#marriage isn’t really a prison

[doctorstarlock]

Marriage is a prison until I hear a man say that then I’m like “oh so you’re too immature to know how to do the emotional work to make a long term commitment last and be a source of joy and support? Embarrassing for you.”

[luveline]

hey jade! maybe this is a tad more angsty than you'd like but could I request prison!Spence getting a visit from bombshell!reader and Amy? or a phonecall with them? q

ty for your request <3 mom!reader, 1.4k

“Best behaviour,” you’re whispering, hand on Amy’s small back, her shoe digging into your hip. “I’m serious, baby. Big feelings are okay, but we can’t be loud. We can’t shout.” 

She frowns. Amy’s been a little against you these last few weeks. “I’m not shouting.” 

“I know.” You try and fail to divide your attention between her and the line you’re following. You almost miss the sound of the buzzer that ushers you forward. “Okay, I’m right here. I know everything has been super scary, and you’re my brave girl, but I’m right here. You can tell me anything. Okay?” 

She rubs your chin with her nose. “Okay, mom.”

“Okay. Let’s go see daddy!” you cheer under your breath, enthusing your voice with some false joy. 

Your nerves threaten to make you sick, but you have to be the put together one. This is the strife part of the marriage you’d signed up for. Though no one can blame you for handling it poorly —who could ever expect Spencer to be where he is right now? 

You carry Amy into the penitentiary visitor’s room with apprehension, shoulders stiff, fingers aching against your little girl’s rough denim jacket. The room is laid out strangely, but there’s a clear division between the prisoners and the visitors, though there’s no overarching perspex. There are dividers, sure, but you can touch him. You can see him sitting near the middle of the room, his hair in violent disarray, his eyes locked onto you already. 

You speed up your walking. 

Desperate, your knee knocks into a chair as you try to touch his face. 

Spencer lets you for a half a second, before he moves away. “You’re not allowed to touch me,” he says, voice laden with a raw apologeticness that threatens to trip you up immediately. 

“Daddy!” Amy says, squirming in your arms, her foot on the desk as she tries to shove herself over the short partition. 

Spencer, in a dads instinct, reaches for her without thinking. “Amy, Amy,” he says. 

“No touching!” a guard shouts clearly. 

Spencer pushes Amy gently back into your arms and holds his arms up in surrender. The guard veers his way, but walks off again when he sees Spencer’s compliance. 

“Daddy,” she whines, holding out her hand. 

“Sit down,” Spencer says to you. 

You sit down. The gap between both you and Amy and Spencer widens, her little legs pumping restlessly into your thighs. You’ll be bruised as a soft pear when you go home, but you barely feel it now. 

“Shh,” you say, wrapping your arms around her like a straight jacket. You don’t really have a choice. “Shh, baby, shh. Remember what mommy said, okay? We have to be quiet, or they won’t let us see your daddy anymore. We have to follow the rules.” 

“It’s okay,” Spencer says. He clears his throat. “Hey, Amanda?” 

She looks up in surprise at her full first name. “What?” she asks. 

“God, it’s so good to see you.” His voice thickens with emotion, but he keeps a tight handle on it. “I miss you so much, sweetheart. So much.” He looks at you. “I miss you,”  he says again. 

“We miss you too.” You wipe your nose. “It’s weird just being mom and Amy at home.” 

Weird isn’t the right word. Amy has cried herself sick five nights a week for the last month, because if her mom is home, why isn’t her dad? Why can’t she talk to him? Where did he go? 

“When can you be home?” Amy asks, reaching toward the glass again. 

Spencer looks around the room before he reaches over the half-partition to hold her hand. He gives you a look: watch my back. 

“I don’t know yet,” he says, holding her hand tightly, and giving her fingers little squeezes, “I’m sorry, princess.” 

You give him a look of your own: change the subject. 

You miss Spencer more than you’ve ever missed another person. There’s never been a feeling as acute as this in your life, you don’t know what to do with yourself when you aren’t with him. The only thing you can do is be Amy’s mom, and you’ve always felt that Spencer made you better at it. Without him, you’re struggling. 

He looks like he can tell. 

He diverts his attention from you to Amy again, ducking his head, his face posed into his most loving smile. “You’re so pretty, just like your mommy. You’re getting prettier every day, aren’t you? Mommy told me you’ve been helping make your own dinner. That’s amazing. You’re my smart girl.” 

“I make– made our favourite last night.” She struggles over ‘favourite’, but she’s as smart as her father. The words come easily. “We had, uh– butter chicken! And mommy made…” 

You blink a small tear from the corner of your eye. “I made garlic naan. We toasted them under the grill, didn’t we?” you ask with a sniffle. 

“Yes!” She looks back at you. “Dad’s plate.” 

You wipe your cheek quickly. “We kept you some,” you say, fighting as hard as you can to stop yourself from crying at the table. You can’t break down here, and you won’t. “Amy was worried you’d come home and be hungry, so we saved you some.” 

Spencer leans far over the table to squeeze your wrist. Behind him, the prison guard begins making their way to your table.

“Spencer.” You lean away before he can get caught. 

Spencer snatches his hand back to grip the partition. 

He smiles. “Angel,” he says clearly, looking you straight in the eye, “you’re doing so good. I can’t believe how amazing you are.” 

“I’m gonna fix this,” you promise. 

“No, no, angel, I just need you to look after yourself, and my princess.” He gives Amy a smile dripping with affection. “She needs lots of looking after. Don’t you, Amy? I know mommy’s doing such a great job looking after you.” 

“I miss you,” she says. 

“I miss you too.” 

“Can I have a hug now?” 

He looks back, right into the watchful gaze of the guard. He turns back with a smile that’s nearly convincing. “Not right now, I probably don’t smell very nice, and they don’t want me to get my gross smell on you.” 

“Ew, daddy.” 

“Ew,” he agrees, wrinkling his nose. “I wish I smelled like you and mommy. What smell is it today, baby?” 

“Persimmon,” she says. She preens at the suggestion that she smells good, relaxing against your chest. 

You kiss her temple. 

“Persimmon,” Spencer says. He couldn’t sound more proud. “You know what? Persimmons have lots of meaning. They’re a symbol of perseverance.” He remembers to dumb it down. “People who eat lots of persimmons are strong, they can get through anything. Maybe when you and mommy go home, you can share a persimmon, and I can eat one here, and together we’ll be strong while we wait for me to come home.” 

“You can come home now,” Amy says. “Come home with us!” 

“I can’t,” he says gently. “It’s complicated.” 

“I think daddy has the right idea,” you say, interrupting his explanation unapologetically, “I think we should go to the market when we leave and pick all the different fruits, and I’ll send some for dad here, and we can eat them at the same time.” 

“Like a picnic?” 

“I can make little sandwiches, and we’ll get your teddies,” you agree. “Whatever you want. But first, I think you need to tell daddy all about this week. What book have we been reading? Oh, and we got you some new shoes ‘cos your feet got bigger!” 

He smiles lovingly. “Oh, they did?” he asks softly. 

You know he’s gutted.

(Spencer gets out of prison almost two whole months later. He gives Amy a huge box of tangerines (with the white lie that they are persimmons, hard to find in DC, and your sweet girl doesn’t know the difference yet) with a new pair of converse wrapped in a red silk bow, promising that he will never miss another fitting. He doesn’t know where to start with you, that much is obvious, he’s so grateful to be home and he’s sick to his stomach with guilt, too. He doesn’t realise the only thing you needed was for him to come back. 

The diamond necklace is a nice gesture, though not half as valuable as his face pressed to your neck as he sleeps, Amy on his stomach, their long fingers sticky with orange peels. It makes all your silent crying worth it.)

[krysmcscience]

It’s finally done, guys – five whole pages of Narilamb AU comic AND MORE be upon you! (If you have trouble reading any of the text, view the full-size! These pages are huge!)

Yeesh, this took forever. <:)

There’s probably a ton of inconsistencies and anatomy/perspective wonkeries, but this was mostly just comic practice, so Oh Hekkin Well, Lol <:D

(Yes, I am aware the Gateway’s door isn’t present in the Afterlife, and the actual way in is just a pentagram portal. Yes, I put the door in there anyway because Artistic License, i.e. it felt more impactful for there to be a prison door of sorts to walk through to freedom, rather than just a bland boring portal on the ground. 😠)

anyway, i hate backgrounds so much lmao

Alternate ending and a buttload of bonus art under the cut, followed by goofy AU rambles and headcanon stuff:

I’m calling it the Revival AU. It’s not all that creative a title, and someone else has probably used it already, but I am too lazy to really care, LOL

Alternate ending page, which you will Definitely need to view the full-size for, Whoopsie Daisy:

The alternate ending was actually the first ending I finished things off with, because I had a brief badbrain moment where I forgot the emotional beat I initially wanted the comic to end on, and I tend to write comedy, anyway. I later remembered and drew out the proper ending, but I preserved and finished this one, too, because it still makes me giggle.

They had to go back for the followers off-screen in the AU’s real ending. And by ‘they’ I mean just the Lamb, because they weren’t about to ask three newly freed cats to go back into what used to be their prison. The Lamb DID spend some time watching Narinder and the bois enjoying the outdoors first, though:

In other news, here’s the Lamb and me making fun of my anatomy-drawing ‘skills’:

Meanwhile, if you’re wondering why the Lamb is just a-okay with how things went down vis a vis Their Murder, this bonus comic should answer at least some of your questions:

Ah, yes, also this is how they get engaged outside of the alternate ending. Forgot to mention that bit. XD (I already refuse to believe that Narinder is capable of flirting normally, so why would his initial marriage proposal be any better???)

Oh, and before any of them get a chance to actually head back to the cult grounds, there is one potential problem:

And by ‘problem’ I mean something Narinder intends to ignore for At Minimum a thousand years. Cuz he’s a petty bitch like that. :D

what do you mean i drew the lamb too tall compared to the background? clearly they’re standing on top of baal and aym lmao, why else would you think those two aren’t in this one??? (aym and baal got way too excited about finally being outside, you see, and their silly modes are nothing to sneeze at)

And, speaking of heading back to the cult grounds, I’m sure y’all would love to know how the Lamb’s followers felt about the brand new change in management:

It all went better than expected. <:D Tiny ramble now, feel free to skip down to the next comic.

Before you ask, no, the Lamb does not have any actual powers anymore, other than the immortality Narinder definitely grants them. The Red Crown just thinks it’s funny to suggest otherwise, and Narinder does nothing to discourage this. Also, the Lamb and Narinder aren’t actually married here yet, but, uh. Pretty safe to say that particular ritual directly follows the events of this comic. XD

Given how quickly he mellows out in canon, Narinder probably chills out a lot in this AU once he’s in charge of the cult, too, if only because 1.) He’s finally free, and 2.) He’s equally smitten with and distracted by the Lamb. He’s definitely in charge at least 95% of the time, though, because the Lamb never actually wanted to be a cult leader and, now that their time as a vessel is done, they just want to be a normal(ish) sheep who’s wholly devoted to their hot new divine husband.

Some followers do still have some valid concerns about these two being together, though, which I’m sure at least a few of you might share…

Unfortunately for any such concerns, the Lamb is a bonafide masochist in this AU. :D

They’re also 100% a sub, obviously

Anyone at all: Your relationship is problematic and potentially toxic

The Lamb: fuck yeah it is, it’s so hot~ OuO

Here’s just the last panel, made transparent for whatever nefarious purposes y’all might have for it:

Additional exchange Narinder and the Lamb have at some point, probably after the Lamb does a fatal whoopsie while out on a mission trip or in response to things getting a little too sadistic in the bedroom, ahaha:

Look, there is a very important distinction between life and death, and if you don’t understand that, then you’re probably not worthy of being the God of Death, anyway. (At least, according to Narinder, and ONLY Narinder.)

Last but not least, have these shittens:

~Such creative naming conventions I have utilized, lololol~ :D Anyway, there's a few deets on them in the rambles down below.

The rest is all ramble, so before I get to that, I’ll just say – likes and especially reblogs are very much appreciated!!! :D If you happen to really really REALLY like my stuff, meanwhile, I do have a link in my bio to my ko-fi page, where I’m accepting commissions and donations if you’re especially generous… ÓuÒ

Now, BE FREE IF YOU AIN’T DOWN FOR READING MY GOOFY RAMBLES

First ramble is re: Baal’s question of ‘Did it really work?’, since I didn’t feel like expanding on it in the comic proper, and it’s arguably pretty vague? He doesn’t ask because he doubts Narinder or his capabilities, exactly, but because neither Baal nor Aym have ever actually seen their god at full power before (he’s still technically not at full power here, either). It’s not expressly stated how soon the brothers were brought to Narinder after his imprisonment, but whether it was early on or after a length of time for Shamura to (somewhat) recover from his attack, he must have already been weakened, since I have no doubts that there was a huge battle that accompanied the Bishops working together to trap him. So, between that fight with all four of his siblings, sharing his power with a variety of vessels over time, and being chained immobile for a thousand years, he must have been severely weakened by the time he lent the Red Crown out to the Lamb, which would have only weakened him further.

I like to think this is how the Lamb is able to defeat him if they refuse to be sacrificed, despite how it took all four Bishops working together to subdue and chain Narinder in the first place.

All that aside, the three cats have been trapped in the Afterlife for so long that Baal also wanted verbal reassurance that they are all, indeed, actually able to leave it now – something that I headcanon isn’t possible without a significant amount of power (i.e. the Red Crown’s cooperation with its bearer/vessel).

(On a semi-related note, I don’t headcanon Aym and Baal as twins. I like sweetheart big bro Baal and snarky little goth bro Aym too much to have them be that close in age.)

Ah, teeny thing: If you noticed I switched up the art style for Narinder on the second page, that was intentional. It's sort of a visual indicator that there has been a Big Change for him - that being, how much power he has after sacrificing the Lamb. As for why I changed up his arms in the grass rollin' pic, I don't really subscribe to the notion that his arms are spooky bones because they're horrifically injured (beyond chain-chafing scars, that is), but rather just because he's the Bishop of Death, so he can change how normal-to-spooky they look at will. At some point I might doodle out how I imagine his appearance to range between least to most eldritch... 🤔

Next ramble, regarding Narinder’s feelings towards the Lamb...he was initially too focused on being freed from his imprisonment to form any real attachment to them. They were a tool for his use, first and foremost, but he did notice their intense devotion towards him. It was impossible not to notice, because the Lamb was always very happy to see him, even if it was because they died during a crusade (yet again). He wasn’t originally planning to revive them once he was freed, either, because he saw no real point to it – after all, they were already dead when they first met him, just as any other mortal would be when meeting him in the Afterlife, so death has very little real consequence in his eyes. But, once the chains were off, and it really sank in that he stood to lose the most devoted follower he’s ever had, he decided…why put their soul to rest for good or leave them stuck in the Afterlife when he could just as easily revive them again? And why not reward them for their hard work, anyway? Not only would it cost him nothing by comparison, but the future devotion that could come of it would surely make up for his (bare minimum) effort in reviving them.

He wasn’t expecting to get a full dose of that devotion and a smiling face so soon after killing them, though~ :3c (because the Lamb is a bonafide freak, and not-so-secretly into the fucked up power dynamics going on here, lol)

I should mention here that I am firmly of the belief that any non-god/vessel who crosses through the Gateway and into the Afterlife just straight up dies. So, Aym and Baal? Also straight up dead, from the second Shamura brought them through. Their souls were just never put to rest so that Narinder could have some company – if only according to Shamura. Narinder kept the two around mostly out of bewilderment, because honestly, who are these kittens, and what is Shamura’s game here, anyway??? They never even explained anything, they just tossed these kittens into the Afterlife and LEFT!!! At any rate, Aym and Baal being dead is how I explain why their souls apparently become lost in the void if they’re killed, along with the added complications required to revive the two because of it.

So, with those deets in mind, and given a bit of time, if Narinder hadn’t chosen to revive the Lamb, and also hadn’t chosen to put their soul to rest, they still would have woken up at some point, despite being as straight up dead as Aym and Baal. Who, don’t worry, were also properly revived while Narinder was waiting for the Lamb to wake up. Because I am also firmly of the belief that, first, the dead cannot leave the Afterlife without the use of a ritual/relic (and can't stay in the living world for long regardless), and second, dead followers’ devotion isn’t anywhere near as potent as that of the living, given how much more the living stand to lose.

Final ramble, regarding the Lamb’s feelings towards Narinder, and why they’re so devoted to him…

Well, you don’t spend most of your life on the run with your steadily-dwindling herd, trying to evade the ongoing genocide of your species, without becoming a little fucked up in the head. Maybe a lot fucked up in the head. Life is suffering, so might as well have fun with it, right? Maybe start finding death and pain to be kind of hilarious, even a little bit hot, once everyone you know and love is dead and gone, leaving you all alone? And maybe after that, there’s something comforting in how, despite the cold, cruel uncertainties of life, at least you can always count on the inevitability of death, patiently waiting for you until your very last breath? Who knows. Either way, as soon as the Lamb was killed, and they learned that the literal God of Death was offering them a second chance at life and vengeance via effective immortality, they were 100% ride-or-die-devoted all at once. Turns out death is kinder than life – go figure. (Of course, it helps that Narinder is 100% their type.)

They weren’t put off by Narinder’s thinly-veiled sadism or manipulations, either – they’re not too different in those regards, albeit opting for vastly different methods. It’s a very ‘two sides of the same coin’ sort of deal. In order to stay alive once they were made the last of their kind, the Lamb had no qualms with using others to their advantage, and that did not change once they were revived and expected to run a cult. They didn’t care for the position of authority, though – being a sheep and all, they’re much more of a follower than a leader, and thus greatly appreciated Narinder’s need for control. With how they had to keep on their toes for so long, the Lamb was also pretty good at reading people by the time they died, so they could recognize that a lot of Narinder’s posturing was just that – posturing. Dude’s 95% bluster and only 5% bite. He could obviously be vicious when he wanted or needed to (the Bishops' injuries were clear proof of that), but underneath his outer layer of cruelty was a generous layer of tsundere, and underneath all THAT was a soft squishy middle sibling velcro cat in desperate need of attention and affection.

(Which, for the record, he Did Not feel comfortable getting from Aym and Baal – Narinder still has no idea why the fuck Shamura sent them to him, beyond acting as keepers at best or trying to sabotage his attempts to escape at worst. Which, he thought HE sabotaged in turn, by guiding the kittens into being his devoted disciples instead. He thought he was very clever for it. ‘I outsmarted Shamura!’ he thought, despite that there was never anything there to outsmart. ‘What do you mean, Shamura sent your kittens to me for company?’ he demands of Forneus later. It may or may not lead him to pull Shamura out of Purgatory just so he can shake them and scream about how they should have Fucking Explained that!!!)

But, getting back on track as to why the Lamb was so willing to be sacrificed, I cannot stress this enough – if you pay even a minimal amount of attention to what he’s saying, Narinder is REALLY NOT SUBTLE about his intentions. ‘Death is of little consequence.’ ‘Followers are for you to use to your advantage.’ ‘Sacrifice a follower to absorb more power.’ So, yeah, the Lamb knew exactly what would be expected of them once the other Bishops were dead. They knew Narinder would expect them to die for him one last time. But, after all, death is of little consequence (not to mention hot), so when the time came, they wanted to see him freed, even if it meant oblivion for them in the end.

He’d given them a second life, and the ability to avenge their kin, and they felt indebted to him for that – so, while they were still pretty glum about the possibility that they might not get to see him free of his chains, nothing beyond their devotion and debt to him mattered. They never wanted all the drama and expectations that came with the Red Crown’s power, anyway, so, better for Narinder to have it back so that he could deal with it. What he did with the Lamb afterward would be up to him, and seeing as he was their god, they’d accept his decision gladly.

Were they in love with him by that point? Oh, obsessively so, but only in the devotional sense – romance was nowhere on their mind nor radar. That is, until he unexpectedly revived them again, told them he still needed them, and then offered down his hand to help them up.

The Lamb fell HARD for him in that moment. :3c

And now, a tiny shitten ramble. Lu and Li are twins, because sheep tend to have those a lot, and are conceived not long after the Lamb and Narinder’s marriage ceremony. Lu is the minutes older one, but Li is much more mature. I have put no further thought into these two, other than that they are utter menaces, birthed by the Lamb, cling hard to both their parents but especially Narinder (who spoils them rotten), and they are both genderfluid, using whichever pronouns/names they feel like at any given time. They are also both intersex, same as the Lamb, who was initially infertile up until Something Something Vague Magic, which I have also put no further thought into ¯\_(シ)_/¯

oh, and before anyone tries to suggest i headcanon this AU’s lamb as trending more female due to them giving birth or whatever, no, no, a thousand times no, they might have a vag, but they've also got a dick, and even if it's not as big as they'd like, they still know how to use it

Finally, the very tentative name for the Lamb in this AU is Yazdi, which is really just another name for the Baluchi breed of sheep XD (Not that the Lamb is this specific breed, I just didn’t like any of the other sheep-related names I found, ahaha...)

THAT’S ALL FOR NOW (collapses into an exhausted pile of goopy limbs)

[thirteenducks]

feverish

(wriothesley x wife!reader) [sfw]

༻❁༺ content: fem!reader (reader is referred to by ‘wife’ and "she/her"), established relationship, marriage, reader has hair long enough to reach neck

༻❁༺ word count: ~1.5k

༻❁༺ tags: sickfic, banter while sick, this is just wrio taking care of you and being a butt while doing it, feat. sigewinne who does not get paid enough for this, if you are sick and reading this rn im so sorry and i hope you get well soon, coldsink wrio x heatsource wife agenda

༻❁༺ author’s note: my friend @mmmairon is sick and i am in another country and cannot help so i'm sending wrio on my behalf. pls enjoy especially if you don't feel well right now :(

After a restless night, Wriothesley is thrilled to hear that you're awake now. He wastes no time in rushing to your side.

Wriothesley’s pen scratches unpleasantly against a disciplinary notice, its point threatening to carve into the wood of the desk beneath. The owner mutters darkly under his breath as he completes a signature on the offending paper and slides it to his left. Immediately, another takes its place from the stack on his right.

For two hours, nothing else has broken the quiet of the Duke’s office. Two hours too long, by Wriothesley’s measure. He glances at the clock, hand continuing to sign his name by sheer muscle memory.

Are you getting any rest? Did the chamomile from your tea an hour ago help at all, or are the throes of fever keeping you awake? Does he have the right ingredients to make you beef stew? Preoccupied, he writes “soup” on the signature line of a prisoner release form by mistake.

He sighs, pinching the crooked bridge of his nose between his fingers. They’re as cold as ever. He misses the warmth of yours unspeakably.

The next thirty minutes pass like an eternity. Surely, Sigewinne would be at his side in an instant if you were awake. His presence there now would only serve to wake you from much-needed rest and defer his backlog of paperwork even more. Neither of these points keeps him from staring the clock down like he’s in the ring again.

Suddenly, there’s a quiet knock on his door and Wriothesley snaps to attention, nearly knocking over an inkwell in his haste. Sigewinne enters without his bidding, an unreadable expression on her kind face. She doesn’t wait for his question before she answers it.

“Yes, the tea put her to sleep, and yes, she’s awake now.”

His features relax in a moment, the furrow in his brow smoothing.

“I’m afraid she’s not any better than she was this morning, however. I would have really liked to see her fever come down by now...” The Melusine trails off, her small hand on her chin and a pout on her face. “The chill probably isn’t doing her much good, either.”

Her boss, however, is already halfway downstairs, pulling his coat on as he takes the steps two at a time. Sigewinne sighs as she turns to follow him at a much slower pace. So predictable when his wife is involved.

In contrast to the speed at which he crosses the fortress to your shared living quarters, Wriothesley’s steps are soft as he nears your bedroom door.

“Sweetheart? Are you up?”

A weak cough answers him. He’s by the bedside in a moment, kneeling and pushing aside the curtain that hides you from him. Your eyes squint a bit as the sickly light of the fortress filters in, and his hand moves up to shield your face as he appears in your field of vision.

Despite the red ringing your eyes and nose and the congestion in your breathing, you smile up at him and his heart almost jumps out of his chest.

“Hi, darling.”

The side of his mouth quirks up. “Hi. Feeling any better?”

You shake your head slightly, your hair fanning out on the pillow beneath you. He silently gathers it in one hand and moves it away from your neck as he waits for you to continue. The brush of his cool hand against your flushed skin feels incredible and you bring your hand to rest on his, a silent entreaty to keep it there.

“Sigewinne says I’m in the worst of it now and that from here-” you stop to cough, Wriothesley’s eyes raking over your frame as it shakes with the effort. “-from here it should be uphill. As long as I can rest up today.”

He pushes the hair back from your forehead with his other hand, stroking it absentmindedly. “Well, we’ll have to stick it out until tomorrow then, huh?” The grin he shoots you, all teeth, does more for you than you think any of the medicine on your bedside table has.

That’s why you’re as surprised as he is when the tears start to roll down your cheeks. You hadn’t even known they were there until now, but suddenly it’s so much harder to breathe than it was and Wriothesley is a swimming blur in front of you. The shooting pain in your head, dulled to an ache until now, comes back in full force as your body curls in on itself and your temple meets your husband’s shoulder.

You don’t know if you’re crying from the headache, from exhaustion, or from something else, and your mind is too foggy to care. All you can do is be held as his arms come to rest firmly around you and he pulls you to him, murmuring words of comfort.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry... I wish I could do more.” Your hands grip his collar a little tighter as you sob into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “I know, love. You’ll feel better soon, I promise. Sigewinne and I are gonna take care of everything, okay?”

There’s an edge of concern to his voice that you can hear even through the haze of sickness. You hate it. It’s likely just the seasonal flu; half the Fortress has had it at some point this winter. The thought of how much you were making him worry over something so small as this...

“I know what you’re thinking. Stop it,” Wriothesley gently reprimands, his cool fingers stroking your forehead again. You can feel the cold metal of his wedding ring against the heated skin. “You’re not being a baby about anything. You hear me?”

Your silence speaks volumes. He laughs a little, the sound loud in the silence of your bedroom. “I know you well, don’t I?”

It takes a while for your tears to completely subside. When you’re finished sniffling against his collar, he props you up against the headboard with pillows behind your back. You’re more congested than ever, something your husband has the nerve to laugh at as he hands you tissues, but there’s no unkindness in his tone.

He disappears into the kitchen for a few minutes as you doze, exhausted from the effort of crying for so long. When he eases the door open again, he’s carrying a tray with a teacup and pot (of course) and a bowl of something that smells warm and comforting.

“Hmm. Excellent room service this place has. The waiter is a little scruffy, though,” you say as Wriothesley places it on your lap, tucking in the covers around you.

He gives you a fake look of injury. “How dare you, ma’am. I’ll have you know I’m too worried about my wife to shave, who I’m afraid is deathly ill,” he sighs, stroking the stubble on his jaw. He spoons soup into your mouth before you can retort, stifling a smile.

Once you’ve drained half the soup, Wriothesley seems satisfied. He removes the tray from your lap and takes your hand, bringing it to his own forehead.

“Oh, no. How awful.” He shoots you a glance. “It appears the Duke of the Fortress has come down with something.”

You raise an eyebrow. His forehead is as cool as the rest of him is. “Really.”

“Oh, yes,” he says, flopping onto your lap. “It looks like he’ll be out of the office for the rest of the day.”

You laugh, wincing when it makes your head throb. “The Duke sounds like a slacker, if you ask me.”

“Well, everyone knows that,” Wriothesley murmurs, burying his face into your thigh. “They’ll have to tell my boss about it.” You feel him grin against your leg.

You sigh, feigning exasperation. “What a shame. I was just about to ask him to dinner, too.”

Wriothesley has migrated to his side of the bed by now and is nestling into your side with the stubbornness of a dog. “Don’t worry, I hear he’s a messy eater. Absolute carnivore.”

Your hands come to rest on his head, the soft grey strands tickling your palms. “You know you’re going to get sick, right? I’m highly contagious.”

No answer.

“You’re the head of the Fortress, Wrio. If you get laid up, Sigewinne might put a bounty out on you. She seems like the type.”

Your husband murmurs into your side, already half-asleep. “She’ll have to catch me first.”

Despite your many blankets and the body next to you, a sudden chill runs through you and you stiffen. He feels it, arms tightening around your waist.

“Fever pills are on the bedside in the white bottle. Water is next to it.”

You smile. “Thank you, darling.” He hums in response.

A few days later, you’re well enough to leave your room again. Sigewinne would be thrilled, if not for your husband, who looks more smug than any sick man has a right to be.

He sniffles, burrowing into your sheets again as the Melusine glares daggers at him. “I’ll be fine. My wife loves me and I have leftover soup in the fridge. What else does a man need?”

[perlelune]

could we get an update on coryo and reader in no body, no crime? like maybe during her pregnancy or after she gives birth?

Another painful smile is nudged onto your lips as you unwrap Clemensia’s gift. It’s all you’ve done the entire morning. Sit in the living room like a dutiful wife while pretending you don’t feel sick every time someone compliments you on how well pregnancy suits you or what a gorgeous couple the two of you are.

The baby shower is just another well-crafted punishment by him. Yet another way to flaunt his victory in your face. Remind you that you’re to be a prisoner and him the jailor for the rest of your life.

“That’s so thoughtful of you, Clemmie,” you chime wryly as you consider the music box. It portrays two lovers entwined, twirling whenever the golden key on the side is turned.

She beams at you.

“You’re welcome. I saw it and thought of you two and your beautiful love story.”

“Our beautiful love story…” you mumble, your fingers tightening to the point of pain around the woodens edges of the box. You grow dizzy. Clemensia continues cheerfully, unaware of your shift in mood, “You know Liv is boiling with rage right now. That’s why she didn’t come.” She giggles and bends over your shoulder to share, “She’s had her eye on Coriolanus since he came back walking and behaving all differently.”

“You’re the luckiest girl in all of Panem,” she elates, squeezing your hands in hers. 

A wave of queasiness overtakes you, even worse than your bouts of morning nausea.

You bolt to your feet, the well of pretense running dry within you.

“If you’ll excuse me. I’m not feeling too well…”

“But we haven’t cut the cake yet,” Clemensia pouts.

“You can do it without me,” you answer evasively as you waddle away from her. It’s all you can manage these days. Waddle around the penthouse like a duck with how swollen your belly is.

“Sweetie…” your mother hails you as you make your way up the stairs.

“I need to pee, Ma,” you icily reply. 

The smile dies on your mother’s face as you brush past her. Six months ago, this would have stirred your guilt. Not any longer. Your life is ruined and Ma welcomed the monster responsible into her arms like a son.

Your isolation to the bedroom upstairs is soon interrupted by your husband sneaking up behind you.

“Pregnancy looks good on you, princess,” he purrs as he wraps his arms around your midriff. His mouth grazes against your temple. “Everyone’s missing you at the party.”

“Well, I can only pretend this marriage isn’t a total farce for so long,” you reply, making no effort to conceal the visceral hate sizzling through you.

“Only because you’re being difficult,” Coriolanus points out softly, his large hands sweeping over your baby bump. “You don’t have to fight me at every step.”

You whirl abruptly. 

“You took everything from me,” you hiss, irate tears welling up in your eyes. “My future-”

He gives a derisive snort. “I gave you a future. You really thought you had one with this pathetic wastrel?”

Your head grows hot with the insult. He has no right to mention him.

Your gaze narrows. “Even lying in the ground, he is more man than you’ll ever be, Coriolanus Snow.”

His blue eyes flare dangerously. His fingers cinch around your wrists, a wicked grin breaking out on his face. Your bones grind against one another as pain pulses through your wrists.

“Is he now? Do you want me to show you how much of a man I am?”

Your heart bounces as your husband drags you against your will and shoves you on the bed.

“Don’t,” you say squirming underneath him. There’s a disquieting emptiness in his blue gaze as he removes his belt and loops it around your hands to bind you to the headboard. A tragically familiar chill settles in your bones when he pulls his pants down and frees his hard cock.

“Since you’re so concerned about it…” your husband grunts, piercing your dry folds with his thick tip. His hand over your mouth stifles the scream building in your throat. He sinks inside you and your entire body comes alight with pain. Coriolanus plants tender kisses alongside your neck as he begins to move. The mattress squeaks with each of his sharp, brutal thrusts. “I’ll show you exactly how man I am, princess.”

[marisatomay]

I really find saying to any LGBT person “You know, being gay is illegal in Palestine and you can be put to death for it” to be such a contemptible, smug thing to throw in our faces because, first of all, Palestine follows the old *British* codes from when they were under Britain’s colonial thumb, so any conversation about the social laws and norms of Palestine must include their long colonial past. Furthermore, LGBT people are killed everywhere. If you don’t pass enough, if you’re too faggy for some bigot to stomach, if you happen to be born into an unaccepting family, society, it can mean death for any LGBT person, anywhere in the world. And, for the record, gay marriage isn’t exactly legal in Israel either. But, most importantly—and this may come as a shock to some but—I believe in my heart that every single Palestinian could be a raging homophobe and/or transphobe who hates me and I STILL don’t think that means they should be slaughtered by the thousands in the open air prison they’re kept in because they live in an apartheid state. Human rights are unconditional. If you disagree then fix your heart or die.

[seireitonin]

can you do Jason the toymaker hcs? :( he's really my favoriteeeees

Hehehehe yeth I luv him! But be warned I HC his and LJ’s lives intertwining and I have a whole story for them in my head so some of these hcs will be that! (After reading this is more of a story bc I got carried away bc I never get to yap about these 2 sorry if this isn’t what you wanted! I can redo it!)

Jason The Toymaker hcs:

Jason Meyer was born in the 1800s

1830 specifically

He’s the son of the Meyer Estate

One of the richest families on that side of Europe

They had servants all around, so Jason always got what he wanted when he wanted, making him entitled to attention and things going his way

He was used to getting all attention from both of his parents since he was the only child

1850 he was 20 years old and his parents wanted him to get married and have children so Jason could take over and carry on the legacy

He showed no interest in marriage or having a family though, much more interested in his hobby of toy making

His parents didn’t understand why, but let him do it anyway hoping he’d show interest in starting a family and becoming the man of the estate

Jason was always different though

He’s always been pretty cold, calculating, entitled and jealous

If something is not what he wants or not about him he will show zero interest and disregard it

Jason is also very cruel

But he puts on a good mask and facade

He’s nice to his servants, his family and everyone around him, even if he doesn’t feel anything

Laughing Jack heard the rumors and gossip about Jason from people around the city

About the red haired toymaker who obsessively made toys and dolls instead of looking to marry

LJ at this point, was forced to kill Issac after escaping the prison that was his box

He was still holding onto the innocence he once had

Laughing Jack, desperate to be fixed, goes to his home, showing up in his room, using his teleportation

Jason, feeling not much fear, stares at him. Even though LJ was closer to a god than Jason will ever be, it’s like he still had control over the energy of the room

That’s just how conceited he is

Seeing the half rainbow , half black and white clown man in front of him didn’t even make him break a sweat

“Who are you? Why do you think your presence is allowed in my estate? Something as…repulsive as you?”

“Fix me. I ‘ear that’s all you’re good at.”

“Oh? A broken toy who requires my skills….insults me in my estate? Why would I even touch you? Let alone help you?”

“Because I can kill you where you’re standin’”

“Oh God, I can’t take those threats to heart when you speak to me so atrociously….who taught you to speak? An animal? I’ll rip your throat out and replace it so you can speak like you’re civilized, if you’d like”

Jason said with a sly smirk. He looks down on everyone even something literally sent from the heavens.

Laughing Jack being violent and unpredictable, stabs Jason in the arm, giggling violently

“Wanna fix that?”

LJ covers Jasons mouth with his hand before he can make a sound of pain and alert anyone

“Listen hea’ fire crotch, youa’ goin’ to fix me. goin’ turn me back to what I wuz. Or I skin you alive and wrap it ‘round one of them dolls you got hea? You got it?”

Jason laughs into his hand and nods. This is the rush and excitement he needs

“Agreed, clown thing”

Jason pushes Jack off of him

“One thing though. If you’re going to be around me, you will learn the proper way of speaking. You will learn the correct dialect and pronunciation. Understood? I’m not listening to that dribble.”

LJ glares and gives a half sharp toothed and half normal toothed evil grin

“No promises, fire crotch.”

“Stop saying that. It’s perverted.”

Jason took a good look at the new job in front of him

Jacks tan skin contrasting with his pure white skin along with his black and white clown outfit clashing with his rainbow side of the outfit. It was so bad it made Jason’s stomach turn

“What’s your name Clown Thing?”

“Laughing Jack! Hea to be man’s best friend!” He says semi sarcasticly

Part of him knew that was his purpose, but seeing the evil of Issac and the time period in general made him doubt that

“Jason Meyer”

The next morning the two talk

“What are you?”

“Uhh good question. Let’s go with demon fah now”

Jason cringed as LJs way of speaking

“Hmph fine. Okay demon. What’s wrong with you?”

“See dis rainbow side? Gotta get back to dat!”

“How do you expect me to do that?”

“You’re da expert!”

“My God.”

Jason put his head in his hands

“How’d you get this way anyhow?”

“Mmm loss of innocence and heart maybe? Dunno!”

“So…..you need….a heart?” Jason smiled evilly. He knew exactly where to get one

This woman who he found beautiful, had the audacity to reject the love he offered her

Jason’s version of love is attention on him at all times

She didn’t provide

So he’ll put her heart to good use

After cutting her chest open and taking her heart, LJ had ended up on Jason’s toy making table on his back with his chest split open

Letting Jason insert what he thought was missing

A heart

As LJ was getting stitched back up he spoke for the first time sadly and genuinely

“Think this’ll work?”

“…..Who knows Clown Thi-….Jack”

That was the closest Jason’s ever going to get to saying he feels bad for someone else

It didn’t work, but Jason decided to keep Jack around anyway

But Jason’s cruel personality with a nice facade rubbed off on him

Making LJ behave the way he did

Cruel with a nice mask

The heart that was put in LJ began to rot, almost making him colder

He had lost all his colors by this point

Which Jason found fascinating

A living toy that adapts to its owner, whoever that may be?

He had to keep Jack around and study him, re create something just like him

“Your speech is bearable to listen to now. Who taught you how to speak before?”

“Him…Issac.”

“Ah I see you adapted to his speech patterns….now you’re adapting to mine. Simply fascinating.”

“Don’t think you own me, fire crotch.”

“I’ll think what I’d like, clown thing.”

One of Jasons servants came to announce that Jasons parents are hosting a ball to find Jason a wife

Irritated, he goes to talk with them

“Mother, Father. Why are you so desperate for me to marry? You’re both going to live long and watch the estate, yes?”

They tell him it’s the role he has to take as the man of the estate and to carry on their legacy

He obviously can’t change their minds so he found himself being pampered for the ball

“Ridiculous.”

“Have fun, Jason”

“Oh no. You’re coming with me.”

“Why? I’m not the one who needs a wife here!”

“Because I’ll be bored.”

“Awe! You need me?”

“Shut it clown thing!”

So the attend together

No one can see Jack except for Jason

As they both watched the festivities and Jason made small talk with the guests and Jack giggled at him

“Good to see you smile.”

“Bite your tongue”

Jack was people watching while Jason spoke. His eyes widened as he saw the monster beautiful woman he had laid eyes on.

“Jason. Jason!”

He tugged at his sleeve

“What?! What?!”

Who’s that woman?”

“The daughter of the Carrington estate?”

“No! The one next to her!”

“The….servant?”

“Yes”

Jason’s eyes widened as he looked at the woman’s dark skin and curly black hair

“You want…the servant? That’s ridiculous! However…. Fascinating. You can feel attraction despite not being human…..I want to study it further. Besides, if I marry the Carrington daughter, it’ll get everyone to stop asking.”

“Whatever. I don’t care much about your human stuff.”

So Jason marries her, requesting that her servant lives in his estate for Jack to interact with

Jason tolerates her, not really interested

But Jack and the servant get along just fine, despite how he looks. She related to society treating her less than because of how she looked

Jason continued his toy making in peace

Until he saw how Jack and his new friend were getting along so well and became jealous

He didn’t understand why he cared. Maybe it was because Jack was his friend first?

Jason was always an extremely jealous person. Nothings changed

Maybe if he was magical like Jack, they could be friends again

So impulsive and jealous he went to Jack and demanded from him “Make me like you.”

“What?”

“I fixed you. Made you better. Do the same for me.”

“I don’t know how.”

“You do.”

Jason sliced open his own chest, knowing Jack could fulfill his request

Jack, not wanting him to die, shoves the box he was created in, into the open wound Jason created

Jason gained his powers from it

“Impulsive and jealous are we?”

“……”

Jason didn’t want to admit it, but he was extremely jealous that Jack was getting taken away from him and would do anything to keep him

Jacks ego was bigger than it had ever been knowing that and hanging around Jason and picking up parts of his personality didn’t help that

Jason stopped being human that day and didn’t regret it at all

He started making dolls out of humans because humans are beneath him

Starting with his wife

Jason is 6’4

He demands attention on him at all times

Are him and Jack boyfriends? Who knows?

Who cares?

They feed off each others attention and they love it

[f1-stuff]

VICTORIAN CHARLOS ROYALTY ABO you have sent me into chaotic overdrive with that sentence oh boy am I excited to read that!!!!!!!! Thank you to your brain as always

Hehe I'm glad you're excited!! So am I... 😏 which is why I'm going to share a bit of it now!!! 😝 (sometimes, I simply can't help myself)

For some exposition, Charles is the crown prince of Monaco and an omega, Carlos is the alpha son of a Spanish duke (but distantly in line for the throne, which also makes him a prince). Their meeting has been arranged by carlos' father & cousin and charles' uncle, which makes this a sort of arranged marriage AU, except that Charles still gets to choose his husband in the end. Charles is almost twenty-one, and he's looking forward to certain freedoms that will award him. All of this was inspired by The Young Victoria (2009).

Behold, a 1.8k-word snippet:

Charles’ eyes scan over the chess board, carefully considering his next move. He can feel the looks of the rest of their party burning into the side of his face. He glances sideways to confirm his suspicions, and notes several people averting their eyes in a hurry.

When he looks back to Carlos, the other man is giving him a conspiratorial smile. Charles sighs, his lips curving up at the edges as he settles on moving his rook.

Ever since their walk earlier that afternoon, Charles’ feelings have...softened slightly toward the Spaniard. He much prefers when the man isn’t feeding him answers that he believes Charles will like, and luckily, it seems they’ve mostly done away with that nonsense now. There’s no doubt that Carlos is...handsome. Or that his scent seems designed to tempt Charles. But he’s smart enough to know that Carlos has his own motivations for being here, and that it would benefit him and his family very much indeed if they were to wed. Charles has no intention of finding a mate yet, not when his freedom is so close at hand.

As Carlos decides on his next move, Charles’ face begins to burn once again from the others’ returned stares. His jaw clenches.

“Do you ever feel like a chess piece yourself? In a game being played against your will?” He doesn’t bother to lower his voice. It would likely be futile, not to mention that he would welcome his words having a shaming effect on their company. If only. 

Carlos’ curious gaze rises to meet his own. He takes a moment to respond, brows furrowing as he considers Charles’ words.

“I hadn’t thought of it. But I suppose so, yes.”

“I do, constantly,” he sighs. “I feel their eyes assessing me, their fingers moving me round the board.”

“Your parents?”

“Everyone. My uncle, brother, advisors, politicians... They’re all ready to seize hold of me and drag me from square to square.” He chuckles to lighten the tone, and Carlos’ lips make an effort to smile, but fall short. 

Carlos glances over at the others, before his attention returns to the board and he finally makes his move. “Then, you had better master the rules of the game until you play it better than they can.” 

His eyes meet Charles’, and they hold there, candlelight flickering within their depths in a hypnotizing pattern. It feels like it takes all of Charles’ willpower to peel his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

“You don’t recommend I find an alpha husband to play it for me?” he asks, raising a brow as his rook takes Carlos’ pawn.

“I should find one to play it with you, not for you.”

Charles feels delighted surprise drip down his spine as he considers Carlos’ words. He’s never really...thought about marriage like that. It had always seemed like another prison he would be forced into. But if he were to choose a mate and a husband as an equal, someone who would play with him, like Carlos suggests...

They continue playing for a moment in silence, as Charles decides how to respond, but he’s been thrown off slightly, Carlos proving once again to be unexpected.

“You know, my father wants me to marry King Torger’s nephew, George.” He sees the flicker of distaste that flashes across Carlos’ face, and has to bite his lip not to laugh.

“Hm,” Carlos grunts, picking up his bishop. “What’s he like at chess?” He knocks Charles’ pawn aside, then looks up and grins.

Charles stifles a laugh, glancing over at his family. His uncle and mother are smiling contentedly down at their laps, his mother with her embroidery and his uncle with his newspaper. Charles’ good mood dims slightly, realizing how easily he’s playing into their hands by enjoying Carlos’ company.

And yet he can’t help the affection and attraction that simmers within him when he looks back at Carlos and the scent of dewy grass and fresh oranges caresses his nose, so refreshing compared to the usual dusty stale air of the drawing room.

He wins their first game because Carlos underestimates him, like so many others. But Carlos requests a second match, and this time, manages to take the win. The excited buzz of a good challenge fills Charles with a restless energy that he hasn’t felt in years, and they play a third game, then a fourth, and a fifth. Eventually, as the others are beginning to nod off in their chairs, they decide to retire for the evening.

He’s just taken Andrea’s hand to begin his ascent up the stairs when his name is called out behind him, followed almost immediately by that damn scent. Charles looks over his shoulder at Carlos, who almost appears out of breath, like he’d rushed to catch up to him. They had already said goodnight in the drawing room, but perhaps he’d thought of something else to tell Charles.

“It’s alright, Andrea. Carlos can take me up.” 

Andrea’s eyebrow twitches slightly with displeasure, but he would never protest. He steps aside, Carlos taking his place.

“You’ll have to hold my hand,” Charles explains. “It is a ridiculous precaution, but Maman insists.”

“Of course,” Carlos says, bowing slightly.

He offers his hand to Charles, who takes it after the briefest of hesitations. It’s the first time their skin has touched, and Charles suppresses the shiver that rolls through him.

For a moment, they simply stand there, feet unmoving, as Carlos’ thumb settles gently over his knuckles. His hand is warm and large, his fingers slightly calloused, from riding or shooting perhaps. He holds onto Charles’ fingers just tight enough to reassure, but not so tight as to entrap him. It’s a delicate balance, and Charles wonders how he’s managed to find that sweet spot so gracefully.

With some effort, Charles forces his feet to move, and they begin their climb.

“Did you want to tell me something?” he asks.

“Ask you, actually. Your father - he didn’t join us tonight.”

“Yes. He is...his health is poor,” Charles says, pushing through the sadness and worry to give Carlos a polite smile. “We...do not know how much longer he has.”

“Ah.” Carlos swallows, and in his gaze, Charles sees the man’s love for his own father. His brown eyes dip at the outer edges in sympathy. “I am very sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you,” he mutters.

“I would have loved to meet him.”

The sentiment makes Charles smile for real. He isn’t certain what his father would think of Carlos, but so far, there hasn’t been much to object on.

They climb a few more steps in silence, and only when they’re about to reach the top does Carlos speak again.

“I wanted to say that I may not entirely understand what you are going through, or just how much of a pawn you are feeling...” They pause on the landing. “But I know a bit of what it’s like to be moved around like a chess piece in someone else’s game. And I know a bit of what it’s like to feel as though your life is not your own.”

Charles studies him. He seems sincere, but it’s hard to imagine this alpha knows an ounce of what Charles has been through.

“Does your mother also assign someone to guide you up and down the stairs?” he asks, brow arched teasingly. Carlos lets out an amused huff, glancing down at their still clasped hands.

“No, indeed I do not shoulder that particular charge. But I do know how duty and obligation to one’s family, one’s country, can eclipse even your sense of self.”

That strikes a chord within Charles, who has wasted hours and hours of his life wondering who he really is beyond an omega, a prince. If these things were stripped away, who is he underneath?

“And yet,” Carlos continues, before Charles can formulate a response. “I am finding my current duty to my country to be much more enjoyable than I had anticipated.” Smiles spread over both of their faces, and something giddy and dangerous alights deep in Charles’ stomach.

Do not fall for it, Charles.

“Did your father instruct you to use all your charms on me?”

“My cousin, actually,” Carlos admits, startling a laugh out of Charles for his honesty. “He also told me not to let your beauty distract me. Yet, I confess, I have never been so distracted in my life.”

Charles wants to roll his eyes at the transparent attempt to romance him, but all his lessons in etiquette restrain him. Instead, he presses his lips together to prevent a smile, not wanting to give Carlos the satisfaction. Unfortunately, Carlos is watching his expression closely enough that he notes Charles’ attempt and responds with a smug grin of his own.

For a moment, they stand suspended, hands still holding one another’s, both unwilling to let go. And to his slight shame, it is Carlos who ends the stalemate, bowing at the waist to barely graze his lips against the back of Charles’ hand, his breath warm and startling. Charles’ heart stutters, but he schools his expression as the other man straightens once again, releasing his hand.

“Goodnight, Monsieur.”

Charles is afraid to speak, worried his voice will betray just how overcome he is by the barest touch of lips on his skin - not even a kiss, really. Embarrassing.

So he simply nods, then turns and strides toward his rooms without looking back. It’s only when he’s almost through the door that he glances just one time over his shoulder to see Carlos descending the stairs. 

He doesn’t wait around long enough to see if the other man looks back.

His attendant helps him undress while Andrea readies his bed. Charles brushes a thumb over the back of his hand, feeling the ghost of lips there.

“Will my lord miss the prince and princesses when they’re gone?” his attendant asks.

“Don’t be impertinent,” Andrea admonishes. Charles just smiles to himself as he undoes his necktie. “That young man pesters you.”

“Please, Andrea,” Charles sighs, shouldering off his waistcoat. “After all this time, you really think I’m going to walk straight into another jail?”

He’s taking off his shoes when Andrea eventually responds. “You must marry one day.”

“Well, I don’t see why I must,” he says, shaking his head. “But if I do, it shall be to please myself, and no one else - not Maman or Uncle or my father.”

So what if he never has children. There will always be another heir somewhere. Sure, it would be dangerous to remain an unmated omega. But if anyone could do it and survive, Charles thinks a sovereign prince, with more protection than anyone else in the country, could succeed.

He’s not marrying anyone just yet. Not even the charming Spaniard with the kind eyes.

[visenyaism]

what do you think alicent & criston's relationship is from alicent's point of view? and why did she hire him after ep 5 if she's kinda obviously against murder?

so episode five is one of alicent’s lowest points: no real friends in court, evil all-powerful father exiled to oldtown, husband doesn’t give a fuck about her other than using her body when he wants, and then also she finds out the ONE point of solace she was going to have, that Rhaenyra was going to be equally as miserable as her in her own marriage so at least they’d suffer together, isn’t even happening because Rhaenyra fucked a hot knight and then lied to Alicent’s face about it and used it to get Otto removed from court.

and then Criston shows up and puts his entire life in Alicent’s hands because he is that devoted to following the Arbitrary Society Rules that Alicent’s mind prison is made up of. She’s never really had that kind of power over anyone before. And even when he snaps and beats a man to death with his bare hands at Rhaenyra’s wedding it’s because of his deep sense of shame about losing his honor because of those rules. Criston tries to kill himself to maintain his construction of his own honor, Alicent offers him a way out.

After that, I think the core of their relationship is that Alicent DID find someone to suffer alongside with in the confines of devotion to extreme societal duty, but instead of Rhaenyra, it’s Criston as the One True Chivalric Honor Knight and Alicent as the One True Dutiful Queen. Criston is the ONLY person in her life who is willing to acknowledge out loud that Rhaenyra is breaking the rules, and you can’t break the rules because if you could break them this entire time why has Alincent had to ruin her entire life over and over again to follow the rules? Everyone else was telling her she was literally insane for years for pointing out that Rhaenyra’s kids aren’t Laenor’s or for trying to say that it was unfair that the King cared more about her than he did Alicent’s children. Their codependency was built on shared resentment of AND devotion to these rules and it is soooo insane and very fascinating. i hope they stay miserable together forever

[beefrobeefcal]

Dreamers part 2 feat. Frankie Morales

Summary: Old wives tales talked of soul mates being connected through dreams, but this notion no longer held weight in today’s day and age, what with apps for dating and pills to make sleep heavy and devoid of images. So you didn’t think anything of your beach dreams, even when they got stronger and the emotions you felt so intensely stayed with you for hours after you woke. They were just dreams... right?

My contribution to @burntheedges Roll-a-Trope fic challenge. I got Frankie + Soulmates.

Frankie Morales x f!reader 'Kit' | Rating: 18+ MDNI | Word Count: 3,834

Content Warnings: surreal and bad feeling dreams, talk of prison, ending of a marriage, betrayal, traveling, maladaptive day dreaming, smutty and sexy dreams

Author's Notes: Thank you to @burntheedges for this prompt. I never had the pull towards soulmate fics but this experience has changed my mind!

Thank you to @noxturnalpascal for picking up my typos and handing them back to me in gentle love, and @strang3lov3 for their magic powers and brainstorming abilities and to @bitchesuntitled for their eyes and love. Thanks to @saradika-graphics for the dividers

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You stood in front of the mirror in the guest room, looking over your outfit. You weren’t happy with Benny, but especially Mandy because she was the one who promised you that she wouldn’t try to set you up with any of their friends. You felt bad for taking over Benny’s computer room, but when you heard him whine to Mandy about how he missed her and wanted alone time, you couldn’t help but feel gutted that you were in the way and being a burden. 

Mandy knocked on your door softly and opened it, catching your eyes in the mirror. “Hey! You look nice!” She kept her voice sweet.

“Yeah…”, you muttered, looking down at yourself. You’d borrowed a dress from her since you didn’t really have any good summer wear for a date night, given you didn’t expect or want to be going on dates.

Mandy’s face fell and she walked into the room, standing behind you. She fixed the back of your hair and said quietly. “I swear, Kit, this is not a date. He’s a nice guy who just wanted to see a movie and no one else was available-”

“And Benny wants me out of the house.”, you interjected. You once again locked eyes with Mandy in the mirror, and she could see that you weren’t happy about this. 

“Kit-”

“You can just be honest and say this isn’t working out!”

“No, Kit-”

“I didn’t come down here to interrupt you and your boyfriend or make things weird enough that you have to convince some guy to get me out of the house.”

Mandy stared at you, hurt and remorse written all over her face and she backed up. She took a deep breath and looked down, pursing her lips together. 

Benny bounded in the room, not picking up on the tense atmosphere and excitedly asked, “Hey! You excited for your big date, Kit?”

Both you and Mandy faced him and stared. It took every ounce of your strength to hold back the verbal tirade you wanted to levy at them both, but instead you nodded and tried to offer a smile, keeping your mouth closed. 

Mandy shook her head subtly at Benny and widened her eyes at him, silently telling him to shut the fuck up!. Benny looked between you both and before he could ask what was going on, you interjected, “Yeah, I'll be out of your hair soon, Benny. Don’t worry.”

You pushed past them both and headed to wait for your ‘date’ outside.

Frankie drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel of his truck and he pulled into the parking lot of Benny’s apartment complex. 

Benny had said you’d be wearing a ‘purple sundress or something’, and when he saw the back of a woman standing under the awning in front of the complex, he assumed it was you. He got out of his truck and was greeted immediately with the sounds of Benny and Mandy fighting, coming from their open windows and sliding door.

You stood under an awning, trying to stay out of the direct sunlight that you were still trying to get used to, absolutely devastated and guilt-ridden for causing the very loud scene unfolding upstairs. You didn’t hear the truck and you didn’t hear the person siding up to you.

“Well they seem to be off to a good start for the night.”

You just about jumped out of your skin and the unexpected voice coming from beside you. Turning to look, you just about choked on your breath. 

When his eyes met yours, it seemed he almost had the same reaction. You both were finally putting faces to some unknown part of your own subconscious selves. It was like electricity being exchanged at lightning speeds between you. Those curls, that voice, that smile, that smell…

You had no idea how long you stood and stared at one another in your bubble where time seemed to be standing still. It was the loud crash followed by an elated squeal from Mandy above that brought you out of it. 

You both blinked and looked away from one another as the telltale sounds of makeup sex started to echo out of the apartment’s windows.

You and Frankie went to the movie -  it was a pretty bad, poorly made action film - and neither of you wanted to acknowledge what had happened before. You were both in need of time to process what you’d felt and neither of you were really ready for it.

After the movie, you sat silently in his truck as he drove you back to the apartment complex, and you were nervously pulling at a loose thread along the hem of your dress. Frankie saw it out of the corner of his eye, then cleared his throat.

“So-uh… thanks-thank you for seeing the movie with me.” Frankie mentally kicked himself for how stupid it sounded coming out.

“Thank you for taking me.” You felt like an idiot trying to talk to him. “It was- the movie was-”

“Bad. It was bad.”, Frankie smiled.

You let out a small but genuine laugh. “Yeah, it was pretty bad.”

A silence fell over the truck again, save for the sounds of the engine plugging along the road. 

You didn’t know what to say to keep the conversation going, and you did want to keep it going. The anger and worries that plagued your mind before this seemed to have taken a backseat to the feeling that you want this man in your life.

You also weren’t sure you were ready to show your face at Mandy’s apartment just yet, unsure of the reception you would receive. But you said nothing and sighed as Frankie turned the truck into the parking lot and parked. 

He sighed then said softly, “I don’t wanna come off as a creep and Benny said that you’re not really looking for anything… but I figure that - ummm - everyone could use a friend and-”

Turning to you, he paused and your eyes connected again. His eyes searched yours in a daze and his lips were parted like he was trying to find the words he was trying to say. Your mind swirled and you nodded dumbly back at him, the same dazed glint in your eyes. 

“We can be friends…”, you murmured, and Frankie nodded. 

You skittered getting out of the car, feeling like your body was filled with stockpiled electricity that had nowhere to go. No sooner had you shut the truck door before Frankie pulled out, tires screeching and peeled out of the parking lot. 

You had no idea what was going on and you stood staring at the stairs up to Mandy’s apartment door. There were no lights on and you breathed a shaky sigh of relief as you went up and into the dark apartment.

“Oh fuck… yes…”

Frankie’s eyes darted back and forth under his lids, his breathing short and shallow. 

You looked so good on your knees between his parted thighs, lips pulled tight around his cock. Your eyes were wide and wet, tears on your face and choked whines and gagging sounds seeped out around his girth. 

“That’s it… fuckin’ gag on it… good girl, good girl…”

The flat sheet clung to his sweat coated body as he writhed in his sleep.

“You love this, don’t you?... chokin’ on my cock?... yeah, ahogarte, hermosa… eso es todo…” [choke on it, beautiful… that’s it]

He cupped your face, brows tented as you kept your eyes on his. He breathed out harder and faster, feeling your throat constrict around the tip, sending him over the edge…

Frankie’s eyes shot open as he came. As he caught his breath, he lifted up the sheet, seeing how it stuck to his thigh and he flopped back and huffed. He hadn’t jizzed in his sleep since he was in middle school.

“What the fuck was that?”

Your toes curled as his tongue found the right spot. 

“Fra- oh baby, right there!”

You were on your side, gripping the pillow under your head. Your knee came up and you moved semi onto your front.

His lips opened and he mouthed your pussy, his tongue roughly prodding your clit. His big hands held you firmly to his face, not allowing you free reign to escape or grind down.

“Please- don’t stop! Right there! Oh fuck-yes, right there!”

Your hips rolled and you opened your mouth, panting softly. 

Two of his fingers pushed into you and you keened. He started at a steady pace, but quickly began to go harder and faster. Your eyes found his, dark and blown out, brows furrowed in lust and determination. 

“Fra-oh god! Please-I’m cl-...I’m close! I’m-oh god!”

You woke yourself up with a moan, the final ripples of your orgasm washing over you. Shakily, you pushed yourself onto your back, feeling the aching bloom of a passed climax, and you rubbed your face.

“What the fuck was that?”

Frankie couldn’t go back to sleep, not with the mess he’d made. He’d been awake since he'd stripped his bedding and loaded it into the washing machine. He ruminated over his dream as he sipped his black coffee, quietly consoling himself by affirming that it was a dream - yeah, he knew it was a dream; it was definitely a dream. It was a very realistic and mind melting dream, but that’s it… right?

He swore though, as he sat and sipped, that he could still feel the tingle in his dick that your teeth grazing his skin left behind. And the way your throat would tighten as you gagged. He didn’t even think he was into that kind of thing. Sure, he’d watched porn and seen the girls do that, and sure, he’d gotten blow jobs where that happened, but it had never been anything that caused quite that reaction before. 

A smaller part of him felt bad: Benny hadn’t gone into details about you, just telling him that you’d just gone through a divorce and your ex was a piece of work. Frankie wasn’t sure if that meant that the guy was just a dick or abusive or what, but he’d just met you and he felt inexplicably drawn to you and was dreaming that you gave him the blow job of his life.

He groaned. The sun hadn’t even risen yet and just the thought of what you did in that dream was making him hard again. He threw back the rest of his coffee and got up to pour himself another cup.

You didn’t go back to sleep after waking from your dream. You couldn’t get the way Frankie’s eyes burned as he ate your pussy out of your mind. You laid back in bed, staring at the ceiling and fidgeting your hands. 

You’d yet to hear any movement from Mandy or Benny and the sun wasn’t out yet. You wondered if Frankie would really feel that good with is mouth on you, fucking you with his tongue, and you felt a twinge of guilt. In an effort to convince you to go to the movie with him, Mandy had given you a brief overview on Frankie; how he’d been in a long term relationship that ended when he was told she was pregnant and it wasn’t his. How he’d spiraled into drugs and alcohol and lost his pilot’s license, but he’d just gotten it back after working really hard. All the information she gave you left you wondering what Frankie was told about you.

But what really got you about what Mandy said was how much she thought of him, how bad she felt for him when his relationship fell apart, how hard it was to watch him struggle but also how proud she was of him for fighting so hard to get his life back on track. The way she spoke about him was now igniting something in you, in tandem with his words, “...everyone could use a friend.”

Why was that making you horny?

You got up and went into the bathroom to have a cold shower.

The next week went by in a haze for Frankie. He went to work, flew the helicopters, came home, ate, jerked off in the shower and slept. Repeat. The only thing he had any clarity was his dreams -  with you on the sidewalk of a busy city street in the rain at night. It was the same thing every night - just as before -  but now it was your face filling the foggy, blurred void of the woman who kissed the back of his hand reassuringly. 

Frankie had pulled away from the group that week, not answering phone calls and only replying to texts with Busy. Santi had enough and showed up, unannounced, at his front door. 

“Hermano, you look like shit. What is the matter with you?”, Santi pleaded as he sat heavily on Frankie’s couch. “It’s like you’re falling back into bad habits… what happened? Carrie call you or something?”

Frankie bristled at the mention of Carrie, his ex. “No. Fuck… no nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

Frankie sighed and dropped his head into his hands, palms pressing into his eyes. “It’s the dreams.”

He didn’t see the grin take over Santi’s concerned face as relief spread out over it, and he didn’t see his friend sit back on the sofa with his hand on his chest. Frankie only looked up when he heard Santi let out a laugh.

“The dreams!”, Santi exclaimed in a breathy laugh. “Oh thank fuck! I thought you were on coke again.” He suddenly sat up and put a hand on Frankie’s knee. “You’re not on coke again, right?”

“No! And why are you laughing? How is this funny?”

Santi shook his head and waved off Frankie’s question with a smile. “Tell me about your dreams, gilipollas.”

You avoided spending much time at the apartment unless it was in your room. The dreams were back at the beach, and now for sure the man who held you from behind and whispered things in what you assumed was Spanish into your ear was Frankie. You felt awkward and in the way and you didn’t want to lose another person in your life and you had started looking for your own apartment to try and salvage what you had with Mandy. You didn’t even know if she or Benny were angry or mad at you, but you couldn't bring yourself to find out without having a back up plan. 

Your solitude was broken finally on Thursday night when there was a knock at the door and upon calling out Come In, Benny opened and poked his head into your room. 

“Hey… was wondering if we could talk.”

“Yeah, sure thing.” 

You adjusted yourself to being seated on your bed and Benny pulled out the desk chair and sat backwards on it, resting his arms on the backrest.

You watched as he cleared his throat and seemed to look anywhere but you. 

“So, I wanted to-uh… I wanted to say sorry to you.”, he said softly, picking at his cuticles. “Mandy hasn’t told me much but from what she’s said, you’ve been through the ringer and having an asshole like me shove his-”

You interjected with a sigh. “You’re not an asshole, Benny.”

“Fine, but I was acting like one. I threw a bitchfit because I had blueballs.”, he said point blank and you couldn’t help but give him a small smile and huffed chuckle. 

“See? You laughed, I was being an asshole.” 

You looked down at your hands and nodded, pursing your lips. You looked up with a resigned shrug. “I get it though. You’ve had Mandy all to yourself for what, two years? And then I come along and threw a mopey wrench into the mix and took away your computer room.”

Benny’s shoulders dropped and he shook his head. “I’m the youngest out of five kids. Three sisters and a brother. I’m used to getting my way and not having to share. So just let me be sorry, okay?”

“Fine.”, you acquiesced as you crossed your arms. “You can be sorry and I’ll be apologetic. Yes?”

Benny smiled and shot his hand out and you took it, giving him a firm handshake. 

“But you won’t have to share for long. I found an apartment.”

Benny’s face fell. “Mandy’s gonna have my balls.”

“So wait - the girl in your dreams became Mandy’s friend? Or did you finally realize it was her all along?”, Santi asked seriously, his eyes narrowed and his finger moving through the air as if drawing a connection between two points.

Frankie groaned and fell back against the back of the couch. “Does it matter?? What’s the difference?”

“There’s a massive difference, Frank!”, Santi laughed, being somewhat astounded at Frankie’s lack of comprehension. “In one way, you got the whole ‘love at first sight’ thing going, but in the other, this girl is your soulmate.”

“Fuck off with the soulmater bullshit!”

Santi shook his head with a tight smile. “Uh-uh, pendejo! You’re up shit creek without a paddle and I am your fucking life line! You’re stuck with me on this journey! Unless you want me to tell my abuela about that dream you had that was so good it made you cum like a-”

“Okay! Okay, just - fuck… not that. Never speak of that again!”

Santi nodded, pleased with himself. “Okay then. So I guess the next step is to put yourself at the mercy of fate.”

Frankie looked at Santi, completely over his superstitious bullshit. “What the fuck does that even mean. Pope?!”

The end of month came quicker than you anticipated and Mandy cried as she helped you load up Benny’s car with your bags.

“You know you don’t have to leave right? Benny promised to be better and I won’t force you on any more dates.”

You turned to her, trying to suppress a grin and nodded. “I know I don’t have to but you’ve already done so much for me. Getting me a job and giving me a place to live for the last few weeks… I can’t accept any more. Plus I’m like less than a five minute drive away. Same complex as Santi. I’m not far!”

She nodded and wiped a tear away. “I know, but-”

Benny interrupted with a deep, beleaguered sigh. “Ladies. Please. Can we get a move on?”

Within less than an hour, you had all your bags unloaded and Benny had set up the bed for you from the guest room, noting that they didn’t need the bed anymore because that room was going right back to being his gamer sanctuary. 

You’d already ordered furniture that was going to be delivered the next day. After the pizza was eaten and the internet tech had come and gone, Mandy and Benny bid you good night and you were alone. For the first time since you left the house you and Tony lived in empty, you were truly alone. 

Frankie was up early, reading the news on his phone and drinking a coffee when he got a message from Benny in the group chat.

Benny: Hey anyone around to help kit put furniture together? Busted my back putting my gamer sanctuary back in place last night. Laid up in bed

Before he could answer, another message popped up. 

Santi: im super busy. frankie is available. send catfish. 

Frankie sucked in a breath and froze. Fucking Pope. He sighed and replied.

Frankie: Sure. What time should I head over?

It was midmorning and you were contemplating murder. You had pieces of a dresser, an entertainment unit, a bookshelft and two bedside tables all over the living room floor and the instructions didn’t make sense.

Your doorbell ringing snapped you out of your rage for a moment and when you opened the door, you were met by Frankie, awkwardly smiling and holding a box of donuts and two coffees in a cardboard tray.

“Hey. Heard you need help with furniture.”

Two hours later, your couches had been delivered and Frankie had made sense of every single piece of furniture. 

“Where do you want it?”, he huffed as he backed the top half of the dresser down your hallway as you carried the bottom.

“Uh… as soon as you go in, just to the left of the doorway.”

He nodded and guided you and the dresser into your room. He puffed a few breaths out and had his hands on his hips, and he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander up and down your body. The denim shorts you were wearing clung to your ass and the way they pulled just so between your thighs made him feel light headed. The tank top hugged your tits perfectly and your neck looked so good with the slight sheen of sweat over it. 

As he watched you move about the room, figuring out what to put on and in the dresser, he heard rain. Heavy rain. And traffic. The smell of engine exhaust and wet pavement surrounded him along with the ambient sounds of a city on a rainy night… 

As you flitted back and forth from a suitcase to the dresser loading it up, you had no idea Frankie was watching. If you had turned and looked at him, you would have seen his eyes boring into you and unfocused. You smiled to yourself, feeling accomplished when you got a whiff of Frankie’s scent. Deodorant, clean laundry and a bit of sweat and you paused with your back still turned to him. 

You heard the ocean coming closer and your feet seemed to sink into the carpet like it was sand, warming between your toes. A sea breeze blew gently through your hair, and you could hear gulls in the distance…

Frankie heard you calling his name, and his head swiveled around, taking in his surroundings. A street corner in a busy city. You were on the other side, beckoning him to come closer with a smile, your motions slowed and surreal. He tried calling out to you, telling you to stay there, but no sound came out of him. You started to back into a shadow with a smile, still welcoming him, but the cars didn’t stop and no matter what he did, waving at you to stop and trying to scream for you, you disappeared into the darkness.

You stood on the beach side and time seemed to stand still. You heard your name and you looked towards where the sound came from and Frankie was calling out, a smile on his face, telling you to come to him. You tried to lift your feet to walk and they wouldn’t move; the sand was sucking you down, pulling you into it and the tide was coming in. Frankie laughed and waved you towards him and all you could do was scream as the sand pulled you right down into the abyss.

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[olympiansowl]

I saw some people mad at Elendil bc he didn’t talk to Earien at the end of this ep but like…she isn’t a faithful and no harm would come to her bc of Pharazon’s politics. At the end of the ep, the only one in chains is Miriel, not Earien. Earien is also the love interest of the new prince who insulted her father, said he was nobody’s captain (and she was also present at that scene) and killed another faithful who happened to be her friend and her brother’s bestie, not to mention that she also has a huge role in all of the things they’re going through bc she was the one who gave the Palantiri to Pharazon…she literally helped him get his ass on that throne so no, she won’t need help or whatever to survive because she isn’t a faithful, she’s probably dating the prince and she helped the king get the damn scepter. And she also won’t be convinced to change her religion by her father bc if that was the case, she would’ve changed it after the sea trial. The only one who’s truly capable of getting something into her head is Isildur. And I want y’all to see the whole picture because Earien was mad at Miriel because of the southlands, but Miriel didn’t make anyone go. They volunteered. And I’m pretty sure that when someone agrees to go to war, they know that they might not come back alive, specially considering that 80% of them didn’t even knew how to fight properly. Miriel comes back and all of the things happens to her and now she’s a prisoner at her own city because of Pharazon AND Earien. Not to mention Valandil’s death and the orher things that happened to the faithfuls. Earien is a grown ass woman and she made her choice. She was, like Elendil said, promoted.

Do I agree with his parenting? Not really, I think sometimes he’s unnecessarily harsh, but his daughter helped usurp a Queen, who’s also his love interest, and placed power into the hands of the two craziest mf of that city. Kemen made a whole show out of the captain scene and she was still there, she also didn’t make anything to stop insults or whatever. She might try to help them out of some situations, but those situations wouldn’t be happening if she kept her mouth shut. And the “oh but he didn’t teach them how to be a faithful” doesn’t really work here because Valandil, one of their closest friends, was a faithful, and friends have a huge importance and influence on people when growing up because it’s when we get apart from our parents to build our own personality. Earien has hers. She isn’t a bad person, but she made dumb choices…and she might not know it because she doesn’t see the future, but her scheme is literally connected to the fall of Numenor. She gave Pharazon the palantiri, she helped him usurp Miriel, she made the others who were loyal to Miriel lose their jobs and swords, she’s probably dating that fucking devil (Kemen)…and she didn’t make it based on “my father doesn’t talk to me” and even if she did, I can assure y’all that it doesn’t justify her actions. Theo had a good mother and made shit choices. Isildur has the same father as Earien and isn’t out there trying to usurp anyone’s rightful throne. Tar Palantir had a shit father, a terrible one who forced his mom into marriage and shit talked him bc he was faithful, and yet Palantir was a sweet man who let people live in peace.

Also, at the top of the cake…Miriel wasn’t forced into marriage, but she might be on the next season since Cynthia said the civil war isn’t over. A civil war that is happening because someone thought it would be a good idea to usurp her. And another someone helped it. Pharazon accused Miriel of witchcraft and siding with the enemy because, guess what? Earien gave him the Palantiri! And she’s isn’t really questioning him on his new infos, which I find strange since Numenor is kinda of separated from the other places and doesn’t really get into their business. I’m sorry, but Earien has as much blame as any of the other two mf, with a difference that she isn’t yet corrupted. Which won’t take too long because in the appendix is said that only the remaining faithful weren’t corrupted by Sauron…Pharazon accused Miriel of witchcraft and siding with the enemy because, guess what? Earien gave him the Palantiri! And that caused him to exile everyone that follow this religion. And they should follow. I saw people saying that she shouldn’t be okay with her brother dying because of religions and magical things but like…it’s their world. They have that island because of that religion and at this point everybody knows that they will lose the same island because Pharazon decided that it was a brilliant idea to go and insult the gods even more than he already did. It’s because of this religion that her lineage, since she also came from house Elros, is able to live at least 200 years. She made shit choices and that’s on her. If someone pointed a gun at her head or threatened her or her loved ones, then I would understand her bad choices and feel more love towards her, but it wasn’t really the case. She made those choices because she thought it was a good path. And now everyone else is dealing with the consequences of hers, Pharazon’s and Kemen’s decisions.

[tavsianus]

Fic Ideas

Snames: James keep thinking about Severus after Hogwarts and regrets everything. So when he sees the other guy in Diagon Alley he wants to talk to him, he never thought it would be so hard to keep himself away from someone.

Sniddle: One day Severus finds a black notebook placed in his dorm bed and things just gets stranger. Someone replies to him whenever he writes down and he slowly falls in love with this mysterious person.

Snarcissia: Narcissa, who has made a political marriage, is not at all satisfied with her relationship with Lucius. After a while, she meets Snape, a working-class man, and falls in love with him.

Snirius/Snames:  Severus goes to a blind date (by force) and meets with a man. He is cocky, arrogant and annoying and Severus wants nothing more to just leave. (Sirius/James on the other hand is planning a second date.)

Snames: Severus works at a library and the same person comes to get a new book everday. It is clear that he isn’t reading it at all because no way someone can read to whole The Hunchback of Notre Dame in one day.

Snirius: Severus becomes a penpal with a criminal, Sirius Black. Everything is fine until Black is released from prison. 

Snupin:  Severus has germophobia (OCD) and decides to go to a therapist.

Snames: James falls in love with a melancholic ghost that lives in his house.

Snames/Snirius: Sirius Black is adored by everyone, everyone except one person. Severus Snape. And he was pretty sure if he did try, even the greasy git would fall for his charm eventually.So, how far was he willing to go to win a bet?

Snupin: Its Care of Magical Creatures class. Suprisingly, animals love Snape and he loves them. Hagrid(or whoever the teacher is) brings a unicorn and doesn’t let anyone aproach. Sev tries it and the Unicorn let him. Everyone is shocked. Remus is very interested in him after this. Because, maybe he can also approach his wolf and can calm him so he doesn’t get so much hurt?

Snirius: After Sirius uses a dark spell to stop his magic as a ‘prank’ Severus has to stay with the Blacks until they find a way to solve this problem (The ministry forces them, if not Sirius’ll get punished.)

Severus has to stay at a dorm and to his shock, he has to stay with three jocks -James,Sirius,Remus. He is not happy about it.

Severus shares a apartment with Sirius/James. He isn’t exactly friends with this guy but hey, he is rich and he isn’t going to complain. 

• Coffee Shop AU. Severus just wanted to get some coffee but the damn barista was more interested in annoying him then doing his job, goddamnit. (Snack/Snames)

Severus  lives in a shitty town and works at just as shitty work. But one day when a Mafia group decides to claim their town things just gets worse. (Marauders/Snape)

(Snupin) Severus gets a new apartment for college. But what is that? There’s a ghost living there! Well, he isn’t going to leave, the rent is really cheap so he has to learn to live with him.

[shinyhoundhandseagle]

The Emerald of the Season

Relationships: Eloise Bridgerton/Male Character

Word Count:

Warning: No

Part 3/?

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/shinyhoundhandseagle/754373682092277760/the-emerald-of-the-season

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/shinyhoundhandseagle/754292327975092224/the-emerald-of-the-season

part 4: https://www.tumblr.com/shinyhoundhandseagle/756221333910765569/the-emerald-of-the-season

• • •

The next ball was scheduled for tomorrow night and the Bridgerton house was a mess. Violet was running around, trying to get her kids ready while Benedict hid from his mother, Francesca worried about this being her first season and Eloise ignored her attempts to get her ready while sitting on the couch reading a book.

“Eloise are you excited about tomorrow?”

She opened her mouth to tell her mother that marriage was a prison and that she would rather die when one of the servants came through the door with a package on his hands.

“What is this?”- Violet took the package from his hands and put it on the table. It felt heavy but the package was nice and there was a note-. “There’s a note!”

‘Dear Eloise,

I don’t have to read minds to know you are not the jewelry kind of girl but I wish this entertains your mind.

Hope you enjoy,

Sebastian’

“What did he send you?!”- Hyacinth squeaked out as Eloise stood up and walked up to her mother. Her heart was racing as she got to the package and grabbed the note from her mother’s hand.

“The Prince send you a gift! You know what this mean?”- Violet was over the moon. Her first daughter married a duke and now it was possible that her second daughter married a Prince?- “He might court you this season!”

Eloise was too concerned in opening the package to listen to her mother. Once she did, she saw 3 different books. Two about medicine and one about agriculture.

“Books?”- Hyacinth looked confused and kind if disappointed-. “Why couldn’t he send you a crown or something like that?”

“This is so much better”-. Said Eloise quickly grabbing her new books. She was so excited about new and shiny books, especially books about medicine-. “I’m going to start reading them”.

“Maybe you will be a princess or a Queen!”

“Shut up Hyacinth!”

“Eloise, don’t speak to your sister like that!”

“I’m sorry”.

• • •

“How do I look Marcel?”

“Since when do you care about looking good for the balls my Prince?”

“I love when you’re funny, doesn’t happen very often”-. He looked at his servant, and if we’re being honest his best friend, with a smirk.

“It’s an actual question My Prince”-. Marcel rolled his eyes while helping his Prince by fixing his clothes-. “I have never seen you excited about a ball before. Is this because of a certain Lady Bridgerton?”

“Do you think she liked my gift?”- His smile said everything, it was definitely thanks to Eloise.

“I will take that as a yes”-. He felt happy that his Prince was finally interested on someone-. “She seems kind and a little opinionated”.

“I know, isn’t that wonderful?”- It was, definitely wonderful. She was smart and beautiful-. “She seems amazing”.

“You do look good, my Prince”.

• • •

The start of the ball was boring. Men looking for young women to marry and a lot of gossip. Not really the way Eloise wanted to spend her evening. Anthony was watching after Francesca while Violet stayed with Eloise.

“Lady Bridgerton”-. A man with brown eyes and hair came made his way to Violet and Eloise with a cocky smile-. “Philip Crane”.

“Very nice to meet you Lord Crane”-. Violet smiled at him and then looked at Eloise-. “This is my daughter Eloise”.

“Nice to meet you my Lady. Would you allow me this dance?”

“She will be delighted”-. Violet gave Eloise a stern look to then move to the side, allowing Philip to take her hand and move to the dance floor.

“You look beautiful this evening Ms Eloise”-. His charm flew over Eloise’s head as they moved through the dance floor. She wasn’t interested in him at all-. “I’ve been watching you for quite sometime, you’ve always been a beautiful woman”.

“I appreciate that Lord Philip but I’m not really interested in marriage if that’s what believe”-. Her bluntness made his expression harden and his eyes filled with condescension.

“That’s nonsense, every woman wants to marry”.

Eloise eyes almost fell out of her head in disbelief. How dare him try and tell her what she wants or should want?

“How could you believe a women’s only desire is to server a husband?”

“I don’t only think it’s a desire but a privilege”-. She let go of his hand and took a step back, her blood was boiling-. “The song is not over my Lady”.

“But this dance is”-. She walked away from him and back to her mother. Violet didn’t look angry but she was definitely worried-. “Don’t ever send me with a man like that again”.

“What happened?”- Her mouth opened to complain about Lord Philip when she was interrupted by another voice.

“Eloise!”- Sebastian and Marcel had made their way to them with the typical smile on his face and two glasses of punch on his hands.

“Sebastian!”- She couldn’t deny the relief and happiness on her voice when he got there. Violet also seem more at ease, specially thanks to how happy her daughter sounded.

“My Prince”.

“Lady Bridgerton”-. He offered both of them the glasses which they took-. “You really don’t have to address me like that, Sebastian will do”.

“My manners couldn’t allow that”.

“Wow, your mother has really good manners so… what happened to you?”- His teasing tone and wink to Eloise wasn’t missed by Violet.

“Would you rather me married and silent?”

“I definitely wouldn’t want that”-. He laughed to then offer his hand to her-. “Would I be allowed a dance?”

This time instead of answering for her, Violet looked at her daughter with a soft, encouraging smile. Eloise took his hand, chug the punch and gave the glass to her mother.

“Let’s go, don’t get angry if I step on your feet”.

“If that’s the price to pay, I can deal with that”.

This dance was nice, Sebastian took the lead and she just had to move with him. It was quiet for a couple seconds as Eloise saw Lord Crane watching over them like a vulture.

“Did you like the books?”

“I did, it was very thoughtful”-. She stopped looking around and focus her eyes on him-. “You didn’t have to”.

“But I wanted to…”- He looked in deep thought, trying to find the words to explain himself-. “I know your views for marriage but…”

“Well spit it out”-. Her laughed calmed him down a bit-. “You told me that politeness didn’t suit me, well beating around the bush doesn’t suit you”.

“What if I courted you?”- The words came out of his mouth quickly, like they were burning the inside if his mouth-. “I know you do not wish a marriage where you’re seen as less or to give birth to multiple heirs and I don’t want that either”.

“Oh”-. Her stomach felt like turning, like a bunch of bees were nesting on it. Her hand felt like burning as she grabbed his and the rest of her felt like tingling-. “I’m not really the definition of a Lady, specially not a Princess or a Queen”.

“I want an equal, someone that I couldn’t rule but someone that could rule WITH me. A strong partner that could tell me when I’m wrong and give me their input on how to be better”-. He looked at her, waiting for her rejection-. “I would encourage you to study and be more than happy with you being your own person outside of us”.

The last notes of the song ended and from the corner of his eye he saw more men waiting for their turn to ask her for a dance now that she seem so desirable to them but on a selfish act he decided to keep dancing with her as the next song started.

“I’m not asking you to marry me but to give me a chance”.

“I… I would need to think about it”.

“Of course, take all the time you need my lady”.

• • •

After the second song he had to let her go as she needed to dance with some other pretenders. While she did that Marcel and Sebastian walked around the ballroom, engaging in small talk with a few ladies.

“You don’t seem happy Your Highness”-. Marcel commented from behind him as they went outside to get some fresh air-. “You seem rather sad”.

“Why must you always be over my shoulder?”

“It’s my duty”.

“Your duty to my father or me?”- He turned around, looking at Marcel’s face. The servant looked surprised at the outburst, it wasn’t normal for his Prince to snap at him or anyone if we’re being honest. Unless…

“Has Lady Eloise rejected your advances?”

“She said she would think about it but…”- Marcel patted his shoulder on clear solidarity and that seem to do the trick-. “I’m sorry, it’s not your fault”.

“All is good Your Highness, I understand”.

Sebastian pressed his back against the wall, feeling uneasy. His ears were ringing, heart pounding, shoulders tense as he started to feel disconnected of his surroundings. He wasn’t use to social events like balls, they always made him feel nervous.

“Your Highness?”

“I’m good Marcel, just nervous”.

“I will go and ready the carriage”-. The servant knew his Prince better than anyone else, he couldn’t take it for much longer.

Once he was alone, Sebastian decided to sit on the ground and focus in the quiet. Silence was nice but it definitely wasn’t the cure for everything that was wrong with him. No, the only cure for that was the sweet relief of death.

“Sebastian?”- He raised his head to find some beautiful blue eyes. Eloise seem worried and nervous about him as she sat next to him-. “Are you feeling ill?”

“Just nervous. Why are you outside my Lady?”

“I’ve been looking for you”-. He wasn’t going to lie, that sentence made his heart skip a beat-. “I have been thinking about your proposal and I would like for you to court me”.

“You don’t have to say yes, if you don’t want it I would understand”-. That seem to calm her nerves.

“I know but I want you to, if that’s still your plan”.

“I would like that a lot too Eloise”.

[velvetjune]

replayed The Lake House dlc, so more of my thoughts under spoilers! (This is long)

I cannot believe how many things I missed during the first run of this game:

1. The whiteboard of the AI Alan Wake manuscript pages produced with evaluations. One repeating the word “scream” for half of a page gets praise for its wording and tone. “Pistol looked at flashlight in shock.” It must’ve been so much fun for the writers to make up all of these.

2. Jules Marmont has extra footage directly after the Dr. Darling video on the second floor if you go back. I don’t know what exactly triggers this video, but it was when I was doubling back to get the black rock weapon.

3. The research archives appear normally from above, then shift multiple times, before returning to normal (… as normal as the shelves infinitely repeating is). This happened in the first playthrough, but I was stressed over my survival and never noticed.

4. The research archives actually go through areas with different mediums/classifications. There’s tagged artifacts/photos, tapes, film, books, and it ends with paintings. It’s nothing mind bending, but the detail was nice to see.

5. Diana’s tape on the tortured artist and human experimentation. This, with Jules’ video, only added to their monstrosity.

I wouldn’t be surprised if the Black Rock Launcher is used in a similar way in FBC Firebreak. It wouldn’t be the same, but this felt so much like a set up for the kind of strange and innovative tools that FBC employees experiment with, especially when trapped in a lockdown at the Oldest House with access to Black Rock Quarry. Maybe Emily can finally make her black rock knives!

It’s hard to not think of Alan and Alice when it comes to any other creative characters in relationships in this game and the hardships with balancing that sorta life. There’s the Bookers with Tammy, a successful true crime writer and attempted poet (!!!), and Ed, a playwright trying to get recognition and feel inspired. It feels right that he would end up taking Wake’s work to write the Marmonts (also with shades of Alan and Alice) into their own supernatural lakeside cabin, fit with a marriage that’s falling apart.

The actors for both Marmonts are incredible. They both perfectly portray their outrage, jealously, and stubbornness that’s consuming their relationship and work. This mad scientist drama could easily end up too cheesy, but they sell it. Love that these negative emotions and their attempt to enforce it on artists for their suffering lead to the crack in the lake house through them. There’s so many things to pick at in this dlc, whether for the relationships, work environments, ai, artists, etc.

Only for this bullet point, but Final Draft Spoilers: Diana thinking of Jules’ smile as her last moment before being taken, while Jules’ last moment (‘Breakthrough in the Lake House’ page) is feeling pride over his work…………

I want more office drama for horrible mad scientists for Control 2. Honestly I want anything Control 2

After briefly checking online, I’m proud of myself for quickly solving the calendar problems. I actually really liked this kind of simple task to find little clues and, by doing so, getting to know the people through their passwords. I’m terrible anything with puzzles, so very grateful to have this over something elaborate or. math.

The Dylan scene is also skippable, which is unthinkable (one of the best parts of the dlc!). There’s all this disgust and horror from Estevez towards the Marmonts’ control of the Lake House, only for it to reveal that Dylan was also trapped there and experimented on by Dr. Darling and the researchers there (all approved by Trench!). Estevez isn’t aware of this, but it was a cold reminder of how truly awful it was for Dylan and how fucked up Trench and Darling are for kidnapping a child…. And then abandoning him in a small prison cell.

The horror elements in this DLC were nice, although not extreme. Tbh I don’t consider any of Remedy’s games to be scary, even if they’re still horror, but this had good moments! The distortion of the environment and constant looping made me doubt myself. Jules’ death as a taken was violent (albeit obscured), to the level of Nightingale’s cult attack, if not worse. Loved the emotion from the Marmonts seeping into their taken personalities. Aw1 had more of this and it made the Taken far more upsetting and real.

Sometimes Alan is creepy and I enjoy seeing him through other characters’ eyes. Alan/the Dark Place manifesting manuscript pages that would perfectly dig under the Marmonts’ skins and infect them was unnerving and a little funny. shows they never had a chance. While it’s not physically like that, the words describing the Lake House slowly being sunken into Cauldron Lake and the water dripping in—Chef’s kiss

AWAN had a conversation between the scientist where she discussed fate and agency (…Alan’s indignation at her being remotely critical over her 😭 he’s such an asshole). It reminded me of Diana’s notes on whether Alan wrote and controlled her life. There’s some agency that Alan takes away just by guiding these events and trying to influence people through a story. How much is him actually controlling or changing things is another question, but having that kind of power is scary, especially from another’s POV (Saga, now Estevez and the Marmonts)

Estevez seeing Alan typing the later event of her meeting Saga and THIS being what led the FBC straight to her was a great scene of wrapping everything up. I liked the weird dark goo in the Dark Place. Fun stuff!

Poe <3 Loved this promo of her new song. 6 deep breaths coinciding with Estevez’ reassurance to herself, although the lyrics also could apply to others. Dylan trapped in his cage, yet able to connect to these worlds; Alan (+Alice) in the dark place, then post-game, ‘finding roads everywhere’. I’m playing the first Alan Wake, so the breathing made me immediately think of the deep breaths taken by Tom the Diver throughout that (+ the addition of another voice breathing near the end)

Clay Murphy wrote the screenplay to this and to Number One Fan (Night Springs), which means he might be the funniest person ever

[vigilskeep]

sorry if this is an insane question, it's something i've been wondering about and you are the dragon age lore understander in my mind: ...is there canonical information about divorces (or annulments) in thedas? like, in dao you can find out that eamon suggested cailan 'put anora aside' but that's very vague about logistics. it's probably just something bioware doesn't care about but it haunts me. if cailan had tried to divorce anora and marry celene to create an orlais-fereldan alliance and the divine hadn't approved could thedas have had its own anglican church situation

[the below answer should be read with the visual of me with a white-knuckled grip of frustration leaving indents on steel]

there is NO lore and it drives me INSANE !!!

david gaider, on a random forum discussion post, said “there is annulment. there is no concept of ‘divorce’”. this along with the discussion of cailan setting anora aside is as far as i know all we have

so ‘annulment but no divorce’ is presumably drawing from andrastianism’s catholic inspirations. which basically means that divorce isn’t a thing but a marriage can be declared “null” if you can come up with a reason it was never valid from the start. to go for the henry viii example, he tried to have his marriage to catherine of aragon annulled on the grounds that she had married his late brother first, and he’d suddenly and conveniently realised this meant their marriage had never been okay. the pope refused, because a) a pope had already given henry and catherine permission to marry despite those circumstances meaning the marriage was literally fine and popes aren’t supposed to take that kind of thing back and b) also as an aside, for separate reasons the pope had had his city sacked and been taken prisoner by catherine’s nephew the holy roman emperor like five minutes ago, and so had reasonable fears for his health if he said yes

(sorry if any of the above historical info is slightly off it’s been a while but that’s pretty much the gist)

i have... absolutely no idea on what grounds you could annul cailan’s marriage to anora. but we really have no data on what the chantry considers grounds. could her supposed infertility be enough? it’s impossible to say. maybe eamon was working on some argument, it’s clear he’s been pushing for this for years

that said, if cailan himself was moving to marry celene, he’d have a much better shot at getting that annulment, if only because what’s the divine going to do, not grant an annulment to the guy the orlesian empress wants to marry? this is where anora not having any useful emperor nephews really lets her down. her father could certainly raise hell in ferelden, but they have zero reach in orlais

(as an aside, all this is something i’ve thought about for one of my absolute favourite dragon age timelines, sebhawke divorce. tell me inquisition wouldn’t be improved by starkhaven desperately trying to get an annulment meanwhile the divine is fucking exploded. you can’t.)

[bullet-prooflove]

Send me a made-up fic title and I'll tell you what I would write to go with it

No offense, but the idea that you're not good enough for someone like me is really fucking stupid

Connor Rhodes – breaks your fucking heart with this shit. Always has his dad’s voice in the back of his head, telling him he’s not good enough, that he’s not worth anything. You come home one night and he tries to tell you it’s not working, you ask where it’s all coming from and discover his dad made an appearance today and you know it turns his world upside down. You spend the whole night, holding him and telling him how perfect he is for someone like you.

Alden Parker – comes in the form of wedding jitters. You have a panic attack just before the wedding, as in thirty minutes before, clad in the dress and everything. Alden who has pre-empted this because he remembers the nightmare that was your first marriage talks you through it. Holds your hands in his and tells you that whatever you want to do he’s there for you and it’s ridiculous that you think you’re not good enough for him.

Mitch Ripley – you go through this whenever he has a low spell, usually during his S.A.D episodes in Winter. He thinks he’s not good enough for you, that you can do better, you deserve someone that isn’t a mess. Those are the nights, you cradle his face in your hands and tell him you love him, you will always love him and it’s not about being good enough, it’s about taking care of one another.

Trey Cahill – happens when he hears about you not being considered for a promotion because of your relationship with him. He’s on the way out after dropping off your go bag when he overhears it. It devastates him that he’s compromising your opportunities so he breaks it off and ghosts you. When you turn up at his place he tries to be mean, to run you off but you won’t have it. He ends up explaining it to you and you end up telling him it doesn’t matter, he’s what matters because he’s the man that makes you happy.

Bode Leone – his status as a prisoner and all the shit he’s been through has really eroded his self-worth. After your first kiss he tries to tell you he has nothing to offer you, that you should move on with someone who can spent time with you, someone that’s good enough for you. You remind him of how far he’s come, that he has a future, one with you if he just gets out of his own way.

I could do more but I am getting super tired so I'm calling it a night!