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franki-lew-yo · 11 months

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You know, as a bi person, I really kind of hate the aggressive pissing on hetero ships by virtue of it being hetero and not for the actual faults of the couple or characters.

Mind you; this is not the same problem as homophobes people who insist they don't hate gay stuff but have 0 gay couples and fight headcanons saying that they're gay. Those people, even if they don't know it; are homophobic. Their stubborness to face the fact that they're bigots makes them even more bigoted because bigotry does not inherently = being mean, but is about the inability to accept or think of other people. It's scary how many people earnestly think you have to shout some Westbro Baptist Church bs to be actually homophobic, and all that's before you get to internalized bigotry within the LGBTQ culture. Speaking of which...

I saw a thread where people were hating on Friendship is Magic because Pinkie Pie canonically gets with Weird Al's ponysona. --Obv I'm biased because that being made canon was the only part of the finale I liked as obviously I loved Cheese Sandwich for being his own character apart from Pinkie Pie and Weird Al-- but, BESIDES THAT; The complaint was talking about how some characters were "forced into being straight" by the writers and...really? You're incapable of headcanoning Pinkie and Cheese are bi or in an open marriage or just invalidating Pinkie now because she's the only one of the mane 6 who canonically had a kid with a stallion? Really?

There's being queer baited and wanting more gay couples that are also main characters and not off to the side cyclops police. And then there's getting mad that a character without a canonized sexuality is in a hetero relationship at least once in their life. Not even that they themselves are for sure straight, just that they're married or w the opposite sex.

Naturally, I only have women shippers to talk about. I can't quite talk for gay men or m/m shipcourse. Whenever I see lesbiansapphics be all "even canonically straight characters should be made gay"/"this ship would be fine if it were lesbians"/"this character should have gotten with this character so I can have lesbians", I do know it's all just joking. At least, I'm pretty sure. I know the reason you want more lesbians -I want more lesbians too because lesbians are great! You are right in how and what kind of scrutiny is held against you for liking women and like fiction women liking other fictional women...but...maybe don't be so judgemental of the ladies on your side who happen to like some m/f ships more than your appointed 'good' ship?

"We're not judgemental. You're the one who's judgemental for not being able to take some light rubbing abt your ship being straight."

Am I though? When you hate on a m/fships because seeing people support them in ANY WAY means you have to make fun of them just to validate your own feelings...idk pardon MY autistic arse for feeling a tad bit picked on or lumped in with the really not okay straights. Am I excluded from defending myself because I'm not the ideal lesbian? I'll never survive the sapphic hunger games if I don't have specific standards for my gay couples vs my straight ones?

I've seen people adore The Owl House for being gay because it is but absolutely hate that Willow/Hunter is implied and then be mad that Luz didn't get with Willow because "Amity is a bad girlfriend". It's not Dana's fault that Luz got with the "wrong woman", the show was written with Lumity being endgame and Hunter being an important side character because he's related to the main villain who is a man. Cope. I've seen people hate on MysteryElk because Elktaur/General has a standardly attractive' hunky design; I've seen people hate Edred from Unicorn Warriors Eternal for being an icky 'generic' guy. If you actually know the characters and the relationships in question with their lovers, you'd know that the fact that they're a man is the LEAST problematic thing they got going on! No, the men in these couples being women would not "fix" anything not just for shippers but in the actual show with the relationships. Like, you DO get that the problem is Nowhere King is the aggressor and that Edred is clingy and unsupportive, right? That those are the actual problems with these couples? And GOSH do I now hate Clone High's insistence that JFK is actually a decent person because he's not a 'pick me' like Abe. I hate that, in the wake of the internet realizing how bad tumblr sexymen nice guys really are, we apparently have to pick out the men who are "salvageable" or obsess over the problemed ones problems because they are men. Which- come to think of it, isn't that part of the issue with SnapeWife-types who stan flawed male characters like their the second coming but antagonize women characters for being flawed? Shouldn't we, idk, maybe encourage people to love characters for their flaws and not because we can 'fix' them somehow or hate them because they exemplify a person you hate irl?

Overall, the (hopefully) ironic demand for gay couples all the time like it's a supremacy is kind of irritating to me. I'm just not into living with the "this majority group are all the things wrong"-mindset, or even a "you deserve to feel the bigotry I already experience because that's cathartic for me". I know exactly why people are in pain. I know that pain because a lot of it is the same I have to go through. The reason I'm 'biting back', not at the gay community I'm in but at this specific mindset? Yeah it IS because I'm obsessed with people judging me, but I think it's because I'm self aware of this problem I have that I don't want to indulge the part of me that wants petty payback at all. When and if I like my petty payback, I want to make sure it's not at the people who might be judging me vs the people who actually, honestly are.

TL;DR: I love me some 'straights are not okay'-jokes, but there comes a point where I can not hear them when you clearly don't mean it as a joke.

No amount of active bigotry in this world will make the toxic absolutism you got as a result of that bigotry something I need to deal with as the butt of your anger. I and other bi/pan/ally people are not your stress dolls, inherently. The straights (a group) are not okay, not the straights (individuals), k?

#rant #vent #shipping #shipping discourse #fandom discourse #lgbtq #lgbtq representation

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summercreolefanfictioner · 2 years

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the crown and the throne (DiaLovers fanfic // Game of Thrones AU)

he who cut off the promise || ayato, yui, laito, kanato

Ayato was in deep pain.

Deep.

Searing.

Pain.

He grimaced, his back leaning on the cold wall of his prison cell as he struggled to stop the blood flowing from his right hand, which had been cut off earlier. He tries not to make a sound as he bandaged himself, forcing himself to bite his tongue until it bleeds. After all, he won't give these fuckers the satisfaction of knowing he's in pain.

It's a good thing they didn't cut my left, he thought because he knew he was one of those rare swordsmen who fought with their left hand.

Once done, he quietly sighed, wiping off the sweat from his forehead as he reminisced about the events that had transpired before this whole thing.

When the dragon led him out of the forest, he was brought into a town untouched by any other houses. In fact, it was a town that never knew anything about the war between kingdoms nor the upcoming battle between the living and the undead. All the people know is that there is no such thing as war, but long-lasting peace.

Ah... another bunch who believes in false positivity. They never know what's coming for them.

Ayato decided to rest in this town for a bit, and it surprised him that no one knew him. Like they didn't question why he had that crass yet sharp Westerosi accent or how he can speak like a prince (well, he is one). It's like he's just an ordinary man, not an exiled prince from the King's Landing.

If Ayato was being reckless, he might've probably hatched a plan to take Yui away and live with her peacefully in this town. Then, hopefully, after a few months, they will marry and have kids of their own, bundle of joys that they will spoil rotten as they grow old and wrinkly.

But Ayato knew it was a fleeting dream. After all, there will come a time his enemies would attack him and he'll just be putting Yui in danger again. Plus, Yui has changed. Word spread of her flight from the Tsukinamis as she rode on a giant dragon and conquered a vast land in the Dothraki sea.

She's a fine queen on her own, he mused with a sad smile. She can do fine without me.

After a few days, Ayato decided to set out to the next town when a group of bandits cornered a poor whore and tried to fuck her during daylight. Ayato didn't know why he defended her and decided these men should just take him as their prisoner.

He thinks maybe the woman reminded him of Yui and how she was raped by her so-called dead "husband."

So when one of the men recognized him as the exiled prince, they wasted no time mocking him. Instead, they put out both of his hands, the bandit leader watching him to see if he would yield.

He licked his lips in delight. "Tell me, oh great prince. Which hand will we cut off?"

Ayato remained indignant, staring at the pinky on his right hand as his mind remembered the last time he saw Yui and the promise they made. Their skin was covered in nothing but the sheets as the moon illuminated her beauty. She was a sad woman, but she willed herself to be strong as she smiled.

"Promise me, Ayato-kun," she whispered, holding out her pinky to him. Tears were slipping out of her eyes and he brushed his thumb to wipe them off from her cheek.

"There's no need to cry, Chichinashi," he assured, slightly guilty that his love has brought her nothing but pain. "I will always love you. I have your locket, remember?"

"But promise me!" she insisted. "Promise me, that one day, we will be together. I don't care where. I just... want to be with you."

Ayato sighed, holding out his right pinky and entangling it with hers. He leaned his face close, his forehead touching hers.

"I promise Lady Yui of the House Komori, that I, Prince Ayato of the House Sakamaki, will take her, wed her, and be with her until the end of our days."

Because Ayato had been staring for a good while at his right hand, the bandit leader decided to cut it off from him as quick as possible, boasting how he has finally taken the armor of the devil's spawn.

And that's where it led him to his prison cell—starving, cold, wounded, and smelling of piss and shit. They even took Hildbrand from him.

He gritted his teeth, narrow green eyes with a murderous glint.

These fuckers will not make it alive.

He thought of a plan, then he remembered the time when he and Laito first discovered Kanato's fire magic. Kanato stole a book from the private shelf of the castle's library, teaching them how to summon magic. Kanato wanted to learn how to control his fire better and he didn't want his brothers to be left out, so he thought they could try learning a spell or two.

"But you're the only one here with magic," Ayato argued, scrutinizing the Valyrian words on the page that teaches about familiar summoning.

"We're triplets, you know," Kanato pointed out as Laito set up the scarecrows the middle triplet made while their mother wasn't looking. "I'm sure you two can do magic."

"Are you sure about that, Kanato-kun?" Laito inquired, doubtful about his words.

Kanato nodded. "Just repeat after me. You two will be able to use this magic someday. Gūrogon skoros pōnta enkagon."

Ayato and Laito stared at each other, completely distrusting Kanato, but decided to just get on with it.

"Gūrogon skoros pōnta enkagon," they chanted in unison.

And the next thing, a cloud of bats came swarming in the garden, attacking the scarecrows until nothing was left. Ayato and Laito were both stunned, watching Kanato approach the bats and give them fruits as their reward.

"See!" Kanato told them with glee. "I knew you two can do magic."

But Ayato has never used that spell afterward, so he wasn't sure if this will work this time.

"Just repeat after me. You two will be able to use this magic someday."

He sighed.

"Gūrogon skoros pōnta enkagon." (1)

And the next thing there was a rumbling. Ayato heard the men outside his cell confused and scared, then a cloud of bats came swarming into the hideout, filling all the walls with their blood and screams. Some of the bats came to rescue him, licking his open wound so he wouldn't suffer so much from blood loss.

While they were doing so, the bandit leader entered his cell, threatening Ayato with his own sword.

"You did this, you exile bastard!" he yelled, witnessing how more bats were swarming Ayato than usual.

The only reply Ayato gave him was an evil smirk, similar to what he was donning when he cut off his right hand. Having none of his insults, the bandit leader charged at him, alerting the bats who were healing Ayato.

And the next thing, the bats attacked him, sucking the blood out of him and eating his flesh until he was nothing but bones. As the bats were feasting on the bandit leader, Ayato stood up from the floor, picked up his sword, and returned it to his scabbard.

He walked out of his cell, marveling at the view of the dead men while the bats feasted on their leftover food. There was a leftover beer from a mug, and he didn't mind if it was touched or not. So he drank it to his heart's content, slamming down the mug on the table once he was done.

He wiped off his mouth and hummed in satisfaction.

"Nothing beats being alive in this shithole, you fuckers," he said to the dead men in the room.

Well, as if they would know. They're fucking dead, these little pieces of cunt meat.

Afterward, Ayato cleaned himself and stole some of their clothes and their remaining gold bars. He'll head to the next town, get a new arm, and possibly a new army of his own.

After all, he has to take back what is owed to him.

TRANSLATION:

(1) Take what they owe (this is actually the words of the House Sakamaki)

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themultifandomgal · 2 years

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Michael Gray- Return Pt1

Writing this I had no destination in mind so I literally wrote it as it came to mind. Hope it's ok

"YN where the bloody hell 'ave you been?" Arthur shouts as you walk into the Shelbys privet room in the Garrison

"About" you shrug sitting next to John, stealing his cigarette and inhaling

"It's been months since we've see you" Polly comments pouring you a glass of whiskey

"Yeah, well needed to get away for a bit" you sigh thinking of your boyfriend who you walked in on fucking your best friend "anyway, how's everyone?"

"Could 'ave fucking told us where you were instead of leaving that bloody note with Isaiah. Fucking hell YN we were bloody worried"

"Well I can handle myself" you reply to Arthur

"Don't we know it" Tommy mutters. The door to the room opens and in walks a man you've not see before

"Sorry mate, family only in here" you smirk at the guy while looking him up and down

"Yeah and you are?"

"This here Michael is YN" John places an arm around your shoulders

"And? she said family only in here so what's my relation to her?"

"She's not blood related to us, family nonetheless" Polly tells him

"Im bloody confused"

"Figures" you comment "my sister was Martha Shelby, Johns late wife. Now who the fuck are you?"

"Unlike you I'm actually blood related. Micheal Gray" he places both of his hands in his pockets

"Ahhh Polly's long lost son. So Tommy did find you in the end"

"You knew Tommy was looking for him?" Polly ask sitting down next to you

"Yeah. He told me the day before I found Alex and Marie, bloody backstabbing bitch" you cross your arms in anger

"Hey, they've gone, left. Don't need to worry about them now eh?" Tommy says taking a sip of his drink.

The evening is full of drinks, laughter and card games. When you leave Michael is adamant that he has to walk with you 'be a gentleman' he said to which the Shelby brothers all start laughing knowing you are more than capable of handling yourself

"You cold?" Micheal starts to take off his blazer

"I'm fine, it's actually warm out" you laugh

"Oh, it's just I've seen the others do it for girls they walk home"

"Ah they walk the women home do they?" you stop in the middle of the street

"Yeah they erm..."

"Your still quite naive aren't you pretty boy" you pat his face while smiling

"What do you...."

"They aren't just walking them home. They're getting some action for their troubles"

"Oh"

"The taking off of the blazer is their 'let's have sex tonight' move" you continue to walk down the street towards your house

"I see. Does my mum know?"

"Of course she does" you clear your throat "if you boys insist on fucking these woman at least be somewhat of a gentleman" you put on your best Polly Gray voice making both you and Micheal laugh

"How did you get mixed up with that lot? I know you said you're Martha's sister, but why are you still..."

"Why am I still involved?" Micheal nods his head "well, John married Martha young because she fell pregnant and our parents kicked her out. She was 17 I was 12. I wasn't allowed to see my big sister, but then they caught the Spanish flu. They both died so I moved in with John and Martha. A year later she was pregnant, this time things went bad and she died. I stayed with John but then he went to war so me and the kids moved in with Polly"

"How old are you now?"

"17 nearly 18. You?"

"18"

"Good to know"

"So where have you been?" Micheal asks he actually seems interested

"Stayed with a Ada in London. Told her to stay quiet, couldn't deal with the Shelby boys"

"Wait" Micheal stops me again "you said you moved in with my mum, so where are you living now?"

"With your mum"

"So why are we at the other end of town" he asks face laced with confusion

"Never said I was going home" you smirk

"Your a minx" he points making you laugh.

This time you actually are on your way home after having a nice walk and chat with Micheal. Unfortunately some men approach you

"Hey YN!"

"Here we go" you sigh

"You know them?"

"Alex's friends. Just, let me deal with them"

"And you called Marie the whore" you roll your eyes

"The Shelbys not enough for you?"

"Fuck off James" you try to move past him but he places his hands on your arm

"Get your hands off her"

"Micheal it's fine I can handle myself"

"We're just having a bit of fun aren't we YN" James moves a piece of hair from your face

"I'm going to make this very clear. Fuck off and leave me alone or else you'll be joining Alex and Marie"

"You wouldn't" he laughs

"You know I would"

"I'd like to see you try" James grabs your face with his hands but you take a gun that you had hidden under your dress and point it to the side of his head "I suggest you fuck off" James let's go of you and runs off with his friends leaving just you and Micheal

"Bloody hell woman" Micheal breathes out "why do you have a fucking gun? and what did you mean by they'd join Marie and Alex?"

"Have you met the Shelbys?" you chuckle putting the gun back under your dress "Arthur taught me how to use a gun to protect myself when alone. They worry and I haven't got the Shelby name to protect me so the gun is the best I've got, though I've never actually had to use it thank god"

"You're not what I was expecting" you frown a little as you walk back to Polly's place "they talked about you, well John and Arthur kept asking to find you. Tommy said you'd be back when you were ready"

"He knows me pretty well huh?"

"Seems it"

You finally arrive home

"You want a cup of tea?" Micheal asks you

"Maybe something stronger?" you sit at the table. Micheal takes two glasses and pours a drink in each

"I enjoyed our walk this evening"

"Me to" you smile "thanks" you say as he places a glass in front of you "so how are you adjusting to Peaky Blinders life?"

"Weird. For years I didn't have a family except for mother. Then Tommy found me and now I've got another mum and cousins who argue a lot"

"You get used to it. I'm sorry about your sister"

"Sorry about yours" you both sit in silence while finishing your drink

"I'm going to head off to bed. I guess I'll see you in morning"

"Good night"

"Night" you put your cup in the sink and head off up to bed.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders reader #peaky blinders imagine #michael gray x reader #michael gray #shelby brothers

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theonlypastel · 9 months

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Recently I watched the 2016 romance/drama “The Unmarried Wife”, per watching a video Kenny J.D. posted about said movie. The amount of actual rage that filled me when I watch it can’t even be put into words unless I write a review about so, here we are. Anywho, these are my thoughts on

The Unmarried Wife.

⚠️WARNING ⚠️ SPOILERS AHEAD. READ WITH CAUTION.

If you haven’t watched the movie and don’t plan to, I will bring you up to speed. Our main character Anne meets her future Husband and father of her child Geoff and they hit it off instantly. They get married and move in together and everything is fine, until Anne gets a promotion because the former employee was accused of infidelity. This seems to cause a rift in Anne and Geof’s relationship and they start to grow apart. In attempts to bring some spark back into their relationship Anne surprises him at work when she catches him in the act with his co-worker. She ultimately makes the decision to stay with him for the sake of their son Ino, even though it is awkward between them. As they are mending their relationship Geoff cheats on Anne again even after constantly reassuring her he isn’t cheating on her again. At her breaking point Anne meets Bryan, whom she meets at a family function. They bond over failed marriages and eventually form a relationship. In the midst of all this Anne is trying to get a divorce from Geoff finalized. Things are going relatively well when Anne and Geoff are advised to have a “family outing” with Ino by Ino’s teacher. During said outing Bryan gets jealous and follows them there, forcing Anne to tell him she loves him over the phone. They get into an argument back at Bryan’s apartment when Bryan’s supposed ex wife barges in. Turns out he lied to Anne just to be with her, making her his mistress, her worst nightmare. She pretty much blocks him until one day he comes throwing rocks at her house angrily to get her to talk to him, and he almost hurt Ino. Because of the insistent she cuts all ties with Bryan. Fast forward a little bit in time and Anne and Geoff are happily co-parenting Ino. Geoff asks Anne if she would ever be up to starting over between the both of them, despite the fact that he cheated more than once, and while Anne is still healing from everything. However Anne says no, at least not now, and we end on a beautiful shot of a happy family playing together.

So my immediate fist thought after finishing this movie is Omg, the audacity of men. The whole movie not a single man that Anne is romantically involved with treats her with the bare minimum of respect. Geoff cheats on her on way more than one occasion, AND even gets another woman pregnant and still has the AUDACITY to beg Anne for forgiveness?!??

And at the end they act as if Anne being cheated out of a good relationship by stupid men had barely any effect on her. She WILLINGLY keeps Geoff around. There are so many things wrong here.

Her first inclination should have been to end it with Geoff the first time because even if she was staying with him for Ino, having parent that won’t talk and/or trust each other and argue all the time is more than likely worse that mmm having 2 Christmases.

Also one thing that doesn’t make sense is why she stayed with him even after her past. [For some context her mom got cheated on by Anne’s dad.] Considering her relation to cheating and how it can effect feelings, it doesn’t really make sense for her to tolerate Geoff cheating.

On the topic of things that don’t make sense, the way the production team was trying to tell the story was quite confusing. It was told through a series of flashbacks due to Anne getting hit in the head with a glass bottle and falling.

The pacing of the story is a bit odd as well. Something dramatically would happen and they just brush it off almost as if it didn’t happen.

At any rate, the Unmarried Wife is a decent watch if you like messy movies like me. Once you get used to the flash back, it gets easier to understand the story. The writing is bearable and the shots are pretty good. The musical score is probably my favorite part of the whole movie.

Anyways I could talk about how bad this movie is, but I will spare you my thoughts. If you choose to watch “The Unmarried Wife”, it can be found in Netflix.

And if not, watch gameboys it’s better :)

#philipines drama #Netflix #netflix drama #pinoy drama #the unmarried wife

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ebdanon · 14 days

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(part 2) My dad caught COVID on the plane back. Which meant he couldn't attend the wedding-related "meetings" we planned with the parents. Which made him unbearable. Both sides were trying to make the whole thing as cheap as possible (the parents pay for weddings here)- the cheapest menu, venue, music, everything. I don't remember a lot of things from the planning. But at one point they got so overbearing and trying to undermine everything we just gave up. In our country, the bride's parents buy the wedding ring for her husband, and vice versa. We were so sick of their behavior, that we decided to get ridiculously expensive wedding bands since both sides wanted to show off how much money they had. Because they rushed everything, we ended up married 6 weeks after the proposal. There were about 30 people, all of them mandatory for weddings (there would have been more people if no one was in a rush but not everyone can get a last-minute plane ticket). I managed to get all of one friend to attend, my husband had no friends. Because the parents planned the guest list and we said only the core mandatory people, his parents didn't even ask if he would be inviting any friends. My parents paid for my dresses for the few different official events with the in-laws that tradition demands. My husband's parents (who again, knew about this for a year and a half already, were complaining they were running out of money) got him nothing. Official events include family dinner at my place, and family dinner at his place - only parents and siblings and their partners. Then we did the church ceremony with the 30 people, with a lunch at a restaurant afterward. The actual marriage certificate we got two weeks later on our actual anniversary, and we had lunch after with the 10 people in attendance. The restaurants were shitty both times. Since we lived out of town and were busy with work, our parents had to check which places we could book for the set date. They made a list of the cheapest places in town, and they're all cheap for good reason. Terrible interior, bad service, cheap food, and barely any space. They also made a list for the music, and did the same thing again - listed the cheapest bands which had like three people in them. Thankfully we handled the photographer so the photos were amazing. I worked with a florist for the decoration which made the place a bit nicer, but still pretty shit.

I never wanted a traditional wedding. I just wanted to skip the dumb and outdated traditions, get a marriage certificate, and have a small gathering at a nice venue. Well, we skipped most of the traditions. The traditions I hate include the young unmarried men in the family hiding the bride in her house and only giving her up in exchange for money from the groom and best man. There's shit like dancing on tables, a couple of other "money in exchange for the bride" things, and copious photos of the bride giving gifts to her future in-laws family members. After the wedding, everyone goes back to the groom's house where the bride is supposed to dip her finger in honey. oil? (I forget) and draw crosses on the door to her new home, and then the party continues. My MIL insisted I do that one, my FIL filmed it and sent it to my parents. Because no one went to the groom's house because we weren't doing that part.

I remember one conversation I had with my narcissistic grandma the day before, who insisted we still do all that "giving away the bride for money" in the restaurant itself. This is the same woman who pretended to have a psychotic break a week before the wedding and spent a few days in the hospital. We know she pretended because the doctors told us as much, but they still kept her for "observation" to calm her down. She pretended she didn't recognize anyone or anything, but was magically fine when my uncle called her up.

And then I was married and we spent the rest of the month living with my in-laws (as per tradition) to get all the documents sorted and get the marriage certificate. My parents gave us a huge chunk of money as a wedding gift, and his parents promised us half of the house they own (I have a recent story on this I'll share another time) as the other half would go to their daughter.

Living with them was when I learned how big my MIL's drinking problem was. She would go on these screaming rants about how my parents were master manipulators and planned everything how they wanted it to be, screaming at my husband for being weak-willed and getting fucked over according to her. My husband and I would go over to my parents, and the next day my MIL would be screaming about how we went over to get instructions on how to fuck up everything. It was even worse when she was drunk. We got everything with the documents sorted and got the hell out of dodge as soon as we could to our apartment. And we didn't speak to each other for a month and a half after that. Just trying to decompress and destress from the shitstorm we went through. When we finally started talking to each other again and started to relax, we spent a couple of weeks going over the shit that went down, which was stressful again. Finally, we went back to normal, the stress went away, and we both got incredibly sick. It was like the high adrenaline from the stress was keeping us going until we took a breather and we both crashed. While mine was a chronic flare-up, my husband's was a brand new thing and we spent the next four months going to over 40 doctors to figure out what it was. That's a whole 9 shitty shitty months that were supposed to be incredibly happy. We had tons of plans that we had to put off or completely cancel due to the drama from our families. And when the dust settled, and they tried to reminisce about the "wedding", all I told them was that I was just grateful to be invited. Because none of it was for me. The only things we got to organize were the photographer and the florist. It was like the random small tasks you would give to someone because they have free time and those things aren't too big of a deal so they can't fuck them up too badly. I only have a vague idea of why they were rushing everything - our original plan was to get the certificate and buy people lunch, we'd do the church ceremony and everything else at a later time when venues would be available, which was likely months later. We were planning on moving abroad, so everyone was likely panicking that we would never get married in a church if we didn't do it then and there. But these are just assumptions from throwaway things I've heard since then. Our travel agent actually had the dream little wedding that I had wanted a week after we did. The location, music, decor, menu, hell, even everyone's outfits and the weather, everything was perfect, just how I wanted it to be. I just wanna say I'm happy for her, even if I couldn't, I'm happy someone else got to do that whole idea. And I'm sure it took months of planning which we didn't have for some mysterious reason.

Oh, and as soon as the photos of us were shared online, I started getting phone calls from people asking if I was pregnant because it happened so fast. I started joking that I would start sending people my used tampons to just avoid coming up with an explanation of why the rush happened.

Speaking of pregnancy I just remembered, that as soon as we walked out of the church, my and his parents wished us a happy life and a baby as soon as possible. I laughed and told them that would require some sort of higher power because it was medically impossible at the time, and my dad said "Accidents happen".... Both sets of parents knew I had issues with my hormones that basically make me infertile until they're fixed. And I'm keeping some of them in check with birth control. So even if I stop taking it, I'm still infertile, I just don't get periods without birth control. But sure, accidents happen lmao

That's as much as I could summarize and remember, this happened almost two years ago. I'll be sharing more MIL-specific lore as soon as I can.

can i fist fight your entire family? ill pay for my flight too because holy FUCK??????????

#this was a CRAZY ride to read oh my god.#im so sorry all of that happened this sounds like an absolute nightmare #please tell me you and your husband have access to mental health resources because wow #this would turn me into the joker im so serious. like i would become a cartoon villain to these people #idk if its an american thing or just my family but my family is so hands off about this stuff???#like theyre just like ok tell is when and where to show up thanks.#i would have a migraine for the next eternity im so sorru #asks #lore anon

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thegeminisage · 3 years

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terrible things i have beheld with mine own two human eyeballs today

#personal #it is honestly genuinely tragic that men arent taught to pick up after themselves #every single man i've ever cleaned house for lives in absolutely WRETCHED filth #it's only been two weeks for this particular client and i almost gagged when i walked in the door from the smell #even with my mask and nerfed sense of smell #he doesn't even have any animals just all of his food is ROTTING #i can't believe anyone can live like this and not go insane #edit: by single i mean unmarried #married men are fine because they have a woman in the house insisting on a certain standard of living #but unmarried men just live in the worst conditions it is genuinely horrific

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Laisse tomber les filles 5

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; size kink; age gap; manipulation; tags to be added as story progresses

This is a dark!fic and Lee Bodecker x (short) reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find yourself ostracized on campus by your shyness, but your reticence won’t deter an unwanted suitor.

Note: That slow creep, tho

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You looked down at your body and fidgeted. The skirt was so short you pulled on a pair of stockings in an effort to hide your legs, and it was tight like the blouse. Both pieces seemed to be just a size too small. The boots were higher than any heels you’d worn before and you felt awkward in the get-up.

Noon. That was when he told you the night before as he kept stalling you from leaving. Every time you were ready to push open the car door, he had something else to say. You agreed to noon just to appease him so you could run and hide in your dorm.

You pulled on your long pea coat and stuffed your textbooks into your canvas bag with the leather straps. You hiked it up on your shoulder and slung your pocketbook from your other. You stepped out into the hallway and wobbled on the heels. You clung to the handle as you kept yourself upright.

“Wow, you look special,” Gina remarked as she peeked through the kitchen door.

“Um, thanks,” you pulled your coat closed and buttoned it, “it’s… new.”

“It’s cute,” she said as Lisa came to peek through the doorway as well.

“Where are you going?” the second girl asked.

“To study,” you said as you carefully made your way to the heavy door that led to the stairwell.

“Oh, study, huh?” she teased, “can’t be alone then.”

“I’m gonna be late,” you kept your chin down.

“Don’t let us hold you up,” Gina said as you opened the door and stepped out.

“I didn’t know she had anywhere to go,” Lisa’s trilled and her voice slipped into the hall just before the wood slid back into the frame.

You exhaled through your nose and braced the railing for your slow and treacherous descent. As you got to the bottom, you teetered and pressed yourself to the wall as two girls came through the door. You watched them flit up the stairs and scurried out into the spring air.

The weather was as bitter as before. It smelled like wet grass and mud. The sun beamed down warmly and made you sweat in your jacket. You gripped the strap of your bag and cleared the single step to even ground.

“Honey,” the voice drew your eyes up from your boots and you blinked.

The sheriff stood by his cruiser as he watched you. He didn’t wear his uniform, instead a pair of grey slacks and pure white button-up under his usual leather. He smiled and came to the end of the walk as you hesitantly closed the gap. Your heel caught in a crack and you stumbled. He caught you and gave a soft laugh.

“You okay?” he asked as he held your elbow in one hand and his other went to the small of your back.

“I’m fine,” you righted yourself and parted from him, “just didn’t see the crack.”

“Here,” he tugged on your heavy knapsack, “let me take this.”

You let him, unsure what to say. He was early. Your watch assured you he was a whole twenty minutes ahead of schedule. Your own timing was purely habit as you hated to keep others waiting.

“Thank you,” you squeaked as he put the bag in the back seat.

“So, can I see it?” he asked as he shut the door.

“What?” your brows knitted in confusion.

“The clothes,” he said lightly, “that is what you’re hidin’ under there, right?” he pointed at a large round button on your pea coat, “it’s too warm to be wearin’ all that.”

“Can I wait… until we’re at your, um, place?” you clutched the round collar of your coat anxiously.

“Oh, for my eyes only, huh,” he teased with a wink.

“No, I just… can we go?”

“Course, honey,” he brushed by you and opened the front door, “get in.”

You sat and pulled your legs in, hooking them around the edge of the seat stiffly as you crossed one over the other. The door closed and you picked at the metal clasp of your pocket book and chewed your lip. Why were you doing all this? You were an adult, he said it himself, you could say no…

You glanced around, his sheriff’s hat sat on the dashboard and you shook your head. No, you couldn’t. He was a cop and your discomfort wasn’t a reason to be uncourteous. Your mother always told you to push yourself out of your safe zone. She hated how you always held yourself back because you were scared. It was difficult enough to get you out of the house and into a dorm.

Once he was in the car, there was no turning back. You coudn’t lie about feeling sick or claim a forgotten study group, you were on your way and suddenly you were filled with panic. What if he wasn’t taking you to his house? Did that star on his hat really mean he was a good person?

“Um,” the syllable slipped from you nervously.

“What is it, hon?” he asked as he gripped the grooved wheel.

“Um, I don’t…” you stuttered as you searched for words. You couldn’t let him know what you were really afraid of, “so, uh, I would’ve thought that… you have a wife?”

His brows flicked up as you peeked over at him. He pushed his bottom lip out and hummed. He clicked his tongue and sighed.

“Well, I did,” he admitted, “but I don’t like to talk about it too much. She, er, she’s married to my deputy now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said quietly, “I didn’t…”

“It’s all over now,” he shrugged, “you know, I’ve moved on. We’re both happier for it.”

“That’s… good, then,” you murmured.

“Must be, I met you,” he smiled, “huh?”

“Well, I…” your hand shook and hid it up your sleeve, “I don’t know, I’m a bit young, aren’t I?”

“Young?” he said, “you don’t act it. You’re a lot more mature than lots of ladies I know. The way you carry yourself… you work hard I can tell. I don’t see your age, just a good woman.”

“Hmm,” you pursed your lips tightly.

“I mean it,” he insisted, “you got character beyond your age.”

“Thank you, but I… I don’t know,” you picked at the cuff of your coat.

“You brought your books?” he said, “must’ve. That bag sure is heavy. I got a place for ya all set up.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll be workin’ on supper, I hope you don’t mind the noise,” he drawled, “you know, I don’t cook often so I might be a bit… lost.”

“You don’t have to cook for me,” you offered, “really, it’s… too much.”

“I wanna, honey,” he said, “ain’t it special? A fellow cookin’ for his lady?”

“Uh, oh,” you frowned, “sure.”

“And you can turn the radio on if you like,” he continued, “it’s new.”

You nodded and listened meekly. Every argument you had for him was quickly shot down. He was so good at telling you how you were wrong or what to do while making it feel like good advice. Each demand, each want, was presented as common sense. It was impossible to argue with him because deep inside, you couldn’t argue with yourself.

While your gut told you something was off, your head assured you of your paranoia. You didn’t know any better, did you? You didn’t know how these things worked, how men and women got along, so of course it would feel strange to you. But he knew and he was so confident about it, he must be right.

📚

Lee’s house was nice, just outside the city limits. It reminded you of the suburban homes you passed on your way to high school in your hometown. You only ever lived in an apartment with your parents and so found the place extravagant compared to boxy until attached hallways noisy with troublesome neighbours.

He led you onto the porch, the wood painted white, and opened both the screen door and thicker wood one ahead of you. You were forced to brush against him as you entered. He was quick to trail you, the screen snapping shut behind him. He hung his leather coat and tugged on the back of your collar as he plunked down your bookbag.

“Go on then,” he said, “let me see it, honey.”

You closed your eyes and steeled yourself. You forced a smile as you undid the first button and slowly turned to him. You unhooked each until the coat fell open and you let it fall down your arms. You quickly swept it up and he took it to hang beside his own.

He faced you and gripped your shoulders as he looked down at you. You shied away as his eyes roved down your body and you took a step back as you crossed your arms.

“They’re a bit tight,” you said.

“You look mighty fine,” he slithered, “look like they fit just nice.”

“Erm,” you rocked on the balls of your feet.

He smiled and knelt to untie his shoes. You unzipped the boots and stepped out of them, stretching your arches as before you brought them flat. You pushed them beside his shoes as his strong cologne tickled your nose.

“Just in here, honey,” he waved you through a doorway, “come on.”

He went back to grab your bag and pointed you in ahead of him as he returned to you. He went to the sofa and dropped the bag on the cushion.

“You can get settled in,” he sidled away from the coffee table, “the radios there,” he gestured to the console table along the wall, “record player too.”

“Thanks, I should be fine,” you neared and sat on the edge of the couch.

“I’ll be through there, in the kitchen,” he peeked over at another door, “you need anything, just holler.”

“I will,” you twined your fingers through each other, “thank you.”

He smirked and shoved his hands in his pockets as he lingered on the other side of the table, “you do look nice in that,” he looked you up and down again, “you don’t even need the stockings with how warm it’s gettin’.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled and brought your fingers to tap your lip, “guess I should get started.”

You reached for the flap of your book bag and slid out a heavy textbook. You sensed him watching you before his feet slowly turned away and he strode from the room. You opened the book and flipped through the pages mindlessly.

This house was far enough from the city, far enough that you were stranded, and much of the area was new to you. The realisation made you tremble as you counted the page numbers.

#lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #fic #dark fic #series #laisse tomber les filles #dark!fic #the devil all the time #au #college au

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mothandpidgeon · 3 years

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REPUTATION - Chapter 1

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Words: 3615

Rating: T

Warnings: slowest of burns, gender swapped characters, TOUCHING HANDS, no us of y/n

Summary: After scandal damages your reputation, you are finished with society. But a mysterious bachelor by the name of Mr. Djarin has a reputation of his own. And you are determined to keep yourself from getting mixed up with him.

A/N: So after THAT LOOK I know we are all working on our Darcy fics. I feel very intimidated to give it a go when so many talented writers are going to be doing it better but I really haven’t been able to think about anything else.

Also please forgive any historical inaccuracies. I hate those even when they’re on purpose so let’s just agree to ignore them.

And thanks @pascalslittlebrat for taking a look at this and listening to all of my feelings.

MASTERLIST

You used to enjoy going to balls. You used to feel excitement when you got dressed in a fine white gown, your hair set elegantly with little silk flowers. Your heart would race when you would arrive and see all of the gentlemen in their finery. And dancing. There was a time when you could stay on your feet all night, drinking in the attention of all the eligible bachelors.

Those days were long gone. Now you felt a rock in the pit of your stomach the entire time. You counted the moments until you could leave. You couldn’t even bother to put on a pleasant expression, spending entire evenings sullen and taciturn. But at least this was the last ball you had to drag yourself to this season.

You had been forced to spend yet another season in town. This time you had the company of your younger cousin Julia, though her older sister Emma was a difficult chaperone. And tonight you were being hosted by Captain Charles Dune and his wife Lady Georgiana Karga. They threw wonderful parties– at least you had enjoyed them when you enjoyed those things. It was a masquerade ball which meant Julia had picked out a dainty little mask for you to wear. You couldn’t be bothered to choose one yourself but Julia had an eye for this sort of thing. And you liked the creamy white bow that she tied into your hair.

Julia was looking forward to tonight. She was very popular despite being related to you, containing all of the traits a man would want in a wife– good looks, excellent conversational skills, and a talent at the piano forte. She had a number of young men constantly calling on her and her dance card was practically full before she had even gotten into the carriage.

“You look so pretty!” she insisted, though she was probably admiring the work she had done to make you presentable.

Emma was looking forward to being finished with you. She had been married for three years and fancied herself an authority on the subject. She spent much of her time lecturing you on the proper way to comport yourself. Tonight she was just trying to get you to quit sulking.

“Would you at least try to be sociable?” Emma requested with a frown.

“I don’t much see the point,” you huffed. “Do you really believe I’ll get a proposal at the last ball of the season?”

“Lady Georgiana has invited an old friend of the captain’s,” Emma encouraged. “Mr. Djarin. She says he’s quite admirable.”

You rolled your eyes. You both knew you were headed for spinsterhood. Emma had lost her mind if she thought that she was going to pawn you off on some aged, paunchy bachelor.

The ball went exactly as you had expected. You watched Julia dance and laugh. You stood by as Emma talked animatedly when she wasn’t giving you sharp looks. Though there were gentlemen without partners, no one asked you to dance aside from Captain Dune and a few of the unlucky young men he could press into service.

Even now at the end of the season, where so many engagements had been made, you could still feel the eyes on you, the whispers behind hands. It was as if they thought the masks covered their looks of derision. You knew what they were saying, why they snickered and turned away.

It was all because of your broken engagement to Mr. Vanth. There was no returning from a situation like that. You had been cast aside and all of the ton could enjoy surmising the reasons. Your reputation was in shambles.

But it wasn’t the fact that he had gone and married some heiress not two months after he’d given you up that made it all so painful. What had really destroyed you was the fact that you’d let yourself love him. He wasn’t the best choice though he was handsome and had enough income to keep you comfortable. But you had given your heart to him and he had crushed it. And you looked like an utter fool for it.

For some reason, tonight it all stung. You’d learned to drown out the comments and ignore the sideways glances. But here you were, closing yet another season, as single as the day you’d come out. You’d begged your poor mother to let you stay at home in the country so that you wouldn’t have to suffer these indignities. It was pathetic that you had even shown up in London. But she had insisted, had assured you that you were still desirable, still attractive and spirited.

You certainly didn’t feel that way now. You snatched up a glass of wine from a nearby valet and drank it down in nearly a single gulp. It did little to soothe your nerves.

You needed air. You took another glass and sped towards the garden. The noise and music floated out here but the fresh air was cool and the garden looked quite empty, the vacant pathways lit by torches.

You’d once been so much fun. You’d laughed and smiled. You’d had no worries about your future. Now, not only were you a laughing stock but you would be lucky if you could rely on your cousin’s generosity for the rest of your days lest you end up in the poor house.

Tears were welling up in your eyes. You tore the mask off of your face to wipe them away. With your vision clouded and in the dim of the garden, you didn’t see the man that was standing in the shadows until you’d run right into his back.

You’d hit him with enough force to knock you back a few paces but he hardly flinched. He was tall and broad shouldered and he turned to look at you with curiosity. He was alone, thank heavens. He wore a black tailcoat and under that a waist coat that looked like silver and shined like silk. You didn’t recognize him but, of course, he was wearing a mask like all of the other guests. His was rendered in the same silver fabric with a slim slit for his eyes. A scalloped piece of fabric fell from the bottom of the mask down to his chin so you couldn’t see anything of his face other than his dark eyes.

Once you’d regained your balance you began to stutter an apology.

“Forgive me, sir,” you stammered. “I must mind my step.”

The stranger didn’t say anything, he just continued to look you up and down, the torch light reflected in his eyes. His hair was a mess of dark curls. His stature was imposing and incredibly still. You were so shaken that you suddenly realized how you looked, your face stained with tears and eyes glassy. You felt your cheeks burn with even more embarrassment.

Just as you opened your mouth to give some explanation, a voice came from behind you.

“Djarin! There you are!” Captain Dune called out, as jovial as ever.

You did your best to wipe the tears from your cheeks while the masked man turned his attention away.

Captain Dune sauntered down the path with his wife on his elbow. He was a dark haired, stocky man who still looked quite dashing in his dress uniform. He had been a hero of the Nile and served with your father before his ship had been lost. His round face was adorned with a black mask.

“Ah! I see you’ve met the young lady I told you about,” Dune said.

Lady Georgiana’s bright eyes looked between the two of you from under her leather mask. She was a beautiful woman with dark skin and a wide smile. She had always been kind to you even after the disastrous affair with Mr. Vanth.

“My dear, allow me to introduce Mr. Djarin,” Lady Georgiana said. “He is a very good friend.”

Mr. Djarin gave a tight bow when she introduced you but barely murmured a, “How do you do?”

“What are you doing hiding out here, Djarin? The dancing is inside!” Dune teased.

Mr. Djarin gave a chuckle but he didn’t sound amused.

“Why don’t you ask this young lady for a dance? I’m sure she would lower herself to stand up with you,” the captain continued with a wink.

“I’d better not. Please, you’ll have to excuse me. I should retire,” Mr. Djarin said, his voice deep and raspy.

Your eyes fell to the ground and you swallowed hard. You hoped in the darkness of the garden, Lady Georgiana didn’t catch your upset. Clearly Captain Dune had told him everything about you. Why else would this man be so impolite?

“Oh come now. It’s early, yet,” the captain protested.

“Forgive me. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he bowed and took his leave.

“My dear,” Lady Georgiana tried, “you’ll have to forgive Mr. Djarin. He has lived alone for so long that he sometimes forgets his manners.”

You gave her a smile, clenching your jaw so that you would not cry.

“I just had a splendid idea!” Lady Georgiana exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “You should come stay with us at Nevarro Hall. We leave next week. It would be great fun. I do find that part of the country so diverting.”

“You are too kind but I couldn’t impose,” you said politely. You had a feeling this offer only came because Georgiana felt responsible for her friend’s slight.

“Nonsense! You’re quite right that is a grand idea!” the captain agreed.

It was agreed that Lady Georgiana would write to your mother to inform her of the invitation. You knew she wouldn’t disagree considering how kind the Dunes were and how generous an invitation it was. Once the matter was settled, Captain Dune insisted you return to the party and you reluctantly slunk back inside.

Julia was with a gaggle of some friends when you returned to the ballroom. There was some excitement going on between them.

“Did you see him, Lucy?” one of the girls asked.

“I was introduced,” Lucy squealed. “It is a shame he was not here earlier in the season.”

You realized they were talking about Mr. Djarin and you felt yourself frowning.

“You’re not happy with Mr. Calican?” Julia laughed. Lucy had accepted his proposal just yesterday.

“No, of course!” she scoffed.

“What was he like?” Julia asked.

“I’ve heard he has a fine estate,” Lucy said.

“Oh, he was terribly handsome,” the first girl craned her neck to try and spot Mr. Djarin.

You wanted to laugh. You had also been introduced to Mr. Djarin but there was no way of knowing how handsome he was beneath that mask. You might have even ventured to tell them that but Emma joined the group looking disgruntled.

“I have learned some most unsettling news about Mr. Djarin,” she said. “He is traveling with a child who is in his care.”

“What about that offends you so?” Julia rolled her eyes.

“That is just it, Julia. I am told that this young boy is not merely Mr. Djarin’s ward. He is, in fact, his natural child.” This last part she said in a scandalized whisper.

This raised quite a few eyebrows but you furrowed your own.

“You are told?” You responded. “By whom?”

You knew the rumors that had circulated about yourself and had grown to absolutely despise and distrust gossip.

“I have it on good authority,” Emma said, which meant that some busybody had told her.

You shook your head. You hated that you felt the need to defend Mr. Djarin after he’d been so rude to you. If he had a child out of wedlock, one that he paraded around shamelessly, then what right did he have to rebuff you? You reminded yourself that this was merely hearsay. And no one deserved to be slandered like that.

But when you saw the way the other girls eyed you, you remembered yourself. If you protested too much, it would only speak to your own reputation. So you let them prattle on and as soon as you could slip away, you did, and spent the rest of the evening counting the minutes until you could leave and fall into bed.

After such an excruciating time in town, you were happy to be going anywhere else and, selfishly, you were glad that you didn’t need to spend a long carriage ride hearing Julia go on and on about how much she would miss being in town.

Nevarro Hall was situated on a gorgeous estate in a quiet part of the countryside. Lady Georgiana had given you a well appointed room with a view of the grounds. There was a beautiful garden with a fountain in the middle and, beyond that, a manicured lawn. You could see down to the lake and, past that, the tall trees. You spent a week walking the grounds with Lady Georgiana.

You loved to draw and you could set yourself in some corner of the garden and sketch the flowers for hours on end. It was such a wonderful change from the constant noise and hustle of town– the endless parties and calls, Emma herding you around like a prized cow. When the weather was fair, Lady Georgiana would have tea set outside and she and the captain would ask for a tour through your sketchbook and kindly remark on your talents.

“Perhaps you will create a likeness of the captain, my dear,” Lady Georgiana suggested. “If he will sit still enough for you.”

The captain laughed at that remark as the valet presented him with a letter.

“Very good! It seems Djarin will be joining us tomorrow! His business in town is finished,” he said.

You tried to hide your displeasure. You had no interest in sitting through dinners and excruciating evenings with Mr. Djarin. But you had little choice in the matter. And the captain and Lady Karga had been such generous hosts, you wouldn’t insult them by cutting your visit short.

You decided that you would be as polite as necessary but keep away from him as much as possible. This was wise, you told yourself, because your reputation couldn’t suffer any more difficulties. There were plenty of people that would jump at the chance to make even a passing association with Mr. Djarin into a scandal. But, of course, there was still a part of you that smarted at the way he had dismissed you in your very first encounter. You couldn’t be prevailed upon to be pleasant to a man that was so insulting. And so you would not.

Luckily, the first two days, it was easy to avoid Mr. Djarin entirely. The captain had taken him out riding or shooting or some such activity men enjoyed and they had dined out. Lady Georgiana had become a dear companion to you but she had begun to spend far too much time hinting at how much she liked the new guest. You would merely nod and smile and let your mind wander when she started to tell you how agreeable Mr. Djarin was or how he had been such a kind friend to her father.

On the third day, you had complained of a headache so you could excuse yourself from breakfast. After you had the tea and toast that Lady Georgiana had sent up to your room, you insisted a walk would be good for you and you set out across the grounds with your sketchbook.

You decided the stables were a good place to be left alone. It wasn’t like anyone would be looking for you there and, save the horses, there was nobody there. You found a little wooden chair and sat down to draw the horses and tack.

There was a beautiful black mare with white whiskers around her snout that you were sketching when you heard a noise. It was a funny little squeal. You thought you had imagined it until you heard it again. It had come from the empty horse stall at the very end and when you set down your sketchbook to investigate, you found a little boy sitting in the hay.

“Hello,” you said to him.

He smiled up at you. He looked incredibly sweet with chubby little cheeks. His ears seemed too big for his head and his eyes, too, were big and round. He wore a little brown suit with a delicate ruffle around the neck that was now covered in mud and hay.

“What are you doing in here?” you asked him, though he seemed too small to answer.

He babbled at you and held out something in his hand.

“What’s that?”

The child leaned forward, stretching towards you, and dropped it into your hand. It was a little silver ball that jingled like it had a bell within.

“Thank you,” you chuckled.

You shook it and it made a tinkling sound. He clapped his pudgy hands together, then planted them on the ground, and carefully got to his feet. He continued to yammer on as he tottered towards you, falling on his behind once, but determined to reach you on his own.

“Grogu!” You heard a voice from the path outside that you recognized. “Grogu!”

The boy scampered out of the stable and right up to the boot of Mr. Djarin.

“Where have you been, lad? They’re turning the whole house over looking for you,” he said.

He scooped the little boy up, holding his whole body in the crook of his arm, a wide hand grasping the boy’s calf. Grogu put a dirty hand up to Mr. Djarin’s chin and he laughed softly.

Now that you had the benefit of seeing him without a mask, you realized Mr. Djarin was, indeed, quite handsome. He had full lips and a prominent nose. His skin was a shade of gold that complimented his dark eyes. His starched collar met a square jaw that was dotted with stubble. In the sunlight, you could see that his soft curls and thick sideburns were threaded with grey hairs. The smile that spread over his features was so warm, you wished you could capture it in your sketchbook.

This was the infamous child, then. You saw little resemblance between Mr. Djarin and the lad but he held him so tenderly, it made you wonder if the rumors hadn’t been true.

That’s what you were pondering when the boy turned his attention back to you, pointing with a plump little finger. Mr. Djarin’s whole body stiffened when he saw you, his eyes turning sharp.

“Good morning,” you said with a curtsy.

His jaw clenched and he nodded.

“He was playing,” you tried, tilting your head back towards the stable.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I was drawing the horses,” you explained.

His head tilted just slightly.

“Is that his name? Grogu?” You asked when Mr. Djarin failed to speak.

“Yes,” he said.

You smiled. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Grogu.”

You put out your hand and the lad wrapped his fingers around one of yours.

“Ebba!” he cried.

You laughed. When you glanced at Mr. Djarin he was looking at you with an expression you could only describe as fear. Your smile faltered.

“I take it your business was concluded. In a satisfactory manner, I hope?” you inquired politely.

His brow furrowed momentarily and he opened his mouth and then set Grogu down at his feet.

“Yes. I-” he cleared his throat. “Please, you must forgive me for my behavior at the masquerade. Lady Georgiana said that I offended you. That was not my intention.”

You felt heat in your cheeks once again, embarrassment mixed with anger. You couldn’t believe he had to be told that he had acted like an ass. “Not to worry, sir. My pride has already been damaged so thoroughly, what is but one more slight?”

The look that crossed his face was absolute horror. You would have apologized for speaking so plainly but you frankly didn’t care. What right did he have to judge you? To apologize like you were so pitiful when here he was with his love child. You knew what men like Mr. Djarin were like and you’d learned to keep a wide berth.

“I- I should tell them that I’ve found him,” Mr. Djarin said. “Good day.”

He turned to go back up the path.

“Wait!” you called.

You blushed when you realized how impolite it sounded. Mr. Djarin turned carefully but said nothing. You approached him, painfully aware of the way he stared at you. It was difficult to meet his eye. You swallowed and held out the child’s ball to him. Mr. Djarin put out his hand and you placed it in his palm. As you did, your fingertips brushed his hand and you shivered. His skin felt rough and his palm was so large compared to your own. Your breath caught and, for some reason, you wished he would close his fingers around yours. You quickly withdrew your hand.

The boy reached out for the ball with a coo.

“Much obliged,” Mr Djarin managed. He was still looking at you with intense concentration.

Your chest felt tight.

“I’ll let them know at the house,” you stuttered and after a quick curtsy you were rushing back up the path.

--- Chapter 2

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akimagies · 3 years

Text

late night phone calls: Matt Simmons

Matt Simmons x female!Reader (Rossi’s daughter)

WORD COUNT: 2,136

WARNINGS: tw: mentions of Scratch

SUMMERY: Based off of 13x01, and how I see the events of it happening between Matt Simmons, and his fiancé Y/N Rossi that night

A/N: so just a little heads up: yes, this character’s father is the david rossi AND the communications liaison for the team. no, i do not have her mother being married or even divorced to david. she (and her twin brother) are byproducts of a one night stand between their parents, and the two had shared custody of them. ((i am thinking of making this a series, so if you like this please comment or message me saying i should continue this))

Late night phone calls during the night were never the best to happen, especially because it wasn’t from either of the two people sleeping in the bed together. Y/N Rossi had recently just started her maternity leave, and the short hours of sleep had just started since there was a newborn baby in the home. It seemed like the little baby girl in the house could wake up to a pin dropping on the floor. It also didn’t help that their three-year-old son liked to wake them up early in the morning as well. So, when Matt and Y/N heard one of their phone’s ringing, the two immediately shot up from their positions on their bed, and leaned over to the nightstand to see which one of them was getting the call. When Y/N looked at her screen though, it showed nothing but some Facebook and Instagram notifications.

“Simmons here.” Was what Y/N heard from the other side of the bed. She was thankful that it wasn’t her own phone call. With the baby still trying to get a sleeping schedule, the poor woman was exhausted.

“Hey-hey! Penelope calm down, repeat what you said but slower.” Matt repeated as all he heard on the other line was just gibberish. Penelope finally calmed down on the other side of the line what was going on. Scratch was back and six team members, including his future father-in-law, signals were all offline. Matt was the one member that wasn’t on the BAU to know about all the current information on Scratch. They choose him since he would be someone that wouldn’t be with the team incase Scratch attacked, and Penelope would be able to call to help with the case and actually know what was happening. “Alright, I’ll be at the office as fast as I can.” Matt said as he swung his legs over his side of the bed and started to head for the closet to put some actual cloth on, instead of the boxers he was wearing.

With the lights and the movement that happening, Y/N sat up from the bed and looked over at her fiancé. “What’s going on? Why are you getting dressed?” She asked as she sat up in bed, turning her lamp on as she looked over at Matt getting dressed.

“Garcia called me; she needs me to come in to help her.” Matt told her as he looked over at her as he threw one of his shirts on before grabbing a button up to put on over the shirt.

“Well, I guess that means I should get up and start getting dressed too. Pen’s probably going to be ringing me soon. I could call my mom up and just drop off Alexander and Lacie with her.” She said rubbing her eyes as she slowly started to sit up, but Matt hurried over to her and pushed her shoulder’s back down towards the bed.

“Nope, Penelope strictly said that you were not to be called onto the case Y/N. You just had a baby. You need some sleep, and since the IRT disbanded, I’ve been dying for a case.” Matt said as he leaned down to place a kiss on top of her forehead. “I will be back as soon as I can, alright?”

“Alright.” Y/N said smiling as she looked up at Matt and smiled up at him. “I love you, and be careful, please.” She said as she squeezed his hand tightly.

“I always am, aren’t I?” he asked her smiling before placing a quick kiss onto her lips before he walked out of the bedroom door and hurried down the steps, knowing that the team really need his help. He was glad that he didn’t tell Y/N, knowing if he did, it would have worried her even more then she was already.

☾ . ° . ⋆⠀┊---------------------------------------------------------------┊ ⋆⠀. ° . ☾

It didn’t take long for Y/N to fall back asleep, except this time, it was her phone that woke her up. “Hello?” She asked as she answered the phone.

“Is this Miss Rossi?” the female voice on the other side of the line asked.

“Yes, this is she, can I ask who this is?” Y/N asked a she soon stood up from the bed and started to walk over to the closet.

“This is Nurse Hugh’s over at D.C General Hospital. Your father, David Rossi, was brought in tonight with the rest of his team. Since you are his emergency contact, we decided to notify you. He is though refusing medical treatment for right now, so we would really appreciate it if you could come down at this hour and speak some sense into him.” The nurse asked her over the phone.

Of-course her father was refusing treatment, it didn’t shock her at all. “Yes, I will be down as soon as I can.” She said to the woman over the phone, before hanging up and hurrying to throw on some cloths that looked appropriate, all before hurrying and throwing a diaper bag together for little Lacie, and pack some snacks and things to entertain Alexander. She knew that she would have to bring her son and the little baby with her now, to try and convince her father to actually get medical treatment.

☾ . ° . ⋆⠀┊---------------------------------------------------------------┊ ⋆⠀. ° . ☾

It only took a short time to drive to the hospital, and soon enough, she was walking in with Alexander holding her right hand and walking, while she had Lacie in her stroller. “What the hell are you doing here? Your supposed to be on maternity leave, not working a case?” Luke asked once he saw the woman walking in with her baby to the hospital where all the team members. He soon grabbed the stroller out of her hands and started to walk with her while pushing the stroller.

“I’m not coming to work the case Luke, I’m my dad’s emergency contact. So, they called me to say he was denying medical treatment.” She said before following Luke to the room where her father was staying in. Once inside, she saw her father laying on the hospital bed, with a bandage taped around the hair line on his forehead. “Now, why the hell are you denying medical treatment?” Y/N asked her father as she watched Luke place the baby stroller off to the side for her.

“I said, I would accept medical treatment once Luke and Spence went to my office and opened my desk to grab those Cubs season tickets that I’ve been promising him.” Rossi said, giving his daughter a pointed look, as to stay just go with it.

“Alright, well can you two head off then? I would really appreciate it if my father was actually checked out by the doctors.” She told the two men standing in front of her before watching them walk out of the room.

“Grandpa, up.” Alexander said as he put up his arms while standing on the side of his bed. The two were very close, maybe it was the fact that her father insisted on Sunday dinners with the family now.

Y/N walked over to the side of the bed and put her hands under Alexander’s arms and picked him up to sit on the edge of the bed, as she pushed some of the strands of hair out of his face. “You didn’t call your brother or mother about this all did you?” Rossi asked his daughter, hoping that she wouldn’t have called either.

“Mom, no. She would have been glad that you were in here and said you deserved it. It may have been decades since everything, but mom keeps grudges. Nicholas on the other hand I did call.?” She said as she soon saw her father about to start lecturing her on calling her twin brother this late at night. “I called him just to let him know what’s going on, besides he’s not even asleep yet. He’s off in California working on a case.” She told her father. It wasn’t a surprise that THE David Rossi, who started the BAU, would have twins that would both be working as Special Agents. While Y/N now worked for the BAU with her father, she at first worked before with the IRT, where she met her fiancé. While, her twin brother Nicholas worked for NCIS.

“Well, I’m glad. I only one worry child for tonight.” Rossi told his daughter smiling. Soon enough, the doctors were allowed to come in and check Rossi for the injuries he might have sustained in the car accident.

☾ . ° . ⋆⠀┊---------------------------------------------------------------┊ ⋆⠀. ° . ☾

It only took a few hours, but the team had been able to catch Scratch before he could do any more harm to anyone. It might have been wrong to say, but Matt felt amazing right now. He had been missing the thrill of being out there in the field, working on taking down an unsub. Yet, all he wanted to do now after taking down Scratch, was take his family home. Which is why he was standing in the open door, looking into Rossi’s hospital room to see Y/N and Alexander both curled up on the tiny couch with one another, while Lacie was asleep in her stroller. “I told her that she needed her rest.” Matt said sighing as he walked into the room.

“And you really thought she would listen? I raised her; I know she has selective hearing.” Rossi told Matt smiling as he chuckled shaking his head. “Take them home, you all need your rest. Their keeping me over night just to make sure nothing is wrong with me. Then you all can come be my ride home since my car isn’t here.” Rossi told Matt smiling.

“I’ll just leave Y/N’s keys here for you, then you can just drive home and we’ll all come over later in the day for dinner.” Matt said smiling before walking over to where Y/N was sleeping, and shaking her shoulder gently. “Hey, time to go home and get some sleep there.” Matt spoke quietly, trying not to wake up Alex in her arms.

Y/N nodded her head before sitting up from the bed slowly before getting up and passing over slowly before looking over at her father. “Are you sure you are okay for us to leave you for the night?” She asked her father as she soon started to wheel Lacie around the room.

“Yes, I am perfectly fine. You two get some sleep, and make sure my grandchildren are up and ready to eat some of grandpa Rossi’s food tomorrow.” Rossi told his daughter smiling.

“Well Alexander is the only one that can eat your food, as for Lacie, I can’t promise she’s going to be up. She likes to take multiple naps throughout the day.” Y/N said smiling as she walked over to her dad and kiss his forehead. “Love ya dad.” She said smiling.

“Love you too sunshine.” Rossi said smiling as he watched the couple soon walk out of the room.

“Alright, let’s go home and get these kids to bed.” Matt said smiling as the two of them soon walked out to his black SUV that was parked near the front of the hospital.

☾ . ° . ⋆⠀┊---------------------------------------------------------------┊ ⋆⠀. ° . ☾

It seemed as if sleep was just not for the two parents tonight once they got back home. Alex had woken up right when the car stopped, so Matt had gone to go read the young boy a book. While that was happening, Lacie had decided to wake up as well, though she was waking up because she was hungry. So, Y/N had heated up a bottle for the little girl. By the time that the two children had back fallen asleep, it was near 3 in the morning.

The two parents soon laid back down in their bed after the event full night. Y/N placed her head on Matt’s chest and soon asked, “We can do this right?”

“Do what?”

“Be two working FBI agents, while also being parents of two kids?”

“Of-course we can.”

“A-are you sure?”

Matt soon moved up a little to look down at her. “Of-course we can, we are two badass parents that can handle everything that’s thrown at us.” He told her smiling.

Y/N soon let out a yawn. “Your right we are two badass parents.” She said smiling

“And now these two badass parents need their sleep.”

“Oh, you are correct about that. I love you.” She said as she let her eyes flutter shut.

“I love you too.” Matt whispered to her before pressing a kiss into her hair, and letting his eyes shut as well.

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dreamescapeswriting · 3 years

Text

The Nanny ~ JJK [Request]

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

GENRE: Angst, established relationship, slice of life, married life, family au

PAIRING: Jungkook x fem reader

Hiring a nanny was supposed to be beneficial to both you and Jungkook, you were heavily pregnant with your third child so having a nanny seemed like a good option but looking back on it now it didn't seem like it to you. Irene was lovely at first but the longer she worked for you and Jungkook the more you began to grow insecure about her. It wasn't like she wasn't good at her job she was fantastic, the best nanny someone could ever wish for but she was this 5''5 perfectly toned woman with jet black hair. Breathtakingly beautiful and young, everything that you weren't anymore.

The 24-year-old had moved into the house that you and Jungkook owned so that she could help look after the kids while Jungkook was at the studios throughout the day. Her job was basically to become like an older sister to your daughter and son, helping you around the house with things that you weren't able to do. 7-months pregnant meant you couldn't do as much as you used to with the kids and she would help to step in whenever things needed doing. Another thing that being heavily pregnant do was making you feel as though you weren't good enough for Jungkook. Whenever he would try to be affectionate with you, you would blow off his advances and ignore them. It wasn't because you weren't interested because of course, you were, he'd been your husband for twenty years. You were hopelessly in love with him and always would be but it was because you didn't feel good enough. The hormones were always playing on your emotions making you feel worse than you needed to. Making you overthink every small little detail going on around you.

"Mrs Jeon?" You turned around from reading to your youngest daughter to see the nanny getting ready to leave for the night.

"Yes, Irene?" As you looked at her you took in her appearance and your mouth could have dropped open. She looked insanely beautiful, more so than usual. Her long hair was curled perfectly and she was standing there in one of the tightest black dresses you'd ever seen. Irene smiled softly at you as she looked at your daughter who was almost asleep in your arms,

"I was just coming to tell you I'll be at my boyfriend's this weekend if you or Mr Jeon need me you have my number." Her boyfriend, you'd met him a couple of times and neither you nor Jungkook approved of her taste in men but it wasn't your place to say something to her since she wasn't your daughter. It wasn't as though he was a bad guy it was just a bit of a jerk, never picked her up or dropped her off in her car and would make her pay for 99% of their dates despite him earning more than she did.

"That's fine, I think we should be okay. Jungkook has the weekend off," You whispered as you daughter crawled into her bed to fall asleep, both you and Irene stepped out of the room and began heading down the stairs. She walked down the staircase first being careful not to fall or make too much noise since your son was already asleep in his bed.

"Are you going to dinner tonight?" You asked as you watched her putting on some high heeled shoes, Jungkook walked over to you when he heard your voice and smiled wrapping his arms around your waist to greet you.

"You look lovely tonight, date night?" Shivers ran through your body as he complimented her, your brain instantly reminding you of how many times he used to compliment you and that he no longer did it.

"Yes! I'm meeting San at the restaurant." She announced happily as she picked up a bag ready to get into the cab that was outside waiting for her but Jungkook stepped in.

"You're catching a cab?" Jungkook unwrapped his arms from around you and began shaking his head at her.

"Yeah. It's no big-" As she was about to tell him it was no big deal he interrupted her, insisting he would take her.

"I'll take you. Y/n go get in a bath while I take Irene to her date. You're not catching a cab this late at night," Without giving you a chance to tell him to stay here Irene and Jungkook were out of the door leaving you behind as you stared at the front door.

"Sure. Take her." You mumbled as you kicked the floor, turning around to make your way to the bathroom to have a relaxing bath.

"Did she get to the restaurant alright?" You asked as Jungkook came into the bathroom and started rubbing your shoulders. He'd been gone for almost an hour so you assumed the restaurant was far away. Jungkook rubbed circles into your skin as he kissed the top of your head,

"She got stood up, she's in her room crying. San broke up with her in the car over text," He sighed as he continued to massage your shoulders but you just shrugged his touch away from you. The thought of them being out of the house alone together for the last hour was starting to seem unsettling to you. She was in such a nice dress and she was stunning, you wouldn't blame Jungkook if he'd thought about her before.

"Turn around while I get out?" Jungkook sighed at you as he looked into your eyes, trying to convince you that you didn't have to hide your body from him.

"I've seen you naked before Y/n-" He tried to speak to you but you shook your head,

"That was before I carried three children, covered in stretch marks and my boobs started to sag." You cut him off harshly and he shook his head at you turning away as he mumbled something under his breath that you couldn't hear.

"Not all of us can be twenty-something and be stick thin Jungkook! I'm sorry I don't flaunt my body for you to see anymore!" You yelled a little too loudly as you wrapped the dressing gown around your body but Jungkook turned to look at you ready to ask what everything was about when he caught on.

"Irene isn't flaunting her body for me to see," He told you as he looked at you shaking his head at the thought of himself even looking at Irene as anything more than a daughter in his eyes.

"Well she's not walking around the house on the weekends in nothing but a shirt and booty shorts for me is she?" As soon as you snapped at him he knew what was going on in your head but you just pulled yourself away from him and headed to the main bedroom.

The next morning Jungkook was sitting in the kitchen with a large mug of coffee, he'd spent the night on the sofa wanting to give you space to think over what you had said.

"I'm sorry." You mumbled as you walked into the kitchen to kiss his cheeks, you'd spent most of the night thinking about how long you and Jungkook had been together. The amount you'd been through when he was younger, he would never leave you just because you were pregnant and weren't as active together as you used to be.

"I promise there's nothing going on between us, she's like a daughter to me...I'm going to shower." He whispered as he kissed you lovingly on the lips, you smiled as you felt the same sparks you had over the years.

"I'll shower, change and we can take the kids to the park. Sound good?" You hummed in response to him and he wandered off towards the bathroom. Irene coming into the kitchen not long after him in nothing but a hoodie and some shorts.

"I'm sorry about San," You told her as you began to pour her some coffee and yourself some tea, trying to play nice with her as you thought back on what Jungkook said. Nothing more than a daughter to him.

"It's no big deal. Plenty of fish in the sea," She smiled at you looking around the kitchen,

"Where's Mr Jeon?" She questioned as she put her hair up into a bun, showing off her neck to you as you watched her. Along her pale skin was several deep purple marks up and down it.

"H-He went for a shower, did you end up going out last night?" You stared down into the mug trying not to let your mind go where it was going but it was too late. Irene smirked as she looked at you,

"No." She took the mug from your hands before turning to leave the room. Those marks weren't on her neck the night before she left so there was only one way she would have gotten them.

"Babe?" Jungkook asked as he walked into the kitchen to look for his phone, as soon as you heard his voice you dropped the mug onto the floor letting it shatter into pieces and splash the scolding liquid up your skin.

"Mrs Jeon?!" Irene's voice ran through your body like nails on a chalkboard as you looked at her in the doorway and then to Jungkook who was standing in front of you in nothing but a towel with a concerned look splashed across his face.

"I see her as a daughter?!" You asked as the pregnancy hormones took over your brain, pointing over at Irene who's neck was still on full display for everyone to see if they wanted to.

"What are you talking about-" Jungkook stopped himself when he turned to see the marks on her neck, his eyes widening as Irene sent him a playful smirk.

"Baby. No. I would never do anything like that to you," He reassured you as he stepped closer to you but you stepped back away from him yelling at him not to touch you.

"I-I get it! I get it! I mean I'm pregnant, why wouldn't you want to go off and be with someone like her," You mumbled as you watched Irene wander into the room, attempting to clean up everything that was on the floor but Jungkook snapped at her to get out of the room and leave you alone.

"But you could get her," She whined out, placing her hands onto Jungkook's chest as he stared at her,

"Don't act like something is going on in front of my wife, there is absolutely nothing going on and there never will be." He moved away from her touch and she glared at him,

"I'm so much better though, you could have me...You won't need someone who's pregnant, she hasn't let you touch her in months. I know that for a fact." Tears began to roll down your face at the thought of her knowing every detail about what was going on between you and Jungkook. The truth was before you began to grow jealous of her you'd confided in her about your insecurities towards Jungkook. How you hadn't slept with him or even let him hold you since getting pregnant with your third child, you thought you could trust her.

"So what? I love her! I would never throw away a twenty-year relationship with her because she won't let me touch her." He snapped once again and you watched him as he handed Irene a wet cloth,

"Rub that shit off your neck. You're fired." The colour drained from Irene's face as she stared at Jungkook and then to the cloth in his hands.

"You can't fire me-"

"I can, I did and you signed an NDL so you can't talk to the press about anything you heard in this house without being sued. Wipe it off your neck, pack and leave." You stared at Jungkook as he looked over at you, Irene rubbing her neck to remove the purple stains throwing the cloth into the sink as she stormed off.

As soon as Irene was out of the house Jungkook locked the doors and turned to look at you,

"I would never do anything like that to you Y/n, ever...I'm sorry I didn't see what she was doing until now." You shook your head at him as he brought you into a tight embrace,

"I'm sorry I assumed something was happening," You laughed weakly as you kissed his chest,

"I love you," He kissed the top of your head

"Yeah mum we love you," You turned behind him to see your daughter holding onto your son's hand as she helped him down the staircase.

"I love you guys too, shall we all go to the park?" You asked as you watched their faces light up at the mention of going to the park together.

"Go and change, I'll get dressed and we can go have a picnic." You told them as they both began to climb back up the staircase towards their bedrooms,

"I'll go and help," Jungkook whispered as he kissed your lips lovingly, heading up the stairs after the kids.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @kneel-begyourpardon @rjsmochii @bisexualmess007 @innersooya @sw33tnight @sweeneyblue1 @jin-from-the-block

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danniburgh · 3 years

Text

Formalities and Introductions (a RushBit one shot)

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: It's mother's day and you get to meet Javier's mom.

Word count: +2k

Chapter warnings: mentions of death and dead people and nostalgia.

A/N: This is canon RushBit after the main story, it will make sense once we throw ourselves into it. I just wanted to commemorate Mother's Day with this.

ao3 // fic index // Masterlist

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓 let me know if you wanna be tagged

May 9th, 1996.

You turned on the driveway and pulled over; when you turned off the car and grabbed your bag from the co-pilot’s seat, you felt your smile creep up on your face again and you tried to hide it, unsuccessfully.

You got out of the car and immediately the big black ball of hair that was Pepe ran out of Chucho’s house and you crouched to greet the old pup.

“Hi, good boy,” you cooed to him as his large tail formed whiplashes around the space “where are our men?” you asked him, standing up. The dog huffed and turned around to walk back to Chucho’s house.

You followed him and walked in. The first thing that welcomed you was the stern voices of two men arguing in spanish. You walked behind Pepe into the kitchen and crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the arch frame of the entrance, neither of them seemed to notice you.

“No, viejo terco, no,” (stubborn old man) Javier chastised from the chair he was sitting on, his back to you, as Chucho chopped something on the counter, his back to Javier.

“Is that the way to talk to your dad?” you asked out loud, Javier seemed to wince and turned around to see you.

“It’s my dad,” he replied, Chucho chuckled, turning around to wink at you and to clean his hands with the kitchen towel hanging on his shoulder “I talk to him how I want to.”

“No, you don’t, shut up.” you teased, Javier smirked and took the can of beer that was resting on the table in front of him and took a gulp. Chucho sat next to him as you left your bag on the opposite chair.

“How’d it go?” Javier asked, watching you walk to the fridge and take out the water jug and make your quick way to the dish rack for a glass.

“I hate the DMV,” you mumbled, pouring the water on the glass and placing it in front of Javier, along with a kiss on his temple, “I got yelled by a lady trying to cut in line,” you chuckled and Chucho followed, you left the jug on the table and took the beer can from Javier’s hand, “but I got it.”

“Hey that’s mine,” Javier frowned as you walked to the sink and left the can there, “show it to me.”

“Was, drink your water,” you said, Chucho chuckled again and shook his head when Javier let out a huff, he knew better than to say something at that point, he knew how much you cared about Javier, “I even got surprised, I don’t look half bad in the photo.” you raised your eyebrows as you walked to the chair, took your bag and rummaged around it, finding the small plastic rectangle and handing it to Javier when you sat down.

“Half bad? you look gorgeous.” Javier mumbled, Chucho leaned to the side and Javier handed it to him.

“You do, Florecita.” Chucho said, smiling at you.

“Well thank you,” you smiled back at him, “with that driver’s license I’m officially a citizen of Texas.” you rolled your eyes and Javier frowned in feigned hurt.

“What’s wrong with Texas?” he said as you took the license from Chucho’s hand.

“I’m not saying there’s something wrong with it.” you shrugged, taking the water glass you had put in front of him and taking a sip of the cold water.

“You’re suggesting it.” he narrowed his eyes with that shit-eating grin of his.

“I’m not! what do you care? you hate Texas.” you rolled your eyes again and Javier faked a gasp.

“I don’t hate it, I’m just not fond of it.” he let out, taking out a laugh out of you. Chucho muttered something along the lines of chamacos locos (crazy kids) and stood up to resume his chopping.

“And yet you’re making me live here,” you chuckled out and Javier just shrugged, “what are you cooking, suegro?” you asked, and Javier took the glass from your hand to drink out of it.

“Meatloaf,” Chucho replied “Javi, remember to pick up the flowers in the morning.” he said without turning.

“Yeah.”

“What flowers?” you asked Javier.

“Tomorrow’s mother’s day.” he let out, moving on the chair to face you better.

“I thought it was this sunday,” you narrowed your eyes until your brain remembered that the holiday was celebrated on the tenth in México, “oh shit.”

“Oh shit indeed,” Javier teased, knowing you just had to remember it, his hand snaked on the table to take yours “we’re gonna go see mom,” he muttered “wanna come?”

Javier felt a bit nervous asking you that; to go with him and his dad to the cemetery and look at a tombstone he hadn’t seen for a long time.

He didn’t talk about his mom often, because it all reminded him of the last time he saw her and the image of his smiling mother tortured him more than do him any good; he spent a long time of his adult years wondering if the choices he was making would disappoint the woman that had birthed him and wrapped him in so much love since the first minute he was on earth; he spent most of his life thinking what would his mother say if she found out what he was doing or why. And he still needed to work on restoring the memory of his mother in his mind, because she would smack him on the nape if she knew he avoided talking about her at all.

He saw your eyes, wrapped in that warm kindness that had settled in them since you had moved in with him and decided to stay by his side; he knew you wouldn’t say no, but he still had to ask.

“Sure, you don’t have to ask me.” you said, Javier nodded and gave you a tight lip smile and turned to his dad.

“You need help, pop?”

“No.”

Javier padded inside the room when you got out of the ensuite, towel drying your hair, he walked around the bed, sat on the edge of the edge of his side, his back to you, and picked up the book you two were reading before falling asleep.

“You ok?” you asked him, he hummed in affirmation while looking around the nightstand, “you sure?” you asked him again, he turned his face to look at you and saw you with your eyes narrowed as you threw the towel in the hamper.

“I’m fine.” he said, following you as you walked to the dresser and picked up his glasses, you shook your head slowly and sat next to him, handing the glasses to him.

“Liar, liar.”

He scoffed when you stood up and walked around to your side; he stood up as well, and you began that half put together routine you had before bed; pulling down the covers, throwing some pillows on the bed’s end bench and climbing on the bed to snuggle together right in the middle of the mattress.

“Do I have to ask you again?” you muttered, resting your head on his shoulder as he picked up the book. He sighed and shuffled to face you.

“I haven’t been to her grave since I left.” he mumbled.

“I don’t think she judges you for it.” you let out, he chuckled humorlessly.

“You didn’t know her,” he said, “she does.”

“I don’t know her because you won’t talk to me about her,” you whispered and Javier sighed again, you turned your head to face him, he was already looking at you. “I understand it’s hard, but I’d like to know about her.”

Javier looked at you without saying a thing for a few seconds. His hand reached to your cheek and he nodded a few times.

“Ask away.” he whispered, you gave him a smile that he could only classify as the smile of a curious child and it made his chest turn around with love.

May 10th, 1996.

The bouquet was heavy, but you insisted on carrying it yourself, the smell of the pink carnations invaded your nostrils as Javier’s hand gripped yours in that entangled mess that was your fingers when you held hands.

“Por acá.” Chucho said, he was guiding you both through the narrow dirt paths of the Laredo’s Cemetery, Javier was helping you not step on any graves out of respect, he had said.

“I’m nervous,” you mumbled, Javier snorted “I’m about to meet your mom, I’m nervous.”

Javier let out a nostalgic chuckle.

“You met her last night.” he reminded, you smiled, remembering him abandoning the book when you started asking what you wanted to know about his mom; where was she born, when, where she grew up, how did she like to be called, her favorite kind of music, how she used to call him when he was a kid; all the things you didn’t know.

The ones you did, Javier was not the one to tell them to you, it was Chucho; your non-father in law loved when you were in a curious mood because you nagged him until you got responses, and from him you had learned her name, how did they meet, when they got married and how did she die.

But you were eager to learn Javier’s perspective about his mom, because Chucho spoke about her with all the love and devotion of a husband, a man that knew her soul and her body; but Javier knew her kindness and her protective side.

And you loved every bit of her he handed you, it made her more real and it was as if you knew her too. Or at least part of her.

“So carnations were her favorites?” you asked him in a low voice, Chucho turning right on another path.

“Yeah, those and jacarandas,” he replied with a smile, you turned to see him and smiled at him “but those don’t grow here.”

“Isn’t Guadalajara filled with those trees?” you asked, almost in a rethory, remembering the brief time you spent in that city and seeing the streets filled with purple little flowers, Javier nodded.

“I saw some of those in Colombia too, most of them in Medellín,” he mumbled, gripping your hand tighter absentmindedly, it was still hard for both of you to talk about Colombia, but it was harder for him “reminded me of her.”

Chucho stopped in front of a white tombstone, on each side there were two stone vases with some half-dead flowers on them and he took his hat off, you looked at Javier and he breathed in heavily, you handed him the bouquet and he gave you half a smile.

“Hola, mi amor.” Chucho let out, “happy mother’s day” his usual stern tone faded and you felt a tight knot in the middle of your chest and bit your lip.

“Here, pop,” Javier undid the bouquet and gave him half the carnations, “hola, mami,” he whispered to it and you just saw them moving silently around the grave, you stood there, in front of the gravestone.

Margarita García de Peña. Beloved wife and mother. 1926 - 1967

The two men in front of you took out the dead flowers and put the carnations in the vases, Chucho stood there, a hand on the cold stone and started whispering to it.

Javier walked to you and you opened your arm for him to settle around.

“She was so young.” you said, he nodded.

“She had me young.” he mumbled, you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Gracias.” you whispered. He looked at you with half a frown and saw you looking at the grave.

Javier huffed and shook his head with a soft smile adorning his face; he tugged you to him and wrapped you inside his arms, you put your arms around his waist and Javier kissed your temple.

“She would’ve loved you.” he murmured on your skin.

“She loved you.” you said, making him hug you tighter.

Javi's babies: @pulplorrd

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dwellordream · 3 years

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“...If any precedent might have preoccupied Livia, especially in her early career, when she was attempting to mould an image fitting for the times, it would have been a negative one, provided by the most notorious woman of the late republic and, most important, a woman who clashed headlong with Octavian in the sensitive early stages of his career. Fulvia was the wife of Mark Antony, and his devoted supporter, no less loyal than Livia in support of her husband, although their styles were dramatically different.

Fulvia’s struggle on behalf of Antony, Octavian’s archenemy, has secured her an unenviable place in history as a power-crazed termagant. While her husband was occupied in the East in 41, Fulvia made an appearance, along with Antony’s children, before his old soldiers in Italy, urging them to remain true to their commander. When Antony’s brother Lucius gathered his troops at Praeneste to launch an attack on Rome, Fulvia joined him there, and the legend became firmly established that she put on a sword, issued the watchword, gave a rousing speech to the soldiers, and held councils of war with senators and knights. This was the ultimate sin in a woman, interfering in the loyalty of the troops.

In the end Octavian prevailed and forced the surrender of Lucius and his armies at Perusia. The fall of the city led to a massive exodus of political refugees. Among them were two women, Livia and Fulvia. Livia joined her husband, Tiberius Claudius Nero, who escaped first to Praeneste and then to Naples. Fulvia fled with her children to join Antony and his mother in Athens. Like Octavia later, she found that her dedicated service was not enough to earn her husband’s gratitude. In fact, Antony blamed her for the setbacks in Italy.

A broken woman, she fell ill at Sicyon on the Gulf of Corinth, where she died in mid-40 bc. Antony in the meantime had left Italy without even troubling himself to visit her sickbed. Fulvia’s story contains many of the ingredients familiar in the profiles of ambitious women: avarice, cruelty, promiscuity, suborning of troops, and the ultimate ingratitude of the men for whom they made such sacrifices. She was at Perusia at the same time as Livia, and as wives of two of the triumvirs, they would almost certainly have met. In any case, Fulvia was at the height of her activities in the years immediately preceding Livia’s first meeting with Octavian, and at the very least would have been known to her by reputation. Livia would have seen in Fulvia an object lesson for what was to be avoided at all costs by any woman who hoped to survive and prosper amidst the complex machinations of Roman political life.

In one respect Livia’s career did resemble Fulvia’s, in that it was shaped essentially by the needs of her husband, to fill a role that in a sense he created for her. To understand that role in Livia’s case, we need to understand one very powerful principle that motivated Augustus throughout his career. The importance that he placed in the calling that he inherited in 44 bc cannot be overstressed. The notion that he and the house he created were destined by fate to carry out Rome’s foreordained mission lay at the heart of his principate. Strictly speaking, the expression domus Augusta (house of Augustus) cannot be attested before Augustus’ death and the accession of Tiberius, but there can be little doubt that the concept of his domus occupying a special and indeed unique place within the state evolves much earlier.

Suetonius speaks of Augustus’ consciousness of the domus suae maiestas (the dignity of his house) in a context that suggests a fairly early stage of his reign, and Macrobius relates the anecdote of his claiming to have had two troublesome daughters, Julia and Rome. When Augustus received the title of Pater Patriae in 2 bc, Valerius Messala spoke on behalf of the Senate, declaring the hope that the occasion would bring good fortune and favour on ‘‘you and your house, Augustus Caesar’’ (quod bonum, inquit, faustum sit tibi domuique tuae, Caesar Auguste).

The special place in the Augustan scheme enjoyed by the male members of this domus placed them in extremely sensitive positions. The position of the women in his house was even more challenging. In fashioning the image of the domus Augusta, the first princeps was anxious to project an image of modesty and simplicity, to stress that in spite of his extraordinary constitutional position, he and his family lived as ordinary Romans. Accordingly, his demeanour was deliberately self-effacing.

His dinner parties were hospitable but not lavish. The private quarters of his home, though not as modest as he liked to pretend, were provided with very simple furniture. His couches and tables were still on public display in the time of Suetonius, who commented that they were not fine enough even for an ordinary Roman, let alone an emperor. Augustus wore simple clothes in the home, which were supposedly made by Livia or other women of his household. He slept on a simply furnished bed. His own plain and unaffected lifestyle determined also how the imperial women should behave.

His views on this subject were deeply conservative. He felt that it was the duty of the husband to ensure that his wife always conducted herself appropriately. He ended the custom of men and women sitting together at the games, requiring females (with the exception of the Vestals) to view from the upper seats only. His legates were expected to visit their wives only during the winter season. In his own domestic circle he insisted that the women should exhibit a traditional domesticity.

He had been devoted to his mother and his sister, Octavia, and when they died he allowed them special honours. But at least in the case of Octavia, he kept the honours limited and even blocked some of the distinctions voted her by the Senate. Nor did he limit himself to matters of ‘‘lifestyle.’’ He forbade the women of his family from saying anything that could not be said openly and recorded in the daybook of the imperial household. In the eyes of the world, Livia succeeded in carrying out her role of model wife to perfection. To some degree she owed her success to circumstances. It is instructive to compare her situation with that of other women of the imperial house.

Julia (born 39 bc) summed up her own attitude perfectly when taken to task for her extravagant behaviour and told to conform more closely to Augustus’ simple tastes. She responded that he could forget that he was Augustus, but she could not forget that she was Augustus’ daughter. Julia’s daughter, the elder Agrippina (born 19 bc?), like her mother before her, saw for herself a key element in her grandfather’s dynastic scheme. She was married to the popular Germanicus and had no doubt that in the fullness of time she would provide a princeps of Augustan blood.

Not surprisingly, she became convinced that she had a fundamental role to play in Rome’s future, and she bitterly resented Tiberius’ elevation. Her daughter Agrippina the Younger (born ad 15?) was, as a child, indoctrinated by her mother to see herself as the destined transmitter of Augustus’ blood, and her whole adult life was devoted to fulfilling her mother’s frustrated mission. From birth these women would have known of no life other than one of dynastic entitlement. By contrast, Livia’s background, although far from humble, was not exceptional for a woman of her class, and she did not enter her novel situation with inherited baggage.

As a Claudian she may no doubt have been brought up to display a certain hauteur, but she would not have anticipated a special role in the state. As a member of a distinguished republican family, she would have hoped at most for a ‘‘good’’ marriage to a man who could aspire to property and prestige, perhaps at best able to exercise a marginal influence on events through a husband in a high but temporary magistracy. Powerful women who served their apprenticeships during the republic reached their eminence by their own inclinations, energies, and ambitions, not because they felt they had fallen heir to it.

However lofty Livia’s station after 27 bc, her earlier life would have enabled her to maintain a proper perspective. She did not find herself in the position of an imperial wife who through her marriage finds herself overnight catapulted into an ambience of power and privilege. Whatever ambitions she may have entertained in her first husband, she was sadly disappointed. When she married for the second time, Octavian, for all his prominence, did not then occupy the undisputed place at the centre of the Roman world that was to come to him later. Livia thus had a decade or so of married life before she found herself married to a princeps, in a process that offered time for her to become acclimatised and to establish a style and timing appropriate to her situation.

It must have helped that in their personal relations she and her husband seem to have been a devoted couple, whose marriage remained firm for more than half a century. For all his general cynicism, Suetonius concedes that after Augustus married Livia, he loved and esteemed her unice et perservanter (right to the end, with no rival). In his correspondence Augustus addressed his wife affectionately as mea Livia.

The one shadow on their happiness would have been that they had no children together. Livia did conceive, but the baby was stillborn. Augustus knew that he could produce children, as did she, and Pliny cites them as an example of a couple who are sterile together but had children from other unions. By the normal standards obtaining in Rome at the time they would have divorced—such a procedure would have involved no disgrace—and it is a testimony to the depth of their feelings that they stayed together. In a sense, then, Livia was lucky.

That said, she did suffer one disadvantage, in that when the principate was established, she found herself, as did all Romans, in an unparalleled situation, with no precedent to guide her. She was the first ‘‘first lady’’—she had to establish the model to emulate, and later imperial wives would to no small degree be judged implicitly by comparison to her. Her success in masking her keen political instincts and subordinating them to an image of self-restraint and discretion was to a considerable degree her own achievement.

In a famous passage of Suetonius, we are told that Caligula’s favourite expression for his great-grandmother was Ulixes stolatus (Ulysses in a stola). The allusion appears in a section that supposedly illustrates Caligula’s disdain for his relatives. But his allusion to Livia is surely a witty and ironical expression of admiration. Ulysses is a familiar Homeric hero, who in the Iliad and Odyssey displays the usual heroic qualities of nerve and courage, but is above all polymetis: clever, crafty, ingenious, a man who will often sort his way through a crisis not by the usual heroic bravado but by outsmarting his opponents, whether the one-eyed giant Polyphemus, or the enchantress Circe, or the suitors for Penelope.

Caligula implied that Livia had the clever, subtle kind of mind that one associates with Greeks rather than Romans, who were inclined to take a head-on approach to problems. But at the same time she manifested a particularly Roman quality. Rolfe, in the Loeb translation of Suetonius’ Life of Caligula, rendered the phrase as ‘‘Ulysses in petticoats’’ to suggest a female version of the Homeric character. But this is to rob Caligula’s sobriquet of much of its force.

The stola was essentially the female equivalent of the toga worn by Roman men. A long woollen sleeveless dress, of heavy fabric, it was normally worn over a tunic. In shape it could be likened to a modern slip, but of much heavier material, so that it could hang in deep folds. The mark of matronae married to Roman citizens, the stola is used by Cicero as a metaphor for a stable and respectable marriage. Along with the woollen bands that the matron wore in her hair to protect her from impurity, it was considered the insigne pudoris (the sign of purity) by Ovid, something, as he puts it, alien to the world of the philandering lover.

Another contemporary of Livia’s, Valerius Maximus, notes that if a matrona was called into court, her accuser could not physically touch her, in order that the stola might remain inviolata manus alienae tactu (unviolated by the touch of another’s hand). Bartman may be right in suggesting that the existence of statues of Livia in a stola would have given Caligula’s quip a special resonance, but that alone would not have inspired his bon mot. To Caligula’s eyes, Livia was possessed of a sharp and clever mind.

But she did not allow this quality to obtrude because she recognised that many Romans would not find it appealing; she cloaked it with all the sober dignity and propriety, the gravitas, that the Romans admired in themselves and saw represented in the stola. Livia’s greatest skill perhaps lay in the recognition that the women of the imperial household were called to walk a fine line. She and other imperial women found themselves in a paradoxical position in that they were required to set an example of the traditional domestic woman yet were obliged by circumstances to play a public role outside the home—a reflection of the process by which the domestic and public domains of the domus Augusta were blurred.

Thus she was expected to display the grand dignity expected of a person very much in the public eye, combined with the old-fashioned modesty of a woman whose interests were confined to the domus. Paradoxically, she had less freedom of action than other upper-class women who had involved themselves in public life in support of their family and protégés. As wife of the princeps, Livia recognised that to enlist the support of her husband was in a sense to enlist the support of the state.

That she managed to gain a reputation as a generous patron and protector and, at the same time, a woman who kept within her proper bounds, is testimony to her keen sensitivity. In many ways she succeeds in moving silently though Rome’s history, and this is what she intended. Her general conduct gave reassurance to those who were distressed by the changing relationships that women like Fulvia had symbolised in the late republic. It is striking that court poets, who reflected the broad wishes of their patron, avoid reference to her. She is mentioned by the poet Horace, but only once, and even there she is not named directly but referred to allusively as unico gaudens mulier marito (a wife finding joy in her preeminent husband).

The single exception is Ovid, but most of his allusions come from his period of exile, when desperation may have got the better of discretion. The dignified behaviour of Livia’s distinguished entourage was contrasted with the wild conduct of Julia’s friends at public shows, which drove Augustus to remonstrate with his daughter (her response: when she was old, she too would have old friends). In a telling passage Seneca compares the conduct of Livia favourably with even the universally admired Octavia. After losing Marcellus, Octavia abandoned herself to her grief and became obsessed with the memory of her dead son. She would not permit anyone to mention his name in her presence and remained inconsolable, allowing herself to become totally secluded and maintaining the garb of mourning until her death.

By contrast, Livia, similarly devastated by the death of Drusus, did not offend others by grieving excessively once the body had been committed to the tomb. When the grief was at its worst, she turned to the philosopher Areus for help. Seneca re-creates Areus’ advice. Much of it, of course, may well have sprung from Seneca’s imagination, but it is still valuable in showing how Livia was seen by Romans of Seneca’s time. Areus says that Livia had been at great pains to ensure that no one would find anything in her to criticise, in major matters but also in the most insignificant trifles. He admired the fact that someone of her high station was often willing to bestow pardon on others but sought pardon for nothing in herself.

…Perhaps most important, it was essential for Livia to present herself to the world as the model of chastity. Apart from the normal demands placed on the wife of a member of the Roman nobility, she faced a particular set of circumstances that were unique to her. One of the domestic priorities undertaken by Augustus was the enactment of a programme of social legislation. Parts of this may well have been begun before his eastern trip, perhaps as early as 28 bc, but the main body of the work was initiated in 18.

A proper understanding of the measures that he carried out under this general heading eludes us. The family name of Julius was attached to the laws, and thus they are difficult to distinguish from those enacted by Julius Caesar. But clearly in general terms the legislation was intended to restore traditional Roman gravitas, to stamp out corruption, to define the social orders, and to encourage the involvement of the upper classes in state affairs. The drop in the numbers of the upper classes was causing particular concern. The nobles were showing a general reluctance to marry and, when married, an unwillingness to have children. It was hoped that the new laws would to some degree counter this trend.

The Lex Iulia de adulteriis coercendis, passed probably in 18 bc, made adultery a public crime and established a new criminal court for sexual offences. The Lex Iulia de maritandis ordinibus, passed about the same time, regulated the validity of marriages between social classes. The crucial factor here, of course, was not the regulation of morality but rather the legitimacy of children. Disabilities were imposed on the principle that it was the duty of men between twenty-five and sixty-five and women between twenty and fifty to marry. Those who refused to comply or who married and remained childless suffered penalties, the chief one being the right to inherit. The number of a man’s children gave him precedence when he stood for office.

Of particular relevance to Livia was the ius trium liberorum, under which a freeborn woman with three children was exempted from tutela (guardianship) and had a right of succession to the inheritance of her children. Livia was later granted this privilege despite having borne only two living children. This social legislation created considerable resentment—Suetonius says that the equestrians staged demonstrations at theatres and at the games. It was amended in ad 9 and supplemented by the Lex Papia Poppaea, which seems to have removed the unfair distinctions between the childless and the unmarried and allowed divorced or widowed women a longer period before they remarried.

Dio, apparently without a trace of irony, reports that this last piece of legislation was introduced by two consuls who were not only childless but unmarried, thus proving the need for the legislation. Livia’s moral conduct would thus be dictated not only by the already unreal standards that were expected of a Roman matrona but also by the political imperative of her husband’s social legislation. Because Augustus saw himself as a man on a crusade to restore what he considered to be old-fashioned morality, it was clearly essential that he have a wife whose reputation for virtue was unsullied and who could provide an exemplar in her own married life.

In this Livia would not fail him. The skilful creation of an image of purity and marital fidelity was more than a vindication of her personal standards. It was very much a public statement of support for what her husband was trying to achieve. Tacitus, in his obituary notice that begins Book V of the Annals, observes that in the matter of the sanctitas domus, Livia’s conduct was of the ‘‘old school’’ ( priscum ad morem). This is a profoundly interesting statement at more than one level. It tells us something about the way the Romans idealised their past. But it also says much about the clever way that Livia fashioned her own image.

Her inner private life is a secret that she has taken with her to the tomb. She may well have been as pure as people believed. But for a woman who occupied the centre of attention in imperial Rome for as long as she did, to keep her moral reputation intact required more than mere proper conduct. Rumours and innuendo attached themselves to the powerful and prominent almost of their own volition. An unsullied name required the positive creation of a public image. Livia was despised by Tacitus, who does not hesitate to insinuate the darkest interpretations that can be placed on her conduct.

Yet not even he hints at any kind of moral impropriety in the narrow sexual sense. Even though she abandoned her first husband, Tiberius Claudius, to begin an affair with her lover Octavian, she seems to have escaped any censure over her conduct. This is evidence not so much of moral probity as of political skill in managing an image skilfully and effectively. None of the ancient sources challenges the portrait of the moral paragon. Ovid extols her sexual purity in the most fulsome of terms. To him, Livia is the Vesta of chaste matrons, who has the morals of Juno and is an exemplar of pudicitia worthy of earlier and morally superior generations. Even after her husband is dead she keeps the marriage couch (pulvinar) pure. (She was, admittedly in her seventies.)

Valerius Maximus, writing in the Tiberian period, can state that Pudicitia attends the couch of Livia. And the Consolatio ad Liviam, probably not a contemporary work but one at least that tries to reflect contemporary attitudes, speaks of her as worthy of those women who lived in a golden age, and as someone who kept her heart uncorrupted by the evil of her times. Horace’s description is particularly interesting. His phrase unico gaudens marito is nicely ambiguous, for it states that Livia’s husband was preeminent (unicus) but implies the other connotation of the word: that she had the moral superiority of an univira, a woman who has known only one husband, which in reality did not apply to Livia.

Such remarks might, of course, be put down to cringing flattery, but it is striking that not a single source contradicts them. On this one issue, Livia did not hesitate to blow her own trumpet, and she herself asserted that she was able to influence Augustus to some degree because she was scrupulously chaste. She could do so in a way that might even suggest a light touch of humour. Thus when she came across some naked men who stood to be punished for being exposed to the imperial eyes, she asserted that to a chaste woman a naked man was no more a sex object than was a statue. Most strikingly, Dio is able to recount this story with no consciousness of irony.

Seneca called Livia a maxima femina. But did she hold any real power outside the home? According to Dio, Livia believed that she did not, and claimed that her influence over Augustus lay in her willingness to concede whatever he wished, not meddling in his business, and pretending not to be aware of any of his sexual affairs. Tacitus reflects this when he calls her an uxor facilis (accommodating wife). She clearly understood that to achieve any objective she had to avoid any overt conflict with her husband.

It would do a disservice to Livia, however, to create the impression that she was successful simply because she yielded. She was a skilful tactician who knew how to manipulate people, often by identifying their weaknesses or ambitions, and she knew how to conceal her own feelings when the occasion demanded: cum artibus mariti, simulatione filii bene composita (well suited to the craft of her husband and the insincerity of her son) is how Tacitus morosely characterises that talent. Augustus felt that he controlled her, and she doubtless was happy for him to think so.

Dio has preserved an account of a telling exchange between Augustus and a group of senators. When they asked him to introduce legislation to control what was seen as the dissolute moral behaviour of Romans, he told them that there were aspects of human behaviour that could not be regulated. He advised them to do what he did, and have more control over their wives. When the senators heard this they were surprised, to say the least, and pressed Augustus with more questions to find out how he was able to control Livia. He confined himself to some general comments about dress and conduct in public, and seems to have been oblivious to his audience’s scepticism.

What is especially revealing about this incident is that the senators were fully aware of the power of Livia’s personality, but recognised that she conducted herself in such a way that Augustus obviously felt no threat whatsoever to his authority. Augustus would have been sensitive to the need to draw a line between Livia’s traditional and proper power within the domus and her role in matters of state. This would have been very difficult. Women in the past had sought to influence their husbands in family concerns. But with the emergence of the domus Augusta, family concerns and state concerns were now inextricably bound together.

…Although Livia did not intrude in matters that were strictly within Augustus’ domain, her restraint naturally did not bar communication with her husband. Certainly, Augustus was prepared to listen to her. That their conversations were not casual matters and were taken seriously by him is demonstrated by the evidence of Suetonius that Augustus treated her just as he would an important official. When dealing with a significant item of business, he would write things out beforehand and read out to her from a notebook, because he could not be sure to get it just right if he spoke extemporaneously. Moreover, it says something about Livia that she filed all Augustus’ written communications with her.

After his death, during a dispute with her son, she angrily brought the letters from the shrine where they had been archived and read them out, complete with their criticisms of Tiberius’ arrogance. Despite Tacitus’ claim that Livia controlled her husband, Augustus was willing to state publicly that he had decided not to follow her advice, as when he declined special status to the people of Samos. Clearly, he would try to do so tactfully and diplomatically, expressing his regrets at having to refuse her request. On other issues he similarly reached his own decision but made sufficient concessions to Livia to satisfy her public dignity and perhaps Augustus’ domestic serenity.

On one occasion Livia interceded on behalf of a Gaul, requesting that he be granted citizenship. To Augustus the Roman citizenship was something almost sacred, not to be granted on a whim. He declined to honour the request. But he did make a major and telling concession. One of the great advantages of citizenship was the exemption from the tax (tributum) that tributary provincials had to pay. Augustus granted the man this exemption. When Livia apparently sought the recall of Tiberius from Rhodes after the Julia scandal, Augustus refused, but did concede him the title of legatus to conceal any lingering sense of disgrace.

He was unwilling to promote Claudius to the degree that Livia wished, but he was willing to allow him some limited responsibilities. Thus he was clearly prepared to go out of his way to accede at least partially to his wife’s requests. But on the essential issues he remained very much his own man, and on one occasion he made it clear that as an advisor she did not occupy the top spot in the hierarchy. In ad 2 Tiberius made a second request to return from exile. His mother is said to have argued intensively on his behalf but did not persuade her husband. He did, however, say that he would be willing to be guided by the advice he received from his grandson, and adopted son, Gaius.”

- Anthony A. Barrett, “Wife of the Emperor.” in Livia: First Lady of Imperial Rome

#livia drusilla #livia first lady of imperial rome #octavian #fulvia #history #roman #ancient #anthony a. barrett

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shades-of-stony · 3 years

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ABO Stony AUs! (Part 2)

As promised, here is part 2! [link to Part 1] I’m not sure if I’m gonna make part 3 but there are still a bit ABO fics left.

A King For Christmas by iam93percentstardust

Summary: In 1867, Tony Stark flees New York after refusing to marry the alpha his parents chose for him. His money runs out in the small kingdom of Dacia, ruled over by King Steven of the Rogers line. Somehow, and he’s not entirely sure how, he ends up accepting the position of nanny to the king’s four children: Harley, Peter, Sarah, and Morgan.

Tony bonds with the children easily but their father is harder to get to know. Steve is still grieving his wife’s death four years earlier. His continued mourning has turned the once bright halls into dark and somber shadows of their former glory. Tony isn’t entirely certain what he can do but he knows that he has to do something or else the whole country, so attuned to their leader, will sink into despair. He begins by reconciling the king with his young children.

Meanwhile, the children have decided that it’s high time their father fall in love again—and Tony is the obvious choice. They concoct elaborate plans to force the two together, hardly realizing that Steve and Tony are falling in love, not through their shenanigans but through the quiet moments they share bonding over the love they have for the children.

What, Like It’s Hard? by JehBeeEh

Summary: Omega Tony Stark has it all, until his alpha boyfriend breaks his heart. In an effort to win him back, he follows the alpha of his dreams to Harvard Law School, where he discovers there might be more to being the first omega at the prestigious school. He also meets another alpha that might just make him forget the one he drove across the country for.

Two-Point Perspective by FestiveFerret for sabrecmc

Dear omega,

Congratulations! You've been selected. Alpha #95847872 has been assigned as your pre-bondee. A group bonding ceremony will take place on the 14th, unless other arrangements have been made by your alpha or their family. A valid bonding license must be submitted to Omega Services within 45 days of this letter or all services will be cancelled and any transferable benefits will not be applied to your alpha's package.

If there is some reason why you cannot be bonded on this date, please apply for an extension by calling 1-800-555-6827 within 7 days of receiving this letter.

Sincerely, National Omega Services

I Love You (From the Bottom to the Top) by RomancebyFaye for Reioka

Summary: Steve and Tony have a great relationship. They may have only been dating for a few months, but the truth is, they had been in love for years before that. Their relationship is only getting better from adding this new intimacy and Steve is very satisfied with how open Tony is in the bedroom. He’s giving and generous, sometimes to a fault, just as he is with everything.

And then Steve comes home early and catches sight of something he wasn’t meant to see. The shock he gets from the sight of watching his alpha ride a toy might not have been meant for him, but it doesn't stop him from wanting.

Now, if he can just figure out how to tell Tony how much he wants what he witnessed without putting his foot in his mouth…

Or Tony offers Steve something in the bedroom and Steve misunderstands the offer.

Until he doesn’t.

A Prime, Divided by avengersasssemble

Summary: Facing his and his infant son's possible death sentence, young prince Tony runs away to the only place where his father would dare not follow: the Northern Territories, known to house the most savage and brutal Alphas--including their bloodthirsty leader, the Prime Alpha. Forced to navigate fatherhood and diplomacy while being unable to speak the Northern language, Tony has to make decisions to save his son, even at his own expense.

Oversight by ShyOwl

Summary: It really wasn’t Steve’s fault that no one knew he was an omega.

I Love You 3000 by NazakiSama166

Summary: After the death of his husband, the only thing Steven Rogers could think of was going on and dying in one of his missions, and Steven was happy to get his wish.... that was until he woke up in a strange universe when people can shift into wolves and men can get pregnant... Oh, and did he mention that Tony was there too and was in love with his younger jackass self? And let's not forget about Peggy...

Life just loves to mess with him...

Dear Enemy by AvengersNewB

Summary: Alpha Steve and omega Tony are SHIELD agents who don't always see eye to eye, but some benefits on the side help them work things out in the most non-traditional way. Steve's jealousy after an unfortunate encounter with Ty Stone, however, makes things complicated.

Love Match by FestiveFerret

Summary: Tony had but one goal for the season: secure a marriage proposal from an alpha with the position and means enough to remove him from his father's house. Love was wholly irrelevant to the matter.

Stuck in a... by Annie D (scaramouche)

Summary: Steve gets into a serum-enhanced rut. Tony figures that there’d be a long list of people who’d volunteer to help Steve out, but there’s only one person Steve wants.

A Late-Night Snacks, and Other Good Ideas by Annie D (scaramouche)

Summary: Steve's heightened senses means that he always knows when Tony's in heat. One night, he finally does something about it.

citrus and lavender by JehBeeEh

Summary: Steve laid Tony on his bed as delicately as he could manage. Which was ridiculous because he knew, logically, that Tony was absolutely fine. JARVIS himself had told him. And that’s 100% why he had fought Natasha so hard on Tony not needing to go to medical when they came back, even though he probably could use the check up. Yup. That was definitely the only reason he had insisted on bringing Tony back to the penthouse. No other reason at all. If you keep this up, you just might start believing it, he thought to himself ruefully. Tony wasn’t his. He had made it very clear that he didn’t need some alpha in his life to mess with everything he’d worked so hard to accomplish. Especially not Steve Rogers.

Found Love in a Hopeless Place by crispybacon

Summary: Steve really, really did not want to tag along with his brother to the bar, no matter how many times the jerk nagged him that he needed to get laid. Just because Bucky’s known his Omega since kindergarten, and the pair have loud obnoxious sex in their shared small two bedroom apartment, didn’t mean Steve needed to stick his knot in any Omega that looks his way.

That’s not the kind of Alpha Steve was.

Or, Steve goes to a bar and meets an Omega with a complicated past that changes his life forever.

This is Not a Drill by sabrecmc

Summary: “Can I—can I see him? I mean meet him. Uh…welcome him to the team?” Tony clarified, probably not very well, he knew.

“Well…there’s a bit of an issue with that,” Fury said, and Tony figured this was where Fury got to whatever it was that had really forced his hand and made him call Tony in, knowing how much the man detested having to do so. “You see, well. He was suspended in the ice for nearly seventy years,” Fury began. Tony nodded along, because he could do math.

“I’m sure he has a lot of adjusting to do—“ Tony started.

“Seventy years,” Fury repeated, cutting Tony off and leaning back in his chair and making it rock slightly. “Of no suppressants.”

“Oh,” Tony managed to choke out past the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. “Oh.”

Everybody's got a hungry heart. by Perlmutt for ShadowsintheClouds

Summary: Tony Stark has never experienced a true heat due to the suppressants he's taking on a daily basis. Society accepts him as a beta, together with his friends and teammates and the alpha he's secretly in love with. But some things are just too big to be kept hidden forever. An unfortunate turn of events forces Tony to reveal his biggest secret to the world...

Baby, Just Say Yes by betheflame for starksnack

Summary: In a world where Tony's life looks a lot like Taylor Swift's, Steve realizes there always more to omegas than meets the eye.

Apple Pie and Sunshine by betheflame, starksnack

Summary: Even though they've loved each other for years, Steve and Tony have each convinced themselves that their one-night-stand was a fluke. Thing is, it also resulted in Tony getting pregnant and as the birth approaches, perhaps it's time to use their words.

blue since the day we parted by funkyspacegirlfriend

Summary: When he's twenty, the man Tony thinks will be his alpha and mate walks away, leaving Tony with a gift he'll never regret.

The same alpha reappears fifteen years later in the form of SI's new military liaison.

In my Favorite Dreams (I feel your heat) by Corsets_and_Cardigans for wingheads

Summary: Steve is on his morning run in DC when a ghost from his past comes back into his life. And he's not alone. *** “Steve?” Sam’s voice cut through the veil of the past, the crushing weight of memory that stole his breath. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

His staring must have finally alerted another parent, a woman eyeing him warily while tugging on Tony’s sleeve until he turned around. His eyes were just as expressive and wide as they were ten years ago, piercing the cold morning air straight to Steve’s own.

“Tony.”

“Wait. Tony Tony? The Tony? The Tony that Bucky busts your chops over Tony?”

His voice cracked, wrent into pieces at seeing his omega who wasn’t his anymore, body flaring in pain. Years worth of aching denial like a hot fireplace poker to his soul. “Yeah.”

“Okay then, who’s the kid?”

The Couch by Perlmutt

Summary: Steve overstepped a mark, when he accidentally called Tony, his mate, tiny. Because his omega was very self-conscious when it came to his height. So he needed to show him that he thought Tony's perfect just the way he was, if he didn't want to sleep on the couch for the next week. Luckily Steve was the man with a plan...

be the summer in my heart by billyscissors

Summary: After Obadiah betrays the Southern Isles, he offers Omega Prince Anthony Stark as tribute to appease the Warlord of the North

#stony #stony fics #stony fanfic #steve and tony #stevetony #stevetony fanfic #stevetony fic rec #stevetony fic #stony fic #SUPERHUSBANDS #fic rec

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