#woman in a novel from the 1800s: picks up a book

[rosepompadour]

She was dreadfully romantic. She read too many novels and carried her ideal world wherever she went.

- Mary Elizabeth Braddon, The Doctor’s Wife (1864)

#woman in a novel from the 1800s: picks up a book #400 pages later: dead by her own hand or drowned under mysterious circumstances #the doctor's wife #mary elizabeth braddon #literature

[seriously-mike]

History Was Written by the Victorians

or: How Our Image of the Middle Ages Is (Mostly) Bullshit

Close your eyes and imagine a medieval executioner. Without effort, I can tell you imagined someone more or less like this:

Man in a red or black face-covering hood. Most probably fat and shirtless, or wearing some kind of black tunic or apron. Wielding a big-ass axe. Tell ya what, it's bullshit.

This post was supposed to explain how that image came from one Jan Mydlář, a Czech executioner from 17th century, but that claim, stated by one Czech website and repeated on Wikipedia with no actual verification, is also bullshit. And rather obvious one, because Mydlář is famous for executing 27 Czech nobles in the aftermath of the Battle of Bila Hora in 1621 - an event presented in several illustrations, and in none of the contemporary ones the headsman is wearing anything resembling a hood. Better yet, most supposed facts about Mydlář's life come from four novels written by Czech novelist Josef Svátek and published between 1886 and 1889 - even the Czech Wikipedia notes the difficulty in telling fact and fiction apart in them, which kinda proves my point.

I recently mocked the modern historiography as tainted by fanciful 19th century interpretations and outright fabrications, saying that the history was written by the Victorians, and the entire imagery of a hooded executioner is such a fabrication. Along with the supposed torture implement called the Iron Maiden, by the way. So how did the actual executioners dress over the ages? I do recall a post by someone on Tumblr with "history" and "POC" in the username that I can't find right now, and there's also a thread on Quora that answers "Why did medieval executioners wear hoods?" with a long explanation that begins with a paraphrase of "LOL no, they didn't", but let's have a go at it one more time. Particularly that there will be pictures. Yay.

Let's start with this 14th century miniature from Les Chroniques de Froissart, that I picked on purpose: in this one the executioner is wearing a hat that isn't red (by some odd coincidence, three other illustrations from the same book depict executioners as wearing red or brown hats, but still, no hoods in sight). No rule about clothing either - also on purpose, I didn't pick the image where the executioner is wearing a black shirt and grey hose either. Iconography from other sources also has executioners wear all kinds of rainbow pimp gear including slitted shirts and pants not unlike the Landsknechts (and I do remember that the Tumblr post I can't find now also contained several of those images).

This one comes from 19th century, sure, but is supposed to depict the clothing of the Cologne judiciary of 16th century. Now, pick the executioner out of the lineup.

Nope. Not the guy on the right, that one is just a herald. The executioner is the guy in brown coat and red pants. Which also lines up with the contemporary depictions.

Next up, we have a name: Franz Schmidt, the executioner of Nuremberg who worked in the late 16th and early 17th century, shown here beheading a woman for "harlotry and lewdness". In both this illustration and the better-known sketch that shows up if you google "Franz Schmidt executioner", he's wearing fairly spiffy clothing like this blue and gold number or all frills everything in the sketch, and someone quotes books by historians Anna Sunden and Ulinka Rublack that an executioner was allowed to take his victims' clothes unless expressly forbidden (for example, the city council of Augsburg forbade the executioner from taking the clothes of an infamously flamboyant guildmaster he executed).

Even closer to the Victorian age, the executioners still had no intention of wearing hoods, like this illustration that I already made fun of. According to @bizarrepotpourri's research, this is the official executioner of Wrocław, one master Thienel, performing his first job in 1800, which gives me even more ridiculous ideas for a caption, again stemming from the guy on the left tipping his hat. But still - no mask, no hood, not even a hat or a coat.

Similarly, this illustration that @petermorwood brought to my attention depicts the 1820 beheading of Karl Ludwig Sand, a student who assassinated writer and diplomat August von Kotzebue. No hood at all, again.

If anything, the only hint is this display of the gear of Giovanni Battista Bugatti, the Executioner of the Papal States - we have a white hooded robe that would not be out of place in the American South and a red one along with an axe. Curiously, contemporary depictions of Bugatti show him in ordinary work clothes and I wouldn't be surprised if the white robe was intended for some kind of processions or didn't belong to Bugatti at all - it turns out that the confraternity of penitents of the Santa Lucia di Gonfalone in Rome who were tasked with burying the dead back in the day do wear white hooded robes like this, and where an executioner works, there are always enough bodies to bury.

This piece by our national artist Jan Matejko, famous for his portraits of the kings of Poland and the absolutely fuckhuge epic painting of the battle of Grunwald, looks like video game concept art, and of The Settlers slash city builder kind. From left to right, we have two builders, a butcher peeking out from behind an executioner, a senior city guard, two city guards carrying polearms and two trumpeters of which one is wearing armor for some unspecified reason. Okay, so the executioner is wearing a gugel and a cloak, all red everything, but much like the more faithful illustration of the officials of Cologne above, still no mask.

And then, we have this drawing from the June 25th, 1864 issue of the British magazine Once a Week, depicting the execution of King Charles I. Forty years from the last example and what the fuck is this? The guy is wearing an unbelted tunic and some weird-ass handkerchief with holes for eyes that just floats in front of his face. What.

And that's not even the weirdest take of the era. Look at this 1840 colored engraving by caricaturist George Cruikshank, depicting the execution of Lady Jane Grey. WHAT IN THE FUCK. The headsman looks like Dr Neo Cortex in a gas mask and even if we blame it on a bad photocopy, the lighter black-and-white version you can also find online is even worse, because with more details revealed, he's apparently wearing blackface.

"Artistic invention" continues in those two images from cigarette cards - on the left we have a 1887 card from the US, and on the right a 1925 British one based on the costume from Gilbert & Sullivan's Yeomen of the Guard, which kinda absolves the artist as stage costumes tend to be ridiculous like this. On one side, we have a domino mask, on the other a stiff black mask of some kind, both still remaining in separation from reality because it wasn't working out.

You might find similar masks to the one on the right on the internet, either displayed in museums or being sold as former museum exhibits, but curiously they never show up in contemporary art, and neither do some of the more curious torture implements. It's like the Victorian historians and artists misinterpreted old stuff they found, had no clue what it even was (much like the Roman glove knitting helpers) or pretended to have no clue because stating the actual purpose outright was considered indecent (imagine all the well-worn dildos throughout history). This head-up-the-ass tendency continues to this day, as Peter Morwood's post points out in an example of an executioner's sword being described on an American museum's website with several incorrect assumptions, the worst being a claim that it must have been ceremonial because it's pretty - engravings, gilded hilt and pommel, the works. Well, shit. There are tens of extant executioner's swords photographed and most of them are engraved with fairly typical phrases and execution-related iconography, a lot also have gilded or silvered hilts and/or pommels, and museum curators don't usually discount that as "proof" that the swords in question weren't used.

#Mike's Musings #history #execution #fashion #research #executioner #TLDR #long reads #long post #LONGPOST IS LOOONG #history was written by the Victorians

[a-skirmish-of-wit-and-lit]

Book Review: Lone Women by Victor LaValle

Lone Women is unusual, unsettling, and haunting. It's a genre-bending story about a Black woman named Adelaide Henry who leaves her home in California in the 1800's to settle on a claim in the desolate landscape of Montana, carrying with her a past full of secrets and a steamer trunk that cannot be left unattended for suspicious reasons unknown.

This is an atmospheric novel above all else, and I've never read anything quite like it. It's hushed. Suspenseful. Eerie. Vacant. There's a lingering sense of disquiet that permeates from the first page, ushering readers into Adelaide's world at a time when homesteading was starting to take off and women could set out west to make new independent lives for themselves.

I liked the historicism this provided, with me being bestowed with the opportunity to journey along with Adelaide as she braved the harsh conditions of the midwest alone and as she collided with some strange folks along the way. I also liked the women supporting women camaraderie that was both founded and championed, because it proved to be a satisfying foil to the secluded, dangerous-feeling atmosphere the characters abided in.

For me, though, I will say the most propulsive thing about the whole book was waiting to learn what was hidden inside the trunk. That's what gave the story its pulse. That's what gave it a creepy and windswept little heartbeat.

Definitely one you should pick up if you're looking for something different!

Many thanks to NetGalley and Random House for the ARC in exchange for my review.

3/5 stars

**Follow me on Goodreads

#ashlee bree's book reviews #victor lavalle #arcs #historical fiction #horror #mystery #thriller #suspense #recs: ashlee approved! #read march 2023 #coming march 2023 #bookblr #booklr #book reviews

[amarrymeinbostonwriter]

A Grad Student’s Notes on The Well of Loneliness (1 of ?)

I started (technically re-reading) Radclyffe Hall’s The Well of Loneliness, the banned British Lesbian classic from 1928. I read this book once ten years ago but man, I must have been sleeping or something then because wow this slaps very hard (and I’m not even on page 50 yet). 

So far, Hall writes more like a Victorian writer than someone like Woolf or Joyce who both more closely embody modernism (the three were contemporaries which is why I compare them). 

Her heroine Stephen Gordon is said to be very close to Hall herself. She was also a rich couple’s only child and was attracted to women. The historic term which she used to describe herself was “invert” which was based on German sexology in the late 1800s and early 1900s; male inverts were thought to have female souls and female inverts were thought to have male souls. Hall’s novel featured a main character who was a female invert, like she herself was. Likely Hall would either be a butch lesbian or trans today (we can’t say which because she lived before there was a clear delineation between those two identities; the two communities have been extremely close historically). 

Stephen’s relationships to her parents and her first crush on one of the young maids is detailed in this section of the book. She’s closer to her father than her mother. She idolizes both her parents who don’t really seem to know what to do with her. She’s protective of her hyperfeminine mother and tries to copy her father and the stable master whom she comes to trust as a good friend. 

Her father is also shown secretly studying a German theory of sexology book late at night (Ulrichs) because he thinks his daughter is an invert. Hall did eventually go study in Germany as a young woman so that’s probably where she learned about these theories herself. Weimar Germany had surprisingly progressive attitudes towards LGBT people and had one of the biggest gay and trans communities in Europe in the 1910s and 1920s. Hall went there in the early 1910s before WWI and that’s where she met one of the major loves of her life, the singer, Mable Batten. 

Hall’s faith (she was a Catholic) informs this novel much more than I had expected. Young Stephen becomes obsessed with trying to cure the Maid Collin’s injured knee by praying to Jesus to take the pain instead. She also directly says she’s fine with taking punishment if she’s caught thinking about Collins when she’s supposed to be doing her school work. Hall doesn’t shy away from the intensity of Stephen’s feelings; the rawness of her characters’ emotion reminds me of Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights (an instant favorite for me). If you’re going to love you may as well love with a reckless abandon that borders on madness or religious devotion (take your pick). Both Hall and E. Bronte would agree on this point. 

Collins is dismissed for an affair with the footman, who is also sacked. Stephen’s next obsession is her horse that her father buys her for her birthday who- I really wish I was kidding-she also names Collins. There was known coding between women and horses in Victorian pornography so much of her audience would know what she’s doing here but even without that connection; Hall’s basically winking at us here because she made it so obvious that we know the insinuation. 

Not even fifty pages into the book and I can already see why 1920′s England lost it’s mind over this. I am a 21st century American Lesbian myself and some of my reactions at different points were also- “Did she really just say that? Oh, girl...” And yes, she did. Hall wrote extremely clearly so it’s impossible to mistake or misinterpret her message as anything else. 

This is the story of a masculine little girl who grows up to realize that she absolutely adores women (to the point of her own self-destruction, at times, which is a whole ‘nother level of ouch to read especially if you’re WLW yourself).

Hall did not shy way or back down when challenged in court over the matter at her censorship trial. Say what you want about the girls and horses, but hats off to Hall for making a valiant attempt to defend gay rights and gay love through penning this novel.

#my grad degree mostly focuses on British literature #I opted for that though at my school you can choose American or British or do a mix of both #sorry I like the Brontes Austen Woolf and now add Hall to the pile #I was raised on British media/humor so I'm a weird flavor of American #My Dad was a big Tolkein and Beatles fan and that kind of started it for me #also they're historic dramas and period pieces are class #radclyffe hall #yeah she's a bit cheeky isn't she #you did what no one else could #the well of loneliness #I still like her even though she's giving me major emotional whiplash #because some of this is sad and some it is funny #stephen gordon #this is probably going to be related to future research and fiction for me #grad school #books #bookblr #my chatter #lesbian writers #lgbt literature #classic lgbt lit #brit lit #background and notes #the other original butch feral horsegirl #Anne Bronte's Matilda is still older since she's from 1847 but wow if they aren't almost the same character archetype #want to compare notes? :) #I self-assigned this one #I would fight someone for Radclyffe Hall #very inspiring #I bet she also spoke German too! :O

[happymeishappylife]

Books I’ve Read in 2022 - Part 3

21. Sole Survivor by Dean Koontz

One of Koontz’s typical suspenseful thrillers, leads a broken down father on a hair raising adventure as he tries to figure out why a mysterious woman is taking photographs of his wife’s and daughters’ gravesite when they died in a deadly plan crash a year ago. His exploration of it, using his journalist background, leads him around the southwest, meeting others connected to the victims or the investigation of the crash and a secret government agency that has been tried to be covered up for a long time. Plus it tries to bring this man closure while he also realizes he’s been running for his life.

22. The Clockmaker’s Daughter by Kate Morton

A really beautiful and fascinating story about how one house and the unfortunate circumstances that happen in it in the 1800s leads to connections of people who visit and unknowingly become connected to each other. Following the perspectives of a woman trying desperately to connect to her dead mother right before her wedding, we see how her search of a house from her childhood stories unravels the mysteries of it including the background story of Birdie, the now resident ghost of the house. It was cool to see the different stories all throughout history and while the past is tragic, it is also comforting to see it from a ghost’s perspective.

23. The Bride Wore Black Leather by Simon R. Green (Novel #12 of the Nightside Series)

And at long last, I’ve come to the end of the Nightside and the adventures of John Taylor. It was fun though and I very much enjoyed the series exploring the dark and haunted land underneath Proper London. The action in in the novel is great, especially as John Taylor feels suddenly alone like he did in the first novel, but I’ll admit, since this is the Nightside we’re talking about, I felt a little let down by the whole ‘Oh and all my friends were on my side the whole time, just lying to me, in order to stop the threat and save the Nightside’. Like it felt a little bit too happy. Still it was also fun to see it come full circle with Cathy being the one helping John throughout when he only came back to the Nightside on a case to save her.

24. Hollow Earth by John and Carole E. Barrowman

What if your imagination could bring things to life? Well in this novel, two preteen twins learn that not only are they a part of a secret order of artists that can bring drawings to life, but that they are caught of in a mix of danger and scandal as their powers keep growing because their parents should have never had relations in the first place. The pacing is set right as the beginning as Matt and Emily Calder escape London with their mom and travel to a remote island in Scotland to meet their grandfather and better train their powers. But the threat is still there when their grandfather gets hurt and their mom disappears. While this book solved some problems it definitely sets up for a series, so I’ll be curious to see where it goes.

25. Days of Blood and Fire by Katherine Kerr (Book #7 of the Deverry Novels)

Picking up right where the last novel left off, we get to see Jill in full sorceress mode as she works to protect the Dunn of the future mother to the unborn/reborn form of Evandar’s daughter, a danger made more real as her mysterious figure of a mother threatens the real world. I really enjoyed this novel, except for the constant need to have Rhodry constantly have sex and fall in love with every woman that he meets which is very annoying, but truthfully right when I was ready to keep going the book ended. I mean come on! We just met a dragon!

26. The Stationary Shop by Marjan Kamali

This is such a touching novel even if it is so tragically heartbreaking. It tells the tale of Roya and Bahman as they fall in love as teenagers in Tehran right before the 1950s coup that overthrows the Prime Minister. Torn apart by a cruel and twisted plot that involves the backstory of Bahman’s mother and the owner of the stationery shop where the two meet, they go on to live different lives, married to other people, only to discover when its too late the truth about their past. Its hard, but loving and makes you appreciate the chances you should take to stay with the people you care about as well as understanding that influences outside your control lead your life in different directions, but not all bad ones.

27. The Dresden Files: Side Jobs by Jim Butcher

A collection of side stories written in between the other Dresden Novels, you get to see not only more of our favorite characters in between the fallout of the other novels, but also get perspectives we never see in the books. One of those is Thomas as he works in the mysteries of Harry to protect and help vanquish a war that no one knows about. It was nice seeing not only how Thomas operates day to day, but also how much he cares for his brother. I also loved the last story through the eyes of Karrin Murphy. While I still don’t like the idea of her and Harry ending up together as the novels and other stories suggest they will, it was nice to see how much she could handle herself without Dresden. I also appreciated that Jim put in his very first small excerpt he wrote to pitch this series because its a reminder to all writers that we all start from somewhere and just because people say no at the time, doesn’t mean the idea is bad or that we can’t grow our skills.

#2022 rewind #books i've read in 2022

[aliteraryprincess]

Summer Readathon 2022 Update 6/22

I’m feeling pretty awesome about myself. Look at all those finished books! I really need to get going on The Mill on the Floss though. I just shouldn’t have picked up another George Eliot so soon after finishing Daniel Deronda. Fun story about Rank and Beauty: what I found online was only the first volume. There were two more, each 300+ pages. I just couldn’t do it. It was too boring. 

Finished:

Daniel Deronda by George Eliot

In Search of Our Mother’s Gardens by Alice Walker

The 5 Love Languages by Gary Chapman

Blood Orange Night by Melissa Bond

A Literature of Their Own by Elaine Showalter

7 essays from Women and Literature in Britain, 1800-1900 edited by Joanne Shattock

Rank and Beauty, or the Young Baroness Vol. 1 by Anonymous

Juniper & Thorn by Ava Reid

Sexual/Textual Politics by Toril Moi

Misrule by Heather Walter

Currently reading:

The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot - page 45/612

Silent Voices: Forgotten Novels by Victorian Woman Writers edited by Brenda Ayres - selected essays

Not started:

Barchester Towers by Anthony Trollope

Cometh Up as a Flower by Rhoda Broughton

#summerreadathon2022 #booklr #books #readathon

[talesfromtrigadora]

March Book Reviews

Managed to read seven books this month! I'm still behind on my goal of reading 50 by the end of this year, but this is a big improvement over the last two months. Here's a quick break-down of what I read and what I thought about them.

E.J. Dionne, Jr: Why American's Hate Politics

I've had this book on my TBR for a while, and with this being an election year, it seemed like the right book to kick off the year. The writing was easy to follow and track, despite the large amount of facts, dates, and quotes it relied on. Essentially, it both confirmed my own reasons for not loving politics (it's more of a popularity contest than about actual values) and was (disappointingly/annoyingly/bemusingly) relevant to today's politics despite being written in 1992.

Jim Butcher: Storm Front

I picked up this book a while ago when I learned that "The Dresden Files" TV show was based on this book series. I liked the show, so I figured I would like the book. As it turns out, I did not. While the premise is interesting (magic exists and there are wizards and fancy councils that help keep it in check, very urban fantasy), the MC's first-person narrative is not. He has a very low-misogynistic attitude toward woman that is supposed to be accepted as okay because he's a "nice guy."

Lionnne Wheeler: Cool Papa Bell

I try to switch back and forth between non-fiction and fiction, and in an attempt to get more involved in the town I recently moved to, I've decided that every third book is going to be a library book. This was my first one. It's a very well written biography about James "Cool Papa" Bell, one of the longest playing semi-pro baseball players who never got to play in the major leagues due to Jim Crow laws. He (and several of his team mates) were later added to the Baseball Hall of Fame, but the majority of the book is a very subtly written commentary on the excuses made in the effort to hide our permeating racism during the rise of the Civil Rights Era.

Ernest Cline: Ready Player One

Absolutely loved this book. It was so easy to get through even for someone who's familiarity with video games is essentially nothing. I very much enjoyed the references to the '80s media, and multiple times found myself wanting to look up the music, TV Shows, and movies that were referenced (at least the ones I wasn't already aware of). Maybe my favorite little Easter Egg was the cameo appearance of Will Wheaton (who I have always enjoyed) as the unquestioned leader of the AU.

Erik Larson: The Devil in the White City

This is the second history book I've read from this author and his popularity is well earned. So easy to read and endlessly interesting, I have no regrets of the number of blind books of his I bought before ever actually reading them. This one is about the World's Fair that was held in Chicago at the end of the 1800s in honor of the US's Centennial. It was fascinating to see the trouble that came from it, from the physical struggles of building the fair to the politics that came into play, and also interesting to see how it paired neatly with the rise of H. H. Holmes, one of the most prolific US Serial Killers to this day.

Jeff Abbott: An Ambush of Widows

My rule for my library book choices is to just pick the first book in the fiction/non-fiction section and go from there. Limits the need to think about things too hard and will force me to read things I wouldn't otherwise read. This is definitely one of those books, and at least in this case, I would've been right not to be interested. This book attempts to be a mystery novel and a thriller, and fails at both. While there is a mystery, the eagerness to solve that mystery is quickly lost due to the attitude of the three MCs. The attempt at a thriller is thrown out with the unnecessary development of the "villain." It would've been a more affective novel with only the one MC (Kirsten), far less telling -- especially about things that really didn't need to be said until they became relevant -- and far more showing.

C. Vann Woodward: The Strange Career of Jim Crow

This is another book that has been on TBR for a while. It was such an old copy that unfortunately my reading of it actually destroyed it, so I will need to track down a new copy. Like the first book on this list, it did a good job of summarizing the rise and "fall" of Jim Crow laws. I was intrigued to learn that right after Emancipation, many of the citizens of the South did not have any problem (or at least had limited issues) with integrating with the former slaves. It was only when politics got too involved, that Jim Crow laws started to rise, and they began with disfranchisement essentially because the political parties couldn't play fair and the new black voters got tired of being "won" by the different parties more for their vote than for their actual needs. I can't say I am entirely surprised by this piece of history.

#writing #book review #fiction #nonfiction

[booksandlits]

The Google definition of 'Classics' go as 'A famous book,play,etc. which is of high quality and has a value that will last!'

Now,coming to this one,I am just befuddled!Throughout the time I was reading this book,I was wondering,'How can something like this come under "Classics" especially in the genre of Gothic horror?Am I missing something in understanding the genre in itself?' As a matter of fact,I still don't get it.

It is truly remarkable that a teenager especially a woman in 1800s wrote such a lengthy novel particularly as a part of a challenge! I totally admire that and I respect this piece for that.

BUT,this one definitely isn't something which could give you horror.The unnatural human created by Frankenstein was NEVER an evil being.The unfolding of the story clearly shows that how bad the creature was craving for love and company.THAT IS ALL!That is the only one thing the being seems to be wanting.If Frankenstein has understood that and tried to build a good rapport with him,he would never have caused ANY of the troubles which Frankenstein thinks is all because of him being ugly and evil.After all,the creature takes more pain and gives a vivid picture in trying to explain every single thing faced by him once left by Frankenstein.That part alone goes for around 4-5 chapters...I can only think of Frankenstein as a human with no humanity! I mean,he created him and just because he wasn't looking as he expected,he wants him out of sight and though the being survived every adversity, it was left to deal with ALONE and even seems sane minded enough to explain his part of the story to Frankenstein,all that doesn't suffice! It made me irritated in all the places when Frankenstein was mad at the creature and called him all the names.I could only picture this as a parent who gave birth to an unwanted child and left the child alone in the world,to survive on its own,when it didn't know anything.The irony is the same parent who was sole responsible for the ruining of that child's life,trying to make the kud look like a villain when all the child expects is love.Here, Frankenstein is the parent and the creature is the child.No wonder kids who couldn't get through to their parents becomes toxic to themselves and others in way or the other.

Also,I always felt that Frankenstein was over acting and it was HIGHLY irritating.I mostly felt like he lost EVERYTHING he ever loved just because he couldn't love the one he created!What a waste of one's live!Actually,everyone's life was wasted because of him.

Maybe,this book can be brought under,'How NOT to be a parent?!' genre(if that exists)but absolutely not a gothic horror let alone a thriller! I NEVER felt any thrilling moments.As a matter of fact,I have never checked how many pages left after EVERY page while reading any other books.

It might have been my mistake too...

1.Picking this up after 'Verity' and 'The Silent Patient'(some of the incredible thrillers I have read so far),

2.Started reading this immediately after watching 'Wednesday'('THE BEST')

All my immediate set expectations on a Gothic horror and Thriller could've clouded my judgement on this book too!

BUT,as much as I respect and adore the work a teenager over a mere challenge,I wasn't quite enthralled reading this.I had many books in my TBR which fall under 'Classics' category including 'Jane Eyre'(again a Gothic horror) and some of the Shakespeare's books too.But,I am very scared to start them since THIS 'Classic' wasn't classic at all to begin with and I feel the others might resemble this!

P.S.:Highly NOT recommended unless you are absolutely free and purposely wanna waste your time!But,even then be warned that it might leave you with a heavy headache.

Rating: I deliberately wanna refrain from this since I feel bad about giving a negative rating mainly for a 'Classic'.At the same time,not wanna give a rating which would go against my conscience and I wanna remain an honest reviewer!

Disclaimer:This is purely MY take on the work.

Have you read this?Do you agree to what I said?Let me know in the comments👇🏻

#booksandlits #book tumblr #bookstagram #bookstagrammer #booktube #booktuber #book log #booklover #book recommendations #book review #readers of tumblr #frankenstein #gothic #gothic horror #classics

[vivelareine]

Hi! I was hoping you could answer something for me because I'm debating about it somewhere. Did Marie Antoinette pretend to be a peasant/farmer at the hameau at the Petit Trianon?

She didn't. There is no evidence that Marie Antoinette ever pretended to be a farmer, milkmaid/dairymaid, shepherdess, peasant, and so on at the hameau de la reine.

The idea that she and her entourage were playing "village" can be traced to the non-contemporary names given to the buildings during the First Empire period. These building names (vicar's house, etc) gave the false impression that they were pretend "houses" used to simulate a fake village. Whereas in reality, the buildings all had specific purposes, whether they were recreational buildings intended for the elite people or practical buildings intended for the workers.

Like other historical myths, it gets repeated enough times and suddenly it's "true," showing up in books as fact without vetting, being depicted in film (La Revolution Francaise where she milks cows, etc).

But when you go back to the sources, there's no evidence for it. Only evidence that she treated the hameau de la reine like any elite woman would have treated a country estate: she was the mistress who hired employees to do the labor, and "managed it" like an elite woman would manage a country house, and enjoyed its recreations. Approving livestock orders that the head farmer requested, asking for reports on the status of crops, etc. Hosting dinners there, taking walks, tasting the dairy products made in her name, etc.

Another common myth is that she was milking perfumed cows, petting beribboned sheep, etc. Again, all false. I also sometimes see people deride the fact that she asked for a goat that had a good temper, which such an odd thing to pick on. The head farmer complained about the original goat because the original goat was an asshole (not his contemporary words, of course) so wanted to make sure the next goat wasn't Black Philip incarnate.

IMO, the hameau is novel in a different sense; because Marie Antoinette chose to include both practical and recreational buildings integrated into the same space, she created a unique type of estate which didn't hide away the practical labor used to create elite recreation; unlike similar "hameau" estates, which relied on practical production in other spaces (either out of necessity due to lack of space/ability, or specifically done in order to remove the visual of the labor) the hameau de la reine did not shy away from the practical aspect.

With this in mind, though, the hameau in general has taken on an additional mythical quality thanks largely to the aesthetics of the Sofia Coppola film, which depicts Marie Antoinette and her entourage laying in the grass, petting sheep, skipping around, digging in the dirt for strawberries, etc. It's important to remember that these are modern interpretations of how the estate was enjoyed, and not necessarily based in reality. But it has definitely made an impression on pop culture--see how the Secret Versailles of Marie Antoinette docudrama portrayed the Petit Trianon as a whole as if it came out of the Coppola film.

Back to the hameau as a fake village/fake farm, Marie Antoinette pretending to be a peasant in a blissful surrounding myth: It's a myth which developed in the 1800s, after her death, around the same time that "Let them eat cake" began to stick to Marie Antoinette. Rhe contemporary criticism of the hameau was about its secrecy and privacy, about the supposed sexual and then political dealings going on there, about its expense.

Which was, of course, extraordinary compared to any amount of income the average person would make in their lifetime, though it wasn't statistically notable when it came to French finances--and as I've pointed out before, other royals spent far more but received none of the vehement criticism and dangerous dehumanization for it. Mesdames chateau & hameau at Bellevue cost 96% more than Marie Antoinette’s Petit Trianon chateau & hameau de la reine, and they were not dehumanized and degraded like MA for it, by contemporaries or later historians/writers. One of Mesdames even wrote a letter romanticizing the sounds of the servants at their hameau, and no one’s ever really made a big deal of it.

Both myths (fake village, pretend villager) served in the 19th century to develop the concept of Marie Antoinette as someone who thought that the peasants had a pretty sanitized lifestyle., either out of naivety or maliciousness.

While the real Marie Antoinette certainly couldn't empathize with what it was like to be poor, she expressed sympathy throughout her life and had a surprisingly astute understanding of the impact of a lack of bread (see the letter written they day after the October 1793 march on Versailles) on people's behavior and actions. She didn't think that their lives were represented by the hameau de la reine.

The hameau de la reine was a romanticized notion of a secluded countryside elite estate combined with a mixture of whimsical fantasy, the faux cracks & weathering designed to make it appear when you approached as if it was a mysterious place that had always been there.

Marie Antoinette did not imagine she was a peasant or that this was peasant life, nor was this an attempt to create a sanitized version of peasant life sans poverty and real peasants. I think people often confuse the notion of Marie Antoinette wanting a "simpler" life with Marie Antoinette trying to pretend she wasn't a queen; this was not the case. She never forgot she was an elite woman; she simply wanted to enjoy the type of less-rigid elite life that wasn't uncommon in other European royals, but which was considered unusual and in Marie Antoinette's case, unforgivable for a queen of France.

Some further reading:

Pierre de Nolhac, The Trianon of Marie Antoinette (1925)

Meredith Martin, Dairy Queens: The Politics of Pastoral Architecture from Catherine de' Medici to Marie-Antoinette (2011)

Simone Bertière, The Indomitable Marie-Antoinette (2014)

And to recommend something I wrote, Let's Visit! The Laiterie de Préparation at the Hameau de La Reine, I talk a bit about the practical/working dairy and my thoughts on the novel integration of the working dairy into the hameau as a whole.

#marie antoinette #french history #petit trianon #versailles #history #18th century

[irishmacguirefucker]

More of the gangs hobbies after settlin down? Maybe for Tilly, Sean and Javier?

I hope these are alright, it was a little hard to think of one for Javier because i feel like I don't know his character very well, but i feel like he’s one of those people that can just pick up any instrument and learn it with a few pointers and some practice. my sister is the same way lmao. Tilly was inspired by the idea of her having this beautiful plant covered bedroom which I thought suited her. Sean was the easiest because he already has a hobby, and honestly he doesn't seem like the hobby type of guy so at least I had a jumping off point. 

Ranch AU masterlist

Tilly:

When they got to the house, the study and most of the rooms all had bookcases filled with every kind of book from encyclopedias to romance novels to medical texts, anything you could think of. So when they all got there, those of the gang who could read and enjoy doing so were in absolute heaven. Any free time was immediately spent on one of the plush armchairs cracking open a dusty book. Tilly was certainly part of this, and in her reading, she gained a huge interest in plant husbandry.

She insists it’s a hobby because her favorite focus is on rare plants that often have no practical use, but she ends up with extensive knowledge of most herbs and plants. She is a big help in the herb garden, especially when they were figuring out which herbs they could grow where and what they could be used for. Her pride and joy however are the plants she grows in her room. All the upstairs bedrooms have large windows, and over time her bedroom has become full of plants. 

Her room is covered in live plants, rare plants that the others found and brought back, rare plants that she went hunting for, ivy and flowers, everything. She has hundreds of pressed and dried flowers in books and decorating her walls, and she is even learning to make teas, inks, paints and makeup with them. (homemade cosmetic recipes used to be placed in women’s magazines in the 1800s as cosmetics were a staple but not everyone could afford to buy them.)

Sean:

As we know, the man enjoys whittling. Before the ranch, he didn’t take it far beyond some sharp sticks, a few arrowheads and some crude figures, but at the ranch he found himself encouraged to take up this hobby to its fullest. It wasn’t his idea really, Lenny encouraged him. For all his fumbling, he really wasn’t bad with that knife of his and Lenny found a couple of books on whittling. It became both an encouraging way to teach Sean to read and a way to learn more about the trade.

Over time he was following the books himself and carving little animal figures and toy soldiers. He got really good at it, and for his birthday, Hosea and Lenny got him a real wood carving kit with curved knives and instructions on how to make a chess set. Hosea said he promised to teach them all how to play chess if Sean could carve them a whole set, and with that encouragement he got to work. Overall the man isn’t the ‘sit down for extended periods of time’ type guy, but it’s great as a more passive hobby when he feels like resting.

It’s especially great for instances where he has to chill out. For example, he actually managed to dislocate his ankle on the way down the stairs and was down for 6 weeks. When staying still got too hard and Grimshaw wouldn’t let him put weight on the foot, the whittling helped. It gave him something to focus on that wasn’t the feeling of being useless or the energy thrumming through all his muscles.

Javier:

At the ranch, there is a beautiful grand piano in one of the sitting rooms. Benefits of inheriting a rich family estate and all that. For a while, nobody really touched it because nobody knows how to use it. Javier had always been musically inclined, he can hold a tune and play the guitar effortlessly. When he was a teenager he picked it up mostly on his own, he just had a knack for music. The piano, however, can be a daunting instrument. It was a while before he touched it. In fact, it wasn’t until an early morning when half the house was outside and the other half was passed out drunk before he did. 

The only reason he wasn’t out working himself was that he was sick with some sort of stomach bug and technically wasn’t supposed to even be out of his bedroom. He didn’t really play anything that first day. He tested the keys, played them all just to know what sound they made. Before he had really gotten to know the instrument, Ms. Grimshaw burst into the room and he was busted for breaking his quarantine. 

It was a woman at the local bar that taught him how to play it a bit more. She was passing through town for a few days with a group of people and playing music each night for a little extra cash. He found himself flirting with her as she took breaks from playing for the bar, and they enjoyed the fleeting company. She showed him a few basics and he took to it like a fish to water. Like anything, it took time and practice but it was a rapid increase in skill, and eventually, he was playing for them all in the sitting room just like he does with his guitar.

#tilly jackson #sean macguire #javier escuella #ranch au #rdr2 #rdr2 ranch #rdr2 ranch au #hobbies #headcanons #au #my au #alternate universe #Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2

[semper-legens]

41. Beloved, by Toni Morrison

Owned: Yes   Page count: 324 My summary: Mid-1800s America. Slavery is over, but its effects still scar the people it touched. Sethe, an escaped ex-slave, lives quietly with her daughter Denver, haunted by a ghost from her past. But the past is not dead or buried, and when memories come knocking at the door, Sethe will have to face what she has done. My rating: 5/5 My commentary:

Here’s a very challenging book. I first read Beloved as part of my uni course many years ago, and the story has stuck with me ever since. It’s a harrowing read - a harsh and brutal look at the history of slavery in America, and the effects that it had on the regular people subject to it. It’s a very good book, drawing on the real life stories of people under slavery, but it’s also a lot to deal with.

Really, the whole book is an exploration of Sethe’s story - why she did the things that she did, and how the horror of her past affects her in the present. She’s trying to get on with her life, struggling always with the moment that destroyed her life - when her previous owners came to find her and, rather than have them taken back into slavery, she attempted to kill her children, succeeding in the case of her older daughter, referred to only as Beloved. Sethe is a tragic figure, haunted by her past and unable to move on. Her journey and struggles towards bettering her life while holding onto the very literal ghost of her daughter is heartbreaking, and the slow reveal of the details of her past creates a compelling narrative. Watching her devolve into codependency when Beloved shows up is also painful - you really just end up wanting the best for her, but knowing that at this time and in this place it is difficult.

Beloved appears early in the narrative - a strange, wild young woman who Sethe and her daughter immediately suspect is the baby ghost brought to life. Beloved, as the title will imply, is really the lynchpin of the entire story, triggering Sethe’s descent into helplessness and nostalgia, sacrificing her chances at making a new life for herself on the altar of her dead child. Beloved is a fascinating character, her erratic and volatile nature is incredibly compelling, and her motives strange and hard to pin down at times. Enjoyed is possibly the wrong word for a book of this type, but I got a lot out of seeing her relationships with Sethe, Denver, and Paul D develop.

One of the more striking things about this book is its use of magical realism.  Beloved’s presence is not explained, and many of the characters seem to take as read that she is in fact Sethe’s dead daughter returned from the grave. Even at the beginning, the presence of a baby ghost in the house is spoken of as an undisputed reality. Characters unconnected to Sethe’s family speculate a mundane explanation, but there is no rational reason that Beloved knows the song Sethe made up and sang to her children, or knows the specific details of Sethe’s life. Morrison wastes no time trying to explain such things, she just trusts that the reader will understand the meaning of Beloved’s existence, even before the exact details of Sethe’s history are described.

Make no mistake, this is a brutal book. The violence and terror of Sethe and Paul D’s lives under slavery and in prison are not censored, and a lot is said in very few words. For instance, what exactly happened to Sethe’s mother is not entirely clear, but the reader can easily pick up on the broad details from what is said. It never crosses over into being gratuitous or just there for shock value - certainly, it is shocking, but its purpose is to show the brutality done to black people in this time period, and never glamourised.

That’s all I have to say here, I think - it’s a very good novel, but certainly a difficult read, full of trauma and hardships. Next up, something a little different, with a book about grief.

#Beloved #Toni Morrison #bookblogger #bookblr #book blogging #5

[trashyswitch]

Virgil's Post-Halloween Adventure With Roman

Virgil has been really down since Halloween came and went. So, Roman creates a full Halloween city so Virgil and some of the other sides can bring their Halloween fantasies to life.

This was requested by @puppysparkles03. You wanted drastic measures, so: HAVE AN ENTIRE HALLOWEEN TOWN! XD Hope you like it!

Virgil had been in a sad mood since November started. Virgil got his chance to dress up and be his scary self for halloween but...now that Halloween was over, Virgil had grown sad. He loved halloween. Why couldn’t it be Halloween for longer than an evening? The only things that have made Virgil somewhat satisfied was his Halloween candy. Virgil’s been eating tons of halloween candy as of late. From sweets to mini bags of chips, to juice boxes and candy corns, even a rice crispy square ended up in his halloween bag. That was a nostalgic moment for him. It was nice to eat a rainbow (gay) rice crispy square.

One day, Roman managed to get Virgil out of his room for a little adventure in the mind palace. Despite enjoying being out of the room, Virgil did grow annoyed by all the walking. “Can’t you conjure up a train or a car? Or, maybe even a horse and buggy?” Virgil asked.

Roman giggled. “Come on, Virgil! It’s such a pretty day for a walk. Wouldn’t you agree?” Roman asked. Virgil only let out a grunt as a reply. Roman turned to face him. “Come on, Hallo-whiner. I think you’re gonna like the special place that I conjured up, just for you:” Roman told him, grabbing his hand.

Virgil looked up at Roman with the smallest glimmer of hope in his eyes. Roman summoned some black eyeshadow, and help Virgil touch it up. “There ya go. And some blood…” Roman started drawing liquid red face paint dribbles that ran down the corners of Virgil’s mouth to the sides of his chin. “There! Maybe some red lipstick-”

“No red lipstick.” Virgil told him.

“Oooor no red lipstick.” Roman changed up his wording before putting the lid on his lipstick. “Okay! Looking all halloweeny!” Roman declared.

“I thought Halloween was over?” Virgil told him.

“Not unless you want it to be over. And something tells me you don’t want Halloween to be over just yet.” Roman admitted.

Roman picked up Virgil and walked up a hill. Soon, the luscious green grass disappeared from his vision and dark purples, oranges and blacks filled his vision. Virgil’s eyes widened when he realized what it was: It was an entire halloween city!

“What do you think?” Roman asked.

“Are you kidding?!” Virgil reacted. “I LOVE IT!” Virgil yelled, grabbing his shoulders with a big smile on his face. Roman giggled and looked over at the halloween city. “Now: I have given you the ability to snap into the halloween costume of your dreams!” Roman explained to him. “For example:” Roman snapped and watched as a bunch of material surrounded him before disappearing with his costume on himself.

“Oooooh! A roman emperor?” Virgil specified.

“Indeed! A Roman emperor who must rule with an iron fist!” Roman explained. His clothing consisted of a white robe with a brown rope tied around his middle, and a long red sash that was wrapped around his left arm and flowed down the rest of his lower body. To top it off, Roman had a golden laurel wreath on his head! He looked amazing, to be honest!

“Do you have a costume preference of your own, Virgil?” Roman asked.

Virgil nodded and snapped his fingers. A whole bunch of material surrounded Virgil, and soon flew away and disappeared to reveal Virgil’s brand new costume.

Roman gasped and dropped his jaw. “OH MY GOSH- SWEENEY TODD! YESSS!” Roman reacted, covering his mouth.

Virgil was dressed up as Johnny Depp’s version of Sweeney Todd. He had his brown hair spray dyed black and gelled back, with a white big streak in the middle left of the hairline. He had the slightly tattered vest tuxedo with a belt on a pair of striped pants, male ankle boots and a pair of fingerless gloves on his hands. In his vest pocket were some plastic traditional barber knives, and in his pants pocket was a vintage pocket watch.

“HELL YEAH! I LOVE Sweeney Todd! Classic musical!” Roman declared.

Virgil looked at his own costume and started acting a little like a fanboy. “I’ve always wanted to dress up as this character, but it’s a really hard costume to pull off.” Virgil admitted.

“Oh! You forgot something!” Roman told him. Roman summoned a long black coat and put it on Virgil’s shoulders. Virgil smiled and put it on. “It’s gonna be a little cold in there.” Roman let him know.

Virgil blushed a little. “Thank you.” Virgil replied.

“Now come, my killer barber! We shall visit Halloween City!” Roman declared, pointing to the city. Suddenly, a big horse and buggy came rolling up right beside them. Virgil and Roman hopped into the horse and buggy before the horse was signalled to start clop-clopping to the city.

The city itself was FILLED to the brim with stereotypical halloween stuff. There were stores for buying and trying on halloween costumes of large variety, big towers with witches and cauldrons so you could make your own spells, a big library filled with horror, thriller and grotesque-themed books and movies in them, a cemetery filled with floating ghosts, skeletons and zombies, and there were even caves surrounded by dead forest that housed the cats, snakes, bats and vampires. The more that Virgil saw out the sides of the horse and buggy windows, the more excited Virgil got!

“You made all this?!” Virgil reacted.

“Yes, I did!” Roman replied.

Virgil gasped and looked around more as the horse and buggy dropped them off in the middle of the city. The middle of the city has a simple, run down fountain in the middle with vines circulating the brick water pit. In the middle of the water fountain, was a few skulls lined up like a square with an infinite waterfall running through their eyes, nose holes and mouths, that fell into the water pit below. It was kinda creepy, but...strangely beautiful to look at.

Virgil almost immediately ran up to the big victorian library. “COME ON, ROMAN!” Virgil yelled to him.

“I’M COMING!” Roman yelled, quickly catching up to him.

Virgil walked up the stairs and quickly opened up the library door. The Victorian library was just as vintage-looking as it was on the outside. Only change being the place looked like a clean kind of vintage. The metal looked polished, the huge shelves looked old but not dirty or super run down, the ladder was wooden but stable and well made, and the middle aisles of shelves had movies and VHS tapes that you could borrow! This wasn’t just a victorian era library...this was a super old building that had been well kept and updated throughout the centuries!

Virgil happily looked around. “Logan would be over the moon about this.” Virgil told Roman.

“I know! He already IS!” Roman told him, before pointing to the ancient kids stories sections. There, hidden within the aisles, was Logan reading a Brothers Grimm fairytales from the 1800’s!

Logan looked up and smiled. “Hello, Virgil. I love the costume.” he greeted, giving Virgil an excited smile.

Logan was dressed up as Charlie ‘The Tramp’ Chaplin. He had the large bowl hat, the mustache, the large shoes, the suit and everything in between! He even had a bamboo cane perched up against the library shelf while he read.

“Hi Logan. Charlie Chaplin, huh?” Virgil reacted.

“Indeed. One of the most well known actors of the silent era.” Logan replied.

Virgil smiled and decided to ignore the bad things about Chaplin...for now. “Enjoying the book?” Virgil asked.

“Yes, I am! This is simply a collection of the Brothers Grimm stories compressed into one novel. It’s very interesting understanding just how much grim topics they could handle back in the day.” Logan told him.

Virgil nodded and started to look around himself. He found an aisle filled with classic novels like Little Woman, The Pride and The Prejudice, the Nancy Drew series, the Frankenstein novel and the original Dracula, an aisle filled with Shakespeare books, an aisle filled with outdated nonfiction books on multiple subjects, an entire aisle dedicated to the decades of encyclopedias, and even an entire aisle dedicated to the Marvel comic books throughout the decades! Virgil practically LOST it when he found Edgar Allen Poe novels, and quickly bought them. To make things even cooler, Roman summoned some 1800’s original bills and coins so he could pay for them! Virgil owed him a huge hug for that one.

After visiting the library, Virgil was brought to the cemetery to take a walk with Roman. “You are gonna LOVE this!” Roman told him. They only got a few minutes to walk around the cemetery before the huge clock tower struck 12.

Suddenly, a bunch of skeletons came digging out from under the graves and started dancing! The skeletons were very cartoon-like, similarly to Disney’s skeleton animation! And the best part? They were listening to ‘Spooky Scary Skeletons’ on a big radio as they danced around!

Virgil was smiling through the whole thing. “This is awesome!” Virgil reacted.

“I’ll say!” someone said, walking up to him from behind. Virgil turned around and widened his eyes. “Oh my…Are you Ed Gein?” Virgil asked.

Remus chuckled. “You bet I am!” Remus replied.

Virgil rubbed his nose, but chuckled a little. “You couldn’t go for leather face? Or Norman Bates?” Virgil asked.

“Nope! Gotta go all out!” Remus declared. “And what better than a guy who does more grave-digging than murdering?” Remus joked.

Virgil nodded, but awkwardly looked away. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Remus’s costume.

“WHY HELLO THERE!” someone yelled behind him. Virgil yelped and turned around. It was one of the dancing, singing skeletons!

“O-oh...You talk?” Virgil reacted.

“You BET I do! Call me Skelly!” the skeleton introduced, holding out their bone hand.

Virgil raised an eyebrow and chuckled at the name. “Virgil.” He replied, shaking the bone hand.

“What’s so funny? Is my name rib-ticklin’ to ya?” Skelly asked, showing off his ribcage.

Virgil stifled a laugh and pushed their shoulder. “Knock off the puns. You’re not as humerus as you think.” Virgil told him.

Skelly frowned at first, but quickly caught on. Skelly pointed to his own shoulder and smiled widely, before laughing. “Not bad, ol’ chum!” Skelly reacted. “Now tell me: Are you a skeleton too?” Skelly asked.

Virgil thought for a moment. “Well, not exactly. I do have a skeleton in me, but it’s filled and covered with flesh and organs.” Virgil explained.

“Wow! So, you have muscles?” Skelly asked. Virgil nodded. “A heart?” Skelly asked, pointing to the left side of his own chest. VIrgil giggled and nodded. “Oh! What about a skull?” Skelly asked before knocking on the top of Virgil’s head.

Virgil yipped at first and flapped his hands above his head. “Oi! My noggin’s not for knockin’!” Virgil warned.

Skelly chuckled at that. “What about ribs? Do you have a ribcage too?” Skelly asked, poking the left side of his ribcage.

Virgil jumped and stepped back, throwing his hands up in defense. “Okay buddy...No poking.” Virgil warned.

“Why not? Ticklish ribs?” Skelly asked, poking his ribcage again. Virgil wheezed somewhat and flapped his hands at him. “Dohon’t you dare…” Virgil warned.

Roman walked up to Virgil and picked the man up before throwing him at Skelly. “Have fun!” Roman told him.

Virgil squeaked and reached his arm out. “NO!” before landing into Skelly’s arms.

Skelly caught him perfectly and held him like a baby. “What a cute little fleshy skeleton I have! I could tickle you here,” Skelly started poking and prodding his ribs. “Here, here,” Skelly poked his front ribs. “Here, Aaaand HERE!” Skelly placed its claw tips onto Virgil’s belly and started skittering his fingers on his belly.

“What thehehehe- HAHAhahahaha! Whyhyhyhy thihihihis?!” Virgil asked, falling into a fit of giggles.

“Oh! It’s quite simple, really. I remember hearing from a certain someone, that your black makeup turns a dark purple when you’re all flustered! Isn’t that right, Emperor Romulus?” Skelly explained.

Roman giggled and shook his head. “It’s Roman, Skelly.” Roman corrected.

“Oh yeah…” Skelly muttered as he moved his fingers to Virgil’s sides.

“WAIT! NAHAhahahat myhyhyhy sihihihides! Lahahay ohohoff, mahahahan!” Virgil ordered.

“Lay? Okay.” Skelly laid Virgil down onto the dirt ground and resumed squeezing his sides.

“ThAHAHAt’s nahahahat whahat Ihihi meheheant, ya doohohohofus!” Virgil reacted.

“Really? When you said ‘lay off’, you didn’t mean ‘put me onto the ground and continue tickling me’? I could’ve sworn that was what you meant.” Skelly teased.

“Thahahat’s NAHAHAT whahahat I meheheant, ahahand YOHOHOHOU knohohow ihihihihit!” Virgil shot back.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so harsh on me. Looking at my point of view, you’d be confused too.” Skelly lightly argued.

Then, Skelly decided to pull a move that would drive anyone mad: Skelly started quickly spidering his fingers up and down Virgil’s ribs and sides. “NOOO! NO, NONONO- SKEHEHELLYHYHYHY! STAHAHAHAHAP!” Virgil laughed. Virgil’s eyeshadow color started to change the longer that he was tickled. And the higher up that Skelly’s fingers went, the more hysterical that Virgil’s laughter became. “WAHAHAITWAIT! DON’TGOAHAHANY- AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! CUHUHUHUT IHIHIHIT OHOHOUHUHUT!” Virgil pleaded through his laughter.

“But why? You seem to be having so much fun! I can see it in your eyes!” Skelly proclaimed. “Well...below them, anyway.” Skelly followed up. Virgil’s eyeshadow had turned a pretty hue of purple rather quickly. Roman’s mouth widened excitedly as he gazed upon Virgil’s flustered face. “Roman was right! His eyeshadow CAN turn purple when flustered and happy!” Skelly reacted.

Roman smiled. “So Virgil Sanders enjoys being tickled?” He asked.

“IHIHIHI DOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOT!” Virgil tried to protest.

Roman just giggled at this. “Your eyes and eyeshadow marks give you away. Not only are you flustered by tickling, you seem to love the affection!” Roman explained out loud.

“Well! Rattle my bones and call me Skelly!” Skelly declared in surprise. “This Sweeney Todd is kinda cute!” Skelly declared.

“AHAHAHAM NOHOHOHOHOT!” Virgil protested.

“You really are, Virgil.” Roman replied. “Right, Skelly?” Roman asked.

“You are indeed, right!” Skelly replied.

As much as Skelly wanted to keep tickling him, Roman soon gave him the signal to stop. Skelly followed what he said and retreated his bony fingers. Stepping aside, Skelly let Roman walk up to him and help Virgil up.

“You okay?” Roman asked. Virgil nodded and took Roman’s hand, allowing him to help him up. Virgil’s eyeshadow was still quite purpley after all that. Roman giggled at this and rubbed his cheek. “Still flustery purple.” Roman told him happily.

Virgil giggled and shook his head as he pushed Roman’s hands away. “Stahap that.” Virgil told him, still quite flustered. Roman, Remus and Skelly all laughed at this.

Soon enough, Virgil and Roman moved on, to explore the rest of the city. As they left, Virgil and Roman gave Skelly a goodbye wave. “Bye Skelly! Have fun singing!” Roman yelled to him.

“Will do!” Skelly replied.

“Thank you for the fun time, Skelly!” Virgil said to him.

“Not a problem at all!” Skelly yelled back.

Virgil, Roman and Remus went to a special costume shop next, where he happily got himself a pair of bat wings and a vampire cloak!

By the time the clan got back, Virgil and the sides were feeling as happy as could be. They quickly started showing off their stuff to each other.

Remus got a fake skeleton from the prop shop, a witch potion bottle filled with thick blood, and a big black victorian portrait from the vintage market! He was non stop talking about having his room all halloween-y, till Remembrance day comes around.

Logan got himself a dozen books, a vintage writing book, a fountain pen and multiple ink reloading viles! He was all set for some journaling.

Roman got himself a classic king crown, an empty treasure chest to fill with items, and some vintage, expensive-looking jewellery for himself! He looked super excited to look like he was covered in riches.

Besides the bat wings and the cloak, Virgil also got himself some ruby red lipstick, a pretty black vampire choker, and a pair of black formal shoes.

With how the day went, Roman could proudly proclaim that Halloween City was a big success! Roman placed the entire imagined place into a pretty notebook and carved the words ‘Halloween City’ and ‘open on November 1, 2021’ into the front before placing it onto his book shelf...

#halloween #imagination #ler!skelly #lee!virgil #virgil is a sweetheart #emperor roman #1900s logan #ed gein remus #sweeney todd virgil

[alit0my]

if you're still taking prompts: while in exile Booker dies some death that fucks his brain a bit and makes him lose his memories in a weird way. The team steps in to take care of him in order to prevent the secret from coming out and just care for him bc they still love him. And Booker doesn't remember them but still has FEELINGS from before. And one day he tells them all "I don't remember who any of you are, but I do know that I love you all SO MUCH" and the team is stunned and like "OH GOD"

im always taking prompts anon ;-) i hope you like this!

~

Andy’s cell phone rang in the middle of the night, waking the others as the ringtone blared through the small sleeping quarters. Quickly, she picked up the phone and murmured her apology to the team. 

“Copley? It’s four am, what’s going on?” Andy spoke, knowing the man was on the other end. He was the only person who had the number after all.

“Andy. I’m sorry, but this couldn’t wait until morning. It’s Booker,” Copley said with an urgent tone. “He’s been injured.” 

Andy sat up a bit straighter in her bed, resting against the headboard. “He’s not healing?” 

The others became more awake at her words, glancing at each other in alarm. Booker was still young, there was no way he wasn’t healing.

“Somewhat. I sent him on a simple job to get intel and it went to shit,” Copley sighed. “It’s his memories, they seem to not have returned to him when he woke, and I’m worried that will cause unwanted trouble.” 

Andy’s breath hitched in her throat, her grip on the burner phone tightening. “How far back does he recall?” 

“He thinks he’s back in Marseille, 1800’s. Unsure of the exact year I’m afraid” 

“He’s looking for his family,” Andy cursed quietly, nodding at the others to get ready to leave. “Where is he now? Do you have an address?” 

“I’ll send it through. I’m also not sure if he remembers you, so I’d be weary about busting the door down and putting him on the defensive foot straight away.” 

Andy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Alright, thanks Copley.” 

“What’s happened?” Nicky asked, zipping up his duffel bag. Andy stood and swung her own duffel bag over her shoulder, grabbing the car keys off the bedside table. 

“I’ll explain on the way.”

~

Sebastien stood in front of the land that once held his family home. Finding it an empty field of tall grass made him furrow his brows in confusion. Where was Claire? Louis? Michel? Jean-Pierre? Had they moved and not told him? Surely he hadn’t been away for too long to have the house pulled down and grass to grow. 

He watched as groups of people walked past him, not paying him any mind. Frowning, he tried to find something he could identify in his surroundings, but came up short. 

“Excuse me, can you tell me what happened to my home?” He asked a group that walked by, earning him strange looks. 

“Sir, that has been a vacant block for as long as I can remember. There hasn’t been a property there for years,” One of them replied, smiling even though they were confused. Their answer only made Sebastien just as bewildered. 

“What do you mean? What is the date today?” 

“Um,” the stranger pulled a flat object out of their pocket and then put it back just as quickly. “27th of October, 2036.” 

“20- No, that’s not-” 

Something buzzed in his pocket which cut him off. He reached in, pulling out a contraption that looked familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was called. He gave the stranger his thanks as they walked off, and the thing still buzzed in his hand, so he flipped it open and brought it to his ear. It seemed like the right thing to do with the object. 

“Booker?” A man’s voice came through, shocking Sebastien. How was this possible? 

“Who are you? Who is Booker?” He spoke in French. “Where is my family?” 

He waited impatiently before the other man replied in shaky but understandable French. “Sebastien, my apologies. I understand you might be feeling lost, but I have people on the way to help you.” 

“Who? I don’t want help! I want my wife and children!” He shouted, throwing his hands in the air. 

“I understand, but right now you need to get to the address I’m going to send you. Can you manage that?” 

Sebastien pulled the phone away from his ear as the object buzzed once more. The address that appeared on the screen wasn’t too far from where he was. 

“Sebastien?” 

Bringing the phone to his ear once more, he nodded. “I-I will be there.” 

~

Sebastien walked up to the door of the address the man had sent him, finding the key under the course mat outside. Walking into the house, he was greeted with four strangers. Halting at the entrance, fingers still gripping the doorknob tightly, he chuckled awkwardly. 

“I think- I might be in the wrong place,” he stammered, the French slurring together as he rushed the words. “So sorry.” 

“Nonsense,” the older woman spoke in perfect French. “Come in. We are here to help you.” 

Sebastien hesitantly closed the door behind him as he stared at the group. The two men sat together on the couch, a little too close for what was normal with their knees touching. The younger woman had dark skin and tight braids falling over her shoulders, and the other woman had short hair, like his own. Sebastien blinked and shoved his shaky hands into his pockets. These people seemed familiar to him, but he didn’t know how. 

“You can’t help me unless you know what happened to my family,” he whispered and cast his eyes to the floor, missing the knowing looks shared between the strangers. 

“Book- Sebastien, your family is standing right in front of you.”

He looked up and scoffed. “Non, unless I gained two daughters and my wife cheated on me with darker men, you are not my family.” 

He saw the man with curly hair clench his fists and the young woman clench her jaw. He had hit a nerve, but he was unaware of why. 

“Okay, let’s start with our names, no? I’m Andromache,” the fair woman spoke again, gaining his attention once more. “Everyone calls me Andy.” 

“Nile,” the dark woman said.

“Nicolo,” he said with a strong Italian accent.

“Yusuf,” was said with a curt nod. 

None of the names brought Sebastien any closer to figuring out what the hell was happening. At his blank face, Andromache spoke once more. 

“Can I ask what year you think it is?” 

“1807,” he replied, and he gauged their reactions. 

“Alright,” Andromache nodded, chewing at her bottom lip. “Well, we’re here to help you remember. But I think we should start with dinner?” 

’Remember what?’ Sebastien thought, but nodded, which set everything into motion. 

~

He had learned that they called him Booker. He was unsure as to why, and they refused to tell him, so he paid it no mind. They shared stories of their time together, leaving out his betrayal all those years ago, but Sebastien couldn’t remember any of it, and nothing was flashing in his mind as a reminder. 

Months passed and Winter settled over France, sending chills through Sebastien’s bones even when he was seated in front of the woodfire with a woolen jumper wrapped around him. His fingers shook as he flipped the pages of the novel he was reading and he grunted in frustration, placing the book down by his side and sticking his hands out in front of him, closer to the fire to warm them. 

Sebastien frowned as he absently stared at his hands in front of the flames. He remembered that he loved the cold, playing in the snow and building snowmen with his siblings, all of them returning home with noses and ears flushed red, so he couldn’t understand why he felt so cold now. 

Yusuf -Joe- sat down next to him and silently offered to share the blanket that was wrapped around his shoulders. Only hesitating for a moment, Sebastien scooted closer to Joe and leant into the warmth that radiated off him, feeling the blanket wrap around his shoulders and Joe’s hand squeeze his arm. 

It felt familiar, friendly, loving. 

“Did we ever tell you about Russia?” Joe asked quietly, keeping his eyes on the flames. At the shake of Booker’s head, he continued. “It’s where you first died in 1812, fighting for Napoleon.” 

Booker closed his eyes and tried to remember, but nothing came to mind. He felt frustrated, surely memories would have started to seep through back into his mind, but nothing ever did. Instead, he rested his head on Joe’s shoulder and snuggled closer to him. 

“You.. You were hung for desertion, and you hung for three days before the Grande Armee left camp. We didn’t find you until you were nearly back to France,” Joe spoke softly, and Sebastien could listen to his voice forever. “A Russian winter can be so utterly cruel, and your immortality made you suffer over and over while your comrades succumbed to death. It is why you feel the phantom cold as you are, and a few years ago we discovered that they stop when you are cuddling with one of us as we are now.” 

Sebastien thought over the new information. Fighting for Napoleon in Russia? Surely not.

He didn’t mind the cuddles though. 

“I’m sorry I don’t remember any of you,” Sebastien spoke, voice breaking through it’s lack of use. He found himself not speaking much, preferring to listen to the stories his friends told him and asking questions when he got lost. 

“Nonsense, Bastien.” Joe ran his hand through Sebastien’s hair softly. “We’re here to help you remember, no matter how long it takes.” 

~

The pair had moved to the couch by the time the others had returned home from their shopping, Nile being adamant about having a big dinner for Christmas in a few days. Sebastien was curled into Joe’s side with the blanket still wrapped around them both, and he felt himself flush at the looks they got from the others. 

Nicolo -Nicky, now, remember?- smiled and walked over, kissing both Joe and Sebastien on the cheek in greeting, before crouching down in front of them. “How are you doing, Bas?” 

“Better. Joe is rather warm,” Sebastien replied, curling further into said man’s warmth. 

“He is, isn’t he,” Nicky chuckled softly, grabbing Sebastien’s hands and rubbing his thumbs over the cool palms. “Nile is cooking dinner tonight. Don’t tell her, but I don’t have much faith in her.” 

Sebastien laughed loudly before burying his face in Joe’s neck as Nile rounded the corner with a faux annoyed look on her face. “Hey! I’m a good cook!” 

Nicky moved to sit on Sebastien’s other side, and rolled his eyes playfully. “I’m sure you are, Nile. That soup you made a few weeks ago was seriously under seasoned.” 

“How dare you! Never in my life would I have imagined a white man telling me I’ve under seasoned my food!” Nile scoffed, but it had become their thing to tease the other about their dinners, so Sebastien didn’t intervene. He had each and every dynamic sorted out by now, and he knew this was playful. 

He felt warmth blossom from his chest as he watched them interact, playfully jabbing at the use of spices and ingredients in Nile’s failed soup attempt, and a grin spread across his lips. Sebastien truly felt at home with these people, they made him feel safe and happy and were always there for him.

He didn’t let himself think that maybe it was because of his memories no longer being with him. He didn’t want to tarnish the few months they’ve had together by believing they didn’t want to be around him. 

He was brought out of his thoughts by a dishtowel hitting him flush in the face. “Hey!” 

“Sorry Book! I was aiming for Nicky!” Nile laughed as the towel fell short when he threw it back to her. Andy had joined them in the room, opting to sit on the armrest of the single recliner with a glass of water in her hands. Sebastien didn’t know what it was about the woman that drew these deep feelings out of him, but he didn’t shy away from them. He didn’t shy away from anything he was feeling towards this little group he found himself in. 

“You good?” Andy asked across the room, making eye contact with the Frenchman. Sebastien thought for a moment, going back to how he fit into this little family, and he nodded, smiling as Nile entered the room with a tray of biscuits. 

“I may not remember who any of you are, but I do know that I love you all, so very much.” 

~ 

Weeks passed and Sebastien -non, Booker- still remembered the looks on his family’s faces as he told them he loves them. The amount of tears spilled that night would have filled the Seine, and he wouldn’t change it for the world. They had ended up in a dogpile on the couch, holding each other close and whispering words of affirmation to each other, promises were made and love was shared. 

Waking up the next morning with a stiff neck but surrounded by the four most important people in his life was worth it. 

Booker woke with a jolt, breathing heavy as he orientated himself. Still surrounded by four bodies, all still and silent, he closed his eyes again and took a few deep breaths. His dream was strange to say the least, with all five of them shooting their way out of an extremely white building, with flashes of being strapped to a plinth in a lab fighting to stay in Booker’s recollection. What on earth had happened?

“Book? Are you okay?” Nicky whispered as he shifted by his side. “Hey, you’re safe.” 

“I know, I know, I just.. I had a weird dream,” Booker whispered back, shimmying a hand out from the blanket that was still wrapped around himself and Joe, to rub at his face. 

“Tell me?” 

Booker paused. “We were fighting in a building. It was really white and there were a lot of corridors, and so many bodies. I’m getting flashes of us strapped down to tables also,” he stopped as he gauged Nicky’s face, which had turned sour. “W-What did I do?” 

He heard a soft curse from his other side which drew his attention to Andy. “Of course the one thing you remember is the worst possible,” she mumbled and sat up. 

“What did I do?” Booker repeated. If he had caused them pain, then that changed everything. 

“Something that you have already paid for,” Nicky grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “It was a painful yet brief moment in our lives, but you need not worry about it anymore.” 

Booker frowned but nodded. He didn’t want to argue so he kept his mouth shut, but that didn’t stop him from searching his brain for answers. 

~

The team had taken up a job from Copley, who Booker discovered was the man who had called him that day in Marseille, and were infiltrating a small terrorist hideout. It was meant to be easy; a stakeout had meant that no resistance should have been present when they attacked, but alas, nothing is ever that easy.

Upon extraction, they had been ambushed by a few terrorists who had returned, and all hell broke loose. Bullets flew through the air and swords hacked away at bodies, and they almost made it out without a casualty. 

Almost.

Booker was shot in the chest and went down. He felt the warmth spread under his clothes and he dropped to his knees, feeling dizzy and the world went black. 

Joe cursed and pulled Booker’s body into an alcove, hiding them from the gunfire. Joe had his gun in his hands, half watching Booker and half looking for any threats coming their way. Andy had reached their location and stood guard as Nile and Nicky joined them, guns still raised in case they had to use them. 

Joe grabbed Booker’s hand and squeezed it, praying silently for his friend’s return to life. He waited anxiously and glanced at Nicky, who had the same look of despair on his face. Joe counted the minutes, praying harder as it went over five. 

“C’mon, Booker,” Andy whispered, nudging the man’s arm with her boot gently. “You’re still in this game with me, remember?” 

A moment passes, and with a gasp the Frenchman sucked in a breath and opened his eyes, frantically searching for his family. Not needing to look far, he immediately calmed at the sight of them altogether. 

“Hey,” he grinned, looking at them all. “Hey Boss.” 

Andy let out a strangled sound and knelt down beside him, encasing him in the tightest hug he thinks he’s ever received from her. 

“You asshole. It’s not your fault but you’re an asshole,” she mumbled as they pulled away. “Is everything back? Do you remember everything?” 

Booker nodded as he quickly ran through his brain, picking out key moments in his life that shaped him for the better and for the worse. “I’m all here, Boss.” 

Booker had the breath knocked out of him as Joe hugged him tight, and he laughed softly, returning it in earnest. 

“If all you had to do was die to get your memories back I would have shot you myself!” Joe huffed as he pulled away, smiling as he picked up his gun that was dropped by his feet. 

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Nile interrupted. “But we’re in the middle of a terrorist camp. Can we have a happy reunion when we are, I don’t know, safe?”

Booker laughed and stood with the help of Joe and Nicky and he raised his rifle, fighting with the team seamlessly as they escaped the compound. 

Back at the safehouse, they showered each other in tight hugs and shared memories and alcohol, toasting to their love for one another as they drank the night away.

~

Available on AO3 also: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26527225 

#booker #sebastien le livre #andy #joe #nicky #nile freeman #the old guard #booker loses his memory #ot5 #joe + booker = bffs

[fedeipox]

The Way of Time (Rdr2 fanfic) - Chapter 4 (1/3)

There are a tons of hidden or very rare missions I’ve never found during the THREE playthrough I made. This was one. I found it absolutely by accident the third time and now thanks to YouTube I know there is also a continue to it that I’ve never done -.-

Previously on TWoT: Emily begins to understand how things work in camp, she gets familiar with hierarchy, roles, personalities, and most important, she starts building friendships. Now it’s time to discover how life outside camp is.

Chapter 4 (1/3) - City girl, country life

Words: 2,3k

“Are you sure about this?” asked Emily as Mary-Beth and Tilly helped her with the boots.

“Yeah, don’t worry. See? They fit you perfectly” answered Mary-Beth pulling the laces.

She had lend her her black boots, while Tilly had given her her light blue shirt. They had found out they had the same size. 

Emily felt like an idiot, she felt ridiculous, she couldn’t wait to wear something new, something more normal, but she was aware that wasn’t going to be possible. How could it be that in 1899 women still dressed in that way? She thought that puffed sleeves and lacework were already outdated, but apparently not. Besides, the idea of that shirt on her skin was making her shiver, and even though both Tilly and Mary-Beth had assured her it was clean and unused, it took a little to convince her to wear it.

“What is this?” asked Mary-Beth when Emily removed her hoodie and t-shirt so that she was wearing only her bra.

“Don’t you have it?” she asked in turn.

They both shook their heads.

“And how do you hold your breasts up?”

“Why you need to hold them up? Are you afraid they’d fall?” asked Karen’s sarcastic voice.

She shouldn’t have been there, Emily didn’t want her there, and the feeling was mutual, but they needed someone who checked no-one would come close as she was changing her clothes, and no-one was better than Karen for that kind of job.

“So you wear nothing?” asked Emily.

“Not usually. Society women wear corsets. Miss O’Shea’s got one” answered Mary-Beth.

“Who’s Miss O’Shea?”

“The redhead with the princess attitude” replied Tilly.

“Oh, you mean Molly. Yeah, I’ve met her.”

“So you already call her by her name. You’ll be great friends, no doubt” said Karen.

Emily huffed and rolled her eyes.

“So, this… bra, you all wear it in the future?” asked Mary-Beth.

Karen scoffed.

“Yes. Every woman has one, or more than one.”

“When were they invented? Or, when will they be invented?”

“I have no idea. I thought in the middle 1800’s, but it seems not.”

“No, still too early apparently.” Emily liked talking with Mary-Beth. Among the girls she was the most open-minded and seemed not to question her provenience from the future. Talk with her was easy. Karen didn’t believe her one bit, but Emily didn’t expect less, while Tilly was still skeptic, but maybe not impossible to convince.

“I wish I could come with you” said Mary-Beth with disappointment.

“Why don’t you? You can advise me on clothes” replied Emily with a new flush of excitement. 

“I can’t. Miss Grimshaw will get angry.”

“But… I don’t understand. Is she some kind of camp tyrant? You all keep telling me how horrible she is.”

“Because she is” said Karen.

“No, she’s not. Not the way you make her sound” Tilly addressed her.

“And you have your freedom. She can’t force you to stay here” added Emily as she wore Tilly’s shirt.

“Oh, yes she can” murmured Mary-Beth.

Emily frowned at those words. 

“Well then… I’ll ask her. Kindly” she said.

“Kindness don’t work with Grimshaw” chuckled Karen.

“We’ll sneak out, then.”

“You can try, but when she’ll find out and hit you, remember my words” Karen advised her.

“Hit me?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time” added Tilly.

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. From the way they were describing her, this woman seemed a monster. 

“Hey hey, where you think you’re going?” Emily heard Karen saying with a menacing voice.

“We need to go. Is she ready?” asked Lenny.

“Yes, I’m coming” Emily said.

Then, she turned to look at Mary-Beth’s disappointed face again. She wanted to go with her and Emily wanted it too, even if that meant risking Miss Grimshaw’s wrath.

“Come with me. I’ll take all the responsibility” Emily assured her and took her by her hand as she walked around the wagon and reached Lenny.

“She’s coming too” she said to the boy.

“Alright, let’s go.” They walked to the other side of camp from where their tent was and from the distance Emily spotted Mr. Arthur tiding a couple of horses to a wagon very similar to the one she was on the day before, maybe exactly the same. 

“Come quick, before she sees us” Emily whispered to Mary-Beth. 

“Morning, ladies. You joining us?” Mr. Morgan asked to Mary-Beth.

“Yes, I want her to come. She’ll be my advisor” replied Emily.

“Does Miss Grimshaw know?”

The two girls exchanged a look.

“Okay, hop on. Quick” whispered Mr. Arthur, walking fast towards the front of the wagon.

Emily smiled at Mary-Beth: they had his complicity. The two of them climbed on the back and sat one facing the other, right next to the big deer Charles Smith had hunted that morning. That would have made them earn a couple of dollars and with that little they had been able to pick up around camp, it should have been enough to buy supplies and provide food for more than twenty people.

Arthur and Lenny took the leading places and they started to move, passing through the trees that covered the clearing with the camp and reaching the path, all without talking. Fearing a travel full of an embarrassing silence, Emily knew she had to find a topic of conversation and thinking about Mary-Beth and what she had understood about her in that couple of days, she thought that books would be a good start. 

“So, I’ve seen you read a lot. What kind of books do you like?” she asked.

“Well, mostly novels about female heroines and their adventures” Mary-Beth replied with some uneasiness, just like she was ashamed of that.

“Oh, so you’re the type who loves romantic stories. In my time you’d probably love Twilight.”

“What is it?”

“A love story between a girl and a vampire.”

Mary-Beth’s eyes widened.

“Vampires? You mean those monsters who suck people’s blood?”

“Actually, in the book the vampires are handsome.”

“Oh for God’s sake” Emily heard Mr. Morgan complain, but she pretended she didn’t.

“Yes. You would definitely adore it. But maybe it’s better if we talk about something you’d now. What about erm… Jane Austen, have you read something of hers?”

Mary-Beth shook her head.

“Oh you must, she’s great. What about… the Bronte sisters?”

Again, Mary-Beth had no idea.

“Well, I guess my first present to you will be a book.”

“Why would you buy me a present?”

Emily frowned. She thought Mary-Beth had already understood what kind of relationship she wanted to built with her, but apparently she had not.

“Because… we’re friends. I mean, I want to be friend with you.”

“But you don’t know me.”

“That’s why I want to be friend with you, to know you.”

Mr. Morgan chuckled again and looking at him for a second Emily saw him shaking his head. Again, she tried not to mind him.

“So, what do you like to do, besides reading?”

Mary-Beth seemed suddenly uncomfortable, just like she had asked her an impossible question.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Come on, there must be something. I like music, for example. What do you like?”

“I-I… I write, from time to time.”

“Hey that’s great! Do you write love adventures?”

“M-more or less.”

“And do you think you’ll publish them someday?”

“N-no, I don’t think so.” “Why?”

“Well, Karen always says my dream of becoming a writer is stupid and I…”

“Why would she say something like that?”

“I think you’ll soon find out Karen is a little too… practical sometimes” said Lenny from the front.

“But, isn’t she your friend?” Emily asked to Mary-Beth.

“Of course, that’s why she says these things, to save me from some delusion. At least, that’s what she tells me”

“I understand being down to earth is important, but you don’t have to give up on your dream, Mary-Beth. Dreams are important, they give us hope.”

“Oh please!” exclaimed Mr. Arthur from the front.

Emily looked again at his back, annoyed by his constant complaining. If he didn’t like the things she was saying, he could have said it to her face, not make grimaces behind her back like children do. 

“Why it gives me the impression you don’t like what I’m saying, Mr. Morgan?” she asked.

“Because I don’t. It’s all bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit, it’s my opinion.”

“Well then, your opinion is bullshit. And you Mary-Beth, don’t let her put them stupid ideas in your mind.”

“I’m not putting any idea in her mind, and she’s not a child, she’s a woman, she perfectly knows how to think by herself and decide what is bullshit and what’s not.”

“I’m just saying writing is no job. It’s just a way to spend time.”

“Like you do, right Arthur? Don’t you have a little journal of your own?” asked Mary-Beth.

When Emily looked at her, she saw she had a little crooked smile on her face and they exchanged a complicity look. Sweet Mary-Beth had an evil side after all, and Emily liked it.

“Ah is that so? You scribble on a journal like a thirteen year old girl, Mr. Morgan?” Emily asked with a mellifluous tone.

“I just keep note of the important events, that’s all” he replied, but his voice betrayed some embarrassment, he’d got defensive.

“And the drawings are part of the important events, too?” asked Mary-Beth creeping in like a treacherous snake. 

“So, you truly are a thirteen year old girl with her little secret diary. Any more embarrassing things I should know about you?” joked Emily.

“At least I’m not the one who tells stories about blood sucking people!”

“You should listen to yourselves! I thought to be the youngest here, but it seems we have two children Mary-Beth!” laughed Lenny. 

“Hey, I’m not the one who started it!”

“Shut up, Arthur.”

...

Silence fell as Arthur felt ashamed for being called child by someone way younger than him. He whipped the horses and made them cross the train trails: they were close to town. Soon they would have found civilization! What a thrill…

“What about you Lenny? What do you like to do?” asked the new girl.

Arthur grunted, but soon tried to hide it with a cough. He didn’t want to sound as childish as they blamed him to be.

“I truly don’t know” replied Lenny.

“You don’t know how you spend time in camp?” asked the girl.

“Most of the time I spend trying to teach Sean how to read” he giggled.

Him and Arthur looked at each other and then they looked away as a veil of sadness fell on them all.

“Isn’t Sean one of those captured after Blackwater?” asked Emily.

Mary-Beth nodded and for some time they all stayed quiet.

Even though Lenny didn’t show it a lot, Sean’ absence was painful for him, he liked him and he missed him and the fact that they didn’t know where he was or if he was alive, made everything worse. He tried to focus the attention on something else.

“What are we going to do in Valentine?” he asked to Arthur.

“Just what we are supposed to. Go to the general store, buy supplies and come back right away.”

“We can’t go back so soon. I need to do something” said the new girl.

“What is it?” asked Arthur, but he already new the answer, she had told him the day before.

“I need to find some kind of job, something that could help us gain some money. And then I have to buy some clothes, so that I don’t have to borrow other people things. And then… I have to take a bath, I really do.”

“We’re going to stay all day” joked Lenny. 

“No, we are not. We’ll split up, so we’ll take care of more things at a time” said Arthur, who had no intention to spend all day in town.

“I’ll go with Emily for the clothes and the bath” said Mary-Beth smiling at her.

Even if at the beginning she wanted to go with them to Valentine only to keep an eye on her, just like Miss Grimshaw had told her to do, she couldn’t deny Emily was funny and smart and sweet, everything that could make her a really good friend, and Mary-Beth knew how much she wanted a good friend.

Valentine was nothing but mud, sheep, and probably morons, just like Hosea had told them. As he led the wagon across the slimy street, Arthur looked around, studying the people faces, the buildings, the kind of movements that town had, and for a moment he doubted they were going to actually find something in that place, some opportunities. He stopped the wagon right in front of the general store so that it would be easier for them to load the supplies on the back.

“Alright folks, let’s get to work” he said jumping down.

“Ooh shit!” he heard the new girl’s voice saying and walking around the wagon he found her standing there with her feet among the mud and a disgusted face.

“What?” he asked.

She raised her eyes to look at him with the same angry expression he had seen on her the night before, with those thick blonde eyebrows curled on her big sparkling eyes.

“I’m covered in mud!” she squeaked.

She really wasn’t, there were a couple of mud drops on her legs, but nothing more, she had no idea of what the sentence “covered in mud” meant, and this annoyed Arthur, making him think how silly that girl was. 

“Come, as you said you have to buy some new, right?” he said taking her arm and pushing her towards the general store entrance. 

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption fanfiction #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female oc #mary-beth gaskill #tilly jackson #karen jones #lenny summers

[jeannekwong]

Friday Reads April 2

Happy April. It is time for another Friday Reads. This will be the first Friday Reads of the month. I will talk about the books I have read, the books I am reading and the books I want to get to.

I will be done with the novel Butter Honey Pig Bread by the time this video premieres. Written by Francesca Ekwuyasi, the book is about three Nigerian women, Kambirinachi and her twin daughters Kehinde and Taiye. The story follows the three women as the daughters become adults and grow apart from each other. The women become separated as they pursue their own lives, finding love and happiness while also trying to understand each other as they gain in age and life experience.  The book explores family, spirituality, the role of food, and sexuality. It is queer love story, a story between sisters, mothers and children, and a story between lovers.  Listening to the audiobook, the narrator gives an intimate performance, as if it is a conversation held between family members.

A book I have been reading for March Mystery Madness is The Silence of Bones by June Hur. This is a YA Historical Mystery set in Joseon Korea in the 1800s.  A noble woman has been found dead. Seol is 16 years old and is an assistant to the Inspector Han. At this time, it is forbidden for a man to touch a woman when she is not closely related to him. Seol has the task of uncovering clues and speaking to women witnesses when men are unable to. Inspector Han himself becomes a suspect, and Seol must find the killer even as she is pulled by the different stories she hears of injustice.

Next, I am interested in reading the library book of the week. It is Remembrance by Rita Wood. The story is told from three different time periods, present day Ohio, Haiti in 1791 at the start of revolution, and New Orleans in 1857 when a young woman is sold just as she believes she will gain her freedom. This is the debut novel by the author and it is about Remembrance of Black slavery and oppression of decades past even as so many choose not to remember and dwell in the past that is painful to so many.

Another book I would like to read for Friday Reads is The Incarnations by Susan Barker. Set in Beijing, a taxi driver thinks he is being stalked. He has received some mysterious letters that speak of a shared past that dates back 1,000 years. They tell about the past lives he has forgotten, such as being a spirit bride in the Tang Dynasty, a young slave running away from Genghis Khan, and a concubine plotting to kill the emperor. The book weaves together Chinese folklore and history, and is the third published by British author Susan Barker.

A book I also planned to read in March as part of March Mystery Madness is A Fatal Grace by Louise Penny. I have decided to read this in April. I have read a few pages of it and did mean to continue with in, but I was still feeling the reading slump I have felt since January. Set in the fictional town of Three Pines, Quebec the story picks up after some time has passed from the events of the first novel. The book follows some of the townspeople from the first book, as they encounter a new murder mystery to solve. It is the second book in the A Chief Inspector Gamache series.

Books on the List

1.      Remembrance by Rita Wood

2.      The Incarnations by Susan Barker

3.      A Fatal Grace by Louise Penny

#FridayReads #HistoricalFiction #Booktube #Thriller #Bookstagram #Mystery #BookTumblr #WeekendReads

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This holiday season, many Americans will tour historic mansions in the Southern United States that are beautifully decked out in traditional wreaths, garlands and mistletoe for Christmas.

At Mount Vernon, George Washington’s Virginia mansion, tourists are promised candlelit tours and a “festive evening” of refreshments, 18th-century dancing and more. Visitors can even meet a re-enactor playing Martha Washington, America’s First Lady.

At the state-run Hofwyl-Broadfield Plantation Historic Site in Brunswick, Georgia, promoters promise attendees a “magical experience” during the holiday event, learning how “Christmas was celebrated on a Southern rice plantation during the 1850s.”

What these tours teach is how rich white Southerners once celebrated Christmas: singing Christmas carols, dancing, drinking the cider brew wassail and enjoying refreshments or formal meals.

Few make a serious effort to tell what Christmas was like for the enslaved workers at these plantations before the American Civil War.

What’s missing?

When the black historian Brandon Byrd visited Belle Meade, a mansion in Nashville, Tennessee, for its Christmas tour a few years ago, he was shocked that the slave community and their harsh realities were barely mentioned. Instead, he reported, the tour guide mostly related “stories about the white men, women and children who woke up to Christmas in the mansion’s plush bedrooms.”

By the American Civil War, nearly four million slaves in all toiled in the southern states, and about a million lived as servants in mansions and as field hands on large plantations with 50 slaves or more. They did almost all the grueling household and field labor that kept these places going, often sleeping and cooking in primitive cabins and working in unhealthy conditions under the threat of the whip.

In fact, the historic mansions hosting Christmas tourists never would have been built without the profits generated by slave labor. The grand Nottoway Plantation and resort in Louisiana, which traditionally puts on a Christmas event, was constructed just before the Civil War by some 155 slave workers.

Fictional tales and memoirs

In researching my 2019 book “Yuletide in Dixie,” I discovered that many historic plantation and mansion sites are reluctant to talk about slavery at their Christmas events. This is partly because administrators want to avoid topics that might make paying guests angry or uncomfortable.

But the omission of black southerners from these holiday tales also stems from pervasive myths about slave life at southern plantations before the Civil War.

For a long time, many people got their ideas about slavery at these places from memoirs, novels and short stories written by white southerners after the Civil War. These stories, now outrageous for their racial stereotypes, not only justified the institution of slavery, they also made it seem like all enslaved people had fun on a southern plantation at holiday time, dancing, singing, laughing and feasting for the holiday season, just as their masters did.

Susan Dabney Smedes, a white girl who grew up on a Mississippi plantation, published a memoir in 1887 called “Memorials of a Southern Planter” that made slave Christmases sound like wonderful times. Smedes wrote about how slaves wore their best clothes for Christmas, played a word game called “Christmas Gif’” with their white enslavers and drank eggnog their master made for them.

In a fictional tale published in the “Century Magazine” in 1911, an enslaved carpenter named Jerry even turns down the freedom that his master offers him on Christmas because he likes his life as a slave so much, and especially the Christmas present his master specially picks out for him each year.

Many of these memoirs and preposterous short stories and novels about happy slave Christmas experiences were so popular that they were republished in new editions over and over again from the late 1800s and early 1900s until, in some cases, the present.

Smedes’s “Memorials of a Southern Planter” was regularly republished for a century after its first appearance.

Many Americans got falsely pleasant images of slavery and especially slave Christmases from reading these works, and these wrongful impressions not only affected how the public thought and still thinks about slavery but, more specifically, how site administrators at southern historic mansions and plantations planned their Christmas programs.

Whipped and sold on Christmas

I read many documents to find out how slaves actually spent their Christmases. The truth is deeply disturbing.

On the one hand, the majority of enslaved people did get some them time off from work during Christmas, as well as feasts and presents. Some got to travel or to get married, privileges that they didn’t get at other times of the year. But these privileges could be withdrawn for any reason at all and many slaves never got them at all.

Slavery was a brutal system of forced labor to enrich those same owners. Even over the holiday, masters kept the power to punish slaves. A photo taken during the Civil War shows a man who was whipped at Christmas. His back was covered with scars, showing that when masters punished the people they held in bondage, they often did so brutally.

There were other cruel forms of punishment. On one South Carolina plantation, a master angry at an enslaved woman he suspected of miscarrying her pregnancy on purpose locked her up for the Christmas holiday.

Masters sometimes forced enslaved workers to get drunk even if they did not want to drink, or wrestle with each other on Christmas simply for the amusement of the master’s family.

ikewise, I learned in my research, slaveholders bought and sold plenty of people over the holiday, keeping slave traders busy during Christmas week.

Escapes and panics over slave rebellions

It is revealing that many enslaved black southerners also chose Christmas as the time to try to escape to freedom, despite the difficulties of traveling in cold weather with few supplies.

The famous black liberator Harriet Tubman, for example, helped her three brothers enslaved in Maryland to escape bondage over Christmas in 1854. Obviously, slaves like the Tubman brothers greatly resented their enslavement, or they would not have agreed to leave.

Evidence shows that many slaveholders knew their slaves hated their condition. Although the U.S. never had a major Christmas slave rebellion, southern whites frequently panicked over frequent rumors that their slaves planned to revolt over the holiday. They armed themselves, conducted extra patrols, banned black people from the streets of cities and executed or whipped slaves whose behavior they thought was suspicious.

Panics over Christmas rebellions took place frequently. They were, at times, confined to a state as in Charleston, South Carolina – then a British colony – in 1765. Or, they could spread in the entire American South, as one did in 1856. As I found in my research, Christmas revolt panics continued all the way through the Civil War.

These panics made Christmas a bad time for many slaves, who passed their Christmases in great fear that they would be rounded up and killed.

What’s changing

Some southern historic plantations and mansions are beginning to include a more accurate history of slavery in their presentations of the past.

Montpelier, the Virginia plantation of U.S. president James Madison and Monticello, the famed mansion and plantation of Thomas Jefferson, for example, have been making efforts for several years now to work more accurate presentations.

Yet another onetime slave-owning president’s preserved site, James Monroe’s Highland, likewise is striving to provide a far more comprehensive look at the enslaved people who once lived there and the conditions they experienced.

There are signs that such changes are taking place elsewhere too. In 2013, for example, the Ben Lomond plantation in Virginia featured in its holiday programming the tale of how enslaved people murdered the place’s owner over Christmas. That same year, Montpelier, once home to President James Madison, asked its interpretors at Christmas to explain to visitors that whites living nearby were afraid of violence by Madison’s slaves.

Christmas programming, however, is changing more slowly than programming at other times of the year. That is because many would like the holiday event to be a fun one.

But a public acknowledgment that slavery was immoral, horrific and resisted by its victims in the form of more sensitive and informative Christmas events at historic mansions and plantations might just be a step toward racial reconciliation in the U.S.

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