#and not just sailing/war history

[gigamuffin]

also. i have no deep knowledge of regency era england first of all. but I feel it's very impressive that pob juggles with both naval warfare history and customs at the time history in his books

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

I've only ever seen 'you get to kill one person as a baby' alternative history polls, but I think there's a more interesting version so let's play 'change one event in history'! (Go for what you think would do the most good or what would be the most chaotic choice. It's a thought experiment we're not the morals police!)

Very brief (and grossly oversimplified!) explanations under the cut.

unfortunately my education has been very eurocentric and I'm pretty hopeless at the nuances of history pre-19th century; this is as diverse as i could make it (which is not very diverse at all). Please feel free to add in the tags!

1) This assassination set WW1 in motion (triggered/enabled the first declaration of war)

2) Emmanuel de Grouchy was a general in Napoléon's army. Before the Battle of Waterloo he'd been given the order to cut off the Prussian General Blücher, but Blücher had already got to the battlefield so de Grouchy went off on a pointless search with his 40-50k soldiers instead of joining the battle, which many consider a significant reason for Napoléon's defeat.

3) i.e., make trouble after Columbus leaves for America but before he arrives there.

4) Georg Elser attempted to set off a bomb during a Hitler speech at a beer hall. (There were other attempts on Hitler's life both before and after this, I just picked this one). The explosion failed to kill Hitler as he had moved his speech up half an hour and was gone by the time the bomb went off. It killed seven Nazis and a waitress. Elser was arrested, sent to a concentration camp and murdered days before its liberation at the end of the war. This has nothing to do with the question, I just hate that everyone only knows about the Stauffenberg one.

5) This position allowed Stalin to pick functionaries for key positions in the Soviet Union and thus pave his way to becoming Lenin's successor.

6) likely preventing the USA from creating a functional atomic bomb before the end of the war.

7) Günter Schabowski held the famous press conference which communicated the GDR's intention to allow East German citizens to cross into West Germany again without having to apply for government permission. Asked when this would come into effect, Schabowski replied, visibly uncertain, "to my knowledge, that is immediately. Right away". This led to crowds overwhelming the Berlin border crossings. The officers stationed there had received orders to mark the passports of all those crossing with a stamp that would barr them from re-entry into the GDR, but did not uphold this and instead simply opened the barrier as they feared violence would break out. This became the night the Berlin Wall fell.

8) The battle was a huge deal for German propaganda both at the time and later on and made especially Hindenburg a war hero, but I mostly picked it because I figure it'd be easiest to get them both at once during a battle. Both men were central to the decisions the German Empire made in WW1 (to such a degree that people have argued they effectively led the country) and both played a role in Adolf Hitler's rise to power: Ludendorff lent his credibility and fame to Hitler's Munich Beer Hall putsch in 1922, and Hindenburg went on to become the last president of Weimar Germany and appointed Hitler chancellor in 1933.

[athenasnina]

only watching hotd through gifs but im really enjoying the brunette girl and the white haired girl timidly finding their way back to each other after one tried to stab the other. i also see a lot of ship love for the white haired girl and her white haired uncle/husband? and im feeling poly vibes for the three of them. no joke if this were my fandom i can already tell id be shipping this triad so hard.

[honourablejester]

I’m realising as I browse around that I really love lore when it comes to ttrpgs, games and game worlds. And by that I don’t mean I like to obsessively learn lists of dates and wars, and the names of leaders of factions, I mean …

I like learning weird, juicy details about the worlds of games. I like finding little nuggets that say things about the set-up and culture and assumptions of the world. I like finding fragments of ideas to hang whole story and character concepts off.

I love that in D&D 5e’s Spelljammer, the Astral Sea is full of the corpses of dead gods that you can fully sail up to in your ship. Just. Floating out there. Waiting for you to rock up to them.

I love that in Sunless Sea, the king of the drowned is the way he is because he fell in love with an eldritch sea urchin from space, and successfully married it. His niece is an angry sentient floating mountain whose mother is a goddess-mountain and whose father is a face-stealing humanoid abomination. This is fine and normal.

I love that in Starfinder, there are mysterious bubble cities in the surface of the sun that the church of the sun goddess discovered and cheerfully occupied despite having no idea who the hell built them or for what purpose.

I love that in Dishonored, the entire industrial revolution that has built the empire we’re in the midst of saving or destroying was built on the properties of whale oil harvested from eldritch tentacled whales that live half in the oceans and half in an eldritch void personified in the form of a weird-ass black-eyed shit-stirrer of a deity who was formed from a murdered and sacrificed child. And this is largely a background detail.

I love in the Elder Scrolls that the dwarves up and fucking vanished, as a race, at some point in history and absolutely nobody has any clue what happened to them or where they went, but their technology is so insane that ideas like ‘they time-travelled’ or ‘they erased themselves from existence’ are absolutely on the table.

I love that in Numenera, so many incredibly advanced civilisations have risen and fallen on this world that it’s absolutely littered with bonkers science fiction artefacts that have caused the current medieval-esque society built over top of them to develop in bizarre ways, and also you can find a mysterious artefact that absolutely baffles and delights your character, but that you the player will fully recognise as a slightly-more-advanced thermos flask.

I love that in Fallout, an irradiated post-nuclear apolocalypic hellscape, there’s a cult that worships the god of radiation as they have come to understand it, and they are mysteriously immune to radiation with absolutely no explanation whatsoever. They’re not ghouls, the usual result of fatally irradiated humans with some resistance, they’re perfectly normal humans who can somehow just tank rads all damn day. It could be a mutation, but Lovecraftian gods apparently do also fully exist in this setting, so it’s also possible that maybe they were on to something with this Atom thing.

I love that in Heart The City Beneath, there’s a mass transit train system that they tried to hook up to the eldritch beating god-thing buried under the city so that they could metaphysically chain the stations together more easily, which went horrifically and metaphysically wrong in entirely predictable fashion, and now there’s a whole order of train-knights who have to keep people safe from the extradimensional weirdness magnet the network has become.

That, and all the fantastic little details you can stumble across. There’s a biotech augmentation in Starfinder called an angler’s light that gives you a little angler-fish bioluminescent antenna on your forehead, and it was developed by asteroid miners who needed light but also both hands free for work. In Dishonored there’s a festival that everyone pretends is outside of time so nothing you do during it can be held against you. There’s a god of snuffed candles mentioned in a single line from Heart The City Beneath who has pacifist cannibal priests, and that is literally all the information you get on him.

While things like the history and geography and timeline of a world do also fascinate me, I’m not really here to memorise stuff like that. I’m here to find weird little nuggets of information and worldbuilding and delight in them. Give me funerary customs and weird myths and oddly specific circumstances and baffling little objects and absolutely bonkers cosmological implications. Give me the corpses of dead gods, and aesthetic movements with highly specific backstories, and bureaucratic fuck-ups of titanic scale, and mysterious things that seem to break all other rules of your setting with absolutely no explanation because people in-universe have no fucking clue how they work either. Why are the Children of Atom immune to radiation without ghoulifying? Not a clue, but Confessor Cromwell has been cheerfully standing in that irradiated pond that kills the player character with about 10 minutes of exposure for the last year and he’s still absolutely fine.

I just. I really love lore. I like my settings to have some meat in them, some juicy details to dig into, some inexplicable elements to have fun trying to explain. Particularly that last bit. I feel like a lot of people when building worlds feel like the rules have to be absolute and everything has to have an explanation, but nah. Putting some weird shit in makes everything immediately feel bigger, more real, because we don’t have even half an idea of how our world truly works, there’s always something we just don’t fully understand yet, and you can put that in a fictional world too. Some mysteries, some contradictions, some randomness, some weirdness. There’s a line, obviously, this depends on execution, but a little bit of mystery really does help.

Lore is awesome. And weird lore is even more so. Heh.

[etz-ashashiyot]

Generally radicalized people are radicalized for a reason: their radicalization does something for them and/or they believe that their desire to reshape society in a way that they believe will fix things does something for them. The key to deradicalizing them, then, is to figure out what that need is and fill it with something else.

Most of the time, people don't actually want rivers of blood, they want justice for wrongs that they feel aren't being heard.

Most of the time, they don't actually hate [X] minority - they don't even know anyone of that minority! They hate the false strawman version of that minority that is completely detached from reality, but that's been sold to them as the source of their problems.

And most people are honestly kinda lazy, lol. They are not going to physically fight for their fucked up ideas unless either (1) they are backed into a corner and literally must, or (2) they get swept up as part of a larger mob where the bully mentality takes over and the few people leading it decide to turn it into a violent mob.

So you gotta suck the wind out of their sails.

This works best if they are in or adjacent to your own communit(ies), because you will have more insight into what this is doing for them.

For the goyische leftists that have been radicalized into Jew hate lately, it's a combination of things. It's a feeling of powerlessness as the world slides rapidly towards fascism and climate crisis. It's the ghosts of unaddressed colonialism that they are choosing to impose their emotional catharsis on this unrelated and falsely analogous situation to enact what they feel would be just in their own society on people safely half the world away. Why there? Well, it's because it's a very small area with all of the culturally significant places that they grew up hearing about from the Bible in church, so it carries emotional weight. Most importantly, both parties are small and neither party has much international power to stop them, so they are able to impose their own narrative on the situation and speak over everyone actually there. Anyone who tries to correct them is drowned out. And, it's the history of Soviet antisemitism that is baked into the DNA of most western leftist movements and which Jews have never had the numbers or power to force them to actually confront.

Jew hatred is extremely convenient and Jews have been murdered in large enough numbers that we are easy to talk over.

Now usually, when you start pointing these things out, and especially when you start pointing out how ineffective and self-serving their "activism" on behalf of Palestinians is, they are too radicalized to do anything but react emotionally. They will spit out talking points, but none of these things actually address any of the above. They usually just devolve into "but but, Israeli war crimes!!" like it's a talisman against accurate allegations of antisemitism.

Why won't they listen to reason? When you show them how what they're saying is literal Nazi propaganda with the swastikas filed off and "Zionists" being used as a stand-in for Jews while they simultaneously vociferously deny any connection between Jews and Zionism? Why won't they take any accountability for their bigotry? Why won't they, at a minimum, listen to the Palestinians who want peace even if they won't listen to Jews advocating for the same thing?

It's because then they would have to give up the major benefits that they've been reaping from this situation: the social capital, the excuses to act out, the glow of feeling totally righteous in their fury, the catharsis - and trade it for the extremely unappealing process of actually becoming a decent person and a better advocate for their cause. It's hurting people they don't care about and they have a whole lot of organizations and institutions and people with actual power who materially benefit from their misdirected anger stoking the flames, and helping them lie to themselves that they are actually helping someone besides themselves and the handful of true beneficiaries behind the conflict.

They are being used.

And in twenty years they'll wake up and realize that they spent their youth shouting Nazi and Stalinist slogans of hatred that only benefitted right-wing hawks on both sides who make actual money and power off this conflict at the expense of two persecuted minorities. But they will be ashamed and will bury that behavior underneath silence and excuses.

This happens in every generation, by the way. Every 70 - 100 years, people find a socially plausible reason to hate and kill Jews because it is easier than standing up to the people with actual power. We are people they know they can hurt, and so long as they lie to themselves about who they're hurting and why, it feels really good.

Overcoming that directly has never worked.

It doesn't work because catharsis and punching down or laterally feels productive and owning their biases and bigotry and developing practical long-term strategies is tedious and often feels like shit.

What I've seen real activists do is to address the need for catharsis, praise, and to feel useful in other ways, because they are often less attached to the specific lowest hanging bigoted fruit and more in the rewards it gives them.

If we want to see this change, yelling at leftists that they're being bigoted morons feels good (productivity! feeling a sense of reclaiming control and power from helplessness! catharsis! We are not immune to these human needs either) but it's counterproductive. You don't convince a toddler to give up the shiny dangerous toy by trying to just snatch it away - if anything, you've now cemented this as an epic struggle for all time against the cold, cruel, injustices of the parental controls. No, you have to give them a new, safer toy.

My position is that if we want to see movement on this, we need to suck it up, stop yelling at the radicalized, and start finding ways to help Palestine that both feel gratifying and are actually pro-peace.

And, for the true sick fucks who really do want rivers of Jewish blood (and if a bunch of Gazans are martyred in the process, oh well)? That's where we need our true allies to help us fight back the most. This type of person will never respond to anything but power, so they will back down if they feel that they are truly threatened. To get the rest of the fair weather friends on board, we need to show how these violent tantrums are actually threatening their new catharsis, gratification, and progress so that they aren't swayed by the bullies and instead want to guard their new emotional investment and moral high ground.

Ultimately, we all want to feel like we're the good guys. We want catharsis. We want instant gratification. We want to see movement. We want justice for the wrongs committed against us and those we choose to see ourselves in community with. Many of us have real-world serious grievances that are intractable and that we don't have the individual power to fix, but are intolerable as things currently stand. These people aren't special; they aren't different from us and we aren't different from them in those ways. The problem is that activism - real activism that actually moves the needle - will typically not give you that satisfaction or meet those needs, and most people don't have the mental space to meet those needs in a better way, so punching laterally becomes the quick fix solution. Meanwhile, the people in actual positions of power benefit from this gladiator fight.

And until actual activists reckon with that reality, we are going to see more and more of the same.

[trisshawkeye]

I can't now find where I mentioned it earlier but I wanted to expand on a thought about Black Sails as a tragedy. It's not so much about individual characters reaching particular endings. Rather, I think the central tragedy is that there is this fight - this war against the world, against civilization itself, which is the driver for everything Flint does and arguably the entire plot - that then doesn't take place. The story goes right up to the brink of this conflict, and by the end it's not just Flint raging alone against the world with whatever pirates can be persuaded to follow him, but it's Madi and the slave revolt and an entire people driven by what has been done to them and to their ancestors, it's something so much bigger than the individuals involved, with potentially world-changing consequences, history-changing consequences, an entire overturning of the colonising powers in the Americas.

And therein lies the tragedy, because we know the history, and we know that this story isn't just a Treasure Island prequel, it's interwoven with historical individuals as well and places itself in that context, and invites us to imagine what could have been while at the same time haunted by the spectre of how history actually plays out. The tragedy is that the war never happened. We know from the beginning that the war against civilization could never have been won in this story, but it still invites the imagining - what if, what if?

And so the audience is forced into the position of Silver, who is confronted with this vision of the future so ardently pursued and believed in by Madi and Flint, and cannot imagine it playing out. Silver, because he never believed in this fight to begin with and only knows that he will lose the ones he loves to it; us, because no matter how much we may believe in the cause, we know that they don't win, that there never was a slave uprising and pirate revolt that overturned the entire New World. Silver cannot bring that future about. All he can do is end the story.

Black Sails asks us to imagine, what if the treasure was not just a chest of gold, but an entire possible future that was killed and buried in the ground on a lost and forgotten island?

[hersterical]

I’ve put a little too much thought into atla slang for gay people tonight so here’s this.

Kyoshi Island:

Speaks about sexuality openly on Kyoshi Island but knows to be more careful around outsiders.

“Is she, you know…a student of Rangi?” (gay/lesbian)

“No. But she does follow in the footsteps of Avatar Kyoshi. She prefers the versatility of the fan over the sword or the shield.” (bi)

Water Tribe:

More “traditional” than the other nations so it’s a bit more subtle and reliant on accompanying eyebrow movements, hand gestures, and tone of voice.

“He’d rather go sailing than stay in the village.” (mlm)

“She’s shown some interest in ice fishing.” (sapphic)

“I personally prefer to fish in the same waters as Avatar Kuruk.” (bi)

“He’d rather spend the winter months alone.” (ace)

Earth Kingdom:

“Are you a member of the Flying Opera Company?” (lgbt+)

No one, including the Kyoshi Islanders are aware of the origins of this particular phrase

Fire Nation:

“I’ve dabbled in dragon’s fire before.” (This phrase specifically would be something like ‘I did some experimenting in college’ but the reference to dragon’s fire/breath would mean lgbt+)

“He wears a crown of fire lilies.” (lgbt+)

Even before the hundred year war they were one of the more intolerant of the nations (based on the Kyoshi novels) and they probably only got worse during the hundred year war. I’m sure they would’ve come up with more slang by the time we get to Korra’s time but I’m out of ideas for the Fire Nation.

Air Nomads:

As they are totally open and accepting to all genders and sexualities they wouldn’t feel the need for coming up with specific labels, let alone weird secret codes and slang. When nomads begin exploring the world and start to learn about the other nation’s ideologies and slang and everything they’re always confused but respects the other nation’s traditions and cultures.

bonus

Swamp benders:

Even more open about gender and sexuality than Kyoshi Islanders. They’re super casual and blunt about it without being disrespectful but also not trying to be respectful because why would anyone be disrespectful about this? There’s a polycule consisting of roughly ten people who all connected through an asexual tribe member that each member of the polycule has a qpr with. Darryl over there is interested in folks of all sorts. His spouse is all the genders. Not to be confused with Jim over there who is none of the genders. Not to be confused with Junjun who is the third gender… (etc)

I didn’t do a big deep dive into each nation’s culture and history. This is just from the top of my head and is just for fun. Let me know if you guys have any other ideas!

[pulsingvoid]

not negating anybody's experience i know black sails is outstanding regardless of how or when or how quickly you watch it. but also, as a gay person who watched it in real time, you really had to be there. they introduce anne bonny and you know your pirate history so you KNOW she's a girlliker. she has a moment with max but youre not sure where it's gonna go. because it's 2014. you wait over a year for 2x01 and she and max fucking obliterate you with the sword drop kiss scene. all anybody is talking about in the tags is vaneeleanor. a few weeks later 2.05 drops and flint is not only textually gay and kissing a man but he is waging war on england, on all of civilization for taking away his male lover. you find this out after investing fourteen hours on this show that have spanned over a year and a half in your real life. not to mention the miranda stuff and silver's arc and mr scott and madi and the death march that seasons 3 and 4 feel like when you have no inkling of how it's gonna end. but you stick with it regardless because it's good and besides it's 2014-2017 and the only genre show with gay people in it is fucking... the 100? lol anyway. more gay people flock to black sails between seasons and the tag becomes more about the gay shit than vaneeleanor, thank fucking god, finally. you all dread the last season. you brace yourselves for the worst. you thank the stars this show airs weekly because watching even just two episodes together is too overwhelming. 4.08 airs. you cry. 4.09 airs. you cry. 4.10 airs. your life will never be the same. you cry so hard you catch a fever and have to stay in bed all week to recuperate. you know this was a once in a lifetime experience never to be repeated again but you can't help but hold every other show to this impossible standard.

[ask-nyc-boroughs]

Early Appalachian frontiersman Alfred in buckskin circa 1790- 1810s. I’m trying to figure out how to paint like NC Wyeth digitally (so lol the background is Wyeth’s).

Gonna ramble a bit about my nor’easter au and Alfred below the cut

Following the American Revolution, Alfred is immediately sent out to squash any rebellions (like whiskey rebellion) and to partake in wars against Indigenous nations like the Cherokee. I’ll save a discussion about the Cherokee wars for another time because that’ll take a long time to explain + I’m still working on my Cherokee oc and I need to understand Cherokee history and perspective more before I go forward with talking about this topic.

Now the many of the east coast states are older than Alfred, and they mostly supported him during the revolution because they thought he’d be easy to control given at the time of the revolution he wasn’t tied down as any colony or city. However, he was a New Englander and very obviously so

He was once Plymouth colony and he grew up alongside his cousin Henry/Massachusetts, but by the time the revolution occurred, his status was unclear and he was simply living with his cousin (who’s his earliest and most fierce supporter) .

These states operated like countries and part of why the had the revolution was to continue to self-govern and maintain their regional cultures. It’s also part of why the federal government initially was rather weak. Given Alfred’s closeness to his cousin, and his very staunch New England identity, I think the states would be hesitant over a strong New England national control. And so I think they especially Jennie/NY & Rich/Virginia encouraged Alfred to leave his cousin for a while, and partake in military campaigns (+ he was good at battle).

Also Alfred was like 14, and I don’t think he’s ever been the type to sit down and do paperwork. Honestly he was always a bad student, who was far more interested in the outdoors, horses, sailing and hunting. While he won the war, and he was fine with being head of state, he still didn’t 1) have confidence in himself to make non-military related decisions 2) he just wasn’t mentally ready to take on the responsibilities and was fine deferring it to his states like Jennie, Rich, or Henry to figure out matters that weren’t military related. He was irresponsible and it would come back to bite him in the ass during the Civil War.

Alfred on a personal level it was probably good for him to get away from his overly critical cousin who can be overbearing, but also so he would get more experience to deeply get to know his states.

Also Alfred, growing up in New England, he was a little ball of rage as a kid and he has a difficult time managing his emotions. He wasn’t exactly the personable seemingly fun loving Alfred of the present. Not that he couldn’t crack a joke, but ok I’m not from New England, but in the northeast I find we’re rather cynical, un-filtered and sarcastic and tbh kind of asssholes in the way we have fun and in our humor. That’s how he was, which is like fine unless you’re trying to appeal to the rest of the nation lol which he would have to

I think his time spent in Appalachia and the south did help him learn more about his other states especially Maisie/ North Carolina. But also helped him learn more how to let go some of this intense New England rage, and how to better control his emotions. But also let loose in a way that isn’t so dark and cynical. Also I think this helped him slowly learn how to speak with less of a New England specific accent

He was also able to observe states like Rich and Carl/ South Carolina and gain an understanding of how being able to control your emotions, can help control your image and how others perceive you. So these are the origins of how he slowly began to shape and become at least in public this overly friendly happy go lucky Alfred.

I’ll save a discussion about his interactions with the Appalachian states more explicitly another time I’m just tired😴 fr rn

[facts-i-just-made-up]

What’s the history of software piracy?

The first known instance of software piracy took place during the privateer resurgence following the War of 1812 when the pirate Limebeard, under a commission from the British Admiralty, made a copy of “Lemmings” for the Amiga 15 from American forces in Bermuda.

As the first act of software piracy, this was a difficult and unprecedented undertaking. Computer software in those days was inscribed on metal punchcards, and Lemmings took up 8 tons of them. Limebeard had three of his frigates split up to the load, and two sunk on the way to Britain. Their cargo was rescued by the others however and King George was able to play the game, though rumor has it he never got past level 3 before giving up and returning to Shufflepuck Café.

Over the next decades, piracy evolved along with technology. As floppy discs became popular around 1850, pirates such as Napster Rackham began to sail in the Altdotbinari sea and through the Norwegian Torrents. This was known as the “Golden Age” of software piracy when thousands of tons of software infrastructure was stolen from the huts in which it was stored, mostly Adobe huts.

When sea warfare hit its stride in WWI, software piracy diminished and had died out entirely by WWII. Luckily, WWIII, IV, and VII proved a boon to the pirate trade. Russia and America had a battle of interests in which programs ranging from music players to ICBM launch software were traded across the ocean at phenomenal rates. One program, "Hypercard," which was used to hide launch codes from the lower chain of command, sold for $8 million to a bidder in San Francisco known only as "Sjobs69xxx420," who was never found or heard from again.

Entertainment based on software piracy also became popular, and movies such as "Tron" and "Pirates of the Copyrightian: Curse of the Decentralized P2P" made box office history. Today, software piracy enjoys protected status across the globe as an exercise of natural law, and is never prosecuted at absurd degrees given its minimal harm, which is levied strictly upon the richest corporations.

Nah just kidding they sued a 12 year old for $45 million for downloading Metallica’s Black Album. Real justice shit going on here.

[comfortless]

*ೃ༄ Some thoughts on a lighthouse keeper König with a fem, harpy reader! 18+ MDNI.

Signing away months of your life for routinized labor comes with little internal protests for him, he’s done it before with military work. He’ll do it again without question; anything, anyplace to keep him away from a house that’s never felt like home.

König’s blessed with an abundance of skills and the strength to perform hard labor. He’s disciplined enough to embrace the solitude, maybe even thinks of this contract as a reprieve from other people, from creature comforts and the hustle and bustle of ordinary life.

He packs only the bare minimum for himself— clothing he doesn’t mind lantern oil spilling onto, thick books ranging from myth to histories, a trusty hunting knife he’s been keening for the time to polish and sharpen to bring back to its former glory. Food and shelter are already provided for him in a cabin battered by sea breeze and saltwater just a bit too small for a man his size mere paces from the pillar of light that he’s resigned himself to tend to.

Each day is spent checking systems, keeping the haunting yellow light clean and functioning well, jotting down weather readings, and meticulously keeping things orderly. The occasional sound of a boat’s horn would bellow out, as close to a voice calling it’s thanks as it could get from his self-sought isolation. The ocean is lively enough for him, anyhow. The sight of a whale a short distance off shore isn’t an uncommon one, pods of dolphins flipping up into the air like performers, a show just for him. Even the sky above is a sight with flocks of birds he could not name passing by, or sea gulls flying high above only to ground themselves on the rocky shore to cock their heads at him; he imagines that if they could speak their small, shrill voices would ask him ‘What are you doing here?’, and he’s thankful he would never have to answer.

Each night, he reads. The bed is a bit small for him, a cot, really. He has to curl in a way that makes him feel like a dog left to waste away outside, knees nearly tucked to his chest and an elbow propped to keep his head up while he turns to pages of his books. He always wakes to his head resting on a page, the scents of old ink, amber and cedar fill his nose when his eyes flutter open.

He makes himself simple breakfasts, the scent of black coffee lingers throughout the cabin each morning. Occasionally it’s bacon, occasionally eggs in a basket, something as simple as his life has become. He thinks about his days of war when he walks to the shore with his mug in hand, wistfully watching the waves, haunted and volatile, so very much like the ocean of his eyes.

It’s never quiet. The gulls call from above, their wings outstretched as they sail through the air, and the waves make raucous noise as they crash against the rock, wearing down every fine point to something softer. A part of him longs to be worn down too, to pry that aching from his heart, the scars tarnishing his body, the callouses on his hands, dissolve them all in dark, salty waters with a gentle ebb and flow. He’s never thought himself to be one deserving of gentle things, but he greedily yearns for them anyhow.

He admires the sea shells that wash up on the sandy patches of the shoreline, some are pearlescent and untarnished, he dares not touch those. The ugly ones with splintering cracks remind him of himself, he’ll allow his hand to reach for those, toss them back into the hellish abyss where they belong. He doesn’t need a reminder of what he is, why he’s here. He wants to surround himself in pretty things that no one can dirty with their fingerprints, not even himself.

A torrential rain breaks up the monotony of his duty for a few days. He’s soaked to the bare bones running back and forth from the cabin to keep the light functioning, wiping away condensation from the glass that confines it and fiddling with the old machinery to stop the massive light from flickering. He holes himself up there, in that old tower for two long, sleepless nights. He imagines ghosts, ghosts of the people he’s killed without remorse dancing at the corner of his vision, taunting him endlessly from purgatory with their frantic dances and unnatural jolts. When he turns his head, their faces are gone, carried away by the ocean breeze that rattled the walls of the lighthouse, yet can not touch him.

He’s hardly able to keep himself upright when the rain finally stops. Addled from a lack of sleep and an ache from hunger, he slinks down the steps to the wet ground outside. There are no gulls fluttering about with their squeals and questions and begging, and for the first time since he’s come here, the water is calm. The sun beams down from a cerulean sky, not a single cloud fattened and gray with rain water in sight.

Only a bird.

König’s taken note of the wildlife since he’s come, all of the sea creatures that would swim about, the pelicans, petrels and gulls that would make their rounds. He’s never once seen a bird this big. It’s wings stretch wide, gracefully flutter to soar higher only to rear back, knees kicked up to its chest in its graceful descent. It doesn’t ground itself to beg him for a crumb of toast or shriek at him, it only perches atop the lighthouse, looking down at him as if exacting some strange, silent retribution.

The bird shifts in place for a moment as his eyes squint to get a better view of it. He’s mesmerized when he takes note of a very human face, soft nude flesh in place of feathers right down to the ankles that house plush, downy feathers and the coarse skin of scales leading down to brutal, curved talons. Her breasts heave and legs tense as she stretches her wings out to take flight. With a single leap she takes back to the air, twirls in it effortlessly as if she’s in the midst of the most elegant, seraphic dance to return to whichever whisper of heaven she descended from.

The most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

The salt and foam must play their tricks, because he’s no where near deluded enough to believe he’s seen an angel in a place like this, that one would think to visit him at all.

Still, he’s an awful bastard, because his cock twitches in demand from the sheer sight of her flying far, far away from him. He doesn’t allow himself to touch pretty things, but god he wants to touch you. He settles for returning to his cot and tugging down the zipper of his pants to rest his length in his hand, slow, deliberate strokes with his eyes closed, bringing himself to ruin from just a fleeting memory.

He chalks it up to sleep deprivation the next morning, a waking wet dream. Even before coming to this little island, it had been well over a year since he had been in the presence of a nude woman. Work quickly makes him forget, keeps his hands tied and his mind emptied of softer flesh and beautiful skies.

She comes back with the next storm, a shivering mess in the rain. A rough gale struck her down and he watched her spin out amongst thick, wet clouds, her form aglow with the backdrop of thunder. She falls to briny water, and without thought he’s left his cabin to dive right in after her, scooping the poor thing up to haul her back to the safety of a warm home, a roof above her head.

König wraps her in the only blanket that he has, feels her gaze on his back while he stokes a fire all for her as she sits and shivers, trying to gather her bearings. Human kindness is unexpected, unwarranted, really. She signals great storms, her talons cruel. He looks at her in awe when she nestles against his shoulder, her eyes locked to his, both faces warmed by the glow of crackling flames and comfort.

He tells her he isn’t worthy of an angel wasting her grace on him. She tells him that nothing sent barreling out of the sky like she had could be as pure as he believes.

[sunandsstars]

SPIDER THE MATCHMAKER

Recom!Miles x Na’vi!Reader x Spider (Platonic)

Summary: Spider finally had enough of Quaritch’s oggling and decided to help encourage his advances towards the reader, he has a ship, and he’s determined to let it sail. Warnings: Brief mentions of abandonment/murder/existential crisis, Swearing Word count: 1.8k

It was different, being accepted into Na’vi society. He was so used to being the bad buy, the killer among men, yet now he’s just..him. After becoming a recom he felt as if he did not belong, a human mind in an aliens body is something he had to get used to. He definitely had a lot of existential crisis up until now.

The last fight he had with Jake Sully in the reefs left him severely wounded and he had to retreat back to base to seek help, his men where gone and his morale was becoming low. Luckily his son, Spider, decided to join him. His reasoning was that while the Sully’s where kind to him growing up (especially kiri who he will miss dearly) he cant ignore the fact they never went after him when he got kidnapped by the RDA, he cant ignore how Neytiri was so willing to kill him after he showed the family nothing but loyalty and he cant ignore how he felt as if he never belonged with them as human. 

So there they are, holed up in the Tawkami Clan, learning their way of life and becoming part of the people.

Surprisingly they where quick to welcome them in despite them not having a good history with men kind, Spider said they where a peaceful clan with a persistent quest for knowledge and lore keeping, they were studious and make it their mission to preserve Eywa’s ecosystem. ‘So they wanted to study me, the human turned Na’vi, how could I say no to being the centre of their learning’

Quaritch was certainly liking the attention from the people, back at base he was oggled at yes, but for different reasons. Usually the looks he received where ones of admiration for his effort in the war all those years ago, or was disgust for his newly blue tinted skin. In Greenhome it was of great wonder, oh how her yellow eyes looked into his in fascination while talking about his past planet Earth, how she spoke about the plants and the forests of Pandora with great love, how-

‘’Hey man, you good?’’

Spider waved a hand in front of his face and looked around to see what could be stealing the man’s attention, once his sights fell on the beautifal Na’vi woman picking some fruit not that far away he smirked cheekily. ‘’You know you could always go and talk to her right? She wont bite’’. Quaritch blinked and scowled, grabbing his son into a headlock and rubbing his knuckles along his head at lightning speed. Spider laughed loudly and struggled in his fathers hold, wriggling and shouting for help, and when help did come the blue mans grip became limp embarrassingly fast.

‘’And just what do you think you’re doing to him hm?’’ ___ pried the boy gently from Quaritch’s arms and placed him on the floor to run around ‘’hurting children is not something we take lightly you know’’

Well shit.

The recom felt his face flush a cute lilac shade, it spread from his nose and across his cheeks, even going to the tip of his pointed ears. How did he become so weak in the presence of a lady? The old Quaritch would have never blushed at the sight of one. But then again he isn’t the man he once was. If ___ noticed the fluster of his face she didn’t mention it, instead she grabbed the hand that was rested on his lap, intertwined their fingers and pulled him towards the fruit she was picking. 

‘’Come, I will show you how to pick yovo fruit’’ she spoke in English. Spider has been a fantastic teacher.

If the purple on his face could become any darker, it certainly has. Her hand was so warm and small…

Spider could only follow and wiggle his brows to the man discreetly. He is determined to get this ship going.

Standing at the base of the large bush ___ started to show him how to pick the berry’s, ‘’they are delicate and must be handled with care, you must not squeeze them too hard when picking’’ she picked a couple of them into her hand, threw some into the basket with the rest and gave some to both boys. Spider lifted his exopack and quickly devoured them, sliding the mask back on and chewing loudly ‘’these are good’’ he stated matter of factly with a mouthful. The outside of his lips turning purple from the pigment.

___ giggled at his antics and looked to see Quaritch’s reaction, he rolled his eyes at the boy and slowly munched on a berry. Once deemed not poisonous (he has trust issues ok) he threw the rest into his mouth. ‘’Yea, these are fucking fantastic’’ the woman could only smile in glee, happy to share more of her planet with him.

That smile..it sent his heart beating incredibly fast. He was falling in love and he knew it. How couldn’t he? When she was just so gentle and sweet with his son, when she was one of the first to help them get comfortable within the clan. He needed to invite her out, fast. He wasn’t the only one with eyes on her. He mused, eyes glancing at a small group of hunters around a fire, some of which turned their heads away quickly as they got caught.

‘’I was uh wondering’’ he coughed. This is gonna be a pain in the ass.

‘’would you like to come out with me tonight?’’ Spider swallowed the last of the fruit and blinked up at his father, smiling wide. Finally. It’s not like he’s been waiting for months.

___ blinked in surprise, not expecting this sudden offer. She wondered if he was finally asking her to be mates. Could you blame her?  A 9 ft 5’’ Na’vi warrior, recently accepted as part of the clan and was a fantastic hunter. And those muscles…

Eywa give her strength.

Her tail swished in gradual hope ‘’yes. Of course I would Miles’’ she grinned, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth in sweet shyness, the same purplish hue coating the recoms cheeks starting to spread across hers. 

Quaritch let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Fuck, why was it so hard to ask for one simple thing. Never in his life has he felt like this, not with previous hookups, not with past girlfriends and certainly not with Paz – the deceased mother of his son.

‘’alright sweetness, meet me here tonight, after eclipse’’ ___ could only swish her tail at the nickname and nodded oh so cutely. Picking up her basket she patted Spider on the head and bid them a good rest of the evening, needing to go back to her chores. 

Miles Quaritch, former human, now Na’vi, was the ultimate womaniser. He puffed his chest out and smirked to himself. He deserved a pat on the back.

Like two peas in a pod, Miles Socorro read his mind and pat his lower back (the only part the poor kid could reach)

‘’well done dad, well done’’

The sun hid behind the planet known as Polyphemus and casted darkness, but Pandora never truly sleeps.

Two blue figures where seen jumping across branches and leaping from root to root, the bioluminescent glow of the moon never ceased to fascinate the man who has never known fresh air and real plants. He looked around in awe at his surroundings and himself, lifting his hands in front of his face and taking note of all the little white dots speckled across his skin. 

___laughed joyfully and turned around ‘’Miles come’’ she beckoned him to carry on, wanting them to get to their destination as soon as possible. The recom dropped his hands and sprinted to catch up with the female, her being much more experienced with the terrain and therefore had the upper hand in their little race. 

On the way they both came across fan lizards and proceeded to disturb them, watching the light of the animal as they flew cross their faces and up into the air. Giggles sounded out throughout the forest, joyful laughs and quick inhales of breath as they finally arrived to where ___ wanted to take them. 

The tree of voices.

Both slowly crept towards the sacred space, their steps leaving glowing footprints in the grass. The tree shone beautiful pinks and purples as the hanging branches swayed ever so softly in the wind, it wasn’t the only thing that took his breath away.

There she stood, with the biggest grin on her face, eyes twinkling in the light of their surroundings and tail swinging happily. She moved to the centre of the tree ‘’this is Ultral Aymokriyä, the tree of voices’’ she whispered softly, ‘’you are a man now Miles, one of the people, you are able to hear our ancestors’’ she grabbed his hand and brought him closer to a cluster of hanging branches and connected her queue to them, inhaling as the voices of the past filled her ears.

Quaritch followed her actions and his pupils dilated at the newfound sounds, he never really believed in Eywa before, taking it up as some sort of false goddess. But this, this proves whatever he thought was wrong. ‘’They live. Within Eywa’’ the woman facing him sensed a change of air and looked up as atokirina fell slowly to land on their shoulders. She gasped and disconnected her queue, never has she thought that the great mother would bless them both tonight.

This is a sign.

Miles looked towards the atokirina and then to the love of his life and decided that she was the one for him. He walked closer to her until they where chest to chest and grabbed her face in his overly large palms ‘’___. Now that I am one of the people I am able to choose a mate’’ he felt her tense under his touch and looked straight into her eyes to look for any uncertainty ‘’you have helped me and my son in a time of need, despite us being humans, you have seen past our faults and accepted us into your arms with love’’. ___ started to tear up, not expecting this heartfelt speech.

And in such good Na’vi, thank you Spider.

‘’___.. oel ngati kameie”

The woman suddenly took his face into her own palms and connected their lips, it was soft and sweet. Both leaving them breathless and wanting more.

“Ma Miles, I see you’’

Just couple of bushes away, a little boy with blue stripes was caught lurking, watching the two blue aliens as they confessed their everlasting love. He held his breath and lifted his mask, wiping a singular tear from his eye.

His ship has finally sailed.

[au-roulette]

Happy June!

To celebrate the fact that we are now officially one month away from the start of AU Roulette, have a post detailing the 36 AUs included in this year's challenge -- or don't, if you'd rather be surprised.

This year's AUs have been curated to be intentionally broad, in the hopes that they will encourage unique takes on each prompt and the creativity of the authors participating. You are welcome to write anything that falls under the umbrella of your assigned AUs, whether it's an original universe, a fusion inspired by another fandom, or something else entirely.

(What's AU Roulette, some of you might be asking? An explanation can be found here, along with the link to sign-up!)

Without further ado -- the AU list, under a cut:

Roleswap - Maybe you want to switch two characters' places, do a class-swap for a D&D fandom, try your hand at an age-swap fic, or you have another idea.

Superhero -- Invent an original universe or do a fusion with one of the many popular big-screen superhero stories. Play it straight and give your favorite characters cool powers, or try a deconstruction of the genre. With great AUs comes great responsibility

Gothic Horror -- Castles. Ghosts. Vampires. Drama. Love that conquers Death. Take your inspiration from classic literature or a newer entry in the genre, like The Locked Tomb books. But be sure to make things spooky.

Post-Apocalypse -- Will the world end in fire or in ice? Or maybe economic collapse, war, zombies, or one of many other options? You write what happens next!

Fairy-Tale -- Pick a classic tale from the Grimms, Hans Christian Andersen, Asbjørnsen & Moe, Charles Perrault, or another favorite author to inspire your AU, try out a more modern re-telling, or use fairy-tale elements to craft your own story.

High Seas -- Including but not limited to Pirate AUs and other Age of Sail adventures. Try out something more historical, or throw in as many fantasy elements as you'd like -- or a bit of both.

Time Travel -- For fixing mistakes, making things worse, or time loops. Or maybe you want to write a fusion inspired by a piece of popular time travel media, like Doctor Who.

Western -- Another AU where writers are free to do their history research or to lean into more outlandish genre conventions. Cowboys, cowgirls, and cowpokes all welcome, of course.

Mythology -- Write a story inspired by your favorite myths and legends, from a whole host of different cultures. Or maybe you'd like to try your hand at writing some epic poetry?

Coffee Shop -- A classic everyone knows and has strong feelings about. Play it straight or add a twist, whichever suits your fancy! After all, no one said where the coffee shop has to be...

College/Academia -- Are the characters in your AU students? Professors? Weary adjuncts? Throwing hands at a conference? Some mix of the above?

Theater -- Put those characters on Broadway or cast them in a disaster of a community theater production. Or a school play! All that really matters is the show must go on.

Ghost/Cryptid Hunters -- Maybe you want to write a story starring the next Scooby-Doo crew, or maybe there really is something strange in the neighborhood. Or maybe it'll never be clear what really happened -- it's your choice!

Secret Agent -- Code words, code names, you name it. Write a story about spies, cryptographers, or any other clandestine operators. Take inspiration from history or from James Bond. Just don't spill your secrets too soon.

Detective -- Whether you're writing the world's greatest detective or someone who just can't get a clue, play up the mystery! Use a classic locale like 221B Baker Street or invent your own.

Cyberpunk -- Time to write cyborg identity crises and fight the machine (literally)! Take inspiration from classic media like Neuromancer or Blade Runner or make a totally new cyberpunk universe of your own creation.

High Fantasy -- Elves and dwarves and gnomes, oh my! This AU could encompass everything from Middle Earth to D&D AUs to your favorite high fantasy books you read over and over as a kid. Or maybe you have your own spell to weave.

Band/Musicians -- Whether you decide to make the characters in your AU famous pop stars, part of an orchestra, students at a conservatory, jamming together in their garage, or otherwise musically-inclined, have fun with it!

Reporter/Journalist -- For everything from local anchors and newspaper staff to big-league investigative reporters. Write characters who'll do anything to get a scoop or with a strong sense of justice -- it's your call!

Cosmic Horror -- You don't have to love Lovecraft to get creative with this AU. Make characters comprehend the incomprehensible, send them messages from beyond the stars, and get a little creepy.

Heist -- Will you write a story about master thieves? Vigilantes righting some wrong? What's being stolen and why? Try a Leverage AU or a caper of your own making.

Space Opera -- The genre encompassing works like The Expanse, Imperial Radch, Mass Effect, and Star Wars, brimming with galactic empires, alien species, and chivalric adventures. Write a fusion set in the universe of your favorite work in the genre, or invent a new one!

Sports/Athletics -- Pick a sport, any sport -- whether a team game like hockey, an individual one like archery, a paired one like figure skating, or something a little unconventional, like roller derby or HEMA. Then it's ready, set, write!

Historical Era -- An AU type absolutely bursting with potential, from medieval romances to 1920s Prohibition AUs, to ones inspired by historical fiction like Les Miserables. Whatever era of history strikes your fancy, you can write it.

Road Trip -- Pack your favorite characters in a car and don't forget the snacks. Or maybe the spaceship, or something else if you're feeling adventurous. Where are they headed and why? Only you know the answer!

Space Exploration -- Whether you want to write modern-day astronauts, a futuristic Star Trek AU, or something inspired by the space race, the sky isn't even the limit with this AU.

Urban Fantasy -- For all your modern-with-magic settings. Write an AU inspired by something like Teen Wolf, Artemis Fowl, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or much of Neil Gaiman's oeuvre, or invent your own world where witches and websites coexist.

Museum/Archives -- Have the characters in your AU working in the exhibits or behind the scenes, down in the collections or even as archaeologists or paleontologists. What secrets are waiting to be unearthed there?

Hospital -- A surprisingly flexible AU option -- are the characters working there, or the victims of some unfortunate accident? Or maybe it's a bit of both. Take it wherever you feel like.

Camping/Wilderness Survival -- Could be anything from a fun summer camp or camping trip to a nightmare survival scenario. Write everyone having s'mores around the campfire or something inspired by media like Yellowjackets, where they might be having... something else.

Steampunk -- A fantastic opportunity to get creative with your worldbuilding. Try your hand at some alternate history, or invent a world of airships and other flying machines of your very own.

Shapeshifter -- Can the characters in this AU turn into anything they want? Or maybe they're more limited, like selkies -- even unable to control their shapeshifting at all (can I get an "awoo" from the werewolf fans?)

Classic Literature -- An AU somewhat more dependent on fusion ideas, but still very flexible! Pick a favorite classic book or play and let it inspire your writing!

Dystopian -- Create your own awful society or let a favorite piece of media guide you, like writing a Hunger Games AU. Will the characters break the cycle, or end up trapped in it?

Renaissance Faire -- A recipe for chaos. Write a bunch or faire-goers or have the characters in your AU working at the faire! Adventures await.

Scientist/Mad Science -- Write characters as normal biologists, physicists, and chemists, the next Frankenstein, or as hapless experiments themselves!

[ifindus]

since you seem to know a lot of history, I was wondering if you could tell us a little more about norway and his role during ww2, I feel like not a lot of people talk about his importance as an ally.

Let's pretend this wasn't sent back in November! Of course I can!!And "a little" turned into a decent amount 😳

Norway declared itself neutral when the war started in 1939, but became occupied by Germany in April 1940. Throughout the war Norway played an important role helping the allies win. Note that there is also a lot to be said about Norwegian collaboration with the occupiers during these years as well, but that is not the topic of this post.

During the war Norway had both a military and a civil resistance movement. The civil movement was directed towards NS (Nasjonal Samling, the Norwegian nazi party and the only party allowed during these years) attempts at converting people to nazism, while the military resistance were building an underground army who were prepared to step in for the liberation and who also organized sabotages during the last year.

Norway’s government went into exile in London, and was in large responsible for Norway’s war effort and resistance. They took control of the Norwegian merchant ships and put it at the allies disposal, probably Norway’s most important asset and contribution to the war effort. The Norwegian marine and air-force also partook in operations along the Allies, and a Norwegian brigade was organized in Scotland, who were to partake in the final liberation of Norway.

The exiled government had an extensive running contact with the growing resistance back home in Norway, and could gradually provide the resistance with supplies and other support. Soldiers from the Scottish base were sent on missions to aid the resistance in Norway and conduct sabotages.

There as also a base for Norwegian resistance established in Stockholm, who were eventually allowed by the Swedish government to form a military force of 14 500 people under disguise of being police. About 50 000 Norwegians fled to Sweden during the war, and many Norwegians in the border areas aided them as guides over the mountains through difficult and secret passages – they also smuggled goods and supplies through the same routes.

The civil resistance was not exclusively organized, but included everyone who was not a nazi and could be as simple as civil disobedience. Teachers, parents, and priests opposed the effort to convert the youth to nazism by the NS through forced nazi curriculums in schools and obligatory youth service. Other examples of civil resistance were Norwegian workers sabotaging or not even doing the bare minimum at the jobs in factories for the Germans, and the publishing of illegal news-papers which were spread by people handing them to the next person. The most famous illegal news-paper was London-Nytt (London News), and were just Norwegian translations of BBC broadcasts transcribed directly from illegal radios.

The military resistance was known as MILORG, and this secret group had its peak in the last year of the war. This was when they began receiving guns, military equipment and professionals. During the last year they carried out assassinations and sabotages to a much more effective and extensive degree. MILORG was taking orders from the Norwegian military in London and coordinating with them, passing vital information back and forth.

When the Second World War began, Norway was the world’s fourth largest shipping nation, after Great Britain, USA, and Japan, with the Norwegian fleet being the most modern. When Norway was occupied and the Germans demanded Norwegian ships return to Norwegian ports, all of the around 1 000 ships set sail for Allied ports. The Norwegian government in exile commanded all Norwegian ships sail for securing supplies for Norway and the Allies. The ships supplied Great Britain with invaluable wares such as food and oil, and kept up the transatlantic trade during the war. The Norwegian sailors were also present at evacuations and invasions of occupied France and fascist Italy, North-Africa, and Normandy in 1944. The Norwegian ships were under constant attack from the German fleet and many sailors lost their lives transporting for the Allies, most of them working continuously for the five years Norway was at war. Almost half of Norway’s fallen during the war were sailors killed at sea.

[jammechanics]

And. We. Are. Back! Jam Mechanics returns for season 2 with our first guest prompter (Our longtime collaborator and artist, ⁠@deepblueink2d⁠!). In our first episode back we reveal the fate of Jam Mechanics Mansion (Castle?) and reflect on the ocean that separates our two co-hosts Jam Mechanics is a podcast hosted by Matt (@narcissistcookbook) and Bug (@bughuntermusic) where we are challenged to write a song demo from scratch every episode.

If you'd like downloadable files for this episode (and the demos we showed off), ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠you can go to our Bandcamp⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ or ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠website⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ to pay-what-you-want to support us!

Our brand-new discord is here⁠⁠⁠

and follow us on Instagram, YouTube, etc! Please share the show (and our music) with friends!

-- SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE BELOW --

Challenge: Transatlanticism

BUG'S SONG Title: Agamemnon Lyrics: I am aboard the Agamemnon, we are laying down a line It's gonna cross the ocean floor, the greatest project of our time A telegraph from Newfoundland will reach the Irish Shores but by by the time this note arrives you will not love me anymore

I am aboard the Agamemnon, laying cables in the sea For the purpose of the president to parley with the queen As for me, I've got this letter that I'll send you in the morn but by the time this note arrives you will not love me anymore

You will not love me by the time you read this note You told me you would wait if I had to go I keep your photo in a locket to remind me of my home

but while aboard the Agamemnon I have so much time to dream of a world where I can reach you with no middle-man between And maybe when we're done I'll get my turn, as a reward but I never got that chance, now you don't love me anymore When I made it to Niagara, you didn't love me anymore

You will not love me by the time you read this note You told me you would wait if I had to go I think of you so often with no way to let you know

This is only the beginning, this simple cable in the sea Soon we'll have radios and satellites and waves we cannot see No one'll know the pain of loving one they cannot reach

I'd commandeer the Agamemnon and I'd sail it back to shore it's just a faster way to learn that you don't love me anymore so I'll keep laying this cable for the lovers not yet born so that they may never hear "No, I don't love you anymore"

MATT'S SONG Title: The Tollbooth Lyrics: When Britain's national health service was launched in 1948 it set sail in the wake of the second world war when the country's citizens the upper and lower classes both the rich and the desperately poor had served together, side by side and the ones who survived the horrors came home demanding to no surprise more

we did not fight, they said in our millions just for things to return to the way they were we didn't die they said in our hundreds of thousands just to save a country where the leading cause of death is poverty and perhaps for the first time in british history the aristocrats and the working class agreed on something largely that arming the nation and teaching them how to fight and die for what they believe in makes their demands somewhat more convincing

and so barely three years after the soldiers had come home on july 5th, 1948 the british health system was torn out by the follicles and rebuilt in a new vision that it would be free at point of service, that no one, NO ONE, would be turned away or trapped into debt by lack of personal means that it would be available to everyone who walked through the doors of a hospital or a GP's office and that the well off wouldn't be able to skip the queue this was radical beyond comprehension a truly universal healthcare system doctors across the nation barred their doors and hired personal security so sure were they that the empowered impoverished would storm their offices demanding medicine and aid only to find on that monday morning a polite queue of people in need who for the first time were able to receive the treatment they would have had since birth if they had been born into a wealthier family

the trouble is healthcare is one of those futureproof industries like plumber people are always going to need water and if you can fix their pipes you are, within reason, set for life and the hospital and the doctor's surgery are no exception people are always going to get sick they're always going to get injured at the very very least everyone has to be born and everyone has to die and you would be an idiot would you not if you had the opportunity and the presence of mind to not set up a tollbooth at the well-worn bridges that lead into and out of this life

i am being faceitious of course who thinks like this who is so calculating and cruel that they would look at the legions of dying and sick and feel not compassion but greed who would see not the faces of their own parents, friends and children but a sea of investment a captured market a well of bottomless profit

it would be inappropriate for me to delve too deep into the catacombs that are the American Healthcare System if you are listening from those shores, then you know better than i do how it feels to live in fear of a broken bone of a cough that won't go away of a necessary surgery or a birth in the family I have personally met people who were having to choose between treatment for a treatable disease and a slow death So as to have something to leave their loved ones in their will A meagre windfall, after all, is infinitely preferable over a cascade of debt Maybe, at best, you are simply aware of how lucky you are To not fear these things as many do The privilege of being able to treat mild maladies as the inconvenience they are rather than an existential threat

I bring this up only because The profit machine that is the american healthcare system Is hungry And needs to be fed There is no such thing as too much money There is no endgame in an investment portfolio Where you find the princess in the very last castle and the credits roll There isn't a kill screen where the arcade machine craps out and kicks you back to the beginning The score just keeps getting bigger and bigger, the numbers getting longer and longer, Separated by decimal points and letters and commas And when the numbers get so unwieldy that we run out of space, Eh, we'll just start printing the end of year reports in landscape The machine needs to eat And the painkillers and bloodied sheets of 333 million people could only satisfy it for so long Its eyes, inevitably, have turned east

And what do you think it sees? When you have broken your arm and are getting it cast at 3am When your parents start visibly ageing and wilting When your child gets a cough that won't go away Do you think it wants to help? Or do you think it wants to fucking eat them?

[themotherofblood]

CHAPTER 1| RIVER OF GOLD |

The Lady | T.L x READER |

series masterlist | main masterlist

~ and if I was a child, did matter? If you got to wash your hands. ~

“He scares me, just a little. Not a violent way I suppose but as if he knows everything about me, though he might if he paid for spies. I am to be his wife, never thought I’d lay with a Lannister and yet here I am. Father has forbade me from writing to Doran, he would be mad at me. Lannisters and us have had a bitter history, my sweet aunt lost at the cost of war but perhaps this would be my first taste of power. I would be his wife, I would hold the sword.”

Grey, the skies were grey in the Westerlands. Black adorned every noble lord and lady's bodies as they stood by the falls. Five children stood as they mourned the death of their mother, along with many other houses who had only come to pay respects; out of obligation. Only five young bodies knew the truth of what had happened.

"Our princess took a terrible fall." the Maesters and handmaidens said, a truth laced with an ugly lie.

Our mother killed herself

The silk that wrapped the former princess's body held the further truth, if one peaked in they would see her bashed left cheek from the impact, a little lower they would see her crushed collar bone and even lower they would see blackened bruises from the fall. They would also see scars, yellowing bruises and fingerprints all over her skin, the testament to the brutality she had to suffer at the hand of her lord husband.

She was gone, and a candle that all five children held in the storm; blew out with her. The oldest boy Jeagir stood with his arm around his sister, you. Her hands rested on the shoulders of her two younger sisters Ellia and Nyela and their Maester Crasden, that stood next to them with an asleep toddler in his arms; the youngest Loren.

While the younger girls wept silently, their older siblings silently boiled in rage. All four children were handed torches as they walked to the four corners of the pyre their mother laid on, a Dornish priest went on with words that were muffled in the noble children's ears. While some remembered the screams from that night, some could only hear the crackling fire in their hands. In unison they lit the four corners of their mother's final rest. She would be safer now, nobody would hurt her now.

Your mother had written to you six moons ago, "Fly back to me, child." She had written. Her Martell uncles had managed to get her on a ship within the next day of the letter's arrival. The ship flung the banner of House Martell and delights filled the cargo of the ship for their dear sister.

"Give her my love." Doran Martell had said as he kissed the top his niece's head, a girl he had raised as his own for the past twelve years.

The morning you arrived to Lannisport, your receiver and long friend Fredrick also brought the doomed message.

"Princess Elina took a terrible fall."

One look at your mother's dead body and the guilt in your mother's handmaiden's eyes, the horrified sullen eyes of your sisters and the rage in your brothers eyes. You knew.

Your mother killed herself.

Lannisport was controlled by the most powerful family in the Westerlands, the Lannisters. More specifically Tywin Lannister. That man knew everything that went on in his lands and surely a Dornish ship with Martell sails entering his harbour was to be brought to his attention. He had ridden out that day, as he did every other day to visit Lannistown and the port. Mostly to set his own eyes upon the visitors from Dorne, he had taken extra guards as a welcome party.

He watched from high ground as the ship docked itself, five boats emerged from the ship. One with a golden pavilion shade, harbouring most likely a person of noble decent. He wondered if the Martells finally had come for his head, but out emerged a young lady at best in a pink Dornish dress, you.

His brother Kevan had rode down to the ports to enquire about the arriving party before riding back to his brother. Tywin watched as a man stood with the banner of his sworn house Maerilys, he watched as the man greeted you dressed in pink, then he watched you speak and for a moment all the colour drained from your face. It seemed as though everyone around you had frozen too, then he watched as your hand came up to your forehead, your lips widen as all the men and women that came with you hung their head low. A message came for him too, a rider rode out from Casterly Rock with the message.

"Princess Elina Martell of House Maerilys has passed."

Kevan too returned from the ports.

"That's Lord Maerilys's eldest daughter."

Tywin had arrived to Deep Den after the funeral, he had known Princess Elina personally having been a close companion to his late lady wife Joanna, the woman wasn't much older than him but he knew wits when he saw it, though he never liked the man she married. Lord Loren Maerilys, clearly named after his ancestor but Tywin knew that man held no kingly qualities. The house provided a good chuck of the Lannister fleet and armies, siege weapons and other labour personnel to Casterly Rock.

Lord Maerilys was a cruel man, the Mad King had his own reasons but Maerilys was another kind of evil, he flaunted his affairs in his lady wife's face, he beat her and humiliated her. Princess Elina on the other hand suffered through it all, many never understood why, she was Dornish. If she had written about the true brutality of her husband to her brothers. They would have landed an army right at her front gates to take her home. She never did, she suffered it all.

When you were born to the household, Lord Maerilys was not pleased, had it not been for his advisors and Maesters, he would have thrown your babbling form into the sea to wash off your existence, to another father you may have been a delight, a gorgeous little girl. But to your father, you were weakness, you couldn't carry their house's name.

Maester Crasden protected you as alittle girl as best he could, keeping you for longer lessons or away from your father's sight most times. However she you fell in the trap of your father's violence, instead of staying in your bedchambers one night as your mother's muffled wails rang through the halls, you hid a dagger stolen from the armoury in your skirts and walked into your parents chambers. Your little hands were ineffective, the blade you wielded ended up giving you a bigger cut than her father and a swollen bruise to her cheek from a backhanded slap.

"You insolent cunt! I could have your head for this." He screamed like a mad man as the little girl's glare never left him. That night her mother wrote to her brothers for help for the first time. She urged them to take her daughter, to raise her as their own with her nieces and nephews.

"Protect my girl, do not let her flame die." She had written.

Tywin had strayed from his riding party for a while, he rarely got to breathe in the country and the serenity of its views. He wanted to tarry a bit, as his riding party prepped for his arrival. The Old Lion had taken a guard along with him, surely he was learned enough to know that he was safe no where. There was a faint rush of water from the great falls in the mountains by Deep Den, the birds sang their songs as the air in the forest remained thick and humid, and Tywin walked through it all like he owned the forests. He had taken a long deep breath, closing his eyes as his head lifted upwards, allowing himself to unravel for just a moment. Though his moment of peace was interrupted by the whoosh of an arrow that nearly missed him and lodged itself onto the tree trunk behind him.

His guard drew their swords, at alert as Tywin sat strong on his horse. All of them looking around to find the source of the attack, a rustle in the bushes and most of them were prepared to fight. Until from the bushes and vines emerged your figure dressed in commoner rags, out of breath and sharp as you looked around before your eyes widened at the men with their swords out. You hands instinctively held tighter on your bow as your chest heaved, looking at all three men skeptically; until the armour they wore gave their true identity away. Lannisters.

You dropped the bow, raising your hands in defence. Gulping at the glare, the lord had fixated on you. If you weren't mistaken, you stood in the presence of Tywin Lannister. Comely and stern looking man.

"Forgive me, my lord. I thought you were a deer," you looked at him apprehensively, as you prayed to the gods, that this man knew nothing of your identity.

"Clearly not," He nodded at his men to sheath their steel.

Tywin didn't trust the girl, and the only way he knew that he would make out of these woods without killing you, was to take you with him. You were clean, too clean for a commoner. Your posture and nimble fingers, too relaxed to be an assassin. You looked familiar and yet he couldn't quite put a name to the face.

"Who are you girl?" Tywin commanded, his eyes capturing every detail of the sweet maiden before him. The velvet of your dress pointed that you were no mere peasant girl, though your unruly hair and mud over your hands would unlikely make you of noble birth.

"I am a kitchen wench, from the Den my lord," you tried to hold his gaze to not seem as if you were lying through your teeth. The lord gave you a grunt of answer before turning his horse around.

"Come along then. No girl like you should be out here alone." He ordered but you stood your ground

"Forgive me my lord, strange men offering escort in the middle of the woods, not exactly reliable," you made your case "I can find my own way home." With that you ran, abandoning your weapon. You ran through the very well known forests as the Lannister guards wandered deeper into the forest with no avail.

You huffed in exhaustion as you returned home, sweaty and covered in dirt. What was to be a trip to clear your head turned out to be a rat chase. The maids all looked scared for their Lady, for surely if Lord Maerilys saw his daughter in this condition, not only would he have your head but also the gaurds that were supposed to be escorting you.

"You must change, before your father sees you my lady." A man called out, Fredrick Serrert. When you had left the shore he was merely a boy but when he came to receive you, he stood a man grown at nearly six foot three.

Down in the Deep Den's hall, Lord Maerilys. A stubbed, and disgruntled old man greeted their liege lord. Both lord exchanged words of formality before Tywin walked himself to the rear gardens, where a burnt out pyre of ashes remained, still gusts of simmering smoke emitted from it. There laid Princess Elina, he still remembered her face, how young him and his betrothed were when his father had brought him along to their wedding. An elaborate affair, the Dornish princess was set to marry the older Maerilys brother, yet tragedy struck Daven Maerilys and her "condition" (the birth of your brother) left her in choice but to wed the younger brother Loren Maerilys instead.

"They say you look for a wife, Lord Tywin." Lord Maerilys asked, the old lion just nodded in reply.

"I have three. The older one just returned from Dorne, and my two younger one's are yet to bleed but should be of cause my lord." Tywin's face scrunched up in disgust, though his face looked away from Loren, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sure Tywin had imposed a marriage on his daughter, but sell out your daughters that young. Then out of the blue, it hit Tywin.

"Kitchen wench." He scoffed under his breath. He hadn't been outsmarted in a while but surely he was looking forward to meeting this Lady as he put a name to the familiar face. He remembered you from the docks

All the Maerilys kids poured out one by one. Olyvar came first, head held high and the spitting Dornish image of his mother, behind him trailed the two younger girls, Nyela and Ellia. They stood in a line as Tywin was introduced to them, he shook the oldest boy's hands and charmingly complimented the little girls on their hair. Then burst through the doors was another, your hurried feet found you standing next to your little sisters, with a toddler in your arms. You gracefully bowed.

"This is my eldest daughter." your father introduced you, every cursed word you could think of you used on yourself internally. You prayed that he would keep his mouth shut about earlier, and thank the gods he did.

"And who might this be?" Tywin gestured at the child wriggling in your arms, your sweet brother you had only seen painted palm prints off in your mother's correspondences

"Harolld Maerilys, my lord." you voice spoke up, a lot gentler then earlier, almost a whisper as you tried to not startle the child.

Tywin that night thought of the proposition Lord Maerilys put forth, there was something about this girl that just made you tick. Tywin wasn't a child that merely beauty would sway him, though you were quite a sight he had seen in a while, full lips, expressive eyes. There was something commanding about you, the way your eyes never left his, your head held high even admist all this sorrow. He saw a gain in this too, an alliance between Martells and Lannisters, you were important enough for them to send you home with Martell sails.

The next morning he made his wishes heard, he would court you for the week he was to reside at Deep Den, and leave with a bride by him.

You were having none of it, a screaming match broke out in the hall. As servants and soldiers turned a deaf ear to them yet again. You had nothing against this wedding but you refused to leave you little sisters behind at the hands of a monster.

"The girls will leave with me to Dorne!" You yelled over your father's voice

"You watch it girl, I could sell you and sisters for a lump sum and no one would bat an eye!" Your father threw back, menacingly nearing your proximity. However you weren't a child anymore, you stood your ground glaring up at your father. His hand shot forward, yanking your head up from the root of your hair making you yelp out in pain.

"Hurt me, go on. My uncles will cut your hands off if I tell them about this." your words were laced in venom and yet the truth. Doran Martell, was viciously protective over you and Oberyn, your sweet uncle Oberyn. You were his sunshine, though he may never see you more than just his little niece, your heart once yearned for more with your Uncle Oberyn. Many whispered at Sunspear that you had given your maidenhead to him and how you wished that were true.

"My lord." Maester Crasden's voice made Lord Maerilys push his angry daughter away, as tears threatened to roll down your face. You sat on the chair with your head on the table, rubbing the spot your father had held onto. Crasden came over, his fingers gently parting your hair to check for injury, you sweet lady would be fine.

"Marry him child." you scoffed at Crasden but he looked at you as if he wasn't finished, he sat down next to you.

"You would be the Lady of Casterly Rock, our liege lady," he cleared his throat before going on "you could order your sisters away to Dorne." His hand patted your cheek "You would hold power, I could not help your mother child. Let me help you."

The old maester's words had sunk deep within you as you began to ponder on the topic of your marriage and finally gave in, other than Tywin's cruelty on the battlefield and politics, there was no account of him ever imposing himself on women, you began to think of if you'd be safe and the only way to confirm your queries would be from the source itself.

You and Lord Tywin had found yourselves in your mothers gardens, you had called for him yourself and Tywin was curious to hear what you had to say.

"I realise how auspicious of a union this is, however I have questions and terms of my own before I agree to this." you kept your voice strong as you voiced yourr feelings on the matter.

"Go on then, my lady." Tywin walked past you to sit down.

"I truly hope that you know my disdain isn't toward you my lord, but merely a worry for my prospects." you stated as you sat down across from him, you didn't want to elaborate further, not wanting to slander your father in front of his liege lord.

"I am aware, my lady" Tywin's stress on the word made you look away. If your mother's troubles had been so known, how come none of these vast noble lords come to her aid.

"You needn't worry about me imposing myself on you" He suggested making you look at him, grateful and confused

"You would be well looked after and eventually sponsored for when the time came for your duties at Casterly Rock." He elaborated further.

"I knew your mother, I have a debt that still needs to be paid." The mere mention of your mother made the your eyes gloss over.

"And I would be safe?" There was a gentle crack to your voice.

"You would be safe." He reassured you, the green of his eyes glinting against the sun.

So it was setttled, Lady Maerilys was to wed Lord Tywin Lannister, ravens flew from Deep Den to Castley Rock, The Red Keep and to Sunspear. The news of this alliance spread through both families, both his children and the Martells were furious at about the wedding but it was done. A small affair at the Great Hall, you wore your mother's ivory dress that was fit to your sizing, that morning your mind nearly changed again as you tried to make a break for the ports but was stopped by Olyvar. If not for yourself then you performed her duties to protect her sisters.

"Father."

"Smith."

"Warrior."

"Mother."

"Maiden."

"Crone."

"Stranger."

"I am hers and she is mine."

"I am his and he is mine."

"From this day until my last day."

A chaste kiss between the two sealed this union. You were now Lady Lannister of Castley Rock, and hell was to pay if anyone tried to hurt you.

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