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cookinupculture · 2 years

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Traditions my family has held onto from Poland and What we have since lost..

I am a mixture of nationalities, and that has always felt kind of disappointing for me growing up, especially when a holiday or special occasion would come around and my family I felt would be really lacking what I saw many of my friends families having, traditions, and connections to their nationality and home country. I grew up knowing I was at least a mixture of polish, Irish, German do by, French, French Canadian, and native American. I traced back my genealogy and also found some Scottish and English. My father’s father’s side of the family can be traced back to the first colonies in the United States, no joke. But on my father’s mother’s side, we are close to entirely polish. And this made Easter dinner very special to me. Yes it was a very watered down, Americanized version of Polish Easter, but it was something! Of course there is more to the festivities than the food, but I would like to stay on topic, and for this post, keep the discussion to the traditions surrounding food.

Chronologically, the first food-centric Polish Easter traditions occur prior to Easter Sunday. On Saturday, the night before Easter Sunday, Święconka, meaning "the blessing of the Easter baskets is traditionally celebrated. Where many Polish immigrants and the generations that followed proudly continued this tradition, my family did not. This tradition consists of attending Saturday night mass the night before Easter, and taking a basket containing the food that is to be served for Easter to be blessed by the priest.. Typical contents of the basket include butter, Easter bread, horseradish, eggs, sausage ham, salt, cheese, candles, and colorful ribbons. Each food represents a different blessing. Example: eggs for new life, and candles for light in the world.

The tradition of coloring Easter eggs is similar to the practice we know today, but the Polish tradition is far more intricate. Known as “pisanki”, the tradition is conducted by coloring eggs in natural dyes and adding intricately detailed designs are using paint, wax, etching with needles, or even paper or flowers petals. These eggs are traditionally given tto friends and family for Easter, so at times the eggs are made out of Wood for longer lasting gifts. In my family, we opted to practice a modified version of pisanki. Instead of the premade kits sold commercially, we stuck to the methods used by our grandmother’s grandmother using natural dyes including beets, and drawing on the eggs with wax before dipping the eggs into the dye, so the design would be visible after taking them out of the coloring.

The centerpiece of our Easter Sunday feast is the traditional Easter lamb. In Poland these are made from Sugar, but somewhere in time this became a lamb made out of butter by the Polish immigrants in the U.S. This was a staple of Easter Sunday growing up.

Our Easter feast itself was sort of a modified version of the traditional Polish Easter feast. I believe that this is largely because in Poland years ago, this was a feast for the entire day. Serves following Sunday morning mass, this feast lasted through all three meals of the day. Many Polish descendants in the US today, including mine, serve one meal, Easter dinner.

Traditional Polish Easter food includes ham, classic kiełbasa, white kiełbasa (made of unsmoked pork meat), pate, horseradish and Zurek (Polish soup made of fermented rye flour, coming with hard boiled eggs and sausage), Śledź ( herring), and eggs with salmon roe or caviar. Desserts were plentiful, and features the likes of Mazurek cake, babka, and cheesecake. To name a few. On our table every Easter I could look forward to the ham, rye bread, eggs sauerkraut, and kielbasa as was tradition, as well as other Polish classics like pierogi and golmbki. The dessert was a new tradition added by my great uncle Paul. This was also my favorite part of the meal. He taught the kids and had us assist in the dessert making. Every year we made honey baklava. I hope this tradition is carried as far as the traditions carries from Poland to our table every Easter!

Works Cited Alberti, K. (2017, April 10). The curious transformation of Polish easter in the US & UK. Culture.pl. Retrieved September 22, 2022, from https://culture.pl/en/article/the-curious-transformation-of-polish-easter-in-the-us-uk

Jones , M. (2014, April 7). 10 traditional dishes of Polish Easter. Culture.pl. Retrieved September 22, 2022, from https://culture.pl/en/article/10-traditional-dishes-of-polish-easter

No Last name provided , Elizabeth. 9 Polish Easter Traditions. Key to Poland. Retrieved September 22, 2022, from https://keytopoland.com/post/9-polish-easter-traditions

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songsandremembrances · 7 months

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Episode 5

I've often heard that the Russian language, when spoken, is harsh, guttural, and fierce. I think those who hold this opinion have not heard actual Russian. Maybe they've heard villains, soldiers, or border guards in movies barking orders or shouting or issuing commands and threats. But they've never heard whispered conversations, or poetry, or this song.

youtube

This version has lyrics included on the screen, so I won't write them here. The song, with its lovely, haunting melody, is an ode to evenings in Moscow. You don't have to understand the words to feel the emotion. And you don't have to be from Moscow to know the longing and love for home that this song evokes.

My dad used to sing and hum all kinds of songs, some of which I knew and some that I didn't. This one featured often in his repertoire, usually in the evening, after dinner.

Let's talk about dinner. Let's talk about Russian food, in general. Russia, or the Soviet Union, as it was called then, is a collection of peoples, with their own culinary traditions and a rich variety of food. Ukrainian and Russian foods tend to have many similarities, as do foods native to Belarus. That's because Russia, to a great extent, adopted foods from those areas. Other parts of the Soviet Union, such as Armenia, Georgia, Azerbaijan, and Uzbekistan, have culinary traditions that are firmly rooted in the Middle East and Central Asia. So, you get wonderful lamb kabobs or stuffed grape leaves, the way my Armenian uncle George used to make them, or amazing Georgian dumplings, formed to look like little drawstring purses and filled with all kinds of delicious meats and veggies.

In my family, we mostly stuck with the basics of meat and potatoes with the occasional side dish thrown in. Soup was almost always the first course, anything from basic chicken soup, to borscht (beet soup), to cabbage soup, to a barley and pickle soup (don't knock it 'till you've tried it; it's delicious!). In warmer weather the soups were cold -- cold borscht with sour cream or a sorrel soup with fresh cucumbers and hard boiled eggs. That last one was my favorite. Sorrel is a spinach-like leafy green that has a tart flavor, which, when added to chicken broth, flavors the entire soup with a fresh tanginess.

Main dishes were typically stewed beef or chicken with potatoes or noodles. I've never really cared much about the protein part. But potatoes and noodles are a different story! Potatoes could be stewed, pan fried, mashed, or simply boiled and served with fresh dill and butter. And noodles, boiled and then pan fried until the bottom turned crisp! Don't even get me started!

Vegetables were more rare. For one thing, they weren't always available in grocery stores. You could normally get carrots and maybe onions, but other vegetables were harder to find. When my parents did acquire veggies or fresh fruit, they almost never ate them. These were for the children, who needed the vitamins! Adults made do without.

But there were almost always mushrooms! Added to soup, fried with potatoes and onions, or pickled, they made up a substantial, and delicious, part of our culinary tradition, especially in the summer. That's when, out in the Russian countryside, we would forage for fresh white mushrooms and the more elusive "lisichky", Russian for "little foxes," the ones known in the West as chanterelles. Tiny and hard to find, they were fun to look for among the ferns and mosses of the forest.

Belye, or white, mushrooms are also known as King mushrooms, and with good reason. These are easier to find among the trees, as some of them can get huge! We would go out for hours, hunting these giants, and any other edible mushroom we could find, bringing back baskets full of edible goodness to be fried, pickled, or dried for later use.

My mom did make one veggie-based dish fairly often. It's called Tzimmes, an abomination made with carrots and prunes.

Not a traditional Russian dish, it's actually served on Jewish holidays, but living in the Soviet Union, we wouldn't have known that. No matter. I hated the stuff. Mushy carrots and slimy prunes! No thanks!

During family gatherings there were also "Zakuski," hot and cold hors d'oeuvres, that included red salmon roe on toast, sliced smoked salmon, cold potato salad, beet salad with garlic, a variety of pickled and fermented veggies, and kholodets! That last one is the Russian version of aspic, or jellied broth, made with with eggs, meat, or whatever else you can find, and served cold. You're welcome!

#russian food #soup #zakuski #reading #memoir #dinner #Youtube #mushrooms #evenings #music #food #traditions #foraging

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takemeawaytocamelot · 7 years

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Bashful Beauchamp - Teenage AU

Finally! We got to see Jamie over for dinner with Claire and Lambert. Now we get to see Claire meeting the Fraser clan! How will she do? Will they treat her kindly? Read on to find out!

Shout out to @diversemediums for helping me edit this and @outlandishchridhe for helping me with a new title!

Catch up on Jamie’s dinner in Flustered Fraser

Jamie had worn his kilt when he’d come to dinner with me and my uncle. Now it’s my turn to impress his family. So I’m standing in front of my wardrobe, trying to decide what a sensible English girl would wear. Uncle Lamb is in the living room, waiting for me to dress so we can leave.

I have my red dress, a black dress, and a blue dress all laid out on my small bed.

“Uncle Lamb!” I cry, my voice sounding frantic to my own ears.

After a moment, I hear him come down the hall to my room. He knocks and walks in.

“What is it, Claire Bear?”

“I’m having a girl moment,” I tell him. “I don’t know what to wear!”

Uncle Lamb takes a long, deep breath and looks at what I have.

“Wear the blue one.”

“Should I put on makeup?”

“No, darling,” he says with a soft smile. “Your Scot likes you the way you are.”

I nod and put the other dresses away.

“Thanks Uncle Lamb.”

“Your parents would be proud of you.”

I stare at him in shock. He never talks about my parents and I rarely ask. It’s still painful for both of us.

“You think so?”

“Maybe not proud of you getting caught snogging in the cupboard, but yes. Your Scot seems to be a very kind young man.”

“Thanks,” I say softly, trying to keep from crying.

I’m not wearing makeup, but crying will flush my face and my nose will start running.

Lamb leaves and I dress quickly. I decide to pin my hair back, but leave most of it down. I’ll keep it from falling in front of my face, but the curl was too nice to hide away. I grab my coat and walk out to where Lamb waits. We follow the directions Jamie texted me until we reach Lallybroch, the Fraser estate.

It’s a cute house, I think, and it looks old. But it’s a fully functional farm and it looks well used. Jamie is waiting for me on the front steps, which he descends when he sees us pull up.

“Ye made it! I was worriet,” he says, beaming at me.

“We did. Uncle Lamb only had to turn around once.”

We stare at each other awkwardly before Lamb clears his throat.

“Aye! Sorry. Would ye like to come in for a moment, Mr. Lamb?”

“If it isn’t too much trouble. I won’t stay long,” he says when I give him a pleading look. “But I’d like to meet your parents.”

Jamie hops nimbly up the stairs and holds the door open. As I walk past him, he grabs my hand and squeezes it briefly before leading us further into the house. His home is incredible. Everything looks like it belongs in a museum, but it’s all obviously in use.

“My God!” Lamb squeaks behind me. “Is that an eighteenth century pistol?”

“Aye,” Jamie says. “We’ve kept a few artifacts o’er the years. Perhaps ye and Miss Beauchamp should come back out here and let Da show ye around. He loves to talk about the Fraser history.”

Uncle Lamb stares longingly at the pistol before getting a hold of himself.

“Perhaps we shall.”

Jamie stops by a doorway and motions us inside.

“I’ll introduce ye to Mam and go find Da.”

I come around the corner and see exactly where Jamie gets his looks. The woman, who’s pregnant belly is huge, is a mirror image of him. She struggles a little to sit up and Jamie rushes to her side.

“Careful, Mam. Ye’ve yer appointment in a few days.”

“I ken that, love. But I need to get a good look at this lass ye canna stop talkin’ about.”

The tips of Jamie’s ears turn deep red and he hastily looks at the floor.

“Mam, this is Claire Beauchamp and her Uncle Lambert. Miss Beauchamp, Mr. Lambert, this is my mother, Ellen Fraser.”

Ellen puts her hand out to shake and, after a moment, Lamb steps forward to greet her.

“Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Fraser.”

“I’m sorry I canna get up just now. Gettin’ down the stairs is hard enough and Brian, my husband, would be verra cross wi’ me if I strained myself.”

“Of course, of course.”

Ellen’s beautiful eyes turn to me.

“Come here into light, love. Let me see ye.”

I do as she asks and she smiles.

“I think Jamie’s got the right of it,” she says sweetly. “You are verra beautiful indeed. Just as he described.”

“Mam!”

“Hush, lad. Take yer lass to the kitchen to meet Jenny and Willie, please. I’d like to speak wi’ Mr. Lambert for a bit. And call yer Da, please love.”

Jamie offers his arm to me and I take it, casting a worried glance over to my uncle. As we weave through the halls, Jamie pulls out his cell phone and punches a number.

“Da? Mam’s in the sittin’ room wi’ Claire’s uncle. She’s askin’ for ye.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Aye. I’m takin’ her to meet Jenny and Willie.”

He slips the phone back into his pocket and turns to me.

“I’m glad ye’re here, Claire.”

“Me too.”

“I ken you’re probably a wee bit scairt. But ye dinna need to fear anyone here, especially when I’m wi’ ye.”

I shake my head.

“I’m not scared.”

He smiled and cups my cheek in his broad hand.

“Everything ye think and feel is written across yer face, mo nighean donn. It’s okay. No one will question your bravery in coming.”

He licks his lips and looks around quickly before leaning in to kiss me. I’m rather proud that I haven’t bitten him (on accident at least) in some time. We don’t let it go too long, not with my uncle and his mother only a few feet away.

“Isn’t that how we got into this mess, Mr. Fraser,” I ask quietly, smiling up at him.

“Aye. But I havena kissed ye in several days. I need to be sure ye dinna forget me.”

Taking his arm again, I lean on him a little while we walk. In the kitchen, a few people bustle around, one of them very obviously related to Jamie.

“Jenny, Willie, I’d like ye to meet my girlfriend Claire Beauchamp.”

Two faces turn to look at me and I take a step back, into Jamie’s body. The one I knew was related to Jamie is as tall and broad as he is. The other is a bit shorter than her brothers, but I can see a bit of them both in her face. She doesn’t have Ellen’s bright red curls, but rather seems to take after her father with dark, straight hair.

“H-hello,” I say, taking a deep breath and hoping my hair isn’t sticking out funny.

“Ooohhh,” says Willie.

I’m surprised that his voice is so much deeper than Jamie’s.

“This is her, then?” Jenny asks.

“Aye,” Jamie says, giving my hand a squeeze. “Be nice to her, aye?”

“Of course we will, mo bhràthair!” Willie says. “You’ve never brought a girl home before!”

Not knowing what else to do, I stay quiet.

“It’s lovely to meet ye, Claire,” Jenny says, giving me a polite smile. “Ye’ll have to excuse me. I’ve got to help finish gettin’ our dinner ready.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I offer, needing to do something.

“Oh! Weel,” Jenny looks around the kitchen. “If ye wouldna mind cleaning the lettuce and preparing the salad, I’d appreciate it.”

I smile and wash my hands before getting to work. Jamie stares at me for a moment before joining me.

“I don’t mind at all. I do most of the cooking at home. Uncle Lamb almost burned our flat down trying to boil water.”

Jenny, Willie, and Jamie all laugh.

“Willie’s no’ verra good wi’ the cooking either,” Jenny says. “Claims it’s women’s work. But I taught Jamie better before Willie could corrupt him. My wee brother is a fair hand when he wants to be.”

“I’m no’ your wee brother anymore, Janet. I’m taller than you.”

“Aye,” Jenny says, pulling a tray of rolls from the oven. “But I’m still older than ye.”

We subside into giggles as Jenny and Jamie exchange good-natured insults. I always hate being an orphan. Not only because I no longer have my mum and dad around, but because I’ll never have siblings. I’ll never have a sister upset with me for borrowing her clothes or a brother to scare off boyfriends. But instead of allowing myself to drown in the sadness, I decide to enjoy the family Jamie invited me to join.

“Claire?”

I stop laughing, hearing my Uncle’s voice.

“Uncle Lamb? I’m in the kitchen with the others.”

My hands are full of veggies to put in the salad, or I would go out to him. Lamb finds his way into the kitchen and smiles at me.

“Ah, I should have known I’d find you elbow deep in something. I’m popping off now. Call me when you’re ready to come home. No later than nine.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

A strange expression comes across his face, something I don’t recognize. He walks around the large wooden table in the middle of the kitchen and hugs me.

“Have fun, lovie,” he whispers in my ear.

My breath catches when he uses that word. He told me, when I was younger, that ‘lovie’ was what my mother had always called me, something she’d picked up from her own mother. Whenever he used it, he did so to include my parents in my life.

“Thanks Uncle Lamb.”

He straightens up and looks Jamie in the eye.

“You take care of her.”

“Yessir.”

Then my Uncle is gone. Jenny and Willie go about their duties, getting dinner ready. Jamie and I keep nudging each other while we prepare the salad.

“Alright you two,” Jenny says with a smirk. “Go on and take that out to the table. Mam and Da should be ready by now.”

I follow Jamie out to the dining room but we both stop when we hear quiet voices.

“Dinna fash, my love. I’m doing everything the doctor said.”

“I ken that, mo nighean ruaidh.”

I don’t eavesdrop on people. It’s rude and intrusive. But I can’t help but peek around Jamie to see what he’s staring at. Brian is sitting in a chair beside his wife, one hand caressing her stomach while the other is rubbing her shoulder.

“If I got through gi’ing birth to that giant ye call a son, this one will turn out fine. Just have faith.”

Brian takes a deep breath and kisses his wife’s cheek.

“Ye better keep fighting, then. Ye’ve been a Fraser long enough to be as stubborn as the rest of us.”

“Aye, and so I have. I promise I’ll keep fighting for me and for our bairn.”

Jamie takes a step back, out of sight and takes a long breath. I follow him, waiting for him to pull himself together. I know how worried he is about his mother, he’s told me more than once. But this isn’t the time or place for him to talk about it, so he goes into the room and I follow.

“Ah! James Fraser!” Ellen scolds, her eyes wide and mouth tight. “Tell me ye didna force this sweet lass into workin’ in the kitchen!”

“No, Mrs. Fraser,” I smile at her. “I offered. I hate just standing around. But Jenny’s kicked us out, so I expect there’s not much more to do.”

“Aye, probably not. Come here and sit so we can talk. Your Uncle is a very lively man.”

I sit down in the seat to her left, Jamie taking the empty one beside me.

“Yes, he’s quite a character, my Uncle.”

“I want ye to ken ye have an open invitation to join us for dinner at any time,” Ellen says. “And I suspect your Uncle will also want a grand tour of the estate.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes.

“He’s an anthropology professor, so he’s a little obsessed with historical artifacts.”

“A little?” says Brian before Ellen swats him.

Before I can say anything else, Jenny, Willie, and another woman I wasn’t introduced to, come out with dinner.

Unlike the dinner with my Uncle, the Fraser family doesn’t interrogate me. Rather, they seem more interested in telling the most embarrassing stories about Jamie. His face is flushed red all through the meal.

“No!” I say as everyone sits back in their chairs after dessert. “That’s not how it happened at all!”

“Weel that’s what he told us,” Ellen said. “He said it was the worst presentation he’s ever given.”

I shake my head at Jamie in disbelief.

“Not at all. I think it was the best of the whole group. And I thought that before he asked me out.”

The table chuckles and Jamie gives me a small smile.

“Claire, darling,” Ellen says gently. “Ye should call yer uncle soon, I dinna want ye to be late for curfew.”

I glance down at my watch and gasp. Talking with the Frasers had completely distracted me from watching the time.

“Excuse me. This has been a lovely evening.”

I get up and move away from the table, calling my Uncle as I did.

“I was about to call you,” he answers after the second ring. “Ready to come home?”

“Yes,” I say. “It’s been great fun. They said I could come back any time.”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me all about it on the ride home. I’ll be there soon.”

I hang up and turn to see Jamie waiting for me.

“They like ye,” he says quietly.

“I like them too.”

“I think Mam wants to adopt ye. But I’m glad ye got to meet everyone.”

Jamie steps forward and wraps me in a warm, solid hug. He smells clean and a little of the outdoors.

“My Uncle is on his way. I should go and make my goodbyes before he gets here.”

Jamie takes my hand and leads me back to the dining room where Willie is beginning to gather plates.

“My Uncle will be here soon,” I tell everyone. “This has been… This has been absolutely wonderful. Thank you so much for having me over.”

Ellen, hands folded over her belly, gives me a sweet smile.

“It’s been a pleasure to meet ye, Claire. I meant what I said. Ye can come back any time ye like. We’d love to have ye again.”

“I’d like that very much.”

Jamie walks with me to the front door where we can watch the drive. The rest of the family decided to give us these few minutes, which I appreciated.

“Are ye alright, a nighean?”

“Yes, I’m okay. It’s just… It’s hard, sometimes. I’ve never had a family like this.”

“Aye, I ken it must be difficult.”

I shrug.

“But it’s beautiful. You’ve got such a lovely family, Jamie. It’s wonderful to see.”

“I hope ye take Mam up on her invitation. Willie will go back to uni soon, but I’d like to have ye back.”

“I’ll talk to my Uncle.”

Lights draw my attention and I see my Uncle’s car pulling down the long drive.

“Do I get a kiss goodnight?” I ask, biting my bottom lip.

He smiles and leans down to do as I asked, his mouth still tasting strongly of the dark chocolate from dessert. Our kiss comes to a slow, happy end just as my Uncle gets out of the car. Jamie presses his lips to my ear.

“I forgot to tell ye how beautiful ye looked tonight, Sassenach. Took my breath away when I saw ye.”

“Like you took my breath in your kilt.”

Uncle Lamb knocks on the door. Jamie opens it and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank ye for a lovely evening, Miss Beauchamp,” he says, giving me that same bow he had when he’d come to dinner at my flat.

“Thank you, Mister Fraser,” I say, offering a slight curtsey.

I follow my Uncle out to his car and collapse into the front seat.

“Did you have a good time then, Claire Bear?”

I sigh, smiling as I wave back at Jamie.

“Uncle Lamb… I think I’m in love.”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #teenage au #takemeawaytocamelot #jamie x claire #also featuring: brian fraser #also featuring: ellen fraser #also featuring: jenny #also featuring: willie #also featuring: uncle lamb

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blouisparadise · 3 years

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Today’s rec list consists of bottom Louis fics that take place in the country, the Midwest, or any rural area. We hope you enjoy. If you do, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Save A Horse | Explicit | 2400 words

Louis goes to a rodeo with Liam, and gets a lot more than he bargained for. Featuring bull rider Harry, obnoxious t-shirts, and one hell of a night.

“Come on Jackson ain’t you been practicin? It ain’t fun for me if I always beat you,” the boy drawls out, voice slow and thick like molasses. “You comin out tonight?” he asks, nudging him with his elbow.

“Not tonight H, me and Liam are going to grab something to eat,” Jackson replies, the blush returning to Liam’s cheeks.

“What about you, what’re your plans for the night darlin’?” Harry asks, crooking an eyebrow in Louis’s direction.

Louis, who is the epitome of outgoing and confident, is at a total loss for words. He starts to say something but freezes, Harry now raising his other eyebrow and smirking, awaiting Louis’s response. “I uh- I’ll probably just go home,” Louis manages to stammer out, and what the fuck? Who is this man and how has he turned Louis into an introvert in a matter of seconds?

2) Gunsmoke | Explicit | 6527 words

Harry 'Gunsmoke' Styles and his boys Liam, Zayn, and Niall are all traveling cowboys who come across a small town on their journey to nowhere. They hang out at a tavern where Harry meets Louis, a cute and fiery bartender, and they may or may not fall in love.

3) Hey I Heard You Were A Wild One (If I Took You Home It'd Be A Homerun) | Explicit | 12106 words

Harry came to the bar to forget. Louis gives him a night to remember.

4) This Land Is More Than Dreams | Explicit | 12878 words

Louis is a student taking a gap year, travelling through the States. His plans change when he meets a cute cowboy-wannabe in one of the towns.

5) Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy | Mature | 13356 words

Harry owns a farm and Louis rides horses (and pretty boys sometimes) for a living. Harry hurts himself by being clumsy before he gets to ride a horse with Louis.

6) Manifest Destiny | Explicit | 15210 words

Louis is a Pony Express rider and Harry runs a station along the trail.

7) Baby Blue | Explicit | 39439 words

Harry Styles takes his time coming out to greet them. Louis only knows what he’s seen on file and what he’s heard them talking about, but he fully lives up to the image he had inside of his head.

He saunters down the front steps of the farmhouse in his Levi’s, brown snakeskin boots curving out from underneath the denim Louis’ sure he had specially made. He’s got on a plaid button-down tucked into the jeans because of course he does, curls spilling out from either side of his cowboy hat around his sunglasses and country-tan skin.

“Harry Styles,” he drawls, extending a hand to Louis’ manager, “Pleased to meet ya’ll.”

8) I Ain’t Gonna Fence You In | Mature | 40645 words

Louis Tomlinson is a 18 year old city boy who is forced to spend his summer before his senior year at his aunts farm. There, he meets Harry, a 19 year old country boy his aunt hired to help around the farm.

Maybe the farm isn't the worst place to fall in love?

9) Boiling Blood Will Circulate | Explicit | 42420 words

The wait isn’t long before something starts rustling in the bushes. Harry takes aim, squeezes the trigger, body moving unconsciously. They’re motions he’s done a thousand times before, and his body knows how to do it without the input of his brain now. It’s what makes him such a good shot.

He misses. The shot misses.

Something howls in the woods, a pretty clear indication that Harry hit it, but there’s no telltale sounds of a big body dropping, no animal charging out at him to take him out before he can finish the job.

Something does turn and run, though. “Fuck,” Harry spits out, scrambling to his feet and slinging the rifle back over his shoulder, giving chase. He’s not going to lose this hunt.

The trail of blood goes on longer than Harry thought it would. He doesn’t know how long he runs for, but his muscles are burning, chest heaving with exertion, until the trail just - goes dead. No more blood, just like that.

“Fuck,” Harry says.

10) Your Touch Shouldn't Make Me Feel Like This | Explicit | 48883 words

Uni AU in which Alpha Harry has been in love with his omega friend for the longest time and one motorbike trip to the countryside with Louis made him realize that he could no longer hold back his feelings.

11) For the Sake of Propriety | Mature | 52360 words

Louis Tomlinson is the caretaker of an estate that is not truly his, and when his Uncle calls upon him to take it back, Louis knows he will soon be out on the streets with four overly zealous sisters to care for. His only solution: wed the eldest two off and pray for the best. When an even better solution unexpectedly presents itself in the form of the charming Mr. Styles, Louis is faced with a difficult choice. But as with all things in the regency era, reputation very well may threaten to outweigh the fleeting matters of his heart.

12) Through The Wheatfields And The Coastlines | Explicit | 52855 words

“You’re not from around here, are ya?” Hot Cowboy asks, tracking his little lamb with his eyes. Louis frowns slightly, having thought he was doing pretty well at not sticking out like a sore thumb. It’s not like he’s not from around here — it’s not his first summer he’s spent at his grandparents'. But he supposes that the Manhattan city lifestyle that he’s used to is always going to shine through.

“I’m visiting family for the summer,” Louis explains, cheeks a little pink. “Trying to get some work done without distractions.”

13) The Bachelor | Explicit | 53953 words

The one where Harry dates six other guys and still falls in love with Louis Tomlinson.

14) Apples Always Fall (As I Do For You) | Mature | 54609 words | Sequel

Louis is staying at his Aunt's farm in a small town in Minnesota for four months. To deal with the boredom that sets in a week into his stay, he starts working at the local apple orchard, owned by twenty six year old Harry Styles.

Louis quickly finds himself falling in love with the orchard, and he finds a family in Harry's friends Niall, Liam, and Zayn.

He also starts to fall in love with Harry.

Falling in love with him turns out to be the easy part.

15) Such Good Luck | Explicit | 66025 words

An Edwardian AU where Harry is a young aristocratic lord and Louis is a working class dairy farmer. Secrets are a necessary part of their relationship, but Louis has one that could topple their whole world.

16) Given a Chance | Explicit | 173511 words

Five years after One Direction took their last tour, the last thing Louis Tomlinson ever expected to happen while on a tea run at the local Piggly Wiggly was to run into his ex-boyfriend and ex-bandmate Harry Styles.

The odds of them ever running into each other again had to be super slim, right?

Wrong.

What happens when you mix ex-boyfriends with a large serving of Small Town America? Will Louis and Harry be able to set aside their differences, or will Louis be able to stay breezy as fuck in the wake of Harry’s arrival?

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#bottom louis #top harry #larry #fic recs #country au #midwest au #rural au #blp fic recs #blp

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gotham-ruaidh · 3 years

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Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass) || Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round) || Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger) || Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 7: Stick To Your Guns

Get a grip on yourself // Get in shape for tonight // Take a look at yourself or your dreams // You're losing sight...

You got to stick to your guns // What's right for you, ain't right for everyone...

Soundtrack: “Stick To Your Guns,” Mötley Crüe, 1981 [click here to listen]

Time passed.

Claire’s sessions with Gillian progressed well. For five mornings a week, ninety minutes at a time, slowly they untangled the path that had led Claire to despair, to addiction, and to The Ridge.

Claire started keeping a daily gratitude journal. For Gillian had helped her understand that she had so very much to be grateful for. Almost every entry featured Jamie – something he’d shared with her, or something small she’d done for him, or a few chords he’d played on his guitar, or a new memory she’d timidly shared – thanks to his quiet, patient encouragement.

Afternoons were for Group, and for recreation. And now that the summer was in full swing, she was volunteering in the garden. It was Glenna’s pride and joy – and grew a healthy range of herbs and fruits and vegetables to be harvested at various points through the summer and served in The Ridge’s kitchens. And Glenna’s passion quickly rubbed off on Claire – who had never gardened in her life, but absolutely relished getting dirt under her fingernails and harvesting from the plants she’d tended to so carefully.

Together with Marsali and Jamie – and a shy newcomer, Elias Pound, barely out of high school but terribly addicted to painkillers – she continued to prep and clear the dining room each evening. With Gillian’s encouragement, she took Elias under her wing, guiding him through The Ridge’s process much like others had when she had first arrived.

And when Elias quietly shared that he wanted to be a doctor – she’d started giving him pointers on what to study, how to focus his energy, and how best to mentally prepare himself for what that life would be like. A life certainly without pills.

Her medical skills had come in handy a few times, too.

There was the evening when Glenna had cut a deep gash in the back of her hand as she’d sliced corn off the cob for dinner. Claire had expertly and calmly sutured the wound, with Elias’ diligent assistance. To the applause of the small crowd that had gathered, watching.

And there was the morning when Geneva had been stung by a bee and had a terrible allergic reaction. Dougal had burst into Claire’s session with Gillian, seeking urgent help. For all that Dougal was opinionated and in charge, he clearly knew when to step back – quickly doing as Claire bade, following her down the hall and bringing her adequate supplies to stop the swelling.

And of course there was the lunch, one rainy day, when Rupert had eaten his roast beef sandwich a little too enthusiastically and began to choke. Swiftly Claire mobilized, and with a few pushes of his diaphragm the half-chewed sandwich spewed all over the table. Everyone in the dining room had cheered.

She had a purpose.

She belonged.

She’d proudly told Uncle Lamb all about it (for patients at The Ridge received phone privileges – one thirty-minute phone call every three days – once they’d been there for two weeks). And Lamb certainly shared her joy.

“You just sound healthier, my dear.” He blew his nose into the receiver. “Excuse me. Claire – I feel awful saying this to you, but I think you’ll understand now. You were so desperately unhappy for such a long time, but you didn’t want any help dealing with it, and I felt utterly paralyzed – ”

“It’s all right,” she reassured him, twisting the phone cord in her free hand, watching through the windows as a few people played volleyball on the lawn. “I wasn’t ready to hear any of it. But now I am.” She paused. “Lamb, I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry for what happened, and I’m sorry for how bad it got, and I’m sorry for disappointing you.”

“Oh, lovie. There’s nothing to be sorry about. I – ” His voice choked. “I’m just so glad you’re off of those stupid pills, and I’m so glad that you’re getting the help that you need.”

“I’m lucky to have really good people here, who want to help me. To build new habits, and to break the old ones. Did I tell you I’ve really gotten into gardening?”

“Yes! You’ll have to tell me more about it the next time we talk.”

“I will. All right – our half hour is just about up. I love you.”

“Oh I love you, Claire. Stay well.”

She hung up and sighed.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #little bit better than i used to be

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nataliedanovelist · 3 years

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GF - Mabel’s Worry

Collab with @clownwry! They’ve been super sweet and very nice, and after getting inspired by this post, I decided to write a full on-fic about it... but then it spiraled out of control, so enjoy an angsty story featuring the sweater twins!

~~~~~~~~~~

Mabel sat up quickly, breathing just as heavy as an Olympic runner. She shook her head to clear it and she hugged her knees in self-embarrassment. It was just a stupid nightmare. Vague, no real plot, but still carried the overall message, the fear, anxiety, and still made Mabel’s blood run cold and sweat sparkle on her forehead. She needed to calm down, get herself together. Milk. Warm milk.

And so she quietly got out of bed and left her shared attic bedroom for downstairs. Despite being gone for nine months, she still knew this dark home by heart. She could walk it blindfolded if needed, but the moonlight leaking in through the triangular windows helped her in her journey. That and a small light coming from the living room. Like a moth to a flame, Mabel sleepily dragged her socked feet to the room and peaked through the doorway, half of her face hidden by wood and shadow.

Grunkle Ford was sitting in the armchair, reading a book in the light of a lamp. Mabel’s spirit was lifted, relieved and happy to see him, but she was hesitant to bother him. He was happy with his book, she really shouldn’t bother him with her own stupid problems. She should probably just go get her drink and go to bed and leave him alone. But then Grunkle Ford’s instincts alerted him of a spy and he looked up and instantly smiled.

“Mabel,” His blissful facial expression dropped suddenly remembering that she went to bed a few hours ago and it wasn’t quite daylight yet. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

This really wasn’t like her, for words to fail leaving her mouth, for her to be silent or non-vocal. But all Mabel could do was barely step into the light, hands behind her back, and shrug with her eyes to the floor. She was silent because she was afraid of what she would say if she dared to give herself the opportunity to talk. Ford grew more concerned, but he knew what to do; he had more practice under his belt now than he did months ago. He smiled softly at his niece, closed his book and sat it on the dino skull, and patted his thigh. “Come here.”

Mabel looked up and bit her lip. The dame broke over her uncle’s kindness. With watering eyes she ran into his lap and clung onto him tightly, burying her face in his chest and whimpering as tears left her eyes. Ford hugged her back tightly and petted her soft long brown hair. The girl might be thirteen, but that doesn’t mean she would stop having nightmares or no longer need comfort. Moses knows, as much as he would deny it, Ford still had nightmares and still needed reassurance. Not to mention it was well-earned after everything he and his family had been through… everything he put his family through…

Mabel was mumbling something into his maroon sweater. Ford thought it was moans, sobs, but as he listened he could actually make out words. “M’sorry… m’sorry…”

“Hey, hey.” Ford said softly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, my dear.”

“... didn’t mean t’bother you…”

“Oh,” Ford cooed as gentle as a lamb. “Oh, sweetheart, you could never bother me. Never.”

Mabel sniffed. “M’sorry.” Whether she was still sorry for bothering him or sorry for being sorry was a bit unclear, but Ford decided it didn’t matter.

“It’s alright.” Ford eased. “It’s alright, my dear.”

After a few minutes of letting Mabel cry into his chest, Ford could feel Mabel make a sharp shiver in his hold. He got a pretty good idea, and so he gently had Mabel let him go. She whimpered like a puppy denied a treat, but she watched with sparkling eyes as Ford slipped off his maroon sweater, revealing a thin long-sleeved white undershirt, and he sweetly pulled it over Mabel’s head and smiled at her. She helped him by slipping her arms into the correct holes and she grinned as she now wore Ford’s old red sweater. Nearly every day he wore a Mabel Sweater she had made for her, whether she mailed it to the Stan O’ War while they were apart, or she gave it to him in person. Only every so often did he wear his old sweater, but they were both glad he did.

Mabel allowed her head to sink deeper into the worn yarn. Her senses and lungs were drowned in Ford’s scent, which brought along happy memories and good emotions. She hugged Ford again and he happily held her, petting her hair and just being there.

A few minutes of silence passed, and Ford made a prediction that it was a good time to check on her verbally. “Feeling better? Mabel?” He looked down and Mabel was asleep, one arm still around him, one hand holding onto his undershirt. Ford chuckled warmly in his chest, slowly stood, and carried Mabel to the attic to tuck her in.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Dipper, they’re ready!” Mabel called.

Dipper hurried up the stairs and ran into his shared bedroom, plopped on the beanbag, and Mabel started the call on the laptop they had on the floor between the two beds. The grunkles answered at once, sitting at the table and grinning.

“Well hey there, gremlins! How was your week?” Stan greeted.

“Pretty good, just the usual school stuff.” Dipper answered.

“Did you get the package?” Mabel asked.

Ford grinned and picked up the large sealed box and placed it on the table. “Yes, perfectly intact! We picked it up in Pevek two days ago.”

“What?! And you haven’t opened it?!”

“Oh, well we thought we should wait until…”

“You two will freeze!” Mabel shook her head and smiled. “Open it and get warm!”

Stan rolled his eyes as he pulled out his pocketknife and cut the tape. “Sweetie, in the last two years we’ve been sailing you’ve sent us three trunks full of blankets, eight pairs of gloves, at least a dozen sweaters for each of us, six scarves…”

“Not that we don’t appreciate it, we always love your packages, my dear.” Ford interrupted. “But you work too hard. We’re never cold thanks to you.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.” Mabel said firmly.

“Oh wow! Mabel!” Ford gasped happily as he pulled out a new green sweater-vest with golden diamonds and a long-sleeved salmon button up. “This is beautiful!” Ford also pulled out a regular dark-orange turtleneck.

Stan noticed there had been two stacks of things. Ford had already taken out his stack, so the old conman grinned as he plunged his hand into the box and grabbed his new baby-blue sweater with a sailboat on it. “Sweet! And look here!” Stan pulled out another sweater, this one being a warm cream color with tiny pinetrees on the neck and wrists and waist of the sweater. “Wow, Mabel! Just when I thought your sweaters couldn’t get more impressive… this is so cool!”

Mabel blushed over the compliments. “I’m glad you like them. There’s still…”

“Oh, my dear, this must have taken you ages!” Ford pulled out one last item: a large knitted blanket to go with the others, this one made with very thick yarn that was as soft as the melody of youthful days. It was very large and could easily cover both men, and it resembled the sky perfectly, being dark blue with white specks.

“Thank you, pumpkin, this is amazing!”

Mabel grinned and said, “Just please stay warm.”

Ford smiled and nodded. “Of course we will. We’re always careful, my dear. And thanks to you I think I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be cold.”

Mabel wasn’t sure if she bought it, the number of times she saw their chattering teeth, tight jaws, and rosy cheeks and noses in pictures, but she decided not to fight it and she just smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~

There are some benefits to living in the glorious year of 2014. Many different forms of communication allow people to keep in contact, no matter how far apart they are. So not only did Ford, Stan, Dipper, and Mabel, text every day and send pictures and emails, they always had their Saturday night/Sunday morning video call. Always. So, of course, Mabel and Dipper were a little concerned when no one responded to their text messages to ask if they were ready for the call.

“Hey guys! Ready?”

“Rise and shine, sleepy heads! Can’t wait to see you guys!”

“Are you guys okay? We understand if you can’t make it this week.”

“Is something wrong? We’re not mad, but could you please text us.”

“Guys, seriously, this isn’t funny…”

“If we don’t hear back from you guys I will call the FBI! The CIA!”

“You guys do know how to use your phones, right?”

“Are you guys hurt?! ARE YOU DEAD?!”

Dipper looked up from his phone and across his bedroom. Mabel was in Sweatertown on her bed, buried in her favorite nightgown. Dipper sighed and moved to sit next to her. “Mabel, it’ll be okay.”

“They’re jerks.” Mabel mumbled from within the maroon yarn.

Dipper smiled and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we’ll get payback when they finally answer.”

Mabel lifted her head just enough to peek at his twin. “But what if they never do…” And tears formed.

Dipper rubbed her back and said, “They will. I swear.”

But they didn’t. As time ticked from ten o’clock at night to midnight to even three o’clock in the morning, Dipper and Mabel stayed awake, waiting for a response, both of them knowing any attempt to sleep was futile. And when Mabel’s phone buzzed and rang for a video-call, they both dove and Mabel clicked the green button with a shaking hand.

~~~~~~~~

Stan gave his brother the mug of warm water. “You’re an idiot.”

Ford snorted and sipped the warm drink. “This isn’t coffee.”

“You don’t need coffee, you need to get hydrated.” Stan collapsed into the couch next to his brother. His eyes landed on the wall-clock, and he shot up quickly and ran for the bedroom. “DAMN IT!”

“What? What is it?!” Ford gasped.

“It’s Sunday!”

Ford groaned and slapped his forehead.

Stan grabbed his phone and found a dozen text messages from each kid and some missed phone calls. “Ah jeez, I know you’re wiped out, Sixer, but we gotta talk to these kids.”

“I don’t care if I’m on my deathbed, we’re calling them.” Ford hollered back as he loosened the grip of his blanket and Stan entered the room. His brother sat next to him and called Mabel’s phone.

At once Stan’s phone lit up with two distressed looking kids, both with wide eyes but missing their bedheads. “YOU’RE OKAY!” The two teenagers cried out.

Stan winced. “Kids, we’re really really sorry…”

“What happened?!” Mabel gasped. “Grunkle Ford, are you okay?! You don’t look very good, are you sick?!”

“Mabel, sweetie, I’m okay.” Ford eased. “I… erm, I fell overb-...”

“YOU FELL IN THE OCEAN?!” Mabel yelled in horror.

“Ssh, Mabel!” Dipper hissed, eyeing the door.

“Are you okay?! Are you on your way to a hospital?! Do you need anything? We can hitchhike…”

“Mabel, Mabel, please, I’m alright, Stanley’s been taking excellent care of me.” Ford said firmly. “I’m sorry we scared you, sweetie, but…”

“Well, good!” Mabel snapped, visibly angry and now full-on scolding. Stan and Ford glanced at each other nervously, getting flashbacks of scoldings from their mother. “You should be, knuckleheads! We can’t tell if you’re even still alive unless you tell us! Don’t you ever scare me like that again, you hear?! If something happened to you… I’m glad you’re happy and doing what you love, but PLEASE don’t kill yourselves doing it!” Mabel bit her lip as she realized she was yelling, and she used the long sweater sleeve to wipe at her damp eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“Aw, pumpkin, it’s okay.” Stan replied calmly. “You’ve got every right to be mad at us. I’m sorry, I should have at least texted you. But I honestly didn’t cuz I was busy keeping this dork alive.” Stan teased, elbowing Ford and making him smile. “So, yeah, that was really scary and that wasn’t fair, but he’s gonna be just fine and we’re both okay and you know that now. Right?”

Mabel held her knees and sunk her face into Ford’s old sweater, only her eyes and the top half of her face visible now, but she wasn’t looking at them. “Yeah… Yeah, okay…”

“Mabel,” Ford said firmly. “Mabel, look at me.” He waited until her eyes were on him, and he smiled softly and said, “We’re okay. I promise, we’re both okay.”

Mabel couldn’t help but return the smile. “Okay… okay…” She sniffed and lifted her head a little, but her chin was still happily buried in red yarn. “So, tell us what happened? Was it the Kraken again?”

Stan grinned at the opportunity for a story, and the kids happily sat and listened.

~~~~~~~~~~

Almost fifteen-years-old. Dipper should know better than to run off into the woods after a dangerous anomaly, but he did it anyway. Mabel stayed home to make sure the monster didn’t come back, and was soon reunited with her boys as they arrived, breathing heavily. Dipper was okay for the most part. His arm was hurt and he had a black eye, but he was okay, and their grunkles were only a little scuffed and there was a leaf or two in Ford’s fluffy hair.

Mabel hurried to Dipper, but instead of hugging him like the three guessed she would, she smacked her brother over the head.

“Hey!”

“Mabel!”

“You KNUCKLEHEAD!” Mabel screamed. “Don’t you EVER do that again, you hear?! Don’t you dare! What were you thinking?! You just HAD to go after it! Couldn’t go inside like a normal person!”

“Good to see you too, sis.” Dipper muttered. “I had it under control.”

“I don’t care! What if you never came back…”

Dipper blinked and interrupted her. “Aw, Mabel, that was never gonna happen.”

Mabel bit her lip, held herself, and looked away.

“M-Mabel, I’m really sorry…”

“Here, let’s get you cleaned up first, and then we’ll talk about this, okay?” Stan eased, sensing that they needed a time-out. “C’mon, kid.”

Dipper sighed and followed Stan to the bathroom where they kept the first aid kit, leaving Ford alone with Mabel, who was well prepared to talk to her.

“Mabel, my dear, you have every right to be upset with him…”

“How could he do that?!” Mabel looked up at her uncle. “How could he think for a second it’s okay to just run off like that?!”

Ford chuckled a little to try to lighten the situation. “You know your brother. He has high ambitions and is extremely curious.”

“That doesn’t matter!” Mabel snapped. “It’s still stupid and selfish! I know he needs to do what he loves, but doesn’t he know how much I need him?! How can he just leave me behind?!”

Ford stared at Mabel. Her voice was cracking, her lip was trembling, and something in her eyes was screaming to be heard. Ford thought for a second, then dared to ask, “A-Are you talking about Stanley and I as well?”

Mabel sobbed. She yelled out in pain and collapsed on the bottom step, burning her face in her hands, and sobbed her heart out. Ford was stunned to hear her cry so hard, in so much emotional pain. She didn’t even cry this hard over any nightmares, and he had dealt with a handful of them. Poor Mabel was crying so hard and violently she gagged and retched occasionally, her body torn if she could cry or not but it was out of her control.

Ford got on his knees before her, but did not touch her. It broke his heart to see her so upset. And he and Stan had done this? Whatever it would take to fix it, he would do it. He was reluctant, but if sailing around the world with his brother was causing this much pain for their girl, then they would both agree to dock for good. “M-Mabel…”

“I understand…” Mabel mumbled through her tears and into her palms. “I understand why you had to go… why you both wanna go… b-b-but what if something happens to you?! How many times have you both gotten sick or hurt or nearly killed?! I miss you all the time and I’m always worried I’ll never see or hear from you again!”

“Oh, Mabel, sweetie…” Ford reached out a hand to put on her shoulder, but Mabel threw herself into Ford’s hold and he hugged her back tightly.

“I get it… I understand why you have to go… so WHY do I still feel this way?!” Mabel sobbed, clinging onto his uncle for dear life. “I’m so angry and scared and hurt! But I don’t want you to stop, I want you to sail cuz I know it makes you happy, but I need you to be okay!”

A lot of things clicked in Ford’s brain. Why Mabel always sent packages full of warm clothes. Why she always asked what they ate. Why she always checked on them. Why she was very observant and asked if they were okay if something was slightly off. Why she easily got worried if she didn’t hear from them. And why she always hugged them like she never wanted to let them go.

Ford blinked his stiff eyes a few times and forced himself to keep it together. “I’m so sorry, Mabel. You and your brother are everything to us. I love you two more than anything. If… If sailing causes you this much distress we can…”

“NO! No no no!” Mabel screamed in horror, holding on tighter. “No, please don’t stop cuz of me! I don’t- That doesn’t matter!”

“Mabel Pines,” Ford said firmly and readjusted his hold on her so he could look her straight in the eye. “You matter.”

“I-I know. I know.” Mabel breathed. “But… please don’t stop sailing cuz of me. Please. I don’t want you to stop. But… I want you and Grunkle Stan to be okay. I… I can’t lose you…”

A large lump was in Ford’s throat. He tried to swallow it away, but it didn’t work. He compromised and took advantage of the silence. He cupped Mabel’s right cheek with his left hand and wiped some tears away with his thumb. Mabel covered his hand with hers and turned her face into his palm.

“I understand, my dear. I do. And I’m so sorry. I swear, we won’t stop sailing unless we want to. You have my word. But I also swear to you that Stanley and I won’t let anything happen. We;re too scared of losing each other to let anything happen, believe me.” Mabel moved her eyes to his. “We will always come home. I promise.”

Mabel hugged her uncle again and cried into his shoulder, leaving him to rub her back and pray she would be okay. Ford opened his eyes and caught the sight of his twin at the top of the stairs. He must have heard Mabel’s screams and come to investigate, but decided to stay out of it. But a look from Ford told Stan that Mabel needed him too, so Stan climbed down the stairs, sat behind her, and hugged them both.

#GF #gravity falls #gift #collab #ford and mabel bonding #fanfiction #clownwry #sea grunks #angst #ANGST AND FLUFF

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scapegrace74-blog · 3 years

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New Ways of Turning Into Stone

A/N Another long drive, another Outlander fanfic idea that dropped into my brain out of nowhere, shoving aside the historical AU I have been wrestling with for months. Here’s the pitch: Claire Beauchamp is a psychiatrist specializing in grief counselling. Jamie Fraser is referred to her by his sister, who is worried for his well-being after a series of family tragedies. You can probably guess the rest, but I’m going to write it anyway. The title is taken from a song by the amazing Phantogram that was playing as the story idea came to me.

After losing my WIP virginity posting Ginger Snap, I’m going out on that limb again and posting this first chapter with only a rough outline mapped out in my head. You people are a terrible influence! Also, there will be some trigger warnings on future chapters, so please watch out for those. And now, on with our show.

Claire Beauchamp glanced down at the leather-bound calendar open on her desk. The ivory page for Thursday was packed to the margins, each hourly block filled with the name of a patient followed by a series of cuneiform symbols she used to remind herself of the last session, course of treatment, overall progress, all while maintaining strict confidentiality. Not even Geillis Duncan, her office administrator and very good friend, knew how to decode the script.

Geillis liked to laugh at the old-fashioned day planner, reminding Claire that their practice utilized software that could perform the same function electronically, but she enjoyed the act of physically logging each session. The solid heft of her Mont Blanc pen in her hand, a medical school graduation gift from her Uncle Lamb. The scratch and grab of the nub as it bled black ink over virgin paper. It was a tactile ceremony in a detached world. Geillis would nod and then tell her she needed to get laid.

Speak of the devil, a sharp rap on her office door was followed by the appearance of her strawberry blonde head. blue eyes alight with mischief.

“Yer two o’clock is here. Did ye need more time tae finish bolting down tha’ chaff ye call a salad, or can I show him in?”

“It’s kale,” she defended. “It’s full of anti-oxidants.”

A disdainful scoff was the only response.

“Yes, Geil, please show Mister...” she glanced down at her planner, “...Fraser in, thank you.”

The tiny rectangle contained only a name, which meant this was their first appointment. Geillis vetted all prospective patients, but Claire preferred to go into the first meeting blind, with no assumptions or pre-conceptions.

She wondered what misfortune had caused Mr. Fraser to seek out her psychiatric services. The death of a child, perhaps, or the end of an extra-marital affair. People grieved for very different reasons and worked through or around that grief with a surprising variety of coping mechanisms. Most called upon her practice in much the same way they would a breakdown truck when their car’s engine failed. They simply wanted to get back on the road to happiness.

Despite the degrees and accreditations that decorated her office wall, Claire wasn’t certain such a thing was possible. In her experience, grief was a phantom limb that never really went away. The best one could hope for was to learn healthier ways of living with it.

The sound of Geillis clearing her throat snapped her back to the present.

“Was there something else, Geil?”

“Och, no’ really. Just, when yer considerin’ how tae thank me later on, remember tha’ my favourite stone is an emerald, that I prefer gold tae silver, but platinum is ne’er amiss.”

“What are you on about, Duncan?” But her friend had already disappeared back into the reception area, leaving behind only the glow of her Cheshire smile. Claire was shaking her head, bemused, when another knock rang out, this one considerably heavier than the first.

“Come in,” she called as she looked up. And up. And up some more.

The man who now practically filled her office door had to be at least six foot four, with powerful shoulders and a broad torso encased in a blue henley. His nearly endless legs were likewise muscular, as testified by the stretch of his jeans across each thigh. As if his physique wasn’t remarkable enough, he had a head of outrageously wavy red hair, worn long enough to graze the tops of his ears and the nape of his neck, but swept back from a high brow by a judicious use of product. His face was angular in a pleasingly unique way, with a day or two’s growth of beard counter-balancing an almost youthful, earnest appearance. But his most striking feature by far were his aquamarine eyes that shimmered like a tropical sea. Eyes that were currently observing her with perplexity.

“Dr. Beauchamp?” a deep Scottish brogue inquired. He pronounced it as though she were French.

“Yes,” she startled. “That’s me. And it’s pronounced Beecham. Please, come in Mister Fraser.” She shuffled a few items around her desk needlessly as she tried to compose herself. Damn Geillis for not giving her a bit more warning that her newest client was some sort of fitness model.

“Thank ye,” he replied. “An’ it’s pronounced Jamie, if ye please.” She added wit to the growing list of the man’s attributes.

If anything, he grew even more impressive as he approached. She could see he was nervous, although hiding it well. His striking eyes darted about the room, trying to get a sense of his environment. She indicated the well-upholstered armchair that sat to one side of her desk.

“Have a seat,” she invited.

With a surprising amount of grace for one so tall, he eased into the chair but didn’t lean back. The fingers of his left hand tapped restlessly against his thigh. She watched him quietly, waiting for him to speak. This was a trick she had learned when she first started practicing psychiatry, but in this case it also allowed her to continue her appraisal. He was, she concluded, the most attractive man she’d ever seen in the flesh.

“No couch,” he finally observed.

“No. That’s a bit of a Hollywood trope, I’m afraid. Lying prone in front of a stranger is hardly conducive to feeling at ease.”

He nodded his acceptance of her logic, but was otherwise silent.

“So,” she spoke at last, unable to wait him out, “what caused you to seek out counselling, Jamie?” His name suited him, she thought as she spoke it for the first time. Both boyish and imposing at once.

“I didna. Twas my sister, Jenny, who insisted I see a doctor.” His mobile mouth twisted into a grimace. She could imagine the sibling discord that such a demand would have caused. Whoever this Jenny was, she was made of strong stuff. Unfortunately for her, a hostile patient would receive no benefit from merely visiting her office. Counselling was a participatory process, and she could tell from the stubborn set of Jamie’s shoulders that he had no intention of participating.

“I see,” she said carefully. “Well, it’s your time and your dime, Mr. Fraser. This session lasts for forty-five minutes, and you’ve not been here for five. There’s a carafe of hot water on the table over there, if you care for some tea. Or you’re welcome to just enjoy that comfortable chair for another forty minutes. I’ll be working on some administrative necessities.”

She turned her chair away from him, but from the corner of her eye she could see his gobsmacked expression. He had clearly expected her to cajole and manipulate him into co-operating, but that simply wasn’t her style.

“I meant no offence, doctor. I’m certain ye’re verra good at what ye do. Tis only... well, Jenny is my older sister, ye ken. She practically raised me. And so ofttimes she treats me like a muckle-sized bairn, and no’ a man who’s capable of lookin’ after himself.”

As he spoke, Jamie leaned forward until his elbows rested on his knees, expressive hands gesturing in front of his face. Hostile to the notion of counselling he might be, but he clearly wanted her to understand it wasn’t a slight. As a physician, she had been trained to never take a patient’s reactions personally, but it didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate the effort.

“No offence taken, Jamie. If you don’t need my assistance, I’m happy for you. That’s one less person hurting in the world.”

“I didna say I wasna hurting. But I can handle it my own way. I am handling it, that is,” he hurried to add.

Unable to sit still any longer, he rose and walked over to the small table where she kept an assortment of herbal teas and a tray of Geillis’ homemade biscuits. Bending over, Jamie set about making himself some; chamomile by the smell of it. The sound of spoon ringing off porcelain as he stirred in some honey made her smile, reminding her of Lamb and his obsession with the lost art of afternoon tea.

“Can I make ye a cup?”

The question was so unexpected, it took her a moment to process it. The tea was there as a distraction for her patients, to give them something to do with their bodies as they worked through difficult emotions. None of them had ever thought to offer her a reprieve as well.

“No, thank you. I just finished lunch.”

He dipped a shortbread into the steaming tea, then ate it in a single bite. Instead of sitting back down, he began to browse the framed certificates and photographs along the far wall as he sipped his tea. With his back turned, her eyes dipped to admire his ass, which filled out his jeans perfectly. When she caught herself, she gave her head a shake, appalled at her lack of professional detachment. Maybe Geillis was right. Maybe she really did need to get laid.

“How long have ye been a doctor?” Jamie asked without turning around.

“Ten years,” she replied. “But I’ve only been a psychiatrist for the last two.”

It was a dangerous topic, and she blamed his ass for letting the words slip out. Fortunately, his inquisitiveness took him in an entirely different direction.

“Were ye some kind of prodigy, then? Ye hardly seem old enough tae have yer own practice, let alone fer a decade. If ye dinna mind me sayin’ so,” he added quickly, as though realizing what he’d just said.

“Not at all. And you hardly seem young enough to be a, what was it? A muckle-sized bairn?”

As he turned to look her way, she understood the expression ‘shot-gun smile’ for the first time. It spread across his face like a sunbeam, transforming what was already remarkable into a work of art. If she hadn’t been sitting, she likely would have stumbled backward from the force of the blow. Scrambling for something familiar to keep her from making a very grave fool of herself in front of this man, she clasped her clinical training with both hands.

“Are you and your sister close?”

“Aye, when we’re no’ tryin’ not tae kill the other. Our Mam died when I was only four, and with Da workin’ dawn til dark on the farm, Jenny was parent, teacher an’ playmate all rolled inta one.”

“You’re not from Edinburgh, then?” Although what that had to do with his counselling, she hadn’t a clue.

“Nah, I hail from a wee village in the Highlands ye’ve likely ne’er heard of called Broch Mordha.” She shook her head to indicate she was indeed unfamiliar with it. Jamie launched into a detailed description of the place, his hands sculpting the landscape out of thin air. He obviously cared very deeply for his home, and she felt a twinge of jealousy, having never known that feeling of deep belonging herself.

“And what brought you to Old Smoky?” she asked as he wound down, her interest piqued. It was like slamming a lead door on his previously sunny disposition.

“Family obligations.” Said in such a way as to make it clear that no further words would be forthcoming on the topic. She regretted her nosiness immediately, despite what it revealed about his emotional state. Jamie was most certainly grieving something, but handling it he was not.

Before she could find a way back to the easy flow of conversation, a chime from her laptop indicated that the session was up. She couldn’t bear to dismiss him without trying to set things right.

“Listen, Jamie, I understand that you only came here today to humour your sister, but I want you to consider something. Whether we’re grieving or angry or jealous, or any destabilizing feeling, we’re often the worst surveyors of our own landscape. Just like you can’t know your place on the sea without referencing the stars, it takes something external to ourselves to measure how far adrift we have become. Your sister obviously loves you. Ask yourself, what has she seen in you that prompted her to force you to seek help?”

They parted with cordial but muted goodbyes. The door closed behind him, leaving Claire to stare at the blank rectangle in her planner that bore his name. No coded symbols flowed from her pen. When the door re-opened, it was Geillis, closing it firmly behind her.

“Weel, did I no’ tell ye? Wee fox, tha’ one. And he told me he liked my shortbread!” Geillis said this as though it was some kind of sexual euphemism, which for all Claire knew, it was.

“Yes,” she replied distractedly. “He’s very nice.”

“Nice! Nice? Tha’ man is tae nice what Wagyu is tae beef jerky. Have ye completely lost yer senses, woman?”

“Yes, well, he’s a patient, Geillis, as you well know. And not one I’m likely to see again,” she added, acknowledging out loud what she already knew.

“Oh, no?” Geillis sing-songed. “Thas’ strange, as he just made an appointment fer the same time next week.”

Claire’s eyes flew to where her friend looked on, smug as could be.

“Yer three o’clock called tae say she was runnin’ five minutes late. I’ll leave ye tae think about yer... patient.”

Claire picked up her pen, trying to pull together something resembling a professional summary of her first appointment with Jamie. Her mind replayed their interaction, but all she could remember was the way his eyes crinkled when he was listening attentively, the tidy half-moons of his fingernails, the seam of his jeans as it contoured his thigh, and the cymbal-crash in her chest that accompanied his smile.

Patient, she reminded herself. Jamie Fraser is your patient.

#my writing #outlander

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aftgficrec · 3 years

Note

Any of the foxes having a long lost younger sibling and them taking them in?

Most of the fics we found feature Neil or Andrew with a sibling (sometimes a twin, sometimes a younger sister or brother). As for any of the other foxes having younger siblings, I haven’t been able to find anything about that. - S

Also see...

Neil with a twin here

Neil with a brother/sibling here

Neil with a sister here

Neil with a half-sister here

‘The F Word’ here

‘The Alliance of the Diabolical Younger Siblings (HCs and Snippets)’ here

‘Aidan Minyard’, ‘Another Minyard’, ‘Three Minyards’ series and ‘counting sheep’ here

‘Night is the Raven, Day is the Fox’ here

lamb to the slaughter by lacunia [Rated M, 172429 words, incomplete, last updated July 2021]

After being saved from a vicious and merciless kidnapper that had him for eight long traumatising weeks, Asher Foster is trying his best at normalcy; which means he continues to work at a local convenience store and continues to do his schoolwork.

However, his attempt at prevalence is postponed when he learns he has not one, but two older twin brothers, and now Asher's not only dealing with the aftereffects and the outcome of his own grisly dark past, but also with the task of meeting and understanding Andrew and Aaron Minyard and their own family, the Palmetto State Foxes.

But Asher's life is far from a fairy tale, and not all demons are content with staying buried.

or, there's another secret Minyard brother.

tw: kidnapping, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced self harm

He Looks Just Like You by lycutest [Rated M, 2730 words, incomplete, last updated April 2021]

"I have someone coming over today" Neil said to the foxes, who were spread between Abby's living room and kitchen.

"Wait, do you have friends that we don´t know about?"

"He is not my friend, Allison. He is my family."

Or, Neil has a twin that is coming over for christmas

tw: panic attack

Wicked Game by velaris28 [Rated M, 7585 words, incomplete, last updated April 2021]

Anya Marie Minyard is the princess among monsters, and she isn't afraid. She knows them, and they know her. She protects them, and they protect them. But who's going to protect her heart when she starts falling for the son of Exy?

tw: canon-typical violence

Alexandria Wesninski series by Naeshty [Not Rated, 6967 words, incomplete, last updated March 2021]

Part 1: Alexandria Wesninski (4406 words)

Neil had a three year younger sister, that Mary left behind when she escaped with Neil. These are some stories about Alexandria Wesninski.

Part 2: The white Raven (2561 words)

Hey, I’m Alexandria and I’m going to tell you my story. My friends will tell you their perspective in the first part of this series.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

I Didn't Run Away to Come Home the Same by Bohobo [Rated T, 5186 words, incomplete, last updated Jan 21]

Neil Josten had a brother, well- had is now has, as after a raid that ended with the rest of Nathan Wesninski's men found and detained, little Damaryon Wesninski is found and brought back to the world of the living.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Lost Sister by thisisnotourlasthunt [Rated M, 29020 words, incomplete, last updated Nov 2020]

A year after the events of The King's Men, Neil receives a call from the FBI telling him an unexpected and shocking news, they found a toddler in one of his father's hiding places and the baby looks just like Neil.

tw: violence, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

Lost and found again series by jane_dorne [Not Rated, 15937 words, incomplete, last updated Aug 2020]

Neil has a sister. The Foxes adopt her.

Part 1: Razor sharp smile and icy blue eyes (14109 words)

Neil thought his sister had died years ago. So when he receives a call from his uncle Stuart, two day sbefore Christmas, informing him of Nathalie Victoria Wesninsky's whereabouts, saying he is surprised is an understatement. Of course he goes straight to her and offers her a place with the Foxes.

Marion lives in France and the last thing she expects is to find her long lost brother on her doorstep with an offer she barely dares to believe. But she is tired of running and this is something she can't refuse.

Neil has a sister and the Foxes adopt her, because of course they do.

tw: panic attacks, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced abuse

Part 2: Someone has to (718 words)

Allison calls Andrew 'Monster'. Marion goes on a page long rant about why she shouldn't.

Part 3: Go Foxes! (1110 words)

A trip to Eden's results in new friendships and a new hobby/passion.

Neil’s twin Liam series by @whatmack [tumblr, 2019-2020]

I just took a nap and dreamed that like, Neil had a twin who had run with them but then decided to stay with Stuart but he was still really sweet and when Neil tells the foxes everybody loves him??

tw: nightmares, tw: self harm

Seth Gordon and his brothers by @eloquent-apollo [tumblr, 2020]

Its Seth Gordon loving hours so hey, you know what, as a treat to myself here are some headcanons I have about him based on what Seth could have been had he not been nerfed on sight by Riko Moriyama.

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atruththatyoudeny · 3 years

Text

Happy 28th! I’ve read so many awesome fics this month! Make sure to check them all out. As always, all my love to all the authors in this fandom ♥

➻ don't want to fight you | starryharry | enemies to lovers - enemies to friends to lovers - pining - mutual pining - angst - fluff slow burn - no smut - 124k Louis hates that it’s familiar. He hates that sparring Harry is familiar because they train together. He hates that he even has to spar Harry at all, because Harry is good. Louis wonders what his life would be like if him and Harry didn’t hate each other. He can’t picture it, really. The incessant bickering that often turns into real arguing, the nasty looks, the eye rolls, the middle fingers. It all feels very necessary at this point. Or, the one where two fighters can also be lovers because routines are never permanent.

➻ we are ghosts amongst these hills | louisgaynkles | Soulmates - reincarnation - historical - slow burn - angst - fluff - 84k Harry spontaneously buys a house in Yorkshire because the universe, or fate, keeps leading him to it. What he didn’t know, is that his new house comes with a past that seems to be mysteriously tied to his own life. Before he knows it he finds himself travelling back in time, stuck in the middle of a century old love story. Featuring Louis as a farmer with a passion for gardening, Zayn as the heir to the local manor, Niall as a pub owner with a secret, and a truly underappreciated Liam. Based on Mariana by Susanna Kearsley

➻ through the wheatfields and the coastlines | thepolourryexpress | farms - cowboys - angst - implied/referenced homophobia - implied/referenced gun use - humor - smut - 53k “You’re not from around here, are ya?” Hot Cowboy asks, tracking his little lamb with his eyes. Louis frowns slightly, having thought he was doing pretty well at not sticking out like a sore thumb. It’s not like he’s not from around here — it’s not his first summer he’s spent at his grandparents'. But he supposes that the Manhattan city lifestyle that he’s used to is always going to shine through. “I’m visiting family for the summer,” Louis explains, cheeks a little pink. “Trying to get some work done without distractions.” Or, alternatively, the one where Louis needs inspiration, and a certain cowboy and his lamb are the perfect distraction.

➻ An Irrationally Strong Bond Between Two People | jishler | dystopia - friends to lovers - angst - first time - 18k Before The Advancement, most human lives and careers were plagued by irrationality and a lack of productivity. This was largely the symptom of what scientists refer to as “interpersonal passion,” which included two separate (though often conjointly occurring) phenomena: “love,” and “sex.” “Love” was a pre-Advancement word which referred to an irrationally strong bond between two people, which caused its sufferers to prioritise their fellow “lover,” as well as the integrity of the malignant bond itself, over vital things such as workplace productivity. Taken every two weeks in pill form, The Drug immediately removes interpersonal passion from the human psyche. Children’s friendships do not have the capacity to develop into full-fledged “love” since they are not yet adults. Every person over eighteen takes The Drug gladly, grateful that it allows them to be productive, clear-headed, and rational members of society. A few weeks before Louis’ eighteenth birthday, Harry and Louis fall in love. (Based on the book Louis writes in indiaalphawhiskey's Our Lives, Non-Fiction.)

➻ And When It's Time | larryftnoctrl | Soulmates - soulmate-identifying timers - 6k Louis wants a soulmate, Harry loves his free will. They don't exactly go hand in hand. Prompt: AU where you have a countdown on your wrist for when you're going to meet your soulmate and if you miss it the time will reset. Louis/Harry keep having awful luck and always are missing their time until one day they don't. Maybe the other one is scared/has anxiety about meeting their soulmate? Maybe one time they're in a relationship so they intentionally miss their time? Who knows! But they finally meet :D

➻ made for lovin' you | cuddlerlouis | a/b/o - enemies to lovers - hate to love - soulmates - hurt/comfort - angst - fluff smut - 53k “I’m in,” is all Louis receives. He blinks a few times, making sure he’s reading this right. “For real?” he asks, just to be a hundred percent sure. “Yes,” pops up. “How do you wanna pursue?” The alpha adds, like he’s on a special mission or something. “I’m gonna call us a cab to go to mine. Once I know it’s here, I’ll leave and join you there,” Louis explains. “I’ll text you to go around five minutes before it arrives, so it doesn’t look suspicious, and our friends don’t notice us leaving together.” “Noted.” So Louis does, and ten minutes later, he’s sat in the backseat of a cab, next to Harry Styles, the person he hates the most but unfortunately still finds attractive. They’re on their way to fuck in Louis’ flat. Splendid. - Or the one where a quick, horny decision ruins Louis’ summer plans, but may also lead to unexpected discoveries. Featuring the road trip of dreams, misunderstandings, and a bit of fate.

➻ deFENCEless | solvetheminourdreams | neighbors - enemies to lovers enemies to friends to lovers - gardening - fluff - humor - banter - no smut - 27k "I moved here first," Louis says with finality, crossing his arms over his chest. Harry shoots him an unimpressed look before leaning forward, leaving only a tiny gap between them. "Then get the fence first," he whispers, lips a mere inch or two away from Louis'. When Louis butts heads with his new neighbor who loves to garden a little too much, all he can do to protect his yard (and heart), is keep on building up his fence(s).

➻ Canyon Moon | delsicle | a/b/o - werewolf - soulmates - childhood friends - friends to lovers - arranged marriage - mutual pining - hurt/comfort - angst - 41k For as long as Louis has remembered, he has been promised to be mated to Harry, his best friend and the future pack alpha. But Louis’s heart belonged to the forest and to the hunt more than he could ever imagine it belonging to Harry. Then Harry’s father dies in a violent accident, and Louis’s future alpha disappears on the wind. An A/B/O Lion King AU

➻ only guilty of loving you | sweetrevenge | a/b/o - strangers to lovers - blind date - soulmates - fluff - angst - mutual pining - smut - 22k After Harry gets set up with his co-worker's alpha friend Louis, he's expecting some pleasant conversation, free dinner, and maybe a new friend. What he doesn't expect, however, is that Louis' arrival in his life begins a life of crime Harry never knew he had in him. A You've Got Mail!AU with a twist.

➻ 'Til Everything Changes | lovelarry10 | a/b/o - older characters - brokend bond - loss - falling in love - fluff - implied mpreg - smut - 57k Harry’s nose twitched as he caught a scent on the breeze, one that sent a shudder through his whole body. His eyes closed subconsciously, and he lost himself in the heady scent, the vanilla top notes, and the more woody undertones, making every hair on Harry’s body stand on end. That was how Harry discovered this man was an Alpha. “Jaz, Harry, this is my Uncle Louis. Lou, this is my girlfriend Jasmine, and her dad Harry.” "Lovely to meet you,” Louis grinned, leaning in and kissing Jasmine’s cheek quickly, a respectful Alpha gesture. Harry held his breath as Louis stuck out a hand, taking it almost reluctantly, certain the Alpha would pick up on his own scent and the nerves flowing through it. “Hi, Harry.” “Hi,” Harry said, his voice low and raspy, still affected by Louis’ scent. “Nice to meet you.” ~~~~ Harry’s an Omega who has been alone for too long. Louis’ an Alpha who is scared to find love again. Thanks to the meddling of Harry’s teenage daughter and her boyfriend, the two seem destined to meet, and it might just change everything they thought they knew about their lives. Will they find what they didn’t realise they’ve always wanted in each other?

➻ Mind Over Matter (You Under Me) | youreyesonlarry | ice hockey - hurt/comfort - angst - fluff - major character injury - pining - unrequited love hospitalization - smut - 74k It’s dark outside when Harry finishes practice for the day. -------- Prompt 21: Harry stopped playing hockey (after 10 years of a professional career) because of a severe injury. The dream he worked so hard for vanished in the blink of an eye. His family insisted that he had to go to physical therapy, even if it only helped his health. Cue to personal assistant Louis, the most efficient and kind PA one could hire

➻ Rooms on Fire | softfonds | a/b/o - actors - famous/famous - friends with benefits - secret relationship - 34k Ten years ago, Louis helping Harry through a heat was the start of a romance that ended in heartbreak. Now, Harry's marriage is over thanks to his husband's very public infidelity, and Louis is fresh off a Golden Globe win. The last thing they both expect is to be cast in the same movie.

➻ Stumbling Into Your Arms | sunshineandthemoonlight | a/b/o - strangers to lovers - college/university - fluff - 7k Suddenly, Harry’s nose was brushing against Louis' neck, where his scent was overwhelming. Harry jerked his head to the side and took a deep breath of air, trying to clear his nose of Louis’ scent. ‘Don’t get slick, don’t get hard, don’t get slick’, he repeated to himself in his head, like a mantra. Louis and Harry are university students heading home for the holidays. Harry quickly becomes enraptured by the attractive alpha standing across from him in the train carriage, who has a heavenly scent and a gentle smile.

➻ Little by Little | nonsensedarling | mpreg - non traditional a/b/o - exploring sexuality - exploring secondary gender norms - gender identity strangers to friends to lovers - mutual pining - fluff - slow burn - 65k Harry Styles is an omega who works at the London Planetarium, has lived in the same flat for ages, and is happy enough on his own. When he gets home from his first (horrible) attempt at dating in years, a new pregnant neighbor knocks on his door after smelling his cooking. He and Louis quickly become close, but their friendship gets complicated when Harry begins questioning who he is and what he likes. Or Harry discovers figuring out who you are is more complicated than a potato metaphor.

#28th appreciation #fic rec #monthly reads #monthly fic rec #my reads #larry fics #completed fics

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uwmarchives · 3 years

Photo

“Faster, Higher, Stronger”

To highlight the start of the 2020 Summer Olympics in Tokyo, we again dig into the Albert Rainovic collection at UWM Archives, call number UWM Manuscript Collection 43.

Pictured above is an image drawn by Rainovic that was published in the “Men’s and Recreation Section” of The Milwaukee Journal on Sunday, November 18, 1956. Find this image in Box 14, #459.

Clockwise, the featured Wisconsin athletes include Ken Wiesner, Del Lamb, Ralph Metcalf, and Don Gehrmann. The following caption is included with the image:

Track and skating have provided Wisconsin with most of her Olympic stars, such as these from the last quarter century. Gehrmann ran eighth in the 1948 1,500 meter race. Wiesner placed second in the high jump in 1952. Lamb came in fifth in 1936 and tied for sixth in 1948 in 500 meter races. He was coach of the 1956 speed skating team. Metcalfe took second in the 100 meter dash and third in the 200 in 1932. He ran second to Jesse Owens in the 100 in 1936. - By Al Rainovic, a Journal Artist

In 1968, the Olympics Games were in Mexico City, Mexico, and Rainovic drew the above image to commemorate the event. Uncle Sam is drawn in a track and field uniform with the American flag in the background, and on the flag, are surnames of U.S. Olympians. This image was published in the Milwaukee Journal on October 25, 1968. The quotation reads:

“Nothing is more synonymous of our national success than is our national success in athletics. Nothing has been more characteristic of the genius of the American people than is their genius for athletics.”

- Gen. Douglas MacArthur (1928)

What Rainovic’s drawing does not capture amid the national triumph of Olympic gold, is the protest of Black American athletes during the 1968 Games. In what is now an iconic image (pictured below), Tommie Smith and John Carlos, sprinters in the men’s 200-meter race, raised their gloved fists in the Black Power salute during the U.S. national anthem. The gesture was done in solidarity with the Black Freedom Movement in the U.S. and was rewarded with the expulsion of Smith and Carlos from the Games because their action was deemed too political for the apolitical nature of an international sports competition, according to the president of the International Olympics Committee (IOC).

Smith, Carlos, and Australian sprinter Peter Norman also wore patches during the medal ceremony that supported the Olympic Project for Human Rights, an organization that protested against racial segregation in the United States and racism in sports.

Find Rainovic’s 1968 drawing in Box 14, #448.

Jamee, Archives Graduate Intern

#Olympics #Tokyo #Tokyo Olympics #sports #drawings #medals #Summer Olympics #2020 #Protest #1960s #1950s #athletes #BLM #Wisconsin #Albert Rainovic #Milwakuee #Milwaukee Journal #Jamee Pritchard

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jamieatthebarricade · 4 years

Text

Maids to Wives

An Outlander AU based loosely on the TV Show and real life in the historic Jamestown

In 1619, one hundred and forty-four English women from good families crossed the Atlantic in response to the Virginia Company of London’s call for maids “young and corrupt” to make wives for the planters of it’s new colony in Virginia. One in six of the maids could even claim gentry status. Although promised a free choice of husband, they were in effect being traded into marriage for a bride price of 150 pounds of best leaf tobacco, the profits to flow to individual investors

In 1619, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp made the voyage to do one thing: marry a man she's never met. But when she arrives, she comes to the startling realization that her heart belongs to someone else, a certain James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser.

Chapter 1/? : Aboard The Ship

April 17th, 1619, Claire’s POV

“I feel like my innards are swasheling ‘bout” Geillis hacked out her dinner for the 4th time this week. I tried my best to soothe her, rubbing her shoulders lightly, but the smell of old fish and stomach acid from the other’s puking made it hard to keep anything down. Most of us hadn't been on a boat before, let alone in the middle of the ocean where the monstrous waves led to monstrous waves of sea sickness. It took all my strength not to succumb to the churn in my own stomach. Poor Geillis didn't have the same strength as I.

Geillis was one of the first women I met on this voyage. Me and her bonded over our love of herbs and our older age. She has become one of my closest friends on this trek to find my future husband.

My Husband. The word had only rolled off my tongue a few times in my life, but suddenly it was my entire world. It was all the ladies talked about, all they thought of, all they could remember dreaming about. But, the rest of the women on the ship were different from me, and from Geillis too: they were young, and they were trained. Geillis and I were the eldest of all the brides -she being 31 and I being 27- and didn’t receive the same education as the rest of the girls. I myself spent my childhood traveling Europe with my Uncle Lamb, not learning how to be a good wife that could keep house. Perhaps if my parents hadn’t died when I was so young they could have instilled the passion for housekeeping in me, but a childhood under my Uncle’s influence assuredly led to the demise of any interest in such things. He even tried to enroll me in a dame school, but I refused. Can you imagine? Years of learning how to sew and knit and cook. I couldn’t think of a more revolting thing. I had longed to continue to travel with Uncle Lamb, as his career as an antiquarian required him to do, and so he had no choice but to keep me by his side. I imagine him beside me now, as if this voyage was just like any other: exploring new lands with curiosity and excitement.

As Geillis continued to empty her stomach, I scanned the cabin, seeing some of the younger girls on the ship playing a card game. Their eyes lit a bright light inside of them when they got a good hand, and their smiles sparkled like pearls in the faint lantern light. Despite the ship muck they resided in, they still radiated beauty and grace. That and their training would make them excellent wives.

Perhaps I should have let Uncle Lamb enroll me in that Dame school, I thought as I turned back to check on Geillis. Even though I got to choose the man I married, there was no guarantee that my husband would keep me when he found out how many skills I lacked. But no man could be so cruel, could he? While it made no sense to wish for a kind husband, I still did, as did all the women. I could only hope that my husband would be caring, smart, and understanding (and have a face and body with equally desirable qualities, but both together was the most rare of all).

A tug on Geillis’s hair called me back to reality. It seemed the sickness had faded for a moment or two, enough for her to speak. “Claire, I swear to ye, if I don’t make it on this ship, bury me in the new world. I dinna care if my flesh sticks up the whole bloody ship, I wilna be thrown to the sea, like a bone to a dog”

“You’re not gonna die Geillis, it’s only 3 more weeks till the captains said we'll see land. If you die on this ship, I swear to you I’ll kill you” My remark managed to stifle a chuckle from Geillis’s sickly body. She smiled at me, and then her moment of peace was over: she went back to being sick almost immediately. I never found myself in the comfort of women, but Geillis was like a sister to me. Spending a month at sea in tight quarters did that to a friendship.

Geillis wasn’t the only friend I made on the ship. To my left sat 15 year old Mary Hawkins, the youngest of the maids. Mary was just… small. A small frame and small face were the most startling of her features, and the month on the ship caused an almost deadly thinning of her figure. When she spoke, the words came in small stutters, and any movement made her jump. When I first saw her I wondered how Mary could have thought she could survive the trek across the ocean; that was, until I found out being a maid was her father’s scheme. After finding this out, a sisterly urge surged inside me, and I was her protector on the voyage ever since. And as her protector, I saw her shivering as I helped Geillis, and moved my arm from Geillis’s back to around Mary’s shoulders. She gladly nestled herself into my side, but the shaking didn’t stop.

“A-am I going to die here, C-Claire?” She stuttered out. I quickly shook my head and turned to look down at her. I saw tears running down her face, but she didn’t look me in the eyes. She kept her gaze on the wall across from us, where a woman who looked the most sick of all rested her head. She didn’t look alive anymore, but with closer examination I saw her chest rose ever so slightly. I made a mental note to check on her later, if she hadn’t already died. So far, 34 women have died. While the cause of death varied from maid to maid, it was all from the same sickness that plagued our ship since the beginning of the second week aboard. Not all the women were victims, but the ones that were died swiftly and in immense pain. But, for every maid that died here, the same amount of men were left without a bride, and that would mean another wave of maids. I couldn’t imagine putting more girls through this hell. I was fortunate to be well, and above all else, alive.

“No, you’re not. You’re gonna leave the ship with us and meet your husband.” I rubbed Mary’s shoulders gently. I felt her breath loosen, and she slumped slightly. Good, I thought. She fell asleep

I then stayed with Geillis until her nausea faded. After cleaning her up using my dress as a rag, I laid her down and watched her drift to sleep. I touched my hand to her forehead, and was thankful for not feeling any unusual temperature. I removed my arm from Mary’s shoulders, and slowly set her down near Geillis’ head. I tucked a small bag of grain beneath both of their heads, and thankfully none of them awoke from their slumber. I looked across the cabin and saw the pale woman from before. She hadn’t changed positions, but her chest still rose and fell like before. I moved in front of her, and placed my hand on her forehead. Hot. Burning hot. I shook her awake, and when she opened her eyes, they were bloodshot.

“Will... you tell my husband that I’m sorry I wasn’t able to make it” The sentence flowed out like any other statement, but the meaning behind it was darker.. She was a young woman, nearly 23 I guessed. Her hair was a soft blonde, and she had a pleasing aura about her. I could also tell she was quite pretty, underneath the sweat and sickness. Her hair stuck around her face, but she had the complexion of a sheet of paper. She was transparent, the veins of her body stuck out harshly against her pale face. When she spoke, it came out in a low whisper, as if her body didn’t have the willpower to use any strength.

“I’m Faith” She flashed a quick but weak attempt at a smile. I wished there was something I could do, to give her the strength that had saved me these past weeks. I reached beside her to grab a rag, in hopes of maybe wiping away the heat, but she put her hands over mine.

“Make the new world good for us” She spoke, before closing her eyes. Everything happened so suddenly, I could barely register it all. The minute she closed her eyes, any color that was left in her face disappeared. The rising of her chest stopped, and a hand fell limply from mine.

I removed myself immediately, and sat next to Geillis. She stirred in her sleep before sitting up, tired. She must’ve heard what had happened, because just as I sat down she put her arm around mine. I wanted to cry, to feel some kind of pity for the woman, but nothing came out. ‘You should mourn her’ my brain told me but how could I? I just met her.

I didn’t have time to be like this. In a few short weeks we would be on the island with the men, living in the new world. Instead of feeling pity, I felt a sense of guilt. Out of nearly 100 women, only a few would step off this ship and into a new life. And I was one of them. Why did I get the luxury? I wasn’t ever a quiet, obeying miss, and I don’t think I could ever be. Why did god and those above think me fit to take on the responsibility of marriage? Faith would’ve probably made a fantastic wife, but here she lies dead by my feet and I am still breathing.

These thoughts ran rampant in my mind, so much so they exhausted me, and I felt myself roused into a deep slumber, with Geillis’ arm still around me and the soft breathing of the living filling my ears, reminding me I was still alive, that we all were. We bore the weight and responsibility of those who didn’t live, it was our job to make the new world good and prosperous.

- - - - - - - - - -

Hello everyone! This is my first chapter of a fanfiction I’m looking forward to writing! I’m a fairly new author so if everyone could be kind/give solid constructive criticism, that would be amazing! I’m looking forward to hopefully releasing more chapters later on!

#outlander fanfic #Outlander #Claire Beauchamp #Claire Fraser #james alexander malcolm mackenzie fraser #Jamie Fraser #jamestown au #Outlander AU #Outlanderrr #;maids to wives #;my_works

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kaileeandag · 3 years

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Meet Emma Nakahara!

Meet my newest American Girl OC. Hope you guys like her.

Full Name Emma Akane Nakahara

Born September 3, 1992

Nickname(s) Emmy, Akane (by her grandparents)

Series Location Springvale, Maine

Series Timeline August 2003 to February 2005

Father Osamu Nakahara

Mother Jen Takamatsu

Uncle(s) Jack Kessler Tetsuo Nakahara Shizuo Orihara

Aunt(s) Cynthia Kessler Minako Nakahara (deceased prior to the start of the series) Mary Orihara (her mom’s older fraternal twin sister)

Grandparents Kanae Takamatsu (maternal) Shōtarō Takamatsu (maternal)

Cousin(s) -Alois Kessler (Cindy’s stepson, Cindy adopted him and his sister Melanie in 2002) -Melanie Kessler (Cindy’s stepdaughter, Cindy adopted her and her brother Alois in 2002) -Faith Kessler (Cindy and Jack’s only child together) -Kimberly Kessler (biologically related, adopted by Jack in 2002 at the same time that Cindy adopted Jack’s kids) Mayu Nakahara Allison Orihara

Best Friend Jenna Eskola

Noted Friends and Peers Alana Ashman Amy Perkins Madison Porter Tammy Hall Mariana Fazekas Amber Hewitt Alicia Nakamura

Other facts: -met her best friend Jenna in 1st grade. -Emma is a fan of the Japanese poet Chūya Nakahara. Her grandmother Kanae would often read his poems to her whenever she would visit Maine. Emma would receive a book of Nakahara’s poems translated into English for Christmas in 2003. -she is also a fan of the author Osamu Dazai. Owns the following books by the author: -No Longer Human -Blue Bamboo: Tales of Fantasy and Romance -is a 6th grader at Carl J. Lamb School at the start of her series. -her favorite thing to make with her father is Omurice, a Japanese omelette made with fried rice and thin, fried scrambled eggs. -her favorite bands are Silverchair, Chevelle, and Mudvayne. -her most prized possession is the Japanese exclusive Friends Forever Reina doll. Her grandfather bought this doll for her when he went with Emma and her parents to Tokyo in the summer of 1999. The doll was purchased from a Toys R Us store in the Ikebukuro district in Tokyo. -was a big fan of the Cinderella Castle Mystery Tour attraction when she went to Tokyo Disneyland in 1999, mostly due to it featuring the Horned King, the main villain from one of her favorite movies, The Black Cauldron.

#american girl #american girl doll #American Girl dolls #american girl oc #american girl fan character

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takemeawaytocamelot · 7 years

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Awkward Conversations - Teenage AU

Anonymous asked: I love a cute teenage Claire and Jamie ! Number 15 or 16 please (:

15 - Hope we don’t get caught kiss; 16 - Naughty kiss

Here you go, @outlandishchridhe! Shout out to @diversemediums for helping beta this. I don’t have time to link this to the other story at the moment, but I’ll update it soon. Enjoy!

I wait for just the right moment. Her group of friends is coming down the hall and I see her, standing a little taller than the rest. As they pass by my hiding spot, I reach out and grab her. I clamp a hand over her mouth before she gets to screamin’.

“Jamie!” she whispers harshly, hitting me in the chest. “What the hell was that?”

“Weel… I couldna kiss ye wi’ all those other girls about, now could I?”

“Oh, is that why we’re hiding in a closet?”

I nod and tilt her face up, just a little, and met her lips wi’ my own. I hear her bag drop to the floor a moment later before her arms wrapped around my neck. Eager to hold her closer, I let my own arms slide beneath her uniform coat. I kent a lot of my mates liked that the girls wore skirts, but I hadna really cared. No’ until I began noticin’ Claire. No’ until I saw her beautiful legs beneath the pleats, how it swung about her knees, how the skirt hinted at the perfect shape of her arse…

My back hits a shelf and I hear things fall, but I dinna care. No’ wi’ the way Claire’s pressin’ against me. Christ! Her body is soft and warm and so… curvy! I just want to touch her everywhere. She’s certainly gotten verra good at kissing. So good I canna hold back a moan as her tongue darts out to taste me, delicate and teasing.

“That’s no’ verra nice, Sassenach,” I mutter quietly to her.

All I get in return is a smirk as her body moves against mine. I canna help but let my hand slide down to hold her round rump. She makes a small sound in the back of her throat, nearly a purr, and I squeeze. Claire is nearly climbing me and I canna bring myself to stop her. I ken we’re both late for our lessons, but…

The door suddenly opens and Claire lurches away from me. Her uniform is rumpled and her skirt isna sitting right. We’re both breathin’ a bit hard and her lips are verra red. I ken my trousers dinna hide much, though Claire is blocking me from the sight of whoever opened the door.

“Mister Fraser and Miss Beauchamp,” says a sharp, shrill voice.

Damn it.

“Aye, Headmistress,” I say, lowering my eyes.

“Are ye both an item, then?”

“I don’t see how that’s your business,” Claire says, though her confidence doesna come through her voice as she’d hoped.

Our headmistress, Mrs. McCarthy, lifts one eyebrow at her.

“Oh? What my students do when they’re skipping classes isna my business, then? Miss Beauchamp, I believe ye’ve been here long enough to know how I run my school.”

I can see Claire’s cheeks burnin’ verra red.

“I’m verra sorry, Mrs. McCarthy. It willna happen again.”

Bright blue eyes narrow at us and she steps aside, motioning for us to leave. I grab Claire’s bag and follow her out, keeping my head down.

“This isna the first time either of ye have been late this term,” she says, walking briskly behind us. “I’ve been watching your attendance. A few of your instructors have expressed concern, especially for you, Miss Beauchamp.”

“Oh God…” Claire mutters beside me.

I take her hand and squeeze it briefly before letting her go.

“I’m afraid,” Mrs. McCarthy says, stopping by one of our rooms. “I’ll have to send a letter home with each of ye. Mister Fraser, I’ll need both of your parents to sign it and return it to me before your first class tomorrow. Miss Beauchamp, I’ll need your uncle to sign it.”

“Yes, Headmistress,” Claire says meekly.

Mrs. McCarthy holds open the door for Claire and smiled.

“I’ll see ye both get the letters before the end of day.”

Claire shuffles into her class, no’ lookin’ back at me. I follow our headmistress to my own class and sit in the back. But I canna seem to focus on what we’re doin’. All I can think of is how I’d felt, holding Claire so close.

Da always taught me to respect the women in my life, to treat them kindly and no’ take advantage. I wasna taking advantage of Claire, and I’d been respectful, but… What might ha’ happened if Mrs. McCarthy hadna discovered us? I kent that I loved her, that I wanted to be wi’ her, but no’ like that. Perhaps I should have a talk wi’ my Da… Weel… That would be happening no matter what, now.

~~~~~~~

Claire

Jamie usually waits for me after school is done and walks me to my car, but I can’t look at him. Not yet. God, we’d been caught by our bloody headmistress and now I had to give a note to my uncle to sign.

“Are you alright, Claire?” Lamb asks as I slide into the seat.

“Fine.”

“Where’s that Scottish brute of yours?”

I shrug, unwilling to look up. I can feel Jamie’s eyes on me, but I know he’ll give me space. Uncle Lamb pulls away from the school and onto the road, heading home. There’s no point hiding it from him, since I need him to sign the note. Lying isn’t an option, not with my ‘glass face’.

“I have something I need you to sign.”

“Another school field trip?”

I shake my head, digging the letter out of my bag.

“No, um… Well, you know I’ve been seeing a bit more of Jamie?”

My uncle snorts and his grip on the steering wheel tightens.

“Yes, I’ve noticed that. Have you made it official then?”

“I don’t know. Jamie hasn’t asked me to be his girlfriend or anything, but… Well… We got caught snogging in closet and now you have to sign a letter because our headmistress was upset we were late to classes,” I finish in a rush.

Uncle Lamb almost slams the brakes in the car, but manages to keep a hold of himself. Once we get home, I know he’ll want to have a long, serious talk.

“Snogging, eh?”

“Yes…”

The rest of our drive is quiet, which only makes it worse. My lips burn in remembered kisses, the feeling of his hands on my backside. Bloody Christ, I wanted to feel those big, strong hands on me again.

Uncle Lamb reads the letter and signs it, but holds it and meets my eyes.

“Have a seat, Claire.”

“I’ve been through biology, Uncle Lamb,” I say hastily, desperate to avoid that talk again. “I know how babies are made.”

He rolls his eyes.

“That’s not what we’re here to talk about. I need to know what you’re doing with this boy. If it’s serious. Your parents wanted you to be happy, Claire. I know it’s hard for you, without them to ask. It’s hard for me too. Since they’re not here, the job falls to me.”

“I know, Uncle Lamb.”

“So, tell me about him, what his intentions are.”

So I sit back on the couch and tell my uncle about Jamie Fraser: our kiss at the cinema, when I’d lied about going to Amy’s house to study, the times we’d been late to classes. All of it.

“Well,” Lamb said, sighing and looking me over. “I’ll have to ground you for lying to me, and sneaking out. But your grades haven’t slipped, so I’m not worried about that. Listen to me Claire… Snogging with a boy in a closet is one thing. But if he’s not promised you that you’re the only girl he’s snogging in a closet, I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

Some part of me is sure he’s right. Jamie hasn’t made our relationship official. As far as I knew, his family didn’t even know about me.

“He said I was the only one he’d been like this with.”

“Boys his age will say all sorts of things to get under your skirts.”

“But he hasn’t… I mean, we haven’t…”

Uncle Lamb smiles at me.

“I think it’s time I officially meet this Scot of yours.”

“Alright.”

“And if there’s going to be more snogging, you’d better be the only one he’s doing it with.”

“Uncle Lamb!”

My face is burning, I know it’s bright red. I’m never going to be able to look anyone in the eye ever again.

“Um… How long am I grounded?”

“I’ll let you know when I decide.”

I nod and take my bag to my room, ready to focus on schoolwork to avoid the awkwardness of that conversation.

~~~~~

Jamie

I ken I should have told Da when I got in the car. I should have told him the drive up to the house. But I was a coward and didna say a word. When he parked the car, I stayed in my seat.

“Jamie? What is it, lad?” Da asks.

“Da… Can I ask ye somethin’?”

“Of course, Jamie. Ye ken ye can always ask me or mam anything.”

I try to smooth a crase in my trousers, suddenly nervous and unsure what to say.

“Ye… Ye taught me to respect women and to treat them wi’ kindness and gentleness. But… What does that mean? When you’re wi’ a girl and… How do… I dinna ken…”

Thankfully, Da takes pity on my struggle. He smiles and pats my shoulder.

“This would be about Claire, aye?”

“Aye.”

“Weel… Respectin’ her is no’ pushin’ her for something she isna ready for. Even if she thinks she’s ready, she might not be. It’s about settin’ boundaries for the both of ye and no’ lettin’ either one of ye cross them. It’s making sure you’re both on the same page in regards to your relationship.”

Damn it! I didna even think of that. I’ve never asked her to be my girlfriend, I sort of just assumed she was. But I havena made it official. Da’s never met her, neither has mam. Hell, I’ve never met her uncle.

“Ah…”

“James Fraser… What have ye done?”

“Nothing!”

I don’t yelp… but it’s close.

“Dinna make me use your full name, James.”

“I… Weel… I might have got caught snogging Claire in the closet…”

“James Alexander…” Da says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

I begin picking at a callus on my hand to avoid looking at him.

“I have a letter from Mrs. McCarthy ye and mam need to sign. I dinna ken what it says. But… I was thinkin’... Maybe it wasna a bad thing that we got caught. I dinna ken what might ha’ happened if…”

“Oh aye?”

“I think… Weel I think I love her. I want to be the man ye raised me to be, but I dinna ken how. I canna think straight around her. And I certainly canna think straight when I kiss her. Worse when she kisses back.”

Da sighs and opens the door. I take a moment, but follow him up to the house.

“I think we need to talk to mam,” Da says. “And I think it’s high time ye bring your lass to meet the family.”

Despite the terror growing in my chest, I smile.

“Aye, I think that’s a good idea. I think ye and mam will like her. I’m no’ sure how Willie will be, but she’s a wonderful girl.”

“Aye,” Da says. “I ken, if she’s caught your eye like this. Go up and give mam your letter. I’ll sign it after she does.”

I run up the stairs to find Mam before Willie can catch me.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #teenage jamie and claire #also featuring: uncle lamb #also featuring: brian fraser #takemeawaytocamelot #diversemediums

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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From Bridgerton to Sanditon—Putting Island Queen in a Period Drama Context

https://ift.tt/3dpMXo9

This article contains book spoilers for Island Queen and a trigger warning for racism and sexual assault.

Caribbean history is often ignored in US discussions of the era, despite myself and many other Americans having ancestry from this part of the world. Jane Austen’s Mansfield Park has extended references to Caribbean slavery but many adaptations sidestep these implications or briefly address them before moving back to the white main characters. In addition, the focus is often on male leaders of rebellions such as Toussaint L’Overture leading the Haitian rebellion, or on women with island ancestry such as Dido Elizabeth from the movie Belle living in England. All are written by white novelists and screenwriters who miss cultural nuances and are unaware of subconscious bias. Island Queen, Vanessa Riley’s latest foray into Black historical fiction reveals a hidden figure of Caribbean history. Dorothy Kirwan was born into slavery in Montserrat, but secured her own freedom by becoming an astute businesswoman.

Riley’s novel takes readers on a complex but emotionally fufilling journey which brings up serious historical questions on slavery, class, gender, and business ethics during the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Riley’s novel is the answer for fans who feel recent historical dramas prioritize varying levels of whitewashing or escapism over featuring real Black history.

Kirwan’s story has incredible relevance today as many look to understand the enduring legacies of British colonialism and the slave trade in the late 18th and early 19th Century. Her diary does not exist but Riley assembled birth records and other primary sources to trace her life. This is in contrast to sources such as the anonymously published novel The Woman Of Colour which historians are still looking to corroborate authorship and connections to real Caribbean figures. Kirwan at times the mirror image of the fictionalized story of July from The Long Song, but there are also flash points of difference along class and timeframe context. July was born roughly 50 years later than Kirwan in Jamaica. In addition, Dorothy’s life journey takes the reader from Montserrat to Demerara (off the coast of modern day Guyana), Grenada, and Dominica. Most importantly, Riley is an Caribbean-American writer while Andrea Levy wrote The Long Song for Black British readers.

Dorothy’s in-character first person narration is the glue that holds the story together through frequent flashbacks to her childhood and young adulthood to her life in 1824 as a grandmother. The main theme of self-determination in a world where rich white men decide the rules everyone must play keeps the reader engaged even when it is not clear where the plot is heading. In the present plot, Dorothy has returned to London after many years away to petition colonial leaders to retain hard-won rights for Black and biracial women in Demerara. These unequal laws threaten Dorothy’s children and grandchildren and could even take away the freedom and inheritance she has spent her whole life to build.

Bridgerton’s critics will find solace in Island Queen. Those who wanted the Black aristocracy of Haiti and other Caribbean islands featured in the series will find this history at the center. Kirwan navigates a world with inherent inequality, despite how much she has achieved in property ownership and savings. When she interacts with British and colonial elites, they never treat her as if she has power over them. The racial caste system in existence influences all of her interactions. After a breakup, she takes up an offer from Prince William (Queen Victoria’s uncle who died with no legitimate heirs) to travel with him on his ship. In Dorothy’s story, he provides a temporary emotional distraction but also a recognition that she would never fit into the British elite because of her skin color and island background. Unlike Queen Charlotte in Bridgerton, the real prejudices of the era held Dorothy back from ascending completely into the highest levels of royal society. Riley’s narrative, especially, ignores what could have been and shows readers the truth.

These rich white men who placed artificial limits on Dorothy were also the source for young Alexander Hamilton’s childhood poverty. However, his solution as featured in the opening song of Hamilton was to leave the islands to pursue his education in America. This was an option steeped in male and to an extent white privilege as women at this point in history were not allowed to attend college. In addition, American society had already enacted severe restrictions in the rights of free people of color. Hamilton also was an orphan. Dorothy’s parents and her children kept her rooted to the Caribbean.

The road to Dorothy acquiring a thriving business and heirs was lengthy and arduous, and Riley does not sugar coat the dynamics at play in her life. Kirwan’s mother was a slave and her father owned a plantation. The more percentage of white ancestry you have in your blood, the more freedom and rights you have. In her teenage years, Dorothy’s white half-brother Nicholas rapes her and she ends up giving birth to a daughter. Dorothy is forced to run away with a trusted friend to another island and has to leave her daughter behind. This is the beginning of many sacrifices she makes in order to protect her family.

Although many readers may object to Riley portraying incest and sexual assault, the historical research makes this clear that this was the reality for women in slave societies. Dorothy’s narration is carefully crafted to show not only the trauma of the event, but her processing the trauma. For Dorothy, healing comes in the form of survival. The objective isn’t exploitation or the male gaze, but to illuminate ignored history and the intersection of race and gender in sexual power dynamics. Dorothy has to repeatedly establish consent and trust in a world where her partners can and will refuse to agree to those terms. The debate over rape culture in historical fiction revolves around characters that are fictional facing fictionalized situations, especially in the TV adaptations of Outlander and Bridgerton. Additionally, Outlander has sidestepped any serious contemplation of exploitation dynamics in slave societies despite plots featuring 8th Century Jamaica and North Carolina. It is difficult to apply this same critique to Riley’s novel as her intention is historical recreation and reconstruction of Kirwan’s life story.

Riley’s explanation and contextualization of race and gender dynamics is something many viewers wanted the first season of British historical drama Sanditon to address, past the show alluding to Georgiana’s ancestry and £100,000 inheritance. In fact, Riley explains in the Author’s Note that the journey to finding Dorothy Kirwan began with figuring out who the real Miss Lambe could have been over a decade ago. For Georgiana to have that kind of wealth, she would have had to have a white male ancestor willing and able to use the law to secure her freedom. Sidney’s connection to Georgiana as her legal ward isn’t clear, representing a missed opportunity that erodes the story’s worldbuilding. Dorothy’s explanation of social rankings and her own background means it is highly likely Georgiana is the product of a relationship between a white planter and an enslaved or indentured woman. Georgiana isn’t the only example of an fictional heir from the islands around this time period. Rhoda Swartz from Vanity Fair has Black and Jewish ancestry along with thousands of pounds. Island Queen has the space and interest to completely center the story of women like Georgiana and Rhoda position from the perspective of a Black writer and historian.

Dorothy also reveals through her life experiences that interracial relationships with unequal power dynamics were often one of the only ways enslaved Black and biracial women could gain their freedom. In stark contrast to America during the late 18th Century, interracial relationships were never officially outlawed, but it was very rare for white men to officially marry women of color. More often, these women were mistresses and concubines, and any children from these relationships legally belonged to the father. Any relationship an enslaved woman undertook carried the risk of losing her children, with her past often used as a weapon of misogynoir, or simultaneous racist and sexist discrimination.

One plot line unites Island Queen and The Long Song: both July and Dorothy lose a daughter to their white slave holding father who wanted to raise them in England. This trauma drives July to poverty while Dorothy had to wrestle the trauma alongside her mission to to fight to secure manumission papers for her children and also to develop a source of income that cannot be controlled by the men in her life.

How The Long Song Spotlights Ignored Black Caribbean History

By Amanda-Rae Prescott

Books

How Bridgerton Season 2 Can Improve On Season 1

By Amanda-Rae Prescott

At one point, she engages in survival sex work, then finds work as a housekeeper. Eventually, she is able to start her own housekeeping and domestic worker agency. She was well aware that some of her employees would choose to have relations with their bosses, but she made sure that she was not seen as a brothel owner for legal reasons. This is in stark contrast to some of the characters from Harlots on Hulu where brothel ownership or their sex worker status was an open secret.This is another area where Black women would suffer worse consequences for perceived immorality in society compared to white women. In fact, rumors of sex work follow her Dorothy doesn’t intefere if her housekeepers decide to engage in sex work but she insists on mutual consent. Riley does not apply any modern notions of slut-shaming or anti-sex-worker rhetoric. The reader understands that options for women’s employment outside of domestic service in these island colonies were severely limited.

Dorothy’s narrative exposes both vulnerability in her relationships with her children and her significant others and also in her resolve to maintain her status. Far too often, Black women in historical fiction are reduced to tropes such as the “strong Black woman” that are not realistic to historical or modern readers. Or even worse, authors who completely erase the presence of Black women in the late Georgian and Regency Era by only featuring white women.

The challenge in reading Island Queen for those uninitiated in Caribbean history of this era is to separate our modern historical knowledge from the reality Dorothy faces. Although Riley’s narrative does not make excuses for her questionable decisions, the narration makes clear that Dortothy is navigating a racist, sexist and classist society. Part of Dorothy’s later wealth comes from owning slaves. This was not a decision based on wanting to inflict cruelty, but due to the power dynamics in colonial society which punished those who refused to participate in the slave trade. Dorothy opposes slavery but also realize that open rebellion will cost her life or the lives of those around her. She is not isolated from the violence of slave rebellions and of the consequences of suppression. Riley in the Author’s Note says Kirwan freed all of her slaves in 1833 when slavery in Demerara was officially outlawed.

Dorothy’s narrative may have the background makings of a tragedy, but Riley reveals that her life was ultimately a success. Kirwan built her business and eventually reunited most members of her family. She even saw her children marry successfully and met several of her grandchildren. None of her children lived in poverty and she prevented all of them from working as slaves. While some may wish her various relationships could have created a permanent happy ever after, the real satisfaction comes from seeing Kirwan preserve her legacy for the next generation. Real Black historical stories such as Kirwan’s are incredibly rare in US and UK media as wholly fictional composite characters dominate existing period dramas and historical fiction novels. Island Queen, if enough people read it, could become a TV or movie adaptation that would give viewers the real truths of late 18th Century/Regency Era Caribbean history. The genre is overdue for a biography adaptation led by Black writers without the white gaze.

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Island Queen will be available in bookstores July 6th. You can order the book here.

The post From Bridgerton to Sanditon—Putting Island Queen in a Period Drama Context appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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