mr. envi'

Kakyoin: Wow Mr Avdol, I almost envy how you got to have other Stands around you. I would have given anything to feel connected to others growing up :) I never saw anyone else with a Stand in my town, ever

Avdol, having been afflicted with the “Stand users draw other Stand users” rule and before he wasn’t even able to go grocery shopping without having to duke it out Hol Horse over the last carton of eggs: W

Avdol: Which Town

Homunculi Headcanon 07

At the end of chapter 78 Envy is present in Wrath’s office to receive the phone call from Zampano.


What’s Envy doing just chilling in Wrath’s office? I have a theory.

He was there impersonating Pride.

After his identity is discovered by Hawkeye in chapter 70, Pride next appears in chapter 74 in Father’s Lair. He meets Greed there, who says he hasn’t visited in a while.


It’s likely that Pride’s lessons with his tutor prevent him from leaving the house on short notice, except on planned outings with his parents. When Edward is showing off to lure out Scar in chapter 45 ‘Selim’ wants to go see him, but isn’t allowed.


Which Envy even complains about in chapter 49 after Gluttony is taken, though he probably doesn’t know what held Pride up.


So, Pride spends chapters 74 to 78 with Father, as he is there when talking to Kimblee and when confronting Hohenheim. There are a lot other events going on elsewhere while this is happening, such as Hohenheim meeting Izumi and going to Liore, and Edward fighting the chimeras and getting injured and things.


While Pride is spending a lot of time with Father, his whereabouts as Selim needs to be explained. I think that Wrath suggested Selim come to work with him as a sort of Father-Son bonding thing, which wouldn’t be unusual considering how much Selim admires his ‘father’, and that would give Pride access to the way into Father’s Lair that’s in Wrath’s office.

But if Pride is there, when Wrath gets any visitors they will wonder where Selim has gone, here Envy comes in! While Pride goes to visit Father, Envy will be in Wrath’s office pretending to be Selim, and then when Pride comes home (if he even does, maybe he spent several days underground with Father and never went home) they can switch places again. Once Envy is called to the North Pride can no longer go to visit Father, and he is only seen again after that in chapter 82 when Greed and Wrath fight.


Also, Wrath only has his chat with Riza about Pride in chapter 79. Riza is Wrath’s personal aide, he obviously sees her a lot, so why would he only just bring this up now, so long after the fact? Unless, of course, Pride has been there recently (and is now absent, without Envy around), stopping Wrath from mentioning it, as it’s obviously something Pride would not want him talking about.


Wrath might have had no one visiting him that day Zampano called, so Envy didn’t bother keeping up his act as Pride, just hanging about in his regular form instead.


I hope that made sense :)

More headcanons

Painting Daisies

(not my gif)

Word Count: 1338

Spring is approaching here and as I’m taking some of my art classes, I had some major inspiration to write something subtle and sweet. Let me know if you’d be interested in me continuing this into a part 2 or something.


You’d been working for the one and only Alfie Solomons for some time now. You were the organization and routine that he desperately needed. You were great with keeping his messy thoughts together, dictating his meetings and the issues he attempted to sort out in the open. It was difficult to sit through his constant grunts and swearing, but there weren’t too many people who could decipher him as well as you could. He’d open up his door, look at you sitting at the small desk you’d been given and grunt with a slight nod, disappearing back into his office. This was your cue to pick up a pen and pad and to make your way through his door for what he deemed an urgent matter.

You weren’t given work that took up your whole day, and some of the men around took notice of this. They, of course, weren’t going to say anything about this to Mr. Solomons but they envied your shorter, easier hours. He didn’t often make you work late, letting you go easy, so you weren’t walking home in the pitch black.

“ain’ a place for a proper lady ta be walkin’ alone now, issit?”

That was his reasoning every time.

There were muttered rumors pointing out how much of a soft spot he’d grown just for you, and although you’d heard them once or twice, you didn’t pay them much attention. You knew better than to get any hopes up about a man like Alfie. He was so cryptic sometimes, and although he undoubtedly cared to keep you safe at night, you were the victim of a few grunts that had brushed you the wrong way. There wasn’t much security in that little language of his.

When nights grew slow, you’d find your pen drawing the curving lines of sunflowers, their leaves stretching to an imaginary sun and their petals full of warmth. Your mind slipped elsewhere as each loop of every petal made you more focused on filling the paper in front of you. Daisies and clouds filled the border of the paper, and a wild jungle of flora stretched to every open space you could cover on that page. You had let your mind slip so far off that you hadn’t heard the slight click of Alfie’s office door being pulled open. You hadn’t heard the soft thud of his footsteps approaching your desk. You hadn’t even felt his looming presence as he looked down at your little scribbling hands, a bit astonished that you hadn’t responded to his grunt a few moments earlier.

“you’ve got a real talent for scribbling there, love.”

His voice interrupted your moment of dazing and you dropped your pen to the pad, looking up in immediate embarrassment.

“Oh, I… yeah, I…”

Why were you being such an idiot? You couldn’t even muster the right words to say, never having had someone look so intently on the doodles that you usually threw away at the end of the night.

He grunted and nodded. Typical.


It was within the week that he called you to his office, using your full name, complete with a ‘Miss’ right in the front. You brought your pen and pad, the same one he’d caught you drawing all over just a few days ago.

“There’s a project I need ya to get a work on, right,” he said, each low grumble of every word ringing in your ears. You nodded, listening intently as he’d never given you a project before.

“This project is of great importance, s’ you’ll need ta be usin’ these pretty soon, love,” he said and sat a pair of beautiful wooden paint brushes right there on his sizable desk. Your eyes sat there on them for a minute before your mouth opened only for a split second before closing again. You didn’t understand. These were beautiful but didn’t explain what he was asking of you.

“now yer flowers were rather lovely, miss y/n, and my walls are looking a bit empty. S’ I’ve gone out an’ gottenya  some paints and canvas. I’m expectin’ a real masterpiece up on my wall pretty soon, right?”

You were holding back one of your bright smiles halfway through his little explanation, and you were nodding along to his words before then. Your fingers found their way to the brushes, feeling the smooth handles under your fingertips as you picked up the bundle of them. He continued to blame how empty his place was looking and continued to talk about this project as if it were a business proposition. There was a slight stammer in his voice though, something you hadn’t heard before. It sounded like a hint of awkwardness, unsure of how to approach this particular situation.

Your hours at your desk became shorter and shorter after a key had appeared on your desk and he’d let you leave earlier each time you grew closer to completing the vast artwork. You couldn’t see it, but he was starting to enjoy seeing you when he came home. You were usually half asleep, your eyelids drooping as you focused hard on getting more done. You were set on finishing this painting promptly, still amazed that he’d given you the opportunity to paint on a scale like this.

“Love,” he’d chuckle when he would come in, seeing small paint splatters on your cheeks and watching you yawn every few seconds. “yer half sleep, I can’t be lettin’ you walk yourself home in this kind of condition.”

That’s the moment that he started to make room for a spare dress in his closet. Then two. Then three.

He found you asleep, and he’d bring you a pillow and blanket and make sure you were as comfortable as could be.

 You forgot about your desk outside his office and were in his spare room from noon to midnight, painting your little heart away.

You were even forgetting about the plants you had to water in your own flat, your bedroom becoming a place you saw very little of.

Alfie came home one night, a bit earlier than usual, and you weren’t asleep for once. He stood at the doorway of your impromptu studio, arms folded over his broad chest as he grunted, catching your attention. You turned to him with a smile on your face, and you could tell he was in a good mood.

 "turned out to be a real masterpiece, innit?“ He asks, rewarding a bigger smile on your face.

 "you really like it?” you ask, nervous about finally finishing something you’d been working on for so long. Afterall, Alfie was still your boss, and he’d issued this project as a part of business.

But there was something new about you two. Something unspoken, a slight change that you could feel in the air between the two of you. Afterall, you’d been sleeping and waking up nearly every night in the same household as this man. He’d made sure you had clothes in his closet, so you didn’t have to worry about wearing the same things over and over again. He’d created an impromptu bed for you in that spare room, though he complained about you not sleeping on a proper mattress and being around all those paints all the time.

He nodded at your question, the two of you looking at each other for a moment. “nearly as lovely as the painter herself,” he says, straight-faced.

Your stomach nearly did a flip on itself, and your eyes were twinkling with Alfie’s comment. Your cheeks blushed a soft pink, and you opened your mouth to speak though there were no words. The two of you knew what this unspoken change was between you though. You were two very bright people who knew that through this process, you’d grown more than comfortable with each other. You didn’t want the finish of this painting to warrant the finish of the relationship you two now had.

“How ‘bout ya sleep on a real bed tonight, yeh?”


Another Cinderella - Five years ago this week, Jenna Coleman accompanied her then-boyfriend Richard Madden to the Berlin premiere of Walt Disney’s Cinderella. Richard played Prince Charming alongside Lily James’ Cinderella. I’m sure many fans on the red carpet that night envied Mr. Madden his stroke of good fortune to be dating his very own Cinderella in real life. Jenna looked beautiful in her long, red gown and later met up with the star and her date for the evening…a certain very familiar Time Lord, Matt Smith.


Ah, the good old days!

anonymous asked:

If a Regency young woman with a very young child suddenly found herself a widow, what would be her options for living? Would it be unheard of to go anywhere else but back to her family, or could she perhaps give her child to relatives and become a lady’s companion? It’s for an idea I’m tossing around for Charlotte Lucas in a potential fanfic, but I haven’t got anything finalized yet and I was curious about how realistic the idea would be

It would depend on her husband’s property and means. If her child is a son, or the terms of her husband’s will enable his daughters to inherit, she could easily remain in residence upon his estate or in his home, if it is owned outright. (In the case of Charlotte Collins, it would be a little different as the clergyman’s living would be given to a man able to fulfill the duties to the parish. However, if Mr. Bennet had already died at this point and the Longbourn estate gone to Mr. Collins, then Charlotte’s son would be the legal holder of the property. There would be some shuffling around with trusts and guardianship of the estate until he might be of age but those are details to sort out only if necessary.)

More generally, a widow would be entitled to a dower share of the income from her late husband’s property for the remainder of her life, at least one-third (or more, if the husband made such a provision in his will,) of all monies collected from rents and/or crops grown on the land, and the current holder of the property could not sell or dispose of it until the widow was dead. If the property was mortgaged or other debts remained to be paid off, (the widow being legally responsible for these payments,) this would effect her income, however, and so this right to a dower share was by no means an assurance of a stable and comfortable income for her and any children to live on. Under such circumstances (and if the present heir was not her child and wished to move into the inherited house,) she might well find it easier or more affordable to try to find a place to live with friends or relatives. (As we see Mrs. Clay move back to her father’s house with her two children.) Any man who married a widow would assume the responsibility for her first husband’s debts, if there were any left. An 18th century custom known as ‘smock’ or ‘petticoat’ weddings allowed a woman to essentially declare bankruptcy by coming to the wedding ceremony barefoot and clad only in her shift or petticoat (some sources also claiming the bride would appear wrapped in a sheet or even nude,) and the man marrying her would then not be called upon to settle any of her existing debts. (Saucy or humiliating? Hard to say.)

Later in the century, wills would tend more to provide trust-arrangements for widows’ incomes, and many heirs contested dower rights in wills, to the point that dower was formally repealed in law in 1833, leaving many widows without the common law claims former generations had relied upon to survive.

A woman’s dowry–the portion of her father’s fortune and property given with her as part of her marriage contract–as well as any inheritances she received from her mother should also revert to her control. (Mrs. Dashwood is forced to maintain herself and her three daughters on the interest derived from her dowry, which is hardly enough to sustain them. She also takes the items which were a party of her marriage portion–that set of beautiful plates that Fanny Dashwood so envies. Thankfully, Mrs. Dashwood is offered Barton Cottage on low rent from a distant cousin, Sir John Middleton.) A marriage contract protected this lump sum of a woman’s dowry as provision for her widowhood, which is why, for an heiress, an elopement was a risky venture–upon the instant of her marriage, her husband might then dispose of her entire fortune exactly as he wishes, and, should he then die, leave her with nothing.

Austen’s own lifelong friends, the Lloyds, encountered such a situation, when the widowed Mrs. Lloyd and her daughters Martha and Mary were offered a home in the parsonage at Deane, which was held by Jane’s father, who had been a friend of theirs. Three years later, Jane’s brother James wished to marry and took over the parsonage, so the Lloyd women had to move, again. Several years later, the widowed James married Mary Lloyd; and, after the elder Mrs. Lloyd’s death, as well as Rev. Austen’s, the widowed Mrs. Austen, Cassandra, Jane, and Martha, banded together as friends to stretch their limited incomes as spinsters and a widow. They went to live with Frank Austen, a Naval man, who, by taking in his mother, sisters, and Miss Lloyd, allowed him to see his mother was looked after and that his own wife, who was then expecting a child, should not be by herself while he was away at sea. Ultimately the women later settled at Chawton, where they continued to live after Jane’s death, and at age sixty-two, Martha married the widower Frank, herself.

As to incomes and occupations, if a widow had her own house and the place could be made suitable, she might take on lodgers, or–if she was educated enough–open a school. If her husband ran a shop or a farm, she might also continue to do so, herself–though this was decidedly un-genteel. If she must find her own way, a genteel widow could take a place as a housekeeper, a governess, or a lady’s companion. (Perhaps for wealthier friends or relations, perhaps not.) If she is working, it is likely her child would be placed in the care of someone else, for a fee–either at a school (if the child is old enough) or in a home in the country in the care of a woman with a good character, perhaps herself also a widow of some means. Widows also tended to live in more densely-populated areas and towns, as opposed to rural situations, if they were unable to provide their own personal means of transportation beyond going anywhere on foot. (London and Bath were full of widows, with the population of the latter having a higher proportion of women than men at roughly 60%.)

Socially, a widow’s position was a tricky one. She did not automatically gain guardianship of her own children unless her husband’s will stipulated so; and there was often some disdain if a widow re-married too quickly–or even at all. (Mourning would take at least 12 and up to 18 months to complete.) While a man re-marrying soon was seen as the norm, particularly if he had children or wanted them, a woman with ample enough provision to live on who chose to re-marry, anyway, could only be doing so for one reason: sex. Seriously. General opinion held that once a woman has Known a Man, she will continue to have Needs until her dying day and a Good Widow just RESISTS these unholy urges but nobody is perfect and sometimes you just gotta find yourself a new husband and get on that dick ASAP. Some people will totally judge her for it, but, y’know, everyone understands that a lady requires regular rogering. (Austen’s own duplicitous Mrs. Clay and Lady Susan are examples of this, while more virtuous widows like Mrs. Bates or Lady Russell remain independent and–presumably–chaste for the remainder of their lives.)

For Charlotte in particular, the Church of England made no provision for the widows of clergymen, so her home and her husband’s stipend would no longer be hers as of the moment of his death, so it’s entirely possible and likely that she might return to Lucas Lodge for a time, or go elsewhere to seek her living.

anonymous asked:

Jeremy’s home life hradcannons?

Jeremy has a loving, supportive family.

His mother has a huge heart, much like Jeremy.

Jeremy is an only child, he always received everything he ever wanted or needed throughout his childhood.

His parents have always taught him to stand up for himself and what he believes in. They’ve taught him to always be himself, no matter what.

When he tells them about Spring Awakening, and his role of Ernst, they’re incredibly supportive.

Jeremy has never labeled himself. All he knows is that when he’s around Simon, his heart does this little flip. And it’s different. But he doesn’t run from it because his family have always taught him that different isn’t always bad, and that different needs to be embraced.

He is very close with his mother. He always feels that he can tell her anything. She being the only person he tells about Simon and about the feelings he gets whenever he’s with him.

After he tells her that he and Simon have a secret relationship and that Simon isn’t ready for people to know yet, she is understanding and supportive.

Simon spends most of his time at the Travers household. Jeremy’s mom is an amazing cook and Simon often stays for dinner and ends up staying late most nights.

Simon often tells Jeremy how much he envies him. Mrs Travers knows about Simon’s situation at home and makes it clear to him that he can come over, anytime, day or night, whenever he needs.

She’s a real hugger. Her hugs are warm and she always smells sweet and Simon always loves being welcomed with a hug from her whenever he enters their home.

Jeremy’s life at home is what Simon only dreams of, he loves his family a lot but he wishes he could be himself at home like Jeremy can. It helps that he gets to spend a lot of his time there.

Jeremy is a huge dog person so every time Simon comes over to the Travers household, he’s greeted by 3 dogs; Daisy, Luna and Toby. Simon has a soft spot for Luna. He and Emma have always wanted a dog but they were never allowed to get one.

The Travers often have movie nights. Family time is really important to Jeremy, especially after hearing all about Simon’s life at home, he is grateful to have the family he does and tries to show his parents his appreciation as often as he can.