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bantarleton · 9 months

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Who Were the "Hessians"?

A good article from Facebook by Dr Alex Burns;

Myth 1): German troops were all Hessians.

Although most came from the mid-sized German state of Hessen-Kassel, troops from six different principalities (Hessen-Kassel, Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel, Hessen-Hanau, Ansbach-Bayreuth, Waldeck, and Anhalt-Zerbst.) Indeed, the current leading progressive reenactment group portraying these soldiers represents Regiment Prinz Friedrich, essentially a garrison unit from Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel.

If you include the larger, global war outside America, fought in places like Gibraltar and India, troops from the state of Hanover (Braunschweig-Lüneburg) also fought for the British outside of the Holy Roman Empire (the pre-German territorial entity.) So, while over 60% of these troops came from Hessen, they really hailed from all over the western and central Holy Roman Empire. As a result, it might be better to call them something other than Hessians. "Germanic" has been put forward, but that usually conjures up images of the fall of the Western Roman Empire.

Myth 2): They were mercenaries.

Imagine you are a soldier in the United States Army, serving in West Germany during the Cold War. You are stationed there because of longstanding agreements and alliances, which stretch back decades. The United States Government and the West German government have a financial understanding that helps maintain your presence in the region. Are you a mercenary? The situation was very similar for the German-speaking soldiers who fought in the American War of Independence, They had a longstanding relationship with Great Britain, stretching back decades. They had fought with alongside the British since the 1690s, both in continental Europe and in the British isles. As a result of the Hanoverian succession in 1714 (the British Royal family was drawn from Hanover) they had longstanding marriage connections with Great Britain. Horace Walpole, a British politician from the 1730s, referred to the Hessians as the Triarii of Great Britain.

These soldiers did not personally or corporately take on contracts from the British. they were members of state militaries: their governments were paid a subsidy by the British in order to fight in their wars. Frederick II (the Great) of Prussia, received subsidies from the British during the Seven Years War. As a result, the modern German term for these troops is *Subsidientruppen, *or subsidy troops. **Thus, it might be better to speak of the German-speaking subsidy troops, as opposed to calling them Hessians, or mercenaries. **Historians have argued that it might be fitting to call their countries "mercenary states". This is different from saying they were mercenaries.

Myth 3): They were sold to America because their princes were greedy and wanted to build palaces and pay for their illegitimate children.

The princes of the Western Holy Roman Empire lived in an incredibly dangerous world during the eighteenth century. Their territories were small, rural, principalities, trapped between the military giants of France, Austria, and Prussia. As a result, from the 1670s, these princes attempted to use subsidy contracts to build themselves larger armies, in order to preserve their independence. These subsidy contracts were a standard feature of European politics, diplomacy, and conflict resolution. They allowed the princes to better protect their small domains. None of the princes who formed subsidy contracts with Britain during the American War of Independence were doing something radically new or greedy. Instead, they were following on decades of practice which had allowed them to maintain their own independence. The Hessian (Hessen-Kassel) Landgraf Friedrich II actually used the funds from the contract, in part, to promote economic development and the textile industry in his territories. **Some of them had illegitimate children. Some had palaces. Portraying them as sex-crazed misers limits our understanding of the economic and security necessities which actually underpinned their subsidy policies. **Following the long-standing practices of their governments, princes in the Western Holy Roman Empire entered subsidy agreements to maintain the costs of their states.

Myth 4): They committed many brutal war-crimes in America.

The subsidy troops had been used in messy civil conflicts before. Hessian troops were used against the Jacobites in 1745-6, where they remarkably refused to take part in the repression against the Scottish Jacobites. Their troops were remembered in Perthshire, Scotland, as "a gentle race," and their commanding Prince (Friedrich II) declared, "My Hessians and I have been called to fight the enemies of the British crown, but never will we consent to hang or torture in its name." (Duffy, *Best of Enemies, *p. 133). English officers in the Seven Years War, noted that their troops were reprimanded for plundering more than Hessian forces. (Atwood, *The Hessians, *p. 173). In North America during the War of Independence, the Hessians once again behaved better than their British counterparts. Although there was a surge of fear about Hessian brutality early in the war, after the first few years of the war, Americans believed that the Hessians treated them better than British soldiers. Aaron Burr wrote of Hessian atrocities: "Various have been the reports concerning the barbarities committed by the Hessians, most of them [are] incredible and false." (Matthew Davis, *Memoirs of Aaron Burr, *Vol 1. p. 107). Comparing the brutality of the Napoleonic Wars with the American War of Independence, a Hessian veteran who served in both wars commented: "Everything which the author has subsequently seen in this regard greatly exceeds what one should term cruelty in America, which in comparison with more recent times, can be regarded as nothing more than a harmless puppet show." (Adam Ludwig von Ochs, *Betrachtungen Ueber die Kriegkunst, *60-61.) Hessian troops committed crimes in America, there is no doubt. What is clear is that these crimes were not excessive for an eighteenth-century conflict.

Myth 5): Many of them deserted to America, where life was better.

Many Americans claim Hessian ancestry. As a result, it is common to encounter the sentiment that these "mercenary" troops were simply waiting to switch sides. In reality, most of these troops returned to their homelands in the Holy Roman Empire. A very small number switched sides before the end of the war, a larger (but still small) percentage elected to remain in America after the war ended in 1783. Far from being an act of rebellion, the princes encouraged their subsidy troops to remain in America if they desire: this would cut costs, and make the process of slashing the military budget easier in peacetime. Most returned to celebrations, public parades, and being welcomed by loved ones. For more on exact data of desertions, as well as the subsidy-troops' return home, see Daniel Krebs' book, *A Generous and Merciful Enemy. *The majority of these troops remained loyal to their princes, and returned home to their own native lands.

Who Were the Hessians?

The experience of 37,000 soldiers mainly drawn from six small counties is not all one thing. There are elements of truth to each of the myths about the Hessians, but their story is more complex than the myths that are told about them in English-speaking circles in North America. They were drawn from a fascinating world in Central Europe with its own customs, practices, and traditions. They entered the American story, and as a result, it is worth taking the time to understand and remember their path in it in a complex way.

A "Hessian" Reading List:

Rodney Atwood: "The Hessians: Mercenaries from Hessen-Kassel in the American Revolution"

Friedrike Baer: "Hessians: German Soldiers in the American Revolutionary War"

Stephan Huck: "Soldaten gegen Nordamerika Lebenswelten Braunschweiger Subsidientruppen im amerikanischen Unabhängigkeitskrieg"

Charles Ingrao: "The Hessian Mercenary State: Ideas, Institutions, and Reform under Frederick II, 1760–1785"

Daniel Krebs: "A Generous and Merciful Enemy: Life for German Prisoners of War during the American Revolution"

#history #military history #18th century #american revolution #revwar #american war of independence #hessian #hessians #german

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blackswaneuroparedux · 1 year

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James Bond: I admire your courage, Miss…? Sylvia Trench: Trench. Sylvia Trench. I admire your luck, Mr…? James Bond: Bond. James Bond.

- Dr. No (1962)

During the Casino scene at Le Cercle (Les Ambassadeurs Club), James Bond plays a game of chemin de fer using cash plaques. It’s in the middle of a game against Sylvia Trench (Eunice Gayson), he utters the line that will immortalise the entire Bond saga, “Bond… James Bond”. After beating her several times, 007 uses his charm to invite the young woman into his room. Sylvia thus becomes the very first James Bond girl.

Les Ambassadeurs Casino was established in 1941 by John Mills, a Polish immigrant, on Hanover Square before moving to Hamilton Place in 1950. At the dawn of World War II, the Pole left his homeland for England. Previously a member of a Polish commando unit and an intelligence officer in Portugal, the man founded Les Ambassadeurs Casino.

Nicknamed “The A’s” by its patrons, the establishment was first located in Hanover Square and then in Hamilton Place, the first building having become too small to accommodate all the patrons.

Built in 1810, 5 Hamilton Place was inhabited by aristocrats, the Conynghams, businessman Leopold de Rothschild and Captain Leonard Frank Plugge before being sold to John Mills.

The club was later expanded to include a nightclub and a gaming club, Le Cercle, in 1961. Run by French croupiers, it has been popular with royalty such as Prince Philip, the late Duke of Edinburgh. Sir Christopher Lee, (the actor and future Bond villain, Scaramanga) was a member and kept a bottles of gin with his name on it.

#dr no #james bond #quote #movie #cinema #film #casino #le cercle #les ambassadeurs #london #gambling #chemin de fer #ian fleming #sean connery

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loiladadiani · 9 months

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Princess Alice of Battenberg (Victoria Alice Elizabeth Julia Marie; 1885 – 1969) - Princess of Greece and Denmark

One of her Great-Grandmothers was Queen Victoria; her maternal grandmother was Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse and by Rhine; her mother was Princess Victoria of Hesse and by Rhine, sister of Empress Alexandra Feodorovna of Russia; her father was Prince Louis of Battenberg. Her son was Prince Phillip, consort of Queen Elizabeth II.

She married Prince Andrew of Greece and Denmark

She had five children: Margarita, Princess of Hohenlohe-Langenburg

Theodora, Margravine of Baden

Cecilie, Hereditary Grand Duchess of Hesse

Sophie, Princess George of Hanover

Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh

Alice suffered incredibly through her life, but she did not let that stop her from always thinking of others; she was born with a hearing deficit and her brilliant mother Victoria, taught her to lip read not in one but several languages. She had a husband who preferred to gamble in Montecarlo to being with his wife and children or...anything else. She was diagnosed with squizophrenia (there is no evidence that this was a correct diagnosis even though it was issue by Dr. Freud himself) and her pelvic organs irradiated to produce an early menopause (this was supposed to relieve the symptoms according to the medical thinking of the times). She lost her daughter Cecilie in a plane crash.

Yet, like her grandmother Alice, helping others came to her naturally. Israel gave her the award Righteous Among the Nations, bestowed on people who risked their own lives to help Jewish people survive the Holocaust. She worked for the Swiss Red Cross.

The princess founded a nursing order of Greek Orthodox nuns, the Christian Sisterhood of Martha and Mary, modelled after the convent that her aunt, the martyr Grand Duchess Elizabeth Feodorovna, had founded in Russia in 1909. She dedicated herself to helping others but eventually the order failed because of lack of funds.

And besides all of that, she was beautiful.

She died at Buckingham Palace at the age of 84.

(I have to add something here: Alice's smile in the picture is one of the most open, sweetest, tenderest, and most beautiful smiles I have ever seen. It filled me with awe, and thinking about her life brought tears to my eyes)

#brf #Princess Alice of Greece and Denmark #Prince Phillip #Victoria of battenberg #Louis of Battenberg #Prince Andrew of Greece and Denmark #Grand Duchess Alice of Hesse and By Rhine

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youdieinstantly · 9 months

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The Historical Implications of Henry's Name

So I'm sure that somebody has already written this post, but I haven't come across it yet.

So Henry's surname in the movie has been changed from Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor to Hanover-Stuart-Fox. While this was 100% just done because the irl royal family could sue, it does have interesting implications.

History lesson below the cut but tl;dr: it implies that none of the well-known irl monarchs from the 1700s on existed. Which means that there was no Georgian, Victorian, or Edwardian ages because George, Victoria, and Edward didn't exist.

For this explanation, book history is the real history, as it appears to be unchanged. Movie history is my speculation.

Shared between book and movie: The Stuarts were the house of the monarchy during the 1600s, and were the family who took over after Elizabeth I. There were a TON of succession issues with them stemming from Charles II having no legitimate children. His brother James VII/II (Scotland #/England #) succeded him, and then James' daughters Mary II and Anne were the last Stuart monarchs. Anne lived longer than her only son, and there were no remaining male lines of the Stuart family. To find an heir, they went all the way back to James VI/I, Anne's great-grandfather. His daughter had married into a German royal family, the Hanovers. That's how they became the ruling House of Great Britain with George I.

Reality/book from this point: The house of Hanover then ended with Queen Victoria, who insisted her children take their father's House, Saxe-Coburg and Gotha. That was later renamed to Windsor (after their family castle) because that's a mouthful. The Windsors are the current ruling family.

Movie fiction: There being a house Hanover-Stuart in the movie universe implies that Mary or Anne (or another Stuart daughter) married a Hanover who was not the heir, thus creating a cadet branch of the Hanover family. So George I never became king, but rather one of his younger brothers did. If they married Mary, it's likely they would have been king, as she named her husband co-ruler. If this younger Hanover married Anne, then he would have been prince consort. Either way, one of these two ladies had children and somehow there was a miraculous, unbroken male line until parliament changed the law to allow for female lines to be considered equal. Maybe they did this earlier in this version. #feminism

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb movie #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry hanover stuart fox #ask me about the mountchristian bit I also have meta thoughts on that #preview: they took it out because of stephen fry

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botanical-garden-system · 5 months

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Honestly, this post is going to be a lot about system tropes and stereotypes in shows.

Today I finished watching the show “Ratched” about Nurse Ratched. It was an amazing show- I personally loved it and I loved the color palette that was used. Everything was going quite well until,,, they dropped someone who had DID into the mix.

In case you haven’t watched the show and plan on it, there will be spoilers below!

Every other disorder was not portrayed in extremes, and there was even a scene where the doctor called out Ratched’s “brother” for acting wayy too close to the books of how someone with schizophrenia would act to be seen as “insane.”

Since the show was based in 1940s-1950s, I appreciated that even though they used accurate historical depictions of how ppl treated being gay, they made it CLEAR that this was morally horrible and incorrect.

They did not even ATTEMPT the same thing with someone having DID.

We first get introduced to the character “Charolette Wells” who Dr. Hanover said has “multiple personality disorder” because of her switching between different characters.

Even her introduction made me cringe and seize up with absolute fucking distaste. She is introduced as Ondine Duquette, who harassed an artist for playing a violin and acted aggressive. Charolette, however, was very shy and closed in (she was also treated as the,, “core” basically- which was kind of how they approached DID back then so I kind of tried to shrug it off)

It got even more frustrating when it was ONE session with Dr. Hanover and suddenly she was “cured.” Like Charolette had all control, the “violent alter” was gone, and she was suddenly relieved of her trauma??? BECAUSE OF HYPNOSIS???? I literally held my face in absolute disgust over this shit and this isn’t even the WORST part.

Fast forward to later: Dr. Hanover leaves the hospital because of his past and takes Charolette with her. Well. He pushes her into a trigger again—which I will give the show credit for, I am glad they didn’t stick with the bandaid solution of ONE SESSION of therapy magically making years of trauma go away—and it forces Ondine out again. Who. Also believed Dr. Hanover was. Hitler and that she was killing Hitler…???

So obviously she. Decides to murder Dr. Hanover- which we see Charolette wake up to this in obvious horror bc she doesn’t remember what happened. It just gets worse.

Then later, she comes BACK to the fucking hospital AS Dr. Hanover and she kills one nurse while forcing the OTHER nurse to release the fucking murderer??? After that, she (It’s so unclear who the alter is fronting at the time bc there’s a lot of time switching) literally teams up with this murderer and follows him around killing people????

Onto the rant I wanted to discuss…

This is by far not the first nor last time we have seen this.

We have seen this in popular media that many people like—like fucking danganronpa, where this character loves to use the R slur and be actively racist.

It is an obsession of demonizing mental illness once again. It sucks because now knowing we experience DID makes this trope even harder to enjoy medias with. I love studying psychology, and I already cringe at the absolute bullshit they throw out and label certain disorders. I don’t know why though, but seeing media portrayals around schizophrenia and DID just make my blood boil and anger me to the extra mile.

We are the victims. We are the ones violence is forced on.

Why is it such a fucking obsession??? Honestly, blaming other systems for being the reason we aren’t “taken seriously” is extremely misdirected and false. WE WERE BEING BLAMED FROM THE START!!!

Anyway, I wanted to get this off my chest because it made me fucking mad and it’s also useful for any system who is uncomfortable with this show now because of its decisions.

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petervintonjr · 1 year

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“I was born and raised in the North, and I knew that there was discrimination… but I had never seen that type of hatred on the face of anyone before. It forced me to work harder, to come back and work harder. It forced me to take a good look at people that I knew and what was going on in my own community.”

Today we study the achievements of social justice giant Constance Mitchell, someone who truly understood the intrinsic connection between poverty and racial inequality, and infused that into her every action.

Born in 1928 New Rochelle, New York, little is known of the childhood or coming-of-age years of Constance (“Connie”) Mae Jenkins, but in 1950 she married Louisianan John Mitchell (part of the Great Migration) and moved to Rochester, New York –-the city for which she would forever be associated, despite her initial impression of a place where “people here didn't know how to smile and they weren't friendly at all.” Her first foray into Rochester community activism was as a volunteer with the Delta Ressics, a group of Baden Street Black activists who pushed for better housing and living conditions for migrant farm workers living in shacks near Sodus. She also fought against deplorable living conditions at the Hanover Houses, Rochester’s first low-income apartment complex.

In 1959 at the urging of a fellow Delta Rassick, Walter Cooper, Mitchell ran for --and lost-- a race for a seat on what is now the Monroe County legislature (Ward 3, then known as the Monroe County Board of Supervisors). However she made another run in 1961 and was this time successful, and was then re-elected in 1964: the first woman and the first African-American to be elected to that body --though not without enduring resentment, routine insults and slurs, and even threats from her fellow legislators. From this position she and her husband came into regular contact with such figures as Martin Luther King and Malcolm X, among many other civil rights leaders of the time --even entertaining visits from Malcolm and then-Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy. In the wake of the violent 1964 racial unrest in Rochester, Connie expressed in an interview for Life magazine, “I'm not telling you, I told you so. I'm saying please listen to us." These two terms were the full extent of Connie’s political career but her commitment to civil rights was just getting started: in 1965, she walked alongside Dr. King from Selma to Montgomery, but while this heroic act itself disillusioned her, at the same time it reinvigorated her determination to improves lives and conditions in her own community.

Perhaps one of Mitchell's enduring achievements was the founding of Action for a Better Community, a Rochester-based nonprofit devoted to helping people in low-income areas become more self-sufficient and lift themselves out of poverty. She also worked closely with the United Way and the Urban League of Rochester, and created the Urban League Black Scholars program. In later years (1978 to 1989), she became the Program Director for an initiative called PRISM (Program for Rochester to Interest Students in Science and Mathematics). In 1993 Rochester Mayor Bill Johnson, the first elected Black mayor of that city, credited Connie with inspiring him to get into politics; and in 2013 mayor Lovely Warren, the first Black woman to be elected to that position, similarly credited Connie as a role model.

In February 2017, Mitchell was awarded the Frederick Douglass Medal for outstanding civic engagement by the University of Rochester. She died the following year (2018); today the Monroe Country Office Building bears her name at the Constance Mitchell Concourse.

Read a truly absorbing transcript of a lengthy 2008 interview with Constance and John Mitchell at: https://rbscp.lib.rochester.edu/rbfs-CMitchell

#blacklivesmatter #blm #rochester #conniemitchell #constancemitchell #teachtruth #dothework #black lives matter #constance mitchell

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all-gone-rotten · 2 months

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I’m Marie (they/she). This is my second story mode playthrough of RDR2, this time the goals being to take my time, reach 100% completion, play as low-honor Arthur, and! take! photos!!!

I’m dealing with a lot of mental and chronic health issues and I’ve been very angry about it. Red Dead has been my only outlet to de-stress, but up until recently I didn’t realize I could also use it to, well, really vent. This is coming from someone previously afraid of the – honor bell.

In order to somewhat justify my recent actions, I’ve come up with a story for my Arthur, a take on a Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde-type scenario; in which while attempting to reconcile with his past, after settling in to New Hanover with the gang, Arthur is haunted with the realization that he suddenly doesn’t know himself anymore… and worse, that he can no longer trust himself.

In other words: Arthur Morgan, serial killer. But regretfully. But by choice. Or not. It’s still pretty convoluted at this point. But I digress, I wanted to summarize what I plan to do with this!

I’m documenting my storyline (or AU, since this is practically a glorified fanfic) with pictures from photo mode, and I’m writing passages to go with them. I’m having a lot of fun developing this story (the first “story” I’ve been able to follow through with working on in years) as I play along. Also expect in-game clips, fanart (big maybe), and the occasional non-roleplay post about Red Dead, like Abigail appreciation.

As for content warnings: expect lots of gore and violence, pertaining to the game but potentially in vivid detail thanks to my being a slut for purple prose. And expect a slooooow burn! I want to incorporate the main storyline missions but I’m currently taking my time at the tail end of chapter two. As always, THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR CANON RDR2! (Fuck it, you should know: Jack Marston lives to see adulthood but in the epilogue he goes on this ship and then it gets hit by an iceberg…)

#intro post #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #low honor arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan #daddy!arthur morgan #jk lmao #rdr2 photomode

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blueangeldreamland · 3 months

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Palestine Protests: February 2024

updated: 2/10/2024 source 1 source 2 + extra links at bottom of post :)

Sunday, February 11

ITALY

GENOVA, ITALY – Sun Feb 11, 2 pm, Fanti d’Italia. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C2SZSc7IfAD/

Thursday, February 29

AUSTRALIA

MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA – Thurs Feb 29, 2 pm, State Library (Student Protest for Palestine). Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1JJpq6LShT/

February 10, 2024

Chicago, IL | 11:30AM Hanover Park Train Station

Chicago, IL | 1PM Chicago Tribune Center

CORVALLIS, OR | Noon Benton County Courthouse

LOS ANGELES, CA | 1PM LA City Hall

OAKLAND, CA | 11:30AM Lake Merritt Amphitheater

PETALUMA, CA | 12:30PM Petaluma Blvd and East Washington

RACINE, WI | 12:30PM 909 Dr. Martin Luther King Dr.

SANTA BARBARA, CA | 2PM Hollister & Storke

WASHINGTON, DC | 2PM Lafayette Square

February 11, 2024

REDONDO BEACH, CA | 11AM 1815 Hawthorne Blvd.

SACRAMENTO, CA | 12PM 601 McKinley Park

SAINT LOUIS, MO | 2:30 PM @ Kirkwood Park 111 So. Geyser Rd.

February 14, 2024

PHOENIX, AZ | 4pm. NE Corner of 7th St & McDowell Rd

February 15, 2024

Austin, TX | 10AM Austin City Hall, 301 2nd St

February 16, 2024

EAU CLAIRE, WI | 5:00PM Corner of Hwy 93 and Golf Rd (Outside Hardee’s)

February 18, 2024

NEW ORLEANS, LA | 11:30 AM ARMSTRONG PARK

February 19, 2024

Chicago, IL | 11AM Chicago History Museum, Children’s Fountain

February 25, 2024

SAINT PAUL, MN | 1 PM 1176 N Mississippi River Blvd, St. Paul, MN.

uscpr.org/GazaEmail

https://ceasefiretoday.com/

#palestine protests #protest update 2024 #ceasefirenow

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thena0315 · 1 year

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"So, he’s smart, kind, funny, you enjoy his company, he's good with your kids. What am I missing?" - Dr. Hanover [21x09]

He’s very attractive. He wasn’t when I first met him, but once he shaved his mustache and changed his hairstyle.....he turned out to be very handsome

#Rollisi #Alexis Hanover #Amanda Rollins #Sonny Carisi #SVU #Law and Order SVU #Law and Order Special Victims Unit

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divinegrey · 2 years

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𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐚 / 𝐯𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

got a few requests to write a second part to 'repeat until death' which you can read here because this doesn't really make too much sense without prior knowledge. title inspired by 'pareidolia' by tsuki.

prompt: sabine saved your life, and it leaves you at a crossroads.

words: 1800

warnings: grief, angst with minimal comfort

pareidolia [noun]: the tendency to perceive a specific, often meaningful image in a random or ambiguous pattern.

— — —

You awake, alone, behind glass.

This in itself is not strange.

You wake up, and you’re alive.

That is strange.

You search through the foggy hazy of your memories for the last thing you can find. It’s blurry, the words distant, but you make out the face of Sabine— the Sabine not of your world and instead of Alpha Earth, as they like to call themselves. Sabine, who had carried you away from danger despite you being the enemy.

You hold your side, waiting for the pain of where the knife once sat in your body, but you find there is only soreness and a slight pinch. You feel disorientated from every angle, like the world is spinning around at your feet and you can’t even begin to catch up. There’s a weariness in your bones you’re not used to, and a strange sort of sickness in your stomach that you do recognize.

The kind from being healed by Sage. A lot of healing.

“You’re awake.”

You turn your head to the voice, the warm voice that speaks to you like the sun breaking through the clouds.

“Sabine,” you say breathlessly. Getting to your feet proves to be a bad option; you’re woozy and before you know it, you’re falling back onto the floor.

“Oh, for fuck’s—” Sabine sighs, coming through the door hurriedly and pulling you upright, settling you back on the infirmary bed that you’d been sleeping on. She places her hand on your cheeks, her thumb on one side and her fingers on the other. She looks into your eyes, raising her hand. “Follow my finger.” You do, and then she flashes your eyes with a mini light from her pocket. After you groan, Sabine says, “No signs of a concussion. Still some sluggishness from severe blood loss. I— we almost lost you.”

You blink at her. “We? Sabine, I shouldn’t fucking be here. Why didn’t you let me fucking die?”

Sabine’s gaze steels over. “Because.”

“Oh my god.” You throw your hands up. “You’re so fucking stubborn. Just like you us—”

Your words die out in your throat.

For minutes, only minutes, you’d forgotten the truth of your reality. This woman beside you isn’t your wife, it’s her carbon copy from another planet that you’re currently on. This isn’t the Legion, this is the Protocol. This is a place you shouldn’t be, and this is a woman you shouldn’t be talking to. By all means, you should be killing her.

Never could you bring yourself to hurt Sabine. Never.

You’d rather die before doing that.

You turn your head away. “Should’ve just let me bleed out, Sabine. It wasn’t smart to keep me here.”

Sabine scoffs. “Not even a thank you? Somehow, I feel as though I should’ve predicted that.”

“What did you think I was going to say? Thank you for taking me away from my home planet?” You shake your head, curling your body in on yourself. “Bullshit.”

“Atlas,” Sabine says. “You don’t exist here on this Earth.”

Wait. What?

“At least, not anymore,” Sabine continues, rubbing her hands together on her lap. “Cypher searched high and low for a name to match your face, and we found one. Belonging to a kid, ten years old, by the name of Y/N, child of Dr. Callum Hanover, one of my former employees at Kingdom. Your body was found at the bank of a river, and the case was closed.”

Your heart thunders in your ears. That is your father’s name…

“I’m… dead? What about my twin? Does it say anything about her?” You turn to Sabine, grabbing her arm. Sabine meets your gaze.

“You don’t have one,” Sabine says. “You were an only child.”

Only child?

“I don’t understand,” you say, blinking at the floor. “I don’t— I don’t understand.”

“Neither do we. This is one of the first major discrepancies between our two Earths, one that seems too suspicious to look over,” Sabine says. From your lap, she takes your palms, prompting you to look at her. “I know that if the same thing had happened to your Sabine, if she had run into you dying in the hallway, she would’ve done the same thing. There’s something going on here, Atlas, something that I intend to find out. I don’t give a goddamn fuck about what the others say. There’s something here that needs to be uncovered, and you’re the key to it.”

Your head aches from all of the confusion, all of the words Sabine has just said. You stare down at her hands, rough and dry in the way that they always are because of how much time she spends in the lab. The glint of the ring sitting on your finger, the one that bound you to the Sabine from your Earth (or perhaps, not your Earth at all), shines into your eyes.

The simple truth is that you have nothing left on Omega Earth. There is nothing for you there. No one.

Here…

Here there is Sabine.

“Stay, Atlas,” Sabine whispers. “Stay, and I promise I will do everything I can to figure out why there’s a discrepancy.”

You don’t say anything, not for a few seconds. Your grip on Sabine’s hands grows ever so slightly tighter.

“Do you know—” You force the knot down your throat. “How hard it is to be here? Next to you? Next to the woman that I loved and watched die in my arms? To—”

You cut yourself off. To want to kiss you and hold you and apologize for everything I should’ve done? Grief is something that pulls you headlong into the abyss, roaring up with vitriol and anger that leaves your body dull and aching. You don’t realize it, but a splash of your tears have landed on the back of Sabine’s hand. You wipe it off, muttering a small apology that can’t even begin to rid you of your sins.

“I can’t say I do know,” Sabine whispers, bringing her hand to your face. “And I won’t pretend that I do, Atlas. And I certainly won’t make you stay. I’ll send you off to the nearest teleporter if you so choose— safely— and let you go. But the choice is yours, and yours alone.”

Everything in your body wants to stay. You can be close to Sabine again, but even through your haze of grief and pain, you understand that this Sabine will never be your Sabine, and this Earth isn’t yours to call home. No, your Earth is on the brink of destruction.

“I can’t stay here, Sabine,” you whisper, and the words are like a knife in the air. The small glimmer of hope in Sabine’s eyes is dashed, but there’s an understanding there that cannot be so uniquely explained in the terms of the human language. No, it’s an understanding recognized and forged from years of a relationship. Years of which you did not spend with this woman, but with her copy.

Sabine nods; you don’t miss the disappointment that flashes across her features. Part of you yearns to stay, but you know it would only cause you further heartbreak to be near Sabine but not love her the way that you did.

The way that you do.

“Okay.” Sabine is quiet. “Give me a few minutes, I’ll go tell KJ to boot up the teleporter.”

Sabine doesn’t look at you when she leaves, sealing you behind glass once more, and it hurts in its own strange form.

You’re taken to the teleporter with a bag over your head, but Sabine’s hand on your arm is calming.

Once your veil is removed, you see the blue hue of the teleporter whirring away in front of you.

You exhale softly, pulling the ring off of your hand.

“Keep this,” you say under your breath, pressing it into Sabine’s hand. You turn your head to the scientist, and in any other world, this ceremonial passing of the ring would’ve been something better; something where you would’ve seen Sabine in a white dress and your friends gathered all around you.

But this isn’t your world, this isn’t your place.

Sabine thumbs the ring, looking at the small line of emeralds and green stones embedded on the side and enclosed in silver. Then, she says, “This teleporter is wired to a location in New York City.”

“That’s fine,” you say, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your torn up jacket. “Thank you.”

Sabine stares at you for some time, and you wonder what the repercussions would be if you did what you wanted to do.

But before you can think any more on that train of thought, Sabine wraps her arms around you tightly, knocking the air out of your chest. She hugs you with her arms around your back, and you thread yours around her neck. The smell of her perfume clings to her shirt and for a moment in time, the grief is gone, dulled by Sabine.

You turn your head to the side, feeling her breath on your cheek, and in the whirlpool of emotions stirring in your body, you make a mistake.

You kiss her.

It becomes so very clear that this isn’t your Sabine, this is her copy, but she doesn’t pull away. Sabine allows the kiss to happen, allows for you to imagine that your life hasn’t fallen apart to shreds.

Tears slide down your cheeks. You wipe them away when you step back out of Sabine’s hold. The woman stares at you with something you don’t recognize in her eyes, and that alone terrifies you.

“Sorry. That was not cool of me,” you say, scratching the back of your head. Your voice is thick with emotion. You jerk your thumb to the teleporter. “I should— I should go.”

“Will I see you again?”

Sabine’s question is a weight that is pressed onto your shoulders, and you’re reminded keenly of your namesake; Atlas, the man who held the world on his shoulders.

Sabine was your world. She was all you had, and now she’s gone.

“Sure. Don’t shoot me on sight,” you say, but the words aren’t even close to the truth.

But Sabine doesn’t know how you lie— placated by your answer, she nods, stepping away from the teleporter with your ring in her hand. You give her a salute, forcing your body to step back in the teleporter so that Sabine’s face is the last thing you see.

— — —

New York City is loud.

It always has been, especially since the Dome was made around it.

But it’s a good place to start.

You’re done with the Legion. You’re done with a past that you have no claim to anymore.

You simply are.

Every now and then, as you walk in the streets of New York City, moving from place to place, taking the pain of those who need healing for a pretty penny, you swear you see Sabine’s face.

Maybe in another lifetime, you can try again.

— — —

Sometimes I see you in the streets

Or at least I think I do

Strangers begin to resemble you

Oh, how I wish these sights were true

~~~~~ A/N: Atlas's story isn't quite done, as it seems.

#viper x reader #valorant viper x reader #viper #viper valorant #viper imagines #valorant fanfiction #valorant x reader #valorant #valorant imagines

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illmeowmeowyoutodeath · 6 months

Text

Dialtown Theory about brains and hearts since I wanna complicate things?!?!?!? (I am no doctor so some things will be wrong, alright? Alright. Also beware spelling mistakes and grammar mistakes)

Obviously none of those characters have flesh heads, but like they must have brains (except for Stabby+Shooty /j) so I think that they have some AI System which is like sentient, they also must have a heart cuz yes. But not a real one, a mechanical one instead, reason being that an AI System wouldn't be able to regulate a real heart's heartbeat/heart rate (heart rate is important because the heart's function is important since the heart circulates oxygen and nutrient-rich blood throughout the body. When it's not working properly, just about everything is affected) therefore a mechanical heart is there instead of a real one since this helps to plump blood around the said body. BUT considering this is a game where heads are replaced with object heads, the said blood could be oil, oil can used instead of blood because oil can perhaps be more useful then blood and stops rust from forming since the said AI System and mechanical heart are made out of iron/metal (or some other unknown substance), this is important because if one's phone head gets rusty they can replace the rusty parts but if the "brain" starts to rust then they will die soon. That is because the rust will hinder the ai system's ability to work properly, the AI System wouldn't be able to correctly control the heart because it'll be too focused on trying to remove the rust from it's surface therefore the heart will be left unsupervised and eventually fuck up the heart rate which will cause the death of one. So really, one is technically immortal if their AI System doesn't fall victim to rust (oof). That is one cause of death, this is merely painless since you (well the AI System) are only focused on one thing and not the heart stopping bullshit.

Second version is if one's "heart" gets rusty, with this version one will feel immense pain throughout their last months since the AI System is still intact it'll give the "heart" the instructions to beat and plump oil/blood around the body, however because of the rust the oil/blood isn't good enough or clean anymore and would cause pain since it'll infect organs and such. Eventually, one will either die from oil poisoning (is blood poisoning a thing?) since instead of clean oil it is dirty oil or because of the pain one would kill themselves. Infections and such would also be a cause of death. (Cute!!)

If one's heart or brain is rusty, they can go to see a doctor so then if the brain or heart is rusty they can perform a surgery. For a heart, surgeons would cut one opened and scrape off any rust and put a protective layer anti-rust paint (that is a thing.) For brains, surgeons would find your AI System box in your head (or other places) and scape the rust off, they won't put any protective layers on the AI System box since that'll irritated the ai program, therefore causing your heart to he unsupervised and therefore your death.

The AI System box is a rectangular box full of wires, this is located in the middle of the head for normal rotary phones and typewriters as well printers. With the exceptions for Shooty and Stabby who's AI System box is above their "heart" since specifically for those heads, the AI System is small enough to fit there. Or with Abel who's phone is a candlestick, it is located in the black bakelite and probably slightly smaller in size. With Nathan Hanover, I assume it is located somewhere in the upper boat. Assuming that Mr Dicken's phone booth opens, I presume it is located in the same position where Shooty and Stabby have them. Craig has it probably in base cap, once again probably smaller in size. Dr. Circa Sission has it same position Stabby and Shooty have them in, Zimothy does as well.

An AI System box helps one to speak, it makes their voice, an AI System box also allows one to feel emotions such as fear or happiness. If an emotion part of the AI System box is damaged, one would lose some of their emotions or have one overriding emotion which is stronger then other ones or lose one emotion. If the part controlling speech is damaged, then the person will lose their voice.

However, that's just a theory, A GAME THEORY.

#dialtown #theory

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ashwithapen · 9 months

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url song tag game :D

thanks to @yesireadbooks and @fire-but-ashes-too for tagging me! i love music so much so i love little games like this :))

what you have to do is spell your url with song titles and then tag as many people as there are letters.

shout out to my playlist with literally all of my music for making it easier to find + pick songs lmao

A - Aerie by Lena Raine

S - Scott Pilgrim vs. My GPA by Mom Jeans.

H - Hours Outside in the Snow by Modern Baseball

W - White Winter Hymnal by Fleet Foxes

I - It's Getting Wild Getting Older by Loupe

T - Theseus by The Oh Hellos

H - [The] Humours of Whiskey by Hozier

A - About You by The 1975

P - Polite Company by Rainbow Kitten Surprise

E - Everlong by Foo Fighters

N - Nervous Young Inhumans by Car Seat Headrest

TAGGING (11): @leisoree @enne-uni @caffeine-powered-aroace @palebdot @tea-and-mercury @holdmyteaplease @purplehandshumanfeelings @junypr-camus @guessillcallitar @desastreus @the-stray-storyteller

below the cut: me being unable to just choose one/two for each letter lmaoo

All Eyes On Me (Song Only) by Bo Burnham

Alpha by C418

Safe by Surf Curse

Safe and Sound by Capital Cities

Sarah by Alex G

Satisfied by the original Broadway cast of Hamilton

Seventeen by the cast of Heathers: The Musical

Sex by The 1975

Sober to Death by Car Seat Headrest

Somebody To Love by Queen

Happier Than Ever by Billie Eilish

haunt me (x 3) by Teen Suicide

Heartache by Toby Fox

Here I Am (Classic Version) by Bryan Adams

Hide by Rainbow Kitten Surprise

History Maker by DEAN FUJIOKA

Home by Toby Fox

Hopes and Dreams by Toby Fox

Hysteria by Def Leppard

Whatever It Takes by Imagine Dragons

when the light turns red by Miki Ratsula

WORDS WORDS WORDS by Bo Burnham

Would That I by Hozier

I Didn't Change My Number by Billie Eilish

IDK You Yet by Alexander23

I'll Be Good by Jaymes Young

I/Me/Myself by Will Wood

In My Room by Chance Peña

Into Númenor by Bear McCreary

Intro by C418

Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls

I Say No by the cast recording of Heathers: The Musical

It's All Futile! It's All Pointless! by Lovejoy & by Wilbur Soot

It's Only Sex by Car Seat Headrest

Take It Back by Darci, OZZIE

Taswell by C418

Teenager In Love by Neon Trees

Teenagers by My Chemical Romance

Teen Idle by MARINA

Tell It to My Heart by Paris Paloma

Therapy by Jonathan Larson

Time Travel Kool Aid by Half an Orange Ephixa

Toothless Lost by John Powell

Two Time by Jack Stauber's Micropop

Painkillers by Rainbow Kitten Surprise

Passerine by The Oh Hellos

Poison Root by Alex G

Possum Queen by Rainbow Kitten Surprise

Pothole by Modern Baseball

Privately Owned Spiral Galaxy by Lovejoy

Pursuit of Happiness by Kid Cudi, MGMT, Ratatat

Edge of the World by DESERT STAR

Edward 40hands by Mom Jeans.

Enterlude by The Killers

Eurus by The Oh Hellos

Everybody Gets High by MISSIO

Everyone but You by The Front Bottoms

Exitlude by The Killers

Nellie by Dr. Dog

Never Coming Home by Scruffpuppie

New Person, Same Old Mistakes by Tame Impala

[A] New Victim by Nathan Hanover Synthonic Orchestra

Non-Stop by the original Broadway cast of Hamilton

Not Alone by Darren Chris & by the cast of StarKid's Apocalyptour

Notches by Crywank

notice me by ROLE MODEL BENEE

Now or Never by Halsey

#ash.txt #tag game #music!!

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foundtherightwords · 1 year

Text

Love in a Storm - Chapter 2

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham (Regency AU)

Summary: A devastating loss threatens the happy marriage of Edward and Christine Munson, Lord and Lady Hurtsfield. However, when Edward is accused of a crime he didn't commit, Christine has to set her grief aside and embark on a perilous journey to prove her husband's innocence.

Warnings: childbirth, stillbirth, infertility, angst, false accusation, wrongful imprisonment, legal drama, some violence (non-graphic), some smut (non-explicit)

Chapter warnings: period-typical attitudes toward women and infertility, some awkward sex

Chapter word count: 3.4k

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

London, February 1820

"Your ladyship, please come inside. It's snowing."

Christine was startled by the maid's voice. She looked down and saw that, indeed, snowflakes were sprinkling over her hands as well as the rose bushes and the shears she was using to prune them. They melted almost as soon as they touched her skin. She put the shears away, gathered her shawl more closely around her, and went into the warmth of the drawing room.

"Is his lordship back yet?" she asked the maid.

"No, ma'am. He said he'd meet you at the doctor's."

Christine sighed. They were due to meet a sterility specialist that afternoon, one of the many they had consulted over the last eight months. They had tried every herbal remedy, every tonic, every tincture available. They had gone to Bath to take the water and to Brighton to try sea-bathing, and finally, at Dr. Sinclair's recommendation, they had gone to London and visited physician after physician, listening to their treatises on uterine scarring and defects and imbalance, being subjected to one uncomfortable interview after another, filled with indelicate questions and even more indelicate examinations. She doubted this one would be any different. She knew Edward only accompanied her out of love; he had no faith in these doctors, whom he deemed to be greedy quacks trying to make money from others' unhappiness and desperation. She could hardly blame him for not wanting to see another one, especially one who demanded that they came to him, instead of allowing them to consult him in the privacy of their own home.

At least they could afford the privacy. Christine smiled mockingly to herself when she imagined what her mother would think about having a parade of doctors in and out of her house. But a year ago, during a trip to Naples with her friend Lady Harrington, Mrs. Connyngham had, against all odds, caught the eye of an Italian man. He was untitled but wealthy enough and seemed to dote on her, which greatly made up for any lack of peerage in Mrs. Connyngham's eyes. She had decided to make Naples her permanent home, giving Edward and Christine the use of her townhouse in Hanover Square. Though, to be fair, the house was in Edward's name, considering he had been paying its rent. Still, Christine's relationship with her mother had improved a great deal now that there were over a thousand miles between them.

Later, as the cab rattled toward the specialist's office, Christine couldn't help feeling slightly hurt that Edward wasn't there to accompany her. London had been in chaos since the passing of the late king just two weeks before, and there was a sense of unease on the damp, foggy streets. There seemed to be more police officers mingling about, recognizable by their red waistcoats and tall stovepipe hats. A group of laborers congregating on the curb was roughly broken up by a constable. There was hostility and fear on people's faces, and the usual noises of the city had a threatening note to them.

Christine sighed again and wished she hadn't let Edward convince her to stay in London. In the immediate days after the loss of their son, they had found comfort in grieving with each other, but in the months that followed, the comfort wore off. It became painful to be around each other and be reminded of what they could have had. So Edward had started going out more, focusing more on his charity work. Christine had encouraged it at first, thinking it would benefit him to find other things to engage his time, knowing she was not the best company when melancholy had her in its grips. That was when he decided to spend the summer in London. It would be more convenient for them to seek treatment and allow him to become more involved with reform efforts. For a while, he seemed to have found a new sense of purpose, brimming with ideas, looking as excited as he had back when he'd just started the school in their village, in the early days of their marriage.

Then the riot in Manchester, labeled "the Peterloo massacre" by newspapers for its bloody conclusion, occurred, followed shortly by the passing of the Six Acts. Christine, who did not follow politics at all, was alarmed the day Edward came home with a thunderous expression, some newspaper clutched in his hand. "Is something the matter?" she asked.

"This," he said, tossing the paper onto the table. The headline "SIX ACTS PASSED" jumped out at her, followed by the cartoon of a chained and gagged man wearing tattered clothes. She picked it up and scanned the article.

"Read the third one, the Seditious Meetings Act," Edward told her.

"Any parties wishing to meet for consideration of subjects connected with church or state should notify their intention by a requisition signed by seven householders, and it should be illegal for any person not usually inhabiting the place where it was called, to attend," Christine read. "Every meeting for radical reform is an overt act of treasonable conspiracy against the King and his government." She looked up at Edward. "What does this mean?"

"It means we are losing our freedom," Edward said grimly.

His mood had changed after that. On the rare occasion that she accompanied him to the drawing rooms of the Hargrove sisters and their friends, Christine could hear him ranting and raving against the Six Acts to everyone and anyone that would listen. And he still went to meetings, despite the harsh law now restricting them. Just that morning, he had gone to meet with the Hargrove sisters to discuss the organization of a free day school in Whitechapel. Christine had nothing against Miss Beatrice and Miss Minerva Hargrove, though she had found them rather intimidating upon first meeting. In their fifties, they had seen too much of the world to care what others thought of them, and quietly but undauntedly, they went about making changes wherever they could, regardless of the law. Christine knew it was unfair and unjust that their charity work, aimed solely at bettering the lives of less fortunate women and children, could now be seen as seditious. She was even glad that Edward had found solace in working with them, whereas she herself couldn't. She merely wished he didn't have to endanger himself while doing so.

She knew this was selfish of her and felt ashamed. There were others who had been through much greater tragedies than the loss of a child, and yet others whose loss of a child had been much more tragic than hers - just look at the Hoppers, whose only son was cut down in his prime in a senseless war. And her husband was out there, helping them. If only he could find a way to help her as well...

***

Christine was ushered into the specialist's consulting room by a maid. The specialist, Dr. Brenner, with his pure silver hair, black eyebrows, and unlined face, looked more like a stage actor than a physician. He glanced at her card and stood up to greet her with a little condescending smile, and Christine immediately knew this would turn out to be another humiliating experience.

"Will Lord Hurstfield be joining us, your ladyship?" he asked.

"I hope so," Christine replied, though without conviction.

"His lordship has been busy, I've heard," Brenner said, smiling thinly. Christine's irritation rose, though she didn't know if it was with the specialist or Edward. Edward had always been vocal about his beliefs, but sometimes, he could be too vocal. He forgot that for all of its largeness and its crowds, London society could feel like a small town, tight-knit and full of gossip. For once, she was glad Edward was not with her. He would not hold his tongue in front of this man.

"My husband's charity work is very important to him," she said.

"Shall we wait for him then?"

"I don't see why, unless you wish to examine as well," Christine said, keeping her voice even. The specialist's smile wavered slightly.

"I can assure you, your ladyship, there is no need for a physical examination," he said. "I do not subscribe to the newfangled, and frankly immoral, notion of some of my colleagues that they need to be intimately familiar with a patient's body to treat them." Then how do you expect to know what's ailing them? Christine thought but said nothing. "These notes from your personal physician will suffice."

He looked over the notes from Dr. Sinclair with a theatrical air, and regarded Christine for a long moment. "I do believe, your ladyship, that your struggle to conceive has less to do with physical issues and more with mental ones," he announced.

"Oh?" She had heard that before.

"The scarring from your stillbirth, as described by your personal physician, should heal by now. And if there is no problem in your marital relations—"

"There isn't," Christine said, her face turning pink. And it was true, at least in the physical sense, though it had taken them months to be intimate again. But she wasn't going to tell this pompous little man that.

"Well, then, it is as I suspect," Brenner said, putting Dr. Sinclair's notes aside. "It appears you are prone to melancholy and hysteria."

Christine knew Dr. Sinclair's notes didn't say that. What they did say, however, was that she had once had a brush with death after ingesting arsenic in a moment of despair and madness. Brenner had simply drawn his own conclusion from that.

"You often take long walks or go horse-riding, do you not?" he asked. It was the first question he'd asked her.

"I thought exercises were good for one's health," Christine said, confused.

"But such restless activity, my lady, is detrimental to your ability to conceive. I can prescribe you some calming tonic, but it is essential that you stay away from any sort of excitement. Keep to your home and your feminine roles."

Christine was losing her patience now. "I am here for your medical advice, doctor," she said, "not to have you tell me how to live my life."

"This is my medical advice. It is well known that a woman's neglect of her calling goes hand in hand with sterility. All those women, running around in the name of good causes and demanding equal rights, willfully rejecting their duties..."

"What duties?" she asked, raising her voice. "How could I fulfill them if I have no child to raise, to care for?"

"You have your husband, and it appears he is more interested in helping other women than helping his own wife," Brenner said coldly.

Christine stared at him, too angry to speak. Finally, she stood up. "I think it is you that are neglecting your duties, doctor. You are not my spiritual guidance, or my father, or my brother. Your duties are to treat my physical ailments. If you refuse to do so, then I must take my business elsewhere. Good day."

She turned on her heel and almost ran into Edward, who burst in at that very moment, his hair wild, his cravat askew, followed by the flustered-looking maid. "Apologies for my late arrival," he said. "What's happened?" he asked, looking from Christine's furious face to Brenner's indignant one.

"Nothing. We are leaving," Christine said, pulling him along.

***

It was only when they were in the relative privacy of the hackney cab that Christine unleashed her fury on Edward. "Where were you?!" she hissed.

"I'm so sorry. The meeting ran later than I thought..."

"I've never been so humiliated in my life!"

"What did he say to you?"

"He didn't ask me a thing. He simply decided, after one look at me, that he knew all about me, all about our life. He blamed me for being restless, for not keeping you at home so you could impregnate me—"

"He what?!"

"Not in so many words, but the implication was clear."

"Of all the impertinent—"

Edward half-rose from his seat to stop the cab, but Christine pushed him back. "What are you intending to do, challenge him to a duel for insulting me?" she said, exasperated. Edward opened his mouth to speak, then decided against it and sat down apologetically.

Suddenly Christine felt as if all her strength was drained out of her. She slumped against her husband. He wrapped his arm around her, and she snuggled closer to him. "I'm tired of it, Edward," she said. "Tired of doctors and their probing and prodding, tired of all the medicines and potions. Let us go home."

Edward didn't answer, and she glanced up at him. He was looking out the cab's window, his brow furrowed in thoughts. "Edward?"

He turned back to her with a quick smile. "Yes, dear?"

Suspicion immediately reared its head in Christine's mind. Edward never called her dear, except when he had something to hide. But she knew better than to ask. He would always tell her of his own volition in a day or two.

"Let us go home," she repeated.

"We are going home."

"No, I mean home to Yorkshire. To Hurstfield."

His face was unchanged, but the arm around her shoulder stiffened slightly.

"I know you still have a lot of work here," she said. "But we can go home, can't we?"

"Of course. Give me a week or so to make sure the school is set up and the Misses Hargrove can continue without me, and we'll go home."

"Thank you," Christine said and leaned back against him. But his arm remained rigid, and he kept his eyes out the window.

***

Edward remained distracted over dinner. Though she tried not to let Dr. Brenner's judgmental words affect her, Christine couldn't stop herself from mulling over them as she watched Edward across the table. He did look more wearied than she'd remember, his hair tangled, his eyes dimmed and sunken, and she felt a pang in her heart. Had she been too focused on her own grief and neglecting her husband's?

Later, she found him in the study, going over their account books. Back in Yorkshire, where the estate was much more vast and difficult to run, the accounts were the domain of Edward and his steward, but here in London, he left the running of the household to Christine, so she was surprised to find him looking at them. "What are you looking for?" she asked, eager to be of help.

Edward jumped and hastened to put the book down. "Oh, uh, nothing in particular. Just want to make sure the accounts are in order before we go home, that's all."

"I can do that, you know."

"Yes, but you've had a trying day."

Christine lingered by the desk, rearranging the already neat papers and quills and inkstand. "Edward, what would happen if we could never have another child?" eventually she asked.

Edward gazed at her for a moment, then reached for her hand and pulled her down on his lap. "We've been over this matter before, Christine," he said. "It is of no importance to me."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face into his chest. How comfortable and safe it was to sit like this, in his arms and with his lips on her hair. If only that was enough to chase away all the pain and the doubt. "But what about your inheritance?" she asked. They had gotten married so that Edward could inherit from his great aunt, whose will stipulated that he must have a wife and produce an heir.

"I rather hope that you would want to have children with me because you're madly in love with me, not because you're worried about the inheritance," Edward said, glancing down at her with a twinkle in his eyes. But upon seeing Christine's beseeching look, he sobered up. "I'd give it back, if it came to that," he said.

She was stunned. "You would?"

"Yes. Hurstfield is prosperous now, we can afford it." He kissed her forehead. "I married you for you, remember?"

"I thought you married me to secure your inheritance," she teased.

"Well, that was a nice bonus too." He smiled, sliding his lips down her cheek to her mouth, and for a moment, while she kissed him back, it was as if nothing had changed between them. Then the kiss became more pressing, more eager, and his hand started moving under her wrap, under her nightgown, and Christine tensed up, not from anticipation, but apprehension. Though it had been nearly two years, she still remembered the pain all too well - the pain in her body, and the pain in her heart. Involuntarily, she turned her head to the side.

"Is—is everything all right?" Edward asked.

"Everything is fine," she said, reaching up to caress his face. "Let us go to bed."

He leaned down to kiss her again. Then, putting his arms under her, he picked her up and carried her to their bedroom, his lips never leaving hers. As he put her down on the bed, she forced herself to focus on the kiss, on him, his soft lips, his hair entwined in her fingers, his familiar smell, his warm hands touching her in all the places he knew she liked. But her mind kept wandering. Every time they made love now, she both hoped and feared it might result in a child. Perhaps it would this time, this time, or this time. But what if it did result in a child? Could she carry that child to term? What if the child died as well? Could they face that pain once more?

She tried not to flinch when he slid into her, but Edward must have noticed and paused. "Are you—" he said, his face wavering above hers. "We don't have to—if you're not..."

"No." As much as she feared a pregnancy, her desire for it was stronger. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Don't stop." They couldn't afford to stop.

She kissed him, trying to sweeten the act, but it didn't help much. She wasn't sure if this could be called lovemaking. There was something mechanical about it, two people having become so familiar with each other that there was no longer any newness or excitement to their touches. Before, she had taken comfort in that familiarity. Now it felt almost... dreary.

A coolness on her skin lifted her out of her reverie, and she realized Edward had withdrawn from her. She didn't even know when he had finished. Now he was sitting up, looking at her. The flickering flame of the candle kept his face half in shadow, so she couldn't fully make out his expression. There was sadness there, and something else too. Guilt? Disappointment? With her or with himself? She couldn't tell.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. He brushed his lips over her temple, before blowing out the candle and lying down with his back to her.

***

When Christine's breath had steadied, Edward gently turned around so he could watch her in her sleep. She looked so fragile, with her hands inert on the counterpane, the bruised lids covering her eyes, the fine lines of pain etched on her forehead and at the corners of her eyes like cobwebs, lines that a thousand kisses and touches could never erase. There was so much he wished he could tell her, so much he wanted to share with her. It had been on the tip of his tongue when they left the specialist's office, but then he had seen the way she'd covered her pale face, the way her hands had shaken with futile rage and exhaustion, and the words had died before they could reach his lips. He had always prided himself on being truthful in his marriage, but this was one truth he couldn't burden her with. She had been through enough. No. This trouble was his to bear alone, and bear it he would.

Chapter 3

A/N: No, this Dr. Brenner is not the same Brenner in canon. Some other ST characters (or, rather, their Regency equivalents) are going to show up later, but in this case, I just ran out of names :))

#hellcheer #hellcheer fic #hellcheer au #regency au #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #eddie x chrissy #chrissy x eddie #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #stranger things fic

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