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#Please Undertaker Frances' father
writers-hes · 7 months
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Borrowed Time
SYNOPSIS: You always knew Tommy as the cheerful boy who took care of you. He always knew you as the smart girl that he visited by the docks. The daughter of a prostitute, the son of a deadbeat father; a soldier who protected his country; a whore who protected him; a gangster who controlled Brimingham; and now, a wife. War changes people, you just didn't realize that war could change you both. (angst, abuse, canon-typical themes, death, war)
Chapter synopsis: The end of the story.
AN: Don’t look at the comments / reblogs if you don’t want spoilers!! But please discuss what you think once you’re done reading 🤍
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LONDON, 1921
Tommy sits in his chair, unmoving. Dying becomes an issue to him if it affected you this way. Ever since the war, he thought that he was living for free. It didn’t matter if he died now since he was on the verge of dying every day in France but…was this a physical manifestation of what you felt every single day for the four years that he was gone?
“I only have less than three hours left,” you mumbled, eyebrows furrowing on the teacup on the table. “I’m not-I’m not supposed to be here, Tommy…he will kill you if he catches me here.” you whispered, afraid to let the whole world know about how terrible Simon truly was. 
“Hey, you’re alright,” his voice soothes you; the raspiness sending shivers down your spine. He was sitting beside you now, a hand on your bouncing knee. “I made sure you’re alright,”
“Tommy, I know that you hate me,” you sobbed, shaking your head.  “I’m sorry for what-what I did but I…we had these plans together of—of living in a future where it’s just us and—”
“It’s alright,” he says. Seeing you risk everything just to warn him was already enough proof that you were sorry. “I’m sorry for all of the things that I said that night,”
“You’ve-you’ve got to believe me when I tell you that I…I sent you letters every week,” you pleaded. “I know that you might think that I forgot about you, but I never forgot about you, Tom. I’m sorry for believing that you’d think I was replaceable…that I didn’t matter to you,” you whispered the last part, hands on your lap forming into fists. 
Would now be a wrong time to tell you that he loves you? 
“How do you…” he coughs, trying to veer away from the road where you were going. He couldn’t do this now, not when everything’s slowly set in motion. “How did you get the information?”
You fished for the paper in your clutch, showing it to him. 
“I received this during a charity dinner in London,” you said. “I tried everything to put Simon away from you…but I couldn’t. I failed and now…now he’s out to kill you,” 
“He’s not going to kill me,” he replied. “It was Alfie’s men who put that there,”
“But he will!” you exclaimed, looking up at him. “He knows Alfie Solomons…”
“So do I,” he calmly says. “Alfie Solomons and I have an agreement,”
“He killed Johnny,” you warned him, but he was looking at you blankly and you feel despondent. “Alfie Solomons…killed Johnny. Has he not?”
“It was Darby Sabini who killed Johnny. To retaliate, I infiltrated the Eden Club. Alfie Solomons’ men were in charge of security and protection but Darby Sabini’s in charge of whatever dirty work Simon wanted to get done. Their dealings started recently with Johnny’s death,” he says. “It’s not—I,” he sighs, not finding the right words to say.
“Tommy…”
“Whatever happens to me isn’t your fault, Y/N.” He means it, you could tell but a small part of you still couldn’t quite grasp the measures that Simon will undertake to keep you close. “Y/N, love, it’s alright,”
“No- I…I can still try to persuade Simon. I’ll give that-that heir he wants so bad just please don’t…” you heaved, choking on your own tears. The way Tommy said it…like he knew that he was dying soon made you feel cold. You've come so far, would you really let Simon kill Tommy that easily? Tommy's hand on your knee tightens momentarily but he lets it go.
“You will do nothing of that sort,” his throat constricts. “You won’t have to do things you don’t want to anymore. I’m—I’m here now. I want you to be happy and I’ll do everything to make sure that you are but if an heir with him is something that you—“
“I don’t want to carry his child,” you shook your head. “Tommy, can’t you see? I just want you to live and be—be happy. We both changed since you left. The war took so, so much from you, Tom. We’ve both said things we cannot take back but God, Tommy. I want us to be happy and I want you to rest,” 
“We can rest together…be happy together,” he proposes. “Our future isn’t that far away if—“
“How?” you asked, voice small and eyes full of tears. “How?”
“No more running away. I have a plan,” he tells you, but he didn’t want to divulge the details. His blue eyes stare directly into you. His face was blank, but his body was leaning towards you, gentle hand still on your knee. “Hey,” he says, putting his hands on top of yours. You started to pick on your nail beds again. He interlocks his fingers with yours and you smile slightly. Just like when you were kids. 
“Sorry,”
“Y/N,” he stops himself. Why did you have to apologize for everything?. “I…I wrote to you,”
“Tommy—“
“I did. I waited for your letter everyday. I-I would be the first one to be there when letters were being sent but I sent them to Watery Lane,” he says. “I can’t go on with this without you knowing that I waited for you. I don’t want you to think that I’ve abandoned you because I don’t. I could never.”
He didn’t know where his courage was coming from. Maybe it was because he could feel the end coming soon. He was so scared to die without letting you know about what he truly felt for you, no matter how selfish that sounded. He wouldn’t die until he tells you about how much he loved you, about how deep this love ran through him.
“I know…Arthur told me,” you nodded. You blink away the tears that threatened to fall. “It’s me who didn’t wait for you and I-I regret it every day, you know? Not waiting…because I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t be here if I did and—I’ve always believed in your promises, Tommy. I knew that you were going to keep them but I—“
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothes you, he’d be asking Arthur about that sometime. “I’m not angry. I’m alright, you’re alright, we’re alright,” You didn’t believe him though and neither did he. 
“Tommy?” you asked. “Do you know who tried to stop the letters?”
“I do,” he replied.
“You don’t want to tell me?”
 He hums.
“Can you hold me? Instead of telling me?”
Borrowed time, you were on borrowed time and all you wanted was Tommy’s arms around you. Love is a funny thing. The world was ending and all you could ever think of is how Tommy’s hands were made for destruction, but they were also made to hold yours. 
-
The house was dark when you came back. For a house filled with servants, the house was quiet  An eerie feeling washes over you and you walked on, looking for anyone. Instead, the fireplace was open, flames roaring while your husband sat. He was looking intently into the fire, smoking his pipe. 
“Where did you go?”
“Out and about,” you said, the lie rolling perfectly from your tongue. 
“I see,” he nods. “Did you know that Ada Shelby was abducted today?”
You stopped, ice creeping up your spine.
“Tommy Shelby captured the Eden Club owned by Sabini and then, Sabini abducted Ada Shelby.” he says it like it was nothing. “I wonder why Tommy Shelby captured the Eden Club. Do you happen to know why?”
“No, Simon,” you shakily replied. “Why…?”
“Because Darby Sabini killed Big Johnny. Do you know why?” he asked. “You don’t because you’re a fucking idiot, but I’ll lay it down for you. Nice and simple so you can understand. I ordered the death of Big Johnny to punish you for hiding who Tommy Shelby was. I ordered Ada’s abduction because you went to see Tommy Shelby today. I ordered for the death of all the Shelbys—even the children so you would never have to worry about them. I tried to be reasonable, but you wouldn’t listen. Maybe you’d listen to me once all of those Birmingham rats are dead, hm? You’ll have to carry the weight of their deaths in your shoulder because you wouldn’t listen. It’s your fault they’re dying. It’s your fault that Johnny died. I liked him and you killed him,”
“I gave you everything. I love you with all of me and all that I have but you…you still love someone else. What do I have to do for you to love me like you love him?” he asked. He wasn’t looking at you, he was just unmoving…smoking his pipe like he was telling you about today’s weather. You were shaking, afraid for them and for your life. 
“Stop crying,” he orders you, but you couldn’t stop. How could you? He just revealed all of his plans—all the things that he wanted to do to them. “Go to our room and stop fucking crying!”
-
“Well, you look like shit,” Polly says, seeing Tommy on the hospital bed. “What did you do this time?”
“Sabini’s men took me and beat me up,”
“They wouldn’t beat you up without anything. They wouldn’t abduct Ada without reason. I heard that someonedecided to drop by. What did you talk about?”
“Nothing that I don’t already know,” he shrugs. “Can you pass me a cigarette?”
“You want me to help you but you’re not fucking telling me anything,” Polly says, tossing the pack to Tommy’s chest. “What is it, Tommy?”
“Poll—“
“Tom,” she asserts sternly. “You tell me now or I will get it out of her,”
“Fuck,” he groans, head falling back. “Simon killed Johnny and ordered Sabini to kill all of us. They know that I was staying at Ada’s and saw her enter Ada’s house and got us to where we are now,”
“Fuck…but we’re talking about our lives here, Tom.” Polly stresses. “Do you think that you get to have a say on whether or not we’re dying just because of a promise you made when you were young and naive?”
“I think it’s better if you all leave me to deal with this whole…thing,” Tommy says. “You’re right. Your life is on the line and I’m not really accomplishing anything if you all fucking die because of me. It’s not Y/N’s fault. It’s…that fucking husband of hers! If you really want to know, Polly…since you did give her away, yeah? Simon’s out to get all of us, even Y/N.”
Polly feels her throat tighten. This…this is what she gave you away for. Her nephew on the brink of dying, Ada with multiple fucking bruises, the threat of death, and then, the receiver of all anger…you. 
“That girl is like my daughter,” Polly says. “I will help you, Tom but you have to promise me that—that you will be honest with me. Don’t keep us in the fucking dark. It’s not your own problem anymore. It’s ours,”
“Alright,”
“I know you have a plan. What is it?” Polly asked, inhaling. “Honesty, Tom,”
“I…I made a deal with Alfie Solomons. We are alliances. He works with Simon for Y/N’s security and I allowed a few of his bookies to be in the racetracks in exchange of ensuring…well, Y/N’s safety,” It was half the truth. The other details, Tommy had to omit to ensure the execution—
“Stop fucking hiding,” Poll warns. “Tommy, you have to tell me,”
“Fuck—“ he coughs. “Everything is set in motion, Poll…there’s nothing else,” Polly looks at Tommy, there was no way for him to let up anything. Tommy was just staring at her, uninterested. He held her gaze, but she knew that there was nothing else. Tommy made up his mind about something; she just wished that it would turn out alright. 
-
“I’d like to stroll around the garden today,” you told one of the servants. Life at home had been back to the way things were. Simon was back to the old Simon that you knew but somehow, you felt like your every move was watched. 
“I’m sorry, miss but Mr. Coventry told us that you can only go to the garden with him,” she replied. “We can call on Mr. Coventry to ask…”
“What-what do you mean?” you asked. “I thought I was allowed to go…”
“Mr. Coventry told us that you can only go out of the house with him and that, if he isn’t around, you’re only allowed to be inside the house,” she repeated. You swallowed the constriction in your throat, unable to form any sentence. “We were also instructed to be with you at every single moment, miss,” 
“What?” you asked, frowning. “I don’t need to be tended to every minute of the day,”
“But miss—“
“You may leave. I’ll go to the garden alone and you can just tell Simon that I insisted on it,” you told her, walking away but she grabs your arm. “I didn’t tell you that you can touch me,” you spit. You’ll feel bad about it later but for now, you need to go out. The house was suffocating, and you felt like you were being watched. 
“Miss—“
“Leave me alone,” you scowled. “I want to go to the garden,”
“Oh, darling but you can’t,” Simon says, mocking you. “I told the servants to follow my orders. With the stunts that you’ve been pulling lately, I think it’s just fine to have you close and protected, hm?” he asked, walking over to you.
“Simon, this isn’t right,” you begged. “I’ve been cooped in the house for too long. I need-I want to go out,”
“I wish you could, but I have to go attend a meeting with Alfie Solomons. Did you know that I had your old driver killed? It’s all because of you,” he chuckles. He dismisses the servants with a wave of his hand. “You have to understand that I…I’m doing it for our family. You can hate me,” he states, walking a step closer to you. “Or push me away…” he adds, a tendril of your hair swirling in his fingertips. “You can even try to kill me,” he chuckles, his breath on your ear. “But you’re still mine. You’re my wife. You’re my fucking wife!”
You shuddered, pushing him away. 
“You’re taking everything away from me, Simon,”
“I’m just taking back what I gave you,” 
“My…my freedom. You took away my freedom,” you cried. “You took Johnny away from me! You took the Shelby’s away from me,”
A slap echoes in the halls. 
“Don’t you dare fucking say that I took the Shelbys away from you. They were taking you away from me!” he roared, chest heaving. “What—you didn’t think I would feel magically alright when you visited Tommy Shelby the other day? You didn’t think I wouldn’t know about that fucking locket that you lied to me about? We were having a wedding and you still had Tommy Shelby on you! You think I’d be happy about that? I love you and I…I gave you everything! But I still have to try to read your mind. Tommy doesn’t. You…you’d rather live in the sewers with that fucking criminal than be here with me,”
He caresses the stinging on your cheek, wiping your tears away.
“What does he have that I don’t?”
-
You were locked inside your bedroom, your heart aching. He loves you…but he hurts you. He’s cruel and controlling and full of wrath but he’s dependent and loving and kind. You hated to admit it, but you understood his fears, his anger, and him. 
What if you stole one of the cars right now? You could drive down to Birmingham and stay there or…or you could leave, find a place to stay in Ireland and never be heard of again. Will Simon shoot down the car? Will he shoot you, too? Or will he forbid you to even set your foot in England ever again? 
Simon enters your room, disregarding you completely before sitting on the bed with you. 
“I’m sorry,” he says, his hand covering yours. “I didn’t mean to…to do that,”
Right. 
“Simon…”
“I’m sorry, please,” he says, coming closer to you but you only feel cold and repulsed. “Please, darling… I don’t want to do these things to you. Do you think it doesn’t hurt me when I have to take things away from you? I just can’t…not until I’m sure that I can trust you.”
You closed your eyes, tears falling on the hands that connected you to your husband. 
“I’m so tired, Simon,” you whispered. “You…you taunt me and-and you turn my freedom into your weapon. I understand that you’re angry but to do that…to do the things that your father did to your mother…when you told me before that you hated him for it…what does that make you?” you asked. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree…was that supposed to be your excuse every time he does something horrible?
“I—I…”
“I married you not because I know that you can give all these things to me. I married you because you told me you loved me. You told me that I was important to you…but is this what love is? Is love supposed to be painful? Is love supposed to bruise? Is this what love is supposed to be like?” you asked. You removed your hand from his, standing up and walking away. If this is what love bruises you like peaches, you wanted no part of it. 
Simon has given you the wings to fly but he likes to cut them whenever you fly too close to the sun. 
When you lay in bed that night, Simon’s arm draped on your figure, you only felt cold. You laid on the softest bed in the world, unmoving…unblinking. 
Maybe you'll be free another time.
-
“I’m sorry for what I did,” he says, setting his utensils down on the dining table. “You have…you have every reason to be mad at me,” 
“Simon,” you sighed. You’ve been playing with your food for a while. “You…you can’t just say sorry every time you decide to…hurt me. I want to be able to love you without fearing for my life,”
“It’s just…Tommy Shelby.”
“I don’t have him anymore,” you told him. “Tommy and I…are nothing but childhood friends. His father used to frequent the brothel when my mother was still alive. He—and I grew up together and he was all I had until he left. Now, I only have you,” you said. “My relationship with the Shelbys is nothing but familial. They took care of me, they took me under their wing,” 
“But he loves you,” he replied. “He loves you, Y/N and he wants to take you away from me! Do you not appreciate my efforts to ensure that our marriage is preserved?”
“What preservation?” you asked, standing up. “What—what preservation? You killed Johnny and you expect me to be alright with it. You took away my friends, my freedom…and you—you expect me to be the same!” You chuckled. “Preservation? You’re the only one killing this marriage, Simon. I love you but no matter how much I show it…it will never be enough,” 
“Then, kill Tommy Shelby!” his voice booms. “You want me to trust you? You want me to see your love? Kill him! We have more than enough money to have one of Alfie’s men or Sabini’s men to kill him. Kill him!”
Your face pinches in anger, eyes turning into slits. 
“What? You can’t be serious,” you scoffed. Simon takes your arm harshly and you flinched. He grips it in his hand, forcing you to stay immobile.
“Kill him,” he spits. “Your love means nothing to me if you won’t,”
“And you think I’ll continue to love you when you’re forcing me to kill my friend?” you asked, shaking your head. “Let me go!”
“No!” his voice booms. He drags you to his office, your legs stumbling behind him. “You have to decide if you’ll kill for me. I’ll kill for you, don’t you know that?” he asked, throwing you on the couch in his study. “I’ll kill for you…”
You stand up to leave but he pushes you down. 
“I don’t care if you don’t love me right now. You will love me again. You’ve been obedient for Tommy’s sake…that’s the greatest love of all and I—I don’t have it,” he whispers. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted and I don’t have it.”  He shakes his head, watching your husband turn into the cruel man that you learned to hate. He walks towards the door and exits. You run after him but he forces the door closed from the other side. 
“Make sure that Mrs. Coventry is taken care of,” he tells his security. “Only maids are allowed to be inside but don’t let anyone near the door until I leave. She will remain in this room until I arrive in the evening.”
You were rattling the door but to no avail. Your tears were freely flowing, trying to get the door open by slamming your body on it. You could hear the quiet murmur outside but they were all ignoring you.
“Let me out, Simon!” you sobbed. “Let me out! Let me out…please!” you cried, slamming your body harder but it couldn’t fucking open. Your fall on the floor, consoling yourself from the coldness and the darkness of Simon’s office. If your mother saw you today, would she be proud of you?
-
Time passes in Tommy’s eyes, his eyes blank. Alfie Solomons told him to wait but he couldn’t. Their men surrounded the mansion, pretending to be your security but they’ve been planning the seeds, telling Tommy that you weren’t allowed to be out of the house with your husband anymore. He heard some of the men joke that you were a ghost that sat on the window because they have never even seen you. 
“Tommy,” Alfie called, a young man trailing after him. “I’ve got someone useful for you. One of my men in Coventry’s fucking mansion. Go on, David. Tell Mr. Shelby here about the fucking horrors in that big, big mansion,”
David nods, his resolve dissolving upon seeing Tommy’s icy stare directed at him. 
“My name is David and I’m assigned to the security of the house. Mrs. Coventry is currently locked in Mr. Coventry’s house—“
“Ah, fuck, mate. Just say Y/N and Simon. These fucking names really…” Alfie interjected. He nods. 
“Um—Simon laid a hand on Y/N yesterday,” his eyes looking away from Tommy. “She’s not allowed to-to go out of Simon’s study…after Y/N refused to have Mr. Shelby killed”
“What about the driver that brought her to me?”
“He’s dead. Darby Sabini’s men killed him,” Alfie shrugged. He dismisses David with a wave of his hand.  “Be honest with me, Tommy. Who is she? Because it’s quite absurd, innit? Here is a man with a wife and then another man who vows to what? Take her back? If I was Simon Coventry…I would be mad too, is what I’m saying. Did you know the tenth commandment, mate? Thou shall not covet thy neighbor’s wife…did you know that?”
“No one,” was Tommy’s laconic reply, standing up to walk away. Alfie chuckles.
“No one!” he exclaimed, slamming his hand on the table. “This no one cost me a man. A poor lad who decided to follow your Y/N’s orders for what? A few pounds and a fucking—a fucking night with you. Is that it, Tom? No one. Fucking no one and I’m letting my men run around after your fucking whims!”
“A fucking night? My fucking whims?” Tommy spits. 
“What? Is it not true?” he asked, “You’re fucking…obsessed, mate. That’s what you are! She is married. The more you act the more she gets…fucking hurt. You think that’s alright?”
“He’s using her!” Tommy shouts over. “He’s hurting her no matter what I do or not do. Did you fucking know that? You’re not doing anything!” he asked, eyes teary. 
“Then, don’t fucking do anything! It wouldn’t matter anyway; you said it yourself. As damned as I am, Tommy, don’t fucking do anything,” 
Tommy shoves Alfie, shaking his head. No fucking difference? 
“What the fuck? Tommy!” Alfie shouts. “What’s the matter? You’re fucking angry, eh?”
“Yes, I’m fucking angry!” he says, pointing a gun to Alfie. 
“Oh, you’re going to kill me?” he taunts. “You’re going to fucking kill me when your anger is un-fucking-justified! So, what, Simon has your woman, eh? He has her? You’re angry at me but fucking hell, Tommy! How many men do I have to sacrifice for this little fucking protection project you got going on? How many fathers will you fucking kill? You think you’re better than Simon Coventry? You’re going straight to fucking hell, Tommy! Straight to fucking hell! Just like me and Simon! You come to me to get closer to Simon Coventry and…you stand there, talking about not doing anything when it’s my men that have to go through the other end of the barrel. Kill me and pull that trigger for some fucking honorable reason. Like an honorable man and not like—not like some fucking civilian that does not understand the wicked way of our world, mate,” he spits. Tommy stares at him blankly. 
“Look, mate—Tommy. I will fucking help you but you have to be fucking patient. The races at Sabini’s tracks are happening soon. You just have to be patient.”
Tommy shoves Alfie away from him. He wouldn’t understand—he’d never understand. Time was ticking and if he didn’t move now, he’ll get killed.
-
“I think it would be much better to wear the green,” Simon says, looking at the dress that you have on for the races. “Wear it,”
“Oh, but it would be such a waste,” you told him, twirling to show him the way the fabric draped beautifully on you. “Don’t you think so? Besides, it’s going to be so hot at the races today. I don’t want to sweat,”
Simon pinches his nose.
“I suppose so,” he agrees, striding over you and laying his hand on your waist. “You do look ravishing, darling. I already can’t wait to take you home, hm?”
“We have to make sure our horse wins first,” you tell him, laying your head on his chest while you let his eyes rake over your body. “Simon, can-can you kiss me?” 
“Why so sudden?” he asked, turning you around. “Is everything alright, darling?”
“Of course,” you smiled at him, studying his face. This was the Simon tha you loved; the kind Simon that you rarely see these days. “I just want you to kiss me, my love. Can’t you kiss your darling wife?” He smiles a small smile, taking your chin with his gentle fingers and kissing you. 
“I love you, Y/N,”
“I love you too, Simon.” you told him, pecking his lips once more before a knock breaks you away. 
“Looks like we’re ready to go,” he tells you. 
“Of course, you can go ahead. Let me just fix my hair and we can go,” you replied, turning away from him. He was so warm…so, so, so, warm. Simon leaves you with a kiss on your forehead. You’ve been good lately, no Tommy Shelby…no requests…no anything. You could tell that he loves it; that you were obedient but if you didn’t want a repeat of what happened, you had to play your cards right. You fix your hair one last time and double-check the contents of your purse. It felt heavy, it felt right. 
You had to get this right; you were living on borrowed time after all. 
Your car stops at one of Darby Sabini’s tracks in London. Simon requested privacy and privacy he’ll get. No one knows that the Coventry’s are present in the race except for Alfie, Sabini, and the men who ushered you to the private room. No word was supposed to be out that you were both here. Simon forbade it. You let Simon walk in front of you with his hand clasped around yours. The room you were in had whisky, rum, and other items that you knew were not for the general public. When you arrived, a man with a hat was waiting.
“Darling, I’d like for you to meet Alfie Solomons,” Simon tells you, removing his hand from yours to shake Alfie Solomons’ hand. “He’s been the one supplying us with security. Sabini will get here in a while, but I think that it’s better for you to meet Mr. Solomons first.” 
“Good…day, Mrs. Coventry,” Alfie greets, a polite bow sent to your way. 
“Good day, Mr. Solomons. I’ve heard so much about you from my husband,” you offered, smiling at him. 
“Good things, I hope?” he asked. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. Mr. Coventry, Darby Sabini’s been looking for you. Something about your dealings. I don’t really keep track, you know?”
“Of course,” Simon nods. He kisses your head. “Will it be alright to leave you with Mr. Solomons for the meantime, my love?”
“Sure, darling,” you said, your hand tightening on the beaded purse in your hand. He smiles at you before leaving, looking for Darby Sabini. You watched the door close and you were about to sit down when Alfie Solomons spoke.
“You know, love,” Alfie starts, walking to you closer. He stops right beside your ear. “If you wanted to hide that gun better, you’d have to loosen your grip on your purse. I can see the outline of the barrel from where I was standing.” he says before leaving you in the room. “Darby Sabini’s not here but he is somewhere by the racetracks,” he hints.
“What do you want?” you asked, following him. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Let’s just say I’m a friend of Tommy Shelby,” he nods to himself. Your blood runs cold, and your face turns pale. “Go,” he urges. “Do whatever you want,”
You exited the special room with haste. Blood was ringing in your ears and you couldn’t breathe properly. You were stumbling with adrenaline, with hope, with…every single emotion that you never thought you could feel and comprehend. Nobody else was in the corridors leading to the room marked with an unassuming planter box beside it. You cautiously entered and Simon turned around immediately. His face tenses with alarm when he sees you. 
“Darling, what are you doing here? You should go back with Mr. Solomons before Darby Sabini sees you. I told our men to all leave so he and I could have some privacy,” he warns, eyes darting everywhere.
“He’s not…he’s not here,” you tell him, unloading the gun from your purse with shaky hands. 
“What—what is this about?” Simon asks, looking pointedly at the gun that Tommy gave you long ago. You weren’t even sure if it was still working. You point the gun at him, straight to his face. “You’re going to kill me? Is that it?” he asked, anger taking over his features. “You’re going to kill me when I’ve given you everything! I gave you your fucking life, Y/N. Put that gun down and-and we’ll pretend like this never happened,”
“No! You—you took everything away from me, Simon. You took my family away. You took Johnny away from me and you still—you still expect me to love you? You took me away and weaponized my freedom. You think—you think that I can still love you? I wake up every day counting to ten if you’d hit me. If you’d shove me down and slap me and kick me. This isn’t love, Simon! This is prison,” you enraged, your gun shaking. “You told me that…you told me that the only way out is if I kill you,” you heaved. 
“Y/N…you’re being callous right now, love. You’re not you…you’re angry,” he tries, walking towards you but you just shook your head. “You’re being stupid!”
“Stop! Simon, stop!” you shouted, the volume of your voice raisins. “I can never be smart for you. I’ll always be a property in your eyes and I—and I’ll never ever be your equal,” you sobbed. “This is something that I need to do. You broke me,” you cried, tears falling in your eyes. “You broke me, and you still expect me to love you,”
“I love you, Y/N,” he sobs. “I love you—“
The coiled spring that wrung your heart explodes.
A manicured hand pulls the trigger, and your husband falls to the ground along with the gun that you held. Your hands shake and you fall on the floor, wailing. Now that the job was done, who else would you have? You crawled towards him, your dress was getting dirty, but you didn’t care. Who thought you’d finally use the gun that Tommy bought you for protection? 
You lay your head down on his chest, there was no heartbeat. He was dead, Simon was dead. The trembling of your hands, hold what you could. The blood trails down your arm and you just lay there. He was dead. Simon was dead, you killed him. You killed Simon. You killed the man who loves you. 
“There’s no use crying over spilled milk,” a gruff voice that belonged to Alfie Solomons says behind you. “You’re more capable than what Tommy painted you out to be,”
“Where is he?” you asked. It was odd, you thought you’d be crying by now. “Where’s Tommy?”
“Sabini’s men took him,” Alfie shrugged. “Simon ordered Sabini to kill Tommy today. You did well,”
“I killed my husband,” you told him. The waver in your voice couldn’t be pinpointed to one single emotion. “I just…I just killed my husband,”
“I see that,” he replied. “This wasn’t Tommy’s plan really. He was supposed to kill Simon and I was supposed to guard you while this all happens but…I guess Simon was quite intelligent too,” he says, pushing Simon’s limp arm with his cane. “You’re a good shot,”
“Mr. Solomons, I’ll buy your silence for five thousand pounds. I’ll let your men take care of this scene for ten thousand more. Make sure that none of this is blamed on me or on Tommy,” you negotiated, pulling yourself away from your husband. You were still trembling and Alfie could see how hard you tried to supress yourself from revealing too much.
“You just landed yourself millions. I don’t think a few thousand more will be burdensome on your pockets?” he asked, looming over you. He extends his hand for you to take, and you do, hauling yourself to meet him at eye level. You swallowed. 
“Blame this all on Darby Sabini,” you told him. You stand up straighter, looking him in the eye. “And I’ll make sure that the cash is ready for you after the funeral. I’m sure you’d want very powerful friends on the inside?”
Alfie nods, a smirk forming on his face. Looks like you never needed Tommy in the first place. 
The police found you wailing on the scene of the crime, the weapon nowhere to be found. Alfie Solomons testified that you were with him the whole time when one of his men ran to tell you that Sabini’s men shot him in the head. He had someone testify on it too.The funeral was private and quick, you decided to bury him with his parents in the mausoleum with ‘COVENTRY’ written in gold. Simon bequeathed every property to your name in his will. You were free; you were finally, finally, free. 
-
BIRMINGHAM, 1922
After selling your mansion in London, you moved back to Birmingham. You bought a house that was big enough to have guests over but still not as massive as your mansion in London. You haven’t talked to Shelby’s in a year, even though they did lend a hand with what happened to Simon. Apparently, it was Polly who arranged a meeting between some Lizzie Stark and Sabini. Tommy and Alfie connived to kill Simon, but Sabini’s men took Tommy away to some far away place before anything could happen. You couldn’t face them yet, not with the freshness of your wound…not with the guilt that clawed its way deep into you. 
You’ve been with Simon for such a long time that you almost forgot what it was like to be yourself. 
You looked at the garden outside your window, feeling nostalgic because this was the same garden where Tommy used to take you all those years ago. You were only kids back then…how time flies. Does he know thatnyou moved back to Birmingham? Is he giving you space?
You watched the rain fall from the French windows, appreciating the breeze and the calm that the pitter patter gave you. You looked on, a single figure walking towards your house and you smiled. For the first time since your life started, you were finally free. 
-
A/N: It’s done! It’s finally done…actually, it isn’t. I will be uploading an epilogue sometime soon and then, I will be doing a Q&A afterwards which by the way, I’m already accepting question submissions! I will be posting all of the questions in one post and I hope you guys send in some questions about the story. I want to thank every one of you for loving the story of Y/N and Tommy and it has been such a ride. I can’t write anything about a final author’s not yet…I still don’t know how to feel to finally be able to finish this story…but maybe soon? Thank you so much for waiting and thank you so much for the overwhelming love and support! As always, don’t forget to like, reblog, comment, or maybe all… to show your appreciation! Thank you so much.
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abybweisse · 8 months
Note
To be honest, I think the Undertaker is Claudia Phantomhive's dad instead of Cedric K. Ros- because he looks like him with his hair up and from behind. Proof is when Undertaker disguises himself as the headmaster at the Weston College. Another proof is when they were showing the back of the heads of Phantomhives, the man above Claudia, being her father, has the same style as the Undertaker. That's my thoughts. What are yours?
No, he doesn't look like her father.
"Proof" against it is the same set of images you mention.
Ch78 shows Undertaker from the side and from behind, with his hair up... while ch116 shows Claudia/Cloudia's father from behind:
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Her father kept his hair short, and you cannot see any baby hairs on the nape of his neck. Also, he's got sideburns. I do not think he's Undertaker with short hair and facial hair. Wearing similar clothes means nothing, as men's fashion hadn't changed much during the time. You have to go back yet another generation to see much difference in men's fashions.
Besides, Yana-san tweeted, years ago, that Edward and Francis/Francis look like Cedric... and they most-definitely look like Undertaker.
Please go back and read the posts comparing Undertaker to Francis/Frances and Edward, as well as numerous other posts about hereditary inheritance within the Phantomhive family, including the Midford children. Because that's something Yana-san has hinted at in favor of Undertaker being Cedric. She says that the sons tend to take after the mothers, while the daughters tend to take after the fathers. Edward looks like his mom, who in turn looks like Cedric. Vincent looks like his mother, who in turn should take after her own father... and she shouldn't look like Undertaker, since neither does Vincent.
To be honest, I never want to see this "Undertaker is Claudia's father" idea ever again. I've posted against it so many times....
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vickyvicarious · 11 months
Text
I remembered also the necessity imposed upon me of either journeying to England, or entering into a long correspondence with those philosophers of that country, whose knowledge and discoveries were of indispensable use to me in my present undertaking. The latter method of obtaining the desired intelligence was dilatory and unsatisfactory: besides, any variation was agreeable to me, and I was delighted with the idea of spending a year or two in change of scene and variety of occupation, in absence from my family; during which period some event might happen which would restore me to them in peace and happiness: my promise might be fulfilled, and the monster have departed; or some accident might occur to destroy him, and put an end to my slavery for ever.
These feelings dictated my answer to my father. I expressed a wish to visit England; but, concealing the true reasons of this request, I clothed my desires under the guise of wishing to travel and see the world before I sat down for life within the walls of my native town.
I urged my entreaty with earnestness, and my father was easily induced to comply; for a more indulgent and less dictatorial parent did not exist upon earth. Our plan was soon arranged. I should travel to Strasburgh, where Clerval would join me. Some short time would be spent in the towns of Holland, and our principal stay would be in England. We should return by France; and it was agreed that the tour should occupy the space of two years.
My father pleased himself with the reflection, that my union with Elizabeth should take place immediately on my return to Geneva. "These two years," said he, "will pass swiftly, and it will be the last delay that will oppose itself to your happiness. And, indeed, I earnestly desire that period to arrive, when we shall all be united, and neither hopes or fears arise to disturb our domestic calm."
"I am content," I replied, "with your arrangement. By that time we shall both have become wiser, and I hope happier, than we at present are." I sighed; but my father kindly forbore to question me further concerning the cause of my dejection. He hoped that new scenes, and the amusement of travelling, would restore my tranquillity.
1818
I remembered also the necessity imposed upon me of either journeying to England, or entering into a long correspondence with those philosophers of that country, whose knowledge and discoveries were of indispensable use to me in my present undertaking. The latter method of obtaining the desired intelligence was dilatory and unsatisfactory: besides, I had an insurmountable aversion to the idea of engaging myself in my loathsome task in my father's house, while in the habits of familiar intercourse with those I loved. I knew that a thousand fearful accidents might occur, the slightest of which would disclose a tale to thrill all connected with me with horror. I was aware also that I should often lose all self-command, all capacity of hiding the harrowing sensations that would possess me during the progress of my unearthly occupation. I must absent myself from all I loved while thus employed. Once commenced, it would quickly be achieved, and I might be restored to my family in peace and happiness. My promise fulfilled, the monster would depart forever. Or (so my fond fancy imaged) some accident might meanwhile occur to destroy him, and put an end to my slavery for ever.
These feelings dictated my answer to my father. I expressed a wish to visit England; but, concealing the true reasons of this request, I clothed my desires under a guise which excited no suspicion, while I urged my entreaty with an earnestness that easily induced my father to comply. After so long a period of an absorbing melancholy, that resembled madness in its intensity and effects, he was glad to find that I was capable of taking pleasure in the idea of such a journey, and he hoped that change of scene and varied amusement would, before my return, have restored me entirely to myself.
The duration of my absence was left to my own choice; a few months, or at most a year, was the period contemplated. One paternal kind precaution he had taken to ensure my having a companion. Without previously communicating with me, he had, in concert with Elizabeth, arranged that Clerval should join me at Strasburgh. This interfered with the solitude I coveted for the prosecution of my task; yet at the commencement of my journey the presence of my friend could be in no way an impediment, and truly I rejoiced that thus I should be saved many hours of lonely, maddening reflection. Nay, Henry might stand between me and the intrusion of my foe. If I were alone, would he not at times force his abhorred presence on me, to remind me of my task, or to contemplate its progress?
To England, therefore, I was bound, and it was understood that my union with Elizabeth should take place immediately on my return. My father's age rendered him extremely averse to delay. For myself, there was one reward I promised myself from my detested toils—one consolation for my unparalleled sufferings; it was the prospect of the day when, enfranchised from my miserable slavery, I might claim Elizabeth, and forget the past in my union with her.
1831
This is a bit of a longer comparison, but I think there's a couple of interesting differences here. In the first paragraph alone, there are a couple of intriguing differences, which then inform the rest of each passage.
In 1818, Victor wants to get away from his family. For a couple of years. And he isn't being very specific at all about what he wants to do once alone, outside from England being a useful place to study up to create a second Creature. He says maybe he will fulfill his promise, or maybe something will just kill the Creature off without him having to do anything, with about the same amount of detail. It definitely seems like a major part of him wanting to leave is to be away from these people. He loves them, of course, but his guilt still holds him separate. And in addition, some of the older familial expectations (and his own feelings of failing at them) seem to be cropping up with the questions about him marrying Elizabeth. Victor is still being quite avoidant of his responsibilities, and guilty about being so, both in regards to his 'son' and his father.
Contrast to 1831, where Victor wants to leave because he can't imagine making another Creature near his family. Not only is this a much more grisly reminder of the reality of what goes into making a living being, but completely changes the tone of his desire to leave. He doesn't want his family to see him like that - and it's a much more foregone conclusion in this Victor's mind that he will get caught up in that same frame of mind and commit those same actions as before. 1831 Victor is much more actively planning to honor his promise, and his hope that something will happen to prevent its being necessary is acknowledged as a mere fancy this time around.
Bearing these differences in mind, the tone of the rest of both quotes follow predictable lines. In 1818, Victor seems to be planning his trip together with his father, and isn't surprised by Clerval's inclusion. This account dwells more on the various places they will visit, and gives a much longer timeframe of one or two years absence before Victor will be expected to return. While he is framing this trip as necessary for fulfilling his promise to the Creature, Victor is still being avoidant, still trying to give himself outs. Finally, Alphonse 'pleased himself with the reflection' that Victor will be married immediately upon his return. Victor's response is pretty lukewarm, all told: "I am content with your arrangement." Not only is it other peoples' doing, with which he is just willingly going along, but he also just doesn't seem to care that much about the idea of being married to Elizabeth. He's not against it, but he doesn't seem to be looking forward to it either.
1831, on the other hand, continues with a much stronger focus on what Victor is planning to do. He didn't expect Clerval to join him, and waffles between being upset that it will make his work more difficult, and hoping that it will mean the Creature is more reluctant to approach him (both versions keep Victor worrying about his family being left behind before convincing himself that the Creature will probably follow him on his trip; having this come before that feels a little disjointed in the later version). There is a huge difference in how long he is expected to be away; he asks for only a few months to a year maximum. Obviously, he's planning to be much more on-task about his promise, trying to get it out of the way and then put it behind him forever. He also seems much more invested in the idea of peaceful domestic life with Elizabeth, musing to himself about his eagerness to marry her. He views this marriage (and, presumably, happy family life afterwards) as a reward for all he's been through.
A further difference between the two versions is that in 1818, asking for this trip is one of the first things Victor has done under his own willpower since his return home. For the most part he has otherwise been willing to follow alone with others, or seek solitude on the lake. So it makes sense that his father is excited about him asking, and is more eager to agree. In 1831, he chose to go to the mountains of his own accord and entirely alone, meaning this second trip isn't as distinctive of a sign of him beginning to recover. In that sense, his father's willingness to agree makes a little less sense, given the state Victor was in upon his return; but him and Elizabeth contriving to have Clerval join Victor becomes an even stronger expression of their concern. They seem to hope that having his best friend along will keep Victor from falling back into a similar depression.
Overall, we once again see 1818 Victor as being much more listless, and having a more complicated relationship with his family, as well as less of a romantic relationship with Elizabeth. 1831 Victor is more driven, his family life is more idyllic/must be protected, and he looks forward to marrying Elizabeth.
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hellsitesonlybookclub · 6 months
Text
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
CHAPTER VI.
Clerval then put the following letter into my hands. It was from my own Elizabeth:—
"My dearest Cousin,
"You have been ill, very ill, and even the constant letters of dear kind Henry are not sufficient to reassure me on your account. You are forbidden to write—to hold a pen; yet one word from you, dear Victor, is necessary to calm our apprehensions. For a long time I have thought that each post would bring this line, and my persuasions have restrained my uncle from undertaking a journey to Ingolstadt. I have prevented his encountering the inconveniences and perhaps dangers of so long a journey; yet how often have I regretted not being able to perform it myself! I figure to myself that the task of attending on your sick bed has devolved on some mercenary old nurse, who could never guess your wishes, nor minister to them with the care and affection of your poor cousin. Yet that is over now: Clerval writes that indeed you are getting better. I eagerly hope that you will confirm this intelligence soon in your own handwriting.
"Get well—and return to us. You will find a happy, cheerful home, and friends who love you dearly. Your father's health is vigorous, and he asks but to see you,—but to be assured that you are well; and not a care will ever cloud his benevolent countenance. How pleased you would be to remark the improvement of our Ernest! He is now sixteen, and full of activity and spirit. He is desirous to be a true Swiss, and to enter into foreign service; but we cannot part with him, at least until his elder brother return to us. My uncle is not pleased with the idea of a military career in a distant country; but Ernest never had your powers of application. He looks upon study as an odious fetter;—his time is spent in the open air, climbing the hills or rowing on the lake. I fear that he will become an idler, unless we yield the point, and permit him to enter on the profession which he has selected.
"Little alteration, except the growth of our dear children, has taken place since you left us. The blue lake, and snow-clad mountains, they never change;—and I think our placid home, and our contented hearts are regulated by the same immutable laws. My trifling occupations take up my time and amuse me, and I am rewarded for any exertions by seeing none but happy, kind faces around me. Since you left us, but one change has taken place in our little household. Do you remember on what occasion Justine Moritz entered our family? Probably you do not; I will relate her history, therefore, in a few words. Madame Moritz, her mother, was a widow with four children, of whom Justine was the third. This girl had always been the favourite of her father; but, through a strange perversity, her mother could not endure her, and, after the death of M. Moritz, treated her very ill. My aunt observed this; and, when Justine was twelve years of age, prevailed on her mother to allow her to live at our house. The republican institutions of our country have produced simpler and happier manners than those which prevail in the great monarchies that surround it. Hence there is less distinction between the several classes of its inhabitants; and the lower orders, being neither so poor nor so despised, their manners are more refined and moral. A servant in Geneva does not mean the same thing as a servant in France and England. Justine, thus received in our family, learned the duties of a servant; a condition which, in our fortunate country, does not include the idea of ignorance, and a sacrifice of the dignity of a human being.
"Justine, you may remember, was a great favourite of yours; and I recollect you once remarked, that if you were in an ill-humour, one glance from Justine could dissipate it, for the same reason that Ariosto gives concerning the beauty of Angelica—she looked so frank-hearted and happy. My aunt conceived a great attachment for her, by which she was induced to give her an education superior to that which she had at first intended. This benefit was fully repaid; Justine was the most grateful little creature in the world: I do not mean that she made any professions; I never heard one pass her lips; but you could see by her eyes that she almost adored her protectress. Although her disposition was gay, and in many respects inconsiderate, yet she paid the greatest attention to every gesture of my aunt. She thought her the model of all excellence, and endeavoured to imitate her phraseology and manners, so that even now she often reminds me of her.
"When my dearest aunt died, every one was too much occupied in their own grief to notice poor Justine, who had attended her during her illness with the most anxious affection. Poor Justine was very ill; but other trials were reserved for her.
"One by one, her brothers and sister died; and her mother, with the exception of her neglected daughter, was left childless. The conscience of the woman was troubled; she began to think that the deaths of her favourites was a judgment from heaven to chastise her partiality. She was a Roman catholic; and I believe her confessor confirmed the idea which she had conceived. Accordingly, a few months after your departure for Ingolstadt, Justine was called home by her repentant mother. Poor girl! she wept when she quitted our house; she was much altered since the death of my aunt; grief had given softness and a winning mildness to her manners, which had before been remarkable for vivacity. Nor was her residence at her mother's house of a nature to restore her gaiety. The poor woman was very vacillating in her repentance. She sometimes begged Justine to forgive her unkindness, but much oftener accused her of having caused the deaths of her brothers and sister. Perpetual fretting at length threw Madame Moritz into a decline, which at first increased her irritability, but she is now at peace for ever. She died on the first approach of cold weather, at the beginning of this last winter. Justine has returned to us; and I assure you I love her tenderly. She is very clever and gentle, and extremely pretty; as I mentioned before, her mien and her expressions continually remind me of my dear aunt.
"I must say also a few words to you, my dear cousin, of little darling William. I wish you could see him; he is very tall of his age, with sweet laughing blue eyes, dark eyelashes, and curling hair. When he smiles, two little dimples appear on each cheek, which are rosy with health. He has already had one or two little wives, but Louisa Biron is his favourite, a pretty little girl of five years of age.
"Now, dear Victor, I dare say you wish to be indulged in a little gossip concerning the good people of Geneva. The pretty Miss Mansfield has already received the congratulatory visits on her approaching marriage with a young Englishman, John Melbourne, Esq. Her ugly sister, Manon, married M. Duvillard, the rich banker, last autumn. Your favourite schoolfellow, Louis Manoir, has suffered several misfortunes since the departure of Clerval from Geneva. But he has already recovered his spirits, and is reported to be on the point of marrying a very lively pretty Frenchwoman, Madame Tavernier. She is a widow, and much older than Manoir; but she is very much admired, and a favourite with everybody.
"I have written myself into better spirits, dear cousin; but my anxiety returns upon me as I conclude. Write, dearest Victor,—one line—one word will be a blessing to us. Ten thousand thanks to Henry for his kindness, his affection, and his many letters: we are sincerely grateful. Adieu! my cousin; take care of yourself; and, I entreat you, write!
"Elizabeth Lavenza.
"Geneva, March 18th, 17—."
"Dear, dear Elizabeth!" I exclaimed, when I had read her letter, "I will write instantly, and relieve them from the anxiety they must feel." I wrote, and this exertion greatly fatigued me; but my convalescence had commenced, and proceeded regularly. In another fortnight I was able to leave my chamber.
One of my first duties on my recovery was to introduce Clerval to the several professors of the university. In doing this, I underwent a kind of rough usage, ill befitting the wounds that my mind had sustained. Ever since the fatal night, the end of my labours, and the beginning of my misfortunes, I had conceived a violent antipathy even to the name of natural philosophy. When I was otherwise quite restored to health, the sight of a chemical instrument would renew all the agony of my nervous symptoms. Henry saw this, and had removed all my apparatus from my view. He had also changed my apartment; for he perceived that I had acquired a dislike for the room which had previously been my laboratory. But these cares of Clerval were made of no avail when I visited the professors. M. Waldman inflicted torture when he praised, with kindness and warmth, the astonishing progress I had made in the sciences. He soon perceived that I disliked the subject; but not guessing the real cause, he attributed my feelings to modesty, and changed the subject from my improvement, to the science itself, with a desire, as I evidently saw, of drawing me out. What could I do? He meant to please, and he tormented me. I felt as if he had placed carefully, one by one, in my view those instruments which were to be afterwards used in putting me to a slow and cruel death. I writhed under his words, yet dared not exhibit the pain I felt. Clerval, whose eyes and feelings were always quick in discerning the sensations of others, declined the subject, alleging, in excuse, his total ignorance; and the conversation took a more general turn. I thanked my friend from my heart, but I did not speak. I saw plainly that he was surprised, but he never attempted to draw my secret from me; and although I loved him with a mixture of affection and reverence that knew no bounds, yet I could never persuade myself to confide to him that event which was so often present to my recollection, but which I feared the detail to another would only impress more deeply.
M. Krempe was not equally docile; and in my condition at that time, of almost insupportable sensitiveness, his harsh blunt encomiums gave me even more pain than the benevolent approbation of M. Waldman. "D—n the fellow!" cried he; "why, M. Clerval, I assure you he has outstript us all. Ay, stare if you please; but it is nevertheless true. A youngster who, but a few years ago, believed in Cornelius Agrippa as firmly as in the gospel, has now set himself at the head of the university; and if he is not soon pulled down, we shall all be out of countenance.—Ay, ay," continued he, observing my face expressive of suffering, "M. Frankenstein is modest; an excellent quality in a young man. Young men should be diffident of themselves, you know, M. Clerval: I was myself when young; but that wears out in a very short time."
M. Krempe had now commenced an eulogy on himself, which happily turned the conversation from a subject that was so annoying to me.
Clerval had never sympathised in my tastes for natural science; and his literary pursuits differed wholly from those which had occupied me. He came to the university with the design of making himself complete master of the oriental languages, as thus he should open a field for the plan of life he had marked out for himself. Resolved to pursue no inglorious career, he turned his eyes toward the East, as affording scope for his spirit of enterprise. The Persian, Arabic, and Sanscrit languages engaged his attention, and I was easily induced to enter on the same studies. Idleness had ever been irksome to me, and now that I wished to fly from reflection, and hated my former studies, I felt great relief in being the fellow-pupil with my friend, and found not only instruction but consolation in the works of the orientalists. I did not, like him, attempt a critical knowledge of their dialects, for I did not contemplate making any other use of them than temporary amusement. I read merely to understand their meaning, and they well repaid my labours. Their melancholy is soothing, and their joy elevating, to a degree I never experienced in studying the authors of any other country. When you read their writings, life appears to consist in a warm sun and a garden of roses,—in the smiles and frowns of a fair enemy, and the fire that consumes your own heart. How different from the manly and heroical poetry of Greece and Rome!
Summer passed away in these occupations, and my return to Geneva was fixed for the latter end of autumn; but being delayed by several accidents, winter and snow arrived, the roads were deemed impassable, and my journey was retarded until the ensuing spring. I felt this delay very bitterly; for I longed to see my native town and my beloved friends. My return had only been delayed so long, from an unwillingness to leave Clerval in a strange place, before he had become acquainted with any of its inhabitants. The winter, however, was spent cheerfully; and although the spring was uncommonly late, when it came its beauty compensated for its dilatoriness.
The month of May had already commenced, and I expected the letter daily which was to fix the date of my departure, when Henry proposed a pedestrian tour in the environs of Ingolstadt, that I might bid a personal farewell to the country I had so long inhabited. I acceded with pleasure to this proposition: I was fond of exercise, and Clerval had always been my favourite companion in the rambles of this nature that I had taken among the scenes of my native country.
We passed a fortnight in these perambulations: my health and spirits had long been restored, and they gained additional strength from the salubrious air I breathed, the natural incidents of our progress, and the conversation of my friend. Study had before secluded me from the intercourse of my fellow-creatures, and rendered me unsocial; but Clerval called forth the better feelings of my heart; he again taught me to love the aspect of nature, and the cheerful faces of children. Excellent friend! how sincerely did you love me, and endeavour to elevate my mind until it was on a level with your own! A selfish pursuit had cramped and narrowed me, until your gentleness and affection warmed and opened my senses; I became the same happy creature who, a few years ago, loved and beloved by all, had no sorrow or care. When happy, inanimate nature had the power of bestowing on me the most delightful sensations. A serene sky and verdant fields filled me with ecstasy. The present season was indeed divine; the flowers of spring bloomed in the hedges, while those of summer were already in bud. I was undisturbed by thoughts which during the preceding year had pressed upon me, notwithstanding my endeavours to throw them off, with an invincible burden.
Henry rejoiced in my gaiety, and sincerely sympathised in my feelings: he exerted himself to amuse me, while he expressed the sensations that filled his soul. The resources of his mind on this occasion were truly astonishing: his conversation was full of imagination; and very often, in imitation of the Persian and Arabic writers, he invented tales of wonderful fancy and passion. At other times he repeated my favourite poems, or drew me out into arguments, which he supported with great ingenuity.
We returned to our college on a Sunday afternoon: the peasants were dancing, and every one we met appeared gay and happy. My own spirits were high, and I bounded along with feelings of unbridled joy and hilarity.
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riahlynn101 · 9 months
Text
"A Facade of Indifference."
Summary: Undertaker has had many identities, but Cedric K. Ros will forever be his favorite.
Trigger warnings: nothing is super explicit, but there are mentions of canonical character deaths. One of which includes a child.
A/N: For this story - O!Ciel = Fenian, R!Ciel = Ciel
--
In his long life, Undertaker has gone by many names. 
His original name, lost to time and memories he’d do anything not to recall. 
136649, the number assigned to him by the higher ups. 
Silver fox, by his coworker. 
But truly, his favorite name, the only name that has ever mattered to him, was Cedric K. Ross. 
He’d introduced himself as such to Claudia Phantomhive, flustered by her beauty and wit. The name was less a clever pun on his end, and more a scramble to tell the beautiful debutante something, anything so she didn’t think him daft. 
It had been-at that point-close to twenty years since he had destroyed Shinigami headquarters. Occasionally he’d catch a glimpse of a death scythe, and he’d have to stop what he was doing to duck into a shop. Quite annoying, but headquarters hadn’t really made an effort to come collect him. If he knew better, Cedric might have said that they were scared of him. 
But, still, it didn’t hurt to keep a low profile.
Getting married to a noble was the exact opposite of that. The queen’s watchdog, at that. His hatred for the hag knows no bounds. Ironically, her audacity also knows no bounds. So, maybe it balances out. Somehow. 
Marrying into the Phantomhive family is akin to signing your own death certificate. It’s dangerous and deadly, and Claudia tells him over and over that she won’t resent him for leaving. That she would forgive him everything if he didn’t want to risk his life. 
But Cedric never cared much for living anyway. 
They wed, and barely a year later, Vincent was born.
Holding his son for the first time (and really all the times after that) was an experience he looks back on with a gentle sort of fondness. And that fondness only grew tenfold as his boy grew older. 
And then, two years later, in the middle of January, his daughter was born. Francis took more after him in looks than her mother, but she was still undeniably Claudia’s daughter. From the time she could speak, she was ordering her brother to behave. Her strength and courage, which grew day by day, made his heart swell with pride. He did everything in his power to encourage her, including giving her fencing lessons (which his dear wife had not been entirely pleased with).
There’s no words to describe how much he loved his family. 
And that, that love, made him worry.
Love is a weakness his higher-ups might use against him. The idea of his clever, beautiful Claudia, and their two (still young) children being harmed, made panic well up inside him. He couldn’t let that happen. 
He wouldn’t allow that to happen. 
So, he left them. 
Claudia was the sole breadwinner anyway, and the children had Tanaka to tend to them. He left only a note behind, making a vague excuse as to why he had to leave them. 
He left England behind, choosing to travel the world. Cedric fights the urge to return to his family, to check in on them. He celebrates each of their birthdays and his and Claudia’s anniversary with a baked good. 
Life wasn’t great then, he missed his family so much it physically hurt, but it was for the best he stayed away. 
And then, while in the middle of a trip to France, he got news of Claudia’s death. 
Cedric had known loss long before that moment. Before becoming a grim reaper and long after. It was hard coded into his very being, the knowledge of life and death.
But it wasn’t until that moment that he understood the grief that comes with that very same loss. That all encompassing, suffocating feeling of heaviness. Of loneliness. 
Of the hard, cold truth, that his decision to leave his family might have, in the end, been the very thing to damn them. 
He returned to England, but not as Cedric, father of Vincent and Francis Phantomhive. No, that wouldn’t do. How could he call himself their father when he was the very reason their mother was dead. 
Cedric kept to the shadows, tinkering with life and death itself. He watched with an aching heart, as his son became earl. The Queen’s Watchdog just like his mother before him.
But Cedric has never been one to be content with simply watching, so he crafted an identity. One that fit his morbid curiosity with all things death. 
The Undertaker. 
His hair-which he neglected in the months following Claudia’s death-hide his face, his identity. He works his way into his son’s graces by offering up information, and soon Cedric Undertaker found himself among the Phantomhives’ closest associates. 
His children didn’t recognize him, or at least were excellent at pretending they didn’t. It hurt, a little, but he was content with finally seeing them in-person. Alive and well.
Francis married first. Thankfully out of the Phantomhive line, but still under the queen’s immediate demand. Alexis-for all his faults-seemed nice enough, and he was hopelessly in love with her. And she-in return-was just as in love with him.
And, while it was hard watching his daughter get married, the pure happiness she radiated put his wary mind at ease. 
Her happiness only grew when she gave birth to Edward. His first grandchild, though he wasn’t allowed to share in the joy of the new arrival. Not because Francis didn’t trust him, no not at all. He….just couldn’t bring himself to hold something so precious and small and-
Elizabeth was born a few years later, just as small, just as precious as her brother before.
Vincent married second, to a beautiful but sickly young woman, Rachel. By then, Undertaker was used to his new identity. He grew close to his son, but maintained just enough distance for plausible deniability. 
When Rachel fell pregnant, his son shared his worries with him. His usual cocky, confident persona fell away, showing all the hurt Cedric left behind. 
It seemed, even with Tanaka and Claudia, his son (and most probably his daughter) needed him. He vowed to be a better father, a better grandfather even if it was from the shadows, under a different name. 
The twins were born a few months later. Both somehow even tinier than their cousins. This time, though, he pushed all his worries aside to hold one of the twins. 
Ciel and Fenian. One and the same. But Ciel-older than his brother by a mere five minutes-was announced the heir to the Phantomhive name. 
Meanwhile, Fenian-who didn’t seem to cry as loud as his brother-was pushed into his arms. His pathetic attempts at crying out instantly ceased. Big blue eyes, just like Lady Rachel’s, stared up at him. 
Then and there, he made another vow, a promise. To protect his grandchildren no matter what. To preserve their innocence and curiosity.
His grandchildren grew quickly. The twins-mirror images of one another-became harder and harder to tell apart. At least, for most people. 
For him, though, it was extremely easy to pick apart who was who. 
Ciel reminded him of Vincent - sharp features that he would no doubt grow into, a silver tongue, and an intelligence that rivaled most adults. He embodied what an heir of Phantomhive should be. 
And little Fenian. All soft features and big eyes. He took more after his mother's side, particularly her red haired sister (Angeline, if he remembered correctly). He inherited his mother’s sickness, and his aunt’s painful shyness and bookishness. Only his love for chess and his physical appearance being so similar to his brother’s denoted him as a Phantomhive. 
But the character he crafted shouldn’t care that the twins are two separate people. The Phantomhive family is a blob of faceless members, all tied together by either blood, a last name, or both.
He kept up the facade of indifference, not caring to differentiate between the twins out loud. But, in his head, while reading them a book, or holding the blanket in place so they could have their photo taken, he couldn’t help but refer to each of them by name. 
And then, the massacre happened. 
He wept for hours, over the broken, ruined remains of the estate. His son and daughter-in-law were nothing but ash by the time he could rummage through the wreckage. The twins were gone too, though most likely still alive. 
He didn’t know if that was a good thing. 
He packed his wagon with all the bodies that weren’t horrifically burnt. A project he’d been working on needed more test subjects.
Undertaker spends the next few weeks working day and night to find the twins. Reports of children’s bodies being dumped on the sides of roads come flooding in, but
no one does a single thing.
The queen, with her bleeding heart, that she just loved to wax poetic about, does nothing. 
He traced the reports back to a cathedral. The building was old and worn, likely abandoned by the church years ago. Shinigami stand around, watching the building. They chat idly among themselves, as if the most depraved actions aren’t being done to the children inside. 
That apathy, the disconnect from the pain and suffering, was one thing Undertaker would never miss from his days in retrieval. 
But them being there meant he couldn’t burst in and save them. If even one recognized him, then it would be game over. No one else would be coming to save the twins. The police refused to act, even with the amount of evidence Undertaker sent them (under a different name, of course), and their family was in shambles. 
Unfortunately, by the time he could sneak past, it was already too late. 
Ciel was dead, soul gone. And Fenian’s soul was damned, signed over to the leeches of leeches, a demon. 
He saved his grandson’s body, carrying him from the burning wreckage of the cathedral. Blood and grime clinging to him like a second skin. 
Fenian became Ciel, and was crowned earl of the house of Phantomhive. Her majesty either not noticing or caring enough, made the traumatized ten-and-a-half-year-old her watchdog. 
The only thing Undertaker hated more than her, was the demon slowly eating away at his grandson’s soul. Not his physical soul, of course, that bit would come later. But his spirit, his kindness and generosity. The hope and child-like spark in his one uncovered eye. 
It pained him, but he had a character to play and a plan to see through. If all went well, the demon wouldn’t be bothering Fenian for long. 
He offered up information when prompted, though he never made it easy. It’s surprisingly easy to annoy the little earl, but it’s a necessary evil to ensure neither the demon, nor his grandson suspect him of anything. 
It worked. Maybe a little too well, because the look his grandson sent him could only be described as betrayed. 
 His heart clenched painfully in his chest. How much trust had the little Phantomhive put in him? 
Too much, was the answer. And somehow, not enough.
His plan went awry. Everything became jumbled, snowballing until he’s watching Fenian plummet thirty feet downwards. His mourning chain, the one containing the last remaining piece of his Claudia (of his friends murdered in cold blood by her royal highness). Through the chaos the little earl and he made eye contact.
For a singular moment, he was back in the nursery, holding his grandson. Little Fenian, who was never supposed to amount to much. Tiny and sickly and a pale comparison to his already more lively older brother. Eyes of bright blue that once held hope and promise. 
Eyes that now stare up at him in fear, yes, but also in acute curiosity, locked on his mourning chain. 
He allows the little Phantomhive to take it. It’s his greatest treasure, but he’s sure his grandson will take excellent care of it. Besides, isn’t passing things down what a grandparent’s supposed to do? And he isn’t much worried about losing it anyway, after all, he’s quite certain that they’ll be meeting again very soon.
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leekingsman · 3 years
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Lemme show you this real shit
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baldwin-montclair · 3 years
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The Unlikely Advocate - Thunderstorm
Baldwin looks after his niece in France whilst his wife wrangles a troublesome witch in Oxford
PART 1
PART 2
PART 3
PART 4
———
“Darling, she’s asleep, has been for the last hour!” Baldwin took a sip of wine from the glass in his hand.
“Did you read her-“ Eileen started.
“Sleeping Beauty, I know it’s her favourite tale, even if it’s an entirely butchered version of the initial moral.”
“Maybe, but let’s not scar the seven year old with original version, just yet.”
“I defer to your wisdom,” he smiled a little, “how are things with the Oxford coven?”
“As expected, that bitch Alison is trying to get her little clique to oust me again.”
“Should I-“
“No,” the answer was abrupt, “I can handle some jumped up little cow with delusions of her own importance.”
A bright flash of light flooded the study of Baldwin’s Chateau, followed by a loud crack of thunder.
“What was that?” Eileen asked.
“Thunder clap, we’re due quite the storm.”
“Izzy hates thunder, I should come back.”
“She’s fine, she’s asleep and if she wakes up, I’ll take care of it. You can’t travel in this weather, it’s not safe.”
He heard her sigh on the other side of the phone.
“I just miss you both so much!”
“As do I you. Be safe and I will see you soon.”
After exchanging their farewells and hanging up, Baldwin returned to the pages in front of him.
Two empty wine glasses and several financial reports later, he put the pen down and leant back in his chair, turning to look at the heavy rain beating the windows. He closed his eyes, enjoying the soothing sound.
A definitive tug on the sleeve of his shirt drew his attention to the little girl in her pyjamas and holding a stuffed toy in her arms.
He had bought it for her from an old toy store when she lost her own comfort toy.
“Mr Nibbles is afraid of the thunder!” She told him, matter-of-fact.
“Is that so?” He asked in a mock serious tone, receiving a nod in response.
Eileen initially disapproved of the antique toy, frowning when he brought it home.
‘It’s creepy!’
He saw where she was coming from.
Older toys did have a tendency towards being less saccharine in expression than modern ones. Regardless, it didn’t matter, at three-years-old, Isobel studied the rabbit for a moment before picking it up and never putting it back down again.
“He told me he usually gets hot chocolate when he struggles to sleep!” She had a very well developed vocabulary for one so young.
Baldwin got up from his chair and effortlessly swept her into his arms.
“Who am I to argue with Mr Nibbles?”
Isobel giggled.
Isobel watched from her perch on the counter as he warmed the milk over the stove, chocolate and vanilla essence nearby, just one of the many pieces of culinary tips he’d learned between babysitting his niece and nephews, and, helping to raise Isobel.
“So, what is it about the thunder that scares Mr Nibbles?” He asked.
“It sounds angry,” she shrugged, “I don’t like when people are angry, or fight, fighting’s bad.”
“Sometimes,” he half agreed, “but other times it’s necessary.”
“Sarah says it’s the primitive male response to everything.”
Baldwin chuckled, the child had clearly heard the red haired witch say this thing often enough to repeat it.
“That’s possibly also true,” he nodded to the vanilla extract and Isobel dutifully handed it to him, pleased to be helping, “which is what makes it necessary.”
“Why?”
“Well, sometimes bad people threaten those we care about and we need to protect them. I actually faintly remember being called to your pre-school when some boy tried to take Mr Nibbles from you. Remind me?”
“Tommy’s was being mean. He called Mr Nibbles ugly and tried to take him to throw him in the trash!”
“And what did you do?”
Isobel thought for a second and then raised her little fist in the air.
“Bang!” She giggled.
“Exactly, bang!”
Baldwin had heard the boy’s father ranting before he even arrived at the principal’s office. As soon as he entered, however, the look of abject terror on the face of the hedge fund manager upon recognising him signalled a swift and favourable resolution.
Still, the man and his son were fortunate in not having faced Eileen, given her species’ extreme impatience with abusive males of any age.
“We’re fine now, he always keeps the bucket I like for me at golden time.”
“I feel like I have to at least try to advocate that violence isn’t always the answer but, it’s hard to argue in this case.”
“It wasn’t because of the punch,” she smiled, “he said it was because his father told him to be nice to me or they’ll have to leave their house!”
“Why?”
“Because all of their money is in this one big bag and he said that you decide how much that bag is worth.”
“Such an exaggeration,” Baldwin rolled his eyes, “but if it makes him play nice then fine.”
“Yeah, he shoved Brian the other day when he was being mean.”
“To you?”
Eileen nodded.
“What did he do?”
“Nothing, he was just saying things to try to annoy me.”
“Such as?” He asked, pouring the hot chocolate into a mug and sliding it across to the child.
“Well, we’re having a faire at school for parents and he said I can’t come because I don’t have a Mum and Dad.”
“You know that’s nonsense? Your aunt and I are your parents.”
She nodded.
“I know, he’s just-“
“An asshole!”
Isobel stared at him in shock for a few seconds before collapsing into giggles.
The storm passed, Baldwin looked over at the child fast asleep on the sofa in his study, a comfy blanket draped over her.
He picked her up and carried her to her room, settling her into the bed and left the room door ajar, just so she could follow the light if she was scared and wanted to come find him.
In the meantime, he had a vital project to undertake and dialled the number of the only person who might be able to help him.
“What have I done now?” Diana’s tone was airy and playful despite her exasperated words.
“Nothing, I uh-that is I wanted to speak with you regarding-sorry, it’s late it can wait until tomorrow. Goodnight.”
“Stop,” he heard her command as he moved to hang up and thought better of it lest she materialise in his office right then, “you’re freaking me out, tell me what’s wrong!”
“Nothing’s wrong, I just need a sounding board before I speak to Eileen about a matter regarding Isobel.”
“Is she alright?”
“Yes, she perfectly fine.”
“Then what can I help with?”
“Well, you went back in and met my father, he made you his blood sworn daughter without turning you.”
“You’re still doubting that?”
“No, not at all, in fact,” he hesitated, “I want to speak with Eileen about my adopting Isobel, properly, legally and in the eyes of our community. I just don’t know the procedure, he never told me how.”
“I’m sure I can help when the time comes.”
“If, I still need to speak with Eileen first, and if she consents then I will put it to Izzy. Should probably speak to Miyako as well.”
“Why? In case she takes the news about as well as you did?” Diana needles him affectionately.
“Something like that.” He answers with a weary sigh.
“Are we talking about the same Miyako who basically kidnaps Izzy and spoils her with ice cream and gifts when she visits, that one?”
“They do get along well,” he agreed thoughtfully, “so you don’t think it’s a horrible idea?”
“I think it would be a horrible idea not to!”
“Thank you, sister, having your support in this matter is welcome.”
“Don’t mention it, and Baldwin?”
“Yes?”
“You are already her father in all the ways that matter and you’re a good one, she’s lucky to have you.”
“Not as lucky as I am to have her, and, I suppose,” he started grudgingly, “to have you for a sister.”
“Aww, that’s so cute,” she teased, “you’re gonna get such a big hug from me next time I see you!”
“You shouldn’t threaten the head of your family, it’s disrespectful!” He retorted with a smile.
“Goodnight Baldwin.” She chuckled before hanging up.
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midnight-in-town · 3 years
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I've been reading up on all your UT theories and--what if UT/Cedric K. Ros- (Cross?) left the Shinigami and became a Phantomhive butler under Claudia & fathered Vincent? (also a parallel to Grell!) I always thought this, considering the theme of butlers being given new names, but UT's reaction to Polaris' outburst in the latest chapter (i.e. "if I were to lose you again, I would never be able to rest in peace, even in death... because I am a butler, even in death"), I am convinced
Hello Anon and thanks for reading! So, about this idea of yours: 
“what if UT/Cedric K. Ros- (Cross?) became a Phantomhive butler under Claudia & fathered Vincent? (also a parallel to Grell!)”
It’s true that I’m a believer of the UT = Cedric K. Ros, so I agree that he fathered Vincent and Frances. :)
However, while I know it’s tempting to imagine that UT used to be Claudia’s butler (since, indeed, most iconic duos of this series are made of a master and their butler), personally I disagree with this theory for 4 reasons! 
Butlers aren’t the only characters who received an identity in Kuro
In fact, it’s a theme of the series for many characters to act on behalf of the identity they’ve taken for themselves (Finny, Noah’s Ark, Snake, our!Ciel himself, etc).
So while I agree that UT was possibly once given the name “Cedric” by Claudia, this doesn’t imply that it was necessarily because he was her butler. :) 
UT’s lockets
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I’d also like to remind you that Claudia’s locket is not the only one on UT’s chain and he apparently referred to all of them as his “treasure”.
So, unless we’re to assume he was the butler of all these people represented by the lockets, I think it’s hard to assume that UT was Claudia’s butler when he apparently met many humans he did enjoy/care about, after he deserted.
Also Seb found no link between the different people represented by the lockets, so they can’t all be fellow servants of the Phantomhive household (for instance). Speaking of which...
Tanaka’s character
If UT used to be Claudia’s butler, then what about Tanaka’s character, who’s also a butler?
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After all, we know that Tanaka has been around the household since Claudia’s days as the Watchdog, as well as since Vincent and Frances’ childhood. 
So I don’t think Claudia would have had 2 butlers (not considering the usual master & butler duos amongst the series) and I also don’t think UT trained Tanaka because, in ch151, UT said...
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Of course, it’s hard to know whether he was telling the truth or lying in this whole chapter (since whoever he used to be is gone, now he’s only “the Undertaker”), but still, I think Tanaka as both Claudia’s and then Vincent’s butler makes more sense with what we’ve seen so far of the past.
Of course I can be wrong, but actually...
I think UT rather used to act as/be a nobleman 
And I made a whole post about this idea here. :3 In other words, I’m overall more fond of the theory that UT used to possibly be “Earl Phantomhive” before Vincent, while “the Watchdog” was Claudia. [x]
As for UT’s reaction to Polaris’ words in the newest chapter, hm, well...
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...it’s actually hard to interpret it, because :
UT could simply be worried about Polaris not lasting as a bizarre doll (since BDs need “episodes” of quality to keep on functioning, as much as they need edited records and, as we now know, blood transfusions)
UT could be thinking about “not being able to rest” until he’s finished what he’s trying to achieve through the BD project, and that even if the Shinigamis catch him, or Victoria or Seb get in his way
since it’s definitely a flashback arc (Ciel’s, Mey’s, etc), maybe UT could be thinking about the life he led before he killed himself
And that’s only 3 ideas out of many possibilities. 
Frankly speaking though, maybe UT once had a master he served, but then again...
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UT’s character does seem to enjoy the freedom to think and act entirely for himself (or for what pleases him), because he’s been existing for a long time. So after being such a skilled Shinigami and deserting, because he possibly found some huge dirt on their higher-ups, I find it hard to believe that he’d have been happy as someone’s butler. But again, I can be absolutely wrong!
TL;DR I understand why some fans choose to follow the idea that UT used to be Claudia’s butler, considering that we had many master/butler duos in the series so far. For now, it’s simply not my favorite possibility though. :)
I hope I managed to explain my point of view? Please have a nice day, Anon! :3
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Hello Anon and thanks for sharing your thoughts. :)) 
Actually, I have no idea if Yana means for UT to be a real-life historical figure but, to be honest, if Sensei wants to introduce actual historical people in the main cast then my money’s not on UT. After all, Yana is Japanese, so I don’t know how much she would know about England’s History (and, I mean, this is quite the specific historical fact). 
So who knows! Personally, I’d rather bet on Tanaka as an actual historical figure within the main cast. :)) [x][x]
Thanks again for sharing your idea and have a nice day Anon!
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The best and worst films of 2020
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Let’s be honest - 2020 was an extremely shitty year for moviegoers everywhere, as the Queen would say an annus horribilis.
Due to the Covid pandemic’s dramatic impact on nearly every facet of human life, cinemas closed, film festivals went virtual and film productions became an intricate mess of insurance and safety challenges.
Yet despite these dire challenges and an unpredictable future, cinema remained very much alive throughout the year, with a wide range of ambitious undertakings snaking their way into whatever form of release seemed viable. Blockbusters receded to the background, allowing a wide range of movies to trickle through an uncertain marketplace that would have been hostile to them even in pre-pandemic times.
So what cinematic gems and unmitigated disasters were dropped upon audiences during the year?
Ladies and gentlemen, may we please offer for your consideration...
HONOURABLE MENTIONS
THE CURRENT WAR - THE LIGHTHOUSE - IN FABRIC - BEING FRANK: THE CHRIS SIEVEY STORY (D) - BOMBSHELL - THE PEANUT BUTTER FALCON - THE SOCIAL DILEMMA (D) - LIGHT OF MY LIFE - THE ASSISTANT - THE LODGE - THE GENTLEMEN - THE WAY BACK - DARK WATERS - 1917 - THE BURNT ORANGE HERESY - THE HUNT
2020′S TOP TEN BEST FILMS
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10. THE WOLF OF SNOW HOLLOW
Hot off the critical success of his debut feature ‘Thunder Road,’ writer-director Jim Cummings’ refreshing yet effective take on the werewolf genre amped up the dark comedy whilst delivering quite a few chills. Tinged with realistically flawed characters and clever scares, ‘The Wolf of Snow Hollow’ might not have been your typical werewolf flick but it successfully managed to bring that classic legend to life once again.
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9. LET HIM GO
Previously last seen together as Clark Kent’s adoptive parents in ‘Man of Steel,’ Diane Lane and Kevin Costner were reunited onscreen as husband and wife again in writer-director Thomas Bezucha’s neo-Western drama ‘Let Him Go.’ Adapted from author Larry Watson’s 2013 novel, the film featured stunning landscapes, full-blooded moments of sudden violence and compelling performances from Diane Lane, Kevin Costner and, most memorably, Lesley Manville’s turn as a gritty and cunning matriarch.
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8. COLOUR OUT OF SPACE
Based on the classic short story by HP Lovecraft and featuring another scene-stealing performance from Nicolas Cage, this clever adaptation was an effective horror film with an unrelentingly grim sci-fi bent. In addition to the truly disturbing and inspired images of queasy body horror, ‘Colour Out of Space’ also marked the eagerly-anticipated re-emergence of filmmaker Richard Stanley (his first time back in the director’s chair since being fired from his 1996 remake ‘The Island of Dr Moreau’).
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7. THE INVISIBLE MAN
Who knew a remake could be so refreshing? With this updated take on the H.G. Wells tale, writer-director Leigh Whannell did just about everything right, delivering a tense, clever thriller with touches of both horror and sci-fi. As the fascinatingly flawed yet appealing tough protagonist, Elisabeth Moss gave a captivating performance in a film that was chilling in all the right ways, packed with plenty of twists and a deliciously nasty resolution.
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6. THE TRIAL OF THE CHICAGO 7 (NETFLIX)
Whilst the subject matter of ‘The Trial of the Chicago 7′ shared an uncanny relevance to today’s politically charged times, as a gripping courtroom drama with a stellar cast, the film ticked all the boxes. ‘West Wing’ creator Aaron Sorkin put his trademark traits - razor-sharp wit, rhetorical flair and political insight - to very good use in this masterful retelling of the trial following the 1968 anti-war protests outside the Democratic National Convention.
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5. HEARTS AND BONES
In his debut feature film, Australian director Ben Lawrence created a spiritually rich and immersive drama about the relationship between a grizzled, broken war photographer and a Sudanese refugee. Whilst Hugo Weaving was note-perfect in his portrayal as a crumbling man wrestling with his past, equally impressive was first time actor Andrew Luri who delivered a quiet yet memorable performance in what was an affecting piece of cinema.
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4. TOTALLY UNDER CONTROL (DOCUMENTARY)
Watching a documentary about the COVID-19 crisis in the middle of a global pandemic might not sound appealing but prolific filmmaker Alex Gibney’s latest work was easily the most essential non-fiction film of 2020. Shot safely in secret for five months, ‘Totally Under Control’ played out like a tightly-wound thriller as it placed the Trump Administration’s inept response to the coronavirus pandemic under the microscope.
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3. BAD EDUCATION (HBO)
As far as crime stories go, embezzlement isn’t always the most thrilling subject. However, ‘Bad Education’ turned a relatively simple white collar crime story about a New Jersey school administrator caught stealing money into a compelling drama, thanks to an incisive and nimble script and spot on performances from Allison Janney, Geraldine Viswanathan, Ray Romano and especially Hugh Jackman.
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2. MANK (NETFLIX)
Director David Finch’s dazzling portrait of Herman J. ‘Mank’ Mankiewicz, the screenwriter who collaborated with wunderkind filmmaker Orson Welles to write the first draft of ‘Citizen Kane,’ was a cinematic jewel from start to finish. Similar to last year’s ‘Once Upon A Time in...Hollywood,’ ‘Mank’ delivered a layered depiction of the filmmaking process, whilst Gary Oldman continued to excel at immersing himself in playing real-life characters, this time as the hard-drinking, intellectual screenwriter.
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1. NOMADLAND
Writer-director Chloe Zhao’s intimate drama about an unemployed widow living as a van-dwelling modern-day nomad was a thoughtful, contemplative and reflective piece of storytelling. It may have touched upon mature themes about loneliness, financial instability and restlessness, but ‘Nomadland’ remained an uplifting and hopeful piece of cinema that captured the various bittersweet reasons people choose to live a life on the road.
With an outstanding performance from Frances McDormand, brought to life through the charm of the ‘real life’ supporting cast, great direction and Joshua James Richard’s mesmerising cinematography, ‘Nomadland’ was the perfect film for 2020.
...AND NOW THE WORST!
DISHONOURABLE MENTIONS
VAMPIRES VS THE BRONX - BAD BOYS FOR LIFE - THE OLD GUARD - PROJECT POWER - ISN’T IT ROMANTIC - THE RHYTHM SECTION - WHERE’D YOU GO, BERNADETTE - I’M THINKING OF ENDING THINGS - MIDWAY - YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT - BABY DONE - FORCE OF NATURE - CAPONE - THE NEW MUTANTS - DOOLITTLE
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10. WONDER WOMAN 1984
To quote Red Letter Media’s resident film critic Mike Stoklasa, “this movie was the cinematic equivalent of the Bluesmobile.” Directed by Patty Jenkins, this 80′s-set sequel to the 2017 DC superhero hit was lethargically paced and featured a completely bonkers narrative that made absolutely no sense. Horribly scripted, disjointed and overstuffed (a runtime of 2.5 hours), ‘Wonder Woman 1984′ sadly jettisoned everything that made Jenkins’ original film so compelling. The result? An appalling misfire.
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9. THE GRUDGE
A curiously talented and interesting cast were somehow lured into - and subsequently wasted in - this pointless, tired, reboot/revival of the long-running ‘Ju-On’ Japanese-based horror series. Despite director NIcholas Pesce’s attempt to disguise the rudimentary nature of the plot via back-and-forth timeline jumping, ‘The Grudge’ was just a formulaic paint-by-the-numbers meander through a poorly developed story that existed only to prop up a bunch of uninspired jump scares.
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8. BIRDS OF PREY (AND THE FANTABULOUS EMANCIPATION OF ONE HARLEY QUINN)
There are many movies that have no reason to exist - and this latest misfire from DC Comics was one of them. Directed by Cathy Yan, ‘Birds of Prey’ was a mire of uninspired ideas and recycled genre conventions that got old real quick. Penned by Christina Hodson (’Bumblebee’ being the ‘highlight’ on her resume), the script was as simplistic as it was thin, with needless subplots merely introduced to inflate the film to a decent running time. Even Margot Robbie’s manic performance as the ‘Mistress of Mayhem’ couldn’t save this mess.
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7. JAY AND SILENT BOB REBOOT
What could’ve been a dream film for fans of these two classic stoner characters instead was nothing but a string of cameos and callbacks in a plot-less bore. Director Kevin Smith sucked all the life and fun out of this watered-down story, that suffered from a constant series of awkward and forced jokes that were painfully unfunny. An unfortunate stinker.
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6. AVA
This latest foray into the ‘female assassin for hire’ genre was about as cliched as you could get. An emotionally troubled female killer whose male mentor assumes the role of the surrogate father? Check. Pounding dance music score? Check. Obligatory nightclub fight sequence? Check. Confused love interest? You betcha! Humourless, dry and uninspired, ‘Ava’ played out like a poor man’s ‘La Femme Nikita.’
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5. FANTASY ISLAND
Hollywood’s obsession with repackaging Gen-X childhoods continued with this absurd attempt to reboot the classic 1970′s TV series as a low-budget horror joint under the Blumhouse label. At a dangerously close two hour runtime, there was simply nothing interesting about the film’s characters or its inane plot about a mystical island that grants wishes (a’la ‘The Monkey’s Paw’). Our advice? Turn ‘de plane’ around if you ever plan to visit this ‘Fantasy Island.’
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4. ARTEMIS FOWL
For every ‘Harry Potter’ that explodes into the public consciousness, there always seems to be a dozen or more failed franchises. Sadly, Disney’s ‘Artemis Fowl’ found itself in the latter category. Director Kenneth Branagh’s dull and superficial attempt to transfer this popular children’s book series from page to screen suffered from a lack of character development, an over-reliance in CG effects and featured a lifeless performance from newcomer Ferdia Shaw as the titular character. 
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3. HUBIE HALLOWEEN (NETFLIX)
A month before last year’s Oscar nominations were released, Adam Sandler joked on ‘The Howard Stern Show’ that if the Academy snubbed him for his role in the film ‘Uncut Gems,’ he would make a movie “that [was] so bad on purpose.” And that’s exactly what happened. Supposedly a comedy, ‘Hubie Halloween’ was unfunny, disposable and completely devoid of any originality. Sadly for audiences, Sandler signed a four-movie deal with Netflix last year, worth up to $275 million - so we can expect to see more of this shit soon!
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2. ALIEN ADDICTION
Aliens visit New Zealand and get high smoking human faeces? Someone should have advised Kiwi director Shae Sterling that audiences have moved on from such puerile comedies as this abomination. Suffice to say, if anybody ever admitted to finding this film remotely funny, they’d probably be outcast from society. An embarrassment to all those involved. 
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1. THE BEACH BUM
Director Harmony Korine’s generic stoner comedy about a prolific poet who drifts through life in a drug-induced haze had all the natural high of an unfiltered, soggy joint and was easily, hands down, 2020′s worst film.
‘The Beach Bum’ was a pretentious and uninteresting movie whose lead character, considered to be an ‘artistic genius,’ was nothing more than a relentless shithead to everyone around him. As Moondog, the semi-naked, bongo-playing, pot-fuelled beat poet, Matthew McConaughey was insufferable and grating in his portrayal of a character you would quite easily want to punch in the face - repeatedly. Blazed and confused, ‘The Beach Bum’ had no plot, no class and no entertainment value whatsoever. 
MOVIE POSTERS
From the classic to the abstract, here is just a sample of some of the best poster designs from a highly unusual year of movies.
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...AND FINALLY, WHEN WHEN IT COMES TO DIRE-LOG, THEY SAID WHAT!?
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“I've never wanted anything more. But he's gone, and that's the truth. And everything has a price. One I'm not willing to pay. Not any more. This world was a beautiful place, just as it was, and you cannot have it all. You can only have the truth. And the truth is enough. The truth is beautiful” (’Wonder Woman 1984′).
And who could forget this little chestnut of advice...
“That is the only truth and truth is all there is. You cannot be the winner because you are not ready to win. And there is no shame in that. Only in knowing the truth in your heart and not accepting it. No true hero is born from lies” (’Wonder Woman 1984′).
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THE St. Jordi BCN Film Festival ’21 FILM REVIEWS
VOL. I: What’s Good!
by Lucas Avram Cavazos
YOUR #VOSEng take on upcoming international cinema premiering in Catalonia & Spain soon
To begin with, for a fellow who has for years been used to screening or viewing hundreds of movies annually, thereby spending hella time in cinemas, a global pandemic has been a true shock to the dork’s system. It has been a testament to the mindset of ‘the show must go on’ to see so many of our local and other European film festivals pushing back against the virus and powering through what could be deemed a safety issue by many. But basta! For starters, temp checks and hand sanitiser stations plus mandatory mask wearing have made a true return to movie going a half-wonderful respite. And so many thanks to Conxita Casanovas, Marien Pinies, David Mitjans, Cines Verdi BCN, Institut Francaise, and Casa Seat plus ALL the industry, press and movie lovers for making one of my favourite film festivals back to life for the half-decade anniversary. And I’m not just saying that for shits n’ giggles.
As an educator and broadcaster, history not only steeps itself within the confines of my classes, sessions and weekly radio/livestream shows, but every single one of us are literally living and walking and thriving through history, even as I scribe. So congratulations to anyone reading this, because you are Destiny's Child’ing it all over this place like drum n’ bass! On to the festival and cinema though please…
The St. Jordi BCN Film Festival revolves around the celebrated St. George’s/Day of the Book holiday here in Catalonia and so all the movies are based upon literary and historical works and facts. Red carpet moments and celebrities also make up the soirees and this year proved even better than others, with the likes of Johnny Depp and Isabelle Huppert being hosted by Cines Verdi, Institut Francaise and Casa Fuster. Depp, dressed as his character (I believe!) from his latest premiere Minamata -reviewed below- even mentioned that he would have loved to stay longer if he could keep Casa Fuster all to himself. And the day after her premiere for Mama Weed -also reviewed below- Huppert was seen being gorgeous at another film screening and then meandering about Gracia. But let’s speak about some of the movies that piqued my interest and will hopefully do the same to yours.
Petit Pays by Eric Barbier ####
Winner of Best Film at this year’s festival awards, Petit Pays tells a quasi-true story of family struggle during the Hutu vs Tutsi massacre that befell the gorgeous countries of Burundi and Rwanda in the early-to-mid 90s. But that is just the mere slice of what the plot truly entails. Focusing on little Gaby (Djibril Vancoppenolle) and his wee sister Ana (Dayla De Medina) as they make their way through childhood/pre-teen years, the plot thickens when the genocide starts to spill over and touch their lives, hectically lived with their Belgian father (Jean-Paul Rouve) and Rwandan mother (Isabelle Kabano, winner of the Best Actress award at this year’s festival). Truth be told, they do live in the lap of African middle class pleasantries, but as the film tenses up, reality sets in for all involved, including us viewers. The harsh reality that director Barbier fuses into the novel adaptation by French-Rwandan rapper/author Gael Faye seeks to display to the audience the truth of a genocidal history and how the sins of the parents always come back to burden or visit the children.
Where to watch: debuts in local cinemas 28/05/21
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Promising Young Woman by Emerald Fennell ####
Oscar-nominated and local premiere hit Promising Young Woman had a stellar reception at this year’s festival and what a tour de force it turned out to be. The film plot revolves around medical school dropout Cassie Thomas (Carey Mulligan), who turns 30 and passes her time working at a trendy coffee shop but completely unmotivated whilst also continuing to live with her increasingly-worried parents. Years after her best mate killed herself, Cassie drags the guilt and loss along with her…until a blast from the past shows up, gets his coffee spat in and then falls head over heels into what will turn into a revenge tale beyond one’s craziest notions. A tale of loss that touches on modern themes in a frighteningly understandable way is few and far between these days. Fennell’s work here puts her on the map for sure.
Where to watch: in local cinemas NOW
Minamata by Andrew Levitas ###-1/2
This year marks 50 years since a collective understanding by world powers finally began to comprehend the enormity that factories create against Mother Nature and living creatures. It’s New York and 1971 when we find W. Eugene Smith (Johnny Depp), Life magazine photo journalist and one awash in a realm of problems. Then, adding to that drama, we find him suddenly embroiled on a task and mission that is presented by a couple of his fans, without his awareness that he has also stumbled onto a truth beyond wills. Environmental devastation affecting the innocent in Minamata, Japan is where we eventually spend the plurality of the film, and if you can get through the end scene of it without tears or shame of what mankind has wrought, you’re a tougher kid than I.
Where to watch: in local cinemas as of 30 April
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Mama Weed by Jean-Paul Salomé ####
I cannot even begin to explain how much I absolutely enjoyed screening this film by the gifted and curious director Salomé, but it is without a doubt the tour de force work of ageless French star Isabelle Huppert that summons one to watch and compels them to laugh and engage. Undoubtedly, adapting any work of art from literature is never an easy undertaking, but the bringing to life of Patience Portefeux, a judicial interpreter for France’s investigation division, turns out to be crown jewel by Huppert. Serving up comical thrills, blithe acting when under insane pressure by duel forces and fierce Arab queen fashions, this film will have you white-knuckled, perplexed and laughing, all in tandem. THIS is an early-in-the-year film that deserves some attention!
Where to watch: in local cinemas NOW
My Salinger Year by Philippe Falardeau ###-1/2
Based on the like-titled autobio novel by Joanna Smith Rakoff, the movie stars Margaret Qualley as Joanna, an aspiring writer and young upstart in an NYC lit agency, whose tasks include many things, including answering the many fan mail letters that come for the agency’s fave writer J.D. Salinger, he of the oft-loved US American coming-of-age novel Catcher in the Rye. Even this guy connected to Holden Caulfield as a youth so when Joanna one day fields a call from Salinger and then gets caught trying to find endearing manners to respond to these grand fans, an incident leads to a coming-of-age awareness experience for Joanna and we the audience are the ones who are all the better for it.
Where to watch: in local cinemas on 4/6/21
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misscrawfords · 5 years
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So you want to read something like Jane Austen?
I see lots of posts where people answer this question with recommendations for classic historical romance authors like Georgette Heyer or more modern bodice-rippers like Julia Quinn or Tessa Dare. But to me that’s never quite the appropriate answer. Sure, if what you want is romance with country dancing and breeches, that’s fine, but surely if you want to read more things similar to Jane Austen, the best way to do that is to delve into her lesser known contemporaries. People Austen admired and people who admired her. People writing on similar themes and using similar language. 
So this is my list of 10 novels from the 18th and early 19th century that you might like to try if you’ve read Austen and want to branch out more. These are just personal recommendations and based off what I’ve read; I’m very happy to hear other suggestions!
Worth noting as well that all of these are available online or free for kindle download. :)
1. Evelina, or the History of a Young Lady's Entrance into the World by Fanny Burney (1778) Summary: Evelina Anville is a shy, innocent country girl who is invited to London by friends. Here, she attempts to navigate the complicated social mores of the season while keeping her integrity. She encounters handsome men, vulgar relations and gets into numerous alarming and hilarious scrapes along the way to discovering her true noble heritage and winning the love and hand of the charming Lord Orville. Why you should read it: A great first novel for Austen fans to get into who aren’t otherwise familiar with literature of the period. Burney’s first novel is sparkling, witty, filled with dialogue and not very long. The humour is more robust than Austen’s - it’s definitely Georgian rather than Regency - but a lot of the scenarios will be familiar to Austen readers. Particularly recommended for fans of Northanger Abbey, Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice and readers who like historical romances set during the London season.
2. Cecilia, or Memoirs of an Heiress by Fanny Burney (1782) Summary: Cecilia Beverley is an orphaned heiress who will only inherit her fortune on the very specific condition that her husband takes her name. Until she turns 21 she is left with three very different guardians - the profligate Mr. Harrell, the proud Mr. Delvile, and the vulgar Mr. Briggs. Cecilia must protect herself from the advances of the unscrupulous fortune hunters she meets and deal with her feelings for young Mortimer Delvile, whose family is excessively proud of its ancient name. Why you should read it: IMO Cecilia is a masterpiece. It’s a much longer and complex novel than Evelina but it contains fierce social satire and commentary of a world where women are horribly vulnerable and money rules all interactions pointing forwards to authors like Dickens and Eliot. Burney is a little more moralistic and less witty here but it’s a fascinating portrayal of a highly intelligent and capable, independent woman in a world where she is constrained by the men around her, in the kind of plot that romance novelists can only dream of. It’s also worth noting that Pride and Prejudice was arguably written as a response to Cecilia and it is very interesting to spot and consider the ways in which Austen was explicitly influenced by this novel and what she changed in writing Pride and Prejudice. Particularly recommended for fans of Pride and Prejudice and Emma. Please note that this novel contains a suicide and (period appropriate) mental illness.
3. Belinda by Maria Edgeworth (1801) Summary: Belinda Portman is sent to live with the fashionable Lady Delacour in London with whom she develops a strong friendship. Part of the plot deals with Lady Delacour’s fear that she has breast cancer and part with the customary romantic entanglements of a young girl out in the London season. Why you should read it: Maria Edgeworth was one of the most popular novelists of Austen’s day - and was far more commercially successful. Belinda is her second novel and has been compared to Austen for its natural portrayal of character. Lady Delacour is the most interesting character - a slightly older woman, independent, strong-minded and fearless. Particularly recommended for fans of Persuasion, Lady Susan, Sanditon and of potentially queer subtext, intriguing references to interracial marriages (look it up!) and 18th century surgery.
4. Patronage by Maria Edgeworth (1814) Summary: A magnum opus almost Dickensian in scale charting the rises and falls of two neighbouring families, the hard-working and virtuous Percy family and the ambitious, scheming Falconers. The daughters need marriages, the sons need careers and the paterfamilias of each family must make tough decisions about what he wants his family to stand for. Why you should read it: This novel is admittedly a brick and tough to get through at times but it really is worth it. You are plunged into Regency society in a way no other contemporary novel succeeds in with a large and varied cast of characters. The novel also takes you into the world of men and their professions in a way that Austen never does. Particularly recommended for fans of Mansfield Park (which was published in the same year) and people who want to learn more about Regency society in all its forms.
5. Rob Roy by Walter Scott (1817) Summary: Romantic Frank Osbaldistone leaves his father’s business in London to visit his cousins in north England where he meets and falls in love with the beautiful and charming Diana Vernon, gets caught up in a Jacobite plot and the scheming of his wicked cousin, Rashleigh, and meets the famous Scottish outlaw, Rob Roy. Why you should read it: There were several Scott novels that could be included here but I picked Rob Roy for its attractive portrayal of Diana, since Scott is not always great at writing 3D heroines Austen fans will like. Scott was the most successful novelist at the time, bursting onto the novel scene writing novels with a male protagonist at a time when most novels were by, for and about women. Scott and Austen admired each other a great deal despite writing in very different genres, with Scott writing historical romances rather than contemporary social satires. Particularly recommended for fans of Persuasion, Northanger Abbey and Pride and Prejudice.
6. The Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe (1794) Summary: Set vaguely in the 16th century, this most famous gothic novel follows the adventures of Emily St Aubert from her father’s French estate to Venice with her aunt, Madame Cheron after he dies and then, when her aunt marries the sinister Montoni, to his castle in the Italian Apennines.  Why you should read it: C’mon, it’s Udolpho! Don’t you want to know what’s behind the infamous black veil? Northanger Abbey will be 10 times better once you’ve read Udolpho and despite the excessive amount of fainting, overuse of the word “sublime” and far too many spontaneous reciting of poetry, it’s a genuinely engaging adventure novel with larger-than-life characters, daring adventures, and some really beautiful descriptions of France and Italy. Particularly recommended for fans of Northanger Abbey, obviously.
7. Nightmare Abbey by Thomas Love Peacock (1818) Summary: Utterly ridiculous gothic satire with a tenuous plot about a morose widower who lives with his son, Scythrop, in a crumbling mansion in Lincolnshire, but you’re not reading this for the plot. Why you should read it: I read it for university, having never heard of it before, and found it hilarious. Published in the same year as Northanger Abbey, it is similar in poking fun at gothic conventions. It depends on a reasonable knowledge of gothic novels and contemporary literature and philosophy so not a novel for beginners to undertake unless you have an edition with a commentary, but it’s very short and absolutely absurd. Particularly recommended for fans of Northanger Abbey and the Juvenilia.
8. Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded by Samuel Richardson (1740) Summary: Pamela is a maid in Mr. B’s house and must use all her ingenuity to fend off her employer’s advances and convert his many and increasingly desperate attempts to seduce her into a marriage proposal. Why you should read it: Pamela was a sensation when it was first published. Written in the form of letters, it was arguably the first novel to really get into the brain of a young woman and was quite radical in its treatment of the relationship between the sexes, consequently being highly influential on subsequent novels. Any of Richardson’s novels could deserve a place here - Clarissa is arguably his best but it’s ridiculously long and I haven’t read it, and Sir Charles Grandison was apparently Austen’s favourite novel but I also haven’t read it. Pamela is probably the most approachable but please note, in case the summary didn’t set off enough alarm bells, its depiction of consent is very much of its time. Particularly recommended for fans of the literary culture into which Austen was born.
9. Marriage by Susan Ferrier (1813) Summary: Lady Juliana rather foolishly elopes with an impoverished Scot and must adapt to living in his rundown estate in the Highlands. The first half of the novel deals with Juliana’s comic attempts to deal with this rough kind of living while the second half, set 17 years later, follows Juliana’s daughter, Mary, a virtuous girl, who goes to live in Bath with her cousins, including the “naughty” Adelaide. Why you should read it: Ferrier was another author much more popular than Austen at the time. Marriage is similar to Burney and Edgeworth in its plots and scopes and there are moments when she almost reaches Austen’s wit. It is, however, rather more heavy-handed in its obvious morality and in the way it contrasts its good heroine and bad (but far more appealing) anti-heroine. Very typical of women’s novels of the time. Particularly recommended for fans of Sense and Sensibility and Mansfield Park.
10. St Ronan’s Well by Walter Scott (1824) Summary: This novel follows Francis Tyrell and his attempts to marry his former love, Clara Mowbray, and fend off his rival, the engaging but sinister Lord Etherington. All of this is set under a backdrop of the gossip and scandal-mongering of a fictional Scottish spa town.  Why you should read it: This is a self-indulgent inclusion - I wrote my dissertation on it, Scott’s least known and least loved novel. It’s Scott’s only attempt to write a contemporary novel and it is obvious that he is influenced by Austen and trying in many ways to emulate her. It’s not entirely successful and the novel is an uneasy mix of sparkling dialogue and social satire with melodrama and romantic tragedy. The characters are really great, however, particularly Scott’s portrayal of Clara’s deep unhappiness, and the plot quite shocking- make sure you get hold of a first edition or at least read up on it, as Scott was later forced to remove his earlier references to pre-marital sex, which is really key for the plot. Particularly recommended for fans of Emma, Mansfield Park and Persuasion.
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demigodsanswer · 4 years
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ChrisXClarisse Baby Headcanons
I’ve had these headcanons for a while, and I’ve written about them in a few different ways and stories, so sorry if some of these are repeats or revisions of things you’ve already read, sorry. 
This is also, stupid long, so maybe one day I’ll undertake actually making this a fic. 
If you want more details on any part of this, or an additional part (because I have headcanons for all 3 of their kids) just drop me an ask. 
Clarisse learns she’s pregnant at the beginning of November. She’s 23 and in her final year of her education Master’s program. Chris is 24 and in his last year of law school. 
She doesn’t tell Chris that she thinks she’s pregnant, because she’s sure she can’t be. But then the test is positive. So she takes a few more, and they’re all positive. She goes to Planned Parenthood, and the confirm it. They give her prenatal vitamins to start taking and give her information on pregnancy, birth, and abortion to help her weigh her options.
She still doesn’t tell Chris. She decides that she wants to decide on her own if she wants to keep the baby or not, and then tell him. That way, if they disagree on what to do, she can be comfortable in her choice, and they can break up if they think it’s appropriate. 
And then at the end of the first week she realizes she doesn’t think she can make this decision without him. But then she gets more anxious because she’s waited so long to tell him. She puts it off for another three days. 
Then, on Thursday morning, when she’s about seven weeks pregnant, she wakes up with morning sickness for the first time. Chris had already left for class, but Pollux (who was living with them at the time) hadn’t. He hears her getting sick and goes into the bathroom to check on her and bring her water. 
When she feels like she’s not going throw up for a while, she leans back against the bathtub, and Pollux asks whats wrong. She’s been so stressed and scared for a week and a half that him asking that just makes her cry, because she feels so guilty and scared. 
He just holds her until she finally tells him that she’s pregnant. The first thing he asks is “Does Chris know?” And then she cries more. Pollux figures that means ‘no.’
When she stops crying and throwing up, she explains why she hasn’t told Chris yet. 
“I get why you haven’t,” Pollux tells her. “This is huge, and it’s scary. But Chris loves you, and he’ll understand. You guys love each other and you’ll work this out together.” 
Clarisse agrees that Pollux is right and resolves to tell Chris when he gets home. 
Chris, meanwhile, has been able to tell that Clarisse has been acting strange. So when he gets home and she’s sitting on the couch, looking nervous, and and says “I need to talk to you,” he worries that she’s going to break up with him. 
She’s pacing in their room while he sits on the bed, waiting for her to say something. 
“Is everything okay? What’s going on? Reese, talk to me.” 
“I’m pregnant.” She finally says. 
His first thought is relief that she’s not going to break up with him. And then panic. “What?” 
“I’m pregnant.” She says. “I’m sorry.” 
“What, no, no, it’s okay, you don’t need to apologize,” he stood up and hugged her. “Everything’s gonna be okay. Are you sure?” 
She pulled away and looked down, “Yeah, I ... I’ve known for a little while.” 
“What?” 
“I found out over a week ago. I’ve been to Planned Parenthood. I’m sure.” 
Chris was confused. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?” 
Clarisse: “I ... don’t ... I just wanted to know what I wanted to do about it, in case we disagreed. I didn’t want to make you raise a kid you didn’t want or not keep the baby you wanted. So I just figured --” 
Chris: “You wouldn’t tell me in case you wanted to break up with me over it?” 
Clarisse: “No ... I ... Look, what I realized was that I couldn’t make this decision without you!” 
Chris: “I hope not!” 
Clarisse: “I’m sorry! I know I should have told you, but ...” 
She sat down on the bed, and Chris sat down next to her, his anger subsiding when he saw how scared she looked. And she never looked scared.
“I’m sorry,” Chris said, “for getting angry. I just ... I don’t want you to worry that I’ll ever leave. We can figure this out together.” 
They make some tea and sit down to figure everything out together. 
They realize that the baby won’t be due until late June, which means they’ll both be done with school and hopefully have jobs. Chris was already slotted to take the Bar exam in February, and Clarisse had a lot of good connections to a number of private high schools in New York. So their job prospects were pretty good. And with the baby being born in the summer, they wouldn’t need a nanny or maternity leave for the first two months because Clarisse would be home anyway. 
After a few days of checking savings accounts, average costs, health insurance, and such, they decide to keep the baby. 
“I didn’t think that I would ever want kids,” Clarisse said when Chris asked, if money wasn’t an option, what she would want to do, “but I think, now that I’m pregnant, I kind of want this baby. 
Chris smiled, “I feel the same way.” 
So they decide to go for it. 
They are planning to visit Clarisse’s mom in Paris for Christmas, and Chris’s mom was going to go with them. So they figure they’ll tell their parents then. By then, Calrisse would be three months pregnant, so that would mean there was a lower chance of losing the baby. 
Meanwhile, Clarisse’s morning sickness is awful. She is throwing up every morning. It’s so bad that Chris buys her barf bags on Amazon so that she can actually travel to her campus when she has morning classes. 
They have a red-eye flight to France, so she feels like her body is a ticking time bomb. She warns the flight attendants, and she has an isle seat, but it’s still rough. 
She makes it off the plane without throwing up, but when they find Chris’s mom, Katerina, in the airport (she flew in a bit earlier from Michigan), Clarisse suddenly feels very ill. She runs to the bathroom, and Chris lies and tells his mom that she has the stomach flu. They’re planning on telling both parents at dinner. 
She makes it out of the bathroom, feeling like garbage, and then they finally find Clarisse’s step father, Jacque. She tells him she has the stomach flu as well. Twice on their way home she makes him pull over so she can throw up on the side of the road. 
Chris’s mom suspects she’s pregnant, but Clarisse’s step dad seems oblivious. 
When they get to Clarisse’s mom’s apartment, Clarisse runs in to go to the bathroom again. Chris goes to follow her, but Madeline stops him, and says she’ll go check on her so Chris can get settled. Jacque leaves to go get seltzer and flu medicine. 
So it’s just Chris and his mom in the living room. His mom can tell that he’s nervous about Clarisse being sick, so she said, “Don’t worry, this usually only lasts for the first trimester,” 
“I know, that’s what the OB said, but ...” Chris then realized what he had said. “Shit.” 
“Is she pregnant?”
“Yes,” Chris could tell that his mom didn’t look thrilled, “we’re really excited.” 
“It’s not going to be easy,” 
“We know,” 
“But if you’re happy, I’m happy for you.” Chris wasn’t sure he fully believed her, but that was good enough for now. 
“We were planning on telling people tonight, so please don’t say anything.” 
She agreed. 
Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Madeline handed Clarisse a dixi cup of water and flushed the toilet. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. How long have you been sick?”
Clarisse shrugged. “Not too long,” 
Madeline laughed, “Maybe you’re pregnant,” she joked. 
Clarisse leaned back on her heals, not looking at her mom, wondering if she might throw up. “I am.” She said. 
“Oh please, don’t be dramatic Clarisse, I was just joking.” 
“No, mamma. I’m pregnant,” she didn’t really have a baby bump yet, but you could feel the start of something if you rested a hand on her abdomen. “Chris and I have known for a month,” 
Madeline smiled. “Really? You’re really pregnant?” 
“Yeah,” 
“Are you happy?” 
Clarisse smiled too. Her mom was crying and laughing. “Yeah, we’re really excited.” 
Madeline hugged her. “Oh you’re going to be a much better mom than I was.” 
That made Clarisse laugh and cry. “Yeah, well, in your defense, I kind of sucked.” 
Madeline pulled away from the hug and looked at Clarisse very seriously. “Anything you need. Money, advice, help, please don’t be afraid to ask.” 
Clarisse hugged her again, and said, “I would just really like you to be there, when the baby is born.”
“Of course I will be,” 
“And also maybe some money.” 
When Clarisse was pretty sure she was okay, they walked back out. Clarisse could see that Chris looked panicked, and he could see that she looked happy. They had a silent conversation, before Clarisse pointed at Katerina and asked, “Does she know?” 
“Yeah, does she know.” 
“Yup.”
“Congrats you two!” Madeline said, hugging Chris. When Katerina saw how happy Madeline, and Chris and Clarisse were, she started to come around to the idea. She still didn’t like them having a baby so young, but was happy that at least they were happy. 
“Oh your step father is going to freak out,” Madeline tells her. 
He does. When he gets back, Clarisse tells him right away, and he’s so happy he just pulls her into a big hug. 
At sixteen weeks they decide to find out the sex. Clarisse guessed correctly - it’s a girl. 
They decided to name the baby Katherine, a family name on Chris’s side (hence his mother’s name). Clarisse has to promise her mom that if they have another girl in the future, they will name her Madeline. 
They move out in March after Chris takes the Bar, into the new demigod-safe apartment building in Brooklyn. Survivors of any of the major wars are allowed to live there rent-free, which is a huge boost to their income. 
At five month, Phobos and Demos find out that she’s pregnant, and scare her by making her think she’s having a miscarriage. Thankfully, Will lived upstairs in their building and assured her that she wasn’t miscarrying. 
They realize, though, that they should tell their fathers, finally. No one from camp expect Will (and therefore, Nico) and Pollux, and Chiron knew about the baby. They didn’t want it to be big news, because they didn’t want unsolicited opinions about it. 
Ares is actually not angry because “One of the best things my daughters can do is have sons.” 
Clarisse lets him believe it’s a boy. 
In April, she interviews at Gode High School, not knowing that the principal who was interviewing her was Percy’s step father. That’s how Percy and Annabeth find out. 
She get’s the job though. And Chris passed the Bar, and got a job at the firm he was working for as an intern. So they were going to be okay financially. 
The night before Clarisse goes into labor, Travis has a dream about them, and realizes he hasn’t seen his brother in years. He and Connor decide to go visit them. They remember that they live in the new Brooklyn apartments (the two of them live in the Manhattan apartments). The satyr doorman to their building tells them what apartment they’re in. 
When they get there, Chris opens the door, looking pale. 
“I’m sorry, guys now isn’t a good time,” they hear Clarisse scream from the bedroom, “we’re about to take Clarisse to the hospital.” 
“Oh my god, is everything okay?” Connor asks. 
Chris decides it’s not time to get into all the baby stuff. “Hopefully it’s just appendicitis.” 
Will walks out of the bedroom then and tells Chris they need to get headed to the hospital. The brothers wish them luck, and once they’re gone, Chris and Clarisse head out. 
Madeline and Katerina had been in town for a few days already, they met them at the hospital. 
Clarisse is in L&D for 12 hours, but the baby’s head is titled to the side, so she’s coming out shoulder first with her head against the uterine wall. They try a number of different things, but ultimately decide that Clarisse is in too much pain and the baby is in too much distress, so they move to a C section. Decision to incision is about ten minutes, but the baby is born healthy. 
When they hear the baby crying for the first time both parents start sobbing, because they had been so worried something would go wrong. 
The next morning, Chris is down at hospital cafeteria to get Clarisse something decent to eat and runs into Travis and Connor. 
“We’ve been looking for you,” they have a big “get well soon” ballon in their hand. “We didn’t know where you guys were and the lady at the desk wouldn’t tell us. Is Clarisse okay?” 
They figure she must be, since Chris can’t stop smiling. 
“Yeah, she’s recovering right now. Do you wanna see her?” 
So he takes them up, and the elevators open on the maternity ward.
“Oh my gods, did you guys not know you were pregnant?” 
Chris laughed. “No, we knew. I just lied to you yesterday.” He took them over to the viewing window and pointed to Katherine. “That’s her,” 
“You guys had a baby?” Connor asks. 
“We had a baby.” 
Chris looks over, and Travis is scribbling something on the balloon in sharpie. He turns it around and the balloon reads “Get well baby soon”
They go into Clarisse’s room to say hi. After a few minutes of catching up on the whole story, the nurses bring Katherine in and Travis and Connor each get to hold her. 
When they leave, another nurse comes in and says that the grandfather’s were there to visit. Clarisse tore the little pink hat off of Katherine’s head and hid it under the blankets. Chris stepped in close to her and the baby, knowing Clarisse couldn’t fight, no matter how much she wanted to, less than 24 hours after having major surgery. 
The interaction with Hermes and Ares is harmless, generally, but it’s clear that both still think the baby is a boy. They refuse to let either god hold her, which makes Ares mad, but Hermes tries to keep him calm. 
“Whatever,” he finally concedes, “he’ll still be one of my strongest warriors.” 
That made Clarisse mad. “He’s my son, not yours. You don’t get to claim him.”
“Whatever, girl.” And with that, the two gods leave. 
When they’re gone, Clarisse holds Katherine close to her chest and whispers, “Baby girl, I promise I won’t ever let him hurt you.” 
From then on, “baby girl” sticks as Katherine’s nickname. 
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abybweisse · 3 years
Note
Hi!
To begin with, I wanted to thank you for this fantastic blog of yours, I LOVE it, your posts are always awesome (especially when it comes to Kuroshitsuji) and interesting, and your theories often echo mines! 🥰
Then, I recently read your post about the similarity between the Earl Cain series and Black Butler and so I saw that you (more or less) support the theory that Undertaker could be Cedric K. Ros-(?) who was Cloudia/Claudia's husband (and Vincent's father etc.).
I must confess that I was never really into this theory as I rather consider the reason Undertaker is so enamoured by the Phantomhives is because 50 years ago, he fell in love with Claudia (and perhaps she loved him back) but unable to save her from death, he became obsessed with reviving dead people.
But anyway, after reading your post I was pretty puzzled and searched around to see what things could point into the direction of "Undertaker is Vincent", but couldn't find anything particularly convincing. At some point even, the theory is supported because of some guy holding a bloody/dead Vincent-looking man in his arms (Volume 22, Chapter 105, page 11), however it was proven that these two people were actually Alan Humphries and Eric Slingby, two original shinigami that Yana-san created for the musical Kuroshitsuji: The most beautiful DEATH in the world and who became canon in the manga. So, my question finally 😅 is that I wanted to know YOUR points to support the Undertaker/Vincent theory.
Thank you very much for the answer, your blog (again!) and all the work you do for it every time! (And sorry for the long ask 😂)
Thank you. I’m glad you are enjoying my blog.
Please see my posts about Undertaker likely being Cedric. I’ve blogged about it countless times, including reblogs of others who provided good evidence to support it. Use the tags below to find the vast majority of those posts. You can also just use this link to the Tagging Masterpost and click the link for Undertaker’s identity. I strongly suggest that anyone who wants to ask me theory questions checks out that tagging masterpost. That’s why it’s also linked in my pinned post.
But I will address a few specific things you mentioned.
You think he might have fallen in love with Cloudia/Claudia 50 years prior to the current time? It’s 1889 now, so 50 years ago was 1839. She was born in 1830. Unless Undertaker turns out to be an unforgivable pedophile, he didn’t fall in love with a 9 year old girl. And she didn’t fall in love with some weird dude when she was 9. She didn’t have Vincent until she was 21, and she died in 1866 at the age of 36.
Besides, he tried to destroy the reaper organization’s HQ around 20 years earlier than 50 years ago, which would put that event at about 1819. And there’s reason to believe his initial experiments with corpses and cinematic records started around that time, roughly 70 years ago. He said it started out as mere curiosity about humans, life, and death. It wasn’t until the attack on Phantomhive Manor that he started making the really advanced “dolls”, like real Ciel, Polaris, etc.
I’ve never said Cedric was Cloudia/Claudia’s husband, in fact I’ve said several times that I don’t think she married. She was born into the Phantomhive family and was probably expected to keep that name, thanks to her watchdog duties. Perhaps Queen Victoria even hoped the Phantomhive name would die with her. But she had children by a man she probably never married. The children got her surname instead of their father’s. This continued the Phantomhive name and, if their father is more than human, perhaps these kids would be “stronger” (in some way) than the previous generations.
I don’t know why people get so confused looking at the Phantomhive family tree. It only shows the direct lines (so Frances isn’t shown there, even though we know she’s Vincent’s full sibling; Yana-san confirmed this in a tweet years ago). It doesn’t actually show who is married to whom, unless the married couple is also the biological parents of the children. It does, however, show who the biological parents are, even if they never married each other.
I’ve never heard or read anyone claiming that the reapers shown in ch105 were anyone other than Eric Slingby and Alan Humphries. At least not anyone being serious. So 😆! Of course that’s not Vincent. And there’s no rational Undertaker = Vincent theory. None.
Undertaker became a reaper a long time ago, probably a few (maybe even several) hundred years ago. Vincent was born in 1851 and died in 1885, at the age of 34. The reaper records of births and deaths are likely to be true. Which brings us to Cedric’s birth and death dates. There’s a darn good reason why we can see the days and months but not the years. The years are not even going to be in the 1800’s. Not if Cedric is Undertaker. My best guess, so far, is he died before 1366. He could have been a regular human as early as ~1200. 😊 (Please see the posts about Ivanhoe and Cedric of Rotherwood for why I think it could go back that far. And please see my posts about 136649 to see why I think he died before 1366.)
Sorry, but I have nothing to say about Undertaker being Vincent, other than that’s hogwash. They’ve even worked together and been in the same room together.
And I have every reason to believe that Undertaker is Cedric — Vincent’s and Frances’ biological father. My previous posts and reblogs on the subject should speak for themselves.
However, feel free to ask specific questions about those posts, if something isn’t clear. Sometimes it is clear in my head but doesn’t always come across that way.
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chibimyumi · 5 years
Note
Hi chibi, may I ask you a question about Ch151? I saw many theories conclude that Francis and Undertaker knew each other since Claudia's time. I wonder in japanese version if these two already say something canonically about it? I mean Undertaker may has been around Francis earlier, but Francis did she meet Undertaker at Vincent's time or when Claudia was still alive? Since many fans said that Francis knew Undertaker as her father, this made me so confused. Thank you!
Dear anon,
There is no explicit information whatsoever in the original manga, but there is some indication judging from the language Frances uses to the Undertaker.
Frances’ use of language in Japanese
In chapter 151 when Frances addresses the Undertaker, she says the following:
“葬儀屋、お前はお兄様がご存命の頃から変わらないな”
“Undertaker, omae wa oniisama ga gozonmei no koro kara kawaranai na”
“Undertaker, you haven’t changed since the time when my (honourable) brother was alive.”
The most noteworthy elements in her language are indicated in bold, and I shall expand on why these are important underneath. (It will be lengthy, but please bear with me.)
‘Oniisama’ and ‘Gozonmei’
Frances is a noble lady, and in the manga she uses formal language to people she considers her peer or above. Despite her clear dislike for her brother, she never fails to address him properly as ‘oniisama’, or ‘honourable brother’, even when she is yelling at him, or after his death.
“大体お兄様は昔からそうやって…”
“Daitai oniisama wa mukashi kara souyatte…”
“(Honourable) brother, you have always been like this from the past…”
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The ‘o’ and the ‘sama’ in ‘oniisama’ are honorifics in Japanese death trap, uh I mean polite language, ‘keigo’. Siblings normally don’t go beyond the expected politeness level of ‘oniichan/oneechan or niisan/neesan’.  Frances however, uses both of the highest honorifics ‘o’ and ‘sama’.
I do not think Frances uses this formality for Vincent because she really looks up to him. Rather, I think Frances uses this formal language because she is a respectable lady, and not using formal language when referring to her older brother would be considered ‘unrefined’ and be held against her. In the same way, the ‘go’ in ‘gozonmei’ (ご存命・alive) is also a hyper formality, and a marker of her grace as a lady.
In Japanese, language is an exceptionally telling method with which speakers express their identity. Among other things, a speaker’s formality or informality is considered a strong language marker with which they can present themselves. The infinitely varied language quirks and markers don’t all have a perfect equivalent in English, and therefore translation is very tricky. As such, a one-on-one translation from ‘oniisama’ to ‘honourable brother’ every time is just very unnatural, hence it is omitted in English.
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“葬儀屋、お前はお兄様がご存命の頃から変わらないな”
“Undertaker, omae wa oniisama ga gozonmei no koro kara kawaranai na”
“Undertaker, you haven’t changed since the time when my (honourable) brother was alive.”
In contrast to Frances’ hyper formality when speaking about her ‘honourable brother’, she uses informal language when talking about and to the Undertaker.
‘Omae’ (you (rude)), ‘Kawaranai na’ (haven’t changed) is informal speech. (Formal speech would have been ‘貴方’(anata) and ‘変わりませんね’ (Kawarimasen ne・have not changed).)
To me, this is an indication that Frances sees the Undertaker as below her rank. Frances using formal language for Vincent, while informal for Undertaker in the same sentence, is her implicitly differentiating the social hierarchy between Vincent and Undertaker. Consequently, I would say that Frances probably does NOT think that Undertaker is related to Claudia Phantomhive, because if she did believe so, Frances would most probably not have used this type of informal language.
Undertaker’s Language
Undertaker replies to Frances as follows:
“そうかい?小生にとってみれば君も生まれた頃がさっきのようだよ”
“Sou kai? Shousei ni totte mireba kimi mo umareta koro ga sakki no you da yo”
“Is that so? To me as well, it is as though you were born not very long ago.”
This line in Japanese is fairly standard and straighforward, and does not contain a lot linguistic hints. Undertaker merely seems to state that Frances did not change much either in his very, very old eyes. Rather than him dropping hints that he had met Frances at birth, I think it is more likely that he is playing it safe and not give Alexis Midford more reason to suspect the supernatural is involved. For more about R!Ciel hiding the involvement of the supernatural, click here.
There is no explicit information, but it is not impossible that Undertaker already met Frances during Claudia’s time when Frances was VERY young. But there is no information on whether Frances is actively aware of Undertaker’s presence during Claudia’s time. Frances’ and Undertaker’s interaction so far only indicates that there is no deep bond between them.
No indication of ulterior meaning
Japanese manga has a universal way to indicate when a spoken line contains an ulterior meaning.
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In Sebas’ text he says: “… Yes, I shall serve the young master well as his butler,” after Tanaka refers to O!Ciel by this title for the first time. The dots next to the word “bocchan/young master” mean to indicate that the word pronounced by Sebas contains an ulterior meaning. Now in retrospect we know “Ciel” is in fact not O!Ciel’s name, and that therefore Sebas is using the title to refer to his master to dodge his real name because he cannot lie.
In Undertaker’s text, he says: “Both ‘body’ and ‘memory’ hosted by the brain remain in this world.” These dots again tells the reader the speaker refers to not just any world, but specifically the human world (as opposed to the Reaper’s world.)
These dots however, do NOT appear in Undertaker’s speech bubble in chapter 151.
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Theory within the Japanese fandom
As I mentioned in another post, language shapes thought. As such, different theories may have emerged in the Japanese fandom. In the Japanese fandom, most people do not believe Undertaker is Frances’ and Vincent’s father, or Cedric K Ros.
Some arguments against Undertaker being the father as discussed in the Japanese fandom:
During the Boarding School Arc, Undertaker remained as fixated on O!Ciel as always, whereas he didn’t even bother batting an eye at Edward. Most of the Japanese fandom believe that Undertaker is only interested in the direct line of the Phantomhive family. Undertaker deliberately addressed Frances as ‘Lady Frances Phantomhive’, and this is considered a hint that his interest probably ends with her as a side-branch, and that this interest does not extend to her children. If Undertaker were Frances’ father, then this striking favouritism towards Vincent’s line would require some other explanation which is not in the manga canon (yet). As Yana has confirmed that Vincent and Frances are born of the same parents, this favouritism cannot be explained with “only Vincent is Undertaker’s child.”
Undertaker is a person who does not hide his emotions towards the Phantomhive tragedy very well. If just thinking about Vincent is enough to make him cry, then meeting Frances after such a long time would probably have stirred some emotions. This reunion would not necessarily be enough to make him cry, but the interaction with Frances would probably not have been as cheerful and aloof as in chapter 151.
During the Luxury Liner Arc too, Undertaker did not seem to care about the Midford family at all, despite clearly having had a lot of chance to reach out to them. Judging by Undertaker’s dodging skills as attested in the Boarding School Arc, he could easily have avoided O!Ciel and Sebastian during the first demonstration of the Aurora Society if he wanted to, but instead he chose to engage O!Ciel - ‘a main Phantomhive’. Yet again, we see a clear contrast between Undertaker’s interest in O!Ciel and the lack hereof for the Midfords.
Side-argument. Undertaker CAN’T be Cedric K. Ros: Undertaker is confirmed to have been a reaper for at least 70 years. 1889 - 70 = 1819. Claudia Phantomhive was born in 1830, which means that by the time she was born, Undertaker was already a reaper. In the family tree, Cedric K Ros was officially registered as her legal spouse. Had Claudia been a commoner, than marrying some random person that does not exist in the civilian personnel archive might have been possible. But considering how she was the Countess of Phantomhive, it would have been very troublesome to marry a man who does not officially exist.
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Arguments supporting Undertaker being the father in the Japanese fandom come in far lesser quantities, but a few popular ones are as follows:
Frances’ platinum blond-grey-ish hair resembling Undertaker’s silver hair.
Elisabeth and Edward both having green eyes. But as all reapers get green eyes the moment they become one, this theory does not hold water.
The lack of information about Undertaker and Cedric K Ros allowing for intersection between them. So far - whatever little canon information there is about Undertaker and Cedric respectively do not exclude each other.
Undertaker’s obsession with Claudia clearly being the strongest, and leaves enough room for people to ship them romantically, and therefore having produced children. Most fans who do believe Undertaker and Claudia were romantically involved however, tend to believe Undertaker was the lover of Claudia, and not her spouse.
In short, so far in the Japanese fandom, there are more arguments against Undertaker being Vincent and Frances’ father than for.
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amphibious-thing · 4 years
Text
When did Charles Adams live with Baron von Steuben?
As some of you may know, Charles Adams lived with Baron von Steuben for some time in the early 1790′s. I’ve been trying to trace where Charles Adams was living around this time and exactly when he moved in with the Baron. So let’s start in 1789 when Charles moved to New York City.
Charles graduated from Harvard in 1789 and moved in with his parents who were at this time living in the Richmond Hill mansion in Manhattan. On the 21 of July 1789, John Adams writes to Alexander Hamilton explaining that Charles wanted to study law at “some office in New York, and should give the Preference to you”. He proposes that Charles “may go into Town, and come out, with me every day, and attend your office, from between ten and Eleven, to between three and four.” Charles however did not study with Hamilton for long as Hamilton was not long after appointed Secretary of the Treasury, requiring Charles to move to John Laurence’s law office.
Due to the Residence Act the US government moved from New York to Philadelphia in late 1790, prompting John and Abigail Adams to move with it. At first they considered bringing Charles with them but ultimately decided it was better for him to continue his studies in New York. Charles moved in with his sister Abigail and her husband William S. Smith (yes the same William S. Smith who had lived with Steuben at the Louvre).
In January 1791 William S. Smith sailed to Europe, Abigail and Charles stayed in New York with Smith’s family. Smith returned to America in June but soon decided to return for a longer trip. Abigail, not wanting to spend such a long time away from her husband went with him. They sailed for Europe in March 1792. These circumstances left Charles looking for a place to live.
Steuben, who at this time was living at 32 Broadway, invited Charles to stay with him. At first Charles considered this a temporary situation and was looking to move into a boardinghouse. However when he mentioned his intentions to the Baron, he urged him to stay. Charles wrote to his mother on the 8th of October 1792 explaining:
I had intended to procure lodgings at some private boarding house, but when I mentioned to him my intention, he took me kindly by the hand “My dear Adams said he When your sister went from New York I invited you to come to my house, at least till you could find more convenient and pleasant Lodgings; I then had not the pleasure of a long acquaintance with you, but I was pleased that in our little society we could be of mutual advantage to each other, and that our improvements in the French language and in other branches of literature would render my table the seat of improvement and pleasure. I have since you have been here formed a very great and sincere friendship for you. You must now allow me the right of friendship; Indeed you must not leave me. What is it? Is there any thing you do not like? Is any thing inconvenient? I wish I could give you a better apartment, but the house will not aford it. I told him there was not a desire I could form but what was accomplished in his house; but that I did not think it proper that I should any longer take advantage of a kindness I had not a right to expect. And will you not then allow me to be any longer your friend and patron? You must not make such objections. It is not from any favor I can ever expect from your father. I am not rich, nor am I poor: and thank God I have enough to live well and comfortably upon; your being here does not make any difference in my expences. I love you, and will never consent that our little society should be broken, untill you give me more sufficient reasons for it.[”] To this affectionate and fatherly address, I could only reply that I would do any thing he wished and would not leave him if he was opposed to my doing so. My dear Mamma there is something in this man that is more than mortal.
Hercules Mulligan’s son, John W. Mulligan was around this time also living with Steuben. Keith Stern in his book Queers in History writes:
Prior to moving in with Steuben, young Mulligan had been living with Charles Adams (1770-1800), son of then-Vice President John Adams. The future president and his wife, concerned about the intense nature of the relationship, insisted that Adams and Mulligan split up. The anguished boys wrote to Steuben of their devastation at being separated. With compassion for the heartbroken couple, Steuben offered to take both young men into his home...
Unfortunately Queers in History does not cite it’s sources. I have not found any evidence that John Mulligan and Charles Adams lived together prior to moving in with Steuben. This however may be a mistake, as Stern seems to be under the impression they did not move in with Steuben until 1793. The boys had been living together in 1792, however it seems they were living together at Steuben’s place.
I have not been able to find any primary sources in relation to John and Abigail’s attempt to spilt up the boys. Queers in History states that the below letter from Steuben to Mulligan was in relation to this incident. However the timing is odd for this to be so as they were already living with Steuben when this letter was written.
Steuben to J. W. Mulligan:
Philadelphia, January 11, 1793.
Your letter of the 7th was handed me yesterday by Mr. Hamilton. In vain, my dear child, should I undertake to explain to you the sensation which the letter created in my heart. Neither have I the courage to attempt to arrest the tears you have so great reason to shed. For a heart so feeling as yours this was the severest of trials, and nothing but time can bring consolation under circumstances so afflicting.
Strength of mind in enfeebled by griefs of this nature; but, my friend, one ought not to suffer it to be entirely extinguished, for it is the duty of a sensible man to cherish the heavenly fire with which we are endowed by Providence.
Despite moral philosophy, I weep with you, and glory in the human weakness of mingling my tears with those of a friend I so tenderly love.
My dear Charles ought, ere this, to have received my answer to the touching letter he wrote.
I repeat my entreaties, to hasten your journey to Philadelphia as soon as your strength permits. My heart and my arms are open to receive you. In the midst of the attention and fêtes which they have the goodness to give me, I enjoy not a moment's tranquility until I hold you in my arms. Grant me this favor without delay, but divide your journey, that you may not be fatigued at the expense of your health.
O, if our friend could accompany you! Embrace him for me, with the same tender friendship I feel for you.
The request for Mulligan to “hasten your journey to Philadelphia as soon as your strength permits” is not a invitation to live with Steuben. Steuben was at this time living in NYC. He had taken a trip to Philadelphia and was asking Mulligan to join him there, which Mulligan did.
While it’s possible that the sad event to which this letter refers may have been, as Stern suggests, an attempt by the Adamses to split up Charles and John, the timing seems slightly off. It seem more likely to me that this is in reference to the death of John Mulligan’s sisters. In December 1792, shortly before the Baron had left for Philadelphia, two of Mulligan’s sisters had passed due to illness. Frances on the 24th and Mary a day latter on the 25th. Charles writes to his father on the 26th:
We have had a sorrowful house for sometime my poor friend Mulligan lost two of his sisters in one day by an epidemical fever which is raging with great violence in this City.
Sadly not long after on the 5th of January, 1793, a third sister Margaret also died. It seems likely this was the sad topic of Mulligan’s letter of the 7th, to which Steuben is responding.
Steuben returned from Philadelphia in late January, on the 31st Charles writes to his father:
The Baron returned on teusday his visit has been of service to him He said to me upon sitting down to supper that evening “I thank God my dear Charles that I am not a Great man and that I am once more permitted to set down at my little round table with Mulligan and yourself enjoy more real satisfaction than the pomp of this world can afford.”
Both John and Charles continued to live with the Baron for some time. Having passed the exam, Charles had opened a law office on the 20th of August, 1792 in Hanover square. But continued to live with Steuben at 32 Broadway. On the 10th of February, 1793 Abigail Adams wrote to Abigail Adams Smith informing her that Charles was “still with the Baron whom he speaks of with the sincerest affection and esteem.”
Around this time the Baron was living part of the time in New York City at 32 Broadway and part of the time at his farm “Steuben” in upstate New York. On the 10th of May Charles Adams writes to John Adams:
The Baron setts out tomorrow for Steuben I am sorry to loose his company for so long a period but he is almost as fond of his farm as you are and delights in the society of his Yankee’s as he calls them.
In 1794 the Baron decided to move to Steuben permanently. John Mulligan went with him but Charles who was working as a lawyer at this time stayed in New York City. He writes his father on the 9th of May, 1794:
My good friend the Baron is gone to his retreat where it is his intention to reside during the remainder of his life. I have removed to No 21 Little Queen Street where I have my office and a small bedroom I board at a Mrs Millars in Maiden Lane where I have my breakfast and dinner for fifty five pounds a year I pay fifty more for my rooms I am contented with my situation.
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napoleondidthat · 5 years
Note
Do you think that Marie Louise ever loved Napoleon? I'm reading Napoleon biography by Vicent Cronin and he suggest that she did, but them again, he tends to romanticize a lot... So your opinion on the matte would be apreciated. Regardless, he give us some convincing evidence, like on his banisment to elba, the letters that she send, and her thoughts on her personal diary really suggest that she wanted to be with him. (character limit wont let me post what she wrote here...) Love your blog! Thx
I read that biography years ago when I was in college. But from what I remember, it was a good biography. 
 My personal belief is that she did love him but with a rather immature sort of love. She was a sheltered girl, and really a child almost mentally when she married Napoleon. There's a lot wrapped up in their marriage. On one hand, it gave her the title of Empress of the French and the greatest position she ever held. On the other hand, it was the country that murdered her great-aunt. On one hand, Napoleon was a kind husband to her and treated her well. On the other hand, she was brought up hearing him referenced as an ogre. She did seem at first to genuinely not want to leave France and when Napoleon was exiled, she did write letters to him (and to her father) expressing her wishes to join him. However, she seems to be a very fickle sort of personality, or rather, if you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with. It wasn't long before Neipperg was assigned to her entourage that she was completely smitten with him and it was all "Napoleon who?"
 She did write to Napoleon while he was on Elba, however, the powers-that-be were working against her going, which Neipperg was enlisted to help convince her to not go, and her letters went often undelivered. This is the last letter she wrote to Napoleon when he was exiled on Elba, he never received it: 
 "My Darling, it seems a hundred years since I was last able to write to you, or received any letters from you, then suddenly my father produced your dear letter from November 20. I felt a great weight lifted from my heart when I heard that you were well and did not doubt all my love for you. I can imagine how troubled you must have been at not getting news of your son or of me for such a long time. I know just what it feels like, from the anxiety which fills my own heart when I'm left for months at a time without a single scrap of news from you and without knowing whether you are well. I hope this year will be a happier one for you. At least you'll be at peace in your island, and will live there happily for many, many years, to the joy of all who love you and who are, as I am, deeply devoted to you. 
 Your son sends you a kiss and begs me to wish you a happy New Year and to tell you he loves you with all his heart. He often talks about you, and is growing taller and stronger in the most astonishing fashion. He had been rather out of sorts this winter. I at once consulted Frank, who completely reassured me by saying they were only passing bouts of fever, indeed he recovered almost immediately. He's beginning to know Italian fairly well and is learning German too. My father is treating him with the greatest kindness and affection, he appears to love him devotedly and spends a great deal of time playing with him. He is heaping kindness upon me too, in fact all my family are treating me with utmost affection and going out of their way to make me forget all our misfortunes.
 Hardly a day passes without my going to see my father, who often asks whether I have heard from you. It is he who had undertaken to send this letter to Portoferraio with the help of the Grand Duke of Tuscany. If it reaches you safely, I do most earnestly beg you always to use this channel of communication. I'll take advantage of it too, then at least I'll know how you are. 
 My health is completely restored. The waters, the Swiss climate and the mountain air have had a really wonderful effect on it. I've put on a lot of weight and feel none the worse for the bitterly cold weather we've been having for some time now. I'm living an extremely secluded life at Schonbrunn, befitting my personal inclinations and my position so long as the allied sovereigns remain here. I hardly ever see more than 3 or 4 people in the evenings. We have a little music, or I chat by my fireside. Please remember me to Madame and Princess Pauline. Write to me soon. Once again I wish you a happy New Year and send you a loving kiss. 
 Louise.
 But earlier before this, Napoleon had tried to set up a ship (Inconstant) to be sent to Marie Louise to bring her to Elba, a secret plan. She got wind of it from the man who was sent to retrieve her. She thought about it, ended up confiding to Neipperg about the plan and Neipperg had the man immediately arrested.... 
"A few days later she wrote to her father, "Be assured that I am now less than ever desirous of undertaking that voyage [to Elba], and I give you my word of honor that I will never undertake it without asking your permission." Next she wrote to a friend about her husband's "thoughtless" and "self-centered" demands, saying that the idea of a daring "escapade" aboard Hurault's waiting ship was ludicrous. "Really, the Emperor is so casual, so unreliable," she wrote, complaining that the revelation of his failed plan could have... 
 "no influence on the Court in Vienna except to make them keep me away still longer from Parma. I shall give my ministers my most sacred word of honor that I shall not go to the island of Elba at the moment, that I shall never go (for you know better than anyone that I have no desire to do so.)." 
 (The Invisible Emperor, Mark Braude, page 132.)
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