very good era

Fourteen years ago, I arrived in London to work for an antiques dealer. The city fascinated me, its history hanging in the air like a salty tang. My days were spent amongst eighteenth-century objects, from milk jugs to gold boxes. Who had made them? Where did they live? What were their lives like? In looking for answers, I found tales of men, women, children, wealth, crime, poverty, the erotic, the exotic and the quiet desperation of the mundane.

Monarchs, politicians and aristocrats grab the historical limelight but the ordinary people were my quarry: the Londoners who rode the dawn coach to work, opened shops bleary-eyed and hung-over, fell in love, had risky sex, realised the children had head-lice again, paid parking fines, cashed in winning lottery tickets, fought for good causes and committed terrible crimes. Behind their stories, I saw modern London emerge between the Restoration of Charles II and the arrival of Queen Victoria on the throne. One Sunday, in the summer of 2009, I stood on the steps of St. Paul’s Cathedral and listened as the bells called to worshippers and tourists alike. People loitered chatting, or climbed the steps and went inside. I imagined this clamour was almost exactly the same as it had been three centuries ago. I recorded it on my telephone and walked home.

For years, I dragged my husband to churchyards, houses, demolition sites, public monuments and hidden memorials, telling him the stories of people long dead: cabinetmakers, slaves, domestic servants, weavers, chimney sweeps and prostitutes. Back at home, I played him the recording of my precious moment of shared experience with the Londoners of the past. His dry recommendation was to start blogging about the tales I had accumulated and what I believed about Georgian London (perhaps hoping to deflect my endless enthusiasm on to the miasma of the World Wide Web). The blog gained instant traction as it explored relationships, crime, literature, disability, personal hygiene, jobs, sexuality, charity, sport and shopping. This book has sprung from its loins, a tribute to the people of the eighteenth-century city and testimony to the eternal feeling that if I could just run fast enough through London’s endless archives, I will catch them, grasp them by their coat-tails and make them tell me everything about being a Georgian Londoner.

The preface of ‘Georgian London: Into the Streets’ by Lucy Inglis.

poursuislesetolies  asked:

you are so amazing at writing the bickering omg!! loved the swamp fic and i have to ask for FS academy era ft. bickering and whatever else you want!!! whatever comes to mind! i just love your writing sm i could read anything you wrote ever not joking :)!

Here’s day six of my week-long blog anniversary celebration (which…um I finally thought to double-check the date and…the anniversary is actually today so oops - but I’m still going to post the last prompt tomorrow, don’t worry, sorry I’m such a mess)!

@poursuislesetolies So first, thank you for the prompt of course, but also ahhh thank you so much for saying that!! It means so much for me to hear, truly, so thank you again! :)

Here’s some Academy Era bickering, feels, and…baking? Enjoy!


“Alright, what is it?”

Jemma glanced up from the neurobiology textbook she’d been leafing through, meeting Fitz’s knowing gaze. “What’s what?” she asked innocently.

Fitz rolled his eyes, not believing her terrible attempt at playing dumb for an instant. “C’mon Simmons, you’ve been on the same page for the last fifteen minutes – you could’ve had the whole bloody thing read in that time. Not to mention you’re fidgeting.”

“I am not fidgeting,” Jemma argued defensively, but the protest was a bit much because she actually had been tapping her feet and drumming her fingers off and on for the past few minutes.


Heaving a sigh, Jemma closed the textbook, placing it on the coffee table in front of the couch in Fitz’s living room. “Oh alright, I’ve just been thinking…”

“About?” Fitz set aside the magazine he’d bought earlier that day specifically for the article it contained on Tony Stark’s latest invention, giving her his full attention.

Jemma released a quiet breath, nervously wringing her hands in her lap as she tried to find the right words. However, what came out was a blurted, “I want you to teach me how to bake.”

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anonymous asked:

What are some good games on Steam that are under a dollar?

Worthwhile games under a dollar, eh? Sure, I’ll give it a shot. Bear in mind that I’m Canadian, though, which means I’m guessing at what the USD prices are - don’t blame me if some of these are a few cents over the one-dollar mark!

  • Cellar - An arcade style puzzle game about a little girl exploring a dark, monster-infested basement. Less twitchy than you’d think; you don’t move very fast, and there’s usually only one correct route in each level.
  • Heroine’s Quest: The Herald of Ragnarok - An old school Sierra-style point-and-click adventure with light RPG elements. Some survival mechanics (e.g, cold, hunger, etc.), but you can turn them off.
  • Khimera: Destroy All Monster Girls - A very good NES-era Mega Man clone, if you can get past the “monster girls” premise. Actually 100% non-smutty, which is a rarity for the genre. Gamepad recommended!
  • Princess Remedy in a World of Hurt - A cute little top-down action RPG with a simple bullet-hell combat system. Extremely retro style; think less “Super Nintendo” and more “ZX Spectrum”.

“Sirius!  Sirius, you wanna go to Diagon Alley with us.  We’re gonna get school supplies and get ice cream,” your younger brother asks.  Sirius had been dating you for a little over a year now, and it seemed that your family took a liking to him.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, that’d be great,” Sirius replied with a smile, a bright look in his eyes as he turned to face you.  He’d always had to go to Diagon Alley alone while his parents went to Knockturn Alley.

“I’ll go, then we can just apparate there,” you say, smiling as you look at your boyfriend.

“I’ll apparate with Sirius!”

“No, I will!”

“You always get to be with him!”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m older than you, dummy!”

“Guys, guys, he does happen to be, you know, my boyfriend.”