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tenseoyong · 1 year

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Aemond loves his little family.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aemond Targaryen loves his little family.

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fandomsandfeminism · 2 years

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Thinking about the Library of Alexandria.

Or at least the *myth* of the Library of Alexandria. You know, the greatest Library in the world, a monument of learning and reading and culture, cataclysmically destroyed in one terrible fire, knowledge lost forever, etc etc. It feels like this great tragedy of history, this terrible loss to humanity.

And it's not...true.

We actually have a lot of sources that show that the library had been in decline for a few centuries before then. Between some scholars getting exiled, a general diaspora of the scholars who remained, lack of funding, and diminishing prestige, it seems that the library's collection and scholarship was already greatly diminished, moved elsewhere.

It's true that Caesars troops did set fire to some ships in the harbor in 48BCE, and that fire did spread through the city. The Library was likely damaged, and some of its materials likely destroyed... but not completely. And it was repaired or rebuilt not long after. (One source even hints that it wasn't the library proper, but some warehouses owned by the library near the docks that burned.)

And the Library continued to exist for at least a few more centuries. Never at the same scale and prestige as it has at its height, but still there as a resource to scholars until at least the 270s CE.

But that's less exciting I guess. Less tragic, maybe. Less dramatic. That instead of it being a terrible accident, an act of the Gods, a perfect symbol at how the folly of war can tumble great monuments- Instead its just...about how underfunded Institutions and lack of support from the government towards academics will rot these great institutions slowly but surely.

And I wonder what it says about us that we find one of those stories more emotionally compelling and evocative than the other.

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rinixo · 1 year

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sulfur and granite

Din Djarin/Reader | 2.7k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, Jealous Din Djarin, smut, piv sex, semi-intense consensual sex, aftercare.

On a short detour to Tattooine, you are introduced to the Marshal. Mando is definitely not jealous.

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Non-linear oneshots featuring you, a university scholar from Naboo who is helping The Mandalorian seek out the Jedi.

a/n: I imagine Mando would not know how to comfortably express feelings of jealousy/possessiveness right away, but ultimately would be respectful towards his partner's desires.

read on ao3

You weren’t sure what planet you’d choose if you had to pick your favorite, but you were fairly certain that Tattooine wouldn’t even make your top ten. You had only been there a few times, and each time you had left with an uncomfortable amount of sand in an uncomfortable amount of places. The only redeeming quality in your eyes were the brilliant binary sunsets the arid rock offered, but even then there were hundreds of other places in the galaxy where you could see those.

When Mando charted course for Tattooine, you bit your tongue. He said he needed to talk to an ‘old friend’ in some tiny, middle-of-nowhere town, and seeing as you were along for the ride, you steeled yourself for another day of brushing sand out of all of your clothing.

Mando had not given you much information, which you didn’t particularly mind. This was mainly a detour on your journey through the galaxy – some kind of favor he needed to repay or something, you surmised. His ‘old friend’ was only described as ‘The Marshal’, and you wondered what kind of law enforcement a syndicated crime planet like Tattooine could even harbor.

Mando landed the Crest on the outskirts of the city one late afternoon. You, Grogu, and your armored patron walked the short distance into the town to where a man dressed in red was waiting for you.

“Good to see you,” the man called out, moving forward to grasp Mando’s arm in greeting. You hung back slightly, feeling a little out of your element when the man happened to glance past the bounty hunter and catch your gaze.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” The Marshal sauntered forward, an easy grin matching his easy gait. He was quite handsome, you decided. Nice peppery-gray hair, eyes lined with laughter. He reached out for your hand, which you gave with a quiet giggle as he brought it to his lips.

“Don’t tell me she’s one of your bounties, Mando.” The Marshal directed at the Mandalorian as he kissed the back of your hand flirtatiously. “Cause I might be tempted to play the hero and rescue her from your clutches-“

“She’s helping me on my journey,” Mando interrupted flatly. There was a wink of humor in the Marshal’s gaze as he released your hand, only to wrap one arm around your shoulder.

“Well, then, welcome,” he exclaimed. “Any friend of Mando’s is a friend of mine, er…?”

You shared your name, and the man began to walk you toward what you assumed was the local cantina. It was past midday, and it looked like the building was the gathering place for most of the locals as they ended the day. Several people greeted the Marshal as he pointed out different landmarks to you, indicating that he was just as popular among his people as you would have assumed based on his appearance and looks alone.

Mando trailed along just slightly behind the two of you, Grogu tucked in his sack at his side.

“Can I buy you a drink?” The Marshal asked, motioning to the bartender. Two glasses of blue liquor were poured, and the charming man held one out to you.

“Sure,” you smiled. It had been a while since you had let yourself indulge. Even on the rare occasions you and Mando stopped someplace with alcohol, it was mainly for information or to pick up supplies to take on the go. Not to mention the fact that Mando never took off his helmet.

The Marshal – who you later found out was named Cobb Vanth – clinked his glass against yours and the two of you took healthy swigs of the slightly sour drink. Wincing, you matched the handsome man’s grin as he leaned casually against the bar.

“So tell me,” he drawled, swirling his drink In his glass. “What’s a girl like you doing hanging around a Mandalorian bounty hunter?”

You vaguely registered Mando hovering off to the side. He did not ask for a drink, nor did you think he would accept if one was even offered. You glanced over at him, wondering if you should defer to him – he had wanted to come to Freetown to speak with the Marshal, who was currently more fixated on you. On the other hand…it had been a while since you had a chance to talk to someone who wasn’t a literal child.

Turning to focus your attention on Cobb, you explained your background and talked generally about what you were doing for Mando. You left out most of the details in the interest of protecting both his and Grogu’s safety but were secretly delighted that the man did not pry for answers. Instead, he asked questions about you – where you were from, your research, your favorite parts of the galaxy you had seen thus far. He had a charming way of speaking, and a quick wit, and you found yourself losing track of time as the conversation flowed steadily into the evening.

At some point, Cobb had procured a small table for the two of you, and you perched on the edge of your seat as he explained how he had come to meet the Mandalorian. He laughed at how your jaw dropped during the tale of how Mando had flown into the mouth of a krayt dragon to blow it up from the inside. You spared another glace towards the bounty hunter, who hadn’t moved since you had entered the cantina. His helmet was fixed on you, and though you couldn’t see his eyes something told you his gaze was fixed on you. The feeling sent a slight shiver up your spine.

Seeming to notice, Cobb reached out and placed a calloused hand over your own. “It has truly been a pleasure,” he smiled. “But I better go speak to Mando before he burns a hole through both our heads.” You returned his smile and stood – albeit a little wobbly from the several drinks you had consumed over the past hour or so.

The Marshal beckoned for someone to come over, and explained that they would show you to a room you could stay in for the night. As he did so, Mando walked over, his bulk just millimeters from your back. You opened your mouth to greet him, but he just handed you Grogu in his sack and asked that you take the now-sleeping baby with you.

“Of course,” you said, gently taking the child into your arms. “See you later?”

Mando did not answer you and instead took your seat across from Cobb. The Marshal wished you a good night, and you followed the young woman he had procured to show you to your room.

An hour later, you were freshly bathed and had changed into a clean set of clothes. The room was decently sized, if not a bit dusty from lack of use. It held one large bed along with several chairs and a small table and was attached to a small side room that had a smaller bed. You had tucked Grogu into the smaller bed in the side room, closing the door gently so that you could prepare for sleep without waking him up.

You laid against the pillows and were browsing your datapad when the sound of the door sliding open signaled the arrival of Mando. You watched him clunk into the room over the top of your datapad. He stood in the middle of the room for a moment, a tension in the atmosphere having followed him in. “Where’s the kid?” He asked, and you pointed to the side room. He walked over to the door and opened it slightly to peer inside. Satisfied, he gently closed it and continued to stand there in the middle of the room.

“Have a good chat?” You asked, breaking the frigid silence after it became clear he was not going to. Mando settled into a chair heavily, spreading his legs and resting his arms on those of the chair.

“Was gonna ask you the same thing,” he rasped in response, and you raised a brow in question.

“What do you mean?” You asked, tapping a nail against the side of your datapad. Mando raised one shoulder in a half-shrug.

“You two seemed to hit it off.”

“Who? Me and Cobb?” You set down your datapad and crossed your arms. “He was nice.”

You could hardly believe the scoff you heard from the man. “Sure. That’s one way to put it.”

“Are you jealous?”

“…No.”

“You are,” you expanded, uncrossing your arms and swinging your legs over to hang over the side of the bed. “You’re upset that he was flirting with me, aren’t you?”

Mando was silent, and you wondered if his jaw was clenched under that helmet. You looked at him expectantly, and he sighed.

“I’m not upset,” you tried to clarify. “I think that’s just how he is. It’s ok to be jealous, Mando.”

“I am not jealous,” he grit out, and you tried to hide a smirk. Standing, you swayed over to stand in front of him. You were wearing an old oversized tunic that came just above your knees, and not much else. You stepped in between his spread thighs, your bare legs bumping against his armor. Even sitting, his head was nearly level with your own. Were you pushing it, standing naked from the waist down in between the legs of a dangerous and definitely jealous man? Perhaps.

“Then why were you staring at us the whole time?” You teased. “Mad that your friend was talking to me and not you?”

“I was waiting for him to make a move,” Mando interrupted. “To touch you.”

“Yeah?” You queried, and in a burst of bravery, you sat lightly on one of his broad thighs. You felt him tense underneath you, even through the armor, and resettle his weight back In the chair to support you more firmly. “What was your plan if he had made a move?”

One of his gloved hands came to rest on your bare thigh, and he slowly pulled it towards him, forcing your legs to spread slightly. His hand rubbed soft circles into your flesh, and you shifted so that your back was supported against the side of the chair.

“Hauling you over my shoulder and back into my ship,” Mando husked, hand venturing further up your thigh, under the hem of the long tunic. Your breath hitched as his fingers brushed lightly over your bare cunt. “And reminding you.”

One of his fingers ran up and down your slit, and you shifted again, trying to get him to put more pressure where you wanted it. “Remind me of what?” You asked breathlessly. Mando’s other hand crept up your back to grip your neck, forcing you to arch in his lap. He stood, hauling you up against him with ease. He half-dragged you over to the bed, sitting down so that he could pull you up against his back into his lap.

“This,” he said simply, spreading your thighs wider and grinding his hips up into your backside. You could feel him, hot and hard under his flight suit, and you let out a low moan at the sensation. One hand roamed over your shaking thighs, playing with the slick gathering between your legs, while the other came up to cross against your chest, holding you tightly against him.

“I was thinking,” Mando continued, sounding almost casual in his tone and timbre, “Of how to show you what you’d be missing. How to show other men that you spend your nights in my bed.”

You licked your lips, feeling air-light as he rasped through the modulator into your ear. His fingers between your legs alternated from pinching your swollen clit to probing your entrance.

“That’s what I was thinking,” he said lowly. “What were you thinking, wicked girl?”

“I’m thinking you should just fuck me already,” you gasped out, and Mando laughed. It echoed through your blank mind like smoke, and your eyes fluttered closed as two of his thick fingers slid tightly inside of you, thumb pressing against your clit. Your hips bucked at the sensation, only to be held tight in his iron grip.

“Can you be quiet?” Mando asked throatily, and you could feel the rumble of it from his chest. “The kid is sleeping…and who knows who else might be listening?”

“I thought you wanted them to know,” you whimpered, and his grip on you loosened for a millisecond before he stood and flipped you face-first onto the bed. The back of your tunic was pushed up as he pushed your shoulders down to the mattress, and dragged your hips up toward where he stood behind you.

“Keep quiet,” he gruffed out, and you heard the familiar sound of his belt coming undone and felt his bare hips warm against your ass. “You only cry for me, understand?”

“Y-ye-“ you barely had a chance to respond before he shoved his throbbing cock into you, punching the air out of your lungs in one solid thrust. Keening, you let your head fall against your arms as Mando gripped your hips firmly and began a steady, brutal pace.

He spread your thighs as wide as they would go so that you could take all of him in with every thrust. Something about his hands on your hips and the way he moved you felt necessary – deep, intense thrusts that would resist anything except acceptance from him. The bed creaked from his weight against your body, along with the rich sound of his hips slapping against yours.

The superiority of this angle made you focus on the place where he filled you like it was the center of your universe. You bit into the flesh of your arm in an attempt to silence the keening cries that wanted to escape from your throat. Mando groaned above you, and his pace quickened.

“This what you wanted?” he husked lowly. “To come on my cock? Come on, wicked girl, come on-“

You choked out a wordless plea as his weight came down across your thighs, and his cock rammed as far as it could go. You knew you would feel the ache of him inside of you for days.

“M-mando-“ you keened again, and you felt his grip on your hips clench harder.

“Gotta be quiet,” he rasped. “Want them to hear how you’re spread open for my cock?” You could feel your orgasm approaching like a ship preparing to exit hyperspace. You were sure nothing in your life would ever feel as good, as full, as right as the heavy weight of his cock inside of you.

The frantic clutch of your cunt wrung from Mando his own release. He all but collapsed onto you, wrapping you up so that you disappeared into his embrace. You came with a muffled scream, your leg going numb from the release of tension and the weight of the man fucking his semen into you.

Not allowing you reprieve, Mando groaned and collapsed onto his side, rolling you so that you were pressed up against him. His iron-hard cock was still inside of you, throbbing its release, and his hand came down between your legs to tweak at your clit. “Again,” he demanded, and you threw your head back and hit it against his helmet. He shoved the fingers of his other hand into your mouth to silence your cries as you came again, obediently, at the clumsy push of his fingers against your sore cunt.

Your body jerked against him, twitching from the edge of overstimulation. His cock, still streaming cum, slid out of you, pulsing the last of his release over your flushed entrance. For a while, all that could be heard was the sound of your breaths easing back from near hyperventilation. Mando’s grip on you was still possessive, but he shushed you gently and murmured praise into the back of your neck, hands circling your skin to ground your consciousness back down to him.

After that, Mando gently slid from behind you and lifted you into his arms. Your legs still shook from the onslaught, and he carried you quietly to the refresher where he helped you wipe yourself clean.

“All right?” He murmured as he brought a soft cloth to your inner thighs. You smiled sleepily and leaned your head forward to lay against his chest, pressing a soft kiss to the cold metal.

“If that wasn’t you being jealous,” you whispered, “Maybe next time I should flirt back.”

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

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fancyfeathers · 5 months

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Yandere genshin thought (normalized AU)

Inspired by this thread

A group of darlings from all over Teyvat, runaways from all over…

A painter from Mondstadt, she has never been kidnapped or even gone anywhere remotely against her will. But the knights of the nation are overbearing in their affections, her studio flooded with flowers, knights stopping by at any and every hour of the day to check on her, bring her sweets, and so on. She’s be flooded for requests to dance at festivals and soon all those requests break out into fights for her affection and honor between knights, so she runs..

Along the way she meets a simple young woman from the lands of Liyue. A young woman from a poor family, who had arranged for her to marry a well off man from the harbor who had been infatuated with her. She doesn’t want to be another pretty thing to sit on the shelf so she runs…

Together they meet another darling in Inazuma, a woman who wished to become a shrine maidan to avoid being taken by the head of the Yashiro Commission. She is a shy and timid thing, can barely look anyone in the eye all she wants is to live a free life and not be a housewife. So she packs up what little she has and runs…

The fourth member of this group is a kind woman from the nation of Sumeru. She wasn’t a genius or a wise scholar, a shop owner… well she was until everything she ever had crumbled before her eyes thanks to the Akademiya's scribe since she has completely rejected his advances, saying that she barely knows anything about how this world functions and that she needs him to survive. So gathering the last of her mora, she meets the rest of them in the dead of night and runs.

Then the four of them find themselves in Fontaine, in the home of a noble family, a young woman being the only one left. Her parents had been executed years ago when they were tried for their supposed crime that they never even committed, leaving her alone with their family’s ruined reputation. It was only a matter of time before she looses the last of her family fortune and she has to take the supreme justice up on his marriage proposal so she doesn’t end up on the streets and left for gods knows who to kidnap and sell on the black market. So destroys all she has left so no one can have evidence to follow her and she runs…

skipping Natlan cause I got nothing

The last member of this group they don’t even find in her homeland of Snezhnaya. She had ran away months ago when the eleventh of the Fatui harbingers who had been pursuing her for months asked her parents for permission to marry her. Without a thought her parents agreed with enthusiastic joy, already planning for her wedding and to expand their family. When she ran it was in the dead of winter, she almost died in that snow and once she got to a warmer place it took days for her fingers and toes to regain their feeling. Still even now she still has to run, the Fatui are around every corner…

At least now…

She has people to run with…

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere ayato #yandere kaeya #yandere alhaitham #yandere neuvillette #yandere childe

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aluraveil · 1 year

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I’m brainrotting about Alhaitham and Kaveh sharing a darling.

Imagine this. Alhaitham has been trying so hard to win your heart over. He’s read books about advice for romance, spoken with other scholars for advice on relationships, and he’s wrote down all the things you like to do. Oh you like Padisarah’s? Expect Alhaitham to obtain a bouquet of them for you.

So why don’t you still fall for Alhaitham the way he’s head over heels for you? He’s tried everything but you just don’t like feel the same way for him. You try to tell him that nicely but Alhaitham’s is as stubborn as a rock. Alhaitham sees this as a challenge with you playing hard to get.

But unfortunately, you don’t harbor any feelings for someone like Alhaitham. In your eyes, his heart is cold as stone.

Imagine Kaveh who hears word of the Akademiya’s grand scribe trying to court you. Kaveh can’t believe it once he gets wind of it. Alhaitham trying to court you? It must be some joke.

So Kaveh decides to do a little investigating and he finds out that he’s trying to court you. Kaveh is initially surprised but then again, you’re really lovely. Who wouldn’t want to court you?

Soon Kaveh finds himself developing a little crush on you and tries to court you himself much to Alhaitham’s annoyance. With Kaveh’s funny and cute personality, you found yourself beginning to feel head over heels for him.

You blush at Kaveh’s attempts at flirting with you. Seeing you laugh at Kaveh’s funny jokes makes Alhaitham furious.

Alhaitham tried everything to get you to notice him. But you decide to fall for his own roommate? Now that just makes him pissed.

When you agree to be in a relationship with Kaveh, it makes Alhaitham’s blood boil.

But since Kaveh and Alhaitham live in the same house, they agree to reach a compromise. And that means the both of them will share you as their darling <3

#yandere alhaitham #yandere al haitham #yandere kaveh #kaveh x reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #al haitham #kaveh genshin #genshin kaveh #genshin impact #genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin imagines #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #al haitham x you #kaveh #kaveh x you

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frankingsteinery · 7 months

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been sitting on this for awhile because its a bit controversial, but its one of the main reasons i was pushed into the frankenstein fandom space so i figured it was high time to talk about it

ive noticed that theres this general opinion, both among scholars and present in more fandom-y spaces, that victor is somehow effeminate for what are ultimately symptoms of disability (fainting spells, being bedridden, hysteria, etc) as if being physically or mentally ill is something that is inherently feminine. i have read articles published by academics that victor’s sickness is proof of his “femininity,” which is why he wants to take on the traditional part of a woman, that is, childbirth (via creature)

even in general, and not on an academic level, it emerges in jokes or memes all over the place — people poking at victor for being weak, or sick, or a gay little UWU bean sub, because aw hes fainting all the time XD and he’s sooo dramatic! as if these things were somehow both his choice, and somehow innately feminine

so, not only is there this weird link people are attempting to draw between disability and femininity, but also queerness (particularly, ive noticed, being a “bottom” or “sub” — but thats a whole separate can of worms) and femininity. as if being either of these things is inherently girly or cutesy and thus worthy of being made fun of

there comes a point (particularly when these interpretations leak into broader understandings of something via pop culture), where, for lack of a better word, it comes off as fetishizing or romanticizing queerness and/or queer relationships

and while this may seem relatively harmless on the surface and comes off as just thoughtless jokes made in bad taste, it IS serious. not just within the context of frankenstein, but the general premise of the severity that even subconscious reinforcement of detrimental and stereotypical ideas should be treated with. its a slippery slope from jokes to notions that affect you and how you see the world

this is obviously part of a broader problem with the way disability, gender, identity and etc is thought about and taught, which results in people harboring all sorts of these types of underlying prejudices. its just that victor happens to be a particularly good example, wherein he is a feminized man that is ascribed as “weak,” and the attribute “weak” is ascribed to someone who has been historically analyzed as both disabled and queer. this has been reinforced for decades, and i feel like this treatment of his character in this way is so blatantly obvious and runs rampant while it goes nearly entirely unchecked — and also in the case of frankenstein discourse, its often a quadruple whammy (ableism, misogyny, transphobia, homophobia)

and the worst part is that it is so often completely unintentional, and the bulk of this sort of content are well-meaning jokes. i genuinely don’t think people do this in bad faith or out of malice, but spreading these concepts even in formats that appear to be harmless (jokes, memes) just contribute to and continue to spread these ideas and stereotypes. its frustrating because its hard to point out and bring attention to without coming off as nitpicky or overly sensitive because this sort of thing is just so SUBTLE, and these beliefs are so gradually learned and then reinforced on a subconscious level

i could go on but for risk of sounding redundant ill digress, however to be clear this is not me saying you cant view victor as transfem, or disabled, or queer (i do!), or to view him as feminine, or etc, but that you should look at the reasons for WHY you think so, and how you or others treat the subject when talking about it.

#rob.txt #frankenstein #frankenstein the modern prometheus #victor frankenstein #gothic lit #if this warrants any tws let me know #analysis #ish

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itsokbbygrl · 2 months

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Proper Education: A Dark!Joel Saltburn AU Chapter 1: Fair is Foul, and Foul is Fair

Pairing: Dark!Joel Miller x OFC!Reader (written in 2nd POV)

Chapter Rating: M for foul language, underage drinking, mentions of sexual activity and drug use

Word Count: 1.1k, just a baby chapter to kick things off (don't get used to this, most of these chapters will be monsters)

Reader Immersibility: OFC is insanely white coded (frankly this whole story is full of white nonsense), she is from an old money wealthy family that owns an estate from the Gilded Age in New York, she is 18 years old, a college freshman at University of Texas at Austin, and is considered beautiful by society's standards in 2006 which means she is thin, has long hair, and is able bodied. She is relatively smart, but by no means a scholar. She is very sociable and often uses her charm to get her way. Story is written in 2nd person POV so the reader can feel what she is feeling as the story progresses and to keep the reader’s perspective limited as things start to get weird whacky and wild, but it will be difficult for the average reader to see themselves as her physically (myself included, trust me).

Chapter Tags: 18+ MDNI, foul language, implied drug use, underage drinking, mentions of sexual activity, college freshman aged OFC, rich white people doing rich white people things, author is requesting that you suspend your disbelief for some of these things!!!, OFC's family estate is a real place but is not a family home, liberties are taken with regard to UTA student life, inspired by Saltburn

Dividers by @pommecita, story is not beta'd, just written and edited by yours truly

Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o’ th’ milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way. -Lady Macbeth, Act 1 Scene 5

The car slows to a stop in front of the familiar old tower. The stone structure bleached by unrelenting ultraviolet rays from the unrelenting sun baring down an omnipresent heat. You’d almost forgotten what it was like, the Texan summer. Almost.

Your driver removes your luggage from the trunk of the black town car as you exit from your seat and step into the perpetually sticky August air, shading your eyes with a hand at your brow so you can properly thank him before you reach for your purse and leave him with a generous tip. You can’t remember his name, but you’re thankful for his service nonetheless. You’ve long become accustomed to a variety of faces in your family’s employ weaving in and out of your life; he is simply another face and name to add to the ever-increasing register.

Your family sent the majority of your things ahead of move-in day, the university easily agreeing to transport them to your suite in student housing, a benefit of having your last name on one of the buildings, you rationalize, leaving you with a single suitcase and weekend bag to attend to on your own as you make your way to the designated key pickup zone.

You were regretting your choice of attire the farther you strode across campus. You’d spent the last three months of your summer break idling at your family’s Long Island estate. The cool sea air making you quickly forget how unabating the summer heat was in landlocked central Texas. Your family had escaped the annual calefaction just after your graduation, retreating from your home in the rolling hills of Austin to the cool serenity of the Island. The estate is grandiose, passed through generations and now belonging to your mother and father. A bit gaudy in its opulence, in your opinion, but you harbor many fond memories from your summers spent there throughout your life—running through the vast gardens, sunning yourself on the meticulously manicured lawns, learning to golf and play tennis and swim, and as you grew a bit older, partaking in the many lavish parties hosted by your parents and grandparents alike, kissing boys in secret corridors, drunkenly losing your virginity in the grand library, gleefully breaking your D.A.R.E. pledges with your dear sister and cousin in your bathroom the first time someone brings over a tiny plastic baggie full of unlabeled white powder.

Your exposed skin glistened with sweat; low rise denim skirt clinging to the skin at your hips, skin beginning to chafe uncomfortably between your thighs. You were glad you’d opted to clip your hair up in a classic twist before you’d gotten off the plane, keeping your neck free from being insulated by your thick tresses. You’re thankful for the many trips to campus over your lifetime as you head towards the designated booth for freshmen to pick up their dorm keys. You’re a fourth generation Longhorn, a legacy, and you know you have a reputation to uphold. You try to keep your face poised, relaxed, friendly, as the growing beads of moisture begin to drip in tiny rivulets between your breasts and along the central dip of your spine.

You introduce yourself to the upperclassman working the table for your building and complete the requisite paperwork before you’re handed your keys—one for your door, one for your personal mailbox—and instructed to stop in the lobby before you drop off your items so you can have your student identification badge issued.

“Your ID works like a key to get into the building after 10pm. Don’t lose it,” you’re warned by the table attendant.

“Thank you, I’ll be careful,” you answer congenially, leaving them with a charming smile before you head in the direction of your dorm.

You find your building without issue and reluctantly have your picture taken by the residence hall staff for your student ID. They give you a rundown of the general building rules—curfew is 10pm, after which time only residents with their programmed ID badges will be permitted entrance, all overnight guests must be checked in at the front desk with a government or student ID, no alcohol or illicit drugs are permitted on the premises, smoking is not permitted inside the building—and you maintain eye contact with the staffer and smile and nod while you let their words flow in one ear and out the other.

Once you finish signing your agreement to follow the established residence hall code of conduct, your student ID has been printed and programmed. You take the badge with kind smiles and ample thanks before you haul your luggage to the elevator and make your way to your assigned room. A private double room all to yourself. Your parents insisted, making sure you’d have enough space to study and relax in equal measure.

“Sweetpea, you know how it is there, those RAs are not gonna be as lenient as your daddy and I with the,” your mother stops her sentence and gestures, mimicking smoking a joint with one hand and drinking from a bottle with the other. She had sat on the other end of the plush sofa with you as you debated which residence hall to choose after coming home after your new student orientation the previous spring.

You scoffed and kicked out a leg, painted toes bumping her thigh.

“What? I’m just sayin’, babydoll. You’re a good time, college is a good time, but the RAs can be real,” she lowers her voice, “cunts.” She snickers a laugh at her own crudeness.

“Mama, I know. I just thought it was part of the,” you raise both of your hands, forefingers and middle fingers miming quotation marks in the air, “college experience to have a random roommate or whatever.” You look back at the brochures in front of you and sigh before relenting. “I guess you’re right. The privacy will be nice.”

“Damn straight, baby. Plus, you don’t have to worry about a roommate being around when you bring a nice young man home to fu—”

“MOM, jesus,” you cut her off, shaking your head as she laughs.

“What?! Baby girl you are my daughter, that means you’re half of me, and I fully know what that entails, ok? No reason to be ashamed of it, you’re young and gorgeous. Enjoy it while it lasts,” she tips her glass of white wine in your direction. You reach for your own on the coffee table, lifting it to hers, allowing the crystal to clink and chime in cheers as you both take a sip.

You use your new key to unlock your door and haul your bags inside, finding boxes stacked neatly in the corner for you to unpack. “Welcome home, I guess,” you say to the four walls you’ll call home for the next year.

Navigation: Chapter 2: coming soon | Series Masterlist

a/n: thank you for reading! this is a multi-chaptered work in process with new chapters being posted approximately every other Friday at or around 7pm CT (pending my work schedule changing to late shift). please consider not only liking, but reblogging and leaving a comment or tags to give me some feedback! reblogs are the only way content is circulated on this platform and are always appreciated!

follow @itsokbbygrl-notifs and subscribe to notifications to receive notice when new chapters are posted.

#LJ writes #joel miller x oc #joel miller x reader #joel miller x original character #joel miller x you #joel x reader #joel x oc #joel x you #dark!fic #dark!joel miller #WIP #fan fiction #ongoing #ongoing series #proper education fic

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seraphiism · 1 year

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𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄 !

chara : alhaitham fandom : genshin impact

alhaitham, light of your life, absolutely normal scribe, feeble scholar, very average person, is not the nicest man you know, nor is he the rudest. he is also the strangest yet simultaneously ordinary person you know, and you are not sure how you feel about that.

so is it weird that he's at your doorstep, bouquet in hand? yes. a little bit.

a lot, actually.

you stare blankly at him, meet his deadpan expression head on. you are not sure what to say. are you flattered? yes, absolutely. but you are also more stunned than anything.

"alhaitham," you finally speak up, eyebrow raised at his silence as he offers the flowers without a single greeting or explanation, "you, uh--" you want to say he's not very good at this, because in your defense, he literally has not said anything to you. you choose otherwise, however, opt for a gentle smile that his stoic expression seemingly softens at. "hello to you, too."

"good morning." his gaze shifts between you and the flowers. "i don't like having my hands full."

"figuratively, i thought."

he shrugs, gestures you to take the bouquet.

"and physically."

there's a slight curve of the lips when he hears your laughter, a wave of relief washing over him when you accept the gift. he clears his throat loudly, thinks to excuse himself from your presence, but you are quick to invite him inside, offer safe harbor from pointless interactions and meaningless conversations.

no, alhaitham is not very good at this whole courting ordeal, you think, swatting his arm lightly with the bouquet, but you both love it all the more.

#genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham is so Regular but also not . i just know this is canon #here's smth short bc i spent forever doing a discussion and need smth fun to write <3 #i jst think his dynamic with reader is 'i am interested in you and you will know it . accept these flowers or else' and reader is just like #'um . okay ( affectionate )'#.: writing

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tylermileslockett · 11 months

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Read this amazing poem called ITHAKA by C.P. Cavafy about Odysseus travels home, but its also a great poem for advice about the journey of life.

Ithaka

BY C. P. CAVAFY

TRANSLATED BY EDMUND KEELEY

As you set out for Ithaka

hope your road is a long one,

full of adventure, full of discovery.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:

you’ll never find things like that on your way

as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,

as long as a rare excitement

stirs your spirit and your body.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them

unless you bring them along inside your soul,

unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.

May there be many summer mornings when,

with what pleasure, what joy,

you enter harbors you’re seeing for the first time;

may you stop at Phoenician trading stations

to buy fine things,

mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,

sensual perfume of every kind—

as many sensual perfumes as you can;

and may you visit many Egyptian cities

to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaka always in your mind.

Arriving there is what you’re destined for.

But don’t hurry the journey at all.

Better if it lasts for years,

so you’re old by the time you reach the island,

wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,

not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.

Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.

Without her you wouldn't have set out.

She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.

Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,

you’ll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.

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silkjade · 2 years

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two falling sparks, one willing fool

Featuring—alhaitham x reader (ft. zhongli) ⤀ warnings: gn!reader, love triangle, pining, slight angst ⤀ a/n: I'm not sure if it's confirmed canon but I like to think that zhongli's scholar friend from sumeru is alhaitham (wangshu inn bulletin board). also! ya ok this is unedited because I wrote this instead of my research paper lmao help

“Please,” you whine, voice hushed as you pretend to peruse the bookshelf in front of you, “just this once haitham, how often do I even ask for favors?” al-haitham rolls his eyes at the way you’re practically begging him to leave.

You had been pestering the scribe ever since zhongli had stepped out of the room to brew a pot of tea. it was a rare occurrence, but since baiju guesthouse had double-booked your rooms, the least zhongli could do now was extend an offer into his home. He didn’t mind of course, especially not when he so enjoyed the company of his friends from afar.

“And why exactly do I have to go? It's been a long day and I’d actually like to get some rest. you can go if you’re so restless.”

“I just want some time alone is all,” you mumble, all of a sudden shy.

“My point still stands. Why don’t you go for a walk then? Liyue harbor is plenty safe even at this hour so I’ll stay here with- ”

“No!” al-haitham narrows his eyes at your tone. He's not fond of the way you answered so quickly– too quickly in his opinion– nor the way your eyes were frantically wide, your face flustered. In a different context… it might have been cute, he thinks. But he knows better than to let himself melt from the effects of your eyes alone. To the common observer, it was subtle, almost imaginary, but he knew you much too well to miss your flirtatious cues. Plus, zhongli hadn’t exactly been trying to hide his attraction towards you either. Al-haitham feels his brow twitch at the mere thought of it all; he didn’t understand why watching the both of you interact all day irritated him to no end. Or rather, he wasn’t ready to admit it.

Al-haitham scoffs, his voice raising slightly. “If you think I’m going to bend over backwards just so you can seduce-”

“Be quiet,” you hiss, attempting to clamp a hand over his mouth, “and it’s not seducing if he likes me back. Besides, weren’t you complaining about how the inn only had one room? Well, zhongli also only has one guestroom… don’t you… want it for yourself?”

You look at him as if it were the most obvious solution in the world and al-haitham fights the urge to bang his head against the dark wood of the bookshelf behind him. Repeatedly. It doesn’t take a scholar, much less one of his caliber, to figure out what you were implying. A blanket of dread settles over him, leaving a heaviness that weighs down his heart– the final amalgamation of all he’s felt, hidden under the guise of irritation.

Before al-haitham has the chance to recover with another retort, zhongli re-emerges from his kitchen, setting down a teapot and three cups. It would be much more difficult to leave abruptly, now that the host himself was also in the room, even more so if he were to start talking. And who was he to behave so rudely as to leave in the middle of conversation. Al-haitham glances in your direction, but the smirk tugging on his lips falls quickly as he watches you exchange a gentle smile with zhongli, whose golden eyes flicker down to your lips once he notices your hands lingering a little too long on his as you graciously accept a cup of tea.

He feels his chest tighten. You’ve never looked at him like that, eyes soft and brimming with warmth; the most you’ve ever offered him was a mischievous glint, a playful smirk, or if he’s lucky, a brilliant smile and eyes that danced with mirth to match. Al-haitham forces himself to swallow the butterflies fluttering up from his stomach, just as he always does when you’re around. A renowned akademiya genius, the grand scribe of sumeru, and yet he still feels himself playing the fool because it’s his own damn fault that he couldn’t (or wouldn’t?) acknowledge his true feelings for you to himself.

The funeral consultant reaches for another cup.

“Actually,” al-haitham starts, “I was just about to go for a walk.”

“A walk… perhaps tomorrow would be a better choice? Might I even offer a personal tour of liyue harbor? There is much to explore after a night’s rest.” These days, mortal behavior rarely caught the ex-archon by surprise, but the unusually irrational words of the notoriously rational scholar did.

Maybe celestia did shine its favor on him tonight, al haitham thinks. He should be thankful for the easy way out of your ridiculous request, but he makes the mistake of glancing once again in your direction, your hopeful eyes melting his resolve despite every bone in his body telling him to just accept zhongli’s offer. It’s the obvious choice, the rational choice. It’s exactly what he wanted, was it not? But archons, he was such a fool. You made him such a fool for you.

“I appreciate the offer, but I insist. I need to clear my head.”

“I see. well, if you would like some company I-”

“No need,” al haitham cuts in; he really should go now before his friend, or moreso his head, convinces him otherwise. “I’m sure you’d enjoy y/n’s company much more than mine.” From behind zhongli, you mouth a silent ‘thank you.’

The hour is long past midnight by the time he returns, and al-haitham finds himself standing in the doorway of an empty guestroom.

a/n 2: this was supposed to just be a scenario and was supposed to have a rag bros version as well but THIS section got way out of hand and became unfairly long

#— 𝓼𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓙. ༯ #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #al haitham x reader #zhongli fluff #alhaitham angst #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #zhongli x reader #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact headcanons #genshin hcs #genshin impact

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