otp: i shall never love a husband as i love you

anonymous asked:

SO TEMPTED TO REWATCH BORGIAS FOR CESARE/LUCREZIA, which episodes would you recommend for the most ces/lu centric?

you know it comes down to asking which episodes are my favorites, don’t you?

well, here is a list:

  • the poisoned chalice, because our babies were depicted as star-crossed lovers from the start
  • the moor; “i shall never love a husband as i love you cesare” (enough said i’m out)
  • lucrezia’s wedding (that carry-the-bride scene alone makes the episode worth a watch)
  • nessuno (the way he looks at her as if she were the virgin incarnate makes me weak in the knees EVERY FUCKING TIME)
  • the beautiful deception (because i’m more of a tragic kind of girl and the way cesare copes with lucrezia’s distress in that episode gave me shivers)
  • day of ashes —> the ambiguous “i promised you a heart” scene (cesare always reminds me of a cat in that episode, you know, bringing back mice to his mistress… ok i shut up)
  • the confession, for the bedroom sequence, but chiefly for their dancing together (i somehow understood at that moment that he would never give up on her and that alfonso was screwed already)
  • the purge (do i need to elaborate on that one? do i?)
  • siblings, more for the “i will make you happy” and kissing scenes because of reasons
  • banquet of chestnuts (FAVORITE EPISODE IN THE WHOLE DAMN SHOW THEY’RE SHINING IN IT their star-crossed lovers trope is showing like never and yes i might be somewhat masochistic)
  • the prince, because she’s his and can’t fight it; “is it all i am now brother? borgia.”

my very favorites: 3.4 / 3.2 / 2.6 / 2.10

hope i haven’t bored you to death… anyway, enjoy your borgiacest rewatch, dear anon!

Proper Love

I decided to write something longer. This has two prompts: “Not exactly proper, is it darling?” and “Love isn’t perfect and that’s okay.”

Very minor spoilers for Nick’s questline. Timeline is kept vague. Feedback would be awesome. Enjoy!


Cherry stared in the mirror, almost unable to recognize herself. Six months in the wasteland had changed her appearance dramatically, and she wasn’t sure what she thought of that. She had tanned, obviously, which somehow made her freckles stand out even more. Her hair was longer, since she had better things to do than get a haircut. She had lost some weight in her face, and her eyes were dark from improper sleep. Her glasses usually hid that though. Makeup was still available post-apocalypse, but she used it sparingly. Generally, her looks were low on her priority list.

That was about to change.

They were in Diamond City, on invitation from the mayor. He was hosting a birthday party, a swanky over-the-top affair, and had insisted on her being there. The downside was, she had to fit in with the city’s elite, and the “wandering wastelander” look was not going to get her through the door.

“Is this really necessary?” She asked for the fifth time. She was seated, watching her companion move around her. If she was going to get all dolled up, she needed help.

“Hey, if mayor asshole doesn’t want me there singing happy birthday to him, the least I can do is help you get ready before I go out snooping for a scoop.” Piper winked down at Cherry. “Now, which shade of lipstick do ya want? Sexy red, or slutty red?” The vault dweller cringed, not liking the devious glint in Piper’s eyes.

The upside was that she was going with Nick. The thought made her heart flutter. She was in a constant state of confusion about her feelings towards him, and she didn’t know what to do. Her life had been turned upside down in the course of a day- a 200-year-long day- and as much as she missed her family, at least she’d found a new one. Nick was important to her, he understood what she went through. But more than that, he was a kind, honest man with a heart of gold (literally, he’d joked one time; most of his circuits were made of the metal). She still loved Nate, but he was gone, forever. The only way for her to survive was to adapt and move on. Day by day it became a little bit easier. Nick made it easier.

As Piper helped her get dressed, Cherry was quiet. She’d almost messed up their relationship that time in Sanctuary when she almost kissed him, the last thing she wanted was to make another awkward situation. They were more or less going on a date, and it had been a while since she’d last gone on one.

As Piper finished up, Cherry smiled. She looked like she did back in her university days. Maybe she had a shot at pulling this off after all.


“Is this really necessary?”

Ellie giggled as she finished adjusting Nick’s bowtie. “You know it is. There.” She stepped back, admiring her work. “You look so handsome. I’m sure a certain vaultie will approve,” she said with a wink.

Groaning, Nick reached for his fedora. “Not you too,” he muttered, annoyed. Gossip at Sanctuary Hills lately had revolved mostly around he and Cherry. People had finally noticed their… connection. How she mostly took him out on missions and spent more time with him than anyone else while they were home. Now word had made its way to Diamond City, Piper’s doing no doubt.

“I think it’s romantic,” Ellie said as Nick shrugged into his trench coat. “Now, remember to open the door for her, and pull out her chair. There will be flower vendors near the front gate, I put a few caps into your coat pocket for that. And you have to ask her to dance, don’t leave her stranded for the mayor or some other bozos to hit her up.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Just because I don’t date doesn’t mean I don’t know how to behave during one,” he answered testily, turning to look in the mirror. He had never been a vain man, nor a vain synth, but even he could admit he cleaned up nicely. He was wearing a tuxedo, in good condition for how old it was. Ellie had used agency funds for it, on the grounds that he had to look good to build up his reputation. He knew her real motives, and would never voice that he was actually touched by her enthusiasm.

“Ha! So it is a date! Wait till I tell Piper!” Ellie clapped her hands together and Nick cursed to himself. He really didn’t like people talking about him. “Don’t read too much into it,” he grumbled, more for his own sake than Ellie’s. “It was a slip of the tongue.”

There was a heavy pause. Nick knew exactly what Ellie was thinking, and he glared at her with all his strength. “You should be saving those tongue slips for Cherry,” she finally blurted out, and Nick threw up his hands.


Nick paced outside the gate, lit cigarette in one hand and a red rose in the other. Roses were rare, and more expensive than the other flowers the vendor had. But as long as they were having a night out, he might as well spend big.

And it was worth it. When Cherry approached Nick let out a low whistle. Her dress was floor-length, navy blue, and she had bright red heels that matched her lipstick. Her hair was up in an elegant bun, some curly strands framing her face.

She stopped a few paces away, and Nick eagerly- too eagerly, What am I, a teenager?- made up the gap. “You uh, come here often?” he asked, breaking the ice. It worked, and Cherry smirked. “Only when I’m treated to a night out by a handsome man.” She ran her gaze over him. “You look great, Nick,” she said more seriously, and Nick smiled. “Thank you,” he replied sincerely. “I… I got this for you.” He held out the rose, and Cherry blushed, making Nick’s smile wider. Oh yeah, definitely worth it.


As the party dragged on, Cherry tried to get a moment to herself. Social niceties had to be met, and many people wanted a chance to say they met the woman out of time. Others had problems they needed solved, and were practically throwing caps at her for her services. She was finally able to get away when it was time for the mayor to lead the first dance of the evening.

“What a bunch of vultures,” Nick complained as he moved to stand beside her. “I mean I’m used to it, but not like this. My office is much too small to have this many visitors at once. Thank God.” The music started up, the band playing a waltz that she recognized from the classical music radio.

Cherry glanced sideways at her companion. “Wanna dance?” she asked slyly.

Nick chuckled. “A woman asking a synth to dance? Not exactly proper, is it darling?”

Cherry grinned, her cheeks warming at the endearment. “Then let’s cause a scandal, shall we?” Nick nodded, holding out his arm, and he lead her onto the dance floor.


Nick was nervous. He only knew how to dance because Nick had known how to dance. The synth himself had never applied those skills. And now he was about to, in front of a crowd of people, with a beautiful woman he had feelings for. Clearing his throat, he gingerly gripped Cherry’s left hip, and took her hand with his left. She wrapped her other arm around his shoulder, smiling up at him. They both heard curious murmuring around them. Two of the most famous people in the city were about to dance, and everyone wanted to see it.

Normally Nick would have made some kind of quip at a moment like this, but words were failing him. So he let his feet do the talking as he took the first steps, smoothly leading Cherry through the first part of the waltz. She was graceful on her feet, a natural dancer. He knew she had been a lawyer, but he wondered if she ever danced professionally, or took lessons. She also looked happier than she had in a while, almost joyful. Her eyes never left his.

His reverie was broken when she spoke up. “The last time I danced like this was at my wedding,” she said wistfully. Nick twitched but stayed silent. It would be ugly for him to admit he didn’t want to hear about the love of her life… he had told her about Jenny though, so he had no right to complain.

“He stepped on my feet. More than once,” Cherry continued. “The first time we met, he tripped and spilled coffee all over me. And when he proposed, he somehow managed to set our apartment rug on fire.”

“Gee, it’s a miracle you survived long enough to get married. He’s lucky you fell for his seductive skills.” Nick tightened his arm around her as the dance sped up.  

“Love isn’t perfect and that’s okay,” she answered, laughing when Nick shot her a confused look. “Nate said that in his wedding vows. He insisted we write our own, but then he lost his cue cards and had to make something up.”

“I take it he wasn’t a man of words,” Nick replied, and Cherry laughed again. “Nope. It took him six months to write those vows. He never did find them.”

They fell into a comfortable silence as they twirled their way across the dance floor. They were no longer the center of attention, and as they danced, Nick’s focus narrowed until all he could think about was the woman in front of him. He began to tune out the music, instead listening to the swishing of her dress across their feet, her quickened breath, the thrum of her pulse. In this moment, he’d never felt more alive.

I’m in love with you.

The words were on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to say them, needed to, even though it was the worst idea he’d ever thought up. Cherry’s husband was murdered in front of her, her son kidnapped and still missing. He wasn’t sure if his feelings were genuine, or a jumble of old memories and experiences that were from another life. He had to be sure a romantic relationship was even possible before pursuing it. He owed it to her.

They stopped with the music, and Nick dipped her, causing a gasp of surprise. He pulled her back up, pleased that he made her blush again. “Thanks for the dance, doll,” he said smoothly, kissing her hand. She giggled, and Nick held her a moment longer before slowly letting go.

“Anytime,” Cherry answered, breathless. She knew now that she had more than mere survival to look forward to. And it was thanks to one detective.

I love you, Nick.


Floral Memoranda

Based on this Prompt Post.

Summary: Person A owns a flower shop and person B comes storming in one day, slaps 20 bucks on the counter and says “How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?”

Notes: I tweaked some things. That post also has an example of the first bouquet(a photo).

Hannibal’s day was going well. Or as well as his days usually went when dealing with annoying people who couldn’t help but be rude. Still, this day had seemed more serene than many others because no one had come in yet.

Hannibal was able to simply relax with a cup of tea and a good book.

Of course it was around lunch that his peaceful day turned on its heads. Or rather, he finally had a customer.

A man, dressed in a horrid brown jacket, and scuffed denim trousers, burst into the shop, looking furious. He had the shadow of a beard growing, making him appear much older than his young face implied.

His hair was dark, with curls that flopped in every direction. His eyes were a unique shade of blue that Hannibal wasn’t used to seeing in people. Overall, the man was stunning in physical appeal. His attitude left a lot to be desired though.

The man stormed up to the counter and slapped a fifty dollar bill down. His breathing was ragged and he looked ready to spit fire.

“How do I passive-aggressively say ‘fuck you’ in flower?” the man demanded.

Hannibal was caught for a moment, almost annoyed. But this strange man’s words had brought up many questions. What exactly happened to make him so angry? And why did he feel the need to purchase flowers in order to tell someone off?

Hannibal couldn’t deny his sudden interest, and decided to pardon the man’s foul language in favor of learning more.

Placing his cup on the matching saucer, Hannibal stepped around the counter and crooked a finger, to have the man follow. He smirked when the man flushed suddenly, but looked away and trudged after him.

“For the message of your desire, one would need a rather unique bouquet.”

Hannibal’s fingers trailed over the lavender colored plant he had in mind. “Foxglove,” he told the man. “It stands for ‘insincerity’. It would be a lovely plant flanking the others.”

Hannibal was already taking two stalks. 

“Next we have Meadowsweet. It would work nicely as the centerpiece of this particular creation. It stands for uselessness. All the other plants would be simply leading up to this revelation.”

The man accepted the stalk of white, staring at it in contemplation.

Unable to stop his smirk, Hannibal lead him further into the attached greenhouse, waving his arm toward a nearby display of carnations. “This will be our next flower. Carnations have a unique petal design which make them perfect for anything. Yellow is the one we want.”

“Why yellow?” the man asked, nose wrinkled in disgust. Yellow wasn’t the most pleasing of colors, but Hannibal refrained from saying anything.

“Yellow carnations stand for ‘disappointment’. As if you are saying, ‘you have disappointed me’.”

“I like it.”

Hannibal laid only one bloom in the crook of his arm with the Foxglove. The largest, yellow bloom he had.

“Next, we’ll be using some Orange Lilies. They symbolize ‘hatred’, in the most basic of terminology.”


He chose the two best Orange Lilies he could find. Their petals were vibrant and there would be no missing them.

“Finally, geraniums. A few at least, to place at random.”

“What do they stand for?” the man asked.

Hannibal smirked. “’Stupidity’.”

He was slightly charmed when the man laughed. His laugh was low and smooth, and caressed Hannibal’s ears nicely.

“I think the proper color for the ribbon would be black. It is often associated with death and I’m certain you’d like the point made obvious. This relationship is over and there is no possible way to rekindle it.”

“Damn straight.”

Oddly enough, the man’s gruff attitude was adorable. As if he was trying so hard to seem threatening, and was just coming across as cute to Hannibal.

Hannibal took his findings along, leading the man back to the main part of the shop. “I’ll fix these up for you.”

“Good luck. These colors look horrible together.”

He spared an amused smile. Some people would never understand the subtle beauty even within the ugliness of life. But that was okay.

Hannibal wrapped black tissue paper around the carefully prepared bundled and finished the work with an elaborate, black ribbon tied to keep the flowers in place.

“That will be thirty-seven fifty, Mr….”

“Graham. Will Graham,” the man answered, pushing the fifty across the counter.

“It’s been a pleasure, Will. I’m Hannibal Lecter.”

The man shook his hand quickly, eyes avoidant and flush ever present.

How charming.

“Thanks again,” Will said, lifting the bouquet carefully in one hand and his change in the other.

Hannibal stared at the man’s shapely rump as he walked out the door, slightly sad to see him leaving.

The rest of his day was boring.

To his immense pleasure, Will Graham was back a week later, stomping into the shop and walking right up to the counter to slam another fifty down.

“How do you say ‘I like you’, in flower?”

Hannibal could feel the growing annoyance of jealousy building suddenly. He was also tempted to do the rude thing and lie by giving the man the wrong flowers, but Hannibal had more class than that. Surely he would be able to outdo anyone who may have caught Will Graham’s interest?

“Come,” the man ordered, voice suave and borderline erotic. As expected, Will Graham blushed. It was a lovely shade of pink on his skin. He could probably force other shades of pink as well, in the future.

“Gardenias are lovely, and actually mean ‘you are lovely’ or ‘secretly in love with you’.”

Hannibal chose several of his best blooms, and moved on toward another section of the wall. “White Violets mean, ‘let us chance happiness’. A subtle desire for more than what is already there. Simple, yet beautiful.”

Will eyed the growing bouquet intensely. As if they held all the answers. Hannibal had to squash the small niggling of distaste. He was more responsible than this!

“Finally, I think you would benefit from a scarlet Zinnia being your centerpiece. They stand for ‘constancy’ and promise loyalty in all things. A touching message.”

Hannibal arranged the blossoms accordingly, smiling to himself. It was a lovely collection, and he was envious of the receiver. Still, another beautiful work of art made by his hands. He was proud of it.

“I suggest a white ribbon to show purity of intention.”

He even used white tissue paper.

“Nineteen seventy-five, please?”

Will handed over the necessary payment and accepted his order with care. Hannibal gave his change over, and was ready to watch the man leave again, when Will Graham suddenly held out the bouquet Hannibal had just made and asked, “Would you like to go for coffee?”

Hannibal’s surprise morphed into satisfaction, and he accepted the gift with a smile, unable to stop himself from scenting the blooms. Lovely, just as he had made them.

And Will Graham was asking him out on a date. Not someone else. Hannibal.

“I’d love to,” the man smiled, already reaching for his keys. “I know a lovely shop a few blocks away.”

Will sputtered as Hannibal moved to put his newly acquired bouquet into a vase of water. Said vase was displayed proudly on the counter, so that everyone may see the flowers.

“Shall we?” Hannibal asked.


This was a beautiful beginning. Hannibal could tell.

{Check out my Hannigram fics on AO3.}

Vikings 3x01 AKA an ode to Ragnar/Athelstan

fuck. me.

that was such a good season opener i can’t even. just, everything. it set up the conflicts/romances/battle strategy of the coming season, reminded us of the friendships we love and the characters that deserve a good smack (I’m looking at u Rollo, you piece of shit) and had some kick ass fight scenes.

and the OTP was strong in this one. I’m talking like, not five mins in to the ep, we get Ragnar literally saying, and I quote; “wherever you go, I shall follow” to Athelstan while Aslaug looks on in dismay/jealousy. i just can’t with the newly crowned King and his husband priest. their easy interaction. their trust. their respect for each other’s culture/religion/boundaries. *brb crying forever*

 their first scene together in S3, Ragnar compares their gods, placing them on equal standing and giving their judgement equal weight (in contrast to Aethelwulf later in the ep, who disses the Viking’s gods and flat out states that monotheism and polytheism cannot coexist peacefully side by side). 

Ragnar remembers an important Biblical figure without prior prompting, showing that he’s not only asked Athelstan for information on his faith, (cos we know Athelstan doesn’t volunteer that info due to the risk of appearing non-Viking) Ragnar has taken that info on board and cared enough to remember it. he’s not just pandering to Athelstan’s interests, he’s genuinely interested in his boyfriend’s faith and culture. futhermore, he literally calls Athelstan ‘the Jesus to my St John the Baptist’, like, for real. he acknowledges the depth and importance of their relationship with Biblical references. what a geek.

and then later in the ep, Ragnar listens to Athelstan’s advice and actually takes it on board, trusting him to be his translator, and actually saying out loud he trusts him to look after his interests (contrast with Lagertha’s confidant, who betrayed her as soon as her back was turned). “there’s no one i trust more than you” he tells Athelstan, whilst in a room with Lagertha, Bjorn, Floki etc etc. 

I can’t help but tie it into Bjorn’s storyline, where he’s desperately trying to get the woman he loves to stay behind, out of the conflict where its safe. Ragnar doesn’t have to fight Athelstan to get him to stay behind- Athelstan immediately agrees. “if that’s what you want me to do, then that’s what I’ll do”. 

Athelstan knows Ragnar respects his fighting abilities. and Ragnar knows Athelstan can take care of himself. but last time they went on a raid Athelstan was captured by the enemy and crucified and Ragnar basically fell apart and made terrible life choices until he got Athelstan back. 

Ragnar isn’t strong enough to lose Athelstan twice, and Athelstan knows it

so he protects him, by making sure Ragnar will never have to suffer that fate again. Athelstan loves Ragnar more than he loves his own pride (unlike Porrun, who cares more about her reputation than Bjorn’s feelings/fears, and would rather go to battle whilst pregnant than be left out of the fighting). but Athelstan sacrifies his own chances for glory/respect and comfort (he hates being left with Saxons, who hate/fear him, and remind him of his old life and all his mixed feelings about it) and vows to use the time alone usefully, protecting Ragnar’s his interests for him whilst he’s away, and setting up a new home for them in Wessex, for Ragnar to recuperate in when he’s defeated their newest enemies

and then we get Aethelwulf’s wife whose name I can’t remember being all touchy feely with Athelstan, which Athelstan Does Not Want, kissing his crucifixion scars without permission, which is YET ANOTHER contrast to his easy interaction with Ragnar, who gently caressed Athelstan’s hand earlier in the episode, looking at his scars but not doing anything that he knew Athelstan would be uncomfortable with. not letting the scars and what they symbolise fester and hold sway over them, but carefully addressing the issue and not pushing Athelstan for more than he was ready to give - versus the Princess, who just barged right in there, feeling him up and ascribing her own meaning and understanding of the scars onto Athelstan and expecting him to just agree/be cool with it. i mean will you look at this:

he’s so gentle ajfasihnfkjed

i just love love love how the writers are not letting this ship die. yeah they trot out new lady love interests for the both of them every season, but at the same time they undermine and cut through those het love connections with the next stroke of their pens- by constantly and continually underlining how much Ragnar and Athelstan value and understand one another in a way that none of the other relationships on the show can compare to. *sobs endlessly over the perfection of this pairing* 

just. take it away. the feels. I can’t. don’t touch me.


Summary: Every time they met at the convention, he was dressed as Link, and there was a panel to get to. But that’s all that stayed the same. Captain Swan modern AU.

Rating: T

Notes: bashful-killian​ requested CS at a convention. I have never been to a convention despite living in a city that hosts really popular conventions. However, I am a huge nerd and The Legend of Zelda series is 1) one of the elements of pop culture that defines my entire life, 2) the origin of my original OTP, and 3) possibly responsible for my husband and I meeting, so here you all go. Knowledge of Zelda might help you enjoy the story more, but it’s not necessary to understand the story.

Extensive Reference – Information on the relevant Zelda games and images of the characters that our OUAT characters are cosplaying as.


The first time they met, he was Link and she was Zelda.

Killian scanned the crowds as best he could, wondering where Will was. “Are you sure he’s already here?” The panel on video game writing he was hoping to attend was relatively soon, and Belle refused to split up before they’d all connected first.

“Positive,” Belle replied. “I’ll text him again.” She dug through her purse for her phone. “I wish I didn’t have to carry this thing around. It doesn’t match my costume at all.”

“I’m sure Malon would have had a purse if she were at a convention,” he reassured her. “Of course she didn’t need one on the ranch; that would have been silly. Come on, love: let’s wander off to the side a bit. I’d prefer not to stand in anyone’s way. Is he in costume?”

“I think he’s Oliver Queen.”

Killian snorted. “Well, ‘dressed as,’ perhaps.”

Keep reading

Young and Beautiful (GeraltxYen)

Hey guys, Mod King Witcher trash here sharing some OTP feels with you all!

I posted this back on my Main Blog about a year ago and I don’t think I shared it here. But be warned there is Spoilers! (Mostly from the books, very little from TW3)

Keep reading

ameerawrites-deactivated2017052  asked:

I love your Sherlolly fics :) If you're still taking prompts, could you write one with Sherlock and Molly having to parent a teenage?

Oh, my gosh, I’m sorry I took so long on this! Hope you think it is worth the wait! :)

Parental Problems


Molly groaned aloud at the pounding feet racing up the steps of 221b. She peered around the kitchen door to see her daughter storm into the lounge, her black curls in frizzy disarray and her hands clenched at her sides in anger.

‘You called?’ Molly quipped.

Georgina whirled about, her expression as furious as her father’s when he was in a strop. ‘Dad won’t let me go with Claire to the concert at Wembley this weekend! And he promised if I didn’t get in trouble at school for a whole week, I could! And I didn’t, and now he’s taking it back and won’t let me go, because no daughter of his will be seen at some ‘gyrating, juvenile mash of sounds that barely passes as music,’ she rushed on, doing a frankly marvelous impression of Sherlock in one of his moods. ‘So, not only is he backing out of our deal, I spent a whole week keeping my deductions to myself, and do you know how hard that is when my PE teacher is now sleeping with the principal, even though he’s married to the Literature teacher and she’s married to some high-up MP?! My god, if I did that for nothing, I swear I will run away to Nana’s and this time, none of Uncle Mycroft’s minions will be able to drag me back!’

Red-faced and fuming, Georgina finished her story, breathing hard. Used to the speed at which her daughter ranted, Molly placed her hands on her hips and smirked. ‘Want me to ground him?’

‘That would work if I were a sixteen-year-old,’ Sherlock interrupted as he marched into the room and whipped off his scarf. ‘Which you are, young lady. And I will not hesitate to ground you, if you insist on being obstinate.’

I’m being obstinate?’ Georgina screeched. ‘That’s rich, coming from you!’

‘Enough!’ Molly stepped up between them. She loved the similarities between them, but in times like this, she wished Georgina was a bit less of a mini-Sherlock. Molly turned to him and stared him down firmly. ‘Sherlock, if you promised Georgina she could go to the concert conditionally, and she met those conditions, then you need to hold up your end of the bargain.’

Sherlock nearly growled, but nodded under the glare of his wife. ‘Fine,’ he spat. ‘But I shall be going, as well.’

‘What?’ Georgina shouted. ‘No, no way! I will not be the loser who brings her dad to the concert!’

‘Georgina.’ Molly said warningly. Her daughter huffed and crossed her arms, a pout on her Cupid’s bow lips. ‘Give your father and me a moment alone.’

The teenager threw one last glare at her father before stomping out of the room. Once her bedroom door slammed above them, Molly smiled up at her husband and sighed fondly. ‘Oh, Sherlock.’

‘What?’ He snapped, crossing his arms in defiance.

Stepping up to him and sliding her hands up his arms, Molly pulled him down into a gentle, reassuring kiss. ‘She’s got to grow up someday.’

‘I know that.’

Her fingers played with the silver-laced curls at the nape of his neck as she narrowed her eyes knowingly.

He sighed and relaxed into her, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair. It was a defense mechanism, something she discovered early into their marriage. Whenever he felt particularly vulnerable or reassurance, he held onto her to hide his face.

‘But does it have to be today?’

Molly laughed softly at his petulant mumble. ‘You did promise her.’

He sighed. ‘I honestly did not believe she would be able to hold that in for a week. She must have some of your patience in her… somewhere.’

‘Well, I hope you’ve learned a couple lessons. First of all, never make a bet on something you don’t want to follow through on. And secondly,’ her voice dropped and she pulled away with a stern look on her face. ‘Never underestimate our daughter.’

‘She is the best of both of us.’ He grinned proudly. His smile dropped as he looked down at Molly. ‘I suppose I need to apologize to her for being…’

‘Obstinate?’ Molly supplied with a smirk. He frowned at her which only made her smile widen. With a gleam in her eye, she kissed the corner of his mouth. ‘Well, she had to get it from somewhere. And we’ll need to speak with her about her attitude and disrespect.’

Sherlock groaned and dropped his head onto her shoulder. ‘I cannot imagine how my parents raised both myself and Mycroft, who is, as you know, ten times worse than me,’ Molly rolled her eyes, ‘into somewhat functioning members of society without ripping their hair out or going positively insane.’

Laughing, Molly gripped his hair and pulled his head back so she could see the teasing gleam in his eyes. ‘I think you turned out wonderfully.’ She kissed him firmly then pushed him toward the stairs with a smile. ‘Now go. She may very well make good on that threat to run away to your mother’s!’

See if you can spot the difference

Feel free to correct me on anything ‘cause I haven’t watched 2x16, duh, buuuuut since I’m still subscribed to The CW on YouTube I got the Frary hallway scene on my feed and that’s all I’ll comment on and OMG! I think that has to be the most disturbing conversation I’ve ever witnessed between a husband and wife. And of course I know Reign well enough to know what followed.. Francis slept with that chick, and as expected, all Monde shippers out there were clapping and said “Look they are BOTH cheating now, in your face Frary shippers. Oh and Francis sucks btw”.

My response -

#1. Thank you for FINALLY acknowledging that what Mary and Conde are doing IS in fact, cheating. Of course you are finally accepting it ONLY because Francis slept with someone else, and I’m not denying that it is also cheating by theoretical definition. There is a BIG difference in the two though, which I’ll get to later. But hey, after all those posts from Monde shippers that just ‘cause they ship them doesn’t mean they condone infidelity, I will take this realization from your side as a win for humanity! *quick victory dance*

#2. Yes, the Frary ship has sunk.*cries forever* No denying that.Their marriage is a joke. Marriage in general on this show is a joke. Every spouse must cheat on the other. We have learned all this. But, hating on Francis and giving Mary a free pass just as always, ‘cause he slept with that chick? No, just no.

Let’s play a game shall we? It’s called SPOT THE DIFFERENCE!

Scene 1

Francis: Mary, pls don’t cheat on me. You remember, after the stick fight, I told you about Queens being beheaded for infidelity? I’m sorry but THAT IS STILL TRUE AND WILL ALWAYS BE!

Mary: Haven’t you heard? I have what they call “selective amnesia and hearing syndrome”. So, try again. Full disclosure, I may or may not register it.

Francis: …

Mary: And, FYI, you’re being really unfair if you expect me to be a sitting duck like you are ready to be for me, and be faithful to you, while I desire another and wanna wipe out the past by sexing him.

Francis: That’ll get you and your boytoy killed, woman! I’ll say it again, pls don’t cheat! You couldn't make a stupider decision than this.

Mary: CHALLENGE ACCEPTED! And you’re just saying that ‘cause your jealous.

Francis: YES YOU IDIOT, I LOVE YOU! Did you really think I wouldn’t or shouldn't be?? Are you fucking kidding me? My wife, who used to supposedly love me more that anything in this world, and whom I still love, suddenly seems to care only about some other dude and actively wants to have an affair with him! In which universe would I not be jealous? Are you now even gonna blame me for not letting you cheat on me? But I love you and I know this shit that you are pulling is some PTSD bull mixed with you being impulsive as shit. And I also know you’ll heal in time and I’ll wait till then and I think you should too. Just don’t do anything stupid.

Mary: Fuck this shit, I’m gonna have me some Conde.

Scene 2

Chick: *flirts with Francis*

Francis: *massive eye roll + heaves a sigh of relief on seeing Mary*
Oh good there’s my WIFE! MARY, my WIFE, tell this chick that WE both are hubby and wifey plus King and Queen and have serious royal shit to do tonight, TOGETHER. *massive mind wiiiiiiiiiiiiink*

Mary: *feels the wink* Lol do I even know you? Go do whatever you want. There is no WE anymore. am gonna be elsewhere with CondeYOU are gonna be with this missus here. Done deal.

FrancisPlease reconsider this! Gimme SOME indication that you even give a shit about me as a fellow human being, who happens to be your husband! I’ll ask again, reeeeaaal slow, DO YOU WANT ME TO SLEEP WITH HER? Will THAT make you happy and “breathe easier”? Lemme rephrase that, HAVE YOU COMPLETELY GIVEN UP ON US? 

Mary: Bitch, did I stutter? I said GO DO YOUR THING! MOVE ON, MAN. And I’m gonna go do the same. Be happy with this chick or whoever else. See if I care. Mary out.

Francis: FML.

Spot the differences and you get a chocolate.

This scene was so heartbreaking and disturbing ‘cause it had a husband BEGGING his wife to not give up on them and a wife who literally pushed, more like shoved him into another woman’s arms and gives her “blessing” to the cheating or whatever the hell that “your night is free” bull shit was. *I’m numb with pain*

Observation from my Frary heart->

As she walked away though, her face gave me a sliver of hope for my Frary heart. She looked as if she was going to breakdown any second. And it made me realize, this scene was a harsher, more blatant version of 2x13 ending scene. She literally pushed him to “move on” and be “happy” with someone else in the harshest , most cruel way possible -> by seeming to not care about him and them anymore. ‘Cause she knows that’s the only way Francis would ever do something like this (as she and we have learned in the past).
I’m guessing she has convinced herself that this is the only way for both of them to be “happy” or whatever(which makes ZERO sense to me btw but PTSD and Francis caused it all y’all, never forget! *screams forever*)

General Thoughts ->

And wow I’m really loving the attitude some people have towards the show.. Very “feminist” I must say.. Which is perfect for the “feminist” show that is Reign.
So let’s see, when Mary “moves on” with another man, you ask us to stop blaming her ‘cause she deserves to be happy, even if it is in another man’s arms. But when Francis “moves on” (and is still miserable btw) you all start “see he doesn’t even love her, he sucks”. Am I okay with the fact that Francis slept with that chick? HELL NO, I’m not ok.. I’m not ok with any of the shit that’s been happening since 2x09!  My heart is broken because my OTP has been shredded into tiny tiny pieces just like my heart and been scattered all over Con-fucking-de and that chick. My OTP is by definition cheating on each other, and it is excruciating. I’m gonna say it again, their marriage is a joke atm. But am I gonna blame him for doing exactly what his wife wants him to do, pushes him to do AND is going to do herself? N.O. People need to understand that Feminism = Men and Women, EQUAL.
Feminism =/= Women doing whatever the shit they want and we praise them, and make excuses for their horrendous behavior, and if the men do something (a totally different ball park in this case though), we jump down their throats with daggers (which we never even sheathed in the first place. Be ready at Fr-)
So lemme get this straight, Mary can “move on” with Con-FUCKING-de or whoever else she wants to and find “happiness”, she can hardly give a fuck about her husband or anyone else who is not Conde anymore but we need to stand by her? Meanwhile, Francis begs Mary that he doesn’t want to give up on them bazillion times but after finally submitting to it and trying to be “happy”, we need to hate on him, ‘cause wait, he is Francis. Yup, I’m so done with this show and this portion of the fandom.