#but at the cost of his wife disappearing into herself. so it's not even a win.

[tethrras]

i have not even begun to process how lavinia is feeling and instead i am thinking about hilda and alistair going to weisshaupt after adamant and hilda saying they're just gonna stay for a bit before heading out to work with the inquisition and then it's been a year and then two years and beth and nathaniel are back at vigil's keep but hilda can't bring herself to go back when the whole order is at best a laughingstock and at worst an enemy in ferelden and her and alistair build a home in weisshaupt that neither of them really want and. Augh.

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (23/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, unprotected sex, targcest stuff, smut, the angst, nightmares, speaking about trauma ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

That night he slept vigilantly – he was awakened by her every movement, her uneven breath, the creak of the bed beneath her body. He held her close and did not let her out of his embrace fearing that again, led by some dark, cruel dream, she would try to do what he had witnessed.

It was only when he saw her standing over the edge of the precipice that he understood what her disappearance would mean: that with her he would lose the part of himself that she had managed to reawaken.

He tried, he made an effort, he changed for her, because he knew that she would see it, that she would appreciate it, that she would tell him, as she always did, that she understood him.

She was the first person to praise him out loud – there was something humbling about how much he craved it, whether from his mother's, his father's, Aegon's, Sylvi's or Criston's lips.

Everyone he had somehow allowed to cross the line and know some part of himself.

However, it was only she who was able to do it in the way he needed – not pitying him, not treating him like a child, but simply trying to comprehend what he was facing, why some things were difficult for him while others were groundbreaking.

He realised that she never demanded anything of him: she never asked him to marry her, she never asked him to send her home, she never asked him to become more open.

She always waited patiently, with a strange, partly incomprehensible understanding, showing him that it was simply his nature.

With her, he stopped being ashamed of himself: of who he was and who he wasn't, what he lacked, what he had lost, what mistakes he had made.

Because of her, he forgave himself.

He had found peace.

And now, that peace was about to disappear with her.

He swallowed hard at the mere memory and snuggled her tighter into him, embracing her more firmly in his arms. He heard her quiet mutter, her fingers tightening on the material of his shirt, her cheek pressed against his chest.

His thoughts fled to what she had said, to what she had seen in her dream – him with another woman, his betrayal, the greatest humiliation she could have experienced on his part as his wife.

He could not comprehend why she thought he could fail her trust in this way, break the oath he had taken before the gods themselves, hurt her while she was helping him heal his wounds.

Even if she were only his lover, he wouldn't want another – he would not be able to open himself up again, to allow someone into his heart and mind, much less at the cost of losing her.

You are my only friend.

And you are mine, he thought, stroking her hair slowly, exactly as she had asked him to do.

She combined everything he wanted, allowing him to take care of herself so that he could feel like a man, while at the same time caring for him, giving him space, so that sometimes, but only sometimes, when he felt weak, he could become a little boy in her arms.

There was something liberating in that thought – in the conviction that his grandfather was right, and that his affection for her could slowly blossom, giving him more strength every day.

He wanted her to be sure of his fidelity and devotion, just as he was sure of hers.

He knew that this alone would give her peace of mind.

To his satisfaction, she stopped pretending not to see him – when she asked him early in the morning if he would help her with her bath and be by her side, he immediately agreed.

He would never have thought he would so willingly step into the role of a servant of sorts – while she sat in the bath in her nightgown, sunk up to her chin in warm water full of fragrant oils, he gently rubbed her arms and hands with a damp cloth.

There was something intimate about this moment, some attempt of reconciliation, of staying together despite all that had happened.

He didn't tell her about what went on behind closed doors – he didn't tell her that his grandfather was delighted with what she had accomplished, that he, Criston and Gwayne were planning to conquer the Eyrie before Rhaenyra could recover from another loss and move on them.

Deprived of Daemon and Rhaenys, she was like a lion without fangs and claws – even new dragon riders could not replace the experience and bond they had with Caraxes and Meleys.

Otto felt, and he agreed, that the kingdom should hear that it was he, not his wife, who had killed Daemon – this was not to give him credit for it, although it certainly helped him as Prince Regent, but above all – in his eyes – it was to protect her from accusations that would be damaging to her.

Namely, that she was a kinslayer.

Word that she had killed her father, committing, like him, a sin unkind to the gods would spread like the wind, preventing her from getting rid of the remorse that was already overwhelming her.

He preferred everyone to think it was he who had killed his uncle.

He was already cursed in the eyes of others anyway, so what he had done would no longer matter.

Daemon's death raised the morale of the army: his soldiers celebrated all the next day after he announced the news. He guessed that his wife heard them, grieving, but he could not forbid them from doing so; he stood between the hammer and the anvil.

To his satisfaction, it turned out that both Cole and Gwayne were men showing enough sensitivity to understand his wife's condition: her help was still needed by them, but it was clear that forcing her to do anything would turn against them.

They had to wait patiently for her to return to balance, in the meantime planning every next step.

The fact that she was carrying his child pleased him, but it also made things even more complicated.

No one but him, Maester and her knew about it.

"I remember more and more. From the time I was a child." Her voice snapped him out of his reverie.

He looked at her, her face flushed from the warm steam that floated around them, her long, dark hair tied back to keep it from getting wet.

He sighed quietly, his thumb running over the moist skin of her wrist.

"And what do you see?" He asked, though he guessed what her answer would be.

"My father. The way my mother spoke to him and about him. She told me once…" she muttered and fell silent, lowering her gaze as if ashamed and heartbroken, her eyebrows arched in pain.

"… she said something that I think was the source of my age-old resentment towards your lineage. She said that the Targaryens have strange customs. That fathers take their daughters to their bed. I think that's why I repressed all my memories of my father embracing me, touching me, kissing me on the forehead. The thought that he wasn't doing it out of fatherly love, but out of sick, disgusting lust, terrified me. She destroyed his image in my eyes because she hated him herself. But now that I think about it, he never touched me in a wrong way. He never even tried."

She whispered, finally looking up at him, as if begging him to confirm her words, to tell her that she was right even though he had not witnessed the events.

He swallowed hard, realising that he often forgot that what his family had been doing for generations was ordinary only for them, but not for people from the outside.

"Marriages in our family happen between relatives, but never between parents and children or grandparents and grandchildren. That would be unacceptable." He replied calmly.

Her fingers clenched on his hand, as if she was wordlessly trying to convey to him that she needed him now more than ever.

"But after all, there were rumours of my father taking Rhaenyra, his niece, to a brothel long before she became his wife. She was still a little girl then." She muttered in a breaking voice.

He lowered his gaze, not knowing what he should reply to these words.

"I've heard about it too, but as you say, it's gossip. I didn't hold any love for him, but I can't say with certainty if or what he did to her at the time. I'm no saint myself." He confessed, finally looking up at her.

She blinked, staring at him with surprise bordering on horror, as if his confession frightened her.

"What do you mean?"

He felt his jaw clench in an unpleasant shudder of discomfort at the thought of what he had done to her.

"I have used you. I did it deliberately for months."

He fell silent, unable to look into her eyes – it was only when he said the words aloud that it occurred to him what he had actually done to her.

"You didn't force me. I agreed to it." She whispered.

"Did you?" He asked, looking at her finally. "Do you think my pride would have endured your refusal, your rejection? That I wouldn't do anything to you?"

She swallowed loudly, looking at him with some kind of worry – her lips pursed into a thin line as she took his hand in hers.

"And you? Do you think I really had any desire to lose my maidenhood with some servant? That I didn't want you to take his place? I didn't know you, nor did you know me. For a long time it was a game, yours and mine. But at some point I no longer knew what was a lie and what was the truth. I began to miss you by day and looked forward to falling asleep in your arms at night. The more I got to know you, the more I longed to stay by your side."

He didn't know why his lower lip was quivering, why he felt a burning wetness under his eyelid, why his throat was squeezed with emotion.

What he couldn't comprehend was the ease with which she was able to understand him and his decisions, as if it didn't require any effort on her part – the knowledge that she never resented him, that she was partially aware of what he was doing and consented to it made him think that perhaps it had to be that way.

That it was somehow their joint decision.

A shared effort to understand who they were, what they craved and why they kept returning to each other.

"I ask you to forgive me." He whispered, clasping his fingers over hers, feeling his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

Forgive me for who I was when you met me.

Who I still am when you are not by my side.

"I too ask for your forgiveness." She replied softly, making him feel a pleasant warmth spread across his chest.

The reciprocation.

"I forgive you." He said.

"I forgive you too." She replied and smiled lightly, sincerely, for the first time since those events.

She shifted towards him with a quiet splash of water, and he did the same – he sighed with some kind of relief when her face pressed against his cheek, when her scent filled his lungs, when her full lips placed a warm, wet, tender kiss on his hot skin.

He closed his eye, focusing on that pleasurable touch, his fingers involuntarily stroking her hair, her neck, her jaw, his words against her ear like a whisper.

"I regret that I didn't meet you sooner. That it wasn't the warmth of your body, the moisture of your lips that I experienced for the first time as a young boy. That our fathers did not betroth us the day you came into this world." He spoke quietly, tracing the tip of his nose over the soft, smooth structure of her plump, pink cheek.

He felt her hands tighten on his tunic, her breath caught in her throat as her thighs involuntarily clenched under the water.

His erection pulsed hard in his breeches.

It seemed to him that ages passed before her face slowly turned towards him, before her lips found his, teasing him merely, not giving him full kisses, but only a foreshadowing, an encouragement, a promise of what he wanted so badly.

He pressed her against his body, unable to contain himself, sinking greedily into her soft, wet flesh – his hand clenched in her hair, preventing her from escaping his slick tongue as it burst deep into her throat.

She moaned into his mouth and it was one of the sweetest sounds she'd ever made – he involuntarily smiled, feeling lighter as her arms embraced his neck, as her lips parted, allowing him to continue.

They had never kissed like this before – so slowly, lazily, as if they had all the time in the world. They concentrated on making their lips unite completely, the quiet clicks of their saliva accompanying their every flick. His fingers stroked the skin of her face, her neck and her hair more gently than ever before, as if any sudden movement on his part might suddenly startle her.

"– I miss you – in every way –" He breathed out between one kiss and the next, embarrassed by his desperate confession, which he would not have dared to make in the presence of any other woman.

He knew, however, that she would not mock him.

That she would understand him.

She sighed, pressing her forehead against his, her knuckles running over the line of his jaw.

"– I miss you too –"

Her body beneath him was wet and warm. It seemed to him that they were two parts of one whole – before he did what he so desperately craved, he simply admired the way she looked.

He marvelled at how her breasts had begun to change – through the baby in her womb they had become fuller, plumper, like a ripe fruit.

He leaned over her bare skin, placing wet, lazy kisses around her nipple, finally closing his lips around it. She moaned as he began to tease it with the tip of his tongue, swirling it around the sensitive spot – he knew she loved it when he did that – her hands always pressed him closer to her chest, exactly like now, asking for more.

His hand slid slowly down her waist, to her hip, finally finding its way between her thighs. The tips of his fingers ran over her silky womanhood, collecting the moisture that had managed to leak out of her, merely brushing her hot skin. He felt her body shudder as her legs involuntarily spread wider, consenting to whatever he wanted to give her.

For some reason, he felt as if this was their first time – perhaps because they were completely different people than when he had taken her to his bed.

She remained his prisoner, and he had complete power over her, treating her body as something that belonged to him for the sake of a strict, eternal law, the essence of a woman as one who could not oppose a man.

This time, however, feeling the skin of her soft breasts melt under his lips, sinking his fingers into her sticky, fleshy folds, running them around her little bud, he felt like a young boy exploring a woman's body for the first time.

There was something reassuring about the way she just let him do it, combing through his long, white hair with her fingers, breathing softly, clearly taking pleasure in how slow and precise his caresses were.

Now, lying beneath him, she was truly his little sister, his future wife, betrothed to him from the day she was born, created to be only his.

There was something beautiful about this vision, he thought as his middle finger pushed against her tight, throbbing entrance – she gasped, clenching her fingers against his naked back, but neither she nor her body offered him any resistance.

"– lēkia – I want you inside me –" She mumbled with difficulty, as if ashamed and bitter that she wanted this so badly, that, although she wanted to prolong this state of sweet tension, she was unable to hold out any longer.

His long-fully hard manhood twitched and pressed against her thigh, expressing his irresistible desire to do exactly what she asked.

He released her nipple from between his lips with a quiet click, lifting his face higher, placing a warm, loud kiss on her cheek – he felt her fingers run over his jaw, neck and chest as he grasped his erection in his palm and directed it to her slit. They both sighed when they felt the closeness of their bodies as, with a slow, patient movement of his hips, he opened her for himself and froze in this position.

Her insides were moist and warm, exactly as he remembered – his forehead pressed against hers as they embraced each other tightly, her breasts clinging to his torso in sudden need of closeness.

For a moment he simply looked at her, breathing loudly along with her.

They both sighed with a low, surprised moan as he involuntarily stretched her fleshy walls wider on his erection, sinking deeper into her – her hands slid down from his bare back to his buttocks, stroking them in some comforting, tender gesture.

I love you, he thought, placing a hot, moist kisses on her plump lips, letting his entire manhood deep inside her body – the experience was a kind of epiphany, something from which there was no turning back.

She sighed softly into his throat, reciprocating the lazy, sweet caresses of his lips as he began to sink into her with tentative, light thrusts, again and again disappearing into the familiar, the good, the safe.

They embraced tighter, looking directly into each other's eyes and it was the most intimate thing he had ever experienced – he usually avoided a woman's gaze, even hers, afraid of what he would see in it.

Sadness as in his mother's eyes, compassion as in Sylvi's, sorrow as in Helaena's.

However, his hāedar's eyes told him something different – in her gaze he saw pain, loss, longing, pleading, all that he felt deep inside himself.

They both moaned, panting louder and louder as her hips began to sway to the rhythm of his thrusts, reaching out to join him again.

"– you're so warm –" He exhaled wearily, ashamed to hear his voice break.

He wasn't sure why he'd said it – he wanted to say so many other things right now, but he couldn't.

These words seemed natural to him, sincere, coming from the depths of his heart – the outside world was cruel, vicious, cold, and her body was full of warmth, softness, smooth as silk.

They embraced closer and snuggled into each other, stroking each other's hair and faces, kissing slowly and unhurriedly, deeply, tenderly, in a way that deep down he had dreamed of.

He wasn't sure if he was usually a rough, sometimes even harsh lover because he wanted to, or because it gave him confidence, allowing him to keep his face and dignity.

There's more dignity in this, he thought, speeding up his movements, letting their bodies slam against each other loud and fast with sticky splats of their naked skin, listening to their grunts and sighs filled with pleasure.

For some reason he felt more like a human, more like a man, more like himself than he ever had, with his long hair loose falling over her face, without an eye patch covering his eye, completely bare not only with his body, but also with his mind.

He showed her what he hadn't even shown Sylvi.

He showed her that he was capable of affection, capable of longing, capable of suffering because of another person.

He was weak.

But by her side it didn't matter.

Her nails dug into the skin of his back as she inevitably neared her peak, tears of relief ran down her face, a quiet, girlish cry of delight broke from her lips as the sweet convulsion of fulfilment shook her body.

She was beautiful in her vulnerability.

"– hāedar –" He gasped out – his fingers clamped down on the sheet as he groaned low, clenching his eyelids, finally coming inside her, feeling the sudden, wonderful shivers surging through his body, the sweet pulsing in his erection, which at last experienced release.

He sighed loudly as he simply lay on top of her, careful, however, not to crush her with the weight of his body – they embraced with their arms and continued like this, breathing heavily in the silence of the chamber.

He closed his eyes when he felt her lips place a warm, tender kiss on the top of his head and involuntarily smiled, feeling like a little boy again.

At last, after so many years of anguish, he was truly loved by someone.

[captainremmington-13]

A Lady Made of Snow

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, the images above, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova. I also do not condone the beliefs or actions of Coriolanus or Bellova.

SUMMARY: Coriolanus’s academic and professional life is blossoming. But his wife continues to be his biggest obstacle.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: THIS IS A DARK CHAPTER. It contains violence, verbal/physical abuse/, mention of murderous intent, Coriolanus being horrible, HEAVY ALLUSIONS TO SEX, NONCON, swearing

A/n: IM ALIVE YIPPEE i’m so sorry for disappearing i went on a trip and i was also facing MAJOR writers block but i’m back!!!

“Congratulations once again, Mister Snow. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow on your first day as an official Gamemaker.”

Beaming, Coriolanus shook Dr Gaul’s hand and quickly exited the office. He was elated, relieved that he’d finally received the promotion he’d worked so tirelessly for.  

Finally, he’d be able to make some real change. Sure, it meant more office hours, but it was more than worth it.

As he rode home, Coriolanus was already brainstorming ideas to bring to the meeting the following morning. He knew he needed to immediately prove he was worthy of the position, despite having worked with the other Gamemakers for almost a year. 

When he arrived inside the Reginelle estate, he took off his coat and practically shoved it into an Avox’s arms. He ordered her to get him a glass of red wine, and to bring it to his Bellova’s. Nodding quickly, she did as she was told, and he relished in the obvious nervousness in her body language. 

Now that he was officially the man of the house, he held a significant amount of power over every matter revolving the Reginelle fortune and property. In most ways, he had more power than Bellova herself.

Which was extremely satisfying. 

Pushing open the bedroom doors, he immediately spotted his wife sitting at her vanity, brushing her hair slowly. Her movements seemed robotic, which wasn’t out of the ordinary. When she was under the serum’s influence, she was obviously not functioning as a normal human would. 

But somehow, nobody noticed. Or at least, they attributed it to her lingering grief, not to any unnatural cause. 

Bellova looked over her shoulder, and smiled at Coriolanus. “Hello there, handsome. I missed you.” 

Coriolanus didn’t return her smile. “I’m sure you did.”

His fingers worked quickly to undo the buttons of his dress shirt. Though he wanted to change into his sleeping clothes as soon as possible, he was still careful to preserve it’s condition. After all, it had cost at least a couple hundred dollars.

As soon as he slipped on his silk robe, he spoke again.

“I had a meeting with Dr. Gaul today.”

Coriolanus barely suppressed a grin when Bellova’s eyes widened in fear at the mention of the Head Gamemaker. 

“W-What about?” she asked softly, setting down her brush. 

“She promoted me. I’m now officially a Gamemaker.”

Bellova breathed a sigh of relief. “Congratulations, my love,” she said gently, walking over to him. “I’m very proud of you.”

She looked so vulnerable, the dim light of the room casting an angelic glow across her face. She was clad only in a cream white nightdress, the fabric tantalizingly translucent. Though he despised her, it he still found her body to be irresistible.

Coriolanus sat down on the edge of the bed, and pulled Bellova into his lap. She immediately curled up against him, the romantic gesture making him cringe. Her clinginess always irritated him, and he would reprimand her often so she would behave at least decently in public. However, when they were in private, it took even more effort to keep her hands off of him. 

But he supposed that using her desperation for his own pleasure wouldn’t hurt.

Coriolanus lifted Bellova off of his thighs and let her fall backwards onto the bed. She giggled, blushing like a schoolgirl. She truly was enamored with him. 

“You’re so pretty, Coryo,” she simpered, reaching up to cup his face with one hand. He didn’t reply, simply pushing the straps of her dress off of her shoulders. 

Just as he let the fabric slip past her chest, Bellova let out a pained cry.

Coriolanus snarled in frustration. He was so close to letting out all of his pent-up feelings out, but now, he had to deal with the real Bellova. 

He didn’t move from his position over her as he reached into his back pocket for the serum. He watched, almost bored, as she writhed beneath him, her eyes squeezed shut.

As soon as Bellova stopped twitching and her eyes opened again, a smile spread across his face. It was cruel, the immense enjoyment he got from her fear and helplessness.

But he didn’t give a fuck. It was what she deserved. 

Bellova’s lips immediately curled into a sneer. 

“Get your hands off of me.” 

Coriolanus rolled his eyes and didn’t respond. He tugged her nightgown off of her body, making her gasp and shudder. One of her hands shot upwards, but he grabbed her wrist before she could grab his throat. 

“Say whatever you want to say now, you feral bitch, before I put you back under.” 

“You’re calling me feral, and yet you’re the one who’s desperate to fuck me.” Bellova’s smirk was infuriating, but Coriolanus refused to give her the satisfaction of a visible reaction from him.  

“You’re a pathetic man, Coriolanus,” she spat, her voice shaking with pure hatred. “One day, I swear, I will make you pay for everything you’ve done. You’ll regret that you were ever fucking born.”

Coriolanus threw back his head as he laughed, and gripped her left shoulder so tightly that he was sure it would leave a mark. The needle of the syringe was a mere inch from her neck, threatening to puncture her at any moment. 

“You don’t scare me anymore, Bellova.”

Bellova averted her gaze from the needle, and her piercing grey eyes cut into his with a burning intensity. When she spoke, she sounded exactly like her old self: confident, vengeful, and wickedly intelligent.

“Good. That’ll make you much easier to kill.”

As the needle pierced her skin and Bellova let out a scream, Coriolanus’s stomach churned unpleasantly. 

It was harmless threat, he was sure of it. 

But it still shook him to his core.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Within a month of working as a Gamemaker, Coriolanus had established himself as one of the sharpest young minds in the Capitol. 

The combination of his effortless charm and impressive intellect had made him instantly popular. Hardly anyone remembered the incident that occurred regarding him and the 10th Hunger Games. He had buried that as deep as possible, and covered it by establishing his reputation as the bright, young Gamemaker who was destined to succeed. 

His University life was also flourishing. He had a great report with all of his instructors, and was well-liked amongst other students. His grades were stellar, as he knew they would be, and put him on the path to graduate at the top of his class.

The only challenge he faced was dealing with his wife. 

Though the serum was still effective, it continued to wear off during the evening. Bellova would scream and yell as loudly as she could, cursing at him and occasionally pleasing for someone to help her. Luckily for him, Coriolanus had smoothly lied to everyone working in the Reginelle estate, saying that her cries were a result of a mental disorder she’d developed from intense grief. 

He knew they were all too scared of him to question it.

However, as more time passed, the enjoyment he felt from seeing her distress diminished. It simply became irritating, and he no longer got pleasure from seeing her suffer mentally.

So he decided it was time to tame the beast that was Bellova Reginelle once and for all.

It didn’t take long for him to convince Dr. Gaul to begin working on a stronger serum: one that contained effects that would subdue his wife for the rest of her days. She understood the importance of eliminating threats. After all, she’d encouraged him to continue his practice of poisoning his opponents.

The serum would take at least two weeks to develop. Dr. Gaul insisted that she needed adequate time to test it, and ensure that it worked exactly as intended. 

“No mishaps this time,” she had said with bone-chilling determination. “Your bride will never be a bother to you again.”

So Coriolanus had to accept the fact that Bellova would fight tooth-and-nail for her freedom for several more nights.

But he would never let her have it. 

His career was just beginning. He could not let the citizens of the Capitol discover that he was deeply involved in corruption and scandalous acts. It would ruin him before he truly began to climb the social ladder. 

After all, Snow was destined to land on top. 

And in his case, getting to the “top” only meant one thing:

becoming the president of Panem. 

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊❆ ‧

TAGLIST: @daenerysqueenofhearts, @squidscottjeans, @euphemiaamillais, @gracieroxzy, @effectwalker, @vxnilla-hxrddrugs, @mystargirl-interlude

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments! Again, I am so sorry for disappearing. I promise to try to write more consistently going forward <3

Also, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! (I had to add some of y’all to a comment instead becuz tumblr won’t let me tag more people for some reason☹️)

[lexa-griffins]

Had dinner with my neighbors and as I learned their story I was like LG would write clexa like this lol. He is at least 15 years older than her and started seeing eachother as his divorce was going through but then things happen and he and his 2 young kids have to move out of the house and the market is crazy and there's nowhere to go so she's like you can move in with me! Even tho all her friends are like girl no and '"you've known him for less than a month, he has kids! and your place is so tiny what the hell and you are young 20s and he's pushing 40." But they do and it works and they're still together and married now. Idk I can see clexa in them lol

🥹🥹🥹 oh it definitely screams clexa!!! Also like... dilf!clarke ya know 🤭

Maybe they're co-workers. Same company, different departments. Lexa is a new hire, and her and Clarke start chatting while Clarke is still married, but it is obvious her marriage is on the rocks. Her wife has basically checked out of the marriage and the children, and Clarke is bracing herself for it and being their 2 small children's rocks.

And Lexa, she definitely has a crush. She felt awful at first, knowing Clarke was married and had kids but quickly she learns about Clarke's situation and tries to be there as a friendly shoulder without any second intentions.

The divorce moves forward slowly given everything they have to divide and Clarke is so grateful to have Lexa by her side. Love had long since disappeared in her marriage, after their second kid what Clarke thought was post partum depression in her wife turned into complete lack of care towards the kids and Clarke herself and they just never went back to how it was. Clarke herslef wasn't even sure she wanted children but her ex insisted and now they are getting divorced and she is being left with two small children to take care off and the house is being ordered to be sold. And through it all Lexa is by her side. She entertains the kids and offers to babysit, she brings Clarke dinner when she is too tired to even order take out and she holds Clarke as she cries in her lap about her life falling apart.

It is definitely blurry when they jump the line from friends to officially seeing each other but it happens faster than they both imagined. Of course the age difference concerns Clarke a bit but Lexa seems to have a good head on her shoulders and makes Clarke feel happier and lighter with just a smile. Lexa also really enjoys spending time with the kids, two little boys who adore their mom and that have become obsessed with Leksa.

They've been together for the whole of 2 months when Clarke realizes they have to get out of the house and find somewhere to live. Now Clarke earns well but not "buy a house outright" well. And with the costs of divorce and having the kids full-time it is not an easy feat. She is ranting about this with Lexa when her girlfriend looks at her and just shrugs "you can just move in".

And Clarke is staring at her perplexed because Lexa's apartment is... small. A two bedroom, sure, but one of them of her home office and Clarke doesn't want to have her transform it into a kids bedroom.... not that her refusal at first (and her friends calling her insane) changes anything in Lexa's offer and by the time the divorce has a court date, the kids' bedroom is fully decorated and Clarke clothes have takem residence in Lexa's wardrobe.

They quickly fall into a routine. Clarke tries to make sure nothing related to the boys fall onto Lexa's lap but she insists. She takes them places and helps them in the morning. Makes their favorite lunches to take to pre-school. And Lexa really really loves it. She loves Clarke and she loves these two little boys. And everyday it cements more and more she made the right choice asking Clarke to move in.

A year later, they are looking at houses to buy together. There is an engagement ring on Lexa's finger. The boys are the flower boy and ring bearer and Lexa makes sure to add them in her vows, how excited she is to be their third mom and watch them grow. Clarke cries hard during those. Four months later they are decorating a nursery, the two little boys demanding Lexa to sit down if she dares to lift something too heavy at all. This time Clarke feels included in everything baby related unlike her ex who would not even tell Clarke she had an appoitment, leaving Clarke to only see the baby for the first time at nearly 6 months.

It was a leap of faith really. It was the first time Lexa looked at a decision and chose her heart above her head and it worked. She is the mother if two sweet little boys with a third baby on the way. She has the most wonderful wife who cares perhaps too much about everything that concerns her. And Clarke feels loved and wanted, her boys are loved too. She never expected her life to take a turn quite like this the day her ex asked for a divorce.

[santiago-cavazos]

“Change of plans…we use the girl to get to him.”

The heavily tattooed woman sitting in the passenger seat was rambling on, smacking her gum loudly while she spoke. “Anyways, like I was sayin’, I told that bitch Tito that if he didn’t stop fuckin’ around on me, I was gonna bust a cap in his ass,” Carmen explained, leaning back into the seat, her head propped up on the arm she had resting on the door.

There was a tick in Santiago’s jaw as he glanced over at the woman. “Loyalty is everything,” said Santiago, looking away shortly after so he could text his wife back.

Parked down the street from Locke Studios, the pair were biding their time until the shop closed for the day.

“So you’re gonna be my new boss, huh? What should I call you? Patron, jefe, boss?” asked Carmen, smirking and eyeing Santiago, giving him a wink.

“Carmen, you’re not in yet and if you don’t do your fucking job, your chances of getting in drop to zero,” he warned, clenching his jaw.

The woman raised her hands in surrender, shaking her head as she turned her attention back to the shop. “Aight, patron. I was just sayin’. It’s kinda hard to pay attention to what I’m supposed to be doin’ when I got your fine ass sittin’ right next to me. Ya feel me?” Carmen explained with a shrug.

The movement was so quick, Carmen had no chance to defend herself. Santiago’s hand wrapped around the woman’s thick, black hair, yanking her back hard. He leaned in as she struggled to remove his hands from her hair.

“The only reason why you’re here is because Deucalion felt like you deserved a chance to prove yourself. One more fucking word out of your mouth that isn’t about what you’re here for and it’s the end of the line for you,” Santiago warned. “DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND?!”

The hold on her was so tight, she was unable to nod though she tried.

“Yes, I fucking understand,” spat the woman in anger, knowing she had been disarmed before entering the vehicle. There was nothing she could do except submit.

Santiago released her, massaging his knuckles while his jaw remained clenched. Carmen didn’t look at him nor did she attempt to fix her hair. All she did was stare out the window.

An hour later, she snapped her gum loudly and turned to face Santiago. “She’s alone. The last person just left,” she stated, folding her arms across her chest.

Santiago pulled the keys out of the ignition, opening the door and sliding the handgun into the waistband of his pants. “Stay here,” he warned her, slamming the vehicle’s door shut.

He had been patient, watching her for weeks. Tonight was it. The night he would threaten the blonde owner of Locke Studios.

Walking down the sidewalk towards Locke Studios, he watched as the blonde emerged to lock up for the night. However, she wasn’t alone. Stepping out after her and onto the sidewalk was a heavily tattooed man. His pulled the shop door behind him before standing behind the blonde, his hand placed on her lower back. Fuck.

Santiago retreated immediately, slipping back into the vehicle before he was noticed by the couple. Had Carmen set him up? Did she make a mistake or did she know someone was in there with his target? Either way, the mistake could have cost him everything.

Just as Santiago was about to start yelling at Carmen, she held her hands up. “Patron! That guy…I’ve seen him. He’s the fucking bastard who fucked me over. He’s in West Side Crew and he’s important, I just know it. He told their gang leader what to do. What kind of member has that much power over the leader?”

His eyes snapped up to look towards the barbershop. Committing every detail to memory, he watched as the pair made their way towards her car. It was obvious, even from afar that they were a romantic pair. A smirk spread across his lips, watching until the car disappeared from view.

“You sure?” Santiago asked.

Carmen nodded. “Without a doubt.”

That night, Santiago arrived home late. Even with the information Carmen had given him, she was a liability to Los Lobos. She had endangered his life and with her unpredictable nature, she could not be trusted. After reporting back to Deucalion, the message was clear. Take her out.

The task was carried out but it caused him to return home late.

Sighing heavily, he pushed open the door to his home. He frowned when he found every light turned off. “Amor,” he called out in the darkness, flicking on the light and closing the door behind him. There was no smell of dinner though his stomach ached. The dining room and kitchen were both empty, no food in sight.

He knew his wife was home but there was no answer. Kicking off his shoes and taking the steps two at a time, he made his way towards their bedroom where a soft glow of light could be seen beneath the doorframe.

Opening the door, he found his wife sitting in bed, scrolling through her phone.

“You’re late,” Leala stated, her tone chipped and cold. She didn’t look up from her phone. “You didn’t bother answering my texts. You didn’t even tell me you’d be late.”

“Mami, I can explain…” Santiago started as he closed the distance between them, sitting on the edge of the bed on her side. He reached for her when she placed her phone down.

Santiago was about to explain what had happened when a hard slap met the side of his face. “God damnit! What the fuck?!” he yelled, grabbing her wrist before she could hit him again.

Leala screamed, trying to slip her hand out of his grasp. “Why the hell do you smell like you were around some fucking bitch?!” she cried out.

Santiago’s cheek burned from the slap she had given him and it took all he had not to lose complete control. Climbing onto the bed to pin her down was the only way he knew she couldn’t get away from him.

And so, he explained everything that had happened. He would never keep anything from her. It took time for her to calm down and after a hot shower together, he’d take her to bed to make her forget that their argument had ever happened.

[belit0]

can you do a yandere madara who’s like closed off and reserved from his wife but eventually she gives up and he’s like oh ur not leaving! omg this sounds dumb asffff

Oh, don't even say this is dumb! If there's an Uchiha I can totally picture as a Yandere, it's definitely Madara, so this was fun!

TW: Yandere! Madara

Pairing: Uchiha Madara / reader

Despite being an arranged marriage, (Y/N) was genuinely excited to be paired with one of the strongest shinobi in the world. It wasn't just his legend she was drawn to, but the beauty this man carried. How could one be so handsome and powerful at the same time?

When the proposal came to her village, her father was quick to respond, unable to turn down the opportunity to marry his firstborn to one of the most influential men in the five nations. To have the Uchiha as allies, more so, as a family, was an opportunity only a fool would turn down.

As soon as the arrangements were made, (Y/N) was sent to their lands to embark on her new destiny, having to live with a man she had never seen in person. Nothing stopped her from keeping positive thoughts, visualizing the wonderful future she would lead with the head of the largest clan in the country.

She was greeted with a warm welcome from the entire village except for Madara.

The man she was supposed to love for eternity simply waved at her from afar, complied with all the formalities, was present at the wedding, and disappeared completely. Not caring if (Y/N) was all alone in an unknown land and far from her family, he chose to keep busy with his duties as leader rather than spend time with her.

He would arrive late at night when she was already asleep, and leave early in the mornings before she woke up, (Y/N) would hopefully bump into him at some point during the day, while walking around the village or socializing with whomever she encountered.

It became a very lonely situation, the opposite of what she thought she would experience being here. She ended up as the pretty doll of the headman, who barely spoke to her.

All her obligations, as her father had instructed her, were fulfilled, and she avoided causing a scene about her situation just so as not to bring conflict to her family. She did not feel comfortable enough with anyone to discuss what was troubling her, having minimal and general contact with the women of the clan, and none with the men, who stayed away from her out of respect for their leader.

It all culminated in chaos when they had to attend her brother-in-law's birthday party. Izuna was celebrating in splendor, throwing a party for everyone in the family at the central house, and not skimping on food or drink. Everyone would celebrate along with him on a magnificent night, full of light, fun, and fire.

(Y/N) was adorned and dressed in luxurious and expensive clothes, things she would have marveled at long ago had she not been going through what she was currently enduring. "Lord Madara sent these to you, Madam (Y/N). He hopes they are to your liking."  Reported the maid who was helping her dress and beautify herself.

She had been there for three months, and it was the first gesture the Uchiha had made to her. What infuriated her the most, was the man not even deigning to hand them to her, as if he wanted to avoid her at all costs. Did he hate her? Did he sacrifice himself in marriage as a political move, with no hope of getting anything positive out of the experience? Did he even want her there?

A million questions ran through her mind daily, and receiving that gorgeous attire simply triggered more. (Y/N) could not utter a word on the matter, allowing her maid to help her in silence. She finished getting ready when the night was well advanced, and the birthday boy was supposed to finally announce his presence with a triumphant entrance.

Izuna's orders required Madara to be there watching him play out his scene, and that meant, according to the policy of their marriage, so did she. As appearances and laws demanded, she would sit like a precious puppet, smiling vacantly and interacting with whoever approached her, feigning happiness and gratitude to her husband.

Thus, she spent most of the evening perched next to her husband at the main table, eating and watching as everyone wanted to be near him, trying to generate conversation about even the simplest things.

At some point in the night, when almost everyone was already drunk, Izuna decided to say some special words of appreciation. He called for everyone to gather around him, and requested Madara's presence at his side.

(Y/N) expected him to at least pretend, take her by the hand and invite her to join her in the center of the meeting with his younger brother, but to no avail. The man simply stood and ignored her completely, smiling at Izuna. The crowd cheered for him and everyone applauded, closing the circle as the two brothers hugged and laughed at the night protagonist’s drunken words.

She decided enough was enough. It was one thing to ignore her in private and keep up appearances in public for everyone to trust in their romantic and perfect relationship. It was something else entirely to disregard her in front of everyone, not even validating her presence at his side, not recognizing her as his wife in front of an event as important as someone's birthday in the family.

Shut away and forgotten at the edge of the limelight, she decided that was it. She would sneak off and lock herself in the room they were both supposed to share and write a letter to be sent immediately to her father, in hopes he would understand the situation, and allow her to continue the marriage from afar, from the happiness of her home.

It's not like the Uchiha would care if she was there or not, having scorned and neglected her since her arrival. They probably shared the most eye contact at their wedding, with the man not even bothering to consummate their marriage. Madara avoided getting into bed with her, disappearing into the evening festivities.

(Y/N) slipped away slyly, ignoring the curious glances directed at her. She was almost at the door, when one of her maids called out to her, "Madam (Y/N)! Where are you going in such a hurry? Aren't you enjoying the party?"

Despite the ambient noise, people shouting and laughing, and all the chaos of the celebration, the girl felt a pair of special eyes boring into the back of her head. Meters away and among all the family separating them, Madara was staring intently.

She felt apprehensive about those black orbs, his invasive and violent gaze, and had the urge to run, to hide where he couldn't find her.

Ignoring him, (Y/N) made a successful exit, making her way to the privacy of her chamber. She set to work immediately, looking for paper and ink to write. Halfway through her letter, she heard the sliding bedroom door open, and footsteps approaching her.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing (Y/N)?" The first time her husband had articulated more than two words in a sentence to her. He caught her in the act, making her scratch the paper with an unplanned line of ink.

"So, you know my name, I'm impressed..." She was trying to maintain the appearance of a strong woman, stand up to the man everyone fears, and not be intimidated. Her lucky attempt ended when the Uchiha lifted her by the arm, pushing her away from the desk and slamming her against the wall.

He enclosed her in his arms, leaning dangerously close to her personal space. "You're going to stop acting like a spoiled brat and face the reality of your new life. You're not going anywhere, and if you try to escape, your family's village will be reduced to ashes by my own hands."

He kissed her hard, catching her off guard and forcibly, (Y/N) wasn't sure whether to shift her face or give in, but Madara's momentum left her no choice but to take it and reciprocate. She finally got what she had longed for, but at what cost?

"You don't want me here, you don't desire me as a woman, you don't see me as a wife, you won't even talk to me or look at me!" Her eyes filled with tears, humiliated in front of the man who should love her.

"Things don't work the way you want them because I call the shots, I dictate how everything works. You will be my beautiful wife and you will open your legs when I want you to like the good woman you are, otherwise, I will force them open for you. Fuck, maybe we'll even love each other at some point. Behave yourself, (Y/N)."

With the end of his statement, he lifts her into the air, scooping her up in his arms and tossing her carelessly onto the bed.

"Now, let's finally consummate this marriage, shall we?"

[jawabear]

Could I request angsty with fem reader and Santiago Garcia (I think he fits this scenario the best, but also if you don’t want to write him any other of the triple frontier boys will do!), in which they’re both military and she just keeps getting herself in too much danger to get the job done, and he worries too much because he’s in love with her, but can’t take it anymore and leaves her? I think these 3 prompts fit well, but feel free to not include them if you don’t get inspired by them!!❤️

14. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

15. “It’s just a scratch” “you got stabbed” “it didn’t go that deep though”

51. “I don’t want to be anywhere near you!”

Every sense of it

Captain John Price x Reader

Not my GIF

A/N: this is quite short and very angsty. I hope it’s okay? And what you were thinking of.

Genre: Angst

Warnings: fem!reader, hurt, crying, break up, mention of suicide (no one is suicidal, it’s used as a descriptor (?)), mentions of injury, if anything else let me know

Summary: John has had enough of being hurt

John hated working with you. He hated being put on missions with you. Hated having to watch you on the field fighting and killing your path through. You were too reckless. Yes, your methods, unconventional as they may be, worked well. They had never failed you and never failed the team. But they were unconventional. And dangerous. So very dangerous that Price would always go ahead, just so he didn’t have to watch and you always put yourself in the firing line. He was sure one day it would lead to your end and he couldn’t bare to watch that. 

You tested his patients constantly in debriefing. Always saying that you completed the mission so its fine. 

But it was not fine. It was never fine. John knew that injury was never inescapable on the battle field but the extent you walked away with was only supposed to be from a war. Yes, you had competed every mission you had been on. But the cost was always heavy on your body. Narrowly escaping with your life very time. 

And John was nearing his breaking point. Yes, he was your Captain and had a duty to protect you as a comrade. But he was also your lover. He had a duty to protect you as his girlfriend. What started off as a blissful, warm relationship had turned into the silent, cold one you had now. He couldn’t remember the last time he fucked you, or slept next to you, or even seen you in anything but casts, bandages and your uniform. It wasn’t a relationship anymore. Not in any sense of the word.

And thats what he hated the most. 

He loved you. He had loved you since the first moment he saw you. He distinctly remembered muttering to Gaz that he was going to marry you one day. And he had dreamt of that day ever since. To see you walking down the aisle to him, saying your vows, being his wife, maybe even going on to start a family. He would leave the army to raise his own squad of little ones with you. 

But the more he watched you out on the field, the further away that dream slipped from him. Every time you got beaten, or bruise, or missed death by a hair’s width, the laugh of his children disappeared on the wind. The smell of his home replaced by blood and gun powder. The sight of your wedding nothing more than a mud caked field covered in bodies you dropped as he hoped none of them were yours. 

Price stormed into the medical bay making everyone tense as he glared at you getting patched up from your latest hero act. “You just don’t know when to quit do you?” He growled. The nurse who was applying the gauze to your side audibly whimpered at the harshness of his tone. “Do you really have no regard for your own life?” 

“It’s fine” 

“No!” He barked. The nurse sat up and quickly scampered away, it was just the two of you now. “No. It is not alright. Nothing about that, about what you do is alright. If it was, you wouldn’t be in here getting patched up, yet again”

“Its not bad” you mumbled as you ran your hand over the fresh gauze. “Its just a scratch” 

John now stood right in front of you, his anger flooding out of him. His rage burning into the top of your head as you looked down. “You got fucking stabbed, (Y/N)”

“It didn’t go deep. I’ll survive” you shrugged. 

“For how long?” He questioned “because in my opinion, your days are fucking numbers. And I have a feeling its in the single fuckin’ digits now, love” 

“It’s the job, John. We do what we have to do”

“Don’t pull that shit on me” he pointed a sharp finger at you and shook his head “don’t get noble on me. What you do is not part of the job. Its fuckin’ suicidal. You need to think before you act or you will end up dead”

“If thats what it takes to complete the mission” 

John let out a laugh and stood back from you “fuck you. You really don’t care do you. You really don’t care about what happens to you or the people you’d leave behind. But if thats what you want for yourself, I’m not going to stand in your way. Or care. Or love you”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m done, love. I’m done with it all. With you and your sick ways of handling a mission. You’re too fucking reckless, careless and I’m sick of watching it. Sick of wondering at what point I’ll turn to see you dead in the grass or beaten so badly you may as well be dead. Its clear you don’t care, so I’m not wasting anymore time on caring about you either” 

He watched as tears fell from your eyes. He watched the way your bottom lips trembled. He wanted to wrap you up in his arms and tell you he was sorry and that he loved you. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He had to stay true to his decision. 

“W-Wait, John. Can we…let’s talk about this” 

“And what good do you think that will do? We’ve spoke about it before. I’ve told you all this before yet you’re always surprised when I bring it up again. Let’s face it. You’re never going to change. So I can’t stand by you and watch it” 

“B-But I love you” your breathing began to pick up as you cried harder. Your heart burning in your chest “I love you John. I’m sorry! I’ll change! I will! Just please! Please don’t leave me!”

“No (Y/N)” he shook his head “you won’t” 

You stood and fell into his chest. Sobbing into his shirt and you grabbed at his back “no!” You screamed. “No! John please don’t leave me! I love you! I love you! I love you!” 

“(Y/N). Stop” he warned. 

“No! I won’t. Please John! You can’t leave me! I need you!”

“And I need you. I love you (Y/N). I’ve loved you since I first saw you. But how can I have you if you’re fuckin’ dead, eh?” He grabbed your shoulders and pushed you off him. 

You looked up at him, snot no doubt falling from your nose but you didn’t care. “I will change. I promise. I won’t do it anymore” 

John sucked his lips behind his teeth and shook his head “no. I can’t. I can’t trust your word. I can’t trust you. I don’t want to be with you. I don’t want to love you. I’m done” he sat you back down and turned. 

“You’re being selfish!” You yelled at him. You knew it would anger him. Your knew his blood was boiling but you had to keep him in there with you. To give you a change to persuade him that you would in fact change. Persuade him and you. 

“Selfish?” He said, his voice dripping venom as he turned in his heel. “Don’t fucking talk to me of selfish. You don’t have the right to say that to me. No right to say it to anyone with the way you act”

“But you’re thinking of yourself. Not how you’re making me feel…” it was a shitty thing to say. You hated yourself for saying it but you needed more time. More time to think about your words. 

“I. Don’t. Care.” He spat “I don’t care about how I’m making you feel. But now you know how it does feel. Now you have the smallest glimpse of how I feel when I see you piss assing about on the field, getting hurt, nearly getting killed. You deserve the hurt. But I don’t. I don’t serve to be hurt by you anymore. I don’t want to be with you! I don’t want to be anywhere near you!” 

And with that, he left. Left you. In every sense of the word. 

5/2/23

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

I have something both very special & very angsty this time. It's inspired by a scene from my Meeting One's Match wip.

This is very specifically for TotK Ganondorf & ELady. He has just returned to their still fairly new palace in the desert from killing Queen Sonia & stealing her Secret Stone. He is still in full Demon King mode & his bloodlust is on full-boar, but upon seeing his beloved, supportive, loyal wife, he is filled with immense love & a carnal, primal sort of lust for her… just presence. Not even sex, just her, & he goes to caress her cheek lovingly as she reaches up to stroke his own in slight confusion & worry…

Only, the second their skin makes contact… you know the scene from the animated Little Mermaid where just as the sun goes down on the 3rd day, Ariel gasps as though in pain & slowly sinks to the floor?

That.

Gloom seeps over her skin as though in attempt to consume her. She whimpers in pain, which… She never does.

So, whatever she's feeling, it must be…

E x c r u c i a t i n g…

Suddenly, it’s as though he were struck with the sober stick! The fog of bloodlust has lifted from his mind, the blackness in his sclera have retreated like the tendrils of shadows from the light, leaving them white & wide with horror.

What is he feeling? How does he react? Panic, fear, guilt? Frantic orders for the Vai'eshônï (priestesses; they're generally the ones with the medical knowledge)? Does he try to carry her? Does he keep his arms crossed to prevent himself from touching her again & possibly making it worse? Does he hover fearfully as his wife quietly sobs while the Vai’eshônï try to figure out what’s wrong & how to save their queen?

It isn't until the substance has nearly engulfed his beloved queen's entire body & she's begun to quiet down even as she continues to tremble & twitch in agony (causing his panic to rise all-the-higher as he is now positive that she. Is. DYING & he. Can. Do. NOTHING) that someone rushes in with a handful of Sundelions & forces them, one by one, down her throat.

…

…

..

.

And the Gloom begins to recede…

And recede until it disappears entirely.

What is Ganondorf thinking? What is he feeling? Is he trembling with fear? With guilt? With shame? Is he near tears at what just his mere touch had done to his wife?

It doesn't escape Ganondorf's notice, the irony that what had harmed his beloved wife had been the very power of the Secret Stone he had sought so ardently & the only cure ended up being something so heavily associated with the very foreign queen that he had just killed in order to obtain it. Perhaps this was karma?

Later, once his wife has recovered enough to be awake & speak.

ELady isn't a traditionally good person, being more morally gray than anything, & has taken more than her fair share of lives, but she's also a logical & reasonable individual. And she didn't support her husband's actions. If anything, she very much advised him against it.

She warned him that there would be more consequences for his decision & that if he wasn't careful, the cost might end up being more than he was willing to give.

She never had any issues with Sonia, herself, & honestly mourned for her & Rauru's daughter who had been made motherless that night. But, at the end of the day, if he was absolutely sure that this was what he wanted, if Hyrule was what he wanted, & he chose to go through with his plans, then so long as he spared the children & allowed her to find homes for the ones orphaned, if there was no enslavement, & if he spared those who stayed out of his way, then she would support him.

She wouldn't fight with him at his side in this (as she suspected that she would require more time to recover, she still felt very weak from her vitality being eaten away at), but she would be there for him at the end of every fight if he'd allow it.

Does Ganondorf see her demands as fair? Especially considering what he'd just done to her. Albeit, inadvertently. Most would've taken the first chance they got to escape him afterwards, but she was still here & still loved him. Disappointed in him, but still loved him.

Regardless, in that instant, he was nearly overwhelmed with the need to hold his wife tight. And his arms rose on instinct before he visibly flinched.

Ganondorf is quite touch starved & he relished in his wife's affection. He craves her touch like a suffocating man does air.

So, after having her to satiate that previously unknown need, only to now be unable to indulge in it at any time he wished? Unable to feel her skin caress his or confirm that she was alright by examining her with his own hands?

Well, does he suddenly feel trapped in his own skin? Perhaps suddenly confined by the very prize he'd pursued?

What does he do?

Does he refuse to touch her?

Or… does he remove the Secret Stone?

If the second option, Ganondorf does so, takes a moment, & instantly raised his hand, the appendage stopping for a moment as if unsure, the pad of his thumb rubbing over the pads of his pointer & middle finger as if in worry, before his beautiful bride raised her own & laced their fingers together. Unafraid.

What is he thinking? What is he feeling? How does he react?

Does he pull her into an embrace? Does he apologize?

And finally, where does he go from there?

End scene. *curtsies*

But, like, I’d really like to see how the ai would have him react to all these questions.

I mean, I’ve already typed the scene out. It’s done. Finished. But I would like to see if the AI can come up with or point out something I didn't take into account.

Heyya. I love this scene you wrote out! You can feel everything in the moment, the panic, the everything! You are a fantastic storyteller, my dear. Sorry it took me a hot minute to get this out. I just liked reading it over and over. Its such a powerful scene, and one I had not considered.

Would it be safe to touch the Demon King Ganondorf in that form? He is covered in Gloom! Can he control who is harmed by it, or is it just permanently deadly? Makes romance a little hard, but... Eh, when there's a Will, there's a Way.

***********************************************************************

Ganondorf's reaction would be a tumultuous blend of emotions. The initial contact and his beloved wife's unexpected, pained whimper would strike him with a realization as sharp as a blade. Here's a possible sequence of his thoughts and actions:

Immediate Shock and Horror: As the gloom seeps over his wife's skin, Ganondorf's initial reaction would be sheer horror. His eyes widen, and the fog of bloodlust lifts instantly, replaced by a chilling clarity. The realization that he has inadvertently harmed the one person he cherishes more than anything else would hit him hard.

Panic and Guilt: He would feel an overwhelming sense of guilt and panic. The contrast between his bloodlust-fueled state and his profound love for his wife would be jarring. The fact that she is in pain because of him would be unbearable.

Frantic Actions: His first instinct might be to pull back his hand immediately, crossing his arms tightly to prevent any further accidental contact. He would likely shout frantically for the Vai'eshônï, the priestesses with medical knowledge, to come at once.

Helplessness and Desperation: As the Vai'eshônï rush to aid her, Ganondorf might feel a crushing sense of helplessness. He wants to help, to comfort her, but fears that any touch from him might worsen her condition. This would lead to him hovering nearby, his usually commanding presence now filled with fear and desperation.

Internal Turmoil: Inside, he would be battling a storm of emotions—fear for his wife's well-being, anger at himself for losing control, and a desperate hope that the priestesses can save her. Seeing his usually strong and resilient wife in such agony would be heart-wrenching for him.

Frantic Orders and Hovering: Despite his usual authoritative nature, his orders to the Vai'eshônï would be frantic, almost pleading. He might pace back and forth, occasionally stealing glances at his wife as she quietly sobs, his heart breaking with each sound of her pain.

A Moment of Vulnerability: This situation would expose a rare moment of vulnerability for Ganondorf. The usually imposing Demon King would be laid bare, his love for his wife starkly contrasting with the dark power he wields. His fear of causing her further harm would be evident in his every move, his every hesitant breath.

In this intense and emotional moment, Ganondorf's love for his wife would be painfully clear, as would the deep conflict within him between his dark powers and his devotion to her.

____________________________________________________________

As the gloom begins to engulf his beloved queen entirely, Ganondorf's panic and terror would reach their peak. The sight of her trembling and twitching in agony, the fear that she is dying, and his utter helplessness would push him to the brink of emotional collapse. Here's a deeper exploration of his thoughts and feelings in this critical moment:

Utter Desperation: Seeing his wife's condition worsen, Ganondorf would be overwhelmed by a sense of desperation. The mighty Demon King, who is usually so confident and in control, would be reduced to a helpless bystander. The realization that his touch had caused this suffering would weigh heavily on him.

Fear and Helplessness: His fear would be palpable. The terror of losing her, the one person who grounds him and brings out his humanity, would consume him. He would be on the verge of losing his composure, his usual stoic demeanor shattered.

Guilt and Shame: The guilt would be almost unbearable. Ganondorf would feel a profound shame for what his power had done to his wife. The image of her pain would be seared into his mind, a constant reminder of his own monstrous capabilities.

Near Tears: Ganondorf is not a man who easily shows vulnerability, but in this moment, he would be near tears. The thought of losing her because of his own actions would be heart-wrenching. He would struggle to hold back the tears, his emotions raw and exposed.

Relief and Hope: As the gloom begins to recede, thanks to the Sundelions, a wave of relief would wash over him. The sight of the substance disappearing from her body would bring a glimmer of hope. His breathing would be shallow and rapid, his heart pounding as he watches the life return to her.

Trembling with Emotion: Ganondorf would be trembling with a mix of fear, guilt, and overwhelming relief. His body, usually so steady and controlled, would betray his inner turmoil. His hands might shake, his eyes fixed on his wife as the gloom recedes.

Profound Gratitude: He would feel an immense gratitude towards the person who brought the Sundelions. Their quick thinking and action had saved his wife, and for that, he would be forever thankful. His eyes would convey a silent but intense gratitude.

Reassurance and Comfort: Once the immediate danger had passed, Ganondorf would be desperate to comfort his wife, but cautious. He would want to hold her, to reassure her of his love and his regret, but would hesitate, afraid of causing her more harm. His voice, usually commanding, would be soft and filled with emotion as he speaks to her, trying to soothe her pain and assure her of his unwavering love.

In this intense and emotional moment, Ganondorf's vulnerability, love, and deep conflict between his dark powers and his devotion to his wife would be starkly evident. This experience would likely leave a lasting impact on him, shaping his actions and his relationship with his beloved queen in profound ways.

_________________________________________________________

Ganondorf would be deeply impacted by the irony of the situation. The power he sought through the Secret Stone, and the means by which he obtained it, had nearly cost him the person he loves most. Her logical and reasonable nature, combined with her steadfast loyalty despite her disappointment in his actions, would make her demands all the more poignant.

Here's how Ganondorf might process and react to her words:

Reflection and Realization: As he contemplates the irony that the power of the Secret Stone harmed his wife and that the cure was something associated with Queen Sonia, Ganondorf would be struck by the concept of karma. It would force him to reflect on the consequences of his actions more deeply than ever before.

Acknowledgment of Her Wisdom: Ganondorf would recognize that his wife had been right all along. She had warned him about the potential consequences and the high cost of his ambitions. Her foresight and wisdom, which he might have disregarded in his pursuit of power, would now be undeniable.

Fairness of Her Demands: Given what had happened, Ganondorf would find her demands not only fair but also merciful. Her conditions—sparing children, finding homes for orphans, avoiding enslavement, and sparing those who stayed out of his way—would seem more than reasonable, especially considering what his actions had done to her.

Gratitude and Guilt: He would feel a profound gratitude that she still loved him and chose to stay by his side, even after the pain he had caused her. Alongside this gratitude, there would be a heavy sense of guilt. Most would have fled or turned against him, but she remained, offering her support under reasonable conditions.

Determination to Earn Her Forgiveness: Ganondorf would be determined to earn her forgiveness and rebuild her trust. He would vow to honor her conditions, not just because they were fair, but also because he wanted to prove that her loyalty and love were not misplaced.

Respect for Her Strength and Loyalty: Her ability to be logical and supportive, despite her disappointment in his actions, would deepen his respect and love for her. He would admire her strength and unwavering loyalty, recognizing that she was not only his equal in power but also in wisdom and moral fortitude.

A Shift in Perspective: This incident would likely shift Ganondorf's perspective on his ambitions and methods. He would begin to weigh the costs and consequences of his actions more carefully, influenced by his wife's wisdom and the near-tragic outcome of his quest for power.

In their conversation, Ganondorf would express his acknowledgment of her wisdom and the fairness of her demands:

Ganondorf: "My love, you were right. I see now the cost of my actions and the wisdom in your words. Your demands are more than fair, and I will honor them. I cannot undo what has been done, but I can ensure that I respect your conditions moving forward. Your loyalty and love, despite everything, mean more to me than any power. I vow to be more mindful of the consequences of my ambitions. For you, for us."

His voice would be filled with a mix of regret, determination, and love, as he acknowledges her wisdom and commits to a path that respects her conditions and seeks to earn her forgiveness and trust.

____________________________________________________________

In this critical moment, Ganondorf's overwhelming need to hold his wife would clash with the fear of causing her further harm. Here's how he might process and react to the situation:

Inner Conflict: Ganondorf would feel a profound sense of entrapment, confined by the very power he had sought. The Secret Stone, which was meant to solidify his strength, now feels like a prison, preventing him from offering the comfort he desperately wishes to provide his wife.

Desperate Decision: Driven by his love and need to feel his wife's touch, Ganondorf would make the drastic decision to remove the Secret Stone. The thought of not being able to hold her would be unbearable, outweighing the allure of the power the stone grants him.

Tentative Reach: After removing the Secret Stone, Ganondorf would tentatively raise his hand, hesitating as his thumb rubs against his fingers in worry. His need to touch her would battle with the lingering fear of causing her pain again.

Reassurance: His wife's unafraid gesture of lacing her fingers with his would be the reassurance he needs. Her strength and willingness to trust him despite what had happened would fill him with a deep sense of gratitude and love.

Emotional Embrace: Overwhelmed by emotion, Ganondorf would pull her into a gentle yet firm embrace. The feel of her in his arms, safe and alive, would be a powerful relief. He would hold her close, his body trembling with a mix of fear, guilt, and love.

Apology and Vow: Ganondorf would whisper apologies into her ear, his voice choked with emotion. He would vow to be more cautious, to honor her wisdom, and to protect her above all else. His words would be sincere, a testament to his deep love and newfound respect for her guidance.

Ganondorf: "I'm so sorry, my love. I never meant to hurt you. You were right, and I see that now. I will do better, for you, for us. I promise."

New Resolve: This experience would fundamentally change Ganondorf's perspective. He would begin to value her advice more, weighing the consequences of his actions more carefully. The need to protect her and ensure her well-being would become a driving force in his decisions.

Strengthened Bond: Their bond would grow stronger through this ordeal. Ganondorf would be more attentive, more respectful of her insights, and more determined to earn her trust. He would seek her guidance, valuing her wisdom as an essential part of his own strength.

From this point forward, Ganondorf's actions would be influenced by the lessons learned from this near-tragic event. His wife's presence and her unwavering support would become his anchor, guiding him towards a more balanced and considerate path in his pursuit of power and ambition.

[cinnbar-bun]

This might sound dumb and I’m tryna word this in a way that’s not weird but for your American Dream series why would Valentine marry an immigrant when he’s like… that? Are you trying to make him not racist?

Okay so at first I admit I was taken aback but I also realized this is FV and he’s got a heinous list of crimes against him, so fair. I’ll try my best to explain my thought process on him but uuuhhhh this gonna get wordy and maybe spoilery??

Despite FV being president we really don’t hear a lot about his political views or economic views that got him elected. All we know is he served for the Union during the Civil War, he had a 91% approval rating even after he “disappeared”, and he’s a staunch imperialistic nationalist. It’s really a toss up if he would have been a Republican or a Democrat because there’s tons of evidence serving both sides. I choose to think of him as a Republican (Republican back then meaning Democrat) due to his stance on the Civil War and also him replacing Benjamin Harrison, who was a Republican.

THAT BEING SAID despite the time difference… I don’t think he was racist. At least, not in the ‘usual’ sense. His whole plan was to make America a dominant super empire over the world, while making every bad thing happening in America redirected somewhere else over the world. He just doesn’t care about the rest of the world because America should come first and be the best. But he’s also callous and doesn’t actually care about American people, but “America” the concept.

Considering Mike O. (a black man) is his most trusted bodyguard and one he even lets protect his wife and FV’s service for the Union, I don’t think he’s racist like that. It’s much deeper and more complex than a “white vs every other race” type of racism.

I think it’s more he’s ‘xenophobic’ but also, again, not in the usual sense. Considering his attitude on America and other countries, I believe he doesn’t mind immigrants, but they have to be ‘useful’ to America in a sense, or do something to help/benefit America. If you choose to be in America versus staying in the homeland, well, you’re an American to him and you made a good choice leaving that other place.

He’s a ‘might makes right’ type of guy, so I see it as “if you prove your value to America, you are a true American.” One of his earliest lessons was patriotism and dying for your country is the most honorable thing anyone can do, so it’s clear that that would be an easy way to somewhat earn his respect (so long as you don’t meddle with his plans).

In the example I wrote for The American Dream, his late wife is MENA. Obviously she would not have been treated as equal to a white woman in America itself for the time period. If she were to stay in the Middle East, FV would have had no respect for her and would not care if she was hurt by the effects of the corpse and Love Train. She would just be another nameless non-American who doesn’t deserve the ambitions of America. However, she immigrated to America, thus making her an American woman. What elevated her in his mind (and thus became a major point in his idealization of her) was that she joined in the Civil War effort as a nurse and also died for the Union (and his daughter).

To normal people, one could argue that she really didn’t need to join and serve a country that didn’t care for her, but to FV, it’s the opposite. She immigrated here to America, compared to staying back there. America gave her the opportunity to do something different and live out the “American Dream”, and she was merely paying it back by serving her country in a war. She proved herself to be a true, respectable American, which is done through actions, not merely lineage.

It’s the name of his own spirit manifested, “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap”. He doesn’t give a shit about the cost, but a ‘strong’ person is one who does things with their own hands and is unafraid to get them dirty to do it. He doesn’t care about the sacrifices so long as it benefits the collective of America.

So TLDR: he’s fucked up but not racist like that. If you live in America, whether a minority or not, you’re American. If you don’t, you’re on his shit list. Hence why I also gave him a MENA wife (as a MENA woman) but also as a commentary for later chapters that I will go into.

[marine-indie-gal]

Been waiting for so long on wanting to design Some Parents for My Space Goofs OCs (including the Infertile Neighbors who treat their own Pets as Children).

Also, given on how that I've added in the Girl from the Cancelled Movie, I'd figure that since if the Movie would've already been made, I could at least imagine on how either Xilam or Synthese would've have design the Parents based on their Daughter, while also giving Ambre's Family their own Surname.

Though I've actually drew the First Neighbors through an Animatic that I did last month, I've wanted to show their True Appearances (especially after doing their own Pets).

Bonus Undercut, I've also created each Bio for The Parents as well as their Official Names & Confirmed Ages.

Rebecca (Fitzy & Fergus' Mother)

Very Loving Cleaning Housewife who loves to Cook and Bake some Delicious Foods. But can get very extremely worried, especially if either Fitzy or Fergus disappear in front of her.

Harold (Fitzy & Fergus' Father)

The Kind of Your Average Everyday-Run-Of-The-Mill Neighbor Character. Loves to cook some Barbeque & Hang out to Chat with some Friends & is a Very Proud Father to his own "Children".

Ambre's Mother

Caring & Devoted Mother whose a Workaholic (especially when she's out on her Job that she works as a Waitress at a Restaurant). But cannot take any non-sense (especially if she doesn't believe or is unaware of the fact that one of Her Neighbors could be Actual Aliens).

Ambre's Father

Lazy Father who tries his own Best to Work even Harder. He works as Both of a Construction Worker & Craftsman of Wood, kinda like to be the Dad that just wants to take his own Family through some Outings.

Lukas' Mother

Usually a Chill Woman who can make manners into her own Hands, she is indeed Very Sassy and Snarky (probably on why her Son is like that). Mostly like the "Wine Aunt" type. She also works an Employee at a Yacht Club.

Lukas' Father

The Kind of Sneaky Jokester of a Father who likes to tease around a bit while also love spoiling his own Son. Would have a Few Disagreements with his Wife (especially if the Father were to spoil his Child a bit much), but loves her for who she is. Also works as a Bartender near an Breakfast Diner.

Jayda's Father

Very Polite and Well Nice Man with a Bold Good Heart. Genuinely a Smart Person whose always the Level-Headed One. The Most Sophisticated Gentleman of a Father who can comfort Others if One Person might be Sad. Basically the “Male-Wife” Man. Also works at a Factory.

Jayda's Mother

Very Sassy & Determined compare to Lukas' mother, she cannot take crap from anybody (not even to those who try to push her) but is also very Strong and Open-Minded with some Cunning Strength. But don't ever make a Big Mama angry, especially if one might upset any of her own Kids. Probably why her Husband really loves her, is because of the way he admires her Own Willpower & is the Very Protective Wife/Mother at all costs. She also works at a Car Wash.

Matthew's Mother

A Sweet & Loving Devoted Mother to her own Son and even Faithful Wife to her Husband. Loves to give a Warm Special Welcome to her own Guests (especially if her Son is making Friends) & even works as an Librarian after retiring herself as a School Teacher.

Matthew's Father

A Very Strict Dad who works at an Office (the same One whom Ambre's Mother goes to) and is often stressed about his own Job despite getting some warm comfort from his Dear Wife. Despite being a Loving Husband & Good Father himself, he can get quite stubborn towards anybody, even with a serious attitude as he hates when some of his Son's experiments can go wrong but still respects his Son's devoted love for Science.

Tyson's Father

A Very Extremely Scared & Cowardly Anxious Man who happens to have Many Types of his Deep Phobias (mostly likely Insects). Can act a little too over-protective of his own Children (especially when he sense that they're almost in Danger), but still enjoys life despite the Worst that he has been through. Works as a Mailman but always gets into Wacky Hijinks such as Dogs chasing right after him.

Tyson's Mother

A Very Calm and Sensible Mother & is always there for her Husband to make sure that everything is always Alright. A Well Adjust Behave & the Most Very Sane Person on the Entire Planet who has a deep love for Nature, a Good Kind-Hearted Mother towards her Kids & gives Good Advice towards People (probably the reason as to why She is there to shield her own Husband as she doesn't tend to hesitate). Also works as a Florist.

Space Goofs (c) Xilam

OCs (c) Me

[yellowcry]

Place your trust in me, you have no one else

Luisa knows that she had to count only on herself. It was better than trusting anyone. They would leave her anyway, just like how they left Mirabel.

Luisa was really young when she learned that she was the only person she could count on. Coming with the need to be a parent, she did realize that adults wouldn't help if there was something bad. It was a harsh reality. but she couldn't trust anyone fully. The first part of survival was independence and Luisa learned that from her primary age. 

It wasn't like somebody would do it intentionally, betray her, push them into the cold dusty ground, but it still could happen. Was the reason that mattered? Luisa didn't think so. She taught herself to run from her school responsibilities, which she was doing pretty sloppily, to Mirabel, also trying to push some time to work in between. Physical strength gave her enough advantage, but it didn't change the fact that it was hard. She couldn't place her trust fully in anyone. It was just the way things were, she had to always count on herself to ensure their safety. 

And Mirabel needed someone to look after her, someone strong and mature. Luisa would be the one to take care of her if she needed to. After all, she was practically an adult. All costs to stay strong and independent for Mirabel. She was the only person her girl had, and she had to take care of her.

-

Maybe she could trust them, just a little.

As time passed, grown-ups seemed to be a bit more eager to look out for Mira and spend time with her. Luisa still prefers to be around, what if her hijita would be hungry or just wanted her around? But she notices the changes. Mirabel gets to interact with other family members. 

They didn't spend a lot of time with her even now, but Luisa couldn't really blame adults in this account. Mirabel looked so much like Julieta that it was painful. But it was better than before. 

Maybe things weren't that bad after all.

-

She shouldn't have.

Mirabel's ceremony was a disaster. She didn't get a gift and the entire room immediately got filled with tensed worry and scaped gossipping. Not only that, but Bruno disappeared by the next morning arrived.

It's even worse than it had been before. Not one, but two triplets had disappeared now, and both occasions were related to Mirabel in some way. Tia Pepa was mad as hell, she was one of the people who liked Mirabel the least even before, but now it was something worse, an evident hate in her eyes each time she looked at Mirabel. Not only Julieta had passed away, giving birth to her, but Bruno also disappeared on the day she didn't get a gift. Camilo, an extreme Mama's boy, followed Pepa, now ignoring Mirabel or even being childly cruel to her. Felix was better, but he stayed close to Pepa and ignored Mirabel. Dolores seemed to be the only one who didn't dislike her cousin.

Luisa's own side of the family wasn't much better. Agustin... well, he tried. But with how much Mirabel looked like Julieta it was hard to interact with her. When he spent too much time with her, he returned to the state he had for more than a year after his wife's death. When Luisa had to bring food for him or force him to take a shower (which usually meant locking him in a bathroom until he was done), and it didn't help anyone at all. Isabela was even more angry than Pepa. Luisa had noticed how her sister started to hang out with Abuela even more than before and, since their granny seemed to straight up hate Mirabel now, so Isabela, who was already bitter with her, now was extremely angry with her.

It just proved Luisa's point of view, she was the only person Mirabel could count on. If she would be childish, trying to trust others, they would be hurt and betrayed. Being independent was safer, it wouldn't hurt as much if you didn't trust anyone to begin with. She would carry everything alone, she had to. Mirabel needed her, nobody would come to help her(Or they would leave the moment they had a chance). So Luisa needed to help her sister-daughter. It was better if she trusted only to herself. She promised to keep Mirabel safe, no matter the cost. The only people who didn't treat her child except herself were Dolores and Agustin (who still had a hard time being around). But Luisa knew better already. Mirabel was treated normally by everyone once before, just for everything to return to the beginning at the moment they had a chance. Luisa wouldn't trust them again, she couldn't forgive them. And why would she? It would just leave her disappointed in the end.

She promised to protect Mirabel, it wasn't that hard to spin around, taking care of everything herself. 

[headcanonsandmore]

'Stand and Deliver!', Chapter One

Summary: Tegan Jovanka has returned to her ancestral village on Sutton Common, after living in London for several years. However, all is not as she remembered; a mysterious highwayman now patrols the common, stopping the normal bandits from attacking the poor and then disappearing into the mists without a trace. Although Tegan may have other things to focus on, as the kindly Nyssa Traken (daughter of the local parson) seems intent on making room for herself within Tegan's affections…

~~~~~~~~~

Read on AO3.

~~~~~~~~~

Tegan Jovanka stifled a yawn against the palm of her hand.

It had been a very long. She had managed to push her way through the crowded streets of London to catch the coach back home, and had been stuck inside said-coach for the past several hours. It had taken a very long time for the coachmen to get out of London, packed as the streets were. Given that it was winter time, the sun was beginning to sink towards the western horizon. Rapidly approaching twilight, the coachmen urged the horses onward.

Tegan’s fellow passengers were not the most talkative of bunches either. But maybe that was for the best, given the foul mood Tegan was in. She had never liked travelling by coach; the roads were bumpy and often in poor condition regardless of the season, but especially bad during winter due to the rain, sleet, snow and wind.

She was gladly awaiting a hot meal at her parents inn, and to finally sink into her bed.

Granted, she hadn’t seen her parents in several months. Not since midsummer, come to think of it. She had been staying with Aunt Vanessa for some years now and, while she did always journey back for special occasions, it had been a long time since she had called her ancestral village “home”.

But her time living with her aunt was coming to an end; Vanessa had been ill for a while, and -with the added cost of a live-in nurse, she could no longer afford to have Tegan living with her, although she had put it off for as long as she had been able to.

Tegan had been planning on moving back home anyway. Her parents had sent her to stay with her aunt for the purposes of “making a lady out of her”. Tegan had tried, but her heart just hadn’t been in it. She was always far too forthright to fit in with the people that her parents had hoped Aunt Vanessa could introduce her to.

Her parents, in their letters, had been very understanding. Her mother had been a little disappointed at first, but Joy knew her daughters mind well enough to know that Tegan Jovanka had too indomitable a spirit to be a quiet wife of some merchant.

Not that Tegan had let her know that marrying a man would never have worked out well for her.

Her father, meanwhile, was just happy to have his daughter home. William (Billy to everyone who knew him) was a very easy-going man, which was presumably why the villagers liked having him as the local innkeeper.

Tegan had missed that place, to be honest. She had even missed her little brother Adric, although she would never admit it.

The carriage jostled over another pothole, and the occupants all let out another muffled groan of irritation and pain. Tegan winced; the wooden seat, even with the several petticoats she was wearing to keep herself warm, would not have been especially comfortable even on a well-maintained road. That warm bed couldn’t come soon enough.

Through the window, she could see the occasional skeletal branches of trees. The leaves had long since fallen away in autumn, and spring was due to arrive for another good month or so. Tegan shivered, pulling her shawl closer around herself. She did like the thick coat that her aunt had bought her the previous winter, but even it wasn’t warm enough to repel the cold dampness of the air.

She missed the summer. Especially the summers before she had left for London. Enjoying the feeling of warmth on her face as she walked through the village, the gentle breeze through her hair, splashing her feet in the river with the other girls, and laughing along with them.

Laughing along with one girl in particular.

Memories swirled in Tegan’s mind. Long tresses of curly brown hair, an immensely gentle smile, and a pair of beautiful grey-green eyes.

Tegan pulled herself out of that memory. She hadn’t seen… her for a very long time. But her heart didn’t seem to have forgotten so easily. It really wasn’t fair.

Well, she would have to get over it, if she hadn’t done already. The daughter of the local clergyman was… well, no matter how lovely she was, she was off limits to Tegan.

During her time in London, Tegan had heard of women falling for other women.  But that didn’t mean she was lucky enough to… well, to even have so much as a second glance would be more than she expected, even if the glance was from someone as kind and wonderful as-

‘Whoa!’

With a horrible jolt, the carriage slowed to a quick stop, sending the occupants sliding across the wooden benches, the woman holding onto their bonnets and the men their hats.

‘Stand and deliver!’ cried a coarse, unpleasant voice from the semi-darkness outside.

Tegan’s heart sank. Highwaymen.

Sutton Common was unfortunately known for this nowadays. Bands of robbers plagued the roads outside (and often inside) the capital, extorting money from both rich and poor alike. The authorities were virtually powerless to stop them.

Tegan looked out of the window. The highwayman in question was stood nearby, nearby a horse that he had clearly just dismounted.

The man was of medium build, wearing a long black cloak and with a hat to hatch. A mask covered his eyes, but Tegan could practically feel the unpleasantness in his gaze. He gave the impression of a man at the end of his tether and with most of his brain capacity taken up with controlling his temper.

‘Hand over your money now!’ he growled, pointing a gun in one hand.

‘And if we refuse?’ Tegan replied. She heard the frightened collective wince of her fellow passengers.

The highwayman glared at her.

‘Your money or your life, missy!’

‘You vile man!’ Tegan snapped, her fear disappearing in the face of her anger. She threw open the door, and stepped down out of the coach, storming across to where the bandit was standing. ‘How dare you?’

The man’s eyes narrowed behind his mask, and he glowered at her, raising his gun to point it at Tegan.

‘Why, I ought to-’

BANG!

The gun was blown out of the man’s hand.

The highwayman looked around, shocked. Tegan looked in the direction of where the gunfire had come from.

A figure was stood on the thick branch of a tree nearby. They were clad in a long black cloak, under which a white shirt seemed to sparkle in the semi-darkness of the twilight. A tricone hat was placed on their head at a jaunty angle and a black mask covered their eyes. A gloved hand, carrying a pistol, was stretched out in front of them, pointing directly at the highwayman.

‘It’s the phantom!’ cried the highwayman, mouth falling open in horror.

The phantom -if that was their name- leapt out of the tree, their cloak rippling like wings behind them as they descended, as if an avenging angel sent down from heaven.

With a thud, a pair of black leather boots hit the floor.

There was a snick of metal upon metal, and the figure raised a cutlass before them, adopting a fighting stance as they stood a few paces away from the highwayman. Tegan’s heart leapt into her throat; who on earth was this person? She could practically feel the gravitas emanating off them, as if it was unconsciously drawing Tegan closer.

The highwayman took one look at the figure, and bolted back towards his horse. A few moments later, he and the horse had disappeared into the fog.

The figure placed their handgun back under their cloak, presumably in a holster at their waist, and strode towards the coach.

‘My apologies,’ said the figure, stopping just in front of Tegan. She was shocked to realise that their masked saviour’s voice was several octaves higher than she had been expecting. How young was this man? ‘I hope that none of you had your belongings stolen before I intervened?’

‘Your hope would be correct,’ Tegan said. ‘We are all unharmed, albeit not unruffled.’

The phantom’s head turned to look clearly at Tegan, who was struck suddenly by the pair of bright eyes (it was too dark to see the actual colour) that seemed to glisten behind the mask.

‘Are… are you going to rob us?’

‘I only rob the very rich,’ the phantom replied, with a quick bow to her before straightening up. Tegan was immediately aware of how close they were standing to her. ‘And never drawing blood, if you can believe that.’

‘I don’t, to be honest.’

The tip of the cutlass gently pressed against Tegan’s chin. Tegan held her breath, as her face was softly pushed upwards. The young woman felt her pulse accelerate and the palms of her hands begin to sweat, despite the cold air. Her bonnet slid back slightly, revealing her face in the twilight.

The pair of eyes seemed to widen under the mask, and the mouth (soft with surprisingly full lips) opened, as if shock. A faint colour pinkened their cheeks.

‘Miss… Jovanka?’

‘I… yes,’ Tegan said, blinking quickly.  ‘I do not believe we have been acquainted?’

The phantom chuckled.

‘That is mine to know, and yours to ponder. Was London not to your taste?’

‘Are you going to run me through if I don’t answer?’

There was a pause.  

‘I… forgive me, Miss Jovanka,’ said the masked figure, placing the cutlass back into its scabbard. ‘That was unbecoming of me. I will bid you leave for the village soon; I dare to say that ruffian isn’t the only potential killer on the common this evening.’

Tegan stared at them.

‘Very well,’ she said. ‘I do not recognise you; are you a recent addition to the area?’

‘In a matter of speaking. I was not aware that you were returning to the village.’

‘Well -not that it’s any concern of yours- but I am returning to work in my family’s inn.’

‘I think you’ll find it is my concern,’ replied the masked figure. ‘We can’t have the daughter of the innkeeper being held up at gunpoint, can we?’

‘But being held up at swordpoint is acceptable?’

‘I…’ -a slight blush seemed to appear on the phantom’s cheeks. ‘That is a good point. Again, my apologies.’

Despite herself, Tegan let out a chuckle.

‘Alright,’ she said. ‘I’ll forgive you this time. Good evening to you, Sir Phantom.’

The masked figure smiled, dimples appearing in their cheeks.

‘And to you, Miss Jovanka.’

Tegan turned, and climbed up into the coach. She then turned to look behind her, but the phantom had disappeared into the rapidly spreading fog between the trees. She couldn’t even hear the sound of feet on the ground.

Tegan sat down on the seat, feeling her heart -and mind- continue to race. What on earth had just happened? Since when had a gentleman highwayman been operating on Sutton Common? And why hadn’t her parents mentioned this in any of their letters?

The coach began to move, at a fast pace, and Tegan’s fellow passengers stopped looking nervously out of the window. Tegan had a feeling that no highwayman would bother them for the rest of their journey, but that just raised further questions.

Something had clearly changed in her ancestral village while she had been gone. And she was determined to find out what. 

~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone; hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this highwayman!AU fic! If you liked it, please like and reblog, and leave a comment and kudos on the AO3 page.

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

She convinced herself. This is also why I can swallow the 2nd almost marriage - she wants to believe the fairytale. I don't believe she ever thought it was true love but I think she thought they were both trying to make an honest go of it. What kills her is being made a fool of in that way. Because let's go back, why did Dorothy marry him? Because she was pregnant, which actually means because she couldn't/wouldnt get an abortion, because she's from a religious family (interestingly it seems they're both from poor immigrant backgrounds). She married him to make everyone else happy, because it was "the right thing to do". Because it meant she wasn't just an easy girl, she could be a good wife and mother (her baby wouldn't be a bastard)- and he destroyed that and in doing so destroyed her in a sense. So yeah, she had every reason to make herself believe that it wasn't happening, to beloeve she hadnt made another mistake.

You make a very compelling argument, anon. After the wedding, it likely became a matter of sunk-cost fallacy for her: she sacrificed so much (of herself and for herself) to become Stan's wife and the mother of his children, so it had to work, no matter what -- because the alternative was that she'd given up her youth, her happiness, her dreams for a whole lot of nothing. And the more time passed -- the more Stan dug this hole around her -- the more painful the idea of letting go became, because she'd invested so damn much in this marriage. It's hard to let go of something when you've given your entire self to it.

I can totally see her telling herself that it's all in her head and choosing to believe Stan's lies because it hurt less than the alternative, and then being completely taken aback when he left (without even the decency to tell her in person, mind you). I recall her saying that she spent a lot of time being holed up in her room after the divorce, until Sophia managed to get her out of her depression, and I mean -- is it any wonder? The ground she'd walked on for years literally disappeared under her feet in the span of one phone call.

I feel like there's some space to think she was honest with herself about it -- a sort of Glen situation in which she knew what was happening, suffered because of it, but still decided not to act on it -- but the self-gaslighting seems more likely, for two reasons:

I think if she'd been fully aware of Stan's infidelity she would have ended up confronting him about it, either during or after their marriage, but in S2E13 he clearly thinks she didn't know about his affairs (except the one that led to the divorce).

It's just in character for her, as you say. She wants to believe that she's fine, that her marriage is working, that Stan really does love her, no matter what. This has been pointed out before a few times, but whenever Stan does something decent in the show she just completely melts, and you can tell this is learned behaviour. She's conditioned herself to believe in him and survive on crumbs of his affection (until she couldn't anymore, that is).

So yeah, this hypothesis makes sense (perfect, heartbreaking sense) to me too.

[icarus-suraki]

I've noticed an odd pattern in recent op-ed pieces from conservatives lately and I'm not posting this as a scare tactic, but I am saying that you might want to pay attention.

The conservatives and right-wingers are hung up on Christian heterosexual marriage again. They really want everyone to be in a nice 50s-style marriage and this is not good.

Brad Wilcox had a piece in The Atlantic and then David Brooks had a piece in the NYT and I've since come across a couple of others behind paywalls.

What you need to know is that these pieces are all pushing that 1. rich people keep experimenting with polyamory and that's bad and 2. poor people need to get married a lot more. They are 100% pushing the 1950s "nuclear family" model.

Brad Wilcox dragged out some statistics--like how much more likely it is that a child born "out of wedlock" to a low-income mother will remain in poverty. And, yes, that's statistically true, but maybe it's because the social and community structures that used to support parents and children have either been (purposefully) broken down or removed. Extended family, for example, have been pushed aside in favor of the "nuclear family" model. To say nothing of the cost of childcare and how nobody's getting paid enough.

His big argument is a kind of "life plan" of... graduate from high school -> work full time -> marry -> have children. And, sure, in the current socio-economic situation, that would give someone some greater stability (if the work is paid well enough) because there's no systems in place to help. Two incomes and two people in a household could make raising children easier (in theory).

But I'm left wondering how much of what he thinks can be solved by marriage and marriage-before-children when a lot of it can be solved by better income and better support. But that's not what conservatives want to see.

David Brooks just makes me want to throttle him sometimes. His argument is the old saying, "happy wife, happy life."

His statistics suggest that people who are married are happier than people who are single (if the marriage is happy, I guess???), especially in middle age. So his argument is that everybody is thinking too much about their careers and not enough about who they're gonna marry.

No really: he wants everyone to put more thought into marriage than into career. Because a happy marriage makes life better even if you have a crappy job.

Now that might be true if you have a crappy job that pays really well. But the economic climate really dictates that you have to think about career/work first because otherwise you're just going to be married but starving. There is no certainty of survival without income because there are no safety measures anymore. You have to think about survival before partnership or marriage. And nobody is getting paid enough except for a very, very few in the upper echelons.

He also suggests reading Jane Austen's novels to get a "positive" view on marriage. Jane Austen, a woman who herself never married and whose novels point up the problems women of the era have with being unable to inherit or own and instead have to marry to literally survive. Good plan.

Oh and Mr. Brooks has been divorced and remarried. For the record. I wonder what his first wife's opinions on this article are.

So what they want is a lot of nicely 1950s married heterosexual couples (ideally Christian, probably white or at least acting white) when the real issue is that all the social and community structures that we really need have disappeared. They're trying to replace large community with "traditional" marriage and that idea is faulty at best.

So heads up: don't fall for their tactics. The economy is more of an issue. Rights are more of an issue. This is some tradwife propaganda here, as written by two cis men.

[likecastle]

Ronance Femslash February - robin proposes to nancy after a romantic dinner

Oh, anon. You sent me this very sweet ask and I’ve failed to fill it properly twice in a row now. But this time around, there is a romantic dinner, and a proposal, at least! I hope you still enjoy this, even though it’s not quite exactly what you asked for. I had a lot of fun writing it--both times. Happy Valentine’s Day, everybody, from your local slantwise romantic!

I’m accepting Ronance prompts all month for Femslash February. Anon asks are totally fine, and you’re welcome to send more than one prompt. Don’t be shy! Please, keep them coming! You can find previous prompts I’ve filled here.

Content warning for a brief reference to vomit (though no actual vomiting occurs).

In hindsight, the restaurant Nancy booked for dinner might have been a little too fancy. They don’t have all that much money left, and Nancy can already tell just from the lobby that it’s pricier than the guidebook made it sound. But it’s their last night in Paris, and she figures they deserve to treat themselves one more time.

“Merd alors,” Robin mutters as they’re ushered to their table, then promptly trips over the threshold of the dining room because she’s craning her neck to get a look at the stained glass ceiling. She only avoids falling flat on her face because Nancy grabs her elbow, and when Robin turns around to throw her a grateful grin, Nancy is almost too distracted worrying she’s going to trip again to notice how Robin’s smile lights up her whole face.

There’s a little voice in the back of Nancy’s head that’s insisting this night is going to be a disaster. They’re underdressed, for one thing, which the maître d’ makes clear with a disdainful glance that somehow manages to encompass both the oversized blazer Robin is wearing and the wrinkles Nancy couldn’t quite manage to steam out of her dress by hanging it up in the shower. But Robin doesn’t seem to care, and so Nancy tries not to feel self-conscious. Nobody knows them here, she reminds herself. They’re here to have a good time, not to make a good impression.

“This place is bonkers,” Robin says once the maître d’ has given them their menus and disappeared. “This is the sort of place you take your wife to apologize after she finds out about your mistress. I’m pretty sure there was a symbol for that in the guidebook, actually.” She opens the wine list and lets out a strangled noise that causes the couple at the next table to look over at her in consternation. “Uh, Nance,” she whispers, “the cheapest wine on the menu costs as much a used car.”

She turns the menu around so Nancy can see, and while Nancy is relieved to see Robin is exaggerating, she’s alarmed to find that the spirit of her assessment is spot on.

Nancy steels herself and shrugs. “It’s our last night,” she says, trying not to notice how the couple at the next table is obviously talking about them. “Let’s live a little.”

“Well,” Robin says with aplomb, “if the boss says I’ve gotta live large, how can I refuse?”

When their waiter shows up, Robin orders the second-cheapest red wine on the menu, and also an order of gougères to start—because, she says, “I know we said we’d try escargot at least once, but I just feel so sorry for the little snails. Imagine being boiled to death in your own home!”

Nancy doesn’t really know anything about wine, short of her mom’s penchant for drinking white wine with ice cubes in the summer, but she’s pretty sure this wine is good. Enough that by the time their main course arrives, she cares less about how nicely everyone else is dressed and doesn’t even bother smothering her laughter at Robin’s terrible jokes.

“Wait, wait,” Robin says, leaning forward conspiratorially. “I take it back. This isn’t the place you take your wife to apologize, it’s the place where tourists go to get engaged. Don’t look now, but that guy at your six o’clock is making his move. He could have at least done it at the Eiffel Tower or something, jeez. I said don’t look!”

Of course, Nancy looks. The guy is down on one knee as he makes an impassioned speech in English. Though the words are indistinct, his flat Midwestern vowels are familiar. It makes Nancy feel acutely embarrassed, like she’s watching somebody bomb a public presentation. The woman he’s proposing to looks like she’s about to burst into tears of joy.

“Oh my god,” Robin whispers gleefully, “did you bring me here to propose to me? Am I going to propose to you? This place is pretty romantic. Maybe you just can’t help it after an hour or so of all this ambiance.” She glances at the flowers at the center of their table, then up at Nancy with a smirk. “Maybe it’s a requirement here, like it’s part of the dress code.”

Nancy rolls her eyes and takes another sip of her wine, trying not to lose the pleasant, generous warmth that’s been sneaking up on her all evening. It’s just that there’s something about these big romantic gestures that puts her on edge. She used to think it was because she was above all that, too evolved to care whether Jonathan brought her chocolates on Valentine’s Day. Later, she wondered if maybe it was because she was always aware somewhere in the back of her mind that the relationships she was in weren’t quite right for her, like maybe she couldn’t love Jonathan or Steve the way she needed to to enjoy those saccharine romantic rituals. But the thing is, she does love Robin in a way that feels right, that takes up her whole her heart instead of just a small, safe part of it. She loves Robin completely, and she still can’t imagine being the one tearfully admiring her new ring as a waiter pours champagne. She knows Robin is joking about them getting married, but some part of her can’t help worrying that someday, further down the line, it’s going to be a problem that Nancy’s version of forever doesn’t include a ring and a white dress.

“Hey,” Robin says softly, and Nancy glances up to see Robin watching her fondly. “You want to get out of here? I’m not sure we can even afford to look at the dessert menu.”

Nancy doesn’t know how Robin does it. She’s much better than she would ever give herself credit for at reading Nancy’s moods, and she always knows just the right thing to puncture her bad attitude. “There’s nothing I would love more.”

They pay their bill and Robin practically drags her out onto the street. “Come on!” Robin cries, and they jog, hand-in-hand, under the golden street lights, even though they’re both a little too full and a little too tipsy to be running. They finally come to a stop on a bridge over the Seine, and the picturesque beauty of the night can’t even be undermined by Robin muttering beside her, “I think I’m going to throw up. Oh, god, if I throw up right now, it’s going to be the most expensive puke I’ve ever had.”

Nancy laughs. She can’t help it. She loves Robin so much—right here, right now, in a way that feels bigger than her body and also only just for her.

“OK,” Robin breathes, straightening up. “I think the worst has passed, no thanks to you. I didn’t take you for the sort who would laugh at someone else’s misery, but here we are.”

“How about I buy you some ice cream to make up for it?” Nancy asks, rolling her eyes.  “I think there’s a cart over there.”

Robin grins. “Oh, god, I love you so much.”

It’s still a thrill to hear her say it like that, out loud on a crowded street. She loops her arm through Robin’s and they cross the bridge arm-in-arm, hips bumping as they walk. Later, when Robin kisses her on a secluded stairway near their hostel, she tastes of sugar and strawberries and Nancy can’t get enough of her.

[sleepyselkiesims]

Part 47

Snow White was getting worse. Both Chris and Apple weren't enough.

Attina loved her mama, but this was too much!

The benevolent god tried having Snow do things she enjoyed, but she just seemed.... empty.

Chris was just about the only thing that got a reaction out of her anymore.

Luckily, Chris had a plan. He got up early one morning, and proposed part of his idea.

Just before the sun rose, as snow settled upon the ground, the loving couple returned to the place where, just last winter, they'd ended the most romantic day of their lives.

Snow was thrilled with Chris' thoughtfulness! Apparently he'd even found a vampire-safe drink that he would make for her himself! How special!

She politely looked away and ignored the splashes during the moments Chris messed up the drink. He may have had the theory memorized, but the man had never mixed a drink in his life.

Actually, Chris knew a surprising number of special drinks for a guy who's never touched a bar before!

Chris handed her the glass so casually that she took a sip without a second thought.

It was surprisingly delicious! Especially given the weird green smoke trail it left behind. Maybe it had just been too long since she'd tasted anything besides plasma. The drink disappeared in a single gulp.

Next thing she knew, Snow White rose off the ground and started spinning in the air, accompanied by black fog. She managed to shoot a glance at Chris, who couldn't stop grinning.

For some reason, Snow seemed more upset in this moment than she had when she initially became a vampire??

The magic was unstoppable by that point. In a bright burst of light that would've made Shrek and Fiona happy, she felt herself change once more.

Emotion overwhelmed Snow White in that moment. The power she was now familiar with was just... gone. She could feel her bladder again. Death would come for her, inevitably. And Chris... Chris hadn't told her.

But there he was, gasping with delight, amazed with himself and his beautiful wife. And she had to admit, it was pretty cool that he'd figured out the drink on his own, just for her.

Well, now that she wasn't a vampire anymore... Chris pulled out his notebook and started barraging Snow with questions.

But of course, his strangeness is what led Snow White to fall in love with him in the first place.

And she didn't need to be a vampire to have Christopher entirely within her thrall.

With that, the spouses shared yet another true love's first kiss; their first as mutual human sims since Snow White transformed! They were gonna set records for Number of True Love's First Kisses.

"Hey honey, remember when I karate chopped you in the face at our wedding?"

"Yes!! I don't need the physical reminder though.

"Did you just see that?!?!!? What just happened?!? My entire worldview has irrevocably shifted!!"

"Yeah, I remember when that happened to me back in the day. Weird summer."

As the sun started to peek out, the couple hurried back home. Snow White's kids would be so happy when they got home, and found their mother returned to her old self, just in time for their birthday!

...Well... ok only 2 kids really remembered the pre-vampire days. So human mom was probably more weird than nice. But shhh, celebration!!

And don't tell Snow that drink cost around 8,000 simoleons. Plumbob, let's hope the kids marry rich.