#1619...here we go again

[ratatatastic]

oh thats-!

6.27.24 (x)

[fatehbaz]

Travel back [...] a few hundred years to before the industrial revolution, and the wildlife of Britain and Ireland looks very different [...]. [B]etween 1529 and 1772 [...] [i]n the early modern period, wolves, beavers and probably some lynxes still survived in regions of Scotland and Ireland. [...] [T]he now globally extinct great auk could still be found on islands in the Outer Hebrides. [...] [A]nd pine martens and “Scottish” wildcats were also found in England and Wales. [...] [B]urbot and sturgeon in both rivers and at sea [...] [and] threatened molluscs like the freshwater pearl mussel and oyster were also far more widespread. [...] [S]everal species of wolf have gone extinct [...]. The capercaillie is [...] [t]oday [...] found only rarely in the north of Scotland, but 250-500 years ago it was recorded in the west of Ireland [...]. [B]y the end of the 18th century, sea eagles were essentially extinct across England and Wales. [...]

The Powte’s Complaint is a protest ballad probably written in 1619 to bewail the drainage of the Fens around Ely and Wisbech in Cambridgeshire. 

Attributed in one manuscript to a “Peny” of Wisbech, it is written from the perspective of a burbot, a freshwater species of cod commonly found in the Fens at this time. (This fish is now nationally extinct, but may be soon be reintroduced.)

The ballad summons the “brethren of the water” – probably meaning local people as well as fish and other animals – to fight against the drainage scheme, which sought to create new pasture land: 

Come, Brethren of the water, and let us all assemble,

To treat upon this matter, which makes us quake and tremble;

For we shall rue it if ’t be true that Fenns be undertaken,

And where we feed in Fen and Reed, they’ll feed both Beef and Bacon.

According to research by Todd Borlik and Clare Egan, the subject of complaint here was a plan to cut a canal through an area of common land south of Haddenham. This scheme would remove the ability of local people to catch fish, and also to transport their produce and fuel on the water. Protests against the scheme apparently culminated in a demonstration of some 2,000 people who lit bonfires, banged on drums and fired guns all night during a meeting of the Commission of Sewers in 1619.

Within the poem, the alliance of the “brethren of the water” seems to recognise the interdependence of humans and wildlife on each other, and on the environment of the Fens. 

A comparable example [...] is the Welsh poem Coed Marchan (Marchan Wood), written around 1580 by Robin Clidro, a wandering poet from the Vale of Clwyd in Denbighshire, known for his humorous rhymes.

Clidro’s poem tells the story of a group of red squirrels who go to London to present a petition against the felling of Marchan Wood for charcoal. As with The Powte’s Complaint, the use of the squirrel as narrator is a conceit, and the poem is really a protest against deforestation on behalf of human interests. But again, the author re-imagines the world from the perspective of animals:

Odious and hard is the law, and painful to little squirrels. They go the whole way to London, with their cry and their matron before them. Then on her oath she said, “All Rhuthyn’s woods are ravaged; my house and barn were taken one dark night, and my store of nuts.” The squirrels all are calling for the trees; they fear the dog.

---

Image, caption, and text by: Lee Raye. “Wildlife wonders of Britain and Ireland before the industrial revolution – my research reveals all the biodiversity we’ve lost.” The Conversation. 17 July 2023. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

[kittynannygaming]

[Dreamling Bingo 2023] 14

13/25 - You’re here - 15/25

Square: B2 - Enemies to lovers

Title: Uld Ases’ Dreamling Bingo 2023    

Rating: G

Word Count: 1619

Ship(s): Dreamling

Warnings:

Additional Tags:

Summary: Stories

Link: AO3,

For @dreamlingbingo​

Morpheus needed to know exactly who was Eritaké, if he wanted to court her properly. She had a laugh in her eyes and why wouldn’t she? He was very hostile to her only for him to change his behaviour over night. So, yes, she was amused.

“May I know why you’ve suddenly changed your opinion about silly little me?”

“You saved Eurydice, you saved our family. I’m just… grateful.”

“Sooo… Now that you know I’m not going to hurt your family, we can be friends again?”

“Friends… If it is what you want.” Being friends with Eritaké was a good first step. He would learn everything that he need to make his courting successful. “Well, let’s begin again. I’m Dream of the Endless. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She smiled sweetly at him.

“I’m Eritaké, and the pleasure is all mine, Dream of the Endless.” To his surprise, she hugged him.

Two days later, they were on horses, taking the road to Constantinople. Calliope decided to go back to Greece, the Endless went back to their realms, except for Dream (well, he went to his realm when everyone was asleep). And Orpheus and Eurydice decided to join Morpheus and Eritaké.

“Are you going to court Eritaké, Father?” Orpheus looked back at the girls as he finished his sentence.

“I am. Are you… good with that?”

“She saved my wife and she is very nice. It seems like you made a good choice in the future.”

“You are not angry? About your mother?”

“I’ve known for a long time now that you and mother have been more friends than husband and wife. I would have been disappointed if you had, actually, continue with Mother when you’ve a perfectly goodl future wife in front of you.” Morpheus smiled to his son.

“Thank you, my son. We need to find a good place for the night and catch some food for the three of you.”

Once they made camp and the fire was lit, they began to trade stories while cooking. Eritaké caught them nice fishes in a river nearby. There should be a village not far away, they would restock there.

“And you, Eritaké? Don’t you want to tell us a story?” asked Eurydice, once her belly was full.

“Unfortunately, I’ve only sad stories in my head right now.”

“We don’t mind. Not all stories are happy.” answered Orpheus.

“Please. Let us hear the story you’ve in mind.” added Morpheus. Eritaké sighed in defeat.

“Very well. Once upon a time,” she began softly, “there was two young people who were very much in love. The young man was an amazing singer and poet. The young woman was beautiful, kind and righteous. During their wedding day, the bride was playing with her fellow women when a man tried to kidnap her. She run, run, run until, by mistake, she stepped on a snake, who bite her. She died a few moments later.” Eurydice shivered. Orpheus gripped her hand so hard she thought he would break it.

“Driven by the loss, her husband sang so mournfully that the gods took pity on him and told him how to travel to the underworld to retrieve her. There, Hades and Persephone were so moved by his song that they agreed to his demand on one condition: his wife would be following him but he had to be always in front of her and to never look back until they were both safe in the living world. The more the young husband was walking, the more he doubt that she was there. But he never looked back. Not until he set foot in the living world. He needed so much to make sure she was there that he turned around and saw her fade away because if he had, indeed, crossed the threshold to Hades’ Kingdom, she was still on the other side. He lost her a second time. He lost his will to live, then, and when the Maenads tore him apart, he left them, thinking about his dear wife.” Morpheus was still and even paler. He even stop pretending to breath.

“His parents were never the same. They grieved apart, after fighting each other and the poor father built more walls around his heart, as to not succumb to his grief. He took a long time for the parents to be able to look at each other again and a little more to be friends again.” Eurydice, the brave girl (and quite a bit the romantic) asked, to lighten the mood,

“Did the parents found someone to love?”

“The father, yes. That I know of. The mother had a terrible ordeal and I think it will take time before she’s ready for another relationship.”

“Did it was love at first sight between the father and his lover?” Eritaké laughed.

“Oh no! Lust, maybe! He looked so much like a mischievous virgin little lordling to the mercenary his future lover was.” And that come like a surprise to the three of them. They knew she was talking about them, it was obvious and they knew she was good with a sword. But mercenary wasn’t what they suspected. “He was such an arrogant little piece of work.” But she was smiling softly, her eyes far away in the memory of their first meeting.

“How long before they were together?”

“A little more than 600 years. They were together for a little less than a year before…” she stopped.  With everything that happened, Eritaké didn’t had the time to let everything sink in. But now, realizing the enormity of the situation, panic began. She got up and apologized before walking away. She needed to be alone, to breath. And that’s when the tears started.

“I need to see Destiny.” stated Morpheus. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t do anything foolish, Father.” The Endless smirked.

“I’ll try.” He disappeared in a whirlwind of sand. “My brother, I’m in my gallery and I hold your sigil. May I come?”

“I’ve been waiting for you, Dream. Come in.”

Destiny was imposing. Not the tallest, that would be Dream; nor the broadest, that would be Destruction; but he was the most imposing one. Probably the privilege of being the eldest.

“I can’t say I’m not happy with the changes Eritaké brought.” began Destiny. “It would have been a very sad future for our family.”

“I don’t understand. Isn’t it your duty to keep the future from changing?”

“Dream… The past is done, there is no chance of changing it… Well, almost none. The present, it’s depends on the situation. But the future… The future is not written in stone, Dream. Paper burns. Ink can be erased. Stories can be changed. Some things will happen. I think that’s why some writing are still blurry...”

“Blurry?” Destiny exhaled slowly.

“Indeed. Some things will happen. Do you want to see, little brother? It’s not necessary. This life is not anymore.”

“I understand, but I need to know.”

“Very well.”

Morpheus saw the death of Eurydice, he saw his son coming to him to help, the rejection and then, his death. He saw how he fought with Calliope, how they separated, him unable to mourn his son properly. He saw how, 2500 years after, his sister forced him in a tavern where a man (Eritaké, he knew instinctively) bragged that Death was stupid and he would never die. He saw himself scoff at the handsome mercenary and his sister amused by Dream’s dismissal. He saw himself walking to his (Hob, they called him) table and challenged him. Both of them had this gleam in their eyes saying “You don’t know what you’re getting into with me”. They were both stubborn then. It was a ‘make it or break it’ situation.

He saw him at his lowest, after 80 years of bad luck and misery. How he lost his wife, his newborn and then his first born, probably around the same age as Orpheus. He saw the relief in his eyes when Hob said that death was a mug’s game. He saw how Hob came to his defence and damn, that was very enticing. He saw himself getting captured, the death of his dear Jessamy, the century in a glass cage. He saw how he missed his appointment with Hob and, to his surprise, he saw how Hob tried first to save the White Horse then find a new place for their meeting.

Did he had so much faith in his return, after the way they parted the last time they met? Did he had so much faith in him, in them? He saw how the centennial meeting became a weekly meeting. How Hob tried to make him enjoy life. How he charmed him and courted him. How they got together. How they fit so well in each other life, how they fit so well together. And he saw the moment Hob disappeared and, probably, came to them.

“Did you see everything you needed, little brother?”

“Yes, thank you, Destiny. Thank you again for having me. Farewell.”

“Until next time, Dream.”

Destiny looked as his brother disappeared from his realm. He resumed his walk toward his personal corner of the garden. There was a desk and everything needed for a writing activity. Dream wasn’t the only lover of arts and stories in the Endless family. But where Dream was more fantasy, Destiny was more historical fiction and what if he got inspiration from the failed futures? Well, sue him. Taking paper and pen (and wasn’t it marvellous that his realm existed outside of time?), he began writing.

Title: ???

Characters: Lord Raven, Knight Columba

Time frame: 14th century

Enemies to lovers, slowburn, 50k/100k, idiots in love.

[pastedpast]

Elizabeth Stuart, Queen of Bohemia.

Portrait by the Workshop of Michiel Jansz. van Mierevelt, c. 1623.

Elizabeth was known as 'the Winter Queen', and her husband Frederick V as 'the Winter King', due to their brief reign as monarchs of Bohemia. They were officially crowned in 1619, but were driven into exile after just one winter [Note: Henry VII, father of Henry VIII, was also known as 'the Winter King'. See documentary here.]

Her biographical details and regal connections are far too complicated to go into here - I suggest a read on Wikipedia and then further afield if you are sufficiently interested. Essentially, she was the second child and eldest daughter of James VI and I, King of Scotland, England, and Ireland, and his wife, Anne of Denmark, and became second-in-line to the throne when her elder brother, Henry Frederick, Prince of Wales, died at the age of 18 of typhoid fever. However, he was eventually succeeded by his younger brother, Charles, as Charles I, as mentioned in previous post here.

Elizabeth's grandson by her daughter Sophia of Hanover succeeded to the British throne as George I, initiating the House of Hanover, when Queen Anne failed to produce any offspring despite 17 pregnancies (she's the subject of a film released in 2018 starring Olivia Colman, 'The Favourite' - I haven't seen it).

I do find this period of history really complicated. Basically, the line of succession after the death of Elizabeth I is as follows:

James I of England & Ireland, and VI of Scotland - r. 1603 - 1625. Son of Mary Queen of Scots and her second husband Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley (who was later murdered, allegedly by Mary's prospective third husband, James Hepburn, 4th Earl of Bothwell]. He was already James VI of Scotland when Elizabeth I died. His coronation united the two crowns, though I'm a bit confused about the exact details, or where Ireland fits into it all.

Charles I - r. 1625 - beheaded in 1649. The period between his execution and the Restoration of the Crown to his son Charles II was called 'The Interregnum'. It was during this time that Oliver Cromwell became Lord Protector (1653 - 58). After his death followed a brief period unsuccessful leadership by his son until the monarchy was restored in 1660. I find this period of history confusing and not of any real interest to me. It just seems to be about a load of unpleasant men fighting for control (aka The English Civil Wars.)

Charles II - r. 1660 - 1685. I don't know much about him, except he was known as 'The Merry Monarch', liked to party and had loads of illegitimate children, but none by his spouse, the Portuguese Catherine of Braganza. Henceforth, upon his death the crown went to his brother, James.

James II of England & Ireland, and VII of Scotland – r. 1685 – 1688. I know nothing about him other than he was married to a woman called Anne Hyde before he came king (I have mentioned her somewhere in an earlier post) and then Italian princess, Mary of Modena. He was succeed by his daughters Mary (along with her husband, the Dutch William of Orange, a grandson of Charles I, see link here) and then Anne.

Mary II of England co-ruled with her husband, who became William III – I haven’t got the dates of their reign to hand. Again, I’m very sketchy about this period of history, all I know is that their rule came about via the ‘Glorious Revolution’ and Protestant 'King Billy' has something to do with Northern Ireland (yeh, my knowledge in this area is really that slim). She died in 1694 and he ruled alone until his own death in 1702, when he was succeeded by Mary’s sister, Anne.

Anne – r. 1702 – 1714. No offspring despite 17 pregnancies, she was succeeded by George I, a German who spoke no English but who had a claim to the throne on account of him being the grandson of James I’s daughter – yep, back to where we started with the Winter Queen, Elizabeth of Bohemia. He would be the first of four Georges; the last of the Hanoverians were William IV and Queen Victoria.

Wow, quite a history lesson, especially for first thing Sunday morning! I will check it later for any errors. It all started simply, due to one of my scrapbook clippings from last night about Elizabeth of Bohemia, whom I'd not heard of before. It's really an attempt to consolidate my learning of this period after the Tudors, but I doubt I shall venture any further. As I've already mentioned here and in previous blog posts, these centuries don't hold much interest for me - a major reason why is I don't like much of the artworks created during these times, it's mainly all portraits of royals and aristocrats posing about in finery, or dull landscapes. But it's handy to try to commit to memory a timeline of who reigned when and the major political events which occurred in those eras.

[ali-labyrinth]

At the risk of sounding REALLY stupid twice in one day

I've been watching the 1619 project on hulu (before I continue I assume that I am infact being the asshole but I don't understand WHY I'm the asshole) and there was one thing said in the healthcare episode that has really been bothering me. Now I know the statistics about maternal and infant mortality rates in America and I know that the numbers are INSANELY DISPROPORTIONATE TOWARDS POC, I am in no way saying they're not or down playing those numbers AT ALL, but I'd also like to point out that across the board America has the most abysmal maternal mortality rates of ANY developed country (incase you didn't know because its important to my point/question). So the episode goes over the history of gynecology (ie. that it was basically developed through experimental, unmedicated, butchering of slave women to make them continue giving birth even when they had pushed their bodies to the limit) and the continued biases affecting modern POC trying to get proper medical care. This is brought home with a heart wrenching story from a mother of twins who lost one of her babies through inadequate care. Now here is my problem, this mother says something along the lines of 'a white woman doesn't go to deliver her babies and worry about if she's going to walk back out' and that has..... really bothered me... I've heard horrific birth stories (from not being listened to when they're in pain, to being assaulted with cervical checks when they state they don't want them, etc etc) from women of all colors (again I'm not arguing that women of color don't suffer these things MORE OFTEN AND DIRECTLY AS A RESULT OF THEIR COLOR) and I myself suffered EXTREME fear when I had my son that I was just going to end up a maternal mortality statistic. So this line has really... stuck with me... I tried talking to my friend about it and she basically said that this line (which I feel like is damaging on the grounds that its implying that white women don't have to worry about these things INSTEAD of really driving home the reality that women of color are suffering disproportionately even compared to women of any other race) is right and just and I'm wrong for feeling like this kind of framing is a disadvantage to us all. She even posited that when I go to a doctor if said doctor causes me pain I will receive sympathy and an apology, which is not true. I'm sure I'm MORE likely to get that than she is, I don't doubt that at all but that doesn't change the worries or injustices I encounter. If I get a bad cut and you break an arm we are both in pain and need of care even if yours is clearly the greater and more urgent.

ultimately I feel like this is a framing issue, but its just.... really bothering me.... and as I said above I'm willing to accept that I'm the asshole here but I want to understand WHY black women can assume to understand my experience when it is wrong for me to assume theirs (I don't have a better way to say that, but I'm not trying to say that white women SHOULD be allowed to assume their experience. Only that neither should have the right to assume the experience of the other).

[lisinfleur]

How love looks like

The request:

Author’s Notes | I hope you like the result, love!

Universe | Vikings

Pairing | Ivar x Reader, Reader’s daughter

Info | Viking Age AU, requested by anon for 5CW Ivar vol. II, posted for HTGI event

Words | 1619

⁑ Warnings: Mentinos to pain, possible incorrect quotes or informations about Ivar’s condition.

She was trembling when she came into my hall for the first time.

"King Ivar."

Even her voice was trembling. I could bet her fingers were cold, although the package in her hands was made of warm blankets. Her dress was ragged here and there, and her hair wasn't properly braided. But her beauty was undeniable.

However, what caught my eyes wasn't her pretty face but the way she approached my throne, bending enough so I could see the little face contorting itself, essaying a cry.

"I beg you... Please help me," she said, eyes teary.

Her hands unfolded the blanket making my eyes large. It was only a second before she folded the blankets around the little girl once again, hiding the twisted bones of her legs from the cold that made the child start cooing, annoyed.

I saw that woman clinging to that package as if her whole life was inside those blankets. And, for a moment, that scene made me remember my mother.

"You lived through it," that woman's voice woke me out of my memories, allowing me to notice the obvious difference between her and my beautiful mother. "I beg you mercy, my lord. Teach me, please. I want her to live. I know she can live! Her father doesn't believe the gods enough, but I saw what they did to you. You've done it. Please, my lord, teach me how to help her."

She didn't want her daughter to survive. No. Mother wanted me to survive. She wanted me to be there for her. That woman wanted her daughter to be like me...

She wanted her daughter to live.

"This Thing is over. I have matters to solve," I said, dismissing the other citizens.

My eyes on her, seeing how strongly she was fighting the tears. Her fear that I wouldn't help stamped on her face.

An expression that vanished completely when I caught my crutch, getting up to walk towards her.

"Bring the girl inside, woman. First lesson you need to learn: it is never warm enough for her."

Her tears broke down, but she nodded. And I could see the determination in her eyes, shining with hope and gratitude over me.

We placed the little girl inside my room, and she slept on my bed while her mother and I sat for a talk.

I discovered her name was Y/N. The little girl she named Eira seeking Eir's mercy over the little one. The bastard she once called a husband expelled them when she refused to leave the little girl to the wolves telling him king Ivar was a great man even being like her.

I was great in her eyes. I was the reason why she had faith her little girl could be someone. Something more than her father's shame...

She asked me for a place to serve in my castle since she had no place to live. I gave her the servant room beside mine and offered to serve me for a payment she could use to sustain herself and her little girl.

She accepted those crumbs as if I was saving her life.

The next day she had her little girl tied to her chest, cleaning and organizing everything I told her to.

During her work, I observed how lovely she was towards that tiny thing tied to her chest, sometimes dancing, sometimes making unnecessary rounds with the broom, everything to keep the little child entertained. The twisted little legs tightly kept against Y/N's chest as she restrained her own movements to avoid hurting her little girl.

That woman was different from anything I'd ever seen. Even from my mother - who would do nothing but care about me, neglecting my brothers, and sometimes herself, to keep me alive. Y/N was doing everything for her daughter, but as soon as the little one was asleep, I saw her brushing her own hair, messing with her clothes to find out the holes and sew them, eating properly from the portions I send to her; ensuring to be healthy and strong to care for the girl she carried around like a little treasure.

It touched my heart one day at a time.

And when the pain came and I saw Y/N in despair, lulling the little Eira trying to make her sleep, I came into her room sitting on the simple bed she would spend her nights on, and extending my arms towards her.

Her eyes were full of faith when she delivered the little Eira in my hands, observing as I gently placed the little one on the basked, moving her legs as little as possible until they were well supported and warmed by the blankets around her. With my fingers, I mashed some of my own herbs letting drops of the bitter juice fall into the little one's mouth, observing as it slowly did its job, relieving the pain and allowing Eira to fall asleep.

It was the first time I saw Y/N crumble in front of me, bitting her lips to cry in silence the anguish of her little girl's pain but also the relief of seeing she was finally tranquil.

I would see that several times. I would help Y/N to immobilize Eira's broken little legs properly to prevent them from healing the wrong way. I would help her to care for the little one's wounds when they came. And when nothing would help Eira's pain, I would help Y/N's to hold on to her faith that the gods had granted her daughter a better fate.

Whenever that little child slept after my touch, I felt a little like Harbard, taking away her pain like he'd done for me when I was younger. But, unlike me, Eira had my knowledge to help her grow better. To help her suffer less.

I didn't see when that little girl and her mother invaded my heart. Y/N learned from me to care for her child, but I saw her using what she'd learned several times to care for me instead.

She was the one providing my teas, helping with my wounds, sewing protections to make my braces more comfortable...

Relieving my pain. My loneliness.

Standing beside me even in my worst days, Y/N became someone I couldn't see myself without. Someone I didn't want to see myself without. And along with her, Eira also became a part of my life, making my heart melt when she started dragging herself around my hall like I used to do, imitating so soon the ways I had fought so hard to learn by myself.

She would come to me full of trust and laugh at me so easy!

Sometimes she wouldn't sleep if I wasn't near. Sometimes I would hear Y/N telling her my story, painting me as some kind of hero Eira was starting to follow.

And it would make me proud.

Y/N made me proud of what was once my worst shame. She made me feel I wasn't incomplete, nor half of a man. She made me feel my whole life had sense, meaning.

I'd come like that, with my twisted legs and pain, cause the gods knew my mind was gifted. The gods knew I would create ways to live.

And now, my ways were making Eira's life possible.

Better.

Easier.

Slowly, I took Y/N more and more from the service of the hall. Soon, she was something like a personal servant to me. She would go anywhere I would go, and I wouldn't want anyone but her around when I was moody or living a bad day.

She became my relief as much as I once was hers.

It was inevitable to fall in love with that woman. To bring her into my life. To want her as my queen.

"I want you, Y/N. I want Eira. And I don't want to ever hear about your ex-husband once again. He's nothing but past. He's nobody. She's my little girl, and this is how I want things to be now."

She didn't argue. But I could see it wasn't the initial fear that prevented her from arguing with me or trying to contradict my arguments. Y/N's fingers touched my face that night and she touched our foreheads with tenderness.

"I wouldn't want any different," I remember she said.

Her nose nuzzling against mine in a caress I would discover it was my favorite sensation in Midgard.

"Eira is my gift from the gods. And they've decided to bless me again with you."

Now my little Eira was twelve years old. Her little braces were reproductions of mine, in a smaller size. She couldn't run around with the other children, but she would spend hours playing hnefatafl with me, making me the best company I could ever want.

She was definitely better than I ever was. Always filling our hearts with joy whenever she would play with her two little brothers the gods had blessed me with.

I'd noticed her blood-father walking around sometimes, looking at her at the market or observing as she would easily walk with her crutch around, sometimes trying to go a little faster than she really could just to show me something she wanted or giggle with her usual playful tone. I could see he regretted his mistake, but I never gave him a chance to approach, always looking at him with blues icy cold. A warning that it was too late for his excuses.

Y/N and Eira were mine now. My little princess, my queen.

They’d become my treasures.

And his time to claim back what he'd left was long gone.

[mandowh0re]

Remember Me

Chapter 1

Summary: While cleaning up the timelines that he broke, Loki meets and inevitably loses the one person that's understood him in life. But he's not losing you without a fight

A/N: Beta'd by @edgyvege

Warnings: Mentions of death

Word Count: 1619

Happy reading!

It’s a quiet evening, and the Avengers that lived in the compound decided to take advantage of the rainy evening and have a movie night. Steve had called Tony over, who had brought Peter with him. The father and son duo has stopped on the way from the city to pick up a plethora of unhealthy snacks, including everyone’s favorite chips and candies.

They’re currently all settled in the common room watching She-Ra. Peter’s head is resing on Tony’s shoulder, Thor is snuggled up to Bruce, Natasha and Clint are sitting in the same recliner, Wanda and Vision are on one side of the love seat, Steve on the other side of Tony, Bucky and Sam sitting on the floor behind the coffee table.

They’re at the part where Adora is being stalked by Shadow Weaver in Mystacor, when the TV suddenly flickers, the audio warping. There’s a buzzing sound behind them closer to the kitchenette.

Everyone straightens in their seats, suddenly on alert.

“Friday,” Tony barks, pushing Peter behind him, “Lights.”

The lights cut on and everyone in the room watches as the air seems to distort and glow, similarly to when the sun beats down on the pavement, before a blonde man walks out with a cuffed and collared Loki behind him.

Every person in the room jumps into a defensive stance, some already with weapons that are always stashed and hidden throughout the compound, and each ready to fight at a moment’s notice.

Thor leaps over the couch and calls his hammer to him in one swift movement, but he doesn’t look frightened or angry.

He just looks… Mournful.

“Loki?” He says with apprehension, tilting his head.

It looks like Loki, and he’s certainly bound the way Loki should be if he were up to no good. But he watched Loki die. He watched Thanos crush the life out of him and toss him to the floor of that ship as if he were a worthless piece of balled up paper.

The blonde man holds up his hands in front of himself, as if to signal that they’re not here to cause any harm.

“Please, allow me to explain why we are here before this turns ugly.” The stranger pleads.

Thor looks back to his team, making eye contact with Tony and Steve.

They look apprehensive, and Tony has an iron grip on his kid, but Steve nods carefully.

Thor turns back to the stranger and nods, but his focus is mainly on Loki, “Go ahead.”

The man drops his hands and pockets them before beginning his story, “Okay. My name is Mobius, and I am a Timekeeper. My job, like Thor is probably aware, is to keep the timelines safe, intact, and to keep them from ever intersecting. When the Avengers used the Pym Particles to go back in time and retrieve the Infinity Stones; Stark, Rogers, Banner, and Lang went back to the Battle of New York in 2012. When they infiltrated the 2012 Avengers to get a hold of the tesseract, they made an error that caused the tesseract to fall into the hands of that Loki.”

Thor’s brows shot up to his hairline and he whipped around to look at Tony, “What? Why was I not informed of this?”

Now it’s Tony’s turn to hold his hands up, “Okay, hey. We didn’t have time to focus on that, and you were still grieving your brother. It would not have done anyone any good to bring it up while we were still in the fight of our lives.”

“And what about after?” He barks.

“While I agree this is something you all should discuss, I respectfully ask that you do that later,” Mobius interrupts, “I have places to be.”

Thor huffs and gives Tony one last glare before he turns back to the two other men.

“Right, anyways. When Loki took the tesseract and escaped, he broke that timeline. It caused multiple branches off of it,” He starts to take a step forward to the group, but decides against it when Thor’s nostrils flare, “We tracked him down, arrested him, and brought him into custody. He was given the option of life in prison or parole if he agreed to help us fix the timeline and erase the others. And I’m sure you can imagine what he chose.”

“I mean, there wasn’t much of a choice, was there?” Loki mumbles.

“Do you mind?” Mobius mumbles back, then turns to finish his story, “Through several months of helping us, Loki has proved himself to be, well, no longer a universal threat.”

“How do we know you aren’t under some spell of his?” Natasha asks, “Or working with him?”

“You don’t,” Mobius shrugs, “But he does know everything that has happened to him and those around him up until his final death. He was given the choice of choosing where he wanted to go at his time of being released, and I believe it says something for him to choose here.”

“Not much, actually. He’s manipulative.” Steve chimes in.

Mobius holds a finger up, “That he is. But unlike before, he has a lot more to lose this time.”

Thor crosses his arms, “And what would that be?”

***

You hum as you stock the shelves with the new shipment of books you just received.

It’s a nice day out. Mid April, the trees and flowers are blooming, and it’s finally nice enough outside to leave windows open. The mini fan is running on the counter where the register is, and the music is flowing quietly throughout your shop.

A very pleasant day, indeed.

You hear the windchimes attached to the shop door tinkle brightly, and you call over your shoulder as you finish placing the last few books, “Welcome! I’ll be right with you!”

When you’re finished, you grab the now empty cardboard box and use your pocket knife to break it down as you walk back to the front of the small store.

When you look up, a tall man with dark hair and a black suit is standing by the register, hands in his pockets. He’s incredibly handsome and as your eyes scan his features, you can’t help but feel like you have seen him before.

“Hi! How can I help you?” You ask, tossing the now flattened box onto a pile of others before walking behind the counter.

The man looks at you, tearing his gaze from a picture you had behind the counter, and his eyes meet yours. For the briefest of moments, you think you see grief flash across his emerald eyes. But as quick as you think you saw it, it's gone.

“Hello,” He greets, his voice satiny smooth, “A friend of mine recommended a book, and I was wondering if you could help me get my hands on a copy.”

“Sure!” You lean against the counter and fold your hands, “What’s it called?”

“I believe it’s called Norse Mythology, written by a Neil Gaiman.”

Your eyes light up and you push off your elbows to stand, “That’s my favorite book! Your friend must have amazing taste!” You wink.

He nods, eyes never leaving you, “I like to think so.”

“I definitely have it! Can’t really consider myself a good bookstore owner if I don’t keep my favorite books in stock, follow me.” You walk out from behind the counter and wave the handsome man to follow you. You know exactly where to go, and weave expertly between the shelves of your small shop. You finally come to a halt and reach down to grab the book, handing it to him, “Here you are.”

He takes the book from you and offers a kind smile and he turns it over in his hands, reading the back, “Thank you.”

“Of course, let’s go get you checked out,” You smile, staring at the handsome stranger before you realize what you’re doing.

The two of you walk back to the front of the store, and he lays the book down for you to scan it.

You take another look at him, and you’re not sure what possesses you to say it. You later account it to having been alone for so long.

“Actually- Here...” You lean down under the counter where you have your own stash of books, and grab your own copy of Norse Mythology. You stand back up and place it in front of him, “Why don’t you borrow my copy? I know it’s not as pretty as a new one, but if you don’t like it, you won’t have wasted the money. If you do like it, we can talk about it. Either way, you’ll have to return it,” You look down to the countertop before bringing your eyes to meet him once more, “And I can see you again.”

A beautifully sweet smile spreads across the man’s face. His eyes flicker down, noticing that you’re picking at your nails; it’s your nervous habit. He places a hand on the worn paperback book, “Lovely. Sounds like a plan to me. Shall we say next week, this time?”

Your smile brightens considerably, and you feel butterflies come to life in your belly, “See you then.”

He bends at the waist, bowing slightly, and turns to leave. You watch as his slender hand grabs the door knob, when a thought occurs to you.

“Wait!” You shout, reaching out your hand.

He stops dead in his tracks and turns back to you, an eyebrow quirked.

“What’s your name?”

He stiffens slightly. It’s so subtle that you barely notice it, but you do. Finally, a soft look adorns the man’s handsome features, and he looks a little sad. But he still answers.

“Loki.”

***

Remember Me Taglist: @idunnomayn

Permanent Taglist: @a-place-to-blog-marvel-stuff @yes-iamironman-blog @paradoxicalblueberry @the-regal-warrior @transparentparadiseglitterzombie @marvelgem @propertyofmarvel @avngrsinitiative @my-leg-is-not-a-chew-toy @lyricalstella-blog @just-the-daydreamer @hufflely-puffly

[mssleepy876b]

Family Ties Chapter 8

Summary: Family can be a positive and negative force in one’s life. Detective Jay Halstead knows that personally and he helps a new Intelligence family member through it.

Requested? No. But promised @resanoona that I would post mine once she posted hers.

Word count: 1619

Warnings: domestic violence, PTSD possible

A/n: Unedited, Sorry for any mistakes

Family Ties Chapter 8

Later that evening, the debate began about how to handle Brie’s safety within the Intelligence Unit. “Sergeant, if I stop living my life, he wins. Yes, he scares the hell out of me, but I also can’t just collapse back to that girl that arrived on this precinct’s doorstep 18 months ago, Hank.” She argued with him calmly sitting in his office. Voight would never admit that he enjoyed his arguments with her because she always met him point for point with details and facts not emotions.

“Brielle, I understand that completely. And I know your family and friends are proud of the growth you have made since then. But as we know Michael has no thoughts to stop. He sees you as property and I can’t just let you be out there without backup from this team. I owe that much to you, your dad and mom, and your friends and family who have seen you grow this past year.” Voight said to her moving to place a hand on her shoulder as she sat on the couch in his office.

Brie ran her hands through her hair. She knew Voight was right, but she didn’t like it. “I hate that I have to be monitored and watched while that person gets to waltz around free.” She said quietly.

Hank moved to sit near her. “I know, Brielle. But I have to do what I can to keep you safe. Plus, did you think I would let anyone outside of this team take care of you?” he said placing his hand on her arm.

She sighed and spoke. “I trust you all, but I don’t want to be a liability to the team. You all work well as a unit. If that has to break because of me, I’d feel guilty, Hank.”

“Hey, we will get you through this.” He said moving to exit the office. “Burgess, you and Rojas stay with Brielle tonight and we will arrange new evening details etc. tomorrow.” He said.

The others moved to get organized as Jay moved to talk to Hank. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Will he even try tonight, Sarge?”

“Not sure, but I want you to start to organize a plan going forward. I gave my word to her father we would keep her safe. She’s family. She’s like my own daughter. DiLeone will not hurt her again.” Hank said moving back into his office.

Jay was up later that evening working on the security plans when his phone rang. It was Brie. “It’s Jay.” He answered not looking at the phone screen.

“Jay, are you free to talk? It’s Brielle.” she asked him. He could hear the concern in her voice as well as some uncertainty.

“Sure, Brielle. Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Not really, just unsure of what to do.” She said.

“Explain what you mean Brie.” He said moving from the table to look out the windows of his apartment towards where he knew she lived.

“I feel like I am hindering the team, Jay. You all work so well together and trust each other but it is like I am taking from that for this protection detail. It makes me feel guilty.” She said softly. “I feel like I am taking the team apart and I am almost thinking about removing myself from the team so you can work at full capacity.”

“But where would you go, Brie? You know he is having you watched, and he will track you down. He will probably try to hurt you again. Are you ready for that?” he told her being honest and upfront with her.

“I don’t know, Jay. I just feel bad. All this chaos is created due to my past. I worry about effecting cases. You guys have more people in Chicago to help than just me.” She said as he heard her voice crack with emotion.

“Hey, as Voight would say Intelligence is a family and you are a part of that family so we will watch your back. Plus, we kind of like having you around you make our life easier with the paperwork.” He said to her joking hearing her slight laugh knowing it would bring a smile to her face. “Get a good night’s sleep before you make any choices, okay?” he said quietly to her.

“I will, Jay. I promise. Good night. Sleep well, Detective.” She said ending the phone call. He locked his own phone still looking out the window towards her apartment.

The next day, Jay entered Hank’s office with an idea for security, but it would possibly anger Michael. It would allow her to be with a member of the unit on her time off, but it would involve presenting a lie to the world around them. Jay was concerned over Michael’s reaction but knew that Brie would trust him and the team to take the right course to end this insanity. “Well, Halstead?” Voight asked.

“I have an idea, but it would involve a modified uncover portion.” Jay said. Hank motioned for him to sit and continue. “Michael knows this precinct is on the lookout for him so he can only act when she is not here. Keeping one of us near her at all times is only going to work in one way that I can see, Sergeant. I would pose as her boyfriend. I would want to see how Brie felt about it, but it would solve many of our concerns. She could stay in my spare room at my place or I could stay at her place. She could ride to and from work with me as well as go out in the evenings or over the weekends.” He said quickly.

Hank thought for a moment, “It puts a target on your back, Halstead.”

“I know but she trusts me, and do you honestly think I wouldn’t keep an eye on her anyway.” He said to Voight.

Hank nodded and stood going to the door. “Brielle, come in here, please.” He called across the bullpen. She looked surprised but quickly stood from her desk and walked from her desk into Hank’s Office. She moved and took a seat near Jay. He could smell her Vanilla scent as the air carried it from her body. She smiled at Jay but was curious as to the reason she was called in. “Brie, I asked Jay to design a security plan for you considering his experience that would allow us to protect you when you are not in the precinct. He did that but the best plan would involve a bit of acting for both of you, if you agree.” He said. Brie looked confused from Hank to Jay giving Hank the opening to continue. “We would organize things to appear in public that you and Jay are in a relationship together.” He said.

Brie looked surprised but blushed at the thought crossing her mind. Taking a moment to think, she turned to Jay and spoke. “Are you sure? I mean is this really the best way, Jay? Michael would hurt you just to spite me. He will go after the rest of the team too but anyone close to me will have a major target on their backs.” She said rambling as her voice seemed to waver with emotion.

Jay looked at her. “Brie, you know this team has your back and you trusted me from the moment we met. I have run every other option I can think of and this is the best way to protect you outside of here. You would stay in my guest room or I can sleep at your place. We would spend time together outside of the precinct if you weren’t with the others from the team and just be together. We are good friends already Brielle. And if Michael is the kind of guy that I think he is, he already knows that we are close.” He said honestly to her.

Brie sat in surprise and Jay watched as her eyes moved back and forth as she thought over their suggestion. “Who would know the truth?” she asked.

Hank answered, “The team would know but we would try to isolate it to that.” He said.

Hank and Jay watched as her eyes continued to move showing her thoughts racing in her mind. “And you are sure there are no other options that would work better?” she asked quietly.

Jay turned to her and moved her chin to look at him. “Nothing else would be a better option, Brie. I was up last night looking over all options and there just isn’t one. I know this would be a stretch for you, but I would be right there with you.” He said to her.

“How would this work?” she asked.

“We would need to start tonight but obviously our parts would be of a new relationship so nothing you are uncomfortable with. But we would just be together.” Jay said calmly feeling her hand reach out for his.

“Okay. I agree. But as soon as Michael is caught, or this whole drama ends, so does this act between us, Jay. I won’t force you into anything beyond this.” She said calmly. He could feel her hand shaking as she tried to control her emotions knowing a man, she had feelings for would be acting as her boyfriend, a man who appears to the world to love her despite what chaos has brought their way.

Hank spoke first. “Alright, we will start today. I’ll go brief the team. You two may need to talk.” He said leaving them alone closing his office door behind him.

[ratatatastic]

the love is stored in presser partners choosing to stay for foreign media segments because the buddy system shant never fail! (but also theyre terribly in love its not even funny like this is just spouse duties like buddy system but they are also married dont forget that)

no it really gets me that matthew was so prepared to leave the minute he was allowed to like a kid hearing the dismissal bell but went WAIT united front united front united front "ill wait for you" and adjusts his shawl so daintly like he meant to do that like he absolutely wasnt gonna book it a second ago...YEAH SUPPORT YOUR SPOUSE YA NUMBSKULL THESE ARE TRYING TIMES

our lady forgot her manners for a second please forgive her she too is going through these trying times...

sasha was absolutely succumbing to the fate of being alone considering how flighty his wife was being beside him but still appreciates the effort nonetheless for staying... the way he was :[ and then absolutely lights up when matthew says that he'll wait and he goes "thank you :)" UNITED FRONTTTTTTTTT THE SANCTITY OF MARRIAGE THROUGH SICKNESS AND THROUGH HEALTH AND ALSO AWFUL MEDIA SCRUMS APPARENTLY WOOOOOOOO YALL HAVE NOTHING ON WHATEVER THESE TWO GOT GOING ON WOOOOOOOOOO

post practise interview | 6.23.24 (x)

and obviously the most important part in all of this? tit scratch.

[micheldechevin]

Gladiolus Pt. 1

I decided to start a Flower Language series for Dr. Richter. This is the second one in the series, the first was actually a request, but if you like it I would appreciate if you gave it Kudos on my AO3 Link to the fic on ao3 Pairing: MC x Vyn Richter Series: Tears of Themis Rating: T Word Count: 1619 Chapters: 1/2

It had been several weeks, and Rosa still felt no closer to the end of this case. Every new turn she took lead to a dead end and while usually it didn’t frustrate her to this degree she couldn’t help but feel a lot rode on this. Even the Beautiful Gladiolus that Dr. Richter had given her were looking sad and frustrated—she hadn’t changed the water nearly enough as she had been too busy. It was a shame that the petals were wilting and gathering around the bottom of the Vase. It was an on the nose metaphor for how she felt right now, wilting and gathered around the bottom of this case.

She was about to delve back into the pits of her notes, when her phone buzzed on the table next to her. It was Dr. Richter—almost as if he knew she was thinking about him. For a moment, she considered not answer; he would know she wasn’t sleep well pretty immediately, but her desire to be honest won out in the end. There wasn’t a point to hiding anything from her and she did want to speak to him. It had been a handful of Saturdays since they last had tea together and she….missed him very dearly. With a sigh, she tried to put on her cheeriest tone as she answered; knowing that it wouldn’t fool him in the slightest.

“Hello? Dr. Richter?” Rosa answered in the same polite tone she always used, but she could practically hear him frowning on the other end of the—oh no caught already. She couldn’t help but wonder if maybe on some level she wanted to be found out because she knew he would want to take care of her. Despite all of her good intentions—there were times where she was just a little bit selfish.

“Rosa,” There was a pause on the other end. “Are you feeling well?” He didn’t even bother to say hello much to her dismay; she really wasn’t good at hiding her lack of sleep and her emotional turmoil from him. “You have not been over working yourself, have you?” It was a rhetorical question, she could tell he didn’t need an answer. There was concern mixed with dissatisfaction in his voice. This is what she wanted to avoid by not contacting him as much lately—but she was a little relieved that she could have someone to talk to now. Even her boss had been mostly shut out while she worked—this was a case for her to do and she wanted to prove herself.

“No point in lying is there?” A soft laugh, one that wasn’t echoed from her...friend. “I may have been skipping a few hours, and focusing only on this case, yes.” A pause. “I’m sorry Dr. Richter.” For what she was apologizing for, she wasn’t sure but it seemed necessary. Maybe for his concern? Or all of the Tea time she had missed? Maybe the lack of calling and texting. Maybe for all of it. “It’s just...this case is very important for me, my client is very upset and I know she didn’t do it; but the further I dig the harder it is to piece everything together.” She knew she was right, but she was starting to doubt her capabilities—not a path she usually traveled mentally but it was just difficult.

There was a long silence on the other end, before Dr. Richter spoke up. “Perhaps, I could come and help you sort through your thoughts.” It was less of a question and more of a statement, he was inviting himself over as politely as he could, and Rosa wasn’t someone who would refuse company of her closest companion. She wasn’t sure when they had fallen into this sort of closeness, but there was nothing she minded less. Instead she hummed her approval, checking the time. It was only 3pm and she was already exhausted. Maybe a distraction would be for the best. They both hung up, and Rosa made for the bathroom to make herself look less exhausted.

--------

It was about a half an hour before Dr. Richter arrived with and odd assortment of things; Fresh Gladiolus, Madeleines and tea to brew. Rosa couldn’t stop herself from smiling just a little as she answered the door—though it was obvious she had fallen asleep and only woke as he tapped on the door. “I still have the last Gladiolus you brought me.” Rosa stood off to the side allowing him to enter and set his things on the kitchen counter—immediately turning to change out the water and flowers from the vase that sat on the counter near her things.

“I made the assumption that if you were not sleeping well you would not be changing out the water.” It wasn’t chastisement of any kind, it was a gentle plea to accept his help. “I also had hopes that fresh Flowers would temporarily brighten your mood so that you might be able to allow yourself rest.” Vyn had turned to Rosa, frowning ever so slightly—he didn’t like seeing her this way; tired and at the end of her rope, and to a degree he felt helpless. There was a number of things he could do for her clinically but he didn’t want to help her in such a sterile fashion, he wanted her to depend on him in a more intimate way but he also knew he couldn’t force it.

Vyn watched Rosa sit down and look at her notes again, her brow furrowing; she already looked close to forgetting he was here at all and normally he wouldn’t mind but that would defeat the purpose of his visit. He was here to soothe and distract. Swallowing his formalities and manners, he reached across the counter and rested his hand atop hers, which immediately on the page. “Rosa, please take a rest; you can not do much for your client if you work yourself past a reasonable limit and I am sure whoever they may be that they would agree.” His tone was soft, tender teetering on the edge of loving.

He was right of course, this was no way to do this. “I know you’re right but….” The but was the end of the sentence, there was no argument she could have back—especially not with his hand on hers...it was so warm. Not a callus to be found anywhere, her heart was racing. Perhaps for his sake, she could rest. Rosa relented, but left her hand under his. “Alright, you’re the Psychiatrist, you would know better.” Still she didn’t close her notebook, she didn’t want to lose his touch just yet.

“Thank you.” To Vyn, it was clear what she meant by not removing her hand. His heart flipped and he gave a light squeeze. He was a little glad he had won out against her insistence to keep going. A relief, he wouldn’t have to worry just yet—not more than he already was. “I brought Chamomile with me this time because it has relaxing properties and I also brought more of the madeleines we liked.” They had eaten those a month ago, but now they had been incorporated in several of their visits. Her wanted to do anything to bring Rosa comfort. “If after we take a break together,” He removed his hand to turn towards her cabinets to find a tea pot, “You feel you need to keep going I will talk through it with you. Sometimes a second mind can help one sort facts and emotions. Especially a third party with no prior opinions.” Vyn found what he was looking for and quickly filled the pot with water.

“That sounds good to me Dr. Richter…” Rosa closed her notes and pushed them off to the side, eyes turning towards the fresh Gladiolus in the pot. Yes her mood was already improving. “Thank you, for everything. I would like some help talking through this, there are a few things I’m a little hung up on, but for now we take a break.” Her gaze turned to Dr. Richter's back—the sunlight filtering in through the windows casting a halo glow around his silver hair. Every so often, she was reminded of how breath taking he was, not that she was willing to voice that to him—but he was. The glow of his hair, the tenderness of his voice, the deep pools of summer golden eyes. Ethereal wouldn’t be too far off, but that was a little embarrassing. Her eyes were growing heavy accompanied by thoughts of Doctors and Halos. She was far more tired than she realized, and now that work had been removed from her sight, her almost reckless schedule was catching up.

“I would like nothing more than to help you walk through your case, and perhaps you can have a full rest after.” Vyn gave all of his attention to the pot, not realizing Rosa has slumped and started dozing. It was several moments later when the tea was made that he turned around realizing she had fallen asleep on him. Vyndidn’t mind—in fact he was relieved, she must have needed the sleep if she napped with company. Another, deeper part of him felt pleased that he was deemed safe enough to sleep near. Setting the cups to the side, he walked around the counter and rested his jacket over her shoulders carefully, not wanting to disturb her. With a pat on her head, he wandered back to the sink—he would tidy up to keep himself occupied while she slept even if it took all night.

[entoman-created-by-the-tallgreys]

2045

You see after all the stuff I want to let you know is that the year 2045 it's when the gray aliens magically disappear like a giant missing 411 episode

And I believe I know it sounds stupid and I sound stupid and I think I sound stupid and hearing myself say the words I just think stupid

But the only thing logical conclusion I can come to is that I think judgment Day happens that year

Keep in mind the world's going to literally look like this

I'm not making stuff up I swear to God this stuff literally

30 years ago when the gray aliens were giving me and my people visions and they were psychically programming us and telling us basically what to think but above all they're getting his visions and basically giving us like deja vu programming

Basically they were showing us our entire life before they happened why our bodies incubated in the giant green water tanks

While our baby bodies floated they programmed our souls

Telepathy just showed that stuff but near the end they open the portal to 2045 on the earth keep in mind this was around the year 1990

And there was no planet Earth anymore and everything was fire I mean the whole planet was fire

And it stayed that way for billions of years

Hundreds of billions of years

. . .

My overall point is that at the year 2045 everyone's gone the ghosts are gone all the animal monsters we have to survive throughout the years after humanities extinction of the Year 2023 I know it sounds stupid I'm not stupid it's what I was told by them I don't think they're lying they done they work super hard to earn my trust they've intensely just because they trying to communicate in their horrified and really angry how annoying it to try to get somebody's, Trust !

So they work hard to not lie

And at this point I trust him I said I trust him I didn't say I like them 👽

But the whole world is gone and well the old world didn't burn down because of climate change and on top of it all all the souls are gone and I don't think it was because of a UFO the gray aliens are gone all the reptilians are gone it seems like 90% of all life in the universe is just disappeared and a giant missing 411 case

All the demons are gone all the ghosts are gone I think that's judgment Day ?!

I do I think that was judgment Day

The year 2045 only a few people are on the earth and they're not here to suffer they're here to start new life

Me and my people before ones the ones I've taken against our Free Will in the spirit round the ones that had no Rite

Being on the Earth ever again and was forced here because of the great alien agenda the insectoid agenda

I know it sounds stupid maybe crazy I don't care but what I know I'm telling you is true and I really think that that might be judgment Day that might be the power of the universe also known as God

He just makes everyone go missing call on one I think that was the rapture

Everyone's just gone doesn't matter where you are you just are gone like magic like someone snapped their fingers and you cease to exist

😐

The great aliens turned and said that they're gone and they kept saying it was a glitch or mistake or an error but all the psychics on the ship which they're all psychic but there's some that are super psychic the taller Gray ...... it's complicated

Kept saying that no everyone's gone and everyone got real quiet and afraid we just wanted to leave but they got hostile towards us and said no you have to go

You have to go down to the Earth and be part of the agenda so our souls was forced into all of this our souls are forced here our souls were forced to obey and I really feel like I can compare myself to the African-Americans of 1619

And if any African-American is reading my post and they want to screen the word races I want to let you know honestly that my skin is not actually white it's actually Gray to be completely honest my skin is light gray naturally but they made a patch to make me look ultra white I hate this white skin it's ugly

And if there is an African-American watching my post I'm not mentally ill and I'm not on drugs and I'm not drinking alcohol I don't ever do that stuff ever !

[ottomanladies]

Hi again! How safe is it to say that Mehmed was actually Kosem's oldest son? Is it like 50/50 for him being and not being her true son or is it pretty much confirmed (which again is a bad word because with history, nothing can ever be known for certain)? I just find the period odd because she's basically never mentioned in connection to his last years and execution or at least nowhere that I know of.

I'm pretty sure I have already talked about this so I hope I'm not repeating myself here but basically, that Kösem was Ahmed's second-born son's mother is said by various sources who were not in contact with each other (ie. they couldn't have "copied" one another) therefore giving validity to the claim.

The main reasoning comes from The Debut of Kösem Sultan's Political Career by Baki Tezcan

Pietro della Valle in 1614 — while in Istanbul — says that Kösem was the mother of Ahmed I's second son. In another letter, in 1619, he talks about a "Prince Mahmud", whom he refers to as Kösem's eldest son. Mahmud is most probably a mistake for Mehmed (rather than Murad)

George Sandys in A Relation of a Journey begun an: dom: 1610 — most probably written in 1610 — affirms that Kösem was Ahmed I's second-born son's mother

Ottaviano Bon, the Venetian ambassador, writes in his report that in 1609 (or maybe earlier), Ahmed I has two sons and two daughters by three women (but that two sons have already died in infancy). Considering that Murad's year of birth is 1612, the second son cannot be him. The two princes are clearly Osman and Mehmed

Simone Contarini, Venetian ambassador, in 1612 states that Osman goes for carriage rides with the mother of the second-born son, who is called "queen". That's Kösem, as there was not a higher-ranking woman in the harem at that time.

Cristoforo Valier states that Ahmed has two sons with "the sultana alive". As he died in July 1615 in Corfu while returning to Venice, he left Istanbul earlier than that. Clearly, though, he was there when Murad was born in July 1612, and this is why he says that Kösem's sons are two.

This is only the stuff we get from official reports. Dispatches are shorter letters that the Venetian ambassadors routinely sent back to Venice and they could be more precise but they're not published and not accessible (unless you physically go to the Archive of Venice)

Valier is used by Peirce (and others, I guess) as evidence that Mehmed cannot have been Kösem's son but, I believe that she made a mistake when she translated the Italian original. This is what she said in The Imperial Harem:

As a small boy, Osman went for carriage rides with Kösem; he liked to make himself seen during these outings by casting coins to bystanders. Eventually Ahmed interfered with this relationship between his son and his haseki: the ambassador Valier reported in 1616 that the sultan did not allow the two eldest princes (Osman and Mehmed) to converse with Kösem. His motive perhaps, as Valier speculated, was fear that the princes' security was threatened by Kösem's well-known ambitions for her own sons.

The problem with this interpretation is that Valier doesn't say "the two eldest princes" but Osman and his younger brother (because, as he had said at the beginning of the paragraph, Ahmed has "two sons with the living sultana and two with the sultana who died"):

"... parendo che il Re non lo lasci conversare con la sultana vivente, siccome né anco il fratello minore, stimando forse che siano più sicuri lontani da lei, tanto riesce sospetta l’emulazione dell’impero […]” // It seems that the King won't let him, or his younger brother, converse with the living sultana, maybe thinking that they're safer far from her, her ambitions to rule known.

So yeah. Personally, I'm quite sure that Kösem was Mehmed's mother. She is consistently identified like that in contemporary sources (not only Venetian but English and most probably French too) but, for some reason, modern historians discarded them.

As for why she is not mentioned in relation to Mehmed's execution. Well... we don't really know if she wasn't. I'm pretty sure that Giustinian's dispatches mention Mehmed's execution and maybe Kösem's reaction to it— I haven't read them, though, and when I last went to my uni library I deliberately skipped his official report because I'm an idiot.

In any case, it's also possible that her reaction wasn't recorded because being secluded in the Old Palace, no one reached her. Between November 1617 and September 1623, she lived in the Old Palace with her daughters and could not leave it under any conditions (so everything we see at the end of MC:K S1 is totally false— as per usual). I'm not surprised if European ambassadors were silent on her during this period.

[all-pacas]

books!!! 4 / 6 / 17?

4. Did you discover any new authors that you love this year?

Anthony Doer, who i'm going to mention again at length in 17, if he counts, as i read one book by him and it blew me away and promptly went out and got 'all the light we cannot see,' which won the pulitzer a year or two ago — i'm kind of saving it to be my first book of 2021 but i'm very hopeful.

otherwise — hmm, i don't think i really read too many of the same author twice. there's definitely authors who if i see their name on a book i haven't read i'll probably pick it up.

6. Was there anything you meant to read, but never got to?

want to re-read house of leaves. meant to around halloween and did not. it's just sitting on my bookshelf in my line of sight, waiting. i also have a medium sized pile of Books I Haven't Actually Read that i will try my hardest to get through this year; just to shame myself they are:

A Constellation of Vital Phenomena, Anthony Marra (read another novel of his, The Tsar of Love and Techno and loved it)

Four Hundred Souls, a Community History of African America 1619-2019

Man Tiger, Eka Kurniawan (his novel Beauty is a Wound is unironically one of my favorites despite how Weird it is)

Infinite Country, Patricia Engel (BOTM, never got around to it)

The Politics of Our Time, John B Judis

Harlem Shuffle, Colson Whitehead

The Lost Apothecary, Sarah Penner (another BOTM; didn't like the two chapters i tried but want to give it another shot — plus, it's short)

Frederick Douglass, David W Blight (got about halfway through and put it down and the problem with nonfiction is that it's super easy to lose the thread, so i think i need to start over)

The Making of Home, Judith Flanders (nonfiction)

The Ocean and the End of the Lane, Neil Gaiman

The Committed, Viet Thanh Nyuyen (wanted to re-read The Sympathizer first)

The Topeka School, Ben Lerner

The Water Dancer, Ta-Nehisi Coates

All the Light We Cannot See, Anthony Doer (mentioned above)

and of course, War and Peace. because eventually you gotta.

17. Did any books surprise you with how good they were?

Cloud Cuckoo Land, by Anthony Doer, which i rambled about incoherently through my tears here — i liked it immediately, it's well and cleanly written, it has timejumps and narrative threads and interesting characters, but then the last third of the book he just pulls back the curtain and ties it all together and when i say i cried for the last hour? it's not a sad book. it is bittersweet and sad things happen but it is also humanist and sentimental and no one is truly evil and those that are can grow and change, and it all tied together and when i say! i cried!

i'm also going to say The Book of Longings, Sue Monk Kidd, which i got thru BOTM and was like "this is going to be super weird or super trolling" and ended up being played completely straight — the story of the (fictional) wife of jesus. that jesus. it was hard to read in places because it was so weird, but it was ultimately a good book and well written and it made me think about why i, a nonreligious person, a Jew(tm), am squeamish about seeing jesus treated as a fictional character in that way. the book has flaws (the second half of it has trouble giving ana, the heroine, a compelling plot and narrative while it kills time until jesus dies, and the ending is super rushed), but it works surprisingly well as a historical novel, had some interesting takes and choices and ideas — and was, while not my favorite book of the year, one with such a bold concept that i have to mention it anyway.

[meadows-of-light]

Prompts 1600-1699

1600) No matter how many people are there for me, I'll never get it through my head that someone actually cares.

1601) Who did that to you? Who fucked you up so bad, emotionally & mentally that you've completely shut down anyone who tries to help you? You don't talk about your feelings, you push kind people away, & you let negative people in. You refuse to open up & let someone love or care about you. Who fucking did that to you?

1602) & when you don't reply, the anxiety kicks in, screaming that you want me gone from your life & that you find me annoying & no matter how hard I try I can't block out the voices. I can't stop annoying you because you are the only person who calms the voices.

1603) If someone cheats on you, they don't love you, remember that. If someone cheats on you, they don't care about you as much as they say they do. If someone cheats on you it means that for a split second you were off their mind long enough for them to put another person in arms that should only be for you. If someone cheats on you, dear god, I hope you don't go back to them because you are worth so much more than that.

1604) She always sees the best in people. You could leave her a billion times, but she'd remember the two times you stayed for her. You could tell her a thousand mean things, but she'd remember the one time you called her beautiful. You could never be there for her, but she'd always be there for you. All she ever wanted was for you to love her, but all you did was hurt her. Yet, she'd never not be there for you. She always saw the best in you.

1605) Oh you didn't mean to hurt me then what the fuck did you mean to do?

1606) I think the worst part wasn't even that you treated me like shit. It's that you made me think I deserved it.

1607) I was never naive enough to think that I was your light but there is light in you. All of that anger, the cycle of abuse that (name) began, you can end it. You have to. So, you can be the light for your little girl.

1608) But now, you are my family.

1609) They say the inability to accept loss is a form of insanity. It's probably true. But sometimes, it's the only way to stay alive.

1610) As much as I've savored the joy of tormenting you through the years, I must confess, you all mean everything to me. Your loyalty, your counsel, & your love, it's probably the only reason I've survived as long as I have. Which is why I know that long after I'm gone you will all come together, time & time again to take care of each other; & that is why I am not afraid for your future.

1611) We are bound forever to those with whom we share blood & while we may not choose our family, that bond is our greatest strength.

1612) It’s too early for this. Go back to bed, sweetheart.

1613) I knew I'd find you here.

1614) You feel like you could do anything. Be anyone. Beautiful things are more beautiful. Everything's heightened, you know. Just a little bit more intensely. Love more powerfully. Anger becomes rage. When you're sad, you're in despair. Grief. Loss. It can cripple you. That's why so many of us turn our emotions off. It just becomes too overwhelming.

1615) Just leave me alone.

1616) You always take good care of me.

1617) Touch her one more time & she/he’ll be the last thing you will ever touch.

1618) The new life I had imagined just about a thousand times, had become a reality.

1619) The day before your whole life changes forever, feels just like any other day.

1620) You gave me all your love & all I gave you was "Goodbye".

1621) Grief does not change you, it reveals you.

1622) Only people who are capable of loving strongly can also suffer great sorrow but this same necessity of loving serves to counteract their grief & heals them.

1623) The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal & you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again, but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same nor would you want to.

1624) Grieving doesn't make you imperfect, it makes you human.

1625) You’re feeling burnt out & discouraged but you’ve made it this far & I think that’s really brave.

1626) I know what it’s like to be afraid of your own mind.

1627) It’s okay to feel unstable. It’s okay to disassociate. It’s okay to hide from the world. It’s okay to need help. It’s okay not to be okay. Your mental illness is not a personal failure.

1628) She has been through hell so believe me when I say, fear her when she looks into a fire & smiles.

1629) Having courage doesn't mean we are unafraid; it simply means we are willing to face our fears.

1630) When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it's not unreasonable to grieve when it comes to an end.

1631) This is who I am now, I must protect my family.

1632) Be kind to each other. If nothing else, be kind I was so lucky to be your father/mother.

1633) When you lose someone, it stays with you. Always reminding you how easy it is to lose the ones you love.

1634) Put out the fire before igniting. Next time, we're fighting.

1635) Because before the start began, I always saw the end.

1636) This is a bad town for such a pretty face.

1637) The danger is I'm dangerous & I might just tear you apart.

1638) We used to be so happy.

1639) You can tell this world I'm leaving.

1640) I always knew you'd destroy her.

1641) God gives his hardest battles to the toughest soldiers.

1642) Be gentle with my heart, (I only just glued the broken pieces back together).

1643) Please don’t leave me. I’m a work in progress but I’m trying.

1644) I thought I'd be okay by now & maybe I'm not worse but I'm definitely not better. Which has me terrified. Will this go on forever? Where's my light at the end of the tunnel. Help me find it, I've been searching alone in the dark for far too long.

1645) I hope one day you're at peace with yourself. I hope you can take a shower without crying & you can close your eyes without thinking about your funeral. I hope one day you start singing in the shower again & are happy for no reason. I hope you get better, because you really deserve to.

1646) I can always count on you.

1647) I've already lived. Over 300 years I have lived & you've barely begun.

1648) Right now, she doesn't remember anything. A part of her is still human, but slowly, the deeper she gets into the transition, the memories will start to come back, & then she'll know she has to make the choice.

1649) You're a diamond, dear, they can't break you.

1650) They're floating lanterns in the sky, can you believe that? A Japanese lantern is the symbol of letting go of the past. Well, here's a news flash: we're not Japanese! Do you know what they are? Children. Like lighting a candle is going to make everything okay or even saying a prayer or pretending Elena is not going to end up just like the rest of us murderous vampires. Stupid, delusional, exasperating, little children. I know what you're going to say: "It makes them feel better, (name)." So what? For how long? A minute, a day? What differences does it make? Because in the end, when you lose somebody; every candle, every prayer is not going to make up for the fact that the only thing that you have left is a hole in your life where that somebody that you cared about used to be.

1651) No, the moment you saw me as a bet was the moment you fucked up.

1652) You may be gone, but you’ll never be forgotten.

1653) Do I really mean nothing to you?

1654) You don't have to be so gentle.

1655) I never meant to hurt you.

1656) She had a laugh like summer rain until the world tore it.

1657) You will break. But oh, you will heal.

1658) Why are you scared of loving?

1659) I don’t want to feel this. I want to be numb again.

1660) What gives you the right to just waltz back into my life after all the pain you’ve caused?

1661) You’ve changed.

1662) They were perfect for each other.

1663) I don’t need help; I need an end to this pain.

1664) It’s time for me to go now but you can pretend I’ll come back, if it helps.

1665) Please, just come home.

1666) Thank you, for everything.

1667) Don't you dare leave me, not now!

1668) You don't have to act like you're okay.

1669) You think this is easy for me?

1670) I shouldn't have left you.

1671) I don't want to feel this way anymore.

1672) My emotions have been turbulent for so long, I’m not sure how to react.

1673) I would give up everything for the chance to hear your laugh again.

1674) I feel like I’ve died now that they’re gone.

1675) How did you know where to find me?

1676) We all watched it happened & time stood still.

1677) Where did all of these scars come from?

1678) Jo: I don’t believe you! Because you’re a liar & you are the worst kind of liar, because your lies sound so much like the truth, it is impossible for me to tell the difference.

Kai: You’re right. I am a liar, alright? I’m the black sheep. You know, the defective twin that nobody wanted. Must feel really nice for you to stand here - judging me. Surrounded by all the things that you got out of life while I spent 18 years in isolation as the family reject. And let me tell you: Every inch of me wants to kill you for that. EVERY PART! But I can’t because the only way that I can survive is if you help me & I’d like to live, frankly. Because I didn’t get to do a whole lot of that before everyone decided that I wasn’t worth it.

1679) I would do anything, give anything, just to see you like that one more time.

1680) You’ve done too much now. I can’t trust you anymore.

1681) Maybe this is how it was always going to end.

1682) It’s one of those terrible things, but unfortunately, it’s very real.

1683) I’ll tell you a story, a true one, one you’ve never heard.

1684) People talk about the ability to endure, to endure anything & everything, to keep going, to be strong but you can do that only if you’re not alone.

1685) I've lost a lot of people & I'm familiar with the feeling of having everything hurt.

1686) I would have broken everything; I would have killed anybody to have you back here with me.

1687) I don't know why I survived that day, but I did.

1688) You shouldn't go through this alone.

1689) You can reset everything & live in the world you deserve, a world without all the pain you're carrying, without your past, without your regrets.

1690) All I know is that I don't have to run anymore.

1691) I'll always be your little girl.

1692) For all the pain I've been through, that heals me maybe not instantly & maybe not even for a long time, but it heals.

1693) They just wanted to save everyone.

1694) It will bring you light, even among the darkest shadows of this world & others.

1695) You lost a part of your existence in the war against yourself, oh, the lights, they light up in lights of sadness, telling you, it's time to go.

1696) What are you drinking? The tears of small children. I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not.

1697) Jesus hot sauce Christmas cake, this is fucking unbelievable.

1698) If we go, we go together.

1699) When tomorrow starts without me & I'm not there to see if the sun should rise & find your eyes filled with tears for me. I wish so much you wouldn't cry the way you did that day while thinking of the many things we didn't get to say. I know how much you love me as much as I love you, & each time you think of me. I know you'll miss me too. When tomorrow starts without me, don't think we're far apart, for every time you think of me, I'm right there in your heart.

[narrowtriangle33-blog]

Please share this article, it important that you do so. These truths have to be told.

"Bethune’s name appeared in six reports in the House Committee on Un-American Activities and five times in Senate reports on people suspected of communist activity. While she was cleared of any involvement, the message was clear: Confronting racism and white supremacy is un-American."

"This is why white people are my bellwether."

"Whenever I am trying to decide whether or not a particular movement, policy or person benefits Black America, I wait and see what white people think. While that might sound racist, there has never been a movement, policy or person that benefitted Black America who was simultaneously embraced by white America. In this country, a stance against the trauma-inducing brickbat of whiteness is perceived as a stance against America. And anyone who disagrees can feel free to prove me wrong. Name one person who fought for Black liberation who white people agreed with."

"Whenever anyone does anything that includes the word “Black,” it immediately falls under the classification of Marxist and anti-whiteness. White people hate being left out, even though they are acutely aware that there is nothing more valuable in the known universe than a white life. White people will slit a Black baby’s neck for a white woman’s life."

"Let’s just say they will beat a Black baby to a bloody pulp, tie him to an industrial fan with barbed wire and toss his lifeless body off a bridge. Is that better?"

"But I understand why they vilify Black movements with Marxism."

"White people don’t know what Marxism is."

"According to a 1970 Harris Poll, 64 percent of Black Americans had a favorable view of the Panthers, while 92 percent of white Americans had a negative view. It’s probably because a lot of members of the Black Panther were Marxists, which is different from communism. Basically, Marxism is a way to examine history, economics and societies through the lens of class, while communism is actually Marx’s economic and political theory in which...wait. For a second I started to believe that there was some logic to white supremacy."

"White people hated the Panthers because they had guns and pushed for armed self-defense. For some reason, those America-hating negroes believed “the right of the people to keep and bear Arms shall not be infringed.”"

"I have no idea where they got that crazy idea from."

"Black people voting"

"Why white people don’t like it: States’ rights, something something, communism, something something it was a different time."

"When Black people marched on Selma for voting rights, they were called “communists.” The Voting Rights Act of 1965 was called “Un-American.” Of course, the 2020 election was about “socialism” because so many Black people voted."

"Southerners, conservatives and white people, in general, have never pushed for a single law to expand the electorate because they are the only true Americans."

"Critical Race Theory"

"Why white people didn’t like it: Because they don’t know what it is."

"This one is easy."

"The one thing that dumbfounds me about white supremacy is how much white people trust each other. They just trust the explanations for their fellow white people. In all this debate about CRT, I have yet to see one person who opposes CRT who can also explain what CRT is. And many of the legislators who are against funding K-12 teachers who absolutely do not teach CRT are already funding the leaders’ movement, such as Richard Delgado, the professor at state-supported Alabama Law School who wrote a little book called Critical Race Theory: An Introduction. "

"All they know is that it has the word “race” in it, so it must be bad."

"Legislators opposed the Civil Rights Act because it was “Marxist.” The House Committee on Un-American Activities investigated the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee for communism. The FBI did, too."

"In a 1964 New York Times survey, a majority of white people said that the “Negro civil rights movement had gone too far,” and a quarter of those people said their resentment was growing. They were right. Two years later, a 1966 Harris Survey, revealed that 85 percent of white respondents thought civil rights demonstrations “hurts the negro.”"

"Apparently, to white people, fighting racism is worse than racism."

"And if you think I’m kidding about white people not thinking Black people were smart, according to the National Opinion Research Center, it was not until 1963 that 50 percent of white people believed “Negroes” were born with the same intelligence as whites."

"History"

"Why white people don’t like it: Because white people might find out about some of the things white people did, which is racist."

"The fight against what politicians have deemed the Marxist, Un-American 1619 Project is actually a fight against teaching the history of slavery more accurately. And it is not new. White people said the same thing about teaching abolition. The United Daughters of the Confederacy said the same thing about the Civil War. White school districts in the North and South said the same thing about Jim Crow. And Black History Month."

"Plus if white kids learn about America’s racist past, they might start saying: “I’m not going to do that again,” and then, what will happen to white people?"

"Martin Luther King Jr."

"Why white people didn’t like him: He was a communist. He was anti-white. He was a Marxist."

"In 1966, a majority of white Americans had a negative opinion of King. When he died in 1968, 75 percent of Americans disapproved of him. Now they love him..."

"Because he’s dead."

"This is why we must never ignore white people."

"While we should never, ever do what white people collectively want, history has shown us that if something is good for Black people, white people will hate it. And if they vilify something as racist, communist or anti-white, you should take a second look because, nine times out of 10, it might be worth considering. When it comes to freedom and equality, the easiest thing to do is to see what white people have to say...

Then do the opposite."

I copied a lot of his article word for word those are Michael Harriot's words not my own.

The word's of people who commented.

"I was asking one of the few people on the Right side of politics I am still in touch with about why he hates CRT, and he sent me a link to a whole essay. It boiled down to a few leaps in logic:"

"1) the USSR used US race relations as a shield to deflect criticism of their own human rights record (“And in the USA, they hang n-words”)"

"2) therefore, any criticism of race relations was caused by Soviet propaganda (not, you know, by actually HANGING BLACK PEOPLE)"

"3) therefore any discussion of race relations was commie propaganda."

"4) therefore, any movement that calls attention to race is communist."

"It’s very similar to how the Communist League fired the original writer of The Communist Manifesto because he brought up ethnic minorities and racism and replaced him with Marx, outright rejecting any factor that so much as complicated their preconceived model. It also shares many of the issues raised in the “grievance studies” affair, being exegesis to elaborate and propound upon a founding scripture."

"That’s the most idiotic line of reasoning I ever heard. It’s so typical of white people as a group in this country that when someone points out some shit they did that’s fucked up that instead of you know, stopping the fucked up thing they basically say that the entity pointing out their fucked up shit is bad therefore bringing up solutions to the fucked up thing they did is wrong."

"Fuck the trolls, but if anyone is actually confused about the likelihood of any white person to trust any other white person over anyone at all who is even POSSIBLY not white, please refresh your memories regarding the multiple instances in the last several years of a Black person being anywhere near a house or building, then being approached by either a white guard, cop, or other self-important deputy of white fragility."

"In these instances, Black people are often believed to be up to no good even after they show ID proving they live in the building some white person has decided they don’t belong in. No amount of proof will have a fragile white self-deputy believing that even state-issued IDs are a real thing and this Black person lives in their own home."

"But when any white person walks by and says “Oh, this is _____, they live here”, immediately, that’s good enough to let this perceived criminal go into their home."

"Because any white stranger vouched in any sort of way."

"Literal evidence of address means nothing, but the word of ANY white person, with no proof of their authority, no hassle about “Well what are YOU doing here?!?”, just...instant belief of any white skin."

"Also, the main difference between Angela Davis and Assata Shakur is that Ms. Davis beat the system at its own game, the “proper” way. Racism couldn’t even beat her at their heavily-rigged game. Ms. Shakur ALSO beat the system, but because she didn’t get to win at a fully-rigged game, she found her own loophole and got out of this racist hellhole."

"Not that it matters, because they’re both the same to any racist. To me, they’re both brilliant heroes."

"If you asked these mouth breathers what they hate about CRT not only could they not tell you, they would call you “the real racist” for asking. There is no winning with these people because they refuse to see themselves as ANYTHING other than the good guys in any situation. It is fucking tiring to deal with this shit and yet they seem to not understand that we are more fucking tired than they are. With each comment, committee and talking point they pretty much prove that no white person could handle being anything other than well, white."

"To admit anything else would result in a reckoning. It will never happen and America will remain a racist society, with white culture pushing back and getting more extreme as each generation of BIPOC become more aware and angry over white supremacy. America will implode and whatever rises from the ashes will either be that reckoning with real change or a third world country."

Again I quoted these people

[jamieatthebarricade]

Maids to Wives // Chapter 3

An Outlander AU based loosely on the TV Show and real life in the historic Jamestown

In 1619, one hundred and forty-four English women from good families crossed the Atlantic in response to the Virginia Company of London’s call for maids “young and corrupt” to make wives for the planters of it’s new colony in Virginia. One in six of the maids could even claim gentry status. Although promised a free choice of husband, they were in effect being traded into marriage for a bride price of 150 pounds of best leaf tobacco, the profits to flow to individual investors

In 1619, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp made the voyage to do one thing: marry a man she's never met. But when she arrives, she comes to the startling realization that her heart belongs to someone else, a certain James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser.

Find Maids to Wives on Archive of Our Own!

Chapter 3 : Maids to Wives

“Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.”

- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

May 16th, 1619, Claire’s POV

The air was crisper in the new world, that was the first thing I noticed. The smell of soft pinewood, salt water, and fresh bodies filled my nose. Around me was open air, no tall buildings or hundreds of people in sight. I don’t remember the air being this clean since I traveled with my uncle.

While the air was clearer, there was also a thick fog of tension within the ship. Since seeing land, many of us women had realized how drastic our lives would change in less than a few hours. Either a woman would meet the love of her life, or she would enter a life of hell. I silently hoped for the first option. It was a new day, and we were nearly to the mainland. ‘You should tidy up’ my brain told me, as I looked around trying to find any reflective surface Managing to borrow a small piece of glass from another woman, my reflection stared back at me. Small bits of hair were falling out of my neat bun I had tried to make earlier in the day. The sailors wouldn’t let us use the water for washing up and such, so I wasn’t doubtful I didn’t smell all that good. I decided to use my remaining water ration to quickly wet my underarms as a sort of rugged wash. I smelt myself quick and didn’t find any odar too terrible. 

Looking into my reflection, I smiled. The curls around my face sprang out like a lion's mane, and thankfully to the sun, my face had a bit of color to it. I was no longer the ghostly pale my uncle lamb used to describe me as. He would call me a ghost, depending on where we were and how much sunlight I got. Around me, other ladies were trying to freshen themselves up as much as they could. Geillis had managed to braid a few strands in her long auburn hair. Mary also used some drinking water to give her hair a quick rinse. We all checked each other and were happy with what we were seeing.

“Are ye ready, Claire?” Geillis smiled at me. In truth I didn’t know if I was ready, but there was no turning back from it now. Weeks of waiting and daydreaming were finally coming true today. I was just happy to be on land, a different land, and start this adventure. “I hope my husband is tall. And fit. And has a nice arse” I threw my rag at Geillis in a joking matter. She rarely held back when it came to matters such as female sexuality. Geillis was truly an open book.

At the mention of arse, Mary flushed a nice shade of ruby. “You shouldn’t be mentioning such things!” She whispered softly under her breath, just loud enough for me and Geillis to hear. Geillis in turn laughed and placed a loving arm around Mary’s shoulders.

“If ye think arse is bad, what do ye think happens on the wedding night?” Mary’s face managed to blush an even deeper shade of red, and she quickly hurried into the line for disembarking the ship. Geillis laughed as she ran away, smiling contentedly to herself. 

“That lass is gonna have an interesting time with her new husband” Geillis and me walked over to where the rest of the women were waiting, including Mary. As Geillis looked on I stared out to the land. Grass was much greener than I remembered, and the sky seemed to shine a brighter shade of blue. It was like stepping through a portal into a strange new world, which is strangely what this is. I’m a stranger in a new world who wasn’t awaiting my arrival. Fear tug at my heart at the possibility of something happening. What if there wasn’t enough food? What if we were attacked by a new settlement? I suddenly felt exposed to danger, and subconsciously wrapped my cloak around my body, like a shield.

‘Whatever happens’ I thought. ‘At least I have Geillis and Mary here’. I was fortunate and grateful to have made such great friends on the voyage. Sure, I was expected to be a new wife, but who knew if a man could fill a hole of loneliness and want for a friendship. If something were to happen and I couldn’t tell my spouse, I knew that Geillis and Mary would be there for me.

“Claire, are ye alright? Ye starin’ at nothing,” Geillis gave me a gentle tap on my shoulder, breaking me from my thought haze. They already started carting women off the ship, and Me and Geillis were next in line. The shouts of multiple crewmen filled my ear, and I heard a man shouting the names of both women and the men who would marry them. 

Me and Geillis made our way onto the long boardwalk, and as we were half way, we heard Mary’s name being called.

“Mary Hawkins, Alex Randall,” A short but handsome young man emerged from the crowd. He looked no older than Mary, and his eyes lit up when he saw her. Anxiously, he walked over to her and held out a hand. I could see the blush from her cheeks as they walked away. ‘They’re going to make a wonderful marriage’.

I smiled internally at the sight of them. It was like seeing a sister finding the love of her life, I had nothing but joy for the 2 of them. I scanned the audience. There were men of all different ages and backgrounds. Tall men, short men. Young men, and old men. Most of the young men were reasonably handsome, handsome enough to tolerate. Many of them looked unwashed, which I figured would be the case as most men typically didn’t care that much about hygiene, which was an unfortunate trait.

When we got down to the land, the minute I put my foot down I felt a sense of calm wash over me. Whatever would happen, I’m here now. The feeling of knowing I couldn’t leave, even if I tried, gave me a sense of home oddly enough.

Geillis stood in front of men, waiting behind 2 more women. Slowly their names were called and met with their respective husbands.

“Suzette Augustin, Murtagh Fraser,” Suzette was french, that was one of the only things I knew about her. She was pretty, with very long black hair and a sweet smile, which lit up brightly as Murtagh stepped from the crowd. He was among the tallest of the group, wearing a tartan wrapped around his middle. His face was dark and aged, but he was still very handsome. Suzette definitely thought so, taking his hand politely, but I could see the excitement bouncing off of her.

They were down to the last person before Geillis. All of a sudden, the nerves came rushing back. I would be meeting my future husband in less than 5 minutes. What if he doesn’t like me? What if I don’t like him? I felt the sudden urge to run and hide from all of this, and I looked around quickly for a route (as if I actually had the nerve to run), when suddenly my eyes met with a man. 

He was probably the tallest, leaving me to wonder why I didn’t notice him before as he stood at least a few inches above the other men. His hair was bright ginger and slightly tostled. When I looked at him, all worries and troubles melted away. ‘Did he see the fear in my eyes?’ I wondered. I thought he would look away or turn his attention to one of the other women but his gaze stared at me. Suddenly the urge to run was gone, as if he was holding me by the shoulders. I felt peaceful, like this whole situation wasn’t that bad. 

Our connection was only broken when I felt a nudge behind me, indicating that I had to move forward. I did, but tried to keep my eyes on him a little longer. I didn’t even know his name, yet he was a familiar face in a sea of strangers. I tried to chase that feeling of serenity in his face just a minute longer.

He seemed like he was following me too, his head turning with my step. ‘Did he feel this same serenity?’ Maybe he was getting a bride today, and was just if not more nervous than I was. Deep down a part of me hoped I was to be the bride, but I tried to shake that thought quickly. I didn’t even know this man, I didn’t need to want him this bad.

I turned my head quickly forward, hoping that he didn’t find the action malicious. Even standing forward I still felt his eyes on me, and tried my best to keep my gaze ahead. Geillis and then me, and Geillis was already telling her name to the man.

“Geillis Edgars, Arthur Duncan” A short, stout man emerged from the crowd. He was at least 20 years her senior, and about 5 inches below her. As I saw Geillis’ face drop, I concealed my hand and tried to reach out for Geillis, but Arthur was already by her side, taking her hand lovingly. She took it hesitantly, and as they walked away, Geillis turned back and gave me a sad look. ‘I needed to see her later’.

“What’s your name?” a thick british accent said in front of me. My attention turned and I saw a man, maybe in his late 40s, and a big book in front of him.

“Claire Beuachamp,” I stammered, trying to keep my voice stable as best I could. I wanted to look into the crowd and find that man again. So far, his gaze was the only thing that brought me peace.

“Claire Beauchamp, Frank Randall” the man shouted. I looked out into the crowd, and the ginger man’s face dropped. It wasn’t the same calming look as before. Was he Frank Randall? Perhaps I mistook our connection before. 

Thankfully, another man emerged behind him. He was around my height and a deep, dark face. His hair was a nice brown, and he seemed to be balding but it didn’t age him any bit. He stood in front of me, and took my right hand, giving it a soft kiss on top. His hands were warm, and gave me a sense of hope. ‘I could build a life with this man’ I thought happily, smiling to him, which caused his face to light up as well. 

We walked away from the ship, right towards the ginger man. As we walked towards him, his gaze fell on me again, but this time it wasn’t a calm feeling that came over me. It was more of a flutter, like I was tongue tied without even talking to him. When we passed him, my shoulder brushed him softly. I quickly turned, causing Frank to stop in his path.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. He opened his mouth to answer but I felt a tug on my hand and before I knew it, our interaction was over. I looked over to Frank, and his kind face from before was changed to slight frustration.

Turning back once more, I caught his eye for only a second, yet I found so much solace in his face. It wasn’t love like you read about in stories, but it was understanding, and for some that’s a start. 

This time he was the one to look away, but quite hesitantly. My gaze shifted as well and and all of a sudden I wondered if I was making the right choice. I hadn’t even met both men yet, but the ginger man looked at me as if he was wrapping himself around me like a blanket, shielding me from any worries to come. I looked back at frank and didn’t find that same warmness. 

Instead, the feeling of fear and the want to run came back, but this time, I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to go back home or back to my friends. I wanted to find out what that man’s name was.