#writing for my wives

[lotus-pear]

saw the labru trend and IMMEDIATELY thought of them

[malsorie]

i was waiting for a ship in BG3 to sweep me off my feet until i read @optiwashere’s Minthara x Lae’zel propaganda (their fics) and fell VICTIM. so i drew a little scene from this fic 🤕🤕

[azu1as]

once again thinking about sqq unintenionally becoming a harem master in the eyes of can qiong and civilians.

it starts off with him saving one of binghe's future wives because ! she was one of the more interesting wives !! with powers that ariplane retconned in later chapters for no reason !!!!!!

"What a sweet girl," Shen Qingqiu murmurs as he opened the thank you package delivered to him because she wanted to thank the immortal master for saving her from a beast that in PIDW had traumatized her into becoming a recluse.

Shen Qingqiu hums as he touches the new hand-painted fan. Sweat begins beading on his neck at the murderous glare his white lotus Binghe was directing at the object in his hands.

This master is sorry, Binghe, but this fan is too precious to throw!

Shen Qingqiu clears his throat, "It would be good if she sends more gifts," to her future husband Binghe, of course.

That way, his sweet bun realizes that this was nothing more but a gift to her father-in-law. Aiya, why is the glare even worse?

a week later, sqq saves another wife by complete coincidence on a trip down to the village. she insists on joining him back to cang qiong and sqq gives in because of how persistent she was.

binghe breaks the plate of snacks he was holding when he bumps into them.

sqq: oh shit binghe's jealous. quick gotta send her his way and make them spend more time together

and then the lady just asks him about sqq and whether he's married single looking for someone.

and it keeps happening. sqq isn't sure either why he's meeting all these future wives. maybe the system wanted him to give his future approval? the system was being a bitch and seemed to enjoy his confusion over the way events had been continuously unfolding.

but then one of binghe's sly wives—a scammer who airplane contradictorily describes as pure-hearted at her core—comes up to him one day and tells him, "I have your baby."

And she shamelessly does it in front of the whole cang qiong delegation.

Shen Qingqiu doesn't know where or who the shrill keening sound was coming from.

[grandapplewit]

Harem AU where Shen Yuan transmigrates into one of Bingge’s wives shortly after he returns from the other world. After a brief (and frantic) realization that’s she’s a woman (and always has been, but we’re not getting into that right now), she delves deep into this harem drama she’s been thrust into. It’s not until she comes face to face with Luo Bingge that she realizes just WHICH harem drama she’s living, and immediately sets about making his life as good as she can manage. Oh, harem infighting is causing strain on his containers? Simply nudge Liu Mingyan and Sha Hualing into working together to manage the harem. The Northern Desert is hinging on disaster because of clerical neglect? One of her harem sisters has a brother who’s in need of a job, no stress. Luo Binghe’s kids are unruly and there’s no clear successor? She has a college degree and a little sister, teaching a dozen or so demonic children is a breeze! All in the name of giving Luo Binghe the time to find a new wife, of course, one who will disperse with the need for this sprawling harem, and once that happens she’s free to travel and document monsters to her hearts content.

[miss-americanbi]

shout out to all the demons (dyslexic people) who are having the time of their lives trying to spell “ineffable” or “bureaucracy” correctly post good omens 2

[dollypopup]

"Penelope should have chosen Debling!"

My sister in Christ. . .he literally dumped her???

Like just before Colin Bridgerton was on his knees after outrunning her carriage to profess how he can't stop thinking about her in his love me, choose me, I'm yours speech, Debling did the Regency equivalent of calling her a floozy who would undoubtedly cheat on him when he abandoned her for several years to chase his passions (because she would never be one of said passions since she asked outright if he could ever come to care for her and he went 'hmmmm seems unlikely! good thing you have solitary hobbies to occupy you instead!') when he has been given 0 evidence of such other than realizing she liked to look out the window because she had a crush on the boy across the street. I was ready to challenge that man to a duel for Pen's honor

His feelings for her were middling at best, I mean Christ on a Pogostick, after he asked her mum for permission to propose he isn't even happy when he opens the door and Pen is there? She's looking like a snack- nay, a whole ass MEAL, and he can't even smile? He just nods at her and dips the fuck out? You don't think it would kill Penelope to know that both her sisters have husbands who absolutely adore them and she's out here with an absent dude who likely won't even write to her?

Portia's 'Love is make believe!' speech is so transparently full of shit when you realize that we've got Dankworth who is so obsessed with Prudence that he makes heart eyes at her every waking moment and considers her his little bonbon and Albion who loves Phillipa so much that he was waiting for her to consent to sex (not realizing she didn't know what it was) for two entire years because he would never pressure her and so he was content with finishing in his pants when he kissed her to make sure she was comfortable. And you want Penelope to settle for a life of loneliness? When Colin is so besotted with her that he dreams of her and breaks every societal expectation in the book as a notorious People Pleaser to run after her and cannot even wait for the morning after being intimate with her to introduce her as his wife to his family in the middle of the night? You want her to turn down Mr "When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible" Bridgerton? For LORD PENGUIN?

Be so serious right now

[skizzim]

sketch of this beautiful screen cap. y’all i am so unwell about these two!

[actual-changeling]

congratulations to @nightgoodomens for making me write the first ficlet of the year! this is so schmoopy and soft it almost makes me want to turn it super angsty instead—but i didn't, so enjoy the happiness while it lasts. inspired by this post.

you can also find it on ao3!

-

"Amazing how they came up with this all on their own, isn't it?"

Crowley leans back and stretches his neck as far as it will go, losing himself not in the noise but the spaces between sparks, the stars no one can see but are there living and shining nevertheless.

They find themselves on a different rooftop every year, always close enough to see it all but far enough away to create their own bubble of shared joy. His coat is hanging open, the cold, smoke-saturated air rushing past him, and when he closes his eyes just for a second, he can pretend the fireworks exploding above him are galaxies being born; his creations, still right where he put them after all this time.

Next to him, Aziraphale hums quietly, knowing all too well that Crowley is not expecting a response—nor would he hear it if he were to give him one. Instead, he keeps his gaze on his face, tracing the lines of his profile as he carefully pulls off his gloves, finger by finger, before stuffing them into his pocket. He remembers, oh, he remembers, the innocent love he saw flowing through him back then, before time, before earth, before Mother became God became the Almighty.

Before all they loved was lost, one way or another. Then again, while defying all possible odds, they managed to find it once more, not just in each other but in humanity.

Another explosion showers them with sparks that will never reach their skin, and a bright shout of joy follows right after, Crowley's eyes impossibly wide.

"Beautiful," he whispers, and Aziraphale cannot stop himself from tentatively pressing their palms together.

Absently yet with deeply ingrained care, Crowley intertwines their hands, pulling him closer to point at a spot in the sky, and there is smoke on his lips and warmth in their bodies—the same heat, given freely, shared.

"If you go that way, do you know where you'll land?"

Shuffling towards him until he can rest his chin on Crowley's shoulder, he carefully lifts their joined hands to brush a kiss over his knuckles, still watching him, carving out a spot for his fire-lit face in his memory.

"Alpha Centauri," he replies softly, leaving another, almost imperceptible kiss on his cheek.

"Alpha Centauri," Crowley confirms, leaning their heads together, and for a while, the world is everything he ever wanted it to be.

[scurvyboy]

wait were you serious about not liking gay people

[karalovesallthegirls]

“i’m not going to write this” you say as you simultaneously create a tag for any future instalments in the same universe. (i see you and i agree lena should have two wives.)

Listen obviously I’m not going to write this story BUT just imagine…. The tension, the forced conversations as Kara and Lena both pretend to still be the women they were all those years ago, pretend like they aren’t strangers with nearly a decade of distance between them. With Kara and Lena experiencing an anxious desperation to get away from each other as deep as their desire to never leave each other’s sight.

Andrea goes to bed before them - she has to, she’s trying to be strong but even she isn’t strong enough to navigate the sleeping arrangement - and when she wakes up in the middle of the night it’s not a surprise to find Lena’s side of the bed empty and untouched. The predictability doesn’t lessen the burn. The guest room sits empty, though, and instead she finds Lena curled up in a ball on the couch with Kara sleeping beside her. Not on the couch, no, instead sat propped on the floor at Lena’s feet, her hands gripping right at her ankles in her sleep. Like she was scared if she let go for a second Lena would vanish.

Everyone wants to know what this means for them - Kara was dead legally, so their marriage was voided in the law, but then Kryptonians mate for life, and it’s not like Lena ever really let her go in her heart - but they have no answers. It’s clear they don’t fit together anymore, not any of them, but the idea of any one of them letting go is unimaginable. So they fight and they fake it and they find ways to connect as the new, scarred versions of themselves, and there’s a palpable jealousy between the three of them.

Andrea can feel Kara’s eyes burning into her when she comforts Lena, when they share well-worn jokes Kara never learned. And Andrea can see the longing in Lena’s every move, every word, and it burns and burns and burns. Andrea stares at Kara and wishes she had stayed dead. Her dreams are filled with the other woman: dreams of her dying again, of her never returning at all. Of her smirk as Lena tells Andrea they’ve run their course because “really, did you think I’d pick you over her?”

Andrea dreams of what Kara’s mouth must taste like, of how her lips and tongue might move against her own, what she must do to have Lena so fully under her spell. Perhaps if she could kiss her then she could know how to give Lena everything she’s been missing for seven years. Maybe then she could be enough for her. She feels almost desperate thinking about it.

And Kara burns just as deeply in her own way, Andrea can feel it. Kara’s eyes track her every move, always studying and analyzing and overwhelming her. The questions are endless every day - tell me about your life, what do you love to do, what makes you tick.

“You are the one person she chose after me. She wanted you,” Kara explains after Andrea’s furious refusal to answer her forty ninth question about her perspective on things. She’s staring at her with a hunger Andrea feels in her toes. “I have to understand. I have to know every part of you.”

Kara looks at Andrea like she wants to devour her whole. Andrea feels the same.

[ndostairlyrium]

I wish I was the floor beneath her shoes

[annabolinas]

May 19, 1536 - Anne Boleyn is Beheaded

"Good Christian people, I have come here to die. For according to the law, and by the law, I am judged to die and therefore, I will speak nothing against it. I am come hither to accuse no man, nor to speak of that whereof I am accused and condemned to die. But I pray God save the King and send him long to reign over you, for a gentler nor a more merciful prince was there never. And to me he was ever a good, a gentle, and sovereign lord. And if any person will meddle of my cause, I require them to judge the best. And thus I take my leave of the world and of you all, and I heartily desire you all to pray for me. O Lord, have mercy on me. To God, I commend my soul.' And then she knelt down, saying, 'To Christ I commend my soul, Jesu receive my soul', divers times, till that her head was stricken off with the sword.” - Anne's execution, as reported in Hall's Chronicle (1548)

""On a scaffold made there for the said execution, the said Queen Anne said thus: 'Masters, I here humbly submit me to the law, as the law hath judged me. And as for mine offenses, I here accuse no man; God knoweth them. I remit them to God, beseeching him to have mercy on my soul. And I beseech Jesu, save my sovereign and master, the King - the most godly, noble, and gentle prince that is, and long to reign over you.' Which words were spoken with a goodly smiling countenance. And this done, she knelt down on her knees and said: "To Jesu Christ, I commend my soul'. And suddenly, the hangman smote off her head at a stroke with a sword." - Anne's execution, as reported in Wriothesley's Chronicle (1559)

"And so she went to the place of her ordeal

To obey the will of justice,

Still showing a serene countenance,

As if she did not grieve for this world in any way;

For her coloring and face were such

That never before did she seem so beautiful ...

There was no one who does not have firm hope

That her spirit will not be in agony,

Given her great faith and wise patience,

Which rose above womanly courage.

Everyone, on the basis of her mightily steady end,

Judges her life to have been prudent

And believes they have committed a great offense

In having thought so ill of her." - Lancelot de Carle's The Story of the Fall of Anne Boleyn (1536, trans. Joann Dellaneva)

"Anne, the late Queen, suffered with sword this day within the Tower upon a new scaffold and died boldly. Jesu take them [i.e. Anne and the five men] to His mercy if it be His will." - John Husee to Lord Lisle, May 19, 1536

[pettyprocrastination]

thinking about how as Aemond’s wife you are the model of perfection. 

Your back is straight as you curtsy when you first meet him and hair neatly braided with fine jewels. Your voice is even and never waivers as you speak to him of your family and how grateful they are for this union. 

You are intelligent and beautiful, the perfect wife. 

It’s why Aemond hardly ever spends time with you. 

He bears no ill will toward you, of course. There is no resentment or hatred to his lady wife, but there are no fond feelings either. 

He knows of courting and romance, his mother taught him everything from a young age. The poor woman would hold her son’s hands tight and explain that a man must not only respect his wife, but truly cherish her. Love her in the eyes of gods and men. As he grew older he noticed the way his father would wave off her constant advice and concerns until the dreaded night where she was the only one defending him after he lost his eye.

But practice was one thing. When you were nothing but a concept. A figment of Aemond’s imagination when he was ten and marriage was only spoken of during his lessons. Before he lost his eye. Before he heard the ladies of the court whispering about his mutilation and before he watched a whore flinch at the sight of his scarring when Aegon dragged him to a brothel on his thirteenth name day. 

He learned then that no matter how much he would love and worship his wife, it would not be returned. 

Rather than attempt to force it (he was no brute and had no intentions of doing something so cruel) he simply let you be by yourself. 

Yes you were married. You sat by one another at every meal and formal event and on the rare occasion he would even ask for your hand in a dance. But Aemond’s affections toward you were few and far to find. 

But there were moments. 

Where his icy facade would weaken and you found yourself able to slip through the cracks. 

Alicent had told you of his “moments” when the engagement had been announced. The queen herself taking you by the hand as you walked through the garden and explaining gently of Aemond’s condition. 

“There are times where he feels a great deal of pain because of the-” She paused, chewing on her cheek while trying to find the most inoffensive way to describe the tragedy that befell her son. “-incident he had as a child.” 

You knew enough of it. Many rumors flew through court the day Aemond targaryen walked in with a patch on his eye after Laenor Velaryan’s funeral at driftmark. Some day it was from a sparring incident, others say it was a mark he bore from the first time he mounted the mighty vhaegar. Others say that the Rouge Prince Daemon Targaryen himself gave it to his younger cousin after crude words were exchanged behind closed doors. 

You didn’t know what was the truth. Aside from the day the princeling got his scar, was the same he got his dragon.

A fair trade, some would say. 

But they didn’t live with the attacks he did. 

Nerve damage, is what the maester’s called it when you asked them for more information. His wound may have healed years prior but the prince would continue to live his life with constant bouts of mind-numbing pain brought on by the slightest touch or too sharp of a wind to his cheek. 

“Senseless fits.” Aegon called it. When he heard about your curiosity about his brother’s condition he had all but cornered you late at night in the hall. “Anything will set him off and send him throwing a tantrum like a belligerent child. It’s quite entertaining.” 

But there’s a moment where the elder brother frowns and you see a shred of concern in his eyes. 

“He doesn’t like to be touched during those moments. It makes the pain worse. So if you’re trying to find some way to comfort him I’d recommend you do something else.” 

What was ‘something else’ you learned, was simply being there. 

Sitting by his side when he curled into himself, trembling fingers reaching out to grab yours and not complaining when his nails dig into the palm of your hand as he cries out in pain. When his breath evens out and the pain subsides, he crawls to you and presses his face to the crook of your neck. He’s far too tired to cover the gnarled scar covering the side of his face but you show no fear or disgust at the sight of it. Your fingers run through his hair, gently combing back the silver tresses and ignoring the tears that stain the shoulder of your gown. 

The next morning your husband would wake in your arms and takes a moment to watch your peaceful expression and the way the morning sun kisses your skin. 

That day Alicent notices her son sits closer to you at breakfast, speaking softly to you of something she cannot understand. But when she sees his hand reach out and grasp yours, she smiles. 

[bisexualwintermoon]

one million qimir x reader fics please thank you

[sonyathesnailll]

salty wives i forgot to post

[aspiring-pansy]

If you don’t want to read about period sex turn away now lol.

Two little bites from my ineffable wives nun fic I’m working on. Let me know what you think