#moses ward

[decca]

[gerstein03]

[bookdork1]

has anyone else been watching found on nbc because holy fucking god its sooooo good and intense and INSANE and look i did not watch saved by the bell i missed that show by like ten years but i know saved by the bell as a zeitgeist and when i realized who mark paul gosselaar is in the show i was like !!!!!!! NO WAY HOW

[fantomcomics]

What’s Out This Week? 1/4

Thank you all for an incredible 2022! We hope you had amazing holidays, and we can’t wait to spend 2023 with you!

Children Of The Black Sun #1 -  Dario Sicchio & Letizia Cadonici

"It is not difficult to be happy under a blue sky. But it takes a lot of courage to be strong even under a black sun."

Over the years, a black sun has risen twice. A dark dawn whose rays have done terrible things to people's minds, driving them to all sorts of horror. Twelve years have passed since the last time and the world still fears the return of that inexplicable phenomenon. But fear is not the only legacy of those terrible days. All the women who got pregnant under the influence of the black sun have given birth to babies with some... peculiarities. White hair, ashy skin, abnormal proportions, and eyes as red as fire: the Children of the Black Sun. Brightvale is a small town like many others. 

Here the Children of the Black Sun are treated with particular contempt, especially in the days leading up to the anniversary of the two disasters. The hatred of their fellow villagers, terrified of a possible return of that horror, will push these kids to unite and embark on a hallucinatory journey to discover themselves and their true nature. But is the black sun really about to return?

Gangster Ass Barista #1 -  Pat Shand, Renzo Rodriguez, Conor Hughes, & Fin Cramb

Trinity used to live a life of crime, but now she has left behind her old life and works at a coffee shop. Unfortunately, making ends meet isn't easy to do with a minimum wage job. Not to mention the fact that customers are beginning to get on Trinity's nerves, and it's getting harder and harder to not let her old tendencies take control.

When Trinity's past comes calling, it's like the famous quote: "Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in!"  

I’m Kinda Chubby And I’m Your Hero GN Vol 1 -  Nore

Honjiro is a rookie actor trying his best to land a breakout role, but he fears that his weight stands in the way of his dreams. One day, he's surprised by fan mail full of sweets. The package came from Konnosuke, a local pastry chef-Honjiro's first major fan! As Konnosuke supports Honjiro's work and gives him new confidence to face the stage, will their relationship grow beyond just aspiring star and fanboy?

Mosely #1 (of 5) - Rob Guillory & Sam Lotfi

In the hyper-technological world of the later 21st century, Mosely is a bitter old janitor on a mission from a higher power-to unleash holy Hell upon the "too big to fail" Tech Gods. Can one man bring down the corporate powers who've used their vast influence to oppress an all too complacent human race (and hopefully win back the favor of his estranged family while he's at it)? Mosely's taking up the Holy Hammer and you better believe he's gonna smash some $h!t until he sets mankind free!

Potions Inc TP Vol 1 - Erik Burnham, Stelladia & Natasha Alterici

The call of adventure always seems to hang up whenever Randelgast Jones tries to answer it, leaving him facing the dull future of working in his family's successful potion shop. But when a powerful artifact is stolen from his parents and puts them under a terrible curse, Ran finally gets the quest he's been after his whole life. He and his siblings set off to find the missing artifact - and its trail leads them from their homeland of Primaterra to the very strange realm of... Seattle, Washington. 1992.

Spy Superb #1 (of 3) - Matt Kindt

It's John Wick meets Wes Anderson in this mystery-thriller about a secret organization that's developed the perfect spy. Who is the perfect spy? A spy who doesn't even realize they are a spy. AKA the "useful idiot." This particular useful idiot is named Jay. Jay is sent on missions without even realizing he's on a mission. Until he picks up the wrong phone with the wrong secret intel and now Russian hit-squads and elite assassins are after him. But Jay believes he was a sleeper agent-and really is the "spy superb". His complete obliviousness and lack of survival skills may be the only thing that saves him in this globe-trotting espionage tale . . . where nothing is what it seems . . . but also . . . kind of actually is what it seems.

Trojan #1 (of 4) - Daniel Kraus, Marco Lesko, Laci & Jeff Dekal

Once upon a time, we lived alongside Legends. Creatures of myth. Centaurs, fauns, gorgons, kelpies, gnomes, and more. They were spectacular. Majestic. Powerful. Peaceful. Pure. In comparison, we were ugly. Weak. Warmongering. Rotten. Is it any wonder we could not live alongside them any longer? After driving these Legends to the fringes of society, an uglier form of mythos takes shape in the form of rumors of live snuff shows for dark web high rollers. When a mysterious young woman, Nessa, enlists the help of a hacker to take a tour of the grisliest corners of the Dark Web, she sets in motion a war between those who peddle to mankind's darkest fantasies and a world that transcends imagination. Trojan is fantasy thriller full of wonder and horror in equal measure.

The Ward: Welcome To The Madhouse TP -  Cavan Scott & Andres Ponce 

St. Lilith's is a secret hospital for supernatural creatures. The personnel are overworked, the facility is underfunded, and all operations must be kept hidden from the public. A place, and a life, Dr. Nat Reeves thought she left behind. Until a wounded woman (with a tail) appears on her doorstep.

Whatcha scooping up this week to start the new year right, Fantom Fam?

[artistaforever]

Jillian and Jeff at the 2023 GMA Sparkle Spell

[ourobores]

DECEMBER

chandrama deshmukh, a teaspoon of stars / claude monet, snow scene at argenteuil, 1875 / counting crows, a long december / anna mary ‘grandma’ robertson moses, snow ball / natalie diaz, manhattan is a lenape word / laetitia de haas, birds in a winter garden / fritz ward, love letter from inside fatherhood / nate klug, advent / serhiy shyshko, saint volodymyr's hill / w. s. merwin, song of three smiles / charlotte joan sternberg, home through the pines ii / mike chasar, conches on christmas / alfred sisley, la maison sous la neige, 1878 / robert creeley, the door / claude monet, the magpie / sarah kay, winter without you

[lambtotheslaughterr]

When The Bough Breaks : Finale

A Rafe Cameron Mini Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 3.8k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

PART NINE | MASTERLIST | EPILOGUE

            You didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror. She stared back at you, her hair dolled up, light make-up on her face, & an engagement ring on her finger. Who was this person?

            The dress you wore was enough to your liking, but you loathed what you were wearing it for. It’s been a month since you last saw Moses, since you told him you wanted a divorce. The rest of that night seemed like a fever dream. You still had a hard time believing it was real. But it was. The person who slept next to you every night since, who fucked you awake & fucked you to sleep, who moved you into a new house—Rafe Cameron, your husband to be.

            Today was your engagement party. It would be your public announcement as a couple, surrounded by people who praised Rafe, but knew nothing about you. Knew absolutely nothing about how you were blackmailed into marrying him. But you reminded yourself every second of every day that it was to protect Moses. If only you could have been faithful to him…

            You moved in a trancelike state as you slipped into your heels, trying to ignore the glint of the ring on your finger. Rafe had bragged to you how much it cost, five zeroes he had said. But you didn’t care. You’d rather chop your finger off. And it was worse that it was Ward Cameron’s money who paid for it. Ward Cameron, a man not much older than you, about to be your father-in-law. Your stomach whirled for a third time that morning.

            Ever since your relationship with Rafe began to spiral you had been painfully sick. You threw up often, felt dizzy when you were on your feet for too long, was nauseated by the sight of Rafe every moment you saw him. You blamed it on stress, discomfort, but something horrible, something much, much worse nagged your thoughts… You wouldn’t say it, couldn’t. You needed to pretend that the possibility of that happening was as unreal as your soon to be marriage.

            Your heels clacked on the hardwood floor as you went into the main room of your home. You were no longer living on the beach, but you weren’t far, not at all. Ward insisted on you & Rafe still living nearby, so you were in the same neighborhood, just now around the corner & more inland from your home with Moses.

            Moses. Tears pricked at your eyes. You had broken his heart. The look of betrayal & loneliness on his face when you uttered the dreaded words. You had nightmares about it.

            “My beautiful, perfect fiancé.” Rafe met you in the main room, dressed impeccably in a semi-formal suit. He wrapped an arm around your waist, kissing your forehead. Then his hand found yours, the one with his ring on it, & brought it to his lips. “Soon to be my beautiful, perfect wife.”

            You didn’t smile. Rafe feigned sadness at your expressionless face, bringing his palm to your cheek, “Did you need a glass of wine for liquid courage?”

            Clearing your throat, you shook your head. Little did you know, being with Rafe 24/7 had sobered you completely. You hadn’t touched a drop in a month, even when you had dinner with his god-awful family. You constantly told yourself that to survive this new life, you couldn’t leave yourself vulnerable. You were on edge all the time as is, alcohol would no longer be your saving grace.

            “Hmm.” Rafe smirked then removed himself from you, crossing to the end table near the front door. He grabbed a thick envelope, holding up for you, “This came earlier. From the lawyers.”

            The divorce papers.

            Rafe handed the envelope to you. You pushed back the tears threatening to fall.

            “I suppose I’ll take care of it afterwards.”

            “Take care of it now, _____.” Rafe gripped your wrist firmly, a warning. “I want to go into this engagement party with a divorced woman, not one that’s about to divorce.”

            You wanted to argue, but over the course of the last month you learned not to. Your fire had burned out, Rafe & Ward snuffed it out.

            “Of course.” You mumbled, pulling out the papers. You had never seen divorce papers in your life, never expecting to either. Holding them in your hands made your world spin.

            There were red tape marks on empty lines meant for your signature. You wanted to read through it all, take your time with it, sit on it, burn it, never let them see the light of day. But with Rafe breathing down your neck, you glanced up at him.

            “I need a pen.” Rafe swiftly produced one from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, “My pleasure.”

            He was all too pleased with himself. This child who had everything handed to him life, getting yet another want of his fulfilled.

            It took less than five minutes to sign all the empty lines. You didn’t care what Moses took. Even if he left you with anything, Rafe would never let you have it. Besides, it was always a joy of Rafe’s to remind you that you were marrying up—as far as money goes. But you didn’t care. You’d take being homeless over marrying him. Perhaps you could still run away…

            As soon as you deposited the papers back into the envelope, Rafe took it. “My dad will take care of the rest.”

            Of course he would.

            But you just gave a tight smile.

            “Now, let’s go. We’re already late & Rose hasn’t stopped texting me.”

            Rafe led you out of your house & down to the car, sure to open your door for you. To anyone else, he likely appeared as a gentleman, but if only they knew. It’s only been a month after all, but apparently your engagement led to Rafe making a 180 in his life. He was now working under his father, excited to provide for you, & only touched coke every now & then. His new addiction was you.

            After a quick ten minute drive, Rafe rolled up to the Kildare country club. Staring out the window, you felt bile rise in your throat. This would be your life now: social gatherings & ass kissing at the country club, Rose’s incessant & overbearing dinner parties, Ward’s hardened gaze never leaving you, watching your every move, & the worst of it all—Rafe being on top of you every single night. As much as you wanted to blame Rafe, Ward, Kildare, this was you who had done this. You had made the grand mistake of sleeping with the unhinged young man next door. Now, you had to live with the consequences.

            Rafe grinned proudly at you from across the room. He was surrounded by his father’s colleagues & friends, congratulating him on his engagement. You, on the other hand, were sitting at a table near the front of the room by yourself. You had exhausted yourself of social niceties & feigned excitement about your upcoming marriage. The only thing that did bring you any kind of comfort was that other people too thought it was strange that a woman your age, a well-known married woman your age, was marrying someone almost 20 years your junior, let alone a Rafe Cameron.

            One woman, a friend of Rose’s, had exclaimed, “Never thought Rafe would be the one to marry. Was sure he would be a lost cause.” Apparently, you were a savior. Or groomer depending on the whispers you heard here & there.

            Regardless, this wasn’t a place for you, the kind of people meant for you. As much as you wish Sarah had been in attendance, she was nowhere in sight. When she had sworn that you wouldn’t see her at the wedding, you didn’t know that you wouldn’t see her period. And anytime you asked about her, Rafe would give you vague responses. But even if she was there, & she could forgive you, you still would never be able to tell her the truth about Rafe, about Ward. You had lost your only friend on the island.

            So you sat alone, trying to blend in with the wall & be forgotten about. But of course, no such thing could happen for long.

            The chair next to you squeaked as it was pulled back, allowing the person joining you to sit with you. You felt your lungs close up, a typical response for whenever Ward was within ten feet of you.

            “Enjoying the celebration?” He asked, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

            You forced a smile for anyone who may be looking, but kept your voice low for only Ward, “Hardly.”

            “That’s a poor attitude to have, Mrs. McFarlane.” Ward tapped his glass, smiling knowingly to himself, “Or I suppose I should say Miss. _____, since your divorce papers came.”

            So Rafe had given the documents to Ward like he said he would. If there was one thing you learned very quickly about this family, it’s that they were efficient & effective in their controls.

            “It won’t matter what surname I take. I will always be a McFarlane.” You straightened your spine, wanting to now cower next to the patriarch of your newfound family.

            But Ward only lightly chuckled in response, “You’re a Cameron now, _____. That’s something to be proud of.”

            Images of Rafe holding you down every night flashed through your mind, your stomach whirled, panicked tears breached, “We’ll see about that.”

            He leaned forward, an arm placed along the back of your chair, his face was close to yours as he spoke, “Don’t forget about our deal. You fuck up, your husband spends his life in prison. I’ll make sure of that.”

            You turned to glare hotly at him, uncaring if anyone noticed. His face was mere inches from yours, “How could I forget when you remind me every second?”

            When Ward was close up like this, all you could see was Rafe in his eyes. You saw how the insanity gene passed down so easily like it was a dominant trait in the Cameron lineage. You were under the thumb of two men, both of whom would never let you forget how you ended up there.

            “Good.” Ward leaned back, finishing off the rest of his drink, “Now, smile. It’s the beginning of the rest of your life.”

            It was late evening, the sun had set & many of the guests to your engagement party had left. You felt safe enough to escape to a private room down the hallway. Hopefully, Rafe or Ward wouldn’t come looking for you. The room you were in was much smaller then the reception room. It had one oak end table, two white floral-patterned Victorian style loveseats, & a full length mirror in the corner. On the wall was pictures of previous brides & their bridesmaids in the same room as they got ready for the big day. Your stomach rolled. It would be you next.

            Feeling suddenly winded, you sat on one of the couches, holding your head in your hands. All you wanted was to call Moses, to tell him the truth, to take the risk. But you needed to learn to stop thinking about the what if scenarios & start remembering the threats. Moses would never be safe.

            “So this is where you ran off to.” A familiar smooth voice sounded from behind you. You rose immediately, flattening the skirt of your dress as you turned to face Rafe. His cheeks were slightly, a dead give away that he was quite drunk, & his eyes were hooded with lust as he stared at you standing there caught like a deer in headlights.

            Your internal danger alert system was going off. You began to round the couch towards the only exit that Rafe was blocking, “I just needed a breather. I’m okay now.”

            But Rafe threw out an arm to stop you when you tried to sidestep him. His eyes peered into your own, “No, you’re not. I can always tell when you’re not okay.”

            Then let me go. You wanted to say, but bit your lip instead.

            “Let me make it better.”

            When he leaned in to kiss you, you quickly turned your face, his lips landing on your cheek. Your body began to shake, knowing what was going to happen next. Rafe firmly gripped both sides of your face, forcing your head to angle towards his. Then he successfully kissed you. Your hands grasped his wrists, attempting to remove them from your face but Rafe was stronger. He was always stronger.

            Without your consent, Rafe began walking you backwards, his lips hungrily attacking yours.

            “Rafe, no.” You tried to mumble but he only smiled into the kiss, shaking his head at your weak plea.

            You felt the seat of the couch press against the backs of your knees, just before Rafe roughly pushed on your shoulders to make you sit. He was quick to follow, easily pushing you onto your back against the tight corner of the loveseat. Rafe circled your upper body with his arms, acting like a cage as you struggled against him. Your own arms reaching behind him to try & pry him off, but he was as stable as a river rock.

            “Just stay quiet & no one will get curious.” He said light-heartedly, as if he was sneaking off with a forbidden lover.

            You whined into his mouth when you felt him nestle his way in between your legs, his fingers wasting no time in finding the lining of your underwear to begin peeling them off. Panicked breaths began to leave you, trying to fight off his hands but he was entirely unperturbed by your resistance. As he always was.

            “I’ll make you feel better, baby.” Rafe breathed hotly once he finally removed your underwear.

            Tears sprang forth. Most of the time, when Rafe would have his way with you, you could manage to shut off your emotions, to let your body respond to him the way it regretfully did, but this was not one of those moments. Everything was too real. You couldn’t fake it this time.

            But Rafe didn’t care when you cried, it only spurred him on.

            Soon enough, his gentler handling of you became rougher, more impatient. You heard seams pop as he fought to bring the top of your dress down, exposing your breasts. His mouth latched onto the skin there, sucking it tediously as he reached between you two to begin unbuttoning his pants.

            Words would be wasted so you said nothing.

            His fingers found the folds of your dry pussy, but as his thumb circled your clit & his fingers teased your tight entrance, you soon began to feel yourself grow slick with unwanted desire.

            Against your control, a moan passed through your lips. Rafe leaned back just enough to smile at you, a proud look on his face, “There she is.”

            In a second, you felt a hot throbbing heat in the space between your thighs. Your fingers tangled in Rafe’s hair, hanging desperately onto him as he pushed forward with the head of his cock. You bit your lip hard, trying to hold back cries of pleasure, but Rafe reached up to pull on your lower lip, sticking his thumb into your mouth.

            “Suck.” He demanded lowly. And you did. Your lips closed around his thumb, & it was then that you tasted yourself. Rafe’s eyes darkened & with one harsh thrust, he was sheathed entirely inside you.

            You both groaned in unison. Every time it felt too big, too painful, but the flames of indulgence always took over.

            Rafe gripped one of your hips, his hand sliding to your thigh to hitch over his lower back, allowing him to go deeper. You let your head fall back, your mouth open as he began to fuck you into the couch.

            He held himself up with the other hand, his eyes roaming every inch of your body, watching it respond to his every plunge. The other hand cupped your tit, his thumb grazing your sensitive nipple, sending waves of electric fire throughout your spine. As your body shuddered to his touch, you felt your walls clench around him. A wolfish smile appeared on his face.

            “You’re mine.” He angled your face to meet his eyes. You whined in response.

            “Say it.” Rafe angled his hips just so to hit your sweet spot.

            “I’m…” But you stopped, feeling the waves coming closer, desperate for a crash.

            “You are mine.”

            Your arms, legs, your entire body clung to him as the waves crashed around you. Stars & blurred tears blanketed your vision as you climbed the highest peak. Rafe chased after you, his hand finding his favorite place at the back of your head, yanking you by your hair so he could stare at you, “Now.��

            “I’m yours.” You sighed lowly, a rogue wave crashing into you. Rafe pressed his lips to yours, his hips jerking as he came. You twitched around him, milking him as he filled you with his hot cum.

            His hips turned languid as he came down from his orgasm, his lips parted with pleasure. Finally, he collapsed onto you, your bodies molded together.

            “You will always be mine, Mrs. Cameron.”

            It was the following morning & you were greeted by horrid sight.

            Rafe stood at the foot of the bed, a paper bag from the local pharmacy in his hand. You sat up, wiping the sleep from your eyes. But your gaze never left the bag he held.

            “A gift.” He walked to your side of the bed, handing you the bag.

            You didn’t take it, only staring at him with concern.

            “C’mon, _____.” He said softly but there was a hint of a warning there. “hat are you scared of?”

            He was smirking at you coyly. Knowingly. He knew. You knew, too. But you wanted to ignore it.

            Rafe took one of your hands, opening your palm so he could empty the contents into your hand. A single pink rectangular box fell out.

            Your eyes flashed to his.

            Please, no.

            “Wh—what?” You were never a good faker.

            “You know what.” Rafe reached forward, brushing stray hairs out of your face before he gently cupped your cheek, “I was in denial, too. At first, I thought it was just the stress from all the changes: moving, divorce, wedding planning—why you were sick so often. I wanted it to be that way, too. I mean, I don’t think I’d be a good father.”

            You gulped, bile rising for the umpteenth time.

            “But then I remembered that you’ve already done this before. And then you lost it.”

            Jesse’s face flashed in your mind, smiling.

            “And I want it for you. For us. You deserve to be a mother again.”

            “No.” You choked out, covering your mouth as the contents of your stomach threatened to spill.

            “Yes, _____.” Rafe cooed, offering you a saddened smile, “And I deserve to be a father with you. A better father.”

            The jab towards Moses made you wince.

            “A better husband.”

            His fingers grazed the packaging in your hand, “Now, more than ever, I know we can be anything as long as we’re together.”

            Not parents. Your lower lip trembled.

            “Take the test.” Rafe pulled back, his soft features turning hard.

            He then grabbed your hand, pulling you as gently as possible out of bed but you knew he wanted nothing more than to yank you out & throw you into the bathroom. But he wouldn’t risk hurting you now, you knew that much.

            But when you went to close the bathroom door, he pushed it back open, leaning against the doorframe. When he noted the fearful look on her face, he sheepishly smiled, “I just can’t wait.”

            Shakily, you turned away from him, your fingers struggling as you pulled open the tabs on the box. Two tests fell out. You placed one on the counter, unwrapping the other. You felt Rafe’s eyes burning a hole in the center of your back.

            Two lines if pregnant. One line if not.

            You pulled down your pajama bottoms & sat on the toilet, letting your hair fall to block out Rafe. But you couldn’t move the hand that held the stick towards you, as if your body was locking down, resisting you entirely. Pee wouldn’t even come out of you. Your body didn’t want this. You didn’t want this.

            But then Rafe stomped forward, making you jump back when he snatched the stick from you. He kneeled, holding the stick under you just so, & the other hand gripped your shoulder. With minced words & a minced smile, Rafe eyed you, “Let me help.”

            Tears flooded you once more & your muscles relaxed out of submission. The sound of liquid trinkling against the porcelain bowl filled the room. Rafe’s eyes never left your face. When you were finished, he placed the test on the counter, his back to it with his arms crossed, staring at you.

            You couldn’t take it anymore. You spun around to land on your knees, heaving into the toilet. Everything hurt: your stomach, your head, your heart. All of the pain was flooding out of you as you puked. Once there was nothing more to give, you flushed, leaning back to wipe the spit off your lips with your mouth.

            Behind you, Rafe moved forward, his hands finding a place under either of your arms as he lifted you. He brought you to the counter, wetting your toothbrush before adding paste to it. You brushed your teeth, cowering in front of Rafe as he stood behind you, his eyes on you in the mirror. Then you took a swig of mouthwash.

            Rafe pressed his chest to your back, his arms reaching around you to hold you. To anyone else, it may look like a loving couple, excited as they waited for the results of the test, but you knew. He knew.

            His kissed the side of your head then, his hands wandering to the center of your belly. His touch was warm, but your skin was burning. You two stood just like that for some time. You had never felt more trapped. As you stood there, waiting in limbo for a result that would change the rest of your life, you then promised yourself that if one line appeared, you would run away. Or better yet… you’d find your bottles of pills & make yourself one last heavily medicated cocktail.

            Rafe let you go then, his hand reaching for the test. He brought it up closer to inspect.

            “Mrs. Rafe Cameron.” His voice sounded muffled & far away, “Take a look.”

            Looking yourself in the mirror, into the eyes of the woman you didn’t recognize, you swore to yourself then. If there wasn’t life growing inside you, you would end yours.

we are done! (well, almost). still have the epilogue to upload which will be a major time jump. so! how are we feeling?!

as always please share your thoughts, love, & support but dropping a comment, reblogging with reviews, or chatting w me via ask box. this has been my favorite series to write thus far & all i want is to talk about with you all. so please, talk to me!

thank you for reading!

oona<3

Requests are currently CLOSED.

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Trademark: Pining So Hard They Become Trees(tm)

Proud to be home to this particular trademark, my friend. Is it really pining if they aren't going so hard they can still long for each other while in each other's arms? I think no. XD

I could cite this entire chapter of Cantata for Pining So Hard They Become Trees, but I'll keep it to this bit, which is one of my favorites: ~

In the silence of space, the ‘Yang skips through firing lanes close enough to stick a knife in the enemy’s gut, the knife in this case being the GARDIAN lasers chewing away armor plating and shearing apart small enemy fighters that stray too close.

Ship-to-ship combat is an attrition of heat and numbers, and Kaidan has no control over any of it.

Not the moments of vertigo as the inertia dampeners temper the ‘Yang’s maneuvering burns, the intermittent shudder as the weapons systems find a target, not the slow, steady buildup of waste heat that will eventually force them to flee or cook within their own hull.

And not Shepard. The entire covert operation will play out on helmet cams and comm channels, with Kaidan as a witness. Shepard is nothing more than a pinprick of warmth, lost in the rage of heat playing out on sensors. Kaidan glues his eyes to that pinprick, heart in his throat as he waits to see if the Cannae’s GARDIAN lasers detect the infiltration team hidden in the heat signatures of the battle playing out around them.

It’s not until Shepard’s grav boots connect with the Cannae’s hull that the white drains from Kaidan’s knuckles.

But now that they’ve reached the target, there’s a new fear. Pendergrass hovers over Kaidan’s shoulder, chewing a hangnail as the N team hunts for explosives along the hijacked ship’s hull, because its captors would rather slag the whole thing than see it taken back.

Shepard finds the first bomb.

Pendergrass stops chewing and reviews the scans, walking Shepard through diffusing it, and every other one they find, while Kaidan listens in helpless silence until he’s forced to take another breath.

The comms erupt with gunfire when they breach the hull. Kaidan fixes his gaze on Shepard’s helmet cam, the visual slightly out of sync with the audio feed. They had no way to know how many enemies would be waiting on board, but four N6s led by the galaxy’s first N7 don’t give a shit about the odds. Somewhere in the mix Anderson manages to shut off the gravity, taking the linear firefight into multiple planes.

It’s like freeing a predator from a cage. Shepard’s helmet cam spins with dizzying swiftness as he kicks off walls, floor and ceiling ceasing to have meaning in zero G. His shotgun barks over the comm, tendrils of blue flickering around the edges of the camera lens, but this far away Kaidan’s gravity well remains silent and still.

A ragged cheer raises the rafters on the ‘Yang as the lead ship of the ragtag flotilla goes up. Kaidan presses a finger against his ear to ward off the sound, concentrating instead on the helmet cam and looking for any change in Shepard’s biofeeds.

The N team reaches the CIC. A lieutenant named Angevin goes down when they trigger an explosive while breaching the door, but not Shepard, it’s not Shepard, because there he is on Anderson’s helmet cam, blowing in like a tempest and executing three people, including their leader, without uttering a word. Minutes later, the stolen ship’s transponder changes back to an Alliance signature and the cheering begins anew.

Half the crew waits at the ‘Yang’s airlock to greet the N team when they return, Kaidan among them, swallowing back his relief like it’s a living, breathing thing. He gets lost in the shuffle when the airlock opens and the yelling starts, but Shepard’s gaze cuts through the crowd, and he parts it like Moses and the Red Sea. With a grin on his face that could shake the stars, he throws an armored arm around Kaidan and hugs him tight, thunking an energetic palm against his shoulder. Kaidan returns it just as fierce, the plating stiff and sterile against him.

“Did you see that?” Shepard exclaims when they part, elation on his face, hand still on Kaidan’s shoulder, biotic field humming with kinetic energy. This is Shepard in his element, Shepard at his best. The impossible means nothing to him.

Kaidan grins back. “Yeah, I saw it.”

How can I look away when it’s you?

[helpmeimblorboing]

Small Writing Thing :3

The raven-haired man stepped forward, and like Moses parting the Red Sea, the horde of shades seemed to part before his steps, every milky, insipid eye in the audience turning to linger on him

Beside him, Percy stiffened slightly, the ubiquitous chill of the Underworld raking across his back like lashes from a frozen whip, ice-cold and splinter-sharp

Nico cleared his throat, and the noise resounded across the black plains of his father’s domain like a gunshot. The milling shades stilled, and went quiet, an eerie, unnatural silence, like the entire world was holding his breath, waiting for the Ghost King to begin speaking

“I am aware”, he hissed, his tongue flickering against the edges of his teeth, the sound susurrating through the shades like a breeze through the branches of a particularly crowded tree, “ that some of you seem to consider my lover lesser than me. Seem to think that just because he is not a child of Hades, you have the right to mistreat him”

The shades stiffened as one as his sharp gaze raked across them like the skittering of a thousand insects, like worms squirming across the greeting flesh of their corpses, high above on the surface

“Rid yourself of this notion”, his lip pulled back into a sneer, his teeth baring in an animal snarl. The shades shivered, though most of them weren’t even sure why, “This man”, he reached over to rest his hand on Percy’s shoulder, “is as much your prince as I am”

“This man”, he began again, emboldened by Percy’s eyes on him, widened minutely with mild surprise and more than a bit of admiration, “is as much ME as I am !! More, even !! This man, too, is the Ghost King. This man, too, is Nico Di Angelo !!”

“And this man !!”, he beat his fisted hand against his chest, the sound resounding out into the silence like a drumbeat, “Is Perseus Jackson !! Understand ?!!”

Not a soul dared to stir. Percy leaned into Nico’s touch, the corners of his eyes softening with something resembling love

Nico fought down the blush threatening to blaze its way across his features. That wasn’t intimidating at all, and he NEEDED to look intimidating right now

“And you will obey him”, his voice dropped to a chilly, sibilant register, the slow hiss of a rattlesnake ready to strike, “or I will make Tartarus look like Elysium. Am I understood ?”

The shades drew in a sharp, unnecessary breath, like a collective gasp of surprise. Surprise at the thought that their Prince had fallen in love

And with a surface-dweller, at that ? Truly, he was his father’s son

And then, all at once, their voice came, from throats pierced and choked and frostbitten and waterlogged. From voices thin and loud and boisterous and reedy

“We will obey”

The corner of Nico’s lips twitched into the faintest ghost of a smile, “Good”

Percy leaned closer to him as his shades dispersed, his breath ghosting across Nico’s earlobe, leaving a trail of burning warmth in its wake.

Nico turned slightly towards his boyfriend - and even thinking that word made the smile he shot him come out slightly giddy with excited joy

“Well, well, well, Mr. Ghost Prince”, Percy teased, his voice lilting a bit as he spoke, though the fond smile playing at his lips betrayed his true emotions, “Quoting Alexander the Great now, are we ? Gonna try to conquer the world next ?”

Nico shot his lover a small smile, one that made Percy feel almost lightheaded with adoration, “Not like I could fuck it up more than it already has been, right ?”

“Yeah”, Percy rested his head on his beloved’:s shoulders, and felt the gentle coolness of Nico’s skin start to ward away the unnatural frost of the Underworld. His breath quickened slightly as he continued, “I’d like that”

“Hm ?”

“ A world ruled by you. You’d do a better job than the current heads, that’s for sure”

“Do you WANT to be blown up, Percy ?”, Nico shot him an amused look, “In case you forgot, we’re in a domain ruled by one of those heads”

“ Well, maybe if I die, you could order me around”, he hummed lightly, “That’d be nice”

Nico just stared for a long moment, before whining slightly, “ And people call ME morbid ?”

[racefortheironthrone]

Who do you consider to have been some of the most important / formative mayors of New York?

This is a great question, and actually rather difficult to answer, because for the longest time both Tammany Hall and the Whig/Republican machine tended to prefer mayors who were dull but reliable non-entities. Starting in 1824, NYC was divided into wards that elected Aldermen and Assistant Aldermen to the Board of Aldermen and the Board of Assistants, who together made up the bicameral Common Council. This led to a system whereby the real political action was shunted to the local level, where the ward's Aldermen and the ward boss (and his precinct bosses) ran the show.

The downfall of Boss Tweed led to some reforms, with the bicameral Common Council replaced by a unicameral Board of Aldermen who were elected from larger State Senate districts or at-large, as part of the Whig Party's drive to dilute the power of Tammany's Irish Catholic voting base. This would change somewhat when the five boroughs were consolidated into Greater New York in 1898, which added the borough presidents and the Board of Estimate into the mix, and then again in 1901 and so forth.

However, the overall trend was a weak mayor system where real political power was fairly evenly distributed between aldermen (who were not only the city's legislatures but were also represented on the Board of Estimate through their President), the borough presidents, the mayor, and the comptroller.

So the major players in NYC politics tended not to be mayors:

Dewitt Clinton was incredibly transformational, but despite serving three terms as mayor his real mark on New York was as governor where he was the driving force behind the construction of the Erie Canal.

Andrew Haswell Green, the "Father of Greater New York," was responsible for the creation of Central Park, the New York Public Library, the Bronx Zoo, The Museum of Natural History, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Riverside, Morningside, and Fort Washington Parks, Columbus Circle, and the consolidation of Greater New York - but he never served as mayor. The original Robert Moses, Green's political power came from his leadership of the Central Park Commission, the Greater New York Commission, a six-year stint in the Comptroller's office, and his position on a number of NGOs.

But if we're talking transformative mayors, there is one name that rises above all the rest: Fiorello goddamn LaGuardia.

There had been other reform mayors before him - Seth Low had established the Civil Service, John P. Mitchel brought scientific management to city government - but none of them had ever been able to get re-elected. Unlike the wealthy WASP reformers, LaGuardia knew how to beat Tammany at the ethnic politics game. Tammany's strength had always been in the Irish wards of the city, and while they had tried to divide-and-rule by promoting the naturalization of Russian and Polish Jews in return for them voting for Irish-American politicians in the Lower East Side while noticably neglecting the naturalization of Italians, the emergence of second-generation Jewish and Italian voters meant that this strategy had run its course.

Born to a Sephardic mother from Trieste and a lapsed Catholic father from southern Italy, Fiorello had an astonishing knack for transcending ethnic political boundaries in New York City - he spoke Italian, German, Yiddish, and Croatian, but he was also a progressive Republican and Episcopalian (which meant he could speak middle-class WASP too). LaGuardia won the 1933 mayoral election by bringing together a Fusion coalition that brought middle class German-American Republicans together with Italians and Jews, a coalition that he would expand in 1936 by bringing socialists, unions, and black voters together into the American Labor Party.

Over his twelve years as Mayor, LaGuardia was almost pathologically active (in a way that's oddly reminiscent of Henry II), transforming almost every aspect of New York City:

Jobs for the Unemployed:

LaGuardia's immediate mission as mayor was to fight the Great Depression that had had left a third of the City unemployed. He did this by forming an enduring alliance with FDR in which the New Deal would provide NYC with unpredecented level of federal support in exchange for NYC becoming the New Deal's model city - the first of the "Little New Deals." In his first hundred days in office, LaGuardia convinced FDR to give New York City a full 20% of the Civil Works Administration's work relief budget. This put 200,000 New Yorkers back to work - and this would only be the beginning of New York City's experiments with direct job creation.

As part of Fiorello LaGuardia's "Little New Deal," LaGuardia's new Parks Department employed 70,000 workers - paid for by CWA and later WPA money - to rebuild New York City's parks, constructing the Central Park Zoo and 60 playgrounds in the first year.

When the New Deal created the Works Progress Administration in 1935, LaGuardia once again lobbied FDR to put NYC first in line. This culminated in some 700,000 New Yorkers - a tenth of the city's entire population - getting jobs through the WPA and other New Deal programs. Together with the Parks Department, LaGuardia and Robert Moses would mobilize this workforce to completely transform the city.

Public Works:

This is where we have to discuss Fiorello LaGuardia's fateful decision to make Robert Moses his master builder. While Moses was in the process of becoming the "Power Broker" before LaGuardia - he had already been made president of the Long Island State Park Commission and chairman of the New York State Council of Parks - LaGuardia enabled his ascent to the heights of power by making him Parks Commissioner, Commissioner and then Chairman of the Triborough Bridge Authority, Commissioner of the NYC Planning Commission, and Chairman of the Emergency Public Works Commission.

The pact between them was simple: LaGuardia would give Moses the public appointments he needed to consolidate public works across the city and would steer New Deal public works money through Moses' agencies, and in exchange Moses would be LaGuardia's master builder with a mandate to "build it quickly and build it well." This was not an easy task, because Robert Moses was a political enemy of FDR and FDR tried to bar him from being given any WPA or PWA funding, but the mayor was able to persuade Roosevelt that it was more important that LaGuardia's proposed $1 billion public works program for NYC be carried at speed and administered efficiently.

As LaGuardia's workhorse, Moses would oversee almost all of NYC's public works, including the West Side Highway, the future FDR Drive, the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, the Triborough Bridge, the LaGuardia and future JFK Airports, and Jones Beach Park, among others. LaGuardia would also construct the Sixth Avenue Subway line, the Queens-Midtown Tunnel and the Lincoln Tunnel without Moses (who was completely uninterested in mass transit and who always preferred bridges to tunnels).

In addition to these major projects, LaGuardia with and without Moses built the city's first municipal power plants, 37 sewage treatment plants, 9 fire houses, 142 elementary schools and 22 high schools, half of NYC's then-23 municipal hospitals, eight District Health Centers to provide preventative, specialized, and public health immunization care, and the first 14 of the City's public housing projects.

City Government:

To dismantle Tammany's patronage system, he began to massively expand the civil service to eliminate patronage jobs, and then when Tammany beat him on a government reform bill in 1934, he simply kept pushing. He pushed through the LaGuardia Reform Charter of 1938 that abolished the Tammany-dominated Board of Aldermen and replaced it with a City Council elected by Single Transferrable Vote, established the Board of Estimate as a central administrative body with powers over the city budget, public contracts, franchises, and land use - crippling Tammany's ability to raise money through graft and kickbacks.

To transform New York City into a "strong mayor" model, he undertook a campaign of transforming independent agencies scattered across the five boroughs into a system of unified citywide departments or public authorities that answered directly to the mayor and gave him unprecedented state capacity. In 1934, he formed the Parks Department and the New York City Housing Authority; in 1936 he formed the Department of Buildings and the City Planning Commission; in 1938, he restructured the Department of Welfare to run the city's social welfare programs and a massively expanded public hospital system; in 1940, he took over the IRT (operating the 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6), and the BMT and IND (operating the A, B, C, D, E, F, G, J, L, M, N, Q, R, W, and Z lines), unifying the NYC subway system for the first time.

To deal with police corruption, LaGuardia appointed Lewis Valentine to purge the NYPD so that the mayor could use it (and Thomas Dewey) in a crusade against the mafia's gambling, racketeering, and vice operations. This marked a rare period of honesty and effectiveness in the NYPD, although after WWII the system of protection rackets and mafia corruption would eventually re-establish itself.

Ironically, this exhaustive list of accomplishments really made it hard for later mayors to distinguish themselves, because mostly their task was completing, managing, or mis-managing the system that LaGuardia had built. After LaGuardia I would say that Robert Wagner Jr. (established public sector collective bargaining, created CUNY, Lincoln Center, Shakespeare in the Park, and dealt the killing blow to Tammany) and John Lindsay (see my previous post, but chiefly scatter-site housing, the civilian complaint review board, and the Knapp Commission on police corruption) are on my list of formative mayors.

After them, there have been long-serving mayors and good mayors, but unfortunately not the two combined.

[thesillyphilly]

Announcement for the swap au. I might delete any art that had shown the old designs and lore that has changed unless that lore stayed the same. When i made the au, i had nothing in mind and it was rushed kinda.

The new lore for this swap:

When we think of a swap au, we just think the roles were reversed. The seeds deputies and the deputies taking the role as the seeds, but i wanted to change that and have more of a horror sacrifice type- which the game is kinda scary if you think of it from the residents pov. All the shit they have to go through.

In this au, i call "we meet once again" follows Joseph seed and his daughter, hope and the story of what his wife left behind. Hang with me. We don't know much about Joseph's wife, faith but she plays an important part even if dead. Back to the story, the seed family past is also different from canon as they still suffered abuse but instead of being split up, CPS send them all to a family that would or lived in hope country. Jacob still went to the military, but instead of being lost he was captured and held hostage along with his group and miller. They were found months later but only half, the others were dead. Miller was dead. He goes back home after two years of rebuilding hisself to only meet john and no Joseph.

Back with John and Joseph, the trauma from their dad was still affecting john and lead him into a lot of unhealthy habits to "help" deal with it. Joseph loved his brother but a part of him felt that he needed to be... free. So, he left. After putting john in a a psych ward (we are going to pretend that hope country has one. Okay? Okay.) John had spent a couple of months there before he was some what stable but now, he didn't have anyone waiting for him as Joseph left. He needed a job which landed him in spread eagle when mary may was just ten and when the cult showed up. John and mary, unlike canon, grew a niece and uncle relationship as while mary parents were defending falls end, john tried to cover that up for mary as no kid should worry about something bad happening to them or love ones. Of course, you can't stop everything.

The cult seem normal enough with the want to help those in need, confessing your sins, and praying to god. God's faith was the name and the leader, moses witb the lords, pratt, Hudson, bruke, larry, and Maria. But not all sins can be forgiven. Those sins had people killed. Bad people. Well deserved but people weren't all so happy with the fact they killed people or they were cause they were free from those monsters. A snow came but never left, this helped the cult as house were either deep in snow or they didn't have enough food. Now, it was join and be reborn in the eyes of god or die by the snow or the lord hands. Each lord had a way of making you new. I'll explain in a different post

When Joseph left, he started new. I don't have much till he meets his wife and the accident happens. He doesn't hear a voice from "god" when he sees his daughter unlike canon where he does. He names her hope and raises her to be strong, caring, and to never let anything or anyone stop her from doing what is right. He is aslo a camping dad- look at his designs and tell me otherwise. When hope is around her teen years, Joseph goes back to his home place unaware of the cult and snow. The exits and entrance aren't blocked and snow has been cleared of those ways so it wasn't hard to get in... the problem will be getting out. Joseph stays in his adopted dad's house with his daughter, by now only hope's grandma was around and she was so happy to see her granddaughter. The next day, Joseph takes hooe to see uncle john as his mum told him where he is but john wasn't there and wouldn't be there for another hour. Hope was playing outside when a group of cult members saw her and believed the day finally came. They tried to take her before Joseph intervened saying that's his daughter and one say, "it's the father, bring him too" before one uses the back of a gun to knock him out. When he awakes, he is chained to the floor of the church Joseph in, in the game, with the lords around him and moses at the stand.

Their hope has came and Faith's loved one was here, their family was completely.

[eddiegettingshot]

okay, throwing my own unhinged theory out there (based on some bts photos i vaguely remember and my wish for bobbyeddie parallels etc) eddie has his good old catholic guilt freak out (think glee's cheesus), decides to spend 40 days and nights in the desert because (vaguely gestures at bible references i'm too lazy to look up, but moses got the 10 commandments and the whole venomous serpent healing thing and also jesus with his confronting evil/the devil in the desert stuff) he feels like he needs to confront his trauma, chris becomes buck's temporary ward and the diaz parents come to fight him on it.

then we have bobby going oh no, eddie, not the catholic guilt and goes after him. eddie gets bitten by a venomous snake and bobbie comes to save him in the nick of time (it's what bobby gets the commendation for at the fire house). while eddie is suffering from the side effects of the snake venom he has a ghost shannon hallucination telling him to let her go and move on. when he wakes up in hospital marisol is there and angry about not being chris' temporary guardian and also telling him to repent and the the venomous snake was a sign from god to tell him not to stray from the straight (haha) and narrow and is pretty homophobic about it buck's place in chris's life and all. eddie breaks up with her. she goes back to being a nun since she's only in love with jesus after all.

i am. in tears. help me

[reasoningdaily]

Futureland - Walter Mosley

Futureland - Walter Mosley

Projecting a near-future United States in which justice is blind in at least one eye and the ranks of the disenchanted have swollen to dangerous levels, Mosely offers nine interconnected stories whose characters appear and reappear in each others' lives. For all its denizens, from technocrats to terrorists, celebs to crooks, "Futureland" is an all-American nightmare just waiting to happen.

Nine interconnected short stories capture the high-tech world of the United States in the near future, capturing the lives and fates of such characters as Ptolemy Bent, a child genius whose merciful actions land him in a privatized prison, and Fera Jones, a heavyweight boxing champ who abandons the ring for a political career. 75,000 first printing.

Editorial Reviews

Amazon.com Review

Futureland is bestselling mystery author Walter Mosley's first science fiction book since Blue Light, a New York Times Notable Book of the Year. Futureland's nine linked stories will provide an accessible and intelligent introduction to written science fiction for mystery or mainstream fiction fans who do not normally read the genre.

Experienced science fiction readers, however, may be less than satisfied with Futureland. Reading it, you might decide Mr. Mosley grew up reading SF, respects the genre, and still watches SF movies, but has read little SF written during or after the New Wave of the 1960s. However, something more may be going on here than a genre newcomer making beginning-SF-writer mistakes. Mr. Mosley may be deliberately, and craftily, creating SF accessible to his large non-SF readership and to others who are strangers to this genre.

Some have labeled Futureland cyberpunk, and it does present a dark, infotech-saturated, corporation-controlled future; but it is in fact an inversion of cyberpunk. Instead of that subgenre's cliche of cool, cutting-edge, street-smart, but not very believable outlaws who out-hack and outwit powerful multinational corporations, this Dante-esque collection presents outlaws and outcasts who may be street-wise, but who have little chance of overcoming the corporations and governments that control, and sometimes take, their lives. Like shockingly few other SF works, Futureland directly examines the lives of the working and the nonworking classes, the poor and the marginalized, the criminal and the criminalized. In other words, Futureland is set in a world quite alien to many veteran SF readers, and is therefore a book they should try. --Cynthia Ward

From Publishers Weekly

After the qualified success of his first science fiction novel, Blue Light (1998), Mosley (best known for such mystery fiction as the Easy Rawlins series) returns with nine linked short stories set in a grim, cyberpunkish near-future. Unfortunately, heavy-handed plotting and unconvincing extrapolation weaken the collection's earnest social message. "Whispers in the Dark" introduces prodigy Ptolemy Bent, who will grow to be the smartest man in the world in spite of his poverty-ridden childhood. Ptolemy reappears in "Doctor Kismet" as an adviser to assassins trying to kill the richest, most corrupt man in the world and as the brains behind a series of global plots to overthrow the status quo in "En Masse" and "The Nig in Me." Champion boxer and much-hyped female role model Fera Jones steps away from the ring to take hands-on responsibility for the influence she wields in "The Greatest." With its easily befuddled talking computer justice system, "Little Brother" is more Star Trek than high-tech cyberpunk. In more familiar territory for Mosley, PI Folio Johnson investigates a series of murders linked to Doctor Kismet in "The Electric Eye." Although packaged as SF, this book is likely to disappoint readers of that genre who've already seen Mosley's themes of racial and economic rebellion more convincingly handled by authors like Octavia Butler. Mystery fans, on the other hand, are far more likely to embrace this latest example of Mosley's SF vision, with its comfortably familiar noirish tone and characters, than they did Blue Light. (Nov. 12)Forecast: With a five-city author tour and national print advertising, both mainstream and genre, this title book should be slated for solid sales.

Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information, Inc.

From Library Journal

Mosley's first foray into writing science fiction since Blue Light (LJ 10/1/98), these interrelated stories, set in the near future, read as a natural but chilling extension of our present. From child genius Ptolemy Bent, sentenced to prison for euthanizing his grandmother and uncle, to female boxer Fera, who becomes a feminist icon for the 21st century, his characters battle for both personal survival and a chance to turn back the clock. In this futuristic world, privacy is little but a memory and prejudice and suspicion still sour race relations. Mosley's reputation as the best-selling author of the Easy Rawlins mysteries may entice a number of his regular readers to pick up this book, where they will find some of the same bleak outlook, flashes of insight, and true-to-life African American characters. An additional audience will come from iPublish.com, where the first two stories were previously published as e-books. Recommended for all public libraries. - Rachel Singer Gordon, Franklin Park P.L., IL Copyright 2001 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From Booklist

Mystery star Mosley tries his hand at science fiction again, to better effect than in the novel Blue Light (1998). For these nine interconnected stories, he conjures a mid-twenty-first-century world in which one company is the most powerful force in the world and political correctness is the law. The only significant revolutionaries are black, and blacks and whites are still highly antagonistic. All Mosley's good guys are black, including the smartest man in the world, imprisoned for assisting the deaths of his ailing grandmother and uncle; the world's heavyweight boxing champ--a six-foot-nine-inch woman who goes into politics after KO'ing the male heavyweight champ in less than a minute of round one; a private dick who solves cases with the help of a greatly enhanced artificial eye; and a regular-joe worker who becomes the reader's eyewitness to the dawn of a new world when a backfiring biological weapon kills everyone who isn't at least 12.5 percent black. Lest that last bit of business seem too black-triumphalist, the worker-hero quickly discovers that intraspecies predation hasn't vanished. Ably slinging the technobabble to explain the odd wonder-gadget in his tales, and greasing them with plenty of "oh-baby" sex, Mosley creates sf in which Shaft and Superfly would feel at home. Can ya dig it? Ray Olson Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

About the Author

Walter Mosley is the author of the New York Times bestselling Easy Rawlins novels. He lives in New York City.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

A Medieval Christmas

By Mark Cartwright

1 December 2018

Christmas was one of the highlights of the medieval calendar not only for the rich but also for the peasantry.

For the longest holiday of the year, typically the full twelve days of Christmas, people stopped work, homes were decorated and a Yule log burned in the hearth.

Gifts were exchanged, colourful church services enjoyed, and merry feasts were eaten by all where there was better food and more of it than at any other time in the year.

There were plenty of songs, dancing, pantomimes, and games, too. For many, just as today, Christmas was the best of times.

The European medieval calendar was not short of holidays: each season had its own special Christian celebration, often based on older pagan traditions.

Medieval holidays were a chance to have a much-needed rest from the usual daily toil and to socialise at family meals where the typical dreary menu of the poor was replaced by such rarities as meat and fish, and the table of the rich was adorned with exotica like roast peacock.

Christmas was the longest holiday of the year by far and lasted from the night of Christmas Eve, the 24th of December, to the Twelfth Day, Epiphany, on the 6th of January.

Mid-winter was a time of year, which saw a lull in agricultural activity, and consequently, many peasants were permitted by their lord to have the entire two weeks off.

The season also involved gift-giving and decorating the home with garlands and wreaths of winter foliage.

As one description of 12th-century CE London by William Fitzstephen records:

"Every man's house, as also their parish churches, was decked with holly, ivy, bay and whatsoever the season of the year afforded to be green."

(quoted in Gies, 100)

Holly, with its glossy dark green leaves and bright red berries, has been considered the ideal winter decoration since antiquity.

Ancient Celtic druids thought it sacred and able to ward off evil spirits, while the Romans used it as a gift to show esteem and goodwill.

Mistletoe is another long-used decoration, which ancient people thought a bringer of fertility, protector of crops, and something that kept away witches.

Long before the Christmas tree took centre stage in the 19th century CE, a double ring of mistletoe was the centrepiece of many a home's decorations, under which couples could kiss, removing the jewel-like berries with each peck.

Over time, the traditional church services for major Christian holidays became more elaborate and Christmas was no exception.

The Church at Christmas

Naturally, in the very religious communities of medieval times, the local church was a focal point for the Christmas celebrations and services were well-attended by all classes.

One development from around the 9th century CE was 'troping,' which was to add extra dialogues and songs to the service.

An example of troping in the Christmas celebration was an elaboration on the question, which choirs sang:

Quem quaertitis in praesepe? ('Whom do you seek in the manger?').

One half of the choir would sing the line and then the other half did.

This eventually led to a dramatisation using individual speakers and actors, which resulted in the presentation of nativity plays with the Magi and King Herod playing prominent roles.

Another play that became popular in church services of the festive period was The Prophets in which a priest conducted a dialogue with various prophets such as Jeremiah, Daniel, and Moses.

Choir boys played dressed up bit-parts like a donkey or devil.

The Feast of the Holy Innocents (Childermas) on 28th of December commemorated King Herod's failed attempt to murder the infant Jesus by ordering the execution of all children in Bethlehem under two years of age.

The church on this day, perhaps bizarrely considering the gravity of the occasion, indulged in a bit of traditional festive role-reversal with choirboys taking the place of the bishop and other higher clergy to conduct services and even to lead a torchlit procession.

The celebration of the Feast of the Circumcision, held on the 1st of January, was even more outlandish, which perhaps explains its other name of the 'Feast of Fools.'

Minor clergy would wear their clothes inside out and lead an ass into church where, upon arrival at the altar, they would burn incense made from old shoes, eat sausages, drink wine and make the sounds of a donkey.

The local clergy, if not invited to their nearest lord's castle, celebrated with a fine meal of rarities at home.

Larks, ducks, and salmon could appear on the menu, or perhaps a kid. We know one abbot of Ramsey Abbey in England reserved for himself a wild boar each Christmas dinner.

Even monks had a treat or two at Christmas. The diet of those in medieval monasteries was quite good anyway but Christmas feasts included more meat and fish than usual.

We also know that at monasteries such as at Cluny Abbey in France, the monks received a new gown and had one of their twice-yearly baths at Christmas (any more was not permitted).

Christmas in a Manor

Amongst the landed aristocracy, comfortable in their castles and manors, Christmas gifts such as fine clothes and jewellery to wear for the season were exchanged on the 25th of December.

There was another round of gift-giving on the 1st of January, too. Known as 'first-gifts,' they were thought to be an omen of a person's fortune in the coming year.

Much like today, though, the real joy of Christmas for many was the food on offer.

Usually held in the Great Hall of a castle or manor, the setting for the Christmas meal for the aristocracy was suitably splendid with high wood-beam ceilings and at least one roaring fire.

The hall was made even more impressive with festive garlands of holly, ivy and other seasonal greenery.

The tables were set with the usual knives, spoons and a thick slab of one-day-old bread (a trencher or manchet) to be used by way of a plate for meat.

Christmas diners were also treated to the luxury of a change of tablecloth after each course.

Two diners shared a bowl for washing hands (everything except liquids was eaten with the fingers), another bowl for soups and stews, and a small bowl of salt.

Served as an early lunch, the first course was typically a soup, broth or weak stew with some meat at the bottom.

The second course might be a vegetable stew (porray) of leeks and onions.

The rich were fortunate enough to have meat as their next course on ordinary days – rabbit, hare and chicken, for example – but Christmas saw finer meat delicacies, fish (e.g. salmon, herring and trout) and seafood (e.g. eels, oysters and crab) courses presented to the guests.

Meats were roasted on a spit over an open fire. Besides legs of beef and mutton, there was veal, venison, goose, capon, suckling pig, duck, plover, lark and crane, to name a few.

A special Christmas dish the cooks might prepare to wow the guests included a boar's head on a platter or a swan or peacock roasted in its feathers.

Sauces added more flavour to many dishes and, thickened with breadcrumbs, they contained wine or vinegar, and herbs and spices.

Dessert consisted of thick fruit custards, pastries, nuts, cheese and luxury fruits like oranges, figs and dates.

There were also entremets – various decorated nibbles glazed with sugar and honey – which were served before the dessert course at Christmas and other feasts.

For drinks, there's red and white wine (from a cup shared with one's dining partner), which was drunk young as it had a short shelf-life.

Wine was often mixed with water or sweetened with honey or sugar.

Alternatives were cider and ale, although the latter, made from grains and fermented with yeast, was considered a lower class drink.

Beer made using hops would only appear in the late Middle Ages. Dessert might be accompanied by a jug of spiced wine.

While all this feasting was going in the Great Hall, the servants of a castle were not forgotten as traditionally they were given better food at Christmas such as geese and hens.

Finally, the leftovers of the feast were taken outside to the waiting poor.

The manor dining table might have had some surprising guests as serfs on the castle's estate did get to live it up a little at Christmas when, by tradition, they were invited to the manor on Christmas day for a meal.

On some estates, the invitations were restricted to just two lucky recipients.

Traditionally, one of the poorest and one of the wealthiest peasants who could also invite two friends along.

Unfortunately, most peasants invited to their local lord's abode had to bring along their own plates and firewood, and of course, all the food had been produced by themselves anyway.

However, they did get free ale and it was at least a chance to see how the other half lived and relieve the dreariness of a country winter.

A Peasant Christmas

A peasant's Christmas was obviously rather less grand than that enjoyed in the local manor or castle, and for them, the season did not start well.

Serfs, already subjected to all manner of odd fees over the year, were expected to give a 'gift' to their lord at Christmas of extra bread, eggs, and perhaps, even a valuable rooster or a couple of hens.

In contrast, free labourers on the estate, especially the more important ones such as the estate's shepherd, swineherd and oxherd, received presents from the lord, typically a bonus of food, drink, clothes and firewood.

It is a tradition, which continued into later centuries, when household servants received a box of gifts on the 26th of December, hence the name of that day in Britain: Boxing Day.

Children's gifts from their humble parents included such simple toys as spinning tops, whistles, stilts, marbles, dolls, and figures made from wood or clay.

Peasants would have decorated their homes much as aristocrats did, with greenery such as holly being readily available for those who searched for it.

An old, possibly pagan tradition persisted, which was the burning of a Yule log.

Actually, a sizeable piece of tree trunk, the log was lit on Christmas Eve in homes of all kind and kept burning for the twelve days of Christmas.

For the special meals of the holiday, peasants ate that rare delicacy of – usually boiled – meat, treated themselves to cheese and eggs, ate cakes and drank ale.

There was certainly lots — the brew typically made by peasant women.

The 1st of January was important as people hoped for better fortune in the coming year.

A superstition developed, like the gifts the rich exchanged on this day, that it was terribly important who the first person to visit one's home was on New Year's Day.

Called 'first-footing,' certain characteristics were considered desirable in this first visitor: a male with a dark complexion, perhaps fair-haired and, best of all, with flat feet.

Christmas Entertainment

There were all kinds of entertainments on offer over the Christmas period.

Drinking alcohol was the most popular of all. The fact that merry-making could easily get out of hand is attested by the common custom of lords paying special watchmen to guard their estates in case of riots.

A record from an estate near Saint Paul's Cathedral in London tells us that watchmen were set from Christmas Day to Twelfth Night.

These men were recompensed by 'a good fire in the hall, one white loaf, one cooked dish, and a gallon of ale [per day]' (quoted in Gies, 208).

Even if drinking such large quantities was relatively common and the ale weak, with four and a half litres of ale per watchman, it is a wonder they themselves did not get a bit rowdy.

More genteel festive entertainment included monks touring and performing plays in private residences, which told key episodes from the Bible, especially, of course, seasonal topics such as the Massacre of the Innocents by Herod.

Similarly, in cities, medieval guilds put on public pageants where wagons went through the streets carrying people dressed as personalities from the Bible's Christmas story.

Troupes of masked pantomime artists known as mummers went through the streets, too, accompanied by bands of musicians.

Sometimes numbering over 100 revellers, they dressed in outlandish costumes as lords, cardinals and knights, and even ventured into people's homes to dance and play dice.

Receiving food and drink in return for their entertainment, mummers often performed short plays with scenes from familiar legends such as Saint George and the dragon.

There were games like cards and dice (which included a bit of gambling) and board games such as chess, checkers, backgammon and Nine Men's Morris.

Traditional Christmas games included the 'king of the bean,' which permitted the person who found a hidden bean in the bread or a special cake to be 'king' or 'queen' of the feast.

That honoured person then had the right to lord it over everyone else who often had to mimic whatever action the king or queen did at the table.

The game was traditionally played on Twelfth Night and was an example of the tried-and-tested role-reversal hilarity, which went back to Rome's pagan December festival of Saturnalia.

Christmas meals were followed by more drinking of wine or beer, singing of songs, including carols, and group dancing to music from pipes, flutes, lutes and drums.

Professional acrobats and jongleurs (minstrels) performed their tricks and witty verses.

Folktales were told, embellished and re-told every year, puppet shows were put on, and people played parlour games, many of which survive today such as blind man's buff and prisoner's base.

Another such game involved one member of the party being dressed as a saint while everyone else had to make them an offering (no doubt, an amusing one), which they had to do without smiling and resisting the antics of the saint or else they themselves became the saint.

Another game was 'The King Who Does Not Lie' when the 'king of the feast' might ask a question to any guest who, if they answered truthfully, could ask a question in return.

Such games were, of course, a chance to show one's wit and skill at wordplay, to embarrass a friend or to find out a sweetheart's inclinations.

For the more energetic, there were sports such as feats of strength, archery, wrestling, bowling, hockey, and medieval football where the goal was to move the ball to a predetermined destination and there were few, if any, rules.

Sliding on frozen lakes was a popular activity in winter, too.

Alternatively, by strapping the shin bones of a horse to the feet and grabbing a pole for propulsion, the courageous could try ice skating.

The End of the Holiday

Christmas through the ages has witnessed festive fun and frolics, and so, inevitably, the return to ordinary working life must have been something of a shock in the medieval period after this longest of holidays.

However, even then peasants made a celebratory game of the proceedings by, for example, holding a plough race at sunrise on the first Monday after Epiphany, known as Plough Monday.

There was another tradition, perhaps again to lighten the burden of returning to the daily toil, on 7th January, also known as Saint Distaff's Day.

This day was “a day of carnival, an occasion for 'misrule,' for 'comic battles between the sexes' in which men set fire to women's flax and women made sure men got soaked” (Leyser, 225).

[jacobsneed]

What Art Motif is your OC?

Thank you, @deputyash for the tag to do this quiz 💙

going with my far cry and gta ocs for this (´・ω・`)

tagging @poisonedtruth@river-ward@socially-awkward-skeleton@perhapsrampancy@voidika@fly-amanitaa@trench-rot@aceghosts@detectivelokis@adelaidedrubman@g0dspeeed@josephslittledeputy@josephseedismyfather@strafethesesinners@v0idbuggy@schoute@clonesupport@clicheantagonist@sstewyhosseini@theelderhazelnut@cassietrn@ri-a-rose@henbased@inafieldofdaisies@florbelles and anyone else that wants to do this quiz! 💙

snowy towns

you have the ability to see the greatness in the mundane, and it's beautiful. you would just like to live your life, and love all its things. art reference: it snows oh it snows by grandma moses

dappled sunlight

you see all the beautiful things in life. you're always looking to learn and be better, especially from the world around you. thank you for believing so strongly in goodness. art reference: woodland glade by david poulter

hands

is your love language touch? i suppose it might not be, but i also suppose you might just like being held. you might see the art in human bodies. art reference: loneliness of night by kaye donachie

hands

is your love language touch? i suppose it might not be, but i also suppose you might just like being held. you might see the art in human bodies. art reference: loneliness of night by kaye donachie

burning houses

your heart flies wild and free. you have the mind of an artist, spilling with ideas and dreams. art reference: burning house by lois dodd

blood in religious depictions

you think in violence, but not necessarily antagonism or hatred. it is more just in the physicality, the vulnerability of it all. art reference: prometheus bound by peter paul rubens

dappled sunlight

you see all the beautiful things in life. you're always looking to learn and be better, especially from the world around you. thank you for believing so strongly in goodness. art reference: woodland glade by david poulter