#celia Pope

[earth-1218designate]

Not the same as when I saw "Fury Road" nearly 10 years ago at Magic Johnson theater with a grill in my mouth and an Afro-Cubano tattoo artist by my side.

Still watching "Furiosa" today had me going back to fond memories like that one or when one of my college Professors bought me this art book with the canvases above.

George Miller is that dude.

[zundely]

To celebrate Pridemonth I wanted to draw my all Dragon age ships. So here are Celia and Leliana looking at the stars. Sometimes you just need a hug from your tall bard wife and listen to her talk about stuff that you know absolutely nothing about but sound very interesting non the less.

[fictionadventurer]

Potential March Reading:

Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett

Celia's House by D.E. Stevenson

Something by C.S. Lewis

Something by G.K. Chesterton

Something by Tolkien and/or Wendell Berry

Something by Rumer Godden and/or Elizabeth Goudge

Jesus of Nazareth by Pope Benedict XVI

Gospels of Mark, Luke and John

[seaside-writings]

Hello, hello, all you holly jolly people! It is the first day of my “12 Days of Prompts” event and we're starting off with something a little scary.

Every Christmas season there are two horror movies that my family and I watch over and over again. The first one as you can call see is “Krampus” and the second you’ll see later on!

Krampus is by far one of my favorite Christmas movies, I know that sounds strange, but it’s the truth. I love the monster designs, how the characters a portrayed, and how it still feels more like a Christmas movie than a horror movie, even during some of the actual horror parts. Plus, I like that it doesn’t try and take itself too seriously.

So if you haven’t seen it yet, I highly recommend it!

Like always if you do use these prompts please tag me so I can see what you’ve made!

I hope you all stay blessed and safe throughout your day.

Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays: Celia ❤💚❄⛄🎄

“It started with the wind, on a cold night, much like this,” - “It's Christmas. Nothing bad is going to happen on Christmas!” - "That's what a family is, baby. People you try to be friends with, even when you don't have a lot in common,” - “You're not thinking of going after that snowplow alone, are you?” “A Shepherd's gotta protect his flock,” - “It's the blizzard, honey, nothing's working right now,” - “They can see dust specks on Mars, but no one noticed a giant blizzard hurtling towards us,” “Well, as soon as the power's back, you can write an angry e-mail to the National Weather Service,” - “I would just be calmer if I knew how we were gonna survive Christmas with 12 people stuck in a house with no hot water, no heat, and no electricity,” - “You know, she and I, we butt heads, but I can't imagine life without her,” Yeah, I know what you mean,” _ “And that night, in the darkness of a howling blizzard… I got my wish,” “Oh, lay off of him! The kid deserves a prize for telling the truth!” - “It's just a scratch,” “Oh, my gosh,” “It looks like something bit you.” “Nope! Probably a bear trap under the snow or something,” “We don't have bears here,” - “Dear Santa, I know I haven't been great this year and I'm sorry for that, but I was really hoping you could help out me and my family this Christmas,” - “So, where’s the nog? I need to get merry,” - “Come on, kids, I'm gonna teach you how to make peppermint schnapps,” - "A little sugar, a little spice, makes everything nice." - "I haven't been this hungover since the Pope died." - “But Krampus didn't take me that night… He left me, as a reminder of what happens when hope is lost, when belief is forgotten… and the Christmas spirit dies,” - “They too had given up. And eventually, so did I,” - “What’s she saying?” “This… This is all our fault… he’s come for us all... He?” - “And for the first time, I didn't wish for a miracle, I wished for them to go away… a wish I would come to regret,” - “I'm old enough to know when life is coming at me with its pants down,” - "Listen, why don't we just leave? Right? We can all pile in the truck and we'll just see as far as we can get, and we can pick up-” “The truck's gone,” - “And I just wanna say I’m sorry for… thinking you’re such a spineless dick all these years,” - “Poor bastard must have sailed clear through,” “Looks more like the opposite,” “What’d you mean?” “The glass is punched in,” - “Don't suppose you got me a backup generator for Christmas, did you?” “Yeah, it's under the tree next to your ties and underwear,” - “Blah blah blah. Bullshit, bullshit. Ah, here we go, the wishlist!” - “Enough with the sappy crap, let's open up the damn presents,” - “See? Let them out of your sight for one second, and boom, shotgun wedding,” “Can you not, please,” “Well, you ought to know,” - “What did you see up there?” “You don't wanna know, sweetheart,” "Honey, I just got my ass kicked by a bunch of Christmas cookies, so trust me when I tell you I can take it!" - “It's not starting! It's not starting! Why isn't it starting!?”

“I think our best bet is to stay put, board up all the doors and windows, and as soon as the weather breaks, we'll go find her,”

“Hey, asshole! I take back my wish, I take it all back! Give me back my family!” - “I, um-- I just wanna say thanks for, uh, you know, saving my ass back there,” - “Twisted fairytale horseshit!!” - "I've hunted a lot of game in my day, those are hooves. Big ones too. Could be an elk or a goat,” What kind of goat walks on its hind legs? - “How much ammo do you have?” “A couple shells still loaded, maybe a dozen in my pocket. Why?” - “What? “She said we're screwed,” - “They had forgotten the spirit of Christmas, the sacrifice of giving. And my family was no different,” - “And as he had for thousands of years, Krampus came not to reward, but to punish, not to give, but to take,” - “I tried to help them to believe again, but we were no longer the loving family I remembered,” - “I knew Saint Nicholas was not coming this year. Instead, it was a much darker, more ancient spirit. The shadow of Saint Nicholas. It was Krampus,” - “I just wanted Christmas to be like it used to be, but forget it! I hate Christmas! I hate all of you!” - “Evil Santa? She’ll be yammering about a rabid Easter Bunny come Spring,” - “What are we gonna tell the kids?” “I don't know. The truth?” “Sure, which version of it?” - “Yeah, well, you know-- she always gets a little weird around Christmas,” - “Baby, please don't do this, listen, we can figure something else out,” “This is how I figure things out,” - “You had mom's angel this whole time?” “Yeah, I thought you knew,” “No,” - “It was almost Christmas, but this Christmas was darker, less cheerful. But I still believed in Santa, in magic and miracles, and the hope that we could find joy again,” - “I'm sorry, I just wanted Christmas to be like it used to be,” - “Our village had given up on miracles, and on each other,” - “Remember we used to fight over who got to place her?” “Yeah, you fought dirty, I still have the scars,” “Where do you think my girls get it from?” - “I don't like this,” “Whoever did this is a demented son of a bitch,” - “Come on, come on, please,” “I'm trying! I don't even know how to drive a stick! We have a hybrid! - “The snowplow?” “The keys were in the ignition-” “And it was beat to hell!’ “But if it runs, I drive it back here, and then everyone piles in the car and follows while I clear a path in front of us,” “And go where?” “The mall doubles as an emergency shelter, and if it's empty, we'll try the police station,” “And what if they're gone too?” “Then we keep driving till we see lights or people, plowed road, somewhere safe for the kids,” “And then we bring help back here,” - “I think it's panicking, trying to get outside,” “Well, we boarded everything up,” - “What are you doing? We've got four other kids here to protect,” - “It's not what you do, it's what you believe, and what you've given up," - “I think all this might be my fault,” - “What are we gonna do now?” “We keep the fire hot,” - “Oh, hey, there you are! Hey, kiddo. we thought the sugarplum fairies may have gotten you,” - “Everybody, hold on to each other,” - “Be good,” - “Wow, what's this all about?” “It's nothing just… merry Christmas,” “Merry Christmas to you too, baby,”

[blackwinter555]

Women saints that I love

1)Saint Cecilia from Rome

Saint Cecilia is the patron saint of great musicians, poets and hymns. She is one of the most revered early Roman martyrs and one of the seven women commemorated in the Canon of the Mass.

Saint Cecilia lived in the 3rd century A.D. in the Roman Empire. She was born to a noble family in Rome. Despite taking a personal vow of chastity, her parents married her off to a young pagan nobleman named Valerian, who fell in love with her. In response to this marriage, she wore sackcloth and underwent fasting. She also invoked the saints and angels and asked them to guard her purity.

On her wedding night, she told Valerian that she had an angel watching over her and that if he didn't let her maintain her vow, bad things would happen.

This must have at least intrigued Valerian because he said he would believe her only if he could see the angel. Cecilia told him that he would only be able to see the angel if he himself was baptized first.

Valerian followed her instructions, was baptized by Pope Urban I (the great converter). When Valerian returned to his bride, “He found Cecilia in her little room lost in prayer, and next to her the angel of the Lord was standing. When Valerian saw the angel, he was seized with great terror.” The angel crowned her with a chaplet of roses of lilies. The white symbolized chastity and the red love, although it also portends her martyrdom. There really exists today a St. Celia rose that is white with a blush of red. It’s considered one of the finer English roses.

Valerian then converted his brother,Tibertius, and they began to give proper burials to the saints who were persecuted and killed by the prefect of their city, Turcius Almachius.

Valerian and Tibertius were eventually arrested for their subversive activities and brought before Turcius Almachius. He ordered them to make a sacrifice to the pagan gods but they refused and for this they were executed.

In the meantime St Cecilia preached about the good news and was able to convert over 400 people.

Almachius, the ruler of the time,then decides to kill Cecilia but, fearing the repercussions of a public execution given the popularity of the young Christian, after submitting her to summary judgment, orders that she return to her home to be locked in the steam room (which was to be brought to very high temperature), thus staging a death by asphyxiation.

First, she was arrested and condemned to be suffocated in the baths. She was shut inside the bathhouse for one night and even when the fires were stoked, she was alive when her persecutors opened the doors.  After one day and one night, the guards find Cecilia miraculously alive, wrapped in a celestial dew. Almachius then ordered her decapitation, but despite the three violent blows to the neck, the executioner could not sever Cecilia’s head.  Cecilia died after three days of agony, during which she gave all her belongings to the poor, her home to the Church - and, no longer able to speak - continues to profess her faith in the Triune God, by using her fingers: raising the thumb, forefinger, and middle finger of her right hand (to indicate three Divine Persons) and the index of her left hand (to indicate the one Divine Nature). 

Saint Cecilia is honored as the patron saint of music and she is a symbol of the central role of music in liturgy. It is said that she heard heavenly music when she was married. Because of her ties to music, she is often depicted in art, statues and religious items with a harp, organ or other musical instruments. 

2) Saint Dymphna of Ireland

St. Dymphna, a beautiful, young Irish princess from the 7th century, is most commonly known as the patron saint of those with nervous and emotional disorders, incest victims, those who have lost their parents,those suffering from emotional, nervous, or mental illness, rape and sexual abuse victims and runaways. 

St. Dymphna was born in the 7th century to a pagan king, Damon, and his Christian wife. It is said that St. Dymphna’s mother was very beautiful, and when she died at a young age, Damon was inconsolable. The king’s court tried to come up with a solution that would help him to deal with his grief and be happy again. They suggested he remarry, and he decided this was a great idea – but only if the woman was as beautiful as his first wife had been. Damon and his court searched far and wide for a woman whose beauty would equal that of St. Dymphna’s mother; however, they were unable to find anyone.

The king’s inability to find a new wife weighed heavily on his mind. The more he searched and came up empty the worse his grief became. Consequently, his mental health began to suffer, and he started entertaining the possibility of marrying his daughter, St. Dymphna, the only woman whose beauty was comparable to her mother’s. St. Dymphna, then about age 15, refused her father’s advances. She had made a vow of virginity, pledging herself wholly to God, at age 14. She told her father she could not agree to his desire to marry her. When he became enraged at her rejection, St. Dymphna fled with her spiritual director, Fr. Gerebernus, to Belgium, where they thought they would be safe from the king’s violent anger.

St. Dymphna’s father was furious that his daughter had fled from him. Since St. Dymphna had not told anyone where she was going to, the king sent his court out to search for her. Her location was discovered when the king’s men came across an innkeeper who recognized the coins that they paid with as coins he had recently received as payment. At this time in history, foreign currency was not widely recognized, since long-distance travel was difficult and costly (which meant many people were unable to travel very far). Since the innkeeper remembered the coins of Damon’s kingdom, the king’s men knew St. Dymphna must be close. They sent word to the king that his daughter had been found.

Damon joined his men in the town of Gheel, Belgium, where St. Dymphna had been found. He tried to persuade St. Dymphna to join him as his wife, but again, she refused. The king ordered that his men kill Fr. Gerebernus and St. Dymphna as punishment for disobeying him. The men beheaded Fr. Gerebernus, but were unable to harm the princess. The king was overcome with fury, took his sword, and beheaded his own daughter.

The residents of the town of Gheel buried Fr. Gerebernus and St. Dymphna in a cave. They had grown to love St. Dymphna as a good and holy young woman who had taken care of the poor and sick while living in Gheel. Years later, the townspeople decided to give St. Dymphna and Fr. Gerebernus a more proper burial location. When they uncovered the cave where they had been buried, it was discovered that two stone sarcophagi now enclosed their bodies. One of these was marked with a red tile labeled “Dymphna.” In 1349, a church was built in honor of St. Dymphna in Gheel. Those who visited the church (which was at the site of her martyrdom), reported many miraculous healings, particularly of those afflicted with epilepsy and mental illness. When this church burned in the late 15th century, a new church was built in her honor. Dedicated in 1532, the Church of St. Dymphna has been a popular site of pilgrimage for those suffering from mental, nervous, or emotional illness for hundreds of years. Her feast day is celebrated on May 15.

[softersinned-arc]

@balldwin said: [ HAIR ]: sender slowly reaches out to catch a loose strand of the receiver’s hair and tuck it gently and securely back behind their ear, letting their touch linger afterwards.

He can feel her eyes on him in the dark.

He always seems aware of her in a way that would, from someone else, make her feel surveilled; from him, it simply suggests that he is merely degrees away from omniscience. A more impressionable mind might have made him a new god, but Astoria is, at the moment, taking too much vicious pleasure in the promise of her damnation to cede control of her soul to anyone else.

Something about him suggests that he may take it all the same. She is not so unhappy with the thought as she would have imagined she would be.

Tonight he stands in the gardens below where she sits and he tips his head back as his guest leaves, eyes finding hers through the black of night. For several long moments they are silent and still, and then in the space of one breath to another he's gone, and she can hear the door close from three floors away. It is out of courtesy for her that Baldwin walks slowly and allows himself to be heard—it gives her time, should she wish it, to cover herself more, or prepare for another person's arrival. Were she still a warmblood she would be cold, perhaps even modest, but he has seen her half-mad and hunched over her prey, dripping blood and gore, and she has little enough shame where he is concerned. Her bare feet press firmly against the railing beneath her, and the night's steady breeze lifts the hem of her nightgown a fraction of an inch before letting it settle against her calves again.

"So," he says by way of greeting, and he walks through the room to the balcony where she sits, "you have recovered from—earlier?"

His delicacy, though unnecessary, is appreciated all the same. Astoria waits until he is standing beside her at the railing, his hands set against the stone several inches from where she's laid her feet, before she looks at him. She leans forward, winds her arms around her legs, tightens her hand around the handkerchief she's holding.

To call it a surprise would have been an understatement. She would have imagined he was dead by now—she saw him last fifty years before, and he was only a year or two younger than her, and human. And he had never had enough sense to hold his tongue when he should have, nor enough cowardice to shy away from the urge towards self-sacrifice in the name of patriotism or, worse still, the right thing. And he had seen her, called out her name in disbelief, crossed the wide street to reach her and take her arm with surprising strength for a man of his age.

It was funny, in its own way: once, she had imagined they would spend their lives together, and today, she had spent years without thinking of him once. Far enough from her that she hadn't realized he was still there, Baldwin had paused in surprise at the intrusion, and when Iain Blackwood's wizened hand gripped her arm, his nostrils had flared with a sudden anger. "Astoria," Iain repeated, and when she looked at him she wore a pleasant but confused expression, and she gently detached his hand from her arm.

If she looked closely she could see it then, that beneath the years and the laughter lines, he was the same man who had once told her that, if they simply waited long enough, he could divorce his wife and take her instead—one of the few advantages of Henry's bouts of evangelism, he'd insisted, and fuck the Pope and God Himself, too, but he would have her for his wife. Astoria had laughed at that and told him not to speak nonsense, and that week, Celia told him she was carrying his child, and there was no more talk of marriage. Now, he stared at her in wonder, disbelief, while Astoria patted his hand warmly.

"I'm terribly sorry." She spoke with a perfect English accent, indistinguishable from the native Londoners she had met while she and Baldwin were in the city. "But I think you have mistaken me for someone else."

He shook his head. "Astoria Grim," he insisted adamantly. "I know you."

To deny any connection would have made him doubt her further. She shook her head and squeezed his hand. "My great-aunt died when my father was a boy. He always said I looked like her." And she laughed sympathetically, though her stomach was churning, and she felt rather as though she might be sick, as the son that Iain had crept away from rushed to catch up to them. "Did you know her?"

It felt wrong, to lie to him, but it seemed to work. Iain took a step back, looking dazed, as his son caught his arm again. The Astoria that he remembered would have been his age. She would have spoken with the melodic lilt of her Swedish grandfather's influence. She would never have turned him away. "I did," he answered, and he offered a vague apology before he covered his son's hand with his own and turned away from them.

She waited until they were out of sight to let herself feel it. Now, there is nothing to feel, though she runs her thumb over the fabric of the handkerchief, folded over her index finger, and she looks up at Baldwin and lets the corner of her mouth quirk upward into a crooked smile. "I have," she confirms, and Baldwin looks pointedly at the handkerchief she's holding.

"What is that?" he asks, though he already knows, and Astoria turns her hand and opens it obediently, holding the cloth in her palm. Quietly, she lets out an embarrassed little laugh, and she stretches his hand out for him to reach. When he plucks the handkerchief from her grasp, she clears her throat, eyes flickering away from him.

"I'm sorry. I should have asked."

Once they were gone, she had closed her eyes, taken in several deep breaths, but the sheer number of people in the crowded street did nothing to soothe her frayed nerves. From where he stood Baldwin could, no doubt, have seen just how she was beginning to lose control, and it doesn't surprise her that he saw what followed: that she had pulled the handkerchief from where she kept it tucked inside her sleeve and lifted it to her nose, and she breathed in the scent there instead, faint though it was.

"Did it help?" Baldwin asks in the present, and Astoria clears her throat again, cheeks coloring a gentle pink. From what she's seen, it's rare for a wearh to blush, but she always seems to manage it when his eyes are on her.

"It did." She speaks quietly, but she speaks the truth: the moment she'd breathed in his scent of woodfire and leather she had felt safe again, and steady on her own feet. The fear was gone, and when she opened her eyes they were no longer swimming—and she felt, as she so often did at his side, like herself again. She looks at her knees, afraid that if she meets his searching gaze he'll be able to uncover the secrets she has yet to even tell herself.

She knows what this is, or she knows enough: five years with him and they are rarely apart. He has been an excellent teacher and guide, and more patient with her than she would ever have imagined he could be. He does not seem to resent her presence, or that she still cannot hunt entirely on her own, and certainly not without supervision if she does not mean to kill. On the rare occasions that she sleeps, she dreams of him. His scent is her anchor to the world, and her heart, damaged and cold as it is, seems to be utterly, entirely his. How inconvenient, and, at once, how wonderful, to know that her ability to fall so absurdly in love had not died with the rest of her. That to be away from him makes her feel as though there is a knife slipped between her ribs is no doubt the result of being caged so long; who could expect her to come out of it sane? But at its core, she knows what it is, just as she knows that whatever she felt decades ago for the man she saw today, it has not prepared her for this.

Inconvenient, to say the least; she cannot talk herself out of it and so she simply ignores it as often as she can, though in moments like these she wonders if he can smell it on her. Baldwin only watches her, silent in a way that she's learned by now means he wants her to continue without having to be asked, and Astoria lets out a petulant little sigh, though she's smiling (albeit guiltily) when she looks at him again. "Had you been looking for that?" she asks, though she knows that's not the information he's waiting to hear.

"Yes. I had expected an error by our staff, though perhaps I should have anticipated a bit of theft."

"That does seem like an oversight on your part," she says, quite sincerely, though she laughs a moment later and shakes her head. "It's the only one I've taken. I doubted you'd miss it. It helps keep me—" Her voice trails off for a moment, and she reaches back for something to do with her hands. Impatiently, she gathers her braided hair and begins combing it out, fingers working through the tangles there.

Even in the dark she sees Baldwin's gaze shift, settling for a moment on a particular red curl hanging from her finger. It is perhaps the second or third time he's seen her hair loose, and he seems to understand the gravity of such a vulnerability with him—but she has no use for modesty or shame with him, and with his attention diverted she pushes forward. "It keeps me from getting overwhelmed. Usually, you're there, and that helps, but when you're not—it's a poor substitute but it's useful all the same. One scent I know well keeps me from going mad when presented with a thousand."

"I see." He drags his gaze from her hair back to her face, and she feels suddenly and terribly (wonderfully) exposed.

"It reminds me that I am not where I have been. And that as long as I'm with you, I am safe." That seems to surprise him, though she can't be sure, as she looks at his hands after only a moment of meeting his eyes. "Even after years, I'm not quite used to it. I trust you—" And here she laughs again and looks back at him. "—God help me, I trust you with my life and my freedom alike. The reminder that it's you looking after me is a welcome one."

Baldwin grins, suddenly, and she feels all the air being knocked out of her lungs at the sight of it. "Quite a change from the certainty I'd let Father Hubbard drink from you," he points out after a moment, and it prompts yet another laugh. Quickly, so quickly she thinks she imagined it, she could swear she sees him close his eyes as if to savor the sound of her laugh.

"Well, you see, I've learned the truth about you."

"Have you, now?"

"Mm." She leans forward as much as she can without losing her balance on the railing. "You like me."

He chuckles, and the rich rumble of his voice is a song. "Maybe, for the moment, you're of more use to me alive." But he's still grinning, and she can recognize his tone as—teasing. How magnificent, that he'll tease her like that, that he knows her well enough to be certain she'll take it as it's meant. How beautiful, that he seems to enjoy making her laugh.

"Oh, I certainly am, but it's still true. You like me. And you won't let anyone harm me, even myself. It's alright," she adds, and she settles back against the wall with a smug little smile. "I like you, too."

"Do you, now?"

"Very much. There is not another soul in this world who's taken care of me like you have."

The confession is unexpected. Baldwin's expression seems to soften, though perhaps it's the low light.

"When I need to remember that I am alive, and still myself, I think of you." She looks out over the gardens again, but she's drawn back to him, the beautiful line of his jaw in the dark. "Cuore mio. You are my sanity and my safety." His eyebrows raise at the Italian, and she laughs low in her throat. "That's what you are, isn't it? If you had turned us away that day, I would be dead, or mad. That I am still myself, that I still exist at all, is because of you." And if I were to be separated from you now, I'm not certain I would know how to remain myself. She swings her legs around and shifts so that her feet are on the stone floor of the balcony, and she looks up at Baldwin and smiles. "Will you take me out? I'd like to hunt."

For a long, long moment, he is silent, watching her. Slowly, as though he was reaching out to soothe a frightened animal, he reaches for her, and he tips her chin up, brushes that same errant curl he'd been watching before behind her ear, as if to grant himself an unimpeded view of her face. His fingers brush against her cheek, and his expression seems almost tender, but he says nothing. After a beat, he drags his finger along her jaw before he lowers his hand.

"Do you want to dress, first?" he asks, and she stands, shaking her head.

"If anyone sees me, they'll assume I'm some restless spirit," she says with a little laugh, and she tries not to think about how gentle his touch was against her skin, or how badly she wanted to lean into it, or that she feels oddly, impossibly cold now that he's released her. (She glides across the floor quickly enough that she has to wait for him at the door. She does not see him lift the handkerchief, still in his hand, to his nose and breathe her in.)

She wakes the next morning after an hour or two of sound sleep, soothed by having drunk her fill mere hours before. When she opens her eyes the first thing she sees is an unfamiliar scrap of fabric on the bed beside her—and when she breathes in his scent on the cloth it is almost as if he is there with her.

[goalhofer]

Famous 1897 births:

Marion Davies Brown (American actress & producer)

Pola Negri (Polish-American actress & singer)

Sir Charles Kingsford-Smith (Australian aviator)

Frances Anderson (British-American actress)

Elizabeth Walker (American daughter of Benjamin Harrison)

Celia Lovsky (Austrian-American actress)

Mikhail Krichevsky (Ukrainian supercentenarian & soldier)

Francis O’Doul (American baseball player & manager)

Betty Compson (American actress & producer)

Frank Hawks (American flying ace & aviator)

Walter Winchell (American journalist & commentator)

Kimura Jirōemon (Japanese supercentenarian & oldest man ever)

Vivienne Segal (American actress & singer)

Charles Seel (American actor)

J. Fred Coots (American songwriter)

Frank Luke; Jr. (American flying ace)

Paavo Nurmi (Finnish runner)(pictured)

Moses Horwitz aka Moe Howard (American actor)

Robert Blucke (British flying ace)

Viola Dana (American actress)

Amelia Earhart (American aviator)(pictured)

John W. Galbreath (American businessman)

Jack Haley; Jr. (American actor)

Ludovic Arrachart (French aviator)

Fredric March (American actor)

Jimmie Rodgers (American singer & guitarist)

William Webb (American baseball player)

Pope St. Paul VI (262nd Catholic pope)(pictured)

Arthur Rhys-Davids (British flying ace)

Harvey Hendrick (American baseball player)

Quentin Roosevelt (American flying ace & son of Theodore Roosevelt)

Okubo Koto (Japanese supercentenarian)

Lazare Ponticelli (Italian-French supercentenarian & soldier)

Rhys Williams (British-American actor)

[grandhotelabyss]

Thoughts on the post-Shakespeare, pre-romantic poets?

My extensive thoughts on Milton can be found here. In the earlier 17th century, I like the Metaphysicals, especially Donne's Holy Sonnets: "At the round earth's imagin'd corners, blow / Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise..." But, contra Eliot, I find that their intellectualism, the word-problem quality of the conceits, sometimes interferes with the quality of feeling. In the Restoration, I am weak on Dryden—he fell between the gaps of my English-major survey courses!—and I never quite investigated beyond a cursory inspection. Rochester is impressive smut: "Her hand, her foot, her very look's a cunt." In the 18th century, Pope is a verbal genius, a master of meter and rhyme, immortalizing his age's thought in the structure of his art in a rationalist epic like the Essay on Man. Swift in "The Lady's Dressing Room" makes a moral point out of filth ("Oh! Celia, Celia, Celia shits!"), while his self-elegy is surprisingly moving: "Yet malice never was his aim; / He lash'd the vice, but spar'd the name." On this side of the Atlantic, Anne Bradstreet makes the Puritan plain-style sing with tenderness and energy, while Phillis Wheatley, in the teeth of a world that would have silenced her, expands Augustan verse into a premonition of Romanticism: "A new creation rushing on my sight..."

[thebridgehqs]

Anonymous asked: Current member Mw please?

long list coming at you anon, straight from the discord!

alyssa greene from the prom, anybody from the owl house, julieta, félix, camilo, agustín from encanto, ginny, zion, joe, marcus, abby, ellen from ginny & georgia, santana, brittany, finn, sam, mike, tina, artie, mercedes from glee, silvermist, fawn, iridessa, vidia from the tinkerbell movies, amethyst, peridot, lapis, rose quartz from steven universe, emily from until dawn, ej, big red, ashlyn, kourtney from hsmtmts, schmidt, winston, ally from new girl, huey, scrooge, donald, lena, launchpad, fenton, gyro, penumbra from ducktales, obi, julien, monet, aki, zoya from gossip girl reboot, dwight, angela, andy, ryan, kelly from the office, peter pan, michael, john from peter pan, nick goode, sheila, kurt, alice from fear street part 2.  béatrice de rune, sophia (a plague tale) kratos, laufey, freyr (god of war) elfo, luci (disenchantment) pavetta, cahir, vesemir, eskel, coën, avallac'h, lara dorren, triss merigold (the witcher) sarah whitaker, boozer, rikki patil (days gone) celia st. james, harry cameron, connor cameron, robert jamison (the seven husbands of evelyn hugo) agatha harkness, lilith, nico minoru (midnight suns/marvel) yuna, ryuzo, taka, tomoe, kenji (ghost of tsushima) pope heyward, cleo (outer banks) liara t'soni, wrex, kaidan alenko, jack, garrus vakarian, grunt (mass effect) hannah & beth washington, chris hartley (until dawn) sherry birkin, ada wong, ashley graham, rosemary winters, jack krauser, luis serra, ingrid hunnigan, chris redfield (resident evil) angeal hewley, aerith gainsborough, cissnei, yuffie kisaragi, tifa lockhart, tseng (final fantasy vii) mikey north, rachel amber, alex chen, gabe chen, ryan lucan (life is strange) judy alvarez, jackie welles, evelyn parker, viktor vektor, goro takemura (cyberpunk 2077) kaniehtí:io, desmond miles, rebecca crane, shaun hastings (assassin’s creed) john watson, irene adler, katelyn holmes (sherlock holmes game series/rdj films) nikki gold, ko-rel, dazzler, richard rider, meredith quill, groot, rocket, drax (marvel/marvel’s gotg game) bastila shan, darth malak, meetra surik (star wars/kotor).  Fives, Echo, Hunter, Omega, Crosshair, Wrecker, Tech, any of the Star Wars Rebels (Star Wars) River Song, 11th Doctor (Doctor Who) Adéwalé, Ezio (Assassins Creed) Mipha, Urbosa, Daruk, Teba, Sidon, Riju, Impa, Pura, Kass (Zelda) Will, Cornelia, Taranee, Caleb, Phoboes, Cedric, Miranda (W.I.T.C.H)

[storiesbyjes2g]

Devonte invited me to his house! I was super excited about being with him again, assuming he was off from work and wanted a Love Day encore. I was positive it would be better this time since we got our nerves out of the way. My excitement vanished, however, when his mom answered the door. It turned out the entire family was home. Every single one of them. Didn’t they have jobs? I stretched my brain, trying to figure out why he’d invite me. Surely he didn’t expect I’d be down with woohooing in a house full of sims. Maybe our Love Day meant a lot to him and he wanted me to spend time with his family. I hadn’t been over there since I was a kid. Ooh! Maybe he wanted to talk about being official! That had to be it. 

Miss Celia answered the door and assumed I was there to see Diamond. When I told her I was visiting Devonte, her face fell, and she said, “Oh... You’re a nice girl. You can do so much better.” What a thing to say about her own son! To make things worse, he came downstairs and said, “You know I don’t like you talking to my guests.”

Who talks to their mom that way?? What’s wrong with this family?

Diamond ran downstairs and said she needed to speak with me immediately. She and Devonte had a little tiff, and I felt weird about them fighting over me. To appease them both, I told him I would talk to her and find him after. No biggie.

Whatever she wanted to say must have been serious because she didn’t take me to her room. We walked five blocks down the street to this nice, park-like area. That part of Evergreen Harbor was so beautiful. I wouldn’t mind living there if the rest of the city got cleaned up.

She told me she thought she was pregnant. I didn’t believe her at first, but why would she joke about that? My first question was going to be about the father, but I knew who it was. My stomach plunged, and I thought I might get sick. It shouldn’t matter to me if Diamond and Laurant are having a baby. That’s their business. If that’s true, why do I feel so sad?

[fancyschmancyopinions]

KERRY WASHINGTON at the 28th Annual SAG Awards in Santa Monica on February 27th 2022 wearing CELIA KRITHARIOTI dress, MESSIKA jewelry, TYLER ELLIS bag, and STUART WEITZMAN shoes

Kerry Washington wore back-to-back great looks at the NAACP Image Awards and the SAG Awards. This show stopping gown looked absolutely amazing.

I love this color or Kerry. The bright yellow is a perfect hue, a perfect canary yellow. I love the big skirt. It’s so over the top and Kerry really sells the outfit. I do wish the shirt was a little less wrinkled.

[mxlti-fand0m-imaginess]

How To Request!

all requests are currently: open!

include the characters full name and the fandom in the request so i know which character you are requesting for

don’t request for characters that i don’t write for

i am on hiatus for any crossed out characters!

send an idea or prompts with the request

just requesting a character can make it harder for me to write, and i will prioritize requests that are more specific

not all requests will be accepted, and some might take longer than others to be written

check out my requesting rules before submitting a request!

Characters That I Write For!

*= platonic only!

American Horror Story

Tate Langdon

Violet Harmon

Billie Dean Howard

Kit Walker

Lana Winters

Mary Eunice

Kyle Spencer

Zoe Benson

Madison Montgomery

Cordelia Goode

Misty Day

Jimmy Darling

Maggie Esmerelda

Dandy Mott

James March

The Countess

Sally McKenna

Tristan Duffy

Rory Monohan

Kai Anderson

Winter Anderson

Michael Langdon

Mallory

Brooke Thompson

Montana Duke

Xavier Plympton

Bottoms

Hazel Callahan

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid

Derek Morgan

Aaron Hotchner

Emily Prentiss

Penelope Garcia

Jennifer Jareau

Elle Greenaway

Deadpool

Negasonic Teenage Warhead

Yukio

Domino

Disney

Hiro Hamada*

GoGo Tomago

Honey Lemon

Wasabi

Fred

Tadashi Hamada

Paige Olvera*

Frankie Wong*

Amelia Duckworth*

Mal

Evie

Jay

Carlos

Jane

Audrey

Uma

Ben

Lonnie

Dizzy Tremaine*

Celia Facilier*

Harry Hook

Riley Matthews*

Maya Hart*

Lucas Friar *

Farkle Minkus*

Zay Babineaux*

Mabel Pines*

Dipper Pines*

Wendy Corduroy

Nini Salazar-Roberts

Ricky Bowen

E.J. Caswell

Ashlyn Caswell

Gina Porter

Kourtney

Olivia White

Wen Gifford

Mo Banjaree

Stella Yamada

Charlie Delgado

Scott Pickett

Liv Rooney

Maddie Rooney

Diggie Smalls

Lewis Robinson*

Wilbur Robinson*

Franny Robinson

Billie Robinson

Stargirl Caraway

Leo Borlock

Brady

Mack

Tanner

Lela

Zed Necrodopolis

Addison Wells

Eliza Zambi

Willa Lykensen

Wyatt Lykensen

Wynter Barkowitz

Every Witch Way

Emma Alonso

Andi Cruz

Maddie Van Pelt

Daniel Miller

Jax Novoa

Diego Rueda

Gigi Rueda

Mia Black

Harry Potter

Harry Potter

Hermione Granger

Ron Weasley

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Ginny Weasley

Luna Lovegood

Neville Longbottom

James Potter

Sirius Black

Remus Lupin

Poly!Marauders

Wolfstar

Lily Evans

Heathers

JD

Veronica Sawyer

Heather Chandler

Heather McNamara

Heather Duke

I Am Not Okay With This

Sydney Novak

Dina

Stanley Barber

Bradley Lewis

It

Bill Denbrough*

Beverly Marsh*

Ben Hanscom*

Mike Hanlon*

Richie Tozier*

Eddie Kaspbrak*

Stanley Uris*

Henry Bowers

Patrick Hockstetter

Victor Criss

Belch Huggins

Julie And The Phantoms

Julie Molina

Luke Patterson

Alex Mercer

Reggie Peters

Carrie Wilson

Nick

Flynn Taylor

Willie Ortega

Marvel

Peter Parker

MJ

Wanda Maximoff

Pietro Maximoff

Druig

Makkari

Steve Rogers

Bucky Barnes

Stucky

Loki Laufeyson

Natasha Romanoff

Miss Peregrine’s Home For Peculiar Children

Enoch O’Conner

Jacob Portman

Emma Bloom

Olive Abroholos Elephanta

Outer Banks

JJ Maybank

John B. Routledge

Pope Heyward

Kiara Carrera

Sarah Cameron

Rafe Cameron

Scream (Movies)

Billy Loomis

Stu Macher

Poly Ghostface

Sidney Prescott

Tatum Riley

Randy Meeks

Jill Roberts

Charlie Walker

Tara Carpenter

Sam Carpenter

Amber Freeman

Kirby Reed

Ethan Landry

Quinn Bailey

Chad Meeks-Martin

Mindy Meeks-Martin

Scream (Series)

Audrey Jensen

Emma Duval

Brooke Maddox

Zoe Vaughn

Riley Marra

Noah Foster

Kieran Wilcox

Stavo Acosta

Jake Fitzgerald

Stranger Things

Max Mayfield

Eleven

Mike Wheeler

Lucas Sinclair

Dustin Henderson

Nancy Wheeler

Robin Buckley

Eddie Munson

Steve Harrington

Chrissy Cunningham

The Darkest Minds

Ruby Daly

Liam Stewart

Chubs Meriwether

Zu Kimura*

Clancy Gray

The Last Of Us

Joel Miller

Ellie Williams

Tess Servopolous

Abby Anderson

The Outsiders

Ponyboy Curtis

Johnny Cade

Dallas Winston

The 100

Clarke Griffin

Lexa Kom Trikru

Octavia Blake

Raven Reyes

Jasper Jordan

John Murphy

Madi Griffin*

Monty Green

Echo Kom Azgeda

Gaia Kom Trikru

Hope Diyoza

Timeless

Lucy Preston

Wyatt Logan

Rufus Carlin

Garcia Flynn

Emma Whitmore

Jiya Marri

Victorious

Tori Vega

Jade West

Cat Valentine

Andre Harris

Beck Oliver

Robbie Shapiro

Voyagers

Christopher

Sela

Zac

Willow

Kit Tanthalos

Jade Claymore

Elora Danan

X-Men

Peter Maximoff

Kurt Wagner

Hank McCoy

Jean Grey

Scott Summers

Alex Summers

Yellowjackets

Shauna Shipman

Jackie Taylor

Natalie Scatorccio

Misty Quigley

Taissa Turner

Van Palmer

Travis Martinez

Lottie Matthews

Callie Sadecki

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH61

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 61: Purgatory Reunion (XIII)

It was dawn.

There was no sun in the Underground Ant City, but Qi Leren still knew by intuition that it was dawn.

Looking at the time again, it was 7:20 in the morning. If he was training with Chen Baiqi, it would be too late. If he left for her place at this time, he would definitely receive the "loving care" of the three-headed hellhound. But for a person who was on a rare vacation, this hour was still too early.

Actually, he could sleep for a while, but... Qi Leren sat up from the bed. Now that he was awake, it was better to make some breakfast for Ning Zhou. The living room here was connected to the kitchen.

Thinking this, Qi Leren jumped out of bed, put on clothes in a hurry, and came to the bedroom door. After a pause, he rubbed his hands and gently turned the door handle, ready to tiptoe out.

As soon as the door opened, the smell of fried eggs filled Qi Leren's nose. He paused and looked straight into the kitchen.

Freshly brewed hot coffee sat on the table, as well as hot sausages and slices of bread. When Ning Zhou heard the sound of the door opening from where he was frying eggs, he looked back at him, smiled, and said, "Good morning."

"Morning." Qi Leren felt that he was still dreaming.

Dreaming... Speaking of which, he seemed to have had a dream last night, but when he thought about it now, he can't remember anything, except that it was a beautiful dream.

Ning Zhou skillfully put the fried eggs on the plate with a spatula, and Qi Leren quickly walked past and picked up the plate to give him a hand.

It wasn’t the first time that Qi Leren saw Ning Zhou cooking. Before the end of the undercover mission with the Slaughter Secret Society and the start of the Holy Nun’s task, he and Ning Zhou had briefly lived together for a while, as it was for the convenience of Ning Zhou training him. At that time, the two people who had had a crush on each other but sought only to endure it tacitly avoided many topics, and even deliberately avoided each other in many cases. The scene of eating together in silence at dusk was still filled with a different kind of warmth.

Restraint ran through this relationship. Even if they had confessed their feelings, they were still restrained.

When you like someone, you can be presumptuous, because the impulse comes so warmly that people get carried away and act rashly. You may even forget to think, and let your instincts dominate you to express your feelings freely, but you don't think whether it will hurt the person you like. Because at that time, you just want it.

However, when you fall in love with someone and want to spend your whole life with him, you lose your courage, become timid, and be swayed by considerations of gain and loss. You start to restrain yourself, learn to pull out the spikes one by one, express your love gently, and don't use the excuse of "love" to hurt your loved one. Because at this time, you want forever.

"I'll brush my teeth first!" Qi Leren put the plate on the table and rushed into the bathroom. He spent one third of the usual time brushing his teeth and didn't wash his face, because he didn't want Ning Zhou to wait too long, but he carefully observed himself in the mirror and combed his messy hair with a wet comb.

After several tens of seconds, Qi Leren sat upright at the dining table with a knife and a fork in hand, and ate breakfast happily.

Qi Leren was not used to this kind of western breakfast. When he was young, his mother often went out to film, and his father threw him a few dollars irresponsibly to buy breakfast for himself. He usually bought youtiao when he was sent away. When his mother was at home, his father would use 18 kinds of cooking skills, from Cantonese-style refreshments to northern noodles, never making the same thing in the same month. The only thing he never made was Western-style breakfast. Qi Leren, who depend on their mother to eat and drink, had no opinion on breakfast at all, and had been used to this for more than 20 years.

The western-style breakfast was a bit too greasy for him, which made his stomach accustomed to youtiao uncomfortable. However, this was made by Ning Zhou, and Qi Leren not only ate it all, but also praised it with a smile. Because of his outstanding acting skills, Ning Zhou didn't see that he was reluctant.

Looking at Ning Zhou's happy appearance, Qi Leren felt willing to act all his life.

After breakfast, they went to the Trial’s Ant City headquarters, which was disguised as a small auction house, where people were busy and didn’t pay much attention to others. Celia, the contact person in charge of the whole branch’s affairs, had stayed up all night. The smell of black coffee was all over the office. She added sugar to it and smiled bitterly: "I sent someone to interrogate Kathleen overnight. I dug up a lot of news."

"What news?" Qi Leren’s spirits rose as soon as he heard it, and he took Ning Zhou and sat down.

"After Kathleen escaped from the Village of Dusk, considering her demon identity, she chose the Underground Ant City where humans and demons live together as her foothold. As luck would have it, an old lover from her early years happened to run an industry for Witches of Greed in the Underground Ant City, so she settled down there. After the Illusionist disappeared, we investigated his whereabouts. He had been to this casino before going to the Dragon Ant Queen’s royal palace. A gambler saw him and was very impressed with him. Later, our informant reported this matter and went to the gambler to verify it, and then disappeared in the underground casino. Kathleen admitted that the informant was in her hands. After torturing the informant who was looking for the Illusionist, she put the underground casino on watch, and then met you while you were investigating while in disguise."

"So, there’s still no news on the Illusionist?" Qi Leren frowned.

"Yes, we still don't know why he went to that underground casino." Celia was also very troubled. "But it’s certain that he eventually disappeared in the Queen Dragon Ant’s palace."

"Last time, you said that entering the palace required the Prophet's decree?" Qi Leren asked.

Celia nodded. "I also wrote about you in the second request, and I will have an answer next week. Until then... I don't have the power to make such a big decision."

Although Celia was in charge of all the Village of Dusk’s affairs in the Underground Ant City, after all, she only acted on the orders of the Prophet. When it came to the Dragon Ant Queen, who was also a field-level master, she had no right to make decisions.

Qi Leren didn't know about the delicate relationship between field-level masters. He didn't even know how many field-level masters there were in the whole Nightmare World—he vaguely remembered that had Su He mentioned it in those days, but now he wouldn't even believe even Su He’s punctuation marks.

"The Dragon Ant Queen, what news is there?" Ning Zhou suddenly asked.

Celia hesitated and shook her head gently. "There is no news... I'm afraid this is the best news. She’s now in the stage of rebirth, and after this... "

It meant that the queen who had dominated the Underground Ant City for more than 20 years would die and give her authority to the new queen.

What kind of attitude would the new queen hold towards humans and demons? Was it closer to the side of humans or demons? Would she expand the Underground Ant City’s sphere of influence, or would she pay more attention to stability and peace in her own field? Which Devil King would she follow? All these were related to the existence of the Underground Ant City in the next ten or twenty years, and people living here were greatly concerned about this problem.

Among the successive Dragon Ant Queens, a few were friendly to human beings. During those times, human beings gained a high status, but most of the time, the Dragon Ant Queens were not friendly to human beings—she would tolerate human beings living in her sphere of influence, but that's all.

"What method is the Dragon Ant Queen’s field passed down through? Is there any idea?" Qi Leren asked curiously. He had learned some things from the intelligence materials, but the method of inheritance was a complete secret.

Celia shook her head. "Most fields decline with the death of their owners, and they will die out in a few decades. There’s a special inheritance method in the Holy See, where the Pope’s field has been perfectly passed down through the ages."

Was the Pope's field Neverland? Qi Leren secretly took a look at Ning Zhou and was caught red-handed.

"The method of condensation is different," Ning Zhou said.

Qi Leren seemed to understand. He knew that Ning Zhou once condensed more than a half-field with the Holy See’s method, but the half-field had been very fragile, and it was broken before it condensed into a field. But now...

He should have condensed the field again, as evidenced by what had happened in the underground casino yesterday.

He would look for an opportunity to talk about this problem in depth with Ning Zhou. He really cared too much about his own force. This evil force brewing destruction meant endless pain for him.

"Oh, as well, I’ve investigated the things that you asked me to, but there are some questions..." Celia took a sip of coffee and explained the matter.

Ashley, Mrs Kathleen's subordinate, had been missing for a month. She could still feel that her subordinate existed, but she couldn't feel where he was. A surprisingly evil force cut off her connection to him.

"She also said that she had once met someone who looked like Ashley. At that time, he was fighting fiercely with a man wielding a tangdao, but she couldn't see clearly because they were too far away. After they left, she took a look at the scene, and there were broken walls. Therefore, Kathleen thinks that she must have seen wrong. Although her subordinate is clever and considerate, his strength is average and it would be impossible for him to fight with such a powerful master," Celia said.

Qi Leren didn't quite agree: "Didn't she say that her subordinate was controlled by an evil force? Maybe it's something like a seed of slaughter?"

"This is also possible, but according to Kathleen's tone, the level of those two people was more than that of someone who’s been parasitized. Moreover, so many days have passed, and there probably aren’t many valuable clues left there, " said Celia.

"Is there anything we can do for you now?" Qi Leren asked.

"With the matters of the Illusionist, we can only wait for the Court’s reply. Other affairs are handled by special personnel. If you have time, you may wish to help us go to the place where Mrs. Kathleen mentioned that she thought she saw Ashley." Celia smiled and looked at them expectantly.

Qi Leren and Ning Zhou exchanged a look, silently reaching an agreement.

-----

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

[prayerforlove]

How to have petty beef: a five-step guide by 18th and 19th century figures

Somewhere along the way, British people got the reputation of being very polite. However true that may be, these 18th and 19th century feuds—real and fictional—certainly didn’t help establish it. If you’re looking at Kanye’s public meltdown and feeling uninspired about the current state of public feuds, cast your gaze back a century or two, and you’ll find some lessons that still apply to today. 18th and 19th century figures present, for your consideration: how to have petty beef. Featuring many Kanye cameos.

1. Make it public, and, by god, make it messy: Jonathon Swift and Lady Mary Wortley Montagu

It all started with a fateful poem: Jonathan Swift’s “The Lady’s Dressing Room.” Swift notoriously loved a good laugh (see: the world’s first pro-baby eating piece of work, A Modest Proposal), which led to his writing a  poem about a man who sneaks into a beautiful lady’s dressing room only to find that, under her powders and perfumes, she’s stinky and hairy. And then the shoe drops: “Oh! Celia, Celia, Celia shits!” (43-44). This did not sit well with Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. Luckily, she contacted Swift and they calmly aired their grievances in private—no, I’m kidding, she wrote a response poem called “The Reasons That Induced Dr. S. to Write a Poem Called ‘The Lady’s Dressing Room.’” Thus we arrive at Swift and Montagu’s lesson: make it public and make it messy. Montagu follows through on the former through the title of her poem (the name dropping is a nice touch), and the latter by asserting that the speaker in Swift’s poem is launching a smear campaign on the titular lady because of sexual frustration. If that’s messy, then the last line is chaos: “She answered short, "I'm glad you'll write./You'll furnish paper when I shite’” (23-24). And the whole world just got to sit back and watch.

2. Operate under the assumption that you’re correct about everything and everyone else is wrong: Alexander Pope and… well, a lot of people

Alexander Pope beefed indiscriminately. If you were an author in the 18th century, then there was a good chance you were going to appear in Pope’s Dunciad, a chronical of Pope’s least favorite writers and their faults. Eliza Haywood, touted as Mrs. Novel in her time, received this treatment (I invite you to recall one Kanye West interrupting one Taylor Swift at the VMAs). Pope draws from some innate authority that he assumes automatically earns him the moral high ground. Or, put simply, if you write a decisive enough poem, then you get to be right about things. Take Pope’s “Essay on Man,” where Pope regales the reader with the correct view of humanity. He knows, by the way, because he’s super tight with God: “Laugh where we must, be candid where we can;/ But vindicate the ways of God to man” (15-16). Other assertive statements throughout the poem provc that confidence is key—you can feud with anyone you want if you dibs the moral, intellectual, and literary high ground. And also let everyone else know they suck, since, after all, “Whatever is, is right” (290).

3. An alternate approach—try condescension under the guise of politeness: Mr. Bennet and Mr. Collins

Petty feuding went beyond the realm of reality into fiction with Mr. Bennet and Mr. Collins, characters in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. If you’re not 100 percent into the devastating public throwdown approach or the “God told me I’m right” approach, you can try beating around the bush a little. When tragedy befell the Bennet family, Mr. Collins took it upon himself to write a consolatory letter. The letter’s just a victory lap after Mr. Collins was rejected by Mr. Bennet’s daughter, but he can’t just come out and say that. So he takes the long way: “They agree with me in apprehending that this false step in one daughter will be injurious to the fortunes of all the others; for who, as Lady Catherine herself condescendingly says, will connect themselves with such a family?” (319). Even when the tragedy’s resolved, he claims he’s “truly rejoiced” but is “only concerned that their living together before the marriage took place should be so generally known” (347). Very nice; very Regina George. Of course, Mr. Bennet, after his favorite daughter secured a very opportune marriage, responded with the same saccharine niceties: “I must trouble you once more for congratulations. Elizabeth will soon be the wife of Mr. Darcy” (365). Bonus points if this whole exchange happens over a cup of tea.

4. When traditional methods fail, you can just amp up the audacity: Percy Shelley and William Wordsworth

Percy Bysshe Shelley is here to assure you: in the name of public beef, there is no line that you can’t cross. Audacity! That’s what we’re looking for. And that’s what second-generation Romantic poet Shelley took advantage of in his feud with the first-generation William Wordsworth. Wordsworth had done his time as a radical artist, and had retreated into a cushy government position. Shelley had… feelings about this. He took a moment to reflect on these feelings, went to see Wordsworth, and—sorry, still no, looks like that’s never going to happen. Shelley wrote a eulogy to Wordsworth (aptly titled “To Wordsworth”—again with the name-dropping), with a clear message: you’re so disappointing compared to your younger self, you might as well be dead. Ouch. In true Kanye fashion, the poet doesn’t mince words: “In honoured poverty thy voice did weave/Songs consecrate to truth and liberty,—/Deserting these, thou leavest me to grieve,/Thus having been, that thou shouldst cease to be” (11-14). If you’re allowed to go there, it follows that there’s nowhere you can’t go—Shelley approves.

5. Go for broke if it’s about politics: Thomas Paine and Edmund Burke

The feud-inducing item for the past few examples have been literary—but things only get more heated when politics gets thrown into the mix. The French Revolution was of particular political interest to eighteenth-century English citizens, cleaving the country neatly into pro- and opponents. Edmund Burke was a strong opponent, vilifying the revolution and its supporters in the name of family and humanity, using such charged words as “alarm, dismay, and slaughter,” before launching into an imagined account of the Queen’s distress (1131). Thomas Paine felt a little differently about the revolution, and those feelings bled into his feelings about Burke. He critiques Burke’s “horrid principles,” pointing out his apparent “rancour, prejudice, ignorance, [and] knowledge” (1132). We’ve come to expect this behavior from poets, but Enlightenment-era essayists? The shocking dress-down can only be the result of politics-fueled fury, which might sound familiar. If it does, incredible news: channeling your anger about a person’s political beliefs into anger at them is super 18th/19th century approved. Especially if that person wrote a really annoying think piece about it.

[blog-sappho-s-movies]

SALIR DEL ROPERO/ SO MY GRANDMA’S A LESBIAN! (2019)

This movie was trash. I’m sorry but I couldn’t stand it. I understand that it’s a comedy, and it was supposed to be light and funny but it wasn’t. It was just cringey. 

So the movie tells a story of a woman named Eve who finds out that her grandma Sofia is a lesbain and she is going to marry her fiancee Celia.  But this granddaughter is going to marry a Scot whose family is very conservative and doesn’t tolarate gay people so she decides to stop her grandmother from getting married and she plans to convince her that it’s a horrible idea.

The plot is so bad. The lesbian couple - Celia and Sofia say they want to come out and tell everyone how much they love each other. But Celia is scared to come out to her son (what I fully understand) but then she gives an interview about pope Francis supporting her wish to get married to a woman and she is not scared suddenly but then Sofia who wasn’t scared to tell her family is scared that everyone, the whole town will find out. So they say they will get married, then they cancel it and then they again say they will get married. And I didn’t really  see that they loved each other. Not at all. They were only telling everyone how much they loved each other. But the movie didn’t show their relationship, it actually showed that they had some moments of misunderstanding and conflicts. 

But in general this is not a good movie. The scenario is weird, the acting is bad, the editing is the worst and the soundtrack and the choice of the songs is very questionable.

This movie has everything. Everything. It has two elderly lesbians who “sacrificed their whole lives to please society’s expectations”. It has a rich homophobic family of Eve’s fiance who “support Brexit and Trump”. It has a brother of Eva who converted to islam. It has a biracial couple (mother of Eva and her boyfriend) It even has pope Francis who calls to the characters and tells them that he’s supportive of gay marriages and he tries to change the church. But to me all this doesn’t really feel natural, it felt so forced, like they were trying to show everyone but they didn’t seem like real characters but just as figures who were representing a minority/a social group. 

And despite the fact that there is such a diversity when it comes to the characters, the movie still, in its center has a white heterosexual woman who cheats on her Scot fiance with another heterosexual white man. (who is a son of Eva’s grandmother’s fiancee Celia) And their love-affair is actually the center of a movie (the moment when they were pretending to be gorilas killed me) So the movie for me is a perfect example of a movie with LGBT characters made for heterosexual audience which aim is to convince those heterosexual, conservate people that in fact being gay is not that bad and is not such a sin if even the pope supports LGBT people. 

I fully understand the message which the movie wanted to send, which is that love has no age and people at any age can fall in love and get married and coming out is not only for teenagers and people in their 20s but for everyone. But the message is the only good thing about the movie. And I think that such a message deserves a better movie. 

I’m giving it 1/10

Category: movie with lesbains as protagonists