#reluctant motherhood

[haggishlyhagging]

“Florence Nightingale was subjected to a ‘ladylike’ upbringing of enforced idleness with the most constructive activities allowed being those of company and visits, (Strachey says she was not even permitted to read to herself, but was read to, a practice which Nightingale describes as ‘like lying on one's back and having liquid poured down one's throat’ (ibid., p. 19).) It was against the uselessness and the despair of such an existence that Nightingale revolted and engaged in a continual battle with her parents. Her mother, who insisted on Nightingale's vacuousness in order that she might be marriageable, relented slightly as Nightingale grew older, rejected proposals, and passed the acceptable marriageable age. It was this relaxation of control, as well as Nightingale's determination, which led to her being able to break out from her suffocating existence and to pursue what she perceived as her vocation. But before she was able to make her move, she had to endure for more than thirty years the repressive regime of a leisured and unmarried woman, 'shut up tight within the conventions which forbade independent action to a woman' (ibid.). It was from this experience that she wrote about and analysed the position of women.

Florence Nightingale recognised that men insisted that women should be happy, and that women therefore were required to assert that they were happy — no matter what the circumstances of their lives — for men took it as a personal offence if the women whom they 'supported' declared themselves unhappy, with the result that women who wished to continue to be supported continued to state that they were happy even when they were most miserable. (This is a point taken up by Jessie Bernard in The Future of Marriage (1972), though, of course, she does not suggest that this is a fairly old idea and one put forward by Florence Nightingale.)

That it is obligatory for a woman to be happy, to present a contented and cheerful disposition to her master in order that he can feel satisfied with the arrangement and secure in the knowledge of his own psychological (as well as financial) indispensability, is a lesson that mothers unwaveringly teach their daughters, argues Nightingale. The only way such a lesson can be taught successfully is by the systematic denial and removal of passion from women. If emotion were allowed to reside in women, says Nightingale, women could not bear their lives, so women go round teaching ‘their daughters that "women have no passions." In the conventional society, which men have made for women, and women have accepted, they must have none, they must act the farce of hypocrisy, the lie that they are without passion — and therefore what else can they say to their daughters, without giving the lie to themselves?’ (Strachey, 1928, p. 396).

And the daughters, taught to deny the existence of any passion, to deny the existence of any will or force in themselves to cultivate a smiling, serene veneer, which reinforces men's images of themselves, try to find amusement, fulfilment, meaning, in the most 'escapist' activities. This is why women read novels, states Nightingale, for in a novel, the heroine has generally no family ties (almost invariably no mother), or, if she has, these do not interfere with her entire independence (ibid., p. 397); and the reader can dream. Women thus ‘wish their lives away’ because their daily existence denies them purpose, meaning, commitment, aspirations and action. They simply exist to cater for the psychological and physical needs of men and are permitted no life of their own. 'Passion, intellect, moral activity — these three have never been satisfied in a woman', says Nightingale. ‘To say more on this subiect would be to enter into the whole history of society, of the present state of civilisation' (ibid., p. 398), for women are given neither time, opportunity nor sanction to develop their own resources for themselves. (Mary Beard, 1946, had a great deal more to say on this subject.)

'Women are never supposed to have any occupation of sufficient importance not to be interrupted, except "suckling their fools", she continues, and women themselves have accepted this, have written books to support it, and have trained themselves so as to consider whatever they do as not of such value to the world or to others, but that they can throw it up at the first "claim of social life". They have accustomed themselves to consider intellectual occupation as a merely selfish amusement, which it is their "duty" to give up for every trifler more selfish than themselves (Strachey, 1928, p. 401).

So she continues, explaining why it is in a sense, women do not exist as individuals, why it is that women cannot pursue any intellectual activity, systematically, why it is that women's time is not considered valuable, and why it is that they do not have any. 'Women never have half an hour in all their lives (excepting before or after anyone is up in the house) that they can call their own, without fear of offending or of hurting someone' (ibid., p. 402), for they must always be available. And 'for a married woman in society, it is even worse. A married woman was heard to wish that she could break a limb that she might have a little time to herself. Many take advantage of the fear of “infection” to do the same' (ibid.).

Florence Nightingale gives every indication that she understands why the two sexes are required to behave in the manner that they do, and why it is that women's loss is men's gain. If it was this aspect of the woman question that she had in mind when she stated that she didn't expect much from the vote, her assessment was completely justified and her conventional portrayal as anti-feminist is then cast in a very different light. The changes that she sought (and which to some extent she managed to procure for herself — as did Harriet Martineau) were so radical that there was little likelihood that the vote would have been of much assistance in bringing them about.”

-Dale Spender, Women of Ideas and What Men Have Done to Them

#dale spender #florence nightingale #womens history #feminist history #reluctant motherhood #female oppression #male entitlement

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Baby Fever!

HEADCANON

PAIRING: Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,046. 

SUMMARY: Baby fever strikes King’s Landing once more, although this time, its next victim is Aegon ii Targaryen, himself... And he blames/thanks you entirely. 

WARNINGS: breeding kink to the max, lactation kink, DILF!Aegon, swearing, NSFW, mentions of male masturbation, mentions of p in v sex, mentions of dark!Aegon, swearing, degradation kink. 

A/N - it’s coming to 3am for me, and I literally just wrote this fic about Aegon with baby fever. nothing more or nothing less, but it’s everything <3 thanks to @bibli0thecary ‘s ask, I cannot get this DILF out of my mind, so consider this a request fulfilled!!!  

let me give this man all their heirs in the world, please. ps I’m sorry, I just found the gif so relative here. please Sir, teach me SEX ED. 

Aegon has breeding kink written all over him: when he meets his significant other, that’s enough to set it off. 

He was never that warm to the idea of having his own offspring, and yet, the possibility stirred in the pit of his stomach and top of his twitching cock when seeing you. 

If anything, he approaches it more as a feral need to claim you, to have some sort of possession over you, rather than actually fulfil the obligation/responsibility of having a family, nor wanting one of his own free will. 

He was actually quite reluctant to the idea of fatherhood, considering his own experience with Viserys was one he had grown to detest, turning him off from the entire concept. 

That was until he stumbled across you playing around with his toddler nephew, Joffery and a few other younger, highborn children of the royal court. Often the older women, busy in gossip and wine, would leave their children from the younger women to babysit: often reasoned with the logic that it ought to prepare the maidens of the court to motherhood. 

Seeing how maternal you seemed, watching you intently from a distant, the children seemed to favour you, playfully engaging with you, the innocent sight warmed Aegon’s heart

A dull throb pulsating in his hard cock. 

If it was heirs his Council wanted, heirs he would provide only if you would be the one to birth them. 

Soon enough, he found himself mindlessly masturbating to the thought of you swollen with his babes, your tits tender and plump with the milk,  naturally made in preparation in the months coming, dripping from your sensitive nipple, practically overflowing. 

Seeing the milk unnaturally leak, as you beg for him to latch and suck, desperate to relieve the heaviness and tension in your breast. He was certain he would suck you dry, before the babe is even born.  

And the idea of fucking you some more, even whilst evidently pregnant, knowing that despite being full of him already, he could still pump his seed inside, plugging you up completely, as his seed spills out, you just helplessly groaning and moaning for relief. 

The scene replaying in his mind, he often overcame with excitement, furious at himself for wasting is potential seed, that he could’ve wilfully secreted in you instead. 

Dark!Aegon would no doubt, force himself onto you, using his political/social position in the realm as an advantage, you either agree and “allow” him to fuck you until you grow and swell great with his child, or you refuse and he confines you to his chambers himself, or more so his bed, thrusting his girthy, throbbing cock inside, stretching you out until he sees his bulge deeply buried peaking atop, pumping his load inside, until he feels completely drained and you teeming. 

Although (fanon) Aegon, would lure you, growing impatient by the second however, he often becomes abrupt, wishing to hasten you into the act of consummating. Now that the betrothal is settled and finalised, you feel no need to wait, you figure he is to be your husband soon enough regardless. 

“I’m going to fuck you full, filled to the brim of my seed, until I feel my son or daughter kicking from within.”

“The idea of your belly swollen and heavy, back just aching from carrying my babes all day long, begging me to carry you, like a lazy whore.” 

“And fuck these tits will grow abundantly with your sweet, motherly milk. Nourishing my babes, like the good Mumma that you are. Perhaps, I ought to treat myself to your treacly taste, I do deserve it. I am the one responsible for doing this to you, you will do well to remember that, wife.”

“I need you to fuck a babe into me, Aeg. Make me a Mumma, I’ll have as many bubs as you want, just like that.”

“Perhaps enough babes to repopulate Old Valyria, restore it with our bloodline.”

“You’ll be the prettiest, most stunning Mumma I ever did see, and it’s all my undoing... Look at you all needy for my cock, desperate for me to spill my cum inside of you, such a fucking whore for me.”

He’d be so touchy and feely with your changing body: a hand constantly on your bump, feeling the babe beneath move against their father’s familiar touch. 

Even his voice would earn some haste movement or kicking, always earning a heartfelt smile from him.

He’d always be embracing your body, a hand snaked around your soft, wide waist/hips, even groping your ass. 

He thrives having you sit on his lap throughout your pregnancy,  squirming to get comfortable, grinding against him, you can feel a dense, aching bulge beneath your ass cheeks. Initially, you advise against it “Aeg, I’m heavy now, you won’t like it.” “Try me baby, just sit.”

Aegon would be against anyone trying to touch your belly, besides the maester and his mother: “everyone else can fuck off, there is no need for them to touch you at all.”

He is greatly entertained by the sight of seeing you waddle around the castle, knowing it was his undoing, a hand instinctively cradling your belly, almost as if you’re in a protective mother mode. 

The idea that you’ve outgrown your maiden gowns, because of his babe growing healthily inside, it pleases him.

At first you feel self-conscious of your pregnant / post-partum body, yet Aegon is swift to squash your doubts: “if anything Y/N, you look the sexiest pregnant, fuck it makes me feral, baby.” 

Nonetheless, Aegon’s dream much like his predecessor to conquer, became a reality. 

Soon enough, you’d given birth to multiple, healthy children, all close in age, for Aegon struggled to contain himself. Having to remind himself upon each birth, you required some time for recovery. As soon as the maesters deemed fit, he would be on you. 

Eventually, he grew familiar to the role of fatherhood, and became more and more comfortable with each new addition. 

He loved his children equally, tougher on the boys although, he has a softer spot for his little daughters, spoiling them endlessly. 

In return, the children love you both dearly, thankful for you to be their mother, and Aegon their beloved father. 

general taglist - @evenstaris​ @chompchompluke​ @fan-goddess​ @malfoytargaryen​ @ilikeitbetterangsty​ @bibli0thecary​ @m1ndbrand​ @connorsui​ @teamaemond​ @elegantsplendour​ @randomdragonfires​

Aegon taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter​ @sylas-the-grim​

#aegon ii targaryen #tom glynn carney #TGC #aegon ii targaryen imagines #aegon ii targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii targaryen fluff #aegon ii x fem!reader #aegon ii x y/n #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd imagines #daddy!Aegon ii #dad!aegon ii

[amerricanartwork]

RW Headcanon: How Arti Gives Back

In the RW community on this site, I’ve heard quite a few Artimand thoughts about how Gourmand would help Artificer heal from her trauma and grief. And while that’s all good, something that’s continuously puzzled me when shipping Artimand romantically is, “but how would Artificer help Gourmand?”

Let me tell you, one of my all-time favorite qualities in a ship is the characters helping each other improve themselves, especially in ways no other character pairing can. And while it’s easy to see Gourmand helping Artificer improve, given the vast amount of grief and lust for vengeance she has to overcome, and since Gourmand probably has a natural inclination to help others in need, what would she give to him in return? And to add to that, why would Gourmand fall in love with her and choose her as a mate, as opposed to just casually looking out for her and straight pitying her at worst, especially when she’d most-likely appear very un-qualified for romance initially?

Well, I’ve developed some thoughts and headcanons for that, and I’ll put them below the cut! Please let me know if anything could be improved, or if you can add to it! I’d love more reasons to think of these two sweethearts!

Option 1: Combat

Arti would help Gourmand improve his combat skills. The way I see it, Gourmand is a very strong warrior, but doesn’t often engage in combat simply because he doesn’t see a need for it outside of defense. Even then, due to his kind nature, he typically only fights back enough to deter predators, not kill them. However, with Arti being a carnivore, and having LOTS of experience with more complex combat situations than just defense (mostly from scav encounters), I like to think that Arti would give Gourm more combat tips and they may even end up bonding on occasional hunting trips together. And it would circle back to Arti because Gourm, with his cooking skills, would make the resulting meals from their hunts taste SO much better than what Arti is used to, allowing her to slow down and really enjoy food in a way she hasn’t been able to with her warrior lifestyle!

Option 2: Motherhood

This one’s pretty self-explanatory. Given Arti was a mother once, and Gourmand’s story ends with him getting 2 pups, I could easily see him wanting Arti to stay around to act as a mother for them. Not only would that give her the chance to embrace motherhood again, but it would take some pressure from Gourmand because he has a partner (and an experienced one at that) to help him with parenting! I mean, don’t get me wrong, Gourmand is undoubtedly great with pups, but even so it’s good to have some help! Even more so since (depending on what general age you headcanon the pups as) he’d likely have to leave his pups alone while getting food; it’d be nice to have someone with her own experience caring for pups who can look after them during those times and, to add onto the first option, even help teach them how to hunt and survive on their own!

And heck, I personally actually like to imagine that, a little later, after she gets comfortable enough and fully overcomes her grief, Artificer would actually have a second litter with Gourmand (naratively-speaking, this would signify the completion of her character arc)! Of course it’d be a big deal for Arti, but just imagine how much fun Gourm would have exploring the new experience of getting to raise biological pups this time! And I can just see him being so, so thankful that Arti somehow managed to give him even more family to love!

Option 3: Passion

So this one’s the most personal-headcanon-based, and built off my personal depiction of Gourmand as a character. In my headcanon, Gourmand starts out as a rather reluctant leader of his colony. I have this whole idea of what specific event led to him becoming the leader, but to summarize, it seemed like a very sudden chance event at the time, yet from it he was more-or-less unanimously chosen to lead by the other Outer Expanse slugcats due to him having shown great creativity, survival skills, and protectiveness. Gourmand himself, however, doesn’t really feel he’s fit to be a leader; he’s used to an easygoing life just peacefully surviving and doing his own thing, not managing and defending an entire colony! He’s so used to seeing the simple parts of the world that he often underestimates himself, so something as “grand” as leadership often appears too great for him.

That’s where Arti comes in. I like to imagine that Artificer is extremely passionate, but that for a long time after her pups’ deaths, that passion was manifested almost exclusively as immense rage, grief, and desire for revenge against their killers. But imagine if, once she gets comfortable with Gourmand’s colony, she begins to show that passion in positive emotions! Not only would she, after seeing what he’s capable of in hunts, help him see that he IS the perfect leader for his colony, but just IMAGINE: Arti hyping Gourm up as the biggest, strongest warrior in the Expanse, just before the two prepare to take down a king vulture; or Arti patching him up after a really tough battle and assuring him he’ll be even better next time; or Arti teasing Gourm and them chasing each other around as they spar together in the OE fields; or Arti getting all dramatic as she recites tales of her epic scavenger battles to his eager pups; or Arti showering Gourm with kisses after he makes a REALLY good meal with her favorite meats!  There are SO many possibilities for hypeman Arti, and I figure that, once Gourm sees her fiery spirit used in a positive way, especially to help him and his family, he can’t help but fall for her! And this idea is part of why I like the Spicybun ship name so much - while Gourmand helps Arti mellow out, Arti literally spices up his life! They just compliment each other so perfectly!!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

MAN do I love these two so much! This is about all I have right now on this subject, but again, I’d LOVE to hear any other ideas for how Artificer would help Gourmand, or additions to these ideas! I just adore the “opposites attract” ship trope (although I personally prefer to call it “inverses attract”), and I think Artimand is easily one of the best examples of that in Rain World! 

Thank you to anyone who made it to the end of this wall of text! And let me know if I should share any more Rain World headcanons, because I’ve definitely got more!

Oh, and if you've found this, @melissa-titanium, hope you like it again! Let me know if you ever want me to stop @-ing you with these Artimand headcanons, by the way!

#art #artwork #sketch #doodle #digital #digital art #fanart #rain world #rw headcanons #shipping #rw shipping #slugcat #rw slugcat #artificer #rw artificer #gourmand #rw gourmand #artimand #rw spicybun #rw barbecue #quetzalli draws #quetzalli pairs #quetzalli headcanons #honestly though girls giving their boys some sweet loving is a fancy of mine for all my favorite ships #i just think arti would be especially passionate about it #in like a “YEEEAAAHHH!! That's my husband!!!” kinda way

[neuroprincess]

His Favorite Person - Melissa Schemmenti/Female Reader

Melissa Schemmenti/Female Reader

Summary: The moms are going through a difficult time with LuLu's first teeth and a hero comes to the rescue.

Classification: Fluff

Warnings: Well, some realistic motherhood, it's not all flowers. Also, FRIENDSHIP GOALS

Word count: +2100

Unrevised 

Six months went by in the blink of an eye and with it many challenges of first-time motherhood, the moms could barely breathe properly until the month mark, Luca is very smart and, despite his strong personality, didn't give as much trouble as expected. The redhead is in love with those squeezable cheeks and chubby little doll hands, the loud giggles are the highlight of her days, as well as Y/N's. But the relief and sense of stability has gone as quickly as it arrived, one day the baby is all smiles trying pasta, the next so fussy that getting him to eat becomes a mission impossible. So a week goes by that they would describe as hellish, not only because of the problems with feeding and the understandable irritability due to teething, but also because of the suffering shared with all the pain the boy is going through with the new phase, gums tearing and keeping him awake all night mumbling and feverish, causing general concern. On Friday, they're not sure whether or not to host the weekly couples' dinner; before it can be cancelled, Barb and her husband appear at the door with a pan in hand, worried looks on their faces followed by muffled laughter. At work, Melissa had already been seen with bite marks and obvious signs of not sleeping, the woman just didn't imagine it would be chaotic to the point of leaving her, literally, dishevelled.  

"Where's my handsome little boy?" she greets LuLu excitedly and reaches out to take him from the younger's tired arms "What happened to make you cry, my dear?" and wipes the tears drying on his rosy little face, immediately noticing the high temperature "Poor thing..."  

"Sorry about our condition, I was going to call you to cancel, but we were trying to get the fever down and completely forgot." the teacher whispers, staring at the scene in amazement, the moment her son clings to the friend he stops crying immediately, doesn't seem to be the same little monster who defeated her in exhaustion minutes before "What a sly one! Do you see that?!" she points out indignantly. 

"Well, it's not my fault I'm the favorite." Barbara jokes and walks past them into the house, unsurprised to see a dozen toys scattered around the living room, the kitchen a complete mess, dirty dishes in the sink, open packets and cubes of frozen fruit on the counter, a doctor's recommendation for relief "Kid, was that all you?!"  

"He's a Schemmenti." Gerald jokes, following along, leaving the pie on the nearest surface "How many hours did you sleep today?"  

"Maybe three... or four." the timetables jumble in Y/N's head, she can't remember what time they went to sleep or how many times she woke up in the middle of the night.  

"And it's been the longest night's sleep so far," adds the other, rubbing her eyes.  

"You're clearly not well, why don't you try having a decent bath and getting some sleep while we take care of everything?" he offers, starting to gather up teddy bears and small cars on the carpet.  

Surprised and grateful, the couple exchange glances at this generous offer; the idea of being able to take a bath for more than five minutes, plus a little rest, is tempting, but they are reluctant to let them deal with it instead.  

"Go on, get some rest!" the man insists, shooing them away with a hand wave "We'll take care of everything." 

"Are you sure?" Melissa asks with concern, it seems like a lot to do or maybe she's mentally overloaded to the point where doesn't want someone else to do something she considers an exclusive responsibility "I mean..."  

"Don't be stubborn." Barb interrupts her and goes into the kitchen, putting Luca in the highchair, he doesn't even grumble about not being on lap "Take advantage of our presence until he gets sick of us, this phase is terrible." 

The redhead raises her hands in surrender and Y/N exhales satisfied, tired to the bone, nursing a baby full time takes a lot of time, energy and attention, she can hardly imagine the state of her wife who works all day at school and still tries to give the same support as best she can.  

Looking at Luca, who is calmly sitting down and taking the previously rejected piece of fruit into mouth, Melissa finally gives in.  

"All right, but please call us if anything happens."  

Everything goes very quickly and on autopilot. Before they realise it, the pair find themselves under the shower's hot water, washing each other's hair and sharing non-sexual cuddles, satisfying their longing for quality time together. Motherhood is deep, rewarding and valuable for both, a priority that has guided the small family's decisions and routine, little by little intimacy has been put aside amid the daily demands. They don't blame anyone or anything but the circumstances, they've read that it could happen at a certain point, all the nuances it would bring and they haven't forgotten their promise to stay together, to say "I love you", all the possible clichés to get through the storm without shaking marriage.  

The teacher couldn't hold back a moan on entering the room, every muscle relaxed and the tension drained away, there was a calming sensation, she felt refreshed from the tip of the toe to the last strand of hair. Y/N can say the same, she never thought that a simple shower could feel like a full SPA, even with a massage, she barely lays down on the bed properly and already feels soft hands rubbing damp skin. There are soft smiles, some mischievous, strong fingers squeezing sensitive spots that manage to elicit the happiest sighs, occasionally there are teasing touches and loving bites.  

"Years of relationship and still doves in love." they are surprised by Barbara's sudden appearance, they didn't hear her push the door slightly open "I've brought dinner and some tea."  

She lifts the tray with caprese chicken sandwiches, pieces of pie, red fruit and camomile tea, would offer whisky if it wasn't for breastfeeding, she knows they deserve it when they go through the chaotic teething process, the girls were relatively calm and yet almost destroyed the house when they got their first set of tiny sharp teeth.  

"Get fed and try to rest for a few hours." she put it between the couple "Let's do the same with the little one, he's already struggling to keep eyes open. You deserve a decent night's sleep."  

"So true, I look like a different person now, imagine when I finally get some sleep." the redhead jokes before taking a generous bite of bread, her last meal having been lunch "Delicious!"  

"Did LuLu give you and Gerald much trouble?" the younger smiles fearfully and sips the hot liquid "No crying, no grumbling, no breaking things, maybe we're in a dream."  

"No, he was a little angel... except with Gerard when he tried to give him a piece of cut mango, I'm pretty sure he was trying not to bite him." she confesses the last part in a whisper, they laugh well aware of the implication "He's jealousy incarnate."  

Melissa tosses her hair to side, her expression proud, needless to say he inherited it from her and everyone knows it.  

"Mel once threatened to bite someone." she adds, explaining her friend.  

"And I did." she says even more proudly, the person deserved it.  

"Unbelievable!"  

After all, Y/N still finds herself amazed by her adventures and oddities, she knows half of the stories from others, as the woman hardly ever brags about her achievements. Conversation doesn't last long, minutes later Gerald appears too, Luca agitated in his arms and ready to attack anyone who annoys him, just push at the edge a little. The youngest mother mentions getting up to intervene, only to be stopped by a sign from Barb, who picks him up without a second thought.  

"No, you need a bit of time to yourselves." she reinforces and sets the boy on his feet, kissing the cheeks, leaving a lot of lipstick marks "Today we're going to give them a break, aren't we, cutie?!" 

As if he knew what the topic was, he tries to answer in babbles, all the adults smile at such cuteness. Within seconds he is no longer irritated, an effect that only the one and only Barbara Howard has. She strokes the coppery hair, making him close the eyes immediately, an adorable giggle as he snuggles into her chest, little legs wiggling with joy.  

"I'm starting to be offended by this more than obvious preference."  

"I never tire of saying it, it's not my fault that I'm his favorite person." she shrugs and stands up, stroking the baby's back over the newly laid pyjamas, she inhales the sweet smell, delighting at the contact, her daughters are grown up now and the times when she could lovingly hold them all the time without protest are gone "LuLu and I will see you tomorrow." 

She bends him over so that the mums can kiss him goodbye, but by this point Luca is already unconscious, losing the long and stubborn battle against sleep.  

"Sorry, I'm going to have to say it, I LOVE YOU BARB!" Y/N sighs in pleasure and gives a grateful kiss, then throws herself against the mattress, clinging to the soft blankets "Nothing can convince me that it's not a dream."  

"She needed it too, badly." Melissa reflects and moves closer to the friend, stroking her son's face affectionately "I really appreciate and am very grateful for what you're doing for us, being a mother has been intense and unexpected, we're lucky to have a support like you and Gerald, it's something I never expected in my life. The only reason I'm probably not crying right now is because tiredness overcomes even the tears." she jokes, wrapping her in a tight hug between loving smiles. 

"There's nothing to be thankful for, I love our little prince and that's what friends do."  

The door closes, Howard takes him to the nursery and they wait for a cry or any negative reaction, but the only noises to be heard are footsteps echoing down the corridor and the man humming while doing the housework. They smirk, silence has never been more appreciated than at this moment. The teacher lies down next to her wife, hands running along her robe-covered waist, fingertips brushing exposed skin, mouth meeting the back of neck, leaving a lingering kiss, the younger laughs, turning so that they are face to face, then leans in to bring their lips together.  

"I think we should kidnap Barb." Y/N proposes with a grain of truth.  

"We need to do that, cara mia! I'll take her down and you tie her up, deal?" 

"Deal! But what about Gerald?" she jokes.  

"He can survive without her, we can't."  

"I can't believe we're going to sleep properly, I'm so excited that sleep has fled." she confesses eventually, feeling a new wave of energy coming from nowhere "It's so strange not having anything to do."  

"That's because you're overwhelmed, principessa." Melissa props herself up on elbows so that she's partially seated, the hand that rests on the waist wanders down her curvaceous body and stops at the face she loves so much to see when waking up, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear "But we have this evening to ourselves. God, they're being real heroes today."  

"Yes! I swear that when she took LuLu in the arms I saw her in costume and cape for a millisecond."  

"And he simply stopped crying, it's like she has superpowers."  

"Or she's just his favorite person... in the whole world." Y/N leans over and kisses her, a consolation prize for what she's going to say next "I'm sorry, darling, but that's the truth. You've lost your place to Barb."  

"At least I'm still your favorite?" the redhead makes those abandoned puppy dog eyes, feigning sadness.  

"Always, hottest biter in the world."  

The lights are switched off, they move closer in the soothing darkness and cuddle affectionately, wrapped in the comfort of being in the arms of the one they love. Sleep gradually comes, accompanied by the previous worries about Luca, if he's managed to eat properly, if he's hydrated enough, or if he's lain down in the right position.  

"I can hear your thoughts, Mel."  

"I'm sorry, amore mio." she whispers, a little thoughtfully. Despite her religious upbringing, she's not a fan of most traditions, so baptism hasn't crossed her mind until now, as she watches her best friend and confidant win over her son with her mere presence, creating a beautiful bond "What do you think about inviting Barb to be LuLu's godmother?"  

"Perfect! We couldn't find anyone better than her."

taglist: @opheliauniverse @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @wastdstime @scarr0713 @geekyandgay98 @dvrkhcld @heidss @esposadejoyhuerta @xvyzxx @quailbagutte @imaginesmultifandoms @ctrlamira @milffilm @taurus-baby-34 @prentiss-theorem @josephinevr @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @grandtacoranchnickel @multifandomlesbianic @serendipitouswanderer @louderfortheback @h-doodles @Hotdoggitydammit @peggy082023 @le0vo1dz @lilfartbox1 @imgayforwoman69 @janeyseymour @hwppnes @storiesofsvu @zacs-obsessed @evilaam @evattude

Join my taglist here ^^

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #female reader #abbot elementary #fluff #schemmenti family

[comradekatara]

katara toph foils time!!!!!!!

(id under the cut because it's too long for alt text)

ID: image of a deconstructed venn diagram in which toph is on one side and katara is on the other.

below an image of toph from "the runaway" a bulleted list of green text reads:

– materially spoiled, emotionally oppressed – gender noncomforming, finds femininity stifling – comes from repressive household, thus thinks that respecting an individual’s capabilities and self-sufficiency is the correct approach to teamwork – considers vulnerability a weakness – wants to distance herself from her mother’s legacy – resents father’s repressive control – marginalized due to ableism

below an image of katara, taken from the same frame, a bulleted list of blue text reads:

– emotionally spoiled, materially oppresed – enjoys performing femininity despite resenting/resisting patriarchal oppression – comes from communal society, thus thinks that helping others and expecting their help in return is the correct approach to teamwork – knows that there is strength to be found in vulnerability – wants to honor her mother’s legacy – resents father’s reluctant abandonment – marginalized due to imperialism

below and in between both columns a bulleted list of turquoise text reads:

– the most headstrong, stubborn girls on the planet – feel stifled by/hate deferring to authority, first instinct is to resist and rebel – think committing crimes that endanger themselves and others is fine as long as it’s morally justified – complicated relationship to motherhood – resentful of father – best benders of their respective elements in the whole world – incorporate each other’s bending styles into their techniques – often underestimated due to how they are socially perceived – have something to prove to their families and to the world – love fun, mischief, hijinks, tomfoolery (both violent and benign) – hate being denied or criticized in any way – hate being reminded of their limitations – quick to anger, always lash out at the slightest provocation – easily wins every fight they’re in, except for with each other – perfectly evenly matched

#katara #toph #katara&toph #analysis #i shouldve made this post years ago. oh well. no time like the present

[vicioux]

ICHIHIME FIC RECS

i can't believe i've been reading ichihime fanfics for literally 10 years ✌️ my favorite flavor is definitely pining with a touch of angst, but i am also a sucker for just them giggly all over each other! thank you bleach TYBW anime revival for bringing me back to these two cutie patooties and an even bigger thank you to all the writers that have been keeping the fandom alive all these years (especially in the earlier days back in the wild wild west of ff.net and LJ lol) y'all are amazing 💖 happy reading everyone p.s you can find the rest of my fic rec lists here

🍓 alternate universe 🍞

THE BRIDE OF THE DEATH GOD by caledon A plague descended upon the village, and to appease the God of Death they offered him a bride as a sacrifice.

THE DEVIL'S PLAYTHING by marshmallowbirb High-schooler Kurosaki Ichigo discovers that he isn't as human as he once thought - and neither is his classmate, Inoue Orihime.

THE RELUCTANT BRIDEGROOM, DEATH by marshmallowbirb On a sunny summer morning, the young goddess Orihime gathers flowers on a hillside.

STARCROSS'D by child of the ashes In the vampire palace of Los Noches, there is no greater curse than beauty, and no greater crime than love.

NEXT VISIT by aurona x She can see him only with autumn comes, that man of the deep blue tree. And over the years, her love for him grows.

MOTHERHOOD by ashe flyght Orihime's family is financially unstable. So when Japan's most in demand actor, Kurosaki Ichigo offers her an unusual job will she accept it?

FINE LINES by lastlynotleast Ichigo is a tattoo artist and Orihime has skin he could draw on forever.

🍓 multichapter 🍞

THE BOND BETWEEN US by ritsu-san Post Ch. 352: Ichigo and Orihime are left to figure out this strange bond they share.

TIL DEATH DO US PART by marshmallowbirb Deemed too powerful, Ichigo is sequestered in Soul Society after defeating Aizen. Ten years later, one of his human friends dies.

THE CLOCKWORK SWITCH by sesamerolls (1 // 2 // 3) “Kurosaki-kun?” She wanted to bite back her words. This person couldn’t be him. He was a few inches taller, broader, and manlier than the youth who gave her daifuku just minutes before.

🍓 oneshots that will make you feeeeel 🍞

DEMAGNETIZE by ghosty If opposites attract, then what does that mean for us?

TACTILE by mrhooty Orihime has accepted that her boundaries will never be respected, but Ichigo is too good of a friend to allow that.

AFFIRMATION by sesamerolls Ichihime from the beginning to the end.

HOME IS WHERE THE SUN SETS by awkwardspaceturtle Using the word ‘beautiful’ didn’t seem like enough; nothing he could ever say out loud would tell her how she really looked in his eyes.

BUILD A HOUSE IN PARADISE by zabiume Ichigo and Orihime move in together.

PAPER HOUSES by zabiume Mostly, he just wanted to know if she was okay, if she was eating well and passing her courses and if, when she went to bed at night, she had someone to smile about.

PROMPTFILL by zabiume Truth serum induced angst.

PROMPTFILL by captainrukias-husband Ichigo writes a poem for Orihime.

TEMPTARE BEAST by mayelisa As Orihime watched in horror as Ichigo took on that form again, she had a sinking feeling that this day wouldn't turn out at all like she had planned.

MEMORIES IN THE RAIN by garden of magnolias If I were the rain, could I connect with someone's heart, as the rain can unite the eternally separated earth and sky?

ALWAYS SUMMER by folle Orihime is calling, calling, and Ichigo doesn't know how to not answer, except in the most important way.

BECOMING WHOLE by lovelycollision He loves her in various ways, during different stages of his life. It's after the war when he realizes that he's in the third stage, otherwise known as the beginning.

🍓 outside POV looking in 🍞

ELEVATING by sesamerolls “Okay, let’s theoretically agree Ichi-nii has a girlfriend,” said Karin, resting her palm underneath her chin.

SIMPLY BY MEASUREMENT by sesamerolls When it first began, he pretended not to notice.

PROMPTFILL by scribblles Ichigo screwed up his befuddlement into a distinctly grumpy expression. “For your information, I wasn’t daydreaming, I was thinking. Worrying, actually. And it’s about a friend. Who… happens to be a girl.”

🍓 funny fluffy oneshots 🍞

OF MICE AND MEN by garden of magnolias Ichigo realizes that getting rid of a mouse in his and Orihime's apartment is a lot more complicated when it involves his girlfriend.

I REJECT! by scribblles Keigo has a rare moment of inadvertent correctness.

RUMOUR HAS IT by fictionaryplace Ichigo and Orihime have important news, but decide to have a little fun with their friends and family before coming clean.

DELAYED REACTION by crystal dawn Orihime is feeling under the weather. Against his better judgment, Ichigo suggests she visit his father's clinic.

ICED FRAPPUCCINO by hedonysms Ichigo and Orihime get a coffee. Ichigo is simultaneously an emotional sap and a horny, utterly repressed man.

STARTING FRESH by kay sincere Ichigo doesn't have a resolution for the new year himself. But it does come to his attention that his friends could use his help.

NOSEBLEED by deathberryhime Where that little smile would have done more damage than intended to.

OUR BREATHS IN PERFECT HARMONY by iwillhaveamoonbase When Ichigo's friend talks about a cute girl at a bakery, Ichigo agrees to introduce them with no idea that the girl in question is his girlfriend.

WELL WISHERS by adverb_slut It turns out that shinigami are not so great at gift-buying, especially for a four-week-old baby.

THE ART OF SHIPPING by alice hattercandy In which, everyone ships. Even Ichigo.

🍓 anything and everything by these authors 🍞

SESAMEROLLS CAPTAINRUKIAS-HUSBAND ZABIUME (tumblr // ao3) SCRIBBLLES CRYSTALDAWN / MARSHMALLOWBIRB (ffnet // ao3) ORIHIMES RITSU-SAN (more on their LJ sunburnt-wings) TRAGICOMEDY (more on their LJ explicates)

#ichihime #ichigo kurosaki #orihime inoue #ichigo x orihime #ichiori #bleach #bleach fanfiction #ichihime fanfiction #ichihime fanfic #ichihime fic #vicioux fic rec #fic rec #ficrec #fic recs #fic rec list #masterpost #masterlist #this was actually massive like 100+ but i couldnt wrangle all the links :c #logged into ffnet for this #i prefer reading on ao3 so linked there if crossposted

[mmorw]

Mom!Chae Yul being such a worried mom, promising how good he would be with the role and still being cruelly approached in the despair of motherhood.

Wife!Chae Yul being such a wonderful wife tho, receiving you at home with his usual smile; he loves you too much to put fights in between.

Wife!Chae Yul getting ready from the first moment you found his "little" room in the house where he had pictures of your different office mates marked with big red Xs, only to start crying so disturbingly and intrusively enough that the neighbors threatened to call the police for suspected abuse.

Mom!Chae Yul establishing such a loving and perfect bond with your first baby, thinking that with a baby he would became calmer and not so meticulously into your privacy; just so that in 15 years, you can see a younger version of Chae Yul just as obsessed with their future partner so as Yul was with you.

Mom!Chae Yul creating literally a younger version of himself. Your kid with 15 years old is such as beautiful as how Chae is; with their purple hair and big and perfect eyes, tall and pretty enough for any kind of person to stare at them.

“Bye mom, bye dad!” Your happy and sweet daughter smiled before kissing you and her mother's cheek, approaching to leave quickly with a smile from ear to ear.

“What's up with her?”You ask, looking back at Chae Yul as he hums with happiness, almost giving you a chill down your spine;

“She likes someone.”

Wife!Chae Yul looking pissed at the moment he brings the bento you felt home and see you talking to another girl; a nice woman who saved your ass by letting you copy one of her paperwork for the afternoon.

I know I said he didn't had time to fight with you. but he was furious, the moment what could be seen for the two of you, he threw himself into your arms and nearly threw a tantrum right there. When you got home, things would get ugly yk.

Wife!Chae Yul who loves to bake! he can make cakes, cookies and pies at every moment he can! Baking helps him too much to relax and have his hands on something other than fingering himself.

Of course, with a screen next to him while he sees all your movements at every moment of the day. ♡

Mom!Chae Yul just being a sick source of love to your kid, teaching them sick ways of how to love; even if it cost them their life.

Chae Yul came crying into the room as you pulled his arm brutally, pushing him onto the bed as he sobbed, his face red and eyes slightly swollen from crying.

“Now what the fuck, have you taught our son?”

Chae Yul's cries became louder, his hands pressed against his face as his body trembled; unable to look at you.

“Chae Yul.” You growled, still, Chae was reluctant to say anything; the waterfalls kept falling from his eyes, he looked so submissive and weak that it made you rethink if you really wanted to keep scolding him.

The verbiage you had directed at your son had not been entirely appropriate, not after summoning them to school for the rarely possessive behavior and obsession your son had developed toward who had been his romantic attraction.

You thought it would be child's play, a misunderstanding; but just getting to the house and the way you looked at Chae Yul, in the most disgusted and embarrassed way, you got him crying and trying to pounce on you to get your attention and try to excuse himself.

“I-I'm, hic sorryᅳ ” he stammered before turning his gaze back to you, the way he trembled and immediately held out his arms to you made you bite your lip; you didn't want to fall back into his arms. “darling..”

You gave a long internal sigh before hugging him tightly, feeling the desperation of his hands pressing into your clothes, drawing you closer and closer to him, sobbing as he did his best to want to be a part of you.

You cradled his head for a few seconds, listening to him calm down and stop shaking; Chae Yul snuggled into your body, relaxing into the comfort of being loved again.

you didn't wanted to fall back to his arms, right? but damn, from the moment he faked his pregnancy so you two get married and then become truly pregnant; you knew that with Chae Yul, there would be no escape in like, forever. lol

we love crazy ommas there.

#dom male reader #dom reader #sub Chae Yul #sub secret alliance #idk just chae mom 💗🫶

[goldenromione]

I have been mulling over this conversation about feminism, motherhood, and transphobia and I have a few things that I'd like to add, if you'll hear me out.

I don't think the OP was trying to discourage discussing sexism or police what anyone is saying. I think they were trying to raise a discussion about how when we discourage people from writing female characters (and especially Lily) as anything BUT a mother, it treads on this idea that a woman's value is intrinsically linked to motherhood.

And that is, unfortunately, a tactic that many individuals (including JKR) use to fuel transphobia. It might not make sense on the surface (it didn't to me at first) but transphobia is sometimes disguised as feminism. As something "protecting" women.

This is something that JKR specifically does. I'd highly recommend reading a bit on it. ContraPoints also has a really great video breaking it down on YouTube.

Please know that this is coming from someone who is a book HP, canon character fan, but one who puts the very real life impact that the author is having on very real life people above that. In the books, she has inextricably linked the "goodness" of characters to motherhood. And that's something that in real life, she has linked with feminism and then wielded against the LGBTQ+ community.

Look I understand where this is coming from, but I'm just extremely tired of this conversation being dumbed down to "should these characters be allowed to be mothers, or would that be anti-feminist/transphobic?" That was never the talking point.

We're talking about the ease in which fandom ignores and/or rewrites female characters into obscurity, and the reluctance for them to acknowledge and/or include them at all.

Framing it as us only wanting them to be included because they are meant to be mothers does this topic an incredible disservice.

#feminist talking points being used to fuel transphobia is not the fault of the feminist talking points #its the ones who use them that way #ask #anti marauders fandom #harry potter #hp

[oopsimbug]

in which… y/n is a sweetheart, but harry is an asshole

a/n: SHES HERE!!! SHES FINALLY HERE!!! IVE BIRTHED MY BABY!! PLEASE ENJOY!!

pairing: regency era! harry styles x reader, enemies to lovers

summary: think little women, but with you instead of jo and harry instead of laurie… but harry is an asshole…

warnings: harry is an ass, all enemies no lovers, smooching (but not y/n oOOOO)

word count: 13.2k (SHES A THICC ONE)

banner by the lovely @maysdigitalarts

The ballroom was positively alive. The elegant dresses, the beautiful makeup, the hair, the lights, the food. The cool summer night ensured that women didn’t sweat or shiver in their layered dresses. It was a tad bit stuffy in the actual ballroom, coated in the thick smell of powerful colognes and dainty sultry perfumes, but the air outside was clean and fresh, blooming with the clean aromatics of fresh dewy grass and elegant roses from the dozens upon dozens of rows of the flowers in the courtyard- here were so many batches of the flower planted everywhere that the entire border of the mansion held the powerful, yet lovely scent. Everything was perfect.

Or it would have been… if it wasn’t for the itchy card attached to Y/n’s wrist with a bit of ribbon through a punctured hole- a reminder that this night was not to admire the pretty ballroom, or meet new friends, or just dress up in a poofy dress for the heck of it. No, this was a feeding frenzy, and Y/n was perceived by most, if not all males in the room as a prize to be won. A lamb during hunting season. And the dance card only further illuminated her availability, as if it were a “for sale” sign. All of this work: the plucking, the waxing, the squeezing, the pulling- it was all to get dolled up for some egotistical jerk to come and sweep her off her feet. To “save her” from her life of normality and enslavement at her home with her parents and stay at his mansion and live the life of slightly more lavish enslavement with the bonus of motherhood (otherwise known as being forced to raise a male heir to the family fortune).

Not that she was against romance, don’t be mistaken. Y/n loved romance. She loved the idea of caring for someone so ardently that the thought of them bled into every moment of the day, no matter what she was doing, like a splotch of ink on a clear parchment sheet. The only difference was that she wanted a husband who in turn, would be just as ardently in love with her. To respect, love and cherish her just as much as she does for him. To ask for her thoughts, her ideas, her opinions, and not prance around declaring it’s his opinion that a woman was born into a life in the house.

But as the greasy Sir Davenport signed his name on the fourth line on her dance card, kissed her hand (to her reluctance), and allowed her to excuse herself, she began to feel a bit hopeless with this ideal man she conjured in her imagination. All the men she had encountered that eve were boring and close-minded daddy’s boys, Davenport included, who decided that conversation of his father’s wealthy business and fortune were illuminating topics to discuss to a potential partner while dancing- which they most certainly were not, in her opinion. She didn’t want that- to live off another’s fortune at the price of listening to idiots like Davenport who lean in and tell her that their mother’s approved of their potential pairing- which he actually said during their interaction and was the catalyst of the sudden end to their conversation when Y/n had to leave, but not before she scoffed and shook her head at the man in awe of his stupidity. She deserved more than that.

Y/n would have continued her internal monologue of complaints and speeches of self-worth, but she was unfortunately interrupted by a man of violently short stature and fluffy blond hair slyly approaching her as if she were wild game in a forest that would run away if he made any sudden movements. She was already not impressed.

“Pardon me Miss, but I couldn’t help notice your beautiful face and your painful lonesome. Never to fear though, as I am here to alleviate the pain. Shall we dance? Or would you prefer we sneak away for a more private performance?”

Never had she met someone so crude and disrespectful. What was she, a piece of meat? Obviously, this boy’s mother had not taught him simple manners. Maybe the upfront, blue-eyed blondie who would explore the darkest of fantasies was some girl’s cup of tea (which was completely fine- you cannot help whom or what you are interested in, after all!), but it wasn’t Y/n’s. She needed respect, and this boy wasn’t giving it.

So, she attempted to decline in the most polite way possible while also establishing her unwillingness of a change of heart with further persuasion…

“I am sorry for your seemingly misunderstood perception of the situation, but I am not looking for either of those two options. Kindly, I would much rather be in my so-called “painful lonesome” than be held in the arms of you…”

Keyword: attempted.

“Now, if you will excuse me.” She ended with a small nod and curtsy so light it could have been mistaken for a glance down at the ground to fix the positioning of her foot in her uncomfortable heels for a split second. And with that, she walked off before the boy could reply, squeezing past all of the others in their gowns and suits, out of the opened doors and into the dark yet fancy courtyard garden, lit only with a few oil lamps (that didn’t do much, really) and the pale full moonlight, shining brightly in all of her majesty. Taking a right turn once through the door, she walked until she reached the end of the large stone patio, resting her arms on the thick smooth railing that outlined the balcony. She took a long look at the dance card on her hand, before ripping it off and letting it fall to the floor. Letting her eyelids fall shut, Y/n inhaled, allowing her lungs to be filled with the fresh, crisp, non-polluted air, before exhaling slowly. Eyes closed and guard lowered, she listened to the chirps of crickets and the distant chatter of people inside the ballroom. As a soft gust of wind blew by, she thought to the dance card on the floor at her feet- her sister, Liz wouldn’t have directly asked where it went, but if she had come home and not mentioned her reviews of the men she danced with, the sad look in her sister’s eyes would put her in an even worse mood than she already was in. So with a reluctant sigh, she opened her eyes and looked to the floor where the card was, only to see the clean blank cobblestone floor that she was standing on. Shit… the wind. It must have blown it away. She began to look around. Behind planters, in rose bushes- she was in the middle of looking under a seat where it could have been blown under when she felt the light from the moon no longer shining on her, but instead blocked by a large and tall shadow that stood over her and blocked her own.

Double shit.

She swears if it was  “Mr Would You Like A Dance?”, she would lose it…

Turning around and looking up, she couldn’t see the figure’s face, as it was not illuminated by any light, but they were most likely a man, despite the thinner and more delicate figure that was usually attributed to women, given away by the pant and waistcoat combination- though she must note that he was in a much more relaxed and less refined attire compared to the other men attending, who wore waistcoats, tailcoats, gloves and cravats, all accompanied with large shin-high boots instead of the simple dress shoes that Mr Mystery Man wore. It wasn’t “Would You Like A Dance”, nor anyone else she had previously talked to that night, but that didn’t ease her bubbling worries of what he could want from her, especially with her in such a vulnerable and compromising position. The man cleared his throat and finally spoke after a prolonged and quite awkward silence.

“Pardon me Miss, but I believe this is what you are looking for, correct?” He had a raspy British accent and held out in between his pointer and middle finger as if it were a scandalous cigarette he was offering to her, the small slip of paper she was on hands and knees for, ribbon and all. Y/n took the paper from his grasp, making a conscious effort not to touch his gloveless fingers, before looking at the paper. It was most definitely hers, with all four names signed. She looked back up at the man, his face still hidden in the darkness, although she was starting to adjust to it, and was able to make out a nose, lips and the whites of the man's eyes that she could make eye contact with. Finally, she realised how odd she must seem to this man, on her knees, gawking at him for doing her a favour. Well, why was he still standing there anyway? Her brain took a second to process the situation- she blamed the strange circumstances (which actually weren’t all that strange- she was looking for something and he found it), the nauseating cologne the man wore (which actually wasn’t nauseating at all-it was an earthy and slightly sweet fragrance that was ten times better than whatever the other men had worn inside the ballroom) and her slight lack in iron that delayed her thinking (which she used to blame all of her faults ever since she found out she was a tad deficient). What did this man want again?

Oh right! Say thank you!

“Thank you! So much. Uh- this indeed was what I was looking for.”

“You are very welcome, Miss,” he replies.

She nodded and gave a polite smile to the faceless man to send him off. But instead of walking away as she assumed he would, he stood where he was, not making any attempt to move. What more could this man want? She said thank you already! He answered her unspoken question by giving his hand out to aid her to stand again. Her smile dropped. Looking at it suspiciously in its ungloved nature, Y/n knew she probably should not take it. If someone saw they were holding hands without gloves, it could raise eyebrows. But, after weighing her options, she concluded that being discovered on her knees in front of a man would be much more catastrophic. So with that, she took his hand and allowed him to aid her in being lifted off of the cold stone floor. Now at her feet, she noticed that there was still a slight height difference between the two of them, but only slightly. It was still awfully dark, but now up closer, she could make out soft curls of hair of a darker shade, not completely sure if it was brown or black, but definitely on the darker side. Before she could inspect any further, she was snapped out of her daze by the realisation of both their intimate proximity and her hand still being in his. Why she was so intrigued by this man, she couldn’t answer. But though intrigued, she was still wary of him. Immensely wary.

She took her hand from his and brought it back to her side. She wished to break eye contact and look at the floor, but something inside of her, most likely the competitive part, told her to keep looking. She slightly squinted in suspicion at him as she took a large step back from him, not worrying about how animated and clear her emotions were on her face. She cleared her voice before attempting to end the interaction. “Well, thank you again, but I best be going.” And with that, she turned around and began to walk away from the mystery man who the moon chose to keep hidden, and back towards the ballroom where she was to be most likely approached by a Would You Like To Dance clone that would only insult her instead of allure her.

“Back to Davenport, I assume?”

She was immediately stopped in her tracks but did not dare turn around. What did Mystery Man just say?

Footsteps from his dress shoes began to echo closer and closer as he approached her and he continued. “I mean, judging by your face while you two were dancing, it seems you were having one hell of a time…” He was teasing- and she didn’t like it.

Y/n wished to turn around and yell at him already, but in fear of him seeing her stupid face so obviously soaked in the expression of embarrassment, she stayed with her back turned, curiosity niggling its way in and wondering what he would say next. She chewed her bottom lip and awaited further comment. His footsteps, though slow, kept moving towards her, and it was at that point she noted how far she was able to walk away from him in the short time of her escape, evidently desperate to move on from what would have been a small and awkward interaction if it hadn’t been for Mystery Man choosing to prolong it for some reason she could not understand.

“Waltzes can be quite intimate,” he continued. “Davenport sure wanted to get intimate with that kiss.” She could not tell where he was going with this, but she did not like it anyways. She waited for him to seal the final nail in his coffin before she began to chew him out ruthlessly and with zero regrets about the possibility of her maybe just misinterpreting his innocent curiosity and assumed it to be heartless teasing from a stranger. She balled up her fists and wished to God that he would seal his fate. Wished to God that he would go one step too far. Too many times had she been forced to bottle up her annoyance of the scoffable excuses for men that approached her that night, leaving her in the mood to tell a man off with no qualms- and the opportunity was blossoming like young flowers in spring.

“I’m having a hard time deciphering whether you would want to get intimate with him though. Care to help a stranger out?”  

That was it. She spun around, metaphorical guns at the ready to make this disgusting and shameless man wish he was never born and was greeted with…

With…

A man, of course. But that was not what surprised her. It was one: How close he was. The slow steps he took towards her must have been as large or larger than hers to reach the closeness he did in the moment, with his tall body only a step away from hers, and his head slightly lowered to get into her face more, with the warm breath exhaled from his nose slightly blowing onto her face. And that leads her to surprise number two: His face.

A sloped nose, high cheekbones, a strong chin, soft and plush taffy lips, the small graze of stubble that she could spot only from their close proximity- it was all very alluring, to say the least. Not to mention the pièce de résistance being his beautiful forest green eyes in a sweet almond-shape, graced with thick eyelashes and eyebrows, and finally, his short, smooth and glossy chocolate brown hair, styled in perfect yet effortless soft curls that nonchalantly flop on top of his head. He raised his hand to run his fingers through his hair to avoid a pesky curl from obscuring his vision as it was attempting to do as if it was longing to be closer to him.

She had to admit: he was handsome. Much more handsome than Davenport, that was for sure. But looks aside, the smug smirk on his lovely lips was enough to unpause the spell she was under and remember the circumstances of the situation. And with that, she jumped into action.

“How dare you think for even a second that you are in any place to critique the people that I dance with and wish to become intimate with? Have you no shame?” She did not step down, but instead jutted her head forward a bit with each exclamation, a habit of hers that usually worked with intimidating someone physically to move back, which she realised did not work for him- he simply stood where he was. Refusing to step back to create space and give him the idea that she was stepping away because she was intimidated, she continued her verbal attack instead.

“Your lack of decorum is appalling and I don’t even know who you are!” She quickly looked him up and down- sizing him up. “What is it with men believing that they can intrude and comment on every little thing women do, huh? And for your information, I would never wish to become intimate with Davenport, not that it is any of your business.” Temper fiery hot, she waited for whatever this handsome buffoon had to say to excuse himself.

What she didn’t expect was for him to smile at her in a warm sort of manner, eyes glimmering in the moonlight with some emotion Y/n couldn’t decipher. With a small giggle (which Y/n had to admit, was pretty cute), he held his hand out to her once again, and when Y/n looked at him, eyes squinted in suspicion once again, he explained.

“Would you honour me in a dance, Miss?” his voice held an air of lightness as if he was teasing again. Was he teasing? She couldn’t tell, but she still had some more anger in her, so she took it as an opportunity to bring down his ego a tad more.

“Well, I am delighted to inform you that I do not consort with and exchange dances with those who tease and mock me for whom I dance with, and ask silly questions about who I wish to be intimate with without me even knowing their name or vice versa.”

“My name is Harry, and yours is…” and with that, he swiftly but gently took her wrist that held her dance card tightly in a clenched fist, undid the tight hold her fingers had on it, and read the name on the top of the slightly crumpled card. “Y/n Y/ln. Now, will you dance with me, Miss?” His small smirk had grown into a full grin, apparently delighted and absolutely tickled pink with annoying Y/n. That cheeky little shit…

She took her hand back from his hold quickly before reattempting to shoot him down. “No, for I do not wish for others like you to pull me aside and ask me if I wish to be intimate with you as you have done.” She fires back.

“Well, what if we danced out here then, so as to not draw any attention towards us?”

What was this man's deal? Why was he so desperate for a dance? Why was he such a prick?

“No!” She hoped a clean shoot down of his proposal would end this, but simultaneously, she wished for it to continue too. Not only did she not want to go back inside, but this man was allowing her to take her rage out on him like an emotional punching bag, and instead of getting mad at her, he simply let it go, and even smiled at her- and his smile was quite pretty if she had to admit so.

“Why?” He was still smiling, as if he knew she would probably give in after the bickering- which she was still on the fence about. She liked how this man didn’t talk too much about himself and his daddy’s money, but it wasn’t a great replacement for him to be teasing her for the awkward dance with Davenport. Still, though he was very pretty, Y/n’s stubbornness was stronger than it… She hoped it was, at least.

“Because… there is no music!” It was the best excuse she could come up with, but of course, he had a remedy for that which not only solved the problem but riled her up even more.

He gave her an incredulous look, a single eyebrow raised in silence to enhance the fact that music was indeed playing by the live orchestra inside the ballroom, which seeped through the very open doors and bled into the courtyard. “Ma’am, you do hear the music that is playing at the ball we have both attended and are standing outside of right now, not more than a few metres away, don’t you?”

Her face morphed into the sheer expression of embarrassment- one she couldn’t hide from him by turning around this time. His stupidly handsome face waited for her answer in silence, only making her more embarrassed as the music kept playing. She let out a small sigh. “…Yes… I do”

He gave a long sigh and held his hand to his heart in fake relief, clearly making fun of her. “Thank God! Was worried about your hearing, love! Anyways, now that your not so horrid hearing is sorted, will you dance with me? You won't have to do a thing, pretty lady.”

What is his deal? Love? Pretty lady? Picking on her hearing (even though she probably set the teasing up with the not hearing remark)? Was he trying to do her head in? So enraged by his antics, that was exactly what she asked him.

“Love? Pretty lady? Atrocious hearing? Are you trying to annoy me to the point of oblivion? Do you even wish to dance, or does teasing me fancy you more?”

His eyebrows scrunched and his eyes squinted, mimicking the suspicious look she gave him earlier, and he attempted to bite down his glaring smile and pursed his lips but failed to conceal his delight as he resumed his torture.

“Huh. Miss, I am no detective, though it almost seems as if you are distraught by this? Would you wish for me to dance with you seriously? Is that why you are upset?”

“No! Why would I wish to dance with you? You have been nothing but annoying and ill-humoured to me. You yourself do not wish to dance with me, you just want to annoy and disturb me!” She began to turn around, now sick of the back and forth. If he was just going to toy with her, she was going to make sure he knew that she was above whatever tomfoolery he was engaging in. As she began to walk away, probably to her carriage which would take her home rather than back to the party- the fun had been sucked out of the evening- she heard his voice behind her.

“Wait! Wait… Miss, please wait a moment and listen!” His voice had an air of urgency, and she could hear him fast walking after her. Y/n quickly turned around, the force of it causing a whooshing sound in her ears and causing her large poofy dress (that she was quite fond of) to shift and sway before settling. Face scrunched up in a scornful expression, her voice was immediately snappy and defensive to match the look.

“What?! What more could you possibly want from me?” She huffed out. She was sick of him. The teasing was too stupid and childish now, and his very pretty face was no longer enough to mask his annoying personality- or at least that is what Y/n forced herself to believe.

He put his hands up in surrender, smiling again, but not in a smug way- it had evolved into a sweet small genuine smile that made her heart flutter. Screw him… and screw his perfect bloody face…

“I’ve told you already. A dance, miss. Just one dance…?” He put his hand out, eyebrow slightly raised and head tilted slightly, as if he was testing the waters to see if she would agree.

What was most frustrating about the situation was that Y/n was genuinely stumped by what she should do. He was a complete and utter pompous blowhard, but he was also so pretty! Decisions, decisions!

If she refused and went back home, she would be deflated and sour, but also buzzing with curiosity, wondering what he would have done or what would have happened.  If she did take him up for this dance, she could deduce whether he was a prick or just a little odd when speaking to women. If he was a sweetheart, well then that would be a win and maybe she would have a new friend to talk to during other balls and events. On the other hand, if he turns out to be a total prick, at least she would know for sure he was, and then she could go home in her sour mood she would have left with either way. It was clear what the solution was.

Unfortunately, while she was calculating all the possibilities in her head of what could happen if she took his hand, Harry's smile was slowly transforming into a smirk, eyes squinted, mirroring her earlier expression of suspicion. He looked her up and down as if he was investigating her, before speaking once more.

“Do you always investigate people with your eyes as if they are murderers? I can only imagine the heavy case file you must be conjuring up in your brain, what with all of the squinting and observing.”

She rolled her eyes at him- something that any other man would surely discipline her for, but Harry simply laughed it off. She liked that.

“Come on, Miss. It’s just a dance. No need to worry your pretty little head. Look, I promise there will be no funny business. I swear on my mother’s life!”  He exclaims as he puts his hand over his heart and the other one, solemnly swearing.

Y/n’s resolution was fading- far too quickly for this random good looking boy who decided that charming a girl equated making fun of her.

“Just… one dance?” she asked, holding out one finger to him to consolidate her understanding (and also to not seem too desperate).

“Just one, unless you beg for more” he retorted with a smirk.

Y/n rolled her eyes once more. Is this what lows she was willing to stoop down for? All for a boy with a pretty face? She found herself placing her palm in his large hand, and looked up at Harry expectantly, who held a large smug grin on his face.

Damn. Gave in too easily…

While bowing to her, he attempted to kiss her hand, but her reflexes were too sharp for his unexpecting lips, swiftly removing her hand from his hold. Still in bow with his hand in the same position, he looked up at her confused.

“One dance, not a dance and a kiss” she pettily observed, hands crossed and weight dropped onto one leg and hip.  

He scoffed, rolling his eyes, before returning to full stature. “Oh,  you are so right. How improper of me, Princess! Especially ungloved, by God, what would our parents think!” he sarcastically mocked before holding his hand out to her once more. “Shall we?”

She raised an eyebrow up and looked at him in an unimpressed manner, feeling a weird dropping feeling in her chest, though she held the unwavering visual frustration so as to not indicate to him in any way that she was not frustrated but in fact, nervous. She almost enjoyed the way he called her Princess, but again, he could never know that. She placed her hand in his once more, placing the other on top of his shoulder. She let out a little gasp as he placed his other large ring adorned hand onto her hip, ghosting it with a light caress first to indicate he was going to put his hand there before gently letting it grasp her. He began to sway and step, leading her in a lazy yet sweet waltz. They glided across the impromptu dance floor and Y/n had to admit; it was pretty nice. Definitely the best dance she had participated in all night. He didn’t attempt to engage her in boring conversation about how rich his father was, nor was he making any sleazy comments- or any comments for that matter. He was simply enjoying the moment, allowing her to enjoy it too.

Too soon, though, did the song end. They still held each other in the embrace while the orchestra took a small break. She didn’t want to pull apart from him- he smelt too good, and he was strong and commanding yet graceful and elegant. And though her ego would never allow her to apologise or take back her words of distaste for him spoken a mere few moments before, she had to admit that he was very good looking, and that their waltz together did soften the hatred for him.

“Miss…” his buttery smooth voice glided out from his mouth, the words and soft breath hitting her ear from their close proximity, causing her to shiver slightly. She didn’t know if he knew what he was doing to her, but she definitely hoped he didn’t.

“Yes?” She replied shakily, her heart stuttering against her will.

“Does this make up for my teasing earlier?” His voice was cheeky, and she could feel his smirk. Damn was he annoying- annoyingly cute, but annoying none of the less. She didn’t know how to answer him though- she didn’t want to give in and tell him he gave her butterflies, or that his neck, which smelt of cocoa and tobacco left her weak at the knees. His hands, adorned with rings, were large yet slender, holding one of her hands gently while the other rubbed her waist lightly, swirling in small circles that she could feel through the layers of her beautiful poofy gown that made her feel beautiful.

No, she couldn’t tell him that. He would tease her even more, or maybe leave, and she didn’t want that. No, she couldn’t act desperate. So she pulled away from his grasp, sighed and hit him with another exasperated look, eyebrow raised.

“You just can’t help but ruin the moment, can you?” She asked, no real ire in her voice, but certainly no sweetness either- it was a peeved tone. One that exactly matched her mood. Or at least, the mood she wished she felt, instead of the mushy feelings she held inside instead.  

He chuckled, head falling back slightly, mouth open as he let out tufts of laughter that Y/n wanted to collect with a cone to make a fairy floss cloud of his happiness- hers to keep after a carnival.

“It does, doesn’t it!? I can already feel us becoming closer, now that you like me!” He chirped, still smiling that million dollar smile.

She rolled her eyes again, but this time she was smiling- he was too charming for her to keep a straight face. She crossed her arms and began to walk towards the flowers planted at the end of the cobbled courtyard, sitting in large long stone planters shaped into intricate designs. Little flowers bloomed in pink and coral among the strong foliage of the healthy green leaves- begonias, if she wasn’t mistaken. She read about them in a little book about the language of flowers, which she found in Aisha’s bookstore, hidden under a powder of dust, showcasing its neglect, and the pain Y/n felt for the inanimate object caused her to buy the book before she even knew the content. And by reading the book, she knew that it was odd for the begonias to be planted. Though the language of flowers isn’t known by all, it striked her as odd for someone to have planted blooms that symbolises what they did- caution, a warning of wariness.

That’s odd…

And while she was carried away by this small detail, attempting to decipher what it meant, or if it meant anything at all, she didn’t notice the tall Brit wander over to her, hands behind his back and steps haphazard as he whistled an aimless tune, attempting to gain her attention. And though it didn’t work initially, once he eventually got to her, and peered at her face scrunched up in thought, his warm minty breath rolling over her in waves as he inhaled and exhaled shook her from her thoughts. Her head slowly turned until she fully faced him, eyes slowly meeting his, and she felt her heart begin to race as she realised how close he really was, once again invading her personal space without her batting an eyelid, too enamoured by his being to complain. He smiled a light smile, his eyes stuck on her lips, and for the first time, Y/n didn’t mind it. He wasn’t slimy the way other men were that evening. And yes, he teased her, but he also excited her. He was handsome and funny and charming as hell. So when he uttered his next sentence, Y/n was hesitant to let him down.

“Shall we go somewhere more private, Miss?” His voice rasped, causing her breath to hitch as he continued to stare his lips down, licking over his own with a bubblegum pink tongue before continuing.

“Somewhere you aren’t… distracted?”

She could feel him slowly inching closer, but stopping when they were about to touch lips, before looking deeply into her eyes, silently asking for her permission. She had to say something, but the nerves stopped her from saying anything comprehensible. She took a deep breath, staring into his eyes so intently, their lips oh so very close when-

DING DONG

The large clock inside the mansion echoed around the ballroom and leaked into the garden. The chimes were strong and loud, eleven more of them bounced around, following the first. They both jumped, a little startled by the loud noise, and Y/n immediately pulled herself together and sidestepped away from him and the planter he had cornered her against, now bashful of their situation. She suddenly felt the need to leave. Not because of any promise of a specific home time to her mother or sisters, although they would be expecting her home sooner than later- but instead because she needed to process what just happened- how quickly she allowed herself to succumb to this random man. God, she nearly allowed him to kiss her. She had to leave and have a long hard think about the mysterious man who suddenly cured her of all of her inhibitions, and she had to leave now.

“I’m so sorry, but I must get going. My family must be wanting me home by now,”

She doesn’t catch him letting out a small sigh, but she does see him give her a smile and ask her if he could escort her back to her carriage, which Y/n agreed to far too quickly.

And before they began to walk, he softly held the small of her back and guided her, something that so often disgusted her when done by other men, but in this case, didn’t mind in the slightest.

Why was her face so warm? Why were her hands clammy and shaking? Why was her heart beating so damn fast? How was she simultaneously boiling hot and freezing cold at the same time? She needed to get a damned grip. The carriage (that her rich Aunt Josephine had graciously paid for, as it was unsafe for her to come home alone) was waiting for her as he walked her out the back entrance of the mansion, which Harry suggested them to use instead as it was hidden to the ballroom attendees, in order “to prevent any creeps from attempting to snatch another dance with you, love!”. Together, they walked down the seemingly never ending stairs and to the transport. He held her hand and helped her to climb into the carriage, kissing her knuckles gently (Y/n noticed his little smile at this, and she was sure that it was due to the irony of her not letting him kiss her hand earlier, but now not saying a peep about it), before parting to take a step back and keep his hands behind his back instead. He waved her goodbye and wished her well, leaving her with an “until we meet again, Miss Y/ln. I hope my company tonight has pleased you” before the coachman clicked his tongue, sending the majestic steeds, including her own, Flynn, into a gentle yet brisk trod away from the grand mansion and towards her loving home.

She was thankful to the highest degree that she had the luxury of an empty ride home, void of company, which meant she could take off her shoes, undo her corset, kick her feet up, open the small window to let in a chilly breeze and process whatever just happened in the garden of the ballroom. Would she be telling her Marmee about this- about him? She did not know. On one hand, she didn’t want to seem weak with feelings, but on the other hand, her mother wished for her to fall in love (if she ever did) with a good man, and though it could not be classified as love yet (hell, she didn’t even know his last name yet) he was definitely charming, and witty, and better than all the other men she had danced with that night.

Her brain hurt with all of the thinking of boys and tooth-rotting feelings towards them. The breeze that was being blown into the carriage was beautiful, and she was very comfortable, now out of her shoes and corset, but to really seal the deal on the night, all she needed was a large hug from her loving mother, a good cup of tea, a bath and a few pages (or chapters) of a book before an late retirement to bed.

*

You would think that an late retirement to bed would mean an insanely late morning, right? Well, that is what should have happened to Y/n that morning, but instead, she found herself waking up bright and early, her head filled with too many thoughts of him, which were too distracting for her to sleep any longer than she normally would after a late night. She got ready for the day, pulled up her big boots to avoid snakes and ventured off into the acres of her “backyard” to do her morning chores. She walked through the cold dewy grass to get to the stables, where she fed and groomed Atticus, the white Shetland pony with an attitude, before moving on to Flynn, her lovely chocolate brown Clydesdale horse with a thick and proud white blaze down his face and white feet (which her family all referred to as Flynn’s little snow booties). As she did, she whispered good mornings and hellos into his ears before carefully hugging him, making sure not to put her face completely on his, seeing as she was unfortunately allergic to his dander. She filled up his water as she asked him questions like “how was your night?” and “make any new friends?” before letting him out to his large paddock with a “see you soon”. She ventured to the back of the dull red barn that had been weathered down over time, jumping over the paddock fencing, crossing the large field and dragging open the heavy wooden sliding door, three excited Jersey cows running out into the greenery, ready to start a new day of grazing. Y/n then entered through the large creaky wooden door and into the cow manure smelling room. She strode over to the last cow sitting down in the corner, eyes just opening up after a sweet night’s rest. As she walked over, she noticed a little furry creature jumping down from his ledge high in the wood panelling of the barn and following her- it was Fennec, the L/n’s domesticated barn cat - a sweetheart through and through who hated everyone but the family, a little orange Somali cat with the sweetest pointed ears, earning him his name after the long eared fox. The two walked to their friend who was still lying down, only just waking up.

“Good Morning my sweet sleepy Petunia! How are you this lovely dawn?” Y/n asked in a soft yet cheerful voice as she stood over her with her hands on her hips, while Fennec jumped on top of a bale of hay next to her and meowing to make his presence known- an attention seeker of only the L/n’s love and affection. He then waited patiently for his morning hello too.

“Good morning to you too, my handsome Fen! I didn’t mean to leave you out! How are you, my little man?” She gave the special place behind his ears a little scratch as the cat chirped happily to her, almost in response. Y/n always spoke to them as if they were humans- in her mind they were family as much as her sisters and parents, and family was always listened to, even if family was a fox looking cat and a slightly sleep-dazed cow.

Y/n then looked back at the cow, who had gotten a hold of her bearings and began to stand, Y/n standing back to give her some space. Once she got up, the girl pat her slowly before embracing her in a sweet hug, one that Petunia leaned into, her head on her shoulder as she huffed into her ear softly, warm air hitting Y/n’s neck as she smiled, loving stroking her friend, giving her a pat, before walking, the cow following her stride in almost perfect sync.

“Your friends are all already awake and in the paddock grazing, P! Why is it you who always needs a wakeup call, huh?” The Jersey replied with a short high pitched moo, but Y/n was only teasing her- she never minded that Petunia didn’t want to wake up until she gave her a sweet good morning, and if fact, it was nothing but endearing that even though Petunia spends most of her time with the rest of the small herd, she refuses to get up and start the day without her morning hello and hug from her human best friend.

They walked together to the paddock before Petunia jogged off to her friends, ready to say hi, before beginning to graze. Y/n filled up the large water trough before walking out of the front door and to the sheltered firewood stock. She collected a full wheelbarrow of good firewood before walking back to the house, Fennec following her the whole way through. She stocked up the firewood box outside of the front door, wheeled the barrow back up the hill, this time with Fennec as her precious cargo, sat it down to its previous place, grabbed Fennec and walked back down once again to her home, this time holding him in her hands, stroking him the whole way back.

Once arriving at the house once again, Fennec jumped out of Y/n’s arms and walked through the door and while she took her muddy boots off. Fennec went ahead and worked his way through the maze of their house and to the kitchen, near the back door where plopped himself down next to his food bowl, ready for breakfast. She walked after him and began to prepare his morning meal, pulling the leftover fish out of the newspaper that Hannah, their helper who cleans with Liz and cooks meals for the entire family, had left for Fennec the night before while cleaning the dishes. Y/n put the food into the dish and refilled his water in the sink, before turning around to place the bowl on the floor, running straight into Hannah herself, who was looking at her with a strange suspicious look on her face. After jumping and putting her hand to her slightly heaving chest in her surprise, Y/n, looks at Hannah, gives her a confused look before inquiring. “Why are you looking at me in such a fashion?” as she placed the water bowl down.

Hannah squinted her eyes, assessing Y/n’s every feature before noting, “You look different…”

Look different? What the heck was that supposed to mean?

She rises, an inquisitive look on her face. “How so?” She pressed, now very intrigued and still ever so confused.

“You look brighter despite your late night… It’s suspicious…”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Hannah…” Y/n retorts, washing her hands thoroughly with soap. She was playing stupid though- Y/n knew that she probably seemed much more chipper, and she was in no mood to discuss why. She would never admit to anyone that she had fun at a ball- she had never before. Especially at a matching ball, where the women wore dance cards and awaited stupid men to pluck them like flowers. And especially not because of a specific boy, who at the end of the night swooped in, annoyed her, danced with her and flustered her all in one. No way would she admit all of that.

Hannah though, was an older woman with wisdom beyond even her years- she knew that Y/n was hiding something, Y/n was aware of that. But still, she remained dumb as Hannah enquired further.

“This mood wouldn’t have anything to do with last night’s festivities, right?”

Y/n, though panicking on the inside, had a decent straight face, developed after dozens of late night poker games.

“No, of course not,” She forces herself to let out a huff of an incredulous laugh that only lasted a second, before looking back at her hands, busying herself with washing the suds off and picking up a towel to dry them so that she didn’t have to look at Hannah’s face.

Before Hannah could further interrogate, both of them heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and Y/n quickly took the opportunity to escape.

“Oh, would you hear that! The girls are waking up!” She quickly stated, her voice several decibels louder, looking to the ceiling, where the footsteps could be heard descending. She looked at Hannah just for a second, only allowing her to let out an incredibly suspicious “Hmm…” before dashing out of the kitchen to see who woke up first, leaving Hannah behind to continue making breakfast for the girls. After leaving the door, she arrived in the drawing room where all of the girls sat and ate. The stairs led down to the very room she was in, so she looked to her left and saw the first sister of the day- Safia.

She was dressed in her sweet frilly nightgown that she filled out nicely- most despicable mothers and grandmothers always called her “overweight”, “hefty”or “fat”, but all of the girls knew that was nothing but spiteful hag talk. Her hair was half up half down, the incredibly long locks perfectly curled despite her not touching them at all. She had beautiful clear skin, so soft and warm you could have mistaken it for a baby’s. So quiet and graceful, she tiptoed down the final two stairs and reached the bottom, looking at Y/n with sleepy, slightly squinted eyes, still adjusting to the light of day. She smiled sweetly at her older sister and came up to give her a warm hug.

“Y/n, you’re home!” She softly exclaimed, her voice never reaching above a mouse’s peep. They embraced and swayed slightly before letting go to walk into the kitchen and help Hannah set the table. As they picked up their first sets of plates and pots each, filled with eggs, toast, jam and marmalade, Y/n smiled back at her sister and gave her a little “I am! Did you miss me last night?”

“Of course, but I always miss you. I missed you this morning when I walked into your room and found your bed empty. I cannot believe that after such a late night you are still driven enough to wake up early and do chores! I had already decided that I would do them for you later today, so imagine my worry!”

God, Safia was so sweet. Y/n never understood the phrase “I could eat you up” when referring to something cute… but sometimes Y/n could eat her up! She was the sweetest, kindest, shyest little angel to ever grace the Earth. That is why she was never bullied, not even by the meanest of girls. She was so graceful and true, that even though it was hard for others girls not to be envious of her and the attention she drew from only the most handsome of men, they knew they had no right to be- she was so darling and caring of others that she deserved only the best, and no one could be anything but happy for her.

“Never worry about me, Saf. I am always 100% fine, even when you worry yourself dizzy!” The girls walk back into the kitchen and take cutlery and smaller serving plates, as they continue their conversation, Y/n steering the conversation away from the events of her late night and instead towards Safia’s latest knit. She softly recounted the process of her success in making a little forest green jumper for Fennec, as they brought out the last things for the table, and took their seats, Y/n pushing away thoughts of the man whose eyes matched the knitted piece.

Just as they began to reach for various items on the table, the front door creaked open, as if the person arriving was attempting to not wake anyone up. The girls immediately knew only one sweet and caring woman would do that, and that was-

“Ma!!” the girls exclaimed as quietly as they could, jumping out of their chairs and running through the living room and to the hallway where their loving mother was taking off her tiny boots, smiling at them kindly. Y/n immediately dropped to the floor to help her mother out of her shoes while Saf hugged her. Once Y/n pulled the shoes off and put them by the door, she rose, hugged her mother fiercely before walking her to the dining room, asking her how her early morning treating the Poe children for the flu was. They sat at the table and the girls filled their mother’s plate with buttered toast and fresh fruit before continuing to butter their own. The pitter patter of their mother’s tiny feet were heard gracefully down the stairs- there was only one of the sisters who inherited mother’s dainty feet, and that was Ula. Her tired eyes were carefully wiped as she walked to the dining table, wished a good morning to her mother before spooning berries into her plate- never using her hands, as always. Finally, once Liz ambled down the stairs and sat down at the dining table, her dress robe tied on tight and a tissue to her nose, a pout painted onto her face, the whole family (except for father, of course) were all present and accounted for.

“Oh Liz. Not feeling any better, are you?” Ma asked, walking over to her and putting her hand on her forehead to check her temperature. Liz pulled her hands off of her face and plopped them into her lap, her nose red and irritated as she pathetically sniffled, holding her mother’s hand tightly for comfort.

“No, Ma. I still feel horrible. And I can’t believe I was ill on the very night of Tilly Hughes ball! And at the next high tea, all that they will be talking about is the events of the ball, and I would be left out. I spoiled my night with the snow dancing last week and now I am paying the price severely.” Liz was not a spoilt child at all- she was very put together and polite, even described by all of the matchmaking mothers at balls and parties as “the perfect housewife”. And perfect she was- a homebody who hated dirty outside jobs, and instead spent all of her time indoors, with her chores including dusting, washing the dishes, sweeping and ironing, all things she loved to do because they kept her busy. She was sweet and obedient, not at all naughty or scandalous like other seemingly innocent girls, and to top it all off, she already held natural mothering tendencies towards all of her younger sisters, as being the oldest made her strong and motherly immediately. She was slender and had beautiful mid length black hair that smelt of fresh laundry. She felt, looked and smelt as clean and fresh as the crisp shirts she ironed in the late nights, when all of the sisters had no major events happening the next day, so they stayed up til the wee hours of the night, doing each other’s hair, talking, eating biscuits with tea, playing cards, knitting, reading and sewing. But naturally, she, being human, had flaws. And her flaw had been her desire for the shiny things that her friends were given by their families. Though Y/n never really cared about what others said about her, and when she did, she stuck up for herself, Liz, though being seen through her three sisters eyes as beautiful and sweet and caring, still felt the need to show others that she was perfect. That she had money and could enjoy higher class luxuries- which was a problem as the L/ns, though much more fortunate than others, definitely were not the wealthiest. Their farm was a gentleman’s farm, yes, which meant that they didn’t rely on it for money, but it was inherited land and had been for many generations. And their father, after a few bad loans, was short on money, forcing him to apply for a job overseas- blue collar work that other families would feel embarrassed by, but not the L/n’s- they simply wished for their father’s safety and return. The girls had to take their jobs  around the house more seriously, as the farm was no longer to just teach the girls about responsibility- no, they had to sell their goods now. Every Sunday morning, while townsfolk went to church, the girls stocked up Flynn with all their goods safely tucked away before walking to the town square, selling fresh milk, butter, tea leaves and produce to the people.

“It’s okay, Liz. You cannot help that you are ill!” Their mother softly comforted, stroking her hair before squeezing her arm. Liz leaned into her and laid her head on her shoulder.

“I know Ma. Plus, it’s all okay, considering next week's plan.”

Y/n was confused.

“What are we doing next week?” She inquired, looking between her mother and sister suspiciously as they held faces drenched in guilt.

“Ma? Liz?”

The room was tense before their mother looked at Liz.

“Well, go on then. You told me that Y/n knew and happily agreed- I only see it fair for you to be the bearer of news then.”

Liz looked guiltily at her plate, then at Y/n.

“Well…Pippa thought it would be wonderful to have… a little soirée at her place… a small get together, really” she explained in a quiet voice, evident to Y/n that she was not telling the whole truth.

“How big is “a little get together”?” Y/n asked

“Well… really it’s… um so there is Pippa’s family and-“ her sister sputtered, but Y/n already knew what was coming.

“Liz, tell me already!”

“It’s sixty. Sixty people at Pippa’s mansion for a ball. It is not a debutant one, but there will be men there to dance with, and you really must accompany me.” She quietly admitted, voice as soft as Safia’s, but heard in the otherwise silent room.

Y/n was going to get mad at her. She was very good at that- getting mad. She was going to chew Liz out for not only making her attend another one of those silly things, but for also not telling her, springing it upon her and forcing her to accompany her.

But she looked at her sister and saw the guilt on her face, nose still red from her sickness that prohibited her from going to Tilly’s ball, yet she still put on a happy face and helped her get ready before wishing her well last night. Additionally, there may be a certain person that Y/n could see again at said ball. There was no doubt in her mind that he was not a frequent ball-goer, what with his obvious lack of decorum, but Tilly and Pippa were in the same friend group, and though there were new people to talk to at every ball, who could resist inviting the tall charming Brit? Y/n was getting giddy at the sliver of a chance she had to possibly see, let alone talk to him again.

While Y/n was contemplating how she was going to respond in a way that didn't cause suspicion for her willingness to attend the very event she was complaining about the evening before, Ula chimed in her signature whiny voice.

“I could go with you! You never let me come to them, and I know I would be the most graceful dancer there!” She stood and began to dance and twirl, her arms going through the five ballet positions as she spun on her toes. But even she knew that it was all for nothing. After watching her move, Liz immediately turned to Y/n with pleading eyes.

“Please! It’s dangerous for me to go alone, but taking Ula isn’t an option either and you know it! She is still too young!” The twelve year old in question pouted before sitting down with her arms crossed. She couldn’t have been too mad though, as Saf put her arm on her thigh, and before anyone could try to console the pouty child, she already went back to her berries, munching in silence.

Y/n forced out an annoyed sigh, and Liz looked at her with hopeful eyes.

“You owe me for this, Elizabeth…” And as her sister beamed with happiness, Y/n too, smiled for a different reason- for a different person…

**

Damn…

Damn, damn, dammit…

She hated to admit this to herself, but Y/n was…

Nervous …

Damn oh damn oh dammit to hell!

She was lucky she was not exclaiming this aloud, or Liz would have smacked her with her pristine glove before she could blink twice, chastising her for not being enough of a lady. But how else was she supposed to express herself when she was so… nervous? And it definitely was not due to the dance- she had been to enough of those to make her eyes roll to the back of her head, never to be seen again. She had also never cared about what people had thought of her- most of the boys there could not hold their own spoon when eating dinner, let alone conversation more illuminating than the entertainment a brick wall could supply. But here she was, yet again in the ballroom in her old, albeit pretty dress that Liz hoped no one would recognise from a previous event, nor pay close enough attention to notice that the bottom of the skirt had a tear that was produced while the girls were walking to the venue, Y/n so deep in thought about whether she would see a certain someone that she didn't notice her skirts slipping from her grasp and immediately getting snagged on a pesky root of a tree. Liz nearly had a panic attack because of it, chastising herself for trusting her sister enough to leave the house without a mini sewing kit to fix her mistake. She resorted to making Y/n promise she would not move around too much, or God forbid, dance so as to not arouse attention to her, risking her mistake being caught. Y/n didn’t mind that she had been prohibited from dancing- if anything, it was a relief that she would not have to endure the painstaking process of listening to men. Now she had an excuse to stay away from the boys, and not be forced into socialising like Liz always made her do.

But, the moment she walked into the ballroom, with all the girls in the prettiest of dresses (except for Tilly Hughes and her friends, who were cruel and made Liz feel insecure with their relentless passive aggressive comments), Y/n immediately began to look for the certain somebody. It was unlike her to think of a boy for more than an hour, and for the thoughts to be out of anything other than annoyance or pure rage. Instead, she felt giddy and excited- she was even smiling! And not just to be polite, or because she was looking at her sister! No, she was genuinely excited to see Harry and talk to him once again. But that also brought nerves too. This was the first boy she was ever interested in- she didn’t want to ruin this. She wasn’t sure how to be pretty and alluring to a boy because she had never cared for the topic when older women taught the girls how to be attractive. All she knew was that she felt her stomach twist in knots when she thought about Harry, and that she really liked him.

She needed to remain calm though. Retaining a neutral face was key to not bruising her ego, as cheeky Harry would 100% inquire why she was so giddy if he was to see her. Despite the annoyance and blow to her pride that she would feel, along with her pep talk to herself to not act weird, she still felt the small smile remain on her mouth as she walked around the big room, sipping some sparkling apple juice that was being served. While waiting for a glimpse of the chocolate haired tall British boy, which she remained almost embarrassingly vigilant for, she chatted with a sweet girl named Nin, who was short, had lovely long jet black straight hair and the prettiest dark brown eyes, and round face. They talked about the grandness of the room, then each other’s sisters, who were both chatting and dancing with boys and their respective friends. An hour later, Nin excused herself to go introduce herself to the man her sister insisted she talk to, leaving Y/n to hover around the room. After scanning it once more and noting the lack of Harry’s presence, she concluded that he must not have attended the ball at all. She felt a pang of disappointment, and allowed herself to wallow in it only for a second, quickly walking out of the room and into the long, dark and empty corridor to sigh and pout for a moment.

After stopping outside the room, closing the door behind her with a thud, her echoed heeled steps ceased, and she was immediately confused with the wet smacking sound that she heard down the corridor, only a few feet away.

What in God is that sound?

Morbidly curious, she began to slowly walk towards the sound, hyper aware of the clicking and clacking of her heels, making sure that they were as quiet as they possibly could be. She assumed it may have been a lost animal, what with all the heavy breathing between the noises, so she had to stay calm and quiet so as to not scare the creature. Walking past a pretty and elegant gold table pushed to the right of the hall, she tiptoed all the way to the source of the noise, looking to her left, behind one of the many pillars and finding…

A man? A man with his back turned, and, after looking down at the shoes, noticed a figure in a poofy grand dress tucked behind him, pushed up into the corner created with the wall, the pillar and the man as they…

She squinted in the horribly dim lighting to understand the situation. As they…

Ew…

As they sucked each other's faces. Y/n suddenly became both disgusted at them doing that in such a location and embarrassed at her presence, with the thought of her possibly being caught gawking at them immediately causing her to tiptoe back to the ballroom as swiftly as she possibly could. She noted the table as she walked past, proud that she remembered and therefore, wouldn’t trip over it. Though, while paying attention to her body not running into it, she forgot about her infuriating dress that seemed to attract things to snag into. The bottom of the left side of her skirt swooshed past, and got snagged on the intricate, yet sharp edge of one of the four legs of the sturdy table, and when she continued to walk away, not noticing she was ensnared, the fabric tore. Y/n immediately winced at the loud noise of the fabric, her whole body freezing as she slowly looked back, hoping that the pair did not hear that.

Unfortunately, God had decided that though they wouldn’t hear the large thud of the door closing or her echoing heeled steps, they would hear her dress rip, and immediately pause their heated kissing to gawk at her.

But as she registered their faces, her heart (and face) immediately dropped. She felt a lump in her throat as she looked at the people kissing under the dim amber lamplight. The blonde, skinny, blue eyed new addition to Tilly Hughes friendship group, straight from France, and the man…

Y/n had never felt so stupid, knowing that her face must’ve looked idiotic with her mouth hanging open and eyes wide and she stared at the tall, tall British lanky boy who teased and waltzed with her under the pale moonlight. Who’s single touch had sent her in a tizzy, and made her glow with happiness for the entire week they spent apart. And though he held her so softly, teased her in a way that made her feel special, here he was, caught with the loose coils in disarray, lips shiny, red and swollen and eyes a frenzy, wide and dark with lust for a girl that was the antithesis of her.

She doesn’t know how long the three must’ve stared at each other (or more accurately, Harry and Y/n stared at each other while the unnamed girl shifted her gaze between the two), before she was suddenly unfrozen in time, pulled the silly fabric of her dress until it gave way, turned around and sped walked all the way back to the ballroom, before deciding that she didn’t want anyone to see her when she inevitably began to weep, and instead, took a hard right and walked into the closest room in the hall, shutting the door tightly behind her.

The room was illuminated by the numerous oil lamps along the walls, and she hoped no one was present as she walked into the small study, with a bookshelf to the right, and a desk with a bar cart to the left. She breathed in and out, trying to calm herself as her eyes began to water. How could he do that to her? Did he not care for the small yet meaningful time they shared? He toyed with her as if they were close the last time he saw her, so how could he go and do that to her, kissing the hell out of the pretty, elegant and graceful French girl that Y/n could never live up to. It was just when she began to feel the teardrops fall when she heard footsteps come closer and closer to the door. She prayed to God that it wasn’t Harry, yet once again, She was not on the mortal girl’s side as the very man she wished didn’t exist opened the door and shut it behind him. She quickly wiped her tears away and looked at him with nothing but heartbreak. He, however, looked annoyed. How and why, she could not tell, but he had no problem answering her unspoken question.

“Why would you stand there all frozen and shocked before running away? Now she thinks that you will go off and tell everyone what you saw and she is crying.”

It took a second for Y/n to realise that he was talking about the girl he was canoodling with. She then had to take another beat and comprehend what he just said. Is he annoyed at her for taking off when he was the one who was kissing the girl in the hallway, where anyone could have walked out? Y/n was in absolute shock, and simply stared at him, hoping he would claim he was joking before beginning to apologise, but all he did was stare at her with his eyebrow raised and mouth in a scowl.

“Well? What do you have to say?” He implored after a minute or so in silence.

Apparently he was completely serious. And Y/n was even more confused- so much so that the girl, who usually never shied down from an argument, was so surprised that all she could answer him with was a tiny, gravelly “What?”, as she furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head. This seemed enough to set Harry off even further, raising his voice in a peeved tone even louder.

“Do I have to spell it out for you? She is crying, and you left me to deal with her. What am I supposed to do to console a crying gir-“ He cut himself off, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before opening them and beginning again in a lower, yet still sharp tone, running his fingers through his hair as he spoke.

“Whatever- just go apologise to her, promise that you won’t tell anyone and we can all pretend like this never happened and go back to what we were doing.”

This man had to be joking- he wanted her to apologise for walking in on them when they were the ones who are to blame for conducting their private business in public! Still, Y/n could not respond back. She was too heartbroken. He was the first boy she had ever been interested in- born with an awareness like no other, she knew that men were nothing but disappointments, and vowed that she would never give her time, space, energy or thoughts to them when they were nothing but undeserving of it. But then Harry, who annoyed her so much, was somehow able to both conform to her perception of how stupidly annoying men were, but simultaniously make her want him nonetheless. Her eyes began to water again- why was it that the first boy she ever liked was a bastard?

“Why are you crying?” He asked, sounding confused- and that hurt Y/n even more. How could he be so indifferent? Did he not understand even the slightest of her affection for him? Was he that uncaring for her? She still could not answer, and immediately began shutting off her emotions. She immediately stopped silently crying and wiped her tears, now nothing but ashamed as she looked anywhere but at him. Then, she heard him scoff, and when she reluctantly peered up at him, his evergreen eyes were full of realisation, darting between hers. He walked towards her in his same, slow yet wide stride and stopped only a few centimetres away from her, mirroring his close proximity a week before- when everything was perfect.

“Oh don’t tell me…” Her gaze sharply shifted to their previous location, down to the floor, but he lifted her chin with his index and middle finger, making her look into his eyes as he analysed her further. He tutted in a patronising tone.

“Silly girl, don’t tell me you’ve fallen for me, hmm?”

How was this possible? How could someone go from naughty yet sweet and familiar to so cold and unforgiving. She felt her heart breaking even more, but she would not let herself show it at all. She closed her eyes and willed the entire situation away. She didn’t want this to taint the perfect person he was in her head. He began to graze his thumb over her bottom lip, and as she opened her eyes, he continued.

“I knew you must have been stupid for the whole “I’m so innocent” act, but I had credited you as at least a little inteligent. But you truly are a thoughtless little sweetheart.”

She stared at him with malice, but remained where she was. Unfortunately, she was frozen still and could not move even though it was all she wanted to do at that point.

He suddenly removed his hand and continued. “Listen, darling. I am not some shy Mr. Darcy here to fall in love with you and whisk you away from what you think is a treacherous life. I have no intentions of loyalty to one woman- why would I when I could have numerous instead?” He finished the end of his sentence with a smirk.

Her heart broke even more- how dare he bring Mr. Darcy into this…

Suddenly, the door opened, and both Harry and Y/n looked at the door immediately, but soon untensed when they found it was the blonde French girl. Her eyes were still a little red, but she had calmed down by this point. She looked at Y/n warily before silently speaking to Harry. He explained to her.

“She promised she wouldn’t tell anyone…” before pausing to make deep eye contact with Y/n before continuing. “…no one at all”

The girl nodded and walked over to Harry, before shamelessly starting to kiss and bite his neck, Harry laughing slightly as his head fell back. Y/n couldn’t fathom how shameless this girl suddenly became. Harry looked at her suddenly, as if he remembered she was still in the room.

“Unless you would like to join, would you excuse us? We wouldn’t want anyone else walking in on us out there. Thank you for finding a room for us, though…”

She could not believe her ears. She unpaused, turned around sharply and left at the same speed as she arrived, almost running away.

***

She was tuning everything out, simply there to avoid sitting alone. If she was, she would be left with her feelings for too long and would begin to cry, and she couldn’t ruin the night for Liz like that- not only because she did not want her to have to leave early, especially when she missed the last ball due to her sickness, but also because she would not know what excuse to make for her watery red eyes other than the truth that she was crying, and she would not- no, could not have that. No one had ever seen her cry before- well, at least for her parents… and now… him. She could not stop thinking about the look of perverted glee on his face, furrowed eyebrows and sinful smirk as he scoffed at the feelings she had never felt before. She was brought out of her train of thought though, when she heard his name being mentioned in hushed voices by her Tilly and her wicked friends.

“Shh, girls! Look over there! It’s Harry and Charlotte. Wonder where they were, huh?” Tilly paused and smirked as the girls around her snickered, nursing the champagne glass in her hand daintily. Y/n looked over to where the girls were staring- Harry had just entered the room through the door she had come out and ran into a mere hour ago, his hair still a mess and lips still red, now with rumpled clothes too- and Y/n had to look away. Following him was the mystery girl- Charlotte, her lipstick completely gone, hair also mussed, corset loose and undone and eyes darting around the room in a shifty manner, hoping no one (except for her friends) noticed her absence. One of the other girls in the group chimed in during the pause, while the rest continued to watch.

“She is so lucky. Harry is one of- if not the most handsome man in this country- and foreign too! Have you heard his accent?”

Tilly looked at the girl with a cruel stare before rolling her eyes and in a disdainful tone, snarked. “Wipe the drool off your mouth, Margaret,” she teased cruelly, before looking back at Harry. “Plus, everyone knows that Harry has been with every girl under the sun. Face it- Charlotte is simply his woman of the week.” She took another sip of her drink as all the others concurred with short hums of agreement. Did everyone know he was a debauched playboy but her? Even Lizzy nodded! Her own sister! Y/n could not feel more stupid. She was trailing off in thought again when the girls began to whisper.

“Shut your mouths girls, he’s coming!”  The girls (or well, all except Liz) began to preen and look at him with flirtatious eyes. Y/n followed their eye lines and found Harry coming towards them, Charlotte still trailing. He arrived in front of the group, bowed and presented the quiet and shy girl back to the group.

“This one got lost on her way back from the washroom. You might want to keep an eye on her before she wanders again.” He looked over to her as she smirked. He then met eyes with the other girls, never staying on one for longer than a few seconds, looking at them as if they were items on a menu, and he was excited to try them all. Y/n looked at him with disdain, eyes squinted, mouth pouted, nose slightly scrunched.

Despicable bachelor...

He then locked eyes with her, as if he heard the very thought from her head. He looked at her intently, giving a small smirk. He was teasing her, after breaking her heart.

He looked at the other girls one more time, bowing again, before looking at her once again. He held a smug look as he bowed once more.

“Miss”, he murmured in his smooth and charming British accent- the others sighed as he walked off, but Y/n saw through his faux wooing and sweetness. She knew him for what he really was. A right bastard.

And after she understood that, she knew she had seen enough. She had to go home now. She leant over to Liz and told her she would be waiting in the foyer of the house for her to say her goodbyes. And by midnight, they were home from another ball once more- Y/n completely drained.

No more boys. No more feelings.

And with that promise, she gazed at the ceiling and prayed for sleep to snatch her soon, too pained to be left in her own thoughts about him for any longer.

****

read part two here!

#regency!harry #regency!harry x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles enemies to lovers #regency!harry enemies to lovers #by bug

[haggishlyhagging]

Children, then, are not freer than adults. They are burdened by a wish fantasy in direct proportion to the restraints of their narrow lives; with an unpleasant sense of their own physical inadequacy and ridiculousness; with constant shame about their dependence, economic and otherwise ("Mother, may I?"); and humiliation concerning their natural ignorance of practical affairs. Children are repressed at every waking minute. Childhood is hell.

The result is the insecure, and therefore aggressive/defensive, often obnoxious little person we call a child. Economic, sexual, and general psychological oppressions reveal themselves in coyness, dishonesty, spite, these unpleasant characteristics in turn reinforcing the isolation of children from the rest of society. Thus their rearing, particularly in its most difficult personality phases, is gladly relinquished to women—who tend, for the same reason, to exhibit these personality characteristics themselves. Except for the ego rewards involved in having children of one's own, few men show any interest in children. And certainly not enough to include them in any books on revolution.

So it is up to feminist (ex-child and still oppressed child-women) revolutionaries to do so. We must include the oppression of children in any program for feminist revolution or we will be subject to the same failing of which we have so often accused men: of not having gone deep enough in our analysis, of having missed an important substratum of oppression merely because it didn't directly concern us. I say this knowing full well that many women are sick and tired of being lumped together with children: that they are no more our charge and responsibility than anyone else's will be an assumption crucial to our revolutionary demands. It is only that we have developed, in our long period of related sufferings, a certain compassion and understanding for them that there is no reason to lose now; we know where they're at, what they're experiencing, because we, too, are still undergoing the same kind of oppressions. The mother who wants to kill her child for what she has had to sacrifice for it (a common desire) learns to love that same child only when she understands that it is as helpless, as oppressed as she is, and by the same oppressor: then her hatred is directed outward, and "motherlove" is born. But we will go further: our final step must be the elimination of the very conditions of femininity and childhood themselves that are now conducive to this alliance of the oppressed, clearing the way for a fully "human" condition. There are no children yet able to write their own books, tell their own story. We will have to, one last time, do it for them.

-Shulamith Firestone, The Dialectic of Sex: The Case for Feminist Revolution

#shulamith firestone #female oppression #child oppression #reluctant motherhood #patriarchy

[msfbgraves]

The first Godfather movie is on Y*utube for free now! I rewatched it and it was just as great as I remember, so on to Part 2. But then I went on redd*t to check out some Godfather threads, and was disappointed to see so much discourse on who was hotter, Apollonia or Kay. And why there is so much hate against Kay, mainly because she is “too feminist” and “educated”, doesn’t “obey or support” Michael, and that she’s not as beautiful as Apollonia. All in all a disappointing experience. I didn’t see any male characters reduced to how handsome they were or were not : /

Let me help you there, then, Nonnie - of course Michael was destined to become the new Don - he is far prettier than Fredo, Sonny or Connie. And Vito was prettier than Don Fanucci all along! 😎

All this "Kay isn't good enough for Michael" discourse - he pursued her. Both in film 1 and 3. And the only time I felt Kay was weak, was when she said yes when he returned. Imagine, here is your war hero boyfriend who says he wants a clean American life... and then he shoots two people, leaves the country, ghosts you for a year, tells you he has become a career criminal and then proposes marriage. She should have said no, she really isn't open to this, but is this man, who she knows has people killed with no repercussions, a man she can refuse? As little as Vitelli could really refuse Michael's request to court Apollonia. The first thing Michael says to him is: "If you don't do what I want, I will kill you, and what I want is meet your daughter."

But alright maybe love isn't rational. Maybe they loved each other still. Kay really wasn't suited to mob life and that is on Michael. He knew who she was and it didn't matter, he wanted her. He had barely a clue who Apollonia was, her with no English and he with broken Italian. It didn't matter, he wanted her. Kay would have been perfect for Michael Corleone, aspiring senator, which is what he was when they met. But he didn't care Kay was not suited for who he was now. Why didn't he grieve Apollonia and find another mob wife? Why didn't he remarry after their divorce? Even when he proposes Kay is already reluctant and Michael pushes and pushes and pushes. She must represent something he actually does want, still.

But it's always the woman's fault when relationships don't work out, isn't it? No Kay wasn't a good mob wife. She didn't want to be one. She got out with her children - that is something Michael never managed. And Apollonia is something many men imagine they want, but when they have it, they get bored. I am not saying Apollonia wasn't intelligent, but if you get told to completely erase yourself into motherhood, which means you can't offer more than comfort and sex - that's not enough for a lot of people. And it's not like these women wouldn't have had more to offer but everytime they try they get shut down. And what you get then is Carmella, which may have suited Vito - that man who craved domesticity above all else - but even Sonny and Michael needed more input from her than she could give. So Michael fell for the total opposite. And maybe Apollonia was a fierce presence who might have become to Michael what Connie became, but we can't know. We don't know what she and Michael talked about. We know she was very beautiful and made Michael laugh, and she may or may not have had a slight independent streak. That's it.

I feel that they might have worked because they clicked emotionally and Apollonia knew the life. But Michael didn't look for someone like her again. He looked for Kay, again and again and again.

If she doesn't suit him - and no, she doesn't suit a Don - Michael should try to figure out what itch he was trying to scratch with her. Oh, and that obedience shit - in my experience, boys who go on about that are deeply insecure about something. They couldn't get a well trained dog to obey them, let alone a person!

All these men who think they're owed power while being unwilling to do what they'd have to to obtain it, always want women to fawn. Men who have what it takes to gain power, should they aspire to, usually spend time honing a skill. They rarely throw their weight around putting others down. No matter where they start, the bottom or the top - they put the work in. Michael did, Sonny did, and Fredo mostly complained. As much as we see anyway. If Fredo had done a good job with what he was given, or would have found himself an opportunity, he would have won Michael's respect. Not position,but respect, like Tom. Instead Fredo demanded respect for his position as an older brother.

That's the type of man who whines about having women obey him.

#the godfather #michael corleone #kay adams #Apollonia Vitelli #fredo corleone

[robfinancialtip]

🎬🌟Gabrielle Walsh reflects on her inspirational journey into acting, reminiscing how her father's passion for older films profoundly influenced her. She recalls being captivated by the stories and witnessing her father's emotional responses to them, which ignited her desire to have such emotions through her performances. This early exposure to the power of storytelling planted the seeds of her acting aspirations. As a mother, she found motivation in providing for her family and being a positive role model for her children.

🎭💫Deciding to pursue acting, Gabrielle acknowledges the diversity of approaches among actors but emphasizes her commitment to conveying truth through her work. Despite a reluctance to expose herself, she is eager to authentically embody the truth of her characters, recognizing that therein lies her power as an actor. This balance between truth and portrayal becomes a guiding principle in her artistic journey.

🌟❤️Gabrielle delves deeper into the craft of acting. She realizes the source of her power as an actor. She understands that tapping into her experiences and truth is essential for authentic portrayal. This introspective journey leads her to embrace her identity and experiences, ultimately enriching her performances with genuine emotion and depth. Her journey as a single mom also inspires others, showcasing resilience and determination in pursuing her dreams.

🎭📖Gabrielle Walsh's reflections offer a profound insight into her inspirational journey as an actor, shaped by her early exposure to storytelling and her quest for authenticity in portraying characters. Her story highlights the transformative power of art and the importance of personal truth and motivation, especially as a single mother balancing her career aspirations with motherhood.

[vergilsama922]

Hope Universe Skit: The Hairstylist and The Model

At a chic, modern hairstyling studio. Mukuro Ikusaba is preparing her tools, and Junko Enoshima is seated in front of a large mirror, looking somewhat reluctant. Yes, I know the picture above doesn't match the setting. Sue me xP.

Mukuro: smiling softly Alright, Junko, let's get started. What are you thinking for today's shoot?

Junko: rolling her eyes Oh, I don't know, Mukuro. Something that doesn't scream 'my sister did my hair'?

Mukuro: I promise you, I'll make you look stunning. Trust me?

Junko: sighing Fine, but only because of our… 'new beginning' or whatever. Just don't mess it up. If you do, you'll find yourself volunteering to taste Taeko's new batch of totally-not-blunt weapon cookies.

Mukuro: begins working on Junko's hair, carefully and skillfully You know, I've been practicing a lot. I want to be good at this, not just for me, but for you too.

Junko: Oh, how touching. The soldier turned stylist for her little sister. Pfft.

Mukuro: It's more than that, Junko. It's about finding something peaceful, something creative. It's… healing, in a way.

Junko: glances at Mukuro through the mirror, a hint of curiosity in her eyes Healing, huh? Well, I suppose we could all use a bit of that.

Mukuro: smiles, continuing her work I remember when we were kids, you used to love when I braided your and Ryoko's hair.

Junko: Yeah, well, you were always better at it than me. I guess some things never change.

There's a brief pause as Mukuro carefully styles Junko's hair

Junko: with a snarky tone So, why hairstyling? Of all the things you could have picked. And why didn't I ever know this was something you wanted?

Mukuro: pausing, then speaking softly After everything… I wanted something that felt normal, something far from the battlefield. Hairstyling… it's creative, it's calming. It's a world away from our past.

Junko: Huh, never took you for the creative type. Always thought you were just the soldier.

Mukuro: There's a lot you don't know about me, Junko. We've both changed. I think for the better now.

Junko: Oh, the mysterious Mukuro. Who knew?

Mukuro: smiles while focusing on her work It's also about connection. Doing someone's hair, it's intimate, it's trust. I never had much of that before.

Junko: Trust, huh? That's… a big word for us.

Mukuro: It is. But it's not just about trusting others, Junko. It's about trusting ourselves too. To be better. Didn't us triplets learn that from Makoto?

Junko: with a bitter laugh Better? After everything I've done? I wanted to destroy the world, Mukuro. How do you move past that?

Mukuro: pausing, choosing her words carefully We…..We can't change the past, but we can shape our future. You feel guilt, and that's… that's a start, Junko.

Junko: Guilt doesn't even begin to cover it. I hate what I became, what I did. It's like I'm stuck in this… despair of my own making.

Mukuro: You know, Junko, being the oldest, I've always felt a sense of responsibility. But seeing you embrace motherhood… it's been a revelation. You're more than just my little sister now; you're a mother, a part of this intricate family we've built with Makoto.

Junko: Motherhood… it's weird, right? I never thought I'd be any good at it. But with our unique situation, it's like I've found a part of me I never knew existed. Makoto really brings out the best in us huh?

Mukuro: It's not just Makoto. He helped us get on the path but he never made us walk it. You've been amazing, Junko. Not just with the kids, but with all of us. You've shown a nurturing side that's been a surprise to everyone. It's like you're rewriting your own story, in the best way possible.

Junko: a smirk playing on her lips, but her eyes softer than usual Well, don't spread it around. I've got a reputation to maintain. But yeah, it's been… different. Good different. Being a part of something that's not just about me and my…..chaos.

Mukuro finishes the hairstyle, a sophisticated yet edgy look that complements Junko's features perfectly

Mukuro: Done. What do you think?

Junko: Examines herself in the mirror, her expression shifting from skepticism to genuine admiration I… I love it. You've got a real talent, Mukuro!

Mukuro: Thank you, Junko. That means a lot coming from you.

Junko: standing up, preparing to leave Don't get too excited. I'm only saying it because it's true. But… maybe you can do my hair again for the next shoot.

Mukuro: eyes light up with happiness and relief I'd like that. I….I really would.

Junko: pausing at the door, turning back towards Mukuro with a rare, softer expression Hey, Mukuro… before I go, I just want to say something. You've always been the strong one, the protector. But seeing you now, doing what you love, and being such a great mother… it's inspiring.

Mukuro: Junko, I…

Junko: No, let me finish. You've changed too, for the better. You're not just my big sister anymore; you're a role model, for me, for the kids, for everyone. You've shown that there's more to us than our past. And that… that means a lot. To all of us. Even me.

Mukuro: Is visibly moved, her eyes glistening with unshed tears Thank you, Junko. That… that means everything to me.

Junko: smirking, but her eyes betray the sincerity of her words Just don't let it go to your head, okay? We still have a lot of work to do. Let's see how confident you are after the next few dozen of shots I got~ This one time might've been a fluke or something. And I'm serious. Tell anyone about me going soft and you're testing out that new batch Taeko thinks won't cause some form of dental trauma.

#danganronpa #danganronpa au #hope universe #junko enoshima #mukuro ikusaba #makoto x junko #makoto x mukuro #skit #hope sisters #sister bonding #ryoko otonashi

[transmutationisms]

Love ur takes on the bio/body politics of Succession and I thought 4x09 delivered so much to unpack there!!! Found it so tragic/interesting the way Shiv was talking about her unborn child throughout the episode so resentfully, like a parasite/leech that she’d be prepared to neglect to pursue the company just like her father did…. The cycles of abuse are cycling lol. What do you make of shiv’s relationship to her motherhood and her awareness of her body’s utility to logan’s empire/under capitalism generally? I do really feel like her characterization this season is an interesting summation of the “having it all” discourse of neoliberal feminism (from catherine rottenberg’s Rise of Neoliberal Feminism, dk if you’ve read but I highly reccomend!) Just watching her last ditch attempts to cling to any remaining vestige of power within the company while so brutally reckoning with/abdicating her future motherhood that was hoisted upon her in part due to tom’s striving and ambition…. WHEW.

Also, do you have any insights on why roman was so shaken by seeing his father’s coffin/“is he in there?” I’m still trying to fully unpack that line with regard to what we know about his fear of death/aging and implied abuse he suffered but maybe I’ve got my tinfoil hat on lol.

yeah shiv's position is quite interesting right now. as my bf pointed out, she basically kept her position with matsson by promising not to love her baby. motherhood can be part of 'having it all' as long as there's a huge behind-the-scenes network of domestic workers, assistants, &c to support you. her lines in 4x04 about how she wishes logan could have held his grandkids are also telling; although she hasn't said anything explicitly about producing an heir, we know that's something logan wanted from her because his racism and ableism prevented him from seeing sophie and iverson as filling that role. shiv's earlier reluctance to have children was partly about her relationship with tom, but was also suggested to be partly a reaction to her fear that if she got pregnant, she would basically be relegated to the domestic sphere forever ('mommed') and would no longer be able to even try to become logan's successor. so, having a baby is useful to the company in terms of the long-term line of succession, but also has the potential to basically exclude shiv herself from the game. it converts her body into something that serves logan's interests in a very different way: she's no longer an employee but a mother.

as to roman, this was the culmination of a long fixation with his father's body. way back at the beginning of the show, roman was the one who denied logan was "an elderly patient" in the hospital; he saw logan as basically invincible, except of course for when the worry would break through ("i heard you tried to kill our dad with the sun"). he asked for one of logan's sweaters to sniff, which is later inverted by roman leaving his suit jacket with logan's body on the plane, then echoed by roman wearing logan's sweater around in 4x05. roman was also seen a few times taking logan's advil, a kind of logan relic and a way for roman to metaphorically consume him, which is resonant given how physically unaffectionate and actually violent logan was with him.

roman also has a fraught relationship with his own body, as shown by the body-checking, his restrictive eating, and his inability to fuck or even take his cock out in front of matsson. roman was disturbed when connor sent the funeral home photo of logan's body, and again when connor was talking about going to visit the body. for roman, bodies in general are a site of violence and shame, and logan's body specifically is something that logan always tried to deny existed or to transcend, yet also the way he physically inflicted pain upon roman. so, roman has this fixation on the physicality of logan's dead body, which both is and isn't logan, and which both disgusts and compels roman. seeing the coffin was disturbing because the body was both hidden and displayed, and roman almost couldn't force himself to believe that logan really was dead or even had a physical body that could be killed. and in the "can we get him out of there" line, roman was sort of hysterically trying to 'free' logan, both from death and from the constricting box, as well as trying to get physically closer to the father he misses greatly and has always both loved and feared.

#you eat me i eat you #stop sending people your blood

[theyscreamjade]

Shouta Aziawa body worshiping his wife after hearing the comments jealous ladies have said about her.

In My Eyes

「 Lemme say I've never ever thought I'd be making a Shouta Aizawa smut, It's one for the books. This is one for the books, I hope you like it! ෆ」

⊰ 18+! (Anyone who’s underaged will be blocked!)ও

↬ word count ᱺ 1.6k ෆ

↬ Disclaimer: Cursing, Sexual Acts, Body Shaming, Postpartum Depression.

A lot has changed. Everything isn’t the same anymore. With a rather reluctant and exhausted sigh, you placed the car in park and sat in the driver’s seat for a while. You gripped the steering wheel before bursting into tears, nearly sobbing as your soft cries became hurt screams. It was needed after the day you had.

You became one of UA’s newest teachers, replacing Midnight. It was an all-hands-on-deck situation and wasn’t the best for you. You just had your first kid, adopted another child, and married your fiancé. It’s been a rather..long long journey. You wiped your tears and composed yourself. It wasn’t the fact what happened to Midnight or immediately going back to school that was bothering you. Oh no…you handled and accepted her death already.

The only issue is…comments. Before you married Shouta, you were a hero. Destined for great things, a fighter, a motivator, and more. You were once skinny, slim, and flexible. Just as flexible as Mirko and that’s saying something. Once you were married and began settling with Shouta, you didn’t change…not until you become pregnant. The pregnancy was a breeze, with barely any morning sicknesses or anything, the downside was the fatty cravings and food you’d devour. Once you have birth to your son, your body adapted and popped into your motherhood body..which wasn’t the best idea.

Your body was thick, you had back fat, arm flaps, a double chin, a chubby tummy, thick thighs, wide hips, and breasts with a thick ass. Your originally size 6 dress size practically doubled and it wasn’t in a good way to others. Students hardly recognized you, teachers gossiped and ridiculed you, and postpartum depression was just increasing by the second. You felt numb, ugly..and undesirable.

“Kitten?” A voice said, snapping you back into reality. You blinked in confusion before you noticed you were in the bathroom, in a towel. You stood right in front of the sink with the water running, your toothbrush still naked in your hand. “You’ve been standing there for a few minutes. Is everything okay?” He asked, walking over to you. He placed his hand on your shoulder which made you jump without an exact reason. “I-I’m okay! I’m fine…I-I’m just going to check on the baby!” You lied, slipping past him towards the bedroom. You slapped on a robe and walked out. You zoned throughout the entire day, eating dinner, playing and acting..with your family and you can’t remember anything.

You peeked into the nursery, seeing the baby sleeping in his crib. He soft sighed and snores as he lay in his swaddle. You checked on Eri next, seeing her fast asleep while holding her Deku doll. You smiled at the sight of them before returning to your bedroom. Another restless night to work at the school again. “What’s wrong?” Shouta demanded, looking at you. “I-I’m fine. I just want to get some sleep…” you lied, not in the mood to argue. Not like as if you and he ever argued but you weren’t going to start now. You reached over to turn the bedroom lights off before something wrapped around your body.

With an easy tug, you were spinning toward Shouta’s arms. He hugged you tightly and rubbed your back. “Is what happened to Nemuri affecting you?” He asked, his hand touching the back of your head as you shook your head. “I-It’s not. It’s not that..” you admitted softly. Nemuri was an important part of your life and your hero life as well. She’s the reason why you and Shouta even started dating, she was this walking ball of confidence and sexual attraction. She barely had to do anything and guys were all over her but she loved herself. Whether she gained weight, lost weight, got bloated, or gathered acne on her skin. She owned it.

“Are you..still attracted to me?” You asked softly, resisting at first but you wanted to know. “What?” He questioned, looking down at you before you pushed him back. “Never mind, let’s go to bed.” You quickly spat, ready to drop the subject. “Kitten, what makes you think I’d not be attracted to you?” He questioned while you plugged your phone in before sitting on the bed with a soft thump. You stared at the wall for a second before hugging yourself. “Because…no one recognized who I am. Not a single student recognized me! All those pathetic teachers did nothing but gossip and talk shit about how I’ve let myself go! How I can’t do anything or even half the shit I could do!” You screamed in anger as tears streamed down your cheeks. “I-I’m not the same person you fell in love with…I’m not sexy, I’m not gorgeous or anything..” you said, trying your hardest to hold your sobs but failing terribly.

A pair of hands cupped each side of your face, holding your face in his hands as he lifted you to look into his eyes. He planted a few kisses on your face and lips, wiping your tears before he kissed you deeply. Tears still formed and streamed from your eyes as he eased you to the bed. His body is between your legs. “Shouta, W-“

“You’re right. You’re not the person I fell in love with…you’re more than that. You’re the person I married, the person I had a child and adopted another with. You were sexy before, you were gorgeous back then..but now, Kitten. You’re fucking libidinous. Every single day, you drive me fucking wild..you’re still pulchritudinous in every single way. You’re gorgeous, you’re still sexy, and there’s nothing that can ever change my damn mind.” He confessed, staring into your eyes. “I don’t care what I’ve got to do just to ensure and prove to you that you’re beautiful every day, I’ll do it..” he whispered, his lips inching closer to yours before they connected. “I love you, Kitten. I’ll never stop loving you..” He whispered against your lips, his hands opening your robe and exposing your body.

His lips immediately latched onto your breasts, sucking the nipple as soft moans escaped from you. Your toes curled with your walls throbbing with excitement. “S-Shouta..” you moaned out, excitement building between the two of you. It felt exactly how it did when you two first did it, or when you conceived your child on your wedding night. Nothing but magic, every single time. He always left you speechless. Your hair gripped his long strands of hair, moving with his head as he ate you out perfectly. His hands gripped your thighs as the thickness of them nearly folded around his fingers. “I-I-I’m close, I’m getting close!” You cried out to him, only to be ignored by him. He was a pleasure dom, after all. He never rests until you’re satisfied. Your back arched as he dove deeper, sucking harder on your clit until you finally climaxed.

Before you could even say a word, he slipped inside you. His eyes stared deep into yours and you knew instantly. It wasn’t just a quickie inside his sleeping bag, it wasn’t just a fast one before the kids returned from training or you gotta keep quiet so the kids won’t hear you two having sex. It was love, it was the sex you desired. Each thrust left you panting, begging, desiring more. It was the string that was once loose reconnecting again, you could feel his heart through his movements. How they never changed, regardless of how much your body has. He still loved you..just the way you were and it never stopped regardless of the position. Missionary, Doggy, Riding him, and cowgirl. Nothing changed.

It was reaching midnight, the bed sheets were tugged, pulled and some even popped from the corners. Pillows were scattered all over the floor, the blanket loosely over his body as he pounded you in his favorite position. Your hands gripped and scratched his back. You’ve came more than once, your mind was beyond blank which was possibly his plan. Shouta leaned close to you, taking your hands away from his back and pacing his fingers with yours as he placed his forehead over yours. Those eyes, the way he could see your soul..and still see more past that. “Say it, say you’re beautiful.” He demanded, feeling your walls clench him tightly. “I-I’m beautiful.” You stammered out, keeping your eyes on his. “Promise me you’ll tell me whenever you’re having doubts.” “I-I-I promise! I swear baby!” You moaned out, feeling the knot getting tighter as he pounded harder. His tip enters deep into your velvet, cum-covered walls. Each thrust pushed your legs back a bit further. “Who’s my beautiful fucking kitten?” He asked, feeling your body shake just as a wave crashed onto your system. In other words, you were cumming. “I-I am! I’m beautiful!” You cried out, loud enough for him to hear and possibly the whole neighborhood.

With a final deep thrust, he lay beside you and looked over at you. “How do you feel now?” He asked, turning towards you as he placed his hand on his cheek. “You could’ve just talked to me..or suggested a counselor.” You said in a joking tone, shuffling over into his arms. He chuckled and rubbed your back, his arms wrapping around your body. “This was more effective, besides…I needed help too.” He mumbled softly, kissing the top of your forehead. “…Shouta?” You asked softly. “Hm?” He replied, opening one eye and looking down at you. “Thank you…” you whispered, kissing his chest before his hand lifted your leg and placed it on his side. He pulled you as close as you could to him, kissing your shoulder and covering you completely. “I love you, Kitten.” He whispered, holding you as he could. He leaned close to your ear and whispered.

“There’s nothing that’ll ever change that.”

#mha #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #i hope you like this #bnha imagines #my hero academy fanfiction #shouta aizawa imagine #shouta x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #bnha shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa smut #shouta aizawa x you #shouta aizawa fanart #eraser head #aizawa sensei #shouta aizawa headcanons

[lime-bloods]

Do you have anything on the nature of doc scratch as a groomer in the context of kanaya’s rather positive description of his influence in her life vs the way he treated vriska? Sorry if this sounds vague idk what im looking for specifically

old ask because i was thinking on it for a little bit so i apologise, but i guess i don't think there is necessarily this contrast between a positive experience on Kanaya's part and a negative experience on Vriska's part. if Kanaya does have a neutral or even positive memory of Scratch's influence on her early life, that's at least partially down to Kanaya's more passive demeanor and in least one big part down to the fact that she probably just does not remember what it was that he did.

both girls were groomed, certainly, but Scratch is telling a characteristic truth when he insists upon his own asexuality, because he does not groom for pleasure but of course for a purpose, and Kanaya and Vriska were simply made for different purposes. which, of course, in turn reflects on their differing demeanors - after all a storyteller has no ability to alter the truth about someone's personality, only to twist how that personality is portrayed. from Hussie's commentary: "[Scratch is] always there at the right moment to nudge people in the direction of doing the nasty thing that, deep down, they already know they want to do."

i guess i might argue that it's unlikely any feelings Vriska and Kanaya might or might not have toward their old mentor are really about Scratch as "a person" or what he specifically did at all, for two related reasons. firstly that I don't think anyone really "remembers" what it is Scratch "did" to them because he's, really, almost beyond "doing" things to people; he acts in the nudging and rearranging of ideas, which live solely in the subconscious and in the genes (as kind of discussed or vaguely mused about here) and not in living memory.

in this sense, in this specific context, i'm often reluctant to even refer to Scratch with titles like "character" because he essentially asserts himself as an inevitable narrative force whose motives can no more be analysed than the motives of the sun or the night sky. the effects of Scratch's manipulations are ultimately not so much things he has "done" as they are the things he has caused others to do; which is really the crux of my second reason, that to have feelings about "what Scratch did" is really just to have feelings about where your life has taken you - railing against the narrator is just railing at God, and railing at God is for all intents and purposes railing at your own life. for Vriska, the path God sent her down led to destruction in her own life and in the lives of everybody around her, while in Kanaya's case the manipulations were so subtle that it is still not entirely clear to us what they involved; she was awoken to Skaia's light and seemingly grew to be a vampire as a result. if there weren't so much suspicious mystery surrounding what Scratch would have even done to cause this awakening in the first place, one might even be tempted to think of these manipulations as "benign", in comparison to Vriska's, if it weren't that there simply can be no benign act of God in Homestuck.

but ultimately Scratch as a storyteller understands that his story needs good girls and bad girls, passive and active players, and while we're all intimately aware of the heavy load of baggage Homestuck's chosen heroes are saddled with - a part in which Kanaya's burden of motherhood no doubt plays - the fact that Vriska spent so much of her life convinced that she had been given the good girl hat probably contributed no small amount to the psychological knock-on effects of being groomed into the bad girl.