#servitus

[chill-in-heat]

Societas: a contract of partnership: C 6.1

Servitus: slave status. [0]

We can never take those terms for granted. [1]

It is in order to be sure that this occurrence is not linked with synthesizing operations of a purely psychological kind (the intention of the author, the form of his mind, the rigour of his thought, the themes that obsess him, the project that traverses his existence and gives it meaning) and to be able to grasp other forms of regularity, other types of relations. [2] In trying to fill in the gaps between masochism and sadism, we are liable to fall into all kinds of misapprehensions, both theoretical and practical or therapeutic.[3]

Only an adult can make such distinctions. [4] And I'm not a child anymore! I will make her a good woman, and be sure it will be better both for her and us. [5] The greater part of these things would have to be observed. [6] Voices make noise, so do things. [7] Here we are at once confronted with a rather grave difficulty. [8] But I know how to protect her. How can we heal tics, except by taking the waters? [9] by forgetting. I just need to convince her.

[0] Justinian, The Codex [1] Spuybroek, Grace and Gravity [2] Foucault, Archaeology of Knowledge [3] Deleuze, Masochism Coldness and Cruelty Venus in Furs [4] Only an adult can make such distinctions. [5] Rousseau, Collected Works of Jean-Jacques Rousseau [6] Machiavelli, The Art of War [7] Serres, The Five Senses [8] Grotius, Commentary on the Law of Prize and Booty [9] Serres, Statues

[abr]

Le parole sono importanti (cit.)

La frase detta così è da sinistri, cioè non vuol dire nulla: valori "assoluti" di per se le parole come gli atti non hanno.

Importante delle parole è comprenderne e condividerne il SIGNIFICATO (da signum fero: porto un segnale, un emblema). I cultori delle NEOLINGUE vorrebbero invece imporre significati artificiali cangianti, "più corretti", "adatti ai tempi che cambiano", al fine di influenzare i comportamenti mediante mutamenti del senso (tipo cartelli stradali).

Noi andiamo a cercare radici e significati autentici.

GLEBA: in latino è la zolla di terra, per traslazione é il campo, il fondo da coltivare. La SERVITU' DELLA GLEBA già in epoca tardo romana ("colonato" regolamentato da Diocleziano) e nel Medioevo era una figura giuridica diffusa che legava l'abitante del contado a una determinata area, a un terreno che NON possedeva.

Era una figura formalmente libera ma con obblighi da schiavo: indissolubilmente connesso alla zolla di cui era servo, al punto da esser venduto, con famiglia, assieme ad essa.

Il proprietario poteva multare il colono che uscisse dalla sua "gleba" senza permesso e anche stabilire in quali modi potesse utilizzare i compensi per i suoi servigi extra (la paga base era in natura).

SERVO DELLA GLEBA NELLA NEOLINGUA DIVIENE: "LA CITTA' IN 15 MINUTI".

Non avrete nulla - nemmeno figli - e sarete felici.

[enable--llamas]

hi, could i bother you with a general wcif? i'm looking for some potted floor plants to decorate my interiors with and i was wondering who your go-to creators are, since you always have the nicest looking plants in your spaces 😍

Heyyy, so this is super old but just in case you haven't died of old age yet and are still looking, here are some of my favs below 😅:

1. (Suza Landscape Plant 01 fixed for planters) + 2. (Coronett Plant) are both by Milla and actually potless lol, but they snap to slots and go great with various deco planters;

3. Ung999 - Floor Plant 19 (t$r)

4. Ung999 - Floor Plant 18 (t$r)

5. sim_man123 Tall Berry Stick Vase (t$r)

6. Potted Plants from Monte Vista (or at Blams)

7. Jomsims - Ceiling Plant Nitrium (t$r)

8. sim_man123 - Chinese Evergreen Planter (t$r)

9. Novvvas Ficus Elastica conv by Marta

10. Dine Out Rubber Tree by Mochasims (orig post via The WayBack Machine, direct link here)

11. + 12. Snake Plant and Cactus by Gelina, backup folder by Sweetdevilsims here

13. Bresia Dinette Plant by Blackest_digital_artist (t$r)

14. Servitu Bathroom Plant by Murano (t$r)

[haggishlyhagging]

Having examined marriage, Engels turns his attention to the patriarchal family, as precious to the Victorians as it later became to conservative sociology in the period of reaction. In Engels' tart phrase, the family's "essential points are the assimilation of the unfree element and the paternal authority." "It is founded on male supremacy for the pronounced purpose of breeding children of indisputable paternal lineage. The latter is required because these children shall later on inherit the fortune of their father." Despite the decline of inherited wealth, this is still so; legitimacy is quite as important now, and thought to justify the cost and education of rearing the young in the nuclear family.

The ideal type of the patriarchal family and the ancestor of our own is the Roman family, whence come both the term and the legal forms and precedents used in the West. Originally, the word familia did not, Engels cheerfully informs us

“. . . signify the composite ideal of sentimentality and domestic strife in the present day philistine mind. Among the Romans it did not even apply in the beginning to the leading couple and its children, but to the slaves alone. Famulus means domestic slave, and familia is the aggregate number of slaves belonging to one man . . . The expression [familia] was invented by the Romans in order to designate a new social organism the head of which had a wife, children and a number of slaves under his paternal authority and according to Roman law, the right of life and death over all of them.”

To this, Engels adds Marx's observation that

“the word is, therefore, not older than the ironclad family system of the Latin tribes, which arose after the introduction of agriculture and of lawful slavery . . . The modern family contains the germ not only of slavery (servitus) but also of serfdom. . . It comprises in miniature all those contrasts that later on develop more broadly in society and the state.”

In noting its economic character Engels is calling attention to the fact that the family is actually a financial unit, something which his contemporaries, like our own, prefer to ignore. Due to the nature of its origins, the family is committed to the idea of property in persons and in goods. "Monogamy was the first form of the family not founded on natural but on economic conditions, viz. the victory of private property over primitive and natural collectivism."

Whatever the value of Engels' insistence on the priority of a "primitive and natural collectivism," the cohesion of the patriarchal family and the authority of its head have consistently relied (and continue to do so) on the economic dependence of its members. Its stability and its efficiency also rely upon its ability to divide its members by hierarchical roles and maintain them in such through innumerable forms of coercion—social, religious, legal, ideological, etc. As Engels makes clear, such a collection of persons cannot be said to be free agents. Historically, nearly the entire basis of their association is not affection but constraint: much of it remains so.

-Kate Millett, Sexual Politics

[galaxyedging]

The Thief x f!reader

New Year's Eve Drabbles

A happy ending.

Warnings: smut. P in V sex. Angst. Mentions of war.

Thief. Magician. Pillager. Conqueror. Destroyer. He had many monikers over the centuries. None compared to the one you gave him.

It had tumbled from your lips as you quivered beneath him the first time he had actually let you lay with him. "Mi Amor."

His heart ached with it, even months after you parted after last New Year's Eve. He had chosen you because he was captivated by you. He'd never seen such beauty. It radiated from your very soul. He knew they would love you. That they would be satisfied and he could feed from their satiated lust. And satisfy you did. The FBI Agent. The Boxer. The Criminal. The Protector. Them and the others. They all found what they were looking for. He'd fed from there satisfaction between your legs.

You were truly special. He didn't account for how special. Along with seeing what you needed to know about the men you were sleeping with, all his clients needed to give their full consent, he may be a monster but he isn't that type of a monster, you managed to turn the power he had given you on him. You would talk to him about his favourite things as he cleaned you with his tongue, drinking down the essence of their lust. He kept you longer than he should have just to hear your thoughts on his favourite things, your favourite things. When he returned you to New Year's Eve with no other memory than kissing him at midnight, you somehow returned to him. With each equinox or thinning of the veil you got close. He ached to touch you. To hold you, like he eventually had. To make love to you just once more. The years he let you stay pulled at him. No, you didn't belong with him. He'd convinced himself of that fact. Until he'd sent you back to your world at the time he had took you.

Somehow you still came back, still sort his deal, asked him to be reunited with a love you couldn't remember, a love you didn't recognise. He agreed to give you a chance, as long as you helped to fed him the quenched desires he needed. He was going to show you, show you you were better off without him.

He chose well from all the worlds in his grasp. The Mandalorian who gathered admiring glances where ever he went, a good heart under his armour. The Prince who was desired far and wide, a lover of skill. The Poet and the Artist, a taste of something sustaining beyond love. The DEA Agent, a man of determination, one that could fight to give you whatever your heart desired. The Superhero, an honest man who lived in the light. The Pilot, a fragile soul that you could grow old with. He tried to tempt you with them. He gave you softness with The Dreamer. A tasted of being provided for by The Businessman. A yearning for family with The Warrior. The Vampire had been an attempt to frighten you away from monsters. The Cowboy and The Killer were an attempt to frighten you away from the darker side of man.

None of it work. Even when they made you scream in ecstasy, you still called to him, still yearned for his touch. You lay together a hundred nights in between. You always returned to him. Maybe it was time he tried your company like they did. To find his truth, his path.

Opening the wine he poured two glasses. You would wake soon. The spell would take affect. You would only see enough of him to make you feel safe, to make your choice of if you desired him. If you wanted to share your bed with him.

Your eyes opened and you smiled at him. "Amando." That's all you saw. The solider that went with his army to do better for his people.

You didn't see how his blind faith in his commanders hurt people. How they destroyed villages in the name of their country and there was very little he could do to stop it. They never died by his sword. Never by his hand but he didn't always stop it either. One time he hesitated too long to save a life. For that he was cursed. Cursed to live off the satisfaction of others, cursed to live in servitude. He had long since made peace with it. Until you arrived.

It was like a dream, how you welcomed him into your arms. Your movements unhurried, you savoured each press of his lips, each swept of his tongue, every touch, every moan. As he joined your bodies over and over he expected the epiphany to strike him. Even after your lust was satiated. No moment of clarity came to him, his thoughts were all filled with you. Just you.

"My love." He sobbed against your cheek. As he let his guard down the walls of his spell came down too. You remembered everything. All your time with him. How you had fallen deeply in love with him. His kind soul, his warm heart, his intelligence, his creativity, the way he made you feel, safe, treasured, loved. You remembered his fear about letting you stay, about cursing you too, your agreement to see what other men could offer you.

"Shhhh. It's okay, Mi Amor."

Wrapped in your arms, letting you fully into his heart with no reservations. He finally felt satisfied himself. The tendrils of magic that gripped him withdrew, he felt it leave him. Felt his heart beat g9w it should once again, right against yours. Once more his spell had helped someone find their path. His was with you, free of his curse.

[idislikethissite]

Do you duckduckgo? Do you have Michael Servitus, condemned 1500s theologian, on ebay?

[monpalace]

who wants to read an 800 word word vomit on amoy's (lu oc) backstory?

You will.

cw .. forced prostitution

Amoy (no legal last name) has no family or place to call home.

She grew up in the streets of a town too small to be put on the map, often using thievery to steal what she needed before hiding away in the nearby woods.

To her shock and surprise, she's never been caught or recognized. The villagers would often brush it off as a rodent, or the like.

She was confident (not cocky!) in her abilities and knew how to pick the right person to steal from. She only ever stole what she needed (clothes, bread, and blankets— she's always been a vegetarian so no food)— but that didn't stop the villagers from calling the nearby witch.

It didn't take long for the witch to find and punish her.

A curse that both felt like and was a branding was what Amoy received. It was public and the entire town gathered, like an execution of sorts.

It took her months to heal back to full health— all of which she spent wandering since the villagers burnt down the woods during her branding.

The time between her wandering and finding another village to "settle down in," is blurry, but this one was significantly bigger than the one previous, but just as bad.

Amoy took longer than she would've liked to figure out a system that allowed her to avoid the hiccups that came with such a crime-infested city, but she got by well enough in the first months with the help of another young villager; Link.

They were in similar enough situations. Both in the same age and gender demographic, often picked on by the crueler villagers.

They became quick friends despite Amoy's initial hesitancy.

Conversations of Link joining the royal army and him taking Amoy with him were common when it was just the two of them huddled underneath a ratty blanket in the middle of the afternoon.

(They only ever functioned as people at night. Amoy would constantly tell him he needed a better sleep schedule if he wanted to get the benefits of a knight. Link always told her that he felt better being on the same schedule as her.)

The town only ever knew how to act orderly when the army came around to enlist more members.

Amoy prides herself in not showing emotion but, truthfully, she was rather emotional for the time that led up to Link's departure.

Life continued after he left, naturally. Amoy readjusted well enough to the change. She was alone before Link, she could relearn everything she did as a child.

It was an unlucky run, or one of the soldiers said something about a "suspension," as a joke, or something along those lines— but Amoy was eventually caught by a brothel owner.

Originally repaying her debts by acting as a janitor and assistant to everyone within the brothel, later turned into a sex worker (for regular clients) and escort (for the few political clients in the town) once the owners realized she'd pull in more money that way.

Even before her occupation was changed, Amoy had begun to be called "Betsy," among all the villagers due to her Holstein cow-like "spots."

(She also underwent surgery— unwillingly— to see just how much like a cow she was. That had lasting effects but I'm not about to get into that.)

Link visited the village when he could (which wasn't often), always bringing what he learned from the capital and what he felt she'd enjoy with him.

He'd bring clothes, books (he taught her how to read as he learned), and teach her how to use whatever weapons he'd managed to smuggle out.

He'd buy up her slots for the week with his new soldier money and they'd spend the time together locked in her room huddled together like when they were younger.

Once he caught onto her interest in magic, Link began to bring more books that contained the topic, assuming she'd turned to it to try and undo her curse.

Amoy found her calling in blood magic, and Link was a willing test subject.

Their schedule continues like this for the next several years with promises of him buying her out of her servitude.

Link does, eventually, save up enough money to release her and moves her into the castle since he so quickly moved up the ranks (the Hero of Legend, and all).

Though they were never officially, legally married, the two were engaged.

Because she had no last name to take or give, Link gave Amoy the last name Opal for the fairy charm he gave her as her engagement ring (and the color he preferred to see her in.)

(He had tried to give it to her before he bought her freedom but she turned it away in fear someone would steal it.)

(Her Link, like, dies.. and I haven't worked any of that out, but I do know that he dies in front of her, so pretend I dedicated five paragraphs to that.)

(😋)

[chiefatticcreator]

Rieri and Naomi finally escaped from the sick man and his Crew holding them captive and brainwashed them into Sex Slaves... now they can finally recover and become their true selves again... hungry for Shota Cock with one already close to them to seduce and enjoy

Rieri and Naomi were tired. They had managed to escape, slipping through their bonds after breaking through their brainwashing. a process that had left the two utterly exhausted and spent, but now, after months of sufferign, of slavery, of sexual servitued, the two were finally free.

Free to recover, free to live their lives again, to not have to worry about their 'master', about pleasing them. The two could do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, however they felt like it. There were many things the two busty babes wanted to do now that they had escaped their tormentors, but the one thing that was on their mind above all...

... was finding a hung Shota to have fun with. Now that they didn't have to take care of old men, ugly pigs and the crews, they could return to their true passion, which was to find a cute boy, seduce him, and give him the night of his life.

And, luckily for the two women, they could see a young boy in the street a few meters in front of them. Smiling, Rieri was the first one to approach him.

Her green eyes parklign with lust, her purple hair framign her face as she nelt in front of the boy.

"Hello, sweetie~ Me and my friend here would really like some company for a while, would you be so kind as to have a drink with us?~"

"We'll get you some cocoa while us old ladies have oru drinks." Naomi added, smirking.

Intimidated by the two women, and feeling something inside him tingle as he looked at their bodies, the boy nodded.

+++++

plap plap plap plap plap

The sound of a shota's hips slamming against her own was the most wonderful sound Rieri havd ever heard in her life, and it was made even sweeter by the months of horrible servitude she had just goen through. She was riding him with wantong lust, moaning lewdly as her breasts bounced. Her face forming a pure ahegao as she cried out, feelign the boy's dick as deep inside her as it could go, the young boy grunting in pleasure as well.

He had already cum a few times inside her, but her experienced, shota-draining pussy had made him hard again in seconds and it was about to be the sixth load she'd recieve inside her.

Right next to her, already full of his cum, Naomi had opened her white bliuse, and was pressign her breasts against the boy's mouth, letting him suck on her breasts as she hummed in contentment.

They had missed this.

[musings-of-a-mecha-ghost-girl]

The cold air of the morning penetrated Thekla's lungs as she ran through the dewy field outside of the fortress where they were held, with Revenant keeping a good pace behind. They may have made it out to freedom, but they weren't out of the woods yet. They were actually running into the woods on the other side of the field, but the trees weren't firing crossbow bolts at them, so their chances of survival were better off amongst them. She looked behind to see just how far Revenant might've been, only to find her gaining speed as the growls and snarls of hounds grew closer through the fog. If the circumstances were any different, she might've given them treats, it's a shame she didn't have any on her person. She panted with desperation to turn her run into a sprint, the air filling her lungs feeling like pins and needles poking her from the inside. She noticed Revenant pick up something out of the corner of her eyes, then proceeded to twist whatever it was and toss it behind her. Thekla's pace almost slowed as she couldn't help but try to notice what was it her weapon had just thrown until it dawned on her by the motion of Revenant's hands shaking like something had been stuck in them. She threw a hedgehog! She snapped its neck and tossed it as a distraction. One of the hounds fell for it, while the other was still on their tail, growling and snarling for reasons the hound probably didn't even fully understand. Revenant was caught up with Thekla, which was surprising given that she had been using her teeth to pry hedgehog quills out of her hand and spit them out like olive pits. It was then that Thekla remembered something... they were in the Attikian peninsula, and that the hedgehogs there had developed a toxin that covers their quills.

"Wait...... Rev-"

She struggled to speak while gasping for air, trying to keep herself from exhaustion, before hearing a whistle coming from the fog. The dog stopped in its tracks and looked in the direction of the whistle, its ears perked, before running back to the source of whatever the whistling was. They were at the edge of the woods and making their way into it, but slowing their pace out of necessity to not trip over anything.

"Rev-Revy.... th-that was..." Thekla took a large gasp and coughed. "A toxicochoiros..."

Revenant handed Thekla a flask that just happened to be on the person of one of the guards they stole clothes from. Thekla drank from the flask before stopping to check Revenant's hand.

"The toxin is only effective if it touches your blood directly..."

She held Revenant's hand in hers and poured water over her palm where the quills penetrated her. She noticed for a second how surprisingly soft, yet firm her hands were, and how her fingers were slender. She squeezed the entry points to make sure that there wasn't anything oozing out besides blood as Revenant stood there and let her. Would she have, even a month ago? Thekla couldn't help but notice how much they learned to trust each other and lean on each other throughout their entire odyssey, trying to chase those rebels. Now there was something there, something palpable and real. A connection that brought them closer together despite everything.

Thekla caught herself staring intently at Revenant's hand as the squeezing turned into her thumbs massaging the thriceborn's palm. She looked up at Revenant, whose cheeks were a shade of red just barely perceivable. Thekla pulled her hand away and blushed in return.

"Come on, let's keep going through the woods. I don't know why they didn't follow us in here, but I don't want to be in here long enough to find out."

Revenant nodded and stumbled to follow her. After trekking through the woods, they finally made it to the other side, where they came face to face with the reason why they weren't followed in. They were trapped. Just outside of the treeline was a cliff that fell into a river below.

"Shit!"

Thekla paced, cursing and questioning her gods for the relevance of her servitude. She stopped and angrily tapped her foot on the ground, trying to calm herself down before noticing that her companion had been on her knees, drawing something in the mud with a stick. It was an illustration of a battle plan where the soldiers, as represented by triangles, were outside of the woods, represented by different triangles with rectangles on the bottom. Her and Thekla were represented by two circles on the other side of the forest next to a line. The woman looked up at Thekla, her expression serious as her bushy eyebrows were furrowed. As Thekla knelt down next to her, she began to draw a poppy flower next to them before drawing lines with arrows from the triangles leading to the circles.

"They're going to wait for us to pass out before moving in on us?"

Revenant nodded.

"Okay... so what do we do? The only idea I'm thinking of is jumping into the river, but that could be suicidal for us."

Revenant got up off her knees and headed towards the ledge. She looked down and motioned for Thekla to join her. She stood beside her and looked up at her face, just now really taking in how tall she was compared to her. If Thekla was 165 cm, then Revenant stood at 172 cm. It was surprising how taller, yet not much taller she was, given the demanding presence she held in every room she walked in. Thekla looked down at something Revenant was pointing at: a slight ledge with some roots growing out of the wall of the cliffside just beneath them covered in the mist of the rapids.

Thekla was frustrated by all of this, because she was without her staff, which if she had, she could just use the mysteries of her faith to transfigurate her usual hooks and chains out of the staff to bridge them to the other side of the valley. She didn't know if she could even do the same thing without her staff or some other large form of metal to use as the basis.

Faint voices started coming out from off in the distance. As they got closer they became louder and more comprehensive. The two women's ears perked as they listened for the voices in the distance, hoping that they had maybe given up.

"Are we sure they're asleep? It's still daytime."

"With how much they were running, there's no chance they're not at least tired, which is good enough for me."

A third voice chimed in.

"Well, yeah, but have you ever heard of The Revenant sleeping? Would it even need to? Are thriceborn even people at that point?"

"Oh, it sleeps. My cousin, who's stationed in Dagoni, says that he saw it sleeping one time. Even says that it eats and shits too."

"Gross, I'd be damned to wonder what that smells like..."

Thekla started tapping her feet again while Revenant gave a bewildered sigh and began to climb down the cliff. Thekla moved to the cliff to follow suit before noticing that Revenant's hand that was afflicted with the hedgehog toxin had lost grip, leaving the woman beneath her wide eyed. She stared at her hand and shook it, trying to wake it up before she began to slowly slide down the cliff.

"Hang on Rev!"

Thekla slid to her knees and off the cliff, catching herself with one hand still gripping the ledge while the other reached out for her partner, digging her feet into the side of the cliff as much as possible. Revenant pushed herself closer to Thekla, reaching with her good hand to clasp Thekla's forearm as she tried to pull her up. Thekla strained to hold on to Rev while pulling herself up by the other arm, closing her eyes, her muscles struggling. Before she knew it, her grip was slipping, and she was sliding into the cliff. No matter how much she pulled and strained and grunted, she could not keep Revenant and herself from falling.

It was almost over for them, yet she held fast onto Revenant's arm. There was no more slipping and sliding for them; they were free falling down the cliffside. Not like this, she couldn't let it end like this. She had to continue on, if not for herself, then for the possibility that the person she was saving could live a normal life someday.

"I Will survive this, we will live to see uninteresting times."

As she reached out in desperation to the cliff above her, she felt something projectile from her fingertips, causing an immense amount of pain to spike up her arm as they stopped falling. She looked on in terror as small chains tipped with hooks caught themselves in the cliff edge above. Thekla cried out in pain as the chains started slowly pulling them up the side. She didn't give up, crying out in agony as two more chains burst out of her forearm and added more support to the hooks that were already pulling the two bodies up. It was almost as if the gods were telling her that the price of their survival was going to be paid in blood and agony. She dug her feet into the cliff and began to walk up the side, her muscles pulsing with the amount of pressure they were under. Not paying attention to how much blood she was losing from the open wounds with metal protruding out of them.

"Fuck!"

With one last cry of agony, Thekla fell unconscious, and the chains evaporated, leaving gaping wounds in their wake in her fingertips and across her forearm.

It was Revenant's turn. As they fell, she pulled Thekla in closer to her and made sure to cover her head with one of her hands as they fell into the river. Revenant moved onto her back and quickly maneuvered her legs to point downstream so that if she couldn't avoid any boulders, they'd at least not hit her in the head. They floated downstream before Revenant saw a bank that she began paddling her way towards, all while trying to keep Thekla's wounds above water. They made it.

I noticed an inconsistency way too late, but let's just say that Revenant used her limp hand to cover Thekla's head. Because the other one would need to not be numb to hold her. I'm too tired to fix it.

[lavanderlumien]

This is Queen Taura!

Taura uses the Title of Queen even tho he isnt a women. Taura is the Queen of the icey forbidden lands, as he does his best to keep a terrible creature captive in his icey cold storms. The Kingdom derfore is nearly for most creatures and human's uninhabitable, even tho many MANY centires back it was a beauitful warm Kingdom that got curupted by a creature of death and decay.

Taura used to serve this creature for some time, but soon his servitute was no longer a choice. By the time Taura was powerful enough to freeze the creature in his ice, he no longer had the trust and compation, or love or care he once had. His heart became cold out of necesity for survival and to keep the evil King at bay. After all, his chains of servitue are unbroken, even now with his freedom, he does not have a choice but to make sure no one, EVER, breaks the Ice that the creature, the evil King Zaul, resides in. Taura will not hesiate to kill any intruder willing to try and take him down. He doesn't bother to negoiate or explain his situation to intruders, he was let down one to many times, and does not believe anyone would ever willingly listen or help him.

[manixdemintaka]

(vía DIVIDE, ET IMPERA: SERVITUS - CAP. 1)

[sims2ccfindsbyck]

[rausule]

Bestias, Homines, Asini.

Augustinus Hipponensis

homines, dum sibi quisque ducere conetur. Cuius superbiae signum turris illa in coelum elata est, cum impii inter se non affectu solum, sed etiam ore meruerunt habere discordiam. [...]

Duae sunt rationes quare quid scriptum sit, non intellegitur: cum significatum est vel ignotis vel ambiguis signis. Notae deinde propriae vel translatae sunt. Eos dicimus, cum eos ad significandum res ad quae instituta sunt utimur, ut bos dicimus et domesticum animal, quod una nobiscum omnes, qui se Latine exprimunt, hoc praenomen appellant. Signa, quando res significamus nominibus eorum, accipiuntur ad aliud significandum: bovem dicimus et cum his duabus syllabis animal intelligimus, quod hoc nomine consuevimus appellare; sed hoc animali etiam significat illum qui evangelium praedicat, quod scriptura significat, iuxta interpretationem apostoli, dicente: bovi trituranti non alligabis. [...]

Ambiguitates autem ex verbis metaphoricis, quas posthac tractabimus, notabilem attentionem et applicationem requirunt. Imprimis autem cavendum est ne in sensu litterali figuraliter accipiatur. Apostoli hoc ipsum referunt: Littera occidit, spiritus autem vivificat, carnaliter intellectum, nec aptius mors animae datur, quam cum sectatur. sensus litteralis, etiam qui facit animam bestiis superiorem, scilicet intelligentiam, subiecta est carni. Nam quicumque sequitur sensum litteralem intelligit translata verba quasi propriam significationem, nec refert ad aliam significationem quod significatur per sensum litteralem, sicut si audiat 'sabbatum' significat unum tantum septem dierum. quae succedunt ordine certo; et cum audit sacrificare, cogitationes ejus non transcendunt sacrificium, quod fieri solet per sacrificia animalia, et oblationem terrae. Denique miserabilis est animae servitus, ut res perciperet signa, nec possit mentis oculum supra corporalem creaturam attollere, ut aeternum lumen hauriat.

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Our Matriarch Domina Angelina, long time member of the BDSM and Leather community, trailblazer, Educator, Activist, Muse and head of #servitusfamily, Founder of #cageofthesoul is featured in The Advocate @theadvocatemag Photos by #carmellelasirena So proud of Her and of all Her accomplishments that are too many to list. Love love love! 💙🖤💙🖤 LINK IN BIO #safenottame #BDSMFamily #myMentor #Anya #cageofthesoul #embracechaos #servitus #dungeonservitus

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Egbert van Panderen, Mors ultima linea rerum (Servitus Carnis), ca. 1610-1620

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C’est là mon siège. J’essaie de m’en rendre la domination pure, et à soustraire ce seul coin à la communauté et conjugale, et filiale, et civile. Partout ailleurs je n’ai qu’une autorité verbale : en essence confuse. Misérable à son gré qui n’a chez soi où être à soi, où se faire particulièrement la cour, où se cacher !L’ambition paie bien ses gens de les tenir toujours en montre, comme la statue d’un marché : “magna servitus est magna fortuna ”.

Je vis du jour à la journée ; et, parlant en révérence, ne vis que pour moi : mes desseins se terminent là. J’étudiais, jeune, pour l’ostentation ; depuis un peu, pour m’assagir ; à cette heure, pour m’ébattre ; jamais pour le quest . Une humeur vaine et dépensière que j’avais après cette sorte de meuble, non pour en pourvoir seulement mon besoin, mais de trois pas au-delà pour m’en tapisser et parer, je l’ai piéçà abandonnée.

Les livres ont beaucoup de qualités agréables à ceux qui les savent choisir ; mais aucun bien sans peine : c’est un plaisir qui n’est pas net et pur ainsi que les autres ; il a ses incommodités et bien pesantes ; l’âme s’y exerce, mais le corps, duquel je n’ai non plus oublié le soin, demeure cependant sans action, s’atterre et s’attriste. Je ne sache excès plus dommageable pour moi, ni plus à éviter à cette déclinaison d’âge.

(via Ma Librairie: Une brassée d'images (4) Le château de Michel de Montaigne)