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#leonor the mother
c28hunter · 6 months
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https://www.instagram.com/reel/Czdh7dFtUgb/?igshid=MWRmM3p1c2hhODh5ag==
It's called the cat's life
Although I have some questions... Why does it sound like a pool? If it's a pool, why is Jure fully dressed???
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spanishroyals · 6 months
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October 20, 2023. Oviedo, Principality of Asturias.
The Princess of Asturias at the 2023 Princess of Asturias Awards.
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what the fuck is the Wire Mother book. Sociology has lore now?
oh boy okay
so you remember the Divergent books? the YA boom of the early 2010's? The Wire Mother was one of those series. they turned the Harlow's monkey experiments into dystopia factions.
yeah. i know. bear with me
The first book, The Wire Mother (2010) is pretty standard YA dystopia fare. There's this girl named Leo Groves (the Leo's short for Leonore) who lives in the court of the Cloth Mother, a city where people live in comfort and camaraderie and a general vibe of hold hands around the campfire and sing, except for the people who die at random. This is accepted with unsettling what-can-you-do calm from the main characters. (Eventually, it's revealed that's happening because only a 1/5th of the food served in the city is real, so most of the people are dropping dead of starvation but their bodies are quickly hurried away as to not kill the vibe, so no one worries all that much about it).
Which could have been cool speculative fiction! A handy story about desensitization to violence or complacency or something. Unfortunately, this was 2010 YA, so the concept is quickly kicked under the bed in favor of. yeah. A love triangle. Leo, being a special little narratively significant thing, finds her way to the mysterious other city on the other side of her hometown, the court of the Wire Mother. And when she's there, she meets a boy. Coil 54810.
Coil goddamn 54810.
That brooding son of a bitch. His last name is 54810 because the concept of last names and family doesn't exist in the court of the Wire Mother, only functionality, so 54810 is just the number of Coils there's been in the city. He's not a clone or anything, it's just the amount of people who've had that name. It's like being named Jeremy 54810. Killer of plot pacing. Swoopy of hair. He would have deserved to be named Jeremy.
God, anyway, I'm talking a lot about this. Anyway: The Wire Mother is exactly as good as the average YA dystopia book from the time period. It has some high points (the Cloth and Wire mother are cool ominously looming entities, and the main antagonist Jane-Mary has a level of batshit mad science energy to her that makes her the most fun villain in the series) and some low points (the forced Romeo and Juliet references. the forced romance. It is so clear that Benjamin St. Jobs, the other guy in the love triangle, doesn't stand a chance, but we have to keep who-will-it-be-ing for so long anyway. And Coil's a dick), but it mostly just balances out.
There were three more books in the series. There was supposed to be four, but. Well
Anyway. Book Two, The Wire Mother: Hounds' Toll (2012), actually kind of slapped. It went to more tragic and horror-influenced places than the original book. One thing I'll give Angela Lee (the author) credit for: I don't think this was a sequel for the sake of having a sequel. I think that the series was always supposed to be a pentalogy.
Some of the stuff in this book has still stuck with me to this day- I have to hold myself back from adding ominously ringing church bells in so many of my projects. Also, it really filled out Leo Groves as a protagonist- I could take or leave her in the first book, but I started to genuinely like her by the second. And the stuff they do with Stellarose Ardent, her best friend turned rival... God, I could make a whole post about Stellarose Ardent.
this book series is good, readers thought. surely the third book will be as good if not better
THE THIRD BOOK WAS HELL. The Wire Mother: Ordained Voltage (2013)...I think it did everything wrong. There was a reason that there was a two year break between the first two books, and book three being out only a year after Hounds' Toll really shows.
It's incredibly rushed. Leo barely gets to do anything. Stellarose is killed off in the most unsatisfying way possible. And while it seemed like Book Two had neatly put the love triangle to bed, no! It claws its way out of its grave!! To torment me specifically!
The only good thing we got out of this car wreck is Anesthesia 3, lab rat girl and apocalypse maiden extraordinaire. I adore her. She's got real Fish Inside A Birdcage vibes. Everything else, though? Horrors.
But readers held out hope. At least the characters ended up trapped in an interesting setting at the end of book three. The merciless, multi-layered prison of Tithonus, the central antagonist of the series. It seemed like that was a good set-up for a prison escape storyline. Those have to be entertaining, right?
Somehow, some way, no. Book Four, The Wire Mother: Endless Sentence (2014) is not just bad. I could forgive bad. But it is bad, and it is boring.
so boring that I'm not even going to waste my words on it. It's a school night. I'm not staying up to describe that thing. The only interesting thing about it is how it could manage to be boring while being an homage to the fucking Stanford Prison experiments.
And that was the end of a lot of people's hopes for the Wire Mother series. Only one good book out of four isn't a great track record, you know? A lot of readers were willing to put Hounds' Toll down as a one-off.
Then, in November of 2014, the preview for Book Five, The Wire Mother: Quantum Claws came out. It was three chapters long. And people lost their shit.
First of all, it was good. Maybe as good as Hounds' Toll. Maybe better.
But more than that, it was a break from the relatively grounded, safe, company standard dystopia of the series. Because this bad boy was going to be about time travel. Tithonus, in his evil plans to live forever, had built a time machine and activated it just at the right moment when the plucky heroes were about to kill him once and for all.
Which seems like something that would be a train wreck, right? If this author can't handle the easy-to-please tropes of prison breaks and romance, what business does she have trying to handle a time travel story without completely fucking up the series?
And maybe that would have been true. But the first three chapters were insanely promising. They were refreshing, original- they got time travel. We were able to get characters like Stellarose and Jane-Mary and Turpentine back after the story cast them aside so soon. And it promised to really examine what Leo Groves meant for the book's world. So, hopes rose again.
Unfortunately, we'll never know if it would have been good or bad. The fifth book was never published. We don't know why. It was just promised, for months and months, and then. Poof. The updates stopped. It was gone.
And it haunts me. If you haven't stopped reading by now, you can probably tell that. The fandom was like a fraction of the size of the Divergent fandom, and I don't know anyone IRL who's read these things. I don't even know if I can or should recommend them.
But sometimes something doesn't have to be a literary masterpiece to burrow into your brain and not let go, I guess ASJSJS
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leonorandsofia · 1 year
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Mother's Day 2023 | Today is a special day for Queen Letizia: it is Mother's Day in Spain!
I hope she had a wonderful day!
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shinmiyovvi · 1 year
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When you realize that most of the OPM band SUGARCANE songs just fit Marcel's lovelife in a nutshell so well you just try not to tear up and start to feel pity for him
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littlecaesar · 1 year
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Happy Birthday to the (literal) reason I exist. The women in our family are all forces of nature, and my mother is probably one the strongest there's ever been. She's a true force to be reckoned with, and I can only hope I inherited some of her good qualities aside from the hair.
Happy birthday mater; enjoy looking at precious baby me everyone else
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leozal1881 · 2 years
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so hear me out, justice for Leonor Rivera....and here’s why
First of all, let’s talk about her mother. Yes, her mother dearest. Okay, I get that you care a lot about Leonor’s safety and all. Not to mention, the family name and reputation, but this does not give you the right to lie to your daughter and tell her that the legit love, soul, and music of her life doesn’t care about her anymore while you’re literally stashing all of their letters to each other. Like, excuse me ma’am, your daughter is currently dying inside! Plus, she was just so willing to marry off her daughter to this random well-to-do English-speaking man just for reputation purposes while her daughter was depressed and fresh from a major heartbreak that, mind you, she never moved on from. It even affected her physical health! She became sickly and weak for heaven’s sake. 
Secondly, Rizal. I know that you’re all patriotic and you’re our national hero. You inspired a revolution, yes and thank you for that. You didn’t know that whole story of why Leonor married Mr. kipping, and you were sad for a little while. But man, as soon as you moved on, you literally went off and got with so many other women while Leonor who has been loyal to you until the end of her life, despite being married to some other guy, was getting sick and weak because of the heartbreak. I mean, is it really that easy to move on?
Third, Leonor literally followed society’s rules even if society was clearly so unkind to her. She married kipping with a heavy heart, she didn’t rebel against her mother’s will, and was a good wife, daughter, and mother, despite her ailing health. To all those who might start saying that she was too submissive and meek, that has some truth in it, but that was how women were trained, taught and raised to be. Leonor being prim and proper made her a dutiful young woman. Perhaps, she was too dutiful, so dutiful that society had put out her spark.
Moral: So ladies of today’s generation, we know right from wrong. We now have better rights as women. Since we know what’s good for us, we should stand for it. We will be strong. We will move for equality and we will not let the cruel judgement of society slowly kill us inside. Our spark will NOT be put out. This is not only for us, but for the ones that came before us and the ones that will outlive us. 
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bananadramaaa · 11 days
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Before I start screaming about your Alastor design and end up on their broken radio again (oops, my bad)
Do you have more headcanons on his siblings and/or on his father? Because your the first that I've seen with the sibling headcanon and I want to know more of what's going on in your head. :D
In my head there's chaos :D
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As I wrote earlier, Alastor grew up surrounded by sisters (it makes more sense to me for his character). There was one more child who died at an early age, so the family may have been larger.
As the majority in the fandom, I headcanon that one of the biggest threats was the father, who's basically just a loser who thinks everyone owes him something (and most likely one of those who blames his wife for the fact that they had mostly girls, their son's "soft" nature was also the wife's fault and that she turned their children against him).
I headcanon that the kids were pretty close in their childhood times. But after their mother's death (it happened when they were young adults; the youngest sister was already a teenager), each went their own way. The eldest daughter(Adelice) tried to make a career in acting. She was a part-time jazz singer at a bar, but was killed by a suitor she turned down. The second sister (Leonore) took the youngest (Bertilda) with her after their mother's death; much later they were both married and found out about Alastor's death through newspapers with headlines screaming, "The serial killer who terrorized the town for years has been shot dead".
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bosbas · 11 days
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Chapter 7: something gave you the nerve to touch my hand
series masterlist previous part || next part
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pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 3.4k words
Warnings: period-typical gender roles, a small part of the dialogue is in Spanish, idiots in love-ish moments (maybe idiots in non-hate?)
Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?
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June 1, 1816 – A few whispers have been floating around about Lord Arthur Barlow’s whereabouts following his escapade with Miss Barrington at the Bridgerton ball, but this author must sadly say that she has no credible information on the subject. The Duke has likely paid his staff handsomely to avoid any news reaching the curious ears of the ton, much to our disappointment. While propriety suggests that his wedding plans to Miss Barrington should be in full swing, Lord Barlow is not particularly known for his propriety, and therefore we cannot assume anything.
Among other Montclair-related news, two of the Count’s children arrived in London yesterday: Lord Philippe Montclair IV and Lady Isabelle de la Torre, accompanied by their respective spouses and children. Is this unexpected gathering somehow linked to Lady Y/N's recent entanglement in scandal, or is it merely a coincidental family reunion?
You wrung your hands nervously in your carriage bound for Hyde Park, not quite able to sit still. Beside you sat Leonor, Philippe's wife, while your sisters, sitting opposite from you, observed your anxious demeanor with growing impatience. Isabelle, in particular, seemed annoyed by your restless gestures, her irritation palpable in the air.
“Y/N, for heaven's sake, it’s not like you’ve been compromised in any way!” said Isabelle, exasperated. “You’ll find someone else, and the Duke’s betrayal will be but a distant memory.”
It was easy for her to say; after all, her own search for a husband had been nothing short of a fairy tale. Unlike the rest of your siblings, Isabelle had had a love match from the beginning, and it only made it easier that Carlos, her now-husband, had strong ties to the royal family. Though her love story had been one for the ages, the fact that it had happened so easily was making her quite unsympathetic to your loss of a Duke you weren’t even properly interested in. 
“I might as well have been! Lady Whistledown is still mentioning my involvement in the scandal, and your presence isn’t helping.” You thanked the universe that your mother was on another carriage with Louis, Carlos, and Philippe, and hadn’t heard you being rude toward your sister.
"And why should we care about the musings of this Lady Whistledown?" retorted Isabelle with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“These English people treat that gossip column like gospel,” said Charlotte, crinkling her nose in disdain. “Though I dare say, Y/N, your predicament isn't as dire as you're painting it," she added, casting you a knowing glance.
"You two can afford to be cavalier about it, being safely married," you sighed, feeling defeated, and turned your gaze back out the window.
As your carriage rolled into the park, Leonor leaned in, placing her hand over yours. “No te preocupes, cariño,” she whispered reassuringly, so only you could hear (Don’t worry, sweetheart). “En todo caso, te vienes a España con tu hermano y conmigo” (In any case, you can come to Spain with your brother and me).
You smiled at her, resigned, but grateful for her offer. As you surveyed the bustling crowd outside, predominantly comprised of eligible men, the allure of Spain beckoned. It would certainly have better weather than London. And at least there was no Lady Whistledown in Salamanca. Though with the seemingly endless sources the woman had, you wouldn’t doubt her abilities to follow you there, too.
Stepping down from your carriage and walking toward the crowd of people in the park, you made eye contact with one of the gentlemen who had called on you yesterday. Though his poem had nearly put you to sleep, you smiled politely anyway. Perhaps he would be the first to talk to you today and ask for a turn about the park, and you would be able to finally relax in the knowledge that at least one person was still interested in you.
Though you hadn’t seen or heard from Lord Barlow since the Bridgerton ball, he still lingered in your mind. He ended up being just like any other man, you thought, annoyed. You hadn’t necessarily expected him to be the picture of attentiveness and love, especially not when you had only known each other a little over a month, but it was still disappointing to see how it had all turned out. 
"Lady Montclair," a voice interjected, drawing your attention to your right. Startled, you turned to see Colin Bridgerton, sporting an uncharacteristically earnest smile.
“Mr. Bridgerton?” you inquired. 
You had thought your dance two nights prior had been a one-time event, a small courtesy on his part, for Eloise, so you didn’t look a complete fool upon your re-entry to society. So why was he here now? Had he come here to resume tormenting you? You weren’t quite sure you had the energy for that today, already feeling the familiar flutter of nerves as you thought about how many men you would have to impress and the intense scrutiny you would face from the rest of the ton.
“Would you care for a promenade?” his voice, a gentle invitation, broke through your thoughts.
“A prom- What?” you said lowly, careful that no one would hear you. “You already danced with me once, and it was more than enough,” you assured him. 
Colin was fighting an internal battle. He was torn between still being absolutely enchanted by you after one dance, and the larger part of him that was annoyed that you apparently didn’t want to speak with him today. Yet, true to form, Colin’s more combative side won out.  
“Well, I don’t particularly see gentlemen lining up to speak with you today, so I rather think you might need some more help,” he shot back. 
You felt your face flush as you gasped in offense. “That is so patronizing. I’ve barely been here three seconds! I hardly think that amount of time is indicative of whether any suitors would like to speak with me today.”
It was true; Colin had rushed to greet you moments after you had stepped down from your carriage. But aside from the fact that he was embarrassed by his eagerness and trying to cover it up, he was not about to let up, not against you. 
“Do you think, for once in your life, you could engage with me without throwing a fit?” he asked you, anger seeping into his words. 
You were speechless, your eyes wide as you stared at him. Your instinct would have been to get mad at him, but unfortunately, he was right. You were struggling to let yourself be vulnerable with Colin, never mind how good of a time you had had dancing with him. But you were too stubborn to accept his offer to walk with him. You simply stared at him, your eyes swimming with uncertainty, and silently willed him to keep pushing you to accept his help. It was the only way you would allow yourself to do it, and you were relieved when he held out his arm for you to take.
“Come along,” he said, rolling his eyes. “For both our sakes, we should just walk to avoid a scene.”
“Very well, then,” you relented, slipping your hand into the crook of his elbow. You were momentarily distracted by the feeling of his arm beneath your touch. It lit a fire inside of you that you weren’t familiar with, and you suddenly found yourself out of breath. 
“My sister can chaperone,” he suggested, gently guiding you toward where his family was situated. 
You could only nod dumbly in response, the flutters in your lower abdomen only growing stronger when he placed his hand over yours. Vaguely registering Daphne and Simon waving at you, you smiled and greeted them, grateful to have something else to focus on that wasn't Mr. Bridgerton's very well-sculpted arms. 
As you began to stroll, the Bassets a few paces behind you, you felt that your voice was stable enough to begin a conversation. “So, Mr. Bridgerton, indulge my curiosity and tell me more about your travels. Have you ever been lost at sea?”
Colin smiled at you, unable to hold back his fondness for you once again, and his breath was stolen from his lips as he made eye contact with you. You looked back eagerly, staring straight into him, and he was momentarily speechless. But you blinked, indicating that you were still awaiting a response, and he realized he had forgotten himself once again in your presence, an alarmingly increasing trend. 
After clearing his throat, Colin answered, “A few times, yes. Most unfortunate was the time we became lost in the twilight hours when it was freezing out, but the stars proved an exceptionally useful tool in helping us find our way.”
“The stars?” you asked, curious. Could it be that you and Colin had yet another thing in common? It was hard to parse who he had been with you the past few days with the man you had a rivalry with practically from the moment you arrived in England. Who was the real Colin?
“Yes, indeed,” affirmed Colin, his voice revealing a hint of excitement. “They’re actually quite a useful tool. Regardless of our whereabouts, we look at the same constellations, albeit from differing vantage points. For instance, if you look up at the sky any of these nights, and you see three stars close together arranged in a line, that’s-”
“Orion’s belt,” you finished for him, your voice soft. Then, seeing his amused, and admittedly curious, smile, you explained, “My governess used to take me outside at night, even in the winter, so I could look at the stars. I know a fair few constellations, and I always like to know which ones are visible to me.”
Colin shook his head in wonder. The universe was a cruel thing, to make you so perfectly suited to him and make you hate him more than you hated, apparently, anyone or anything else. But it wasn’t like he liked you any better, he reasoned.
“I’d wager you’d be a wonderful navigator, then,” he said. “I’m certain you’d never get lost in treacherous waters.” He had to physically bite his tongue to keep from suggesting that you go with him on his next trip around the world. 
You hummed softly in response. It never quite felt like you had a grip on where you were going. Usually, you just felt like you were groping around in the dark, desperately trying to find the right way to go. 
The promenade stretched on longer than anticipated, with both of you engaging in pleasant conversation throughout, and more than a few stolen glances. It was a shock, really, when Daphne cleared her throat politely behind you and Colin. You suddenly realized that you and Colin had been walking together for longer than was typically appropriate. 
“It might be time for Lady Montclair to promenade with someone else,” she suggested gently, a sympathetic smile on her face as she looked at Colin's crestfallen face. Turning away from you, she leaned over and whispered something unintelligible to Simon as the pair walked away back toward the rest of the Bridgertons, allowing you and Colin a few moments of privacy.
“Thank you,” you smiled at him, finding yourself slightly disappointed that your time together was ending. “I’m not quite sure I would have needed your saving again, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”
Suddenly, you noticed a piece of lint on the lapel of Colin’s jacket. You reached over, almost instinctively, and picked it off. Your fingers barely grazed his chest, and his words caught in his throat as he saw your hand reach toward his chest in slow motion. 
The two of you stood still, staring at each other for what felt like an eternity, one of your hands still extended toward him. Realizing your actions necessitated an explanation, you hurriedly brought your hand back to your side again and averted your gaze, avoiding eye contact with Colin.
“Lint,” you explained awkwardly. “On your coat.”
Oh, how could you have done something so brash? And in such a public setting, too, you scolded yourself. 
“I-Th-Well, I-Thank you, Lady Montclair,” Colin stuttered out, his brain short-circuiting from your intimate gesture. But you were already walking away, fists clenched at your sides as he saw you walking back to your family. 
Once more, you were intercepted by what could only be described as a horde of men vying for your favor. But, just like two nights prior, all Colin could feel was a pleasant warmth spreading through him as he watched you walk away, your laughter ringing like music in his ears. 
He knew what that was like now. To have you genuinely laugh at something he said. And it was different from how you were with these men. Even different from how you had been with the Duke. His heart warmed when he realized he had something of you that no one else did, and he wanted to bottle up your laugh and keep it in his breast pocket, forever a reminder of you near his heart.
A short distance away, Carlos observed with amusement as Colin stood there, seemingly transfixed by your departure. Standing beside him was Leonor, who had also been privy to the entire spectacle. The two often found themselves together during family outings, enjoying speaking in Spanish for a change. 
“La ama,” Carlos said to Leonor, his tone tinged with amusement at Colin's evident infatuation (He loves her).
Suppressing a chuckle, Leonor discreetly cleared her throat. “Y cuanto tiempo crees que será hasta que se de cuenta?” she quipped in response (And how long do you think it'll be until he realizes?).
---
In the late afternoon, you found yourself seated by the pianoforte, the pleasant notes of your scales filling the room. Across from you, your mother quietly engrossed herself in a book, while Isabelle diligently worked on her needlepoint. Suddenly, the tranquil atmosphere of your sitting room was disrupted as your butler made an unexpected entrance. 
“Lady Montclair, a visitor,” he said politely, bowing slightly. 
Your fingers stopped playing and you looked toward your mother, who had a questioning look on her face. 
“I hadn’t been expecting anyone. And at this hour? Is everything alright?” she asked the butler. 
His face flushed slightly. “My apologies, I meant Lady Y/N Montclair,” he corrected himself. “It’s the Duke.”
But he barely had time to announce your visitor before Lord Barlow strode into your sitting room, hair disheveled and bags under his eyes. He looked positively ghastly, and you wouldn’t have doubted it if he told you he hadn’t slept in a week. 
He was panting and slightly sweaty, clearly having rushed over to your home for some unknown reason, when he took off his hat and crouched next to the pianoforte bench.
“Forgive me,” he addressed the other women in the room. Then, turning back to you, he roughly grasped your hand, placing a wet kiss on the back of it. You slightly cringed in disgust, not particularly wanting this man anywhere near you.
“Y/N, my darling, I am so terribly sorry for what happened at the Bridgerton ball. It was unforgivable. Except that you must forgive me!” he pleaded, voice full of desperation.
You were utterly confused, and more than a little angry. Who did this man think he was, barging into your home at this hour and demanding forgiveness? You shared a look with your mother, who looked equally as scandalized. 
“Lord Bar-” you started, but before you could finish, he interrupted you, grasping your hand even tighter.
“No! Not Lord Barlow. Arthur. Your Arthur. It’s me; I’m here. What happened with Miss Barrington was a foolish mistake, and it will never happen again. Marry me, Y/N. Marry me and make me the happiest man in all of Mayfair. In all of England, even. Please,” he begged. 
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Leonor leaving the room quietly, and your stomach churned uncomfortably at the idea of having to face this man on your own. You breathed deeply, calming yourself with the thought that your mother remained in the room before you addressed Lord Barlow. 
“I don’t understand,” you said, shaking your head. “What of Miss Barrington? She will be ruined if you do not marry her.”
He scoffed, throwing his head back and shaking his head in annoyance. “What of her? She is not as important to me as you are,” he said lowly. “I do not have with her what I have with you. I need you, Y/N. Please marry me.”
Letting the anger that had been slowly bubbling inside you take over, you snatched your hand out of his grip and stood up, towering over him. “Are you quite finished? You are completely unbelievable. I will not marry you, your Grace, and it is egregious that you would even suggest it. Do you truly have so little respect for Miss Barlow that you would leave her, ruined, as you married someone else? Do you truly think so lowly of me that you thought I would say yes?”
“Barlow, take your leave,” came a commanding voice from the doorway before the Duke could respond to you. 
With a surge of relief, you caught sight of Louis and Philippe standing firm with Leonor at their side, their expressions firm and determined, while she was looking anxiously between you and Lord Barlow. 
But the Duke was relentless, his desperation palpable as he pleaded his case, his words brimming with urgency. He stood up from where he had been kneeling and turned to face your brothers. "You don’t understand. I must marry your sister. I must!"
“I believe my brother asked you to take your leave, your Grace,” said Philippe, voice cold and cutting. “Louis, if you could be so kind as to escort Lord Barlow out.”  
Louis wasted no time, roughly grabbing Barlow’s arm and dragging him away from you as the man protested profusely. But your brother wasn’t going to let him hurt you again. It was bad enough that he had already done it once, but Louis would rather come to blows right now in your home than let the Duke stand in your presence for another second.
As Louis ushered Lord Barlow out of your sitting room, Philippe placed a protective hand in front of Leonor and pulled her behind him. Ensuring his wife’s safety, he turned to you, a concerned expression on his face.
“Y/N, are you alright?”
But you didn’t have time to answer, your father storming into the room with fury in his eyes.
“Was that Barlow I saw in the hall? Can someone give me an explanation?" he demanded, his gaze fixed on your stricken expression.
Your voice trembled as you confessed, still reeling from the shock of the encounter. "He asked me to marry him," you admitted, the words hanging heavily in the air. 
“She said no, of course. And put him in his place,” your mother added, eyes wide and fixed on the doorway still. It seemed that Lord Barlow’s unexpected appearance had been an unwelcome shock for her, too.
Your father placed his hands on his hips, staring at the two of you in disbelief. “Well done,” he finally conceded after a few moments of silence. 
You nodded meekly in response, not quite feeling anything right at this minute. 
“He is not worthy of you, Y/N. A title and fortune are important, of course, but so is honor. And he clearly has none,” said your father, disgust clear in his voice.
You’d heard this speech a million times, but this time the words rang loudly in your ears. A title and fortune are important, his words echoed in your mind. It was what your father always said, but this time you couldn’t help thinking: Colin Bridgerton, whom you had developed an inexplicable fondness for, possessed neither title nor fortune.
But as quickly as the doubt arose, you cast it aside. You reminded yourself firmly that Colin was not the sort of man a Montclair could marry. The reality was stark, and you refused to entertain the notion that such a match could ever be possible. You weren’t even sure that you liked the man, why were you thinking of marrying him?
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theroyalsandi · 6 months
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Spanish Royal Family - Queen Letizia being a proud mother to Princess Leonor
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nexility-sims · 2 months
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𝐍𝐎. 𝟗   ❛ 𝐝���𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ❜   |   THE DEN & LEONOR'S APARTMENT, MID MARCH 1991
❧  𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲  /  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.
   ❛  Outside the bar, a handful of photographers had greeted them upon their departure; stragglers who followed Leonor’s car across the city turned away only when they reached the private garage at Kore’s condominium. The car idled inside while Leonor implored her to have a sleepover. This idea struck her no sooner than as the driver shifted into park but, once it had, she was insistent. Tomorrow wasn’t a workday for Kore. Although a dedicated partier, she was responsible enough to build in a buffer of sorts. Leonor, meanwhile, couldn’t bear the possibility of the night ending. Riding home in an empty backseat, shuffling into a dark apartment, falling unceremoniously into bed … If Kore spent the night, the fun lived on. Even when they promptly crashed, it would be together. It would be only after at least an additional hour or two of aimless chatter and laughter—perhaps with vomiting or hair-braiding in between. Kore relented, and the car soon sped out of the garage and past the sole lingering observer.
❧ moving on, moving forward ! curious as to what y'all're noticing and thinking as we wrap things up ... additionally, family time soon :^) did anyone else forget leonor isn't an only child or just me—
𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓
They fell asleep as the sun rose, and Leonor awoke well into late morning with the slow, foggy realization that she was missing something. She stumbled out out of the bedroom and directly into Vita, who had been stationed nearby awaiting this very moment. Vita met Leonor’s alarm with reassurance. Having preternatural foresight, or likely just common sense, she anticipated the princess may have difficulties arriving on time for the day’s big obligation. So, she had made the necessary calls. Leonor nodded as if in a trance, attempting to wrap her mind around, not that it was handled, but that something immense loomed over her. The impossibility of it was splashed across her face as she returned to the bedroom—enough for Kore to notice and make an inquisitive expression in response. Leonor, slumping to the bathroom, waved it off as she passed her.
By the time they sat down for breakfast, rehashing the night’s escapades presented a welcome distraction. The sun was too bright on the balcony, but Leonor saw only the inescapable image of Mateo’s disappointed scowl when she closed her eyes. If she could laugh a little more with Kore before she departed—before she left the safety of her apartment to reenter her mother’s house, her own childhood home, where her brothers would be waiting—then she would put all of her focus on doing so.
Kore wanted to be serious, initially, however. It was understandable. Leonor nonetheless resisted the idea of analyzing her behavior and putting it some, any, kind of context. Her intention had been to shake off the oppressive languor, and she had succeeded. She said yes to Kore's invite and everything thereafter. If she had also wanted to be serious, she would have admitted what she told Renzo and acknowledged its explanatory power: nothing mattered anymore. It was easy to agree to every proposition if the consequences were immaterial. It wasn't a conscious declaration, but it was a visceral feeling blooming inside of her. Leonor had stepped out of the mourning period and into free-fall. If there was ground to hit, she couldn’t see it. She couldn’t feel it. It wasn’t that it didn’t exist; it did, but the threat of impact didn’t inspire anything in her. Once, it would have terrified.
In this new reality, whether permanent or transitory, indifference was the baseline to which she returned. She dreaded facing her brothers amid their mother’s belongings because it would replace the emptiness with something more durable than last night’s euphoria had been. She grinned and chuckled with Kore now, remembering the night with fondness, but those feelings were fading already. Her apathy receded only to flood in anew. Later, in the aftermath, the grief would sneak up on her. It would cast a shadow as she held items imbued with memories in her hands, promising to curl and crest and crash. When it did crash over her, it would be, not while she was in the house alongside Mateo and Gil, but when she was alone again. It would be expected but unpredictable. It would be familiar yet somehow, as had been the case for weeks, feel so raw as to be entirely new. Then, it would be over, and she would be left beached and inert while life carried on around her.
Leonor comforted herself as she dressed for the day with a rosier pronouncement of the future: Renzo’s hideaway wasn’t a dream, and she could retreat there in search of a jolt of excitement anytime she liked.
TRANSCRIPT:
LEONOR | It’s not like that, Kore. KORE | Lying through your teeth! Maybe for someone else— LEONOR | That’s so unfair.
KORE | [Laughs] Don’t even dispute it. Whoever that was last night, I’ve never met her before. Doesn’t mean I didn’t like her! I did. I wouldn’t mind seeing her again. However—
LEONOR | I can’t explain it. It’s cliche. I just—possibly for the first time ever—didn’t think too much about what I was doing and had fun.
KORE | Good euphemism for fucking a stranger in a public bathroom— LEONOR | I wasn’t talking about just that, but— [Both laugh]
KORE | Seriously, though. I mean it. I wasn’t trying to play matchmaker. That wouldn’t be good for you right now, especially so soon after how things ended with—
LEONOR | [Groans] Will you listen to me? That wasn’t even the highlight of the night. I thought you’d be proud.
KORE | [Chuckles] It’s just hard to believe, that’s all. You’re not unfun, but you definitely aren’t, you know, easygoing. LEONOR | I know. It was like a dream. But you know what? KORE | Hm?
LEONOR | You better get used to it. I’m changed. Different now.
KORE | [Laughs] Oh, someone had too much fun! Whoever dragged you out of your depression den deserves something nice for her efforts—maybe a roomful of roses or a new watch!
LEONOR | Not a matchmaker, she says, and yet …
KORE | I now pronounce you Princess Nora and Princess Nora’s New Favorite Hangout Spot. LEONOR | Ripped from tomorrow’s headlines, I’m sure. KORE | The nice ones. [Leonor scoffs]
LEONOR | [Sighs] … I should leave. KORE | You’re already late—at least eat your breakfast.
LEONOR | I did. KORE | You pushed it around the plate. Take some fruit to go? LEONOR | I’ll see you later this week. Thanks for staying with me last night. Hang out as long as you like, okay?
KORE | I hope it goes well. Give the boys my best wishes.
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c28hunter · 5 months
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sending some jure with a tiara on your way
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I'm not good with words (at all), but I want you to know that I wish things get better for you
<3
Jure for my soul, than you <3
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woundedtolove · 10 months
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Hi, i'm sorry this is so out of the blue but would you mind sharing sadomasochistic literature recs pls? I love your other rec lists<33
yo not out of the blue at all. i realise i post a lot of content related to sm.
for fiction: besides the obvious bataille, you should look into colette peignot's collected writings under the name laure.
for some rewritten material on her there's kathy acker's my mother demonology. but everything by kathy acker relates to the subject: blood and guts in highschool, empire of the senseless.
(sidenote from an interview w kris kraus on her biography: According to Eleanor Antin, Kathy worked at a massage parlor in Solana Beach for a while, and she did not give massages. [...] She was also, at the same time, tutoring Latin. / If she didn’t give massages, what did she do? / Well, hand jobs, probably.)
another classic but story of o written by pauline réage plus its beautiful illustrations by leonor fini. it's actually said her fantastical owl masks inspired the character of o + she was really close to andré pieyre de mandiargues, whose one story la marge was adapted by walerian borowczky in immoral tales. then there's sacher masoch's venus in furs. you've probably already heard of anais nin's delta of venus.
i specifically highly rec mary gaitskill. bad behaviour is a great short story collection - one of the stories specifically inspired the film secretary (2002). her essay, the trouble with following the rules, on rape culture and agency published in harper's bazaar (later repub in somebody with a little hammer) is one rare occurrence of nuance and grace accorded to women who've had sexual experiences that are difficult to categorise. it gives a rundown of the ways she personally relates to feminist scholars on the subject too.
there's problems by jade sharma. for a more modern story of the eye, try ryu murakami's ecstasy.
for non-fiction (disclaimer that i mostly haven't read these but they are on my list):
gilles deleuze, masochism: coldness and cruelty ; avgi saketopoulou, sexuality beyond consent ; virginie despentes, king kong theory
if you're similarly interested in boundary-pushing experiences, the limits of the body, attraction to the horrific (i getchu) this is moreso sociology, aesthetics, psychoanalysis focused:
elaine scarry, the body in pain ; anne dufourmantelle, in praise of risk ; sylvère lotringer, overexposed: perverting perversions ; umberto eco, on ugliness
other media: the podcast drunk church, the director catherine breillat.
hope this is of help & if you read anything tell me how it went. i'm always looking for more stuff on the subject too.
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charlotte-of-wales · 4 months
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Happy 80th birthday to Queen Silvia of Sweden!
Born on 23 December 1943, Silvia Renate Sommerlath is Queen of Sweden as the wife of King Carl XVI Gustaf. She has held this title since her marriage to Carl Gustaf in 1976.
Silvia Renate Sommerlath was born in Heidelberg, Germany, as the only daughter of a German father and a Brazilian mother.
Silvia met Crown Prince Carl Gustaf during the 1972 Summer Olympics in Munich. He and Silvia announced their engagement on 12 March 1976 and were married three months later, on 19 June 1976 in Stockholm Cathedral. The wedding was preceded, the evening before, by a Royal Variety Performance, where the Swedish musical group ABBA performed "Dancing Queen" for the very first time, as a tribute to Sweden's future queen.
The King and Queen of Sweden have three children - Crown Princess Victoria, Prince Carl Philip and Princess Madeleine - and eight grandchildren - Princess Estelle, Prince Oscar, Prince Alexander, Prince Gabriel, Prince Julian, Princess Leonore, Prince Nicolas and Princess Adrienne.
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leonorandsofia · 6 months
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Princess Leonor Week 2023
day three: family ↳ queen letizia & princess leonor
"when she speaks of you, a mother's love outshines it all. her love for you is more real than anything else in this world, because it doesn't come from this world."
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armoricaroyalty · 4 months
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November, 2017. Thanks to public interest in its youngest members, the Armorican royal family is riding high on a wave of unprecedented popularity. Support for the monarchy is at all-time high, but life under the microscope could push them to the limit…
Previous | Chapter Start | Beginning | to be continued…
Crown Princess Rosalind asks her father, Andre, King of the Armoricans for permission to propose to her girlfriend, Mary Yokoyama. Andre accedes to the match, and an elated Rosalind carries her joy into a meeting with her best friend/professional underling Theo Adams (who is also her younger brother's ex). From Theo, Rosalind learns that she is the subject of a new book by famed royal journalist Kristina Greene.
Meanwhile, Prince Frederick and his girlfriend Lady Emily are staying in Uspana and aiding in preparations for the Armorican's upcoming state visit. Emily is eager to become engaged, but Freddy is distracted by his frustrations with his family, particularly his younger brother, Prince Jacques.
Jacques has pulled out of the trip last-minute, but his wife, Vivienne, Duchess of Laye is still attending. He berates her for her clothing choices as she prepares with the trip, and the argument culminates in an incidence of physical violence, the first in their marriage.
Things are similarly strained between Andre and Queen Elise. Andre is planning to use the Uspanian trip to spend time with his mistress, Leonor Reyes, a princess of Uspana. Elise delivers an ultimatum: if Andre does not end his relationship with Leonor, she will file for divorce. Shaken but unable to defend his actions, Andre spends the night alone.
After arriving in Uspana, Vivi strikes up a conversation with the charming Julian Reyes, grandson of the formidable Queen Beatriz of Uspana. While Julian's uncle, Crown Prince Arnaut, scolds him for engaging in a dangerous flirtation with a married woman, Andre meets with Beatriz who suggests that he abdicate.
That night, the families convene for a formal state dinner, followed by a dance. Freddy and Emily share a tender moment on the dance floor while Vivi and Julián dance and flirt, deepening their attraction. Andre attempts to council Rosalind about the seriousness of her position and her relationship with Mary, but she grow suspicious when he begins to speak regretfully of the mistakes he has made in his relationship with her mother.
Andre and Leonor retreat to his room and have an intimate moment while Rosalind calls Mary, who is in Aducia, tracking down Freddy's ex-girlfriend Kelly Farrier and her young son, Arthur Farrier. Having illicitly secured a DNA sample for a paternity test, Mary is due to join the rest of the Armoricans in Uspana.
The next day, Freddy has a meeting with Theo. The two tour the museum exhibit he worked to create and rekindle their friendship, ending on a playful, affectionate note. Mary, meanwhile, is ambushed by the paparazzi at the airport -- someone has leaked news of her relationship with Rosalind and the sordid details of her first marriage, which ended with the mysterious disappearance of her still-missing husband. Pursued by the press, she flees to the safety of Nakawe palace, where she takes refuge with Rosalind. The two agree to an engagement but decide that they must find a "bigger story" to bury the scandalous story about Mary's past. The couple meet with Freddy and Emily, urging him to propose to divert media attention away from themselves. Freddy is reluctant, but ultimately decides to propose after a heart-to-heart with his father. Emily accepts, and the couple announce their engagement to the delight of the nation.
Mary and Rosalind attend their first public event as a confirmed couple, but most of the media focus remains on Freddy and Emily. Leonor persuades Andre not to veto the couple's relationship. After a false start, Vivi and Julián act on their attraction and have sex in her hotel suite.
The next morning is the Armoricans' final day in Uspana. Leonor and Andre part on a melancholy note, unsure when they will see one another again.
After returning to Armorica, Theo ends her relationship with line cook Rob Lewis. He goes to a bar to drown his sorrows and drunkenly agrees to an interview with Kristina Greene. Vivi returns to her marital home, and reconciles with Jacques. Andre returns home to Elise and informs her of his decision to end their marriage.
In the epilogue, Rosalind and Mary break into Kelly's apartment. DNA testing has confirmed that Arthur is Freddy's son, and the two break into her apartment to coerce her into signing an NDA and accepting a large annuity in exchange for her silence.
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