#1900s au

[lordtonic]

“I’ve found myself selling my wares in a town with peculiar residents and even stranger happenings, it’s also 1903 or whatever” au doodles

edmund is @damistrolls <3

[maymayonnaise]

Father do i deserve the wrath that has been brought upon me?

*Made with Canva*

[ellsey]

All we need is each other

Ship: Jemma Simmons/Daisy Johnson

Rated: G

Word Count: 2159

Summary: Daisy is ready to get out of high school and move on with her life, but things start to change when she meets the cute exchange student in her English class

This fills the square 1990s AU as it is based on parts of my 1990s high school experience

Preview:

Daisy walked into her English class and plopped down into the first available seat. She was hoping this class would be a breeze as she had a major case of senioritis. Daisy wanted to get a grade and get out of this town as quickly as possible.

Amazingly, Daisy was at the same school for the second year in a row, which was unusual considering how often she switched foster families and thus switched schools. This family had taken her in and kept her though, so she had some added and unexpected stability.

All of this led Daisy to the conclusion that she might actually graduate high school and maybe even manage to get into some sort of college. Start a real life.

Familiar faces were sitting down in desks all around her, some she’d even classify as friends. Another weird thought. She had friends. That was as unusual as everything else about her life currently.

Mack sat next to her, and Daisy chatted with him about what he’d done over the summer until they were interrupted by a voice behind Daisy.

“Excuse me, do you have a pencil I could borrow? I seem to have misplaced the one I had somewhere between the last class and this one.”

Daisy quickly turned around to see who had asked the question. The voice was very unfamiliar and with good reason. The accent immediately gave it away as not being from around here.

The girl who had spoken was quite possibly the cutest girl Daisy had ever seen. She had dark hair and a bright smile. Daisy was pretty sure her jaw dropped just a hair, and she rushed to try and pull herself back together.

Read the rest on AO3

[dissident-vedder]

- once upon a december ii ( 𝐄.𝐕. )

ADD YOURSELF TO MY TAGLIST!

anastasia!au. 1900s!au. after [y/n]’s narrow escape from the alexander palace, she lost most, if not all, memory of her childhood, only remembering the tiny details that would help her later on in life. this is the second part of a duology.

THIS FIC CONTAINS a generalized russian accent; this story is both of my own creation and inspirations (listed below); mentions of death.

A/N - layout by @adoresobs​!  the description of the dress i’m going for the coronation clothing and crown is empress sissi. the wedding dress is also by her. i understand that she’s from the 1800s, but i just love her style. i also took the wedding traditions from an article, so if you are from russia and know about the traditions and see anything wrong, please just contact me and i’ll fix it! also, this may suck, idk.

INSPIRATIONS -  @zodiyack​ ‘s princess. anastasia (1997).

looking at herself in the mirror, [y/n] eyed the large sapphire necklace sitting on the supple skin of her chest, the heavy weight of her long hair evenly distributed around her head. the corset was tighter than usual, but she had grown used to it from the long training hours she was forced to endure. the blue eyes of the man she had seen again haunted her day, feeling them watch her when she stood in the same room with him, her heart beating wildly as she tried to shake off the feeling of hopelessness. she wanted to talk to him again, wanted to see what he was like after years of not being with him, wanted to have him hold her as he whispered that everything was alright, wanted his smell linger on her clothes. 

she didn’t notice the tear in her eye until it hit her cheek, her hand reaching up to immediately dab it away, not wanting to destroy the makeup on the handmaids took her time on, taking a deep breath in order to calm her heartbeat. she stood up, ready for her wedding.

eddie remembered when he asked her about the traditions of a russian wedding, wondering if they were the same as american counterparts, but quickly realizing that russian weddings tend to be grand and exciting.

“our marriage would only be legal if we register it at the zapis aktov grazhdanskogo sostoyaniya,” [y/n] had told him one night. “usually people do it before the ceremony so they have more time for the fun things. and at the ceremony, crowns will be placed on our heads. the crown is usually placed in by the priest, and is usually held in place by family or friends while we stand on top of a rose colored cloth. then games are played. It’s all very fun and can actually last a couple of days.”

the first day of the wedding was the actual ceremony.

eyeing the man at the end of the aisle, the now tsarevna [y/n] tomanov held her uncle’s hand, a smile broadening acros her lips. eddie seemed a little nervous, not liking the idea of being in front of such a large crowd, but knew he had to begin getting used to it as the impending knowledge of him being tsar of russia loomed over him like a dark cloud. he was a simple american man stuck in an expansive country as the love he held for their tsarevna kept him there. she had given him a manor home in both england and the united states, an escape from royal life so that he may go and clear his head. 

but not only was there those manors; they had the livadia palace in the crimea, which [y/n] and her family had spent their summers in, the winter palace that was their main residence, and many other palaces that had been the homes to her ancestors. the doors open, revealing the tsarevna in her beautiful white gown, dark green trim showing all of the layers of the skirt, the neckline, the hem of the sleeves, and the sash loosely wrapped around her right shoulder, the rest landing softly on the skirt of her dress. soft floral patterns lined around the green trim, complementing her features perfectly. eddie gasped as he watched his bride come closer, a large smile spreading across her lips as she stared at him as if he were the only thing in the world, the only rope that tied her to this place. 

the traditional vows were said, crowns were placed on their heads (which eddie found out they were tsar nicholas ii’s and tsarevna alexandra’s imperial jewels) and the ornamental glasses were smashed (another thing that was counted to be luck for a long-lasting marriage), and the two spouses followed the priest around the lectern (thrice) as they held each other’s hands tightly. 

the second day of the wedding consisted of a roadtrip.

they visited many important landmarks, such as visting the peter vassilevsky island to touch the 4000-year-old egyptian statues and stone griffons, or to the new hermitage portico and rub the toes of the marble atlanti statues, all for good luck on their marriage. “you know i love you, right?” eddie whispered into [y/n]’s hair, carresing her bare shoulder as they cuddled in the master bedroom of the imperial train, her warm skin pressed up against his. 

snow drifted slowly to the ground, covering the grass in a cold, white blanket, reminding you of the lullaby your grandmother used to sing to you when you were much younger. “i know,” she pressed a light kiss to his lips, her thumb brushing against his cheekbone, forehead pressing against his. this was something you longed for all your years spent in that orphanage. 

someone to love, hold, cherish. 

“and a song, someone sings once upon a december,” eddie’s resonant voice sang from the comfort of olivia’s room, brushing away the small tendrils of hair that stuck to the side of her face. “someone holds me safe and warm,” you continued, putting your chin on eddie’s shoulder. so many years had passed since the two of you were married, and many began speculating if either of you were infertile, most of which directed at you, all because you were a female. but luckily, olivia came along one hot june morning, screaming as you cried from your spot in the bed. it had been such an intensive labor and now she was here. “horses prance through a silver storm,” eddie’s voice joined yours, his hand holding your cheek softly. “figures dancing gracefully across my memory.”

“someone holds me safe and warm,” you wrap your arms around eddie, holding him tight against your body, eddie moving his hand to take yours in his, his free hand grabbing onto olivia’s. “horses prance through a silver storm,” the days of you and your family going on horseback rides during the heavy snowfalls flashed through your mind; it was one of the best feelings you ever experienced in your early life. the cold wind biting at your cheeks, the laughter and smiles passed around warmed your insides. “figures dancing gracefully across my memory,” the balls your father threw, the many people wearing heavy gowns and sparkling jewelry dancing around the floor, skirts skimming the floor and coattails flying up. 

“far away, long ago, glowing dim as an ember,” you were reminded of your time in the american orphanage, the troublesome nights of the small flashes of memory, the longing for a life you couldn’t remember. “things my heart used to know, things it yearns to remember.”

“and a song someone sings,” you looked out the window, placing a hand on your growing belly. “once upon a december.”

TAGLIST:

@stateofloveandvedder​ @state-of-love-and-lust​ @honeysympathy​ @grossgold​ @sea-sxns​ @d-arknecessities

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Strange Magic Monday

"The Primrose House? You know that place is haunted, right?"

Marianne resisted the urge to throttle Roland. "If it isn't now, it will be once I get up there."

"Now darlin," Roland said condescendingly, "Don't you think you're better off not interfering in a police investigation? Better to just go home where it's safe. It ain't right, you running around the town at all hours like this. Why, when we're married-"

Marianne turned a fiery glare on him. "It's cute how you think I was talking to you."

She turned back to her father, who looked pale and weary. "I know Dawn is in Primrose House. Sunny followed the car while everyone else was running around like chickens with their heads cut off. I'm not asking permission to go. I'm just telling you where I'm going to be."

Dagda rubbed his eyes. "You can't break into a house, Marianne, that's a crime!"

"So's kidnapping!" she retorted. "And it ain't breaking and entering if they open the door for me, right?"

She didn't wait for an answer. Her bicycle was waiting on the porch, her revolver was loaded, and she'd slipped a large knife out of the kitchen, just in case. Marianne was going to get her sister back, and she didn't care if she had to go through Roland, the police, or the ghosts of Primrose House to do it.

[potestessemagishomosexualitatis]

Circus au and analogical? :D

Send me Fandom Trope Mashups 

“There is nothing magical or mystical in this world. Everything that exists can be explained by science, reason, and the accumulation of knowledge.”

A strange viewpoint to hear from a sideshow psychic, but Logan Sanders is in many ways a strange man.

He uses a mix of psychology and cold-reading to “read minds” and “tell the future.” The ethics of this are perhaps dubious, but that isn’t really a concern to him - he comes from a poor background, and since rebranding as a psychic, he can finally afford to buy his books and save up for a quiet, solitary retirement one day.

Patton is a clown and a juggler, while Roman does a knife-throwing act. It’s the early 1900s, and the three of them travel around as a small fair and occasionally join up with larger circuses.

At one of these larger circuses, there is a new exhibit - The Nightmare Man, a Creature From The Fifth Dimension. Logan rolls his eyes and dismisses it as an obvious fraud, despite the punters’ enthusiasm.

However, Patton gets concerned about the performer’s wellbeing and they sneak into the exhibit after hours. They find a strange, purple-skinned humanoid - who, true to advertising, lets out a growling shriek that fills everyone who hears it with terror.

Logan’s science cannot explain the creature before him. Is it an unknown species? An alien from another planet? Some kind of science experiment gone wrong? He has no idea.

But as the three of them orchestrate a jailbreak and go on the run with the creature they dub “Anxiety,” Logan will learn that the world is far stranger than he ever believed.

[b1acksw4n]

I want to make a Phantom Of The Opera inspired BTS fanfic- I can just imagine Jungkook as the Phantom hiding in the opera house watching the reader perform and secretly helping her become a star and Taehyung being her childhood best friend that has a crush on her— Jungkook hiding part of his face with the mask because he was abused as a child forced to be apart of Freak Show Acts for his appearance. Jungkook being slightly possessive and getting jealous of Taehyung/Reader- (obviously this will take place in the 18/1900s like the movie)

Would anyone read this idk I’ve been thinking about this for like days? My mind is running wild at this point. I’ve written small snippets here and there

[lire-casander]

[Day 4: 1900s] [Cold War spies]

Written for the @alterarnm event, day 4: 1900s.

Requested by @fiona-glenanne-westen. As much as I tried to come up with an original idea, this one just couldn’t let me go. 

Beta’ed by @jocarthage who turned this into something that could be readable. All remaining mistakes are my own.

I hope you like it!

Checkpoint Charlie is lonely on this cold December night, Alex notices as he remains in the shadows of one of the surrounding streets of Friedrichstraße, away from prying eyes. He leans against the nearest wall, lifting the lapels of his winter coat to cover his exposed neck with slightly trembling hands. He’s been waiting so long for tonight to happen, and although he can’t believe it’s already time for his little rendezvous, he can’t help the nerves piling up in his gut.

“Suck it up, Manes,” he mutters to himself in the solitude of the deserted street. He digs his dress shoes deeper into the snow, feeling the cold sweep through the material and soak his toes. He’s the one who’s eerily early to their date — even being always the control freak he’s become, after everything he’s lived through, he hadn’t even contemplated the fact that he could finish his duties way before the intended hour. And so here he is, soaking up in the snow that’s still falling three days after Christmas, in a lonely and cold German street while he waits.

Minutes pass slowly in his holed up place, blended against a wall, wearing an all-black outfit in order not to be spotted. The officers at this side of the Wall look as bored as he felt whenever he’d been on guard duty in that same post. Alex can’t blame them — apart from the occasional person braving their way through the barbed fence separating east from west, Alex had never been sent to a more annoying post in his whole military career. Maybe it was because he was so anxious to oversee the people crossing under the protection of the night, the stars their only guide towards a new future, but he never wanted to catch them. He’s always defended freedom in any form, and he’d be a hypocrite if he’d have aimed his gun to the people fighting for a chance to live.