#Mid Century Modern peace

[caseyno-royale]

[squarepeace]

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[norikuna]

CHERI CHERI LADY — choso kamo minors dni

prologue. → its hard not to be endlessly fond of your sweet boyfriend. he's quiet, unassuming but sweet, oddly so for a half-curse. but god, you want to jump his bones so bad.

pairing. boyfriend!choso kamo x afab!reader

warnings+. nothing really wild, just soft and sweet sèx with choso. first times, kissing and making out, heaps of touching, mild awkwardness but its sincere, creàmpiè...? choso is lowkey a súb, but there's switch in him too. choso calls reader 'my lady' near the start. established but new relationship.

word count. 2.7k song inspiration. cheri cheri lady — modern talking (1985)

a/n. gifs look so ugly on mobile im maddddd i promise its hd on desktop 😓 choso is suchhh a cutie. but this is lowkey mid but im too tired 😭

mp3. cheri, cheri lady, living in devotion, it's always like the first time. let me take a part...

you've been running your fingers gently through choso's hair, the soft strands slipping between your fingers as his head rests on your lap. his feathery black locks fall loosely around his face, and he's quite a vision, sharp and sorrowful features framed with a rare and private softness.

but now choso shifts a bit, drawing in a slow breath and you catch a glimpse of those haunting hazel eyes ringed by dark shadows, and clearly something is on his mind. it's sweet, you think, how shy he is — how his gaze flickers away before he speaks.

its a soft murmur of your name, low and husky; clearly satisfised like a large cat curled up on your lap and it makes you laugh, pressing a breathy kiss to his warm temple.

"my lady..." and it is said so softly that you don't almost hear it, but the reverence in his tone makes your heart shake, and it bewilders you at how he's so capable of the gentlest violence that unravels you in such a tender way.

you pause, surprised by the sudden tenderness of his words. he’s usually reserved, even guarded while fond, but now, calling you his lady, there’s a vulnerability in his expression that feels like he’s handing you something precious. you smile gently, watching him with a quiet love that makes his face flush, the faintest hint of colour blooming under that dark mark across his nose.

"choso…" you say his name softly, running a hand through his hair once more.

he looks away, smiling a bit sheepishly, his rough, calloused hand reaching for yours and intertwining your fingers, though his grip remains gentle. he hesitates, as though choosing his words carefully, and then his thumb brushes over your knuckles, slow and deliberate.

"i just never thought…" he trails off, swallowing as he looks up at you, “that someone like you would…" choso stops, embarrassed, but his gaze is so earnest it makes your heart skip a beat.

"i think you should get used to it," you say softly, squeezing his hand back.

his pink lips turn up slightly in a rare, almost boyish smile, and he leans a little closer, letting his guard fall just enough for you to see a warmth and devotion behind those tired, haunted eyes.

he’s such an old soul, carrying with him the age of over a century. but still, being locked as a death painting isn't quite the right step for emotional development and romance is something new and vulnerable for him, something he’s still learning to give and accept.

the thought brings a smile to your lips as you gaze at him, his eyes closed in a rare moment of peace. gently, you lean forward, brushing a soft, feather-light kiss against his lips, but the moment your lips touch, his hand finds your jaw, his fingers rough but tender as they cradle your face.

you quietly gasp as choso deepens the kiss, pulling you closer, his lips warm and firm against yours. he often has this effect on you, this feeling of intolerable longing and devotion and you part your lips slightly. his other thick arm wraps around you, holding you securely, his grip strong but his movements are careful, so utterly mindful of you.

the kiss lingers, and when you finally pull away, his hazel eyes meet yours, slightly dazed but filled with a depth of emotion that leaves you breathless. and aching.

intimacy is something that is...new to choso. when you first pressed your lips to cheeks, you thought that every blood cell in his body would explode, so flushed was he. and to your great amusement, he had mildly jumped. and so, you've never broached the topic of anything closer.

but god, you want him so bad.

"cho -," and your breathy purr of the nickname has the half-curse shifting up so he's no longer in your lap, but now chasing after your lips, leaning down so you're caged in his arms, and you run your hands up choso's arms, feeling solid and defined muscle beneath your clenched fingertips.

there's a slight roughness to his skin, and as your hands trail upwards, you notice how his muscles shift beneath your touch, taut yet responsive.

choso pulls away reluctantly from you, even half-curses need air, of course. but his lips are glossed, and slightly parted, in a deeper shade of blood-red. and a faint flush colours his pallid features, tousled and so beautifully undone that you bite your lips, hands fisted in the soft, woven fabric of his robes.

but now your boyfriend's large hands are moving with surprising gentleness as they fiddle with the hem of your own top, the roughness of his fingers curling into thin cotton, and each electric brush of his fingers against the light hair dusting your stomach sends bolts curling lower between your thighs.

"may i?" his voice is soft, laced with a quiet shyness but the rasp gives away the want that he must feel. and so, you nod and hope that he can't perceive how you tremble, hoping that he can't sense the way his hazel gaze pulls at you.

but he looks at you as if everything has fallen away, and you are no longer of this realm, but rather hanging the stars in the night sky for him.

and choso is now peeling the top away from your skin, and his eyes come to rest on your chest. at the sight of your perked nipples, his mouth parts slowly and softly, and you giggle at his awe. and so, you reach for his large hand and pull it closer to you, letting one hand cup your breast, "it's okay, baby. you can touch."

he releases a breathy "thank you," pressing his rose-bud lips gently to the tender skin of your chest. his kisses are insistent, and you sigh as he dips his mouth in between the shadow of your chest, "you're doing so well, choso." you don't miss at how your boyfriend's brows furrow in concentration, a tremor in his broad figure.

"hmmph," and choso separates his mouth from your sensitive breasts to speak clearer, "you're so beautiful." there is no pretense in his tone, no hesitation, "more than i could ever have imagined."

you curl your fingers in choppy mahogany hair, pulling him closer as he continues his ministrations, "yeah, have you imagined this?" and your tone is teasing, letting him release a wet laugh into your torso.

"do i have to say?" and choso looks up at you with hazy eyes, sharp canines peeking out from the corners of his mouth.

"mhmm, fuck!" turns out he's quite the biter.

hes leaving small bite marks on your neck and his teeth are surprisingly honed in on letting small bruises bloom on thin skin, marking you. small indentations and pressure on your chest and stomach leaving behind petals and flowers of stinging pink and cherry red.

"i have thought about it," and he's now soothing his tongue over the offended marks, "thought about you so much." and now his eyes are wider as he meets your gaze again, "is that wrong?"

you laugh, and a foggy burn and ache is settling between the apex of your thighs by now. but you want him to feel good first, to show him what it feels like to be pleasured. you press a single finger to his lips, watching as his disheveled gape reels in the surprise of being interrupted, "lean back, cho."

and he does, giving you the perfect opportunity to flip positions once more, switching so you are no longer caged by his arms, but rather straddling thick thighs that tense under his soft robes. his arms hover at his sides for a moment, and you can tell he's aching to run his hands over your topless torso once more, but they settle instead on your waist, fingers digging into the flesh above the crux of your spine.

he's fidgeting, shifting and you don't miss the quiet "please," that falls from his mouth in that low, gravel-hewn tone.

you poke a single fingernail into his neck, right above his bobbing adam's apple, letting the nail prick mildly and gently into his skin, "be patient."

your hands are in the waistband of his wide, loose pants and your hand moves past the soft brush of dark curls over his groin. for a while, you probe around his muscled thighs, running and flicking your fingertips over sensitive skin as he whines into your kisses.

"oh my god - i don't think i can...it feels so good -," and you think your boyfriend has never looked more tempting. choso's tearing down on his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth, and soon he's pulling on your lips, harshly kissing you.

you laugh, "you can, we've barely just begun." your hands find his cock, and you duck your face into his veined neck to hide your expression of surprise.

frankly putting it, it's massive. it's thick and girthy, and its practically throbbing in your fist. and choso's stuttering, jolting in your hold, "my love," and he draws out the name with such a shallow cry that you take pity on him, pulling on the silky, damp skin until its out of his pants, and hitting the cold air of the night.

"mhm," you lean down, ignoring the twinge in your back from the awkward position, "what do you want me to do, cho?" and you run your thumb over the fat head, "do you want me to do this?"

you press a soft, innocent kiss to the pulsing tip, before parting your lips ever so slightly to take the first inch into your mouth, drawing your lips back with a smack.

"haah - i...i didn't know you could do that, ah!" choso huffs, and you marvel at how he looks like a deity carved out of stone, one of perfection.

"i can do many things. like this," and you press the flat of your tongue in broad strokes to his cock, taking pride in how he's practically shuddering from your work.

truth be told, you just wanted to jump his bones and have him in you, like right now. but one look at the size, at the several girthy inches had you reeling. and you ignore the coiling tension, lifting your mouth away from his cock and he whimpers, a question dancing on his tongue.

you shift your weight back, leaning further against his bent knees as your boyfriend's gaze is...shaky. like he isn't sure where to look. how to take and drink you in. whether his eyes need to rest on your jostling chest, or....lower.

lower to where you've parted your legs, spreading your thighs while you straddle him. moving the laced edges of your underwear to the side, and you watch as choso's mouth falls open ever so slightly with a soft "oh!" like the air has been punched out of him.

"wan' you cho. want you so bad," and your right hands finds its way in between your thighs, brushing over hot slick, "but you're too big, you're gonna have to do something for me first," and you wonder, when did you start begging?

choso swallows thickly, eyes not moving from your drooling slit that glimmered with a faint sheen in the dim light, his tone dulcet, "what do you want me to do?"

you giggle again, pressing a kiss to his forehead briefly, "you're so helpful, baby. and here -," you take your index finger, tapping it briefly, once or twice on your clit, jolting from the stimulation, before running it through your sticky folds, "you just gotta do this for a while, just gotta keep this up, and then!"

you cut off your own sentence with a gasp, making sure choso's eyes are trained on you, as you dip your finger right past your walls, curling it upwards. not enough to hit that spongy patch, but enough to have you clenching down, "you just gotta do this too, cho. can add more fingers if you - hnngh, like!"

you need not say more, for the minute you retract your hand, his fingertips have already replaced yours, and you're suddenly twisting on him from the sudden contact. choso's good, fuck, he's good.

his touch is searing, as he explores the translucent gloss of your cunt, rolling his fingers through your folds and pressing his thumb down on your clit that makes you squeal, "ngh, cho. right there, fuck, that feels so good," and you're rolling your hips into him, at a steady pace.

"am i doing this right, pretty?" and choso's tone is petulant, achy, "is this right, is this, ohh, this good enough for you?" and how could you ever claim it wasn't? not when a thick finger is breaching your gummy walls, and then another — and his digits are pressing right into your pussy. if you were already this full, how would you take his cock?

"cho - cho!" you shake him out of his reverie, pulling his fingers out and away and he glowers up at you, apparently offended that you were the one depriving him of such bliss.

"you didn't finish. did i do something wrong?"

"felt so fuckin' good, baby. but i think i'll die if you're not in me, like right now," and you cock your own hips back and run your slick, weeping cunt over the hot skin of his cock as choso suddenly throws his head back, and he mutters something that you don't catch, a curse in an older dialect.

each inch, each press of his veiny cock working through your pussy has the two of you keening, and you're suddenly letting his arms wrap around you, hold you stable as you let him sheathe himself in to the hilt.

choso's hands bruise at your hips once more, and you're not quite sure what has shifted in your sweet, shy boyfriend, but now he's suddenly cockier, and a cunt-struck twisted grin is plastered on his face, as he bucks his hips up, giving you little time to adjust to his sheer size, "if i had known it was this good, hnngh, ah! would have - would have done this ages ago. so long ago..."

you hiccup, tittering as you run your hands through dark strands, "yeah, that good, huh cho? got you pussy whipped like this?"

"so much," choso nods, and his pink mouth is parted as he whines out, right after you squeeze down on his length, letting him knock and jostle around in your pussy, as his swollen tip kisses your cervix, "maybe i just am, hahh, whipped," and his fingers are still running obedient taps and swirls around your clit, big hands squirming to fit in between the space of your mound and his groin, "cherish you, you know? love you, love you so much."

you kiss him, deeply, letting his mouth ghost upwards trying to catch the faint trail of spit as you separate, "love you too, cho."

he's now set a more desparate rhythm that leaves you quaking in his hold, and the feeling of his cock massaging your inner walls has you seeing stars.

and it hits you like a knife, the sharp feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock, milking the thick, white seed right out of him. you marvel at how choso's eyes roll back into his head and the most delicious groan is ripped out of him, one that you go to capture with your mouth, swallowing it up.

your own back arches as a wave of pleasure overtakes you, and leaves you shaking as you're pushed over the edge, and your heart is pounding so loudly, you can hear it in your eyes.

but choso makes no moves to shift you away from his cock, and instead he's letting out a rare laugh, one of joy, as you feel the sticky strings of his pearly cum coat the skin that presses into you.

"you're cute, cho."

his fingers are trailing faint little shapes on your chest, and you realise they're small hearts, and you bite back a grin at how your aged, half-curse, beautiful boyfriend finds romantic gestures with such ease.

"i think you're the most beautiful person in the entire world."

you mock-huff, smashing your lips against his once more, "wanna be on top this time?" surely, he can go another round?

[elbiotipo]

Honestly surprised the rest of south America doesn't hate Brazil. We were such pieces of shit in the 19th century lol. Constantly installing puppet governments in Uruguay and Argentina, killing 80% of Paraguay's male population, etc. Real empire stuff lol

It was a big deal between the mid XIX and early XX century, the Argentina-Brazil rivalry today is mostly fútbol but back then it was a real geopolitical thing (see the South American Dreadnought Race, one of the stupidest episodes of the continent). I'm not sure when the modern sense of Latin American unity started to develop (since the idea predates independence) but I think it was in the period of relative peace in the XXth century. Perón is one of the first Argentine leaders of note who especifically talks about an union with Brazil to overcome imperialism.

When I look back at the sad mess that was the XIX century and the wars of independence and "national organization" it only reinforces my belief that you can't understand Latin American history without taking it as a whole. Brasil intervened in Argentina, Argentina intervened in Brasil, Chile with Bolivia and Perú, Colombia with the Caribbean, and all with the interventions of the European powers (IIRC Spain tried to invade Perú as late as the 1840s) and the US, it's all connected.

[fatehbaz]

[A]nti-homeless laws [...] rooted in European anti-vagrancy laws were adapted across parts of the Japanese empire [...] at the turn of the 20th century. [...] [C]riminalising ideas transferred from anti-vagrancy statutes into [contemporary] welfare systems. [...] [W]elfare and border control systems - substantively shaped by imperial aversions to racialised ideas of uncivilised vagrants - mutually served as a transnational legal architecture [...] [leading to] [t]oday's modern divides between homeless persons, migrants, and refugees [...].

---

By the Boer Wars (1880–1902), Euro-American powers and settler-colonial governments professed anxieties about White degeneration and the so-called “Yellow Peril” alongside other existential threats to White supremacy [...]. Japan [...] validated the creation of transnational racial hierarchies as it sought to elevate its own global standing [...]. [O]ne key legal instrument for achieving such racialised orders was the vagrancy concept, rooted in vagrancy laws that originated in Europe and proliferated globally through imperial-colonial conquest [...].

[A]nti-vagrancy regulation [...] shaped public thinking around homelessness [...]. Such laws were applied as a “criminal making device” (Kimber 2013:544) and "catch-all detention rationale" (Agee 2018:1659) targeting persons deemed threats for their supposedly transgressive or "wayward interiority" (Nicolazzo 2014:339) measured against raced, gendered, ableist, and classed norms [...]. Through the mid-20th century, vagrancy laws were aggressively used to control migration [and] encourage labour [...]. As vagrancy laws fell out of favour, [...] a "vagrancy concept" nonetheless thrived in welfare systems that similarly meted out punishment for ostensible vagrant-like qualities [...], [which] helps explain why particular discourses about the mobile poor have persisted to date [...].

---

During high imperialism (1870–1914), European, American, and Japanese empires expanded rapidly, aided by technologies like steam and electricity. The Boer Wars and Japan's ascent to Great Power status each profoundly influenced trans-imperial dynamics, hardening Euro-American concerns regarding a perceived deterioration of the White race. [...] Through the 1870s [...] the [Japanese] government introduced modern police forces and a centralised koseki register to monitor spatial movement. The koseki register, which recorded geographic origins, also served as a tool for marking racialised groups including Ainu, Burakumin, Chinese, [...] and Korean subjects across Japan's empire [...]. The 1880 Penal Code contained Japan's first anti-vagrancy statute, based on French models [...]. Tokyo's Governor Matsuda, known for introducing geographic segregation of the rich and poor, expressed concern around 1882 for kichinyado (daily lodgings), which he identified as “den[s] for people without fixed employment or [koseki] registration” [...].

Attention to “vagrant foreigners” (furō-gaikokujin) emerged in Japanese media and politics in the mid-1890s. It stemmed directly from contemporary British debates over immigration restrictions targeting predominantly Jewish “destitute aliens” [...].

The 1896 Landing Regulation for Qing Nationals barred entry of “people without fixed employment” and “Chinese labourers” [...], justified as essential "for maintaining public peace and morals" in legal documents [...]. Notably, prohibitions against Chinese labourers were repeatedly modified at the British consulate's behest through 1899 to ensure more workers for [the British-affiliated plantation] tea industry. [...]

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Simultaneously, new welfaristic measures emerged alongside such punitive anti-vagrancy statutes. [...] Such border control regulations were eventually standardised in Japan's first immigration law, the 1918 Foreigners’ Entry Order. [...] This turn towards instituting racialised territorial boundaries should be understood in light of empire's concurrent welfarist turn [...]. Japanese administration established a quasi-carceral workhouse system in 1906 [in colonized territory of East Asia] [...] which sentenced [...] vagrants to years in workhouses. This law still treated vagrancy as illegal, but touted its remedy of compulsory labour as welfaristic. [...] This welfarist tum led to a proliferation of state-run programmes [...] connecting [lower classes] to employment. Therein, the vagrancy concept became operative in sorting between subjects deemed deserving, or undeserving, of aid. Effectively, surveillance practices in welfare systems mobilised the vagrancy concept to, firstly, justify supportive assistance and labour protections centring able-bodied, and especially married, Japanese men deemed “willing to work” and, secondly, withhold protections from racialised persons for their perceived waywardness [...] as contemporaneous Burakumin, Korean, and Ainu movements frequently protested [...]. [D]uring the American occupation (1945–1952), not only were anti-vagrancy statutes reinstituted in Japan's 1948 Minor Offences Act, but [...] the 1946 Livelihood Protection Act (Article 2) excluded “people unwilling to work or lazy” from social insurance coverage [...].

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Imperial expansion relied on not only claiming new markets and territories, but also using borders as places for negotiating legal powers and personhood [...]. Japan [...] integrated Euro-American ideas and practices attached to extraterritorial governance, like exceptionalism and legal immunity, into its legal systems. [...] (Importantly, because supportive systems [welfare], like punitive ones, were racialised to differentially regulate mobilities according to racial-ethic hierarchies, they were not universally beneficial to all eligible subjects.) [...]

At the turn of the century, imperialism and industrial capitalism had co-produced new transnational mobilities [which induced mass movements of poor and newly displaced people seeking income] [...]. These mobilities - unlike those celebrated in imperial travel writing - conflicted with racist imaginaries of who should possess freedom of movement, thereby triggering racialised concerns over vagrancy [...]. In both Euro-American and Japanese contexts, [...] racialised “lawless” Others (readily associated with vagrancy) were treated as threats to “public order” and “public peace and morals”. [...] Early 20th century discourse about vagrants, undesirable aliens, and “vagrant foreigners” [...] produced [...] "new categories of [illegal] people" [...] that cast particular people outside of systems of state aid and protection. [...] [P]ractices of illegalisation impress upon people, “the constant threat of removal, of being coercively forced out and physically removed [...] … an expulsion from life and living itself”.

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All text above by: Rayna Rusenko. "The Vagrancy Concept, Border Control, and Legal Architectures of Human In/Security". Antipode [A Radical Journal of Geography] Volume 56, Issue 2, pages 628-650. First published 24 October 2023. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Text within brackets added by me for clarity. Presented here for criticism, teaching, commentary purposes.]

[metamatar]

In 1975, civilian nuclear technology was part of a worldwide strategy to bring the Organization of Petroleum-Exporting Countries (OPEC) to heel. That body’s power seemed unprecedented, given that most of its countries were historically impoverished or “backward” peoples. [...]

Many developing countries did adopt nuclear technologies, often with crucial parts of their national infrastructures relying on American and European expertise, equipment, and fuel. Rather than seeing liberation from nature, such countries faced renewed forms of dependence. Iran certainly never gained reliable access to uranium and did not become the economic miracle envisioned by Ansari back in 1975. Instead of lifting up the poorer nations of the world, the global nuclear order seemed structured in ways reminiscent of the colonial era. The most heated debates within the IAEA pitted the nuclear weapons states against the so-called LDCs—less developed countries. The agency never became a storehouse for fission products. Instead, one of its primary functions was to monitor an arms control treaty—the Treaty 4 on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons. By the end of the century, the IAEA was referred to as a “watchdog,” known for its cadre of inspectors. In 2003, IAEA inspections were crucial talking points in public debates about the invasion of Iraq by the United States [...] evidence gathered over the years by the agency created for the peaceful atom was being interpreted by the United States government as justification for military intervention. [...]

Focusing only on arms control glosses over the domestic politics of nuclear programs, particularly the role of high technology as symbols of state power and legitimacy. But it also does not square with what scholars of the Cold War have been pointing out for decades—that governments, especially the United States, deployed science and technology as diplomatic tools, to achieve feats of prestige, to shape business arrangements, to conduct clandestine surveillance, or to bind countries together with technical assistance programs. Poorer countries’ dreams of modernization, of using advanced technology to escape hunger, poverty, and the constraints of nature—these were the stock-in-trade of US diplomacy. Why, then, should we imagine that the promises connected to peaceful uses of atomic energy were any less saturated with geopolitical maneuvers and manipulation? [...]

American officials in the late 1940s and early 1950s were very worried that commercial nuclear power would siphon off supplies of uranium and monazite needed for the weapons arsenal. So they explicitly played down the possibility of electricity generation from atomic energy and instead played up the importance of radioisotopes for medicine and agriculture—because such radioisotopes were byproducts of the US weapons arsenal and did not compete with it. The kinds of technologies promoted in the developing world by the United States, the USSR, and Europeans thus seemed neocolonial, keeping the former colonies as sites of resource extraction—a fact noticed, and resented, by government officials in India, Brazil, and elsewhere. Mutation plant breeding, irradiation for insect control or food sterilization, and radioisotope studies in fertilizer—these were oriented toward food and export commodities and public health, problems indistinguishable from those of the colonial era. These were not the same kinds of technologies embraced by the global North, which focused on electricity generation through nuclear reactors, often as a hedge against the rising political power of petroleum-producing states in the Middle East. By the mid-1960s and 1970s, the United States and Europe did offer nuclear reactors even to some of the most politically volatile nations, as part of an effort to ensure access to oil. Convincing petroleum suppliers of their dire future need for nuclear reactors was part of a strategy to regain geopolitical leverage. Despite the moniker “peaceful atom,” these technologies were often bundled in trade deals with fighter jets, tanks, and other military hardware [...]

By the close of the century, two competing environmental narratives were plainly in use. One was critical of atomic energy, drawing on scientific disputes about the public health effects of radiation, the experience of nuclear accidents such as Three Mile Island (1979) and Chernobyl (1986), or the egregious stories of public health injustice—including negligence in protecting uranium miners or the wanton destruction and contamination of indigenous peoples’ homelands. In contrast was the narrative favored by most governments, depicting nuclear technology in a messianic role, promising not only abundant food, water, and electricity, but also an end to atmospheric pollution and climate change. [...]

As other scholars have noted, the IAEA tried to maintain a reputation of being primarily a technical body, devoid of politics. But it had numerous political uses. For example, it was a forum for intelligence gathering, as routinely noted by American Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) documents. It also outmaneuvered the World Health Organization and Food and Agriculture Organization in the early 1960s and was able to assert an authoritative voice playing down public health dangers from atomic energy. Further, it provided a vehicle for countries to stay engaged in atomic energy affairs even if they did not sign on to the non-proliferation treaty—India, Pakistan, and Israel most notably. It provided apartheid-era South Africa with a means of participating in international affairs when other bodies ousted it because of its blatantly racist policies. By the same token, it gave the Americans and Europeans political cover for continuing to engage with South Africa, an important uranium supplier.

Introduction to The Wretched Atom, Jacob Hamlin

[whencyclopedia]

Custer's Account of the Battle of Washita River

My Life on the Plains or Personal Experiences with Indians (1874) is a full-length narrative by George Armstrong Custer (l. 1839-1876) of his time out west from 1867-1874. The work includes his observations on Native Americans and accounts of the military campaigns he participated in, including the Battle of the Washita/Washita Massacre of 27 November 1868.

Lt. Colonel George Armstrong Custer by Mora

José María Mora (CC BY-NC-SA)

Custer was under orders from General Philip Sheridan (l. 1831-1888) to wage 'total war' against the 'hostiles' of the Plains Indians who refused to surrender their land and move onto reservations, and this entailed killing warriors in battle, hanging males, capturing women and children to hold as hostages, and destroying villages, horses, ponies, and food supplies. The Southern Cheyenne chief Black Kettle (l. c. 1803-1868) had made it clear he sought peace – and was in no way aligned with any 'hostiles' – since 1851 and had signed every peace treaty presented to the Cheyenne by the US government between that year and 1867.

In November 1868, Black Kettle appealed to US authorities to allow him and his people to move to a position of safety near Fort Cobb where they would not be mistaken for 'hostiles', but his request was denied, and he returned to his village on the Washita River in modern-day Oklahoma near the winter encampments of many other Native American nations. Custer was tracking Native American raiding parties when he found Black Kettle's camp – which was further west and somewhat removed from the other villages.

Assuming this camp to be the home of the raiders he was looking for, Custer attacked at dawn on 27 November 1868, killing between 60 and 150 Cheyenne and Arapaho, mainly women, children, the elderly, and infirm or injured. Custer then took 53 women and children prisoner and returned to his base of operations at Camp Supply. His account established the event as a 'battle' but, by January 1869, after other versions of the event had come to light, it was being referred to as a massacre.

Custer's Account

Custer's initial report to Sheridan claimed he had killed 103 warriors, but, when he and Sheridan returned to the site in December 1868, the body count was considerably higher, and the dead were clearly not all warriors. Most of the Cheyenne men were not in camp that morning as they were out hunting or visiting friends and family in the camps downriver. The men who were in camp defended their homes and families from Custer's attack, most likely in the way he describes below, but, contrary to his claims in his initial report and later, there was no large band of 'hostiles' in the camp, and the raiders he had been tracking probably belonged to one of the villages downstream.

Still, his 1868 report, on which the following account is based, established the event as the Battle of the Washita, and even after that interpretation was challenged in 1869, Custer and his supporters continued to insist he had followed the tracks of raiders to Black Kettle's camp and was obeying orders in attacking a hostile stronghold. Native American survivors of the Washita event described it as a massacre, and a letter written by Captain Frederick Benteen (l. 1834-1898), who commanded troops under Custer at the event, strongly suggests the same.

The version of events that appears in Custer's book presents the engagement as a battle between evenly matched forces, and, as Custer attained legendary status after his death at the Battle of the Little Bighorn in 1876, this version of the event gained greater acceptance, and the 1869 challenges to it were forgotten. These objections to the 'battle' interpretation were revived in the mid-20th century, however, and the debate over whether the Washita River event was a battle or a massacre continues today.

The Attack on Black Kettle's Cheyenne Camp

Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper (Public Domain)

Continue reading...

[mariacallous]

The advice I used to impart to young correspondents arriving at the BBC’s bureau in Washington was to remember that the United States had fought a civil war in the mid-19th century and was still arguing over the terms of a fractious peace.

Much like the modern-day phrase “sorry but not sorry,” which is used sarcastically to indicate a lack of remorse, the brief ceremony at Virginia’s Appomattox Court House in April 1865, which brought the armed fighting to an end, was a surrender but not a surrender. White supremacists in the states of the old Confederacy wanted still to reign supreme. Little over a decade later, following the collapse of Reconstruction—an attempt to make good for African Americans the promise of emancipation—enslavement was replaced by segregation. Across the American South, Jim Crow was in the chair.

Now, though, I would amend my advice. I would urge young reporters to reach back even further into history. The roots of modern-day polarization, and even the origins of former President Donald Trump, can be located in the country’s troubled birth. Division has always been the default setting. Victory over the British Redcoats at the Battle of Yorktown paved the way for independence but did not mean U.S. nationhood was a given.

Between the end of the Revolutionary War in 1783 and the start of the Philadelphia Constitutional Convention in 1787, it seemed as if the states might enter into two or three confederations rather than a singular nation as the former British colonies struggled to overcome their antagonisms. ���No morn ever dawned more favourable than ours did,” a melancholic George Washington wrote to James Madison in November 1786, “and no day was ever more clouded than the present!”

The Constitution that Washington pushed for, and which was eventually hammered out in Philadelphia, was in many ways an agreement to keep on disagreeing. Compromises that prolonged and protected the institution of slavery—a Faustian bargain that became the price of national unity—created a fault line that was always likely to rupture and explode. It rumbles to this day. Even a Black presidency could not repair the breach.

So many contemporary problems can be traced back to those founding days. U.S. democracy has become so diseased because for most of the country’s history, it has not been that healthy. “We the People,” the rousing words that opened the preamble to the Constitution, was not conceived of as an inclusive statement or catchall for mass democracy. Rather, this ill-defined term referred to what in modern terminology might be called the body politic. Much of the deliberations in Philadelphia focused on how that body politic should be restrained in an intricately designed straitjacket, hence the creation of countermajoritarian mechanisms such as the Electoral College and Senate.

To describe the outcome as an experiment in “democracy” is misleading: The Founding Fathers did not care for the word, which is nowhere to be found either in the Declaration of Independence or the Constitution. When the country’s second president, John Adams, used the term “democratical,” it was intended as a slur. The fear of what some of the founders called an “excess of democracy” explains the thinking behind a quote from Adams that has resurfaced during the Trump years: “Remember, democracy never lasts long. It soon wastes, exhausts, and murders itself. There never was a democracy yet that did not commit suicide.” Adams’s fear was not of unchecked presidential power, the meaning projected onto the quote in relation to Trump. More worrying for him was unchecked people power.

The right to vote was never specifically enshrined in the Constitution, an omission that continues to astound many Americans. To this day, there is no positive affirmation of the right to vote. It is framed negatively—it should not be denied, rather than it should be granted. With good reason, voting is often called the missing right.

Not until the mid-1960s, with the passage of the 1965 Voting Rights Act, did the United States finally achieve what could truly be described as universal suffrage. In the South, Black people could finally cast ballots without being subjected to humiliating “literacy tests,” where they would be asked unanswerable questions such as how to interpret arcane clauses of state constitutions.

No sooner had this landmark legislation become law, however, than efforts to reverse it cranked into gear. So began what has turned out to be a decades-long campaign of de-democratization. It was spearheaded by the Republican Party, which needed to restrict minority voting rights because the demographic trend lines, and the transition toward a minority-majority nation, were thought to favor the Democrats.

These efforts were aided to a disconcerting degree by the conservative-dominated Supreme Court, with rulings that drastically weakened the provisions of the Voting Rights Act. For example, in 2013, Shelby County v. Holder gutted the act’s all-important Section 5, which forced jurisdictions with a history of racial discrimination to “preclear” with the Justice Department any proposed voting changes. In a 5-4 judgment, the conservative justices decided that preclearance was now obsolete because voter registration had shown such dramatic improvements. Yet as the liberal justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg pointed out in an unusually strong dissenting opinion, ending preclearance was akin to “throwing away your umbrella in a rainstorm because you are not getting wet.”

The insurrection on Jan. 6, 2021, then, should not be seen in isolation. It was the culmination of a prolonged assault on democracy that predated the rise of Trump. The attack continued, moreover, after the insurrectionists had been dispersed and the floors of Congress scrubbed clean of excrement. That night, 147 Republicans returned to the chambers to cast votes to challenge or overturn Joe Biden’s presidential victory.

Political violence is a core part of the U.S. story, although much of this history has often been buried and concealed. At the end of the 1960s, a commission appointed by President Lyndon B. Johnson to investigate why the United States was so prone to political assassination concluded that the country suffered from “a kind of historical amnesia or selective recollection that masks unpleasant traumas of the past.” It also noted that “the revolutionary doctrine that our Declaration of Independence proudly proclaims is mistakenly cited as a model for legitimate violence.”

Indeed, the Jan. 6 insurrection showed how political violence is still seen as legitimate and even rendered glorious. Many of the insurrectionists chanted “1776” as they stormed the Capitol. “We’re walking down the same exact path as the Founding Fathers,” claimed Stewart Rhodes, a former Army paratrooper with a Yale University law degree. (Rhodes helped establish the Oath Keepers, a militia group launched on April 19, 2009, the anniversary of when rebels and Redcoats first exchanged fire.) The day before the insurrection, Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene described it as “our 1776 moment.”

Many far-right extremists are inspired by words from Thomas Jefferson that, unlike the poetry of his Declaration of Independence, never made it into high school textbooks or onto the teleprompters of modern-day presidents. “I hold it that a little rebellion now and then is a good thing, and as necessary in the political world as storms in the physical,” Jefferson wrote in 1787, a quote that has now become a far-right meme. “The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots” is another of Jefferson’s sayings that has been co-opted by modern-day militias.

Often I recall the day of Biden’s inauguration, which took place on a platform that only two weeks earlier had been used as a staging post for the insurrection. It was festooned with red, white, and blue bunting, but it still felt like a crime scene that should have been sequestered with yellow tape. As I made my way to my camera position on the press stand, I noticed that technicians were testing the giant teleprompter in front of the presidential podium. And I recognized the words on the screen: “Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure.”

The teleprompter had been loaded with the 272 words of Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address in November 1863. Maybe it was some kind of sick joke. A rogue technician, perhaps, with a dark sense of humor. But these passages from the country’s most celebrated sermon could hardly be described as out of place. The question at the heart of the speech, and which had also been posed at the country’s founding, was being asked anew: Can this nation long endure?

My sense—my ardent hope—is that the conditions do not yet exist for all-out armed conflict, a second civil war, partly because the United States has accumulated so much muscle memory in coping with its perpetual state of division. But nor do the conditions exist for reconciliation and rapprochement. Nowhere near. So the United States occupies a strange betwixt and between: close to abyss, but a step or two back from the edge. Going to hell, as the wit Andy Rooney once observed, without ever getting there.

The U.S. historian Richard Hofstadter, famed for identifying what he called the “paranoid style in American politics,” put it well: “The nation seems to slouch onward into its uncertain future like some huge inarticulate beast, too much attainted by wounds and ailments to be robust, but too strong and resourceful to succumb.” The fact that Hofstadter published those words at the start of the 1970s speaks to how the United States remains stuck in a rut—revisiting the same arguments, going over the same ground. Americans remain tethered to their contested past. The news cycle is the historical cycle in microcosm. As Lincoln put it in his message to Congress in December 1862: “We cannot escape history.”

So even if the United States does not descend into civil war, it is hard to envision it ever reaching a state of civil peace. The forever war will continue: America’s unending conflict with itself.

[youryurigoddess]

A. Z. Fell & Co. bookshop and its statues, part 2

Welcome to the second part of my insane deep dive into Aziraphale’s world of slightly outdated decor, golden-colored trinkets, and their ostentatiously Greek (especially for a representative of an originally Judeo-Christian mythology) symbolism. As a short recap, the last installment covered six pieces in the northern and central sections of the bookshop plus a plot-important medal previously displayed on one of them, but currently left with the other bibelots on the bookseller’s desk. We’ll start right there, where we previously left off.

While a lot of the bookshop action plays out in the circle between the formerly discussed statues, its office part is especially close to Aziraphale himself. As the titular Guardian of the Eastern Gate, the angel consciously spends most of his time in this small space in the Eastern part of the bookshop, confined to his desk or reading stand. This means that the decorations of this area have more personal significance and are most probably used as daily reminders for him to keep his thoughts and priorities on track as much as provide pleasant distraction from the weary eyes.

The two windowsill figures of the Art Deco dancers from S1 were replaced by a somewhat similar set of twin statues by Ernest Rancoulet called Retour des Bois (Return from the Woods). Depicting a young woman accompanied by a putto, Aphrodite and Eros, frolicking in a dance through the woods and meadows. This bucolic fantasy with Aphrodite makes some sense when we consider how Aziraphale’s personal love story started (and will presumably end) in a garden, but let’s deep deeper into its protagonists. Or protagonist, actually, because what else can be told about Love itself?

Eros as the god of Desire is usually presented in art as a handsome young man, though in some appearances he is a boy full of mischief, ever in the company of his mother. It is usually under the guidance of Aphrodite when he employs his signature bow and arrows to make mortals and immortals alike to fall in love. His role in myths is mostly complementary, as a catalyst for other mythological figures and their stories, with the notable exception being the myth of Eros and Psyche, the story of how he met and fell in love with his wife.

In short, they are the original star-crossed lovers from entirely separate worlds who meet and fall in love by divine happenstance, only to be separated by Psyche’s family. Convinced by her sisters that her husband is, in fact, a vile winged serpent, Psyche breaks his one rule and the attempt to kill the monster leads her to falling in passionate love with him. Eros flees and Psyche wanders the Earth searching for him and succumbing to a series of impossible tasks reminding of those from the Scarborough Fair ballad or the more modern fairytale about Cinderella. She ultimately fails, but is saved by the healed Eros, granted immortality and the status of his equal, after which they can properly marry with a huge wedding banquet, a real feast of the gods.

In the Christian Middle Ages, the union of Eros and Psyche started to symbolize the temptation and fall of the human soul, driven by the sexual curiosity and lust from the Love’s domain, mirroring the original sin and the expulsion from Eden.

Oh, and their Latin names? Cupid and Anima. C+A.

We’ll get back to them in a minute.

According to unnecessary but extensive research, the two mid-century table lamps standing over the desk were most probably produced in France after another unspecified 19th century sculptor like the example above, although this particular putti design can be also found in the so called Hollywood regency style of the same time period. The putto is holding onto a cornucopia, a classical antiquity symbol of plenty, which then continues to the bulb section.

The cornucopia is an easily recognizable symbol of abundance, fertility and, to lesser extant, peace and good fortune. Since the horn is phallic-shaped, but hollow at the same time, it combines intimate imagery of both male and female character at the same time, which further ties into notions of fertility. In its role as a fertility symbol, the cornucopia is also usually associated with Demeter, whose small statue is also standing on the bookshop’s counter. Which seems like a recurring theme.

I saw multiple theories about Aziraphale’s centerpiece, but somehow the truth proved to be much less significant than previously thought. This roman soldier, possibly a centurion, driving his two horses in a highly decorated chariot is made from a marble powder resin composite and takes the most visible place in the Eastern part of the bookshop even though it’s seemingly one of the newest additions to Aziraphale’s collection — its author, Lorenzo Toni, was born in 1938 and became a sculpture master by the 1970s. 

At first glance, the parallel to the Marly Horses seems obvious and we could leave it basically at what was written recently on Crowley and Aziraphale’s dynamics. But here is where instead of commenting on the antique sculpture that seems to be the inspiration behind this piece or the many intricacies of Roman chariot racing I’ll do something completely unhinged — i.e., play my Greek philosophy card.

In the dialogue "Phaedrus ”, Plato presents the allegory of the chariot to explain the tripartite nature of the human soul or — you guessed it — psyche. The charioteer is the man’s Reason, the rational part that loves truth and knowledge, which should rule over the other parts of the soul through the use of logic. One of the horses, the white one, is man’s Spirit, a motivated part which seeks glory, honor, recognition and victory. The second horse, the black one, represents man’s Appetite — an ever so hungry part which desires food, drink, material wealth and physical intimacy.

And the fun part? This triad is established to analyze the madness of love. In a classical Greek context, that is not between a man and a woman, but erastes and eromenos:

The charioteer is filled with warmth and desire as he gazes into the eyes of the one he loves. The good horse is controlled by its sense of shame, but the bad horse, overcome with desire, does everything it can to go up to the boy and suggest to it the pleasures of sex. The bad horse eventually wears out its charioteer and partner, and drags them towards the boy; yet when the charioteer looks into the boy's face, his memory is carried back to the sight of the forms of beauty and self-control he had with the gods, and pulls back violently on the reins. As this occurs over and over, the bad horse eventually becomes obedient and finally dies of fright when seeing the boy's face, allowing the lover's soul to follow the boy in reverence and awe. The lover now pursues the boy. As he gets closer to his quarry, and the love is reciprocated, the opportunity for sexual contact again presents itself. If the lover and beloved surpass this desire they have won the "true Olympic Contests"; it is the perfect combination of human self-control and divine madness, and after death, their souls return to heaven.

And such a perfect combination of the motifs already introduced to us by the two Eros statues and the Head of the Victorious Athlete.

Aziraphale might be a titular Companion to Owls (or, to be precise, the companion to one particular Nite Owl), but he had also made sure to have at least one owl keeping him company. And of course, the owl of Athena (who was interestingly both a bird and a snake goddess) is an absolutely conclusion here as the universal symbol of wisdom and knowledge in the Western culture, but it can’t be that easy, right?

In the Bible, you'll find that owls often symbolize something unclean and forbidden, as well as desolation, loneliness, and destruction. This symbolic significance is pointed out in Leviticus 11:16-17 and Deuteronomy 14:11-17 where owls are mentioned among the birds not to be eaten. Owls were considered unclean most likely because they are predatory creatures who eat raw flesh with the blood still in it, and that was an even bigger food safety concern for the biblical nomads than to us today.

Owls are also among the wild predators that have long dwelled in the desert lands and abandoned ruins of Egypt and the Holy Land. Both Isaiah and Zephaniah speak of owls nesting in ruined wastelands to paint symbolic images of barrenness, emptiness, and utter desolation. In Psalm 102:3–6, the owl symbolizes the loneliness of the psalmist’s tortured heart:

For my days vanish like smoke; my bones burn like glowing embers. My heart is blighted and withered like grass; I forget to eat my food. In my distress I groan aloud and am reduced to skin and bones. I am like a desert owl, like an owl among the ruins. I lie awake; I have become like a bird alone on a roof. All day long my enemies taunt me; those who rail against me use my name as a curse. For I eat ashes as my food and mingle my drink with tears because of your great wrath, for you have taken me up and thrown me aside. My days are like the evening shadow; I wither away like grass. But you, Lord, sit enthroned forever; your renown endures through all generations.

It’s a devastating, but still beautiful piece that deals with the feeling of utter rejection, the ultimate bad breakup of the relationship between a human and their God. And this… simply didn’t happen between God and Aziraphale, not even during his Job job. The angel had always considered Her love and ineffability as a given, even when the whole Heavenly Host was against him during the Non-Apocalypse. His allegiance stayed with God, not necessarily Her angels. Which brings us yet again to the motion of Crowley as the owl.

The angel and the demon are the companions to each other's loneliness, but Aziraphale’s needs seem significantly bigger than their Arrangement that he even considered a wooden substitute protectively hovering over him 24/7. He seems to be the one who is the loneliest and most rejected.

Oh, and if you think that putting a small bronze statue of a putto with a bronze putto-shaped candleholder right behind it (visible on the filing cabinet in the bottom right corner) is already a stretch, let me show you what’s on the other side of that wall.

Just like before the bookshop fire, the famous sink in the small backroom is adorned with a perfectly kitschy white plaster sculpture of The Two Cherubs, a small part of a larger painting by Raphael (the painter, not the Archangel) titled Sistine Madonna. In the painting the Madonna, holding Christ Child and flanked by Saint Sixtus and Saint Barbara, stands on clouds before dozens of obscured putti, while two distinctive winged putti rest on their elbows beneath her. with bombastic side eyes and clearly unspoken, but very controversial thoughts about the whole scene and their role in it.

With an attitude like that, there’s no wonder that the putti have inspired some legends. According to one, the original cherubs were children of one of his models they would come in to watch. Struck by their posture, he added them to the painting exactly as he saw them. Another story says that Raphael was inspired by two street urchins looking wistfully into the window of a baker's shop.

The Germans implicitly tied this painting into a legend of their own, "Raphael's Dream." Arising in the last decades of the 18th century, the legend — which made its way into a number of stories and even a play — presents Raphael as receiving a heavenly vision that enabled him to present his divine Madonna. It is claimed the painting has stirred many viewers, and that at the sight of the canvas some were transfixed to a state of religious ecstasy akin to Stendhal Syndrome (including one of Freud's patients).

Their big, seemingly cherubic companion doesn’t seem to have a specific provenance, but what’s left of his limbs might suggest that it could be an infant Jesus as well as another putto. But honestly who knows at this point.

On the other side of the same room, right at the door leading to the big backroom, there are two lamps with Auguste Moreau’s Young Lovers, a bronze sculpture depicting a courting couple on the verge of a physical embrace, holding garlands of roses and hiding under some old vines. Which aligns perfectly with the beloved romcom trope of a rain shelter leading to sudden love realizations, as well as Crowley choosing this part of the bookshop to have a word with his angel in private and then offering his advice on anything related to human love. No wonder that the angel looked at him like that.

This statue carries with it more than one allegorical interpretation, intentional or not. Arguably the most obvious one is the myth of Eros and Psyche, one we already covered in this post. But similarly to his earlier sculpture, Eros also serves here as an allegory for nature and the return to the natural state itself. Like Adam in Eden, he's unclothed and symbolically crowned as a ruler of his domain. Psyche, enamored with his confidence, is about to take her own leap of faith as her fabric restraints fall away. One could say that she's tempted to follow him into nature, deep into the garden of love.

And with that exact thought I will leave you today, dear reader. Through this analysis we learnt many things, among them two significant facts about Aziraphale: firstly, he’s an utter and incorrigible romantic, and secondly, a hoarder. Forget Crowley’s souvenirs — the amount of this angel’s statues is something else. And it isn’t even his hyperfixation!

[thefrogdalorian]

The Best of Both Worlds - Chapter Seven

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

❁ Series Masterlist ❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Word Count:  9456 Rating: General Summary: Despite feeling certain that you'll never see the ridiculously handsome man you gave a tour of the museum to, a special delivery is about to change everything... Content Warnings: Brief description of anxiety, reader feels a bit anxious in a crowded area. Author's Note: Big thanks once again to my amazing beta @suresnips!! I appreciate your feedback so much 💕  The slow burn is certainly slow burning. When I started posting this I was wondering whether I should tag it as slowburn which is ridiculous because 54k words in and they're still like THIS AUGHBSGJD just KISS you idiots! Anyway, really hope you enjoyed this one. I had a blast writing it. This is the last chapter I'd edited while writing, so updates might slow down a bit to once (but hopefully twice) per week now. Thanks for reading, I'd love to know if you're enjoying it so far!!

6. You're The Sunflower [Reader's POV]

You were under no illusions that the odds of seeing Din again were slim to none, but no matter how hard you tried, you had not been able to stop thinking about him. Ever since you had given him a tour of the museum on Friday night, you had been unable to shake the memory of how incredible you had felt in his presence. Of course, you were instantly attracted to him and felt the spark when the two of you shook hands. Plus, there was that look on his face when he referred to the beauty of the exhibits as he gazed at you. You had been unable to get the way his eyes had softened as he looked at you from your mind, no matter how hard you tried.

Work brought you no relief. Everywhere you went, you were reminded of him. Any time you had to leave your office work behind to face the public, you were barely able to focus on giving the various groups that you had been entrusted with a proper tour. You kept looking out for the patient brown eyes and dark curls that had left an imprint on your mind after such a short amount of time. Several times your heart leapt when you thought you saw a man with just the right physique and height, with similar brown curls. But then his head would turn and your hopes would be dashed. Unfortunately, there were so many visitors to the museum each day that these moments were all too frequent, delivering a crushing blow each time. 

It was ridiculous, pining over Din and looking out for him like this. You were under no illusions to the fact that you would never see him again. The time you had spent together that evening as you gave him a tour of the museum was lovely. In another life, perhaps the two of you would have been able to explore the genuine connection. But in this life: this was it. Your paths were never going to cross again. It was utterly ridiculous to think otherwise, no matter how much you ached to see him again. You just had a little crush on an attractive older guy. You would forget about him before too long.

Fortunately, today you had no tours scheduled. You were tasked with cataloguing some of the museum’s extensive archival collection. Specifically, seventh-century Chinese pottery. Although sometimes you found such work dull, you appreciated that everything had an order to it and a system to be filed under. Once it was completed, it would be incredibly satisfying. So you had thrown yourself into such work, partly borne out of a desire to see it completed but mostly, if you were honest, to distract yourself from the kind brown eyes of a man you would never see again.

The task was going well and you were making storming progress, especially considering that it was only mid-morning. That was until the familiar presence of your manager, Julie, entered the office and disturbed your peace. The sound of a heavy object being placed on the desk with a thud, caused you to look up.

It was perhaps the biggest bunch of flowers you had ever seen, in an ornate vase with stunning patterns running the length of the glass. You could tell, just by looking at it, that it was a luxurious bouquet that had presumably set back whoever bought it several hundred pounds. Your heart skipped a beat. There was no way these could be for you.

When your racing mind finally focused on the flowers, your jaw dropped as you realised exactly what they were. With their tall, green stems and bright yellow petals, they were unmistakably sunflowers. 

As you sat there, aghast at the beautiful bouquet before you, Julie finally offered an explanation: “These came in from a flower shop this morning. The delivery guy said your name. I have no idea who they’re from and trust me, I had quite a battle to get them through security. Luckily a guy called Mo vouched for you. Maybe the card makes sense to you.” Julie said, winking at you as she walked away, leaving you sitting there at your desk, mouth hanging open.

Surely it couldn’t be… from him?

You noticed the little golden card nestled in amongst the sunflowers, with trembling hands you brought it towards your face so that you could see who the flowers were from. On it, the neat black handwriting read:

Let’s show the kid a real rhino. Meet me at the gates of London Zoo.

Saturday, 11:30 am.

– D 

When you saw the single letter at the bottom of the card, you almost fell backwards off your chair onto the hard wooden floor below. It was from him. You felt your skin warming furiously as you read the message. Then, you read it again to make sure that you weren't dreaming. This surely had to be a joke, right?! An elaborate scheme to poke fun at you. 

But that was ridiculous, apart from Ria, who was in a different country, and Mo, who had no idea of your affection for Din, no one had any idea that the two of you had interacted. Plus, given the evident expense of such flowers, it was unlikely someone would squander such an enormous sum on playing a prank. So with all possibilities of a prank ruled out… you finally allowed yourself to believe that this was real. That Din wanted to see you again as much as you wanted to see him. He had felt the spark too and now the two of you would meet again in just a few days. 

You were in complete and utter disbelief that this was real. That there was a possibility that Din felt the same way about you. That, he too, held that same curiosity towards you; that pull that made you want to get to know him better. How, though, could someone like him possibly feel this way about someone like… you?

Julie inched back into the room, clearly having kept her distance from you to allow you to process the flowers and the note. You suddenly panicked and wondered whether she had read the note, and was coming back here to reprimand you for using your job to potentially start a relationship with a visitor. You reasoned that even if she had read the note, Din had left it deliberately vague with just his initial. She would never guess it was the man you had shown around this very museum only a few days previously. 

“I won’t pry,” Julie said with a smile on her face. “But whoever sent those must really care about you.”

You let out a deep sigh of relief. Julie’s demeanour proved that she was anything but mad at you. Fortunately, you and Julie had always gotten along. Unlike some of the other managers at the museum who would have hit the roof if one of their employees had been delivered such a bouquet in the middle of the day, she had been nothing kind to you. She was a couple of decades older than you and she reminded you of a family friend from your childhood. You had leant on her for advice when you had first moved to the big city.

“I think so.” You squeaked, feeling your skin burning up in embarrassment.

“Well, I’m happy for you,” Julie said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I wish nothing but the best for you. If you want to take your lunch slightly earlier and head off now, you’re welcome to.”

“Thanks, Julie.” You said appreciatively.

Budget cuts and constraints meant that sometimes the museum was understaffed and you were overworked, but Julie was always firm yet fair on the staff. She was great at getting the best out of her employees, she knew who needed to be micromanaged and who could work just as productively while being left to their own devices. You fell firmly in the second category, much preferring to be left to your own thing. And now, Julie could sense that the arrival of a large bouquet and card would send your productivity levels plunging unless you got to take yourself off and have some time to process it.

Your phone was in your hand before you had even left the museum, you were rapidly firing off texts to Ria. It would be early morning for her, but you knew she should be awake for classes and you hoped she was there to help cease the trembling in your body that had overcome you since the arrival of the flowers on your desk.

[ilovemando] 11:37: RIAAAAA!!!!! remember din, the hot guy i showed around the museum with his son?? He fucking sent a bouquet of SUNFLOWERS to my work and said to meet him on saturday at the gates of the zoo i told him about and recommended him to visit with his kid???

[thisistheslay] 11:40: OMG WHAT!?!? FLOWERS TO YOUR DESK!!! THIS SOUNDS LIKE SOMETHING FROM A FANFIC I CAN’T BREATHE????

[ilovemando] 11:42 I KNOW. i was sure it was just my colleague pranking me but no, my manager confirmed it was hand-delivered by a flower shop this morning. and not any flower shop either, this one is like insanely london fancy. i’m just a peasant. i can’t believe this….. this kind of thing doesn’t happen to me!!

[thisistheslay] 11:45: Well, looks like it is happening to you, bestie. I’m so happy for you. What were the flowers like?

[ilovemando] 11:47: he got me sunflowers :’) after i told him van gogh was my favourite painter and i loved that piece. i can’t fucking breathe, honestly. my manager let me get lunch early and i have no idea how i’m going to eat let alone FUNCTION until saturday omg help me

[ilovemando] 11:50: but the thing is idk if it’s a date bc his kid is coming??? ahhhhh i dont wanna assume too much, maybe he just wants to be friends

You placed your phone back in your pocket as you found a place to sit in the park. Since the amount of money you had splurged on Mando merch at ForceCon, you had been forcing yourself to bring packed lunches to work in a bid to save money. It had mostly worked and you found that as the weather was improving, there was no greater delight than sitting outside in the park next to the museum and enjoying your lunch as you watched the world go by.

Once you had found an available bench, conveniently located underneath the tall trees that lined the edge of the park which partially protected you from the sun that was beating down as midday approached, you took your phone out and were relieved to see Ria had immediately texted you back. Your head had been swimming with possibilities over whether Din also viewed this as a date and you were eager to get a rational, outsider’s perspective. 

[thisistheslay] 11:53: I mean, if a guy was sending a fancy bouquet of sunflowers to MY desk, I would absolutely take that romantically. Maybe he just can’t leave his kid with someone and that’s why he’s coming, I wouldn’t take that as a bad thing necessarily.

You read Ria’s message and felt your stomach flutter with butterflies once again as she reminded you of what had just happened. Din had sent you flowers. At your desk. Not just any flowers, either. Flowers that were in a piece of art you adored, that your favourite painter had created. Din had remembered that little detail about you, despite you only mentioning it in passing. 

You shook your head and placed your phone in your pocket. You’d reply to Ria later. For now, you needed to eat your lunch and collect your thoughts so you could regain your composure and make progress on the task that you needed to complete at work that afternoon. 

When you returned to work after your lunch break, however, you found that it was a struggle to focus on carrying out important archival research when an insanely hot older guy that you had an enormous crush on had indicated that he wanted to see you again. Not only did he want to see you again, but he had enlisted a fancy London florist to deliver your favourite flowers, a detail that he had remembered from a brief comment, no less. It was probably the most romantic thing anyone had done for you, which was not exactly difficult. There had been a sad lack of romance in your life over recent years, aside from the Mando fanfics you had consumed each night before bed. Traditional books had fallen somewhat by the wayside when you were at University, but you found that you still had a voracious appetite for reading. Especially when it came to consuming stories where you were the object of Mando’s affections.

Work kept you so busy that you found yourself quite content to be single as it meant that your downtime was yours and yours alone. Plus, adjusting to living in a new city – especially a city as massive as London – had already been difficult enough, without introducing romance into that. Yet it appeared that when you had least been looking for it, a potential love story had fallen right into your lap. It was quite remarkable timing.

Your state of mind did not improve over the next few days. It was a struggle to maintain your composure for the rest of the week and focus on your tasks. Luckily, you had been moved to have a less public-facing role as you stayed behind the scenes in the offices, working on the extensive archives. Luckily, Julie had known exactly how to deal with the situation and had understood, perhaps even before you, that you were in no position to face visitors when your thoughts lay firmly elsewhere. 

Mercifully, with the help of some colleagues and a little bit of overtime, you completed the project on Friday afternoon, as planned. The relief and sense of achievement were immense, it had been no small undertaking to catalogue seventh-century Chinese pottery pretty much all on your own. You practically galloped out of work, excited for the weekend that lay ahead and in particular, to see Din again.

Despite your eagerness to leave work, you still took your time heading home, stopping for noodles at your favourite noodle shop on the way. You timed it just right so that you missed the main rush of commuters who were leaving London to return home and everyone else who was coming into London for a night out. You had had your fun in clubs and bars in the past, but you always felt ancient watching people heading for their nights out in skimpy clothes. There were a few of them, swigging from cans on the platform and laughing and chattering so loudly that you turned your headphones up to their maximum volume.

You did not begrudge them having a good time, but to you, it all just looked so uncomfortable. Rather than wearing uncomfortable clothing and cramming into overpriced bars to listen to awful music, you wanted to go home and sloth out on the couch in front of an episode of Mando. Although you had barely finished your last rewatch, you had just started another one. Despite how occupied your mind had been recently, it felt wrong somehow to not have a Mandalorian rewatch ongoing.

Lounging around on the couch in front of The Mandalorian was precisely how you spent your Friday night. With your comfortable pyjamas and facemask on, you felt somewhat relaxed, despite the churning that would commence in your stomach every time you thought about the prospect of seeing Din again tomorrow.

Although you were excited, you were also incredibly nervous. You wanted to make a good impression and hoped that the chemistry that had been there during the tour carried over to your day out at the zoo. But there were so many things to consider, questions to ask yourself about the whole situation. You found yourself dwelling on whether he viewed this as a date. You knew that you certainly wanted it to be one and sending such an extravagent bouquet probably indicated that there was at least some romantic intention there. But perhaps Din viewed going to the zoo to show Grogu a rhino as a purely platonic outing. You remained unsure of how to take it.

In addition, you were agonising over what to wear. You had triple, no quadruple checked your outfit for the zoo day out with Din. You fretted over how to style your hair, sending several shots to the groupchat to ask for their advice. As much as the groupchat had been helpful, you wished they had been physically present. There was just something about having people close that you couldn’t replicate online. Facetime and voice chats were helpful but you wished you had Ria by your side on the couch, giggling over the stupid goo facemasks you were slapping on your faces as you watched another episode of Mando. But Ria, and the rest of your friends, were thousands of miles away. You were all alone. Well, except for Mando, of course.

After finishing a steaming cup of your favourite herbal tea, you eventually turned in before midnight as you wanted to get up early to give yourself plenty of time. You were probably going to end up being at the zoo ridiculously early, but under no circumstances did you want to leave Din hanging, especially considering that you did not have his number. All you had was a time and a place to be. You were going to be there.

Despite how exhausting your week had been, sleep did not come easily. You tossed and turned, thinking about what tomorrow would bring. It was quite a turnaround of events, to go from believing that you would never see someone again to being only hours from facing them again. Nerves and excitement bubbled away in your stomach as you lay there, picturing the kind brown eyes and that crooked smile that you knew you were only hours away from seeing again…

The familiar tones of The Mandalorian’s theme song roused you from sleep at eight the following morning. You were a bundle of nerves and excitement, feeling as though your skin was tingling all over. As you lay there and slowly blinked your tired eyes open, you found yourself grinning from ear to ear as you remembered that you were awake so early on the weekend because the man whom you were incredibly attracted to wanted to see you again.

You knew there had been an undeniable spark between you and Din that evening at the museum. But you had doubted yourself and eventually convinced yourself that you were being delusional. How could he ever be interested in you? Din was just a polite, kind man, nothing more. How wrong you had been. Now, you were getting yourself ready to see him again.

Well, getting ready was yet to happen. First, you had to watch an episode of Mando as you ate your breakfast. It was a crutch you leaned on during times of great stress. If there was a big life event taking place, chances were that you had watched an episode of The Mandalorian at some point in the build-up to it. People leaned on all kinds of things, it just happened that yours was a sci-fi show that brought you an immense amount of joy. You might have been a little embarrassed about relying on it so heavily but, ultimately, you weren’t hurting anyone else with your hobby. You were proud that Mando had helped you through so much.

With your episode and breakfast finished, it was time to get ready. You had already agonised over the outfit for hours last night. However, in the early morning light, you doubted whether you looked good enough. You wanted to be comfortable considering how much walking you were sure to do, while also making an effort to impress Din. You ended up swapping out the skirt you had planned to wear for a pair of black and white striped cotton pants that were wide-legged enough to be cool in the summer. As you left your flat and headed to the station to make your way into London, you were glad for your last-minute outfit change. The thought of getting onto a busy transport network with all the grime and dirt of fellow passengers while wearing a skirt felt disgusting, somehow.

It was Saturday morning on the tube and mercifully, it wasn’t too busy. You were well accustomed to most routes by now and could use the tube with your eyes closed, if necessary. Today, however, you were so nervous that you felt yourself second-guessing your every move. Doubting whether you were heading in the right direction or on the right line and whether your tube would arrive at the zoo in time.

Fortunately, you remembered to bring your headphones, so you at least had the Mando soundtrack to keep you company. For a few minutes on the tube, you weren’t on an underground system hurtling underneath the streets of London at all. No, you were on a hyperloop pod on Coruscant, zooming along with Mando like you had seen him do several times in the show in pursuit of his most recent bounty. 

As strange as it probably sounded to anyone who did not love the show as much as you did, when you listened to the music you felt as though some of Mando’s certainty in himself and the confident way he carried himself was somehow being transferred to you. You loved Mando for many reasons, but one of them was how much you looked up to him and admired him as a person. He had many characteristics that you only wished you could possess yourself. You truly felt as though he was someone you aspired to be, even if he was fictional. 

You were so caught up in your fantasies, that you almost missed your stop. But fortunately, you realised in time and scrambled for the door. You glanced down at your watch and realised that you were pretty early, it was not even eleven yet. So, you decided to grab a coffee just outside the tube station so you wouldn’t be standing there at the zoo, looking like a little lost puppy. Plus, weren’t you meant to be fashionably late to dates? Or whatever this was? Wasn’t that a thing people did? 

The coffee shop you selected was a bit pretentious and hipster for your taste. You had no desire to order an oat milk two pump caramel chai latte macchiato or whatever it was that people who used a lot of beard cream ordered. So you just settled on a regular cappuccino, which came with a slightly judgmental look from the barista. With your order in hand, you settled down on a comfortable seat by the window in the corner of the shop and took out your phone, firing off a message to Ria.

[ilovemando] 10:49 - ik ur probably asleep now but i’m about to go to the date with din and im so nervous aaah. he’s so hot and i feel like im going to make a massive idiot out of myself. currently drowning myself in coffee. not sure it’ll help my nerves. text me when you wake up!!

Of course, Ria didn’t respond straight away. It was not even six for her and you gathered she was asleep like any normal human would be on a Saturday. With no internet friend to calm your nerves, you instead decided to pass the time by watching the people of London pass by your window. Usually, on a Saturday morning like this, you would be nowhere near the centre of the city, preferring to keep to your quieter neighbourhood. It was a treat to sit and watch people going about their business, young and old, families and alone. You felt as though you were seeing a real slice of life outside that window.

You liked being a wallflower, a quiet observer. You used to spend more time out and about before the pandemic but after everything had locked down you realised you didn’t like people that much, as harsh as that may sound. No, since those times you much preferred to spend your time inside, watching Mando or talking to your friends. So it was strange to be out on a Saturday morning in this part of the city, watching the world go by. The longer you sat there, you found that you didn’t hate it as much as you thought you would. It was a nice change of scenery. 

After a few minutes and drinking half of your cappuccino, you turned your attention inside the coffee shop. You noticed that there were plenty of couples here in this coffee shop, staring at each other affectionately from across the table, their hands clasped around their steaming mugs. It made your heart soar a little in hope, wondering whether those looks and these lazy mornings lay in your future with Din. Maybe you should do this more often. Maybe you and Din could come for a coffee here sometime.

Din, you thought with a start.

Thinking of him made you realise that you had completely lost track of time. It was now twenty past eleven and the Zoo was around a fifteen-minute walk away. You cursed yourself under your breath, you were always prone to daydreaming and could get so easily distracted sometimes, lost inside your own head. You had intended to be on time, maybe even early, to avoid giving any kind of impression that you weren’t eager to see Din again. Yet, now, to ensure that you would have to arrive there a sweaty mess, you would have to speed-walk to the zoo. 

Fortunately, you still had your headphones on and you switched to an upbeat playlist, soon falling into step with the fast guitar and drumbeat as you headed to the zoo. The streets were beginning to get busier now and your earlier musings about enjoying being in the city for a change were long forgotten, replaced by a general disdain for the human race. But then you remembered where you were going and who you were meeting. You couldn't help but feel a smile creep across your face. A smile that only got wider when you approached the zoo gates and you saw a familiar figure standing there, waiting for you.

You felt yourself instantly lighten as you noticed him. A stupid, insecure part of your brain had worried that you had somehow misinterpreted things and he wasn’t going to be there. But sure enough, Din was standing right outside the gates with Grogu nestled in his arms. They were facing away from you but it allowed you to appreciate how broad Din’s shoulders looked from the back as you approached him. You were equally delighted to see the sweet little boy again as you were to see his father. After all, if Grogu had not been so drawn to Dürer’s rhino, perhaps the three of you would not be here together now.

As you approached him, you appraised Din’s outfit. He was dressed in a grey knitted cardigan with a dark turtleneck underneath it and a similar pair of dark brown trousers to those he had worn at the museum. You noticed Din was wearing his trusty brown boots once again. You thought he was a bit overdressed considering it was almost July, but British summer was typically not the warmest, so perhaps he had got it just right. Grogu was wearing a light green, short-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of brown trousers. His curly hair was sticking up at all ends and you thought he looked thoroughly adorable. 

You were only a few feet away from Din now, but he still hadn’t spotted you. You weren’t quite sure how to play it – should you tap him on the shoulder? But you decided against that, you didn’t want to startle him with Grogu in his arms.

“Hi, Din,” you said quietly. Din turned around abruptly to face you as if your presence had startled him.

“You came!” Din said, his face suddenly lighting up, eyes crinkling in joy. The wrinkles beside his eyes were suddenly visible, a visual reminder that he was slightly older than you. But the reminder of his age did not make him look any less attractive. Din looked distinguished and handsome.

“Of course I came! Thank you for the flowers and suggestion to meet here. I loved them, it was very thoughtful of you to remember that I mentioned loving Van Gogh’s sunflowers,” you replied, voice shaking slightly with nerves.

“I’m glad you liked the flowers and didn’t find it, uh, creepy,” Din said nervously, placing his hand on the back of his neck again like he had done the first time you had met him in the museum. It was an adorable, bashful, mannerism that you adored.

“Of course not,” you smiled. “It was incredibly thoughtful of you. I’m so happy that you found a way to stay in touch.”

“Me too,” Din whispered, his eyes shimmering with an emotion that you could not quite place. Then he shook his head slightly and remembered the child that he was holding in his arms. “I hope you don’t mind me bringing Grogu along. But, like I said, wherever I go… he goes. And I believe you originally suggested the zoo because of his love for animals, so it wouldn’t have felt right to come here without him.”

“Of course it’s fine, Din,” You smiled. “Hi Grogu!” You beamed, giving a little wave to the little boy with the big brown eyes.

Grogu returned the smile, you were pleased to see that he seemed a lot calmer than he had at the museum. You saw Din visibly relax as you were fine with his son’s presence.

“It’s so good to see you again,” Din breathed. “I was nervous that you weren’t going to show up,” he admitted shyly.

“How could I refuse an invitation to a Zoo?” You questioned with a smile. 

“Really, you don’t get sick of something like this after working at a museum all week?” Din said, raising one eyebrow at you.

“Absolutely not! Well, a zoo is a bit different to a museum but either way, I always loved them since I was Grogu’s age. I was always the straggler during any school trip to a zoo or museum when I was younger. I could have spent hours there,” You began, but shook your head, realising that you were probably rambling. “But enough about me, why don’t we head inside and find those rhinos that I promised were here and that this little one would love?” You beamed, suddenly self-conscious that you were oversharing again.

Din did not seem to mind though. He seemed to enjoy your tangential little rants. Of course, a few days ago he had been a paying customer for them. Now it was just the two of you, and you were painfully aware that they could be annoying to certain people. Not everyone shared the boundless enthusiasm you held for things that you were passionate about. Not everyone found it sweet and endearing. You had learnt the hard way that people could be profoundly annoyed by your enthusiasm and did not understand that you were not trying to make them feel bad. But those judgmental people were far in the past now. 

It had taken a lot of time and a lot of hurt, but you had learnt the hard way that hiding parts of yourself was incredibly draining and only caused you more heartache and pain in the long term. So, with Din, you determined that things would be different. You were going to be nothing but one hundred per cent honest with him. After all, he wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble of picking out the flowers that you had mentioned just in passing if he didn’t like you on some level. It was time to be yourself and let Din see you for who you truly were.

That time had apparently come sooner than you were anticipating. As you made your way inside the zoo, you were suddenly getting the same vibe you had gotten at ForceCon. Where too many people were crammed into an impossibly small space, making things incredibly crowded. It was slightly panic-inducing, but you resolved to try and remain calm. Unfortunately, you did not have a comforting internet friend and a convenient staircase to hide under. It was far busier than you were anticipating. You usually visited the zoo when you had a half day off or on a Sunday afternoon when it seemed to be quieter. Since the weather had improved and it was a Saturday, though, it should have come as no surprise to see the zoo this busy.

Although you did not have Ria at your side, you were not completely alone. You glanced over at Din and instantly felt a rush of adrenaline course through your body. He looked so handsome, his strong side profile and beautiful nose silhouetted against the crowds of busy people. With his broad shoulders and looming presence, a feeling of calmness and security washed over you. Maybe if you had had him to ogle when you had been making your way through the crowds at ForceCon, you would have handled it better, you thought with a smirk.

That momentary relief was fleeting, though. The crowds did not cease, you found that same sensation of being swept away gnawing away in your gut that you had at the convention. But, you reasoned, you had handled that then, just like you would handle this now.

“Are you alright?” Din said, suddenly noticing that you looked slightly uncomfortable. You momentarily cringed, feeling self-conscious that he had noticed how much you were struggling. 

“I’m fine, just not a huge fan of crowds,” you admitted with a slight grimace. “It’ll be fine once we clear out of the entrance though and get on the paths to one of the enclosures. Actually, I think the rhinos are right at the back where hopefully not many people will head straight away. Maybe we could go there first, work against the crowds?”

Din agreed with your suggestion and was content to let you lead the way. The three of you headed down a path that seemed to be in the correct direction of where the rhinos were. It seemed like you were walking the same way as the crowds for a little while. You feared for a second that perhaps, everyone had the same idea as you to head to the back of the zoo first.

Eventually, the tide seemed to turn and more people began heading down the narrow path towards you. You had to squeeze in and get close to Din. You inhaled sharply at the way your skin tingled as you brushed shoulders with him. It was ridiculous that such a light touch, through a shirt, could set your entire body on fire like that. 

Then something bizarre happened. As you moved in to let the latest family pass, you noticed that Grogu was pointing at a young boy. You wondered for a second if they were perhaps friends, but when you looked a little closer you noticed the boy was wearing a shirt with Mando’s helmet on it. What a coincidence! You wondered if perhaps Grogu was a fan of the show. After all, despite its violent elements, it was surprisingly popular with kids. The comment Din had made in the museum about Grogu liking armour came to mind, too. 

You were about to ask Din whether he and Grogu had watched The Mandalorian, but you noticed a strange look suddenly sweep across his features. It seemed to you as if he wanted this family to move past you as quickly as possible. Din sped up and hurriedly walked a few paces ahead of you further up the path, clearly eager to get away from the child as quickly as possible. You frowned slightly and followed him, wondering what precisely it was about the tiny interaction that had spooked him so much. You didn’t question Din on his actions or push for answers. You guessed that he was just a little nervous with Grogu in the crowd. After all, the kid had a habit of running off which you were all too familiar with following his antics in the museum the previous week.

Fortunately, you did not have too long to dwell on the interaction as the path came to an end and you soon found yourselves at the edge of the rhino enclosure. Din picked Grogu up, lifting the little boy so he could take in the sights of the animals over the wire fences that bordered the enclosure.

“See, Grogu?” Din said, pointing in the direction of the beasts. “It’s the same animal we saw in that artwork the other day at the museum, a rhinoceros!”

Grogu chirped in delight, bringing his hands together in glee. The child seemed happy to be here, to be spending time with both of you. He was delighted, as he took in the fact that the same animal that he had seen in picture form a few days ago, was now here before him. Grogu could not convey it in words, but you were sure that he was delighted that you and Din had gone to the trouble of bringing him here.

You looked over at Din too, finding that he was equally enthralled by the rhinos, his brown eyes wide in awe as he watched them pace throughout the enclosure. It was sweet to see whatever stress that Din had endured after Grogu had been so drawn towards that Mando shirt, slowly releasing as he gazed at the magnificent, otherworldly beasts. 

You were still curious about Din’s adverse reaction to a seemingly innocent t-shirt. Perhaps Din just really hated that show, you reasoned. Pop culture was a topic that you had not really broached with Din thus far. You were a little afraid that your references might draw blanks from him given your slight age gap. Din being slightly older than you didn’t bother you and you felt as though there was no real power imbalance between the two of you. Plus, you loved how respectful and caring he was, in a way that guys your age were not.

As you and Din stood there admiring the rhinos, you found yourself mesmerised by the power of the beasts; the way their firm, coarse skin rippled as they took steps through the mud. It broke your heart to think that these creatures were poached for their horns and that some species were now critically endangered. Seeing them before you, they did not look real somehow. It was as though they were not from this universe and had fallen to Earth by mistake, one day. The rhinos looked like they did not belong here. In a way, you sympathised with them. 

Despite the fact you were here with Din, you found that your mind inevitably drifted back to Mando. You thought it was amusing in a way that Grogu had been so drawn towards rhinoceroses. They reminded you of the fictional creature in Star Wars, the mudhorn, that Mando wore on his pauldron. He had managed to slay one against all odds to get its egg and keep a group of unruly Jawas at bay. You remembered watching in awe as Mando used his cunning and strength to outwit the helpless creature. The rhinoceros was probably the closest thing to a mudhorn on this earth. It was an amusing coincidence, especially with Grogu’s attraction to the Mando shirt. 

After a few more minutes of gazing upon these magnificent creatures, you decided to leave the rhinos behind and head elsewhere in the zoo. Din had told you that in addition to rhinos, Grogu also liked frogs, so you headed towards the building that housed them. It was a magnificent brick building, with an ornate arch over the doorway. There were also plenty of windows to ensure that the reptiles inside were bathed in natural light. Unfortunately, it was also incredibly hot and humid inside, another measure necessary to keep the little creatures safe. You felt yourself beginning to clam up, both at the temperature change and the number of people crammed into this building. But then you looked at Grogu, his little face full of wonder as the three of you came to a halt in front of a large tank containing frogs, and your heart soared at the sight of him so excited. 

You moved to continue walking further around the Reptile House, but the sound of Din calling your name stopped you in your tracks. Grogu had forced his father to stop in front of one of the tanks and was practically squirming out of Din’s arms. The mischievous little boy tapped his small chubby hands onto the glass insistently, looking at the frogs almost as though he wanted to eat them. The kid loved frogs just as much as he loved the carving of the rhino, it seemed. You watched them with a smirk on your face, admiring the sweet scene before you. Well, it was mostly sweet, Grogu was undeniably being a bit of a menace. No matter how much Din tried to tell him that he wasn’t going to be able to touch the frogs, it seemed that the little boy could not handle that fact. He was devastated by the reality that the frogs were going to remain on the other side of the glass, out of his hands. 

You usually disliked small children, their wailing and constant need for attention irked you. Despite your usual disdain for children, you found it was impossible not to like Grogu. He was a cute kid, a complete charmer and, for the most part, very well-behaved. He had listened patiently to you at the museum the other day and had been exceedingly well-behaved on this trip to the zoo thus far. But it seemed that the frogs had pushed him over the edge. His bottom lip jutted out, beginning to pout. And then the wailing began. It was a terrible sound, one that was almost painful to your ears. You looked over to Din in panic, he had already gathered his son up in his arms and was pressing him against his shoulder in an attempt to console him. But nothing was working; the kid would not stop crying. 

“Shhhh, Grogu, shhhhh,” Din said, pleading as the toddler’s temper tantrum began to turn more than a few heads. “Sorry about this… I think it might be best if we head outside.”

“It’s fine Din.” You nodded and let him lead the way. 

Despite how busy the exhibit was, when a person had a wailing toddler in their arms, the crowds just parted instantly, without question or hesitation. You smirked as Din made his way through the crowd, mumbling ‘sorry’ and ‘excuse me’ with a frequency that any Brit would be proud of. You finally made it outside, blinking in the light. Din swung Grogu off his shoulder and looked at his son, caressing his cheek with his thumb, wiping the tears that were staining his chubby cheeks. You were in awe at the calmness and speed with which Din had approached the situation, undaunted by a wailing toddler which was, to you, a terrifying prospect. He was a natural at fatherhood, that much was obvious. 

“Alright, pal. We’re out of there now. Please calm down, Grogu,” Din pleaded, looking nervously around at the nosy onlookers.

You could tell that he was embarrassed and you felt incredibly sorry for him. After all, there was nothing to be ashamed about. Grogu was just a little boy, he didn’t understand that he couldn’t hold the frogs. You decided to step towards them and hopefully offer some words of comfort.

“Hey little guy, what’s the matter?” you asked, concernedly. “I know you love frogs, I really do… but you can’t touch them, Grogu. They have to stay in their tanks so they’re nice and warm. It keeps them safe and protects them. Just like you feel protected when you’re in your dad’s arms,” you smiled, hoping that your words were cutting through to the tearful little boy. Grogu stopped wailing and titled his head to the side, as though he was trying to process the new information you had given him and make his mind up whether it was agreeable. 

“That’s right, we wouldn’t want anything to happen to the frogs, would we?” Din joined in, nodding at you appreciatively for your intervention.

Grogu was still for a few moments but then began furiously shaking his head. It seemed that yours and Din’s kind words had finally gotten through to him. 

“Good boy! That’s it, Grogu, well done for understanding why you can’t touch them,” Din said proudly. 

“Well, you can’t touch those frogs, Grogu. But perhaps we can head to the gift shop on the way out and there might be a frog toy there for you?” You offered with a smile, hoping that Din was okay with such an offer.

Din nodded, seemingly approving of your suggestion and you felt relieved that you had not overstepped your boundaries. Thanks to yours and Din’s soothing words, Grogu soon calmed down. Now that you did not have a crying toddler to contend with, you turned around and noticed that you were standing by a play area that was currently deserted of any children. You laid eyes upon the swingset that was currently empty, a mischievous idea forming in your head.

“Shall we go on the swings?” You questioned playfully.

“It would be rude not to,” Din said with a smirk.

You made your way over to the swings, taking a seat as Din sat at the one next to you, Grogu sitting in his lap. Din told him to hold on but you had already begun moving yourself in earnest, kicking your legs out, determined to swing higher and higher. Din looked at you, a wide smile on his face as Grogu giggled. It wasn’t long before you and Din were both laughing hysterically.

Only moments before, Grogu had been violently wailing, but that terrible scene was now a distant memory as the three of you swung on the swing set. You knew that you would feel self-conscious about unleashing your inner childish side like this with most people. But with Din, you truly felt as though you could be yourself. You felt too, that the more he saw you interact with Grogu, the more he was also beginning to lower some kind of guard that he had encircled himself in. You continued happily swinging on the playground for a few more minutes until two small boys ran up to it, their faces dropping when they saw it was occupied. You felt as though you couldn’t stay there any longer with them watching you like that, so you looked at Din and the three of you climbed off and allowed the kids to play.

After leaving the swings behind, the two of you headed to the penguin enclosure, keen to see the magnificent black and white birds swimming around with your own eyes. As you and Din leant on the railings, Grogu between you, mesmerised by the creatures, the conversation shifted towards your romantic lives.

“So… uh, I was thinking perhaps we could go for some lunch at the cafe over there. Is that alright? I mean, there’s no one waiting for you back at home?” Din asked, his deep voice trembling as his brown eyes remained firmly fixed on the penguins.

“No, Din,” you breathed. “There’s no one waiting for me at home.”

“Wizard!” Din exclaimed. “Oh uh… I mean good, I wanted to spend the entire day with you.”

“Me too, Din,” you smiled. “I take it from your reaction that there is no one waiting for you, either.”

“No, it’s uh… it’s just me and Grogu. Always has been since I found him,” Din divulged and you thought you saw him grimace slightly as he admitted that. “I adopted him, you know. Don’t know much about his early life, but I’m all he has, now.”

“I gathered you had adopted him, but blood doesn’t always matter. I think you’re an amazing father,” you smiled at Din encouragingly.

“Thank you,” Din whispered, his voice cracking and eyes shimmering at your compliment.

At that moment, the little boy you had just been discussing so fondly decided to hold out his arms to Din, an indication that he wanted to be picked up. Din leaned down to scoop him up and the moment passed, but the implications of the conversation you had just shared were clear. You were both single. There were no barriers to you exploring something together. Grogu then began rubbing his stomach, an indication that he was hungry and the three of you headed towards the cafe that Din had earlier spotted.

After a delicious lunch, the rest of the afternoon passed without incident. Mercifully, Grogu did not encounter anything else that upset him as much as the Reptile House had. You and Din strolled around the remainder of the zoo at a leisurely pace, chatting to each other a little bit about your pasts as you went along. There was nothing in particular that either of you wanted to see, happy to let the mood dictate your pace. There was no pressure, nowhere for either of you to be. You gathered from comments that he had made about how busy he had been at work that week, that this was a rare, calm moment in Din’s schedule, as it was yours. He seemed to be relishing it as much as you did.

You were enjoying every moment in his presence, relieved that the spark you had first felt at the museum had carried over to your day out today. However, it was difficult to have a real conversation with him over the constant noise and toddler that you were accompanied by. Much as you had enjoyed your day out, you longed to see Din again in a quieter environment, perhaps just the two of you. But you would not make any demands or push him. Although he had been deliberately vague about what exactly it was that he did for a job, it sounded hectic and stressful. You completely understood if he wanted to spend his downtime with Grogu. You would put no pressure on him, expecting nothing even though you were extremely keen to see him again.

Eventually, you realised that it was almost closing time for the zoo. It was time to make your way to the exits and leave the animals and lush scenery behind. Though not before your promised visit to the Gift Shop, of course. You had promised Grogu a frog, after all. Fortunately, Grogu laid eyes upon the perfect toy to offset the disappointment that he had earlier felt at not being able to touch any of the amphibians. It was a bright green frog plush that he had toddled over to as soon as he laid eyes upon, pointing to it with a chubby hand, his brown eyes looking up at you expectantly.

Despite Din’s protestations that he would pay for it, you insisted. You wanted to treat the precious little boy and reward him for how well-behaved he had been throughout the day, despite his momentary lapse. Plus, Din had bought your tickets and the lunch you had enjoyed by the penguin enclosure. You felt it was the least you could do. The child was overjoyed, hugging his new frog friend tightly in one hand as he toddled alongside the pair of you out of the shop, Din clasping his other hand. 

As you made your way out of the zoo, there was an ice cream van by the entrance, clearly aimed at the crowd exiting the zoo, complete with persuasive children in tow. Grogu had locked eyes on the van that was selling the sweet, sugary treats and of course, there was only going to be one outcome, his big brown eyes were too much for Din to resist. So the three of you ordered a British summertime staple: a classic 99 Flake. It was soft-serve ice cream on a cone with a crumbly, flakey chocolate bar stuck in the ice cream.

After walking away from the van, the three of you found an empty bench to sit on, to watch the world go by and enjoy your treat. Grogu was perched contentedly on Din’s lap, and you noticed, heart skipping a beat, how close you and Din had naturally found yourselves sitting on the bench. Your shoulders and arms resting against each other, your thighs touching too. It felt surprisingly comfortable and affectionate considering how little time you had spent together. But you were certain of one thing: it felt so, so right. Of course, there were probably limits to what public displays of affection Din felt comfortable with in front of Grogu. You felt certain that this was a sign of his intentions, one that set your pulse racing.

After you had all finished your ice creams –  Grogu had ended up wearing more of his ice cream, the sweet treat smeared all around his lips, on his cheeks and nose – the three of you sat there in companionable silence. You watched as the dregs of the crowd filtered through the ornate gates where you had started your day hours before. The silence was pleasant, you were enjoying the sensation of being close to Din, his warm strong body resting against yours. You wondered if he had enjoyed the day as much as you had, hoped he had, at least. You wondered whether Din would like to see you again or if that was it. As if he could read your racing thoughts, Din broke the silence that had settled between the pair of you.

“So, uh. I was thinking… I would love to see you again, perhaps sometime in the week, after you finish work?” Din offered. “I can leave Grogu with a friend and meet you at the museum. Just be the two of us.”

“That sounds wonderful, Din,” You breathed, a shy smile crossing your lips as you looked into his soulful brown eyes. “I would love to.”

“Great!” Din said, smiling widely, clearly relieved that you were both on the same page about wanting to see each other again. “Let me give you my number, I’ll be in touch.”

You took your phone out of your pocket and held it towards your chest, unlocking it with slightly shaky fingers, overcome with excitement and tremendous relief that he had enjoyed your company. You were careful to hold your phone close to your body as you unlocked it so that Din could not see the picture that was your lockscreen. You weren’t sure how to explain the photo of you standing next to the incredible Mandalorian cosplayer that you had taken a picture with at ForceCon to someone like Din. Especially considering the way he had earlier responded to the Mando helmet t-shirt. You weren’t ready to show Din what level of nerd you were just yet. Surprisingly, you hadn’t brought Mando up to him yet. It was partly due to his reaction but also because you knew by your nature, how hard it would be to hide your true enthusiasm for it and just act like a casual fan. It was best left until you had gotten to know Din a bit better.

The unfamiliarity and uncertainty that lingered, despite how sure you were that you wanted to see Din again, was a reminder that this was only the second time you had spent time together. It was hard to believe that you had just met, because when you spent time with Din, you felt, somehow, that you knew him already. You had felt instantly comfortable in his presence, as though you had known him for many years.

And in a way, you had. You just didn’t know it.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @toxic-seduction @survivingandenduring @readingiskeepingmegoing

[whiterosechrista]

Famous/Important Women?

I'm trying to make a list of notable women in history (mostly for fun, partially to use against misogynists who think men did everything), and kinda not wanting to just look up a list online.

So; I'd like anyone who sees this post to add to the list. Even if all you can remember is a name and basic details, that's enough (I myself am mostly operating off memory, and then looking up details to fill in the blanks). If possible though, a date of birth/death and what they're most known for would be great, since those are the details I'm focusing on right now.

I'll add all new people/details to a list here on Tumblr so we're all on the same page info-wise.

Edit; pinning this post both so I don't have to scroll millions of miles and so it's easier for people to find (I should probably be pinning my intro post instead but whatever).

List so far:

Enheduanna (𒂗𒃶𒌌𒀭𒈾), Birthdate unknown (c. 23rd century BCE), death date unknown (c. 23rd century BCE). High Priestess of Nanna/Sin (Sumerian Moon God), Daughter of Sargon (Founder of the Akkadian Empire), Earliest Known Named Author in History.

Nitocris (Greek: Νίτωκρις). Birthdate Unknown (c. 22nd century BCE), death date unknown (c. 22nd century BCE). Possible Queen of Egypt; If So, Would Have Been the Last Queen of the Sixth Dynasty of the Old Kingdom (c.2686 – 2181 BC).

Sobekneferu (Neferusobek). Birthdate unknown (mid 18th century BC), death date unknown (mid 18th century BC). Queen of Egypt, the Last Ruler of the Twelfth Dynasty of the Middle Kingdom, Reign Lasted 3 Years, 10 Months, and 24 days, Ending in c. 1802 BC.

Hatshepsut. Born ~1507 BC, died 1458 BC. Queen of Egypt (c. 1479 – 1458 BC), Fifth Pharaoh of the 18th Dynasty of Egypt, Prolific Builder, Reigned in Peace and Prosperity.

Sappho (Modern Greek: Σαπφώ (Sapphṓ), Aeolic Greek: Ψάπφω (Psápphō)). Born c. 630 BC, died c. 570 BC. Ancient Greek Poetess, Famous for Love Poems, Symbol of Lesbian Love, Known as “The Tenth Muse”.

Timarete (Thamyris, Tamaris, Thamar (Greek: Τιμαρέτη)). Birthdate unknown (c. 5th century BC), death date unknown (c. 5th century BC). Ancient Greek Painter; According to Pliny the Elder, She "Scorned the Duties of Women and Practiced Her Father's Art." At the Time of Archelaus I of Macedon She Was Best Known for a Panel Painting of the Goddess Diana That Was Kept at the City of Ephesus.

Helena of Egypt. Birthdate unknown (4th century BC), death date unknown (c. 4th century BC). Painter, Learned From Her Father, Worked in the Period After the Death of Alexander the Great in 323 BC, Painted a Scene of Alexander Defeating the Persian Ruler, Darius III, at the Battle of Issus.

Kalypso. Birthdate unknown (c. 3rd century BC), death date unknown. Supposed Ancient Greek Painter (existence disputed).

Aristaineta. Birthdate unknown (3rd century BCE), death date unknown (3rd century BCE). Aetolian Woman, Dedicated a Large Monument at the Sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi Which Included Her Mother, Father, Son, and Herself, Which Was a Symbol of Social Status Usually Reserved For the Male Head of the Family.

The Vestal Three (Aemilia, Licinia and Marcia). Born in the 2nd century BC, died December, 114 BC (Aemilia), and 113 BC (Licinia and Marcia). Roman Vestal Virgins (Priestesses), Prosecuted For Having Broken the Vow of Chastity in Two Famous Trials Between 115 and 113 BC.

Iaia of Cyzicus (Ιαία της Κυζίκου). Born c. 2nd century BC, died c. 1st century BC. Famous Greek Painter and Ivory Carver, Most of Her Paintings are Said to Have Been of Women. According to Pliny the Elder; "No One Had a Quicker Hand Than She in Painting." Remained Unmarried All Her Life.

Cleopatra (Cleopatra VII Thea Philopator). Born ~69 BC, died August 10, 30 BC. Queen of Egypt (51 – 30 BC), Last Active Ruler of the Ptolemaic Kingdom of Egypt, Only Known Ptolemaic Ruler to Learn the Egyptian Language.

Soseono (소서노) (Yeon Soseono (연소서노)). Born 66/7 BCE, died 6 BCE. Queen Consort of Goguryeo, One of the Three Kingdoms of Korea (37 – 18 BC), Queen dowager of Baekje (Another of the Three Kingdoms) (18 – 6 BC), Founder of Baekje (18 BC).

Heo Hwang-ok (허황옥) (Empress Boju (보주태후)). Born 32 AD, died 189 AD. Legendary Queen of  Geumgwan Gaya, Mentioned in Samguk yusa (a 13th-Century Korean Chronicle), Believed to Originally be From India.

Septimia Zenobia (𐡡𐡶𐡦𐡡𐡩, Bat-Zabbai). Born ~240, died ~274. Queen of Palmyra (267 – 272), Queen of Egypt (270 – 272), Empress of Palmyra (272).

Hypatia. Born c. 350–370 AD, died March, 415 AD. Neoplatonist Philosopher, Astronomer, and Mathematician, Prominent Thinker in Alexandria, Taught Philosophy and Astronomy, Beloved by Pagans and Christians Alike.

Seondeok of Silla (선덕여왕) (Kim Deokman (덕만)). Born c. 580 or 610, died 20 February, 647. Queen of Silla, One of the Three Kingdoms of Korea (632 – 647), Silla's Twenty-Seventh Ruler and First Reigning Queen, Known as a Wise and Kind Monarch.

Jindeok of Silla (진덕여왕) (Kim Seungman (김승만)). Birthdate unknown, died 654. Queen of Silla, One of the Three Kingdoms of Korea (647 – 654), Silla’s Twenty-Eighth Ruler and Second Reigning Queen, Greatly Improved Relations With China.

Jinseong of Silla (진성여왕) (Kim Man (김만)). Born c. 865, died 897. Queen of Silla, One of the Three Kingdoms of Korea (887-897), Silla’s Fifty-First Ruler, Third and Last Reigning Queen, Said to be Smart by Nature, But Whose Reign Saw the Weakening of Unified Silla.

Ende (En). Born c. 10th Century AD, died c. 10th Century AD. First Spanish Female Manuscript Illuminator to Have Her Work Documented Through Inscription.

Diemoth (Latinized: Diemudus, Diemut, Diemud, Diemuth, Diemod or Diemudis). Born c. 1060, died c. 30 March, 1130. Recluse at Wessobrunn Abbey in Upper Bavaria, Germany, Worked on 45 Manuscripts From 1075 to 1130.

Lǐ Qīngzhào (李清照) (a.k.a. Yian Jushi (易安居士)). Born 1084, died c.1155. Chinese Poet and Essayist, Defiant Visionary, Known as “The Most Talented Woman In History.”

Gunnborga (a.k.a Gunnborga den Goda (literary: 'Gunnborga the Good')). Born c. 11th century, died c. 11th century. Viking Age Swedish Runemaster, Responsible for the Hälsingland Rune Inscription 21, Known as the Only Confirmed Female Runemaster.

Hildegard of Bingen (German: Hildegard von Bingen, Latin: Hildegardis Bingensis, a.k.a Saint Hildegard/the “Sibyl of the Rhine”). Born c. 1098, died 17 September, 1179. German Benedictine Abbess and Polymath, Active as a Writer, Composer, Philosopher, Mystic, Visionary, and Medical Writer/Practitioner During the High Middle Ages.

Matilda of England (Empress Matilda, Empress Maude, the “Lady of the English”). Born c. 7 February, 1102, died 10 September, 1167. Holy Roman Empress (1114 – 1125), Disputed Queen of England (1141 – 1148).

Guda. Born 12th Century AD, died 12th Century AD. German Nun and Illuminator, One of the First Women to Create a Self-Portrait in a Manuscript.

Herrad of Landsberg (Latin: Herrada Landsbergensis). Born c. 1130, died July 25, 1195. Alsatian Nun and Abbess of Hohenburg Abbey in the Vosges Mountains, Known as the Author of the Pictorial Encyclopedia Hortus Deliciarum (The Garden of Delights) (completed in 1185).

Claricia (Clarica). Born c. 12th Century AD, died c. 13th Century AD. German Laywoman and Illuminator, Noted for Including a Self-Portrait in a South German Psalter of c. 1200.

Jefimija (Јефимија) (Jelena Mrnjavčević (Serbian Cyrillic: Јелена Мрњавчевић)). Born 1349, died 1405. Considered the First Female Serbian Poet. Her Lament for a Dead Son and Encomium of Prince Lazar are Famous in the Canon of Medieval Serbian Literature. Also a Skilled Needlewoman and Engraver.

Christine de Pizan (Cristina da Pizzano). Born September, 1364, died c. 1430. Italian-Born French Poet and Court Writer for King Charles VI of France and Several French Dukes. Considered to be One of the Earliest Feminist Writers; Her Work Includes Novels, Poetry, and Biography, and also Literary, Historical, Philosophical, Political, and Religious Reviews and Analyses.

Joan of Arc (Jeanne d’Arc, Jehanne Darc). Born ~1412, died 30 May, 1431. French Knight, Martyr, and Saint, Burned at the Stake.

Catherine of Bologna (Caterina de' Vigri). Born 8 September, 1413, died 9 March, 1463. Italian Poor Clare, Writer, Teacher, Mystic, Artist, and Saint; The Patron Saint of Artists and Against Temptations.

Elena de Laudo. Born c. 15th Century AD, died c. 15th Century AD. Venetian Glass Artist, Belonged to a Glass Painter Family of Murano, is Noted to Have Painted Blanks Delivered to Her From the Workshop of Salvatore Barovier in 1443–1445.

Maria Ormani (Maria di Ormanno degli Albizzi). Born 1428, died c. 1470. Italian Augustinian Hermit Nun-Scribe and Manuscript Illustrator, Most Notable Work is an Apparent Self-Portrait in a Breviary That She Signed and Dated 1453; the Earliest Dated Self-Portrait by a Woman Artist in Italian Renaissance Art.

Sister Barbara Ragnoni (Suor Barbara Ragnoni). Born 1448, died 1533. Italian Nun and Artist for Whom Only One Work Remains Extant; Her Signed Painting, The Adoration of the Shepherds (c. 1500).

Antonia Uccello. Born 1456, died 1491. Carmelite Nun, Noted as a "Pittoressa" (Painter) on Her Death Certificate; Her Style and Skill Remain a Mystery as None of Her Work is Extant.

Marietta Barovier. Born 15th Century AD, died c. 15th/16th Century AD. Venetian Glass Artist, the Artist Behind a Particular Glass Design from Venetian Murano; the Glass Bead Called Rosette or Chevron Bead, in 1480. In 1487 She Was Noted to Have Been Given the Privilege to Construct a Special Kiln (Sua Fornace Parrula) for Making "Her Beautiful, Unusual and Not Blown Works".

Catherine of Aragon (Katherine, Catharina, Catalina). Born 16 December, 1485, died 7 January, 1536. First Wife of King Henry VIII, Queen Consort of England (1509 – 1533).

Properzia de' Rossi. Born c. 1490, died 1530. Ground-Breaking Female Italian Renaissance Sculptor, One of Only Four Women to Receive a Biography in Giorgio Vasari's Lives of the Artists.

Anne Boleyn. Born c. 1501 or 1507, died 19 May, 1536. Second Wife of King Henry VIII, Queen Consort of England (1533 – 1536), Martyr, Executed on False Charges.

Jane Seymour. Born c. 1508, died 24 October, 1537. Third Wife of King Henry VIII, Queen Consort of England (1536 – 1537), Died of Postnatal Complications.

Levina Teerlinc. Born in the 1510s, died 23 June, 1576. Flemish Renaissance Miniaturist who Served as a Painter to the English Court of Henry VIII, Edward VI, Mary I and Elizabeth I.

Catherine Parr (Kateryn Parr). Born c. August, 1512, died 5 September, 1548. Sixth Wife of King Henry VIII, Queen Consort of England and Ireland (1543 – 1547), First English Woman to Publish an Original Work Under Her Own Name, Widowed, Remarried, Died in Childbirth.

Anne of Cleves (Anna von Kleve). Born 28 June or 22 September, 1515, died 16 July, 1557. Fourth Wife of King Henry VIII, Queen Consort of England (6 January 1540 – 12 July 1540), Marriage Annulled, Outlived All Other Wives.

Mary I of England (Mary Tudor). Born 18 February, 1516, died 17 November, 1558. First Undisputed Regnant Queen of England and Ireland (1553 – 1558), Daughter of Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon.

Mayken Verhulst (a.k.a. Marie Bessemers). Born 1518, died 1596 or 1599. 16th-Century Flemish Miniature, Tempera and Watercolor Painter and Print Publisher, Actively Engaged in the Workshop of Her Husband, Posthumously Publishing His Works. While Recognized as an Exceptionally Skilled Artist, Little is Known About Her Works or Life as There are Few Surviving Sources.

Catherine Howard (Katheryn Howard). Born c. 1523, died 13 February, 1542. Fifth Wife of King Henry VIII, Queen Consort of England (1540 – 1541), Stripped of Title, Beheaded for ‘Treason’.

Sister Plautilla Nelli (Pulisena Margherita Nelli). Born 1524, died 1588. Self-Taught Nun-Artist, the First Ever Known Female Renaissance Painter of Florence, and the Only Renaissance Woman Known to Have Painted the Last Supper.

Caterina van Hemessen (Catharina van Hemessen). Born 1528, died after 1565. Flemish Renaissance Painter, the Earliest Female Flemish Painter for Whom There is Verifiable Extant Work, Possibly Created the First Self-Portrait of an Artist (of Either Gender) Depicted Seated at an Easel (1548).

Sofonisba Anguissola (a.k.a Sophonisba Angussola or Sophonisba Anguisciola). Born c. 1532, died 16 November, 1625. Italian Renaissance Painter, Born to a Relatively Poor Noble Family, Got a Well-Rounded Education That Included the Fine Arts; Her Apprenticeship With Local Painters Set a Precedent for Women to be Accepted as Students of Art.

Elizabeth I of England (Elizabeth Tudor, the “Virgin Queen”). Born 7 September, 1533, died 24 March, 1603. Regnant Queen of England and Ireland (1558 – 1603), Last Monarch of the House of Tudor, Daughter of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn.

Lucia Anguissola. Born 1536 or 1538, died c. 1565 – 1568. Italian Mannerist Painter of the Late Renaissance, Younger Sister of Sofonisba, Who She Likely Trained With.

Lady Jane Grey (Lady Jane Dudley (married name)). Born  ~1537, died 12 February, 1554. Queen of England for ~9 days (~10 July, 1553 – 19 July, 1553) (disputed), First Cousin Once Removed of Mary I and Elizabeth I.

Mary, Queen of Scots (Mary Stuart). Born 8 December, 1542, died 8 February, 1587. Queen of Scotland (1542 – 1567), Forced Abdication, Imprisonment, Execution.

Diana Scultori (a.k.a Diana Mantuana & Diana Ghisi). Born 1547, died 5 April, 1612. Italian Engraver From Mantua, Italy; One of the Earliest Known Women Printmakers, Making Mostly Reproductive Engravings of Well-Known Paintings/Drawings and Ancient Roman Sculptures.

Lavinia Fontana. Born 24 August, 1552, died 11 August, 1614. Italian Mannerist Painter, Active in Bologna and Rome, Best Known for Her Successful Portraiture, but Also Worked in the Genres of Mythology and Religious Painting, Regarded as the First Female Career Artist in Western Europe.

Barbara Longhi. Born 21 September, 1552, died 23 December, 1638. Italian Painter, Much Admired in Her Lifetime as a Portraitist, Though Most of Her Portraits are Now Lost or Unattributed.

Marietta Robusti. Born 1560, died 1590. Highly Skilled Venetian Painter of the Renaissance Period, the Daughter of Tintoretto (Jacobo Robusti), Sometimes Referred to as Tintoretta.

Elizabeth Báthory (Báthori Erzsébet). Born 7 August, 1560, died 21 August, 1614. Hungarian Countess, Subject of Folklore, Alleged Serial Killer.

Esther Inglis. Born 1571, died 1624. Skilled Artisan and Miniaturist Who Possessed Several Skills in Areas Such as Calligraphy, Writing, and Embroidering; Over the Course of Her Life, She Composed Around Sixty Miniature Books That Display Her Calligraphic Skill With Paintings, Portraits, and Embroidered Covers.

Galizia (Fede Galizia). Born c. 1578, died c. 1630. Italian Painter of Still-Lifes, Portraits, and Religious Pictures, Especially Noted as a Painter of Still-Lifes of Fruit, a Genre in Which She Was One of the Earliest Practitioners in European Art.

Izumo no Okuni (出雲 阿国). Born c. 1578, died c. 1613. Actress, Shrine Maiden, Creator of Kabuki Theater (1603 – 1610), Recruited Lower-Class Women For Her Troupe, Primarily Prostitutes.

Clara Peeters. Born c. 1580s/90s, death date unknown. Flemish Still-Life Painter From Antwerp Who Worked in Both the Spanish Netherlands and Dutch Republic. Was the Best-Known Female Flemish Artist of This Era and One of the Few Women Artists Working Professionally in 17th-Century Europe, Despite Restrictions on Women's Access to Artistic Training and Membership in Guilds.

Artemisia Gentileschi (Artemisia Lomi). Born 8 July, 1593, died c. 1656. Italian Baroque Painter, Considered Among the Most Accomplished 17th-Century Artists, Making Professional Work by Age 15. In an Era When Women Had Few Chances to Pursue Artistic Training/Work as Professional Artists, She Was the First Woman to Become a Member of the Accademia di Arte del Disegno and Had an International Clientele. Much of Her Work Features Women From Myths, Allegories, and the Bible, Including Victims, Suicides, and Warriors.

Magdalena van de Passe. Born 1600, died 1638. Dutch Engraver, Member of the Van de Passe Family of Artists From Cologne, Active in the Northern Netherlands. Specialized in Landscapes and Portraits, and Trained the Polymath Anna Maria van Schurman in Engraving, One of the Few Known Early Examples of the Training of One Woman Artist by Another.

Giovanna Garzoni. Born 1600, died 1670. Italian Painter of the Baroque Period; Began Her Career Painting Religious, Mythological, and Allegorical Subjects but Gained Fame For Her Botanical Subjects Painted in Tempera and Watercolor.

Michaelina Wautier (Michaelina Woutiers). Born 1604, died 1689. Baroque Painter From the Southern Netherlands (now Belgium), Noted For the Variety of Subjects and Genres She Worked in, Unusual For Female Artists of the Time, Who Were More Often Restricted to Smaller Paintings, Generally Portraits or Still-Lifes.

Judith Leyster (Judith Jans Leyster (also Leijster)). Born in July, 1609, died February 10, 1660. Dutch Golden Age Painter of Genre Works, Portraits, and Still-Lifes. Her Work Was Highly Regarded by Her Contemporaries, but Largely Forgotten After Her Death. Her Entire Oeuvre Came to be Attributed to Frans Hals or to Her Husband, Jan Miense Molenaer. In 1893, She Was Rediscovered and Scholars Began to Attribute Her Works Correctly.

Louise Moillon. Born 1610, died 1696. French Still-Life Painter in the Baroque Era, Became Known as One of the Best Still-Life Painters of Her Time, Her Work Purchased by King Charles I of England, as Well as French Nobility.

Catharina Peeters. Born 1615, died 1676. Flemish Baroque Painter, Noted For Painting Seascapes.

Katharina Pepijn (Catharina Pepijn). Born in February, 1619, died 12 November, 1688. Flemish Painter Who Was Known For Her History Paintings and Portraits.

Josefa de Óbidos (Josefa de Ayala Figueira). Born c.  January, 1630, died 22 July, 1684. Spanish-Born Portuguese Painter. All of Her Work Was Executed in Portugal, Her Father's Native Country, Where She Lived From the Age of Four. Approximately 150 Works of Art Have Been Attributed to Her, Making Her One of the Most Prolific Baroque Artists in Portugal.

Maria van Oosterwijck (Maria van Oosterwyck). Born 20/27 August, 1630, died 1693. Dutch Golden Age Painter, Specializing in Richly-Detailed Flower Paintings and Other Still-Lifes. Despite the Fact That Her Paintings Were Highly Sought Out by Collectors (Including Royalty), She Was Denied Membership in the Painters' Guild Because Women Weren’t Allowed to Join. Stayed Single Throughout Her Life, but Raised Her Orphaned Nephew.

Johanna Vergouwen (Jeanne Vergouwen, Joanna Vergouwen). Born 1630, died 11 March, 1714. Flemish Baroque Painter, Copyist, and Art Dealer.

Mary Beale (née Cradock). Born in late March, 1633, died 8 October, 1699. English Portrait Painter and Writer, Part of a Small Band of Female Professional Artists Working in London. Her Manuscript Observations (1663), on the Materials and Techniques Employed "in Her Painting of Apricots", Though Not Printed, is the Earliest Known Instructional Text in English Written by a Female Painter.

Elisabetta Sirani. Born 8 January, 1638, died 28 August, 1665. Italian Baroque Painter and Printmaker Who Died in Unexplained Circumstances at the Age of 27. She Was One of the First Women Artists in Early Modern Bologna, and Established an Academy for Other Women Artists.

Maria Theresia van Thielen. Born 7 March, 1640, died 11 February, 1706. Flemish Baroque Painter, Known for Several Flower Pieces and Outdoor Still-Lifes Painted in the Style of Her Father, Jan Philip van Thielen.

Anna Maria van Thielen. Born 1641, death date unknown. Flemish Baroque Painter and Nun, Younger Sister of Maria Theresia, Older Sister of Fransisca Catharina.

Maria Borghese (Maria Virginia Teresa Borghese). Born 1642, died 1718. Italian Baroque Artist, Daughter of Art Collector Olimpia Aldobrandini.

Francisca Catharina van Thielen. Born 1645, death date unknown. Flemish Baroque Painter and Nun, Younger Sister of Maria Theresia and Anna Maria.

Maria Sibylla Merian. Born 2 April, 1647, died 13 January, 1717. German Entomologist, Naturalist and Scientific Illustrator, One of the Earliest European Naturalists to Document Observations About Insects Directly.

Élisabeth Sophie Chéron. Born 3 October, 1648, died 3 September, 1711. Remembered Today Primarily as a French Painter, but She Was a Renaissance Woman, Acclaimed in Her Lifetime as a Gifted Poet, Musician, Artist, and Academician.

Luisa Roldán (Luisa Ignacia Roldán, a.k.a La Roldana). Born 8 September, 1652, died 10 January, 1706. Spanish Sculptor of the Baroque Era, the Earliest Woman Sculptor Documented in Spain. Recognized in the Hispanic Society Museum For Being "One of the Few Women Artists to Have Maintained a Studio Outside the Convents in Golden Age Spain".

Rachel Ruysch. Born 3 June, 1664, died 12 October, 1750. Dutch Still-Life Painter From the Northern Netherlands. She Specialized in Flowers, Inventing Her Own Style and Achieving International Fame in Her Lifetime. Due to a Long, Successful Career That Spanned Over Six Decades, She Became the Best-Documented Woman Painter of the Dutch Golden Age.

Anne, Queen of Great Britain. Born 6 February, 1665, died 1 August, 1714. Queen of England, Scotland, and Ireland (1702 – 1707), First Queen of Great Britain and Ireland (1707 – 1714).

Isabel de Cisneros (Isabel de Santiago). Born 1666, died c. 1714. Criollo Colonial Painter Born in the Colony of Quito (Ecuador), Specialized in Oil Paintings of the Childhood of the Virgin and of the Baby Jesus, Adorned With Flowers and Animals.

Rosalba Carriera. Born 12 January, 1673, died 15 April, 1757. Venetian Rococo Painter; In Her Younger Years She Specialized in Portrait Miniatures, Would Later Become Known For Her Pastel Portraits, Helping Popularize the Medium in 18th-Century Europe. She is Remembered as One of the Most Successful Women Artists of Any Era.

Giulia Lama (Giulia Elisabetta Lama). Born 1 October, 1681, died 7/8 October, 1747. Italian Painter, Active in Venice. Her Dark, Tense Style Contrasted With the Dominant Pastel Colors of the Late Baroque Era. She Was One of the First Female Artists to Study the Male Figure Nude.

Anna Dorothea Therbusch (born Anna Dorothea Lisiewski (Polish: Anna Dorota Lisiewska)). Born 23 July, 1721, died 9 November, 1782. Prominent Rococo Painter Born in the Kingdom of Prussia (Modern-Day Poland). About 200 of Her Works Survive, and She Painted at Least Eighty-Five Verified Portraits.

Catherine the Great (Catherine II, Екатерина Алексеевна (Yekaterina Alekseyevna), born Princess Sophie Augusta Frederica von Anhalt-Zerbst). Born 2 May, 1729, died 17 November, 1796. Reigning Empress of Russia (1762 – 1796), Came to Power After Overthrowing Her Husband, Peter III. Under Her Long Reign, Russia Experienced a Renaissance of Culture and Sciences.

Ulrika Pasch (Ulrika "Ulla" Fredrica Pasch). Born 10 July, 1735, died 2 April, 1796. Swedish Rococo Painter and Miniaturist, and a Member of the Royal Swedish Academy of Arts.

Angelica Kauffman (Maria Anna Angelika Kauffmann). Born 30 October, 1741, died 5 November, 1807. Swiss Neoclassical Painter Who Had a Successful Career in London and Rome. Remembered Primarily as a History Painter, She Was a Skilled Portraitist, Landscape and Decoration Painter. She Was, Along With Mary Moser, One of Two Female Painters Among the Founding Members of the Royal Academy in London in 1768.

Mary Moser. Born 27 October, 1744, died 2 May, 1819. English Painter and One of the Most Celebrated Female Artists of 18th-Century Britain. One of Only Two Female Founding Members of the Royal Academy in 1768 (Along With Angelica Kauffman), She Painted Portraits But is Particularly Noted For Her Depictions of Flowers.

Anne Vallayer-Coster. Born 21 December, 1744, died 28 February, 1818. Major 18th-Century French Painter, Best Known For Still-Lifes. She Achieved Fame and Recognition Very Early in Her Career, Being Admitted to the Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture in 1770, at the Age of Twenty-Six. Her Life Was Determinedly Private, Dignified and Hard-Working.

Adélaïde Labille-Guiard (née Labille/a.k.a Adélaïde Labille-Guiard des Vertus). Born 11 April, 1749, died 24 April, 1803. French Miniaturist and Portrait Painter, Was an Advocate for Women to Receive the Same Opportunities as Men to Become Great Painters. She Was One of the First Women to Become a Member of the Royal Academy, and Was the First Female Artist to Receive Permission to Set Up a Studio for Her Students at the Louvre.

Marianne Mozart (Maria Anna Walburga Ignatia Mozart). Born 30 July, 1751, died 29 October, 1829. Musician (c. 1759 – 1769), Music Teacher (1772 – 1829), Sister of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun (Élisabeth Louise Vigée Le Brun, born Élisabeth Louise Vigée, a.k.a. Louise Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun, Madame Le Brun). Born 16 April, 1755, died 30 March, 1842. French Painter Who Mostly Specialized in Portrait Painting, in the Late 18th/Early 19th Centuries, Made a Name For Herself in Ancien Régime Society by Serving as the Portrait Painter to Marie Antoinette, Enjoyed the Patronage of European Aristocrats, Actors, and Writers, and Was Elected to Art Academies in Ten Cities.

Marie Antoinette (Maria Antonia). Born 2 November, 1755, died 16 October, 1793. Last Queen of France (1774 – 1792), Bad Reputation, Executed by Guillotine.

Maria Cosway (Maria Luisa Caterina Cecilia Cosway (née Hadfield)). Born 11 June, 1760, died 5 January, 1838. Italian-English Painter, Musician, and Educator, Worked in England, France, and Later Italy, Cultivating a Large Circle of Friends and Clients. Founded a Girls' School in Paris (Dir. 1803 – 1809). Soon After it Closed, She Founded a Girls' College and School in Lodi, Northern Italy, Which She Directed Until Her Death.

Marguerite Gérard. Born 28 January, 1761, died 18 May, 1837. French Painter and Printmaker Working in the Rococo Style; More Than 300 Genre Paintings, 80 Portraits, and Several Miniatures Have Been Documented to Her.

Marie-Gabrielle Capet. Born 6 September, 1761, died 1 November, 1818. French Neoclassical Painter, Pupil of the French Painter Adélaïde Labille-Guiard in Paris. Excelled as a Portrait Painter; Her Works Include Oil Paintings, Watercolors, and Miniatures.

Anna Rajecka (a.k.a Madame Gault de Saint-Germain). Born c. 1762, died 1832. Polish Portrait Painter and Pastellist, Raised as a Protégée of King Stanisław August Poniatowski of Poland; In 1783, She Was Enrolled at His Expense at the Art School for Women at the Louvre in Paris. Chose to Stay in Paris After Marrying Miniaturist Pierre-Marie Gault de Saint-Germain in 1788. Became the First Polish Woman to Have Her Work Represented at the Salon in 1791.

Marie-Guillemine Benoist (born Marie-Guillemine Laville-Leroux), Born December 18, 1768, died October 8, 1826. French Neoclassical, Historical, and Genre Painter, Student of Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun.

Adèle Romany (born Jeanne Marie Mercier, a.k.a. Adèle Romanée, Adèle de Romance). Born 7 December, 1769, died 6 June, 1846. French Painter Known for Miniatures and Portraits, Especially Those of People Involved in Performing Arts.

Marie-Denise Villers (Marie-Denise "Nisa" Lemoine). Born 1774, died 19 August, 1821. French Painter Who Specialized in Portraits. In 1794, She Married an Architecture Student, Michel-Jean-Maximilien Villers. Her Husband Supported Her Art, During a Time When Many Women Were Forced to Give Up Professional Art Work After Marriage.

Constance Mayer (Marie-Françoise Constance Mayer La Martinière). Born 9 March, 1775, died 26 May, 1821. French Painter of Portraits, Allegorical Subjects, Miniatures and Genre Works. She Had "a Brilliant But Bitter Career."

Jane Austen. Born 16 December, 1775, died 18 July, 1817. English Novelist, Author of Sense and Sensibility (1811), Pride and Prejudice (1813), etc, Known For Her Subtle Criticism of the Nobility of the Time.

Marie Ellenrieder. Born 20 March, 1791, died 5 June, 1863. German Painter Known For Her Portraits and Religious Paintings, Considered to be the Most Important German Woman Artist of Her Time.

Louise-Adéone Drölling (Madame Joubert). Born 29 May, 1797, died 20 March, 1834. French Painter and Draftswoman. Both Her Father and Older Brother Were Celebrated Artists in Their Day; She Herself Was Not a Very Prolific Painter.

Mary Shelley (Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, née Godwin). Born 30 August, 1797, died 1 February 1851. English Novelist, Author of Frankenstein (1818), Which is Considered One of the Earliest Examples of Science Fiction.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Born 6 March, 1806, died 29 June, 1861. Influential Poet, Author of How Do I Love Thee (Sonnet 43, 1845) and Aurora Leigh (1856).

Ada Lovelace (Augusta Ada King, née Byron, Countess of Lovelace). Born 10 December, 1815, died 27 November, 1852. Mathematician, Writer, First to Think of Other Uses for Computing Besides Mathematical Calculations.

Victoria I (Alexandrina Victoria). Born 24 May, 1819, died 22 January, 1901. Queen of England (1837 – 1901), Longest Reign of All Predecessors.

Florence Nightingale. Born May 12, 1820, died August 13, 1910. English Nurse, Pioneer of Modern Nursing, Statistics, and Social Reformation (~1853 – ?).

Rosa Bonheur. Born 16 March, 1822, died 25 May, 1899. French Artist Known Best as a Painter of Animals (Animalière). She Also Made Sculptures in a Realist Style. Was Widely Considered to be the Most Famous Female Painter of the Nineteenth Century. It’s Been Claimed That She Was Openly Lesbian, as She Lived With Her Partner Nathalie Micas For Over 40 Years Until Micas's Death.

Barbara Bodichon. Born 8 April, 1827, died 11 June, 1891. English Educationalist, Artist, and a Leading Mid-19th-Century Feminist and Women's Rights Activist. She Published Her Influential Brief Summary of the Laws of England concerning Women in 1854 and the English Woman's Journal in 1858, and Co-Founded Girton College, Cambridge (1869).

Emily Dickinson (Emily Elizabeth Dickinson). Born December 10, 1830, died May 15, 1886. American Poet, Little-Known During Her Lifetime, Most Works Published Posthumously and Heavily Edited, Later Regarded as One of the Most Important Figures In American Poetry.

Louisa May Alcott. Born November 29, 1832, died March 6, 1888. American Novelist, Short Story Writer, Poet, Author of Little Women (1868), Abolitionist, Feminist, Active in Temperance and Women’s Suffrage Movements.

Elizabeth Jane Gardner (Elizabeth Jane Gardner Bouguereau (married name)). Born October 4, 1837, died January 28, 1922. American Academic and Salon Painter, Born in Exeter, New Hampshire. She Was the First American Woman to Exhibit and Win a Gold Medal at the Paris Salon. Her Works Were Accepted to the Salon More Than Any Other Woman Painter in History, and More Than All But a Few of the Men.

Marie Bracquemond (Marie Anne Caroline Quivoron). Born 1 December, 1840, died 17 January, 1916. French Impressionist Artist, One of Four Notable Women in the Impressionist Movement, Along With Mary Cassatt, Berthe Morisot, and Eva Gonzalès. Studied Drawing as a Child and Began Showing Her Work at the Paris Salon When She Was Still an Adolescent. Never Underwent Formal Art Training, But Received Limited Instruction From Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres and Advice From Paul Gauguin, Which Contributed to Her Stylistic Approach.

Berthe Morisot (Berthe Marie Pauline Morisot). Born January 14, 1841, died March 2, 1895. French Painter and a Member of the Circle of Painters in Paris Who Became Known as the Impressionists. Described by Art Critic Gustave Geffroy in 1894 as One of "Les Trois Grandes Dames" (The Three Great Ladies) of Impressionism Alongside Marie Bracquemond and Mary Cassatt.

Emma Sandys (born Mary Ann Emma Sands). Born 25 September, 1841, died 21 November, 1877. British Pre-Raphaelite Painter. Her Works Were Mainly Portraits in Both Oil and Chalk of Children and of Young Women, Often in Period Clothing, Against Backgrounds of Brightly Coloured Flowers.

Maria Zambaco (Marie Terpsithea Cassavetti (Greek: Μαρία Τερψιθέα Κασσαβέτη)). Born 29 April, 1843, died 14 July, 1914. British Sculptor of Greek Descent, Was Also an Artist's Model, Favored by the Pre-Raphaelites.

Kitty Kielland (Kitty Lange Kielland). Born 8 October, 1843, died 1 October, 1914. Norwegian Landscape Painter.

Marie Stillman (Marie Spartali (Greek: Μαρία Σπαρτάλη)). Born 10 March, 1844, died 6 March, 1927. British Member of the Second Generation of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. Of the Pre-Raphaelites, She Had One of the Longest-Running Careers, Spanning Sixty Years and Producing Over One Hundred and Fifty Works. Though Her Work With the Brotherhood Began as a Favorite Model, She Soon Trained and Became a Respected Painter.

Mary Cassatt (Mary Stevenson Cassatt). Born May 22, 1844, died June 14, 1926. American Painter and Printmaker, Born in Pennsylvania and Lived Much of her Adult Life in France, Where She Befriended Edgar Degas and Exhibited With the Impressionists. Often Created Images of the Social and Private Lives of Women, With Particular Emphasis on the Intimate Bonds Between Mothers and Children. Described by Gustave Geffroy as One of "Les Trois Grandes Dames" (The Three Great Ladies) of Impressionism Alongside Marie Bracquemond and Berthe Morisot.

Elizabeth Thompson (Elizabeth Southerden Thompson, later known as Lady Butler). Born 3 November, 1846, died 2 October, 1933. British Painter Who Specialized in Painting Scenes From British Military Campaigns and Battles, Including the Crimean War and the Napoleonic Wars.

Lilla Cabot Perry (born Lydia Cabot). Born January 13, 1848, died February 28, 1933. American Artist Who Worked in the American Impressionist Style, Rendering Portraits and Landscapes in the Freeform Manner of Her Mentor, Claude Monet. She Was an Early Advocate of the French Impressionist Style and Contributed to its Reception in the United States. Her Early Work Was Shaped by Her Exposure to the Boston School of Artists and Her Travels in Europe and Japan.

Anna Boch (Anna-Rosalie Boch). Born 10 February, 1848, died 25 February, 1936. Belgian Painter, Art Collector, and the Only Female Member of the Artistic Group, Les XX. Part of the Neo-Impressionist Movement.

Anna Bilińska (a.k.a. Anna Bilińska-Bohdanowicz). Born 8 December, 1854, died 8 April, 1893. Polish Painter, Known For Her Portraits. A Representative of Realism, She Spent Most of Her Life in Paris, and is Considered the "First Internationally Known Polish Woman Artist."

Cecilia Beaux (Eliza Cecilia Beaux). Born May 1, 1855, died September 17, 1942. American Artist and the First Woman to Teach Art at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts. Known For Her Elegant and Sensitive Portraits of Friends, Relatives, and Gilded Age Patrons, She Painted Many Famous Subjects Including First Lady Edith Roosevelt, Admiral Sir David Beatty and Georges Clemenceau.

Evelyn De Morgan (Mary Evelyn Pickering). Born 30 August, 1855, died 2 May, 1919. English Painter Associated Early in Her Career With the Later Phase of the Pre-Raphaelite Movement, and Working in a Range of Styles Including Aestheticism and Symbolism. Her Paintings Rely on a Range of Metaphors to Express Spiritualist and Feminist Content; Her Later Works Also Dealt With Themes of War From a Pacifist Perspective.

Lucy Bacon (Lucy Angeline Bacon). Born July 30, 1857, died October 17, 1932. Californian Artist Known for Her California Impressionist Oil Paintings of Florals, Landscapes and Still Lifes. Studied in Paris Under the Impressionist Camille Pissarro; The Only Known Californian Artist to Have Studied Under Any of the Great French Impressionists.

Laura Muntz Lyall (Laura Adeline Muntz). Born June 18, 1860, died December 9, 1930. Canadian Impressionist Painter and Art Teacher, Known for Her Sympathetic Portrayal of Women and Children.

Olga Boznańska. Born 15 April, 1865, died 26 October, 1940. Polish Painter and Art Teacher of the Turn of the 20th Century. She Was a Notable Painter in Poland and Europe, and Was Stylistically Associated With French Impressionism, Though She Rejected This Label.

Suzanne Valadon (Marie-Clémentine Valadon). Born 23 September, 1865, died 7 April, 1938. French Painter Who, in 1894, Became the First Woman Painter Admitted to the Société Nationale des Beaux-Arts. Shocked the Artistic World by Painting Male Nudes as well as Less Idealized Images of Women (in Comparison to Those of Her Male Counterparts).

Mademoiselle Abomah (Ella Williams). Born October, 1865, death date unknown (after 1920s). African-American Performer, Giantess Who Grew to Eight Feet Tall.

Anna Connelly. Born September 23, 1868, died ~1969. Inventor of the First Fire Escape (1887), One of the First Women to Patent an Invention Without Help From a Man.

Emma Goldman. Born June 27, 1869, died May 14, 1940. Anarchist Revolutionary, Political Activist, Writer, Played a Pivotal Role in Development of Anarchist Philosophy in North America and Europe In the First Half of the 20th Century.

Ella Ewing, “The Missouri Giantess” (Ella Katherine Ewing). Born March 9, 1872, died January 10, 1913. Giantess, Performer, Considered the World’s Tallest Woman of Her Era.

Helen Keller (Helen Adams Keller). Born June 27, 1880, died June 1, 1968. Blind/Deaf, Disability Rights/etc. Activist (1909 – ?), Author (1903 – ?).

Agatha Christie (Dame Agatha Mary Clarissa Christie, Lady Mallowan, DBE (née Miller)). Born 15 September, 1890, died 12 January, 1976. English Writer, Known For Her 66 Detective Novels and 14 Short Story Collections. Dubbed “The Queen of Crime”.

Amelia Earhart (Amelia Mary Earhart). Born July 24, 1897, died January 5, 1939 (in absentia). First Solo Female Pilot (1932), Women's Rights Activist, Lost at Sea (1937).

Ebony and Ivory (Margaret Patrick and Ruth Eisenburg). Born 1902 (Eisenburg)/1913 (Patrick), died 1996 (Eisenburg)/1994 (Patrick). Elderly Interracial Piano Duo (1983 – 1988), Disabled on Opposite Sides.

Virginia Hall (Virginia Hall Goillot, Codenamed Marie and Diane, Known as “Artemis” and ”The Limping Lady” by the Germans). Born April 6, 1906, died July 8, 1982. WWII-Era Intelligence Agent (1940 – 1945), Considered “The Most Dangerous of All Allied Spies” by the Gestapo, Later Joined the CIA (1947 – 1966), Had Prosthetic Leg.

Li Zhen (李贞) (Li Danmeizi (旦妹子)). Born February, 1908, died March 11, 1990. Revolutionary (1927 – ?), First Female General of the People’s Liberation Army (1955 – ?).

Mother Teresa (Mary Teresa Bojaxhiu (born Anjezë Gonxhe Bojaxhiu)). Born 26 August, 1910, died 5 September, 1997. Albanian-Indian Catholic Nun, Founder of the Missionaries of Charity.

Rosa Parks (Rosa Louise McCauley Parks). Born February 4, 1913, died October 24, 2005. Civil Rights Activist (1943 – ?), Played a Pivotal Role in the Montgomery Bus Boycott (1955), Became Symbol of Resistance to Racial Segregation.

Judy Garland (Frances Ethel Gumm). Born June 10, 1922, died June 22, 1969. Award-Winning Singer/Actress (1924 – 1969), Starred in The Wizard of Oz (1939), A Star Is Born (1954), etc.

Stephanie Kwolek (Stephanie Louise Kwolek). Born July 31, 1923, died June 18, 2014. Award-Winning Chemist, Inventor of Kevlar (1965).

Marilyn Monroe (Norma Jeane Mortenson). Born June 1, 1926, died August 4, 1962. Award-Winning Actress (1945 – 1961), Pop/Sex Icon of Hollywood’s Golden Age, Starred in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953), Some Like It Hot (1959), etc.

Ursula K. Le Guin (Ursula Kroeber Le Guin). Born October 21, 1929, died January 22, 2018. American Novelist, Best Known For Her Works of Speculative Fiction, Author of the Earthsea Series (1964 – 2018), The Left Hand of Darkness (1969), The Dispossessed (1974), etc.

Aretha Franklin (Aretha Louise Franklin). Born March 25, 1942, died August 16, 2018. Award-Winning Gospel/Rock/RnB Singer, Songwriter, Pianist, Civil Rights Activist, Record Producer (1954 – 2017).

Liza Minnelli (Liza May Minelli). Born March 12, 1946, Still Living. Award-Winning Actress, Singer, Dancer, and Choreographer (1961 – present), Daughter of Judy Garland.

Afeni Shakur (Afeni Shakur Davis, Born Alice Faye Williams). Born January 10, 1947, died May 2, 2016. American Political Activist, Member of the Black Panther Party (1968 – 1971), Mother of Tupac Shakur.

Assata Shakur (Assata Olugbala Shakur (Born JoAnne Deborah Byron), A.k.a. Joanne Chesimard). Born July 16, 1947, Still Living. American Political Activist, Convicted of Murder, Former Member of the Black Liberation Army, One of the FBI's "Most Wanted Terrorists", Friend of Afeni Shakur & Mutulu Shakur, Often Described as Their Son Tupac Shakur's "Godmother" or "Step-Aunt", Currently a Fugitive, in Asylum in Cuba.

(P.S. if I got anything wrong, feel free to correct me.)

[defodisturbed]

Diet Culture - Poly!Recoms x PlusSize!reader

(A/N: inspired by the song Diet Culture by Brye! i love the song and can relate to it as a mid/plus-size person. i wrote this for my friend (you know who you are) and thought she would like it! i've always felt insecure and i'm sure many of you have as well. i hope this can bring you some joy or comfort even in the slightest. enjoy!)

And I know their worst fear is to look like me

And that fact makes me want to kill somebody.

To be a plus-sized person in the modern age has never been an easy feat. At least in the 16-18th century they thought it was very beautiful and desirable to have a body like mine. But now, as resources run dry and there's no space for everyone due to overpopulation, everyone hates fat people more than ever before. The body positivity movement was popular and utilized in the 21st century, but thats far, far behind us now. I feel crippling anxiety and shame every day for having to do the simplest things. Riding the train, feeling tired, and hell, even eating. My last thought before dying was that maybe in the next life I could be thinner.

Here I am now, staring at myself in the mirror. My skin is blue, I have stripes, and Lord, what a fatass I feel like. Why couldn't Parker or whoever's in charge of Project Phoenix just let me live in peace for once? My teammates are standing behind me as I examine my new teeth, tail, and my new skin. How big of a hospital gown did they have to make for me? I should apologize for this. I should apologize for having been brought back. Nobody wants a fat girl on their team. Nobody likes a fat girl. Nobody cares about fat girls. My thoughts run rampant through my head as I start to zone out.

"Hey, Y/N, you good? I know it's a little weird at first..." Lyle asks. I snap out of it and start to walk towards the door. I ask for someone to take me to my room, and so they escort me to my new place. It's very nice. They give me a lot of clothes and tell me to get comfortable because I'll be here awhile.

I get changed and explore my room. It's well lit, and when the lights are off, you can barely see anything. That's good for sleep. The bed is soft and it is comfortable.

When I get settled, the first number I call is my best friend. I tell her about how I just got resurrected and she asks how I feel.

"Fucking horrible. My body is still as fat if not fatter than it was before, my hair is messy, my skin is blue now, I have a weird tail and sharp teeth, and I just want to die again. I would like to die over and over again until they bring me back in at least a smaller body."

My friend tries to comfort me but her advice just doesn't do the trick this time. I tell her I gotta unpack and get situated. We say goodbye and I hang up.

Fuck, why did they have to do this to me?

---

I hear a knock at the door. I roll my eyes, making a game out of guessing who wants to talk to me now. I open the door, seeing my old friend, Alicia Zdinarsk. I invite her in and she offers to help me unpack. I accept her offer, and as we unpack, she tells me how weird it was for her to wake up blue as well. I wanted to shout IT'S NOT THE BLUE! IT'S NOT THE TAIL, NOT THE TEETH, NOTHING LIKE THAT! but I held back. I can't argue without crying anyway.

"Hey, you okay? You kind of zoned out in the wakeup room." Z says. I reply, "Yeah, it's just I really wish they revived me in a smaller body. I don't know how they expect a fat girl to-"

"No. You're not gonna call yourself fat as an insult. You're so awesome, and I cannot imagine being here again without you. Sure, people on Earth might've hated fat people, but we're not on Earth anymore. And last time I checked, we all love you just as you are. You don't need to change anything about you. We love you more than you could ever imagine, okay?" Z said. I was stunned. "Okay." I replied. I was always amazed by their collective love for me, but I never thought it was as deep as this. Nobody has ever told me they love me in the way Z just did, let alone a whole team of soldiers.

"Hello?? Y/N, Z??? You in there??? Mansk is making cocktails for us and I want us all to be there when we get drunk and grind-y tonight!" Lyle yelled through the door, banging on it as he did so. "Lyle, we're gonna head over in a second! For right now, keep it in your pants!" Z yelled back. I chuckled as we finished the last box of stuff. I could hear Lyle make a noise of disappointment outside, not wanting to wait any longer. I rolled my eyes and looked into Z's deeply, before pulling her in for a little kiss. She returned it, and we hugged until Lyle came banging on the door again.

"Can we at least watch a movie in the meantime??"

MWAH hope yall enjoyed!! @dyingofcookies thought you would like this :3 💋💋

[cincinnatusvirtue]

Countries that are no more: Republic of Venice (697AD-1797AD)

The first in a series I hope to feature on providing high level overviews of countries that existed and were influential to history or obscure and lost to most memory in time. The first up is the Republic of Venice.

Name: Serenisma Republega de Venesia (Venetian). In English this translates to the state's official name The Most Serene Republic of Venice. Also referred to as the Venetian Republic, Republic of Venice or just Venice.

Language: The official languages were the Romance languages of Latin, Venetian & later Italian. The regional dialect of Vulgar Latin in Northeastern Italy known as Veneto was the original language of Venice. This evolved in Venetian which was attested to as a distinct language as early as the 13th century AD. Venetian became the official language and lingua franca of the everyday Venetians and across parts of the Mediterranean although Latin would still be used in official documents and religious functions. Overtime, modern Italian was spoken in Venice though the Venetian language remains technically a separate language in Italy's Veneto region and the surrounding areas to this day.

Minority languages across the republic's territory included various Romance languages such as Lombard, Friulian, Ladin, Dalmatian and non-romance languages such as Albanian, Greek & Serbo-Croatian.

Territory: The republic was centered on the city of Venice founded in the Venetian lagoon on the north end of the Adriatic Sea to the northeast coast of the Italian peninsula. It also included the surrounding regions of mainland northeast Italy in the regions of Veneto and Friuli and parts of Lombardy. This became known as the terraferma or the mainland holdings of the republic. It also possessed overseas holdings in modern day Croatia, Slovenia, Montenegro, Albania, Greece & Cyprus.

Symbols & Mottos: The main symbol of Venice was its flag which had the famed Winged Lion of St. Mark. This represented the republic's patron saint, St. Mark. Mark the Evangelist after whom the Gospel of Mark in the New Testament in the Bible is named. Mark's body and holy relics were taken by Venice and said to be housed in the Basilica di San Marco (St. Mark's Basilica) in Venice itself. Variations of this flag differed during times of peace & war. During peace the winged lion is seen holding an open book and during war flags depicted the lion with its paw upon a bible and an upright sword held in another paw.

The republic's motto in Latin was "Pax tibi Marce, evangelista meus" or in English "Peace be to you Mark, my evangelist."

Religion: Roman Catholicism was the official religion of the state but Venice did have minorities of Eastern Orthodox & Protestant (usually foreign) Christian denominations at times in its territory and it also had small populations of Jews and Muslims to be found in Greek and Albanian territories during the wars with the Ottoman Empire.

Currency: Venetian ducat and later the Venetian lira.

Population: Though population varied overtime for the republic due to a variety of factors such as war & changing territory and disease & its subsequent effects. There was rough population recorded of 2.3 million people across all of its holdings in the mid sixteenth century (circa 1550-1560). The vast majority of its population was found in the terraferma of northern Italy and the city of Venice itself with its concentrated population on the islands within the Venetian Lagoon. The Greek island of Crete and the island of (Greek speaking) Cyprus were the most populous overseas possessions of the republic's territory. The rest of the population was found its various holdings in the Balkans mostly along the Adriatic coastline.

Government: The republic followed a complex mixed model of government. Essentially it could be characterized as a mixed parliamentary constitutional republic with a mercantile oligarchy ruling over it in practice. It had no formal written constitution, and this led to a degree of evolution without exactly defined roles often in reaction to happenings in its history. The resulting government became more complex overtime as institutions became increasingly fragmented in their size, scope and duties, some almost obsolete but still retained and others not fully defined. Yet, the republic managed to function quite well for most of its history. It incorporated elements of oligarchy, monarchy & limited democracy.

It's head of state and government was known as the Doge which is akin to the term of Duke. Though this similarity of name ends there. The Doge was neither similar to a duke in the modern sense nor was it meant as a hereditary position. The doge was rather a lifetime appointment much like the Pope for the Roman Catholic Church. Furthermore, doges were elected by the ruling elite of Venice, namely its wealthy oligarchy merchant class. The doge didn't have well defined & precise powers throughout the republic's 1,100-year history. It varied from great autocracy in the early parts of the republic to increasing regulation and restriction by the late 13th century onward. Though the doge always maintained a symbolic and ceremonial role throughout the republic's history. Some doges were forcibly removed from power and post-1268 until a new doge could be elected, the republic's rule transferred to the most senior ducal counsellor with the style of "vicedoge". After a doge's death following a commission was formed to study the doge's life and review it for moral and ethical transgressions and placed judgment upon him posthumously. If the commission found the deceased doge to have transgressed, his estate could be found liable and subject to fines. The doge was given plenty of ceremonial roles such as heading the symbolic marriage of Venice to the sea by casting a marriage ring into the sea from the doge's barge (similar to a royal yacht). Additionally, the doge was treated in foreign relations akin to a prince. It's titles and styles include "My Lord the Doge", "Most Serene Prince" and "His Serenity". The doge resided in the ducal palace (Palazzo Ducale) or Doge's Palace on the lagoonfront in Venice next St. Mark's Basilica and St. Mark's Square.

While the doge remained the symbolic and nominal head of the government, the oligarchy remained supreme overall. The supreme political organ was the 480-member Great Council. This assembly elected many of the office holders within the republic (including the doge) and the various senior councils tasked with administration, passing laws and judicial oversight. The Great Council's membership post 1297 was restricted to an inheritance by members of the patrician elite of the city of Venice's most noble families recorded in the famed Golden Book. This was divided between the old houses of the republic's earliest days and newer mercantile families if their fortunes should attain them property ownership and wealth. These families usually ranged between 20-30 total. They were socially forbidden from marrying outside their class & usually intermarried for political and economic reasons. Their economic concerns were chief to the whole of the republic and most centered on Eurasian & African trade throughout the Mediterranean Sea's basin. Members of these families served in the military and eventually rose to prominent positions of administration throughout the republic.

The Great Council overtime circumscribed the doge's power by creating councils devoted to oversight of the doge or executive and administrative functions (similar to modern executive cabinets or departments) whereas the doge became more and more a ceremonial role. The also created a senate which handled daily legislation. They also created a Council of Ten set to have authority over all government action. Other bodies were formed from this Great Council and others overtime. This resulted in intricate and overlapping yet separate bodies which found themselves subject to limitations with various checks on virtually each other's power. Essentially running as committees or sub-committees with checks on another committee's powers. These bodies weren't always completely defined in their scope and overtime their complexity led to battles to limit other's power (with limited success) along with gradual obsolescence and sometimes slow grinding administration.

Military: The military of Venice consisted of a relatively small army and a powerful navy. The famed Venetian Arsenal in Venice proper was essentially a complex of armories and shipyards to build and arm Venice's navy. The arsenal in Venice has the capacity to mass produce ships and weapons in the Middle Ages, centuries before the Industrial Revolution allowed for modern mass production in economic and military applications. Venice's military was designed towards protecting it possessions both in Italy and its overseas territories. The primary concern was to secure Venice's trade routes to the rest of Europe as well as Asia & Africa. It faced opponents' overtime ranging from the Franks, the Byzantine Empire, Bulgarians to other Italian city-states, France, Austria, the Ottoman Empire and Barbary Corsairs along with European pirates in the Adriatic and Mediterranean. It played key roles as a naval transport in other powers including throughout the Crusades. It also played a key role in the infamous Fourth Crusade which culminated in the Sack of Constantinople in 1204 AD, an event which fractured the Byzantine Empire into a half-century of civil war between successor states before a weakened revival in the mid 13th century. The Byzantine Empire would linger until the 15th century when the Ottoman Empire finally conquered its last remaining portions. Many attribute this loss to in part to its weakness still resulting from that 1204 sack lead by Venice. The Venetian military would exist until the republic's end when The French Republic's Army of Italy under Napoleon Bonaparte conquered the republic, a conquest in which the Venetians surrendered without a proper fight.

Economy: Venice's economy was based largely in trade. Namely control over the salt trade. Venice was to control salt (preservative of food) production and trade throughout the Mediterranean. It also traded in commodities associated with the salt trade routes to Eurasia and Africa. These commodities could include other foodstuffs (grains, meats & cheeses), textiles & glassware among other items.

Lifespan: 697AD-1797AD. Though the exact founding of Venice itself hasn't been determined. It is traditionally said to have taken place in the year 421 AD. At a time when Roman citizens in northeast Italy were escaping waves of Germanic & Hunnic barbarian invasions that contributed to the collapse of the Western Roman Empire. The going theory is that these Romans evaded barbarian attacks by building their homes in the Venetian Lagoon by hammering wood stakes to form a foundation which sunk into the muddy shallows and petrified. Upon which they built their homes and created a cityscape marked by streets and canals interlaced. Venice remained a community of fishermen and merchants and was nominally under the control of the surviving Eastern Roman Empire (Byzantine Empire). It avoided barbarians overrunning the land but also was removed enough from Constantinople that it was relatively autonomous and became strategically important as a port. Other islands in the lagoon also banded together with Venice in a loose confederation of sorts by the 6th and 7th centuries which increased economic productivity and security for the city. The first doge was said to have been elected in 697 AD under the name Paolo Lucio Anafesto, though there is dispute about his historicity. Anafesto supposedly ruled until 717 AD. This is traditionally regarded as the foundation of the Republic of Venice.

Venice's third doge was Orso Ipato who reigned from 726-737 and he is the first undisputed historically recorded doge whose existence was confirmed. Orso also known as Ursus was known to strengthen the city's navy and army to protect it from the Lombard Germanic invaders who had overrun and ruled Italy by that time. Though nominally part of the Byzantine Empire, by 803, the Byzantine Emperors are said to have recognized Venice's de-facto independence. Though this view is disputed somewhat, it nevertheless remained virtually independent until its collapse in 1797.

Venice also partook in the slave trade of non-Christian European populations from Eastern Europe and transferred them to North Africa, selling them to the Arab and Berber (Moors) of the Islamic world.

As the 9th century progressed, the Venetian navy secured the Adriatic and various trade routes by defeating Slavic and Muslim pirates in the region. The Venetians also went onto battle the Normans who settled in southern Italy and Sicily in the 11th century.

Venice provided naval transports for Crusaders from Western Europe starting with the successful First Crusade.

The High Middle Ages (1000AD-1350AD) saw the wealth and expansion Venice increase dramatically. However, over this period Venice gradually came into mixed relations with its former ruler the Byzantine Empire. The Byzantine Empire endured corruption, civil war and foreign invasion which saw it alternate between periods of waning power and restored power. Venice provided the Byzantines with an increased naval force when needed and many trading commodities. In exchange for this, Venice was granted trading rights within Byzantine territory and a place within the "Latin Quarter" for Western Europeans in Constantinople. The Byzantine populace though calling themselves "Romans" having taken on the political & cultural institutions of the Roman Empire which lived on in the East long after the Western half's collapse, were in fact mostly Greek by ethnicity, language and culture. Their religion was the Eastern Orthodox or Greek Orthodox branch of Christianity which was often at odds with Roman Catholics of Western Europe. Resentment at the religious and cultural differences along with the economic displacement the Venetians and other Italian merchants from Genoa & Pisa had caused in Constantinople's maritime & financial sectors contributed to the 1182 "Massacre of the Latins" in which the Byzantine Greek majority of the city rioted and slaughtered much of the 60,000 mostly Italian Catholics living within the city. Thousands were also sold into slavery to the Anatolian Seljuk Turks.

This event lingered in Venice's memory as its trade in the city was reduced for awhile. Though trade resumed between the Byzantines and the West again shortly thereafter, the event soured the perception of the Greeks to Western Europeans. This along with a subsequent power struggle for the throne of the Eastern Roman Emperor fell into Venice & Western Crusader's hands in 1202. Looking to originally ferry Western Crusaders to the Levant against the Islamic Ayyubid Sultanate of Egypt & Syria. Events transpired that devolved into Venice conspiring under its doge Enrico Dandalo along with other Western leaders and a Byzantine claimant to the throne that resulted in the first successful sacking of Constantinople in 1204. The city was ransacked, some Greek citizens murdered by the Crusaders & classical works of art destroyed or looted (most famously the four bronze horses of St. Marks in Venice) and politically, the Byzantine Empire would be temporarily fractured between competing Greek dynasties while the Crusaders along with Venice created the short-lived Latin Empire, which controlled Constantinople and its environs while Venice also acquired Greek territories which it was to hold for centuries. Venice also came into conflict with the Second Bulgarian Empire at this time as its support of the Latin Empire of Constantinople encroached on the Bulgarian's land. Eventually by the mid 13th century the Latin Empire (never fully stable) collapsed, and the Byzantine Empire was restored until the mid-15th century but forever weakened as a result of the 1204 sacking of its capital.

Venice reached trade deals with the Mongol Empire in 1221. As the century wore on, it also engaged its rival in Western Italy Genoa in some warfare.

The 14th century is generally regarded as Venice at its peak as it faced down Genoa in a number of battles and came to be the most dominant trading power in the Mediterranean, though it was impacted by the Black Death plague. Nevertheless, into the 15th and even 16th centuries, it partook in a number of wars which saw it gain territory on the Italian mainland, establishing its terraferma domain.

By the 16th late 15th and into the 16th century new threats had emerged such as the Turkish Ottoman Empire. The Ottoman capture of Constantinople in 1453 is seen as the end of the Middle Ages as the last political vestiges of the Roman Empire vanished from the world stage. However, a number of Byzantine Greeks escaped on Italian ships during the conquest of the city and others escaped Greece in subsequent years. These refugees brought with them artistic and cultural heritages that reemphasized the classical forms of Ancient Greece and Rome and lead to the Italian Rennaisance in art & other forms of culture. Ideas which emphasized humanism and spread to elsewhere in Europe overtime.

While there was a cultural flourishing in Venice and elsewhere due to the Rennaisance. There was also the first signs of economic and political decline as well from the 16th century onwards. The Ottoman dominance in the Eastern Mediterranean meant the traditional trade routes to the East were cut off by an often-hostile Muslim power. Additionally, other maritime powers in the West namely Spain & Portugal had recently begun exploring the continents of South & North America and in time France, England & the Netherlands would join in them. This decline in Eastern trade and the newfound trade routes dominated by other European states in the Americas and Asia (by way of rounding Africa) would render trade with Venice gradually obsolete. Venice would still maintain what trade it could in the Mediterranean, but it also focused on production and placed increasing importance on its Italian mainland possessions rather than just its declining position overseas in Greek territories, including the loss of Cyprus to the Ottomans in 1571. Though the Venetian navy with other Christian powers won the notable naval victory against the Ottomans in 1570 at Lepanto.

It was also involved in the Italian Wars between various rival city states and the power struggle between the Papacy, France and the Hapsburg realms of the Holy Roman Empire and Spain.

Other factors that impacted the declining trade in the 17th century included an inability to keep up in the textile trade elsewhere in Europe, closure of the spice trade to all but the Spanish, Dutch, Portuguese, French and English and the Thirty Years War (1618-1648) which impacted Venice's trade partners.

Ongoing wars including a 21-year siege of Crete by the Ottomans saw further losses. Although Venice partook in the Holy League headed by the Holy Roman Empire (under Hapsburg Austria) which saw some minor temporary gains from the Ottomans in southern Greece before losing them again in the early 18th century.

War and loss of overseas territories along with a stagnant economy was slightly offset by a somewhat strong position in northern Italy. Nevertheless, its maritime fleet was reduced to a mere shadow of its former glory and it found itself sandwiched still between Austria and France. Over the rest of the 18th century, economic stagnation and social stratification remained prevalent while Venice remained in a quiet peace. However, the French Revolution reignited war in Italy and while Venice remained neutral, it would soon get caught up in events.

The Austrians and the Piedmontese (Italian) allies were beaten by the French Republic's Army of Italy headed by an up-and-coming general named Napoleon Bonaparte. Bonaparte and the French army crossed the borders of northern Italy into Venetian neutral territory to pursue the Austrians. Eventually half of Venice's territory was occupied by France and the remainder of the mainland was occupied by Austria. By secret treaty the French and Austrians were to divide the territory between themselves (Venice was consulted in the matter). Bonaparte gave orders to Venetian doge Ludovico Manin to surrender the city to French occupation to which he abdicated his power. The republic's Major Council met one last time to officially declare an end to republic on May 12th, 1797, after 1,100 years. Venice was placed under a provisional government and ironically the French looted Venice stripping it of artworks to grace the Louvre Museum in Paris along with the Arc d'Triomphe, taking the famed four bronze horses of St. Mark's to adorn the triumphal arch in Paris, the very same horses Venice had confiscated from Constantinople in 1204. It was a symbolic end to the republic, the irony of which did not escape commentators at the time. Following Napoleonic France's final defeat in 1815 the horses were returned to Venice and St. Mark's where they remain today. Venice itself was given over to the Austrian Empire.

The Republic of Venice has a historical legacy in terms of its economic accomplishments through control of trade and its innovative mass production of ships, armaments & trade commodities. It also holds a political legacy worthy of study given it was a unique and enduring polity for 1,100 years. One that maintained a complex and at times chaotic form of government that still managed to function and endure for centuries.

[synergysilhouette]

Plotting out "Rainstar" (Disney movie)

Make sure to check out the post summarizing my various posts from the fanmade Disney Resurgence Era here (and I'll probably edit it to fit my fleshed-out posts).

Background: Despite somewhat fatigue of superhero films, several projects are brought to Disney's attention, though they are quick to shoot down any comic adaptations, preferring to do original ideas in contrast to "Big Hero 6." Eventually they settle on a pitch for a superhero film with a female lead that takes inspiration from the many 90s superhero shows. Disney is interested by this, particularly since "The Incredibles" is inspired by mid 20-century comics and most superhero films (live-action and animated) are usually placed in present-day. The setting is unique enough while still being accessible and engaging for many of their audience members. That said, despite the "retro" setting, many influences during production were taken from 21st century comics and comic-inspired materials. Interestingly, the pitch comes with an addendum: possibly making it a musical. The idea of a superhero musical is almost immediately dismissed, as the styles are too different from each other, but an alternate suggestion is made instead of a traditional music format: crafting a soundtrack that's played during the film, similar to "Black Panther" and "Suicide Squad." This is also something Disney did with "Tarzan." It's an iffy idea, particularly because the film is relatively modern, and the radio-friendly sound the soundtrack would have is likely seen as a cash-grab move. While they consider using Moss and Marlow again after "Midnight Masquerade," they eventually they agree to the proposed option instead (partially due to it being mentioned how Disney already enlisted the help of Beyonce and Kendrick Lamar for "Khoeli, which ended up being a big success), but another problem comes to mind: who should be part of the team, including the music. The thought of Brad Bird directing is quickly dropped, and they come to the conclusion to choose a female director--especially since this era hasn't had any yet--with Jennifer Lee writing the script (and significant contributions from Joss Whedon), and several artists being reached out to to help craft a soundtrack. The film goes over many, many, many changes in story, tone, and characters, until eventually becoming "Rainstar." One of them is the decision to take inspiration from the "Arkham" Batman video games and make the events of the film occur all in one night instead of over the course of several weeks.

(Note: I didn't decide on a director because there's a bit of a shortage of female directors for animated films, and I wasn't sure which one would fit the bill, live-action or otherwise, though I had an idea or two.)

Plot

In the early 90s, the city of Phoenix Crown took to the world stage as a lively, bustling town of ingenuity and culture. More than that, it became notorious for an unprecedented uptick in crime, and an unusual one at that. Superheroes and supervillains are no longer just whispers on the street; they live and embody the chaos of the city, and the future of what could become the greatest city in the United States rests on the shoulders of who can restore the peace.

Characters

Rainstar--A young woman who grew up in a somewhat selfish family (inspired by sitcoms such as "Married With Children" and Seth MacFarlane cartoons, albeit not quite as self-destructive), the woman who would become Rainstar was selfish and vapid, not particularly interested in anything other than herself. However, following some, ahem, complications after moving to the city of Phoenix Crown, she became endowed with impeccable strength, athlete-level speed, combustion, and durability that's made her something of an extemophile. While she originally planned to find a way to financially benefit from these newfound abilities, saving the lives of people one day gained her instant fame, which she adored. With time, this adoration turned to duty, and she became a fixture in the major city as crime experienced a surge in the coming years. With a sense of humor, a positive attitude, and a strong will, she's a credit to the city--even if not everyone agrees.

Her personality is highly derived from Marvel superhero She-Hulk, as well as several iconic female characters from various comic books, video games, and anime. For her stylized design, her appearance is heavily derived from distinct pop stars.

Sundial--A young scientist who is fascinated with superpowers. After wrongly being terminated by a corrupt superior, he took the situation in stride and built his own laboratory with loyal personnel. He eventually discovered that some individuals have a "superhero gene," and while his contemporaries had expected him to monetize it, he decides to bring out the gene in himself, and succeeding. While not an overwhelming power, his healing factor is something highly useful, and one he keeps secret. With time, he becomes equally philosophical and insane, questioning the purpose of humanity and seeing himself as "the great scientist" who is to discover the secrets of life. As such, he occasionally puts on his own costume to kidnap unsuspecting victims, with his acrobatic ability making it quite easy to evade unwanted attention and capture his prey as he sees fit. Rainstar isn't a killer and she believes that Sundial is as a danger to himself, and that he could really make a difference in the medical field if he wasn't...unwell. This may be fueled by the fact that despite his cruelty, he's often kind and polite, and his interest in human nature has a somewhat childlike sense of wonder.

Despite the clandestine business, his costume is neon, like the lights of the city at night. Ironically, him matching the scene makes his otherwise loud appearance blend in.

Glasseye--An aspiring psychologist, the young man who would become Glasseye was born and raised in Phoenix Crown, and was heavily inspired by Rainstar. He had no intentions on becoming a hero of course, preferring the more domestic way of helping people via her future profession. However, he is one of the few people whose supernatural ability manifested itself naturally in the form of telekinesis and telepathy that occasionally manifests itself in cognitive inducement (at which point his eyes take a glassy shine to them). Eventually, he accidentally probes Rainstar's mind and discovers her identity, and she suggests an infrequent collaboration, to which he reluctantly agrees due to wanting to help others and her connections to higher-ups. He's typically seen as her "nerdy" counterpart, but he's got a big brain and is cautious where she's bold. They make a great team, but they make even better friends.

Dangerprone--Another "villain" (as most of Phoenix Crown would call it) of Phoenix Crown, she has the ability to teleport, though she's also a skilled martial artist, so...watch out for that. She's alluring but upfront, and is in a temporary partnership with Sundial. She's a wild card to his more methodical way of doing things, but she has morals and standards. In a way, she's essentially what Rainstar would've become if she hadn't become a hero. She wants to run the city that's a focal point of technology and power, as she's very aware that she who conquers that City of Dreams conquers the world.

Songs

(For once I didn't make a song list since not all of them would be tied to the story and would mainly just work for the worldbuilding/overall narrative. Maybe I'll come back and add some, though).

Lemme know what you think! I DESPERATELY want Disney to make a superhero musical, so this was an idea I had for a while. Only three more films left for the "Reinvention" era!

[ndm1717]

hogwarts houses as types of academia

gryffindor: light academia:

Reading: Engaging in reading classic literature, poetry, and philosophical works. This includes works by authors such as Shakespeare, Jane Austen, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Virginia Woolf, and many others.

Writing: Writing poetry, journal entries, essays, or even creating fictional stories. Embracing the act of writing as a means of self-expression and intellectual exploration.

Study sessions: Spending time in cozy, book-filled spaces to study or discuss academic topics with friends. This could involve reading groups, literary discussions, or even collaborative projects.

Visiting libraries and bookstores: Exploring libraries and bookshops, reveling in the atmosphere of knowledge and discovery. Browsing through old, weathered books and discovering hidden literary gems.

Art appreciation: Visiting art galleries and museums to admire classical artworks and contemplate their meanings. Drawing, painting, or sketching as a form of self-expression or relaxation.

Intellectual discussions: Engaging in deep conversations about literature, philosophy, history, or any other intellectual pursuits. Exchanging ideas and perspectives with like-minded individuals.

Tea and coffee rituals: Enjoying a cup of tea or coffee while reading, writing, or engaging in intellectual discussions. Embracing the cozy and contemplative atmosphere these beverages provide.

Nature walks: Taking leisurely walks in natural settings such as parks, gardens, or countryside areas. Appreciating the beauty of nature and finding inspiration in the peaceful surroundings.

Vintage fashion: Embracing classic and timeless fashion styles inspired by the early to mid-20th century. This may include tweed jackets, cardigans, vintage dresses, Oxford shoes, and accessories like bowties or berets.

Academic pursuits: Pursuing academic interests through formal education, self-study, or research. Embracing a lifelong love of learning and intellectual curiosity.

slytherin: chaotic academia:

Exploring Esoteric Topics: Chaotic academics often find themselves drawn to obscure and esoteric subjects that may not be part of mainstream academia. This could include anything from ancient mythology to quantum physics to postmodern literature.

Creating Artistic Mashups: The aesthetic of chaotic academia involves blending different artistic styles, mediums, and influences to create unique works of art. This could mean mixing classical paintings with modern graffiti or combining poetry with experimental music.

Hosting Salon-style Gatherings: Instead of traditional academic conferences or seminars, chaotic academics may prefer hosting informal gatherings or salons where ideas are freely exchanged over cups of tea or glasses of wine. These events often encourage interdisciplinary discussions and creative collaborations.

Experimenting with Fashion: Chaotic academia embraces a diverse range of fashion styles that reflect the individuality and eccentricity of its practitioners. This could include vintage clothing, thrift store finds, and DIY creations, all mixed together in unexpected combinations.

Engaging in Performance Art: Performance art is a common form of expression within chaotic academia, allowing practitioners to explore complex ideas and emotions through live performance. This could involve anything from avant-garde theater to interactive installations to spoken word poetry.

Creating Zines and DIY Publications: Zines are small, self-published magazines that often feature personal essays, artwork, and other creative content. Chaotic academics may produce zines as a way to share their ideas and connect with like-minded individuals outside of traditional academic channels.

Participating in Protest and Activism: Chaotic academia is often intertwined with social and political activism, with practitioners using their knowledge and creativity to advocate for change. This could involve participating in protests, organizing community events, or using art as a form of resistance.

Exploring Alternative Lifestyles: Chaotic academics may embrace unconventional lifestyles that prioritize creativity, self-expression, and personal growth over traditional notions of success or stability. This could include living in intentional communities, practicing minimalism, or pursuing nomadic lifestyles.

ravenclaw: dark academia:

Reading Classic Literature: Engage in reading classic literature from authors such as Fyodor Dostoevsky, Edgar Allan Poe, or Oscar Wilde. Dark academia enthusiasts often prioritize literature that explores themes of existentialism, tragedy, and the human condition.

Visiting Libraries and Bookstores: Spend time in old, atmospheric libraries and bookstores, surrounded by towering shelves of books. Delve into dusty volumes and lose yourself in the scent of aged paper and leather bindings.

Writing: Embrace writing as a form of self-expression. Keep a journal, write poetry, or work on a novel. Dark academia often celebrates the act of writing as a way to grapple with complex emotions and ideas.

Exploring History and Philosophy: Dive into the depths of history and philosophy, exploring ancient civilizations, political theories, and ethical dilemmas. Engage in deep discussions and debates with fellow enthusiasts.

Attending Lectures and Cultural Events: Attend lectures, seminars, and cultural events such as art exhibitions, theater performances, and classical music concerts. Immerse yourself in intellectual discourse and appreciate the beauty of human creativity.

Studying in Old Buildings and Cafés: Find a quiet corner in an old university building or atmospheric café to study or work on academic pursuits. Surround yourself with the ambiance of stained glass windows, creaky wooden floors, and dim lighting.

Wearing Vintage and Classic Clothing: Embrace a wardrobe inspired by vintage and classic styles, featuring tailored blazers, tweed jackets, turtleneck sweaters, and pleated skirts. Incorporate accessories like leather satchels, fountain pens, and round glasses to complete the look.

Exploring Gothic Architecture and Landscapes: Wander through gothic cathedrals, ivy-covered university buildings, and sprawling estates with overgrown gardens. Dark academia aesthetics often draw inspiration from the haunting beauty of gothic architecture and landscapes.

Creating Art and Music: Express your creativity through art, music, or other forms of artistic expression. Experiment with drawing, painting, photography, or playing musical instruments to capture the essence of dark academia.

Engaging in Thoughtful Reflection: Take time for introspection and self-reflection, pondering life's existential questions and grappling with the complexities of the human experience. Embrace solitude as a means of deepening your understanding of yourself and the world around you.

hufflepuff: cottagecore academia:

Reading Retreats: Creating cozy reading nooks filled with vintage books, plush cushions, and warm blankets. Spend hours immersed in literature, from classic novels to poetry and philosophy.

Nature Walks and Studies: Take leisurely strolls through meadows, forests, and gardens to observe plants, animals, and landscapes. Keep journals to document your observations and sketches of flora and fauna.

Herbalism and Botany: Learn about medicinal plants and their uses, cultivate a small herb garden, and experiment with herbal remedies and teas. Incorporate botanical illustrations into your study materials and decorate your space with pressed flowers and botanical prints.

Arts and Crafts: Explore traditional handicrafts such as knitting, embroidery, quilting, and pottery. Create beautiful handmade items inspired by nature and rustic living, adding a personal touch to your surroundings.

Cooking and Baking: Embrace the joy of home cooking using fresh, seasonal ingredients. Experiment with heirloom recipes and traditional cooking methods, preserving jams and pickles, and baking rustic bread and pastries.

Philosophical Discussions: Engage in deep conversations about ethics, spirituality, and the human condition. Host intimate gatherings with friends or participate in online forums to exchange ideas and perspectives.

Musical Pursuits: Learn to play musical instruments such as the piano, violin, or acoustic guitar. Practice folk tunes, classical compositions, or create your own melodies inspired by nature and the countryside.

Writing and Journaling: Keep a reflective journal to record thoughts, experiences, and observations. Explore creative writing through poetry, short stories, or essays inspired by the natural world and your personal journey.

Historical Research: Delve into the history of rural life, folklore, and traditional crafts. Visit local museums, libraries, and archives to uncover the stories and traditions of past generations.

Sustainability and Self-Sufficiency: Embrace sustainable living practices such as composting, recycling, and reducing waste. Learn practical skills like gardening, food preservation, and DIY home repairs to foster self-sufficiency and minimize your ecological footprint.

[abeautifulblog]

(Leslie Fish - "Dane-Geld")

ROFL, I love it. 🤣 This is so fuckin catchy, I am beyond delighted that this song exists. Thank you for introducing this to my life, friendo. 🙏

But also: lol Kipling was so full of shit.

And apologies, but you have activated the hyperfixation, soooo...

--

DANEGELDS: WELL, AKSHUALLY---

or

DANEGELDS: I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED!

--

So, I should have been more clear in my last post: there's nothing inherently ¿🤨? about Burgred bribing vikings to go away, despite what the victorians would have you believe. Paying tribute to placate an aggressive foreign power was standard operating procedure in that era -- just one of the occasional costs of doing international politics.

I mean ffs, lol, THIS was the viking invasion of England:

Vikings land in Kent; Wessex pays them a danegeld to go away. Vikings go to East Anglia; East Anglia pays them a danegeld to go away. Vikings go to York; Northumbria tries to fight them and gets curb-stomped. Vikings go to Nottingham; Mercia pays them a danegeld to go away. Vikings go to Thetford; East Anglia tries to fight them and gets curb-stomped. Vikings go to Reading; Wessex gets curb-stomped for a bit and then pays them a danegeld to go away. Vikings go to London; Mercia pays them a danegeld to go away. Vikings go put down a revolt in Northumbria. Vikings go to Torksey; Mercia pays them a danegeld to go away…………….. but this time the vikings don't leave. (cue my fic)

(Really, Kipling? "We never pay anyone danegeld"?? Said no one ever. The mid ninth century is nothing but the Saxons playing hot potato with the vikings.)

The only ¿🤨? part about Nottingham was why Burgred bothered dragging the West Saxons out of bed to help him besiege the city, if he was just going to pay the vikings off without a single fight. Why assemble such a massive coalition army and then not use it? (That's what modern historians give him shit for, not the danegeld itself -- contrast this with how they tend to characterize Alfred's danegeld, that yeah okay sure, he paid one too, but he made the vikings work for it first.) To me, it suggests that either something about the situation at Nottingham changed, that made fighting untenable, or that having the army was the point -- that it was part of Burgred's leverage for encouraging the Danes to take the payout and go, rather than deciding to keep the city like they'd done with York.

The point is, no one was under any illusions that danegelds would buy a permanent peace -- what they bought you was time. If you were genuinely unprepared to fight off a viking invasion, then paying the danegeld was your best option. (Even if it makes later historians big mad that you didn't go heroically stiff-upper-lip yourself into an early grave.) Yes, your economy will take a hit -- danegelds were not ""trifling"" -- but it'll recover faster from a danegeld than it will from having your armies decimated/crops burned/towns looted/peasants carted off into slavery.

Bribing vikings was a reliable way to make them go bother someone else for a few years, while you (theoretically) got your shit together so you'd be better prepared for the next time they circled back round. Paying a danegeld, in and of itself, was not a dumb or lazy or shameful move -- so long as you treated it like the temporary measure that it was, and followed up with stronger steps. Wessex did; they made good use of the time they bought, and consequently they withstood the next round of invasions. Mercia did not, or not good enough anyway, and that's a different story.

But that's not how Kipling and the victorians felt about it -- they fuckin H A A A A A T E D danegelds. 😂 It didn't vibe with the English Exceptionalism that they were attempting to manufacture, a version of history in which the English were a godly-heroic race of brave and brilliant white people who righteously deserved to take over the whole world. Danegelds were a very embarrassing thing to have to explain -- how could their illustrious ancestors have been so spineless that they'd let themselves get shaken down rather than fight? Or so STOOOOPID, because don't they know that "once you have paid him the Danegeld / You never get rid of the Dane"???? (And with the benefit of 20/20 hindsight, they could confidently say that paying danegelds had done Mercia and East Anglia no good.) It would have been far more palatable to their sensibilities if the Saxons had believed in death before danegeld.

But that's imposing an ahistorical set of values on the situation. There's nothing in the contemporary sources to indicate that the Saxons attached any particular shame or stigma to paying a tribute -- to the military defeats that had made it necessary, yeah absolutely, but not the payment itself.

In my opinion, what the Saxon kingdoms should be embarrassed about is not the danegelds, but how long it took them to get their shit together and recognize the vikings as a real threat, and then put aside their petty internecine squabbling to deal with it -- too long, for most of them, and too late by the time they did. It's depressingly familiar, to have one's society faced with an existential threat, while the people in power would rather use the opportunity to dunk on their political rivals than do anything about it. 😐