hisband

anonymous asked:

How many times has Simom texted you and instead of saying Raphael he said "His husband"? He was so giddy last night before they left that Raphael finally agreed on being called hisband. He wouldn't stop calling him it, it was so cute.

Alec - He called us at three in the morning and told us that him and his “husband” were glad that we let them come on here and talk to you all. He said “his husband” at least fifteen times.

Magnus  - It was adorable. Maybe I should start calling you my husband?

Alec - Is that a proposal?

Magnus -

Roses are red Part 4 (Joker and reader fan fiction)

Read Part 1 here
Read Part 2 here


Read Part 3 here

Why weren’t you doing anything to try and escape? You were paralysed and unable to move your legs. Were you frozen in fear? You screamed ‘Please let me go!’ and tried desperately to get free from his iron gasp. In response to your protest he leaned your back further over the railing. ‘Flexible. I like that’ he murmured in-between a rough kiss before laughing at your fear. Pulling you back from the edge he quickly placed one arm around your legs and another under your arms picking you up the way grooms do to their brides when entering the threshold of the house as a married couple for the first time. He was now holding you right over the edge of the balcony. His muscular arms you could see flexing under his crisp white shirt was the only thing between you and a quick death on the pavement below. You grabbed around his neck for support, your faces only inches away and his procellous sea eyes bore deeply into yours. ‘Please don’t do this!’ you pleaded, your heart pounded in your ears and tears began to well up in your eyes. ‘I have to’ was all you heard him say before the hissing sting of fear and adrenaline made everything go black.

*Ding dong…Ding dong* waking with a jolt in your bed, you looked around through sleepy eyes to find that you were surprisingly not dead, it was now daytime and someone was apparently at your door. What on earth had happened last night? Could that all have been a dream? Looking for any form of physical evidence for his presence in your apartment, everything seemed normal. No rose petals and there was no sign of the thousands of Joker cards that had littered your floor just hours ago. Or had they? *Ding-Ding-Ding dong* ‘Hold on I’m coming!’ you shouted to the unknown heckler. Scratching your bedhead and trying to tame your hair you slipped on a dressing gown and glanced at your clock on your way to answering the door. 8:30am. ‘Shit!’ you murmered. Shit, shit shit! You had to be at work at 9! You had half an hour to get yourself looking somewhat presentable and get your ass halfway across the city. Running to the door you were greeted by Mrs Ginger, a small middle-aged southern belle who moved to the city from Virginia a few months ago for her husbands job. You had been an unwilling participant in an hourly long recital of this woman’s entire life story when you had bumped into her when she was moving in. She had her auburn hair cemented up with hairspray into a 60s up-do and her teacup silky terrier was tucked carefully in her arms. ‘Hi there darlin’, I was just wonderin’ if I could borrow a cup of sugar, you see I’m all out and I’ve got my lady friends comin’ over later for a… oh sorry honey did I catch you at a bad time?’ she said in her thick southern draw, looking curiously at your dishevelled hair. ‘Oh no its fine, hang on a sec’ darting to the kitchen quickly you re-emerged to a wide eyed Mrs Ginger and presented her with the whole sugar bag. ‘Honey you don’t have to give me the whole thing!’, ‘ah no its more than fine, see you later I’m afraid I’m very short on time today!’ you chirped as you began closing the door. Just as Mrs Ginger began to turn to walk back down the hall, you shouted after her ‘wait!’, ‘yes darlin?’ she said as she patted the small dog. ‘Er, um, you didn’t by any chane happen to hear anything unusual last night did you? Like any weird noises outside?’ you said anxiously, awaiting the reply with bated breath. ‘Why no sweet pea I don’t think I did, why did you hear something go bump in the night? I slept like a baby always have. Did I ever tell you the story about when me and my hisband were sleepin’- you cut her off sensing that this could be a long conversation to nowhere. -‘ Mrs Ginger I’m so terribly sorry, but I really must go now.…Enjoy your sugar!’ you chimed before you closed the door and began a mad dash to get yourself ready for your day.

The large sign reading ‘Wayne Enterprises’ signalled your arrival to work and your phone forgivingly displayed the time of 9:02. You had made it. Somehow. You had even managed to grab a coffee on the way to jumping in a black cab, and the loving fumes caressed your face, reviving you slightly from your sleepless state. Yes that’s right, the ‘Wayne Enterprises’ was where you worked and this was precisely why you should never have been convinced by Freda to venture to that club that night. It was in a bad part of town you had promised you would stay away from. Still, you thought you knew how to handle yourself after the weeks of intensive training.

As a fourth year psychology student, you had applied for an opportunity to work in Arkham Asylum and study the criminal elite and had been selected by Dr Avidan who saw your potential. You had an uncanny knack for working things out. Things such as people for one, but also old cases and cryptic clues, and it had become your hobby in recent years to try and piece together cold cases. You know the ones, were the people were long gone but the mystery and enigma endures. After excelling with some of Gotham’s old criminal case files, solving some of the most puzzling decade old crimes that had police baffled for years, Dr Avidan offered you a new opportunity. ‘I have a… well lets just say special client that needs help, and who better to call on than you!’, ‘wait so who am I working for?’, ‘well, this particular client doesn’t like to be known as such so you’ll be working for me and ill be relaying your findings to him.’ They just should have known better than to keep secrets from a girl who has been able to solve decade old crimes. You went digging and by the end of the week you had slammed a huge file down on Dr Avidan’s desk. ‘So im helping the Batman?! Bruce Wayne is Batman?!’. ‘ I’ve got to hand it to you girl’ he looked up from his spectacles chuckling, ‘your just too good.’

In the months that passed since then, you had worked in the secret laboratories at Wayne Enterprises as a principal forensic psychologist and criminal researcher.  You had also been put through rigmarole of training to ensure your safety in the face of danger and could now fire several weapons with amazing precision. Your cover story was ‘sectary’. I know, how demeaning. ‘What have you got for me today Doc?’ you chirped as you walked confidently into the office. Dr Aviden put down the file he was reading and looked up with you with a slight smile in the corner of his mouth ‘Ah there you are, good. Bruce and I have something real special to propose to you today. Kid, you’re ready to go to the next level. ’ You swallowed hard, ‘ah what do you mean?’, Bruce walked into the room and answered the question for you ‘You’re ready for field work and we need you undercover fast. There’s something big going on in Gotham and we need you and your abilities to find out what. Before more people get hurt.’’ This doesn’t have anything to do with that string of drug overdoses from that unknown substance last week does it?’ you questioned, your heart starting to quicken with excitement. You had always wanted to be able to use your skills in the field. Perhaps even get to try out a few of your fancy new fighting moves. ‘Yes it has everything to do with that, we think there is a new player in town but so far we’ve been stumped in every attempt to reveal his identity.’ Bruce noted solemnly. ‘Ah Bruce, when will Mr Johnson be arriving?’ Dr Aviden piped in suddenly, ‘Should be any minute now’. ‘Wait who is Mr Johnson?’ you queried. ‘You didn’t think we would be sending you in alone did you? Mr Johnson is to be your undercover partner and also trainer. He’s from the special forces.’ Dr Aviden chimed in. ‘Oh hell no, is this just because I’m a girl? Because I tell you what I can take care of myself, I don’t need any overbearing bossy military man to take control and call the shots!’ in your mind you were imagining Mr Johnson as a middle aged balding man with an ego the size of a continent, and you were not prepared for how wrong your assumptions were. Stopping your hateful speech just in time, the automatic doors to the lab opened to reveal possibly the most beautiful man you had ever seen. His dark chestnut hair was slicked back, accentuating his high cheekbones and his gorgeously angular jawline was accentuated by a thin layer of brown stubble. He didn’t smile as he approached; he simply smouldered as his Greek statuesque lips slightly pulled up in the corners. As he got closer, you couldn’t help notice his baby blue eyes were excruciatingly alluring, dipping your mind into cool pools flecked with silver sparks like some kind of cosmic galaxy.  You felt your cheeks blush and wondered if anyone else had noticed you get lost in his eyes before you could resume a normal expression. ‘Hi I’m Johnson. Jared Johnson.’ His at the same time smokey-smooth voice expressed. ‘I’m (Y/N)’ you said timidly. ‘What is it what you were saying about not working with a partner?’ Dr Aviden teased. He could read you like a book, always could. ‘Erm, nothing.’ You dismissed. ‘Great’ piped in Bruce. ‘Lets debrief and get down to business. You need to find the identity of this guy and fast. Your first undercover mission will therefore be with someone who knows the criminal underworld better than anybody else; the King of Gotham city, the Joker.

Your heart stopped. Oh shit! You cursed in your mind. Things were about to get interesting…

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Sansa’s Flowering - Show Universe  (or why I want to sometimes strangle my husband for making me actually think)

About a month ago I may or may not have had too much wine and sat my husband down, ordering him to watch Hound videos with me on Youtube. “You haven’t seen season one Hound and Sansa stuff yet!” I whined while he smirked. “That’s his little bird, right?” he asked me.  And then there was much praising of him being and awesome listener. Anyway, we got to the very brief scene where Sansa flowers and me, explaining every part in much detail, started going on and on about how it’s the Hound that had to break the news to his higher ups now that Sansa’s a woman. Like, he just the other day said he’d place himself between her and Joff and BOOM! Sansa’s body decides to take him up on the offer. And it’s just horrible that he of all people as to do this. What a kick in the nuts for the guy!


Now I understand it’s an assumption that Sandor tattle tales. But let’s roll with it. Out of the three people in that room I can only think of one that would blab. Now, while I’m going on about how sad and tragic it is that this girl he wants to protect, he now has to betray, my husband cuts in and something like the following happened.


Me – It’s so sad he had to tell on her.

Husband – No, he didn’t

Me – What are you talking about?

Husband – He didn’t have to say anything.

*Me with horribly confused drunk face*

Husband – Who in that room is going to know or care if he doesn’t? He could have just walked out. Let someone else deal with it. No one would know. He didn’t have to do it.

Me – Oh my god, why are you doing this?

Hisband – He didn’t have to but he did anyway. Think on that.

Me – I hate you when you do this.

Husband – No you don’t. You like to think.

Then the subject was changed and life went on. But I’ve been stewing on this for a freakin’ month. Assuming he was the one that told … yeah, why the fuck did he? There’s Sansa and Shae in the room with him. When Shae’s running down the hall after the handmaiden I don’t see any other people.

So I’ll make another leap and assume that the Queen or Joff sent him to go collect her. Therefore, if he shows up empty handed, they’ll want to know why. So then he either has to lie or tell the truth. If he lies, I’m sure the Queen is going to find out soon and then he’s in hot shit. Which would probably lead to him not being in a position that he can continue to keep an eye on her. So in a horribly fucked up way he’s still doing good by her in the best way he possibly can. He tells so he doesn’t lose his place near her. I think I can live with this explanation. This is Sandor being Sandor in all his glory. Most of the time, when he does something ultimately good, it’s covered in shit.

Scenario two is that no one sent him. Now, why does he tell?  I think it’s very much for the same above reasons. He knows there’s no way to hide the information forever so it may as well be him that tells, solidifying the crown’s trust in him even further and keeping him near the little bird. (ten points to the “Sandor’s not an idiot” column please).

And the third scenario is he’s battling with loyalty vs. what he feels is right. There’s a very real, visual struggle that Rory brings to life that is missing (to me) in the books. The books do touch on Sandor’s jaded attitude but it’s not as in your face as Rory portrays. It’s much easier to see it when you can, well, see it. There’s a HUGE difference in the man who warns Tyrion to watch himself at Winterfell and the man who glares at Joff when Myrcella sails away. And it keeps happening all the way up to the night of the Blackwater. (god how I love the “The King has asked you a question” line. You can totally make out the silent “fucks sake what am I doing?)  I just feel like this third scenario, if you buy into it, is a very clear shift of him “doing his duty” and then feeling like shit after. It’s a time when he probably is becoming much more self reflective, in as much of a way as that is possible for this man. Mainly he’s just getting really pissed off at everyone, himself included.

I’m going with the first explanation. It’s the most satisfying to me.

Thranduil in the Shire

We all know Thranduil and Thorin don’t see eye to eye (literally and figuratively), but obviously they need to uphold fair relations since they’re both kings and its the diplomatic thing to do. They mostly do it because they’re partners tell them to.

So it turns out that Thorin and Bilbo will be having a lovely wedding ceremony in the Shire.

Bilbo used his stern voice as soon as Thorin grumbled once about inviting Thranduil and that was the last Thorin ever dared mention anything of it around his hisband-to-be (because god knows Bilbo could be cut throat if he wanted). 

Thranduil, always complaining and trying to find reasons not to go to the damn wedding, is finally pushed into attending by Bard. Bard is also a king so he’s like “I’m invited and I’m going so it’ll just look bad if you don’t show up”.

So both kings will reluctantly end up meeting each other face to face once again.

But here’s the greatest part:

Humongous Elf King Thranduil in his ridiculously lavish and long robes in the Shire amongst all the tiny little hobbits.Thranduil in the Shire with the hobbits.

They would all stare and those who had enough courage would talk his ear off and paw at him, prodding at his every jewel and fine garment.

The children would love him and tug on him and try to climb him like a tree. Being the composed figure of regality that he is, he tries to remain calm as he plucks curly haired, button nosed children off of him left and right. 

On top of that, clumsy dancing hobbits too happy and drunk for manners are always stepping over his robes and he almost trips at least twenty times. Oh yes, and of course there are dwarves there too with the same attitude (except their lack of manners is far more intentional). 

The doorways of the Shire make his back ache and every piece of furniture is too damn small.

In the end, Thorin isn’t so upset that the elfking was invited, since it was pretty entertaining to watch him suffer. And needless to say, Bard had a lot to make up for when they returned to Mirkwood/Dale.

Stay, don't leave.

Louis Tomlinson had been living with his aunt in Paris ever since his third birthday. She wouldn’t really tell him why they had adopted him, but later on in life he learnt the truth. His mum, Jay had been drug addicted after that his father had left them. She couldn’t possibly take care of a child. His aunt, Mary and he hisband never had a child so they took him in as Jay went into rehab. He was seven when she got out but he never knew about that, she sent them postcards but in general, he didn’t really care about her.

Louis on his side, lived on with his life. He only spoke french and understood english perfecty as his aunt was a brit and spoke to him in english. Surely, he was the best in his english class but that wasn’t really surprising. He didn’t speak much though, which he didn’t really care about anyway. He intented to live his entire life here, in this city. Louis had a group of wonderful mates, but Stan was his best friend here. At age sixteen he started to date the most beautiful girl in school, Eleanor and he was compelty in love with that girl.

His life changed suddenly when his mum called them and told them she wanted Louis to move back with her. He was sixteen, it was summer before senior year and now he was taken to another country. Of course, Louis was extremly upset but Mary couldn’t do anything about it. Louis would be moving in with his mum, her new hisband Mark and their four daughters.

Louis had cried as he was saying good bye to Eleanor at the airport, but she promised to skype and visit him. Stan had thrown a party for him few days earlier. Louis just didn’t know how he would be able to do this. He arrived in rainy England, Jay was so happy to see him. She kissed and held him, Louis was forced to smile. The entire ride home to Doncaster, his mother spoke and Louis only nodded. He was heart broken and he didn’t like this one bit. But the worst part was yet to come, in one week he’d be starting school…