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dxstopiaa · 1 year

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Could I request dom albedo , alhaitham or dottore with submissive nervous and sensitive puppy hybrid gn reader ^-^ honestly just a cute little pathetic mutt <3

characters: dom! character x gn! hybrid! reader warnings: degradation, mentions of heat, aphrodisiac, bondage. [this is very VERY far from my usual writing style and preferences but…first time for everything? i hope it’s to your expectations anon! i tried.. \(^ヮ^)/]

albedo

⊹ Albedo most definitely vows to investigate every inch of you— who’s so sexually aroused all the time, as if you were held in the locked grasp of a permanent rut.

⊹ His expression is cold as ever, pulling your limbs into all sorts of exposing positions and yet he still remains with that distant look. That is, until he sees it fit to inject you with all sorts of alchemical substances.

⊹ Within minutes you’re already whimpering, making a mess of your bare groin, nipples perky and hypersensitive to even the briefest of touches. Don’t fret too much— a responsible alchemist always has a antidote at hand. Not that he’ll end up using it.

⊹ Cry and whine as much as you’d like, for Albedo continues to stroke your erogenous areas, he’s most fond of your ears, droopy and downcast from the momentary neglect.

⊹ He’ll finally sink you down onto his cock when he becomes too hard to hear himself, muttering how desperate and immature you truly were. You can’t do anything but slouch your pathetic, little self against his shoulder as he fucks you for the chase of his own release.

⊹ Abandon the idea of finishing alongside him, before you know it your boyfriend will pull out and retrieve his clipboard for his observations without giving you a chance to cum. Consider it punishment for your slutty behaviour. It’s harsh or nothing at all, believe me, he’s doing you a favour.

“You’re so warm, is it the aphrodisiac or just the effect i have on you? Never mind, I wouldn’t want to worry your diminutive brain.”

alhaitham

⊹ He’s all you’ve been thinking of since that dream. A cynical scholar who wouldn’t give a care to anyone else, you’re an exception it seems. You’re always so clingy, latching onto his bicep with your tail swinging excitedly when he doesn’t retaliate.

⊹ Alhaitham— the man who’s making you sit in his lap, shoving an erotic novel he caught you reading earlier into your hands. Someone needs to tell you how to control your sex drive, he thinks. His large, calloused hands stroke gentle ministrations along your crotch, watching you lose your words.

⊹ An anxious, stuttering mess you were. The whole situation sprouted the idea of grinding against his thighs, so much so that concentration had been discarded long ago. You’re trying your hardest.

⊹ He’s shaming you at this point, sarcasm and mockery dripping with every word that fell out of his filthy mouth. Well-versed in vocabulary, even more so with sex. You can’t even say a complete sentence. How piteous.

⊹ Now it seems you’ve pushed him along further, he’s reenacting what you’ve read so far, a meagre amount. If you can’t say it, you can’t have it. You emit broken sobs as he taunts his dick at your hole, yet makes no move. You attempt to push him in with your hips yet that only earns a tug to your nipples.

⊹ Your ears perk up with every half thrust he finally initiates, the scandalous sound of your thighs hitting his lap desperately. Alhaitham thinks it’s adorable, you’re so out of touch with your own emotions he has to fuck them back into your body.

⊹ You find yourself covering your face with embarrassment at the shameful names he calls you, tugging on your tail when you don’t respond to him on whether you like them or not. Poor thing, you’re just forced to say yes!

“You want what? Sorry, i can’t hear you with all this whimpering, read louder, little puppy.”

dottore

⊹ A mere test subject you were, but Dottore finds himself playing favourites. You’re just so cute, the first to please and do as he asks. It’s almost like you’re begging him to fuck you on display. Of course, he’ll do just that.

⊹ The Doctor adores making a fool out of a doll like you, purposely making you suck his thick cock infront of the other subjects, rubbing your ears and relishing in the downright sinful moans it coaxes out of you, vibrating all along his dick.

⊹ He will strip you naked, crimson eyes scrutinising your perfect figure for anything to tease you about. If he finds none, Dottore’s bound to leave bruised lovebites on your inner neck.

⊹ If you dare to flinch the slightest at his degrading remarks, the harbinger will command you to sit on his lap as he lightly pulls your tail and spanks your plush ass, a desirable role model of obedience for the other prisoners, but now he thinks he’ll keep you for himself.

⊹ You’re his private slut at this point, you reside in his office curled up on his bed. Whenever you feel like your heat is approaching, Dottore will already have your legs spread wide on the sheets.

⊹ Thicker wires of rope and metal rubbed over your skin, keeping you hostage in the doctor’s merciless grasp. You’d never know what he’d like to try on you next.

“Are you that desperate? Do all bitches like you not know how to control themselves? Hah!”

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tenseoyong · 1 year

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Aemond loves his little family.

He keeps a watchful eye over his children, making the royal guards seem redundant. Aemond often recalls the ridicule and embarrassment he’d faced as a child—and the resulting accident—and makes it a personal matter to maintain a keen eye over how the children behave towards each other, or how other children in the keep interact with his family.

Rarely does he let his half-sister and his nephews interact with his happy little family.

The Prince is unusually involved in his children’s lives for someone of his station—the responsibility typically laying with that of wet nurses and his lady-wife’s handmaidens—yet Aemond does it anyways.

He personally oversees their studies, and has taken the task upon himself of teaching his children High Valyrian—carefully correcting mispronunciations and gently calming them when their frustrations grow.

Aemond refused to be to his children what his own father was to him—neglectful and uninterested or show obvious favoritism for one over the masses—Aemond made sure all his children felt equally as loved and cherished, in their own ways of course.

His eldest son—Vaemon—was very much the warrior every royal family hoped the first born male would be. Aemond had a little wooden sword crafted and in the small boy’s hand before the child could fully walk.Aemond was often spotted training with the young lad, teaching his heir proper techniques and how to find and use one’s advantages.

A few years behind his first born, came Vaenya. Undoubtedly his scholar in the making. The young girl would rarely be found without a book in her grasp; Aemond would gift her with every newly published book he could get his hands on, though, she greatly favorite those of the world’s history—much like her father—and Aemond would enjoy quiet evenings spent by candlelight, the two of them pouring over ancient texts. Often, Aemond would teasingly correct her posture, “Slouching is unbecoming of a Princess~”

His darling Haelera, who—affectionately named after his sweet sister—had somehow managed to gather the same odd fascination with all things creepy-crawly, still felt her father’s warm love. Though, you could say she was a lover of animals in general, it was much easier to come across bugs of various types than an odd dog or cat in the Red Keep. Aemond listening intently to every little insect fact his darling daughter brought to his attention, and would often return from his Princely duties with a jar containing a random bug much to Haelera’s delight.

And Little Raenar could just barely toddle after his older brother and his father, yet Aemond was insistent on bringing the infant as he and Vaemon trained. Aemond supposed the young babe simply liked the sounds of metal—if the light on his face and the happy giggles that floated through the training yard each time Aemond blocked one of Vaemon’s attacks were anything to go by—but the babe seemed to enjoy the activity, or his brother and sire’s company either way, and Aemond was content with including him even if his little mind wasn’t entirely sure what was happening.

Aemond personally picks each and every dragon egg that would be placed in his children’s cradles. And while, thankfully all eggs did hatch, Aemond did harbor a bit of fear that one of his children would be left to suffer a fate similar to his as a dragonless Targaryen—and vowed he’d not have them ridiculed as he once was, that he’d comfort and adore them regardless.

He relishes in teaching his children to be dragon riders. To see the ease and joy on their faces after a their first ride, to see they have what should have been his—gaining a dragon-bond at birth, and not having to lose a part of themselves in order to gain something by sheer determination—Aemond delights in taking his little clan on family rides.

Aemond would not see his little family crumble and become scattered in the winds as his extended family had been in his youth. He insists upon the family being together during every meal, not that you’d ever begin to think of denying him that—the family being as tight knit as it was—Aemond enjoyed hearing about each member of his family’s daily activities and growing interests.

He would never be more grateful to anyone more than he was to his Lady-Wife for giving him something he’d never truly had before—the gift of family—darling children that loved each other as much as their father loved them.

Aemond Targaryen loves his little family.

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matcha-dango · 1 year

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Equivalence and Obligations

Yan!Zhongli x F!Reader [nsfw] /// PART TWO HERE

CW : yandere themes / smut / dubcon / big power imbalance / porn with (long) plot

Word Count : 4153

800. 250. 1240. 733. 10869.

That was last week.

560. 400. 3080. 991.

That was for this week, until now.

You were counting the various amounts of mora you had have lent recently. Not that you didn’t like the person who borrowed some money from you, but you had the feeling that you weren’t going to get a single mora back. After all, you didn’t actually ‘lend’ it but you ‘paid’ for someone else, who every single time didn’t have anything in his pockets. Zhongli, as good as his company can be, never brings mora with himself, even when he was the one to invite you.

Nonetheless, it didn’t bother you as much, since you had the means to sponsor your rendez-vous. Ever since you were a little kid, you’ve always wanted to be an adventurer and since it was quite a viable career, your parents supported you – as long as you promised to not make them too worried about your wellbeing. Fighting slimes, hilichurls or whopper flowers has always been a thrilling experience. Bigger ones like Ruin Guards or Ruin Hunters were more challenging but the pride of victory was always worth it, especially as you did not wield any vision. As bitter you could be, you vowed to become on par with anyone who was blessed with one, with your trusted weapon only.

Still, you secretly wished to obtain a Geo vision one day, due to how much admiration you’ve had for Rex Lapis, Liyue’s revered Archon. Thus, even if you couldn’t fight using the Geo element, you had the choice when picking a weapon and yours was a polearm, just like his. Of course, obtaining Rex Lapis’ sacred weapon, Vortex Vanquisher, was no easy task. That is why you often paid visits to Master Zhang, the local blacksmith, so he could repair yours from occasional scratches but also make it look as close as possible to your fantasy. A dream is a dream, as long as it kept you going. At least, that was what you thought to yourself when doubt filled your heart.

One not so particular afternoon, you met Zhongli at Master Zhang’s place. Rumours about him had long reached your ears but you never had the opportunity to meet him face to face, being too busy on the battlefield and completing various commissions from citizens. He couldn’t help but notice the singularity of your spear, so he asked you a question. Then two. Then three. Before you could heed the change of scenery in the vast sky above you, the sun hid and the moonlight shone bright. Even though almost all citizens of Liyue knew about Rex Lapis, no one, even the most renown scholars, was as versed as Zhongli in the matter. Letting such opportunity go to waste was not an option, thus you offered him to drink some tea near Chihu Rock and maybe listen to some fables by the storyteller performing there.

Zhongli had met numerous Rex Lapis admirers, even truly loyal devotees, but your vigorous interest made him interested in you in return. His true identity was no public matter, as he wished to watch his land prevail without him, like a parent watching his well grown child achieve goals and dreams without his constant presence. Therefore, fighting off the urge to give you some hints was quite crucial if he firmly wished to remain incognito. Though, keeping one secret did not mean he couldn’t converse with you on some lesser-known parts of Liyue and Rex Lapis’ history, to your greatest delight. Your faces, your expressions, your reactions, all of that made him feel warmer inside, as well as quite gratified.

He himself had all the time in the world, but you had your own duties, so you had to leave after chatting for what seemed like hours and hours. You promised to meet each other some day later, so it wasn’t truly a good bye.

Each encounter brought you much joy, as you’ve never had the occasion to talk that much about your idol. People usually grew tired after some time, but Zhongli gave you the impression that he wouldn’t be the one to stop you, but that it will have to be you to stop him before you fall asleep. But, you doubted you could ever get bored when talking about someone as great and magnificent as Rex Lapis and you made sure your interlocutor knew. You noticed Zhongli’s eyes would have a faint look of satisfaction when you praised Liyue’s Archon, but you always assumed that it was because he was also a man of culture, who could appreciate Rex Lapis’ grandeur and glory. Unfortunately, time was never on your side so you had to make plans for another time to continue the conversation, and that every time you had met up.

Meeting Zhongli meant talking endlessly about Rex Lapis, but it also meant spending mora to make it more enjoyable for you two. Though, your true motive was to make sure Zhongli would get something out of this and to somehow encourage him to accept meeting you in the future. Just in case he would be hesitant. Truth is, Zhongli would never decline any of your invitations, on the contrary. Scholars can be entertaining, especially when they bring up a different take on history, but none of them was half as invested as you showed yourself to be. So, why not let you have your fun, if it brings no harm to anyone ?

Although it was indeed quite enjoyable to spend time with you, what was less enjoyable is the feeling of a lack of reciprocation. Yes, he fuelled your thirst for knowledge about your beloved Archon, but you also kept buying all sorts of meals and that for a few weeks by now. Your unrivalled devotion had different effects on him, some of them became clear to him over time. As the God of Contract, this was not an equivalent exchange and he had to change that. Moreover, he had a good idea of how he could repay you.

After Liyue’s Lantern Festival, the harbour regained its initial peaceful yet energetic pace. Those who lived in other cities or even regions had all gone home. The streets and shops weren’t as busy and you quite enjoyed the calmer atmosphere, especially since you had yet another planned evening to be spent with Zhongli, who had become closer to you than when you first met. Of course, your preferred topics were the ones related to Rex Lapis in a way or another, but you often caught yourself mention bits and moments of your own life. Zhongli never tried to switch topics however, which made you feel relieved and more comfortable each time. Opening up about deeper and more intimate subjects wasn’t something you often did, as you didn’t really have anyone willing to lend you a compassionate ear. Zhongli, on the other hand, never failed to show interest in anything you could say, as meaningless or meaningful it could be. From your daily ventures to slices from your personal life. All of it.

His intense gaze, his understanding expression and facing posture all were signs for you to know how much he cared and encouraged you to keep going, to tell him more, as much as there is to tell. He never pushed you beyond your boundaries, no. When he sensed you were getting a tiny bit less detailed, he smoothly redirected the conversation on something less tricky for you to talk about. After all, he himself did not tell you the whole truth. Yet.

That evening, he suggested for you to dine at the famous Xinyue Kiosk, which served Yue cuisine. One of your most favourite places to eat at, actually. Their seafood dishes were unmatched. You decided to pick your safe dish, Fullmoon Egg. Truly an exquisite dish, Zhongli asserted. He himself ordered one Golden Crab, a crab dish cooked in the ancient ways. You two requested some tea, which always accompanied your outings. For someone who liked traditions and old ‘things’, you thought it was a nice touch to have something consistent when it was just you two. To make it more special. Zhongli suggested Hulao Maofeng tea, which can be made only with leaves picked up at the highest peaks of Mount Hulao. Picking up those leaves can be perilous; a handful of incautious tea pluckers had met a sad fate as they got trapped in amber. As Zhongli explained you the quite lengthy history and customs of this particular tea, you couldn’t help but think of how expensive it had to be – and how much you would have to pay as well. Oh well. It wasn’t like you hated being there, with Zhongli alongside.

Once you two had finished your delicious meals, you stood up with your purse in hand before a hand blocked your path. Unexpectedly, Zhongli did not seem to want to let you pay for you two.

“Is something the matter ?” you questioned him, a concerned look on your face. Something was off.

“Oh, do not worry. Tonight is a quite special occurrence. As such, I would love to have you enjoy it with no care at all.” he simply responded, softly smiling. He stood up from his own seat, your eyes following his gracious movements.

“But…do you have, uh…” your hesitant words were unfinished but their meaning was properly conveyed nonetheless, earning you a chuckle from Zhongli. With anyone else than him, this would signify that indeed he had the mora to pay. But this was not ‘anyone else’. It was the man who never had a single mora whatsoever. And you had no idea that tonight was supposed to be special enough for him to actually have that much to fully cover for the dinner.

“Of course. After all, I was the one who suggested this place. I am well aware of your situation, but I do not wish to weight on you too heavily. Notably, not tonight.” He confidently declared. You watched his back, as Zhongli walked toward the counter to pay and to your surprise, he did bring mora, and a huge bag of it. You could see that he even brought too much, which was unthinkable for your companion. Oh Archons, oh Rex Lapis ! What on earth did you miss ? It was surely not your birthday, neither was it his. You knew by heart all of the important dates related to Rex Lapis that, in your opinion, everyone should celebrate and none of them matched. While you were lost in your thoughts, a perplexed expression crept up your face and was obvious enough for Zhongli to inquire as he came back to you.

“Is everything alright ? Did you suddenly remember an urgent matter ?” he worriedly asked, not aware of how his previous actions looked out of place.

“Don’t worry ! I was just wondering…why is today so special ? I hope my question wouldn’t offend you in any way tough…” you sheepishly seeked an answer, a hand under your nose covering your mouth. By now, Zhongli could spot any and each of your mannerisms, as well as understand how it displayed your state of mind and emotions. That one hand motion could tell him that you were quite flustered, almost ashamed. He felt a bit guilty, since he hadn’t told you yet what this was all about. But now was not the moment, the prime opportunity shall present itself in due time.

“Dear, do not concern yourself with this. I may have not told you yet why tonight will remain memorable, but soon enough you will know.” he explained in a very calm, very typical tone of his, making you feel slightly more at ease thanks to the sense of familiarity.

“Howbeit, it has gotten awfully late. Would you fancy a walk ? Of course, I would accompany you back home if you would not mind.” Zhongli suggested, taking the lead once again. Tonight might have been fairly surprising but you did not mind any of the novelties. If you really think about it, the meal itself had to have covered all the ‘loans’ in their entirety actually. But he also offered to take you home ? Zhongli truly did have praiseworthy manners, you thought to yourself, feeling your cheeks warm up. After all, he did manage to make you feel pretty special so far.

The walk to your home was pleasant. A soft night breeze swirled around you and the bright moon shining through the travelling clouds made it all look so perfectly peaceful. What a wonderful night. Nothing in the world could shift that mood around. Except for the inevitable parting moment at your doorstep, which you honestly did not wish for. In fact, you hoped that Zhongli would agree to stay a little longer. You had previously invited him into your cosy home, for some tea. So you gathered all the courage in your heart and turned around to face him. You looked up and met his beautiful amber eyes, reminding you of the radiant jade imprisoning careless voyagers in the various stories told earlier.

“I really enjoyed our evening spent together…” you started, a little bit hesitant. Zhongli naturally caught wind of that and with a comforting smile, he succeeded once again to reassure you.

“…But I really wish we could chat a little longer, if you have time of course… I wouldn’t want to bother you, knowing how busy you are with your work at the parlor.” You courageously managed to finish your sentence but as soon as your words escaped your mouth, you felt quite embarrassed by your own selfish request. It was indeed way past midnight by then, not many shops were still open and merchants were closing their stores one by one.

“I am actually quite pleased and thankful for your invitation, as I myself hoped for the same.” Zhongli reciprocated, his smile widening and eyes sparkling.

You did not waste a second, you opened the door and gestured for him to come inside. It was quite dark but instead of turning on the lamps hanging off the ceiling, you opened a close drawer containing never once used candles. You had them in there getting dusted as you saw no use for them, but you were glad that you didn’t sell your candles away. They were not just any candles but handmade. And Zhongli’s very keen eye noticed that.

“By any chance, could you be the one who crafted those candles ? I have never seen anything like that in local markets, as the fragrances usually sold do not seem to match the ones you’re holding.” Zhongli asked you, a hand under his chin – a very familiar pose he had whenever he got interested in something he saw or heard. Or smelled, for that matter.

“Yes ! I once had the chance to visit a professional who taught a small group how to make candles yourself. We could freely pick the perfume we wanted to add to the melting wax, but I personally think that most perfumes are too strong. So I simply added some flower distillate.” your words conveyed your enthusiasm, while you lit up the candles one by one and set them on a small table made of pine wood in your living room, which was also where you slept. Even though adventuring didn’t keep you from living nicely, owning a bigger place in the heart of Liyue was still not for your means. At least, your kitchen and bathroom were separate rooms and you were grateful for that. Your home was comfortable for you and it was all thanks to your achievements as an adventurer.

“Indeed, we can smell the flowery essence. Quite delicate, I would even add. Could this be an extract of Glaze Lily concentrate ?” Zhongli guessed. While he did recognise the scent, after knowing you and how much your revered Rex Lapis, it was not difficult to correctly assume which flower you would prefer. Last time he visited you, you showed him your vase made of Cor Lapis, in which you carefully arranged fresh Glaze Lilies. Really, it was adorable.

“Was it that obvious ?” you bashfully giggled. It wasn’t as a question for him as it was for you. At this rate, the only thing missing would be a Rex Lapis body pillow. But this would mean no more friends coming over ever again. There was a limit to how much you could proudly show your veneration to others. Especially those who would know instantly. In other words, Zhongli.

“Would you like some tea, as per usual ?” you offered him, in a clear attempt to change topics.

The soft glow and silky fragrance embracing the room, you two enjoyed a warm cup of tea on the mattress set on the floor. You weren’t facing each other, but you still kept a respectable distance – until Zhongli shifted his position and got closer to you. You couldn’t help but stare at the dancing brilliance in his eyes, too distracted to notice the raging passion. You were so grateful to have met such a wonderful friend, who didn’t judge you for anything. Even though Rex Lapis was a well-loved Archon, not every person born and raised in Liyue admired him as much as you did. He was a true role model, guiding you through and through. If you could meet him, you would thank him for everything. Your face appeared so soft, your gaze so tender, although you were simply lost in your thoughts.

You were forcibly brought back to reality when you noticed Zhongli’s face get closer, his hand cupping your cheek, closing his eyes and his lips coming in contact with yours. Usually, both parties close their eyes and enjoy the moment. But you couldn’t. The shock prevented you from forming a single thought. Your racing heart could explode at any moment.

Zhongli pulled back and saw the look on your face. When he should have been fazed, he had a vainglorious expression, which confused you even more.

“My dear. I am grateful for your formidable love, from all those years. That is why I wish to reward you tonight.” Zhongli serenely spoke, all the while he gently but firmly pressed you on you back against the matress you were seating on precedently.

His lips bruised yours once again, as you even so slightly opened your mouth in order to protest. You attempted to push him away, hoping you were strong enough. However, your wrists were caught in a swift motion and pinned above your head with an unyielding – making you feel powerless as intended. After all, what could you do if an absolute being were to entrap you under his oppressive build ? In truth, you were not supposed to do anything against the said deity. You were meant to not only accept, but to welcome his favour.

Zhongli sensed you were in dire need for air. He barely moved away, giving you such little space to breathe. After quickly catching your breath, you gave him a pleading look.

“I-I really can’t do this…” you implored the man on top of you, expecting him to go back to his usual gentleman-like self. Zhongli let out a sign, you wishfully assumed he was about to apologize, or something along those lines.

“My apologies, dear.” Zhongli’s words made you feel bursts of relief. But it’s not for nothing that elders always told us to listen until the end. Without warning, a bright light blinds you, forcing you to tightly shut yours eyes. Once the brightness toned down, you slowly opened your eyelids and felt air being knocked out of your lungs. You simply couldn’t believe what was happening in front of your very own eyes. The person supposed to be the Zhongli you thought you knew bore eyes as bright as Cor Lapis, strands of long hair glowing the same warm hue of gold. Could it be his vision ? Or…

“I did not mean to reveal myself this early, but you leave me no choice darling.” Zhongli reluctantly confessed to you. But the bewildered look in your eyes made him sigh once again. His right hand moved your wrist under his left one. He raised his now free hand and made appear the very same Geo cube all of Rex Lapis’ statues held. And everything clicked. No wonder he knew so much about Liyue’s Archon, no wonder he always liked- no, loved hearing you talk endlessly about, well, himself. You couldn’t form a thought; no words would come out. The shock was way too much for you, your poor heart and body could only handle this much.

Morax took your silence as compliance. You finally submitted to his will, as you should be. For such a fervent follower, this wasn’t just a favour but an honour. However, you had done so much for him, it was only fair if the God of Contracts would recompensate you for your efforts.

The Geo cube he shaped just now vanished. Morax lowered himself to lustfully kiss you over and over, all the while his hand slowly roamed above your upper body, barely touching you. Once he gently cupped your breast, a moan escaped your mouth just to be swallowed in his throat. This small yet oh so telling reaction from you made Morax smirk against your lips. You just loved him that much, it was simple a suitable reaction. But no way in Celestia he would stop here. He would honour his part of the contract. An Archon did not earn such title with no ambition or greed – Morax felt the same way about you. He wanted nothing more than see you come undone under his touch and he beyond shadow of doubt intended to make it a reality.

Without interrupting your making out, his hand pulled up your shirt and fondled your breast in a firmer manner, earning more pretty moans from you, all to his delight. In a rapid and skilful movement, he switched hands and you were pinned under his right hand, earning a soft whimper out of you, while the left one resumed the gropes and caresses. Every touch made you tremble and squirm. He quickly found your preferences, even those you were not aware of. Being the oldest of the Seven, he had long fruitful millenniums to pick up any type of skill – including the know-how of pleasure. As expected, it did not take him long enough to make of you a panting mess, much to his own gratification.

Morax leisurely released your frame by placing his hands close to your flushed face, taking a moment to observe all of the tiniest details of your slightly shivering form. You were being so good too him up until now. Would be a true shame to not grant you what you have been wishing for so long. By now, you had to be ready.

With hardly any strength, Morax pushed himself off the mattress and was kneeling over you. He slowly shifted backwards, all the while without breaking eye contact. He effortlessly pulled off you pants past your knees and ankles, as well as your underwear, which was glistering with your arousal. Indeed, you were ready for him, just like you should.

Morax tightly grabbed and parted your thighs, while repositioning himself in between, not allowing you to hide your bare self. You were in such a vulnerable state, all for your beloved God. Really, Morax was so proud of you.

“Darling, I am truly pleased. For have you kept yourself hidden from others’ undeserving gazes and touches, I will grant your wish and answer your prayers. All you will have to do is to relax.” He kindly, yet condescendingly, explained to you what he expected of you next. Your vain struggling did not free you of him, Morax’ grip was as inflexible as stone. Vain but also on the brink of being insulting.

Morax released your bruised thigh to solidly clasp his hand around your throat, keeping you in place for good. Having you finally unmoving, he unbuttoned his too tight pants, ultimately primed to honour you. Just before breaking through, he noticed tears flowing past your tightly shut eyes.

“I am glad to see you being so overjoyed, my dear. I will not waste any more time.” He sweetly whispered, seeing you in such a tearful state. He was a man of his word. You felt him steadily but painfully fill you up and stretch you excessively, although Morax was generous enough to make himself lesser due to his shapeshifting abilities. Your soft cries and whimpers were music to his ears. Ah, you were such a good and honest subservient. Undoubtably, fate commanded you to be made for him to consume you that night.

#genshin #genshin impact #zhongli #genshin zhongli #yandere #yandere zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #genshin smut #yandere genshin #zhongli smut #genshin x reader smut #md.writes

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rinixo · 1 year

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aquae vivae

Din Djarin/Reader | 4.1k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, PIV sex, Mand’alor Din Djarin, breeding kink, dom/sub undertones, mention of pregnancy, subtle sex pollen, wedding night, oral sex

Your wedding night as the new bride of the Mand'alor.

AU of the 'trying to sleep' series (non-linear oneshots featuring you, a university scholar from Naboo who is helping The Mandalorian seek out the Jedi). Can be read alone.

a/n: This follows the same general story as 'thrones and people and cities' but can technically be read alone.I tagged 'sex pollen' but it just barely fits that trope. Mainly just added it so folks who aren't into it can skip/you're aware of the inherent dubious consent of it - but there is nothing but 100%, enthusiastic consent from all parties here.

read on ao3

You pause at the edge of the pool, eyeing the dark depths. The sound of dripping water echoes through the caverns, the only sound apart from your thrumming heart.

The murmur of your name snaps your attention to the caped man halfway down the steps into the pool. Din is half-turned towards you, armored head to toe as usual, the end of his long, furred cape floating in the still water. The cape around your shoulders matches his, and you rub the soft fur with your fingers nervously.

Din reaches out a gloved hand. Stepping forward, you lay your own in it and let him lead you down into the water. You’re surprised - despite the dark chill of the cavern, the water is strangely warm. You wonder if it is fed by geothermal springs, deep below the crust of the planet, or if it is something deeper.

There’s magic in the sacred pools, Din had murmured into your hair one late night. He told you about how bathing in the waters had redeemed him, how it was the great catalyst leading to his eventual accession to the role of Mand’alor. Now, as you stand before him, hands grasped in his, you wonder if the tingling on your skin is from the magnitude of what was about to occur or something more. Something without a name.

When Din had explained to you what a Mandalorian wedding was like, you had been quite happy at knowing it was a simple sharing of vows. He had then suggested that the two of you journey into the depths below the city center, to where the caverns with the living waters were located. There, just the two of you, you would bind yourself not only to the man you loved but also become Mandalorian yourself. It was a big moment, and one you had put a lot of careful thought into.

“Are you ready?” Din asks quietly. Squeezing his hands, you smile softly.

“Yes.”

Though you had memorized the vows before venturing into the caves, Din lead you through the words. You were grateful, not wanting to embarrass yourself by stumbling over the pronunciation.

“Mhi solus tome.”

We are one when together.

“Mhi solus dar’tome.”

We are one when apart.

“Mhi me'dinui an.

We share all.

“Mhi ba'juri verde.”

We will raise warriors.

—

Blinking at the late afternoon light, you followed Din up out of the caves, wet gown sticking around your legs. You were looking forward to changing out of your damp outfit and spending the rest of the evening with your new husband.

People buzzed around you the whole way back to your chambers, several of them wishing the two of you congratulations. You murmured shy thanks, the feeling of being the center of attention during what you felt was such an intimate time causing some of your innate timidness to come forward.

Din had explained to you that part of Mandalorian weddings included feasting and celebrating after the vows were shared. The families and clans of the couples were usually the extent of the guests, but with an apologetic smile, Din warned you that the feast to celebrate your union was likely to be much larger. He was quite beloved as a leader - as the first Mand’alor to resettle the planet since the Purge. The first royal wedding in decades, with the capital more populated than it had been in ages, was shaping up to be quite the affair.

The delegation from Naboo had also gotten involved. The ambassador, who had been so put off by your relationship at first, reveled in the chance to showcase Naboo. All week shipments of millaflowers and lanterns were arriving, along with cases of draping fabrics, mirrors, and jewel-toned crystal. He had even commissioned a gown for you to wear during the feast. Traditionally Naboo clothing was very structured, so you were thankful to see that the gown the ambassador had made for you was in the lake country style - lighter, made of lace and tulle, with a low, open back.

As you stepped into the gown, securing it at your shoulders and around your neck, you paused to look at yourself in the full-length mirror in the closet of your chambers. You had never worn something so lovely. Draped over a chair in the corner was your cape, now dry from its dip in the living waters. It was a symbol of your new status, and you mused at the fact that the gown complemented it quite well.

A knock at the closet door drew you out into the main part of your room. Din - your husband, you thought giddily - was standing there in his armor, sans helmet. You felt yourself flush at the way his eyes widened at your appearance, drinking you in.

“You look stunning,” he breathed, and you smiled at the compliment. You step forward and fuss with his armor - unnecessary, as it was spotless as usual - and looked up into his deep, kind eyes.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you remarked, leaning up to kiss the side of his mouth gently. You felt him smile and tilt his head to chase after your mouth, but you pulled away teasingly.

“Later,” you whispered. “We have a feast to attend, remember?”

Din grumbled, and you smiled placatingly. You’d be lying if you didn’t want to forget about the feast and spend the rest of the evening alone with your husband, but you knew if you didn’t show up for just a little while the ambassador would drag you there himself.

“I have something for you first,” Din pulled a small pouch out and turned it over. Something silver fell out into the palm of his gloved hand.

“A pendant?” You watched him hold it up, and saw that it was a delicate chain with a silver charm at the end in the stylized shape of some kind of creature, no bigger than one of your fingernails.

“I asked the armorer to make it,” he murmured. “It’s a Mudhorn, the symbol of my - our - clan.” He reached forward and clasped it around your neck, the weight of the pendant laying heavily on your breast. “It’s pure beskar, made from a piece of my armor.”

You looked down, touching it lightly. “It’s beautiful.”

Din merely smiled, leaning forward to place his forehead on yours, and you responded in a quiet moment of tranquility.

—

The feast was certainly one for the history books. The throne room made you gasp as you entered it, arm-in-arm with Din. The vaulted ceilings were lit with hundreds of beautifully crafted lanterns, mirrors, and crystals reflecting the shimmering flames around the massive space. The millaflowers and fabric draped every surface, the sweet scent of the blooms perfuming everything around you. You gave credit to those who had decorated - all of the decorations perfectly complimented the stark, structured Mandalorian architecture. It truly was a unification of your two cultures.

All around you guests came forward with well-wishes and gifts, which a never-ending retinue of assistants would take a place elsewhere. Grogu, who was also dressed up for the occasion, gurgled happily in his father’s arms at all of the attention. You, however, were starting to feel a bit overwhelmed.

Sensing your discomfort, Din lead you up to the raised dais in the front of the room, where the two of you sat side-by-side in lavish seats set in front of the throne. You reached for a goblet and downed a mouthful of sweet, flowery liquor. Din - who had put his helmet back on before the two of you joined the celebrations - tilted his head slightly in amusement.

“Feeling all right?” He asked, placing his hand on your thigh soothingly. You nodded, placing your drink down on the table and sighing deeply.

“Yes, I just needed some space,” you admitted. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“I know,” he answered. “Just a little while longer.”

Guests continued to stream up to the two of you, though now that you were seated and there was a decadent table between you and them you felt more at ease.

An elder Mandalorian approached your table with a crystal carafe filled with a deep red liquid. Setting it gently on the table, they intoned in heavy Mando’a.

“Wine,” Din translates, “Made in the ancient tradition from herbs and tinctures symbolizing prosperity and love. It’s a gift from those who remember the old ways and hope that our union brings forth a new age of growth for our people.”

“Thank you,” you express, taking the carafe. The elder bowed, before shuffling away to allow others to come forward.

The number of people coming up to you seemed to go on forever, and you poured yourself a generous glass of the special wine to help distract you and calm your nerves. It seemed to be working, the sweet yet tart liquid filling you with a familiar warmth and ease. You offered some to Din, who accepted a small taste by lifting his helmet enough for you to tip the goblet into his mouth.

After a while, you felt yourself relaxing into the plush furs of your chair, leaning against Din’s side. You played with Grogu’s ears as he tucked into the snacks laid out on the table, smiling fondly at the child and his voracious appetite.

“Does this mean I’m his mother now?” You wondered aloud and felt Din chuckle.

“I suppose,” he mused. “I’m his father, and you’re my wife, so that would make him our child.”

“Hmm,” you wiped a crumb from the side of the baby’s mouth, amused. “I always imagined my first child looking a little more like me.”

Din coughed, tensing slightly next to you. “Well,” he intoned lowly, leaning a little closer so that his words were only audible to you, “Perhaps the next one will.”

He placed his hand on your thigh again, the thin fabric shifting as he rubbed your skin. You felt warm from your head to your toes, with most of the heat pooling between your legs and where Din’s hand was placed. Throat suddenly dry, you lifted your drink and took another sip.

“C-can we go soon?” You lilted, wanting nothing more than to return to your rooms with Din alone.

“Soon,” Din promised, and you tensed your legs slightly to try to alleviate the ache growing between them. It was a familiar kind of ache, one that you had felt before, wine or no wine. However, there was something different about the way your body was reacting to the man next to you, and you weren’t sure how long you’d be able to take it before pouncing on him in front of everyone in attendance.

Thankfully it was not very long before Din gestured to a member of his staff and had them assist the two of you in making a smooth exit. He passed Grogu, now pleasantly drowsy, to one of his aides and then guided you back to your shared chambers.

When inside you kicked off your shoes, sighing at the relief of the cool floor under your feet. Din let go of your hand and locked the doors behind you, the sound of it engaging sending a throb of anticipation through your body.

You stepped towards your bed, which you had been sharing with Din for months before this. Something about its wide surface, covered in soft linen and furs, felt different this time. It was now your marriage bed.

The sound of Din removing his helmet, the seal disengaging, made you glance over to him. He placed it down gently and started with the rest of his armor. You stood there as if transfixed, watching as the man beneath the armor was slowly revealed. You always enjoyed being the audience to this ritual, and tonight was no exception. In fact, your body continued to warm, shivers of need going up your spine.

Din turns towards you, dressed down only to his most base inner layers. Realizing you were staring, your hands went to the clasp of your gown before he stops you with a low murmur.

“Allow me,” he husks, and you drop your hands to allow him to undress you himself. His fingers, surprisingly soft despite his rough past, dusted across your skin as the lace and tulle were unwound from your frame. At the same time, he began to back you up until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed.

Pulling a pin from where your neck met your shoulder, your gown unraveled and fell softly around your legs. Din’s hands paused, his dark eyes drinking in the sight of you there, bare save for the beskar pendant around your neck.

“Beautiful,” he rasped, and you nearly moaned at the tone of his voice. It rolled over you, through you, like thick, rich honey and smoke. You could practically taste it. With a gentle push, Din laid you back onto the bed, standing over you with a hungry look in his eyes.

“I dreamed about this.” He kneeled on the bed, crawling up your body. “You, in my bed, wearing the symbol of my clan.” His head dipped to place a kiss to the center of your ribcage. “Bound to me.” You shivered again as his mouth trailed up to your collarbone, your neck, and across your jaw. Your hands, shaking with expectant thirst, snaked up his powerful arms to clutch at his shoulders.

You wanted to say so many things, all of the emotions that had built up catching on the tip of your tongue, but when you opened your mouth all that left you was a choked “please.”

Din’s mouth slotted over yours and you moaned deeply into it, body arching up to press against his firmer form. One of his hands came to your thigh, and you hitched it up around his waist, rolling your hips wantonly. Your hands ran under his linen shift, and you whined at the barrier between your skin and his.

With a groan, Din’s mouth released from yours just long enough for him to pull his shirt over his head and throw it to the side. He continued his exploration of your flesh, licking a slow stripe down your arched neck. You hissed as his teeth pulled at your skin, your nails scratching lightly across the skin of his upper back.

“Din,” you crooned, hand going to his head as he dipped down to tease the peak of one of your breasts with that wicked tongue. You cried out as he sucked roughly on your nipple, sensations of velvet and fire going straight to your swollen pussy. His mouth moved between the tips of your breasts, pinching and sucking and nipping at the flesh there until it was as swollen as your pussy felt.

He raised his head, eyes wild. He took in your body, writhing and panting, and thought you reminiscent of molten steel. You sought his gaze, pupils blown dark and wide with desire.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Din croaked, dipping his head down to nose the soft skin of your stomach. “Perfect creature…” he kissed his way down your lower abdomen. “I want to fill you up, sweet girl - do you want it too?”

You let out a wail as he licked a firm stripe up your leaking cunt. He lifted your legs to rest on his shoulders so that you were bent - your upper back laying against the bed, your hips angled up towards his mouth. You were wetter than you thought possible, your pussy swollen and flushed. Din sucked firmly on your clit, moaning at the way you keened and shook in his grasp.

Your hands thrashed, clutching desperately at the furs around you. Your thighs tensed, squeezing tightly against the sides of Din’s head as he brought you closer to the crest of your pleasure.

The feeling of his mouth leaving you made you groan in frustration as he dropped your lower body back to the bed. You opened your eyes, brow furrowed as you propped yourself up to stare at your smug husband.

He climbed over you again, shedding his pants. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the hard cock between his legs, flushed and bobbing, leaking clear droplets of pre-spend. You laid back, legs spreading so that he could settle between them firmly.

“Eager girl,” Din teased. “You that desperate to have me inside of you?”

“Din,” you groused, “If you don’t fuck me soon I think I’m going to die.”

He laughed, husked low in his chest as he pressed himself firmly to your swollen entrance. You laid your head back onto the bed, sighing in relief as he began to stretch your walls. It felt like he was splitting you right down the middle in the best way, and you arched your back to let him sink in further.

“Oh, fuck,” he rasped, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. “You’re a jewel,” he breathed roughly, hips snapping forward until you wailed. “Taking my cock so well.”

You shifted your hips under him, angling yourself to take him as far in as your body would allow. He chuckled at your frustrated expression, arms braced on either side of your head. He bent forward to capture your lips in a messy kiss.

“My little wife,” he breathed over your lips. “Wants my cock so badly.”

“’S'good,” you slurred. “Big. Fuck me, please.” He answered you with a rock of his hips, hitting that spot inside of you that made you keen again.

“Tell me what you want, baby” he crooned against your mouth, hips slapping mercilessly against your pelvis. “Come on.”

“C-come in me,” you begged. Flashes of images - a little curly-haired baby at your breast, curled up against Din’s chest as he whispered to it lovingly, lowly - made your pussy clench around him. Your body ached for it in a way you had never experienced. You wanted him to get you pregnant, wanted to carry his child inside of you.

“Fucking - anything you want, sweet girl,” Din gasped. “Want me to fill you up “ he rides you hard, desperate for the way you cry with every punch at your guts. “You’re so good, baby, fuck-“

He continues to ramble, lost in how you’re tensing around him. “You’re gonna look so fucking beautiful, full of my child. You don’t know how badly I want it, so badly - I can practically see it -“

Emotion wells up in your chest, binding with the pleasure thrumming through you. You’re nearly there - fire rising from your toes and flooding down from your chest. Din dips his head to kiss your neck, and you start to tip over the edge. Your orgasm starts deep inside of your cunt, from where his swollen head is grinding up into your walls, and sparks down to where his pelvis rubs against your clit. Your vision goes white and you hear Din cry out as your desperate pussy wrenches from him his own release.

“T-take it,” he growls, hips snapping against yours, the head of his cock tight against the seal of your womb. You whine at the pressure of it, the feeling almost too good to bear. You shift your hips, pulling away before his head snaps up from your neck.

“No no no- take it,“ he groans, hand tight on your hip. You writhe under him, tears of pleasure pricking the corner of your eyes. His gaze on you burns, and you struggle to see him clearly through the fog of your ecstasy.

His pace remains steady, desperation clear in the way he rams his cock up into your cunt. “Your duty,” he gasps, leaning forward so that his chest nearly crushes you. “Do your duty and take my seed, bear my children.”

He holds you there as he pulses out the last of his release, breath leaving him in short pants through his nose. His teeth are gritted, brow furrowed, gaze locked to your eyes so that you can’t look away.

“D-Din,” you shudder, and his eyes soften. His grip on your hips loosens minutely, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“You did so well,” he praises you. “You’re so fucking good.”

You blink wetly, mind still focused on his cock and how it’s anchored inside of you, pinning you to the bed, plugging you securely. Din tilts his head at your determined expression, and when you roll your hips experimentally he sucks in air sharply.

“Feels good,” you mumble, drunk on the pleasure and the feeling of him still hard inside of you. Stars, how was he still so fucking hard? And why was your body telling you to make him come inside of you again?

Think about that later, you decide, hooking your legs around his waist and pushing him further up into you. He chokes again, head drooping to look at where the clutch of you holds him tightly inside.

“Fuck,” he moans. “You’re never going to know sleep without the feel of me leaking out of you.” He rolls his hips back before slamming back into you, your mouth opening in a satisfied groan. “Not until you’re fucked full of my child, sweet girl.”

“Yeah,” you agree, nodding feverishly. It’s all you can manage to say, everything in you focused on where his body enters yours, in and out, inandout-

The two of you spend the entire night and most of the early morning like that, tangled together, until your bodies are near to collapse from exhaustion. It’s Din who taps out first, placating your desire with soft kisses to your temple and strokes to your still-swollen cunt. It isn’t long before your eyes start to droop, sleep just on the edge of your consciousness as he teases you to one last, lazy orgasm. You all but pass out, head resting on his chest to the feeling of him stroking your hair lovingly.

You wake hours later, alone in bed. Your body aches sweetly, and as you start you rise you roll your neck and groan.

“Good morning,” a raspy voice greets you, and you turn to look at where Din leans up against a dresser. He sips from a steaming mug, brow raising in humor at your bedraggled appearance.

“G’morning,” you croak, throat dry. Din sets his mug down, trading it for a glass. He comes over to the bed, sitting next to you, and hands it to you. You take it, gulping down the cool water gratefully.

“What time is it?” You asked, licking your lips. When he tells you - mid-afternoon - you scoff. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Din’s brow raises again, and he leans back against the headboard. “Thought you needed the rest,” he said, amusement in his tone. “Since you kept me up all night.”

You pouted, indignant and embarrassed. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it,” you mumble, and he laughs.

“Quite the opposite,” he husks. “And as much as I’d like to take responsibility for your behavior, I had a feeling it was due to something else.” You tilted your head in confusion, sipping more of the water.

“The wine,” he explained, and you thought back to the previous night - somewhat difficult a task - and remembered the crystal carafe.

“Turns out they mean “new age of growth” more literally than I understood,” Din continues. “That wine is made from herbs that act as an aphrodisiac and increase fertility. You drank a lot more of it than I did, so it hit you harder than it did me.”

You choke on your water, some of it dribbling down your chin. Wiping it away, you set your glass to your side and cover your eyes, groaning. Din pulls you closer and you bury your face in his chest, burning with embarrassment at the situation - and the implication.

“Silly girl,” he croons, hand creeping down your side. You look up at him, another shy pout on your lips, and he tips your chin up to kiss you slowly, deeply. You sigh into it, shifting your leg to straddle his lap and feel him smile against your mouth. You shift down to where his cock sits, firm and proud, and grind your bareness against him until he groans.

“More? So soon?” He whispers darkly, and you nip at him cheekily. Pulling back, you look your husband in the eye, a mischievous glimmer in your gaze.

“Might as well make sure it works, right?” You tease lowly, and shriek in loving laughter as he throws you down and begins to devour you again.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #mando x reader #din x reader

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solisaureus · 8 months

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Everything I Hate About Rick Riordan's Interpretation of the Hunters of Artemis

I believe that Rick Riordan has good intentions and that he has done a lot to promote inclusivity in YA fantasy, both at a fictional representation level and at a level of authorial diversity. However, he has fumbled the ball numerous times in his writing, and my biggest complaint against him is his handling of the Hunters of Artemis. So I wrote an essay on everything I hate about it.

Part I: Mythological context

Artemis is the ancient Greek goddess of the hunt, nature, unwed maidens, animals, archery, childbirth, and other domains. She is known for keeping a company of nymphs and inhabiting the wilderness with them, giving rise to Riordan’s concept of the Hunters of Artemis.

Artemis is also famous for being a virgin goddess, vowing never to marry. The concepts of virginity and marriage in ancient times and the understanding we have of them today are quite different. Here is an excerpt describing Artemis (and Athena’s) status as virgin goddesses from Goddesses, Whores, Wives, and Slaves: Women in Classical Antiquity by Sarah Pomeroy:

“The Artemis of classical Greece probably evolved from the concept of a primitive mother goddess, and both she and her sister Athena were considered virgins because they had never submitted to a monogamous marriage. Rather, as befits mother goddesses, they had enjoyed many consorts. Their failure to marry, however, was misinterpreted as virginity by succeeding generations of men who connected loss of virginity only with conventional marriage. Either way, as mother goddess or as virgin, Artemis retains control over herself; her lack of permanent connection to a male figure in a monogamous relationship is the keystone of her independence.”

Note how this differs from modern Western concepts of marriage and virginity. Marriage, for a woman of antiquity, means a monogamous, submissive union with a man. A virgin, in the context of Artemis and her Hunters, is an unmarried, independent woman, not a woman who does not desire sex or romantic love. It is likely that Riordan, as a classics scholar, knows this.

Artemis was known to keep companions in the myths, both men and women. Orion is the most famous male companion of Artemis, and in some iterations of the myth he is a lover of Artemis. Another notable figure is the nymph Callisto, who was exiled from the Hunters after Zeus raped and impregnated her in Hesiod’s Astronomia. (According to Hyginus’s recounting of this story, Zeus seduced Callisto by disguising himself as Artemis, insinuating that Callisto and Artemis had been lovers). I assume this is where Riordan got the idea that becoming “smitten with boys” (The Titan’s Curse, p. 38) gets you kicked out of the Hunters.

Another known devotee to Artemis was Hippolytus. In the play Hippolytus by Euripides, the eponymous character (the son of Theseus with the Amazon Hippolyta), was enamored with the hunt and had no desire for marriage, worshipping Artemis as his patron. His disinterest in romance offended Aphrodite, and she cursed Theseus’s wife Phaedra to fall in love with Hippolytus. The rest of the play does not end well for either of them, but the important thing is that ancient Greek plays did acknowledge unmarried male devotees of Artemis. This, combined with the myth of Orion, confounds Riordan’s choice to interpret the Hunters as exclusively female.

Part II: Feminist separatism

So, given the existence of Orion and Hippolytus, where does the anti-men thing come from? One possible explanation is the story of Actaeon, who spied on Artemis while she was bathing, and was harshly punished for his indecency when Artemis transformed him into a deer and set his hunting dogs on him. But mythologically, the Hunters were not exclusive to women, and in a modern context, I think Riordan’s interpretation of them as such is inappropriate and irresponsible.

In the 1970s, there was a movement to form communities of exclusively lesbians who seek to escape patriarchal society by forming insular colonies, known as lesbian separatism. On a surface level, it might seem empowering — many lesbians and other women seek to escape the male gaze and heteronormative expectations, and making their own exclusive all-female social communities may seem like a utopian escape. But this movement was notoriously transphobic, with these lesbian separatist communities explicitly rejecting transgender women and relying on gender bioessentialism to determine who was “really” a woman or a lesbian. It was gatekeeping in its most radical form (Separatism by Andrew Matzner).

So for Riordan’s Hunters to model feminist separatism (except with celibate women instead of lesbians) is a similar TERF trap. It is never clarified in canon whether the female requirement for membership includes either closeted or out transgender women, or if the Hunters expel transgender men who come out after joining the Hunters. Given that the Hunters — a community of people who seek to reject conventional patriarchal society — would likely appeal to queer people of all ages, genders, and sexual identities, why is it exclusive to adolescent celibate girls?

Part III: Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell

In The Dark Prophecy, Riordan supplements the lore of his Hunters with a bombshell: female Hunters who fall in love with each other are expelled for breaking their oath of virginity. Emmie, who is Hemithea of ancient myth and had been a part of the Hunters for millennia, was excommunicated with her lover Jo, and they form a new life together in Indianapolis. This is described as a voluntary, heartwarming departure and a show of the two women’s commitment to each other.

The positive spin that Riordan puts on this story is shocking, considering the fact of the matter is that these characters were forced to choose between their family and their queer love. Losing one’s family, especially one that had been Emmie’s whole life for literal ages, as a result of coming out is a homophobic tragedy any way you look at it. How are we supposed to think positively of Artemis or the Hunters after seeing them cast out their own because of their lesbian relationship? Especially when LGBTQ homelessness as a result of this exact trauma is such a prominent problem?

Hell, in The Sun and the Star, Nico di Angelo expresses that his worst fear in coming out as gay was to be abandoned by his friends or ostracized by his community (p. 216, 219). Yet this is exactly what happened to Emmie and Jo when they came out in the Hunters. The fact that this outcome is acknowledged as terrifying and traumatic in The Sun and the Star makes it baffling that it’s framed as congenial and unavoidable in another Riordan book.

The fact that the Hunters are a militant force makes the expulsion of lesbians reminiscent of another notable LGBTQ rights issue: Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell (DADT). This American legislation, which was in effect from 1994 to 2011, prohibited openly gay, bisexual, or lesbian individuals from serving in the armed forces. It was acceptable to be closeted while serving, but disclosing one’s identity as lesbian, gay, or bisexual resulted in being discharged. The repeal of DADT in 2011 was seen as a major victory for LGBTQ rights in America…which makes it concerning that Riordan would implement the same policy for his fictional militia in a book that was published in 2017. And then portray it as positive and empowering.

Riordan doubling down on the “no romance allowed” aspect of his iteration of the Hunters by excluding lesbians from membership is a bizarre commitment to his misconstrued translation of the ancient Greek concept of virginity. Remember that Artemis’s vow of virginity was a commitment to independence and a rejection of marital submission to a man in a patriarchal society, not a condemnation of romance and sexuality. By this definition, virgins include lesbians, and it is ridiculous to construe two women’s romantic commitment to each other as violating the oath of virginity. Riordan’s choice to vilify lesbians in the Hunters was his choice, not an appropriate application of mythology. Considering that Artemis has been used as a relatable cultural icon for modern lesbians, this seems especially insidious.

Part IV: Asexual misrepresentation

Asexuality is a spectrum of queer identities which describe those that experience little to no sexual attraction to other people of any gender. Aromanticism is a related spectrum of queer identities entailing little to no romantic attraction or interest in other people of any gender. There is a very broad range of asexual and aromantic experiences, including those that overlap with other queer experiences, including lesbianism. Asexuality is not the same thing celibacy and aromanticism is not the same thing as being single. Rick Riordan does not seem to grasp this, construing his anti-romance portrayal of the Hunters as a haven for aromantic and/or asexual girls such as Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano.

While a community like the Hunters, with its emphasis on rejecting patriarchal, heteronormative standards, would certainly appeal to many aromantic and/or asexual individuals (as well as most other queer people), there are several issues with conflating the lifestyle of Riordan’s Hunters with asexuality/aromanticism.

First, the Hunters in this setting are exclusively young girls, with the oldest being Thalia Grace, who is 15. Feeding into the stereotype that asexual/aromantic people are immature and childish is hardly positive representation. Second, requisite celibacy is not the same thing as natural asexuality. In fact, I find the whole enforced celibacy, anti-romance thing weirdly Catholic and repressive for a group of people devoted to a Pagan goddess of nature and unconventional independence.

I will iterate it again, this is a reductive, ill-fitting application of the ancient concept of virginity that is associated with Artemis. It is valid for modern asexuals and aromantics to admire and relate to the mythology of Artemis, but Riordan’s misapplication of this association does a disservice to asexuals, aromantics, and queer community as a whole. Riordan’s Hunters feed the harmful, incorrect stereotype that asexuals and aromantics look down on all forms of romantic/sexual love (including queer love) and see themselves as superior to the culture of love and sex. This is not positive aromantic/asexual representation.

Part V: Alternative interpretations

With all of this said, the Hunters serve an important narrative role in Riordan’s stories and a lot of potential as an alternative life path for demigods. Abolishing the Hunters would do the story and its setting a disservice; but I believe they should’ve been written very differently.

The Hunters should maintain their core purpose of an uprooted existence, rejecting conventional society to connect with nature. They should provide community for those who are not served by the heteronormative, cisnormative patriarchy. This would include people of all ages, genders, and romantic/sexual identities. There should be an emphasis on solidarity among marginalized sexual and gender identities instead of overt hostility and gatekeeping.

Members of the Hunters should be discharged only when they decide to rejoin mainstream society or settle down with a lifestyle that is incompatible with the aforementioned purpose of the Hunters. I believe this structure would be far more empowering and liberating than what Riordan has envisioned.

#robin text #rick riordan #rrverse #hunters of artemis #artemis #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo

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dawndelion-winery · 11 months

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A Proposition

Fake dating and contract marriages

Ft. Alhaitham, Ayato, Kaveh, Thoma, Zhongli

Alhaitham:

Acting grand sage, respected scholar, rich, young, handsome, there's a bunch of things that make Alhaitham an ideal spouse in name

Which led to a fair bit of unwanted attention

Unwanted because he knew for a fact most people found him quite the intolerable romantic partner - not that he could fault them, for he didn't exactly try to be romantic to begin with

So when you accidentally hold his hand while reaching for a book, he scowled at you, ready for whatever cheesy, unwelcome pickup line you might hurl at him

Except he only got a questioning stare as you asked if you had slighted him in some way

Perhaps it'd be good to have you around, keep his "admirers" at bay

Of course, you're handsomely compensated, his salary allows for that much and more

What he can't seem to allow is you holding his hand

Or making any sort of physical contact, for that matter

He hates how he suddenly finds himself holding his breath when your arms almost brush

He hates the way you somehow draw his gaze towards you when you stand beside him

This wasn't part of the agreement. At some point he asks you to live with him, under the guise of keeping up appearances

You had been dutifully fulfilling your role as his make belief spouse, surely that was why he felt so attached

His reasons are not reasoning, he needs you, he desires you

Well, at least the contract keeps you with him

After all, it wasn't so different from a real marriage, no? Both were contracts of sorts

Yes, he'll satisfy himself with that unless you try to leave

Ayato:

A high ranking official well loved by those under him?

Terribly popular, and yet a situation very unlike Alhaitham's

While yes, he had his fair share of admirers, the issue was with how he knew his staff keenly analysed every interaction he had, eager to spot if he ever took a fancy to anyone

After all, he'd been thrust into responsibility at such a young age, and the elder who'd helped raise him just wanted to see him happily settled down as elders do

So, as considerate as he is, he decides to ease their worries by taking on a pretend lover

Things move fast when you've the entire Kamisato estate and all its staff encouraging your relationship

Meals cooked to perfection, ambience dialed to just the right level of romantic and light-hearted to set the mood for your shared meals

And you will share meals, the staff ensure that much

Fake courtship quickly turns to fake dating, which turns into a whole ass Fake wedding ceremony everyone eagerly wishes you well with

Worst of all is how you seem to be the only one worried about the contract

Ayato? He hasn't said a word about it since it progressed to an engagement, easily going with the flow and taking you to choose a ring

Of course, you assumed this was part of the deal with how normally he treated it, but you couldn't help but be doubtful since marriage was a pretty big deal

You were inclined to believe Ayato was an incredibly convincing actor until he kissed you after he said his vows

"Despite the circumstances that brought us together, I have to say, I never quite expected you to find a home in my heart so easily. I can only hope I've a similar lodging in yours, and that you continue to trust in me, as you have thus far."

Kaveh:

He couldn't date - not when he only brought misery to those around him

It was what he'd gaslighted himself into believing until Alhaitham got sick of it and hired you to be his pretend spouse

You were quite confused when Alhaitham had approached you, not expecting a man of his status to require your services

Even more confused when you find he hadn't even sought you out for himself, commissioning you to play the role of his roommate's lover

Still, Alhaitham paid well, and surely, the roommate of such an esteemed person had to be good company, right?

Your jaw dropped to the ground when you realised it was Sumeru's star architect

Your worst mistake was probably assuming Kaveh knew about the contract

Poor guy was panicked as hell when you sidled up to him and slipped your hand in his

Until Alhaitham explained the situation and frankly, if you were doing it to make a quick buck of Alhaitham? He could respect the hustle

So he lets you dote on him

And it's nice...he fears...he starts to enjoy it

And he feels so terribly guilty because how dare he covet you when you're only in it for the contract

So he tries to open up to you in the hopes you start to fall for him even if only s little bit

And of course you pick up on it because Kaveh is a wreck when it comes to his emotions

There's no helping him once he's attached, he all but begs Alhaitham to keep paying you to stay

And you continue to take the money because cash is cash and it lets you spoil Kaveh

You're essentially given an allowance to be Kaveh's doting spouse

Maybe one day Kaveh will catch onto how you reciprocate his fondness, but hopefully not before you've gotten enough out of Alhaitham's pocket to live comfortably

Thoma:

As much as Ayato and Ayaka adore him, they do worry his life centres around being their housekeeper

They appreciate his work, truly, but they can't help but want him to have other activities he enjoys

Of course Thoma insists he simply enjoys his job, to which there's nothing either Kamisato can do about it except remind him that he's free to change his mind since they've complete faith in his ability to balance work and life

So naturally he finds you, a charming outlander wandering around Ritou, and proposes you pretend to date him

The story was simple enough, he was showing you around and you bonded over having to assimilate into Inazuman culture

It wasn't entirely false, since you did bond a fair bit over that

Maybe a little too much

It was simply so convenient, so easy to be together, that at some point, the two of you had quite forgotten about the deal entirely

That much made itself apparent with the matching wedding bands on your fingers

Zhongli:

Who more likely to propose such a contract than the god of contracts himself?

A loving spouse is simply part of the package to being your average joe among humans, he hears, so why wouldn't he try his best to blend in?

Of course, he'd never impose something like that upon his citizens and simply pick a spouse to his liking - he'd outgrown that immature, thoughtless, tyrannical phase of his life

Instead, he happens upon you in the lap of one of the statues of seven, absently tracing his stone chest as you murmured your worries

A strange sight, admittedly, but it wasn't unheard of for some believers to be...exceptionally devoted

It seemed he provided you some solace even in his "death", and that made you the perfect candidate

He courts you formally, conversing with you naturally like you'd known each other all your lives

But of course that wasn't nearly enough

He had to stand out, he knew that much

Which is why in his eyes, he let a bit of his old self show - the cold, reptilian gaze of his dragon self seeming to pierce through you

As patient and gentlemanly as Zhongli makes himself out to be when he's with you, he's nothing short of calculative

He feels the rush of heat to your face when you notice him glaring subtly at some poor fool who dares to cover you with their mortal eyes, he noticed the way your breath catches when he leads you with a firm hand on your shoulder, holding you close to him in a sort of half embrace

He knows you're falling

And in your infatuation, he is certain he's charmed you enough to make a proposition: be his. Help him keep up appearances

He seals the deal by revealing his draconic form to you, in all its intimidating glory

There's a different sharpness, a fearsome edge to him that you're certain he never had before and yet it has you rooted to the spot, eyes glued to him

There's a finality in his tone, a possessiveness as he presents the yellowed certificate to you, scaled, clawed hands holding a pen as he patiently waits for you to sign

And he knows you will

Zhongli is thorough in his act, so much so it may as well be true

As you play your role to the best of your ability, he plays his to perfection, the ideal husband

It's enough to convince you he truly did fall head over heels in love with you, and yours believe it if you hadn't been informed of the contract at the very start

Make no mistake though, you are in no way encouraged to believe it's an act. He will convince you it's real by any means he deems necessary

After all, it's a contract that will only terminate with your death, so why not believe his every word when he so earnestly takes care of you?

Happy belated birthday @zhongrin !! Hope you enjoyed your husbands<3

Taglist: @myluvkeiji @aqui-soba @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @chaosinanutshell @heizours @haliyamori @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating @cxlrose @astrequa @lemonswriting @eowinthetraveller @ajaxstar @boundedbyfate @the-lost-anime-dad @moonbyunniee @greyrain23 @heavenlyfloof

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burningvelvet · 5 months

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Why Mr. Rochester and Bertha Mason Couldn't Get a Legal Separation; or, the Utter Madness of Marital Laws

So I saw a Jane Eyre post discussing why Mr. Rochester and Bertha Mason couldn't get a legal marital separation. I've thought a lot about this topic, and in order to procrastinate writing the final for my upper-level Brontë class, I've decided to write this sort of convoluted analysis instead. I know many others have written about this subject, but I wanted to explore a bit further on my own.

Preliminary context about me, the Brontës, their Byronic inspiration, etc.: I've learned a lot about 19th century British marriage laws recently in my classes on old British literature, as well as by having studied Byron, whose marital separation in 1816 was a notorious part of his history & also reverberated through 19c literature. He refers to this separation in many of his works, most famously in his notorious poem "Fare Thee Well." Harriet Beecher Stowe, the most famous American female writer at the time, was friends with Lady Byron and wrote a book defending her called "Lady Byron Vindicated: A history of the Byron controversy from its beginning in 1816 to the present time" (the original callout post).

Insanity accusations did factor in to Byron's separation. Many scholars have remarked how the Queens of Byronic Criticism, the Brontë sisters, took significant inspiration from their well-worn copy of Moore's biography Life of Byron when creating their works. The Brontës would have been very familiar with marriage laws not only due to their knowledge of Byron's trainwreck of a marriage, but also due to being well-educated women at the time who knew that marriage was the most important economic decision of one's life and could very well make or break a person. As a result, marriage plays a significant role in their novels.

More relevant preliminary context about the novel: Jane Eyre actually takes place in the Georgian era, despite most adaptations and anaysis presenting is as a Victorian piece due to the novels publication date (this drives me crazy; same goes for the other Brontë books). Marriage laws did not change drastically from the time the novel is set to the time Brontë was writing the novel, but things were a bit different socially. Rochester was also married 15 years before his attempt to marry Jane. According to this very good analysis, Rochester and Bertha probably married in or around the year 1793: https://jane-eyre.guidesite.co.uk/timeline.

Now, here are the reasons why Rochester couldn't separate from Bertha:

1) Insanity wasn't grounds for divorce/separation in the Regency era.

Rochester himself says that he couldn't legally separate from her because of her insanity, which presumably rendered any of her faults null on the grounds of that marital vow "in sickness and in health." This is possibly one of his biggest reasons:

"I was rich enough now – yet poor to hideous indigence: a nature the most gross, impure, depraved I ever saw, was associated with mine, and called by the law and by society a part of me. And I could not rid myself of it by any legal procedings: for the doctors now discovered that my wife was mad — her excesses had prematurely developed the germs of insanity [..]"

2) Divorce was nearly impossible anyway.

There had only been around 300 divorces in English history at the time. Almost all of them were husbands divorcing their wives for committing adultery. Only a handful of divorces had succesfully been obtained by women, and they were only in cases where the husband had committed incestuous adultery or bigamy, and was extremely physically cruel. So technically after his bigamy attempt, Bertha may have had more grounds to obtain a divorce than Rochester would have, if only she were lucid enough to do so. However, in that scenario infertility would have helped their case, and Adèle's existence would have harmed their case if he attempted to seek a divorce before marrying Jane. Though as the novel explains, Adèle is probably not his, she definitely would have been used against him, as would the fact that he kept Bertha's existence a secret in England. But he wouldn't have tried for divorce that late in the game anyway, considering it was one of the most difficult options.

3) Female adultery was your best bet at divorce or separation, and this probably wasn't applicable to Mr. & Mrs. Rochester.

Although some scholars claim that there is subtext hinting that Bertha was adulterous (which some adaptations, like the 2006, include), you needed substantial proof of the adultery, which Rochester may not have had if it did occur. Being a proud man, he also wouldn't have wanted to be humiliated in that way by letting it be publicly known (as shame is one of his main reasons for hiding their marriage to begin with).

However, I lean toward the idea that Bertha may not have committed adultery. If she definitively did, seeing how affected Rochester was by Céline cheating on him (he shot her lover in revenge and left her with a stipend), if he ever suspected adultery on Bertha's part then I'm sure he would have been at court the very next day. I also think Rochester tries not to be too much of a hypocrite, and he is well aware that he himself is an adulterer, so he probably doesn't want to accuse Bertha of a crime he's committed and which he couldn't definitively prove she did.

Rochester does talk about hating Bertha's "vices" when they lived together, citing drinking, arguing, cruelty to servants, cursing, her being "unchaste," a "harlot," etc. - the last epithets, combined with her supposed lack of morality, and her being described as seductive, heavily imply that adultery could be added to her list of offenses. However, if she did truly cheat on him as well, I don't see why he wouldn't plainly tell this to Jane as well. I would imagine it would be his first complaint, and it would probably be considered his most justifiable reason against her by their cultural standards.

I don't see why he wouldn't jump to take Bertha's infidelity as an opportunity to defend his own actions, considering how open he is with Jane about his own adultery and being cheated on by Cèline Varens. While I can see how some of the textual evidence may strongly suggest Bertha's adultery, we cannot be fully certain, and that may be because Rochester himself is not fully certain. I cannot see why he wouldn't have sought legal advice on that account alone.

In short, if Bertha was an adulterer, there must have been no evidence to convict her.

Also: while the double-standard may seem odd and trivial to us, the reason why female adultery held more weight than male adultery has entirely to due with old patriarchal inheritance laws; i.e the risk of a wife getting extramaritally pregnant and passing the illegitimate child off as her husband's heir was considered too great of an affront. A man could have as many bastards as he wanted because he would know they were bastards and were not at risk of inheriting his stuff. One needed legitimate heirs to justify passing on one's ancestral wealth to. Essentially, marriage was a mere economic tool, and the economy was and is inherently patriarchal. I digress.

4) Rochester's lack of social & economic leverage, and risk of social ruin in general.

Only the wealthiest of the wealthy could obtain divorce or official separation, and it often led to social ruin. Rochester is rich, but he has no title and no great network of supporters due to being a younger son and having been abroad for most of the past 15 years (this was the length of his marriage to Bertha, stated by Mr. Briggs during the bigamous wedding attempt). He doesn't have as much leverage as Lord and Lady Byron had.

To continue on official separation, like Lady and Lord Byron obtained. Just like divorce, this was also a messy and scandalous legal proceeding, and required numerous good reasons to obtain, and being well-connected Lords and Ladies really helped your case. You also needed many witnesses and written statements as evidence. Bertha's family, as we see with Mason, would have been unhelpful to Rochester, and due to his shame and secrecy, no one could really testify on his behalf I'm assuming.

5) Unofficial separation would have been inconvenient, especially in regards to living situations.

Aside from divorce, which was extremely rare, extremely controversial, and only for the wealthiest members of society — there were unofficial and official separations. An unofficial separation was simply living apart from one another. I've often wondered why Rochester didn't simply move Grace Poole and Bertha somewhere else, but my main theory is that it would have been cost ineffective, and due to his family who were implied to be shitty, he probably really didn't want to live at Thornfield anyway so thought it would be convenient to place her there. Rochester says it would be dangerous to place her in his other residence of Ferndean:

"[..] though I possess an old house, Ferndean Manor, even more retired and hidden than this, where I could have lodged her safely enough, had not a scruple about the unhealthiness of the situation, in the heart of a wood, made my conscience recoil from the arrangement. Probably those damp walls would soon have eased me of her charge: but to each villain his own vice; and mine is not a tendency to indirect assassination, even of what I most hate."

6) Annulment was likely impossible given their circumstances.

Annulment means evaporating the marriage, acting as if it never existed, that it was a mistake. This was rare and only granted in unique circumstances, and I believe it was more common with aristocracy and royals. I believe you could possibly get an annulment if you could prove that the spouse was insane at the time of the wedding and you did not know. However, Bertha did not begin to truly deteriorate until after they had been living together for a bit. And while Rochester says that he did not know her mother was in an asylum until after the wedding, having an insane mother doesn't mean that you are insane, which Bertha clearly wasn't at that point, at least not in a way that people would have publicly acknowledged, since Rochester says she attended parties and her hand was highly sought after.

Generally, the longer a marriage had gone on, the harder it was to prove why it could not go on. Rochester says that he and Bertha "lived together" for "four years" in Jamaica while her condition deteriorated and he tried to make things work. And again, after the wedding he found out her mother was "mad, and shut up in a lunatic asylum." So we have more reasons for Rochester's difficulty: the fear of Bertha going to an asylum while she was still mostly lucid in those first four years, combined with the fact that they openly lived together and certainly must have consummated their marriage (things which would further prevent annulment), and were certainly publicly recognized as a couple in Spanish Town society, and her family wanting the marriage to continue so she could have children of "good race" i.e. to produce heirs.

Here's an important passage that to me suggests that Rochester and Bertha not only had an initial flirtation but likely consummated their marriage, likely had a passionate sexual relationship for some time, and likely implies his feelings for her were more complex than we'd initially assume, making annulment not so clear-cut of an option to him at the time:

"My father said nothing about her money; but he told me Miss Mason was the boast of Spanish Town for her beauty: and this was no lie. I found her a fine woman, in the style of Blanche Ingram; tall, dark, and majestic. Her family wished to secure me because I was of a good race; and so did she. They showed her to me in parties, splendidly dressed. I seldom saw her alone, and had very little private conversation with her. She flattered me, and lavishly displayed for my pleasure her charms and accomplishments. All the men in her circle seemed to admire her and envy me. I was dazzled, stimulated: my senses were excited; and being ignorant, raw, and inexperienced, I thought I loved her. There is no folly so besotted that the idiotic rivalries of society, the prurience, the rashness, the blindness of youth, will not hurry a man to its commission. Her relatives encouraged me; competitors piqued me; she allured me: a marriage was achieved almost before I knew where I was. Oh, I have no respect for myself when I think of that act! — an agony of inward contempt masters me. I never loved, I never esteemed, I did not even know her."

7) Spousal abandonment wasn't possible, and on some level he honored his legal and financial obligations to her and the Mason family.

Bertha's family likely refused to house her for legal and personal reasons, and spousal abandonment was forbidden due to the husband's financial responsibility as well as the law of coverture (a wife became her husband's full legal responsibility; some say "property"). Like we see in Anne's Tenant of Wildfell Hall, if a woman ran away from their spouse they would have to live in obscurity and be at risk of being sussed out. You couldn't just abandon your partner. Still, people did, because it was the easiest route to take.

But the more upper-class you were, and the more financial entanglements you had, the more inconvenient this was. We know that Rochester and his family became enmeshed with the Mason family, and he got a lot of money from Bertha, so her father likely would have taken him to court. At any rate, Rochester was legally bound to bring Bertha with him to England when he left Jamaica. If he attempted to abandon her in Jamaica, the backlash it would have brought would have brought him social ruin and foiled his chances at getting away with any bigamy attempts.

All this brings us to a further notice of Bertha's family situation. Based on Charlotte Brontë's positive comments about Rochester's character (https://www.tumblr.com/burningvelvet/731403104856195072/in-a-letter-to-w-s-williams-14-august-1848) I see no reason to suspect him, like many feminist critics do, of being an unreliable narrator or of lying about Bertha Mason's history. Everyone is entitled to their opinions, and in mine, that is simply not the novel Charlotte wrote. By her own admission, she wanted his narrative to be a path to further goodness.

It makes no narrative sense for our explanation of his and Bertha's history to be full of lies when he's trying to make ammends with Jane, who never suspects him of lying during his admission, but who does critique him and figure he'd tire of her like she was one of his many mistresses. Jane wonders if Rochester would lock her in an attic too, which he refutes on the basis that he loves her more than he loved Bertha when she was sane, and so he would care for Jane himself. Jane also tells him that it's not Bertha's fault that she's mad. So in my opinion, if Charlotte wanted us to believe Rochester was lying about his and Bertha's history to make himself look better or Bertha look worse, I don't see why she would have been vague about it, and I don't see why Jane wouldn't have called it out like she does everything else. I don't think Rochester is really a villain who locked his harmless wife in the attic for giggles; I think he weighed most of his options and found, like most people back then and even today, that keeping his problems locked up and ignored was the best solution.

Now, on with the point. I have often wondered why Rochester didn't simply "unofficially separate" from Bertha by leaving her with her family when he left. Why did he take her to England? Why didn't he just run away? It wasn't because he was an evil villain who wanted to keep her as a trophy. It's because 1) I don't think her father would have let him, as he was so quick to marry her off, 2) he felt obligated to her, and 3) it was criminal for men to abandon their wives, and it would have attracted publicity, which is what Rochester was avoiding by taking Bertha to England and sheltering her in secrecy.

Many claim that Rochester's adultery is a betrayal of his wife; and while religiously, narratively, socially, we can accept this statement, it was not legally a crime. While Rochester does honor his financial and legal obligations to his wife and her family, he does not take the religious part of the vows into account, and that's why he's cosmically punished and only rewarded after he repents, as he explains toward the end of the novel.

Another interesting point is that when Rochester recounts his decision to move back to England, he tells us that Bertha had already been declared insane in Jamaica and that she was already confined there (presumably around the 4 year anniversary before they left), meaning her father probably knew about confinement:

"One night I had been awakened by her yells (since the medical men had pronounced her mad, she had of course been shut up) — it was a fiery West Indian night; [..]"

Locking away "insane" people was standard procedure then, and if this was done with Bertha's father's knowledge, considering he locked his own wife away in an asylum, then this further absolves Rochester of a lot of the blame in my opinion. It more than likely wasn't his idea to lock her away, but the advice of "the medical men" and presumably her father's consultation as well.

8) Even if he divorced or separated from her, he couldn't remarry. Attempting these, or getting caught attempting abandonment, would have brought negative publicity that would have likely prevented the success of any future bigamy attempts. To him, secrecy and bigamy seemed better chances at securing happiness than the social ruin and likely failure the other options would have brought him.

Aside from Rochester's own explanation (which I supplied in #2 re: the separation veto inherent to Bertha's insanity), the other biggest reason as to why Rochester wouldn't seek a separation/divorce even if she hadn't been declared insane and even if he were willing to accuse her of adultery truthfully or not, is due to the fact that one could not legally remarry upon separation or divorce (unless you were Henry VIII and got God's permission lol). Rochester's impossible dream is that he wants to be married to someone he really loves, and if secrecy and bigamy are his only options then he is willing to succumb; this is shown in numerous passages:

"[..] I could reform — I have strength yet for that — if— but where is the use of thinking of it, hampered, burdened, cursed as I am? Besides, since happiness is irrevocably denied me, I have a right to get pleasure out of life: and I will get it, cost what it may."

"I will keep my word: I will break obstacles to happiness, to goodness — yes, goodness; I wish to be a better man than I have been; than I am — as Job's leviathan broke the spear, the dart, and the habergeon, hinderances which others count as iron and brass, I will esteem but straw and rotten wood."

"Is there not love in my heart, and constancy in my resolves? It will expiate at God's tribunal. I know my Maker sanctions what I do. For the world's judgment — I wash my hands thereof. For man's opinion — I defy it."

Closing remarks on the above's validity: I can't cite all my sources because a lot of this stuff I learned from lectures via my professor who specializes in 19th century English literature & history. But here's some recently published information from a historian, taken from "Inside the World of Bridgerton: True Stories of Regency High Society" by Catherine Curzon (2023):

"And if you were one of the newly-weds, you really did hope things would work out, because in the Regency till death do us part wasn't just an expression. As the Prince Regent himself had learned when he separated from his wife within eighteen months of their marriage, obtaining a divorce in Regency England was no easy matter. He never achieved it, and for those who did the stakes could be high and the cost ruinous in every sense."

"Until the passing of the Matrimonial Causes Act of 1857, which legalized divorce in the civil courts, it was governed by the ecclesiastical courts, and the Church didn't end a marriage without very, very good reason. Even these divorces didn't allow a couple to remarry, though, and they were more akin to what we would today call a legal separation, with no shared legal or financial responsibilities going forward. It was freedom, but only to a point."

"The only way to obtain a complete dissolution that allowed for remarriage was to secure a parliamentary divorce, and these were notoriously difficult to obtain. They began with a criminal conversation case, because they relied on adultery by one of the parties to make them even a slight possibility. If a woman committed crim. con., her life in polite society was over."

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abyssruler · 2 years

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cyno x gn!reader

“You’ll like him, I promise!”

“If he’s anything like you, I suppose.”

“Well…” You trail off, imagining you and your brother growing up and constantly being told how different the two of you are, from your personalities down to your looks. “Anyway! He can be a bit of a dummy, but he means well.”

Cyno nods, a thoughtful frown on his lips as he crosses his arms and waits for your brother to arrive at your meeting spot.

You spy the eye-catching ahoge from a mile away. You beam, raising your hand in a wave and turning to your partner beside you—only to blink as you realize that he left without your notice.

The sound of steel against steel in the distance blares an alarm in your head. Frantic, you whip your head to the direction of the sound and find two very familiar individuals duking it out.

Oh no.

“Big brother Haitham, stop!”

They both freeze at the sound of your voice for two completely different reasons.

Al-Haitham pulls you behind him and points his sword at your very confused partner, uncharacteristically slow to connect the dots. “Choose your next actions carefully, Cyno.”

Cyno completely lowers his weapon as he switches his gaze between the two of you as if in disbelief that Al-Haitham, the so-called Akademiya lunatic who he’s barely spoken two words to, is your older brother. You, the light of his life—but also an Akademiya drop out who only managed to get in through sheer luck after your random answers on the entrance examination turned out to be right—were related to him?

Impossible.

…Or so he would have thought a minute ago before his world was turned upside down and his partner’s brother wasn’t the most suspicious person in Cyno’s eyes.

My brother is really smart like you! He’s really nice and he used to help me study for my tests back when I still went to the Akademiya. A little, um, mean—but he’s actually a good person!

Hah, mean. A large understatement. It would equate to a scholar calling the General Mahamatra benign.

He suppose he should have expected it from you. You do have the tendency to think the best of people, even when they don’t deserve it.

“Brother.” You tug on Al-Haitham’s arm to bring his sword down, but he refuses to do so, unwilling to take his eyes off Cyno. Huffing in annoyance, you stomp on his feet and feel immense satisfaction when he turns his head to glare at you.

“This isn’t the time—”

“He’s Cynie!”

There’s a joke to be made about a pin dropping in the silence after your words and your brother’s dawning look of realization and the skepticism that follows.

He whirls his head to Cyno and points, “That’s Cynie?”

You nod with a growing smile, delighted that your brother finally lowered his sword so you can come up to Cyno and drag him close by the arm. “Cynie, meet my brother, Haitham!”

“…I told you not to call me that in front of others.”

“But it’s cute!”

“Only when we’re alone.” To this, he sends a baleful glare to Al-Haitham that your brother returns with a glare of his own.

“Oh, please. My sibling has told me everything that’s happened in your relationship,” then, as if to add salt to the wound, he strictly emphasizes, “Cynie.”

A muscle in your partner’s brow twitches.

“It’s great that you two are getting along!” You exclaim with a smile that could rival the sun.

They can’t say no to that face. They both have no choice but to reluctantly grumble a hesitant ‘yes…’ that has your eyes shining bright.

“I have our outing planned for today! I saw a promo in a restaurant that said if you can finish some kind of large meal in under an hour, you don’t have to pay for it! Not too sure how big it is, but I know I can eat it all. I also passed by this really cool place yesterday…”

They let you drag them by the arm across the city, shooting glares at each other and throwing subtle barbs when they think you aren’t looking.

You called that day the ‘brothers-in-law bonding day’. They hated every second of it and vowed to never talk to the other again.

Unless you asked them to, of course.

#in case ur wondering reader knows they dont like each other but is choosing not to acknowledge it #reader: i pretend i do not see 😑#in the canon serious x airhead au haitham and reader aren’t related at all but instead good friends bc reader finds haithams sassiness funny #oh wow there’s canon and non canon versions now…..anyway #i love me my grumpy and sunshine trope it will always remain superior <3 #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #cyno x reader #genshin cyno x reader #gn reader #serious x airhead

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barib-yariel · 6 months

Text

Taking accountability for my actions

I would like to apologize to the global feminist movement.

A little while ago I stated that rape was bad. In this bigoted, ignorant and racist remark I irresponsibly ignored the fact rape can actually be good. for example, when marginalized people of color (armed terrorists) are doing it to their oppressors (tied up civilian women they just kidnapped), and maybe even healing (they are screaming allahu akbar while doing it and posting the videos online).

I understand now that by making the horrible statement I was siding with the colonizers and causing further trauma to my comrades in gaza but more importantly, in colleges and universities in the west.

After listening to the wise scholars of tiktok and tumblr, I now recognize that rape is bad only when the global left morally approves of the people who are being raped. otherwise, it's "punching up".

I vow to educate myself on the matter, check my privilege and unlearn my biases.

#israel #palestine #barib yariel #ישראבלר

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alexanderlightweight · 20 days

Text

I miss writing. I miss malec

I plot in my head every night but it’s not the same.

I miss writing about how Magnus and Alec tease and find and appreciate and murder for each other and how much they love each other.

I miss Team Immortal and how Magnus and Cat and Ragnor and magical rituals and the spiral labyrinth politics and the finer elements of magical and warlock culture and

I miss diving into world building with magical botony and zoology and thread magic to pocket dimensions. How magic isn’t equal and there’s different levels and wild nature magic. The way that while the spiral labyrinth has changed and evolved, that it still holds to the very oldest of rituals. Everything carefully and continually read by each new Elder and the acolytes of the library learn by trade. Because knowledge isn’t kept in books alone. There are singing histories and spells kept alive by enchanted pieces and the memories of those devoted to learning. Carving and thread work and rituals in tapestry or furniture.

(Because elder isn’t a title based on just age but also elder knowledge. Warlocks who especially dedicate themselves to either singular or a plethora of fields and excel at creation and learning become elders. The very best researchers and scholars of the wealth of knowledge and magical prowess. Being an elder isn’t just a perk it’s a dedication and an oath to the protection and betterment of their people. Active oaths to keep them from stagnating in the decades of immortality and aging.

If you truly start slacking or losing your way, the magic prods you. Eventually you are forced to make a choice, forsake your roll as an Elder and retract and be released from your vows. Or uphold them. )

Metalworking and leather working and the labyrinth contains it all.

I love expanding on the shadowworld and the different ways magic is used by each race and how they all separately interact with the outskirts of the mundane world.

Of figuring out how a warrior society would work and the different styles of life that could have evolved.

And how much sheer adoration and platonic love is between the three of them. And the trust.

Because even when Ragnor is ignoring Magnus (a petty fight that turned into a research binge that turned into a few more years of silence than intended while Ragnor experimented in a pocket library) Magnus is still going to show up and make sure he’s fed and hydrated because the pettiness never outweighs the care.

(Cat has spells on all their vitals and vise versa. But she sent Magnus over with an excuse around year theee when she figured Ragnor had just lost track of time. Magnus doesn’t even remember that Ragnor was being petty and Ragnor doesn’t remember the argument at all).

I miss Alec figuring out what he enjoys and that he’s allowed to enjoy.

Honestly I got a little off track but I’ve been wanting to write malec and post for so long.

I miss the interactions and comments and looking forward to new Wednesday prompts. I miss writing Wednesdays so much and I’m looking forward to starting them up again when I’m healed :/

This took about an hour to write the first time but half got deleted and had to be rewritten when Nightshade started barking outside (it’s past the neighborhood noise curfew and I had to run to grab him so we stayed polite).

Nightshade likes to go outside and ‘guard’ the house for a bit every night before his door gets locked shut for bed, but since bed is subjective to my insomnia and not his sleep schedule he sometimes goes to ‘guard’ rather late. He huffily settled in his crate, perturbed I wouldn’t let him ‘protect’ the House.

Honestly I’m just happy I can write on my phone without a ton of pain anymore.

💜 lumine

The House made a rule (without me lol I was outvoted) that every time anyone buys anything they have to consider if it’s for public House use and if it is, how likely I am to injure myself with it. Or how likely is it to randomly break and hurt me.

It’s very sweet but I hate that it says something that they all agreed. It’s also hilarious because I’m the one who does all the yard work (I’ve had to delay fertilizing for a month and had to stop PT for 3.5 weeks while it healed enough for me to go) so I have axes, clippers, trimmers I use frequently.

#lumine talks to ppl #lumine talks #lumine is tired #lumine writes #lumines world building #malec #team immortal #shadowhunters #lumine is injured/sick… again

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mx-jinxous · 8 months

Text

Steve groaned at the light that invaded his closed eyes, trying to hide his face in the pillows. It had been nearly a week since he was kidnapped and, not for his lack of trying, had done his best to seclude himself. His first night after his recapture Steve had tried to escape through the door only for it to remain bolted in place. The only way out was when someone came to check on him, however, since the escape he’s only allowed to have visitors of two or greater so he couldn’t pull any more tricks.

Typically that left him with Gareth who was Joyce’s guard dog, very rarely was there anyone else. The woman seemed to be his designated babysitter, regardless that his wound and illness had cleared up. It was rare that she wasn’t the one bringing his food, clothes, or anything to get him to speak.

Since he was recaptured he’d taken a vow of silence, noting how Joyce was the only one not giving in to the irritation. Any conversation was carried by her while he made a point to remain quiet. Steve spent most of his alone time reading the books the healer continued to bring in, trying to find something to occupy his time.

Kas had yet to make an appearance to make demands, or to punish him for slapping, so he was surprised he got to keep his hand after all that. He didn’t believe the king was keeping away from him, not trusting Joyce not to say everything he had said, no matter how small it was. Steve had denied several calls He refused to act like he was happy to be forced into this life.

That’s how he found himself curled up in his nice, yet temporary, bed, boots tossed on the ground carelessly while he read one of the various books. He’d made it several chapters into the tales of a knight and a scholar when the door opened to Joyce and Gareth, taking it upon themselves to be invited in, Steve choosing to ignore them.

“Afternoon you sire. How are you feeling this day?” The healer asked like every day with the same patient smile. He just shrugged, keeping his head in the book. “I see you have moved on to a new book. What is this one about?” Her tone was softer, like she always did, all the while Gareth just glared. Neither boy trusted the other, the tension so thick you could run a blade through it, leading to a silent waiting game. “Could you possibly set it down and follow us? King Kas has ordered you to have an audience with him.”

“He can shove it. I’m done talking with him and if he is so dead set on conversing with me he can drag his royal hiney to my jail cell.” Steve scoffed, flipping through the book even though his attention was lost on it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Gareth’s chest puff out.

“Guard captain, would you give us a moment alone?” Joyce’s smile went straight, eyes not leaving Steve.

“You know the rules.”

“I do, however, I need privacy with a patient. The king will understand.”

“I do not believe he would.” The young guard scoffed.

“How about you both take this out there, it’s hard enough reading this book without arguing. If he wants to speak to me I’m not going to play the good little prisoner, so he can march his ass down here.” Steve growls, losing all hope to even get back into the thrilling tale.

“Your attitude is due for an adjustment.” Gareth doubled down, the two glaring at one another.

“Enough boys. If the king wishes to have a word with me after his meeting then we shall. Now out.” Joyce huffed, shoving the guard towards the door. He left with mumbles, leaving a door cracked to keep an eye on the two.

Once she knew they were going to have an uninterrupted meeting, her attention fully returned to Steve. “May I sit?”

“You’ll do it anyway, not like there is anything I can do to stop you.”

“Contrary to popular belief, well more like rumored, I do have manners. If you are not comfortable with my presence in close quarters then I will not invade your space.”

“Just sit before can-man freaks out and comes back in.” She did as told, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“How is your arm feeling?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does. Your arm had a minor infection from whatever concoction Brenner laced the knife with. I would like to repay you for bringing him to face judgment.” She spoke, holding out a hand. Steve dragged his eyes to the woman, trying to analyze her motives.

“It wasn’t my doing. He offered to help and turned out to be a psycho. Just another shitty day.” He grumbled, laying his arm in her hand.

“Well, I would say that your shitty day has truly been the best day for me. Do you mind a story while I examine your injury?”

“Sure, might as well.”

Joyce removed the wrapping on his arm before speaking, looking at the angry red slash. If he’d been at home he’d have picked up some ointment, but sadly he’s stuck here indefinitely. “Brenner used to be a well-respected man in our court, a man of science. Sadly, he was obsessed with breaking magic down to a scientific level. My husband and I assumed he was crazy but harmless. In a moment of distraction, he managed to kidnap my daughter and younger son.”

She rotated his arm, looking at the cut before placing a glowing hand over the wound. “Will never spoke about what occurred, but Ellie said he tried to experiment with magic properties and the twin’s bond. Kas had ordered his head, but he had escaped. It took a while for them to be a fraction of who they were. Will is timid and El tries to act strong for both of them, but she pulls in sometimes. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you for bringing him back to us for punishment.” Pulling her hand away the skin looked less angry, smaller even. Joyce lathered his arm with some paste before wrapping a clean bandage around it. Steve didn’t say anything, just watched her tightening the wrap.

“I don’t understand why he was so obsessed. He was going to kill me for this bracelet, which I don’t understand the hype about it. I’m sure King Asshole has a whole stash.”

“This bracelet has a special place in the royal family. I am certain the king will explain to you if you would ask. Possibly in exchange for information on how you managed to obtain it.” Steve pulled his arm back, holding it to his chest as he looked over the gem. “So what? You can go and relay it to your boss. I told the truth, the king gave it to me.”

“If you dare to trust this old soul, I will see if it is worth telling the king I will tell the bare minimum. If I see nothing useful then it shall stay between us.”

“No offense, but why should I trust you? I have no ties to you.”

“Trust that as a mother, I owe you. A mother’s love is stronger than loyalty.” Steve huffed, curling into himself. He didn’t know what a mother’s love was like, his mother loved possession over him, and that’s what led him into this mess. He only worked because his parents forced him out of the only home he ever knew. A mother’s love is a cold, brutal, and empty thing.

Joyce seemed to notice his withdrawal, “You are not close to your mother?”

“No. I was a necessity, not a want. She constantly reminded me how I ruined her body. To say we weren’t close is an understatement. She never wanted me and blames me when good ole dad decides to be unfaithful.”

“I am truly sorry that your family is so frigid. I never have agreed with people having children as a lineage requirement. It has proven to be a cold performance, a loveless act.”

“I grew used to it, often left alone to my own devices.”

“They sound like unfit parents. A child is a blessing and I am sorry that you have an unfair, unloving pair.” He shrugs, fiddling with the gem on the bracelet. “It is their loss. I hardly know you, yet you have proved to be a decent young man.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I would like to know you, as a citizen instead of a prisoner.” She smiled gently, offering out a hand. “If you join me to the king and tell your side, I promise that I can show you what a real parent is. I will pledge to you in front of the king, that you will live with my family, no guards or magic locks.”

“You would take in a dangerous taking in a man that has proven to be a threat.” Steve never took his eyes off her hand, contemplating in his head.

“I see only a scared man, a protector. You could have killed that guard or Brenner. Instead, you only subdued them in order to escape. I do not assume you find joy in harming people let alone children.” He remained silent, avoiding her eyes. “I have faith that you are a threat when you are as I see you, a scared man in a strange situation. I do not agree with the way they treat you like you are a threat when you seem forced into this situation. We are not terrible people, just wary of what has happened. Please allow us the chance to prove that our initial response was not a true representation of our people.” Her hand hovered between them, unwavering with patience.

Steve never called himself smart, he’s got a big heart that led him blindly into hurt. He didn’t know this woman aside from who she worked for and the patience to wait out his stubbornness. He’d have to be a complete idiot to blindly trust her, but he has been craving the outside for a week.

“Can we go outside, give me a moment in the sun before facing his royal asshat?” He hesitated before taking her hand. Joyce smiled, nodding as she waited a moment to see if the young man was going to back out.

“We can go visit the gardens before we visit King Kas. I believe my children are having class outside. You would get to meet those you avenged.”

“I guess.” He mumbled as she helped him climb from the bed, the healer pulling him from the room. They stopped in front of Gareth, who looked irate as he held up shackles. Joyce held a hand up to stop him, catching the attention of both men.

“No need for that. We will be visiting the garden, please tell the king we are ready for our audience when he is prepared to see us. Do come find us when he is.” Gareth groaned, holding back something before turning and walking away. “Come, young man, let us hurry before we are pulled into a meeting. They are terribly dull as a maiden’s gossip-ridden knitting circle.”

Joyce rolled her eyes, smiling at the young man before turning and leading him down the corridors. When they breached the outside the light invaded Steve’s eyes. He flinched, eyes taking a moment to adjust. When they did he was met with the sight of preteens playing amongst the garden flowers.

They were in a group, some jumping rope with a vine, others playing a game of tag. Off to the side were two men around his age, playing with some flowers as they sat talking and watching the younger children.

Like an alarm went off, attention was dragged to the two, a dozen eyes falling on Steve specifically. They bared into him, studying him like he was some weird specimen to study under a magnifying glass, and to them he probably was. He had climbed out of a grave, dressed in his work clothes, and the first thing he did upon meeting their king was punch him. They seemed on edge, muttering amongst themselves, which put Steve on the edge.

Joyce had waited back, allowing the strangers to grow accustomed to one another. Sadly out of both groups, the only one who seemed to brave it was a young girl. Steve had recognized her from his first trip through the garden, wavy brown hair bouncing as she closed the distance between her and the older boy. Her eyes burrowed into his, trying to peer into his soul for the answer he refused to share.

The young girl came to a stop in front of him, tilting her head without breaking eye contact. Steve could feel the sweat rolling down the back of his neck, the return of the panic that he felt that night in the museum. He didn’t know what this girl could do, but he was her prime focus.

When it felt like too much for his heart to take she took a step forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. He was frozen to the spot, arms held up in uncertainty, gazing over at Joyce. The healer was smiling at her daughter, the young girl's head resting on his chest. Before his mind could even process anything happening she backed away, smiling wide as she gripped his hands in hers.

“Vindex.” Her voice was small, the language something unheard to him. The confusion must have been written on his face because the healer spoke up.

“It means protector or avenger. This is my youngest of the twins, Ellie, but she prefers El.” Her hand tightened, pulling Steve towards the group who still seemed on edge, but less tense.

“Come play with us.”

A laugh left Joyce as the young man stuttered, being dragged into the children’s playing circle. All at once the garden was filled with overstimulating yells from the preteens, screaming over one another as they pulled him into a game. In his overwhelmed state the kids had decided on a game of hide and seek.

He jumped as the young girl pulled him down, and another child tied a blindfold around his eyes. “Do not remove until we are ready, then come find us.”

“W-Wait! What!” His stutters went unheard as they spun him in a circle, giggles echoing Joyce’s warnings of no powers when non-mages are playing. He came to a stop and the giggles disappeared.

“Ready!” One of the boys yelled, Steve hesitantly reaching up to remove the blindfold. The world was still spinning when it came off, nearly toppling over before his eyes settled. When they did, he was greeted with an empty garden. “They are hiding. Perhaps a game with the children will pass enough time till the king calls.” Joyce says from behind, taking a seat on a cement bench.

“I guess it’s better than waiting at his beck and call.” Steve scoffed, looking around the garden and hearing snickers and shaking bushes. A smile slid on his face as he took a step towards the bushes. “Ready or not, here I come!”

Kas groaned as he rubbed his temple as he paused signing another document. He’d been signing since down, his hand was cramping and the words were starting to dance across the page. He’d been waiting all morning to talk with the intruder, who seemed to be a stubborn ass every other time he’d asked. His attitude had begun to get under his skin, despite the pretty face, yet he couldn’t deny that he was looking forward to meeting him again.

When Gareth told him that Joyce had finally wheedled him down into an agreement with him. Unfortunately, the paperwork had to be finished before said meeting could take place and his body was paying for it. Gareth stood against the door, a smirk on his face as he watched Kas’ features shift from annoyance to exhaustion. He knew the king would give up eventually, so he watched, taking in his entertainment. When the limit hit, he threw his head back with a groan louder than his prior ones. A snicker left the guard as he straightened and walked towards the king.

“Giving into the hierarchy’s demands for the evening?”

“Gare these parchments are idiotic and most require to feed the wealthy and leave the poor with nothing. It is exhausting and irritating. I am going on a walk, take a moment to give my body a rest and cleanse my body of all these negativities.” He stood, popping his neck with another groan. “Will you join or stay in this depressing room? I am thinking of checking the gardens.”

“I regret to inform you that the children are using the garden as a classroom. Who am I to presume it is in pristine condition?”

“I need a break, regardless of the mess they have caused, I have not been able to check up on the children. Come, follow me if you wish.” With that, both young men walked from the study. The walk was full of teasing gripes and playful shoves that disappeared once they were in a more public space.

Gareth followed Kas out into the garden, preparing for the loud squeak of the prepubescent, which there was. However, what took both men by surprise was the sight of the intruder blindfolded, hands outstretched. The children were running around him, clapping and yelling to lead him in the opposite direction than they went. He fell for the bait, hearing squeals as he almost captured them. What stuck out was the bright smile that played on his face.

It was the first time he’d seen anything other than a scowl, and it made his face glow and soften.

It was short-lived when he finally caught one of the children, taking the blindfold with a victorious smile. It fell when his eyes set on Kas. They locked eyes and the tension returned with full bloom. The pleasant smile and moment was gone.

———————

To everyone that are interested in keeping up with Set in Stone I have set up a few different ways you can keep up. Unfortunately the tagging process isn’t working for everyone so if you’d like to keep up here are a few options. This will be the last tag set. I will no longer bring tagging in future chapters of just this work.

1. Follow the setinstonesteddie tag on tumblr

2. I made a blog dedicated solely to chapter updates, which can be followed here, any other progress updates will be here on my personal blog.

3. If you have an AO3, you can subscribe to the story here

@steddieas-shegoes @steddie-steddie @paintsplatteredandimperfect @roastingdragon @the-brainr0tt @just-a-tiny-void @swimmingbirdrunningrock @izzy2210 @weirdandabsurd42 @throwbackthrowaway @steve-the-hairrington @loser-of-hearts333 @croatoan-like-its-hot @gingersass @alto-delete @anaibis @limbs-are-optional @thephantomhood @itsall-taken @jamieweasley13 @imfinereallyy @yeahhh-suga @awkotaco24 @aliea82 @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @stxrcrossed186 @emly03 @elviraenthusiast @siriusleeart @fxrgetmenott @amerikanskaya-krassavitsa @noctxrn-e @spicysix @chaosgremlinmunson @lovelyscot @goodolefashionedloverboi @teelagurl558 @seilahtitania32 @sparky-bunny @dontslayfay @amrice @pluckedstrings @plyerice27 @vae1bixy @grtwdsmwhr @vacantwatchers @8em-em-em8 @stevesbipanic @commonxsenss @sani-86 @suikatto @callmesirkay @spideysteveloml @neeerdrage @quevadilla @p0lybl4nkk @thetrueghostqueen @ok-just-why @eyesofshinigami @oxidantdreamboat @platinum-sunset @milottadoodles @chillichats @kyysposts @bookworm0690 @shrimply-a-menace @chocolateracconlights

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #setinstonesteddie

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