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gothhabiba · 12 days

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hey guys, I could use your help with something! Sue is a Black disabled mother, migrant, and PhD student at Newcastle University who urgently needs solidarity. Newcastle University is reporting her to the Home Office in retaliation for her complaint about her abusive supervisor, in full awareness of her Stage 5 kidney disease. this is a life-and-death situation.

here's how you can help:

retweet Unis Resist Border Control's tweet about Sue's abusive situation at the University of Newcastle

sign the open letter to Newcastle University by 22 May

pass a motion with your UCU branch (template here)

donate to help Sue find a kidney donor, apply to Leave to Remain, pay solicitor fees, and cover living costs

Sue's story from the #WeAreAllSue toolkit:

In 2022, Sue Agazie, high-achieving in her field, was promised financial support for her tuition fees through scholarships and paid opportunities and enrolled into the PhD programme at Newcastle University Business School with this understanding. When Sue arrived in the UK in 2023, however, she learned that all of this financial promise was a lie; the scholarships that she had been promised never materialised. Instead, she has gone into horrific debt and is having trouble surviving.

For almost a year, Sue sought financial support for herself and her family, including grants and opportunities that would burnish the reputation of her supervisor and university as a whole. However, in that year, her supervisor not only prevented her from applying to scholarships and paid opportunities, but further controlled her research and day-to-day quality of life, with a high-level of surveillance, inappropriate supervisory practices, and escalating harassment of both her and her family.

These practices include this supervisor repeatedly preventing Sue from taking part in important professional development activities, such as research presentations, within the Business School. He also isolated her from her senior colleagues, forbidding her from attending particular activities they were facilitating, or spreading malicious rumours about them. Further, the primary supervisor repeatedly ignored Sue's pleas for support on funding applications and other opportunities that would alleviate the precarious financial situation into which she had been placed, telling her to “stop sending me links to scholarships”.

This behaviour would culminate in the primary supervisor verbally abusing Sue a number of times, and maligning Sue’s husband, alleging that he has been too lazy to financially support her. These inappropriate supervisory practices belie Newcastle University’s commitment to gender equality under the Athena SWAN Charter, for which it holds a Silver award, and for which the Business School holds a Bronze award.

An environment of terror and retaliation

This environment of surveillance, harassment, and terror has grossly impacted the health of Sue as well as that of her spouse and children. In particular, her kidney condition escalated to stage 5 kidney disease, a severe and terminal illness that causes disablement and time-sensitive, highly-delicate medical needs, during this ordeal. The National Kidney Foundation in the United States indicates that “stress and uncontrolled reactions to stress” can “lead to kidney damage.” These compounding issues have also understandably affected Sue's studies, although she has bravely persisted in her research, meeting important deadlines.

Sue raised these issues using relevant avenues of informal complaint, including her supervisory teams and student support services; there are multiple complaints that have been raised in this department. However, she did not receive sufficient support. Further, her severe health issues were not treated with the urgency and importance that they deserved. In October and November 2023, Sue's supervisor accused her of allegedly plagiarising his work in what Sue sees as a malicious act of retaliation and victimisation over her informal complaint, and an attempt to sabotage her reputation not just at Newcastle University, but to prestigious global networks. Following all of this mistreatment, Sue filed a formal complaint against her supervisor in February 2024.

Newcastle University is closing ranks

The university came back to Sue on 5 March 2024 with its response, alleging that she had fabricated the complaint against her supervisor in retaliation for his accusations of research misconduct against her, painting this vulnerable, disabled African student as a malicious liar. The supervisor even denies the relevance of her terminal illness and implicates her young child's behaviour in his response, while maintaining that her terminal illness "has nothing to do with her studies or work pressure here". Sue maintains: “During the time that I was supervised by the primary PhD supervisor, he neither kept in regular communication about my disability nor did he signpost me to relevant services within and outside of Newcastle University that could help me. It is dangerous for the primary supervisor to maintain that my disability would not have affected my studies. His comments show a gross level of disability discrimination that does not befit the reputation that Newcastle University seeks to cultivate as an inclusive place.”

Now, the university is claiming that Sue is not "engaging" sufficiently with the programme, and is threatening to report her to the Home Office, despite a written promise in January 2024 that her status would be unaffected due to the ongoing complaint process, and full knowledge of her terminal stage 5 kidney failure. Adding more insult to injury, Newcastle University Accommodation Service has been hounding Sue for rent arrears, even though they know she is critically ill and in a complaint with the university, surviving with the support of Food & Solidarity. Sue has pleaded with the university’s Accommodation Service for a rent freeze, indicating her urgent health complications and her complaint underway with the university. In all correspondences, the Accommodation Service has ignored Sue’s pleas for clemency. There is real fear that the Accommodation Service will evict Sue, her husband and their child. This will, no doubt, cause real precarity to Sue’s already fragile health condition.

We are appalled that the Newcastle University Business School is utilising obvious misogynoirist tropes to close ranks around a disabled Black migrant student who has been treated horribly, and weaponising her precarious migrant status against her as she attempts to seek justice. We are also aware that Sue is not the only student in this situation and that there have been other complaints in this department. It is a stark illustration of the pernicious institutional racism at Russell Group universities that a disabled Black migrant woman with caring responsibilities has been treated this way not only by a supervisor, but by the institution, as well as the abject way these universities instrumentalise migrant students from the Global South as sources of income that they can afterwards dispose of.

Sue maintains that this ordeal has not diminished her resolve to complete her PhD studies at Newcastle University Business School. She says, “I want to finish my PhD research. But for that to happen, Newcastle University must provide the necessary support for a disabled student in a non-abusive environment. I hope that the university listens to me and we can come to a resolution on this matter soon.”

#WeAreAllSue #ableism #misogynoir #academia

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immediatebreakfast · 1 year

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I think it's also notable that her expectations for marriage is "the stenography and typing skills I'm cultivating will be useful for work!" instead of more typical housewife skills and having children immediately. It's 1897 and she can't have a career while married, but she's trying to juggle both.

She wants a partnership with Jonathan as her top priority!

Exactly! This is a noteworthy detail that really establishes a lot of Mina's characteristics for the whole novel.

Mina wants to marry Jonathan, she loves him with all of her heart, but her priorities in this future marriage are quite different from one may expect from a lady of that time.

Instead of writing to Lucy about the transition from schoolmistress to housewife, Mina talks about typewrites and shorthand, and training herself like lady journalists (👀), so she can become adept in basically documenting information (👀!!!!).

Why is Mina doing all of this? Because she intends to work alongside Jonathan in his solicitor job. Since lawyering is a profession with a lot of paperwork, then Mina decides to cultivate similar skills as much as she can in order to take charge of that part of the job.

It's incredible how, while she is sad for leaving her current job, Mina isn't lamenting that she can't work because she is (correctly) expecting to work with Jonathan. Housewife skills, home care, and children are last things in her mind. Mina is ready for marriage life, and all of the stuff that comes when you, and your spouse are working in the same space.

#If Jonathan is a damsel guess who is his knight? c:#Mina is just amazing everyone should congratulate her for existing #dracula daily #dracula #mina murray

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thethirdromana · 2 years

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Dracula characters based on how likely they would be to eat a worm

Jack Seward There’s scarcely anyone in this story more likely to eat a worm than Jack Seward. As an experiment? Yeah, sure. When he was bullied at school? Almost certainly. Because a somewhat overbearing father figure suggested it? Without question. This man has eaten a worm before and he would do so again.

Arthur Holmwood Arthur is the son of a Lord, the Victorian 1%, one of the most wealthy and privileged individuals in one of the most wealthy and privileged countries in the world. Until the events of the novel, do we think Arthur Holmwood, future Lord Godalming, ever had to do anything he didn’t want to? Even in the horrors of the Victorian public school system, rank has its privileges. He would not eat a worm.

Quincey Morris An adventurous type like Quincey? He wouldn’t just eat a worm, he’d fry it in a little butter and cayenne pepper and do his best to enjoy it.

Lucy Westenra as a human I was going to say absolutely not. Surely she would be horrified at the very idea. But equally, Lucy is by far the biggest people-pleaser in the whole novel [edited to redact unreasonable slander of Jonathan Harker]. If she thought eating a worm would make someone she loved happy, she’d dig right in.

Lucy Westenra as the Bloofer Lady Small children have been known to eat worms, and Lucy has been known to eat small children. So indirectly, yes, she would eat a worm.

Jonathan Harker It strikes me that we don’t know much about the eating habits of any of the characters in this novel – for instance, we know which pub Jack Seward likes, but not what he eats when he’s there.

But we have a wealth of information about Jonathan, and we know he is the kind of man who will have an unfamiliar paprika dish for dinner, have “queer dreams”, then go down for breakfast and have even more paprika.

Jonathan Harker would eat a worm.

Mina Harker née Murray Mina would do anything for her friends and loved ones, and that includes eating a worm. But come on guys, really? You would force Mina to eat a worm after everything she’s been through? You monsters.

Van Helsing Van Helsing thinks astral projection is real and parrots live forever. He’s the first person to consider the possibility that Lucy is being vampired. This man has the most open mind in the entire novel. He is a deeply weird individual and he would definitely eat a worm.

Mrs Westenra Mrs Westenra is a respectable Victorian lady of the upper-middle or upper-classes, and under no circumstances would she eat a worm.

Unless it was the last-ditch treatment for her ailing daughter, I guess.

Dracula You know the song you might have sung as a kid – “nobody likes me, everybody hates me, think I’ll go and eat worms?”

We know Dracula eats solicitors and Lucys, he doesn’t eat worms. But he should.

Renfield Do I even need to answer this one?

#dracula daily

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blurredcolour · 4 months

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I Wish You Love | Part Five

I Wish You Love Masterlist

Lewis Nixon x Housemaid!Female Reader

You and Lewis make the most of your time together before he returns to America to do his best to free himself to spend his future at your side.

Warnings: Angst, Class Divide, Discussion of Divorce, Lots of Kissing, Sexual Tension and Innuendos, Language, Smoking, Alcohol Consumption, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: I am a lying liar who lies - there are now six parts because Lewis and his darling do not know how to leave me alone. Reader's nationality is British and liberties have been taken in describing her background and family life for the sake of plot. No physical descriptions or y/n used. A good portion of this fic will be letter-based. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 5393

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Returning home shortly before noon the next day, you could not help the fond shake of your head to see Lewis’s borrowed car already parked at the curb outside your flat building. The lovely, impatient man was early, of course. Early enough to see you tired, sweaty, and underdressed once again. You wanted to be annoyed with him, yet you could not find it within yourself to summon any emotion other than amused affection. Stepping into the building, you were in the process of fishing your keys from your handbag when a stunningly familiar voice carrying through the door halted your movements.

“And so that was your plan all along?”

Johnny. Your twin brother, physically absent from your life, existing only in intermittent letters, for years. Much longer than the just war, with your mutual need for employment to support your father had driven you both from home in 1934. A lot was made of some sort of intuition that was supposed to exist between twins, that as they had shared a womb, they surely shared a lot more, but his return home today was a complete shock that had you frozen in place in the hall. The next words out of his mouth did nothing to encourage you to proceed inside.

“You’ve permitted a married man to seduce your daughter, your sweet pea.” He spat, an unfamiliar ugliness in his tone. The comment was certainly directed at your father, but Lewis was undoubtedly in the room, and he confirmed your supposition as he spoke up.

“I would ask you not to insult your sister’s honor, it has been, and remains, utterly unimpeachable.”

“Bloody hell you sure speak like one of them…”

“Johnathon you will mind your tongue. I understand that you have lived differently for quite some time now, but I will not tolerate that sort of language or disrespect in this home.”

Your eyes widened as you heard your father raise his voice, something that happened so infrequently that you could count the sum total of such occasions on the fingers of your own two hands.

“I am quite satisfied,” Your father continued, “with the correspondence between Captain Nixon and his solicitor. I find his intentions for your sister, my daughter, to be completely honourable and I thoroughly encourage them. She has never been happier, Johnny, and if you cannot manage to smile for her when she comes through that door any moment now then you’d better go for a walk until you find a way to.”

Tensing at the thought of your brother angrily storming out of the flat, and right into you, you crept backwards and down the hall toward the stairs leading up to the higher floors, obscuring yourself behind the landing to wait. To see if he was indeed so against the idea of you being happy with Lewis that he would rob you of a reunion with him then. You waited nearly five minutes, which felt like an eternity, until you heard Mrs. Stokes and her herd of children leaving their flat a few stories up, tromping down the staircase towards your hiding place. Johnny had remained inside, there had been no further shouting – at least none that you could hear at this distance.

Taking a fortifying breath, you pulled your keys from your handbag and headed into the apartment, smiling softly as your father and Lewis were chatting in the sitting room. “Good afternoon you two.”

“Well look at you, sis.” Johnny spoke from the doorway to the kitchen, and it was not hard to present a face of shock, for in place of a gangly sixteen-year-old boy, there was a rugged twenty-five-year-old man standing there, grinning at you.

“Johnny!?” You gasped, dropping your handbag as you rushed forward to hug him, squealing as he hauled you off your feet, his time with the 78th Infantry having made him unspeakably strong.

“Blimey you really have gone yellow haven’t you.” He teased and you smacked him affectionately as he set you back on the ground gently. “I’ve heard it goes away after a few months, don’t get your you-know-what’s in a twist.”

“Can we please stop talking about my underclothes and talk about when you got home?” You glanced at Lewis, feeling rather embarrassed to have your knickers discussed in front of him, but he was smiling warmly, unfazed.

“This morning on the first train from London. I gather we’re going out for dinner later?”

“Absolutely, I am looking forward to taking all three of you out together.” Lewis nodded firmly and you smiled at him fondly, vaguely aware of your brother’s scrutinizing gaze upon your face in your periphery.

“We were going to go out for the afternoon, but you just got back and–”

“Go on sis, I hear he’s only in town a few days and you’ll have to put up with me for a lot longer than that. Go have fun, I’ll see you for dinner.”

Hugging him tightly once more, you then kissed Lewis’s cheek quickly before going to get changed into something suitable for a drive and a picnic before the pair of you made your way out to the car, leaving your brother and father to catch up.

“You two look nothing alike you know, I’d never have guessed that you were twins…” Lewis teased as he opened the car door for you.

“That’s what fraternal means – not identical.” You shook your head fondly, hesitating a moment, an apology for your brother’s behaviour dangling on the tip of your tongue.

“Well either way, he loves you very much and that’s all I could ask for on your behalf.” He nodded, eyes widening as you grabbed his face and kissed him soundly, your heart swelling almost painfully inside your ribcage.

His hands planted on your hips, holding tightly but letting you direct the kiss, lips parting compliantly at the tentative swipe of your tongue against his bottom lip. Losing your nerve, particularly in full view of the front window of the flat, you stopped short of sliding your tongue to his, but still felt a rush of pride tingle through you at the ruddy hue to his cheeks as you pulled back from his mouth.

“I’m not entirely certain what I did to earn that but…you’re welcome.” He grinned cockily and your jaw dropped at his impertinence before you laughed brightly, shaking your head as you slid into the car, happy to leave him wondering.

Glancing at the backseat, you raised an eyebrow curiously at the picnic basket and blankets there, wondering just what Lewis had planned for the afternoon.

“No peeking.” He smirked, sliding his arm around your waist to pull you close across the bench seat once he’d started the car, pulling his hand back to shift the car into gear.

“Might I know where we are going?” You asked curiously, resting your chin on his shoulder to look at him playfully as he headed down the lane.

“I thought I might show you where I lived while I was in England – well not the actual house, we’ve given it back to the Wills family, but the town.”

“I’d like that very much.” You nodded firmly, turning to look out the windshield as he headed out on the road out of town.

“We will have to drive past Lydiard, unless you’d like me to take the long way?” He glanced at you, and you shook your head quickly.

“No, it’s alright, I suppose I will eventually pass it at some point, I’d much rather it be with you.”

His hand squeezed your knee affectionately, fingers lingering on your bare skin when he found no interfering stockings until he was forced to employ it again in changing gears as he sped up as you left Swindon behind. You had somewhat bemoaned the difficulty related to finding stockings lately, but as his fingertips idly caressed the side of your knee, suddenly you really didn’t mind very much at all.

As the pair of you drove past the tree-lined drive leading towards Lydiard House, you swallowed to see a series of guards posted at the road, finding the sight altogether unwelcoming and eliminating any last bit of nostalgia you may have felt for the place you had called home for a decade.

“I would bet it feels an awful lot like a prison for the St Johns and the rest of the staff, too.” Lewis muttered and you nodded quickly.

“I have to say I certainly do not miss working fifteen hours a day. Free time in the evenings, it’s been quite a revelation.”

Lewis grinned at you softly, squeezing his hand that had promptly returned to your knee. “I told you that you were much better suited to this life.”

“You did, yes. Thank you.” You pressed a careful kiss to his cheek, paying closer attention to your surroundings as you neared Aldbourne, a town you’d rarely had occasion to visit previously.

Lewis took you on a small tour, pointing out the Nissen huts, or Quonsets as he called them, where the enlisted men had stayed before swinging by Littlecote House where he had been billeted. He regaled you with funny stories from training and that one time his closest friend Dick had been forced to upend his mattress to get him out of bed after a very intense night of celebration. Circling back to the centre of the village, he parked in front of a small bakery, opposite the village green.

“We just need to pick up our dessert and then we’ll be ready for lunch?”

You nodded warmly, sliding out of the car with him as he led you into the shop. It smelled positively divine inside, all sorts of sweets in the display cases.

“I’m here to pick up an order for Nixon?” Lewis smiled and the girl behind the counter looked up with wide eyes.

“Leftenant! We didn’t think we’d see any of you boys back here again.” She smiled up at him brightly, fairly batting her eyelashes at him.

“Just wanted to be sure my girl had a chance to try the best lardy cake in all of England.” He smiled smoothly, looking to you warmly.

Swallowing tightly, you could not help but notice the way the girl’s face fell as he tugged you closer.

“Anything you’d think your father and brother would like as a souvenir of our travels?”

Normally you would have refused, been stubborn and reticent in the face of his generosity, but there was something about the way the girl was throwing daggers at you as she retrieved a box with his name on it from under the counter that emboldened you.

“Perhaps a few imperial cookies?” You looked up at him hopefully and he rewarded you with a quick peck to the cheek.

“A dozen of the imperial cookies as well please.”

“Of course, leftentant.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting the impulse to correct her sharply as you felt rather territorial about that title – more precisely that pronunciation of that title. You waited quietly as she packed a box of the cookies and Lewis paid the total. You were more than a little relieved to say your goodbyes and leave the shop, baked goods in hand, and retrieve the picnic supplies from the car.

“Can I help you carry something?”

Lewis paused a moment before passing you the blankets, taking the boxes from the bakery and the rather heavy looking basket himself.

“You know I packed artillery shells for the past seven months, I am not helpless.” You teased as you followed him across the street onto the village green.

“Just because you can, darling, doesn’t mean you are expected to.” He replied with a smirk, waiting for you to unfurl the blankets on the ground before the pair of you settled in.

“So long as you remember that I am not helpless, Lewis.” You replied firmly, watching him unearth several packets of sandwiches, some fruit, and a bottle of lemonade from the basket along with glasses to drink from.

“I assure you I would never dream of considering you helpless. After all you rescued a drowning dog from a lake while wearing a full-length dress.” He grinned, popping the seal on the bottle to fill you a glass. “Climbed the highlands to procure me heather and grouse feathers, poured TNT and lifted artillery shells, served a certain honorable without murdering her for her deplorable behavior…” His tone had started off teasing but as he set the glass in your outstretched hand his face grew serious. “No darling, if anything I really quite admire you.”

Ducking your head shyly you took a sip of the tart liquid, enjoying the way it sparkled on your tongue. The pair of you picnicked happily in the sunshine, demolishing most of the sandwiches and fruit before Lewis unboxed the cake.

“The best in England, you say?” You grinned, peering at it curiously.

“Well, all of us in the 506th would certainly say that, but I wonder what a real Englishwoman will say.” He smirked, using a knife from the picnic basket to cut a slice, holding it out for you to take a bite.

Looking to his expectant face before glancing back down at the outstretched piece of cake, you leaned in to take a bite, holding your hand in front of your mouth as you sat up to chew thoughtfully. As the flavour of it spread across your tongue, you began to nod happily.

“Oh wow, that’s probably the best I’ve ever eaten as well.” You agreed once you swallowed your mouthful.

Lewis beamed happily before taking the next bite from the piece still in his grasp, leaning back onto his forearm lazily as you prepped another slice for yourself, trying not to spend too long drinking in the length of his body in such an enticing pose. Looking around the village square instead, you smiled.

“It’s so peaceful now, I can only imagine the havoc you all wreaked.” You laughed softly and he chuckled.

“Havoc is an excellent choice of word, darling…”

After you’d both eaten your fill, you carefully packed up the remnants into the basket, setting the bakery boxes aside to take home for your father and Johnny to have a go at them. The shadows began to creep across the grass and a glance at your utilitarian wristwatch told you it was nearly four-thirty. Lewis suddenly sat up, drawing your gaze as he fidgeted slightly before shifting closer to you.

“Darling I…know I can’t make as much of a fuss about this as I’d like to but… We’ve been talking an awful lot about the future and what it might look like, and it would be a mistake if I didn’t make it official. Or as official as I am able, at this point.”

You held your breath, focusing intently as you did your best to hear him over the rushing of blood in your ears.

“Would you do me the honor of wearing this ring as a promise of my intention to marry you?” He produced a velvet box from his pocket, opening the lid to reveal a ring very much to your taste, not too many stones, in the metal of your choice, showing just how closely he had been paying attention to your preferences yesterday.

“Lewis…” You exhaled in awe and looked to him, eyes wide with wonder. “Yes…I of course…” You smiled, finding your eyes suddenly blurred by tears as he pulled you into his warm embrace.

“I thought…you’d maybe want to wear it on your right hand and then…when I get the divorce finalized, I’ll write you right away and then you can put it on your left, like a proper engagement ring.” He murmured against your cheek, and you smiled so broadly it made your jaw ache.

“I love you so very much, Lewis Nixon.” You shifted back to kiss him warmly, sighing against his lips as his fingers slid up your neck to cup your jaw.

“I love you too, darling.” He replied once you’d parted for breath, and he plucked the ring from its box to slide it onto the fourth finger of your right hand. “This is only the beginning.”

If only you’d known how seriously Lewis would take that statement. The baked goods immediately followed by a lavish dinner went a long way to easing your brother’s concerns and then all too soon Lewis had to return to France for his boat home. It was exceedingly difficult to see him go, though it was a relief to know you that, at least this time, you were not sending him off to combat.

It was not long after his departure, however, that your father began to receive regular wire transfers to cover rent and other necessities. Your father feigned innocence, though you did not believe him for one moment, as Lewis would not have known the necessary sum otherwise. You took to a letter to chastise Lewis, albeit lovingly.

While his subsequent responses acknowledged your wishes, they also cleverly shifted the focus to seeking your approval of potential homes and venues for your inevitable nuptials. It was late January of 1946 when a large trunk arrived by courier when you finally received the news you had been long awaiting. Johnny was at work, your father at the pub. You were enjoying a rare moment at home alone after finishing work for the day, having kept a small roster of clients to accumulate pocket money to spend on previously frivolous things like skin care and hair cuts.

Signing the receipt slip, you had the delivery man set it in the living room before kneeling to open it, gasping at the neatly folded piles of clothing contained within. Laying atop were two envelopes, one letter-sized and another legal-sized. You quickly retrieved the letter, assuming it would contain the most explanation, and sliced it open with your trusty butter knife.

It was fortunate that you were the only one at home, for the childish squeal you let out as you fell onto the sofa would have been a mortifying thing for anyone else to witness. Fumbling slightly, fingers made clumsy with glee, you took the ring from your right hand and quickly slid it onto your left where it truly belonged, holding it up to admire it proudly. Glancing at the watch on the same wrist, you sat up, realizing you still had time to send your reply and grabbed your handbag and overcoat, dashing out the door and down the lane to the post office.

It took a bit of explanation from the clerk, it being your first telegram after all, but you managed to condense your words to keep the entire process affordable.

The next few weeks were a flurry of activity, with Lewis’s reply arriving by cable the next day that he would be in London mid-February. You employed the services of a local seamstress, as ordered, to have your trousseau properly fitted. Lewis proved yet again that he had paid attention, having sent a few dresses and ensembles in ivory and white to choose from – and mercifully nothing so ostentatious as a full wedding gown. You were able to give ample notice to your clients and you’d already procured a passport – thankfully you’d started that process in September of the previous year. Using your accumulated ration coupons, you purchased a swimming costume and an irresistibly fine nightgown for your wedding night.

It felt like no time at all before the three of you were stepping into the suite at the Ritz that Lewis had reserved for you to get ready for your wedding that evening, and the rest of your family to stay the night before returning to Swindon on the morning train while the pair of you headed out on your honeymoon. You were startled to find a young woman waiting for you there.

“Good afternoon miss, sirs. My name is Sara. Mr. Nixon has sent me to assist you in getting ready. He asked me to give you this before you could protest.” She held out an envelope of telltale Ritz stationery and you took it with a fond sigh, following her into the room where the bellhop deposited your trunk.

Huffing in bemused annoyance, you quickly turned your attention back to Sara, working with her to hang up your outfit for the impending ceremony before looking over the selection of ‘decorations.’ Lewis had sent several sets of jewelry for you to choose from and after some deliberation you eventually settled on one before submitting yourself to Sara’s talents as she saw to your hair. Mercifully, all rumours had proven true, and the yellow hue had vanished from your skin and hair, returning you to your normal appearance. Your diligent use of skin care had also gone a long way to soften the callouses of your work-roughened hands and by the time Sara was through with you, you almost didn’t recognize yourself.

Stepping out to where Johnny and your father were waiting in their new suits, purchased with a hoarding of ration coupons and Johnny’s excellent wages from his new post at the Great Western Railway, the three of you gawked openly at one another.

“Well, we certainly clean up nice, aye?” Your father grinned.

“You look pretty as a picture, sis.” Johnny grinned and pulled you in for a hug just as Sara hurried out with a small bouquet of white roses.

“Don’t forget these, miss. Your car to the embassy is waiting downstairs.”

You took it carefully and smiled to her. “Thank you so very much for your assistance, Sara, I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, my pleasure miss.” She blushed prettily, bowing her head shyly. “I’ll see to it that your trunk is moved to Mr. Nixon’s suite with the rest of your luggage. Congratulations.”

You parted with your thanks before heading downstairs, trying not to roll your eyes when you found the waiting car was a Rolls Royce. You really might have to murder him at the end of that aisle. Climbing in carefully, the three of you drove to number one Grosvenor Square, the address of the American Embassy. It had been Lewis’s idea of course, and only possible given that he personally knew the ambassador Mr. Harriman.

It was his hope that it would ease your immigration to the United States, to be technically married on American soil, while still being able to have Johnny and your father in attendance. The building was rather imposing as you climbed out of the car, thanking the driver as he held the door, not at all what you would have imagined for your wedding. Then again, you’d never imagined marrying an American divorcé set to inherit a great fortune one day, either.

Surrendering your coats to one of the ambassadorial staff, you took a moment to compose yourself as Johnny stepped into the reception room, nodding to your father when you were ready before the doors were opened and you made slow progress down the aisle, allowing for the extra time it took him to manipulate his prosthetic leg with each step. You were pleased Lewis had chosen a smaller room, there were not that many people in attendance, really just the ambassador and his wife, your small family, and Lewis and yourself. But as you walked down the short aisle towards the man waiting for you in black tie with the officiant at his side you were certain nothing had ever been more perfect in your entire life.

Your father shook Lewis’s hand before giving you a quick peck on the cheek, ambling over to his chair as Lewis took your arm in turn. He leaned in to whisper warmly in your ear.

“You look incredible, darling.”

Swallowing tightly, you whispered back. “You are lucky there are too many witnesses to commit manslaughter here.”

He barely contained his laughter.

The ceremony was sweet and simple. The signing of the licence took a little extra time as you also completed your immigration application at the same time, with his excellency Mr. Harriman signing as a sponsor – a breathtaking honour which you were quite certain you would never be able to fully process. Lewis had also clearly bought the wedding bands at the same time as the engagement ring as they all looked quite smart next to one another once placed on your respective fingers.

The intensity of Lewis’s eyes on yours as the officiant pronounced you man and wife had you feeling rather apprehensive of the kiss he was about the lay on you, a kiss you were admittedly no less desperate for after nearly six months, but reticent to share in front of an audience. To your surprise, and slight disappointment, it was a soft and utterly appropriate kiss that only left you wanting more as the small group of attendees applauded your finally-accomplished-union.

Bestowing the bouquet upon the ambassador’s wife insistently, in gratitude, you finally allowed Lewis to pull you down to the separate car waiting to take the pair of you back to the hotel where the four of you would celebrate in a private dining room. The driver had barely closed the door before Lewis was pulling you close, at last delivering the thorough conquering of your mouth you had been yearning for as you clung to his coat, not wanting to ruin his styled hair.

“I have missed you far too much, darling.” He whispered against your lips as the driver pulled the car into traffic. “How will I ever repay your patience with me?”

“Do not remind me of balances and things owing, Lewis, I’m in a good mood.” You teased fondly. “You will meet my rage tomorrow when we’re stuck on a boat together for days on end. Tonight is for celebration only.”

He responded with a lopsided grin as his gaze traversed your face, expression fading slowly to one of seriousness before he kissed you fiercely once more, hands sliding dangerously close to your carefully pinned hair. You pulled back quickly with a pout.

“You can ruin that later.” You panted a little and he pressed his face against the crook of your shoulder.

“I will ruin more than your hair later.” He spoke, breath skating along your skin, making you shudder for many reasons. “Darling, are you certain this is not your murder plot unfurling right before my eyes?” He lifted his eyes to look up at you with a pained expression, your fingers reaching out to cup his cheek sympathetically as the car pulled up outside the hotel.

Summoning the strength to compose yourselves as the driver came around to open the door, you stepped out carefully and took Lewis’s arm to head inside, rather enjoying the way people glanced at the pair of you approvingly.

A small feast of beef wellington, Victoria sponge, and tea with milk and sugar – among other delights – awaited you all back at the Ritz. Lewis was barely able to keep his hands from ensnaring yours, his knee from pressing against your thigh, from feeding you bites of food proudly. He did an amiable job of getting to know Johnny better this time despite his distraction, the previous adversarial tension having evaporated from your brother with the arrival of the divorce decree several weeks ago. Lewis took great interest in Johnny’s employment and the topic of conversation devolved into a rather intense debate about railways…even as Lewis began to pull the hem of your dress higher beneath the tablecloth with tantalizingly bold fingertips. Eventually your father dragged a very stuffed and well-liquored Johnny off to bed, freeing the two of you from the obligation of entertaining them any longer at which point Lewis lifted your left hand to press a kiss to the rings on your finger.

“Well, Mrs. Nixon.”

You smiled shyly, but delightedly, to hear your new title from his lips. “Well, Mr. Nixon.”

“Fait accompli. At last.”

Nodding warmly, you leaned in to kiss him gently, giggling as he tasted of icing sugar and strawberry jam from his last bite of cake. “We should let them in here to clean up.”

“Are you propositioning me, Mrs. Nixon?” He teased as he stood, sliding his arm around your waist as you stood in turn.

“No!” You squeaked in self-defence, though you were more than a little enticed by his earlier promises from the car.

“Then allow me to proposition you, I would very much like to see what you’re wearing underneath this lovely outfit.”

“Mr. Nixon!” You feigned shock even as you pulled him out of the private dining room to head up to your shared suite.

--------------------------

Read Part Six

I Wish You Love Masterlist

Tag list: @ronsparky, @fuckoffthanos, @bcon24, @gretagerwigsmuse

#lewis nixon x reader #lewis nixon imagines #lewis nixon imagine #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #hbo war fic #lewis nixon #band of brothers #easy company

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aziraphales-library · 2 months

Note

heya! i was wondering if you have any fics where crowley and aziraphale go to disney/a theme park/a festival of sorts? just them being human and enjoying its pleasantries

thank you for all you do for this fandom!

Hi! Here are some theme park fics...

Mouse Ears by stillmellow (G)

Aziraphale and Crowley have a wonderful day, in the most magical place on Earth. Well, by American standards, anyway.

happily ever after by Waywarder (T)

“Oh, all right,” Aziraphale threw his hands up in the air, having been found out. “I was certain you’d never agree to come under honest pretenses, but my dear, it’s supposed to be the Happiest Place on Earth!” Anthony J. Crowley, as we all know, was an actual, literal Demon. He’d spent time in actual, literal Hell. As he stood there beneath the scorching Florida sun, surrounded by noisy, sticky children, balloons and cartoon characters around every corner… Perhaps he’d never really known Hell after all. I... I sent the boys to a one-off at Disney World. Have fun!

happy together by vtforpedro (G)

In which Aziraphale and Crowley visit Disneyland.

Disney Bound by KaytheJay (G)

Aziraphale plans a secret Disney trip for Crowley.

Big Spooky Fan, Me by Everchanging_Cryptid (G)

Aziraphale surprises Crowley with a trip to Cedar Point Halloweekends after Crowley became hyperfixated on it.

Fell's Lands of Wonder by journeytogallifrey (T)

Theme park owner and visionary Aziraphale Fell dwells at the top of the sorcerer’s tower in the middle of Fell’s Lands of Wonder, somewhere between the superhero training academy, the crashed alien spaceship, the alchemist’s workshop, and the animatronic dinosaurs. When solicitor Crowley is sent to broker a deal with Fell, he is quickly swept into a world of magic where anything can happen. But his employers have sinister intentions, and he’s sure there is no possibility for a happy ending. Fell has his sights set on Crowley, and he always gets what he wants. By the end of the day, Fell is sure he can win him over. And if his ambitions stretch beyond a business deal… who can blame him? After all, what’s more wondrous than love at first sight?

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #theme park #mod d

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lexlawuk · 1 year

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Success Story: Child Student Visa

Our Immigration Team has recently been successful in securing a child Student Visa for our client (“the Applicant”). The applicant had a previous rejection on the basis that he presented a fraudulent birth certificate, which under paragraph 9.8.1 in Part 9 of the Immigration Rules, provides for an automatic 10 year ban. We were subsequently instructed and made strong legal representations for the…

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#Children #High Net Worth Immigration #Home Office #Immigration Policy #Student Visa #UK Immigration #UK Immigration Solicitors/ Lawyers #UK Tier 2 Visa

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bitterkarella · 1 year

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Midnight Pals: Legally Binding

JK Rowling: hello children Poe: oh Poe: joanne Rowling: I want to invite you all to hear my ssspecial podcassst appearance Poe: oh god Barker: what’s it called Rowling: it’s called ‘the witch trialsss of jk rowling’ Barker: ah hahaha

Rowling: ssssee, it referssss to the fact that I wrote a book about witchesss Rowling: but also, like historical witchesss, I have been unfairly persecuted Barker: damn did you think of that yourself Rowling: I’ve been workssshopping it for a while

Rowling: it’sss come to my attention Rowling: that you lot have been criticizing me Barker: damn what gave you that impression Poe: clive Barker: real big brain moments here Poe: clive

Rowling: for too long, I’ve been silenced Rowling: now it’s time for ME to do the ssssilencing Rowling: with the most POWERFUL spell of all King: oh no! the killing curse! Rowling: NO Rowling: WORSE Rowling: [handing legal papers to King] you have been sssilenced

Rowling: [hanging legal papers to Poe] you have been sssilenced Poe: what’s this Rowling: papers from my solicitor Rowling: that’s a lawyer by the way Poe: I know what that is

Rowling: these paperssss legally prohibit you from making fun of me Poe: what’s this red stain? Spaghetti sauce? Rowling: jusssst ignore that Barker: ahahah Rowling: I’v got papersss for you too clive Barker: oh this is some bullshit

Rowling: it’s time that everyone heard MY side of the story King: what’s your side of the story? Rowling: my side is Rowling: “golly I’m just a simple childrens writer golly” King: oh wow she makes a good point Poe: no she doesn’t steve King: but she’s just a simple- Poe: steve

Rowling: now that you’ve all received letters from my solicitor Rowling: no one is ever allowed to make fun of me again Mary Shelley: hey I been looking through these papers Shelley: and funny thing, I don’t see any anti-shiv clause in here Rowling: Barker: oh damn joanne that’s a big oversight Rowling: for too long the transsss have allowed to post freely Rowling: but who’s telling my ssside of the sssstory? Rowling: besides the entire British media establishment

#midnight pals #midnight society #the midnight society #jk rowling #edgar allan poe #stephen king #clive barker #mary shelley

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kemetic-dreams · 1 year

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First Afro-American ran for US President

“George Edwin Taylor ran for president a long time before Barack Obama.”

“Born in the pre-Civil War South to a mother who was free and a father who was enslaved, George Edwin Taylor would become the first African American selected by a political party to be its candidate for the presidency of the United States.

Taylor was born on August 4, 1857 in Little Rock, Arkansas to Amanda Hines and Bryant (Nathan) Taylor. At the age of two, George Taylor moved with his mother from Arkansas to Illinois. When Amanda died a few years later, George fended for himself until arriving in Wisconsin by paddleboat in 1865. Raised in and near La Crosse by a politically active African family, he attended Wayland University in Beaver Dam, Wisconsin from 1877 to 1879, after which he returned to La Crosse where he went to work for the La Crosse Free Press and then the La Crosse Evening Star. During the years 1880 to 1885 he produced newspaper columns for local papers as well as articles for the Chicago Inter Ocean.

Taylor's newspaper work brought him into politics--especially labor politics. He sided with one of the competing labor factions in La Crosse and helped re-elect the pro-labor mayor, Frank "White Beaver" Powell, in 1886. In the months that followed, Taylor became a leader and office holder in Wisconsin's statewide Union Labor Party, and his own newspaper, the Wisconsin Labor Advocate, became one of the newspapers of the party.

In 1887 Taylor was a member of the Wisconsin delegation to the first national convention of the Union Labor Party, which met in Ohio in April, and refocused his newspaper on national political issues. As his prominence increased, his race became an issue, and Taylor responded to the criticism by increasingly writing about African American issues. Sometime in 1887 or 1888 his paper ceased publication.

In 1891 Taylor moved to Oskaloosa, Iowa where he continued his interest in politics, first in the Republican Party and then with the Democrats. While in Iowa Taylor owned and edited the Negro Solicitor, and became president of the National Colored Men's Protective Association (an early civil rights organization) and the National Negro Democratic League, an organization of Africans within the Democratic Party. From 1900 to 1904 he aligned himself with the Populist faction that attempted to reform the Democratic Party.

Taylor and other independent-minded African Americans in 1904 joined the first national political party created exclusively for and by Africans, the National Liberty Party (NLP). The Party met at its national convention in St. Louis, Missouri in 1904 with delegates from thirty-six states. When the Party's candidate for president ended up in an Illinois jail, the NLP Executive Committee approached Taylor, asking him to be the party's candidate.

While Taylor's campaign attracted little attention, the Party's platform had a national agenda: universal suffrage regardless of race; Federal protection of the rights of all citizens; Federal anti-lynching laws; additional African regiments in the U.S. Army; Federal pensions for all former slaves; government ownership and control of all public carriers to ensure equal accommodations for all citizens; and home rule for the District of Columbia.

Taylor's presidential race was quixotic. In an interview published in The Sun (New York, November 20, 1904), he observed that while he knew whites thought his candidacy was a "joke," he believed that an independent political party that could mobilize the African American vote was the only practical way that blacks could exercise political influence. On election day, Taylor received a scattering of votes.

The 1904 campaign was Taylor's last foray into politics. He remained in Iowa until 1910 when he moved to Jacksonville. There he edited a succession of newspapers and was director of the African American branch of the local YMCA. He was married three times but had no children. George Edwin Taylor died in Jacksonville on December 23, 1925.”

Above written source=

George Edwin Taylor - 2014 - Question of the Month - Jim Crow Museum

The Brother tried and I knew all the Afro-Americans couldn't vote for him because voter suppression .

#george edwin taylor #african #afrakan #kemetic dreams #brownskin #afrakans #africans #brown skin #african culture #barack obama #african president #politics

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smallgodseries · 2 years

Photo

[image description: Three adorable dark-eyed trick-or-treaters — one vaguely human, one vaguely doggish, and one vaguely pumpkinny — in a watercolor style. Text reads “SNACK RACKLE AND PUP, the small gods of GIFTS FROM STRANGERS, 236”]

• • • • •

They’re a lot stronger now than they used to be, in this age of Internet wish lists and gifts from strangers that can show up at your doorstep at any time. They walk the world all year round, enjoying the change of the seasons, learning about the things they never got to see before. They don’t expect this phase to last forever. Phases never do. And they reserve their true passion and promise for Halloween.

Rackle is the Small God of Baby Showers and First Birthday Parties in their spare time. They have no limbs or sharp edges that could hurt an infant, after all, and being chewed on is somewhat in their job description. Some people find it odd for a Halloween god to be associated so strongly with infancy, but Rackle is always glad to explain, when people ask them:

“To a baby, everyone’s a stranger, even their own parents. They don’t know anyone or anything, and they have no fear when someone they don’t know offers them an object. Why should they? They would be nothing but fear all the time. Instead, they are pure joy, receiving the good gifts of the world, and if that isn’t the seed of trick or treat, I don’t know what is. I accept their worship because it is sugar-sweet, and meant for me.”

Pup is the Small God of New Owners when not walking beside Snack and patrolling the moonlit Halloween streets. He comforts the pups and kits and birds and other creatures being handed into the car of clumsy giants they don’t yet know, who don’t yet know them. He tells them things will be all right, and sometimes he lies, and that’s a brutal trick, but he never means to lie to them, and when he finds he has, he comes and collects them for the next Halloween’s joy. He heals everything he can. Why he eschews humans outside of Halloween is an easy explanation:

“Pets pass from hand to hand in this world you’ve made, and they can lose the familiar in the blinking of an eye. They don’t know why the rules have changed, or why they’re called by a new name, or where the owner they know and love has gone. They know so little, but they know they want to be safe, and fed, and content if not always filled with joy. I go to them to ease the sting of transition, and help them hope that one day, there will be no strangers.”

Snack walks mostly and only on Halloween itself, and the nights around. She blends with the crowd, a lanky girl perhaps a little old for trick-or-treat in the eyes of some adults who see the first stirrings of puberty as proof of sudden adulthood, even in a crowd of children, even behind the mask. She holds out her pillowcase, she speaks the words, and she is given candy by an endless sea of strangers. They are always strangers to her.

She has no other job. She only accepts what is offered, and leaves her small blessings upon the houses she passes, repelling solicitors and door-to-door campaigners for as long as the spirit of generosity can thrive within those walls.

For one night a year, they walk all together, and they are content, and they are whole.

#Small Gods #smallgodseries #Seanan McGuire #Lee Moyer #icons and stories

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thethirdromana · 1 year

Text

Mina's class conundrum

For some of the characters in Dracula, it's very clear-cut which class they belong to - e.g. Arthur, who is 100% a member of the upper class. With Mina, however, it's less clear:

She was a childhood friend of Lucy, who is upper-class or upper-middle class (from a high enough class background to marry a nobleman).

She is engaged to marry Jonathan, a newly qualified solicitor (a middle-class profession) who was recently only a clerk (one of the worst-paid white-collar jobs in Victorian England).

Mina expects to be short of money in their married life, and "shall have to try to make both ends meet".

Lucy considers her to be a suitable match for Jack, a man who is "well off" and "of good birth".

She has to work for a living as an assistant schoolmistress.

She's a orphan who has never known her parents.

Some of this (the friendship with Lucy, the idea of marriage to Jack) points towards an upper-middle class background. But the rest (marrying Jonathan, working for a living) is less consistent with that.

So I thought it might be interesting to tease out what the options are. Dropping the rest of this under a cut because it's long.

Quick disclaimer: whatever the finer details of her background, Mina is still in the top 15% of 1890s society. She's not working-class; she's an educated professional who's probably earning 50% more than the average full-time salary.

But there's still a big gulf between the entry level of the Victorian middle class (household income around £150/year, employing one servant) and the top end of the upper-middle classes (four-figure household income, large numbers of servants, potentially enough passive income for no one to need to work).

Mina's job

I realised in writing this that we don't know a huge amount about what Mina's job actually is. She's an assistant schoolmistress, and she says:

you can't go on for some years teaching etiquette and decorum to other girls without the pedantry of it biting into yourself a bit

but that doesn't imply that etiquette is all she teaches. She could equally have said "you can't go on for some years teaching other girls to keep their shoes shiny and in good order without becoming self-conscious when your own shoes are scuffed", without it implying that her teaching career is all about shoes.

The Dracula Daily fandom has also generally assumed that Mina was a pupil of the school, before becoming a pupil-teacher, then a full-time teacher; I think that's a reasonable assumption from Mina teaching "for some years". We've also generally assumed that Mina and Lucy attended the same school where Mina then became a teacher. That's implied here:

It was my privilege to be your friend and guide when you came from the schoolroom to prepare for the world of life.

I think there could be other ways of interpreting that sentence, but most of them are a bit of a stretch.

There were a variety of different schools for girls in Victorian England: chiefly board schools, private schools, and a small number of academic schools that aimed to give girls an equal education to that received by boys, targeting university entrance. I'm going to leave out the latter, because I don't think Mina works for one of the academic schools; there just weren't that many of them.

Board schools were primary schools for the general population, run by the state though funded partly by fees. Working at a board school would be stressful, with huge class sizes. Board school teachers were generally middle-class: for instance, Margaret McCallum, the daughter of a shopkeeper (a lower-middle class occupation), who became a pupil-teacher at her local elementary school in her early teens, then went to college for further qualifications, eventually becoming a headteacher.

Board school teaching was promoted as a career for upper-class women, but very few of them did it: Eglantyne Jebb, who went on to found Save the Children and drafted the document that became the Declaration of the Rights of the Child, was a rare exception.

There's also no way that Lucy attended a board school. Her education was much more likely to have been at a private school, which were run by women from a genteel background. Fees for pupils ranged from £3 to over £150 (bearing in mind £56 as the average male full-time salary).

This made it a difficult way to earn a living: women who ran and taught at these schools had to keep up the appearance of a genteel lifestyle while not usually making enough profit to support it. They were often not well-qualified; their qualification was coming from the correct social background, which meant upper-middle class or upper-class ("gentlewomen", broadly), though by definition they were also poor enough to need to work for a living. (Source, p139-141)

Possible options for Mina's class

Putting my cards on the table, I would strongly prefer Mina to be of a distinctly lower class than Lucy (who is upper-class or upper-middle class). That would mean that the Crew of Light spans different genders, different ages, different faiths, different nationalities and different classes (rather than just upper-middle and upper, which is a difference, but a small one), which really appeals to me. Unfortunately, the evidence doesn't really go my way.

Mina as upper-middle class I think this has to be the more likely option, however much I don't like it.

Mina's parents could have been upper-middle class, potentially connections of the Westenras, but their untimely deaths meant that they didn't have as much by way of savings to pass on to their daughter as they would have liked. They might have left Mina enough to be educated at a good school (with Lucy) and to care for her needs as a child, but not so much that she could afford not to work as an adult. At the same time, being from established upper-middle class background would give Mina the standing that she would need to work as a teacher in a private girls' school.

This could suggest that Mina is marrying down, at least a little, in her engagement to Jonathan, leading to this line in Lucy's letter:

We met some time ago a man that would just do for you, if you were not already engaged to Jonathan.

I don't much like this reading. But it does seem to be the one that fits best with the facts we have.

Mina as lower-middle class OK, now let's see if I can make my preferred reading work.

This puts Mina in a class that would naturally marry a solicitor's clerk. She would work in a board school or potentially one of the cheapest private day schools. How she came to be childhood friends with Lucy is harder to figure out, but if Lucy is from new money (possible!) then the connection might go back to before the Westenras became wealthy.

Suggesting Jack as a match for Mina, "good birth" and all, could simply be the relatively innocent Lucy thinking that if Mina and Jack met, love would conquer all regardless of a class barrier. (Which is plausible given how much Jack admires Mina when they do meet).

This reading does fit better with Mina's dedication to autodidacticism and her interest in supporting Jonathan through his work, not just by being a better housewife. This would be consistent with coming from a background where women routinely worked before marriage, and I would guess might work alongside their husbands more as well (e.g. a shop-keeper's wife working in the shop).

As for being Lucy's "friend and guide" when she came from the schoolroom... well, being her teacher is the most logical way to read it, but she could arguably have been guided by an older friend, especially if the age gap between them is more like 3-5 years rather than 1-2 years.

Yeah, it's a stretch. But I think either option is possible, just about. I'd be keen to hear what other people think!

#dracula daily #dracula daily spoilers #mina murray #historical context

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queenshelby · 1 year

Text

Blue Eyes Blues (Part One)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 5,456

Warning: Smut, Cheating, 20 Year Age Gap (all in later parts)

Notes: This plays shortly after Cillian finished filming Oppenheimer and is not based on Cillian’s real life.

Please comment and engage!

Background

It has been three months since you finally graduated from university and became a qualified drama and music teacher. Being young and energetic, you enjoyed working with children and the fact that you had to teach your very own niece did not bother you.

Your niece was only eight years old and her name was Mia. It was the name your sister had given her with great thought. It was your late grandmother’s name and you adored Mia more than anything else in the world. Just four years ago, when you had turned twenty-two, you adopted her much to the dislike of your parents who believed that a boarding school or something the like would have been more appropriate for her. But for you, this was not an option. You had promised your sister to take care of her just before she had passed away five years ago. You were twenty-one at the time and whilst this was a huge ask, you well and truly intended to keep your promise to her after all she had been through.

You loved your sister and your parents eventually came around and accepted your decision to become Mia’s permanent carer. As such, they supported you not only emotionally but also financially. Your parents paid for your degree and purchased you a large townhouse in the outskirts of Dublin which is where you lived now with Mia and your husband Kurt who was three years older than you.

Kurt, too, had finished his degree at the tender age of twenty-four and whilst he was not good with children, he worked hard and your parents were impressed by his eagerness to provide for you and Mia when it came to it.

Kurt had been working in your father’s law firm for the past six years, first as paralegal and then, he took up the position of a solicitor. You met him through your parents when you were only twenty and he was well liked by your family. His family was as wealthy as yours and, by now, Kurt had moved up the ranks and was a senior associate, handling large commercial litigation cases and, whilst he worked side by side with your father, this never really became an issue for you until now.

Just six months ago, Kurt had employed a new secretary and you were almost certain that there was something more than a professional relationship between them as, every time you went to see him at work or attended a function with him, she glared at you in the most unusual and uncomfortable way. There had been whispers and rumours which employees spread and which you had heard about and even your father seemed to have been turning a blind eye on what was happening between your husband and this other woman. To him, Kurt was a valuable employee and you knew that, your father himself had never been faithful to your mother either. You knew of at least two affairs which your father had engaged in when you and your sister were still young and your mother even left him at some point before returning to him again after as little as three months.

Kurt’s secretary’s name was Corina and she was still in law school herself. She was merely twenty years old and rather attractive. She was outgoing and had no responsibilities in life which may be one of the reasons Kurt was enjoying her company. He never wanted the family life you did and always criticised you for taking Mia on as a child of your own. It was not what he wanted and he often blamed you for forcing the obligations of fatherhood on to him.

With Mia’s needs having being more complex now that she has comprehended what has happened to her mother, you did not like to leave her with a stranger for a long time. A babysitter was out of the question and even your parents lacked the necessary parental instincts to look after her. Thus, you often stayed at home while Kurt was going out with his friends. He frequented expensive bars and restaurants, travelled on his own for work and even went on a trip to Ibiza recently.

Luckily for you, however, you made peace with the fact that your party years were over and you knew that Mia needed you, especially at night, when her nightmares were haunting her. This occurred at least once or twice per week these days and, with that being the case, over the past year, you often shared a room with her when she became too scared, leaving Kurt on his own.

Since he did not comprehend what Mia was going through, he always complained about it. He complained that, over the past year, your sex life had deteriorated and there was certainly some truth to it. Sex no longer interested you and whilst you missed erotic and non-erotic intimacy with your husband, you did not miss sleeping with him.

Sex with Kurt had always been repetitive. He was a missionary ten-minute kind of guy, thinking that, since he was working hard, it was simply your job to please him rather than the other way around. He had always been a selfish lover and you never knew otherwise. He was the one and only man you had ever been with but now that you were getting older and had come through some of the darkest times in your life, you felt as though something was missing from your relationship.

But what was missing was not only some passionate and heated sex. You also missed love, care and non-sexual intimacy. Your marriage lacked understanding and you often questioned yourself as to why you had married this man in the first place.

For Kurt, life was all about money and reputation and reputation was something that was rather important to your parents as well. Not only your father, but also your mother. She was the principal of the prestigious school you were now working at. It was an all-girls school that was highly regarded in Ireland and the fees charged to parents for their children’s education were almost outrageous. But, clearly, most of these people could afford it. They were all filthy rich too. Just like your parents.

***

Over the past three months you had not only just met your students, who ranged between the ages of six to ten, but also their parents. Or at least some of them. Most of them were rather demanding and about eighty percent of the parents engaged in their children’s schooling activities were stay at home mothers with hard working husbands. They were large income families, mostly lawyers, doctors, politicians and bankers and you were always somewhat impressed by the way these women were presenting themselves.

Most of them were much older than you and you glanced at their Louis Vuitton handbags and Cartier jewelry, both of which were things you could easily afford for yourself. But you had no desire in material things like this and ignored the hype surrounding the newest fashion trends and styles. You were as plain as one could be, preferring comfort over style and, whilst this was a prestigious school where you had to dress appropriately, in your mind, a nice dress from Primark and some Birkenstock sandals sufficed.

Mia, too, did not care much about trends and, at least in this regard, she was an easy-going child who loved to read, play the piano and spend some time at your parents’ holiday house in Cork. She was intrigued by nature and she most certainly was a bit of a tom boy when it came to sports. She loved soccer and played tennis too, both of which you had limited interest in yourself.

Over the past three months, since starting up in this new school environment herself, she had made some new friends and whilst she did not participate in the group of popular girls at school, the acquaintances she made came as a relief to you. The two girls she spent most of her time with were Ava and Eloise, both of whom stood out to you for the simple fact that they were identical twins.

Eloise and Ava looked the same and, on occasion, you had to ask who was who until Mia gave you some pointers. It was easy for her to differentiate them both and all you had to do was to look at their left forearms on which Eloise had a small birth mark whereas Ava did not.

Both Eloise and Ava were down to earth and whilst Eloise was into the newest fashion trends, Ava enjoyed theatre and music. Both of the girls were well mannered and, even though their parents were separated, their emotional and mental state was exceptional. They were both rather intelligent and empathetic, thus making them both a good match for Mia.

Over the past three months, you had only met their mother though. She was single, in her mid-forties and had told you that the girls’ father, who would usually have shared care for the twins, was away for work. Unlike most of the other mothers in the parent group, Ava and Eloise’s mother worked very hard herself and, as such, was often late to the meetings which she had scheduled with you. Her name was Martha and she was a photographer who specialised in advertisements. Her work was predominant in the fashion industry and, as such, she often travelled to London, Paris and New York to photograph models and the like.

According to her, she had recently taken up a new position though, opening an exhibition space south of Dublin. The opening of her exhibition was taking place this week and, whilst you never took an interest in fashion, it was your husband who suggested that you should take him to the opening night so that he could make contact with her and her famous friends.

He told you that there were many legal cases in the industry right now, all of which were surfacing in the UK and Ireland, pertaining some trademark related issues. Getting one of those cases could lead to another promotion in your father’s firm and, being a good wife, you agreed to his request and whilst it was a school night, you shipped Mia off to your mother’s house nervously so that you could make it there without having to worry about rushing home.

***

‘This is ridiculous Y/N. Your mother will know what to do’ Kurt scolded after you spent time preparing everything for Mia’s sleepover at your parents’ house rather than getting ready yourself. You simply put on a plain black dress and a pair of flats.

‘My mother has nothing at her house for Mia. She needs her toothbrush, her hair-brush, a school uniform for tomorrow…’ you tried to explain, causing Kurt to yell at you again, which is when you put down your foot and told him to leave you alone. You hated it when he got angry with you and were grateful for the fact that Mia could not hear him.

‘This is not my problem Y/N! You need to hurry up for fuck sake…’ Kurt said before giving you a deadline and then he disappeared into the living room.

‘Why did you take her on anyway? You are too young for this. I am too young for this…fuck…’ Kurt then mumbled under his breath as he walked away from you and this was a very common argument you had with him. It always sent tears to your eyes and tonight was no different.

***

Eventually though, you calmed down, wiped your tears away and put on some make up and then you made your way to the gallery with Kurt which was shortly after your mother had arrived to pick up Mia.

As usual, she was late which meant that, you too, would be late.

***

Soon after you arrived at the gallery and were handed a glass of expensive champagne, Kurt made his way to the main foyer to socialise. By that point, you had already introduced him to Martha in passing and he took it from there. As usual, he left you standing, knowing very well that you would be struggling with the impending small talk and, with Kurt having gone his own way, you realised that, perhaps, you should look at the photographs and get a feel for them.

Thus, you walked around the back of the exhibition room, watching a slide show of skinny ladies wearing hideous clothes while reading the booklet which Martha had handed you earlier that evening. But, even despite the thorough description of what was displayed in this room, you could not really make sense of it. Vogue, Bazaar…Victoria Secret… You did not really care. It all was a blur and, just as you starred at the installation in front of you, you realised how out of place you appeared in an exhibition like this. This was not your scene and the more you looked around the room, the more uncomfortable you began to feel.

Everyone around you seemed to be getting what this weird fashion and the photographs were all about, but you did not and, just as you starred at the video changing once more, looking at it blankly, you heard an unfamiliar voice speaking to you from behind.

‘You look like you are concentrating really hard’ a male voice said from the right, causing you to startle. The truth was that you had been daydreaming and did not want to socialise with anybody but, when you turned around, you saw a man who almost instantly took your breath away.

‘Yeah’ you gasped momentarily while sipping on your champagne but the man was not looking at you. He was looking back at the video installation in front of him with furrowing eyebrows and this gave you a chance to absorb him.

He was not tall. Not much taller than you, but with a lean and compact build. His profile was of a man in his early or mid-forties perhaps. He featured a slight stubble as if he could not have been bothered to shave that day and his cheekbones were razor sharp, unlike anything else you had ever seen before.

His skin was pale and freckled and his hair was slightly grey. It was short but messy, as if he had just gotten out of bed. His style, itself, was interesting. He did not fit into the elegantly dressed crowd and, whilst he wore a very nice dark coloured suit, he stood out for his simplicity. From what you could tell, it was expensive suit and yet, he clearly did not care about it much as, with the suit, he wore a simple black t-shirt and above the hem of his t-shirt you could see some of his chest hair. It was curly and a little grey as well. Then, above all, he had the most amazing and beautiful blue eyes you have ever seen and, on his left wrist, he wore two braided crochet armbands, one pink and purple. They looked a lot like the ones Mia made with her friends Ava and Eloise and thus they stood out to you immediately as well, even more so than his plain look. He had children, surely. A daughter perhaps. Or maybe two?

When you were done assessing him, you glanced back at the video and finally took up the courage to answer him properly as, clearly, he had not heard you before.

“Yes, I am concentrating hard. I cannot make sense of fashion like this. It’s absurd, really…” you admitted which caused the stranger to chuckle softly.

“You are not alone then” the man said to you before giving you a warm smile. “I don’t care about fashion much either” he admitted and the sound of his voice almost shook you. It was so low, soft and, yet, melodic.

“Then why are you here?” you laughed, knowing that he could be asking you the same thing.

“This might sound weird to you, but my ex-wife invited me, so I came” he admitted with another quiet chuckle.

“Your ex-wife?” you queried then and he nodded.

“Yes. She is the photographer of whatever this is” the man then said with amusement and, just as he did, your breath faltered as you made eye contact. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, her photos are great, just…you know…the clothes are…never mind” he then stammered, seeing that he talked himself into a corner but you knew exactly where he was going with this.

“Don’t worry. I get it” you said with laughter while continuing to stare at him. His eyes were something else. They were so goddamn blue and mysterious, sparkling under the bright gallery light which made his corneas look like moving water.

“So, Martha O’Connor is your ex-wife then?” you eventually asked after, clearly, you had starred at this poor man for long enough and he had already turned silent in response.

“Yes” the stranger responded quietly while continuing to smile at you awkwardly and you smiled at him in return, feeling momentarily uncomfortable under the weight of his eyes.

“You aren’t the twins’ father then by any chance?” you then asked quickly, recognising some resemblances within him of them both. The eyes, the facial features and even his lips were something both Ava and Eloise featured as well.

“Ava and Eloise?” he asked surprised and with a great sense of curiosity, to which you nodded.

“I am” he then confirmed. “How did you know?” he asked while still looking at you with a half-smile and a half-frown. There was something in his stare, something you did not quite understand and when he lifted one of his hands slightly and ran his fingers across his mouth thoughtfully while he studied you, you could not help but gasp inadvertently. You immediately noticed that he had nice hands for a man which was always something you appreciated. His fingers were long and elegant, yet somehow still thick and masculine.

“I am their teacher. I teach them in drama and music and they are both friends with my daughter” you eventually explained and this, clearly, made more sense to him now.

“So, you are Y/N then?” he asked, in response of which you swallowed and your eyes narrowed a little. How did he know your name, you wondered?

“Yes” you said nonetheless and, luckily for you, he intended to give you an explanation.

“The girls have told me a lot about you. You are new at the school and, according to Martha, you are their favourite teacher now” he laughed and you smiled again.

“Just now?” you giggled and the stranger nodded at you.

“Well, they don’t usually get excited about anyone teaching them anything really but your name comes up constantly so they must really like you” the man chuckled before, finally introducing himself. “I am Cillian by the way” he then said while shaking your hand, which was a gesture that surprised you a little. After all, you had been standing there for a while and it was only now that he shook your hand.

“Right, yes” you said, vaguely remembering his name from the files you read about the girls when you took on their class. Cillian Murphy is what it said and the name sounded vaguely familiar to you. and after you spoke about Ava and Eloise with him for a little while longer, your husband came and interrupted you both, seeking an introduction.

But then, without you even having to make an introduction yourself, your husband approached him and whilst you wondered how he already knew Cillian’s name, you did not think to question him about it.

You now simply stood there, allowing Kurt to talk to this stranger even though it was obvious to you that, clearly, Cillian was not interested in what he had to say. Yet, you did not intend to save either one of them from each other and, instead, you simply watched on and smiled. They were incompatible. Different even and, seeing your husband next to the stranger you just met was an interesting look. Your husband was well groomed, wearing a navy-blue Gucci suit, an expensive tie and shirt, a Rolex and even some gold cufflinks and then there was Cillian, wearing a suit probably equally expensive, a simple t-shirt and braided wristbands.

Eventually though, Martha came by and broke up the conversation. She was accompanied by another woman who was much younger than her and it was obvious to you that, despite their acquaintance to each other, they did not get along.

‘You should have worn a shirt babe’ was the first thing she said while approaching Cillian and kissing him on the cheek while taking his hand into hers.

‘Why? To look at videos and photographs?’ he chuckled in response and this amused you. You could not help but chuckle again and it was at this point that Martha introduced the woman by her side as Cillian’s fiancée Lorraine.

Both, you and Kurt greeted her and made your introduction before you had a chance to listen in on their conversation and it appeared to you that, on occasion, Lorraine and Martha had to work together. But this did not mean that Martha had to like Lorraine and the tension between these two women was almost overwhelming, making you feel sorry for the handsome stranger you just met.

He was clearly trying to stay out of whatever they argued about but, in the end, he was caught up in the middle of an argument which clearly pertained some sort of engagement for a magazine.

Shortly after the argument emerged however, Cillian received a phone call and excused himself. It was his sister who had been calling him and since she was the one looking after the twins that night, he was sure to answer.

“I have to go. Ava has been throwing up and I should go and check on her” was the next thing you heard and, just as he addressed you and Kurt once more, you finally got to shake his hand which was incredibly soft and warm.

“It was nice to meet you” he then said with a warm smile and whilst you had expected Lorraine to leave with him, she did not. According to her, she had plans to go out with some friends later that night and whilst Martha was concerned about Ava’s health, Cillian reassured her that he could handle it.

With that, he left and you did not get to speak with him again that night but this did not mean that you forgot about him when you left the exhibition yourself. There was something about him that intrigued you and you did not know what it was. He was different to anyone else you had ever met before and even a little rough around the edges. He was handsome and you felt a strange sensation in the pit of your stomach when you thought about him. It was a sensation you had never felt before, but it felt incredibly good.

The way this man looked at you made you feel something married women were not supposed to feel about men who were not their husbands. His eyes seemed to have burned themselves in to your brain and, whether you allowed it to happen or whether you had no choice in this matter, you did not know.

He had a quiet thoughtfulness and depth about him, as if he understood exactly who you were even though you had never met him before. It was like he could really see you and you did not know how you could possibly have thought this way about a man you had just met and spoken to for mere minutes.

After the Opening Gala -Your POV

“Tonight was nice, was it not?” Kurt eventually asked as you stumbled into your house around midnight and his words removed you from your intrusive thoughts about this handsome stranger.

“Yes, it was lovely” you told him and, since he had a bit to drink already, you knew what it was that he wanted when, eventually, he approached and kissed you passionately.

This was unlike Kurt, but you were not surprised. You had not had sex for three months and, clearly, he thought that, tonight was the night.

Slightly tipsy yourself form the three glasses of champagne you drank, you gave into the kiss and, just as you were kissing your husband, Cillian unbiddenly began to float in to your mind.

What were you doing? This is what you asked yourself as you could not help but wonder what it would feel like to kiss this stranger and, with those intrusive thoughts lingering in the back of your head, you moaned into your husband’s mouth.

“I need you tonight” Kurt then told you and whilst this all felt wrong to you, you nodded reluctantly before pulling yourself away from his embrace.

“I will meet you in the bedroom?” he then asked and you nodded again while wondering why he always wanted to have sex in bed. Why not anywhere else? Why would he not just pin you up against the wall or bend you over the kitchen table? Why always so boring? You met each other over eight years ago and still sex was nothing but a chore for you.

Overwhelmed with guilt for having neglected your husband for a while now though, you made your way to your marital bedroom and, shortly after you arrived, you stripped off your clothes and laid down with the doona covering your naked body.

Kurt arrived five minutes later and did exactly what he would usually do. He kissed you and climbed on top of you, not worrying about any foreplay whatsoever. He just expected you to be ready and thanks to your uneasy thoughts about the handsome man at the gallery earlier that night, you were. You were ready for your husband to have sex with you which, these days, was nothing but exhausting.

As he entered you, he groaned loudly and you simply closed your eyes. You pretended to enjoy it and faking an orgasm was something you were already an expert in these days but then, after about two minutes of relentless and repetitive pounding, your intrusive thoughts returned.

Cillian’s blue eyes and his pink lips were all you were seeing now and, as Kurt was fucking you, you imagined what the stranger’s lips would feel like on your skin.

This went on for a while but, even despite your sexual thoughts about Cillian, you could not quite get there and finish as, after seven minutes and thirty-five seconds of being pounded like a doe, Kurt was done and rolled of you.

This time, you did not even bother faking your own orgasm and your husband must not have cared about your enjoyment either as he rolled to the side and pretty much instantly fell asleep.

It was depressing. Very depressing. But in the end, it was exactly what your marriage had become these days and you knew that you had more pressing matters to think about.

After the Opening Gala -Cillian’s POV

Later that evening, after around midnight, when Cillian arrived at house and checked on the girls who, by then, had both fallen asleep, he gave them both a kiss goodnight and thanked his sister for looking after them for the evening.

“I think she got it all out and is feeling better for it now” Cillian’s sister told him after he enquired about Ava’s episode of illness once more.

“It seems that way” he acknowledged, knowing though that he would have to keep a close eye on her for the rest of the night.

“It might be emotional Cills” his sister then began to say, but Cillian did not know what she meant.

“What do you mean?” he thus enquired but his sister shook her head.

“You know what I mean!” she spat before carrying on. “How much longer will you put up with this, huh?” she then asked almost bluntly but Cillian still did not know what she was talking about.

“What are you talking about?” Cillian thus asked once more and his sister immediately brought up Lorraine’s recent antics.

“Lorraine is not a good role model for Ava and Eloise. Everything she talks about these days are new age diets, which clearly the girls do not need, and designer clothes” his sister pointed out before throwing a stash of magazines onto Cillian’s living room table.

“What is this shit?” Cillian asked while picking them up, looking through them and then throwing them into the bin.

“Teenage magazines which I found in Ava’s room. She has been looking through them, getting the wrong ideas about pretty much everything” Cillian’s said with great concern, feeling as though Lorraine was the culprit behind all of this and, if this was not enough already, she told him what else had happened earlier in the day.

“Just today, before Lorraine left to go out and meet up with you, she got into an argument with Ava. Ava had been using her perfume and Lorraine did not like it. She also felt it necessary to tell her how much she paid for fifty millilitres of fancy water and I am telling you right now that, if this does not stop, both girls will be trouble for you and Martha after you both did so well to keep them out of the movie and fashion scene” Cillian’s sister went on to say while Cillian’s mind began to work overtime yet again.

Things had not been easy for him and his fiancée ever since she took up a new job at a large magazine in London, writing a blog about fashion and life. Her presence on social media was something he disliked especially when pictures she posted included him and his children as well. Martha and him quickly put a stop to this and, yet, Lorraine shared much more about her private life with him than he would have liked.

It was good for her reputation and fame and, as of late, going out, clubbing, was one of her favourite things to do and in return for a good night out, she would write up a review of all the trendy places in town. She did the same for new products which emerged and the spare room which Cillian kept in his house. It had soon been filled with rather useless merchandise that Lorraine adored and shared with the girls but, the worst of it all was that, in addition to this, Lorraine’s latest article mentioned her giving up part of herself for family life which was not even true. She gave up nothing and Cillian never asked her to. She told him that she did not want children and he accepted her position as he, too, did not want to expand his family any further. He was too old for this. The girls were enough for him but, him having them over 175 days a year was a burden to Lorraine and, just tonight, when he had met you and you were speaking so highly of them both, this made him think. Perhaps his sister was right when she told him to keep on looking rather than settling for Lorraine.

“I will talk to her” Cillian said in the end just as his sister was about to leave.

“You should” his sister said while, deep down inside, she thought that Cillian should be looking for someone else. Someone mature and closer to his own age. Someone who was not in showbiz. Perhaps even someone normal.

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