook, novella

4.Ninth House (Alex Stern #1) by Lehigh Bardugo. 5/5 stars. I reread this in anticipation for the release of book 2, and I enjoyed this even more than the first time. This series is one of my favorite works-in-progress. fantasy

5.Sofi and the Bone Song by Adrienne Tooley. 4/5 stars. This was a sweet, enjoyable, wintery read. I read this mainly because I am always on the hunt for books that feature music/musicians as main characters. This was definitely younger-ya, and featured a sapphic romance. I can forgive some of the faults of this book for how much I enjoyed it. young adult fantasy.

6.Across the Green Grass Fields (Wayward Children #6) by Seanan Mcguire. 3/5 stars. I was expecting this book to be a favorite based off the setting/premise of the story, but I found it lacking in many ways. I related to Regan about girlhood and growing up, however I was left wanting more from the story. This one felt very underdeveloped. fantasy, novella, audiobook.

7.Where the Drowned Girls Go (Wayward Children #7) by Seanan Mcguire. 3.5/5 stars. I enjoyed this one more than the previous two, with the exploration of Cora and the introduction of the anthesis to Eleanor West's school. audiobook, fantasy, novella.

8. Hell Bent (Alex Stern #2) by Lehigh Bardugo. 5/5 stars. This was fantastic and I enjoyed it just as much as the first book. Lehigh is really good at writing these types of stories, and I hope I don't have to wait another 4 years for book 3! fantasy.

9.Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett. 5/5 stars. This is a new favorite, and a wonderfully witty book about academics, faeries and folklore. This reminded me of HMC and Spinning Silver, and was just perfect. Cozy historical fantasy

10.The Cruel Prince (The Folk of the Air #1) by Holly Black. 3.5/5 stars. I reread this on audio in anticipation for The Stolen Heir. I wanted to reread the OG trilogy first, and the audiobook narrator was awesome, and this was a fun reread. I don't think I enjoyed this book quite as much as when I first read it, but I was also Jude's age and these books were much more my *thing* back then. Listening on audio was a great way to listen to the story without feeling like I had to be super dedicated to it. audiobook, Ya fantasy

11. The Wicked King (The Folk of the Air #2) by Holly Black.5/5 stars. This book is definitely my favorite of the 3, and I find it so entertaining and fun to listen to. Jude is awesome in this book, and a lot of the other characters grow and get more fleshed out as well. audiobook, ya fantasy

12.World Without End (Kingsbridge 2) by Ken Follett. 4/5 stars: This is set in the same town, Kingsbridge, but set 200 years after the first book and following a new set of characters. These books are basically a middle ages soap opera, and I just find them so entertaining. historical fiction.

13.Lost in the Moment and Found (Wayward Children 8) by Seanan Mcguire, 4/5 stars. This is probably my favorite of the series other than book 1. I enjoyed the story behind this one a lot, and all the little easter eggs that come up from the rest of the series was so much fun. I can't believe I binge read this series, but now have to wait a year for the next! audiobook, fantasy, novella.

14.Women's Bookscapes in Early Modern Britain: Reading, Ownership and Circulation. This was my nonfiction for the month, and I had seen this book in the library and checked it out to myself. The subject was interesting to me, and I enjoyed reading through this collection of thirteen essays on the topic. Definitely very academic and dense however. non-fiction.

15.Gallant by V.E. Schwab, 2/5 stars. This one was a disapointement, and it felf underdeveloped and lackluster all around. After Addie LaRue also being a flop for me, my trust in VE Schwab is wavering :(

7 audiobooks, 8 physical books. 5 novellas, 10 novels. 12 fantasy, 2 historical fiction, 1 nonfiction. Average rating: 3.9

[cccccmiklosovic]

cora’s main masterlist <3

marauders

james potter

sirius black

remus lupin

lily evans

regulus black

golden trio era

fred weasley

george weasley

mattheo riddle

tom riddle

draco malfoy

the cruel prince

cardan greenbriar

jude duarte

[shesthespinstersimmer]

Square Biz (4)

Previous / Beginning / Next

LO: Know what? Send out a group email - tell everyone next meeting they each have to bring a fresh idea for next year's editions.

JUDE: Inspired yet?

CORA: You have no idea. I can't wait to get home and tell you all about it.

[ Meanwhile, in San Myshuno... ]

( Redd knocks )

CAPTAIN: It's open.

REDD:

Hey, Daddy.

What'd you need me to do?

CAPTAIN: What do I need? I need you to cut the bullshit and tell me what's going on.

[callmejud3]

BROOO WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WHEN DID U TURN 15??

HAHAHAH MY BIRTHDAY IS JANUARY 4th !!

[abigailcwrites]

old-fashioned english names for fictional characters

light emphasis on old-fashioned, as some of these first names are slowly becoming more popular.

feminine

amelia

audrey

genevieve

claire

madeline

evangeline

florence

violet

diana

penelope

isabelle

adelaide

maisie

regina

ramona

cornelia

eve

cora

lilliana

bernadette

octavia

masculine

samuel

william

atticus

demetri

leonard

benjamin

alexander

claude

finnian

lincoln

frederick

sebastian

theodore

alaric

alistair

ivan

colin

thomas

nathaniel

felix

neutral

connie

darcy

ezra

cameron

jordan

bailey

robin

kendall

lonnie

piper

addison

emerson

james

jude

surnames

booker

harrington

montgomery

wakefield

boone

sutcliffe

butterworth

gilbert

alderidge

mccoy

harris

forrest

winters

sanders

ivers

evans

abbott

darlington

kingswood

seagrove

[assortedseaglass]

The Seamstress & The Sailor - Chapter Seven

Tom Bennett x OFC

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Language, World On Fire Spoilers

Word Count: 3.7K

Note: I like to imagine the banner is of Tom writing letters in his bunk. Can't wait for Chapter Eight!

November 1939

Dear Tom,

Another letter, I am impressed.

This one almost slipped me by – Dot opened the door when Dennis Warley came by with the post. I wanted to make some new trousers and ordered a pattern from the haberdashers, and it came with your letter. Apparently he said it’s good men don’t want me because dadda has someone to look after him when he’s old. You know what Dot’s like. Cora said she launched herself at Dennis and the post almost wasn’t delivered.

Her and Cora are still at the factory, though missing your Lois and Connie enormously. We had a letter from Albie yesterday. He’s in France now, helping with the refugees from Poland. Luckily he’s not been in too much danger. With them and Albie off in Europe, and you at sea, our world has become a little lonelier.

There was a dance the other night at The Palais, though the women outranked the men by about four to one. Makes a change. There is a great deal less drunkenness and wandering hands, but we do miss you all. And I’d happily exchange Walter Watson. I don’t suppose you’ll have heard about that? Was in France for two weeks and got invalided out. Not shot by the enemy like he told us, worst luck. Albie said in his letter that Walter was having it off with a Polish girl when her father found them. Well, he’s come back with his arm in a sling and is somehow as handsy as ever. Tried to put his hand up my skirt. Even Queenie Warren told him where to go. She’s been ever so down in the mouth since you all left, men were her sole source of entertainment, though I heard her and Frank Smith have been writing.

Cora is blue as well. Her Roger has been training every hour God sends. They’re expecting the RAF to start regular flights, though what, we’re not allowed to know. I suppose, that’s my main news – Roger got me a job at the Air Transport Auxiliary. I’m making planes, constructing the wings mostly. I love the smell of the metal and the oil, and working with my hands. Roberta is here too, though she’s driving the goods vans. Hattie and Jude have left to help the Land Army prepare for spring. They’re not too far away but they work round the clock.

I was listening to the wireless when I got your letter. There have been rumours that the government will ask most women to do war work next year. There goes the hope we’d be down Belle Vue in the spring. I’m glad, though, that the government has realised we are capable of lifting more than a hairbrush and lipstick, even if it has come at the cost of war. We’re more than just objects to colour men’s lives. Perhaps with all this war work, more of us will start wearing trousers and Dennis Warley can piss off. They mentioned rationing, too. Think it’ll affect the likes of Robina Chase more than us, but I don’t think Dadda will manage without sugar in his tea. Heaven forbid they cut eggs and bacon. Of course, that’ll mean no new clothes for a long while. I don’t mind but Dot will be distraught.

Dadda’s been spending a lot of time with yours. They go out on these long walks round the dockyard. Sometimes they even stay up later than me. I can see them in your kitchen, just talking. It did make me laugh the other day – sat there in their chairs by the fire, they look just like Mrs O’Connell and Mrs Flaherty down the road. But then I suppose, they have each other because they lost their husbands. Now, our dads’ have each other because you and Albie have gone.

What is it like there? I want to hear everything. How are the other lads? I hope you’re getting along. There’s a map on the wall at the factory and when I look at all that ocean, I imagine you in a little paper boat skittering across is. There’s not a day that goes by when I don’t think of Albie, and of you. Do you think His Majesty will let you home for Christmas? Good for morale to let his soldiers come home. We’re hoping Albie will.

I had the thought that I should speak in letters from now on. Everyone is always telling me how quiet I am, yet here I’ve been writing pages and pages to you. I know I’m not good at talking, not like the others, but I can say it here – I miss you. Please, for me and for your dad, keep yourself safe. And write again soon.

Your friend,

Bess.

P.S. Make sure you write to Douglas, he’s suffering from missing you both.

Bess placed the finished letter in its envelope and wrote the address.

Tom Bennett

HMS Exeter

c/o Royal Navy Auxiliary

Portsmouth

Once the ink was dry and she had traced her finger over his name once or twice, Bess ate the remaining crust of her toast, drew on her blue jumper and cycled to the Air Transport Auxiliary factory. Straddling the cool metal of the planes as she drove nuts and bolts into their wings, Bess thought of her mother. She and Douglas had been courting during the Great War, but unlike Bess and her sisters, all she had to do with her time was wait. Wait for Douglas to come home with nothing else to occupy her thoughts. Bess was sick with worry, so much so that when she woke in the mornings without the churning of her stomach, she felt something was wrong. It wasn’t until sleep had faded and she remembered the war that the feeling returned, and she felt normal again. These few hours of respite at the factory, while they didn’t sway her fear, certainly calmed her. And who knows where these planes might go? Over the heads of Albie, or Tom, defending them from above? Into sun-kissed clouds, skirting heaven? And here she was, one of the girls making them fly.

By the time Bess finished her shift, grey clouds were low over Manchester and night was descending.

“Do you want a lift honey? Looks like it’s gonna chuck it down.” Roberta asked as they left the hangar. Bess declined, and they went their separate ways. Along with the other women, all covered in dirt and sweat, she meandered towards the factory gate, where a group of jeering men stood in a circle. At their feet, someone was on the floor, scrabbling to reach paper that was blowing away in the wind. As she got closer, Bess saw that they were boys, not yet eighteen perhaps. Except for one. Walter Watson.

“You’re a fucking disgrace,” he was saying to the man on the floor. “Handing out that horse shit.” The boys around Walter laughed. As they did so, the man on the ground stood. He was taller and broader than them, his face craggy with woe and as he turned, Bess saw the weary eyes of Douglas Bennett. She continued walking forward as passers-by ignored the altercation.

“Fucking coward,” one of the boys said. “Stood here selling your fucking peace paper when our lads are out fighting for their lives. For your life!” The youth jabbed bony his finger into Douglas’ chest. Bess was feet from them now, and still Douglas did nothing. It made her proud not to see him back down.

It was easy to infiltrate the circle; she was the smallest of this beastly party and each man was too focused on their abuse of Douglas to notice.

“You know Walter got shot!?”

“That’s not what I heard.”

They froze, and every face turned slowly towards her. Grease streaked her face and she reeked of metal and oil. The hands that had been folded across her chest slipped into her pockets and she leant slightly on one leg, hip jutting just enough to remind them of her womanhood. Some of the younger boys, who knew Bess only by her reputation, swallowed. Walter, who had known Bess long enough to watch her grow from witchy little girl to one of the most bewitching women in Longsight, looked ready to combust. Caught somewhere between anger and fear.

“Our Albert said a Polish fella broke your arm when he caught you balls deep in his daughter.”

Walter spluttered and his gang of underlings remained silent, shocked by the coarseness of her language. Douglas laughed.

“Did he really?” His smile was broad as he looked at Bess and she beamed back. She snatched the papers that Walter held in his hand and passed them to Douglas. Neither spoke and the argument was won; one by one, the boys shuffled home.

When the last of them had disappeared from sight, Douglas spoke. “Thanks, love.” Bess merely shrugged and began walking away. “If you’re heading home I’ll give you a lift.”

“Free bus ticket?” Bess said.

“No,” Douglas laughed quietly, and walked towards the bike resting against the factory wall. “Hop on.” He held the bike still as she perched on the handlebars and leant back against his shoulder. Bess shrieked at the first few wobbly turns of the pedal as Douglas adjusted to both of their weight, but soon, they were racing along the streets of Manchester towards home. “Used to take Lois home like this if she’d had a long shift.”

They were silent for the rest of the journey. Occasionally, they saw someone they knew and Bess would wave. From behind her, Douglas touched his cap. When she hopped of the bike outside her house, she turned to Douglas. “How is Lois getting on?”

“They’re working her hard. It’s an awful lot of toing and froing between camps. But she said she gets a thrill from singing for everyone. Nice to be doing her bit, you know.” He looked at the ground as he spoke, and Bess hummed.

“And Tom?” Bess tried to keep her voice measured.

“Barely hear from him. Last letter said he was on shore leave for a day or two, enjoying himself too much, no doubt”.

“I’m sure they’re fine, they can look after themselves.” He nodded solemnly. “Goodnight, Douglas.”

✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼

Over the next few weeks Bess developed a routine that, while unable to ease her worry, made the time go faster. It went thus; each morning she arose before her family, as always, and began breakfast. Cora would join her, and together they fed the family before each parting ways to their various jobs. Between nine and five, she worked at the factory. Lunchtimes were taken at the dockyard with Fergal. At five o’clock she helped Douglas Bennett hand out Peace News, and at six he cycled them home. The evenings she wasn’t with Roberta, Hattie and Jude, or repairing clothes (she had taken the task to make a little more money), she spent at the Bennett house. Be it cooking dinners, listening to Douglas’ opinions on the government and the war, or simply sitting in amicable silence, Bess found she increasingly enjoyed his company.

She had always liked Douglas. When the children were little Fergal, Etta, Douglas and Marie had taken them on picnics to Blackpool or Southport. Tom and Albie always ran into the surf and terrorised Cora and Lois. Dot was still small, making sandcastles while Etta and Marie talked the day away. Inevitably, Bess found herself trailing Douglas as he pointed out patterns in the clouds or interesting shells. Even now, Bess was drawn in by the gentle eyes set in his stoic face. The small smiles he offered when something had pleased him. The unshakable sense that maybe, just maybe, Douglas Bennett was the best of men.

Tonight was no different. Bess sat in a chair opposite Douglas, finishing some silk stockings for Queenie Warren. How she had been able to afford them, God only knew, but Bess enjoyed the feel of them slipping over her skin like water. Douglas was reading the newspaper. Every now and then, when Bess paused to rest her eyes, she caught Douglas glancing into the middle distance.

“Memories or visions?” she asked him softly. He sighed and removed his glasses.

“These days, they all blur into one horrible nightmare.” The silence resumed. Bess cast aside the stockings and took Douglas’ hand in hers, gently rubbing it with her thumb. He studied her a moment.

“You’re an odd lass,”

“So people say,”

“And a kind one.” She paused her movements and looked at him. “You should be spending time with people your own age, not barmy old men like me.”

“You’re not old. And I like spending time with you.” It wasn’t a lie. Douglas was a quiet, calm realist much like herself. Perhaps, if she had been born fifty, even thirty years ago, she would have liked him more. A thought occurred to her.

“I think you and Tom are more alike than either of you care to admit.”

Douglas huffed by way of a reply, then spoke. “He’s more like his mother than me. They both are. I don’t suppose you remember our Marie too much?”

“I remember her laugh, and that mam loved her.”

“Yeah,” he smiled and looked at Bess’ hand stroking his own. “Everyone did.” He paused once more before continuing. “What if Tom ends up like me, Bess?”

“What do you me-”

“What if he comes back from this God-awful war a shadow of himself? He’s so bright and full of life, like his mother, what if it disappears? If he comes back at all-”

Bess thought about her next words carefully. “We can’t know if they’ll come back. Tom, Lois or Albie. But we can live in the knowledge that death won’t diminish our devotion to them. You and I may not agree with war, but they’ve gone not because they blindly followed everyone else, but because they want to defend those who can’t defend themselves. And I am so proud of them. My Albie, and Lois and Tom.”

They were silent for a while as Douglas considered her words. Then, quite unexpectedly, he kissed her hand and placed his own on her cheek. The image of his son flashed across his face and Bess blushed.

“Off you go, Bess. Your family will be missing you.” The abruptness of their evening’s end took Bess by surprise, but she gathered her sewing, kissed Douglas’ cheek and left.

Dot was warming her feet by the fire when she opened the door. Cora was reading next to her.

“Dadda’s down the pub,” Dot spoke without looking up. “But you’ve stolen his drinking partner.” Cora pushed Dot’s leg with her foot, not looking up from her book.

“What do you mean, Dot?” Bess was in no mood to argue. Dot looked her sister dead in the eye.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Douglas.”

“Yes?”

“It’s not proper,”

“For God’s sake,”

“All these men on the go,”

“Me and Douglas are not ‘on the go’. And which men!?”

“There’s a letter on the bed for you.”

Bess’ heart stopped. “A letter?”

“Yes. Another letter.” Dot tried to sound aloof but her need for gossip got the better of her and she sat up in the chair. “Who’s writing to you, Bess? That man Tom punched?” She received no answer, for Bess was racing up the stairs to their bedroom. The letter was set against her pillow, and at seeing the familiar scrawl of her name, her heart leapt. Bess ripped open the envelope and found her seat in the window.

Dear Bess,

Thanks for your letter. Your writing is doing wonders for my reputation – the other boys don’t get half as many as I do, and most of them are from their mams. We’ve got a wall full of pictures that girls have sent the lads. Fancy sending one to add? Maybe you all oiled up at the factory. Lot of lonely sailors in need of entertainment, and God knows ENSA won’t be sent out here.

I wish I could be down The Palais. Not because I miss the dancing mind. We’ve not seen a woman for weeks and the thought of them all dancing together makes me weak in a way that has nothing to do with my sea legs. Tell us about it in your next letter, with all the details. Which reminds me, lay off Queenie Warren. I know she’s annoying but she means well. I don’t think you know how intimidating The Vaughn Sisters are!   

I’m writing this as we come into dock. Can’t tell you where exactly we are, for obvious reasons, but I’m looking forward to putting my feet on solid ground for a few days. Resupply means shore leave. I know you’d spend it looking in museums, walking and hunting down fabric, but for sailors it’s a different game altogether. It’ll be straight to the pub for rum and beer, before hitting the town. All hands on deck there, if you see what I mean.

I’m getting along with the other lads just fine, thank you for your confidence. I’ve got plans to spend shore leave with Vic and Norman. Vic’s Mancunian too, reminds me a bit of your Albie. Head screwed on proper and he’d have your back in a fight. You’d like him. Norman’s a little green, but Vic and I will put him right. Said we’d bring him to Longsight when we’re home, I have a feeling Dot would eat him up. He’d love it. She likes a fella she can boss around doesn’t she, your Dot? Norman will probably bring Terry along – he’s the wireless operator. Wouldn’t say boo to a goose, which is unfortunate considering he’s in the navy.

You’ll be glad to hear I’ve kept out of trouble, though Campbell and Ginger have me contemplating the many uses of hawser every now and again. Campbell’s First Officer, decent enough bloke but he’s a posh twat. Doesn’t know how to speak to us but God, he does try. Ginger’s actually called Henry. From the East End and thinks he’s a real geezer. Always bossing Norman around and lording it over the rest of us – he was an Able Seaman before the war so even though we’re all the same rank he thinks he can give us orders. No-one would care if I pushed him off the dock so I might give it a go. Burn this letter in case they catch me, it’s evidence.

Sounds like Walter has had all hands on deck too. Surprised he managed to pull a girl, didn’t think the bloke could kick his way out of a wet paper bag. I have half a mind to kill him before the Jerries do. If his arm hasn’t healed by the time I get back, you’d better tell him to watch out. Dennis Warley too. Don’t think he’s one to comment on what people look like when the rat-faced pillock hasn’t touched a woman since he came out the womb. I wouldn’t change you for the world, Bess, and anyone would be lucky to have you by their side whether that’s your dad or your husband.

Look after yourself, and give a kiss to Cora and Dot for me.

Tom.

p.s. I’ve written to dad.

Bess reread the letter, trying to hunt out any details she might have missed. She couldn’t help but be disappointed by Tom’s letters. They were never as long as hers, and he refrained from telling her anything of substance, just the goings on of the ship. It wasn’t like their evenings in the kitchen, when he’d tell her everything. Perhaps, he needed the silence and Bess supposed he couldn’t send her a blank page to signal his internal thoughts. She tucked the letter in a book, kissed the picture of Tom she kept in its pages, ignored her visions of Tom in the arms of a strange woman while on shore leave, and wandered downstairs.

“So? Who’s your fancy man?” Cora looked up at Dot’s question.

“Who says it’s a man?” Dot looked annoyed at her sister’s answer but said nothing, switching on the wireless to fill the silence.

“Warsaw now lies in ruins, while Germany and Russia continue to carve out Poland between them. At sea, the Royal Navy are focusing their efforts on scouring the South Atlantic in search of the notorious German pocket battleship Admiral Graf Spee. Rumoured to be somewhere off the coast of Argentina, the deadliest of Hitler’s Kriegsmarine has been involved in a number of skirmishes with merchant ships. There is a feeling that the Allied Forces are simply hoping that the inevitable will never come to pass-”

“Tom’s out that way, isn’t he?” Cora said softly.

Bess nodded. “Somewhere, yes.” The three sisters were silent, portraits of Albie and Etta looking down at them from the mantel as they waited for Fergal to arrive home. Across the road, Douglas switched off his own wireless, donned his cap and made his way to the pub. Bess watched him through the window as he made his way down the street, and her stomach gave a lurch. All these lonely souls left at home, severed from their loved ones with no knowing if or when they’d see them again. The horrors of war were unimaginable, but nobody talks about the living dead left behind.

Note: Happy Easter everyone! Sorry this chapter has taken a while, I’ve been so busy! I know some people reading this haven’t seen WoF (you should) – Douglas is a bus conductor. We’re with Tom A LOT for the next chapter 😊 While my paternal grandmother made munitions, my maternal grandmother (a seamstress) made planes – glad to have given the girls the same jobs as my grandmas’. The Palais, where Bess goes dancing, was where my Grandma used to go too. World on Fire is so intertwined with my family due to where it is set, it makes my heart sing! Here is my maternal grandmother looking fantastic.

Tags: @aemonds-wifey @multiple-fandoms-girl @jessssica1234 @babyblue711 @anditsmywholeheart @allthefandomtherapy @valerie977 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @chainsawsangel @greenowlfactif @thelittleswanao3 @yentroucnagol @skikikikiikhhjuuh @just-emmaaaa @beiigegalx

[noumena-ramblings]

So the new Noumena book is gonna be called Apostles of Mercy huh. I’m guessing Cora and Jude are gonna pay a visit to the Superorganism to ask them nicely not to destroy humanity?