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hanna-portfolio · 1 year

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Shining a light on Seasonal Affective Disorder

It's no secret that changes in the weather and temperature can affect our mood. It could, however, also have an substantial impact on our mental health and daily lives.

When this happens, it's critical to bring attention to seasonal affective disorder (SAD) and the underlying causes of poor mental health.

SAD affects up to three in 100 people in the UK at some point of their life. Most people experience symptoms in their early 20s or 30s.

Henriette Olivia Skauen, 21, got diagnosed with SAD when she was 14. She explains that she still suffers from it, but she has learnt to manage her symptoms which makes it easier to cope with it.

Henriette got diagnosed with SAD at the age of 14.

“I struggle the most during the winter months. I feel down, upset and very emotional.

“When I feel the change in the seasons, I feel very drained and sad, I struggle a lot with motivation and I find it very difficult getting dressed or out of bed.”

According to the mental health charity Mind the symptoms of SAD will only happen during one part of the year, or get significantly worse in one season.

Lilly Marie, 21, got diagnosed with SAD by her psychiatrist after they saw a pattern of symptoms during every winter season.

Lilly says she has learnt how to manage her symptoms.

“My symptoms got progressively worse every winter, I would eventually end up feeling angry, anxious and impatient. I didn't want to see anyone, not friends nor family. I didn't want to go anywhere or do anything.”

Lindsay George, a family counsellor and psychotherapist, explains that getting a diagnosis and treatment is critical because otherwise, the cycle may repeat itself year after year, and the symptoms may worsen.

She says: “I have seasonal affective disorder and I am very aware of what it does to my mood.

“I have a light lamp that I use when I am online with clients during the wintertime and I take vitamin D to manage it.”

Both Henriette and Lilly also use light therapy to cope with their symptoms. It gives off a bright light that mimics natural outdoor light and supplies the skin with vitamin D. Other treatments for SAD includes antidepressants and talking therapies.

The exact cause of SAD is still unknown, but lack of sunlight is believed to be one of them. When there isn't enough sunlight, the brain's production of serotonin, a hormone which stabilizes our mood, well-being and happiness, slows down and these functions gradually stop.

Less sunlight also disturbs our body clock. People with SAD seem to produce a higher level of melatonin during winter, a hormone that helps our body sleep, which can lead to tiredness and depression.

There are hardly any statistics concluding the number of people suffering from SAD.

Lindsay George explains that the reason for that is because it's difficult to diagnose and that people are reluctant to put a label on it.

She thinks that SAD is one of those conditions that there is little known about. She says: “People go to sort of more common mental health disorders, where they can say ‘Actually, I can relate to those conditions’, because they are spoken about so much more often.”

According to her website, studies commissioned by The Weather Channel and YouGov found that as many as 29% of adults in the UK experience symptoms of SAD, with 8% experiencing it to an extreme degree.

“SAD is a cycle thing, it happens at specific times of the year and the environment in which we are living makes it so much harder to diagnose because there are other things potentially going on at the same time.”

Mind says that they don’t have any statistics on the prevalence of SAD. However, they claim it is considered to be more common in countries such as England and Wales, where seasonal weather and daylight hours vary. According to SAD.uk, researchers have found a link between where you live and your chances of developing SAD. According to their research, the further away from the equator you live, the more likely you are to develop it.

A research report by Annals of General Psychiatry also suggests that seasonal changes appear to affect mental health and that rapid temperature changes can deepen depression. The report also states that extended periods of light in the summer and the overwhelming production or serotonin after long periods without it, can trigger impulsivity and promote suicidal acts. Furthermore, studies show that spring suicide peaks are also associated with changes in temperature and weather.

A common stereotype is that people in Nordic countries are the most depressed in the world, but according to research it may not be far from the truth. Research by the Happiness Research Institute shows that 12.3% of the Nordic countries population are struggling or suffering. A figure that rises to 13.5% among 18- to 23-year-olds.

This might come as a surprise, considering the fact that most Nordic countries are considered to be some of the happiest in the world, with well-functioning democracies, free education and healthcare, in addition to having a high priority of life balance.

However, the report shows that Denmark saw 18.3% of people aged 16 to 24 suffer from poor mental health. Norway saw a 40% increase of young people seeking mental health help and Finland reported that suicide was responsible for a third of all deaths among young people. In addition to this, Greenland har an annual suicide rate of 100 per 100,000 inhabitants and has the highest suicide rate in the world.

Seeing as how the dark winters in the Nordic countries, with up to 20 hours of darkness each day in some areas, are more likely to trigger symptoms of SAD, this might be why developed northern countries are experiencing high rates of suicide and poor mental health.

Like any other type of depression, there are no external symptoms and people suffering from it are likely to experience stigma and misconceptions, making it more even complicated to diagnose and treat.

Isolde, 21, is suffering from depression and tells me that she has always experienced a feeling of shame and fear of being judged.

“I feel like most people don't actually understand what it’s like, but rather think ‘she should just get herself together and stop making excuses’, or that i'm just lazy.”

Even though people are gradually becoming more knowledgeable about the subject, she believes that few people know what depression really looks like.

Laura Duncan, a Senior Lecturer at University of Chester´s Faculty of Health and Social Care, says that stigma is a complex issue.

“Historically, mental health issues have been perceived to be shameful or a sign of weakness and these perceptions take a lot longer to change within society.”

She says that individuals might feel that if they disclose that they have a mental health issue, this will cause people to see them in a negative way or it may even mean they see themselves in a negative way.

“Depression is a serious illness and in its most severe cases can lead to suicidal thoughts or actions.

“The most shocking thing to consider about stigma is that people very literally lose their lives because of it.”

She claims that one of the most effective ways to fight stigma is to be more open about it.

“If someone is diabetic, we don’t judge them for needing to take insulin because they have a condition that requires it for them to be healthy.

“However, if someone has depression, they feel judged about taking anti-depressant medication. Why is it perceived any differently to someone who needs insulin to maintain their health and wellbeing?”

She explains that learning to understand your emotions and feelings is the most helpful way to manage them.

“If we were generally more open about our emotions and feelings on a day-to-day basis, this would mean that when people found they were struggling, they would feel more comfortable in sharing that and seeking help.

“We ultimately need to normalize having an emotional response to life because it is absolutely normal!”

The seasons will continue changing but bringing more light to SAD and the causes of it may help, and in some cases save, more people than you think.

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cherriesfineline · 3 years

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Au Pair – Chapter I

It's finally here – I'm sorry this took so long, this past few weeks have been a mess but here it is, our first chapter for the Au Pair series; I kinda hate this, ngl- I always hate first chapters, a lot of introductory info and bla bla but yeah.

In the weird case you happen to enjoy this and want to be added into the taglist (starting next chapter) you can request it here.

Feedback, likes or reblogs are so, so appreciated! I'm very much new to the whole writing world so yeah it'd be really helpful to hear your thoughts about this <3

Love you all, have a wonderful week beauties!

Warnings: none specifically for this chapter – age gap.

WC: 6.6k

Masterlist

Y/N was tired, to say the least.

And it wasn’t the tiredness she used to feel after a long work shift at her previous job -where her boss was an old, grumpy lady with horrible manners- or the exhaustion felt after spending hours crying due to a fight with her mother. No, this was different. It was a tiredness she couldn’t get rid of; a tiredness no lavender smelling bath or hours upon hours of sleep could amend.

She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment her brain shifted in such a drastic way. Y/N could easily recognize and admit her life had never been an exciting one; a memorable one. Ever since she was a little girl it all seemed to fly by; graduations, birthdays, friendships – nothing ever seemed to leave an impact and nothing ever seemed as exciting as everyone else put it to be. She knew she struggled with allowing herself to enjoy things, but this far her life had been pretty average.

Maybe it was the fact that she was 22 years old and never been in a real relationship what skyrocketed her fear of dying alone. Now, she knew it might seem exaggerated – 22 years wasn’t a long life at all, but the pungent emptiness she’d been feeling felt like her inevitable destiny – like that’s how life was supposed to be for her.

England felt different, though. But in all honesty, her emotions hadn’t had switched into completely different ones like she’d expected to happen when she applied for this job as an Au Pair all the way back in February.

With a steaming hot cup of coffee between her cold hands, she sat down next to Coco (a very soft grey Scottish Fold) on the giant couch of her new home, scratching in between his tiny ears earning a low purr in response. Coco had become one of her closest friends so far, along with Anya, a three year old girl with cute blonde locks and a laugh so contagious it made the muscles on your cheeks ache after a long playdate.

Maybe moving away wasn’t the smartest choice. It actually might be one of the stupidest choices she had ever made, actually – moving all the way across the globe when she cried herself to sleep most nights due to her loneliness overcoming her (almost inexistent) self-awareness. Y/N liked to believe she had a wide understanding of her emotions, but it was a blatant lie.

At least she was distracted for most of the day – taking care of two kids and looking after a teenager wasn’t an easy task. It required a lot of mental presence; but by the time she was in bed at night, it all hit back again. She thought maybe this is how life is supposed to be for her, lonely – maybe it was not her brain playing her tricks but her brain making her see how her life truly was.

It’d been two weeks since the Lockehold family picked Y/N up from the airport, and on one side getting physically adjusted to this new life hadn't been as rough as she thought it’d be. She did have it easy, if she had to admit – a big room in a giant, beautiful home and a car to her disposal. Emotionally, on the other side, life was still the same.

She knew the moment she heard heels hitting the cold marble staircase Bella was on her way down with Ivy, the eldest of the three sisters, following close behind, complaining about a hangout she was apparently going to miss because they “are expecting a guest” as Bella announced, meaning neither of her parents could drive her. That’s how Y/N found herself sitting in her (borrowed) blue Jeep Renegade driving Ivy to her friend Lily’s house – who lived in the same rich, over-the-top neighborhood as her guest family, which meant the ride to and back was no longer than twenty minutes. During those minutes together, though, Y/N could physically feel the irritation running through Ivy’s blood because first, she still wasn’t too fond of Y/N because she is 16 and doesn’t need a babysitter -her words, not Y/N’s- and second, Y/N is still not accustomed to driving on the other side of the road.

Technically, Y/N had the weekends off. Living with the same people who employed her gladly didn’t mean working 24/7, but she hoped she could earn a couple of points in her favor if she took her free time to drive her around.

After a short conversation between the two (where Ivy refused to save Y/N’s number in case an emergency came up because she could always call her dad), Y/N dropped her off and drove back to the Lockehold’s. What caught her off guard, was the sight of someone in the driveway at the house next door getting suitcases out of the trunk of a black cab – there hadn’t been any movement in the old Victorian mansion since she’d moved in next door. A man, definitely very tall, dressed in a dark suit is all Y/N could decipher since it was already dark outside and she had to strictly concentrate on not switching to the opposite side of the road out of habit.

Alex was coming down the stairs when Y/N locked the front door – Bella’s husband was a very handsome man for his age, probably anyone could admit it. He was kind of scary sometimes, but was a true sweetheart on the inside; he’s in his mid-40’s and it was clear as day his family meant everything to him, he even treated Y/N like his own daughter, always making sure she’s comfortable and inviting her to most family hangouts – even though Y/N declined pretty often to allow them to have quality time as a family (and because being too socially involved drained her, but they needn’t have to know that)

“You wanna join us for dinner? We have a guest tonight. A family friend.”

“Oh, no, I'm good, you guys enjoy yourselves. I’ll say hello, though.” Y/N replied with a smile; and as before mentioned, even though she had the weekends to herself, they still loved to insist on her joining them for fancy dinners and whatnot. The Lockehold’s loved being hostesses, loved having people around (from what Y/N learned this past two weeks) but she really wanted -and needed- some time for herself after being with them the entire week, and even though she loved hanging out with them, she just wasn’t in the mood tonight.

“You sure? Bella made homemade pasta, from scratch. Her specialty.” Mouthwatering, Y/N thought. Bella was such an amazing cook, and even though she worked hours upon hours every day, she still came to her husband and kids in time to make dinner every night, not missing a single day.

“Sounds delicious, but I think I’ll pass, I’m just really tired.” And before anyone could make another comment, the loud bell ringing through the main floor of the house startled Y/N as it’s louder than ordinary – and sounded kind of old and creepy, in her opinion. By the time the constant thud in her chest lowered to a normal speed, she could recognize Bella’s voice in the foyer, meaning she was the one who received their guest, with a deep voice following after saying 'thank you for having me'.

"He's here!" Alex clasped his hands together, a wide smile appearing in his face. Y/N followed him into the living room where Bella was already chatting animatedly with a man; tall and with broad shoulders (but not excessively; just the right amount) his figure was leaning slightly forward as he listened to Bella rambling about all the 'good things he had missed while he was away'. His hands were clasped on his back and when he lifted his head, he made direct eye contact with Y/N without even having to search for her eyes. His brown curls were perfectly placed on top of his head looking extremely soft, and when he ran his hand through it Y/N couldn’t help but swallow harshly. He undoubtedly looked like someone who belonged in Hollywood next to a young Leo DiCaprio and he was definitely older than Y/N – probably already in his 30's, she guessed, but ageing like the finest wine. He had the softest looking wrinkles in the corners of his eyes – those eyes, forest green; reminded Y/N of what used to be home for her. His intense gaze held a lot of emotion, a lot of thought, unlike his face, that appeared stiff and cold, with a slight crease between his brows. His pink, heart-shaped lips were pressed in a line, a cute mole adorning one side of his chin.

"Harry! It's so good to see you, we've missed you." Alex's excitement forced him to drift his gaze away from Y/N, leaving her like a heated teenager salivating for him. Y/N honestly thought he might had left her speechless and most likely with increasing probabilities to make a fool out of herself if someone needed her to talk, as she was certain she wouldn't be able to formulate any coherent sentences.

Harry. It totally suited him, Y/N repeated his name a couple of times inside her head to check on its pronunciation. Alex reached him and pulled him in a big hug, patting each other's back, and Harry's lips broke into a huge smile making a line of pearly white teeth appear. And dimples. God, he had dimples.

This is how I die, Y/N thought.

"So good to see you, Alex." If sex was a sound, his voice would definitely be it.

"Your skin is glowing, Harry. Italy always does you wonders." Bella gushed. And she was right – his skin had this beautiful golden undertone, but it looked natural and radiant, almost like the sun itself kissed and caressed his skin with the softest touches. Alex snapped Y/N into reality when he turned to face her and grabbed her hand to pull her closer to them, starting a long introduction no one was paying much attention to, explaining how he’d missed her arrival, like he even cared, and how she was the Au Pair they’d all been talking about ever since February. It wasn’t until Alex mentioned something about Y/N and Harry probably seeing each other a lot she was suddenly interested in what was actually going on.

“He owns the school the girl’s attend.” Alex directed towards her. Now, Y/N assumed the moment she laid eyes on him he was probably rich – who wears a suit to a Sunday dinner with friends? Rich people are weird, that’s something we can all agree on; but owning a school which’s monthly fees per kid were worth three of her salaries? That was quite unexpected.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry." Y/N offered him her hand, trying to sound as casual as possible, even if her skin felt like it was burning under his intense gaze and her eyes were definitely betraying her.

"The pleasure’s all mine, Y/N." He shook her hand. His strong hold sent shivers down her spine; the cold rings making a big contrast against the heat his hand radiated and she couldn't help but fantasize about how his touch would feel in some other places.

The sudden embarrassment feeling hot against her cheeks made her turn around impossibly faster, feeling guilty at the dirty thoughts consuming her brain while around her bosses – and in front of him. Making a beeline straight to her room, announcing she was calling it a night, she sent Harry a quick -but quite charming- smile, and couldn’t help but soften at the sound of Anya running down the stairs yelling an excited ‘Harryyyy’ once she was past the kitchen.

She knew she got lucky with her commodities – an entire studio-like apartment past the main kitchen of the house, where the servant’s area used to be located a handful of decades ago; but she cussed in a whisper when she remembered half way through her making of a sandwich (four hours after she’d retreated to her bedroom and because she decided on skipping dinner that night, not having enough energy to cook) that her lazy ass still hadn’t bought mayonnaise. Her small kitchen had enough space to hold her snacks, along with some ingredients to make a few meals, since she only had to worry about food on the weekends. Reluctantly, she took the small plate holding her sandwich and made her way towards the main kitchen. There was no way in hell she’d eat a sandwich with no mayo – never in a million years, too dry to go down her throat.

I guess they won't mind if I grab just enough to put on my sandwich, she thought. The house was quiet, everyone probably already in bed, therefore she almost pissed herself when she found Harry sitting in one of the kitchen stools, looking down at his phone with an annoyed expression adorning his face. Almost as if he could sense someone was in the same room, he looked up to find Y/N standing at the kitchen threshold, his face abandoning any sort of emotion.

"Hey."

"Hi." Y/N walked towards the fridge on the far right of the kitchen, opposite from where she came in. "Sorry, I thought no one was here."

"Don't worry, just waiting for Bella and Alex to come back down to have some tea, they're putting the girls to sleep. Would you like to join us?" He offered. And honestly, she'd love to say yes and just listen to him talk with that deep, melodic voice, but her stomach was really hating her right now.

"I'm good, just grabbing some mayo. Thank you, though." She declined with a small smile.

"Next time." He sounded more demanding than suggesting, which slightly baffled Y/N. "Can I ask where you are from?" He asked respectfully.

"A small town in the Argentine Patagonia." Y/N replied with her back facing him as she busied herself with the mayonnaise container.

"Never been to Argentina. Or anywhere in South America, actually." And when Y/N turned around, sandwich in hand ready to go back to her room, their eyes met across the kitchen and she felt the heat creeping up her neck for the second time that night. Y/N wondered how his gaze was always this intense – she wasn’t a fan of how they’d barely exchanged a few words and somehow she felt so exposed.

"You should. It's beautiful." She almost, almost, choked on her own words and when she looked down at her fuzzy pink socks and back to him to try and calm her growing nerves down, he surprised her when she caught him looking up and down her body – in any other case she definitely would’ve felt creeped out, but there was something about him, the fact that he definitely didn’t do it with the intention of her catching him (she noticed how he shifted uncomfortably on his seat after the exchange) and how he simply added a “I’m sure it is," afterwards, she knew she was fucked right then and there – she wanted him looking at her. Was that something bad?

But then – then she remembered how she was wearing her soft cotton pajamas, and she began wondering if he was just laughing internally at her outfit instead of checking her out like she initially thought. And just like a save from heaven, Bella and Alex appeared in the kitchen discussing who was picking Ivy up from her friend's house. "Hi Y/N, still awake?"

"Yeah, got hungry. Stole a bit of mayo, hope you don't mind." She shyly held the plate up.

"Please, this is your house too." Alex waved her off.

"Thanks. Gonna go back now." Y/N pointed towards the small hallway that led to her room. "Goodnight." Turning her body to walk away, she caught Harry's eyes, again, still staring at her, but decided on simply walking away, breaking eye contact, making that small interaction their last one for the night.

The following week consisted of Anya and Y/N playing lots of fun games, trying to get a word out of Charlie and Ivy ignoring her for the most part. Her relationship with each of them was completely different, each trusting her at their own peace, getting used to having a stranger around. Anya seemed the only one openly excited to hang out with Y/N every day, and even though she could tell Charlie didn't exactly mind her presence, she still hadn't talked to her as much as she'd like her to.

"What are you up to, Charlie?" Y/N asked the seven year old as she sat next to her in the big playroom they had on the main floor. Charlie kept her gaze locked on her drawing with a handful of crayons on her right hand as she drew with her left. "You're left handed? That's so cool!" Bella had mentioned some time ago that Charlie had a really hard time letting people in, Y/N knew it'd take some time for her to see her as a friend -like she wanted her to- rather than someone who gets paid to hang out with her, but Bella confessed Charlie was actually really excited to meet Y/N, which felt like a small relief, knowing she actually wanted her there – unlike Ivy. Charlie spoke only when necessary and struggled with making friends but her psych pedagogue said she's just really shy and that ‘once she breaks out of her shell, she's unstoppable’. "I love the birds you drew here." Y/N pointed at some small birds sitting in a tree branch.

"Bluebirds." She murmured.

Getting a single word from her was considered progress, in Y/N’s opinion, but that’s all she got for the entire afternoon – even after constantly sending comments her way while playing with Anya so Charlie wouldn’t feel left out, not a single word came out of her mouth. Anya mentioned Harry at some point while talking about her favorite doll (which Harry had gifted her for her 3rd birthday) and the flash of captivating green eyes almost blinded her internally (she couldn’t deny she’d thought about Harry every once in a while this past week)

And it wasn’t until later that same day, after spending a long while sitting alone in a nearby park, she got the chance to see him again – even if he had scared her (almost) to death, she couldn’t help but feel an annoying flutter in her stomach.

She would like to say she loved her long walks during the most unreasonable times at night, but her reasoning behind her late night needs of distraction didn’t exactly thrill her. It was during the quietest and most peaceful times of the day when her mind seemed to speed faster than ever before; the sleepless nights and brain-wrecking thinking of how alone and empty she actually felt, along with the laziness and reluctance when it came to things that used to make her happy weighed her down like carrying a sack of potatoes on her back.

As she was walking past her neighbor's house (the one where she had seen that man with the suitcases last week) she noticed someone sitting on the large porch. Weird, she thought. She hadn't noticed any movement in the house since that night a week ago, to the point she even considered it being empty again. The silhouette seemed oddly familiar though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

"Y/N." She slightly jumped as she heard them call for her, in a strong and deep accent. Was that...

"Harry?" She asked befuddled. Did he live there? She watched as he stood up from his sitting position on the outdoor couch and walked across his front yard to take a closer look at him stopping at the bottom of the short staircase that leads to the porch. "What are you doing up so late?" And then something clicked in her brain – he was probably the man she saw that night, with his suitcases. It made sense, how he probably got home from vacation the same day he had dinner at the Lockehold's – the same day Bella mentioned something about him being in Italy

"Can't sleep." He simply replied, with a small sigh. He then nodded to the seat behind him, and Y/N could physically feel her brain going a thousand miles per minute. She sat on the far left of the couch as he retook his seat on the right, "what are you doing up so late?" He repeated her question.

And Y/N repeated his answer. "Can't sleep."

So they sat in silence, what felt like hours barely being a few seconds. "Didn't know you lived next door." Y/N took the time to take in his side profile - sharp and long nose, the tip curving slightly downwards when he spoke the next line.

"Never mentioned it." He replied apathetically. The unexpected switch in his tone made her immediately shut up, and even though it confused Y/N as to why he would want her joining him if he didn't want to talk, she was dreading going back to her room alone to drown in her thoughts again. She'd take uncomfortable company over being alone when her head got like this, it helped her get distracted; overthinking this situation instead of the same scenarios that constantly lived in her head.

They again sat in silence for a while, this time for longer than a few minutes, and even though it was slightly uncomfortable, there was an unspoken understanding between them. He just wanted company, and so did she. This time, however, it was him who tried for conversation. "Why did you choose England for your Au Pair program?"

"I was actually convinced I was going to choose France," Y/N shared with a soft tone, "but when I met the girls in one of my interviews I just knew I had to come here. Anya was so excited about meeting me, she thought it was already settled." She ended with a small smile on her lips. The memory of Anya smiling happily at her through the computer screen even when she hadn't had met her yet warming her heart.

It was true, the fact that she’d chosen England because of the girls. She wanted to learn French – she knew her way around the English language pretty well; but the French family whom interviewed her didn’t come close to the Lockehold’s at all – she thought maybe the experience of living in a whole different continent with a wonderful family was better than choosing a place because of the language – the experience was being experienced either way.

"Anya is a very special kid. They all are." Harry declared, the left corner of his mouth turning upwards in a small half smile.

Y/N nodded slowly before asking, "How long have you known them?" She could recall Alex saying he was a family friend – but she had no other information about him besides that.

"A while." The small conversation went for a long while, he shared the real reason as to why he was awake so late, explaining how he has struggled with falling asleep ever since he was young, but besides that comment, he kept his life very private; not sharing much information about himself during their chat, and every time Y/N reciprocated a question, he would either answer vaguely or didn't answer at all, changing the subject with another question. "It's really late" He commented, Y/N’s phone reading 1:08am.

"Yeah, I should probably go to bed." She lifted her head to look at him, who was already searching for her eyes. Y/N cleared her throat when a few moments passed by, again, with no one speaking a word. She wondered what could possibly be going through his head at the time, but he nodded, got up and said, "I'll see you around, Y/N." Her name flowed so nicely out of his lips it made her knees get weak. Locking herself in her bedroom (after entering it by the door at the side of the house – which leaded straight to her room) she laid in bed trying to understand why they’d just hang out in his front porch way past midnight when they clearly didn’t know each other very well – or at all, better said.

First day of classes came by in a heartbeat. The first Monday of September Y/N found herself getting up earlier than she was accustomed to, since the girl's sleeping schedule was different during the summer. 6:15am read her alarm when she lazily threw the soft covers off her body. A quick shower and minimal makeup application later, she stood naked next to her bed checking the weather app, as to know how to prepare the girl's clothes.

After putting a soft pink sweater on and a pair of flared jeans, Y/N left the warmth of her room to wake the girls up. Going for Charlie first (since she didn't need any help changing into her uniform and Ivy used her own alarm) she didn't give Y/N any work at all, waking up immediately after softly calling her name once. Picking her uniform from her closet and leaving it for her to change, Y/N left Charlie’s room to walk towards the next door.

"Morning, Anya." She whispered as she brushed some of her hair out of her face. Anya’s little nose scrunched up and a soft whimper left her mouth as she switched positions, now laying on her side, "gotta wake up, love." Y/N shook her arm softly, and she finally opened her eyes, a tired smile creeping up her face as she noticed it was Y/N sitting next to her. Y/N left her to rub the tiredness off her eyes while she picked her clothes (since her daycare was at the same school her older sister's attended -Harry's school, Y/N couldn't help but think- her uniform consisted of only a white t-shirt with the school logo along with any pair of bottoms she chose for the day.

After picking up her cute small rain boots and help her get dressed up, Y/N did a cute hairstyle on her with the small butterfly hair clips she chose, and went back to Charlie's room to do her hair, Anya coming along.

They arrived at their school; a big, period-like brick building with hundreds of students roaming around and a beautiful fountain at the front – which actually made Y/N’s childhood look like a big joke; the school she had attended was located in the middle of the mountains in a remote field.

"I'll be here at two thirty. Good luck, girls, I'll see you later." Ivy walked away sending a 'mhm' her way to let her know she heard her, and Charlie offered a small smile along with a wave and walked away like her sister. Y/N took Anya off her car seat and helped her get out of the car, her tiny backpack sitting on Y/N’s right shoulder as she grabbed the hand Anya offered her.

"Mommy said I have the penguins' classroom!" She said with excitement as they walked through the doors at the right wing of the building.

"That's so cool! I love penguins, let's search for the door which has penguins on it, shall we?" Y/N suggested even though she could clearly see their door at the end of the hallway.

"Yes! This one has elephants," she pointed at the door they were passing, "look, butterflies!"

"Like your hairclips!" Y/N exclaimed, and she giggled nodding her head. "Ah! Look what we found..." Y/N pointed at the next door.

"Penguins!" She skipped towards the door, dragging Y/N along. They entered the big and colorful classroom where they found some kids crying in their parent’s arms, others being as excited as Anya.

"Hi there! Anya, am I correct?" A woman who appeared to be around Y/N’s age came up to them, scrunching down to be on Anya’s eye level. She nodded frantically, excitement dripping from her smile. "My name is Miss Pia, I'm going to be your teacher this year." She introduced herself, Anya gave her an even bigger smile and slyly asked if she could go meet her classmates, to which Miss Pia agreed, asking her to first hang her small backpack in the rack at the back of the room, taking it from my hands and running excitedly to do it.

"You must be Y/N, then?" Miss Pia asked, getting back up to her feet. She was short with blonde curly hair sitting high in a ponytail, rosy cheeks and a cute teacher apron on top of her regular clothes.

"I am." Y/N offered her hand.

"The administration office said we would be having an Au Pair this year, they always give us a heads up with situations like these." She explained, and Y/N nodded as she continued, "we have the parents, nannies or in this case, Au Pairs," they both laughed," stay for the introduction, you can leave afterwards."

"Perfect, I'll sit at the back with the rest of the parents." Y/N ended up staying for about half an hour, smiling at Anya every time she turned to search for her when something exciting seemed to be happening. She won't be needing any adaptation, as Miss Pia said, and she was dismissed right before they had their first trip to the playground outside, taking advantage of the fact that it hadn't started raining yet.

Right when Y/N was walking out of the building, she spotted Harry at the main entrance, reading something on his phone. He was wearing a navy blue suit with a white shirt underneath, and he looked even more handsome in the daylight. She made her way towards him, walking up the marble stairs (marble stairs! In a school?), and when he noticed her, he put his phone away and slowly (and trying to be as discrete as possible – which he failed to, again) looked up and down her body. Something about him giving her his full attention made her insides burn, and she couldn’t help but bit her bottom lip to suppress a smile.

"Hi." She stopped in front of him, taking a moment to look at his eyes; they definitely looked a lot lighter now that there was natural light surrounding them.

"Hi." He repeated, "Dropped the girl's off?" He motioned towards the building with his head.

"Yes, just left Anya’s classroom." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Miss Pia?" He asked, squinting his eyes.

"Yes. She's nice, looks like she knows what she's doing." Y/N shrugged. She didn't exactly know her enough to have a conversation about her – and she most definitely couldn’t be one to talk, since she herself didn’t know what she was doing half of the time. “How’s the first day back been so far?” He got cut off from his next comment by his phone, and the small crease between his eyebrows grew deeper, which didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N. "I'll leave you to it." She announced, but his eyes found hers again, and it was almost like he was asking for her to not leave him to it, but Y/N didn’t trust her instincts, not with him – not when he made her so nervous her brain couldn’t process things around him, and she was scared of misreading his expressions; he was hard to read. Not like she was expert at reading people but he was frustratingly confusing.

They didn't see each other again until a week later on a Tuesday evening – the same day Charlie, Anya and her decided to go for a walk and treat themselves with ice cream from a cute shop across from (what had come to be) her favorite park, Harry and Y/N found each other's eyes across his front garden, just like that night, but this time it was easy for her to recognize him as she could see his face clear and glowing from the sunset shine. His eyes were glued to her until the fence that divided their houses blocked his view, and again, Y/N wondered what could be going through his head.

It wasn’t until after dinner, past her work hours, she decided to leave the house through the door on her room with the sparking curiosity to test if she would run into Harry. Stopping on the sidewalk in front of his house, she noticed he was not sitting outside, and even though that's exactly what she had expected -he was not going to sit there for hours and hours, right?- There still was a small feeling of disappointment that rushed through her, and when she snapped back into reality, it was too late to stop herself as she knocked on his front door.

And Y/N didn’t know where to hide – not like hiding would be less embarrassing but God she did hate herself that moment. The embarrassment running through her veins was painful and made her lightheaded – she knew she had trouble sometimes with not thinking things through, but this was beyond her. He barely knew her. And suddenly his door was wide open.

"Y/N?" Of course she was not lucky enough for him to be asleep and not hearing her knock – life would’ve been too in her favor for that to happen. Of course he was very awake with a half drank cup of tea in his hand and the softest looking pair of grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. "Are you ok? You look really pale." His voice was calm, probably the softest it'd ever been in her presence. At least he doesn't sound mad, Y/N thought.

Harry wanted to be confused, but he was more curious than anything else. For some reason, he felt very intrigued by Y/N – how she seemed confident but insanely insecure at the same time; it reminded him of himself, if he had to be honest. He just learned how to hide the latter.

"Uh, yeah- um, I was-" she nervously turned around halfway to look behind her and back at him again. He raised his eyebrows in curiosity and Y/N really tried her hardest not to step over her words. "I was about to go for a walk, uh, I was wondering if you'd like to join me?" Stupid. So, so stupid, Y/N thought.

"No, I'm good." He replied, finding oh-so-amusing the way her eyes gave her embarrassment away – he was having fun, watching her like a lost puppy trying to think through her next words.

Her mind was, of course, over speeding. She now felt even more embarrassed. Of course he doesn't want to go for a walk, Y/N conscience spoke to her, it's a Tuesday night and he's probably tired and I'm his friends' Au Pair – he probably thinks I'm this young and annoying girl who has a stupid crush and- "would you like to join me?" He interrupted her self-beating up raising his cup and she noticed the half smile adorning his face, almost like he could tell the wheels in her brain were fast-moving.

"Wouldn't want to interrupt-"

"You're not. I wouldn't have invited you in if you were. C'mon in, now. It's kinda cold out here." He disappeared inside of his house, leaving her on his porch with an open mouth and a blank brain. After closing the door behind her and taking her black vans off, she turned on her left as she guessed that was the way Harry went – and she knew she’d guessed correctly when she stepped into a big open-plan concept living room with a giant kitchen on the far back, Harry standing with his back towards her preparing her tea, "sugar?"

"No, thank you." She sat in one of the stools at the kitchen island as she took the scene in front of her. Her very cute (and much older), very hot neighbor Harry, in sweatpants and a very thin white shirt, a small patch of skin showing on his hip, making her tea. His shoulders were broad and she could see his back muscles moving as he poured steaming hot water into the cup, the little curls on his neck so inviting, if only she could run her hand through his soft looking hair just once-

"There you go. Cardamom." He snapped her out of her (probably inappropriate) thoughts, and she thanked him as she grabbed the cup from where he placed it; he stayed in his position standing in front of her on the other side of the island, with his forearms against the cold marble, sipping on his own mug, thinking about how strange it felt to have someone he wasn’t close with sitting in his kitchen after so long. "Why are you up so late?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"I figured. I couldn't either, looks like we both have a bit of sleeping issues, huh?" He sounded playful, but tired. Y/N knew exactly how it felt, being so tired but not being able to peacefully go to bed and get some needed rest.

"I remember you mentioning it before, I figured I'd check if you were up. Walking helps me relax, thought maybe you'd enjoy it too." OK, that wasn't entirely true but her reasoning to be there was quite similar – to check if he was up so they could, maybe, share a quiet night like that one a few weeks ago. None of them understood why they found such comfort in each other’s company – none of them felt like they needed to try too hard.

At some point during their conversation they moved to the couch, where they laid with a wide gap between their bodies. "Elton John's was definitely an interesting read. Lots of crazy anecdotes, you should read it."

"Probably not as good as Keith's, but I'll give it a go." He let a dimpled smile creep into his face, turning his head to look at her from across the couch and the annoying turn her stomach made obliged her to return it, just as bright as his. Finding out their music taste was quite similar made Y/N’s insides all warm and fuzzy, he showed her his vinyl collection (which was quite large) and ranted about how the modern industry was missing a rock star with some of that unexplainable essence old rock bands have – to which she respond saying maybe that something that makes them special was the fact that they were old bands... added to the fact that even though she was an old music lover, modern pop was her guilty pleasure.

Their third teacups were long forgotten on the modern coffee table by the time he noticed Y/N’s eyes were slowly beginning to close and he, as last time, said, "it's really late." And Y/N only nodded and tiredly got up from her position, with him following close behind.

"Goodnight, Harry. Thank you for having me even though I came unannounced." She shyly said, her actions still making her embarrassed even though it had already been a couple of hours.

"My pleasure. We should- do this again," He coughed into his hand, and uncomfortably continued, "I enjoy your company." That sentence alone made her heart explode with a thousand emotions, because even though they barely knew each other and it clearly pained him to admit he enjoyed having her around, his presence made her calm but anxious in a peculiar mixture of emotions. All she did in return was gift him a big smile, face hot of embarrassment (a nice kind of embarrassment, that feeling when you just want to smile really big and tightly hug whoever is making you feel that way) and slowly pushed herself up on her tiptoes to give him a sweet kiss on the cheek. "Bye." He said lastly, and closed his front door with red cheeks and dimples on display.

- Joey.

#AP #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #age!gap harry #my writing

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horrorxweasley · 3 years

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(Part 2) The girl Mafia George x Fem! Y/N Series

Warnings: Swearing! (message if I missed any)

Word Count: 2K

Summary: George Weasley is a renowned Mafia boss who took over from his Father Arthur once he retired, to carry on the Triple W mafia legacy. The only mafia known to be able to keep the Death Eaters (their rival mafia) at bay. However there is one item that they stole from the Triple W’s which George is determined to get back…his mothers necklace, the family heirloom. Y/N Greyback has been forced to comply with the Death Eaters wishes as her family are high up members. What happens when George and Y/N meet? And what happens when they fall in love?

Series Masterlist

George couldn’t get the mystery girl from last night out of his head. Was it truly his mother’s necklace that he saw lying on her neck? It couldn’t have been, one of his men would have seen her enter Diagon if it was, either that or they would have already caught her roaming the streets. He didn’t recall seeing a dark mark tattoo on her left forearm, so she couldn’t have been a part of Riddle’s crew. Unless of course, they had gotten smarter and realised that them all having the same tattoo was a big give away. George couldn’t focus, he was sat in the Leaky cauldron, attempting to each his breakfast but continuing to get lost in thought.

Soon, George felt his pocket buzz, indicating that he had gotten a message on the phones that him, Fred and Ron had all gotten in order to keep in touch. He flipped it open seeing a text from both of his brothers, the usual update saying that ‘No one has yet been caught or seen trying to leave or enter Diagon’. The members stationed all round the boarder of the town were doing an excellent job, George had full trust in them that they had all been keeping an extremely close eye out for any suspicious or unusual behaviour.

George had well forgotten about his breakfast an morning coffee, trying to figure out any more ways he can ensure that Diagon was free from any Death Eater bastards. Being a mafia boss didn’t come naturally to George, so it was at times like these he struggled most, his mind racing with unreliable memories of the girl from last night and the necklace she was wearing. Hitting the table in frustration, George places his head in his hands and sighed.

He wasn’t one to confront a lady, but when it came to his mother’s necklace, he really had no choice, he had to find out where she was staying, who she was, and if she was in fact a Death Eater.

Y/N woke up the next day satisfied with what she had managed to achieve last night. She didn’t know much of George Weasley’s appearance other than the fact that he was tall and ginger. Which suited exactly the description of the man she had bumped into last night. Another thing she hadn’t expected was for him to be so handsome.

In all honesty Y/N felt it was cruel what she had been sent to do. She hated knowing that she would essentially be leading George to his death. Y/N has never agreed with the rulings that Riddle made, she felt that what he was preaching for was extremely prejudice, he wanted to get rid of every poor family so that “the rich could thrive”, Y/N’s heart deep down was set on truly helping those who weren’t as well off as the others.

Thoughts of going behind her family’s back and instead helping George take away all power from Riddle had become extremely prominent in her mind. She knew what she had to do, she had to find George Weasley again, whilst under cover so that the Death Eaters that are currently staying within Diagon don’t report back that they had seen her with George Weasley, the very man they’re trying to kill.

Her mind was set, she was going to purposely seek out George Weasley tonight and tell him everything her family and the rest of the Death eaters wish to do to him, and Triple W. Along with their plans to get rid of all poor people in England.

George had long since given up on his breakfast, and was now making his way back to the old fashioned bar in which Triple W held all of their meetings. As he walked through the building in which the HQ as it were, was located, he could hear a slight murmuring of voices coming from the bar room. Them most likely being the voices of other Triple W members catching up like they normally would, before a meeting began.

George walked into the smoke filled room, heading straight to the back where his seat sat in the centre, almost as if it were a throne looking for a king. He stood in front of his chair, clearing his throat as he looked round the room gaining the attention of the men and women before him.

“As many of you may know, we have had our first night with members scattered round the boarders of this town, and so far there has been no sign of anyone attempting to leave or exit Diagon”

Triple W members began to whisper their frustrations at the lack of Death Eaters being caught.

“Now I know this may seem bad news for right now as we haven’t caught any of those bastards quite yet, BUT, we also need to look on the bright side of things. This also may well mean that we are also, so far safe from any spies getting information of our whereabouts. This meeting is only a short one tonight boys…and ladies, so unless anyone has anymore questions or information they wish to put forward, you are all welcome to go back home, or stay and enjoy a drink”

George stepped away from where he was standing and went over to his brothers.

“So really no further info or suspicions for any Death Eaters, coming in or out, isn’t that suspicious I mean surely they would have sent someone by now” Ron says clearly not convinced that no information has been passed down.

“I was thinking that too y’know” Fred added

“Look, I agree, I surely think that if they were really serious about taking us down they would’ve sent a spy, but they haven’t. There is no doubt in my mind that they are dead set on killing each and every one of us, so this could be their tactic. Let us believe that no one is coming, therefore they wait until we eventually let out guards down, so they have easy access and a higher chance of getting to us”

“You’re not gonna let that happen though Georgie, surely” Fred said

“No of course not, all I’m saying is that this could be their plan, we’re not going to give up to easily just because we get bored due to there being no action, alright so just sit tight because we could be like this for months”

Fred and Ron’s faces both changed into realisation that that could indeed be true.

“Now, I’m gonna head back to the leaky cauldron to relax, keep me posted if any of the guys near you see anything”

With that, George walked out the room, into the streets and made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron, smiling at locals as they passed. Once at the pub he sat down right in the corner, only ordering a glass of water, picking up the local newspaper, ignoring once again the thoughts of who the mystery girl truly was that he had bumped into last night.

He felt a tad bit guilty for not telling Fred or Ron about how he had briefly spoken to a woman, about his age, wearing a necklace that looked suspiciously like the one that was stolen from their mother years ago. Before they were born.

George didn’t know much about the exact origins of his mothers necklace. The basic story he knew was that, his family used to be extremely poor, living off of pennies, barely getting by. Having 5 children at the time wouldn’t have helped either, more mouths to feed, less money to do so. That was until his Father got a massive promotion and therefore a raise in wage at his job. As a treat his Father bought his Mother a beautiful, diamond necklace to remember and symbolise that no matter how much they were struggling, that they were always going to find a way to get past it. Thus it became the most price possession to the Weasley family, becoming their heirloom. You can only imagine the hurt that George’s mother felt when she came back to their house one evening, to find the windows smashed and her necklace gone.

George was too young at the time to understand fully, the impact that the loss of that necklace had on his mother and father, and what it meant to them. But as he grew, and his father created Triple W in order to track down the people who stole it.

Y/N had gotten dressed, in a smart but casual outfit. She didn’t have any desire to be immediately spotted today so she had taken off the diamond necklace and placed it in her bag. She decided that she would try and seek out George today, as she wasn’t expected to have a meeting with another under cover Death Eater until tomorrow, to update them on her progress.

Y/N had decided to make her way down stairs to the pub area of the Leaky Cauldron. As she made her way down the stairs she couldn’t help but notice a fiery red colour sitting in the corner, in her peripheral vision.

She turned her head only to see the one and only George Weasley, sat with a glass of what looked like water, his head stuck in the local newspaper ‘the Daily Prophet’. Even though he had the paper up at eye level and was scanning it back and forth, his furrowed eyebrows and blank expression told her that he wasn’t really reading the newspaper, and that something else was on his mind.

Y/N reckoned it must have something to do with the people she has been forced to work for her whole life. She tentatively began to walk toward the ginger man. She could feel her heartbeat quicken, what is his reaction going to be when she tells him that she actually works for the people he is dedicating his life to defeating and that she is actually in possession of his mother’s extremely expensive and extremely valuable diamond necklace. Her hearing began to focus only on the beating noise of her heart and the noise of her shoes hitting the ground with every step as she walked closer and closer to George’s table.

She could feel the tension rising as if he already knew she was there and who she was. She had caught herself momentarily holding her breath, making her feel light headed and even more anxious at the confrontation she was about to engage in. To say she was scared of George was an understatement, she knew nothing about George or his character. For all she knew he could freak out and kidnap her away to wherever they had their meetings, and torture her for answers. At least, that’s what Riddle would do if the roles were reversed. The only thing that was helping motivate her feet to move closer and closer towards him, was the tiny speck of hope, that he was different to the people she had grown up around.

Her feet came to a halt after what felt like forever, she looked at the man in front of her with a some what calm expression. Y/N cleared her throat gaining the attention of George, who put his newspaper down on the table in front of him, meeting her eyes with his dark hazel coloured ones. Y/N smiled weakly at her before speaking.

“H-hi”

“Hello, you’re that lady that I bumped into last night aren’t you? I’m awfully sorry about that by the way, I hope I didn’t hurt you” he replied, she could hear the genuine concern for her safety which put her mind more at ease, maybe he was nice, maybe he wasn’t the type of mafia boss to torture people.

“Yeah I am, and I’m the one who should be sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going”

“No need it’s all good, what can I do for you?” He smiled

Y/N gulped down any nerves she felt, in order to stop her voice from trembling, she was terrified, not only of George’s possible reaction, but also of Riddle and any other Death Eaters that might see her with him, betraying him.

“We need to talk”

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @love-peachh @pens-and-roses @rosietoesy @comfortwriting @famdomhideout @dracofknmalfoy @pandaxnienke @georgeweasleysbabe @le-weasley-simp @skarlettmikaelson @gaycatlord-stuff @midgardianweasley @writing-wh0re (MESSAGE/ASK IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED)

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qqueenofhades · 4 years

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Question: were medieval peasants always on the edge of starving, as in couldn't waste food? Or did that vary with time and place? Thanks in adavance!

Well, I have to say that it must be fairly obvious that when we’re talking about a span of roughly one thousand years in an entire continent, in multiple countries/kingdoms/geopolitical situations, and over the course of large-scale, macro-level geographical, climate, crisis, and cultural incidents, it would indeed vary, sometimes wildly, and this is the case for almost any factor that you could possibly think of. It will not surprise you to learn that “medieval peasants were always on the brink of starving” is yet another tired old cliche from the Bad Old Middle Ages grab bag, and while it reflects a different system from modernity, it is not necessarily the case that it was always worse (especially considering the prevalence of hunger in the modern world and the parallel universes in food access between rich and poor, which were simply never that extreme in the medieval era). Today, there’s no relationship whatsoever between how rich people eat and how poor people eat; they exist in completely separate realms. Rich people simply have no worry about disruption to food supply, reliance on local economy or agriculture, the impact of natural disasters, or anything else; globalization and worldwide supply chains means that they can be assured of whatever they want, whenever they want it. Even wealthy people in the Middle Ages did not exist in their own ecosystem the way modern rich people do. Their food was grown on the same land, was subject to the same possible impacts of famine or crop failure, was reliant on having farm labor to cultivate it, and otherwise came from the same place as the food of poor people. Obviously class, status, and money affected what goods a medieval citizen had access to, whether in food or anything else, but food inequality and disparity is WAY more of a thing in modernity than it was in the Middle Ages.

Next, when we say “medieval peasants,” do we mean literal peasants, i.e. manual laborers tied to a single plot of land who worked it, harvested its crop yields, owed rent to a local landlord, and were often rural and on the subsistence level? Because obviously, there are social differences among peasants too, and some of them could be quite wealthy. In his usefully titled “Did the Peasants Really Starve in Medieval England?”, Christopher Dyer points out that the upper class of peasants, who had about thirty acres of arable land and access to common pastures, would easily be able to provide themselves with bread, potage (soup) and ale on a daily basis, have consistent access to dairy and meat, and even enough money to buy extra fish, meat, and prepared foods like pudding and pie from the village or market town. It would be easy for them to eat the usual 2000 calories a day, and their diet would be relatively flavorful and nutritious even by modern standards. Poorer peasants would be more reliant on just bread, potage, and ale, and have less access to meat and dairy, but they still weren’t outright starving. Manual labor doesn’t go well if the laborers are constantly underfed and/or weak from malnutrition, and while the poorest peasants’ diet would have been fairly monotonous and carb-heavy, it still would provide raw calories for energy.

Nor were food economies exclusively local, as that equally tired cliche that people never traveled more than ten miles from home would have you believe (honestly, where did that even come from?) As Food in Medieval Times puts it, “A remarkably wide variety of foodstuffs was available to consumers in the Middle Ages. Besides homegrown and raised products, exotic fruits and spices were brought by Arab merchants into the Mediterranean markets and sold across Europe at premium prices. Although bad harvests resulting in famine and disease occurred periodically, the staple foods -- bread, dairy products, cheap cuts of meat, and preserved fish -- were usually available to the general population. In richer households the foodstuffs were more exclusive and the dishes more sophisticated and varied.” Regional differences would obviously thus play a part. Common people in Iberia, Italy, and southern Europe would be more easily able to access certain delicacies not available in relatively barren England and northern Europe, and would be geographically closer to the Mediterranean markets. They still would not be able to afford expensive delicacies like saffron or other fine spice, but that doesn’t mean they never had it at all. There were many feast days and festivals in the religious and liturgical calendar, and communities would come together with food just as they do now.

There were also social welfare systems and safety nets, wherein, for example, ageing peasants could retire and be provided with a food pension by their landlord (there are numerous legal contracts of this nature, which had to be written down since what a surprise, the landlords didn’t always keep their word or honor their obligations). Even serfs didn’t have to work until they keeled over; they could take retirement and be provided with a portion of the food yield of the estate from their working-age peers, indeed rather like Social Security. There were also almoners at churches, monasteries, and other religious houses, who relied on donations from rich patrons with guilty consciences in order to feed the destitute poor, like a modern-day soup kitchen. These arrangements would obviously not have covered everybody (once again, we note, food banks and food stamps and other arrangements don’t do that for modern people either), but it doesn’t mean there was no recourse.

Of course, the food economy was more perilous than it is now, and more prone to natural disasters and agricultural disruptions. There are certainly famines recorded throughout the medieval period (such as the Great Famine of 1315-18), and several years of bad harvests could have a devastating impact on rich and poor alike. (Since again, the rich didn’t have their own entirely separate ecosystem; their food had to come from the same place as their poorer counterparts.) Climate change, too little rain, too much rain, drought, fire, pestilence, or anything else, in the absence of industrialization, mass farming techniques, factories, or anything of the sort, meant that food supplies were vulnerable to the natural environment, and people did die of hunger in the bad years. While standards did also change and improve over time, the earlier (pre-11th century) medieval period was not necessarily always worse. After the Black Death, when there were simply much fewer people than before, and increasingly so in the late fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, peasants usually had fairly reliable access both to raw food and cash to purchase prepared food. By the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the threat of widespread food catastrophe had largely subsided; there aren’t any major famines recorded in Europe at this time, though we daresay they had plenty of other problems (not least the wars of religion). Of course, that little thing in 1492 had also happened, opening up the Columbian Exchange and new routes of supply to the New World, including large-scale transportation and trade of food.

As I’ve mentioned in at least one other ask, people also knew how to cook food properly; someone studied the latrines at Warkworth Castle in northern England (don’t ask me who thought that this is a fun research project, but it takes all kinds) and discovered a remarkable lack of food-borne pathogens. In other words, even without modern safety standards or exact temperature guidelines, people were well aware how to cook food so it tasted good and wouldn’t kill you. They also took pride in doing so. In “The Evolution of Culinary Techniques in the Medieval Era,” Barbara Santich explores the evolution of written recipes from a few notes intended to remind the chef of something they already knew, to a more detailed programmatic for someone who might not have actually made the dish before. Skilled cooks were highly prized members of middle-class and upper-class households, and people who had money to spend on food enjoyed banquets, diverse dishes, and whatever delicacies they could get from their local merchants and markets. The extensive system of medieval trade networks, as mentioned above, meant that consumer goods could travel a very long way indeed, and while you couldn’t walk into a supermarket and get whatever you wanted whenever you wanted it, there would be at least some opportunity for you to acquire something new.

Anyway, yes. Medieval peasants: usually not starving. There you have it.

#history #medieval history #history of food #anonymous #ask

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alistonjdrake · 3 years

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June’s World Building Cheat Sheet Part Nine: Multicultural

I kind of touched on these subjects before but as I’ve been doing lately I’ve had more thoughts and I want to do a deeper dive.

Honestly while I’ve been thinking about this for a while and briefly mentioned it in a previous post, it really hit me when I was playing Crusader King’s 3 and my character became the Norwegian-Irish Emperor of Britannia and France, and a lot of my subjects had some qualms with my cultural identity and as I watched areas of England get Norwegian-nized and names changed I started thinking about cultural markers.

To put it simply, a “cultural marker” is basically just something to quickly pinpoint where someone is from or what their heritage is. Of course these are not always super specific and there is overlap. Like, me saying I speak English does not immediately make it obvious that I’m American. But if I talked about what I grew up eating, regional slang, some things people wore commonly, you would probably be able to narrow it down. There’s also what I tend to refer to as the stereotypical cultural markers so if someone was to say “I’m from X” what’s the first thing that comes to people’s mind that they relate to that place and that culture?

I also started thinking deeply about language and language as an extension of someone’s identity. This also stood out to me in the case of empires or in places were dozens of cultures have blended. At some point, language either is or isn’t an extension of someone’s background but the language someone does speak can say a lot about them or the area they grew up as I mentioned in my last post with regional dialects or when a certain language might be considered the “default” among some characters.

Now, as always, I have to say I do not think it’s extremely pressing to give fantasy cultures so many layers. I don’t think it’s always necessary to have a throwaway line about people speaking multiple languages in your metropolitan city or the fact that the culture is either not a monolith on its own or new people have moved in. Do I think it spices things up a little bit? Of course. That’s why I’m talking about it.

The lack of especially falls short to me in settings, as mentioned, that are empires or densely populated or considered “centers” of the world. How many times have I read a fantasy university or guild settings or these expansive cities and all the characters were more or less from the exact same place, all spoke the same language, pretty much ate the same things, and had the same opinions on anything not a huge plot point.

So Let’s Talk About Language (Again)

I’m not gonna lie. My nerd brain loved it when my Norwegian-Irish emperor took over England and instead of the names of familiar places changing completely they were just changed to sound slightly more Norwegian while still looking enough like what it used to be. I am upset with myself for never considering this before in my own work or thinking about it when I craft fantasy worlds, especially in settings where one group or place takes over another. The language would change or there would be shifts due to either

The sounds for the original thing they’re trying to say do not exist in their language

That’s simply how they pronounce it

Maybe they were feeling frisky that day and decided to change it just because.

I think we see this most often especially with borrowed words. When a word more or less exists in several languages maybe because they’re taking on a title or a position, it’s not so much that the word changes but each one has to put their spin on it. Not always intentionally it might just be how they say it given either the limitations of their own tongue or how they heard it.

In my last post I began to touch on this with the introduction of people speaking the same language differently in my Grazan Escan vs “regular” Escan dialect (the basis of this discussion just that people who live in Graza in my setting speak the language slightly different than non-Grazans which sometimes makes the language hard to understand for even native speakers). Last night I had another breakdown about how much I hate the common tongue and the concept of the common tongue and I’d like to also mention that if there is going to be a “common” language in a setting, I myself tend to use Escan as the common language because Escan is an imperial nation and have intentionally spread their language all over the place so a lot of my characters speak it, I think it is important to have some context as to why a language would be so widespread/ common. Someone would have had to go to these far places and teach people how to speak this language (and somehow walk away with it having no regional differences). Why would people in this setting think it a good idea to even learn this language if they have their own and rarely communicate with people outside of their community? What is the impact of a character having to take up another language in order to? In my recently finished draft of The Night Court, due to my own temporarily fleeting memory I forgot one of the main characters was going to a place where he could not speak the language and spent that entire half of the book asking for translations and not being able to speak to certain characters directly. Which, now that I’m done with the draft I appreciate more because I’ve definitely been in situations where I’m in a new place and my poor planning and education made me the only one who couldn’t speak the language and I had to have friends help me.

This is where language as an extension of identity comes in. Could this character have assumed that his first language was dominant enough where he could travel to new places and not have to learn anything else? Or was it just bad luck and now he feels isolated in a setting where he cannot speak to anyone? What are the implications behind someone’s first language based on where they live? I just wrote two posts now talking about Prince Toli of the Escana Empire’s first language not being Escan and how that impacted his early life and how he appears by the time we meet him in the books. What does it say about the world characters live in where what language they speak and what language they learned to speak first has such an impact?

And in the reverse, what is the perception of someone being multilingual? It is expected in a setting? It is a bonus? A requirement of certain jobs or positions? A necessity to live in certain areas? Given how much court intrigue and political scheming I write I tend to have characters switch languages to avoid spies or eavesdroppers but on the other hand it’s also easier to make new allies if you extend the branch by speaking their language.

Are there official languages? Court languages? Trade tongues? Coded languages you’d only learn for very specific purposes?

Clothes And Culture: Sumptuary Laws & The Fashion Police.

This is a point I missed completely in my fashion post and I’m sorry about that. As with all my “advice” I feel it important to note I don’t ever expect anyone to go the extra mile nor do I usually think people need to. These are just things I like to sprinkle into a setting to give in breathing room or background information so it doesn’t feel like it was created just to serve a story purpose, but that it’s a world people live in.

On that note. I’m very passionate about clothing. I’m encountered a lot of fantasy fashion in my day and I understand why people don’t ever find it relevant to mention certain things but as my setting is a late 18th century world in which the common people are starting to realize that royalty kinda sucks, it’s something I can talk about.

Like, the extensive labor that goes into making sure my royal characters have 100s of different outfits. Fashion is cheaper than its ever been but that was not always the case. There’s a reason why often see people in ye old days with only like 2 outfits for any given occasion. Characters and people who had constant changes weren’t just fashion forward, they were showing off wealth whether or not that was front of mind. To give some context as a lover of historical fashion and beautifully detailed garments, I did some quick math to see how long it would take me to recreate one of my favorite gowns by and. Given the intricate details, all the delicate beading and lace and all the fabric I’d have to buy (I didn’t even get into costs) it would have taken me at minimum 50 years.

Now does anyone need characters going around talking about how Princess Zurina is wearing a gown that would have taken one man 50 years if not for the staff of seamstresses who likely work on her wardrobe? No. If a character in a setting is a seamstress or if the story has anything to do with wealth distribution and the extravagance and waste of the super rich, sure maybe throw it in there. One half of the book I’m working on is about political cartoons criticizing the royalty and wouldn’t you know if I go back to the time period I’m basing my work off of, you can find a lot of jokes and slights towards outrageous dress because people back then understand the labor that went into these garments.

This is where I’m going to mention sumptuary laws. Basically, whenever I do my dives into fashion history I’ll find a lot of policing towards the way people dress. I mean we still have them now but maybe they’re not as apparent to us? And a lot of them used to be more class-oriented. One should not dress above their “means” or status which is where we get certain fabrics or colors meant only for certain types of people. But it also happened in the reverse where certain groups are designated things to wear so other members of the community know who and what they are. People not being allowed to wear certain things either because they would be related to deviance or offensive. Like characters in my setting cannot wear any shade of green around the king because dark green is the Escana mourning color and it would be considered as cursing the king to die.

Are there punishments for wearing the “wrong” thing? Is exaggerated wealth or having too many outfit changes something calls criticism if the character is at the top of the food chain (or maybe criticism them no mater social standing)? Are there any unwritten dress codes in a setting that people unknowingly follow? In settings where multiple cultures might exist or people from different backgrounds exist in the same place, do their choices in dress reflect cultural markers? And is there a stark difference between traditional (to a culture) clothing and modern dress?

I think really I’m spewing this out because I want to see more culturally rich settings that reflect some of the stuff that I think is the most interesting things about a person which is what they wear and how they speak. But again, this is a personal preference and it’s just stuff I think about.

#world building #worldbuilding #long post #is this advice so much as me talking about things I think are cool?#idk really #I want to be clear I don't expect to open a book and see like outlines of fashion laws or something but I like small added details like the #green thing or maybe a character saying they had to learn a new language in order to be in x place #y'know this is also relevant to sci-fi #I think if I see another character travel to a different planet and have no mention of language barriers or having had to learn #I'm going to explode #it's just one line I'm not asking for a conlang

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messymindofmine · 2 years

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OK so this post is probably going to be long and convoluted but I feel like the things I have to say are important and I implore and encourage everybody who sees this to please read and share with me. One of the reasons I think Zayn is so important is not simply because he is South Asian like me but because he is a South Asian who grew up in Britain in one of the most racially segregated areas in the country. What Americans as a whole don't seem to understand is that the way race and racism is defined in America is not necessarily defined the same way in other parts of the world. The UK for example does not define racism in the exact same way as America. As someone who had followed Zayn since the beginning of his career, it's pretty obvious to me how his experiences (specifically his experiences as a mixed race, South Asian Muslim from the North of England) have shaped his views on topic like racism. Yet I've also seen this aspect of his identity go completely over the heads of far too many American (both white and nonwhite) fans. This isn't meant to be an attack on anyone but rather me pointing out just how American-centric the discourse on the way Zayn has been treated is. I've even gotten into several disagreements with fans (some of whom are South Asian) about this. To start, it's important to recognise that race itself is not viewed the same way in Europe and the UK as it is in America. Brexit for example was an act of xenophobia against Eastern Europeans (particularly Polish) but Eastern Europeans are still white. But they still face a great deal of harassment and will often be discriminated against like POC in Britain. Southern Italians aren't treated the same as Northern Italians even in Italy and thus don't necessarily view themselves as white the same way they would be viewed by Americans. In fact, Irish, Welsh and Scottish people aren't treated the same way as English people are in the UK. And with Ireland in particular, there is also the history of partition (something we South Asians know a thing or two about). Irish, Welsh and Scottish people were also forbidden from speaking their own languages by the English colonists for a long time. There is a reason why there has been such a massive push for independence from England since Brexit by all three countries.

All that said, it is important to acknowledge that even Eastern and Southern European people do still have white privilege as do Irish, Welsh and Scottish people. An Italian, Polish etc. person can change their name and adopt a different accent and find acceptance and of course you could argue that this is something they should never have to do at all and I would absolutely agree but the fact remains that it is something POC can not do no matter how hard they try. As far as South Asian in Britain are concerned, the horrific history of colonization continues to play a role today. With regards to Zayn, I have seen British South Asian people get attacked by Americans (often by American POC) when they try to explain why Zayn would react to something the way he did or why he said what he said. And I've had to deal with that too as a South Asian who has spent enough time in the UK and the US and thus has a different perspective than American South Asians. Because I have faced not only attacks but also simple microagressions such as being expected to be the spokesperson for all things regarding Zayn's entire identity (as have other South Asians) it has made me extremely sensitive and admittedly I have lashed out at other fans before who have said something that rubbed me the wrong way. The kicker is that sometimes I even agree with what the person is saying but disagree with the way they've said it. At any rate, I do think there is a fundamental misunderstanding among American fans in general about Zayn's background and how it has impacted his views. Obviously, there are certain things about the South Asian experience that are universal and thus South Asians around the world are able to relate to him but it is important to acknowledge the fact that Zayn is British and thus his views on many things (including racism) are not going to be exactly same as Americans. Obviously, I can't claim to know the entirety of Zayn's views but I have been around long enough to have gotten a pretty good idea of where he stands. It's honestly a bit hurtful the way far too many American fans in general have a tendency to talk over British South Asian fans when they try to offer some perspective to the things Zayn says. I'm not saying that all American fans are like this but I do think it's important to point out that this is something that happens among the fandom and I know plenty of British South Asians who deleted their blogs because they felt so discouraged by the backlash they got. Hell even American South Asians who were able to look beyond the American centric view had to deal with backlash.

Honestly, this whole issue goes beyond just Zayn. There is a serious issue that I've both noticed and experienced when talking to American fans. I have no doubt in my mind that they have nothing but the best intentions but there is often a serious disconnect between Americans when they talk about the racism Zayn us experienced and British South Asians who are trying to explain why the issue goes deeper than they think. I'm not one to beg people to read or share my post but I will do it this time. Please, to all my fellow Zquad members especially the South Asians, take some time to look and share. I'm happy to have a discussion but please don't just scroll by

#zayn #zayn malik #desi tag #racism

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raeynbowboi · 4 years

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Dating Disney: The Hunchback of Notre Dame

It’s been a while since I’ve done a dating Disney, so this is a return to form. Except this one is going to be super easy because the date is spelled out very clearly in the book. The story begins on January 6, 1482. This is even mentioned directly in the lyrics of “Topsy Turvy” which states “ Scurvy knaves are extra scurvy | On the 6th of January | All because it's Topsy Turvy Day.” So our story is set at Notre Dame in Paris, France on the 6th of January, 1482. The film opens on January 6th, and there are about 2-3 nighttime scenes when Quasi and Esmeralda discuss their palms, Quasi and Phoebus go looking for Esmeralda, and the Battle of Notre Dame, though it’s uncertain if the Battle takes place at night or if the smoke of Paris burning makes it seem like night time. So the film ends on either January 8th or January 9th, 1482. Now, it’s time to compare to actual history.

The Cathedral of Notre-Dame

Notre-Dame de Paris is a catholic cathedral whose construction began in 1163. The structure was largely completed in 1260, but the model we know today was finished in 1345. Each of the rose windows were installed between 1225-1260. Still, the structure as shown in the film would be consistent with our 1482 setting.

Le Palais de Justice

The Palace of the City was constructed in 1240 and saw reconstruction from 1857-1868.

The Romani People

From what I’ve found thus far, it seems the Romani people migrated from North-Central India and first appeared in France around 1419, so thus far, still accurate. Due to the cultural drift of over four centuries, it’s unclear if the Romani of the time knew their Indian roots or deliberately hid it, but most Romani that entered Europe referred to themselves as having Egyptian origins. It seems the majority of Romani people who entered France earned the moniker of “Bohémien” due to arriving in France with letters of protection provided by Sigismund of Luxemburg, The Holy Roman Emperor, and King of Bohemia. The slur of G*psy is inaccurate and anachronistic, as it is the English name for the Romani derived from their believed Egyptian heritage. However, the Romani did not arrive in England until 1514. So they should be using the term Bohémien or Égyptien[ne]. instead. Because of their nomadic nature, the Romani needed a lifestyle that could travel with them. Romani women often read fortunes and sold herbal medicines, which that Catholic Church lumped in as witchcraft, causing the Romani people to become distrusted by Christians as devil-worshiping exotic foreigners come to leech off of “good God-fearing society” and tempt the white man with their devilish tricks and sorcery. This likely has a major impact on why most pop culture depictions of the g*psy stereotype almost exclusively are women, as the men did not partake in these practices, and thus do not have the same mystic witch parallels that the women have. Still the idea that the Romani are lying thieves who beg for money and swindle people affects all Romani, even to this day. Please note, this information is based on what I could find in my research, and is not infallible, all encompassing, and there may be further details regarding the history of the Romani people in Paris that I simply did not have access to.

The Gargoyles

The Gargoyles don’t exist. That’s literally the only way you can watch this movie is if you pretend they’re all figments of Quasi’s imagination. They bog down the film, put the tone in a choke hold, and chew the scenery. They’re also single-handedly responsible for most, if not all of the anachronisms in this film. Just pretend they aren’t real, and maybe you’ll be able to preserve your sanity. Pulling pianos and poker chips out of fat air. But the playing cards aren’t totally inaccurate. The patterns we recognize today as the standard 52 card deck emerged in Rouen, France in the 15th century. So the cards might be a newer invention, but they likely would have existed in 1482.

Phoebus only needs to brandish a sword for the guards to instantly recognize him as their captain. While I don’t remember the exact year this became a standard, it was relatively common practice in Medieval Europe for only soldiers, guards, and nobility to carry arms, while peasants were strictly prohibited.

After escaping the guards, we see Djali smoking a pipe. However, this is inaccurate, as Tobacco was a discovery of the New World, and Columbus sailed the Ocean Blue in 1492, a decade after this movie. Granted, he never landed in America, but that’s besides the point. Tobacco would not yet be available in Europe. I suppose it’s possible the pipe could be used to smoke something else, but going by Occam’s razor, I’ll have to chalk this up as an anachronism.

Captain Phoebus is called from “The Wars” to be Frollo’s peacekeeper in the City of Paris. These wars are never given a name, so I took a look at a list of wars involving France and see what Phoebus may be referring to. What he may be referring to is the Bergundian Wars of 1474-1477. But as you may notice, that conflict would not be congruent with the year. The Mad War also involved France, but that war began in 1485, three years after the film. France was involved at the Battle of Guinegate in 1479. But again, none of these wars would be on-going during the film. So, maybe they’re referring to one of the many crusades? Unfortunately, the only Crusades happening in 1482 is the Reconquista, which was a period lasting 781 years from 711 - 1492 during which time, Christians fought the Islamic powers in the Iberian Peninsula to reclaim the peninsula for Christianity. Not exactly “wars” so much as a period in Medieval history. Beyond that, France was not directly involved in this conflict, though I suppose a pious enough Christian could have joined the fight to reclaim the peninsula. However, this is the only conflict. The Hundred Years War between England and France ended in 1453 leaving no other outstanding conflicts for Phoebus to be referring to.

Setting: Paris, France Kingdom: Kingdom of France Period: Late Medieval Period Starting Date: January 6, 1482 Ending Date: January 8 or 9, 1482 Language: Middle French

#dating disney #The Hunchback of Notre Dame #hunchback of notre dame #notre-dame de paris #notredame de paris #notre dame de paris #quasimodo #esmeralda #phoebus #claude frollo #frollo #djali #romani #paris #france #paris france #1482

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cali-holland · 4 years

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Learn To Be Lonely, Ch. 1: Chance Encounters

Tom Holland X Reader, Soulmate!AU

In a world where two souls are destined for each other, is it possible to find love when your other half has passed- or are you truly destined to have a lonely heart forever?

Word Count: 3400

Learn To Be Lonely Masterlist

Masterlist Tom Holland Masterlist

*gif is not mine*

~~~

Kingston Upon Thames. It sounded so foreign to you, and yet it was now your new home. Three weeks ago, your whole life was in New York with your best friend, Kate, but then you lost your soulmate, the soul destined to be with you. It was then that you realized your life would never be complete if you simply kept waiting for the other vagabond soul searching for yours; no one could complete your life now, no one except for you.

Now, your life was in England- Kingston Upon Thames to be exact. Normally, you’d be scared out of your mind to move to an alien land, you’d never make such an impactful decision so quickly; but that was the old you, the lost girl still searching for her soulmate. You were living a new life now, a free life, because you weren’t just living for yourself anymore, you were living for your soulmate that wasn’t. Today was the big day of this new life, the day that you’d move into your new apartment, the day that you’d meet your new roommate, the day that your new soulmate-less life would begin. Though Kingston was an unfamiliar place to you, a strange land of tea and British accents, it already felt like home. Something about it drew you in, as if you were fated to be there- it also helped that your company was international and you were able to transfer to the London office. Sure, it’d be a commute, but nothing you weren’t used to.

“You sure about this?” Kate asked you. Standing on the sidewalk outside of the apartment complex, you both fiddled nervously with your luggage. You had packed up as much as could in your two suitcases and a few packages of some more of your things were currently getting shipped overseas to your new home. Your New York apartment was small anyway, so you didn’t have much stuff to bring over; and you were grateful that your new roommate, Daisy, had been so welcoming about you two sharing items in the apartment. You had never met her in person, but she seemed like a respectful roommate and a responsible person; you hoped she was those things in real life.

“Yep,” You nodded, letting out a small breath. You scratched your wrist lightly, the mark was still burning from weeks ago. Looking over at your best friend, you laughed, “I’ve already signed the lease.”

“True.” She shook her head. It was too late for you to back out now. You took a deep breath and opened the complex’s front door. Holding it open for Kate, she stepped in first and you followed after her. It wasn’t anything special, a simple small entryway, the same as any apartment back home would be- you stopped your thoughts, this was your home now, not New York.

You and Kate made your way over to the narrow staircase. Before you could process what had happened, someone came bounding down the stairs in a hurry, knocking into you harshly. In a flurry, his hands grabbed your waist to keep you from falling over completely.

“I’m so sorry, my bad.” The stranger said, steadying you. As you looked into his warm brown eyes, you forgot for a moment what was happening; you forgot all about your nerves over this move, about your other half being gone. Something about this stranger felt… like home…

“It’s alright.” You replied as he dropped his hands from your waist.

“You’re a long way from home, aren’t you?” He laughed a little, immediately picking up your American accent.

“Not anymore.” You nodded down to the suitcase in your hands.

“Welcome to Kingston then, darling.” He smiled, and you felt an urge to check your wrist, but you knew it was no use. Your mark was faded, there was no way this beautiful stranger could possibly be your soulmate- the universe had already decided your fate, and it was to be alone. “Well, I should get going. Good luck on the move.”

Without another word, he left the complex. Kate smiled softly at you; she knew how much you were hurting without a soulmate, how much you still would like to find that extraordinary love. Your fingers lightly traced over your faded mark. For the first time since your birthday, it wasn’t burning.

The two of you continued your way up the stairs and followed the blue and grey carpet down to the last apartment in the hallway. The navy door had a gold ‘16’ posted on it, and you reached into your jeans pocket, pulling out the little silver key. Kate smiled encouragingly at you as you unlocked the door. You pushed the heavy door open, stepping inside the apartment. There was a long hallway that served as an entryway, with a small shoe rack nestled in beside the door.

“Hello?” You called out into the abyss. You had told Daisy that you were on your way, and you had hoped you weren’t disrupting her. You walked further into the apartment with Kate following behind you. You stopped in the kitchen, taking in the perfectly spotless room, granite counters seemingly untouched and dark mahogany cabinets shining. With a single teapot sitting on the stove, nothing was out of place. A small wood table sat in the nook with four chairs around it, all of it matching the cabinets in the kitchen. The living room, fitted with a couch, coffee table, desk, and entertainment center, connected the kitchen to another hallway, which had four closed white doors down it.

“You’re here!” A voice came from the first closed door in the hallway, and it swung open to reveal Daisy. Her curly brunette hair framed her face perfectly as she came into the kitchen, an warm, inviting smile on her face. A tall blond followed her out of what you assumed was your bedroom; he offered you a much more timid, but still welcoming smile. “I’m so happy to finally meet you. I’m Daisy, but you already knew that.”

“Y/N, but you knew that too.” You smiled at her eagerness. You pointed over to Kate, “This is Kate, she’s here for moral support.”

“Nice to meet you.” Your friend held out a hand to Daisy, who took it happily.

“This is Harrison. You’ll see him around a lot.” Daisy laughed and he stepped forward to give you and Kate polite handshakes. As he shook your hand, you saw the full heart on his wrist, matching Daisy’s own wrist.

“So, um, this is the kitchen, obviously. You’re welcome to use whatever you’d like. As long as you clean the dishes and don’t break anything, I’m pretty much fine with you using my dishes. I have more than enough anyway.” Daisy explained.

“Why don’t you show her her room before starting on the kitchen?” The boy asked with a laugh.

“My bad.” She laughed, “I’m excited. Come on, I’ll show you your room.” She led you and Kate through the living room and down the hallway. She explained how the first door on the right, the one she had emerged from was hers, the master bedroom with an en suite bathroom. The door right beside hers was just a small laundry room and glorified linen closet. The door on the left served as your bathroom, with blue and white tile lining the walls. She opened the door at the end of the hall- your room.

You smiled, stepping into what was now yours. A large queen size bed sat in the middle of the room; it didn’t have sheets, but the mattress looked welcoming enough. There was a small black nightstand beside the bed, accenting the black bed frame. It wasn’t much, but you knew you’d need to go furniture shopping anyway- there was no way you were paying to have your old New York furniture shipped to England. You found yourself looking out the window that gave you a beautiful view of the bustling street below you.

“A few of your packages showed up early, so I set them in here.” Daisy stated, pointing out the few boxes in the corner.

“Thank you.” You set your suitcases down beside your bed, already knowing you’d have to start with unloading your sheets if you wanted a decent place to sleep tonight. Kate had one more night at the hotel before her early flight tomorrow morning. You were thankful that she managed to fly out with you to help you adjust to your new life, but she couldn’t afford to miss much work.

“Well, I’ll let you get settled in then. Let me know if you need anything.” Your new roommate smiled at you and Kate one last time before she left your room. You began to unzip your suitcase, seeking out your bedding, as Kate opened the boxes in the corner.

“She seems nice.” Kate said, grateful for a good impression of your roommate. She lowered her voice so that Daisy and Harrison couldn’t hear, “Maybe Harrison’s got a hot solum friend.”

“Please,” You chuckled, shaking your head at her. You pulled out the pearl colored sheets from your suitcase and began to make your bed. “You know solums aren’t supposed to move on.”

“Y/N, you have nothing to move on from. Give yourself something to move on to.” She spoke softly. You knew your friend wasn’t trying to hurt you, but, between your wrist beginning to burn again and the truth in her words, you felt a twist of pain in your heart.

“I’m going to live my life for myself, not for anyone else. I don’t have a Leo like you do.” You stated, trying to convince yourself of your own words. No one was going to live your life for you; you had to live it for yourself now.

“Hey,” Kate came over to you and pulled you in for a tight hug, “I’m proud of you for all of this. You’re the strongest person I know, and I’m so lucky to have you as my best friend. You’re going to do amazing out here.”

“Thanks. I’m going to miss you so much.”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

You barely slept that night. Jetlag mixed with the new timezone, your body was already rejecting its new schedule. The new bed was comfortable, but the bare walls made the room feel cold and unwelcoming. With only the nightstand in your room, most of your clothes remained in your suitcases and boxes- with the exception of the clothes that you could hang up in the closet with the few hangers you had managed to ship over. It felt more like a sad hotel room than a new bedroom, but still it was home and it was a work in progress. You go up early, only having slept about an hour, to see Kate off at the airport. After tearful goodbyes and promises to call each other often, she left and you were alone in England.

By the time the cab had dropped you off at your apartment complex, your watch told you it was 7 AM, as in 2 AM New York time. You needed sleep, but you also needed to go out and shop for furniture today. Pulling out your phone, you searched for the nearest Starbucks because, while you now lived in Kingston, you were still searching for an American coffee, even if that meant settling for a Starbucks drink. Once you found one just a couple blocks away, you made your way over there. Stepping inside, you weren’t surprised to see the place practically empty, save for the few employees working and the two people waiting for their drinks. After going through the motions of giving the cashier your order and paying for the warm drink, you stepped aside to wait for your drink to be served.

“Hey, you’re the American.” A voice laughed lightly from beside you and you looked over to see the same stranger from the apartment complex just yesterday afternoon.

“That’s a nice nickname that applies to so many people.” You joked, smiling at his effort.

“So, how did the move go?” He asked.

“It went well. My new roommate’s a sweetheart, so I think we’ll get along well.” You replied. You weren’t sure why you were telling a stranger this, but something was drawing you to him. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Tom.” He smiled, holding out his hand for you. When you touched hands, you felt an odd sensation surge from your wrist. It wasn’t burning in pain anymore; instead a dull vibration was sent up your arm to your heart. You didn’t physically react to it, but you wondered if Tom had felt that. Your eyes scanned your wrist quickly, just to lead you back to the faded half a heart mark. You glanced over at Tom’s wrist, wondering what his mark was like, but it was covered by a perfectly placed watch. Whatever his mark was, he sure didn’t want anyone to know.

Before either of you could say anything more, the barista called out his name and his order. He stepped forward and grabbed the warm, white cup.

“I’ve got to go, but maybe I’ll see you around, Y/N.” He smiled at you one last time, before he left the coffee shop. You stood there, trying to hold back the butterflies in your stomach, as you waited for your own drink. As your wrist began to burn again, it reminded you of just how useless it was to ponder on the beautiful brunette boy that you kept running into; you were fated to be alone and you had to learn to be lonely.

When you returned to your apartment, you started to organize your room a bit more. You sat on your bed, the only place to sit in your room, and wrote out a list of things you knew you’d need: dresser, extra hangers, desk, desk chair, lamp, trash can, bookcase (you weren’t even sure about that one). It felt strange to be writing out such a mundane list of things you needed, things that you already had at your old apartment. It was going to be near impossible for you to complete your room on your own.

“Good morning.” Daisy greeted you with her warm smile as you came into the kitchen a few hours later. She was pouring herself a cup of tea from the silver teapot on the stove while Harrison ate a plate full of eggs at the kitchen table.

“Morning.” You replied, even though it had been morning for you for the past several hours. You paused, realizing you had forgotten where the cups were in the kitchen. Sheepishly, you asked, “Where are the cups again?”

“Here.” Your roommate opened the cabinet closest to the fridge. It was full of cups, mugs, wine glasses- she even had champagne glasses in there. You were surprised she had lived alone, or relatively alone, before you.

“Thank you.” You grabbed a glass and filled it up with water.

“How was your first night here?” She asked, blue eyes filled with tender excitement.

“Didn’t sleep well. I think it’s from the time change.” You answered, shrugging hopelessly, “It’s alright. I’ll get used to it.”

“Is New York five hours behind?” Harrison piped up after swallowing a large forkful of eggs. You could already tell that maybe you wouldn’t share groceries with Daisy because he’d most likely eat them all anyway.

“Yeah it is. So it’s 5 AM for me right now.” You laughed lightly as you eyed the large clock on the wall.

“Do you need any help getting settled in? Haz and I don’t have any plans today.” Daisy offered.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I was just going to go find an Ikea or anywhere I could get furniture.” You didn’t want to make her feel like she needed to help you. She was already the sweetest, most hospitable roommate you had ever had.

“Let us help. Besides, Haz needs to go to Ikea for his own flat. And you don’t have a car. I can drive.” She insisted. You paused for a moment- you had completely forgotten that a car would be incredibly helpful with furniture shopping. You’d need to figure out the roads here before you could even think about buying a car.

“My flatmate owes me a new bookcase.” Harrison chuckled, “He’ll probably join us, too, if that’s okay.”

“You’re offering to help me settle in here, of course I don’t mind if he comes.” You replied.

Less than a hour later, Daisy parked her large SUV at Ikea and the three of you got out of the car. You thanked her for the ride as she casually slipped her hand in Harrison’s. You felt a small wave of pitiful envy come over you; you once yearned for something as simple as that, but that wasn’t a part of your life now.

“My friend will be here soon. He’s at an appointment right now.” Harrison said as the three of you walked into the large store. Daisy sent her boyfriend a sympathetic smile, making you wonder just what the “appointment” was to get such a reaction from her.

“You got your list?” Daisy asked you, her usual bright smile back on her face.

“Yeah, I feel like I’m going to need to buy a lot today.” You laughed, looking at the small piece of notebook paper you had brought with you, various black pen written over it for things you deemed essential, not-so-essential, would-be-nice-if-you-had-it, do-they-even-have-it-here, and ask-daisy-if-they-have-it.

Walking through the various showrooms, you tried to find the best items for your new home. You had drifted away from Daisy and Harrison a little bit, as they got caught up looking at bookshelves for his apartment. You walked into a relatively empty showroom and your eyes wandered the room for anything interesting. Your gaze stopped on a beautiful black dresser; its woodwork matched your bedroom almost perfectly.

“Y/N?” You pulled away from the enthralling dresser by someone calling out your name. You looked over to see Tom standing only a couple feet away from you in front of a tall, black bookcase that accompanied the dresser.

“Tom, three times in twenty-four hours. Are you stalking me?” You joked.

“Damn, so the bushes weren’t that good of a hiding spot then.” He teased, making you laugh. He came over to stand beside and he looked over the dresser before his chocolate eyes found yours. “Apartment didn’t come with a dresser?”

“Sadly, no. I’m living pathetically out of a suitcase.”

“I’ve got this same one at my place. It’s good and not that expensive, too.”

“How often are you shopping at Ikea?” You laughed, but taking a mental note that you’d most likely be getting this dresser- it was perfect for your room before Tom had even said anything.

“Not that often, actually.” He shook his head, chuckling at the thought. “I need a new bookcase, though.”

“I think my roommate’s boyfriend was looking for a new-” You were cut off, by Harrison and Daisy coming into the showroom.

“Tom! Where’ve you been?” Harrison smiled, clapping the brunette boy on the back. Tom stood there looking between you and Daisy with a broken expression on his face.

“So, Tom, you’ve met Y/N. She’s my, um, my new roommate.” Daisy said and you could feel the awkward tension in the air. She weakly smiled at you, trying to comfort you.

“I just- I need some air.” Tom quickly left the showroom, his right hand on his heart. Harrison rushed after him, and you turned to Daisy, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern.

“What just happened?” You asked her quietly.

“It’s nothing. Tom is his roommate, and he gets a bit stressed around strangers.” Her eyes focused on the dresser in front of her. You were only more confused by her response. That had been the third time you’d encountered Tom since moving to England, and not one of those times did he seem stressed about you being a stranger. You knew there had to be more to it, maybe Tom knew her old roommate.

“I like this one.” You told her, nodding to the dresser and changing the topic off Tom. Your right hand subconsciously found your left wrist and gently rubbed over the mark that had started to burn yet again- it only ever stopped burning when Tom was around.

~~~

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mallowstep · 3 years

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when all the leaves change in the fall — research masterpost

so i’m writing a human au set somewhere in the 1910s in ireland (really, around 1905-1914ish), and i just needed to throw all of my links and such into one place.

it’s…not a heatherlion fic, but it’s not not a heatherlion fic

anyway, well, you’ll see. if you want to read this.

census data (introduction)

so i was able to find the census data for 1911 in ireland. those of you who are up to date on your irish history (pun intended) may be aware that in the nineteenth century, england “unionized” with ireland.

i can’t believe i’m saying this on a fucking warrior cats blog, but we’re not doing irish history discourse. it’s a complex issue. i come from a family of irish catholics. draw your own conclusions.

anyway.

there’s a lot of important and relevant history that i’m skipping over because this post is supposed to be for me, and you’re not here to read irish history, but basically: there’s a 1851 census and a 1901 census, and nothing in between.

in short, it’s quite lucky i have the census data for the time i need.

since i was able to find this (and i gotta say, it wasn’t easy, like, usually i’m like, “research is just a thing i do” but it was surprisingly difficult to find), and like most national archives it’s…not to be rude, but the site is ugly.

but here’s the home page for the data, with helpful other links including a tram timetable. (and yes, that is very exciting. if you’ve ever written historical fiction, you know how exciting that is. if not, welcome to my descent.)

i was originally focusing on individual names, but i have to name the whole family, and i have all the data, so let us begin.

irish history (short version)

jk you do need a bit of knowledge to understand my decisions.

if you don’t know, the 1850s is approximately the great potato famine. if you don’t know anything about it: it’s worse than you imagine. extra credits did a good series a while back.

england’s rule over ireland will lead into the troubles, a religious conflict that wasn’t…well, okay! let’s just say, it’s like, a joke that you don’t want to talk about it because people feel strongly about it. hopefully, most of you don’t. i do, but i’m being not biased, okay?

anyway, feature history did a two part series if you want to get caught up.

finally, you may ask, matthew, why the heck are you writing about such a weirdly specific time in history? to which i say: well, i wanted to have a religious conflict between heather and lion’s families, in such a way that it would make sense for them to grow up and realize they couldn’t be friends.

my mother’s family is irish and my dad spent a lot of time in northern ireland when i was a toddler, so naturally, it was just a thing i knew about. to the point where it had an impact over my name. it’s a long story that i’m not telling here.

anyway, when i think religious conflict that spirals into a real, violent conflict, i think: catholics and protestants in ireland. it’s far from the only example, but it’s one i know a lot about.

so why, then, am i starting in the 1910s? well…i need heather and lion to be friends growing up, and there’s a particular crisis leading up to world war one that makes 1914 a good date for this fic to cover.

also, i like this era of historical fashion.

alright, now that we’re all on the same page, i can get into what i actually want to talk about.

lion’s family

so now that i have my census data, i was able to actually look through specific families to name people after. that’s right, i’m…at the point in my life where i researched specific families and counties to name my human au warriors after.

this is why? i never talk about the…i think now 3? human aus in the work. like, i can’t say, “okay, there’s holly in this one” because like, her name might be holly in one and minnie in another, you don’t know!

anyway, i searched by head of family, under the following criteria:

church of england

can read and write

married

english (language)

3 living children

and then paged through every result to get just those with (at least) 2 sons and 1 daughter.

that gave me fourteen families. i saved all of them to a one tab list in case my first choice didn’t work out.

my first choice being the harris family.

i had a lot of good choices (one family with a daughter named violet was particularly tempting), and another with a son william and a daughter annie mary, but i liked the harris family just…in my gut.

that gives us:

bramble: joseph henry

squirrel: henrietta

jay: joseph henry

holly: henrietta lillian

lion: ian roy

which, well, i hope you can see why i chose them, even though this is a lionblaze centric fic and they don’t have an l in there.

great! am i going to backfill past this? not unless i need to, which is the point of me making this well documented research. i’m going to go through some of the other families at the end to find a leafpool name, because we do need her.

heather’s family

next up! we need a family of catholics in the same general area as the harris family.

so, back to the search.

i was able to narrow it down to the same street as lion, which is great.

honestly, the weirdness of this does not escape me. sue me, it’s warriors fanfic, i like researching. i could do this and just stitch together several families, or something, i don’t know. there’s something appealing to me in knowing that i have done my due diligence.

anyway, we’re again searching by head of household, and:

roman catholic

married

irish and english (language)

1 living child

cork (county)

fermoy urban (ded)

king street (townland/street)

and i again went through and kept only families with at least one daughter. or really, a wife, husband, and other female person in the house.

you can view that list here.

the flanagans were the clear winner here, with their singular daughter named hannah. (parents: john and mary.)

breezepelt’s family

and after that we’re still not done because i need crow, night, and breeze.

i’m searching with the same criteria, this time, though, i’m only keeping families with at least one son.

while i’m doing this, shout out to paddy patrick for being a real person.

here’s my full choice list. this time, i want to match crow’s name more than breezepelt’s, because there aren’t a lot (if any) b names. nightcloud would be nice, too.

i had a tough choice to make here, because there was a norah & john, and a cornelius & catherine. (couldn’t i just combine them? you’re missing the point. this is fun, i’m having fun.)

i ended up going with the cotters, because i preferred james for breezepelt.

this gives us

crow: john

night: norah

breeze: james

are you having fun with two johns? i sure am.

also worth pointing out is that people aren’t actually on the same street. i’m not searching with exact match on. they are all still in the same county, and that’s good enough.

extraneous

i have more than enough names to name any character i need, but some character names i may need.

leaf: looking for single, church of england, women. we’ll be using irene may key

fire & sand: just to fill in where leaf left off, thomas james & alice elizabeth, respectively.

cinder: had to remove the church of england restriction to find her, and then i had too many choices (i’m not paging through like 100 people, okay?), so i decided to search under injury “other,” just to narrow down the options. i chose sarah hanan, who also lives with her brother (nice touch).

and at this point i decided i had more than enough names and the ability to hunt down more whenever i needed them if they came up.

other stuff

i was going to do more than names but then i got tired whoops. it’s like, almost 1 am i’ve been doing this for like an hour.

anyway, that’s fine bc i know a lot about the other stuff i was going to talk about and now you know! i’ve done a bunch of families because that’s how much i care about accuracy.

#mine #txt #6th #June #2021 #June 6th 2021 #research #watlcitf #warriors #essay #q #11th #June 11th 2021

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blogie2705 · 3 years

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The great glaciatic meltdown

A titanic piece of Greenland's ice cap estimated at 110 square meters had split and started to float away towards the far northeastern Arctic, flagging a grave risks' that is bound will follow, and the glaciatic obliteration has recently gazed. The part that severed is toward the finish of the Northeast Greenland Ice Stream. It's 42.3 square miles (110 square kilometers) or around multiple times as large as Central Park in NY. This ice desert split away from a fjord called Nioghalvfjerdsfjorden, which is roughly 50 miles (80 kilometers) in length and 12 miles (20 kilometers) wide, as distributed in the National Geological Survey of Denmark and Greenland diary. In any event, being the coldest spot in the outside of the world's air, this district has recorded an increment by enormous 3 degrees Celsius since 1980," as per Dr. Jenny Turton, a polar analyst working Friedrich-Alexander University in Germany. What's more, even with the European landmass recording the most noteworthy temperatures ever, in any event, throughout the mid year of 2019 and 2020.

The previous few months have seen heap features of chilly liquefying – especially in Greenland – and ice sheet breakdown. According to the report which was distributed in the diary Nature Communications Earth and Environment, Greenland's ice sheets have contracted such a lot of that regardless of whether an unnatural weather change were to stop at the present time, the ice sheet would keep contracting a similar distribution further cited satellite information, the Greenland ice sheet lost a record measure of ice in 2019, comparable to 1,000,000 tons each moment across the year. Another paper which was a paper distributed in The Cryosphere, educated that an amazing ice misfortune wasn't brought about by warm temperatures alone yet in addition credits to and non-occasional and remarkable environmental flow designs as the significant reason contributing gigantically to the way the ice sheets quickly of shed's their weight. As these environment models that project the future softening of the Greenland ice sheet don't consider for adjusting barometrical examples, there is an undeniable degree of plausibility that they might have been thought little of by a proportion of 1/2.

According to a report distributed in September 2020,, the last completely flawless ice rack in the Canadian Arctic – the Milne Ice Shelf, which is greater than Manhattan – fell, shedding an abundance of 40% of its space in only two days somewhat recently of July. Which frightened researchers to notice the example of a floated piece of a Mont Blanc icy mass – the same size of Milan basilica – was in danger of breakdown and occupants of Italy’s Aosta valley were organization to clear their homes? The most noticeably terrible was on the way. A British Antarctic Survey along with a group from the USA, planned depressions estimating a large portion of the size of the Grand Canyon that are permitting warm sea water to disintegrate the immense Thwaites icy mass in the Antarctic, speeding up the ascent of ocean levels across the world. As indicated by the International Thwaites Glacier Collaboration, the icy mass measures bigger than England, Wales, and Northern Ireland set up and if it somehow happened to implode completely, worldwide ocean levels would increment by 65 cm (25 in). This isn't the finish of the story. Nature has planned glacial masses to go about as a scaffold or as a cushion between the warming ocean and different ice sheets. A breakdown is sure to convey adjoining ice sheets in western Antarctica down alongside it. This welcome with open arm a cataclysmic situation where the ocean levels will undoubtedly will be an ascent of ocean level by around by a stunning 10 feet, forever sinking some low-lying waterfront regions that incorporate those pieces of Miami, New York City, and the Netherlands, which is a visa for implosion.

An Earth-wide temperature boost as the actual name conveys, walks ahead unabated. While the Paris revelation on environmental change promised to confine a dangerous atmospheric devation to 1.5℃ in any event, during this century, a report by the World Meteorological Organization cautions that breaking point can be penetrated as ahead of schedule as 2024. As per Prof Anders Levermann from the Potsdam Institute for Climate Impact Research in Germany, it will be a judicious to anticipate an expansion in the ocean level more than five meter's, regardless the objective set up in Paris have been accomplished 100%Hence is the obligation of each person to be responsible for their activities, to do all that could be within reach under the sun, not anticipating other's to act. Each nation has distributed standard rules to be clung to, if which followed will bring down the chance of early disaster y striking us early. One of the potential risky Thwaites ice sheets is bigger than England, Wales and Northern Ireland set up and if the inescapable occurs, there is high likelihood of a significant part of England and Wales being gulped by the Atlantic.

In August '20, the last completely flawless ice rack in the Canadian Arctic – the Milne Ice Shelf, which is greater than Manhattan – fell, losing in excess of 40% of its space in only two days toward the finish of July. Researcher's admonished that that an enormous piece of a Mont Blanc ice sheet – which is in the same size of Milan house of prayer – was in danger of breakdown and inhabitants of Italy's Aosta valley were told advised to clear their homes. Further adding to the anguish, a British-American Antarctic review group planned depressions estimating a large portion of the size of the Grand Canyon that are permitting warm sea water to dissolve the tremendous Thwaites icy mass in the Antarctic, speeding up the ascent of ocean levels across the world. A report in the International Thwaites Glacier Collaboration has cautioned that if the ice sheet measures bigger than England, Wales and Northern Ireland set up and if it somehow managed to implode completely, worldwide ocean levels would increment by 65 cm (25 in).

There is no sign that ocean levels won't increment further. Icy mass goes about as a guardian angel, go about's as a support between the warming ocean and different glacial masses. The impending breakdown has the ability to drag adjoining ice sheets in western Antarctica down with it. The most pessimistic scenario most dire outcome imaginable can be that see ocean levels ascend by almost 10 feet, for all time lowering some low-lying beach front regions including portions of Miami, New York City, and the Netherlands meets the substance of the Titanic, which was viewed as resilient and it is amusing that the landmass will be let go in a similar floor. An unnatural weather change is presently a really worldwide proceeding unabatedly. Paris statement expects to restrict a worldwide temperature alteration to 1.5℃ by end of this century, anyway worryingly, a report by the World Meteorological Organization cautions this breaking point might be surpassed by as ahead of schedule as 2024. As per Prof Anders Levermann from the Potsdam Institute for Climate Impact Research in Germany, there are high prospects of ocean level's expanding more than five meters, regardless of whether the objectives of the Paris Climate Agreement are met. Over the year’s each administration has understood the degree's of obliteration that environmental change would incur in their nation and are taking each conceivable measure to even the smallest risk exacting the country. The aggregate exer

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