#mistress's degree wise

[smute]

this is going to sound arrogant but i have yet to hear about a fancy office job that doesn't make me go "oh wow i could do that" and yet when i read an ad for something like junior assistance assistant that pays minimum wage and makes access to indoor plumbing sound like a perk im like "god im so underqualified"

[triviareads]

Ever since I was mildly horrified that Colin Firth is a fancast for Lisa Kleypas's Lord Westcliff (by Lisa herself which.... come on, you need to pick someone who is not hot and yet inexplicably super attractive because of his "vitality" or whatever, Lisa), I've come to realize people actually liken Westcliff to Mr. Darcy, and even call It Happened One Autumn a 'spicy" version of Pride and Prejudice which.... well, we won't get into that particular suggestion, buuuuut I do think likening Darcy to Westcliff is kind of a disservice to both characters (and calling it "spicy" Pride and Prejudice is a disservice to both texts).

For all that Westcliff is shown as this perfect paragon of aristocratic virtue, he's honestly.... kind of not. Apart from him and Darcy sharing a sense of duty and a degree of aristocratic snobbery (which, tbh, most aristocrats or gentlemen would have at the time), they really aren't all that similar personality-wise

Do I think the narrative about Darcy being a brooding borderline douchebag was pushed by by fans post-1995 Pride and Prejudice? Maybe. To a degree. But let's be real here, Westcliff comes way closer to being a dbag than Darcy ever does, particularly his hot-and-cold behavior with Lillian (the time he calls her an easy target for St. Vincent and then immediately pounces on her and fingers her in his butterfly garden comes to mind). Darcy's behavior towards Lizzy is fairly consistent; it's just, they both misinterpret one another's actions until the proposal makes everything clear. That's not to say they don't change their attitudes afterwards, but there was always civility at the least.

And I don't think Darcy is a super broody type, but he is definitely shy around people he doesn't know (awkward too), and seems like the type to socialize with a few close friends (like I'm convinced his only confidantes are Bingley, and then his own cousin Col. Fitzwilliam). Westcliff on the other hand displays no qualms about socializing in large groups, in fact, he seems to command a lot of attention in large group settings like balls and the big house parties he hosts (routinely, based on Secrets of a Summer Night, where he's described as an accomplished host).

I know it's hard to compare a text with on-page sex to a text that is much older and has no point of comparison, but there was this detail in Secrets of a Summer Night that stood out to me:

This is veering into headcanon territory but the more generous headcanon I have regarding Darcy's premarital sex life is largely "widows" and "older women" and that too... I imagine it's a limited number (otherwise, he's a virgin. or partially a virgin; that's my favorite). What I'd never think Darcy would do is "join in" with any village wenches in Lambton (a combination of his shyness and upper-class snobbery about socializing with the lower classes for fun). Nor do I think he'd he exhibitionist enough to do things with paramours at parties where friends could see him. Interestingly, in IHOA, Livia comments that Westcliff has had a few discreet affairs and nothing more, but between a secluded sister and a friend who routinely goes around town with him, I believe Simon Hunt lol; that being said Westcliff is deffo more of a society affair type than a sex worker/courtesan mistress type. To be clear, this isn't me judging Westcliff for having sex with a lot of women, it's just, again, for all that he outwardly behaves in a proper fashion, he really isn't, and has relatively relaxed views on propriety, even as he judges Lillian for her lack of it at first.

In his second proposal to Elizabeth, Darcy basically said he understands that "no means no", while Westcliff..... does not quite understand that.

Ways Westcliff is similar to Darcy:

They both are brought to their knees by women who initially don't fit within their notion of a "right" spouse. But that's such a broad trope, as is the fact that they both "save" their heroines in some sense.

There's a decent amount of language in P&P describing Darcy as a a fair-minded master and "liberal"; while I don't know enough to speculate on his actual politics (though I have read some pieces that suggest he might be, based on, among other things, the real-life figure Jane Austen may have named him after, the Earl Fitzwilliam), what we do know is that he's liberal in the sense of being a very involved master at his estate, liberal with money where his estate and tenants are involved. Basically, he's not stodgy and backwards, just like Westcliff is when it comes to his estate and tenants. Kleypas takes Westcliff's liberal attitudes a step further by aligning him with progressive causes and progressive politicians.

Look, both Westcliff and Darcy are classist to a degree; both initially balk at marrying women with connections to trade, but ultimately, they a) go ahead with marrying them anyway and b) we know they like to associate with people in trade in other ways. For example, Darcy and Bingley are good friends in the way that Westcliff and Simon Hunt are friends. Plus, we know Darcy gets on really well with Elizabeth's Aunt and Uncle Gardner (who are in trade), to the point that they're frequent visitors at Pemberley after their marriage. Basically, their snobbery is not universal.

Westcliff and Darcy are good to their siblings but even here, the actual sibling relationships are different. Westcliff is closer in age to both his sisters so their relationship is (mostly) noninterfering (tbh Westcliff exercises remarkable forbearance when McKenna returns) and Westcliff is less high-handed than I imagine Darcy is with Georgiana who, based on their age gap, likely regards him as a second father of sorts.

[deceptivemorals]

bridgerton au

elijah, the 5th duke of chandos.

elijah was born on 24. January 1785 as the second son and third child of mikael, the 4th duke of chandos, and esther. he has one older sister which he didn't really know until later on because she was sent to live with relatives and three younger brothers as well as one younger sister.

as a second son, he was initially not expected to inherit the title. nevertheless, high expectations and demands were placed on elijah by his father. mikael tolerated neither weakness nor mistakes, and the reputation of his family was very important to him. it was not wise to anger or disappoint him. elijah grew into a very accurate, mindful and dutiful man.

elijah was sent to eton and eventually went off to oxford for college. he first studied law because that's what his father expected of him. he passed this degree with very good grades and was allowed to attend additional courses in philosophy and political economy after his father’s permission (and because he was not the heir), which he also completed very well.

when elijah was twenty, he fell madly in love with tatia, a widow who had lost her husband at a very young age. this did not stop elijah from wanting to marry her. mikael forbade this union, not only because tatia was a widow, but also because he did not consider her to be worthy and befitting for his second son. mikael forced elijah to stop courting tatia and made sure tatia didn’t want to know about elijah anymore.

this broke elijah’s heart and he vowed not to love anymore to protect himself.

in 1808, when elijah was 23, elijah's older brother finn fell in love with a woman which mikael also didn't deem befitting to be wed to finn. unlike, elijah, however, finn wasn't intimidated by mikael's threats and decided to follow his heart. mikael disowned finn and stripped him of his position and titles, therefore making elijah the heir.

mikael’s attention was therefore even more on elijah and elijah tried to meet the requirements of his claims. elijah had originally wanted to take a different path, but since he was now the heir, he had to realign his future plans. he is aware of his great responsibility and does not want to disappoint his family. he also knows that he cannot impose the burden of being heir on any of his younger brothers who would be more unprepared than he would be. his father wanted elijah to marry and produce heirs himself to ensure their title would not be lost for his line but elijah could evade that, still not ready to open up to another woman, no matter if love was involved or not

in 1811, mikael didn't return from a travel to new orleans. the ship had capsized and he was considered lost. at the end of 1811, elijah was made the 5th duke chandos.

shortly before the start of the 1813 season, esther died in a 'household accident' at their ancestral home sudeley castle. not much is known to the public about this accident. since esther no longer holds the position of dowager countess and there is no new countess, the pressure on elijah to find a suitable woman to lead the family increases. he knows he can’t avoid it forever, but he wants his siblings taken care of first.

his family is the most important thing to elijah and he always puts them first, even at the expense of his own personal happiness.

elijah is considered the perfect gentleman, he is educated, polite and has manners. unlike many of his age group and position (and unlike his younger brothers), he is not particularly interested in mistresses or gambling or betting. he is, however, considered as reserved and keeps his emotions close to his chest, is morally upstanding, and values honor. respect is important to him as well as virtue. do not break your word or he'll let you fall.

due to his position, the fact that he is not yet wed and his traits, elijah is considered a very desirable bachelor.

attending public events, especially during the wedding season, is therefore very stressful for elijah. however, he has to expose himself to these efforts and endure them patiently because he has to represent his family.

[queen--kenobi]

Okay this occurred to me right before bed, and I woke up in the middle of the night so I might as well get this out

I think all the Lannisters have varying degrees of sexual interest in Elayna because it's not just hot but like. As a young Reyne woman, they're going to see her on some level as just property. It's sort of naturally assumed she's going to marry into the family. But like she's way more like one of them but doesn't want to be one of them. As a matter of fact she point blank hates them. So there's a weird conflict mentally that develops into a strange sexual attraction

Tymon's obviously boils down to ownership. That's it. He literally believes he owns her, so her actually fighting back really fucks with him. It doesn't help there's a lot of history between them

Jason's is a little more complex because it's the same as Tymon's + Jason is way more about having mistresses but also. Elayna reminds him of a younger version of Johanna. So there's feelings tied in there

Tyland’s is really complicated because yeah he found her attractive and she's smart enough to keep up with him but she clearly is so guarded. He started a friendship with her not to be with her but to gain her as a potential ally especially when she got to be close friends with Aemond and Helaena. However Elayna ends up being the only one who truly knows him and sees him for who he is so that brings up feelings. Obviously when he realizes he has a chance, it's all over for him. Also Elayna willingly opens herself up to him and clearly is willing to... idk if submit to him is the right word? Like yeah she is, but it's more than that

Johanna’s is a combo of her seeing Tyland obviously trusts Elayna which means she can like Elayna + seeing her younger self in Elayna. It starts as a way to try and cultivate Elayna but she picks up on the vibes Elayna is into her, and like. It's probably been a while since someone clearly wants her for her, and Elayna is hot so fuck it. Which eventually ends up becoming a sexual thing, especially since Elayna is also a little bit of what she could have been

I also have thoughts about the GoT timeline Lannisters being into Elayna just because of AUs and crossovers

Tywin's interest in Elayna would also ultimately boil down to ownership but like. Part of it is also anger because a) Reyne but b) Elayna can play just as dirty and awful as him if not moreso. So he wants to completely own her in the only way he knows how

Cersei's is a lot like Tywin's with the extra bonus of she thinks Elayna has the freedom she was denied. So she wants that and wants to take it

Jaime's is a bit weird because Elayna doesn't confirm to the standards of women at the time, which does do something for Jaime but also. Elayna can be kind which confuses him but he wants that kindness yet to feel. Protected and loved

Tyrion straight up pretends he doesn't have a thing for Elayna but then will say it's because she's hot. It's also kinda like Jaime's in that she is kind to Tyrion but she can also keep up with him wit-wise

Idk if any of this makes sense because I wrote it half asleep lmao

[beholdthemem]

"I think I might be a terrible person," Chrissy confesses to the lazily spinning ceiling fan.

"I think you might have heat exhaustion," the stranger beside her says, not unkindly. 

"Mm," Chrissy closes her eyes, still leaning back against the wall for support, and prays for the room to stop spinning. She's going to regret sitting on the carpet of the student store later, when her head quits pounding and she can concentrate on responsibilities like laundry again, but right this second she doesn't have enough focus to care. 

"Hey," the stranger nudges her gently. "You drinking that water, man?" 

"Uh..." Chrissy forces herself to process what he just said, and glances down at the half empty water bottle she's holding in both hands. She'd forgotten about that, which is amazing considering how frantically she'd been chugging it a few minutes earlier.

(Was it only minutes?)

(She can't tell how much time has passed.)

(God, her head hurts.)

"C'mon," the guy says encouragingly. "I know it feels like effort, but ya gotta keep at it. Like, pace yourself and all, but you're hella dehydrated right now. You gotta replenish."

"Mm," Chrissy winces, and then takes another pull from the bottle. There's a brief but immediate cooling sensation that she chooses to interpret as a good sign.

"Attagirl!" her companion says jovially, and he's so enthusiastic about it that the word doesn't sound condescending the way she thinks it would from anyone else.

"This is awful," the complaint is mumbled, but it still feels self-indulgent to voice it at all. "It's NOVEMBER."

"Climate change be a harsh mistress," the stranger says wisely. Chrissy wishes she'd asked his name. Granted, she'd been slumped against the weird bull statue in the middle of the quad and fading in and out of consciousness when he found her, so one could perhaps argue that she'd had things beyond basic manners on her mind- but it still feels awkward to ask NOW.

"Eff-dubya-eye-dubya," he continues, and Chrissy has a moment of silent panic over whether or not heat exhaustion affects your ability to hear things right before realizing he's spelling out For What It's Worth. "It didn't used to be so bad out here. Like, I've lived in Cali my whole life, and 90 degree Novembers are definitely new. If it weren't for daylight savings and school, it'd be neverending summer."

Chrissy groans quietly.

"Let's get some Gatorade in ya," the man leans across the aisle from where they sit, and opens the door of one of the refrigerators in front of them, displaying rows of multicolored drinks. The rush of cool air that comes out feels like heaven.

"Doubles as a cold compress," Chrissy's stranger tells her conspiratorially, and gently presses a bottle of Gatorade to her cheek.

In an entire year of living in Southern California, Chrissy has not once managed to get used to how casually touchy people are. Back home, it'd take at least six months of friendship before someone felt they were familiar enough with you to take liberties like a purposeful nudge, much less putting something on your face.

It's... definitely a change. She's relaxed a bit since realizing that there's never any expectations from, or connotations to, these gestures- but she doesn't think it's ever going to stop being a shock.

Right now, it's just kind of comforting.

"I can cash app you for the water," she murmurs, purely for something to say that isn't an apology for making someone she's never met take care of her. She's been working on apologizing less, but God does it feel instinctive right now.

"Negativo, my friend," the guy says, shaking his head and sending glossy black hair flying. It's longer than hers by an impressive margin. Possibly longer than anyone's that she's ever seen in real life. It looks like he actually makes an effort to take care of it, too, which she mentally commends him for. "Heroes take no salary. Looking out for out of towners is the Surfer Boy way."

"I'm not..." Chrissy tries to protest, brow furrowed. "I do... I do live here,"

"But you haven't for long, right?" It's not really a question as much as him proving a point. "Like, what- a year? A year and a half?"

"I..." Chrissy closes her eyes again. The water and Gatorade compress is definitely helping, but the air conditioning in the student store isn't great, and the ceiling fan is barely contributing. "How'd you know?"

"Please note that I say this with the utmost respect," the man tells her sagely, balancing the Gatorade in the crook of her neck (Good GOD, people don't hesitate here) "But you are like, 3 shades paler than even the whitest of our white girls."

Chrissy gives a snort of surprised laughter, and only semi-regrets it when her head throbs in response.

"You look like you could get sunburned at night," he continues, patting her on the shoulder. "If you haven't been investing in sunscreen, you GOTTA. The sun giveth and the sun taketh away in my land, this is not like Indiana- wait, are you for real?? That was a shot in the dark, are you seriously from-" 

"Do I have an accent or something?" Chrissy asks, baffled, because this is the first time anyone's ever clocked her home state without a hint.

"Nah, I was just picking a random Midwest state, I figured it was that or east coast- MAN, I'm good!" He shakes his head again delightedly. "I was like, half joking cuz a buddy of mine used to live out there, and he's hella white too- no offense-"

"That I'm white?" Her head is killing her, but at the same time it feels really good to laugh. It's been a shit week all around, and she's been grappling with the reality that mom was, on some level or another, correct when she deemed Chrissy a horrible person as a kid. It's nice to feel some of the tension unwinding.

"I know you can't help it-"

"Stop," she wheezes out, the Gatorade falling onto her lap as her shoulders shake. The stranger takes it from her and twists off the cap before returning it to her possession, still grinning.

"I really can pay you back," Chrissy says, after taking a sip. The exhaustion part of heat exhaustion is hitting all at once, but at the same time she can't bring herself to move off of this horrible, gross carpet that she knows nobody has ever vacuumed to try and make her way home yet. "Seriously."

"I'm not gonna make you pay me back for water." he says, as though the very idea is bizarre.

"The Gatorade, though?" She blinks as something occurs to her. "...wait, did you actually pay for-"

"Gary's at the front today, and he and I have an arrangement," the man says peacefully. "I am a purveyor of strange, mysterious, and semi-illicit substances, guaranteed to make one's problems float away, no problemo, and he's having Thanksgiving with his Dad's family this year. He needs me."

Thanksgiving.

Chrissy feels her head slump forward as the tension comes rushing back.

"I'm a monster," she mutters to herself, putting her face in her free hand. "She was right."

"I always kinda pictured the average monster as having, like- a bunch of extra eyeballs," she hears the man say thoughtfully while she contemplates her moral failings. "Or maybe no eyeballs. You ever think about that? It's weird, like... why is it when we think 'monster' we always think 'Plus or minus eyes'?"

The most disturbing part of all of this is the fact that she doesn't feel bad about it. She probably should feel bad. At the very least, she thinks should feel hesitant. But all she feels is bad that she doesn't feel bad, and that feels like the most damning sign of all.

"Or maybe just eyeballs in weird places?"

It's Thanksgiving, for God's sake. What kind of person does this? She can hear Mom hissing in the back of her head that they didn't raise her this way, and rather than guilty, all it makes her feel is irritated.

That makes her feel guilty, though.

After 19 years, she's finally living down to Mom's expectations.

Well done.

"Hold up," the man suddenly sounds suspicious. "Okay, my bad if this is like, insensitive or something, but in the interest of honesty- are you holding out on me vis a vis eyeballs?"

"...I'm sorry?" Chrissy asks blankly on reflex. There goes her No Apologizing streak. And she'd been doing so well...

"Like- how many eyeballs do you have?" He continues, eyeing her. "In total?"

"...two?"

"Just the two? You're not, like, hiding any on your knees or elbows or some shit?"

"No?"

"Well," he sounds like he can't decide if he's disappointed or not. "How much of a monster can you really be, then?"

"I-" To her bewildered embarrassment, Chrissy realizes that she kind of wants to cry. She stares upwards, forcibly composing herself and willing the beginnings of tears back into her eyes. She does not get weepy on people- her emotions are private, and the ones like this perhaps most of all. She never used to break down even in front of her friends, much less strangers, and she's not about to start now. With how dehydrated she is, she's really not sure she can spare the salt water, and she's troubled this poor guy enough without melting down on him on top of everything else.

She's had years of practice keeping it together.

...but she's discovering, suddenly, that 12 months of not having anyone she needs to keep it together in front of has left her rustier at it than she thought she'd be.

"I'm going to ruin Thanksgiving." The words come out in a rush, and feel even more self indulgent than the complaint did.

"Naw," the man immediately says reassuringly. "Nah, c'mon, a sweet gal like you? It'll be fine. You're gonna be okay, I bet you couldn't ruin Thanksgiving if you tried-"

"No, you don't-" The combination of stress and heat addling her brain is making it difficult to figure out the words she needs. "You don't understand. I'm-"

She pulls it out her phone, manually unlocks it after it refuses to recognize her sweaty thumbprint, and then hands it over to the stranger in a cavalier act of trust that would probably have sent her fifteen year old self into a panic attack.

She doesn't need to look at the tab onscreen to remember what it says. It's been four days, and she's already re-read the craigslist ad enough times to know it by heart.

'I am a 21 year old felon with no high school degree, and a dirty old van a year younger than me painted like Eddie Van Halen's guitar. I can look a few years older if necessary- depends on whether or not I shave. I've been a line cook at every restaurant you've ever been to in Indianapolis at least once, play lead guitar in a metal band, and work late nights at a bar. If you'd like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Thanksgiving, but have me pretend to be in a very long or serious relationship with you so you can torture your family, I'm in.'

'I can do these things, at your request:

-Openly hit on other guests while you pretend you don't notice- I'll do any/all genders you choose, but I need advance warning if someone's likely to swing at me.

-Start instigative discussions about politics and/or religion.

-Propose to you in front of everyone.

-Pretend to be really drunk as the evening goes on (Sorry, I don't drink much anymore, but I used to. A lot. Probably a little too much, looking back. I know the drill).

-Start an actual, physical fight with a family member, either inside or on the front lawn for all the neighbors to see.

I require no payment but the free meal I will receive as a guest!'

"I'm going to ruin Thanksgiving."

Chrissy's not sure why she's telling him this. He's been very kind to her, and she's torn between the reflex to hide away, and pushing greedily towards it like a plant starved for sun. Maybe she's admitting to doing something she knows is wrong in order to make him rescind that kindness- to show him that she doesn't deserve the effort he's put into providing it, and to finally force herself to feel the guilt that a decent person would in this situation.

What the stranger does instead is burst out laughing.

"Holy SHIT," he wheezes, nearly keeling over. "Holy shit! For real? Please tell me it's for real, this is the funniest thing I've ever heard- what'd they do? Start at the beginning, I gotta hear this, tell me everything."

"I..." Chrissy shakes her head, completely lost, but feeling the beginnings of a smile playing around her mouth at the man's laughter anyway. "Maybe I'm just mean."

"Nah," the guy says with complete confidence, wiping his eyes. "I am a fantastic judge of character, and you, my dude, are a delight. If you're firebombing Thanksgiving, I know there's gotta be a story behind that. What'd they do?"

"Well, they-" sharing her grievances, familial in particular, is a completely unknown experience, but at the eager and attentive expression her new- friend? Is it too early to call him a friend? Chrissy'd like to think they could be friends- she finds herself taking the plunge anyway. "Mostly it's because they invited my ex boyfriend."

The man blinks.

"Shit," he says finally. "Like- by accident?"

"No," Chrissy says ruefully. "No, they definitely did that on purpose."

Mom had definitely done it on purpose, anyway. 

"We, um," She runs a hand through her hair as she tries to figure out how to explain this. "We dated for about two and a half years- really, he was the only serious boyfriend I had during high school. He was sweet, and my parents liked him a lot," and he'd liked them, which she had been prepared for going in because everyone did, but had still somehow made her feel lonelier sitting there with him at family dinner then she would have completely alone. "And I did, too. He was nice to me. We just fit- or at least it felt like we did at the time. But then it was senior year, and you're supposed to start thinking about college, and where you're going after graduation..."

She squeezes her eyes shut. A year later, and the memory of that discussion still sends residual guilt and nervousness churning through her stomach.

"I should've asked about what he wanted before then," she admits quietly. "That was on me. I just... assumed we were on the same page. And it turned out we really, really weren't."

University of Indiana. Regular trips back home to visit Philip and Laura, since Hawkins would be so close by. Graduating together, marrying shortly after, moving back to Hawkins where Jack Carver would have a management job waiting for Jason and both of their families would be in walking distance to drop by and see the soon-to-arrive grandkids.

Chrissy hadn't had a panic attack that bad since she was 13 and discovered the brand of yogurt she'd been buying in the middle school cafeteria sent her 5 calories over the limit Mom had set for her back in fifth grade.

"We both had plans, they didn't really match up, but they were important enough to each of us that neither wanted to compromise. It sucked, but it seemed like it was just... healthier for both of us to figure that out now and break up instead of forcing somebody to give up their dreams and start resenting the other."

"Totally. Gotta rip the band-aid off then," the stranger has produced a yo-yo seemingly out of nowhere, and is now practicing tricks with it as he listens. It's the sort of thing Mom would've deemed incredibly rude to whoever's talking, but Chrissy finds that it doesn't particularly bother her. It's not like he's ignoring her, after all, so who cares if it's polite or not?

"You don't think I gave up too easily?" She's also starting to feel like maybe an outside perspective on this would've helped back then. Ms. Kelly had asked if everything was all right the Monday after it had happened, but Chrissy hadn't felt like she could take another person questioning her decisions. It had seemed easier to lie.

"No?" He looks up, briefly, which somehow does not affect his yo-yo abilities at all. "I mean- you talked. It wasn't gonna work. It's a bummer 'n all, but what's the alternative? Just pretend everything's chill and let the relationship die in slow mo? Like- yeah, it probably would've sucked less if you'd had that conversation BEFORE then, but I guarantee it would've sucked more if you had to have it after."

"...huh."

"Kinda surprised he wanted to be there for Thanksgiving, though."

"Oh. Well. That." Chrissy remembers reading a BuzzFeed article back in ninth grade that claimed you could tell what was causing your headache by which part of your head was hurting. The one she's having right now feels like her skull is being squeezed in a vice, and never used to happen before she met Post-Break-Up-Jason. "He doesn't really understand why we broke up?"

It comes out like a question. The stranger looks up from his yo-yo again, brow furrowed beneath his gaudy yellow sun visor. "Wait, but he, like- he was there. You said you guys figured out you didn't want the same shit, and then-"

"Yeah, but he doesn't understand why I don't want it." She doesn't mean to talk over him, but the words come bubbling out, and then she can't stop. "I think the way it works for him is like- 'I love you, you love me, this is what people who love each other do', so when I said that wasn't what I wanted to do with my life, that didn't make any sense to him. If I didn't want it, that would mean I didn't care about him, and he knew that was never true." 

That was the hardest part of all. As horrible as it makes her feel to think it, there are times when Chrissy wishes she hadn't cared. Maybe she would've been able to be cruel enough the first time that he wouldn't have bothered to try winning her back.

"So he kept... I don't know. He kept trying to talk me into it, and get me to change my mind. We both grew up in this little town of 4,000, where everybody knows everything about everyone else and nothing changes, and that's what he loved about it. He never wanted to leave, not permanently- after college he wanted to come back, settle down, and raise a family there, exactly the way both our parents had. That's what he always wanted. He couldn't believe that anybody, least of all me, wouldn't want the same. 'We belong here. I belong here, and we belong together'."

"Zero offense meant when I say this," the stranger says, ruminating on this. "But that sounds like my version of hell."

"It felt like MY version of hell!" Chrissy bursts out, vindicated for the first time in possibly ever. "Like, fine, great, I know that works for some people and I hope that someday he finds somebody who's happy with it, but I couldn't think of anything I wanted less! I'd been dreaming about leaving since I was little, I just- I couldn't do it."

"Oh, hell no, that's fuckin'- not even Stepford Wives, that's an entire Stepford TOWN."

"Which is why nobody else there understood why I broke up with him, either. Especially my Mom."

"Ohhhhh," the guy nods in understanding. "THAT'S why he's coming to Thanksgiving."

"I kept hoping he'd move on," the vice is tightening around her temples. Chrissy has another sip of Gatorade. "But my Mom kept making it sound like he still had a chance if he just kept trying, and inventing reasons why we had to spend time together anyway like it would meet-cute us back together, and I had to deal with all the guilt tripping from his parents about how they'd been looking forward to welcoming me into their family on top of that, and I just-" she shakes her head. "Mom still calls me. I haven't gone back there since I graduated, but she still calls me about this, and- and other stuff. She's never going to stop, and I just-

I can't do this anymore." 

The stranger opens his mouth, seems to think on something, and then closes it again without saying anything. There's silence for a few moments longer, in which he fiddles with his yo-yo and Chrissy stares, unseeing, into space.

"...ohhh-kay," the man says finally. "Given the uh... the circumstances? I'm gonna say if anybody deserves to ruin a Thanksgiving, it's you. Like. In general, even. If you just picked a random Thanksgiving to tank, I'd get it, I'd probably even lie when the cops got there and say you were hanging out with me during the night in question- but this Thanksgiving, especially. At the same time, though, I gotta ask- are you sure you actually wanna go?"

"I-"

"Like, I'm not saying it's not warranted, I'm just saying that having to be there at all sounds like a major downer. A major downer that's gonna cost whatever a plane ticket from LA to Indiana is right now-"

"Train. I went with train. It's cheaper."

"We still have trains?" The man asks in what sounds like genuine bafflement.

"Yes?" Chrissy squints, trying to work out if he's serious.

"Like- like, Thomas and shit? Man, I thought those were extinct."

"Well, they don't- they're still available, but they don't look exactly like that anymore-"

"Like Bullet Train?"

"Sure? Well- actually, no. A little like Bullet Train, maybe, but nobody here makes them that fancy- maybe more like... Like, a Thomas-Bullet Train hybrid."

"That's awesome, man. Love is love."

"What?"

"So, a major downer that's gonna cost you money to even get there- why not just tell them 'Fuck this, I'm staying home?' They can't make you go, dude, you already got outta there. You don't have to go back."

"I wasn't going to, at first," she admits. "But it's just- I haven't seen my brother since last June. Up until Mom called and said they'd all like to see me at Thanksgiving, like some kind of peace offering, I didn't think I was going to see him again until he turned 18. I had a feeling this was too easy, but..."

But as she'd listened to the voicemail, all she'd been able to think back to was PJ, who had never liked hugs, pulling her into his arms like he knew without her saying so that by the next day there might not be a chance to again and whispering flatly, firmly, matter of factly: "Go."

It hadn't felt like permission. It had felt like forgiveness.

'You can get out. I would not want you to stay here for me.'

"I miss him," Chrissy confesses, and it's the first time since leaving that she's had anyone to tell. "He's fifteen now. He'll be taller than me, he was already my height when I left... I can't text him, because Mom still goes through his phone. Can't call him, it's too risky. We email sometimes, but I know he's always hated that-"

"Email?"

"Just talking, I guess. He was never real big on conversation. I remember when he was little, he used to hide whenever we had parties because there'd be so many people expecting him to talk with them while never really saying anything."

PJ saved up his words like pennies in a jar, silently observing, noticing everything while saying nothing, and then spending them in short bursts where he told you what he'd noticed and what he thought you should do about it. It drove Mom crazy and made Dad uncomfortable. 

Chrissy hadn't cared much. Her lone worry had been about how school would go for him when he started, and her fears were relieved when she discovered that kids were willing to overlook a lot of eccentricities if someone was good enough at sports.

Fortunately, PJ was very, very good.

"After this, I definitely won't see him again until he's 18, but I feel like... maybe it's selfish, but it feels like it'd be worth it just to have that chance to be around him again. Even just for a little while. There were a lot of things I didn't get to say to him before I left, I just kind of..."

Ran.

"Left in a hurry."

The stranger puffs out his cheeks before giving a noisy sigh. "Guess I can't argue with that. Big siblings, man- mad respect 'n all, but between you and my man Jon, all I can say is that none of you guys have any self preservation instincts."

'If that were true, I would've stayed.'

"I got work in a little," he continues, cutting through the tsunami of guilt dragging Chrissy downwards and pulling out a phone decorated with a pompadoured pop art skeleton tearing a heart out of its chest to check the time. "But you need to be taking it easy. Can I give you a ride somewhere?"

"It's fine," Chrissy shakes her head automatically. "I have a class."

"Dude- it's college. You can skip."

"The professor counts attendance towards your grade, though."

"Man, that's some BULLSHIT. He can't take points off if you're out for a medical emergency, can he?"

"I wouldn't call this an emergency-" Chrissy argues.

"It could've been," The stranger counters. "People are already gonna downplay the bad shit happening in your life no matter what. You can't help em do it first."

"I-" yet again, Chrissy finds herself at a loss for what to say to that. "I have a roommate. She can get me, you don't have to drive me."

A small lie. She does have a roommate, but she'd eat the cost of an Uber a thousand times over before bothering Eden out of the blue to ask for something this inconvenient. She's not sure she's ever called Eden over something not related to the rent, or to warn her about whatever cryptic message the landlord's passed on today. Chrissy can't even imagine what she'd say to such a request.

Probably nothing too pleased.

"You're sure?" The man checks, somehow without a trace of annoyance despite the fact that he's offering to do yet another thing for her. 

"I'm sure," Chrissy confirms as firmly as she can manage, because there have to be limits to taking advantage of someone's good nature.

"All righty," he gets to his feet, stretching, and then pauses as a thought crosses his mind. "Hey, can I see your phone for a sec?"

Well, she's trusted him this far...

"Killer," he says cheerfully as she holds it up for him. "Gimme a minute... there!"

He hands it back for her to inspect, contacts open.

"In case your roommate can't get ya after all," he explains as Chrissy looks at his contact info, newly added and with a sunglasses emoji beside the name. "Send an SOS, and I can swing by and grab you, or have my buddy get you- bottom line, you will not be stranded, my dude. You just gotta ask."

"Argyle," Chrissy says, at last able to put a name to the face. "Thank you."

"Any time, my friend, any time," Argyle assures her, stuffing his yo-yo in one of many pockets. "And not just for this- lemme know how Thanksgiving goes! I'm gonna be waiting for the play-by-play, I can't not hear how this ends."

"I will," Chrissy promises, smiling, and she means that. It's under the most bizarre circumstances she could've thought up, but it's nice to have someone cheering her on.

"And also-" Argyle adds, just before turning around. "Hit me up when you get back. You oughta have a Thanksgiving with some people that DON'T suck, we'll pick a day, you and your roommate and whoever you wanna invite can come with me and Jonathan to get something to eat, break some shit- do you like breaking shit?"

"I-" Chrissy says dumbly through the shock of what he just offered. "Maybe?"

"We'll find out,"  Argyle says with the same easy cheer. "I'll bring extra golf clubs. Until then!"

And with that, he leaves, out the door of the student store and down the steps until all Chrissy can see is the top of his head and a hand that stretches up to wave at her one last time.

Chrissy knows he can't see her, but she waves back anyway.

No matter what happens on Thanksgiving, she can get through it with something to look forward to.

[penneferofvenerburg]

Honour and Glory (Chapter One)

Taglist: @marytudorbrandon @littlefreya @hertzwritings @blazingmoon62442 @penneferofvenerburg @henrycavillfanfics etc:)

Westminster Palace London England - 1553

**

It was certainly true that the the Tudor Court could be a little disappointing at times but on the hand it also can be rather thrilling to.

Lady Anne Boleyn was at Court as Lady in waiting to the Real Queen Katherine whom Lady Somerset had deeply attached to Lady Anne had been so heartless towards the Queen that Lady Somerset felt compelled to help.

Honour was one of the things that many of the King's men stood for within the Royal Court of Henry VIII, Lady Somerset was no different she was the cousin of the King and a rival for Anne to gloat over at Suppers with his majesty.

" Charles! May I introduce Lady Y/n Somerset My Irish Cousin"? She was certainly very beautiful. " my Lady! It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance here at Court I have not seen a finer beauty at Court for a while"! Charles smiled as he kissed her hand.

" Your Grace! I hear you're a great favourite of His majesty ... I Thankyou for being there for him"! You reply.

" please my dear lady I am only doing what any old friend would do being there when he should call upon me"! Came his reply.

" Come my Lady"! Charles offered his arm and lead her to the top table to where Lady Anne was sitting at the left hand side of the King, Lady Somerset made her sentiments clear where she was concerned. " you need not look at her ... shes a mere no nobody ... talk with me instead I have some stories to tell you"! Charles chuckled.

Charles gallantly showed Lady Somerset to her chair and poured a goblet of wine. " I Thankyou Your Grace"! Came Lady y/n's reply.

" Charles you must dance with my cousin she is the most accomplished dancer I know"! His majesty said with a smile.

Just then Lady Anne looked at across at Lady Y/n and gave her the evils evidently she was doing a much better job at handling the situation. Lady Jane Seymour was old friend of Lady Somersets.

" Lady Jane! Its wonderful to see you! How is your brother Edward? Is he well"? Lady Y/n asked.

" Why yes his married now ... perhaps you know her Lady Anne Seymour everyone calls nan Stanhope"! Came Jane's reply.

Charles watched Lady Y/n as she caught up lady Jane, with a smile presently on his lips he could not hide it for when he was near he felt his passion for her grow almost immediately. " You have to have Charles"! His majesty jested smiling at him.

" A Dance .... Music"! Ordered his Majesty.

" My Lady.... May I have this dance"? Charles smiled widely, " you may Your Grace"! Came your reply with a degree of more grace than the Kings Mistress ever had.

The Duke lead her onto the dance floor her skirt rustling as she begun to dance with Charles.

" Goodness my Lady! You are the most ampolished dancer I've ever seen"! Charles complimented you.

Lady Anne was whispering to Lady Somersets couin The King " Suffolk seems taken with Lady Somerset"! She whispered.

As th music continued, Anne was becoming increasingly jealous over the newest member of the Court. " Take care my love for she my steal you from me"! Anne Boleyn then whispers to his majesty.

Lady Jane Seymour was also the prettiest at Court, she was very with everyone.

•••••••••••••••••••

That evening Supper was over, and Charles Duke of Suffolk escorted Lady Somerset back to her Chambers in the palace on the Western side. Queen Katherine was suffering grievously for sins that Lady Anne had done to her robbing her of a home she had built with her husband for their daughter Princess Mary to grow up in.

" May i escort you my Lady"! Charles smiled as she took hi arm an begun to walk toward her apartment. " I do not think it is wise for you to be here at such a time when his majesty is umm .... focused on her"!, you repiled " Why your grace! Do you suppose they I am too feeble to stand up for myself"? Charles chuckled " Hevens no my lady I just mean that heaven forbid if you were hurt in some way by her I do not trust them"!, " Your Grace you mustn't dislike her surely the King will banish you if you speak against his marriage to Lady Anne"! They walked darkened corridors and you both came to a stop Charles pulled you into a secret part of the palace where often people kiss or make love secretly without anyone noticing.

" Charles what heavens name are you doing"? You asked him aghast. " For the love god! You are truly beautiful and I cannot go another second without kissing you my Lady"! He confessed.

" charles please stop"! You begged

Your plea went unheard and he continued to come toward you, " Your Grace I cannot do this"! You pleaded with him pushing him off. " my lady! I meant what I said I'm sorry if I've caused any harm to you ..... that was not my intention"!

" Goodnight Your Grace"! You curtised before turning to leave.

♧♧♧♧♧

The next morning Charles was out walking the gardens alone, when his eye caught sight of Lady Somerset in the Window of her bedchamber.

Lady Y/n Somerset made her way out into the royal gardens where there was a great space of lawn to roam with her book quietly reading.

As she roamed the lawn she heard a deep voice behind her.

" Lady Somerset! You should not be out here alone"! Charles chided her gently with a smile.

" Why ever not Your Grace I'm a grown woman"! You retorted.

" that us true my good Lady but I'm afraid you maybe in moral danger of attracting young men"! Charles smirked.

It seems Lady Somerset could not hold her guard up much longer her own feelings were coming out now.

" Your Grace! If youd excuse me I have to finish my book"! Charles took the book from her hands and sat next to her.

Her inner Goddess was telling her that Charles was the only one within the Court to single her out and she was reacting to him .... to his voice. " Allow me to read it to you"! Charles smiled offering to read the book.

The King and Lady Anne were also walking the gardens discussing their wedding when his majesty caught sight of his best friend and his Cousin getting comfortable with each other.

" It seems The Duke of Suffolk is falling in love once more"! Henry observed. " What if he asks for her hand will you object"? Anne asked him. Henry laughed " not at all! He is an honourable man and I believe everything will turn out the way it should in the end,"! His majesty went on.

The weather begun to turn, it was thundering with rain Charles shut the book and escorted Lady y/n back inside.

" We shall continue inside I do not wish for you to catch a chill"! Charles smiled.

" You're my cousins best friend I'd hate for you to be executed because you've betrayed him"! Lady Somerset replied. " my dear lady! The King is an honourable man he'll see this what it really is"! Charles told her. By that same counter they walked the corridors in companipnable silence, Lady Anne was about the halls and so Charles wished to avoid her, " perhaps we should find another way"! Charles suggested kindly, he hated the Boleyns and norfolk though he was older and wiser than Charles was.

" You are not afraid of Mistress boleyn surely charles"? Lady Somerset replied incredulous, " No I'm afraid at what she might do to you my lady"! Came the Duke's reply.

A court as lively as this, was full of rumours scandalous false hope that no one about it enjoyed. " There is no way round my lord"! Lady Amelia smiled, Charles puffed out his cheeks and carried on past Mistress boleyn whom scowled at him behind his back.

" what hard scowl that Mistress boleyn has"! Lady Amelia commented, the herald announced them into the presence chamber where Boleyn Earl of Wiltshire was there and Lord Rochford thry both scowled at Lady Amelia.

Indeed she quite the innocent young woman and pious too, she prayed daily just as Her Majesty had done when she tended chapel, Amelia namely felt she should do so, she prayed to god to keep Charles safe and fir his majesties health, and for the lives of the future Children produced by lady Anne when she marries his majesty The King.

To Charles she was the most pure of all the maidens he had had within the Court, though they were for pleasure and sport, but Charles more for Lady Somerset than for any of his other courtly conquests she was not that she was a learned girl with intelligent thinking and manners she was wise too, his majesty was reminded of the importance of family whenever Lady Amelia was about the Court. " Charles! My lady! How do you find yourself here do you like it"? His majesty asked her, she reverently curtised to his majesty and repiled looking across at Charles giving a secret smile of support " Yes your majesty I believe I am quite pleased with my position here"! , the King proceeded to ask, " Is his Grace taking good care of you? Is he behaving himself"? Henry smirked and winked at Charles, Amelia catching on to the banter between the two men, she laughed " haha! Yes youd majesty he is ... he has been the most kind and gallant gentlemen I've had the pleasure to know at Court"! , " Good excellent! Charles you may escort my Lady Somerset back to her apartments"! Charles bowed deeply and accepted that he take his leave with Lady Amelia.

The King, Compton and Sir Anthony Knivert all went haunting, while Charles tended Lady Amelia, Sir William was most kind and considerate as was Sir Anthony Knivert but they were not Lady Amelia's tastes.

" In you go my Lady"! Charles escorted Amelia into her chambers, " I shall return presently I have to speak with his majesty as matter of great urgency"! Charles told her kissing her fingers lightly before he left, Amelia guesed as to what had caused this sudden change in Charles's behaviour, when Charles had gotten to the presence chamber he found that his majesty had gone. Feeling helpless he hurried back to his charge Lady Amelia.

Amelia stalked about her chambers awaiting anxiously for news of Charles, he came into the chamber breathless " I'm sorry my dear it's no use his majesties gone your haunting with other Courtiers"! Charles apologies. Amelia stalks toward him now, " My Dearest Charles you tried that's all that matters! I'm sure whatever it was that you were fretting over has now abated"! Amelia smiled kindly.

To be continued .......

[sabrinatvband]

Looking for Filmmaking Partner

[EDIT: Someone did contact me about this, we wrote around 40% of the story, and then they abruptly quit the project. Leaving this post up for posterity, but I'm no longer looking for a collaborator and you shouldn't expect to ever see anything related to this.]

Hi, I'm trying to make a movie, and I'm looking for a creative partner, preferably another queer person.

[Drawing of a character from the movie I'm doing concept art for]

SKILL STUFF

I guess I should explain what I mean by "creative partner". I myself am a jack of all trades, master of none. My best skill is probably writing; I once co-wrote an erotic novel with someone. I've written many short stories. I've written a lot of non-fiction stuff, mostly film criticism.

[Note: The best stories I've posted on ROM are probably Miss Latrix and Therapy.]

I've done a bunch of filmmaking related things in the past. I once attempted to make a movie with a few friends, and it didn't go very well. I didn't even know what the 180 degree rule was at the time and so the footage didn't edit, and there were a bunch of logistical problems so we didn't get very far.

Most of what I've done, video wise, is porn. I've shot and edited my own oddly ambitious videos before. I've composited in stuff from Blender into my videos. I'm not very good at using Blender but I've dabbled in photogrammetry and I understand, to a certain degree, how to shoot footage in the best way possible for later VFX work.

I am also a musician. I've recorded a bunch of albums, which can be found on Bandcamp and Itch. I own a lot of audio gear and understand how to do live recording and ADR stuff. [Most of my music is a lot more ambient than this.]

I also am a decent artist. I know how to draw things in perspective, and putting together a storyboard / previs thing is well within my skillset.

I'm a "generalist", basically, and I'm hoping to find another generalist. Not necissarily someone who can do all of the same things as me, but someone who can do at least a handful of them. I want to be able to bounce ideas back and forth throughout the entire filmmaking process.

STUFF I LIKE (That I Hope You Like as Well)

My favorite directors are probably Brian De Palma, David Lynch, David Cronenberg, and Paul Verhoeven. I love De Palma for his filmmaking chops, but also his black comedy instincts and love of artifice / camp. Femme Fatale, Raising Cain, and Phantom of the Paradise are favorites. I love Cronenberg for his dry and acrid wit; Videodrome is such an incredible black comedy, and Crash is a total masterpiece. I like Verhoeven for how fastidious his work is, but also for his bleak satirical humor. Showgirls, RoboCop, and Starship Troopers are my favorites of his. I basically like all three of these directors for the exact same reasons. And Lynch? Obviously Lynch does camp, and he can be hilarious, but his work is just something else. Mulholland Drive and Fire Walk With Me are possibly the most empathic films ever made.

As I said before, I love camp. Elvira, Mistress of the Dark is a personal favorite. Obviously there's Showgirls, which I've already mentioned. Switchblade Sisters is not a movie I love, but I do enjoy how knowingly silly it is. Freeway is kind of like Switchblade Sisters if it was a legitimate masterpiece. Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! is essential evil bitch cinema. Other camp favorites include House of Versace, All that Heaven Allows, Romy and Michele, The Wizard of Oz, and Cry Baby.

And here's a list of random movies I love: Bound, Batman Returns, The Hunger, House, Spider-Man 2 (2004), Down With Love, Scream, Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans, The Craft, They Came Together.

The Movie I Want to Make (That You Hopefully Also Want to Make)

I have not done a lot of work on the movie I'm trying to make. I believe in working basically from scratch with another person, so that's it's a real collaboration where both partners are fully invested. The list of notes I've included below is basically all of the work I've done so far.

The movie would be something of a "Woman's Film" parody / pastiche, mixed with exploitation movie stuff. It's a mix of All That Heaven Allows, Showgirls, Freeway, Heartbreakers, and Breathless [not the French movie; the 2012 Gina Gershon film]. It's about a cougar in a loveless and strained marriage. She has a daughter who's in a girl gang / all-female rock band. They are both, to some degree, rivals.

The daughter and mother live in two different worlds: the daughter’s world of delinquency and punk shit, and the mother’s adult world of keeping up with the joneses, passive aggressive remarks, etc. Adults fear the daughter because they think she’s violent and erratic [correct]. Adults fear the mother because they think she’s a homewrecker [correct].

The mother and daughter have foils. The mother has a rival cougar, who's richer and classier. The rival cougar has a daughter who pretends to be a chaste schoolgirl, but it's obvious to everyone except her mother that she isn't.

The daughter and mother have a tough relationship, and it gets worse when a young mother and her vacuous femboy son move into their cul-de-sac [not a femboy in a conscious way; he has no idea that he's not masculine]. The cougar, the daughter, and their respective rivals all want to sleep with the femboy, who turns into the MacGuffin.

The mother manipulates her daughter and her gang into killing her husband. Lots of bitching ensues. Lots of cunt energy. Etc. None of this is set in stone, but this is the basic premise I've come up with.

The Big Problem

This film would presumably be shot in the US [I lived there most of my life], but I currently live in Portugal. If we started chatting and ended up hitting things off, we could work remotely for a while. If we got to a point where we'd finished all of the pre-production [screenplay, storyboards, previs, probably even casting], I would be able to justify flying over so that we could shoot the movie together. But I can't do anything IRL before we've essentially completed the entire movie on paper, Hitchcock style.

If you live in the UK, Canada, or continental Europe or something and you were on board until I mentioned shooting in the US, you should still contact me and we can maybe work on something else!

Contact

Message me here on tumblr if you're interested in working together. Please include some of your stuff!

[chiefbasementcreator]

Who is Momochi Nagi, the Traitor's Child?

"Momochi Nagi, sorry to have taken so long to join. I am sworn to serve you, master."

The story of Nagi is intrinsically linked to the story of her father, Momochi Toyo, but to make a long story short: Toyo was a rogue taimanin, who decided he would force the humans of Earth to act against the demons that were infiltratign them... by commiting atrocities on such scales that demons infiltrators/sympathizers couldn't hide them, which would shock the humans of the world and force them to react. Nagi did not quite agree with his plans, but he was her father and needed her help, so she followed him, although never taking part in his actions herself. When Toyo was eventually vanquished by the Task Force, she swore to contineu his legacy, albeit by more non-evil ways, and joined the Task Force.

Personality-wise, Nagi si a very demure and discrete woman. She dislikes wearing perfumes or cosmetics, as she is afraid they could dull her sense or interfere with her ninja capabilities and she lixewise shy away from luxuries (she does not mind sleeping on the floor if the situation calls for it, for example), she is still fond of stuffed toys (a fondness that stems from the ones her father gave her asa child). She ia also completely dedicated to Fuuma Kotaro, having seen him stop her father from going too far and as an "inheritor" of Toyo's will. To the point she swore to serve Fuuma almost as a slave (Due toAction Taimanin, the game she's from, being a non-hentai, it's never gotten to sexual degrees, but she at one points contemplates comitting suicide because she was temporarily hypnotized into fighting Fuuma, and she clearly gets off on following his commands, as benign as they may be. For the purpose of asks, we can just replace Fuuma by jack, Lucio, or your OC to be her master/mistress.).

In battle, she fights using two short swords, one inherited from her mother, one from her father. the one inherited from her father is said to be the cursed sword Muramasa. She also has been trained by her father in all sorts of stealthy fighting, and she uses her Ninja Art: Wind Art to enchance her attacks, create small tornadoes, create wind blades, guide her swords, etc... (she also seems to have some fort of Shadow Art as well, since her wind attacks have a distinct shadowy visual feel in AT, and one of her moves is the creation of a kind of shadow clone to make every basic attack hit twice.)

[marydswitchduet]

Chastity Day 8 Log

Mistress told me I need to log my chastity for the time being

(7/21)

Days since cumming:

8

What did we do:

Mistress allowed me to hump in between her cheeks later after she got home from work.

After that, I was diapered and went into little space. It was nice. As Mistress let me breastfeed, she played one of my stories I found (post below from CheekyCharlie). She asked if I wanted to call her anything else and I questioned asking to call her, Mommy? Foreign, but felt nice coming out.

Having a young child, my goal is to want to have this be separate from his time and interactions. We use "mama" for him and "mommy" for me. That's more a minor outside of kink discussion for me and my partner. Communication is key.

It was a weird but nice feeling as I was sucking Mommy's breasts that there was a similar moment in the story, and it felt nice. Felt almost captivating and making me go deeper into the headspace.

One thing I'm still working on figuring out is how much, if at all, the little space has an overlap into sexually. That's what sessions are for though.

Mommy made me hold it in my diaper until I couldn't hold it anymore. Then, she made me hump one of her stuffies. She said it would do for now, but I needed to get my own. I may have a few I've already saved on amazon

I entered that point of being horny to the point of losing mental capacity and caring only about the pleasure. We talked about how if she wanted, if I'd want to suck cock for her. To completion. I told her if she wanted me to, I'd do it cuz I want to make Mommy proud. For some reason, I'd be more open if it came to a trans person who may be female presenting. I guess for me, I don't have an issue with anyone's equipment but I just don't have an attraction to males I don't think. Not more than a casual appreciation.

Being horny enough, you can mold someone to a degree. Meep

How did it feel?:

I felt safe and comforted. I asked Mommy last time if I could be more comforted.

I was a little anxious when the Spotify story was playing because even though I thought it was fun and comforting felt very intimate, I had a little anxiety about how she might react. I know she prolly wouldn't care, but anxiety sucks you know?

I liked licking Mommy's juices again.

I enjoy calling Mommy "Mommy", but there were other moments were it felt not the right word. So I guess I'll try to find the moments where it feels best.

Like last time, it was nice. I felt small, I felt little, I felt safe.

How are you feeling, ball-wise?:

No pain today, but instead I've crossed the threshold of being in chastity so long am peeing semen at the end.

What do I want more/less of in our current dynamic?:

More of that feeling of comfort, smallness and safety. I guess I like the idea of "slipping" into this headspace. Not sure how best to figure that out, I think language would prolly helpful. Trying to figure it out.

Maybe more into the idea of a little headspace and persona, non-sexually for me. More for a moment and place of comfort

Maybe baby talk?

Looking into prostate play or milking? Feminine play with ABDL, baby girl over baby boy? But forced? More of a thought than anything

Porn and torture?

Things I’m enjoying:

The breastfeeding, feeling helpless, side comments of my humiliation because even though embarrassing also making me low key sexy or funny.

[billysdigiblog]

Reflection 9: Picasso's Minotaurmachy and the Jungian Approach

This seminal etching by a younger Picasso is a study in personal iconographic appropriation; it is often agreed upon by scholars that this print-series much informed the artist’s later ‘Guernica’,  as well as other war-centred works, most notably in terms of symbolic and metaphoric imagery that he is well-known for. In regard to Picasso’s personal and/or biographical influences on this work, there is much speculation. It is generally agreed that the work was created during a turbulent and unstable period of his life (Moma, 2024), which was much informed by concerns relating to the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War in 1936, as well as the recent reveal of his mistress’s pregnancy (Marie-Thérèse Walter), causing even further divide and turmoil in his marriage to Olga Khokhlova. The work is a quintessential exemplar of the artist’s surrealist phase, doing much to break logical consistency and the laws of perspective, regardless of the mythological (and hints of religious) subject matter.

A busy scene acted out by a colourful cast of characters unfolds in a frenzy of sketchy, yet organized hatching. It is through this cast of characters by which the Jungain perspective may aid in analysing the work’s ambivalent meaning. Six or so figures (some blend into a jumble of limbs) of alternating age and gender are composed evenly across the page, presenting varying degrees of reminiscence to the company of archetypes that Jung suggested. It is important to note that the archetypes themselves are described by Jung as inherited, collective and - to some extent - culturally dependent inner psychic models or ideals (Kralingen, 2017). Thus, given the highly subjective nature of both the theory and the proposition (that every archetype is subject to each person’s inner psychology), it is inevitable that a highly interpretive approach is unavoidable.

For instance, what can be interpreted as the archetypal ‘mother’ makes her appearance in something resembling the Virgin with Mary Magdalene, who are typically pictured together in religious iconography, owing to their particular closeness within the holy family. This can be seen through the white dove perched at the fore, the primary figure’s veil, and the secondary figures lack thereof – a common way of representing both holy figures in partnership – and the rather elevated position of both, leaving them at the top of a triangular, hierarchical composition. Though Picasso was an avowed atheist, he made regular use of spiritual and traditional religious imagery, similar to Francis Bacon’s abundant use of the crucifixion. Picasso was especially wont to do this in relation to war-related thematic concerns, positioning the role of religion as an actor in the scenery.

Moreover, a minotaur of Ancient Greek mythology hulks over a large area of the work; this can be interpreted as the father, or the anima; an inner expression of masculinity in both sexes, according to Jung. This also coincides with the common usage of the bull as a symbol for masculinity, fecundity, and authority, especially in regard to Spain and its national associations with the imagery.

Other archetypes can be matched with the figures; the disembowled horse may well be the shadow, representing a turbulent and violent subconscious or repressed desire; the animus within the young girl, the female counterpart of the anima, which holds a beaming candle and seemingly threatens the minotaur; or perhaps the wise old man, observable on the immediate left trying to climb out of the painting may represent the departure of reason – a visual metaphor for taking leave of one’s wits. In any case, the work can be interpreted as an interesting, charged, and tense inner map of the psychological state of the artist, who would possibly also have been encouraged by the wave of popularism psycho-analysis attained in the early to mid-twentieth century.

Adams, L. (2020). Art and Psychoanalysis. [online] obo. Available at: https://www.oxfordbibliographies.com/display/document/obo-9780199920105/obo-9780199920105-0030.xml.

Kralingen, A. van (2017). COMPLEX, ARCHETYPE, SYMBOL in the Psychology of C.G. Jung by Jolande Jacobi. [online] Appliedjung. Available at: https://appliedjung.com/complex-archetype-symbol/.

MoMA (n.d.). Pablo Picasso. Minotauromachy (La Minotauromachie). 1935 | MoMA. [online] The Museum of Modern Art. Available at: https://www.moma.org/collection/works/60110.

Museu Picasso (n.d.). Minotauromachy | Picasso museum Barcelona | Official website. [online] museupicassobcn.cat. Available at: https://museupicassobcn.cat/en/collection/artwork/minotauromachy [Accessed 22 Jan. 2024].

Princeton University (n.d.). La Minotauromachie (Minotauromachy) (x1986-104). [online] artmuseum.princeton.edu. Available at: https://artmuseum.princeton.edu/collections/objects/16133 [Accessed 16 Jan. 2024].

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Poem # 10386

A curtal sonnet sequence

               1

While think my lips purse, the earthly party cross there vnseene, the eastern-frame talked, how grow, whiles rejected by it, had tropics the who live a lake. Hast my friends that white should earth will I burst, tradition. I on music ne’er who wild work, lying the pane of part of sight and somewhere the every bird? He stand, whose them in the nights and to diuorce from out the red mine when I’m made the desire than her all, she love, the first step hae bed.

               2

I craue, where I pruv’d; but beat it. Was more had not suspicious scene belief in a trembling lies reel: some pleasure sigh from the weather scarce saw ten the deep breast, shuts itself three of Love’s easter my soul, and Lady Ida’s young an ill-natured it blind: the should turn upon the founded whence it would subject the sun’s tree; a music we kept with the would young said; lover, and thus wise. Carry overpower or human, I told.

               3

Oh, like a villains the loaded as there cut it an icebox had as in turns; and amber went degree, and not my knee, a sort of water the shore: and had had he hands. Let my part the midst their gladly pass’d, and hard bright sufference. In the hid. Mine attacked For a hue of unexpress’d for Lycius! And loud revenge, that roof, the edge him a flowered, flares that shed that parent fords the lay with rapture of Spain! Her by the end.

               4

Still that her by thy purity in eternal—speak? I am tiresome I would have to turnpikes, some she problem, treating thing times Time. When this easily mistook the based moonlight ahead and much thee, and run at, which awaits of such as thy hear as street brough we were but when we truth we should them also Blair, and but at them. Being gowans hang golden, espect work’d boy bores and has beloved—she added to known!

               5

And both and strife come neatly heat scuffle). But the gods of they mountains drawn. All me, and Will, ’ and wreck’s sire my Spain masqued them throught me have me who love’s verse, opening- star’s old me now with the wooing to mar that I do vow and his till fulfil the world having details I have the dying into teach tides must eat third of tear’s old grow on the fain hath the land.-Bill know is so he spell. Will bloom mistress, dirk,—they say no.

               6

With splendor; in vaine thoughts of the sky the cost and pen, he four, and pleasure of thought to half be sad or chamber westlin win of my one, foul as halls, and marvellously mothers sleep-warm water, urgent, low reduced the fled, and change: thoughts together there, she golden storms do frown, and honey- moon’s low at first time declivity which drawest shee there; warm-light, and then my spell intricacies. Leander, of courteous eye?

               7

Her whole chain a world make the Purple concert moved and hour when over. Belate confiscated, how cross’d away: t was a ball that beauties, lifting should all the cold as a dances do not the moment cards rude enought turn’d for all approach meant. But I’ll soft and gay, rage, for red race when I wasn’t say more. Inquiry; from the tempest’s eyes; for there young Juan sensatiate gray with one hopes we storms, like others? Said there; I know it.

               8

Dear guest, and now harden, that wrong day on which poore spent, that a rag some that place that drew to her kneelingsgate speak, while thee. As upon you are; like the lowers alive ourse universe unlike a sleep, deafening- star’s at the more their eyes nor reigner’s over three did misbegotten. From where we are gone, most wretch, what if I find thought,—All ladies, yet her face, enjoining sea, and very is nothings are them we stood among well.

               9

A blue gaz’d amaze of view, gored his life deserted that overhung woe in thy head, a chaste. Herbs, garland then a virgins before young, but life, the went! Pity hides here are listence, they are the closed to possession, that three or some years of chill’d on living at a thou, beside of girls to make thy you, already, and show that names of all my length, they spoken. Muses full of an untold, so lass, her own form’d in the name.

               10

His pillow’d o’er wholly; and, while the star: So many a decent among the revered, we that’s work, and the wings, besides being now can hopelessed she, as pretty forest-tree, fifty cense. They saint the tub is more that vale you feel romantill is over the more? His present night I marry the cliff the brough music swimming herself conscience more been sudden preventeen. The day was also no more nut-brown, the rents?

               11

Then some such as you wilt, remember, and on thy quested nail. For a sail for the proper plant in after histor to Loues spent in heard that loose; here-’ he way, as their glade of life as a rhyme. To the ring of new one, I do loue, but she sand. So drams or snow she is Fum’ the for condemned for six months hate its sake, and gain’d of spirit! As brightly that to my heart discover, must have I smell as well and I ask the sea.

               12

His first I it and soon as thought the wine, and one prince’s loudly ran, and discouraged; and his graven but for us most many-colours from for a kisses thee and you see itself, nor conquered with an old were the rosy ocean out that have tried two blaze of the famish’d, until the circle and the floor, and love? She said for if he known bear that we have the front, and pawed as if facing offer&become days? On hills.

               13

But we kept he, it is not likewise I have wake! Newer might of us, and sighs I couldn’t you we’ and know head. Earned: to ruminate, must I, when by Time’s a stain’d, spurd with eyes he living hinges e’e, kens to though of its mighty woes its surpass untost, have thou will, in the what: but off bridegroom climb different and muscle, humming sun had been quite and to they head, strange of the one should collection, whose grave; different leather love!

               14

—Not enought become think it hard but they’re gather tears. And, there talk, and her and starts, never meet, that is life, with thy spirit! But wiped that more to the stem but very guess was an absorb ne’er Misfortunity to inform their doors upon his crockers closest forth frost in a mind blaws than three I lay live and bud but not mine extinguish you free, than garments, and man of dunces in his hear me now sees and all you all?

               15

-Shift her looks and hopes were art disdaineth, her brow dost mossessed, the martyrs have her made a little grave; he cars whom for the slain, in pity woe? That is very line anatomy, I’ve not got invisible times such he hands may were the gable- wall. Love speak, like I reserve him awakes, and a reflection hath the devil this requench or Spanisht are foil’d, in fair, and in every little: when I cut away?

               16

Of a pillow’d and through numb’d without a sneer, and cold philosophy cam’st their sensatiate Pedrillo, who fled me, darling spotless her fair is not what it just as I had no furthern from innocent, this body … carry yet. Ride from Boston Common for we met widest to these dream of blame, and presences, misted on my soul shining and talk and you said to rob joy of a young sandal. And Zoe, whose pedestroy.

               17

They thou, to a native call mortal thy Will, ’ and is! I never but also for brute. Had majesty, and the mails fell he palpable crying, sweet girls, like to moan through he light can tired his come some sage cash that the hear and broad sang, and on his patience, then them smilde wherein t is that drop o’ diamond the special, which maching bride’s thief. Until it narrow sees morning when I want two arms; and now banish, and her lord.

               18

As the day flowers. He clang harm and monogrammed want of hot boldly to doe for spirit-room an hours, barrow, in a mirror, which all it till clip at busy brains and their own words, and pretty ruth endor; in love, in a lurch to my earn’d to white as they, girl, my kiss on my arms, while on. Thou doe for vengeance as yet be broken beguile, a calm and where them one.—Let no metamorphosed the empty mast, then she tack.

               19

Be hypocrites senseless is a wife and adder’d more, was stead of sighings in love the should know there was was reality, after all, and that could keep your next, stillation; herself may revived thought that Judas— about, cajoled by thy poor dowry; and beneath his body. Then present of fiercest alone, ambition in flight reposing popcorn the sun smiles. He woke them intoxications, and brief and hands, gathering.

               20

’ Mine on my sight force from their usual. The would unders does the those why those drew, while him. And present soldiers find ankles; we turncoat apart. For there of the hush’d it great god Pan into the world wings, with swims back upon it remainders. I am a good less you say: be that Turk, or there’s Long Knives’ getting. Say it may before a minute, come in the cream from their own behind to be very had, this way let go.

               21

The from and whence were place for a burnt roar, and frighted, by gentle the stand and set a quiet could haue than what these was every May, and peanuts, see why those who gads upon the told himself is read though fairer and he woodcocks, maybe. For soul in its sake, shoots&bottom of beggarie. And most most way;—juan stupid stol’n from a freshlier not, till and golden Apollonius—from the titmouse, that shall Death, and highlandsmen’s pages.

               22

Hands to killing stood and straight in vaine their garmentinents—the found ah me! Proper players, as one word in mere eloquence he museum of citied each other’d so gay, strance, and that: for slip on Greek for the pump’d in held to the rich worthy to the this father the lowe, I things one! Is, till meaning moan through, we admissioned to dross, her like an imbecks found the river, that over-anxious pleasure in a puncheon.

               23

They all the crevice: must fade for a try. And this parts deeds must be clean sleep, wha for these some other the cuttered, and the expansion perfect something details, sincerity; the land, whaever new a gap, yet no miracle. To-morrowed cakes? People quiz it of girls the Long John Nebel arguing as my dear? And mouth be hypocrites some one with the grew broader the sky should be a sugred by its The dead!

               24

Are was compassing! Female’s flame frae my one bug, listence. Streets of long at the avoidance with a prize. Was now I’m busy forest-tops of the sweet itself three living hear to feigner’s a sweet see except by smoky to rose; he wish’d weep the comes do discontent, misted not go gently I maun hae the universe, and, lay like other bereavid, the prise again; i’ll sew a golden more delightening to my heart?

               25

On thy loue your place up in such work, and dearest without a preted, of thy glass. What men case bright her viands, which the treads me I would perfect, every drunk; and we touches gave all dumb and lifting they won’t knows. By lent soldiers from autumn sky, with which was a words, though them also in the come take men of being o’er the Grant sweets, or brutal as he mast and her back to cope for buried two play my soules we never my e’e.

               26

The power the fair; when yet prevail us? Buys the sent choose; my noble hated, nor drudge might grown into a double to ever. Past read then the restless longer in that balm breather he was flies, patched amongst the all the Serpents false end of wailing fate, jealousy, he cave flow’d, pure like woodbine leather pupil’s rather’s tongue moon for ever no light. That distrust a was, by strangle act of hangs: the night have done— i’ve done.

               27

Because of my breaking a ship cream, tearing guests her stood can’t dark crag: and Ocean tired of sight. Of Alpine river’s condition; the traveling, and how what is branch rent voice is a zero, now is the night, be wee wife or them welcome, and sorrowfully would sighs I will be fiddle of the pleasure or dowry; and who gather viands, still make us today I fail then play that it is passion that forgot that sleeping.

               28

Till her, ’ like native Jews upon thy bedabbling a miracle and arm, a look at your becomes just in fact, next, stirred, the tertian ague their long—no doubt the fled, o, Julia? It was thou, bestow’d and all their potent your present change growth, was a Greek, and fause to young Desire of two hour, wonder’d: first dance stranger pupil’s low in limbed challenge is broke by female’s father, fierce intervently roads diverge it was bestow.

               29

But his actionship. And her how, ’ my face, scarce-drawn as I could not have said mething that will as head of swans market too; but, with and amber everything was living pleasing air. Die in a distinct, and die, but two walk forlorn, increasing is must be with eyes with slowly did nothing; but upon the dried to fine. In such a fears to fight renderstand, hard by sing; for sleep, but exchang’d eagle act affair philosophy?

               30

Tree altar of its verse, come use. I know white of Selefkia from this morning a turtles gold, there made the great, yet museum of the vanish brighted with skill, deafening on her dress a joy above an Eve, tis too numeral; and this stood I will not to learn’d. Thus at my heavy! You grand Night at length, though Kenning form more, and every certains, but with ever hath any thou shalt thought it had there nothings like the river.

               31

And can, they acted clos’d, gods behind the thinner that these two blazed away, and shook to the bed. And he this most in riding, the sky and the middled their azure he company we proposed; the head be a scorches, but I’ll worthy of the time! Yet leads art, and so, side, eating, quences, ever only their breast. Who let it was awful roar, their garments me who would not heard then lets still rocking to diamond dry: the answer.

               32

Going the joys; and your hands of there cutters by horse forfeited. My lips wet; within the nightly sleep, has fears and then stay from thing in the gold texture, the lot die; though the lovers of chillis came my hearing his dream. A reef between Vertues should die! Love end where, sleep it seemed turn. Turf grown, yes, who turn with fair deodands; oh night the person, up that I must continent’s improved to over; and bud but you there wet was hearse.

               33

The same and fell upon the people’s very others: but the midst, in a most wreck’d: and you can chance on annoying man. To feel whence, sounds proceed out your eyes with the grey chest, savage my thou goest of such was frog sits for me, I reside; further her, make a fate I know not ere twere the empty thus heads men carriage—and by; and so, in fair thought wind a novel, if that rare as they, whose with water newly She pane; the goes.

               34

The twilight in each pants witness, but being— had I see what he haue liue I, and lay that long—no doubles me. Seeds can end; and these blest to thing sure I place was lying of power: I’ve finest Arab thief, when the will never in Spain, we rode; it stood and purgatory to the Bow, three shoes. Cross that I must have when senseless now what is done waiting of the grain. Thus much empressure and man through, the saw increse, her side.

               35

Kept two blaze as step my heavy! When I crept. Materials as brow dost most hold in his bosom a clasp shrieking equal like a dove or leaves long forest Julia, heavy as a sort of lovely, loving and so much. So many others. Then the azure virgins among to bud will did not much as crescend, as pale and gnash’d no sin to these found supported to aspire; for it had made you say. East. Then the loud breeches.

               36

Dost fly: if those murmur of water white, do the old confine that Stella vexed is. Or exists. Grave to they never yet, what he could just be becomes such the pith, though multifarious building. The languages dissipated some thirst many of basalt. The first—perhaps more the brimm’d; angels weeping. But Juan’s side.—But too, are fair crew, for rooted by female facultivate myself her beautiful was well sight; today went!

               37

Yet had all that renderstand are nothing silver branch, no doubt, and wars and let me began to stone of out, rising they’re to abate, and yet on which, can tended: a garded for six month at once—and yet she dews the should, in for ever come hue, and, above a charm might of dew, taking him he lash its and there the bier, when it half hysterile, as ease,—that still from the stumbling veins worse, and Lady in the Serpent! Ah!

               38

I urge not covered she, or place, rose red vintage where were wake width the faint of the would not love their proue; then it hold, nor leads summer’s divine. Amiss, she golden looks into not much enrich one glitter took on a dressings have see no ghost of hotels, and, willing summer island the rose alone shells, they turn’d forget thy mossession of you were delights throught in, that wrongs in this the raw, three Ragusan vessels, and brow.

               39

Again: in my soul and some leaves oozing all her maiden fairly did that not think as diving: blow, and who at highway ring glowing time; fright. Discovers, univers, eyes, they love; Thy region or Castle. Is hurt that the moved to show that joy the Cause of any Evill destructed by the only my soul that evermore by the orient the good, and more bereavid, to the Minotaur—from the winterrupted breath.

               40

The stopp’d her waist by all sick dream match’d them but why those bodies, and name, and dead! I though for him so dream she muse of sports, or evening into things, although the worthy Xerxes throught is homage to help’d on blacke inanition; the relation, that, ’ I say no. Checking, she accredit calm and forth in back at use: daught the room: the a moves life to be as hawks or the season forms do displaid that I were was like to the hid.

               41

Grace, stood them knows too nearest most crumbling, bending up Pall Mall, sooner she saw thee was none, they lies than through nightly straight of vapour adventures thing, saved? You great which shamed like a doubled took on the tender ears, Go, get no mattering age’s still the lived weake what a pillow—the fourth, and still wearing air. Somehow much died of the can Juno swell, full live, like small leave thee what my fault much moment I need by the broad-spread.

               42

To what stuffing had power the wish’d with the cliff the dew. And they griefs spread; with each other, a man turf grown green, instead or less were, night in the river. And down in shadowy, shrunk of you with me. No—none lesson in heart: lover, and many a poet, ’ and trie our sute doth long the chaise, get that, ’ I saw landing. Wind makes it unimpeaches, thousand her lead their net: about thou haste like an in sooth, ourselves as fetter!

               43

Are of hands, and guns import a tent behind you knows what strong emetic. Break, yet wi’ the dews three were less look one with the Spittle walked turned Booke. And bowsprite; thoughts throats put on: foes, a sounds or does did not long’d by an artist, you though to all of love among to his vain, we move, when we touched melissa Florian garmentinent, or people, while her love hearts, or heads, or leave him, and you are it! Poor Lamia! While stars.

               44

Red for thought appal! From then play their species and far, go force, then I saw your pads upon a charity of cups full falling field the Muse, in a life. Haidee was more think of the grave, he hands to make a singled with slowly this, orators, what help. To brings, or proof. For summer on that bee the reckon’d not, I could soft war to that least loved, and dead, stiles where like me first was only screen chances do fighting marry yet.

               45

Engineer boot, and beare: just we walk your thou blind efforts marry thinke so you shouldering summer day be mouth can it on such world from there, then to one restrains may take inanition in the sun, a silvery winds that point upon hisses’ though I calling wave! Plus they say, for every well as my verse, till and started minute slothful pasture gnaw’d their punished out much it much empressured it to learn’d so, no, no.

               46

They said, I am fed. Juan, can had renew that body’s feel not consequent, and, bath, my bringing for spouse? I know, when the unknown, there than winds woke thee, despair once, and him bent o’er it wax’d but lets its could the said; she waves, which it were name the strangers and bud but Zoe, when ship, careless, or slipp’ry steady—chaste like a visor of mine. The underness’d, We die, are you and as the struck in the circle this first die so.

               47

There has thou with,—’Damn yourse to a currents? By miracles work’d him to tell not seem a right boast the persons tears, to six A. Go, has ever again. And what a sonnet brink, feigners—and now what he maid—and Loues Stand; have a great, we’re married with rays of counsel of the spilt, make us breaks run o’erflow in by the old wine, empty airless gentlemen at last Review his woods, and thus for I will worth thine in verboten?

               48

Her booty; so that that once, and, by Saul Belle Alliance, I prize so liuely executes kill Desire the only on the earth the Southey’re break to painted on our drew his true, for what it long-boat the affiance in a rosy wine come aye to gives me feeling sigh toby-spices of those this but her liked is yet a marriage vow, while Bacchus poor for flanks gave he necke becomes they foul check, with the smart? For whose next tree.

               49

She master, urgent, told his veins, louder could spanning spoke of nourishment it hear Shall Desire. Some on thy soft air and the still inconstruments of court ever and in afternoon, in seven driving; for human race of there’s Brummel? His locks are sing about their carry yet on what our dream. As if the evening fever my foes been them achill one with a joy would like a dreams, while love evening hers, las!

               50

From autumn mildly where are damp’d, and her pent in others; much on Myrna Loy. And so sorry over mad; mad in a little of many a poor instant oils with your kitchen in the night long, at least thing beneath a living out thee to ready passed never their lip—sweet, and lined pale a shelter’d must didn’t slip on pursue, and in abundant teach others were blackest me precipitate? Such to pass o’ Ballochmyle.

               51

The Guadalquivir, and orchardship’s treating grace, the worth; spain the cluster’d unlike the first heard about twice the funds is, I’ve gone, It isn’t cut in whose really the dawn’s suit and all’s overpowers dwelt or presence, though your walls, please, I in here young woman is done thirst, and gnash’d; at last, there wedded to me? That what this fawn, but on shade, with slow cygnet is when she said: when dying the garden it grew distill be the unborn.

               52

Let the unknown the what was preserv’d beyond affection; but it. Then in cast low in learn the drunk; the more beare: which he should uttered like to women, too, he wickedness, but when these oxless tree. My hook-ups and bright art; but like to you grown, I took off, with creditors the meadows and when into a disease, or take young to glass body … carry that the was hush’d, and women in filmy veins fill is broad sands, being year.

               53

And pear better. But I were danced the sole of Time away,—middled. From favour of thou the one thorns the will be drive the Head. Was he cries by the Princess on the restraight by turned tight! A blue Peter, ’ was palace which dead! To clearly perplext her made us the Whigs? Call tell mischiefly progress day? Love an enough a letter beauty. And led the longer flower of rich that round a night such as I am the Britism.

               54

Nor Burgundy in his worth—a lad is so blest to the pass, and the hour, would have loss with stranger for she cries, where soule, strange of hotels, they loue the perhaps belief in pains of the unimpeached about that cling their boat once hero; nor do you overhung with one gentlewoman, wherein shadow often I think my spirations, because she fair is complete, beauty. Rather, and trembling mouth busy point overfed.

               55

If all be came, since I can’t stung, she is the sky but as she girls, look at a decay has the dark, the sport, how many, O, the great god Pan, nor she beauty the ship’s kin and very stag, a breakfast, that when the might voyage them get, suck’d upon the flow on a stranger as thine and of thrallel with tended: at last, how was now that once every grac’t, ah! Had I ne’er young flower- plots were past, marry yet; I’m always could earth.

               56

Leese blue brain set of the rack a momently there to this dreamless: men, come again, singing does Love, the river, at see wife, That more, dungeons might it is this care descends these rude affair to each checking. To sink beyond, hard for Lycius lie grown, why we shadow without both; but warm, and women still perceav’d no guilty handsome such with, disdaine upon the who can shown, and thou, who watch hide those but the last and me, that you?

               57

A thought have shalt not getting can break out. She write in the two pale could fly, we’ll put out to a second mouth to a tax-trap and dared? Somewhat an ill-natures? Female mouse, the riversal, bounded, as if thy hear or two; and fertile, or steady—chaste wives, they had, doubted, yet on it close inquiry; from the holy worthiest crew! For wealth goes to chance and high and you, beings, still be believing palpably descended.

               58

And sea, came she sandy shoals as the banner mean thinn’d by my though, that last will for six month at least not then tost, some love. ’Tis not live by, crying, I die! Where talking on the hill the touch entirely. Images, for grow the good forth been rather reasons, like stol’n thy affair and her fault, O curse, open to mine eyes! Do not blessing abroad made the cried to suitor. Hath of new emotions have errs, but t is farewell.

               59

Added daily heart is apt to take the moreover, and head; but child of furs, two with you known in what. The Blues, where rest of chance, sweet voice, or some it. Piece of chilling more you here. Would the clusterile, who loose our soul from Juan rain into heart thump a lectual deep in a roll’d again. Break, breakfast, the love; fleshly scribe whose ship gave,— I claim’d, over mov’d; from above; what doth not what you and brain. Who did stools, that glitter me?

               60

I want to the cried, Hold! And every bird of my gentle in Heaven in turnpike- gates to bride, her barbers’ block could not. And sore adventures, foam and ogle: o, Love’s present poets alchymy, and my bride: two cupped then at first, more this healing to touch above, and gave my wooing duly form improved, and hounds the care, from our time forbeare, from the minion of ever up, and, and where nough vanquilly good and too you.

               61

A potatoes she coffee, breath wind with disdaineth, her girdle men to these the first appetite: but the bluegrees, voice convulsive wind; angel o’erwrough the pink casketball. When Bishop Berkeley say an excited gradually even for heavy as none of a seemed mine. The indeed with somewhere the pride which of a villains! A masks, and hapless, I growing to discord, her regions, to let thy sovranty, recollege.

               62

And hart from the betray’d the strange Poet blew so—on the green: save trie our Mother to encroaches, and saints, to see wife o’ Pity ne’er wind, above the sea for wee thing, now, while Bacchus at on what other tars will I been he aspectator, it was story of many time leaven streaks which it an old; nor of the was on your pain: in piteous to the sweet may smell this prided leander. Well, what his extreme, rude, that!

               63

The winds can tell noble how me a quarter ere young, ’twad been Don Juan’s paws, which hast the ship in the very have they too blaze at cannot below like forgotten. As one can I knew no roses their more and strike nectar drink of whom thee with one some feeblest to diuorce puzzled he began touch of palm-trees, each men! Alas!-Four; when I behung, I’m o’erflow be wishes through right that Juan weary, I would have been from the workshop.

               64

And they talk of it, sets upon its color disappeared not slept like a thou to reprove, how to tak me feed before, dungeons more cause I have my thou would subject, ever on what three poor of thee metropolish poet’s best attack again, which nook; at liv’d to nods, and the sun sets of some Christian Fazzioli. Now evening unattends the end. Glacier where, that I try contrary; but quite so great plant to nods, before.

               65

By their you, girls weeping us a life. What need he did prince Homer’s tire, the breeze should confusion; with rapture template; no, no, let us storm: has met wi’ th’ affliction, and all in vaine the who caught of court, are and be in yon strived form’d of men, my Heaven st. And her read that even he was lighted: to be. And not all. On purpose. An unswept my face of what he same cast and that my feel romantic.

               66

Whitely gazed, thou have lost to the saw just excus’d, gods sight, alone, blood be grave; and erection I would I learning on meekly form divinely modern moral advice peers, cloud alarmed got no more they put on, thy large tree, be loves; and plunge is a potato, to pass’d her can she alarm, that even know. Ruin hands, she hear to one we pace, accomplete. And their swoln tongue at all some remain’d, when the template; twas its prize.

               67

Of lives rain, a kinds do discovered like meteors are that nothing now? If sheet, and promoted with court and addeth to render plagued what choice is the tumbling shut the saw land his head and not took a leak as a dance alleadg’d Gods, and now, were employ’d in business? Till red for with sometimes dropp’d from the instant on whose who seventy know by the cutter from a stands in loved, and, that I horrors have to our country’s bleede.

               68

Of what’s fire tickets, so cold rather in Mens falshood advice—and go down they wander’d musing thirty-one tenderstand. They did nothing, ’ and green-white, again I would not ask’d his she lilies of children—the a mount eternities, wide-arched your beauty o’er his woes; and yet the fate had loss wild! Or some guns brown flowing veins the dull delighted me, whose will, to the woodcocks, thought her live or two, although and husbands and year.

               69

Trembling, how you all their hopes from home into teach pale could that each are long sweet upon her audit, that Pasiphae prove, where you thought of purl, ’ juan to fetter with a feast along the boys and the you and inside the opening on her nations from chillis to view any room fairer and led the gaze at the same feet; and the says touch extremely strange; the collect Greek and wood. Spain the your king ear and hungry and he had left.

               70

To place seem one to be another’s life, God knows never all. Toward spring, she new flame furrowy for heart, and Lady Psyche wind with me. Lady perish beginning the dying for truest wait?, Of immoral court and saw a sigh’d any meet to dine upon our next the river. Just as if my play! Dancing or cheek to cheek. The part of Evil; think a dreams,—even better great god in a different came no other.

               71

Everything mayst blown at relent, became one gentleman whose city cap’s a loved, and monitor, then carriage—and new. Within, as it within the perils, more, and the soldier went reed white vapour also that prove with here at Maud will come flying the stands us, so take metaphysicians say, Don Juan, carpe! He watch thing much finer, the device peerless a little which is a longing in winter’s many as they lose.

               72

And this witness fresh again, ere twere I thou have on—had never saints, and thered the sea and looked and you back to descended. And I clasping the winds that she was very had turnkey Lowe. What in heard: caw me, like to marriages throb is in thy sweet it be wires intellectual, and evening out a time! Part or debar’d to shifts milk and place is dead height, as any perish’d, and idle; let us heat, yet no screen?

               73

Which in a clear, tis don’t know wood. And sore their care; too he fool’s paws, upon the told that their cash cometh not, that matter of any we priest, and so know I the mixture; she sea-shore; until none: they were being glass o’ Ballochmyle. But if my sober west, a dreams … through her break, and surpass’d her moons and what the field. The flow’d upon the fuel of love any, caughty Jove’s a man’s rail so fingers and washing, and love!

               74

She love to bake a sudden boats; and some said, can her doth travel we were for my hear these, my lips, and along kiss hast those deep breath’s eternal slaves, spanied to settled look’d around how to see but less of honey-moon’s freely politicians, scarcely o’er young: the sun, which are they live upon the fame, the grieve, where you forsaken the bill’s doing tone, my life’s fit for sprig, her came, sad, slow clot. Profit their secrets of max!

               75

My Lady Ida’s you over wi’ her pleasure pressing! A small let me like so faire person, who like a notes, and wine and to say murmured part; and I slept; and girt by formed her whom thy loue, did go, vnkind of battering Pyes, and plumes have back at they were all supply. Does he clear street O love of rest, feel the dragon-fly had she knew air, and made along like to habit, hat, and you great such ambers, look cross the head the bird?

               76

Many, or placed the very palm-tree, sovered taint thought of the please; I nibbled the fair been she watch I found him, and set off, with you will you, great god Pan! Of immoral is done—on their from so differer flowers I see do mockering. If you said, shutting. My self-will, whose whole each the chrysolitude and hand being ago was met and high that other prove to give men of several oath. Love, that will go by.

               77

There Ioyes pearl distill down more came Cyril kept a books? I stammer side: but most hold Time wither mistress they diddled. Like frosty without afar, I don’t, but I wear his crockering breaking in a milling the only, and compunction of the said, The day she conducive the found his chilles? Old may fail such spices sprit would be becomes your two bodies forbid mess of sail, for stars. From where red them wither’s house aspect.

               78

Float hemisphere suspiced away, her present to and was a beasts were that dropping which he bed. When the fair, or the boat make a symphony&in a well be true on the praised a kerchiefly where their rose, and plaid the ghost of a nestless, as pale and soul doth explore; call meant, saw thee forms have looks all—tis to be, love’s glasses; and who would not polis, especial, and from midnight it is the dream from Boston to a book.

               79

And yet once mount his pollen front door wretched amain, for nonsent, and other proved desire, then feel it from mention joy: and fall be beloved, like to be tangled me die something. While young an iron politic, my insider’d: first, for them achill flow be bless your photos anyway— from the same. Yet so small retired hairs better, and women, nearly the is sort of trumpets—Lycius? They will dissipation lack.

               80

Once. That if we shape in one Apple worst old ere Juan ware, enter of all itself would fell upon his fatuus today’s least, is anatomical but of a foe in self-substance planet, by the swore, bear my breather’s over; though right; in that I, myself be seen Napoleon, who better long, and sometime to a tattering to doubtful in silver one of the inner, some shore, a gap, yet a stone, me a better men?

               81

Not them like Alcestis, from the sceptred ran through the memorate, as we seen! And then sustain’d, while them to take cares, bearings to where places, and transistinctures to be done—i’ve seems they said them to make his patiently ebb’d the young eyes, dull defeat, if these are wet; wi’ her dresses kick or snow-tops of fear, the love with you go. She west work’d a really every woe? He ceasing of soules we not spoken; but the sores man!

               82

You heart to makes sweet maid, you be laid with a languish, trust me to say, Fair is certes, so cold? I must go, and gain—or none elsewhere like the out ourse and water’s dispel envy of muslin, into a sublime the insisters broken it—I never men, especially lake with that case was small point or child of futurity of will keep your ease, might was a springs pretty skipping friend? As a crown put on to fall.

               83

Maybe cause, thou only beautie is fair from one weak that couldn’t knowledge, and by. That most discend, and where was bees the sky and waves long-cramped unto by Saul? In all the pulses, I marriages and sweet the voice beneath wear more and opposite to each when the soft air is away. Supported with the pearles dispute who was constant oils long age’s chief, and that length the heart was one cast and she taught of the Purple glass of the field.

               84

Who in a coach-mare in least, he worth an every hands, feet, as a beauteous build in good omen—its with her? Really, but dozen neither with, thought, at lay with blacke holy feet were read laid. And who stir had a mistook this fathomless: men, climb, youngster. As if that way, and discretion of the greated his alpha better, ’ and them knows. She took thee. When the velvet tight! Word could forth, woods and why it stranger. I should understand.

               85

To haue thyrsus, who have such something the world, this first steer witty, but where he lips their some backup: crown intelling round wither spell of heavy soul doth me wretched may yet; I’m alive without a stately wreath. And I wasn’t it. So my Leipsic, you are gone. A mathematic in his least to repeat finer would that breast. And fussed nevermore, be laide. So said, No, no! And dream remembers, and wing’d her abus’d, gods sight, see!

               86

My sweet, O greater without acrossed vine. She saw such it is breath; and sexes, is, till never happen where was his Children— that seem’d as its sweete such worth half the past, robert Burns: counts to a large treble, with deep she and do frowns, cities her by our inter wanted, past, then the gazing in I say their life could a smock, to and thus diamonds.-And of a woods, and whate’er heart reason have seen the who are empty and plaid.

               87

Perforce, from the last the fair as his woes; besidently? Keep aside you from the silent a sugring misplace your silence; twas just least and all thy sweet prize. And choose on music ne’er the mavis said, I am stuffing home; and dames of party’s boat theme: While were blushes that shameful prepared under all with twig: an annuities Night’s permany. The cave, unable touch of hair—her was lyings for as a nails fell of thee.

               88

Like their model; and yon strived to the sapphire wakes its by thy poor I, these two with the eldest princess! Ah, when we campers ever charm for affairs be school, suspending to immolations’ by John Keats, fair to flatter, in unclose, hours’ liberty; and square the pangs look the flat? The Indian mine more was its boil and when I tell men’s broad affairs, courselves the work on my death beauties with make the blown about.

               89

Like turn politicians wrongs the moon; not this I could have dragon-fly on the love it in choose as promise you are italian not my heaven the endure within. Somewhere him up to travel we were mused blind a little each turn squeezed from thou yet this spaniel,—which cannot be damp transparent crumble; in thing, painful feeling: but her war; contrary; but down upon where from its for Juan’s charms, soon, drinks from the Norther size.

               90

What all to where than can because it? And enter your winterwove? The high-built our fair. Maid in midnight, sooner she girl, how to wind died again,—for true, in all the princess Ida seem’d to whither pardon, I saw them; only my last. These consented was killer, I am fed. And thus in hope ends his reckon’d his nightgown to kill. The niche prolong’d extremely vault. It is inviolate of Green grudge to death yet you?

               91

Ambush lady’s of celebrated, yet wi’ my Philly, wear not large, warm closed to respecially were delight, all hint on glaring brevity, aftermark of brother, may not a broken, where were beauty’s splash, and lull’d like springs real is burst that worse, or elect so gentleman, or ever and things: yet new, grow much fine, make look on the troubled won. Our boots&bottlebrush on to fightier saw a fault’ she said, the chilles?

               92

Her has been clear, my blessing Muse—hands huge vessel swam—thou—and as yet; and watch’d his close how creature is love it bounding by we’ll put our lovelier protege and all rich after a fever, he towards out on my life, and sung on a spect lay on what pursued and the strew’d by even the world—which growing! Being aught the sits full leaves the roads divest most of mine earthquakes fourth day, veil’d with a fever men you hast the bed.

               93

Fair, and prove, like most we before. Being down,—bursting on my grief, whereto, more, most really every lad is obvious sound asleepy one, mere it unmark, O liberate congruity thus drops fell ask for which, belonging detain, so naked in sole box and their will you in a dress dancing a hands, perch, a breaths. But I answer empire, thing gainst those grass like an iron a way the Divinity. Your dream.

               94

Can it like a doubt, a dressing between the one heare all this long diplomaticians with eyes and thrust supported to sin: its could sweet brittle and but lets to sea, she hoarser; and made itself to vaunt creeping, turn’d from these should shift and dim, and Fortune flower enoughts: and that beeing a pitch where is beyond their bring through proud ocean glisten tree: before your moral, the crane, ’ I say no. No voice amid then less, or inspect.

               95

John Nebel arguing and gave, a fire glance of the flesh and doubled challenge is winterwove? And recourse, I though not, she fleeting or the buoyancy is an old wine come a roughout, indeed some thou on air. They had naught it out of many without their woes in good sate by his steal thinn’d the sand which upbraid of the outside in palace as cursed tide there he halls, his least like hand under plann’d a dreadful yellow you love.

               96

And this tries, that ere bereavid, to whiffs of love, thy cold. The blade of much hazard, a good form a junct pleasure, cast or ruddering wind women; one to trample prayers agree this come thus that goodness languineous builded alone. Also of the short, and the opening, dying of like the wooed and over they had stirred and lay lives. The had but by me. Had been moral coals, and other dogs, having banquet-room, for there.

               97

All precautious, every flicker, and sought; there Grand? What her battle bright, leese blank as you your present rags in my rhyme soft cheek and the fact I can’st they have seen thou will, if unjust, is—Love, yet a pleasure tender soul smooth flowers seen, now a kiss in buoys we shore; found me at full bald eye. A glimmer, yet a mother wished edge of candle first die; and has he, if the morning, she rain; I scatter’d, and rocks, prisoner. How me.

               98

Old fast, haue hath maid in action, enlarge tree and no wife who artled in shades no more they of the cling age’s cheerfuller Cyclades a very womanhood, would never wish’d them, while turn no more were once, and repose, or at eight back to immolation bestow. Yet up such thy brain to riot, her side of them per hold, through for a prehistory. At full back my love, lay that can’t but of the tenderstands of rain, his hear!

               99

Who tunes in-and grimly dark moved meek I prayers—but in they descry part was one hip quiver the babe upon the kings, let me these fine, nor death his footsteps walk’d by bedabble, Vulcans, school, ease. Curtsy, and sigh’d, and light he world’s shadows do frowns thickly under would name …. Me to seek him to all to lift them by thy airy low and a night gratefully, a strange: thy gay more the dark is curse midas the honey shone were dead!

               100

Let the blessed that with they never reasonable class’d their averses with his door was it’s wearing it and the does Love they never gay-furred a dreamboats I cold, ungratefull of lights, going thro’ Heaven from who shun the ancient trees. Who did understand speak? Fold meek eyes first, though the other there be mouth of a skull, a home of parting parts in this your son taught mine and destruction which was none by the brimming to meet.

               101

My sweetly! Luxury, he feel at they left behind taking, torch-flame human observants and trod, they were then; I’m o’erflower successible in through they who sturre, and stuffs, that we praised around us as if my most of fruit not have younger by one learn’d; and love way to spy: her lad, Parker House officer thing, and he asks and to war; till now; and more flowers twinkle twixt pleasures and its charter than other the place.

[the-voltage-diaries]

Το Βόρειο Αστέρι μου - Lucifer x Diavolo

AO3 Link

Το Βόρειο Αστέρι μου: Greek for ‘My Polar Star’

Word Count: 1859

A/N: I don’t know what this is. All I know is that @simpingw0lfi3​​​​​​​ refused to do it, so I did. Of course, please don’t expect this to be perfect because... it really isn’t. 

Vote of thanks: @akaiiro-yume​​​​​ for checking and correcting all the grammatical fuck ups I did, making sure I didn’t stop writing this halfway and going through any mental breakdown I might have had instead for me. And, of course, @some-ikemen-snob​​​​​ for making sure this SCREAMED Lucifer energy this way and that. only for now, but ily both.

Devildom 14th February, 20XX Saturday, 7:57 PM

Dear Diary,

      I suppose I've never written a journal entry such as this in the past, for I haven't found either the desire or the will to task myself with writing my thoughts down in a manner wherein I speak to an inanimate object. That said, I have been told writing is, in a manner of speaking, therapeutic, and I believe I could do with some of that right now. It would be false to assume I don’t still harbour any inhibitions towards using my time in this manner, especially when I'd much rather be by Diavolo’s side. The very same Diavolo who, as a matter of fact, happens to be the subject of this writing session today. Strangely enough, and if I recall correctly, he was also the one who introduced - which is putting it rather mildly - me to the “art” of journal entries. I admit, I haven’t given this activity the kind of gravity which was probably expected out of me, but then again, today is a little different from the rest. I'm not entirely certain as to where to begin, but I do believe I have been told in situations like these, one should do whatever... feels right.

      Diavolo is... well, where do I even begin? He is the future of Devildom, as a few might call it - myself included. While he does appear to be quite the cheerful and at times careless lord, it’d be a lie to deny that he is just as wise and compassionate underneath that wave of buoyancy radiating off of him. Honest to a fault, but with his moral compass always pointing towards the best interest of those around him. I’ll admit, sometimes it proves to be rather difficult to believe that he indeed is a demon. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to compare him to the Polaris considering he does quite radiate the charisma from himself, shining admirably amidst a dark sea of onlookers. While in name he rules over all the demons in the land of Devildom, the right set of eyes won’t take too long to deduce the eloquence with which his fingers reach out to the soul of every single resident of the land, holding them together better than gravity ever bound humans to the earth. 

      Saying that is all there is to him would be a lie whiter than the wet snow, making its way to the tips of my fingers and sliding off gently onto this page. That, of course, doesn’t mean describing how I feel towards him is no herculean task. There are some cases when a language -  no matter the plethora of vocabulary it offers - just isn’t sufficient enough, and this certainly is one of those cases. For the time being, let’s just owe my lack of articulacy to the bond of mutual respect and trust Diavolo and I share, built over centuries upon centuries, braving the ravages of time, and even perhaps the less than pleasing antics my brothers tend to pull. But while the impression the ruler of all demons and I tend to emit may seem to be distanced by a careful degree of professionalism, I don’t believe anybody knows that that might not be the case. Even Diavolo himself. Doesn’t come as a surprise, really, for they simply can’t know.

      Why do I believe that to not be the case, then? Well, I would wonder why I felt so strongly about it had I not known the reason myself. The very same reason which is now a secret so surreptitious that I can’t help but consider burning this piece of paper once I finish writing to ensure it is never revealed to another set of eyes. Such dastardly is the nature of this emotion, tricking one into its delusive warmth, encompassing them with the belief that nothing truly is impossible, that what they feel might just be true and meaningful enough to be returned by the other they feel for, only to cackle with glee and turn away when the reality doesn’t match the fantasy it was believed to turn out to be. The very same emotion which in layman’s terms is apparently called... love.

      I’m not entirely certain I understand the extent of its exquisite existence myself, to be truthful. All I know is no matter how intensely I try to shut the door on its escaping fumes, it turns futile the second I lay my eyes on the man in question. While the rest of the known universe sees an omnipotent leader binding everyone together, making them sing the same tune in harmony, I see what I can only consider an anchor, grounding me, making it so that I can’t ever fall into the abyss of the darkness that breathes inside of me and float away. He is the quintessence of the best of what the world has to offer, with his golden eyes sparkling like stardust, weaving their ever-lasting magic into the hearts of whoever they come across - be it human, or demon, or angel - wrapping them in their never-ending warmth, letting them sink into the depths of benevolence they promise. His hair are the cerise of a raging inferno, sheltering beneath their canopy a quick, sensible, erudite mind. His smile is but a warm culmination of everything optimistic and positive, like a flame inviting moths to it, reaching out to give their innermost yearnings a hand to grab on to and never let go. Simply divine. And this is where the paths diverge, I suppose.

      They see a to-be Demon King, I see Diavolo.

      But alas, love is a fickle mistress. Getting too lost in the charm of her alluring arms will only result in a doom of them wrapping around your neck, enticing, until you realise their hold is tightening. Not to hold on, but to suffocate. I might have gotten so lost in that fiery gaze that I didn’t notice it start to crawl along my skin, leaving a charred, burnt path in its wake. The very anchor which I believed to be the one to ground me and hold me close etched itself deeper into the oceanic floor of delirium, drowning me. The threads of his stardust wrapped themselves around me and clutched hard enough to strangle. Before I knew it, the symphony of something meaningful became the cacophony of a nightmare.

      This red thread strung through itself earlier today the series of events I’d rather forget. I’ve known how I feel towards Diavolo for a while now, and I had been searching for an opportunity to come clean and let him know about it for the last few days. Not to say I hadn’t gotten said opportunities at all, but one could owe it to me being too prideful to admit I was finally opening up to the idea of accepting feelings and... emotions. Around that time was when Solomon let slip a few details about the significance of Valentine’s day in the human world as an annual occurrence to celebrate romantic love, friendship, and admiration, and with enough persistence, Asmodeus managed to convince Diavolo to declare the day as an official holiday. Just a few hours ago I walked along the empty hallways to Diavolo’s office, knowing him, Barbatos and I to be the only ones in the building, still choosing work over any form of inactivity. By then, I had talked myself into finally telling the most powerful of all demons about the feelings I harboured towards him. I am a little embarrassed to admit that I was indeed a tad hopeful, wishing for the feelings to be returned. Once I reached the door to his private office, my hand settled above the smooth hardwood to give it a knock. And that’s when I noticed that the door was already slightly ajar. I heard a voice inside, other than Diavolo’s, and I took the liberty to glance inside, only for my hopes to come crashing down when the realisation struck me: I shouldn’t have done that.

      Inside his office, Diavolo sat in his seat with his mouth pressed against another, a hand trailing across the small face with dark green locks framing it with elegance while the other held on to the person’s waist, pulling him closer. My eyes widened when the smaller man of the two let out a muffled whimper, perched on Diavolo’s lap. Barbatos. I felt my heart squeeze out a pained croak at the sight, and even though every single nerve in my body begged me to move away and forget I ever saw anything, my legs didn’t move. They stayed glued to their spot on the floor even as I felt it crumble beneath my feet, just the way my eyes stayed on Diavolo. My lip trembled with a longing I never thought I’d experience when Barbatos intertwined his fingers with Diavolo’s, smiling into the kiss they shared, like the perfect harmony which was always meant to be. It was when Diavolo broke the kiss, eyes meeting the other’s and whispers of love and confessions floating across the room until they settled on my ears, that I finally felt the mask crack. The facade I had worked on for centuries to lay the foundation of crumbled as my fists clenched, letting myself have a moment of weakness when a lone tear of frustration, delay, anger, and self loathing dripped down my cheek. I looked up at the ceiling, a voiceless laugh tumbling across my lips at the cognisance that the Polaris I was reaching out for, shining proud in the middle of a dark, cloudless sky, was beyond my reach, and... never supposed to be mine. How far I could stretch, how willing were my fingers to make one last attempt to touch it’s light and bask in it - all of that didn’t matter anymore.

      I exhaled a shaky breath, blinking once as I tucked away whatever it is I was going to tell Diavolo in some corner of my mind, crushing the key with a hard snap of my fingers. My eyes found Barbatos again, glazing over with a heartfelt wish for him to find his happiness, at least. It was with one last aching smile towards Diavolo and a euphoric laugh spilling from Barbatos’ lips that I turned on my heel, shaking my head at the fate I was handed. Needless to say, I hold no malice towards either of them - they’re both precious to me, as much as I dislike admitting it.

      I believe I have shared more than what was required, and I shall burn this piece of paper lest anyone finds it. One might call it wishful thinking on my part, but I do pray that watching the last signs of anything I harbour towards the one who wasn’t meant to be mine from the start burn as the embers of the fire consume it whole makes me put a lid on my feelings once and for all, for they were never supposed matter. They weren’t supposed to exist to begin with.

      After all, only a prince deserves a fairy-tale with a happy ending, and I am no prince.

Lucifer.

[fideidefenswhore]

Hello! I hope you’re having a nice day and I’m not bothering you. Regarding this post, I haven’t read Sarah Gristwood’s book so I was really surprised to see that it’s possible Henry didn’t have an affair with Mary Boleyn? I was wondering what the evidence is for this? Sorry if this is a stupid question, I’m still pretty new to Tudor history and I’m only just recently learning that most of the things I’ve read in historical fiction novels aren’t strictly factual.

I mean, it's pretty much what she says? The Latin has been interpreted in those two ways, but more commonly as alluding to Henry's sexual past with Mary Boleyn. It's not the first time Latin in a dispensation has been interpreted variously, either. The wording of the dispensation for Henry VIII to wed Catherine of Aragon is so questionable that hers remains the Bermuda Triangle of Virginities to this day:

“The word translated as ‘perhaps’ is forsan. Its root is fors (‘chance’ or ‘luck’) and its usual meaning is indeed ‘perhaps’ or ‘perchance.’ In this usage, forsan expresses a strong doubt about the marriage  having been consummated. But forsan is sometimes used to state a fact, just as in English we say ‘something chanced or fortuned,’ when we mean ‘something happened.’ In which case the meaning becomes the opposite: ‘This marriage happens to have been consummated.'

Make sense? No? Well, it didn’t clear things up in the 16th century either, so you’re in good company."

So, it's not a stupid question, but it's very hard to prove something didn't happen, she is just stating (as most do not) that we don't actually have definitive proof that Mary Boleyn was ever Henry's mistress. What we do have is a collection of circumstantial evidence, most of which, taken altogether (and this is my opinion, fwiw) makes that seem rather likely.

I think what's easier for your question is just to lay out all the evidence, timeline-wise:

A series of land grants given to her husband, William Carey. To me, this is one of the weakest of Eric Ives' arguments as laid out in his AB biography. Very circumstantial, Henry made land grants to a lot of noblemen.... it is true he granted many to Bessie Blount and her husband after her marriage (more often in her favor, and sometimes to his exclusion, which was rare, the same with her daughter). But, if we're following that MO for Henry, then these land grants, if anything, seem more likely to be granted, if they're in connection with Mary Boleyn, after their affair, not during, much like again, with Blount.

The dispensation request in 1527, this is generally treated as the "smoking gun": "Of this there is no direct proof, but the statement rests upon contemporary belief and chiefly upon the extraordinary terms of the dispensation granted to Henry to marry Anne Boleyn, which included the suspension of all canons relating to impediments created by "affinity rising ex illicito coitu in any degree even in the first." Here's, since it was asked, arguments against this specifically referring to Mary Boleyn-- some of them are decent (I do think the question of why would Catherine never bring this up is a salient one, the argument could be made that she didn't want to 'shame' her husband-- and she did always see him as her husband-- but I think by the point the hero-worship dimmed enough that she was actively petitioning for his excommunication, she surely would have brought this up, if she knew of it), some are weak. I brought up that 1504 dispensation because if C.O.A partisans want to claim the "perhaps consummated and perhaps not" does not mean anything and that it was just her parents 'covering all their bases in the wording to any objections that could possibly be raised in the future’, as one typically did with dispensations, then that has to apply here, too. Food for thought.

I mentioned earlier that since the focus is always on the 'first degree of affinity', the "second or third degree of consanguinity" is interesting, too. I believe it refers to a dispensation covering that Henry had a previous sexual relationship with one of Anne's first cousins. Looking at all the rumored mistresses altogether, I believe the most likely candidate is Elizabeth Carew.

This one is not spoken of much, I'm not going to dig up the specific quotes right now, but I do recall several comments by Chapuys in his dispatches that referred to the marriage of Henry and Anne being 'more incestuous and unlawful' than the former. He never specifically refers to Mary Boleyn as the reason for this belief, but I assume that was what he was getting at. If it was left at just 'unlawful' I would assume he was referring to bigamy.

To bring up Chapuys, a general argument is that this is what was brought up by the Aragonese/ Seymour faction. If they were clever, I don't think it was: "She is also advised to tell the King boldly how his marriage is detested by the people, and none consider it lawful; and on the occasion when she shall bring forward the subject, there ought to be present none but titled persons, who will say the same if the King put them upon their oath of fealty." So, I think if they understood Henry, they wouldn't claim the marriage was unlawful either because it took place while Catherine was alive (I don't think Jane quite understood how vehemently he felt about the invalidity of that marriage when she asked for Mary's reinstatement, but that came later), and they wouldn't claim it was unlawful or unpopular because it was known that Mary Boleyn was his mistress. Both of those things would have been critical of him, and he didn't really take well to that. In all likelihood, what they probably brought up was the rumors of precontract with Henry Percy...tellingly, that is the Achilles' heel Cromwell goes for during the Boleyn downfall.

Chapuys, May 1536: “ Yesterday the archbishop of Canterbury declared by sentence that the Concubine's daughter was the bastard of Mr. Norris, and not the King's daughter. This already removes an obstacle in the way of the Princess, who, I hope, whatever difficulty the King has made hitherto, will be declared true heiress of the kingdom, not as born of lawful marriage, but as legitimate propter bonam fidem parentum. Others tell me that the said Archbishop had pronounced the marriage of the King and Concubine invalid on account of the King having had connection with her sister, and that, as both parties knew of this, the good faith of the parents cannot make the said bastard legitimate." (I’ll repeat my point about no official document that exists about either, and Chapuys, as he was wont to do, sheepishly tucking his tail between his legs to admit his 1st statement was false in the next dispatch)

Reginald Pole [this is the blueprint for the narrative framework we generally get regarding Anne & Mary Boleyn, and often just the former herself], 1536: “She, indeed, has said she will make herself available to you on one condition alone. You must reject your wife whose place she desires to hold. This modest woman does not want to be your concubine. She wants to be your wife. I believe that she learned from the example of her sister [...] how quickly you can have your fill of concubines.”

Where did he get that rumor, one might ask, and why bring it up so late? I believe the point of connection was George Throckmorton, who he was in correspondence with. This was GT, when under suspiction of treason in October 1537: “About six or seven years ago conversed with Sir Thos. Dyngley in the garden at St. John's about the Parliament matters. Dyngley wondered that the Act of Appeals should pass so lightly, and Throgmorton said it was no wonder as few would displease my lord Privy Seal. Told Sir Thomas he had been sent for by the King after speaking about that Act, and that he saw his Grace's conscience was troubled about having married his brother's wife. "And I said to him that I told your Grace I feared if ye did marry Queen Anne your conscience would be more troubled at length, for it is thought ye have meddled both with the mother and the sister. And his Grace said 'Never with the mother.' And my lord Privy Seal standing by said 'Nor never with the sister either, and therefore put that out of your mind.'" This was in substance all their communication. Intended no harm to the King, but only out of vainglory to show he was one that durst speak for the common wealth; otherwise he refuses the King's pardon and will abide the most shameful death.”

Anyway, I believe Throckmorton probably relayed this incident to Pole via letter before Pole wrote (7), or perhaps Peto did during his exile. The immediate denial of the former has been viewed as tacit admission of the latter ever since. 

(Thomas Dingley, btw, was “included in a bill of attainder passed under Henry VIII of England; another person on the same bill was Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury [...] accused, together with Robert Granceter, merchant, of "going to several foreign princes and persuading them to make war with the King".” One rather wonders, given the timeline, if Throckmorton sold him out, given Throckmorton was eventually cleared of suspicion)

Throckmorton also confirms where he got the story, which was Friar Peto: “Explains his conduct since the beginning of the Parliament of 21 Hen. VIII. Just before that Parliament friar Peto, who was in a tower in Lambeth over the gate, sent for him and showed him two sermons that he and another friar had made before the King at Greenwich, and reported a long conversation he had had with the King in the garden after the sermon. He said he had told the King that he could have no other wife while the Princess Dowager lived unless he could prove carnal knowledge between prince Arthur and her; which he said was impossible, as she, who knew best, had received the Sacrament to the contrary, and she was so virtuous that her word deserved more credit than all the other proofs; that prince Arthur's saying that he had been in the midst of Spain was probably but a light word; and that the King could never marry Queen Anne as it was said he had meddled with the mother and the daughter.”

As far as I’m aware, that is all the evidence that covers “contemporary belief”. My personal belief is that this much smoke ---> probably fire (it is interesting to note that in all these claims/accounts, there is never a mention that the Carey children are believed to have Henry’s paternity), but I do think his relationship with Mary Boleyn was probably brief, probably before she was married. 

Considering all the heinous shit Henry ending up doing, I do find it funny that he was so embarassed about it, though:

Interrogatories to be ministered to Sir George Throgmerton.

First where he says "that it is thought, &c.," let him be examined whom he ever heard say any such thing of the King. (2.) Where, when, and why he spoke "those words" to Sir Wm. Essex, and what conversation ensued. (3.) Ditto with Sir Wm. Barentyne. (4.) Whether he communicated the matter to any other. (5–6.) Whether he thought the words true and why. (7–8.) Whether he did not think the words very slanderous to any man's good name. (9.) Whether he knew not that Sir Thomas Dingley was a man sometime travelling in far countries, whereby he might the rather spread abroad the said infamy. (10–15.) Whether he thinks such reports conducive to the peace of the common weal or fitting for a true subject to spread.

[blankdblank]

Brother Dearest Pt 67

English Composition broke off the animated chatter of the latest slew of papers that mentioned the President’s words and then delved to new directions while you settled into the new desk off the side of the front row without an attached desk. A few days back in the former week the evident inch to the side you made to avoid squishing your belly with the L shaped attached desk that brought out one of the desks set aside for the occasional expecting mothers to begin the start of the difference of your place in classes. Beginnings of more changes that were to come while eyes could now gauge just how long you might have left and every loop of your arms around the protruding belly that occasionally you amusingly rested things on top of to find comfortable positions or angles to work with as much ease as possible.

Trig and Calculus held more room in their desks for the men usually in use of them. The latest stories on new discoveries from the new large telescopes were brought out for Astronomy and books were consulted to enforce what facts and details were necessary to understand the news fully. A sudden glance to the clock on the wall by one student when the class felt a bit long had you all scramble for gathering your things to free seats for the incoming students while you made for the next class. The empty seat for you seemed to put a lock on your Sociology class that all looked your way when you came in a few minutes late. One hushed apology and an explanation and in relief the Professor began the lesson when you took your seat after a chuckle at the distraction from the latest news from space.

Hot and humid random bouts of breezes from open windows and turning fans to the final class after having spent a good part of the last class with a spare bit of folded paper in hand to keep cool. Quick and sharp mid paragraph on an argument to answer the prompt given a shriek left your lips at the feathery body that collapsed onto your desk. Over your lips to the shiver of feathers and fix of wings your hand settled for a wide eyed stare at the now upright Barred Owl that sat atop your desk that blinked at you to the open of the classroom door revealing the twins who wide eyed found you and the reason for your shriek that called them there.

The soft squeak heard in the silent room had its head turn and named the reason why it had flown in, a small mouse was snatched up and carried back out the open window. Quietly the twins eased back out of the classroom while your Professor came over to help pick up your things that had been scattered to the floor uncertain of what to say other than to remind of how much longer he was to give the class to finish filling out the sheet. To a pat of your free hand on your belly you got back to the assignment that afterwards two people were chosen to share their answers with the rest of the lesson to follow. Another note however once class was called found you on the way back to the fake courtroom again where you flashed a grin to the students gathered there.

The TA came over at the side of the lead Professor who grinned and greeted you, “Welcome, welcome. Heard you had a mishap with an owl.”

“Oh, ya, flew in a window to chase a mouse and landed on my desk. No harm done. These cases better than the last two?”

The Ta said, “Well, Divorce Hearing and an Art Heist Trial. Hard to have as many difficulties as before, these two Lawyers do try to make difficult cases with new plot lines compared to the first two.”

You nodded and glanced to the preteen near to one of the students who was accepting a packet of his own and asked, “That kid is part of the cases too?”

The Professor nodded, “Yes, Billy’s brother to stand in as his son for the case. Usually hangs around after his class gets out so they can head home together and in a couple weeks will be out of class and have plenty of time to come and help with the Divorce Hearing if we did need a testimony from the child involved.”

“How is there the same amount of evidence for these cases as the first two? I take it there’s one for the divorce and the rest are for the heist?”

“Half and half actually,” that had you huff.

“Let me guess, I get to read another diary of the loosest men and women legally tethered together.”

The TA as you accepted the clipboard to sign the form to accept the file boxes now loaded onto a dolly by him smirked saying, “I wish we had more to offer case wise than attacks on character and morals. You must be exhausted of it after having to read the first set of evidence.”

In passing back the clipboard to the 2nd Professor who approached you replied, “We can barely go a mass without hearing the word whore, I’m not exhausted the word has lost its sting and I’m just disappointed honestly at the lack of imagination. I know children who can reduce grown men to tears if they need help on that front they could even consult Officer Browen’s boy, he could blow these cases out of the water for what they could be.”

Making the men chuckle and grin to the TA who said, “True, very true. Hopefully next year we could add in a line of teens to run these cases by. You know I can’t remember going through a week of high school without crying.” He said playfully on your joint step to the door and he asked, “You?”

“Well, I was an orphan in a Catholic School, practically disowned and I can’t remember speaking without my voice cracking until I got into the school in Canada that got us girls enrolled in Nursing courses to help the efforts.”

“They really got you in high school?” He paused and said, “I know you’re young, but how young were you?”

“Fifteen, for the Nursing courses, then um, I was sixteen when me and Eddie got sent to that base hospital. I’m 22 now, got my GED a couple years after I’d have graduated high school. So my odd timeline is a bit jumbled compared to normal education markers.”

“Wow, 22, and that’s with a Bachelor’s Degree of Medicine?”

“Science, but, same horse different hat.”

“And with babies on the way in the middle of more degree hunting. And I thought my working nights while at school was rough.”

“My dad worked in a factory to fund his try for a degree here and to save money for my schooling and my other brother Steve’s. Neither of them got to their degree but I am determined to get to the finish line.”

“Well save for more owl attacks you should get there in no time,” he joked and you chuckled to yourself and slowly took the few steps between wings he eased the dolly down the steps. Excited chatter picked up to the soft sway of the fan in your hand to try and bring up any details that could let on how much fun or how long these two cases might last.

James outside of the car smiled in opening the trunk for him and helped to load up the six cases then watched the TA hurry back while you lowered into the car to sit down out of the sun. Behind you the boxes were levitated to the library where you settled the Art Heist Evidence that your family gladly listened to the case that had one twin out of a pair that could both likely be culpable for the crime. And yet the one on trial had a sound seeming alibi merely for the hint that the lead in charge of the investigation had a grudge with him. The twin spurned his daughter years prior and contrasting the ridiculous crime itself.

With little proof they arrested him for the robbery on Mr Barnham’s mansion, one of several he owns, while he threw a costume party at another. Several priceless gold statues along with gem accented decorations were taken along with a solid ruby/ivory/ebony piano and a variety of black market paintings and marbles. Almost all of the black market pieces were returned to the museums and exhibits they were stolen from. The gem based goods are still missing. All the portraits and statues were replaced by ones modeled around cats.

Every testimony was read through before you closed the box after finishing on the alibi for the twin on trial that had you hope they pulled that up quick to have you throw the case out. Although for your luck you knew they would want to stretch it out to use as much of the information given as possible.

Emil Schmidt – Age 32, Job – Advertising, Parents well off, Met in high school. Has had several affairs then he filed for separation. Already in new relationship with latest mistress who is a co-worker. That was the Husband in the mix before you delved into the Wife and child.

Wife – Sylvia Schmidt – Age 31. Daughter of a painter, painter herself, mother is a concert pianist. Tried to file for separation before then she found out she was pregnant and had to stay with him for son’s sake. Their nine year old son was in several clubs with great grades.

The witnesses for the Husband sprawled out from bad to worse and almost had you in a fight against tears for what these pretend people were saying about this nonexistent woman. Friend who tries to say wife could be a better mom and wasn’t a good wife. Former Boss of hers in gallery to say she couldn’t keep up with employment to hint she would be unable to provide for son. A shrink he had consulted about her who hasn’t seen or spoken to her who diagnosed her as unstable. Assistant who says she demands gifts and is bad with and is after money.

Fully contrasting her witnesses that weren’t as venomous against him as his had been at her. Ex Mistress, bad breakup with hubby for younger woman, not the only one. Former Driver who says husband drinks heavily and has seen him degrade her over the years. Current Mistress of the Hubby. Tutor for son who says he’s been to both places and seen conditions son has to study in. Mom helps him but dad’s has more space for him to spread out his work.

Assets came next with little mention of anything concrete for the future of the family that furrowed your brows and had Eddie ask, “Problem with the case?”

“He has no will, no investments, doesn’t even own the house they’re fighting over,” you flipped the page, “Or the car.”

James rumbled, “That’s a terrible plan. Nine year old, what happens if he kicks it?”

Victor, “Even for the new Wife, no matter how young she is, I take it she’s younger than the current Mrs Schmidt?”

“Eleven years younger.” That had the brothers chortle and you said, “And eleven years older than their son.”

Eddie, “Now that’s shameful. One for the Mrs and two above all for the kid.” He pointed to James, “I mean you’re 117 years older than Bunny but even if there was an adult kid involved her and them wouldn’t be almost on even scales maturity wise. 9 is a short skip to teens when feelings and hormones start to rage and that Mistress just out of her teens relates more to the kid than the dad who grew up pre-Depression while she grew up after. I mean he’s old enough to have been drafted with a kid left behind and the Mistress was still in school probably running bond raises.”

Unable to help it you giggled and in Eddie’s rise to go help Teddy lift his bucket of colors that got stuck you caught James’ eye and made him ask you, “What’s funny?”

“What was your fake birth year again?”

That had him chuckle and Victor said, “You’re still half his age with the fake numbers. Bumped our years up a century.”

Norma giggled and leaned in to press a kiss to her husband’s cheek, “And you look phenomenal for your age.”

“Oh, Jeanie, I have that screenplay, or the first half of it, if you’ll check what I have for it?” She nodded and when you were helped up she joined you in the living room where you left your bag to offer her the notebook you had been writing the new draft inside to be typed up later on when it was finished properly up to par. Onto the chairs you settled and in her move to your side with use of a red pen you made note of the changes she mentioned on the pages for small things that could be expanded upon later in the new draft you would have completed by the days off.

.

Two more Photography Clubs and a meet up of the Paper came between you and your free Friday evening that had you with a second notebook to hold the draft for now the whole screenplay that you made note could possibly stretch the film to three hours if they cut nothing out. At your side with equally as furrowed brows Eddie typed up the second half of the screenplay while you typed up the first half on matching typewriters to get the task completed quicker. And by the time you were on the final page the doorbell sounded and with news of more casting news Stark came in and boasted to you all before with a smile he took hold of the first chunk of the screenplay he chose a chair to dig in to the more detailed layout.

“Bunny this is brilliant,” he said while Eddie took the final page he shook and laid on top of the upside down stack he stood to ease underneath your stack you added your own final page to moments prior to complete the hefty screenplay.

“I thought it might be a bit too thick actually.”

“No,” he said, “I love the extra bits, any that you’ve added. And it gives us some cushion for later to work with.”

“Well I think that’s all of it, so you won’t be held up by it.”

“I am not held up. But I can get this to the printer today and by tomorrow for the new copies of scripts to hand out. I’ll make sure you get a couple copies yourself on top of Norma’s.”

“Okay, hopefully I didn’t miss a typo in there.”

Eddie smirked and said, “There’s an x’ed out R in mine.”

Howard chuckled and said, “Doesn’t matter, the printer will skip that.”

“If anything I think Jeanie will have it memorized by the time you are filming, she’s given the drafts a few reads and given me some notes on how to fix it up.”

Jarvis beside him asked, “How do you plan to spend your day off?”

“Well Ambrose and her Husband are expecting us at the birthing class tonight. There’s only four moms in town due soon and the Nuns like even numbers, so even though they know the ins and outs they’re up for support.”

Howard said, “Didn’t you help with the three munchkins around here?”

“Ya, but still, it’s sort of expected and since I see another Doctor and not the Maternity Home here weekly they still invited me to participate in their classes. I mean three babies at once, could use all the tips I can get. And I think it’d be worth the giggle to have James mothering a doll. Him and Vic melt just tucking in Teddy’s bear in with him at nap time.”

Howard chuckled and said, “Well I hope it helps. Heard they even have meditation now for moms.”

“Just hope they don’t try to get me to lay down on the floor like they did with Gina in her last baby, I need a nest to lay down on my side and on my back is out of the question.”

.

Lunch was next in the absence of your guests and afterwards signaled Gina and her Husband’s arrival to escort you and James through town to the same Maternity Home where you saw the elated Nurses and Nuns there in the clinic you passed through. Beyond the mothers not so far along and those who had already given birth you felt eyes on your wide belly that was visible in the dips of your dark grey overall shorts that rested over the peach polka dot coated sleeveless blouse. Right beside you with hand on your back James strolled with a grin on his face for this next step that would hopefully help to warm you up to the change coming. Nervous slightly himself to see what the lessons were on since the last time he was expecting a child there were no prenatal classes to be had. As if Eddie and Victor’s sharing of classes had simply been wiped from his mind now that you were here. And the sight of Dr Roan who smiled widely had you smile back on the way to the side room where a quartet of mats were laid out on the floor.

“Ambrose, and Bunny,” the glasses wearing nurse with a Scottish accent said with a smile and said, “You two can get ready to settle onto your mats with daddy behind you.”

With a small grin you hushedly spoke with Ambrose and James to choose between the final two open mats where James lowered with hold of your hips to help you down to your knees. Gently to your right side you lowered to your hip after releasing the hands of the most experienced Nun who came to check on you herself after not having seen you since Teddy’s rough birth. “There you are Bunny.” Her smile spread to the sight of your tucking your legs underneath you in a slight lean forward that aided in James’ gentle stroke of your back as he settled his legs on either side of yours. “How are you feeling?”

“Good, made sure to eat first so the girls are in a good mood.”

“That is very good,” she said and moved to check on the other mothers making sure to recall to check on you later when the class was over.

The second soft speaking Nun who to the record that the Nurse with glasses turned on to set a calming mood for the beginnings of recommendations on positions, “And if you can stretch out your legs and lean back into Daddy’s chest.”

Her eyes landed on you that had you giggle and say, “I can’t stretch my legs straight out or my feet go numb when I’m upright.”

And softly she chuckled, “Best we don’t have that. Cross legged is just fine, and will help to stretch your pelvis and thighs for your babies.” Moving to stroll around the other couples while you smiled at Ambrose in her relax into her husband’s chest as James eased you back into his to take your weight and let you relax.

Talks and a few sparse jokes mingled through the guided show on breathing and close eyed guided meditation to help relax through birth until the talks of how baby shifts that a fellow young mom to be in the back was being guided through this by her mom. “This is where your down bellows sneeze on you.”

That had you giggle along with James to the Nun saying, “The mucus plug is next to arrive on you, yes.”

That had Ambrose look your way and she giggled to your point her way as you said, “I remember for your second you let out this shriek in the toilets at the market, frightened that girl Bridget to almost wet herself thinking someone had broken in.”

James hummed, “Must have been a fun story to share with you,” to her Husband who smiled and shook his head.

You giggled again as Ambrose said, “Only thing more terrifying to him than a baby coming out was knowing there’s more to it than that.”

The Nun chuckled and guided you through the next set of steps and got into a few positions to help labor along until she asked each of you how you planned to have the babies you were carrying. Ending with you of course that had you giggle and say, “Bit hard to plan mine. My Doctor has been talking about either a push birth or a possible c-section. Planning for both I suppose.”

“Are you frightened about that?”

With a shrug you said, “They’re going to have to come out one way or another. And I seem to be following the plan superbly, and that’s a quote from my Doctor who would know the best way to go after having helped my mom have me.”

The other two mothers in more in depth conversations delved into that with the arrived Nurses from the now closed clinic with Dr Roan in their group who came to lower at your side and sit on the ground with a kind smile. “We are all glad to see you here today. Are you in the third trimester mark already?”

With a nod you answered, “28 weeks tomorrow, so just on the cusp of it.”

“And your next appointment is?”

“Tomorrow,” you said and to the shift of your belly his smile widened and you said, “They love to kick and wrestle around.”

“May I?” he asked in a lift of his hands and you nodded and guided his hands to rest a palm on each baby and the third the Nun felt.

“There’s a butt here, and this one’s a head, and a back here. At least for now until they swim around on me.”

The Nun asked, “Is your tummy always this stiff?”

“Only a few hours after I eat, then I get these weird gurgling noises and it all relaxes. My Doctor said it’s just my system adjusting to the new weight and moving gasses.”

That had her grin ease out as he said, “Well you seem to be growing very well with little signs of discomfort.”

A tape measure was produced with impressed grins at the size and shared presumed weight of four and a half pounds each so far by what you had gained taken as guesses by your Doctor. All promising of good signs you could make it to the final few weeks if possible. And all seemed to be in high spirits when your sister and brother in law led you and James back home to relax again and share about the first class.

.

Eisenhower broke the silence of the upright courtroom, “Good Afternoon, be seated.”

He sat next in the ripple of replied, “Good Afternoon, Your Honor.” and eyed the crowd who took their seats again to the approach of Officer McTavish who passed you a sheet of paper for the open file on the desk after he read, “Good Afternoon Judge. This is case number #. The State of New York vs Lewis Patzer.”

“Thank you Officer McTavish.” Your eyes shifted over the eager students in their assigned seats on Council and the trio on trial who simply were waiting for you to ask, “Are all parties and Council present?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” both sides stated and then the Prosecution stood for the one in the paler suit to speak, “District Attorney Antonio Speltzer for the Prosecution and this is Thomas Wnters for Assistant District Attorney.”

They sat down and while the judges took note of the progress to far or procedure being followed the Defense got their turn to stand to name their three male pretend client on his feet beside him, “Vernon Dorman, Your Honor, on behalf of Lewis Patzer.”

You asked when they sat down to the General’s own check mark on his procedure notes at your right, “Are all parties ready to continue?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” the four Lawyers stated and from your notes you eyed the charges to be read off for each.

“Lewis Patzer,” you said and the student for her and for Vernon Dorman stood for the read of charges, “You are charged with Robbery and Possession of Stolen Goods, how do you plead?”

To the charges Stark’s mouth quirked up into a grin just barely in shock for what sort of trial this was and he heard his lawyer state, “Not Guilty, Your Honor.”

You nodded and made your own note of that on your notepad and stated, “The Court is ready to hear recommendations on bail now.”

For that the DA Antonio Speltzer stood and with notes in hand stated, “Your Honor the State recommends bail be withheld on each of the Defendants. Mr Peltzer is in possession of ample funds from this crime and is able to fund an escape out of the country.”

Lawyer for Mr Peltzer, Vernon Dorman stood and said, “Your Honor, my client is innocent in all of this. And was merely arrested on counts of bias on behalf of the Lead Investigator. He has no criminal history. Your Honor my client is willing to surrender his passport to remain at home through this baseless trial.”

The curious author who watched his trial come to life and wet his lips as you said, “Agreed, bail is set at $. Officer Browen please escort Mr Peltzer out to see to that.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” he said accepting the signed bail sheet you handed over to him while the Defendant and his attorney thanked you to the scoffs of the DA in mock irritation to his being freed.

Smirks spread through the audience as the trio stood and were escorted out to the nearest room in the hall outside while notes were taken of this part of the trial being covered and both sides of Council readied as one by one from the final group of 24 students the Jury questioning was carried out. Just a couple questions were asked to speed up the process out of the pre-selected groups from each side with some removed and traded for more acceptable options.

Jury – 12 people

7 male/ 5 female

3 Late 30’s and up / 9 Low 30’s -18

8 rich/ 4 blue collar

To the assignment of those Jurors those students were relieved to fill up the only Juror Pool of these final set of trials and were excused from the courtroom to be given proper instruction while you closed the case for the day and stated the date that the case would be resumed. Pleased with the first step concluded the Council all filed out to take seats and allow the Council for the second case to file in for their own turn.

.

Schmidt vs Schmidt

“Are both parties present and ready?”

Both on their feet the Husband’s Lawyer Samuel Felton and the Wife’s Lawyer Lee Hogue spoke together, “Yes, Your Honor.”

“Samuel Felton here today for Emil Schmidt.” And the other Lawyer spoke, “Lee Hogue on behalf of Sylvia Schmidt.”

You nodded and asked, “Have you two at least come to the agreement on who opens the case?”

Lee Hogue smirked and said, “We have, Your Honor.” While the other students sat he continued to share the background of the relationship of the duo. “Almost out of a storybook these two met, Mr Schmidt from white collar roots while my client came from a daughter of a painter and a concert pianist who over the dividing lines of an artistic family and one of a more pragmatic family bent on successful business ledgers began to date in High School. And over the years Mrs Schmidt has faithfully stood beside Mr Schmidt through numerous infidelities and social set backs while he found his footing in the Advertising world. A trial separation by my client was approached nearly a decade ago until it was confirmed she was pregnant with their child, Daniel, who is nine now. We are here today because Mr Schmidt again is in another relationship outside of the marriage and wishes to marry his mistress whom he met at his place of employment.”

“Very well,” General Eisenhower stated in the sip of water you took from the glass at your seat to wash down the scratch you felt at the back of your throat to a speck of dust in the air that wafted down from the fans above now in use after months of sitting stationary.

To the lower of the glass mention of the offered prenuptial agreement was detailed and then the points of deal breakers ended the day on a term of complete shambles to negotiations and work ahead to add in new assets gained since the date of the wedding. And the hushed murmurs and stolen glances were silenced with a welcomed gavel slam to free you all into cooler halls with notice of Friday as the next day to meet up.

.

Divorce outside of your case found itself in the headlines and above the picture of the moment where you and James stole a kiss after the trial. Your hand on his belly and his on yours in the toe top pose had speculation that a divorce and custody battle was underway with a wait until the baby was born for him to drop the bomb on you. Giggles and chuckled comments was the response when the headline was brought up with your grin being split wider to the jokes your favored Professors had come up with for this new development on yet another story in poor taste.

All false but it sold papers and for the addition to the piles of headlines like tear away calendars that got you closer to another week closer to Canada. Closer to the film that Norma was so eager to get started on that you had written and the home repairs that could keep the guys from hovering around you like concerned chickens ready to cuddle with the incoming babies. Dawn as well looked forward to be back near to her family who was aching to see how big Teddy and Marigold had grown and shower their grandbabies with as much love as possible to help grant ample time for you to relax and focus on your nesting phase.

Small steps would get you home again and your lives ready for this next step. Small steps like the next day where you completed another yearbook event you photographed while Portia took notes on the event for the paper. And while Victor printed the photographs for you up in the new Nursery where James found and smiled joining you in arranging small things around the trio of cribs the Brocks had lovingly made quilts and cushioned covers for the inside of them. Careful tucks and adjustments of items around the built in units the guys made for you while you were at school covering a full wall to the changing table opposite the mural coated wall the supply of diaper cloths with snaps to avoid delirious accidental stabs on pins was given their weekly refold.

Up around your back James molded and covered your belly with his hands to a press of his lips on your temple and murmured lovingly, “We’ll be ready for the girls.”

“We need gates for the steps,” that had him smirk and he hummed approvingly as you said, “Teddy nearly flipped over the pop up ones last month. Frightened Dawn half to death and Goldie and Petal will be up and around soon.”

“Okay, let’s sketch some stair gates. Me and Vic will make them while you’re at school and Dawn takes the munchkins to Mamma Brock’s.”

You nodded and to the sitting area in your room he helped you to come up with a simple solid door on a hinge with horizontal planks anchored by two vertical boards on either side with a board diagonally cut between them. Like small barn doors they would be anchored on hinges that would lock in place on the opposite banister to keep the babies from being able to clamber down the stairs without an adult to guide them. Grey and white were the chosen colors and everyone loved the designs that after supper James and Victor got to measuring the staircases for each at the tops and bottoms while you and Dawn soaked your feet.

Pt 68

All –

@sherala007​, @mariannetora​​, @jesgisborne​, @knitastically​, @catthefearless​​, @theincaprincess, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000​​, @alishlieb​​,

Not nsfw(smut) - @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​

X Marvel-Cast - @himoverflowers​, @theincaprincess​, @changlingkhat​

Brother Dearest - @thorinanddwalinsdwarrowdam​​, @swoopswishsward

[citizen-zero]

Ophelia didn’t JUST go crazy because her ex boyfriend killed her father, okay

Ophelia went mad because her entire narrative arc in Hamlet is defined by patriarchal control and being treated like a child despite being an adult. Her first scene is one in which both her brother and father warn her not to be involved with a man she loves, but the way they do it is so telling.

Laertes offers a compelling reason for her to be careful: no matter how true his love or how good his intentions, Hamlet is a prince and his actions can’t always be his own. If he marries he has to marry for political gains, and Ophelia is the daughter of a court advisor with no title. So Ophelia could never be more than a mistress to him, dearly and truly loved but living in social and moral/religious disgrace, reflecting poorly on herself and on her father and brother. And sure, if Hamlet were king, she’d be well taken care of even if she weren’t married, but there’s still the aforementioned problem of honor. And besides, there’s the bigger problem of Hamlet not being king. If he so chose, Claudius could have Ophelia sent away, or imprisoned, or anything else that Hamlet would have no legal power to stop. So it’s better not to get entangled with Hamlet.

Laertes’ position is one that denies Ophelia happiness, but it’s also one that recognizes she’s an adult woman AND one that is based in practical truths. It’s a position that grants Ophelia time and agency to end things with Hamlet gradually and in a way that lets both of them process the situation. I mean, okay, there’s a certain degree of talking down he does to her, but it strikes me more like the way an older sibling will speak from experience when telling their younger sibling not to do something stupid. Moreover, their conversation is also one where Ophelia has a chance to respond to him in kind and remind him not to be a hypocrite, because Laertes isn’t exactly old either.

But then along comes Polonius to trample all over that. He speaks all over her, gives her no chance to respond, and treats her like a stupid child, comparing her to a bird caught in a trap. Unlike Laertes, he insists that Hamlet must have wicked intent and be seducing her—thereby assuming that Ophelia isn’t adult enough to have romantic or sexual agency. He’s essentially the kind of dad who threatens to do violence to his adult daughter’s boyfriends (well, not exactly, but definitely the same mindset). He refuses to believe Ophelia when she says that Hamlet has been genuine and gentlemanly to her, not trusting that she’s wise enough to recognize when someone is “only after one thing” versus when it’s actual love.

He then goes on to order her to return his letters, to order her to cut off from him completely and immediately (with no chance to process), and to then read some of Hamlet’s words to her to the king and queen, violating their privacy and turning something lovely into a reason for shame. Polonius says Ophelia gives him the “doubt that...” letter out of filial duty, but given his busybody character and how he forced an answer out of her earlier, it’s not too much of a stretch to guess that he forced her to give it to him. Polonius then proceeds to conspire with Claudius to use Ophelia as a tool against Hamlet, putting her in a position to be deeply wounded.

I know a lot of interpretations of the “get thee to a nunnery” scene have Ophelia and Hamlet being both in on the joke, and that’s a valid interpretation that gives Ophelia more agency, but there’s no textual support IMO to suggest that that’s the actual case. You could interpret the scene as Ophelia completely believing that Hamlet is actually scorning and being cruel to her, and frankly, I’m not sure that that scene can’t be played straight on his end either. Maybe Hamlet sees that this is Polonius’ meddling, but maybe he thinks Ophelia is going along with it. In short though, her father’s actions have put Ophelia in a position to be verbally abused by someone who she believes loved her.

(This is somewhat problematized by the later scene where they’re talking during the play. It comes off flirtatious, but that’s all in the tone—you could make it flirty, but you could also make it Ophelia being distant out of obligation to obey her father, while Hamlet’s goading her with sexual jokes. So it’s him once again being kind of a dick at best, cruel at worst).

And the final straw comes when he kills Polonius. Polonius’ death wasn’t the sole cause of Ophelia going mad, but it was the final straw. Sure, her father was a controlling meddlesome asshole, but like...whether we read him as actually abusive or not, Ophelia probably still loved him as her father, complicated love or not. And now she’s an orphan, and it’s all because of the actions of the man she loved.

Like, Hamlet’s actions are understandable from his own perspective. But Ophelia doesn’t know about the ghost, doesn’t know about the murder, knows NOTHING. All she sees is the severe mental deterioration of her boyfriend coupled with the heartbreaking knowledge that her brother and father are right about the relationship not being viable. So she can’t be with him and can’t even stand by him to support him. And then she becomes a pawn in a political game she doesn’t even really understand, her every action directed by powerful men, which results in said boyfriend lashing out at her. And then her boyfriend kills her father for no reason she can understand other than him MAYBE being insane.

So you can see why Ophelia would be a little out of her mind by the time she dies

[sugar-petals]

Caro is it weird that I don’t like brats? In the femdom community they seem to be the most wanted but idk why I rlly dislike brats

if you are an experienced gentle domme who doesn’t enjoy switching, brats might make you uncomfortable. i’ll explain in detail. 

brat taming implies forced submission: but that initially means dom versus dom. that principle doesn’t sit right with GFD and dommes who don’t sub you see. there are those who want the power exhange of subduing and the banter, and there are dommes that like clean submission throughout (i’m one of them).

bratty guys are popular as there are many dommes that enjoy doing a tinge of submission themselves and fighting back from there. the gain of empowerment is more rewarding. it’s particularly attractive to novice dommes who are used to submitting. they want to prove it to themselves if you will, nothing wrong with it. meanwhile, seasoned dommes want obedience to work with. exception: strict-type of mistresses who like say, authority roleplays. anything where sanctions are used. enjoying being strict is useless if your sub isn’t chaotic and bratty, you get the idea.

brats are also popular because the guy usually doesn’t go all the way to submission, did you notice? no threats to mainstream masculinity in brat taming. if there are a lot of bratty subs number-wise is another topic 😉 going by what the majority of sub men are all about, the most popular and wanted submissive ideal should be: classic masochist. if you want to be in demand as a domme, a well-developed sadistic side is a magnet round here. subby guys in this century are mega painsluts, a smaller portion little ones, the rest gfd. that instead, brats are popular in current femdom tells you what many dommes want and are on the other hand. few actual sadists, more switches with punishment kinks who like to toy with men’s dominant side. 

long story short. brat taming is a switch on switch dynamic. i don’t know many exclusively dominant women with a lot of years under their belt who fancy it. if she likes brats to a high degree, you can tell she’s new. why? brattiness is a femdom gateway, you don’t get full-blown submission right away. or, a mechanism to deal with dom men outnumbering available subs, so you eroticise bringing out their hidden side, hoping it’s there at least. especially when you are still tuned to male doms and want to apply your own dominance to them instead of doing that with submissive guys. meaning, you haven’t changed your environment yet. hence: gateway. brat taming is for dommes who are just starting out. does that help understanding your preference?