#sex caen

[deepinsideyourbeing]

Solstice Tales - I. Car Sex (Enzo Vogrincic)

La luna llena baña el paisaje con una tenue luz plateada mientras las luces del tablero proyectan un resplandor suave y cálido dentro del vehículo. Enzo insistió en conducir, escogió el destino –un sitio desértico cerca de la carretera- y también la música (típico).

Llevan una eternidad repitiendo las mismas canciones de Radiohead cuando voltea a verte con una sonrisa. Están ocupando el asiento trasero y hasta el momento Enzo observaba el cielo nocturno a través del cristal.

-No- suplicás cuando escuchás esa línea específica de All I Need-. La metáfora de la polilla otra vez no.

Tu reacción de pánico lo hace reír a carcajadas.

-¿Qué tiene de malo?- pregunta mirándote a los ojos mientras juega con tu suéter. Cuando intentás cubrir su boca, consciente de sus intenciones, captura tus muñecas con una mano y luego desliza sus dedos por tu cabello-. Sos muy linda, ¿sabés?

Dejás escapar una risa nerviosa y observás el paisaje del otro lado del parabrisas por un momento. Es tarde, el cielo está repleto de estrellas que titilan, el silencio del lugar sólo se ve interrumpido por la conversación y la música, mientras ustedes repiten por milésima vez una tradición que todavía se siente nueva.

Querés decirle que su metáfora en realidad te fascina.

-No tiene nada de malo- es todo lo que lográs formular-. Me hacés dar una re bronca.

Otra carcajada endulza tus oidos.

-¿Por qué?

-Porque nunca se me ocurre nada que supere esa metáfora- confesás-. Y vos sos lindo.

Es su turno de desviar la mirada, tímido como de costumbre, vulnerable, pero mientras evita tus ojos entrelaza sus dedos con los tuyos. Permanecen en silencio durante un largo rato, cómodos con la ausencia de palabras, disfrutando de oír las mismas canciones en loop.

Cuando vuelve a mirarte lo sorprendés inclinándote más cerca, recostando tu frente contra la suya y cerrando los ojos, gesto que él imita para permitirse sentir más y mejor la cercanía entre sus cuerpos. El calor de su respiración golpeando tus labios es tentador y un suspiro escapa de tu boca.

En un rápido movimiento te deja sobre su regazo y sujeta tu rostro entre sus manos en busca de una señal de consentimiento. En lugar de contestarle con palabras optás por dejarte caer por completo sobre su cuerpo. No es suficiente.

-¿Querés?- pregunta en un susurro-. ¿Sí o no?

-Obvio que quiero- contestás y comenzás a frotarte contra él. Buscás su boca y mordés su labio inferior hasta que emite un corto y patético gemido de protesta-. ¿Hace cuánto estás así?

-Desde que llegamos.

La escasa iluminación basta para ver que sus pupilas están dilatadas y cuando sujetás su cabello entre tus dedos, tirando cada vez más, sus párpados pesados por el placer caen en contra de su voluntad. Intentás no dejarte llevar por la placentera sensación entre tus piernas para poder ver todas sus expresiones.

Es imposible continuar con tu acto de poder una vez que sentís sus dedos cerrándose sobre tu cuello, sujetándote con más fuerza de la necesaria para impedir que rompas el contacto visual, mientras guía tus movimientos con su mano en tu cadera.

-¿Sentís?- pregunta contra tu boca luego de escucharte gemir. Libera tu cuello para poder manipular tu cuerpo con ambas manos y vuelve a moverte contra su palpitante erección todavía oculta por su ropa-. ¿Sentís lo que me hacés?

Buscás tu habitual refugio en la unión de su cuello y su hombro. Besás su clavícula, lo mordés en un intento de silenciar tus gemidos y luego deslizás tu lengua sobre su piel irritada, provocándolo cada vez más.

La humedad en tu centro es imposible de ignorar. ¿Es suya? ¿Tuya? Pensar que es la mezcla de los dos te hace sollozar contra su cuello y empujarte más, más y más, hasta que la distancia separándolos es inexistente.

Enzo juega con tus pezones, más sensibles de lo usual, mientras te permite utilizarlo para tu placer. Tu espalda se arquea en busca de más, pero luego de unos segundos rechazás el contacto y cuando pregunta silenciosamente negás, sin palabras.

-¿Te duele?

-No- besás la comisura de sus labios-. Quiero...

Una expresión de orgullo se dibuja en su rostro.

-¿Qué? ¿Querés que te la meta?- su voz es ronca y sus dedos se deslizan bajo tu falda para mover tu ropa interior-. ¿Por eso te vestiste así con el frío hace? ¿Tan desesperada estabas?

Querés golpearlo, objetar, burlarte de su propia desesperación, pero cuando desliza su punta entre tus pliegues y presiona contra tu entrada tu respiración se corta. Sólo jadeás en respuesta y clavás tus uñas en sus hombros.

Controla la velocidad de la penetración, más que consciente de la falta de preparación, pero vos disfrutás del dolor que su tamaño provoca en tu entrada. Sentís la prominente vena que recorre su extensión y cada centímetro dentro tuyo hace que un nuevo escalofrío sacuda tu cuerpo.

Vuelve a tomar tu rostro entre sus manos y cuando correspondés su mirada ve en tus pupilas que la coherencia en tu mente es cada vez menor. Besa la lágrima que se desliza por tu mejilla y se relame los labios.

La música es cada vez más lejana.

-Sos hermosa- mueve tus caderas y tu rostro se contrae en una expresión de placer-. Y toda mía, ¿no?

[sabinerondissime]

Journal

Il y a 20 ans, tout commençait entre nous. Nous nous sommes connus sur un site de discussion, comme il y en avait beaucoup au début des années 2000. J'étais en vacances dans le sud et nous avons dialogué jusqu'à mon retour en Normandie. Mon divorce venait tout juste d'être prononcé. Nous nous sommes rencontrés au début du mois d'aout et cela a tout de suite fonctionné entre nous. Mais ce mois ci, il y avait les jeux olympiques et ta passion pour le sport est passé avant ton envie de me voir. Vexée, je t'ai dis que je préférais qu'on en reste là. Le 29 aout, tu m'as envoyé un message pour me souhaiter ma fête et le dialogue a reprit. Tu es venu me voir le 6 septembre et nous ne nous sommes plus jamais quitté. Les premiers mois ont été superbes. Nous sortions beaucoup, tu m'emmenais faire des choses que je n'avais jamais faites comme voir un concert d'artiste que je ne connaissais pas (Mes souliers sont rouges) aller à La nuit du Zapping au Zenith de Caen, ou voir des matchs de Hockey sur glace. Nous aimons les choses simples alors nous faisions des pique niques en bord de mer, avec juste du pain et du camembert. Nous allions aussi dans pas mal de restaurant découvrir la cuisine du monde. Et comme je vivais toujours sous le même toit que mon ex-mari, nous allions dormir à l'hotel régulièrement. Tu prévoyais toujours une surprise. Un soir, je suis arrivée après toi et tu avais pavé le couloir de l'hotel de pétales de roses, jusqu'à la chambre ou je devais te retrouver. Quelques mois plus tard, j'ai emménagé dans ta ville, dans la même rue. Mais comme mes 3 enfants vivaient avec moi et que toi, tu n'avais jamais eu d'enfant, nous avons préféré garder chacun notre appartement au cas où. En 2007, nous avons eu notre fils mais nous avons tout de même conserver nos appartements. La naissance de notre fils a changé beaucoup de chose dans notre couple et 3 ans plus tard, afin d'éviter la rupture, nous avons pris la décision de nous laisser la liberté de vivre d'autres choses. Nous avons vécu ainsi quelques années. En 2020, mes 3 premiers enfants étant partis de la maison et le confinement arrivant, tu es venu t'installer chez moi. Nous avons continuer à faire chambre à part. De toute façon, il y avait déjà quelques années qu'il n'y avait plus de relation sexuelles entre nous. Nous sommes des amis, des parents mais plus des amants et probablement plus des amoureux. Nous aimons la façon de vivre de l'autre, le calme, la tranquillité et l'âge venant, nous avons décidé de nous marier, pour mettre à l'abri celui de nous deux qui restera en vie le plus longtemps. Demain, je porterai ton nom. Même si nous sommes très différents dans nos gouts et nos passions, nous en avons une qui nous lie depuis près de 18 ans, notre fils ! Je sais, parce que tu me l'a prouvé, qu'en cas de coup dur, mes enfants et moi nous pouvons compter sur toi. Désormais, nous avons un petit-fils qui, m��me s'il est le fils de mon fils t'appelle Papi et se moque bien qu'il n'y ait pas de lien du sang entre vous. Alors oui, il me manque la tendresse, la passion, l'amour, les mots doux, les compliments, les câlins, la sensualité, le sexe, la séduction, les projets, les voyages à deux et tout ce qui se rattache au sentiment amoureux. Mais je sais à quel point les sentiments sont éphémères. On dit "Marriage plus vieux (et non pas pluvieux) mariage heureux" parce que justement, on a souvent fait une croix sur la folie de la passion que recherche encore les plus jeunes. Ce qui est important désormais, c'est la stabilité et la confiance et cela, tu me l'apporte jour après jour depuis 20 ans. Merci d'avoir pris soins de moi et de mes enfants. Merci d'être l'homme que tu es, avec tes qualités et tes défauts. Demain, ce sera OUI, pour le meilleur et pour le pire, jusqu'à ce que la mort nous sépare.

[deathlessathanasia]

Is there any myth involving Caeneus and Hermaphroditus that doesn't have them being SA'd or does all the GNC rep in Greek myth involve sexual assault. If so, why?

According to a fragment of Acusilaus of Argos, possibly the first attestation of the idea that Caeneus was born female, Poseidon had sex with a woman (here named Caene) and then transformed her into a man because she didn't want, or couldn't, or wasn't allowed to have children by anyone. As is often the case in mythographic works, no details are provided as concerns the sexual encounter so it's up to interpretation.

According to Diodorus Siculus' Library of History 4.6.5 Hermaphroditus was born "with a physical body which is a combination of that of a man and that of a woman, in that he has a body which is beautiful and delicate like that of a woman, but has the masculine quality and vigour of a man.", no mention of sexual assault here.

[whatevergreen]

“You Can Have Fun Too” poster, created by Mick Hicks for SFAF, 1984

"In 1984, Rick Crane, director of the (San Francisco AIDS Foundation) at the time, hired famed local photographer Mick Hicks to photograph two men for a safe-sex poster to be put in the city’s gay bars, baths, and other locations. Hicks worked for virtually all the LGBTQ newspapers in the Bay Area and had spent a year and a half photographing people with AIDS, chronicling their struggle with the disease. He quickly accepted the commission.

At the same time, a young Black man named Robert Gray, a native San Franciscan raised in the Bayview Hunter’s Point area of the city, and a proud sixth-generation descendant of the Georgetown 272 (a group of 272 African slaves who were sold, in 1838 by the Jesuit priests who ran George University to keep the school afloat), was rather well known in the Castro and Tenderloin areas. “I had started meeting and dating guys in my junior year in high school,” he told me. “I went to high school four or five blocks from the Castro. I would find my way up through the bar scene during that time, sneaking into gay bars and discos.” Of course, he realized that AIDS was rampant through the city.

One day, as 24-year-old Robert wandered down Castro Street, a man approached him and asked if he would pose for a photo for a safe-sex poster for San Francisco AIDS Foundation. “The gentleman advised me that a young photographer named Mick Hicks was looking for two subjects, one Black male and one white male, for the poster. Having seen so many of my personal friends succumb to this deadly virus, I felt it was something I needed to do to help stop the spread of this horrific disease. I asked myself, ‘Why not?’ With AIDS affecting so many of my gay brothers and sisters, I felt it was my responsibility to do something to contribute to AIDS awareness and prevention. I needed to take action, whatever I could do to be a voice of action and help my community.” He agreed on the spot to do the poster.

“You Can Have Fun (and be safe too)” read the final poster. The image that Hicks created featured Robert, shot from the back, embracing a white model (Hicks’ partner Nick Cuccia), his white arm and bubble-butt standing out prominently against Robert’s skin. Even the Chronicle columnist Herb Caen took notice of the photo. The sex-positive message of the poster advocated “mutual masturbation,” “erotic massage,” “imagination and fantasies,” and “limiting social drugs.” The poster portrayed and promoted gay sex as normal, expected behavior, and emphasized the pleasure that could be had while still protecting oneself against transmission of the virus. The poster caused a huge sensation and started appearing in gay bars, discos, and bathhouses from San Francisco to New York. Mr. Gray told me, “As the young kids would say today, ‘it went viral,’ no pun intended!”

(Castro, San Francisco postcard, 1984)

Regrettably, the poster also launched a two-pronged backlash, one prong based in religious prudery, the other in racism.

By asserting that gay sex could be both fun and safe, the poster was the first to portray gay sex as normal, healthy, and fun. Even before AIDS, gay sex had been viewed as aberrant, “unnatural.” As an offshoot of that prejudice, AIDS was thought by many as a visitation of the wrath of God on immoral men who were violating God’s law. How many times did we hear in the early 1980s, “At least AIDS is killing all the right people”? The poster’s sex-positive message was condemned as an affront to decency and family values.

Even more lamentably, the poster inadvertently shone a light on the racial animus within San Francisco’s gay community. As Rick Crane told the Bay Area Reporter in 2014, “Gays as a group were considered second-class citizens and, ironically, gays themselves were treating gay blacks the same way — as second-class citizens.” Although racial tensions had eased somewhat from the flashpoints of the ‘60s and ‘70s, there was still a clear racial divide in the bars in the Castro. The Pendulum was the Castro’s only gay bar where black men and white men went comfortably to meet; the other Castro bars catered primarily to whites. The Trap, located in the Tenderloin district, also catered to interracial couples. Thus, some of the bars and other establishments refused to display the poster, deeming it “unacceptable.” Regarding the response to the poster, Gray said, “I would go into bars, and I would hear the chatter amongst people about the poster. I heard some really positive things, but also some really negative, racially motivated things.

(Below: "Thyrell And Chris Outside The Pendulum Bar SF", 1986 by Jim James aka Photojimsf)

“At the time that I did the poster,” he continued, “I had no idea that it would be so controversial. Honestly, had I known this upfront, I might not have done it. But looking back on it now, I would do it again because it was the right thing to do.” But still, he laments, “Who would have thought that a photo would open my eyes to the racism within the gay community? We are so much more alike as a people than different. One would think we could get along better and come together for a cause greater than us individually. Being a proud Black gay man, I must fight harder than most for myself and for those who come after me.”

These days, Robert Gray is still that proud Black gay man who changed the face of safe-sex advocacy. Sixty-two years old now, nearly forty years since he posed for the SFAF poster, he is semi-retired and lives in Vallejo, California. He is now a widower, having lost his partner of 42 years (his husband since 2013). He remains quite proud of the poster to this day, even if that pride is somewhat tempered by what he considers a lack of recognition for his work. “I thought over time I would see the poster in the gay pride parades or that I would be given some special honor from major players in the movement, like GLAAD. There is still a lot of racism in the gay community.”

Adapted from a February 18, 2022 article by Hank Trout:

https://www.sfaf.org/collections/status/why-did-a-safe-sex-poster-spark-controversy-in-1984/

[sea-changed]

"A fundamental contradiction characterized the Allied mission [in France]: the GIs were to both conquer and liberate, demolish and reconstruct. As one journalist said of the civilians in Caen, 'their liberators are also destroyers.' In this part of France, anger, fear, and loss stripped the moment of its bliss. Liberation was a harrowing experience in which happiness had to share the heart with sorrow. Putting Franco-American relations at the center of the story revises our understanding of the costs paid in the Norman campaign. The Americans did not have a monopoly on suffering, nor did they fight alone."

Mary Louise Roberts, What Soldiers Do: Sex and the American GI in World War II France (2013). Emphasis mine.

[whocookedthelastsupper]

“Yet by a bizarre and limiting paradox, the emphasis on women's duty of procreation carries no connotations of female sexuality. As women were denied any full part in the process of reproduction, so they were likewise denied any pleasure of participation in the act. In fact, the less they knew about sex, the better, decreed their fathers and keepers; and thus in another reversal of the old mother-centered ways of thought, the highest value shifted from adult womanhood and the pride of fecundity to maiden ignorance. Now the child-bride, the unspoiled female, not-yet-woman, became the finest type; and a small film of atavistic membrane, the hymen, casually deposited by evolution in the recess of every woman's body, was discovered to be her prize possession. Virginity came in with a vengeance as every budding patriarch suddenly realized his divine right to a vacuum-sealed, factory-fresh vagina with built-in hymenal gift-wrapping and purity guarantee.

So powerful was this fetish of virginity that a new ideal gathered momentum, that of preserving it in perpetuity. One early Christian father, St. Jerome, was active in persuading fathers to dedicate their daughters to nunneries at birth, while another, st. Martin of Tours, constantly compared the "pure ungrazed field of virginity" to "the field of marriage torn up by the pigs and cattle of fornication." As this shows, the Christian church had from its origins a particular problem with women's sexuality: "to embrace a woman" wrote Odo of Cluny in the twelfth century, "is to embrace a sack of manure." The "sack of manure" metaphor for women's bodies was an obsession with the early Christians: "If a woman's bowels were cut open," pronounced the monk Roger de Caen, "you would see what filth is covered by her white skin. If a fine crimson cloth covered a pile of foul dung, would anyone be foolish enough to love the dung because of it?"

Yet Christ was born of woman. The solution to this embarrassment was found only after protracted doctrinal councils, when the gruesome hilarity of debating how the divine seed could penetrate the Virgin's hymen, or how Christ could have emerged from her uterus without rupturing the said hymen with his sacred infant head, appears to have gone unnoticed. But one thing was clear. Our Lord, the Son of God, the Redeemer of Man, could not have been born from a sack of shit. The Christian fathers had to protect Mary's purity in order e protect his. The Blessed Virgin Mary, it was decreed, remained a virgin not only before the birth of Christ, but afterward as well. She was unravaged by the bloody mess and pain of childbirth; He was hermetically sealed off from any contact with her filthy and disgusting innards. Nor was this merely a Christian perversion. The compulsive drive of the patriarch not simply to occupy and possess a pure and unspotted vagina but also to emerge from one may be demonstrated from the fact that in addition to Jesus, Buddha, Plato, Quetzalcoatl, Montezuma and Ghenghis Khan all claimed to be virgin-born.

With womanhood reduced to its most immature aspect, man therefore saddles himself with the problem of her regulation and con-trol. What this boils down to, in every case, is a withdrawal of the previous freedoms of adult women, which then traps them in a permanently arrested state of adolescent dependency and as such fulfills all the prescriptions of the patriarch.”

-Rosalind Miles; Who Cooked The Last Supper? The Women’s History of the World

[amaretheon]

The Gods are LGBTQ Supportive.

Poseidon and Nerites: On The Nature of Animals, 14.28 "Other stories say that Nerites was loved by Poseidon and loved Poseidon in return, and hence this was the origin of Anteros.And so, as I hear, Nerites spent time with Poseidon and when Poseidon drove his chariot above the waves his speed surpassed all the marine beasts, for the fish, dolphins, and tritons rose from the sea, excited and circling and dancing around, all stopped and were left behind.Truly, Nerites was always near, attending him. The waves submitted with reverence for Poseidon, the sea separating and withdrawing. Because Poseidon wished, the beautiful Nerites to be prominent for many reasons, among them swimming."

Nerites’ sisters begged the god Poseidon to change him back, and he obliged. The mighty sea god was smitten from the sight of the boy, and he offered to make him his charioteer. Nerites agreed, and Aelian says they lived together happily ever after as companions and lovers, even mentioning that the word for mutual, requited love – anteros – derives from Poseidon and Nerites’ love affair.

Poseidon and Caenis--Caeneus was originally a woman named Caenis who was transformed into a man[6][7] by the sea-god Poseidon.[8] According to the Greek mythographer Apollodorus, and a scholiast on the Iliad, Poseidon had sex with her, and afterward she asked him to turn her into an invincible man; Poseidon granted her wish.[9][10] According to Acusilaus, whose version is the earliest surviving, Caenis (here spelled Καινή, Caene), after having sex with him, asked Poseidon to turn her into a man so that she would not bear his child, or anyone else's.[11][12] In another version, Poseidon wished to sleep with her, but Caenis made him promise her a favour in exchange for hers; he did, and she asked to be transformed into a man, whereupon he granted her wish, but due to her change he failed to fulfill his own

Poseidon and Pelops-According to Pindar's First Olympian Ode, Pelops, the king of Pisa, once shared "Aphrodite's sweet gifts" with the ocean god himself. Pelops for a time was taken to Olympus by Poseidon and trained to drive the divine chariot.

Zeus and Ganymede the cup-bearing god of homosexuality.

Apollyon and his various male lovers: Admetus, Branchus, Carnus, Cinyras, Cyparrissus, Hyacinth, etc. Apollo was also lover to Macedonian Prince Hyakinthos, who died catching a thrown discus, then turned by the god into the hyacinth flower. The Pseudo-Apollodorus also said Apollo had been with Thracian singer Thamyris in the first man-on-man relationship in history. And for those who think same-sex nuptials are a 21st-century invention, Apollo also was in a relationship with Hymen, the god of marriage

Chin and Xochopili the Mayan/Aztec gods of Homosexuality.

Hermes- The wing-heeled messenger of the gods was said in multiple myths to have male lovers. In a variation of the Hyacinth myth, it was Hermes' lover Crocus who was killed by a discus thrown by a god before being turned into a flower. Some myths suggest a romantic relationship between Hermes and the hero Perseus. And while some stories list Daphnis, the inventor of pastoral poetry, as the son of Hermes, other sources claim him to be the god of speed's favorite lover.

Dionysus- Best known as the Greek god of wine, Dionysus was also the god of intersex and transgender people. Male lovers of the god included the satyr Ampelos and the famously handsome Adonis. He also once made a journey to Hades and was guided by the shepherd Prosymnus, who led the way in exchange for the chance to make love to the party god. When Prosymnus died before that deal would be consummated, the god created a wood phallus to ritually fulfill the promise, according to research by a number of Christian historians, including Hyginus and Arnobius.

"Perhaps the earliest literary reference to an intersex person concerns this child of Hermes and love goddess Aphrodite who as a youth encountered the nymph Salmacis, who attempted to seduce the youth and asked the gods that their forms be permanently joined. The creature of both sexes was frequently depicted in classical art as a figure with womanly breasts and form but with male genitalia. Above: Francois Joseph Navez, The Nymph Salmacis and Hermaphroditus."

"Twin sister to Apollo, the goddess was by differing accounts a nearly asexual virgin or a lesbian with many nymph lovers, including Cyrene, Atalanta, and Anticleia as well as moon goddess Dictynna. By some accounts, she was Callisto's lover before the nymph was raped by Zeus. Researcher Johanna Hypatia-Cybelaia writes that lesbian and gay devotees worshipped her as Artemis Orthia, and that lesbian port Pamphilia referred to the goddess in hymn as Artemis Pergaea."

Heru/Horus and Set/Seth

While the goddess of love is not identified prominently as lesbian herself, the Greek poet Sappho (as in sapphic) of Lesbos (yes, as in lesbian) told many homoerotic tales and named Aphrodite as the greatest patron and ally of lesbians and homosexuals within the Greek pantheon of gods.

The Egyptian goddess Isis/Aset/Auset, also worshipped by Greeks, is known for solving a gender identity issue of yore. Iphis was born female but raised male by his mother, who concealed the truth because her husband wanted a male heir. Ultimately, Iphis fell in love with Ianthe, a woman, and was betrothed to her. Before the wedding, Iphis prayed in the Temple of Isis for a solution, and voila! she became a he.

[ivanreycristo]

Lo de la VOZ de un DEMONIO y su SILENCIO ante CATACLISMOS en EL APOCALIPSIS DE UN MUNDO INFERNAL Y SOBREEXPLOTADO mientras caen como MOSCAS me parece MAS Q COBARDE Y MISERABLE, ALGO ABSURDO=JOHN [lennon] AND ELVIS ARE DEAD [BUT CHRIST IS ALIVE] del cd PACIENCIA DEL MALOGRADO GEORGE MICHAEL [fallecido NAVIDAD de 2016 tras lanzarse en solitario con el SINGLE I WANT YOUR SEX del cd FAITH]:

He said, "If Jesus Christ is alive and well

Then how come John and Elvis are dead?"

[xecat]

more sims 3 ok 👍

sim caen had sex then immediately lost nerd influence. hes not a virgin so the nerds r disowning him. sad!

[bnavmo]

conociéndome

un ángel guardián en medio de un sueño me despertó

si sabía que pasaba después de la muerte me preguntó

y yo le dije, es una nueva etapa, un nuevo renacer

y me dijo, la vida aquí es una escuela para aprender

las vibraciones dentro de mi boca

en la disco, teniendo una noche loca

cada uno al final sabe lo que le toca

dicen que la intuición no se equivoca

diamantes blancos y polvos escarchados

con los oídos aturdidos y los ojos cegados

en medio del humo, nuestros sesos retumban extasiados

brillando como cometas, bailando eternamente enamorados

bésame, tócame y marca tu territorio

sujétame de las manos en el purgatorio

y deja la música sonar libre en aleatorio

hagamos realidad de este arte ilusorio

me cuidas, te cuido y nos cuidamos

del mundo y los problemas nos olvidamos

y desde hace años que no sé lo que es sentir celos

pero contigo, del rostro y del cuerpo me quito los velos

aprecio la nostalgia, pero no soy una persona triste

cargo una luz que nunca se apaga, que siempre persiste

sé que te enamoraste de mí desde la primera vez que me viste

pero bebé, no me gusta acelerar las cosas, así que aguántame, resiste

if you know me-nada me da vergüenza y nada me da pena

pero la indecisión y la escasa vulnerabilidad me resaltan la vena

over confident and hyper independent

but i'm not love-and-praise dependent

excéntrico como los tonos variantes del atardecer

sin temor al vacío, a las emociones y al volver a caer

cool, mysterious and different from the rest

pleasure in life, in love, in death and in sex

las miradas me caen encima como la lluvia

soy bien clever, aunque a veces me hago la rubia

yo no soy de rogar, yo soy más de atraer

por eso sólo bendiciones llegan a mi ser

Interpretation:

The poem explores themes of duality and transformation, weaving together spirituality, hedonism, and self-discovery. It begins with a profound dialogue between the speaker and a guardian angel, framing life as a school for learning and death as a rebirth. This spiritual lens sets the stage for the exploration of human experience, as the poem shifts to a nightclub scene filled with vibrant imagery of music, sensuality, and indulgence. Here, the speaker’s journey balances the spiritual with the material, contrasting introspection with the chaotic beauty of the physical world, including the allure of drugs and sex as tools of both escapism and connection.

Drugs and sensory overload feature prominently, symbolizing the tension between transcendence and destruction. Lines about “white diamonds,” “frosted powders,” and “brains pounding ecstatically” suggest a euphoric yet fleeting escape, where physical sensations dominate but also hint at existential longing. The nightclub becomes a liminal space where life and death blur—dancing, love, and passion mimic eternity but exist only in fleeting moments. These vivid depictions of nightlife emphasize the interplay between temporary pleasure and the search for deeper, lasting meaning.

Love and sex are portrayed as both grounding and liberating. The speaker invites intimacy (“kiss me, touch me, mark your territory”) while seeking protection and connection in moments of vulnerability. At the same time, they embrace the transformative power of love by shedding their “veils,” suggesting that passion has the potential to reveal the true self. Yet, this openness is balanced with caution, as the speaker values patience and depth in relationships, refusing to rush into superficial connections.

Ultimately, the poem is an ode to life’s contradictions: the pull between spirituality and indulgence, independence and vulnerability, euphoria and impermanence. The speaker’s eccentricity and self-assurance shine through as they navigate themes of death, sex, drugs, and transcendence in pursuit of authenticity. By the end, they affirm their power to attract blessings and live boldly, embracing the nightclub’s chaos and the universe’s infinite cycles with equal fervor. This is a celebration of the beauty in life’s complexities, where transformation and duality coexist seamlessly.

[deepinsideyourbeing]

Mientras salía a caminar un ratito, por fin me vino la inspiración. Podrías escribir sobre Reader estando en una cita o simplemente juntándose con Santi, y este tiene un vibrador dentro que se maneja a control remoto? Mi vida, seguro es de los que dicen que quieren parar porque se mueren de la vergüenza pero por dentro les encanta (exhibitionism, sex toys y mommy kink porque estamos hablando de Santi, si te sentís cómoda escribiendo sobre esto)

Kinktober, Día 24: Overstimulation

Santiago no puede dejar el hábito nervioso de jugar con su collar. No quiere hacerlo, pensás, bebiendo de tu copa mientras observás la manera en que tira del dije, desliza sus uñas por el relieve, colocándolo sobre su mentón para sentir el material frío antes de dejarlo caer sobre su pecho en un gesto que pretende ser despreocupado.

Los primeros botones de su camisa están abiertos y podés ver el rubor que va desde su rostro y su cuello hacia su pecho. Cuando regresó del baño pensaste que el color rojo en sus mejillas era únicamente de vergüenza, misma que lo obligaba a evitar el contacto visual cuando deslizó su ropa interior sobre la mesa para entregártela -vigilando que nadie notase el intercambio-.

Cuando tomaste la prenda para guardarla en tu bolso no esperabas sentir el líquido preseminal como evidencia de cuánto estaba disfrutando el momento. Lo miraste, sorprendida, porque se suponía que esto era un castigo: él tenía que obedecer tus órdenes, comportarse sin importar su incomodidad, para luego ocuparse de satisfacerte cuando estuvieran de regreso en el hotel.

-¿Qué tal el vino? ¿Te gusta?- preguntás en un tono de voz dulce. Tu voz lo saca de su interminable trance y cuando levanta la vista te encontrás con sus pupilas dilatadas-. ¿Y la salsa?

El brillo del pánico tiñe sus ojos y sus labios tiemblan cuando en voz baja contesta:

-Está todo perfecto.

Buscás en tu pequeño bolso tu teléfono, aunque primero te entretenés tocando la tela húmeda, desbloqueás la pantalla para tener acceso a la aplicación que necesitás y presionás el botón que acciona el vibrador. Santiago no sabía que se trataba de un vibrador, creyó que sólo era un plug, por lo que no te sorprende escucharlo reprimir un sonido de sorpresa con su puño contra su boca.

Mientras sus nudillos se vuelven blancos por la fuerza con la que se aferra a la mesa vos te llevás un dedo a la boca para probar los restos de su excitación. El resto de los presentes podrían pensar que tu gesto es para saborear la salsa, aunque eso no explica la mirada lujuriosa que le dirigís a tu novio y tampoco su postura o los espasmos de su cuerpo.

Cierra los ojos y cubre su boca con el dorso de su mano cuando aumentás la intensidad. Bebés otro poco de vino y contemplás sus expresiones: placer, pánico, vergüenza, el dolor de no poder tocarse, el horror de disfrutar una situación así. Jadea, desesperado, y te dirige una mirada suplicante.

-Me quiero ir.

Arqueás una ceja.

-¿Ya? Falta el postre.

Te ve voltear y sujeta tu brazo para llamar tu atención. Estás por regañarlo, golpear su mano para que te suelte, pero la forma en que sus párpados se cierran con fuerza y sus labios separándose para dejar salir un grito mudo te detienen: tiembla y sus dedos en tu brazo presionan con la fuerza suficiente para dejar moretones.

Respira de manera pesada, conteniendo los sonidos que luchan por escapar de su boca, mientras sus ojos escanean todo el lugar. No estás segura de si quiere que lo vean, si espera que nadie esté mirando en su dirección, sólo sabés que el brillo de las lágrimas que caen y corren por sus mejillas te provoca más de lo moralmente aceptable.

En lugar de permitirle disfrutar su orgasmo aumentás la intensidad. Sus uñas en tu piel arden, se muerde el labio hasta que una gota de sangre brota -internamente, pecando de cruel, pensás que un labial de ese tono le quedaría genial- y cae, manchando el mantel blanco.

Se lleva una mano a la cabeza y luego de clavar sus uñas en su cuero cabelludo comienza a tirar de su cabello. No tiene la capacidad para disimular tanto como lo haría normalmente, en momentos así sus herramientas como actor no sirven para enmascarar la situación, así que su única opción es sobrellevar el placer y el dolor, procurando llamar la menor atención posible.

Aún así la gente mira.

Santiago se queja, un patético sonido que sólo tus oídos perciben, pero no se mueve porque sabe que el movimiento sólo empeoraría el ángulo del vibrador contra su próstata. Muerde sus nudillos, tiñe su piel con su sangre, mientras más y más lágrimas se deslizan por su rostro. El rubor de sus mejillas se intensifica.

Esperás unos segundos más antes de tomar tu teléfono y apagar el vibrador. Santiago toma una profunda y temblorosa respiración (es mitad angustia mitad alivio) y luego baja la vista, probablemente para ver qué tan terrible y evidente es la mancha en su ropa. Cuando vuelve a mirarte parece estar enojado.

-Tomá- le entregás tu abrigo y tu bolso e inclinándote sobre la mesa, para que sólo él escuche, agregás:- No pensaste que iba a dejar que te vean, ¿no?

-No sé...

En lugar de fingir indignación descansás tu mentón en tu mano y le sonreís. Él quiere hacerte creer que ser el blanco de tu mirada llena de amor no es suficiente para compensarlo por el infierno que le hiciste pasar.

Ambos saben que sí lo es. Es más que suficiente.

[solixfugae]

Solo tú. Siempre tú. Un Ser Humano//Only you. Always you. A Human Being

En el final del mundo, lo único que queda eres tú. En el espejo de tu propia figura, la tan dulcemente estructurada para que nadie pueda entrar, para que nadie pueda salir. Buscando los vestigios de calor en espejismos plasmados en recuerdos, pero en tu memoria reinan las cadenas de tu esclavitud.

¿Quien eres dulce infierno, quien me mira en lo profundo de aquel oscuro lago? ¿Quien eres constante sueño, que veo en los cristales, que se despierta dentro de mi piel, que me llama entre vibraciones cuando no hay nadie a mi lado?

Yo no te escucho, porque no existe el sonido en el espacio. Y no abro mi boca porque la gravedad puede desgarrar mi garganta en pedazos. Pero entre lo más profundo de mis deliros, se que mi poderosa fuerza me acompaña, se que soy perfecto por un instante, la vida buena, amor, sexo, y fama.

¿Porque quien eres tu si no los tienes pajarito? Cuando te despiertas muerto cada mañana, un nido de perros es tu entorno, tu columna se retuerce, tus manos sangran. No chilles perro maldito, porque los mejores son los esclavos del mundo, los cuerpos sin rostro, las voces sin dientes, tu molde es amado en la boca de las botellas, en el humo de marihuana.

Quizá es tan fácil para ti no ser tu mismo, que tu orgullo prevalece en tu honor, y tu aceptación en tu falsa figura de inocencia. Porque el valor de tu persona sólo existe alrededor de otra presencia. Y tus anhelos te recubren y te asfixian como cuerdas en tu cuello, pero adoras el clímax de los frutos fantasmas, endorfinas por un mundo artificial al que jamás podrás entrar, debido al pánico de la pérdida de tu hipócrita estabilidad.

Ahora estas en el límite del todo y del nada, entre el hoyo y la pared, ¿prefieres saltar hasta salir de tu propio cadáver viviente, en vez de sumergirte en tan fácil tortura, en que tu peso muerto te deje caer? Tu espiral te llama, dulzura, el ronroneo de tu obsesión te hace perfecto, te abrirá tan fuertemente, que la sensación no le dará paso al sufrimiento, al menos no por un instante, al menos no por un momento.

Porque todos caen al final, maldito enfermo. La belleza del humano es su tragedia, la sangre es la tinta de un artista, los gritos son tu lienzo. Quema el mundo, arrancate los dedos, tu eres el final del todo estrella, explota supernova, hasta que el color te devoré, y los insectos recojan tus restos.

Pero si aun hay una voz humana entre un pájaro, un perro, y una estrella. Si no mataste al pobre niño torturado entre tus brazos, abre sus pulmones, devuelvele sus dientes, pega los fragmentos de su rostro esparcidos en el suelo. Liberalo, abrazalo, en el duelo de tus ojos podrás sentir remordimiento, pero este no es eterno en el perdón, mientras aún viva, aún tienes tiempo.

Eres constante en el palpitar en tu pecho, eres energía en tu voz, eres un creador en tus manos. Eres infinito mientras vivas, eres una oportunidad, un ser extraordinario.

Eres un ser vivo, eres un ser humano.

Aun tienes tiempo para serlo.

At the end of the world, the only thing left is you. In the mirror of your own figure, the one so sweetly structured so that no one can enter, so that no one can leave. Searching for the vestiges of warmth in mirages captured in remembrance, but in your memory the chains of your slavery reign.

Who are you sweet hell, who looks at me in the depths of that dark lake? Who are you constant dream, that I see in the crystals, that wakes up inside my skin, that calls me between vibrations when there is no one by my side?

I don't hear you, because there is no sound in space. And I don't open my mouth because gravity can tear my throat to shreads. But among the depths of my delusions, I know that my powerful strength accompanies me, I know that I am perfect for an instant, the good life, love, sex, and fame.

Because who are you if you don't have them, little bird? When you wake up dead every morning, a dog's nest is your environment, your spine writhes, your hands bleed. Don't wail, damned dog, because the best are the slaves of the world, the bodies without faces, the voices without teeth, your mold is loved in the mouth of the bottles, in the smoke of marijuana.

Maybe it is so easy for you not to be yourself, that your pride prevails in your honor, and your acceptance in your false figure of innocence. Because the value of your person only exists around another presence. And your longings cover you and suffocate you like ropes around your neck, but you adore the climax of the phantom fruits, endorphins for an artificial world that you will never be able to enter, due to the panic of the loss of your hypocritical stability.

Now you are on the limit of everything and nothing, between the hole and the wall, do you prefer to jump until you get out of your own living corpse, instead of submerging yourself in such easy torture, in which your dead weight lets you fall? Your spiral calls you, sweetness, the purr of your obsession makes you perfect, it will open you so strongly that the sensation will not give way to suffering, at least not for an instant, at least not for a moment.

Because they all fall in the end, you disgusting freak. The beauty of humans is their tragedy, blood is an artist's ink, screams are your canvas. Burn the world, tear off your fingers, you are the end of everything star, explode supernova, until the color devours you, and the insects collect your remains.

But if there is still a human voice between a bird, a dog, and a star. If you didn't kill the poor tortured child in your arms, open their lungs, give them back their teeth, glue the fragments of their face scattered on the floor. Release them, embrace them, in the mourning of your eyes you may feel remorse, but it is not eternal in forgiveness, as long as they are still alive, you still have time.

You are constant in the beating in your chest, you are energy in your voice, you are a creator in your hands. You are infinite as long as you live, you are an opportunity, an extraordinary being.

You are a living being, you are a human being.

You still have time to be one.

[repromed15062023]

Fertility Clinics In Ireland Going Through Sperm 'Shortage' Due To Demand And Legislation Change On Donors

Tomorrow is our last day at sea and all things going properly we ought to always dock at Texel at high tide, around 6pm.. One of an important elements of selecting a analysis programme is discovering a supervisor who has related expertise in your space of curiosity. When you discover a supervisor who, or a project that, aligns along with your analysis interests, you must make contact with the related potential supervisor/lecturer/Professor or NUI Galway staff member to debate issues additional.

(expiration date may be found on the applicator crimp and on the carton)Conceive Plus could be very slippery, clear spills instantly. Van Gogh's full sisters have every produced elite mares and worldwide sports horses. Damsire Bernstein is a son of the nice Ramiro Z, and third sire Burggraaf adds a second dose of Landgraf, together with another exception Holstein sire, Cor de la Bryère. According to the end result of this research SC, PM and TM outcomes of spermatozoa obtained by the Ongo portable system are similar to these offered by the Microptic desktop CASA system. The Ongo instrument is a practical and cost-effective alternative in instances the place a complete CASA system isn't obtainable or not affordable.

The demand for donor insemination usually outweighs the number of donors. Assisted human replica services (including IVF) usually are not offered by the HSE. Your family doctor (GP) might refer you to a personal sperm bank specialist or clinic, otherwise you could possibly contact a clinic directly for an appointment. After the birth of any youngster, the start notification is about up on the

Some have the donors write a personal essay sharing why they selected to turn into a sperm donor. There are sperm donor banks the world over you could handpick from, based mostly on top, weight, eye and hair colour, race, faith, pores and skin tone, employment, educational background and so forth. The value of sperm donor can range depending on quite so much of components. Donated sperm cannot be used to create more than 10 families, with no limits on the variety of children born within every family. It may help couples struggling to have youngsters of their very own or single women who need to begin a household. Sperm donation is essential for fertility treatment such as intrauterine insemination or IVF.

SAS statistical software (release 9.1 TS Level 1M3; SAS Institute, Cary, NC) was used to analyze information. Data were chosen from information stored at the sperm donor ireland Clinical Research Unit, Centre François Baclesse, Caen, France and were up to date on January 1, 2006. 'We work, merely work with two sperm banks, considered one of them Denmark, the others in America.

However, as of April 2005, youngsters conceived via sperm donation do have the proper to ask for sure details about their donor once they attain the age of 16. The DAHR process must sperm donation ireland have been undertaken in a DAHR facility in Ireland using a traceable sperm donor. Both mother and father can be registered because the parents

The vibrant images may cause some to boost an eyebrow about Reeslev’s work as chief executive of Cryos International, the world’s largest sperm bank. Peter Reeslev sits in front of some rather unusual paintings in his office in Denmark. One image is a close-up photograph of a sperm making an attempt to enter the wall of an egg, the other a sperm being injected into an egg.

Usually, this is either IUI remedy, IVF treatment or same-sex female couples may wish to pursue Shared Motherhood treatment. Previously we observed that elevated FSH ranges correlate properly with poor spermatogenesis after therapy,35 but in our present study this relationship apparently did not exist before therapy. This is confirmed by the scarce observations within the literature5,6,30 and implies that whereas semen high quality after most cancers therapy is poor as a result of injury to the gonadal constructions, there should sperm donation be another reason to explain diminished sperm quality earlier than remedy. Thus, it is still worthwhile deciding on non-gonadotoxic remedy for males with Hodgkin’s lymphoma, even if they are infertile earlier than remedy. For a few years gonadal toxicity has been studied in trials by the European Organization for Research and Treatment of Cancer (EORTC) Lymphoma Group and the Groupe d’Étude des Lymphomes de l’Adulte (GELA). This gave us the chance to check the spermatogenesis of a large cohort of male patients with early-stage Hodgkin’s lymphoma prior to remedy.

[prettycottonmouthlamia]

>According to Acusilaus, whose version is the earliest surviving one, Caenis (here spelled Καινή, Caene), after having sex with him, asked Poseidon to turn her into a man so that she wouldn't bear his child, or anyone else's.

oh i am going to strangle Ovid

[braveflowervol6]

"Steal my girl" es una canción larry:

En primera no está de más aclarar que la canción fue compuesta por Louis, Liam y otras tres personas, además Liam dijo en una entrevista en diciembre que cuando componía con Louis en 1D por lo general él se ocupaba de las melodías, mientras que Louis se inclinaba más por las letras.

Una vez tocado este punto, procedo a analizar la letra de la canción

La primera estrofa dice:

“Ella ha sido mi reina desde que teníamos 16 años, queremos las mismas cosas, soñamos los mismos sueños”

Les recuerdo que cuando Louis y Harry se conocieron en TXF este último tenía 16. Y sé que me van a decir “Pero Louis tenía 18 cuando eso sucedió" Creo que aquí sucede lo mismo que con “18”, les explico; sería muy raro que pusieran justas las dos edades que tenían Louis y Harry cuando se conocieron, así que solo ponen una y la utilizan en plural; como el “He estado enamorado de ti desde que teníamos 18”.

Tipo piensen; en esa parte pudieron poner LITERALMENTE cualquier edad desde los 13 a los 19, porque en inglés todas estas terminan en TEEN y rimarían a la perfección. Pero noooo, justo ponen 16.

En fin, move on. En esa misma estrofa dice:

“Queremos las mismas cosas, tenemos los mismos sueños”

Cuando los dos entraron a TXF tenían el mismo sueño; ser reconocidos. Que su música llegara a muchas personas y poder cantarles a multitudes (Cosa que por cierto lograron), sin embargo después sus sueños cambiaron. No puedo evitar recordar aquella vez en la que les preguntaron si querían hijos y una familia, a pesar de ser tan jóvenes y Louis y Harry asintieron para después mirarse con sonrisas en el rostro.

Pasemos a la siguiente estrofa

Lo tengo todo, porque ella es a la que quiero,su mamá me llama "amor", su papá me llama "hijo”

Esta estrofa se refiere básicamente a que la familia de su pareja les dio “La bendición” para salir y no solo eso, sino que también se llevan bien. Todos sabemos que las familias de Louis y Harry tenían muy buena relación. Las madres de ambos eran prácticamente mejores amigas y Anne manifestó en muchas ocasiones sentir un gran cariño por Louis.

Se notaba mucho que lo quería bastante. Además de que ella autorizó a su hijo menor de edad para vivir con Louis y que este fuese su tutor legal, por lo que podemos deducir que confiaba en él y le agradaba que estuviera cerca de su hijo.

Luego viene la parte del coro, este dice lo siguiente:

“Todo el mundo me quiere robar a mi chica, todo el mundo quiere largarse con su corazón, un par de billones en todo el mundo, encontrad a otra, porque ella me pertenece.”

Esta parte tiene mucho sentido si recordamos que por ese tiempo a Harry se le involucraba sentimentalmente con cualquier chica con la que tuviese el más mínimo contacto, y no solo eso, Harry era constantemente sexualizado e incluso acosado por todo tipo de personas. Desde entrevistadoras, hasta miembros del fandom.

Harry era “El sex symbol” y medio fandom soñaba con ser su pareja, además de que casi todas las adolescentes de por ese entonces le tenían en un altar. Por ello lo de “Todos quieren robarse a mi chica” “Un par de billones en todo el mundo”

Y para los que dicen “Pero si en el coro dice GIRL, así que OBVIAMENTE habla de una chica”. Les recuerdo que hay muchas otras canciones Larry donde la palabra girl está presente (TDKAU) o donde incluso hay nombres de chicas (Olivia) y no dudamos de que sean canciones Larry.

Ellos eran una boyband y por ende debían hacer canciones con las que las chicas se pudieran identificar, aunque no necesariamente fuesen escritas para una mujer. Eso y que tenían que dudo que a su equipo le gustara la idea de pronombres masculinos en una canción escrita por Louis

La siguiente estrofa dice:

“Besa como una reina, su caminar es tan esbelto, y todas las mandíbulas caen cuando lleva esos jeans”

Momento de apreciación de Harry en jeans, el resto se explica sólo:

Continuamos:

“Yo no existo, si no la tengo, el sol no brilla, el mundo no da la vuelta”

Aquí solo basta con ver como Louis observa a Harry. Lo mira como si el sol saliera y se ocultara por él. Me acordé de “El verano y las mariposas, todas pertenecen a tu creación” Dios, estos dos se aman.

Y para terminar, tenemos el solo de la canción. Amo esta parte:

“Ella lo sabe, sabe que nunca la he decepcionado, ella lo sabe, sabe que nunca voy a permitir que otro se lleve su amor lejos de mí”

Esto es una promesa, amigos míos. Básicamente está diciéndole a esa otra persona que a pesar de todo por lo que tenga que pasar y los obstáculos que tengan que superar, él siempre va a estar a su lado.

El amor de H y L no siempre fue fácil y nosotras como Larries lo sabemos. Ellos tuvieron que atravesar por barbas, controles de daño, presa de mierda y un montón de cosas más. Y a pesar de eso ellos siguen juntos; ellos siempre lucharon el uno por el otro y se dieron apoyo mutuo, aun cuando no se les permitía ni siquiera interactuar juntos en público. Eso para mí es una promesa de amor; la certeza de que los obstáculos no podían derrumbarlos. Ellos lo hicieron.

[rthstewart]

More Narnia Spare Oom AUs

So I’ve like actually written a lot of this.  But....  based on this lovely post by @athoughtfox and then @edmundjustking made the serious mistake of asking for me to elaborate and so I did , a little bit here .  But... I have opinions about this, OK?  And A LOT OF WORDS.   REALLY A LOT OF WORDS.

Digory – Professor at Oxford, professor of philosophy and theology, renowned expert on the Oxford Franciscans, the Blessed Duns Scotus, and Gerard Manly Hopkins.  Professor Kirke is trying to construct an elaborate theory of environmental stewardship and haecceity based upon his Narnia experience. An excellent theologian and a very bad Christian – he’s not been to church in over 30 years.  Ace.

Polly – Amateur zoologist and naturalist --- “maiden” aunt HA! Always accompanied by a dog, a cat, an umbrella and a carpet bag.  Drove an ambulance in France for the Red Cross in WW1 in France.  Drives an MG. World traveler.   Bisexual. Works at the Whipsnade Zoo and has a bad habit of always trying to curtsy in front of Peter.

Peter: Private, youngest member of Ox & Bucks 2d Battalion, D Company, Glider Corps (whose insignia is Bellerophon aboard Pegasus) and sees the first action on D-Day when his Horsa Glider crashes into the Caen Canal bridge (Normandy) (which becomes known as Pegasus Bridge). He’s wounded in hedgerow battles on the march to Paris, sent home to recover and (probably) never sees more action.  (Unless he joins Captain America’s Howling Commandos and cleans up Hydra nests in former occupied Europe).  Maybe ends up with T-Force, Ox & Bucks 1st Battalion, who are rounding up German scientists and high value targets and “persuading” them to come to England or America.  

After he’s demobbed, he enrolls at Oxford and starts an affair with a married woman.  He then drops out of Oxford as a dismal failure at the classics curriculum.  He comes into some money and finally gets Aslan’s message and begins rebuilding a country for a 3rd time -- he ends up working in construction and literally becomes a rock on which England is rebuilt, as a carpenter and bricklayer.  Ultimately he’s elected to Commons as the rep for Oxford-Cowley where his battles with Margaret Thatcher become legendary.  Bisexual, married, two children, 6 grandchildren. Knighted in 1992.  

 Susan:  Lying about her age and armed with forged identify papers, Susan begins running a spy through the British Embassy in Washington DC in the summer of 1942 to build support in the American Congress for the British war effort.  She leaves school in 1943 and enters SOE training.  She is deployed to Bénouville at a woman’s hospital to spy on the Nazi fortification of the Caen Canal which Peter’s Horsa glider crashed into on D-Day. Sometime thereafter, she is eventually able to return to England (and maybe hangs out with/has sex with Peggy Carter for a while in France on the road to Paris).  Eventually, she is recruited to MI6/SIS with her partner from Washington and they eventually marry where they built networks of spies throughout the Balkans that are blown and murdered by the Cambridge 5.  Her husband may die in Berlin in or around 1950 and/or she remarries.  One daughter; one grandchild.  COE Deaconess, international election observer, advocate for women’s pentathlon in the Olympics, always keeps wolfhounds and a really large handbag that she keeps a Little Joe crossbow in that she got during the War.  Becomes Dame Commander in or around 1980.  

 Edmund:  With forged papers, Edmund passes off as a British army private in Washington DC in 1943, becomes fluent in German and Russian, and is involved in espionage efforts in Greece and the Balkans that preceded Allied operations in the Mediterranean in 1943.   He narrowly avoids a honey trap and seduction by a man with the aim of  compromising him into becoming a Soviet agent – the Soviets are seeking information on the Venona project.  After flirting with the SIS, he decides to not join his sister in espionage.  He reads law at Oxford and works the Judges’ Trial at Nuremberg.  He becomes a successful barrister and renowned human rights activist, with a particular focus on war crimes (with Lucy) and tirelessly advocates for the Chagoss Islands.  Edmund refuses a knighthood for years because he wants Peter to get his first.  He finally relents and becomes the Right Honourable Sir Edmund Pevensie but hates being called Sir.  Sits on the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council.  Bisexual, married, three children, five grandchildren, married to a Holocaust survivor. Always keeps cats.

 Lucy:  Leaves school in 1943 with forged identity papers to begin agitating for Greek famine relief and more aggressive action to stop the Holocaust and allow more Jews into England.  Joins the Red Cross.  Eventually becomes involved in smuggling food to the Channel Islands which are under Nazi occupation. After the war, Lucy advocates for families of Chinese men in the Liverpool area after the Chinese merchant sailors are secretly kidnapped and forcibly repatriated back to China.  She eventually goes back to school and becomes a doctor.  She and Edmund are involved war crimes investigations all over the world.  Through NGOs, she operates clinics and advocates for security of the whole person (income, education, home, political stability, healthcare) as universal human rights.  Short listed for a Nobel Peace prize twice.  Has arrest records in 5 countries for civil disobedience.  Bisexual. Marries an American, has three children and four grandchildren.  

 Eustace:  Becomes a world-renowned paleontologist, with a focus on trying to find fossil records that can explain the worldwide mythology of dragons. Discovers a species of flying lizard, Draco Scrubb.  Marries Jill, two children.

 Jill:  A respected artist and cook.  She sells art to sporting magazines her mother and father run in the U.S. and Caribbean and also to paleontological and naturalist publications.  Also active with her family, in the cause of Jamaican independence and politics thereafter.  She purchases a cottage on the Isle of Wright that has portals to a magical place with pink water and blue sand.