medeaied

[medeaied]

and if the missus mercy had her world ( small as it was upon lancaster gate ) go entirely according to her own plans, johanna barker would even been educated. would have been taught to sing and dance, to mind her manners, to curtsey and say more beyond her ‘ please and thank you ’ and ‘ yes ma’am ’; to manage a household as easily as her own emotions were managed — for looking at her now, golden and pretty as she was, the missus mercy cannot help but see something far more pitiful; a waste of a keen mind; left to run wild an attempt to make her malleable for whatever perversions the hanging judge wished to carry out under the crooked shadow of the law. but, it is not johanna’s fault. the girl has done well enough, the missus mercy supposes; given the circumstances — and it is hard for any flower to grow, let alone bloom, when left to wither in the dark.

“ yes, child. my own girls were taught as much, as was i – though i admit neither inherited my affinity for the pianoforte. ” and the missus mercy tries not to sound terse, god’s truth, she does! and how rarely she succeeds at such a feat; lips puckering at the way johanna’s fair features twist in both elation and panic. her nostrils flare with a deep sigh, staring down her sharp nose at the girl for a moment; all too keenly aware of her hand upon the girl’s warm cheek. small and soft, and utterly fragile — dependent on the kindness of another. like any good christian, the missus mercy will deliver it; and johanna will thank her, whether she understands why or not. and she will, the missus mercy thinks; pale eyes casting a glance up to the hazy, smog filled november sky.

a moment of quiet falls between them; slow and contemplative as she watches the girl melt against her touch, starved for any kind of affection offered and given. it is brief — as long a mercy as she will allow; before her hand drops to her side — though it is at johanna’s words; her praise, so prettily sung ( and given without leading and prodding ) that brings a genuine smile to missus mercy’s thin lips; slow and wide. it does not quite reach her eyes. “ you are ever too kind, my dear. ” how she preens; head tilting to take johanna in. her smile is a bit too wide, all teeth — a cat who has just caught a bird and brought it to its owner, mangled and limping on the floor. of course johanna would be a great success, more so than her own daughters had ever been; because unlike her own foolish girls, johanna listened — and that was more than enough. “ come. i have had you all to myself for enough time. as much as it pains me, my dear girl, to return you to your home; it must be done. ” and it was not so much a home as it was a prison; the missus mercy supposes she is akin to a gaoler, marching an innocent towards her untimely execution — slow, drawn out; inevitable.

unless the missus mercy had anything to say about such a fate — and she certainly did; lacing their arms together and a gloved hand gently pats at the younger woman’s; the gesture not so much caring as it was automatic. expected. a hallmark of a good wife and mother, who always knew when she was needed. “ we will go slowly, though. i will not return you to the lord in your current state; or there will be no more walks entirely. ” a pause; and she wets her lips, mouth twisting as she anticipates another flurry of panic, another outburst of fear. “ you understand, yes? you must be calm, johanna. entirely so. there is much i can do for you, but you must keep yourself in check. it is a necessity. ”

the missus laughs, and it is crueler than she had ever expected directed at her; she retreats a little back into her shell, back into where it is safe for her, even if, in this case, safe is synonymous with numbed. there is much that she is ignorant of, johanna knows this, but is it her fault? is it something that she could have so easily rectified with some string of actions that she did not know were available to her? she does not wish to blame the judge, not for everything, but she cannot help the stirrings of resentment that start up in the pit of her stomach, adding their voice to the ever-present fear of him that she has lived with for most of her life.

it takes everything in her to try and not flinch as her guardian is referred to as her father––whether she succeeds is another story entirely. "m-music? and, and dancing?" the very idea has dual, conflicting effects of both thrilling and terrifying poor sweet johanna, and it shows in her face, sure as day. features contort, brows furrowed close together, dimples carved deep, lips pulled taut and near-quivering. much like the ocean, she is pulled one way and then another, merciless and choppy, swirling round and round and round.

at the softening of lillian's expression, so too does johanna's, and she all but melts into the palm of her hand with a gesture of such affection. she is used to being desperate for kindness; it's the receiving of it that nearly does her in. "if i do shine, as you so kindly predict," her voice wavers a little, as though she does not quite believe it, but also does not wish to contradict her mentor, "it will only be because i have had you to look to."

[medeaied]

" my dear girl, i did not accept mister mercy's proposal - my parents did. " johanna is naïve; dangerously so - unaware of what the missus mercy considers simple and plain matters. it is, she supposes, her responsibility to teach the girl - but it does not stop the bubble of cold laughter that bursts from her; sardonic, biting, mouth pulling into a downwards grin as the mask slips. " marriage is not so much about love as it is about security, johanna. he was simply the only one who could provide the life to which i had grown accustomed to, and that made him more than suitable. " granted, her own dowery had smoothed over the minor blight of her own name, untitled, unlanded - but the third son of a baron could hardly be so picky... unlike some. and missus mercy is not so foolish as to rush johanna off to the darkened halls of the shadowy convent ( no, prison ) she has the misfortune to call home - though johanna may flutter and beat at the bars of her cage, missus mercy keeps her steps slow. measured. much like her thoughts as they brew in her mind - befitting a lady. how could she be so foolish as to ask that, when she had just wept and near wailed in the park, jeprodisring them both? it is enough to give her a headache - and she can feel one forming at the base of her skull. her own daughters were stupid things - she'd thought johanna better. she had to be better. yet it seemed that once again, missus mercy alone, prevailed - what any of them would do without her, she did not know.

" how to hold yourself in public, etiquette, social graces - your father is a titled lord; and that is an entirely different realm than this. you are to know music, the art of conversation, dancing - how to manage a house and its staff, how to stick to budgets and delegate. a woman is as much an integral part in a machine as she is a doll. " always performing. and though missus mercy considers herself most worldly, it has escaped her notice that her youngest is meeting in secret at the garden wall. looking at johanna now, she is not entirely sure if she should even be dressing like a young lady - perhaps she ought to go back to ribbons and knee high skirts - but the fault does not lie with johanna, it lies, as it does with so many other things, with her guardian.

her expression, pinched and puckered, softens at such an adoring expression - she cannot fathom why her own daughters do not look at her like this, after all she has done for them - after all she will do for them. and as her expression softens, so does her resolve; and a thin hand moves to cup the girl's rosy cheek. much better than her own brats, indeed. " if i have anything to say about it, you certainly will. " she will miss the christmas season, the winter balls - perhaps the spring will be kinder. " and you will shine there, dearest girl. "

an incurable sense of curiosity has long since plagued her, she's just never had much in the way of occasions to let it shine––until now, anyway. "and what was it about mister mercy that made you accept his proposal over the other two?" these walks of theirs have always made some room for johanna to relax and speak more freely than usual (for her to speak at all, in truth), but she has never taken advantage of the opportunity granted to her before today. the genie is out of the bottle, so to speak, and it will take a fair amount of wrangling to get it back in there again; they still have a ways to go before having to return to lancaster gate, at least, despite already being on the path home again. such is their saving grace, in a way.

brows inch closer together once more, not so much in distress, rather in befuddlement. her education in general was lacking, derived almost entirely from the frosty governess of her childhood and the few educational tomes deemed suitable for her delicate eyes. "w-well, befitting a lady in which ways?" she learnt more than her guardian had intended, perhaps, and johanna has the baby of the mercy family to thank for that, sweet christopher, slipping her books that the judge thought ill-suited, and discussing his own lessons (among other things) over the garden wall when they were able. she does not confess any of this to the missus mercy; she is a girl for who secrets are strictly forbidden, and so the few that she does have are clung to dearly.

all the same, when it comes to society, jo has only the few scraps of miss austen's work that she has laid her eyes upon over the last few years to go off of––about as old as the reticule of her mother's that swings from her wrist, she thinks. nevertheless, there is little reason for her to dwell too long on such things, especially when she is bestowed a gracious honour such as a compliment from the woman who might as well be a mother to her, the closest thing she might ever have to it in this world. "do you suppose ... i might ever get to attend such a party?" though her voice is reduced to little more than a whisper, there's a spark of frightened excitement that alights her gaze, aimed so adoringly up at lillian as it is.

[medeaied]

[medeaied]

Stoker (2013) | dir. Park Chan-wook

[medeaied]

@skywaits

You can make a little girl into anything if you say the right words. Take her apart until all that's left is her red, red heart thumping against the world. Stitch her up again real good. Now, maybe you get a woman. If you're lucky. If that's what you were after. Just as easy to end up with a blackbird or a circus bear or a coyote. Or a parrot, just saying what's said to you, doing what's done to you, copying until it comes so natural that even when you're all alone, you keep on cawing Hello, pretty bird at the dark.

Catherynne M. Valente, Six-Gun Snow White.

[medeaied]

Hieu Minh Nguyen, from This Way to the Sugar: Poems; “Teacher’s Pet”

[Text ID: I could be a liar. I could be remembering / the wrong details. Details. Details: her office is still / a lost thing. Darkness holding the ember hostage. / There is nothing in this story that’s not a dagger.]

[medeaied]

do you care her.

[medeaied]

meg and i realising the layers we've added to this dynamic by making lucy from a well-to-do family:

[medeaied]

lillian's affair and the judge being the biological father of the majority of her children is a cornerstone of her character as well as a large plotpoint in meg and i's au and dynamic - it's also important that i talk about it here as well.

i would like to begin this by saying that it was not love; nor was it an obsession on the judge's part. i view the judge as a man who likes to 'chase and conquer' women before inevitably getting bored with them - lillian is the wife of his neighbour and work rival; the affair is a snub on archie chiefly from tur.pin's point of view, even if it has not been revealed to archie at all. at its core, the affair was one of convenience for lillian given how lonely she felt in her own marriage; and naturally fizzled out over time as her duties as a mother grew ( and even so, they have the MOST divorced aura when around each other ).

the affair began in early 1825 when archie was sent away for work nearly a year after lillian had given birth to elizabeth. circuit judges are often shuffled around the court system; and archie was no exception to the rule. lillian, who had always felt sidelined in the marriage, felt even more alone after the birth of her child and was struggling with bonding with elizabeth given her own post-partum depression. being alone in the house with a child she was expected to interact with did drain lillian - she is a social woman by nature and did not like being stuck in the house; especially now that her husband was away. it was all too easy for the judge to give lillian the attention she craves - and lillian encouraged it. it was sporadic and inconsistent, even at its height - only occurring when archie was away for work and the window of opportunity was there - and became a way for lillian to 'get back' at archie for the percieved abandonment, and for a way for the judge to humilate archie. by the time christopher was conceived in june of 1828, it was beginning to fizzle out given lillian's new responsibilities surrounding her soon to be 4 young children - and stopped altogether after christopher's birth in 1829; with the judge growing bored and lillian too busy to entertain any advances from anyone.

currently? as i said, they have the aura of a divorced couple despite never marrying. lillian has kept proximity to the judge only to serve her interests ( again, she feels the estate and title should pass to her youngest son and has plans to make that happen ); and he sure as hell does not respect her ( or any woman, actually. ) - their relationship is one of mutually assured destruction. they each have the power to unleash a scandal that would ruin the other - but at the cost of ruining themselves as well.

[medeaied]

happy mother’s day <3

[medeaied]

of course lillian is Not Like Other Girls! she's a misogynist! 🩷

[medeaied]

lillian, ever extroverted, keeps a rather large and wide social circle ( one that she considers herself to be the centre of; and she does go to great lengths to make it appear that way ); ranging from minor lords to the occasional duke to the wives of other judges and noblewomen of the realm. lillian is a fixture in london's high society; having made waves in her own season and with her continued presence thereafter ( punctuated only by time off when she was much too pregnant to go in polite society, and after she had given birth. ) while the mercys do not often host - lillian is a vivacious party guest and planner; charismatic and charming when need be; and knows how to make the people around her feel both important and listened to ( so long as she, in turn, remains at the helm of the interaction ); armed with sparkling wit. she remains a favourite at gambling parties ( though she is always careful to never bet more than she has allotted; unless a gentleman is there to save her ), teas, luncheons and balls.

one can often find her surrounded by others in conversation - the faces change and the ages vary; but she is most happy in social situations where she is at the centre of them, and far away from her london townhouse and family.

[medeaied]

GILLIAN ANDERSON as BEDELIA DU MAURIER Hannibal 3x06

[medeaied]

if there was ever a woman in london who did not forget even a perceived slight - it was missus mercy. and while, of course, her own slights were forgivable; others were not - not often, not usually; and briefly does her hand move, grasping johanna's as they begin to make the all too short path back to 58 and 59 lancaster gate; gloved fingers lacing with johanna's. all is well, the touch seems to say - and the corner of her mouth quirks upwards into the barest trace of a smile.

" you need not sound so astonished, dear girl! " and she tries to feign displeasure; she does - her grey hairs and the wrinkles at her eyes and brow are, after all, a sore spot - and like so many things, best left unmentioned. pining after the glory days she'd refused to leave behind. her own parents, god rest their souls, had done their part; bought her ribbons and dresses and called her their beauty; their fortune maker. and so she had made their fortune - it all rang hollow. " six. with two proposals before mister mercy. "

yet - it is more teasing than anything; preening and half smug at the younger girl's astonishment; how wide her eyes had become! the judge had done an excellent job at keeping johanna from the world; but even with that iron fist and that terrible noose, he could not stop johanna from wanting it.

and lillian could recognise that same wanting within herself - she could. no one ever told young girls just how dangerous wanting was. and she had wanted - wanted all eyes upon her; wanted approval and status - wanted so much some days she felt consumed with it; the constant refrain of how her life should be different - different husband, different home. much like touching a hot stove, it burned. " i was excellent at keeping beaus. there's a trick to it - you must keep them wanting. " they'd have lined up just to kiss her hand.

" were you not given an education befitting a lady? " johanna's comment, again, gives missus mercy pause; thin brows knitting together - it seemed that this was a walk that had more revelations than the good book; and she looks down her nose at the girl, equal parts curious and worried. " i fear that reflects rather... poorly on your guardian, my dear. " as do other things. things that johanna need not hear about - and never would, if god was good. and briefly worried that she might have yet again distressed the girl, lillian squeezes johanna's hand - and bestows a rare gift that even her daughters had not received. " i see no reason why yours would not be full. you are a beautiful girl, johanna. and you have been raised by a... man of good standing. " perhaps an over-exaggeration; but johanna's beauty and manners would more than make up for the latter. " they'd be fools to not ask to dance. "

"of course," her head bows, slightly; both in acknowledgement of the clarification and as something akin to a tacit apology for having implied otherwise, even if it was her intention to begin with. she never wishes to offend, or to find herself on the wrong side of the handful of people she has in this world, not when they number so few.

there is a rapt audience to be found in johanna, who hangs on to every word that leaves the older woman's lips, relishing in the easement that's started to ebb in and lessen the load on her chest. these walks of theirs are entirely too short and seldom, but all that means is that she has learnt to cherish them ever more. already, so much of today's stroll has been spent working through that physical manifestion of her distress–and she will not let any more of their precious time be spoiled. not if she can help it.

"six," she repeats, equally as hushed, and astonishment is clear as day in her eyes, the storm within them slowly beginning to roll away as their conversation steers away from the darker contents of her own life. the girl tries to imagine what it must've been like to stand in missus mercy's––then miss fitzwilliams, she supposes––place, how it must boost one's confidence to catch the attention of so many young men, to feel desired, to have all those choices and such freedom at your disposal.

johanna has often found herself wondering how her parents met, what their story was. she knows nothing but what others will tell her, and none are particularly impartial. all that is ever told to her is how her father is a criminal, her mother was terribly ill; as though that answers any of the questions that have crescendo'd within her since childhood, that make her wonder who (what) she's descended from, what she's destined to be.

"i should hardly know how i ought to act at, at parties and balls, ma'am." shyly spoken, a faint blush returning to her cheeks, though whether it is out of embarrassment or longing is up in the air. "i do not think a slot on my ... dance card would be in high demand." not if the young men of society favoured their feet remaining painless, she thinks to herself, having only ever read of such gatherings in a few of the books she has been permitted to read.

[medeaied]

“How exactly did your patient die?”