satisfying indeed!

She can go to Hell

“3 wishes”, she articulated. “I trust you know the drill? Can’t wish for more wishes, or to be God, etc. That’s about the size of it.”

I nodded. “I understand, but one thing I want to make clear: I don’t want to find out there’s some crazy side effect, or hidden curse for all eternity or some shit. I want the things I wish for to benefit me, NOT to somehow turn around and hurt me. You promise that’s how this works?”

She cocked her head quizzically, as toddlers do when confronted with a conundrum. “Well of course, dear boy. Contrary to what you may think, I’m not out to get you. I have no reason to want to harm you. You have literally no risk in this endeavor.”

My gut tightened nervously.

“Satisfied?” she asked me with an impatient sigh, like a tired old tutor who has been teaching math for decades.

“Ok, I’m sold.” I grasped the pen and signed the contract before I waivered again.

For my first wish, I elected to have a weekly paycheck bigger than anyone else’s on earth. Rather than have a lump sum of cash, and risk spending it on a stupid island or being robbed, now I was guaranteed to be wealthy for the rest of my life.

Next, I took a cultured approach: fine art! I wished for an entire house full of famous pieces. My own showcase of literally priceless paintings.

Finally, I made sure to cover my ass for all eternity. “Heaven! I shouted joyously. I want to spend my afterlife enjoying limitless ecstasy & fulfillment forever.”

Smiling broadly, she signed her portion of the now-completed contract. "You’ve made some marvelous selections, child. You will indeed be satisfied, now & forevermore.”

She tore off my copy, folded it, sealed it with wax, & slipped the document into a stately leather pouch.

Her eyes met mine, for a consummating moment filled with irrevocability, and then she gave final instructions:

“And now, our collections agency will set about obtaining your desires! Unfortunately it’s not like Aladdin, you understand. These things cannot be contrived from thin air,” she winked.

I didn’t hide my worried tone, “Whoa, Collections Agency? What the fuck does that mean? You told me I had nothing to worry about!”

“Of course not, dear boy”, she assured me. “We must simply go about the business of collecting what is rightfully yours.”

“The money, we will procure from various banks around the world, and of course those places can spare it.”

“The art, we will replace what we take from museums, with replicas. Not a soul can tell the difference, behind the security glass.”

“And as for your eternal life in heaven, you will certainly be getting that as well! Though you didn’t earn it with your actions, tisk tisk” she slapped her tongue.

“That’s why we had you list a character reference on the contract; you chose well! Your lovely daughter has lived a very honorable life.”


UNDERFELL’s Echo Update is now GOLD and ready for release on Game Jolt for October 1st. Meaning I’ve completed what I have been able to and am satisfied with the product I was able to complete that I’ll be giving out to everyone for free on that date.

It’s been almost a year since the initial demo. We’ve been hard at work on this game for nearly 2 years now.

However, with the release comes some drawbacks.

- Combat is heckin’ broken. Like, not *actually* broken, it works fine - but our programmer is MIA working on his own stuff and hasn’t gotten back to me. Combat will not be in this release.

- We simply did not have time to include the full Underswap Echo (there’s more before you play as Cross).

- Followers and world quests aren’t available right now because, once again, we were limited by time and we do not have the resources available to complete it right now. It also doesn’t help that combat isn’t working the way I’d like.

I hope to remedy all three of these BEFORE the CPAU update or BY the CPAU update this holiday season. Hopefully, you can forgive us - we’re trying as hard as we can! Regardless of these drawbacks I am indeed VERY satisfied with what we’re shippin’ out on Game Jolt, and we hope you all will be too.

I need to get some rest and so does the rest of my team.

Keep in mind that Xedra’s upcoming stream tonight will NOT have the final demo product, there have been some additions and changes since then (mostly bug fixes.) Hope to see you there!

[…] Only the roar that greets Bette Midler’s entrance in Hello, Dolly! compares to the explosion in the Richard Rodgers Theatre when Javier Muñoz sings the words “Alexander Hamilton” in the opening number that bears his name. Granted, when you have waited so long, heard so much, and negotiated the soul-killing obstacle course involved in attending any Broadway show, you really want a spectacular return on your investment. In this case, however, the fact that I knew what was coming at almost every moment did nothing to diminish the feeling I eagerly shared with the audience. It was the exhilaration of collaborating, as every audience does, with a company on stage in creating something indelible, something transformative and something almost indescribably pleasurable.

Hamilton is in great shape. In the case of Muñoz, it’s not too surprising; he’s been with the show from the beginning as Miranda’s stand-by and performed the lead when the Obama family stopped by the Rodgers for a visit. Muñoz may be the better singer (Miranda is hardly shabby in that department). Miranda never let us forget the wince of an orphan’s insecurity buried deep beneath his layers of determination and self-confidence; Muñoz conveys tougher armor. I’m not going to declare one better than the other; they’re different and equally satisfying.

Indeed, it’s generally an odious critical gambit to compare performances. Who cares how many Uncle Vanyas I’ve seen, tell me about this one. There may be slightly more justification here because the original Broadway cast album is ubiquitous and many theater goers are familiar with the voices that created Hamilton. In this case they really are significant, but again, more because of their stylistic differences than because of any diminishment in the stature of the performances. Hamilton’s nemesis, Aaron Burr, is played by the exceptionally fine Brandon Victor Dixon replacing Leslie Odom Jr. The latter was steel cloaked in suavity, while Dixon is more severe in the opening number, which gives us both Hamilton’s back story and the seeds of a rivalry that will only conclude in a duel on the New Jersey shore many decades later. Delivering what is, to my mind, the show’s most astonishing number, “The Room Where It Happens,” Dixon’s another knockout.

The killer-comic dual roles of the Marquis de Lafayette and Thomas Jefferson, created by Tony winner Daveed Diggs, are now played by Tony winner James Monroe Igglehart [sic], who originated the Genie in the stage version of Aladdin. Where Diggs was sleek and carbonated with energy, Igglehart [sic] exudes a crafty jollity that’s irresistible in its own way, not so much playing to the audience as coercing us into abetting his antics. Lexi Lawson and Mandy Gonzalez have the formidable challenge of replacing Phillipa Soo and Renée Elise Goldsberry as Eliza and Angelica Schuyler, respectively, and they’re fully up to the task, singing gorgeously and plaintively. (I still wish someone would tell me what the hell happened to Peggy Schuyler, the Schuyler Sister Who Disappears, but that’s an old gripe.)

One extremely felicitous cast change is the return of Brian d’Arcy James as King George III. He created the role but had to leave while the show was still running at the Public to go into Something Rotten!. (He was replaced by Jonathan Groff and others.) Now he’s back and he’s great, especially in some deft interplay with Igglehart [sic] as Jefferson.

[…] this fourth visit to Hamilton allowed me to savor even more the truly astonishing work of director Thomas Kail and choreographer Andy Blankenbuehler (both Tony winners for the show, with Blankenbuehler repeating a few weeks ago for his choreography of Bandstand). Like Miranda’s score, which ranges restlessly from hip-hop to pop, blues to ballad to traditional Broadway belter, Hamilton itself is in constant motion, an organism whose multitude of parts (the company is fantastic) are seamlessly in synch in ways that just stop your breathing as one scene flows into the next, inventively, smartly, unexpectedly. That’s one of the things that makes Hamilton a truly great Broadway musical. But only one of them.

barelytherenotallhere  asked:

Prompt: chuck clayton vowed to get Betty back for what she did to him, so he decided to humiliate her by doing something to her cheer uniform in the middle of a big crowd, juggie helped her cover up by giving her his flannel shirt...

(This is rather angsty, I’m sorry!! Hope you like it, dear!!! Thank you for requesting! <3)

With hands hidden inside the pockets of his jeans and headphones adorning his neck as usual, Jughead made lazily his way to the central park of their small town, already detecting the hordes of people that filled the historic site from a corner away. Today was a big day for Riverdale.

Today marked the 60th anniversary of the foundation of Riverdale’s very famous and very beloved varsity team, their River Bulldogs, and the town had worn its best to celebrate its athletic stars. Like any other year at this date, every street and every shop were decorated with flags and posters and banners and shiny confetti, all in the colors of blue and gold. Bakers were selling lemon cupcakes with yellow frosting and blue sprinkles, Sheriff Keller was patrolling with only the blue lights flickering on top of his police car, even Pop’s had a special menu for the day, consisting of hotdogs and fries served in blue and yellow wrappers along with a blue raspberry milkshake. The peak of all these festivities was a huge gather around at Riverdale’s Central Park where music, food and dance lasted till the small hours. Yeah, their town was crazy just like that.  

Jughead could always remember himself slouching in a booth as Pop’s at such date, gloomy and grumpy at how ridiculous and pointless such fiestas were in his opinion. However, this year he could feel a tad of excitement run to his system, just like any other high schooler or resident of this town. It wasn’t because the event was a tad bigger this year – sixty years for some reason were a big deal – nor because Chuck Clayton and his gooneys’ squad wouldn’t be the guests of honor, bragging and sporting cocky grins like always – even though that was indeed very satisfying. It was because a certain blonde haired, blue eyed someone could barely hold back her own radiating thrill and wide smile this whole passed week.

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anonymous asked:

Headcanons/scenario (which one is easier) for Kyoutani, Oikawa and Iwaizumi as protective parents of reader and they come home with a "hickey" on their neck but later on turns out that it was just a accidental burn/bruise

Kyoutani Kentarou

  • Mad Dad Mode: Activated
  • He’s not sure what to do and ends up being conflicted with his emotions. On one hand he wants to yell at you and figure out where the hell did you get that, but then again the parenting book always said to approach things with an open mind. 
  • Before he even does anything he ends up consuming with your mom, whisper screaming as he explains what he saw on your neck. She sees your neck and realizes that that doesn’t look like a normal hickey. She would know, your dad is a biter.
  • “Dad, calm down. It’s not what you-”
  • “Who the hell was putting their nasty ass lips on my kid’s neck???”
  • Reasoning was not in his vocabulary at the moment. It took both you and your mom to scream that it was a burn before he falls silent, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. He ends up muttering a small apology before stalking back to his room. He overreacted.
  • Whew, you almost got grounded for five years.

Oikawa Tooru

  • Your dad almost cries when he sees your neck, wailing to your mom to come and see. She thought someone died with the way he was yelling.
  • He didn’t want to see his hold growing up so fast, but at the same time who was this person who thought they were worth enough to be doing such intimate activities with you.
  • Your mom was a bit shook too????
  • But upon close inspection she released that it was just a bruise in an odd spot. Like did you fall on the stairs an hit your neck????
  • Oikawa is so relieved to hear that it’s just a bruise and nothing more. Now he doesn’t have to go to some girl/boy’s house and interrogate them.

Iwaizumi Hajime

  • !!!!
  • Whoa, what the hell were you doing while you were out? He’s pretty sure neither himself or your mother would approve of this fuckery.
  • Iwaizumi goes to play bad cop, interrogating you until you spill the beans on what you were doing. Of course you’re stubborn as hell and refuse to break even though there’s nothing to hide.
  • You come into the kitchen to find him caging you in at the table with that scary look on his face that he uses when the dog does something bad. What did you do to invoke his wrath???
  • “Looks like ____’s boyfriend/girlfriend left them a nice little present.” 
  • And then both of your parents are zooming in on your neck like they are on fucking snapchat.
  • “Haji, that’s a burn. Not a hickey.”
  • Iwaizumi leans in so far to your neck like dad, do you need a magnifying glass too????
  • Once he’s satisfied that it is indeed not a love bite he finally sends you off to bed, before collapsing into the chair. He was hella worried for a second there.
valentine’s special, kuroo tetsurou flavoured confessions.

Where Kuroo is really sweet, and really, really not cool.

“So, uh, are you free today?”

Yeah,” you’re chuckling and Kuroo feels his heart rate calm down a little, “it’s only 8am, but yeah, I’m free today.”

“Okay. Good, good.” There’s an awkward pause, and then it’s just him breathing and you breathing and damn, the static in the receiver is actually pretty terrible. Maybe this is why Kenma always texts instead.

Speaking of Kenma, Kuroo casts a glance over at his best friend currently sprawled on his bed with an unimpressed look on his face. The judgement spreads like radiation and Kuroo’s face heats and flattens at the same time.

He clears his throat. “I’ll see you at noon.”

“Sounds good. Usual train station?”

“Ah- no, I’ll… I’ll come pick you up.”

There’s a suspicious pause and Kuroo holds his breath like an olympic swimmer.

“If you say so,” you finally reply, and he depressurizes with the finality of a pricked balloon. “Gonna go clean up. See you later!”

Tapping on the big red button to end the call, Kuroo sighs like his life depends on it. He rests his head between his legs and groans. “I kind of hate you right now, Kenma.”

The boy in question just snorts and executes a double combo in Monster Hunter. “You’re the one who’s been running away from this for the past month.”

“Yeah, and I’ll just keep running. Burn off some calories in the meantime.”

The tapping slows down a little and Kuroo’s ears prick up, waiting for whatever quip comes next at his expense. It’s eight in the morning, and waking up his buddy is like waking up a bear with a rooster, but slightly more dangerous, because he’s within arm’s reach.

Kenma puts his console down, and grips onto, for the first time in his life, Kuroo’s cheeks and peers right into those confused, golden eyes.

“Stop being an idiot. It’s Valentine’s Day, and this is Tokyo. If you don’t ask her, someone else will.”

Kuroo is quite bewildered indeed. Satisfied with rendering his friend speechless, Kenma gives a little nod and turns back to his game.

“…Isn’t that White Day-”

“Kuro, just shut up.”

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Sleeping With a Friend

Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition

Pairing: Dorian/Vax(Inquisitor)

Summery: Friends with benefits seemed like a good idea…at first. Things get a bit more complicated when Dorian catches feelings. Sera remains eternally unimpressed.

Note: Inspired by this song that @latefortevinter linked to me proving conclusively that we have a hive mind psychic connection.

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The world says: “You have needs – satisfy them. You have as much right as the rich and the mighty. Don’t hesitate to satisfy your needs; indeed, expand your needs and demand more.” This is the worldly doctrine of today. And they believe that this is freedom. The result for the rich is isolation and suicide, for the poor, envy and murder.
—  Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov 
=> Cronus: Rekindle.

[Prior to SGRUB, Aranea theorized the existence of phantom spirits. Even after death, she wanted to confirm the preexisting idea that the bubbles were only but a construct formed by the game versus any true aftermath of death. Perhaps double death was merely a fear that kept us from truly escaping the hells of the Furthest Ring, she mused. 

During high and mighty rambles, you’d walk away from the Serket as she blabbered at her booth. You had no reason to believe her, nor the idea to truly care.

However, you’ve discovered plenty of things during your second ghost phase; some important, some not. Some, proven.

Ghosts are real. 

Actual ghosts are real. ]

[None of this dream bubble shit counts for a pure phantom’s living arrangements. Ghosts were unsatisfied, ignored spirits, cold to the wispy touch with a hum over the horizons; they didn’t reach the afterlife until they were content with leaving. After that, well, who knows?

In the very least you were indeed never satisfied. Ignored. A fitting role.]

[You had many more questions, the expanse of what you had discovered only scratching the surface. Was this influenced by the game at all? Were there just trolls around here? How long could one remain unsatisfied? 

You wonder if your brown blooded friend was around; his angular shades among many Striders were never hard to miss. That, and you doubt he died satisfied with the raging presence of the dark wizard he had hoped to defeat within an army of many.

Hell, maybe he was alive. Maybe he was still trapped in the limbo of the game’s plane. Maybe. You prefer his status to be ambiguous but hopeful.

Unlike another.]

[You had hoped to find the second brown blood who’s disappearance you mourned pathetically. Maybe he was stuck in the limbo as well. Maybe he was truly, truly gone.

Fate was urged to be hopeful, but hell if you wanted an ambiguous conclusion.

Why did he had to leave so soon like the tease of your first kiss? Why did he have to leave you waiting as did the postponing of your eventual quading? Why did you suck so much shit at this whole “saving your pals” schtick?

Saving your mates when they needed you?

You’re still left wondering, as if your unanswered responses would eventually be answered with his missed presence. Maybe one night?]

[ Your eventual demise in the far future better be as welcoming, breath taking, and pacifying as when you first dropped to the floor in a cool wisp.

The euthanization would be too kind. ]

ADA Rafael Barba / Sublime Silence

Per Request HERE re: Rafi meeting someone because of their child.

Originally posted by justraulesparza

Please Note: I thought this was just precious and I definitely wanted to take a lil twist on this- so I urge everyone to remember, every child is different and beautiful even if they aren’t quite ‘by the books’ ;).

It wasn’t much of a defense, but in his defense, Rafael hadn’t been looking where he was walking. Also, most children would probably make a noise or say something if a grown man reading through a book was walking their direction, it wasn’t as if he were hard to miss.

Not this kid, though.
Which was why Rafael had absolutely no warning when he stumbled over him.

Unable to combat gravity in time, he landed on the colorful carpet that the library had laid out in the midst of the children’s section. He had been making his way towards the check out desk, but was reeling from the shock of having toppled over a small child. His fingers splayed out atop a red Indiana and a blue Tennessee, which was when he finally got a good look at the little road block he had run into.

“Hey, kid,” was that condescending? The little boy didn’t so much as look at him, was too busy methodically scooting himself and curling his legs back up so he could fit inside a yellow Nevada. Once satisfied, the child did indeed take a look his way, but very shyly went back to the I-Spy book he had been flipping through. “Kid- you okay?” Well now Rafael felt awful, he had nearly crushed a little human because he was too busy not paying attention and now he won’t even tell him he’s alright.

Quickly, the boy pressed his finger to his lips, and managed out an urgent “shh-shh-shhhhhhhhhh.” Rafael’s jaw dropped- he just got shushed by a toddler? He was just asking if he was hurt, there really wasn’t a need to be so rude.

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Movies, Pizza and Skeletons- Undertum doohicky.

A/N: Tahp o’ tha mornin’ to ya, my precious Soibeans! On a random note, I actually found a soy bean at work today, and so remembered I needed to feed my Tumblr more fanfiction. Here, have this fluffy, not-so-kinky-but-still-sorta Frans thing before I start the requests I’ve recieved! Thank you @dunkybritscuit​ for reminding me that we need more fluff and less smut with those two.

Story under the cut, because we don’t want a poor soul to accidentally read this and freak out lol.
WARNING! Tummy appreciation, stuffing, feeding and of course, a sprinkling of burps and what have you.

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anonymous asked:

Honestly I've seen this episode like three times and I still can't believe these shitty NEETs were like "honestly Dad why are you putting all the blame on Mom, maybe there are issues on your end?" I can't believe that this episode kinda sorta implies that if any of these brats got their shit together enough to get a lover they'd do right by them? I have never been more surprised or proud.

Not to get too meta but I think this episode really sums up exactly what makes the matsubros, characters explicitly introduced and written to be romantically unappealing, REALLY popular with a female fanbase, and that’s the fact that 90% of their shortcomings are due to a lack of experience and opportunitues to grow. It feeds in to romantic tropes about “fixing” or “reforming” an unworthy partner in to an ideal one by demonstrating their capacity to be good partners, while also making their major turn-offs some variation of finny, pitiable, or relatable, but above all fixable.

Yes, they’re relentlessly horny and stupid, but they’re also 1. Shy and unintimidating, 2. Desperate to the point of humility and gratitude regarding any female attention and 3. Explicitly desperate for a ROMANTIC relationship, not just a sexual one. That was the whole point of the “virgin heart” sequence of the episode. But the most important thing the episode highlights is: The USUAL pitfall of their character type–the rejected male virgin– is an underlying sense of entitlement and resentment, but this is something the self-depriciating matsubros explicitly lack, and the first thing they identify as a problem with their father’s behavior.

In a way it wasn’t actually that surprising? I might even go so far as to say it proves the writers have grasped what we love about the brothers and why, and they’re monopolizing on it. But it was indeed very satisfying and explicit proof that these boys have the capacity to grow and mature in to good partners. Some day. Eventually.

Sticks and Stones - Chapter 1

Anonymous said: this would go so perfect with lokane - “Do you think you could just please go one day without pissing me off?” 

For you, anonymous, I present the first part of the abomination you have birthed - a Frankenstein’s monster of human AU and university AU with a heavy nod to The Hating Game.

Enjoy reaping what you have sown. Look forward to the next chapter soon.

Click click. Clack.

The soundtrack of hell was not the screams of the damned, Jane Foster suspected. It was the clattering staccato of a keyboard being tortured.

Clack clack. Click.

Lips thinning with annoyance, she dared a glance across the table over the top of her monitor and met frosty green eyes that held a glint of sordid amusement, the typing only growing louder as she drew in a long breath through her nose.

Fantastic. Today was a Staring Day. Which meant it was also an Irritate Jane (More Than Usual) Day, which meant she didn’t even dare ask Loki Laufeyson to restrain his troglodyte smashing of the hapless computer. The last time she had, she’d come in the next day to find he’d swapped all of the existing keyboards in the lab with some antiquated, horrifically loud mechanical ones he’d dug out from somewhere.

A time machine, perhaps. He’d literally gone back to 1997 just to aggravate her with noisy plastic rectangles of discord. She wouldn’t put it past him.

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Eternally Yours Part 2

Tag list beauties:
@rabidwrestlingfan @zacksabre @dorkyvillain @fluffyhales @mrsmandrews@wildandfreepinkv0dka @laochbaineann @pandoorii @gallifrayliveson @wrestlingnoob @rollinsdar @fuzzyslipperz @awkward-walking-potato @somehow-lovable-trash @baeckyshorsewomen @alexahood21 @squirrel666 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @codchrist @baleesi @obeyxbrookes @cam0flug3 @shadow-of-wonder @finish-her

Part 1


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Thinking About You

Prompt: Masturbation

Rating: M (NSFW)

The thought of her made him want to touch himself.

Every time he thought about Lucy, he couldn’t help but grin.

Okay, most of the time. There was like a one percent when he was worried or some other negative emotion. But, most of the time being around her was like slipping into a warm bubble bath.

She was a massage after a long day of training. Lucy was that feeling of satisfaction just before passing the limit of what he could eat.

She was like a balm to a burn…not that he knew what being burned felt like; he assumed it was painful.

But, he was starting to. 

She was starting to burn him with every smile and every look is way. When she tossed golden locks over her shoulders, he felt the sizzle in his fingers. As she got excited over a novel idea, he got excited with the heat in his chest.

When she cried, it was like he was boiling himself from within. Lucy had the full capacity to make him burn for her.

Which is why he wasn’t ashamed to touch himself while thinking about her.

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I don’t even care if finnrey is romantic or not, TFA has made it indisputable that they have each become the most important person in the other’s life, the person each will lay down their life for, the person who helped them begin to heal from a lifetime of trauma. Their love destroyed Starkiller Base and defeated Kylo Ren. Their love literally saved the galaxy.

That is the kind of life-changing relationship that Hollywood and society like to reserve for romantic partners, and their interactions were very romantically coded, making a romantic relationship natural and satisfying. Indeed it would be very very suspicious if all of a sudden, this one time, such a soul-deep connection turns out not to be romantic. This is why calling finnrey “brotp” is usually dismissive of their relationship, and why saying they have “no chemistry” is laughable.

But really? Were it not for the history of romance-worship and racism? Whether romantic or not, that kind of connection doesn’t go away even if Finn and Rey don’t date each other. Say Rey is aromantic and Finn falls in love with Rose or Poe. Rey and Finn will still be each other’s first priority and any romantic partner will have to accept that, or the relationship just won’t work out.

TFA has inextricably linked Finn and Rey’s narratives, and any future developments that downplay this connection will be undermining the franchise for deeply suspect reasons.

Anne Lister’s Diary--All the Best Bits

Anne Lister was born in 1791 in Halifax, West Yorkshire. She was a lesbian–that is, her romantic and sexual relationships were exclusively with women. On 29 January, 1821, she wrote, “I love & only love, the fairer sex & thus beloved by them in turn, my heart revolts from any other love than theirs.” Her most important relationships with women were with Isabella Norcliffe and Mariana Lawton, but she also had several more casual sexual relationships, which are chronicled in her diaries. She had a younger sister and one brother who lived to adulthood, but his death in 1813 left Anne as the heir to Shibden Hall, where she went to live with her aunt and uncle in 1815. The Listers were the only land-owning family in the neighborhood and Anne was a bit of a snob about this; she visited the neighbors but often wrote in the diaries that she wished she had friends who were more her equal (socially or intellectually or both). One neighboring woman, Ann Walker, did eventually live at Shibden as Anne Lister’s wife. This was known in the neighborhood and they seem to have been quite frank about the nature of this relationship. They traveled together; Anne climbed mountains and lived in France; she studied French and Greek; she ran her estate. According to Wikipedia Ann Walker took control of the Shibden estate after Anne Lister’s death.

Anne Lister was considered somewhat eccentric and masculine–from what she writes in the diaries I gather her voice, facial features, and body type were all considered masculine. From the way she writes about it she seems to have cast herself as a husband and considered Mariana Lawton (for example) her wife. Mariana called her Fred or Freddy; working class locals in Halifax called her Gentleman Jack. It would be impossible to assess what Anne Lister’s relationship to gender would be in modern terms, but I’ve extracted some passages from her diaries which I think give some clues to her relationship to her gender, body, and sexuality. Also I picked out the sexy bits, because really.

The passages in italics are those written in the code she used to write about sex, relationships, and (for whatever reason) clothing. She also wrote letters to Mariana Lawton in the code, which she called “crypt.” The code was made up of Greek letters and other symbols. Anne Lister died in 1840 while traveling in Russia; John Lister, the last member of Anne’s family to live in Shibden Hall, cracked the code in 1887. He was shocked by the contents of the diaries, but being a lovely, historically-minded gentleman, he resisted advice to burn them and instead hid them behind a wall panel at Shibden. After his death in 1933 Shibden and its contents became the property of the city of Halifax. The town clerk wrote to Arthur Burrell, who had helped John Lister crack the code and advised burning the diaries, and Burrell reluctantly gave a key to the code to Halifax’s librarian. The key was locked in a safe. The librarian’s daughter, Muriel Green, was given the job of cataloguing the documents acquired from Shibden Hall. She wrote a dissertation about Anne Lister’s letters and was aware of the details about Anne’s sex life contained in the diaries, but though she and others continued to work with and write about Anne Lister’s documents, Anne’s sexuality was not public knowledge until the excellent Helena Whitbread began to transcribe the diaries in the 1980s. All of this information is borrowed with enormous thanks from Helena Whitbread’s introduction to The Secret Diaries of Miss Anne Lister.

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Scorpio Gift & Curse


Gift: To have passion, it involves a deep emotion for something or someone. Passion makes you want it more. It makes you want do more to see a satisfying outcome. You are indeed a rare type that knows what you want and are not afraid to go after it. Your passion allows you to not only examine qualities in yourself but carves out the desirables in others too.

Curse: Your passionate side can also make you act a little crazy (just being honest). When your heart is really involved in something, it becomes a bit of a fascination that can play many mind tricks – possessiveness, aggressiveness, temperamental, jealous, a bit paranoid – any of these sound familiar?

The world says: “You have needs – satisfy them. You have as much right as the rich and the mighty. Don’t hesitate to satisfy your needs; indeed, expand your needs and demand more.” This is the worldly doctrine of today. And they believe that this is freedom. The result for the rich is isolation and suicide, for the poor, envy and murder. Obedience, fasting, and prayer are laughed at, yet only through them lies the way to real true freedom. I cut off my superfluous and unnecessary desires, I subdue my proud and wanton will and chastise it with obedience, and with God’s help I attain freedom of spirit and with it spiritual joy.
—  The Karamazov Brothers, Dostoevsky