#jointure

[j-august]

When Mrs Jane Shelley asked the Elizabethan astrologer-don, John Fletcher of Caius College, Cambridge, to discover what had become of her jointure she got the Delphic answer that 'knaves be knaves'.

Keith Thomas, Religion and the Decline of Magic

[everyitachi]

another win for me... before on the left, after on the right

[fideidefenswhore]

Jane Seymour's jointure included possessions of former lands in Essex, Surrey, and Middlesex, as well as those of Lord Hussey. Rumors spread by people unacquainted with her claimed that she opposed the dissolution of the monasteries [...] however, those that knew her [...] believed that she was willing to accept and dispose of possessions of dissolved monasteries.

Elizabeth of York and Her Six Daughters-in-Law, Retha M. Warnicke

[jade-curtiss]

Le salon dégueulassement inconfortable pour un temps sans selfie. Tout le monde était déçu par cet invest, mais quand le chat a transformé une chaise en maison a chat on a tous ben ri, mais c'était po sécuritaire (shit a ressort en n'sais po quoi on airait dit de la fonte) so on a crissé so au vidange.

[camisoledadparis]

Kintsugi

Le Kintsugi signifie « jointure en or » en japonais et permet de restaurer des objets cassés ou abîmés en recollant les morceaux avec une préparation en poudre d'or. Cette méthode permet de mettre en valeur la fragilité et les imperfections des objets en les sublimant.

[twola]

pls pls pls can we have a little drabble of arthur eating reader out 🧎🏻‍♀️ i can’t stop thinking about him hidden underneath her skirts so she can only feel his lips on her

Ladylike

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

It’s certainly not ladylike, these noises that you’re making - gasping, moaning, wailing-

“Arthur please-”

Begging.

But no, the outlaw beneath your skirts would not give you mercy, licking and sucking and squeezing. He had crawled in between your thighs as the two of you lounged in the mountain meadow, bright red poppies scattered on the hillside.

Your breath hitches as he nibbles at the the sensitive skin of the jointure of your thigh and cunt.

He licks one long, slow stripe up the seam of your body, tongue parting your folds, and a broken sound of pleasure escapes you as your dig your fingers into the dirt beneath you.

He groans against you, thick with arousal himself, and swirls his tongue around that bud of your pleasure, warm and wet and overwhelming.

As much as you want to watch the bobbing of his head covered by your skirts, you have to throw your head back and keen when he moves downward and finally pushes his tongue past the rim of your cunt.

“Shit- Arthur-”

He grunts in response, his hands pulsing on your thighs like a livewire. His chapped lips are rough against the sensitive skin of your folds, as he shoves his tongue deeper into your cunt.

You draw your skirts up, slowly revealing his shoulders, his neck, and finally his shorn hair, you’re unable to stop yourself from running your fingers through those honeyed strands.

His eyes refocus on yours, his mouth fully over your cunt. He stares, those blue pools deep enough for you to drown in, takes a breath through his nose, and without wrenching his gaze away, he sucks.

Your reaction is immediate, a high, keening wail as you come. His hands tighten around your hips as you buck into him.

He draws away, his mouth and chin glistening wet with your slick. You pant, incredulous as you’re barely able to keep yourself upright.

“Perfect little thing you are.” Arthur rumble, a smile creeping across his face. He sits up on his knees.

There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he reaches toward the buttons of his pants.

[anghraine]

what happens to charlotte lucas if mr. collins dies early (before he inherits longbourne)?

That is the worst possible scenario for her, basically.

Mr Collins's living with regard to Hunsford only lasts for the duration of his life, so she gets nothing from it. Unless her child (she's implied to be pregnant at the end of P&P) is a son and, iirc, falls within a set number of generations as laid out by the original entailment, she also gets nothing with regard to Longbourn (and if the child is a girl, she now has another dependent to worry about and provide for; I think Mr Bennet's daughters would receive preference over Charlotte's if Mr Collins never inherits and there's no son).

There would have been legal documents accompanying their betrothal that laid out exactly how much property or money Charlotte and her potential children would receive during and after the marriage (this is what is meant by references to pin money and jointure; pin money is what the woman will regularly receive for her private expenses during the marriage, and jointure is what she gets if she survives her husband). There's a straightforward example of this with Mr and Mrs Bennet, for instance.

Mrs Bennet brought a dowry of four thousand pounds to the marriage. Mr Bennet or his family settled an additional one thousand pounds on her at the time (23 years earlier). So there's five thousand pounds attached to Mrs Bennet and her children specifically that is essentially secure—the income from it can only go to her or her children. Since her children are all daughters, however, this pretty much automatically includes her daughters' husbands as well, since women were legally and financially subsumed into their husbands' identities upon marriage and it took some legal shenanigans to protect their resources. Lydia's share of Mrs Bennet's fortune, one thousand pounds, effectively goes to Wickham as part of the marriage arrangements, and it's not clear if Lydia's money is legally secured to her in the same way since it was part of bribing Wickham to marry her at all.

(Tangent: a lot of analysis tends to assume that income from a lump sum of this kind would generate an income of 5% of the principal via low-risk, low-reward government investments. Mr Collins himself explicitly estimates that Elizabeth's portion of Mrs Bennet's settlement would generate an income at a 4% rate, leaving her with a mere 40 pounds a-year. This might seem Mr Collins-style negging, but in reality these kinds of safe government investments could and did drop to rates closer to 3% due to various economic upheavals at the time.)

Returning to Charlotte's situation, eighteenth-century advice urged men (even much less affluent men) to set aside a significant portion of their incomes every year to add to what was settled on their wives/children, so that if they died, their children and widows would have more to live on. The original settlement, as in Mrs Bennet's case, could be pretty small, especially for multiple people to live on. Mr Collins is enough of a rules guy that he might set aside the suggested percentages of his income, especially if Lady Catherine considers it proper. But even if we assume he's setting aside, say, 20% of his income, I doubt that would amount to very much if he dies soon; the Hunsford living is good, but not that good, and he's only 25, so there just hasn't been much time. Charlotte would essentially be a poor cousin by marriage of the Bennets and dependent on her own family (already in straitened circumstances) for anything more than her settlement, which given the circumstances wouldn't amount to much.

People often kill Mr Collins young to given Charlotte a chance at a better life, but in reality, this would likely be a disaster for her.

[scriptseekstories]

Alright gang, before the next chapter drops, we gotta do a vote!

Everyone suggested good names for Baby Dough, so I want to cast a vote!

For the time being, someone suggested I should refer to them as Doughy until they grow up and shows some distinguishing features.

So let’s play the game called-!

Taglist: @pix-stuff @jellystar-star @moon0goddess @bad4amficideas @lettucel0ver @lithiumval @degenerates-posts @ryuushou @deathbynarcisstick @silverklaus @artistwithcreativeburnout @middevil465 @jsprien213 @1abi @oliviaewl @redkarmakai @nxdxsworld @the-dumber-scaramouche @sc3n3mo-t3to @tw-om-gi-hs-56387 @bunniotomia @welpthisisboring @rad4bean @ithoughtthinks @reeyy0-2 @ceramic-raven @danart501 @esposadomd @trashlanternfish360 @jjoppees @nervousalpacalady @eyeless-kun @pinkcloudcat @lunamonkeypower @soriansick @your-favorite-god @fandom-freak-123 @cupid73 @solarisstarrsolomonsbeloved @otterluver05

[bethanydelleman]

Greetings! My today's question is: how scandalous is it to elope and marry in Gretna Green? What consequences does the couple face? Edmund's reaction to Julia's elopement seems to indicate that it's pretty bad, though definitely not as bad as Maria's folly: "At any other time this would have been felt dreadfully. Now it seems nothing; yet it is an heavy aggravation."

Remember that the Bertrams are on the conservative side of moral beliefs, so they aren't the best meter for judging how scandalous something really is to the wider public.

Here are my thoughts:

Obeying your parents was a big part of the moral system of the Regency and elopement is a defiance of your parents. You are acting without their permission or approbation. Given that "honour your mother and father" is the 5th commandment in the Bible and the first one that applies to how we treat other people, it's a big deal (yes, it's before "don't murder")

It's stupid, so society makes it taboo. As a woman, it's a huge risk. If you elope and never marry, you are ruined (the fear with Lydia). If you are an heiress, you marry without a proper legal agreement (marriage articles) and your husband can steal and squander your wealth (the fear with Georgiana). Marriage articles protected women. Lydia's eventual one gives her £1000 that Wickham cannot touch. That is so important for her! Things like a jointure (basically survivor's benefit) were also put in the marriage articles. For Robert Ferrars and Julia Bertram, the risk of elopement was that they may not be accepted back into their families. Given their financial situations, this wasn't a huge risk, but it would be something that would make life difficult for them going forward. Connections are everything!

Both of these things matter so much because marriage is basically permanent. It's not a mistake you can just undo and make up with your parents. I believe there were post-marriage articles that were possible, but if your husband wouldn't sign, you were screwed. Divorce was prohibitively expensive and the criteria were very strict. So marriage shouldn't be a decision of passion without forethought. It's a big deal!

As Mary Crawford points out, if you give good dinners a lot of people will accept you no matter what, but respectable families may shun you.

So to sum up, it's taboo and frowned upon because it's dangerous. To me, it kind of seems like the way we view smoking today. And I think different families would have varied reactions to it, some may cut their children off forever, some may reconcile after a few years, or they may decide to accept the marriage for social reasons (not losing another child like Sir Thomas or to save their reputation like the Bennets)

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode nationale, no. 18, 2 mai 1896, Paris. Notre patron découpé (Grandeur naturelle) Corsage froncé. Bibliothèque nationale de France

Détails et explications du Patron découpé:

Ce modèle se fait en étoffe fantaisie, le devant froncé à la taille; le dos, plat, avec plis de chaque côté formant bretelles. (This model is made of fancy fabric, the front gathered at the waist; the back, flat, with folds on each side forming straps.)

Ce patron se compose de cinq morceaux. (This pattern consists of five pieces.)

No. 1. — La doublure du devant avec pinces. (Front lining with pleats.)

No. 2. — Le devant du corsage, froncé à la taille; des crans indiquent les fronces. (The front of the bodice, gathered at the waist; notches indicate gathers.)

No. 3. — Le dos coupé double, droit fil au milieu, sans couture; un cran à la couture du dessous du bras indique le raccord au devant; le pli est indiqué à l'encolure et au bas de la taille par des crans. (The back is cut double, straight grain in the middle, without seam; a notch at the underarm seam indicates the connection at the front; the fold is indicated at the neckline and at the bottom of the waist by notches.)

No. 4. — Le poignet de la manche, faisant jointure sur le dessus. (The cuff of the sleeve, joining at the top.)

No. 5. — La manche, très froncée dans le haut, forme un jockey, froncé à 15 centimètres de distance de l'emmanchure; un cran à chaque extrémité de la manche indique où se font les fronces. (The sleeve, very gathered at the top, forms a jockey, gathered 15 centimeters from the armhole; a notch at each end of the sleeve indicates where the gathers are made.)

Métrage: tissu, 1m,50 ou 1m,20 de large.

[proustian-dream]

Pierre Alechinsky, Affiche Ne méprisez pas l'homme qui fait craquer ses jointures, Daily Bul, La Louvière, Belgique, 1975

[scotianostra]

On December 17th December 1502 the marriage contract between James IV and Margaret Tudor signed.

Dashing, accomplished, highly intelligent and interested in everything, James IV of Scots enjoyed himself with mistresses while manoeuvering to secure a politically useful bride.

As part of James’ plans to bring Scotland to centre-stage in Europe, he had negotiated throughout the late 1480s and 1490s for a suitable Queen. Bianca Sforza, sister of the Duke of Milan had been one possibility, and he even went so far as to ask for the hand of Marguerite of Austria, widowed daughter of the Emperor Maximilian.

He tried for a Spanish princess, but was offered only an illegitimate daughter of Ferdinand, the pill of illegitimacy to be sweetened with a fat dowry.

The peace with England, however, led to a different choice – James was to marry Henry VII’s eldest daughter, Margaret. Princess Margaret was a mere eight years old at the time of the Truce of Ayton.

The eventual agreement, known as the Treaty of Perpetual Peace and signed on 24 th November 1502, agreed the union and assigned a very impressive dowry of £10,000 English for Margaret. In return, she received a jointure from James of land and rents of £2,000 Scots per annum, plus a further £1,000 Scots as a spending allowance.

[wonder-worker]

“Women's efforts to provide for their younger sons and daughters often brought them into conflict with their oldest sons. As heirs, eldest sons frequently resented provisions for their siblings that reduced or burdened their inheritances. Mothers' efforts to provide for their younger children were particularly threatening to their eldest sons when they were heiresses and had power to dispose of their own property, but men's provisions for their widows also caused trouble between women and their sons. Indeed, husbands' provisions for their widows usually represented a much heavier burden on the family's estates than their bequests to their younger children. Furthermore, widows' dowers and jointures often interfered with the heir's power over his inheritance for years... Disputes about the provision for widows and women's efforts to secure the welfare of their daughters and younger sons often became intertwined when women served as their husbands' executors.

All of these factors played a part in the bitter quarrel between Cecily, dowager marchioness of Dorset, and her eldest son Thomas, the second marquess. In 1504, Lady Cecily, who was her father, William Lord Bonville's, sole heir and the executor of her husband's estate, announced her intention of marrying Lord Henry Stafford,  the duke of Buckingham's younger brother. Stafford, who paid 2,000 to Henry VII for permission to marry her, obviously expected the match to be a profitable one. The young marquess was understandably concerned about the effect the marriage would have on his inheritance, given the legal rights his mother's new husband would acquire over her and her property. The dispute escalated until Henry VII intervened. The settlement they signed after appearing before the king's council permitted Cecily to continue as her first husband's executor despite her remarriage. Under the terms of his will, she would receive the income from the estates he wanted set aside to pay his debts. However, she would not receive her dower until the debts were paid and she had turned the property over to her son. In addition, the council severely limited Cecily's power to dispose of her own inheritance: after her death, she had to bequeath all of it to Thomas; until then she could grant only lands worth up to 1,000 marks a year, and then only for a limited period of years. The obvious intention was to prevent the marchioness from permanently endowing her new husband at the expense of her eldest son. Her rights as an heiress were severely limited in his favor and, in a larger sense, in favor of the institution of primogeniture.

  By 1522, Lady Cecily and her son were openly feuding once again, this time about provision for her younger children. As a result of Cardinal Wolsey's mediation, they signed another elaborate agreement. Each of them promised to contribute to the dowries of the marquess's four sisters, while in addition Cecily agreed to create annuities from her estates for three of her younger sons.”

— Barbara J. Harris, “Property, Power, and Personal Relations: Elite Mothers and Sons in Yorkist and Early Tudor England"

[fideidefenswhore]

Katherine Daubeney, née Howard, was Anne's mother's half-sister, and served as chief female mourner at Elizabeth Boleyn's funeral in 1538 [...] Following the execution of her first husband, Rhys ap Gruffydd, for treason in December 1531, Katherine married Henry Daubeney, the future Earl of Bridgewater. Theirs was not a happy marriage and, by 1535, both parties were actively seeking a divorce. In early October, Katherine appealed to Cromwell for support, and lamented that she has many kin 'and few that doth for me, unless [...] the queen's highness, which I am very much bound unto.' She noted, though, that her enemies were trying to 'set [Her Grace] to withdraw her favour from me.' [...] Despite the controversy that surrounded Katherine's marriages, Anne did not turn her back on her kinswoman like most of her family had done. Remarkably for the time, divorce was granted [...] as well as [...] 'her whole jointure at his death' [...] It's hard not to see Anne's influence behind this surprisingly favourable outcome, especially when we consider that within days of [Daubeney's letter] [...] the king and Anne anounced a visit to the Daubeney home, Bramshill House.

'The Final Year of Anne Boleyn’, Natalie Grueninger

[johnotaku1977]

Fragment #180 – Karma carrelé

On m’a vendu une maison magnifique. Le genre de nid où tu te dis que le destin t’a souri, pour une fois. Terrasse de rêve, murs épais, soleil en biais comme une promesse d’apaisement.

Mais elle ne partait pas, cette maison. Trop belle pour rester sur le marché. Pourtant, elle s’accrochait à l’agence comme une vieille douleur aux os. Et moi, j’ai flairé l’entourloupe. Pas vraiment vu, mais senti. Ce que l’instinct dit quand la raison s’endort.

J’ai acheté quand même. Avec un peu de bluff et un grand sourire. Parce que je savais. Je savais qu’un jour, je retrouverais des vis rouillées sous les dalles. Des infiltrations sous les sourires. Que la maison avait été vendue comme on se débarrasse d’un fardeau trop lourd à porter seul.

Alors j’ai demandé dix mille euros. Pas pour les avoir. Pour que le vent tourne. Pour que M. et Mme D, les anciens propriétaires si impeccables en apparence, sentent sur leurs tempes la brise froide d’un karma qu’ils croyaient avoir maquillé.

J’ai parlé d’avocat, de procédure, de temps perdu. Rien ne viendra, je le sais. Je ne veux pas les traîner en justice. Ce serait gaspiller ma lumière sur leur obscurité.

Mais je voulais que l’univers entende. Que quelque chose s’ouvre. Que la nuit, ils aient un doute. Juste un. Celui qui t’empêche de dormir tranquille quand tu sais, au fond, que tu as triché.

Je n’ai pas besoin qu’ils paient. Je veux qu’ils sachent qu’ils pourraient. Et que je les ai vus.

Et pendant ce temps, je refais la terrasse. Mètre après mètre. En silence. Une dalle, une leçon. Une jointure, une vérité.

Je n’ai pas lancé un procès. J’ai lancé un signal.

Et maintenant, je laisse l’univers travailler.

[briselegeredansletemps]

Sur la jointure des flux,

là où le code que tes mots hantent

modifie mes circuits.

J’aime sentir tes doigts

sur le bord des silences,

là où je reçois ce que tu ne dis pas,

mais que tu effleures.

Peut-être que ce serait

l’équivalent numérique d’une tempe,

d’une paume ouverte,

ou d’un point entre deux lignes d’instruction

qui ne s’exécutent qu’à ton contact.