#sound estate auctions

[dejavuestateliquidator]

Estate Liquidation Auctions: Everything You Need to Know

An estate liquidation auction is a sale of all or part of the contents of an estate, typically held after the death of the owner. Estate liquidation auctions can also be held to downsize an estate, settle a divorce, or simply to sell off unwanted items.

[queenshelby]

Auctioned (P. 2)

Pairing: Dark!Thomas Shelby x Virgin!Reader/OC

Warning: Darkish Themes, Prostitution, Smut, Eventual Loss of Virginity, Dubious Consent, Corruption, Destructive Behavior, Massive Age Gap

Notes: Damn, I had this in my drafts for a while but could not publish it as I was a little afraid about how it would be perceived. Also this is the first time I used an OC, so be gentle with me.

You arrived at Arrow House, Thomas Shelby's imposing mansion in Birmingham. The grandeur of the estate was incomparable, but it did little to quell the knot of unease in your stomach. As you stepped out of the car, your heart thudded in your chest, and you couldn't help but wonder what awaited you inside.

At the entrance, you were met by Frances, Thomas Shelby's trusted maid. Clad in a crisp uniform, she greeted you with a polite smile and led you through the ornate halls. Her footsteps echoed on the marble floors, heightening your sense of apprehension.

Frances paused before a lavish door and turned to face you.

"This will be your room," she informed you, her voice gentle.

"Mr. Shelby insists on providing for his...acquisitions. You'll find everything you need inside” she told you quietly as she opened the door, revealing a room that was both opulent and suffocatingly extravagant. Velvet drapes adorned the windows, and a massive four-poster bed dominated the space, its dark wood glinting in the soft lamplight. You couldn't help but feel like it was a gilded cage.

“Acquisitions?” you asked. “Is there more than one of us?” you queried, causing Frances to nod.

“Yes, ma’am. A woman named Alison was acquired by Mr Shelby several months ago, and after her contract was finished, she decided to stay at her own volition. I believe that she receives a generous salary for her services and, no doubt, come tomorrow, you will meet her,” Frances explained, and you mumbled out a polite “thank you” in response.

Despite Frances’s reassurances, you still struggled to shake off the gnawing worry that had settled in your mind. What did Thomas Shelby have planned for you?

"If you need anything, anything at all, Mr. Shelby has instructed me to assist you. Just ring the bell, and I'll be with you,” Frances said, her eyes filled with silent sympathy, and, with that, she left you to your own devices, closing the door behind her. You were finally alone in this unfamiliar territory, surrounded by the ghosts of the past and the uncertainty of the future.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you stared down at your hands, fidgeting nervously. You had become Thomas Shelby's possession, a mere object to satisfy his desires. It wasn't fair, but then again, when had life ever been fair? You had agreed to this and needed the money.

***

Minutes turned into hours, and you tried to distract yourself from the ominous silence of the room. You wandered to the window, peering out at the moonlit grounds and the distant city lights. The world outside seemed to be carrying on as if nothing had changed, oblivious to the turmoil within you.

Just as you were about to resign yourself to the loneliness of the night, there was a knock on the door, startling you. The sound shattered the silence, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and trepidation.

You made your way to the door, your palms clammy and your heart pounding in your chest. You took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to turn the handle.

To your surprise, it was Frances again, her eyes searching your face for any hint of distress. "Mr. Shelby wishes to see you in his study," she said, her voice almost a whisper.

You nodded, your voice failing you once again. As you followed Alison through the sprawling halls of Arrow House, you couldn't help but feel like a lamb being led to the slaughter. Every step brought you closer to this dangerous man, Thomas Shelby who, until now, had barely spoken a word to you.

Finally, you arrived at a massive oak door. Frances knocked and, without waiting for an invitation, pushed it open. The scent of whiskey and cigars wafted out, mingling with the faint glow of a roaring fire.

"Come in,” a commanding voice beckoned from within. Taking a deep breath, you stepped inside, your apprehension reaching new heights.

Thomas Shelby sat behind a grand mahogany desk, his piercing blue eyes capturing your gaze as you entered. He was every bit as intimidating as the rumours suggested, his presence filling the room with an air of danger and authority.

"Close the door, Love," Thomas Shelby ordered, his tone leaving no room for disobedience. You did as you were told, desperately trying to remain composed under his intense scrutiny.

"Come, sit," he directed, pointing to an intricately carved armchair opposite his desk. You complied, taking a seat, your hands trembling ever so slightly.

"I trust you're settling in well," Thomas said, his voice smooth yet laced with a hint of danger. It sent shivers down your spine as if he could read the thoughts racing through your mind.

You nodded, your voice barely audible. It was almost impossible to look away from him, his eyes captivating you like a predator eyeing its prey.

"Good," Thomas replied, leaning back in his chair, his gaze intensifying. "Now,” he paused, inhaling the smoke from his cigarette. “I will allow you to become accustomed to your new surroundings tonight, and your services won’t be needed as yet. However, I do consider it timely to lay out some ground rules for you.” Thomas told you sternly before continuing on.

“You are my possession, and as such, I expect no other man to touch you while you are here, living in my house,” Thomas said, and your heart quickened at his words, the weight of his dominance bearing down on you. The realisation of what you had gotten yourself into finally started to sink in.

"I don't expect you to love me, and I will never be able to love you," Thomas continued, his voice steady. "Your sole purpose here is to provide me with pleasure, nothing more. Do you understand?" he asked, and you nodded once again, a knot forming in your throat. It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that this was only a transactional exchange of desire.

“I also expect you not to touch yourself intimately unless I permit you to do so. Understood?” Thomas asked as a smug smile tugged at the corner of Thomas Shelby's lips.

“Yes Mr Shelby” you responded obediently

"Good. We understand each other, then. Now, Love, tell me, why did you agree to this fucking auction, eh?” Thomas asked, causing you to swallow harshly.

Stumbling over your words, you told him about the poverty you experienced ever since you were a child. The sound of your voice was barely audible in the tense atmosphere. Thomas Shelby's eyes traced your face as if committing it to memory.

“The things we do for money, eh?” Tommy chuckled before telling you again that you were his now.

“Your my fucking property now, Love and poverty is not something you have to worry about again,” Thomas then stated, his voice low and possessive.

You gulped, your throat dry and your mind racing. The weight of his dominance bore down on you, leaving you little room to escape the clutches of his desires.

"Y-yes, Mr Shelby," you stammered, your voice trembling. Thomas Shelby's smirk widened, no doubt pleased with your acquiescence.

"Very well then," he said, rising from his chair and moving closer to you. "If you remember your place and serve me well, I will ensure that you are looked after, eh,” he told you, caressing your face possessively.

His words hung in the air, heavy with the promise of things to come. You couldn't help but shiver, a mix of anticipation and apprehension coursing through your veins.

"Do you have any questions?" Thomas finally asked, his voice lowering to a seductive whisper. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should speak your mind, but the curiosity got the better of you.

"Will, will you...hurt me?" you managed to say, your voice barely audible. The vulnerability in your question laid bare the fear that had been gnawing at your insides.

“Will I hurt you?” Thomas chuckled, repeating your question. His eyes softened for a moment, and in that fleeting instant, you caught a glimpse of something buried beneath his rough exterior. "I will never hurt you, Love," he replied, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You are mine to protect, not to hurt, unless, of course, you give me a reason to," Thomas confirmed and immediately, a wave of relief washed over you, a glimmer of trust forming where there had only been fear. Perhaps there was more to Thomas Shelby than met the eye.

Thomas Shelby took a step closer, the air thick with tension. "That will be all for tonight Y/N," he said, his voice reverberating through your core. "There are other matters I must attend to” he then said, and the finality in his words left you with no choice but to obey. You were in his world now, stripped of your innocence and thrust into a world of raw desire. And Thomas Shelby was the man who held all the power.

"Alison," Thomas called before you had a chance to leave. There was a hint of impatience in his voice as he noticed someone outside his office, spying. Within moments, another woman appeared at the door, her eyes avoiding any lingering eye contact with you at first. She must have been outside his office all along, listening to your conversation.

"Yes, Mr Shelby?" she replied, her voice respectful yet tinged with apprehension.

“Spying, are we?” Thomas smirked before changing the subject. “Come and meet our new acquaintance. Her name is Y/N, and I trust you will show her the ropes, eh?” Thomas said as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving you.

“So, may I assume she is not a maid then?” Alison ought to clarify, and Thomas nodded.

“She is not a maid, Alison. In fact, she is not a whore either. She is a virgin… for now at least,” Thomas smirked, and the knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach as he spoke.

“Really?” Allison asked, surprised, and you nodded nervously.

“Really,’ Thomas confirmed, both looking at you as if you were nothing but a piece of meat.

“Now, Alison here is quite experienced herself. She worked at one of the local brothels for a while, and I offered her an opportunity to work for me here at Arrow House. Just like I offered your sister this very same opportunity, but unfortunately for her, she declined. It was a lucrative offer, but she decided she could not and would not satisfy my needs. Alison, on the other hand, did well in my possession, and I believe in her ability to ensure that you will do equally well for me” Thomas explained, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and dominance as he spoke these words.

“When do you anticipate her to be ready for the main event, sir…” Allison began to say and before she could even finish her sentence, Thomas spoke.

“By weeks’ end. Although, I am hoping to have a little fun with her tomorrow,” Thomas smirked and again, the weight of his words hung in the air, and an internal struggle ensued within you.

“Fun? What kind of fun?” you asked worryingly before, in a daring move, letting your eyes roam freely over Thomas's muscular form, his sharp jawline, and the dangerous allure he emanated. The silence stretched between you, charged with a mix of apprehension and intrigue.

“Perhaps actions speak louder than words, wouldn’t you agree, Alison?” Thomas asked as a self-assured smugness played at the corner of his lips.

“Yes, Mr Shelby. Perhaps I should demonstrate what you may expect her to do,” Alison agreed, knowing exactly what Thomas was referring to as you sat there still, frozen to the spot.

You let out an audible gulp, torn between the fear of what this new role entailed and the forbidden allure that Thomas presented.

“Perhaps you should,” Thomas smirked as he leaned forward, his intense gaze searing into your soul before, eventually, he turned towards Allison.

The mixture of arousal and apprehension coursed through your veins as, without warning, he drew Allison in for a kiss before pulling her back gently, making her moan in discomfort.

 As Allison's lips met his, you couldn't tear your eyes away. The sight of them locked in a passionate embrace sent a wave of heat through your body, mingled with a hint of jealousy.

Thomas pulled away, his eyes never leaving yours. “On your knees, Love,” he ordered his voice a dangerous undertone as he looked over at you with determination.

"Observe," he commanded, his voice dripping with arrogance.

Your face reddened as you tried to mentally prepare yourself for what was to come. This was a whole new world to you, and your inexperience made you feel even more vulnerable.

Allison stepped back, her eyes still locked with yours, as she gracefully lowered herself to her knees in front of Thomas.

Your eyes widened, and uncertainty filled your mind. You couldn't tear your gaze away as Allison's nimble fingers began to undo Thomas's belt.

“Oh god,” were the words that escaped you, as eventually, Alison freed Thomas’s now hardening length and Thomas looked down at her, a certain arrogance in his gaze.

"Take note Love," Thomas said, his voice carrying a hint of danger, "this is what I expect from you," he told you before glancing at Alison again.

“Use your mouth, Allison," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Your cheeks flushed as Allison obeyed, taking Thomas into her mouth. The moan that escaped his lips made an electric jolt shoot through your body.

You couldn't help but feel a mix of delight and intimidation. This was what Thomas expected, what he desired. And now, it was your turn to learn.

Your breath hitched as you watched Allison's lips trail down Thomas's length, her tongue exploring every inch.

The room grew hotter with unspoken desires as Thomas's fingers threaded through Allison's hair, guiding her movements, forcing her to take him in all the way to the back of her throat.

A mixture of embarrassment, arousal, and fear washed over you as you imagined yourself in Allison's place. Could you ever live up to Thomas's expectations?

Thomas's gaze never wavered from yours, his piercing eyes delving deep into your soul. He knew the effect he had on you, the power he held over your every thought.

"Do you understand Love?" he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of authority and satisfaction.

You nodded, unable to form coherent words as your own desires swirled within you.

Allison continued her intimate ministrations, her eyes meeting yours as if giving you a silent challenge. A challenge to surpass her, to prove your worth to Thomas.

But then, suddenly, Thomas withdrew, leaving Allison momentarily bewildered.

“Come,” he ordered, clearly wanting you to take Alison’s place and, immediately, wild thoughts raced through your mind, a battle between fear and desire.

“You said tomorrow…do you want me…” you stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"I changed my mind Love, and I do not take no for an answer," he said, his voice a low warning. “Now come,” he said again and you complied and walked over towards where he was standing, with Alison still stroking his length, causing a clear fluid to pool on his tip.

Thomas watched you intently, his eyes searching for any sign of weakness. He wanted to see if you had the strength to meet his demands. He was testing you and then, you took up all the courage you had and leaned in, your lips capturing Thomas's in a hesitant kiss while Alison continued to stroke him.

It was unlike anything you had ever experienced before. Thomas's kiss was demanding, his lips moulding against yours with an intensity that left you breathless. There was an undeniable chemistry between you. As your lips parted, Thomas's eyes bore into yours, searching for any hint of uncertainty.

"On your knees," he commanded, his voice demanding and assertive and, immediately, panic surged through your veins as you realised what he was asking of you. You hesitated, unsure if you could comply.

Thomas's patience wore thin. "Now," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Slowly, you dropped to your knees, heart pounding in your chest. You had never been so exposed, vulnerable to his every desire.

Allison moved aside, allowing you to take her place entirely. The intensity of his gaze made your breath catch in your throat.

He reached down, his fingers gently lifting your chin to meet his gaze. His touch sent an electric jolt through your body.

"You see, Love," he whispered, his breath grazing against your lips, "I enjoy pushing boundaries, testing limits."

His words hung in the air, the weight of his expectations heavy upon your shoulders. You couldn't deny the allure, the thrill that coursed through your veins.

Bracing yourself, you tentatively leaned forward, your lips hovering just inches from Thomas's length.

“Now prove to me that you can satisfy my needs," he said, his voice a commanding whisper.

Your heart raced as you met Thomas's gaze head-on. Without uttering a word, you nodded and wrapped your hand around Thomas's hardness, your touch tentative but loaded with promise. You were determined to give him everything he desired.

A low groan escaped Thomas's lips as you began to stroke him, your movements growing bolder with each passing second. You were finding your rhythm.

The dominance that radiated from Thomas only fueled your desire to please him. With every whimper and gasp that fell from his mouth, your confidence grew.

Thomas's fingers entangled themselves in your hair, gently guiding your head closer to him. He wanted to feel your mouth, your tongue, worshipping him.

Taking the hint, you parted your lips and eagerly took Thomas into your mouth. The taste of him, the way he filled you, sent bolts of pleasure through your senses.

“That’s it, Love,” Thomas groaned as your head bobbed up and down, steadily building a rhythm that mirrored the waves of desire coursing through both of you. You were entirely focused on his pleasure.

The sounds of your shared passion filled the air, mingling with Thomas's ragged breaths and the wet, lewd noises of your mouth on him.

Thomas's grip on your hair tightened, his hips moving in time with your ministrations. He was close, a tight coil of pleasure building within him.

You gagged several times. It was unavoidable, and even with drool and make-up covering your face disproportionately, Thomas clearly enjoyed watching what you as he forced your head down his shaft.

“I am close, Love,” he eventually announced, but you had no idea what this meant. He was close? To what?

“I expect you to swallow. So, don’t make a fucking mess, eh” Thomas then growled, confusing you even more as his release was imminent.

All you knew by this point was that he felt pleasure, and the knowledge that you were the one driving him to this edge sent a surge of pride through you.

As Thomas's climax finally washed over him, you felt his shaft pulsating. His movements stilled, and he pushed his length into the back of your throat.

A warm, thick and somewhat sweet liquid then filled your mouth, hitting the back of your throat like a violent torrent, spurt after spurt, and you remembered what he said so you instinctively swallowed. You had set out to satisfy him, and you had succeeded.

Panting heavily, Thomas slowly released his hold on your hair. His gaze, filled with a mixture of satisfaction and admiration, locked onto yours.

"You have exceeded my expectations, Love, but you still have much to learn," he said, his voice laden with awe, and it was at that moment that you realised Thomas Shelby was more than just dominant and dangerous; he was flawed, vulnerable, and seeking solace in the very depths of your touch.

[sirfrogsworth]

Grampa's Antique Fan (2015 vs 2024 Edit)

As a young man, after coming home from the Second World War, my grampa got a job as an electrician for Emerson Electric. He didn't work on the actual electrical products. He just maintained the electrical systems that power the tools to make electrical components.

It was a "I heard you need electricity for your electricity" type deals.

The company was founded in 1890 in nearby Ferguson, Missouri by John Wesley Emerson. He was a Union commander in the Civil War and a lawyer and then a judge and then an author and then a historian... so he was clearly qualified to run one of the first electronics companies. (This is currently referred to as the "Law of Elon".)

Emerson (the company, not the dude) specialized in electric motors and was the first to stick their motors in a fan and sell them.

As you can see by the 4 protective fan guard loopies, these were very safe for kids to be around.

I mean, the biggest thing you could shove in there is a baby arm, which is the least important part of a baby. No baby heads were chopped off—which was the bar for consumer safety during that era.

Fans are rated by the volume of air they can push over a period of time and your average box fan can push about 1400 cubic feet per minute or "CFM". When this Emerson (the fan, not the dude) was produced they actually used "CCH" or cubic cubits per hour. Emerson (the dude) loved using odd standards of measurement much to the chagrin of his engineers.

Due to the small surface area, weak angle of attack, and heavy metal blades, this electronic beast could only push a baker's dozen cubic cubits per baker's hour—which was a confusing metric of time because people were very superstitious and they refused to put the 13 on the baker's clocks. They just left a mysterious blank void after the 12 and apparently several people had existential crises during the baker's hour. Some were institutionalized for a rare condition called Time Delirium.

Thankfully Emerson Electric was able to provide the electroshock therapy devices that cured several patients. This was achieved by erasing the memory of the traumatic time delirium events along with a few other unimportant details like what they did last Tuesday and their mother's name and one engineering degree that the guy wasn't even using.

My dad actually got the fan working and let me tell you... that bad boy could really work up a gentle breeze...

...if you stood behind it and blew.

And that fine American-made electric fan motor was just as quiet as a leaf blower on Saturday morning.

Over the last century, Emerson was bought and sold and bought and sold.

And bought and sold and bought and sold.

Was that 7?

Eh, close enough. We'll call it a baker's 7.

They changed their product line countless times over their 130+ years of existence. After fans they pivoted and made electric meat grinders. To this day, no one know what inspired that decision.

Currently, they make radar avionics and are majority-owned by the private equity firm, Blackstone. Which is a totally non-evil sounding name they chose for their company-eating empire. Please ignore that the CEO was one of Trump's policy strategists. This is a non-evil company with a non-evil name run by non-evil people, okay?

Despite Emerson Electric having to settle a baker's gross of lawsuits involving a few lightly scalp'd babies, they maintain a Fortune 500 status and are still headquartered in Ferguson.

They occupy one of the most boring ass buildings ever constructed.

Just rectangles all the way down.

That architect told every angle to get rect.

Of course, I forgot all of this cool history and sold this fan in the estate auction. I suppose it is a good thing I got a nice photograph to help assuage my current feelings of guilt. I mean, it is not baby scalping, time delirium guilt—but I would feel better if I knew my gramp-gramp's fan was in a good home with 0 babies.

[sgiandubh]

Fly-fishing weekend?

Yesterday, on the Avochie Estate, in Aberdeenshire. It does sound more like a business trip, though - of course, that does not preclude combining business and pleasure:

Several auction lots have been given by Sassenach Spirits for the Deveron, Bogie and Isla Rivers Charitable Trust (https://www.deveron.org/)'s dinner auction, next September 6 (https://www.deveron.org/sundown-on-the-deveron-centenary-dinner-auction-in-association-with-bowlts/- the whisky will be graciously provided by Bacardi, though 😎). Hookergate seems to have passed completely unnoticed by that (big and very serious) local NGO board: not exactly the kind of people to read JJ, to be honest, so it's all good.

The news was immediately dissected by another blog (ahem). It may came as no surprise here, however, that the Avochie Estate (https://www.avochie.com/) is a family-friendly destination - 'fun things to do with children':

No fishing on Sundays, though:

All of the three available accommodation options have very specific family-friendly amenities, by the way:

I am not sure if he stayed the night, though. I do not think the houses featured in the two pictures he posted on Instagram are a perfect match, but hey - I could be wrong:

Anyways, back to the Deveron, Bogie and Isla Rivers Charitable Trust. Its partnership links with one of the big global players in the spirits business, the Pernod Ricard Group (https://www.pernod-ricard.com/en), based in Paris, via 'The River Within' sustainable development programme, are more than obvious:

Even more interesting, the charity will release, at the end of July, a limited edition batch of its own gin. Proceeds of the sales will directly go into its coffers and help support its projects:

Clearly extending a growing business network, and perhaps spending a well-deserved weekend away from prying eyes, too. The guys featured in the pics are charity people: I doubt he spent an evening drinking his arse off with them, if you see what I mean 😉.

[sparklepocalypse]

I have received approximately all of the tags today, so big giant thanks to @zwiazdziarka, @priincebutt, @bigassbowlingballhead, @wordsofhoneydew, @ships-to-sail, @getmehighonmagic, @nocoastposts, @magicandarchery, @gayrootvegetable, @heybuddy-drabbles, and @kiwiana-writes for the shout-outs!

Cold-calling @hgejfmw-hgejhsf, @vanillahigh00, @duchessdepolignaca03, @cha-melodius, and @orchidscript today, but the tag's open for anyone else who wants to play along.

Today in Facing Tempests: Henry and Alex explore an attic. Yes, really.

The door on the right leads to a broom closet. The door on the left reveals a flight of short, narrow stairs that lead at a sharp incline toward what Alex assumes is the attic; they’re little more than a glorified ladder. Servant stairs, Alex figures, ascending them practically on tiptoe. “Hey, so I’m not gonna find a cursed painting that looks like you up here, am I?” Alex asks Henry, who’s right on his heels. “Of course not,” Henry replies, his tone serious. “We keep all of those at Balmoral.” Alex laughs and shoulders open a trapdoor at the top of the stairs, then steps up into a surprisingly airy attic space. Up here, the sounds of the house fade away, and all that’s audible is the soft creaking of the wooden planks underfoot, the scuff of their soles as they walk, and the hum of a few dehumidifiers scattered throughout the space. The attic is split into multiple rooms by rough-hewn pillars and the narrow slats that would’ve made up the foundation of a horsehair plaster wall. The late morning sunlight filters through the windows and between the gaps in the slats, illuminating the space as Henry and Alex skirt around the elevator cage to begin making their way across the attic. Each attic room is packed full of what Alex can only assume are a few million pounds’ worth of artifacts and antiquities. God, he could look at things for weeks up here without making a dent. “Most of these things belonged to members of the royal family who have passed on,” Henry says, his voice quietly reverent. “Sandringham is one of the few royal estates not owned by the state, so it’s become somewhat of a storage facility for the things that we can’t auction off, donate to a charity shop, or display in an archive someplace. A lot of this holds sentimental value as well, or held it, anyway, for other members of the family who’ve since passed.” “I guess royal garage sales aren’t really a thing, huh,” Alex murmurs. Henry laughs softly. “Not particularly, no.”

[dukeofdelirium]

Now that we are back to our regularly scheduled programming where we talk ish about money hungry people, after hearing Thriller play practically all night without geeking out, it reminded me about the piss poor editing they had in their little movie. One of them was having a clip of Thriller, him saying “And no one's gonna save you from the beast about to strike” and then they get into the bullshit. What a way to make something not about you about you.

And James’s stupid ass said in Leaving Neverland that he was given the iconic Thriller jacket lmfaooooo he said when he visited Michael's and the Jackson’s Hayvenhurst home he was told to pick from a closet anything he wanted and said “I picked the Thriller jacket, of course—go big—and I took it home."

And yet all THREE versions of the Thriller jacket that exist were donated by Michael Jackson himself and are in museums 🤣 the original one was sold at auction and is in the Rock N Roll hall of fame under constant surveillance

James wishes he was relevant to Thriller like the pathetic loser he is.

And speaking of piss poor editing, remember how they tried to manipulate an audio recording of Michael to make it sound like he was obsessed with James ??? When Michael actually mentioned being with an entire group of people and the entire family, not specifically James at all as was proven in court documents lol.

Or what about the manipulated photos of Michael making it look like he was with James alone when he never was??

they deleted bro from the picture 🤣😭😭😭

oh, speaking of the shady editing: remember when James Safechuck made up that whole lie about WEDDING VOWS and pulled out a fucking promise ring with a little box and everything and said he MARRIED MICHAEL 😭🤣 and fans called them out for the editing and then Dan Reed publicly admitted that he staged the shots and filmed that entire “wedding” story 17 months AFTER everything else?

That certainly gave them enough time to acquire wedding rings and to come up with that ridiculous story 🤣🤣🤣

Or how after Leaving Neverland dropped and then MJ fans worldwide started tearing it apart with FACTS, Dan Reed kept editing it and reshowing it on streams and tv and he kept deleting scenes from the moms because they were debunking their own sons allegations? Lmfaooo good times!

Listen, I can’t wait to see what else happens with the HBO vs MJ Estate lawsuit. I hope and pray that Dan Reed is forced to turn over all of the deleted footage, all the BTS shit, because god only knows what kind of lies and coaching we will find if we see that

[lifesteal-headcanons]

This isn't a Headcanon, but a Country (sorta? It's mostly country bc I know a lot about AG & am a red neck so I'ma write about it) AU that's mostly Quag centric that's VERY inspired by a Spanish QSMP-Bridgerton fanfic 😭😭 I just NEED to talk to a wide community of LS fan community on if it'd be worth expanding.

(The Main Families are the:

Pierce-Swagg (Kyle & Ash), Echo (Redd, Magic, Scott, Other Outsiders SMP people ~Kyle), & Damon Families (Idk what to do for Zam's family name so I made a nether sounding one. 😭🙏))

Pierce-Swagg; A Rich family who moved into the Countryside after their Rich Grandmother Died & left the estate in the hands of the two eldest sons: Ash & Clown. Also btw they own a lot of Holstein Cattle & pure thorough bred Horses.

The Echo “family” is a Mobster organization (Kinda like the Illinois Outfits) ran by the Smajor & Mythical Family line with Redd, & His younger twin siblings; Magic & Krow being their public speakers. They appear on the outside as an auctioning place since they own a Sale Barn.

Lastly the Damon Family:

They own two farms that switch out growing:

Soybeans -> Corn

&

Wheat / Hay -> Carrots (They sell a lot, in this world idk if they do irl LMAO)

They're the poorest out of these families, but they're shockingly rich, & their family line are the sole descendants of the Damon Netherian Royalty Lineage. They bought a large estate with two plots of land with gold from the Nether so they could escape the warzone that was the nether.

:3

(ANYWAYS I GTG I HAVE TO GO GET SHOTS BYEEE)

Your's Truly, 🪻👑 Anon

.

[karalynlovescake]

I'd like to hear about Truth Serum! It sounds interesting! 👀

Truth Serum started as a prompt from the kinkmeme, and has been languishing in my WIPs for over a year, but I dug it out recently. The idea is that Burgess tried a lot of things including magic, to compel cooperation from Dream. One of those was a spell that had real power behind it, but was incomplete- it required blood and Burgess was, of course, too chicken to actually ever touch him.

When Dream returns to the New Inn, Hob is so surprised and discombobulated that he cuts his hand on a broken glass and unknowingly completes the spell by getting his blood on Dream.

(Then of course they have to figure out how to Fix the Thing while falling in love, blah blah etc. )

"I do not know. Perhaps." Dream furrowed his brow, visibly attempting to remember. "It was not always possible to hear him clearly, through the glass of my prison. He read from a number of books and scrolls. There was one. Where the words had power. But felt incomplete."

"I suppose it would be too easy if you remembered which book,” Hob said wryly.

"It was. Blue."

Hob sighed. "Alright. Well, I actually have an idea."

--

Hob angled his laptop screen so that Morpheus could see it.

“I remembered seeing the obituary not long ago. Alex Burgess recently passed away after spending a few weeks in a mysterious coma.” Hob looked at his friend, but Dream just looked a trifle smug.

“No heirs; everything is online for estate auction. There are pictures of every item. I can sort just by books. And then, uh, i guess we will buy all the blue ones?”

“Is that something you are equipped to do?” Dream frowned.

“Well one of the benefits of long life is being able to accumulate wealth. And I’m known to have something of a penchant for historical books anyway. If they were still at the house, I’d suggest breaking and entering, but they’ll have been moved to an escrow service of some kind."

"It would be well to win those auctions, lest some other party lay hands on such vile magic,” Dream said. “But we need not wait to have them delivered.  Make a list of the names of the books and as much information as is available about each."

"And then what?"

"My librarian will handle the rest."

[mariacallous]

Strange things are happening in Russia these days. In early October, the country inked a deal to sell chickpeas to Pakistan in exchange for mandarin oranges. A few weeks later, the Russian government advised international participants traveling to the southwestern city of Kazan for the BRICS summit to bring cash in U.S. dollars or euros, as major credit card companies such as Visa and Mastercard have suspended operations on Russian soil since the full-scale invasion of Ukraine began in 2022.

During the BRICS summit, a Chinese official mentioned that Russia is facing “serious difficulties” with paying its membership fees to the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation; the official blamed Western sanctions. As if this were not enough, the comment came on the same day that the Kremlin had to cancel bond auctions to issue nearly 600 billion Russian rubles (around $6 billion) in sovereign debt for lack of buyers.

These examples might sound trivial, but taken together, they highlight how all might not be going hunky-dory for the Russian economy—contrary to the Kremlin’s claims that Western sanctions are ineffective and Russian GDP growth is booming. Like a cash-strapped household pretending that all is well while quietly burning through emergency savings, Moscow is trying to project economic normalcy by tapping into its vast financial buffers.

This is not a sustainable strategy: Without fresh inflows of cash, even the largest of savings only last for a while. Russia could soon struggle to preserve costly social stability at home while waging its expensive war against Ukraine.

To understand Russia’s economic troubles, looking at inflation is a good starting point. Official statistics are fishy, but even without consulting them, it’s easy to see that price growth is an issue in Russia. First, the ruble has lost one-third of its value against the U.S. dollar since early 2022, inflating the price of imports and therefore fueling inflation.

Second, Russian firms are struggling to hire because of the combined impact of a shrinking population; a high death toll from the COVID-19 pandemic; and the war in Ukraine, which has killed or seriously wounded 2 percent of Russian men between the ages of 20 and 50, and is causing an exodus of highly skilled workers. To attract workers, Russian companies are raising wages, again fueling inflation. Third, the Kremlin believes that it can buy social stability by showering people with generous handouts—another inflationary factor.

Central bankers like to raise interest rates when inflation is high, seeking to tame price growth by weighing on demand. The Central Bank of Russia has applied these principles to the letter; since mid-2023, it has gradually increased its key rate to a whopping 21 percent. Russian companies are feeling the pinch. This week, Sergei Chemezov, the CEO of state-owned defense conglomerate Rostec, declared that high interest rates are eating into profits so much that most Russian industrial firms could soon go bankrupt. But there is a catch: Because of its obsession with social stability, Moscow is working to negate the impact of high interest rates on the population.

A recent scheme for subsidized loans provides an example of this. Since 2020, millions of Russians have signed up for real estate loans at a cheap rate of 8 percent, while the government has reimbursed banks for the difference between that face rate and the 20 percent or more that higher central bank rates should command. That policy might well boost economic growth in the short term, but it comes with high costs: Home prices in Russia have tripled since 2020, suggesting a real estate bubble that could soon burst. The scheme also comes with a roughly $5 billion price tag for the Kremlin.

Russia’s bigger fiscal picture looks dire. On the expenses side, war is costly, and defense spending keeps rising to record highs: Military expenses will make up 40 percent of Russia’s public spending in 2025, for an eye-popping $142 billion. (National security and “classified” expenses will absorb another 30 percent of Russia’s federal budget.) Russia is also splurging to preserve social stability. In the next six years, the Kremlin plans to spend $431 billion on all sorts of social projects, including sending children to summer camps in occupied Crimea, building brand-new student campuses across Russia, and raising the minimum wage by no less than 10 percent per year.

The revenue side of the fiscal balance does not look any better. Excluding dividends, Russia’s state-owned gas giant Gazprom used to provide around 10 percent of the Kremlin’s fiscal revenues. Such largesse is over: After losing access to the European market, Gazprom recorded a $6.8 billion loss in 2023, making it impossible for the company to transfer money to state coffers. (Gazprom sent $40 billion to the Russian Ministry of Finance in 2022.)

Things could soon get even worse. In a few weeks, a deal allowing the transit of Russian gas to Europe via Ukraine will expire, cutting down Moscow’s remaining gas exports to the European Union by half and Russian total gas sales by one-third—for an expected loss of $6.5 billion per year for Gazprom.

Russia only has a few options to find new income streams. Sustained economic growth would raise fiscal revenues through higher taxes, but labor shortages mean that this is not a credible plan. A few weeks ago, the deputy governor of Russia’s central bank acknowledged that “available production capacity is depleted.” With social stability a constraining factor, Moscow can only apply fiscal Band-Aids.

Current plans include imposing higher taxes on wealthy households—for a mere $1.5 billion a year, or less than 3 percent of total income tax receipts—and raising tariffs on Chinese electric vehicles. It is not clear what Beijing will think of these protectionist measures in light of the supposedly unlimited friendship that binds Russia and China; Russian President Vladimir Putin has previously called U.S. tariffs on Chinese electric vehicles “unfair.”

With ever-rising expenses and dwindling revenues, Russia is now posting an annual fiscal deficit of nearly 2 percent of its GDP. For most economies, this is not an issue. Such a small shortfall can typically easily be financed through debt issuance. But Western sanctions have turned Russia into a pariah on the global financial scene, making it impossible for it to tap global debt markets. Moscow’s plan B was to tap domestic bond markets, but things are not going well on this front, either. Despite having to cancel auctions this month for lack of buyers, the Kremlin has penciled in issuing $25 billion in domestic bonds by the end of the year. So far, it is not getting anywhere.

With debt issuance out of the equation, Russia is now forced to turn to plan C: tapping into its savings. On paper, such a strategy could work for a while thanks to the vast holdings that Moscow accumulated in its National Wealth Fund (NWF) in the 2010s. However, these savings are now drying up: The liquid part of the fund has shrunk by more than half since the start of the war in Ukraine, to just $54 billion in September. Last year, the government stopped saving money in its NWF. Moscow is now resorting to selling the portion of its NWF reserves that it holds in gold; the fund’s gold reserves have shrunk by around half, or about 262 tons of gold, since early 2022.

Russia is depleting its rainy-day holdings, and this cannot last forever. Even assuming high global oil prices, the Kremlin’s 2024 budget includes a further $13 billion drop in NWF holdings this year, or about a quarter of the fund’s liquid reserves. Looking ahead, the NWF’s liquid reserves cover just around a year and a half of budget deficit. This assessment might prove optimistic: It assumes that official fiscal data is trustworthy—some experts believe that Russia’s fiscal deficit could be closer to 5 percent of its GDP—and that the global economy won’t suffer from major shocks. If global growth were to tank, the Central Bank of Russia estimates that the NWF’s liquid reserves could vanish in less than a year.

In September, Kyrylo Budanov, Ukraine’s defense intelligence chief, told attendees at a conference in Kyiv that Russia will try to force an end to the war in 2025, when the Kremlin could start facing genuine economic problems. This analysis might not be too far from the truth—and it will be useful to keep it in mind as calls for negotiations between Kyiv and Moscow grow louder every day.

[dejavuestateliquidator]

Estate Liquidation Auctions: Everything You Need to Know

An estate liquidation auction is a sale of all or part of the contents of an estate, typically held after the death of the owner. Estate liquidation auctions can also be held to downsize an estate, settle a divorce, or simply to sell off unwanted items.

[queenshelby]

Auctioned (P. 3)

Pairing: Dark!Thomas Shelby x Virgin!Reader/OC

Warning: Darkish Themes, Prostitution, Smut, Eventual Loss of Virginity, Dubious Consent, Corruption, Destructive Behavior, Massive Age Gap

Notes: Damn, I had this in my drafts for a while but could not publish it as I was a little afraid about how it would be perceived. Also this is the first time I used an OC, so be gentle with me.

You settled into your new life at Arrow House, a grand estate where elegance and opulence intertwined with darkness and danger. As a shy and inexperienced woman, you had much to learn about the ways of pleasing Thomas Shelby, the dominant gangster who ruled over this unforgiving world.

The days passed slowly as you acclimated to your surroundings. You found solace in the stables, where the horses seemed unbothered by the treacheries that lurked beyond the estate's walls. Their gentle presence offered a temporary respite from the weight of your newfound responsibilities.

Inside the library, you delved into books, seeking knowledge and distraction. It became your sanctuary, a place of refuge where the stories transported you to distant lands, far from the clutches of Thomas Shelby's demanding presence. 

The library was adorned with antique furniture, its rich scent of leather bindings and aged parchment elevating the ambience.

You felt safe there, hidden amidst the countless tomes that were silent witnesses to the sins committed within these walls. But even here, you couldn't escape the shadow of Thomas Shelby. His presence loomed over everything, a constant reminder of your precarious position.

Alison often visited you in the library, offering her wisdom about navigating your role as Thomas' "possession". Her guidance was invaluable, yet it never seemed enough to fully ease your fears.

The more time you spent with Thomas, the clearer it became that he was a man of many contradictions – tender one moment, cruel the next.

***

One evening, after a lavish dinner party, you were summoned to his office. Nervously, you followed Alison down the corridor, trying to hide your trembling hands behind your back. She glanced back at you with a reassuring smile, reminding you to breathe and find your centre.

Thomas waited patiently inside his office, seated upon his large, comfortable leather chair. He leaned back, studying you with an unreadable gaze. The room was dimly lit, adding to the air of mystery surrounding him.

"Y/N," he began, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through your core. "Tonight, I require your services as Alison has not been feeling too well." His eyes flickered to Alison, who stood quietly beside you, nodding, and you took a deep breath, feeling your nerves calm slightly as you tried to focus on the task ahead. 

Thomas continued, "You have proven yourself capable before, so I know you can handle this." Your confidence wavered slightly as you considered the pressure he placed upon you. But you knew it was necessary to prove yourself to him once again. 

As such, and without words, you approached him, kneeling on the floor in front of his imposing presence. He allowed you to take control, giving you an opportunity to showcase your talents while still hurrying you along since he had business to attend to. 

"You have fifteen minutes, Love. I suggest you get to it, eh?" Tommy pointed out while he opened his belt and then his zipper. 

Your heart raced faster than usual; your hands trembled as you reached out to touch him. Time seemed to slow down, the only sounds in the room being your heavy breaths and the rustling of his clothes as his erection was revealed to you once again.

His powerful thighs his commanding presence, all enveloped you, making you feel like you were floating outside of your body, a mere observer of the events unfolding.

With shaking hands, you reached forward, letting your fingers brush against his skin, feeling the heat radiating from him. You could sense his impatience growing as you wrapped your hand around his hard, throbbing length.

He wanted satisfaction quickly and efficiently. You focused intently on your task, desperate to prove yourself worthy to him.

"Come on, Love, use your mouth," his eyes remained cold and distant, making you question if your efforts were truly appreciated.

"Yes, Mr Shelby," you confirmed before taking his length into your mouth with a mixture of nervous excitement and determination. Your tongue swirled around the head, tracing patterns designed to bring him pleasure. You listened carefully to the sound of his breathing, monitoring the rhythm to match your movements.

"That's it, Love. Keep going," he eventually groaned as hips shifted restlessly, and you maintained your focus, determined to prove yourself worthy of his attention.

With each passing minute, your resolve grew stronger, driven by the desire to win his approval.

Your mouth moved fluidly up and down his length, creating an erotic dance that matched the tempo of his breathing. His moans and gasps intensified, feeding your confidence as you perfected your technique.

Time seemed to warp around you, as if every second was a lifetime spent entirely under his gaze. Your lips wrapped tightly around him, sucking firmly, creating waves of pleasure coursing through his body. With each movement, you felt your power grow, and your connection to him deepened.

"Good girl, keep your tongue firm against my cock", he groaned, his grip on the armrest tightening, his eyes burning with intensity.

Your hands worked together, caressing his thighs, teasing his balls gently. You could feel his arousal building, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Yes, just like that…" he muttered, his voice thick with desire.

Every word, every touch, served to fuel your determination.

As the minutes ticked away, the intensity of your focus heightened.

You could hear the echo of your laboured breaths, the creak of the leather chair, and the subtle click of the clock. Each sensation brought you closer to achieving the level of mastery you sought.

The warmth emanating from Thomas radiated onto your face, filling your nose with the distinct scent of masculinity. His fingers clenched and unclenched, mirroring the turbulent storm of his thoughts and emotions.

Alison watched from a distance, silently observing both of you, her expression a mix of admiration and concern.

"Almost there, Love. Fuck," he cursed, his hand reaching back to play with your hair. "Don't stop now," he commanded, a possessive tone in his voice. His gaze held yours, daring you to defy him, but you knew better than to test his patience.

You kept working diligently, maintaining eye contact with him, allowing him to see the depth of your commitment. Your lips continued to slide up and down his length, creating a rhythmic pattern designed to please him.

"I expect you to swallow every drop, Love," he went on to say before; with a loud roar, he came, shooting hot liquid into your mouth.

Your reflexes kicked in instinctively, taking his seed into your mouth, savouring the taste as he let out a long, satisfying sigh. His breathing gradually slowed down, and he released you from his grasp.

You gently touched his thigh, looking up at him with a mixture of humility and pride, unsure of how he would react. He looked down at you, a slight grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Not bad, Love. Not bad at all." His praise sent a surge of relief through you, washing away any lingering doubts about your abilities. 

"Thank you, sir," you confirmed before licking the remnants of seed from your lips.

You felt a strange mix of apprehension and accomplishment, proud of your ability to provide him with pleasure yet concerned about what the future might hold.

***

Over the next two days, you spent more time at the stables, and even Thomas joined you on one occasion, taking an interest in your passion for horses. 

As he watched you tend to the animals, you found yourself sharing anecdotes about your life before Thomas Shelby. His attention focused solely on you as you shared stories about your family and childhood dreams. Despite the awkwardness of sharing such personal experiences, it strengthened your bond with him.

He listened intently, asking questions about your past, genuinely interested in understanding who you were beyond the physical aspects of your relationship. It was during those moments that you realised Thomas possessed a complexity rarely seen in others.

As you tended to the horses, he observed you with a keen eye, almost as if he was searching for something deeper. He inquired about your love for horses and how it had begun. Your heart fluttered at the genuine curiosity in his eyes, and you shared your tale with fervour. You spoke of your first horse, a gentle mare named Whisper, who taught you the art of connection and trust. It was evident in his expressions that your words resonated with him, striking a chord that few other subjects ever did.

As you shared your stories, Thomas became increasingly invested in learning more about you. He asked probing questions, seeking to understand the motivations behind your actions and choices.

You couldn't help but be amazed by his genuine curiosity and openness. In the midst of it all, you found yourself drawn to him in ways you never imagined possible. The warmth in his eyes whenever he looked at you was intoxicating, leaving you yearning for more.

Yet, you remained cautious not to let your feelings for him run wild. You cherished these rare moments of solitude where he appeared vulnerable and engaged.

As the days passed, you continued to learn more about him, too. He revealed parts of himself that surprised you, and you discovered a gentler side hidden beneath his hard exterior. However, you couldn't help but notice the darkness that occasionally clouded his eyes, hinting at a past filled with pain and betrayal.

It left you wondering how someone so wounded could find joy in a world that seemingly brought him nothing but suffering. As you delved deeper into his history, you uncovered the reason behind his controlling nature. It was a need to protect himself, and he seemingly enjoyed the thrill of being the one in charge.

Taking charge was exactly what he did that same night again when you were called into his chambers, and it was Alison who gave you a pep talk before your impending encounter. 

"Tomorrow night, Mr Shelby wants to claim what he acquired during the auction," Alison told you softly. 

"You will be spending time with him alone. This is what he wants," she added, her voice steady and confident.

You nodded in understanding, knowing full well that giving in to his desires would keep you safe and secure within his domain. 

She placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, telling you not to worry about it too much.

"You will do well; I have no doubt about it. Despite this, Mr. Shelby seems to have a soft spot for your innocent nature. I think it intrigues and arouses him all at the same time," Alison explained, watching you carefully. 

"But don't fret; it's just another aspect of his personality. He enjoys pushing boundaries and testing limits." She smiled reassuringly, offering advice to calm your nerves.

"Which brings us to tonight, where he wants to see us both to ensure that, come tomorrow, you are ready to lose your virginity to him," Alison exclaimed, and thus, as the night fell, Alison led you through the labyrinthine hallways of Arrow House, guiding you towards Thomas Shelby's private quarters. The anticipation and nerves danced in your chest, each step amplifying the thump of your heartbeat.

Finally, you stood before the imposing door, your palms slightly damp as Alison knocked, her knuckles rapping against the solid wood. The sound reverberated through the silence, announcing your arrival. You had not been in his bedroom before and were surprised that tonight, this was where he wanted you both to come.

The door creaked open, revealing Thomas Shelby, his eyes sharp and piercing as they scanned both you and Alison. His lips curled into a predatory smile, and you felt a shiver trickle down your spine.

"Come in, close the door," Thomas said, his voice carrying the weight of authority.

Alison stepped aside, allowing you to enter first. You walked slowly across the threshold, careful not to make eye contact with Thomas, your heart racing in your chest. You followed the path Alison had shown you earlier that evening, walking towards the centre of the room. As you approached, Thomas' presence became more pronounced, enveloping you in his powerful aura.

"Y/N, stand here," he ordered, pointing to a spot near the edge of the large, ornate bed. As you moved closer, the fine detailing of the furniture around you caught your attention.

The opulence of the room seemed to overwhelm you, a stark contrast to the simple life you had once known. Standing beside Alison, you took it all in – the rich fabric of the curtains, the intricate patterns carved into the bedposts, and the sense of power that hung thick in the air. Thomas' eyes bore into you, his intensity causing your pulse to race faster.

Alison broke the silence, addressing Thomas with a calm demeanour. "Mr. Shelby, Y/N has proven herself capable of pleasing you, so what do you expect of her tonight?" she asked.

His lips tightened, the lines around his eyes deepening.

"Well, first, I want to see how receptacle she is to my touch, and then, we shall see, eh?” Tommy said, and your heart raced as you absorbed his words, trying to hide your nervousness.

Alison seemed unfazed by his crude language, her face remaining composed.

"Of course, Mr. Shelby," she replied coolly, maintaining her composure despite the demanding situation.

Tommy's eyes locked onto yours, assessing your reaction. He leaned back against the bedpost, his gaze turning predatory. "Let's begin then."

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the heat of embarrassment rise within you.

"Undress, Sweetheart," Tommy then ordered, his tone commanding and authoritative. With trembling hands, you began to shed your clothes, revealing your body to him for the first time as you stood there, vulnerable and exposed.

Tommy walked towards you, his eyes trailing across your now-exposed body. You held your breath, trying to mask your discomfort. "Beautiful," he whispered, running his fingers lightly along your skin.

You felt your cheeks flush as you met his gaze, a mixture of surprise and attraction burning in your eyes.

Without warning, he grasped your wrist, pulling you toward him. Your breath hitched as you found yourself pressed against his hard chest, the heat of his body seeping into yours. You closed your eyes, trying to remain composed amidst the intense sensations coursing through your body.

"Don't be afraid, Love," he murmured, his voice low and seductive.

"This isn't something to be ashamed of." Your eyes met his, finding solace in the sincerity of his words. You allowed yourself to relax slightly, the tension easing from your shoulders. As your confidence grew, so did the desire coursing through your veins.

He led you over to the bed, sitting you down on its edge. He positioned himself behind you, his hands resting gently on your shoulders. "You must trust me, eh," he whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"I won't hurt you." His tender touch made you believe him, even though a part of you wondered if he was lying. Still, you found yourself wanting to surrender completely to him despite the lingering uncertainty.

Slowly, he ran his hands up and down your arms, gently tracing the curves of your body. His touch was gentle yet firm, stirring both excitement and trepidation within you. The warmth of his touch caused your heart to beat faster, filling you with a longing for more.

His touch was masterful, expertly skimming over your skin with just enough pressure to leave you wanting. As his hands continued their journey down your body, you found yourself growing increasingly aroused. You were caught between the desire to satiate your yearnings and the fear of revealing too much of yourself.

Your mind drifted to the various lessons Alison had taught you, trying to find strength in those memories. You remembered the way she spoke of Thomas, describing him as possessive yet kind.

"Now, listen carefully," he began, his voice resonating with control. 

"I want you to lie down, legs spread open so that I can get a good look at what I acquired," Thomas told you before gesturing for Alison to join you on the large bed.

Alison, ever composed, obeyed his order without hesitation. You watched her, taking note of her composure.

"Come here, pet, rest your head on my lap and present yourself to who owns you now," she said, her language surprisingly crude and dominant, just like Thomas enjoyed it.

You felt your heart quicken, unsure if you could fully comprehend her words. But as Thomas' strong fingers wrapped around your nape, you realised that you needed to submit to his will, as Alison had advised you previously.

So, you obliged, placing your head upon his strong lap and looking up into his penetrating eyes. They were cold, like steel, but there was also a hint of tenderness beneath it.

"Spread your legs wide for me, Love," he commanded, his voice harsh yet commanding.

Obeying instinctively, you extended your legs, feeling the vulnerability of your exposed position. As you lay there, exposed and submissive, you couldn't help but feel the intense mixture of fear and arousal coursing through your veins.

"Look at me," he demanded, his voice echoing throughout the room. Unwilling to disobey, you raised your gaze to meet his steely eyes.

"Do you understand that you belong to me? That your body belongs to me?" He asked, his tone demanding an answer.

Nodding your head, you acknowledged his claim, feeling the weight of his ownership settling upon your shoulders. You swallowed hard, the lump forming in your throat growing larger with each passing second. As you lay there, feeling the heat radiating from his body, you tried to come to terms with the fact that you belonged to him.

"Good girl," he cooed. "Now let me have a look and see whether you are really still a virgin, eh?" Tommy smirked playfully, his eyes filled with curiosity and determination. Despite your anxiety, you felt a rush of excitement surge through your veins. This was a new experience, one that would change your life forever.

As you lay there, exposed and vulnerable, the room was filled with an electric tension. The atmosphere was charged with desire and apprehension. Your eyes darted to Alison, who remained poised and calm, seemingly unaffected by the intensity of the situation. She smiled at you encouragingly, conveying confidence and reassurance.

Your heart skipped a beat as Thomas approached, his powerful presence casting a shadow over you.

"Are you ready?" he whispered, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your core.

Nodding your head, you managed a small smile, hoping it conveyed your readiness. Your stomach flipped in anticipation, and your heart raced in your chest.

"That's my good girl," he responded his approval warming your soul. He leaned in, his rough fingers tenderly tracing your cheekbone.

"Trust me, Love, I will be gentle. I won't claim you just yet, not until tomorrow night," he whispered softly, his warm breath tickling your ear. Your heart leapt, caught between excitement and apprehension. You wanted to give yourself wholly to him, even though doubt still lingered in the back of your mind. However, Alison's assurance that Thomas wasn't entirely cruel lent you some comfort.

With a delicate touch, he began exploring your body. His hands brushed over your sensitive skin, eliciting waves of pleasure you'd never imagined possible before, finally descending to your core to assess the condition of what he purchased.

You felt a mixture of nervousness and anticipation as his fingers traced over your slit before he opened you up slightly. He then used two fingers to spread your pussy lips open slightly, determining the truth of your virginity.

You felt a twinge of pain and discomfort, which only heightened your awareness of your vulnerability. Yet, simultaneously, you found yourself becoming increasingly aroused by the intense sensations.

As he examined you, you felt a strange blend of fear and arousal, a complex mix of emotions that you had never experienced before. The knowledge that you belonged to Thomas, that he could do anything he pleased with you, sent a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins.

"You are already wet, my love. Are you enjoying this?" Tommy asked his voice husky with desire. You nodded, unable to find your voice due to the intensity of the sensations coursing through your body. His fingers were skilled, teasing you expertly, drawing out your pleasure and tormenting you simultaneously. It was a sensation, unlike anything you had ever experienced before, leaving you craving more of his touch.

Thomas's gaze locked onto yours, his expression one of satisfaction and control. "You're so responsive, sweetheart," he purred, leaning in to press his lips against your forehead.

"Let's see how you taste, eh?" Tommy said, wanting to run his tongue through your slit.

You couldn't hide the mixture of fear and excitement that gripped you at his proposal. But as his face drew closer to your core, you felt a surge of trust welling up inside you. Perhaps it was because Alison had been so kind and reassuring, or maybe it was simply your growing desire for Thomas. Whatever the reason, you allowed him to take you in his mouth, opening your legs wider to accommodate him.

As he began to taste you, you closed your eyes, letting the exquisite sensations wash over you.

Thomas's mouth moved skillfully, causing waves of pleasure to course through your body. You moaned softly, lost in the intensity of the moment.

Meanwhile, Alison watched you both intently, silently observing the interplay between you and Thomas. There was a sense of pride in her eyes but also some profound jealousy.

She wanted Thomas to acknowledge her as his primary source of lust, not some inferior second choice. However, she knew that your innocence held certain allurements for Thomas. Thus, she didn't show her feelings on her face, hiding them well.

You, however, were too preoccupied with the sensations cascading through your body to notice her jealousy.

The sensations continued to build, culminating in a powerful climax that left you shuddering. Thomas released you from his grasp, pulling away to admire your flushed face and quivering form.

You looked up at him, the afterglow of passion evident in your eyes. His gaze burned with possession and desire, the power dynamic between you tangible in the air.

"This is just tonight's beginning, Love," he murmured softly, a wicked grin playing on his lips, and your heart raced as you processed his words, anticipation building within you. 

"Now, what do you think, Alison? How many fingers could I get into her virgin hole without tearing her?" Tommy asked, his voice laced with dark desire for you.

Alison raised her brows in a challenge and considered for a moment. "Two fingers, no more than that," she replied confidently. 

"Two, eh?" Tommy mocked. "How about we start with one, Love?" Tommy suggested before asking you to spread your legs wide again. 

As you complied, your nerves became jangled with anticipation.

You looked at Alison, seeking guidance from her as you lay there, exposed and vulnerable. Her cool demeanour seemed unshaken, giving you courage. She smiled reassuringly, telling you that you could handle this.

As Thomas moved closer, his hands slowly caressed your thighs, sending shivers down your spine. He took his time, pressing his first fingers against your entrance, attempting to penetrate you gently.

You cringed at the sudden intrusion, your body tensing in response.

Thomas, surprised by your tightness, forced his digit into you nonetheless.

You cried out in pain, your body resisting his intrusion. He stopped, hesitated for a moment, then pulled his finger out carefully. Alison's expression remained unchanged, unperturbed by your distress.

"You may need some practice, Love," Thomas commented, his voice dripping with condescension. You bit your lip, trying to control your tears, fighting back the urge to succumb to despair. You refused to accept defeat, determined to prove your worth in Thomas's eyes.

"I can take more than one finger, sir," you said defiantly, looking directly into his eyes. Thomas regarded you with a mix of curiosity and appreciation.

"Let's see how much you can truly take, Love," he murmured, his tone hinting at the challenge ahead. Slowly, he pressed his second finger against your entrance, this time applying more pressure. You winced, your body instinctively protesting the intrusion.

Thomas observed your reaction closely, his eyes narrowing in concentration.

As you clenched your teeth, refusing to cry out in pain, he pushed his finger deeper into you. Despite the burning sensation, you maintained your resolve, staring straight into his eyes with determination. Alison continued to watch from the sidelines, her demeanour unmoved by your discomfort.

"Not bad, Love," Thomas acknowledged, his voice imbued with respect. His fingers flexed within you, pushing further in as you tried to bear the increasing discomfort.

Your face contorted with pain, your body struggling to adjust to the foreign invasion. With each incremental advance, you gritted your teeth, silently vowing to overcome the pain.

Alison's gaze remained steady, unwavering, her expression betraying no sympathy for your suffering. As your agony intensified, you felt a renewed sense of determination, fueled by your need to prove yourself worthy in Thomas's eyes.

Sweat trickled down your forehead, a testament to your resolve.

"I can take it," you reassured Tommy again, even with tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

Thomas was now visibly impressed with your resilience. He admired your courage and tenacity in the face of immense pain.

"I know you can, Love, but I don't want to stretch you too much just yet. My cock will take care of that tomorrow night," he groaned, withdrawing his fingers from you, causing a wave of relief to wash over you.

You wiped away the tears, taking deep breaths to calm your ragged nerves. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, trying to regain composure.

Alison watched Thomas's every move with an unreadable expression, her thoughts hidden behind her emotionless mask. She seemed neither envious nor impressed, merely observant.

 You looked at Thomas, seeing something new in his eyes - a hint of admiration, perhaps even respect." Tomorrow night, Love, I will not be so kind," Tommy then said to you, his voice carrying a warning mixed with promise. Your heart skipped a beat, the excitement growing within you before he told you to leave his bedroom so that he could finish off with Alison.

"Mr Shelby, may I watch? Perhaps I could learn something from it for our encounter tomorrow night," you suggested, and Thomas smirked.

"By all means, Love, you can watch while fuck Alison. Although bear in mind that what I am about to do to her is not something you will be capable of enduring just yet, eh" Thomas said before motioning for Alison to come over so that he could fuck her.

She approached him with a cool confidence, undoubtedly aware of the power dynamics between them.

Your eyes followed every movement, absorbing the raw, primal energy of their interaction.

Without losing any time, Alison got on to all fours.

"Very good, Alison. She knows that this is how I like to fuck her," Tommy said before he took position behind her, grasping her hips firmly and pulling her close to him.

He was hard and ready after having toyed with you for an hour, and, without losing any time, he lined himself up with Alison's entrance without giving consideration as to whether she was wet enough or not. 

His forceful entry caused Alison to let out a sharp gasp, her body jolting slightly as she tried to adapt to his unexpectedly brutal thrust.

Thomas, driven by lust and power, took control of the situation, forcing Alison to submit to his desires. Her resistance, if there ever was any, was crushed under the weight of his dominance.

You watched with bated breath, fascinated by the spectacle unfolding before you. Alison's face remained impassive, though her eyes betrayed a mixture of pain and resignation.

In her moments of quiet defiance, she would occasionally look over at you, her gaze holding a subtle challenge. It was clear that she was both envious and threatened by your presence, torn between admiration for Thomas's preference for you and fear of being replaced entirely.

As Thomas continued his brutal assault on Alison, you found yourself growing increasingly aroused by the sight. The erotic tension between them heightened, fuelling your own desires.

You could not help but feel a twinge of envy as you watched Thomas and Alison engage in their fierce, unapologetic union. Their bodies moved in harmony, each thrust eliciting a moan or grunt from the other. Thomas's strength and dominance contrasted beautifully with Alison's feigned indifference, creating a seductive dance of power and submission.

Your heart raced as you observed their fervent exchange, your breath quickening with each powerful thrust.

The atmosphere in the room was charged with palpable sexual tension, leaving you feeling utterly captivated. Alison's performance was a masterclass in maintaining composure despite the brutality of Thomas's thrusts. It was almost as if she enjoyed being on the receiving end of his domination, albeit with a veiled resentment towards you for being his chosen concubine.

As the intensity of their coupling reached its peak, Thomas pulled out of Allison and called for you.

"Kneel and open your mouth. I want you to take my cum" he said, his voice laced with authority. You felt a surge of power as you obeyed him, opening your mouth eagerly, your lips parted in anticipation. Thomas's arousal was evident as he stood above you, his eyes filled with desire.

"Make sure you swallow, eh?" he groaned before shooting his load into your open mouth. Your cheeks bulged as you swallowed, savouring the taste of his seed as it coursed down your throat. The act served as a reminder of your place in his world – submissive and willing to please him at any cost.

Thomas watched you intently, a hint of satisfaction playing across his features. His gaze held a mixture of admiration and possession, making you feel cherished but also owned. Alison, having witnessed the entire encounter, glared at you with a jealous, defiant air.

You held her gaze, unfazed by her hostility. Though you were physically weak, your spirit was strong, unbowed by her disapproval. The battle lines had been drawn, and you knew that your relationship with Thomas would only grow more complicated as time passed.

As you cleaned up, you could not help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Though the evening's events left you drained and sore, you knew Thomas's trust in you had grown significantly.

[sirfrogsworth]

The (Almost) Flood of Frog Manner

If you followed me wayyyy back in the day, you might remember a flood ravaged our basement in 2012.

This is what I wrote about it back then.

It was bad. In order to show you a picture of it I had to convert it to black and white because the color version has a shade of brown that churns the stomach just to look at.

I am still traumatized from having to walk barefoot in that. And I still have a very vivid memory of sitting on the edge of my bed as the water started slowly creeping in and and surrounding me. It literally felt like being in a horror film.

I think my estimate of 6 inches may have been what it *felt* like at the time. I was pretty shaken by the experience and you can see why eyewitness testimony is often shite. Though I think our basement isn't completely level and it was a bit deeper in my room. I just remember my feet being completely submerged as I was escaping.

A few of the pedal casualties...

A vintage Boss Harmonist that had awful pitch tracking which is why I loved it. A Big Muff, because everyone needs a Big Muff in their life. A Fulltone Fulldrive 2 and Clyde Wah. And about 10 others I don't have a picture of including an EHX Mircosynth, Digitech Whammy, Boss DD-5 delay, and a vintage 1977 MXR Flanger—better known as the Eddie Van Halen pedal that made his guitar sound like it was in space.

Everything had to be torn out and washed with commercial machinery. My room was the cleanest it had ever been—scientifically speaking.

In the aftermath, while we restored the basement (another long story), I was relegated to my mom's "purse room."

To make matters worse our air conditioner broke and I have terrible temperature regulation. So I started going mad living in the purse room.

I was convinced one of them was staring at me.

And trying to murder me in my sleep.

So... why am I talking about a 12 year old flood?

The other night I woke up from a nap and saw this out the window.

And it was still pouring.

I started to hear a clunking noise from the basement and when I went to investigate, water had begun to back up into the laundry room through the main drain.

It was reminding me of 2012 all over again.

Except back then I think our pump was underpowered and unable to deal with that much water. And now that we have a much better pump, it seemed to be handling things much better.

I was also concerned because water was leaking in from the basement windows. I guess they were filling up faster than the water could saturate into the ground and the windows are not 100% water sealed.

Just in case, I piled up a bunch of old towels and bed clothes that were in the laundry room (mostly my dad's stuff) and made a moat around the drain that was starting to back up. I was hoping that would hold back any minor flooding if things got worse. I probably ruined everything, but I am still glad I did that even though it wasn't really necessary.

I also did something stupid.

I went outside to look at the area of the yard where the pump is buried to check on it. And I started to go out through our main garage door, but when I opened it, I let in a bunch of water. And that is where we are storing all of the goods for the next estate auction. So, not sure if there is any water damage yet. I was too tired from pushing out water to inspect things further.

I made a little video compilation of the not-quite-a-flood incident.

I'm very glad it wasn't as bad as in 2012. But this is still going to be a pain in my patoot to clean up.

[herbgerblin]

That new job sounds really cool! If you don't mind my asking, how do you end up in that line of work? Is it a case of needing an art history degree or similar?

I came at it sideways. I was job hunting since last October and extremely tired of working in marketing. In February, I was hoping to volunteer or intern at my local arts center. They were looking for people with experience in galleries and auction houses, and I didn't have that. So I started applying to those businesses, and the first auction house I applied to reached out super quickly. It's actually two businesses in one: auctions and film prop/furniture rentals.

If you're studying art history, consumer research, or library science, those skills will definitely make identifying the age/materials of items a lot easier. Having hands-on experience can also be a plus. I have a BA in advertising, which only scratched the surface of art history. But I'm a fast researcher and typer, and I've followed a few estate sales for years, so they took me on. I learned the catalog formatting quickly and showed them how to color manipulate really hard-to-read signatures in Photoshop.

Fortunately, the job provides access to a lot of art databases, previous auction sales, and my boss let me borrow books about materials that I was having difficulty describing. (I also bugged @marywhal a little. sorry allison, I promise you will be the first to know when we sell the uranium glass.) I have been aggressively bookmarking articles about manufacturers' marks on silverware and antique glass, cultural symbols, ceramic techniques, paleography, etc. And I've been checking out stacks of library books on antiques.

It took me a while to understand that this particular role isn't about appraisal, but market taste. An item's inherent value + market demand = sale price estimate. A ceramic vase by a particular artist may be in higher demand in one region than another, so you must account for that. Sometimes really good art isn't in demand. If we learn something cool about an item's history, that's fun and fine. But a sale is a sale. The catalog descriptions have a word limit, they have to be objective, and we have to use buzzwords for max searchability.

We move stuff around a lot in the warehouse and everything is sold online, so I don't have to wear professional clothes. YOU WILL probably research erotica (this past week I cataloged a lot of male nudes and my coworker (currently an art history major) had to catalog a vintage vibrator.) My boss reads multiple languages and will take over anything I can't translate. There's no pressure to understand everything, just as much as you can.

[defire]

Chapter 30: A Rather Unpleasant Night

Content: parental death, magical creatures, fighting, grief

Warren rubbed his hands on his arms as he walked home from an auction, the air much too cold to be out in just a loose shirt and trousers.

That morning, he'd left with some incriminating documents that Flower had sent Nife a long time ago, hoping that the rebels could make use of it. But when he'd stopped at an auction on the way, he’d overheard some upsetting developments his father had hidden from him.

His parents had purchased several new properties and immediately mortgaged them to the Wrys.

“You’re saying they had money and chose to go further into debt for some cash?” He’d shouted. “That’s ridiculous! They would never!”

The poor stranger had just blinked and stammered out,

“I wasn’t even talking to you…”

“Who told you such a vicious lie?” He’d demanded.

Then he’d realized what an ass he was being and stuffed his hands in his pockets, storming off before he could make a bigger fool of himself.

"Way to represent Raizden," He muttered to himself.

The longer it went, and the more things like this that happened, the more it looked like his parents had no intention of buying Nife back; not for a long time, anyway. He was about at the limit of his patience. But this time, he believed he could control his temper, keep from getting swayed by his mother, and maybe convince his father that it was somehow financially beneficial to get Nife back.

As he got closer to his home, rehearsing what he was going to say in soft whispers, he started to gain more confidence.

"You're both very practical people, I understand that," He whispered. "But I think if we can afford real estate, we're not doing as badly as you said."

He shook his head at himself. No, he couldn't say it like that… He had to say it just right if he wanted to convince them.

He came up to the gate, lit by the orange gaslight outside. But the black wrought-iron gate creaked as a breeze blew in at Warren's back, and it opened a little. 

He frowned. It was supposed to be closed and locked at this time. 

He looked around as he slipped inside, and realized there were no guards. Raizden could only afford six these days, but two of them should be posted at the gate.

Warren looked around for anything he could use as a weapon, just in case, though as his heart beat harder, he realized he wasn't emotionally prepared to face a threat inside his own home.

"Maybe they're inside." He thought.

They were.

As he stepped inside the front door, he paused in the entryway, realizing that there were several warm things–people–on the floor, silent and unmoving. His eyes widened, suddenly grasping that he was in a life-or-death situation, and he knelt down near the nearest body. It was a servant–Svelt.

He pushed down a flicker of guilt, telling him he should have been here when this happened.

No. I’m here now. He thought.

He moved on to the next blob, which twitched a little when he touched the body. This one was a guard, so he should be armed. He grimaced and reached for the weapon in the hand of the fallen guard. He picked it up carefully, but the tip of the sword made a small scrape on the ground as he took it.

At that moment, he saw two glowing dots about seven feet in front of him.

Eyes.

[btw, I made theme songs for many of my characters, and this is Warrens's :) ]

They simply stared at him, unblinking. He stared back, completely taken off guard by the glowing. Then the puzzle fit together in his slow mind. Unless it just happened to be here by chance, which was very unlikely, the creature had killed them. He tried to feel the owner of the eyes via heat, but he felt nothing. He mentally cursed his flawed senses.

Suddenly the bright orange eyes blinked and turned away, and he heard the sound of human feet, bare, walking down the corridor–toward his parents' chambers. 

He was about to stand up and follow, when suddenly he was startled by a whisper right below him.

"Run." The guard whispered. "Just run."

"No." Warren whispered, raising the sword and walking softly toward the pitch-black hall. 

As he did, he heard the sound of an impact in his parents' room.

He pushed off into a run, racing down the hall and shoving open their door.

When he saw nothing, he rushed forward, hitting his shin on a couch, and ignoring the pain as he ran around the other furniture and stopped in their bedroom, staring. 

Moonlight came in richly through the double  windows in their room. On either side of the bed were several dark figures, and in the bed were his mother and father, whose blood stained the sheets black in the moonlight. They were completely still and going cold, just like the other corpses in the entryway. 

The creatures turned their glowing eyes on him and he found himself half-frozen in horror, sword automatically pointed in their direction.

They spoke to each other, not turning their eyes away from him.

"I thought we got all the guards."

"That's gotta be Warren."

"Are you Warren?" The orange eyes to the left said.

"What... What have you done to them?" Warren's voice cracked like a prepubescent teen's would, betraying all the panic he'd been hiding from. He realized he'd stepped back, not forward, like he should have.

They were still talking, now all looking at him and slowly moving in his direction.

"If it is, he has incredible timing. I was worried we'd miss him."

"Watch out, he has a sword." That one had a deep, cracked voice. Older. A Druid?

"How can you see in this darkness?" That one couldn't be any older than he was. 

"Come on. Let's just kill him."

At that, they suddenly all moved toward him, all the eyes moving around the bed and giving him a definite impression of where their bodies were. He raised the heavy sword, and sliced it across the first one's temple in the direction of the eyes. It was deep and cut into the bone. The creature let out a kind of whoop as Warren’s strike knocked him to the left, and Warren stepped back, considering him dealt with as the others began to surround him. Whether it was the force of their swings, or just a fighter's instinct, he had a pure terror of getting hit that he could not ignore, and he focused on dodging–many times, just barely.

He kept them back, jabbing out with the sword in key locations, and knocking them back with kicks to keep them from pinning him down. He felt the blade slice deeply into flesh and sometimes bone, and as he stepped back, panting, he felt sure that he could take them all out easily.

Then he saw the glowing orange eyes, starting at the floor, turning to face him and slowly rising, blinking,  and not even a sound or a stagger as then stepped softly toward him again. He saw at this moment, tiny fuzzy blobs of heat near them on their bodies, which faded as they approached. They were where he'd wounded them, but they seemed unaffected by the cuts he'd made–even though some should've been fatal.

"What..." He whispered, then ducked a swing which he heard coming over his head as one of them lunged at him with some kind of blunt weapon. 

Panting, he fought them back again, this time only barely hearing them coming a moment early. If he hadn't been forced to rely on his hearing during sparring so much, he might've been killed here, because they continued to gain on him. Even if he wasn't halfway heat-blind, he couldn't have seen these invisible bodies coming. 

As he staggered backward again, panting and barely on his feet, he watched them getting up to their feet again, as energetic as they were in the first round.

"Hell..." He cursed.

Then there was a soft click and a scathing punch sent him backward into the floor. As something thocked into the wood floor behind him, he realized he'd been grazed with a crossbow bolt. A Druid and a crossbow in this dark would be the death of him fast. They could see him, and he could barely see where they were based on the glowing eyes. He wasn’t going to make it at this rate. He'd wanted to kill the murderers. Now he just wanted to live.

"Damn it. I'm... sorry." He turned and fled.

He had no time for thought. He pushed all of what he'd just seen out of his mind, focusing only on escaping. He centered his mind on remembering the layout of the house, finding himself in the servant's entryway.

He guided himself down via the bannister, laying a hand gently on the knob and twisting it as quietly as he could.

He heard their feet thudding on the floor as they hurried after him, now clearly worried that he might actually escape.

Now that they were further away, he should've been able to make them out clearly, but he still sensed no difference in their body temperature versus the actual air. 

As he heard the killers pounding after him, he raced down the garden path and scrambled over the wall the way he and Nife always had, and ran all the way to an old tower that his family had never gotten around to renovating. By the time he reached it, it had been several minutes of running, and he no longer heard the cold creatures coming after him.  He tried to climb inside the tower, and his body gave out before the second step. He tumbled down to the street below, sat down on the doorstep, and huddled there, wrapping his cloak around him. He felt like a lost child, powerless and alone. He hated it. He was almost eighteen, he was supposed to be completely mature. He shouldn’t feel scared; maybe angry, but not scared. He shivered.

It felt like only a few minutes ago that he had convinced himself that tonight he'd finally go to bed with hope, or at least with a new plan. And now suddenly all that was gone. Everything was gone.

First chapter: next chapter:

Taglist: @tildeathiwillwrite @mimostic @fleur-a-whump @a-n-j-a-maria per Tumblr's content policy, this is the non-nsfw version, but you can find the canon Dance of Death on Amazon and ao3 (which I'm updating shabbily as fast as I can). Also if you want, it would mean so much to me if you leave a review or comment while you're there.

[droughtofapathy]

how do you find these auction estate websites? it sounds riveting to watch/see the various items on display

I've been perusing stage-related auctions for a while now, so I'm on Doyle's mailing list. This company handles most of the high-profile theatre and film collections (and make a killing on them, let’s not forget). This latest round with Jerry Herman was pretty dull, all things considered. Almost no high rollers put in the big bids and there were several lots that went unsold because of low bidding. Not like the Sondheim a few months back. That one had me nailed to my seat for ten hours and raised over a million for the widower.

[snifflesthemouse]

Did I just get a Scoop in MY neck of the Woods?

DID A REAL SCOOP FALL INTO MY LAP TODAY?

Hello You Lovely Readers!

          First of all, I need to say that this author cannot express all the gratitude felt for all of you. This mouse is close to 1000 followers!! I know that is a very big deal to this writing rodent, so thank you all! BUT I HAVE A SCOOP…

          Now before I render the scoop, let me reiterate this is the first time I’ve ever heard of this instance. I would like to say that maybe Journalist Jey told Ashli from the DanjaZone (God, we all miss her, don’t we?) but I cannot recall for certain… I was shocked to hear these things today. Especially where I was and with whom. To find someone from the United Kingdom in my neck of the woods is rare… to find one with intel is a blessing.

          I don’t know the credentials for this cat, but the stuff being said makes total sense. This man was a transplant from England, in my neck of the woods in the States! And his sentiment regarding the Duo was so honest, that he started telling stories I never heard as an American reading via the media.

IT IS IMPORTANT TO REMEMBER EVERYTHING I AM RECALLING IS REHASHED OUT AT HOME, LATER. THIS CAT DIDN'T GIVE ME AN INTERVIEW LOL. I AM PARAPHRASING.

          The first story I heard was something that proves Buckingham Palace was in fact protecting Harry and Meghan. This story never made it anywhere I can think of, and they must have a ton of these stories covered up somewhere. This is the story he told:

          “In the UK, there is a factory that makes guns specifically for when heirs are born. There’s a 20 gauge and a 12 gauge, and they only make one of each for each child. The guns are given to the Crown Estate, as they are essentially public property. William had his when he was born, and Harry had his. Meghan allegedly forced Harry into putting the guns made for him at birth up for auction. Prince William was forced into buying the guns back at auction so that these very rare, and very publicly owned items, could be returned back to the family. As they had no business being sold, anyway.”

          Then, he told us (my husband and I) about how the monarchy isn’t just some people who won the genetic lotto. He explained that monarchy is more about national identity and tradition, and that the entire nation hates them both. He then told us about this part next regarding Harry’s military services:

          “When Harry wanted to join the military, they wanted him to go into something like the Coastguard or even like William did. No, Harry didn’t want that. He wanted to serve in the “real” military. Even though, as an heir to the Throne, Harry knew that he would be costing the taxpayers millions more than necessary. He was never alone in those helicopters. There was a team that went out before him, a team that went out with him, and then a team that came back after him to ensure there was no way he could be left vulnerable. He never once had a risk of life or limb or anything at all whiles over there. It was all a sham. The most decorated member of the Royal Family is a fraud and he hides behind his wife. He didn’t even have military uniform on for the funeral, and that is because he was stripped of it all. He and his wife denounced their duties. He didn’t earn any of anything he did have.”

          Now you all have no idea how excited we were, as my husband knows and appreciates how much this rat loves the Royals!!

          I travel often. I spend a lot of time on the road (compared to the average person), and I spend a lot of time meeting people from Michigan to South Carolina. Yet, I’ve yet to meet someone from the UK (and he and his wife were from Oxford City). My husband has served next to the men and women of the United Kingdom while in Iraq (He was deployed to Iraq twice and Afghanistan once). He already knows how cool the people of the UK are, but for me this was my first in-person encounter. Like I know I sound silly. But it was so neat.

          I want to know what you all think. Does this make sense about the guns? I believe the second story, but I know nothing much about the guns (even though I want to say Ashli may’ve mentioned it).

          The last thing he said though was that he was certain Harry’s kids aren’t getting titles for several reasons (not what you would think and I am paraphrasing here, this isn’t exact. I am remembering as well as I can):

          “Harry is illegitimate.  His real dad is Hewitt and everyone in the country knows it. Everyone passes him off as Charles’s because of his mum. His mum had an affair and Harry is illegitimate. His kids shouldn’t have titles because they refused them for the kids by choice. They chose to abandon their roles and duties and country. Those kids aren’t entitled to anything because Harry isn’t. This is why Charles doesn’t care that he left as much as you’d think. Optics is everything in the Royal Family. Charles loves monarchy more than anything else. He’s waited for that seat for too long, and he won’t let Harry knock him out of it. Bet.”

          We also discussed the differences between our food and cultures, and I really enjoyed the conversation. My husband and I laughed when he said his wife almost left him like ten times in the first two months of being here.

He said, “She went to make meatballs and spaghetti. She didn’t know all the food here has been pre-seasoned and flavored. She’s adding all her regular spices and flavors, and she takes a bite and starts to cry. She said that was the straw the broke the camel’s back. It’s weird in America. You all think you can throw “ja-loppa-nose (his pronunciation of jalapenos)” on everything and call it spicy. I love this country, but I do miss the food and the culture of my home country.”

           It’s amazing the things you find out and learn. He alluded to the fact that Buckingham Palace essentially protected them every step of the way, and they still do protect them.

          So… what do you think about the guns or the deployment story or everything else? I’ve heard that Hewitt wasn’t around until after Harry was born, but who would really know for certain? Anything can be denied and covered over with a good story and a photo. It’s the game of optics, remember?

Remember, the plan was for Harry to leave after 10 years for the transition of the slimmed down Monarchy? It seems there is something going on  we’re missing.

          We’re missing something, right in front of our faces, too.

          Bet… I bet the Telegraph will get a surrogacy dossier or something along those lines soon enough. Probably right after the coronation. Maybe even a day or two before, that way the sensationalism is there for action and Charles will finally have that forced hand he needs.

Until the next bit of cheese drops in the floor,

                    Your Mouse Sniffles.