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mean-scarlet-deceiver · 2 years

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Something I feel that we (the TTTE community) have not addressed enough is the fact that Vickerstown (the real life neighborhood in Barrow that Vicarstown is based on) was built mainly to support the workers at the Vickers Shipyard across the channel in Barrow, as Barrow proper did not have the room.

One can only presume that the Sodor's Vicarstown served much the same purpose once the strangely coincidentally named shipyard across the harbor was built.

The Vickers Shipyard, it should be noted, was and is the primary Shipyard for the Royal Navy, has produced nearly all of the British nuclear submarine fleet, multiple Royal Navy flagships, and literally hundreds of capital ships for navies around the world, including battleships.

Therefore, it stands to reason that each and every one of them was built, by hand, by People Who Live On The Island Of Sodor.

Yes! Agree 100%. Underrated connection.

The joint between Vickerstown (real life) and Vicarstown (fictional) is remarkably clean, if you ignore the name and the size of the islands they are on.

I think that's one reason I've gotten so stuck on this area of "RWS research" rather than moving onto other topics. Because the longer you look into this particular topic the smarter Wilbert Awdry and all of The Island of Sodor come out looking.

Barrow attracted workers from all over even before the days of Vickers Shipyard, so Sudrians were certainly among them, moving into the town or commuting there by ferry way back into the 19th century. This connection must go way back. (It is starting to make a little more sense for the island to be represented by the Cumbrian MP.)

The Walney/Jubilee Bridge was built in 1908 but it seems to have been strictly for road vehicles. I have not been able to find whether or not the tram system ran across the bridge but I doubt it. Anyway it in no way precludes the introduction of the bridge introducing a rail link in 1915.

That there was a settlement in Vicarstown dating back centuries I don't dispute, but I reckon this etymology is a bit... post-dated. Self-serving. I headcanon they usually knew it by a different name, until Vickers arrived and started buying up and developing land. At which point it became a national point of honour to insist that Vickers hadn't named the place—they had only appropriated Sudrian history!!1!:

(It may be noted that I am deliberately spelling it as Vickerstown right now in A Hole in the Net. Because it's from Nobby's point of view and he's every inch a Barrovian—he probably has no idea there even is a competing spelling/etymology. Certainly the FR would have spelled it that way.)

Anyway. After the arrival of 'Vickerstown' company-owned housing and development dominate the area, of course, and there is no doubt that Vickers was an economic, jobs-giving gold mine for all of east Sodor. But we also know that Sudrians are very touchy about their autonomy and I reckon there was some internal strain, some conflict between economic interest and national pride. There would also have been people residing in "the town" who were not Vickers employees, too, and they might have carried the flag of resistance to the idea of being subsumed into a Greater Barrow area.

Housing in Barrow during WWI was a huge problem. Westminster launched an investigation in 1917 (if I recall the year correctly) on the danger of a workers' revolution in Barrow—they were keeping an eye on several towns regarding this issue, but only for Barrow did they feel the need to take this step. The rent inflation was insane and by the midway point in the war temperatures ran high.

That's in real life. In the RWS timeline, a rail link to the rather commodious island of Sodor would have been a great relief to everyone. Ballahoo in particular is said in IoS to be a bedroom community for Barrow. (It's a bit far away—but presumably it had empty housing already built, which was the big bottleneck. Why would it have empty housing? This implies that the town had seen a decline in population... so there are interesting details that could be filled in there about the economic history around Ballahoo...)

Interestingly, Vickers had to lay off a lot of people in the years after Armistice. This coincides with the period where the FR (and the MR, of course) are basically telling the NWR "pay up or return our stuff please, you're on your own now." The fortunes of east Sodor and Barrow that were so linked in the first quarter of the 20th century would begin to deteriorate. (That wasn't true of Walney Island, but Walney Island is much smaller and doesn't have much going on besides Vickerstown. Sodor has a bigger population and lots of other ways to earn one's daily bread.)

Now, Vickers hung on very well and is still pounding out ships to this day, so I don't doubt your proposed headcanon that the industry (largely under military contract) remains a huge factor in Sodor-Vicarstown economy.

Island of Sodor downplays this because Rev. Awdry was a pacifist and has a demonstrated history of ignoring wars as much as possible.

But I'd go further and propose that in the RWS timeline there might have been a real possibility for Vicarstown to eclipse Barrow—there comes a point where Sodor's economy seems more diversified than Cumbria's.

I wonder if the NWR-LMS Agreement was partly predicated on fears of Sodor getting too big for its britches. They didn't care if Sodor had its own railway—the LMS did great business through Sodor, and if they didn't have to bear the costs of the rail system there then all the better—but perhaps it did want to try keep it somewhat irrelevant. The lack of a depot at Vic(k)e/arstown meant fewer non-Vickers jobs based in the town, protecting Vickers' hold on the town and also shifting population and workers back to Barrow (which was otherwise emptying out fast, now that the war was over). And then, of course, the LMS insisted on keeping control of the commute into Barrow via the Norramby trains. Presumably because otherwise the NWR could have held it hostage and fucked around with it to retaliate if relations ever soured with the LMS. Or just that the LMS had an interest in regular services for workers into the mainland, an interest that the NWR might not have been able to meet on its own motive power. Remember that the LMS was not the only one involved in this deal—Westminster required Grouping and they must have also agreed to wind up overlooking the NWR. It only requires one or two Cumbrian MPs who want to protect the interest of its mainland constituents at the expense of its island constituents for the NWR-LMS Agreement to start to make a lot of sense.

(This is in complete contradiction to what was said in the latest Awdry lecture about how Westminster ignored Sodor because it was just too dang poor but that "new canon" doesn't make sense to me. You can still exploit a poor region. That's kind of the whole point of imperialism. I prefer to think that was the official face-saving narrative but the reality was that Anything to Keep Sodor Dependent and Poor While Still Giving Us Our Imports and Workers was the goal. A somewhat missed goal. Because the Sudrians are bloody creative and ungovernable, that's why.)

Anyway despite the attempts to keep Vicarstown a strictly company town and in spite of the 1925 Agreement, I think Vicarstown went on to thrive after WWII. Shipbuilding was at its heart but it did not alone dictate the town's development. That's another story, but I accept wholeheartedly that at some point we can patch in the TVS timeline whereby Vicarstown again opens a depot. The shortest version of this history? Well, part of it had to be by Sodor capitalizing on its knowledge base. The entire eastern half of Sodor is by now dominated by shipbuilders and engineers, trained for generations by Vickers and Crovan's Gate respectively. A technical education in eastern Sodor has to be a hot commodity in itself!

#all right this went on a little long and zigzagged a couple of ways but i'm racing the clock and i don't have the patience to sit on this #i know damn well joe is gonna reblog this with an essay of his own about ships and i do not want to prolong the wait ;)#chatter #ttte #the railway series #ttte analysis #sodor lore #priorities on the island of sodor #(are completely Based)#'how come all the famous engines are on the western half of the railway?'#coz the eastern half is dominated by military contractors and that's not nearly so family-friendly?#this is a lot of words to say #that the passive-aggressive spelling war over this town must now be 125+ years old and i am absolutely here for it

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metal-gear-sayuri · 2 years

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So... with all this celebration of Shinzo Abe's assassination comes, well a lot. Like it's great that this fuck got what was coming. But firstly, it needs to be pointed out that the shooter had no qualms with him politically, so let's not celebrate that guy. Secondly, as many have already pointed out, this will just likely prop up the LDP which will absolutely lead to MORE discrimination and violence towards Korean and Chinese people living in Japan, as they are being directly blamed already by right wingers (not surprising). As a person of Ryukyuan descent, my heart absolutely goes out to those that are going to be affected by this in solidarity. Thirdly, given that the second point happens, this will obviously affect China and Korea, considering Abe's involvement with Nippon Kaigi and their ultimate goal of reviving the Japanese empire. It doesn't help that there's been incredibly sinophobic reactions made by westerners. Or American occupation of South Korea and Japan. In conclusion, fuck Japanese ultranationalists and imperialism, and show your unwavering support to those that are going to be negatively impacted by the events to follow, including but DEFINITELY not limited to the Chinese and Koreans.

#long post #i kept this rather simplistic and generalized #but i know theres so much more than just what ive said #i dont typically speak up about topics like this as i feel like i never know enough to make any accurate statements #but i generally identify as japanese while im really Okinawan #and anyone who knows WWII history knows the treatment of Okinawans was disgusting to say at the least #and then theres the general history of the ryukyu islands and how they were forcibly assimilated to Japan #i feel like i actually have a say in this a little bit #considering Okinawans are also treated as a lesser people to this day by japan #japanese politics #shinzo abe #politics #sinophobia #imperialism #south korea #china #eastern asia #sorry if i sound like an idiot

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magnetictapedatastorage · 2 years

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still absolutely insane over how long it took me to grasp what “this place used to be all potato fields in the 1980s” actually means on a social level. more than just the unintuitive idea that the forests are, in places, younger than the people living along the edges of them, the truth breaks apart the geographic and chronological aspects of slavery’s definition.

no fucking wonder there’s still redlining. no fucking wonder the police reject every black applicant. this place was and is a flytrap, labor camps, burning barracks still in freshly living memory for all except those that burned to death. as a child surrounded by fast-growing pine trees I heard “this place was potato fields in the 1980s” and had dim ideas of giant machinery with nobody there to run it.

the eastern farm workers association is still active and necessary today.

#dust for blood #long island #eastern farm workers association

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denkineptune · 2 years

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give me more gay woc in media NOW DO IT NOW

#we have to make sure little gay poc girls know it’s okay #and that there is SOMEWHERE to be accepted #i didn’t have that growing up and thankfully i’m fine #but for others it’s not always the case #so get me some sea and south asians and latinas and middle eastern and black girls and pacific islander #and get them here NOW!#and not just mixed w white please #i’m privileged bc i’m a hapa but beauty is not only found when someone is half white and fits part of a beauty standard #please some full black girls and full southeast asians and not just. zendaya #lee says shit #this went on a long time and i hope i articulated it right #i don’t want this to come off wrong but please #when making gay media don’t forget we are not all american stereotypically attractive white girls or flannel mascs #how do i say this better ugh

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aleximbuilders · 7 months

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We pride ourselves in upholding the highest standards of quality and integrity, consistently exceeding our clients' expectations. From start to finish, we are dedicated to delivering exceptional craftsmanship and unparalleled service. Your satisfaction is our top priority!

#Eastern long island builders #Custom home builders in east hampton #East hampton custom home builders #East hampton general contractor #East hampton custom builder #Builders in east hampton

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darksilvania · 4 months

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MOAICE [Moa + Moai +Ice] Ice The Moa Pokemon -Evolves from EISCUE with an Ice Stone Abilities: Ice Face Dex: "Its large ice head resembles ancient monoliths from a distant land, this mysterious connection is still being investigated by researchers. Despite its large size and having to carry its large ice head around, it moves remarkably fast thanks to its long and strong legs.” Moveset: -Glacial Wreck >Ice type / pwr 130 / acc 90 / pp 5 "The user tackles its opponent with its giant ice head, this causes its ice head to break” >This move can’t be used if the pokemon doesn’t have its ice head >This move may leave the opponent frozen -Icicle Crash -Ice Spinner -Snowscape

I had a dumb idea for an EISCUE evolution and had to see it through, this came to me when I was thinking "What would happen if we could sculpt the ice block on EISCUE's head into another shape and things just kept going from there

MOAICE, as the name suggests, its based on the Moa, an extinct giant flightless bird from New Zealand mixed with the Moai, the giant monolithic sculptures from Rapa Nui / Eastern Island

#pokemon #fakemon #fake pokemon #ice pokemon #ice fakemon #eiscue #ice type #fake evolution #moai #moai statue #moai head #moa

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fantasychica37 · 2 years

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Maybe Procedure 110-Montauk is just driving there

#scp foundation #scp 231 #long island #for those who don't know montauk is at the eastern tip of the island and to get to long island you have to drive crazy congested bridges in #nyc #because brooklyn and queens are on long island and the only way onto the island is ttthrough brooklyn or queens #so there is so much traffic it's awful #but then again i live in new jersey so i'm biased #should i send this theory to clef

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aspiring-house-husband · 1 month

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…oh. my god. this may be one of the longest things i’ve ever written. you want some sub/top regency kink a/b/o? you want some heat-fucking? you want some knotting? have i got a treat for you.

normally, a king would be proud to have all alpha sons. a sign of a strong bloodline, strong heirs. dominance and assurance in the future.

this king was not proud. he was scared. all three sons were alphas- his daughters, too. every child an alpha. what would normally be a strength was a curse, as it could not help him now.

there was a young king, butting up against their border. what had once thought to be a nuisance or even a weakness, their young king was new, inexperienced, unknown. but when the kingdom opposite this royal alpha’d family attempted to take advantage of the young and inexperienced king, their kingdom fell. the young king’s empire grew. as did his army, and his power. and his bloodlust.

he crushed a revolt, only a year later, from his conquested kingdom’s militia. he carved out pieces from his eastern and western borders. through every battle, every negotiation, every victory, he proved that his blade, tongue, and mind were equally sharp. he was accruing power at a rate that made long-standing reigns weary.

the kingdom he inherited by blood adored him. those kingdoms he conquered respected him. those kingdoms bordering him were terrified.

the alpha king, of an alpha queen, with five alpha children, desperately wanted to avoid war. an ally was preferred to an enemy, and he saw what happened to kingdoms who resisted. peace was preferred, and what better way than offering a spouse to the young king, preferably an omega to be controlled and toyed with, so that the kingdom could remain uncontrolled, untouched?

his youngest son, his sweet prince. an alpha, but the most likely to submit to a young but obviously alpha king. he was dressed in ceremonial cloth and jewels and taken to the young king. the prince was stunned by the beauty of the king… but not the ruggedness the prince expected. he was not a muscular and scarred military man with blood splattered across his chest, but instead a small man with legs crossed and his chin resting, bored, in his palm. soft hair framed a curious expression around bright, curious eyes.

“young alpha prince,” the king says, the corners of his lips only barely tugging into a smile, “welcome to my kingdom. welcome to my home.”

the prince kneels before the king and bows, touching his head to the floor, his robes pooled around him on the tiled floor as a great island of nobility. he stays as the king stands, graceful steps taking him to the prince.

“quite generous of your father, sending me a toy of such noble stature.” the king circles him, his gaze drinking in the prince. “stand.”

the prince does as ordered and raises his chin. he finds the king slightly shorter than him. “an alpha, i smell. tell me, are you afraid of me?”

the prince lets his gaze flick to the king, who still circles like a predator.

“majesty, i will regard you however it is you should require me to,” the prince responds, and the king finally smiles full and across his face, but his eyes are dark. he comes to stand in front of the prince, and lifts a hand to his face, but stops just short of touching.

“may i?” he asks, and the prince hesitates in surprise at the question before nodding. the king’s hand is warm as it slowly cups his face.

“have the prince shown to his quarters and dressed,” the king addresses his men without breaking eye contact with the prince. “return him to me once he is settled in.”

the prince marvels at his living space. it has high ceilings and double paned windows that face the western skies, a plush bed larger than the one he’d had at home, and a bath with working plumbing. the hearth was alive with warm fire when he arrived, and two servants awaited to help him dress and fetch him food. not even as the prince of his kingdom had he ever felt so taken care of, so privileged. only when his handmen showed him to his wardrobe did he feel again like a plaything. his closet was not befitting a prince- it suited a concubine. hardly covering cloth draped from metal chains and jewels, his dignity spared by only a few inches. he chose the outfit that covered the most of his skin, but even that wasn’t much, and what it hardly covered could still be seen through the fabric.

“do you know what the king wants of me?” he asked one of his handmaidens, and she shook her head.

“i’ve long stopped questioning his intention. he hasn’t lead us wrong yet. he did order, though, that robes be made available to you, if your decency was less than to your liking.” she opened yet another wardrobe, and the prince sighed in relief that he could at least drape a large fur cloak over himself before he was sent before the king.

he wasn’t led back to the throne room, as he had expected. instead he was taken to an office study, where the king sat hunched at the end of a long dark wood table over maps and other papers. he took a seat at the king’s left and dared not look at the scribblings, lest he be reprimanded for curiosity above his station.

“your father is a smart man.” the king breaks the silence. “even being so far from the throne, he would’ve prepared you, yes?”

“Yes, highness,” the prince responds.

“Perhaps you will notice something i haven’t. this river isn’t supposed to flood- it never did, during my mother’s reign. but it has thrice in mine, and i can’t work out why. each time it floods, it destroys homes, and i can’t have that any longer.”

the prince sits in stunned silence before he responds.

“you’re asking… my opinion, sire?”

“why wouldn’t i? a pretty face does not a lesser mind make.”

the prince can only be glad his complexion hides blushes before he leans in to study the maps.

the royals emerge hours later with flood plane maps and funding plans for village relocation drawn up. the king takes the hand of the prince and sends him back to his chambers, but not without first again holding his face.

“my pet, from now on,” he says, his smile unexpectedly fond, “sit at my right hand.”

the bed is too plush for the prince; he cannot stop his mind from wandering. the king was not at all what he had expected. not just small and soft, beautiful and graceful instead of rugged and rough, but also kind, generous. though the prince was rarely called anything but ‘toy’, ‘pet’, ‘gift’, he was treated like not only a royal but a confidant, an advisor. the touches that he had expected from his new king had never come, and those that did were only soft enough to make him desire more. and his plush pillows were no help, hugged into the curve of his frame and just the right plushness. it made him buck before falling asleep. made him grind as he woke. made him whimper through his dreams of serving the king as he once thought he would be required to.

“highness,” the prince begins one morning, over breakfast. “is there anything more i could be doing for you?”

“for me?” the king asks, setting down his utensils and locking his fingers together, resting his chin to his knuckles and his elbows to the table. “how so?”

“i am but to serve you,” says the prince, “it is my purpose, my life. if there would ever be anything more you need from me, you need only ask.”

he couldn’t be sure, but the prince swore he smelled an arousal spike, and for the first time it made him wonder at the king’s designation. all had assumed him an alpha, but not once had the prince smelled an alpha scent from him. until this moment, in fact, not a scent at all… his eyes drifted to the metal chains that wrapped his neck with links and leather. the prince has assumed these pieces armor, but maybe they were more. maybe they hid the king’s scent.

“you are servant to me,” echos the king, fondness in his voice and tugging at the end of his lips. “you believe so?”

“i am lost to it,” says the prince, wishing he could take back how his voice cracked. too many times recently had he been erect in the presence of the king, his only disguise being his fur cloaks. too many time had he woken up dripping with the idea of the king ordering him around, owning him the way he truly was owned.

“very well,” says the king, and he stands from his breakfast. “walk with me.” the prince gladly does so, half a pace behind the king.

“with honesty, i have been waiting,” he says, hands clasped at his back. “when i took you as my own, i wanted it to be of your choice. i couldn’t help but be impatient.”

the king’s chamber door opened into a small room first, empty but for light furniture. this is where the king turned to the prince, hopping up onto a table top to sit nearly the same height as the prince.

“touch me,” he says, his voice not even close to hard enough for it to be an order. the prince obeys nonetheless, his fingers rising up the king’s sides to tease his tunic over his head. still, the leather and link around the king’s neck remains. the prince moans with the skin revealed to him, and breathes out raggedly.

“you mustnt tell anyone,” the king says, and the prince blindly nods without knowing what he was meant to keep secret, far too focused on exploring the king with his hands and the way the king’s legs have latched into him and knocked the fur cloak from his body. he manages, though, to follow the king’s hands to the armor around his neck, and a few seconds later the armor falls to his lap.

the prince’s head spins. not only was the king’s scent entirely new to him, new and perfect, but it was omega scent. it was omega, and aroused, and strong, and so incredibly sweet smelling that it must’ve been crafted just for him. if he hadn’t been hard, he would’ve swelled to full size from the smell alone.

“don’t be dumbfounded,” the king says, “i know i’m an omega, but that’s why i’m so strong in battle, so people-“

“i don’t care,” says the prince, diving his face to the king’s neck and scooping the king by the legs into his arms, “i don’t care what people assume about you. you smell so good, highness, that i wouldn’t care if they all were watching us, right now.”

the king moaned and held onto the prince as he opened the door to the king’s bedroom. he had never seen it before, and now he could guess why- the scent of omega, aroused and needy, hung heavy in the air. the prince placed the king down in his bed, which now that he could see, he could tell was filled with pillows and blankets, woven into a perfect nest. still he did not leave the king’s neck, salivating over the scent that made his head spin. he lathered open-mouthed kisses along his neck, scraping his teeth over the omega’s scent gland and prompting a wanton moan straight from the prince’s dreams. the prince cursed under his breath and unthinkingly thrusted his hips, his thin clothing doing nothing to hide either his arousal or the sensation of grinding against the warmth of the king’s body.

“pet,” says the king, breathing ragged but hands still strong as he holds the prince away from him, just enough. “undress me, pet.” the prince didn’t nod, didn’t hesitate, just pushed the king onto his back and grabbed his waistband, lifting his hips as he yanked downward. he did it with ferocity, desperation, and hardly had the mind to hear the king’s chuckle over the sight he was greeted with. the king’s hole was nothing short of everything he’d dreamed of in every rut-fevered sleep, soft and wet and warm, so wet he was dripping. the scent was strong and still so sweet, tuned to his nose alone, like it was made for him. he kneeled before his king and held onto his thighs, sliding forward, but the king closed his legs and trapped the prince just beyond his knees.

“my king?” he asked, desperate eyes looking up at the king as his chest heaved. was this what catching an omega’s heat felt like? he had rut before, but this was different, like he was driven by something external and so ravenous that he could devour the king. but he didn’t smell heat, as he had before from his oldest brother’s wife. the sticky sweet smell wasn’t among the king’s scent, his beautiful dripping warm and wet and soft scent. this feeling was all his own, without heat, without rut. he was this pathetically desperate, all his own.

the king had sat up, and finally his hands pet through the prince’s hair, held his jaw.

“put your mouth to me, pet,” says the king, “your lips, your tongue. and don’t emerge until you’ve tasted my high and swallowed it. don’t come out of it until you’ve smeared yourself in my slick and no one will be able to even smell your breath without knowing i’ve been on your tongue.”

with an unprompted moan the king falls back down into his bed and opened his legs for the prince, who presses the king’s thighs further open and eats like a starving animal. he nearly cums through his clothes at the taste, his cock strained and weeping and impossibly, painfully hard. he does not spare a hand for himself, too focused on the king’s bucking hips, his loud moan whenever he sucked against the king’s cock, the way his moans cracked and whimpered when he dove his tongue deep. to his surprise, it doesn’t take long; the king clamps down around his tongue and bathes his face in the smells of satisfaction and warmth and arousal and most of all, need.

the prince feels like a wild animal rising from his kill, his face dripping and his breathing rough. the king looks upon him with pleasure, his breath hard, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“toy, love,” says the king, barely untangling his fingers from where they had gripped into his bedsheets, “i had planned to do a lot of walking tomorrow. force me to change my plans.”

the prince shivers and undresses himself quickly. the clothing he wore couldve easily been torn, or even pulled to the side, but he took the time to yank them from his body, catching sight of his own cock for the first time that morning. he was surprised to notice an angry, throbbing knot- he had rut?

his hesitation catches the attention of the king, who sits up enough to see the knot, and his moan is nothing but heavenly as he falls to the bed again.

“i’ll milk that best if you’ve had me twice more,” promises the king. “get me there, toy.”

thrusting into the king nearly had him over the edge, but he couldn’t swell his knot without being deep inside the king, without satisfying his orders. he had to control himself, had to fuck into the king’s sloppy, throbbing, hot and wet hole without losing himself to it, but it felt like a pointless battle. he was too far gone, the scent of omega burning in his nose and making his eyes half lid, his hips snapping into the king and pulling back only halfway before impacting with the king’s tightly wrapped legs before thrusting deep again.

he growled in dissatisfaction—not the right angle, not deep enough, not lewd enough moans from the king—and pulled out to flip the king onto his stomach, pulling his hips back, and thrusting in. the noise he pulled from his omega was high-pitched and filthy, and the prince’s gaze moves between the hungry and soaking wet hole that suckles against his knot with every thrust, and the blissful expression and soft, drooling lips of the king, pressed into his bedsheets.

he barely notices as the king gets tighter, and tighter, before he clamps down again and screams, his voice broken but loud, catching and announcing every shudder, pulse, tremble, twitch, broken with soft words the prince could barely hear, words as “toy,” and “love,” and “yes,” and “pet,” and, the worst of them all, the one that had him throbbing, “alpha.”

the prince pulls out to flip the king over again. he is pliant and panting, flushed down the front of his body and looking up at the prince with undisguised adoration, obsession, lust. the prince has to look away to focus; he wants nothing more than to be inside the king and satisfy him again, but he needs to make it better. the nest he had crawled into is well constructed, and he wouldn’t dare rip at the pillows built into walls, but there is one that doesn’t seem to be for either structure or for laying heads on, one that seems thick enough. he lifts the king and lays the pillow under his back, propping up his hips to the prince, splaying his thighs open to show the soaked and reddened, throbbing, abused hole. the prince has to break his own hypnosis to move his eyes away and back to the king.

he crawls up, cock hard beneath him, and for the first time kisses the king, their mouths dancing together, tongues tangling and teeth clacking. he sinks into the king’s hole like he belongs there, lined up perfectly and finding no resistance. the king moans into his mouth and his arms come up around the prince, nails latching to his back.

“knot me,” begs the king, his ankles locking behind the prince. “knot me full, take me, mark me deep.”

the words were pleas, not orders, but the prince obeys without question. he thrusts into the king with what feels like every ounce of power in his body, deep and fast and strong. his body is alight- every sensation his to memorize. the sting of his omega’s nails on his shoulder blades. the lustful moans just next to his ear. the near-stickiness as their bodies part before coming together again. the warmth of his omega’s body. the heavenly softness of his hole. every sensation, his, and too easy to burn into his mind forever. his omega begins to tighten, to whimper, his moans sliding higher pitched, and the prince keeps his same pace, desperate to please and to do as the king ordered. the king does not cum, yet, holds himself with tension in every muscle and teeth bared.

“knot me, alpha,” he whispers, eyes bright and hungry. “so deep your seed will never find its way back out.”

the prince drops his gaze to where they meet, his knot nestled against the king’s entrance, and he lifts himself so that he can hold onto the king’s hips. he stares at the fluttering muscle of the king’s body, trying to suck him deeper, trying to be one with him, and his mind swims. still, he pulls, strong and slowly pulling the king toward him as he pushes his hips closer. the king breathes shallow, unable to see where they meet and so watching the prince, pliant and soft and beautiful as the prince guides them together. he pulls with more strength, grits his teeth, pushes forward until they snap together, knocking the prince onto his elbows again, face inches away from the king’s, who looks lustful but bewildered, as though he has looked upon heaven for the first time.

“alpha,” he breathes, unfocused eyes finally moving to the prince. “my alpha.”

“my omega,” answers the prince, and he kisses him deeply.

he rocks his hips gently, unable to move the knot but just enough to pull the climax they had both been seconds from. it crashes over the king, who thrashes and screams, and washes over the prince, who collapses and spills. he can feel them throbbing in time, his omega’s hole milking him, pulling everything from him. they bask in it for an eternity, unable to move, unable to speak, hardly able to breathe. finally, the king touches his face again.

“my pet, from now on,” he says, his eyes unfocused and body still trembling, “sleep in my bed. never leave my side. never let me be without you.”

“i am servant to you,” the prince echoes the king’s words of hours ago. “i am whatever you require.”

“whatever i require?” the king repeats, his eyes lazing closed, blissful enough in his knotting and his alpha’s rut to fall asleep, still clamped around a knot and milking it gently. “you are mine.”

the prince no longer felt the need to wear his fur cloaks. whatever skin that the kingdom could see was marked with the king’s adoration, scratches and bites and hickeys decorating every bit of his body. he fetched the king breakfast and helped him dress, but equally undressed him around hallway corners and beneath banquet tables. he let the stuck-up old nobles turn up their noses at his hard cock trapped beneath only shear fabric, all thoughts of embarrassment wiped away by the soft touch of his king, squeezing him and reminding him of the privilege only he wields.

an alpha prince, servant to an omega king. a pet for pleasure and a lover. a toy.

#a/b/o #og #story #non monster #prince #public #heat

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prince-kallisto · 3 months

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STYX Experiment: Levan

I was in the middle of writing up a different-yet-related theory, before this came to mind! Many thanks to @hanafubukki, your messages fueled the ideas here 👀🫶💖🐦‍⬛

Regarding Levan’s disappearance, I think it’s easy to forget that soldiers repeatedly went missing at the East Fort, aka the fort that Levan was both in charge of and also disappeared as well. While we don’t know the details of where he actually disappeared, I think it’s suspicious that he was headed to the same spot where other Fae soldiers kept disappearing. Lilia was headed over there not only for Levan, but for the other soldiers too.

But why did these soldiers disappear? Why at the Eastern Fort? I admit that I can’t come up with concrete answers, but another line that’s been bothering me ever since Book 6 released, is that Fae don’t respond to the River Lethe the same way humans do.

Idia specifies this when planning to erase the memories of everyone on Sage’s Island, which included Fae like Malleus and Lilia. But apparently, they need different “dosages” adjusted for them regarding their memory. It’s quite fascinating how STYX was able to fine-tune this process, and learned how to keep the very specific and long memories of Fae, while also erasing others.

The time period of the Fae-Human war makes this tricky, but teleportation magic is established here. Book 6 also establishes how in the modern day, STYX can show up to any country, whether they asked for it or not. It’s not entirely impossible that STYX potentially could’ve done research near Briar Valley at some point, especially because there were so many human kingdoms around at the time allied against Briar Valley.

It’s also interesting that we never get a confirmation of Levan dying or not- something that Lilia was able to sense with Meleanor’s magic disappearing. He just simply disappeared, without any traces of his magic for Lilia to track down.

Now that I’ve brought up all these seemingly unrelated points, let’s try and put them together! With all this information, was Levan and his fellow soldiers kidnapped by STYX, or by a human kingdom that was allied with STYX at the time? 🤔

With Levan, I think of Diaval from the Maleficent live action movie. Diaval was a raven captured by a HUMAN hunter, and was forcibly transformed into a human to be saved. Maleficent could also change him into different forms like a wolf or a dragon- all species that he wasn’t meant to be. Essentially like an “experiment.” In the TWST story, with Styx making its sudden appearance that deviated greatly from Hercules, could Diaval’s transformations be referenced in TWST through Levan being an experiment?

If Levan was kidnapped by Styx to be an experiment, it makes sense why Lilia couldn’t find him despite traveling the world. The Isle of Woe is practically untraceable unless you have a rare Unique Magic like Rook does! It’s underwater, so of course people who lack inside knowledge wouldn’t know about it, no matter how much they travel the world.

And if Levan was an experiment, he would be the perfect “candidate” for the River Lethe dosages. Levan was a presumably powerful Fae, as it’s rumored he fought against the Knight of Dawn and survived. It is why Styx and Idia were so confident in using the River Lethe even against a powerful Fae like Malleus- they’ve done it before and so many times that they were able to fine-tune to a near perfect degree.

Styx also shows how they developed technology similar to Riddle’s “Off with Your Head,” and can seal a person’s magic. Perhaps Lilia could no longer trace Levan’s magic because it was sealed off at some point in time when this technology was developed as well 🤔

Fae in general seem like perfect subjects, with their capacity for magic (and thus blot) and their long life spans. Even if the lead researchers of the Shroud family passed away, Fae could technically be subjects for generations. In Idia’s life time, they seem to be rather lax and generally gracious with their subjects compared to how they could’ve been- although the invasions and electrocutions are admittedly quite bad haha. But again, at some point in time in the early stages of Styx development, there must have been unfortunate subjects for Styx to figure out the River Lethe, their magic sealing collars, their blot tools, everything. Throughout human history, scientific progress has repeatedly been made often through the suffering of others.

And at the time of the Fae-Human war, Fae were considered *monsters.* Monsters like Grim or Phantoms- the exactly sort of creatures that Styx had. Even the subject that killed the human Ortho was described as a “monster,” not a Phantom (there’s theories floating around that this monster was Grim 👀). Henrick also brought up his plans to essentially enslave Malleus before he even hatched- to use his dragon form as “his steed.”

So I wouldn’t be surprised that there was a time where Styx shared similar views, and thus kidnapped and conducted experiments on Fae as if they were as “expendable” as monsters 🤔 Even if Styx in the modern day has changed greatly, the damage that previous generations created cannot be undone.

I’d also like to say that Levan was similarly considered to be Meleanor’s “eyes and limbs,” much like how Diaval was Maleficent’s wings. Maleficent’s wings were trapped in a cage, still alive, but trapped. Perhaps the ideas of Diaval being captured by a human hunter and Maleficent’s wings being trapped in a cage were combined for TWST as clues to what happened to Levan? 👀

Tampered memories, blot…ANSJJSZ I have tried my hardest to not bring up Crowley, but I find his relationship with Styx to be fascinating 🫣 But I’ll save that and the details regarding blot for a future post, because I mostly just wanted to talk about the potential backstory for Levan in this one \(//∇//)\ What are your thoughts on what happened to Levan and even the other soldiers who disappeared? 🤔

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst theory #twst Styx #twst shroud family #twst levan #Twst revan #kallistopost #twst book 7 spoilers #twst analysis

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gemsofgreece · 8 days

Photo

The Parthenon marbles this, the Parthenon marbles that...

I don´t know how known the extent of Greek antiquity looting by West Europeans is to most people or most have a limited image painting the British Museum or Lord Elgin as the sole / main villain.

Here we have the Piraeus Lion (Italian: Leone del Pireo) , one of the four lions decorating the Venetian arsenal in Italy. The prominence of the 3 meter tall lion statue in the port is such that it is also known as Porto Leone ("Lion Port").

We are eternally thankful for the massive courtesy of calling the statue the Piraeus Lion, indicating its origin from Piraeus, the port city of Athens. The statue was sculpted around 360 BC and remained a famous landmark of Piraeus, Athens until 1687.

In 1687, it was looted by Venetian naval commander Francesco Morosini, the man also notoriously responsible for the bombardment of the Parthenon during the wars of the Venetians with the Ottoman Turks, therefore in fact the most irreversible destruction it suffered in its 2,500 year long history. Somehow they were fighting the Turks but it was the Greeks paying for it.

Is it totally and universally acknowledged that Morosini illegally looted this sculpture among so many others? Yes. Does the Piraeus Lion still sit casually in the Venetian port in 2024 as if Venice has a shortage of artefacts to decorate itself with? Also yes. Meanwhile, the Greeks have to limit themselves to a replica in the Piraeus Archaeological Museum.

The Horses of Saint Mark in Venice are also Greek artefacts, this time looted from Constantinople during the crusades, although their original display was in Chios island. Another thing little known is how many ancient and medieval Greek artefacts were looted from the Eastern Roman / Byzantine Empire because people tend to focus on classical antiquities looted in the 19th century.

[Fun fact: The Piraeus Lion has runic inscriptions carved by Swedes in the 11th century. These were either Viking explorers or Varangian mercenaries of the Byzantine Empire.]

#greece #europe #greek culture #ancient greece #western appropriation #crusades #antiquity looting #ancient greek statues #piraeus lion #venice

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onegirlatelier · 2 days

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April, 2024 | Shetland lace shawl

Hi there! It’s been a while. I’ve been kept busy by all my university work…and this shawl.

The shawl is knitted to celebrate the wedding of my friend (now friends, I should say). A wedding is really the perfect excuse for all the heritage crafts and heirloom projects that might seem too serious to gift in other occasions. I did ask the recipient beforehand if she would like it, though, and I was so, so honoured that I got an enthusiastic ‘yes’. I’m sure this sentiment is shared by many makers, whatever gift they are making.

Shetland fine openwork, a knitted lace, seems to have emerged with the beginning of the reign of Queen Victoria, who championed and popularised the craft. It was probably spread from the Isle of Unst to other parts of Shetland. What surprised me the most when I first read about it was that Shetland shawls and other lace pieces were largely exported as luxury items and rarely worn by islanders themselves. Women bought yarn from spinners and knitted mostly in their homes. They then took them to local merchants and exchange the finished objects for goods or (commonly after the 1880s) money to supplement the household income. The ‘supplement’ nature of this work probably means it was not compensated as much as a job outside the home would be for the same hours and skills. Besides, it was not always easy to spin an even 1-ply yarn at 1600 metres per 100 grams. For a piece of knitting with a large ‘plain’ area (i.e. only knit stitches), the unevenness was impossible to hide but could only be discovered after the area was worked. Then the maker had to either frog (unravel) the area or continue with the risk of the whole piece not being able to sell.

Whilst it is very reasonable to point out that Shetland ladies did not usually wear this type of lace (I’ve been to the Scottish Highlands once, in summer, and it was not fine lace weather), I imagine that at least for some, it wasn’t just about making money. Some sort of fulfilment must have been from the satisfaction of having a piece ‘properly done’ by continuing and adapting a traditional pattern, technique or material. I think this sort of satisfaction is also why many modern knitters are willing to spend hundreds of hours on lacework.

Intricate handknitted lace items can still be bought today (a quick search on Etsy would show many are form eastern European countries with a long and prominent craft tradition), but many are knitted for friends or family members. It always makes me so happy to see people share the gifts they have made, whether big or small, simple or complex. I joke with my online craft friends that no handmade fibre project can claim to be so unless they have a hair or two woven into it. It is the proof of existence for the maker, who tries to go against the irregular nature of handicrafts and, at the same time, accepts it. It is about wrapping up hours, weeks or months in one’s life, along with the songs they have listened to and the perfume they have worn and the memories they have made, and putting it squarely in someone else’s hands and saying: ‘All this, for you.’

A Wedding Shawl

I have not read anything about there being a standard form of ‘wedding shawl’ in the Shetland tradition. However, there is definitely a category of square shawls with similar sizes and a few construction methods. The samples I’ve seen mostly measure 1.5-2m on one side and have three parts: a central panel, four borders and a strip of edging. It is worked flat in garter lace from centre out.

Neither is there a standardised yarn weight. A widely available yarn is the Shetland Supreme Lace Weight 1-ply by Jamieson and Smith, which weighs at 400m/25g. The Queen Ring Shawl examined by Sharon Miller used a yarn at 700m/25g. From my experience, if you want the shawl to be a true ring shawl (i.e. you want to be able to pull the shawl through a ring) at the size of the Queen Ring Shawl (210cm on the side), go for 700m/25g or finer.

I chose a rectangular shawl because I had very limited time, but I did enlarge it because for me, an abundance of fabric does mean an abundance of cozy happiness.

Pattern

Shell Grid and Spider Webs Puzzle, pattern No.19 in the book Shetland Knitting Lace by Toshiyuki Shimada.

The names of the motifs are confusing. One motif (or two highly similar motifs) might just have two different names if they are produced in two different regions. Names do not mean everything, but I’ve had fun trying to match the motifs with names according to this article by Carol Christiansen at the Shetland Museum.

The double yarnovers (YO’s) in the diamonds were called Cat’s Eye, but perhaps the ’Spider Web’ in the pattern name is referring to the three rows of double YO’s in the centre panel. It has a really simple but effected edging.

Yarn

Mermaid Lace, in colourway #naturel, sold by Great British Wool in the Netherlands. This yarn is 75% merino and 25% sea algae silk. ‘Sea algae silk’ seems to be a semi-synthetic plant fibre like viscose, with algae involved as part of the raw material. (At this price point I don’t think it has anything to do with sea silk, which is fibre produced by actual shells.) The brand name for the most popular product of its type is probably Seacell.

I bought the yarn, because I had never worked with this fibre before and was curious. What I like: it was a little cheaper than a wool/silk blend and has blocked very well. The whole skein was continuous so I didn’t have to deal with a single yarn joint. What I do not like: it lacks the sheen and smoothness of real silk and doesn’t feel as strong, although it doesn’t shed. In conclusion, I’d rather use a traditional Shetland 1-ply or another natural fibre yarn.

It's also worth mentioning that whilst I prefer to support small businesses, it was disappointing to have received a 93-gram skein when I had ordered 100 grams. It was one of those days between Christmas and the New Year and I somehow did not contact the customer service, but I really should have.

Needle

2.5mm 80cm circular needles. See modification below.

Modification

This Japanese knitting book follows Japanese sizing for knitting needles. The suggested size was no. 1=2.4mm. I figured that I could use a 2.5mm since I knitted on the tighter side, and in any case it was probably okay to make the lacework a little more open by going up a needle size.

I am not going to give out the pattern, but it is probably necessary to explain the structure of this shawl. The centre is knitted first, and then an edging is knitted onto it by picking up either live stitches or the vertical edge of the centre as you go (see schematic below). The four ‘corners’ of the edging have short-row shaping to help it lay flat. I know that traditionally people can achieve this by other methods, but I haven’t tried any of those yet.

I enlarged the pattern by increasing both the width and the length. I casted on 133 stitches instead of 101 for the centre panel and knitted Part B 8.5 times instead of 5.5. The spider web pattern in Part B requires the stitch count to be (something dividable by four) plus two, so I made one central increase before the spider web to get 134 and a central decrease after it to get it back to 133. Due to the openness of the lace, the change of one stitch is not visible.

The enlargement meant I had to recalculate the edging as well, because the number of stitches available for pick-up changed. Originally, at each corner you do two repeats with four short-row shaping each. I did 1.5 repeats following the original placement of short-row shaping in order to make the total number of repeats fit the number of edge stitches on the centre panel.

The pattern says to Kitchener-stitch the last row of the edging to the provisional cast-on. It just didn’t make sense because that would be two rows too much (the Kitchener stitch row plus the provisional cast-on row). To make the number perfectly fit, I knitted only ten rows of the last repeat (there were usually twelve in each repeat). Then I Kitchener-stitched the end to the provisional cast-on, following the lace pattern. I am quite proud of this solution because it is completely invisible.

Somewhere in the pattern it said to purl (looking from the right side). It seemed strange because the rest of the lace was entirely garter. I knitted those stitches and so far I haven’t sensed a ‘mistake’.

The pattern originally calls for 45 grams of yarn. I estimated (based on the increase of stitches in the centre panel) to need about 80 grams. I ended up using 86 grams. Besides the inaccuracies in my estimation, it was probably also because I knitted much more loosely than expected as it was difficult to tension the yarn tightly at such a weight. Like I’ve point out in the Yarn section above, I was lucky not to have needed more than 93 grams.

The original finished size is 53*118cm. I ended up with approximately 70*170cm.

Conclusion

This shawl took about three months of my craft time i.e. one full day every week for three months and many mornings before I had to leave for university. Knitting outside my room just didn’t work because I was a) engaged in some other activities that made it difficult to steady my hands, and b) worried about putting a white shawl on any public surface.

The pattern itself is relatively straightforward. The first difficulty was, of course, to understand the instruction written in Japanese. Google translate was horrible so I had to rely on my knitting experience. Fortunately, much of the text description was also found in graphs and charts. Then I had to get my hands used to the tiny yarn. After that, it was only fiddly when I did the edging, because I had to turn about every twelve stitches, and by that time I was handling a giant cloud of stitches on my lap. It did give me a lot of time to go over my favourite documentaries and films, and the last bit of edging was surprisingly quick!

Traditionally, Shetland shawls could be sent back to the maker for maintenance. I think it only fair for me to offer that too because I don’t want a gift to become a trouble (same as how you do not use non-machine-washable yarn for baby knits).

In general, I am very pleased with this shawl. It does pass the ring test, despite not being a traditional wedding shawl size or thickness. I do have a whole lot of actual Shetland 1-ply in my stash, so I am really looking forward to taking my Queen Ring Shawl project out of hibernation in the near future.

Reference list for Introduction

Christiansen, Carol. Shetland fine lace knitting: Recreating patterns from the past. Marlborough: Crowood, 2024.

Mann, Joanna. 'Knitting the Archive: Shetland Lace and Ecologies of Skilled Practice'. Cultural Geographies 25, no. 1 (January 28, 2017): 91–106. https://doi.org/10.1177/1474474016688911.

#knitting #knitblr #shetland lace #lace knitting #gift-knitting #stories

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