not a dream
Did anyone hear about the Reddit post from a pair of puppeteers who are getting married and want all of their guests to buy expensive puppets and keep them on during their whole wedding sans for bathroom breaks so the pair can have the puppet wedding they've always dreamt of?
james subconciously twists the ring on his fourth finger. “yeah, i am,” he smiles softly. “nearly a year ago now, actually. our anniversary comes up next month.”
“oh, that’s nice,” lily smiles, tilting her head to the side, sounding half geniune. “so, who is she? and when did you get over sirius’ stupid little brother?”
“actually, i got under him,” james’ gentle smiles turns into a smirk. “sirius’ stupid little brother is now my stupid little husband.”
Dark! Daemon Targaryen x Wife! Reader
Everyone in Westeros knew that the king's younger brother, Daemon Targaryen, has his eyes on you, a young beautiful Baratheon girl that the whole kingdom praises for beauty and fragility.
But you didn't care for his attention as much as you cared for the attention of another man, who is more gentle, kind, and younger then the cruel prince.
A Dragon and a Doe seem absurd to you.
Also, knowing Daemon's intentions towards you, you tried to avoid him at all costs.
But, how can you do that when your house, is heavily allied with House Targaryen, you are also a dear friend of the princess.
Yet, Daemon, didn't let you slide from between his fingers easily, he has to have you.
It didn't take long for the news of your lover's death to reach you.
And before you know it, you were forcefully wedded to Daemon.
Strangely enough, the handsome prince treated you kindly, he would even let you near his dragon.
"I would never harm you as long as you love and obey me as your husband"
Also, the same Daemon would not allow any man in your sight, all your servants are women.
You remember one of the soldiers entering your and Daemon's chambers to lend him a massage from the king.
That man was announced dead the next day, which made you more frightened of Daemon.
You knew that his 'kindness' towards you, could never cover his possessive nature, that fact would keep you up at night.
It also didn't take long for him to get you pregnant which left him in fear of losing you.
Daemon knew that there is a high chance of you not surviving during childbirth, especially since you have a fragile health, he did not care for a child as much as he cared for keeping you by his side.
But, deep down, he is delighted to see you pregnant with his child.
You are happy that you are pregnant, thinking that Daemon would be disgusted to sleep with you, and would spend his time getting with prostitutes.
However, the dragon prince kept himself by your side, he would even hold you in his embrace for long hours, refusing to let go of you.
On the day of the delivery, Daemon felt that you might die, to the point where he instructed healers to save you and not the child if you couldn't give birth.
In the end, you managed to deliver a healthy daughter, a Targaryen child with silver hair and light violet eyes, nothing that hints at a Baratheon in her.
"Are you going to cast me aside now that I have given birth to a daughter"
That's exactly what you wish for, that you two go your separate ways, that he would let you return to storm's end with your daughter.
Daemon would only smirk at you as he holds the newborn baby in his arms.
"This child is proof that I will never let go of you, my beautiful wife...her name shall be Elaena, our little Elaena"
Part 2 >>
just wanted to remind people of this in the current context of banning abortion and the recent gun violence by a man believing great replacement theory.
racists desperately want more white babies to be born. they live in absolute terror of becoming a racial minority in America.
I'm actually still, as the kids say, Big Mad™ about that really awful New York Times article about marriage, and I'd been meaning to make a post on this anyway for a while, so, based solely on my own experiences in my own relationships, here's my pithy bit of relationship wisdom:
Relationships take work, but they should not feel like work.
When I say "work," I'm thinking of a bunch of things that we do for each other that technically require effort, but the effort is minimal compared to wanting to make the other person's life easier and for them to be happy.
I like heist films and shows. My partner doesn't - he gets bad secondhand embarrassment. I spoil the plot for him to let him know what will happen, and I'm not offended if he pulls out headphones and plays Dark Souls on his laptop so his attention isn't solely on the movie. Both sitting through something you don't love and explaining what's going to happen are technically work – like, they're something you have to do instead of doing nothing – but it's not a big deal.
When one of us is working or watching something or on our computers, we can always interrupt the other (knowing that, if it can't be interrupted, we'll tell each other and it's no big deal). It takes effort for me to disengage from a movie to help him season chicken without getting his chicken-y hands all over the pepper shaker, and it takes effort for him to put away his video game to help me get stuff off a high shelf, but we do it, because it's not a big deal.
Most of the time, for long car trips, he drives, because I get nervous driving. But recently I drove the six-hour round trip to a family thing because he had driven to a different family thing the week before and was sick of driving and wanted to be able to nap in the car. We're both putting in the effort of driving each other, but it's not a big deal.
I hate physical chores and avoid them whenever possible, but I am good at planning and making lists and identifying problems. He prefers doing the actual physical stuff but gets nervous about messing something up if he's not following specific directions.
Writing out a long description of how to do the laundry (like, "all of the dark clothes need to be washed in cold water, gentle cycle, with enough liquid laundry soap that it comes up to the 1 line on the cap, and then hung on the drying rack instead of being put in the dryer") is work. Actually doing the laundry is also work. Planning meals for the week and then working out what groceries we need for those meals and making a list and then sorting that list out by store and specific aisle is work. Carrying the groceries up two flights of stairs to our apartment and putting them away is also work. This is literally how we divide up almost all of our chores. We do these things for each other because they make each other's lives easier.
Like... at no point does it feel like a grand sacrifice. There's no "oh god, there he goes, asking me to emulsify a sauce for him again. Oh well, I must Suffer™ because that's what love is." I cannot describe how absolutely mundane it feels. It just doesn't even register as effort.
I think that those things feeling like a grand sacrifice is what breeds resentment. It's not sustainable to feel like you're martyring yourself every day just to tolerate someone else's presence. Love doesn't mean heroically ignoring your own suffering forever.
And writing off a potential problem with "well, your partner is just an unfathomable mystery and inherently flawed, so nothing will change" or "that's how marriage works! love is a choice!" is really not helpful at all.