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neteyamsyawntu · 1 year

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My Little Tawtute

Neteyam x Curvy!Human Reader

✨Friendly Disclaimer: The content of this story contains aged-up characters! If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to click or scroll away. The last thing I want is for anyone to read something they are uncomfortable with, however if you decide to interact with any negativity, you will be blocked from my blog as a result.

Synopsis: Your relationship with Neteyam was unique to say the least. Nothing ever going farther then some light touches and some cuddling, but what happens when Neteyam decides to push the boundaries of your relationship during one of his visits to the lab?

LIGHTLY PROOF READ

Warnings:🔞MINORS DNI🔞 SMUTSMUTSMUTTYSMUT, P in V, fingering, mentions of creampie, thigh fucking, friends to lovers(if you squint hard enough), size kink, interspecies relationship, dirty talk, dom!neteyam, pet names. (Let me know if I missed anything)

Tawtute -> Human

Today wasn’t necessarily the most busy day in the lab. You had gotten most of your research done by noon and for the most part you now found yourself just organizing things into virtual files, before moving your work to your room to start on your physical copies, being a very tedious note taker. You were half way through the pile when you were pulled out of your thoughts to heavy footsteps against the tile coming from down the hall. You look over to your open door just in time to see Neteyam crouch down as he carefully makes his way through the doorway, having learned the hard way from being excited one too many times and smacking his forehead against the frame. The realization of his carefulness coaxing a small chuckle from you. Neteyam’s ears perked at the sound, giving you a smirk in return, “You sound like you are in a good mood today.” He says as he closes the door behind him, moving to stand to his full height, only leaning down slightly from over your shoulder, observing the papers in front of you. “It’s been a pretty easy day, nothing too exciting. I’m just organizing all of this to keep myself busy at this point” You say with a content sigh, swiveling around in your desk chair to look up at the nearly 10ft tall na’vi. Neteyam gives a small nod, taking in your words as his smirk slowly spreads a tad wider, “And.. when do you think you will be done with your… organizing?”. You give a small shrug as you casually look over your stack of notes and your tabbed storage container, which was sorted by importance of category, “Mm… hopefully not too much longer- here let me set up your spot”. What had become Neteyam’s spot was simply just some extra pillows and blankets you had, that you arranged for him so that he wouldn’t have to sit on the cold tile floor for too long, which of course he showed no issue with, but still appreciated the gesture. Rising from your chair, you made your way over to the tall wardrobe on the farthest wall of the room, Neteyam’s eyes glued to the way your exposed thighs rubbed against each other as you walked, watching the slight jiggle that was created with each step. It was one of the things that drew you to him; despite your own insecurities about your body, Neteyam was fascinated with the curvature of your body, only really being accustomed to the lean, slender build of the na’vi. You were different in the best way possible.

Although his initial attraction to you started with your peaked interest and passion for learning about Pandora and the culture of his people, the more time he spent with you, the more he would catch himself staring at your body. Staring, slowly led to daydreaming, to fleeting touches, pushing the boundaries further and further to get close to you. The relationship between the two of you was unique for lack of a better term. The two of you were close, very close in fact. With na’vi being monogamous creatures by nature, as soon as Neteyam started to feel a more intimate attraction toward you, he silently made his claim on you, always making sure you were not left alone with other men for too long without him being present and even cuddling with you during your down time. Sometimes your cuddle sessions would turn somewhat heated, fueled by Neteyam’s wandering hands and his need to squeeze the thickness of your thighs, but none of it went farther than some suggestive touching and cautious kisses. Neteyam’s eyelids became heavier as he watched you set everything up on the floor, his tail swaying intriguingly behind him, “How's this?” You asked, kneeling on the floor as you adjusted some of the blankets. Neteyam slowly lowered his body onto the soft surface of the blankets and pillows, his face creeping closer and closer to yours as he stared straight through you with his large golden eyes, “Nearly perfect…” he hummed, before shifting to lay his head down on your lap, his eyes closing contently as he nuzzled gently against the plush of your thighs, “Mmm.. much better” he purred with a slight pull in his throat. You were used to his advances by now of course, yet they never failed to manifest butterflies in your stomach at his forwardness.

“Neteyam, I still have work to do..” You state with a small pout. Neteyam’s ear merely flicks at your weak attempt at a protest, opening his eyes to gaze up at you with a playful glint in his eyes, “Just stay with me like this a moment… then you can go back to your ‘work’, I promise” his words almost have a sarcastic tone to them as he shifts his position to run his nose along the skin of your thigh. You sigh before giving a soft giggle, moving a hand to pet his head, “You’re just like a needy house cat, you know that?”. Neteyam scrunches his nose a bit at your comment, his tail shifting to tap against the pillows in a slight annoyance, “I do not appreciate being compared to your Earth creatures.”. It was so easy for you to tease him, which only made you want to do it more. You had shown him pictures on your laptop of certain animals native to your planet one day, whilst the two of you were exchanging information about your own respective planets, when you continued to point out some of his own feline features that reminded you of the small furry creatures, which prompted the same reaction of an unamused nose scrunch. Either way he continued to allow your soft caresses, humming as he shifts his body to lay on his side, facing your body. A deep blush begins to form on your cheeks as you watch him. How his nostrils twitch as he pokes your inner thigh with his nose, just below the hem of your shorts, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Neteyam what-”, “-You smell so good, tawtute… so sweet.. right here” he hums as shifts his head to brush his flat nose against the crotch of your shorts. You could feel your heartbeat begin to double at his words and actions, your body stiffening as he takes a deep inhale of your scent, pressing his nose against the zipper of your shorts.

You flinch at his assertiveness, watching him with wide eyes. This wasn’t necessarily out of character for him, but he was definitely pushing the boundary of your usual intimate touching. To have his face so close to your clothed cunt, blatantly smelling your arousal, it nearly made you feel light headed as tension started to build up between you. “Teyam… “ you whisper, gulping slightly as the air in the room almost seemed to become thicker, harder to breathe. Neteyam reluctantly lifted himself from your lap, nearly high off of your scent alone, desperate for another hit, his eyes heavy with lust, as he rose to his knees, “Turn around…” he ordered in a low almost strained voice, as if it was taking him every morsel in his body not to pin you beneath him and claim you as his. You shivered at his tone, giving a slight nod as you slowly rose to your feet, turning your back to him. Listening as Neteyam lets out a pleased hum, a soft gasp suddenly escapes your lips at the feeling his large hands taking hold of your hips, pulling you to press your back flush against his chest, his nose immediately finding its nesting spot in the crook of your neck, having another intake of your scent. Neteyam’s hands slowly creep down to the swell of your thighs, his fingers squeezing the fat there firmly as he releases a groan directly into your ear. “N-Neteyam… This.. this is a little.. Uh..” You are hardly able to put your thoughts into a cohesive sentence. Your brain was yelling at you to reject his advances, but your instincts and the tightening in your stomach as his nails lightly dig into the skin of your thighs, wanted nothing more than to melt under his touch. “Are you uncomfortable, yawne? Do you want me to stop?” he purrs into your ear, his lips grazing its shell, waiting for your consent before he continues, “N-no..I just… you’ve never held me like this before.” You breathe as your eyelids flutter at the thought of what could be going through Neteyam’s mind. The power he had over you felt intoxicating.

Neteyam lets out a soft chuckle, enjoying how nervous he’s making you feel, the heat of his breath on your ear, sends a shiver down your spine, “Do you trust me, tawtute?” he asks in a soft sultry tone. Giving him a slow nod, Neteyam responds by parting his lip to lick a thin stripe up the length of your ear, instantly sending another shiver down your spine, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth as the action pulls a whimper from your throat, “Good…”. Neteyam begins to massage your thighs in slow circles, his fingers spreading out to encompass the width of your thighs, continuously squeezing the flesh there, his thumbs lightly caressing your exposed stretch marks periodically, releasing a deep groan into the side of your neck, as his eyes are glued to his repetitive movements, “So beautiful…”. A small whine escapes you at his words, your breath hitching as you feel something firm, pressing against the back of your thigh, while Neteyam shifts his right hand to allow his index finger to rub against the hem over your crotch, pressing firmly enough for you to feel friction between his finger and the fabric of your shorts. Your brows pinch at the sensation, head rolling back to rest against his shoulder as you release a staggered exhale.

A satisfied smile forms its way onto Neteyam’s lips as his eyes move to watch your pleasured expression, “Are you enjoying this, Y/N?” He asks, already knowing full-well the answer, as he examines your face, mouth agape and eyes closed tight as he adds more pressure to his long digit, dragging it across your clothed folds, too caught up in the feeling to answer him straight. “Answer me sweet girl…” his voice rumbles against your ear, his nose gliding down the side of your neck, “Haah… mmm- yes… feels.. really good.” you respond between shaky breaths, your mind beginning to spiral as his thumb drifts to push open the button of your shorts effortlessly. “Hmm that’s my good girl..” as the words leave his mouth, another swipe of his tongue finds its way down your jugular, toward your collarbone, the sensation tingling your sensitive skin enough for you to grip the forearm, of his hand that was working on shimmying your shorts down your thick thighs, as a reflex. As your mind finally becomes conscious of what Neteyam was trying to do, the sense of urgency fueled by your desire takes over, prompting you to move your hands to assist him in shoving your shorts down your thighs, pushing past the slight resistance of your thighs, kicking them away the moment they fall to the floor. “You seem eager, little one” Neteyam says with a soft chuckle as fingers hook themselves around the band of your panties pulling them down as well, tossing them to the side after you step out of them, before his hands work their way up your legs to reclaim their place back on your thighs. His right hand shifting to lightly lay over your mound. Your body shivers as the cold air brushes past your naked folds, breath hitching the moment Neteyam’s finger slides through the wetness that had built up at your entrance, collecting the wetness enough to bring his lubricated digit to your clit, rubbing slow repetitive circles against the bundle of nerves. Your back instantly arches at the sensation, your hand moving to cover your mouth, muffling your noises, to which Neteyam immediately removes your hand with his free one, bringing the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a firm kiss against it as he eyes you hungrily, “do not hide those pretty noises from me, sevin… let me hear you” Neteyam purrs a he begins to rub slightly firmer circles into your clit while simultaneously beginning to grind his throbbing erection against your leg.

“Ohh! Ahh- oh god..” Neteyam’s ears flick as your whiny moans fall from your lips, responding with his own low growl at the sound, “Yes… that’s it, yawne… s-so so pretty…”. You can hear his own voice begin to waver as he grinds his erecting firmly against your leg, his brows knitting together as the sensation starts to become too much for him to handle. His eyes land on the puddle of slick that had built up on his hand from massaging your folds, “Y/N… do you mind if we try something?” He asks in a slightly shaky voice, as he loops a hand behind his back to expertly untie his loincloth, allowing it to fall to the floor at his knees, his cock springing up, smacking lightly against your thigh. Your eyes widen at the feeling, unable to stop yourself as your curious hand reaches behind you to run your fingers along his shaft, earning a trembling hiss from Neteyam, “Y-yawne, wait.. you don’t have to do that… Oh…”. Looking over your shoulder at him, eyes now half lidded, watching as Neteyam leans his head against your shoulder while unsteady, heavy breaths leave his lips, as you wrap your small fingers around his cock, giving him slow yet firm strokes from base to tip. His shoulders rise and fall with a bit more urgency as his breathing becomes heavier, absolutely crumbling at the way you’re touching him. Biting his lip, Neteyam puts his hand over yours to halt your movements, pulling you off of him, “S-stop… you’re gonna make me cum like that… just- spread your legs a bit more.” He requests, letting go of your hand to place his own on the swell of your ass, his fingers hungrily digging into your cheeks, spreading them apart slightly, causing you to whine as you eagerly follow his orders. Neteyam places a hand at the base of his cock, steadying his breath as he brings you closer to him, pressing your hips flush against his front, guiding the length of his cock to slide right up against your sopping cunt, pulling pleasured sounds from both of you at the contact. “Good… n-now close your legs for me”, “W-wait, close them?” You ask, giving him a somewhat confused look. “Yes, tawtute.. close your legs for me… please”. You could tell he was becoming more and more desperate by the shaky plea that left his mouth. Complying with his wishes you close your legs as much as you can with his cock sitting between your thighs, Neteyam’s hands gripping your hips tightly as he holds back a strained groan, “J-just like that… perfect…”. Taking in deep breath Neteyam pushes his cock through your thighs, using your slick as lubrication, your eyes watching as his tip breaks free from the containment of your closed legs, a content sigh leaving his lips as Neteyam once again has to remind himself to keep his restraint, to not plunge himself straight into your tight, unprepped pussy.

Your body began to tremble, feeling as a potent heat spreads through your core you could feel your cunt aching as Neteyam began to use your hips to slide you back and forth on his cock, using your thighs to fuck himself. His palms moving to pull your ass cheeks apart to watch the base of his cock disappear between your thighs over and over again, “Oh shit, yawne… haah.. you're doing so well for me.. Eywa, you’re so wet…”. A high pitched whine rips from your throat as his thick shaft glides effortlessly over your folds and clit, coaxing out small squelching noises from the push and pull of his movements, your hips occasionally jerking at the sensation of his cockhead hitting your clit a certain way. “Ahh.. Teyam I- I can’t..”, Neteyam immediately stops his motions at your words, thinking he may have done something wrong, or that you weren’t completely as comfortable with this as you had led on. Leaning in close to your face, Neteyam nuzzles against your cheek in attempts to comfort you, his cock continuing to throb and twitch at the loss of friction, “What is it, tiyawn?” He asks a little out of breath, as he tries to reel back his mind to focus on you and your needs. “I… I need more.. please, Teyam.” You beg in soft whimpers, as your hand reaches down to caress the tip of his cock that was poking out from between your thighs, causing his hips to jerk slightly at the sudden touch. Neteyam stares down at you with wide eyes at your boldness before his lips twitch into a smirk, releasing a low chuckle from his chest, “Oh my little needy tawtute… you have no idea how hard it is for me not to pin you down and have my way with you.” He purrs against your cheek, before shifting his head to place a firm kiss on your temple, “But I would hurt you. Your small little body is not made to take such.. large intrusions”.

You pout letting loose another needy whimper as you lean forward enough to shift your hips to align his tip with your rubbed out pussy lips, “I can take it.. I promise… or I at least want to try- please Neteyam… I need you” you whine desperately as you begin to stir your hips against his cockhead, already feeling how it would take him a good amount of effort to even force himself inside of you, as his tip barely passed through your lips. Neteyam takes in a sharp inhale at your actions, gritting his teeth as his hold on your hips becomes nearly bruising as he fights against his own internal conflicts, “Y/N this is dangerous.. I’m serious, you could really get hurt”. You groan at his protests, knowing that he was right, but he had already given you this much, let you feel him, touch him, and your body only craved more. Your pussy throbs in anticipation as you take matters into your own hands, attempting to push yourself down on to him, “Fuck it! I don’t care, hurt me then. Neteyam please I can’t take it anymore.” Before you can even process what is happening, your head is pinned to the blankets below you, ass in the air as Neteyam continues to hold you by the back of the neck, keeping you in place. Looking over your shoulder you can see the dark look in his eye, his chest heaving with heavy breaths as he indulges in his own primal instincts for a moment. Leaning over your backside, Neteyam drags his tongue up your spine, pushing your shirt up as he goes, until he reaches the center of your shoulder blades. With one hand Neteyam maneuvers your shirt to bind your wrists with it, rolling the excess fabric into a small knot. His voice is a low growl in your ear, “If you want it that badly, then be a good girl and let me properly prepare you.” Releasing his hold on your wrists after ensuring that your wadded up shirt would do the job, Neteyam snakes his hand behind your rear, moving down toward your exposed glistening cunt, giving it a rough slap, not enough to hurt, but to at the very least stimulate your aching hole, enough to cause you to cry out, “You said you wanted to be hurt, isn’t that right, tawtute? Hah.. such a naughty little thing..” he coos to you teasingly as he rubs the flesh of your ass, before directly inserting his middle finger down to the last knuckle into your throbbing core. Your breath is caught in your throat at the unexpected entry, thinking he would have maybe given you some sort of warning, only finally finding your voice as he begins to pump the digit inside of you, letting out a breathy moan in partial relief from the aching in your deprived walls.

“Is this what you wanted? Begging for my cock and now you can’t even speak, all because of my finger. Go ahead, beg for more, little one… beg me to stretch you out properly” he orders you in a deep growl, as his fangs graze the flesh of your shoulder. Without any hesitation, you eagerly answer to his call, “M-more! Please, Teyam put another finger in… ohh it feels so good…”. With a sly smirk Neteyam shifts his hand back, watching your expression closely as he forces his last two fingers into your hole. Your brows pinch together at the sudden stretch, mouth falling agape as you find your voice temporarily missing again, before releasing a strained mewl. Neteyam placed a kiss on your shoulder, choosing to be a bit more patient with you, soothing your discomfort, considering the drastic adjustments your body was having to make, before slowly moving his digits in and out of you, massaging the gummy part of your walls. Continuing to release a stream of shallow breaths and moans, you find yourself fisting the blankets beneath you as Neteyam’s fingers masterfully find your g-spot, watching how your body squirms every time he hits it. “O-oh god.. Tey- Teyam I’m close!” You warn, feeling your legs start to tremble, your knees struggling to stay upright in your current position, “That’s it… cum for me, my little tawtute. Cum on my fingers.”, his words ring in your ear like an undeniable command, almost as if your body was hardwired to appease his wants, prompting your body to immediately obey his orders, as you feel your core tighten more and more before you burst, screaming out in ecstasy. The tightness of your cunt practically pushing his fingers out of you, leaving a thick string of slick connecting his fingers to your throbbing cunt. You nuzzle your face into the blankets as you come down from your high, desperately trying to regain control of your breathing, you turn your face to look over your shoulder, just in time to catch Neteyam’s predatory gaze as he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking and sucking your juices tentatively, his tail swaying possessively behind him, “How is it that you taste this good?… Sweet.. yet tangy like an utumauti… or I think you humans call it banana fruit.”. You throw a half hearted, exhausted laugh his way as you slowly move to sit up, your mind fogging as you assumed this was the end of your intimate session, that was until his large palm presses into the middle of your back, pushing you back down, forcing you to arch your back for him, ripping a surprised yelp from your weak form, “You’ve been such a good girl, yawne… I think it’s time I give you what you’ve been begging for.” Neteyam hums, rubbing his shaft along your dripping folds, biting his bottom lip as he collects your remaining cum on his shaft, his ears flicking when his actions are rewarded with the sound of your breathy sighs, “Unless of course you have changed your mind?” He teases you, pressing his tip firmly against your entrance, restraining enough to wait for your green light to insert himself into you.

“Tey, stop teasing me and give it to me already!” you pout, pushing your ass to meet his advances, nearly causing his tip to slip inside of you, earning a shaky moan from the na’vi male behind you, slowly turning into a rough chuckle, “I don’t think I've ever met anyone so desperate to be torn apart. Very well, tiyawn… relax for me” he coos, leaning into your ear, placing a gentle kiss on it’s shell before leaning back, firmly placing his hands on your hips, holding you in place and then you feel it, his cockhead forcing its way into your cunt, assisted by your preexisting lubricant. The stretch was unlike anything you had felt before, making his fingers seem feeble in comparison, yet feeling as Neteyam pushed himself further and further through your walls, you knew that without having taken his fingers first, you would have certainly been torn apart. Your back arched further as the weight of his pelvis caused your knees to spread further apart, gasping as the action drove him deeper inside of you,“I-It hurts, Tey…”, “You’re doing great, yawne… just a bit more..”. His tone is soft and affectionate, in his best attempts to comfort you. No matter how much he teased you, it did cause him pain to see you in such discomfort, nearly on the verge of tears as you lay your head flat on the floor in defeat, allowing your body to fully relax as you accept your fate. Just as Neteyam had promised you, with a few more pushes into your tight walls, his cock had finally reached as far as it could go, his tip nestled against your cervix, releasing a heavy exhale into the crook of your neck, as he tried to keep his composure despite how hungrily your pussy clenched around him, “Oh Eywa… you feel incredible, yawne.” He mutters in a barely audible whisper as he nuzzles into your hair, taking in your scent to calm his nerves, his hands falling from your hips to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling your rear flush against his pelvis, his tail curling at the sensation of being so deep inside of you. His eyes trail over you as your expression finally seems to relax, carefully resting his forehead against your temple, placing a kiss on your cheekbone.

“I am going to start moving now… ok?” He coos into your ear, placing another kiss on the top of your head after you nod in approval. Steadying himself with a final breath, Neteyam slowly begins to roll his hips into you. “Mmmn…Oh my… ohh!”, you moan out as your heart is beating at a thousand miles a minute, the pain slowly melts into pure arousal. The feeling of the stretch was still there of course, yet oddly the discomfort in itself became satisfying. Gripping the shirt that still bound your hands, you began to rock your hips back to meet Neteyam’s thrusts, taking him off guard for a moment at your sudden eagerness, nevertheless it fuels his desire to want to pound into you that much more, “Look at you taking me so well…so deep.. and so tight” he purrs low into the back of your neck between moans, his breaths becoming slightly heavier as his hips begin to move a bit more passionately, nuzzling into your hair once more as his own desires grow more intense, “You’re so tiny…oh you sky person…” Neteyam whispers breathily into your neck, chuckling softly at the pathetic whine you let out in protest of this specific pet name, only encouraging him to buck his harder into you, admiring how his movements cause your tongue to fall past your lips as your mouth hangs open to allow string after string of moans and whimpers to emerge. The small room filling with noises of ecstasy as well as the sound of skin slapping against one another as Neteyam steadily loses his composure, rutting into you with intense love and carnal desire.

Moaning out at the feeling of a sudden tug at the base of your skull, Neteyam uses your hair to pull your head backward, forcing you to stare at the ceiling while his mouth hungrily attaches itself to your neck, leaving dark marks all along its surface, leaving his claim on you, so that everyone- sky person and na’vi alike would know who you belong to. The familiar tightness builds up in your core again, as the mix of sensations work together to send you into overdrive. Neteyam can feel it too. The way your cunt is clenching and unclenching more rapidly around him, he knows you are getting close. His arm that his still wrapped around your middle moves to descend his hand down between your thighs, rubbing at your overstimulated clit, immediately causing your entire body to tremble once again, albeit more aggressively than before as your orgasm ripped through your body before you even had a chance to give a proper warning. Neteyam’s ears perking to full assertiveness, basking in the pleasured sounds of your climax, eyes nearly rolling in the back of his head as he uses them to chase his own release, “Oh.. yawne.. yawne, ah- I’m cumming…” he warns, panting heavily as he feels his cock attempt to twitch within the confines of your tight cunt, before he releases his load inside of you. Pulling out slowly after taking a moment to catch his breath, Neteyam lays down beside you, pulling you into his strong embrace, as he gently runs his finger tips up and down your back as you come down from your high. Your own fingers caressing his chest in a slow kneading motion as your eyelids grow heavier and heavier. The room was quiet, only the sounds of your soft panting and sighs filled the space. Neteyam holds you closer to him as his hand lifts from your back to gently caress your cheek, his hand nearly twice the size of your head in comparison, “My little tawtute… so beautiful.. mine…” he mumbles into your hairline, pressing a gentle yet firm kiss on your forehead. The sound of his soft whispers and his strong yet calm heartbeat lulling you to sleep in his arms.

I'm so proud of myself for getting this fic out when I said I would. Well kind of, I'm technically a day late, but shh. I didn't wait till after I woke up the next day, so it still counts. TIME IS A SOCIAL CONSTRUCT AND I SHALL NOT BEND TO ITS WHIM. N E WAYS I hope you guys enjoyed this! It was honestly super fun to write and god, something about human x na'vi pairings just do something to me.

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burningvelvet · 6 months

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2) Divorce was nearly impossible anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

6) Annulment was likely impossible given their circumstances.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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sage-green-matcha · 11 months

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WE’RE NOT REALLY STRANGERS - ETHAN LANDRY 🃏

“Tell the other person to close their eyes and to keep them closed” Playing the “we’re not really stranger” card game with Ethan Landry!

Content includes: fluff! Card game, Softie! Ethan Landry, shy duo!

You lay on the couch of Ethan’s apartment, sighing as you continued to add details to the Google slide. “You know y/n, it doesn’t have to be pretty, just copy and paste the information” you frowned. “I like it pretty, looks like we put more effort into it” You switched the background color to a deep blue, a smile on your face as it matched the other slides.

“I’m getting so bored of this” you mumbled, changing fonts and adding colors, copying and pasting pictures onto it. “How about we take a break? We’ve been working on this for the past hour” You looked down at him, a thankful expression on your face. “I was hoping you’d say that” You shut the laptop, Ethan sitting on the couch next to you.

“We better get a perfect A, we’re putting way too much unnecessary effort into this” The 20-slide Econ assignment was almost done, with only a couple of things left to add. “What do you wanna do?” He asked, chin resting on the side of the couch. You shrugged, looking around his apartment.

“Do you like card games?” You nodded, watching him as he went over to the game closet, pulling out a red box. “What’s that?” He placed the box on the coffee table, the box reading “We’re not really strangers” at the top. “Basically, it’s just a bunch of questions that we get to ask each other to get to know each other better, fits since like…we’ve only really hung out for projects like this” You nodded, agreeing. “Yeah, okay” you smiled, Ethan explaining the rules as he shuffled the cards.

“Okay, uhm I’ll ask first?” “Yea,” he pulled a card, reading it out loud to you. “What was your first impression of me?” You hummed, thinking back to the first time you’d met him. “I think…I thought you were cute, a bit awkward I guess. You seemed really smart so I’m glad I got partnered up with you” Ethan blushed at the compliment, thanking you before you pulled the next card.

“Who do you think is my favorite artist!?” Ethan knew you loved music, and he already knew the answer. “Taylor Swift…?” “Yea! I like how you know that” you bit back your lip, cuddling up to the shared blanket.

“Okay…do you think I like hot Cheetos?” Your eyes turned into lines, pointing at the empty bag of chips. “No Ethan, I think you love Cheetos” He rolled his eyes. “It’s a very solid chip, they’re good” he laughed, smiling at you. “Do you think…that I’ve ever been in love?” You watched as Ethan examined your face, eyes squinted. “I think…that no you haven’t, but other people have probably been in love with you” You turned your head, Ethan biting back his lip.

“What makes you say that?” He shrugged. “You Just have a very loving personality, it’s the first thing anyone picks up on” You blushed and he pulled out a different pile of cards. “Round two is…connection…what’s the biggest mistake you’ve made?” “That’s deep…” he nodded as you thought. “I think it’s probably…hm. Oh, I know. Not sticking up for myself in things that have impacted me, like a lot”

“Like what?” “Like…I was bullied a lot as a kid, I think that kinda messed with how I turned out” he frowned. He could never imagine people bullying you. You were so sweet and caring. “Okay…hmm what non-domestic animal describes you? And why?” You already had an answer in mind, Ethan thinking with his hand on his chin. “A cat?” You shook your head. “That is so wrong” “Really?” You nodded, “You give hamster energy” he looked at you confused. “Well…I guess that kinda does make sense” he was really random and quiet, but he was also smart.

“What’s the worst pain you’ve been in that wasn’t physical?” You felt comfortable with Ethan, so you decided to open up with your mental health issues, if he thought you were crazy then that would probably be the worst pain. “I think…when I was in this really dark place, it was a couple of summers ago but uhm. My mom was sick and I was just depressed…like suicidal” You played with the rings on your fingers, sinking yourself into the couch. “I’m sorry…are you okay now?” His heart hurt for you, looking at you with doughy eyes. “Yea! Definitely, being around people that I care about helps a lot” You smiled at him, trying to give him the indication that it was him you were talking about. “I’m glad”

“What would your younger self not believe about your life today?” You put down the card, snuggling closer to the blanket as the gears in Ethan's head turned, thinking for a minute. “Maybe the fact that I actually have friends?” He laughed and you smiled. “Really?” He nodded. “I never really had friends, I was always really quiet as a kid and- and like shy” he scratched the back of his neck.

“What’s your least favorite personality trait in a person?” “I really dislike pretentious people, like get over it. You’re not better than anyone” You shrugged and he nodded his head, agreeing. “Think of someone that you admire. What made you think of them specifically?” You were the first person that popped into mind, his face flushed as he began to speak.

“The person, they’re just so sweet and, like” he sighed, not able to put his feelings of admiration towards you into words. “They do their best at everything. They go above and beyond even when they don’t have to. It’s like they’re the perfect person and they have such a beautiful personality” he could rant to you about yourself forever.

You just smiled, nodding your head as he described this mystery person. He must have a crush on them, the way that he was going about it definitely showed signs, a small frown on your face. It was the last question of the connection round, going into reflection.

“If we were in a band…what would be our name?” He smiled. “Like, the Econ girls or something” “But I’m not even a girl!” You broke into a small fit of laughter. “I like Econ girls, that’s our band name” he nodded, excepting his fate as an Econ girl.

“What part of yourself do you see in me?” “Honestly, nothing…you’re too perfect” you scoffed. “I’m for real…I don’t think I could compare myself to you” he fiddled with his hands, avoiding eye contact. “Really? Okay, draw” he picked up the card, placing it on the table.

“When this game is over, what will be something you remember about me?” You pretended to think long and hard, already knowing the answer. “Everything, I liked getting to know you better” Ethan felt his heart pump out of his chest, trying to hold back a smile as you pulled the next card.

“What do I need to hear right now?” He chewed on the inside of his cheek, glancing at you and then at the pile of cards on the table. “That the person I thought of first was you” You could’ve screamed, and so could Ethan. His face was flushed as he waited for your response, your eyes just wide as you tried to calm yourself down.

He watched as you held back a smile, your attempt failing before you hid your face in your hands. “Another one?” You nodded, Ethan with a smile on his lips. “In one word, describe how you feel right now” The universe was working with him, all the cards playing out perfectly. “Happy..?” You questioned, nodding to yourself. “Yea, happy”

You pulled out one of the wild cards, pulling out the paper and pencils from inside the box. “Write a message to each other and give it to each other, open it once you have left” You tapped your pencil against the table. Tucking your hair behind your ear as you started to write.

Ethan watched you, attempting to sneak a peek but it didn’t work, trying to come up with what to say to you. The tension could be cut with a knife, smiles hidden as you wrote. “You done?” He questioned and you nodded, folding up the piece of paper.

“Look Into each other's eyes for 30 seconds. What did you notice?” You scooted closer toward him, your body nervous as you looked into his eyes. You always knew Ethan was pretty, but seeing him so close made you realize he was way more than just pretty. His eyes were a pretty brown color, creasing at the sides when he smiled.

His lips looked so soft, so pillowy. The perfect shade of pink. You started to even get a bit insecure about your own. Ethan on the other hand took the opportunity to examine you even more. He knew everything about your face, every detail, every mark. He felt his heart beat faster as you looked at his lips, looking back into his eyes with your lips agape.

The two of you got closer, Ethan’s light breaths on your face as he took your jaw into his hands, pulling you closer to him. Your body melted into him, your lips pressing against his without a warning. Heat filled your body, butterflies going crazy in your stomach. He tasted so good, so sweet. And the feeling of his lips on yours was addicting. His hand pushed to the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him if that was even possible.

He pulled away, taking in the sight of your puffy lips, your face flushed in a pink blush. “One more? For good luck?” You nodded and he read the card to himself, instructing you to close your eyes. Your eyebrows furrowed as you waited. 5 seconds, then 10, then 15.

You felt him kiss you again, confused but not mad about it. His hand was on your waist, pulling you on top of him. The feeling of his kiss was like hundreds of fireworks going off inside of you, euphoria filling your whole body. Just the feeling of his hands running across your skin made you shiver, pressing your hand against his chest.

You pulled away and he handed you the card, reading it out loud. “Tell the other person to close their eyes and to keep them closed…wait 15 seconds and kiss them” You shook your head at the card, Ethan pulling you into his side. “I liked that game” “I did too” Before you left you exchanged letters, opening it frantically in your car as you recalled the night's events.

Y/n, you’re the person that I was talking about, but I think you already know that. I'm happy I decided to play this game with you. You make me feel safe and I really like you…It’s easier to express my feelings in letters, but I hope I get to show or tell you in these next couple of rounds.

Yours, Ethan Landry <3

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 9 months

Text

Complicated

Eddie's Version. Part two 💕💕

Will be breaking this up into two parts, purely because I love the drama and wanna make Eddie suffer a lil bit ;)

Warnings: Angst, Eddie is painfully slow at realising his feelings. Wayne makes an appearance. Jealousy.

Don't copy, reuse or repost my work.

❤️

Eddie felt like an idiot. He couldnt believe the stupid shit he said to you. Him and Chrissy had gotten into another fight because he's been so fucking pissed off.

Pissed off at himself for what he said to you.

He doesn't understand what's wrong with him? Ever since he saw you with Steve, picturing you sleeping with him it's like there's some fucking monster inside of him.

"What does it matter to you who she sleeps with Eddie?" Chrissy had asked him after he had told her about your fight.

There was no answer he could come up with, Dustin told him point blank that he was a total douchebag.

"Dude, you do realise that you sound jealous right?" the little butthead told him like it was so obvious.

There was no way he was jealous. He was with Chrissy. He proclaimed that he wasn't and Dustin just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Eddie, Steve told me what happened. It's like you've deemed him a threat because he's been with yn and you hate it"

Once again Eddie had no reply for that and decided to throw himself into apologising to you.

The next day he's at your door, nervous and kicking himself for being a douchebag. What if you didn't forgive him? You had evert right to tell him to fuck off.

Eddie hated the thought of you not being in his life, he adored you and needed to show you how much you meant to him.

You were beautiful to him, he hated that he made you feel so low, what the hell was he thinking? (He wasn't that was the point)

You open the door and look like you want to slam it in his face.

"I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry. I was a dickhead and I understand if you don't want to talk to me but I just had to tell you that"

The anger subsides from your features and you soften just a fraction.

"What you said really hurt" he swallows and you let him inside.

"I don't have any excuse princess. Just that I'm so very sorry, you're beautiful, the sweetest person I've ever met and I hate myself for hurting you"

He's barely slept and he's so tired but he had to see you.

"Just no more stupid shit Eddie please. I'm confused enough about this stuff with Steve as it is" he ignores the twinge in his chest at this.

"Do you like him?" he asks quietly and you sigh.

"He's my friend Eddie, hes a great guy. There's this spark between us but it's just physical because he still loves Nancy and I love... You freeze and trail off.

"You're in love with someone?" It's like his stomach bottoms out as he hears this and he fights to keep his tone casual.

"It doesn't matter. He doesn't feel the same way" You blurt out and frowns.

"Well then he's an idiot" he tells you gently and you look away flustered, the tension in the room ratcheting up.

"I'm making pizza. Wanna join me?" you ask and he jumps at the offer. Anything to get away from these thoughts racing through his mind.

❤️

You wish you hadn't come to this stupid party, Eddie was still acting a little weird and you had no idea what was going on in his head. Things were better than they were but still nowhere near what you two were usually like.

Yeah he had apologised profusely for what he said but what the hell was his deal with Steve in the first place? You were not here for it and wouldn't hesitate in calling him out.

Speaking of Steve you wish he was here. At least you would have someone to talk to, Chrissy had Eddie attached to her and you could barely get near him.

When you did see him for a few seconds here and there conversation was stilted.

To your delight Steve and Robin do show up to the party and that helps you relax.

"Who the fuck thought having a party in the woods was a good idea? After all the shit thats happened here?" Steve asks unamused.

You grin agreeing with him and hand out beers for him and Robin.

The sparks between you two were still there but he was right, he was still hung up on Nancy and you were hung up on Eddie.

If it happened again then it was strictly physical and nothing more.

Eddie meets your gaze and downs his drink, his eyes trailing over to Steve then you, he grabs another beer and stalks off and you groan.

What was his problem now? You attempt to follow him and get about half way there when you see Chrissy already by his side and tucked under his arm.

It feels like you've been sucker punched in the gut and you turn away. Unfortunately, Jason Carver is right beside you.

Fuck, you should have went home when you had the chance. He's drunk as hell and way too close to you for comfort.

"God it makes me sick watching Chrissy with that freak" He's unsteady on his feet and you cringe as you smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Don't call him that" you snap at him in no mood for his pity party and him being a shit about Eddie.

"Don't know why you aren't more upset though. Aren't you like in love with Munson or something?" this stops you in your tracks and you stare at Jason. How does he know that?

"I don't... I'm not" Jason cuts off your response and snorts.

"Babe come on? It's obvious. He's hardly going to look your way when he has Chrissy is he?" the way he says this so casually and cruel, it hurts like a bitch.

"Gee thanks" he misses your sarcastic tone and moves closer to you. He's so close you can barely move away. What the fuck?

"Hey, maybe we should hook up. That would show them" You gape at him and move away.

"No fucking way" your reaction causes you to sneer at him and he snorts at you.

"Whatever, doesn't stop the fact that you're never going to be Munson's type and you know it"

Jason walks away but the words linger in your mind, you hurry away having enough of this party.

Steve is at your side straight away, he notices your tears and nods over to Robin.

"What's wrong?" you shake your head and wipe the tears away.

"Nothing, just Jason being a dick" Robin joins you and Steve.

"Yeah, I'm thinking a movie night sounds good about now don't you?" she suggests and you nod in relief.

"Sounds perfect"

Before you leave Eddie jogs up to you looking concerned.

"What's wrong? You're leaving already?" he stiffens as he notices your tears and gently wipes them away. The gesture is sweet and it makes your skin tingle.

"Fine, I'm fine. Just Jason being his usual self. Gonna call it a night" he looks disappointed but nods.

"Kay, I'll come see you tomorrow?" you nod and walk, away, chancing a look back at Eddie who watching you go.

💕

Eddie finds himself driving to your house after the party, he doesn't know if your parents are home so he decided to do his usual routine of greeting you at your bedroom window.

It takes a minute for him to climb up onto the roof. He's about to knock when he hears you giggle and moan.

"Steve"

His blood runs cold and he scrambles away from your window. He nearly falls on his ass as he gets down and ends up kicking over your trashcan.

"Shit" he swears and makes attempts to make a hasty exit but you must have heard him because a minute later your at the door.

"Eddie?" you stand at the doorway in a hastily thrown on robe and his stomach sinks at the sight.

💕

"Are you okay? After earlier?" you ask him concerned and motion him to come in.

He does, his eyes linger on Steve's jacket and his jaw tightens.

"Steve's here" he comments and you can't figure out his tone.

"Yeah, we're friends. What is your problem with him right now? You've been getting on great the last few months"

He stubbornly looks away.

"Friends who've sleep together" he murmurs and you grow impatient.

"Why are you so fixated on that? Do you want the details? How many times he's made me fucking come? How good it feels" you snap.

It's like he comes undone at that point. His expression darkens, his eyes almost black and your body reacts to the sight, it's hot and you're pissed at yourself for thinking this because you're furious with Eddie.

"You know what? Fuck you Eddie. Come back and see me when you have a better attitude" you walk away from him and he gently grabs your arm.

"What?!'' he gazes at your for a second, his eyes trail down to your lips and you freeze.

The air is heavy with tension and he licks his lips, eyes flicking back to your gaze.

He comes to and backs away then he's out the door leaving you in shock. You make your way back upstairs and find Steve at the top of the stairs shaking his head.

"I don't know what his deal is" You reply helplessly and Steve softens.

"He does. He just wont admit it sweetheart. Come on, let's watch a film yeah? Not really in the mood anymore" You agree and follow Steve downstairs.

💕

Eddie slams the door to his bedroom shut, his heart is racing and all he can think is what you said about Steve.

Images of you with him race through his mind and he the pain in his heart triples at the thought of you and Steve together.

Steve making you come over and over again, those moans, you writhing under Steve and saying his name. He can't stand the thought of you with Steve.

He lets out a yell of annoyance and slumps on the bed. What the hell was wrong with him. He hated this.

Uncle Wayne comes into his room and sighs, looking to the door then Eddie.

"Thought you were out tonight boy? You have another fight with Chrissy?" he nods his head and Wayne sits beside him.

"You ever wonder if she's really the girl for you?" he stares at his uncle. Really thinks on the question and struggles to answer.

He hadn't been happy for a while now.

"I don't know anymore. Things have been tense for a long time and then there's yn"

Wayne knows something is going on with you and Eddie right now but he isn't privy to all the details. Naturally he's curious because the two of you are very close.

"What's happening with you two. You not hanging out tonight" Eddie slumps back on the bed and shakes his head.

"She's with Steve" he scowls and Wayne raises his eyebrow.

"Harrington? Those two are together now?" Eddie nods tightly.

"More casual. Of course she would want someone like Steve. He's rich and goodlooking, all the chicks dig him. I get it but I still think of her with him and I don't like it, I've said stupid shit" he swears.

Wayne smiles and realises what's up with his nephew.

"Give yourself a break son. We all do stupid shit when we're in love" he pats Eddie's arm and Eddie jolts up staring after his uncle.

Wayne thought he was in love with you but that was totally fucking impossible right?

Fuck.

💕

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine

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legend-the-dumb-jock · 3 months

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@fatisthenewshape is in charge !!

“Omg I can’t believe how boring his life is. I know he told me before that his life was nothing but I didn’t expect it to be this bad.” Finishing up the paper work from the most boring job ever I pushed my chair in. I wonder what he’s doing in Paris right now. Sure therapy wasn’t intentional but it happened somehow and now I knew I was in his American body. Right when I was about to walk out of the office I heard my email go off. I went back to check and it was yet again another down sizing. Me being good at this job of his wasn’t on the list hit it just meant his boring job was about to get more boring !!

I screamed looking at that computer. “I can’t take this shit anymore!” I slammed the door shut to the office and on the way home grabbed some beer. In the apartment that night I just stared at the glow of the tv. I was only on my first beer and I was already feeling sleepy. I didn’t want to be in this body anymore. This life was so boring !! It was so much more fun when we just talked about transfo….. I sat tight yo on the couch. Maybe this was a way to really live a transformation. Maybe this was the chance I had to really make a change. Pulling up his tumblr account i reread everything he posted. I didn’t realize how many different changes he had written about. But needless to say after couple hours I have decided on the changes I would make. Closed my computer I walked back to the living room and opened up another beer.

It was a couple months of my new ambitious beer drinking that I finally had a beer gut. He has written so many stories about having one that it was odd he didn’t actually have one. This was my first change I was going to make to him. And now here I am. Rubbing this big gut while I’m walking out of this office for the last time. It was now time for me to go onto the next phase of my plan. Destroying his education was right up his ally. He always talked about being dumb. And a dog. Well he needed a job that would fit that role.

I managed to get a job at a Construction site. The work was hard and labor intensive. I sweat all day and I smelled like crazy. But I kept drinking my beers and continuing on the path that I had set for him.

Making so much less made my next changes a little hard. One of the things he fantasized about clearly was tattoos and I wanted to make sure he had them. But the massive decrease in pay from the corporate world made it hard. I started asking some of my coworkers about the I tattoos and before I knew Indians out they was an artist and was offering to give me some at a discount

It was long before I was making daily visits to get as much ink as possible on his body. I was loving how fast his body was getting covered in tattoos. And the looks that people were giving. I was soon looking like a walking piece of graffitied skin. I began to do other things. Like adding gauges to hjs ears. One I had them completely obliterated to the point of now return I knew that his physical changes had to come to a close.

For the next part in his journey I decided to delve deeper into one of his stories tropes that he wrote about alot. Problem was that I wasn’t willing to do any of the work. I found myself on the dark web one night and with a couple thousand dollars and his social security number it wasn’t long before the stranger had logged into the federal system and began to add charge after charge to his record. Drugs, possession, firearms. He was making this man a low life thug criminal and now there was nothing he would be able to do about it. He would be able to find the chat rooms or anything to get this resolved. I even perfected his signature and sending a copy to the stranger online he used that to validate the claims of all the charges he was placing on this body. We even managed to invalidate his college degrees and even high school degree. Now he was a high school drop out who went down the path of being a hard criminal. It wasn’t long before his face was being seen all over tv. Armed and dangerous. I was now living the body of a wanted man just like in those stories he wrote. It was t long before the police came and aggressively arrested me. And I just smirked. Bring in prison was going to be the utmost change to his life that would be able to make. And from the sounds of it. With all the charges I had managed to get on his record, he was going to be here for several years. Especially after I admitted to everything for him.

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aquaquadrant · 5 days

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“He reaches for Tango’s arm. “Tango, I love you-” “I know!” Tango jerks away. “I know that, okay? But you- did it ever occur to you that maybe I love you, too?” PAIN PAIN PAIN

“That maybe for once I- I did something ‘cause I love you and not ‘cause I hate myself?” Tango buddy i hate to break it to you but i still think you’re punishing yourself

“Traps. He forgot to look for traps.” proof of how long he’s been away oh i am unwell

“Well,” Bravo says, stepping into the room, “isn’t this convenient?” I am going to write self insert fanfiction just to punch him in the face so help me god

“Jimmy surges into the air, wings beating, and swoops down at Bravo. “Don’t you dare call him that!” THAT'S MY BOOOOOOY

“He’s already had ten years in the sun. That’s more than anyone else in Hels got.” and what if i started crying right here right now.

“Bravo, on the other hand, stands to gain absolutely nothing from this except the satisfaction of knowing Tango is suffering. How strange, that the only player to ever really demonstrate that desire isn’t even from Hels.” and that's it right there, isn't it? This whole series has been exploring the idea of what makes us good and evil, and how easy it is to go from one or the other. The supposed “good” player, Bravo, acting more evil than ANY hels character we’ve ever met. Boom.

“Tango tilts his head. “Yeah? If that’s the case, then uh, why did the universe send you here?” my jaw physically dropped in real life HOO BOY.

“Shut up!” Bravo cries, almost desperate. “I’m the one in the right, here!” “Says who?” Tango asks.” I actually think this whole conversation is GREAT for Tango’s mental health. Like, i hope this is healing that little hels shaped scar thats been in him since he left. The part of him that always thought he deserved to go back.

“And then he pauses. He stares at Tango, and Tango stares back. “... fuck. What am I doing?” been asking myself that about you this whole time buddy.

“The sword clatters to the ground.” oh i am crying ugly tears rn. That whole realisation/explanation. I’m not gonna copy paste it here but. Fucking beautiful. I am crying.

“For what it’s worth, I- I don’t think ‘being good’ is somethin’ that’s like… intrinsically handed to us, just by virtue of where we spawn. I think good is a choice that we make, every second of every day of our lives. And y’know, deciding not to choose good in one moment doesn’t mean we can never choose good again.” and there it is there it is THERE IT IS!!! THERE IT IS!!!!

“Eventually, Jimmy waves them over. “Hey, so uh, you got somethin’ to say to Timmy?” I would die for Jimmy I would like that on the record please.

“the entire Double Life server has joined Hels.” I’m CACKLING get got Tango you’ve got FRIENDS sucker!!

“Atlas grins.” ALL THE BETTER FOR ME TO KNOCK YOUR TEETH OUT

Fantastic chapter!!! So well worth the wait, I loved every word of it. EVERYBODY SAY THANK YOU AQUA!!!!

auughhh i love asks like this, it’s so great to see what lines resonate w my readers bc like. when i’m writing, i spend so much time reading them and tweaking them and so they kinda lose their impact for me? so this is just really neat to see <3

#hels to pay au #HTP ask

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pastafossa · 4 months

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Hi honey! How are you? How’s your mom doing? I hope she’s better now🥺💚

I’ve recently decided to learn how to book bind bc it’s a must to have my fav fanfics as actual books. I’m still learning and it’s probably gonna take a while before I get the results I want but I wanted to ask you if it was okay with you to book bind The Red Thread? Obviously it would be just for me, I would not sell it or make any profits. (And if it turns out how I want to, I would love to gift you one👀)

It’s one of my favourite fanfics of all time, like it’s a masterpiece and I would love to have a physical copy of it<3

And I know it’s not finished yet but it’d probably have to be a few volumes anyways bc it’s a lot so😅

She's doing ok! Progress is slow but it's definitely happening! She's graduated from at-home physical therapy to outpatient, which is a HUGE thing. We've gotten the house pretty well set up too now (chair lift for a section of stairs not covered before, new railing on the front steps), and between me, dad, and sis's various sleep schedules, we're all able to make sure she has someone nearby when she needs help getting around or opening things. I'm still in caretaker mode and trying to balance everything, but she's getting there, so I hold onto that! As for me, I'm doing... ok I think, considering how exhausting and brutal the past few months have been. I'm taking @shouldbestudying41 's advice and just trying to be kind to myself, and I'll admit my brain seriously needed the break. I continue to miss Cato something awful, but I've felt a little more settled since his ashes came home, and I think I'm starting to adjust to sleeping without him next to my pillow. I also got my follow-up today with my cardiologist on my heart issues and their answer was basically a shrug and a, 'we have no idea why your heart's doing this, but it's getting better every time we test you, so keep doing what you're doing!' Which could be worse. So... I'm getting there. Slow and steady!

And oh my gosh, you absolutely, ABSOLUTELY can bookbind TRT, thank you! 😭The idea anyone would love it enough to bookbind makes me SO FUCKING HAPPY! Hell, if I could sell copies at cost I would, but sadly that's a huge no no and all I can do legally is tell people, YES you can bookbind TRT for your shelf! I'm 100% supportive basically (also I would D I E if I got one, like no pressure at all cause D A Y U M it's a long thing to bind, and also just knowing it's out there on someone's shelf is more than I ever expected would happen so I'm delighted even if you just bind for you!).

TRT volumes one to ten maybe??? LOL. I know I had it planned as a series originally before I decided to just kinda keep it in one thing since we were all already there LOL.

#the red thread #pasta life update #basically mom is doing really well recoverywise! and i'm getting there #the witchy shop has been amazingly supportive and i have people here who've been helping talk me through it along with fam #and the kitties have all been very good cuddlers to me while feeling down about cato #so that's been nice!#and OF COURSE YOU CAN BOOKBIND I LOVE THE IDEA OF BOOKBINDING #i know i've said this before but i never really thought TRT would take off so the idea of ANYONE wanting to bind it is HUGE to me #i always intended it to be a series too and then i just wound up keeping it all in one spot #because... i can't remember #i think i was just feeling lazy when we hit the 'final' chapter of book one and went 'ya'll mind if i keep it all here'#and got a resounding YES THAT'S FINE WE WANT MOAR #and so off we went LOL

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amphiptere-art · 5 months

Text

Lore Origin post for the Locked Door.

There's a lot in the locked door. Many gods, magic, cultures, species, and much more exist within the locked door. So this is actually going to be a origin post, More than an overall lore post. Because there's just too much.

Now there has to be some lore about the gods. Since they do play an integral part, but it is only going to be the higher ones. Any lesser gods, or representative gods I will only speak of in passing.

Now let's start with a basic description of what the locked door is and why it exists.

The locked door is every story I have ever created with a fantasy world in a single place. Basically it was a collection of reoccurring headcanon that I decided to scoop up, and place into a specific world and setting. There are of course universes that exist outside of the locked door, but many of them do exist inside of it.

The creation of the locked door is also old. Very, very, very old. The first time the locked door got a physical identity, was way back in kindergarten. Where I had to make a balloon planet for class. And while there have been many alterations to this first version of the world and everything in it. It has stayed mostly the same.

It is during this balloon planet classroom task. That the locked door gained many of its continents. Now these continents were made when I was a child. So they were very bare bones and copied. In short, you had two pole continents, one for shadow and one for light. You had a continent which was basically pangea, which has now been changed to a sort of beast land. You have a continent that was literally copy and paste of the Middle Earth from Lord of the rings. Which has now been changed to a more generic shape, and is known as the encompassing lands. You had a continent shaped like a dragon. Called dragea. I believe there was a continent for something else, but memory has escaped me. And then there was a small Australian size Island. That later would represent the gateway to the locked door.

Namesake and first stories.

The locked door got its first name sake from a dream that I illustrated into a comic. Now I was a kid. So the dream had many of my toys in it. But to try and describe the dream. I basically got carted away by dragons to go into my fantasy world and fix an issue. Now, there was a very high chance I had already been creating the locked door world. But I unfortunately do not remember anything about its creation until this point.

This dream. Which technically, only the beginning was a dream. Also connects into the Shadow wars. This is technically where the story of Shadow wars 1 comes from. The only difference is that it was from my perspective. From the other dragons perspective. From the world's perspective. Unfortunately I did not smoothen out this storyline for a while. Not until I was getting to the end of junior high and into high school. And this is an origin about the locked door, not the Shadow wars.

The Writer/Dreamer.

But the story also codifies the first God. Which is me. The literal embodiment of the person that was creating the fantasy world of the Locked door. Back then I called it the dreamer. As the whole world's creation revolved around a dream I had. Later on this would be simplified to the writer, the creator, imagination, etc, etc. point is, It's just me as a character inside of my own world.

Unfortunately, me as a god does not appear in any stories after this. And I have thought of rewriting it so I would not be physically there. As a reflection of myself only becomes a new character. An avatar as I would later call them. Avatars soon became the new gods. But in short, I am so omnipotent that the gods themselves know of me but not see me. I am the one that utilizes the gods to make my stories. I am the one that utilizes the people of the locked door to make my stories. Choice is an illusion, that I allow to be.

Tick tock/Clockwork.

But on to the second God that was created. Reminder again. The locked door is just a bunch of headcanons and fantasy worlds boiled down into one. Tick tock as he was once called. Was one of these separate fantasy world's. It was a generic, hero saves the world or area story. I honestly do not remember the details, but I do remember Tick tock's role in it. He was their weapon. A shape shifter into different objects. This power still stays with him today.

Now why did he become a god? It seems like a roundabout story that did wrap itself up eventually. Well, clockwork as I started calling him later on. (Due to a specific platform called TikTok) Is technically the god to all dragons. Now a lot of the gods are dragons. What makes him so special?

Well he was the first dragon that made it impact on me. I drew him over and over and over again. Why? Because in my little brain, The size I could draw him on paper, was his real size. He felt physical in a sense. Something that I could touch, Even if he was still an illustration on paper. He grew to be a size reference. Something I could place next to a character to understand how big they would be in real life.

Soon, clockwork wasn't attached to his story anymore. He was an entity within all of them. Plus with his shape shifting abilities. He soon became a god that could become any shape. A pendant, a sword, a pencil. And well, as you can tell with his name. He also became a keeper of time. Within time, He eventually became the god of time and space. Which was refined as being the embodiment of the characters being placed into the world. He became The pencil. The instrument of creation that could take it away and put it down all the same. He soon became a major creation God for the entirety of the locked door. Becoming my first official avatar.

I will go into the specifics as to why clockwork is the god of dragons in an actual dragon related post. But in short terms here. He was the first classified dragon. He was the first one that was given a classification, and a specific magic. He was the first real dragon that was given purpose outside of just being a dragon.

Alvis the archivist.

Now we get onto another figure. You will soon start to notice that most of these higher gods. Were characters that I illustrated over and over again, that became detached from their main story. Alvis is another one of these. (Do note. It is pronounced AL-vis. Do not say Elvis. I swear to God.)

Alvis was a undead dragon character. This is also when my dragon started to get put into different classes in my head cannon was slowly growing. His first story was something about him teaching a kid. I am honestly unsure though if this is the first story he was in. He truly got detached from his own story. Is I am not sure if this is the first one. But the student character that was in this story, soon became universally known as Red. The student that would learn from the teacher, and pass on his teachings until Alvis came again.

Alvis also became a character that I illustrated over and over again. I enjoyed his undead design, and the mask that he wore. He wasn't as influential as a clockwork. But he was a character I never wanted to forget. I didn't want to forget Alvis's design. Because of this, He became the archivist. Something that would keep track of what was once there. Much like I kept track of his own design. He sits in his infinite library, codifying everything that I've ever made. Every once in awhile coming down to the world of the locked door. And finding his Red. Someone that could pass on the history until that too once faded. He is these Tumblr posts. He is my art books as the paper. He is the written words saved on Google docs.

Eternita. The world.

Now this character, is not connected to the past. Not in the same way as the others. Cosmic Dragons have always been something I wanted to illustrate, but I was never quite happy with. She doesn't have a design I follow. She doesn't have a story she was attached to. But a niche needed to be filled. And what else could I fill it with, but a character that never was.

Eternita is the world we do not see. The ambience in the background, The people's stories we never know, everything that happens outside of the protagonist's eyes.

She was incomplete. Her design was never really made. But her presence was always there. A cosmic dragon that kept the realm of space together, soon became a cosmic dragon that kept the reality of the locked door present. The world vanishes outside of the protagonist's eyes. If there was not somebody that controlled what the world does outside of it. There would be no world. There would be simply the story. Eternita stops that.

She does not have as much history, but she plays an important part as keeping the locked door world alive. I have not made a story within the locked door for a long time. But I know it will always be there, because eternita is keeping it there.

In short.

Clockwork is the pencil that creates the world.

Alvis is the paper/text that those creations exist within.

Eternata is the ambient world that follows after these two.

Now this is a generics of why the locked door exists. And the gods that were made to keep it together.

The locked door is an ancient world that has been going on for a while. All these characters have had enough time, that they became gods for being something memorable. Not all things exist within the locked door. But almost all of existence of my stories, are ruled by these gods. The gods of the locked door.

The locked door is basically a home base. The origin point, The place where all the headcannons come from, a place where every fantasy setting that combines all those headcanons exist.

There are so many continents, and so many different points of time. That everything has almost happened on the locked door. No matter how wild or unfantasy like it is. Is most of the stories that exist on the physical world of the locked door fantasy worlds. Yes. But there are plenty of others that do not follow that rule. Technically the neutral continent can't hold any human like interaction. Plus that secret extra continent that I forget what it was for. I have been thinking of using it as a non-fantasy area of the locked door. Somewhere more easily that those non-fantasy stories can take place.

Now the big question.

Why is it called the locked door?

In the simplest terms. It is a world I can never enter. It is a locked door into an infinite imagination. That dream that I had. The one where I got carted away by dragons to fix a problem within my own world. Well, It ended with me locking the door.

This giant stone with a giant key symbol on it was permanently locked. Because in my opinion, The fantasy world should not be reliant on its creator. It is an infinite abyss of creativity that should not be restrained. I have a life, I have a home. I simply cannot be there when the creations of the locked door wish for help. So in Cannon, I made it so I can never come back.

I can exist as avatars. I have these gods I have put in place after their stories are long forgotten, just so it can run smoothly. Were half of these names made by a child? Yah. I was a child. I was like six. I was just coming out of kindergarten and into junior high. Creating fantastical worlds that soon merged into one. I have added, and added, an added onto this world. I have refined the magic, The creatures, the history into something I will forever remember.

It may be a door I can never walk through. Forever locked. But it will always be there.

It will always be a Locked Door, that I will forever cherish.

#The locked door #clockwork #Alvis #eternita #lore

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yourlakebed · 9 months

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a couple days ago I sent a letter here on tumblr to @neil-gaiman , to which he did not respond (fair enough, he was probably on strike that day from what I've seen on social media, and he also has so many asks per day that I'm honestly amazed how he manages to live his life answering so many of them). but i decided that i want to leave it here anyway. because it came out much more personal than I originally intended and I'd like to have it as a reminder to myself about these part of my life and this version of me.

so the letter goes like this:

hi, mr Gaiman!

I sincerely hope you're having a good day. I'll try to be brief, which is barely possible as I have so much to say.

first of all, I cannot put into words how thankful I am for all your work and especially for what you've done to good omens. throughout the history of tv we were queerbaited and gaslighted to the point where it was even hard to believe that what I'm seeing on the screen had actually happened, and had actually appeared on other people's screens (and I know for sure that lots of people in this fandom share this feelings of mine about season 2). and it's not only about the queerness, but the depth of the story itself. i would very much like to go into all the details about the way your art influenced me on a deep, profound level and helped me realise and accept some very vital aspects of my personality (I was in agony for two months, thank you 🖤).

secondly, I want to thank you on behalf of all your Ukrainian fans. I remember the first months of russian invasion, when was forced to move to Germany, and suddenly found myself completely isolated from everything i knew. it felt like Death, like I was practically separated from Life. so I clung to any type of mental support from the creators I new and loved before. lots of them broke my heart.. and then there were you with all your posts about our situation and encouragement of people to do everything in their power, and your participation in Lviv Book Forum with Noah Harari, and your post here about that one old Ukrainian church (yep, I remember everything!). that meant the world to me and still does.

it was summer and "Sandman". and then it was autumn, and I found myself still in Germany, still completely alone and isolated on a bench in a park reading "The Graveyard Book". and then "Good Omens". I practically used the second season to survive the august, and in the end it helped me to make one of the hardest decisions in my life. now I'm home, in Ukraine again. right now when I was writing this the air alarm went on, but I am happier than i ever had been in this past two years.

i know the chances that you'll see this are very low. but i needed to get this out of my chest and let you know how grateful I am.

and the last one - i finally got my physical copy of Good Omens, and decided to customise it myself. mostly to make the soft cover harder, but also to make it pretty✨️

thank you, mr Gaiman, for everything.

#look how i customised my good omens book!#good omens #neil gaiman #ukraine #i have no idea how to tag this #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #david tennant #michael sheen #aziraphale & crowley #my thoughts #my art

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paleopinesofficial · 11 months

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Play our demo and wishlist on Steam!

Preorder physical copies via our website!

Get on the mailing list for our Lucky Plushie on Makeship! [Transcript under the cut]

So this is the story of kind of a frustrating day at Paleo Pines.

So, start of my day I was going to pick my outfit and it's turns out, I'm poor. and I don't have any outfit choices.

That was embarassing.

So i want on and did all my little tasks for the day, being a little farmer gal, living my best life, you know.

And then i was like- right, to Pebble Plaza I go. That's fine. We're gonna do some shopping, get over it. We're gonna feel better once we get a little bit of shopping done.

So I turn up in the plaza and this…person… is in the cutest outfit I've ever seen, strutting around, and then she says to me "you're not from around here" what- what is that supposed to mean? How am I supposed to take that?

So obviously we're enemies, and I'm gonna get a nicer outfit than her.

So, I went and spoke to Orani and she's new, and she said she would whip me up with some new digs to outdo this other girl, who was… honestly just kind of, like, rude.

I asked this guy what he thought and he said "I don't have a moment to spare, sorry." And I don't really know what that means. So, on my way out I was going to intimidate her and then she just said something about getting apples. And I thought 'hmm, well, we're gonna see about them apples when I come back here'.

So I was going to go home and I got distracted because I seen the CUTEST ankylosaurus and I decided to tame it and, um, she loved me. I loved her. I said 'do you wanna be my friend' she said 'yes' and then I had to name her and I blanked for so long before I was like Daisy's kinda cute, so I'll maybe call her Daisy, so I typed in Daisy and then it almost said 'dairy' and I thought well, that's-that's a bad omen. I don't want to call her Dairy. So, I thought no- I need a new name and I looked at her, and she looks kind of Rocky. So, Rocky Balboa. So, now her name is Balboa.

So, then me, Guava, and Balboa headed back to the ranch. I set her up with some food, her own little pen, got her feeling comofrtable.

Then I was gonna shovel the poo in Raven and Lucky's pen, but they would not let me do it. and i was like "why are you gate keeping this pile of poo?". I got really confused - it turns out that my pockets are full. So, that's why I couldn't scoop it andf they were trying to tell me that I'm an idiot.

So I embarressed myself in front of Raven again. I feel like she's really cool and I feel like she knows that I'm not that cool.

So anyway, um, I thought once again- Pebble Plaza- make myself feel better- and when I was at Pebble Plaza I saw this person in this outfit and I was kind of like 'okay but like mine is gonna be better but I kind of respect it', you know. So then I went to see Owynn and, like, he's fine but I don't knopw that Lucky is because she dove into this bush and I was like "well, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" So I hopped in there with her just to see what the fuss was about and it was pretty chill. Chill vibes in there.

So, then I woke up the next day. My outfit had arrived, so I put that on, ready to show that girl at Pebble Plaza who is the fashion icon in Paleo Pines (it's me, spolier alert). And when I arrived, she wasn't …there… so I was looking around for her and I saw this other guy and he was in a full monotone blue outfit and I was like right, okay, I'll just never be fashion so that's - that's really sad.

#paleo pines #paleopines #indie games #indie dev #customisation #outfit #dinosaurs #ankylosaurus #paleoblr

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iamstartraveller776 · 26 days

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Sorry if this is touchy, but several years ago didn’t you delete everything you’d written because you got religious?

This is a reasonable question and not at all touchy for me. It's only taken me a while to answer because I've had a big family event recently and just now I'm back to my usual day-to-day.

The answer to your question is both yes and no. And it's a long one:

I have always been religious. I was raised in a religious home, spent a little time in my teens asking myself if I shared the faith of my parents and ultimately decided that I did. Married a man of the same faith and we have raised our children the way we were (including supporting their agency to make that choice for themselves).

So if I have always been religious, why did I take down my stories (which happened not once but twice) and why are they all back up now (the ones I was able to recover)? See now, that's where it gets a little more complicated. I think with any personal system of morality—religion-based or not—there is always a level of interpretation, and that interpretation can evolve over time.

Over ten years ago, I had a more stringent view of what was a good use of my time and talents. I did feel that I had crossed the line of my personal boundaries with writing a couple stories that had physical intimacy (and I'll admit that I still have complex feelings about this), but taking down my stories was also about "putting away childish things." I would argue that this is more a cultural phenomenon than specific to my religious faith, but at the time, I felt it was the latter.

The second time I took all my stories down, about six or seven years ago, were for similar reasons: fandom was a "waste of my time" and I could be using my writing skills for better reasons—both making income and "putting away childish things."

There will be no third time. Why? Because I went through something nearly five years ago that dramatically shifted my perspective on many things, including feelings about fandom and writing fanfic. I am still as devout in my faith as I have ever been, perhaps in some ways even more because my relationship with my God has become so deeply personal. But ideals like "putting away childish things" have a different meaning to me now. I no longer view participating in fandom as somehow inherently less enriching or fulfilling than participating in a book club or knitting circle. I no longer view using my skills to write fanfic as less valuable than writing original fiction that can be sold. It's okay to have hobbies that only serve to bring me a little joy.

(Middle age wisdom, here.)

Now, I would be dishonest if I didn't admit that I have edited one of my stories that was originally very M-rated to be T-rated. Also, there are three stories that will never be reposted—mainly because I still don't have a copy of them, but also I'm not sure they would survive being edited for content. I have also orphaned all my RPF stories as I am personally no longer comfortable with the idea of it. But those are still on AO3 if you want to read them. I guess if I ever got the other stories back, I probably could post and orphan those too. Since my return, I have written a little bit of M-rated content, and as I said before, I have complex feelings about that. I recently added a couple to an anonymous collection I made because of those mixed feelings. It's possible that I might not write anything above a T-rating again, but I don't know.

Life experience has taught me to just be in the moment that I'm in, and to let future me have the freedom to make a different choice. Deleting those stories before took that choice away from me. I won't do it again. I also don't want to take stories away from my readers anymore.

So there you have it. The not-so-simple answer to your question.

#star replies #anonymous asks #about me #personal

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thehistoriangirl · 2 years

Text

Natural Inclination

I think this fic is all over the place, but if you allow me, I’ll justify myself saying this was made while the ✨ baby fever ✨ took over my brain. Nevertheless, I hope you like it jkfkjsjkd :3

Jayce x gn!Reader**-----1.3K-----SFW

Summary (very much plotless fluff): Jayce as a dad, that’s it. That’s all. [Thanks for coming to my talk muhuh]

Tags: Domestic Fluff| **No gendered words for Reader but they have a baby| Did I say Fluff already?|

There weren't many people as physically effusive as Jayce Talis.

Even you needed to grow used to his random affections after you two began to date, the not-so-fleeting kisses on the cheek, or the hugs that pulled your body against his chest before he went to work after lunch.

It took some time for you to actively try and be as openly physical as he was, and thankfully, after a couple of awkward hugs, bad positioned kisses, and anticlimactic pats on his head, you obtained the ability to sense his hazel eyes looking at you from the corner of his vision, trying to be subtle.

In the lab or the house, it didn't matter. You were working over your desk—the living room table—but could hear, first the creak in the wood when Jayce left his seat, and then, his tiptoeing toward you.

At some point, your hands were ready to grab his shoulder when he tilted his body to kiss you on the cheek. With some practice you managed to shift your position, so you were kissing him on the lips instead.

You liked the sound of his surprised gasp, muffled halfway with a moan.

But getting used to his unreserved attention took time. Jayce was understandable every time you flinched when he touched you while you were distracted, head buried over paperwork. He learned quickly, deciding to call your name from a few meters away instead: "... Can I hug you?"

You nodded, smiling widely when you were alone. Blushing and looking at him with wide eyes when you weren't, that was most of the occasions.

However, it was only a matter of time before someone came to understand him fully.

It wasn't a matter of imitating, not anymore. It was… natural, one must say.

Inherited.

Ever since Jayce discovered he was about to become a father, he started to be even more physically drawn to you—you imagined that was the reason the baby copied his intense affection. Cuddling over the bed on the cold nights you two were still working, with you sitting between his legs, both lazy picking cookies and slices of fruit put in a bowl on the nightstand.

Of course, you weren't the only one to gain weight during the pregnancy.

Whatever the reason, the baby got drawn toward Jayce from the first moment. He used to lull her when you were too exhausted to even lift the covers of the mattress before falling asleep—which was most of the time. Sometimes, you were cold because Jayce wasn't hugging you, only to discover him stiffly sleeping on his back, your baby tucked carefully over his chest as his hands hovered over her figure.

Most of his free time, Jayce spent with his baby tucked between his arms, or hung at his chest, because the little creature seemed to be totally obsessed with him, discovering that babbling 'apapapapa' would make her father totally besotted, almost tearing up as the first time he heard his child calling him Apa, tiny hands all over his face as she giggled as if trying to memorize him by tact alone.

Time passed fast, especially when watching over a baby that soon enough was out of the craddle, moving on her baby walker, bouncing with chubby legs against the couches as Jayce looked, hands frozen in the air and lips open in a silent gasp. But the baby didn't slow down, and soon enough Jayce could hear his baby crawling, following him with happy coos, dragging a stuffed poro over the floor.

"Apa, apa, apa!" she said, completely ignoring your figure peeking from the corner of the bedroom, hands folded over your elbows as your lips expanded with a smile you couldn't completely hide.

Jayce set aside the locks of hair covering his eyes as he knelt to be somewhat at her height. "Princess, I told you to stay in the bedroom. I'm going to take a shower—" But his same hazel eyes looked back at him, the baby pouting, lip quivering, just like you did when you tried to make him spend more than with you, responsibilities aside. He was weak, and she knew it. "Alright. I guess it's time for you to take a bath, too."

He lifted her with one arm, the other taking the plushie out her grasp as Jayce walked inside the bedroom, baby crooning half-words she must have heard from your daily conversations with Jayce, others that could only be the result of discussions between Viktor and Jayce—you'd never said the word catalyst inside the house (and maybe never).

As the stuffed animal laid on the bed, Jayce took the pile of clothes you'd put in bed around half an hour ago when Jayce first said he was about to take a shower. Of course, he didn't, for his child wasn't done playing. And who was he to stop her? He didn't have many days off per week to indulge himself in quality time with his baby.

"We'll be back," he said, stealing a peek out of you while passing next to you, the little clothes tucked under his free arm, your baby playing with the loose threads of his towel.

He did feel bad for being unable to spend as much time with you as you were used to, but at least you didn't replicate his same puppy eyes, now improved with a teary feature, lips trembling. Now, Jayce understood what you called, chuckling every time: "top-quality trickery".

It happened many times, but especially, when he put his child down on the crib, still not completely sleepy, wishing to have some time alone with you. You'd be both laying on the living room's bigger couch, him asking you to read out loud any books you were revising to present in your classes. The baby would then sit despite him putting her perfectly tucked in the covers, little fist moving up and down as Jayce stepped further. Panting would follow, and then it would culminate in a shaky, filled with sadness: "a…pa…pa…" Without hesitation, and with his heart shattered, he would pick her up and shush to calm her, just a little.

As fast as it came, the tears would dry away.

That day, you finished planning your class a couple of hours later, and silence poured from the bedroom. Tiptoeing against the cold, wooden floor, you saw Jayce sleeping with a baby happily snuggled over his chest, his sleeping gown open to cover his daughter's back, even if he wasn't properly covered by the blankets.

The mattress dipped over your weight, Jayce turning his head toward you. He didn't have such a light sleep before meeting you—he usually slept over his stomach, and not even a storm raging outside would wake him up, and you suspected it only changed when your baby was born.

And speaking of. Jayce rubbed his eyes, sitting carefully to not awaken the little human over his chest. His hands were dexterous, repeating the same mastered movements to put the baby inside the crib, cover her with the fluffy blankets, and then activate the silent mechanism both he and Viktor ideate to move the cradle automatically.

When he returned to the mattress, you had already put the covers aside, leaving him an open entrance. You yawned, patting the pillow next to yours.

"Rough day, uh?" you whispered, your breath moving Jayce's black hair against his ear, making him shiver.

Jayce hugged you, as usual, the inner force trying to push sleep away, but his eyelids were heavy as he pushed you down the covers, your cheek pressed against his chest.

"I don't mind," he said, lips barely open as he kissed the top of your head, snuggling against your hair as Jayce sighed one last time before his breathing became even, muscle memory cradling your torso the same way he did with your baby.

With that thought in mind, gazing over Jayce's peaceful features, and then further, over the cradle outlined with the moonlight, you fell into slumber, a soft smile playing on your lips.

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adammbakri · 1 year

Text

Mulan

Apart from that one time back in my school years, I never had to resort to violence in order to get what was my right, or in order to defend myself. The situation rarely called for it, and generally speaking I was a very peaceful kid growing up.

“Cry if you need to! But don’t you ever let anybody hit you” was one of my mother’s repetitive counsels that almost turned into a daily morning mantra as I prepared to head out for school. But for some reason- an ultimate mystery to me- the kids who bullied me weren’t able to practice their bullying skills on me physically! They just did their best verbally, at times very aggressively, but then went about their business seeing that I didn’t respond. Was it the mantra? an aura? Or maybe my contemplative nature giving off a certain intensity that pushed them away ? But all I did was sit there and stare at them. Perhaps unconsciously contemplating the inner dissonance I was slowly getting acquainted with in other kids. I was confused more than ready to fight back if I had to. In any case they all eventually left me alone unscathed.

Except for Yusif.

I was eleven, and already enjoying my summer break to the fullest when the Disney animation Mulan had just come out! My mother bought us (Yafa and me) the VCR. A luxury we couldn’t always afford at the time, but mom always seemed to have found ways to provide. I watched and rewatched Mulan endlessly. Becoming so obsessed, to the point where I knew it by heart. Mulan was everything I thought I wasn’t at the time. She was brave, and rebellious. Vulnerable but not weak. She would do anything to protect who she loved, even if she had to die. I couldn’t do all that! But I had one thing in common with Mulan: I was hiding who I am in the world outside my home. Maybe that is why I loved her so much! I was an overly sensitive and shy 11 years old boy who was alienated by the tiny world outside his safe haven. It seemed to me that the entire village had a huge issue with my sensitivity! To me, the Ilbi’ne dwellers seemed to be on a mission to do anything they can to stop me from being “touchy”! To turn me from being “so weak and mama’s boy” into a “man”. It almost felt like the Meuzzin would finish his call to prayer one day and follow it with a special announcement to my mother: “Emm Saleh’ stop spoiling your kid. He is too sensitive because of your over-indulgence and pampering, you will destroy him, he will will grow up to become a sassy”.

It goes without saying I felt extremely weakened by that pressure. Ashamed by simply being me outside my mother’s household. Almost every word I said, every little gesture I made was met with some form of criticism. So outside became a space where I could practice my half-me existence perfectly. I would step outside the house and start a shrinking performance, morphing back into a caterpillar. Inside however, the world of my bedroom became the Universe itself! An infinity that could contain me unconditionally. Giving reins to my imagination and day dreams. A lap where my sensitivity was deemed an absolute treasure by my mother who did everything she could to nurture my creativity, and feed my imagination. A pure, blissful existence.

For my mother, nothing was more important than my education though. To this day, I wonder how she could afford all the English and American teachers she sent me to, who gave me private lessons at our home. There was Mark, who frequently passed gas, Steve who was usually bored, Robin who slept most of the time and only woke up when I banged the book on the table, and Liz, who assigned her niece to make us copy letters and words. I often wonder if they taught me anything at all! To make a long story short, my mother decided to move me to a new school after the summer break because the elementary school in our village was in poor condition. The garbage collectors had been on strike for too long, leaving a terrible smell everywhere, and she was dissatisfied with the overall level of education. I welcomed the idea with open arms; leaving the village and venturing into a new world was exactly what I needed to escape those who tirelessly judged me.

Of course , due to my new obsession, mom got me a Mulan school bag for the new school year! The bag was just beautiful! Green and black, with many front and side pockets, and of course Mulan on the back! Riding her horse, holding her beautifully curved sword, and the little dragon- her protector and inner guide- hovering around her! I counted the seconds to wear it to school! And so it felt exhilarating when the day finally came!

Sadly my rapture didn’t last too long! The first few weeks at school were miserable. I thought I had escaped from the bullying of the kids in my village, only to find myself being bullied for a new set of reasons: I am an outsider who didn’t have the same religious background, and didn’t speak the same dialect. But Yusif was the worst nightmare of it all! For some strange reason, he detested me! It’s as if Yusif’s first thought as he woke up every morning was “yayyyy it’s another day of bullying Adam” ! From stealing my stuff, to hiding them, to verbal abuse, to telling lies about me… Yusif was just one of a kind. And it didn’t help that his desk was right behind mine! I could see that his bullying could eventually lead to physical violence, but I kept praying that it wouldn’t.

Needless to say I suffered. So much. And the only thing that provided some consolation for my misery was Mulan! I would walk into school carrying Mulan, her horse, the dragon and the sword on my back! Feeling empowered. Recharged for the day! They were all mine! They had my back! I was somewhat content with the illusion I had created that no matter what happens, as long as Mulan is in my vicinity, I am safe.

One day, I asked the teacher for permission to use the bathroom. I must have been gone for barely ten minutes, but when I returned to my seat, to my utter horror, I saw Mulan's face and her friends' faces filled with harsh ink scribbles! My heart sank, terrified at the thought that I could never clean that ugliness away since the material of the bag where Mulan was inscribed was thick rubber. Sensing Yusif must have been the only perpetrator, I immediately looked back at him, and sure enough, he had the most disturbing smirk on his face—a mixture of triumph and cruelty. He had discovered the place where he could hurt me the most: Mulan. I wanted to scream in anguish, but I couldn't. The class was still going, and the teacher couldn't possibly allow that sort of interruption. So I resolved to hold back my tears and sat in my chair, crushed.

The bell rang. It was the last lesson of the day. I put my stuff in my bag, closed it, carried it on my back, and without even glancing at Yusif, I exit the classroom.

I was about to cross the street and get in the car with my brother Hassan who had come to pick me up when I heard a voice from behind me. "Hey," said Yusif, as I turned to face him. "Wanna fight?" To my own complete surprise, I didn't flinch for a second. I punched Yusif so hard that his nose bled, then jumped on him like a wild animal. We both fell to the ground, and I put him under me while grabbing his neck. With our faces almost touching, I looked him in the eye and said, "Don't come near me again.".

Tears come to my eyes as I’m writing this. Seeing Yusif’s horrified look in my mind’s eye, begging me to stop.

Reflecting on this story now, after all those years, has given me a profound inner understanding that I will carry for the rest of my life: Yusif didn't hate me. Instead, he wanted to be me. What caused him to treat me the way he did for as long as he could was that I was a constant reminder of everything he wasn't allowed to be!

If Yusif hadn't been hardened by the same society that judged my sensitivity and tried to mold me into their version of “man”, he would never have done what he did to Mulan or to me. He would have been a beautiful eleven-years-old boy occupied with thoughts of fairy tales or football, cried when he needed to, and filled the air with his laughter day and night. But he couldn't. They had stolen his right to be himself: a child.

Was it Yusif I hit? or the world that made him who he is not? The same world that tried so hard to turn me into a Yusif. But failed miserably.

Yusif never bothered me again.

I couldn’t clean the bag but I still wore it to school. My Mulan was still there after all!

despite the scribbles…

Adam

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