#Assisted Living in St. Croix

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Today in Christian History

Today is Friday, February 23rd, 2024. It is the 54th day of the year in the Gregorian calendar; Because it is a leap year, 312 days remain until the end of the year.

1680: Death of Thomas Goodwin (pictured above), a notable English Congregational Nonconformist preacher. He had been a member of the Westminster Assembly of 1650, and author of many biblical and theological works. His last words were: “Ah, is this dying? How I have dreaded as an enemy this smiling friend.”

1719: Death in Tranquebar, India, of thirty-six-year-old Bartholomew Ziegenbalg, missionary to India, who has established a seminary, translated the New Testament into Tamil, converted and baptized over two hundred Indians, and constructed a church building. At one point he had been imprisoned by the Dutch who feared his preaching would antagonize the Hindus they administered.

1758: Jonathan Edwards receives a smallpox vaccination from which he contracts the disease. He will die in March.

1819: A new church at Friedensthal on St. Croix Island is consecrated to the worship of the living God by Moravians and their converts. The congregation is so numerous not a third part can get inside the doors.

1846: Following the outrage raised by his publication of “Remarks on Certain Passages in the Thirty-Nine Articles,” in which he has tried to reconcile Church of England teaching with Roman positions, and his migration to the Roman Catholic church, John Henry Newman leaves Oxford for good.

1855: John Bright, a Quaker-born Christian parliamentarian in England, makes an eloquent speech against the Crimean War. Its most famous line is, the “Angel of Death has Been Abroad.”

1918: The body of the Orthodox priest George Porgachevsky is found about a mile and a quarter from the village of Ivanovskoye, Amur region. His head is crushed and he has two bayonet wounds in his stomach. The Soviets had arrested him thirteen days earlier.

1925: Death in Alexandria, Virginia, of Kate Waller Barrett, an American physician, who, as a single mother and member of the Episcopal Church, co-founded the National Florence Crittenton Mission financed by wealthy Charles Nelson Crittenton. She had secured for the mission the first-ever federal charter for a charitable organization.

1929: Lindel Tsen is consecrated as Assistant Bishop of Honan, the first Chinese bishop in an established Anglican diocese. He will become the principal leader of Chinese Anglicanism in the mid-20th century and suffer persecution at the hands of the government.

1934: Death in Baltimore, Maryland, of Peter Ainslie, a Disciples of Christ minister, ecumenical leader, and author of The Scandal of Christianity, a sharp rebuke of divisions among Christians.

1951: Death of Zhang Boling (Chang Po-ling), a prominent Chinese Protestant layman and educator. He had been affiliated with the YMCA, founded Nankai University, accepted women for education, and promoted athletic activities. Because of the school’s patriotism the Japanese had bombed and burned it and succeeding political changes made him unwelcome.

[jupitersmoon167]

Original Character - Sloane Romero

Full Name: Sloane Romero

Faceclaim: Monet St. Croix

I meant to post this months ago, but life got in the way, along with my imagination on how I wanted Sloane’s backstory to go. I finally feel satisfied with her backstory to post it. I really enjoy sharing these posts with you guys, so if you wanna know more about her (especially her dynamic with Miguel and her time at the Spider Society) let me know!

Warning! The following has mature content. It isn’t described necessarily, but it is mentioned. Read at your own discretion.

“I actually run better than I swing.”

Alright, let’s do this one last time.

Her name was Sloane Romero. And for the past 2 years, she’s been the one, and only, Widow.

You might think her story is like every generic Spider-Person’s. You’d be wrong.

Sloane never had a normal childhood to say the least. She was taken from her parents at a very young age, and into the Black Widow Program, otherwise known as the Red Room. There, she would be trained into a spy and a deadly assassin.

At 15 years old, she and a handful of other Widow trainees who survived the Red Room’s brutal training at that point in time, were set to be experimented on by Alchemax, who partnered with the Red Room to make a new generation of super soldiers. Sloane was bit by a radioactive genetic hybrid spider, and developed the standard Spider-Man abilities. She is the only one who survived the experiments.

Deeming the project a failure, the Red Room turns to an alternative way to make super soldiers using Sloane herself. By using her as a living incubator, since she hasn’t had her “graduation” ceremony at that point in time. She would go through assisted contraception treatments, and she successfully became pregnant with a child.

Months pass, and she successfully delivers her baby. But as the doctors carry her baby away, she feels an overwhelming urge to protect her offspring. Going on a violent rampage, she brutally injured some of the personnel, before being knocked out. When she wakes, she’s told that the baby didn’t make it. While stricken with grief, she later goes through the graduation process, and is put into forced hibernation, the Red Room fearing she would go on another rampage. There, she would sleep for the next few years, until she was defrosted, and called to complete a mission.

At this point in time, 14 years have passed. Peter Parker is in his first few months as Spider-Man, after discovering his powers. He’s already proven to be a thorn in Alchemax’s side, and as much as they tried to get rid of Spider-Man, they never succeeded. So, they went to their old business partner to ask for a favor.

Sloane is tasked with disposing of Spider-Man by any means necessary. With her abilities, she’s able to get the drop on Spider-Man with ease. But just as she’s about to kill him, she feels a protective urge flow through her, similar to when she had her baby all those years ago. With her spider genes breaking through her psychological conditioning, she decides to help Peter Parker in defeating Alchemax.

Seeing that she’s failed her mission, Alchemax sends the newly formed Sinister Six after the two of them. It’s a difficult fight for the two of them, and they get separated. Sloane manages to defend herself against the Vulture and Doc Ock, but Peter isn’t so lucky. Unable to reach him, she witnesses Kraven the Hunter and the Scorpion kill Peter Parker in cold blood right in front of her.

Enraged, she goes on a violent rampage, the combination of her training and spider abilities making her a deadly opponent. She has no moral code, and has no issue beating each member of the Sinister Six into a pulp. With the exception of Kraven and the Scorpion, she kills them with her own hands, in revenge for murdering Peter Parker. The other four members are left within an inch of their lives, a reminder that she is not to be trifled with. She later successfully destroys Alchemax’s reputation, ensuring they wouldn’t emerge from the grave she dug them.

After visiting Peter’s Aunt May to tell him about the fate of her nephew, and finally being free from the Red Room’s influence, she goes into hiding, away from civilization, away from the city Spider-Man protected. She moved from place to place, from safe house to safe house, before finally settling into a remote cabin in the middle of nowhere, where she sought to live the rest of her days living a quiet, peaceful life.

Unfortunately, fate had other ideas. Specifically in the form of Miguel O’Hara…

“I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t…you never will.”

Playlist:

I would like to thank @spider-starry and @stevenmoon for letting me rant about Sloane and her backstory. You guys helped me flesh out her backstory, and gave me the chance to bounce off ideas, and I really appreciate it 🥰

[thxnews]

Biden Mobilizes FEMA: Water Crisis Relief

  Immediate Action in Response to Elevated Lead and Copper Levels

In a swift response to the escalating water crisis in the U.S. Virgin Islands, President Joseph R. Biden, Jr. has declared a state of emergency. The emergency, triggered by elevated levels of lead and copper in the water supply since October 25, 2023, has prompted the President to order Federal assistance to bolster the territory's response efforts.   FEMA Takes the Helm to Alleviate Hardship The President's directive empowers the Department of Homeland Security and the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) to spearhead all disaster relief efforts. The primary goal is to alleviate the hardship and suffering experienced by the local population due to the emergency conditions. This move aligns with the authority that Title V of the Stafford Act grants, focusing on saving lives, protecting property, and ensuring public health and safety.  

FEMA's Authority to Mitigate the Crisis

FEMA is now fully authorized to coordinate, identify, and mobilize resources to address the impacts of the emergency. The agency has the discretion to provide the necessary equipment and resources to mitigate the effects of the elevated lead and copper levels in the water supply. Under the Public Assistance program, FEMA will offer emergency protective measures, including direct federal assistance, for a period of 90 days from the incident's initiation.   Targeted Measures for Immediate Relief The scope of FEMA's assistance encompasses not only the provision of clean water but also includes essential related items such as filters and testing. Additionally, technical assistance will be extended to identify and promptly address immediate threats to public health and safety on the island of St. Croix. These measures aim to ensure the well-being of the community and prevent the escalation of the crisis.  

FEMA Appoints Ms. Lai Sun Yee to Lead Recovery Operations

In a crucial step for effective coordination, FEMA has appointed Ms. Lai Sun Yee to oversee Federal recovery operations in the affected areas. Her role will be instrumental in streamlining efforts to address the water supply crisis and implement swift recovery measures. The appointment underscores the administration's commitment to a comprehensive and organized response to the emergency in the U.S. Virgin Islands.   Sources: THX News & The White House. Read the full article

[justforbooks]

Richard Davis Winters, usually known simply as Dick Winters,  was born on January 21, 1918. He was an officer of the United States Army and a decorated war veteran. He is best known for having commanded Easy Company of the 2nd Battalion, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, part of the 101st Airborne Division, during World War II. He was eventually promoted to major and put in command of the 2nd Battalion.

As a first lieutenant, Winters parachuted into Normandy in the early hours of D-Day, June 6, 1944, and later fought across France, the Netherlands, Belgium, and eventually Germany. After the German surrender in May 1945, he left the 506th and was stationed in France, where senior officers were needed to oversee the return home. In 1951, during the Korean War, Winters was recalled to the Army from the inactive list and briefly served as a regimental planning and training officer on staff at Fort Dix, New Jersey. After volunteering and completing training to become a Ranger, Winters was issued orders for deployment and was preparing to depart for Korea, but instead left the Army under a provision that allowed officers who had served in World War II but had been inactive since to resign their commission.

Winters was discharged from the Army and returned to civilian life, working first in New Jersey and later in Pennsylvania, where he set up his own company selling chocolate byproducts from The Hershey Company to producers of animal feed. He was a regular guest lecturer at the United States Military Academy at West Point until his retirement in 1997.

During the 1990s, Winters was featured in a number of books and television series about his experiences and those of the men in Easy Company. In 1992, Stephen Ambrose wrote the book Band of Brothers: Easy Company, 506th Regiment, 101st Airborne from Normandy to Hitler's Eagle's Nest, which was subsequently turned into an HBO mini-series Band of Brothers with Damian Lewis portraying Winters. When the miniseries won Primetime Emmy awards, Winters attended the ceremony to accept on behalf of Easy Company while other surviving members of the company watched from the St. Regis Hotel in Los Angeles.

Winters was also the subject of the 2005 book Biggest Brother: The Life of Major Dick Winters, The Man Who Led the Band of Brothers, written by Larry Alexander. His own memoir, Beyond Band of Brothers: The War Memoirs of Major Dick Winters, co-written by military historian and retired U.S. Army Colonel Cole C. Kingseed, was published in early 2006. He also gave a number of lectures on leadership to cadets at the United States Military Academy at West Point.

On May 16, 2009, Franklin and Marshall College conferred an Honorary Doctorate in Humane Letters upon Winters.

Despite the many accolades he had received, Winters remained humble about his service. During the interview segment of the miniseries Band of Brothers, Winters quoted a passage from a letter he received from Sergeant Myron "Mike" Ranney, "I cherish the memories of a question my grandson asked me the other day when he said, 'Grandpa, were you a hero in the war?' Grandpa said 'No...but I served in a company of heroes'."

Awards

Combat Infantryman Badge

Parachutist Badge (2 combat jump stars)

Distinguished Service Cross

Bronze Star (2)

Purple Heart

Distinguished Unit Citation (2)

American Defense Service Medal

European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign Medal (3 campaigns and arrowhead device)

World War II Victory Medal

Army of Occupation Medal

National Defense Service Medal

French Croix de Guerre with palm

French Liberation Medal

Belgian Croix de Guerre with palm

Belgian Commemorative Medal of the 1940–1945 War

Winters died on January 2, 2011, at an assisted living facility in Campbelltown, Pennsylvania, 19 days before his 93rd birthday. He had suffered from Parkinson's disease for several years. Winters was buried in a private funeral service, which was held on 8 January 2011. He was buried in the Bergstrasse Evangelical Lutheran Church cemetery in Ephrata, Pennsylvania, next to his parents in the Winters' family plot. His grave is marked "Richard D. Winters, World War II 101st Airborne". His wife Ethel died in 2012, at age 89.

*Photo Above: Richard Winters in Holland, October 1944

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[memecucker]

deoadjuvante replied to your post “I swear I think I even saw people trying to uplift John Adams over...”

wait, he didn't own slaves? I thought that there has been a pushback on that narrative in some historical circles, which argue that Chernow took some liberties in white-washing Hamilton's role in the slave trade. Tbh I barely read anything about Hamilton's life so I can't speak to whether its true, but I was under the impression that there is still real debate about his role in the slave trade.

So an issue that I think also is the cause of confusion is that it is true that Hamilton’s opposition to slavery did not prevent his complicity in the system but the form his complicity took was not that of someone like Jefferson. 

Hamilton was born on St. Croix out of wedlock with his father leaving his family early on and when Hamilton’s mother died while he was still young he (and his brother from the same father) was prevented from inheriting her property due to being a bastard.

I havent read Chernow’s book but a claim that seems to have been made in it which is common across sympathetic biographers of Hamilton and which is stated as fact in the musical is that Hamilton’s experiences growing up in poverty (relative to the rest of the small white population of St Croix) and the stigma of being a bastard closing off many avenues for social mobility supposedly inculcated an innate sympathy for the marginalized especially slaves. There doesnt actually seem to be much direct evidence for this claim in terms of Hamilton’s own personal writings and letters. The closest from my cursory research seems to have been a letter the young Hamilton wrote to his estranged father discussing the aftermath of a hurricane that swept the region where he attacks the ruling elites of the island (nearly all slave owners or traders) for the selfishness in withholding aid and assistance from impoverished islanders which likely included slaves since there doesnt really seem to have large amount of poor whites (like himself) on the island. Hamilton uses the first-person plural to refer to the impoverished islanders however which seems (again, just going by cursory research) the closest we have to first-hand evidence that Hamilton “identified with” the enslaved but frankly I think its a bit of a stretch especially given the context of referring specifically to rebuilding efforts in the aftermath of a hurricane rather than generally speaking. 

That said, the teenaged Alexander Hamilton did find both employment and mentorship on St Croix from a man named Nicolas Cruger. Cruger was part owner of an import-export company named Beekman & Cruger which did participate in the slave trade though sympathetic biographies do try to emphasis that it wasn the main goal of the enterprise (lol). That said, Cruger apparently had such belief and trust in the 14 year old Alexander that when he became heavily ill for some months in 1771 he left him in charge of the entire St Croix branch of the company. This included overseeing the importation and sale of slaves as conducted by the company. This may be the basis for some of the claims of Hamilton having definitively owned slaves but even putting aside that he was 14 years old there wouldve been legal procedures in place to prevent any kind of substantial changes (another reading of this incident may be that Cruger chose a 14 year old specifically because an easier to control youth would be more likely to keep the status quo in place in contrast with a more ambitious adult, though in this case Cruger most likely wouldve feared personal enrichment at the expense of his company rather than emancipation of slaves). 

More damning to Hamilton’s reputation as a supposed abolitionist hero IMHO actually has to do with his relationship with his in-laws. The future Mrs Hamilton, Elizabeth Schuyler, was born into a prominent slave-owning family in the New York Colony. Despite his status as a bastard and usual stigma about women “marrying down” Hamilton was nonetheless able to marry into the wealthy and prestigious Schuyler family. He would later go on to assist his in-laws in writing up the purchase and sales of slaves and wrote letters on their behalf pertaining to the return of slaves that had left Schuyler estates for whatever reason. For me those shows a deeper collaboration with the institution of slavery even more than him briefly nominally overseeing his mentor’s company or his looking-the-other-way when it came to the slaves of close friends of his such as George Washington. 

Also another that ought to be mentioned is the anti-slavery society Hamilton eventually joined, the New York Manumission Society. The term “manumission” refers specifically to not just the freeing of slaves but their freeing through “legitimate” means typically with the consent or at the very least not against the wishes of the owner. So a slave who is allowed to personally  becomes free because of their master’s will upon their death (in some societies this was automatic or in the case of Rome strongly expected) or because they were allowed to sell goods on the side for the purpose of obtaining or even by means of marriage to their master as was commonly the case in Haiti. This is important to point out because the New York Manumission Society was very much a “moderate” society in terms of the cause of abolishing slavery and didnt even require members to not own slaves. It’s founder, John Jay (the first Chief Justice of the Supreme Court) even owned a handful of house slaves himself! The Manumission Society very much had a “free slaves- when we and they are ready for it” ethos.

Basically, there’s no evidence Alexander Hamilton ever directly owned slaves. However he was very very much assimilated into the wider slave society of colonial America and the personal reservations he had towards the practice did not amount to much. This contrasts with more forceful abolitionism of contemporaries such as Thomas Paine or even the later Benjamin Franklin who despite having himself owned slaves for his printing business became a stauncher advocate of abolitionism and who unsucessfully petitioned the Continental Congress to ban slavery.

Also to go back to the musical for a sec something that’s interesting is that LMM originally intended for their to be a third “rap battle” song directly about slavery pitting abolitionist Quakers against pro-slavery advocates but it was cut from the musical after he decided it would be improper given that the heroes of his play didnt really do enough for abolitionism (even though Eliza’s song after Hamilton’s death apparently includes a line saying he wouldve done much against slavery had he lived, which doesnt really line up with the evidence)

Miranda: Yeah, that we cut, and it was sort of our homage to "Hail Mary" [by Tupac Shakur]. There was a moment when there were two Quakers from, I think it was Pennsylvania, who tried to ban the importation of slaves and brought it to the house floor. And [James] Madison let them talk about it for two days and then set a gag rule — "We're not talking about slavery until 1808" — basically saying, like, "We don't know how to solve it." They knew it was a problem. Even from the racist perspective, it was, "There's going to be more of them than us!" But no one knew what to do about it, and they all kicked it down the field. And while, yeah, Hamilton was anti-slavery and never owned slaves, between choosing his financial plan and going all in on opposition to slavery, he chose his financial plan. So it was tough to justify keeping that rap battle in the show, because none of them did enough.

[thekotaroo]

Profiles of Pride: June 19th! 🏳️‍🌈Audre Lorde🏳️‍🌈

Audre Lorde (February 18, 1934 – November 17, 1992) was an American writer, feminist, womanist, librarian, and civil rights activist. She was a self-described “black, lesbian, mother, warrior, poet,” who dedicated both her life and her creative talent to confronting and addressing injustices of racism, sexism, classism, heterosexism, and homophobia. As a poet, she is best known for technical mastery and emotional expression, as well as her poems that express anger and outrage at civil and social injustices she observed throughout her life.

Her poems and prose largely deal with issues related to civil rights, feminism, lesbianism, illness and disability, and the exploration of black female identity.

In relation to non-intersectional feminism in the United States, Lorde famously said, "those of us who stand outside the circle of this society's definition of acceptable women; those of us who have been forged in the crucibles of difference – those of us who are poor, who are lesbians, who are Black, who are older – know that survival is not an academic skill. It is learning how to take our differences and make them strengths. For the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house. They may allow us temporarily to beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change. And this fact is only threatening to those women who still define the master's house as their only source of support."

In 1954, she spent a pivotal year as a student at the National University of Mexico, a period she described as a time of affirmation and renewal. During this time, she confirmed her identity on personal and artistic levels as both a lesbian and a poet. On her return to New York, Lorde attended Hunter College, and graduated in the class of 1959. While there, she worked as a librarian, continued writing, and became an active participant in the gay culture of Greenwich Village. She furthered her education at Columbia University, earning a master's degree in library science in 1961. During this period, she worked as a public librarian in nearby Mount Vernon, New York.

In 1968 Lorde was writer-in-residence at Tougaloo College in Mississippi. Lorde's time at Tougaloo College, like her year at the National University of Mexico, was a formative experience for her as an artist. She led workshops with her young, black undergraduate students, many of whom were eager to discuss the civil rights issues of that time. Through her interactions with her students, she reaffirmed her desire not only to live out her "crazy and queer" identity, but also to devote attention to the formal aspects of her craft as a poet. Her book of poems, Cables to Rage, came out of her time and experiences at Tougaloo.

From 1972 to 1987, Lorde resided in Staten Island. During that time, in addition to writing and teaching she co-founded Kitchen Table: Women of Color Press.

In 1977, Lorde became an associate of the Women's Institute for Freedom of the Press (WIFP). WIFP is an American nonprofit publishing organization. The organization works to increase communication between women and connect the public with forms of women-based media.

Lorde taught in the Education Department at Lehman College from 1969 to 1970, then as a professor of English at John Jay College of Criminal Justice (part of the City University of New York) from 1970 to 1981. There, she fought for the creation of a black studies department. In 1981, she went on to teach at her alma mater, Hunter College (also CUNY), as the distinguished Thomas Hunter chair.

In 1981, Lorde was among the founders of the Women's Coalition of St. Croix, an organization dedicated to assisting women who have survived sexual abuse and intimate partner violence (IPV). In the late 1980s, she also helped establish Sisterhood in Support of Sisters (SISA) in South Africa to benefit black women who were affected by apartheid and other forms of injustice.

In 1985, Audre Lorde was a part of a delegation of black women writers who had been invited to Cuba. The trip was sponsored by The Black Scholar and the Union of Cuban Writers. She embraced the shared sisterhood as black women writers. They visited Cuban poets Nancy Morejon and Nicolas Guillen. They discussed whether the Cuban revolution had truly changed racism and the status of lesbians and gays there.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Saturday 26 May 1838

8

12 ¼

fine morning F61 ½° at 8 ½ am A- went to the cathedral about 8 or after to sketch the interior and returned at 9 35 – I sat writing till 10 – then breakfast – changed our room – from the small one to the next adjoining a large very good room and breakfasting and moving our things till 12 – our garçon Paul Voisin a nice civil good countenanced unmarried aetatis 31 man from Lyons – does not like here – would be glad to be in a private house again – would be glad to go with us – lived 15 years with la marquise de Montague – was then in the army – then not getting a good place at Lyons came to Paris and from there here – in bed at 12 or 2 and up at 4 – so hard a place, nobody could stay long – he makes 800fr. a year – but would rather have less in a different place – had 350 fr. a year with the marquise de M- and livery – she lived in the r. de la université, but is not now in Paris – lives in the country – A- and I out at 12 35 – took a commissionaire to shew us the way, and then sent him home – Mr. Mumm or somebody, a very civil young man, protestant it seemed, and speaking English very fairly – a German shewed us over the cellars, and afterwards shewed us into a large good salon, and gave us champagne and biscuits – the wine Mousseux and very fair but not so good as Moets’ of Epernay in 1833. should I have as good of Moet at 3/. a bottle? ordered a dozen of his 1ere qualité at 4/50 per bottle to be sent off on Monday and would be in Paris on Tuesday or Wednesday to my address rue St. Victor n° 27 à Paris – thought we might get this dozen over to England for Lady Stuart – en petite cadeau – about an hour at the cellars (at Mr. Mumms’) underground and above – 3 stories of cellars to the depth of 36 to 40 ft. ventilated by grates communicating from the bottom cellar to the top – each story divided into separate vaults perhaps the loftiest 7 or 8ft. high in the centre – perhaps 4 or 5 yards wide and 20+ long – in the lowest story 3 men corking – one filling up the bottles – another putting in the cork, and driving it down with a machine (has only had it about 15 months) on the principle of a corn or button-stamping machine, and the 3rd man tying down the corks, (the tightness gained by a small steel thing round which the string is turned and held fast while the other end is pulled tight) – It is not long since everybody left off gaudon (rosin) and covered the corks with lead-paper – a great improvement

Monday 28 May 1838. no good wine in champagne says our landlord of the Ecu at Epernay since the year 1834.

asked for champagne tranquille – cannot have it now – not till next year – not ripe enough now – that of 1834 will not be ripe till next year – taken with the double-incline clearing racks  the bottles ranged in an angle = about 25°? require turning twice a day for 2 or 3 weeks till all the sediment has sunk down to the cork – then the cork taken out (a difficult operation saw it done) and with the cork out gushes the sediment in the froth that escapes and the bottle being refilled is immediately re-corked – vintage in October – wine remains in cash till April May or June – about 6 months – Mr. Mumm has no vineyards of his own – buys the grapes – shewed us his great ton = 19,000 bottles = 70 such casks as we saw lying about – sends wine to America in boxes containing 12 bottles and 50 ditto has a house in London, Francfort and Cologne – Inquired respecting the ventilation of cellars – he said wine should have good pure air – Madeira should be kept warm and may do without air, but good air cannot do it any harm if the temperature be attended to – the breakage of champagne = 50p.c. the time of year now coming on – best to order champagne for a years’ consumption – should not be kept too long – he owned that the Bordeaux wines (Claret) for the English market were mixed with hermitage and brandy – on leaving Mr. Mumms’ at 1 55 sauntered in the little Jardin des Plantes – nothing particular in it – 2 or 3 little  serres, not much in them – then to the Cours the very nice shaded promenades – then Champs Elysées of Rheims – very pretty cool and pleasant (hot and very fine sun today) sat there writing in pencil in my rough note book all the above of today till now 2 ¾ - and then to the cemetery close by – i.e. close by the Porte de Mars leading to Flanders (the gate by which we entered yesterday) and the ‘Mission’ i.e. croix de la mission erected in 1825, and now turned to a monument to the memory of the brave who died fighting for the liberty of France (viz. the revolutions of the 3 days of July 1830) – sometime in the cemetery spite of boiling sun – among the tombeaux and epitaphs one of the latter by a father to the memory of his daughter, Marie Antoniette Sophie l’Inglois decêdée Thursday 5 December 1822 dans sa 21me année – after 10 foregoing lines ends thus

‘ô mon chere enfant, attends en paix

ce père malheureux ! attends-le sous cette terre

Qui d’après un homme religieux et sensible,

‘n’est que la cendre des morts pétrie avec les larmes

de vivans’ pretty idea  

not aware at this moment that the ancien porte de Mars (arc de triomphe of the Romans) was so near

from the cemetery thro’ the streets and marché to the palais archiépiscopale

the archbishop M. le cardinal de Couci set off to Paris a day or 2 before the outburst of the revolution of July 1830, and has never been here since – at Goritz with the ex-royal family – the bishop of Numidie does the duties of the archbishop – the archbishop much regretted – a very good man – did a great deal of good –the palais worth seeing the grande salle surrounded by the pictures of the king crowned here from Clavis downwards very handsome – pity that damp is spoiling some of the pictures e.g. Louis XVI. at the end of  the salle – Charles X. taken away – the picture still in the palais but his place in the salle vacant, and several fleurs de lis here and there defaced – (as also the fleurs de lis on the shield of Louis 15 in the Place royale – how puerile!) – the grande salle 130x36 pieds and height = about 36 pieds up to the square – ceiling domed – large poutres (beams) across the room partly gilt with 2 rings in each beam towards the side of the room for suspending 2 chandeliers – 4 windows on each side the great entrance door by flight of steps from without – 4 doors on the opposite side of the room – the great fire-place at the end of the room and over it St. Remy crowning Clovis – shewn into what Charles x intended turning into the chapel – the painted glass windows put in – but all stopt by the revolution – this place was the palais de justice after the revolution of 1789 and 3 stories of prisonniers were in this very spot – the duke of Orelans was lately at our hotel (the Lyon d’or) but did not see the Palace – no! said I, he is still a Bourbon, and the sight could not be agreeable – from here went home at 4 ½ for A- to have wine and biscuit and then out again at 4 52 and off to the church of St. Remy – a 20 minutes walk and there at 5 ¼ - under repair – expected to be done in 2 years from this time – very curious old church – the whole of the nave boarded off – had been new roofed and now full of workmen – 2 stories of double aisle round the apsis and choir and a narrow gallery above the upper story immediately under the painted windows – do not remember to have seen this sort of 2 storied double-aisle – went up to the upper story – same dimensions apparently even as high as the story below – the vitreaux – (painted glass) – very ancient – date not known – supposed to be as old as the church – evidently very ancient – all the ceilings of aisles and choir stone-work plastered and painted in imitation of brick-work – the new vaulting (new roof of the nave) done in wood – the old stone roof too heavy on the walls – the 2 stories of double aisle run all round the nave too – see as we return, that the new roof is not quite so steep as the old one – as seen from the old walls of the town the eves are all in one line but the ridge of the old roof of the choir is about 3ft. higher than the ridge of the new roof of the nave – just peeped into the nave after having seen the high altar and chasse containing the relies of St. Remy – the chasse of solid silver before the revolution of 1789 – now of cuivre argenté – the relies exposed to the faithful

SH:7/ML/E/21/0110

for 9 days in October every year – the figures round the high altar not finished sculptured at the back because stood originally against a wall – done under the orders of a cardinal of Lorraine 300 or 400 years ago – interesting as representing in marble statues the 6 ecclesiastical and 6 lay paises de France and their officers who assisted at the sacres (coronations) of the kings of France – looking towards the altar

the left

‘Duke de Bourgogne’ holding the crown

D. de Normandie – a standard

D. de Aquitaine – a standard

Comte ‘de champagne’ – a standard

C. de Flandre – the sword

C. de Toulouse – the spurs

the right

archduke de Rheims holding sa croix

Ev. duke de Laon – a crosier et l’ampoule

Ev. d. de Langres – a crosier et containing the oil and sceptre

Ev. comte de Beauvais – a crosier

Ev. c. de Chalons – a crosier and the ring

Ev. c. de Noyon – a crosier et la selle the kings’s saddle

immediately at the back of the altar in the space between the last Evêque and last court is a St. Remy seated in his archiepiscopal robes and mitre teaching Clovis kneeling at his feel and a Diacre or assistant holding the cosier and an open book – Left the church (much interested) at 6 20 – sauntered back along the  boulevard very lately planted with young elms – cart road in the middle and 2 allées (promenades) (old rampart) the Vesle river running close along its foot on the other side the old wall – on our right towards the town, great deal of garden ground – pépinières and sale vegetable gardens – delighted with our walk back – nowhere such good views of the exterior of the cathedral – too short – too lumping as a whole – wants the lantern tower the lengthiness of York minster, and its freedom from flying buttresses at the east end which look like steps to graduate the high roof gently down to the ground – the effect of this is bad – as if the building could not support its height at that end – never travel without a view of York minster – take it all in all, has it an equal in the world? when very near our hotel at 7 the light so beautiful on the cathedral turned into a courtyard for a better view – the gentleman of the house civilly asked us in and the wife shewed us in the garden – she said the effect would be still better in about an hour – she regretted the great numeros of pigeons jackdaws, crows etc that inhabited the exterior of the building – to us these birds give life to the scene and improve the picturesque – she said the crows assembled on the wire all along the ridge of the roof so as sometimes to form an almost continuous line from end to end, and all regularly flew away to les champs at 9pm – as good as a clock for 9pm we inquired about Mr. Mumm as to the street in which he lived – she did not know the name – supposed we had seen the cellars of Mr. Muller or Mr. Roeder (a German we said he spoke English well and was a protestant) – asked who was really the most renommé négociant en vins in Reims – Madame Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin- I said the town was full of dyers – yes! but only 6 or 7 great dyers in the town – It turned out her husband was a dyer and also a wine merchant – she said we ought to see les filatures en laine (woollen spinning mills) – it seems they have power looms here – she says trade has been very bad, but is now reviving or revived and pretty goof again – Had ordered dinner at 7 – not in till 7 ½ - dinner immediately but the lateness an excuse for a bad dinner – no épinards – nothing left – I sent for one mutton cutlet for I had literally nothing but cold fish not eating the bit of beef or the little redone overdone poulet or asparagus – sat over dinner and dessert till 10 – then wrote till 11 – very fine day – F67° at 11 pm

[histoireettralala]

La Journée des Barricades ( the 1648 edition)

August 26, 1648, Paris.

The King, Louis XIV, isn't yet ten years old of age - his mother, Queen Anne, is Regent. She is helped and advised by Cardinal Mazarin.

The tensions between the Regent and the Parliaments come to a breaking point, and on Mazarin's advice, Anne of Austria has René Potier de Blancmesnil and Pierre Broussel arrested - those two members of the Parliament being loud and influential opponents to the Queen's decisions - they are notably opposed to the levying of more taxes (the Thirty Years war puts a strain on the finances) , which endears them to the Parisians.

[Pierre Broussel]

But as soon as the people of Paris hears about it, crowds gather. A third member of the Parliament, Louis Charton, escapes arrest.

The crowds are forcibly dispersed, blood is shed, and the inhabitants of Paris take up arms in order to get their vengeance. In every street chains are pulled to forbid access. There are 200 to 600 barricades in the city, decorated with flags, and fortified; and people are yelling " Long live the King! No Mazarin!" The Parliament comes to the Palais-Royal to ask for the prisoners'  liberation, first président Mathieu Molé being their spokesperson; he explains it is the only way to calm the angry crowds down and to squash a rebellion; unfortunately Anne of Austria sourly retorts that "The members of the Parliament were the true authors of the sedition by their disobedience to the crown's orders." Molé tries again, with no better result.

The members of the Parliament go back to their palace, and get to the third Barricade (at the Croix du Trahoir) where they are stopped. One armourer of the rue St Honoré, Raguenet, seizes Mathieu Molé by the arm, holds a pistol to his face and demands "Turn around, traitor, if you don't want to be slaughtered, you and yours; bring us Broussel back, or Mazarin and the Chancellor as hostages!" Molé keeps his calm, moves the pistol aside, and with a great dignity gathers the parliamentaries back to him, going back to the Palais Royal in the midst of a furious crowd.

[President Mathieu Molé, seized by the rebels, during the wars of the Fronde, by François-André Vincent, 1779]

For the third time he displays to the Regent how irritated the people are, what resistance they just faced, but the Queen isn't convinced yet. The Parliament then decides to gather in the galerie of the Palais Royal. Gaston de France, Duke of Orleans (the King's uncle), and Mazarin, assist to the conference. The Parliament states that the arrested members of the Parliament will be freed. And finally the Regent relents and accepts. The decision is immediately told to the people- but the Parisians declare (they do not trust the Court's sincerity) that they will stay under arms until they see Broussel free.

When Broussel appears the next morning, artillery salvos can be heard among the shouts of joy, and the magistrate is given a triumphal welcome and carried up to his home.

The city will be quiet again on August 29.

But the Fronde has only started.

[skyfirewolf]

Edward Stevens: facts

After the suicide of his uncle and guardian Peter Lytton, James Hamilton went off to train with an elderly carpenter and his younger brother, Alexander Hamilton, was whisked off to the King Street home of Thomas Stevens, a well-respected merchant and his wife, Ann. Of the five children born to the married couple, Edward born a year before Alexander became his closest friend, "an intimate acquaintance begun in early youth," as Hamilton described their relationship. As they both matured, the often seemed to display parallel personalities: both were quick and clever, disciplined and persevering, fluent in French, versed in classical history, held the same morals and were interested in medicine. In later years, Edward reminded Alexander of "those vows of eternal friendship, which we have so often mutually exchanged," he often fretted about his friend's delicate health.

Their physical appearance was close. Thirty years later, when Timothy Pickering, then secretary of state, first set eyes on Edward Stevens, he was torn by their resemblance. "At first glance, I was struck with the extraordinary similitude of his and General Hamilton's faces–I thought they must be brothers." Pickering confided with shock to Edward's brother-in-law, James Yard of St. Croix only to be told that this remark was said many times before. Pickering even concluded to himself that they were in fact brothers and Hamilton was an illegitimate child of "Stevens".

Edward Stevens also went to Kings College and years before Hamilton. November 11th, 1769 is Hamilton's oldest letter surviving in his pen–the recipient was Stevens. Arriving in New York 1773, the only person he knew was Stevens. In his first months at King's, he and a friend, Robert Troup, formed a club that gathered weekly to hone debating, writing and speaking skills. Stevens was one of the members.

While married to Elizabeth Schuyler, Edward Stevens became "the guardian angel" of the household and he appeared at providential moments and tended to Eliza reassuring her she was in no danger at times of illness. During the yellow fever epidemic in 1793, Edward Seven turned up Philadelphia and attended to both Alexander and Eliza when they both contracted the disease. He treated with bark, wine, and cold baths, a regimen that stirred some controversy since Stevens scorned the bloodletting treatment advocated by most doctors including Rush. Upon his recovery, Hamilton became an advocate for Stevens's method.

(Text above is credited to sonofhistory)

- He cured Eliza and Alexander of the fever within five days

- Stevens graduated from King's College in 1774 and then sailed to Britain to study Medicine at the University of Edinburgh

- He gained his doctorate (M.D.) on September 12, 1777

- Stevens' dissertation on gastric digestion was entitled "De alimentorum concoction"

- Based on this work, he was the first researcher to isolate human gastric juices

- His work confirmed that of René Antoine Ferchault de Réaumur, who showed the digestive power of gastric juices, and helped dispel earlier theories of digestion

- Stevens's work on digestion would influence Lazzaro Spallanzani

- On January 20, 1776, Stevens was admitted to the university's Royal Medical Society

- He served as the Society's president for the academic year 1779/1780. Stevens remained in Edinburgh until 1783 and was one of the joint founders of the Royal Society of Edinburgh in that year

- Stevens returned to St. Croix in 1783. He worked there as a physician for ten years

- He maintained his friendship with Hamilton through correspondence

- In adulthood, Hamilton tended to shun his turbulent adolescence, and Stevens was the only person from his childhood, including even his closest living family members, with whom he kept in regular contact

- Following the death of his wife, Eleanora, in 1792, Stevens decided to move to North America

- Stevens had considered a move to Guyana, but William Thornton urged him to choose the United States

- Also in 1792, Stevens married Hester Kortright Amory. Stevens ended his ten years of practicing medicine in the Caribbean and moved to Philadelphia in 1793

- (A/N" so he was widowed one year and married that same year, good job Ned)

- While in Philadelphia, he engaged in a controversy with Benjamin Rush on methods for treating an outbreak of yellow fever

- Stevens was admitted to the American Philosophical Society on April 18, 1794. Stevens's work in digestion may have influenced other researchers in Philadelphia, notably John Richardson Young

- In 1795, Stevens was appointed as a professor at King's College

- Stevens served as the United States consul-general in Saint-Domingue (later Haiti) from 1799 to 1800

- Stevens's title, "consul", suggested a diplomat attached to a country not a colony, reflecting the administrations view of the Haitian situation

- Following his arrival in Haiti in April 1799, Stevens succeeded in accomplishing several of his objectives, including: the suppression of privateers operating out of the colony, protections for American lives and property, and right of entry for American vessels

- Stevens pushed for similar privileges for the British, who, like the United States, were engaged in war with France

- Negotiations between Haiti and Britain were difficult given Haiti's fears of Britain's desire to take control of the colony, and Britain's fears of the Haitian slave revolt spreading to its own Caribbean colonies. In fact, Stevens had to serve as the British agent for a time since Haitian troops feared having a British official in the colony

- Little is known of Stevens's last years. For two and a half months in 1809-10, during the British occupation of the Danish West Indies, Stevens served as President of St. Croix. He corresponded with David Hosack, including a letter introducing his son in 1823

- He outlived Hamilton by thirty years

- He also referred to Hamilton as "My Dr. Ham"

- Meanwhile, Hamilton called Edward "Ned" and "Neddy" and often reffered to him as his "particular friend"

- "Throughout the remainder of 1803 Stevens attended the American Philosophical Society regularly. He is recorded as being present on October 7, October 21, November 4, November 18. In 1804 he attended on February 17 and February 24. A minute on August 17 of that year is confusing. Apparently he donated two volumes of books, but the precise readings of the Minutes is unclear. The description is "Steven's Wars. 2 Vols". Thereafter Stevens never attended again. It will be recalled that in 1804 Alexander Hamilton died in a duel with Burr, and possible then, or later Stevens retired to St Croix. David Hossack wrote to him in St. Croix in a letter dated September 20th, 1809, from New York, so by that year, certainly, Stevens had left the United States."

— Edward Stevens: Gastric physiologist, physician and American statesman

(Ned must have been significantly distressed by Hamilton's death and perhaps even moved back to St Croix because of this)

Some letters between Ned and Alexander:

"I have written you so repeatedly since my Arrival in Scotland, without having ever received an Answer... I am perfectly at a Loss I assure you, my Dr: Hamilton, to account for your Silence. I have written you frequently, and, as I know that you was at a Distance from New York, enclosed your Letters to some of our common Friends in that City, and requested them to transmit them to you. But I have not been able to collect the least Intelligence concerning you from any Quarter..."

—To Alexander Hamilton from Edward Stevens, 23 December 1777

"Who could have imagined my friend that a man of your greatness, of your delicacy of constitution, and of your tranquility, would have shone so much, and in a short space of time, in the Champ de Mars, that you did it? I assure you, my Colonel, that I have tormented myself a great deal about your health, which has always been very dear to me since the beginning of our acquaintance. I do not know how you can sustain the hardships and fatigues of a winter campaign in America. Surely your constitution would never have sustained such severity without the assistance of something very extraordinary."

— To Alexander Hamilton from Edward Stevens, 1778

"Dear Edward

This just serves to acknowledge receipt of yoursper Cap Lowndeswhich was delivered me Yesterday. The truth of Cap Lightbourn & Lowndes information is now verifyd by the Presence of your Father and Sister for whose safe arrival I Pray, and that they may convey that Satisfaction to your Soul that must naturally flow from the sight of Absent Friends in health, and shall for news this way refer you to them. As to what you say respecting your having soon the happiness of seeing us all, I wish, for an accomplishment of your hopes provided they are Concomitant with your welfare, otherwise not, tho doubt whether I shall be Present or not for to confess my weakness, Ned, my Ambition is prevalent that I contemn the grov'ling and condition of a Clerk or the like, to which my Fortune &c. condemns me and would willingly risk my life tho' not my Character to exalt my Station. Im confident, Ned that my Youth excludes me from any hopes of immediate Preferment nor do I desire it, but I mean to prepare the way for futurity. Im no Philosopher you see and may be jusly said to Build Castles in the Air. My Folly makes me ashamd and beg youll Conceal it, yet Neddy we have seen such Schemes successfull when the Projector is Constant I shall Conclude saying I wish there was a War.

. . .

PS I this moment receivd yoursby William Smith and am pleasd to see you Give such Close Application to Study."

- Alexander Hamilton to Edward Stevens, St Croix, November 11th, 1769

(Alex, hon, GET YOUR GRAMMAR TOGETHER MY BOY)

[blackkudos]

Orlando Jones

Orlando Jones (born April 10, 1968) is an American actor and stand-up comedian. He is known for being one of the original cast members of the sketch comedy series MADtv, for his role as the 7 Up spokesman from 1999 to 2002, and for his role as the African god Anansi on Starz's American Gods.

Early life

Jones was born in Mobile, Alabama, on April 10, 1968. His father was a professional baseball player in the Philadelphia Phillies organization. He moved to Mauldin, South Carolina, when he was a teen and graduated from Mauldin High School in 1985. One of his early acting experiences involved playing a werewolf in a haunted house to help raise money for the junior/senior prom. Jones enrolled in the College of Charleston, South Carolina. He left in 1990 without finishing his degree.

To pursue his interest in the entertainment industry, Jones, together with comedian Michael Fechter, formed a production company, Homeboy's Productions and Advertising. Together Jones and Fechter worked on several projects including a McDonald's commercial with basketball superstar Michael Jordan for the McDonald's specialty sandwich the "McJordan".

He scored his first Hollywood job in 1987, writing for the NBC comedy A Different World, on which he had a small guest role in the season five finale. During 1991-92, Jones penned the Fox series Roc and, in 1993, he co-produced The Sinbad Show. He also made a brief appearance on the FOX sitcom Herman's Head in 1992.

Career

MADtv

After hosting Fox's music series Sound FX, in 1994, Jones became one of the original nine cast members of MADtv. Unlike some of his fellow original repertory performers on MADtv, Jones came to the show with limited sketch comedy experience. However, his comedy writing and television producing skills proved to be valuable to the early success of the show.

Throughout the first two seasons of MADtv, Jones produced characters like the Cabana Chat band leader Dexter St. Croix and Reverend LaMont Nixon Fatback, the vocal follower of Christopher Walken. He was also noted for his impressions of Thomas Mikal Ford, Temuera Morrison, Warwick Davis, Danny DeVito, Michael Jai White, Eddie Griffin, and Ice Cube.

After two seasons on MADtv, Jones left the show to pursue a movie career. However, Jones returned to MADtv in 2004 to celebrate its 200th episode.

Other television projects

Aside from MADtv, Jones made many other television appearances. Perhaps his most popular and enduring television appearance was not in the form of a sitcom or television drama, but rather in a series of humorous commercials as the spokesperson for 7 Up where he gained wide recognition.

This exposure led to a plethora of opportunities for Jones. First, he hosted an HBO First Look special in 2000 and then, in 2003, Jones was given his own late night talk show on FX called The Orlando Jones Show. Although his talk show was short lived, Jones continued to make additional television appearances. In 2003, he appeared on The Bernie Mac Show and on Girlfriends. In 2006, Jones decided to return to television as one of the lead characters of ABC's crime drama The Evidence, as Cayman Bishop. He has also appeared in two episodes of Everybody Hates Chris, the first in 2007 as Chris's substitute teacher and the second in 2008 as Clint Huckstable, an allusion to the character Cliff Huxtable played by Bill Cosby on The Cosby Show.

In 2008, he appeared as Harold Wilcox, a violent veteran with PTSD, on New Amsterdam. In the first season of the show, Jones also starred on Nick Cannon's Wild 'N Out. Jones was the first guest star on the show. Jones was the co-host of ABC's Crash Course (which was canceled after 4 episodes). On November 16, 2009, it was announced on TV Guide that Jones had been cast as Marcus Foreman, Eric Foreman's brother on House, appearing in the season six episode "Moving the Chains". In 2013, he was hired as a principal actor in the FOX television series Sleepy Hollow. The freshman drama opened to FOX's highest fall drama premiere numbers since the premiere of '24' in 2001.

From 2016 through 2019, Jones portrayed Mr. Nancy, aka the African god Anansi, in the Starz series American Gods.

Film projects

After leaving MADtv, Jones expanded his cinema resume. He appeared in a bit part in his first big screen film, In Harm's Way (1991), Jones then joined Larry David in the feature Sour Grapes (1998), playing the character of an itinerant man. Subsequently, he appeared in Woo (1990), Mike Judge's Office Space (1999), alongside fellow MADtv alumnus David Herman, and in Barry Levinson's praised drama, Liberty Heights (1999). Since then, Jones has appeared in Magnolia (1999), New Jersey Turnpikes (1999) and in Harold Ramis' Bedazzled (2000).

During the 2000s, Jones' career began to branch out. In addition to his witty appearances in the 7-Up campaigns, Jones played the role of Clifford Franklin in The Replacements (2000) and the horror film From Dusk till Dawn 3: The Hangman's Daughter (2003). In 2002, Jones landed the lead role of Daryl Chase in the action-dramedy Double Take (2001), alongside Eddie Griffin, and worked with David Duchovny, Seann William Scott and Julianne Moore in Ivan Reitman's sci-fi comedy, Evolution (2001). Jones was also in the 2009 film Cirque du Freak: The Vampire's Assistant and he appeared as the computer Vox 114 in The Time Machine (2002). His other more recent films includes Biker Boyz (2003), Godzilla (2005), Runaway Jury (2003) and Primeval (2004). Jones appeared in an uncredited cameo and played in Grindhouse Planet Terror (2007 film).

In 2011 Jones appeared in the documentary film Looking for Lenny in which he talks about Lenny Bruce and freedom of speech. In 2012, Jones starred in Joe Penna's original interactive thriller series Meridian created in conjunction with Fourth Wall Studios.

Voice acting

Jones has been featured in many voice acting projects over the years. In 1993, Jones appeared in Yuletide in the 'hood and in 1998, he made a guest appearance in the animated comedy TV Series, King Of The Hill. More recently, he lent his voice to the TV series Father of the Pride and the video games Halo 2 as the marine Sergeant Banks as well as other black marines and L.A. Rush. In 2006, he co-created, produced and voice acted for the MTV2 animated series The Adventures of Chico and Guapo.

In early April 2013, it was largely thought that Jones would be taking Tyler Perry's place as Madea. This stemmed from Jones's own report that he would be taking over the role, and photography of himself impersonating Madea. This led to public outcry from fans. Perry later revealed, however, that this was an elaborate prank played by Jones, stating, "That was an April Fools' joke that HE did. Not true. And not funny. When I’m done with Madea, she is done."

Personal life

Jones married former model Jacqueline Staph in 2009. They have a daughter. In October 2011, Jones provoked controversy when he joked on Twitter that someone should kill former Governor of Alaska and Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin. He apologized for the comment several days later.

[thecorteztwins]

Monsoon Visits Krakoa

Based off my “numerous minor Marvel women hit on Monsoon” comedy fic idea. Apologies if anyone feels their fave was maligned or OOC in this. I tried to mostly keep it to characters so obscure no one would care, but Monet St. Croix did make her fabulous way in, and I can see how one would think this behavior is beneath her. Which I don’t disagree with per se, but just try to take it as the lighthearted fic it is!

"Thank you for the assistance,” said the woman in the barely-there purple...swimsuit? Monsoon wasn’t sure. He just knew that you couldn’t yell things like...like what those men had been saying at her...just because she wore something like that. Even if it made him uncomfortable. Just as it had probably made her even more uncomfortable when said men had followed her into this deserted alley, hence why he had arrived, scaring them off. Yet she seemed...less than thrilled about it. Perhaps she saw his interference as insulting to her own capability? Western women could often be confusing like that, he was frequently unsure what would be offensive or not in their culture. He wanted to be respectful, but it often seemed like the rules were far more individualized here than in India, where--- “But it was uneeded,” she continued, stepping close to him, “Perhaps though, you can make up their loss to me. ” Fantasma traced a purple-nailed finger over his broad chest, “You’re very large and you look healthy. Your morals though are very...human...and while those are not supposed to be genetic, I’d rather not risk those being passed to my children.” “Oh,” he said, relieved but feeling no less awkward about this, “Well, I...wish you the best with your endeavors...” “You can still help with that,” she said, her form beginning to shift, growing larger, purple, clawed, fanged, horned.... “For when they hatch...they will need food...” And that was his cue to fly away. *** “Oh monsieur,” said the French Canadian mutant woman known as Murmur as she fell (more than a little deliberately) into Monsoon’s arms, “You ‘ave no idea my gratitude---not just for your rescue, but for ze touch of a man! You see, my powers, zey can only work by touch, so ze brutes here, they employed only robots to guard me!” “Oh,” said Monsoon, a little cautiously as he found himself carrying her, ”What are your powers, exactly?” ”I can make anyone anyzhing I zay,” breathed Murmur, staring into his eyes with a significant, sultry gaze, then whispered in his ear with sensual emphasis, ”Anyzhing.” Then, giggling and drawing back, she continued, “But ‘ave no worries, mon hero Monsoon, I shall not use it against you---- for I am sure that zhere is nothing I could make you do to me that you do not already want to, non?” Monsoon decided to call her a cab to the nearest Krakoa portal instead of carrying her. *** Speaking of Krakoa, Monsoon didn’t want to go there himself. He didn’t like the idea of it at all. Xavier’s ideals had been far too radical for his tastes to begin with, claiming to stand for peace and unity while cloistering a secret army of mutant soldiers away, training children to become the mutant police. And Magneto, well, he was even worse! He was half the reason there needed to BE mutant police! And now they were separating themselves on to an island, with some of the worst villains among their kind helping to RUN it! No, Monsoon wanted no part of it. Haven had made good arguments to him on why it was a good thing or at least not a bad thing or an unneeded one, but Monsoon didn’t like it and he didn’t want to be a part of it. But some of the mutant children under Haven’s care DID want to be a part of it. Monsoon said they were too young to see the danger, to see that the people running it ranged from misled radicals to literal monsters, to understand they’d be living alongside a great many criminals who had harmed others for fun and profit. But Haven had said that the children should have a choice where they lived. She believed Krakoa COULD be safe. She just also, for all her good points made about why a mutant-only land could be a good thing, had misgivings about just blindly sending the children there. She wanted to give them agency---but she also had to make sure that the options being given to them were safe. Monsoon agreed more than wholeheartedly, and had very literally leaped (into the sky, specifically, to fly to the nearest portal) at the idea of going to the island to visit the kids and snoop around, talk to the residents, get a feel for the place and how it was run...and who was running it. As soon as he stepped out of the portal, he was greeted by two women, a blonde who introduced herself as Phantazia and a redhead who said her name was Dragoness, probably due to the mechanical wings she sported. Both he recognized as former terrorists; Phantazia had been a member of the Brotherhood, Dragoness from the Mutant Liberation Front. Not the people Monsoon wanted to have much to do with...but then, investigating their sort was why he was here. After they put him through security checks, he started asking questions. Phantazia was fairly open to it, with a professional though not friendly demeanor, while Dragoness was...none of the above. ”What is your deal, buddy?!” the latter demanded, “Do you want to live here or not?!” ”I do not,” said Monsoon flatly, “But the children my sister is charged with are--” ”Then why are we wasting our time with you?!” Dragonness cut him off, tossing his paperwork from Phantazia’s clipboard. ”Because I don’t believe this place is safe!” Monsoon bellowed back. ”Then why are you--” ZAP! Phantazia let loose a burst of her electromagnetic energy. She didn’t touch either Monsoon or Dragoness with it, she just made the noise. ”Knock it off, you two!” she barked, “Whatever his reasons for being here, so long as he’s a mutant and not going to cause trouble, he’s got the right to ask anything he wants. If you don’t want to do your job and help, Tamara, you can leave! Mr. Dastoor, I’ll go over everything with you til you’re satisfied, but you MUST remain calm and polite, understand?” Dragoness flew off in a huff, and Phantazia looked pleased. ”Alright now,” she said, turning back to Monsoon, ”Now that she’s out of the picture...as I was saying...we should go over everything...to your satisfaction...” Monsoon did not catch the meaning of her tone...at first, anyway. Five minutes later, he was running off in the opposite direction at random into the wilds of Krakoa...right into where Dragoness had gone, nearly bumping into her. ”Hey! Watch it!” she snarled, her hands crackling with bio-electric bursts ready to fire, ”What?! You again?! You wanna tangle, buddy?! You wanna fight?!” ”No, no!” Monsoon placed his hands up in apology, “I am sorry, I did not mean to do that--I was not watching where I was---” ”Clearly!” she yelled, hurling one of the blasts at him. Caught off guard, he was struck full in the chest, and knocked flat on his back in the mud. He didn’t want to fight her, to commit needless violence over little more than wounded pride, his sister had brought him up better than that and he was representing her here, so he lay still for a moment deciding what to do that wouldn’t set her off again. It seems he waited too long, however, as Dragoness strutted over to him and planted a boot on his chest. ”You know,” she purred smugly, “I think I like you better from this angle...say, look how dirty you got...you’re gonna need to clean up...how does a nice long hot shower sound?” ”Er...I would much appreciate that, ma’am,” said Monsoon, a bit hesitant and confused. He would appreciate it, but he wasn’t sure what to make of her change in tone and demeanor. She sounded like...like... Oh no. He realized...she sounded like Phantazia had. And Murmur. And, to a point, Fantasma. He began trying to wriggle out from under her foot. ”Hey! Where you going big boy?!” Dragoness called after him as he scampered away into the bushes in a very undignified way. Undignified...but unmolested. *** He reached a visitors area that had a bathroom, where he was allowed to shower and swap his muddy clothes for clean ones. The bath station attendant was a woman named Lorelei---evident by how she referred to herself only in the third person---and she didn’t seem to speak English well, using a broken, childish syntax. But they communicated just fine all the same. ”Lorelei help?” she asked, as she handed him a towel and bath supplies before he headed to the showers. ”Yes, you have been very helpful,” Monsoon said, “Thank you very much, Lorelei.” ”Lorelei help soon.” ”Yes, see you soon,” he understood that was a common American way of saying goodbye. But it seemed she’d meant it a little more...literally. As he’d been washing his hair, the curtain was pulled aside, and there stood Loreleil. Completely naked. ”Lorelei help?” she said, picking up a sponge. Monsoon tore out of there, grabbing the new set of clothes on the way out. *** “Of course it is safe,” Monet St. Croix said in a dismissive tut-tut tone to Monsoon as they toured one of the residential areas, “You think I would bring my precious little sisters here if it were not?” “That was why I wanted to ask you,” said Monsoon, as the aforementioned little sisters ran around his legs, “Since you have children.” “I also have a brother. An older brother. An evil older brother who feeds on other mutants and who is ALSO on this island. If I thought for ONE moment that he could EVER even POSSIBLY get to myself or my sisters, I would fly us all halfway around the world in the blink of an eye, monsieur. I am INSULTED you even have to ASK.” “I...I see,” said Monsoon, not having expected so fiery a response, despite his own temper being similarly hot, especially when it came to his own temper. “I should hope so,” she huffed, “But...since your intentions were good, I am prepared to forgive you. What say we go somewhere Nicole and Claudette shall not bother us? Somewhere...private?” That was when he realized she had started unzipping the top of her costume. “I...er...I must converse with others, ma’am, thank you!” he said, and raised himself aloft on the winds. Thankfully, even though he was in the air, it was still beneath Monet St. Croix to follow. *** From overhead, he sighted a serene-looking glade, brilliantly green grass and foliage surrounding a clear blue natural pool, and he descended. As he touched down near the pool’s edge, a woman’s voice greeted him, and he turned to see in the shadow of a large bush, a blonde in a dark costume that had not been visible from above due to the trees. “Hello there. Thank you for joining me. I hope it doesn’t disappoint you to find someone else here---I know it’s the sort of place people go to be alone, but I never like being ENTIRELY alone. I just don’t like crowds either.” Her name was Darkstar, and, as someone raised with a few other---but not many---mutant peers in a Soviet “school” that was in fact a state facility, then went on to a lifetime of serving on mostly-Russian superhero teams, she indeed wasn’t used to either crowds or solitude. She always had at least two other teammates with her...but never a great number either, like on Krakoa, where there were no more “teams”, where all mutants were one. It reminded her of home, in that way, though when she said that to others, it was taken as a criticism. They introduced themselves, Monsoon a bit cautious, but she didn’t throw herself at him or start taking off her clothes, and it turned out she was nice. She was even receptive when he brought up his issues with Krakoa and how it was run. “But speaking of that,” she said, after listening, and even agreeing with some points, “I am a resident of Krakoa. And as a member of this state...I abide by its laws. Currently, we are being encouraged to...to breed. I realize this is quite forward, but I was wondering if you might---” And Monsoon had shot into the air and zoomed away before Laynia “Darkstar” Petrovna could even finish asking him if she could get his opinion as a man on the outfits she was considering for her date tonight *** “Oh wow,” said a blonde barely out of her teens as he landed among a crowd of mutants near her, “Looks like it’s my lucky day. But then, it always is, for the likes of me, Roulette! And you’re about to get even luckier, stranger!” Aaaaand he was in the air again.  *** Monsoon very carefully selected the next people he spoke to---namely, he ensured they were MEN. They were also villains. He’d never heard of Shinobi Shaw, but he knew Fabian Cortez, he had been in the news as the terrorist who temporarily took over Genosha, around the same time Radha had been a...Monsoon still didn’t like to think of his sister as a villain. It didn’t count! It wasn’t her fault! And of course, Radha being Radha, she said that just as no one had known her real story, her real situation, they shouldn’t assume that others didn’t have such stories of their own, but...he doubted it. Especially within three minutes of speaking to these two. But the fact they were clearly slimy, self-centered, self-important hedonists who were NOTHING like his sister meant they were probably the best people to talk to, because they were the sorts of people he was worried about. ...of course, increasingly he was wondering why, as he wasn’t sure these two seemed competent enough to actually be dangerous. ”I see,” he said stiffly once he felt he’d found out all he needed or could from this pair, and wanting to get away from them as swiftly as possible. He was starting to feel he needed another shower. But what he actually needed was clothing. He really didn’t want to go home in the...uniform, for lack of a better word, that Lorelei had provided him with. It seemed that, along with human languages and other cultural mores, the mutants of Krakoa wished to do away with human manners of dress. But Shinobi Shaw was still dressing like a...well, not how Monsoon would dress, but like SOME people in the rest of the world would. He felt like Radha might like his style though; lots of purple and gold. ”Thank you both immensely for your help, I appreciate your time and patience with me. I have but one more question to trouble you with.” ”If you must,” Fabian sighed as though this were an exhausting ordeal that he was a saint for indulging. ”Shoot, stud,” said Shinobi, twirling a lock of his hair around one gloved fingers. ”I wish to procure clothing that is not a....a skinsuit,” Monsoon said, gesturing to the one he wore. ”Understandable,” said Fabian in a gently lofty and patronizing tone, “Not all of us look as good in them as I.” ”But since Aloba here does and then some, I’m reluctant to ruin the view,” Shinobi returned, “Still, if you’re looking for anything to do with textiles....Skein is who you want to talk to.” ”Skein?” Monsoon asked, his tone revealing his familiarity with the name. ”You know her?” said Fabian, “Ah, I apologize to you for how much she’s doubtlessly RAVED about me to you. She’s hopelessly---” ”Down the street, third home on the left,” Shinobi cut him off, “Don’t let this bozo come with, or he’ll distract her entirely.” ”It’s true,” Fabian smirked, “She just can’t keep her mind on work when I’m around.” As Monsoon left, he was fairly sure he saw Shinobi’s eyes roll at the ginger’s last comment. *** Monsoon was, understandably, cautious as he entered Skein’s abode and made his request. ”Basic salwar kameez?” she replied, “Yeah, I can whip that right up. Just give me what you’re wearing now and I’ll re-arrange the fabric.” ”But, ah...this is all I have here...” Monsoon said nervously. ”Wait in my room,” Skein said. ”I...would prefer not to.” ”Look, I’m not gonna come in and molest you, just hang out with your thang out for a few minutes and I’ll pass you back your fancy new suit, k?” ”You’re...not?” Monsoon asked. Skein raised her eyebrows. She’d been joking around. But this guy seemed sincerely relieved. “Nah. You’re too much of a hardbody for me, big boy. But tell your sister I said hi.” Monsoon said he would, unaware of the implication there. Just as Haven would be later when he told her. *** As Monsoon stepped out of the Krakoa portal, he very nearly knocked over...oh no...an attractive, scantily clad woman. ”Hey, watch it buddy, I’m walking here!” she cawed at him. Ah, he’d emerged in New York. Heidi P. Franklin aka Pretty Persuasions regarded him. She in fact had NOT been walking by, but waiting outside the portal, hoping for someone to come out who could get her in. Heidi was NOT a mutant, having gained her powers through being experimented on instead, but she WAS a partier...and Krakoa sounded like one HOT party, if the rumors were to be believed. ”Hey, I know how you can make it up to me,” she purred, and Monsoon winced. He knew THAT tone by now. Pushing herself up against him, she continued, “Get me into Krakoa, big boy.” ”I wouldn’t know how,” he said, trying to push her away as gently as possible without actually touching her, “If the portal will not let you through, then there is nothing I can---” ”Oh come on now...for me?” All of a sudden he felt...aroused. More than the natural animal reaction he’d had to other women; that had been buried under his embarrassment and his personal values and his spiritual choice to abstain before marriage...this, this was stronger, clouding his mind, making him want to do...not just do her, but do anything she wanted him to. Anything. This was too far. The other women had said things. Some had even touched him. But this woman was manipulating his mind, his body, touching him from within, making him--- She grabbed his crotch. “NO!” he shoved her away, driven too far at last, a blast of wind carrying her even farther than his heavy shove had. He was momentarily horrified---but, as he saw her getting to her feet, he was not regretful. He was also not sticking around. *** ”Well?” Haven asked him when he returned, “What did you discover.” ”It, er...might not be safe for children,” he said, ”But it is definitely not safe for adults.” END

[maddie-grove]

Bi-Monthly Reading Round-Up (November/December)

Playlist

“Fallin’ for You” by Sheila Nicholls (The Perilous Gard)

“Come on Over to My Place” by the Drifters (A Gentleman Never Keeps Score)

“Bobby Jean” by Bruce Springsteen (Eleanor and Park)

“Seasons in the Sun” by Terry Jacks (One Perfect Rose)

“A Sailor’s Prayer” by Ann Price and Marilyn Maltzer (Broken Wing)

“Winter Lady” by Leonard Cohen (When a Duchess Says I Do)

“Dance Music” by the Mountain Goats (What Hearts)*

“Sweet Talkin’ Guy” by the Chiffons (Jean and Johnny)

“Know Your Onion!” by the Shins (Lost at Sea)

“The Snake and the Bookworm” by Cliff Richard (Tempting the Bride)

“Everybody Loves Me but You” by Brenda Lee (Someone to Remember)

*I also seriously considered both “I’ll Meet You Halfway” by the Partridge Family and “Sports Analogies” from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. It’s a complex book!

Best of the Bi-Month

The Perilous Gard by Elizabeth Marie Pope (1974): In the late 1550s, grave, awkward Kate Sutton is banished to a remote castle in the east of England. She’s greeted by superstitious locals, shady servants, an often-absent lord, and the lord’s guilt-ridden (and hot) younger brother. Bored and irritated by all the drama, Kate questions the circumstances of the tragedy that haunts the family. I didn’t have high expectations for this book, which I bought primarily for the gorgeous Richard Cuffari illustrations, but I was blown away. Pope creates a sublimely uncanny setting in a surprising way, and Kate is a wonderful protagonist: principled, rational, and compassionate beneath her no-nonsense exterior.

Worst of the Bi-Month

Someone to Remember by Mary Balogh (2019): In her youth, Lady Matilda Westcott rejected Charles Sawyer’s proposal at the urging of her parents, who thought him too wild. Now she’s fifty-six, loved by her extended family but stuck caring for an unappreciative elderly mother. The marriage of her niece and Charles’s estranged illegitimate son brings them together again, but she never expects anything to come of it...like a total fool. This is a cute novella with compelling family dynamics. I also appreciated the solidly middle-aged protagonists, although Balogh presents them a little too timidly, like a mom trying to get a picky eight-year-old to try asparagus.

Rest of the Bi-Month

A Gentleman Never Keeps Score by Cat Sebastian (2018): Once-popular Hartley Sedgwick is languishing in the huge townhouse his godfather left him, shunned by nearly everyone for his sexuality. Then Sam Fox, a black pugilist-turned-tavern-keeper, tries to sneak into the house to find a nude portrait of an embarrassed friend. Moved by Sam’s decency, Hartley offers his assistance in finding the portrait. As I explained in my post about my favorite Regency romance novels, I adore this book for the way Hartley and Sam’s love story is mirrored and enhanced by portrayals of many other kinds of love, between brothers and friends and parents and children and neighbors and also one very homely dog. 

Eleanor and Park by Rainbow Rowell (2012): Park, a geeky half-Korean teenager in 1986, keeps his head down and barley avoids outright ostracism in his poor, mostly white Omaha neighborhood. Eleanor, the weird white girl who shares his bus seat, is tormented at school and at home. They have no interest in being friends, but they slowly bond and fall in love over music and comics. What I liked most about this bittersweet YA novel was the ways in which the protagonists improved each other’s lives. With Park and his loving family, Eleanor gets to let down her defenses, while Eleanor’s boldness inspires Park to embrace his differences. I do wish that Park’s side of things had been developed more, however.

One Perfect Rose by Mary Jo Putney (1997): Upon learning that he’s terminally ill, Stephen, the Duke of Ashburton, freaks out and goes on an incognito tour of the English countryside without telling his family. He ends up joining an acting troupe run by the boisterous Fitzgerald family and falling in love with their adopted daughter/stage manager, Rosalind, despite the many reasons they have no future together. (Or do they?) This is a good, old-fashioned weepy romance that’s elevated by Putney’s serious attention to the theme of reconciling with one’s mortality. There’s also some extremely late-1990s New-Age-ish stuff going on, which sometimes felt a little silly but was still charming.

Broken Wing by Judith James (2008): When unconventional countess Sarah finds her long-lost little brother at a Parisian brothel, she’s overjoyed, appalled, and relieved that he was protected by sex worker Gabriel St. Croix. Grateful, she offers Gabriel a reward and insists he come to live with her and her family. This is another tear-jerking, charmingly dated romance; I felt like a teenager again, reading top-shelf angsty fanfiction. It’s best in the slow-burn first half, during which Gabriel must adjust to a massive reversal of fortune after a lifetime of trauma. The more action-packed second half makes great use of the unusual late 1790s/early 1800s setting, but it does feel hurried.

When a Duchess Says I Do by Grace Burrowes (2019): Widowed Matilda Wakefield, the Duchess of Bosendorf, has been on the run since getting mixed up in her diplomat dad’s clandestine activities. An encounter with scholarly Duncan Wentworth lands her a live-in secretarial position at his rural estate. They connect with each other, but how can love grow when they’re the object of multiple sinister plots? While this entry in the Wentworth series is not as incandescently lovely as My One and Only Duke, I’m still a sucker for spooky country houses, responsible-household-management plots, and sad early-middle-aged heroes. Burrowes is also an excellent writer, and I’m glad that I discovered her.

What Hearts by Bruce Brooks (1992): Sensitive Asa excels at school but struggles at home, thanks to his mother’s severe mental illness and his stepfather Dave’s emotional abuse. Divided into four novella-like sections, the novel follows Asa from his parents’ divorce in first grade to his first love in seventh. I liked parts of this weird, sober book when I read it as a kid, and I felt the same this time. It’s got brilliant moments, most involving Asa and Dave’s relationship, but there’s a lot of telling-not-showing in between. Brooks also can’t seem to decide on the time period; it’s probably supposed to be set 1965-1971, but it always feels like 1963, and you can only blame so much of that on the North Carolina setting.

Jean and Johnny by Beverly Cleary (1959): Short, bespectacled, and working-class, fifteen-year-old Jean feels invisible at her high school until handsome upperclassman Johnny Chessler starts paying attention to her. She’s thrilled, but her parents and sister warn against chasing him. I didn’t like this book much in middle school, but I revisited it because it occurred to me that Jean was a lesbian. Having reread it, I know I was wrong on two counts: Jean is unfortunately not a lesbian (she clearly thinks Johnny’s hot), and the book’s not that depressing. Jean’s no sad sack who’s doomed to a life of grimly chaste square dancing; she’s a legit snack who becomes increasingly self-assured and assertive. 

Lost at Sea by Bryan Lee O’Malley (2003): Raleigh, a Canadian eighteen-year-old, hitches a ride back home from California with some classmates she hardly knows after a meeting with her long-distance boyfriend ends in heartbreak. Lonely and a little disconnected from reality--she maintains the belief that her mom somehow sold her soul, which now resides in a stray cat--Raleigh slowly makes friends with her travelling companions and finds some piece of mind. Although nothing much happens in this short graphic novel, it’s one of the most authentically just-graduated-high-school stories I’ve ever read. I could relate to those feelings of fear and disappointment even in the face of exciting new possibilities.

Tempting the Bride by Sherry Thomas (2012): David Hillsborough, Lord Hastings, has desired Helena Fitzhugh, first-wave feminist and successful fiction editor, since they were kids together, but he’s always hidden behind insulting remarks. When Helena’s affair with a married man ends in scandal, though, she unhappily accepts David’s offer of marriage in order to cover it up. Then she gets hit by a carriage and loses every memory she formed after her mid-teens, which happens to be when she met David. Thomas always has an engaging style and deals with even outlandish plots in a sophisticated way, and her take on the 13 Going on 30 plot is enjoyable. However, it is rushed at the end.

[spalovis-blog]

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[odderancyart]

A Yellow Sky

Chapter 2

First

AO3

Ten foster homes in three years. Alexander Hamilton is chronically unable to just shut up and do what he’s supposed to, even when he’s trying, which has certainly had consequences for him in his short life. The Washingtons are his best shot, his caseworker keeps telling him, but Alexander is a realist. They’ll realize how annoying he is, hate how much smarter than them he is, and after a couple weeks they’ll send him away.

But it’s nice there, he finds. Far too nice. Almost like the calm before the storm.

Alexander was just in time when he stashed away the last of his belongings, placing the unimportant ones – clothes, old schoolbooks, etc – in obvious places and the ones he treasured inside the armchair. There was a flap beneath it, he’d found, and he could just fit everything there. The same moment as he straightened, he heard the thundering of footsteps in the staircase and he quickly made his way back to the bed, grabbing the book lying on top. It was from an elective in Political Science he’d taken at his last school. Just as he laid down on the bed, eager knocking came from the door.  

Expecting them to just step in, he waited for a few seconds. When they didn’t, he blinked, and hesitantly called out, “Come in.”

The door immediately flew open and a dark-skinned, black-haired boy stepped inside, grinning from ear to ear as he saw him. Alexander just stared at him. His dark-grey jeans were artfully ripped, he wore a black and white-striped shirt with a brown leatherjacket over and a pin with the French flag. There were two black rings in one of his ears and a small white stone in the other. With heavy Dr Martens’ like that, it wasn’t strange he’d been so loud in the stairs. And fuck he was tall.  

“Bonsoir!” the boy exclaimed, jumping up on the bed next to him. Alexander flinched, quickly sitting up and drawing back a bit, putting distance between them. The boy held out his hand. “Je m’appe- My name is Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier. But you can call me Lafayette.”

Cautiously, Alexander reached out and shook his hand. “Bonsoir. Je suis Alexander Hamilton,” he replied, continuing in French. Their accents were different, but it felt good to speak the language again with someone who wasn’t incompetent at it or a teacher. “Lafayette?”

With a thrilled gasp, Lafayette clapped his hands together. His eyes almost sparkled. “Tu parle français?”

He nodded, smiling hesitantly. “Oui. It’s my first language. English is my second. You didn’t answer my question.” As he added that, he braced himself. Maybe he wasn’t allowed to question the son of the house either.

“Pardon moi.” Lafayette threw an arm over his shoulder, pulling him close. Alexander stiffened. He spoke quickly, so fast most other would’ve tripping over their own words, but his were perfectly enunciated. “You’re my best friend now. None of my other friends have bothered to learn my language, so they can go fuck themselves.” He looked betrayed, but the sparkle in his eye told Alexander he wasn’t actually upset about it. Despite his better judgement, he liked the other immediately. “And Lafayette because these Américains couldn’t pronounce my name properly if I held a gun to their heads. Not even George and Martha, though they insist on calling me Gilbert. At least Lafayette doesn’t sound awful when they say it. It’s my title, you see, mon ami.  Je suis le Marquis de La Fayette. Though we call ourselves Lafayette instead in honour of our ancestor who fought in the Revolutionary War.”

A grin had begun to form at Alexander’s face as the other talked, but it fell, and he jerked back, staring at the other boy.  

“Que?”

“Marquis?” Alexander repeated, gaping. “You’re nobility?”

“Oh, yes.” Lafayette nodded, gesturing at his pin. “Not that it means much since the revolution, especially not here in America. The people seized the power then, as I’m sure you know. With all right! My family was lucky enough to keep our land and riches, though. Anyway!” His grin returned. “It’ll be so fun to have you here. My friends are excited to meet you. We’re going shopping tomorrow, getting you some new shit and stuff to decorate your room with. You’re from the Virgin Islands, non?”

Stunned into silence for once in his life, Alexander only nodded.

“Maybe you’d like the flag painted on your wall then! You must miss it. I know I miss my homeland, even if America has been very good to me.” He gestured toward the wall opposite of the bed. “I have Le Tricolore painted there myself.”

“Wait,” Alexander said without thinking. “Wait, wait, wait. Why are you talking like I’m staying? And that’d be much too expensive anyway. I can’t afford that.”

Blinking, Lafayette cocked his head. “Because you are staying, mon ami, are you not? George and Martha are your new foster parents.”

He let out a curt laugh. “Yeah. For now. No one wants me around for that long.” They were intimidated by his brains, or annoyed by his inability to shut up, or got too mad that he wouldn’t break beneath the pressure. He refused to break.

Lafayette raised an eyebrow, and Alexander leaned back. Shit. That big mouth of his acted again, indeed. There was something about his new foster brother that made him talk too freely, he started to realize already, and that was dangerous. He couldn’t trust anyone. Especially not a member of his foster family.  

“Sorry,” he forced out. “I didn’t- I didn’t mean-”

“Ah, Alexander.” Lafayette smiled, rolling the R on his tongue. There was something akin to concern in his eyes, which confused him. “Don’t underestimate us. The Washingtons are very kind people and I’m quite used to getting what I want.” His eyes glittered. “And I am thrilled to have you here.” Fishing up his phone, he looked at the time. “Merde. We are late for dinner already.”

He stood, grabbing Alexander’s wrist and pulling him toward the door. Alexander only just managed to hide his wince as he squeezed some old bruises that had almost healed, and followed. He pursed his lips, nervous. Would they be mad they were late to dinner? It wasn’t his fault, Lafayette had obviously been supposed to tell him. But they wouldn’t care about that, now would they?

As they came downstairs, a heavenly scent of cooked meat laid over the ground floor and his stomach grumbled loudly, causing Lafayette’s grin to widen. “Martha is an amazing cook. Not as good as the one home at my châteaux in Chavaniac-Lafayette, but really fucking good.”

Alexander smiled nervously back, filing that information for later. Chavaniac-Lafayette. Once he was allowed to go to school and could get on a computer, he’d google his new foster brother. If he really was a marquis there had to be some information available somewhere.

“Language, son,” an amused voice came from inside the kitchen.  

Lafayette chuckled. “Pardon, George! She’s really hecking good.” He rolled his eyes at Alexander as he spoke.

Clenching and unclenching his hand nervously, giving the other a small smile, Alexander followed the other into the kitchen. Just like the rest of the house it was huge, but it was a weird mix, which somehow worked, between old and new. A firewood stove covered a lot of one of the walls, while the one opposite of it, there was a modern one and marble-covered kitchen benches in front of which Mrs Washington stood. The floor was grey stone and in the middle of the room a huge wooden table that could easily fit ten people stood. Mr Washington was putting out white plates painted with flowers on it. Alexander frowned. Why was Mr Washington helping? Sure, many of his foster families had forced him to assist in the kitchen but that was because he was, well, unimportant in their eyes. A nobody. But in none of the homes he’d been in, including his own back when his father was still around, had he seen the husbands help, and his mother had never asked him or James for help.

This place was already weirder than he’d expected, and he hadn’t had many expectations for normalcy.  

“Ah, boys,” Mr Washington said, and Alexander stopped dead in the doorframe. The commanding tone almost made him want to stand in attention. “Take a seat, you’re just in time.” He grinned at Alexander. “We suspected that Gilbert would keep you busy so we sent him up early.”

That made Lafayette scowl as he slid down into one of the chairs, and he stuck out his tongue at Mr Washington. “Connard.”

Mrs Washington turned around, a wooden spoon in her hand. She stared at him strictly, though Alexander saw the corner of her mouth twitch. “We may not be fluent in French, Gilbert, but we still understand you when you insult us.”

Blushing slightly, Lafayette opened his mouth, likely to apologize, before he suddenly sat up straight. “Oh! But Alexander does! He speaks French. Fluently!” he exclaimed, bouncing in his seat.

Alexander swallowed as all attention was suddenly on him where he was still standing in the doorframe. Hesitantly, he made his way over to the table, nodding. “Oui.”

“Impressive,” Mr Washington said, looking at him up and down with a hint of a smile on his face. “Do you speak anything else?”

Once again, he nodded. “English, obviously,” he began hesitantly. They wouldn’t ask if they didn’t want to know, would they? Except that two years ago he lived with a family who’d constantly ask him things and then get furious every time he revealed he knew more than them. “Spanish, almost fluently, and I understand Hebrew and some Danish.”

“Danish?��� Mrs Washington asked, sounding confused.

“St. Croix belonged to Denmark for a long time,” he explained softly. “Most of them left when they sold it to the United States, but when I lived with my first foster family before the hurricane, we had some neighbours descended from Danes who still spoke it between themselves. They taught me some.”

“Woah.” She stepped back, gesturing toward the food on the stove. “That’s incredible, Alexander.” Her voice was warm, and his heart skipped a beat from the unexpected praise.

“Re- really?”  

When was the last time someone had told him that in such a motherly tone? He swallowed. Not since he left St. Croix, he was sure. His foster family there had been wonderful, but he’d only stayed there for a few months before the hurricane tore the island into pieces. Eventually, most of the orphans had been shipped off to the mainland.  

Mrs Washington stepped up to him, reaching out to stroke his cheek. Alexander flinched away, his breath catching in his throat, before he realized what she’d actually done. Blood rose to his cheeks as he stared down at the floor, embarrassed. Now they’d think he was a coward. Scared of something that small. Or worse, that he was broken.

Her hand had stopped mid-air. Pulling it back to her side, she nodded instead, still smiling gently. “Really. We saw from your grades that you have to be smart, but that’s astonishing.”

“Indeed, mon ami,” Lafayette agreed, watching him closely. He grinned again when he saw that Alexander was looking at him, leaning back in his chair. It turned into a smirk, and he raised an eyebrow at Alexander, almost in a challenge. “Maybe I’ve finally, how you say, met my equal.”

Turning around, Mrs Washington slapped him gently over the head, and Lafayette turned to grin at her instead. “Very modest of you, Gilbert.”

“You know me,” he replied, grin widening. “L’homme le plus modeste sur la terre.”  

The most modest man on earth. Alexander snorted, causing Lafayette to wiggle his eyebrows. “Sit down, Alexander.”  

He pointed toward the chair next to his, and Alexander obeyed automatically, folding his hands in his lap. He eyed the food on the stove, wondering how much he would be allowed. His stomach ached, and he hoped it’d at least be enough to soothe it if not enough to really sate him. I’ve never been satisfied used to apply to his place in the world, but lately, the words had taken a much more literal meaning.

With a smile, Mrs Washington gestured toward it. “Bon appetite, boys.”

Immediately, Lafayette was on his feet, plate in his hands as he rushed up to the stove and started shovelling food from the pot. At Mrs Washington’s urging gaze, Alexander followed. His hands trembled as he slowly made his way to the food, looking it over. A stew in a pot and potatoes, and there was so much of it and he didn’t know how much he was allowed to take. His breaths grew shallow as he reached out for the potato spoon. Careful not to spill a single drop, he put two potatoes and a spoonful of stew on his plate. It wasn’t enough, but it was safe.

“Non, mon ami,” Lafayette said, grabbing the spoon from him and laying on more food. “You are a growing boy. Eat.”

As the tower of food on his plate grew, Alexander stared at it in pure shock. He didn’t think he’d had that much food at once since he left the island. His eyes were wide and confused as he looked up at Lafayette. “I don’t- I don’t need that much,” he got out, eyes flickering to Mr and Mrs Washington. He desperately hoped they wouldn’t mind it, wouldn’t get mad at him.

“Fadaises.” Nonsense. ”You are my age, non?”

He nodded. “I think so. Sixteen.”

“Oui. I know me and my friends are hungry all the time. You must eat, Alexander. You are much too thin.” With that, he went back to the table and Alexander followed, watching the other beginning to devour his food while Mr and Mrs Washington went to serve themselves. His stomach growled, but he laid his hands in his lap, squeezing them together as the delicious scent filled him. He hadn’t been given permission to eat yet and he really didn’t want them to take the food away because he rushed into it.

They sat down as well, opposite of him and Lafayette, and Mrs Washington nodded encouragingly at him as she grabbed her own cutlery. “Aren’t you hungry, Alexander?”

“I’m fine, ma’am,” he replied as neutrally as he could, but his stomach protested, growling again. He winced.

Mr Washington chuckled, though there was an odd undertone to it. “It doesn’t seem to agree. Eat, son, or Martha will think you don’t like her cooking.”

“Thank you, sir,” he mumbled before grabbing his fork and shovelling the first forkful of it into his mouth. He only just held in a moan as the thick flavour spread in his mouth, full of spices, and he closed his eyes for a moment, savouring it. When he opened them again, he found the others watching him in amusement. Going red, he ducked his head. “It’s delicious, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” When he dared look up again, Mrs Washington was watching him with warm brown eyes. It sent another rush of blood to his cheeks. It was so weird to have anyone look at him like that. And while it was nice, it also made him uncomfortable. Left him wondering when the penny would drop and there’d be no more sweetness. When they would realize how annoying he was.

“So, Gilbert, what did you, Hercules and John get up to this time?” she asked Lafayette, and Alexander sighed in relief as the attention was moved away from him. He ate quickly, determined to get as much into his stomach as physically possible before they decided he’d had enough. Still, he raised an eyebrow. Lafayette had a friend named Hercules?

Lafayette lit up. “We went to the mall! John needed to buy new art supplies and toys for Juggler – his dog,” he added, obviously for Alexander’s sake. “John’s family is from South Carolina where they have like, an enormé farm, and he brought with him this big hairy sheepdog they moved here. Then we tried out the new coffee shop. They’ve got the fanciest fucking drinks, it’s delightful!”

Unable to help himself, Alexander perked up at the mention of coffee. Maybe if he was good, they’d allow him to go out on his own and he could go there. He had a few dollars saved up.

Noticing this, Mr Washington turned to smile at him. “You like coffee then?”  

“Yessir,” he replied quickly, fiddling with his fork as he sat up straight. Dammit, if they were talking with him, he couldn’t eat.  

“Maybe you’d want to go with Gilbert and his friends there someday?” he suggested.

“They’ve been dying to meet you!” Lafayette exclaimed, gently punching Alexander’s arm, and he couldn’t help his flinch. The other boy’s hand froze mid-air and he dropped it again, but kept grinning.

The idea of going out with Lafayette and his friends was foreign in Alexander’s mind. Why would they want him to come with them? A stranger, a nobody, and an orphan. There was no good reason for it. At least not one he liked. His eyes flickered to Mrs Washington, who was the only one who hadn’t given her opinion yet.

“I think that sounds like a marvellous idea, if you’re feeling up to it,” she agreed. “Of course you don’t have to if you don’t think you’re ready yet, but it might be good to know some people other than Gilbert when you start going to school.”

School. Oh, right. With his last family, he’d been home-schooled so no one would notice the very suspicious bruising. He couldn’t help but grin at the thought. School. Fuck, he couldn’t wait until then. “If you think it’s a good idea, ma’am. When will I go to school?” He couldn’t hide his excitement.

“We’ll have to get you written in first,” Mr Washington said, a smile on his face. “But if you feel you’re ready, I’m sure we can have you start at Monday.”

He nodded eagerly. “Please sir.”

“I’m glad to see you’re that interested in going to school.” He hummed, amusement written over his face as he looked to Lafayette, who made a face. “You’ll find not everyone in this house is.”

“It’s so fucking early,” Lafayette moaned. “It should be illegal to make teenagers get up at that time.”

“I don’t mind,” Alexander said timidly. Not like he slept much anyway. That reminded him, he was going to need a new journal soon. Hopefully he could get to a bookshop or steal one from school. And maybe also some instant coffee powder. It was what kept him alive during those times when he wasn’t allowed to go downstairs and make coffee whenever he wanted.

Lafayette gaped, looking between Alexander and his adoptive father with wide eyes. “You can’t be a teenager, it is simply not possible.”

Mr and Mrs Washington laughed, and even Alexander couldn’t help but smile. He just couldn’t dislike Lafayette... yet.

“So, Alexander,” Mrs Washington eventually said, just in time for him to start to feel full. He looked up from his plate, where there still was food, debating how the hell he was going to manage to finish it all. “Why don’t you tell us a little about yourself?”

Dread filled him. “There’s- There’s not much to tell, ma’am.”

“Call me Martha, dear. And I’m sure there’s something. What do you like to do?”

‘Call me Martha’. Alexander almost laughed at the mere thought. Thanks, but no thanks, he’d like to keep his teeth. But then a cold feeling washed over him. “I- I like to write, Mrs Washington,” he replied quietly.  

If she didn’t want him to say ma’am he wouldn’t, though he couldn’t imagine why. He sent out a quiet prayer to the God he’d stopped believing in many years ago that they wouldn’t ask to read what he’d written. The last family had forced him to give him his journals, and then laughed in his face over the fact that he dared to dream he could become someone.  

She looked interested, and so did Mr Washington and Lafayette, leaning in over the table. He swallowed.

“What do you write?” Mr Washington looked at him in interest.

“...Mostly essays.” He didn’t want to be here. Leaning back in his chair, he stared down in his lap.

“Mon ami,” Lafayette interrupted. “You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to. We understand.” When Alexander looked up at him, wide-eyed, he smiled gently. “Have you finished?”

After a moment of hesitation, he nodded, glancing at Mrs Washington to check if she got mad he hadn’t eaten it all. To his relief, she didn’t stop smiling.  

“I’m sure you must be very tired, it has been a long day.”

When he said that, Alexander realized he was right. After all that food and all the excitement of today, his body felt heavy. He hid a yawn behind his hand.

“Oh of course,” Mrs Washington said. “Go to bed, Alexander.”

He nodded, standing up at the clear dismissal. “Thank you for the food, Mrs Washington. Goodnight.”  

Annoyance hit him, but he hid it well. He was sixteen, and had taken care of himself since his mother died. He hated when his foster parents told him to go to bed. Particularly after all the times he’d been sent to bed ridiculously early as a punishment. Better than being beaten, but still fucking awful. Especially if it was before dinner.

“You’re welcome, dear.” She smiled warmly.

“Sweet dreams,” Mr Washington said. “I’ll pull some threads and see if I can get you written in before the weekend ends.”

“Thank you, sir.” He was grateful, he really was, but resentment still simmered in him as he turned around and went upstairs, back to his bedroom. Go to bed, Alexander.  

How controlling would the Washingtons be, was the question. Alexander almost didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he was scared to find out.