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gemsofgreece · 5 months ago

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(I don't remember which academic paper I read on the subject but the thesis was that there was a HUGE possibility that the use of the 'rape' could have either been a different word or a mistranslation of another word.)

(it's been a long time since I read that but considering how many pre-christian myths depict scenes of forced intercourse, yet the available original texts implied something else is pretty interesting. What are your thoughts on that? Also if you know which source I could be referring to please let me know )

I wasn’t able to find the paper in question but I found several forums / webpages that seemed to refer to it.

What I know is that there has not been an Ancient Greek word to mean “rape” in the way we associate it strictly with sexual assault and coercion nowadays. The Greek word for “rape” is βιασμός (viasmós), which vaguely means “application of violence”. This was a pretty generic term in antiquity and the Middle Ages and it came to mean specifically sexual violence relatively recently in the course of time.

All the sexual coercion committed in Greek mythology or maybe documented implications of rapes in ancient scripts were all phrased in a different way than that of stating a straightforward case of rape. The word often used was the word αρπαγή (arpayí) which means seizing / abduction / even stealing. This was the stated act and then everything that came with it was only insinuated. If there was a need for it, the situation would be described in a circumlocutory way i.e he desired her, she ran away but he did x thing and then managed to copulate with her. I mean, it’s obvious that it was a rape but they did not describe it that clearly, neither with much of a judgemental stance against the perpetrator.

The action of violating or even seducing a woman married to another or a maiden was viewed critically and could lead to punishment and law enforcement but it was more about the perpetrator violating the woman of another man or ruining the maidenhood of a girl eligible for marriage, therefore essentially it was viewed as a crime against the ownership of another man and it was not viewed as a crime related to causing distress / pain / injury to a woman.

From the way ancient literature refers to such acts my personal impression is that there could potentially be emotional response to the turmoil of a woman. Women could feel for her and even men would acknowledge that it was an act that tormented her. However, it wasn’t usually considered worthy of statutory action against the perpetrator for what it caused to the woman alone. It seems to me, and again this is only my personal impression, I could be completely wrong, that there was a pretty matter-of-fact response against enforcing traumatic experiences.

In a way there was often a vibe of “she didn’t want this to happen, which of course she didn’t, she was a woman after all, poor thing, but what can you do”. Even apart from rape, crimes that caused more of an emotional, psychological or non-fatal physical harm were not met with great empathy. It was sort of like

But again that was on an official level. People could have feelings of hatred for the one who wronged a woman. I think we probably shouldn’t equate what picture the state laws and surviving documents paint with what a family member, a friend or a neighbour would feel for a woman that got raped. As a similar example, we often read how men considered their wives and daughters their property, things owned by them with no feelings attached but there are so many epitaphs and burials found made by men for their wives and daughters that are full of grief and melancholy. Therefore I am pretty sure we do not have the full picture.

But in general, I think the response was more focused on the great evil of dishonouring than the actual suffering caused.

Regarding suffering in ancient times, I think one reason we have so much trouble understanding societies of the past is that we forget how incomparably more difficult it was for the people living in them to even survive another day. These people were extremely hardened compared to us and we do not grasp that well enough.

We are talking about an age when little girls “grew” with the full knowledge and acceptance that soon they would be pregnant and they had a huge possibility to die on their first labour. New mothers lived with the knowledge that more than half the children they would manage to bring forth wouldn’t make it past the age of seven. This is not even something all that back in the past. And the loss of a child is the worst emotion a mother can feel, it is thankfully inconceivable to the average human nowadays. But back then it was the norm to feel that pain, Most women (and men) had accepted marriage rarely happened thanks to mutual love, it was more of a financial alliance between families.

And let’s not forget, men lived with the knowledge that at any moment they would likely have to fight for a random cause and lose their life or have their loved ones or themselves turned into slaves. Unless they were in the 1% born in wealth, they knew they would strive for life with extreme physical exertion to make ends meet and (to bring this back to women) to gather enough money to provide for a good marriage for the daughters.

People of these times would throw parties if they made it past the age of 35-40. I often think about how many times I would have been dead by now, without all the medicine and the vaccines. And my estimation is I would have probably not reached thirty. I mean, think even of something simple - an infection in a tooth / the gums. Most of us would be missing half our teeth or live an unimaginable horror by having infected teeth punched out with a little bit of wine or just progressively died from them.

My point with this is that people of old suffered extremely more than we typically do and they were accustomed to survive with all the suffering. An injury, a rape, anything that left you battered mentally and physically would cause some sympathy but soon you would be expected to get over it in order to survive. So, even though it seems terrible to even think of this, the “ok shit happens, now get over it”, it is a totally different statement ethically when it is uttered in 500 BC, in 1000 AD and in 2024 AD. With the feats of technology, philosophy, human studies, the way the human brain has grown so much more potent than the body and its instinct for pure survival only, there is no room for the stoic tolerance of violence and crime anymore.

To be clear, I would not survive a week in Ancient Greece. I wouldn’t survive one tenth of the challenges those women and those people in general faced in their lifetimes. I am sure. And I think this is a way to better capture how ancient people probably felt about crimes. Murder only has been consistently considered the most heinous crime and it makes sense, because surviving in the ancient times required so much constant struggle, so much luck, that it was considered the ultimate hubris against the gods to take a life. But suffering was a given and they learned to eventually live with it. Then again, I think there was even an Athenian law that a murderer would be punished unless he reconciled with the family of the dead!!!! In what scenario would you ever consider it possible to reconcile with someone who killed a loved one of yours?! Never. But this just shows that people’s circumstances were so vastly different that they thought so very differently about life, turmoil and violence.

I don’t think any Ancient Greek in their right mind would not consider sexual coercion a “generally” bad thing, ranging in their minds from bad to heinous. But it seems they had a very hardened, removed way of thinking about this and other non-fatal violence, in a manner that could seem as brushing them off as “too uncontrolled urges” what for us is one of the most despicable, inhuman crimes because now we know what it can cause to the psyche and to the body and mind in the long-term and how incredibly easy it is for the aspiring rapist to, you know, NOT rape and cause such irreparable harm. But the ancients unfortunately did not have the luxury to think about the longterm or their psyche, let alone those of their women, and some would not even grasp such concepts. Not everyone was a philosopher, contrary to what people may imagine.

#greece #europe #Ancient Greece #tw rape #tw multiple violence mentioned #greekbros #ask #opinion

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randomnameless · 3 years ago

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To your post about marriage and women in faerghus, the alliance and adrestia.

1. Annette's uncle threathens to sell her to a noble who wants a crest if she's not perfect + Gilberts whole mess.

2. Rufus is another womanizer.

3. Miklan goes around abducting women from villages.

4. Ingrid situation is not brought to the crown to be solved, Ingrid has to solve this problem on her own

5. Felix: "go find a husband". Said to Ingrid.

6. Mercedes new adoptive father values her only for her crest and plans an arranged marriage to marry her off to a wealthy noble.

7. In all armies we see women fighting. And both Ladislava and Edelgard are women, one a general and the other an emperor. Besides, the common folk from do not have a weird reaction to Ladislava being a woman like: "oh wow she is woman, she as capable as a man" or "how could a woman get to be a general?!". And there is not issue about adrestian women being in the officers/fighting academy.

Oh, thank you about your ask (about this post?)

I’ll answer under the cut, since it’s long

1. About Annette,

In the localised version her support with Dedue goes like this

He said if I wasn't perfect, as a knight's daughter, I'd be devaluing my Crest.

In the japanese version however, she says this :

……そうじゃないと、騎士の娘なんて紋章目当ての貴族に買われて終わりだって。

As I understand it, Annette’s uncle is worried because if she isn’t perfect then, even as a knight’s daughter, she will be able to be bought/married off to any random who is only after a crest - which suggest that if she is “perfect”, then a random who might have a lot of money but only hunt her because of her crest won’t be able to be a suitable “husband” for her.

I honestly do not see where Gilbert’s story has any impact on Annette’s situation as a woman (or her mom’s) - Gilbert might have ran away from his duty and abandonned them, they were not demoted to useless after his exile and are still part of the Dominic family - compare to Mercedes’s fate and her mom, whose House was extinguished the second Papa Martriz died, even if Mercedes and her mom had a crest.

Annette’s uncle wants her to be more than a “crested woman” because he wants her to make a “good” marriage, and be able to refuse randoms who would only be interested by her crest.

Now that I’m typing this, I remember the Dominics are Barons, which is rather low in nobility titles, at least in the english nobility?

2. Rufus whoring around doesn’t change a thing about how Faerghan Royalty is supposed to behave, and I’m willing to say Rufus is seen as an incompetent ruler, not only because of his whoring, but partly because of it.

If Lambert had only one wife and no known mistresses around, why would Rufus keeping a lot of lady friends would be painted in such a negative light? Rufus with his new habits is closer to a Ionius than to Lambert, or what Ionius might have wanted, if he managed to get rid of the “consort kin system”, the reason why the nobles officially rebelled.

3. Yep, Miklan rapes women, but Miklan is a piece of slime and a brigand, in the FE series, brigands do brigand things, like raping/pillaging/burning villages.

I doubt Miklan’s action are supposed to reflect on how a Faerghian noble, or Faerghian royalty, is supposed to act.

4. Ingrid’s situation is very interesting, because she actually solves it on her own, in AM, by merely... talking to her father.

Papa Galatea understands her position, and Ingrid becomes both his heir and also a royal knight of Faerghus, without having to marry.

This is purely headcanon, but if her case had been brought to the Crown, Papa Galatea would have heard his daughter’s wish, and given the same answer he gives at the end of AM.

5. Felix also calls Dedue a dog and Dimitri a boar, so I do not think we are supposed to take his words at face value, but his words are words spoken by a teenager who has a lot of issues, and ultimately works around them at the end of his growth - that is after the timeskip.

6. I do not remember, but Mercedes’s adoptive father isn’t a noble, is he ? Or if he is a minor one, it actually echoes what I wrote earlier about Annette’s situation, women with crests are sought after, yes, because having a crest means having a way to become part of a powerful family. Which is, just like, every noblewoman’s burden - just swap crest by “lands” or “name” or “honorable house” and you get the same results.

A part of Faerghus is not so different from Adrestia in this way.

Edit : her adoptive father is a merchant! He wants to use her to buy a noble name - just like that random who was supposed to marry Ingrid, but her paralogue happens.

7. I am happy to see you bring the common folk, but I don’t really recall seeing a lot of them in the game. Yes, In Edel’s meritocracy, let her be a woman or a man, if Ladislava is a force to be reckoned with, she is going to be a general.

Edelgard isn’t the first woman Emperor in Adrestia, since Ferdinand’s ancestor propose to one of her own ancestors around 100 (she’d be the Emperor after Lycaon I’s death?).

The post was not to point out how women are utterly and completely worthless in Adrestia (or I am exaggerating as always!) - since you rightfully pointed out how there is no opposition to Edel’s ascension to the throne, or randoms who criticise Ladislava on her gender.

However, Adrestia is the only nation we see where a House die because the Lord died, even if his crested wife and crested daughter are still alive. Adrestia is the only country where we hear about a consort kin system (in Hubert and Hanneman’s support, in the jp version!). Ultimately, Adrestia is the only nation where we see two commoner women who worry about their future if their looks cannot secure a good husband.

Annette has to be perfect to find a good husband, so she has to succeed academically and was sent to a lot of schools (Firdhiad and GM). In Adrestia, Bernie’s “training” to find a good husband implies listening to her father lecturing her about X or Y, tying her to a chair. IIRC she goes to GM because her mother wills it, but it’s not tied with a desire or a need to give her a good education.

Ladislava became a proeminent general under Edel’s empire, and Edel herself is an Emperor.

We do not hear about female rulers of Faerghus, but Catherine (when she was still Cassandra) was sent to Garreg Mach to become an officer, and kicked butt right and left with her sword and fists. Ingrid never mentions how odd it is for a woman to want to be a knight, meaning that the idea isn’t completely new in Faerghus - Annette receives a giant hammer, which is, hm, not going to help her score an A+ on her next essay.

Background wise, Cornelia (the og Cornelia) who cured the plague, became Lady Cornelia but wasn’t wed (as far as we know?) to a random noble, nor became Lambert’s concubine.

Before Edel’s reign... we do not hear a lot about specific women in Adrestia, as in women who achieved and did other things than being Ionius’s consort or a noblewoman from a certain House.

So back to the point made in 7. we don’t hear anyone comment how weird it is how X, a woman, fights, let X be from Adrestia, Faerghus, Leicester or a member of the Knights of Seiros.

---

To be more precise, before the war, Faerghus seemed to be the land (we know of!) where women could be, meaning not always, something else than marriage partners. We had Thunderstrike Cassandra and Cornelia.

And for the women who have to marry because of their Houses : Uncle Dominic seems, in a roundabout way, want for Annette to be more than a marriage partner who only brings her crest - this way, she can have better options to find a good husband.

Mercie isn’t so lucky, because her adoptive Father is an ass and doesn’t care about her wellbeing.

Miklan rapes people, and Rufus is seen in a bad light because he has a lot of ladyfriends.

In Adrestia, the only woman we hear of before the war is, bar Edel... Seiros? We learn about Ionius’s concubines, but unlike Rufus, it’s not seen in a bad light.

As for crest related marriages, Bernadetta and Annette’s situations are reversed, Bernadetta is only valued for her crest, when Annette wants to be valued for something else than her crest. Annette is here to study, Bernie is here... because her mom forced her to.

We don’t hear about the Adrestian version of Miklan (bandit raping people) but I suppose Kostas and co might have done other bandit things near Remire...

#irisdescence12 #replies #I hope this wasn't too long!#tl dr we hear things about faerghan women not only tied to who they married or not #but not in adrestia #not to say faerghus is a beacon of feminism #but it seems to acknowledge women can do something else than be wives #and it's sad we had to wait for edel's war and edel's own appointment of Ladislava to get a female knight/soldier/general for Adrestia #Lonato calls Catherine thunderstrike cassandra so I thought Cassandra was already a knight #with her kickass nickname before being branded a traitor and having to run away?#I don't remember if Ingrid said something about female knights not being accepted in the kingdom but if you have the support or line #i'm all ears #FE16

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menelaiad · 2 years ago

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"that follows the Cassandra was not claimed by agamemnon for sexual purposes, but leople don't seem to like that narrative" - can you explain this one a bit further? I kinda get what you're saying but its not something I've really heard before. Sorry if it's actually something obvious and I'm asking a basic question. Thank you for your time

sure sure! i spoke about this in my lectures and it made said when i verbalised it, but if it comes across all warped and muddled in word-form than please just ask me to clarify ASDFGHJKL

OKAY SO. we know that cly wanted to kill aga. it was planned. aeschylus (and to an extent the other tragedians) give us the whole watch-tower-carpet-walking scene that shows that. she WANTED to know when he was coming home to put her plan into action. homer is not so explicit BUT he, again, mentions that it was cly and aeg that killed him implying Some preparation. the two had a plan to execute.

it was not something she planned to do upon seeing aga arrive at mycenea with kassandra.

SO WE HAVE TWO THINGS - it was iphi. pretty black and white. aga had sacrificed their daughter ten years earlier and she spent ten years plotting his murder. did it. credits roll, that's that.

at least that's what the tragedians say. Homer doesn't say WHY. and this is where hyginus comes in and says:

§ 117 CLYTEMNESTRA: Clytemnestra, daughter of Tyndareus and wife of Agamemnon, heard from Oiax, brother of Palamedes, that Cassandra was being brought as a concubine to her house, a false statement Oiax made in order to avenge the wrong done to his brother. Then Clytemnestra, together with Aegisthus, son of Thyestes, planned to kill Agamemnon and Cassandra. They killed him with an axe as he was sacrificing, and Cassandra, too. But Electra, Agamemnon's daughter, rescued her brother, the infant Orestes, and sent him to Strophius in Phocis. Strophius had married Agamemnon's sister, Astyoche.

(disclaimer: hyginus is roman. however. we cannot say for certain he made this up lmfao. there may be something lost that he got this from. a play. a fragment. something from the epic cycle. We Don't Know. so dont come at me with 'UHHH THATS A ROMAN' - i know. but romans lived closer to the greeks than we do. they may have had access to stuff that we have now lost. okay? good.)

this does kinda hold up though. cause palamedes was wronged by his fellow greeks and aga is the leader of said greeks. so this statement does have legs.

SO LET'S SAY homer is right. there is just iphianassa, laodike and chyrso as his daughters. all alive and no iphi (like in the iliad) - why the plot to kill aga? in this timeline of events (that we know of) there is no iphi sacrifice.

THEREFORE. the spreading of a rumour that cly becomes aware of that she THEN concocts a plan to kill aga for makes sense. someone has told her about kassandra (falsely) and she's made her plan with aegisthus. THUS showing that kassandra being taken by aga for sexual purposes as a falsehood.

EXTENDING FROM THAT in Aeschylus, aga tries to get kassandra to acknowledge cly has her mistress or like cly to acknowledge she's now kass' mistress - which means she's there for cly. and that's a theme in TW too. that these trojan women are going back with greek men to serve their wives (like hecuba and penelope). ALSO. the ONLY reference made to kassandra being in aga's bed/sleeping with him etc. comes from cly. she's the only one who seems to be on that wavelength. nobody else is. aga never says it. kass never says it. only cly - she's the only one privy to the rumour. that's why.

ALSO in homer aga is killed at a feast. not in the bath. also also. kass is not killed with aga IN the bath if you wanna do the bath stuff. she is killed separately and then thrown on top of his body. they are Not bathing together. that is a modern sexualisation of the story (cause we love this shit to be sexual for some fuckin reason lmfaooo welp)

elephant in the room - euripides has kassandra make a big show of being a sexual slave to agamemnon when she leaves with him in trojan women. i've said it before, i'll say it again - euripides needs a LOT of context to be understood. he is ..... i dont wanna say projecting but i legit cant think of a better word ... about the war he is currently in.

NOW - am i saying 'aga doesnt suck cause he didn't wanna sleep with kassandra' NO. taking a poor girl from her home. killing her family. u know the spiel. is AWFUL. whether you sleep with her or not ... doesn't matter tbh. BUT it seems to be like concrete that that is what aga wanted and it's not .... that concrete, there is .... explanation for the contrary i suppose. also, people, stop making everything regarding the epic cycle about sex and sexual violence, like who are you? pat fucking barker?

#long post for ts ///#hope this made sense!!! <3333 #i always sound so fucking mean lmfao but i just cant #express myself cause im stupid #and when i say 'people dont really like it' i mean like.#people just love to make aga unnecessarily more awful than he is???#and its always sexual???#like how they just gloss over the part were he SAYS he's never slept with briseis????#that just didnt happen apparently????

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fixablebubble · 2 years ago

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Hypothetical question for you! Bastards area BIG DEAL in Westeros if you're one of the top guys and if you're a woman it's even worse. Seeing how Lady Stark handled Jon, how do you think Rhaenyra or Allicent would react when faced with a Bastard? We know they tried to keep Rhaenys from knowing about Corlys's for how she'd go murderous lol but thoughts on the other two?

Ohhhh I like this hypothetical. Let’s start with Alicent:

I don’t think Alicent loved Viserys or enjoyed being intimate with him. I think she took on the caretaker/supportive role out of duty and no other choice, not out of any love or bond with Viserys. She seems very rigid and curt with him most times, especially towards the end. I think that she would relish in the fact that his attention/affection isn’t on her so she can be left alone. Also, being a queen and generally passive/submissive to men in most scenarios, I think she would know it’s her “duty” to look the other way if her husband has any affairs and subsequent children, as queens have always done in reality and in Westeros.

Alicent is very much led by her sense of “duty” and her role as a Queen and a mother. She knows that husbands, especially kings, are not always faithful. Bastards happen, especially in male dominated societies where men can do -basically- whatever they want when it comes to their wives and extramarital affairs.

This is mind, I wouldn’t at all be surprised if she tried to prevent any bastards by giving the women “tea” if they happened to be members of court. Like “do what you want with my husband but let’s not make this a daycare.”

As much as I dislike and distrust Alicent, I don’t see her as the Cersei type because she’d have no reason to kill/go after any bastards since she knows HER children are legitimate and that’s all that matters in the end. They aren’t a threat, and it means that Viserys is getting his lovin’ somewhere else.

[I could make a separate post about how her reactions to bastards here could be reflected in Helaena as well, since she seemed totally indifferent to where Aegon was and didn’t give a single shit that they couldn’t find him. I don’t think Helaena would blink an eye at Aegon having bastards because Alicent probably 1. Told her that’s just how things are and 2. Helaena is totally fine not being around her husband for reasons I could go on a 45 minute hypothetical presentation for]

Now Rhaenyra on the other hand…

I think Rhaenyra would be hypocritical if she got upset to the point of causing a disturbance/having a huge reaction if she found out Daemon had bastards.

Rhaenyra, too, understands the role of a Queen and Wife, even if Daemon is just Prince Consort. His children wouldn’t be a threat to her legitimate ones, it would just be an issue of loyalty, which we know Daemon probably never was loyal to anyone other than himself in the end, no matter how much he may love them [I don’t mean this to say he doesn’t love/care about anyone but himself, but many of his actions are in some way fulfilling something he wants/needs. Rarely is it selfless. We’ve seen it, but it isn’t a common occurrence].

I think she’d forbid them from being at court/shown to their courtiers or acknowledged in any way, and since she’s the Queen, what she says goes. I think she’d harbor some resentment and mistrust of Daemon but I think they could somewhat recover, similar to Cat and Ned, though it would depend on how many bastards we’re talking about here (lol).

Also in the book Cat felt that she could’ve overlooked many bastards if she didn’t have to see them/if they weren’t quite literally being raised with her legitimate children. I feel Rhae would take that stance as well or at least a very similar one and make sure she wouldn’t have to see them/they wouldn’t be seen by anyone **important** to keep appearances and to keep herself sane.

I hope this is a good answer to your hypothetical! 🥰💖

#house of the dragon episode 9 spoilers #house of the dragon hbo #HOTD what if?#hotd speculation #this is just my opinion and interpretation of the characters don’t come for me #house of the dragon #george r r martin #a song of ice and fire #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #Catlin stark #ned stark #Jon snow

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years ago

Text

𝓤𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓔𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓽𝔂 (𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷)

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑖 𝑆𝑎𝑛 (𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧)× 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 (𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒)

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝑆𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝐴𝑈, 𝑉𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑛 𝐸𝑟𝑎 𝐴𝑈.

𝐼𝑛𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛: "𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒�� 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑤𝑖𝑐𝑒. 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑑𝑖𝑒, 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑: 𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒."- 𝑈𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝐸𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑦: 𝐵𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑟

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 4.4+𝐾

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑀𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑢𝑙𝑡, 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑘𝑖𝑑𝑛𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑔𝑢𝑛𝑠, 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ, 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛.

𝑇𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡: @little-precious-baby @yunhofingers @multidreams-and-desires @brie02 @deja-vux @galaxteez @yunhoiseyecandy @rvse-miingi @couchpotatoaniki @daniblogs164 @a-soft-hornytiny

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~May 17th, 1859~

When their eyes met it was as if time had effectively stopped moving. The sharply dressed male stood immobile by one of the pillars across the ballroom, feet glued to the floor and unable to pick themselves off it. Likewise, the elegant and ethereal lady sitting at one of the tables looked just as mesmerized by him as he was enchanted by her. For a while both of them just stood there, admiring one another as they tried to comprehend what was that tugging sensation they began to feel in the middle of their chests. The chatter and music in the background faded, their ears no longer registering any sound, scent, or object around them. Even their vision blurred everyone else, the only clear image they saw was the person they were currently fixated on.

As if he was in a trance, the male managed to regain his sense of control and began walking towards where she was. As their distance started to get smaller, the pounding in their hearts became more agitated and rapid, their lungs desperately trying to grasp air. When he stood right in front of her, a sense of calmness fell upon them that was even more strange to them given that they had never been acquainted with each other nor had any connections between them. Placing one arm behind him while the other came up just below his chest, he bowed to her, letting her glimpse and admire the top of his head, his hair as golden as the rays of the sun that would shine through her slightly parted curtains during the sunrises. Since she was sitting down, she acknowledged his greeting by lowering her head in a respectful manner. Coming back up, the hand that was placed behind him outstretched towards her.

"If my lady is not otherwise engaged, may I be so bold as to claim the next two dances?"

Unable to reject him, partly due to etiquette but mostly because something pushed her to accept, she smiled sweetly at him.

"You may kind Sir."

As soon as their hands connected, a rush of sparks flowed through their bodies, the feeling so electrifying and magnetic, it became more intense when he placed one arm around her waist while hers found a resting spot on his shoulder. Their other hands intertwined themselves together, their fingers perfectly molding against one another, a rather improper gesture to do at a ball especially between two individuals who had absolutely nothing to tie them together, but neither of them cared. It felt proper and necessary, even more so as their bodies glided across the floor, dancing in tune to the orchestra's music.

"I don't believe I've ever had the pleasure of seeing you before my lady." He suddenly spoke up, voice slightly buffering with nervousness.

Luckily she either didn't notice or chose not to care about it.

"No I'm afraid not. Such a pity if you ask me, you seem like a lively and agreeable person to be around." Although she had always been encouraged not to judge by outward appearances, she could not fathom the gentleman right in front of her to have any sort of evil or fault in him. He was beautiful, his features so sharp and his eyes although looking so mysterious and deadly seemed to hold so much tenderness and frailty in them. Despite his strong and bold looking frame, she could tell he was a man of delicate emotions and gentle feelings. No alarms or voice in the back of her head were warning against him, instead they were silenced as her heart urged her to stay by him and with him.

"And you seem like a lady seeking adventure and freedom." He boldly stated.

She quirked an eyebrow up, puzzled at how he could possibly ascertain such a theory.

"And may I ask what makes you say that?"

Lips curling into a smile, she swore she could melt when tiny dimples appeared on each of his cheeks, a true rare beauty that one hardly saw in those times and were very much admired.

"I look into your eyes and I see yearning, longing for something. As if you are searching for a hidden gem. And there's a hint of gloominess in them as well."

His description shocked her to the core. How could this perfect stranger, whose name she still had not known, possibly see all of that from just a few minutes of interaction?

"Do I look that forlorn?" She began to worry about anyone else being able to see what he saw.

"No...... I guess you could say I just...felt it." His eyes held a lively sparkle in them that just seemed to captivate her even more.

He hesitated to speak out what was on his mind, but seeing as the music was about to come to an end, he knew he had to say it before it was too late.

"If it's all right with you, would you mind if I came to call at your house and be introduced to your parents?" A faint pink hue spread across his cheeks and even his straight nose had a rosey tint at the tip of it.

Although she was no stranger to having young men call for her in hopes of establishing a courtship, it was the first time she was actually excited and looking forward to any future meetings with the man in front of her.

"I'd be delighted if you wished to do so." Her smile was more dazzling than all the glimmering chandeliers that decorated the ceiling and it made her dance partner feel more at ease to know she was just as jolly about a possible acquaintance as much as he was.

As soon as the music ended, they properly bowed to each other but the male, even himself unsure of what came over him, took hold of her hand and held it up to his lips, placing a feather light kiss to the tips of her fingers which left quite a few shocked faces on those who were close enough to witness the act.

"Consider this as our formal meeting my lady."

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August 23rd, 1859

The pair walked side by side across the pastured fields, bright and vivid dahlias acting as their chaperones, all arrayed in either red, yellow or purple coats that had already bud into full bloom. The river nearby had tiny ripples flowing through it due to the light breeze that was refreshing during a rather warm summer day. Behind them, her home was still bustling with excitement and anticipation of what was going to come, hence why they allowed the couple to wander outside by themselves, fully trusting them to maintain propriety. Ahead of them, a vast expanse of trees were to serve as witnesses for such a joyous occasion.

Gazing over at his loving companion whom he had learned to cherish and care about immensely in the short time they've spent together, he felt his hand shake as he touched the side of his pants, feeling the weight of the small black case he was hiding in his pocket.

"You are on edge." Her sudden statement startled him.

"Once more you hit the nail straight on the head." He chuckled, his hands going back to their previous position of staying behind him.

"Do you trust me enough to tell me about it or would you rather we pretend I didn't say anything?" She offered.

Hearing his footsteps suddenly halt, she too stopped walking. Facing over to him, she couldn't read his expression as he had lowered his face, no doubt thinking about how to proceed about with the conversation.

"May I ask......how do you feel about me?"

She was not prepared for that question and yet she had hoped to one day be asked just that. She didn't even need to think too hard, she knew the answer to that already.

"I believe you to be a very kindhearted, caring, and vibrant sort of fellow. And I am extremely grateful to be able to have you in my close circle of friends."

Although he was happy that she felt joy in his company, he felt a little saddened and worried about her use of the term 'friends'. But pushing past his fears, he gathered his courage to speak his next words.

"And have you ever wondered if there's a possibility of us becoming closer than just friends?" He looked at her with in a hopeful daze.

He could sense, feel her uneasiness. It seemed as if their emotions were so intertwined that whatever one was feeling, the other would soon get a notion of it. And right now, he could feel how she slightly panicked at his suggestion.

"If it displeases you, please just let me know right now and I swear I'll not make you uncomfortable with anymore talk of-"

"I would love for nothing more than to be more than friends with you." She didn't want to be rude and interrupt him like so, but she found she could not control herself. Her fingers fidgeted with the lace trimming of her dress, agitation clearly shown in her countenance.

"From the very first moment I saw you, I felt this strange and utterly overpowering attraction towards you, as ridiculous as it sounds. And having come to know you, I was ready to say yes the minute you asked for my hand if the moment ever came...."

She paused to collect her thoughts, taking in a deep breath.

"But at the same time I'm afraid. I know, because I was raised as such, that women are brought up to be good wives, be docile, pliant, obedient and stand behind their husbands and do what society expects of them. And I don't know if I can do that...no... I don't want that. To be locked up in some beautiful golden cage for the rest of my life, with no freedom and my liberty stripped away from me...... I'd go mad." She admitted, immediately turning away from him, not wanting to see his reaction to what some would consider her brazen speech.

"So if what you are seeking is a wife who will be content to sit at home and wait for your every command I suggest you go look somewhere else. I refuse to be that sort of woman, even if it means becoming a spinster for the rest of my life." Her last words got choked up due to tension rising in her voice as she fought back tears, not wanting to cry in front of him.

She felt him right behind her and did not flinch when one of his hands came forward to caress the smooth skin of her cheek.

"My pretty little dove....don't you know that's why I wanna marry you?"

She turned her head to look at him with incredulous eyes.

"Remember when we first met? When I talked about how you seemed to be searching for freedom? Adventure?"

She nodded, never able to forget how she felt the first time they glanced upon another nor the conversation they had. Taking a hold of her waist, he shifted her position so she could face him and see how in earnest he was.

"I'm willing to offer you all that and more. I don't want you walking behind me, I want you by my side as my equal. I won't ever lock you up in a cage. On the contrary, I want my little dove to spread her wings and soar up further than the heavens........ and I want to be by her side to see it."

Her hands came up to clasp around her mouth as she let out a sharp gasp when he suddenly dropped down on one knee. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a black velvet box that contained a stunning ring inside.

"I've already asked for your parent's permission, all I gotta ask now is if you'd make me the happiest man alive and accept to spend life by my side.... and love me?"

She allowed him to take her hand and slide the gem onto her ring finger, tears already pouring down her face. Sniffling softly, she took her hand off her mouth to reveal an emotional and awkward smile as a wave of emotions took over her.

"Yes!"

He released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Sprinting back up, he picked her up and spun her around gleefully. Once he put her down, his hands cupped her face and he leaned in to give her a passionate kiss. Even after pulling away, he still kept her at a close distance.

"I love you.....from now until eternity."

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October 9th, 1861

"You sure you're going to be ok?"

Pushing her hat out of the way so she could look down at her doting husband who was standing right next to the open carriage, she couldn't help but give him a mischievous smirk.

"I'll be fine. I should be the one asking you that."

He gave her a puzzled look.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked.

"That I give you 10 minutes before you're moping by the fireplace, missing me to no end." She snorted softly at his pouty expression.

"You're actually wrong..."

Hopping on top of the step so it could be easier to reach her, he nuzzled his nose against hers.

"I'm already missing you and you haven't even left yet."

She giggled at his cheesiness, allowing him to press a tiny kiss on her lips, which was then followed by another one, then another, until she finally had to push him off before he delayed her trip any further by peppering more kisses across her face.

"All right all right, I get it. I'll be back before supper, it's not that long of a ride to my parents house. Think you can wait until then?"

He shook his head negatively, which made her roll her eyes.

"Well you're going to have to deal with it."

Bending down, she gently stroked some of the hairs that were tussled against his forehead.

"I love you." She smiled at him.

Taking her hand to place a kiss on top of it, her husband never took his eyes off her.

"I love you too. Please stay safe."

With longing eyes, he watched as the carriage was being hauled away in the direction of the woods that surrounded the estate. He didn't look away even minutes after the carriage was out of sight, watching as some of the white flowers fell from the immense trees, petals scattering across the pavement and on the freshly cut grass. Something about the way the flowers fell sent some sort of uneasy feeling in his stomach, but he chose to ignore it, thinking it was probably nothing.

Making his way back in the house, he suddenly stopped when the same feeling crept back up to him, this time more intense than the previous one. His palms which were tightly clenched behind him, were sweating profusely. His heartbeat making more agitated and there was an unusual pounding resonated in his head, that although didn't exactly hurt, it was sending off alarms. He could sense that something bad was going to happen, he could feel it.....

With a sharp intake of breath, he raced over towards the stables where all the horses were kept. Unlocking the door that held his personal horse, he didn't even bother to saddle up or even put a bridle on him. He simply jumped up and threw his leg over the horse, who stood in place to allow his trusted master to get properly seated.

"Go!" He exclaimed as he gently yet firmly kicked the horse on its side, the stallion immediately taking off in the direction that the carriage had gone, the rider hoping and praying that he was only being delusional about the strange sensation that was striking fear in him.

Meanwhile, not far off in the distance, the young lady quietly sat in the carriage, listening to the conversation her two drivers were having amongst themselves, sometimes even laughing at any jokes they cracked along the way. She looked very peaceful, looking forward to paying her parents a small visit, the presents she had purchased for them rattled against her side, all neatly wrapped in white with light blue ribbons decorating them. Her eyes would often drift away whenever she heard the rustling sounds the tiny woodland creatures would make or when a bird would start chirping a little tune.

She was startled abruptly by the sound of gunshots and before she could even ask what was going on, she watched in horror as the two men in front of her fell to ground, blood pouring out from their heads as their soulless eyes stared back into her. The horses were going berserk, letting out loud neighs while fretting about uncontrollably. Standing up, she carefully maneuvered herself and got off the carriage hoping to hop on the driver's seat and regain control of the horses, but she was stopped when a strong hand gripped her wrist and harshly tugged her back.

"You're a really pretty thing." She stared up into the cold eyes of a marauder who scanned her face before looking at his partner.

"How much do you think they'll give us for selling her off to a whorehouse?"

His accomplice shrugged nonchalantly.

"Beats me, but I guess we're going to find out."

Not backing down without a fight, she kicked her arms and legs as much as she could, putting up an intense struggle against her kidnappers. She made sure to scream at the top of her lungs, hoping it would reach someone's ears and come aid her. She nearly freed herself when she hit one of them right in the jaw and bit harshly down on the other's arm which was draped across her neck. She could only take two steps before she was being manhandled once more. She elbowed and kneed at the man, trying to break free from his grasp. Getting frustrated and fed up by her struggle, he took out the pistol he kept by his belt.

"You fucking bitch!"

Pressing the barrel against her stomach, the bullet pierced straight through her, making her choke on the scream she was about to release. Her senses went numb, all she could feel was pain as she felt her life being stripped out of her body.

"No!"

Arriving just as the bullet was fired, her husband swiftly yanked out his own gun. First he made sure to aim at the one who had just shot his beloved wife, the bullet striking him right on his forehead, giving him an instant death. When his partner tried producing his own weapon, the rider was already two steps ahead as he shot him straight through his throat, this time the death was more painful and elongated, but eventually he too met the same fate as his dead companion. Quickly getting off the horse, he ran over to his wife, tears already brimming down his face. Taking a hold of her hand, he first made sure that she still had a pulse and was conscious.

"Love. Darling. It's ok, you'll be ok. All right? Just stay with me, keep your eyes open."

She could feel him rip off a part of her dress and use it as makeshift gauze to press against her wound in an effort to stop some of the bleeding. She could not bring herself to cry, she had no strength left in her to do that. Still she managed to bring one of her hands up to clasp one of her husband's hands.

"I love you.......I always will..." Her voice came out rather raspy and strangled.

Knowing what was happening, her husband began to cry even harder, his arms desperately clutching onto her.

"No! Don't say that my little dove! You're going to be fine! Trust me." He seemed to be saying that more to himself than her, trying to convince himself that this was not real, that it was only a nightmare that they'd get through with together.

But she had already resigned herself to her fate. Knowing she had no time left, she reached up to cup one of his cheeks, her thumb stroking his skin softly.

"Remember.....we'll meet again someday..... I loved you now....and I'll love you in another life."

With one last faint smile, she held her final breath before her head fell back, eyes closing as her spirit left her body. Her lover's body trembled erratically, eyes scrunching tightly, teeth clenched so fiercely they could nearly break apart by his sheer strength. He clung his soul mate's lifeless body against his own, sobbing violently against her neck. Looking up, he let out a heartwrenching and agonizing scream that echoed across the forest.

Part of him died that day just like the love of his life.

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~April 15th, 2019: Present Day~

"Man...that is one sad, depressing story."

One of the members of the group sighed out as his other mate read out the history behind the beautiful and seemingly enchanting forest that they were currently touring across.

"I know right? To think that such a tragic love story occurred right here." One of the taller members said, stepping carefully around the branches that were scattered about the field.

"Enough of this romantic soulmate nonsense, how long is this trail anyways? I'm tired, I'm sweating, it's hot and I'm hungry. Which one of you guys decided it was a good idea to go into nature and explore it? Especially with all these bugs around." The nagging individual slapped his arm once more, killing off another mosquito that seemed to take a liking to his blood.

While all of them continued on ahead, forming pairs or simply admiring the view alone with their phones to capture memories, the lonely member all the way in the back kept his head down. His cat like eyes often looked around, taking in some small details that hardly anyone paid attention to. Brushing some of his black bangs away from his eyes, he felt some sort of nostalgic feeling as he walked along the semi even path laid out for tourists like them. He stopped in his tracks when he came to a particular spot. Looking to his right side, he saw a very narrow off trail that led into the more dense and deep part of the forest. Although his mind told him to stay on the trail so as to not get lost, he found some strange force pulling him in the opposite direction. Without even second guessing it, he wandered off, not caring about if his group mates saw him or not.

As he past all the trees, shrubs and even the tiny squirrels and butterflies that still inhabited those regions, he couldn't shake off the deja vu feeling that fell over him. He strangely felt familiar with his surroundings, even though he was kilometers away from his home country. As he made a sharp turn to avoid hitting against a wide tree, an image suddenly flashed in his head. A galloping horse, the rider, whose face he couldn't see, passing right by where he just past.

"Weird..." He brushed it off, thinking that perhaps the rays of the sun were starting to get to him.

As he came upon a more wider path, he stopped immediately at a certain spot. Another image seemed to pass through his mind, although more blurred, he could faintly make out a silhouette of a man holding onto the body of a woman. Just as soon as it came, it soon vanished. He didn't understand why, but standing right on that spot seemed to cause him pain. Indeed he could feel tears welling up in his eyes and he had absolutely no idea why.

"God what is wrong with me?" He thought as he wiped them away, perhaps he was being extra emotional or something, especially after hearing that story about the forest.

A snapping branch made him aware that someone else was approaching where he was. Looking up in the direction, he felt his breath being taken away as two [insert color] eyes were locked on him. He couldn't even blink, he just continued to stare at the figure standing mere feet away from him. The same energy that pulled him in that direction was suddenly making him pull his feet off the ground and make their way towards the person. He had never seen them before in his entire life and yet.....

He felt as if he knew them, his heart feeling some sort of longing and aching for them. And he could sense that the other person was feeling the exact way he was, for they too were taking careful steps toward him, keeping eye contact with him. Soon they both stood right in front of each other, both had mesmerized expressions as they studied the person in front of them. Without knowing what caused him to do that, the male reached a hand out towards his partner, which she did not hesitate to hold in her own. A wave of shock ran through both of their bodies when they touched, their emotions suddenly burning with passion and love that only grew stronger as their fingers clasped against each other. Swallowing hard, the male decided it was time to speak up.

"Hi..... my name is Choi San."

The woman smiled at hearing his voice. Even though it was the first time she heard it, she knew it, it was oddly familiar.

"I'm Y/N L/N." She responded.

Neither of them flinched away, they simply continued to stare at one another. Although strangers, they felt as if they knew each other for centuries. Unable to help himself, San lowered his face so he could press his forehead against hers.

"It sounds insane..... but I feel I love you." He confessed, his lips brushing against hers.

She let out a soft hum at his statement.

"Then I guess we're both insane, because I feel like I love you as well."

Closing the gap between them, San cupped one cheek with his hand, giving her the faintest whisper of a kiss. The feeling was so raw and so endearing that it sent a warm sensation to their hearts. When they pulled away, his arm snaked around to wrap around her waist.

"It's like we were destined to be."

She chuckled at his words before finishing his sentence.

"Yes....you and I.....

Until eternity."

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288 notes · View notes

speechlessxx · 4 years ago

Text

Bring Him Light - viii (King!Steve Rogers x Reader)

Chapter Summary: If the king can disrespect his queen so openly, surely the people can, too?

Warnings: slight injury to reader, confessions, bad timing

Word Count: 3k

<- Last Part -=+=- Next Part ->

It was inevitable. The people began to lash out at you as soon as their king did. You were an outsider, the daughter of a king who waged a war against their country. They welcomed you into Brooken in hopes of a bright future and an heir for their king. And to their knowledge, you had disappointed them. So, when your husband struck you in front of his court, it opened the door to let his subjects treat you in the same manner.

In the days that took place after the party, the respect for you had dwindled. Ladies of the court who once pulled you around to chat your ear off and were all too excited to invite you to their tea parties and to their chateaus had all stopped acknowledging you when you walked into the room. You were given smug looks and side eyed stares. Their husbands, who were all eager to carry favor with the queen in doing so with the king as well, had barely spoke to you now. Before, when they grazed your shoulder with theirs, you were bombarded with apologizes, afraid that they had hurt the king by hurting you. But all that changed the moment your delicate skin was scarred by the wedding ring that symbolized your failing marriage. Now, their bumps were intentional, and they hurt – you had bruises to prove it.

You admired one of the paintings that adorned the wall of the east end of the castle. You were rarely seen outside of your chambers and when you were, you kept to yourself. The warm, welcoming Brooken was gone. And in its place stood a cold, lonely prison.

“(Y/N),” you let out a sigh when you recognized the low, hushed voice of Brock Rumlow. Ever since the party, you had spoken to four people – Wanda, Natasha, Jean the midwife, and Brock. The friendship between you and your husband’s cousin was platonic, you made it clear to the man that you had no intentions of an affair and he seemingly agreed, not wanting to further endanger you.

He glanced around to ensure that you were both alone. He wasn’t eager for any unwanted guests to listen in. Brock strode over to you with long steps until he stood next to you. Your eyes stayed glued to the giant painting. It appeared to be a portrayal of a war that Steven’s grandfather had been a part of.

“The arrangements have been made,” he whispered. You nodded. “There’s a tower opposite your bedchamber’s windows. When you see a light, know to meet at the docks the next time the moon rises. We will use the cover of the night to escort you and your ladies safely onto a ship.”

“Thank you.” You muttered. “Really.”

He reached out and gave a comforting squeeze to your arm. His fingers trailed the scarred flesh of your wrist – a reminder of another fault King Steven has done.

When the two men were young, Brock had been groomed to take the throne because Steven had been a sickly child. He remembered his aunt being told to expect the worst, so Steven’s father had taken Brock under his wing. He convinced himself that he would’ve been the perfect king. But then a “magic” doctor from a foreign land had been brought in and a few weeks later, Steven’s illnesses were gone along with the short, skinny prince. Steven grew to be broad and tall, towering over his cousin and a lot of other men. Brock was thrown to the side as Steven regained his proper place in the court.

He grew up with jealousy as he watched his cousin get everything that was meant for him. The castle, the title, the crown… Brock hadn’t been jealous of Steven’s wives. He had his own list of lovers and was very satisfied with the women whom he shared a bed with, but then your portrait was delivered by King Anthony Stark. The young, beautiful princess of York who got to be his cousin’s wife – who would’ve been his wife if he had been on the throne.

“Of course, your grace,” he nodded.

“Is there anything else?” He shook his head and mentioned he should go for the council had a meeting in a few minutes. You smiled at him before you dismissed him, wanting to be alone. He bowed before leaving.

You thought you’d be giddy, excited upon hearing the news. Lord Pierce worked quickly, contacted the Wakanda King and negotiated you and your ladies’ safe voyage. It was all falling into place. You’d be far from Brooken so that your husband and his court couldn’t hurt you anymore and far from York where your father would’ve just sent you back to your own personal hell.

But you weren’t happy. You were taking your unborn child away from its father. You were stealing away a kingdom’s heir. For what? Because you were unhappy in your marriage? Because your husband had hurt you? They were good reasons to leave. So, why weren’t you relieved?

After long minutes of silence and contemplating, you heard a tutting. With a frown, you turned around and saw one of the noblewomen, Lady Leah Nightingale, emerge from the shadows. She had been one of the women who took back her invitation to her chateau – it wasn’t as if you had any intentions of riding off to the outskirts of southern Brooken to go either way.

“Lady Leah.” You greeted with a fake smile. She had an eyebrow quirked up with a taunting expression with her arms crossed.

“You’re a whore.” She said. Your smile immediately dropped. “I didn’t want to listen to the rumors about you and Lord Rumlow, yet here I am… Did I intrude? The moment seemed rather intimate.”

“I believe you are mistaken, Lady Leah.” You nodded. You walked past her and towards the staircase behind her when she grabbed your arm and whipped you around.

“The king will have your head for your infidelity.” She said. “Then, any lady of the court gets another chance at being queen. That crown,” she snatched the dainty York tiara off your head, “belongs to me.”

“That is my mother’s.” You seethed as you reached over and tried to grab it from her hands. It became a tug of war.

You found it ridiculous, fighting over a headpiece. Your husband had gifted you hundreds of jewels and crowns that were stashed away. You could’ve easily exchanged it for something more extravagant or expensive, but Brooken had already stolen so much from you.

She pulled so hard away from you that the crown had slipped from both your hands. It clattered against the hard floors, the aged metal splitting in half. You gasped with wide, teary eyes. Lady Leah gave you a smirk.

“It’s all yours, your majesty,” she mocked. “It was cheap like your mother… and like you.”

You glared at her, feeling all the pent-up rage bubbling to the surface. You trembled with anger, unsure of how to exert such negativity. You weren’t sure whether to lunge at her and tear the stupid dangly earrings from her ears or scream until your lungs gave out.

“Queen Margaret had more grace than you and she was older than the king. Queen Sharon was more beautiful and kind. You little York bitch thought you were too good for the rest of us. Too good for the king?” She scoffed. “No wonder he grew tired of you. Hell, I wanted to slap you the second you stepped out the carriage. I can’t wait until he kills you.” You felt your breath shudder and the tears fall from your eyes. “In fact… I’ll go ahead and do it for him.”

You frowned with confusion but quickly let out a gasp when her hands reached out and pushed your shoulders hard. You lost your balance. Your foot missed a step as you tumbled down the stairs.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The five men sat around the wooden table, the king at the head. He drummed his fingers along the wood, the rhythm helped calm him.

It had been a week since the party – since he had slapped you as if you were just a defiant servant. He felt awful the moment it happened. You had a horrified look on your face as you stared at him as if he truly were a monster with fangs, horns, and all. He felt like he was one.

After the party ended, he saw an upset Strucker to his guest chambers before nearly running to your shared bedchamber with thousands of apologizes raging on inside his mind. He had intended to kiss the cut until it healed and hold you like he did in the first few months of your marriage. But you weren’t there. So, he sat at the foot of the bed and awaited your return. He stayed up all night long, but eventually collapsed hours after the sun rose.

He hoped to waken with you curled up beside his body, but he woke up to not-so-quiet servants who were briskly removing your things from the chamber. He pulled one girl aside and questioned her. She revealed that you wished to stay in your old chambers from now on.

He thought that this was perhaps a way of punishing him, so he allowed himself to be punished. He deserved it. He knew he should not have struck you – whether it happened privately or in front of a crowd, he knew he should not have laid his hands on you in that way.

He thought that you would return in a few short days and allow him to apologize for his wrongdoing. He hoped that there was still a chance at that happiness he promised you.

But days had turned into a week and you never returned.

And it hurt him.

Lord Pierce was droning on about the absence of grain. In the past year, Baron Strucker had been holding out on the essential good. He had been giving Brooken a fraction of what he used to. So, Steven invited him to court in hopes to coax out more of the grain so that his people could eat. But with your outburst and Wanda’s rejection, the Duke became angry. Now, he was refusing to ship grain, feeding the king excuses about a wildfire and insects that ravaged his lands.

“Is there anything we can do?” He asked. “Perhaps, reach out to any allies?”

“York.” Lord Rumlow suggested. “Although with the situation at hand, I doubt the queen would be willing to ask her father to help you.” The words were meant to be a jab at the king. Steven knew. His cousin was always poking and looking for a fight.

Before the king could respond, someone burst through the doors. It was a wide-eyed Natasha rushed through the doors. Panic written all over her features. “Your grace, my lords,” she bowed, panting slightly.

“Nat?” Lord James asked, rising from his seat. “What’s happened?”

“The queen…” she said, breathless. “The queen…”

“Out with it!” Brock snapped, jumping up from his seat and walked over to the woman, grabbing her arms and shaking her slightly. James had told him to unhand her.

“The queen was pushed down the stairs by Lady Leah Nightingale… Or at least that’s what the witness had said,” Natasha explained after regaining her breath. “She’s in the infirmary.”

Steven felt the color drain from his face as he shot up and rushed past her and out the room. He heard the lady’s heels clatter against the tiles as she followed him. The sound was accompanied by heavy footsteps, that undoubtedly belonged to the other lords of his council.

As he approached the doors, he noticed a midwife – he believed her name was Jean or Joan, or something along the lines of that – walking the opposite direction in quick, rushed steps. He dismissed it before bursting through the double doors.

The doctor, Stephen Strange, who was visiting from York, had been looming over you. Lady Wanda sitting at your bedside. “King Steven,” he greeted with a nod.

“Strange.” Steven responded. He glanced over to the men behind him and asked for everyone but the doctor to be dismissed. The two ladies glared at him – he didn’t miss the way his cousin did, too. “Must I repeat myself?”

“I will not leave you with her.” It was Wanda, the shy, meek auburn-haired girl, who spoke up. She had rarely been defiant or outspoken in the ways you and Natasha were. She had always smiled and nodded, but now, she scowled at the king with her brows knitted together and venom dripping from her words.

The king sighed, placing a hand on his hip. “Please,” he asked with a lower voice. It was as if he were begging. The two women stood as they were as if to say we don’t take orders from you. “Fine. Stay.”

Steven walked closer towards you. You looked so peaceful – asleep with your head turned to the side slightly and a hand over your stomach, which protruded in the slightest bit but was still unnoticeable beneath your gown. The scar left a scabbed line on your cheekbone. He hadn’t realized how shallow the cut was.

“Is she okay?” He finally asked. “And I apologize that I hadn’t been there to welcome you to Brooken, Stephen.”

“I’m only here because her father asked me to come check on her. I am her godfather after all.” Stephen lied. Though, truthfully, he was your godfather. “She’s only sleeping for now, your grace. No true injury. The ba – “he stopped talking when he saw Wanda shake her head over the king’s shoulder. He was a smart man. He knew not to overstep. “She’ll make a quick recovery and be on her feet in a day, if not, less.”

“If she doesn’t wake?”

“Don’t be so pessimistic. She will wake. I assure you.” Stephen said, confidently. He wasn’t here for your father’s bidding. He was here to inform you of your brother’s worsening condition. He believed that you had a right to know and say your farewells, but he realized that perhaps you had other pressing matters to deal with. “I suggest you get your court in order. If word reaches York about the treatment of their princess, there will be another war… And King Anthony will be twice as ruthless as he was during the first.”

Steven nodded. His eyes glued to your unconscious body. It was his fault that his people – your people, too – had been so cruel to you in the past week. Thankfully, you weren’t badly hurt in this incident, but what of the next? What happens when his own citizens become bold enough to have a true attempt at your life? It would still be your blood on his hands because he allowed this to happen.

“Let’s leave the king, shall we ladies?” Stephen asked. Although slightly wary and defiant, the two women reluctantly agreed. He listened to their receding footsteps and the door close behind them.

Steven brushed your hair gently with his fingers. He pressed his lips to your temple and to the cut before placing a chaste kiss to your lips. You head had turned, but you were still sound asleep.

“I don’t know if you’re listening. I hope you are.” Steven whispered, clutching the hand that laid to your side. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry for striking you, for allowing people to disrespect you so openly. I’m sorry for calling you a whore queen, for frightening you. I… There are so many wrongdoings, so many faults. I told you before I wanted us to be happy. I wanted our future to be happy. And I failed you. I want to do better by you, to be the man that you deserve, I truly do…

“But there are things going on in this kingdom that you do not know about… I pray that you do not. My cousin and Lord Pierce are plotting against me. I know it. I want to trust you, (Y/N). I do. I want to tell you of my plans to weed out everyone who dares go against us, but I see them looming over you. I see Brock whispering into your ear. I can’t help but wonder if you will betray me like Margaret? Like Sharon? I’ve been married twice before you and I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and it scares me because the only love I’ve known ends in betrayal. And if you betray me, I will not know how to recover.”

You were beginning to stir awake. Your eyes were fluttering open, wincing at the light. You felt a pressure in your head, a warmth radiating to your side. His words were muffled. You didn’t register anything he said. Not even when Steven whispered,

“I love you, (Y/N).”

Outside the infirmary doors, the lords had eventually dispersed. Wanda and Stephen had walked off, whispering about the secret baby that only you, your ladies, Jean, and now your godfather knew about. Rumlow and Pierce rushed off, whispering to one another about their plots. Only James and Natasha had stayed behind, standing against the wall across the door.

“Buck?” Natasha whispered. She surveyed the hallway. They were completely alone. Not a servant in sight. He hummed in response. “I have something to tell you.”

“About what?”

“I’m telling you because I trust you and because I do not trust Lord Rumlow.”

»»————-　⚜　————-««

You were eventually moved back to your chambers – the one separate from the king’s. You were still a bit dizzy from the incident, but you were assured you’d be fine. Jean had come by discreetly and checked up on you. She assured you that the baby wasn’t harmed and that the fall wasn’t too harsh that it could’ve caused any damage. Your godfather had also promised that you’d recover.

It became clear that Brooken did not want you here. You were in danger. Your child hadn’t been born yet, and it was in danger, too.

And like a flame that ignited in the window of the tower across from your chambers, a new hope burned through you. The signal. The confirmation.

You rubbed your slightly protruded stomach anxiously. The next night you were leaving Steven and Brooken. Forever.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #king!steve rogers #king!steve rogers x reader #king!steve rogers imagine #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america #royalty au #marvel au #marvel royalty

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coeurdastronaute · 4 years ago

Text

The Story, Ch. 1

I am going to tell a story.

It is not a marvelous story, nor is it very heroic, nor ghastly, nor mysterious, nor epic by any Ovidian means. It’s much more simply just a real story, perhaps a true story in that it could very much happen, but hasn’t, exactly, to the best of my knowledge.

I’d rather like to use the word true in the sense that it is universal, innate, honest to very idea that all humanity is capable of experiencing it. It’s true and honest and real, and that might not sound like magic, but if we’re being honest, as most storytellers are known to be, the most magic that can be found is in the moments we can’t tell about-- the moments stricken from pages for being mundane, superfluous from the plot, as if it’s possible to decide so easily what matters, and what doesn’t, as if memory and life are easy enough to foresee to know that a single moment won’t resonate indiscriminately through time and space, etching deep ridges and valleys and canyons into a person’s heart.

I am going to tell a story that is superfluous from the plot, that’s not very heroic nor ghastly nor mysterious nor epic, and yet one that is full of bravery and ghosts and fear and perseverance.

No one will tell you what I want to tell you, that it is impossible to truly understand that depth of the pain that life will haphazardly, and often lazily, often with abandon, toss upon you. I need you to understand this, because once you do, you can survive it, and if you survive it, you can fill in the spaces, the inbetween, the pauses and inhalations and dark, dark, deep and dangerous moments with perhaps a dash of love.

I am going to tell a story that is true and honest, I am going to trip over my words because I believe in being exact, and perhaps precision is muddled by searching for perfection. I will not tell you what I hope you take from it, for that would defeat the need to finish it, but rather I shall tell you the how. I hope you read this and forget the words, or at least think you have until one day when you understand them more than you do when you read it.

This tale has no more ghosts than the normal amount. It has no more pain, no more love, no more jealousy, nor anguish, nor magic than the average truth would. This is the warning.

I am going to tell a story, now.

XXXXXXXXXX

In the summer of her twelfth year, the fair came to town. She remembered it especially because it was not the same as the festivals that came with such regularity it was practically ingrained in her DNA, and much like sparrows, the town just went to work of returning to every year. No, the fair that came to town was different. It was not of them, but for them.

To be honest, she hadn’t thought of it much since it happened, as time wiped away the newness of it, replacing it with the present and the not-too-distant.

Later, she would come to remember that as the year before the end of it all. With the perfect hindsight she realized had she just listened, she might have heard it, as an adult she could practically hear the knowledge that something was indeed almost over, the knowledge that hummed, faint and lazy below the noises of the house and the town and the summer evening, the sound Jamie heard when she tossed and turned in the stale, sticky heat of her bed when the breeze was no where to be found.

Gawky and just becoming aware of her body, she remembered the look she gave herself in the fun house mirrors. The one that stretched her legs, all knees and knobby, the whole way up to her chin. The one that made her hips jut out and when she bent over, that made her chin and nose and ears disproportional, or more so than she already knew them to be. But her little brother didn’t mind at all, laughing at how ridiculous he looked, and then at her until she punched him in the arm, earning a wail of pain.

With change scrounged and stolen from pockets, she bought their first taste of cotton candy. They snuck onto the rides and rode until they threw up behind the animal tent. For hours and hours and hours, for what felt like days, they roamed the fair in a type of delirium, removed from the ordinary, escaping, as it were.

But that night was forever tinged a different hue than pink cotton candy and a burning sky where the sun refused to set. It wasn’t even stained black like her father’s hands, nor did it reek of gin or shine on her mother’s breath.

Alone and indignant, she wandered through the tents and shoddy booths after rinsing her mouth with water from a bucket hanging near the horses. Her brothers were done, tapped out of money and eager to hold onto anything left in their stomachs, but Jamie didn’t want to leave. She never wanted to go home again.

Forgotten was the looks she gave herself, unable to table the mess of frizz on her head, unable to comprehend the knobby knees and perpetual layer of dirt accumulated on her clothes and cheeks. Forgotten was the music of her brother’s laughter, shrieks, and crying accompanied by the splashing of guts against the compacted dirt mixed with the smell of the animals. Lost to time were those moments unless they were dug for, rooted up and yanked back into tangibility with a great deal of effort.

What remained of that night was the sheer terror of the tent with the black curtains. The tent on the edge of the fair, that Jamie stumbled upon, as young women stumbled out of, afraid and clutching different bundles of herbs or totems. The tent under the smooth-leafed elm near the broken fence, list solely by candles and a fire that never seemed to grow higher than flickering.

What Jamie remembered was the large velvet chair and the ancient lace that covered the tables. She could smell, from time to time, the old, moldy dried herbs and flowers that were packed and chopped right there.

And for some inexplicable reason, she slid across her last five pence piece and waited for the woman to take it. And when she presented her palm, dirty, with moon shaped divots where her fingernails had dug into to find some steel against the appraising eyes, she clenched her jaw, almost defiant, and waited.

Kindly, the woman smiled, prepared to believe in her own magic for a moment for this brave little girl. While she made her money selling potions to unhappy wives and bundles of herbs and totems for pregnancy and wealth, she refused to use her gifts unless called upon. As inexplicable as it was to Jamie, so too did this woman not understand what made her cradle the small palm in her hand for a tenth of her normal fee.

Occasionally, as if a slowly moving echo, Jamie would hear her words, or rather bursts of them, phrases really, bouncing back to her from that moment. The older she got, the less she listened enough to hear them, though they kept moving forward toward her at a steady pace.

With kind eyes, she remembered, a softening of features, the woman across the table tenderly traced the lines in her palm, something Jamie would do from time to time in the years to come, as if she, too, could see something important.

With a heavy heart, the palm-reader shook her head and kissed Jamie’s palm. I am so sorry, my love. It is not fair.

As much as she wanted to snatch her hand back, Jamie remained still and listened to the entirety of the woman’s words. She allowed her to rub an oil onto them, to write with burnt twigs, tiny symbols on her wrist, to hum a tune and press the coin back into her hand.

Only much later would Jamie realize it was a kindness, to understand someone’s future and be unable to do anything about it, but to try anyway.

But the great pain, the great sadness, the great joy, the great everything that the woman promised, Jamie refused to acknowledge ever again. She avoided those echoes and she didn’t stop running. That was how she was going to survive it.

And as the woman pulled out a knife and sliced a gash in Jamie’s palm, as she muttered the words, as Jamie recoiled in pain, pushing back the chair and frantically looking for the exit, she saw the flames growing higher, she felt the woman corner her as she scuttled across the floor, the dirt and the discarded stems of her herbs searing the cut, leaving a trail of blood there. She fled beneath the tent flap, crawling and tripping over herself until she was home, safely in her room behind a closed door.

She pressed the gash on her palm to her chest as blood warmed her shirt.

She never spoke of it again.

For some reason, the fair that came to town the summer she turned twelve came alive in her mind once again, the moment she walked into the kitchen and saw a new face at the table. It was instantaneous, the appearance of that memory. All-encompassing were the noises and smells and terror in her heart.

In a move that would look, to anyone else, as if she were merely wiping the dirt from her hands, fighting against a stubborn smudge, she ran her thumb along the perfectly straight but raised scar through the middle of her palm.

But she washed her hands and ignored the momentary echo before sitting down at the table, forgetting it all once again.

XXXXXXXXX

With a great start, the new au pair’s eyes burst open as she inhaled a shaky breath, as if she’d been holding it for hours and was finally able to defeat whatever had been sitting on her chest, choking her through the night.

It took a full minute for her sense to come back, for her to understand where she was, to chase away the remnants of the dream that seemed to repeat itself nightly despite her best efforts to escape it.

Slowly, and with great effort, Dani focused on the sound of the birds just outside her window in the copper beeches that towered alongside the manor. Outside, the waking of the manor and the grounds were becoming regular and soothing, reminding her in their foreignness that she was not home anymore.

It was still early as she climbed out of bed, the thin fabric of her sleeping gown clung to her skin as the heat and her dreams had won against the coolness of the lovely breeze during the night. She stood by the large window with the heavy, ancient glass and peered out onto the lawn as the haze did its best to burn itself away in the rising of the day.

Three weeks ago, she’d answered the ad that took her out of London and deep into the countryside so that even in an atlas, she was somewhat unsure of how to get back if she were have the need to escape, which was simultaneously terrifying and freeing.

Even after a full week of waking in a lovely English manor, Dani hadn’t grown too used to the feeling of peace she experienced despite the dreams, as if waking was a better time than sleeping, as if she was living a dream, even, and her dreams were the reality she resigned herself to at night, forever haunted.

Before the children could wake, Dani washed and dressed, taking a little bit of time every morning to explore the expansive house and grounds. The tragedy of the entire home softened slightly in the beauty it still had, and the hope the children still, despite all else, seemed to cling to against all odds.

Walking helped clear her head, helped to shed away the old skin, like a snake rubbing against rocks, wiggling out of old skin that it’d outgrown, though she felt it was more forced than that for her, that perhaps the skin she was in wasn’t ready to be shed, and despite her best clawing and scratching and wiggling and rubbing was struggling to pull it off. The past was a sweater that shrunk in the wash and now she couldn’t escape it despite contorting herself into all different positions and yanking.

So instead, Dani walked in the morning.

Sometimes she beat Owen, who arrived early with arms full of fresh things to cook for the day. Sometimes she would slip out through the back and he wouldn’t have arrived yet, or she would hear the sound of his tires on the gravel as she turned the corner away from the house.

A few times, she even beat Hannah, up before the housekeeper had made it to the kitchen, though Dani suspected Hannah rarely slept, and was instead simply elsewhere.

Only twice had Dani seen the gardener, and with grounds that she was still discovering, she doubted their orbits would often overlap. They’d never formally met, but it seemed only a matter of time with such few options for adult conversation in the manor.

On her walks, Dani didn’t let her mind wonder too far from the course of action for the day, plotting how to keep two active and unpredictable children busy taking up much of her energy and leaving her exhausted every night in a way that made her hopeful for rest. She thought slowly, taking her time, careful not to let those thoughts drift, steering the ship purposefully.

More and more, she was allowing herself to relax at the manor, to shirk off some of the guilt and the pain of her previous life that existed just a few months ago. There was a healing that could be found in a departure. There was a kind of reward in giving up. A ghost still followed her, still reminded her. How simple the act of forgetting seemed to be, except when it truly mattered. It baffled her, that she couldn’t remember what Eddie’s particular brand of toothpaste was called, but a random whiff of something close to his cologne strangled her entirely.

Memory was cruel in that way, stealing away anything good, and leaving the worst of it. Those dark thoughts stained the countertops of her mind, the ring of week-old coffee that refused to be wiped clean and seemed to dismiss all notions of fading.

The loss was too much to hold, sometimes. He followed her around everywhere despite her departure from the routine

Maybe if she stayed here, stayed at Bly and got used to it, the familiarity would wipe away the dust and dark. Dani was determined to start new, to begin again. That was the only thing to do after such a thing.

“Oi, watch where you’re walking!”

The voice startled the absent au pair as she jumped away from whatever she’d apparently been walking on.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-- I don’t see where I…”

“You almost went knee-deep into my fertilizer, and my Delphiniums have been quite eager for that. I’d hate to make them cross so early in the summer.”

The lilt of her tone bordered on teasing, but Dani was almost certain there was some honesty there, as if the gardener really did worry about the moods of her plants and of the garden as a whole.She quite liked the pleasing way the gardener’s mouth moved, cocked up at one corner in an oddly shy grin, and she quite liked the pleasing way the hardness of consonants were mulled over and softened.

In just that moment, Dani realized she was missing some gentleness, and how shocking it was to find it in the sticky heat of the countryside morning.

“I’m sorry,” Dani offered weakly, looking around and finally seeing the pile of compost and fertilizer waiting to be dispersed throughout the day. “I hadn’t-- I was a little lost there, I guess.”

“Try not to get too lost, Poppins. We need someone to wrangle those two heathens, and I have my hands full.”

“Delphiniums are notoriously ornery.”

They shared a smile and Dani looked over the gardener, mud already appearing on her bare shoulder while her overalls had pockets full and gloves hung near her hip and a patch sewed on one side of a thigh. The messy mop of curls was somewhat tamed in a bandana, and even without make up, her lips seemed impossibly red, like strawberries.

“If you think they’re bad, you should hear how my peonies have been acting out. Don’t even get me started on my deutzias, who are normally so well-behaved.”

As she rambled, Dani thought about how nice it was, to hear someone talk about something that they clearly loved. She couldn’t help but smile, which made the gardener slow down and end her explanation earlier than either would have liked.

“I should let you get back to your walk. You looked like you were going somewhere important, with purpose.”

“Oh, yeah, I was… not really. Just clearing my head.”

“That can be tricky,” Jamie nodded.

“Thank you for saving me.”

“It’s my pleasure. I kind of prowl about all day waiting to save beautiful damsels. It’s part of my charm.”

“I’d work on the delivery,” Dani teased, taking a few steps back as she realized it was late enough for the manor to be waking.

“Never been my strong suit,” Jamie shrugged it off. “How was the follow through?”

“I’d give it a solid B-.”

“Tough marker, you are. I feel for those little ones already.”

“Practice makes perfect, Ms. Hawthorne.Can’t disappoint those damsels.”

“I’d never want to do that.”

With a rakish grin, Jamie nodded a farewell to the au pair, and Dani returned it with a small wave over her shoulder.

The realization that the gardener had called the au pair beautiful was met simultaneously by both members of the previous conversation. Dani was nearly rounding the corner as she replayed it all in her head, stopping suddenly at that detail while Jamie was furrowed and pulling on her gloves, meeting at the same point. Both looked up at each other when it happened and from across the lawn, looked away quickly.

As swift as her legs would carry her, Dani retreated into the routine of the day, refusing to think of gardeners or Delphiniums.

#bly manor #dani x jamie

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babbushka · 4 years ago

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First Glimpse, Last Looks

007!Reader x Bond Villain!Kylo Ren

3.7k ; N S F W (casual sex/one night stand with a stranger, praise kink, mirror sex), teasing and playful banter, shameless flirtation, hidden identity

--------------

You smile at your reflection in the hotel mirror, all dolled up for a night downstairs.

You look good, damn good, if you do say so yourself. Your thigh holster is well concealed by the evening gown, the knife in the back of your heel looks like a pretty decorative element no one would suspect. And no one should suspect it, there’s not supposed to be any trouble tonight.

Well, you think as you apply lipstick in your favorite shade, aside from one man, the man you were sent here to study.

His name is Kylo Ren, a moniker if you’ve ever heard one. One of the most dangerous criminals in the entire world, and certainly one of the richest. It’s no wonder that you’re to find him here, at one of the world’s most famous casinos. It seems that the best only liked to be with the best, not that you minded. As far as missions went, you were glad to be whisked off to exotic places and put up in the nicest hotel rooms.

You leave said nice hotel room now, saying goodbye to the panorama views and big soft bed for the time being. Surveillance is the name of the game for the evening, and you’re given free reign from M to enjoy yourself. You’ve got to blend in after all, have to be unsuspecting. That shouldn’t be too hard, you think as you make your way down to the casino, your heels clicking pleasantly on the polished marble flooring, your dress accentuating your body beautifully.

The casino is a high end place, there’s a live band playing smooth jazz up on a little stage, and everyone around you is dressed to the nines, which you’re pleased to see. Pleased because at least it means this criminal has good taste, refined taste. But then again, how could a renowned jewelry designer not be dripping in luxury?

You walk around the casino, blinking away the cigarette and cigar smoke which wafts up from the tables as rich men entertain pretty women with games of craps. You can’t help but smile at the winners and feel poorly for the poor suckers who lose, but that’s the way the money rolls, isn’t it. And what money too – bets starting at ten thousand dollars and only ever climbing, you’re impressed.

You’ve got a good chunk of chips yourself, provided so that you might infiltrate the place a little better, but you’re not in the mood to make a spectacle of yourself, not tonight anyway. Mr. Ren’s reservation was supposedly lasting through the weekend, and as it’s only Friday night, you’re sure that you’ll be here for a little while.

Speaking of Mr. Ren, you begin subtly trying to pick him out from the crowd. You know he’s a big spender, a high roller, he’s always got to have attention on him, eyes on him. Unusual, for someone under suspicion of smuggling gold across foreign soil, but then again, not at all. You’d been given the brief on what he looks like, but unfortunately there are no photographs of him – they all seem to magically disappear from any and all databases. All you know is that he’s hulking, tall and wide and has a twisted mangled facial deformity – shouldn’t be too difficult to spot, you smile to yourself.

You make a little show of weaving through all the people, down towards a beautiful bar in art deco style. It’s the perfect vantage point for all the tables, and you strike up a cigarette to pass the time.

“Can I get you anything, ma’am?” The bartender asks as he wipes down an impeccably clean glass.

“No thank you, I’m meeting someone here.” You say easily, and the bartender smiles in understanding.

“If you change your mind, just give me a nod.” He says, going on his way, off to deal with another customer.

You flick your ash in the crystal dish nearby on the bar counter and simply watch, enjoying the spectacle of it all – when you can’t help but hear the gentle applause coming from one of the cards tables. It seems that someone has just won a game of baccarat, which you find impressive, for the game is notoriously high stakes and oh how the dealers hate to lose.

You cast your gaze over to the gentleman who is quietly yet absolutely pleased as he pulls all the chips over to his pile, as if the money means nothing to him. You’re sure it probably doesn’t, if he’s playing and betting baccarat to begin with.

But what strikes you more than anything else, is how handsome the gentleman is. He’s got glossy black hair and proud shoulders, wrapped in a deliciously tailored tuxedo. You’re pretty sure that’s a rolex on his wrist, and while all that is well and good, you’re drawn to the irregularity of his facial features. His nose seems to be a bit too large for his face, but it’s in an endearing way, a way that you can see yourself playfully touching with the tip of your finger before asking for a kiss.

What a dangerous thought.

Even more dangerous, is that he’s looking right at you, giving you a smile. There are worse men to find you attractive, you think, as you turn away from him and give your neck a little stretch, flick your ash, knowing that he’ll take the hint and come over. M did say to have fun, didn’t she?

You feel his presence before anything else, the way he smells so wonderfully of a spiced cologne – not too much, just the right amount to get you interested. He’s warm, radiates a warmth that’s got you wondering how good it must feel to be tucked up against him.

“I couldn’t help but notice you all alone.” His voice is deep, a rich baritone that you feel down in your bones as you seductively look over your shoulder, cigarette delicately held between your fingers.

“You couldn’t? Seems like everyone else could.” You raise an eyebrow, and he smiles. It’s more of a half smirk than anything else, but you’re hung up on his dimples, on how he’s got the most darling beauty marks all across his face, a little constellation of freckles.

“Pity for them.” He leans up against the bar top, and you turn towards him, an invitation. He takes it. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“You can buy me two.” You reply, and he smiles wider at that, at the way you’re allowing him in. He’s so handsome, you think that if this Kylo Ren won’t show up tonight, at least you can still make the effort to look nice worthwhile.

“What do you like?” The charming man asks, signaling for the bartender to come back over.

“I’m not picky, as long as it’s in a martini glass.” You wink, and the man chuckles.

“Two vesper martinis please.” He asks of the bartender, who immediately sets to work.

“Shaken, not stirred.” You say, giving the bartender a kind smile when they nod in acknowledgement.

“I love a woman who’s particular.” The man doesn’t sit down next to you, instead he’s got one long leg crossed over the other as he leans against the counter, striking up a cigarette of his own. There’s something awfully delicious about the way it looks between his plush lips, and you’re drawn to them, to the way he flicks the match and lights it with ease.

“Really? That’s quite a modern attitude.” You tease. It’s 1964 after all, too many men are busy hating their wives, living out some white picket dream that you never had any time for.

“I’ll have you know, I’m a very modern man.” He smirks with a wink of his own, and you have to look down and away, lest you start getting too obvious too fast. You’re obvious of course, but you want to seem a little aloof, want to keep him interested.

“I believe congratulations are in order, I saw you win back there.” You say, fiddling with the little napkin that the bartender lays out before you while the drinks are nearly finished.

“Oh that? It was nothing, the game’s easy, it’s all just odds and good luck, like anything else.” He shrugs, and you smirk right back at him, he’s good at this.

“Do you think you have good luck?” You ask, as the bartender places the martini glasses in front of you.

“I think I’m about to find out.” The man picks up one glass and hands it to you, takes the second one all for himself, and it’s your turn to let out a pleased little laugh, happy for the opportunity to flirt.

“Very smooth, Mr. Modern.” You concede, “Very smooth.”

“Well, I like to do some things the old-fashioned way.” The man is particularly chuffed that he’s managed to impress you – and he should, you didn’t get impressed by many men. He licks his lips and holds up his drink, preparing a toast. “You’re stunning.”

“I know.” You say, and he laughs at that, making you duck your head once again before winking, “You’re quite the looker yourself. To good luck?”

“To good luck.” He clinks his glass gently against yours, and the two of you take a sip.

The martini is pleasant in your mouth, although you have no real plans to drink enough that you might become impaired in any sense of the word. You spare a glance around the room once again for Kylo Ren, for the big hulking criminal you’re supposed to be there for, and you can’t help but let out a disappointed sigh. You knew there was an off chance he wouldn’t be at the casino tonight, possibly off at a business dinner or something along those lines, but still.

“You know, I was supposed to meet someone here, but it would seem as though they haven’t shown up.” You tell this man who’s very very gently skimming his knuckles against the back of your arm. You’re happy to see no sign of a wedding ring, and no tan-line for one either.

“How anyone could leave a woman like you out to dry is beyond me.” He says, and for a minute, you can’t help but believe that this is something more than just a flirtation for a one-night stand, that perhaps you two could really get to know each other.

“And just what kind of woman do you think I am?” You ask playfully, already having made up your mind to sleep with him. Attachments were not something afforded in your line of work, you know this, but at least bodily pleasure was available where you could take it.

“I don’t know, but I would sure love to find out, if you’d let me.” The man chews the inside of his cheek for a moment, a nervous habit that you find quite endearing, before asking softly, “I’ve got a suite at the hotel just across the way, spectacular views, even better food. Would you care to accompany me for any or all of it?”

“I’m starving.” You reply, and a hopeful smile lights up his face.

The moment the door to the hotel room closes behind you, you’re kissing. He’s so skilled, so good at it, you can’t help but gasp under his touch. His palms are warm and they span across your back with ease, already working at undoing your dress zipper. You suddenly remember your gun that’s strapped to your thigh, and you pull away from him for a minute, looking at his handsomely disheveled state in the low light of his suite.

“Do you have a condom?” You ask outright, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“Shit, no, I don’t – I must confess this isn’t something I do often. Or at all.” He’s nervous, and you can’t help but feel warm towards him, affection as you card through his locks. They’re every bit as silken as they look, and you kiss him again.

“That’s quite alright, call down for some.” You say.

He eagerly goes over to the phone, and while he’s distracted you take the opportunity to slip the small gun into your clutch purse, the perfect size for such a thing. He’s not gone for long, and you’re pleased to hear that when he asks for the condoms, he requests the largest size they carry.

“They’ll be up soon, but in the meantime, is it alright if I kiss you? You know, I’m a right sucker for lipstick prints.” The man blushes beautifully when he returns. Your hands immediately work on getting him out of his tuxedo, and he helps you out of your dress, admires the way your lingerie hugs your body.

“You’re much gentler than I thought you’d be, with hands so big as these.” You say as he carefully carefully carefully unhooks your bra, hands cradling your breasts.

“If you like it rough, I’d be more than happy to oblige.” He gives you an experimental pinch, and you huff out a laugh, slinking your arms around his neck.

“Kiss me first and we’ll see where the night takes us.” You say as you stand up on your tip toes now that your heels are kicked off, pressing your lips against his.

It’s not long before someone is knocking at the door with the condoms, and then it’s as if the gates have been opened. The man scoops you up into your arms and you laugh all the way over to the bed, where he plops you down sweetly, climbs over you and rolls the rubber onto his hard cock.

The largest size looks like it just barely fits him, and your mouth waters as he kisses you, hands caressing your body, peeling away your stockings, the garter. He doesn’t suspect anything, he only kisses the inside of your thigh, and your hands grasp at the silken sheets in anticipation.

“Are you sure?” He looks up at you from between your legs and you nod, one hand grabbing at his shoulders and pulling him back up your body, wanting that cock in you.

“Please, I just know you can make me feel good.” You nod again and again, until he’s positioning himself right at your entrance and thrusting slowly so that your pussy can accommodate and stretch to his girth.

He groans out softly in your ear and thrusts a little further in, again and again until he’s sinking all the way into your cunt, cock huge and filling you up better than anyone you’ve ever slept with.

“Ah – yes!” You sigh out happily as he kisses at your neck where his face is shoved against your throat, “Oh yes, that’s it.”

There’s a mirror on the ceiling, and you moan at the way his body moves above you as he begins to build up a proper rhythm, a steady pace that has your legs winding around his hips.

You wish you knew his name so you’d know what to call out, but names were dangerous, and so was sentiment, and it was easier this way, easier to just have great sex and move on, leave him always thinking about you and your pussy.

You roll him over onto his back, the both of you grinning as you straddle his lap. Your hands brace themselves on his huge chest, muscular but not in that dehydrated body builder kind of way, and you bounce on his cock, give him a good ride.

“Oh god – god damn.” He breathes out, his hands coming to grope up at your breasts, sliding across your stomach and bruising your hips.

“Your cock feels so fucking good.” You admit, because it does, and that does wonders to his ego, “Fuck! Oh – oh yes, yes yes yes!”

He bends his knees to plant his feet on the mattress and he bucks his hips up into you, thick cock so hard and long, so wide, you can feel the way it nudges against your cervix, can feel the way it teases your gspot with every thrust. You’re drunk off the feel of it, your head falls back and your jaw drops open, just from the sheer fullness of it all.

“Ah – ah come on, come on faster, I can – ohhhh shit – I can take it.” You lick your lips as he rolls your nipples between his fingers, and he listens, follows directions beautifully, does as he’s told and you can’t help but drop, “Good boy, oh you’re so good.”

The praise seems to do something for him, and suddenly you’re being fucked in earnest, riding him and getting as good as you give him. Your pussy drools and drips all over his cock, you can feel the white hot bubble of pleasure as it rises up from your cunt into your stomach, up up up your spine in a way that’s got you moaning loud, moaning so loud that you almost want this man to cover your mouth about it.

You stay like that for quite some time, he’s content to let you make the moves, content to let you be on top, in charge, and you appreciate that. Mr. Modern indeed, you think – or you would think, if you had any room in your head to think at all, gasping and groaning out a litany of please please please more more more yes yes yes!

He comes with a grunt, and a long groan, and your hand moves down to your clit to quickly rub one out before his cock grows soft inside you, but you find that he’s quick to beat you to it, eager to fuck you through his orgasm and make sure you get off too. You’re grateful, especially as the rough pad of his thumb swirls your slick over your clit and makes pleasure spark behind your eyes, trembling atop him as you come hard.

You gasp and pant and he kisses at the corner of your mouth, licks across your teeth and suckles on your lower lip, and you get off of his lap, collapsing on your back next to him. You both look up at the mirror and groan, laugh a little with how much of a mess you’ve made – bruises and lipstick and scratches from nails littering your bodies.

You watch him turn to you in the reflection of the mirror, and you turn to face him too, his peaceful serene, blissed out post-orgasm glow making him look radiant. He’s quiet though, and this is always the uncomfortable part, isn’t it? The walk of shame where you part ways, never to see one another again.

“Shall I…I can go. If you’d prefer.” You whisper, although for the first time in your entire career, you don’t want to.

“No, no stay with me, let’s have that dinner we talked about.” He surprises you, gathering you up in his arms and tucking you against his chest. He rubs sweetly at your back, and you let yourself be held as he convinces you further with, “They’ll bring it right to us.”

“You enjoyed yourself that much, hm?” You tease, and he laughs, making your own ego preen as he nods.

“I like your company, I’d love it if you perhaps delighted me in spending the weekend together.” The man licks his lips and tilts your chin up to meet him, “If your friend won’t mind.”

“My friend?” You frown for a second, confused.

“The person you were meeting.” He reminds you and you blink, grinning and shrugging to play it off. Damn, you think, his cock really was something special, to make you forget why you were even here.

“Oh right, well I think they’ll be okay with it, I just hope they show up at some point this weekend. Otherwise this trip will have been for nothing.” You mutter, but then, then you look up at him and let yourself feel wanted, “Or maybe, maybe it won’t.”

The man smiles at you, a great big pleased smile, and you somehow get the feeling that like you, he understands what it’s like, to be lonely at the top.

After hours of conversation and room service, champagne and strawberries, a delicious set of entrees and desserts, you find yourself content to spend the night in this man’s bed. Your suite will be there tomorrow after all, and you can’t help but fall asleep smiling, thinking that perhaps tomorrow night, you can take this man back to yours and return the hospitality.

But when you wake up in the morning, it is to an empty bed, no sign of the man. The mattress is cool next to you, he must have left during the night. The sun peeks through the curtains and illuminates the silver of a room service cart, he was at least kind enough to order you breakfast.

Smiling, you get up and walk naked over to the cart, where a little hand written note is resting atop one of the cloches. You pick it up and unfold it – and immediately feel like you’ve just been run over with a truck, when the words hit your brain:

My deepest apologies for disappearing on you like this, but when duty calls, one must answer as I’m sure you know.

We’ll meet again, 007.

Yours truly,

Kylo Ren.

You stand there, shocked and in disbelief – both at how he knew who you were, and how wrong you had been in your idea of him. He wasn’t some hulking terrifying thing, he didn’t have any major deformities or disfigurement – although, now that you think about it, perhaps he did have something of a scar on his eyebrow and cheek, but you passed it off as a trick of the light.

“I’ll be damned.” You say, sighing and sitting back down on the mattress, flicking the card against your palm with an incredulous smile. “Kylo Ren.”

Of all the people, you think as you dig into the eggs benedict and waffles that would pain you if they went to waste, you just had to go and pick him to fuck, didn’t you? You chuckle and sigh, knowing that this was the start of a very strange, frustrating, and beautiful relationship. What that relationship was, you weren’t sure, but one thing was for certain – M was going to have a fucking field day.

----------------

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hollywoods-golden-age-imagines · 4 years ago

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A forbidden/secret romance with King Mongkut would include~

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- Forbidden? Nothing is forbidden from the King of Siam! Well, that's what he likes to think anyway. In actuality, that’s not exactly true.

- While the King is able to do; and does, pretty much whatever he pleases, there are still certain unspoken rules that even he must acknowledge exist. One of those rules being that the King of Siam should not be seen fraternizing with peasant girls; least of all in a “more than friendly” way.

- And yet, there you were, pretty as can be …and the daughter of the man he bought his gardens trees from.

- He first saw you as you were helping your father deliver his newest order. He liked you almost immediately and from that moment on, he knew; in some way, he had to have you.

- So he goes out and has his servant introduce the two of you. He enjoys your nervousness, he likes the way you glance up shyly at him and say your polite little greeting.

- He takes you on a walk around the gardens as your father continues his work, telling you about his plans for future areas and bragging about how magnificent it will be.

- At some point, you inform him that a certain phase of his plane isn’t possible, explaining that if he were to try it, it would kill the plants immediately.

- He looks at you with a scowl and for a moment you’re terrified that you’ve done something terribly wrong, but then he “asks” about another area of the garden; one that fits the type of environment you’d explained would be needed, and his smile returns as you agree that it would be the perfect place; complimenting him on his decision.

- When you’ve returned to the front gates, he stops you and your father before you leave, informing the two of you that he’d like to have you return the next day. As he’s walking away, he confirms that he wants you to return and with a wave of his hand, you’re both dismissed.

- And so you return. And then you return again …and again …and again, until finally, he confronts you with the idea of you taking a room in his home to be his “garden manager”. He refuses to take no for an answer, even as you try to explain that your father would be better suited and soon enough you’re living in his palace.

- In the beginning, every now and again he would have his servants call upon you and it would always scare the hell out of you because you’d assume you were in trouble. That fear would dissipate the moment you arrived in his room and he’d merely ask you a bunch of questions and make conversation, prolonging your meaningless visit for as long as he could.

- Once you’ve been there for a little while, you’ll begin to get more comfortable, especially after you figure out that he seems to find your lack of knowledge about kingdom life and being around a king amusing.

- He’ll always demand that people leave you two alone when you’re in his room/office or walking the grounds, etc. He hates being interrupted when you’re together.

- There’s this internal conflict inside of him. On one hand, he knows that he cares for you more than he’s ever truly thought possible. On the other hand, he knows he shouldn’t be feeling this way and that if his people knew, they would surely lose; at least, a little respect for him.

- He tries to keep himself from admitting his feelings for you and giving in but it is truly difficult.

- The sexual tension between the two of you is palpable. In some moments, you feel as though if you raised your hand between you, there’d be a current there, a force that binds you.

- Your relationship is a slow burn, especially before the two of you kiss for the first time. There’s countless moments where you have that will they, won’t they sort of interaction and you both expect something to happen but it just doesn’t.

- Artful seduction. Picture this: you enter his room, he is lying on the floor in a sultry position, his shirt is open wider or completely missing, he gazes at you with fire in his eyes. That’s one of the few times he’s tried to “subtly” proposition you though you probably didn’t fully catch on.

- We all know that he’s a fairly blunt man who just does as he pleases. When he’s had enough toying around, he’ll just kiss you or flat out tell you that he “wants you”.

- He never outright tells you exactly how he feels about you but you can see it in his eyes and the way he acts with you: how he touches and kisses you, etc. He doesn’t admit his affections or feelings to many people so it isn’t just you.

- I’m just saying, if you come from another country than he falls for you even harder and makes the excuse that the time you spend with each other is him consulting you on foreign matters.

- At least one of his wives know what's going on; especially if he asks them to come and get you constantly or if you spend a lot of time with them. They obviously aren’t upset by it, they actually sort of like that he’s taken by someone so humble and kind.

- The palace is big and he rules with an iron fist so it isn’t likely that a ton of people will catch the two of you in the act. You can be with each other with little risk.

- A lot of people will wonder how you can sway him so much. They don’t understand how he relents so easily and does as you ask.

- He has to somewhat hide exactly how much he enjoys your praise, not wanting people to catch on to the fact that your opinion means more to him than anyone else’s.

- Gifts. He may not be able to be at your side, touching you constantly or in public but the bracelet of his that he has given you can be.

- He’s a very jealous man so try to avoid other men when you’re around him, even if they’re just your friends. He’ll make a point to interject himself into your conversation, making passive aggressive comments or doing something that alludes to his new dislike of them. You’ll definitely be questioned about it later that day.

- After he gets jealous, he’ll call you to his side and purposefully keep you near so that you aren’t around that other person. He wants you to prove to him that you still favor him above anybody else.

- Spending countless nights in his room and disappearing to your own early in the morning.

- He enjoys the way you speak and behave, it’s so different from the women he’s used to. All the different slang and habits that you've picked up over the years really interest him.

- Swift, strong and passionate kisses.

- Sometimes you’ll just be pulled into some secluded area and caught in a searing kiss before you even realize it.

- Purposefully placed hands. People don’t take notice but you do, the way his hands move to rest on the curve of your waist or hip or slide to the small of your back.

- Emotion filled glances. It’s enough to make you feel like you’re drowning; or burning, alive.

- Having dinner with him, his dining room is usually empty anyway.

- One by one, his wives and servants will begin to see what’s happening but none dare to say anything; at least not to him.

- He goes with you to visit your father/family, scoping out your home or your fathers shop as only a rich person can, finding interest in little things; different innovations or tools, because he’s never had to use any of them before.

- After a while, he decides that he’s sure that he wants to keep you with him forever so he finally expresses his true feelings for you. He tells you confidently, as though he expects you to automatically return his affections, but on the inside he’s still nervous.

- In the end, it really doesn’t matter where you come from or who you are, if he wants to “keep you” he will, regardless of anyone opinions. He’s only ever really married out of convenience and for beauty and while he’s grown to care for all his brides, he truly loves you. Because of that, nothing in the world could stop him.

#the king and i imagine #the king and i headcanons #the king and i headcanon #the king and i imagines #king mongkut imagine #king mongkut headcanons #king mongkut headcanon #king mongkut imagines #50s movie imagine #1950s movie imagines #1950s movie imagine #1950s movie headcanons #1950s movie headcanon #50s movie headcanons #50s movie imagines #50s movie headcanon

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readytoclimbtothestars · 4 years ago

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Mad Men, or On The Nature of the Deepest Conflict

One of the most revelatory lines on the show is said by a character that was relatively short lived. In the second episode of season 4, Dr Faye Miller tells Don that they both are in the same business, the business of helping people sort out their deepest conflict. When Don asks what that is, she answers “In a nutshell, it all comes down to what I want versus what is expected of me”. As Matthew Weiner, the creator and showrunner, pointed out, advertising does not make you want to do anything, it reminds you to do what you already want to do, that maybe got lost as you did what was expected of you. We see these people, whose job is to remind the public of what they want, as they struggle with the acknowledgment of their own wants and desires, and if and how it is possible to attain them.

In Don’s case, the irony of his tragedy is that the cage of what is expected of him is one that he created for himself: that of being Don Draper. The suave, charming creative genius with the beautiful wife and the adorable children, and all that comes with it, is something that we see him struggle with constantly. He chose to go down that road, to erase Dick Whitman, and yet at the same time we repeatedly see that he didn’t really leave him behind. Time and time again in the later seasons we hear him voice the idea that nobody really knows him, and thus nobody really loves him. One of the deepest connections he has is with Anna Draper; the comfort he can take in her saying that she knows everything about him, and still loves him, is a comfort nobody else can give him, especially not his wife. He saw that, as soon as Betty learned who he really was, she didn’t want to have anything else to do with him, as he says to Anna. She maybe once loved Don, but she would never love Dick. So, when Anna dies, Don tells Peggy that the only one who ever really knew him died. The deep want of being truly known, and thus truly loved is something that he can never really acknowledge, as it would make the paper castle he built crumble to the ground; so he buries it under the desire for women, alcohol, cigarettes, excesses that are obviously never enough. Tormented by this conflict, he continues to self-destruct up until the point when he hears a stranger voice the same preoccupation of being truly invisible. He embraces him, apparently feeling a communion he never knew before. Maybe he finally find the freedom to want what he wants and let go of what is expected of Don Draper, the brilliant creative director.

Pete Campbell, the privileged Wasp, has already defied the expectations of what is expected of him by going into advertising and not into banking. The idea of what is expected of him, or at least what he thinks is expected of him, contribute to his constant unhappiness and impatience, always feeling he’s not being given what he is due. For the first two season, we might say that he feels Trudy is what is expected of him, and Peggy is what he wants. The scene where he describes how he would go hunting, and then let his woman cook what he killed, is the expression of all the desires he feels he is denied, exactly because of what is expected of him. When Beth Dawes asks him what is wrong with him (even though the woman who asks him has just had electro-shock therapy and she thinks he is talking about a friend), he says that after their affair he realized everything he already had was not right. He did what was expected of him and didn’t get anything that he wanted, and now he doesn’t even know what he would want, if he could. His constant struggle with his dissatisfaction can only be resolved when he realizes that there doesn’t have to be a struggle at all. He married Trudy because it was expected of him, but in the end, he realizes that what is expected of him and what he wants don’t necessarily have to be separated. Trudy loved him when he wasn’t all that loveable, and she stood by his side, even when they weren’t married anymore. He always felt that his coworker both wanted and expected him to fail, but in the end he finally gets the recognition he wanted, with the offer of an new job. He stops obsessing over what is expected of him and what is owed to him, and realizes that he can have what he wants, that he is “entitled to more”, as he says to Trudy when he wins her back.

Peggy Olson always went against the idea of what was expected of her. In the first season she is expected to be attractive for the man in the office, and she gets fat (even though there’s also another reason for that). Constantly defying expectations, her journey to establishing herself in the workplace takes her through all the season, and its conclusion with Stan’s declaration and his kiss is not a symbol of returning to what is expected of her, but of getting all that she wanted in the order she wanted it in. Having gone through some pretty traumatic experiences, such as giving away her child, she still is one of the characters with one of the most positive arcs and best endings. She was probably the boldest of them all in declaring what she wanted instead of what was expected of her, and she was rewarded for it in the end. Her relationship with Don was one of the purest things on that show, and it’s not a case that in the end she has a satisfying ending with all of the main characters, be it skating through an empty office as Roger Sterling plays the piano, receiving a cactus and a well-deserved acknowledgment from Pete Campbell, a job proposition from Joan, or one of the three final phone calls from Don. Peggy saw what was expected of her, was not satisfied with it, and went after what she wanted instead.

Roger Sterling, the rich man who never had to work for anything, didn’t have any expectations to live up to. Nobody expected anything of him, and that can be as damaging as too many expectations. Nobody takes him seriously, not his coworkers, not his wives, not even his daughter, constantly disappointed by him. And he doesn’t either, sailing through life feeling that the less is expected of him, the less he has to offer (except for drinks and witty remarks), and the less he knows what he wants. He seemed to be imprisoned by the lack of expectations just as much as other characters are imprisoned by the abundance of them. In the end, it seems that it took more than 60 years, and meeting the age-appropriate Marie Calvet, to find someone that expected something from him that was not his money nor his wit, and to realise that he could, and he did, want to live up to the expectations.

Joan Holloway knows what is expected of her, and she knows how to use it to her advantage. She needs to be attractive for the men in the office, and she needs to find a man, get married and stop working. As the series goes on, she starts to consciously realise that the expectations do not correspond to her wants. The idea of the perfect marriage is shattered by Greg, and she starts to concentrate on the career she might have, probably (even though she wouldn’t say it out loud) inspired by Peggy’s trajectory, and how this secretary from nowhere refused to listen to Joan’s wisdom and made her own way in a men’s world. So she starts to make her own way too, fighting against the obstacles of what is expected of a woman like her. By the end, she is so far from who she was at the beginning, that she doesn’t hesitate long before choosing her new career over Richard, in a final acknowledgment of the distance between the position she is expected to be in and the position she wants, because, as she tells Richard “she can’t just turn off that part of herself” anymore.

Betty Draper is the rarity among these characters; the one who did all that was expected of her, and the one that arguably got the worst ending. Her mother taught her that what was expected of her was being beautiful, and she was. Yet, with all her beauty, her perfect life with the perfect husband and the sweet children, she is profoundly unhappy. In season 5, when she fails to meet the only expectation anybody has ever had of her, she can’t bear to have even her husband look at her. She spends a life trying to be beautiful and proper, and she is still trying at the end, as her letter to her only daughter details the instructions for the perfect funeral, the funeral someone of her standing is supposed to have. She lived with the profound unhappiness of knowing she was never meant to be more than an ornament on a man's arm, but always refused to acknowledge it, because she knew no other way of being than being what other expected.

In one interview, Matthew Weiner describes advertising people as “The mirror makers”, referring to the title of a book on advertising. All of these characters, busy as they were making mirrors for the public, didn’t realise they were building mirrors for themselves, and so many of them that they couldn’t find the one that reflected their real image anymore, and what that real image wanted.

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daggerfall · 4 years ago

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At the risk of starting yet more disk horse, what's the problem with Dyvayth Fyr? To clarify I've only interacted with him in clockwork city, haven't played Morrowind or seen him anywhere else in eso. And he seemed like kinda a privilaged ass but no more so than Tharn, or honestly any of the Wizard tm characters in tes, so I've always been a little confused by the hate.

i did kinda worry this was like, bait when i first saw it, not noticing what had popped out of my queue around the time I got this - but at full risk of discourse, i think it is still best to like, give you an answer as unbiased as I can. full disclosure ive not played morrowind and im gonna get a little soapboxy about tesblr discourse

in TES III morrowind, there are some dialogue lines that imply/state the four women in fyr’s house to be his daughters, clones of himself, but also his wives. which should pretty obviously be uhhhhhhhhhhh really REALLY yikes. ESO fyr exists 800 years before this and has zero references to this, nor does it give any indication of fyr as being anywhere NEAR that level of reprehensible. It’s a big difference, one that some fans agree with as “the writers of ESO wanted to distance themselves from the original writing of morrowind, which was a massive dumpster fire and highly HIGHLY problematic in places, but wanted to bring in such an important lore character as divayth fyr for their story”. other fans see the decision as woobifying an irredeemable character for the purposes of wanting to fuck him or whatever, without the baggage of morrowind, which to them is something one cannot and should not shrug off.

and in all honesty, i support whatever people feel in regards to the character, on an individual level. the morrowind characterization can and should elicit strong emotional responses - some want him killed and to suffer, some want him entirely gone from the game, some just want that one aspect about him removed from the game for personal comfort, some want it gone so they dont have to feel guilty about liking him. and some people only know him from eso, where he is as you described: no worse than any other lovable asshole wizard character. he induces a certain level of rage in me only seen before in tharn that I find to be... enjoyable to play through. I do admittedly enjoy his characterization in ESO (but I’m just a corporate simp so what do I know).

and those people who only know him from eso often have NO CLUE what his morrowind characterization was like (or that he was in morrowind at all) because morrowind is highly unplayable if you have any form of dyslexia, adhd that doesnt let you read walls of text, hate the combat system, hate older graphics, your system can’t play it, you’re wildly uncomfortable with the amount of sexual harassment and depictions of slavery in it... there’s so many good reasons to never play or care about morrowind.

The hate I usually see directed at Fyr is either “he’s like tharn so it’s lovable bullying of an asshole wizard character” or “he’s disgusting and i hate that he even exists in ESO”. It entirely depends on people’s stance of what to do with his Morrowind characterization: throw it out, acknowledge and condemn it, or be unaware of it. So i cannot tell you if the hate you are seeing is coming from one side or another without knowing OP’s intent.

If people want to talk about Fyr without ever acknowledging Morrowind, hell yeah. If people want him to suffer and die because his Morrowind characterization is especially emotionally triggering given trauma or whatever other reason, then all the power to you, I support you. If people never want to acknowledge him, go for it. If people want to talk about Fyr but knowingly remove that singular disgusting thing about him from Morrowind because the idea of it even existing in the world makes you WILDLY uncomfortable (that’s my stance personally), rock on.

I think people deserve the right to feel uncomfortable with him, feel rage and hate toward him even. And I also think they deserve the right to just, delete that one bit because it would be SO EASY to get rid of it and make him into a character more like Tharn who we love to hate - to just take Morrowind and throw it out the window. And I think both these groups deserve the right to exist in the same spaces and be civil toward each other. Essentially, let people feel their rage, but also don’t bully and harass people off this site for only knowing ESO characterization of Fyr when they talk about him :)

#incest cw #ask to tag #disc horse #yes im going to reference that #because this ask brought up that discourse in voice when i got it and i was fuckin pissed #anyway anon i hope this was somewhat helpful in explaining a rather... complex issue?#anonymous #asks

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queencamden · 4 years ago

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Do you think that the SIX fandom has become very toxic ????

That’s rather complicated. I’m not totally well-versed in fandom drama, as the major fandoms I’ve been in previously (School for Good and Evil, Six of Crows and Three Dark Crowns) are all fairly chill. However, I have noticed that it has gotten a lot less unified as time went on. I first joined around July (before I got my account, just looking at posts) and it seemed much more supportive then.

I think the fandom has just become very DIVIDED. I, like several others, have become more in the Tudorblr community than the Six fandom at this point, and because of this I’ve noticed a big divide in terms of views of historical accuracy. (That’s the lens I will be focusing on, as I don’t care much about other discourse)

The divide between history fans and Six fans (and the toxicity within fandom this leads to) can be summarized in three main points.

1. History blogs and history-loving fans don’t understand/ are weirded out by fandomey fans.

2. Fandomey fans do not bother to consider the history.

3. Both sides are very aggressive on what they think is right.

Let’s start with the history blogs

They don’t understand the fandom

I hate to say it, but we’ve become the next Hamilton fandom: most Six fans get their info only from the show, and from this have developed their own, fandomey versions of the characters. The Anne Boleyn that the Six fandom loves is not the real Anne Boleyn. The Katherine Howard the Six fandom loves is not the real Katheryn Howard. However, (I saw a post about this once) the fandom is quite good at separating the characters from the actual people. (Most of) us know that the Angry Bible Aunt, Chaotic Heely Gremlin, The Mom Friend, The Dog-Loving Badass, The Babey-Brat, and The Sleep-Deprived Academic are NOT the Six Wives of Henry VIII. Because that is how fandom works. You take the most exaggerated versions of the characters in question and work off of them. ESPECIALLY in theatre fandoms, where most fans can’t even see the whole show. I think that’s why Theatre fandoms have a reputation for being cringy. The exaggerated, fandom versions of the characters are all they know.

I think a lot of the time, more history-focused blogs don’t get that aspect of fandom. Yes, Tudorblr has its own memey versions of these people (Anne Boleyn being extra, Henry being Garfield) but the content that they make are not solely these characters- because in the end the meme versions are characters. It’s hard for history blogs to understand that the fandom versions of the characters, are NOT what the fans actually think these people were like. This can lead to mocking, and attacking Six fans for being “dumb” or “cringy”. Certain blogs that are within the fandom that like the historical figures hate on fan blogs and that is NOT OKAY. For example, I saw a post where someone was making fun of Six the Kids, because they “would never be friends in the modern day”. Yeah..... neither would the Queens. And this is explicitly set in the universe of Six. History blogs should stop being high and mighty over fandoms having fun. HOWEVER.....

Fans don’t understand the history.

This show IS about real people. Who actually existed. In real life. And Six fans who ONLY reduce them to these characters can be very frustrating for people who are interested in the real people. Because Six is so popular the ONLY versions of these people you can often find on Tumblr are the Six versions. And I get it. Really I do. I used to be one of those Six fans who called KH “Kitty” (only for clarification purposes between the Katherines but still) and made memes about Anne being a chaotic gremlin. And then I looked up the actual history and I STOPPED. Not everyone has to go that deep, of course, or stop making these memes (most of them are very funny) but it would be good to respect the historical figures. I understand that it’s hard to do that in an incorrect quote, but maybe do what @sabrianna said in an earlier post and tag the characters as, say Katharine of Aragon- Six, so as not to clog the tags of people searching for the actual historical figure.

Like I said, the problem is not with making exaggerated versions of the queens. That is part of BEING a fandom. It’s not even a problem of using the characterizations from the show (such as chaotic Boleyn) What is the problem, is that many fans DON’T care about the history, or think they know everything about it. They make roleplays, ship the queens, e.t.c. but it’s all very out of character to the real women. I said earlier that most people can differentiate between the fandom queens and the real queens and that’s true. But some fans don’t. Some fans only know the queens from the fanon and the musical and because of that we get stuff like UwU Babey Katheryn Howard or people shipping Boleyn and Aragon, which is actually kind of disrespectful to the historical figures. At best, this leads to ire and harassment from Tudorblr, at worst to actual misinformation about the queens being spread by the fandom.

Both are overly aggressive in what they think is right

This is the big one and the major component of the “toxicity” of the fandom. Six is a musical about raising your voice, so it makes sense that it’s fans would be very outspoken. But it falls into a problem when they refuse to see the queens any other way. When it gets to people harassing others for stating differing opinions just to defend YOUR interpretation of a real person who actually lived, that is wrong. Because often your interpretation is NOT right, or at least limited. For example people who view Elizabeth and Mary as a black-and-white ‘good sister, evil sister’ dichotomy, when in reality they were both just as grey and complex as anyone else. But people will straight-up harass and argue with others who are just trying to explain that Mary’s background caused a great deal of her problems, and that Elizabeth did bad things too.

There’s just a lack of LISTENING which is a problem for a fandom based on history. (I know Six isn’t historically accurate, but a lot of fans are interested in the real queens). History is subjective. In my time researching historical!Katheryn Howard my opinion on her has changed around three to four times and that’s good. You are allowed to have multiple views on a thing, and when someone is trying to explain something to you, you don’t have to dismiss it. This goes for the history fans to. When Six fans make a factually incorrect statement, many history fans tend to condescend or belittle them which, as a Six fan, does NOT make us want to learn more. Simply telling us the true, often much more interesting, situation, DOES. Also, friendly reminder, most of the Six fandom are teenagers, and from what I’ve seen of Tudorblr it’s more of a mix of teens and adults. IF YOU ARE AN ADULT, DO NOT BELITTLE TEENAGERS FOR BEING WRONG. WE ARE ALREADY INSECURE ENOUGH.

Tldr; History fans, treat Six fans with respect, and acknowledge that their fandomey queens are not the queens you know and love. Six fans, respect the queens (and the history fans), do some research, and put *Queen’s Name*- Six in the tags, so that history blogs don’t ALWAYS have to see Six content. Both groups, respect others opinions. Stop constantly trying to prove you’re right. In the case of Six fans, you’re probably not (sorry) and in the case of history fans, most of the Six fandom are new to this and still learning.

Sorry for the long post @thedeadqueensclub I meant to have this finished a while ago. I don’t really know of any other fandom drama aside from the Tudorblr Vs. Six thing, so this is all I got for fandom toxicity (though there is definitely a lot more I haven’t covered)

I really enjoyed answering this, and would love if I got more asks (though it might take some time to answer them) It’s really nice to talk to all of you!

#sixthemusical #tudorblr #asks #sixcourse #long post

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trashcatsnark · 3 years ago

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What’s your opinion on Kerry being available to only male V when it’s mentioned in-game that he’s bi (correct me if I’m wrong, I have terrible memory)?? I feel like they should’ve had bi romance options if they were able to implement both gay and straight ones.

Oh anon, oooooh anon. I love you dearly, but you intentionally or not might as well have thrown lit dynamite in my ask box. This discourse has been such a strange beast within this fandom and I have definitely shared some vague thoughts about it before. I’m putting everything under a read more, to help stave off some....harassment or putting it in people’s lives who may not want it.

I still remember I was frankly heartbroken and upset when I first learned Kery wasn’t romanceable by female V when the game first officially came out, but before I played it; River and Panam weren’t even really known about, cause they weren’t talked about much in the promo material, plus Kerry was shown in romance scenes with what looked to be female V. So, if you go back far enough you’ll find me in December cope posting and being the saddest and angriest of beans, because other than Johnny who I knew was likely off the table. He was one of the only characters I wanted to potentially romance. Now, I’m further away from it, have processed my feelings regarding it and am more rational I believe regarding the issue.

But, that being said, a large issue of this sort of discourse is that; no matter what anyone says, someone somwhere is upset. I’ve been insulted, blocked, accused of fetishizing gay men, and so much over my opinion regarding this matter. I’m still currently debating if I even wanna tag this, cause the issue almost always brings negativity to my blog and to me. I have very little interest in being berated for this, so we’ll see how I feel after I finish typing this all out. I’m going to try to go through all my issues, my points, my troubles and feelings about the matter. But, at the end of the day, it is merely my opinion. If someone disagrees, fine, just don’t attack people or berate them over pixels in a video game. Just dont. That’s all I ask. Okay, so I’m gonna divide this into talking points and whatever, now.

Firstly, Kerry is bisexual. Point blank, period. I’ve seen folks try to argue that his wife was like comphet, which if you dont know means that sometimes exclusively homosexual people will try to force themselves into heterosexual relationships because society has conditioned them to believe they have to be straight. While, I’m not negating the fact that this happens, as a bisexual/pansexual (I use the terms interchangeably to define my experience and feelings) person I’ve struggled with it when making sense of my attraction to women. It genuinely is something that happens. This is not the case for Kerry; he doesn’t ever hide his attraction to men, between TTRPG lore and the video game he has had two wives , and he is stated by game developers and TTRPG creator to be bisexual.He is bisexual. Getting that out there, saying other wise, in my opinion is a level of bi erasure. That being said, I do still have my grievances with how the game chose to handle his bisexuality and bisexuality as whole, also imo, the game generally doesn’t seem...to treat players who are attracted to men well…

But before I get into that, I wanna make clear, I feel like Cyberpunk 2077 should have had more romance options for every orientation. If you’re not going to create a player-sexual style of romance; ie where every romanceable character is attracted to the player regardless and wish to focus on each character having their own predetermined sexuality; only have one character for each sexuality is kind of bullshit. If you’re a lesbian player and you’re not into Judy, you get nothing, except a fuck around with Meredith (who I will get to later). You’re a straight woman, but not into River, shit out of luck. You’re a gay man who’s not into Kerry, sucks to suck bud. You’re a straight man who’s not into Panam (kind dont get how you wouldn’t be but who am i to judge), well, you can fuck Meredith… so woooo. Oh also, if you’re not attracted to women, you will still be forced to watch in first person pov a sex scene with Alt and if you want Johnny to like you, you gotta date a girl. Also, all the male love interests will be sidelined mostly…. Hooray… But I digress, either go in with all romance options bi/pan/player sexual, or give more options for romance. Cause now you have the issue of people not getting the partner they hoped for and not liking their only option. Now, you got people trying to make the Judy bi, which is lesbian erasure and lesbophobic, along with people saying Kerry isn’t bi and can’t be with women which is bi erasure and biphobic. Whereas, if you had just gone in from the get go with either more options or a player-sexual romance system; we wouldn’t be here, CDPR.

Okay, so next thing, now that I’ve addressed my issues with the entire romance system and that yes, Kerry is bi. Should Kerry have been able to be romanced as female V? Yes and no. Which sounds vague, but I’m going somewhere. With the current set up of it; Kerry being romanceable to a female V would have unfairly given female players an additional love interest over male players. Female V would have the option of Judy, River, or Kerry. And Male V’s would have the option of Kerry or Panam. That’s not fair. I get that, inherently. CDPR painted themselves into a corner, by only letting there be two romances for “each” gender, one for “each” sexuality, and then using a canonically bi character for one of them. They played themselves, they were either gonna have to give an unfair amount of love interest to one side of their gender system or make a bi character who will only pursue one gender. So, they went for the latter.

Now, some people feel thats fine, because Kerry having a gender preference is fine and its okay for bi people to lean a certain way in regards to gender and its okay for them to not be attracted to people. And that is true. I am a bisexual woman who leans a little more towards men, I get that. However, I have only been given one reason for Kerry’s preference for male V over female V. And it was by a developer of the game who stated that Kerry pursues Male V and not Female V because Male V reminds him more of Johnny… And I hate that. I personally, hate it so deeply, because to me it does a complete disservice to Kerry and V’s relationship and Kerry’s arc. Because even with female V you see him being preoccupied with Johnny and V’s connection to Johnny, then you see him move past that. So, to then state, its still a deciding factor in him romancing V is so wrong to me. Like why???? Why would you do that to people who like Kerry??? Why would you put that in their heads, that Kerry on some level, subconsciously or not, was thinking about Johnny when he decides to romance V. Cause that’s not in the game, in the game you get the vibe he’s moving on past Johnny, like he’s growing, developing, genuinely likes V. But that stupid tweet, just radiates rancid vibes, whyyy???

And then, outside of that nasty tweet, I have to ask what other reason is there for why he prefers male V over fem V. They’re...the same characters essentially, just with different pronouns and body type. They also can look like whatever you want; they’re completely customizable. So, Its based off of what the game associates with gender characteristics and nothing else, meaning, his attraction is rooted solely in their gender and he turns down fem V by virtue of them being a woman and nothing else. Which, yeah, bisexual/pansexual people have preferences but when that preference completely excludes a gender based on nothing but gender…. Uhh????? See my issue????

And I’ve seen people saying, well, its better than CDPR playing into slutty will date anybody bisexual stereotypes. But, the thing is...THEY STILL DO THAT which is what drives me up the god damn wall; they managed to do slutty bi stereotypes and I don’t even get kiss the boy, which again, I get the need for fairness but wow, just wow. And lemme explain.

Meredith is the only character, other than joytoys, whom you can have sex with regardless of gender, body type, etc. She is the only character who shows that she is attracted to V on some level regardless of gender.

She is a one night stand. Her sex animations are the same as joytoys. She treated like a promiscuous love phobic woman. And having characters like that is fine, my own V is promiscuous and love phobic. But, we can acknowledge that in a video game by a AAA game company having the only character who is at least physically attracted to the player no matter what, be nothing but sex fodder...isn’t great bi representation, right?

Oh, and Kerry himself still is a promiscuous bisexual man, he just won’t romance female V because apparently, according to a dev, they don’t remind him of Johnny enough. AND THATS THE DEVS WORDS, NOT MINE, I HATE THAT. Like, Kerry is shown to have people’s lingerie around his house. He’s stated by Johnny to be someone who fucks around. He gets a blowjob from a man in a stairwell.

The two most blatantly canonically bi character in this game are promiscuous; one wont romance V at all and just wants sex, the other will only romance a male V because at worse, he’s comparing them mentally subconsciously to his dead friend and at best….because….reasons…. Literally, from what I understand for Kerry to romance V, they have to have the “male” body type and “male” voice. Meaning, fem V could literally by all appearances look like masc V, body type wise, but because she uses female pronouns and has a feminine sounding voice...no… the stars say no…

In my honest opinion, it is bad bisexual representation and a not so well thought out romance system for a game.

But, that being said, I literally never romance anyone, because I’m a Johnny simp. So, the fuck do I know.

oh god do i tag this.... ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

#anon #asks #i can't put these in the main tags or kerry's i cant #im so weary of this #im sorry anon #im a pussy who's grown so weary of discourse #Anonymous

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parrhesiablog · 3 years ago

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Polyamory and Blank Slatism

The Kiss by Francesco Hayez [cropped] (source)

I. Happiness in Polyamory and Monogamy

In discussions of polyamory, participants frequently suffer from typical mind fallacy, the tendency to believe that other people have a psychological profile similar to one’s own. Some monogamists likely believe that polyamorists have feelings of romantic jealousy as they do and are miserable. Some polyamorists believe that monogamists are suffering from restrictive socially constructed norms regarding what a relationship is supposed to be like and they have overcome the social influence by using reason. While some polyamorists would acknowledge that being poly may not be for everyone. A balanced approach would probably be to say that:

Some monogamists would be happier as polyamorous but social stigma is playing a non-trivial role in preventing them from becoming polyamorous or they are deluding themselves about the harms of being polyamorous.

Some monogamists would not be happier as polyamorous and social stigma is not playing a significant role in their decision.

Some polyamorous people would be happier as monogamous but they do not become monogamous because of pressure from a partner or because they are delusional.

Some polyamorous people would not be happier as monogamous and the social stigma is annoying at best and makes life really difficult at worst.

The difficult part about this is that these things are nearly trivially true. Yes, some people fall into all of these categories. I think that the argument is usually that polyamorous people think there are a lot of people in category 1 because of social norms and anti-polyamorous people think that a lot of people are in category 3 because they are deluding themself or a partner is pressuring them or some other factor.

II. Blank Slatism

Blank Slatism is the idea that human psychology is entirely a product of environmental forces and not influenced by genetics. Hardly anyone is blank slastist about all psychological traits but many have blank slatist positions or sympathies with regard to some traits. Blank slate arguments are not made explicitly but can be seen through implication; no one will say “that is entirely environmental” but their argument will hinge on the trait being entirely or at least mostly environmental without acknowledging the potential for a genetic cause.

I believe that some polyamorists believe or behave as if sexual and romantic jealousy are socially constructed and can be overcome through reasoning. In a recent substack post by Scott Alexander, he made mentioned that the argument “you wouldn’t be jealous if your friend had other friends” was commonly raised as an argument by polyamorous people. I commented on this that it would be difficult for me to imagine someone persuaded by this analogy. What would be a possible response: “You are right. This emotion of jealousy that I have has ceased.” I can’t imagine that happening.

In other contexts, if I wanted to convince someone to stop being jealous, I would argue that their partner is faithful and loyal. I would make the point that it is unlikely that the attractive female intern at work is going to sleep with your husband because he is a good man. This would be an argument that you need not be worried because the actual act of unfaithfulness would not take place. This could make someone cease feeling jealous. But saying something like “Why are you sad that your husband is spending time with the intern. You wouldn’t mind him spending time with his buddies” seems unconvincing because the point of concern is the love, affection of sexual intimacy being shared with someone else. This feeling does not seem so mutable to me.

It is not so mutable in my view because it is not a product of social influence but is likely a product of evolution. Jealousy is coded in our genes. Across the world, there are concerns about sexual female loyalty likely due to cuckoldry preventing one’s genes from being passed on. In the Blank Slate, Steven Pinker argues that female jealousy is more focused on a psychological connection because women would be concerned that their husband would leave them. Women that did not care if their husbands fell in love and ran off with other women likely did not succeed in passing their genes on just as men who let their wives sleep around did not either. I’ll note that there would be extremely strong selection against things like compersion, positive feelings from a partner enjoying someone else romantically or sexually. That is not to say that it does not exist.

Even if jealousy were not an emotional issue, wanting ones partner to remain faithful makes sense if you are concerned about them leaving you. While being polyamorous allows one’s partner to having the best of both worlds, they may soon find that they do not need you. If this is a concern, then not wanting polyamory may be rational in some sense even if jealousy is not experienced.

III. Moral Concerns

There is likely some moral concerns that are intertwined with disgust. To some, the idea of one’s spouse having sex with another person is quite revolting. This emotion likely carries over to seeing other couples engage in this behavior. Love is regarded as a high value and sexual novelty is regarded as a low value. Trading off between these two can be seen as something that is immoral. This feeling of moral disgust is very hard to shake for people. I do not think these things can be argued away very easily.

One other concern would be societal instability. One form of this argument would be a bunch of men who cannot get women and they resort to anti-social behavior. I feel this may be a problem but someone is not obligated to pair off with a man because he may engage in anti-social behavior. However, it might be good to encourage more stabilizing social norms but perhaps not use negative stigma to achieve them. Another form of this argument would be that this does not provide children with a stable upbringing. A man could get one girlfriend pregnant and then not commit to her or provide resources because this man does not care about her much or likes his other girlfriend more. Children could be exposed to weird social arrangements and we do not know how that would affect their development. In order to evaluate these arguments, it would take a lot more data. Usually, I just see people use hypotheticals. But it is easy to imagine someone would weigh moral concern for this sort of thing higher than they do sexual or romantic jealousy. Again, something that is hard to shake off.

Another concern is that polyamory is imposed on one partner because another partner wants more novelty. The objection would be that the partner who nominally consents but really wish it was not happening just wants to not lose their partner or the objection could be that this hastens the downfall of relationships. Usually, I just see this supported with anecdotes. I do not know if this is the typical form of a poly relationship. A poly person could always say they do not support this but this would probably be a side-effect of normalization. That poly person is not responsible for other people’s relationship disfunction but it is worth noting that many relationships would not achieve the platonic ideal of what being poly would look like.

#poly #polyamory #blank slate #blank slatism

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