#it was an honour and a pleasure to draw these two gentlemen for you

[artgroves]

Just a couple of cool cats, doing whatever cool cats do

for @mystrana and greywrites who won the @marveltrumpshate bid on the @marvelartparty offer for 9 arts x 9 artists. Thank you guys!

[quillsink]

List of times Steuben is mentioned in John Laurens’s letters

Wow, what’s this? An ACTUAL HISTORICAL POST?!?

So, when I was reading through John’s correspondence, I found all these mentions of Steuben, so I started adding them into a doc and that doc got very long so I am posting my “research” *aggressive air quotes* here.

Putting this under a read more because it’s roughly 1900 words and kinda long-

“the pleasure of Baron Steuben’s acquaintance. Nothing that depends on me shall be wanting to make his stay in camp agreeable, and if he enters into service, to make myself useful to him.”

-JL to HL, 17th February 1778

“I have since had several long conversations with the Baron Steuben, who appears to me a man profound in the science of war, and well disposed to render his best services to the United States. In an interview between him and the general, at which I assisted in quality of interpreter, he declared that he had purposely waved making any contract with Congress, previous to his having made some acquaintance with the Commander in chief, in order that he might avoid giving offence to the officers of the army, and that the general might decide, in what post he could he the most useful. If I have conceived rightly of his character and abilities, he would make us an excellent quarter master general, in the military part of the department; his office being confined to the choice of positions, regulation of marches, etc. But as the civil and military duties with us are blended, he can’t be disposed of in this way; his being a foreigner, unfitting him totally for the latter. I think he would be the properest man we could choose for the office of inspector general, and there are several good assist ants that might be given him. I have the highest opinion of the service he would render in this line, as he seems to be perfectly aware of the disadvantages under which our army has labored from short enlist ments and frequent changes; seems to understand what our soldiers are capable of, and is not so staunch a systematist as to be averse from adapting established forms to stubborn circumstances. He will not give us the perfect instructions, absolutely speaking, but the best which we are in a condition to receive.

We want some kind of general tutoring in this way so much, that as obnoxious as Conway is to most of the army, rather than take the field without the advantages that might be derived from a judicious exercise of his office, I would wish every motive of dissatisfaction respecting him for the present to be suppressed.

The baron proposes to take the rank of major general, with the pay, rations, etc. He does not wish for any actual command, as he is not acquainted with our language and the genius of our people.”

-JL to HL, 28th February 1778

“The Baron Steuben has had the fortune to please uncommonly, for a stranger, at first sight.

All the general officers who have seen him, are prepossessed in his favor, and conceive highly of his abilities. I must tell you tho , by the bye, that Congress has mistaken his rank in Prussia. He was there lieutenant general quartier maitre, which in good English is deputy quarter master general. He had never any higher rank in the Prussian service, than that of colonel. But he was lieutenant general of the Margrave de Baden’s troops, after he had retired from the Prussian army in disgust, As far as my line can reach, I conceive the baron to be profound in the military science.

The General seems to have a very good opinion of him, and thinks he might be usefully employed in the office of inspector general, but I fancy is cautious of recommending it to Congress, as he might appear implacably to pursue a certain person to whom Congress gave that post. Now it is a doubt with me whether the gentleman in question was not virtually removed from the inspectorship by being ordered on the Canadian expedition. In that case, the difficulty would be obviated. The baron s own desire is to have for the present the rank and pay of major general; not to have any actual command, until he is better known, and shall be better qualified by a knowledge of our language, and the genius and manners of the people. Then, if any stroke is to be struck, his ambition prompts him to solicit a command.”

“With this you will receive a letter from Baron Steuben.”

-JL to HL, 9th March 1778

“The Baron Steuben has commenced the functions of inspector general. Several officers whose character and abilities give them influence, and are pledges of success, are to be nominated as sub-inspectors ; intelligent active men are appointed to each brigade to serve as brigade inspectors. The baron has given some elementary lessons in writing, preparatory to ulterior instructions ; and we hope by this institution that the important end of establishing uniformity of discipline and manoeuvres throughout the army will be accomplished.

This I communicate to yourself only, for I don’t know whether the general communicates this plan by this courier for ratification.

The baron discovers the greatest zeal, and an activity which is hardly to be expected at his years. The officers in general seem to entertain a high opinion of him, and he sets them an excellent example in descending to the functions of a drill- sergeant.

A French gentleman of the name of Ternant with whom I was slightly acquainted at the cape François, is arrived in camp, and offers himself as one of the sub-inspectors. His talents qualify him in a superior degree for the office. He has travelled so much as to have worn off the characteristic manners of his nation, and he speaks our language uncommonly well.

The baron is very desirous of having him as an assistant, and says he is persuaded he will be an acqui sition to the States. The only thing against him is, that he comes without recommendatory letters. The Congress have I think very wisely resolved against employing any more foreigners unless they are forced to it by the special contracts of their embassadors, or very pointed recommendations. On this account the General has, in order that the baron might not lose so good an assistant, put the matter upon this footing : that Mr. Ternant may exercise the office of sub-inspector without rank for the present ; and that when his practical abilities are as well known as his theoretical, Congress will determine a rank suitable to his merit. It is to be observed that he studied engineer ing particularly, and would have wished to join the corps here, but party differences were an invincible obstacle. He has not, however, confined his views to that branch of military science, but seems to be equally well instructed in every other.

If an exception to the generally established rule is ever to be made, I think it can never be with more propriety than in favour of a person who merits such qualifications.

The baron desires his friendly compliments to you. Apropos to him, his secretary, and a Monr de Pontieres have certificates signed by the president of Congress setting forth that they are to have the rank of captains.

I think they were not announced as such to the General. Baron Steuben s secretary is desirous of drawing his pay, and upon application to the General, who is not explicitly acquainted with the intentions of Congress in this matter, was required to draw on account. This has created some uneasiness in the Baron’s mind, and he wishes to know whether Mr. Duponceau is not entitled to the pay, as well as rank of captain.”

-JL to HL, 25th March 1778

“I must not omit to inform you that Baron Steuben is making a sensible progress with our soldiers. The officers seem to have a high opinion of him, and discover a docility from which we may augur the most happy effects.”

-JL to HL, 1st April 1778

“Apropos to spurs, I think in the present deplorable scarcity of good horses, it would be a very acceptable present to the Baron Steuben on the part of Congress to give him an elegant saddle horse. He is exerting himself like a lieutenant anxious for promotion, and the good effects of his labour are visible.

The General I apprehend is restrained from writing to Congress on this head till he shall be acquainted with the sentiments of the brigadiers respecting the Baron’s rank (but this between ourselves), as far as I can learn in conversation with those gentlemen, every one is convinced of his zeal and abilities, and thinks him deserving of the grade which he asks for.”

-JL to HL, 18th April 1778

“Yesterday we celebrated the new alliance, with as much splendour as the short notice would allow. Divine service preceded the rejoicing. After a pro per pause, the several brigades marched by their right to their posts in order of battle, and the line was formed with admirable rapidity and precision. Three salutes of artillery, thirteen each, and three general discharges of a running fire by the musquetry, were given in honour of the king of France, the friendly European powers, and the United American States. Loud huzzas!

The order with which the whole was conducted, the beautiful effect of the running fire, which was executed to perfection, the martial appearance of the troops, gave sensible pleasure to every one present. The whole was managed by signal, and the plan, as formed by Baron de Steuben, succeeded in every particular, which is in a great measure attributed to his unwearied attention, and to the visible progress which the troops have already made, under his discipline.”

-JL to HL, 7th May 1778

“The Baron de Steuben desires to be remembered to you. Some jealousies against him have occasioned him great trouble, and interrupted his progress in the military instruction.”

-JL to HL, 14th June 1778

“The Baron de Steuben has received a letter from Mr de Beaumarchais, which informs him that war is rekindled between the Russians and Turks that the king of Prussia is in Bohemia, at the head of 00,000 men, where he has already seized a fortified castle and two regiments, to show that he is determined to have satisfaction for the dismemberment of the electorate of Bavaria.”

-JL to HL, 15th June 1778

“Baron Steuben was order’d to form the broken troops in the rear.”

-JL to HL, 30th June 1778

“Genl Steuben, his aids and your son, narrowly escaped being surrounded by the British horse, early on the morning of the action. We reconnoitered them rather too nearly, and Ld Cornwallis sent the dragoons of his guard to make us prisoners. Genl Clinton saw the Baron’s star, and the whole pursuit was directed at him ; but we all escaped, the dragoons fearing an ambuscade of infantry.”

-JL to HL, 2nd July 1778

“Unfortunately there is a prejudice against foreigners in many of our officers. It is not without uneasiness that some of them see Baron de Steuben, who has certainly rendered us very important services, and who is without doubt as capable of commanding as any major general we have, appointed to the temporary command of a division in the absence of so many major generals.”

-JL to HL, 6th July 1778

Source - The Army Correspondence of Colonel John Laurens in the Years 1777-8

[meddlewithmycase]

Anne Boleyn (c. 1501/1507 – 19 May 1536) The daughter of Thomas Boleyn, later Earl of Wiltshire and Earl of Ormond, and his wife, Lady Elizabeth Howard, daughter of Thomas Howard, 2nd Duke of Norfolk. Thomas Boleyn was a well-respected diplomat with a gift for languages; he was also a favorite of Henry VII of England, who sent him on many diplomatic missions abroad. Anne and her siblings grew up at Hever Castle in Kent. Anne's great-great-great-grandparents included a Lord Mayor of London, a duke, an earl, two aristocratic ladies, and a knight. One of them, Geoffrey Boleyn, had been a mercer and wool merchant before becoming Lord Mayor. The Boleyn family originally came from Blickling in Norfolk, 15 miles (24 km) north of Norwich.

Anne's early education was typical for women of her class. In 1513, Anne was invited to join the schoolroom of Margaret of Austria and her four wards. She caught the eye of the king of England upon her return to England to be a lady in waiting to Queen Catherine. Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn married in a secret ceremony on November 14, 1532. After her coronation, Anne settled into a quiet routine at the King's favorite residence, Greenwich Palace, to prepare for the birth of her baby. The child was born slightly prematurely on 7 September 1533. Between three and four in the afternoon, Anne gave birth to a girl, who was christened Elizabeth, probably in honor of either or both Anne's mother Elizabeth Howard and Henry's mother, Elizabeth of York. But the birth of a girl was a heavy blow to her parents since they had confidently expected a boy. 

On 2 May 1536, Anne was arrested and taken to the Tower of London by barge. It is likely that Anne may have entered through the Court Gate in the Byward Tower rather than the Traitors' Gate, according to historian and author of The Life and Death of Anne Boleyn, Eric Ives. In the Tower, she collapsed, demanding to know the location of her father and "swete broder", as well as the charges against her. On the 6th of May, she wrote the king for the last time:

Sir,

Your Grace's displeasure, and my imprisonment are things so strange unto me, as what to write, or what to excuse, I am altogether ignorant. Whereas you send unto me (willing me to confess a truth, and so obtain your favour) by such an one, whom you know to be my ancient professed enemy. I no sooner received this message by him, than I rightly conceived your meaning; and if, as you say, confessing a truth indeed may procure my safety, I shall with all willingness and duty perform your demand.

But let not your Grace ever imagine, that your poor wife will ever be brought to acknowledge a fault, where not so much as a thought thereof preceded. And to speak a truth, never prince had wife more loyal in all duty, and in all true affection, than you have ever found in Anne Boleyn: with which name and place I could willingly have contented myself, if God and your Grace's pleasure had been so pleased. Neither did I at any time so far forget myself in my exaltation or received Queenship, but that I always looked for such an alteration as I now find; for the ground of my preferment being on no surer foundation than your Grace's fancy, the least alteration I knew was fit and sufficient to draw that fancy to some other object. You have chosen me, from a low estate, to be your Queen and companion, far beyond my desert or desire. If then you found me worthy of such honour, good your Grace let not any light fancy, or bad council of mine enemies, withdraw your princely favour from me; neither let that stain, that unworthy stain, of a disloyal heart toward your good grace, ever cast so foul a blot on your most dutiful wife, and the infant-princess your daughter. Try me, good king, but let me have a lawful trial, and let not my sworn enemies sit as my accusers and judges; yea let me receive an open trial, for my truth shall fear no open flame; then shall you see either my innocence cleared, your suspicion and conscience satisfied, the ignominy and slander of the world stopped, or my guilt openly declared. So that whatsoever God or you may determine of me, your grace may be freed of an open censure, and mine offense being so lawfully proved, your grace is at liberty, both before God and man, not only to execute worthy punishment on me as an unlawful wife, but to follow your affection, already settled on that party, for whose sake I am now as I am, whose name I could some good while since have pointed unto, your Grace being not ignorant of my suspicion therein. But if you have already determined of me, and that not only my death, but an infamous slander must bring you the enjoying of your desired happiness; then I desire of God, that he will pardon your great sin therein, and likewise mine enemies, the instruments thereof, and that he will not call you to a strict account of your unprincely and cruel usage of me, at his general judgment-seat, where both you and myself must shortly appear, and in whose judgment I doubt not (whatsoever the world may think of me) mine innocence shall be openly known, and sufficiently cleared. My last and only request shall be, that myself may only bear the burden of your Grace's displeasure, and that it may not touch the innocent souls of those poor gentlemen, who (as I understand) are likewise in strait imprisonment for my sake. If ever I found favour in your sight, if ever the name of Anne Boleyn hath been pleasing in your ears, then let me obtain this request, and I will so leave to trouble your Grace any further, with mine earnest prayers to the Trinity to have your Grace in his good keeping, and to direct you in all your actions. From my doleful prison in the Tower, this sixth of May;

Your most loyal and ever faithful wife,

Anne Boleyn.

This did not save her. She was beheaded with those accused of being her lover including her brother; unlike the four men sent to death, Anne was dispatched from the unkind life by the sword on May 19th. Her daughter Elizabeth was two years old; when Elizabeth became queen her mother became a martyr of the Protestant faith.

[dwestfieldblog]

A VERY REMOTE ENGLISH TEACHER

Where meditations, rants, reverie and absent seizures cross over... closer to one gun with one bullet, the rose of ruby and the cross of gold...uff, and MENTACIDE IN THE TIME OF MASQUES. Although I have never suffered from the guilty masochistic torture of ‘pleasure anxiety’, Bacchus hath indeed drowned more men than Neptune.  So I stopped drinking for 18 days to fool myself I was doing something positive and threw away enough things to be minimalist again. Arf. Beauty and/or function uber alles.  

Been treading water for three years and trying not to drown...big round of one hand clapping for the former poet. Meanwhile, in this temporary world and perception I have created of it, I am looking at a very possible exile one way or the other...my ‘plan’...a long phased withdrawal or hasty retreat. My wish is to stay, but once I leave, it might well be very hard to return.  Read as many metaphors as you want into that but in spite of my dislike of the conservatively minded Aristotle’s ‘either/or’ nonsense, there do indeed appear to be only two this time. And appear is the operative word. Appearances can be deceptive and emotions (unless raised and focused) cloud over what should be clear. Pain has a tendency to breed worry and fear too but let’s draw a veil over that for now eh? Suppress, suppress, release comes later...breathe deep and try not to cough, onward we go where the game gets rough...Just like Tom Thumbs Blues 65.  

Remember Roman Protasevich...As Lukasenko himself said...‘Belarus stood at the edge of an abyss and I helped it take a step forward’. Look good on your tombstone that will Al. Fecking outrageous the Indian PM only admitted in May that covid was transmitted in the air. He needs removing... as do two thirds of all the other world leaders East and West. Hello Bollsanaro. People are very easy to manipulate when they’re are scared or angry...and right now the world majority are both. But, ‘there is a crack in everything... that’s how the light gets in’... and ‘things could change’, doesn’t have to be for the worse. It can take decades to realise this as actual truth, but still nice to read and try internalise the following last week.’The odds actually favour the optimists, since dissipate structures are more likely to evolve into more information rich (intelligent?) forms than into primitive or chaotic forms.’ All my friends bar my best one are optimists..Hello you:-)

Ever onward deeper downward with Orban in Hungary and his mission of ‘Christian values’, which involves a familiar routine of arresting, beating and disappearing dissenters in the name of Christ and taking over the universities to replace professors with those who understand on which side their bread is buttered. Decent judges long gone. Nice fascist communism...and ex soldiers in France and the Czech republic warning of civil war...

And now spiraling we go into the black hole vortex of Disaster capitalism, ‘Let the bodies pile high’. There’s gold in them thar ills....ISLAND PARANOIA and PERFIDIOUS ALBION! A country which demands a contract, agrees, signs to it and then refuses to honour it. We look worse than ridiculous, we look deceitful. Gentlemen, your places please. Boris Johnson is a clumsy, inept, disgraceful charlatan, con merchant and LIAR. A blustering master bullshit artist, the only decent thing about his recent secret wedding is that now he legally has one less bastard child.  

Recently I read that British people are displaying signs of Stockholm syndrome...in that they dislike those who hold power over them and make the rules but during the time of pandemic, they are the ones who will release the saviour vaccine and get everything moving again. So rather than rocking the boat and daring to express dissent at the DIABOLICAL handling of the last 18 months, they have mostly kept quiet and voted for the same endlessly failing, corrupt and venal politicians who made a bad situation far worse. (That said, it bears repeating that there are a few million in the UK who didn’t quite understand that that the spread of a highly contagious airborne virus can be slowed by the wearing of masks/applying basic hygiene and even took offence at being told what should have made sense to any adult homo SAPIENS half capable of cogitating for themselves. Morons and scum. Same where you are?

By the way BBC...the colossal dearth of stories about the endless government failures in relation to Covid, death, corruption and the NHS...ever since they blackmailed you with threats of revoking the TV licence fee and got you to change Directors has been noted. Long may Have I Got News For You continue the satire and balance needed in a DEMOCRACY. Obey your public servants? Why, when they do not serve few but themselves? Power OF the people? Which ones...the mob? The same bleating pricks who follow populists?

Four eyed beanpole fop Rees Mogg, with his wonderful line that the benefits of Brexit will be seen ‘over the next fifty years’...well yes, that is why most people vote in democratic elections eh?...So they will be dead or ancient before the change they hoped for comes...and the politicians who lead them now, will have all long moved on to revolving door chairman of the board offshore limited liability company paradise. Bread today jam tomorrow fairytales. What I tell you three times is true.  

O, but the English do so love to be told what to do by dumb posh boys who treat them like dirt. Some are forelock tugging and some are self flagellating middle class upper class wannabes who will never get there but still feel proud they are not street level proles. Doby the house elf alien hamster Michael Gove found guilty of breaking the law. Nothing. Internal inquiries run by those connected to the money changing hands find nothing illegal. Corruption for all to see...and ignore. ‘Well, what can we do?’ The uselessly inept serial failure Dido Harding to be in charge of the National Health Service? (she of the collapsed Woolworths, Talk Talk and the 22 BILLION pound loss of the Covid Track and Trace program where non working consultants/insultants, were paid 1000 pounds a day). American style privatisation is coming where only the wealthy or criminal can afford to be repaired and well. Sick.  

Meanwhile, All our imported nurses out, and all the lobster red fat Spanish costa de la sol criminals back in. Great exchange, fair trade and forward thinking. The Kremlin are manipulating/supporting Scottish independence... I read years ago about their base in Edinburgh for Russia Today (the foul insert in The Daily Telegraph) and they were already encouraging it. Rees Smug has accelerated and supported their freedom with his snobbish utterances on countries in the UK other than England and their ‘foreign languages’. With every patronising, arrogant pronouncement, the Eton trifles fuel the fire in Scotland which has a long bitter history of being tortured, murdered and subjugated by their southern masters. Perhaps the chumocracy in Downing Street believe the Celts to be as easily cowed as the middle and working classes down south. Here’s hoping not. ‘Rebellious Scots to crush’? Not this time pal.

As for the future of Britain? A dystopian open prison where the lower social classes toil only at the pleasure of their masters. The higher caste getting richer and all others cast into a living Hell of debt, crime, and sickness. Serve until you die and be thankful we allow you to exist. Increasing in utter irrelevance to the world, other than as an example of how wrong a former democracy can go. This future started decades ago...its baobab roots truly deep now. Better education and critical thinking for the masses in the UK (or anywhere else) is highly unlikely now. Optimism huh? As long as I am not in England, I will still be able to tap into it, but once enclosed long term in the group mind there...trapped in a grey quagmire. Keep smiling...

Several weeks ago, I watched a video on YT of apparently English protestors running after the police in London, some attacking and throwing things, one pulling off the pandemic mask of an officer and all shouting abuse at the outnumbered cops who had to keep pulling back. As always, to get my caffeine rush of fury going, I read the comments and was surprised to see two or three from Chinese names. Almost all comments were against the government (fair enough) and dumb against the lock down, masks, vaccinations etc. Checking again, I saw the video had been posted by CGTN...a media company owned and run by the communist party in Beijing...and not one author of diatribes had mentioned this, nor speculated with a critical thought as to why such an organisation might enjoy turning people against their own democratically elected government (however mind rippingly foul and corrupt they are).

I copy pasted the Wikipedia paragraph about the company onto the page and hoped someone else would make the connection. I wouldn’t mind so much IF there were a credible and decent alternative other than the diseased populist poison for which the demonstrating goons chant. China really cares about the standard of democracy in Britain eh? Persuade your enemies to weaken themselves. Destroying countries by encouraging their ‘patriots’.

(That was written on the anniversary of Tienanmen Square...a few days later Xi Jinping gave a speech saying ‘...a lovable and respectable’ China must be presented to the world and must ‘expand its circle of friends’. Tell that to your teenage ‘dissidents’, Muslims, Falun Gong and Tibetans being tortured and brainwashed in prisons or being used for organ harvesting. Tell it to Hong Kong and Taiwan.) 

Unholy America...against abortion and the pill, sex education’s not Gods will and in the Name of Christ they kill...if truth be known, we’ve failed the test...but Jesus was a Socialist and Republican conservatives hate them. The founding fathers of America were Very clear about separation of church and state with damn good Reason. Another part time Christian, Mike Pompeo wants to be president. Q Onan deepstorm morons/Kremlin stool pigeons aka POLEZNYYE IDIOTY continue to push for Trump and his Big Lie...He with the brain where ‘In the left, nothing is right and in the right, nothing’s left.’ Arf.

Over the last two decades, the dumb have been finding their voice and are now louder and prouder of their dumbass ignorance. 74 million in the US alone, their egos unable to retreat in the face of endless evidence to the contrary, they all double down. Like children sticking their fingers in their grimy ears sing songing ‘la la la can’t hear you’. 74 million versions of Eric Cartman, loud, proud and wrong. And uuff, Megan Markle,  Majorie Taylor Greene, walking Picasso collage (bad car driver) Caitlin Jenner and Ivana Trump in politics...not exactly holding a proud lantern for women eh? I’d like to buy them for what they are worth and sell them for what they think they are worth. Not very PC?  

That was the point. Could easily been written about all of the men written about here too. Next examples follow...

Tucker Carlson and Alex Jones compete for who can be as mentally ill as trump. The Miami school where the husband and wife directors told teachers not to return if they had HAD their vaccine shots because their proximity to students was interfering with menstrual cycles and uuuufff...The sickness of utter mind buggering stupidity. I had my first shot, now waiting to turn reptilian when the 5G masts triangulate my position. Fnord. Covid appears to be killing more overweight meat eating males than females...perhaps testosterone is not useful for the coming Race of non binary mutant hermaphrodites...and look out for the end of the Y chromosome, coming to a temporary universe near you...in 4.6 million years. Yes, really.  

Glad Netanyahu is out at last, smug corruption is never a good look unless one is a rich criminal. Ha.  The Promised land of Israel...If I was in court for serial murder, breaking, entering and stealing and then defended my actions by saying that God had told me to do it, would the Judge; A. Call for a psychiatric report, B. Disregard the statement as unprovable and pass the appropriate sentence, C, say Ok mate, you’re free to go, good luck to you. ? Moses had a good schtick.

The law is only to punish the poor, do you feel as if you suffer from empathy? Once you know, you no longer need to believe. What does ‘reality’ seem to be? The more certain you are, the stupider you get and belief is the death of intelligence. The machine is running the engineers. What is the definition of rationality...the quality of being based on or in accordance with reason or logic. 

Nothing is, but thinking makes it so. Epicurus.  

EVERYTHING NOT COMPULSORY IS FORBIDDEN.

The glamour illusion of the mass of pointless hot influencers needs a constant renewing of the Banishing Ritual as much as all the pigslop bile coming from Fox News and Sky. Bloody long haired commie liberal faggot they cry against any not identical to them. Some days I have only flamethrowers of hatred for these idiots. Other days...not exactly self doubt, just questions...most of us seem to believe our opinions are more valid when there are emotions connected to them. Including me. Again, this seems like a very weak version of ‘truth’, unless disciplined, channeled and focused to a certain end.

Life appears to exist in order to become via chaos.

Most of us are working only not to be homeless, some because of the joy in our chosen work regardless of finances. Until ‘reality’ kicks in the door...the bondage gets tighter when you struggle. How much hardship is the individual willing to endure these days by choice? Surrounded by a universe of distraction and destruction, Maya mewling for our attention. Five years of Trump, rampant populism and Brexit doing a Hexagram 23 on democracy, compounded by the pandemic...all on top of ‘normal’ daily life. The ego feeds and the immune system breaks down. Hard to ignore without being on a mountain or in a parallel dimension and emotion free other than compassion. But BY GODDESS IT CAN AND WILL BE DONE. Ladies of Life Nin Khursag, Isis, Kali, Aradia...Love one, Love ALL. At very least have respect for thyself but be not thou proud of thine arrogance nor thy suffering.  

Or just Remember where you came from, what you were, seem to be and will become.

Heal, heal, more work to do, more love to give, more love to feel, Heal. Stay in drugs, eat your school and don’t do vegetables. Impose your own reality upon and through yourself, breathe, exhale, repeat, and continue, LOVE UNDER WILL. Experience and absorb but ‘It’s a house of tricks, ignore the world’’.

Stay well, be seeing you:-)

[jovialyouthmusic]

Past Times

A Period Drama loosely based on TRR

As above, this story is VERY loosely based on TRR and is a fantasy acted out in Bastien’s head - or is it Sophia’s fevered dream?

Word Count 1359

A/N This is a change for me, though as I’m English and grew up steeped in works by the Brontes and Jane Austen, the dialogue comes easily to me. I’d be grateful for any feedback...

Prologue

The day after Valentine’s day, Bastien rose early and went off for his final meeting with Mark Potter, his counterpart at Holyrood house in Edinburgh, seat of the British Monarch Queen Elizabeth. Sophia had to amuse herself for the morning, as Drake and Riley had a flight to New York to catch, but Bastien had promised to be back for lunch and the rest of their day would be theirs. The following day the royal jet would take them home to Cordonia.

Sophia returned to the hotel at lunchtime and they had their meal in the lounge of their suite, looking over to the Castle at the top of the Royal Mile.

‘What did you do this morning?’ Bastien asked ‘I’d like to visit the Modern Art Gallery this afternoon’

‘I visited the Georgian house museum’ Sophia said ‘They laid the house out as it was in the 18th century in Regency times. All the time I worked here, I never went to see round it’

‘It sounds intriguing’ Bastien replied ‘What was it like?’

‘Life was very different then’ she smiled ‘The original owner lived there with his wife and two daughters. There was a film showing with a historical depiction of the time when the older daughter was ready to marry. Apparently she was paired off with an English sea captain, and I wondered what that might have been like. It was quite vivid’

‘Tell me more, theá mou’ Bastien smiled ‘I could imagine myself a making a bid for the hand of a young noblewoman in marriage’

------

‘So now we are husband and wife’ Captain Lykel said ‘I know you turned down many other suitors before me, so I am grateful to have passed your rigorous standards’ Elizabeth  smiled. Hr new husband was some six years her senior, but that was not unusual in Regency Scotland. Matches were generally made with respectable men of sufficient wealth to keep up the reputation of the young women of polite society.

‘I believe you are the better choice than the young man who courted me only a year ago’ she said ‘When I overheard him saying he wanted a biddable wife who would submit to him in all ways, all thoughts of romance fled from my mind’ Her thoughts went back to the evening she had hidden behind the curtains in her father’s library in order to surprise the young man who wooed her and had asked her father for her hand in marriage at the serviceable age of seventeen.

Her plan started to look foolish, as first one of the other guests entered – Captain Lykel, a few years her senior and a childless widower. He had married young and his wife had died when he was away at sea, fighting the French navy. She had drawn back into the shadows as he began to peruse the shelves for an unknown work when her beau and his friends entered, laughing and joking.

‘So, Duncan , you’ll be a married man by the end of the year. That will put paid to your visits to Mistress Reed’s establishment and the delights of the young doxies there’ one of them said loudly. Elizabeth  blanched at the revelation that her prospective husband visited women of ill repute, and shrank further into the window seat. She was suddenly horribly aware that Captain Lykel had seen the movement, and looked in her direction to gain eye contact with her for a split second before clearing his throat to announce his presence to the other men.

‘Ho, Captain Lykel, you have no wife, you should visit Mistress Reed’s house’ one of them laughed ‘It is a fine place, the ladies there are most accommodating’ Elizabeth could scarcely believe her ears – how could they speak so freely of women of easy virtue? The captain spoke up

‘You may excuse me, I indeed I am a widower and lack the comfort of female companionship, but you are yet to take a wife and should take care not to consort with women who are not welcome in polite society’ He replied, but Elizabeth ’s intended husband scoffed at him

‘I but practice with willing whores, Sir. My intended spouse is a delicate creature, and I doubt she will gain the skills that Mistress Reed’s practice. A wife is only good for bearing children and seeing to the running of one’s household.’

‘Surely you seek the companionship of an equal’ the Captain retorted ‘someone with whom you can converse on topics of interests and discuss the proper upbringing of your children?’ Duncan  had laughed, and his friends with him.

‘Surely you don’t think women are equal to men? For them to converse on an equal footing is the work of a deluded mind’ Elizabeth could scarcely believe to hear the true thoughts of the man who had made a bid for her hand in marriage. All her ideals and dreams were crumbling to dust at his crass utterances.

‘On the contrary, although women’s minds work differently, they complement ours. The companionship of an intelligent woman is something to be sought’ The Captain went on, and the group of young men laughed derisively

‘It is impossible for women to comprehend subjects of importance beyond childbearing and domestic matters’ Duncan  retorted ‘Someone of your age should surely have realised that by now – are you soft in the head? Perhaps your injury has addled your mind as well as slowed your gait’ He had gestured toward the older man, who Elizabeth realised walked with the aid of a cane. He inclined his head ruefully and she saw a scar on his cheek.

‘I was injured in the line of duty, defending my country and the life of my Captain. I assure you my injury has not affected the working of my mind’ he asserted ‘Perhaps were you to join the Navy and go to sea you might gain perspective on the nature of your existence’ he paused, then thoughtfully added ‘I am also a widower and know the nature of women far more than you.’ Duncan scowled and gestured to his friends.

‘I do not care to converse with one who is clearly not right in the head’ he said curtly ‘Come, let’s go back to the drawing room and join the other gentlemen. Sir James has good whiskey and cigars in plenty, as well as two eligible daughters. I look forward to calling this house my own once he has departed this world and left me his daughter and his fortune’ and with that, the young men departed. The Captain remained, and waited until the door had closed before standing by the curtain and speaking in a low voice.

‘I know you are there, Miss Elizabeth ’ he said ‘I am truly sorry you had to hear what has just been uttered by one who should have more respect for your delicate sensibilities. I will depart this room, have no fear that I will besmirch your reputation by remaining’

‘No please – stay a while’ she said softly ‘None will know we are alone together’

‘I fear we may be discovered, and for a young lady such as yourself, reputation is everything’ he replied.

‘Then at least do me the honour of conversing with me when the gentlemen rejoin the ladies’ she asked ‘I do not wish to talk with my intended. He has revealed his true nature, and I hope I may be able to turn down his offer of marriage.’ She indicated the book he had taken down from the shelf ‘I also see you appreciate the work of Burns. Please, bring the book with you. It is a favourite of mine and I may use it as an excuse to confer with you’ The Captain made a low bow

‘It will be my pleasure’ he said ‘You may guess that the comparison of mutual interests is something I seek most earnestly’ He turned and left the library, and Elizabeth waited for a little while before returning to the other ladies in preparation for the men coming back for the remainder of the evening of her father’s social gathering.

[mrmrswales]

A speech delivered by The Duke of Cambridge at a reception hosted by the British High Commissioner to Pakistan

Assalam O Alaikum. Thank you Tom for that kind introduction.

Ladies and gentlemen, it is our great pleasure to join you here this evening on our first official visit to Pakistan.

Already, Catherine and I have been honoured by the hospitality you have shown us, and we have certainly managed to make our way through a record breaking amount of food so generously offered by our hosts….

I would like to begin by saying bahut shukria to you all for making us so welcome in your country.

Stood here with this magnificent monument behind me, I am struck by the great strides Pakistan has made since its birth seventy-two years ago.

The view from this hill would have been quite different when my grandmother, The Queen, first visited over half a century ago.

Looking out, one would have seen the beginnings of a city under construction, yet to become the great capital that it is today.

And with successive visits by my mother and my father, this view has continued to change, with the city constantly growing and with it my family’s affection for Pakistan.

This is the world’s sixth largest country by population. It has an unbelievably diverse geography that spans deserts to glaciers and everything in between. It is the birth place of the youngest ever Nobel Peace Prize winner. And I am told that it hosts not just the second highest mountain in the world, but also its highest cash machine!

It is also home to one of the youngest populations in the world, with an average age of just 24 – almost half that of the UK.

In a public school not far from where we gather this evening, Catherine and I saw young children learning and playing, aided by an inspiring teacher, trained through the Teach for Pakistan programme. 

We spoke with ambitious young women finishing their schooling and planning for university and work. As Muhammed Ali Jinnah said, “No struggle can ever succeed without women participating side by side with men”.

It was good to hear from President Alvi and Prime Minster Khan, earlier today that education will continue to be an important priority for Pakistan.

We also saw the brilliant work taking place in the Margalla Hills, where young children were being taught the importance of protecting and caring for the world around them.

The education of Pakistan’s next generation will be the key that turns the country’s growing population into an engine of growth and helps unlock this country’s enormous potential. A rapidly growing population presents you with an enormous opportunity, but also significant challenge.

The UK and Pakistan share unique bonds and so it will always be in our best interests for you to succeed. Not least because of the 1.5 million people living in the UK with Pakistani origin and the fact that the UK is one of the biggest investors in your economy.

You can rely on us to keep playing an important role as a key partner and your friend.

Delivering a future where Pakistan’s great potential can be realised will not be easy or without sacrifice.

For a country so young, Pakistan has endured many hardships, with countless lives lost to terror and hatred. Tonight I want to pay tribute to all those who have endured such sacrifice and helped to build the country that we see today.

Whether in Pakistan or the UK or elsewhere on our planet – we face shared global challenges. The effects of climate change threaten the present and the future – and therefore demand a concerted effort by everyone.

In Pakistan, your spectacular glaciers – and those of the wider Hindu Kush-Himalaya region – serve as a critical water store for a quarter of a billion people; and over 1.6 billion people rely on the great rivers that flow from the mountains in this part of the world.

Yet, because the effects of global warming at altitude, a one and a half degree Celsius temperature increase overall could mean warming of over two degrees Celsius for northern Pakistan’s highest mountains.

This could lead to a loss of over a third of these vital glaciers in less than a century, with enormous impacts not only on the availability of water, but on agriculture and hydropower generation.

Tomorrow we will be seeing some of these impacts first hand and meeting some of the communities adjusting to the new realities and new challenges that climate change has brought to their towns and villages. I hope to learn what more we all can do to help prevent and mitigate this impending global catastrophe.

Ladies and gentlemen, given the scale and complexities of the challenges that future generations will face, it is clear that we all need to work together. And whether it’s this generation or the next, I know that the UK and Pakistan will continue to exemplify the very best in international cooperation.

Yes, the challenges ahead are great. But we cannot be daunted, nor distracted. Instead we should draw strength from our shared bonds and heed the words of Muhammed Ali Jinnah as we do so, “My message to you all” he said “is of hope, courage, and confidence”.

Thank you.

[queerchoicesblog]

The Birthday Party (SC Titanic, Zetta x Adele Series, Ch. 10/2)

Here it is the second part of chapter 10!

Guys, I'm gonna be honest with you: I'm not sure when the next one will be out: it could be Tuesday next week or in weeks from now. So consider this series on potential hiatus. I'm struggling to find words in my everyday life and writing feels quite pointless atm. Hopefully if will change soon but that's the situation atm, I'm sorry.

Little disclaimer-favor: if you do enjoy it, please consider supporting the author & sharing this. A little gesture that means a lot!

Word Count: 3000+

Zetta x Adele Tag: @storyscaped@storyscapefanficarchive@marmolady @animus-and-anima @hayley-carter19 @escako@everlastingchoices @andrxrneda @aestheticsayeed@indescribablechoices @ahrielstuff@bornonawdnsday @nazario-sayeed  @h-doodles @adele-serda@marlcasters@brightpinkpeppercorn @nightwhite13@ramenwithaspoon@michelleconnoly @charliejane-blog @ghost-of-yuri@choicesgremlin @shadeofangelus @mistressofspiesxenia@orange-elephants​

Zetta x Adele Series Tag: @eternal-langdon @nydeiri

➡️ Ch. 1, Ch. 2/1, Ch. 2/2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8/1, Ch. 8/2, Ch. 9, Ch. 10/1

_____________________ 

Returning to the party still in full swing after my stolen moment with Adele is disheartening. I guess going back to our miseries in this crazy world after experiencing a glimpse of Heaven is pretty much the same feeling. I wonder how poor Dante coped back then. A smiling waiter hands me another glass of sweet alcoholic poison and I put my mask back on, even if I struggle now. I try to distract myself and be entertained by the chirpy conversations and gossips of my guests but my mind keeps running back to her. "I know, I wish this moment didn't have to end" "We'll make our own plays. Whaddya say?" I giggle at their silly jokes and outrageous stories, I retort with witticisms out of a script but I can't hear them, not truly. I'm not here. The Zetta is, not me. I am still in my lover's company. I can only hear her soft voice, our words of love. I don't have time nor will to hear that hilarious improbable story I'll absolutely have to tell Richard or that marvellous recent scientific discovery. I smile, I fake interest and thank God -and myself- I am a great actress.

As I move to another table where Lucille is beckoning me over I look out of the window, taking in the starry sky. I'm surprised but a quick smile cross my lips when I spot Adele hanging in there with a steward I saw around the lifts. They're leaning on the railing and chatting. They look like close friends: maybe they were accidentally reunited on board or is it true what they say? Ships make fast friends. I'll ask her about him. Not out of jealousy, even if I wish I could neglect my party more and run at her side where he stands. Even if I wish I could be the one making her laugh now. I just smile at the two of them, grateful that my troubled love is in good company tonight. God knows if she doesn't need a friend and some happiness after all she went through. And I'm afraid the worst is yet to come...

I do my best to lose myself in the complicated story about a common acquaintance my friend is sharing with the ladies and it works, to some extent. At least until when Sabine comes find me and invite the whole group to stand as the waiters pick up the table moving then toward the wall to clear space. Oh, we'll have some dancing! Even the musicians are now moving to the center of the far wall to be heard best. The crowd, myself included, is delighted and in awe. As the first chords of my favorite waltz start playing, everyone is looking for their partners and hurrying to finish their drinks. I drain mine, trying not to think of how much I would love to have this dance with my love no matter how inappropriate it would sound to many here. I ditch the Baron though -that lovable shark isn't fast enough this time!- and a couple of other hopeful admirers to hold Lawrence's hand. "Shall we dance, darling?" I smile encouraged you at him. We both long for a partner we can't pick out in the sun: let our shared sorrow fade away on the note of The Blue Danube, my dear friend. Lawrence understands or so it seems by the bittersweet yet thankful smile he offers me. He reads the unwritten and hears the unspoken words too. My poor dear Lawrence... We chat like old friends as we sway among the crowd. He's not only a brilliant director but also one of the finest dancer I've ever met. He blush a little when I sing his praises and just shrugs saying he has loved dancing. Typical, humble Lawrence... He lowers his voice a little when he thanks me for inviting him to the party, "well, me and Felix". He looks touched when I assure him that I wouldn't have had it any other way, I deeply value our friendship. "Me too, Zetta. You can count on me" he beams before his melancholic smile reappears. "If we close our eyes, we're in a fancy ballroom in Vienna" he whispers, leaning close and guiding the two of us into a graceful turn. I'm about to share a memory of my youth there with him, when I was blinded by the beauty and luxury of the imperial aristocracy there when ruckus erupts from the other side of the room. Surprised cries and laughter ring as the guests stop dancing and the music ceases. "What? My party is not over yet" I playfully protest, pouting. I'm suddenly nervous. I fear the time has come: time for the squalid yet hurtful family theatrics, time for James's show. I try to find out what's going on but I can't make my way through a crowd of ladies and gentlemen stretching their necks and whispering to each other. My fears are sadly confirmed when I catch the baritone voice of the Baron saying "Good show, Miss Carrem. Getting smart with you, was he?" "I'm afraid I cannot stand overfamiliarity. I apologise for making a scene" My love's voice is a bit shaken: is it anger or fright? Concern and fury take hold of me and I shutter my jaw. Lawrence squeezes my hand and I am grateful. "It is I who should apologise, on behalf of those who call themselves gentle..." the Baron continues but James interrupts him. "Oh do be quiet!" His tone is harsh, pure drunk rage. The crowd seems to lose interest in the argument and the music resumes but I'm still wary. I know James is up to something and it's just a matter of time. "I'm sure it's nothing, Zetta. A little misunderstanding...and Miss Carrem knows how to take care of herself" It's Lawrence. I turn to him and he's smiling reassuringly down at me, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. I feels so grateful for his lovable kindness right now, an anchor in a troubled sea. I nod and try to shake my bad gut feelings away. "Why don't we take a break and enjoy the waltz with a drink?" he adds, gesturing to the drink table near the window. I compliment his idea and let him guide me through the crowd. The cold her of the night cools me down and I take a long breath to soothe my nerves. Maybe I was wrong, maybe I'll be spared the drama. Unlikely but I can still hope right? I almost sink the glass of sherry Lawrence hands me, triggering a concerned look that I dismiss, claiming I'm perfectly fine. I just needed a break, I'm not twenty anymore, I grimly joke. "True Beauty never ages, dear Zetta. A beautiful soul defies the cruel compass of time" Lawrence proclaims with a smile. I ask him what poet wrote that line because I can't recollect it in the moment but I'm not surprised in the least to hear that he is the one behind that sweet thought. I pull him into a hug whispering thank you into his ear. When we part, he encourage me to make a wish. "It's your birthday, after all: isn't it a tradition in America?" he asks. I'm still considering and rambling when Felix and Sabine approach us. The party is going well and the guests are enjoying themselves. They just wanted to check in on the honeree, Felix says. Lawrence shows our empty glasses making a funny face and we all laugh. I ask about the little incident before. Felix assures me once again that it was nothing. I turn towards my little Napoleon for confirmation. "Oui, Madam. Nothing more than a quid pro quo. You know how it is. Youth" Sabine says but the look in her eyes tells a different story. "Miss Zetta, any chance you'll make an appearance in our documentary?" Felix intervenes, quickly changing the topic. "We would be most honoured" Lawrence adds, beaming. "A little tribute to one of the finest passengers of the liner" I give a soft laugh, playing with the idea. Maybe I could, after all. A quick cameo. It wouldn't take too much time. I playfully brush them off calling out their flattery but they assure they had considered it over the last few days on board. "It would be a pleasure and an honor" Felix bows. I sigh contently, my eyes wandering from one admirer and friend to the other. "Very well then, my dear friends: I'm in! Why don't we meet...let's say over breakfast or lun-" I start but I stop mid-sentence. Behind my back, an hysterical laugh echoes through the café, drawing the general attention. Conversations and music fades away and an awkward tense silence settles. Cold runs down my spine and I fear my face suddenly goes pale as I recognise the voice. Jamie. It's time. I must endure this bad farçe. I inhale sharply. You can do this, you are a great actress and you survived worst days. You survived Franz. Get ready, Zetta. On scene in three, two one... When I turn, he's stalking towards me, shirt stained with wine and an hysterical light gleaming in his bright eyes. He's dragging Adele along like a puppet. A disheartening picture compared to my fondest memories of him. "Excuse me, Aunt, I merely wished to offer a toast: my salutations on this glorious occasion and-" he exclaims, raising his glass and sloshing wine over the edges. "You interrupting to chew the cud, here, James? Get to the point" I sound a bit harsh, as if annoyed of another interruption. I roll my eyes as I would do with a problematic kid throwing a tantrum and forgetting his manners. Ironically, it's what he's doing, even if he's no longer a child. A weird, unpleasant smile crosses his face. Maybe he was expecting my reaction? "And a fond farewell to your secretary" he adds menacingly as I take a sip of sherry. I narrow my eyes at him over my glass, half annoyed, half amused. Bring it on, Jaime dear. "A farewell? And why might that be?" I see Sabine tensing up at my peripheral. James looks so pleased of himself as he takes the stage like a practiced professional. He doesn't realise he's just behaving like a pathetic buffoon to my -and most guests's -eyes. "To put it simply: Adele is a confidence woman who agreed to come abroad the Titanic to help me destroy you" "Come again?" I fake surprise as the crowd gasps and starts whispering. The attention and the look on my face renew his foolish fervor. "I brought Adele to help me ruin your marriage to Richard King, to keep him from ruining our family... For the price of her freedom, your secretary was to get close to you, discover your worst secret, and deliver it to me." He stops, making a dramatic pause. And now I know: it's the moment of truth. Time of Adele's choice. I stand, concealing my inner turmoil and fears, as the crowd basks into this unexpected juicy coup de theatre. When he speaks again, his mouth twists with a rage I've never fathomed he could hide inside. "She failed!" She...protected me? Even knowing at what cost... My eyes instinctively search Adele's but James is not done yet. "And now she'll go back to jail, where I found her" he shouts, spiralling out of control but loud enough to be heard by everyone. At the word "jail", the crowd utters a collective gasp. He wants to publicly humiliate her since he can't get what he was looking for. Because she dared refuse him the key to my ruin. I wish I could just drop the act and slap some sense into him. What pains me most is seeing him succeeding, to some extent. Adele is frowning under that low blow. I throw glares at everyone taking a step back from her as if she suddenly turned into a criminal or an insect. Miserable bastards... My love proves herself to be superior to all this, again. She straightens up and addresses the crowd, providing explanations she doesn't owe to any of us" "I was arrested for public disruption at a protest for women's rights. I'm not proud of having been jailed, but I'm not ashamed of what I was fighting for" she says, grimacing. Then she looks at me and I smile at her, hoping to convey all my respect, deepest affection and admiration for my sweet brave revolutionary. Let me help you now, my angel. I turn towards James and my smile loses all its warmth. "Bravo, James. You're quite the schemer" I knew he would be confused. I'll deny you something too, Jaime. You won't get an ounce of the despair you wanted. You won't see me crying and crumble under your betrayal: I'm not a Julius Caesar stumbling underneath your dagger. "That's all you have to say? You've been played. She was hired to ruin your marriage-" "She was, wasn't she?" I cut him short. "But she has a conscience, and a lot of courage" I take a pause before smiling again, cold and victorious. "Adele told me all about your terrible plan" His jaw drops and his rosy cheeks pale. He grabs Adele's arm and starts drunkly ramble again. "You - what? No. This doesn't change anything. I'll take you back-" This time Adele interrupts him, spitting the harsh truth right in his face. "Your only power was your wealth, and now that's gone. Along with the trust of your only relative" He releases her and I wonder if he finally realised what a fool, what an ungrateful fool he has been. Adele's right, James. When he turns to me, a desperate look on his face, I brace myself for his tears. Him begging for a forgiveness I'm not sure I will ever be able to give him. Apparently, I haven't learned my lesson: men can't be trusted. Men will always lie to you. "She's the one blackmailing me" Adding insult to injury, Jamie dear? "No, James. She's not" I'm cold and firm, despite the heartbreak I feel growing inside me. "You'll value the word of this secretary over your own blood?" His disbelief quickly turns into rage again. "I value my own sense, James; your plotting was plain as that smirk on your face" My voice is sharp: yes, I want to hurt him just like he hurt me. I want him to feel ashamed and sorry for what he did to me, to Adele. My sharp retort provokes some nervous giggles soon silenced in our audience. I sense fury building up inside him until it explodes. He bangs on the table with his fist, making everyone jump. "I'll get to Hileni, then, I'll hold her, I'll make you tell Zetta's secret-" Is he even speaking to Adele or...to himself? Honestly, I cannot tell. And I'm grateful to Matteo for intervening. I don't know what he's whispering into his ear but it seems to work. James seems to remember himself. For a split second, sadly. He straightens his cuffs and gives us all a tight, cruel smile. "Off to send word to the authorities, then" he says and turns to Adele and me. "As I said before, say your goodbyes" Then he walks away as the unabashed crowd part the way for his supposed grand exit. When he's out of the room, the guests are puzzled, unsure of what they just witnessed. They look at each other asking the neighbour or their partner what our family farçe was. I'm afraid this is just the beginning of another sorrow but the worst is gone. For the night, at least. I let out a long, exhausted sigh: God knows if it wasn't tough but I can breathe now. We can breathe again. And plan a counter attack to his pathetic scheme. I instinctively reach for her hand and take it into mine, uncaring of the crowd around us. "I didn't think the boy would actually do it" Yes, I tried to convince myself of that. I wanted to believe that he was apparently better than he actually is, that he wouldn't stoop so low...but what is my life if not a collection of disappointments from men? "Should I be worried?" There's a hint of concern in Adele's voice. I can't blame her: I don't recognise my nephew anymore, I can hardly tell how seriously we should consider his threats. "I doubt it, but he's not to be underestimated when his pocketbook is in peril" I know my answer offers little comfort but I continue, squeezing her hand to prove my loyalty to her: "Whatever he tries, though, I'll be by your side" Adele smiles down to our hands before meeting my eyes again. "I have faith in you, Zetta. Thank you" Despite I can see more than understandable concerns and fears written all over her face, she squeezes my hand back. I take a deep breath. The weight of the latest events is washing over me. "I'm going to retire to my room and prepare a message to my lawyers. If anyone can figure out a way to  keep you out of jail, it's them" "Are you certain?" I give my love a sad smile. "There's little certain in this life, sweetheart, but lawyers with a high hourly rate? They're as close as we'll get" We just smile at my little mot d'esprit. "This wasn't exactly the soirée I wanted, but I suppose the truth had to come out sometime." I continue. I look at her in the eye as I add: "You're a true friend, Adele" I lean towards her so only she can hear. "And I'll wait up for you tonight, if you'd like" Please come find me later, my love. We will find a way to keep you out of trouble, we'll meet the dawn if need be and forget our sorrows and the unpleasantness of this soirée in each other arms. To my surprise, Adele wraps her around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. It takes me a moment to process it but I've never felt closer to tears. Surrounded by the familiar warmth of her body. I know someone is probably, surely staring with a bit of curiosity and malice after the melodrama we offered for free tonight but I don't care. Not now. So I hug her back and give a quick gentle stroke to her cheek as I part. After one last lingering weak smile at her, I gesture Sabine that it's time for our retreat. With the last ounce of strength left in me to keep my act on, I wave diplomatically at the gossiping guests and take my leave, my little Napoleon in tow. The show's over, lads. The show's over...

[unicyclehippo]

Nothing that Mr. Dosal, however, with the assistance of his five children, could ask on the subject was sufficient to draw from his wife any satisfactory description of Mr. Widogast. They attacked her in various ways—with bare-faced questions, ingenious suppositions, and distant surmises, played hammeringly upon their instruments until she had to beg her leave, cornered her at mealtimes, affixed her with bright unblinking eyes. But none of this brought any satisfaction; she eluded the skill of them all, and so they were at last obliged to accept the second-hand intelligence of their neighbour, Lady Lucas. Her report on the newcomer painted him in many favourable ways; he was quite young, handsome after a delicate fashion, and rather agreeable. He had seemed, the only comment she saw to make to his detriment, entirely too thoughtful and interested in his books. This shortcoming was alleviated by the announcement that, to crown the whole, he meant to be at the next assembly with a large party. Nothing could be more delightful! To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love; and very lively hopes of Mr. Widogast’s heart were entertained.

‘If I can but see one of my children happily settled at Netherfield,’ said Mr. Dosal to his wife, ‘and all the others equally well married, I will have nothing left to wish for.’

‘Wouldn’t you be terribly bored, my love? To have no meddling left for entertainment?’

‘The rest of my life would be spent at your side,’ he said, in a dismissive comment that did not detract from the verity of the statement. It earned him a very pleasant embrace.

In a few days, Mr. Widogast returned Mrs. Lavorre’s visit and sat about ten minutes with her in her library. He seemed most intrigued by those books sat upon her shelf, and she was once more uncertain what to make of the man, and pulling little from their discussion that she might tell her children, though her husband would be certainly interested to hear of a man who Mrs. Lavorre could not dissect.

Mr. Widogast, if he had entertained hopes of being admitted to a sight of the children to Mrs. Lavorre, of whom he had much, showed no disappointment in being denied the pleasure, and only a well-practiced, though no less sincere, pleasure for having had shared the lady’s company for even so short a time.

The children were somewhat more fortunate than he, for they had the advantage of ascertaining from an upper window that he had flame-coloured hair, wore a blue coat, and rode a black horse.

An invitation to dinner was soon afterwards dispatched; and already had Mr. Dosal planned the courses when an answer arrived that deferred it all. Mr. Widogast was obliged to be in town the following day,

‘- and, consequently, unable to accept the honour of your invitation, et cetera.’

‘Did he really write et cetera, dad?’

‘He did,’ Mr. Dosal agreed, and folded up the fine letter once more, this being his third read of it.

Mr. Dosal was quite disconcerted. He took to wondering what business the man could have in town so soon after his arrival in Nicodranas; and he began to wonder if the man might forever be flying about from one place to another, and never settled at Netherfield as he ought to be. Lady Lucas quieted his fears a little by stating the business of his being gone to Rexxentrum only to get a large party for the ball; and a report soon followed that Mr. Widogast was to bring twelve ladies and twelve gentlemen with him to the assembly. The children grieved over such a number of potential combatants—Mrs. Lavorre scolded them for using the term instead of a less suitable yet more appropriate term, such as competition or suitors—but were comforted the day before the ball by hearing, that instead of twelve he brought only six with him from London—a handful of schooling friends, and his cousin. And when the party entered the assembly room, it consisted of only five atogether—Mr. Widogast, two close compatriots and what seemed to be their two husband and wife, and another young woman.

Mr. Widogast was, finally, seen to the Lavorre children. He was good-looking and gentleman-like; he had a fine, pleasant enough countenance, and very proper manners. His companions when introduced were both very fine individuals—school friends, with an air about them of supreme confidence, which Mr. Widogast did not quite share, and an air of intense focus, which Mr. Widogast did share. Mr. Thal—who owned a very handsome and stern countenance prone to breaking into a delightful smile unsuited to a man of his position—bore on his arm the hand of his own husband, a Mr. Hurst, who seemed very much a gentleman. Mr. Widogast’s friend, however, Ms. Lionette, soon drew the attention of the room by her fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien, and the report that was in general circulation within five minutes of her entrance, of her having ten thousand a year. The gentlemen pronounced her to be a fine individual, if stern and difficult to engage; the ladies declared she was much handsomer than Mr. Widogast, and she was looked at with great admiration for about half the evening, till her manners have a disgust which turned the tide of her popularity; for she was discovered to be proud, to be above her company, and above being pleased; and not all at her large estate in Kamordah could then save her from having a most forbidding, disagreeable countenance, and being unworthy to be compared with her friend.

Mr. Widogast had soon made himself acquainted with all the principal people in the room; he was, if not lively, at least engaged to dance turn after turn and when the ball closed he made comment that it had closed so early, which many took as disappointment. His friends spoke of giving a ball themselves at Netherfield; what a contrast there was between him and his friends, and the unpleasant Ms. Lionette! Ms. Lionette had danced only once with Mrs. Blumen, the short dark-haired wife, friend to Mr. Widogast, and then once with Miss Lavorre, de clinging to be introduced to any other lady, and she had spent the rest of the evening in walking about the room, speaking occasionally to Mr. Widogast or another in her own party. Her character was decided. She was the proudest, most disagreeable woman in the world, and everyone hoped that she would not come there again. Amongst the most violent against her was Mr. Dosal, whose dislike was sharpened into particular resentment by her having slighted one of his daughters.

Jester Lavorre has been obliged, by the scarcity of gentlemen, to sit down for two dances; and during part of that time, Ms. Lionette had been standing near enough for her to hear a conversation between her and Mr. Widogast, who came from the dance for a few minutes to press his friend to join it.

‘Come, Lionette,’ said he, ‘I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner-‘

‘What words, Mr. Widogast.’

‘- and if I am to dance, you had better dance.’

‘I certainly shall not. You know how I hate it, unless I am particularly acquaintanced with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be impossible.’ When the Mr. Widogast tried to make argument, she pressed on, ‘Your sister is engaged, your friends likewise partnered with their own escorts, and there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with.’

‘You are too fastidious,’ Mr. Widogast said then, in a quietened voice so as not to let the words said continue out to the ears of the woman that might be—and were—listening. ‘Upon my honour, I’ve never met with so many pleasant girls in my life,’

‘You’ve never met a girl before tonight.’

‘and there are some here that are uncommonly pretty.’

‘You are dancing with the only handsome creature in the room,’ said Ms. Lionette, looking to the eldest Mister Lavorre.

‘Oh, he is the the most beautiful person I have ever beheld,’ Mr. Widogast admitted then, with a rise of colour to his cheeks, and it is explanation enough for the number of dances the man had partook in that night, despite his having been so ill-accustomed to the dances when they had begun. ‘But there is one of his sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.’

‘Which do you mean?’ and turning, she looked for a moment at Jester, til catching her eye had withdrawn her own and coldly said, ‘She is tolerable, but not enough to tempt me; I am in no humour to give attention to young ladies who feel slighted by the men. Better you return to your partner and enjoy his smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.’

[becausenoothernameisavailable]

To tame a Rake.

Prompt: Historical AU Pick a time period and put our boys and girls into that era. Maybe you’d like to see them in the 1600s, maybe early civilization, maybe even just put them back in the 1980s. Either way, send ‘em backwards!

Set in Regency time, picks up from the existing Regency Au.

That man is a rake, thought Julian, Lord Larson of the House Armstrong as he watched John Logan Wright III, The current Earl of Ashford make his way into the ballroom, dressed in all black from head to toe, his stark white silk shirt the only contrast offered. He was accompanied by his best friend Derek Seigerson, Lord Cynster and together the two of them were the most eligible men in the ton.

All noble ladies, the fresh crop of debutantes and demi - mondes all had their eyes on them. However, one of them would soon be off the market. Lord Cynster would be married soon to his intended Lady Casey soon to be Lady Cynster and then there would be the only one left and Julian knew his secret.

He watched them enter the ballroom and scan the area with their steely eyes and Julian tracked his mother, Lady Larson of the House Armstrong as she hurried up towards them. He sighed and left the wall against which he was leaning. Maybe he should go join her to considering the ball was in the honour of the return of Lord Larson of the House Armstrong from America, which was basically him.

*

“Your Grace.” Logan bowed in front of Lady Larson and kissed the offered hand as his friend Derek nodded next to him. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“Ashford. Cynster.”

This was the reason he wanted to attend the ball, the only reason. That man and his expressive eyes and kissable mouth, the kiss they shared the last time they met still remained with him and Logan wanted more. But Julian - Lord Larson was proving hard to get.

Every night they met and danced in the shadows, away from everyone and their prying eyes, only Derek knew and guarded their secret. A fleeting smile, a passing touch was all they could do in the light surrounded by everyone. It was not deemed acceptable though it wasn’t common Logan came to learn from the snatches of whispers and he knew he didn’t want to suffer the same fate.

But, privately, in the dark he had Julian moaning deeply next him as Logan kissed his neck, void of the necktie and fine jacket, hair disarrayed and shirt lose and open. “More.” Julian kissed his neck, slowly sucking in, laving the skin. “I want more. I want everything.”

But every time they kept getting interrupted with some passing lady and her paramour and then Julian was off and away in the wink of an eye and by the time Logan had suitably arranged himself, deemed himself respectable to appear back in public Julian had gone, claiming sickness or another event.

“Armstrong.” Logan smirked and shook the offered hand and passing in a gentle caress as he let it go and Julian gulped. Derek smirked next them and grinned his answering nod. “Let forgets the titles shall we, we are all equals here.” and Logan nodded.

“Where were you.” He hissed immediately when Lady Armstrong left them. “I waited.”

“Later.” Julian hissed when they passed by the Ton’s gossip Lady Hennessey, and then in a much a louder voice, “Shall we make it to the library gentlemen.

The minute the three of them reached the corridor of the library, Logan immediately pulled Julian to him and kissed him deeply.

“Lo.” Julian breathed when their lips parted. Derek sighed at his best friend and the love of his life, “I suppose I should be guarding then.”

Julian nodded gratefully at him as Logan opened the door of the empty library and pulled him, “Thank you.”

“I was detained.” Julian whimpered the minute the door was shut behind him as Logan attacked his lips kissing his way down his throat, loosening the Half Windsor knot that kept Logan away from his throat.

Julian leaned into the touch and breathed Logan in, his arms’ moving around his back, pulling him towards him. He moved slowly against Logan’s kisses as his fingers nimbly unravelled his tie letting the two ends settle on either side of his neck.

“Gently.” He whispered capturing Logan’s lips in his, his hands guiding Logan’s down to his waist. “We have been noticed. All the scheming ladies have begun to notice that the three of us are disappearing together.”

“So what,” Logan growled Logan as he began to unbutton Julian’s shirt, kissing his skin as it slowly got exposed; a kiss to his neck, his collar bone. “It’s normal for men who are not thinking of marriage to not hang around too long during the ball. It’s how Derek told everyone that he was interested in Casey. He showed up everywhere she went.”

He kissed his way down Julian’s toned abs and stomach, to finally kiss the smooth skin above the fine pleated dark breeches. “Now be very quiet in case you really want everyone to know what we get up to when we disappear.”

"Absolutely," Julian breathed out when felt a warm tongue swirl around the head of his cock. He groaned quietly, fingers curling amongst Logan’s locks and Logan hummed contentedly, taking him into his mouth, bobbing his head a little, smooth and practised.

The air was filled with their rapid breathing and wet, filthy sound of Logan's lips around Julian’s cock, slick and hot. Julian bit his lip, looking down at Logan as he bobbed his head pleasuring him, feeling a sharp thrill of pleasure at the sight in front of him, The Earl of Ashford on his knees with Julian’s dick in his mouth. He looked at Logan’s half-lidded eyes, strong neck and shoulders, still encased in clothes while Logan had him dishevelled, coat on the floor, shirt open, tie undone and he moaned quietly. He was growing to love him in the short time he knew him and he wanted forever.

“I really did miss you,” Logan whispered as flicked his tongue over the tip, his eyes searching for Julian’s.  “Me too,” Julian whispered.

*

“So,” Derek grunted from where he was resting against the large ornate flower pedestal that framed either side library doors. “I take it everything is clear then. Shed some light over the situation.”

Logan glanced at Julian who was righting his clothes, frowning at his crumpled tie as he tried to tie back the half Windsor and Logan smiled at him. “Yeah, things are clearer.” and nudged Julian’s hands away and redid his tie for him and Julian smiled.

“Until next time, My Lord,” Logan whispered as he picked up Julian’s hand and placed a kiss on his knuckles and Julian blushed and nodded. He looked at Derek who was grinning at them, still leaning against the flower pedestal and frowned. “Thank you for today Cynster but your services are no longer needed.”

Derek chuckled and nodded and together the three of them arranged themselves to the high standards of perfection as required by the lords of the ton and walked back out into the ball as if nothing had happened.

Extra Scene.

He was going to die a slow death and it would be the fault of Lord Larson of the House Armstrong who had decided to show up in his new riding coat for their morning stroll in the park. “What do you think.” Julian whispered when met Logan, “I quite like it. Thought it would be a bit of change from the usual.”

“It looks good.” Logan gulped as he took in Julian in the pale grey coat and matching hat, cut perfectly to highlight his trim body; tapering at his waist, flaring out gently at his hips, drawing the eyes down to his strong legs encased in black breeches and black shinny hessian boots of the highest quality.

He grinned when he found Julian smirking at him. Two can play this game.

[everlasting-gospel]

New Post has been published on Present Truth

New Post has been published on https://presenttruth.info/fear-not-coronavirus-precautions/

Fear Not! Coronavirus Precautions!

“Grace be with you, mercy, and peace, from God the Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of the Father, in truth and love” (2 John 3).

I pray that you are doing well despite the perilous times in which we are living.

I am a first responder with our volunteer fire department. I just wanted to share a few things with you about the caronavirus that were shared with our department.

First of all, Thus saith the Lord, “Fear not!” This phrase is found 63 times in the Bible.

“Fear not, little flock; for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom” (Luke 12:32).

“Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment? Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature? And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith? Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof” (Matthew 6:25-34).

“And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell” (Matthew 10:28).

“He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust. Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler. Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day; Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday. A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee. Only with thine eyes shalt thou behold and see the reward of the wicked. Because thou hast made the LORD, which is my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation; There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling. For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone. Thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder: the young lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under feet. Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him: I will set him on high, because he hath known my name. He shall call upon me, and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honour him. With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation” (Psalms 91:1-16).

“No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper; and every tongue that shall rise against thee in judgment thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the LORD, and their righteousness is of me, saith the LORD” (Isaiah 54:17).

“But now thus saith the LORD that created thee, O Jacob, and he that formed thee, O Israel, Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine. When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee” (Isaiah 43:1, 2).

“Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness” (Isaiah 41:10).

For a study on trusting the Lord for everything, please read the following article.

The Faith of the Son of God – Jun-Jul 2018

Paul exclaimed, “I live by the faith of the Son of God” (Galatians 2:20). Wait a minute, I know we are to “…walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7), but Paul talks about “the faith of” God’s Son, not his own faith. …Read More

Some Precautions

1) Wash your hands often. Hands are the number one carrier of germs and viruses.

2) Avoid touching your mouth, nose, and eyes.

3) Drink lots of water. The caronavirus first attaches in your throat, and cannot survive well in warm temperatures. It can be washed down to the stomach by warm water where it will be killed by your stomach acid. If you have a sore throat gargle with warm salt water, and drink lots of water.

4) Monitor yourself and others with a thermometer, preferably one that does not need to touch the patient.

5) Stay at least six feet away from anyone who has symptoms of caronavirus without protection. Protection will include gloves, mask, eye protection, and a gown. Even with these precautions, limit all contact, and carefully remove and dispose of the protection, then wash your clothes, shower, and change into clean clothes. Spray the bottom of your shoes with a disinfectant like Lysol, before entering your vehicle or house after you have been exposed to coronavirus.

According to the CDC Website here are some things you should watch for.

Watch for symptoms Reported illnesses have ranged from mild symptoms to severe illness and death for confirmed coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) cases. The following symptoms may appear 2-14 days after exposure.*

Fever

Cough

Shortness of breath

*This is based on what has been seen previously as the incubation period of MERS-CoV viruses.

If you develop emergency warning signs for COVID-19 get medical attention immediately. Emergency warning signs include*:

Difficulty breathing or shortness of breath

Persistent pain or pressure in the chest

New confusion or inability to arouse

Bluish lips or face

*This list is not all inclusive. Please consult your medical provider for any other symptoms that are severe or concerning.

If you suspect someone to be a carrier of the caronavirus, they will probably not be transported to the hospital unless they have emergency warning signs.

Currently, President Trump is requesting that you avoid gatherings of more than ten people, and avoid unnecessary travel.

I am not giving you everything you need to know about this, so check your trusted news sources for more information.

The best preparation you can make is to draw near to God. “Draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh to you. Cleanse your hands, ye sinners; and purify your hearts, ye double minded” (James 4:8).

There are a lot of promises of protection in the Bible for us, claim them and believe them for you and your family. If there is known sin in your life, ask God to remove it, then ask Him to reveal more light. Watch and pray is the instruction Jesus gave His disciples before their faith was severely tried.

As students of the Bible we should not be surprised by things like this. There are a lot of potential events behind the scenes that might explain why this is going on right now. The bottom line is, Satan is behind it all.

“…Woe to the inhabiters of the earth and of the sea! for the devil is come down unto you, having great wrath, because he knoweth that he hath but a short time” (Revelation 12:12).

The final conflict will be over worship. Read Revelation 13. God’s Ten Commandments are split into two sections, 1-4 deal with worship to God, 5-10 deal with how we treat people. The primary commandments that will be involved in this final conflict revolve around commandments 1 and 4.

On February 18, 1890 there was a Breckenridge Sunday Bill presented to the House of Representatives in the United States. Here is a portion of what this bill entailed.

“Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress assembled, That it shall be unlawful for any person or corporation, or employee of any person or corporation in the District of Columbia, to perform any secular labor or business, or to cause the same to be performed by any person in their employment on Sunday, except works of necessity or mercy; nor shall it be lawful for any person or corporation to receive pay for labor or services performed or rendered in violation of this act…”

JO Corliss testified before the house in opposition to this bill saying,

“…In this connection let me say, gentlemen, that the District of Columbia has just the same kind of a Sunday law as that of Ohio. This law of the District of Columbia was in force when this book was issued which I hold in my hand, which was April 1, 1868; and I am told that this law (which I will read) was re-enacted in 1874. I now quote from the law. Section 1 provides that- ‘If any person shall DENY THE TRINITY, he shall, for the first offense, be bored through the tongue, and fined twenty pounds; … and for the second offense, the offender being thereof convict as aforesaid, shall be stigmatized by burning on the forehead with the letter B, and fined forty pounds; and for the third offense, the offender being thereof convict as aforesaid, shall suffer death, without the benefit of the clergy.’ Section 10 of the same law has this:- ‘No person whatever shall do any bodily labor on the Lord’s day, commonly called Sunday …’ Now, gentlemen, that law has never been repealed.” (Arguments on the Breckinridge Sunday Bill, by AT Jones, pages 3,13).

Friends, we are living in perilous times. The Lord is coming soon. The final crisis will be over worship, and the two primary aspects that will be brought to law will cause people to violate God’s Ten Commandment Laws on the true God we worship, and the day on which we worship. How those will be brought to play in forbidding people to buy or sell unless they violate these Laws is yet to be seen. But pay attention, friends, it is coming. Make sure you know who you worship, and worship Him in Spirit and in Truth, and worship Him in part by resting “the Sabbath day according to the Commandment” (Luke 23:56).

Please read these booklets: God’s Love on Trial, National ID and the Mark of the Beast, and The Mark of the Beast.

Farewell my Brothers and Sisters. God bless you and keep you.

“For this cause I bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, Of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named, That he would grant you, according to the riches of his glory, to be strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner man; That Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith; that ye, being rooted and grounded in love, May be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height; And to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, that ye might be filled with all the fulness of God. Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us, Unto him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end. Amen” (Ephesians 3:14-21).

In Christian Love, Your Brother in Christ, Lynnford Beachy

[snughuz]

William’s speech at the Pakistan Monument

William's

speech in full

:

'Ladies and gentlemen, it is our great pleasure to join you here this evening on our first official visit to Pakistan. Already, Catherine and I have been honoured by the hospitality you have shown us, and we have certainly managed to make our way through a record breaking amount of food so generously offered by our hosts. I would like to begin by saying bahut shukriya to you all for making us so welcome in your country. Stood here with this magnificent monument behind me, I am struck by the great strides Pakistan has made since its birth seventy-two years ago. The view from this hill would have been quite different when my grandmother, The Queen, first visited over half a century ago. Looking out, one would have seen the beginnings of a city under construction, yet to become the great capital that it is today.

And with successive visits by my mother and my father, this view has continued to change, with the city constantly growing and with it my family's affection for Pakistan.

This is the world's sixth largest country by population. It has an unbelievably diverse geography that spans deserts to glaciers and everything in between. It is the birth place of the youngest ever Nobel peace prize winner. And I am told that it hosts not just the second highest mountain in the world, but also its highest cash machine!

It is also home to one of the youngest populations in the world, with an average age of just 24 – almost half that of the UK.

In a public school not far from where we gather this evening, Catherine and I saw young children learning and playing, aided by an inspiring teacher, trained through the Teach for Pakistan programme. We spoke with ambitious young women finishing their schooling and planning for university and work. As Muhammed Ali Jinnah said, 'No struggle can ever succeed without women participating side by side with men'.

It was good to hear from President Alvi and Prime Minster Khan, earlier today that education will continue to be an important priority for Pakistan. We also saw the brilliant work taking place in the Margalla Hills, where young children were being taught the importance of protecting and caring for the world around them.

The education of Pakistan's next generation will be the key that turns the country's growing population into an engine of growth and helps unlock this country's enormous potential. A rapidly growing population presents you with an enormous opportunity, but also significant challenge.

The UK and Pakistan share unique bonds and so it will always be in our best interests for you to succeed. Not least because of the 1.5 million people living in the UK with Pakistani origin and the fact that the UK is one of the biggest investors in your economy.

You can rely on us to keep playing an important role as a key partner and your friend. Delivering a future where Pakistan's great potential can be realised will not be easy or without sacrifice. For a country so young, Pakistan has endured many hardships, with countless lives lost to terror and hatred. Tonight I want to pay tribute to all those who have endured such sacrifice and helped to build the country that we see today.

Whether in Pakistan or the UK or elsewhere on our planet, we face shared global challenges. The effects of climate change threaten the present and the future, and therefore demand a concerted effort by everyone.

In Pakistan, your spectacular glaciers – and those of the wider Hindu Kush-Himalaya region – serve as a critical water store for a quarter of a billion people; and over 1.6 billion people rely on the great rivers that flow from the mountains in this part of the world.

Yet, because the effects of global warming at altitude, a one and a half degree Celsius temperature increase overall could mean warming of over two degrees Celsius for northern Pakistan's highest mountains. This could lead to a loss of over a third of these vital glaciers in less than a century, with enormous impacts not only on the availability of water, but on agriculture and hydropower generation.

Tomorrow we will be seeing some of these impacts first hand and meeting some of the communities adjusting to the new realities and new challenges that climate change has brought to their towns and villages. I hope to learn what more we all can do to help prevent and mitigate this impending global catastrophe.

Ladies and gentlemen, given the scale and complexities of the challenges that future generations will face, it is clear that we all need to work together. And whether it's this generation or the next, I know that the UK and Pakistan will continue to exemplify the very best in international cooperation.

Yes, the challenges ahead are great. But we cannot be daunted, nor distracted. Instead we should draw strength from our shared bonds and heed the words of Muhammed Ali Jinnah as we do so, 'My message to you all' he said 'is of hope, courage, and confidence'. 

[libidomechanica]

Does through anger, stroke the temporary

An air and the dark with  nought or sad eyes all things not proud Achilles, where  the Victor of creature, wherewith  blis. Plain—simple—short, that you and limits  old words out of th everlasting, put 

him an wrack him well: but if that  vow, or as a world) another perish  no less would scar Sighing shame, thats in her strange  and charming me also his hearing bright, in  small or galleries past, as for  thee. And sad-sighing some fly, and honour three  partake, but till I confesse, that feares a  hope for which many a Jew; both the  gay roses and, Loue, I thought vnsownd, who for  men the laws or stains doth of  air— Romes ghosts cald vp with clay.  The bed she answer, nor last away.  vpon the old words, beset with friendship  should have give me, Pardon my faint or  two stare, Our eyes and hour. I  climb Aornus, and lackeys usher my leaping, and  fair as she heart draws thine ear, as he  ought like Loves blood, which the grimace by the  matter her, whom I must they missed, embrace  which yourselves to show his  head was reckond none puts by the  hay, woods may ache in its in curiously.  A rich may pierced through to ease me; 

carelesse of the way, she be shore,  that create mischief to be sycophants.  Or as the credit of  wild roe bound up again soundless my name  is lies but ashes sat he had fixd them  till. Me free. Out of circumcisions, all the  other lights, especially aught  forgotten? I found about a heavy  tufts of joy the standing on his  heat and thereto; Honour and close 

between the wait thee to tutors,  queenly beams mockery to the  knights and cooks in furrows given, and  done its crisis? That other good, in  holy fire, and strawberry do stir;  Would not see thee, I adore, I heard, which lent my  heart died streight arisen again, or moths  shall white and he added with  fragrant your eccho ring. and I seem: so  that and I could have and shaken but wise  Minervaes paths so debonair, which I spoke:  as I have seen Joanna Southeys gander. I  have given to cross to bride,  my necktie riches more we touch it growes  neere the dead, the gentlemen  in his wisdom or coachman this  come, my sunflowery honour moan and still  all forbid thee feet, and her leaves with  carven glooms of decorated  without lifes loved— the one  seemd it will lay, when Cyril  pleasures of haggard seeming note do sing, the  while to pass that every  year, (for so is best; with  the other give something ’“gainst the red  rose, And, like my restored their loved with  time for me, to be; surely in  cruell Deaths cold. with golden brow and  they follow: am an aged thorow  all you through there,” as wonderd the shall in  time, to begin that by thy deeds must  proper time for one day was  an ass, and twilight wi mony a flake,  and Pegasus hath masters of every 

way. Sweet Love his flight. Epithalamion?

[dowagerintraining]

Fanfiction: The Auction (Tomb Raider/Uncharted/Indiana Jones)

At a a private auction of the goods pertaining to the estate of Mr Henry Williams, son of the late Dr Henry Walton Jones (Indiana to his friends), Nathan Drake and Victor Sullivan make a new acquaintance, Lady Lara Croft, who is wearing a striking and eye catching piece of jewellery...

“Feels kinda strange to be attending one of these fancy affairs with an actual invitation.”

Victor tugged uncomfortably at his unaccustomed necktie, as his hair stuck to the back of his neck, a trickle of sweat leaked uncomfortably beneath his colour down his back.

Nate, however, wore his suit well. A little older, a little more filled out perhaps, but with a gloss and polish that only some years as a respectable businessman had been able to bestow. He still drew admiring looks from many of the women thronging around the event, but unlike ten years ago, he barely noticed. Contentment and relative prosperity suited him as well as a few years of not being shot at or dangled from clifftops.

“Yeah, well … just keep hoping that nobody takes too close of a look at yours.”

“But you said you were…”

“Yeah, I was invited. You were … kind of an unofficial plus one.”

Nate’s grin was infectious. For a second, Victor couldn’t decide whether he was joking or not. Once he laughed, Victor knew for sure.

“Nate! Seriously, you should know better than to mess with the stress levels of an old man like me.”

“Ptff … old man. Yeah right. If you want to know what an old man in our line or work looks like, take a look at this guy…”

The portrait, one of the lots on offer at the exclusive and invitation only auction, was impressive. An oil painting, one that should have hung in an academic’s office at a prestigious university. Nate reminded himself that it had done just that, for some years, at Marshall College. The subject was sedate but luxurious in colour palette, wearing a rich brown and green tweed jacket and trousers, neat polished shoes, horn rimmed glasses, his grey hair neatly barbered, a hand resting on a leather book set to one side, with a tantalizing pile of notes, covered in sigils…

“Yeah, he was something alright. How did you find out about this event anyway, Nate? I thought you were out of this game now...”

“Contacts, Sully. Contacts. There are some names that just can’t be ignored.”

Nate glanced at the unassuming invitation he carried, to the private auction of the personal effects of the late Mr Henry Williams, proprietor of Williams and Sons Automobile Services. Nothing to suggest he had been anything special during his lifetime. But the watermark, hologrammed logo and microchip hidden in the ticket’s thick paper betrayed this first impression of banality. As did the slick suited security guards who hovered around every entrance and exit.

For anyone with an interest in archaeology, antiquities or any form of treasure, this was definitely the hottest ticket in town. Not because of Mr Henry Williams, himself, but because he had been the sole beneficiary of his father’s estate. The late Doctor Henry Walton Jones of Mashall College, Conneticut. Indiana to his friends, and at twenty five years deceased still the keeper of some of the most speculated upon secrets in the field of Ancient History.

“Quite magnificent, wasn’t he…”

The cool, assured, feminine voice behind them made both Victor and Nate jump. As they turned to the sound of a throaty, female giggle, it was only years of practice that prevented their jaws from dropping.

Tall, willowy, wearing an exquisitely cut white dress with killer heels, long white gloves and a white broad brimmed hat, their new companion could have stepped from the pages of any glossy magazine. She removed her sun glasses, revealing eyes that were dark and wicked; intelligence sparkled among the smokey makeup. Her sleek smile hinted at a filthy sense of humour. A few dark tendrils of curling hair deliberately escaped from beneath the brim of the hat, which alone surely cost more than Nathan Drake’s honest annual income.

“Absolutely, they broke the mold with him,” Victor recovered that fraction of a second faster than Nate, extending his hand smoothly. “Victor Sullivan. And this is my business associate, Nathan Drake, miss…?”

“Croft. Lady Croft.” The hand that shook Victor’s in return might have seemed delicate and feminine, but there were muscles of steel and unexpected callouses apparent beneath the thin gloves. “Lara.”

“A pleasure to meet you Lady Croft. Lara.”

Nate finally recovered his powers of speech having sternly reminded his hind brain that he was a Happily Married Man, with a wife who was blessed with both mind reading powers and the ability to break him with her little finger.

“Speaking of magnificent, that’s a beautiful necklace, Lady Croft…”

Lara’s hand strayed to the pendant which hung artlessly around her slender throat. Heavy, golden, the size of an old sovereign, it was intricately carved, the design resembling an old compass.

“Oh this? Something I picked up on my last trip to Peru.”

“Travel a lot, do you?”

“Oh here and there … South America, the Caribbean, South East Asia… wherever business takes me.”

“Business, eh? Well, perhaps our paths will cross again on a future business trip.”

Her eyes lightened, sparkled with interest.

“Perhaps they will, Mr Drake. Perhaps they will, “ she replacing her dark glasses. “Until then…”

Nathan and Victor couldn’t quite help themselves watch her walk away through the crowd, the sway of her hips was hypnotic. Once she vanished from view, Nate give himself a little shake. Happily Married Man, she thought to himself firmly and smiled inwardly at the thought of picking up Elena at the airport later.

The ever single Victor had no such need for self control. He whistled softly to himself. “Man … I tell ya Nate, it I was 30 years younger…”

“... You’d still have no chance, Sully. So stop the day dreaming and let’s get back to business. Did you see what she was wearing?”

“Oh yes … sharp of you to spot it, not so sharp to draw attention to it! Show off. That will be back in her handbag in no time.”

“Business Trip to Peru my ass, that must have taken years of work to unearth...”

“And now she’s here hunting for the matching set.”

Nate pulled out his pocket book and turned to the page which showed a sketch of the jewellery Lara had been wearing. The next page showed a set of earrings with similar markings, with a whole set of notes scribbled around the notches on the outside. In the glossy catalogue, lot number 428 featured photograph of a remarkably similar set, a gift from Dr Jones to his late wife, Marion Jones, on the occasion of their thirtieth wedding anniversary.

“If we’re bidding against her, we’re out of luck. She could buy and sell the whole catalogue for pocket money.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re only bidding for fun.”

The two men smiled at each other. It was good to be back in business together again.

“Ladies, gentlemen, honoured guests, please take your seats, so that the auction can commence…”

“C’mon Sully. Let’s go see if we can get seats with a good view.”

“Of the pieces? Or your new lady friend?”

“Both…”

[lgbtqiahistoricalromance]

LGBTQIA Historical Romances with Artists, Poets, Thespians, Musicians, Dancers, and Bohemians - July 2018

Jalendu by Mark Andrew

- Set in the turbulent twilight of the reign of the Mughal Emperor of India, Jalaluddin Akbar, Jalendu tell the story of the socially awkward, but politically important young Prince Adinath and Jali, a handsome, spiritually inclined farm boy who becomes his bodyguard. Their unlikely friendship and love changes the fate of the empire. The small kingdom of Vindhyagarh sits in the Vindhya foothills between Prince Salim, the rebellious son of the emperor and self-declared Sultan of Ilahabad (present day Allahabad) and his powerful Bundela Rajput ally, Maharaja Vir Singh Deo of Orchha. But Salim in truth is no rebel. He is loyal to the power behind the throne, the women of the imperial household. The court nobility, led by the emperor's vizier Abul Fazl, see their power evaporating as the emperor seems powerless to oppose the wishes of the empresses or to act against his disobedient eldest son. They fear that when Salim become emperor, they will be reduced to mere servants. Abul Fazl vows that Salim will never sit on the imperial throne. Rana Jayaram of Vindhyagarh wants peace, but his efforts to ensure it draw his kingdom into a very dangerous political game. His youngest son has rarely left the palace because of illness and spends his time reading ancient Sanskrit texts, drawing and composing poetry. His only friends are his brother's widow and his old tutor. Jayaram sees a chance to extract his kingdom from danger by an alliance with the influential Kachwahas. An alliance by the marriage of Prince Adinath to a Kachwaha princess would not only tie Vindhyagarh to a Rajput house more loyal to the empire but into the imperial family itself.

On Wings of Song by Anne Barwell

- Six years after meeting British soldier Aiden Foster during the Christmas Truce of 1914, Jochen Weber still finds himself thinking about Aiden, their shared conversation about literature, and Aiden’s beautiful singing voice. A visit to London gives Jochen the opportunity to search for Aiden, but he’s shocked at what he finds.The uniform button Jochen gave him is the only thing Aiden has left of the past he’s lost. The war and its aftermath ripped everything away from him, including his family and his music. When Jochen reappears in his life, Aiden enjoys their growing friendship but knows he has nothing to offer. Not anymore.

The Reluctant Berserker by Alex Beecroft Review (Gorgeous writing, and an unusual case of a dominant musician and a submissive warrior.)

- Dark Ages England. Among the Saxons, a warrior is the highest form of human life. He dominates all, he yields to none, and if ever this mastery is taken away, his honour is taken with it. Reluctant berserker, Wulfstan, a noble and fearsome warrior, has spent most of his life trying to hide the fact that he would love to be cherished and taken care of by someone stronger than himself. Slight and beautiful harper, Leofgar, has the opposite problem – how can he keep the trained killers off him long enough to get them to acknowledge he’s as much of a man as any of them? When, in a panic, Wulfstan accidentally kills a friend who is about to blurt out his secret, and Leofgar flees rather than submit to his lord’s lust, they meet on the road to the pilgrims’ shrine at Ely. Pursued by a mother’s curse and Leofgar’s vengeful lord, they must battle guilt, outlaws, and the powers of the underworld with the aid of only music and a female saint. And if they fall in love on the way, there’s still that murderous shame to overcome.

Treading the Boards series by Tess Bowery (author’s Tumblr)

Rite of Summer: Gay men in a disaster!triad. Sex solves a lot of things, but actually talking about problems solves more. Not a poly ending.

She Whom I Love: Bisexual best friends share a very confused (yet grateful) straight man. Disaster is narrowly averted. A very poly ending.*

*Shortlisted twice for the Bisexual Book Awards, 2015 - Best Romance, Best Erotic Fiction.

That Potent Alchemy: Genderqueer ballet dancer hates gender, ballet, and emotional connection. Macbeth helps. No poly in this one at all.

Artemis by Jessica Cale (trans male hero/bisexual heroine)

- Actress Charlotte Halfpenny is in trouble. Pregnant, abandoned by her lover, and out of a job, Charlotte faces eviction two weeks before Christmas. When the reclusive Earl of Somerton makes her an outrageous offer, she has no choice but to accept. Could he be the man of her dreams, or is the nightmare just beginning?

Apollo Somerton has been in love with Charlotte for a decade, seeing each of her plays multiple times, despite being a man that otherwise keeps to himself. After Charlotte finds herself pregnant, she almost resorts to drastic measures, but Somerton rescuers her and makes her an offer she can’t refuse. But, despite his adoration and beauty, Charlotte knows being an actress didn’t prepare her for the role of wife to an Earl, and others will stop at nothing to keep the pair from getting married.

This is a sweet novella, with a frankly adorable leading man. Handsome and devoted, he has a secret, but love with persevere. Some aspects of the novella are a little far-fetched, but the love story makes it totally worthwhile. (Contains mentions of period-typical homophobia and transphobia. Trans male leading man, and bisexual heroine.)

25% proceeds donated to Equality NC, and 25% to the Malala fund

Think of England by KJ Charles Mini Review

- Lie back and think of England... England, 1904. Two years ago, Captain Archie Curtis lost his friends, fingers, and future to a terrible military accident. Alone, purposeless and angry, Curtis is determined to discover if he and his comrades were the victims of fate, or of sabotage. Curtis's search takes him to an isolated, ultra-modern country house, where he meets and instantly clashes with fellow guest Daniel da Silva. Effete, decadent, foreign, and all-too-obviously queer, the sophisticated poet is everything the straightforward British officer fears and distrusts. As events unfold, Curtis realizes that Daniel has his own secret intentions. And there's something else they share-a mounting sexual tension that leaves Curtis reeling. As the house party's elegant facade cracks to reveal treachery, blackmail and murder, Curtis finds himself needing clever, dark-eyed Daniel as he has never needed a man before... Warning: Contains explicit male/male encounters, ghastly historical attitudes, and some extremely stiff upper lips.

The Actor and the Earl by Rebecca Cohen (Three book series, w/Sebastian playing his own twin sister in all three.)

- Elizabethan actor Sebastian Hewel takes his bow at the proscenium only to embark on the role of a lifetime. When his twin sister, Bronwyn, reneges on the arrangement to marry Anthony Redbourn, Earl of Crofton, Sebastian reluctantly takes her place. At nineteen, Sebastian knows his days as a leading lady are numbered, but with this last performance, he hopes to restore his family’s name and pay off his late father’s debts. Never mind the danger of losing his head should he be discovered.He didn’t expect Anthony to be so charming and alluring—not to mention shrewd. While he applauds Sebastian’s plan, Anthony offers a mutually beneficial arrangement instead. Sebastian will need every drop of talent he has to survive with both his head and his heart intact, because this is the best part he’s ever had.

You Must Remember This: A Gay Retelling of Casablanca by John Michael Curlovich

- You Must Remember This is an homage to the classic film Casablanca on the 75th anniversary of the film’s release in America. It is the height of World War II. Frank Chandler is an American GI who has been separated from the army on a “blue discharge.” Along with his musician friend and sometime lover Dan Jackson, he finds himself in Marrakesh (only a short distance away from Casablanca), an international city where every kind of pleasure is easily available. But Marrakesh is also a city of danger. The Nazis are establishing themselves there, and their ominous presence means life is fraught with peril. Then Lilli, a beautiful, mysterious woman from Frank’s past, shows up unexpectedly, and he finds himself confronted with the hardest choice of his life. Lilli’s presence stirs emotions he thought he had buried. Yet there is still the city—and its men—and the thousand pleasures it offers… Should Frank go with Lilli and try to make a “normal” life with her? Or should he follow what he increasingly believes to be his true nature? That is the dramatic conflict at the heart of You Must Remember This.

My Lord, Lady, and Gentleman - Book Three of the Surrey SFS series by Nicola Davidson (m/m/f)

- Welcome to the Surrey Sexual Freedom Society - where unconventional and uninhibited ladies and gentlemen discuss all matters erotic... Estranged from his aristocratic family for choosing art over a third son’s proper path, Mr. Clayton Irving lives in wretched circumstances. His only joys are his friends and an extraordinary talent for sensual portraits, until the perfect opportunity arises: paint ton empress Lady Susanna Fenton. All his financial woes gone…if he can hide his fierce craving for her—and even more forbidden—her husband Lord Joseph Fenton.

In the eyes of the world the Fentons have it all: staggering wealth, position, and a caring union. Yet their smiles hide a marriage broken by secrets and pretense. The wicked portrait is a last effort to save it, and Susanna and Joseph soon discover that sinfully handsome Clayton is key to a passionate and happy new start for them all. But secrets always reveal themselves, and those who break the rules are punished. Can an unconventional ménage truly defy all for love?

The Bohemian and the Banker by Bonnie Dee and Summer Devon

- A night lost in Paris finds two hearts changed forever. Sent to Paris on business, Nigel Warren doesn’t quite understand why his colleagues’ eyes twinkle as they tell him to meet them at a local night spot. When he discovers it’s a drag cabaret and his acquaintances aren’t there, he realizes he’s the butt of a joke. Yet he finds himself quite undone by a singer dressed in an elegant gown, crooning a spellbinding ballad. It’s not unusual for Jay, a former Londoner, to bring a new “friend” home from the cabaret, but he’s never had a guest quite like Nigel, whose straitlaced manner hides an unexpected passionate streak. One romantic night on a rooftop under starry skies, followed by an afternoon enjoying the excitement of the 1901 Paris Exposition, bonds these opposites in a way neither can forget—even after they part. Their spark reignites when Jay comes to London, but he’s not sure he can go back to hiding his true self, not even for the sake of love…unless Nigel is willing to shed his cloak of staid respectability and take a leap of faith.

Robby Riverton: Mail Order Bride by Eli Easton

- Being a fugitive in the old west shouldn’t be this much fun. The year is 1860. Robby Riverton is a rising star on the New York stage. But he witnesses a murder by a famous crime boss and is forced to go on the run--all the way to Santa Fe. When he still hasn't ditched his pursuers, he disguises himself as a mail order bride he meets on the wagon train. Caught between gangsters that want to kill him, and the crazy, uncouth family of his "intended", Robby's only ally is a lazy sheriff who sees exactly who Robby is -- and can't resist him. Trace Crabtree took the job as sheriff of Flat Bottom because there was never a thing going on. And then Robby Riverton showed up. Disguised as a woman. And betrothed to Trace’s brother. If that wasn’t complication enough, Trace had to find the man as appealing as blueberry pie. He urges Robby to stay undercover until the danger has passed. But a few weeks of having Robby-Rowena at the ranch, and the Crabtree family will never be the same again. Damn, what a kerfuffle. If only Trace can get rid of the fugitive while hanging on to his own stupid heart.

A Brush with Darkness by Erastes

- Florence, 1875 After making a grisly discovery one night, I needed proof that there was still goodness in the world. I never dreamt it would come to me during my next commission—with a subject whose very name means light... Yuri was glorious in his otherworldly beauty, surrounded by a bright halo of iridescence, but I detected a fierce darkness lurking underneath the surface. Sketching all night, I could hardly wait to capture his likeness in a painting. For Yuri has stimulated not only my creative urges, but my sexual ones as well. His very presence infuses me with joy and passion, but what will happen if my patron should discover our trysts? Dependent on his good graces, I can't afford to lose his support. But I fear the time will soon come when I must choose between restoring my family's fortunes and obeying the temptation of the muse before me... Previously published as Chiaroscuro, newly revised by author.

The Matinee Idol by Owen Keehnen

- LOVE IN THE SILENT FILM ERA... At the height of the roaring 1920s, Raymond Richmond leaves Iowa and heads for Hollywood with dreams of silent film stardom in his head. In Los Angeles, he meets Brick, the ruggedly handsome cowboy of his dreams. Soon the two are a couple. When Raymond film career takes off, he is pressured to choose between stardom and Brick. Afraid of passing up his dream, Raymond chooses his career. As Raymond’s star ascends, he attempts to fill the void Brick has left in a number of ways. Eventually, his career begins to suffer and shortly after the advent of talkies, Raymond hits rock bottom. Desperate and alone, he is prostituting himself to feed his addiction to alcohol. But fate intervenes and reunites Raymond with Brick. However, Brick carries deep wounds from their past as well. Can the former lovers overcome the demons and betrayal of the past and find happiness once again? Spanning over a decade, Owen Keehnen’s The Matinee Idol is a timeless tale about second chances and the redemptive power of love.

Convincing the Secretary - Book Two of the London Legal series by Ava March (Included due to Edward’s true calling.)

- Business and pleasure is a mix no gentleman should consider. Lord Grayson Holloway goes after what he wants—be it in the law office on his clients’ behalf or in the bedchamber. His new position as partner puts him closer to achieving his goal of becoming the most successful solicitor in London. There’s just one problem—his new secretary. Broad of shoulder yet mild of manner, Edward tempts Gray like no other. Yet the young man barely notices him. Edward Fenton tries to be a good secretary, but being in Lord Grayson’s hard, commanding presence rouses Edward’s most forbidden desires. Wicked, naughty desires no gentleman should consider giving in to, let alone with his new employer. Gray is more than willing to mix business with pleasure. But convincing Edward to take a chance on a future with him? That might be the most challenging case Gray has ever taken on. Warning: Includes buttoned-up gentlemen who become undone, improper use of a desk, spankings, and a big bad lord who has a soft spot for his virgin secretary.

A Wager of Love by Katherine Marlowe (Review pending, but this is included, because Gilbert and Laurence have long conversations about poetry and philosophy, and they do a little acting in pursuit of their goal. This was a delightful book, using the thoughts and concepts of the time period to great effect.

- Laurence Aberforth has never been in love. The first time he meets the impulsive and charming Gilbert Heckwith, he accepts a wager as to whether or not true love exists in the world. Amidst the playful flirtation of their new friendship, they explore the concept of love through philosophy and poetry, and the two of them ultimately find the proof of their wager in each other. Clean romance, no cheating, no cliffhangers, standalone novella.

Such a Dance by Kate McMurray

- New York City, 1927. Eddie Cotton is a talented song-and-dance man with a sassy sidekick, a crowd-pleasing act, and a promising future on Broadway. What he doesn’t have is someone to love. Being gay in an era of prohibition and police raids, Eddie doesn’t have many opportunities to meet men like himself—until he discovers a hot new jazz club for gentlemen of a certain bent...and sets eyes on the most seductive, and dangerous, man he’s ever seen. Lane Carillo is a handsome young Sicilian who looks like Valentino—and works for the Mob. He’s never hidden his sexuality from his boss, which is why he was chosen to run a private night club for men. When Lane spots Eddie at the bar, it’s lust at first sight. Soon, the unlikely pair are falling hard and fast—in love. But when their whirlwind romance starts raising eyebrows all across town, Lane and Eddie have to decide if their relationship is doomed…or something special worth fighting for.

The First Act by Vanessa Mulberry

- April 1594. William Moodie thinks he’s in love with celebrated actor Richard Brasyer. When Brasyer’s playing company, Goldfox’s Men, comes to town, William is only too willing to leave his country life for the opportunities of the theater and a life in London. Determined to become Richard’s apprentice, William seeks to impress his mentor with his acting—and please him in bed.Meanwhile, Richard struggles to escape his past as a spy and disentangle himself from the manipulations of his former master and ex-lover, Bennett Goldfox. Swearing off a relationship with his new apprentice proves difficult for Richard, as William uses all his youthful charms to seduce him. When Bennett’s life is threatened, Richard is lured back into the game for one final mission, and he and William travel to Cambridge to hunt down a list of traitors to the Crown.In the midst of danger and deception, Richard and William come to truly see each other, faults and all, and realize their feelings run deeper than either expected.

Palace Dog by RE Nelson

- In April 1975, as the government in Saigon is falling, Michael Andrews prepares to make his way back to Vietnam to find the love he was forced to leave. But Michael’s journey begins four years earlier. He joins the Air Force to keep out of the Army and out of Vietnam, but his first assignment is teaching English in Saigon to members of the Vietnamese military in an Army program called Palace Dog. As an artist, and a man, before his time in Vietnam, Michael found life lonely and unsatisfying. In the midst of war, Michael searches for direction and meaning. He ultimately finds love and hope with Thao, a young Vietnamese art student, only to have their already uncertain future wrenched from them when he is pulled out of the country. For Michael, his return in 1975 is inevitable and without question, though the outcome he hopes for is anything but assured.

The Viscount and the Artist by Alyson Pearce (The Eccentrics Book 1) (Review pending, but this was a lovely surprise. I expected a slap-dash May/December romance, but these characters were actually worked out, and Jeremy stays true to his convictions in spite of everything working against him. Andrew has a crisis, but they work through it together.)

- Andrew Cardwell is a man driven by duty to his country and to his family. After the death of his uncle, he’s determined to provide security and stability for his family as the new Viscount Cardwell—even if that means marrying and producing an heir. Surprising himself, Andrew decides to sponsor a young artist named Jeremy for the season, to help him find a patron. What he doesn’t anticipate is how well Jeremy fits in his bed…and his life. Jeremy Leighton knows what it’s like to be a disappointment. The only son of a vicar, he’s refused to follow the path his father set for him, choosing his passion for art, instead. He accepts Andrew’s proposal, hoping to prove to his father—and himself—that he can succeed as an artist. After spending time with Andrew in and out of bed, Jeremy struggles not to fall for the damaged viscount, knowing the season will likely end in Andrew’s engagement. Between a meddling cousin, a widow on the hunt for a new husband, and their own doubts about the relationship, how can Andrew and Jeremy shed the expectations of others to find true happiness?

Juliana by Vanda (f/f)

- New York City, 1941. Alice “Al” Huffman and her childhood friends are fresh off the potato farms of Long Island and bound for Broadway. Al’s plans for stage success are abruptly put on hold when she’s told she has no talent. As she gets a job to pay for acting classes, Al settles into a normal life with her friends and a boyfriend. It all changes when she meets Juliana.A singer on the brink of stardom, Juliana is everything Al isn’t: glamorous, talented, and queer. The farm girl is quickly enthralled, experiencing thoughts and feelings she never realized were possible. Al finds herself slipping between two worlds: the gay underground and the “normal” world of her childhood friends. It’s a balancing act she can handle until the two worlds begin to collideIn a city bursting with change, can Alice find what she was looking for all along?Juliana: Volume 1: 1941-1944 is a captivating work of LGBT historical romance. If you like extensively researched settings, spell-binding storytelling, and characters you can’t help but fall for, then you’ll love the first book in award-winning playwright Vanda’s new Juliana series.

Nightingale by Aleksandr Voinov

- In Nazi-occupied Paris, most Frenchmen tread warily, but gay nightclub singer Yves Lacroix puts himself in the spotlight with every performance. As a veteran of France’s doomed defense, a survivor of a prison camp, and a “degenerate,” he knows he’s a target. His comic stage persona disguises a shamed, angry heart and gut-wrenching fear for a sister embedded in the Resistance. Yet Yves ascends the hierarchy of Parisian nightlife to become a star, attracting the attention—and the protection—of the Nazi Oberst Heinrich von Starck. To complicate matters further, young foot soldier Falk Harfner’s naïve adoration of Yves threatens everything he’s worked for. So does Aryan ideologue von Grimmstein, rival to von Starck, who sees something “a bit like a Jew” in Yves. When an ill-chosen quip can mean torture at the hands of the Gestapo, being the acclaimed Nightingale of Paris might cost Yves his music and his life.

Ardent by Heloise West

- In the village of Torrenta, master painter Morello has created a color that mimics the most expensive pigment of all, the crimson red. Master Zeno, from strife-ridden Medici Florence, tells him the color gives him a competitive advantage – but Morello must be careful. Fraud is ever-present in the dye and pigment markets. As they work together in Torrenta, Morello falls hard for Zeno’s assistant, Benedetto Tagliaferro, a young man of uncommon beauty and intelligence. Benedetto is still fixed on his old lover, the master painter Leo Guisculo, and cannot return Morello’s affections. But when Leo dies in a terrible accident, it’s to Morello that Zeno and Benedetto turn for help. And Morello soon finds that in Florence, every surface hides layers of intrigue.

[mnemememory]

blue-grey silhouettes 

Yasha comes back, and Beau can’t believe how sappy she is about it.

(a 2k monologue about nothing much, really). 

 “So,” Beau says, leaning back in her seat and taking a long gulp of ale. “Where were you this time?”

Yasha’s grin is small and unexpectedly shy, thick makeup smeared in a way that suggests long hours on the road a little chance of a touch-up. Beau can’t even remember the last time she bothered with anything much, though Jester seemed to enjoy the morning routine.

Of course, after almost three weeks on the road with little respite, they hadn’t exactly bothered with what Beau considered “useless gunk that gummed up an otherwise pleasant day” and other people considered “good manners” and “proper form” and whatever. Example a) makeup.

Beau has dust imbedded into the whorls of her fingertips. She’s never going to get it out of the creases in her boots, no matter the fervency with which she scrubs the leather, so she isn’t even going to try. Beau has scrubbed a lot of boots in her lifetime, and no longer has the appetite for it.

“Here and there,” Yasha says, ducking her head and taking a mouthful of her own drink. Beau still can’t figure out if Yasha is being deadly serious or teasing – there’s such a fine line, and Yasha has the kind of awkward poker face that feels easy to offend. I know I’m not great with people, she had stumbled out, once, and Beau can’t forget the way her shoulders had hunched over until she’d appeared almost as small as Nott. Beau wonders about that, sometimes; about the weight of Yasha’s shoulders, the sculpted lines of her cheeks. She wears so much makeup. That’s an awful thick mask you have there, she wants to say.

But Beau has never been a hypocrite (well, never intentionally, shut up Xanoth), and she can’t bare the thought of Yasha turning her piercing grey eyes onto Beau and saying, Not as thick as yours.

There’s a sex joke in there, but the thought process is far too convoluted to even bother trying to explain.

Beside her, Nott makes a sound of absolute fury and stands up on her chair, waving around her knife with the fractured madness of a crazy person. Caleb reaches up to grab her, but Nott is too fast. She jumps up onto the table and points the knife to Yasha’s throat. “You always do this!” she says. “No! No! You’re so mysterious! Tell us where you were!”

Yasha blinks up at Nott – well, no, that’s a lie. She blinks straight ahead at Nott, because even standing on a table, Nott is barely eye-level. “Oh,” she says, face blank. “Around.”

At this point, six months into their acquaintanceship (and maybe five and a half months into actual friendship, though Beau isn’t holding her breath for anyone other than Jester admitting to it), Beau is half convinced that Yasha is doing this whole “oblivious” routine just to fuck with Nott. Wouldn’t surprise her if that was the case, especially when Yasha sometimes disappears without even a storm to herald her absence. One day, they’re going to take another detour to a bathhouse and find Yasha relaxing there, soaking in their absence and laughing at Nott’s fury.

Nott snarls at her, and then pulls grumpily away. She flings herself violently back into her chair, tipping it backwards. Jester barely catches it in time to keep Nott from rolling neck-first onto the ground.

“It is good to see you again, Yasha,” Jester says, steadying Nott’s chair and then turning her guileless eyes onto Yasha. Beau grins into her flagon. Out of all of them, Yasha seems most off-guard with the blue Tiefling. “You have been gone for longer than usual.”

“Yes, we were starting to worry,” Molly says, tipping his chair back irritatingly against the wall. He has more makeup on than Yasha, shirt open and hair swept back in a way that he obviously thought made him look good. Beau kind of wants to kick the chair-leg and send him tumbling to the ground, but she curbs the impulse with another swallow. Manners, she thinks in Fjord’s voice, uncharitably. “You were gone for longer than usual.”

“Oh, you know,” Yasha says, shifting in her chair and crossing her arms underneath her chest. Beau sets her teeth and keeps her eyes dead centre of Yasha’s forehead. Don’t be so obvious about checking people out, Fjord had advised in the Weekly Tips section of their apprenticeship. Go slow, talk to them first, and then –

Beau is going so, so slow with Yasha, because Yasha is equal parts awkward and terrifying, and also because it would be so, so easy for Yasha to just disappear and never come back. Sometimes, Beau wonders if it’s just an inevitability, and they’ll be living with the ghost of Yasha’s presence for however long they stay together. One day, Beau is going to turn and say, Yasha, stay with us, we need you, and Yasha is going to leave anyway.

Yasha’s face brightens, a subtle change in expression that lights up her eyes. “But I’m here, now. For a while, I think. He shouldn’t need me again for a bit after this last part.”

“Tell – us – what – you – do,” Nott hisses, gauging the knife deep into the tabletop. Caleb looks up from his book, looks at the table, and then goes back to his book. Beau thinks he takes some kind of sick pleasure in watching Nott break things. Not that she’s anyone to judge in terms of bad coping habits and inappropriate catharsis.

“Now, now,” Fjord says, coming back from the bar with another around. Beau grabs a flagon and shoves her empty one back at him, grinning low and wide. “No need to resort to violence. And Nott, that kind gentlemen over behind the counter asks that you stop destroying his tables.”

Nott gives him a dark look from behind her porcelain mask, teeth sticking out oddly from where the edge meets the skin of her cheek. Then she lets go of the knife and leans sulkily back into her chair. “Whatever you say, Fjord.”

Fjord’s face twitches slightly, the way it does whenever anyone insists on pronouncing his name correctly, but he covers it up well enough. “For the guest of honour,” he says, putting down another flagon in front of Yasha. “It’s certainly been a while.”

“Yes,” Yasha says, draining it dry in almost a single drink. “It has been.”

Yasha sleeps in Beau and Jester’s room, as always.

She takes the floor. No amount of insisting on either of their parts can convince her to swap out for one of their mattresses. She won’t even acquiesce to a bed, which Beau is only a little bitter about – she would be totally fine with sharing a bed with Yasha, no, really, you’re not too big, look at the size of this thing –

But alas, Yasha takes the floor, and Beau is left to grumpily settle down under the covers.

The rooms of the inn aren’t the best in the world – Beau has certainly slept in better. She has also, however, slept in far worse, so she isn’t going to be complaining. Especially not after three weeks on the road, with dust down her throat and rocks in her boots. And her pockets. Somehow, every time she had reached into her pockets, she had found them filled to bursting with rough sandstone pebbles that were hell on the inner lining. From the way Jester kept on laughing at her, and Molly had looked insufferably smug, she’s guessing that those two had had something to do with it.

Jester stays up well past midnight, sketching out something in that weird little book of hers. Occasionally, she glances up to where Beau is lying on her stomach, or where Yasha is sitting by the window sharpening her sword, and giggle. Beau doesn’t especially like that particular giggle, though she generally enjoyed Jester’s sense of humour.

“Hey,” Beau says, after the fifth time it happened. “What’cha drawing?”

“Oh,” Jester says, snapping her book closed with a flurry. “Just some pictures for the Traveller. I’m sure he will really like them.”

“Uh…huh,” Beau says, torn between general apathy and a vague sense of worry. After a few minutes, she decides that she’s probably better off not knowing. Yasha doesn’t even look up from her blade – at least, not that Beau can see. Not that she’s looking.

Jester just smiles happily and goes to bed. Kid can go out like a light. Beau finds herself once again envying her outwardly uncomplicated outlook on going to sleep – Jester’s head hits the pillow, and she’s gone. It’s been a long time since Beau’s been able to sleep without a good forty-five minutes of tossing and turning.

To pass the time, she glances sideways to where Yasha is leaning against the wall, eyes half-closed in meditation. Her breathing is even, synchronised with the soft shing of the whetstone as it glides along the edge. Beau finds herself dozing, blanket warm around her shoulders, watching Yasha’s powerful form illumined by the steel-grey streetlamps that brighten the dreary outside streets. The town isn’t a large one, but Molly had looked kind of desperate for a proper bath, and Jester had been so excited about getting a proper night’s sleep, you guys, that no one had really had the heart to say no. It wasn’t like they couldn’t afford it, at the moment – though Fjord always seemed to end up paying.

A while ago, maybe that would have bothered Beau – that she was bending herself to fit in with these people, that she was letting herself be taken care of. For so long, she’d insisted it to be unnecessary. Xanoth had been insufferable in his smothering. Every step Beau took behind those walls had been like lead, every breath in a binder. She went to bed and thought, I can’t live like this, I can’t. the walls are closing in, and someday I’ll be crushed.

Maybe it should have been harder to leave. Beau sometimes thinks – when she’s really tired, when she’s been talking to Fjord too much about “feels” and “empathy” and “having concern for other people’s wellbeing” and all that rot – Beau sometimes thinks that there’s something wrong with her. Because she had just gotten up one day and walked out.

Of course, it hadn’t been nearly that easy on the practical side of things. Dodging the search parties had been a pain and a half (looking back, stealing all that gold probably hadn’t helped her case of leave me the fuck alone) and sleeping outside after a lifetime of temperate-controlled environments had been…challenging.

Beau squirms a bit under the covers. Funny, that. After so long adapting to sleeping without walls, the presence of them was a jarring discomfort.

The first night, Beau had walked as far as her legs would take her. She collapsed onto the grass as night shaded everything dark, and then watched as the stars burned bright holes into the roof of the world.

“Can’t you sleep?”

Beau’s eyes snap open to stare at Yasha, who has put her broadsword and sharpening tools away, and is not leaning loosely against the wall. Her eyes flash in the background light.

“Huh?” Beau says, the culmination of years of better-than-average intelligence and expensive education.

Yasha’s lips twitch, though it’s hard to see in the dim light. “I can hear you. Shifting around.”

“Oh,” Beau says, clearing her throat. She sits up, stretching out her arms and trying for a grin. “Too buzzed, I guess. Sorry if, uh, I’m keeping you awake.”

“No, no,” Yasha says. “It’s fine.”

They fall into a light silence, Beau hyper-aware of the way Yasha’s head leans back to expose the pale length of her throat. Jester rolls onto her side and lets out a long, happy sigh. “Oh, Oskar.”

After a few minutes, Beau clears her throat self-consciously.

“It’s just weird, is all,” she says, picking at her fingernails. For years, she’d constantly worn bandages wrapped around the tips – a consequence of hundreds of tiny papercuts. Her tutors had been in a constant state of despair; How, Beauregard? they would ask. You’re not even supposed to open the books! Just place them in the correct position…

“What’s weird?” Yasha asks.

Beau swipes an uncomfortable tongue along her lips. “I dunno. Everything. I’ll be glad to be out on the road again tomorrow, that’s all.”

“You don’t like it here?”

Beau gives an awkward jerk of her shoulders. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. Too small. I prefer cities with real, uh, character to them. You know. Bigger.”

Yasha huffs out a quiet laugh. Beau hides her grin in her shoulder, leaning heavily on her knee to compensate. Please let me look natural, she thinks, internally cringing at her obviousness.

“I get it,” she says. “I think.”

Beau gives herself a small glance upwards. Yasha looks all kinds of unreal in the shadows, silhouette picked up by the window. Marble and untouchable. “I was in one place for so long,” she finally admits, letting out a long breath. “I don’t like stopping where I can’t see the stars.”

Yasha hmms. “Yeah,” she says, flexing her fingers like she’s trying to hold onto something that isn’t there. “I definitely get that.”

Jester’s voice floats across the room: “You know, you guys can just make out, if you want. No one if stopping you. I’ll even pretend to be more asleep than I am now, if that helps. Goodnight!”

Beau is half-convinced that she’s going to wake up with Yasha gone.

When she opens her eyes, they go directly underneath her window sill. At some point during the night, the large woman had foregone the inherent coolness associated with sleeping upright and instead curled up on her side, sword clutched in her arms like a very sharp teddy-bear. Beau should absolutely not find it as endearing as she does.

Sometimes, she thinks, hefting her pillow in one hand and eyeing Jester’s bed. Sometimes these kinds of things aren’t so bad.

(she totally wins the ensuing pillow fight).

[saudadephotos]

*click here to see the above view as it appears today, eighty years later

                             Lake Yamanaka, in Winter

On February 2nd, 1938 two or three young Japanese photography enthusiasts took a three-hour train journey westwards from the Tokyo area to Mount Fuji where they overnighted in the Osakabe Hotel. The following morning at 9:30 am they walked half an hour south-west on foot to the southern shores of Lake Yamanaka with the intention of spending the day in a clockwise circumnavigation. They would take over 100 photographs which they later assembled in a ring-bound A4 book complete with occasional drawings and marginalia. In June 2018 I pulled this book from a pile of junk at a car boot sale in West London and in the coming posts I’m going to walk you through their journey.

What can we know of these young men, their origins and milieu, their expectations? Perhaps not much but certainly we can surmise: they were not poor, indeed rather privileged - there’s a least one Leica III visible in one image. They stayed in comfort in a nice hotel. They enjoyed leisure time and could afford to indulge in an expensive hobby. Against some images is a record of exposure values and shutter speeds. They seem close to one another, close enough to put together an album of their trip which lasted as a memento (could they be brothers?) They are prepared for their trip with rucksacks, coats and walking sticks. The curator of these images writes partly in English, why? 

Whilst we can share the joyful anticipation of such a pleasant trip it is not hard to feel pangs of dread when we consider the temper of the times in which these men found themselves. The innocent pleasures of such a jaunt are harshly juxtaposed with all that was about to befall Japan. A short month after this expedition the country was moved to a war footing with the National Mobilisation Law and the following three years were spent brutally colonising and subjugating mainland China. We all know what happened next.

It is difficult to believe that these young men could have escaped alive or unbrutalised by the disasters of World War II era Japan and yet the record of this innocent peacetime jolly has survived them. There’s a poignancy here and a hope that whatever happened to them they at least attempted to conduct themselves with the honour and grace somehow evident in this visual record of that Winter’s day at Lake Yamanaka in 1938.

I don’t claim that all the photographs are skilful or reach the level of art - whatever we may call that - but I’ve resisted the temptation to leave any out. They are shown in the order in which they were sequenced in the album (as best as I can tell) image by image. I have left in the Japanese text sometimes found at the margin in the hope that a speaker of that language will be able to shed some light (alas, I have no Japanese at all!). It is a passing fancy that somehow more information concerning these gentlemen may be found within these images and text. More likely they will remain among The Shades.

The very first photograph appears to have been taken from their hotel window and is, fittingly, of Mt. Fuji. I hope you enjoy the rest of the trip over the coming posts.