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fadingdaggerr · 2 days

Note

Hii!! I hope you've had a great day!!

So, I had this idea and I can't stop thinking about it, it's like rotating in my brain like a Rotisserie Chicken. IDK if you're still taking requests but I just had to send this.

Anyway, Melissa and reader are in someone else's house (R parents or idk some kind of sleepover with the teachers) and for some reason they can't sleep together in the same bed/room, like they're used to, which is concerning R because Melissa doesn't really sleep well alone.

But Mel tries to ease R saying she'll be just fine for one night, and very reluctantly R agrees.

Well, it turns out she can't. R and obviously a few others in the house wake up to Melissa's screaming in the middle of the night and R runs to her, shes is sobbing, shaking and clutching R for dearlife, just absolutely terrified and not even letting R move. R calm her down and take care of her, like with a lot of fluff and comfort.

I'm just obsessed with R taking care of Mel and being really sweet.

Yeah that's it. I love your stories, they are really really good. And I could only think of you when this thing came out of my brain.

+ I absolutely loved what you did in "Know I'm Alive", I was kicking my feet and internally screaming. (I sent that anon 👉👈) So thanks, I enjoyed it a lot, like a lot a lot, like, if I could I would eat that it.

You're really talented!! <3

by the sun, by the moon

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! | 4.8k

includes: no pronoun use for r, fluff, hurt/comfort, family play fights/sibling banter, r’s family adores mel, probably ooc!mel oops

warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamic (short), attempted violence (short), mentions/insinuations of sex, one outdated traditional value, sleep difficulties/nightmares, anxiety/panic attack

note: please feel free to skip the section that discusses the unhealthy relationship dynamic/violence. it begins after the first section divide with the line “for her entire childhood…” those topics are only explicitly stated there and only referenced one other time. please do not feel as tho you need to read triggering material to understand the story, i tried to make it understandable without having to read potentially distressing content :)

Melissa’s head tips back when she hears you coming back downstairs, having been waiting for you since your mom called during The Real Housewives time. The way you’re watching your feet with furrowed brows makes her fully turn until she’s kneeling on the couch, leaning over the back to get closer to you.

“Something wrong?” Melissa asks, reaching to grab your hand to pull you closer.

You shake your head, “no, no.” Warm hands rise to cradle the redhead’s face, “how would you feel about spending the night at my parents place Saturday? They’re hosting Jonah’s birthday, wanted our help to set up the night before.”

Her eyes widen, “just Saturday night?”

“Just Saturday,” you reaffirm, tucking a loose hair behind her ear. She cautiously nods, barely moving. “We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with it, I’m not going to make you.”

“I know, I know,” she says through her breath, “we’ll stay the night.” The kiss you press to her forehead feels heavier than just a silent thank you.

—☽—

For her entire childhood and through her marriage, Melissa slept like a rock. She slept through Kristen Marie’s and Joe’s snoring, her college girlfriend’s sleep talking, her parents having a screaming match so loud the cops got called. Before starting teaching, she even had to train herself to wake up at the sound of her alarm, knowing that being late to the school was ten times worse than being late to JC Penney.

Two years after she finally left Joe, Melissa met Eric.

Tall, charming, nice-smelling Eric with his salt-and-pepper beard always tidy, a covered up Marine tattoo on his forearm. He’d bought her drink after his friend accidentally knocked hers off the counter of the bar, and two hookups later, she was agreeing to a real date. Three months later, she was his girlfriend and allowed him into her apartment. He got to know where the spare key was hidden after a year.

Eric was everything Joe was not. During arguments, Joe would shut down and leave, only returning when he smells like cheap liquor and some other woman’s perfume. Eric always stayed, told her his point of view, listened to hers, calmly told her when she was overreacting. He was smooth, never raised a hand towards her or threw things at the walls. Melissa always knew when she was in the wrong, but he never made her feel bad about it.

Eric was particular. He liked his shirts folded a certain way, beer only from a glass, and silence when he worked. If she was excited about anything, he only ever allowed her to speak about it until he’d lost interest, almost always by the time she paused to take a breath. When he properly introduced her to his friends, his hand on her knee would tighten when she spoke. Quickly, she learned that the tighter the grip, the less she should speak. Four hours at some sports bar and Melissa had only been able to say a total of six sentences. Eric liked Melissa quiet. Melissa became quiet.

He started to prod about meeting her family, and she shut him down. Again and again. The fourth time, he banged his fist against the table, the end of his fork creating a small dent. Green eyes fixated on the dent as he began to calmly explain that he had introduced her to his family, it was her turn. Mumbling those were your buddies got her stuck on her own couch that night, clutching the blanket Nana made her before she started college.

Two months later, she began to slowly bring back Eric’s clothing to his apartment on the off-chance they went there for a night. Grading her student’s assignments began to take longer and she triple-checked the scores to waste more time, suddenly too tired to have sex or even talk before going to sleep. Otherwise, she listened to his rules, spoke when spoken to, cooked when asked.

The morning he narrowly avoided calling her a moron to her face when she made the eggs over-medium instead over-easy, she officially made her choice. That night, at the Italian restaurant he brought her to, she called it off.

“Why?” Eric asked, eyes stone, unwavering from hers.

She took a deep breath, “you treat me like a pet. Speak when spoken to, move when told, I’m sick of it.” Her grip on the table cloth tightened, “tomorrow, I will put your stuff outside. You’ll pick it up when I tell you to, and then you will leave.”

He sits back in his chair, tongue poking at his bottom lip, “and if I don’t want to break up?”

“Too bad,” she shrugs. Standing from the table, Melissa leaves him with the check and the sad excuse of Italian cuisine on the table.

At work the next day, it takes all morning, lunch, and prep to fully debrief Barbara on everything that had been going on. It made sense to the kindergarten teacher why she had yet to meet this Eric fella, but after hearing this, she knew Melissa wasn’t proud of getting herself in this situation. A promise of a wine weekend and greasy food makes Melissa truly smile. Barbara hadn’t realized how fake every little grin had been until now, she missed her best friend.

That afternoon, Melissa came home to the loose brick that hid her spare key ajar. The blood in her veins runs cold. Opening the unlocked door, glass scratches across the wooden floor, crunching under her heels. Every picture frame, the television, the radio, the coffee table, the stovetop, the tea set from her grandfather, all smashed to pieces. Holes were in nearly every wall, the stair railing broken. The entire first floor was destroyed, only upstairs was left pristine, as if nothing had happened at all. Bat in hand, she checks every closet, under her bed, in the bathtub, everywhere. He was gone.

Leaning against the wall, she slides down and sobs. Melissa is forced to make a choice she didn’t want to make. Opening her phone, she calls Joe.

Joe, despite everything he had done, was at Melissa’s house within the hour. In one hand he held a bag from the hardware store, containing new locks and keys, the other hand had his very own bat, nails pounded through the wood. Like he said when they signed the papers, just because he wasn’t in love with her, doesn’t mean he didn’t care.

Three weeks later, after things had settled and locks were changed, Melissa felt more secure. Still every night, she woke at every sound, wind and the smoke detector quickly became her mortal enemies. Bundled in her soft pajamas and thick comforter one night, she finally fell into a hard, deep sleep forced from pure exhaustion.

Paperclips, a screwdriver, and a small sheet of flexible metal are all someone needs to pick a lock and shift the deadbolt. Eric surely knew that, always the smart man, yet never the brightest. Slowly, he moved up the stairs, bourbon fueling his motions as well as his heavy steps.

A particularly loud thunk wakes Melissa, hand flying under her pillow to the bat Joe had made her promise to keep there. Another thump made her jump out of bed and to the side of her dresser with an iron grip around Edith Houghton. When her door opened, she stayed pressed into the corner, hoping she stayed hidden just long enough for him to leave so she could grab her phone.

Liquor breeds stupidity, worsens it when it is already present, and Eric had left to check the bathroom. Quickly, Melissa called the police, shakily texting Joe as she whispered to the operator. At that point, she didn’t care who got there first. She just wanted to be free of him.

She moved to a new apartment before the month even ended. Barbara insisted on cameras, which Gerald installed. Joe insisted on a nailed up bat, which he made himself. Not a night has gone by since then where she didn’t have it within arms reach of the bed.

It took six years for her to sleep again.

—☽—

The light tracing of nonsensical patterns on her abdomen is what wakes Melissa, eyes cracking open to the bright sun peeking through the curtains. She wishes now, more than ever, that she had agreed to the blackout curtains, groaning into her pillow. With the knowledge she’s now awake, several soft kisses press against her shoulder, traveling to her neck. With a sleepy grin on her face, Melissa turns to face you.

“Morning,'' you mumble against her lips, hand traveling up to her hair to separate the knots that you created. “Sleep good?”

The only response you get is a little huff that almost sounds like yeah, her face burying in your neck to hide from the light. You lay there with her, finishing your detangling mission as Melissa’s nails trace up and down your arm. A final, sound kiss lands on the crown of her head before you shuffle out from underneath her, reaching for your previous discarded university shirt and sweatpants. The redhead watches through droopy eyes, scanning over you before your pajamas cover everything she adores.

“Gotta get up, beautiful,” you say through a yawn as you walk out the room, “we need to be leaving for one.” A tiny groan escapes her lips as she rises from the bed, though a small smile crosses her lips when she sees your sweatshirt thrown over the chair in the corner, just waiting for her.

Not even halfway down the stairs, there’s a clatter from the kitchen and a quiet exclamation of fuck. “You’re not even awake and you want me up,” Melissa says as she walks to the coffee maker. She’s met with a small slap on her ass in return, not even caring to be embarrassed of the girlish giggle she lets out.

Whose fault it is that you’re late leaving, who could tell? Between the forgoing packing and wrapping your cousin’s present last night for a taste of Melissa and her lack of pants this morning, it’s hard to say. Nothing that going a gentle twenty over on the highway can’t mend.

Driving up the dirt road, the dense trees thinned and your parent’s yellow house came into view. Your father’s questionably functional truck sits in the front of the garage, your mom and brother’s cars parked close together on the lawn. Seeing the way your hands tighten on the steering wheel, Melissa slides her hand from your elbow to the free hand on your thigh, playing with your rings to calm you. Being at your parents house was always overwhelming, fun, but overwhelming.

Narrowly avoiding scraping the side, you pull in next to your brother’s car. Looking at each other, you and Melissa give each other a nod of we got this. She’d been over here before, she’d been to three family reunions and almost every birthday party, but never had you two stayed the night, always being some of first to leave to sleep in your own bed.

With a little grunt, you hop out of the car and jog to Melissa’s side to open her door. She gives you a half glare when you tap her hand away from helping carry the bags in, you never let her lift a finger, if you can help it.

“Well, look who decided to show up!”

Both you and Melissa jump at your mother’s yell from the porch, bangles clanking together as she widely waves to the both of you. Gravel crunches under her feet as she rushes over to the two of you, immediately pulling Melissa into a hug. Before you were banned from saying it, you used to joke that your parents preferred your girlfriend to their own child. The giant smile on Melissa’s face when she interacts with your family makes it worth it.

Tumbling upstairs, you bring your bags into your childhood bedroom with Melissa close behind. Even with every time she had been here, she loved being in your room. It was a time capsule of your life before college, all the posters of bands and movies still hanging on the walls, trinkets covering every space. She particularly loved the little collection of rocks on your bookshelf, clearly in order from favorite to least favorite.

The bed bobs as you both drop onto the mattress, groaning at the comfort after three hours in the car. You turn your face towards her, leaning to press a kiss to her shoulder, “I love you.”

Melissa leans in closer, “I love you, too.” She watches your eyes flick to her lips, beating you to the chase and pressing her lips to yours softly. It takes every ounce of effort to not moan at your tongue tracing her lip, her hand coming up to grip your shirt and keep you close. Stomping up the stairs makes you both jump apart, feeling like teenagers getting caught, not that the room was helping.

The door opens to show your dad, boots trekking in dirt that will inevitably get him in trouble with your mom. The hand not on the doorknob is over his eyes, “you two better be decent. Ma has lunch ready downstairs and clothing is probably mandatory.”

“Knock it off,” you mumble as you shuffle towards him so he can give your head a gentle noogie. Neither of you were big on hugs, only really being physically affectionate with your partners, but the love is always clear in every fistbump and hand on your shoulder.

You and Melissa trail behind your father as he goes to the kitchen, both fighting laughs after nearly getting caught by your dad. However, the second your mom peers over at the two of you, you both act like you had been silent the whole time, eyes flicking around in feigned innocence.

Lunch is a mismatch of all the foods your mom made for the birthday party the next day, making you all be her taste testers, even if she only really wants Melissa’s opinion as the other cook in the family. Pasta salad, potato salad, mac and cheese, shortcake, even some chicken with her new lemon pepper recipe. You and your brother fight over who gets first dibs on the pasta salad, ending with his wife taking the serving spoon from your hands and grabbing some for herself.

“Act your age,” Kennedy says to her husband, making you laugh, before she gives you a sharp glance, “that goes for you, too.” Melissa turns away to unsuccessfully hide her own laugh from you.

Lunch ends with your mom and your brother arguing over another serving of macaroni, “we need food for tomorrow! Fuck’s sake, Marcus.”

—☽—

Your father divides everyone into groups to set up the backyard. Your mother takes Melissa and Kennedy to help set up the tables and lights, forcing you and Marcus to help your father with the tent, bonfire pit, and yardgames.

Getting all the yardgames for the little cousins was the easy part, even if it took a while because the three of you had to play a game of cornhole before you could do anything else. None of you got a single one in after two turns, making you all set into defeat, the game was agreed between the three of you to be stupid now. With your father taking a break now, getting the tent together was a doomed venture with you and Marcus.

“If you don’t let me hold it up, it’s gonna keep falling.”

“Fuck off! No, it won’t,” Marcus says with confidence, trying to stand the tent all at once before securing it. Four had already fallen, and a job that should only take twenty minutes was taking nearly an hour.

“How is it gonna stay up if nothing’s holding it, huh? Thought you knew everything?” He flips you off and doesn’t answer, continuing putting the spike in the ground, though without the other end being held up, the weight pulls it down again. Giving up, you walk away and attempt to find your dad for something else to do. You stop in your tracks, just step from the patio.

Watching Melissa with your family always makes butterflies erupt in your chest. She used to be so nervous around them, uncharacteristically quiet and meek, but now she’s almost as carefree with them as she is with her own. The sunlight makes her hair shine, and it’s damn near impossible to look away. It seems you’re of similar mind, her head turning towards you, fighting a grin when she sees the dopey grin on your face.

You almost start to walk towards her, but a strong hand pulls you back. Your dad pushes the hatchet into your hands, “you’re on firewood duty.”

“Bu-”

“Nope, you’re not slinking off to your girl. Go chop the wood, Casanova,” he says as he walks back to help Marcus with the tent.

It’s hours before you even get a chance to see Melissa again, as if your parents were keeping you apart. Which they were, knowing that you’d ignore everything you had to do if it meant you got to just look at Melissa. By the time you got back inside, the button up you’d been wearing was abandoned on a lawn chair and you were out of breath. How much firewood does one bonfire even need?

Walking in the backdoor into the kitchen, Melissa is leaning against the counter, her eye on the mixer filled with what will be cheesecake going to your tanktop clad form as she chats with Kennedy. Creeping up beside her, you wrap an arm around her waist and press a lingering kiss to her cheek, mumbling a greeting into her skin before trudging upstairs to shower the sweat and dirt off.

—☽—

By the end of the night, everyone is half-awake and struggling to keep their eyes open as a TV movie drones on. Neither you or Melissa are paying attention, too wrapped up in one another in the arm chair. Legs dangling over the arm, Melissa is seated on your lap, head tucked into your shoulder as you mindlessly play with her hair. The hand on the back of your neck stops its soft ministrations, her breathing slowing as she fights falling asleep.

You speak quietly for only her to hear, “you ready for bed?” She just nods against you, and you tap her legs to prompt her to move. Her hands hold onto your arm to steady herself, wavering where she stands.

“Alright, we’re calling it. Night guys, we’ll see you in the morning,” you announce into the room as Melissa starts going towards the stairs, not trusting her ability to speak when she’s this tired. You get a quiet chorus of night before you walk to the stairs, but your mother’s voice stops your movements.

“Jellybean, could you do me a favor and take the trash out before you head upstairs?” she asks without taking her eyes off the TV.

You internally groan before nodding, turning to Melissa, “go up, baby. I’ll be right there.”

This catches your mother’s attention, immediately moving to face you, “you mean to say ‘goodnight,’ right?”

“What?”

Her eyebrows rise, “you’re saying goodnight, then going to your room. Right?” Melissa’s blood immediately runs cold, color draining from her face. If she was tired two minutes ago, she was wide awake now.

“No...” you say slowly, confused, “why would Mel not also be in there?” You peak over your shoulder to Melissa, giving her a look before your attention is back on your mother.

“So, you’re staying in the guest room? Or is Melissa?”

Your face screws up, “Neither of us? My room’s got a full, that’s fine for us.”

“No.”

“Hell you mean ‘no,’ Ma? Marcus and Kennedy are sharing a full, it’s not a huge deal,” you hear Melissa step down from the stairs, her shaky hand holding your elbow.

“Marcus and Kennedy are married, unlike you two. I know you live together, but my roof, my rules. You know that,” she says matter-of-factly. The other three people in the room pointedly avoid looking at you, not wanting to get on your mom’s bad side.

You argue back, “that’s fucking ridiculous, Ma. We are grown adults, in a relationship.” The arched brow on your mother’s face tells you that you shouldn’t be arguing, but she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know about the panic that is starting to eat away at Melissa’s veins at the sudden thought of sleeping without you, something she hasn’t done once in over three years now.

“No rings, two beds. Don’t think I won’t be checking.”

Not wanting to make more of a scene, Melissa tugs on your arm to gain your attention. Turning to her, you can see the silent plea in her eyes for you to give it up. Shoulders sagging, you let out a grumbled fine. Breaking away from her, you go to the kitchen and roughly pull the trash from the bin. It takes a great deal of effort to not slam the door as you stomp to the garage. When you come back in, you don’t bother saying anything to anyone, just wrapping an arm around Melissa to guide her upstairs.

When you get into your room, you shut the door and lean against it with a huff. The two of you silently change into your pajamas, moving slowly from exhaustion and an attempt to prolong your time together. Melissa turns away to fold her clothes on the bed, and you move to wrap your arms around her waist, propping your chin on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I’ll stay in here tonight. Not like she can’t ground me anymore.”

Melissa turns in your arms, loosely wrapping her own around your shoulders, “it’s alright, I’ll be fine. I don’t want her mad at you for my sake.”

“Baby-”

“Don’t do that,” she says, though the sigh in her voice gives away her uncertainty, “I’ll be okay, amore.”

Your eyes scan over her face before you nod. Her arms pull you closer, noses brushing before she presses a sound kiss to your lips. Melissa’s arms shift and her hands cup your face, moving your head to press kisses to your cheeks, forehead, and chin, until the sour look on your face disappears.

Tugging her into you, you bury your head into her neck, pressing a long kiss there. From her neck you mumble, “I’ll be in the room right next door.”

“I’ll survive in the guest room, this is your bedroom,” she says, though she doesn’t fully mean it.

“What’s mine is yours. Plus, this one’s more comfortable, you’ll thank me later,” you hug her tighter, “so... I will be next door.”

“I told you, I’ll be fine,” she says. It’s more for her than you this time. Three years. Three years of falling asleep with you still awake beside her and waking up with you already looking at her.

You walk her back towards the bed, getting in with her, though not under the covers. With everyone, especially your mother, you don’t think it’ll hurt to stay until Melissa falls asleep. Her back presses to your front, hand holding yours to her chest, fast beating heart beneath. In a hushed voice, you speak about little things that don’t matter in hopes that it will calm her enough. Slowly her breath evens out, face burying into the pillow as it always does when you hold her like this.

Carefully, you detangle yourself from her and press a kiss to her hair, “I love you.” Stepping out of the room slowly, you leave the door cracked just a little and eye Melissa before turning. At the top of the stairs is your mother, brows raised.

“You better be going to your own bed,” she says quietly, though her tone is hard.

Rolling your eyes, you respond, “I am. Just had to make sure Melissa was asleep first.” You try to go into the room next door, but your mom’s face is silently asking for context, “she doesn’t sleep well. Different place, different sleeping arrangement, it’s difficult.”

You don’t particularly appreciate the dismissive way your mom just nods before walking towards the master bedroom, clearly thinking it was just an excuse, but it’s too late to fight about it. The sooner you sleep, the sooner you can wake up and crawl into bed with Melissa before she wakes. You watch the crack in the door and listen for Melissa until sleep comes over you.

—☽—

Something wakes you just past three in the morning, an ear splitting scream coming from next door. At first, you think it’s just your own anxiety, closing your eyes slowly. A second scream, this time of your name, and you’re springing out of bed, throwing the door open hard enough to bounce off the wall and slam shut. Four steps bring you to your childhood bedroom, rapidly swinging the door open to run in, not noticing the others joining you in the hall.

When you get into the room, moonlight illuminates Melissa where she’s sitting up with a hand gripping her shirt as she breathes in quick, panicked pants, eyes flying around the room until they land on you. Before she can even reach for you, you’re practically pouncing on the bed to get in front of her. Your hands go to her shoulders, her own gripping your forearms, her watery eyes darting around your face. Taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, you motion for Melissa to mimic you, trying to slow her rapid breath and heart.

Short gasps become slow, shaky breaths as panic begins to fade and tears form. A whimper of your name makes you pull her into you, her arms gripping your shirt and she cries into your neck. Between broken sobs, only the words window, knife, and everywhere and mention of a him come through, but you understood. This wasn’t the first time Eric’s actions haunted her at night, though it had been nearly two years since she’d woken up in a sweat.

Peeking over your shoulder, you see your parents and brother in the doorway. The look you give your mother is filled with anger and a raised brow that says I told you to listen. The clear fury makes your father pull her back towards their own room, pushing your brother to his. Some level of courtesy hits your mom, closing the door fully before she gets tugged away.

Attention back on Melissa, you alternate between playing with the ends of her hair and lightly dragging your nails over her back under her shirt. You tuck her hair behind her ear, tacky from tears, “you’re safe, Mel. Nothing and no one’s going to hurt you, I promise. I wouldn’t let them.”

Rocking side to side gently, you feel her breathing return to normal, body no longer shaking from tears. Trying not to jostle her, you turn your body to lay down with her, keeping her tucked into your neck with your arms around her. Pressing a kiss to her head, you slide an arm down to grab her hand, lacing your fingers together.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, just below your ear.

You squeeze her hand, “you never have to apologize for this. If anything, I’m the one that should be sorry. I should have stayed.”

She sniffled, “I’m a grown woman, I should be able to sleep alone.”

“And I should be able to stand up to my mother about sleeping in the same bed as my girlfriend, yet here we are,” you say jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

Thankfully, she chuckles, the vibration on your skin making you smile, “so it’s all your fault.”

“I’ll gladly take the blame,” you mumble as you settle into the bed more, relaxing as you feel the redhead relax against you.

In a sudden move, Melissa props herself up over you, hair dangling in your face. Leaning down, she kisses your forehead, then each cheek, and finally your lips, long and loving. It’s a quiet thanks that she will never owe you.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you more,” you whisper back.

It takes half an hour for sleep to creep back in, Melissa’s breathing growing slow where she rests on your chest, your heart beating under her ear. When she eventually falls back asleep against your chest, you stay awake and trace lines on her back. You’ll gladly stand guard if it means she sleeps peacefully, stay awake if it means she’s safe.

note: solaris write a fic under 3k like u planned challenge good lord man. also thank you thank you for the compliment, it’s an honor to be the first person u thought of to write this. i hope i did ur vision justice <3

as always, feedback appreciated <3

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #lgbtq fanfiction #lesbian #lgbtq

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jimblejamblewritings · 3 days

Text

the fake date plot | part 8.

Summary: Gryffindors, seventh years, classmates, unrequited love. Just a few things Y/N and James Potter had in common. When a brilliantly dumb plan is hatched the two end up getting something a little different than what they wanted.

Warnings for the Series: oh, this is a slowburn now. Or at least that's the plan.

Pairing: James Potter x reader

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: yeah I know I've been gone for a year... I have no words, my bad

Previous Part | (Series Chapter List)

Heads turned when you and James walked into the Great Hall laughing as you held a bunch of stuff and he held ten times more in his arms than you did. It took a lot of convincing you but James Potter had money and liked to spend it. Your ideas of currency were very different and to him all this money was like spending only five galleons. So you let him get a bunch of stuff for your birthday.

James was pleased with himself. Giving gifts to people made him feel so good inside. He hated receiving a bunch of them though, probably because he could have whatever he wanted without question. When you reached the table you set down everything and started laughing as you took the stuff from James so he could sit down as well.

“Can you believe we both forgot our wands and we were already at Hogsmeade?”

“That’s a lot of stuff,” Sirius said.

“Yeah. I couldn’t get this one to stop so I now have a bunch of stuff. Thank Merlin I need it though.”

Lily cleared her throat. “Are you coming to the party tonight? I mean it’s your birthday after all.”

“I’m coming. No point in staying in my bed alone just because it’s my birthday.” You turned to look at James, pointing at him. “I do not need a new outfit.”

He held his hands up in surrender. For the rest of Saturday until the party, you didn’t see James at all. He and Sirius were leading quidditch drills in preparation for their upcoming game. Remus and Peter looked up when you entered their dorm. They were getting used to you just showing up. Remus was about to go back to looking at his scrapbooking project when you shoved an invitation in his face.

“To Sir Peter and Sir Remus, the girls of dorm room nine would like to invite you to our getting ready event.”

“Do you do this often?”

You nodded. “Life’s more fun this way.”

Without any hesitation, the two agreed to come with you. The girls’ dorm was arranged like theirs. But the decorations threw them for a loop. Bubbles, music, and a very sweet scent colored the air. When the marauders got ready for a party, the most they’d do is play music. This was basically a whole new world. They were pushed into fancy skincare and a scalding shower with water from the depths of hell.

“Remus, how is your hair dry already? I wish I had your porosity.”

“My what?”

Mary laughed. “Porosity. It’s just your hair type, never mind. Are we all ready to go?”

Your rather large group took your time heading down to the Slytherin dungeons. Even though you guys didn’t get along very well, Gryffindors and Slytherins were always invited to each other’s parties. The bass of the music could be heard from outside the common room. You couldn’t help but laugh at Regulus and Sirius already bickering, both with an empty cup in their hands. They had started making up but obviously it took some time and they were still brothers after all. Friendly bickering was in their dna.

You spotted James on the couch… talking to Xeno. Taking in a deep breath, you went over anyway. Your boyfriend turned his head first, smiling as you came over. The blond boy next to him was slightly stunned. Your outfit was a dress, with lots of skin exposed. You wanted to adjust but chose not to. The literal climax of your plan was happening tonight and you still wanted it to feel as real as possible. James looked good sitting on the couch and everyone noticed as they snuck glances while doing their own thing. It was the collar of a shirt peeking out under the rolled up sleeves of his quidditch jumper and the rips in his jeans. He has to do it on purpose and is aware of what he looks like.

James extended an arm and his hand fell on your waist as he pulled you closer. “Hi, bug.”

You sat on his lap and laid your head on his shoulder trying to ignore the piercing eyes from the boy you actually cared about. But you had to. Looking desperate for Xeno wasn’t the way to win him. James wrapped his arms around you while you held his drink for him, not bothering with getting one for yourself.

“What up?”

“Tired,” you said with a sigh.

“You just got here.”

That seemed to draw the attention of all your friends who were hoping you wouldn’t leave. Even if you were all doing your own thing separately, everyone still needed to be there. James covered your body as you wiggled around trying to get comfortable. Without a second thought, you pulled down the sleeves of his quidditch jumper. He laughed as he realized what you wanted.

“I know but I was up really late and I kind of have a headache now.”

“You do?” James asked in earnest.

“A bit.”

“You don’t have to stay. We can cancel all our plans tonight if you want to get some rest.”

The tone of James’ voice made you look up at him. There was no playfulness in his eyes. He was very serious about everything. You gave him a smile.

“I don’t want to cancel our plans. I’ll just take a nap here and then I’ll feel better.”

“Okay. Accio, headphones.”

James handed them to you. Music was already playing, at a very quiet volume, when you put them on. You figured they must have been connected to an enchanted music player. Adjusting yourself once more, you leaned back against your boyfriend with a smile and closed your eyes. Your friends swooned as you did so. In the middle of a loud and hectic scene, you were peaceful.

James observed his talk with Xeno, trying not to be suspicious. Every so often, he would cast his eyes down to your sleeping form. He was still interested. He wouldn’t keep looking at you if he didn’t care at all.

“Alright guys, I’ll see you back at Gryf,” James said as he got up and picked you up again. “I’m getting my lady to a bed and then we can keep the party going.”

Since the younger kids were coming back to Slytherin from Hogsmeade to start their Halloween party, the older students were going to move to Gryffindor in about twenty minutes. They waved their goodbyes to James and promised to find him right away when the party moved upstairs.

You woke up as James entered the common room and started towards the stairs back to his dorm.

“Why do we always end up like this?”

James looked down. “Hello, bug, how was your nap?”

“Delightful. And I’m now very excited.”

“Excited?”

“Yes.”

James wore a goofy grin as the two of you went inside the dorm. The two of you stood side by side in the bathroom as you brushed your teeth and freshened up. You both sat in the middle of his bed, now with an awkward silence.

“Should we lay down and just let it happen naturally? No one else uses this enchanted muggle projector so the professor just lets us keep it. There are a good amount of movies here.”

“Okay.”

You and him got comfortable on the bed, cuddling ever so slightly. James’ left hand sat just under your breast as his thumb gently caressed what was beneath it. Your hand snaked down his body and took an experimental squeeze of his pants. The movie went on without more touches until halfway through. You stiffened up before relaxing at the fingers going under the waistband of your panties. He turned your head to look at him. James watched with lust in his eyes as he watched his fingers pleasure you. It was all of five seconds before your lips crashed onto each other and you moved to the edge of the bed.

Nearly all of the sixth and seventh and dreaded eighth years moved up to the party in Gryffindor. Not seeing James right away, the others decided to go looking. Remus squeaked and everyone else peeked into the crack in the door. James’ hands squeezed your ass before moving slowly up your body until they were underneath the jumper he made you, fingers trying to undo your bra. You both laughed as he struggled a bit. Eventually, the bra was off, leaving you in just your panties and sweater.

“They’re looking. How long do you think before they close the door?” James whispered against your lips.

“I give it two more minutes. Is it just the marauders?”

“I can see Dorcas, Lily, and Xeno’s friends. The plan is going swimmingly.” He leaned back, not caring that the others could hear. “Hey, you know we don’t have to do this. It’s okay.”

You leaned back and that made James move his hands from under your jumper.

“Bug, I’m serious. I will not have sex with you unless you’re one hundred percent sure.”

“I want to. I’m just nervous.”

James chuckled. “Hey, I’m nervous too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Do you not believe me?”

“You always seem so sure of yourself.”

“Being sure of school or quidditch is a lot different from romance or sex. Let’s take it slow, okay?”

“Okay… Can I take your shirt off?”

“Yeah, love. Can I take off yours?”

You nodded. The door slammed followed by someone yelling sorry the moment James started lifting the hem of your sweater. The two of you couldn’t help but laugh. Reassuring James now that everyone was gone that you actually did want this, you continued feeling up and down each other’s upper body. He groped at your boobs, running a thumb over your nipples.

“These are gorgeous.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious. So fuckin gorgeous.”

“James,” you moaned as he took one in his mouth.

“Can I fuck you, love?”

“Absolutely.”

You scurried up onto the bed in the most undignified fashion, making James laugh. He followed suit. James groaned as he started to sink into you, pausing when your nails dug into his skin. “Are you okay?”

“It’s just hurts a bit.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No. Keep going.”

He went slower, kissing you as he did to try and distract you. When he sunk in all the way, he checked in on you again. James waited for you to open your eyes.

“We good?”

“Yeah, please move.”

Your mouth dropped open as James started pumping. He smiled in satisfaction that you were feeling just as good as him. Maybe he knew what he was doing, just a little. You whimpered his name a little as you grabbed at his biceps.

“You feel so good, Y/N. So warm and fit me just right.”

He also felt warm inside you. He shouted your name before finishing inside you. The sheets stuck to your naked and sweaty bodies as you both tried to come down for your highs. James pulled you closer until you were on top of him.

“That was amazing. I’m really glad we chose to do it with each other.”

You pecked him on the lips. “I really enjoyed it… We should probably put on clothes before everyone comes in.”

THIS TAGLIST:

@starsval @helloitsmeeeeeee @callsigndiamond @isabela30 @rachelccollier @ghostkingblake @b3t0xic @ttulipwritezz @caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @superduckmilkshake @sendnuwudes @prongsprincessworld @slightlynotslightlyobsessing @wildernessflora @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @mommymilkerfanclub @amandachrystinallc @lupinsbookshelf @harrysgoldenwatermelon @loving-and-dreaming @that-simp-sin @bubybubsters @peachesgaeass @jellyfishlioncrab @cenkisabibl @sometimeseverythingsucks @6cexey

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107 @i-have-no-life-charlie

#james potter fluff #james potter x reader #james potter fic #romance #marauders fluff #marauders fic

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night-lakmen · 3 days

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The art of writing 'confident' fictional women

Making female characters who're supposed to be 'queen bees' and/or popular comes with a great amount of misogyny and internalised competition amongst women.

• The Mary sue.

She's perfect, she's everything. While partying everyday and not studying once in the entire book, she's able to be both the magnet and the nerd who knows everything being taught in the class. All men turn to look at her, all women are envious of her beauty.

Most of such characters are described as having certain particular beauty standards. Beauty is different for different people,and attraction isn't warranted by looks. There's a stark difference between being easy on the eye and attractive.

Such characters are also shown to be either incredibly revealing in clothing in places where they shouldn't be, and are described using adjectives that make you more uncomfortable than enamoured. Most of the time they're said to be 'inspired off IT GIRLS', when being an IT girl says nothing about bringing other women down by saying how they surpass everyone around them.

• The Edgy Bombshell.

The og y/n.

Hair up in a messy bun, wearing the first thing she finds in her room she's still the most beautiful girl in school/class/the entire world. Things that are symptoms of depression become aesthetic for her, the just out of bed look being one of 'not like other girls' and not 'im suffering. Help.'

Such characters are often uplifted by adding bimbo, cheerleader chars who wear clothes/are portrayed to be more extroverted, glittery and cheery than the said character. Un necessary bullying from the girly chars and constant threats of 'you're stealing my boyfriend' ruin her day.

The only thing she needs to steal is a time table.

• The Pseudo bully.

She's not mean, she's just the girl who's honest with everyone.

Even though she's the worst person to walk on earth with the way she talks to people,somehow everyone bows to her word. Similar to the first one, she's somehow liked by everyone. Never a pore, never any body type other than hourglass, she brings her friends down by making weird jokes and putting them out as 'savage' when they're not comebacks, just actual insults.

But she's not a bully! Her behavior is entitled, she thinks she has earned the entire world because of the way she is raised or looks, but she is not a bully!

• The gangster

[I love biker women<3]

She's not like the other basic girls. She knows bikes, she knows cars. Everyone comes to her to get their stuff fixed and she has beef with every other woman in school. It isn't her fault she's one of the boys and was raised with 69 boys!

Most of the time such characters lean heavily towards type 2, having either an excess amount of terrible hygiene, humor, or towards 1.

The only time this is acceptable is when she's lesbian. I love biker women<333!!!

The art of writing fictional women has been around for ages, yet it is one people still haven't figured out yet. Much like in real life, the objectification of women and their bodies to appease the readers is prevalent among writers both male and sadly female. One woman can't be both popular and nice, for that's a sin. Kindness doesn't warrant popularity, for women are always fighting amongst each other in their mind.

Popularity is gained because of a lot of things, and most of them aren't positive things. The only time people end up liking you is if you're aware of other people: and don't put other people down to raise others. Women are much more than their bodies, their beauty, their sexuality. They can have off days, they can have many different kinds of personalities and moods depending on the situation.

The art of writing women is almost like the art of loving women, and it's safe to say that we're failing in both.

#luke castellan smut #writers #writing #writerscommunity #bimbo doll #bimbofied #barbie #percy jackon and the olympians #booklr

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alicentsecretstan · 1 day

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The topic of "Whitewashed" Green and Blacks my honest opinion.

This something that I have been thinking since watch the show, and it have been a topic discussed from both sides that I saw in the fandom.

But there is majority difference is how is done on TB and TG.

For exemple Alicent is a complete different character from the books. She is less a stereotype evil stepmom and more like a protagonist of Dostoevsky story. And we see in the show part of her book characterization showing up. Still I feel like her character is way more complex and add to the over all tragic aspect of the big narrative. And even her more controversial moment, like the infamous last scene with Viserys, it fits her character from what we see before, to have confirmation bias moment so she could do what she already deeply wished, because is part of Alicent characterization even though some aspects is contrived and I don't took away from people that found out that scene dumb. And that goes in a similar fashion to Aemond, it have base on things they already have stablish way before.

"The idea that we control dragons is an illusion " - Visery

" A dragon is not a slave". - Daenerys Targaryen

But when comes to TB whitewash it doesn't add to story and sometimes is even contradictory what they even stablish before. The most clearly exemple of this is Daemon and Rhaenyra.

The first episode of the show we have Daemon giving Rhaenyra neckless what is a nod to part of the book that heavy implied the grooming aspect of their relationship. And is very important aspect for understand his political motivations behind his actions, arguably some even could say he himself play a part on creating the family feud. It doesn't mean he doesn't have feelings for her. But in the show? Is very romantized and underplayed and is contradictory.

Daemon took her to the brothel, took her hat off exactly for everyone to see her white hair, he wanted to expose her. And then He left her there, because it was supposed the moment of " I spared you" that Daemon talks to Rhaenyra on the beach years later. Whatever it doesn't work, because at this point he already got what he wanted. Ruined her reputation so they could married. But we as the audience should see this redeeming quality.

Whatever this is small compared to Rhaenyra that in the process of making her more sympathetic and "Not like other girls" they make her incredible dumb and inconsistent.

House of the Dragon has a lot time jumps, and in between young and old transition for Young Alicent to Old Alicent is well done and make sense for her character. But Rhaenyra? Well is so hard to connect her young self and old self.

What we know about Young Rhaenyra?

She likes to ride on her dragon.

She is bold and reckless. She has "the blood of the dragon".

She have been part of the small council for a time.

She doesn't want kids.

And she even says to Alicent, she can't think of anything worse than be trap in castle giving birth to children.

And what is the first scene of old Rhaenyra? She is giving birth. There is some sad irony here if was made on porpoise. But a lot of what she was, isn't a thing anymore. A lot of her characteristics are wash out.

Alicent ask to bring her baby to her. And Rhaenyra, as political move decides to go there and take her own child. It shows how much power in a small time Alicent gain over.

What is not something she already had so much in the book. Even so, in the book is Alicent that suggested a marriage between Helaena and Jace. Because at this point in the history, Rhaenyra still holds the power.

But in the show. Even despite Rhaenyra being part of the small council longer and the legitimate heiress. She lost political power agaist Alicent.

And that has nothing to do with Rhaenyra being a woman, because Alicent as well is one, and even someone that has way less cards on the game. That is all because of the incredible bad choices she done.

First she decided to bear children outside a marital union. Generating bastards that according to the law, this is treason and only for that her and her children would be kill. And you could say she doesn't have that much choice since her husband won't sleep with her and she need to produce an heir for her lineage to continue and because of the prophecy.

Whatever how she goes on about this is what genuinely sink her down in a level of delusional. Because instead of going to summer Islands and have a baby with black man, and the only difference would be a black hair, and so what would be more on pair with the level of book suspicions about the legitimacy, she decides to try to have white children and wants to pass them off as the children of a biracial man. 😭

And she does that in front of everyone. And then she decides to leave in the worse possible moment. Doing so the greens took over.

And that is the funniest part about the Dance in the show. Because the greens, they don't create the situations that lead them to power. But actually they just explore the incompetence of the TB.

Whatever at same time we supposed to feel bad of Rhaenyra because she bled out and her humiliated herself when she started to lactation in the small council ( even though is logical because this medieval times, people don't care about this, even game of thrones we have a woman breastfeeding a boy Infront everyone).

All her acts from now on is done exclusively out desperation so the audience feel bad for her. We supposedly to see her a victim of bad propaganda and that is why her fans like her. I think this tweet make a good exemple of what I mean and how her fans see her:

Rhaenyra that once was bald and reckless act out of despair. She fake her husband death because she needs to marry Daemon because otherwise she feels powerless and lost. She begs for her father's support after being away from him for years. And then different from the books when she her sons are promised to Varyans since their childhood, she suggested a marriage out desperation.

Because that way her acts feel less part of responsibility, even though she was the one that got herself in this position.

Whatever there is a part of her character that continued since her young age. When her and Daemon stop and saw people making fun of her, she showed a lack of interest on what the small folk think of her. And in the same episode she seduce Cole to go to bad with her, even know this could cost his life. And when adult she kill a man without thinking. She doesn't care for the people she should reign over if that enters in the middle of her self interests.

She doesn't want war, and supposedly care about the prophecy, but put almost no effort to it when clashes with her own interests.

#anti team black #anti rhaenyra targaryen #pro team green #team green #pro alicent hightower #alicent hightower #ser criston cole #aemond targaryen

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divorcedwife · 3 days

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i just found your chess art and im sosososo obsessed. the characters are so cool and really embody the fighting styles of the pieces. i wish i could watch them in like a magical girl tv show

whats your inspiration/reference for your costume design? especially the more historic ones?

love your work <3

thank you, thank you so much!!

i really like fashion and history, so when im not drawing i do spend a lot of time looking at historical clothes and designers i like. i find it hard to think of what time periods/designers inspire me the most in general, but i can elaborate on my inspiration for the chess pieces!

for the queen, i was inspired by charles james, and this coat in particular. i thought the queen should wear something rigid, tailored, very structured and dramatic, and 1950s designers are always a good place to look for that. i was also inspired by this house of worth dress for the sleeves

for the knight, i was inspired by this specific dior look. i wanted to keep this one simple and clean, no frills, no sheer fabric, and let the details of the armor pieces and thigh slit shine

for the pawn, i wanted something youthful and fun, so i was thinking 1960s, mary quant in particular. a babydoll silhouette, printed tights, flat shoes, short hair :-) but with a square neckline and dramatic sleeves to look a little like the king and queen

the bishop was probably the most historically inspired - the silhouette is classic 1780s, the sleeves are from the chemise à la reine style of the 1790s. i was also thinking gothic lolita when i was drawing her. it does make sense when i think about it : using christian symbols for fashion is a classic goth move, so it's a good place to look for a bishop design. since the bishops are closest to the royals, i thought she needed to have a lot going on with her design, but more fun than the queen

the rook and king, this is where i ran out of ideas entirely lol. i will confess : the others, i drew them because i had a very clear vision of where i wanted to go, i could picture them in my head and it was just a matter of drawing and refining them. and these last two, i drew because i had designs for 4/6, so it felt strange to stop there

my only idea for the rook was to have subtle rectangles on her dress, like... bricks... cause she's a tower. this is the best thing i could think of, so things were really dire. luckily i did have the idea of giving her a gun, which is always a good way to make a design cooler

ty again for your kind words and for asking! i always love to talk about fashion :-) <3333

#valuedhater #answered

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t1oui · 8 hours

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autistic james fleamont potter headcanons

high masking

worries a lot about being "too much" for people

likes being outside to calm himself down, especially when he's getting overwhelmed

deeply empathetic, especially with people he knows well, but unsure how to comfort people even if he was the one to ask them if they're okay

uncomfortable if he's not in constant motion but scared to stim around people he doesn't know well (for years the only people he's comfortable enough around other than his parents are the other marauders + lily)

has a pile of fluffy blankets he brought from home on his bed because the soft texture calms him down. he likes being wrapped up in it

his special interest is marine biology

after he becomes friends with regulus & the skittles he often sits in their common room to look out the windows into the black lake (he becomes friends with the selkies)

for his birthday in his second year, lily gave james a pair of muggle noise cancelling headphones because she noticed he got overwhelmed in loud places sometimes. this is when he becomes more comfortable not masking around her

gets told "you don't look/act autistic" a lot when he tells people. he laughs it off but it always feels like a punch to the gut

the only people allowed to touch him when he's overwhelmed are mary and lily, they just run their fingers through his hair (which helps ground him)

sometimes has trouble telling if people are joking and takes them seriously, which has caused him to be teased on multiple occasions

hates when people stand up for him after he's teased (he'd rather stand up for himself) but never says so because he's scared of seeming ungrateful (mary knows anyway)

his favorite feeling is curling up with regulus and a fluffy blanket after he's tired himself out talking about his special interest <3 (regulus thinks it's adorable)

90% of his shirts have sea creatures on them. one of his favorites is a shirt with a turtle on it that peter gave him for his 16th birthday

his favorite animals are sea turtles and octopi, he would love my octopus teacher

if i have more i'll add them later :)

#hp fandom #harry potter fandom #hp #marauders era #james potter #jegulus #lily evans #mary macdonald #mwpp #autistic james potter #autism #neurodiversity

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sailforvalinor · 1 year

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Who doesn't like Edmund??????? HOW can they not like Edmund?????????? He's the best of the Bertrums!!!!

Well, to be fair, being the best of the Bertrams is not too difficult, lol.

But yes, a LOT of people dislike Edmund, like, probably the majority of the Austen community. I agree!!! It’s so frustrating!!!

Like, Darcy insulted Elizabeth’s family to her face and actively separated her sister from the man she loved, Captain Wentworth ignored Anne’s existence and courted other girls in front of her on purpose, Edward was engaged to another woman while courting Elinor, and we give them passes, but we come down so hard on Edmund for *checks notes* letting Mary ride on Fanny’s horse for too long.

Yes yes, obviously there was more to that incident, but the point still stands—Edmund has committed far less grievous mistakes than most Austen heroes, but he’s the most hated. Why is this??

There’s a couple reasons for this, I think: we never get to see him actually in love with Fanny, and, unlike most Austen heroes, he never gets to perform any sort of grand gesture to make amends for his mistakes. We know that he does fall in love with Fanny and that these amends must have been made (especially seeing how quick he is to apologize to Fanny when he realizes he's been neglecting her in other places in the novel), but Austen deliberately chooses to narrate these events without actually giving them to us directly. Admittedly, this frustrates me, but I understand why: Mansfield Park is not a love story. There is a romance in the story, but that isn't what the narrative is fundamentally concerned with--the narrative is fundamentally concerned with Fanny's development and strength of character independent of (you might even say in spite of) the other characters in the novel. Unlike Pride and Prejudice or Emma, Fanny's character development is not incited by the actions of the hero (which, to be clear, I don't have any issue with--Mansfield Park just has a different narrative formula). Fanny overall is what you might call a static character--not in the sense that she is not fleshed-out or well-developed, but in that she does not go through a lot of character change. Rather, instead of her arc being about changing to become a better person, her arc is about her struggle to remain the good person that she is in spite of outside pressure to change to become more like the rest of the world. (For a really good example of a static character arc, look no further than Captain America!) It's not that Fanny doesn't go through any character growth whatsoever, she definitely does, but this growth overall roots her more deeply into what she believed before, rather than inciting change. The more I think about it, actually, the more it seems like Mansfield Park is a typical "Austen" story told from the perspective of the love interest.

It is actually Edmund who goes through the more dynamic character arc that we associate with most protagonists--which is why I've been thinking for ages that a retelling of Mansfield Park from his perspective could be REALLY interesting. Because told from his perspective, Mansfield Park undoubtedly becomes a love story where it did not hold that status previously. And Edmund would make such a great protagonist!!! There is SO MUCH about his character that I find absolutely fascinating. He of course has a very strong moral compass, which is something I've always admired him for, and despite his attraction to Mary and delusion about her character, is never once even tempted to change his profession from a clergyman to earn Mary's love. We really don't give Edmund enough credit for coming out so well-adjusted and morally upright as he did, coming from a family like the Bertram's. He is also fundamentally very kind, but what's so interesting about him is that he is not, though he certainly tries, always the most attentive. He certainly never neglects Fanny on purpose and is horrified when he finds out that he has, but the fact still remains that he is not the most emotionally perceptive (I'm actually very tempted to draw some parallels between him and Catherine Morland here). Edmund possesses a lot of book-smarts, but is somewhat lacking in social intelligence--or, for lack of a better term, street-smarts. I don't know what textual evidence there is to support this, but I've always had the impression that up until the beginning of the novel, Edmund hadn't had much experience mingling in society, given how as soon as he finished college he was brought straight home to manage Sir Bertram's estate while he was away in Antigua. Regardless of whether or not this is actually the case, it's clear that Edmund is a terrible judge of character despite how morally upright he himself is, which is absolutely fascinating to me. (Again! Catherine parallels!!) Fanny makes a direct contrast to Edmund in this regard--she does not possess the same book knowledge or have the advantage of the education that he had, but she is, though unconsciously, the most emotionally intelligent person in the room and the best judge of character in the entire book.

It is this contrast, but with their shared beliefs about the world and what is right and good, that cements my belief in how well-suited they are for each other. Edmund does not challenge Fanny to change, but Fanny's steadfastness of character does motivate Edmund to change--when he realizes that she perceived what sort of person Henry Crawford was all along and that she was right to refuse him, it exposes to him just how blind he is to the character of others. Edmund basically goes through the same sort of arc that Austen's heroines go through, but this time the roles have been reversed! IT'S JUST SO COOL

Anyway, sorry for rambling. TL;DR, I'm not going to try to convince you that Edmund Bertram is on the same level as Mr. Knightley or Mr. Tilney, but PLEASE examine him critically before you write him off as trash, because he really isn't.

#blorbo from my regency novels #sorry this took so long i wanted to be able to give a full reply #i held myself back from giving my take on the edmund x mary shippers because that would've been a LOT #but suffice it to say i hate it given how much mary fundamentally disrespects his profession and therefore his goals in life #could she have changed her mind someday? maybe but it would take a lot of work #fanny is better for him in the end because their beliefs about the world are so aligned and she actually respects him as a person #which is. you know. why she's the one he ended up with #(also i feel like people would be MUCH more offended by her attacking ed's chosen profession if it were literally anything other than him #going into the clergy. just saying)#mansfield park #edmund bertram #fanny price #jane austen #edmund bertram defense squad

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