#THE FOUNDING OF 'NEW AMSTERDAM' AND ITS CONSEQUENCES

[allgremlinart]

re: lrb sorry I didn't rb that dutch addition on that post but it was like. TOO funny for me to take seriously. and it's something that SHOULD be taken seriously!! "globalization" is often another word for "destruction of localized language and culture/neo-colonialism" so like. very much on page w that post.

. .. but the dutch thing was TOO funny sdhshs

[stararch4ngelqueen]

La Dama Sin Cara (18+)

Part 7 of Ghosts and Mirages

Warning: STRONG mentions of blood/gore/violence! Heavy angst, use of guns/knives. Breach of trust, trust issues, jealousy, mentions of suicide, suicide letters. HEAVY smut, choking, aggressive sex, radio sex, overstimulation, unprotected sex, minor knife play, mirror sex, slight bondage, possessive kinks.

!Please Beware! This part contains multiple chapters, with their own unique summaries, tags/warnings!

Summary: Trust was everything to him, just as it was to you. You trusted him as much as you adored him to not hurt you, those were your own words. He trusted you to not actively seek out that pain, believing he was keeping you physically safe. You should’ve known better then to be too curious.

Additional Summary: Will take place into leading mission into Las Almas, where you learn the cultures of Mexico and its hidden vipers, alongside your new teammates, as well as discovering the consequences of your own actions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mirage? You listening?"

"What? Yeah, I am."

"Right. So, they're estimating we'll be arriving aroun' 0200, hopefully we'll be back before mornin, y'know?"

"Mhm."

"Yeah," Soap slowed his words, staring at your bowed head, your gaze lingering down along your plate in front of you. "An' if you were listenin' to me, you'd agree that I'm a better shot than you."

"In your dreams." You looked back at him while stabbing your fork into your food, smirking just a bit at his cheeky grin.

“Christ, eat woman. Or I’ll force feed ya myself.” He muttered while bringing his spoon down towards his tray, watching you roll your eyes before shoving food in your mouth.

The two of you found each other during dinner time, taking up residence at one of the vacant tables by the entrance. Usually, Gaz would join the both of you, but his current mission with Price had him in Amsterdam, but you weren't saying you enjoyed Soap's company any less if he wasn't here regardless.

With the raging lines entering the mess hall dimming down significantly, you could eat more comfortably with your mask off, sitting in a way where anyone would at least see the normal side of your face upon first glance without doing unnecessary double takes.

Everyone stares, it's the human's natural curiosity. Even you were victim to it, but it didn't make you feel any better regardless of how many times you've tried to ignore it.

"So," You brought your knuckle over your lips. "You want me to be completely oblivious if he asks me?"

"I'm just sayin' if he asks, pretend you don't know nothing. That's all."

Soap watched your head nod, smiling a bit before losing focus once more. You looked like you had an awful lot on your mind lately, and he wasn't too sure why. Maybe it was just for the mission the two of you were assigned to tonight, wondering if you were planning on getting in a few hours of sleep before the trip.

The silence made him a little weary, clicking his tongue purposefully loud to break you from your thoughts.

"Christ, for a woman like you, I'd imagine you'd pay better attention to your superiors."

"A woman like me?" You huffed as your head rose again, reaching your left hand over for your drink. "Elaborate, please. I'm dying to know what you mean by that."

"Oh, y'know, a woman like you." He gestured at you with his spoon, swallowing his food before continuing. "Yer strong, smart, got bigger bollocks than any other man I've met thus far."

"Easy there, Ghost might get jealous." You snickered a little, watching him smirk. "Eh, Simon ain't around to glare at me for it, think I'm in the clear."

You giggled again, setting your cup down beside you. "You're sweet John, but you're just being nice."

"I'm bein' serious, learn to take a damn compliment every once in a while." His brow firmed, making your gaze grow a bit firmer towards the Scotsman.

"What you've been through to get here now, an' everything that's happened in between, I need to admit, I admire you, lass. You're still standin' an' still smilin', that takes strong guts."

You reached for your drink again, lowering your gaze for a moment down into the liquid in your cup. Your mind raced with various thoughts, not really expecting a talk to from Soap like this of all times like now, of all places.

"Hey," John spoke up to gain back your attention, watching your eyes nervously glance up back at him. "Hope I didn't make you nervous, it's just... I don't know, you've changed is all. Just wanted to remind you of the strong woman I see now. The one who looks like she'll kick me under the table if I say another word."

Change? You almost snorted into your cup, catching the thin streams of liquid that rolled down the sides of your lips.

"Jesus, John." Reaching for the napkin he held out to you with a loud chuckle, you cleaned your mouth before composing yourself, showing him a slight smile after that minorly embarrassing outburst.

After composing yourself, your eyes trailed down towards his casually rested forearm on the table. You reached your hand out to rest against the back of his large palm.

As sweet as he was trying to be, a small part of you deep in your mind wanted to refuse his words. Compliments like these were flattering, sure, but you were just you. Despite what's happened, you were just as much of a soldier as anyone else.

Still, you couldn't deny the warmth that spread throughout your chest from his words.

"You don't have to say those things, John. I appreciate it though. Thanks."

"Aye." John smiled a little more, glancing down at your hand, his gaze following as you removed it.

"Is he starin' at me?" He suddenly asked in a low mutter.

"Who?"

"Ghost." He states, making you raise a brow. Ghost?

Your eyes flicked upwards towards the exit, spotting none other than the tall, ever so familiar man standing in the vacant entryway behind Soap.

His posture was stiff, his shoulder pressed against the left side of the wall he leaned against. His broad arms were crossed, his head tilted downwards as he glared at Soap with hard, narrowed eyes at the display, almost making the whites of his eyes look nonexistent from the black paint shadowing his lids.

Maybe he heard every word Mactavish said, or maybe he came and saw the moment your hand settled on his. Regardless, he stood there like a bouncer at a nightclub, glaring down at someone who tried entering with a fake ID.

"No. He isn't." You chose to say, meeting John's gaze with your attempt at a serious expression.

"You're a terrible liar, lass." John squinted his eyes at you, watching your corners of your lips diligently try to refrain from smiling.

"Check." You flicked your head upwards, watching him turn his head to look over his shoulder.

Just like you expected, he was gone. As if he was never there.

The relieved look on John's face right after left you trying to use every facial muscle you could to stop smiling.

"Coulda swore he was there." John chuckled just a bit, proceeding to smirk at you again. "You looked like you had hearts in your eyes when you looked up."

"Oh, fuck off," You giggled, picking your abandoned fork off your tray.

"You sure he didn't come by to view his most favorite Seargent?" You tilted your head, watching his hand freeze. His brows fiercely furrowed, looking at you with an intense look of confusion.

"Who? Me?" He pointed at himself.

"Duh. Who else?"

"N-no," He chuckled, proceeding to shake his head. "No, lass. Don't get any ideas."

"Are you blushing??" You smiled more, starting to laugh when he shook his head again, a faint flush kissing his cheeks. "John! That's cute!"

"Christ, enough!" He barks at you, unable to hide a smile as you laughed again, joining in with you when you head tilted back in amusement.

"Forget everythin' I said. You didn't change a bit, kid."

"So, who exactly is it again?"

"Major Hassan. Long story short, the Ambassador I was sent to oversee get executed during a meeting with the Russians a few months back, this is his second in command."

"So, he's got all this army together and upgraded in less than three months?"

"It has been three months, but you're correct."

You asked questions you already knew the answers to, all for the sake of putting up the minor facade to keep Ghost from questioning otherwise. That was the plan, supposedly he had no idea that you and Soap were getting assigned under his command to go tonight.

You found him in his office after dinner, busying himself with his work. His office space was quite similar to Price's, but more... plain. Bland.

Price's office had a bit more character, which was a fancy way of saying he had a lot more clutter during the time you spent with him, mostly due to the fact he was always busy with the paperwork. That was part of being a Captain after all, it wasn't all just leading soldiers into battle.

Ghost's office was neater, no clutter of any kind laying around along his desk or overflowing the filing cabinets. All the offices that you've seen looked the same; limited space, bare bones walls, all sealed in by a single door.

When you came in after knocking, Ghost glared at you like nothing more than a recruit, an unknowing fly invading his personal space. In a matter of seconds, upon recognizing your pretty face once you pulled down your mask, his hardened, cold gaze melted just a bit.

You two spoke for a short while, the man attempting to continue his work, but eventually set down his long-forgotten pen. His eyes followed you as you mindlessly paced around his office, not really finding much to look at to keep yourself visually occupied.

You set Ghost's mug of lukewarm tea down on his desk after nursing on it while he spoke, exhaling a little bit while crossing your arms. "Wow, looks like you got your work cut out for you then." You paced away from his desk a bit, bringing your thumbnail to your mouth. "Capture mission, right?"

"Right," Ghost nodded once, watching you from where he sat in his chair. He didn't have spare chairs. He wasn't keen on visitors in his office in the first place.

“C’mere.”

“What?” You turned your head to look at him.

He glared at you, raising his settled hand from his lap to beckon you over with two fingers.

“I said, come here.”

Lowering your hand, you came closer, walking around the edge of his desk to stop in front of him as he turned his chair to face you.

"Why're you here?" He asked, watching you avoid your gaze for a split second before shrugging. "Just wanted to come see you."

"Did you now?" His large hands settled along your waist, instinctively making you take a step closer. "Sure it wasn't for somethin' else?"

Your hands settled along his shoulders, watching his head tilt to look you firmly in the eye. Small height differences like these never mattered, with eyes like his, piercing cold blue on a shade of pink tinted white canvases, he always looked stern, even if he didn’t intend to be. Or maybe it was just his mask doing a very, very good job.

"Tell me, love." He says, giving your waist a minor, semi-warning squeeze.

You leaned closer, keeping eye contact while settling your forehead over his. Being this close left you taking in his natural scent, his sharp, spicy musk mixed with a hint of generic aftershave from this morning, scents that had no business being so comforting, but they were his.

"Are you still jealous over John?" You confessed.

“Which one?” He gruffly questions.

“The one you stared down earlier,” You retorted, huffing a bit.

"What're you jealous over? What did we leave out last time? Hmm?" You leaned your head down to the side, pressing a kiss against his covered jaw before bringing your head back.

"Nothin," He mutters, giving your hips another additional squeeze, his palms slowly lowering down the sides of your thighs.

“Are you jealous because we laugh a lot? Is it cause Soap makes me laugh?"

He didn't look all too pleased with your choice of words. You tilted your head a bit, thinking of something else to say.

“Try it." You then proposed. "Make me laugh."

"You serious?" His brows either furrowed or raised in surprise.

You looked at him with said seriousness while nodding, giving him a bit of a shrug. "Tell me a joke.”

Ghost blinked, finding himself caught a bit off guard by your words. Tell you a joke? What an interesting request.

"Alright." He lowered his arms, folding his hands together in his lap while sitting forward.

“You’re aware that the terms ‘I’m sorry’ an’ ‘I apologize’ are the same thing, right?” He starts off, watching your face contort while thinking.

“Yeah,” you nodded slowly.

“Right. Well, not at a funeral it isn’t.”

You blinked. Ghost blinked right back at you, watching for any sign of... something. Anything.

Your lips started to curl, turning your head to the side as your cheeks puffed. A small snort left your mouth, followed by a growing giggle as the dam quickly fell apart.

Ghost simply continued to stare at you, watching the way your eyes closed as you tilted your head back, your arms falling out of their crossed position. It wasn't a loud bellow, nor was it really an overexaggerated chuckle. It was an honest laugh, your honest laugh, and he could tell was genuine.

That was more than enough to make his heart flutter.

"Christ Simon, not bad." You smiled through your words, "Didn’t know you were hiding some jokes in that head of yours.”

"You'd be scared to find what goes on in it." He sat back in his seat just a bit. "We all have our fair share of secrets to hide, kid."

“Oh, sure. I have a ton of secrets in my fluffy diaries.” You mused, settling your arm comfortably behind his shoulders, pressing your thumb along a strain of muscles that had his eyelids slowly lowering in delight.

"On a side note, I don't like keeping secrets from people I care about." Your voice was soft, as if you were speaking to yourself. Convincing yourself that you would never do such a thing.

His gaze lingered on your face, his hidden lips turning downwards for just a minor second or two.

"That a promise, sweetheart?" He questions you, glancing at you as you reached for the mug once again.

“Of course.” You smile at him before taking another sip of his tea, watching his eyes slowly soften with your answer, though something was a little off about the way he looked at you. You couldn't exactly place your finger towards how.

Releasing your hold on him, you took a step back until you leaned comfortably against his desk, cradling his mug in your hands.

“That can't be comfortable.”

“It feels fine to me.” You adjusted your footing, running your palm along the edge of his desk. “It's quite sturdy.”

He hummed a bit, proceeding to offer his left hand towards you. You rested your palm against his, smiling a little when his thumb brushed along the back of your hand.

“Get off.” He gave your hand a firm tug.

“Make me." You stated, determined to stay where you were.

“My office isn’t the place for that.” His eyes hardened at your choice of words.

“Offices are boring," You rolled your eyes, setting the now empty mug down. "I bet you if I walked in here in a coat with nothing under it, you’d change your mind.”

A hidden brow rose at your sudden, peculiarly interesting choice of words. “You suggestin' that I’m missing a coat rack in here?”

“You have any I can borrow? Coats, I mean.”

“Got a gray one. You could borrow that, if you get off my bloody desk.”

"Again, Mr. Riley. Make me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Enjoy the chapter so far? Enjoy the rest of these (smutty) chapters on my Ao3!

Read here as well on my Wattpad!

[materialsscienceandengineering]

New method flips the script on topological physics

The branch of mathematics known as topology has become a cornerstone of modern physics thanks to the remarkable—and above all reliable—properties it can impart to a material or system. Unfortunately, identifying topological systems, or even designing new ones, is generally a tedious process that requires exactly matching the physical system to a mathematical model. Researchers at the University of Amsterdam and the École Normale Supérieure of Lyon have demonstrated a model-free method for identifying topology, enabling the discovery of new topological materials using a purely experimental approach. The research is published in the journal Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. Topology encompasses the properties of a system that cannot be changed by any "smooth deformation." As you might be able to tell from this rather formal and abstract description, topology began its life as a branch of mathematics. However, over the last few decades physicists have demonstrated that the mathematics underlying topology can have very real consequences. Topological effects can be found in a wide range of physical systems, from individual electrons to large-scale ocean currents.

Read more.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

These vintage photos capture everyday life in Amsterdam during the 1930s.

Amsterdam was founded at the mouth of the Amstel River that was dammed to control flooding; the city’s name derives from the Amstel dam.

Originally a small fishing village in the late 12th century, Amsterdam became a major world port during the Dutch Golden Age of the 17th century, when the Netherlands was an economic powerhouse.

Amsterdam was the leading center for finance and trade, as well as a hub of production of secular art.

In the 19th and 20th centuries, the city expanded and many new neighborhoods and suburbs were planned and built.

The canals of Amsterdam and the 19th-20th century Defence Line of Amsterdam are both on the UNESCO World Heritage List.

Sloten, annexed in 1921 by the municipality of Amsterdam, is the oldest part of the city, dating to the 9th century.

The city has a long tradition of openness, liberalism, and tolerance.

Cycling is key to the city’s modern character, and there are numerous biking paths and lanes spread throughout the entire city.

Shortly before the First World War, the city started to expand again and new suburbs were built.

Even though the Netherlands remained neutral in this war, Amsterdam suffered a food shortage and heating fuel became scarce.

The shortages sparked riots in which several people were killed.

On 1 January 1921, after a flood in 1916, the depleted municipalities of Durgerdam, Holysloot, Zunderdorp, and Schellingwoude, all lying north of Amsterdam, were, at their own request, annexed to the city.

Between the wars, the city continued to expand, most notably to the west of the Jordaan district in the Frederik Hendrikbuurt and surrounding neighborhoods.

The Great Depression in the Netherlands occurred between 1933 and 1936, significantly later than in most other countries.

Until 1931, the social consequences of the economic crisis had been limited; by decreasing work hours and wages, mass unemployment had so far been avoided in most sectors.

However, around 1931, mass unemployment did start and those workers who could keep their jobs often had to accept significant wage cuts.

Rough estimates of unemployment show a surge between 1930 and 1932, and a steady increase up to the end of 1936.

Not every sector of the economy suffered equally; while the shipping and trading sectors were hit especially hard, some specialized sectors, such as the tobacco industry, survived the first stage of the depression relatively unharmed.

At the start of the depression, employed workers still saw their wage cuts matched by strong decreases of the price of consumption articles.

But after the first years of the depression, they too suffered from a decrease in real income.

For the increasing numbers of unemployed, the situation was much worse.

Until the 1930s, Dutch society did not have the experience and infrastructure needed to deal with mass unemployment.

In large parts of society, it was felt that unemployed people should above all be stimulated to find work, so only income support at subsistence level should be given.

Even though finding work had now become impossible for large numbers of people, social sentiments towards the unemployed changed only slowly.

Labor unions had funds for temporary income support for newly unemployed workers, to which the government added some subsidy.

Union members were spared real poverty for a limited period.

In the later stages of the depression, however, these union funds became depleted while the government also reduced its subsidy, forcing unions to steadily decrease the time period and amount of support.

Non-unionized workers and workers whose union support period had run out depended on a government poverty fund, which supported them up to subsistence level.

This minimal income support came with a heavy social stigma, which reflected the values of contemporary society.

Support receivers had to report at a government agency twice a day, waiting in the endless lines of unemployed, which became a symbol of the depression.

They also had to allow government inspectors to visit them at home and investigate their daily life, which quickly became a strongly hated practice among the unemployed.

Social stigmatization also took the form of clearly recognizable signs, such as red-colored subsidized clothing and the especially painful sign that a person was exempt from bicycle taxation (to be worn on a bicycle or on one’s clothing).

In addition to scarce government aid, there were private initiatives to support the poor.

(Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons / Pinterest / Flickr / Britannica / Netherlands Public Archives)

Updated on: February 8, 2023

[jcmarchi]

Whitepaper dispels fears of AI-induced job losses

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/whitepaper-dispels-fears-of-ai-induced-job-losses/

Whitepaper dispels fears of AI-induced job losses

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Fears that AI will lead to mass job losses are unfounded, according to a new whitepaper. The report, released by British AI software firm Automated Analytics, found that none of its 5,000 clients across the UK and US reported laying off staff as a result of AI implementation. 

The whitepaper, titled “Unlocking Data, Unlocking People: Harnessing the Power of AI to Transform Your Business,” launched today at Scale Space White City in London’s White City Innovation District. It argues that AI can actually be a catalyst for growth, rather than a threat to jobs.

Despite evidence to the contrary, the study also reveals a lingering fear of AI among UK business leaders. 

A YouGov survey commissioned by Automated Analytics found that over half of senior decision-makers still believe AI will eliminate more jobs than it creates. Only 17% believe AI will create more jobs than it eliminates. 

This hesitancy, the report warns, could have serious consequences for the UK economy. As US firms increasingly embrace AI, British businesses risk being left behind. Mark Taylor, CEO of Automated Analytics, argues that the UK needs to shift its focus from regulation to innovation in order to remain competitive.

“AI is not about replacing jobs; it’s about enhancing productivity and creating new opportunities,” says Taylor. “Our whitepaper provides concrete examples of how AI can drive growth, efficiency, and competitiveness. The UK cannot afford to lag behind in this critical area.”

The whitepaper highlights several case studies demonstrating the positive impact of AI on businesses:

British Gas’ Dyno-Rod: AI helped to halve the number of service calls by improving understanding of customer journeys, providing franchise operations with 100% visibility.

Pizza Hut (US): Restaurant Management Group, the fourth-largest US franchisee, used AI to reduce recruitment costs by $1 million and increase hires by 42%.

Fourth (UK): The hospitality recruitment firm saw a 220% increase in candidate flow and a drastic reduction in cost-per-application within 30 days of implementing its AI-driven TalentTrack software.

Taylor also expressed concern over the cultural differences between the US and UK in embracing new technologies. 

“The US is leading the charge in AI adoption, while the UK remains overly focused on regulation. This whitepaper demonstrates that many fears surrounding AI are unfounded and that it can play a crucial role in driving the UK’s economic growth.”

The whitepaper serves as a call to action for UK businesses to embrace AI as a vital tool for driving innovation and competitiveness in the global market. While it’s clear that businesses must adopt AI responsibly, the whitepaper should help to dispel fears of mass job losses.

A copy of the whitepaper can be found here (registration required.)

(Photo by Ruthson Zimmerman)

See also: UK signs AI safety treaty to protect human rights and democracy

Want to learn more about AI and big data from industry leaders? Check out AI & Big Data Expo taking place in Amsterdam, California, and London. The comprehensive event is co-located with other leading events including Intelligent Automation Conference, BlockX, Digital Transformation Week, and Cyber Security & Cloud Expo.

Explore other upcoming enterprise technology events and webinars powered by TechForge here.

Tags: adoption, ai, artificial intelligence, careers, enterprise, ethics, jobs, regulation, report, research, Society, study, whitepaper

[factinhistory]

What Happened on September 4 in British History?

September 4 is a date that holds a significant place in British history, marking events that span political upheavals, scientific advancements, and pivotal military actions. This day has seen moments of resilience, exploration, and innovation that have shaped the course of British history. From royal escapades and military sieges to groundbreaking scientific proposals, each event on this date reflects the complexities and evolution of the British nation.

What Happened on September 4 in British History?

Catholic Rebellion in Scotland (1571)

On September 4, 1571, Scotland was embroiled in a Catholic rebellion, a significant episode during a period of religious turmoil that gripped the British Isles. The rebellion was part of the larger struggle between Protestant and Catholic factions, which had profound implications for the political landscape of both Scotland and England. This particular uprising was fueled by tensions over religious allegiance, particularly following the abdication of Mary, Queen of Scots, in 1567.

The Catholic rebellion on September 4 represented the deep divisions within Scottish society, with the conflict extending to involve English interests. The rebellion was ultimately unsuccessful, leading to the consolidation of Protestant power in Scotland. This event marked a turning point in the religious wars of the British Isles, further entrenching the Protestant Reformation in Scotland and influencing the future of British religious and political identity.

See Also: What Happened on September 4 in History?

Hudson Discovers Manhattan (1609)

On September 4, 1609, the English navigator Henry Hudson made a landmark discovery when he became the first European to encounter the island of Manhattan, although this event is sometimes alternatively dated to September 11. Hudson was exploring on behalf of the Dutch East India Company, seeking a new route to Asia. His voyage up what would later be known as the Hudson River led to the eventual Dutch colonization of the area and the establishment of New Amsterdam, which later became New York City.

Hudson’s discovery on September 4 was a crucial moment in the history of exploration and colonization. It marked the beginning of European interest in the region, which would have far-reaching consequences for the indigenous populations and the development of the New World. This event also highlights the interconnectedness of British and Dutch colonial enterprises during the Age of Exploration, with Hudson’s discovery contributing to the expansion of European influence in North America.

The Disguise of Charles II (1651)

On September 4, 1651, King Charles II of England found himself on the run from Parliamentarian forces following his defeat at the Battle of Worcester. In a desperate bid to evade capture, Charles disguised himself as a countryman, rubbing his hands and face with soot to blend in with the local populace. This episode took place at White Ladies Priory, a moment of high drama in the king’s flight that would later become legendary.

The events of September 4 showcased Charles II’s resourcefulness and determination to reclaim his throne. His successful evasion of capture allowed him to eventually escape to France, where he remained in exile until the Restoration of the monarchy in 1660. This day has since been celebrated as part of the royalist narrative, symbolizing the resilience of the monarchy during one of its most perilous times.

Siege of Namur (1695)

On September 4, 1695, the French garrison at the castle of Namur surrendered to the forces of the Grand Alliance, led by King William III of England. The Siege of Namur was a key conflict during the Nine Years’ War, a struggle for supremacy in Europe involving many of the continent’s major powers. The capture of Namur was a significant victory for the Grand Alliance and marked a turning point in the war.

The surrender of Namur on September 4 demonstrated the strategic prowess of William III and the effectiveness of the coalition forces. This victory bolstered the standing of England and its allies, contributing to the eventual Treaty of Ryswick in 1697, which brought the war to an end. The siege is remembered as one of William III’s most notable military achievements and a moment of triumph in British military history.

Siege of Petropavlovsk Kamchatsky (1854)

On September 4, 1854, during the Crimean War, English and French forces laid siege to the Russian city of Petropavlovsk Kamchatsky, located in the Far East. This little-known aspect of the Crimean War was part of a broader strategy to weaken Russian influence across various fronts. The siege, however, ended in failure for the Anglo-French forces, who were repelled by the determined Russian defenders.

The events of September 4 during the Crimean War highlight the global scale of this conflict and the challenges faced by British forces in distant theaters of war. The failed siege at Petropavlovsk Kamchatsky underscored the difficulties of waging war in remote and inhospitable regions. Despite this setback, the Crimean War ultimately led to significant changes in military tactics and international relations, with lessons learned from engagements like this one influencing future British military strategy.

Volt and Ohm Proposed as Electrical Units (1861)

On September 4, 1861, the British Association for the Advancement of Science proposed standard units of electrical measurement at its 31st annual meeting in Manchester. The units were named the “Volt,” after Alessandro Volta, and the “Ohm,” after Georg Ohm, marking a significant moment in the history of science and engineering. These units provided a foundation for the development of electrical theory and technology, which would become increasingly important in the industrial and technological revolutions of the 19th and 20th centuries.

The proposal made on September 4 reflected the leading role of British scientists in advancing the field of electrical science. The establishment of standard units allowed for greater precision and consistency in scientific research and industrial applications. This development was crucial in the global spread of electrical technology, underpinning innovations that would transform societies and economies worldwide.

Pioneering Plastic Surgery (1939)

On September 4, 1939, surgeon Archibald McIndoe established a new Centre for Plastic and Jaw Surgery at Queen Victoria Hospital in East Grinstead, England. This center was specifically designed to treat injured airmen during World War II, many of whom had suffered severe burns and other injuries. McIndoe’s work in plastic surgery revolutionized the field, leading to significant advances in the treatment and rehabilitation of wounded soldiers.

The opening of the surgery center on September 4 marked the beginning of a new era in medical care for war injuries. McIndoe’s innovative techniques not only saved lives but also helped to restore the appearance and confidence of countless servicemen. His work earned him a lasting legacy in the field of reconstructive surgery, and his contributions are remembered as a vital part of Britain’s medical history during the war.

British 8th Army Lands at Taranto (1943)

On September 4, 1943, the British 8th Army landed at Taranto in southern Italy, marking the beginning of the Allied invasion of Italy during World War II. This operation, part of the broader strategy to defeat the Axis powers in Europe, aimed to open a new front in the war and weaken Germany’s control over Italy. The successful landing at Taranto was a critical step in the campaign that eventually led to the liberation of Italy.

The events of September 4 in Taranto were a significant milestone in the Allied war effort. The invasion of Italy shifted the momentum of the war in favor of the Allies, contributing to the eventual downfall of Mussolini’s regime and the collapse of Axis power in Europe. The landing at Taranto is remembered as a key operation that demonstrated the strength and determination of the British 8th Army and its role in the broader Allied victory.

No-Deal Brexit Banned (2019)

On September 4, 2019, a significant political event occurred in the UK when a group of MPs, often referred to as the “rebel alliance,” voted to ban a no-deal Brexit. This decision was a major setback for then-Prime Minister Boris Johnson, who had sought to keep the option of a no-deal exit from the European Union on the table. The same day, the MPs also rejected Johnson’s call for a snap election, further complicating the political landscape.

The vote on September 4 was a critical moment in the Brexit saga, reflecting the deep divisions within British politics and society over the issue. The decision to ban a no-deal Brexit was driven by concerns over the potential economic and social impacts of leaving the EU without an agreement. This event highlighted the complexities of the Brexit process and the challenges faced by the UK in navigating its future relationship with Europe.

Conclusion

The events of September 4 in British history showcase a wide array of significant moments that have shaped the nation’s development. From religious conflicts and royal escapades to scientific breakthroughs and military operations, each event reflects the diversity and complexity of Britain’s historical narrative. This date serves as a reminder of the nation’s resilience, innovation, and influence on the global stage, contributing to the rich tapestry of British history.

[phawareglobal]

Harm Bogaard, MD - phaware® interview 450

Harm Bogaard, MD, Ph.D., FAHA is a pulmonologist at the Amsterdam UMC. In this episode, he discusses the role of genetic testing in the treatment of patients with pulmonary hypertension at its role in clinical research.

My name is Harm Bogaard. I'm a pulmonologist here in Amsterdam in the Netherlands. I work at the National Expert Center for pulmonary hypertension patients. We have a clinic, obviously, with patients mainly with idiopathic and hereditary PAH. We also have a chronic thromboembolic pulmonary hypertension (CTEPH) program with diagnostics, surgeries, balloon pulmonary angioplasty. In addition to my clinical work, we have a translational lab to find out more about different forms of pulmonary hypertension and its treatment.

Today, I would like to talk about genetic testing that we do in our patients. I think we do it a little bit more frequently than it's done in the United States. I think it's an interesting topic for a number of reasons. I think it can help in clinical care of our patients. It can help in making decisions in life about things like having a family, thinking about the chances of your kids, if you already have kids, that they might develop pulmonary hypertension. But I also think that there are important research opportunities by doing more genetic testing and looking more at the genetics of pulmonary hypertension.  There's a new treatment coming up. You may have heard of it, Sotatercept. It's really quite a promising development for the treatment of pulmonary hypertension. The reason why we found this drug, why research has been done into this drug, is basically because over the past 20 years, we've started to learn more about the genetics of pulmonary hypertension. So also from that perspective, I think it's really useful to pay some attention to the genetics of pulmonary hypertension. 

In patients that we diagnose with pulmonary arterial hypertension when there's no known association, so there's no connective tissue disease or there's no congenital heart disease, there's no obvious cause for their pulmonary arterial hypertension, we always offer genetic testing. It's of course not mandatory. Before we do genetic testing, we refer our patients to a clinical geneticists to discuss all the pros and cons of genetic testing, but at least we offer it to all of our patients that could be idiopathic, because there's no known cause. But if you do the genetic testing and you find the cause, it's no longer idiopathic, but it's hereditary PH. I think that the guidelines indicate that you can offer this or that you can suggest this. This is not a mandatory thing. It's not proven that doing genetic testing will improve outcomes of patients, but still, for a number of reasons, we think it's useful to offer genetic testing or at least genetic counseling to our patients. 

I have to say in the Dutch situation, I think the majority of patients when they are offered genetic testing and after they've talked to the clinical geneticists, they do opt for genetic testing. Then on average, maybe one in five, one in six of our patients will show to have a genetic mutation that can be considered the cause of their disease. Of course, there are mental considerations or psychological considerations. Also, a lot of people worry about the legal consequences of genetic testing. 

To start with, the psychological aspects. I think a lot of patients who do their research, sooner or later they will stumble upon this issue that the disease might be genetic. This always kind of hangs out there and people are thinking about this and genetic testing in most instances, it will clear the skies because if no genetic mutation is found, of course, then there's no longer any worry that your children or your siblings might develop the disease. 

If you do find the mutation, it can also be helpful because this can increase the alertness, so being alert with your children, for example, if they do develop symptoms, you can be a little bit quicker maybe with finding some medical help and to have an early diagnosis. Knowing that you are at certain risk to develop the disease allows you to diagnose the disease early. We also know now that early diagnosis improves outcomes. Of course also, it has psychological downsides. Not very infrequently, you hear patients that are being diagnosed with hereditary PH who already have children that they feel kind of guilty. It's strange, because of course it's none of their fault, but they do feel like, oh, I've passed this along to my children and now they may also be at risk of this disease. That can cause some psychological stress for some people. But in most instances I think it gives a better grip, a better handle on the disease and allows you to do something for your children.

Then, there are some other things that you can consider about family planning. You can think about this maybe more carefully. There are things that you can do to minimize the risk of passing on the mutated gene to your offspring. There are possibilities that open up and that you can start to think about. When it comes to the legal issues, it's of course different in every country. In most European countries, the legal ramifications of knowing that you have a mutation that is a risk factor for pulmonary hypertension is not too much. You can still get a mortgage. You can still buy life insurance. In fact, if you already know that there's pulmonary hypertension in your family, you would have to say this because this is a potentially genetic disease. It doesn't change. Only if you test negatively, in fact, you can say this, but if you don't test, there's uncertainty. So you still have to indicate this. 

But in the Netherlands, the insurance companies, they cannot charge you. If you know you're a mutation carrier, but you're healthy, insurance companies cannot charge you more for their insurance fees or whatever, or they cannot give you a higher interest rate for your mortgage just because you carry this mutation. That would not be possible. There's some exceptions, like super high life insurance. If you want to ensure your life for multiple millions of euros or dollars, then it may have some consequences. But generally, there are no legal consequences of knowing you have a mutation. 

I don't know what the cost is in the US, obviously, but the costs have really come down for all these genetic tests. What is usually done, it's not like a whole genome sequencing, but it's a focus panel of somewhere between 10 and 20 genes. It varies a little bit hospital by hospital which genes are being tested, but it's a limited panel of genes that may be involved in development of pulmonary hypertension that will be tested. So it's not a super expensive test, but still, I know that in the US in general, it's not reimbursed. 

In the clinical management of a patient, knowing that there is a mutation, it gives some information, for example, in prognosis. In general, hereditary PH in all the cohorts, it tended to be a little bit more aggressive than other forms of idiopathic PH. That gives you more reason to be quite aggressive with upfront treatment. So upfront triple therapy is something that is considered really early on in a patient with a mutation. In fact, the data showed that if you do this, so if you find a mutation and you decide to give fairly aggressive upfront triple therapy, prognosis becomes actually really good.

In some of those patients, maybe a choice would've been made by giving just oral combination therapy. But now by knowing that there is a genetic cause of the disease, treatment may be escalated earlier on and this could improve outcomes. But I think a lot of the ramifications for genetic testing are not just for the individual but also for the family members. That's actually where a lot of the consequences also are. So being informed about your own genetic cause of your disease allows you to alert your family members, children, siblings, to make them think about doing genetic testing as well so that they are better informed about the potential risk that they are at to develop pulmonary hypertension. They can consider this, they can consider genetic testing, and if a mutation is found, they can be surveyed and more closely, which I'm convinced really helps them. It has happened too often also in our practice that you see a sibling of a patient with pulmonary arterial hypertension that you treated maybe 10 years ago and unfortunately passed away. Then, this sibling comes in also at a very late stage of the disease and it feels like such a missed opportunity. If you would've known that this sibling had the same mutation, you probably would've made an early diagnosis and could have done a lot for this sibling in this case. 

But coming back to a patient who already has pulmonary hypertension in whom you detect a mutation, there are some consequences to clinical management in terms of being maybe a little bit more upfront with combination therapies. Where it also informs is I think particularly in young patients in family planning. This is something that people do consider, like could I pass along the mutation to my children? You can think about this. If you want, there are techniques to avoid passing on the gene to your offspring. That's also something that you can consider then. That's of course both for male and female patients. 

We've done some research into this also and how people like this best. These things are slow. You do genetic testing and it takes a couple of months before you get the result back, so it's all quite slow. But if you do get the positive result back, you do have a genetic mutation, we used to give just a letter on paper to this patient. We will tell him or her, like you can distribute this to your children, your siblings, your cousins. This created actually quite a bit of barriers. Some people obviously wanted this, but for a lot of other people also, this created some hurdles. So what we do right now, if we identify a new patient with PH and with a mutation, we just offer a Zoom session or Teams, like just a kitchen table session.

We tell this patient, invite everybody you want in your family, send them the link or invite them over to your home, and I will be online and they can ask all the questions that they have. We do it in a more personal way, but then by Zoom or by Teams. This works actually quite well, because you can directly answer all the questions that they have. It doesn't mean that everybody wants testing, of course, because there are pros and cons. But I think in terms of giving information, it really helps them. 

We have a research program, unaffected mutation carriers. So all the relatives that we do detect a mutation in, we offer them to come in every year and to do mainly a baseline. We do a CT scan and an MRI. They come in every year and we do an echo and an exercise test and we take blood samples. The whole idea is obviously to identify the development of pulmonary hypertension really early on, which happens. In this program, we do detect pulmonary hypertension early. I think we've helped quite a few people by doing this. But there's also an interesting scientific aspect of this because we collect blood samples from all these individuals. In those individuals that do develop pulmonary hypertension, we have historical blood samples or imaging or whatever kind of biomarker we took. Of course, it's unfortunate because they developed the disease, but if we gather more and more data, that could help us to identify an early marker of the disease. 

Right now, we diagnose the disease because patients basically develop heart failure because that's why you get symptoms, not because your pulmonary vessels become sick, but because your heart is not able to cope with it any longer. But it's quite likely that your pulmonary vascular diseases happens much earlier than heart failure. We hope by having this program that ultimately, we will be able to maybe identify a blood biomarker that could become an early a test for early diagnosis of pulmonary hypertension. That's of course something that everybody would really like to have, to have a simple blood test that enables early diagnosis. That's also an interesting aspect of following these unaffected mutation carriers. We do this collaboratively with a cohort in France and a cohort in Germany and the UK. All these countries, they do genetic testing. So together, we follow quite a few unaffected mutation carriers now. Hopefully in the next couple of years we will be able to identify some useful biomarkers.

I'm Harm Bogaard, and I'm aware that my patients are rare.

Learn more about pulmonary hypertension trials at www.phaware.global/clinicaltrials. Follow us on social @phaware Engage for a cure: www.phaware.global/donate #phaware Share your story: info@phaware.com #phawareMD 

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[johnjankovic1]

Maritime Nationalism

He who commands the sea has command of everything. Themistocles, c.525-460 BC

Both protectionism and strategic investment have been mainstays in America’s buildup of its Merchant Marine whether by cabotage or subsidies since its divorce from the metropolitan power of Britain. In the post-independence era statesmen began in earnest to cradle waterborne commerce against the predations of Europe’s many empires in the Mercantilist Age. No longer a captive market or a feedstock of Old Europe the New World of America came to be emancipated from the yoke of subjugation to claim sovereignty once and for all over its proper interests. From that point onward the country would be spared from Britannia’s monopoly. Economic growth so became a function of efforts meant to fructify an armada of ships as the young republic was poised to command the high seas. Seafarers who braved the open waters with the countenance of Congress went on to carve out new trade routes bereft of the previous restrictions prevalent under the jackboot of British colonialism. In fact right in the thick of the Revolutionary War was the Treaty of Amity and Commerce of 1778 negotiated with France to export commodities and import manufactures. Access to French ports gifted America with a ‘Most-Favoured Nation’ status whereby its trade advantages would be as favourable as any other counterpart with such privilege.

This parity in trade relations not only vouchsafed greater autonomy to the fledgling economy through the diversification of markets but it was a fillip to industrial development as well. The influx of capital goods which circumvented both colonial and agrarian dependence quickly became the grist for manufacturing. America’s lowly status as a supplier for raw goods would be no more when the paradigm of exploitation codified by Britain’s Navigation Acts came to be undone. Exports from the homeland thus began to skirt the predatory practices endemic to Britain’s dealings with its colonies. Those prohibitively high tariffs that once hobbled America’s industries gave way to a stronger purchasing power whereby capital accumulation could be more keenly ploughed into investments for machines and factories. This shift of production factors essentially laid the foundations for the Industrial Revolution in the 19th century on the opposite side of the Atlantic. Finally American industries stopped being curtailed when the growing profitability of cash crops were not marauded by tariffs in a stark departure from the mores of mercantilism under Britain (Eckes 1995). This newfound inflow of capital set America upon the path of industrialization whilst its cities evolved into hives of commercial activity.

Industrial policy buttressing maritime trade had an intimate symbiosis with urban growth as the economy matured. Over time a panoply of consequences saw a throng of dockworkers and businesses coalesce around the magnet of shipyards in New York and Boston which epitomized gateways to Atlantic trade. In short order did the copious amounts of cargo to these ports transform them from sedate outposts into the beating heart of America’s industrialization. Like a beacon in the dark the wealth generated here attracted immigrants and migrants alike who in turn changed the profile of these metropolises in indelible ways. It was within this melting pot of people and goods that the Buttonwood Agreement of 1792 emerged which heralded the genesis of the New York Stock Exchange and the creation of Wall Street that was once the physical wall on the periphery of the New Amsterdam settlement (Eisenstadt 1994). The reason why banks proliferated most prominently in New York was in virtue of how merchants and traders availed themselves of these institutions to manage their earnings whereby the financial sector found itself wedded to the maritime industry. Pursuant to the laws of unintended consequences Wall Street was therefore intrinsically a function of New York City’s thriving docks by catering to the nouveau riche.

Around the same time the Tonnage Act of 1789 further cultivated the indigenous maritime industry to run athwart of the legions of fleets from established merchants across the sea. To build, be a proprietor of or operate an American ship was given greater prominence than the scores of vessels registered outside of the territory. The genius of this industrial policy was to proffer a substantial cost advantage to the domestic industry so it may wean itself off from Europe’s hegemony. Where shipbuilding once languished this new incentive by government design beckoned shipwrights to produce at scale so they may remedy the disparity that would follow from American harbours being less hospitable to foreign craft. Those behemoths in the water made at home were subjected to nominal tariffs of only 6 cents per ton whereas others were levied 50 cents for the equivalent mass (Miller 1960: 19). Naturally it became more profitable to ferry goods aboard domestic ships whereby in less than a decade 94 percent of vessels entering mainland ports originated from the Union (Hutchins 1941). Not only did this Act serve as a source of revenue for the federal government but it equally hedged against industry being overwhelmed by European competitors. This stratagem of bestowing preferential rates onto native ship producers aroused the growth of the maritime sector.

By the mid-18th century the fruits of this partiality towards American shipbuilders saw their gross tonnage of craft reach 3.5m only second to Britain’s 3.8m. Where the Merchant Marine acquired their comparative advantage was in the ready supply of oak timber and pine masts that could be exploited to build the variety of barques, brigs, schooners and clippers with gusto (Hutchins 1941: 172). This taxonomy of ships was turned out in large numbers since America prospered from natural endowments of production factors that were scarcely found in such bounty elsewhere. Whilst this deficit handicapped other economies the eastern seaboard was left immune to this affliction of timber famine. It was particularly the fallowed lands of Maine where vast stores of wood could be felled next to tidewaters whose location was propitious for sawmills in close vicinity. The short haul of local timber was just one of many cost advantages conducing to a maritime industry of international repute. Economies were aplenty in the midst of the early years so long as it was not necessary to venture deep into the interior across marshes for the purpose of cutting down forest lest shipyards become crippled by the paucity of inputs. In the fourth quarter of the 18th century shipbuilding was then a staple for the seaboard economy as production intensified.

[somethingimworkingon]

Zanele Muholi, Tate Modern

Walking into the Zanele Muholi exhibition at Tate Modern is like discovering another country.

In 2017 Muholi’s ongoing self-portrait series, Somnyama Ngonyama/Hail the Dark Lioness, was exhibited in London’s Autograph Gallery. In press reviews and posters on the tube that autumn, the images were unmissable and unmistakeable: stark black and white photographs of an impassive face crowned with Brillo pads or clothes pegs, festooned with vacuum cleaner hoses. At the time, Autograph wrote, the artist: “uses her body as a canvas to confront the politics of race and representation… Gazing defiantly at the camera, Muholi challenges the viewer’s perceptions while firmly asserting her cultural identity on her own terms: black, female, queer, African.”

Fast forward to 2020, and Tate Modern’s major Zanele Muholi exhibition. Visiting hours at the museum flicker in and out of existence as we navigate COVID lockdowns – now you can come! No, wait, sorry, you can’t. Try rebooking for a month’s time.

When I finally squeaked in, in early December, I expected more Dark Lionesses. I had a vague idea that Zanele Muholi was a bit like a South African Cindy Sherman.

I was wrong.

This exhibition shows the breadth of Muholi’s practice, of which the self-portraits are just one strand. The range and energy of the work is astounding. Especially given that in 2012 their studio was burgled and five years of work on hard drives was stolen.

Another mental adjustment: Muholi’s pronouns are they/them/theirs.

Born in Umlazi, South Africa, in 1972, at the height of Apartheid, Zanele’s father died when they were a baby and their mother, Bester, a domestic worker, had to leave her eight children for employment in a white household. Zanele was brought up by extended family. They started working as a hairdresser, then studied photography at Market Photo Workshop in Johannesburg, graduating in 2003, and going on to be awarded their MFA in Documentary Media from Ryerson University in Toronto in 2009.

On returning to South Africa they started to document the lives of the LGBTQI+ community.

Aftermath (2004)

The exhibition opens with a group of deceptively gentle images. In the first, Aftermath (2004), a torso is cropped from waist to knees, hands modestly clasped in front of Jockey shorts, a huge scar running down the person’s right leg almost like a piece of body art. In another, Ordeal (2003), hands wring out a cloth in an enamel basin of water placed on a floor. A third image shows a cropped, seated figure, again waist to thighs, hands folded in their lap, plastic hospital ties around their wrists. These pictures have a softness and beauty which completely belies the fact that their subjects are all survivors of sexual violence and “corrective rape”.

As the caption to the last picture, Hate crime survivor I, Case number (2004) explains, “Corrective rape is a term used to describe a hate crime in which a person is raped because of their perceived sexual orientation or gender identity. The intended consequence of such acts is to enforce heterosexuality and gender conformity.” This horrific practice is by no means unique to South Africa, but the term seems to have originated there – feminist activist Bernedette Muthien used it during an interview with Human Rights Watch in 2001 – and its effects on the community resonate throughout this exhibition.

Ordeal (2003)

They don’t, however, dominate. While the exhibition starts by showing the evils of intolerance of gender nonconformity, Muholi goes on to reclaim, elevate and celebrate that same nonconformity.

With Being (2006 – ongoing) we move on to photographs of naked bodies entwined – again tightly cropped, again soft black and white, but now without outside interference. They are sensual, personal, and owned. A series of portraits of two female lovers, Katlego Mashiloane and Nosipho Lavuta (2007) switches to colour and full figures. The couple sit entwined, laughing: they kiss, and bathe side by side standing in an enamel basin, in a warm, defiant echo of the scene in Ordeal (2003) across the room.

Katlego Mashiloane and Nosipho Lavuta, Ext.2, Lakeside, Johannesburg (2007)

The series Brave Beauties, started in 2014, is “a series of portraits of trans women, gender non-conforming and non-binary people. Many of them are also beauty pageant contestants.” The queer beauty pageant is many things: a celebration – and redefinition – of beauty, a declaration of independence by contestants, a challenge to “heteronormative and white supremacist cultures,” and an attempt, as Muholi puts it, “to change mind-sets in the communities [the contestants] live in, the same communities where they are most likely to be harassed or worse.”

Melissa Mbambo, Durban, South Beach (2017). Melissa Mbambo is a trans woman and beauty queen, Miss Gay South Africa 2017

Roxy Msizi Dlamini, Parktown, Johannesburg (2018)

Akeelah Gwala, Durban (2020)

These portraits are made collaboratively, Muholi and the subjects choosing clothing, location and poses together. Some of them, like the picture of Roxy Msizi Dlamini (2018) have the quality of a classic glamorous studio shot. Others, like Akeeleh Gwala, Durban (2020), posing in a bikini against a scruffy brick wall in what seems to be a deserted brick alleyway, are a reminder of the vulnerability of the subject. Akeelah Gwala’s “Testimony” in the exhibition catalogue says: “I am 24 years old. I am a transgender woman. Growing up was very difficult because your parents think this is a boy… I was raped when I was 16 years old…” The rapist, a well-known pastor, threatened Akeelah’s family, forcing them out of their home. Akeelah refers to Muholi as “Sir Muholi” and says, “I have taken part in several beauty pageants. I perform because as a Brave Beauty, it is important to be visible and make others know about us and respect us as human beings.”

Miss Lesbian I-VII, Amsterdam (2009)

The theme of beauty pageants also features in the series of self-portraits Miss Lesbian I-VII, Amsterdam (2009), where Muholi casts themself as a beauty queen, an early identification with the wider community prefiguring Brave Beauties. The 2009 series brings together several of Muholi’s themes: the beauty pageant and the fashion/fashion magazine world; who gets to perform and who gets to watch; who gets to choose what beauty means? And, as an aside that may sound trivial but isn’t, kitchen utensils as headgear.

As the exhibition unfolds, we discover other projects. Muholi describes themselves as a visual activist, and they have a large network of collaborators, including the collective Inkanyiso (“Light” or “Illuminate” in isiZulu), a non-profit organisation focused on queer visual activism. We see images documenting marches and protests, weddings and funerals, and “After Tears” – gatherings held after burials to celebrate the life of the lost loved one.

Nathi Dlamini at the After Tears of Muntu Masombuka’s funeral, KwaThema, Springs, Johannesburg (2014)

Death is a constant presence in Muholi’s community and work. The largest space in this exhibition is given to Faces and Phases (2006 – ongoing), a collection of portraits – 500, and counting. The images “celebrate, commemorate and archive the lives of Black lesbians, transgender and gender non-conforming individuals.” People appear more than once. Some spots on the walls are empty, marking a portrait yet to be taken or a participant no longer there. One wall is dedicated to those who have passed away.

Not only is this a powerful and moving project, it’s an extraordinarily beautiful set of pictures. As are the last works in the show, the series that started in 2012: Somnyama Ngonyama, Hail the Dark Lioness.

In this work, Muholi has darkened their skin and whitened their eyes, and composed the picture in the manner of a classical, perfectly-lit studio portrait, posing with found objects as “costume” – a footstool as a helmet, say. There is so much to unpick in these images – references to colonialism, Apartheid, to the politics of race and representation, to femininity and “women’s work”.  Muholi presents us with a kaleidoscope of views of injustice, equal parts beautiful and brutal. The photographs were created in different parts of the world, at different times, combining what could almost be witty accessorising with intense cultural and political commentary.

Quinso, The Sails, Durban (2019)

The intellectual focus of every picture is slightly different. Zamile, KwaThema (2016) shows Muholi draped in a striped blanket, as used in South African prisons during Apartheid. In Quinso, The Sails, Durban (2019) Muholi’s hair is adorned with silvery Afro combs, a symbol of African and African diaspora cultural pride. In Nolwazi II, Nuoro, Italy (2015) their hair is stuffed with pens – a reference to the “pencil test” whereby, under Apartheid, if a pencil pushed into a person’s hair fell out they were “classified as white”.

Nolwazi II, Nuoro, Italy (2015)

As mentioned above, Muholi calls themselves a visual activist rather than an artist – though galleries, like Tate Modern, might beg to disagree. Walking through this exhibition, I came away with the impression that their work is on the intersection of art and documentary photography – but also that everything is documentary: everything is story telling, and bearing witness, and the place where “documenting the community” and “expressing oneself as an artist” is continually blurred.

Maybe it’s not just like discovering a new country: maybe Zanele Muholi is showing us a whole new world.

Zanele Muholi is at Tate Modern until May 31, 2021

[tthael]

I really admire so many things about your writing - the introspection and deep meaning, the realistic and sensitive way that you handle topics. Do you have any recs for fav media/books/tv shows/fanfics ? I guess I'm curious if there are any you think might have similar qualities/themes?

This is a tough one because basically everything I consume gets picked apart and reused in some way. However, I’ll give it a shot:

The Book Thief and I Am the Messenger by Markus Zusak. There’s quite a lot I like about Zusak’s use of language and have since 2007 when I read The Book Thief for the first time, and there’s something very cinematic and magical about I Am the Messenger (particularly in the chapter with the young track runner).

The Bone Clocks by David Mitchell. He’s most commonly known for Cloud Atlas, but he has an ongoing theme of vampires and cannibalism reappearing in his work (I just read Slade House for the first time while I was in quarantine) and there’s something deeply satisfying about the way that all of the disparate pieces come to fruition at the climax of The Bone Clocks. Not a perfect book, but deeply satisfying.

The Lacuna by Barbara Kingsolver. Again, she’s most commonly known for The Poisonwood Bible, but I liked that well enough to read The Lacuna in 2013, and I completely hated it for the first half of the book until finally something clicked in my brain and I activated the literary critic within, who doesn’t care so much about whether they enjoy something and more cares about how well something is done. The description of US American rationing during World War II really got me onto the novel’s side, if that makes sense; and I do love a good family epic, and while this only focuses on one protagonist instead of generations of them, it’s interesting in a similar way to The Bone Clocks where you see everything start to snowball together.

Literally anything by Ursula Vernon/T. Kingfisher. I particularly recommend The Raven and The Reindeer, which I read shortly after being diagnosed with my chronic illness and really helped me to understand the irrelevance of shame. There’s something very satisfying about saying “a reindeer doesn’t care if it smells bad, so I’m going to lean into that particular apathy and not allow a bully to take me down over it.” Something comforting about taking shelter in the animal and in survival, when you and your body are in one place and working on the same side, and it’s your brain that’s ready to give up first but your body will keep dragging you through because that’s what it does. Certain lines in Indelicate were inspired by her adaptation of Tam Lin in Jackalope Wives and other Stories (https://www.amazon.com/Jackalope-Wives-Other-Stories-Kingfisher-ebook/dp/B071946RLN). Lots of her short stories are available at this link for free: http://www.redwombatstudio.com/portfolio/writing/short-stories/

TV’s a little harder to unpack, since I don’t always think in terms of visual media, I tend to default to words first. Recently I’ve been enjoying New Amsterdam on NBC--it’s nice to see the radical socialist doctor doing his damnedest to secure the right thing--and Call the Midwife--similar reasons. There’s a lot about meeting someone where they are in both shows that I appreciate.

There’s also a lot of music that inspires my writing so I’ll have to dedicate a post specifically to that in my methods and materials.

Fanfic, though! Lots of my favorites, lots of genres. Here we go:

we are all stardust by synergenic (Losseflame) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/5682496) Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens, pairing Finn/Poe Dameron. Sexually explicit, but also leans a lot into physicality. You can probably see the influence on the very first chapter of Indelicate when Eddie’s waking up in pain and Richie’s at his bedside. It’s very much inspired by a similar sickbed scene here.

If They Haven’t Learned Your Name by silentwalrus (https://archiveofourown.org/works/6329503) Captain America/Marvel Cinematic Universe Steve Rogers/James “Bucky” Barnes. The holy grail of Steve/Bucky fanfiction. If you want independent character exploration, this is the place to go. Natasha shaving her head? Yes. Sam pleading with Steve to keep his shit together while thirty Koren grandmothers assume they are American celebrities? Yes. Bucky defiantly hunting down his sense of self while bingeing romance novels in a space ship? Yes. Pay particular attention to the Sam chapters, because they’re a beautiful way of defining Steve’s characterization from an outside perspective, and I’m trying to do the same with Eddie looking at Richie in Indelicate.

An Ever-Fixed Mark by AMarguerite (https://archiveofourown.org/works/8523001) Pride & Prejudice (Jane Austen) Elizabeth Bennet/Colonel Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy. Soulmark AU. This is one of my longtime favorite fanfictions and what it taught me was cause and effect. The characters move the plot forward based on their assumptions and decisions. Definitely very helpful when I was writing TTHAEL by the seat of my pants.

You Can Keep Holding On by NorthernSparrow (https://archiveofourown.org/works/7233709) Supernatural Dean Winchester/Castiel. Sexually explicit. A lot of the summary I can give here is spoilers, but if you read this one through, you’ll be able to see the inspiration for the “Can you tell me where I can get another Eddie Kaspbrak?” scene in Indelicate.

Work of All Saints by antistar_e (kaikamahine) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/15006644) Coco (2017) Imelda Rivera/Héctor Rivera/Ernesto de la Cruz. Sexually mature. Oh my GOD this is a beautiful coming-of-age story set in turn-of-the-century Oaxaca, this is the best complete expansion of canon that I’ve ever seen; the author takes the pieces and runs with them and it is WONDERFUL.

Lycanthropic Studies by Eiiri (https://archiveofourown.org/series/575263) Harry Potter, Remus Lupin/Sirius Black canon-divergence AU. I very much enjoy the meditation on lycanthropy as a chronic illness and I sometimes reread this for comfort. Particularly early on Remus has a rant about how he’s sick and he’s always sick and his life doesn’t stop for it, despite holidays and birthdays he still has to deal with the consequences of his illness and take the devastating medication, and there’s a lot about that that speaks to me. I haven’t kept up with the series for some time, though.

Careful Truths by SassySnowperson (https://archiveofourown.org/works/12111966) Rogue One: A Star Wars Story, Bodhi Rook/Luke Skywalker canon-divergence AU. Sexually explicit. Honestly identity p!rn fics are a good inspiration for that third-person limited perspective I’ve been working on in Indelicate. Also I love love LOVE Bodhi Rook. It’s fun watching him run in circles trying to conceal his identity from Luke while completely oblivious to Luke doing exactly the same thing.

Stammtisch by chaya (https://archiveofourown.org/works/15060152) Critical Role: Season 2, Caleb Widogast/Mollymauk Tealeaf, AU. Sexually explicit. Long before Caleb actually leveled up enough to cast Mordenkainen’s Magnificent Mansion, chaya speculated about what kind of spaces he might create for each of his friends. I think it’s a very good resource for really condensing characterization down into lots of images and concepts and deciding what other characters know about them. The idea of making space for someone else is something that I lean into a lot when I write Ben, who’s the kind of man who will set himself on fire to keep those he loves warm, and even though Critical Role has far more material than even IT for determining characterization, and even though this particular moment has already occurred in canon--it’s just a wonderful homey story, and has the kind of found family vibes I like for the Losers as well.

I know that’s a lot to unpack there, but all of those fics are very good and I recommend reading any assortment that appeals to you. (Work of All Saints in particular you don’t have to be familiar with the source material beyond the basic premise; it stands on its own.) Thank you for asking, and thank you for reading!

[1dsource]

Author Spotlight: flamboyo_xx

Don’t forget to show the author to leave kudos and comments to show the author love!

Amsterdam With You

Words: 182k

In Louis’ opinion Amsterdam is so overrated, and now that he moved here he can see all its flaws: it’s always raining (even more than in London), he’s lonely and everyone he meets is unfriendly and distant; but, above all, he misses his family like crazy, confined here. Not surprising how being hit by a bike by a curly, pensive guy is the best thing that happens to him in three months (or maybe even in 27 years).

Or: how to fall in love in a city that you hate, featuring protests, lights, books, cuddles and a whole lot of growth (and tea).

I learned how to love, ‘cause you taught me how

Words: 10k

He shouldn’t have drunk that morning, he should have stood his ground, protested, said something, anything, but- It already happened, he reminds himself. He already did it.

He doesn’t have any control over any aspect of his life. Everyone just wants a piece of him, they will take whatever they want from him and leave him with the consequences.

Or, the aftermath of Liam’s naked photoshoot (+ some months later, when he has another photoshoot, but this time under his own terms).

Captain Zappers Game

Words: 5.8k

“I’ve already said no. I’m not exploiting my relationships for money and clout.”

“Mr. Tomlinson-”

“No. I drew the line at Harry, and now I’m drawing another one at Zayn, too.”

A new video streaming platform offers Louis and Zayn to sponsor their program, knowing how they’re both interested in video games, and how loyal their fanbase is. The only problem? For the general public, Louis and Zayn are still arch-enemies who had a row in 2015 and never recovered, not re-found best friends who love each other (if possible) even more than before.

Based on this dream I had.

Love Move Like The Sea

“Of course I want to stay with you, I missed you, you know? We haven't spent so much time apart since…” Harry’s smile dims a bit. “Well, we've never done it.”

There's a hint of a question there, a why. Why did you stop reaching out, why did we stop talking for months?

Louis doesn’t answer. He can’t say, ‘I was hoping that by ignoring you for months I would have fallen out of love with you, and it didn’t even happen’ on their first day of vacation, can he?

Spending two weeks in his uncle's old house by Lee Bay beach is not Louis' ideal holiday, but sadly is the only one he can afford this summer. Spending those alone with Harry, his best friend who he has spent the last five years in love with, may make everything a little better, though. Away from everyday reality, alone somewhere that makes you forget your past and gloss over your future, maybe it's time for two friends to finally explore what they haven't said (but felt) for years.

[mariacallous]

As Warsaw emerged from a third wave of the pandemic, the beginning of the summer in the city saw squares and the banks of the Vistula River fill with tourists and young people keen to go back to a semblance of normality. Veteran women’s rights activist Krystyna Kacpura, however, did not have that option.

Kacpura heads the Federation of Women and Family Planning (FEDERA), a small reproductive rights organisation founded in 1991. She has been working non-stop since the ban was announced, answering dozens of calls from women, some of them simply concerned about how they could be affected in the future. She says more than 2,000 women made contact with FEDERA between October and April alone.

“Every day we receive several calls from women from different parts of Poland,” Kacpura says in a park in the southern suburb of Warsaw, where she lives in a Soviet-era residential block. “They went from doctor to doctor, from hospital to hospital. And even if some gynaecologists … understand this difficult situation of women, they are so frightened. They’re afraid of being imprisoned or to lose their right to the profession.”

Her organisation, though, was targeted directly for its work. Earlier this year, she and her staff received emails with bomb and death threats from unknown senders, becoming one of at least seven women’s rights groups to come under fire since the protests, according to a March report by Human Rights Watch, which condemned the escalating threats to activists. The government responded (PDF) saying it was committed to the protection of human rights in Poland and that some of the cases had been referred to district prosecutors and were being investigated.

Meanwhile, Kacpura and others continue with their work, often walking the very thin line of being part of a network of pro-choice activists and medical professionals willing to provide assistance within the boundaries of the law.

“Sharing information, informing and educating people is not punishable,” Kacpura explains, adding that among other things, they are planning on organising legal workshops for gynaecologists and doctors aimed at explaining the boundaries of the new law and that, as she puts it, “it is not their duty to call the police”. In a handful of extreme cases, women have been able to get abortions on grounds that carrying on with the pregnancy would damage their mental health, after consulting a psychiatrist. But finding a hospital willing to perform the abortion remains difficult, even with medical evidence of serious mental health consequences. The most realistic option remains for women to travel abroad.

‘If you have money’

Polish women have been travelling to other European countries for abortions for years. Even before the ban, conscientious objection – the possibility that a doctor may refuse to perform an abortion based on their personal or religious beliefs – made legal abortions difficult. Despite the restrictive legislation, the United Nations estimates that anywhere between 80,000 and 180,000 informal abortions take place in Poland every year. The vast majority are self-managed medical abortions – with pills women buy online, and that the World Health Organization considers safe to practise at home in the early stages of pregnancy.

One consequence of the large-scale protests in October has been the increased availability of abortion information, widely shared by activists at the protests and beyond. The phone number of a helpline linked to an existing transnational network of activists was shared widely, with posters plastered everywhere from cities to small towns, and musicians posting catchy songs with the phone number online. According to Abortion Network Amsterdam, a group that supports women who do not have access to safe abortion, the number of Polish women contacting them has spiked since the ban, with the vast majority being foetal abnormality cases.

Still, women in small towns and traditionally conservative areas face additional stigma and struggle with anonymity. The pandemic made it even more difficult for those women to make excuses to travel abroad when all but essential travel was halted. While organisations that support women living in countries where abortion is banned or restricted do exist, access remains unequal.

“It’s very difficult for a woman living in small towns and villages to go to Netherlands, even if she is assisted and helped by some activists,” Kacpura says. “You know, she never travelled, she can’t understand that she has to go somewhere to end her difficult pregnancy.”

“So this is the kind of reproductive injustice in Poland, that you can buy a safe legal abortion if you have money,” Kacpura says.

-The mental health cost of Poland’s abortion ban

[hedgewitchgarden]

In 1992, a Canadian ecologist named William Rees coined the term “ecological footprint,” a measurement of how much any entity was impacting the planet’s ecology. A decade later, British Petroleum started promoting a new term: “carbon footprint.”  In a splashy ad campaign, the company unveiled the first of its many carbon footprint calculators as a way for individuals to measure how their daily actions—what they eat, where they work, how they heat their home—impact global warming.

BP did not adopt the footprint imagery by accident. In the 30 years prior to the carbon footprint campaign, polluting companies had been using advertising to link pollution and climate change to personal choices. These campaigns, most notably the long-running Keep America Beautiful campaign, imply that individuals, rather than corporations, bear the responsibility for change.

“It was done so intentionally,” says Susan Hassol, director of the nonprofit science outreach group Climate Communication. “It’s a deflection.”

The universal adoption of the term “carbon footprint” hasn’t just changed how we speak about climate change. It’s changed how we think about it. Climate change has become an individual problem, caused by our insatiable appetite for consumption, and therefore a war that must be waged on our dinner plates and gas tanks, a hero’s journey from consumer to conservationist.

Yet the reality is that the future of civilization is being decided at a political and corporate level that no individual can impact. Just 100 companies are responsible for 71% of global emissions. Fossil fuel giants are funding climate change skepticism while simultaneously lobbying for tens of billions of dollars in subsidies. Big corporate names like Costco and Netflix are loudly committing to reduce emissions but unable to set meaningful targets or put plans in place. The Trump administration rolled back more than 100 environmental rules and regulations.

The reality is that the future of civilization is being decided at a political and corporate level that no individual can impact.

The same way that you give your child a toy to play with so you can finish your task uninterrupted, everyday citizens are busy changing out lightbulbs and buying electric cars while the true cause of global warming continues uninterrupted: a civilization dependent on fossil fuels. As Mike Tidwell, the executive director of the Chesapeake Climate Action Network, wrote in a 2007 op-ed, “every time an activist or politician hectors the public to voluntarily reach for a new bulb or spend extra on a Prius, ExxonMobil heaves a big sigh of relief.” A complete paradigm shift is needed—both in the way we conceptualize our individual climate impact and in the ways we calculate the emission impacts of those ultimately responsible: corporations and governmental systems.

One of the challenges with the carbon footprint measurement is how few of the factors an individual controls. Most of us have limited options for where we live, how far we have to commute to get to work, what kind of energy is available to heat our homes, etc. If we don’t own our home (and more than 30% of Americans don’t), we may not be able to properly insulate or install high-efficiency appliances. One research report from the Norwegian University of Science and Technology found that roughly one third of a city dweller’s carbon footprint is determined by public transportation options and building infrastructure. “We build our cities this way,” Hassol says. “It’s system change that’s really needed so that people have better choices.”

The inadequacy of our carbon footprint as a driver of change is painfully highlighted when you look at single-use plastics. Much attention has been given to how much plastic Americans consume (35.3 million tons per year, enough to fill the 104 million-cubic-foot AT&T Stadium in Dallas every 16 hours) and how each individual should be changing their behavior to help combat this waste. Everywhere you look, there’s a campaign to recycle more, or use metal straws, or bring your own bag to the grocery store.

In contrast, there are no public campaigns about the fact that packaging, an area where consumer control is limited, is the top driver of plastic production by a significant margin. The emissions impact of plastic manufacturing itself is rarely mentioned, along with the fact that much of our recycling still ends up in landfills. Some of the poorest nations are left to deal with hundreds of thousands of tons of soft drink bottles. The plastics are often just incinerated, creating serious environmental and health consequences. It’s a question as to whose carbon footprint is making a deeper impact on the environment: the family whose lettuce comes sealed in plastic (and who pays, not only for the product, but also for the waste collection and management services), or the company that is continuing to package food products in plastic materials, and then opting out of responsibility for their disposal.

Even if we just wanted to measure individual impact on climate change, the carbon footprint falls painfully short: “The current concept of a carbon footprint is too narrowly drawn,” Hassol explains. “It’s only the things I’m actively using and doing in my personal life and it doesn’t draw on other actions that are perhaps more important in the big picture as far as addressing climate change.”

For example, the average American has a carbon footprint of 16 tons. The average individual footprint globally is 4 tons. But that calculation doesn’t include who you vote for, how you invest your money, who you work for (and how much you travel for work, versus for leisure), or how you talk about climate change and influence others to get involved. “All of that should be part of the way we conceptualize our impact,” Hassol says.

Instead of obsessing over a single metric, Cameron Brick, a social psychologist from the University of Amsterdam, says he urges people to have an ongoing and evolving conversation between themselves and their chosen lifestyle. “It’s not a single number, because anytime you pick a metric, then we will begin to game it,” he says. Instead, a minimal-carbon lifestyle is a process—one that involves community-building and continuing to make improvements over time, he says. “My lifestyle is not perfect either, but probably better each year.”

Hassol points out that one of the most important ways that an individual can impact emissions on a wider scale is also the hardest to calculate: social contagion. “When people do something, it affects others around them and their emissions,” she says.

Studies have shown that energy-related behaviors are heavily influenced by peer groups, even more than cost or convenience. A study in California showed that every time a solar panel was installed within a certain ZIP code, the probability of another installation in that area increased by 0.78%. Similarly, if you know somebody who has given up flying because of climate change, you are 50% more likely to also reduce your own air travel.

“Your individual footprint is not the full measure of your contribution because you’re encouraging other people through your personal actions,” explains Hassol. She recommends that people who want to do more should research community solar options and ways to buy into clean energy in their communities, and then publicize those options among their families, friends and social networks, in order to create that initial momentum for change.  

But what could system change look like? For starters, using measurements that actually hold the decision makers responsible for their emissions impacts, for the entire lifecycle of their product or service. That might look like Big Soda being held accountable not only for the manufacturing and transportation of their single-use plastics, but also for each and every bottle that ends up in somebody’s recycling bin (Coca-Cola is the top producer of plastic waste in the world). The shift also might look like emissions information being printed on product labels and unbiased regulatory bodies certifying the accuracy of corporate emissions reports.

On the policy level, interest in a carbon tax is growing. The Break Free From Plastic Pollution Act was reintroduced in Congress this year (as Senate bill 984 and House Resolution 2238), and would force a temporary moratorium on virgin plastic production, require minimum recycled content, and ban some single-use plastic food service items. Many states already have some form of a producer responsibility program, where the producer of hard-to-dispose products such as paints, batteries, and other hazardous materials, must finance proper disposal. This creates an incentive to design reusable or less-toxic products.  

When we shift the focus from changing consumer behavior to changing producer behavior, we see where true change happens: in corporate boardrooms and among political leaders. The irony of the carbon footprint is that individual action does have the power to change the world, just not on the lightbulb and recycling level.

“This problem is too big to solve voluntarily one person at a time,” Hassol says. “We need to change the system and you have a role in changing that system.”

[imagine-loki]

The Slutty Web One Weaves

Title : The Slutty Webs one Weaves

Chapter NO. 7 of 10?

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki’s Asgardian wife learns women write fanfiction about him on a trip to Midgard. She’s edgy for the duration and lets him have it when they get back.

Author: lokilover9

Rating: M

Astrid apologized, agreed to everything and Thor lead them to a location to hide their vehicle.

"Loki will be pleased to know your helping."

"I should have thought to from the start." She regrettably admitted.

Frigga hugged him. "Thank you for agreeing to take her back should this fail." ***** For eight days, their plan worked until her Father paid the palace an unexpected visit.

Odin was in the front courtyard boasting to some Einherjar about beating an Embassador at charades, when their commander, Nedvar, interrupted. "Ignoramus at twelve o'clock, Sire."

The King groaned. "Splendid. It's Rodderick the dipshit."

"Give the word and we'll pitch him over the wall."

"Tempting, but what do I tell my daughter in law?" Odin hated the occasionally unkempt Lord who preferred perfuming to bathing and greeted him from behind a hedge. "Welcome Roddy. I look so forward to your unscheduled visits."

The disdain was mutual with Roddy feeling Astrid could've done better than wed whom he considered a criminal, Prince or not. "Greetings, Heiness. Might you be so kind as to share the knowledge of when your son intends to return?"

Astrid's parents had two daughters, her being the youngest and known to the Royals as her Father's least favorite.

"That depends on whom you miss more. Asgards lovely Duchess, or my son? Her beloved pardoned Prince. I can give either a message."

"Miss? Impossible as Astrid's practically taken up residence again. Should I relay you wish she ceased luring her Mother from bed crying, or send her home to disturb your sleep?"

"I wasn't aware she'd returned from Midgard. Has age required you hearing aids, or were you night prowling in hopes of accessing Ingrid's locked bedchambers again?"

Roddy frowned and crassly replied. "The lovely Duchess returned with Frigga. Is your wife telling lies, Allfather? Mine would never."

Odin cackled. 'Festering dimwit. Ingrid is banging my valet.' "You shall regard Frigga as 'Queen' and with utmost respect."

"My apologies. She is celestial, yet your defensiveness is revealing."

Roddy liked poking subtle jabs at the Royals and assumed Astrid a barrier to consequence. Most were directed at Loki and the King, but he'd worn Odin's patience too thin. "Insult anyone in my family again, including your daughter and face repercussions. Be gone, Rodderick."

"So soon?"

Odin's jaw clenched. "Leave egghead before I crack it on the pavement. Nedvar, escort him to the gate."

"Gladly, Sire."

Roddy followed, hardly perturbed. "One might expect the offering of a beverage after a stuffy carriage ride."

The commander jolted the gate closed. "Try opening a window Lord Heskin. If you're thirsty, there's a pub nearby rumored to host naked wrestling in the basement. Some days it's ladies, others gents. Enjoy."

When Odin entered their chambers bellowing to the Allmother, her lady in waiting sent word through a chain of servants to a handsomely paid Stableman. Familiar with an alternate route to Astrid's parents, he arrived ahead of Roddy and rushed her to the observatory.

Thor received her call and left immediately. 'Shite, brother. Where art thou?' ***** Following two days in Paris, Loki and Brianna cruised Lake Laguno in Switzerlandand. She questioned him about Asgard and her grandparents, yet when asking the circumstances behind his adoption, Loki spun a tale of half truth.

"Jotunheim had a King named Laufey who owned a magical cube that opened bridges to every realm. Long ago, he used it to attack Earth. Grandfather bravely defended your realm, forced his army back to Jotunheim and demanded he relinquish the cube. Laufey refused and continued attacking Asgards army until most of his people died. Grandfather found me alone amidst the rubble and decided to adopt me."

"You didn't tell him who your parents were?"

"I was an infant and the only survivor for miles."

"Where was Laufey?"

"He'd gone into hiding like a scaredy cat."

Instead of finding his comment amusing, anger washed over Brianna. "He abandoned a helpless baby to freeze? Introduce us and I'll use him as target practice."

Loki booped her nose. "I'm honored you wish to avenge me, but Laufey died and still suffers in the afterlife."

"How?"

"King scaredy cat will never have the privilege of meeting you."

Brianna smiled. "Or you. Was Grandfather hurt?"

"He lost an eye, but recovered nicely."

In Amsterdam, they visited the Artis zoo with over 900 species of little animals, an aquarium, planetarium and Zoological Museum. Further confirmation Brianna's his was how quickly she learned enormous amounts information and remembered the smallest details when later initiating a quiz. Since confessing to the burglaries, Loki was curious how she knew the homeowners were abroad and worked it into their conversation.

She replied like it was all in a day's work. "Dory accompanied me to different parks in fancy neighborhoods around Jersey, posing as my babysitter. Between eavesdropping on adults and questioning kids, it's amazing what you can learn inside a sandbox."

"Questions of what nature?"

"Like, 'I'm new to the neighborhood and love my big house. Where do you live?' Or, 'I'm going to visit my aunt Matilda's lavender farm to make soap.'"

"How was that helpful?"

"Most thought it dull and bragged of their families planning grander trips. Once attaining addresses and dates, I'd stake out their houses and proceed from there."

"Ah. With Dory as the lookout?"

"I left her in shelters or nearby motels. She never figured out how I managed, but by the third burglary, stopped worrying whenever I'd sneak away and send her a text." His eyes widened and Brianna rose a palm. "Dory lacked powers and I wouldn't risk her arrested because of me."

Why lecture when she'd acted out of desperation to find him? "You're a good friend, Og Min Lille."

"Thanks. I regret the stealing, but pranking the authorities was fun."

Loki thought it something innocent like tipping off their hats, but discovered her mischievousness paralleled her intelligence.

"I always struck at night and at one house, four police were investigating inside when I turned on the lights, flushed every toilet and set off their sirens. At the third, I poured a large olive oil path onto the kitchen floor, slammed a pantry door and watched two come running. One slid into it and fell, while the other amusingly contorted himself until the first tripped him. They sure swear a lot for the good guys."

"Brianna." He playfully scolded. "Say you did nothing worse."

"I'd be lying."

"Oh?"

"At the last house, the master bedroom had black drapes and life size models of a lion, wolf and a fang baring polar bear on its hind legs. Weird people. After aligning them near the door, I closed it, extinguished the lights and tripped the alarm. The police came, shone a flashlight inside and from the foyer, I made the bear roar."

Loki chuckled. "Did they scream?"

"And shot the bear."

"What?!" He led her someplace quiet. "From now on young lady, all pranks must meet my approval or…" While pondering means of discipline, he blurted what first came to mind. "...All shoulder and piggy back rides are discontinued."

He made both fun, thought Brianna. Bumping into things when her hands covered his eyes, then flipping her over his head for tickles. Or feigning valiant attempts at shaking her off to escape enslavement.

~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~ "Have mercy and release me!" He pleaded, captured during a picnic.

Brianna popped him on the head with her fake sword, a stick with a bushel of leaves at its tip. "Cease your begging, pheasant! I rule this realm, appoint you my new zombie slayer and hunter of all things chocolate. Fail and be fed to puppies!"

Loki set her down and knelt on one knee with a hand to his chest. "A frightful demise your majesty of cuteness. I humbly accept."

"Daddy, I'm supposed to be fierce."

"Eh he he he. Sorry." ~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~

Brianna deliberated his threat and wittingly proclaimed. "Are you not the God of Mischief and I your offspring?"

He arched a brow. 'Don't laugh or she'll never take you seriously.' "I mean it."

Brianna had already pulled some under his nose. A boy who'd aggressively budded before her at a park slide discovered his shoelaces tied together after nose diving into the sand. A woman at a restaurant who harshly berated a server had red wine spilled onto her Gucci bag. Minor sprinklings of karma she happily administered.

"But you're still a prankster."

"Rarely and without endangering anyone." 'Shite. I'll need to keep that fib under wraps.'

Brianna crossed fingers behind her back and feigned defeat. "O-kay. Can I have a snow cone now?" ***** After seeing the Northern lights in Norway, they'd returned to their hotel where she became oddly sombre.

"Has something upset you?" Loki asked.

"During our travels, I've seen many people with children. It's obvious they're loved, but my family..why, Daddy?"

Her pain pierced Loki's heart as she clung to him. "People can do terrible things for incomprehensible reasons, but you're my little girl now and I'm overjoyed you've come into my life."

When her tears ceased, she unexpectedly opened up about the women. Her first memory was of Jillian singing her to sleep at age three. She and Claudia taught her to talk, walk, bathe and dress herself, brought her toys, fictional and educational books. Yet it was Jillian who'd paid her the most attention, their visits consistently monitored by Hannah. A person so controlling and void of sentiment, Brianna wondered how the trio became friends. The woman opposed their closeness and the first time Brianna defended her Mother, she was forbidden upstairs without Hannah present, who ordered Claudia to report otherwise. This became impossible when the two landed full time jobs. With Jillian delegated homemaker, Hannah was forced to trust her. Over the past year, she'd broadened Brianna's computer knowledge, snuck her for walks to a hidden trail entrance off the main road she'd marked with glow in the dark tape, taught her outdoor safety and survival skills and always stressed keeping everything secret, especially Brianna's magic or Hannah would separate them for good.

"Jillian knew of your powers? Why have you never mentioned any of this?"

Brianna frowned. "She bread me to thicken her purse. No amount of secrets and added kindness makes that excusable or her worthy of commeding."

An undeniable fact Loki avoided arguing. His daughter was hurting and preaching Jillian might've experienced a change of heart could impede their relationship.

She halted his conflictual thoughts by bashfully asking. "Do 'you' love me?"

"Very much, Brianna."

"Can I stay with you forever? Please? I'll move to Asgard."

Loki doubted she comprehended the gravity of her words. "Forever doesn't mean a month long visit as we previously discussed. It involves permanently residing on another realm thousands of miles from Earth where the landscape, culture, even people's wardrobe's are entirely unfamiliar."

"I know. Devoid of space travel, would it be any different if I moved to India, Antarctica or say..Bhutan?"

"I suppose not. I'm sorry, Bhutan?"

"It's a small country just south of China. I memorized Earth's geography and most of its cultures in one month."

"Very good." 'Genius supreme. I must catch up.' "Then you're willing?"

She yawned, proudly raising her chin. "Affirmative. I'd like to see those sandbox dwellers top that adventure."

Incredibly relieved, Loki chuckled. "You've ten remaining seconds to gloat, sleepyhead. Ten..nine.….three, two, one."

"Hey, you said those last digits awfully fast."

"It's time for vampire pajamas, your fierce and Royal Highness."

"A story too? Will you conjure The Empty Grave by Jonathan Stroud?"

"The Empty 'what?'" He amusingly queried. "No way, Jose. I've chosen three options of popular children's literature from the internet. The Cat in the Hat, Whinnie the Pooh, a rather peculiar name for a bear and Charlotte's Web."

"Isn't the last tale about a spider?"

"Yes."

"They're creepy. I choose that one."

'Mother would be impressed.' "Hurry then before zombies find us and eat my brains!"

Brianna shouted from the bathroom. "Nobody hurts my Daddy! Huyya! Take that you fiendish barbarians! Uh oh."

Loki rushed in upon hearing glass crack and found her standing on the bathtub ledge. "What did you do?"

"I was pretending to fight them off with my hairbrush when it flew from my hand, struck that picture and landed in the toilet."

He laughed renewing both with magic. "Your toothbrush is safe, yes?"

Loki finally thought her asleep when she reached out for a hug.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I forgot to say I love you too. Goodnight."

His heart swelled twice its size. "Goodnight, Og Min Lille." ***** Next they ventured to London and a budding lover of history, Brianna asked to visit The British Museum. While viewing a dinosaur skeleton from an upper walkway, she pointed into the crowd below.

"Daddy, isn't that Tony?"

He took a gander. "Well, well. Iron Man it be."

"Who's the strange lady he's with?"

"Pepper, darling. She often wears wigs to avoid recognition."

Her eyes brightened. "Please, can we say hello?"

"Inconspicuously. I'll him send a text." Daddy concealed his phone. 'Greetings kinky crossdresser. What brings you to Londinium?'

'Loki???'

'Yes. Act casual, we're hiding.'

'Holy shit! We're on vacation and at the Savoy in the Royal Suite. Can you meet us there ASAP? It's important.'

'We're on the ninth floor. Rendezvous in an hour?'

'Ha! We'll be there with balls on!'

'Come again?'

'🤪 Bells, dammit! Bells!'

'😂 Brianna can't wait.'

Tony hurriedly guided Pepper through the crowd. "Excuse us..pardon us..excuse us."

"Where's the fire?" She whispered.

"Daddy Snowflake's in town. Hustle, Butch." ***** Their door opened and Brianna ran to him. "Uncle Cootyoodles!"

"Little Warrior! Am I happy to see you!"

The couple listened with enthusiasm about everywhere she'd been, then Tony asked to speak with Loki alone.

Virginia led her into their bedroom. "Wait 'till you see all the cool stuff I bought."

"That'll keep her busy." Said Stark. "Pepper's a London shopaholic. So why the vanishing act? Thor called me."

Loki scoffed. "I did tell him not to."

"Don't be angry. Astrid returned and wanted to contact me."

"Why? You knew nothing."

"She didn't believe him. Neither did your Mother and Thor worried they'd show up at the Tower."

"What?! Our Mother came to Midgard in search of me? Shit..shit!"

Stark told him everything and Loki's face was unreadable. "Nope. There's nothing weird about staring like I've grown a nipple on my face."

"Did I mention it's pierced? You're saying 'my' brother, Shakespeare in the park, lied that extensively for me?"

"Yes and sent them back to your Dad to expand on it. What's everyone's problem with an awesome six year old anyway? Is that why you didn't go home?"

"Becoming a parent, you're suddenly bombarded with complex decisions centered around one tiny person you never fathomed loving so deeply, much less an indisputable desire to protect above all else."

Stark smiled. "Look at you. The master of Sheisterism all growed up..whose dodged my question."

Loki sunk into a chair. "Maturity aside, my life is a mess. Asgards people still regard me a traitor, Astrid and I are constantly arguing and it's completely unfair of me to expect she Mother a child she didn't bare and Odin's my grandest worry for classified reasons I've become an insomniac over. I can't subject Brianna to that. Her life has been dreadful enough."

"Not anymore. She has you now. I endured shitloads of public and political outrage over changes to Stark Industries. 'Wealth aside', I thought it my doom. People adjust and opinions fade. Astrid will come around once they meet. Look at the number Little Warrior did on us."

"She 'is' irresistibly charming."

"Whatever gramps issue is, arrange for her a few rounds with the old coot. She'll straighten him out."

Loki smirked, picturing Brianna dancing circles around the Allfather. "My Mother would buy ring side seats."

"See? The bulk of your family is on your side. Let them help."

"As appealing as that sounds, Astrid will expect hours of explanation I haven't the energy to convey. I love her, but she 'is' a drama queen."

"Eligible for an academy award."

Loki's eyes narrowed. "Piss off, flying human."

"Thor's willing to talk without the wifey knowing. I've a burner phone as you tend to appear in the strangest of places."

"Mm. Like when I ran into you in a sleazy massage parlor near Carnegie Hall?"

Loki was still a bachelor then, but Tony wasn't.

"I didn't know they offered sexual favors until the masseuse grabbed my dick. They weren't listed on the brochure."

"Eh he he he. I'll call when I've a chance."

They clammed up when Brianna exited the bedroom. "Can I go Daddy, please?"

Pepper followed. "Sorry. I blabbered the Tea shops chocolatiers add finishing touches to their masterpieces at this hour."

"You may." Said Loki.

Tony slipped Little Warrior fifty euros. "Buy me an eclaire and keep the change. Badass ate mine."

"Yay! Thank you!"

They left and Stark unpacked the phone. "Here's your chance while Brianna's absent. Text him, 'Garage?'" ***** Jane distracted Astrid while Thor sat in the cabin of his truck and the brothers soon cleared a lot between them.

"I'm not upset you deceived me anymore Loki, nor is Mother. Yet I'm worried Father's making her life miserable. Are you fearful he'll scorn Brianna?"

"Not up for discussion and relax, brother. You've been gone a while. Mother's gonads have grown."

"She's taking male hormones?"

"I meant she's less meek? Have you dropped the toaster in your bathwater?"

"That only happened once." Thor defensively replied. "I was late for a waxing of my package and hastening making breakfast. Nor have I recently smoked Jane's medical marijuana. She threatened torture were there not enough to ease her menstrual cramps again."

Loki deadpanned. "Norns you're a tit, fruit of Odin's loins.' "How's Astrid?"

"Coping. Jane said she'd do anything to see you again."

"Coping amidst stewing over my bedding of another 'Midgardian hoe' I've fathered a child with, and the humiliating circumstances involved."

"Believe me, brother, she too is no longer angry and the diaries contents stayed within Stark's walls. It isn't my story to tell."

"Your software needs reprogramming, impersonator. Thor Odinson was never so thoughtful of his sibling."

The blond laughed. "He's turning over a new leaf."

Loki had sought privacy in another room and suddenly heard Brianna desperately calling him. "I have to go. Don't tell Astrid we spoke yet." Upon opening the door, she threw herself at him.

"Daddy!"

"What happened?" He asked Pepper.

"We neared the shops door when she gasped, bolted for the elevator and started frantically pushing the button."

Brianna was trembling. "Darling, why are you frightened?"

"We can't stay here, Daddy! She's down there!"

"Who is?"

"Hannah!" She cried. "I'd know that red headed witch anywhere!"

"Shhhhh." He soothed. "I promised they cannot hurt you, remember? Stay here with..."

Brianna wrapped herself tighter around him. "No Daddy! Don't leave me!"

She was so distraught, he couldn't. "I won't, Min Lille. Shhhhh."

"Virginia's gone." Said Tony.

Loki's head shot up. "Back to the shop?"

"Yeah. Said the witch looked familiar and went on a hunt."

"Fuck! Get her back here!" Brianna jumped from Loki's voice. "Sorry Min Lille. Tony, now!"

"Erm..why?"

"Because they've met! If Pepper confronts her, she'll vanish!"

[lucidpantone]

Visitations Preview Chap 5: The Finale

**Go and grab your tissue box. You’ll really need to stop being so emosh. @cph-dreaming @fehmyn @hopetofantasy @cleocc @msmesasha​. If I forgot to tag you am sorry. It’s only one memory and that's all you're getting.**

Disclaimer: Same rules apply.

Italics is the past. If not, it's August 15th at any point in the day I chose to drop you into.

“Just one?” 

“Yeah” Robbe responded, acknowledging the cashier.

“To Amsterdam?”

Robbe nodded.

“1st or 2nd class?”

“1st please.”

“That will be €54”

Robbe shoots the cashier a nondescript smile as he sticks his credit card into the card reader and enters his pin to complete the transaction. The cashier hands him over the purchase receipt and signals for the next customer to proceed. Robbe begins to walk away and clumsily walks back a couple of steps and asks “In what direction is platform 3?”. The cashier signals towards the left hand side exit of the post office. Robbe sees the platform in the distance as he exits the store and runs towards it with a couple of minutes to spare before departure. He makes it in just the nick of time and settles into a window seat, anxious to reach his final destination.

The nostalgia of his final stop always caught Robbe off guard. Every time he came back here whether on his own, or with him, everything seemed to have stayed exactly the same since the first time. This place was a strange kinda of place wrapped up in its own personal deja-vu. Housing an unknown poltergeist where earthlingly oddities roamed and mother nature dared to roll around with the solar flares of the sun between her legs. A consequence of all the zygotes that got produced here seasonally. Robbe really didn’t care though, he loved it here, he always found himself here. There was something about this place; rudimentary in its makeup at best but possessing a sense of serenity,  with a dose of mystery, even some romance, a portal to another universe. This place always felt like home. Robbe would visit old haunts, walk the dunes of time, revel in the taste of sodium in the air. He’d hit up familiar store stalls, check out the best vantage points but eventually he’d always find himself back at their old place.

It was restaurant style. Not the fancy type made out of linen.It was white with miniature clams embossed atop, 2ply, 15 inches across but folded down the middle, then folded into 4’s and then once more to emulate the size of a standard envelope. Robbe had seen them in different colors but most people in the world only saw them in that pearl white that the standard restaurant napkins were made of. He just stared into the pattern recalling the day when this senseless artifact became an urn that stored the ashes of his love story.

“This is so stupid, I mean it's basically a pipe dream. It’s never gonna happen.” Sander told Robbe as he pulled out a marker from his back pocket.

“Come on just do it for me.” Robbe begged. Sander chuckled because he knew once Robbe made a request he was going to appease it.

“Okay…. So my dream tattoo shop would look something like this.”  Sander drew out three squares lined up horizontally next to each other like carriages on a train atop the restaurant napkin.

“So the whole concept would be based on the idea that it wouldn't even look like a tattoo shop but a gallery space. Operationally it would be a place of business but functionally it would double up as a tattoo shop/community art space. You know people always associate tattoo shops as these dark and dengy out posts but when you’d walk into mine you’d be flushed with a burst of light making the whole place feel airy. Like a sense of wholeness or something.”

Robbe found Sander’s light up smile endearing as he walked through his imaginary tattoo shop schematic. Robbe rubbed the top of Sander’s hand with his thumb encouraging Sander to continue explaining his future’s prospects.

“I love the way you think baby. You're always so thoughtful and creative.”

“Like I said it's never going to happen but you never know right….life is full of surprises.” Sander was downplaying how much he wanted this future to become a reality.

“No no no. Don’t say it’s never going to happen. We’ll find a way to make it happen.”

“Oh are you going to learn how to tattoo now?” Sander gave Robbe a cheeky grin because Robbe couldn’t even draw a rectangle correctly. Well at least not yet...

“No but I’ll find a way to chip in. I could run the reception or something.” Robbe knew that wouldn’t be much help but that's the best his nineteen year old self could come up with at the time.

“Promise we’ll find a way to make it happen?” Robbe always did this to Sander. Whenever Sander lacked belief in himself Robbe would make him promise on whatever desire he was discounting.

“Only if you promise we’ll do it together?”

“Deal, I mean that’s not a hard request. You know I always keep my promises.”

Robbe and Sander both giggled because both of them knew that Robbe’s promises never faltered. Robbe was the most reliable person Sander knew. Sander couldn’t help but indulge Robbe’s interest in their never gonna happen future.

“Anyways I’m thinking the color scheme would go something like white in the gallery, black in the tattoo shop and then maybe an entry to a garden or patio area.”

Sander rambled on and on about how eventually the gallery space could host events or have fun community sessions. He could teach art to youths since he knew how much art had helped him when he was younger. He had completely mapped out the potential of a place like this and the excitement in his voice was insatiable to say the least.

Robbe loved hearing the sound of Sander’s voice in this particular amped up pitch. It was so tranquil and soothing to him.

“Excuse me, do you need this? It was stuck in between the euros on top of your bill.”

Robbe looked up from the napkin and took inventory of his surroundings. He had got lost in his own memories again. It was becoming a frequent occurrence as of late. He looked up at the waitress who was attempting to hand him over a waxy piece of textured paper. He thanked her and took hold of it.

It was the post office receipt.

Robbe had almost totally forgotten about the dread of having to text Luc to let him know he had mailed back his stuff today. Specifically his GIRL brand skateboard that he adored so much. They hadn’t spoken since their break up but as Robbe went to grab his phone to text Luc he saw a text from Kes.

“Sorry, this is awkward but Luc asked me to ask you if you mailed back his stuff yet?”

        - Kes

“I did it today. It should get to him in 3-5 days. I mailed it 1st class.”

“Umm how’s he doing? Has he said anything to you?”

        - Robbe

“Look, That's my best friend.I don’t want to get involved. All he said to me was that you weren’t ready to invest in love….”

       - Kes

Luc always had a way with words. Always knew how to make Robbe feel guiltier than he already felt. Luc was as blunt as a knife's edge so when he stabbed you he made sure it was torturous and never swift.

As the waitress laid down Robbe’s change from his paid bill he took one final glance over to the broken down booth that he and Sander used to call “their spot”. It stung seeing it empty but he still smiled at the memory of his younger self sneaking the diagram that Sander had penned atop the napkin into his brown jacket. Not knowing then that eventually he’d get to remind an older Sander that sometimes dreams do come true.

The walk back to the house on the beach was refreshing. A light zephyr surged around the pier’s promenade creating an idyllic breeze that seemed to galvanize the local pelican community into flight. The whole ambiance of this beachy hideaway gave Robbe a much needed reprieve from the conflict ensuing in his mind. A litany of doubtful thoughts with no real answers. Continued avoidance was working so far in his favor but Robbe knew that Sander’s patience would wear.

They hadn’t spoken much since the break up. Sander had stuck around for a few days after the initial night to keep Robbe company but the whole ordeal lacked morality. They'd lay in bed together watching TV while Sander just held Robbe tightly. Practically bruising Robbe’s arms. Every few hours Robbe would be stricken with a wave of guilt over what he had done to Luc and he’d need Sander to fuck it out of him. The situation was dire and the irrational had somehow become the rational. Robbe needed to get his shit together and stop his dopesick lifestyle. Sander could not become the dragon he needed to chase to stop the withdrawals. He didn’t deserve that. Robbe had done what he had done and he needed to learn to live with it.

He did eventually kick Sander out after 4 days of this delirium stating that he needed time and space and he just needed Sander to respect that for now. He also called his boss explaining the situation and begging him to forget his resignation. Robbe was lucky that the firm was understaffed and had just signed on new business because otherwise Thibaut would have never agreed to it. At least that was one crisis averted, his apartment on the other hand was in shambles. Everything was in packing boxes and everything needed to be rehoused which was a painstaking process but he did it. It took him a couple of weeks but he did eventually put the pieces of his life back together. Finally waking up one morning after a three week haze with an impulsive craving to head to the house on the beach. Robbe wasn’t sure why he needed to go there, he just knew that it was calling and thus why he now found himself wandering down the promenade on his lonesome. A sherbet sky as his backdrop.

Robbe welcomed the change of scenery of his beachy escape. A part of him loathed his apartment now it was covered in a slime of memories he could not scrub away. Though the house on the beach was nothing more than some worn down furniture he welcomed the opportunity to grab his guitar and lay out on the garden bench outside his room and just strum the night away. It was that time of the day anyways. Sander and Robbe barely spoke or texted during this reflective period but they did communicate in the best way they knew how. See these siloed lovers had their own traditions. Sander had established it but Robbe had developed it. When either one of them didn't feel like talking, usually Sander they communicate in their most comfortable non-verbal formats. For Sander this was his usual set of drawings and for Robbe it was always his guitar. So keeping in line with their usual pattern Sander would text Robbe pictures of his drawings daily and Robbe would return to sender a voice clip of whatever chorus he had strummed together for the day. So that was what he was in the middle of doing when he saw it.

Robbe looked out onto the rainbow sherbet sky; it was an apparition in the distance. He blinked to make sure it wasn't an illusion then a second time for confirmation but it wasn’t a trick of the mind. A figure began to materialize over the sand dunes in an all black attire sporting some laced up Doc Marten’s.

Robbe’s body tensed up. How could it even be possible that he was here too... but as soon as the affliction of concern took over him it quickly dematerialized as the apparition in the distance came into focus and took on corporeal form. Robbe definitely didn’t know her but he couldn't stop observing her. She had a juggernaut presence, he was in awe, curious too but more so because she felt so familiar. Her lavender pinkish locks stood out; they helped frame her face with a dose of softness which was in opposition with the rest of her appearance.

She made a b-line towards Robbe’s direction approaching him with haste. She passed the candy strip ballards and walked onto the wooden planked walkway that paved the entrance of the house on the beach. She stopped at the teal colored Kalise cooler. She opened it and evaluated whatever she found inside and walked right over to the wooden garden bench where Robbe sat legs up strumming his guitar. Robbe shifted his focus downward in an attempt to avoid her gaze.

“Are you the manager here?”

Robbe looked at her completely bewildered recalling the previous time he was asked that same question. Before he had time to think of a cheeky retort she interjected into his thoughts.

“I just wanted to pay for a beer from the cooler”

Robbe kicked his legs off the bench and sat up.

“Oh those are mine actually but feel free to grab one. Free of charge of course”

Robbe shot her a wink.

She was pretty, he thought. Robbe had to double check his senses for a moment. He had never been drawn to a woman like this before. He took a moment to evaluate his entire life choices but it definitely wasn’t that. It wasn’t that kind of connection but there was something about her. It's like his body was reacting to some strange paradox in the universe that had hashed out this otherworldly eidolon sitting in front of him.

“Ummm do I have something on my face or something?” She asked as she brought the rim of the bottle to her lips.

“No…” Robbe replied with a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

“Ok so what are you staring at?”

“Shit sorry, you just seem so familiar. Am just trying to put my finger on where I may have seen you before. Are you from around here?”

“Do I sound like I am from around here?” She slapped back with a hint of sarcasm.

Robbe felt like an idiot as soon as the sentence left his mouth. She clearly had a heavy accent and she definitely wasn’t from around here. Her dutch was terrible but conversational. Her whole vibe screamed from somewhere south.

“So whose heart did you break?”

“What?” Robbe scoffed in disbelief. The reminder of guilt sinking him back into his seat.

“Come on..a pretty boy like you strumming his guitar with this as his backdrop” She pointed out to the sherbet bleeding sky; currently highlighting a color mixture of tangerine and cadmium rouge.

“A bit cliche don’t you think?”

“How’d you know I broke someone’s heart and they didn’t break mine?”

“With a face like that. You’re definitely the culprit.” Robbe was blushing but he didn’t disagree; he just stretched out the bottom half of his jaw in a slight twitch.

“Come on I can smell the guilt coming off you? Trust me I should know, it’s my favourite scent.” The pretty girl shot him an eyebrow raise to check Robbe’s temperature. Making sure she hadn’t offended him.

“I don’t even know you….”

“That’s the best part. You can tell me everything and I’ll be honest with you”

At first this sounded ludicrous but then again Robbe hadn’t told anyone the events that had actually occurred that had caused his downward spiral. He was deeply ashamed of how he handled everything and couldn’t bear to see the judgement across Jens or Lia’s face.

“I am Robbe, perpetual dumpster fire of a person. What’s your name?”

The pixie doll apparition shot her focus downward and whispered out, “Whatever you want it to be Robbe?”

“Pick a name for me?”

Why all the mystery? Robbe thought to himself. A didactic approach, Robbe could recognize a fellow strategist when he encountered one.

“No no no, you don’t get to do that. I can’t be the only one telling my secrets.”

She scoffed.

“Fine fine. Call me C.J.”

Robbe pulled a face, “That is not your real name.”

“You said you wanted a name, you never said anything about it being my real name. Take it or leave it.”

God she really did remind him of someone.

“Ok Robbe, I kept my end of the bargain. So tell me your secrets.”

Robbe rolled his eyes at her. There was something about her that was positively unbearable but also highly comforting.

“I recently broke up with my boyfriend…..” Robbe murmured out. She waved her hand in a circular motion indicating to Robbe that she wanted more details and to keep going.

“Because I think i'm still in love with my ex….”

“You think? Or you know?” C.J. questioned.

Robbe put his guitar down on the side of the bench and buried his face in his hands as a display of his frustration.

“I gather that means you know.”

C.J. pivoted her entire body towards his and scooted over rubbing Robbe’s shoulder very lightly. A strangely intimate gesture to exchange between strangers.

“It’s okay, I mean it's not, but you know what I mean.” C.J. attempted to quell Robbe’s worries.

“Ok your gonna need another beer so you can tell me what happened.”

C.J. got up and scurried to the Kalise cooler and hurried back with a beer in hand.

Robbe took a large gulp as soon as she put it in his grip.

“I slept with my ex-boyfriend as soon as me and my new boyfriend broke up”

C.J. shocked her head back and forth as a sign of some weird understanding.

“How long after the break up?”

Robbe buried his face back into his hands. He didn’t want to look at her reaction.

“Like an hour…..”

Robbe clearly heard her shocked snort which was preceded by heavy coughing.

“Sorry, choked on my beer there for a second. An hour? How? Did you drive a ferrari to his house?” She was definitely mocking him now.

“No he was waiting on my doorstep?”

“You got him delivered? His not takeout Robbe.”

“But I gotta admit you Belgians are impressive. We don’t have those types of delivery services from where I'm from. At best you can get a lukewarm pizza to your doorstep.”

Robbe looked at C.J. who was clearly trying to ease the tension and crack a joke. Robbe felt a genuine smile come across his face. He’d been struggling to get one of those to appear as of late.

“Look, I am not gonna sugar coat it. You're a real life asshole.”

“Excuse me?” Robbe responded a bit offended.

“Yeah I mean who breaks up with their boyfriend and has their ex delivered to them within an hour? Kinda of an asshole thing to do.”

“You know what, I don’t need to explain myself to you.” Robbe’s tone had hardened.

“You don’t, but you want to, right? I know because I've been there. Am the biggest asshole I know.”

“So here we are two of the biggest assholes drinking a beer together. Cheers!”

C.J. tapped her beer onto Robbe’s.

Though his instinct was too feel offended by the words coming out of C.J.’s mouth his heart and his head felt a bit of relief finally letting it all out. No matter how ugly his truths sounded out loud.

“Have you ever done something like that yourself?” Robbe questioned C.J. hoping for a bit of camaraderie.

“Not something like that but I’ve put my girlfriend through some serious bullshit. Why do you think I'm in some foreign country driving towards home?”

C.J. pointed at herself, “Total asshole remember”.

“Look Robbe when you're young, a teenager even. You can make mistakes like that and people give you the benefit of the doubt but when you're older everything counts. It's harsh but true.If you keep messing up at our age you become a pariah, a write off, beyond repair, ready to be put out to pasture.”

“But at the same time life’s complicated. People are complicated. Your love story sounds complicated. So ask yourself this, would he really stick by you through the good times, the bad and the motherfucking worse? Because everyone swears they would but in reality that’s not really true. They have no idea how bad it can really get. How bad you can really get. So I’d ask yourself this, would he fight for you? No matter the outcome?”

Robbe just stared at her. He kept wanting to say something but he couldn't seem to construct a sentence. Then it clicked like osmosis.

“You remind me of him, you know. The way you talk. Your whole vibe.” Robbe did a wax on/wax off gestures in C.J.’s direction.

“Who knows..maybe we’re the same person. Do you believe in parallel universes?”

Robbe's head violently spun around. A tidal wave of deja-vu was submerging him. He just nodded in confirmation. Robbe was definitely a believer of parallel universes.

“Yeah I thought so. Kindred spirits and all. We tend to find each other.”

Robbe knew what she meant. It was weird but somehow he felt like they had been here before.

Robbe and C.J. just sat there in silence for a while watching the colors of tangerine and cadmium rouge disappear into midnight hues. Robbe occasionally strumming some chord changes into the air. C.J. humming out some impromptu melodies both go them going back and forth discussing guitar legends that one another should check out. Until it was time for their rendezvous to end.

“I should go. I have a long drive ahead of me tomorrow.”

Robbe frowned a little disappointed. He didn’t want her to leave.

C.J. noticed and pouted in response. Both man and woman giggled into the breezy night. Before C.J. stood up she left Robbe with a nugget of truth as she drank the dregs of what was left of her last beer. Wiping her mouth down on her long sleeve shirt as she finished her drink.

“Robbe……” She sounded somber.

“The world never wanted people like you and I to be lovers. They bullied us into becoming fighters and we’ve been trying to get back to loving ever since. Just look at our past”

“My advice, look out for the small stuff. Signs. You can build a foundation off those. If you’re willing...”

C.J. began to get up from the bench.

“You’ll be fine either way Robbe but if you do have someone worth fighting for I try to protect that from the world. Remember through the good, the bad and the mother fucking worse. No matter the outcome.”

Her words struck a chord in Robbe.

“Promise me if you find that. That you’ll jump?”

C.J.’s dark brown eyes felt like they were pinning down Robbe’s soul down. Holding him to some unknown truth but he couldn’t say no to her.

“I promise” Robbe affirmed.

C.J. smiled and quickly broke the seriousness of the entire exchange.

“Right time to go. This was great. Best one night stand of my life. I didn’t even have to put out.”

“Are you ever just normal?” Robbe teased.

“What’s so great about being normal… am an enigma Robbe.” C.J. began to walk down the wooden sandy planks when Robbe shouted out to her.

“Hey, How do I find you again?”

“You don’t Robbe. This was just a random anomaly. We were never meant to meet in the first place.”

Though normally this would seem like a brush off. Robbe somehow understood the dyadic transaction that had just occurred.

“I guess we’ll meet again in another universe?” He let out.

C.J. stopped dead in her tracks.

She twirled back around, her entire self looking back at Robbe and said.

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

[writingfanfic-andbored]

March 2001

‘Well, that’s very… progressive.’ Crowley stated as he looked at the ring on his finger. Unsurprisingly it was a snake, silver, biting its own tail. Aziraphale thought it was fitting and he had agreed. But then again, he had been drunk last night.

‘Yes, very... Jolly good.’

‘Do we…?’ Crowley started, but didn’t quite know what they had to do.

‘What?’ Aziraphale too wondered what they should do now, but couldn’t even formulate the words to ask yet, let alone answer. The alcohol in his system still made his brain swim.

‘Never mind. I’m still sobering up.’ He dragged a hand through his messy hair and started clearing up the empty bottles of wine that they had consumed when they came back to London. He couldn’t fathom the mess they had left back in Amsterdam. It did occur to him that at some point last night they could have sobered up with their miracling tricks, but neither of them had, neither of them did now. Perhaps they preferred to stay hung over, so their blurry minds weren’t able to think of the coming repercussions.

Aziraphale sat fingering his ring, a wonderfully simple and elegant golden band. Crowley hadn’t even miracled it into being, he had bought it in a little jewelry shop by the canals. At that point they were already shoulder deep in fancy wines and local spirits, joining in with the celebrations of the city that had turned the colours of the rainbow.

He had found Crowley in the city centre of Amsterdam last night, where people were celebrating - for the first time on the planet - that everyone there was free to marry whomever they wanted. Aziraphale was there to thwart Crowley of course, make sure he didn’t ruin any of the celebrations, or so he thought. But Crowley had offered him a drink and told him that he was just there for the party, which he promised would be spectacular. (It had really been the promise of bitterballen that had done it, they were delicious and he knew just the place to get them).

As promised, the party was spectacular, many, many drinks were downed, many songs were sung and after a trip to city hall they were drunkenly and officially wed. All Crowley really remembered about that part was fumbling with rings, Aziraphale’s smiling face and the confused look on the face of the official swearing them in as a married couple. And the kiss. That was another thing he remembered. That kiss.

Now they were back in London, where they had apparently fallen asleep on the couch. Now Crowley was making many trips to the kitchen where he disposed of the wine bottles. Now he was just trying to avoid Aziraphale’s eyes.

‘They can’t have missed this, can they?’ Aziraphale said as he joined him. ‘Surely this will come with consequences, or should have already come with consequences.’ He looked around, as if at any moment their respective sides would pop up from behind a bookshelf and take them away.

But nothing happened.

‘You’d think so.’ He still didn’t look at his new husband.

‘Perhaps, it’s because it’s not legal here.’ Aziraphale said.

‘Perhaps.’

‘Although, you'd think.. heaven rules over all, not just the United Kingdom.’ No answer.

‘Crowley…’

He really did want to look at him, but he couldn’t manage to stop smiling. He couldn’t pretend to be bothered by what came next. Or mind what had happened last night; drinking, singing, snogging, marriage, more snogging, and what else…? How could he mind? But he should, if they found out below and upstairs there’d be consequences, something creative probably.

He pulled his face together and looked at Aziraphale. He was cool Crowley again. ‘I’m sure they know, I’m sure they’re just figuring out the appropriate measures.’

‘Right. They'll be here any moment. We probably should take these silly rings off.’ He admired his again, but didn’t take it off. Neither did Crowley. He liked his ring, it not only reminded him of himself, but also of his husband. They waited for a moment in silence, expecting again that their sides would show up and drag them above and below.

‘You don’t think…’ Aziraphale started, he didn’t really know what he was thinking but could there be a chance? Their eyes met briefly and he could see something in Crowley’s eyes he hadn’t seen before – carelessness. He had been carefree, always, but careless – not so much. There had always been a little bit of him that was afraid of the repercussions of his actions, but he didn’t seem to care now. Aziraphale had thought he was avoiding him because it had been a mistake, perhaps he was avoiding him because he thought it wasn’t. It made Aziraphale bolder.

‘You don’t think that maybe there’s a chance.. they… won’t... mind?’

They thought about that for a minute. ‘No, that can’t be it.’

Actually, God thought, why would they mind? Two people who want to be married should be married, Hell and Heaven couldn’t provide any arguments against that, could they? Who were they to decide how close to keep your enemies anyway? They might have a problem with the love part - compromising their side and all, but the marriage bit certainly wasn’t for them to bless or condemn. Crowley and Aziraphale could spin this their way, the way they had spun everything about their relationship for the past 6000 years. If they really wanted to turn it into a little show for anyone’s amusement they could even say Crowley had tricked Aziraphale into it (technically true) so as to ruin the Angel, only it hadn’t worked and now Aziraphale was hoping to turn the demon back on Heaven’s side.

‘Maybe they’re just waiting to see what happens.’ Crowley said and went to pick up more bottles. Aziraphale took his hand.

‘What do you think will happen?’

Crowley couldn’t hold his grin in much longer, with eyes as amuzed as the day Aziraphale told him he’d lost his flaming sword, ‘I think something wonderful might happen.’

Aziraphale’s smile spread over his entire face. ‘Yes… I should think so.’

And again they waited, but no longer fearful. They were together, what could Heaven and Hell or Satan and God do against that?

God looked at them and thought: not a damn fucking thing.