#which I why I like the idea of a marriage of alliance and a partner who understands that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

golddaggers · 2 years

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all there's left to do is run

pairing: tommy shelby x reader

warnings: oral sex. arranged marriage trope. no use of y/n.

a/n: so i guess i write for peaky blinders, too. look i don't know. bear with me. i do hope that whoever is reading enjoys this because it's been SO long since i've written something. anything really. so this broke my dry spell. anyways. have fun! watch people behind you leth x

word count: 4k+

The marriage had been a quick affair, done in a matter of a few minutes.

Little words were spoken to you before your mother pulled out her wedding dress from her wardrobe so she could adjust it to your size for the upcoming event. Until today, you had no idea what your husband-to-be even looked like. If he was tall or short, ugly or handsome, mad-evil or somewhat-kind. You didn’t even know his name.

Now you sit at the table and watch him weave through the room’s commotion. Thomas Shelby held everyone’s attention so effortlessly it was like it belonged to him already. An unspoken cover of power that kept them from looking him in the eye unless required to.

There’s a lonely glass of wine before you, shy of a splash left. You had had a glass or two through the night, which was probably why you felt queasy. Whatever is left in your cup, you toss it back before excusing yourself for a puff. The room spun with each step you took towards the exit door.

It’s a hot and humid summer night outside, but it feels a million times better than the claustrophobic snug of the pub. You light a cigarette, taking a quick drag, and then you close your eyes. The smoke makes you cough, so you lean against the bricked wall - its cold surface a soothing remedy to your pounding head.

You always knew this was how your people married. To stitch up wars and bring a notion of peace. To broaden their armies and strengthen their power. But you couldn’t help wanting more. You wanted a devoted husband, who would worship the very ground you walked upon. One that would bring flowers just because. One that would kiss you under the mistletoe on Christmas Eve. You wanted a partner, not an unhappy life meant to bring gangsters a faint idea of an alliance.

Tonight you would be going to someone’s house and were expected to call it home. It was a bit unfair that you couldn’t fully accept them as a family when they had been nothing but kind to you. They offered you drinks, asked you to dance, gave you easy smiles and tried to get to know who you were, beyond your family’s name. His family, Tommy’s, had done their best to make it feel like home. Even when your husband hadn’t tried to make the effort.

A solitary tear slides down your cheek, and you chuckle like a madwoman alone in the street. You didn’t think you’d find him so handsome. You didn’t think you would want to draw his attention. Knowing you hadn’t stung, like a scrape on the knee. His kiss, when pronounced husband and wife, was… contained. Distant. If he kissed a wall he might’ve shown more emotion. You were glad your face was concealed by the white veil soon afterwards, so no one would be able to tell how mortified you felt.

At the beginning of the party, Tommy sat beside you, but he didn’t talk. Your shoulders brushed, briefly, and he stood up in a blink, tumbling out an excuse about getting himself another shot of whisky. All you did was nod, a dumb, silly-woman nod. Your husband slipped away, his coat left hanging in his chair such was the hurry he left with.

You blow smoke out in the air and wipe away the warm tear.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, eh?” His voice cuts through the cold silence. You let out a gasp, in a mix of astonishment and confusion. “Alone out here, do you happen to ‘ave a death fucking wish?”

The answer gets stuck in your throat and Tommy stalks closer. His presence is suffocating, those god-forsaken blue eyes that burn with how cold they are. You’ve never been so affected by a man before, so bewildered. Not one had made words trip out of your lips as sorry apologies.

He takes the cigarette from your hand and finishes it off. All the while looking straight into your eyes, imposing his dominance as if you’re nothing but a tiny little puppy. The thought makes you huff.

“Still waiting for you to tell me just what you think you’re doing out here alone.” Tommy probes further on the subject, now leaning beside you on the wall. “Was the party not good enough for you, Mrs Shelby?”

“Don’t call me that,” You choke the response out, reaching for another cigarette. “And I’m fine. Just a girl having a smoke, what’s the big deal about it?”

“Danger roams this city. Bad men with bad intentions.” His voice dips lower than usual, he’s so close now. “Don’t y’know tha’?”

“Hmm,” This is rich, you muse, the noise you make traipsing between the line of appropriate and disrespectful. “I think, Mr Shelby, that I just married the most dangerous of them all.”

Tommy smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes, then says, “And what would you do if someone tried anything against you?”

“I would shoot them between the eyes.”

He cocks a brow when he looks at you, and the perplexity you find in his features brings an amused smile to your lips. You take the last drag of the cigarette, then toss it out on the ground, moving away from the cold wall to stand in front of him. Tommy lets you take his hand, such as a father indulging his child, and lets you press it to the side of your thigh. You want him to know you’re not defenceless. That, just as he, you can kill someone in cold blood if you have to.

The soft bump could be mistaken for anything had he not known what a grip felt like. His fingers linger a little too long on your thigh, icy blue staring down at you, a smidge of interest splashed on them.

“Have you used it before?” Tommy asks, his hand moving an inch up, towards the soft lace that belted around your waistline.

“I think this is the first time today you’ve looked my way,” You say while you push him away. “And you fancy yourself worthy to know anything about me?”

“I’m your husband.”

“And?” Tommy looks stumped, lips pressed together like he’s wondering just who gave you the right to speak in a manner such as this. “I want to go home. Fucking tired of this place.”

The goodbyes are an even quicker affair. You hug your mother and kiss your father on the cheek. Your brothers get walking away waves. Tommy's aunt and sister wrap their arms around you, while his brothers cheer him on. You have only a picture of what comes next. What he’ll expect you to do. It’s unclear if you’ve made the right choice of wanting to go home, to sour his mood with your bitterness.

It’s a silent trip. Tommy doesn’t say a word, even the wind refuses to whistle. All the noises come from the pebbles under the tyres as he speeds up down a narrow road that leads to a secluded place nestled at the centre of a clearing. It’s beautiful, you think, as he circles around the two-story house, to park the car behind it. When the engine stops running, neither of you moves. Neither seems in any particular hurry to leave the comfort of the car seats.

Your mother taught you things. She spoke of pleasure, she spoke of pain. She, however, did not speak of the erratic pace your heart would take. You weren’t afraid of him, you wouldn’t let him do anything you didn’t want to do, but you were nervous because you wanted him to do all these things to you. Because you didn’t know if he wanted it as well. Especially after how rude you’d been to him. Part of you wanted to apologise, swallow up the words you said, but you knew it was of no use. Perhaps he respected you because of it, and if you did apologise, you’d lose it.

You take out a cigarette.

“Well, we’re home,” He whispers, back flush with his seat, eyes trained forward. “Do you want to go inside?”

“I have.” A thin blow of smoke fills the air around you. “Used my gun. I’ve killed people. Does that change what you think of me?”

“No.” His hand sits just above your knee, his earnest gaze focused on you. “What did you kill for?”

“Dirty fuckers who felt entitled to my attention.” Your reply sets a solemn air to the conversation. “Wish I could shoot my brother.”

“Is that so, hm?” Tommy’s laugh is a noise you don’t think you could get enough of. A sound you had half a mind to know was like him sharing a secret with you. “I should get you inside, wife.”

“You make it sound so demeaning,” You complain just before he leaves to circle the car and open the door for you. He smells of alcohol and tobacco. “Being someone’s wife.”

“‘S not.” He steadies your stance, the warm palm of his left hand on the small of your back. “What’s demeaning about letting the world know you own a pretty diamond?”

You smile at that. The little compliment. Though you don’t know why you find it appealing, the thought of being regarded as something that could be owned by Tommy Shelby sends a thrilling rush of blood to the back of your neck. You should be appalled that your body betrayed your principles. That something between your legs drummed with the littlest of his touches.

His home is quiet and dark. Quite like himself, you think, as he guides you inside. In the wavering lights, the furniture appears in lush flashes. It’s a posh home, far too big for just one person and a small child. You knew he had lost a wife not so long ago. You knew more about his life than you would care to. If only you had known this was whom your father wanted to marry you off to, maybe you could have convinced him your little sister Rose was a better fit. How were you supposed to care for someone so broken when your shattered pieces were still scattered on the floor?

Tommy disappears. You sigh, a little, whiny noise, then find solace in the comfortable couch. You’re not sure where you can go, if you should wander until you find a room, how would your things be put, if they had arrived yet. Would you sleep in his room? Would he not have a stranger invade his privacy? You didn’t think marriage should be so confusing.

Your mind spins, and you want to have a drink. Something to wash the concern away.

When he comes back, a cigarette hangs from his lips, both of his hands occupied with glasses. Liquid amber courage. You thank him as you reach for one, the taste of a single sip enough to make you frown with how strong it was. Tommy watches you, legs spread apart, head tilted to the side. His posture is inquisitive. It almost feels like he’s trying to find out if you’re here to kill him.

“Where’s your son?” Your voice is a thin, low sound. You’re tiptoeing now.

“Pol took him to give us privacy,” Tommy says, faint delight in his tone.

“Oh.”

“I suppose it’s of no need, eh?” You hide behind your glass, averting his gaze like the plague. “D’yer like kids, hm? They can be such a bore sometimes."

You nod in agreement, but you don’t know how to conduct the conversation anymore. It’s fallen to a treacherous, sloped path. He sits upright, then slides closer to you, to the point his shoulder bumps into yours, and he offers you his smoke. This subtle peace treaty is foreign. You’re not sure if you should take it, but you do.

His hand trails up your arm in what you’re sure he means to be soothing. You realise this must be because you look too tight. Too panicked, maybe.

“You think I’m a monster, don’t you?” Tommy whispers while he leans towards you, his lips a danger as they near your ear. “Think anytime now I’m going to hurt you.”

“Not really,” You hear yourself mumbling, in a quipping, prideful tone. “I just… Well, I don’t know. I don’t know how to act around someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” His breath fans over your face. You can nearly taste his smell.

“I mean, what are you expecting out of this? For me to sit around, drink tea, and spread my legs for you whenever you want like a doll, like a perfect wife? Because I can’t be that for you.”

His lips press the swell of your cheek before he moves away, rising to a stand. Like this, you feel trapped. Almost threatened. Then he offers his hand, his eyes so focused on you, you find them capable of burning flesh, and bone, and soul.

Tommy guides you through the halls. The walls are cold and grey, void of any embellishment other than the portraits of his late wife. You wonder what it must feel like to lose someone you swore to love until the end of your days. To feel as if it’s an unfulfilled promise of a happy life. At this particular thought, you squeeze his hand, which is still locked with yours, and he looks back at you. A cypher that you wouldn’t bother spending the rest of your days trying to break.

The first gush of air when he opens the door to the room is cold. You feel it pick at your skin, the goosebumps an uncomfortable consequence. It’s not a pretty, happy room. Much like the rest of this place, it’s decorated in austere, serious colours. Dark, almost lifeless. A blue cushioned couch makes up for most of the furniture, a mahogany coffee table set in front of it. If you had to guess, this was likely a room meant for small gatherings. A sip of port wine after a long night. Or, perhaps, a place he came to grieve.

You don’t realise until a soft, slow ballad begins to play that there’s a gramophone sat in a tall marble pillar that decorates one corner. Tommy walks back to you, his hand outstretched in a silent invitation to join him for a dance. You take it.

“I owed you a dance,” He murmurs while his arm draws you. “This isn’t what you wanted, and it’s not fair, I can understand that.”

“It isn’t what you wanted either.”

“I’ve drunk, I’ve smoked, I’ve partied, I’ve fucked, I’ve loved. I’ve lived, princess, you haven’t. I can settle having a pretty wife whose life I know nothing about, you shouldn’t have to.”

“Then what do you want me to do?”

Tommy’s eyes pull you. Their shape, their shade. He inspects you, and for the first time, you feel seen. Cold pale blue eats you up and soaks. It's water in soft cotton.

The moment lasts for a beat, two. Then it’s over. He drops your hand to walk towards the bottle of whisky kept on the highest shelf. You take your time to absorb the tingles his touch left in their wake, unsure what to do with your fingers. Unsure if you should disappear before he turns back to you.

“I want you to drink,” Tommy answers at last. His back still faces you. Your breath hitches. “I want you to feel good, even if it’s just tonight.”

“Will you make me miserable?”

He snorts, “I might. I’m no good, princess.”

“Bullshit,” You call, half-entertained by your boldness.

He laughs, finally turning back to look at you. The whisky swirls when you take the glass from his hand to take a sip, then another. Bitter and heavy as it goes down your throat.

In your whole life, you’ve never felt like this. Like you’re at the edge of the unknown. Unable to tell if your next step would make you sink deeper or soar higher. Unable to shake away the butterflies that insist on rioting.

You finish off the drink.

His eyes never leave you. Tommy looks at you as one does to an exotic animal, curious if it bites. If it can morph into some wild, folkloric thing that’s terrifying. You enjoy being the subject of his attention. Enjoy knowing that, at that moment, you’re the thing swimming inside his thoughts.

“Thomas?”

“Hmm?”

“Would you fuck me if I asked you to?” The question is so straightforward he sways on his step to sit back down next to you.

“Do yer wan’ me to?”

You nod, an untamed beast gnawing at the bottom of your belly, “Have you ever been with a man?”

“Does it matter?”

Thomas Shelby smiles, you contemplate as he gives you the first smile you’ve seen on his face. Laughter is a bad, ugly cousin compared to the glimmer of his smile. You can’t help but sigh, pulled to him, compelled to never avoid those damned eyes. A blue so bright it’s the crystalline water of a still lake.

“Yes, it matters.” He strokes your cheek, sliding his knuckles up the cheekbone. “Have you?”

“No.” Your voice crackles. Imperceptible almost. “Is it bad that I had no others?”

Tommy huffs, then kiss the tip of your nose. Then each of your cheeks. Then your lips. When his mouth finds yours, you swear you’ve started to tingle all over. You’ve walked straight into an anthill. He doesn’t linger, though, his kisses finding a poisonous path that turns your thoughts into an incoherent mess.

You’re aware he’s handling you like one would handle a doll. He turns you around to undo each button that keep your white wedding gown in place. When the tips of his cold fingers touch your bare back, you’re inflamed. Consumed by bright, orange flames.

The silk fabric slips out of your arms, bunching around your waistline. Beneath, the chemise you’re wearing feels plain and not at all attractive. Your nipples poke at the fabric when he presses his lips to your neck, and you make a strange sound after his teeth close around the delicate flesh. You can feel the smirk he’s wearing, he’s proud to have you like that. Whining, borderline begging.

“Stand up,” Tommy whispers, both hands on your waist. “I want you to take this off.”

You do, even if you’re not sure your legs can hold your weight. When he’s sure you’re not going to fall, he kneels before you. It’s a sight. To have this man, a wild, dangerous man, on his knees for you. To have him worshipping your waist, your hips, your body. Tommy pulls down your dress as if it’s made of glass, as if he pushes it too hard, it’ll rip. Then you’re out of it. Standing in only chemise, stockings and high heels.

A wave of sudden embarrassment washes over you. You’ve never been this exposed before. Not to a man at least. His eyes never leave yours, not when he undoes the buckle of your right shoe, then the left. Not even when his hands snake up your thighs, unclipping the suspenders to take off your socks. It’s only when he’s about to take off the last piece of clothing that he breaks eye contact and stands up, with a silent plea for you to raise your arms.

At this point, the beast sits heavy in your lower tummy. Your breathing has turned into this unsteady, shallow panting.

“You’re so gorgeous, princess,” Tommy’s voice breaks the daze you’ve been in. “So fucking gorgeous.”

“Thomas…”

“Hm?” His thumbs dig into the flesh of your waist. “What d'yer want?”

“You.”

He smiles before he kisses you again. This time it’s less chaste. His lips salvage yours. They bite, suck. It’s a winless fight, so you just give in, you let him take what he wants to take. Because it’s his already. You knew that you’d be here. You knew that, regardless of being insane, you'd always cave in for him.

Tommy helps you down back on the couch and your legs fall open in instinct. Back on his knees, his eyes are now zeroed on your dripping pussy, and you can’t bite back the moan that bubbled when his index finger teased you. He does it again. Then again. Its tip just circled, never sinking in. It builds something up that gets tears in your eyes.

“It’s too much, please…” You whimper.

A long whine fills the room, his middle finger lodged deep in you. Your husband wastes no time feasting, a mess of saliva, and tongue, and grunts. He’s so handsome, you could stare at him forever. Sweat-slicked, ruddy-cheeked. You can’t even find it in you to bother that the friction burns, just with a single finger.

“Fuck, princess, you’re so tight,” Tommy says in an ethereal voice, too distracted to keep his thoughts in check. Even his accent grows thicker. You fist the cushions. “How d'yer think yeh can take me cock?”

“I want you, please, husband.”

“No, not tonight.”

The moan that follows is loud. Too loud. He sucks the throbbing clit, his tongue flickering around it, “‘M so close.”

It’s pathetic that he had to do so little to make you lose your mind. His finger slips out, but his hands force your hips further to his face, rooted to the base of your thighs. He eats like he’s starved. Like he needs the dripping slick to survive. You scream, your body falling back on the soft couch, your heels digging into his back as if this will make him even closer to you.

It grows and grows and grows until it breaks. Molten, animalistic pleasure. Your eyes roll as you realise you’re shaking. It doesn’t stop Tommy, he still works on you as a madman would. Crazed. Keen on getting you through this new set of feels. You’ve felt pleasure before, but never this strong. Never quite rattling. Never so devastating that all you could manage to do was lie there, limp. Each of your limbs weighing about a ton.

Silence shrouds you. You want to ask him to take you to bed. That you wish to sleep for the whole weekend. No words leave your lips. You just watch him, how his mouth glistens, how his eyes gleam in the dim light.

“Did I break you?” He asks, his cheek resting on the inside of your thigh. “You haven’t said anything.”

“Oh.”

“I should take you to bed,” His lips find the supple flesh in a quick peck. So intimate it’s as if he’s done it loads of times before.

“Please.”

Tommy doesn’t seem to care that he’s leaving a mess of clothes behind. You watch them from his back, scooped up in his arms, and it makes your chest swell. It’s such a foreign emotion, this vulnerability you’ve allowed yourself to feel. Never in a thousand years, you’d admit this out loud, but this man has just stolen your heart.

“Where’s my bedroom?” Your voice is low and slurred.

“Do you want one for yourself?”

“Thought it was part of the deal.”��

You hear him kick open a door, and then you’re set on a comfortable mattress. The thought of complaining the second he’s not on reach crosses your mind, though you remain silent.

“The deal is… You’re my wife.” Tommy starts undoing the buttons of his jumper. “And wives are supposed to sleep next to their husbands.”

“Thomas…”

“Princess, don’t think about this too much,” He’s free from all clothing except his white drawers. His body is warm and welcoming when he lies next to you. “You have to rest.”

“But…”

“Shhh, sleep.” Your husband, and God, how foreign it feels to even think of regarding him as such, kisses your shoulder, an arm wrapped around your waist. “We’ll talk about it in the morning, okay?”

“Yeah,” You finally agree, too tired to stretch the conversation any further. “Okay.”

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x you #tommy x you #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders

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teecupangel · 1 year

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Just a random idea that came from the AC Unity posts but what about Desmond as Marie Antoinette, France's most hated dauphin? Like Desmond in Cantarella, he is surrounded by Templars but this time it is in the middle of a court that seeks to remove him from the throne by any means, at any cost. And Desmond, as in Cantarella, can choose to run away from all this (toward Connor in the colonies) or play the game in which he is inside to avoid a massacre.

(Now, I don't remember much about AC Unity but I do know that Marie birth was in 1755 and came to court at eighteen, which would make her canonically four years older than Arno but only one year older than Connor, which is a long time, for whatever plan Desmond has after the shock of being born again.)

So the Templar and Assassin presence in Austria and the Holy Roman Empire are a bit vague, especially during Marie Antoinette's time growing up so we can play around with that aspect.

Although...

Desmond probably only heard of Marie Antoinette in passing. She mostly knows her as the ‘let them eat cake’ bitch and holy shit, there was no way she was going to be her, especially since she did watch Kirsten Dunst’s Marie Antoinette (he was bored, okay?) so yeah, definitely didn’t want to part of all of that.

Desmond tries to appear not that interesting, making people whisper that she’s lazy but brilliant as she knows Latin, Italian and French (thanks, Ezio).

Her beauty is also marred by the fact that she doesn’t like to wear those restrictive women's clothes. She’s fine wearing dresses, she’s not fine wearing stuff that impedes her movements.

This, unfortunately, meant that they’re forced to make clothes that would be beautiful but not restrictive just so Desmond would wear them to balls and important events that needed her presence.

She doesn’t even understand why they needed her to do any of these. She’s the youngest, shouldn’t she be more or less worthless in the eyes of the royal family?

What she doesn’t realize is that her beauty and brains made her interesting. And having the Bleeds of Haytham Kenway and Ezio Auditore meant she could be graceful if she wanted to, meaning that, if one was simply to turn a blind eye on her ‘laziness’ and her ‘strange musings’, she is certainly one of the most promising young noble ladies of her generation.

Because of this, she gets the attention of Louis XV who wants her to become the future wife of his grandson, Louis XVI.

History finally gets royally fucked up when the announcement of Desmond’s marriage to Louis XVI becomes public when she is just freaking 14.

So, out of desperation because there is no way in freaking hell she was going to marry some dude at 14...

Also… childbirth? Nopenopenopenope. She just got used to the whole monthly bleeding thing. The idea of giving birth frightens her more than burning from the inside again...

She runs away.

Now…

At this point, she didn’t have any allies nor any actual plan like Giovanni!Desmond did in Cantarella.

What she did have was the skills of three Master Assassins and one Grand Templar so Desmond ran away in the middle of the night, more reminiscent of his running away from the Farm to be completely honest.

She pretends to be a boy which wasn’t that hard at the moment because she was still growing and gets into a ship bound for the colonies where, she hopes, she’d be able to find Ratonhnhaké:ton.

… Not knowing the huge scandal she would be making by disappearing in the middle of the night.

And how this entire thing could spell a disaster in France and Austria’s future since her marriage had been one of the conditions for an alliance between the two.

Unorganized Ideas:

She pretends to be a dude but she’s really pretty. Becomes harder once her growth spurt truly starts

She meets up with Ratonhnhaké:ton in Davenport Homestead after Ratonhnhaké:ton’s whole ‘arrested because white people, man’ shit in Boston. They grow up to be more or less partners.

Achilles thinks she’s a runaway daughter of an Assassin (which is technically true) and a part of him wonders if she may not be related to John de la Tour (maybe even his granddaughter?) because she makes offhanded comments about France.

The missing Marie Antoinette becomes the French/British version of ‘Anatasia Romanov lives’ rumors. No one thinks it’s Desmond though.

Except for one person who had seen a portrait of the young Marie Antoinette once… Marquis de La Fayette.

Haytham believes Desmond is his son’s beau (and, later on, wife). He is not the first to believe that and Ratonhnhaké:ton and Desmond had stopped trying to correct people and just let them think whatever they want.

Desmond does milk it a bit, calling Ratonhnhaké:ton ‘my dearest’. Ratonhnhaké:ton simply goes along with it because Desmond had always been strange even by white men standards.

Ratonhnhaké:ton knew Desmond was a girl from the beginning, he just didn’t make a big deal about it. This made Desmond believe that Ratonhnhaké:ton never realized she was a girl until she started ‘filling out’.

#does this end with #condes #?#yeah most definitely #also maybe even spurned ex-fiance king louis xvi???#might even end with desmond and ratonhnhaké:ton going to france to kick king louis xvi’s ass #because the dude can’t. take. a. hint #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed

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goodqueenaly · 7 months

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If the last child of Hoster and Minisa had been born a girl instead of a boy and had survived (instead of dying), how could this have changed the course of the Rebellion? If the Southron Ambitions theory is true, do you think Jon might have married her instead of her “spoiled” sister Lysa (if she was old enough to marry then as Minisa’s exact year of death is unknown)? And if she was too young then, do you think she could have been used to forge an alliance (with House Tyrell) during TWotFK?

One tricky aspect of this alternate scenario is that we have really no idea when Minisa died. The considerable range of years in which Minisa might have died means that her daughter could have been anywhere in a wide set of ranges by the time of Robert’s Rebellion. Consequently, while on a basic (which is to say, gross and disturbing) level, a Westerosi lord like Jon Arryn would not look askance at marriage to a 14 or 15 year old aristocratic girl (looking at Jon Arryn’s indirect ancestor and mega creep Rodrik Arryn, for one), a marriage to a four or five year old aristocratic girl would be far more unusual, and far less tenable from the perspective of Westerosi law.

Related to that point, I can see why Jon Arryn may still have wanted to marry Lysa. Jon needed “the swords and spears of House Tully” for the sake of the rebellion, but he also personally wanted a new wife who could give him an heir, as his previous two designated heirs had been executed by Aerys II and then killed at Stoney Sept, respectively. Hoster accordingly sold Lysa to Jon Arryn not just as his daughter but as “a young wife known to be fertile”. By contrast, a younger Tully sister would presumably not have been in the same position (that is, having become pregnant but also forced to abort the child), and so less of a (presumed) known quantity, in a purely dynastic propagation sense. (That Hoster’s forced abortion may have permanently damaged Lysa’s ability to conceive and bear full term healthy children is a separate but important point of thematic irony.)

Whether or not Hoster would have sought a marriage with this girl otherwise … eh. Robert was certainly available at the end of the Rebellion, and it would have been quite the coup for Hoster to have wed his daughters to new king and his two foremost allies (though whether Jon Arryn, or Robert himself, would have agreed is another matter entirely). It is also worth keeping in mind, however, that, just as Hoster may have grown too sick with the cancer that would eventually kill him to focus on Edmure’s marriage, he may have been similarly unable to secure a high-ranking partner for his daughter (especially if she were quite a bit younger).

#asoiaf meta #alternate universe #house tully #hoster tully

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a-hopeless-romantic-fanatic-blog · 5 months

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One Piece - shipping drabble

Law x Nami

Just some silly, incorrect quotes about marriage and being in a relationship with pictures! That I personally think fit really well with the LawNa dynamic!

( I also think it is neat and fun to explore that possibility and idea between these two fictional characters)

Rating: SFW

Warnings: some minor bad language, but nothing too bad.

...

I am aware this isn't a popular ship, but any form of hateful or negative comments will not be tollerated. You can like what you like and that's fine~ Because we all want to have fun, and a good time here! A wise person once told me: "If you got nothing nice or actually constructive to say, then probably don't say anything at all."

Let's spread love and kindness. Not hate and war.

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･:❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🤍🩶🖤🤎

If you wanna see other stuff check out my

Main Shipping Harbor! Lots of verity there~

Heads up!

So marriage isn't just between a man and a woman. Marriage should be all about being with the one you love regardless of their gender or ethnicity. So long as it's not toxic or against the law (like actual cringe stuff)

Then go for it! Get out there and find love in whatever way makes you and your significant other happy~

Okay now that's outta the way...

To this self-indulgent drabble~

...

Sleeping together:

"Some mornings, I wake up grouchy. Other mornings, I just let him sleep." -Nami

(Quote from:Unknown - Marriage humor of great men and women.)

"Marriage is an alliance entered into by a man who can’t sleep with the window shut, and a woman who can’t sleep with the window open." -Law

(Quote from: George Bernard Shaw)

...

The benifits of being married:

"Why do married people live longer than single people? I think it’s because married people make a special effort to live longer than their partner—just so they can have the last word." -Nami

(Quote from: Janet Periat)

"Look, you want to know what marriage is really like? Fine. You wake up, she's there. You come back from work, she's there. You fall asleep, she's there. You eat dinner, she's there. You know? I mean, I know that sounds like a bad thing, but it's not." -Law

(Quote from: Robert Barbone - Everybody Loves Raymond)

...

Tolerance and Compromise:

"I love you no matter what you do...

...

... but do you have to do so much of it?"

-Law and Nami

(Quoted from: Jean Illsley Clarke)

...

A doctors' take on marriage:

"Marriage is like vitamins: we supplement each other’s minimum daily requirements."

-Law

(Quote from: Kathy Mohnke)

...

It's totally normal:

"My husband and I have never considered divorce… murder sometimes, but never divorce." - Nami

(Quote from: Dr. Joyce Brothers)

"And she might be a pain in the ass. But she's my pain in the ass." -Law

(Quote from: A Very Potter Musical)

...

Extra benefits:

"I married for love, but the obvious side benefit of having someone around to find my glasses can not be ignored."

-Law & Nami

(Quote from: Cameron Esposito)

...

Vows

"The first draft of my vows, which I wrote the day after we got engaged, clocked in at around 70 pages."

-Law

(Quote from: Leslie - Parks and Recreation)

...

This was meant to be.

"I never fell in love with you.

Falling is an accident.

No, I walked aggressively

towards love for you.

It was on purpose and

with purpose." -Law

(Quote from: f.k.q)

...

The greatest thing...

"My most brilliant achievement was my ability to persuade my wife to marry me."

-Law

(Quote from: Sir Winston Churchill)

The End~

...

Picture/Art work credits:

Law playing with Nami's hair by: Unkown

Law and Nami in a comfy place: saram_80

Nami putting her lip gloss on Law: @ZSxJvsKNpB7AVoE

Law fighting with Sanji and Nami trying to stop them: One Piece Episode - 913

LawNa week day 4: Height Differences - Unknown

Straw-Hat's and Nami laughing at a not so amused Law: shevoj

Nami beating everyone up. Including Law: Unknown

Nami helping Law with his Dressrosa disguise: Unknown

Law passed out at his desk, and his crew sneaking in with gifts for him: Unknown

Law and Nami meeting at Sasbody: xMinyuV

Nami whispering something into Law's ear: Unkown

...

I do not own any of the pictures above nor characters from the One Piece franchise, but go give those artists and Anime/ Manga some love if you can!

And if you know who any of the "Unknown" Artists are, please send me a link to their portfolio (if it also includes the picture that's excellent too!)

...

Want more? Check out this other LawNa Drabble I did (warning it is kinda sad).

Also, my main Shipping Harbor. For even more stuff to explore here on this blog!

...

Like what you see? Consider sharing and / or leaving me a tip! Thank you, and I hope you have a lovely day~

#one piece nami #trafalgar law #one piece #one piece shipping #incorrect quotes #funny quotes #lawna #lawnami #nami #cat burglar nami #surgeon of death #drabble #self indulgent #just for fun

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iobsessoverfictionalmen · 2 years

Text

Competition for a heart

Tagging: @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky, @jointhehunt67

If you want to be added to the tag list for this fic, send me an ask or leave a comment on the fic.

Chapter 1

Hades scowled at Aphrodite from where he was sitting, “I respect your thoughts and compassion, Goddess of Love but your idea is pure folly. The Avengers have been through enough and it is not our place to overcomplicate their lives.”

Aphrodite dismissed Hades’ words with an elegant wave of her hand, “Competitions have been used in the past to great effect. Some of the Avengers are our champions. Why then should our champions not compete and show their strength to win the hand of (Name)? After all, I am submitting the name of my champion to this contest, Sam Wilson.”

“Because they are people with their own lives,” Athena stressed, “I agree with Lord Hades.”

Ares snorted from his throne as he picked some dirt from underneath his nails with one of his knives, “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to submit any of your champions. A wise move, sister.”

Athena gripped the arm rests of her throne, “It would not be fair of me to subject Otto Octavius to this competition as he is still grieving the loss of his wife, Rosie. Peter Parker is too young to be considered as a romantic partner for (Name) and he has his eye on someone else. So you see, brother, I am being wise, thoughtful and considerate. Qualities which you lack.”

“Our sister’s reasons make sense,” Hephaestus rumbled, “I too will not be submitting the names of my champions. Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, and (Name) are close friends but that’s as far as their feelings for each other will ever go. Not to mention that Tony is married and I have no intention of disrupting a marriage.”

Apollo was lounging comfortably on his throne but at Hephaestus’ words, he threw his head back and groaned, “You two are such buzzkills. I for one would like to see where this competition of Aphrodite’s leads. I’m submitting my champion to this competition, John Walker.”

Hermes winced, “Brother, your champion will not stand a chance. You would have been better off submitting Clint Barton as your champion even though he too is married. I will submit my champion, Scott Lang to this competition.”

“You’re submitting the name of a joke of a hero who is only good as a thief to the competition as your champion,” Ares guffawed, “good luck with that.”

Hestia sent her nephew a warning glare which caused him to stop laughing immediately and curl into his throne, “Pay no mind to him Hermes.” She said kindly, “Ares is simply jealous as I chose Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes to be my champions and he was interested in them. It’s nice to see two Olympians submitting a champion with integrity and honour. Though I regret that it will truly be a challenge as I am submitting both of my champion's names to this contest.”

Dionysus examined the floor of the room with an air of boredom, “In this, I agree with the Lord of the Underworld. Our champions have endured a lot of the past few years and should we push our champions into this contest, we will lose their respect. In my case, I would also lose the tentative alliance that I have made with the Egyptian Gods since Bast and I chose the same champion. I will not be submitting the name of my champion, T’Challa to this contest and don’t think that I didn’t notice that you only brought this idea to our attention when Zeus and Hera were conspicuously absent, Aphrodite.”

There was a flash of heat and flame in the middle of the room and everyone present, except for Hades recoiled. Slowly, the flames and the heat died down to reveal Thanatos.

“Why have you come here?” Poseidon demanded, gripping his trident tightly.

“I apologise for the abrupt intrusion,” Thanatos replied, “it has simply been so long since my sisters and I have submitted the name of one of our champions for a contest.”

“You can’t!” Apollo gasped, “It’s not fair! How did you find out about the contest anyway?”

Thanatos raised an eyebrow, “Oh? Can’t we? It was my understanding that an immortal could submit the name or names as the case may be of their champion. Last I checked, I am an immortal. My sisters are immortals and we share the same champion.” Nobody commented on the fact that Thanatos had not answered Apollo’s question.

Hades sat up straighter as the silence in the room became deafening. He couldn’t have planned this better himself. He caught Artemis’ eye and knew that she was interested in the name of Thanatos and the Keres’ champion as well. It was rare for the Lord of the Dead and his sisters to agree on a worthy champion, let alone choose the same champion.

Hades wondered if Artemis would warn her champion, Natasha Romanoff about what was happening so that she could keep an eye out especially seeing as from what he knew, you and Natasha were good friends. Hades also made a mental note to speak to Hecate about the competition as she didn’t come up to Olympus if she could avoid it and this competition would definitely affect her champion, Wanda Maximoff, as well.

Thanatos laced his fingers together in front of himself as he waited. The atmosphere in the room showed no signs of changing and Thanatos let out an impatient huff, “Seeing as there are no more objections regarding my eligibility nor that of my sisters when it comes to submitting the name of our champion to this contest, I therefore submit the name of our champion, John Wick.”

Hades looked around the throne room. He took in the furious looks on Apollo and Ares’ faces, the contemplative ones on Hestia, Athena, and Hephaestus’ faces and the gleeful one on Aphrodite’s face. Hades would deny it later but in that moment, he was worried for your safety especially since you weren’t the champion of a Greek God. Although he didn’t agree with Aphrodite’s competition, Hades knew he needed to act now.

“I too will back John Wick as a champion in this contest,” Hades declared.

#avengers au #avengers fanfiction #female reader #spoilers for marvel movies #john wick au #john walker is divorced #mywriting #my fics #john wick x avengers crossover #hades is one of my favourite gods #I don't like it when he's portrayed as the bad guy #I wanted to do something different #helen doesn't exist in this fic #greek gods champion au #avengers x reader #john wick x reader #avengers x you #john wick x you #john wick spoilers

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galaxyregent · 7 days

Text

Here we have Dagur's Family, his mother Iona and his sister Brenna as a child. As you can see Brenna and Dagur favor their mother. I imagine Oswald had red hair too, though faded from the years. All three of Oswald's children got his eyes. Heather got dark hair from her mother.

Iona was a fierce and well respected warrior of the tribe, coming for a prominent family. She came from a family where she had one brother (Harold/Herald) and two sisters.

When I picture Iona and Oswald's relationship, I dont picture one of deep love but practicality. Iona was a good match for the chief and she found fulfillment in bettering her tribe and assisting him in war. She was never the type to stand still. Even though they weren't in love, they respected each other deeply. There was never a whisper of infidelity on either party while Iona lived.

Iona loved her children fiercely, wanting only the best for them in the future. It was actually more from Iona than Oswald the children get their mental instability from. Iona was great at managing it, on the battlefield she always let loose. For those who don't know, Berserkers were a supposedly real type of warrior among vikings. They would drink some kind of medicine, likely a serious stimulant, and charge into the battle fields, destroying all in their wake. It was said in battle they couldn't even differentiate between friends and foes so even allies had to give them a wide berth.

Brenna and Dagur loved their mother in turn, but only Brenna remembers her with any clarity. Still, Dagur remembers the fierce-some warrior his mother was from stories and faint memories. In BB I always right Dagur having deep respect for women, which seems to be canon too. That was partly due to Brenna being a domineering presence when they were children. She forced him to do her chores a lot.

It's never been clear why Oswald became agreeable, but I have a theory in the BB universe. Brenna is older than Dagur, and when she was born, there were many talks about a potential spouse. Wars between the tribes make intermarriage difficult, so they were trying to think of a spouse on island. However it was difficult, the population of the Berserker tribe is pretty much all related, more or less, especially the more influential clans. Now, inbreeding was nowhere near as understood as it now, but people understand cause and effect. Blood being too close has long since a valid reason to dissolving marriages of aristocracy.

When tribes are at war, blood becomes concentrated leading to sickly babes and deformities. Oswald found that every potential, suitable partner for Brenna was too close in blood. Then he had an idea. Even though he was at war with other tribes, he respected their leaders as warriors and men. What if there was a way to conquer tribes without bloodshed? What about marriage?

Slowly he begins his journey and establishing peace with other tribes. Brenna is promised to young heir of Hysteria tribes, one of his chief rivals. This bring peace and boost of commerce and fresh blood into both tribes, alliance also helps with dragon problem.

Peace with the Hooligan tribe is equally important, so he's thrilled when Stoick has a daughter while he has a son. Considering the difficulties with Hiccup's birth and the slew of failed pregnancies prior to her it's unlikely Stoick would have another child. This is confirmed when Valka is taken and Stoick refuses to take another wife.

It's an added bonus because law would support Hiccup's right to inherit the chief mantle. In the beginning it looked difficult because Stoick wanted his girl to stay close and resolve the succession crisis by marrying her to his nephew, his next closest relation. Eventually, Oswald convinces him to marry Hiccup to Dagur.

This plan actually kind of works because four of his six grandchildren are chiefs in their own right; his three grandsons through Dagur and his granddaughter Silvi through Brenna. Each chief ruling over a powerful tribe.

Iona means both Dove and Island

Brenna means burning or torch, again referencing her hair

#berserker's bride #iona #Brenna #my art #my artwork #fan art #httyd #dagur the deranged #oswald the agreeable

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celestialula · 2 years

Note

Omg I love your blog so much!❤️

I've been dealing with Eddie Munson brainrot like most of the world rn and I have an idea for a request that has been giving me butterflies for the last few days:

Reader is from a high class family and is stuck in an arranged marriage type thing but her and Eddie have been secretly seeing each other. Eddie knows how much she hates the guy she's supposed to be marrying and on the day of the wedding, he busts in all hot and badass to rescue her and sweep her away from the life she so vehemently hates.

Other details/plot points can be up to you❤️

old money | eddie munson x fem!reader

pairing | eddie munson x fem! reader

summary | see request.

wordcount | 7.446 words

warnings | arranged marriage. shitty parents. rich!reader. cussing. mention of buying drugs. a bit of angst. lots of fluff. some hotness here and there (but is that really a warning?) eddie is in this last high school year, reader has already graduated.

a/n | thank you, dear anon, for your compliment and for requesting this lovely idea. I had lots of fun writing it and I really hope that you don’t mind the length, please let me know if it lives up to your expectation <3

In this cruel world of economic instability, tax fraud, inflation, and corruption some families coming from generational wealth had found it fit to make alliances through insider businesses and arranged marriages, and oftentimes, both at the same time, to keep and increase their power. Your family happened to be one of those families, making you not an individual, but just a number with a certain value.

Securing the family business and its wealth meant that every family member had to make sacrifices. If something happened to one person it affected the entire family. Thus, you weren’t allowed to make decisions for yourself, but rather in the name of your whole family, meaning there was more than one person who had a say in the matter. One such decision lay in the choice of your spouse. You were not allowed to date just anyone, let alone marry them. Your future spouse was assigned to you when you were two and he was six, and both your fathers’ were the best of business partners there had been. When you were sixteen, you got an engagement ring via letter, a heavy chunk, but nothing personal, just a sign that you were officially off the market.

Your preordained destiny made you infinitely bored with your life, until one day, you met him.

Growing up in those societies you never had to worry about meeting new people for your friendships throughout your life had been established from the beginning, always in the same circles. Same faces with different names. One of the people who belonged to your circle – you called them friends – had asked you on a random day after school, to buy drugs from his dealer on his behalf. You had agreed. Not because you’d been interested in attending their party afterward, much less to use those drugs for yourself, but if it meant that it lengthened your walk home, cutting through the routine, and gave you a break from your boredom, you were more than happy to do it.

That’s when you first met Eddie Munson in the woods, he seemed odd to you, you could tell at first glance because he was very different from the rest of your friends. His whole appearance was more forbidding than inviting, but you didn't let his appearance and his strange reputation irritate you. The Freak. That's what they had called him. You realized quickly that he labeled you as well because of your association with Jason Carver and the other privileged kids you hung out with.

You hadn’t trusted him, he hadn’t trusted you, and yet both of you had always remained friendly with each other. The conversations turned out to be incredibly interesting, which immediately captivated you. You got curious. The need to try to convince him that you weren't like the rest of your snob friends had awakened in you, and back then you hadn’t known why it had mattered so much for you, but later, you knew.

It all had started that day, and more was to grow from it.

You’d often met him on the school grounds and at some point, you’d even arranged to meet outside, but in all your time together, he never wanted you to pay for him, never accepted gifts from you, it had been just you and him, nothing else. Your laughter had never stopped then. You’d had fun, you’d felt alive, he’d brought out sides of you that you’d thought not to exist anymore.

You had fallen in love with this lively young man.

So intense that every time you saw him, your heart started beating wildly. Whenever he gave you a fleeting smile, it took your breath away and you thought you were going to suffocate. Your thoughts were full of him, all day and all night. You’ve never had such a strong need to be with someone.

You didn't care what all the others thought about him. You didn't care how different he was, yes that's what you started to love about him, his whole unique way. A smile had always crossed your lips when you’d coincidentally met his gaze across the cafeteria, when he’d enthusiastically told you about his upcoming D&D campaign, whenever he played you his newly composed song first, when he aimlessly drove around with you in his car at night, or when he just relaxed on your lap after a long day while listening to his favorite band's new album. He was completely different in a way that couldn't have been prettier because with all the quirks he showed over time he'd only gotten more interesting. He was complete in his uniqueness.

And yet no one officially knew about you, he was your secret, and you were his.

"The whole time, he was only talking about buying this and buying that!" you complained one day in Eddie’s trailer, opening a drawer and putting your jade bracelet inside a pair of socks before you closed the drawer again. You’d seen your fiancé only a couple of times, on social events or charity galas, and never did you exchange more than a few sentences with him, and when you did, he bored you to death, and you almost always were in a bad mood afterward.

"What did he want to buy so badly?" Eddie shouted back over the running water in the shower.

"I didn’t care to listen for the details but he said something about red racing cars." You shrugged your shoulders, knowing he couldn’t see you from the bathroom. "Oh, and of course, more stocks and some shares from a new company. God, I hate it!"

"Which company?" Eddie asked and he sounded interested, what angered you a bit.

"How would I know?!" Exasperated, you opened Eddie's closet and grabbed the farthest shirt you could find. Inside you packed three gold bracelets and put the top back in its original place.

"He’s your fiancé, after all, give that poor guy at least the bare minimum of your attention."

"Eddie, I swear, stop making fun of me, or else I’m gonna drown you in your own fucking shower!" you threatened when you stuffed some rings into his unworn shoes and hid them in his closet. Only hearty laughter was heard from the bathroom. At least one of you was amused by this situation. It had almost become a tradition that after every dinner with your fiancé's family the next morning, you'd go to Eddie's trailer to share your frustrations with him. He was all in for the gossip.

"Aw, angel face, devil thoughts. Noted," he commented in a provoking cute voice as you opened the drawer to his underwear.

"No, I mean it, after an excessive thirty-minute talk about polo, he had the audacity to come back to the first topic… the ups and downs of being a shareholder!" Thinking about it, made you feel uncomfortable again. "Right then, I wanted to…" you paused, thinking of an appropriate word, "I wanted to murder him."

You heard how the shower head turned off and an even louder laugh was heard.

"They say there’s nothing better than your girl rambling about the things she adores but they’re wrong," he said as he walked the short way from the bathroom back to his own room. "Her rambling about the things she hates cannot be topped- What are you doing with my underwear?" He raised an eyebrow and now inspected you suspiciously.

"Nothing much." You shrugged nonchalantly and closed the drawer again, knowing your sapphire necklace would be safe with his neon-colored boxers he never wore.

Eddie met your gaze in the same nonchalant way for a few seconds, the both of you not saying a word. And you'd be lying if you said you didn't have to swallow at the sight of his naked upper body, on which individual drops of water were placed like tiny pearls. Although he had brought a towel with him to dry his dripping hair, he hadn’t paid much attention to it for he had thrown it lazily on his shoulder. Only a white towel was wrapped loosely around his waist and it didn't look quite secure either. You didn't know if he noticed your ravenous stare, if he did he didn't respond until suddenly his eyes widened.

Theatrically, he grabbed his heart all of a sudden and flopped backward on his bed as if he had been stabbed. Lying on his back, he brought both his hands to his mouth as if holding a megaphone, and yelled, "Neighbors, to the rescue! I have a pervert as a girlfriend!"

"Shhh!" Panicking you waved your arms around, signaling him to be quiet.

"Hurry! Oh, neighbors! O wretched state! Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death."

"Eddie!"

With a smug smile, he rolled sideways on the bed and rested his head on one arm as he gave you an all-too-knowing look to which you responded with an eye roll.

"See?" With his other hand, he made a half motion as if about to bow to an imaginary audience. "This is why you love me. Otherwise, I’d be as boring as stock-market-guy and you’d be long gone."

Being reminded of that guy, made you groan in annoyance.

"Oof, he just wouldn’t stop talking about stocks," you winced at the thought of the horrific hours at dinner you had to endure with your parents and your official future-in-laws back in your house.

"That’s what I’m saying. You need to start appreciating the work I put in to keep you around, babe."

"Are you even listening to me?" you wanted to know honestly, making your way from standing in his room to where he was lying.

"Of course I do. Are you listening? I am here all hot and bothered, baby."

"It’s not funny, Eddie," you whined, flopping down face-first on his bed right next to him. "They say the wedding’s gonna be moved forward by a month." The thought of it made you groan into the bedsheets.

"Nah, they just say it like that, I wouldn’t interpret much into it." You threw him a look that would kill if it could.

"They want it to be done as soon as possible!" you argued.

"We all want things in life we cannot have."

You huffed, "Okay, so you’re either really not listening to me or you're just being sarcastic with me, and I hope neither’s the case because I don’t have the nerves for this right now."

"Babe," he sighed giving in, "seriously, you worry too much."

"And you worry too little!"

"It’s a coping mechanism." Smiling, he traced the rim of your lips with his index finger, "What’s your excuse?"

Sighing, you replied, "I worry for the both of us."

"Look," he looked all serious now, "your father is – what was that rich man’s name from that soap opera all housewife’s watch?"

"Huh?" You make a puzzled look at that.

"You know, the one we watched together a few times and I said that I imagine Harrington’s father to be exactly like him because they share the same surname. I forgot the name. Was it Blaine Harrington?"

"Ah," now you knew which tv character he was talking about, "you mean Blake Carrington."

"Yes!" He snapped his fingers excitedly at your right guess. "Your father is a Blake Harrington!" He announced proudly, somehow managing to still use the wrong surname but you couldn’t care less. "He somewhat is the head of a dynasty and he always gets what he wants. He wants a wedding between his daughter and a guy from Wall Street?" Eddie’s serious gaze met yours. "He will get it no matter what. That’s why we will have no chance with whatever plan we come up with right now."

"Don’t say that." With this statement, he had taken all your hope.

"I'm not saying our hands are tied forever, I'm just saying there's no point in creating a master plan at this point of time that's sure to fail either way."

"Don’t say that," you repeated, now pouting. Looking sad and frowning, you lowered your head and traced the pattern on Eddie's bedsheets.

"What do you want me to say, sad girl?" He lifted your chin with one finger and forced you to look at him again, the cute pout still on your lips.

"Say all is going to be good."

"All is going to be good." His lovely way made it difficult for you to continue pouting, you'd much rather wrap your arms around his neck and remain like that for hundreds of years.

"And that I don’t need to worry about anything at all," you added, still not finished pouting.

"You don’t need to worry about anything at all." You suppressed a smile that made its way to your lips. You looked longingly into his beautiful doe eyes.

"Cuddle me," you finally said which made him smirk but he did as he was told.

"C’mere." With his strong arms, he pulled you closer so you could rest your head comfortably on his bare chest and he wrapped a protective arm around you.

"Kiss me," you whispered dreamily on his skin.

"Where do you want to be kissed?" he asked back softly.

"Everywhere."

He leaned all the way into your ear and purred, "My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."

You looked up at him with a frown and cocked your head.

"Are you perhaps reading Shakespeare in your Englisch class?" This was the second time in a matter of minutes that he had quoted both Hamlet and Romeo and Juliet, it couldn't have been more blatant.

"Aye, M’lady."

You slapped him gently on his bare chest and rested your hand there to which he laughed heartily. That was your way of showing affection when you found him amusing.

"What?" he asked you, "Can a gentleman not express his eagerness to kiss his holy object of worship?"

Again you rolled your eyes at that statement and were about to say something when he leaned forward and kissed you on your open mouth, making you sigh pleasurably into the kiss.

"My angel," he whispered against your lips.

"My sweet heaven," you whispered back the same way, teasing him and kissing the corner of his mouth.

"My angel," he repeated and licked over your lower lip, "Never worry when I’m by your side." Then he took your lips back in his and you felt his warmth spread through your whole body.

Maybe he was right, maybe everything would turn out well on its own, maybe there was nothing to worry, unless–

everything turned out differently than expected.

Several weeks later, you'd invited Eddie to a picnic date in the park. Part of you wanted to spend quality time with your boyfriend, but another part wanted to talk about your upcoming wedding. It was only a few weeks until then and you still hadn't made a plan to cancel that day. Every time you brought up the subject, Eddie found ways to sidestep it and take your mind off things. While it was cute how he didn't want you to worry, with the time pressure, it was only too appropriate to start thinking seriously. Today you would confront him again and not let go until you had a reasonable idea of how to escape from the madness, you were sure of it.

You were sitting in a floral summer dress on a light blue picnic blanket in a secluded part of a small park. Nobody came here, you and Eddie had been testing that on many occasions, be it day or night so that you could meet here undisturbed on the beautiful summer day and let the day fade away.

"Hey, babe, doesn’t it look beautiful?" you greeted when you saw him approaching.

With expectant eyes, you gestured to the picnic basket and the goodies you had already spread on the blanket while waiting for him.

"I even made the sandwiches by myself," you announced proudly, remembering how Eddie told you about his favorite sandwich combination.

"Oh and I also cut the fruits," you added, "But the rest is made by our maid, I hope you don’t mind, there was way too much food in the fridge and nobody will notice that I took some snacks for us," you smiled sweetly, "You definitely need to try this dip, it’s so good, trust me." You pointed at the food one after the other on different plates. You just started talking, while you had your eyes on the serving plates and pointed to each one with your hands while you wanted to euphorically explain to him what you had packed for your lunch together. But when you noticed that he still hadn't sat down next to you, but was standing next to you without a word, you looked up and stopped suddenly when you saw his facial expression.

His expression was unreadable. He seemed lost in thought and... pissed off?

"Don’t you want to sit down?" You asked him softly, patting the blanket next to you.

"I’m good." You weren't used to the coldness in his voice. Besides, he hadn’t even looked at you when he’d spoken, his gaze seemed fixed on the picnic blanket.

Frowning, you rose to your feet and smoothed your dress, which had slipped slightly up.

"Is everything okay?" you asked quietly and wanted to put your hand on his upper arm, but he brushed it off. Something was definitely not okay.

"You tell me," he answered, jaw clenched.

"I don’t understand, Eddie," you shook your head confusedly, "what’s wrong?"

He took a deep breath and then looked into your eyes. As with his voice, there was something icy in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine.

"I asked you only for one thing in our relationship: Don’t bring your family’s wealth between us."

"Yes, and I never did." His statement confused you more than it should.

"No presents. No money," he continued listing and you nodded.

"Yes, but why are you upset all of a sudden?"

"Y/n" The seriousness in his voice made you look up. "I made it very clear that I don’t want your money, and I especially don’t want your parent’s money."

"It’s my father's money actually," you corrected humorously, in the hopes of loosening up the tension, "saying 'parents' wouldn’t be right since my mother never worked a day in her life." And neither did you.

He clenched his jaw again, obviously not in the mood to laugh.

"But that’s not the point, I assume," you added after noticing that his face hadn’t softened one bit. "We don’t talk about money here. It's that I hid my jewelry, so what?"

"So what?" he repeated after you disbelievingly, "One piece of that golden bracelet is probably worth more than my entire home," he seriously drew your attention to the matter, "You should’ve asked, y/n."

"You would've said no."

"You knew this and still did it?" His nostrils flared up. You realized he was slowly getting really mad at you.

"I did it for us," you justified.

"For us? My uncle found your emerald earrings hidden precisely in the back of the spice cabinet."

You didn't say anything to that. You had hoped that this hiding place would remain untouched since no one at Eddie’s had ever used the spiced cabinet.

"He asked me whether I started stealing or pimping now."

"What did you say?" you wanted to know.

"I lied, what else? And I know he knows. He probably thinks I’m part of a robbery."

"I’m sorry," you said sincerely, "I didn’t mean to cause any trouble between you and your uncle. It’s just-"

"It’s just what, y/n?"

"I-" You were lost for words.

"I did it for us," you claimed confidently, emphasizing every single word, even if he didn't want to hear that sentence. "What else do you expect me to do, huh? After you graduate in a few weeks, we both will leave this town to start new, leaving everything behind, how do think life works? We can’t start anywhere without some financial security." You couldn’t think of better financial security than your jewelry. Maybe you really should have asked Eddie first before you started hiding individual pieces of jewelry in his trailer, but honestly: his trailer was the best hiding place and you were more than happy to invest in your future together.

"Maybe we shouldn’t," he muttered under his breath.

"What do you mean?"

"It doesn’t matter anyway," he shrugged his shoulders, "I gathered every piece of jewelry you left at my place - at least the ones I could find - and put it with an envelope in your mailbox." You had hoped you had misheard. Your eyes threatened to pop out of your skull at what he told you.

"You did- What?!" You yelled, your hand clapping in front of your mouth in shock. "Are you insane? How could you do that? Oh my- What if someone saw you?"

"I guess that should’ve crossed your mind when you decided to do something without asking me in the first place."

"Oh is that what this is about?" Your blood boiled with anger. "A stupid punishment method so I can learn from my mistakes?"

He down to you, "Accept that it’s not meant to be."

"What are you talking about? At least I do something, I plan. What do you do? Nothing. You just tell me not to worry and destroy what I worked for."

"I keep you from making a mistake!"

"What mistake?" You gritted your teeth, looking at him questioningly

His gaze dropped, hurt in his eyes, "Us."

Your heart dropped suddenly when you realized what he was talking about. You wanted to be angry at him, but you couldn’t ignore the direction your argument went.

"Why do you say such nonsense?" you asked him in an upset voice, "No, please," you shook your head in disbelief, "No, don’t say that."

Eddie shook his head, laughing bitterly at himself, "I’m in love with you, y/n, even if you’re stubborn at times, that’s why I‘m in love with you." You couldn't be happy about his confession because you knew where it would lead. "But-" He took a deep breath.

"Don’t say it," you pleaded softly with tears picking in your eyes.

"All this doesn’t save us," your heart crunched at the thought. "Years later, I don't want to hear that I've put you off your happiness. That I'm the reason you left your fiancé. That I’m the one who convinced you to hide your jewelry. Honestly, y/n, you have a bright future ahead of you with a man who can provide for all your worries and wishes. With him your happiness is certain. That person is not me. With me… I can’t guarantee what tomorrow brings." He stopped himself, one hand clenched into a fist.

"That’s bullshit!" you interrupted him angrily.

"Being with me is a risk I can't ask you to take," he underlined his statement.

"No! No, I don’t accept that, Eddie!" You put your hands on his broad shoulders. That simple touch already messed you up. Once again you had to realize how engaging his closeness was. "I did that myself. I only ask for your support."

"You always have my support. But you need to start on your own. You need to face your family on your own and you need to defend your rights. I can’t- I won’t part you from your family unless you take the first step. This is a path you must walk yourself."

"Okay," you agreed, "fine. So let’s- let’s just try okay? Try to think of a plan." You nodded your head and tried to form a smile.

"There is no plan." You didn't expect to feel a sharp pain in your chest when he said that. "I want you to be happy."

"Please." It was barely louder than a gust of wind. The words choked in your throat before you could even say them. It must have sounded pathetic, you were sure. Your desperation was clearly audible, while you were still looking at your counterpart, his black hair glistened slightly in the sunshine, and that was the last thing you remembered from that day.

Your heart bled because the pain you felt was unbearable. The doubts about yourself and your future plans grew from day to day, they grew and seemed to have no end. You had wished Eddie would take your worries and burn them to ashes, but you had been wrong. In an attempt to escape your fate, you had burned yourself. You had placed too much hope in one person. That's what made you suffer. He was just responsible for most things in your life. For everything good, but also for the opposite. You couldn't help but project all your anger and disappointment that you felt at your screwed-up family onto him. It wasn't fair to him, but you couldn't help yourself in your desperation. This realization drove you further and further into the seemingly endless emptiness in your life and heart. You had hoped he would become the good, the future, the happiness, a new chance in your previously loveless life. But the only thing you had left was more suffering for more than a week now.

You were caught between your feelings.

You crouched on the cold floor, a thin white blanket wrapped around you. You didn't care what would happen to you. Nothing in this world could comfort you because you didn't know what to do with yourself. Your situation seemed hopeless. Hot tears slowly ran down your cheeks and dripped onto the wooden floor, which was covered with wedding magazines that your mother brought to your room every day. Or individual pages that were torn out angrily because the perfect models reminded you too much of your mother's glamor or your father's charisma. The people who were to blame for everything you were feeling in the moment. They were responsible, and not Eddie. You whimpered again at that fact, your heart tightening bitterly.

You wept bitterly again, echoing right through that empty room. You were all alone in this room, all alone in this house, all alone in this entire world. It was dark and the stars could be seen through the window as well as the moon which was full today. It shone in the room where you couldn't walk without tripping over one of the numerous magazines and wedding dresses.

Only you cast shadows in the suffocating room. You pulled the blanket closer because it was bitterly cold – not the temperature in the room, but your insides. Your face must have looked awful, it was stained with tears and your eyes that were so full of life were empty. Your gaze was infinitely empty.

Finally, the day of days came around. Although every cell in your body fought against it, you stood in front of the large mirror in the bridal room next to where your wedding was supposed to take place. Everybody who was anybody, all the movers and shakers in and around Hawkins were invited to this pompous wedding in the town's biggest and oldest church. Not because your family was overly religious, but because they had to keep up appearances and the prestige that came with it; not to forget the aesthetics.

At noon soft cashmere and strong cologne took over Hawkins under white sunshine – the perfect summer day. And even so, the birds chirping were a constant alarm in your ears, the bright colors of your guests’ most extravagant clothes served as warning signs, the outside temperature indicating a first taste of the hell that would soon be your life.

You appreciated the short time you were given alone in the bridal room because everyone else had last organizational tasks to do, as gradually all the guests gathered inside the church and took their places.

In the bridal room, you took one last look at the full-length mirror in front of you. For weeks, a dozen people, most notably your mother, had been bugging you with all the wedding preparations. You've had to try on more wedding dresses than you've seen in your entire life. Your hair had been styled in a variety of ways. The most elaborate makeup looks had been tried on you to the point where you’ve no longer had recognized yourself. At the end of the day, you were even happy to be allowed to wear natural makeup and a long wedding dress with a rather decent design. Yes, allowed. 'Cause like a doll you'd been dragged from place to place, from look to look. At least you were satisfied with the results concerning your appearance, even if you wished for other actors in your personal nightmare. You would have no objection to an exchange of the groom for example.

You sighed sadly as you ran your finger over your reflection.

"Why that face, angel?" You jumped at that voice, turning around harshly, almost knocking out the table next to you.

Your breath caught when you realized you weren't alone in the room and you couldn't believe your eyes when you realized who this person was, for in front of you was –

Eddie

Fucking

Munson.

Looking smoking hot, be noted. The smirk never leaving his lips, he leaned at the frame of the closed door behind him. You took in his appearance. Black attire as if he’d attend a funeral. He had taken off his black leather jacket and had instead thrown it over his shoulder. The black shirt he wore was hugging his torso just right. Thanks to the rolled-up sleeves you could see parts of the tattoos on his arms. He had gotten inked early in his youth, and of course, he had designed and done tattoos himself as well. He was gifted with his hands; in many ways.

Focus, you told yourself.

You debated with yourself whether you should address your most recent conversation right at the beginning, or whether you should greet him first, or alternatively, whether you should start by asking him how the hell he got into this room.

But instead, you said, "Sometimes I forget how hot you are."

"Can’t say the same." Your smile faltered. Right. He had every right to be angry at you. One compliment obviously didn’t change it. But his next words surprised you.

"I remember very well how hot you are. And trust me," he walked over to you as you took a step back until you could feel the cold glass of the mirror behind you, trapping yourself between him and the mirror. Casually, he leaned forward, putting a hand on the said mirror next to your face, and placing his lips very close to your ear, whispering, "I tried to forget."

On purpose, he brushed his lips against yours innocently as he moved away slowly. You held back a moan, not wanting him to see how desperately you wanted him.

"And seeing you in your wedding dress," as he walked backward his gaze caressed you from top to bottom, making you shiver. "Believe me when I say I’m very hot and bothered right now."

Just the way he looked at you turned you on harder than any other person before. You had missed him so much. His voice. His scent. That special look in his eyes that literally undressed you.

"Eddie," you looked at him, a bit of melancholy mirrored in your gaze, but you couldn’t help yourself at the thought of what had happened between you, "I am sorry."

He shook his head quickly, "There is nothing for you to apologize for," he interrupted. "I’m well aware of your kind intentions."

"But I need to say it," you insisted and he let you do it. "It’s just- I thought it was a great idea. Selling my jewelry, I mean. Which – I admit – were bought from my father’s money, but at the end of the day they’re my belongings, you know," you explained honestly, "And I tried to explain to you that day that I saw it as a chance to break free from my father’s money and do something on my own."

You hesitated. He nodded for you to continue, so you did. "And I was hoping you would do that with me until-"

"I left-" He completed your sentence for you.

"Yes." He didn't say anything to that for a long time. What else should he say on the big day of your wedding? Congratulate you on marrying a strange man you couldn’t stand one bit? It was too late. Fate wasn’t on your side.

"Forgive me," you heard him say all of a sudden and you looked up from the ground just to see him walking two strides before you found yourself in his arms. You returned the hug dearly, inhaling his intoxicating scent, trying to make up for the time lost. "I’ve said things I shouldn’t have said. I'm sorry to have left you alone, and I'm sorry I didn't get back to you sooner."

"Stop with the sorry’s," you replied, hugging him harder, "You were right, I made some mistakes but you were none of them." The longing had gripped you completely, the fire blazed more and more in you. You've never loved anyone so deeply, you've never wanted anyone more. Your chest began to heave violently, just sucking in more of his scent. The seconds passed felt like hours.

"I let this pass only because we have little time left, but I will make it up to you, I promise," he pushed you slightly away from you to look into your eyes. "Given, you want me to."

"I don’t understand. What are you up to?"

"Let me ask you three questions."

"Okay."

"Do you want to marry that guy in there?" He nodded his head towards the door. You made a disgusted face.

"No!"

He grinned, "Wanna elope with me then?"

You scanned his body language unsure if he was bullshitting.

"Isn’t it a little late for that? Everyone in there will see us. I don’t even know how you managed to come here. I have so many questions, Eddie." He took your face in his hands, making you stop talking; his gaze wandering between your eyes and your lips.

"Do you trust me?" he asked you seriously, raising both his eyebrows.

"Don't ask me questions you know the answers to," you replied with the same amount of seriousness to which he cracked a smile.

"Alright, then. I want you to go out there and be the hottest bride anyone has ever seen."

"What?!"

"See? That’s why I asked whether you trusted me or not."

"I do trust you, Eddie," you set straight, "I trust you more than anyone, even more than I trust myself but… I can’t… I just… go out there? When you were just talking about eloping with you? How is this supposed to help?" you stammered nervously.

His right hand wandered to your shoulder where he stroked your exposed skin calmingly, and with the other, he played with the tip of a strand of your hair that had fallen forward. "Just play along, babe, will you?"

You sighed in surrender and nodded, although you still felt a little uneasy in your stomach.

"I promise it’ll all work out," he assured again. His hand on the doorknob, he leaned in to plant a kiss on your forehead and then disappeared out the door, leaving you more confused and nervous than before.

If you didn't have an audience and weren't holding the hand of that snob, you were sure you would have been biting your nails by now. You trusted him. You trusted Eddie and his words. But the tension wouldn't let you rest. Especially not if you were already standing in front of the altar and were only minutes away from saying yes to the man you didn’t want.

Where was he? What was his plan? Did he want you to go through with the marriage? It really couldn’t be it.

"… to love, honor, and protect her through sunshine and shadow alike,"

You were about to pass out.

Eddie, what the fuck is your fucking plan?

"...keeping yourself unto her alone,"

The man addressed – you weren't even sure if he was listening to the pastor – didn’t look at you, but instead looked past you to your bridesmaid, whom he impudently checked out. If there weren't so many witnesses, you'd be sure to make a gagging sound at the face he put on.

"...until death shall separate you?"

He somehow managed to direct his gaze back to you and answered with an arrogant "I do."

Your head snapped to the pastor as you heard your name and knew what was to follow. There was no more time left. It was now or never. You couldn't and didn't want to wait for a sign, because it was high time that you took your destiny into your own hands and stood up for yourself no matter the consequences.

"Do you intend to take this man, whose hand you hold, to be your lawful wedded hus-" Suddenly you let go of the man's hand in front of you as if you had burned yourself from his touch. He looked at you like you'd gone mad. There was a murmur from the crowd.

The pastor cleared his throat, "Y/n, please join hands."

You were determined not to do so. Instead, you grabbed your dress, pulled it up slightly so you could at least see your feet, and wordlessly took a step onto the stair below you, leaving the altar. Just as you expected a babble of voices, there was a loud bang from outside, causing heads to turn around and some to gasp in shock. Your body reflexively winced at the noise. Before you had time to identify the sound, a second bang was heard. Loud. Echoing. As if the clerestory windows were vibrating. And then many consistent little cracking sounds were heard as well, alternating with more bangs. Something was happening out there and it didn't sound good at all. It had taken a total of twenty seconds before the first angry scream was heard and the guests all got up frantically. Some curled up in their seats while others rushed toward the double door exits to get outside as quickly as possible. As for you, you were frozen in motion and trying to get as much out of your surroundings as possible to better estimate danger. Running out might not be a good option as that's where the commotion came from. So you thought until your eyes met a pair of warm brown orbs.

Relaxation settled in your bones, and you breathed out a sigh of relief. The grin on his face quickly revealed that he was the cause of the chaos. The way he nonchalantly leaned against the concrete pillar and ignored the panicked wedding guests who rushed to leave the place as soon as possible; he had definitely something to do with it. That had to be your cue.

Between the people running and screaming around, the loud bangs from outside, the strong smell that reminded you of New Year's Eve, and the stifling heat, you walked towards Eddie down the aisle with certainty and big strides until your faces were only mere inches apart.

"Hi," he grinned happily like a little child on Christmas morning.

"Hi," you bit your lower lip, melting under his intense gaze.

And that's all you needed as you locked your hands and ran from the ceremony. Unlike everyone else, however, you took the side rear exit and not the main exit. So it was easy for you to walk around the church, past other buildings, and straight into the adjacent woods where no one would follow you because it would take a long time for them to notice your absence.

"Wow, that was fucking awesome!" he shouted euphorically when you arrived at a kind of lonely clearing and reduced your speed.

Immediately you grabbed his black shirt and pulled him to you with all the strength you still had. His hair fell across your face as you nuzzled in his chest, inhaling his intoxicating scent. All the tension of the weeks let go. When you felt his hand on your lower back, you pulled him even closer to feel his whole body against yours. Now you could clearly perceive his warmth, you could also feel his heartbeat, which was beating at least as wild as yours. You looked up from his chest only to see that he was already looking down at you. You looked deep into his dark big eyes. That closeness was intoxicating, feeling him so close to you took you into another world when it was just mere contact with his body. It felt forbidden-good.

"Y-" He didn't get any further when he opened his mouth to speak this time, for you had already pressed your lips to his, thus stifling his next words. No, that touch wasn't gentle and careful. The kiss was rough and fierce, expressing all the longing you felt. Your breathing quickened again at this contact, but it wasn't just you that felt the same way, Eddie's breathing seemed to become more uncontrolled as well. It immersed you in something that you couldn't let go of. You were a prisoner of yourself and Eddie alone was your key to your freedom, and so much more.

You let go of his shirt and pulled away from him, breathing heavily. There was no need for words, his features had lost any usual expression. Because you now clearly saw the longing in his eyes. That look of his said more than he could and would ever say. A feeling grew in you. You wanted him for yourself, all by yourself. Addiction took hold of you, you wanted more, much more.

Your next thoughts were interrupted. His right hand touched your left cheek unsteadily and gently, drawing a small sigh of comfort from you as the cold metal of his rings met your hot skin. His fingertips brushed your cheek gently as if he were afraid you would flinch if he increased the touch. His lips were now beginning to form a small, intrigued smile. He obviously liked it that you sighed like that. That he caused this reaction in you. You closed your eyes and continued to enjoy his loving touches extensively.

"Marry me." His soft voice broke the silence and your heart started pounding harder in your chest. It was no question but a statement and you remembered how you wanted him not to ask any questions whose answers he knew already. But you were only too willing to answer this one.

"Yes," you breathed with glistening eyes.

He chuckled under his breath, and you swear you could see the stars in his eyes.

"If we hurry, we can still make it to our appointment at the registry office."

"Our appointment?"

"Henderson helped me organize a rather last-minute thing," he explained sheepishly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "You like it?"

But of course, you liked it! Why was he still asking this, after all, he noticed everything immediately anyway, so why this question now? Just his touch alone took you to a place you always wanted to be, it filled you with bliss and gave you a promise of a better tomorrow. It went without saying that the appointment at the registry office appealed to you; you being only one small step away from being the woman at his side forever, from being Mrs. Munson.

You were about to answer and opened your mouth slightly, but when you felt his index finger on your lower lip, you stopped. Why did he interrupt you now? Shortly after that gentle touch, he lifted his finger from your mouth to lean forward a little. His warm, soft lips wiped away any doubts that might have arisen in your mind. Immediately you let out another satisfied sigh, with which you wanted to show him again that you liked it very much. You loved to return his kiss, which your heart was looking forward to. Your senses were on another level, this strong feeling made you completely light-headed and showed you that love could be something so wonderful.

After all, you were his angel and he was your sweet heaven; your sweet heaven and your doe-eyed future.

· · · · -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- · · · ·

thank you for reading <3

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lesbian-archives · 2 years

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hey! how are you? i was wondering: was dworkin a lesbian? bc some feminists say she was married to a gay man and it wasn’t a real marriage but other ones say she was for real married to a man. do you have some source abt it? i’m asking genuinely, i’ve read so many things and i’m not certain anymore. here the discourse about who was a real lesbian or not is insane.

Hello! I'm great, thanks! I think I've spent the last two hours digging and trying to make sense of it myself, here is what I found! Let's start off with the foreword in Intercourse, in short it describes: - Some of Dworkin's friends say they never saw her ever actually have a relationship with other women. - Political lesbianism (heterosexual and bisexual women using the word lesbian as a political identity to describe them identifying with other women, which is a usage I do not agree with) was popular at the time and the likely one of the reasons why she identified with it. - Dworkin had a chronic illness that eventually lead to her death and Stoltenberg's insurance could cover her medical costs if they married. The Wikipedia page about her relationship with John Stoltenberg paints us more detailed picture: - Moving in together, their agreement was that while they would always live together, they could have relationships outside of their partnership. They planned never to marry unless one of two things occurred. As Andrea stated to The New York Times in 1985, "unless one of us is terminally ill or jailed for political activity." - In Martin Duberman’s biography, Andrea Dworkin: the Feminist as Revolutionary, John is quoted describing the sexual dimension of their relationship. Andrea’s relationship with a woman, Joanne, was unwinding though the last half of the decade, and John maintained gay relationships with men throughout their time together. But their love was expressed sexually on occasion, intimately and with affection and passion. - Although Dworkin publicly wrote, "I love John with my heart and soul", and Stoltenberg described Dworkin as "the love of my life", she continued to publicly identify herself as lesbian, and he as gay. Stoltenberg, recounting the perplexity that their relationship seemed to cause people in the press, summarized the relationship by saying, "So I state only the simplest facts publicly: yes, Andrea and I live together and love each other and we are each other's life partner, and yes we are both out." To me it seems that she identified as a lesbian to describe her sexual attraction to women, political alliance, and overall devotion to other women, but not solely as a sexual orientation nor as the way we understand lesbian meaning women exclusively attracted to other women. She did have a relationship with Stoltenberg but the legal marriage itself was motivated by insurance. You can find her definition of lesbian in her speech at the 1974 rally for Lesbian Pride Week in Central Park here. Honestly, I'm not too invested in proving whether or not she was exclusively attracted to women (I don't think she was exclusively, there are a lot of contradictions, and it's really confusing to parse through what is true or not). I'm much more interested in her writing, ideas, and impact! It's impossible to truly know what her sexual orientation was, but I think the foreword, the 1974 speech, and some snippets of the Wikipedia article can be helpful in understanding what her motivations/reasonings may have been in identifying with the word "lesbian" (and the contradictions that came with it). This is by no means the only information out there but this is the conclusion I came to after some brief research.

Below the cut are the paragraphs from Intercourse that explore this and here is a link to the PDF:

Many of Dworkin's friends did not find out that she and Stoltenberg were legally married until they read her obituary in the newspapers. "We hated being called husband and wife," Stoltenberg says. "When pressed, we would say 'spouse.' Spouse or life partner are words that we used." Friends knew, of course, that the two had lived together for more than 30 years, but there are various reasons why Dworkin would not have wanted her marriage to a man to be public information. For one thing, there was the matter of her being a lesbian.

Dworkin spoke about this many times. At a rally for Lesbian Pride Week in Central Park in 1974-- when she was already living with Stoltenberg-- Dworkin said, "This love of women is the soil in which my life is rooted." She went on to talk about "erotic passion and intimacy" among women, and a "wild, salty tenderness," but this is harder to get your head around if you are familiar with her oeuvre. In her writings, there are too many smoldering descriptions of heterosexual sex to count, but the mentions of lesbianism are either bloodless-- "There is pride in the nurturant love which is our common-ground"-- or funny: "Q: There are a lot of rumors about your lesbianism. No one quite seems to know what you do with whom. A: Good" (as she wrote in a satiric piece called "Nervous Interview". Catharine Mackinnon told me, "Lesbian is one of the few words you've got to make a positive claim about identifying with women, to say I'm with women. It doesn't necessarily mean without men. Women are socially defined sexually as an inferior class. Lesbian is a sexual word; that's why it's stigmatized. In addition to her history and feelings, that's a lot of why Andrea identified by it, I think." Another of Dworkin's closest friends had a different take on the matter of Dworkin's sexuality: "In 30-plus years of knowing her, I've never heard of a single romance with a woman-- not one."

Regardless of how and whether Dworkin practiced lesbianism, the fact remains that it was important to her to have be identified as a lesbian. It's a label many people have difficulty claiming, yet to Dworkin it was a badge of rebellion against the patriarchy, a system she had warred against throughout her entire life. But has the institution of marriage not been a fundamental building block of that very system? Dworkin had questioned and probed and rejected every expression of male dominance she could think of, even intercourse, with remarkable creativity and devotion and yet she married-- in secret. Why?

At a memorial for Dworkin held at the National Arts Club in New York City about a month after her death, Stoltenberg suggested to the hundred or so assembled friends and fans that the reason he and Dworkin wed was partly practical. If Dworkin had not been his legal wife, she would not have been covered by his health insurance, and the bills for the frequent surgeries and hospital stays that punctuated the end of her life would have left the couple in financial ruins. So Dworkin had real-world reasons for playing within the rules of the system, even if it was a system she'd always abhorred.

#anon #personal #andrea dworkin

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tiredassmage · 10 months

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23, 24, 25

I know I sat on these too long because I couldn't decide who to answer them for, so stealing a leaf out of JB's book and making the wheel of names pick, lmao.

both bc this is long and 24 discusses workplace safety violations (suggestive wink wonk), 24 & 25 under the cut.

[Uncommon OC Questions]

23. How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)? - Savosta

I think Savosta struggles with... most strong emotion, which maybe sounds a bit odd for a Sith, but his teachers primarily taught him to harness rage. And envy's an interesting one because he's not... particularly been in a position to envy much - not that there isn't things to envy, but rather more that the reality that such things are unachievable to him is usually stronger and the leading feeling.

So, something like envy would kind of make him Windows error noise internally. In a way, he envies Rhystyl's ability to rely on his friends - that he has people he can warmly think of as such. But in that particular instance, it's something Savosta's largely unfamiliar with, which makes him inquisitive. Savosta hasn't been able to really rely on someone since he was exiled from the Chiss Ascendancy around his early teens; he lost that when his family turned him out into the cold for his Force sensitivity and what the Chiss believe of such abilities. He doesn't entirely understand it, but he sees it as a strength in Rhyst - something he wants to emulate, so he first must learn how and why it is so important to the Jedi Knight.

Brushing with the Ascendancy several years later again during the Alliance era is maybe his other strongest occurence of something like envy - that their lives are still whole, that the notorious Chiss indifference to the larger galaxy so long as Chiss interests are protected remains intact all these years later, almost like nothing has changed. He does and doesn't resent being cast out; on one hand, it changes nothing to long for what he lost as a child. He'd barely recognize his family if he saw them again, he thinks, and they are rather unlikely to recognize him. He will not renounce what he is and he sure as hell will not grovel for the Ascendancy's approval. He... dislikes that they recognize his power now because it is more convenient to do so, because the Alliance is a power in the galaxy now that maybe offer something to them. But he doesn't know quite what to make of all these mixed emotions. He does not do more with Aristocra Saganu than is necessary to facilitate their roles as speakers for their respective parties. He does not recognize any such claims that he is "one of their own." There's no ire, only detachment when he says something along the lines of, "That is an honor you lost when you sent me away. I am no Chiss." Not as they are, at any rate.

24. Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom? - Theo

Cheating slightly with this one because Theo has probably the most fun answer to this, lol, and I don't talk about him nearly enough.

Theo will unabashedly discuss sex with just about anyone who shows the slightest interest in having a conversation. He'll trade you tips, discuss his experiences (no names, though - unless he's talking with his partners, of course), tell you his favorites, all over morning coffee, if you'd like. He's extremely comfortable with himself and what he's done and genuinely would wish others to also enjoy their own experiences, so if his helps, he is glad to offer the service.

Theo is also a notorious flirt in public with his partners because Carvallain likes to glare at him like he's the greatest nuisance in Vylbrand, but... if he wasn't genuinely into it, he'd make a more convincing argument to shut Theo up. >:3

25. What are their thoughts on marriage? - Lensan

Not exactly a priority for him; Len has always been a soldier and a warrior first. Particularly, he's against the idea of being "settled down" or "domestic," I think. He's stubborn and driven and would prefer to go out with a pair of blasters firing in his hands and - while he's smug and macho about it - that isn't exactly the kind of life Imperials tend to chase as marriage material. Len's against the traditional ceremony of it more than anything. Words on a paper or some overpriced jewels to settle on petite hands isn't going to cut it for him.

He's a lot of bluff and bluster, quite frankly. There's a place in his heart that could find some fondness for the idea of pledging such loyalty to someone to spend the rest of your lives fighting at each other's sides and trading lashes of witty tongues. Just don't expect him to throw a bunch of fanfare on the anniversary or whatever. He'll knock a guy's teeth out at the cantina for you in a heartbeat, but unless your family dinners discuss more kill counts than what figures do you bring home for the year, he's... probably not the kind of guy you wanna take home to your parents in the first place.

And still, I imagine it'd take some convincing him - from the right kind of person. Len is of the mind that actions speak louder. Why should you need any ceremony for it?

#answered #ch: savosta #ch: theo valeroyant #ch: lensan

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mc-critical · 2 years

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Hi, I love many of your posts and I wonder what’s your take on Mustafa/Aybige engagement and Mahidevran’s role in it.

I generally like Mustafa very much as a character but i find him just pretty awful in his whole thing: sure u don’t love each other, but openly making out with your concubine when you’re engaged is just a really shit move. Also how he and Mahi both reacted with outrage when they heard Aybige escaped with Bali Bey (even though they had no real evidence initially) was just hypocritical.

I don’t get why they both believed Efsun so easily and didn’t realise that she was trying to poison Mustafa all this time.

Hi! Thank you for liking my posts! :)

For me, the arranged engagement between Mustafa and Aybige has always been kind of a double-edged sword. On one hand, it's not right from the moral standpoint of neither Mustafa's, nor Aybige's opinions being put into consideration while making the decision (which is why Mustafa initially protested). And yes, they would have issues even if they ended up marrying, because both of their hearts beat for someone else. They wouldn't be fulfilled in that marriage and would always manage to find a way to escape from it. They wouldn't try to change the way they view each other, no matter how hard Mahidevran tries to force it (as shown in E52), they would live their lives as they usually do. It's even likely for them to not be around each other that much, too - they could pull an act only in official gatherings, just for show. Say, Aybige isn't above flirting with Mustafa in little ways in order to make Malkocoğlu jealous, but how long would that last? Mustafa is decent enough to Aybige and they both get along fine (and yet, they perceive their relationship as that of siblings/cousins, never as that of romantic partners), but would it be enough? Besides, if matters with the loves of their lives get wider and harder to avoid, leaning closer to becoming public knowledge, that could cause quite a few fights between them, since both are prideful enough not to let all of this reach such proportions.

But on the other hand, the high political benefits are definitely there. And given that every alliance made matters for the fight for the throne, I perfectly get this one aspect of Mahidevran's motivation in making the decision. She finds the support of Crimea essential for the future of her son and she isn't going to back down from that. For all she knows, even though Mustafa isn't in love with Aybige, the marriage can function, it has to function. I think the confrontation between her and Mustafa after the news were announced in E50, sums up the best both a big part of why she did it and why I understand it. There her beliefs clash with Mustafa's, as she is the more pragmatic voice of reason to his more driven by initial feelings self. It's also a clash of a principled son who's been put on the spot by the firmness and suddenness of this decision and thinks his own individual perspective should be valued, and a mother who takes account of the necessities of the environment both her and her şehzade are in and is willing to override the individual will for an advantageous benefit Mustafa doesn't (yet) realize. As we see in the scene, Mahidevran hasn't envisioned a "normal family life" for Mustafa, a prince who has rivals regardless and that should prevail over them in any way he can. Mustafa views his private life outside of the fight for the throne and any and all threats he could face (and continues doing so throughout the series), but even now, Mahidevran can see the way they are intertwined, so she could never really separate them the way he does. Her idea to marry Mustafa and Aybige has both personal and political motives. It's not all perfect, but I can get behind Mahidevran's perspective. When it comes to the bigger picture, we yet again have her playing the role of a mother and advisor that secures her heir's chances of becoming a sultan and vouches for him, the first move regarding Mustafa that went in such a direction, actually (since the stakes were rooted in something else until then).

In spite of his solidarity for his mother's experiences, Mustafa has a traditional outlook on the harem. There's a sense of normality in having more than a woman, because it's what he's known and grown up with his entire life. Right when he came back to Topkapi and up until Mahidevran decided to marry him with Aybige, it was even expected of him to perpetuate that system with a harem of his own. But at the same time, when it comes to the harem, Mustafa constantly puts his own feelings first. If he doesn't feel anything for a woman, he doesn't force himself and gives more attention to the one he actually feels something for instead. And no obligation or responsibility ever get in the way of that. He loves Efsun, he wants to be with her, so he does just that. Aybige is solely a formality. Mustafa only shows how he neglects his duties (like his mother remarked) and doesn't take this engagement seriously. Yes, he let Aybige know that they both'd go on as they used to and she seemingly agreed, I get that none of them truly asked for this and that Mustafa is crazy in love, but this is still a flawed approach, yup.

That said, his reaction to finding out about Aybige and Bali Bey is explainable. While he isn't personally fond of the engagement, he surely would want to enforce the formal look of it, especially given that he eventually realizes its political benefit. He appears to be fine with her having other stuff going on - he has too, and, as he told her in E55, he wanted this engagent to be broken as well, but not like that. Doing something like an escape wouldn't sit that well with him, because it's a matter of wounded pride as much as it is a matter of "betrayal", a ruckus that shouldn't have been caused in the first place. What Aybige has (allegedly) done is considered a crime in this environment. Her having a supposed secret relationship complicates matters much more than Mustafa wanted. Yes, the evidence he has isn't all that solid, with him placing his trust in Efsun (along with perhaps finding merit in both his mother's words and his father's order to bring Bali Bey and Aybige back, we know how much does Mustafa trust his father especially, after all), but he still gave Aybige the benefit of the doubt by saying he wanted to believe her and hoped she was innocent, even though he leaned more towards there being something between Malkocoğlu and her. So he wasn't totally outraged and he didn't write her off entirely either. Mustafa's reaction has the chance to be seen as hypocritical in the "even if Aybige did it, why does he judge her when he himself spent his time only with Efsun when he's engaged? he has no right to act like that!" sense, but in terms of the customs of the castle and the sheer probability of Aybige's escape that is and normally should be viewed through the lens of these customs, it's not quite hypocritical, definitely not in his or Mahidevran's eyes.

I understand Mahidevran's reaction even more, because the roots of her suspicions regarding Bali Bey and Aybige are deeper than those of anyone else (besides Hürrem who knows for sure, of course). She was lead to think, time and time again, that there actually was something between them. There were quite some hints she had to put into consideration: it wasn't only Efsun's words about how Hürrem supposedly plans to ruin Aybige and Mustafa's engagement, it was also Mahi seeing Bali Bey and Aybige in the garden only a few scenes later, which led to her warning Aybige about the consequences in the first place, and the person assigned to escort Aybige to Crimea turning out to be, coincidentally enough, exactly *Bali Bey* of all people, which added even more fuel to an already almost lit fire. The moment Mahidevran learnt, she didn't actually believe that these two had an affair all that easily, claiming that it couldn't be, that it was impossible. However, upon further investigation, she started to put the puzzle together after remembering Mihrimah's remarks from the previous episode and the list of suspicious words and happenings she witnessed only grew afterwards. And when all of this is put into the mix, I can sure see why what she heard and saw rang a bell in her head; perhaps there truly is something cooking up on the horizon, perhaps there is a reason to worry after all. Suddenly all these fragile in hindsight inklings of a likely affair turn into something bigger, a possible danger that needs to be avoided at all costs by a mother who relies so much on the upcoming arranged marriage of her prince.

All things considered, I believe she did a good enough job at keeping an eye on Aybige and doing it without acting rashly when she was still uncertain of the whole picture at first. Still, everything reached a boiling point of no return when she was told that Aybige and Bali Bey were presumably planning to escape together. No mother would take someone "cheating" on her son well in general, let alone in such a system with such customs where even a rumor could cause so much trouble as I said before, but it would be especially outrageous if that probability has been there in a mother's mind from longer, which is precisely how it is in Mahidevran's case. Not only did this new information about an escape stunt make it look like all her fears and worries are apparently coming true, there's also Aybige who denied every accusation about Bali Bey that was thrown at her before the fiasco even happened and kept denying it even after it turned out that there supposedly really was something between Malkocoğlu and her, which perhaps made Mahidevran even angrier than she was, pulling out the "We show you great respect. Is this what we deserve?" card. I have to admit that this exact line does sound a bit off, since her treatment of Aybige could be a touch demanding, but even with that in mind, it's once again explainable why Mahidevran was so outraged about what she considered true. I don't think we should expect of her to consider any hypocrisy of her reaction when, for all she knew, such a thing like an escape attempt has come to pass.

Underneath it all, there's really one main reason Mustafa trusted Efsun: he loved her enough to want to believe in her innocence, to want to believe that everything his mother said about her wasn't true. And if we look at things outside of the perception of the audience, Efsun herself didn't act all that suspiciously around Mustafa as far as I recall, except for the fateful night of her being about to poison him - all the evidence for her wrongdoings delivered to him until then was pretty much flaky at best. Mustafa doesn't have much in-universe reason to think that there was an attempt to poison him, let alone one carried by Efsun, either - why would he when even the doctor himself said that Mustafa couldn't possibly be poisoned or else they would've known immediately? Is Mustafa's love for Efsun still somewhat blind and naive, judging by what she's done and the way he learns about it? Yes, but that's the point: Mustafa experiencing both his first love and first loss at the same time, an event that would make him grow as a person and show a more shady and less hesitant side of himself, is literally the whole purpose of the Efsun arc.

But unlike Mustafa, Mahidevran was never fond of Efsun. She always looked for ways to estrange her son from her even before she knew anything about her ulterior motives. That's where the personal motivation of Mahidevran deciding to marry Mustafa to Aybige comes in: she wanted to prevent the rise of another Hürrem and this marriage was a chance for her to do that - she wanted to ensure the traditional order, along with making a beneficial political alliance. She also exiled Nora in E50 and Nora returned only thanks to Mustafa. Right, she agreed with Gülşah letting her be there in Musti's harem, even though she served Hürrem before (although the whole reasoning behind taking her in was to one-up Hürrem to begin with), and was seemingly fine with the fact that he liked Nora in the entertainment arranged for him, sure, but the moment she noticed that her son started to pay extra attention to her and, in extension, falling in love with her, she took matters into her own hands. The exact second she found out about Efsun's true intentions, no matter how flaky her evidence was, she began distrusting Efsun and never ceased distrusting her, constantly trying to convince Mustafa of her guilt and threatening her to loyalty, exactly because she guessed what her mission was and suspected her to be up to something, even bringing the matter of her being a spy to everyone in E52. Heck, the very episode Mustafa became sick, the first one Mahidevran suspected was *Efsun*, asking her what did she do with the prince for him to become sick, since he was fine before. She also suspected poison and was the first and only person to actually suspect it while the doctors were trying to discover what was behind Mustafa's condition. She lowered her guard not because she believed Efsun easily and poison never crossed her mind, but because the doctor said that it couldn't have been poison and her falling into helplessness after SS asked her who could possibly poison him, along with Mustafa getting better so soon, leading her to assume that it was something else from the food, not poison. And when Efsun became pregnant, the focus pretty much shifted towards what they were going to do with the baby, matters became much more urgent than mere suspicion. I feel that's why the news of Efsun's attempt on Mustafa were somewhat shocking even to Mahidevran. She made many, albeit unsuccessful, attempts to prevent Efsun's influence from spreading before that.

#magnificent century #muhteşem yüzyıl #muhtesem yuzyil #mahidevran sultan #sehzade mustafa #submission #ippolita324

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