#women got me acting truly unwise. is all i have to say about her

[dangoulains-devotion]

counting bodies like sheep

[redjadethewriter]

Age Superiority and Toxic Views on Age Differences in Blank The Series

Yes, I'm back to ranting about this series. You would think I had enough by now, but there's so much to talk about that my mind goes rampant, thinking about it. Okay... Let's get into it.

First, age superiority is a silly thing. I'm not gonna lie; it erks me.

Storytime to start this off.

Once, I shared with someone the secret to my youthful appearance, saying, “I hang around a lot of young people.” This statement made him laugh uncontrollably, likely because of the sly grin on my face as I said it. However, my words were both a joke and a reflection of my true beliefs. I hold a great deal of respect for the younger generations and have cultivated a mindset that values respect for all individuals, regardless of their age, gender, culture, or ethnic background.

My guiding motto is simple: “I respect those who respect me.” If someone shows disrespect towards me, it matters little what their status, wealth, or accomplishments may be—I will not tolerate it. In such situations, I prefer to turn my back and walk away, as no one is deserving of my time and energy, not even in pointless arguments. Overcoming highly emotional states and the passage of time have taught me this lesson.

As time goes on, some things can be learned, while others require dedicated effort and experience to truly grasp. My effort has always been about becoming aware, and the only way to gain awareness is through knowledge and experience. However, some go through life not learning from their mistakes or grow from certain experiences. Some choose to ignore the surrounding people, not listen to them, or have a superiority complex, especially around younger folk or someone who’s less fortunate. This triggered me in Blank the Series. Look, I understand certain cultures its ingrained in us to respect our elders. I come from a background as such. It may not be an Eastern Asian background, but it parallels on a similar level.

Okay, let me share my opinion on something that bothered me in the series, even though I know the story intentionally crafted it that way. In the novel, I can understand why everyone would treat Anueng like a child. After all, she was written as only 18 years old, and in my country, we still consider that too young. However, in the series, she was 20, almost 21. At that age, I had a lot more freedom compared to her. I had a job; I was going to university; I was going out, drinking, and even hooking up with older women facing no judgment from my parents or society. Although the standards in my country may be more relaxed, it’s not something that would shock anyone, I know.

So, when I watched Anueng, an adult woman, being treated as less than an adult, it really bothered me. Yes, she acted annoying most of the time, but I understood she used it as a way to get a reaction from Khun Knueng and to hide her true feelings. It was her way of wearing a mask, just like we all do. I mean, who really acts like themselves in public?

Throughout the show, I witnessed a scared Anueng who simply wanted others to see her as an adult and not subject her to abuse, control, or assumptions about her best interests. She wanted to be able to decide for herself and express her true feelings. And let me tell you, I’ve worked in retail and have interacted with people of all ages, from 18 to senior years. I’ve talked to them, listened to them, and got to know them. And using age as a measure of superiority is just plain dumb. I’ve met older people who make unwise choices and never learn from them, while I’ve also met young people who are wise beyond their years. So, I never judge a book by its cover.

Some young people I’ve had the privilege of getting to know have had experiences just as crazy as mine, if not crazier than someone twice their age. And then there are those who still have a lot to learn. That’s why I never assume their level of experience. And that’s also why older women who dated me were okay with pursuing a relationship with me. They saw my book was thick, filled with experiences and wisdom or… I was just a good…cough… LOL!

So, in the series, when Khun Knueng invited Folk to the amusement park, I couldn’t help but interject. Assuming Anueng would be bored with the adults infuriated me. I coughed and said, “Excuse me, but she’s an adult, too.” It’s unfair to assume that a 20-year-old wouldn’t enjoy the company of 36-year-olds. “What the fuck are you talking about,” I thought. That girl would have a blast with me. I’m sure she would have had an awesome time with Khun Nueng if she wasn’t falling for the Fah’s cruel antics to gain the love of her daughter after abandoning her most of her life.

Rant moment about Fah:

“Excuse me, I don’t care if you gave birth to Anueng. You're a dang stranger to her and you have to earn her love. At this rate, you’re just a child yourself, pretending to be a mother.” I’m not sorry for saying it, but Anueng deserves so much better. If Fah truly wanted to be a part of her daughter’s life, she would have defied her own mother and been there from the beginning. But she didn’t. She only showed up when Anueng turned 20, after all the difficult times were over, and suddenly wanted to play the mother role. Hell no. Even if there wasn’t a romantic involvement between Anueng and Khun Nueng, Khun Nueng acted more like a mother figure than both the biological mother and grandmother did. Family doesn’t have to be defined by blood relations. I can easily envision a scenario where a lonely artist adopts a mistreated, abandoned girl, and they become a genuine family. Then, the royal grandmother would throw a fit over Khun Nueng adopting a daughter. Oh my, that would just cause a stir.

But back to age insecurities.

Even to this day, as a 38-year-old, I still ride rollercoasters and explore various interests. It’s why young people are drawn to me everywhere I work and go. I have a wide range of interests that appeal to people of all ages. I can spend hours talking and listening to 19-year-olds and those in their twenties without any of us getting bored. It’s all about having charisma that goes beyond the norm.

Moreover, it was clear to anyone that Anueng truly desired to spend her birthday with Khun Nueng. However, following Fah’s orders, Khun Nueng attempted to distance herself from Anueng. This action deeply hurt Anueng, especially because she expected someone she loved to offer support and not to push her away. I couldn’t help but exclaim, “Oh, my gosh! It’s her birthday! Can you please respect that she’s an adult? It’s her special day, and she wants you to acknowledge that!”

In romantic relationships, simply being in the same space as the person you are interested in, even with no activities, is not boring at all. However, it is important to note that Khun Nueng has never experienced being in love or loving someone before, which justifies her ignorance in this matter. Nevertheless, I cannot stress enough that Anueng is not naïve. She can sense that Khun Nueng’s feelings for her run deeper than she lets on. This is why it was incredibly frustrating for her to get Khun Nueng to be open and honest about her emotions.

Eventually, in the end of episode 4, Khun Nueng reached a breaking point. She grabbed Anueng by the arm, preventing her from walking away, and expressed her desire for her to stay. Furthermore, in episode 5, she attempted to convince the family that Anueng wanted to remain in Thailand and even volunteered to help her study and prepare for the university entrance exam. Ultimately, her efforts succeeded.

Spoiler alert: Since I read the novel, I’m going to reveal the chaotic age insecurities Khun Nueng has. I don’t think they will use the scene in the series, but Anueng and Khun Nueng go on a run together. Khun Nueng basically can’t keep up with her and automatically goes into doom and gloom about getting older and not being able to physically keep up with Anueng’s stamina. I laughed so hard at that passage in the book that I cried because I couldn’t breathe from laughing so dang hard. I’m like, “Woman, how long has it been since you’ve done legit exercise such as running?” Because I know that being an artist, you are not active in heavier impact exercises. “Girl, please. At 36, I was running circles around ladies younger than me. I could sprint 3 miles and lift 50 to 75 pounds daily, like the bitch of steel.” I’ve met 40- and 50-year-old women that could break me in half. So, please… don’t feed me that bullshit. Age is not a factor in performance; it’s keeping up with activities and pushing your body to work that keeps you mobile and strong as fuck to take on a lady in her 20s with no issues. I’ve known 70-year-olds that can out-bench ladies younger than them. No one can use the excuse of age with me.

Now, I can see certain challenges that come with being in a romantic relationship with someone younger. One major factor is the ability to connect with them, considering the generational gap. Different time periods bring different mindsets. Khun Nueng, 36, probably grew up in a time when same-sex relationships were deemed unacceptable. I can relate to that. Being 38, I witnessed the tail end of a time when it was dangerous to be a lesbian. Nevertheless, I understand her concerns about being forgotten. In episode 6, she expressed her fear that Anueng will eventually make new friends, flirt with other people, and move on. But honestly, I can’t help but think and laugh. “Yeah, right! No one’s ever gonna leave you, let alone forget about you.” A woman like Khun Nueng leaves an indelible mark on your soul. Her eyes pierce through you like daggers, leaving you exposed. She’s fierce and full of spice. No one will forget Khun Nueng for generations to come. She’s absolutely crazy, in the best way possible.

Khun Nueng…Just openly love that girl already, and stop torturing yourself like a masochistic princess. We all know you’re head over heels for her. She’s an adult, so let go of your worries. Thank you.

[punkpoemprose]

December 16th- Bias and Bikinis

Universe: 1950′s AU/ Country Club AU

Rating: T (Teen & Up, Anna flirting in a bikini, swearing like once)

Length: 2015 Words

A/N: Oh you know I had to write Anna into one of these slamming 50′s bikinis. I apologize for nothing, except not showing you more! So here’s Rich Girl! Anna flirting with Pool Boy! Kristoff! Inspired in part by a post (that I can’t find) where @awesomemaple and I talked about Anna showing up around Kristoff in something both sweet and appropriate and simultaneously excessively suggestive, just to see him sweat. I will absolutely write that specific fic sometime very soon (once I find the post, I’m so sorry) but until then, here’s a taste of what that’s going to look like.

Anna was not flirting with the pool boy, that would be against club policy and she was a respectable young lady. No, she wasn’t flirting with the pool boy. She was torturing him.

She had, however, been flirting with him the first week the pool opened for the summer. She’d bought herself drink after drink after drink because he was cute, and it meant that she could shown him her ID. She thought that maybe a wink and the proof that she was 18, old enough to drink, old enough to do… other things… might be enough for him to catch her drift, but for a while it didn’t really seem to get her anywhere with him. Either he didn’t notice, or he wasn’t sure of what to make of her, and she wanted to, at least, interest him enough to get him to talk to her.

She upped her game after that, finding the courage to just come out and ask him if he was doing anything after work. She’d put her best charm into it, smiling and fluttering her eyelashes. He, in return, had rather gruffly told her that he didn’t want to be “a rich girl’s summer romance”.

It had hurt her in the moment. She was certain that he hadn’t meant for it to hurt her thought, He’d given her an apologetic look that almost made up for her discomfort and embarrassment, but the assumptions he’d already made about her with those words cut deep. Was she a rich girl? Yes. Was she looking for a summer romance? Also, yes. But, also no.

He was attractive and she di want to go on a date with him, but she wasn’t looking for some kind of whirlwind kiss and tell summer romance to tell girls about in the dorms, she wanted something serious. Whether that was love or friendship or neither was based on compatibility. She’d ended a romance before because of a “whirlwind” and she certainly wasn’t looking for another.

She was torturing him, and she did feel a little guilty about it, but not enough to stop. She came to the pool everyday she could, lips red, hair pinned perfectly and laid herself out on a deck chair under a shady umbrella. She’d read books in her bikini, ordering cokes and otherwise ignoring Kristoff Bjorgman’s general existence, even when she took her drink from him and slid him a tip like he was just anyone else.

It was a win-win. She had plenty of reading she wanted to get done before starting college in the fall, and she could watch him watching her from behind her dark sunglasses without giving him even the slightest bit of satisfaction. She wore two-pieces she’d seen described in magazines as “sweet” and “flattering” or “curve-enhancing”. She put a great level of effort into selecting the styles and patterns that perfectly walked the line of tasteful and utterly devastating for any man looking at her. She’d had her sister help her in the decision-making process and she couldn’t deny the results.

Sometimes when she knew his eyes were on her, she’d casually reposition herself, arch her back, shift her hips, angle herself so he got a better look at the strip of bare skin between her top and bottoms, just below the curve of her breasts.

She would never admit it out loud, but every time she did so, a little voice in the back of her head would tell him to suffer. And suffer he did. She enjoyed watching him sweat, and tug at his collar, knowing that it was her and not the sun making him uncomfortable. It was almost the end of the summer when he’d finally had enough to pull her aside.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he muttered under his breath. Anna had to do all she could to hide a pleased smile from her face.

“What’s that?” she asked, feigning innocence and tucking her sunglasses into her bag. She’d just been planning to change and head out for the evening when he’d approached her. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He shook his head and she took great pride in how red he got when he gestured to her and waved his hands a bit. That he found her so attractive that he assumed she needed no other explanation was flattering to say the least. It also spoke to her ability to see a plan through, and she almost giggled about that particular element.

“Oh! My bathing suit?” she asked, “I’m sorry if you find this one makes you uncomfortable. I’ve worn several others this summer. Is there one you prefer I switch it out with? Maybe the blue one with the little bow between my…”

He turned eve redder, and she thought perhaps it was unwise to make advances while half-naked to a man well over twice her size, but if the way he’d spent the whole summer looking at her like a man starved and then immediately averting his eyes was any indication of character, he was a gentleman, not a player. She knew as much to begin with, of course. She’d done her research before she’d started being interested in him in the first place, and she’d heard from several very reliable sources that he was going into his senior year of college and had a sparkling reputation. Knowing that, and seeing the way he was looking at her like he was about to burst, was what drove her to add, “You did seem to like that one.”

His eyes went wide, and she was certain with the way he was swallowing and fidgeting that the cat well and truly had his tongue. Oh how she’d like to be that cat. For all her “payback” she was still interested in him. She suspected that she wouldn’t have tried even half as hard to befuddle him all summer long had she not been interested, but he was cute and respectful when she wasn’t making it hard for him to be so, and underneath it all, she was hoping that he’d start flirting back. She’d spent just as many hours over the summer fantasizing about him walking over and kissing her as he’d spent enjoying the view of her in her blue bikini.

“You were doing it on purpose,” he said, deflating a bit, and frowning which was what upset her far more than admitting that she had been teasing him, encouraging and enticing him.

“Guilty,” she said, and flushed a bit herself, giving him a sheepish smile. She couldn’t take it back now, and she didn’t want to. She was interested in seeing where this would take them, and she could only hope that he would understand that her interest in him had been genuine.

“So what was it all? Just a way to make fun and watch me panic from behind those shades of yours, or…?”

She sighed, feeling less confident about the whole thing and a lot more guilty. It had never really been about making fun of him, so much as it had been meant to be a tease. She’d just wanted to show him what he was missing out on, to give him a little taste of his own medicine, making him want what he can’t have, even though she’d really have him in a minute if he wanted her too.

“No. Well, I mean it was intentional and I was watching you sometimes through my shades, but I never intended to poke fun. Just… I just wanted you to know what it felt like for me to be there with you looking so nice every day. I just wanted…” she trailed off, leaving it there and hoping that she hadn’t just upset him terribly.

“Me?” he asked, sounding a bit incredulous, “In this getup?”

Truly she did imagine he’d look better out of the club’s uniform shirt and trousers, but even in them he was quite handsome. She particularly liked his eyes, soft and earthy and expressive in a way that when he looked at her, she felt warm, and it was, once again, no fault of the sun’s. When he smiled it brightened her mood immensely. He flushed a bit, like her compliment had caught him off-guard, like he wasn’t used to someone thinking he was handsome.

She nodded, “Yes! I didn’t ask you out because I thought you were unattractive. I’ve been told I’m a fool, but I don’t think I’m that bad.”

He seemed taken aback by that, but she didn’t worry so much about it because his expression went soft.

“Aw hell, you mean that… all that… what you said before…” he trailed off and slouched a bit, making himself seem smaller in the space as he realized the situation they’d been in a bit more clearly. Anna found it rather endearing when he gave her a nervous smile.

“I’m sorry! It’s just… I was a goof. Look usually when someone seems interested in me, it’s just an act. I know I’m a big guy, I’m clumsy sometimes, I don’t really know how to talk to… Anyway, I know the way I am, so I just… I’ve been made the fool once or twice so I’m a little defensive. I didn’t realize you meant it when you wanted to meet me after work, so I just went for the best answer I could think of.”

He seemed nervous and more than a bit shy, so instead of pushing even harder than she already was, particularly given she was still in her bathing suit, she reached into her bag for a pen. Even though she’d just spent the entirety of the summer teasing him, his admission of fear stemming from the ways other women had treated him broke her heart. She understood a bit more about why he’d been so quick to deny her without any real knowledge of her intentions.

She reached out and touched his hand gently once she found her pen. His hand, that had been balled up at his side, tentatively relaxed at her touch. She smiled at that and gently pressed his hand open with her fingers. There was an intimacy in the act, one different than the one she’d experienced over the summer when he’d been watching her, and it made her heart race. When his palm was open he gave her a look that was something between nervous and curious.

She flushed under the scrutiny of his gaze as she removed the cap from her felt-tipped pen and jotted down her home phone number, her name, and the hours between which he could call her. She blew on his hand, getting so close that she almost smudged her lipstick against his hand as she dried the ink. It was another strangely intimate action, and she felt his hand shake slightly under her attention.

“Give me a ring?” she asked curiously, releasing his hand to allow it to once more fall at his side. That he didn’t ball it up again was something that she counted as a win.

She saw the corner of his mouth turn up as she tossed the pen back into her bag, preparing to leave finally, for the day.

“I will. Right after I get out, if that’s alright?”

She liked that answer well and truly and gave him a last nod and smile before stepping away to go and change into her dress and head home for the day.  

If the smile she caught sight of as she walked away was any indication, he’d decided better of his opinion on summer romances with rich girls. Whether it be because the fact that she was the right girl in question, or whether it be because the summer was almost over, Anna didn’t know. She did, however, like to think that it was the former.

She touched her fingers lightly to her lips, where they’d almost pressed into his palm, and hurried herself off to home, where she’d wait anxiously by the phone for his call.

[babyloontrash]

Wedding Day (C.H.)

Summary: Calum on a wedding day. Words: 4,5k Note: Don't hate me, please.

Today was the day.

It had been marked in his calendar for months. A large notice with the word 'WEDDING‘ written in all capitals and filling up the whole space for that day. As if there was any need for that. How dumb and ignorant he would have to be to forget about such an important day? There was a bunch of cute doodles it too, in a pink and red gel pen, the glittery kind. She was the one who put it all down, and he could still remember how wide were her eyes and how bright was the smile she wore then. Even just the thought of that moment made him smile. Figuring out the perfect date was not an easy task. Not when she had this day planned out pretty much ever since she was seven. Though there had been some changes made during the years. For example, she no longer insisted on having a bouncing castle on her reception, nor making each of the guests bringing a pet with them. Those were brilliant plans if anyone asked him, but she had just rolled her eyes and laughed when he brought this point up. Hearing that laugh had made his heart flutter and to be honest, he would have no problem with making both the bouncing castle and the puppies really happen.

She had stated that the only thing she really needed from him on that day to be truly happy is to not have him bail on her in the last minute. "If you won’t be there when I’ll be walking down the aisle, I swear to God that I am gonna find you and make you pay real bad for hurting me like that.“

He had no doubts that she would really be capable of doing that. She did not look exactly terrifying when she had said those words out loud, considering that she was rather tipsy and both of her arms were wrapped around his neck as she needed the support so she wouldn't trip, but he believed her. He knew his girl well enough. There was nothing she needed to worry about, of course, he would be there. He loved her and she meant the world to him. Always had and always would. Forget all the fame and the money he had earned, not even the awards he and his band won could compare to how amazing it was to have her in his life and to how happy he felt when she sent him one of those smiles that were reserved for him. Of course, he would be there.  Looking nice and sharp. Just for her.

They had only talked together on the phone last night. Her girlfriends had planned a sleepover of a kind and he was not allowed, naturally. She had sneaked into the bathroom though just to give him a call and ask how he was doing. She needed to hear his voice. It wasn’t like she had any doubts about the next day. Not at all. God, she had been waiting to marry and spend the rest of her life with him for so long. The scenarios of the guests not making it in time, the weather acting up, the cake not being as good as she had wanted it to and so on were filling her mind and driving her crazy. She wanted her wedding day to be perfect and he understood, allowing her to vent to him for as long as she needed before assuring her that it would be okay. Everything would be fine. Even if something would end up going wrong, it was not like it would matter that much anyway. Even if it would rain and her uncle got drunk and caused a scene, she was going to be a married woman on the end of the day and that’s what it was about. The love was the most important. Years later, she for sure wouldn’t even remember any of those things she was stressing about. Listening to all that did help her calm down. But maybe it wasn’t about what words were being said but about who had been saying them. He always seemed to have this soothing effect on her. There was something in the way he spoke that made her feel that yes, everything would turn out to be okay. And if it wouldn’t, well, she would always have him. "Don’t you dare to cry when you see me in the dress,“ she warned him playfully in the end, just before they were about to hang up because her friends had figured that she was missing and they got afraid that she's talking with the groom. "You know how puffy your eyes get afterwards and I can’t have you look like a mess on the pictures.“ He didn’t get to make any promises since the call had already ended, but truth be told, it would be rather unwise to make such promise anyway. Calum did not cry very often but he was rather sure that seeing her in her wedding dress, walking down the aisle would bring him to his knees.

As he put on his clothes he couldn't help but wonder about what would she look like, even though that he was going to see her in just a few hours. What dress would she be wearing? He remembered her liking bunch of these lacy ones. But that was long before the proposal even happened. Or maybe she would wear the kind with the skirt looking as if it was made of cotton candy... She always made fun of those, but then again, there was a time when she was joking about getting married to him out of all the possible people one day. Nothing was impossible. It didn't matter what dress she chose though, Calum was sure that she would look absolutely amazing. Little her always talked about how this would be her princess moment. Smiling, he went back to those memories in his mind. His fingers carefully buttoning up the shirt she picked with him specially for this occasion while joking about how if she wasn't engaged, she would have a great dilemma when trying to decide whether she wants to tear the shirt off or ask him to keep it on because he looked so good in it. Calum was right in the middle of tying his tie when  Ashton's head peaked into the room. "You ready mate?" He asked and Calum simply nodded his head. He didn't even hear him walk inside but that didn't come as a much of a surprise with how loudly the music was playing. Ashton went to complain about that right after he turned it off, telling him how he had spent at least five minutes in front of the front door, waiting for him to let him in. "When you weren't coming I had to use the spare key. Part of me got worried that you decided to stay at home... I mean, I wouldn't blame you. You know my opinion on this." Calum didn't let him tell anything else, piercing him with a glare in the mirror. "I know. I know. Sorry. My opinion doesn't matter. You love her and you want to do this." "Exactly. Just be a good friend and say that you support this decision." There was a moment of silence. "I am a good friend and I support you. No matter what. You know that," Ashton finally said and then smoothed the jacket Calum put on. "You look great. Very handsome. Girls and women of all ages are gonna get weak in their knees when they see you." In the whole world, there was only one girl that truly mattered to him though.

"I am not going to play wedding with you. It's dumb." He kicked the ball towards her in hopes that she would kick, or maybe throw it back so they could play with it instead. "It is not!" She argued and her hands settled on her hips. Such a stupid gesture. His sister and his mum did the same thing when they wanted no more arguments from him. The ball stayed just a few steps away from her. If she moved a little bit to the left... "It's not dumb," he said in the end. Anything to make her stand and look differently at him. He didn't like the expression on her face. She seemed angry with him and he didn't like that. "I just don't want to... How about we play the spy thing. I will play the villain." She clearly couldn't say no to that, right? Everyone always wants to play the cool spy. It's way better than playing a bride. What they do anyway? Walk with some flowers in their hands. That's boring. "The last time you were over and I played the goalkeeper, you promised that I would get to choose what we play next time." God. He really did promise that. "You were an awful goalkeeper..." "That doesn't matter! We played what you wanted and now it's my turn. Or do you want me to tell your mum that you are a liar who doesn't keep their promises?" The frowned expression was gone. Her chin pushed forward and she looked at him almost with a triumph. Calum let out a heavy sigh, kicking the little stone that was near his foot away."That's not true. You know that." "It will be if you won't play with me."

To be honest, it didn't turn out to be as bad as he thought it would. Not that he would ever admit it. They got to bring all the plush toys outside into the garden, her mum made them put some blanket on the grass first so they wouldn't get all dirty, and they set them down as the guests. It was a bit boring when she later disappeared to get ready and he was left alone, but at least he got to steal some of the cookies they had set on the table as a part of the following feast. He didn't understand what was happening at first when the small radio they brought out and left at the door started playing. She got a little bit frustrated when she found him not standing at the made-up altar but he quickly rushed over there, having to wait for a moment before she adjusted the tape and the song started again. He also had to promise that he didn't see her before. He wasn't really lying. He did not see much. Just a stupid piece of curtain hanging over her face. He wondered how she would be able to talk through the aisle with that. She somehow did though and he was honestly impressed so he stared at her in awe. She had to nudge him, muttering how he needs to put the veil away. It didn't strike him that he could simply lift it up, instead, he literally tugged on the curtain so the little tiara she was wearing fell down to the ground as well. She shot him a glare but then took his hands, smiling at him a little while she nodded her head every once and then as if the large teddy who played the officer was really saying something. Soon, they were both saying their 'I do' and the celebrations could start. He was looking forward that part the most because it would mean eating all the cookies but before that, the kiss thingy had to happen. They exchanged a look but soon Calum decided to push through it and pecked her lips real quick. He always made fun of how his first kiss was actually a wedding one.

When Calum arrived at the venue, most of the guests were already there. "Everything okay?" One of his mates asked him when Calum walked up to them. He blinked his big brown eyes at that. Wouldn't they stop asking him about it? Of course, everything was okay. More than that actually. He was thrilled. He couldn't wait for the ceremony to start. "Yes," he ended up answering anyway because the look he sent them clearly wasn't enough to make it clear. Calum looked around, examining the surroundings. From what he could see, everything looked magical. Exactly like she wanted to. The weather shouldn't be an issue either. He checked the weather forecast in the car and there was not a mention of even the smallest possibility of rain. She wanted to get married outside and while Calum was there when she was picking up all the decorations, he was surprised with how amazing it looked all put together. She really did a great job with all of this and when he sent her a text telling her that he just got there and that the place looked absolutely lovely, she sent him a heart emoji. That small red heart made him realize how quickly his own heart was beating. He turned down his friend's offer of taking a sip from his flask. It would take the edge off, they said but Calum shook his head immediately. He wanted his mind to stay as clear and sharp as it could be. There would be plenty of time for alcohol later. Calum greeted the people he knew, all of them exchanging smiles and sharing their excitement about this lovely day, and he also got introduced to a lot of people he didn't know until now. Finally, he spotted his parents and his sister while they were walking out of the large tent where would all the celebrations take place later. As soon as they got close enough to each other, his mum pulled him into a tight hug. She went on about how nice everything looked and how surreal this whole thing felt. She still remembered when they were just little kids, running around the garden half-naked. And now there was a wedding. Time flew so fast. He stopped her in her rambling before she started crying and she smiled brightly at him, nodding her head and assuring him that there won't be any more tears now. She stroked his cheeks with her thumbs and then kissed him before going off to say hi to someone else. His dad and Mali stood there with him for a while, and while he was always the type of person who enjoyed his family presence, right now there was only one thing he could focus on and he couldn't stop his mind from wandering in that direction.

"Are you sure that the boys won't get upset that we left them alone?" She asked and pulled the hoodie a bit closer to her body. It was a summer night but the breeze that was coming from the ocean was making her feel a bit chilly. "Have you seen them?" Calum laughed and shook his head before collapsing down onto the grass. "They won't even notice that we are gone," he assured her and then patted his hand on the spot beside him when she kept standing and just looked down at him. He said her name to call her over, motioning for her to come down again and after a moment she finally did. "Fuck you," he let out when she managed to lay down on his hand in the process. "Sorry," she laughed and once she was comfortable, she reached for his hand that he was keeping close to his chest now while looking at her with a hurt expression. "Don't be a baby." She rolled her eyes when he called her out on laughing at his suffering. She laced their fingers together, smiling in the dark at how warm his hand felt against hers and also at how well their hands fit together. Carefully, as if not to cause any more 'damage', she brought their joined hands up to her lips and kissed the back of Calum's. "Is it better?" She wanted to know but Calum struggled to let out any sound at all. Did she really just kiss him? He felt like a dummy for suddenly feeling so funny in the pit of his stomach. After all, he knew how soft her lips were. They had pressed against his cheek many times before but that was always a simple, friendly gesture. Somehow, the kiss now felt more intimate. Maybe it was because they were completely alone, in a dark of a park she loved to visit so much. Her grandpa used to take her there when she was a kid and this place held a very special spot in her heart. He knew that, and to be fair, that was probably the main reason he brought her here. He sneaked her out from the party she threw for them before they would be leaving for England the day after tomorrow. He didn't have much time. And for the longest part, he thought about not letting her know how much he is going to miss her once he would be gone... What would be the point in telling her how much she actually means to him when he was going to leave? Michael then came up with this "if not now then when" talk and Calum hated him for that from the bottom of his heart. His friend seemed to have a pretty good point though. If she wouldn't like him and this confession would go terribly, at least he wouldn't have to face her after for some time, and once they would meet again, the whole thing may as well be long forgotten. But if it would work out? If she smiled at him in the way that made his heart speed up? Then they could use these months to think about whether their friendship that had lasted for years was worth putting on the stake and they maybe could have their happy end as a couple. It was embarrassing how much time he had spent thinking about that during the past year. Damn. Calum had this whole talk prepared but his throat suddenly felt so tight that he doubted he would be able to let out any of this. All just because of her hand securely holding onto his and her breath tickling his skin. Love was dumb. Who came up with that shit anyway? She turned to her side, using one of her hands to hold her head up while she continued to hold him. "Are you really not going to talk to with me because of that? Come on..." She grinned when he remained quiet and she nudged his foot with hers. "Of course not." He quickly shook his head. "I was just... thinking." "Yeah?" Her eyebrows raised. "Up for sharing that with me?" "I don't know," Calum admitted and shrugged his shoulders. "It's sort of dumb." "Is it?" He nodded his head, smiling a bit when she made this 'mmmhm' sound. "Dumber than letting that Cole guy pierce your lip?" His brows furrowed and he gently pushed her away from him. "We agreed we don't talk about that. Ever." "You agreed. I know that I will never recover." The park was completely quiet except for her laughter and Calum knew that even if he wouldn't force himself to speak the truth about his feelings, he wouldn't regret leaving the party and spending some time just with her right here. Her hand left his and he looked at her curiously when she made him turn his face towards her. She brushed her finger over the spot where the piercing once been and shook her head slightly in disbelief. "I still don't know what the hell you were thinking then." "Guess I just wanted to be cool." "You are cool. Even though that you are in the stupid band...." She joked. "You love my band," He reminded with a serious look. He heard her swallow before she spoke out again. "Yeah. I do." Their eyes met for a moment and she parted her lips as if she was going to say something but in the end, she pressed them tightly together again for a couple of seconds. "I can't believe you are leaving to make music in London. I am going to miss you." There seemed to be a hint of sadness behind these words and Calum couldn't stop himself from reaching out for her and pulling her to his chest. "I'll miss you too." He said the obvious and she offered him a little smile in return. "I'm going to drown you in messages. You will be so annoyed you will just keep on wishing that the guy gives you a break." "You will?" "Yes! For sure. You will not get rid of me that easily. You made a promise. You are stuck with me for life." She started laughing again and Calum automatically felt so happy with himself for being the one to cause that. He didn't need to say more, she knew exactly what he meant. The wedding. By now, she had made her peace with the fact that he would never let her live that down. They both had so many embarrassing stories on each other that it was quite scary, actually. As long as it was just the two of them talking about it and they didn't reach the ears of any stranger, though, it was good. Just like now. They spent the next hour or two actually laying in the grass, talking and laughing their asses off, reminiscing about all the great times they spent with each other. There was only a one little small thing missing for them to be as happy as they possibly could be, and Calum couldn't believe that he was really doing this when he suddenly leaned his head in and kissed her. He interrupted her story about old Ms Brown telling on them that they broke into her garden. She hated being interrupted and he knew it but he simply couldn't stop himself at that moment. The sun started to come up and she looked so beautiful in that gentle light. "I am sorry," he started to stammer out, his face so close to hers that their lips actually brushed against each other when he spoke. There was no slap, no 'what the fuck are you doing' or any other negative reaction. There was no reaction at all actually, and Calum really started to wish for the ground to swallow him whole as quickly as possible. With his eyes closed, he started to pull away but a pair of hoodie covered arms stopped him. "No. Come here," she mumbled and gently rubbed her nose against his before kissing him.

He was standing at the same spot where it had happened years ago, a wide smile on his face as he thought about it. About how she started to giggle as they made out because his hand under her shirt tickled her. About how she then rolled on top of him and made him tilt his head back in pleasure when she kissed his neck. About how they just made out and cuddled until the sun completely came up and they both needed to go home. Calum was absolutely in love with her then and he loved her just as much now. He needed to tell her. His heart would burst if he didn't.   He fished his phone out of his pocket and then dialled her number. "I need to talk with you,“ he said into the phone in a shaky voice once she finally picked up. A part of him struggled to wrap his mind around the fact that this was really happening. "Babe, I’d love to but we really don’t have time… My heel broke so we quickly had to find some new shoes that would fit and now we are late and…  I know small things like this don’t matter. I swear I am not stressing out. We are running late. I’ll talk to you later after the ceremony, okay? Love you.“ "Love you.“ When the call finished, Calum checked the time. It made sense that everyone seemed to be at their places already as the ceremony was supposed to start in only a few minutes. It didn't appear that any of them knew about the little delay of the bride. Still, he needed to get in position too, so everything would be ready for when she would arrive. Shoving the phone into his pocket he started to walk towards the group of people that were waiting aside. He smiled at some of the bridesmaids that were already there and then spend the time while they had to wait chatting with the groomsmen. Suddenly, the two bridesmaids that were missing showed up beside them, saying that it's about time that they start. And so they did. The music began playing and they walked through the aisle to the cute arch that was put up just for this occasion and that was covered with flowers. If anyone asked him, Calum wouldn't be able to tell what song was playing when his feet carried him there, nor could he tell how were all the people in the seats looking at him. He moved automatically and there was just one person on his mind. Her. He couldn't wait to see her. He tried not to fidget too much because of the nerves and he searched for the faces of his family and his closest friends. They were all giving him their best smiles. They knew how he felt. Then a new song started and everyone's eyes turned towards her. He could feel the tears starting to sting in his eyes. He had tried to brace himself but it didn’t seem like he did a very good job. She looked wonderful, absolutely stunning. Some people seemed to gasp and he honestly didn't blame them.  She carried herself with such grace that it almost seemed as if she was floating through the air. There was a small, a bit nervous smile playing in her lips and he noticed how tightly she was holding on the bouquet that was made of her favourite flowers. When her and Calum's eyes met, she made the corners of her mouth turn up a bit higher before she shook her head a little bit. "Don't cry," she mouthed towards him but when she looked down he saw how quickly she was blinking her eyes. This was a very emotional day for her. For all of them. The aisle wasn't too long and yet, it felt like ages to Calum. Ages during which he couldn't stop himself from admiring how beautiful she looked as a bride and also thinking about his past and future life. When her father finally brought her over to where the officer was standing, he shot Calum a little encouraging smile. Calum's head nodded slightly in acknowledgement and then he swallowed thickly before looking down while her father handed her to the groom.

Fuck all the fame and the money he had earned, fuck the awards he and his band won. If it wasn't for them, he was pretty sure that he could be the one marrying her and the smile that made her eye crinkle would still be reserved only for him.

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Ancient Soul

Time Travel, Quirkless, Feudal Japan AU

“Your soul does not belong here.” Those were words you never thought that you would hear. Now, thrown into the past in feudal Japan, you must find a way to survive, all while struggling to avoid the growing feelings for one hot-headed war general. War, romance, death and love drive you forward, to find the place where your soul truly belongs.

Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Want to start from be beginning? Check the Ancient Soul tag. New chapters released every Wednesday as long as schedule permits.

Genre: Romance / Angst Story Rating: Explicit | Adult Themes, Sex, Death, Depictions of Violence, Alcohol

Chapter 7: A Cell

Chapter Rating: Teen | Cursing Words:  2986

The number of stairs that you had to climb to reach Lord Yagi’s chambers was more than you had ever climbed in your entire life. You lost count of how many flights you took, but your freshly cleaned body once again felt sticky with sweat and your legs felt like they would give out on you at any moment. You were so tired, but you barely had time to get dressed in clean clothing before Bakugou was trying to pull you away to meet the Lord of this castle. You hadn’t expected to get any rest first, but you so wished for it, especially by the time you reached the level of the castle that was your destination. 

“You do not speak unless you are spoken to,” Bakugou growled at you, looking you over as if to judge your appearance. “You will answer every question with truth. More than that, you will not gawk at the physical state of my Lord, or I will have you punished. Understand?” 

Although you were confused at what he meant, you nodded, nervously fiddling with the sleeve of your fresh kimono. With that, Bakugou gestured for the guard to open the door, which he did without another moment's hesitation. You followed Bakugou inside, and though you tried to keep your head down, you couldn’t help but look around at the exquisite decor and architecture. It was so beautiful that you barely heard the slightly weary and gentle voice speaking with Bakugou, though your attention was finally pulled to them with Bakugou’s harsh response. 

“I’m here to address our Lord, not you, Deku!” 

“Kacchan, please--” A man that was obviously level with Bakugou in status held up his hands in defense, though his expression was stern on his freckled face. With wild green hair, he hardly seemed like the warrior type, especially with how timidly he talked. “-- You know that you have to go through me first. No matter what you think, I am the Chief now--” 

“I don’t care. You hold no say in what I’ve come to talk about, so talking to you is pointless!” 

“I think talking to me about this prisoner isn’t pointless--” 

“I said let me through-!” 

“That’s enough!” 

A deep but weak voice boomed through the room, making you flinch and cower down into yourself a bit. Both men were silenced as well, quickly turning their heads to look further into the room. You hadn’t even noticed the frail-looking man that sat at a large throne-like seat, his clothing nearly swallowing him. Now that you gazed upon the sunken-in eyes and hollow cheeks, you understood what Bakugou had meant about Lord Yagi’s physical appearance. He was a mess of a man, seemingly on the verge of death at any moment. His yellow hair was unkempt, but you assumed that was just from lack of health and not from personal preference. Still, it was made clear to you that both younger men respected him greatly, as they followed his command for silence without even a huff of annoyance. 

“Young Bakugou, what is it that you wanted to discuss with me?” The harsh authority in Lord Yagi’s voice was no longer present, and he instead sounded like a kind and gentle man. Giving this ‘Deku’ one last glare, Bakugou approached the end of the stairs that led up to the throne, instantly getting down onto both knees to bow deeply to the floor. 

“My Lord, I have brought this woman to present to you. I believe she could be of great benefit to us.” 

“How so?” Lord Yagi’s gaze moved to you, instantly making your stomach bubble nervously. Quickly as to not make eye contact that could be considered disrespectful, you kept your head bowed and awaited instruction. “She seems like an ordinary woman to me. What is so special about her?” 

Bakugou rose to his feet, giving a sharp motion with his hand for you to approach. Timidly, you came up to stand beside him, keeping your eyes locked on the brilliant red cloth beneath your feet that covered the cold wooden floor. “We found her during our return, out by Shōshitsu Shrine.” You were surprised to hear Bakugou call it by the name you knew it in the modern world, and you assumed it had been known for its oddities for centuries. “I believe that she has special abilities that could help us.” 

“Abilities? Young Bakugou,” Lord Yagi’s voice seemed weary, as if he were unsure of what to do with this prospect. “Such things are dangerous.” 

“It’s nothing physical. She can accurately predict the future. I saw it happen, as did everyone in my party.” 

Silence fell over the room, and you couldn’t help but bite down on the inside of your cheek. It sounded absolutely ridiculous, but that must have been how he saw what you had done. Technically, it was true. You knew what was going to happen, for the most part, and could give your input to the best of your ability. The whole thing still just seemed like a mess, and the sigh that escaped Lord Yagi’s lips only confirmed to you that he thought the same.

The sickly man shifted a bit in his seat, though you still didn’t have the confidence to look up at him. “And how did she do this?” 

“She told us that there would be an ambush at Silver River, and there was. She also predicted our victory.” 

“Young Bakugou, for someone so intelligent, it seems odd to me that you would fall for such a farce.” 

“Huh?” Bakugou’s voice wavered a bit in confusion, and you could physically feel his confidence dwindling. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s obvious that she already knew it was going to happen because she knew about it. That’s the only logical explanation.” Lord Yagi stood, prompting you to glance up for just a moment to see him make his way down the stairs. You were surprised to see that he moved with a decent amount of ease, though that didn’t stop you from being anxious about his approach. “And she only guessed that you would win. It was just a way to keep herself inconspicuous.”  

Bakugou gave a small cough to clear his throat. “It didn’t seem like that to any of us on the road, My Lord. She is constantly talking about odd things, and she was dressed in these.. rags that I had never seen before. Myself and the others who were with me all believe she has powers of some sort.” 

“It’s impossible for me to believe that without seeing proof of it myself.” Coming to a stop in front of you, Lord Yagi finally addressed you directly. “What is your name, miss?” 

“U-Uhm… it’s [F/n] [L/n], Lord Yagi.” You bowed deeply at the waist, trying to control the trembling of your body. With a gesture of his hand, you stood back up straight, though you didn’t look up at him just yet. “It’s an honor to be in your presence.” 

“How polite. You don’t seem… dangerous or threatening in any way. It truly is a surprise that you have been able to trick my General.” 

“I assure you, I haven’t tricked anyone. I… I am no spy or enemy.” 

“I’ll have to beg your forgiveness on the fact that I cannot believe you. Many women these days know how to act innocent and foolish when they have ulterior motives.” Lord Yagi turned his attention back to Bakugou, who was waiting silently to be spoken to. “Young Bakugou, this isn’t safe. I cannot trust her without proof.” 

“But My Lord, I’ve seen it--” 

“And you, along with Young Midoriya, are someone I trust beyond all others. But this is dangerous. She could be in league with the enemy.” 

“I do not think so, I truly think we could use her!” 

“Fine.” Lord Yagi sighed, obviously too exhausted to spend too much energy on such an argument. “If you wish for her to be here, then she will be under your charge until she can be trusted. I will allow that. But… I find this whole situation to be in very poor taste, Young Bakugou. A very unwise decision…” With that, he began walking towards the green-haired man, whom you assumed to be the person he called Midoriya. “We have to look over some charts now. I expect a report of your battle within the week. For now, I leave you to deal with your prisoner.” 

As Lord Yagi and Midoriya vanished through a sliding door into a different room, you were left alone with Bakugou. His stiffness and silence worried you, so finding your strength, you turned your gaze up to look at him. A chill ran down your spine at the intensity of his glare that was locked onto you, the fire that normally adorned his gaze now turned to ice. You knew why. He had just humiliated himself, all because of you and your ‘powers’. He had wanted so badly to be looked upon by his Lord with respect and praise, but he got the opposite. 

“You made me look a fool.” 

“M-me?” You brought a hand up to your chest, glowering up at him. “How did I do that? I was barely even talked to, how is it my fault?” 

“Shut up, you Demon wench.” 

“I am not a demon! You don’t think that humiliated me, too? I don’t deserve to be treated like I’m some- some damn filthy prisoner! You trusted me enough to keep me unbound, even in front of your Lord, so what’s your deal?!” Your exhaustion had your patience dwindled to nothing, and the fact that he was blaming his failure on you had you at wit’s end. There was nothing you had done that warranted being treated like the enemy or with suspicion, and after all this time, you had expected more trust. “If you don’t want me, then give me a horse, and I’ll go try to find my way home!” 

“No! You’re staying here under my charge!” 

“To do what? Sit around until I wither away or until you think you can use me? I’m not an item, I’m a person!” 

“I don’t give a shit what you are,” Bakugou growled at you, making your confidence shrink down into nothing. You were intimidated by him, and although you knew you were in the right, his stature and power over your life made you quickly realize that it would be best to keep your mouth shut. “You are going to live in this palace, watched every moment and if you even think about stepping one foot out of the gates I will have you locked away.” He pointed a finger towards the entrance, to which you silently followed command and made your way in that direction. 

Frustrated, your eyes were burning with tears, yet you couldn’t find it within yourself to say or do anything about it. You had no means of escape or help, so you knew that all you could do was roll with it all and see what happens. Perhaps, there would be a chance for you to prove your ‘powers’ to Lord Yagi, which would probably increase your status or at least give you more leniency. The first chance I get, I’m going to do a prediction. I can’t let it slip past me, but I have a feeling that Bakugou won’t be coming to me for anything… I’ll have to catch them when they’re having a conversation. Just like before. 

Lost in your thoughts about what to do with yourself, you didn’t notice Tsuyu until you nearly rammed into her. Jerking yourself to a stop, you stuttered an apology, though it was quickly smothered by Bakugou’s voice as he addressed his subordinate. 

“As discussed, you will watch her. Let me know immediately of anything suspicious.” His voice almost sounded… strained, as if he were trying to hold back whatever emotion he was struggling with. You felt both angered by his attitude and sorry for him, as he had gone through a very rough couple of days. Though, the little voice in the back of your mind told you that, just maybe, he deserved it for how awful he had been to you. That little voice brought a strong sense of guilt to your stomach, however, knowing that it hadn’t been all bad. You knew that there must be a good man beneath the wall of shit he had built around himself. If there were others following him, with so much respect and obedience, then there must be more than ranking influencing them. You could see it on Tsuyu’s face, a slight furrow of her brow preceding a deep bow. 

“As you wish. I will keep you informed daily.” 

Without another word, Bakugou left you both, vanishing behind the building before you could even look back at him again. Finally out of his presence, you gave a heavy sigh, looking at Tsuyu as she stood up straight. “He’s really pissed at me…” 

Tsuyu nodded, beginning to lead you forward. “I assume it did not go as expected with Lord Yagi. He is a very… educated man, not to say Bakugou isn’t, but there is a difference there. It’s more of a… level-headedness, one which Bakugou lacks. It can cause him to be quite frustrated when he is corrected or when he realizes that he was wrong. He will calm down.” 

“So… you think he doesn’t believe I can predict the future anymore?” 

“Oh no, I don’t mean that at all. There is something odd about you for sure, Miss. And what you did at Silver River was astonishing. You have something uncanny about you, but only time will tell what it truly is.” 

“I think… Lord Yagi made him feel like it was a mistake to bring me. Like his ambitions about whatever he wanted to do were wrong.” 

“Perhaps.” Tsuyu stopped, carefully sliding open a wall panel. “I cannot say for sure since I wasn’t there. I will say this, though. You should keep all that happens to you and your thoughts to yourself. I may not be the only one listening.” 

Frown crossing your lips, you nodded, glancing into the dimly lit room. “I’m sorry, you’re just so easy to talk to.” 

Tsuyu nodded, a small smile of her own crossing her lips. “I suppose that’s what can make me so dangerous. I make you feel a little too comfortable.” Although it didn’t seem like her words were meant to be menacing, it still reminded you that she was some type of assassin, and probably had a blade that the ready beneath her kimono sleeve. “I had fresh clothing brought for you for in the morning and we will have a servant come to take your dirty clothes to wash them daily. This will be your quarters until it is seen fit to move you to a more spacious area.” 

“Ah, I like the small size…” You walked into the room after leaving your sandals at the entrance. The tatami flooring creaked a bit under your feet, and you felt relieved to be back in some sort of civilization. “I lived in a very small room before. I wouldn’t know what to do with more space. Though this is more…” Your voice trailed off a bit at the negative thoughts, your eyes moving to the traditional futon bed that rested near the middle of the room. 

“Don’t think of it as a cell, Miss.” Tsuyu finished your thought for you, surprising you a bit at how well she could assume your thoughts. “This is your home now, and you can travel the palace as you wish with me as your guide. It will take some time for you to be happy here and gain the trust of others, but I believe that you’ll find a way.” 

Feeling the burning tears return to your eyes, you sniffled a bit, reaching up to wipe your eyes with the back of our sleeve. “Thank you, Tsuyu…” 

“Please, call me Tsu.” With a gentle smile, Tsuyu took hold of the door again, preparing to shut it. “Goodnight, Miss. I will be here in the morning.” 

“You’re not gonna camp out all night?” 

“Oh, no. I have to sleep too!” Tsuyu gave a soft laugh, nodding towards her left. “No, there will be guards here. You’re safe. Now, get some sleep.” The doors slid closed with a soft tick, leaving you alone in silence and dim light. 

Taking a deep, trembling breath, you took a moment to remove all your clothing except for the white robe that was your final layer. Keeping it tied, you knelt beside the futon, pulling back the thick blanket that covered it and adjusting the tiny head pillow. Although it wasn’t what you were used to, it was heaven compared to the hard and bumpy ground outside, and you felt a huge sense of relaxation when you finally laid down. Though, now that you were finally alone for the first time since this horrible catastrophe, you began to feel a wave of emotion crash over you. 

At this rate, you would never see anyone you loved ever again. Your parents, family, friends or even your beloved cat. They were surely grieving heavily for you by now, searching everywhere in the woods around that horrible shrine. You could only hope that no one would come across the same fox that had cursed you, so that they wouldn’t suffer the same or even a worse fate. You were now just a memory to them, as they were to you, and that ripped at your already wounded heart. 

Turning over on your side, you hid your face into the pillow as you sobbed, pulling the blanket up to completely cover your head. 

And this night, too, would become nothing but a memory.

[rockandrollstorytime]

Rock and Roll Storytime #8: The Rolling Stones at Altamont (AKA One of the Worst Concert Disasters of All Time)

The year 1969 had been a hectic one, both for the world in general (with the continuing Vietnam War, the Chappaquiddick incident, and the moon landings) and especially for rock and roll (with the death of Brian Jones, Woodstock, and the Beatles starting to head full-steam down the road that led them to their break-up in April 1970). Capping off this year full of highs and lows, there was Altamont, which has been labelled by many as the death of the 60′s. At the very least, it certainly brought a premature end to the idealism that the youths of that generation held dear.

Lord knows, I will always say that Brian Jones should have had a chance to get back on his feet and I’m super salty that he’s dead, but honestly, I’m glad he missed out on this one. 

Before I tell the story of Altamont though, I must ask… Whose bright idea was it to hire the Hell’s Angels as security for a Rolling Stones concert and pay them with $500 of beer?

Well, to answer that question, I’m going to have to begin this story with the ending of another. Truly, the roots of this ill-thought-out decision lies within events that had happened that summer. 

I’ve mentioned Brian Jones already, but to give those of you who are new to this the rundown, Lewis Brian Hopkin Jones was the Stones’ first guitarist, and at the start, he was the brains of the band. Seven years, a bunch of internal conflict with Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, and Andrew Loog Oldham, a messy relationship with Anita Pallenberg, drug abuse and alcoholism, two drug trials, and a fuck-ton of stress later, Brian was in a state we’d call “mental exhaustion” (didn’t help that his physical health was shit too). Where in 1966 he was contributing some of the best parts of the Stones’ early music, such as the sitar on “Paint It Black”, in 1969, he’d rarely show up to the studio, and if he did, he would usually be too intoxicated to properly contribute. In fact, on Let It Bleed, he only contributed to two songs: “Midnight Rambler” (congas) and “You’ve Got the Silver” (autoharp).

In June 1969, the Stones decided they wanted to go on tour again, but then, they found out that due to the fact that Brian had twice been convicted of drug possession, it’d be unlikely that he could receive a visa to perform in the U.S.A., if at all. Ultimately, Mick and Keith decided that their best option would be to fire Brian, and so, on June 8, 1969, they went down to Brian’s home, Cotchford Farm, to tell him that he would no longer be with the group. According to those present, Brian had been expecting this, and in the various press releases, it was made to appear as if Brian had left the band on his own terms. His statement read, in part, “I no longer see eye to eye with the others over the discs we are cutting. We no longer communicate musically. The Stones’ music is not to my taste any more. The work of Mick and Keith has progressed at a tangent, at least to my way of thinking. I have a desire to play my own brand of music rather than that of others, no matter how much I appreciate their musical concepts.”

At this point in time, whether Brian was accepting of this turn of events or not is up to conjecture. 

In either case, the Stones brought in 20-year-old Mick Taylor (previously of John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers) to replace Brian, and at a press conference on June 13, the Stones announced that they would be holding a free concert on July 5 in order to properly introduce their new guitarist. 

And then, just three days before the concert was set to take place, Brian drowned in his backyard swimming pool, being just twenty-seven years old. Although the coroner ruled it death by misadventure (which personal research seems to support), theories have long persisted that Brian was, in fact, murdered, but that is, of course, a story for another day. 

The Stones in the Park concert quickly became a tribute to Brian Jones, and at the start, Mick read two verses of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s Adonais, and as the band launched into “I’m Yours and I’m Hers” by Johnny Winters (one of Brian’s favourite songs), thousands of butterflies were released, though this was against park stipulation, as they were voracious Cabbage White butterflies, and many had died due to the boxes not being properly ventilated. 

What’s important to this story about the concert at Hyde Park is that the London chapter of the Hell’s Angels was there providing security that day. It is also important to note that the Grateful Dead (who, incidentally, also had a member of the 27 Club in their line-up) had also hired the Hell’s Angels as security numerous times. 

Several months later, the Stones had been having a pretty good run with their American tour, which was able to slightly mitigate some of the shady business practices Allen Klein had subjected them to, but throughout, fans and journalists kept complaining about high ticket prices. If you ask me though, those bitches were lucky. I’d rather be paying three to eight dollars (equivalent to $21.21 to $56.57 in 2019) as opposed to a minimum of $159 that tickets to a Rolling Stones concert now sell for. Not to mention, Woodstock had happened in August that year, and that was a big success, so in Mick Jagger’s 26-year-old, immature, unwise brain, that obviously meant that they should have another free concert like the one at Hyde Park. Really, in his mind, the peace and love movement was only just beginning, so what could go wrong?

As Murphy’s Law will tell you, “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong” 

Oh, and go wrong it did. 

The first major problem was that they couldn’t get a venue. 

The concert was set for December 6, and their tour manager, Sam Cutler, struggled to get them a venue. He tried San Jose’s State University, but there had been a three-day festival recently, and the city wasn’t exactly in the mood for another batch of hippies storming the city so soon afterward, so that was out of bounds. He then tried gunning for San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park, but there was a football game between the Chicago Bears and the San Francisco 49-ers taking place in the same general location, which made use of the venue impractical. He then tried getting Sears Point Raceway on board, but disputes quickly arose over filming distribution rights and an up-front fee of $300,000.

Finally, just two days before the concert was set to take place, the Stones’ management managed to get a hold of Altamont Speedway (it helped that the owner, Dick Carter, apparently offered the venue for free). 

As you can imagine, there was a whole shit-ton of problems that arose from that, and Rolling Stone magazine, in its piece on the tragedy, listed the following logistical problems: 

“1) Promise a free concert by a popular rock group which rarely appears in this country. Announce the site only four days in advance.

2) Change the location 20 hours before the concert.

3) The new concert site should be as close as possible to a giant freeway.

4) Make sure the grounds are barren, treeless, desolate.

5) Don’t warn neighboring landowners that hundreds of thousands of people are expected. Be unaware of their out-front hostility toward long hair and rock music.

6) Provide one-sixtieth the required toilet facilities to insure that people will use nearby fields, the sides of cars, etc.

7) The stage should be located in an area likely to be completely surrounded by people and their vehicles.

8) Build the stage low enough to be easily hurdled. Don’t secure a clear area between stage and audience.

9) Provide an unreliable barely audible low fidelity sound system.

10) Ask the Hell’s Angels to act as ‘security’ guards.”

Most sane people would have quit while they were ahead, but this is the Rolling Stones we’re talking about. Between Brian Jones having five kids by the age of twenty-three, Mick Jagger allegedly sleeping with over 4,000 women (and don’t get me started on him and David Bowie), Keith Richards’ drug habits and his snorting his dad’s ashes, Bill Wyman dating a teenager while he was in his forties, and Charlie Watts punching Mick Jagger in the face, we are absolutely not dealing with the most sane bunch of individuals on the planet. 

And let’s not forget that some idiot decided it’d be a great idea to pay the Hell’s Angels in $500 of beer (the equivalent of $3,535.43 in 2019).

Yeah, if you listened closely to the sounds of the earth in 1969, I can guarantee you, you probably would have heard a barely-cold-in-the-ground Brian Jones spinning in his grave over this stupidity (because he was acting as the band’s manager for a time in their early days before Andrew Oldham came on board). 

Let’s also not forget that they hired a particularly notorious batch of Hell’s Angels from Oakland, California, whereas the Grateful Dead found their “security bikers” in Sacramento. Apparently, Grateful Dead manager Rock Scully even tried to warn the Stones about the “real” Hell’s Angels after seeing the footage from Hyde Park, but obviously, they didn’t take whatever warning he tried to give them to heart. The hippies in general had a romanticized image of the Hell’s Angels in their heads, seeing them as “outlaw brothers of the counterculture.”

No points for guessing how that worked out, but let’s continue regardless. 

Set to perform that night were Santana, Jefferson Airplane, The Flying Burrito Brothers, Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, the Grateful Dead, and of course, the Rolling Stones. 

They would all be performing on a stage that was just thirty-nine inches off the ground and surrounded on all sides by over 300,000 attendees. Apparently, this had been planned to create a more “intimate” experience. 

From what I could tell, waivers were not involved. 

For the sake of time, I can’t give you a minute-by-minute analysis of the event, but I can still provide a basic timeline of all that happened. 

So, everything went relatively smoothly as Santana performed their set, but it was only downhill from there. As the day progressed, the crowd started fighting each other, and the “security” sure as hell didn’t help matters. At some point, someone knocked over one of the Angel’s motorcycles, which was likely an accident. However, the Angels were already pretty pissy, and plus, rule number one when it comes to the Angels is “Don’t mess with the motorcycles.” So, the Angels, already high thanks to someone spiking the beer with acid, started indiscriminately assaulting audience members they didn’t like with sawed-off pool cues and motorcycle chains, including a guy who was running around naked and someone else who was trying to take pictures of the stage. One woman who called in to a radio station the next day reported that she saw five fistfights, and the Angels were involved in every last one. She tried to intervene, but the people around her warned her not to, fearing for both their safety and hers. 

During Jefferson Airplane’s set, Marty Balin was knocked unconscious when he tried to intervene in a fight between the audience members and Hell’s Angels. When Paul Kantner grabbed a mic and sarcastically thanked the Angels, Bill Fritsch grabbed the mic from him and started arguing with him about it. In addition, Denise Jewkes, lead singer of Ace of Cups, was hit in the head with a beer bottle and suffered a skull fracture. Her husband, Noel, had to lead his six-month pregnant wife through the sea of people so she could get medical attention. The Stones later paid her medical expenses. By this point, news of what was going on out front was beginning to seep into the backstage areas and even back to the Stones at their hotel room, but most of the acts decided to press on regardless. However, after hearing about what happened to Marty from Michael Shrieve, the guys from the Grateful Dead decided to book it. 

Yeah. Thanks a bunch, assholes.

The crowd did calm down a bit for the Flying Burrito Brothers’ set, because really, who can say no to Gram Parsons? However, that calm was only temporary. When the Stones arrived by helicopter, it wasn’t even ten seconds before someone punched Mick Jagger in the face. Also, Bill Wyman missed the first helicopter out, so the Stones were already going to be late.

And then Mick Jagger decided he wanted to be all dramatic and shit, so the crowds were forced to wait until nightfall for the Stones’ set.

Meanwhile, during Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young’s set, a “stoned out” Angel reportedly stabbed Stephen Stills in the leg whenever he stepped forward to sing, leaving trails of blood running down his leg.

By the time the Stones were anywhere near ready to take the stage, things started to degenerate even further, to the point where the Angels (who already despised Mick’s scrawny, English arse) pretty much forced the Stones to go out on stage regardless of whether they were ready or not, just to prevent a full-scale riot.

It was in that moment Mick knew… he fucked up royally.

As Mick observed the constant fighting between the audience members and Hell’s Angels during the show as he sang “Sympathy for the Devil”, he desperately, defeatedly, pleaded for calm, his usual bravado completely absent for once in his adult life. However, it was clear that the Angels already weren’t going to listen to the flamboyant musician they clearly hated, and tensions had been simmering too long throughout the day, so Mick’s pleas for peace practically went completely unheard. 

Mick Taylor later said, “The Hell’s Angels had a lot to do with it. The people that were working with us getting the concert together thought it would be a good idea to have them as a security force. But I got the impression that because they were a security force they were using it as an excuse. They’re just very, very violent people. I think we expected probably something like the Hell’s Angels that were our security force at Hyde Park, but of course they’re not the real Hell’s Angels, they’re completely phony. These guys in California are the real thing — they’re very violent. I had expected a nice sort of peaceful concert. I didn’t expect anything like that in San Francisco because they are so used to having nice things there. That’s where free concerts started, and I thought a society like San Francisco could have done much better. We were on the road when it was being organized, we weren’t involved at all. We would have liked to have been. Perhaps the only thing we needed security for was the Hell’s Angels. I really don’t know what caused it but it just depressed me because it could have been so beautiful that day”

(I feel so sorry for Mick Taylor. The kid was just twenty years old when he saw all this bullshit going down.)

Now, what I’m going to do with this go-around, before I describe what happened next, is tell you a little bit about Meredith Hunter. He was just eighteen when he went to Altamont with his girlfriend, Patti Bredehoft. The only reason he had a gun that day, according to his family, was for self-protection, given that he was basically a young black man with a white girlfriend in a sea of white people, at a time and place where racism was still very much prevalent. Allegedly, the gun didn’t even have any bullets in it; it would just be a last resort to deter anyone giving him trouble. Like most 18-year-olds, he was also a bit naive, and though his girlfriend wanted to leave, he convinced her to stay for the Rolling Stones’ set. At one point, he was already set upon by Hell’s Angels, but that time, it was only a scuffle. What is known is that he was high on methamphetamines, but what isn’t known for sure is his general demeanour. Some said he had a crazy look in his eye, while others said that he seemed calm, though he was upset at the violence. 

And then, all hell broke loose. 

As “Under My Thumb” was ending, cameras found an opening into the crowd, into which stumbled Meredith Hunter. He grabbed his gun, a .22 calibre revolver, which was visible to cameras against Patti’s dress. When Alan Passaro saw this, he immediately assumed that Hunter was trying to shoot somebody, and started stabbing him (this was, again, in plain view of a bunch of cameras). Subsequently, he was repeatedly kicked in the head, trying to tell his attackers that he wasn’t trying to kill anybody. However, the Angels were convinced that he was attempting to shoot somebody, and that’s essentially what the narrative became- that a crazed black kid high on meth tried to shoot Mick or one of the other Rolling Stones (which, believe me, I’d be salty about even if I hadn’t read a Rolling Stone article about him).

It was little Mick Taylor who managed to keep things rolling (a bit) by suggesting they play “Brown Sugar”, which had only been recorded the previous Tuesday. 

Somehow, after the vicious beating he’d suffered, Meredith was still alive, and a doctor at the scene looked at him and recommended that he get immediate medical attention, or else he’d die. However, the only helicopter at the scene was reserved for the Rolling Stones, and the pilot made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that no one else was allowed on board. Hunter ended up dying of his injuries while they waited for emergency responders. 

I don’t quite know how well the situation was explained, but still, dick move on the part of the helicopter pilots. 

In addition to Hunter, three other people died, one after falling into a fast-moving irrigation duct while tripping on LSD, and two others were killed in their sleeping bags during a hit-and-run accident. There were also four reported births, one of which occurred during Jefferson Airplane’s set. 

The day after the concert, the Stones flew back to London, as the news slowly disseminated throughout the world. 

In 1971, a documentary about the tragedy, Gimme Shelter, was released to the public. However, in the years since, many have argued that is meant to excuse the Stones’ actions and is an apologist piece of media. Still, the footage itself does show a chilling account of what happened that day, if you can ignore that overall narrative (though you really shoudn’t ignore that). 

Alan Passaro was later charged with Meredith’s murder, but was acquitted by an all-white jury, who likely either excused the crime due to racism, or just didn’t have the full story.

After Altamont, just about everybody turned on each other. The audience members, many of whom undoubtedly still live with the scars of that fateful night blamed the Hell’s Angels, whereas the Angels laid some of the blame on the audience members, and most of it on the people who hired them, whilst the Stones said they’d never work with the Hell’s Angels again (which, allegedly, almost resulted in some of them trying to assassinate Mick Jagger). 

In my honest, humble, not-so-professional opinion, I say the blame should be laid with the Stones’ management, Mick Jagger, the Grateful Dead, and the Hell’s Angels. The concert should have been planned over a matter of months instead of weeks, held in a proper venue, and above all else, not had fucking Hell’s Angels as security guards. 

While the Grateful Dead came out of it rather unscathed (mostly because they didn’t play), it’s been said that the Stones lost quite a bit of their edge. It’s easy to say that they grew up a lot because of this event, becoming a lot humbler, and a lot less greedy and risky as a direct result of this. It’s even to a point where people haven’t liked much of what they’ve put out since the 1980’s. Santana and Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young declined to have their performances shown in Gimme Shelter, and have since spoken very little about the event. Meanwhile, Alan Passaro drowned in 1985, though the circumstances of his death are suspicious, to say the least. Meanwhile, Meredith Hunter’s family still deals with the trauma of his death, and aside from a $10,000 ($70,708.59) settlement, the Stones never even approached the family to offer their condolences, or even a half-assed explanation (I don’t recommend the latter approach). The Hell’s Angels also had their reputations as dangerous outsiders cemented by this event, given that they’d caused at least 75-90% of the violence that took place that day. 

Keith Richards has maintained his “fuck-all” attitude about this through the years, even writing in his 2010 autobiography “In actual fact, if it hadn’t been for the murder, we’d have thought it a very smooth gig by the skin of its fucking teeth.”

There is a reason that many of the dreams of the 60′s died at Altamont, and all the evidence you really need is the footage that was shot that night and the words of the people who saw the fiasco first hand. 

Sources: https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-features/remembering-meredith-hunter-the-fan-killed-at-altamont-630260/ https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/the-rolling-stones-disaster-at-altamont-let-it-bleed-71299/ https://www.forbes.com/sites/davidchiu/2019/12/03/altamont-at-50-the-disastrous-concert-that-brought-the-60s-to-a-crashing-halt/#535871c31941 https://www.newyorker.com/culture/cultural-comment/the-chaos-of-altamont-and-the-murder-of-meredith-hunter https://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/the-altamont-festival-brings-the-1960s-to-a-violent-end https://datebook.sfchronicle.com/music/altamont-wasnt-the-end-of-the-60s-it-was-the-start-of-rock-n-roll-disasters https://worldhistoryproject.org/1969/12/6/altamont-free-concert Altamont by Joel Selvin Life by Keith Richards https://allthatsinteresting.com/altamont-speedway-free-concert https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/2019/lifestyle/altamont-rolling-stones-50th-anniversary/ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Altamont_Free_Concert https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Death_of_Meredith_Hunter http://timeisonourside.com/chron1969.html https://www.thevintagenews.com/2018/02/01/altamont-free-concert-in-1969/ https://www.ranker.com/list/altamont-free-concert-facts/jen-jeffers http://www.findingdulcinea.com/news/on-this-day/On-This-Day–Deaths-at-Rolling-Stones–Altamont-Concert-Shocks-the-Nation.html https://www.robertchristgau.com/xg/bk-aow/altamont.php https://westegg.com/inflation/ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JUlyVSfhgaM https://www.setlist.fm/setlist/the-rolling-stones/1969/altamont-speedway-tracy-ca-43d6fbb3.html https://slate.com/culture/2018/07/just-a-shot-away-a-history-of-altamont-by-saul-austerlitz-reviewed.html

[sanchezashton1992]

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[ncrcissv-blog]

                🐍  --- wands at the ready, NARCISSA MALFOY has joined the fight! the TWENTY THREE year old works as a HOUSE WIFE & PHILANTHROPIST, but spends HER time fighting for THE DEATH EATERS. NARCISSA is known to be DEVOTED & PROTECTIVE, as well as HAUGHTY & PREJUDICED. ( fc: josefine frida pettersen )

AESTHETIC: emerald green velvet, collar bones, goblets, blood red lipstick, whispering, walking alone at midnight, diamond encrusted jewelry, vines that crawl up the side of an old manor, six inch stilettos, clumps of cash held together with a silver chain, masquerade masks, silk sheets, fur coats, the hair on the back of your neck standing up.

her pinterest board can be found here.

guess who’s back !! it’s me !! with this absolutely phenomenal woman !! get ready for a wild ride y’all because this is gonna be a rollercoaster of emotions.

FULL NAME: narcissa ophelia malfoy (nee. black)

narcissa: as a girls' name is of greek origin, and the meaning of narcissa is “daffodil”. feminine of narcisse, which comes from the legend of the beautiful greek youth who became enamored of his own reflection --- hence "narcissism".

ophelia: of greek origin, meaning “help”.

SEXUALITY AND GENDER: 

demisexual, heteroromantic | cisgender female

BLOOD STATUS:

pureblood

HOGWARTS HOUSE: 

slytherin (though she had to convince the sorting hat. it almost put her in hufflepuff)

WAND:

cedar wood: cedar wands are found with those who possess strength of character and unusual loyalty. it was said by gervaise ollivander that you “will never fool the cedar carrier,” and these wands often find home where there is perspicacity and perception. it is unwise to cross someone who carries a cedar wand, and especially so if you do harm to somebody they care about. not to be foolishly challenged, owners of cedar wands are frightening adversaries.

unicorn hair: unicorn hair generally produces the most consistent magic, and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. wands with unicorn cores are generally the most difficult to turn to the dark arts. they are the most faithful of all wands, and usually remain strongly attached to their first owner, irrespective of whether he or she was an accomplished witch or wizard.

length & flexibility: ten and three quarters of an inch, slightly flexible.

SKILLS:

having been raised as a proper, high society lady, narcissa possesses a plethora of skills.

languages: narcissa is fluent (can read, write, and speak) in english, german, and french, and she can also speak conversational russian. 

music: narcissa has played the piano since she was five years old. it is the one thing in her life that has always been constant. she’s terrific at it, and often when she’s feeling emotional she’ll turn to piano to feel better.

occlumency: a skilled occlumens, this is one talent narcissa keeps a secret. her eldest sister is also an occlumens, and it was from her that narcissa’s want to learn sprouted.

lying: it was a big part of her childhood. being the baby of the family, narcissa was incredibly spoiled when she was a little girl. her father was quite absent most of the time but her mother doted on her like crazy. narcissa, however, wasn’t a fan of the doting. she preferred to be by herself, and was annoyed by her mother constantly being around her. but, she felt ungrateful, and therefore put up a front of enjoying all the spoiling and attention because she wanted to make her parents happy. she carried this with her throughout her life, often telling people something for the sake of their happiness and not meaning it at all. 

PERSONALITY:

narcissa’s personality is complex

she was a sickly child. her parents weren’t young when she was conceived, and because of this she was born a month and a half premature. this lead to breathing issues and when she was a girl she fell sick with pneumonia every winter. her constant illness displeased her father (he didn’t want a weak child. never mind the fact that narcissa was his last chance at a male heir and she was ... well ... a she) and worried her mother. this caused her to have a lot of independence issues. she leaned on her older sisters and her mother a lot, and avoided her father like the plague.

spoiled to high heaven that girl was. she wanted for nothing, and got everything she could ever ask for. to say she didn’t enjoy it would be a lie. it was nice getting all the new dresses she wanted and fancy toys and the latest models of brooms. but it made her feel like she owed her parents something. 

in her heart she truly is kind. you can tell in the way that she interacts with the people she cares about. her heart is in the right place, but kindness often coexists with being impressionable, which she definitely was. because of her constant exposure to her mother due to being bedridden, and the fact that she was often told she was weak because of her health, she had prejudiced and racist ideals forced upon her from a young age and soaked them up like a sponge. she grew up being taught that anybody besides those of pure blood were equal to nothing. she didn’t know why, but she never questioned it for fear of angering her parents whom she loved so dearly. the only person who ever questioned anything in their family was andromeda, and that ended with her being disowned and burnt off the family tree.

she’s ??? really emotionally repressed ??? i mean what black family member isn’t, really, but she takes it to an entirely new level

because of her father’s hard (literal and figurative) hand and her mother’s doting, narcissa was raised with a weird combination of parenting techniques that left her feeling as if she deserved everything the world had to offer while simultaneously being angry with herself for expecting that. 

this turned her into a very torn up young woman. pack teenage angst on top of a feeling of both inferiority and superiority and you get somebody who doesn’t know how to handle their emotions at all

she wasn’t really that pretty when she was young. she wasn’t unattractive by any means, but she had stringly, bleach blonde hair and large doe-eyes that made her look slightly otherworldly. her pointed features were slightly covered by a layer of baby fat. she wasn’t anything special, anyways. it broke her mother’s heart that she wasn’t as beautiful as her sisters had been at that age.

super elegant and polite. she’s the definition of classy and her manners are far above those of most people her age. she was taught to always respect her elders and slip-ups in the manners department usually resulted in a smack from her father so she grew to be very good with them.

barely smiles because smiling causes wrinkles and also lowkey she has nothing to smile about ?? her life is a mess

a+ at hiding her feelings. she’s a closed book. it’s “unrefined” to feel much of anything so she prefers to put up a cold and judgmental front that keeps people away. getting close to somebody means eventually having to open up and she has way too much secret baggage. trunks and trunks full. this is what makes being married to lucius so difficult, because he likes to know everything and she doesn’t like people knowing anything about her.

loves kids. so much. she would have loved to work with children but having a job is for lower class women and mudbloods. it’s much better for her status-wise to just be a pretty thing on lucius’ arm than to actually act like she has a mind of her own. she was never allowed to have one growing up so why change now ???

she’s very set in her ways because they’re all she’s known and it’s easier to be the way she always has been than to try and change now. deep down she wants to, because she doesn’t like who she is that much (surprisingly. you’d never know it because she seems very conceited) but going against the norm of how she was raised is not only frowned upon, but dangerous.

too loyal for her own good. it’s what’s kept her devoted to a terrible cause and her terrible family her entire life. she believes strongly in the power of forgiveness, if not for the other person than for yourself.

she’s very protective of those she cares about. namely, her parents and bella. she would gladly lay her life on the line for her family and not bat an eye.

despite this her personality has a lot of negatives too. she is definitely prejudiced. regardless of whether she wants to change deep down, she is still very terrible to those she views as being “below her” --- aka, anyone who isn’t also from a rich, pureblood family. she isn’t directly cruel to them, but she’s mastered the art of backhanded compliments very well and uses them often. 

believes herself to be better than most people, especially when it comes to looks. because she was so average for so long, when she finally grew into her sharp features and large doe-eyes she had a moment of clarity about how beautiful she really was. she knows she’s gorgeous and isn’t afraid to flaunt it, quite arrogantly might i add.

OTHER:

she has more money than she knows what to do with, so she makes very large, anonymous donations to groups known to be against the dark lord. mostly orphanages for mudblood and halfblood children who had their parents killed in the war. 

publicly she also makes donations to many organizations, to help keep up the image of her and lucius whilst he does shady things under the table, such as ... y’know ... being a death eater. their philanthropic work keeps them in the good books of the higher ups, and makes them harder to pin for crimes that are blamed on the dark lord’s followers. after all, why would they help fund a new initiative for tracking death eaters if they were involved themselves ???

narcissa hasn’t taken the mark herself. she doesn’t have any desire to. she prefers to watch from the sidelines and take a neutral stance that is still supportive of the blood purists. she figures that, if the dark lord falls, it will be easier for she and lucius to keep their comfortable lives if one of them is “completely disassociated” from that life style.

her parents married her off to lucius malfoy as a political move, similarly to bellatrix’s marriage to rodolphus lestrange.

she has settled into her role of being lucius’ trophy wife well. while she doesn’t love him or find herself attracted to him, she’s good at keeping up an image. in public she seems like a beautiful, complacent, well-bred wife. behind closed doors she rarely speaks to him unless she really has to, because there are aspects of his personality that remind her of her father and that frightens her.

she loves dogs, and has an afghan hound named dionysus.

collects brooches. you will never see her wearing an outfit without a statement brooch.

more will be added to this as i explore cissa’s character !! like this if you’re interested in plotting and i’ll message you <3

[wandchoosesthewizard]

💚- A memory that makes them feel guilty (PATRICK)

Feeling… Pensieve? || Still Accepting || @the-defected-one

If asked about his life - there is little that Patrick could say he looks back on with regret or shame. Though he is not without his (anger) issues - he is a Hufflepuff - he has never let someone else take the blame for his mistakes, and the only time he’s lied to his parents, as see through as glass, is to protect his siblings from their rightful punishment. He will, uneasily, admit that yes… Perhaps he has fallen quite far from God’s good graces and he doesn’t go to church as often as his mother would like… But he is - he likes to think - for the most part, a good person.

He doesn’t lie, he doesn’t steal, he’s generous and kind… He’s never bullied anyone - never got into a fight with someone who didn’t deserve it* - and he’s never been the slow knife, slowly twisting in someone’s gut. It’s not within his nature to embark on an insidious path of revenge, burning the joy of a rival or enemy to the ground.

He does… He does lack some scruples when it comes to women (and men). And he’ll admit that… He doesn’t really go out seeking a relationship. He’s commitment phobic, or… Whatever.  And the thing… The thing with that is - he’s perfected the art of the pickup and he’s got an eye for the kind of girl who, like him, wants a one-time thing (well, honestly, maybe a two or three-time in one night kinda thing).The kind of girl who’s not going to get her heart broken. He has mastered removing intimacy for an intimate act - he rarely takes women back to his, if he can avoid taking them to a bedroom at all that’s a boon.

And relationships that have lasted longer than one night - are very physically based and he doesn’t make promises he can’t keep and he actively distances himself because he’s not out to break hearts, and if he doesn’t let them get attached 

And you know - he figures - if he meets a girl and she’s got a guy… But she’s willing to step outside of that relationship..? Well - he’s been told to stay away from things that aren’t his… But, was she really yours if she wanted him so bad? (And let’s not let him get into the disrespect you’re showing ‘your’ woman there, boyo.)  Then beyond that ‘is your man waiting at home for you?’ isn’t a question he tends to ask… Ignorance being bliss and all that.

But there are times that… That he has made mistakes.

And like - when they boyfriend or whatever finds out. It’s… Not great but you know. Usually, they’re angry and Patrick can convince himself that the man yelling in both their faces is an arse and yeah - okay - he’ll let the guy get his licks in and the odd hex here, or punch in the face is his penance but what happens now is between them. Patrick can walk away and live his life. 

And given how Patrick is - discovery doesn’t happen often (he doesn’t tend to entertain long-term affairs after all) but one time… One time it did? It backfired spectacularly. 

*Deserving it may actually be a very subjective thing however so… Take that point loosely. 

This - this was unwise. Patrick knew it - he did, he did… But as Ros swept his fingers through his hair, fingers curling to pull on it as she reached the crown of his head - the only place it was long enough really to do so - his blood rushed south and he tried to stop thinking about it. Thrashing about in a supply closet like a pair of eels with their lips glued together was hardly dignified; doing so at an office party was stupid. But when she’d brushed against him, making sure he’d seen her slipping away and given him that smile…

He’d known Ros had a family, known it before he’d seen her walk in with them tonight seen them waving at him from pictures on her desk. Her husband, her kids - they were part of why, he guessed, things had lasted so long between him. Ros was older than him and obviously not interested in leaving her family. No chance of intimacy. No risk of a romance with expectations. But by God, she was sexy and naughty and what they had wasn’t love but he loved it. 

He swept his hands up her sides - how far was she going to take this - here - with only a door separating them from their colleagues and their families? Her hands moved to his belt, working the leather through the buckle and he figured he was about to get his answered when the door swung open with a bang. 

He’s expecting a fight - honestly, he is - and he’s already got a hand going for his wand because… Because, if he’s honest, he kind of wants it… Although he won’t cast first - because… Because a small part of him knows he deserves it. Or maybe, thinks that Frank deserves to vent his anger somewhere. The fight doesn’t come, however, because as Ros peels her body from his, exposing him to the air - chilled slightly by his choices - Frank is striding away, the crowd parting for him - and without a backwards glance, even for her children - Ros is following.

For a few seconds - no one speaks and then, slowly - normalcy returns, or at least. Some impression of it. Someone with sense removes the kids he’s been trying very hard not to look at, Eyes follow him as he leaves the closet - but no one approaches to admonish (or praise) for his actions. He spots his partner across the room - a feat, given that Tim is shorter than probably every other man there - and there’s a brief, silent conversation between the two which communicates that he’s fine and they’ll talk later. 

He sits at the first desk he finds unoccupied and he drinks. No one approaches and he wonders if he is a pariah now for his tryst - which he assures himself must be the first of many Ros has engaged in - or for the energy that rolls off him like heat - the coiled need to fight something, a fire snuffed prematurely and left as glowing embers. 

When someone finally joins him - female flesh wrapped up in silver dress robes - he is, at least, a little drunk but no longer in the mood for fooling around. The only thing he’s ever liked more than that is fighting and the itch of want is turning to anger and he hates Frank and he hates everyone here and he was just about to leave - so he refuses to lift his gaze until they speak.  

“That looked like fun, earlier.” There is a tension in the tone he doesn’t quite pick up as he looked up at her. “You wanna give me a whirl, huh?”

“You’re a bit young for me.” He states dryly and it’s true. The girl - familiar looking as she is -  perching on the edge of the desk could barely be out of Hogwarts. 

“Yeah? You’re a good guy huh? Is that why you were fucking my mum?” 

The dots, slowed down as they were by alcohol, connected. Ros’ daughter - her eldest child. “Marie… Shit… I wouldn’t say that we were-”

“Oh I’m sorry - was it-? Was it love? Were you two making love?” He understands the anger, he does. He’s never felt what she must be feeling, thank God, but he’d be pissed too.  “Is that what it was? Do you love-?” He knows the question that’s coming and there is no right answer to it - he knows the honest answer but unless he wants to see her become apoplectic with rage he has to avoid it, so he interrupts.

“Your mum loves you, she loves the three of you very, very much.” 

There is a second where Marie’s expression twitches, before twisting back to anger. “There’s FOUR of us! My brothers, me AND MY DAD!” She’s left him speechless with that, and so she continues. “What-? What were you thinking? That’d she’d leave him and you could be our new dad-?! I all ready have a dad and he’s ten thousand times better than you!” 

“You’re- You’re right your dad-”

“Don’t! Don’t you dare say a word about him!”

“I was just gonna-”

“I don’t want to hear it. You knew. You knew and you did it anyway. You’re a bastard.”

He stands and he can’t reconcile what he feels as she takes a step backwards, eyes blown wide - clearly afraid - with his conscience. She’s a kid, an angry kid - and he doesn’t blame her because Merlin knows - he’s angry right now too. He leans down, close and quiet, trying to control the shaking in his hands. “Yeah? Then what about your mum, huh, princess? I didn’t beg her to cheat on your dad. What kind of person is she?” Patrick straightened up, throwing back the last of his drink and striding away because frankly - he knows his limits and he’s straining against them. 

Out - away from the crowd that had been giving them a wide berth until he stood. Out - away from Tim who was trying to get to him. Out - all night long. Out - and alone. 

Even when he returns to the office the next morning, he still feels alone. Ros looks wretched and so does he - it’s obvious he found a fight somewhere - but he doesn’t have eyes for her today as he marches to the office of his superior - his pride truly shredded, his ego bruised, and his conscience aching. 

[theprincebuffoon]

The Story of the Three Blossoms

The Story of the Three Blossoms

When Haroun ibn Hassan married his fourth wife, she was well of age; she was nineteen summers old, but fairly innocent. The wedding had been brief, for Haroun ibn Hassan was traveling, and had only made the arrangements on the road. His fourth wife's name was Maryam; she was of a fine family, but one fallen on hard times. When Haroun passed through her village, he had married her as an act of compassion, to ensure she had a future in comfort. Even though she was beautiful as a flower, Haroun was not moved by her; for he was only fond of men.

At their wedding night, Haroun did not make love to her. Instead he took her hand, and said:

”I am Haroun ibn Hassan, and men speak far and wide of my wisdom. I know you to be a woman who is fond of other women.”

At hearing this, she blushed, and withdrew, embarrassed, but Haroun held her hand. ”For this reason only have I married you. I am bound on a long journey, and cannot accompany you home, so I will tell you now – I wish for you to be the playmate of my three wives. They are beautiful, and they will take good care of you. But be warned, they are lecherous women. Do you accept this?”

Maryam nodded at this, and secretly her heart leapt with joy, for she had desired women her entire life. And so she lay next to Haroun ibn Hassan, and he did not touch her, and the next day their roads were parted. But before Haroun ibn Hassan left, he gave to her a signet ring, and he said: ”This is proof you are my wife. Present it before my wives, and they will accept you as their younger sister.”

He continued: ”My first wife is named Halima. She is stern and proud, and the other two fear her. You must show her you are brave if you wish for her to accept you.”

Maryam said, ”I understand.” And she remembered this.

”My second wife is named Ruba. She is plump and playful, and with a lecherous mind. You must be prepared to seduce her if you wish for her to accept you.”

Maryam said, ”I understand.” And she remembered this.

”My third wife is named Safiyya. She is clever and quick, and with a mind for trickery. You must show her sharpness of mind and make her yield if you wish for her to accept you.”

Maryam said, ”I understand.” And she remembered this. And so Haroun ibn Hassan pressed the ring into her palm, and he continued on his journey to India. Maryam packed a camel with her goods and gold, and brought along only a single servant, her stableboy Hakeem, who was a quick-witted lad and a good man for the journey.

After a few days they came to the big city, where Haroun ibn Hassan lived with his wives. They had gone through the desert, and were hungry and thirsty, so Maryam said to Hakeem:

”Let us stop by a caravanserai, so that we can eat and drink, and I may change to my prettiest clothes before I meet the other wives.”

”Is this wise, mistress?” asked Hakeem. ”There are many thieves in the city.”

”It is unwiser still to appear before my sister-wives all dusty and unappealing,” she said. And that was that, and Hakeem could not object, so they went into a caravanserai, and Maryam ordered a room and a bath to be drawn, and Hakeem set to guarding the camel. But as Maryam was laying out her clothes, the glittering signet ring twinkled, tied into her garments. A servant woman saw the glittering ring, and she did not think twice about stealing it, and Maryam did not notice. So when Maryam had scrubbed herself, and rose from the bath, she got dressed in her finest clothes, but she did not have Haroun ibn Hassan's golden ring tied into their folds.

There is not a one in fifty miles who does not know the splendour of Haroun ibn Hassan's mansion, with its white walls and climbing ivy, its broad balconies, its shining turrets. But Maryam had never seen this mansion before, and when she came before it she was overjoyed. She walked to the door and announced who she was, and the servants let her into the presence of the wives.

In the middle sat Halima. She was indeed a stern and handsome woman, wearing a green kaftan robe with with a gold finish. To the left sat Ruba. She was indeed a plump and busty woman, and wore a red kaftan robe with a gold finish. To the right sat Safiyya. She was indeed a sly-looking woman, dark-skinned with fine athletic forms, wearing a blue kaftan robe with a gold finish. Maryam came before them in her light pink robe, as young and rosy as a pomegranate blossom. She knelt down before her sister-wives, and said:

”I am Maryam, fourth wife of Haroun ibn Hassan. I am pleased to meet my older sisters and beg of you to shelter me.”

Halima said, ”If you truly are our husband's fourth wife, take out the golden ring he gave you as proof.”

Maryam fumbled in her robes – but she couldn't find the ring. And the three wives looked at each other, and their hearts were downcast, for secretly all three desired this beautiful young woman. But without proof, they feared the others would reprimand them. So Safiyya asked her older sister, ”Do you say she is our husband's wife?” and Ruba, in turn, asked her older sister, ”Do you say she is our husband's wife?” and Halima said nothing. And before long, the servants were showing Maryam the door.

And so, once she was outside, Maryam put her face in her hands and wept – for what could she do? The proof of her marriage was gone, and Haroun ibn Hassan was halfway to India! But Hakeem heard her cry, and he came to her, and she explained her predicament to him. Hearing this, he put an arm around her shoulder.

”It is written, 'falseness lasts an hour, truth lasts until the end of time.' Surely there must be a way to persuade your sister-wives of the truth. I will take employ with the servantry, and find some opportunity. In the meantime, go to the caravanserai and see about your ring.”

And so Hakeem became a stableboy at Haroun ibn Hassan's mansion, and Maryam went back to the caravanserai. The maid who had stolen the ring was long gone, but the caravanserai put two and two together and figured her for the thief, and apologized deeply. And he let Maryam stay under his roof for free.

The First Blossom

Now, Hakeem soon noticed that Safiyya – the third wife – had a penchant for alchemy. Every day she would visit the bazaar to see the fire-eaters, the astrologers, and the potion-mixers, and she would often buy some medicine or brew. Having learned this, Hakeem reported it to Maryam, and Maryam took a third of her pink robes and sold the fabric. For the money, she bought three clay pots. In the first, there was honey. In the second, sticky sap from an African tree. In the third, hot water. Armed with these three, she dressed herself as a peddler, rubbed dirt on her face, and put two of the pots under her clothes. Thus, she went to the house of Haroun ibn Hassan, and called to be let in.

Hakeem had made sure the other two wives were busy. And so Safiyya came to the door.

”My good woman,” said Maryam, in disguise. ”I have here a magical kind of honey, which prevents the telling of lies. Will you buy a little?”

Safiyya raised an eyebrow. ”I have never heard of such a thing,” she said.

”If you let me in, I will demonstrate.”

And Safiyya rested her eyes on the peddler-woman, and though dirty she was undeniably beautiful, and Safiyya couldn't help but let her in. And so the two of them sat down in the study together, and Maryam opened the pot to show glistening amber honey. ”Try it,” she said. And she took a dollop of honey up on her two fair fingers, and reached them out, and Safiyya couldn't resist but put her mouth around them. Maryam's fingers tasted sweet, and they were soft and gentle.

”Now,” said Maryam, ”Tell me your husband's name.”

”Haroun ibn Hassan,” said Safiyya, with pride. Maryam nodded, knowing that even as Safiyya wished to test the honey, she would not resist bragging about her powerful husband. ”A truth.” she nodded. ”Now,” she continued, raising two fingers again, ”tell me whose fingers these are?”

Safiyya smirked, accepting the honey, licking it from Maryam's dainty hands. ”They are the fingers of a princess'.” she said. ”A lie. Your honey doesn't work.”

But as Safiyya had licked her fingers, with her other hand, Maryam had switched two pots. She had anticipated such an answer. Now she raised two fingers covered in sweet sap. Eagerly, Safiyya took them in her mouth once again.

”Is it a lie?” Maryam wondered. ”Now tell me whose fingers you want between your legs.”

Safiyya blushed. She was outraged. Such a brazen question! She parted her lips to object – but the sap in her mouth had all but glued her teeth together! She blinked, eyes wide as she chewed the sticky, gummy stuff, tried to clear it so that she could speak. But she could not!

”You cannot lie.” Maryam smiled. ”You want my fingers between your legs. For I really am a princess, and you have never been with one so beautiful before.”

Saying this, she cast off her peddler's robes. Underneath it, she wore a short skirt that began over the navel. This garment was white, embroidered, the finest under-garment she owned, and truly one befitting a princess. Her breasts were bare, small, blushing, crowned by little nipples. Her hair was like dark gold, tossed over her shoulder, a cascade down towards her collarbone, and her slender legs were covered only by sandals, which she kicked off, brushing her thigh. Safiyya's eyes grew wide.

”Here,” she said, taking one of the two pots in her naked lap. ”Drink this potion, it will cure you.”

And so, she set forth the third pot, filled with hot water. As Safiyya drank it, the sticky sap dissolved, and she could once again speak. Her face was flush, and her eyes were on Maryam's body, and she had never seen so beautiful a woman before. Still she didn't recognize her face.

”How- what-?” she wondered, and Maryam leaned backwards, scooped up more honey from the pot. Safiyya had not noticed the deception. ”Say again,” she commanded, ”whose fingers do you want between your legs?” And with this, she extended, slowly, seductively, her hand towards Safiyya, her fingers dripping with golden-yellow honey. Safiyya was hypnotized, unable to see anything but the honey that dripped, slowly, onto Maryam's bare legs. She leaned in, gently, and took the fingers in her mouth.

”...yours,” she admitted as she tasted the honey.

”A truth.” Maryam smiled. ”But a princess doesn't do such a thing easily, does she?”

Saying so, she pushed the pots aside and lay on her back, spreading out in all her youthful glory before Safiyya, her arms above her head, her thighs apart but her legs crossed at the ankle. The little skirt was all that covered her, teasingly hiding her womanhood and her thighs. Safiyya could only keep looking, as Maryam dipped her fingers once more in the pot of honey, this time licking it off herself, parting her fingers, running her tongue between them. ”I am a princess,” she said assertively. Safiyya would believe her even without the honey. Lazily, almost with disregard, Maryam lifted her skirt and put two honey-covered fingers on the inside of her thigh. She dipped her other hand in the jar, smeared it over her breasts. Then she stuck her fingers in her mouth again, licked her hand clean. ”You are my subject.”

Safiyya leaned forwards, kneeling over the supine princess. With a reverent bow, she leaned down over Maryam's naked breast, and kissed it. ”I am your subject,” she said.

”A truth. Do not dare to lie. I have need of your tongue, and the antidote is out.”

”I will not,” Safiyya said. Hearing this, Maryam lazily turned, lifted her breast toward Safiyya's mouth, indicated for her to lick it, to taste it. Safiyya did, licked the dainty breast clean, and then the other, as Maryam groaned her satisfaction. She lifted her skirt even further, all the way, revealed her sex to her lover. Safiyya understood, and her head sank down between Maryam's thighs, eager to taste her, to please her, to receive her reward. But Maryam stopped her.

”You'll first be naked.” she said. ”Undress for me.”

Safiyya nodded. She got to her feet, eagerly, let her robes fall. Underneath, she wore a plain white gown which did little to hide her lithe body, her firm, athletic forms, but Maryam was still not satisfied. So Safiyya must pull the gown over her head, and reveal her nude form in its entirety – with her small, proud breasts, her fine hips, her naked feet, the curl of black between her legs. Only then was Maryam satisfied, and spread her legs again, lifting the skirt. Safiyya leaned down, kissed her inner thigh, overcome with desire for the beautiful princess. Hungrily, she continued up Maryam's thighs as the younger girl groaned, parted her legs, welcomed Safiyya's lips against hers.

Safiyya's tongue slipped inside her folds, and Maryam shook with pleasure, not used to so talented a lover. But she kept her confidence, and let her leg up over Safiyya's shoulder, pressing herself against the older woman's face. The soft, wet tongue was unbearably pleasant. Safiyya was eager, licking her hungrily but steadily, nails digging into her thighs and her bottom. Slowly, Maryam grinded against Safiyya's face until her young body could take it no longer, and she arched her back and accepted it, let waves of pleasure flow through her body. It was her first real orgasm.

Dazed, she leaned back, panting. Safiyya withdrew her face, her lips dripping, her eyes still hungry for more, yet she smiled pleasantly. ”Was it good, your majesty?” she asked.

”It- it was.” Maryam managed, trying to compose herself. Her plan wasn't finished. But Safiyya wasn't, either.

”Please, put your fingers between my legs.” she said. ”Please, let me enjoy you as you enjoyed me.”

Maryam smiled, still panting. She pulled herself up with all the strength she could manage, took Safiyya's fallen robe and tore it. Gently, delicately, she put a fold of the cloth over Safiyya's eyes. ”No peeking.”

Safiyya only nodded eagerly, hot, wet, perfectly naked. Maryam nudged one of the pots with her foot, and the sticky African sap spilled over the floor. ”On your knees”, she commanded. ”Legs wide.” Safiyya could nothing but obey, enslaved by desire, and sank down to her knees. The gummy sap clung to her, but she noticed nothing, her breath hot against Maryam's bare body. Maryam permitted Safiyya to kiss her on the stomach, moaned at the touch, wished she could continue but knew that she could not, not yet. She took another strip of cloth and bound Safiyya's hands behind her back. Then, and only then, did she put her hands on the other woman's body, trailing them over her breasts.

”You're a very good subject,” she said. Her fingers trailed down between Safiyya's thighs, and she found her wet, hot, willing. Eager. Her index finger slipped in, met the pearl of her sex, rubbed it. The effect was explosive; Safiyya wailed, whined, helpless. Surely by now the household would have heard her. Knowing this, Maryam leaned down and took the honey-pot, smeared its last contents lovingly over Safiyya's naked breasts. Let it trail and drip down her stomach. Then, she leaned in to Safiyya's ear.

”I am Maryam, fourth wife of Haroun ibn Hassan. I have outwitted you, Safiyya, third wife of Haroun ibn Hassan, and if you want me for your lover, you must accept our marriage. Only then will I finish what I started.”

With that, Maryam threw on her peddler's robes, opened the door wide, and stepped outside. Safiyya was left helpless on her knees, glued in place by the sap, coated in honey, naked and dripping her juices on the floor, denied the orgasm she so badly wanted. And in this shameful position her serving staff found her.

The Second Blossom

Safiyya did not dare tell her sister-wives that Maryam had bested her. And so Hakeem kept working in Haroun's mansion, and Maryam went back to the caravanserai. But she had learned much, and she recalled Safiyya's lips between her legs for many nights as she bathed. She was determined she would not rest until she had convinced the other two.

One day it happened that Ruba went on a journey to see her mother. Hakeem heard of this only after she had left, but he knew she was due to be gone for three days, and then return by the way through the southern desert. Knowing this, he went to the caravanserai and reported to Maryam. And Maryam took a third of her pink robe and sold the fabric. For the money, she bought a length of rope and a bowl of sweet dates, and she traveled with a merchant to a southern oasis. There, she slept beneath the open sky through the night.

The following day, Maryam rose early and secured the rope high on a date palm by the waterline, and made sure it had a loop on the end. She ate some of the fruits from the oasis, but she did not touch her bowl of dates. Instead, she stripped off her traveler's clothing, and hid them in a bush, and slipped down into the oasis to bathe. Washing herself, she was a sight to behold – her skin fair, her long golden-brown hair floating around her shoulders like a mantle, her cheeks fresh and rosy, her form youthful and lithe. She paddled in the water for a little while, until a cloud of dust became visible in the distance. Seeing this, she went out of the water, dripping and nude, and began drying her long dark hair between her hands.

On the caravan, the caravan leader turned towards his mistress, and said: ”By God, there is a naked woman in the oasis. Could it be a trap, so close to the city?”

”A naked woman?” asked Ruba, returning from her visit. She climbed out from her litter, where she had been carried and shaded, and saw that it was so – a beautiful naked woman, washing her hair on the shore of the oasis, oblivious to their presence.

”Take us closer,” she commanded. And seeing this, Maryam turned and scattered the sweet dates over the water, then slipped back into it, her cheeks flush. Soon, the caravan was close enough to see her angelic head, sticking out of the water, and the outline of her lithe young body, barely blurred beneath it. Ruba walked out from behind the caravan master, and seeing Maryam's young body so barely concealed beneath the waters, she was filled with desire and knew she must see more. ”Why don't you come out of the water, girl?” Ruba asked, with lechery in her voice. ”We'll dry you off and feed you.”

”With so many men nearby?” Maryam giggled, her cheeks genuinely flush, for she knew they could already see more of her than she wanted. ”Send them away first, and I'll come up.”

Ruba turned to her men. ”Return at dusk,” she said. ”I'll spend the afternoon here.”

The caravan leader could only obey his mistress, and so off went the men and the camels, to stay behind a sand dune some distance away. Only once they were safely out of sight did Maryam emerge from the water, holding one of the floating dates. She was a miracle to behold, water flowing from her fair, nude form, her little breasts rosy and pert, her hair flowing around her shoulders, and her sex barely covered by gentle, dark strands. She was still blushing, but showed herself off without fear to Ruba, and Ruba felt her heartbeat quicken.

”Here,” said Maryam, ”the dates that fall from this tree are delicious.”

Ruba took the date and bit into it. The sweet juice trickled over her chin and spattered on her great breasts, for Ruba was well-endowed. Oh, how sweet! How delicious! Yet her eyes stayed on Maryam, for now the girl flipped her head backwards over her head, so that droplets of water scattered, and stretched to her full height, showing off her slim, girlish body in all its naked beauty. And Ruba felt overcome with desire, and reached out to touch her.

Maryam giggled as her hand brushed her breast. She looked at Ruba, and felt hot and hungry for her large breasts, her generous hips, but she fought her urge. Instead she slipped away. ”So friendly,” she teased, as she danced back towards the waterline. Ruba followed her, stepping down into the oasis so that her shoes got soaked.

”Why don't you take those off?” Maryam said. ”There aren't any men nearby. Come bathe with me.”

Ruba looked around. She had never been naked outdoors before – it was so shameless and brazen, and not something she would ordinarily dare. But there wasn't a soul in sight but Maryam, and now the younger girl submerged again, slipped beneath the waters, swam through them like a dolphin, and Ruba could not resist. She slipped off her shoes and her socks, and let her heavy traveling robe fall from her shoulders, until she was wearing only her white linen gown. In this, she slipped down into the water, and the filmy gown clung to her, revealing the outline of her nipples, flowing around her thighs.

”Silly,” Maryam giggled and swam up to Ruba, kissing her gently on the cheek. ”Your clothes will get all wet. Here.” and she bunched up Ruba's gown in her hands and made to pull it over her head. But Ruba protested, batted against her, and instead seized the naked woman in her arms and kissed her lips, eager to claim her, to have her in whatever way she wanted. Maryam gave in, answered the kiss, and it was so hot and soft that she for a moment wanted nothing more but to continue kissing Ruba, to continue pressing her naked body against the other's swelling breasts, to float with her in the oasis forever. But she knew she must be careful. Instead, she pulled herself from the kiss and seized another floating date, seductively slipping it into her mouth and biting down on it. She floated away from Ruba, and the other woman followed, hypnotized. She chased her down; each time, they kissed, and then Maryam slipped away. Eventually Maryam swam for the shore – and there, she crawled up into the sand on all fours, displaying herself fully to the woman behind. She was excited now, properly – her sex was swollen, dripping. Ruba could not bear it – the sight of the girl's slim bottom giving way to gentle hair over her eager pink sex was too much. She crawled forwards, still in her undergown, and seized Maryam's thighs, kissing her between the legs. Maryam moaned.

”Fingers,” she cried, ”Fingers, please.”

In response, Ruba slipped two fingers into her mouth, licking them eagerly. Teasingly, carefully, she slipped them up between Maryam's thighs, and in between her folds, into her. Ruba curled her fingers this way and that, and Maryam moaned, louder and louder, still on all fours as Ruba kissed and fondled her bottom and her thighs. She was too expert a lover, and Maryam couldn't help herself – pleasure built up until hit her like a hammer, and her walls trembled around Ruba's fingers, pressing against them as she came. It was her second real orgasm, and it was far more powerful than the first.

She panted, hot and exhausted, still on all fours in the sand.

”My turn,” Ruba said hurriedly. ”Your mouth.”

Maryam rolled over in the sand, displaying her naked body from the front – her breasts, her stomach, her blushing, exhausted sex. ”Undress, first.”

Ruba pulled the gown hastily over her head. She was naked now, as naked as Maryam, and as her body came into view it was truly a blessing. Each of her breasts was large, almost as large as her head, yet firm and bouncing with her movements. Her stomach was generous, and her hips even moreso, and in between her legs, her sex was plump and inviting. Maryam gently pushed her back into the water.

”Float,” she said, and Ruba laid back. She could easily float on the calm oasis waters, and as she did, she spread her legs, and Maryam swam in between them, kissing her thighs, licking them. Slowly, slower than Ruba wanted, she worked her way up between her legs until she could taste them. She remembered how Safiyya had done it, slipped her tongue between the folds, licked slowly and gently, and Ruba purred. Carefully she worked her, gently licking the pearl between her legs, sucking on her folds, teasing her slowly towards orgasm. They floated through the water toward the palm tree, and Maryam stopped there, pulling her head out from between Ruba's legs.

”Continue,” Ruba whined, but Maryam did her best, seductive smile, and swam back, away from her lover. Seeing it, Ruba was infuriated, wanted to catch her, wanted to tame her. She went after Maryam, who giggled, and went up on the shore. Ruba scowled, but her look was still playful as she clambered out of the water, naked and dripping wet. ”Oh, a game of catch, is it?” she said. Maryam nodded, and headed for the tree – climbing it as easily as a monkey, despite being naked and barefoot. Ruba laughed.

”Such an evasive girl. I don't know if I can catch you up there.”

”Try.” Maryam smiled, and so Ruba reached up her hands, standing on tippy-toes by the shoreline... and Maryam pulled the loop of her rope around them, tying together Ruba's wrists. The woman gasped in shock, and then Maryam tugged on it, and Ruba swung out over the waterline, until the water was over her knees. She was suspended from the tree by her arms, her wet hair fallling over her eyes, clinging to her ample forms, her thick thighs thrashing in the water. But Maryam soon slipped down from the palm, and grabbed her feet, and used the other ropes to tie her in place. Ruba was flush all over, sputtering.

”What- what is this?” she cried in shock, as her legs were pulled apart, and she was left on brazen display, her sex wet and red, her breasts heaving and her nipples firm. Maryam put her hand between Ruba's legs and teased her, and the woman gasped, too worked up to resist. ”Is this how you want me?” she asked. ”Take me, then! Please! Your lips, your fingers, anything!”

But Maryam withdrew her hand. ”I am Maryam, fourth wife of Haroun ibn Hassan. I have outwitted you, Ruba, second wife of Haroun ibn Hassan, and if you want me for your lover, you must accept our marriage. Only then will I finish what I started.”

With that, Maryam gathered her clothes and the remaining dates, and disguised her face with dirt, and went to Ruba's caravan posing as a simple woman picking dates, and told them what she had seen at the oasis.

Ruba was left helplessly displayed, legs apart, hands in the air, bare breasts bobbing as she struggled. She was dripping wet from her body and her sex, denied the orgasm she so badly wanted. And in this shameful position her caravan found her.

The Third Blossom

Ruba did not dare tell her sister-wives that Maryam had bested her. And so Hakeem kept working in Haroun's mansion, and Maryam went back to the caravanserai. But she had learned much, and she recalled Ruba's fingers between her legs for many nights as she bathed. She was determined she would not rest until she had also convinced Halima.

But Halima was a woman of habits, and she rarely did anything out of the ordinary. And so, for some days, there was no news from Hakeem. One day, he came to the caravanserai looking defeated.

”I am sorry, mistress,” he said. ”Halima has no flaw I've been able to find. She enjoys gardening, poetry and tea. She keeps to herself or is with the other sister-wives. Her room is a sanctum, and I have never even been inside it, though I have spied her in the window from the garden, which is just above her rose-beds.”

Hearing this, Maryam was emboldened to her most daring plan thus far. And so, she took the last third of her pink robe and sold the fabric, and for the money she bought rope, and men's clothing, and a knife. Having gathered these things, she went to the mansion of Haroun ibn Hassan and met Hakeem by the stables. She was dressed now as a young rake might be – with a turban, a pair of wide trousers, a vest. And she said to Hakeem: ”Hide me in the hay-stacks by the camels.”

Hakeem worried, but he did not dare object to his mistress, and so he did what he was told. And Maryam waited in the haystack until it was night. When the moon rose over Haroun ibn Hassan's mansion, only then did she creep out from under the hay, and went into the garden, and looked up to Halima's window. The shutters stood open against the heat. Patiently, she waited until all was quiet, and then she took the rope and threw it over the shutter. She let the other end come back down, and tied it about her waist. Now she tested the weight. If she had truly been a man, it would not have carried her, but her light and slender form was not enough to pull the shutter from its hinges. And so, she carefully climbed to Halima's window. Inside was a rich perfume of roses. A curtained bed lay along one wall, and in this, she could see a woman sit up. A single candle burned on the bedside table.

”Who is it?” asked Halima, for she was quite keen-eared. Maryam crept into the window without a word, and closed the shutters. Halima pulled back the curtain, and she gasped at the sight of a stranger in her room! Likewise, Maryam was momentarily awed by Halima. Sleeping in her linen gown, she was a beauty of perhaps forty years, regal and stern-faced, with night-black hair in a bun. Her profile was like a Greek woman's, sharp and elegant, with elegant lips and powerful eyes, and her build was likewise heroic, with firm shoulders and sloping, handsome breasts on her chest. She swung her leg out over the edge of the bed, but Maryam brandished her knife.

”I am a thief,” she said with a flourish, ”a master thief. Stay quiet.”

At this, Halima's eyes turned sharp, and in the candlelight they glinted like steel. She turned them on Maryam, but Maryam did not flinch, and she spoke:

”I am Halima, first wife of Haroun ibn Hassan, and you should fear me. I have dozens of guards at my beck and call, and they will surely kill you if you lay a hand on me!”

But Maryam answered the gaze with a steely glare of her own. Unafraid, she strode forward and grabbed Halima's gown, and put the knife to the fabric. ”That may be,” she said, ”but I fear no-one, and I will have you naked, now. Do not cry out.”

And with that, the knife cut through Halima's gown, and her breasts came into view. These were gently sloped, pointy, ending in perky dark nipples, and her stomach was firm and taut like a heroine's. Maryam felt her heart beat faster at exposing the older woman so, but then she grabbed the fabric of the gown and tore it open completely. The hair between Halima's legs was night-black as on her hair, a triangular darkness between her bare, powerful thighs. Maryam put a hand on Halima's head and undid the band in her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders.

”Take off the robe,” Maryam commanded. But Halima did not. Instead, she lunged at her attacker and pushed Maryam backwards! The girl was so surprised by Halima's fierceness, that the knife fell from her hand and clattered against the table. The torn robe fell like a curtain around her, and she was face to face with Haroun ibn Hassan's first wife, in the pale light of the candle. Halima inhaled to yell for the guards, and Maryam did the first thing she could think of to silence her. Their lips met.

Halima, puzzled, pulled back, but she smacked her lips in confusion, and did not yell.

”By God,” she said, ”You are a woman!”

”It is true,” said Maryam. ”Will you still call for the guards?”

Halima seized the knife from where it had fallen. ”Maybe I will. But not if you stay quiet, girl.”

Saying so, Halima brought the knife to the front of Maryam's vest, and cut it open. Her young breasts came into view, pert and perky, nipples stiffening as her chest rose and fell. Seeing these, Halima smiled, a cruel and wicked smile. She put the knife to Maryam's trousers and cut the rope at the waistband. Then she slid off her victim completely, but still held the knife where Maryam could see it. ”Stand”, she commanded, and Maryam got to her feet. The trousers slipped from her body, exposing her curving hips and her young, gentle thighs. All she wore was a loincloth, a turban, and a pair of shoes. Halima pointed the knife at her.

”Take off the turban,” she ordered, letting her eyes wander over Maryam's body. Maryam did so, and her long golden-brown hair fell out over her naked shoulders.

”Take off the shoes.” Again, Maryam obeyed, slipping her dainty little feet out of the garments.

Then Halima stepped up closer to Maryam, so close she could feel her breath, and slipped the knife between Maryam's hip and the loincloth. Her eyes were locked with the prisoner's. ”Amuse me, wench, and maybe, just maybe, I'll let you get away.” The last garment fell from Maryam's hips. She was naked. Halima pulled her robe together and stepped back, admiring her captive, the way her gentle hair decorated the slope beneath her mound, the way her hair caught the moonlight, the way her little breasts heaved as she breathed. Yet the girl did not seem afraid.

”How?” she wondered. In response, Halima cautiously opened a drawer in her bedside table, and under this, a secret compartment. From it, she withdrew a long, slender golden object; it was gently curved, and it bulged at the top. She gave it to Maryam, and Maryam accepted, knowing what she was expected to do. It would be easy, for she was already excited.

Spreading her legs for her captor, Maryam moaned as she pushed the golden toy between her legs, between her folds, yelping slightly as it entered her. She reached for her breast, squeezed it, tweaked her nipple, let Halima see how much she enjoyed the treatment, and it was no acting, for she was. The golden toy felt firm and slippery inside her, and pushed against her in all the right ways. Soon, she was hot and flush all over. Halima smiled, and still holding the knife, advanced on Maryam. But now she no longer held her robe together – she let it fall open, and instead she put a hand on Maryam's, the one between her legs. ”On your knees,” she commanded, and Maryam could only obey, sinking down with her thighs spread wide. Halima leaned down and began to work the toy inside her captive, letting it slide in and out of Maryam with careful, expert rhythm. Maryam, in gratitude, lapped at Halima's naked breasts, kissing them, licking them, sucking them, and Halima purred in approval. The toy mercilessly slipped back and forth inside Maryam, and the girl could not take it for long, for Halima was her most skilled lover yet. Soon, a heady rush spread through her body, and she felt herself surrender completely as wave after wave of pleasure slammed through her, and her body convulsed and tightened around the toy as she moaned, whimpered, helpless in Halima's hands. It was her third real orgasm, and it was greater than both the other two combined.

”Good.” Halima said, smiling. She withdrew the toy from Maryam as she convulsed. Maryam sank down on her knees completely, drained, weak, surrendered. She was naked before Halima, and orgasm still shuddered through her body. ”Now I'll have you apprehended. You'll be dragged out into the streets like that, and put in the stocks.”

Maryam bit her lip. She couldn't let it happen. She was not yet finished. She inhaled, her body exhausted. But she would not admit defeat.

”No, please, mistress... madam... please,” she begged. ”Let me do you first. Let me please you.”

Halima froze, looking over the nude girl. Maryam contorted herself, leaned backwards to display herself, her breasts, her sex, her thighs that were covered in her juices. She opened her mouth, panting, ran her hands over her breasts, squeezed them, played with herself even though she was exhausted. ”Please... mistress... please,” she managed, and then she got down on all fours, crawled towards Halima and kissed her naked feet. ”Please let me serve you.”

Halima, without a word, lay back over the bed, let her robe fall open. She displayed herself regally, did not deign to touch her breasts or her thighs, simply consented to Maryam's presence. One hand still clutched the knife, the other, the golden toy. Maryam kissed her feet in supplication, then continued up her ankles, her calves, her thighs. There she stopped, and turned to the other, and continued up this one. She showered Halima with kisses, her hands brushing over the older woman's stomach, her breasts, before she reached up to kiss her hips, her bellybutton, and then sank down between her legs. She wetted two fingers and slipped them inside. She kissed, and lapped, and licked until she found the pearl between Halima's folds, and worked it with her tongue as her fingers worked inside, frantically, trying to use what she had learned. Halima simply softly purred, inhaling, exhaling. Her endurance was amazing. Then, just as Maryam thought she could not carry on any longer, she lowered her hand and presented the golden toy.

Maryam took it, kissed it, showed how worshipful she was, and Halima climbed up on all fours, showing Maryam where to put the golden toy. Gratefully, Maryam pushed it in between Halima's folds. Only now did the older woman moan, groan in pleasure, but Maryam knew she had done well so far. Halima was unbelievably wet, the toy slipping easily into her, in and out, in and out. The knife, in Halima's other hand, fell on the bed beside the pillow. She put her hands in her hair, groaned, almost screamed into the pillow as her face as her hips convulsed. She was close, getting closer, and her whole body rocked and shuddered as her hips swayed lewdly, mere inches from Maryam's face. Maryam stopped only as she was on the very brink of orgasm, and quivering like a leaf.

”No,” Halima protested, ”No, no, go on. More.”

But Maryam, quick as a weasel, snatched the knife from beside the pillow. She pushed it through the sleeves of Halima's robe, and down into the bedding, and pinned her there. It was quick work, but solid – Halima tugged and tugged against the robe, but the fabric would not give. Just to be sure, Maryam tied her wrists together with a strip of her turban.

”What – help, help,” Halima began to pant, but Maryam reached down and stuffed the torn loin-cloth in Halima's mouth. Then, she pulled up her rope and fastened Halima's feet to the bed-posts, her legs spread, the golden toy still slick between her lips. Maryam pushed it in further, and Halima's whole body quivered as, for the second time, she very nearly came. But she did not. Maryam leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

”I am Maryam, fourth wife of Haroun ibn Hassan. I have outwitted you, Halima, first wife of Haroun ibn Hassan, and if you want me for your lover, you must accept our marriage. Only then will I finish what I started.”

With that, Maryam screamed for the guards, kicked aside her ruined clothes, slipped out of the window stark naked, and returned to the stables, where she hid in the hay until morning.

Halima was left in her torn-open robe, her body on display, on all fours with her bare bottom lewdly in the air and the golden toy still sticking out between her folds, dripping with wetness, denied the orgasm she so badly wanted. And in this shameful position, her guards found her.

The Fourth Blossom

On the following day, Maryam sent Hakeem for a plain white robe. In this she dressed, still dirty from hiding in the hay. She looked no longer like a wealthy woman; her pink robe had been cut apart and sold, and her precious golden ring had been stolen. In this plain white robe, and with her hair tangled and full of hay, she stepped out of the stables and went around the building to Haroun ibn Hassan's mansion. And there, she called for the servants.

”Tell my sister-wives that Maryam, fourth wife of Haroun ibn Hassan has come, and that she aims to finish what she started.”

The servants frowned and crinkled their noses at this dirty woman in her simple clothes, but Maryam insisted, and so the servants went before the sister-wives. And before long, Maryam was called into the room. She stepped proudly, with her dirty robes swishing, her feet bare on the cold marble of Haroun ibn Hassan's floor.

In the middle sat Halima.To the left sat Ruba. To the right sat Safiyya. Before them stood Maryam, in her simple peasant's clothes, and she did not kneel or bow. Instead, she spoke.

”I am Maryam, fourth wife of Haroun ibn Hassan. I have bested each of you, and left you humiliated. Safiyya in your study, on your knees. Ruba, hanging from a tree in the desert. Halima, on all fours with a golden toy between your legs.”

And all three of the women turned hot red, their faces flush.

”From you, Safiyya, I learned how to use the tongue. From you, Ruba, the fingers. From you, Halima, the golden toy.” With these words, Maryam cast off her dirty white robe, and stood naked before them, and undeniably beautiful. ”With all these will I please you, and not betray you again, if you accept me as the fourth wife of Haroun ibn Hassan, and take me into your household. And only then will I finish what I started.”

And Safiyya, Ruba, and Halima all agreed she was their husband's wife. And then, right there, naked and dirty in the master's grand hall, Maryam fulfilled her promises.

And all four of Haroun ibn Hassan's wives slept well that night.

[amandaelisablog]

Crime Shows and Bad Decisions

To Whom It May Concern:

 Salutations to you, I am going to delve into the many criminal shows that have been and still air today. More than likely you have spent time watching these programs and wonder  to yourself how these people manage to find themselves in these situations. At this point I find myself critiquing their poor decisions.

There are many out there and this is just a short list:

·         Forensic Files

·         48 hours

·         Homicide Hunter with Joe Kenda

·         Who The Bleep Did I Marry

·         America’s Most Wanted

·         Dateline

·         Snapped

·         American Justice

·         Killer Kids

·         Making A Murderer

·         Mommy Dead and Dearest

·         Disappeared

·         Nightmare Next Door

·         True Crime with Aphrodite Jones

·         I (Almost) Got Away With It

·         Scorned: Love Kills

·         Obsession: Dark Desires

Looking at these lists there are at least one or more that you might have seen. You could be like me and find the shows fascinating and learn the not to-do’s from the people telling their stories. Each show has it niche and they might deal with parallel issues but then they have different ways to tell a story. Forensic Files for instance deals with a variety of cases involving rape, murder, kidnapping, serial killers, faking deaths and cold cases. It is truly fascinating how they’re able to solve these cases with a simple fiber from a car to even plants just with their DNA and some smart investigations. 48 hours is just as it sounds, the first 48 hours is vital to find someone who has gone missing. This is actually very common with the police department and so on.

I don’t know if any of you have seen the case of Gypsy Rose Blanchard and her mother Claudine “Dee Dee” Blanchard? It is covered on Mommy Dead and Dearest and to most it seemed like an open and closed case. It was much more complicated than that and there are many who sit on either side of the fence. This is the story presented in this case; Dee Dee spent almost all of Gypsy’s life keeping her disabled. She made up all of her medical conditions and spent over a decade stuck in a wheelchair. She was on so many medications that they induced the symptoms of the supposed conditions which she used to make her look sick to gain favor with different organizations. Dee Dee kept her daughter’s age from her as well, even telling her father not to reveal her age because she was mentally that of a 5 year old though physically being 15 years old.  It was discovered throughout the story that Dee Dee had Munchhausen by proxy which is a disorder in which the caretaker will induce sickness to get attention and gifts. These gifts were expensive trips to Disney world and other vacations. Dee Dee had also stated they lost their home in hurricane Katrina, so the place the relocated to build them a home for free. Dee Dee kept her daughter hostage for most of her life, abused her for trying to get away, keeping her away from her father and lied to keep people from helping Gypsy. To add to this Dee Dee had been her own mother’s caregiver and let her starve to death. She even tried to poison her step mother. Gypsy had run away a few times and her mother always found her and would threaten her and abuse her for her actions. The conclusion of this sad tale is that Gypsy had her mother killed by her mentally ill boyfriend. People felt as though Gypsy had suffered all of her life and they didn’t want to put in prison for life, being that she had been a victim in a terrible situation. They gave her ten years and she’ll still have a chance when she gets out.  

Obsession: Dark Desires is a terribly creepy show. The lengths that some people with go to for those they become obsessed with. Most of these cases involve different varieties of stalkers, love struck employees, ex-boyfriends and next door neighbors. It’s a scary world nowadays because of the internet and how much we give free for people to use against us. Just know that if you have someone obsessed with you then you definitely want to go online and look up websites like Beenverified to remove your information from being purchased. There are a number of free ones where you can just go in a delete them completely. This prevents others from having access to your previous and current addresses your family members and so much more. This is so legitimate I have done this and it’s a load off my mind to have this information off of the web. I’m sure that there are more out there but if you’re dedicated them you’ll have peace of mind.

While on other shows one of the reoccurring themes are the cases of both men and women who meet a charming person and within a month they get married without the allotted time to get to know each other. It is then that the trouble slowly begins. They don’t give enough time to get to know each other; there isn’t time to get to know someone in just a month. Because of this these people come face to face with a real life monster. Worst yet the small glimpses shown they brush aside and let them go. We as people should be aware of anyone in our lives. I’m not telling you readers that you should be suspicious but just be aware and give time in a relationship to learn the ins and outs of the person you might fall for and spend your life with.

Personally and this is just me mainly because of the things I’ve seen and been through; background search, tests for possible STDs. People lie and that means everyone, they will tell you one thing and you later find that the person you lie beside is a complete stranger. If the person you plan to be with does truly love you then they will not have any problems with your request in looking into them. It goes both ways too and you can give them the same thing. Just think for a second if everyone did this there could be complete trust, more so than what you want to imagine. If you were able to really know the person you bring into your life things would work out better. A lot of these people want to rationalize that they just had to trust the person’s word and that was enough. It really isn’t though and this is the end of each episode especially in ‘Who The Bleep Did I Marry?’ where each person says they wished they had known and how devastating it had been. With a little bit of knowledge you could save yourself years of your life wasted if this person turns out to be a horrible person.

Once let’s say a woman named Jane gets married to John the light switch flips and he shows his true colors. At this point you’re tied together because of the marriage. What’s worse is when they have children together and the children are used or kidnapped by the spouse. Not enough people stop and plan these things out, yes sometimes there’s accidents but most of the time its poor protection and planning. People make the mistake of joining bank accounts, even if you trust the person completely it’s better for your relationship not to. Most successful couples will tell you that with this separation in accounts the couple can erase one possible issue that most couples have. Money can tear people apart, even the strongest couples. Now back to the case of Jane and John, she will feel as though it is what you do in a relationship is join together bank accounts adding your spouse to all your accounts. It is not a breach of trust to keep things separated. You stay equal in your relationship and still are able to share your money with one another.

When you first date someone they only show you the good side of them. It’s new and exciting and you want to make a great impression but you need to get to the core of this person. But as we learn from these shows it is unwise to take that at face value. They are wolves in sheep’s clothing and the victims don’t see it coming when they wolf tear their lives apart.

The worst one are the ones who don’t have a criminal record because their acts have never made it through the system. Some lie about their name and that’s what makes it harder. This makes it harder for you to dig deeper.

If you notice that something isn’t right use your instincts and get out. It will get worse and no matter how many times you rationalize it there has to be a time when you leave and save yourself and your children. There is a point when trying to make the marriage work falls off the list of priorities especially when it comes to abuse. I had just watched an episode of Who the bleep did I Marry and this husband was drugging his wife every night so that he could have sex with her unconscious body. She finds out about the drugging and confronts him and she basically said don’t do it again, not this is messed up stay away from me. He did it again and she stayed after that, it wasn’t until she finds the videos that she decided this was what would break her and cause her to make a solid decision. Another thing that just baffles me is the ones where the woman or man gets a glimpse into the real person that they are and then they’re proposed to, they actually say yes despite continued abuse and mistreatment.

I’m not going to lie here and say that I know everything or that I’ve ever been completely wise in my past. But now that I’m older and look back I at least can say once I saw the red flags I would walk away and keep myself safe. I’m glad for this though and it opened me up to finding someone perfect for me.

Keep your eyes and mind opened to the world around you don’t allow someone to put you down, criticize you, deceive you, or control your life. You’re an independent person and you can still be in a relationship even if it isn’t with this person not treating you well. You will have problems in any relationship, but use a wise mind to pick out and weigh what you can fix and what you cannot. Don’t just jump into marriage lightly just because they seem perfect at the time. Live together feel each other out and learn their quirks before marriage even becomes a thought. I suggest doing as I do and binge watch these shows, especially Who the bleep did I Marry? Do it you won’t regret it!

Be wise my dear readers.

 Sincerely

Amanda M