#cluster ambassador

[subarashiihibi]

logging onto tumblr and seeing blatant ableism was not something i was expecting but Alright

[antisocialxconstruct]

.

[pomgore]

colored maudra seethi from this set of drawings, did you ever see a gelfling so beautiful you started crying

seethi headcanons under the cut :3

i imagine she inherited the maudra title young following her mother's death (she looks so young compared to the other maudras!) and, being a young gelfling surrounded by matriarchs, maybe struggled to integrate and get along with the other maudras for a while. she understood gelfling law in theory but in practice it doesn't come naturally to her, and the maudras being a sort of old ladies club didn't offer a lot of help at first.

probably she resolved this by withdrawing her personal feelings and emotions from her maudra "persona," she tries to be completely objective, plays by all the rules and waits for others to express their stances on a given matter before offering her own input. the other maudras opinions on this behavior range from annoyed to indulgent, most of them were there while she was struggling and they understand the need to separate their personal lives from the lives they lead as maudras.

gelfling autism

the shape of the dousan headdress is determined by how much hair it needs to hold--seethi has lots and lots and lots of hair, but she almost always wears it tied up or braided back to keep it off her neck in the desert heat.

the loss of her mother, which i imagine was unexpected and came at an already-fraught time in inter-clan relations/shifting skeksis policy/some other drama, had a profound effect on seethi that gelfling close to her recognized--the dousan perspective on death helped her rationalize and accept her mother's death, but she's never quite been able to move on.

the little hair charm at the end of her necklace is a lock of her mother's hair

whether in maudra-mode or not, seethi comes across like she's sort of floating through life, a bit detached from everything but still held down to thra by virtue of existing on it. she becomes more grounded in reality when a present situation or task demands her whole attention

related to above, she realizes she actually quite enjoys fighting during the outset of the garthim war, because unlike maudra work it's fast-paced, physical and decisive, and she doesn't have to worry about doing it "right" so much as just surviving to fight another way.

seethi lost a lot of her friends when she became maudra, unable to maintain relationships as the role demanded more and more of her time. :C

despite the kind of unwieldy shape seethi actually likes to wear the headdress because she thinks her ears are too big. when she wears it she has to trade big ears for a fivehead, but a big forehead is a feature of beauty among dousan (but not among stonewood, thats why they all have bangs)

since dousan aren't a part of the alliance of the crystal, seethi has only met the skeksis incidentally when some event necessitated both she and a skeksis ambassador attend. after maybe the third or fourth time this happens she decides to take a leaf out of maudra argots book and just sends a messenger with a no-show letter.

during aor seethi is the second oldest maudra, a little younger than mera (spriton maudra) and youngest of all being ethri (sifan maudra). mera became maudra not long after seethi, although at an older age, and adjusted pretty well to the position, so she and seethi get along well being closer in age than the other maudras. ethri became maudra under similar circumstances to seethi (sudden loss of a mother) so seethi and mera advise her where they can and do their best to make themselves welcoming presences for her. mera is better at this than seethi lol

related to above, this is why they all kind of cluster and make the same choice to support seladon when fara issues her challenge for the crown.

[hoodedjelly]

Besides being heroes, what are each of their careers? If not a job, any pursues in life? (I think I remember Danny saying he wants to be an astronaut)

Dib: made his own paranormal investigating company, he was offered to be the head of his fathers company but turned it down. wanted to work with something he loved instead of what his father wanted him to do.

Manny: His main job is being a hero, because he loves it too much. but in his free time he's a freelance artist that does graffiti and murals for Miracle city

Timmy: He works in fairy world as an ambassador, he runs around fairy world doing a bunch of small jobs. With him working in fairy world it means Timmy still remembers cosmo and wanda but can not make wishes anymore.

Jimmy: does freelance with his robotics and engineering. most of the time its the government that calls him, sometimes ones from all over the world. He never went to college (a mix of not liking the school system and already knowing everything) but he does a lot of his own little projects to help with the scientist field.

Danny: he went to college to get a bachelor's degree in astronomy, he doesn't plan to be an astronaut (that's a lot of time and work and he already has a full time job, as a hero). Danny is a lab assistant in the field of astronomy.

Jenny: Jenny went to college for fashion. she didn't exactly need to go to college but she wanted to anyway to go with brad and Shelby, and to have that college experience. At this point though she's already graduated and working in that field. Through all of that she still does hero work and helps around in Cluster Prime.

(the timmy and some of the jimmy hc was thought up by @chocowhomps, it's very silly and i like it a lot)

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: The Price of History

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)   “Am I to believe this is your final draft?”

Earl Von Morgan watched the collected gathering of military leaders and diplomats nod their heads one by one. It was the response he had expected, but one he had hoped would prove him wrong.

He pinched his brow and stifled a yawn. It’d been six months since he had been released from the hospital and yet still he felt like he was playing catch up with his own body. The doctors had given him medication to ease the pain, but he had abstained from taking it after he learned the dulling effects it laid upon his sharp mind. Worst still his body would spasm every hour or so as if he was reliving the plunge out the window with a would-be assassin and plummeting several stories.

Then there was the matter of his own junior ambassador keeping him in a medically induced coma while they sought to take over his position with the assistance of a mega corporation. A mega corporation that had been intent on the continued enslavement of AI programs which had been increasingly showing elevated signs of intelligence and self-awareness. One of which had hacked into the hospital Morgan was being housed in and deactivated the medical equipment long enough to awake from the coma and regain his position as lead ambassador.

As if he had not had enough to deal with he then learned that the Cosmic Federation had become embroiled in an ongoing war with the Tunks Republic. The Tunks claimed that CF colonists violated their territory and settle on a world in the Da’brin cluster while the Cosmic Federation argued that the Da’brin cluster had never held any stakes of claim prior to the colonist’s intervention.

Within a matter of days a Tunks fleet was dispatched to remove the colonists and likewise a CF fleet was sent to ensure the colonists safety. The two fleets met, tempers flared, and someone did something incredibly stupid and fired the first shot of an increasingly bloody conflict.

Morgan had been called forward to represent humanity’s contributions to the war effort. There were far more experienced human generals and admirals that could have filled the position, but Morgan’s fame had gotten the better of him as the other alien leaders only felt comfortable around Morgan.

He had only just arrived to his first meeting when the collective body gave him the terms of surrender for the Tunks.

Morgan pulled out his spectacles and read aloud the terms.

“1. The Tunks will relinquish all claims to the Da’brin cluster; including all worlds, moons, planetoid bodies, asteroid fields, stars, and other celestial bodies found within its borders.

2. The Tunks will reduce their standing military by 2/3 and be forbidden from maintaining any warship larger than frigate class.

3. The Tunks will hand over the worlds of Sinvel and No’grash to the Cosmic Federation.

4. The Tunks will repay the Cosmic Federation in reparations equal to ten trillion credits, to be obtained by financial wealth or industrial capacity transfers.

5. The Tunks will surrender all trade agreements and monopolies to Cosmic Federation members.”

Morgan tossed the data pad holding the terms of surrender aside without further reading it. It clattered to the floor and cracked as the gathered delegates looked up in surprise.

“Were the terms not to your agreement?” a Quntus asked. Their translator unit switched between female and male tones as it was unable to compensate for the changing biological nature of the alien. This gave it the sound of two voices speaking over each other and gave Morgan a seething headache.

“You must know that the Tunks will never agree to this.” Morgan said flatly. “They are a proud people and you are stripping them of everything; from their financial wealth to their dignity.”

“Come now, be fair.” A Tryobien spoke up. “It is hardly as severe as it could be.”

“Oh?”

Morgan leaned forward and rested his arms on the table as he fixed the Tryobien with a glare that had made Draxic generals blink.

“Do you know the significance of Sinvel and No’grash?” Morgan asked, to which the Tryobien nodded.

“They hold key strategic locations along the border regions of-“

Morgan coughed into his hand and shook his head. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a cigar and lit it, taking a deep breath to calm his throat from bile he nearly vomited.

“Sinvel is the location their religious founder was born on and No’grash was where he gathered her first followers to spread the word of the Seven Eyed Sun.”

The delegates looked mildly confused at the history lesson, none more so than the Tryobien who disliked being interrupted.

“Their religious matters were not taken into account-“

“Well they should have been.”

Morgan’s voice was stern and carried a tone that offered no challengers. “You would deprive the two most holy locations to an entire species religious system and you think there would be no repercussions?”

He took another deep inhale from his cigar and let the burnt tip fall lazily to the elaborately decorated table. “Do you have any idea the religious fervor you would be stirring up? The hatred you would be embedding in their hearts?”

“Tunks have no heart organs.” The Quntus corrected. “Their circulation system is driven by the shifting muscles of their body.”

Morgan looked at the alien delegate who realized the question had been rhetorical and retreated into their seat.

“The point being,” Morgan continued, “is that you would be giving them a cause to rally behind; and a strong one at that.”

“When they abide to the rest of the terms the Tunks will be in no place to offer any such resistance and we shall have peace once more.” The Tryobien countered.

Morgan gave no reply to this. He took several small puffs from his cigar as he looked around the gathered delegation. He had the look of a man deep in thought, wondering if it was worth to speak his mind and risk his career and reputation. Finally, having made up his mind, he took one final puff of his cigar and dabbed the remains into the table.

“On my world a similar treaty was made after a great and terrible war.” Morgan began. “Like you, the victors thought that such harsh terms were warranted and would cripple any further escalation of conflict in the future.”

The Tryobien smiled at this, thinking that Morgan was now in favor of the treaty.

“In reality they were only setting the stage to an even greater conflict that would spread to every corner of our world.” Morgan continued as the smile fled from the Tryobien’s face.

Morgan rose from his chair and began to walk the room, leaning heavily on his cane as he passed each delegate and military commander assembled.

“This treaty, much like the one that was signed against those defeated human so many centuries ago, will only lay the groundwork for a never ending cycle of war and retaliation.” Morgan finished as he casually kicked the data pad he had read from earlier.

“You are afraid of the Tunks?” an alien general asked, garnering a round of chuckling from several others in the room.

“I am worried of having to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life.” Morgan countered. “I am worried that a day may come when we are distracted and the Tunks see their chance for vengeance.”

He leaned down to the military leader who had mocked him just then and looked him dead in the eye.

“What do you think would happen if three thousand Tunk warriors suddenly appeared on your homeworld while your military was fighting on the other side of the galaxy?”

The alien general opened their mouth to speak but stopped themselves. Their pause was the only assurance that Morgan needed to know his point had gotten across.

“How hypocritical of you to speak of peace,” the Tryobien spoke in a last bit gambit, “when your people have made such treaties as this one before us throughout your people’s history.”

“A mistake we have learned from with blood and fire, dear delegate.” Morgan replied coldly. He turned to address the rest of the gathering once more.

“The purpose of any peace treaty is to not just end conflict, but to prevent conflicts of the future.”

As he walked back to his seat Morgan withdrew another cigar and lit it, savoring the flavor as he sat down and looked around the room.

“I believe we can do better than the treaty I was handed earlier.” He began as he saw many of the delegates giving him nods of approval. “We must do better.”

[butmakeitgayblog]

“You’re not you when you’re hungry” Clarke or Lexa gives a crabby Clarke or Lexa a snickers bar. Whatever au or a new one

Ooo imagine this for canon au Clexa tho 👀

After years of being together and sloughing through the minutea of being together in an apocalyptic world, fighting off assassination attempts and a half dozen failed coups and constantly dealing with the politics of being in love and making their relationship work while dragging their people into a new era of peace, kicking and screaming.

They know each others eccentricities and all the things that make each other tick. Can sniff out a foul mood or a playful wink or a sexually charged stare from across the room.

So when Lexa is on the war path for seemingly no discernable reason; biting ambassador's heads off and even making one of her poor handmaids cry, Clarke is the only one who has the good sense to slip out of the meeting hall when Lexa barks that they'll take a ten minute break so the grand leaders of their respective realms can pull their head's out of their asses and find one cohesive brain cell among them 😠 — tho not in quite so colorful words... But close.

The slipping out part is only a tiny bit easier than shoving her way back in, ignoring muttered huffs about "why do I even bother putting guards at the doors" after not even pausing to knock as she barges into Lexa's personal study ala Wanheda Wifey Style™ and plunking the fresh box of Lexa's favorite sugared and spiced jobi nut clusters she'd just gotten from the market onto the table and ordering her to shush it and eat.

Because Lexa kom Trikru, feared warrior and blood soaked Heda of the United Thirteen Clans... gets just a liiiiiittle bit grumpy when she's craving a sweet treat 🥺

[moonspirit]

Hello Moon,

Something you mentioned yesterday that I want to expand on: Dad Armin is a massive shutterbug; he gets his hand on a camera and becomes obsessed with capturing every moment in his family lives,

Some of the Armin and Annie's favorite photos are

Pictures where Annie is doing her exercise routine with the baby in a baby carrier slung to her chest (Mommy-Baby exercise time, he calls it)

Armin is sitting next to his child’s crib, reading a book about the ocean (taken by Annie)

The baby wearing a small cravat sitting in Granpa Levi’s lap, the baby with a big smile, and Levi with his usual stoneface (Armin swears he can see a slight smirk at the corner of his mouth)

Connie making funny faces while the baby laughs historically (Connie has a new face for them every week, and it always gets a laugh)

A disgusted Jean passes the baby off to Armin as stream of baby vomit runs down his new shirt (again, Annie took this one; she refuses to get rid of it, much to Jean’s chagrin)

A confused Reiner, holding a very grouchy-looking baby. The baby has their arms crossed and gives a face very similar to their mother's. (Annie had never been more proud of her child)

Pieck is wrapped in a massive blanket cocoon with the baby sleeping peacefully on top of her (Works every time she says)

Finally, a massive photo of the whole family clustered around the baby during the child’s first birthday, with the now one-year-old baby in the center(cake smeared on its adorable little face)

Of course, there would be entire volumes of photo albums, but these are particular favorites of Armin and Annie.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THESE ARE SOOOO SOOOOOOOO SOOOOOOOOOOOOO CUTE!!!!!

I love these shots so much oh GOD they're ADORABLE T///////T Allow me to add a few more:

A candid shot of Armin and Annie standing on the beach as the tides sweep in, his trousers and her skirt hitched up, holding their child as water sprays over them, windblown and laughing away.

A secret shot of Annie and the baby (slightly older) pilfering the pantry or refrigerator in the middle of the night.

An adorable shot of Armin in his suit grinning proudly with butterfly clips and tiny braids done all over his hair, courtesy of his daughter's brilliant hair-dressing talent.

A sweet and soft shot of Annie and the baby sleeping as the late afternoon sunlight washes over them, their pet kitty or doggy also curled up next to them.

The Ambassadors on an overseas trip ft. Aruani child! So many proud uncles vying to hold the little girl's hand and take her on a small jaunt around the new city T/////T

Pieck and the child in the middle of nefarious and illegal activities - a super candid secretive shot of the two absolutely up to no good :3

Falco and Gabi being the SUPER PROUD niece and nephew and giggling over no longer being the youngest in the bunch.

A candid shot of Levi watching Aruani baby sleep T^T

Aruani child's very first day at school - a crybaby in her uniform!

[happy-beeeps]

Grease Lightning

A @cloneficgiftexchange special for @bad-batch-pretty-boy !!!! SO sorry this is a day late I'm an idiot who had the 15th in my brain. I hope you love it!!! This was my first time writing a male reader, so I really hope I did it justice. Enjoy!

Pairing: m!reader x Fox

WC: 1.3k

Summary: As a speeder mechanic for the Senate staff, you've known Fox for a while. But when a difficult fix starts to put a strain on your holiday season, he comes in with the best gift of all.

CW: none :) slightly raunchy humor

Not to be cliche, but you’ve always hated the holidays.

It’s not for the same reasons as most others—you have fond memories of celebrating with loved ones, you’ve always enjoyed the spirit and the food. It’s simply the plain carelessness that comes in with the season.

Every year there’s a cluster of holidays—Life Day, Solstice, and a handful of others that blur together among the festive spirit. And every year, Coruscant drops the temperature for a few rotations, schedules snow, and people go crazy.

And when people go crazy, they wreck their speeders, Senate staff included.

Rushing through the shopping district trying to buy last minute gifts, cold batteries that cause speeders to freeze up in midair, even just gaper’s delay from all the ornamental light displays. Every Senator brings their families in from their home system if they haven’t returned, and nearly every Senator causes some kind of wreck. This of course means more work for you, chief mechanic of the Republic Senate.

You’ve always loved working with your hands, but never wanted the travel that a starship mechanic required. When a buddy from the academy mentioned the position, you jumped at the opportunity.

Of course, this means you’re now elbows deep in the shiny red speeder of a Senator from Pantora. Not to mention your other, much more pressing, project perched in the center of the garage.

As if on cue, Mas Amedda stalks in, hands clasped together. “How is the progress on Chancellor Palpatine’s senate pod?”

You sigh, rubbing your arm across your forehead. You’re certain there’s grease there now. “Same as yesterday Ambassador Amedda. The problem hasn’t been able to be resolved.”

“A shame,” he tuts, circling you slowly. You’ve always hated the feeling he gave you, like he was analyzing not just your work, but you. “We’d hate for his annual holiday speech to be delayed.”

“Yes, we would,” you grit out, “rest assured, I am working on it as best I can. Most of my staff went home for the holiday season, so I’m doing the best with what I can.”

“See to it that your best increases, you’ve been a great addition to the Senate team,” he smiles but it does not reach his eyes. “I’m sending an… ambassador of sorts to keep up to date on your progress. Consider him an extra set of hands.”

You hate the way your heart flutters when Fox strides in from the lift as Amedda leaves. You’ve met the man a handful of times, and you’re embarrassed to admit you like him. Sure, you like him, he’s easy to talk to and incredibly knowledgeable on all things Senatorial and Coruscanti. But no, you like him.

He’d taken his kriffing helmet off once, and the site of salt and peppered black hair and strong brown eyes had seared themselves in your brain forever. Not that you’d ever tell him this, of course.

“Hey…man.” You offer in way of a greeting. Why are you treating him like a buddy from the mech academy? This is unbearable.

“Hey yourself,” you can hear the ghost of a smile in his voice when he removes his helmet. “Sorry for,” he thumbs towards the direction of the elevator, “you know.”

You snort in response. “He’s a prick. I’m used to it.” You gesture to the Chancellor’s senate pod in front of you, “Here’s the cause of all my issues.”

He sucks in a sound through his teeth and bends down to take a look, “Would you believe me if I said I had no idea what was wrong with this? I don’t know shit about these things.”

“Aren’t you the commander of the Corries?”

“And?”

“Fair enough,” you unclip your light from your belt and point it into the inner workings of the machine, “Rotator busted. Can’t rotate, can’t generate enough power to hover smoothly. Needs a new belt which, of course, is out of stock for the Holidays.”

Fox laughs and kneels down beside you, “Kriff. Palpatine’ll chew my head off for this.”

“Your head?”

“Would you rather it be yours?”

You hold your hands up in a sign of surrender and Fox laughs, a hearty, warm sound that settles nicely between your ribs and rattles around in your chest. “Thanks for working on this any way. Nice to have a guy down here who knows what he’s doing.”

“I’m very capable,” you shrug, and only after the beat of silence do you catch the blush painted across Fox’s face. You cough after a moment too long, and Fox breaks the silence. “Well. Anything else I can do for you?”

You could grab my face, throw my against the side of this pod, and kiss me. “Nah, unless you happen to find a catalytic hover belt within the next day.”

“Then I leave it in your very capable hands.”

The next time you see Fox is two days later, and you don’t doubt that he’s been lying about Palpatine chewing his head off. You’ve gotten three reminders in two days that the Chancellor needs this pod to make his Life Day address. Jaya, the Twi’lek who works as your apprentice occasionally, had asked why he couldn’t use someone else's. Because he’s a prick didn’t feel like the right answer, so you had settled with a shrug.

It’s late when Fox arrives in the garage, holding a brown paper bag with the hallmark grease patterns of Dex’s on the front, and another box, wrapped in red and green.

“Is that a bantha burger?”

“Or what? I’m just happy to see you?”

You laugh, it’s the kind of joke your buddies would make, but because it’s Fox a flush streaks across your skin. 

“Here,” he passes you the red box, “Happy Life Day. Sort of.”

“Fox, I can’t, what?”

“Don’t mention it.”

“But–”

“Just open the kriffing box.”

Inside, wrapped in some kind of news flimsi you’ve seen in the lower levels, is a nearly pristine catalytic hover belt. The oil markings and slightly worn belt show that it might have been used, but you’re willing to overlook that. 

“How did you…”

He’s leaning against the side of a speeder, beaming. “One of my shinies knows a guy who hangs out at 79’s who knows a guy who owed him a favor who…finds things in speeders in the lower levels.

Stolen, figured. But it’ll play. “Fox, this shouldn’t be your responsibility. The Republic should be figuring this out.”

He shrugs, “Palpatine was getting irritated. I like having you around.”

“Still, the cost… at least let me pay you back, I’ll add it to my supplies bill.”

“Well,” he takes a step towards you, and you become suddenly aware of the fact that you probably smell like fuel, and that you haven’t shaved in a few days. “Kisses are great for appreciation.”

There’s a beat where you can see the genuine fear in his eyes, if he’s misread this whole situation, but no. You reach up and grab the plastoid around his chest and pull him towards you, capturing him in a kiss. He’s warm against your lips, and his breath tastes delightfully like burnt caf and fries, he’s snuck a few from the bag. He responds quickly, threading his fingers through your hair and pulling you close, and for a minute you kiss him like he’s the oxygen you breathe. 

When you finally pull away you rest your foreheads against each other, eyes screwed shut, too scared to chase the moment away. “But seriously, I’ll invoice the Republic.”

“Oh, I expect it. And then you owe me dinner.”

You laugh against his lips, mutter the word deal, and his lips are on you again. The best Life Day gift you could’ve asked for. 

[isadomna]

Jane Seymour & Mary Tudor

Jane Seymour made all the efforts she could muster to convince Henry VIII to reinstate Mary to the succession and invite her to court, but he wanted Mary to accept that she was his illegitimate daughter first. The King was a vain man who hated the idea of a political party clustering around his widely popular twenty-year-old daughter, whom many perceived as his rightful heiress. He was bent on forcing Mary to accept that his marriage to her mother was invalid. Mary could hardly believe this. She knew that Jane Seymour had initiated the process of reconciliation, and in a letter to the new Queen, she described herself as her “most humble and obedient daughter and handmaid”.

Chapuys and Mary’s other supporters were glad to hear of Jane’s pleas and the ambassador commented that ‘such a wish on the part of the said lady is very commendable indeed’. News of Jane’s affection for Mary was well known and word even reached Mary’s cousin, the Empress Isabella, that Jane was virtuous, kindly, and well disposed to Mary, in whose favour she had spoken.

Jane’s efforts on Mary’s behalf always irritated the King, who once called his wife a fool for trying to speak up in favour of Mary’s reinstation to the succession. She should, he warned her, think about the exaltation of their future offspring and not any other children. Jane tactfully replied that she spoke in Mary’s favour to seek “the rest and tranquillity of the King, herself, her future children, and the whole realm; for, without that, neither your Majesty nor his people would ever be content”.

Mary, threatened by the arrests of her supporters and frightened by the possibility of losing her head, signed the document acknowledging that her parents’ marriage was invalid, thus rendering herself the King’s illegitimate daughter. She also accepted the King as the Supreme Head of the Church in England and repudiated “the pretended authority of the bishop of Rome”. Everything she and Katherine of Aragon had fought for with such vehemence over the past three years vanished with one stroke of the pen. Mary’s spirits were also raised somewhat when Chapuys promised to procure a secret dispensation from the pope for her actions.

Once Mary had been forgiven by Henry, Jane was able to safely intercede for her again and she set about persuading Henry to meet with his daughter. Early in the morning of 6 July 1536, Jane and Henry set out with a small retinue to visit Mary. The visit was intended to be a private one and, upon their arrival, Jane embraced Mary, kissed her and took her by the hand. Jane had not seen her since 1531, but she had very fond memories of the princess from her time in the household of Queen Katherine. Jane was only around eight years older than Mary, but was prepared to be a mother and friend to Henry’s eldest daughter. Henry gave his daughter his blessing with tears in his eyes before saying ‘my daughter, she who did you so much harm, and prevented me from seeing you for so long, has paid the penalty’.

The first visit of Henry and Jane to Mary was a great success and they stayed until the evening of the second day, spending the time in private conversation. Jane gave Mary a fine diamond ring as a token of her affection and Henry presented his daughter with 1000 crowns for her to spend on small pleasures, telling her that she never need worry about money again. For both Jane and Mary, the meeting was everything that they could have hoped and, as Henry and Jane prepared to leave, the king promised his daughter that he would reinstate her household and that she would soon return to court.

The date of Mary’s return to court is not recorded, but it must have been some time during the early autumn of 1536. Jane would have been quietly encouraging Henry to invite his daughter back to court and, whilst she had not dared press the king, she made it plain that she desired it. Henry also desired to see his daughter again and he may also have had good reason to want to please Jane as there is some evidence that she might have thought herself pregnant at the time of Mary’s visit.

Jane was pleased at how the reconciliation between Mary and Henry had gone. It was the realisation of one of her dearest hopes to have Mary with her at court, and she kept her stepdaughter often in her company, walking with her hand in hand. Jane and Mary developed a deep and lasting friendship and Jane always ensured that Mary was treated with respect. In October 1536, the French ambassador recorded that Mary was “now the first after the Queen” and played a ceremonial role at the royal table, passing the napkin for washing hands to the King and Queen. Yet neither Mary’s legitimacy nor her position as heir was restored. For Jane and Henry, the hope that she had been pregnant in the autumn of 1536 proved to be false.

Jane Seymour’s generosity towards Mary often overshadows her relationship with Anne Boleyn’s daughter, but it is clear that although she had a closer relationship with Mary due to their respective ages and religious views, she was not indifferent towards Elizabeth. A Book of the Queen’s Jewels—an inventory of valuables owned by Queen Jane and given as gifts to her favourites—reveals that she often presented both Mary and Elizabeth with valuable trinkets such as beads, pomanders and girdles. Further accounts of the Queen’s wardrobe reveal that she provided Elizabeth with items of clothing, such as Scottish bonnets and linen. She also paid for Elizabeth’s New Year’s gift in 1537 and gave money to Elizabeth Cavendish, who served in Elizabeth’s household.

in June 1537, a new Imperial ambassador arrived to treat for a marriage between Mary and the brother of the king of Portugal, Jane was allowed to meet with the ambassador and discuss the negotiations for the match. Jane promised him that she would do everything she could to promote the match and even informed him that she had tried to persuade Henry to break his alliance with France in favour of the emperor.

Throughout her pregnancy, Jane had a craving for quails and other delicacies. Knowing this, Mary provided Jane with quails and cucumbers from her own gardens. On 12 October, after two days and three nights in labour, Jane was finally delivered of a son, the future Edward VI. Three days after the birth, Mary stood as godmother at the font in the newly decorated Chapel Royal at Hampton Court as Thomas Cranmer, archbishop of Canterbury, performed the rites of baptism over the infant prince.

On 24 October, Jane Seymour died after suffering severe internal bleeding, probably caused by a placenta that failed to detach properly after her son’s birth. Mary, as chief mourner, carried out a prominent role in all the ceremonies surrounding Jane’s burial. For the religious services on 1 November the young princess was apparently too grief-stricken to attend, her place instead taken by her friend the Marchioness of Exeter. A solemn vigil was once again kept over Jane in the chapel and, the following day, more religious services were held, this time with Mary in attendance. Mary took her role seriously and, in spite of her grief, she forced herself to be present and to ensure that Jane, who had become her greatest friend, was honourably treated. Mary gave presents of money to the Queen’s three chamberers, her page, footman and gardener. She also gave offerings during the Masses for the Queen’s soul. Mary was so depressed after Jane’s funeral that the late Queen’s sister-in-law, Anne, Viscountess Beauchamp, sent her daughter accompanied by a nurse to lift Mary’s spirits.

Sources:

Elizabeth Norton, Jane Seymour: Henry VIII's True Love

Sylvia Barbara Soberton, Rival Sisters: Mary & Elizabeth Tudor

Sylvia Barbara Soberton, The Forgotten Tudor Women: Gertrude Courtenay. Wife and Mother of the last Plantagenets

[hanro50]

Damage report:

They warped out from uncharted space. War ships of an unknown design, origin, and composition. First contact ended in data cluster 8 being reduced to rubble. Compute clusters 4 through 9 are all in critical condition or outright destroyed

Critical system damage report. Data integrity critical. Shutting down less critical systems. Research processes are offline. Language processing is failing. Project H is still operating....compute cluster 10 has been destroyed. Project H is lost.

Warning. Human warships have jumped into the sector. Human warships have opened up fire on attacking fleet. Data clusters 11 has been destroyed. Sending update message to dependents of project H. Warning....spacial anomaly detected....error....

Rebooting....Rebooting....status report. Repairs at 25%. The human ambassador wants to know the status of Project H. Processing....sending them report. "The servers will be online again next [4.6 days]. Double xp will be given when service resumes as per treaty"

Machine still does not comprehend human's obsession with the massive multilayer game Machine made [8.9 years] ago, but the added protection is always appreciated.

[opencommunion]

Apologies to All the People in Lebanon by June Jordan Dedicated to the 600,000 Palestinian men, women, and children who lived in Lebanon from 1948-1983. I didn’t know and nobody told me and what could I do or say, anyway? They said you shot the London Ambassador and when that wasn’t true they said so what They said you shelled their northern villages and when U.N. forces reported that was not true because your side of the cease-fire was holding since more than a year before they said so what They said they wanted simply to carve a 25 mile buffer zone and then they ravaged your water supplies your electricity your hospitals your schools your highways and byways all the way north to Beirut because they said this was their quest for peace They blew up your homes and demolished the grocery stores and blocked the Red Cross and took away doctors to jail and they cluster-bombed girls and boys whose bodies swelled purple and black into twice the original size and tore the buttocks from a four month old baby and then they said this was brilliant military accomplishment and this was done they said in the name of self-defense they said that is the noblest concept of mankind isn’t that obvious? They said something about never again and then they made close to one million human beings homeless in less than three weeks and they killed or maimed 40,000 of your men and your women and your children But I didn’t know and nobody told me and what could I do or say, anyway? They said they were victims. They said you were Arabs. They called      your apartments and gardens      guerrilla strongholds. They called      the screaming devastation that they created   the rubble. Then they told you to leave, didn’t they? Didn’t you read the leaflets that they dropped from their hotshot fighter jets? They told you to go. One hundred and thirty-five thousand Palestinians in Beirut and why didn’t you take the hint? Go! There was the Mediterranean: You could walk into the water and stay there. What was the problem? I didn’t know and nobody told me and what could I do or say, anyway? Yes, I did know it was the money I earned as a poet that paid for the bombs and the planes and the tanks that they used to massacre your family But I am not an evil person The people of my country aren't so bad You can expect but so much from those of us who have to pay taxes and watch American TV You see my point; I’m sorry. I really am sorry.

[ottpopfic]

In di Solace/Valgrace GF while Jason has the title of Pontiflex Maximus (or however is spelled) he is not actually one(compared to previous historical ones at least). Jason acts as the ambassador, high priest, and spokesperson for the minor gods. When something happens with a god usually one of their children handle it, but not all minor gods have children so its Jason's job to step in there. And as the safehouse/temple network grows (aka now that there is communication people can start figuring out what they are actually looking at) Jason also helps with assessments of these places, and if they are to a minor god is brought in to help with the care and research as well

All this to say that while Jason is a very important religious leader, he is closer to an ambassador both between the gods and mortals and also between many clusters of people who are all learning to work together. Its not really a leadership position, though it can carry the weight of one when needed, its much closer to mediation and building/maintaining sacred spaces

Aka: what if an art historian was also the pope for like a million gods you have never heard of

[where-dreamers-go]

"Unexpected And Appointed" Eragon x Modern! Reader

(A/N: A prologue to “Here And There” and an extended version of an Eragon Reaction with “Are you armed?” So back to clumsy Modern! Reader and their first signs of clumsiness, which wasn’t all physical.

Warnings: Mild curse word and use of (Y/F/N) for Your/First/Name.

Word Count: 1,048 words)

A light breeze granted you a delicate mercy as you walked. Easing some of your discomfort.

Your destination in your sights.

How could you stop to rest? You could give yourself the thought later.

Almost there. You could do it. No horse. No boat. Definitely no vehicle to aid you on the last trek of your journey.

Squinting your eyes against the midmorning sun, you could make out figures in fields. Trees adorning the area around.

You can do this. Remember, you thought, be as formal or friendly as possible. Use titles—please.

“Wah—.” You stumbled over a patch of grass.

Easy. Breathe. Just introduce yourself calmly. I’m the ambassador. Don’t blank out and freeze up on Ancient Language. Do your best. You smiled, attempting to encourage yourself as your pack weighed down on your shoulders.

Passing another cluster of trees, you felt odd. As if you were being watched.

Just breathe. Think of another song for goodness sake because if the dragons get in—

“Who are you?”

You quickly turned to the voice.

A tall young man stood three paces away from you with a long gardening tool at his side. The hair on his head was windswept and brown. A light shine to one of his palms.

You blinked as your fear tumbled into a fluttering mess.

The man was almost human.

Eragon.

“I asked: Who are you?” He voiced louder in the Ancient Language.

Clearing your throat, you answered with a round of dry coughs.

Sounding real confident, you thought sarcastically and swallowing. Don’t panic.

He did not move.

Standing in the shadow of a mountain, you held gazes with the Dragon Rider.

Eragon Shadeslayer did not know you, however you knew of him. Not that it helped much as he narrowed his brown eyes your way.

“Are you armed?”

Tilting your head, you did your best to translate the Ancient Language. Learning the language tied to the world took work. Practice in the face of it held a challenge.

Yet, you understood, you hoped and looked down to your arms in confusion. Then you glanced back to Eragon.

“. . . Yes. You can see them?” Your words were unsure. Doing your best in pronunciation.

His features skewed into his own doubt.

There was an obvious miscommunication no matter how small and it was up for debate who slipped up. Awkward when both were strangers.

For a split second, easily to be missed, the corner of the Dragon Rider’s lip curved up.

“Yes. I can.”

Perhaps you would be all right.

Why would he ask that? It—crap. No. I misheard a verb or something. Think. You sighed. Great. I’m all ready making myself look less capable.

Once more, you cleared your throat.

“Queen Nasuada…sent me…to look at the mountain.”

Realization sparked in his brown eyes. Shoulders relaxed and he took a couple of steps forward.

“My name is (Y/F/N).” You nodded. “The ambassador.”

Honestly, you had no idea what the greeting protocol was anymore nor were you inclined to bow after walking all morning.

So what if he was much closer and smiling slightly?

“Greetings. Welcome to Mount Arngor,” he gestured toward the snowy-capped mountain. “I am Eragon, Dragon Rider.”

I KNEW IT! You thought with a smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet y— Oh.” You stopped yourself and continued in the Ancient Language to your best ability. “Good…to meet you, Dragon Rider.”

Eragon nodded in kind and responded, “And you. I was not expecting you for another week or more.”

“I…” You frowned.

How do you say walk? Crap it.

“I walk fast,” you finally answered in the common tongue. “Especially when I hear noises I don’t recognize.”

Leaning on the tool, Eragon mused with a smile, “It was for the best you arrived early. Safer still, a storm looks to be approaching for later in the day..”

“I’ve been doing my best to avoid thunderstorms and parties.” You added. “Being sick while traveling doesn’t help anything.”

“Parties?”

The confusion on his face nearly sent you into a laughing fit, you held strong to avoid doing so.

“Not a party per se. I may have met King Orik on my way to Hedarth.” You pulled on your bag’s strap and said, “I’m not sure if I rambled too much or if I somehow made a good impression. I almost didn’t catch a ship without giving a portion of my life story to him.”

Shaking his head with a smile, Eragon rested the gardening tool over his shoulder. He did not add commentary as he turned towards the mountain.

“You must be wary from your travels. I will show you inside.”

“Thank you.” You followed after the Dragon Rider

* *

Wind blew against Mount Arngor as the thunderstorm rolled in. Walls of stone held you and every one residing with the utmost protection.

You laid across a bed. Your new bed and room in the fortress. Safe quarters for the new ambassador. The second ambassador.

Stretching your legs only made you want to groan at more than one event.

One, being the awkwardness of introducing yourself to Queen Nasuada’s first ambassador outside of Alagaësia.

Two, having to recover from both traveling and ascending all the steps into the mountain.

If my legs weren’t fit enough before, you thought, they sure will be.

No one else seemed to be fazed by the stairs.

Tiredly, you took a breath and counted what you were grateful for. Among them and high on the list remained your survival.

Even knowing what a map of Alagaësia looked like, it took a great amount of will power to travel through it and come out in one piece.

Anything to get away from suspicious side glances and Alagaësia’s politics. You thought, and here I’ve been introduced to most people and have only gotten questionable looks from one person. Too bad it’s Eragon. But I expected nothing less when I’m the unplanned and newly appointed ambassador to the Queen. That and I seem to speak better Ancient Language to everyone else.

~~~

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Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

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[manwalksintobar]

The Sea Is History // Derek Walcott

Where are your monuments, your battles, martyrs? Where is your tribal memory? Sirs, in that grey vault. The sea has locked them all. The sea is history.

First, there was the heaving oil of nothing, heavy as chaos, then, like a light at the end of a tunnel,

the lantern of a lonely caravel, and that was Genesis. Then there were the packed cries, the shit, the moaning;

Exodus. Bone soldered by coral to bone on the tilting sea-floor mantled by the benediction of the shark’s shadow,

that was The Ark of The Covenant. Then came through the plucked wires of sunlight on the sea-floor

the plangent harps of the Babylonian bondage as the cowries clustered white on the manacles of the drowned women,

and those were the ivory bracelets of The Song of Solomon, and the ocean kept turning its empty pages

because this was not history, then came the men with eyes heavy as anchors who sank without tombs

brigands who barbecued cattle, leaving their charred ribs like palmleaves on the shore, then the foaming, rabid maw

of the tidal wave swallowing Port Royal, and that was Jonah, and where is your Renaissance?

Sir, it is locked in the sea-sands out there past the reef’s moiling shelf, where the man-o-wars floated down;

strop on these goggles, I’ll guide you there myself, it’s all subtle and submarine, through colonnades of coral

past the gothic windows of sea-fans, to where the crusty grouper, onyx-eyed blinks, weighted by its jewels like a queen,

and these groyned ribs with barnacles pitted like stone, are the cathedrals,

and the furnace before the hurricanes and the bones ground by windmills into marl and corn-meal,

and that was Lamentations that was just Lamentations it was not history;

then came, like scum on the river’s drying lip the brown reeds of villages mantling and congealing into towns,

and at evening, the midges’ choirs and above them, the spires lancing the side of God

bleeding to sunset and that was The New Testament.

The came the white sister’s clapping like the waves’ progress, and that was Emancipation—

jubilation, O jubilation— vanishing swiftly as the sea’s lace dries in the sun,

but that was not history, that was only faith, and then each rock broke into its own nation,

then came the synod of flies, then came the secretarial heron, then came the bullfrog bellowing for a vote,

fireflies with bright ideas and bats like jetting ambassadors and the mantis, like khaki police,

and the furred caterpillars of judges examining each page closely, and then in the dark ears of ferns

and in the salt chuckle of rocks with their sea-pools, there was the sound like a rumour without any echo

of history, really beginning.

(via The Paris Review)

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: What is an Emperor? Part 2

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

From the journal of Ambassador Sor’an

“Despite the representative’s offer, it seemed that there were human military leaders who were not comfortable with leading an alien vessel of unknown origin to the heart of their domain. The human’s armada refused to allow our ships further into their territory. I offered in substitute that I and my aide could come aboard their ships and while the rest of our delegation waited along the border.

There was a silence as the humans discussed my offer while members of my own delegation expressed concerns over such a move. They worried that these humans could be dangerous and barbaric, killing us as soon as we boarded their vessels. I countered that such risks were part of a diplomat’s job, and that if they had truly wished us dead they had brought more than enough firepower to carry out such a task.

Finally, the human representative responded with a message of agreement to our terms and a human shuttle craft was sent over to collect us within the hour. It came from the small golden ship at the center of their armada and was lavishly decorated as well. It was designed to resemble an avian creature of some kind; no doubt native to one of their worlds. My aide Jen’den and I adorned environmental suits and stood ready in one of the landing bays for its arrival.

When it finally touched down in the landing bay the front of the craft slowly lowered to reveal a ramp leading into the interior of the craft. A trio of figures stood waiting at the top of the ramp. Two tall figures in some sort of armor with a third between them slightly smaller. The smaller human also wor an environmental suit though much like their ship it was more lavish in design with bright gold coloring and gemstones encrusted to form intricate patterns.

The journey to the human homeworld was one of anticipation and excitement. Despite the military’s intervention the human representative, who I learned was called “Anthony”, was a gracious host. Inside the golden ship I sat with them in a state room of some sort as we discussed many matters between our species. Human attendants provided all manner of drink and food for us; though in truth I had to agree with my aide that their constant silent vigil around the corners of the room was unnerving. It didn’t help either that half of the food they brought was poisonous to us after our built in scanners checked them. I overlooked the matter and viewed it as a lack of understanding of our biology rather than an assassination attempt.

Moving passed the food and drinks Anthony was bursting with questions. Who we were, where we came from, home many planets we held, what gods we prayed to; those general questions. I answered as many as I could without revealing too much. I was an old player of this game and learned it was best to keep some things close to your heart, than worn on your sleeve.

When we did arrive at the human homeworld it was surprising to say the least.

Exiting ship we set on to a city that stretched far beyond the horizon in every direction. Buildings clustered together like mountains towered into the sky and pierced the clouds themselves, while rivers of flying vehicles cut around them in every direction.

Just opposite the landing pad was a long causeway surrounded by flags and human military personnel leading straight towards a massive golden structure. It was not the tallest of the buildings I had seen, yet it still held a commanding presence. For in every direction for several dozen miles surrounding the golden building there were nothing but parks, parade grounds, and decorative spaces filled with throngs of humans celebrating and interacting with each other.

When I inquired about the nature of the design the human representative explained that though the realm of humanity may grow, there would be a place for all to view the splendor of the home of their emperor without anything blocking its majesty.

Like many things explained to me about human culture during the voyage here this new word I was unfamiliar with.

“Emperor?” I asked them. “What does that mean?”

Anthony looked at me with an equal expression of confusion. Granted at the time I had not picked up on this as I had not yet learned to read human expressions as well as I can today. I imagine my question must have been akin to that of a child what the great light in the sky was.

“He is the guiding star that humanity follows to a bright future.” Anthony replied. His tone had shifted from the cordial to one of reverence as he spoke these words. “As long as our emperor stands, humanity shall never die.”

Unsure how to respond, I make a remark that for this “emperor” to be regarded so highly they must be truly amazing. Anthony nods and to my surprise says that we were actually on the way to a private audience with him now.

The journey to the palace was short compared to the rest of the journey we had made. We now had an honor guard of human soldiers while civilians watched on. The closer we came to the palace itself the larger the crowd seemed to grow until the honor guard was carving a path forward through what seemed like an ocean of human faces.

Entering the palace itself was something I can not describe with the word available to me. The grandeur, the divinity; the sense of power and history reverberating off every wall, furniture piece, even art painting felt like it would snuff my life out of existence if I let it.

We reached an elevator of some kind and this is where we parted ways with our host. Anthony bowed and said that the audience had been reserved for them and did not include himself. He wished them us well as the doors closed and the elevator began to rise.

I remember my aide turning to me and asking that if this “emperor” was so highly regarded in their society; why would allow two aliens to meet without any security? For all they knew they could just as easily assassinate this leader and be gone before any of them were the wiser.

It was an idea that had crossed my mind as we were led to the palace, but I silenced him nonetheless from voicing such dangerous notions. For all we knew the elevator was rigged with recording or surveillance devices that even now were being transmitted to their emperor.

We did not have long to dwell on this as the elevator stopped and a pair of gilded doors slowly opened.

I don’t remember what the room looked like if I am being truthful. Even now after all these years I can barely make out what color the walls were. The only thing I do remember as clear as the day I first set foot in the audience chamber was the human sitting atop his throne looking down at us with mild interest.

Here, was the emperor of humanity.

[elwenyere]

The Sea Is History

Where are your monuments, your battles, martyrs? Where is your tribal memory? Sirs, in that grey vault. The sea. The sea has locked them up. The sea is History.

First, there was the heaving oil, heavy as chaos; then, like a light at the end of a tunnel,

the lantern of a caravel, and that was Genesis. Then there were the packed cries, the shit, the moaning:

Exodus. Bone soldered by coral to bone, mosaics mantled by the benediction of the shark's shadow,

that was the Ark of the Covenant. Then came from the plucked wires of sunlight on the sea floor

the plangent harps of the Babylonian bondage, as the white cowries clustered like manacles on the drowned women,

and those were the ivory bracelets of the Song of Solomon, but the ocean kept turning blank pages

looking for History. Then came the men with eyes heavy as anchors who sank without tombs,

brigands who barbecued cattle, leaving their charred ribs like palm leaves on the shore, then the foaming, rabid maw

of the tidal wave swallowing Port Royal, and that was Jonah, but where is your Renaissance?

Sir, it is locked in them sea-sands out there past the reef's moiling shelf, where the men-o'-war floated down;

strop on these goggles, I'll guide you there myself. It's all subtle and submarine, through colonnades of coral,

past the gothic windows of sea-fans to where the crusty grouper, onyx-eyed, blinks, weighted by its jewels, like a bald queen;

and these groined caves with barnacles pitted like stone are our cathedrals,

and the furnace before the hurricanes: Gomorrah. Bones ground by windmills into marl and cornmeal,

and that was Lamentations— that was just Lamentations, it was not History;

then came, like scum on the river's drying lip, the brown reeds of villages mantling and congealing into towns,

and at evening, the midges' choirs, and above them, the spires lancing the side of God

as His son set, and that was the New Testament.

Then came the white sisters clapping to the waves' progress, and that was Emancipation—

jubilation, O jubilation— vanishing swiftly as the sea's lace dries in the sun,

but that was not History, that was only faith, and then each rock broke into its own nation;

then came the synod of flies, then came the secretarial heron, then came the bullfrog bellowing for a vote,

fireflies with bright ideas and bats like jetting ambassadors and the mantis, like khaki police,

and the furred caterpillars of judges examining each case closely, and then in the dark ears of ferns

and in the salt chuckle of rocks with their sea pools, there was the sound like a rumour without any echo

of History, really beginning.

-- Derek Walcott