Battleships entries I'm thoroughly ashamed of
Draw your ship: This drawing was not approved by Nanny
Sink your opponents' ship:
Prayers turned curses (Bates/Vera, rated M)
They should never have married. He hadn't wanted a wife and children, she hadn't wanted a cripple. But for him the temptation of a woman was too strong and the pregnancy scare unresolved before she dragged him before a vicar. For her, it was the temptation of a steady earner who would not be too particular what time she came home.
Now he had the wife, but still did not want children, particularly not with her. When she grew too insistent he would make her finish him with her hands or her mouth, anything to keep from risking another pregnancy. Anything but celibacy, that is -- the only thing good that had come of their marriage was the sex.
His body bore the scars she'd inflicted, and he gave back as good as he got -- bruises and cuts and sprained wrists. Most days he forgot he'd once been better than this, blamed it on his injuries and the marriage he wanted no more now than the day he'd felt forced into it. But there were days he knew he could be someone else, someone noble and true, if only he chose. Those were the days he went down to the pub in the early afternoon and stayed until the barkeep physically threw him out in the wee small hours of the morning.
He would go home then, knowing that Vera would make it a point to seduce him so she could mock the effect alcohol had on his body. He would repay her by mocking her ambitions and reminding her that she'd chosen to make him marry her, that she was now well and truly stuck with a man who had no plans to advance in life and who would never consent to give her children. She would slap him, but he would have already passed out in their bed, oblivious.
There were days she would come home smiling, with trinkets or cash and smelling of other men. He would make her go wash, his hands bruising her shoulders as he forced her into the hipbath. When she emerged he would use her, do anything he could think of to wipe the smile off her face, to silence her stream of words about what men who were not cripples could do for her that he did not.
Whenever he visited his mother he would resolve to find a way out of this life. Whenever he visited a pub he would revel in all the sordid memories.
When she brought home the silver from his regiment he did not see her act as a betrayal, he saw it as a way out.
Untitled O'Brien/Bates
It started when she tripped him in front of everyone. Absolute burning hatred, and absolute burning lust.
He liked a woman who knew what she wanted and grabbed it. It was what had attracted him to Vera, and it was what made him watch Miss O'Brien whenever Anna was out of the room.
The attraction had to be mutual. Why else did she hound him? He assumed it was the female equivalent of pulling a schoolgirl's plaits.
Besides, it had been years and years since he'd known any lover but his own right hand, and O'Brien looked like she'd be pitifully easy to satisfy.
It was child's play to snare her. Late one night, after the Crawley sisters were asleep and the household staff sent to bed, he and O'Brien were left waiting up for their lord and lady to return from a dinner party. O'Brien bustled in and out of the hall, stepping out for a smoke, back
in to throw some snide remark his way.
He watched her walk back and forth, taunting him with her easy stride, twitching her hips in invitation. He'd had enough -- the next time she passed close to him he stuck out his cane and tripped her, catching her in his lap.
"Mr Bates! Take your hands off me."
"You don't want that."
"Course I do."
He moved his hands from her waist to just under her breasts. "No, you don't."
"I don't need the likes of you…"
"You certainly do. Where else will you get a man? Your great friend Thomas?"
"And what about Anna? Thought you loved her like life itself."
"I do. And one day I'll marry her. But until then, I'll not burden her with my needs."
"And you think I'll let you use me?"
He snuck a hand under her skirt and felt the evidence that she would indeed let him. "It's just my leg that's crippled, Miss O'Brien. I think
you'll find the rest of me is quite as healthy as you could wish."
The handmaiden's tale (Anna/Mary/Matthew, spoilers for S2E5)
I don’t know how Lady Mary talked me into this. She said it would help me understand any problems Mr Bates might have and why he's being so much of a gentleman, but I'm certain John doesn't have quite these problems. We have talked about children.
Now that Captain Crawley's been moved to a private room Lady Mary can get what she wants.I don't understand why I've agreed. I suppose it's because I believe what men tell me, and if he says he can't, he won't.
It would be nice to prove him wrong, though, Then Lady Mary could marry him instead of that newspaper man, and I'd never have to worry again what he knows about me.
Lady Mary leads me through the family wing. She opens the captain's door and pushes me in front of her. "Matthew? Are you awake?"
"Mary? What are you doing here so late at night?" His voice is rough. I think he might have been crying.
"I don't think you should be alone tonight."
"I'll be alone tonight, and every night."
"It doesn't have to be that way."
"It does, Mary."
"Please."
"Will you let me alone if I say no?"
"No."
"Fine. At least you don't have to worry I'll ruin your good name."
I feel Lady Mary recoil, but she shoves me forward in the direction of the bed and steps out of the room. The door closes and the darkness is thick enough to pour. I take off my dressing gown and slip into the bed.
He lays stiffly by my side, but at last he reaches out to me. "Mary…" He feels my shoulder and knows the truth. "Where's Mary?"
"In her room, Captain Crawley. She thought you might rather this with someone you didn't love."
"This?"
I put my leg over his, but then realize he can't feel it. I screw up my courage and snake my hands between his legs, but he can't feel that,
either. "She thinks Major Clarkson is wrong. She doesn't believe that you're -- that you're not--"
"That I'm no longer a man."
"Oh, that's not it, sir. I'm sure you're still very much a man. Just a bit limited, perhaps. I understand that. My --" I stop, suddenly recalling
that wounded though he is, Captain Crawley is still the heir and could still get me and John dismissed.
"Mr Bates. Don't worry, Anna, I know. We all know. Is he also wounded this way?"
"I don't know, sir. I don’t think so. I hope not."
"Of course you do. Why are you here?"
"Lady Mary asked me to."
"Do you do everything she asks?"
"Not everything. Most things, though. She means well."
"Yes, she does." He sighs. "Do you really want to do this?"
I sit up a bit, look down at his face. He's a very pretty man. Not handsome like my John, but I understand why the ladies would like him.
"If you're wrong, I make my lady very happy. If you're right, there's no 'this'."
"There can still be a 'this.' There are things I can do which have nothing to do with my legs."
"Are there, sir?"
"You truly don't know?" He seems astonished. I consider telling him that though I've not lived in a sack, I'm no woman of the world, but I know my place. "Let me teach you, Anna. It may stand you in good stead with your Mr Bates."
Just before dawn I slip out of his bedroom and head for Lady Mary's.
Sink your opponents' ship:
Prayers turned curses (Bates/Vera, rated M)
They should never have married. He hadn't wanted a wife and children, she hadn't wanted a cripple. But for him the temptation of a woman was too strong and the pregnancy scare unresolved before she dragged him before a vicar. For her, it was the temptation of a steady earner who would not be too particular what time she came home.
Now he had the wife, but still did not want children, particularly not with her. When she grew too insistent he would make her finish him with her hands or her mouth, anything to keep from risking another pregnancy. Anything but celibacy, that is -- the only thing good that had come of their marriage was the sex.
His body bore the scars she'd inflicted, and he gave back as good as he got -- bruises and cuts and sprained wrists. Most days he forgot he'd once been better than this, blamed it on his injuries and the marriage he wanted no more now than the day he'd felt forced into it. But there were days he knew he could be someone else, someone noble and true, if only he chose. Those were the days he went down to the pub in the early afternoon and stayed until the barkeep physically threw him out in the wee small hours of the morning.
He would go home then, knowing that Vera would make it a point to seduce him so she could mock the effect alcohol had on his body. He would repay her by mocking her ambitions and reminding her that she'd chosen to make him marry her, that she was now well and truly stuck with a man who had no plans to advance in life and who would never consent to give her children. She would slap him, but he would have already passed out in their bed, oblivious.
There were days she would come home smiling, with trinkets or cash and smelling of other men. He would make her go wash, his hands bruising her shoulders as he forced her into the hipbath. When she emerged he would use her, do anything he could think of to wipe the smile off her face, to silence her stream of words about what men who were not cripples could do for her that he did not.
Whenever he visited his mother he would resolve to find a way out of this life. Whenever he visited a pub he would revel in all the sordid memories.
When she brought home the silver from his regiment he did not see her act as a betrayal, he saw it as a way out.
Untitled O'Brien/Bates
It started when she tripped him in front of everyone. Absolute burning hatred, and absolute burning lust.
He liked a woman who knew what she wanted and grabbed it. It was what had attracted him to Vera, and it was what made him watch Miss O'Brien whenever Anna was out of the room.
The attraction had to be mutual. Why else did she hound him? He assumed it was the female equivalent of pulling a schoolgirl's plaits.
Besides, it had been years and years since he'd known any lover but his own right hand, and O'Brien looked like she'd be pitifully easy to satisfy.
It was child's play to snare her. Late one night, after the Crawley sisters were asleep and the household staff sent to bed, he and O'Brien were left waiting up for their lord and lady to return from a dinner party. O'Brien bustled in and out of the hall, stepping out for a smoke, back
in to throw some snide remark his way.
He watched her walk back and forth, taunting him with her easy stride, twitching her hips in invitation. He'd had enough -- the next time she passed close to him he stuck out his cane and tripped her, catching her in his lap.
"Mr Bates! Take your hands off me."
"You don't want that."
"Course I do."
He moved his hands from her waist to just under her breasts. "No, you don't."
"I don't need the likes of you…"
"You certainly do. Where else will you get a man? Your great friend Thomas?"
"And what about Anna? Thought you loved her like life itself."
"I do. And one day I'll marry her. But until then, I'll not burden her with my needs."
"And you think I'll let you use me?"
He snuck a hand under her skirt and felt the evidence that she would indeed let him. "It's just my leg that's crippled, Miss O'Brien. I think
you'll find the rest of me is quite as healthy as you could wish."
The handmaiden's tale (Anna/Mary/Matthew, spoilers for S2E5)
I don’t know how Lady Mary talked me into this. She said it would help me understand any problems Mr Bates might have and why he's being so much of a gentleman, but I'm certain John doesn't have quite these problems. We have talked about children.
Now that Captain Crawley's been moved to a private room Lady Mary can get what she wants.I don't understand why I've agreed. I suppose it's because I believe what men tell me, and if he says he can't, he won't.
It would be nice to prove him wrong, though, Then Lady Mary could marry him instead of that newspaper man, and I'd never have to worry again what he knows about me.
Lady Mary leads me through the family wing. She opens the captain's door and pushes me in front of her. "Matthew? Are you awake?"
"Mary? What are you doing here so late at night?" His voice is rough. I think he might have been crying.
"I don't think you should be alone tonight."
"I'll be alone tonight, and every night."
"It doesn't have to be that way."
"It does, Mary."
"Please."
"Will you let me alone if I say no?"
"No."
"Fine. At least you don't have to worry I'll ruin your good name."
I feel Lady Mary recoil, but she shoves me forward in the direction of the bed and steps out of the room. The door closes and the darkness is thick enough to pour. I take off my dressing gown and slip into the bed.
He lays stiffly by my side, but at last he reaches out to me. "Mary…" He feels my shoulder and knows the truth. "Where's Mary?"
"In her room, Captain Crawley. She thought you might rather this with someone you didn't love."
"This?"
I put my leg over his, but then realize he can't feel it. I screw up my courage and snake my hands between his legs, but he can't feel that,
either. "She thinks Major Clarkson is wrong. She doesn't believe that you're -- that you're not--"
"That I'm no longer a man."
"Oh, that's not it, sir. I'm sure you're still very much a man. Just a bit limited, perhaps. I understand that. My --" I stop, suddenly recalling
that wounded though he is, Captain Crawley is still the heir and could still get me and John dismissed.
"Mr Bates. Don't worry, Anna, I know. We all know. Is he also wounded this way?"
"I don't know, sir. I don’t think so. I hope not."
"Of course you do. Why are you here?"
"Lady Mary asked me to."
"Do you do everything she asks?"
"Not everything. Most things, though. She means well."
"Yes, she does." He sighs. "Do you really want to do this?"
I sit up a bit, look down at his face. He's a very pretty man. Not handsome like my John, but I understand why the ladies would like him.
"If you're wrong, I make my lady very happy. If you're right, there's no 'this'."
"There can still be a 'this.' There are things I can do which have nothing to do with my legs."
"Are there, sir?"
"You truly don't know?" He seems astonished. I consider telling him that though I've not lived in a sack, I'm no woman of the world, but I know my place. "Let me teach you, Anna. It may stand you in good stead with your Mr Bates."
Just before dawn I slip out of his bedroom and head for Lady Mary's.