#or a sort of 'technically legal but good luck finding a judge to sign it'

[korpuskat]

I am not sure if omnics and humans can actually get married, but I like to think that Ramattra would want to make you his partner «officially». Maybe without the wedding, the papers etc, he would just silently kneel and slip a ring on your finger that he (of course) made himself, just for you. Oh, that’s why he was touching, holding, squeezing your hands more often lately - he was trying to figure out your size, you think. Later on you would notice little engraving on his finger, imitating the ring that humans wear and robots don’t. You are a family.

HIM SIZING YOUR RING HIMSELF...... ENGRAVING A RING ON HIS OWN HAND AAAAAAAAAH?????????????????

What I love so much about Ramattra is that... I think fairly soon after he acknowledges his feelings for you is he would realize you are everything. He's all or nothing, if you crack that shell you are a part of him and he would know so, so early on that you are reshaping his future just by existing... and as such he will have been thinking about this for so long, debating what he could do that wouldn't endanger you or himself, but something that was... meaningful.

[daydream-believin]

The Never Ending Roadtrip (tie the knot)

summary: (part 1) / (part 8)  fem!reader joins Douxie on his quest for Nari’s safety, he’ll need company wont he? PART 7) two weddings in one day for our lovely wizard couple.

warning: swearing, maybe? prolly tho, alcohol, the us government

word count: 3149

a/n: the target audience here is def me. ahahjdd i hurt myself writing this, bon appetit

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Y/n let her eyes wander through the strange place. She supposed this was a pawn shop of sorts, but not one a mortal would patron. Or even know about. She wasn’t entirely sure how she got there herself. This was technically a basement. Grungy, yet somehow fancy? There was sand on the floor, and a giant floor to ceiling glass pane that made up an entire wall, letting patrons know they were in the bottom of the river Cohansey. Which would be beautiful, had this not been New Jersey. The water was murky, trash floating by with the occasional fish. Big, slimy green fish that looked like they could swallow an old lady’s chihuahua. Or maybe a toddler. There were shelves and shelves of either the shittiest junk you ever saw or things that looked like they belonged in an Egyptian tomb. Best not to touch anything. Y/n couldn’t clearly remember the entrance to this place, or entering, but that must have been a part of the concealment magic in place.

Douxie wasn’t kidding when he said they’d sign the papers tomorrow. He found himself acting fast, in case she changed her mind. She wouldn’t, of course. But just in case. While it would seem rushed to any outsiders, it didn’t feel so to him. Might as well have taken an eternity. A millennium. He had known her for years, was her best friend for years, he knew everything about her. She knew everything about him. It became much more apparent when suddenly she had the skill to do nothing but look at him and know something was amiss. Despite his best poker face he’d developed over the centuries, capable of fooling even the most observant of company. Not her. He had hoped she felt as strongly towards him as he her. He still had his insecurities and doubts, even if these rings could prove it.

He paid no mind to the big slimy green fish that flashed their large teeth to patrons. Douxie dug through the box of loose rings, looking for something specific, surely. Different enchantments, different curses, different styles, he needed to find the perfect pair. The sound of metal clattering was starting to become grating to the other patrons of the pawn shop. It was way too early for such clanging. Sure, it was afternoon, but still. Douxie had already found one for him, he just needed to dig around a little bit longer to find one for Y/n. He had already found several that could work, a bronze one shaped like tree branches around an emerald stone, a dainty silver braided band to bind, and an amethyst solitaire with calming qualities. None of these were right. Perhaps settling wouldn- Eureka, there it was. A nice gold band, the mate to the silver toned one for him, engraved with the matching runes, protection for them as they were together.

Douxie happily purchased the rings from the man behind the glass counter, to the relief of the other patrons. He found Y/n locked in a staring contest with one of those toothy fish. He pulled her away, assuring her that Fish don’t have eyelids, Love. Strange, she could have sworn that one did. He opened his palm, showing her the rings. She squealed, to the annoyance of the other patrons. They needed to get out of her before someone kicked them out.

They didn’t have to spend anything on dress/tux rentals, all thanks to Hisirdoux brand magic clothes. Y/n did manage to squeeze Archie into a little bowtie, much to the dragon-cat’s dismay. Y/n made sure to get a snapshot of it for archie_the_emo_kitty. Unlike Archibald, Nari was more than willing to boast formal wear. With all those wedding dresses she’d looked at with Y/n in mind, she begged Douxie to give her a little poufy green dress. Doux snuck in some smoky quartz as beading. Just a little extra protection never hurts. She was a very happy forest child, and spent a lot of time spinning around and around, fascinated by how the fabric flounced. She was very eager to do her part once Y/n explained to her what a flower girl was. Nari was going to be the best girl of flowers. Flowers grew from her hair.

The bowtie wrestled around Archie’s little neck matched the one around Douxie’s. Archie was technically the best man, of course. Some might think having a cat as your best man a bit sad, but there was no truer friend than Archie. And while Archie made them believe he was disgruntled at his state, this was only to preserve his pride. He would do anything if to make his brother, his familiar, smile. Even wearing a stupid blue bowtie and standing next to him during some sort of ceremony. Archie had to admit, he was surprised. Well, not surprised about them marrying, just that it was happening so soon. He knew his wizard’s heart could get ahead of him sometimes, so what was really surprising was learning that miss L/n proposed it. Perhaps those two were more alike than he knew.

Douxie looked really good in his suit, Y/n thought. Of course, anyone looks good in one, but Douxie looked extra good. Very handsome. It wasn’t a tuxedo, but he still opted for black with a little blue embroidery, and of course the blue bowtie. Very classic Douxie. Y/n wouldn’t have it any other way. He tried slicking back his hair but Y/n stopped him. No need to hide that perfect fringe, thank you. She braided a few of the strands down the side of it but not enough to obstruct it. There, that was good enough. Different but still the classic Douxie look. He laughed as she fussed with it. Some wildflowers he and Y/n picked earlier that morning were pinned to his lapel.

Y/n held a bunch of the same wildflowers in her hands. Not exactly a bouquet, but enough. She and Doux had woven some of them into crowns for each other to wear, respectively, for the day. It was a trollish tradition she thought was adorable. Picking the flowers together, weaving them into headpieces for the other to wear, a sort of unity thing. How beautiful.

Y/n actually made her own dress without Douxie’s help, as seeing the bride in her dress before the wedding was bad luck, after all. Douxie had taught her the spell, and she had been practicing an awful lot. It wasn’t perfect, but it did turn out to be exactly what she wanted. Y/n ran her hands down her sides, Not too frilly, not too sexy. Soft, sweet and romantic. And her. It looked like her. She hoped Doux would like it. He did.

She left her hair down. Douxie had made a comment once, way back when, that he thought it looked beautiful loose. She hadn’t meant for him to see it then. Douxie liking it was hard for fathom, considering her aunt had drilled into her head that loose hair was for loose minds, silly people not to be taken seriously. One’s hair should only be down when bathing or changing, especially not around others. In a way, leaving her hair loose like this was an expression of intimacy.

While they went to sign the papers officially in the eyes of the US government, the real wedding was out in the forest, with the trolls. Still, they figured they should tie their legal identities together, it’s not like a troll can actually officiate. Despite their legal identities being temporary and they would definitely have to forge new documents in half a century, they needed this for taxes and all that jazz. Y/n was going to make Douxie combine their bank accounts eventually. An efficient end to their ‘no, let me pay’ fights. But now wasn’t the time for finances. This was about love. And despite this not being the real wedding, Y/n still felt giddy.

The air in the courthouse smelled like dust and tobacco, and it felt like vague memories of confusion and bureaucracy. Strange memories, yet somehow nostalgic. At first the employees weren’t going to let Archie into the building, but once Douxie picked him up and showed him off, explaining that he was the best man, they couldn’t help but let him and his little bowtie in. That’s the thing about being cute, you often get away with murder.

Standing in front of the judge was daunting, even though Douxie knew he did nothing wrong. This time. He was just here to sign that marriage license. What a wonderful piece of paper, covered in calligraphy, stating that he legally belonged to Y/n and Y/n legally belonged to him. Such a fragile thing, in his hands. He would preserve it. Save it for centuries. The witness was a stranger, but that didn’t matter. Archie was the real witness, but alas cats have no power in court. Y/n blushed under Douxie’s gaze as they signed their names to the document. She looked ethereal in that dress, with the flowers in her hair. Even thought they were in a stuffy courtroom with people paying for traffic tickets, she was a goddess, standing here next to him, signing her soul to him. He would return the gesture with his whole chest. And he did.

They slipped the rings onto each other’s fingers, and it was done. Douxie looked back into Y/n’s eyes. His wife’s eyes. His heart may have stopped with that thought. His wife’s eyes.

Y/n was vibrating with energy as they left the courthouse. It was infectious, and soon Douxie was bouncing on his toes too. They couldn’t help but keep smiling. This was just the beginning. Time for the ceremony. Well, at least neither of them had to worry about cold feet. Y/n squeezed Douxie’s hand three times as they set off for the forest. He returned the gesture, kissing the top of her head for good measure.

Once they arrived at the shaded area the trolls had gathered in, Y/n sucked in a breath. It was just, so lovely. They were sitting in a circle, the center being where the wedding couple were to stand. Wildflowers decorated the ground. Nari had made sure they were arranged nicely. While Y/n didn’t know all of these trolls, she was delighted that most of her old pals were here. A few weren’t, but only because they hadn’t made it through the eternal night a few months ago. Surely their spirits were here. The atmosphere felt too much like love and support for them to not be. One of the trolls was strumming a lute of some sort. There was a baby troll who looked like they must have been carried here while they were napping and was now bewildered as to what was going on. Douxie may not know many of the trolls himself, but their presence felt right. And it made Y/n happy. A perfectly good reason for anything nowadays.

Y/n hooked her arm through Douxie’s as he led her to the center of the circle. The gentle lute music played as they kneeled, ready to begin. The music stopped and the officiant started. The officiant was an older troll, who could’ve rivaled Vendel in terms of ancientness. Neither Douxie nor Y/n payed him much attention, locked in each other’s gazes as he read off the sacred trollish wedding texts. A breeze blew through, blowing their hair, and a strand stayed in Y/n’s eyes even after it stopped. Douxie gently brushed it away, and was so caught up in the tender action he almost missed the officiant ask him to join his hand with Y/n’s.

“We are gathered here to witness the binding of two souls. Do you, Hisirdoux Casperan, and you, Y/n L/n, come here of your own free will, to be bound to each other in life and love for the rest of eternity?”

“Aye” Douxie and Y/n offered in unison.

“Then it shall be done.” The officiant tied the handfasting ribbon around their joined hands. A golden light shone through the ribbon, a little bit of magic.

Douxie placed his free hand under Y/n’s jaw. “You are the blood of my blood and the bone of my bone. I give you my body, and I give you my spirit. May you always drink from my cup. May I always be by your side through life and though that which comes after.” I will protect you always My Love.

Y/n was somehow able to catch her breath long enough to repeat the words back to him. “You are the blood of my blood and the bone of my bone. I give you my body, and I give you my spirit. May you always drink from my cup. May I always be by your side through life and though that which comes after.” You’ll never be lonely again Dewdrop.

“May the union now be sealed” Douxie and Y/n took this as a ‘you may now kiss the bride’ as trolls don’t kiss. Y/n was pretty sure trolls touched foreheads instead, as she’d seen Blinky and Arrgh do that often. She did as such to Douxie before kissing him. It slightly confused him, but he still recognized the affection.

There was no one there but them. Douxie deepened the kiss, melting into his beloved, his wife. Y/n matched it with fervor, but pulled away just as fast, almost making him whine. He opened his eyes, getting ready to pout, but was knocked back into remembering where he was. Oh, yeah, there actually were other people. His bad.

As the sun went down and the reception started, many trolls said many things and yet Douxie had no idea what was being said. He found it very hard to focus on anything that was not Y/n in this moment. A celebration was being had, yet the only important thing was the hand clasped in his and the cool feeling of metal he would soon get used to. He couldn’t wait to get used to it, as if it were nothing but a part of his skin. He could vaguely make out what song the lute troll was currently playing, one that reminded him of his younger years, and boy, did he feel young next to Y/n.

He led her into a dance, as this was a song perfect for dancing, of course. Y/n laughed. She hadn’t expected their first dance to start so soon. The light of the setting sun cast an orange glow as they flitted around joyously. At the end of the song, Douxie lifted Y/n and spun her around. A few nearby trolls, already drunk on bright green grog, raised their mugs and gave a cheer. A toast, one supposes. Y/n giggled at how quickly Douxie put her down after that, face flushed.

The red, orange, and yellow leaves of the trees around them seemed to be amplified by the sunset. It was one of the most beautiful things Y/n had seen, and perfect ambience for the best day of her life. The sound of the lute songs, birds chirping, and trolls chattering was the sound track. She’d play it on repeat if she could. She could feel Douxie’s shoulder brushing hers, and smell the comforting scent of cloves that clung to him. With every peck she could taste the red wine on his lips.

Now that the sun had gone down, magic candles were lit throughout, lighting the festivities. The trolls took this as the signal to bring out the food and start the feast. And feast they did. Nari was very interested in their food, and while Y/n wasn’t very positive she should let the veggie lady eat half of whatever this stuff was, Y/n didn’t care to police her this day. Nari can suffer the consequences of her curiosity for once. Y/n was too busy being wrapped up in Doux.

There was a very tall cake, resting on a flat rock. Must be one of Jim’s recipes he taught them while he was with them. Or it was a traditional troll recipe. No matter, wizard digestive systems are pretty strong and stranger things had been eaten. It was decorated beautifully, with the wildflowers and florets of what was either icing or plaster. Either way it would be delicious, whether it be made with flour and spices or gypsum and cat blood. Whatever it was, it smelled heavenly as Y/n smashed it into Douxie’s pretty face.

He should have been expecting that. He had hoped she’d be sweet and gently feed him but he supposed the temptation was too great for his mischievous bride. A cheshire cat grin replaced his adoring expression as he grabbed a glob himself and smeared it across her features in retaliation. Y/n burst out laughing, grabbing him by the collar to kiss him and get them even more messy. Douxie’s lips tasted sweet, so it must be one of Jim’s icing recipes. Archie was glad he over by the rock and not next to them, in the splatter zone.

The dancing lasted all night. The candles, the full moon, and the stars cast a romantic glow to the celebration. The full moon was the perfect moon, a blessing for their big day. Douxie was very thankful for lute troll, this is exactly what he pictured his wedding sounding like when he was a boy. He twirled Y/n around effortlessly and endlessly, he wasn’t sure he’d ever tire of this. Her soft hands in his, he absolutely knew he’d never tire of. The trolls taught them a few of their traditional dances too, Y/n seemed to really have fun with those. At one point, Y/n danced with Nari, a cheerful little ditty, and Douxie thought it was the new most adorable thing he’s ever seen. It was cuteness overload, he may have to go sit down for a bit and let his heart catch up with him. However, It wasn’t long before Y/n pulled him back onto the dance floor once again.

After the feast was devoured, conversation lulled, and the music faded, the trolls packed up and headed back to trollmarket. The light of the candles was getting dim. Still, Douxie and Y/n stayed, swaying in each other’s arms. The music may have left, but they didn’t need it. They hummed to each other as Douxie leaned over to Y/n’s ear, to sing her a song he had written for her, not too long ago. She could feel his breath on the shell of her ear as he whispered the words meant just for her. Y/n let her eyes slip closed as this man, her husband, sang his heart to her in this private moment. She wished she had a poem prepared for him. Sure, she’d written plenty, but none of the words seemed quite strong enough anymore.

[sorawcreative]

Ona Judge Staines: She Challenged George Washington and Won Her Freedom

The following text from : http://www.theroot.com/ona-judge-staines-she-challenged-george-washington-and-1790854513

Written by Steven J. Niven

A plaque depicting Ona Judge Staines on the wall of the President’s House in Philadelphia Courtesy of lwf.4pha.com

On May 24, 1796, a runaway-slave advertisement was posted in the Pennsylvania Gazette by the steward at George Washington’s house in Philadelphia. It read:

Absconded from the household of the President of the United States, ONEY JUDGE, a light mulatto girl, much freckled, with very black eyes and bushy hair. She is of middle stature, slender, and delicately formed, about 20 years of age. She has many changes of good clothes, of all sorts, but they are not sufficiently recollected to be described—As there was no suspicion of her going off, nor no provocation to do so, it is not easy to conjecture whither she has gone, or fully, what her design is; but as she may attempt to escape by water, all masters of vessels are cautioned against admitting her into them, although it is probable she will attempt to pass for a free woman, and has, it is said, wherewithal to pay her passage. Ten dollars will be paid to any person who will bring her home, if taken in the city, or on board any vessel in the harbour;—and a reasonable additional sum if apprehended at, and brought from a greater distance, and in proportion to the distance.

Oney, as she was known to George and Martha Washington, was one of nine enslaved African Americans who served in the President’s House in Philadelphia from 1790 to 1796. Judge was the only slave who escaped from the Philadelphia Executive Mansion, although Hercules, the president’s famed chef, made an even more daring escape on Feb. 22, 1797, the president’s 65th birthday, from the Washington plantation at Mount Vernon, Va. There is no record of Hercules after his escape, but a fairly strong paper trail enables us to piece together the fate of Ona Judge, in part because of the Washingtons’ strenuous, but ultimately unsuccessful, efforts to reclaim her.

A Taste of Freedom in Philadelphia

Ona Maria Judge was born around 1774 at Mount Vernon. Her mother, Betty, was recognized as the finest seamstress on the plantation and was a “dower slave,” technically still owned by the estate of Martha Washington’s first husband, Daniel Peake Custis. Ona’s father was an English indentured servant who had worked at Mount Vernon.

Since a slave’s status followed the mother’s line, Ona was born enslaved, as was her older half brother, Austin, who had a different father and would later serve Washington as a stable hand at the Philadelphia President’s House. From an early age, Ona would have performed whatever domestic labors were required of her at Mount Vernon. By the age of 10, she began attending Martha Washington. Her main work involved sewing and making clothes; Gen. Washington praised her as a “perfect mistress of the needle.”

George Washington was elected the first president of the United States in 1789, and in 1790, when the capital moved to Philadelphia, Ona traveled with the family to their official residence. She served as the main personal attendant to the first lady, and her tasks would have included dressing and powdering her mistress, accompanying her to official receptions and other public and social duties, and being ready, at all times, to meet Martha Washington’s needs. It was important to the first family, too, that Ona was herself always seen to be impeccably well-groomed and clothed in public.

Ona, Austin and Hercules were allowed to attend a circus, the theater and other public events on their own. They also interacted with Philadelphia’s increasingly assertive free black community, which had grown from only 240 in 1780 to 1,849 in 1790 and would exceed 6,000 by 1800. She had arrived in Philadelphia just as the Free African Society and the first independent black churches were being established, and it is likely that she was inspired by the example of Absalom Jones, Richard Allen and other African-American founders. In addition, white refugees from the Haitian revolution were given refuge in the city after 1793, many of them bringing their slaves.  By 1796, over 450 Haitians had claimed their freedom under a Pennsylvania state law that enabled them to do so after a full six months’ residency.  

Ona Judge Plots Her Escape

The Washington slaves knew that the president had taken precautions to prevent them from taking advantage of this law. His plan was to send them back to Virginia before they completed six months’ residence, then return them to the Philadelphia for another period of service. Washington informed his secretary about this scheme, stating his “wish to have it accomplished under pretext that may deceive both them [the slaves] and the Public.” One historian has suggested this was “perhaps the only documented incident of George Washington telling a lie.” The primary reason for this subterfuge was financial: Ona and all but two of the Mount Vernon slaves in Philadelphia were Custis dower slaves. If they gained their freedom under this law, Washington not only would lose their labor but also would have to personally reimburse the Custis estate for their loss under his supervision.

In the spring of 1796, Washington entered the final year of his second term in office, and the staff were informed they would be returning to Mount Vernon for good that summer. The first lady, now in her mid-60s, also told Ona Judge around this time that she was to be bequeathed to a Custis family granddaughter back in Virginia, a prospect Judge dreaded, since she despised her intended new owner. Realizing that the relative freedom she had enjoyed in Philadelphia would soon become a memory, Judge carefully planned her escape.

As she recalled 50 years later, the entire household was preparing to leave for Virginia, and so it was not seen as suspicious when she began packing the “many changes of good clothes, of all sorts” mentioned in the runaway ad. Assisted by acquaintances in Philadelphia’s free black community, she stored her belongings at a friend’s house and found a merchant sloop, the Nancy, that would transport her to Portsmouth, N.H. Judge made her way to the Nancy one evening in late May while the first family was at dinner. By the time they learned of her escape, Judge had arrived in Portsmouth. She was not legally free and was at risk of recapture under the federal Fugitive Slave Law—which Washington had signed in 1793—but for the first time in her life, she was free of the demands of Martha Washington.

The First Family’s Desperate Search

The Washingtons were shocked, and the Gazette advertisement suggests that they initially had no idea why she had fled. Martha Washington, in particular, took Judge’s flight badly, viewing it as ingratitude and as a personal slight, and came to believe that Judge was pregnant and had been seduced by a mentally unstable Frenchman. At least, that is the story that George Washington used in his efforts behind the scenes to recapture her. Certainly there were many Frenchmen and French- and Kreyòl-speaking Haitians in Philadelphia, but there is no evidence that Judge had relations with any of them.

In late August, however, Judge’s luck ran out. The daughter of Sen. John Langdon, a close friend of the Washingtons and a frequent visitor to the Executive Mansion, came upon her on a Portsmouth street and expressed surprise that she was not attending the first lady. President Washington was soon apprised of the situation and immediately ordered Oliver Wolcott, the secretary of the treasury, to engage the Portsmouth collector of customs to retrieve her.

That action was illegal by the terms of Washington’s own Fugitive Slave Law, which required a slaveholder to use the federal courts. Washington was aware, though, that a public attempt to openly return a possibly pregnant slave to bondage would be bad publicity and might even provoke a riot. The Portsmouth collector initially agreed to comply with the request from his commander in chief, who warned him to act cautiously so as not to alarm Judge’s alleged French seducer. Judge herself, in Washington’s view, was “simple and inoffensive.”

But the collector came to quite a different conclusion about her motives once he interviewed her. She convinced him that there was no seducer, French or otherwise, and that a “thirst for compleat freedom” had been her only motivation. He reported that Judge, though, might be amenable to returning to Mount Vernon if the Washingtons promised to emancipate her upon Martha Washington’s death.

George Washington was livid, replying that, “To enter into such a compromise with her, as she suggested to you, is totally inadmissible,” since it would reward her unfaithfulness and set a bad example to his other “more deserving” slaves. The president also continued to insist on his story of a French seducer, although he may have finally abandoned that idea when informed of Judge’s plans to marry a local free black sailor, John Staines. The couple married in January 1797 and had a daughter a year later.  

Finally Free

Until recently, most Washington biographers believed that at this point George Washington abandoned his efforts to regain Judge. Perhaps the president had given up hope, but his wife had not. In July 1799, Martha Washington made one more attempt to kidnap Judge through a family member who traveled to Portsmouth, but the plot was thwarted when Sen. Langdon heard of it. Langdon was appalled and warned Judge, who managed to find refuge with another free black family several miles away in the town of Greenland.

Following Gen. Washington’s death at the end of 1799, and Martha Washington’s three years later, Ona Judge Staines was finally able to enjoy her freedom—although she and her children remained fugitive slaves according to the law. She worked for a while as a house servant and had three children with John Staines: Eliza, William and Nancy. Judge Staines was widowed in 1803, and 17 years later her son, William, left for sea, never to return. Her daughters died in the early 1830s, and Judge Staines lived her final years in Greenland as a pauper.

Brief interviews by abolitionists in 1845 and 1846, when she was in her 70s, provide the only direct record of her thoughts and actions. She stated that she had received no formal education or religious training while enslaved and criticized the Washingtons for not properly observing the Sabbath. Asked if she regretted leaving the relative comforts she had enjoyed for a life of poverty, Ona Judge Staines insisted that she had made the right choice, having learned to read and write in freedom, and having been made a “child of God” by that means.

On Feb. 25, 2008, 160 years after her death, Philadelphia Mayor Michael Nutter declared the first “Oney Judge Day.” Since 2010, her defiance of the president and the first lady and her remarkable escape can be explored at the historic site located on the grounds where the President’s House—and his slave quarters—once stood.